#all these posts are just me trying to like. figure out myself and my part in this world. because. as i said. i was never treated like the od
Why Podfics are Important
A big part of why I like podfics so much is because to me it is an accessibility feature. There are times when I cannot look at a screen due to light sensitivity or I don't have spoons/brainpower to interact on Tumblr or or I'm too unfocused to read a fic but I still wanna be distracted and think about blorbos and podfics are perfect for that.
The problem is that there aren't very many of them.
When I first discovered them, I filtered for LU fics with no smut or MCD and there were only like 27 podfics. I listened to all of them in about 2 days. I was disappointed there weren't more, but the ones that were there were all excellent. So I asked myself why not try my hand at making them?
It took me about a week to figure out how to record audio, edit, where and how to host it, and how to link to AO3; and now that I know how to do it, I can record and post a fic in a couple of hours. You don't get alot of attention or fanfare for doing it--podfics are nowhere near as popular as ordinary fics, but it's a public service and its just plain fun. Actually its addicting. Every time I finish recording and posting a podfic my brain is like a sled dog pulling on a rope begging "More! Do more podfics!"
In an ideal world, I think every fic should have a podfic version. It would benefit everyone, not just disabled people. Not only are they good for low spoons time, they're also great for ordinary times when you're doing chores or riding the bus or something and you want something to listen to, just like you would listen to any other podcast. Not to mention the fact that by making podfics, you get to learn the valuable modern skill of recording audio and posting it.
I have a motto: "Try anything once," meaning, I'm game to try out learning any new thing and there's no commitment to do it long term or even do it more than that one time. Its just fun to learn and experiment. I've been trying a new thing every year for the past several years and have had fun gaining a bunch of oddball jack-of-all-trades skills like slacklining, longboarding, watercolor, digital art, and podfics.
I'd like to encourage everyone to try making a podfic and seeing how they like it (it does take a couple of podfics to really get your feet under you though). If you like it, or if you're willing and able to, making more podfics would be an invaluable service to provide for the fandom. And if you can't make podfics for whatever reason, why not just listen to a podfic and drop a kudos or comment or something to let the person doing them know that you appreciate it?
If anyone wants to know how to podfic, please feel free to reach out to me and I'll do what I can to help. Also, I'll be putting together a "how to make a podfic" post in the near future so keep an eye out for that.
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As a gentle reminder to readers of this blog, you never know what anyone else is carrying around with them.
I'm not going to lie, yesterday's anon asking rather pointedly for my drabbles to be posted to AO3 caught me in a bit of a rough spot. This was something I was already planning on doing and had already started, but I hadn't quite finished thinking through how I was going to do all of it.
I am an adult, with a day job.
The building I work in is having its HVAC system replaced, so I spent all day in an 83 degree office. I could work from home, but that seems unfair when I have staff that do not have that option.
Today, I need to coach an employee through a very difficult conversation they are going to have with one of their employees about microaggressions.
Our new exhibit opens in a month and we need to train staff.
I'm trying to shop for a house and I don't like anything I'm seeing and I'm spiraling a little bit about being in a no-win situation on this front.
Did I mention the office was 83 degrees all day?
Yesterday I went home with a terrible headache that I'm fairly certain was just my blood pressure talking. I was not in a good place last night.
In an effort to calm myself down after yesterday's anon, I am trying to speed through posting the rest of the drabbles on AO3.
Unfortunately, this has had the inverse effect of raising my blood pressure again because I don't have a polished summary, I don't have tags and I don't have the spoons to figure any out right now.
(I'm also a little agitated that after yesterday's anon, I didn't get an acknowledgement of my response or the work I'd already done on this front.)
Today is also Tuesday, which means I have to end my day with my least favorite meeting, where my team dumps an entire box of problems on my head during my least productive part of the day when I don't want to solve anyone's problems and I'm tired and I just want to go home.
And the office will still be 83 degrees today. And I already have a headache.
If you are going to ask people for things, please remember that you don't know what else they're carrying with them.
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Hello there! I saw a post you made in 2015 about translating text in rtte! Now i get that that is 9 years ago (wow.) But i decided that i could try to shoot my shot anyway. My question is, would you be interested in helping me figure out what the text on the httyd 2 map says? On said post you mentioned not being able to read a lot of it, but i have a very high quality picture of it.
It seems that there is 2 alphabets used? Things like "Berk" and "Volcano still active" seem to be spelled differently from the dragon names.
Trough looking at all the things i could easily read, i figured out a big part of one of the alphabets (which is mostly just a stylised font)
Heyo heyo! [waves] Looks like you've got a fun project going on, and I'm glad to see it!
Goodness golly, The Ancient Days. XD I sorta remember talking about httyd "texts." I think I remember not being able to read everything when we had screencaps and low quality images, but I'm surprised I hadn't talked about the map later when we got the high quality image, since that's been out for eternity, and I remember reading it all for myself (as you said, it's basically just the Roman alphabet in a stylized font with some "Futhark" thrown in - lots of httyd text elsewhere is just cumbersomely transliterating English with the first Futhark alphabet image result on Google, after all). Maybe someone else had posted their results and I sat aside, or I let it slide???? Who knows, hah! I'm sorry I left you hanging back then, but I'm glad you're picking it up!
I'm grateful you thought of me and brought stuff up - it can be fun to return to things, however long it's been or not. XD I'll softly admit... I don't have the interest to look at it. And I hope I don't sound flippant or dismissive... I'm rooting for your project. I have full confidence you can get it all! Please go out, have maximal fun, go big, go bold, enjoy your project!!! Thanks for thinking of me, ferreals. Dragons 5ever.
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I have another skin I've been wanting to get some progress on and then I remembered that I haven’t streamed in one million billion years. if people are interested in a jank little ipad stream (oh god I’ll have to figure out if that’s even possible) maybe I’ll try my hand again at streaming my art. no promises I’m still trying to crawl my way out of Only Making 2 Pieces of Art Per Year so I cannot guarantee when the mood will strike me
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what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?
i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?
a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?
in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.
girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.
there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.
for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.
something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.
is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.
most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."
a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.
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"Are cishet ace/aro men queer" holy fuck you people are just awful huh. Really just showing that we haven't moved past the Basically Straight ideology.
As a cisgender, heteroromantic ace individual myself, allow me to tell you a little bit about myself.
I spent most of my life wondering what was wrong with me. I knew very quickly that many of the people who confessed their love for me would not want me the moment they found out I was averse to sex. I would daydream of various men I'd had crushes on over the years spending time with me in ways I was comfortable, but rarely did I confess my feelings because a simple saying rang in my ears.
"You'll never find a man who will love you without sex."
And the people in my Instagram DMs who would call me baby and then ghost me after they figured out the flag in my profile picture spoke volumes to that. I was only desirable because I was physically attractive. No one wanted to love my personality, not if they couldn't also fuck me. It just wasn't an option.
I have been ostracized. I have been told I don't belong. The straight community does not want me because I do not actively desire sex. The very people you're trying to lump me in with because I'm "basically straight" will not claim me because I am not like them.
I am The Other. I am Less Than. I am Strange. I am Queer.
A person born male, who identifies as a man, and is attracted to women exclusively but only in one way (romantic) or the other (sexual) is queer.
That is a man who either does not desire sex, and is therefore Not Really A Man by society's gender standards and expectations, or does not desire a romantic relationship/wife/girlfriend and is called a manwhore dirtbag who sleeps around or is asked eternally by family and maybe partners who don't get it When He's Going To Get Married.
To be straight requires you to identify with your gender assigned at birth, to feel romantic attraction to the opposite gender exclusively, to feel sexual attraction to the opposite gender exclusively, and to only desire monogamy in that relationship.
A man, born a man, who is not romantically attracted women, but sexually attracted to them, is not straight.
A man, born a man, who is romantically attracted to women, but not sexually attracted to women, is not straight.
There is no debate. Yes, even the Demisexuals and Demiromantics. Yes, even the ones who are capable of feeling these things only under the right conditions.
They're all queer. Every single one. Because they deviate from the idea that Every Man Wants To Fuck A Woman And Be A Loving Husband By Default.
If you disagree with any part of this post get the fuck off my blog. If you try to start shit in the notes or in my asks you're getting blocked.
We're here. We're queer. Fucking deal with it.
