#I finally got around to posting this now that I'm back home from surgery!

[alicelufenia]

Ginny Di has to be my favorite D&D/roleplaying youtube creator, and her latest video dives deep into something we rarely see discussed about creating characters; designing their look.

Not just their physical appearance, but their colors, style, and features that hint to their origin, background, and personality. All the things that make characters stand out. She treats it as the creative process it is, and even walks us through the creation of an example character (as usual her costume design is absolute fire) that lays out steps useful for nailing down not just the look for your character, but what are the important things from their past that reflect how they present themselves now.

So I figured, why not do that for my own character? I'll give my Baldur's Gate 3 OC, Alice, the full treatment to see how well I did up to now, and maybe get ideas for what could use more focus. And since I'm putting together an rp blog for her as we speak, it'll give me an opportunity to explore these ideas more closely, and show the thought process behind them. I won't go deep into her background as I already did over here, so check that link out if you want to know some things about her pre-game (note: spoilers on The Dark Urge storyline in full, it's kinda important to take it all into account)

Main Theme

Going into this I already know a ton about Alice that can help us nail down various themes, which I'll highlight throughout based on whether they represent a Conflict or Challenge, or a Grounding or Aspiration for her character.

She's The Dark Urge origin, the amnesiac with an incessant bloodlust and a hole in her head where her lifetime memories used to be.

Right off the bat the Dark Urge presents us with some obvious themes of Loss. Loss of self, loss of the past, loss of control. Another predominant theme is Indulgence, the satisfying of appetites, or the Denial of said urges. Even more simple visual themes come to mind, like Blood (blood... blood... blood...), the spilling of it, or even blood as a symbol of Life or Passion; or Daggers, weapons of assassination and Intimate violence.

She is a half wood-elf of great Stature, unusually tall and muscular for one of Elven heritage, and at one point in life she was a paladin sworn to a Divine Oath. An oath that she has forgotten just like everything else in her life. Whenever she tries to recall her vow, only whispers of death respond. Additionally, her very soul is unlike others of her kind, with Shadow Magic permeating it, giving her an instinctive command over magic since birth. That being her cursed birth as a Bhaalspawn, an offspring of the Lord of Murder, a Prodigy crafted in His Image who will Slay The World in His name.

One of the earliest themes I picked up on when first designing Alice was Duality. The radiance of her paladin roots contrasting with the darkness of her shadow magic. Further, while paladins are often associated with those of a Regal nature, possessing intense Discipline and Willpower, the Urge not only leads her to Seek Violence, but seek it with uncontrolled, feral, Animalistic intensity that abandons all traces of technique, dignity, and restraint.

Phew, that's a lot of potential themes there! Out of these, I think the most compelling to me are those of contrasts, so I'll narrow in on Loss, which already encompasses so much, and is analogous to darkness, and Glory, which includes discovery, growth, beauty, and bettering oneself and others.

Let's refer to her central theme as Dark Splendour.

Color Palette

Right away I know I want to work with the color red, Alice's ginger hair and freckles being her most prominent features. Red also symbolizes blood, passion, and aggression. I also want to use a nice neutral like black, and while I could call it a day there, red and black are such a common color combination I really want to add another. Luckily, I already know that she looks great in gold and yellow, which is related to radiance, status and boldness, and is analogous to red. yellow and black also represent danger, being colors in nature for venomous/poisonous creatures, and on warning signs. So, red, gold/yellow and black. I like it!

Ginny's Four Aspect Character Design

Now that we have our main theme (and explored all the minor themes that led us to it), and our color choices and what they mean for Alice, we're ready to define four broad Aspects, four notable Things that stand out about the character.

1. What Were They Born With?

I've already conveniently highlighted Alice's most prominent features, her red hair and heavy freckles that cover her face and body. Notably, her hair and freckles bear a striking resemblance to the color of fresh blood; like a deep reddish brown, and appear more saturated in direct sunlight. Indeed, if she's been speckled with blood following a fight or murder, unless she's excessively coated it can sometimes be hard to notice against her naturally speckled pale skin and dark ginger hair.

She also has naturally blue eyes, but her right eye changes to a pastel pink later in life. We'll get to that in the next aspect.

Finally, in contrast to her wood elven heritage that tends towards coppery or light brown skin tones, she is extremely pale. Not to the point of ghost white, but a much cooler pale tone than you'd expect. Here we see the biggest influence of her nature as a bhaalspawn.

2. What Has Their Upbringing Left Them With?

Now we get into actual lived experiences for our little murder elf! For this aspect I'm focusing in on the most positive outcome of having foster parents; being well read in both fantasy and historical accounts, and fully supported in her desire to transition her gender from male to female. A side-effect of her fantasy hrt comes in her right eye gaining a shade of pink instead of her natural pale blue color. This also marks the first time she overtly defies Bhaal, who will accept, but ultimately undermine, her freedom to be the woman she wants to be. Even if she doesn't know about her origins yet, the seed of rebellion is planted.

As do many transfems who have difficulty living up to the elegant waif that is the socially expected expression of ultimate femininty, Alice takes the time to adorn herself in ways that signal her feminine nature, most often with elaborate tiaras or circlets that can be worn even in battle. In BG3 the very first such headdress she acquires is the Key of the Ancients thorny crown that she comes across after an unfortunate encounter with Nettie, and later the Diadem of Arcane Synergy, which becomes her go-to accessory throughout the game.

3. What Have Their Experiences Left Them With?

Scars. Scars scars scars, everywhere! Her body's freckled landscape is criss crossed with scars both old and new. Many of which came from various attempts at self-harm earlier in life, but also those acquired in her cultist years. After Orin's betrayal and Alice's subsequent imprisonment and torture at the hands of Kressa Bonedaughter, she received even more, most notably a rough and splitting laceration across her face that is noticably more fresh than most of her other scars.

4. What Have They Chosen For Themselves?

When she walks into a room, more than anything Alice wants to project Authority and Admiration. She favors lighter armor decorated with her chosen colors that proclaim her combat prowess. Lots of signs of battle damage patched haphazardly, a contrast to the accompanying elegant headdresses showing she has means to care for her looks. A successful adventurer with a princess fixation.

When at ease back at camp or the elfsong inn, she prefers sheer fabric dressings colored black and dark red, showing her confidence in her body and a desire to remain understated with the muted colors.

Well, that's a lot more unique asethetic choices than I thought at first! And a decent amount of detail for commissioning art of her, for instance. Right now I don't have many screenshots that properly capture all of this design detail, but will follow this up with any that I make later.

[quantum1mmortality]

Im so glad you're writing for Curly bc I'm so obsessed with him rn!! May I suggest (if you haven't done them already) some soft/fluffy post burn hcs? Like finally seing him again after a long drive to the hospital, mentally preparing yourself for what he might look like. Curly being so afraid about how you'd react, and just breaking down when you let out an "oh, Curly :(" and softly place a hand on his cheek, so worried that you might hurt him by accident that it's hardly even a touch at all. Curly leaning his cheek into your palm, having been so scared to see you and now so desperate for your touch.

Life returning to a new normal after a while, prosthetics and PT, skin grafts, so on. Lying in bed with him and being so relived and happy when he gets a spark of mischief like he used to and tries to tickle or play wrestle with you. Him quietly asking questions when the laughter dies down. if you missed his lips, or the blond hair you loved so much that now hardly grew at all. Reassuring him that it didn't matter what he looked like, or what he could and could not do anymore. He's still your curly.

Sorry this turned out so long 😭 I can't get him out of my head!

I LOVE what you wrote 🙏🙏 I'll be going off of these, taking bits and pieces of your hcs and then putting them in here. Overall just gonna be fluffy post crash Curly hcs :)

Of topic, but the way some people in this fandom treat post crash curly makes me nauseous. Finding out that some of you wouldn't treat him like I would makes me wanna cry. Maybe I'm too empathetic or maybe I'm a baby back bitch, either way, I'd care for this man so much. Y'all don't understand how much I love him.

Tw/cw; none!! One curse word but that's literally it (I think)

Not proofread

Extremely sensitive to touch for the first few weeks. I feel as though curly would be in incredible pain, but would try his best to keep your hands touching his cheeks, face, body in general. He'd even go as far as to whimper at how bad it hurt, yet still enduring it because he needed to know you still loved him.

He'd be so happy to see you anytime you were around. Just like pre crash, but it was more special. It got to the point where you would take off work for weeks at a time just to be with him, just so you could see him happy.

After the first two months of agonizing pain, you'd start touching him more. Not sexual, obviously, but just getting more physically affectionate. You'd be able to hug and kiss him goodbye, and hold on to his arm as you talked with him.

Speaking of talking, he wouldn't be able to, so you would talk for him. Basically telling him something, then answering any questions he may or may not have. You've known him long enough, you know how he'd react and question things, so it was practically a no brainer for you.

Now that he doesn't feel as much pain as he used to from your touches, you'd begin sleeping with him. NOT SEXUAL!!! Just cuddling up next to him in the hospital bed, laying your head on his shoulders and kissing him goodnight. Just like how you used to.

Eventually he'd start getting prosthetics, and aside from the physical therapy he's usually getting, you'd bring board games and playing cards so he could learn to use his new hands while still spending time with you.

Curly used to kick your ass in uno and honestly he still does. The trembling in his hands would slowly go away over time, and you were helping him with that much more than his physical therapist was; because at least he wanted to actually be around you.

After months and months, he'd finally be ready to take home. New prosthetics and a bunch of skin graft surgeries later, he's in good condition again. Not perfect in his eyes, but it is in yours.

He wouldn't be able to work, but Pony Express sends him checks as if he was. He gets enough from them, you could quit your job, but you don't want to be dependent on them. So you keep working.

Getting home from work is your favorite part of the day, having Curly be so happy to see you makes everything so worth it.

Your home life goes back to normal with a few exceptions, but nothing too drastic. Curly being in a wheelchair and still not being able to speak, but it's nothing you can't handle. You love him, you're willing to make sacrifices. He'd do the same for you, and you know that.

Bonus content; if you guys were married before the crash, once he got his prosthetic hands, he'd have you help him make a little beaded necklace for his ring to go on; that way he could still wear it :) he'd never take the necklace off once it's done

A/N; I've been pretty busy recently so sorry for the delay on requests; I have a lot of ideas for them though so hopefully they'll be out soon

[httpsserene]

Speaking of Mr. Daniel, we all know that he injured himself a while ago. How about the reader faking an orgasm because she doesn’t want to tire or injure him? Daniel frowns immediately upon noticing, but the nurse kicks you out because it’s past hours, and he's longing for the reader. He tries to grab the reader to come back but winces in pain, proving the reader's point. Your pleasure is extremely important to him so he’ll stop functioning if you said otherwise.

