#(i don't care if no one else uses that tag; it's my tag and i love it)

[the-kr8tor]

I'm sorry about the last one I just got way too excited to express my admiration for your works, I forgot to check!! But I've checked now and I saw The "Imagine if Hobie was prowler" that actually sounds really cool!! I was thinking if you could write something about that, maybe Reader is someone who he cares a lot for but it turns out they're also fighting against each other, (I haven't actually tackled the whole Universe of spiderman so I was genuinely just thinking of Reader as someone with powers TvT) but yeah I got a bit curious about that, I'm not sure if you wrote about that yet since I haven't went in all the master list and hopefully I don't finish it yet cause I'd be left with the deep emptiness (I love all the series so finishing it while it's ongoing would devastate medhdhx) but if you did you can discard my message or if this is too much, that's alright!!

Oh and I'm really happy I didn't make you Uncomfortable it's my first time writing something to a writer and I got anxious TvT I hope you have a great day!!

No worries! You're good! I put my own spin on it, I hope you like it! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Prowler! Hobie Brown x gn! Reader

Word count: 1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw blood, cw violence, cw injury, tw death, Prowler! Hobie, Venom! Reader, ANGST.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The air runs cold, and your breath staggers in your throat. The fighting around you hasn't stopped, nor all the screaming, and bleeding flesh. But everything seems to cease when you see him. The noises deafen, debris and blood stilling in the air— Hobie in all his glory, covered in metal and crimson iron. Hobie, whose face is obscured by steel plates over his familiar face, purple smoke ebbing out of his suit. And yet, despite his rough and intimidating exterior, despite his sharp claws and sharper gaze, your heart still longs for him. He still feels like home.

Home, you haven't thought of it in years, the trees that dance in the wind, soft lavender wandering through the air. And your little house in the middle of the fields you once shared with him. A house that now ceased to exist, burned to ashes, nothing left but dark soot and blackened smoke that seemed endless. Ever burning, flames still snaking along the lavender fields, forever burying your memories with him under the red hungry flames. Those memories still live with you, deep down. You hope it still lives with him. If not, you'd rip it from your heart and hand it to him in your waiting ruby drenched palms.

“H-Hobie?” You ask in a broken tone, even though your soul knows him from where you stand. In between gore soaked bodies, bodies you've ripped and chewed yourself— he stands there motionless. You wonder if he still bears the warmth you used to hold in your arms.

The metal bridge creaks and squeaks, hinges about to give up from the stress of the fighting in its steel embrace. Tethering close to devouring every soul standing on its last life. You've felt the earth collapse years ago. If the ground fell from under you, would you notice?

Hobie doesn't answer, you see his chest rise and fall, gauntlets leaking blood. You don't know if it's his or someone else's, you just know it's not yours. Not yet. Would he hurt you?

You stand there, all worn out, arms bleeding and throbbing, legs trembling from the sheer pain. And yet, your eyes never leave his own mechanical mask, as if you can see the worry behind the steel curtains.

He stands there, heart ripped out, still beating atop the bodies laid out in front of him. He stands there, but he should walk towards you, run towards you and hold you. Hold you like he once had in that lavender field he once called home, hold you as if he didn't lose you all those years ago.

To live in his delusion, to never leave from the haze of the past. He longs for it, to stay where he once held you.

But the blackened tendrils coming out of your wounds is the one that he's fighting against. It curls around you, wrapping you in its mass. White eyes in place of your own that he sees in his dreams, sharp claws and lolling tongue— he doesn't see you anymore. Can't see you underneath the obsidian flesh of his enemy. He wonders if it's still you under it.

With a gutteral screech from the large mouth of the alien mass inhabiting your body, he takes his guitar from his back to pluck its strings. The noise could kill you, or it could liberate you. So he decides, and he plays.

The sound reverberates around the bridge, the creaking pauses for a moment, replaced by the ear piercing shrieks from the venoms. Hobie sees you crumble to your knees, tentacles of black slime ripped apart at the seams.