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What I tell myself: I need to decompress and calm down after this event so I can go to bed
What I'm doing an hour later, Apparently: [brain explode with thoughts and feelings and being normal] so hey guys about Tsukasa and his EVERYTHING-
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to add to the whole proud faggot thing: i rmbr at age 15 me and my friend (both newly out) would say faggot all the time until a teacher told us off and my friend (v cocky) said actually miss i can reclaim it to which the teacher was like ...its still a swear word ur still not allowed to use it like its not that deep. and that was a sort of revelation like 'oh yeah this word obvs holds meaning and whatever but at the end of the day us reclaiming it isnt revolutionary its just two kids who got their hands on a new curse word to use' & ever since then i try to figure out whoevers using faggot in a useful or meaningful way vs whoever is just excited to use a forbidden word. n i think for a lot of ppl its the latter
So for context, I saw a post where someone had left a comment with Israel apologia, and someone else responded by screenshotting their blog, which has a cutesy Tumblr aesthetic, and added a screenshot of another post about what it called "Smol bean Zionism." I noticed the blogger's bio also said "proud faggot," so I tagged the post:
"Are we ready to admit the 'proud faggot' is not contradictory to the smol beanification but part and parcel to it?"
I see sentiments on Tumblr that "I call myself a faggot to scare the tenderqueers," but I think the cute harmless approach and the edgy approach are two sides of the same coin. Molly Rose on substack writes about how she as a Black woman could never get away with "tenderqueer" behavior. She writes: "As far as I can tell, the hallmark of a true tenderqueer is an unwavering avoidance of responsibility or culpability at all costs, paired with the use of social justice and personal advocacy language to ensure that lack of accountability." The real problem with this type then is not that they're too sensitive, but that their sensitivity is a tool by which they act like they could never be in the wrong. So we see a soft type and an edgy type, but both wear their victimhood on their sleeve to feign superiority and avoid any kind of interpersonal conflict. The former will invoke queerness or neurodivergence to guilt trip you, and the latter will act above it all and treat you like you're stupid for even caring. It's "enough discourse, we should be making out with tongue" when trans women try to talk about transmisogyny, etc.
With all these discussions of the "tenderqueer," It's easy to forget that "queer" was that transgressive word said to connote political radicalism, or rather, speak political radicalism into existence just by uttering that very word. And while I have heard people prop up "fag" and it's equivalents as the solution when the former has been watered down, they are not getting to the root of the problem. If the problem is that some have turned the supposed magical powers of a word into a political dead end, the solution is not to go find other magical words to replace it. I am aware and respectful of the fact that to some, these words really are a political statement, or a symbolic gesture that they're not afraid or have moved beyond past wounds. Any word is what you make it. But to get back to your point, yeah, some people have that same teenager's mentality of getting their hands on a new curse word. And it does not automatically make them meaningfully transgressive or even interesting.
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A WELCOMED INTERRUPTION !
ෆ sypnosis. shiu kong catches toji and you in the living room. toji decides to invite shiu into the fun and he agrees after some deep thinking.
ෆ note. this is a part two to this post ! make sure to read that one first. &&i’m happy u all enjoyed the first part ehhh.. i tried my best w this one too, enjoy. also not entirely proof read so excuse the possible mistakes. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk !
ෆ tags. dom!toji (+shiu) x female reader. three some, blowjob, breast play, objectification, degradation, name calling (whore, slut), cum play, free use, dacryphilia, creampies, male masturbation, voyeurism-ish, multiple orgasms, spanking, hair pulling, overstimulation, doggy style, breeding mention. toji’s mean, shiu a bit less.
“fine, but we have ten minutes.”
shiu kong crosses the room in a couple strides, hands skilfully removing piece after piece of his clothing until he was left in nothing. you couldn’t quite figure out the unreadable expression on shiu’s face once he came close enough to toji and you on the leather couch.
it was impossible to do so through your tears. plus, due to the man on top of your body guiding your head back to look him in the eyes.
“just because he’s joining doesn’t mean y’re allowed to take those eyes off of me.” if toji wasn’t just a fling, you could’ve sworn that those words were said out of jealousy or possessiveness. even if he was the one who suggested the threesome in the first place.
toji hisses and grunts as he pulls all the way out of you before slamming back in twice as hard. your screams of pleasure were like music to his ear. and not only to toji’s ears; shiu was having a hard time holding his usual calm self together every time he hears your sensual moans.
“shit..” shiu curses under his breath, his demeanour slowly falling apart because of the sight in front of him. but, also because he secretly desires to be the one getting those reactions out of your mouth, “she’s quite noisy, eh?”
toji laughs a bit; a mean (almost condescending) laugh, “yeah— maybe we can see which one of us can make her even noiser, whadd’ya think?”
“..or ya can just make her shut up by stuffing that mouth full. your choice.”
your hands were trembling as they try to hold onto any solid object you could spot out of your peripheral vision. your tears withheld you from seeing toji’s agent masturbating; shiu’s rough hand was swiftly gliding up and down on his cock—coating it with his own pre-cum. if it wasn’t for his desire to dump his cum in any of your holes, he’d have released it all over his own hand already.
“i think i’ll put that mouth of hers to use.” shiu had lost the internal battle of keeping himself together as he walked closer to you, standing near your head and gently tapping the tip of his cock on your plump lips, “you know, toji’s told me you’re good at sucking men off and i’ve always wanted to test that claim myself.”
your eyes slightly widen in response, unable to comprehend anything in this situation you got yourself in. neither toji nor shiu cared about that; they just cared about the pleasure you were going to be giving them.
“c’mon,” toji grins and pulls out of you completely, looking down at his throbbing cock which was covered in your fluids before flipping you around on your stomach, “y’re gonna be a good little slut and suck that man off, yeah?”
shiu takes notice of toji’s action and immediately gets into position like the two have done this many times before with other women. the agent takes a seat in front of you, legs spread to give you a nice view of what he was packing between them. shiu’s back was resting against the armrest as his eyes were scanning your face from up close, “what a pretty girl.”
your mouth was watering more than it did previously, drops of saliva running down your chin as you stared at shiu’s cock in front of you. a harsh slap to your ass makes you squeal lightly and your pussy clench onto nothingness.
“i said something, didn’t i?” toji clicks his tongue while he checks out your ass in his position behind you, “get to work.”
your hands found their way to shiu’s thighs and they slid up until they were wrapped around the base of his cock. an almost unnoticeable grunt left shiu’s lips once he felt that jolt of pleasure run through his body from your simple touch. he had waited so long for this.
“fuck— take me in your mouth.” the older man breathlessly orders. you swallow the built-up saliva in the back of your throat and stick your tongue out to lick the tip of shiu’s dick— testing the waters first. as expected, shiu was easy to please since the man was already moaning and breathing heavy when you hadn’t even started yet.
toji looks down at the two and sees how you tease shiu by using your tongue. shiu was trembling a little, biting his bottom lip while one of his hands was tangled in your hair. the agent was trying very hard not to reach his climax already. not when he hasn’t felt your mouth around his cock at least once.
a smirk forms on toji’s lips as he sees the desperation and lust written all over shiu’s face. toji knew that you were good at giving blow jobs; the little teasing you did beforehand—where you’d hold eye contact with him while licking his length in small intervals—added to the entire experience.
“seems like you haven’t had any action in a while, huh?” toji grins while pumping his cock at the sight of you finally starting to suck shiu off. his hand moved in slow strokes, the other placed on your ass, prepared to slap it if you were caught slacking off.
“shut up, toji— shit!” shiu gasps and throws his head back once your mouth engulfs the fat tip of his dick. the warmth and wetness around his throbbing cock was driving him mad, “if i wasn’t too busy cleaning after your mess, i’d have a woman in my bedroom every day of the week.”
you held eye contact with shiu as he makes small talk with toji whom you couldn’t even see. you start bobbing your head in repeated up and down motions, his cock going in and out of your warm mouth, leaving it completely covered with your saliva in no time.
“fuckkk— she’s good.” shiu groans while his hand tugged at your hair, pressing down on your head to hit the back of your throat—the tip of your nose just a centimetre away from his lower abdomen, “way better than expected.”
that gains a small proud chuckle from toji. the assassin was starting to move, lining up his still hard cock against your entrance, “told ya. she sucks cock like a real fuckin’ slut—always knows what to do.”
shiu fully believes those uttered words as he sees you desperately suck him off, hands playing with his balls and sometimes stroking the rest of his length which you couldn’t fit in your mouth. your tears and drool were dripping down between his legs.
a muffled moan vibrates against shiu’s dick the moment you felt toji bully his way into your cunt again. this causes shiu to thrust his hips forward, making you almost choke at the unexpected movement.
