#hormone therapy. u get me

[stretchydyke]

having thoughts about trans sabo again....

[mejomonster]

Being on dating apps makes me wanna tear off my skin

[peppermintbutch]

Finished the thesis thing 😌👍

[ghoulphile]

no use cryin' over spilled milk | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.8 k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, frottage, lactation kink, pregnant!reader, fingerfucking, praise kink, breast play, the ghoul calls reader pretty mama, he's a pervert who wants to lend a 'helping' hand ➥ summary | based off this ask; oops being an experiment from vault 4 where you may be the first rad resistant human pregnant with a possibly rad resistant baby, and you come across the ghoul who helps you get to a safe place but then he gets attached with you and the baby 🥺 (this is just me trying to insert a lactation kink somewhere i'm sorry) ➥ notes | uhhhh pls let me know if i missed anything, my brain is dribbling out my ears (its 3:44 am and i have work at 8 am rip) but the parasites persist. i'll do the tag list when i wake up ❤️ masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Going topside wasn’t an easy decision.

In fact, bile bitter regret often lingers in the back of your throat - a lump that stifled the air in your lungs.

And while you might’ve been bioengineered to survive better under these harsh wasteland conditions, every time you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, you're catapulted headlong into paralyzing self doubt; alone and rudderless.

No one lives in the vaults - not truly.

Birdie (and the others) warned you of what awaited beyond those lead-lined walls. But you couldn’t abide spending the rest of your life trapped in a cage, albeit a gilded one.

Not anymore.

Oh no, you wanted to feel a real breeze instead of air pumped through the HVAC. Experience the sun baking warm into your skin like fresh bread instead of the artificial heat of the UV lamp used for mandatory light therapy sessions. Complain about the chafe of sand in your shoes and hear the crunch of dirt under foot instead of a hollow clunk of sterile metal.

To witness first hand all the sights, sounds, and smells this world offers. 

Only… you didn’t expect it to be this hard.

Nor did you expect to be pregnant when setting off into the great unknown on your own (a definite oversight on your part [you really shouldn’t have had one last hurrah before hitting the road]).

Through trial and error, motion sicknesses that swing into crippling nausea as manic energy - your first taste of true freedom! - dwindled into dragging fatigue, you found a happy medium. None of which would have been possible had it not been for the most unlikely of companions.

Ghouls; who knew, huh?

Sure, you’d heard of them from the rotating door of visitors that found themselves at Vault 4, but you’d never seen them. While you grew up surrounded by visible mutations, seeing the battlefield of his body was off putting; how a person could survive a patina of burns and patchwork slices without unraveling at the seams was beyond you.

And kind of frightening.

But he took it in stride, introducing himself as Ghoul. Refused to divulge anything else of substance no matter how much you poked and prodded.  His life pre-bomb was a complete mystery filled with plot holes and unanswered questions (which is exactly what he preferred).

You learned to be comfortable with his meandering conversations, and all the words he spoke that said much of nothing. And what you did glean, you did so through observation alone. 

He was alone - had been for a very long time.

He was very old - one of the last of his kind.

And he was, in his own way, very kind - at least by wasteland standards.

“The fuck you doin’?”

Pausing, you stop mid push and hover awkwardly on your hands and knees. The vault suit pulls taut across your hips, pinching behind your knees uncomfortably. Your toes squeak in your shoes, socks thoroughly soaked through with sweat.

It’s been unseasonably hot (or it’s the hormones). Whatever the case, this is the first semi-decent lodging you’ve camped in for weeks, and you’re not about to miss an opportunity to freshen up.

And maybe find a way to soothe the building ache in your tits - flesh swollen tender and nipples rubbed raw.

“I’m just, uh, gonna,” you motion towards the back of the house, the askew bathroom door clinging to its hinges by a corner, “y’know, f-freshen up. See if they don’t still have some water.”

The Ghoul scans you up and down, gimlet-eyed. “S’that so?”

You huff, your knees starting to ache.

Being five months pregnant throws your center of gravity for a loop, the atmosphere weighing extra heavy on your bones. It doesn’t help that the baby’s decided sitting directly on your bladder with a foot tucked under your ribs is the best position.

“Didn’t know I needed permission to take a piss now,” you snipe. Usually, you try to reign in the hormones but the day’s been too long and you’re in pain. Anyone would be a little snippy (right?). “Can I do that on my own or do you need to watch, Mr. Ghoul?”

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his gaze glinting from beneath the rim of his hat as he tips his head. “Better watch it, sweetheart,” he says. “Otherwise, I might have’ta wash your mouth out with soap.”

Pushing yourself up with a grunt, you determinedly ignore the raspy chuckle that follows as you waddle towards the bathroom. Cussing him out all the while in your mind.

While he’s been ‘nicer’ today - stopping for extra breaks, even packing it in several hours earlier than usual because he noticed how weary you looked - he’s still an asshole.

The toilet’s gone, the tub’s tipped sideways, the linoleum’s cracked, and closing the door sounds like a pack of howling mole rats but its functional. When you catch your reflection in the spider web fractures of the mirror, you grimace.

The wastes have certainly left their mark on you. Gone is the prim-and-proper vault dweller, replaced by a gremlin of a woman Overseer Benjamin would surely scowl at.

A true ‘surfie’ now.

“Great,” you groan, scrubbing a palm over your face. “Just - ugh!”

You’re caked in grime, a steak of dirt smeared across the bridge of your nose. Mysterious stains darken the blue fabric, the golden stripes of your suit an off-putting grey.

Your hair clumps in greasy chunks. You’re glossy with sweat, and while your curves have plumped up over the last few months, you didn’t realize just how much until now.

The vault suit’s always been tight - now it clings and creases in unflattering places. And there’s nothing you can do about it, unless the Ghoul is willing to spare a sewing kit.

You could let the waist out some…

What the hell am I gonna do if he won’t? There’s no way I’ll fit if this baby gets any bigger. Shit, I look like a fucking sausage. Your hand cradles the side of your stomach, stroking over the bump with a frown. This is all your fault, you little parasite.

“You better be so fucking cute - the cutest goddamn baby in the wasteland. Or I will riot.”

Tugging down the zipper over your breasts is heaven, the swollen flesh spilling out of the parting fabric, no longer compressed. It’s almost enough to make you cry as you struggle to tug the lycra off your shoulders, the fabric putting up a fight.

After some awkward contortions that pull uncomfortably at the muscles of your shoulder blades, you manage to wrangle yourself free.

The temptation to burn the stupid goddamn suit is almost too much to resist, but then you’d really be traipsing around the wasteland in the nude and just… no.

Peeling off your undershirt is another story altogether, the soft cotton feeling like sandpaper as it scrapes over sensitive skin. Your nerves tingle with awareness, bolts of pain shooting through your nipples with every shift.

Quick like a bandaid, you think, taking a steadying inhale.

It’s a miracle you don’t scream.

Tears cling to your lashes, your nose running as you toss the shirt to the side with one hand and cradle your chest with the other. Sure, you’ve had tenderness with your period but this kind of pain? A whole new level.

You almost don’t know what to do with yourself.

How is this fair - aren’t you suffering enough?