Your face is revealed under the mass, contorted into pain, the light in your eyes slowly fading as the creature feeds on your very being. Your nails dig into the slimy flesh, desperately trying to rip it out from your body. Eyes meeting with Hobie's, you nod for him to continue despite the blood spilling from your ears.

With bated breath, he strums again. More shrieking, more screaming, flesh torn apart, teeth chattering above the sound. His eyes never leave from your suffering as tears prick from his eyes. Grief snakes along his stomach up to his chest, pressing hard on his heart.

“Again!” You yell, ripping and gnawing at the agony filled venom. He follows, another strum, and another, one by one, venoms leave their hosts, and one by one, the bridge's wires collapse. But your own demon doesn't yield, it clings to you like a babe, holding onto you like a lifeline.

“C’mon!” Hobie stalks closer, plucking his strings over and over again despite your screams that would haunt his dreams. The venom wraps around you in its cold embrace, your own screams stifled with its arm over your mouth, choking you. “No!”

The bridge crumbles, someone tries to yank him away and take him to safety. But he shrugs them off, even if it means his own death.

“Hobie!” You manage to yell, “run!” It has you in a chokehold, dark veins ebbing from its touch towards your skin. It's killing you with it. Swallowing you in darkness, drowning you.

He abandons his guitar to dig you out of the mass. He rips out a chunk but it's immediately replaced and healed. Your muffled breaths can still be heard from under, he doesn't leave you. He won't leave you to die in the arms of the thing that took you from him.

Claws cutting and tearing, he heaves, breath stuck in his lungs. Yanking his helmet off, you see his face from the last pinprick of light. You wish there was a smile on his face instead of the desperation and fear. Still, you wished for home and you got it.

He pleads, and he calls for you, and his face is the last thing you saw before you fell into the suffocating depths.

The bridge collapses from under his feet, and he falls with you, holding onto you, plunging into the icy tides below. In the water, venom dissolves into nothingness, and he could finally hold you again as he joins you on the other side.

[deeppenguinstudent]

My FAVOURITE kevjean fics of all time (take note of the tags).

God, this was beautifully written. I think they captured the essence of Kevin and Jean beautifully, especially Kevin. You guys just need to read it. I love it so much. This is exactly how I imagine Kevin to be if he ever gets into a relationship with Jean. I promise you it's worth it. I would recite poetry about this, but I don't want to spoil anything for you.

Okay, this is in Russian, but you can translate it directly on your Google Chrome page. There's a feature like that. I love love LOVE this trope. If anyone else writes about exchange student Jean, please, oh please, lmk!!

Depressing one-shot where Kevin is on call with Jean as he kills himself. God, I love this so much, I reread this all the time, lol.

Absolute cuties, I adore this feel good one shot!

This was actually my first ever kevjean fic, and gods, it's so amazing. The pacing, the way Jean learns to love other people? 40 000 of pure unadulterated joy when I read this

Party animal Jean is my LIFELINE. And the first chapter had me hooked beyond measure it's so well written!! like genuinely this fic is my guilty pleasure

A cute no exy fic about nerdy Kevin trying to pick up hot worker Jean at an aquarium. Fics like these give me LIFE honestly

This fic makes me so so happy whenever I read it. It's not really canon compliant but who cares?? It's beautifully written and oh my god its just such an awesome read.

Soulmate AU anyone??

Crazy how I remember this fic by heart. I think about it in my daydreams honestly.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754014

I've used up my links lol but anyways fake dating AU kevjean makes me so happy!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54077899

Jerejean best friends and Kevin Day playing Frisbee shirtless? I'm sorry this was the pinnacle of spectacular honestly 😭😭

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27438619/chapters/67076011

Here's another kevjean reunion, is it a wonder what my favourite type of fic is? Lol.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38524621

This isn't outright kevjean, it's mainly focused on Neil and Kevin's friendship but it's so fucking funny I definitely suggest you read this if u need something light and funny.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50032441

Another outright amazing fic. God this was hilarious. Again it focuses on andreil but kevjean is there in snippets! Kevin basically thinks Andrew is cheating on Neil because he sees Andrew kissing spiderman. And spiderman is essentially Neil.