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐆𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬

Summary: When Daniel isn’t feeling well, it’s no hardship for her to take of him. Except this time, he broke his hand and is proceeding to be an absolute nightmare to take care of. They haven’t had sex since before the accident in Zandvoort because she’s afraid that somehow she’ll end up aggravating his injury. Daniel, however, has convinced himself that he only exists to bring her pleasure. So, she comes up with a plan to soothe his service dom tendencies. Enter, Operation Fake Orgasm. How hard can it be? Spoiler alert: she’s a terrible actress. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!black-coded!reader(her skintone isn't referenced but she has braids.) Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. orgasm/delay denial. hurt/comfort. caretaking. servicedom!daniel. discussion of pain medication, injuries, and hospitals. dom/sub undertones. sub/shy!reader. praise kink mentioned. sensual beard shaving (it's hot). wet dreams. somnophilia. safe, sane, and consensual. oral sex (m and f receiving). vaginal sex. fake orgasm. mentioned multiple orgasms. Word Count: 3.6k words

Author's Notes: if the tags scare you, i promise it's not that bad!

secondly, thank you for the patience concerning the delay. my sister is doing a lot better now! she had an allergic reaction to pollen; she inhaled so much that her lungs freaked the fuck out on her, and i was in the hospital from 9am-9pm all day. finally got back home so i'm posting it, way late, but at least it's on the same day.

to make up for it, even though my lil sis was nearly taken out by the environment (i'm joking i love her i'm just being a big sister rn), i am releasing episode four on friday! and episode five on either tuesday or wednesday next week!

i hope you all like this episode xxx

prev 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

The sound of bedsheets ruffling contrasts with the monotonous beeps of the heart monitor filling the sterile hospital room; the noise is more than enough to have you snapping your head away from your phone to look at your boyfriend. Daniel’s awake and he meets your eyes with a soft groan. You coo at him softly, squeezing his hand gently as he reorients himself.

“What time ‘st?” Daniel croaks out. You cringe at the sound of his dry speech and quickly hand him the glass of water resting at his bedside.

“It’s getting late, baby,” you hum, not failing to notice the slight wince he does when his cast knocks against the bed rail, “I sent Michael back to the hotel not too long ago, around 7. Charles, Lando, Max, and Oscar came and kept me company while you were in surgery. Oscar, I think, was pretty shaken up still—to me, I could tell he felt a little guilty that you’re here with a broken hand and he’s as right rain—so, maybe when you’re more clear-headed you can reach out to him. Yuki and Michael were here the first time you woke up. Still, you were so high on your pain medication cocktail, that I think you were hearing colors and seeing sounds,” you break from your ramble, suddenly standing and reaching over the bed to press the call button, remembering the nurse told you to alert her as soon as he woke again.

“Yes?” Daniel offers, unsure of how to respond to the edge in your tone, “I’m feeling better by the way—.”

A hysterical giggle slips from your lips, and you can see the regret wash over his face when you meet his eyes with a crazed look, “Forgive me, for not asking how you were feeling right away Daniel. It’s almost like, my brain isn’t working properly because I’m fucking worried about you. Yeah? I watched you crash into the barriers, and I heard you in pain—I called everyone on your team to get updates and nobody answered! So, I got on the next flight to Zandvoort after Michael finally texted me with updates, with no luggage, just my phone and a change of clothes—so forgive me, for not checking in on you right away, after you didn’t call me once,” you blink rapidly and Daniel softens, clearly it was a terrible time to deflect with humor, he just hates to see you worry about him, that’s why he avoided calling. He’s usually the one taking care of you.

“A-are you feeling better, though?” you ask shakily, deflating quickly at the sight of his warm brown eyes, “You’re going to set off every metal detector for the foreseeable future.”

“It’s like a 6 out 10 on the pain scale—”

“That’s what I’m here for,” the nurse interrupts in accented English, smiling at the two of you briefly before she moves to Daniel’s side and catching him up on the outcome of the surgery and discussing pain medication. 

“Visiting hours ended an hour ago,” the nurse speaks to you directly, “Did nobody come to escort you out?”

You shake your head in surprise, the time on your phone reads 9 PM—you have no recollection of time passing that quickly since Michael left. Gathering your few belongings, you lean down to kiss Daniel gently, “Be good for the doctors and nurses, Danny. I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”

“No, what—she can’t stay?” Daniel begs the nurse, and she frowns at him apologetically.

Ruffling his hair, you continue, “It’s not her fault—she’s just doing her job. And, we’re besties now,” Daniel stares at you confused, “She’s been coming to check up on me the entire time you decided to cosplay Sleeping Beauty so if you decide to be difficult overnight, she will not hesitate to snitch on you to me. Understand?”

Daniel swallows before nodding jerkily, “Can I have another kiss?”

It’s an easy ask for you to fulfill; but as your lips barely brush his, Daniel hisses out in pain. He tried to use his left hand to pull you closer to him, obviously aggravating the injury. You exclaim worriedly and he tries to pretend that the flare of pain wasn’t that severe. But, as the nurse reassures you that the pain meds will kick in and he’ll go right to sleep, you’ve already decided: that hand will never be in a situation that causes Daniel unnecessary pain again. 

You tell Daniel that same sentence on the flight back to Monaco. He assumed that meant you’d force him to wear a sling or have it constantly cushioned and elevated (which you did anyway). However, he should’ve asked you to elaborate because he was completely blindsided to learn that you really meant all situations. 

You may have gone overboard the first week. You’re well aware that his hand is the only broken thing on his body, but you pamper him as if he’s bedridden with the most severe flu seen in the last century. You cook and order him hearty meals, you have alarms set for when he needs to take his medication, you shower with him to make sure he doesn’t wet his cast—where nothing sexual happens, you killed the vibe the first time he insinuated shower sex in conversation, mentioning the statistics of shower-related deaths—you quickly fulfill all of his requests, even if it’s sitting through a movie you find tasteless; yet, you refuse to fulfill one: sex. 

The doctor pulled you aside while Daniel was getting dressed to be discharged and told you to make sure he’s very careful with his arm, slow and controlled movements only, nothing abrupt. 

And, if there’s one word to describe Daniel during sex, it would probably be abrupt. 

He can’t keep his hands off of you when he’s uninjured. From your first time with Daniel, he showed and proved just how much your pleasure is important to him—he made sure that you understood that he lives and breathes to make you satisfied. But, you also know that he’d ignore his pain if it meant he was making you feel good; and, that’s not something you can risk, not with an injury that could affect his career if it doesn’t heal properly. 

You’ve reiterated that to him multiple times when Daniel tries to deepen kisses, hoping you’ll forget about your stupid sex ban and let him make you feel good. He’s not used to going this long without making sure you’re sexually satisfied. You don’t even allow him to guide you through masturbation, because you know you won’t be satisfied with it even if you get off—it’ll only lead to you falling into his lap begging for more. 

On the eighth day, you’re sitting in Daniel’s lap on the couch, rubbing ointment into the bruises left by the seatbelts of the car. You thought he was focused on watching the entire Dutch Grand Prix he missed out on, not thinking much of how he’s toying with the length of your braids with his uninjured hand. 

You think nothing of the soft sighs, moans, and groans he’s letting out of his mouth as you lightly massage him. All of these noises are common reactions to a sensation that feels good. It sucks that they happen to sound very similar to the moans Daniel makes when he initially fucks into you. You’re just a girl with needs that Daniel never fails to take care of; you’re not used to this, for the same reason Daniel can’t understand why you won’t let him get you off. 

Then, Daniel gasps out a soft ‘fuck’ that has no reason to be sounding that lustful and you start to squirm in his lap. You mindlessly continue to massage him, not exactly proud of the way you continue to strain your ears to hear his noises—and on one particular shift of your hips, you brush across his hard-on that wasn’t there a few minutes ago, and automatically fly off his lap.

In the frantic movement, Daniel tried to use both of his hands to keep you in his lap, irritating his broken hand. You flutter around him worriedly, your words a mix of chastising and displeasure. You don’t hesitate to say that this is exactly why the sex ban is in place (Daniel pleaded that it was a fluke, but you’re not eager to put that to the test).

Three days pass before Daniel deems you relaxed enough to have another attempt at seducing you into an orgasm or two. He approached you in the evening after you had watched him like a hawk as he took his pain medication. He wants you to shave his beard. It’s grown out some since he hasn’t shaved in a week or so. You’re not a professional beard shaver or anything, but you can imagine it’s difficult to shave your face with one hand. And of course, you’d jump at any opportunity to help out your boyfriend and allow him to relax and look pretty. After an unnecessarily long tutorial, Daniel pretends to have 100% faith in your skills and lets you take the first swipe across his cheek. You painstakingly use slow movements and light pressure, not forgetting to pull his skin tight with your other hand and clean the razor off with every stroke. You feel him tense underneath you as you ready to attempt shaving along his jawline. 

Pulling back at the last second, you make to smack his shoulder before hesitating and pinching him instead (it’s his left arm, you don’t want to jostle his cast resting on the bathroom vanity), ignoring his yelp you nag him, “Well, don’t act like I’m about to gouge your throat out or anything! I can feel you freeze up underneath me—it’s not like I want to cut you. I already have to stare at your ugly face every day, I don’t want to make it worse.”

Daniel pretends to be offended at your attack and the two of you bicker back and forth before settling down. The fake roast session calmed Daniel enough that when you brought the razor to his jaw, he remained relaxed. 

You smoothly shave the small area of skin and turn to clean the razor when Daniel speaks softly, “You’re so good,” a slight pause follows, “at this.” 

The praise tingles down your spine and you think nothing of it. Except, it continues. With nearly every swipe along his jaw, he continues to murmur praise with lidded eyes and an alluring tone. Whispers along the lines of ‘good girl,’ ‘just like that,’ ‘you’re so sweet to me,’ and paired with his stare dancing across your face, you dread the moment you finish shaving him. As your razor ventures down his throat, the air grows thick with intimacy. It’s the result of your boyfriend trusting you to repeatedly brush a blade along his throat and your unfortunate kink for praise and acts of service. With the last brush of the razor, you gently set it down on the vanity, exchanging it for cloth you wet with hot water. Ringing it out thoroughly, you gently begin to wipe Daniel’s face avoiding eye contact. When you swipe around his lips, you get distracted by their flushed color, a result of when Daniel bit his lip to make the skin underneath taut for you to shave. His tongue slips out to wet them and you can’t help but smash your lips to his.

It feels euphoric. You’re kissing him frantically, moaning into his mouth without inhibition, and you can feel him laugh as he struggles to match your desperate pace. His hand squeezes at your waist, anchoring you yet furthering your desperation at the strong grip as you try to climb him like a tree, tugging at his hair, shirt, pants, anything you can reach. At this point, Daniel would’ve had a hand in your hair, tugging at your scalp sharply a couple of times to rein you in and move you to his rhythm. You’re a little lost at the missing sensation and you pull away to pout at Daniel like you always do when he spends too much time teasing you.

