#not today!!! not today. for all struggles and strife there is still life and it continues. life goes on

[thatcritterthatskitter]

end walked!!!!

[multiplicity-positivity]

Here’s some positivity for systems who are made up entirely or almost entirely of fragments!

There are infinite ways to be plural and experience multiplicity. Lots of systems may find that they are mostly made up of fragments, and that’s okay! You’re still absolutely plural and you still belong in the plural community. So here’s to all the systems out there who are mostly or completely made up of fragments!

💐 Shoutout to polyfragmented systems with complex inner structures!

🌙 Shoutout to systems who are not polyfragmented, but are still made up mostly or entirely of fragments!

🌺 Shoutout to systems whose fragments hold onto memories, emotions, and single aspects of their system’s identity!

🪐 Shoutout to systems with fragments that often merge, blend, or combine temporarily to form a more well-rounded individual!

🌼 Shoutout to fragment-heavy systems who are survivors of RAMCOA and/or OEA!

☁️ Shoutout to systems whose fragments make up many subsystems, clusters, and groups!

🌷 Shoutout to systems made up mostly or entirely of fragments who have accepted and embraced the way their system functions and is organized!

⭐️ Shoutout to those who are questioning if their system is polyfragmented or made up mostly or entirely of fragments!

🌹 Shoutout to fragments who have difficulties with personal autonomy, agency, and forming a solid sense of self!

☀️ Shoutout to endogenic, mixed origins, and unknown origins systems who are made up mostly or entirely of fragments!

🪷 Shoutout to fragment-heavy systems who struggle with indecision, poor memory or communication, and internal conflict and strife!

Systems who are made up mostly or entirely of fragments are still plural and are cherished, beloved, and crucial members of the plural community! Our spaces simply would not be the same without you here, and we so appreciate the chance to get to know and interact with you! Whether your system has only a few, hundreds, thousands, or infinite fragments, know that your plurality is valid and you are special and loved just the way you are.

Please do your best to treat yourself and your system with kindness today! It’s okay if you don’t know who you are, if you’re struggling in life, if you feel lost and confused, or if you need some help. Know that we’re rooting for you and wishing you the very best in all that you do! Thanks so much for reading, and we hope you can have a wonderful day today!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for disclosing how much my partner makes to an acquaintance?

For context my partner makes a fair bit of money at their job as an engineer. I have never made much more than minimum wage, work in a difficult field and am still in grad school. Essentially I have a net worth deep in the negatives from student debt and while my parents have helped me out on small stuff they are retired/partially retired.

The disparity of wealth in my relationship with my partner HAS been a source of strife between us.

In a casual conversation today, with my mom and some of coworkers who I know fairly well (I work pretty regularly with them and fill for absent employees at my moms work), they were asking some questions about my partner and our relationship. I expressed some stress in our relationship regarding funds and the disparity between where I am in my career/life and where my partner is.

My mom’s coworker asked how much my partner made so I told her. She asked so I told her. I didn’t really think twice - I’m pretty open with my own friends and family about how much I make and they are with me (I feel like a lot of young people are more open then older generations when it comes to salary) and I was also trying to emphasize my own frustration with some of my partners habits in our relationship. my partner is fairly obsessive with saving money/reducing spending which is obviously a lot easier to do when you make as much money as they do and puts that pressure very heavily on me despite our very different financial realities.

Also for more context - I don’t share funds or live with my partner. At most my partner pays for dates bc of their more stable financial situation - but other than that they don’t help directly besides offering advice.

Later that day my mom told me I was an asshole for sharing that as that coworker is having financial troubles right now and her husband is laid off. And telling her how much someone half her age makes is rude, since it’s a lot more than she and her husband make right now.

After hearing that I feel like I am the ass hole for being so willing to share that number since it is high. But I was not trying to brag (honestly if anything I was more using number to drive home how out of touch my partner is with what it’s like to legitimately struggle to buy food, pay rent etc)

One final note - I probs made my relationship sound toxic af. Don’t worry it’s all good - I’m all good my partner is good we just get into boring adult arguments about things like 401ks and credit scores. (And I’m in weird grad school limbo which makes trying to get on with your life annoying)

What are these acronyms?

