#and then lost all ability to deal with it re: myself

[strinak]

oklahoma is fucking with the state version of medicaid (soonercare) and making it a managed care system (??) and it's stressing me out bc only one of the three choices has "we cover this but not this" brochure and re: the brochure they don't cover shit? but also all three are "contracted to provide the same level of care"

[paperstarwriters]

When Things Go Wrong (Feat. Inanna)

I know the larger trend is to lean comedy, but I couldn't help myself lmao. Also oof, the fic ended up with a lot less focus on things going wrong and a lot more focus on repair. Whoops lmao Pairing: Inanna & Reader (Platonic; familial), Muriel & Reader (Platonic, though could also be viewed as romantic)

Warnings: slight angst, hurt/comfort, Reader deals with feelings of inadequacy, Inanna acts a lot like Muriel.

Summary: Inanna had lost her pack once before, but here, she found a new pack with you and Muriel. It's small, but it's hers, and she will do what she can to protect every member of this little pack. So, when things go wrong, she has to fix it.

Vesuvia Weekly Prompt | Masterlists | The Arcana Masterlist Word Count: 4,085

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"And? When it all goes wrong, what will you do?"

When Inanna was a pup, she would have flashed her teeth in a terrifying snarl, gnash her jaws and howled her answer: "Fight! I would fight, I will fight!" But that is the bark of a child, of a pup, though she knows many grown wolves who would yowl the same sentiment.

Perhaps she shouldn't treat this as if she was somehow wiser. After all, it is wise for a wolf to solve problems with their fellows in a wolfish manner. The predicament occurs when you're dealing with a not-wolf-pack. Two strange magicians with one that too often loves to leave the pack and explore like an overeager puppy, while the other stumbles around occasionally like a newborn. Of course, then there was the snake, mischievous in the same way their wandering puppy magician was, and yet somehow much worse from their small intimidating size, and ability to slip behind and between and into things, without other people knowing. It's terrifying sometimes to see a snake and fear for your life only to realize it's your friend, covered in mud, intent on scaring you to death.

There were others as well, the tall slim bird-man. who sometimes had the face of a bird with cold unblinking eyes which he could somehow remove and leave on a wall, with his own raven friend who freaked out at the slightest inconvenience. There was the soft one, with her tiny little cat, who blinked and "meep!"ed at random intervals and fascinated Inanna to no end, unless she got angry which made her far more terrifying.

There was the wispy one, dressed in spiderwebs with an owl by her side. Inanna liked the owl, for their conversations, but she could never get around the sight of it turning it's head all the way around to stare her down. She's tried it before, it's very very hard to do, and yet the owl can do it without even blinking. Not to mention how irritatingly silent she can be sometimes as she flies around them.

Ah, but in short, they were an eclectic bunch, and though they didn't stay as closely together as a typical pack would, they were close enough, visiting often and being kind to each other. Especially her familiar, and the stumbling magician-ling. Muriel rolled his eyes at the title she gave you. Magician-ling, as if you were a newborn magician. She knew that wasn't true, but she thought it was a fonder title than, the undead. Muriel certainly seemed to prefer it.

Muriel certainly seemed to prefer you.

She remembers the delight in watching the two of you grow close, how you seemed to open the floodgates of connection and re-established his ability to find solace in a pack, to have friends, to have fellows he could rely on. Perhaps not fellow wolves, but someone at least. After he grew close to you, suddenly he was eating with others, suddenly he wasn't so alone anymore. And neither was she. She loves you for that, for giving her a pack to be with again, even if it was more spread out, and even if there were sometimes where they'd end up alone again, it was a little pack she found herself a part of all over again. Her pack. Her home.

And as you spent more and more time sleeping in their den, sharing Muriel's warmth, and cuddling up with her, she found her delight as a member of a pack of three. Muriel was happier with you to, so, so happy as his face grew soft, and his smiles grew wide, and when he did his chores, or wandered through the forest, you would sometimes jump up and delight her in a game, in a chance to chase, and jump and throw and catch, and sometimes, Muriel would join in too, and like a pair of wolves chasing after an agile deer, she would hunt you alongside Muriel peppering your face with kisses instead of bites when they inevitably found and caught you.

It was fun. It was happy. Small as you may be the three of you were a pack, which was why she had to fix this.

She knows why it happened, why you left so suddenly, and she's ashamed to know she had a paw in your sorrow large and clumsy as she was, she had knocked over your inkwell onto your book. You had been working on that so intently, staying up so late... too late in her and Muriel's opinion. It was the source of so many of your disagreements, and when you found it soaked in ink, all you did was cry.

She didn't mean to. She really didn't mean to. Her tail hit the bottle when she saw you finally taking a break and it just spilled all over the pages. And in that moment, you didn't dare to even look at her.

"Don't follow me," you had told Muriel with a frightening look in your eyes. You didn't say the same to her, though Muriel tried to argue for her to follow regardless.

"They don't want to be bothered," he insisted. "I... I think they just need to take a breather."

She could tell, in the way that familiars could, that more than anything, he wanted to defy that request. Instead, with his dexterous hands, he tries to salvage your work, to clean up the mess that she made, that she's helpless to fix, that she would only ever worsen if she even dared lay a paw upon it.

Still, she had to do something.

Muriel doesn't call after her when she slips out the door. The sound of wood creaking open, the sound of it slamming shut after was unmistakable, but he says nothing, despite that deep connection that would have allowed her to hear him despite the distance. He's silent, and though her chest pangs at the thought of leaving him in that state, she knows finding you, and fixing her mistake would surely bring you back, would surely fix his mood. So she tracks you down, the agile deer she's caught many times before, following your familiar scent, the familiar prints you leave in the forest around you, and finds you far far far away, crying, and gasping, panicking in that way she's seen Muriel do so many times before.

And in that way she's done to Muriel so many times before, she curls around you, lets you rest your head against her pelt, and quietly speaks, though she knows you can't hear.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to."

You lean into her touch, sob into her fur, and don't accept her apology, unable to understand a word she speaks. Her distress, is visible, is audible and you try to sniffle and pat her but you're too caught up in your own distress to try and console her. He licks at your tears, wiping them away like she's seen Muriel do with his hands, and you giggle at the feeling. She doesn't intend to make you giggle, but she keeps licking over and over again, if only to hear you laugh instead of cry.

"Inanna!" You bat her away, as gently as you can manage, and it pains her to be unable to tell you the same things Muriel does. You sound so sweet when you laugh, so why must you cry? Why cling to the sorrow she's given you when all she wants is to make you smile?

She wishes you could understand when she says how sorry she is.

Still, she curls around you, tucks her head atop your lap, and tries to keep you warm, to keep you company as you struggle to terms with the mistake she's made in you. At the very least, you sweep the tears from her eyes, and you fix her with a sad and tired look, like a puppy denied her mother. A pup denied her home.

Inanna knows she is giving you the same stare.

"I'm sorry Nana," you mumble perhaps in reply to her own sorrow, and she presses her face further against you, agonized at the idea that she has made you sorry. That you feel the need to apologize at all. Was it not her mistake that made you cry? Was it not her mistake that sent you running?

You lean in, and bask in the feel of her fluffy pelt, rubbing your hands against her fur, in that soothing manner that all you humans so loved to do. She basks in the feeling, the soft and tender feeling, and presses herself further into you, as if it would grant her more. It's greedy perhaps, but it seems to soothe you as much as it does her, as tears slowly dribble, then drip to a halt.

And you look to the forest your soul somewhere far away. And you look the spitting image of Muriel before you came into his life.

And she wonders what happened to you, when you made their life better...had... had they been making your life worse?

She nudges her face into your stomach, hoping and praying that you would get the message. She is curious, she wants to hear your thoughts. She does not want you to be alone in whatever suffering she and Muriel had left you to endure alone.

You look down at her, and as if by some miracle you smile and hear her silent plea.

"Do you ever feel like you're not what you're supposed to be?"

And Inanna curses the fates, the heavens and the moon who guides her. Curses that she was given such a wonderful pack to be a part of an eclectic mix of creatures big and small who all share that connection of affection with each other, who, though not often can sit at the same table and eat their shared catch together, and share whatever meal they've caught in their hunts. She curses that she's been given such a tiny intimate loving pack amidst the larger one, and that she is powerless to protect either when she cannot bear her teeth at the problem.

She wishes, again, begs and pleas to the very moon she just cursed that you could understand her once more.

"I do not understand," she would whisper in sad sorry sound "I am what I am and you are what you are, what is incorrect of our existence?"

And you look down at her, and twist that smile into a pitying thing. With a hand on her jaw you rub at your cheek and chuckle as she allows you this minor cruelty, forcing one eye shut, as she stares with the other.

"You're so tame Inanna, so kind. People say wolves should be fiercer, scarier than this. You seem almost more like a dog sometimes."

It's another cruelty that she must allow. If you could hear her, she would bear her teeth, scold you for thinking such cruel terms, as if others' thoughts could make her any less the wolf she is. But you would not hear her words, and you would not know her anger was not at you. Her jaws remain shut, though she could open them to remind you of her nature. And she leans further into your touch, to inform you of the rest of her.

She can be scarier, she can be fiercer, to her prey and any threat, but only a foolish wolf would bear her fangs at a pack-member in need.

"Inanna, did you know me when I was alive?"

She stares once more, eyes turning up to observe you from where she rests in your lap. She knows you now, and you are alive now. Is that not enough?

Again that sorrow pools in your eyes, sags over your shoulders and brings pains to your fingertips as you clutch at her fur. She wants to whimper to whine in pain but her silence is her gift to you, and an urge to listen to more.

She is here to fix, perhaps this is more than her mistake, but she has caused you pain and she wishes to know how to fix it—if she could fix it. The job seems grander and grander with every word that falls from your lips, every twist of your expression in pain and sorrow, and she is left helpless at her inability to talk to you as she so wishes.

"I knew more magic then, right?"

She tries to nod. It's true, before your death you knew far more than you knew now, but then you had seemed so unhappy as well. Wouldn't you be pleased to let go of such sorrows?

"I wish I still knew all that magic."

It clicks then, and she wants to speak. She begs for the ability to speak.

"Asra mentions it sometimes, how I used to be smarter, stronger, more capable."

"I wish I knew more magic too," she wants to say. "I wish I knew how to tell you that you're enough."

"Does Muriel ever mention it? How it would be nice if he didn't have to cover for my clumsiness all the time?"

"I wish I could tell you how much we love you."