It takes one look at his blown pupils, smug smile, and heaving chest before it jogs your memory. You step backward quickly to put space between you guys, raising a hand when you see him open his mouth, knowing he’s only going to convince you to get naked for him.

“I’m going to bed,” you state with a pointed finger, “You, are going to get in the shower, with cold water, and think about what you did wrong. And! You will not wake me up for sex.”

Daniel’s face falls, and you can tell he expected you to break, “Wait—you don’t let me shower by myself, what if I fall?”

You turn and leave the room, “It would be divine intervention. Karma, for trying to get me to break my rule.”

Daniel doesn’t wake you when he slips into bed, but you lose the benefit of going to sleep early when you jolt awake before sunrise. Your mouth is dry and your panties are embarrassingly wet. You can’t recall a single detail of your dream. Still, your legs are trembling at whatever scenario your brain decided to torment you with. 

Fuck it. Or fuck him, literally.

That makes sense. You’re going to ride Daniel, it’s the perfect position to make sure he doesn’t move his arm. You work him up beforehand so hopefully he won’t last as long; Daniel has unparalleled stamina usually, but with you constantly denying him for a while…he may wind up quicker. As soon as he cums, you’ll fake yours as well—because he’s only pleased if you're satisfied, otherwise he’ll attempt a round two. It’s that easy, right? You turn on your side and stare at Daniel, his face relaxed as he sleeps. Your synapses start firing as the plan comes to life. The two of you have discussed somnophilia, more on you as the receiving party. Daniel, of course, offered himself to you on a silver platter—any taste of you using him to get off? That’s always going to be a yes from him. So, yes. It is that easy.

You pull the duvet down to the edge of the bed and quietly shift to hover over Daniel’s thighs, never more thankful that he decided to wear only briefs to bed. And that he’s already half-hard; you’re extremely happy that the two of you don’t have a hand on how creative your dreams can get. He doesn’t shift when you pull his cock from underneath his briefs, carefully dragging them

down just enough to not be a bother. He stays under as you get him hard, it only takes a few strokes and some teasing along a vein on the underside. You rise slightly, sucking on two of your fingers before bringing them to rest along your entrance. It’s an annoying experience, you can’t remember the last time you had to stretch yourself out—Daniel’s spoiled you. The feeling of your fingers inside of you is underwhelming, the slight tinge of pleasure would be multiplied if it were him instead but; this is not for you. You are simply performing tonight.

You slide your fingers out and decide on getting Daniel as close to the edge as you can before he wakes up. You lean down to mouth at the head of his cock, knowing it’s incredibly sensitive and the sensation pushes him to the edge quicker than anything else. It can’t be more than a couple of strained minutes—your eyes and ears peeled to make sure you don’t miss any signs of Daniel starting to awaken. Thankfully, you feel him start to pulse along your tongue, a sure sign that he’s getting there.

You pull off, taking a second to breathe as you rest your head on his hip. With one last reassuring exhale, you move to straddle him, one hand underneath you to guide his length to your pussy. The second his head pops into you, you let out a pitiful whimper, eyelids fluttering shut, and your legs begin trembling again. Another realization hits you as you struggle to silently take all of Daniel.

You can’t recall a single time Daniel had forced you to be quiet. He’s always trying to make you scream his name. If he needs to hide your noises he muffles them with a hand over your mouth or his fingers in your mouth. Naturally, you use his tricks and do the same. With two of your fingers shoved in your mouth, you quiet your sounds as your ass meets your (somehow still) sleeping boyfriend's thighs. It feels like he’s in your throat; you know that no matter how long it takes you to make him cum, you’re going to be aching tomorrow. You begin to grind against him, whimpering softened around your digits. You slowly increase your rhythm up to a bounce, doing your best to squeeze around him—Daniel has mentioned before that he can’t resist cumming when you feel like you're trying to keep him inside of you and never let him pull out.

It must work because suddenly Daniel’s hips rock up into yours, and he’s awake with a singular breathy moan of, “Yes—oh, I thought I was still dreaming.”

You laugh airily, letting your spit-slicken fingers fall from your mouth and drop to press against your clit (you’re not actually, you’ve missed it by a mile but it’s all about convincing Daniel), avoiding meeting his eyes knowing Danny will assume it’s under the pretense of you being shy (once again, yes you are incredibly mortified, but you know he’ll be able to tell that you're faking this in a split second).

“H-how long,” Daniel moans out crackly, his abdomen contracting underneath you, “Have you been at this? ‘Gonna make me cum already.”

You nod frantically, moaning out loudly as if you’re on the edge as well. Daniel gets his feet planted and thrusts up into you forcefully enough that your moans turn real. Throwing your head back so he doesn’t see your face in case it gives you away, you continue to moan out exaggeratedly as you feel him cum inside you, pitching your voice and shuddering as if you released as well.

“What the fuck was that?” Daniel commands quietly.

You slump forward, sliding off his softening length and nuzzling into his neck to pretend like you didn’t hear him and to hide. He lets you avoid answering the first time he asks. He takes his good hand and fists his hand in the braids along the nape of your neck and tightens his grasp enough to get you to gasp.

“Mhm. When you cum, baby,” he starts softly, “That’s the quietest you ever get during sex. Usually, it’s because you choke on your breath, even though I remind you to breathe through it every time. You do this cute little thing where you try to slam your thighs shut around me, it doesn’t matter if it’s my hand, my head, or my hips, you try to crush me. It’s also one of the only times during sex when you make eye contact with me on your own, well depending on what position I have you in. I won’t repeat myself.”

You mumble into his chest fitfully before sitting up, “I didn’t want you to hurt your hand, okay? That’s all. During sex, you can never stop touching me and I was afraid that somehow you’d treat your hand a little too roughly and then, boom, you’ll never drive a Formula One car again—”

“Calm down, babe,” Daniel soothes you, bringing his right hand to massage your hip, “I think you’ve overdramatized my injury in your head a little bit. Firstly, I don’t even care if my hand suddenly fell off—genuinely, never deprive me of making you feel good. That hurts me more than my hand aches. Secondly, this entire time I didn’t even move my left hand off the bed. See?”

You look down at his hand and nod once. This entire time you enforced a needless sex ban when you could’ve been riding a high every day.

“Now, if you could be kind enough to let me restore my ego,” Daniel taps you on the ass so you rise to kneel over him, “C’mere and sit on my face.”

You hesitate, the thought of pretending to deny him crosses your mind, but you already shorted yourself of one orgasm tonight. That’s how you find yourself riding Daniel’s face, embarrassingly almost losing control of your legs at the first knock of his nose against your clit. Your boyfriend has mastered the skill of eating pussy and that’s why you feel no shame in just how quickly a few targeted thrusts of his tongue and the pressure of his nose have you shattering apart above him. And as Daniel said, you do choke on your breath as you climax, your legs tighten around his head as well—and you don’t have the strength to be humiliated at how he knows your body better than yourself.

Daniel guides you off his mouth and lays you down by his side only using the uninjured arm, and the care and strength behind that movement sends you shaking again through the aftershock and come down. 

Daniel coaxes you onto your back and nudges your legs open to slide in between them. He trails the fingers of his right hand across your fluttering folds, before spreading you open with two fingers, enamored at the way your relaxed entrance winks at him. 

“You can give me one or two more right? I think you need a reminder of how much I thrive off of making you feel good, pretty girl. Let’s see how many more I can get out of you before the sunrise.”

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© httpsserene 2023

[crazywolf828]

Hey there friends

I wanted to hold off making any donation posts until I knew how much it would cost but the situation got a lot more dire.

Mom's had a heart attack, my grandpa died, and my uncles are coming after our house.

My grandfather died just before Christmas, it was a shock to all of us as he seemed to be doing fine. His final wishes were to be cremated and spread over the beaches with my grandma, everyone has known this, but because he didn't write a will before getting sick with Alzheimer's and dementia all of his children have to agree on what to do with his body. If they don't he gets turned over to the state and disposed of, and we never get him back.

Yesterday my mom had a mild heart attack, she's still in the hospital now (though she seems to be doing better) because we found out my uncles are refusing to cooperate. I'll explain the full story under the cut but they haven't been around for over twelve years and are now coming after our house.

The funeral is at minimum going to be 4k not including any lawyers we need to get to get control of his body and fight my uncles. If you can spare anything at all, please I'm begging more now than ever before, donate if you can or just reblog.

Thank you all, so much, for everything you do and have done.

My uncles have never been around, the last time was after a settlement from my grandmothers wrongful death where they took almost all the money. We got enough to buy our current house and that was it. My mom and grandpa specifically put on the deed that they both owned it so my uncles couldn't steal it once my grandpa passed away.

Well, we found out it is considered an asset, until we are able to get a death certificate to get his name off the house and give my mom full ownership, my uncles can technically try and get a part of his assets (even though we have no other money).

We haven't seen them in 15 years. They weren't around when we had to take care of my grandpa after his surgery in 2016 and his decline in mental health after. We couldn't afford to put him in a home so we did what we could.

They weren't there during the outbursts and anger of my grandpa not knowing who we were, having to give him baths, change his diapers, taking him to the hospital, making sure his food was soft enough he could eat it. But now they think there's money on the line and they want to bleed us dry when all we have is our house.

We were told all of this yesterday at the funeral home, told that if we don't go to court or they don't all agree on what to do with his body then he gets turned over to the state and disposed of. We would never get him back.

The stress caused my mom to have a minor heart attack, she was transferred to a bigger hospital and is currently having a cath test done because she already has an autoimmune disease.

I can't do much else to help other than come on here and ask for help, I have so many of my own illnesses that prevent me from working and the government is giving me a tough time trying to get on disability.

It's a lot and I'm just so lost and I'm sorry to ask again, I'm sorry to make another donation post, but please, we need this so much, every bit helps.

[vodika-vibes]

Typo

Summary: A recent graduate from Medical School, and needing a job, you posted your resume on a job search site. It was easy, your name and your specialization, internal medicine. Turns out, you really shouldn’t post things when you’re more asleep than awake, because you accidentally typed infernal medicine. Now you’re an employee at a hospital in Hell. At least the cost of living is pretty low.

Pairing: Commander Cody x GN!Reader

Prompt: Demon Cody

Word Count: 1232

Warnings: None, really

A/N: So I had a ghost of an idea, but I'm not sure if I made it clear. Also, I had an idea for a second part to a Wrecker fic, but when I tried to start writing it my brain just went, "Nuh-uh. Cody only."

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“My mother will be so disappointed in me,” You say with a sigh as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand.

