#my friend/mutual and i trying to figure this out

[flippinpancakes64]

The Wobbly Third Wheel

Summary: You and Steven have been going strong for a couple of months now. The only bump in the road is Marc, who for some reason, can't even seem to be cordial with you...

Marc Spector x Reader-centric, fluff and a lot of angst, mostly just a look at Marc's character

Note: I'm finally branching out past Twilight someone take a picture omg. But this is my first try writing for something different, so hopefully it goes well. I saw a Moon Knight edit on TikTok and now I'm back in my MK phase so... Anyways Enjoy!

In the beginning, you told yourself it was just him getting used to you.

Steven already told you all about Marc's past. His history with his mom which led to Steven's creation, the whole situation with Layla, Khonshu, being Moon Knight, basically everything.

So you weren't all that surprised when the grumpy American didn't exactly want to be your best friend. That's fair after all. You never asked to be best friends.

What you did ask, though, was for something like a mutual respect. A peaceful coexistence where you could both exist in your own spaces and interact in a kind way if you needed to.

Only, Marc seemed hellbent on, well, giving you hell.

He would go out of his way to order food for himself and not you, even if you were sitting on the couch right across from him. There have been a couple of times where you and Steven were out on a date, and Marc suddenly fronted. He would walk off, leaving you stranded and frantically searching for your boyfriend without any explanation or apology later on.

But the worst were the nights.

You had spent the night at Steven's place again, and it was currently the middle of the night. The moon was high in the sky, and London was quiet. You two were intertwined like vines, one of your legs between Steven's, his arms wrapped around your body in turn. It was hard to distinguish where you ended and he began.

It was nice, everything was peaceful.

Until Marc woke up.

He slowly blinked his eyes open, scanning their bedroom for anything that might have caused him to wake up. Finding none, he looked down at you.

And promptly got up.

That was always one of the worst things he did. Whenever you and Steven would be cuddling, or hanging out, or even just talking, if Marc fronted, he would always leave like there was a fire. Never an explanation, never a warning, just a complete tonal shift.

You know the boys can't necessarily control who comes forward, when they do, or how long they stay out. You know they have some level of control over it, but not a whole lot. And the way Marc looks at you when he suddenly fronts definitely leads you to believe that he's not the one behind the switch.

The surprise, followed by annoyance and slight disgust. His signature look whenever he saw you.

Marc roughly twisted out of your hold, not really paying any mind to if it woke you up or not. He sat up on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his hair and sighing as if he just got off a long shift.

Truth be told, he doesn't really know why he pushes you away like he does. He thinks you're nice enough. And clearly you love Steven. But there's just something about it, about even entertaining the idea of holding someone else close just like how he used to hold Layla.

Steven sometimes catches him fidgeting with his bare ring finger, running his fingertips over the indent left by his wedding band from all those years ago.

Layla moved on a long time ago, so why can't he? He doesn't know, and he doesn't really want to look too far deep into himself to figure it out.

You moved on the bed, groaning softly as you reached out for him. No, not him- Steven. You were reaching out for Steven. And he doesn't really want to think about the way his heart clenched when he thought of that.

"Steven," you groaned, your eyes blinking open sleepily as you turned to face him on the bed. His back was to you, but you recognized the tense line of his shoulders. The way his head was perpetually hung low like he was always guilty. Always a poor puppy waiting for another kick to land.

"Not Steven," he responded, his voice low and quiet. He wanted to be gruffer, to make himself sound tougher than he really did in that moment. But his body betrayed him, something it's been doing for years now.

"Marc," you whispered. He could hear you shuffling around on the bed, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that you were now sitting up. No closer to him than before, still giving him the space he needed. He appreciated that.

"Just... just go back to bed," he sighed, running his hand over his face tirelessly. It was too late for this bullshit. Too late to be having a late night conversation with his alternate personality's partner who he's slowly starting to develop feelings for too.

"Are you alright?" you asked, your voice infinitely caring. So caring and kind and understanding that it grated on him.

"I'm fine. Go back to bed," he grumbled, moving to stand up.

"Wait," you called, grabbing his arm before he could go too far. "Please, can we just talk?"

"We have nothing to talk about. I'm not your boyfriend," he gritted, his voice tight.