“mhh, that’s hot.” shiu breaths out while holding onto your hair with both hands now, ready to repeat his actions since it added to his own pleasure, “do it again, come on—yeahhh— good girl.”
as you choke and slobber all over shiu’s length, toji starts to roughly pump back and forth, hands on your hips to keep your lower body up to meet his— “your cunt is so fuckin’ tight compared to before—fuck— bet it’s ‘cause you’re a slut who enjoys getting both her holes filled at the same time.”
toji smacks your ass a couple of times as his cock penetrates your cunt to its deepest point, “maybe we can fill a third one soon, don’cha think?”
yes, he was implying what you were thinking; anal sex. the nasty thought made you whimper and squirm under toji while continuing to move shiu’s cock in and out of your wet mouth in rapid strokes. shiu reacts to this by bucking his hips up again and again, moaning and grunting loudly, as was toji.
shiu looked down at you through his half closed eyes, enjoying the way you look with your mouth stuffed full of his cock. especially because you were crying as well; it made you look pathetic and helpless yet so attractive.
“fuck— with the way you’re sucking me off, i’m going to cum soon,” shiu says between shallow breaths, seeing your body powerlessly shift back and forth due to toji’s intense thrusts, “mhm— better swallow it all, okay?”
you let out a long, strangled moan. it wasn’t clear whether it was due to toji pounding you or shiu asking you that lewd favour. either way, shiu bucked his hips up one last time, hands clenching around your hair to push your head down all the way to the base of his cock before spurting his hot cum right down your throat—the taste bitter on your tongue.
“swallow,” the older man in front of you reminds you with a hoarse voice, keeping his dick between your lips to make sure you do as told before gradually taking it out with a hiss.
shiu taps the tip on your mouth a little to get the last drops of semen on your lips for you to lick off. toji’s agent started to lazily stroke his dick again, trying to make it hard so he could fuck you as well.
“mhh, want to cum in your pussy. maybe even breed you, huh?” shiu murmurs. his words were solely meant to fuel his desires and get his cock hard again, yet the thought could easily be made a reality.
toji groans as he hears his agent’s dirty talk about breeding you. this causes him to reach out and grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back while he angled his hips in a way to hit your cervix repeatedly.
“fuck, i might even let him do that to ya—let him dump his load into your pussy along with mine.” toji grins, feeling like his cock was swelling even more with each deep thrust, “how ‘bout we try that out?”
shiu takes the chance to watch your tits again as they come into view. his body was relaxing against the armrest of the trembling couch, one hand reaching out to cup a breast and squeeze the hardened nipple.
“ah! yes, y-yes, wan’ both of your cum inside me, please.” you plead and your back arches from all the sensations the two men were granting you in this moment. toji groans loudly at your words, feeling even more turned on than ever and he makes that known.
“yeah? fuck— y’re such a desperate, greedy whore.” toji mocks and continues to pound into your overstimulated cunt. shiu was still squeezing your breasts and flicking your nipples, going from one to the other,
“just hold on, little girl— gonna stuff you full first.” toji adds and thrusts a couple more times before you sense that familiar feeling again; toji’s cum flooding your insides until it can’t help but leak onto your thighs.
with a deep sigh, toji pulls out again to watch the white liquid overflow from your filled hole. shiu, in the meantime, was still admiring your tits and now used both hands to play with them.
you were too fucked out to see the way the two men were silently exchanging glances. toji nodded downwards at his place behind you and shiu understood: the two were changing places.
shiu let your breasts go and stood up, toji following afterwards. the assassin and his agent slowly swapped positions and stroked their cocks at the sight of your spent body, quivering and silently sobbing from overstimulation.
“mind if i borrow her from now on, toji? just from time to time.” shiu asks with a deep hum, enjoying the sight of toji’s cum leaking out of your hole and the way it stained your skin as the sticky fluid left trails down your thighs.
toji snickers as he was getting his cock hard again by looking at your tits and head between his legs,
“nah, i don’t mind. as long as she returns to me at the end of the day.”
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hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.
as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)
but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:
changing expectations
the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!
my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.
when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.
so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?
with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.
with that in mind:
#1: work slower
when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.
instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.
i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!
now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.
doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.
however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:
#2: switch projects
sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.
this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.
the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.
what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.
but it doesn't have to stop there.
#3: switch focus
maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?
let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:
what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today.
okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now.
alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily?
what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?
and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?
what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for?
what if i try sampling something obscure?
what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?
any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.
or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.
but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:
#4: learn something new
when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.
for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴☠️)
it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)
that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:
music theory and composition
music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang
mixing and production
dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix
general inspiration
nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!
(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)
of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:
#5: consume art you love
not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.
but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.
and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.
what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.
as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.
none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.
and finally,
#6: rest, and live your life
let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?
take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).
it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.
i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.
when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)
before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:
be kind to yourself.
being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.
i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.
i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.
thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.
with care,
bee 🐦
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COD Men as Dream Daddy DILFs
Call of Duty single dads x gn!single parent reader
⤐Characters: 141 + König + Horangi + Keegan
⤐Premise: You just moved into a neighborhood with a high population of retired military personnel.
*glances at my 3-4 wips* let's talk about some dilfs, shall we? ...Don't look at me. I had a vision. (No relation to the actual characters from Dream Daddy, just a similar premise) Also a disclaimer: I'm writing these dads mostly in their late 30s to 40s, but don't think about their ages and the ages of their kids too much. This is all vibes. And sorry ahead of time if I gave one of the kids the same name as you 💀 Feel free to imagine the kid has a different name because the names really don't matter
p.s. I wanted to write more characters but I had to reel myself in. I could be persuaded to write a part 2 with Vaqueros, Nikolai, Valeria, Nikto, and other Ghosts tbh
Warning: this shit is LENGTHY. Strap yourself in.
Price: A post about DILFs and you expect me not to start with Captain John Price? Price is the lynchpin of this cul de sac. He's the one inviting everyone over to the barbecue, tries to get the dads to get along, and gives everyone advice. He has the quintessential dad energy. He 100% slaps his knees and says "well!" when he gets up. Price also has major girl dad energy. He's got three adorable little ladies, aged 3 (Clara), 9 (Brianna), and 11 (Alice). Yes, he did name his daughters in ABC order, I can see him doing that. Oh, he dotes on his girls, and they love their dad endlessly. He's the model father: recitals, sports, parent teacher conferences, you name it, he's there.
That's how the two of you meet: he comes up to you at one of the aforementioned events and gives you a firm handshake and apologizes profusely for not coming around to introduce himself earlier. It's not like him not to at least swing by, and he hopes you can forgive him the discourtesy. He hands you his number and says anything you need, just give him a call, or maybe swing by for a beer sometime. He gives you a wink that makes your knees weak, a wink that says he definitely noticed you checking out his muscled arms and broad shoulders. Maybe you will swing by for that beer sometime—and maybe get a little more than just a drink.
Ghost: I could see Simon having a one night stand kid. He certainly never saw himself starting a family after he lost his last one, but he was stressed and probably piss drunk as well. Years and years later, he's back from deployment and finds a social worker with a boy on his doorstep, and the rest is history. I love the idea of Simon with a moody 16 year old, but I actually see Simon and his son having the same dynamic as Mike and Abby Schmidt from the FNAF movie. Since Simon wasn't around for Caden's early childhood, they have a relationship that's undeniably father and son, but leaning towards casual and sibling-like. Simon's figuring his shit out, dealing with his PTSD and the various lasting health issues his time in special forces has left him with, and Caden's a quiet, sensitive 10 year old boy who thinks the world of his dad.
You meet Simon at the local bar. His Ghost days are long behind him, but the balaclava's a hard habit to kick. Besides, he doesn't need people staring at his scars. He's usually there with the 141, but today he's alone, and looks like he could use some company. You sit up at the bar close to him and order a drink, but you don't disturb him, and he visibly relaxes when he realizes you're not going to try to make small talk. It becomes a routine, the two of you: always sharing a quiet drink together at the bar, and then both of you wordlessly go home to your kids. You have a sort of silent conversation every time: Good to see you again. Yeah, you too. Neither of you actually speak a word to the other until Price introduces you to him at a gathering, and you finally hear his voice. "We've met before," he says, with a glint in his eye that suggests perhaps he'd like to be more than just a silent drinking buddy. That's fine with you: you're dying to see what's under the mask and dark hoodie.
Soap: JOCK ALERT. Johnny's basically Craig from Dream Daddy: total dreamboat who goes on runs around the neighborhood and gets all the appreciative looks from the local moms. He thrives on the attention in a way that definitely makes the 141 roll their eyes. He's got an older little girl named Elodie, and a lil baby boy Thomas that he takes everywhere with him. Obviously he's just being a responsible parent taking care of an infant, but secretly, Thomas is a great conversation starter with aforementioned local moms.