Inanna does what she can. She shakes her head furiously, as she's seen you and Muriel do many times before, and she bears the brunt of dizziness that the movement brings. She wants to tell you that you're wrong, she wants to tell you that you are loved, she wants to tell you that to her, newborn as you are, you are just as powerful as the you of that past, that you had magic that your old self never could have reached. You had the ability to bring people together, to make a pack from a crowd of such different animals.

You had the magic to give her a pack again.

A pack of her, you, and—

"Are you okay?"

Muriel! Inanna leaps up, and she wonders at how she hadn't thought of it before. In a manner reminiscent of the day she first truly got to know you, she rushes behind Muriel, forgoing telling him what he needs to do in favour of telling him all that you were suffering alone. Muriel, she knew was clever. He'd know what to tell you, and he could speak for her too.

And yet when they turn to look at you, when she drags Muriel by his clothes yanked from between her teeth, she catches sight of your eyes growing wide, of your brows drawing down and your own body retreating from the both of them.

"Ah, sorry," Muriel tries to say. "I know you said not to follow you, but Inanna sounded distressed and—"

And you looked at her as if she had betrayed you. Hot tears building up on your face as you look away and try to hide, to hide from the both of them, of course, but to hide from yourself, she thinks as well.

"I'm fine. We're—Inanna and I were fine," you speak, around a mouthful of your own flesh and clothes. She can hear the shudder of your throat the warble in your tone, and she knows it is not merely from her keen ears that the sound carries through.

Muriel fixes her with a look, concern worry and curiosity, but when he whispers to her, in a voice only the two of them can hear, he asks her not to tell him. Not right away at least. She knows. She accepts, she never would have even if he didn't ask.

"Nana... Inanna wasn't fine."

You go still for a moment, back straightening, as if you're about to turn, before you burry your face deeper into your lap an attempt to hide more shame. Still the source of your sorrow, Inanna curls up beside Muriel, intent on doing the same.

"I'm sorry," and you sound so, so small.

Was this what he meant? When Muriel once fussed over his towering size. You sound so small, smaller than a bunny, smaller than a squirrel, you sound as if you could be held between her jaws and locked behind her teeth, and if she held you like she held a pup, she would have to take extra care not to bring you any harm.

It sounded like even before starting, she had already failed.

"It's not you," Muriel clarifies, shuffling close to lean against you. He starts with a hand on your shoulder, gives you ample time to shrug it off before he comes in with the rest of himself, pulling you into his embrace, into his affection and care.

And Inanna watches as you relax, suddenly wishing she was more like you.

She is a member of an eclectic pack of many different animals, but one mostly made of humans. Maybe she could take better care of you all if she traded her fangs for a form like yours. If she traded her fur for your skin.

She curls up beside you, trying to amend her inadequacy, and your hand finds her fur, stroking once more, calming even more.

If she can soothe you like this, then perhaps it isn't so bad.

"Inanna wanted to talk to you, but you can't understand what she says."

You say nothing, but you look away from the both of them, and Inanna understands. You still long for that magic so far out of your reach, you still long for the spells that you once had before your demise. She's sorry that she had stood between you and your goal, sorry that she had ruined your hard work to achieving it.

"She says she's sorry," Muriel says, and you sigh, shoulders sagging, as your hand returns to her fur.

"Its okay Nana, it was an accident I know."

"no, no, not only for that," she whispers.

"Not only for that," Muriel says.

"I'm sorry you think that you are lesser now than you were before"

"She says she's sorry that you think you're lesser now than you were before."

"I'm sorry that you think you are inadequate"

"She's sorry that you think you're inadequate."

"I'm sorry that you think we don't love you so much as you are now."

"She's sorry—" and Muriel falters, words dying on his tongue. "Do... do you not think we love you as you are now? Do you think we'd love the you from before... more?"

"It's not.... I know you didn't even really know me then" you try to argue back, but your voice warbles and cracks and though you try to deny it, it's clear the feeling was there. "But I... I was such a skilled magician before. Asra tries not to mention it but.... but I hear it sometimes. In the way that they speak.... they look so sad, so disappointed, as if they're upset that I'm not like that anymore—and I know that they're probably more upset that I've forgotten them," you're hiccuping now, gasping for air, that your lungs deprive yourself of a self harm that mirrors your words, cruel bitter things, where you pretend as if it's foolish for you not to be so hurt. "It's just that... I... I ... It'd be nicer wouldn't it? If I wasn't so clumsy, and if I knew all those spells. I'm sure I knew a spell to understand familiars once, I could've talked to her—I could have talked to you Inanna. And I just... I thought that maybe if I studied a little more I could do it again. That you know, maybe I could do other things too, and you wouldn't need to help me so often.

"I just feel like there's just so many things I can't do anymore. So many things I don't remember how to do, that would be so, so helpful."

And Muriel speaks exactly what Inanna thinks, without a word of encouragement from her side. "Do you think you aren't really helpful right now? Even if you aren't helpful, it doesn't make you any less...wonderful."

With his dexterous hands, Muriel slips your cheek into his palm, cradling your face, as he shuffles around you to make it easier for you to turn to him, to make it easier for him to wipe away your tears, to make it easier for him to tug you into his chest, let you sob into his shirt as he holds you tight. Inanna nuzzles up beside you, rubs her cheek against your shuddering ribs, and though it's hardly the same as the affection Muriel gives you, she hopes you can feel it too.

"You've done so much for me. For Inanna too. You remember how you told me that my past doesn't define me? The same applies to you, you know. You're amazing now, what does it matter how skilled you were before?"

"I don't know," you sob. "But... gods, it still makes me feel like I've somehow failed. Like I've grown worse over time instead of getting better. I should be getting better, shouldn't I?"

Muriel opens his mouth to say something, but grimaces at the thought. Inanna knows. Inanna knows full well what he's thinking, and she speaks for him, before he chooses silence.

"I... um... oh... Inanna says that.... no pup learns how to walk without stumbling, and.... and that no hunt future hunt will be better if the current one is successful. And.... and she says that even if she fails to catch her food, she is no less a wolf. And... and that applies to the both of us."

Muriel's face turns a little pink at the mention, and you turn to look up at him, your own hand coming up to mirror his own, cradled on his cheek. As you ask with your heart of concern, "You think you're not good enough?"

His brows dip though that pink colour doesn't go away. "I should be saying that to you, you know. You already know so much magic..."

"And you know so much about the forest, about life."

Muriel scoffs, eyes growing dark. "I know a lot about ending it."

"And a lot about healing it. Even without magic, you know how to mend wounds so well."

"And even without as much knowledge as before, you know how to do so much." You scoff at his retort, and Inanna buts her head against you, something Muriel is eager to translate. "Inanna agrees."

You roll your eyes, at their shared agreement, and smile. Muriel smiles in turn seemingly satisfied with this outcome, but Inanna is not convinced.

She speaks through Muriel, wagging her tail as she squirms into the space between the both of you, hoping to curl up around both of you and emphasize her points.

"Nanna!" you yelp

"Pfft." Muriel swats at her tail, likely stuck in his face. She doesn't regret a thing, only that it makes him slower to speak. "Inanna, oof, Nanna says that she loves you by the way."

"Both of you. I love both of you."

Muriel stubbornly refuses to voice the latter part. She swats her tail against his face again. "Hey! Okay, okay, both of us she says."

"You are my pack."

"She says we're her pack," and Muriel further translates. "She says we're her family."

"Inanna..." You open your arms, and let her into her lap, showering her with affection and cuddles, hands scratching and petting and fluffing and rubbing. "I love you too Nanna!"

From the side Muriel watches with a small smile on his lips as Inanna peppers you with slobbery kisses, and before he dares lapse into any feelings of isolation, Inanna twists, intent on pulling him into this pile of affection and play, as for the first time in a long time, she shows her love for her family the way a wolf does best.

So perhaps she cannot fix her pack's problems by bearing her teeth. She can fix them with play and affection with kisses, and with help. She's not alone anymore. And neither are either of you.

[mrrightandmrbubble]

I hope you’re doing well XO

Hi, hello, I still exist though my blog upkeep would say otherwise. It's been a minute. That's really sweet that you 1) thought of me and 2) wanted to check in. I start to type up something about last year but keep abandoning it because how do you casually introduce that to people's timelines?

So, yeah, ripping off the Band-Aid (putting behind a read-more in case of triggers):

Someone tried to kill me. Well, not just someone, a now-former housemate who I thought was a friend. I still don't understand what lead to it and I don't know if I ever will, because they swing between "nothing happened" and "but if something did, it's her fault" (the O.J. defense). They were removed kicking and screaming from the house by police, and a provisional APVO was served that night with the provision that they must not come within 50 metres of any place where I live or work. It's already had a few court mentions, which I didn't have to attend, but an actual hearing has been adjourned to my birthday this year (happy fucking birthday to me) upon which I expect i'll be called to give my evidence. Charges include: Armed with intent to commit serious indictable offense, destroy/damage property, intimidation, common assault, and intentional choking. They're pleading not guilty on the grounds of mental health, but pull the other one. They had awareness and intent, and the ability to understand the events and make different choices in real-time - such as putting down the knife and saying to the other housemate who was trying to keep me safe, "The only reason i'm not killing her is because you're here".

They tracked down CC (after i'd shared that shit heap of a situation with them) to try and dig for dirt to use against me. They sent the other housemate messages and accusations through her via text for a few months, until the other housemate moved out and blocked them on everything. Some continued willful actions.

Once the property recovery order was finally sorted, they sent a family member and their partner to collect their belongings, and it became obvious rather quickly that they have not been honest with anyone about what they did. The fact that they refused my initial proposal of having a mutual friend do the collection supports that. Not that them acknowledging it would provide any kind of validation or resolution - they've bent over backwards to avoid taking responsibility for themselves since i've known them. But it's that which worries me re: how the hearings could go. I have to prepare myself for the likelihood that they won't face any natural consequences for their actions. The mentions so far have been more concerned with their wellbeing than mine. I haven't been contacted by anyone in months. If it eventuates that they get to go on their merry way, i'm not sure yet how I would respond.

At least the Department of Justice has been amazing, approving an Immediate Needs Support Package to fund a complete security overhaul for the premises. My GP also referred me to a psychologist while the local Domestic Violence Court Advocacy Service applied to VOCAL (Victims of Crime Assistance League) on my behalf, though nothing's come of that yet. [EDIT: I just called to follow up and they seem to have lost me in the system, which is awesome but they can't all be winners.]

I wasn't seriously injured, thankfully, besides a chunk of my hair being pulled out (and subsequent blood) and cuts and bruises around my body.