He could hear your tired sigh, and he felt his heart clench at being the source of your sadness.

"I know you're not, but you're a part of him. A big part of him. Please, can't we just talk for a little bit? I'm tired of this passive-aggressive act you've had going on for weeks now," you pleaded. When he turned back to look at you, he was met with those sincere, loving eyes. The same ones he's seen through Steven's. A patient, caring gaze that you save only for those you love most. And he's part of that.

He huffs, trying his best to play the part of the annoyed, grumpy man he's always portrayed himself to be. "Fine. Talk," he grits, sitting back down on the bed and facing you.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. You realized this might be the only chance you have to change things, to at least convince Marc to be civil.

"Okay. Look, Marc, I'm not asking you to cuddle with me, or to kiss me or dote on me like Steven does. You're not him, we're not dating, I know that," you started, looking deep into his eyes. Marc hates to admit how his chest tightened at that, how he had to fight back the urge to do exactly that.

"All I'm asking is that we can coexist. I love Steven, and I want to be able to spend time with him without feeling like I'm intruding on your space," you continued.

"You are intruding on my space. This is my apartment, this is my bed, you're wearing my clothes," Marc grits before he can stop himself. The way you sigh and bow your head afterward makes him want to hurt someone. Mostly himself.

"I know... I'm... I'm sorry. I promise, I don't want to make you uncomfortable. That's what I'm trying to get at. But I can't work with you if you don't work with me," you pleaded.

He wants to scream. He wants to tell you that you're always welcome, that you don't need to work around him. But he can't. His pride is too fragile, his ego too small. To turn around now would be to wound himself.

"Well I don't know what you want me to do," he settled on instead. A non-answer he always gave Layla when they argued. It had the same effectiveness now as it did back then, which is not much.

"All I want is some communication. I'm not very good at picking up the differences between you two yet. And sometimes it happens so quickly I can't catch it. It's jarring, you know? To be cuddling your boyfriend one minute and then the next minute he just gets up and leaves with no explanation," you said, your voice dripping with worry and sorrow.

"So what do you want me to say?" he gritted. He needs to backpedal, he needs to go back, but he can't stop himself. "'Hey, it's not Steven anymore, so fuck off,'? Is that what you want me to say? 'Hey, it's Marc, get out of my goddamn apartment, I don't want you here and have never wanted you here'? Do you want me to tell you that you're a nuisance? That you take away from my limited alone time because you're always fucking here? That I can't get a moment's peace?"

The look on your face told him everything he needed to know. The lines between your brows, the slight purse of your lips, the wobble of your chin.

"If... if that's what you want to say, then go for it," you whispered, barely hiding the hurt in your voice. No, no, no. He doesn't want you to cry, he's never wanted you to cry.

But this is just who he is.

He's Marc Spector. Moon Knight. The guy who always manages to fuck up everything good that comes his way. The guy who ruined not only his life, but has managed to fuck up Steven's too. The one his broken brain made to be the good one, the one who was supposed to be happy and live a good life away from all of their trauma, he pulled him into it too. And now they're both broken. Everything he touches breaks, and clearly, you're no exception.

Your hand on his shoulder that pulled him back down into the bed, the one that urged him to keep talking, that was when fate was set. And the proof is right in front of him.

The love of his life, his second chance at happiness, crumbling to pieces in front of his eyes.

And yet all he could do was watch.

A tear slipped down your cheek, falling from those eyes that hold so much love, so much patience. He knows if he watched long enough, all the love that you held in there for him would disappear too, so he looked away.

He didn't say anything after that, he just got back up off the bed and stalked out to the kitchen. You were left to tremble silently, to reel and mull over what he just said.

The next day, Steven told you that he didn't mean it. He reassured you that Marc doesn't hate you, but you don't believe it. From your eyes, Marc has only ever pushed you away.

This is what always happens. Marc breaks your heart over and over again, constantly proving that he doesn't love you.

But when it's the dead of night, you don't notice your boyfriend's arms tightening around you. You don't hear the whispered confessions of love that slip from his mouth, missing that signature British accent. You don't feel the hesitant kisses he places on your cheeks and forehead, ghosts of affection that he believes aren't supposed to be there.