Sniffling, you peer down at your tits and gingerly cup them with your palms. Swollen hard and warm to the touch; a heavy weight crushing your ribs.

Do I really have to milk myself like a fucking brahmin? Another bolt of lightning crackles through your nerve endings as if in response. Fine. God, this is embarrassing.

Only any attempt at touching your nipples produces pure agony, shards of glass biting into delicate skin.

No matter how slight your touch, no matter how gentle your fingers - it doesn’t work. Leaves you more distraught and in pain than when you began as inflamed nerve endings crackle and burn.

And when the tears truly start, the dam breaks. It’s not long before they drip down your cheeks in fat rivulets, your breath hitching from you in pathetic little exhales.

Your fist shoves against your mouth in an attempt to smother the sounds, teeth sinking into your knuckle until you leave sore indents.

But you should know better, not only does the Ghoul have heightened senses (he’s taunted you constantly with this fact like the asshole he is), but he’s uncannily perceptive in a very annoying way.

You don’t hear the squeal of the door, but you do sense his presence behind you; the rad warm burn of his body as he stops a scant few inches away. You feel his breath against the nape of your neck, the barest brush of his chest as he inhales.

“You ready ta stop bein’ stubborn?” he hums. “I thought I told you not ta wait s’long.”

Your voice warbles from you, “G’way.” You curl into yourself, shoulders hunching as you hang your head. “Don’t need your help.”

The Ghoul snorts. “Cuz you doin’ so well on your own, huh?”

“I resent that.” You shoot him a weak glare, the animosity ruined by the crumble of your lips. “I really, really do.”

You hate always having to rely on him, so desperate to prove that you can take care of yourself only to have every effort to do so thrown back in your face.

Shit, you hate how right Birdie was, “Honey, you won’t last five minutes on your own. Please stay here with us where it’s safe.”

“Well, maybe so. But pickers can’t be choosers, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a languid roll of the shoulders. “Ain’t no use cryin’ over spilled milk. C’mon, the longer you wait, the worse it’s gon be.”

“I just - you don’t understand…”

He reaches around you to set his hat on the sink, the dwindling light of twilight creeping in through the holes in the roof to bathe him in its bloody light.

He looks like a grotesque demon that clawed its way from the depths of hell. It gets your pulse thudding, electric awareness an unwelcome visitor as it roosts behind your navel.

“I understand plenty. Now, let me.”

Not an offer - not really.

More akin to a demand, one wrapped up pretty like a gift. You’ve been here many times before, and while the Ghoul proffers his help under the guise of not wanting to hear your bitching and moaning, the hungry gleam of his eyes as they rake over your face say otherwise.

If it’s one thing you’ve learned in your travels with him, it’s this: he is entirely self-serving. He offers because he wants to suck on a set of pretty tits. If you happen to cream your panties while he does, well, he counts it as a win-win.

Quid pro quo.

And what you hate more than how utterly correct everyone is about life on the surface, is how needy he makes you. How desperate and dumb and dripping he’s got you by the end, drunk off the flick of his tongue and the rasp of his touch.

Because it’s so hard to be strong in the face of pain when the solution is right there; open-palmed.

“...Fine, just don’t - don’t leave marks this time, okay?”

A slow waking smile creaks across his face, and he says, “I ain’t makin’ any promises, sweetheart.”

Your stomach swoops, and your thighs clench.

Shit.

Scarred lips work over tender flesh as a talented tongue flicks and swirls over the bumps of your areola, the tip digging into your nipple and drawing the swollen nub into a hot mouth. You whimper, arms tossed over the Ghoul’s broad shoulders.

Cold ceramic digs into the base of your spine, your body crowded back against the sink as he plasters himself to your front. Cuts off any escape routes and refuses to let you squirm away from the overwhelming sensations as he suckles.

Heavy palms grope at the plush curves of your hips, fingertips digging into the fat.

His lips pop off your nipple with a sticky smack. “Always taste s’fucking good,” he groans against your sternum. “Got the prettiest set a tits in the wasteland.”

“Hnn! N-Not so hard.”

While you say that, you don’t mean it - not really. Your pussy throbs in time with your heartbeat, clit swollen and aching for friction. Your inner thighs are a mess of slick, your vault suit caught around your knees.

He never touches you below the waist directly (some boundaries still exist between you two), but at this point in your pregnancy, you’re so sensitive a gentle breeze could set you off.

“Heh, ain’t you know lyin’s a sin?” he says.

A scarred cheek drags over the swell of your breast, the rasp of rad burn alighting your nerves. Bolts of desire ricochet down your spine, fizzle like Nuka Cola on your tongue. He presses an open mouth kiss to your nipple, his tongue flicking out to massage the tender bud.

At the taste of your skin, his cock twitches where its grinding against your thigh. You feel him through his ragged pinstripe slacks, his shaft a thick line of heat.

It’s probably the hormones (you refuse to admit its anything else) but just the thought of touching him, of sinking down onto his erection - feeling how fucking good he’d stretch you out and fill you up - makes you dizzy.

You pant, your voice distinctly whiny when you say, “Please, d-do something. It still hurts.”

His grin reminds you of the mongrels roaming the wastelands. “Sh,” he hushes you. “I got you, sweetheart.”

The tips of his fingers brush along the side of your swollen stomach. Your heart flips in your chest, your breath catching as he follows the contours of your body, reaching down to brush over the skin of your mound. This is new, he’s never done this before. It’s simultaneously as arousing as it is terrifying.

“Can smell how wet you are for me,” he says, tone low and gruff. “You gonna be a good girl for me, ain’t you?”

“I-”

Then his mouth is slurping at your tit, his teeth biting down on your nipple gently as those strong fingers dip between your thighs. Blunt nails scratch through your pubic hair, a calloused pad swirling circles around your slippery clit. Your hips jump, your head rolling back between your shoulders as a loud moan rips itself from your throat.

You arch back so far your belly presses against the Ghoul’s, your tits smothering his face.

You think, half deliriously, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a nose otherwise you might’ve broken it.

“Shit, that’s so - oh, fuck, please, please, please!’

Your legs widen to make room for his hand as yours fly up to grab his biceps, nails biting into the rough leather of his duster.

His tongue flutters across your areola. “C’mon, pretty mama, give it ta me.”

“Oh.” Sparks dance behind your eyes, your knees shaking as the Ghoul strokes over your folds, tests your wetness and the give of your cunt as he plays with your entrance. “Right there,” you gasp. “I’m gonna…”

He grunts, tugging on your nipple with his teeth.

The sharp bite of pain shoots through you, deepens the kindling warmth behind your navel that steadily builds and builds and builds. You feel on the very edge, nerves plucked like the keys of a piano.

So close you can taste it.

Then a tingling starts in the tips of your fingers.

Burns its way up your arms to settle in the weight of your chest, pins and needles pricking across the skin of your tits, lancing through the swollen buds of your nipples.

You tremble, the relief bringing tears to your eyes as tears the heaviness releases in a warm flood, your milk letting down to flow into the Ghoul’s eagerly pulling mouth.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he moans, chasing after the taste by nuzzling into your chest. His cock ruts against you. “Took you’re sweet damn time, didn’t you, darlin’?”

Your head spins, hazy thoughts scattering like confetti.