The person you’re eating lunch with, Emerie, lifts her eerie golden gaze away from her meal. Emerie, like everyone else here, is a demon. She’s a wonderful nurse, though. If you had someone like her when you were doing your residency life would have been smooth sailing.

“Why would she be disappointed in you?” Emerie asks before she takes a bite of her lunch.

“Mother and father wanted me to become a plastic surgeon,” You explain, finally lifting your head from your hand and stabbing your salad. You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to eat anything grown in Hell. As it happens, not only can you eat it, it is actually healthier than anything you ate back home.

Ironic.

Emerie blinks at you, “You hate plastic surgery.” She points out. “You had a whole thirty-minute rant about vanity surgeries the other day. I recorded you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because it amused me,” Emerie replies with a shrug, “Anyway, you’re an amazing doctor. You’re already the head of Infernal Medicine.”

“Yeaaah. You do realize that I made a typo on my resume, right?”

Emerie taps her chin, “Well when it became sink or swim time, you managed to save his majesty. So typo or not, you’re in.”

You flash the other woman a tired smile, “Well, I’ve always been a decent swimmer.”

Emerie grins and finishes her lunch, “You proved it. Now everyone is on your side.” Her grin widens, “Plus, there’s the way Marshal Commander Cody looks at you.”

“Please stop.” You say as your face burns at her comment.

“Okay, okay. But only because I have to get back on the floor.” Emerie grins at you, “I’ll see you later, Doc.”

Emerie leaves and you sigh as you take a sip of your drink, your mind already wandering away from your work and onto Marshal Commander Cody.

Tall and broad, with striking golden eyes, and a quick wit, you and Commander Cody formed a fast friendship while he was escorting you from your apartment on the surface to your new apartment here in Hell.

Even though it had been an easy trip, it still took several days since you both had to travel by foot. And you peppered him with questions about Hell and the rules and everything that you needed to know to thrive here, and he was happy to answer your questions. While peppering you with questions of his own.

When he dropped you off at your new apartment, you thought that you would never see him again.

Only he kept showing up in the same area as you.

Eventually, after a month of him always being there, Cody admitted to you that the King tasked him with making sure that you adjusted to this new life effortlessly, though he also admitted that he would continue sticking around until you got tired of him.

And the truth?

You don’t think you will ever get tired of him.

You look up when someone slides into the seat across from you, and you tilt your head curiously when you see Cody sitting there.

“I wasn’t aware that you were a doctor or a nurse, Commander,” You say dryly.

“I’m not.” He leans back in the seat, his arms crossing across his broad chest, and a small grin playing on his lips, “But see, no one here is actually going to try and stop me either. Privilege of rank, you know.”

“Mm-hmm,” You take a bite of your salad, and then set the fork down, “Was there something you needed?”

You twitch slightly when you feel his tail wrap around your ankle and then slide up your calf, though your only other reaction is a slightly exasperated look.

“Do I need a reason to come and see you, cyar’ika?” Cody asks, his beautiful golden eyes darkening to a deep orange as he leans in slightly.

You don’t look away, and he grins at you. “Well,” You say thoughtfully, after a moment, “I suppose not. But generally people don’t visit the doctors at the hospital.” You point out.

Cody shrugs, “I want to see you, not anyone else. Are you busy?”

“Always.”

His grin widens, “Wanna go for a walk?”

“So long as I don’t actually leave the hospital, then that’s fine.” You agree, “There’s a small garden out back.”

He stands and offers you his hand, which you take with a roll of your eyes. Though, you are glad that he thought ahead and pulled his tail away from your leg before expecting you to walk.

You toss your trash and allow him to tug you out of the cafeteria, down an almost empty hall, and out the side door that leads to the garden.

As soon as the door closes behind you, Cody shifts his hand so that his fingers are threaded with yours, and he squeezes your hand gently before he tugs you away from the building and towards a cluster of trees.

“So, what’s this about anyway?” You ask as you glance up at the deep purple sky for a moment before you focus your attention back on Cody. 

“I need to tell you something.” He seems to look around for a moment, and then he grins and tugs you off the path and between two large trees. For a moment you can’t see anything because of how dark it is, but then you’re in a clearing.

Quickly, Cody releases your hand and lightly places his hands on your shoulders. He walks you backward so that you’re back presses against a tree, and even with him pinning you like this, you’re not the least bit afraid. 

Deeply flustered, maybe. But not afraid.

Cody leans in and presses his forehead against yours, and you can just barely feel the ridges of his horns pressed against your forehead. “Am I making you nervous, cyar’ika?”

“No,” You admit honestly, as your hands slowly drag up his arms to press against his cheeks, “A little curious, maybe. But not afraid. Not of you.”

“Good,” He shifts, just a little bit, and then his lips are pressed against yours. You stiffen, at first, in surprise. But then you relax into the kiss, dropping your arms to wrap around his neck.

He seems to like that, as he presses even tighter against you, his tail coming up to wrap securely around your waist.

Cody breaks the kiss before you do, and he laughs softly when you try to follow him to keep kissing him. You pout at him, unable to help it, “Why’d you stop?”

“Needed to make sure that you’re willing,” Cody teases, “Plus,” He pulls his vibrating comm out of his pocket, “I have to get back to base.”

You slump slightly, “Oh.”

“Tonight, cyare. I’ll pick you up after my shift.” Cody promises, “And then I’ll kiss you until you get tired of it.”

“What if I don’t?”

He grins and kisses you quickly, “Then I guess I’ll just spend the night.” He kisses you one more time, and then finally releases you, “Back to work, Doc. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“I—”

He presses a finger against your lips, “Later, cyare. I promise.”

And, slowly, you nod. “Alright. Later then.”

@imabeautifulbutterfly

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[damazcuz]

saw a post yesterday telling young trans people not to give up and try to force yourself back to what other people want you to be because even if shit seems impossible now someday it will be behind you. and i didn't reblog at the time so now it's gone to the ether but like. Speaking As Someone Who came out at 16-17 and had zero support from my family and couldn't get gender affirming medical care due to age and cost and lack of family support:

I went back into the closet at around 19 because it seemed like it was the easiest and best and only way for everyone to stop hurting me, that if i could just grin and bear it and pretend to be a woman for the rest of my life (which i did not expect to be very long) well at least my parents would still love me in the end. you know? i might be miserable until the day i die but at least other people will be happy with me and love me.

and while a lot of the overt aggression at home stopped it didn't fix things and it never became easier or felt less like a costume and at 27 I came back out and finally was able to transition. I've been on T since 2022, I just got top surgery in January of this year. I'm 30 and I finally feel like my body is a home, like it's genuinely part of me and not something that I'm forced to inhabit. not just a discarded shell I found that doesn't quite fit.

so idk. don't give up on yourself. and if you already did give up and turn around, know that there is never a point that's too late to turn back towards happiness and try again. don't die not knowing and all that.

[razor-tits]

A very long and over due life update.

So, to start this off I guess I need to back up. Let's start in October. It feels like yesterday but also a lifetime ago. Things were...ok I'd say. Boring, routine, the only shake up was my hormones ran out and my job was changing our insurance, so I had to cancel my follow up appointment for bloodwork and a refill. But then I got some bad news from my parents.

My dad had a heart attack and was in the hospital. He was ok, but he needed surgery. First they thought just a stent, but then decided he needed a triple bypass. I have a pretty good relationship with my parents, but we're kind of distant. I live a few hours away and only see them around the holidays but we talk on the phone weekly. My dad can lean a little on the conservative side but both of them are the absolute salt of the earth. They're done so much to help me and I felt powerless to be able to help. I couldn't leave work and felt like there was nothing I could do.

The next couple weeks were rough, my dad was staying in the hospital, my mom was going back and forth staying with him and taking care of my grandma, who is in her late 80's and has a litany of health issues. On a Friday I finally managed to make the drive home and spend the weekend there. Seeing my dad laid up in a hospital gown tied to machines is something i'll never forget. He could get up and move and acted like he was ok. But he's one of those guys you meet and you think he's invincible. The kind of guy that put a new roof on our house with a broken finger and can't turn away a stray animal at the door. Some family members I hadn't seen in a long time came and went over the weekend. Thoughts of our own mortality set in and I realize this could be the last time I see any of them.

I've lost people before. Some of them suddenly and unexpectedly. Others who's death was almost a sigh of relief after fighting for so long. I never got to say goodbye when my friend died and I hope he knows how much he meant to me. I don't want to feel that again, ever.

The day of surgery came. He was in the OR for 3 hours but it felt like an eternity and a second at the same time. A few hours after that my mom and I were able to see him. He was extubated already, which was a good sign. But he was on heavy medication, incoherent, coming in and out of sleep. But he knew I was there and that's all that mattered.

I had to leave and make my way back to my parents to get my dog, and then make the 2 hour drive back to Ohio and go back to work in the morning. At this point I knew my dad would be ok, he just had to get through recovery. But now thoughts of my own health were worrying me. I'm not in the best shape, I don't exercise or work out. I've already had surgery to fix stomach problems. Everyone on my dad's side has heart problems, and everyone on my mom's side has cancer and diabetes. There's not much I do to prevent any of that. I'm in my 30's and I feel it, maybe more than I should.

Over the next couple months my mental health continues to fall. I had a birthday and spent it sick, as I always seem to do. It's always a rough time of year for me. Seasonal depression kicks in, I get older, and another year passes. My dog, my best friend, the reason I kept myself alive, is getting old. I see it more and more every day and it breaks my heart.

The holidays came and went. I saw my grandma for the first time in a few years. Always wondering if it will be the last. Despite that, this year I never felt less in the holiday spirit. I used to love this time of year, now I desperately try to enjoy it, but part of me just wants it to be over. The best part seems to be a few days off work.

At this point it should be noted I have not restarted hormones. My identity has always been more in flux than i've let on, and maybe that needs to be it's own post, but I don't know if I want to start again or not. I don't know what I want, I don't know what my goals are. I don't know who i am. Beyond basic hygiene, I really don't even feel like taking care of myself most days. I pretty much always feel melancholic. I'm not angry, I don't get excited, I don't have much joy. My sex drive is non existent and I have no desire to do...well, anything.

New year's comes and I honestly couldn't care. It feels like another day. My gf and I go out and have an Ok time. I'm just so tired all the time it's hard for me to go out and enjoy myself like I used to.

And then, a couple days ago my landlord calls. We have to move out. Not sure when, but probably soon. I'm heartbroken and panicking over it. We absolutely love our house. We've only been here about a year and a half but it's been wonderful. It has plenty of room, privacy, it's quiet. We can leave our doors unlocked and packages aren't stolen off our porch. We're allowed both of our dogs and all 3 of our cats with no issues. We've invested so much time and money here. My gf is close with the owners and their children, who were the previous tenants. We even thought about trying to buy this house off of them when their other kid moves out of the downstairs apartment. And it's affordable. Anything else like what we have now will cost double and we can't afford that.