[burningvelvet]

on percy shelley & human connection & coping through art

to set the mood of this post i must say i'm writing it really quickly on my phone over a bowl of pasta with bread & broccoli & some orange flavored sparkling water & im still dressed in my outdoor wintery clothes (all black, knee boots, wool, silver chains & rings, although i mostly prefer gold jewelry).

so anyway today i've been kind of sad over ppl not replying to my texts & my usual reaction is to say "ok, guess i'll kms, wah wah, cry cry" but this sort of passively cynical joking schtick has gotten old & i would rather occupy myself some other way instead of moping about failed connections or the difficulty of initiating contact with anyone or the struggles of modern socialization as a whole.

instead, i will read the works of percy shelley tonight, and think about how he struggled with all of this over 200 yrs ago. of how hard he struggled to make leigh hunt and lord byron collaborate with him on their journal the liberal, and how he struggled all his life to build a positive community even in spite of years of bullying, ostracization, and family strife - he often felt like giving up, and like human connection was impossible, but he never gave in to apathy and instead he continuously curated his ideal life by seeking out other like-minded people, even when he occasionally embarrassed himself in public or when others were decidely averse to him or lukewarm in their reception. john keats didn't entirely take to him when they met and some of keats' friends straight-up disliked percy for being weird, but percy (though scarcely knowing him) loved keats as a brother-poet nonetheless, was generous to him, wrote one of his masterpieces in his favor, and died with a copy of his poems in his pocket.

percy always reached out to others and was a loyal friend even when others disrespected him or ignored him or just simply didnt love him as much as he did them. his letters to lord byron show how reverent he was to his friend, and how his affection was never returned in quite the same gusto, but, while still trying to keep his self-respect, percy quelled his frustrations and continued his correspondence with byron regardless. percy acted as the mediator between byron and claire even when his stress was so high it weighed heavily on his health. he actively tried to choose to be positive even when the people around him were negative or miserable. like most writers back then, he sent his writing to his idols, and sought mentorship from people he admired, like william godwin and leigh hunt, and he continued to respect them even when they took advantage of him financially (moreso in godwin's case).

anyway what i mean to say is that whenever im feeling lonely or rejected or alienated or socially stupid or am just second-guessing my role in society or whatever whatever whatever, i cling to creativity/art/literature/etc. even harder than i regularly do, because thats what it exists for.

i knew a therapist (not one i saw as a patient, but someone i knew through mutual interests in media/the arts) who said that a certain musical performance we both loved probably saved way more lives than any single therapist ever has. - the performance in question was david bowie's tokyo 1990 live recording of rock n roll suicide, an anti-suicide song (its available on youtube, go watch it lol, he performs it with so much conviction).

any way even though at the end of his life shelley sometimes felt like he was failing to achieve his dream of building a utopian art commune - he actually did succeed in introducing several people to each other in ways that changed peoples lives. his friends jane williams and thomas jefferson hogg got married only through his mutual friendship. whole literary societies have been started in his honor - to this day there are conferences & whatnot that meet annually - his life & writing continues to inspire people and bring them comfort - & he would be extremely proud of that - any artist would. the main goal of any famous dead writer is basically to become the imaginary friend of their future readers & he accomplished that - even though all the time he was wracked with doubt/depression/suicidality/illness/chronic pain, etc. - as a political/philosophical radical, he realized that having hope is one of the most influential & radical things one can do - & i'm glad that, even though this is a person who died over 200 yrs ago, there is at least one person who really resonates with me - even though we're from different centuries, different continents, different sexes, etc. - it's helpful to have positive influences to look up to, especially when they've also struggled in similar ways as you. and although shelley was pretty privileged (rich englishman) he really did struggle a lot mentally & physically - his life was a chaotic mess - and he wasn't perfect at all - but i think he's still inspirational for my previously mentioned reasons - his ceaseless hope. the last poem he was working on was titled the triumph of life, even though he wrote it during a deep depression. the last poem he published in his lifetime was hellas, which he hoped would raise money for the cause of greek war of independence. from the poem:

"Life may change, but it may fly not;

Hope may vanish, but can die not;

Truth be veiled, but still it burneth;

Love repulsed, — but it returneth!"