As for my mental health, i'm...okay, I guess. That I knew I needed to quickly access support to mitigate development of PTSD probably saved me from being much worse. I had panic attacks and would replay the event like a video over and over for the first few months after it happened. I have occasional moments when I have trouble dealing with it and get real hard on myself, wishing they'd finished me off. But those moments, thankfully, do pass. Maintaining connection with friends and family, as a means of navigating the trauma recovery, hasn't been easy in recent months (will cover it in another post) but in fighting against my old instinct of avoiding asking for help, it serves as a reminder that there are places and people I can still trust and feel safe around. I've basically treated myself like a client and thought, "Ignore the lies your brain is trying to feed you - what would your best self do right now?"

I survived. I'm continuing to survive. That's the big takeaway.

[carrotkayt]

Introduction, rabbit hole, personal note

Personally I've lost sense of what a feeling sounds like. I just know my sight to see the world is veiled by my ambivalence with being a part of it and that feels like something.

What trips me up is the words and phrases all smashed into 90 second videos, interfering with my ability to actually do anything because I'd rather watch than play, an unfamiliar game. All the words we have for brainwashing. Insemination, dogmatic, narcissistic, propaganda shoved down the opticals, spectacle.

The ironic, the hopeful, maybe this will help someone else while they go through the process, now I'm wondering if sharing actualizes what you're doing, and I'm afraid to share. Or if it just contributes to the fog. Discovering that this fog is a smoke filled consciousness echo, saying fix this fix that fix it. Inside a self righteous thunderdome for the entertainment of many, and the first platforms to live stream genocides.

Have you not experienced ego death? OH, its radicalizing, you have to see for yourself then maybe you'll understand where I'm coming from.

Am I being dramatic.

Whatever, I'm bothered.

Bothered by society, bothered by humanity, or the lack there of, fully aware that I'm bothered by my perception but I promise I've seen through others, brightly colored, softly toned, calm stone below the crisp and shallow puddle but still underneath it all, I come back here for a reason.

There's something with our psyche, a bug, a virus, an error alert you can't just hit X. Ultimately I feel like we could at least agree on that. We deal with these popups all day, in many different ways.

Ok ok, scroll past the rabbit hole or read me through

It's intermission during the show and we decide mid conversation to start remembering backwards all the things we had said. And its really fucking hard, like memory is weird enough and now it's being tested? But I really think it's necessary, and arguments are inevitable. And to get past it all we need to be is open with a filter, the rest is just the process, processing, in a perfect mind.

But were not, we don't have perfect minds, we don't live in a perfect world, I haven't been able to re trace a conversation without yelling since the first time I tried when we were like 10 or something.

So what if we're required, to stop and listen, hear the experiences around me, its not just mine that weighs when I'm crying, there are so many of us and we all have our own to share.

Small set backs you re-calculate and re code, continue with the day. Within that we have different understandings of a small set-back.

But harsher road blocks are placed systemically for us to go through together because how the hell can a mind be well, when you have a piece of it brutalizing and dehumanizing itself with its apparently gained power? I know we can do this to ourselves everyday in small ways.

And how are we supposed be okay with this as reality! It's so easy to close your eyes when the worst isn't happening to you. The thing is there's a worse state of being that you just thought of, or you might agree that it's a malfunction to normalize the effects of poison without treating it's sickly condition. A trick of the mind.

We rationalize our misfortunes under the pretense that one is better then one, then dare to say we deserve what we have because of who I am. And who are you?

The child of a mother of a mother of a mother, where do you think I came from?

I'm going to share a corner of grief, because under the screen under the stars under the eye lids and empty hellos, I'm really fucking lonely.

I noticed you in my fear of connection, reconnecting, wanting to connect.

I've deleted, blocked and removed myself from all social platforms at least 3 times, and in just that moment of humiliation erased every number, every face, every voice, every friend that ever existed within a 10 year sphere of community. Which sounds just digital but it showed me how badly I keep in touch. That has something to do with being seen, and everything to do with seeing myself. Why is that so disgusting. 12th house sun? 1st house rising? Probably my Mercury in Pisces, something aspects around and around this deep dark pit and it makes me so fucking difficult to be around.

They tried to teach me but I don't think I understand.

And I think that's what I am most pissed off about. From the age of diapers, according to my mom, I had an expression of no fucking way are you gonna control me. Have charge over me. And with that one moment I became free to destroy myself as long as it was safe.

As long as someone could watch.

As long as someone knew.

And I never got prepared to protect myself.

With all the appreciation and gratitude I owe my parents, and the adults that raised me in tandem, and the blessing of a life I was gifted into, today I still I have to stop myself from blaming every figure that just watched me as I walked myself off a fucking cliff.

I was a kid, why wouldn't anyone stop me. Or why didn't they know? I guess they tried in they're own way, even today the way people help doesn't seem to get though my thick ass skull. So it really is still.. me huh.

Because I knew EXACTLY what I was setting myself up for, it just happened to be rooted in slowly slowly slowly ruining myself, my ambition, my hopes, my dreams, my goal was never to succeed, not in a new smart gifted way it was to ruin myself so I could at least now, finally, have a concrete reason for why I just cant get it done.

And that's going to be a whole conversation about privilege.

Right now I just feel failed by myself and anyone who could have guided me. Even typing I'm thinking fuck! I should take it all back!

And this is the feeling, so maybe to forgive myself and everyone else I have to be okay with this feeling. Because I know things now, and I knew parts then, but I stayed quite, silent, dismissive, and willing to see what would happen. Which sounds a lot like eating the poison.

But I don't know where I am now, 10 years have passed and in a very very strange way, I'm back where I started, with a twist, and it's kind of laughable, and I am maybe enjoying this, but there is a lot, a lot to talk about.

[tomsawyee]

something in the last, like, year or so has completely killed any of my desire to ever interact with A Fandom ever again, and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it--

I used to have a notion that, even if my personal ways of interacting with the media I enjoy on a deeper level never aligned with the “mainstream” of a given fandom, I could still carve out a place to enjoy myself. But the more time I’ve spent in these spaces, the more absolutely convinced I am that they are, despite what they would adamantly insist, generally repellent to critical thinking. And I always knew this, a great deal of us always knew this, but I’ve just. Lost the ability to politely ignore it while I do my own thing, because those people inevitably find the things I make, anyway. And I still have to fucking listen to them. Because they are the majority. And as audiences churn, the core base never learns anything.

As the internet centralizes, actively contributing to this hobby community gets you labeled a Content Creator, and with that comes the mob expectation that you create content. For free. On demand. This exacerbates the perceived social divide between Creators and Consumers. People who don’t actually contribute to the body of work get this idea that they are being forced into an Out Group, when in reality, the In Groups are generally just people who care about the thing more than you and end up making friends because of it. This is particularly obvious in big fandoms. Creators are at the same time perceived as Fandom Elite while also being your unpaid court jesters.

And fandom is racist! It’s so fucking racist, and it hides it in pseudo-progressive, frequently queer language while constantly looping the same shitty excuses for whitewashing and ooc stereotyping and bending over backwards to cut POC out of the picture as much as humanly possible, REGARDLESS of what the original text says. So, so often, I go back into the source material thinking “Am I the one who remembers this the wrong way??” only to find that, no, the fandom presence for a given series will always default to distilling the text down to only its white people, then only its lighter skinned people. Characters of color are props to fandom. There is zero interest in the internal lives and humanity of people of color. Fandom would rather make a white protagonist Ambiguously Tan than pay half a mind to an actual character of color. And if you point it out, you get dogpiled by white queers self-righteously crytyping in your notes. Fandom friends and friendly acquaintances of color I meet are always the first people to burn out and leave, because being here is so consistently hostile. Of course AO3 is 70%+ white. Why the fuck would you willingly put yourself through this?

Despite this, we fancy ourselves a ‘progressive’ subculture because we allegedly care about things like ‘representation,’ a concept that has lost all meaning in a dozen different, equally infuriating ways. The delusions of a Higher Purpose, of fandom as political statement or even activism, are all the more embarrassing under this lens. The pervasive idea that fandom exists to “““fix”““ the silly, dumb “““regressive”““ source material by sanding down every single corner until it is the same featureless sphere that can be effortlessly slibbered down like every other cookie cutter re-imagining that came before it. The idea that professional writers are generally outclassed by fandom writers. Pestering creatives on the bird app worked for Glee, so now every time something happens that we don’t like, it becomes a social media moral crusade that is honestly embarrassing to be even tangentially associated with. I’m not here to change the scope of entertainment, or to keyboard warrior for some fictional characters produced by a multi-billion dollar media company that will never see me as anything but a demographic with a wallet. I’m here because a work made me feel creative. It’s not that deep.

(the more expensive the art is to make, the less likely it is to ever target “risky” smaller demographics! this is why TV and film and AAA games suck so much! if you want more textual queerness, read books!) (or listen to them!) (look up some webcomics!) (enormous media companies will NEVER be beacons of creative progress!)

So yeah I’ve come to accept that me and this world are just. Fundamentally incompatible. I’m never going to like it here, despite really, really trying for half my lifetime. I need to stop trying to carve out spaces for myself, because the percentage of people who legitimately care about critical and creative analysis of art and fiction is exponentially smaller than this community would have you think.

[eyeris-moni]

Lil writing HC treats I wrote for myself a while back! Danya isn't on there since I hadn't introduced her at that time 😔

You should share your OC's answers to the prompts too 👀 I want to get to know y'all's oc's!

Prompt: You do a nice thing for them that helps them a lot:

Raz: You're his new friend as though he's not as clingy as he used to be, he is still WAY to clingy for a normal person's comfort-

Cupid: He thanks you politely and if it's not too much of a bother for him, might do something in return.

Hunter: Would not care and ignores you (unless you are a supernatural being, in which case he would try to end you).

Grin Snatcher: She laughs at your naivety and sends you on your way, letting you live another day.

Fhrey: Remembers it. Takes note. Never forgets.

Prompt: Their attraction and wants in a partner?

Raz: No preference at all - he will emotionally bond with anyone who lets him, especially if they're are affectionate back. However he has in later times found an appreciation for individuals who doesn't just agree with what he says and offers him genuine feedback as they seem to care more about his well-being.

Cupid: Deeply and aggressively pansexual LOL. Cupid doesn't really do romance generally, but this is less due to a lack of ability and more just rarely finding the people he deeply bond with in that way. His ideal partner is probably someone who offers pushback, dynamic conversation and who can absolutely hold their own ground. He becomes more emotionally devoted to those who doesn't seem affected by his ability to draw others in. The type who seems to first and foremost care about having a good, friendship and mutual trust. I don't think he knows his type though.