Endorphins simmer through your veins as you float on a cloud of cotton softness. Reality seems worlds away, your vision blurry as you focus on the points of contact between your bodies. The stretch of his fingers plunging into your pussy to stroke over the front wall.

Mouth slack, your hands creep up the Ghoul’s arms to trace over the sides of his neck, watch the dance of your fingers over his skin. “It feels s’good,” you slur. “Please don’t stop - wanna cum just like this.”

“Heh, wouldn’t dream of it.”

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: hi hello welcome to part three. i flunked the quiz. lemme know what you think. NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. this chapter kinda sux. can't believe i went through a breakup just last week and i still cant write decent post-breakup scenes.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab hope i didn't forget anyone.

masterlist.

you: *sent a link*

him: ?

him: what's this

you: benefits of crying

you: read it it's enlightening

him: some people do not cry over a breakup you know and that is totally okay

you: why crying helps.

you: 1. tears release toxins, stress hormones to be specific. it is good to let all the bad energy out.

you: 2. it aids sleep. no need for further explanation.

you: 3. crying releases oxytocin and endorphins. i know you don't know what an oxytocin or an endorphin is but they're happy chemicals.

you: 4. crying helps you receive the support you need from the people around you. EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY is okay, max. stop treating it like an STD.

him: it feels like an std

you: pussy

you: emotional vulnerability is a thing and it's normal so stop trying to be a big strong man when you're barely holding it together.

you: you may look fine now but i know you

him: please stop

you: no

you: 5. crying has a self soothing effect. very nice actually. it activates the rest and digest system.

him: what even is that

you: the parasympathetic nervous system

him: ??

you: this is why you shouldn't have dropped out of high school

you: education is important yknow

you: youre already lacking in three forms of intelligence, academic, emotional n social intelligence

him: fuck you im smart

you: fuck you 2 and yeah you're smart but only in geography

you: you probably can't do your taxes

him: im dutch so the company's account department do it for me by default

him: the american system is just weird

you: cant argue w/ u there

you: also, 6. crying helps restore emotional balance

you: see? you need that

you: yknow now that i think abt it you should consider seeking therapy

him: what makes you think i’m not in therapy right now

you: well have you considered getting MORE therapy?

You stand in front of the body mirror, holding the Red Bull polo shirt against your body to see how it looks on you for one last time. On your right sleeve, the word MANAGER is written in bold, white text. Because that was what you were. Just a manager.

In another universe this is not the shirt that you’d be wearing. The MANAGER would have been ENGINEER. In another another universe where your family has been well-off enough to continuously send you to karting school and you would have been the one driving the fucking car by now.

You know, if Max has even tried talking to Horner and suggested that you should be moved into the engineering team, then you wouldn't be stuck wearing this god-awful polo that burned your skin every time you wore it for work. Everybody reduced you as Max’s American manager and because you are American, most of them kind of just assumed that you're dumb, you know?

Does the world even know how smart you are? That you graduated top of your class, got the best thesis award, and that you had finished your masters just this year? Did they even know that a Japanese car company wanted you on their research team? That a NASCAR team wanted you on board as one of their engineers? Does Max even know?

Fuck no. He only knows that you're the best at ironing clothes and organizing his Google calendar and memorizing his entire coffee order by heart. He knew you're good at extinguishing kitchen fires and kicking ass in YSL Opyum heels. You doubt he knows that you can do Calculus in your sleep.

You can take it if the world puts you down for your appearance. But if the world puts you down because of your intellect? That's a different story. You'll take any insult to the face but not to your intelligence.

You have four days left in Monaco so you have begun packing already. You're right, everything did fit into three suitcases. Also, you haven't told Max yet. For some reason, you’re too anxious. Which is shocking to say the least because you never ever gets anxious when it came to Max Verstappen. You wouldn't have lasted this long working alongside Max if you were a pussy.

Max Max Max Super Max Max—

“[Name] here. Need anythin’, champ?”

Hearing a sob on the other end of the line immediately activates your fight or flight response. Your eyes widen and you toss the Red Bull shirt aside. Your legs leads you to the nearly empty shoe rack stationed beside the front door, grabbing the pair of shoes at the very top of the tiny shelf and throwing them on.

“I’m comin’ there. Hang on, Max. You wait for me, okay?”

He doesn't answer, just continuing to sob and the sound absolutely breaks your heart.

You run to his penthouse at a speed that will even put the RB19 to shame. Not even bothering to knock, you barge in and yell his name in the empty halls of his penthouse. You search in the kitchen. He's not there. The living room. Not there either. The room where his simulations are. Not there. You run to his bedroom upstairs.

The door is locked. Dammit. Panic overflooded your system.

“Max, sweetheart, you there?”

No answer, but you can hear a faint sound behind the door if you press your ear against the wood. Firefighter training covered how to open a fucking door when it was locked so this once again becomes a situation where you're grateful that you did that tiring and borderline suicidal volunteer work.

Max keeps a fire extinguisher inside his penthouse as per your advice. There is one stationed in almost every room inside his house. You knew there is one inside his room and another one just at the end of the hallway. You make a quick run for it and once you have the extinguisher in your hands, you run back to his door.

“Step away from the door!” you instructed while your mind mentally calculates your payment plan as you hit the door knob with so much force, the walls tremble at your strength. You're functioning on pure adrenaline. Your instincts only yell one thing and that is: go to Max. No one and nothing in this world will keep you from him. It isn't long until his bedroom door broke down. With one last final kick, it crumbles down from its hinges and you forcefully pry it open and sprint inside.

Max tucks himself in the tiny space in the corner of his huge bedroom, his knees shoved up to his chest. A 181-cm tall man trying to make himself as small as possible.

This is it. This is the bottled-up emotions he's been storing since Abu Dhabi. You cannot say you have not anticipated this. Max is bound to explode sooner or later.

Panic attacks have made a home in Max’s body since he was a child. That's what one gets when they’re parented by someone like Jos Verstappen. He killed Max’s soul and made the boy a machine and for what? To shape a child into a man, a racer that he wanted to be but failed to become at the cost of Max's mental health and childhood.

When Max looks up with that heartbreaking look on his face, you almost crumble. Almost, because you cannot crumble. Not when Max needs you.

Sometimes, you forget what it took for Max to become the champion that he is today. A childhood sacrificed for his dominance on the tracks. A whole lot of hatred from the people to become a WDC. And now, a love lost for his third consecutive championship.

“You came,” his voice cracks towards the end.

Your eyes soften, “You called, Max. Course I’ll come.”

You barely brace yourself for the impact that is Max’s body wrapping around yours in a tight hug. The man have literally launch himself from the floor to you at sixth gear speed. You stumble backwards slightly, holding his bed for support so the both of you won't fall down.

“Max—”

“No,” he whispers and his grip on your tightens as if he's afraid that you’ll slip away if he even tried to give your lungs space to breathe. “Don't speak. Stay.”

What Max wanted, what Max would get. So you shut your mouth, shuffle slightly so he'll be in a more comfortable position and allow him take whatever he wants from you. This will be the last chance he’ll ever do it anyway because in four days time, you’re flying to Texas.

You stay for what is probably hours in that position. Crumbled together on the floor, leaning against the side of Max’s king-sized bed. Your shirt is completely damp from his tears but you cannot even bring yourself to care about it.