Marc thrives here, in the shroud of darkness where no one, not even Khonshu, can see the love in his eyes. No one can hear the vulnerability in his voice. No one sees the tremble of his hands or the reverence they hold. And no one, not even Steven, can feel the longing for love inside of him.

[lemotmo]

My god give this to me!!!!

Q. Do you think they might actually go the unrequited route? I mean not permanently but do you think they might let Buck pine for a few episodes before Eddie has his realization moment?

A. I personally don't see them going this route. That doesn't mean they won't, but I just don't see the show putting the audience in the position of having to watch Buck pine for someone who isn't an option for him. The audience is pretty protective when it comes to Buck, I mean we love him most but we beg for them to drop a car on top of him, lol. The audience in general is pretty protective of him. They've watched him grow up so watching him set himself up for heartbreak is just not something I think the show will do. That route also puts Eddie in an unfair situation with the audience. Doesn't mean they won't do it. Doesn't mean they can't do it and do it really successfully. I just don't personally see it happening that way.

I still think we're going to get a fairly mutual realization, maybe not in the same episode but back to back episodes at least. I think neither one will tell the other for fear that the feelings aren't reciprocated. So I think we'll kind of get mutual pinning. I think Buck will confide in Maddie about his feelings. I'm not sure if Eddie will tell someone or if we'll just see Eddie's realization moment. I think one or both of them will have some kind of accident or incident on the job where one or both of them believe they're dying and they don't want to die without the other knowing how they feel. Oliver talking about an overnight shoot in the rain pretty much reinforces my belief in that. Rain is just such a Buddie thing on this show. And I don't see Tim being able to resist the big dramatic 'I love you ' where they're concerned. It's been 7 years in the making so I don't see it being a quiet moment. I think the show will go all in for the drama of it all. And they will get their quiet moment together after the fact.

I will say that I've seen a couple of posts and received a couple of asks urging people to remain skeptical because queerbaiting is very real and often intentionally used by shows to attract viewers. That is absolutely true but this show has never intentionally, verbally and openly queerbaited before. And Oliver doesn't talk about it a lot for fear of being accused of misleading people. Oliver would simply not do that. He's bent over backwards for 7 years to make sure he never even accidentally said something that could get him accused of doing that. I simply do not believe Tim, the show and especially Oliver would knowingly and deliberately bait like that. Ryan has been just as careful to try and avoid doing anything like that. I just don't believe that's what's happening here. For gods sake people let yourselves be excited.

Thank you Nonny! Much appreciated!

This was made and posted after the Oliver interview!

Nope, an unrequited storyline isn't going to happen. I'm even more convinced that this won't happen than Ali.

It wouldn't make sense in the grand scheme of things. We've seen that Eddie has started to look for joy, right at the moment when Buck will realise he is in love with him. For years now Eddie's relationships with women have fizzled out because he never felt that he could fully commit for some reason. Yet they keep showing us the close bond he has with his best friend.

No uhuh, Buck is going to figure it out and Eddie is going to come to some conclusions of his own while in El Paso. It will take them some time to actually act upon their feelings, because that is how these stories go. But the end-result will always be fully realised canon Buddie.

I also firmly believe that there is no queerbait going on here. They are too upfront about it.

Believe what you see this time. Allow yourself to believe it.

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[luckypunklemonade]

2/14

“Second guess these words of mine, I always thought that I’d be fine with you. But ever since we crossed that line…”

[Implied smut MDNI 18+; friends to lovers; mutual first time; 2k words] You made a decision with your best friend, Stiles Stilinski, that it was logical to be each other's first time. After all, you trusted each other, and, well, it made you both safer.

an: I love this concept, but I wanted to get this out today, so It's sort of rushed, sorry :( Happy Valentine's Day :)

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

It started just so we could both get out of the victim pool. Another supernatural event killing off virgins. Shocker. So, naturally, I proposed the idea to Stiles. One of my closest friends who also happened to be a virgin. I trusted him, had known him for years, and knew he’d also hopefully see the logic in it. It’s not like he could make fun of me. I’ve seen him say and do much more embarrassing things. I won most debates because of that. It was starting to become a problem now that it had happened, though.