Hunter: None. He cares for no one. Negative attraction to people.

Grin Snatcher: Gray-ace sapphic?? Not really at all interested in humans on an emotional level though.

Fhrey: Bisexual - prefers people who sacrifices themselves for others and are very loving. Anything that can fill out that void he feels and cure his prior heartbreak is a possible next victim.

Prompt: Traumatized or nah?

Raz: Very! As a treat!

Cupid: Distress? Don't know her.

Hunter: Trauma indicates a level of self that probably no longer is there. There's only a drive to kill and a horrifyingly keen mind. How can you grieve when no sense of humanity lingers? How can you feel impact when you're a corpse reanimated by the lost remnants of the faded past?

Grin Snatcher: She knows what trauma is and is surprisingly good at handing traumatized people, but also she haven't "tried it".

Fhrey: Hard to tell, honestly. By all means, yes?

Prompt: You annoy them

Raz: Raz does get annoyed, but doesn't entirely know how to handle it or deal with it. Tries to distance himself, then comes back because he feels bad for prioritizing himself first and you probably didn't mean it anyway (:

Cupid: Your effort was good, but it is impossible to get under his skin in a way that feels like it has any noteworthy impact.

Hunter: You got in the way of his work or was his target. Time to be eradicated.

Grin Snatcher: Is that a challenge

Fhrey: If you are his target he will "correct you". He can play the long game. If you are not a victim, he will consider whether your death would prove "more annoying" than having you around. Might as well get rid of you and use it as fuel for trauma-bonding with his victim.

Prompt: They're running into an issue that is above their skills to solve

Raz: Stops trying and focuses on something else

Cupid: Shrugs it off and stops trying despite the fact that he probably is powerful enough to fix it. Nothing is *that* important.

Unless it's about his "job". Then he will probably stubbornly force it through.

Hunter: Retreats and re-plans his strategy if the odds are truly against him.

Grin Snatcher: Pushes Slender to fix it if it's important enough.

Fhrey: Gets smarter so it is within his skillset if he wants it bad enough.

[gtzgoblin]

Guys the message here is so important.

If you ask anyone in my family they'll tell you about when I was "thin" or "thinner" or "before I put on all of this weight" or whatever.

Y'know why I was thin? Because my insulin, the medication I need to live, wasn't working right. My diabetes was terribly controlled. I wasn't testing because of the anxiety that came with that, I was going to the hospital once a year and they'd basically go "ah well". My Lantus wasn't working for me like it should, it was wearing off too early, but all people did was increase it, leading to really dangerous nighttime hypos but still with a really high hba1c. But they didn't believe me about the hypos at the hospital because of the hba1c, either.

I switched hospitals and went on an insulin pump once I gathered myself enough to realise I was basically dying and pretty rapidly started to gain weight because I was able to utilise my food rather than have it go straight through me with a side of acid blood. And yknow what a VERY CLOSE member of my family said to me? "That insulin pump is doing you no good, look how much weight you've put on."

Because thin = healthy, right? At least in my family's minds. And they had no idea, and no intention of trying to understand, why my weight was changing and how that related to my health.

Back when I was "thin" I had protein in my urine and developed background retinopathy that STILL HASNT CLEARED OVER 10 YEARS LATER. I had a hypo so bad overnight that I almost didn't wake up. I had no energy and couldn't focus at university (re-sit central) and got so many chest infections I was diagnosed with asthma (I don't have asthma!).

But I was thin.

I am healthier now than I was, even though I've gained a significant amount of weight. I'd like to lose some, I'd like to be healthier. But I was not healthy then, I was barely surviving. To hold that over me is essentially saying I preferred you when you were almost dead because aesthetically, the bones were more pleasing than a bit of a belly. What kind of a message does that give? I'll tell ya: how you look to others is more important than your life.

It. Absolutely. Isn't.

If I'd listened to my family and given back my insulin pump I'd be on 5+ injections per day, with a higher hba1c and far less ability to correct bad blood sugars with a much lower quality of life. Would I be thinner? Who even knows. I left early adulthood and aged like everyone else does. Half of my family (on the side of the main commenter) are overweight. How do I know it isn't genetics? Why are we blaming the medicine and medical technology that keeps me alive for the weight gain and not any number of other things that could be causing it.

Please be careful what you say and how you view others. Even celebrities, because they are people too and they don't deserve to be scrutinised just because they're in the public eye. And we certainly don't deserve to know every single thing about their lives in order to make an informed decision about something as dumb as their recent weight change. But your comment could be the one to tip the scales. And even if they're "wrong" (whatever that means) about their healthy, calling them out won't change that, it just adds to the pressure that might have caused it in the first place and this is what leads to poor self esteem, eating disorders and all sorts of other issues.

People get ill physically and mentally, people experience grief, people experience depression. People go through times where they can't afford food, or the right food. People have to care for others or put things above themselves. People need medication to save (or drastically improve) their lives.

Everyone's healthy isn't the same, and what might seem unhealthy to you could have a reason behind it that's difficult for that person to change/may be deeply upsetting for that person. I've spent years dealing with negative body image and I genuinely think even if I lost a load of weight again (healthily or unhealthily) I'd still find something else to be upset about because it's almost been conditioned in by people who have constantly had an opinion, and felt a right to share that opinion with me, about things I can't really help (my natural hair colour, my teeth, my weight, my bloody glucose sensor at my wedding was an issue for some people because it might dare to show in the photos!)

And anyone who is in this situation rn please be kind to yourselves too. Weight isn't everything. Living with this shit is really difficult, and you're doing great.

[rubywithin]

Guardelia Cloak 2

(Fernie) "I draw" hmm I guess I will go for this, "I summon Amethyst Mage as my ace and use her ability which boosts all my Mage's power when she is summoned as the ace!". It still wasn't enough power....even if I power boost Bronze Mage again Miguel has 2 shields to block both attacks. Each turn a player draws from a shield deck and since he didn't guard he has a defence lead over me! (Fernie) "Bronze Mage will attack your second Lance Statue while Amethyst attacks your ace!" (Miguel) "I won't defend, smart move!" I decided to write down my damage bet's! I went for 3 but he was still yet to use a shield which was concerning. "I summon Twin-Bladed Statue as my new ace and summon an Axe Statue! I then activate Rock Blast which destroys a monster 2 levels below my ace!". -Gulp- I didn't see him going for an effect destroy, he then attacked me and I blocked his ace with Ruby Shield....level 3 monsters had to bet 3 stones minimum!" He had bet 3 on both attacks though so again he took the lead.

(Fernie) "I summon Sapphire Witch as my ace, I use her ability to re summon a former ace mage in the battle line! I choose Amethyst mage and once again I use her ability, I then summon Crystal Witch and activate Crystalized Magic which boosts the power of all gem magic monsters! All three monsters will attack your ace!" I beat 3 on Sapphire, 4 on Amethyst and 3 on Crystal Witch, (Miguel) "I will twin guard Sapphire's attack with two Pillar Shield's, and a Boulder Guard on Crystal Witch!". I assumed he would go all in on defending against Sapphire....it was a tough call between which of my other monsters I should of bet higher on. I ended my turn by placing another effect card, (Miguel) "I summon my third Lance Statue and then activate Battle Cathedral which boosts the power of all statue monsters!". This was bad...but I was prepared to take all three attacks head one! As expected he max bet all 3 attacks and I took 13 damage...."Looks like you are about to lose!". I drew a card....I smiled as it was the one that guy gave me before.

(Fernie) "I activate Crystalized Cloak and evolve Sapphire Witch to Sapphire-Cloak Lula. I then activate her ability and increase all my mage's by the power of a discarded monster and all 3 monsters attack. (Miguel) "I block Amethyst's attack with Boulder Shield, nice try but at most you can only hit me for 10 life!". (Fernie) "Nope, when a monster is cloaked it can deal up to 7 damage and recover 3 stones". It then hit him that between Lula and Crystal Witch I could deal the 12 damage needed to win! (Miguel) "Huh....I see to be honest I have never seen a cloak monster before!". (Fernie) "Yeah it must be some new thing....you better not.." (Miguel) "Relax I will apologize to the guy if I see him again, also guess I will pay for both meals!" (Fernie) "You um don't have to it was just I had to if I lost" (Miguel) "I um want to...the battle was pretty fun and I now know what cards I may have to compete with".

We enjoyed our food and went our separate way's I went back to the guy who gave me the deck! (Fernie) "Thanks for letting me borrow the deck, here" I tried handing it back but he did not accept! (???) "You can keep it, I heard you beat that Miguel kid so it seems well suited to you" (Fernie) "Thank you" ...it suddenly hit me I recognised the guy's voice, he was that Solis pro player. While I was deep in thought he had vanished, I decided to go back home and rest as I felt exhausted after the battle. I convinced myself I hated Guardelia but in reality I missed facing my brother as he was the best player I ever faced. Maybe I should try taking on some of the other players out there!

[sdyuteiaok]

Ah, finally drafted KTK, what a delightful blast from the past. I totally screwed up a couple games, totally threw them away at the last minute, and got robbed of a trophy. I had it in the bag, it was just over, but I stupidly Outlasted my lifelinker guy to prep for a huge lifeswing next turn with my Hydra, which ended up denying me a chumper should that become necessary (it did), and it used up my last white mana, denying my ability to punish an all-out attack with my splashed Crackling Lightning. I lost one because I timed out trying to figure out how to Delve--I woulda blown him out in combat if I got my killspell to fire, but I ended up wasting 5 mana and sealing the game for my opponent. I am definitely re-familiarizing myself with the need to slow down--these old formats reward patience and picking your spots more than modern sets that are just punishing if you don't get out of the gates immediately, so I'll have to keep in mind that just chilling and building your board is sometimes the wisest course of action. I had a good time, but these stupid losses really irked, since I am pretty sure I had them, had I not timed out trying to figure out the interface. But it does recall the nightmare scenario of what it was like drafting this set back in the day--I almost got banned from my shop because my games kept going to time because I played so slowly. I thought I'd beaten that, but maybe it's still an issue I have to deal with, which is ultra rough on Arena since you don't have a total clock, but a rope for quicker game-ending. I hope I can pull it together now that I have some familiarity with the delve interface and the format in general, but I'll always be worried about delve when I have another spell I want to cast later, too.

[spacedkitty]

Mushroom Rambles on Being Trans...

I got real high on some mushrooms and went on an emotional roller-coaster that I just kind of ramble-vomited into a drive document a few months ago...