“Your shoes…” It's the first time Max has spoken since the start of his meltdown.

“Hm?” you turn your head and your nose nuzzles against his hair, making you scrunch it up a little. His hair is tickling your nostrils. If you lean a little forward, your lips will meet the skin of his temple.

“They’re mismatched.”

Brows furrowed, your eyes move to your feet and see that Max is right. Your shoes are indeed mismatched. On your left is one of your Adidas slides and the other is your slip-on Skechers. You ran from one building to another in mismatched shoes. Fucking embarassing.

“Ignore them.”

Silence.

“You good now?”

“No.”

“Okay,” you say. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

You hear Max let out a shaky breath, “Just stay for a while. Don't leave me alone.”

“Okay.”

Eventually, you manage to talk Max out of the hug. You're beginning to feel claustrophobic but you do not want to say it out right so you try to negotiate instead. That's how you and Max found yourselves inside his kitchen again. You're trying to replicate your Abuela's cheesecake, which she was known for back in Austin, and Max is…well, he's Max and he’s trying to be helpful in any way he can. If it's some other day, you'd have shoved him out of the way because you prefer working alone in the kitchen. Having eyes on you gives you anxiety. But given today’s circumstances, you do not have the heart to make Max leave so you task him with doing the little stuff like mixing things and throwing shit to the trash can nearby. And he does so splendidly.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what, baby?” You internally wince at your own slip of the tongue. Damn that habit of yours of calling people with affectionate call signs. Thankfully, Max seems to have not noticed it.

“For coming here.”

You shrug.

“I only did what you did for me in 2021.”

Again, your breakup with Leo was bad bad. You spent a month crying for a love lost and Max was there for you. For the most part, at least. You want him to focus on winning and winning alone that you pushed him away a lot of times but you appreciated how he was more obedient to your commands, that he held his tongue so he wouldn't piss you off even though he was not liking your words, and that he was considerate of you.

“I hope you won't go into fights though,” you chuckle. “Like I did after my breakup.”

He smiles, shaking his head lightly and you know he's recalling the memory. 2021 is a hilarious year for you, the Red Bull manager. You went viral after getting into a cat fight with a girl and a whole fist fight with her boyfriend.

You and Leo called it quits a week before Monaco and even though it had been four races since then, your heart was still in a quite fragile state at that specific race weekend. One minor inconvenience was enough to ignite a wild blaze of fire within you and nobody could extinguish the flames.

After Silverstone FP1, you were leading Max to the cool down room to brief him with Horner’s relayed instructions and someone had thrown a glass bottle towards the both of you while walking. Originally, Max was the main target of the bottle but you happened to have moved towards the line of trajectory and the bottle landed on your temple, hard enough that you stumbled upon impact.

You barely heard Max’s shocked gasp and shout of panic over the sound of glass shattering on your foot because the only thing you could register was the terrifying feeling of a thick liquid trickling down the side of your face and you didn't even need to see it to know it was blood.

The only thing you saw was red and it was on fucking sight.

Fucking Hamilton fan. Fucking Hamilton. He’s in Max’s way. He’s in your way. He’s the wall that was dividing you from your dream position in the engineering team.

You shoved the iPad you were holding to Max’s hands and marched down to the woman wearing the Merc #44 merch, swiftly jumping over the barricade and grabbing her by the collar of her pristine white Versace top.

The events that followed were too fast. You grabbed her collar. She pulled your hair. You also pulled her hair. Someone pulled her away from you. You tried to grab her, clawing her bare arms with your manicured nails. She screamed. You screamed back. You pulled out some curse words in Spanish as well because cursing her in one language alone is not enough. Her boyfriend appeared. A quick punch to your cheek. You fell to the ground.

The world stood still. There was a sting on your palm because your skin got torn from the hard surface of the concrete ground. You let a bloodcurdling war cry and your Dad would definitely be disappointed at you for using the boxing techniques he taught you for self defense purposes only to fight a guy two times your size.

Everything was a bigger blur from there. But you did remember the sensation of Max’s strong arms around you, stopping you from lunging forward again. He was saying sweet words to your ear to calm you down but your brain failed to intercept them so you could hear the words, could hear his voice, but not understand any of it. You remember Christian Horner's disappointed face that haunted you even two years later. You remembered feeling so terrified as you sat outside Christian Horner’s office waiting for the final verdict while he and Max and a few of the Red Bull higher-ups argued about your future with the team. You remembered hearing Max’s loud snarl on the other side of the mahogany door: “Did you see her face?! There was blood everywhere! On her nose, on her mouth, on the fucking side of her head!” You remembered the girl taking the case to court. You remembered fearing that you’d be sent to jail. You remembered that she lost the case because it was ruled as self defense and your injuries were grave. You remembered discovering that it was Max who used all his power and got the best lawyer to fight your case. You remembered the atmosphere in the Red Bull garage shifting when you entered it a few weeks later and everyone stared the bandages and bruises. Everyone thought one thing: of course, it would also take a monster to manage a monster like Max Verstappen. You remembered Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, apologizing personally for the fight caused by his own fan. He didn't need to but he was so sincere with it that you cried when he handed you the apology flowers. God, how could you even hate this man? Your anger towards him was misplaced.

You’d been living with the guilt ever since, that you were horrifyingly violent for a day, that you were capable of killing for a day. And it could happen again. One day. God, you hoped you wouldn't have to see that day. You knew all your coworkers have been careful with angering you ever since. They're terrified of you even. Max should be, too. But then again, why would he when he already saw the horrors done by his father’s hands ever since he was a child? He was used to it.

“I won't,” he says, smiling at you. “I wouldn't want to add anymore problems for you to clean up.”

But you will not be the one cleaning it up because you resigned. You didn’t tell that to him though. Not right now. He just had a meltdown over Kelly leaving him and the news of his manager leaving him too will destroy him.

The cheesecake is a little burnt when you take it out of the oven but it actually adds more flavor to it so yeah, that's a win.

“We should drink,” you suggest.

“It’s mid-afternoon.”

“We drank at mid-afternoon yesterday,” you give him a blank stare. “With Alex and Charles, remember?”

He doesn't say anything as you make your way to his fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. Max has champagne stored somewhere but you have enough of those expensive champagnes. You need beer. Beer is good. Beer is nice. You're a beer type of person and it is time Max becomes one, too.

“I’m no scientist,” you begin, biting off the beer’s bottle cap. “But according to chemistry, alcohol is solution.”

Well, technically, edible alcohol or ethanol is not a mixture. Rather, it's a pure substance that happens to be a liquid at room temperature and typical atmospheric pressure. Pure ethanol is not a solution. Hard spirits though? That's a solution.

Beer is not a hard spirit. It's more of a fermented drink. But Max doesn't know that, though, so you don't bother explaining the science behind it.

Somewhere down the road, the two of you move to his living room. You use the Youtube app in his TV to search karaoke video and have the bestest time of your lives. You're screaming along some Daddy Yankee and El Alfa songs and Max doesn't know how to speak Spanish so he’s just vibing to it.