Conversely however, it's Johnny who makes the move on you first. Maybe in the grocery store, maybe at one of Price's get-togethers. Sidles up to you and introduces himself with a look in his eye that means trouble. Only the good kind of trouble, of course. If you reciprocate and he finds out you're single, you're not getting rid of him. But why would you want to, anyway? He's endlessly charming, attentive, and good with his hands. When he's fixing a leaky tap for you, of course—what did you think I meant?
Gaz: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is a fucking heartthrob. I'm saying it right here, right now. He's a walks in with flowers, makes you dinner kind of partner. Also househusband vibes, because, surprise: Kyle is still married. This isn't a Joseph (Dream Daddy) situation, though: he and his wife, Emily, have known each other for a long time, a very high school sweethearts situation. Over the years, though, they drifted apart with Kyle in the military, and Emily eventually realized she's not actually into men. They're still married for coparenting purposes: they've got an older teenage girl named Violet, and a younger boy named Elliott. (Yes, I'm naming him after Elliot Knight, sue me.)
Honestly, I think it would be HILARIOUS if you met Kyle on a dating app and realized he's your next-door neighbor. But however you guys meet, Kyle is an old-school courter kind of guy. He is taking you on dinner dates, listening to you rant about your day, and is on your doorstep in a heartbeat when you call him in a panic because your kid's running a 105 fever (41 in Celsius) and you need a ride to the emergency room. (Not that the other dads wouldn't do the same, but I'm trying to convey "most reliable man in the world" vibes here.)
König: Y'all...you don't know how much fucken time I've spent thinking about this man as a dad. He's in the same boat as Ghost where he never saw himself living long enough to start a family, but here he is with the most precious little girl you've ever laid eyes on. Ava's got her father's curly hair and big green eyes, and she has her dad wrapped around her pinky finger. For König, Ava is living proof that he's capable of being more than just a tool for violence.
You meet König through Ava, of course. Your kids are the closest of friends, and the two of them are constantly going over to each other's houses. You're obviously delighted that your kid is making new friends and fitting in so well, but you'd be lying if your heart didn't skip a beat whenever you open your door to see Ava's six foot ten dad standing there with soft eyes and a sheepish smile. I have to stop here, because I've already written an extra paragraph for this man that I've cut out and pasted for safekeeping in my notes app, and if encouraged I will write more. (Please encourage me.)
Horangi: I know we already had a sort of Robert (Dream Daddy) figure with Ghost, but I think Horangi is a dad whose kid is an adult, much like Robert and Val. I also think that out of all the dads, Horangi is likely the one who's still doing some level of military work. Either that, or he has a very demanding job that takes up a lot of his time. He's ashamed of the way he let his gambling affect his family in the past, and is making up for it by being responsible and keeping his finances in order.
You don't meet him until you've lived in the neighborhood for quite a while, but he pops up at a gathering, talking quietly with König in a corner. You'd thought you had met every neighbor in the cul de sac, so you're intrigued by the newcomer. Someone, probably Price, tells you what Hong-jin's deal is, and ever since that you just can't keep your eyes off of him. You can't quite work up the nerve to talk to him, so you occupy yourself talking with the other parents. Some time later, you're at the food table grazing on the snacks when you look up and make eye contact with him. There's something intense in his gaze that makes you freeze, like a deer in headlights. He's definitely checking you out, you think. Your chest erupts into nervous butterflies when he starts walking towards you.
Keegan: Keegan is an adoptive father! I love his dynamic with the Walker boys, so I can see him being the kind of guy who adopts an older teenager so they have a home and a family instead of aging out of the system. Jason and Cecelia are high school age siblings who would have been separated otherwise, and consider Keegan their dad in every way that's important.
I think you and Keegan are definitely rivals in some way. Maybe it's a PTO thing, maybe he gets a little too boisterous at your kids' sports game. Whatever it is, you can't stand the man, but your annoyance whenever he's around only seems to amuse him. You have no problem saying to his face exactly what you think about him, but unfortunately, Keegan can see right through you. And hey, Cecelia could use some experience as a babysitter, so you won't have to worry about spending the night over at his place, will you?
As always, I wanna hear peoples' thoughts and feedback! If you want to hear more about these dads, drop me an ask <3
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"But you're so successful without it."
Content warning: This post contains mentions of suicidal ideation.
I got a message earlier tonight that I'm not going to post, but I did ask the person involved if I could talk about what we subsequently ended up talking about in DMs because I feel it's important.
Basically, it was along the lines of "My kid got diagnosed with ADHD and really wants to try meds. I know from reading your blog that correct treatment for ADHD can be really beneficial, but I just don't think she's severe enough to need them."
The message then went on to ask me, as someone who is unmedicated with ADHD, for some tricks and tips on how to be successful without medication because clearly, look how well I'm doing without them. I mean, look at my blog, look at my book(s)! Surely if I can do all that without ADHD meds, other people can too. Surely there's a trick. A skill. Something you can learn if you just try hard enough...
This is not the first time I have received a message like this. In fact, I probably get about 2-5 messages like this a week.
Usually from other people who also have ADHD/suspect ADHD but don't want medication because they don't think they need it/don't want to need it, and yet can't figure out why they're struggling so much, and ask me how do I do the thing(s) and cope so well and get so much done, etc., etc.
So I'm going to tell you what I told this person tonight in case it helps someone. Yes, I have ADHD. No, I am not medicated due to severe health complications, and yes, I get a lot done. From the outside, I am sure it looks incredibly productive and successful. But I'm going to let you in on what that success feels like.
It feels like dying.
It feels like my brain is on fire; every nerve in my body scraped raw; every part of me wired and exposed to the noise of the world. There is no quiet; there is no calm. And even when my brain does fall silent, it's another kind of death. The inside of my head is sludge, flowing uphill like treacle, weighing me down, pulling me under in the riptide of my inability to focus. I can see what needs to be done, I can see it so clearly, yet sometimes it's like I don't control my own body. Not enough dopamine. Not enough brain chemicals for the message I'm screaming in my head to make my limbs do the simplest of tasks. Like, feed myself. Take a shower. Answer that email. Text my friends back. Go to bed when I'm tired. Write a best-selling novel...
A novel that almost killed me and not because of my other ailments, but because of my unmedicated ADHD.
I didn't realize it at the time, but I was already operating at critical mass when I went into final rewrites/edits. Every coping mechanism I had fell apart. Like training wheels falling off a tricycle, leaving me to wobble unsteadily until the main wheels fell off, swiftly followed by the handlebars until all that was left was me peddling frantically trying to keep my balance and not getting anywhere. I didn't realize it then, but I was heading towards a complete mental collapse. And even when I dragged myself across the finish line with the above and beyond help provided by my friends and editors, I was so burned out I couldn't enjoy my success. Worse, my success made me suicidal.
It took me until very recently, almost two years later, to be able to read Phangs without feeling suicidal. My brain associated it with the trauma of experiencing complete ADHD burnout but having to complete a monumental task anyway.
I had to go into intensive therapy to recover. I am still in intensive therapy for it.
It took me even longer after that to be able to sit down and write without harming myself. I still struggle with it, and I tell you this in all honest sincerity in the hope it makes you realize what it costs me to be "successful" and unmedicated.
And this wasn't the first time I've had to deal with this, either.
I struggled all through high school, all through college, all through every career job I ever had, knowing there was something wrong, but not quite being able to put my finger on it because hey, I still got stuff done, so it couldn't be that bad, right? Surely everyone went through life feeling this way? Right?
...right?
It wasn't until I got my ADHD diagnosis as an adult that I realized what was happening. Why I struggled so much. Why life was so hard. In many ways, it was like the sun coming up. An internal dawning of realization and acceptance, but also rage.
So much rage.
Rage at how much I'd had to struggle because no one noticed because I was quiet and undisruptive. Rage at a system that forced me to learn in ways that were not intuitive to my brain. To always being told, "doesn't apply herself" while it felt like I was clawing my brain apart trying to do what people wanted from me. To a work-life balance, that rewards all the things that make ADHD actively worse. Rage. So much rage it hurts. And to top it all off, I can't be medicated for it. I finally know what's different, I finally know why my world feels raw and turned inside out, and I can't take any of the medications that might help me.
Do you know how angry I wake up every day that there is a possible solution just within my grasp, but my health conditions prevent me from trying them? Do you know how much it hurts? How much I grieve for the person I could be if I was able to have help beyond therapy and coaching? How much happier I could be...