Figured I'd throw it up here because I genuinely like how it turned out. Though I will say there's a bit of... frustration... with the roles pressed on men.

Anyway, it's all below the cut if you care to read it. I'll warn you it's long though, but I find it compelling in re-reading it.

It's incredible how you can feel so isolated from people, yet in moments like this not help feeling a deep connection with everything

It feels almost impossible for things not to sound profound to me right now.

Even the purposeful lack of structure can entice that feeling, so lacking in any real form, as a mocking caricature of purpose itself. It becomes a parody of itself by dint of the very simple purpose for which it was created.

Anti-humour, or the structure of how it's put together.

Gods, following this thought train right now feels like trying to explain an AI's thought-tree, it's constantly evolving as I go and I honestly have no idea where it's going to get off, it could be here or there or anywhere and I fucking love this.

How did I not know of all this shit? Why did I keep myself from experiencing it for so long?

I feel so free about drugs now, but I didn't before. This is a new thing.

It feels like I have to justify it to myself constantly. It's so weird to hear those PSAs and comments my mother would say about people. About how folks in recovery would talk about it.

This truly feels exactly like what they said in a way.

It always led to tragedy in those videos. Never a happy ending.

What a load of crock!!

Fuck!

I have to remind that part of my brain that the world that we'd have to return to would be one of frustration, fear, constant pain… all the things I'm dealing with now… and yet… without the hope, without the joy, without the ability to even feel real happiness.

Sometimes it feels like I never felt happiness. Never felt true joy.

I know it isn't true, I certainly did, but every memory from before I transitioned is taunted by pain. It's covered in a grey fog that just smothers the feeling in those memories.

I don't even know how to explain it. How do you communicate to the people around you that you finally see things in all the glorious colours of the rainbow. That when the sunshines it suddenly isn't just… an annoyance. That when the rain comes I can finally bask in it, not hope for it because it's an excuse to stay indoors away from people.

I spent years avoiding people. Spent my whole life doing it. I couldn't handle being around people, just so much going on. My anxiety just ran rampant. The more people the more they expect you to behave a certain way.

I could relax with my close friends. Let my guard down a little, but even then. I think in hindsight I kinda dated Dylan. He probably wouldn't look at it like that now, but like, we talked almost constantly, we knew each other so intensely well so quickly. We spent most days together all throughout the final years of highschool.

He smoked too much, though when I started smoking it stopped bothering me so much. I was really sad when his dad kept being such an asshole.

Gods, I've lost track of so many memories. It makes me really sad honestly.

I can't tell whether the mushrooms are making me play out the emotional hits or they're just lining up super well. Probably the former honestly.

Feels hard to imagine.

Feels hard to imagine things?! Hahaha, what the fuck brain

Gods it's good to feel the way I do right now.

Such a fucking relief. And it only took me lots of drugs to get it!

Though like… there goes the anxious voice "but what if I'm partway through fucking my whole life up huh?"

Well, to that I say, if this is what fucking my whole life up feels like, it's wholeheartedly worth it!

And fuck you for implying it might not be. You sanctimonious little prick. "What if you're part of a bad story" so fucking what if I am? I'm not unhappy now! I was so fucking unhappy before! I couldn't comprehend happiness like this. Everything was tinged with pain. With an emotional hurt that I couldn't name or see. 

Like having an iron nail embedded into your skin. All the time it's there there's a dull ache and each time you bump into things it makes itself known.

Actually it's more like a splinter you can't see or pinpoint. You're mostly used to the constant pain of it, but every time you move juuuust so, it gets incredibly painful. You still can't see it, you don't know what it looks like or just exactly where it is, so you poke at it a few times and eventually give up figuring it'll work itself out eventually, and maybe you'll be able to pick it out then. Until then there's no point keeping your mind on it, but it's still there, aching and twinging away. You may keep a wary eye out to prevent it bumping into anything.

Soon it slips into your unconscious, becoming less pressing but still aggravating. A constant silent damper on you until the next time you inadvertently bump it, when it jumps to the forefront of your mind.

Over time you're haunted by it. This constant pain that you can't get rid of. Suddenly everything is bumping it, it's sharp stabbing jolts constantly feeling like they're tearing you apart. It's driving you mad, and so you dig again, even though digging has only made that feeling worse… you know if you keep digging that damnable thing will come out one way or another.

And it does!

And with it, your world shatters…

…The life you've built crumbles in your hands.

…The wife you had weeps in your arms, hoping one day she'll see you change your mind, but being glad in her own way that she's no longer tied to you.

…The child you have, still so young. She sees only your happy moments. You can't let her see the tears you wipe away as your world burns around you. You won't have long with her before you're parted. In your heart you're pretty sure it's what her mom and everyone wanted. Well, if you can't just "forget the whole thing" anyway. "Just smile and be a family" right? Doesn't matter how much you have grown to despise one another, you're supposed to cling together anyway? That's how you're supposed to do it.

"Can't you just be… you know… a drag queen?"

No.

Gods above no!

Gods fucking below NO!!

I'm not a fucking man.

I never fucking was a man!!

I was never EVER a man…

Whether people like you accept me as a woman… I don't care anymore. Beyond legislating my body, I don't give a fuck what you think of me.

I'm so fucking tired of being judged and weighed and measured. I'm so tired of feeling like a fucking show pony. If I wanna look like a fucking clown, I FUCKING CAN!

You held power over me for so long, I refuse to give it back. I don't need you to care, I don't need you to even know, but I still wanna fucking tell it.

It might have detonated my life, but fuck if it hasn't made me so so so much fucking happier with my life!

It's given me the space to be myself.

If things hadn't been so restricted in my life, I might have simply expressed myself far sooner. If I'd known what it could all have been, I'd have jumped at the chance I'm sure, but at the end of the day, I didn't have that knowledge.

It's never clear what thing will shake it all free, what makes the pieces land together. For me it was the birth of my daughter. The pregnancy leading to it as well.

It had been coming for a while though. I spent a lot of time in trans related subs "being a big ally".

I'd seen trans women in porn early on. When I was a teenager, I'd found it then. Heck, my mother had a collection of magazines that comprised a huge "encyclopedia of sex" or something like that. In there was where I saw a trans woman for the first time.

I spent a long time looking at that section.

If I'm completely honest, masturbated to it too. I was a teenager, dunno what to say.

Years later I looked it up. Found a number of videos, photos, etc. Grew rather fascinated with trans women. Started being so intensely interested in them as people. I came up with a million justifications in my mind like "I love it being obvious that you know when your partner is feeling pleasure", "I have a dick so I know what'll feel good for her as well", all so I could tell the men around me something if they ever caught wind.

It's something I'm more than a little ashamed of, those gross mental justifications, but they are what society pressures you into thinking.

It pushes men to see women as sex objects. Pushes them to treat women as such even if they don't. It pushes a complete lack of empathy. It's about justifying your place. You've declared yourself and you're supposed to be willing to back it, so you are deserving of the space. Those less able to declare themselves are relegated to the fringes.

Men are pushed to think of themselves first. Pushed to think of everything as a competition. Every man around them is always pushing them to compete. Competing is how you measure yourself right? How can you have empathy if all you know is competition. Winner takes all. So you've got to be a winner right?

Gods what a shit way to live.

Even if you try to stop, try to step away it's just… endless taunting, shaming, bullying. Men use femininity as a curse. The only ones who don't are those trying to actively step out of the rat race or those who use it as a gimmick.

I had a beard, one I'm honestly still proud of. One I'd maybe wear again if people wouldn't call me a man for it. It was big and bushy. Red like fire in the deep coals of a just barely burning log. I loved that beard.

It saved me from so much harassment. So much taunting. That and my sheer size. 6'2" and chunky. I never really needed to fight as everyone looked at me and decided it wasn't worth it. At least amongst the lot I encountered.

I was pretty stoic too, which gave me extra points. Most men looked at those 3 things and decided I was man enough as long as I didn't do anything too fruity. As long as I drank a vaguely beer shaped thing and didn't make them question themselves too much, I was ok in their book.

But gods… how is that any way to live?!

I guess I can sorta "exist" as a diluted, stale imitation of a man. Like watered down mayonnaise left in a cup overnight.

Or I could be me! Shed the bullshit unspoken rules, the invisible shackles of manhood.

…To a different set of invisible shackles! Or so society would have it.

And like, they are pretty, all fluffy and pink…and I am into bondage…

…But no.

No.

Fuck that. I wanted to be my fucking self here. Not some imitation of the bullshit system.

I didn't just want to switch sides, I wanted to escape the system. I'm not gunna replace one set of bullshit rules for another just because they're pink.

People spent my entire life quietly telling me I was unacceptable. That who I truly am is unwanted. That who I truly am is the laughing stock. You think I'm suddenly going to switch in a way that makes those people happy?! Fuck that noise.

Why the fuck should I care what they think when there are people out there who care about me for me. For who I am as a person. Where I don't face constant criticism, constant forced competition, constant belittling talk.

It's telling that one of the few people from my old life I keep making an effort to speak to is a friend of mine who I helped figure out was trans. She's a real gem.

It's still funny to me that so many of my friends were gay. Gay dudes, but still. I had weird feelings towards being friends with women, thanks to an incident when I was around 11… or was it later?

I was friends with some girls from down the road. We were having a sleepover at their house. We'd played with dolls. The memory gets a little fuzzy, I think we had a pillow fight and their parents got weirded out. Although now that I think of it maybe they'd decided to flash me? I don't think their parents saw that part, though it'd explain it better. I just remember being kinda uncomfortable.

The parents decided they didn't really want me around so much anymore. They got quite frosty with me from what I remember.

At the time I didn't understand why. It felt like an innocent sleepover. My mother explained to me how they saw it and from that point onward I was petrified girls would see me as pushy or creepy if I tried to be their friend.

Left lifelong scars for me in truth. The assumption that I wanted to do things I didn't. That I wanted to pressure girls into things. That’s just how "boys" are right? It ate me up inside knowing that people expected that of me.

Truth is I just wanted to be friends. I wasn't looking for more.

That cut me off from the people I wanted to socialize with. I pined after them, in both friendship and love. Had crushes on the kindest girls, the ones with personalities that filled the room and looked at me with genuine smiles. In truth I wanted to be their friend more than anything. Or more accurately, I wanted to BE them and be their friend.

When television and my peers were filled with stories of the dirty things men wanted to do to women, my daydreams and masturbatory fantasies were filled with visions of gentle caresses, dappled sunlight, lengthy foreplay, long passionate kisses, and my head between their thighs.