“Do you remember what this hieroglyphic is?”

Studying a new round of killings in Beacon Hills, the category was Egyptian, and the suspect was a Sphinx demon. Having had a bit of a fixation as a child, I could be of help. 

“What does it look like?” 

“A bird–a stork.” 

I leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer, my hand pulling his shoulder back toward me so I could get a better look. I got the answer out, “Amenophus,” but his cologne cut me off after that. The scent only reminded me of him in my bed, softly and awkwardly humming to try and make it less awkward as he tried to figure out how to take my bra off. He was sort of hugging me, his head next to mine as he peered over my shoulder at his own hands, fiddling with the clasp. He laughed, “I can’t figure this shit out. I don’t know how this is allowed. It’s like a Chinese finger trap.”

I laughed into his shoulder, glad he could tell I was nervous and that he wasn’t making it a big deal. “It’s nothing like that. Here, I can–”

My heart seemed to drop with the weight of anxiety as I felt him finally succeed. He noticed, holding the bra together between my shoulder blades. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just nervous.”

“Hey, me too.” I scoffed. He was more likely excited or just wanting this to be over. Stiles tilted his head and brought it back to look at me. “I’m serious. You couldn’t feel my hand shaking? Why do you think I had so much trouble undoing this freaking restraint?”

“Oh, so you’re otherwise an expert?”

“I can figure out a Rubix cube, puzzle boxes, secret Celtic runes; I think I can figure out how to take off a bra.” “You saw it in porn.” Stiles leaned his forehead onto your shoulder, an embarrassed frown audible in his answer, “Yup.”

Now, all I could notice were things that made me think about him above me in my bed. The way he sat down on Scott’s couch, getting comfortable by pushing his hips up to settle back down into the seat. I realized just how determined he was in his endeavor with me when I noticed his ‘focused’ face the other day and matched it to the one he was making as he stared down at me. He would scratch his forearm, and I’d think of him sliding it beneath me to help me get comfortable, and then his voice as we talked each other through the nerves.

We’ve been close for forever, but I never realized how often I touch him mindlessly until it felt like static every time I did it. My hand twitched as it rested on his back, for the first time wanting to ease up to the back of his head and play with his hair. A lot of things were the same, and it just felt like I was the problem. I felt like I was reading too far into my own emotions. Of course, I’d be a little frazzled and attached to my first time, but I had to remind myself I see him every day. He’s one of my best friends. This confusion will blow over.

Valentine’s Day was coming up. He should get you something, right? I mean, yeah, you guys aren’t dating, but you were each other’s first time. You were best friends. Does this qualify as friends with benefits? He wished he had asked before things settled back into normalcy–when he woke up with your head on his chest. It’s the week of. He could use a conversation with you about this. Friends for seven years, he knew Valentine’s Day was your second favorite holiday behind Halloween. Not because you’d ever had a valentine, but because you loved the definition you gave it. You did that to everything. Even if there was a preconceived understanding, you defined everything. He might’ve been the only one to notice. He loved your version of Valentine’s Day. You dress up, you curl your hair, do your makeup. You take the morning to get yourself coffee, listen to music, and be with yourself. You always came back with donuts for your friends because the day was about love in every aspect. 

He needed to do something. Love in every aspect, right? Even in the weird, unsure, sort-of-still-stuck-on-you-when-he-shouldn’t-be way? He was a little late to be planning too much. You weren’t really a candy or chocolates girl; seven years of friendship, and you only had a select few stuffed animals; you liked to read, but the only thing he knew about the romance genre was that you didn’t read it often because it was getting more and more difficult to execute correctly. So, you stuck to the books you both needed to blow dust from, certain classics, banned books, and miscellaneous genres on your “To Be Read” list.  Whatever he did, he was going to try and be cool about it.

He spent the day before Valentine’s Day in his kitchen practicing. The sheriff came home to his son washing a sink full of dishes and trying to force-feed him his dish. When his critique was satisfactory, Stiles let his dad go to bed and kept washing dishes. He set his alarm a little earlier than usual and went to bed, reassuring himself that he should show you he was thankful. You kind of made sure he wasn’t brutally sacrificed and, of course, that he got laid. And he did learn a few things about sex. Everything real so far, actually. Now that he thought about it, everything he knew was applicable to you. It wasn’t just girls in general who liked it when he made sure their hair was out of their face, it was you, and he did it because he knew you didn’t like your hair in your face. He was going to have trouble associating sex with anyone else for a while, at least. Or thinking about much else around you. 