Our last apartment was tiny, cramped, dark and ran by an awful property investment company. And now we have to deal with that again. If we can even find a place where we can take 5 animals. We can hide 2 of the cats, but not all of them. We're in no position to buy nor do we have the time to go through the process. My gf said we may have to find 2 different apartments and live separately for a while. Just the thought of that brings me to tears. I can't live without her, I can't live without our pets. We're a family. I don't know what to do.

Since I got the phone call I've done nothing but panic, contact rental agencies and weigh my options. None of them are good. Best case scenario is we move in a smaller, worse place, paying more rent.

Nothing is going right for me. I know this isn't insurmountable and nothing that people haven't gone through before. But...god damn I need a break and I can't get one.

[ashleyisgenderconfused]

Day 2 Updates!

So, it's been 2 days since my first shot, 2 days since I started Spiro. I thought writing about my experiences in the order they happen would be a good idea. Not only for me to look back on in the future, but to potentially help any un-cracked eggs, or anyone else just starting their journey. As anyone talking about changes, these are my experiences and everybody and every body is different, so your mileage may vary. This post is 18+ as it will be mentioning genitalia and sexual drive. Just giving that heads up.

The first thing I've noticed is the consistent mental clarity. After discovering who I am, but before my first dose, I would have long moments of mental clarity, feeling as though I truly exist and present in the world. This would eventually fade as the day went on and more crap piled onto me. However, over the past couple of days, the mental clarity has been very consistent until I got super hangry, but more on that later.

With the mental clarity, I'm already having an easier time noticing my emotions. In the before time, I was really only depressed or angry with some fleeting happiness. Now I'm just rather content or happy, with irritation and anger noticeable, but nowhere NEAR as all encompassing as it used to be.

Now, we get to the hunger. Yesterday while I work, I had lunch. Then about an hour or so later, I felt as though I hadn't eaten anything. Before getting home, I ate 2 more sandwiches. When I got home, I had a normal serving of dinner, then a pack of 10 sushi from the grocery store and a couple more snacks before finally going to bed. Until I ate my sushi, I was HANGRY. I was irritable and could only think about what I'm going to eat next. And I can already feel this starting to happen again and it's not even time for lunch!

The final thing I've noticed is I'm already producing far less mucus than I normally would. Especially during allergy season, I would regularly need to clear phlegm from my throat with the most disgusting sounds you've heard multiple times a day. And it only recently came to my attention, that I've hardly felt the need to over the past 24 hours.

Now on to the 18+ stuff, so if you're under 18 and have read up to this point, you're excused.

AHEM, my balls have already started to shrink some. The skin tends to be more wrinkled now and they don't hang nearly as low as they did. And while my penis seems to be about the same length hard, it's gotten slightly smaller while flaccid. I was hoping to get bottom surgery one day, so I guess we'll see in a couple years where it's at!

My sex drive has also changed somewhat. It seems to be easier to control, though this could be more of the fact I have a more appropriate level of dopamine buzzing around my brain. But beyond that, I feel I need to think a little bit more to get myself excited, and I've noticed some music helps with that process more than it did before my first dose.

But that's all my changes for two days! Not much, but I'm feeling incredible and I'm SO excited to see what the coming days have in store! And I'm POSITIVE I'll be updating more as I notice changes. As I said, at the beginning, I'd love to look back on this for myself one day. And maybe all of the embarrassing and possibly even gross moments might help others realize that this is a long process and that if something feels bad, it won't last forever!

[day6source]

hello my loves!!!! long time no talk!!!!! 💕💕🫶🏻🫶🏻 things have been very crazy and insane lately, between doctors appointments for me, a pending surgery for my step-dad, taking care of my niece, and everything else in between. but!! the long awaited day6 comeback is finally upon us in two hours!!! some of you might know i got into day6 right around the time 'right through me' and eternal dropped, and i was so excited! and then...they all immediately enlisted lmao. as i described to a friend the other day, i felt like i was led into a looney tunes style trap discovering them. having to wait out that time was awful, but we slowly got them all back and now! we're finally here! if you were around for 'letters with notes' i'll be pretty vigilant in getting everything posted (mostly) on time, first few days is always kind of insane, but it should all be up in a decently timely manner! i am making a change in regards to video call stuff, mostly in that if it's not available in a global sense, i probably won't post about it, mostly because they can be kinda finicky in regards to even applying, and i don't want to lead you guys into a false sense of excitement. if they are though, don't worry! i got you! gonna keep the masterpost updated as well, performances, promo, etc. also! guys!

what!!! that is insane!! within the coming weeks i'm gonna see about if there's going to be any more mmt events like before, and maybe do another little giveaway! especially because the one year anniversary of the blog is in about a month or so? ah!! i always say this, but i love getting to share things with you guys and read everyone's tags and see everyone's reactions, it's such a cool experience, and i'm glad everyone here is just so cool.mp3. i love you guys so much, you truly have no idea how much fun i have doing this, it means the world to me. on that note...i think that's it! if you wanna hit me up to talk about whatever, changed my url a while ago to @briankang, and! if you'd like to take part in the day6revival week from last week...well you still can and i'll still reblog things especially since i fell a little behind as well, just tag it with #day6revival, and make sure to check out everyone else's amazing creations as well! we're celebrating all through promotions as a huge welcome home to our silly, goofy, sweet band boys. the ask box is always open here of course too, and you know i always love hearing from you all. i'm going to enjoy my last few hours of peace before comeback, but i hope you've all been staying happy and healthy and you continue to, and if you haven't, i hope this new album brings you some kind of peace for the spring. spring is all about new starts, so if you've been feeling out of sorts, it's a great chance to wipe fresh and start anew. i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, tay 💕💕💕💕🍀🍀🍀🍀

[fly-sky-high-arts]

Update regarding simple HK commissions or commissions I general I guess ope

Because August was a very busy month for me and my family due to some kind of serious health complication my brother had and having to go through a surgery, I ended up taking a proper break post being sure that he is recovering well (which has been recently, you could guess by the recent character drawings I did).

We have been all taking it easy at home (even dad is on vacation) and spending some quality time so I'm having mixed time when using the PC and now the new tablet I got as an early birthday present from bro which is still kind of bonkers to me but I am still super grateful :)

That said I will most likely spend the rest of september with this and most likely october too. I will still try work on the adopts but I, admittedly, don't feel like coming back to commissions just yet and I am very sorry to the folks who have been interested. The subject of having to do commissions to earn anything has been a mixed emotional bag for months now but I tried to keep it within my interest and work this way. It clicked for the most part tho until I had to take a break. And now I'm here XD

I do plan to do HKtober illustrations this year and since I don't have intended effort I want to put into them I might work on more stuff during the prompt weeks

That's about it. I just need some time to have fun with my own stuff so I can recharge on creativity a bit, get a better grip with this new tablet etc. The summer is basically over (it's 11C out hAH! <3) and I am finally feeling a mental recharge as well (really, finally, finally...)

I'll see you all around!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

the truth about being transgender: my detransition story - jamie

This is a weird video for me to make, but it's something that I've spoken about on this channel before, and that is the fact that I used to believe - or I used to be - trans and since then I have the transitioned. This video is not intended to be transphobic, I'm just talking about my own experience and issues with the LGBT community.

I was very young when I started feeling issues with my body and my self-esteem. I was maybe eight or nine when I hit puberty, and it was around this time that my anxiety started, then I started feeling discomfort within myself. And when I got into high school, I fell in with an LGBT friend group.

In this friend group, everyone sort of aligned their identities so fully with their sexuality or their gender that I began to believe that this was normal, that it was normal to have your sort of only personality trait being your gender or your sexuality. And this was how a lot of them self-identified. I fully remember many of my friends saying, oh, my only personality trait is that I'm gay or whatever. And that was the way that I thought friendships, and that I thought people were supposed to be.

That we were in this righteous bubble, that defied societal conventions. And when I saw the idols that my friends looked up to - people like Elliot page or Hunter Schaefer - I would see posts from trans people that say essentially, I struggled with my body a lot when I was younger and then I finally realized that I was trans and I decided to fully transition - i.e. double mastectomy or bottom surgery - and then I finally felt happy.

And when you're young you don't really tend to assess the information that you take in. At least for me, when I saw that information, I thought to myself - not instantly but over time you come to think - okay well that is the solution solution to issues with your body and issues with your femininity. So I decided very very early in my life, I think as soon as I was 12 or 13, that the second I turned 16 or 18 or I had raised enough money, I would essentially run away from home and get a double mastectomy and go on testosterone, because I was non-binary, or I believed I was non-binary, and I did not feel comfortable in being feminine.

Now, my parents weren't even necessarily against trans people but the whole culture of LGBT teens is that you are in some ways misunderstood by your parents. Tthat's sort of the way that you perceive yourself to be, or how you perceive your relationship with your parents to be. Whether or not you know they're supportive or anti-trans. I know now that my parents love me no matter what, but still I would find reasons to resent them and to find excuses to isolate myself further and further from them. Probably because this is what my friends were also doing and what a lot of the people I admired went through too, like issues with their parents. Which is really sad looking back on it.

I'm very very skeptical of a movement that directly or indirectly - this is a very charged vocabulary, I don't intend it to be sort of criminalizing them - but I'm very skeptical of a movement that isolates children from their parents and makes them question their parenting and almost encourages them to step away, and to have a "found family" rather than cooperating with and trying to understand your already family.

And it's true too, that I had a terrible relationship with my parents and with the rest of my family when I identified as trans. It was very very easy to fall into the mindset of, no one understands me, I'm from a different generation, my issues are completely unique to me. But the truth is that when I spoke about it later on, after, with a few of the women in my family, they too have struggled with feeling feminine in their younger years. That doesn't necessarily mean that they're trans.

And this is one of the biggest issues that I have at the moment. I think it's posited as a solution, when really the solution is something else entirely, or rather a teaching of like self-acceptance, in a way.

No one ever explained to me that puberty would be a difficult time emotionally. I knew, of course that hormones were high and my body would change, but that was about it. No one ever told me that it's a strange feeling going from childhood to adulthood. And the difficulty of that does not point necessarily to your gender identity, it just points to your own discomfort and mental health.

I publicly identified as trans or non-binary for four years until I was, I think 15 or 16, and after which I made an Instagram post that said I'm not trans anymore, and then I deleted Instagram, and I sort of isolated myself for a very long time, because whether or not it was real, I sort of perceived the whole wide world to be against me. So I had sort of built myself into this little victim mindset where I thought that - because of course people didn't fully understand the fact that I was non-binary, a lot of people did not because we were 12 and 13 and this was a new thing - but I took that very very personally and I took that to mean that they were against me, when they probably weren't.