At 5 PM, you pull out Max’s expensive vodka bottle. Now this is the real shit. The ten bottles of beer? Those are just pregame. Max is already drunk with just those because he’s a pussy but you’re no pussy, so the only right answer is vodka! Viva la vodka or whatever.

Your throat gets tired of singing and Max gets tired from dancing, too, so you both decide to just go entertain yourselves in other ways. First, you introduced Max to beer-pong. He loses, of course. He sucks at everything not racing. Then, the two of you move onto chess. Max gives up mid-game. He cannot understand the rules. Then, lastly, you move to the billiard table Max owned. He only used it when the other guys are over and you do not even know why he bought it when he sucked at playing billiards.

“You know what Kelly said the morning before the race?” Max suddenly says and you look up at him, brow raising slightly. He’s drunk; his skin is flushed and he is all giggly and smile-y as he sits on the billiard table’s side rail and using the billiard stick as some sort of support stand to keep him from falling. You hope he won't accidentally poke himself. You're no better, too. Ten beer bottles and a few glasses of vodka. But you’re not as drunk as Max, and you still have a straight vision and you can still sink the colored balls into the pockets of the billiard table.

“Hm?”

“That it was unfair for her.”

You raise a questioning brow, “Why?”

“I bought shoes and they don't fit her.”

You blink. He laughs at himself as if he has uttered the funniest joke in the world.

“Three years of relationship gone because of a single pair of shoes,” he continues. “She wanted those shoes, too.”

Kelly….what the fuck?

“But that's okay. She….She made me open my eyes, you know? She made me realize what I truly love.”

“Racing.” It's not even a question. It's the truth.

Max stares at you, long and hard, and you look away first because you fear that if you allow yourself to stare too long, you’ll drown in those beautiful blues. This is enough heartache for the day. No need to add more.

“Hey [Name],” he begins. “If I asked you to kiss me, would you do it?”

[punkeropercyjackson]

Summerpunk:A guide to punk culture for noobs by me(Summer)as i pass down what i used to learn onto you(the person reading this)

It's afropunk/solarpunk focused because i'm afrosolarpunk(and pastel punk)but there is general stuff in there!Title comes from my friend @constant-state-of-self-discovery tag for me on his blog,which he gave to me based on me being solarpunk.This isn't every single resource i've used but it is the most important bits and i have two more links left so i offer these as a bonus🤲🏼

First one because diy or die(as in stop buying Mcdonalds if you're grown or drop dead)and second one because Duke is an underrated canon punk character even though he's in the same league as Hobie Brown and Kat Elliot!

[weedpicnic]

​I got this word tattooed on my leg recently it’s my first text tattoo and it was in my friends flash sheet they made, and during the appointment they admitted they have no idea wtf the word means and said they just added it to the sheet because of the yves tumor song then I had to awkwardly explain that I also reallllly love that song but that I chose this design because it’s an ongoing theme in my stupid gay life and then we just kinda sat there for a minute with that HAHAH

Limerence, aka attachment issues bisexual man with social anxiety

[allsadnshit]

hello! feel free to disregard if this is overly personal, but a close friend is getting exploratory surgery for her endo in a few weeks and i am brainstorming different ways i can give tangible support. im planning to cook a few meals and put together a care package, and i was wondering if u had any recs for specific products/natural medicine/meals? your candidness abt your own journey has been really moving to me and i would appreciate some insight! again apologies if it crosses a line and feel free to delete <3

that's so sweet! endo surgery is different for everyone - and also really taxing because you don't know what's gonna happen till they are in there (like if a lots gonna be cut out, if they don't find anything, etc)

I think meals is a 10/10 to have ready. Cooking is hard and nourishing food after surgery is soooo important! bone broths, herbal teas, congee, and things easy to digest and get the system back in flow.

My essentials were: cramp cream from the brand getsomedays (I hate their social media marketing and I think they post a lot of dumb stuff, but the cramp cream is their best product and I haven't found anything that works better), a heating pad, a meal tray with a soft bottom for eating in bed, maybe comfy slippers, SOMEONE WASH AND DRY THEIR SHEETS BEFORE SURGERY SO THE BED FEELS CLEAN AND GOOD, aaaaaand if they are offered opioids...which they likely will be....I HIGHLY recommend NOT taking them and opting for the other pain meds that are less addictive.

also if they are suggested birth controls or IUD after finding endo and they arent already on them - PLEAAAASE let them know there are OTHER options that won't destroy their body and hormones...Chinese medicine, holistic medicine (brands like Elix healing or root + bones), physical therapy for tightness and muscle strain...like literally anything else!!!!!!! and if they decide to take the birth control please make sure they look into the user experiences on reddit. Mine gave me such crazy heart palpitations I thought I was going insane or dying!

GOOD LUCK <33333 tell them recovery is a slow burn not a race

[realtransfacts]

hi! i am not sure if im gnc or just enby and i have enough health related hormonal trouble so i don't want to add gender affirming hrt to the mix. do u know of exercises that can help to get an androgynous appearance for an afab? even when i dress in clothes that make me feel happy, once people comment on me/my body and how "womanly" it looks it goes away and dysphoria hits hard :( its really ruining my mental health and no amount of therapy helps so i figured i should take steps to change!

If it's the actual shape of your body that triggers your dysphoria, you could try wearing a chest binder and maybe even a hip binder. But I would, more than that, suggest considering getting some muscles. Something that triggers my own dysphoria a lot is my arms/shoulders, specifically how non-muscular they are compared to the average cis guy. And I know I feel a lot better when I am actively builing muscle and working out regularly. Not necessarily at a gym, even just using my dumbbells at home does a big difference for me. I tend to focus on bicep and tricep since they tend to be the most visible muscles, but I also work out my chest and shoulders as well since I feel that it helps with getting a more androgynous/masculine apperance both to my silhouette and to my posture.

What work-out programme and diet works best for you will be very individual, so I don't feel like I can recommend a specific one. But there are plenty of free resources online, from video tutorials on youtube to muscle building forums that can give you more personalized diet advice to help with the muscle building. Search around, see what community you feel like you fit in with. It might also take some trial and error until you find what gives you the best results, so don't give up if you don't see instant change. Keep at it.

[lenasprouts-words]

olderbrother!skz headcanons pt 2!!

ahh maknae line! hyung line

han

you guys are inseparable

you also get mad at minho for stealing your brother

also han and u are actual soulmates

minho is second (and less cool in ur opinion)

only about one-two years apart

when yall meet he does the ‘where my hug at?’ thing

its either you koala hug him or he does

just like, legs wrapped around waist typa hug

or he’ll bury his face into your armpit

you think it’s disgusting but he argues its comfy 

he sends you all his photos he wants to post

then you choose the ones you like 

he likes anime; you like kdramas

constantly fighting abt which is better

it got so heated once that even felix rose his voice for yall to stfu

its okay tho u made up a day after and went to the park to have a singing contest

you watch silly documentaries together

your chat is filled with stupid jokes and complaints

but he’s the first to know when something is wrong

started dissing this kid who bullied you in fifth grade

he got sent to the office but gave you a hug right before

steals things from photoshoots to give to you

spams you when he’s in the studio

asks you for lyric inspo and uses your terrible love life as inspo

once you showed one of his songs to your partner

’my brother wrote this about my last ex. dont make him do it again, he cried writing it.’