Of course, you took a late start from school, which left Stiles to think about you and what he should do for you more. When you showed up, he was in the hallway talking to Scott, walking down the stairs. He stopped talking, not at all helping Scott’s already unbearably correct assumption that you and him slept together. He stared at you as you glowed your way through the hallway. He stared at your red lipstick and the ribbon tying your hair out of your face, a job he wanted to do instead at that moment. How satisfying would it be if he walked down that hall and slung his arm around you? How good would it make him feel to walk around that day with a red kiss print on his cheek? On his neck. All over his goddamn face if you felt like it. 

You saw him and grinned, holding up a bag of donut holes. He nodded, swallowing the urge to call you “honey” down. Partly because that was weird and partly because “Sunshine” fit you better at that moment. Before you reached him and Scott, you handed out the respective treats to Lydia and Allison, checking in on them once again after the latest test to the pack’s mental health. By the time you turned back to them, he was already following Scott to meet you. 

His hands kept waking me up. On the sides of my arms, on my hips, my shoulders. I kept sitting up in bed and missing the feeling by milliseconds. It wasn’t ceremonious by any means, but it meant a lot to me. Not just because he did it, but because of how he did it. He made sure it felt right. He didn’t lose me in awkward silence, he encouraged me to speak up. After a while, I did the same. It was awkward, but I knew it would be. We just laughed it off. His fingers didn’t go through my hair smoothly at first, but he took the time to brush them out. I didn’t quite know how to lie down for him, but he had made me comfortable enough so that I felt okay asking. “Here,” he said as his hands guided my shoulders down, cradling my head before it hit the pillows. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t ask for it. I wanted to pull him down by the back of his neck and feel him kiss my head deeper into the pillows. His hands would wander further and get distracted, and he’d let go and forget the reason we were doing it in the first place. We were holding hands. He was mumbling questions for me as he lined himself up. Why shouldn’t I know what he tastes like? 

You’re wearing the smile you always have when you do something nice. A little flustered as you hand people gifts or compliment them. The smile that kept distracting him when you walked up the bleachers with his number painted on your cheek. It was only the second game he was starting in, but he had your full support, even in the freezing weather. Lacrosse season is in winter, which is also sick season. You got sick this year, of course, and you showed up to two games with a cold. He met you after the game, trying not to cough on any proud parents. He was sweating, and you were shivering. With a congested cough, you gave him a thumbs up, and he sent you home to get some rest.

Now, you had a content look on your face, sort of like how you looked when you slept, watching your friends dig into your gifts. Stiles started walking, tapping your shoulder and nodding his head toward an empty classroom. You followed, not without hearing your friends giggle. When you both got away into the classroom, he turned quickly.

“Come to my house tonight. I don’t know if it’d be weird, but I sort of have this whole thing planned. If you think it’s weird, you don’t have to come, I just wanted to find a way to- to thank you, but if today wasn’t the right move–” “You planned something?” “I know just because we had sex doesn’t mean we’re dating. I know we didn’t do it because of that, but I keep getting this feeling like I…”

He stared at you, not worried about ruining the friendship, but terrified you didn’t feel how he felt. “I feel like I want us to be dating after. I know it’s probably because it was my first time and I feel attached or whatever.”

“You feel that, too? I thought it was just– well, yeah.”

“You–” He watched you nervously stare at the ground. 

“You know we never kissed? You were my first time and we never kissed.”

“I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. I didn’t think you’d want that.”

“Me neither.”

Stiles leaned in and you knew. He kissed you gently, just pressing his lips against yours before you pulled away, eyes widening. “Oh, shit.” You wiped his mouth with your sleeve, your red lipstick nearly staining his chin. You made sure to wipe as much as you could off without smudging it. Stiles flinched away and stopped you, “I want it.”

“I got it all. You can’t walk around like that. Am I good?”