It's apparently a wild thing to admit your favorite thing to do to a woman is pleasuring her, when you're a 15 year old boy. Not that I'd had any experience at it.

Oh, most boys say they did. Purely confident in their ability to please women, while making it really apparent they never had.

Gods, I remember being friends with a guy purely cause he called that shit on people all the time. I also know he got around a fair bit, cause he was the only one our age that seemed to give a shit what their partner wanted. And he looked pretty good honestly.

Watching men's egos wilt when being called out is one of my favorite things. Though they almost never let it get to them unless it comes from someone they see as above them or as a peer in the social ranking. Otherwise it gets the defensive reaction of someone having the foundation of their carefully constructed personality picked at.

It comes down to how effective you are at declaring yourself.

If you shout loud enough, then you're right. You're in constant competition and the ones you care about impressing are the ones with more social power. If you shout loud enough then the ones below you have to agree. That's how it's supposed to work.

You're supposed to have power over people, that's what a man is right?

Gods I’m glad I don’t have to be any more…

[lone-wolf-no-more]

"This path looks familiar...because I've already been here!", Or "Backtracking doesn't make you a failure."

There's that scene from The Return of the King. You know the one, at least I HOPE you do, and you're not one of them "dern Millennials" who never took the time to watch The Lord of the Rings, but know *gags* all the lines from the Twilight movies by heart. Sorry, there could be a legitimate reason you haven't seen it. Anyhow...in this scene, Frodo and Sam are trying to find their way into Mordor, and they're getting lost in a misty haze that obscures everything, and makes everything look the same. Because, as you know, one does not simply...now, if you haven't watched the movies, I'll forgive you, but surely you know the end of that sentence.

So, because one does not simply walk into Mordor, they are lost, walking in circles. And this isn't some "over the river and through the woods to Mordor we go" kind of deal.

They have a very clear, very important mission. And they soon find out that the only way they can finish it, is to put their trust in someone they would never dream of trusting otherwise, and going places their "old self" would be scared to even think about.

In this moment of being lost in the fog, and in the time leading up to this moment, they had so many seeming "missteps" and wrong choices and errors. But that didn't make their mission any less important, nor did it make them a failure. Not knowing what to do next at any given moment in time doesn't make YOU a failure, doesn't make ME a failure.

And I've had to tell myself that so.Many.Times the past few months. It's having the ability to tell yourself to forget about what you could've done differently. Sometimes, things literally HAVE to happen for you to learn, and learn better. Things HAVE to happen for you to be prepared, for you to know yourself better: your strengths, your weaknesses. Having to pivot or change course, or (in my case) drop things at least for a time that you've been working on for awhile doesn't make you incompetent. If anything, it takes true strength and insight to know when you need to lay off and focus in more on less. And that concept directly ties into my previous post.

In my zeal and desperation to "get ahead" as quickly as possible, I found that I was trying to do to much at once. I was trying to build the walls and the keep, and dig the moat around my castle, all at once. Here's the problem. That's literally impossible!

And not only have I had to learn that less can in fact be more, I actually find myself making more progress because of it. And like Frodo, I've been trying to bear this burden by myself. I can't, no more than he could. He needed allies and friends around him to protect him and help him on his journey. So do I. And so do you, and don't you forget it!

Now, from today's journal entry:

Today was alright. Got up around 8:30, because it was a trading day. Trading didn’t really go well. In line with what I said in the above entry, I’m finding that I’m splitting up my attention far too much instead of staying laser focused and getting good at trading.

Discord trade chat while actually trading, not a good idea. I’m not going to watch it from now on, because it’s distracting and confusing me, and as somebody said to me, things happen quickly, and I need to be ready to take advantage of them.

So that means I need to re-asses what my morning trading routine is. That is, what levels do I need to mark up and watch, what is my entry plan (being pro-active, instead of trying to decide on the fly after the market opens and starts to move), and what is my exit plan.

In the broader picture, I’m putting other projects on hold, and doing more “outsourcing”, so to speak.

Doing more bot trading while I learn how to trade manually. No more manual live trades until I KNOW I’m ready. And in the meantime the bot will do some work for me, which will take pressure off me to try to “get gud” fast.

Here’s hoping it’s not too little, too soon. There’s that nasty word still hanging in my head: eviction. I haven’t completely abandoned the hope that reason and the gift of more time will win out in the end. I do know it can’t hurt for me to have more to show for my effort as that date draws closer.

Still doing mindfulness, still trying to get up out of my chair and move when I can during the day, still sticking with the same food, still following all my parameters for sleep, entertainment, etc. And here I am, still journaling and posting. And best of all: my sibling is still on my side, every step of the way, doing what they can to assist me.

Can’t give up. WON’T give up.

Todaloo.

[iammionmi]

Don't you look at me in that tone of voice!

Firstly, for anyone who caught yesterday's little offering.....hi! I made it, here I am, Mrs Consistency in the making!

Just needed to get that one out there before diving into musing on a topic/subject/lesson which has been preoccupying me for some time, namely acceptance. Outrageous Acceptance.

I know, I know....but please don't look at me like it's a dirty word, because as uncomfortable as this one is, it can be all the difference. It can be the deciding factor in one's future, one's happiness, one's ability to face the world and keep going.

The problem is that acceptance is one of those character traits that is developed by, well, by enduring those 'character-building' trials and tribulations that make acceptance necessary!

....which means that the development of OUTRAGEOUS ACCEPTANCE has necessitated a whole load of unacceptable things to happen in my life to teach me depth upon depth of how acceptance goes.

and in my opinion that sucks. big time! What perhaps sucks more is that my reluctance to accept certain things in my life has only prolonged the misery and that if I had maybe managed to integrate this life lesson in a more timely manner, I wouldn't be sitting here having just turned 40, once again reassessing the derelict landscape following my previous attempt at building a life being razed to the ground. yet again.

You see, I have been here, or somewhere like it more times than I care to think about.....there is far too much to go into and this list is far from exhaustive, just to give you a flavour of my adult life really....from my first domestic violence relationship when I was 17, having my first child born 12 weeks premature due to the violence within that relationship at 18 all the way through failed marriages (3), depression, PTSD, loss of career due to an accident at work injuring my back, domestic violence again 2017-2020 where I was kept in sub human conditions like an animal, and yet again 2021 a brief but terrifyingly violent relationship which also cost me thousands through financial abuse, I have lost my house, my car, my money, my career (debatably my sanity!), am still awaiting CPS clearance to prosecute my ex for the violence in 2021, have had businesses fail, every attempt to re-invent myself or better myself has come to nothing, have had various health complications to deal with and have single parented for most of the 21 years I have been a parent and I have never been an adult without being a parent (my first child is now 21, my two at home are 10 & 11),now suffer from complexPTSD and other trauma issues ....and that's just a fraction of things. I used to drive myself to distraction with how unjust and unfair it was that i was just having to repeatedly suck up things that were unacceptable. That no one would be ok with.....because they're not OK.

SO what's with the acceptance thing? I have been told repeatedly that acceptance (much like forgiveness) is not saying that what happened is OK......so why does it seem like that's pretty much EXACTLY what is being asked of oneself if one is to accept unacceptable circumstance or incidents.

but it's not. I know that now....and this is what makes the kind of OUTRAGEOUS acceptance i find myself practicing today, possible. Acceptance is not saying that what happened is OK. It IS saying that It Happened.

It Happened. That is the reality, nothing and no one can ever change that no matter how much I, or anyone else, may want to. Nothing can make it better because nothing can make it not have happened...i may have ideas of what I think might make it more bearable, might fantasise about how things might have gone, or how a need for validation might be met to help with closure, but nothing can change that it happened. that didn't stop me putting a whole load of time and energy into doing anything and everything I could possibly think of to try to make things be different....or at least not allow them to be real.

sometimes there is no closure, sometimes there is no validation, sometimes it really is a total loss. sometimes all that energy and upset has to be reabsorbed within oneself, and one just has to sit with it. to keep on sitting with it.

in those moments outrageous acceptance is born. acceptance that all that is is, and all that is not is not. no attempt, no desire even, to try to seek relief through the validation of others/the justice system/sweet revenge.

Just a deep knowing that what will come, will come; that what will go, will go: and that after it all I will still be.

...and that will do for me.

[lunarvalleysbetterplanet]

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. Winter is my favorite time of year, despite living in Florida where it barely even drops below 60 degrees. I've always found all the lights and the music very comforting. My favorite Christmas movie (Elf) and hot cider with twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. Family dinners with kids running around. Sitting around a bonfire laughing with friends and drinking wine. Even Christmas eve service added to that sense of holiday joy. Singing Christmas carols and holding a candle. It wasn't necessarily the religious aspect that gave me joy, but more the community of it.

I spent from the time I was around 8 years old until 18 heavily involved in church. Then, it was much sporadic. I'd go through religious phases that would last a few months before I'd give up and return to my actual self. In July of last year, I fell into one of those spirals and for some reason, it was much worse than usual. It lasted an entire year for starters. I joined a reformed Christian church, got re-baptized (for the first time as an adult, third overall) and just fully jumped into living the most pious, devout lifestyle I could. It took a full blown mental breakdown to snap me out of it.

Christmas during this time last year was easier than ever. I was more palatable and tolerable for most of my family. I was forcing myself to agree with whatever the Bible said, including what it says about women. I spent a lot of effort trying to force myself into the ideal version of a woman. Softer, gentler, less passionate and less sarcastic. I tried carving out all of my queerness. I lost everything that makes me lovely. I was reading the Bible for literally hours and hours a day. I wouldn't listen to "secular music" and I basically stopped engaging any media that wasn't Bible approved. I went to small group, bible studies and ladies events. I served in Children's ministry. I was busier and more social than I've been in years.

And I was numb. I was disassociated because I didn't want to face that I was depressed and miserable. I gained a lot of weight. I nearly ruined the relationships with my sister and best friend who were watching me turn into a person I would have hated. But god, Christmas was easy. No arguments over politics or me being too much. My family was overjoyed to see me back in church.

Fast forward to June of this year. I have my first of three mental breakdowns. Things had not been good since like January. I was struggling and taking that as a sign I was being #theverybestchristian because the Bible says we are supposed to suffer for Christ afterall. I struggled and struggled. Cried constantly. Prayed till I was blue in the face. Upped my daily Bible reading. Until I had one second where I was sitting in my house and I looked around and said audibly to myself "What the fuck have I done? Who am I?"