well your partner also cried so

matching stuffed animals <3

asks you to help him learn twice choreo

bc ur a huge once

he also got you a signed album from them

’oh here noonas gave me this idk why tho’

felix

loves you to death.

like fr its scary

youre four-five years younger than him

so you basically have eight older brothers

nicknamed you smiley bc your smile is the cutest thing ever (and it is)

runs to you calling ‘smiley!!!’

and lifts you off the ground when you hug

he hooks his chin around your shoulder and smells you

you think him smelling you is weird but it isnt

bc according to him you smell like ‘vanilla and lavenders and lemon’

it is so very random but you love it anyways

you two balance each other out so well, in a really weird way tho

like he’s hyper and energetic and sweet

while your active and excited and a little bitter

your insults and comebacks make him cry laugh every time

and you do the same with felix

he will NEVER shut up abt you trust

like seungmin once put him on a ban from talking about you

but he just started texting about you so

taught you taekwando

and now you fight hand to hand against changbin (and win most times)

felix doesnt like it tho bc ‘changbinnie'll get hurt and cry!’

both of your puberty hormones went to your voice box

his got deeper and huskier; yours is silkier and in the middle tone range leaning deep

but its like a rich deep ya know?

when he’s sleepy he starts mumbling random sentences and you record them snd send them to you group chat named ‘skz (-1 sunshine +1 smiley)’

if seungmin thought felix was bad at gaming, youre even worse

most of the time you end up dying

its funny because you started gaming before felix did too

you gave each other sweatshirts for white day in korea

and now your roommate hates when you use it because its so worn down and lowk smelly

jeongin has to beg felix to take it off and put it in the wash

dance parties at random times

especially if you or felix are feeling down

the playlist ‘HOE DANCE DOWN!’ is blasting

consisting of twice, charli xcx, dua lipa, and olivia rodrigo

other artists too and some from jyp bc felix loves his jypnation

not jyp tho anytime felix complains abt the ‘stupid motherfucker who wont shut up and has no talent and too much confidence’

complains ESPECIALLY while yall r playing fortnite, on your request

baking is your shared therapy

felix makes brownies, you make cookies

perfect duo in the kitchen

you bake so often that watching you two is like a dance

members will literally watch you bake and you flip them off

‘LIXIE I GOT FLIPPED OFF AGAIN!’

‘JISUNG STOP BEING A CREEP!!’

rock paper scissors is YOUR thing

like felix will just turn to you and stick his fist out

you also win almost every time

seungmin

you literally have twin telepathy

mainly bc your twins but he is also thirty two minutes older

so, day ones

gatekeeps you from his friends but not the group

because somehow they already knew who you were

you introduced yourself to them the day they debuted

only pretends to be sad abt not being a twin in the group

because he already has you and wouldnt change it for anything

the only person he will not hesitate from skinship is you

pats on the head, chin on shoulder, holding hands, occasional squeezing

his hugs are your safe spot

he’d tap you on the shoulder and take your arm

then he starts massaging you after pulling you into the hug

and it feels so good

and he’s surprisingly good at it too

treats you like a baby bc ur the youngest in you family (by a half hour)

once got you a new phone to stop you from complaining

you think its because he loves you but that is denied every time (its true tho, bc who wouldnt love you?)

only person who can calm you down

when you get too mad

he’ll call you or lay next to you

rub your back until you calm down

if youre on call he’ll put on music and start singing random shit

youre the orange kitty to his golden retriever puppy

you literally paw at him until he gives you his attention

he’ll get excited and its the cutest thing you’ve seen

wakes you up by singing the high note in ‘cover me’ in your ear

ever since he’d recorded that he’s been bragging abt it

but you dont mind bc his singing is nice and you know he would feel the same if you bragged about your fashion designs and website

every day you leave him sweet messages (like his older sister!!)

‘oh seungmo, love your hair today! your smile lit up my room puppy’

in return he sends cute gifs

he also learned french from the i am you tour to swear at you

asks for help in english before events/interviews where english will be used

you were the one who calmed his worries before the paris fashion week

since youre an english and fashion design major he relies on you

he will also never get over the fact that his TWIN is double majoring

your literally jeongin’s favorite tho

bc if seungmin says no you’ll say yes

very very mischevious

if one of you are having a bad day

you’ll just bring the other to a rage room

very effective

jeongin

he’s the maknae of the group and hates getting babied

so he automatically doesn’t baby you

maybe he does a little bit….

but thats because you told him it was okay and you liked it

youre around three years younger than him

so everyone in the group babies you

jeongin is always the first to go and greet you tho

spooks you tho

goes behind your back and yells ‘boo!’ in your ear

he gets punched by you after that

you just tackle him and squeeze him

but he goes ‘oh youve grown so big now!’

he’s also been getting stronger so when he goes into his normal hug where he puts his amrs around and under your armpits, you get squeezed until youre out of breath

on that note

he takes you to the gym bc you’ve been wanting to work out since starting college

he wanted to b your gym buddy (also was scared of u dying bc of asking binnie)

pushes you enough to finish bc he knows ur limits <3

you go to a convinience store after your workouts

both of yall try to pay BUT you make a schedule for who pays

you switch off

innie is extremely proud he made that idea

share a gym playlist

and most of your playlist

bc ur music taste is so similar you end up collabing playlists

you both do daily fit checks

slowly you’ve been able to coax him out of terrible shoe choices

you’ll show him something new and he’ll be like

‘oh is this what all the youngsters are wearing now?’

he busts out these rubber shoes that give you a headache

‘im doing it for stay’ you know stay’s reaction bc u r one

you always show what stays are saying on pinterest and call them simps

but you also cant talk bc, and jeongin quotes this

‘damnn hyunjin looking fine enough to be mine’

but also jeongin constantly uses pick up lines on YOUR friends

if he ever picks you up he’ll turn to someone your hanging out with

‘are you the sun because youre so hot you burn my retinas’

and everyone is just. majorly confused

its his random space obsession showing okay

you went on a planetarium date one time

he talked your ear off and then you bit his ear

retaliation for all the times he’s bit you when he was a wee little one

after that you went shopping

a stay photographed yall starting dating rumors

but its okay bc jeongin addressed it in his lives

telling everyone youre siblings

there is a ten minute video of him cracking up, tears flowing bc of the situation

@chans-muffin i delivered!!!!