Not productive. Not successful. Happy.
So ask yourself, what do you want more? A child who has to go through all of this and resents you for prolonging their suffering? Who winds up hating themselves by internalizing the false concept that if they just try hard enough, they can do whatever they set their mind to.
Or do you want to help them?
Or if this is you, why are you afraid to help yourself?
Please, don't use me as an example to harm yourself or others. Yes, I am successful without medication. But the toll is high. Too high.
Rid yourself of the idea that you need to suffer more to be allowed help. You don't. They don't. No one does.
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Right Where You Left Me
Pt 4: The Sweetest Thing to Ever Scare You (Finale)
Ellie Williams x reader
I remember when I first saw you. I remember looking into your warm almond eyes and feeling butterflies in my stomach. But soon, when I looked into your eyes, I no longer felt the same warmth that I once knew. It felt as though you had killed all of the butterflies inside my stomach but yet, I still loved you.
Premise: You and Ellie are childhood best friends until you drift apart. Funny thing about soulmates is they tend to find their way back to each other. You and Ellie try to end the tireless war between you.
Warnings: Angst / drinking / violence / not really religious mentions in this one
Part one here!
Part two here!
Part three over here!
Guys I thought I posted this two days ago but I actually just saved it to drafts. Sorry for being an idiot lmao
I think that I have unlearned how to love.
That’s not even a word but there is no other way to tell you that I have turned myself cold.
Without partying to distract me and religion to fill in gaps of emptiness, I isolate myself and begin to write once again. I'm almost certain that my body has been telling me to write, that I need to pour myself into art as opposed to a girl I was friends with a million years ago.
I figure that I need to create rather than destroy but it might take me a while to do so.
The morning after I abandoned my faith on the church floor, I had woken up and expected Ellie to be gone, however, she was wide awake and playing subway surfers on her phone. Her hair is messy and her eyes are half-lidded.
She turns to look at me when she feels the shuffling of the bedsheets; despite her doing nothing more than smile at me it is like an understanding passed between us, war is over.
Almost.
It's like I've forgotten how to be soft, I can't manage to get the words out that I need to, and the thought of it alone makes me cringe. "Breakfast?" I ask, unsure of what else to say.
Ellie passes on it and I awkwardly excuse myself, saying that I got called in to take a brunch shift at work. Of course, this is not true. What I do is get into my car and drive and drive until I get mad at myself for burning gas.
The war between Ellie and I had ended but it didn't register in my head, I almost fell in love with it. Without the constant arguing and passive aggressiveness, there was nothing to put a wall between us and I wasn't ready to be vulnerable again.
So I begin to feed Ellie the ugliest parts of me; I show her everything I'm sure she will hate but she doesn't, she's patient and shows me the kindness I have been looking everywhere for. Still, I am cold to her, I don't know what else to do.
I try to push her away all over again but this time, she doesn't let me. Ellie comes into my room when I'm studying to sit on my bed so that she can be in proximity to me. Sometimes she'll ask me if I want to go for a walk or a late-night gas station run, all of the things we used to do.
When I'm angry at her, she lets it happen, she won't escalate the fight all she does is apologize and does what she can to fix it. Everything feels like it's in order again, Joel even starts to send me little text messages to check in on me and sends me Facebook memes that make him think of me.
As of now, we are setting up for Dina's twenty-first birthday. The living room, typically a space for casual gatherings and movie nights, had undergone a transformation. Vibrant streamers adorned the walls, and an array of balloons in assorted hues scattered themselves along the floor "Are balloons too childish?" Abby asks as she walks out of her bedroom.
"They better not be after I just spent half an hour doing all of these," Cat answers, giving her a scornful glare.
"They look great, Cat," I smile and give her a thumbs-up from where I am in the kitchen dumping bags of chips into bowls. "Should I make a veggie platter?"
Cat furrows her eyebrows "If you can finish it by yourself, sure."
"Cat, we aren't children, adults eat vegetables," Abby takes a seat on the couch behind Cat, investigating the hard work she's put into making the living room look nice for just one night "Isn't it weird that Dina is organizing her own surprise party?"
I shrug, placing a wooden cutting board down on the kitchen counter "I don't blame her, I don't think we've always been one hundred percent reliable, me specifically."
"But it's not a surprise if she knows about it."
"So?" Cat asks.
"So why are we calling it a surprise party if it isn't a surprise?"
"Why not?"
"Well, why can't we just call it a party?"
"I don't think it matters," I cut in, I begin to peel carrots and slice them up into quarters. Ellie comes out of her bedroom, she took a nap after completing her physics presentation, her hair in a messy bun, and she's in her typical pyjama uniform of sweats and a hoodie. "Hey, Ellie," I smile at her.
She rubs some sleep away from her green eyes "Hey," Ellie walks over to the kitchen island where I slice and chop vegetables and sits right in front of me. Even half asleep she looks like a statue of marble carved by a skilled hand.
Abby raises an eyebrow, asking 'When did you guys become friends?' without saying it and then it hits me like the plane in Lost. Ellie still hasn't told anyone about our history, our sixteen years of friendship is invisible to the eyes of those who think they know us well.
I'm broken from my thoughts when Abby speaks up "When are you picking up the cake?"
My heart drops "I'm not?"
Cat and Abby cast one another side glances while Ellie snatches a cucumber off my cutting board "Dina was handing out duties and you said you would take care of the cake."
I freeze, unsure of what to say "Nuh-uh." I shake my head like a child denying blame for breaking her mother's favourite dish.
"Yuh-huh," Cat shoots back. "How could you forget that?"
My mind fumbles for an excuse and somehow I land on "I forgot because I went temporarily insane from Lyme disease," What am I saying? "I got Lyme disease because I go camping in secret," I don't camp "And I never told you guys that I go camping because I'm deeply ashamed of it."
Now everyone looks perpetually confused, Ellie included "What are you talking about?" Abby asks, her eyebrows furrowed.
"Okay-well," I place my knife flat on the counter by the wooden cutting board, ignoring the odd spiel I just went on "I'm going to drive to-
"You dropped your car off for a suspension repair yesterday," Abby reminds me.
"Ellie is going to drive me to get a cake," I correct myself "I will be back to finish making my veggie plate." I quickly rinse my hands before grabbing Ellie's keys from the little jewelry dish on the island and yank the sleeve of her hoodie to pull her along.
Ellie doesn't say anything, she slips into some Crocs and we walk outside to her car. "Where are we headed?"
"Uh, hang on," In Ellie's passenger seat, I go on Google Maps to look up the closest bakeries that are still open at this hour, there are two, one a couple of streets away and the other one is across town and closing in twenty minutes. "Infectious Confections," I wrinkle my nose "That's a weird fucking name."
While Ellie tries to make conversation in the car I only speak when giving her directions to the bakery. She knows something is up and I can tell by the way she keeps glancing at me. I just can't manage to get it out of my head that she's still keeping me a secret.
She pulls up to the bakery and I get out before she even turns her car off, she pulls the keys out of the ignition and trails behind me through the doors.
The bakery itself was rustic and clean, there were two display cases and tills one of the displays held danishes, croissants, cookies, scones and whatever those little swirly flakey things are called. The other display had a big chalk menu above it that read 'Cakery' Though what was in the display case was very sparse.
"Hi," I walk up to the till, putting on the friendly smile and customer service voice that I usually only use at work. "This is pretty short notice but I was wondering if you had any cakes left or if I could get one made for today?"
The guy behind the counter is a scrawny teenager who looks like he has had a long enough day of dealing with annoying customers "We close in half an hour, there's not enough time to bake and decorate a cake." He explains it like he's said this to a million people, he's bored of the same phrases that his manager has scripted out for him.
"Any shot that someone didn't pick up their cake?" I ask, fingers crossed in the hope that he says yes.
"Let me talk to my manager," His voice drags on, and he turns around and disappears through a commercial kitchen door. I wait patiently, hands balled together in front of me as I rock back and forth on my heels. A minute or two later he comes back holding a bright blue cake with pink detailing of bows and mustaches, there's text on it that reads 'It's a...' gender reveal cake. "This is all we have left, they cancelled last minute.
I look back at Ellie to get her opinion, her eyebrows are furrowed slightly "Maybe we good just get some of those cupcakes and smush them together and smear the icing so it looks like a cake."
I wave her off "I'll buy it," I say this only because it is 5:41 and with each passing minute I am growing desperate, also I don't want Jesse to be disappointed that I fumbled the cake and ruined his girlfriend's birthday.
Angsty teenager puts the bright blue monstrosity into a cake box and charges me an absurd total for it, I bitterly tap my card on the machine.