He checked for smudging and softly wiped the side of your lip, “You’re great. I can walk around like that and proudly, too. Watch.”

You stopped him before he could kiss you again, laughing away the flush in your cheeks. He saw it regardless. “Uhm…Here. This’ll be more managable.” 

You brought his hand up to your lips and kissed it, leaving your red kiss print on the back of his hand. Stiles admired it for a good thirty seconds before beaming up at you. When you promised to kiss him the right way at his house that night, he finally nodded and followed you back out into the hallway. 

I opened the door and took my shoes off, hearing a small sound of panic from within the house. Stiles had heard me come in, running around the kitchen on a mission. Sitting where he told me, I was faced with two generic three-wick candles. He doesn’t exactly own a candelabra, I smiled to myself. Stiles had the food plated, he was just cleaning the area before bringing it out. I stood up to help, laughing when he whipped around and ordered me to stop, but continued into the kitchen. I didn’t stop laughing as I slipped past him to grab a few miscellaneous things off of the counter or when he took them out of my hands and backed me against the counter. “Stay there,” He said as he turned to put more utensils in the sink. He turned back to hold my shoulders because I was moving again. I smiled and caught him off guard, pressing my lips to his. 

Admittedly, I should have been more considerate and wiped my lipstick off, but I liked the idea of how he’d look. His hands went slack on my shoulders, dropping to my waist. My nerves surged when I felt him hum into my lips. My heart rushed when he took the chance to deepen the kiss, the enthusiasm he put into it pushing my head back into his hand. I mirrored his movements as I slid my hand up to his shoulders. His face was tight with eagerness when I pulled away. He swallowed, lips pressing together. I then noticed my lipstick smudged across his mouth. It strayed above his lips in a hazy pink. I could only imagine what I looked like. I held in a laugh, which he met until we couldn’t. My laugh lasted longer while he focused on the red smeared on my chin. He pulled out his phone, holding it up to his face to take a picture. 

“C’mere,” He mumbled, pressing his cheek to mine and snapping a picture of our mouths, both messy with my lipstick. I hid my face until he led me to my seat again, taking away my napkin so I knew he wanted us to sit together and eat with both of our mouths covered in smudged lipstick.

[hotfudgecherryrosy]

So i mostly left the fnaf fandom after custom night and everything after that i dont know shit about.

So there's that whole thing where people re-did the puzzle for crying child's name and came up with DAVID instead of EVAN. But then there's that thing where ig there's an evan in fazbear frights? and he has a brother mike? Now there's something like. 4 different mikes and therefore 4 different possible timelines? (Main games, TSE, FF, Movie)

So what the fuck is canon to what? what is going on? Does anyone know what the fuck is going on?

[iminyourfandom]

actually the worse part of having an au/fic is trying to come up with a name for it

[quillvice]

I think everyone needs a lesbian friend fr

[bookwyrminspiration]

everyone SHUT UP and look at him. THE main character of all time. was your fav the god of the sun in a past life turned prince of destruction destined to destroy the world? i didn't think so. AND he's bisexual

[izzy-b-hands]

Deeply craving a food* I absolutely can't have bc it would require being in ND rn

*flying style pizza burger at Big Boy, if you're unfortunate enough to be stuck in Bismarck, ND for any period of time go have one, then another bc they're addictive like that lol. Everything there is good and the money is worth it. Plus you can hang out in the huge parking lot and the birds will eat fries you toss out if you sit and eat in your car, just maybe. only do a few for the sake of the birds' health tho jfdkalfjdl

(politically related worries/things under the cut abt ND and travel)

And had the realisation just now that keeps randomly hitting me and tbh I may have already posted abt it but

I can't go back. Like, ever, for the foreseeable future. It wouldn't be safe; I wouldn't want to risk it just for food of course lmao.

But I'm not going to be able to go this summer to see the oldest out of my three younger cousins get married (if I could find the money for it of course which I know I can't no matter how much I want to.) I can't take my fiance there to show aer all my favourite spots and restaurants. I can't take aer to the best place near the river to walk; it's got actual wooden walkways over the low tide/kind of marshy area before you get into deep water and can see fish swimming around. I'm not going to be able to visit my grandparents or my mum (tbh more worried abt grandparents than mum; they're only getting older and they aren't entirely happy since moving out of their old house and I worry so much abt them.)