And after that mental breakdown, I tried to plod on. I'd done irreparable damage to my ability to pretend I was happy or that things were okay. July I have another minor breakdown. Then August I have the big one. I am nearly unfunctional in my mental breakdown. It's triggered by me googling about spiritual drought. I start to google why I would be having these religious phases. I know it's over now. I come across a tweet and it rocks my entire world.

It had literally never crossed my mind that others go through this. I realize I do have a ton of religious trauma. I text my therapist and start going regularly again. I deconstruct, fully and actually work through why I was so afraid of hell. Why I believe what I believe. I deconvert. I realize I will no longer be a Christian. Not even a backslidden 'I'm not dealing with this but I'll come home later' one. I won't have the crutch of prayer.

Now, I am clearly dealing with some shit. My depression is raging. My house is a disaster. I've pulled away from my family because I know how they are going to take this. (They do not take it well)

I am not okay. I am working on healing. But, for once in my fucking life and I am letting myself actually work through all my trauma. I skipped Thanksgiving. Sat alone and got high. Ordered Chinese and cried, a lot. I won't miss Christmas because I love it. I have always loved it. It's gonna hurt like a motherfucker though. The soul aching loneliness that I am dealing with both from the loss of religion and the fact that I am alone. I have very few friends, no romantic prospects and being with my family is so complicated. I am so lonely it hurts physically in my chest. I find myself crying quite frequently. I am leaning into this.

I put on my 'Make the Yuletide Gay' playlist and make hot chocolate. I read holiday themed fan fiction and cry. I will go look at lights, the only single person amongst my family. I'll put up my sad little artificial tree and watch Elf with my cat. I am getting better. I won't lose the genuine love I have for this time of year.

[ritapstory]

Life Starts at the Sky

Is it really that hard to let go,

Of course it is.

If it was that easy you’d easily see people grow,

And you’d see the entire population in bliss.

What do you see when you look into the world?

A bunch of hurt people hurting people.

Got you feeling like the only girl,

Failing to realize that, that girl also has a sequel.

Just because you hurt someone,

You have the ability to change.

You have the ability to hold onto a loved one,

But if you don’t let go it may feel strange.

Spirits ability to give us what we desire is on us,

All we need to do is let go.

We can turn negatives into a plus,

We just need to elevate from our lows.

This means take a walk, ground yourself,

Clean your body so you can think clearly.

When you’re in pain ask for help,

Please don’t wait; take care of that shit early.

Trust me, I lost myself by not dealing,

In that process I lost my wife and almost my life.

If you don’t deal with all your feelings,

Trust me it will hurt, you’ll want to jump off any height.

Not dealing with my past of abandonment,

I projected that shit onto my wife.

I let my darkness swallow us whole like a catalyst,

I let my anger control my life.

I focused to heavily on the effects,

My ass forgot what was the cause to it all.

It’s easy to lose yourself without taking these steps,

Sometimes it’s too late and you only realize it after the fall.

Crossroads literally came to my front door,

Honestly in my head I was like this is a joke,

Now I have ugly cries as I hit the floor,

My chest feels like it’s having a stroke.

Something that happened before her I am dealing with now,

Please do not wait as long as I did.

I went in with my trauma as I took vows,

Just to realize looking back I acted like a kid.

At 29 I punched my bathroom wall,

Also tried to get lost in this sex game.

Throwing ass back and shots, having a ball,

Because your running from something is not the same.

People think they know what you need,

But in reality baby the key is you.

Sometimes you need your wounds to bleed,

Just so your internal bars aren’t always blue.

Just a reflection in the mirror you have to face,

Does she scare you?

I went for the cocaine; I didn’t care if my weed was laced,

Was my pain really not showing to any of you?

Take a step back and re-evaluate,

What are you allowing into your life?

Just a time bomb waiting to detonate,

Are holding onto toxic traits really worth the fight?

Ladies I know it hurts,

I humbly ask you to surrender.

Beautiful women if you all know your self-worth,

Why do we throw our bodies through the blender?

Chopping that shit up, no one can sit with humility?

Ascension really has me questioning everyone around me.

Noticed my changes have many people questioning me,

Guess my face is showing the tranquility.

Like Jesus this shit was already prophesized to me,

Can’t say I didn’t see this coming.

At the time I thought it was a joke, I wanted that shit hypothesized to me,

Yet the people around me think it’s funny.

We’re not all perfect, but the ego,

We need to let it go.

Popping pills, they’re probably placebos,

We all really just need to grow.

The cosmos are calling us,

Yet some of us disrespect her.

Literally life starts at the Sky,

And we treat everything above that as a blur.

The sky is NOT the limit,

It’s only the beginning.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Leave Through the Lobby | p.p. | Finale

Andrew!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Language, so much love and fluff

Author’s Note: This is officially the first series I have finished like ever. I’m not only super excited but very proud of myself. Also incredibly thankful for all the interaction :^) let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist | Request Here

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Peter wasn’t supposed to fight crime today. He even told the precinct —well no, Spider-Man told the precinct that he wouldn’t be patrolling today. To expect to deal with anything on their own because he had his own “emergency.” Peter had prepared for this day for months now and he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere but in the lobby of his damn apartment.

But no. Oh no. The universe just really hated Peter Parker, honestly.

Because there he stood at the corner of 51st and 8th, watching the Gershwin Theatre go up in flames. And it wasn’t just a little fire; it was a proper arson-being-committed fire that couldn’t be ignored or wait for the fire department to get there. There had been several explosions, one right after the other, that triggered his spider senses and forced him to follow them.

Someone had planted bombs, and they were powerful.

Glancing at his phone’s clock, Peter cursed to himself before he ducked into an unoccupied alley and re-emerged.

He had two hours. It was time to see if he could break his record for fastest crime dealt with.

*****

Ignoring the fact that there was now another asshole dressed as a goblin in New York —aptly named Hobgoblin —Peter was making good on time. He’d managed to find all the bombs, either detonating them safely or deactivating them, within the hour. And he managed to track down the goblin, sort of, to the next target he had. That had turned into a bit of a scrap before the villain had taken off and Peter lost his trail.

“I think this is someone else’s whole gimmick! Peter called out to the new menace, shooting a web to the glider. The goblin wasn’t attached to it, like Harry would have been. When Peter yanked the glider from under the criminal, the only thing that happened was he flew away. Like with a set of wings and all.

Peter sort of just stood there and cussed very loudly as he threw the glider into the ground to destroy it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Determining that he needed to be selfish, Peter decided that would be a problem for another day. Or for the police, at the very least. Peter was a bit beat up, having been punched in the face a couple times and hit with a smaller explosive that went off in his face. Cuts and bruises, maybe, but he was otherwise in tact.

With that thought in mind, Peter snatched his backpack from the alley and made his way home. He remained in uniform, swinging himself through the city. And like so many times before, Peter dropped himself down into the alley outside his apartment, pulled his clothes on over his uniform and yanked off his mask.

And he just like he did almost a year ago, when he first literally ran into her. He walked into the lobby of his apartment. This time, though, the doorman waved at him as Peter sat in the little seating area.

And he waited.

He had timed her arrival from work for a couple weeks now. She got off at 3:30, had three hour rehearsals, and usually got home between 6:25 and 6:30. To ensure he knew, he tried his best to tune his senses to her abilities. While she didn’t use them often, they radiated off her in waves and interacted with whatever caused his senses to work. So when she was nearby, he always knew. It was incredibly handy when she was possibly in danger; or when he was practicing his proposal in the mirror.

Sensing her arrival, Peter hopped up and hurried toward the elevator, pressing the button to ensure it opened. The doorman watched him curiously as Peter entered the elevator and let it shut behind him. He hit floor two, let it go up and open. Then he hit floor one and went back down. Perfectly timed to open as she walked into the lobby of the apartment. The doorman was still watching, brow raised curiously.

She was on her phone, clearly texting someone (he assumed it was him; she always texted when she entered the building), and Peter beelined straight for her. As he got closer, he extended his arms out and caught her by the waist, smiling brightly at her as she gasped in surprise. The paper cup stack from the water jug in the corner slammed against the back of his head as she looked up.

“Peter!”

He looked at the cups as they hit the ground, and the doorman’s eyes widened as he stood up. Peter spun her around though, away from the elevator, with a smile.

“I was just leaving, why don’t you come with me?”

“Peter, babe, your face —“

“It’s fine. Just a scrap with some B-tier criminal. Come with me.”

“We should really clean that…”

Peter didn’t listen to her argue, pulling her along with him as he walked back out the doors. Hanging a quick left, he guided her down the street, towards the diner that they shared their first date. She tried explaining she still had her work stuff, that whatever he wanted to do was fine but she didn’t want to carry it. So he snatched it up himself, slinging it over his shoulder with a bright smile. She was flustered some, but laughed a little, relaxing into whatever his plan was.

The diner was rarely busy this time of day, especially in the middle of the week. It was ideal, and he didn’t plan on going inside anyway. No, while what happened inside was great, it’s what happened outside that changed his life.

Peter stopped short of the entrance, making sure not to block it, and turned on his heel in front of her. She bumped into him, unprepared for the sudden stop, and looked up at him. It was clear she was still confused, but she trusted Peter enough. And she trusted whatever he was up to; she kind of had an idea.

“You know what happened here a year ago?” He asked her, taking her hands in his.

She nodded tentatively, looking around them for a moment. “We had our first date.”

“Technically yes,” he corrected her, a smile forming as he stepped a little closer to her. “What happened here, a year ago, was you made me promise to kiss you before I left for anything. That way we’d always finish our dates.”

“You’ve made pretty good on that promise too,” she pointed out, smiling now as she fully relaxed.

“I have remembered to kiss you every single time I’ve left to save this city,” he corrected again, heart swelling with pride. He felt her squeeze his hands gently, and he returned the gesture. “The night I literally ran into you changed my life.” Her cheeks began to flush, and he could tell she was just radiating happiness as he continued to speak. “I have spent the better part of ten years stuck in this…spiral of self-loathing, where I thought I didn’t deserve to be happy. Or that I didn’t deserve to love or be loved. It had been months since I went through the multiverse, and I thought by meeting different versions of myself, of you, I could just…move on but —“

“Wait, what?” She interrupted, staring up at him as she dropped his hands. “You went where?”

Peter suddenly realized he never told her. “Oh, I…well it’s complicated. I can explain after —“

“What do you mean, a different version of me?” She continued.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t how the proposal was supposed to go.

“Please, let me get to my point —“

“Peter, you travelled through the multiverse! When? How?” She demanded.