I think that's it? So far😭😭

[b0n3s-is-gay]

can u do dallas winston smut w breeding kink🤭 like he HATES children but he won’t mind the reader pregnant with his child

Different

Synopsis: Time at Dally's place is always chaotic. Sweet sex just ain't in the cards, but nobody is complaining. (Porn with little Plot, I don't know what else to put)

Tags: Porn without a lot of plot, breeding kink (As stated in the request), talks of pregnancy, swearing (This is Dallas we're talking about), cigarettes, mentions of booze, Dallas is a warning himself, degrading(?), Praise, hair pulling, rough sex, set right before the events of the movie.

Dallas "I fucking hate kids" Winston, one might think that he doesn't want kids. And most the time, they're right. Kids aren't on the agenda, but seeing you taking care of Ponyboy and Johnny? Shit, he might be a goner.

That last bit of you taking care of Pony and Johnny was how you ended up here in the first place. It was an innocent gesture, 100%, but something about you caring for the boys just made him was a mini winston... Wouldn't be to bad of an idea, even if he didn't want kids a few months ago.

Now you're in bed, Dally fucking you from behind like a cheap whore. Voice raw as Dally just kept going. It had been 3... maybe 5 rounds and he was still fucking going.

"That's right- Fuck- you're doing such a good job... Such a good. fuckin'. job." Dally moaned loudly, punctuating his words with a thrust. "Such a good whore... Gonna fill you up, make you pregnant..."

Even if Dallas wasn't one for children, something about having them with you made this different. The way you talked, treated them, and acted like a mother rather than a friend to them...

"Such a good cunt... Gonna make you a momma..." Dally slurred as he leaned down to your neck and bit down, sucking and licking your pulse point as his fingers found their way to your swollen clit. "Bet you like that, don't you? Yeah... You're a good slut, a good momma..."

Dallas smirked as his cock bullied the spot inside your gummy walls that made your toes curl and your thighs shake. "Dally, n'more..." You begged as your head fell into his pillow.

"Come on, you can give me one more.. yeah? You can cum one more time on my cock, right pretty girl? You can take another load, right?" Dally grunted as he grabbed your hair and pulled you up so you couldn't cover your voice with his pillow.

Dally quickly flipped you over and pushed you into a position so you were facing him, moving you like you were a toy rather than a human. He then forced you to look at him thrusting into you. "Yeah... Take it..." Dally panted as he came for the final time of the night.

"Such a good girl..." He whispered as he gave you a deep kiss, pulling out of you and then looking down as his cum spilled out of your weeping hole. "Don't go wasting that now..." He chided as he used his fingers to push his cum back in, not letting a drop go to waste.

"'M serious about a kid, in case you couldn't tell..." He hummed as he lit a cigarette, watching as you twitched on his bed from overstimulation.

[fandom-zoomer]

I think I may have come up with the best worst tma time travel “fix-it” au (imho)

Inspired by Ketakoshka's 'dread spawn' idea in their dread child jon series, Dribbledscribbles' origin story for the dread powers and extinction entity interpretation in their extinction!jon fic (and some more of the latter in their post-eyepocalypse fic too), as well as my own love for making unholy (aka fun) fusions of things and sandboxing eldritch interactions with the 'mundane' . . .

. . . I have created a post-canon, Somewhere Else, time travel ""fix-it"" story that I think might be unique (at least I've never seen any fics like it– but if I'm wrong then please please share the link!! or dm me if it's your own work hehe but no pressure!!)

(mag 160+ spoilers after this point!)

(i'm about to wax poetics here (hopefully coherently)—so you can read the story-ramble OR you can scroll to the TL;DR at the bottom to skip it & spoilers to read the nutshell & see if you're interested :3)

so get this...