[barrenclan]

WOOO NEW ISSUE!! i began reading this earlier, but couldn’t finish due to me rereading what i had just read and focusing on the pictures!!! so yeah, finally finished it, and GRRR GOOD ISSUE

first off, throws thrasher in the cootstorm pit too, they can share. no transphobic kitties allowed (obviously not literally, but i love how like.. natural it is? it’s just cormorantpaw’s life and what he’s been raised to think). egrettail should deck him

also egrettail!!!!!! favorite kitty therapist!!!! i assume maybe asphodelpaw asked about her being aroace, maybe brought on after daffodil was like “oh!! ur just like me and asphodelpw!!!” to pinepaw, and that made her think “wait am i into men even?” but. yeah. she just wants to help and she’s such a sweetie

SEVEN. SILVERS. SHE’S MADE IT!!! SHE’S IN AN ISSUE FR!! ULTIMATE ALLY INVENTED HRT TO SUPPORT EGRETTAIL. THE MOST BASED CAT EVER. I LOVE HER SHE’S JUST A LITTLE KITTY. I HOPE SHE’S OKAY. IM GONNA SAY IT METHINKS EGRET, HUSH PUPPY, AND SEVEN SILVERS R FOUND FAMILY JUST A COUPLE OF CHOSEN SIBS. UNLESS THIS IS A NO. SORRY IM EXCITED ABOUT SEVEN SILVERS

shoutout to cormorantpaw for getting his 2nd issue. kinda a crime that i only bring him up now but its ok. i love the goofy early cartoons titlecard image with the literal lovebug and him just thinking it over before going “oh fk im bi” and i love how egrettail was like “it seems like it to me, but it’s up to u” bc she can’t really like. force him to think he has a crush, something about that was really gentle- back to cormorantpaw!!! now he’s a blushy mess and i love him for it. also WHAT DO U HAVE TO DO BOY. WHAT IS YOUR ANGST

yes i know daffodilpaw was hardly here but she still gets her own section bc that’s my favorite community hc collection. cormorantpaw doesn’t seem to want to be involved romantically with her, saying how she’s nice but also noting how she doesn’t tend to listen to him (which doesn’t make daffy a bad person!! just something they gotta communicate as buddies) but also mentioning how she puts her paw on his, and also in the sleeping shot cormorantpaw is staring past daffodilpaw, who sleeps next to him, and at pinepaw. i’m just. babey noooo. break out of ur toxic mindset its okkk. unless u actually do like cormorantpaw then i’m. sorry. how did i make the daffodilpaw section the longest oops

rate this issue 5 mysterious end birds out of 5!!! thank u for another great issue :3

So sorry not answering this ask for awhile! All that trouble with my account hit at a bad time. I'm glad you liked the issue, though. :)

Egrettail had the patience of a saint for not beating the absolute shit out of Thrasher when they were in Defiance, and I'm certain she gave him what for on more than one occasion after Hush Puppy died.

Yes, she and Asphodelpaw may have had a conversation about similar realizations she was going through just like Cormorantpaw, heheh. We'll get there someday.

I was so excited to finally include Seven Silvers in an issue!! When I first created her character I wasn't planning on it, but she's just too fun not to use. Hell, I'm allowed to invent magic cat hormone therapy if I want to, who's gonna stop me. Seven, Hush Puppy, and Egret are any manner of close friends you like, and found family/siblings are as good a way as any.

The POVs from other characters are not going to be very common, since Pinepaw is the protagonist in the end, but it's always nice to dip back into Cormorantpaw's thick little skull. I was pretty pleased with myself for thinking of the rubberhose style joke with "lovebug", honestly. Don't worry about his angst, I'm sure it's nothing.

Good catch on everything with Daffodilpaw in this issue! It's something I did intentionally include, and did want to draw a comparison between Corm describing her as not really listening to him with Pinepaw always listening to what he says (which as you said, doesn't mean Daff is a bad person, just that she's got her own things to work out).

[floatingwithlaura]

im gonna say it on here bc it’s safer than my other socials atm. i don’t think im trans (fully). i was dead sure for 9? years. i feel like i am losing a part of myself - i am ACTUALLY gaining something but idk my heart is breaking a bit.

i was on T for 2 and a half years. i was gonna get top surgery (and decided not to for diff reasons). i changed my name. the sex on my passport is M. like. i was SO SURE.

now after all this time i’ve finally been unpacking shit in therapy and also learning about autism. and … yeah. i fucked up lmao.

it is entirely on me, i chose to do all i did and i chose to get done what i did. i consented to everything and i do not regret it. i just feel like… let down. that i wasn’t offered the support i needed earlier to understand myself and how i would feel more comfortable.

i am happy w a lot of T changes! like super happy. it made me feel like my own person. but.. yeah.

i think i would consider myself agender but i dont wanna say i identify that way bc its less of an identity and more of just my general understanding of gender. i have never understood gender. probably an autism thing! but i just DONT GET IT. i dont know how it is meant to ‘feel’ or how u even know which one u fit in.

since i was a child i just couldn’t grasp gender like everyone else and i guess that’s why i transitioned bc i never felt like a real girl. but then i didnt ‘feel’ like a boy either. and then i decided to come out as nonbinary but idk. i never ‘felt’ like that either.

to make matters more complicated, my abusive ex stepdad would bully and belittle me for being afab. he made me HATE being born how i was. the csa i felt was only because of my being born this way. no wonder i wanted to get away from it all. i refused to believe he could have an impact like that when i was 16 or so and people were suggesting it. it made me feel even more out of control. all i wanted was to be in charge of my body for once. transitioning felt like getting that control back (one of the reasons im so grateful for it).

in an ideal world gender wouldn’t exist n we would all just utilise hormones and surgery to feel good in our skin much like any other affirming surgeries.

for now i will use they/she pronouns. but idc really. gender is confusing and unimportant to me. i care more for aesthetics lmao ..

i hope this makes some sense n if anyone resonates with it plz dm me :,) i feel quite alone currently. i know it’s a very odd experience but i hope someone somewhere gets it.

[lostandfem]

hhhh i feel like we agree on so much i just. im “TIF” ig, more specifically FTMTFTMTFT?? and w confirmed prenatal androgenization + dissociative disorder linked to onset of puberty. i have literally tried everything i even did IV ketamine treatments, electroshock therapy. testosterone is the only thing that made me feel like i wasn’t. playing the sims. trying to live from the inside out. idk how to even explain it. if u have dysphoria ykwim probably. the only other times ive ever felt ok were when i was starving myself to the point of producing little to no sex hormones. i feel like a lot of ppl— especially with endocrine-disrupting chemicals becoming more of an issue— are struggling with degrees of genuine sex based dysphoria from prenatal EDC exposure. ik that sounds conspiracy-y but the WHO even released a study recently linking them to GD and intersex conditions. anyway i havent even socially transitioned this time because ive realized idc about what i’m seen as or called i simply just. know in my head what my body should look like. i was also intersex and forced on fem hormones at puberty so maybe its related to that but. i wish radfem spaces were less hateful towards transmasc female ppl. the rhetoric abt our bodies (and in turn abt unmodified intersex bodies bc i wouldn’t have been feminized originally without hormones) is really gross and just shows a deep seated hatred of sex non conforming females and as much as i recognize and hate the biosexism of amab trans ppl and the overall trans community. i just cant feel safe as an intersex snc female so its just like. No Community For Me, i’m too trans for the terfs and too terfy for the transes. sorry i didn’t mean to rant its just. the climate is so divisive rn n im struggling with being radfem but also like. clearly having biosex dysphoria that i have tried literally everything to eradicate. you dont have to publish this i simply needed to tell someone who would maybe get it and you seem to

i did these asks out of order and idk if youre the same person as the other ones rip. but yeah i hate teh “detrans people are mutilated” stuff too. ideologically i know radfems are supposed to support all females regardless of the state of their bodies, but i think youre right that a lot of them take the altered thing to mean youre an impure female. im really sorry you were forced on hormones, i really am. its hard to make peace with knowing that your body was altered when you wish it wasnt. intersex people deserve at least a choice in the matter, not that stuff being forced on them. they deserve to feel the sex dysphoria/dysmorphia without it being an inherently gendered experience too.