As I walk back out to Ellie's car I take a brief moment to look at the sky, it's the same hue as cotton candy and looks as if it had been projected from a watercolour painting, even after I get back into the car and Ellie begins to blast her old dad rock songs, I can't tear my eyes away from it.
After five minutes of silence from my end, Ellie finally asks the question that's been burning into the forefront of her brain "Why are you being weird?"
"Why haven't you told anyone that we met before we moved in together?"
Her dark eyebrows furrow "You haven't told anyone either-
"Yes, I have."
"Who?"
"Yara, Stacy, Kayla, Mitch, Nigel, Carmen, literally everyone from my work," I admit "I just haven't told people who know you personally so it can't make its way back to you because you clearly don't want people to know."
She falls silent, searching her mind for the right words. She clutches the steering wheel tight and looks dead ahead at the car's bumper-to-bumper ahead of us. "I just know how to slip it into conversation."
"I don't think it's that hard, you can just say that we were friends, you don't need to give an intricate play-by-play of everything that happened."
"Why is it important that people know if we're cool again?"
I turn my head to slowly look at her "You are the one who always said 'If we don't have honesty, we have nothing at all'," I point out.
Silence strings between us again, I almost want to throw up.
'We're cool again' Nope, not anymore, we are so very far from cool. Instead of Ellie casting me little glances as she had on the ride there, she ignores my presence almost completely while I glare daggers at her. Was she embarrassed by me? When we went to lunch together why did she lie to Dina about where she was? When she slept in my bed why did Cat ask me if I knew why Ellie came home at eight AM with nothing, not even a key? Did she crawl through my bedroom window to walk around to the front door and pretend she was just getting home?
AND WHY DIDN'T I CALL HER OUT?
She was keeping me a secret and that realization hurt worse than any injury I had ever suffered. She hasn't even told her dead who practically raised me that we lived together.
God, we weren't even anything and she was keeping me under wraps like I was some disgraceful secret that she would get shamed for holding. The very second she approached our house, I got out of her car, she hadn't even stopped it completely but cake in hand, I hopped out of her car door and didn't look back.
I think I've had my fair share of partying.
After that month-long bender I had where I went to clubs every night and replaced food with vodka, I never wanted to even look at another solo cup full of liquor. Instead of drinking, smoking, or doing karaoke, I hide from Ellie.
I hide from her in conversations and sometimes sneak into my bedroom just to get a bit of breathing room from all of the strangers in my house. Wherever Ellie was, I was not. If she was outside, I was inside, if she was in the living room, I was in the kitchen enjoying my veggie platter.
Have you ever been the only sober person around in a group of people? If the answer is no, have you ever babysat a houseful of toddlers? Because it's just about the same thing.
When I'm not hiding from the girl who wriggled her way back into my good graces just to trip herself off the podium, I'm cleaning up, protecting our furniture, holding back hair as girls I've never met sob into the toilet, and stopping the drunk from doing stupid things.
"Hey, buddy," I take my can of hairspray that this frat-adjacent man is holding behind an ignited lighter "I don't think you would look good as a burn victim," His friends moan in disappointment as I do so, they were very excited to see a makeshift flamethrower; I wasn't in the mood to have my house burn down, or have a guy with peach fuzz waste my thirty dollar hair spray.
Thirty dollars?
Note to self for later: Make smarter spending choices (And smarter relationship choices!).
I felt a tap on my shoulder only to turn around and see Dina, she wasn't drunk, just tipsy "Smile!" She holds up a camera to her eye and clicks the shudder button before I even have a chance to react the flash goes off. A large Polaroid begins to print out, Dina snatches it and shakes it until you can see my silhouette, my eyes are wide, my hair flying behind me from the quick turn of my head and I'm holding a can of hairspray angled to look like I'm going to spray the camera with it "Cute!" She smiles, tucking it into her pocket for later "Wait, I want a group picture of the roommates."
Dina takes my hand and pulls me to one of the couches where Ellie and Abby sit with some guy, she shoes him to get up and drags Cat over to replace him, she stands me in between Ellie and Abby and lightly pushes me down to sit wedged between the two.
"Jesse, please do not do me dirty with this picture," She hands the pink Polaroid camera to her boyfriend and quickly ushers herself to the far left of the couch where she bends over to kiss Cat on the cheek for the picture. Ellie and I are stiff and awkward when the flash goes off.
After the picture is taken, Ellue turns to face me just the slightest "Hey, I think we should talk-
"I think it's time for cake!" I push myself off the couch and usher myself to the kitchen.
I pull the cake out of the fridge, looking at what I had done to salvage it; Below the part that said 'It's a...' I wrote '21 year old!' in chocolate pre-made Betty Crocker icing that I had in the fridge for months, it didn't look the best, but it could've been worse.
Dina, of course, cackles when she sees it. To her, it is the funniest thing she's seen all night. I stick the candles in and light it with the light I confiscated from peach fuzz frat boy and push the cake towards Dina after tucking the light back into my pocket, she is illuminated in the glow of iPhone flash all filming her.
"Make a wish!"
Age Sixteen- Grade 11
I think back to how embarrassing it felt to be thoughtful.
How fragile I felt when I would share my feelings and how frail I seem when I do it now. Ellie was always tougher than I was, in rugby, in fights, just in general. That's why I figured she would be taking it better than me when I cut contact, once again I have been proven wrong.
"Conner, can we please just leave?" I pleaded with my then-boyfriend. The night had started fine but after a couple of drinks Ellie and I were becoming increasingly hostile to one another, it wasn't my intention to speak to her but the universe forced my hand when we were shoved into a circle of our friends and made to converse around the bonfire at the beach.
The salty breeze carried the sounds of laughter and the gentle crashing of waves, the scent of roasted marshmallows wafted through the air.
"What, you need your boyfriend's permission or something?" Ellie held a can of berry blast Smirnoff, staring into my soul from the other side of the fire, the sparks glitter through the night like fireflies. Her words don't feel too bad but they don't feel too good either.
I cast her a glare before I looked back to my boyfriend "Please?"
He is getting perpetually annoyed with me he shrugs away from my grasp, "Fuck off, we just got here," He mutters, Conner must think I couldn't hear it. He had already downed three Bud lights and a couple of shots of cheap vodka, now he is nursing another beer in hand.
"Excuse me?" I say, narrowing my eyes. Everyone around the fire pauses their conversation to tune into mine. "Come on," I stand up and try to pull him along so we can have a conversation away from the prying eyes of our friends.
I can't pull the mass of the 6'2 quarterback along with me but he obliges and follows me where I yank him. As I drag him along the rest of the group giggle and makes jokes along the lines of 'Trouble in paradise' but Ellie is the only one who doesn't jump back into mindless conversation, her unnerving eyes are still on me while I chew my boyfriend out by the shoreline.
"Why do I have to leave just because you're feeling a little bummed out?"
I'm almost floored at out someone can lack so much empathy "Because you're my boyfriend?" I can feel myself tensing up.
"Why does that mean you can't get up and leave on your own?" He defends "You begged me to come here and now I just wanna down a couple of beers and hang out with my friends."
"You've already drank like twenty!" I retort.
"It's a fucking party!" Conner says, raising his voice "It's a party and it's summer and you're seriously trying to tell me not to have fun?"
"Fuck!" I shout in frustration "Why don't you ever call me? Why can't you ever let me in?" The argument is quickly escalating "Why didn't you tell me that you kissed Tamar and why haven't you told me that you love me?"
"Because I don't."
My words fail me. I knew he didn't, I knew that he hardly even liked me. My dad had thought so highly of him, she said he was the type of guy to rescue a baby from a burning building but as I look at him now, I figure that he eats babies.
I almost open my mouth to say something different, almost, but I don't. The rest of my life might have turned out differently if I didn't, I might've been able to salvage the rotting corpse of my relationship with Ellie but I didn't. "Fine," I say, voice calm and quiet "Let's stay."
Before that night I had never really gotten drunk but the second I got back to the bonfire, I was digging through the cooler and shotgunning canned Smirnoff. "Woah," Riley laughs "Someone's finally being a bad influence."
I got myself so shit-faced that when everyone else got up to dance to the music blaring through the Bluetooth speaker, I sat by myself at the shoreline, looking bitterly out towards to ocean while the tides crash at my feet and get sucked back into the ocean. For a moment I think about jumping in and letting my lax body get washed away and sink beneath the surface until I wash up as a water-bloated corpse that some nine-year-old will find when they're beach combing.