I had known that this was already dangerous even before fuckface was back in office; ND is on the 'avoid travel if you can' category on all maps abt trans safety in different states. But like. There was still a tiny chance we could make it work. Be mindful and head straight back to our hotel if we didn't have a destination in mind (aside from walking the downtown area for the restaurants and shops.)

I don't know entirely how I feel abt this. Sad, but in a certain way bc of the above. I should have known it would only get more dangerous. And it's not an exciting place; I'll make fun of it until the day I die in the way you do when you spent most of your life in a place and know all the good and bad abt it. But I did still want to take Fiance there at least once for a longer period of time; just to see the things I mentioned and to figure out how much Big Boy food I can freeze and how many coolers Delta will allow on a flight as luggage and/or carry on. Not to ever move back (FUCK NO), just one last visit and then I would only go there for funerals or weddings or baby showers or things like that*

*if I could afford to, otherwise I'm just sending gifts. On that note, like my cousin's upcoming wedding; I knew there was basically no chance I could afford to fly or take a train back for it. They've got a registry and I'm still planning to buy them something despite them and my aunt and uncle making moves that suggest they've gone from begrudgingly supportive of me as a queer person to slowly pretending I no longer exist.

My cousin is, apparently refusing to send me a save the date or invite, and per my grandma it isn't bc she knows I can't afford to come back, but she won't tell her the actual reason for it. My grandma is telling me to hound her and make my mum ask her why she won't send it, but I think that we would even have to do that, which I don't want to, is an answer on it's own.

And that's okay, or at least I feel like I have to be okay with it. The cousins and their parents have always been openly trans and homophobic despite my grandparents, bless them, for trying once in a blue moon to scold them for it. I think I was 'one of the good ones' to them while I was there, but now that I'm not and they aren't around me as much, it's easier for me to be the family black sheep and they can be open about disliking me just for who I am. It hurts, but in a numb way bc like. Dramatic metaphor but the wound was already there from years of listening to their bs at family gatherings and having to sit there in silence so I didn't get accused of being rude to them by them and my mum's bf. It's just more knives trying to go through a fuck ton of scar tissue, so it doesn't hurt like it used to but. Still hurts enough to notice.

I'm really proud of those kids; I may have been parentified all to fuck but I'm still proud of how I did my best to help raise those kids. Tried hard to teach them about being polite but not letting ppl take advantage of you (thank you to the self help books in the middle and high school library for that knowledge. Still can't apply it to myself bc I'm seemingly stuck in people pleaser/doormat mode most of the time, but I'm glad to have it regardless), to be brave even when things are scary, and to try and be a helper instead of a bully, though unfortunately their parents are bullies to everyone including their kids and each other, so that bit didn't stick as well as I'd have liked.

I want the best for them and I miss them. They may not miss me, but I'm never going to stop wanting all the best for them and missing them.

[avatardoggo]

I HAVE FEELINGS FOR A BOYMAN

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

My mom just sent a message to the family group chat suggesting that my siblings download the 'For the Strength of Youth' magazine on their Gospel Library app and talked about how much the youth magazines helped her testimony growing up and like, cool. Fine. Don't know why the 'sending random spiritual thoughts in the gc' thing started out of nowhere when it hadn't been a thing for a decade but this is just another one of those, and you're ofc allowed to talk about things that are significant in your life.

I don't think sending the 'What I Did When Someone Close to Me Challenged My Faith' article right afterwards was strictly necessary though 🙃

[vamptastic]

i have dug myself into a deep hole this past year and i am now finally making actual progress to digging myself back out 👍

[dennistakesamentalhealthday]

hi i finished my degree last week

[lastnightonthecyclone]

Another fucking wip on fnaf because inconsistency is my skill

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

made myself look stupid for getting confused during baseball but it all evens out because I just played ping pong with the guy I like for like an hour

[nat-20s]

Laying out a conspiracy board with pictures and string but it's just me trying to figure out which of my friends would like being friends with each other

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

"unicron" being a serious term in transformers lore is bringing me back to my blue sky days. guy with a cigarette looking out the window. i havent heard that name in 84 years