The big Change happens right? But this time the Extinction is a bigger player in the game than canon, and ultimately deeply marks Jon throughout the eyepocalypse.

So when the finale happens, since Jon is now connected to the epicenter of the whole show, his 'death' and the panopticon's destruction has the simultaneous effect of baiting the Dread Powers into the Hole (via his voice in the spools of tape)– and also killing everyone trapped by the Dread Powers in the world via Jon the walking detonator thanks to being entrenched in the Extinction's influence. —Combining both his best and worst plans and realizing his worst nightmare: killing everyone and spreading the Powers to an unknown number of worlds to wreak even more havoc.

How did this happen?

Simple—but first some backstory for context.

The Extinction was more of a 'lurker', much less "outgoing" than its 'siblings'. And when it was "grandiose", well. . . it tended to leave no survivors. Thus its unrecognition by those like Robert Smirke or Jürgen Leitner.

To go back even further, the Dread entities were originally one cohesive entity with many faces and limbs. Its faces reflected the same developmental complexity as the sources of their manifestation. So those with the most diverse species feeding them held the widest capacities. Namely: the Hunt, End, and Extinction. But being a singular entity, it didn't mean much.

But as human species' family lines develop and grow more complex cognitive ability, more esoteric Dreads developed, and more faces become more complex. And the Extinction was right there from the beginning as more species died out one by one. Quietly. (...maybe? 👀)

Over time humans discovered the Powers and bonded with them, then started to classify them. From here, the Dread entity fragmented into Dread entities.

They developed their own 'consciousnesses' distinct from the hive 'mind' they once were. And, eventually, sapience. Self-awareness. Desires. Personalities. But they were still connected, part of the 'system'.

The Extinction and the Web (newer, but always sapient) are a quirky pair, the Web seeking control over everything and the Extinction seeking ultimate entropy and change upon its catastrophe.

It's hard to distinguish the Extinction exactly, its work misidentified for others with few under its own unique umbrella. Things 'unique' to it get missed due to being a misnomer and not getting clocked. (But that is the nature of the Dread Powers after all.. being a fragmentation of their original singular mass.)

...

The Extinction represents the fear of disaster that will bring about the end of everything—everything you know, love, need to survive. Everything you built, worked for, hoped for. The destruction of stories and of life, of the very history written by your land—your home.

Your community. Your society. Your species.

You.

Annihilated in totality.

The Extinction represents the fear of those that come after you to replace you—worse than you, different from you. Leaving you and your history and stories (the driver of your continued existence) forgotten forever. The fear of life moving on after you, ignorant and apathetic. Your story meaningless, irrelevant.

Your community's story. Your society's story. Your species' story.

Your story.

Erased and written over.

The Web represents the fear of being controlled, fate being out of your hands—by malevolent authorities out of reach, by abusive companions or relatives, by invisible forces far beyond the human comprehension. Spinning, winding, twisting, pulling each decision in your life made for you. Until destruction of the self by your own hand.

Your struggle for change futile. Your feet following the same path. Your fate determined for you.

You forfeit control—your feet march you to your bitter demise.

The Web represents the fear of being conspired against. Scheming, plotting, planning your downfall. The loss of everything you hold dear, worked for, bled for. Spinning, twisting, scripting lies about you. Your credibility falls to pieces, your world shatters, and your story distorts.

You are kept alive by the spreading of your story. And the people have decided to trust the manufactured tale.

You are forgotten—twisted into an image of something wrong.

...

Sometimes they're at odds. Where one seeks to manipulate the threads of everything endlessly, the other seeks to destroy it all so thoroughly, with such finality, as to mutate it– the schemes, the pawns, the gameboard itself.

Sometimes they're complementary. Where you watch as you lose everyone you cared for one by one, spiraling down a path darker into entropy, the irreversible nightmare, and wondering if you ever really had free will in the first place– if anyone did.

What if the end for you really was just another game to them? What if this wasn't their first round? What if you're just the next step in the grand scheme, larger than even your own universe?