My mouth tastes like peroxide and blood, my lungs burn with a red-hot pain. The wind is becoming increasingly harsh and I ignore the hair that is tangled into my golden hoop earrings.
"Wow, you look awful," I don't need to turn around to know who it is.
"Can you just fuck off?" I say "I don't give a shit about you, just leave me alone."
She always had to antagonize me, Ellie went out of her way to stray from the group and bother me. It had something to do with the alcohol in her system. Despite her alleged hatred for me, she takes a seat next to me regardless.
"Fuck, you're so sensitive," She scoffs "I don't know why you're dating him, I'm not even sure why you'd want to fuck him unless you're too lazy to jerk off-
My hands think before my head and I deck Ellie right in the side of her face, getting a solid hit to her cheekbone. My hand flies over my mouth "I'm sorry, I-
Ellie doesn't waste any time in lunging back at me, she pushes me down by my shoulders until my back is in the shallow of the water that moments ago just splashed at my feet and takes a swing. The impact of her punch almost knocks me sober.
I take a sharp inhale, grabbing her elbows and pulling her down to where she was the one on her back and I was the one straddling her. I land one last blow to her nose, I hear a crunch and the panic immediately sends me scrambling to my feet. My eyes go wide at the blood dripping down, her face I turn to run but Ellie is faster, she grabs me by my hair and yanks me down further into the water with her.
"Fucking cunt!" I cry, though my scream is drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud tides crashing on the shore "Get the fuck off me!"
Ellie is better at fighting than I am, I had never been on this side of her before, usually, I had been the one to drag her away from fights but now I am the one who is going to stumble home numb from the devastating pain.
Frankly, I'm fucking scared.
She continues to drag me by my hair until I'm knee-deep in the water with her, she almost throws her entire weight into me, dunking me beneath the surface where her bony hands snake around my neck. My eyes have gone blurry with the salt water, they sting and burn. I can't see anything, all I can do is uselessly thrash beneath her. My hands push against her face, trying to pry her off my body.
Eventually, I manage to claw her face with my fingernails, I dig deep enough that it breaks skin and she recoils just enough for me to knee her in the stomach and let me get out from under her. Just as I try to slip away she reaches for my hair again, but instead of tugging on my hair, she rips out my gold hoop earring. I screech out in agony, hand reaching for where the metal sliced through the lobe of my ear, I shudder in pain; my cries are now jagged and harsh.
This is the exact moment Ellie begins to regret what she's done. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." Her tone softens and she tries to approach me but I back away from her like a frightened dog.
"Get away from me!" Despite the pain surging in my body, I find the strength in me to hit her again, she staggers back tripping into the water. I hit her so hard that I feel a crack in my knuckle and I yelp out in the immediate shock of pain.
I wasn't sure when the others had noticed this was happening probably because my vision had gone blurry from salt water and adrenaline but before Ellie could hit me again, she was being restrained by Riley and Kennedy while some guy who I had probably had two conversations with dragged my back to shore.
I keel over on my hands and knees and begin to start retching onto the sand. Laila rubs a gentle hand on my back, my hair sticking wet on my forehead. A seagull, disturbed by the commotion, took flight, its wings cutting through the charged air.
Next to the pile of vomit I just heaved, blood drips down from my ear, pooling and then soaking into the sand. My neck swells from what is still the raw sensation of Ellie closing her hands around it.
I look up at Ellie, there is blood that has dripped its way into her mouth, clinging to her white teeth. She has what almost looks like a cat scratch running down her cheek, blood begins to prick and spill from the lacerations.
She stares back at me and we don't say a word but we understand each other clearly, I never want to see you again.
"Let's go," Ellie grabs my arm as Dina begins to slice the cake "We're gonna fix this right now."
"Ellie, there are so many people here," I say in a hushed tone so people can't hear me.
"I don't mean here," She looks at me, face expressionless "Just get in my car."
"Excuse me?" I say, tone accusing "Did you just order me to get in your car?"
"Fuck," She sighs, dropping my wrist to rub her hands down her face "Please can you get in my car so we can work this through."
"There's nothing to work through," I retort "You're embarrassed by me or you still secretly hate me and that's fine, I meant what I said on winter break about the lease, the second it's up, I'm getting the fuck out of here."
"What? No, don't- just," She takes a breath, reevaluating what to say "I have a point to make but I can't make it unless you get in my car."
We stare at each other for a moment, I narrow my eyes and she is still unmoving. Every scenario runs through my head of what could be waiting for me in that car.
"Fine."
I sit silently in her passenger seat, my knees are pulled into my chest and I rest my chin on them. Ellie doesn't say anything either as she drives. I watch each traffic light pass me, every street name to try and make sense of where we are going.
I almost feel like I'm going to suffocate beneath the silence of everything going left unsaid.
When I spot the boardwalk up ahead, I know exactly where she's taking me "Ellie, why are we at the beach?" I give her a side glance "Do I need to take out my earrings?"
Heat rises to her cheeks when I say this, "Not yet," She jokes, getting out of her car and grabbing a tote bag from the back seat, and I follow in tow.
We walk past the boardwalk and onto the sandy beach, I'm already not feeling whatever she's doing; there is sand filling up my Converse and a slight wind chill, I'm really wishing I had a hoodie right now. "Can you tell me what we're doing yet?" I'm hugging myself in an attempt to stay warm "If we're still walking on the beach why couldn't we have just walked on the boardwalk instead? It literally has walk in the name." I'm already going off on one of my tangents.
She still walking ahead of me but she briefly turns around to face me "Can you just stop asking questions for a minute?"
"Okay, whatever," I mutter, trailing behind her still. I can hardly see in the night, the only light to guide us is the moon and the warm ceiling lamps from restaurants along the boardwalk. I can vaguely see Ellie's silhouette, she's outlined by the gentle glow radiating off the moon, I try my best not to stumble over things poking out of the sand that have been lost to sight by darkness.
"Okay," Ellie stops, "Here we are."
"Where are we?" I ask "I can't see shit, I don't know where here is."
Ellie digs around in her pocket for her phone and turns on a flashlight and it reveals a small iron firepit that was cemented into a slab of concrete in the sand. She hands me her phone so I can keep the flash on her and she can see what she's doing.
She pulls out some pages ripped out from her notebook "Can you hand me your lighter?"
My eyebrows furrowed, and I felt around in my pocket wondering if I even had one. I did, it had slipped my mind that I still had the bic lighter that I confiscated from Peach Fuzz. I hand the lighter to her and watch as she tucks the pages beneath logs that were in the firepit before we arrive, they are somewhat charred but still viable.
She flicks the lighter to ignite it and the paper catches immediately. The initial flicker grew into a tentative blaze, licking at the edges of the kindling. The crackling sound echoed through the night.
Once she is sure the fire can survive without her feeding it, she steps away. "Alright, let's have it out."
"Like sex?" I scrunch up my nose.
"Oh my god, no, like let's talk this through." She pinches her nose bridge, taking a breath in before exhaling and putting her hand back down "We're gonna recreate the night of the bonfire how it should've been," Ellie reached back into her bag and pulled out two white claws "I snagged these from Dina's party, sorry this was kind of last minute."
I can't help the smile that grows on my face, I take one of the white claws and crack it open "I don't know how authentic this is gonna be if there isn't any canned Smirnoff."
I think back to exactly how that night played out and I take a seat on the sand, facing the crashing dark ocean. I sip my white claw, as expected Ellie takes a seat next to me, just what happened on the actual night.
"Wow," She says "You look really pretty and I'm an idiot for ever saying you looked awful," Ellie looks gorgeous illuminated by the orange light of the fire, and the breeze causes her flyaway hairs to drift in the wind. "I'm an asshole for pretending that I didn't know you, I was scared I would get hurt again and take it to heart like I did last time. I promise the second we get home that I'll come clean."
I don't know if I can deal with this sugary philosophy. She's being so sweet that it's rotting my teeth.
"Ellie," I say gathering my thoughts, it was so hard being honest with my feelings, it felt like I would get hospitalized if I showed any emotion. "I was so in love with you in high school that it killed me, and I was terrified that my parents would throw me out well, they did- but that's why I pushed you away and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't regret it."
The surprise on her face morphs into a soft smile "What about now?" she asks "Do you still love me?"
I shrug, it's honest "I dunno, but I think there's room to try."
She looks from me to the ocean and the way the moonlight glitters off the surface "What happened next?" Ellie toys with the tab of her drink "Did you hit me?"
"Yeah," I say softly, following her gaze out to the waters "But if we're doing the night how it should've been, I'd rather just kiss you."