And so I assumed that the people who had been my friends when I was trans would stop being my friends after I stopped being trans. Which was true my LGBT friend group pretty much instantly disowned me, and I them to some extent, because I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that I did not want to be friends with people who I consider to be superficial. But that's another issue and not one that I'll talk about publicly.

The next couple of years after I publicly detransitioned were very very hard. It was really difficult to re-establish myself knowing that I had made such a huge mistake, and that was probably amplified by my own feelings of depression, social anxiety, and I don't think I ever fully reintegrated back into like high school society after that, because I found it really embarrassing. It was a difficult thing to have gone through so young and to base your whole identity around. And it's such a big thing that when you realize that you're no longer that thing, the people around you just turn essentially. They think that you've been lying to get attention, which I don't believe I was at the time. I think I was just heavily heavily misguided, and being so young I was so impressionable.

I read recently that it takes 14 times of being told something for a child to believe it, and so I suppose it could have just been that I was told so many times it's possible that you're trans, it's possible that you're trans, that eventually I started to believe it. And this is nothing against the LGBT community, but I know a lot of people with stories similar to mine, both personally and online. But no one really talks about them. No one really talks about the rising amount of young women who at some point consider themselves trans, either medically transitioned or didn't, and then came to regret it.

The only real time I've heard this discussed publicly or online was through a Joe Rogan podcast with Abigail Shrier who's also written a fantastic book that she basically says that, to some extent - and this is nothing against the transgender community - but to some extent, being transgender now is to depressed teenage girls what, say, anorexia was in the 90s, or drugs were in the 70s. It's what girls who have home problems, who have issues with their body, who have issues with their family, it's what they turn to as a solution for their Identity. Or not solution, but what they base their identity around.

To me, this is so convincing because I can see it now, how incredibly high the levels of transgender people are rising, particularly amongst young teenage girls. I mean it's unprecedented. It's a several thousand percent increase in the last 20-30 years, and you have to consider that some of that must be cultural, and some of that must be societal. I don't think it happens organically that such a huge percentage of young girls just wake up one day and realize that they're trans. I don't think that that's organic. I think that that is motivated in some way, whether they perceive it to be that way or not.

But the trouble with this is, despite the fact that I date women - not exclusively - I don't identify as being part of the LGBT community. Because to me the LGBT community, or the one that I have experienced, clings so much to its (political) beliefs and to its system and its agenda of sort of self-victimization, and attacking anyone who disagrees with this experience. This is true of a lot of detransitioners. I can't personally agree with it. I don't think it's right to attack anyone who doesn't agree with your specific dogma.

And this is in no way to an attack. If anything, it's me speaking about my own experience in, not officially, but rather leaving the LGBT community. And it's a difficult thing to talk about. I know that a lot of people will probably resent me for putting out this video, despite the fact that I've tried to stay as true to my own emotions and experiences as possible. But I do it with no malice in my heart. If anything I do out of empathy for other young girls who are like me, who see this as the new solution to their issues with themselves and their femininity.

Every day I am so so grateful that like my parents didn't have enough money for me to medically transition at 12 or 13, or that I didn't run away from home and decide to have a double mastectomy. Or even that it's difficult for young people in the UK to go through these treatments, that you have to wait so long. Because if I had not had to wait so long on the NHS, I would have regretted it so much.

In the past couple of years my femininity has brought me so so much and I never would have been able to experience that had I not de-transitioned and taken the time to really consider my own identity. And I know I'm not alone because I personally have at least five to ten friends that have all done this, to some greater or lesser extent. And I think the statistics mirror this too. It's something like a majority of people who transition are equally as depressed as they were before than they are after, and I think the percentage of suicide goes up very very highly five years and after medical transition for a large percentage of people. Which is interesting to me because it was always posited as a life-saving surgery to have top or bottom surgery. And I think it's such a huge decision to make without having been told the other side of it.

Things like testosterone. They tell you that it's not permanent, but it is. If you take a look at some of the public detransitioners who have been on testosterone, who have become infertile because of it - because that is an inevitable side effect of testosterone - who experience joint pains their whole life, chronic pain, fevers, anything like that. It's something that I wouldn't wish on anyone to look back and realize that they made a mistake. It's such a huge and irreversible mistake to make that, if anything I say can help people consider whether it makes them truly happy, then my goal is achieved.

All I really want is for people, young women especially, to, before they make any permanent decisions, take a long long look inwards. Heal your mental health first of all. That is the biggest thing I think, heal your mental health, and then consider if you still feel uncomfortable within your own sexuality or gender. Because for me, after I healed my mental health, I feel almost no inclination towards masculinity or androgyny. And I think that's the case for a lot of people who experience depression in their earlier years, but then change as they get older.

It's a terrible mistake to make, and one I hope that is made a lot less often. Obviously it's not a mistake for everyone, I'm not talking about everyone, I'm talking about the select few who are socially pushed or socially nudged into it. I'm so grateful every single day that I did not make any medical choices that would have affected me my whole life now. Because if I had had the choice when I was 12 or 13, I fully fully would have believed, yes I want to be infertile my whole life, just for this. And now having children is like my number one goal in life, it's my biggest goal, it's my dream now to have children. And it breaks my heart that that could have been taken away from me, if I had been encouraged just a little bit more by my parents or by the system or the NHS or anything like that.

But yeah, this video has no hate towards trans people. I just want everyone to consider my own perspective and my own experience as someone who has de-transitioned and having been on both sides og deep deep within the LGBT community, and then having left it, having stopped being depressed, having come to a lot more happiness in my life.

And yeah, again I only send love and hope and peace out to all of you, and I hope that you find peace within yourself if you're watching this video and yeah, love you, bye.

==

Very eloquent, thoughtful, insightful and self-aware from this young woman.

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #56 (part one)

Journal Entry #55 (part two) // STORY INDEX

Yuri

Hello everyone.

I feel like it's been forever since I've recorded an update, or since I've recorded a sensible one, at least.

I'm more than a little embarrassed that I ended up posting my last one. Sharing it hadn't been my original plan, and my only excuse is that I uploaded it in a moment of poor self-control. Maybe I just wanted someone to feel as sorry for me as I was feeling for myself, or perhaps I thought it'd make me feel better to scream into the proverbial void.

In any case, I'm sorry.

Am I feeling better? The answer to that is complicated.

I assume Victor has told you about my G-tube? Once I didn't have any more pain from the surgery and my incision began to heal, I really did start feeling better physically. I'm able to be up and around for several hours at a time on most days, and I'm getting some of my strength back.

I'm not supposed to do anything too strenuous until my incision is fully healed, but I can do light housekeeping tasks like dusting furniture, washing dishes, and folding laundry, and I can manage all my own personal care now. I can finally give my poor neglected skin and hair the attention they deserve, and as soon as I'm up to it, I'm going for the most expensive and luxurious spa day anyone could possibly imagine. Manicure, pedicure, therapeutic massage, aromatherapy bath, facial... everything. Victor's already teasing me about it, naturally, but I don't mind.

Once I came home from the hospital after my surgery, Victor and I both got used to our new routine in practically no time at all. I was worried that Victor would be upset and stressed by the whole thing, and perhaps he was for the first day or two, but he seemed to relax when he realized how well I was coping.

Honestly, I've surprised myself a little with that. In the hospital, the nurses taught both Victor and me everything about the use and care of my tube, and I think at that point we all assumed Victor would be helping me tend to it a majority of the time. But, as it happens, I've been doing it almost entirely on my own, and it's... liberating. Yes, that's definitely the word. It's empowering to take charge of something, even if it isn't particularly important to anyone but me.

Usually, I have my formula while Victor eats, so we still share mealtimes. I can still eat and drink the usual way, so we enjoy our tea together as well, and sometimes I'll even have a small bite of whatever Victor's having. He's not allowed to feed me any more, though. The rule is that if I want to taste some of his food, I have to feed myself.

That may have been the most difficult adjustment for both of us, actually. We were put to our first test only a couple of days after I got home, when Victor made himself a fruit salad to go with his sandwich at lunch.

If I had to pick a favourite food, strawberries and peaches would be tied for top spot, and I'll confess, it was the aroma of the freshly cut strawberries that got me. That, and watching Victor handle chopsticks with his non-dominant hand. He made it look so effortless, and I marvelled at how quickly he'd mastered using them with his right hand.

The only thing at the table more beautiful and appealing than those plump, red strawberries in my husband's fruit salad was my gorgeous, talented husband, and I couldn't take my eyes off either one.

"Maybe it's a good thing you're not eating," Victor commented. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at me, strawberry-laden chopsticks raised halfway to his mouth.

"What?" I stammered. "Why?"

"Because," he said. "You look so distracted, you'd probably drop half the stuff you tried to pick up."

"Oh. Sorry."

"You okay?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm just looking at your, ah... your strawberry."

Victor laughed out loud at that. "Mr. Okamoto-Nelson, are you trying to flirt with me?"

I could feel heat crawling up my neck and over my face. "Well, no. Not really. I'm literally looking at your strawberry. Could I... can I have it? Please?"

He flicked a glance down at the strawberry caught between his chopsticks, as if he was considering my request. Then he said, "Sure, you can have it," and reached across our tiny dining table toward me.

I started to lean forward out of habit, imagining he'd just pop the piece of fruit into my mouth. And then I remembered.

Victor must've realized at exactly the same time I did, because he abruptly drew his hand back. He dropped the strawberry onto the now-empty plate his sandwich had been on, and slid it across the table toward me with a murmur of, "Sorry."

The moment was jarring, and I almost changed my mind about eating the sweet fruit, but then I told myself that it wouldn't be polite to reject it after I specifically asked for it. I lifted my own chopsticks, thankful that Victor had the foresight to set out a pair for me, and plucked up the strawberry.

"You can do it," Victor said, his voice soft, as if I were engaged in some sort of contest and he didn't want to break my concentration.

I put the strawberry in my mouth, and I think I might've been close to tears with how intense the flavour was. I'm not sure why, but maybe it had something to do with not having performed the physical act of eating for well over a week. Without meaning to, I made a sound that was... Suffice it to say, it was the sort of sound Victor typically hears from me in a room other than the kitchen.

Victor was gazing at me with interest. "Okay, then. I guess you really were looking at my strawberry."

"Mm-hmm."

He pitched his voice low, and in a tone far too seductive for lunchtime on a Wednesday, asked, "Did you like it? Wanna do it again?"

I lost it, and my laughter must've been contagious because for the next minute or so, Victor and I could barely catch our breaths. My stomach was hurting by the time we both calmed down, but despite that, I felt good. Better than I'd felt in weeks, in fact. And I did eat another strawberry, which earned me a kiss from my husband who tasted slightly of strawberries too.