Alright, now with that out of the way, let's bring back the question.

How did the Extinction change Jon, and how did this cause the altered result of the finale?

The Web has been there since the near beginning, pulling Jon along and guiding him to his next milestone in the plot. She had known the world would come to an end one way or another, and wanted to bring it about on her own terms so that she—they all—could escape it.

So when the Web saw what the Eye was doing, she had an idea. So she aided their acolytes, seeing her sibling as the perfect way to bring all of them together for the final step. And the Web set her own card onto the board: Jon.

Jon had a natural disposition for the Eye; from stubborn curiosity to the reckless pursuit for answers to even the coldest cases. Whether he knows it or not, his mind is a gaping maw for horrible knowledge—chasing after experiences disguised as answers to his burning questions so dreadful they leave scars on him like sigils of a looming doom.

While he has no affinity for the Web's machinations, he is still hers. She has no issue with guiding agents from across the court, she knows how to share. Especially when it benefits her. Jon archives each event, every little detail, with such care and readiness that he makes the perfect vessel to pull them in—to guide them out. He'd flourish best as her tool in the Watcher's sphere.

After the Watcher's Crown and the Dread Powers came into the world, the Extinction started to make its presence known. It seeped into other Domains and fed on the people's dread for permanent catastrophic change, on their fear of ruin and total desctruction. And as Jon traversed them and lived through their fear, so was he marked by the Extinction.

It seeped into his skin like oil and burned through his veins like acid. It tainted his trails with the radioactivity of human hubris and greed, twisting and mutating both the mundane and Dreadful as he passed. It closed its grasp on him with the tightness plastic rings and infected his Perceived routes with the stench of mountainous landfill and the thickness of city smog.

The Web and the Extinction had a complex relationship, but in this moment they guided the Archivist in synchronous song like a soldier being led to his final mission: dropping the nuclear bomb.

Did Jon know?

...

No.

The twines of manipulation layer labyrinthine over everything, above and below and through every angle and dimension. Even the Nigh-Omniscient Antichrist and his All-Knowing God will never fathom its depths.

He might never know that he helped start the Extinction's ritual: Raze the Earth.

Or that both the Web and the Eye knew and did nothing. (honestly, the latter's only there for the show)

So when Martin stabbed Jon and Melanie lit the gas mainline, the threads around the world snapped and the glowing light of humanity's greatest sins exploded over everything—

—and they prayed—

—and they wept—

—and the Dreads rushed out torrentially. (pulling a few strays with them)

Now for the part you were all waiting for (well I was)—the Heart of this AU

The Dread Powers and the ones who were dragged with them were transported Somewhere Else– a parallel world in a parallel universe. But they were. . . Changed from their previous/original selves.

The tag-alongs—Martin & Jon of course, but also Annabelle Cane, Oliver Banks, Simon Fairchild, and Arthur Nolan—replaced their parallels at birth, and gained partial or full amnesia to their past lives. But their personalities are altered, reflecting some aspects of their pre-finale personalities.

Except for Jon. Jon, the Pupil of the Eye, the Warhead of the Extinction, the Spools of the Web, the Archive of the Dreads and linchpin to their escape. . . was significantly destroyed in the center of the storm. He got it and so much worse—a stick so short its existence was inverted.

While they did get reach the new universe, they had to reconstruct their linchpin/Archive that they're still connected to so that his total destruction doesn't tear them apart as well (being an Extinction avatar that's now deeply connected with them, he's capable of "taking them down with him").

When Jon was reborn, he was literally thrown into the world like a meteorite, landing with an explosive blast that rendered the surrounding area a lifeless wasteland in moments. High radioactivity and a deathly curse left few flora or fauna returning before wasting away soon after. Those that 'survived' did so by being infected by the Extinction or Corruption.

It would permanently remain uninhabitable, and it would take months before the withered stillborn spawn of the sapient eldritch Dread Entities would crawl out of the jagged crater on its own, none the wiser to its tragedies.