Ellie turns her head back to look at me. She shoves her white claw into the sand then takes my face into one of her hands and kisses me like it's her job, so tender and carefully like she's afraid I will break beneath pressure.
How weak have I become? My heart is so full of her that I can hardly call it my own.
A/N: Be grateful for this ending because I was very tempted to give you guys an unhappy one. Sorry that I forgot to post this lol, I’m sad this series is over but excited to show you all my next one which may be the angst-iest yet 👀
Thanks for reading!
Tag list: @elliesaturnsoftdrink @elliesaesp @melanie-watermelon @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @skylerwhitwyo @lmaoo-spiderman @joliettes @kittnii @taylorgracies @sameenatruther @mikellie @belles-hell @fullmachinegirl @eveshyper @whosmica
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˖⁺。˚⋆˙clues | MV1˖⁺。˚⋆˙
pairing: max verstappen x singer!reader y/n (she/her)
genre: social media au
warnings: fluff af
summary: in which you and your boyfriend lay out clues for your fans to connect the dots of your new relationship
a/n: super cute req not a maisie fan myself but saw the soft launch pics nd immediately thought i need to make a fanfic of this 😝 ended up choosing max coz i feel like i've done slightly similar plots with oscar & lando before, i barely write for max !
request!!!: Hiii, I’ve never requested before so slightly nervous but I have idea lol. Idk if you know who Maisie peters is (amazing singer btw if you don’t know her go look her up!) but she recently just high key hard launched but covers the face of her bf, maybe you could do something like this for like max, Lando or Oscar 🤷♀️ I have been literally day dreaming about it and maybe like everyone’s trying to figure out who it is and with every picture that’s posted there’s clues idk!! Completely up to you! Anyway love your work 🫶🫶🫶
my masterlist
instagram ->
yourusername
liked by maxverstappen1, oliviarodrigo, and 892,283 others
yourusername ‘there it goes’ is urs now.. i hope u love it as much as i do 🫶
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user1 the love we had was eating me whole i had to send it home 🥺
user2 i threw a party he kissed me right in front of my friends ?!? 🤔
oliviarodrigo so amazing as always 🫶
yourusername ahh tysm angel!!!
yourbff SO PROUD OF U
yourusername love u so so much
user3 omg this song is so amazing im so happy she's moving on from her ex
user4 me too she deserves the world fr
user5 the way i loved u i will not be embarrassed of that ❤️
user6 she's so talented i love her fr
maxverstappen1 posted a story
liked by danielricciardo, yourbff, and 538,192 others
user7 OMG THE CROSSOVER
user8 wtf is max in london
user9 omg what is happeninggg
user10 feels sus
twitter ->
instagram ->
yourusername posted a story
liked by yourbff, maxverstappen1, and 718,634 others
user15 omg a bf ??
user16 OMG WHO IS HE
user17 boooo & we all wanted her to date max lol
user18 she alr has a man 😭
user19 max verstappen found d3@d
yourbff
liked by yourusername, gracieabrams, and 528,028 others
yourbff perks of ur best friend being famous xoxo
tagged: yourusername
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user20 not y/bff/n being a red bull supporter!!!
user21 another win for the maxy/n agenda
user22 obsessed with the y/n f1 crossover
yourusername car go zoom or whatever
yourbff ikr my favourite part was when they drove fast
gracieabrams tell y/n to get off the paddock & into the studio!!
yourbff i'll let you tell her that 😝
yourusername 🤨
user23 you tell her gracie
user24 y/n looks sooo cute
user25 ikr max verstappen found crying in the rb garage
yourusername
liked by yourbff, redbullracing, and 991,367 others
yourusername gives u wings 🪽
tagged: yourbff
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user26 omg the red bull references...
user27 IS SHE DATING MAX VERSTAPPEN I NEED TO KNOW
user28 so many clues
user29 maybe they're jus friends? they've never even been seen interacting
redbullracing 🫶
liked by yourusername
user30 something is happening
yourbff hehe 👀
user31 EVEN THIS IS SUSPICIOUS
user32 i feel like her first soft launch was too early for it to be max
twitter ->
interview ->
instagram ->
yourusername
liked by sabrinacarpenter, charles_leclerc, and 1,692,901 others
yourusername a crush? no well i would take him on a date if he wanted
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user35 ok im convinced
user36 this is so cute i could cry
user37 NOT HER QUOTING MAX IM FINISHED
user38 they're dating surely
user39 "reasons i love you" omg😭😭😭😭
user40 CHARLES IN THE LIKES?
yourbff favs
liked by yourusername
twitter ->
instagram ->
maxverstappen1
liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 1,021,732 others
maxverstappen1 the best tour guide 🇬🇧
tagged: yourusername
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user42 omg
user43 this is life changing
user44 IM SO SHOCKED
yourusername ❤️❤️
liked by maxverstappen1
user45 AHHH
yourbff finally
maxverstappen1 🤫
user46 can't believe my fav singer is dating my fav driver
user47 & who was it that said only hot girls support rb 😝
charles_leclerc my favourites
maxverstappen1 ❤️
twitter ->
instagram ->
yourusername
liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, and 1,927,183 others
yourusername my life my heart my love
tagged: maxverstappen1
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user51 this relationship might be the best thing to ever happen to me
user52 daniel ricciardo in the likes we won fr
user53 i love u y/n
user54 y/n love songs about max incoming
charles_leclerc we love having you around y/n !
yourusername ahhh tysm for being so welcoming
user55 OMGGG LOVEEEE
danielricciardo slay y/n
yourusername yupppp u know ittt
user56 FRIENDSHIP?!?!??
yourusername of course we're friends i have to earn the approval of all of max's boyfriends
danielricciardo HAHAHAH
maxverstappen1 🤨
maxverstappen1 i love you
yourusername i love you 🥰
THE END 💙
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some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:
when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.
the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).
the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.
on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.
my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.
i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.
i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.
i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.
every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.
i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.
for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.
here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!
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Is there a reason you didn't include an acknowledgements section in Camp Damascus?
yes actually, as man name of chuck i have spent a lot of time FINDING MY IDENTITY through masking and unmasking. in early days there were many more layers hiding me away and it took a while for me to understand WHY. over the last ten years buckaroos have very much seen me find myself through art, accepting and talking about my sexuality, neurodivergence, and gender.
there is ALWAYS a layer to protect my privacy, and to allow myself room for POETRY. example i like to give is that if i post 'i pet a dog today' i might have actually pet a cat, but everything i say is true is some sense. in the early days that truth was stretched farther because even i did not quite understand it my dang self, and it has been my journey to strip away as much of this mask as possible (sometimes called removing my skin) and BECOME MYSELF on this timeline (which is something i have always talked about)
if you have been following chuck for the last decade you will see my older posts were much more abstract and difficult to parse, they reference themes that i have since come to terms with, and this journey to find myself is WHY i have been able to do this. some could say it was the journey of a reverse twin adapting to their new timeline, others could say it was the journey of a neurodivergent artist allowing themselves the freedom to find a healthy expression and conquer their chronic pain from constant neurotypical masking.
FOR INSTANCE this is why i am wearing buckaroo suits on tour now, an outfit that is more true to the INNER ME. i used to answer interview questions with metaphor and now i just answer, only hiding certain details when i need to. i talk less about figures in my life back in billings who were REAL IDEAS and PARTS OF MYSELF but sometimes not flesh and blood or ghostly buckaroos. this is my trot, and this is why i am so strongly against gatekeepers in the buckaroo community. i have been becoming myself long before i knew what that meant.
so when it came time for acknowledgments i realized i would have to acknowledge buckaroos who helped along the way but also ABSTRACT IDEAS who helped along the way, symbols and themes that i have since decided i wanted to leave behind. it was important to me to create a new era of my expression where those abstract layers are respected but also stripped away. i have to respect the inner truth i am trying to cultivate, for way of my mental health and also my physical health.
so i DID write out acknowledgments and sent them to my buckaroos privately, then i said please do not include this in the public book. these days i want to hide behind as few layers as possible, that is my artistic journey now. buckaroos were very respectful and supportive.
very quick before we finish, there was one other small and important reason. i am so sincere ALL the dang time it is kind of my natural state to get very emotional and thankful, that i kinda thought 'i am going to give myself space here to NOT stress out over this for once'. i am constantly thinking about acknowledging others and i LOVE this part of my trot, but doing it in a way that is so defined and specific and maybe even performative (gotta write your acknowledgments now bud. HAVE to do it) felt at odds with my inner way.
anyway thank you for this very good question what a dang treat to talk about this detail and how much it means to me to find truth in my inner trot.
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