And before you ask, yes. 'Looking at one's strawberry' is now a playful inside joke between Victor and me, a euphemism for something entirely unrelated to fresh fruit.

Since then, I've eaten other foods, but for the most part I'm happier just to have my formula. The goal is for me to be able to eat normally and independently without the tube in the near future, but we're going to work up to that. For now, I only have to put food in my mouth when I'm comfortable doing so, which admittedly, isn't all that often. Honestly, it's been a huge relief not to have to worry about eating. It's taken an enormous load off me psychologically, which allows me to focus on other things.

There are plenty of other things to focus on. As relieved as I am not to have to struggle with food for the time being, my tube isn't a miracle cure for all my problems. There are still times when I don't want to do anything at all, even though I know I'm capable of it, and I still go to bed some nights vaguely hoping it'll be the last time.

When I feel that way, I tell Victor about it, and he does his best to reassure me. I didn’t want to talk about it with him at first, didn’t want to burden him, but I remembered what Mama had told me about keeping secrets. “A marriage can’t survive too many secrets,” she’d said, and I decided I needed to do my part to protect the bond Victor and I share, even if what I had to do would be hard.

It’s still not easy for me to open up about some subjects, but it’s getting somewhat less difficult with time and practice. I don’t think I could do it at all with anybody but Victor. He knows me better than anyone, and I trust him.

Oh… and since we’re on the subject of trust and sharing confidential information, I should probably finish telling you about my nutrition rehabilitation therapy, shouldn't I? In addition to working with the nutritionist and Dr. Kasongo, I've started seeing a psychologist, and believe me when I say that component of my therapy is not my idea of a good time.

There's no sense in mincing words; I hate it, and I don't think it's doing much good. Victor would likely say I need to give it a chance, considering that I've only been to two sessions with the psychologist so far, but I'm not certain I really want to.

As Victor might say, I'm not going to lie. I don't like the psychologist. He makes me uncomfortable and reminds me vaguely of my high school physical education teacher. That teacher was the sort of person who'd laugh and make fun of a student for not being able to catch a ball or for always finishing last in races instead of encouraging them and showing them how they could do better.

The psychologist gives off that same energy. I'm afraid to tell him my deepest thoughts. I don't trust him and I don't want to be judged by him for my anxiety and fear of something as inherent to life as eating. I'm not sure he'd even understand it anyway. Very few people do, but at least some try to, and those are the people I'd rather allow into my private life.

But, regardless of my feelings about the psychologist, I've resolved to keep seeing him because Victor really wants me to, and I don't want to disappoint him. It'll only be for a couple of months anyway, just until our move. I'm sure I can endure an hour a week with the man till then, and perhaps once Victor and I are settled in Willow Creek, I'll be able to find someone I actually like and who I might be able to build some trust with. I mean, I do understand the point of psychological therapy, and I might be willing to work at it if I thought I was being supported by someone who cares about my well-being.

If I could pick my ideal therapist, it wouldn't be a man. I'd choose a woman, preferably someone around my mother's age, and perhaps with a soft voice like hers as well. She'd be someone I could feel safe with, and who I might eventually start thinking of as an honorary auntie, if that makes sense. I don't think that's too high an expectation, do you?

But, enough about that. Besides my ongoing health issues, a lot has happened since the last time I was able to record a journal entry, and I'm not even sure where to start describing it all. I know Victor has been keeping our journal up-to-date, so perhaps I'll just hit the high points of what's been going on since his last entry.

I suppose the most significant bit of news is that Victor and I are officially uncles. Our nephew Kinai was born a week ago, on the fourteenth of March. He entered the world eight days past his due date, for anyone who cares about that sort of thing, and according to my mother, he's a very big newborn at 4.1 kilograms. Apparently, that's nearly three times as big as me when I was born. Mama says I was only 1.4 kilograms, which probably isn't all that surprising, considering I arrived dangerously early. She used words like 'solid' and 'thriving' to describe Kinai, which I'm sure are descriptors that never would've been applied to me during my first days of life. I was probably 'fragile' and 'high-risk'.

Personally, I couldn't care less how much Kinai weighs, how chunky he is, or whether he's got Hana's nose or Ren's ears. My plan is to stay as uninvolved as possible. If you want the truth, I'm quite literally repulsed by anything that has to do with my sister Hana and her deplorable boyfriend Ren, and although I know it's not Kinai's fault that he has monsters for parents, I really don't have any interest in interacting with him in any case.

Victor knows how I feel, but we only talked about it once because I don't think it'd be very nice of me to keep bringing it up and dampening his enthusiasm. He's thrilled about being an uncle, and I love seeing how excited and happy he is. I don't want to take that joy away from him.

Victor has already been to my parents' house to meet Kinai, and I think he fell in love with him at first sight. My parents are absolutely smitten with their grandson too, and I'm sure I don't have to tell you how Auntie Yuki is taking the situation. She's positively over the moon.

As for Hana, she was quick to flee as soon as she got out of the hospital. Initially, we thought she might try to cause trouble over Mama and Papa's intention to seek an order for custody of Kinai, but she shocked us all when she said it didn't matter to her who took him, as long as she didn't have to deal with it. Our parents had already engaged a lawyer, and she was able to draw up some sort of document for Hana and Ren to sign that effectively stated they relinquished all custodial rights to Kinai. I don't think Mama and Papa even needed to go to court at all.

According to Yuki, our resident source of family gossip, Ren's parents didn't object to our parents getting custody of Kinai. I figured it was because the judge and his wife are quite a bit older than Mama and Papa and they didn't want to take on the responsibility of raising another child at this point in their lives, but Yuki had a completely different theory.

"Know what I think, Yuri?" she asked. There was a conspiratorial little gleam in her eyes that can only be produced by a precocious ten and a half year old who thinks she's more clever than most of the adults around her.

Our parents had dropped Yuki off earlier that day, to have dinner and spend the night at our place. She was standing on a step-stool at the counter, watching me prepare my formula, while Victor was at the other side of our small kitchen cutting up chicken and vegetables to make stir-fry for her and himself.

"What do you think?" I responded.

"I think Ren's parents didn't want Kinai because they don't really believe he's their grandson," she said.

That was an angle that hadn't occurred to me. It obviously hadn't occurred to Victor either, because he set his knife down and turned in our direction. "What makes you think that, Yuki-chan?" he asked.

"Because," Yuki said. "I overheard Papa talking to Ren's father about a DNA test. I watch television. I know what DNA tests are for. And I know for sure it was Ren's father Papa was taking to because he called him by name."

"So, you think your dad wants Ren and Kinai to have a DNA test to prove whether they're related or not?" Victor said. "You think Judge Kitagawa's gonna go for that?"

"I think it was the judge's idea," said Yuki. "I think he wants to make Ren do it."

"Talk about legal drama," Victor said.

I don't think there'll be much legal drama on that front. If the judge is serious about wanting to prove Kinai's paternity, Ren isn't going to have much say in the matter. I'm not closely acquainted with Nori Kitagawa, but I do know him well enough to say with confidence that I wouldn't dare to disobey an order from him. Ren may be thuggish and stupid, but even he isn't dumb enough to contradict the judge when he means business. Plus, Ren can't run or hide from him now.

If anyone were to ask me, I think the real legal battle might come from that American couple with whom Hana and Ren had been trying to arrange the so-called private adoption. Yes, the people who wanted to name the baby Arrow. I'm sure Victor has told you all about that. Of course, it's just speculation on my part. I have no idea how the American family might react. We'll have to wait and see.

I may not know anything for certain about my parents' potential legal troubles, but something I can tell you about is the tangled mess Hana is in. The judge was not inclined to be dismissive when it came to the theft of his vehicle and credit cards and his wife's expensive jewellery, nor was Uncle Kaz well pleased about Hana breaking into the home Victor and I have been renting from him. It's no secret that Mama and Papa are making her take full responsibility for her actions, and that they aren't going to try to pull any strings on her behalf. We all know that taking responsibility isn't something Hana excels at, and I think she ran because she's ashamed to face any of them.

Currently, none of us knows where she is. It's safe to assume she hasn't left Japan because the police still have her passport, as far as I know, but she's definitely not anywhere in the town of Mt. Komorebi. She's got a handful of serious criminal charges against her now, and my guess is that she's with friends in Kyoto, probably trying to concoct some sort of scheme to get out of the legal nightmare she's created for herself.

Before I move on from the judicial updates, there's even more news that I'd be remiss if I didn't mention. We may not know Hana's whereabouts, but I'm able to say with satisfaction that we know where Ren Kitagawa is. He is in jail, which in my opinion is exactly where he belongs.

Ren's trial for assaulting Victor at the fitness centre was supposed to have started on the twenty-eighth of February, but due to Victor's accident and our concerns that he wouldn't be well enough to go to court and testify by then, the court agreed to push the trial date forward until the first week of May. We agreed because we really didn't have much choice, but that date gave Victor and me just as much anxiety as the February one did. We're leaving the country on the fifteenth of May and we were worried that any further complications in the process would interfere with our move.

In the end, fortune must've been on our side. The very day in February that the trial was originally scheduled to begin, Victor received a phone call from someone at the office of Kensatsu-chō — the public prosecution service — who told him that Ren had decided to change his plea to guilty. They explained that the matter would proceed directly to sentencing, which was scheduled for the tenth of March, and they asked if Victor and I wanted to be there. Victor told them no. Neither of us had any desire to make a trip to the district court in Kyoto for that.

We found out later that Ren was sentenced to eighteen months' imprisonment. Papa speculated that he probably won't serve the entire time in a jail cell, but that he'll be let out about a third of the way through and then spend the rest of the time on supervised release. From what I understand, that's basically house arrest. At this point, though, I don't even care. Victor and I will be long gone before he gets out, and we'll be far enough away that he'll never be able to hurt either of us again.

I thought I'd have a completely different set of emotions upon learning that Ren is locked up and being punished for what he did. I imagined I'd feel vindicated, that I'd be happy and excited and in a mood to celebrate, but that's not how it was at all. The moment we hung up from that phone call, I just clung to Victor and cried because I was so relieved.

All I remember about the following few minutes was Victor holding me as tightly as he could with his one good arm and murmuring into my hair, "It's all right, Yuri. The worst is over. We're going to be okay."

I might not have been able to believe that before, but each day I'm finding myself a little more hopeful that the worst really is over. I don't expect my life to be perfect, or even what most people would call normal, but I'll happily settle for being okay.