TL;DR

The Web manipulated Jon's attempt to put a stop to the Entities' reign, utilizing the Eye's easy influence to help the Dreads escape the world and into a fresh new one before they were also destroyed in the Extinction's "Raze the Earth" ritual (set up by using Jon to weave toxic-filled veins throughout the world he was traversing that'll explode at once 'grand finale' style).

Jon, now deeply binded to the Entities' purest forms and still an Extinction time-bomb, was mostly destroyed during the trip to Somewhere Else and the Entities had to reconstruct him so his death wouldn't destroy them too. This led to Jon being reborn a near completely different being (with some of him preserved) as functionally the direct spawn of the Dread Powers, replacing his parallel counterpart from the new world.

[if-loki-was-a-fox]

It's officially Halloween for me now so I get to post these!!

Reblogs appreciated! ^^

[radio-and-the-dirt]

dude i don't really care if people ship aroace characters just please acknowledge that they're aro and/or ace. like,, aro and ace people still can and do enter into relationships of various types at times and not every aro or ace person completely lacks attraction anyway and some date even if they do, so like, ship them if thats what you want but please just be respectful.

just acknowledge that the character is aro and/or ace. do some research about what that might mean for them if you need to. treat those characters in a way that respects their identities and doesn't completely brush them aside.

im just tired. we can be in relationships. we can not be in relationships. we are still aros and aces. dont try and erase what little representation we get.

i would like to note that i see things in this way because i have never seen a 'professional' writer (like non-fanfic or not a small online creator) specify where an aro/ace character sits on those spectrums or how they actually view relationships of any type. i've also never seen any 'professional' writer's characters get to explore or express that part of themselves enough in their stories to give much better an understanding than just "not really interested in sex or romance".

if a more specific understanding of a character was provided and it meant that that character wouldn't be involved in romantic and/or sexual relationships or was repulsed by them than yeah, I wouldn't want people shipping them at all but i dont think i've ever seen that so thats not what this is about.

[seaweedstarshine]

Sometimes I think of Amy Pond, who grew up being called mad by those who wielded the word as a tool of exclusion and shame —

Amy Pond, who though forced into the hands of four psychiatrists, still clung to that which they called madness until those systems which elevate psychosocial conformity above humanity stripped it from her —

Amy Pond, whose imaginary friend reappeared for a single hour after twelve years and reignited that faith before disappearing for two more years —

Amy Pond, who spent those those two years under the same implicit threat ingrained in her through psychiatric violence, and thus began to believe the man who stopped the invasion was “just a madman with a box,” only for him to agree, and to also call her “mad, impossible Amy Pond,” reframing madness as non-negative for the first time in her life —

Amy Pond, who ignored the disembodied voice of her imaginary friend even as she ran away with him for real, who still lived each day with the traumatic internalization of deviancy dictated upon her by the psychiatric-industrial complex that shaped her from childhood —

Amy Pond, who wouldn't acknowledge the Doctor's voice, such that it took an Angel in her eye that was literally killing her to ensure she couldn't reality check herself —

Amy Pond, who stood before a room which muttered about “the psychiatrists we brought her to,” and though afraid, escaped their rigid parameters of acceptable existence.

[goldenpinof]

.

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this

[transgenderfivepebbles]

if one more Thing Happens i swear to god i'm going to distort

[whumpfish]

Preach it! I wish people would realize how significant the overlap between the whump and the disability community is, and that we're not intruding or taking over spaces