being in-between ideologically is rough. but sometimes its kinda necessary. belonging to yourself is important, so if you dont feel like you can belong to any one group, at least stand by your beliefs 💜

[luffythinker]

The fact you also dabble in Naruto is a explosion on my heart, I have so many headcanons i wanna tell you about. I always see a lot of Naruto having top scars but my headcanon is Shikamaru is the one with top scars (Cause im a huge ShikaNaru) I wanna incorporate it into my writing but i don't wanna offend anyone cause i don't have a wide knowledge of the subject. So forgive me if i'm being offensive to anyone. I cannot get the idea of in Shikamaru's Genin years he didn't really care about his chest because it wasn't prominent enough to cause him any problems, he could wear his mesh net with just a jacket, no problems. After he became a Chunin he started growing up, his chest started growing too so he used the vest to cover his chest along with a binder. His parents don't mind, his mom would appreciate a girl but if Shikamaru wants to be a boy she's happy no matter what her son is, his dad is down as well, he's proud to have a son. ANYWAY Naruto one day hanging out with him see's him sitting back without his vest watching clouds together or smg, he grows curious and ask him what that is? why's he got a short undershirt thing? Shikamaru just tells him like it is, cause he's got something he doesn't like about himself, Naruto doesn't prey too much on the issue. After the timeskip Shikamaru has gotten top surgery and he's taking hormone therapy, Naruto thought he was doing drugs the first time he saw him do it. Shikamaru laughed when he said this. Later on some more when they are actually in their realationship Naruto, a alley with 0 knowledge of anything involving gender or stuff like that touches Shikamaru's bare when he's allowed to see it ask what those scars are, he's concerned somebody tried to kill him, once again making Shikamaru laugh. Im sorry to ramble on but i love them and i wanna talk about them.

OMG OMG OMG I LITERALLY LOVE SHIKANARU

transmasc shika omg im gonna collapse, i love to think that he was able to transition so peacefully because he had a great support system, his family was good to him and let him decide how he wanted to dress, and after becoming a genin Asuma just accepted when he said he was a boy, no questions asked !!!

I fully believe he had a crush on naruto since they were kids, but yk there was 'the whole village needs to hate him' thing so he never really got to act on it or interact much. Naruto has his own things going on so he is off to save sasuke and training and really doesn't have it on his mind to think about crushes or romance.

Shika gets top surgery as soon as his chest starts to bother him, he starts taking T, he trains, he's living his life, his crush never quite goes away but it's just something that it's there.

When naruto comes back and they see each other again, he notices shika is different, but like u said, he doesn't think much of it, except he feels Things now. Naruto, to me, feels like a character that does something about things, so if he starts feeling different I can't see him pining silently for years, he's just gonna talk and do something about it, so he does.

I don't think he fully realizes what his feelings are until he talks to shikamaru, shika kisses him on the lips and that's when naruto gets what this all means and what he wants.

I also fully believe Naruto is pan, I don't think he would care about gender at all, he likes people and that's about it, but like u said!!!!!! he also doesn't know a thing about gender, hormones, etc so he is very confused when he sees shika using T for the first time. I think it's very lovely that he thinks someone tried to hurt him when he saw the top scars, I can see them sleeping together and naruto just softly tracing it with his hands and telling shikamaru how handsome he is

ok so i may have gotten a bit too excited here but I'm just very passionate about them okay!! please talk to me more, I'm also open to a lot of ships in naruto

[occasionalesbianlovermariahcarey]

was on the phone w this guy and we got to chatting and he was telling me about how he doesn't understand why anyone would take hormone therapy because it almost always has health risks and like I didn't know how else to explain to him that for lots of ppl improvement on their quality of life is extremely important and there's no "accepting" dysphoria like. anyway he's very 9gag redditor so there's no way to get a point across w/o him being like " cuz science says so". sometimes I just think like. why r u so convinced choices r clear and easy and most of all why do u think everyone who does differently than u would is stupid. like he rly thinks ppl who take hormone therapy don't know better for themselves thats so fucking embarrassing honestly how r u so far removed from the human exprerience just stuck in ur little hole. kind of pathetic

[allsadnshit]

hi izzy im 22 and i have a family history of endo and have been experiencing frightening symptoms and i dont really know who else to talk to in this regard and i hope this isnt rude to send. i am just curious how u went about getting ur diagnosis and what u think are some good first steps for someone experiencing these things. my mom spent a lot of time on a lot of endless painkillers as i was growing up. and im very afraid of reproductive care bc of how archaic it is! love you thank you <3 theres no need to answer if u feel this is too invasive, i appreciate ur time

It's honestly a head start that you already know you have a family history of endo! Although diagnosis is still difficult to get considering surgery is the only official way to get one...you're honestly much more likely to be recommended a surgeon etc if you have your families medical records with it! So that's really good!

Unfortunately I will say for myself and the people I know personally with endo, getting excision surgery wasn't a relief for symptoms as it has often been advertised for some people, so in terms of pain management I don't want to be getting more surgeries myself so I wouldn't tell anyone else too either! That's a pretty personal choice considering risks and recovery, so you will have to think on that pretty seriously if you think excision could help you and make sure you are looking into what the hospitals near you offer.

For myself, diagnosis was really important since I don't have my moms medical records to assist me with understanding my health. I don't think I could be where I am at recovery, management, or socially without having the official diagnosis from laparoscopy so that was really important to me, even though diagnosis didn't do anything for me in terms in qualifying for disability or anything like that! Unfortunately with the medical system you need that paper trail if you plan to do anything in the hospital system in the future, so I am ultimately glad I got my diagnosis even though it hasn't changed things for me in terms of lifestyle or pain.

If you want to start with an obgyn, that's what most people do! And they probably won't let you talk to a specialist before you rule out the basics with getting scans and blood tests first to confirm they can't more easily see why you are in so much pain. But even if your obgyn doesn't help you, you can at least search for a surgeon after that initial intake process being able to say "I already had tests and scans done, it was inconclusive, so I need to move towards surgery for diagnosis".

Obviously I won't have a solution or answer for the broader scope of what to do because even if you do have endo, it's dynamic and can affect people so differently that it really isn't a one size fits all. If anything, I really really do NOT recommend going on any form of hormone or birth control for pain management no matter how hard it's pushed on you. I really don't believe in that method and it's another way to cover up symptoms rather than getting to the root of healing or understanding.

The biggest changes for me have come with lifestyle: changing my diet to healthier less processed options which means not eating out 90% of the time and cooking with really good quality ingredients, getting a nutritionalist who's worked with endo before, cutting back on manual labor working hours, and processing the trauma of chronic illness in therapy and pin pointing places in my life that need my attention or serious over haul for me to rebalance my stress. Stress and endo are soooo tied together because it's hormone effected so it absolutely cannot be overlooked.

Sorry to hear you are suffering in this way! I no longer take any pain medication because of a similar fear. I recommend tiger balm muscle rub lotion on your lower back, getsomedays cramp cream on your front, and a hot rice heating pad on top for pain relief + drink water + sleep well at all costs. It's a marathon not a race!