Caving, and giving up trying to finish the moment that was now ruined, he ran a hand through his hair. “Last December. It was weird, and stupidly complicated with magic and portals and a wizard who was kind of a dick. But I met two versions of myself —one older, one younger. We saved Max Dillon and Dr. Connors, and that’s how I got the antidote for Harry —“

“You met a wizard!” She yelled out, and the people across the street gave her a weird look. “And you met me!”

Peter shushed her, waving his hands in front of her face to quiet her down. “She wasn’t necessarily you-you. Just a version of you. She was her Peter’s best friend and I saved her from dying. It was her that made me realize I…I needed to know you. My you.” She stared up at him in utter shock, processing everything he had said. “Can I…can I keep going?” He whispered, putting his hands in his pockets as his heart started to pound in his ears.

She hesitated for a second before she nodded finally.

Peter took a deep breath, trying to recreate the moment he had before. “Okay, uh. Like I was saying, I-I thought I could just move on. Get over it all. I couldn’t though —but I could change my routine, just a little. I started to leave through the lobby of the apartment. Which was the stupidest change but it was the easiest change I could make.” He looked down for a moment, taking one more breath. “Even when we danced around not knowing what we were, I think I always I knew I loved you. But when Harry dropped you, when you were stuck in the hospital because of me —“

“It wasn’t your fault —“

He ignored her though. “You asked about me. You asked how I was, even though you were the one in pain. And that’s when I knew you were the one.”

Peter pulled his hands out of his pockets, the velvety box obscured in his hand still. He was shaking some, and took one more grounding breath as he kneeled before her. Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth to keep from gasping.

“I wanted to marry you that night, and I have been carrying this ring since then. Seven months, waiting for this moment. And now I just need to know —Y/N, will you marry me?”

Peter opened the box and she gasped finally, nodding frantically. She didn’t even look at the ring though; she didn’t need to. Her eyes were trained on Peter as she dropped down to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him tight. Peter gripped the box a bit tighter but wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close against him.

“God. Yes. Absolutely, a million times over. Yes, Peter Parker.”

He stood, pulling her up with him as he lifted her from the ground and spun them around. When he sat her down, he took her hand, pulling the ring out of the box. Her hand trembled from excitement and overwhelming joy as he slipped the ring on her finger. Tears were in his eyes as he took her face in his hands next, looking down at her.

“I love you so much,” he whispered as he pulled her into a deep kiss.

Peter’s hands dropped from her face to her hips, pulling her flush against him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Nothing was there to interrupt them, for once, and Peter took full advantage as their mouths moved against one another, savoring every second they had.

Pulling away to catch their breaths, she rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes. Tears, stained with mascara, spilled over her cheeks. Peter kissed her nose, and her cheeks, and then her lips one more time before he finally settled down.

Thank god he started to leave through the lobby.

———

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Taglist: @likeahurricanee @kitcat072 @twsssmlmaa @mellxander1993 @clairethereader

[useyernamesteven]

(Needed some goofy fluff to distract myself from the angst im writing so buckle up, its long. Based on that one post I cannot find so if anyone can help a homie out, much appreciated)

Raya/Namaari Accidental Marriage Proposal

Its not a far stretch to assume that the different tribes have different practices and rituals. And given the 500 year gap in communication its also easy enough to assume that the tribes don't know about each others differing customs.

For example: marriage proposals. In Tail its as cut-and-dry as asking. Talon people propose with rings and jade coin. When you propose in Spine you chop down a tree to show your commitment and strength.

The Fang propose with blades. Fang people love their knives, daggers, spears, and other pointy weapons, so if you want to ask someone to marry you, you do it with a blade.

I like to imagine it'd be because offering a blade to someone- who isn't family -is the equivalent of trusting your life to that person. I like to think the Fang value not only a person's strength and honour, but their ability to care and protect their people. So giving a blade to your chosen love is like saying, "I'm giving you this weapon because I trust you with my heart, literally and metaphorically".

But again, 500 year old divide means others have no clue what giving a knife to someone from Fang entails...

So maybe its been a few months or so after the Druun have been vanquished. Raya is still re-learning how to be a 'princess' while playing liaison between the tribes, with Sisu as her partner in crime. She likes it because she still gets to travel and she gets to see her new friends from the other tribes: Boun's business is booming, Noi has started talking, and Tong has become the new Chief of Spine.

Then there's Namaari.

Six years of playing cat-and-mouse together (or rather angry kitten and homeless puppy) can be hard to overcome. At first it was a struggle. And incredibly awkward. Namaari, too guilt ridden over what she'd done, and Raya, still angry and socially stunted, could barely hold a conversation together.

Eventually Raya, fed up with the weird awkward talk, dragged Namaari to Fang's training grounds and challenged her to a sparring match. And only when it was over, the both of them exhausted and laying on the ground, did they start talking, actually talking. About what happened with the gem, with Sisu, what they can't let go of, not yet, but what they hope they can move past one day.

It made things after easier because it was familiar ground for them, but it also opened up new paths too. Now in the months since they saved the world and having spent that time working together, Raya would like to consider Namaari a close friend.

Which is probably why she's so surprised when Namaari off-handedly mentions her birthday is next week. Namaari, who's less than thrilled about her mother's plans for a big celebration, doesn't even notice how much Raya's caught off guard. Namaari doesn't really care for her birthday, much less when her mother makes a big deal about it, but she still brushes her hair behind her ear when she asks Raya if she's going to attend.

Raya recovers, nudging Namaari saying that she's obviously going, and boasting about the amazing gift she's going to bring.

Which then leads to her dragging Sisu to Talon in search of the perfect gift (Sisu being the only 'person' she knows who can help being that she's a master gift giver... Sisu's words, not Raya's, but still). They run around Talon for ages, with Sisu practically buying everything in sight (with the Heart Palace Credit of course) but Raya can't find a single thing she thinks Namaari would actually like.

And then she spots a Fang vendor selling blades.

The woman is nice and she asks Raya if she's looking for something in particular. Raya says she wants to get a dagger for 'someone special' from Fang (not wanting to rack up the price if the woman knew who it was for, but also completely unaware to what she's just implied).

The vendor seems a little surprised but she easily walks Raya through picking out the perfect dagger for her 'someone special'. Raya ends up buying a pretty, yet functional dagger with a dragon engraved in the blade and an ornate box to keep it in. As Raya's leaving the woman gives her a pat on the shoulder and says, "All the best for the both of you and I'm sure she'll say yes," which Raya can't really make sense of so she shrugs and leaves to go find Sisu and her mountain of trinkets.

So now its the party, and when Namaari said Virana was making a big deal about it, she really meant it. People from all the tribes are attending and Sisu's brought her brothers and sisters and there's music and food and fireworks...

And Namaari stands beside her mother in a beautiful dress that makes Raya's heart thud erratically (it's totally platonic). Her and her Ba walk up to them and start making small talk before her Ba and Virana break off to chat with other dignitaries, leaving Raya and Namaari together.

Raya likes how Namaari relaxes around her when its just them, despite the room full of people. They talk and banter and tease and laugh, but more than anything Raya just likes being with Namaari. And when Namaari mentions how much she hates formal wear, how dresses don't suit her, Raya makes it a game to see how many times she can mention how beautiful Namaari looks while they're talking, just because it makes Namaari flush and do the hair thing she does when she's shy. No other heart-related reason.

Its not until much later when Raya suddenly remembers the gift she brought and she runs off to fetch it. When she returns she hands Namaari the sleek box with a smile and a sheepish "Happy Birthday dep'la".

And Namaari's blushing and smiling as she takes the box, telling Raya she didn't have to as she opens the box-

And immediately slams it shut. Her face turns bright red and she whorls on Raya with wide eyes and a panicked, hissed "whatareyoudoing?!" And poor Raya's totally thrown, so sure she'd picked out the perfect gift. "You don't like it?" But Namaari shoves the box back into her hands, with another frenzied whisper "thatsnotit!"

Well now Raya's a little miffed because "You didn't even look at it" and before Namaari can stop her she's pulling the dagger from the box and offering it back to Namaari.

Meanwhile the room goes incredibly quiet as everyone from Fang suddenly notices what's happening between the princesses. Virana nearly spits out her drink. Everyone else carries on like normal, but a few people watch their new Fang friends with curious looks, completely out of the loop.

So now Raya's essentially down on one knee without realizing it, Namaari's about to have a heart attack, everyone from Fang is on the edge of their seat, and the dragons are having a rousing drinking contest with people from Spine.

So the party is going great.

Raya (oblivious to the world save for Namaari) is giving Namaari her strongest puppy dog eyes because she'd spent so long looking for the perfect gift dep'la, and "You're pretty special Namaari, special to me, and you deserve it."

Namaari, as red faced as she is, softens at Raya's admission, smiling a little to herself before she takes the dagger from Raya with a soft "it's lovely dep'la".

And suddenly the room's loud again as people from Fang start clapping and whistling. Everyone else is lost but soon they join in as well, despite having no clue as to what they're cheering for. Namaari's back to being flustered and she grabs Raya's hand and hauls her toward Virana and Benja. Raya, finally taking in the room around them, is confused as to why people are congratulating her and Namaari.

Virana has recovered by the time the two approach and if no one knew better it might've also appeared she was trying hard not to smile. Namaari hisses something to her mother Raya doesn't hear, and she shoots her Ba a questioning look. Benja looks a little pensive but he's got a quirk in his lips that Raya knows means mischief.

Virana gently pats her daughter's shoulder before turning to address the room, excusing the four of them. They turn to leave but not before Virana calls out to the crowd, "And it goes without saying you're all invited to the wedding as well," and then ushers her horrified daughter, her baffled betrothed, and Benja out the door.

Instantly Namaari's in hysterics, asking her mother why she'd say that when Raya obviously didn't know what she was doing. Virana, quite obviously playing ignorance, asks why Namaari accepted the blade if she knew what she was doing. And poor Namaari can only gape, red faced and no come back.

Raya has finally caught on to what she's done and yeah, okay now it all makes sense. The vendor, Namaari's (gay) panic, the congratulations... she just proposed to Namaari. She just proposed to Namaari. In front of most of Kumandra. Oh toi!

Benja, still smirking to himself, ruffles Raya's hair before turning to Namaari and Virana and saying, "To be fair... Namaari did propose first."

Marriage proposals in Heart are an exchange of necklaces. So when Namaari had given Raya the Sisu pendant back when they were kids, they'd essentially gotten engaged and since Raya kept it, they've technically been engaged for the past six years.

(Too) Long story short, Raya and Namaari get engaged, get married, fall in love, and live sapphically ever after.

End.

(Okay, I'm done. Back to angst.)