Yeah. This wasn't a thing until recently, hence my additional annoyance with it. Like I said in the larger post, whump is a way for us to find common ground with each other and other people. I've learned a lot about the mechanics of pain disorders that aren't ME/CFS, and phenomena that are similar to what I experience but not exact, and not just on my own posts. I reblogged a reference post a while back from someone who has fainting spells, and I was fascinated to learn how much longer I'm typically unconscious for (30-90 seconds vs 2-15 wholeass minutes!). Previously I'd just thought unconsciousness was unconsciousness. It's been a good tool for me for talking to my doctors, even. One of the first things I'm asked when I mention my pain knocking me out is if I've ever fallen, to which I've always responded "??? By the time it's bad enough for me to pass out I've already had to sit/lie down??" Now I know why they're always asking what I thought prior to this was a weird and counterintuitive question, and I can say "I don't mean fainting, I mean passing out, this and that are different"... which is really going to help me in disability evaluations, because I've met a lot of lay people who are convinced that if you don't drop from a standing position it's not "real." All because somebody made a whump reference post for writers, and tagged it what it was so I could find it. And the thing is, there's already a dedicated "space for community things," it's called the actually tags, and it's why they exist. #actuallydisabled #actuallychronicallyill I use these all the time, and you know what? No fandom content. This is a total and complete non-issue. When this shit takes over your life, in my experience, you've got two options for what to do with the spoons you're left with. You can reach out, connect with people, find something you can do to counteract how the world treats you and feel human again... or you can sit around trying to make everyone else as miserable as you are. I choose Door #1.

[foxgirlmoth]

I don't talk about this stuff on here pretty much at all, but a past relationship really broke a ton of bits and pieces of my brain and heart in weird ways (I'm finally thinking about him almost never but the shit he pulled was abusive as hell and still affects me sometimes). Being in love with my current girlfriends for a while felt almost. Painful? Almost like I should be ashamed I can fall so deeply in love with people, and especially how quickly that can happen sometimes too. Thats how it kind of felt. I tend to get overwhelmed with emotions if I'm feeling them very strongly, and that has been extremely embarrassing and also felt almost like I was being a burden to those I love (which love is the main emotion that can 'get dialed up to 11' for me). It IS debilitating in some ways!!! It hasn't gotten bad enough I've been nonverbal in a really really long time but that happened this past week and it was wild to me.

Things are getting better now though! Therapy in the past has helped, and honestly having such patient and understanding partners has made a world of difference ;w;. my wife is someone who was one of my best friends and I had a huge crush on and now I can ask for cuddles and we can nap together and I've fallen so much in love. Her and her presence are literally heaven for me, I don't know if anything has ever made me happier than just laying next to her and feeling her warmth.

Worries of course flare up and I feel like I need to lean on her a lot during those moments, but I don't feel like too much of a burden to her. I love seeing the posts that say stuff like 'Its okay to be a burden' or 'its okay to be annoying' because really truly I think I need to be those things to survive sometimes. I can be 'a lot' and I can be a little bit obsessive and those things aren't inherently bad or evil of me. I just make sure I'm feeling okay during and after and make sure I'm checking in on myself often. I'm a bit of a broken girl, but that doesn't mean I'm not extremely happy and living a life I love. I've written poems and everything about how it feels like it must hurt to love me and my broken jagged edges, but hey, even if it does a little bit, it doesn't mean someone like my girlfriend/wife won't go through a little bit of burden to love me, and I'm more than happy to return all of this and more for her as well if she's ever in need or feels broken ;^;

[giantkillerjack]

It helps me to think about caring for myself like I think about caring for a child.

Like, 'yes, I know you feel fine, but I think you've watched enough scary things before bed. Let's watch something nice now, okay?'

[mac-n-cheese-flavored-arson]

I got harassed by a cop today because I was pushing myself in my wheelchair in the road because the sidewalk is physically impossible for me to use in a wheelchair in my city (no curb cut outs AT ALL on extremely tall curbs) and he told me that if I got hit by a car it would be my own fault and I'd be legally liable for it, I genuinely fucking hate able bodied people AND cops

[gachaparadise]

ahhh the Penacony leaks are really coming in now.

*chuckles* I'm in danger.

[solradguy]

I came to terms with the Sol kinnie thing months ago now because honestly who gives a shit, but every now and then I'll find myself in a situation where I wonder if whatever it was I was about to do was/is a pre- or post-Guilty Gear interest lol