[jinnie-study]

2024.03.05 - march and all the things before it

one day, after everything is through, i'll turn around and still have you.

excuse my messy desk, it just felt like it added to the photos of where i'm at mentally.

first year of med school has been a whirlwind of amazing new things and also a bit of a disaster. here's a list of updates in no particular order of just everything that comes to mind since i started school:

i had my first course failure ever (like.... ever.) and it's taken a huge toll on my psyche. i have to remediate it in the summer and it sucks because i wanted to do other things and i have to just sit with this feeling of having failed something big time for the next two months until then.

before that, though, i got thru first semester for the most part unscathed. a few bumps and bruises but nothing crazy.

im a part of student government and had a major success in getting rid of a really awful lecture that people have been trying to get changed or removed for at least the last three years.

i got to visit my partner abroad for christmas! it was wonderful and i miss them so much. it makes it that much harder to be down here i think.

i have gone to the beach and stared at the ocean a few times and it helps but i don't do it often.

back in august, i had a major back injury that limited my mobility almost completely for two days. since then, it's been on and off pain for months and i finally started going to PT. hopefully we can make the pain go away because apparently it has already made my left leg decently weaker than my right leg 💀

my cat had a really bad cancer scare back in september and he's only now beginning to recover. i love him so much and we had come to terms with not putting him thru surgery to remove the tumor and just wanted to keep him comfortable and at home. my mom fed him holy water and he's managed to get better. ❤️‍🩹

i've forcing myself to get back into journaling and reading because i need hobbies that are off-screen and i'm limited from exercising until my back is a little better.

i bought noise-canceling headphones (pictured above) and they've changed my life tbh. i don't know how i managed before.

i didnt used to burn candles but now they help me turn my brain into focusing mode and it's changed my relationship with stress and studying.

i went on a random mini vacation with my family to nintendo world in february and i think i healed a part of me that i didn't know needed healing.

i think that's all the biggest updates i have to share. i've been documenting med school and life more often on my private twitter account but it feels more important to me to make sure i get it here in this blog. i want to be more consistent with posting here again! i might add it to my to-do lists when i update newsletters and socmed. but i also like this blog just being a space for me to be without a lot of pressure to keep up with it. idk. thank u for being here! for reading and for sticking with me 🫡 till next post

[quicksilverlightning]

MEDICAL TALK - WHERE THE HELL HAVE I BEEN?

(General all-around warning for talk of health and hospitals; I don't believe I've included anything too gruesome, but I am pretty plain-spoken below about what's been going on. )

You may remember the last post regarding my health, so here's both a sequel and a prequel as certain things have been cast into a different light.

About two-ish months before the colitis/mono double K.O. back in February, I got a UTI for the first time. There was some abdominal pain and I definitely recall bringing it up to my PCP, though ultimately let it go for not being all that big a deal. It is my suspicion that every thing actually began here instead of at the next round of happenings.

Next round of course being February - there were definitely two different illnesses being dealt with and the symptoms sort of fed on each other to keep me knocked out a solid two weeks; colitis made nauseous and unwilling to eat, while mono simply made me too tired to care. Thay said, the treatment plan I eventually landed upon did take care of things; beyond some residual symptoms, which were honestly expected, I thought it was going well.

I had a genuinely lovely April weekend - went to some local markets, hit a few stores I hadn't been to in a while, took the boys out a bit. When I first felt the same symptoms in the same place while kicking back thay Sunday evening, I was more annoyed that anything.

Really? This again?

I got in with my PCP that Tuesday, got the same meds again, albeit with a much less powerful pain pill, and went home, confident this would just be another go round.

While Mom and Mimi were worried about how much longer it was taking to get better, I was quick to remember that my first go with this was while on hydrocodone; it made sense to me that perhaps the first time wasn't faster, just better masked.

Meanwhile, my PCP was attempting to contact a gastro specialist. I do not know why this took so extraordinarily long, nor how I came to be involved in the game of phone tag, but there it is. The pain had been steadily moving from my left side, where it has always been, and seemed to be gathering in my abdomen instead.

I finally got to see a specialist, though her advice to go to the ER had nothing to do with any gastro trouble and more to do with me showing signs of afib (160!) and dehydration. Oddly enough, at no point did I notice my heart beat was that crazy, even after being directly told.

Anyway, the ER gets me fast tracked to the back to start dumping all the fluid ever into me and get my heart rate down. They can't even look at whatever's going on in my abdomen until they get me stabilized; sometime around 2am I got an actual room, which was nice.

Next up, I get a go in the CT scanner where they find a large abcess. Yes, I know, gross. My abdomen is badly swollen (I believe I heard 18cm) and needs to be drained so they can get a better look at what's going on in there, like trying to assess flood damage - you gotta drain the water first. Luckily, it's all between my skin and not in any of my organs, which would be an entirely different battle.

As of now, I've been in the hospital for about three days and will likely be here another three more, depending on what the eventual next scan finds. It's currently up in the air as to whether I'm going to need surgery or not.

The running theory is that the infection in my intestines passed through a fistula caused by the inflammation where it began doing damage there instead. Right now, all anyone can do is play the waiting game as the fluid drains away.

So, that's where I am right now; I'm simply too tired for any fandom nonsense and even if I weren't, I've been completely thrown off my rhythm and out of my headspace. I do not know when, or even if, I will ever get back to any of it. I want to certainly, but won't be making promises that may be out of my ability to keep. I have no idea how long I'm going to be in the hospital, or what sort of recovery process I'm looking at after, but I doubt I'll be going upstairs anytime soon.

[sunset-a-story]

I have so many nice messages and asks--thank you for that! they've been such bright moments to see those pop up and I'm going to finally get back to today as a treat because, y'all, the last couple of days have been a lot fighting to get my brother-in-law proper care. I just need to have a rant post. (cw: mental health, American healthcare bullshit, threats of harm/SI)

We spent the last few days trying to get several hospitals to take us seriously to take care of my BiL. He's presenting as psychotic and two hospitals dismissed it as mental health and sent him away. He has NEVER behaved this way. One hospital kept him because he was threatening to harm himself and others. They held him for 12 hours and then discharged him because the doctor said he'd been calm since her shift started: from 3am to 6am. I'm also pretty calm at 3am. wtf. This is a man who used to work hazmat for the us military, combat vet, he works at ROTC, he took on parenting his best friend's children when needed. He's goofy but he's competent. They discharged him despite him not being able to identify numbers or colors. when asked what season it was he said, "Monday." He was babbling nonsense, banging on things with nothing behind his eyes, and couldn't keep his tongue in his mouth. He wasn't the man I know. He was like a toddler. And he was dangerous. Tricking him into getting into the car and driving with him in the car 45min to get him across the border to another state with a better hospital system was terrifying. If he had an episode, we could have crashed. I had pepper spray in my pocket the whole ride. Here's the thing. He had spinal surgery 11 days ago during which there was a spinal fluid leak that the surgeons couldn't find to close. He went back to the hospital with headaches 3 times and they kept sending him home saying it would resolve on its own.

But when he presented to hospitals like this, no one would listen to us begging them to CT his brain, check intracranial pressure, or check for infection. We were brushed off.

Once we got to a neighboring state, between me not backing down and my husband throwing his mental health care license around in a way that made him super uncomfortable, they finally looked for a medical cause. (Mental health IS medical but the ERs don't treat it that way.) He's now being treated for what they believe is an infection that spread to his brain. But we spent 12 hours yesterday trying to keep calm even when he didn't know who we were and then listening to him scream and fight when we couldn't. My husband was a hero. There's so much more but I'm tired. We're exhausted, physically and emotionally. We're still worried sick, waiting to hear if the antibiotics are helping. I'm furious with the medical system. I just hope he will be okay and recover to someone I've known for 20 years.

So thanks for listening to me rant and for all the lovely unrelated messages. I'm so excited to answer things and get my mind off of this for a little while.

[unclevladscorner]

Six months Post Top Surgery

It's officially been six months since my top surgery!

I was actually on the fence about top surgery for a long time and I finally committed and had surgery this past March.

The Good: I've been healing well without any complications or infections. Recovery was never very painful, and I was able to go back to work on time. I am a lot happier since I have a chest I actually like, and I've seen a HUGE reduction in dysphoric feelings about my body.

The reduction in dysphoria was actually unexpected. I originally committed to top surgery for purely cosmetic reasons.

The Ugly*- I'm not totally happy with how my nipples look and I'm still carrying some debt from the surgery.

Overall, I have no regrets. I'm still 100% happier after having my chest reconstructed than I was before the procedure. I'll share some images and more details under the cut-

All things said and done, I think everything turned out really well. I opted for a more expensive surgeon and a different type of gender affirming chest masculinization to preserve my nipple sensation.

I got buttonhole, which is the successor to T- anchor. You can read about it here-

So far, so good. Sensation is still returning in my chest, and my right nipple has the same level of sensation as the skin around it. It can take a year or more to regain any erogenous sensation in my nipples, though.

The left one has been a slow healer from the beginning. Slower to lose it's scab, slower to fully heal over, and it's been slower to regain sensation.

Both kind of look like they are 'melting' off my chest because of the big light spots around them and in the healing areola.

Scarring so far is actually really minimal, as you can see. No big dog ears at the sides, either. I had a lateral chest lift included to prevent dog earing.

My biggest scar is on my right side.

I suspect the skin became separated really early into the healing process when I lifted my arm too high over my head, or pulled on something the several days right after surgery. Thankfully the wound did not reopen or anything like that, but my right side was very sore while healing.

Even with my mild dissatisfaction in how my nipples look, I am still really happy with the results overall. I legit did not realize how much having top surgery would improve my overall quality of life.

The relief was almost immediate. It makes me really happy to see a much more masculine chest on my own body. My chest had lost a lot of mass over the last eight years and it was really saggy and unattractive. The change has really positively reinforced how much I feel at home in my own skin.

Working out has been easier, too. I'm at a point now where I can work out regularly, and I am much more comfortable doing so. I won't see any big muscle gains for a bit, but I'm looking forward to redefining my chest further through regular exercise.

For anyone out there on the fence, ow who's scared of getting gender affirming surgery-

-Research is key. What you want and how you want to look is the most important thing to consider. You want to pick someone who is both reputable and will do work you are happy with. It took me two years to pick a surgeon. Look at before and after photos, listen to former patients. There are more variety in what you can get and how the results look than in the past, too.

-Your reason for surgery doesn't have to be deep. I decided to get top surgery for purely cosmetic reasons. The rest has been a bonus.

-Start saving! Save some money now, and Future You will have an easier time doing what you need to do later. It's much easier to meet a small gap in funds through crowdfunding or loans. It can also help build a healthy financial habit you'll keep the rest of your life. Even if you don't know what you might want or need later, having money in the bank will make that possible. It doesn't have to be a lot, even $10-$20 a month will get you started and build the habit.

No matter what, remember that your happiness and comfort is more important than anything. Get joy where you can, and take care of yourself!