[rayven-interrupted]

if i'm to leave a legacy

i would bequeath it

to only You, and it would be

that somewhere

in the misanthropic chip

on my broad shoulders

is an atom of hope

pushing,

violently,

with a tremor of violin

in its wake

that You find

a path to happiness, someday

while i watch, dwindling star

in a forgotten sky

that strength of demons

i've gleaned from

black nights, softens

into monsoons

and rides wings of angels

into your despair

when you're struggling

to fit,

live, and just survive

making your war

gentler than death

just for a moment

that you see how

i've traded bruises

on my knuckles, and scars

unfurled my wrists

to hold a pen,

calluses,

on two fingers

i use to type

turning wildfire

into tiny puddles

of calligraphy,

and called it poetry

about you

that despite the

fanatic solitude

i wear on my sleeve

the sociopathic apathy

that is my first skin,

it is love

that found footholds

in cracks

climbed over my walls,

and said "hello"

god,

religion,

power,

art,

money,

meaning of life,

sermons of blah--

nothing means anything

except that, and

all the ugliness

nightmares

strife

filth

is the absence of You

if i'm to leave You a legacy

then let it be this,

that after i'm gone

my words fall

upon You

a multitude

of feathers and swords

a million twilights

on cataracts

of your time's wind.

-from the pen of Urban Nomad

I have more of your writing than I do of my own. That this piece found me today, of all days, is a testament.

I spend my days with you in my head.

I still fucking feel you.

Your presence so strong I rarely feel anything but you.

I’d follow you if you’d let me.

You won’t. You’re difficult like that.

Lord knows I’ve tried..

I miss you, and you can stop not..

[unbindingisaac]

Coming Out and Beginning My Transition

Coming Out

One day at the youth shelter, all of the teens chose a nickname to go by for the day. I chose the name Parker. When the day ended, I asked if everyone could keep calling me Parker. After a couple of days, one of the staff members asked, "Parker, what are your pronouns?" That moment was so nerve-wracking for me--it felt like my now or never moment. "He/him," I was surprised to hear myself say. Living away from my parents and moving into a supportive environment in a bigger city gave me the power to finally come out. Finally, almost a year since I first realized that I wasn't a cis girl, I officially came out as transgender in February of 2017. I called my parents on the phone from the youth shelter and told them that I was a boy and that they could either choose to accept me or choose to not be a part of my life (spoiler alert: after a lot of tension and strife, they fully accepted me). The shelter staff allowed me to move into the boys' hallway and pick out masculine clothing from their donations room. After a couple of months, the shelter moved me into their new pilot program: a transitional living program for LGBTQ+ youth. I got to live independently in my own apartment in a complex with other LGBTQ+ youth. The staff took us to LGBTQ+ events, and the youth got to meet to talk about LGBTQ+ issues.

I learned to stand up for myself and assert myself. Constantly having to correct people who called me the wrong name and pronouns was really tough, and I definitely had a lot of mental and emotional struggles. However, those experiences ended up making me feel stronger and helping me learn more about myself. During this period of time, I experimented a lot with my appearance and style--something that I previously struggled with. I bought chest binders to give myself the appearance of having a flat chest. Everyday, I felt more and more connected to the person I saw in the mirror.

What I learned during this time is that coming out is a continuous process. As a person who was "visibly queer", I had to come out to people all the time just to be seen and respected as my true self. Even today, coming out is a continuing process, but back then it was a lot harder. Socially transitioning is challenging yet amazing, but I still didn't feel right and fulfilled. Pretty soon, it became time for...

Starting Testosterone

[theyoungwclf]

bridgerton prompts / accepting / @winterreigned: “   Where have you been all night? ”

Robb knew he had a big day and still chose to go out, spend his time in a dimly lit building with a lad whose name he never quite learned just because in those moments when he felt another man's lips on his own and the thumping of his heart in his ears were more real than any show he put on as Lord Stark, eldest child, eldest brother, a young man whose entire life was a lie in favor of leading his family through the trials and strife of the social seasons.

Jon was the only one who knew, not by choice, but his half brother had always been able to read him, and luckily for him his brother didn't judge, not did he see what Robb was doing was wrong, and Robb returned home and washed his hands in a bucket until his skin was rubbed red. Not exactly a great way to greet Sansa when she walked into the room and immediately questioned him.

" Should you not be in bed, sister? Mother will be furious, you are to promenade in the park later today, don't ladies need rest? " As easily as it was to wash his hands, he washed himself of his internal struggles, an easygoing smile curving on his lips as he dries his hands. " Never you mind where I was. It is not for you to know. " He was afforded the luxury of waving the questions off, though he knew it'd anger Sansa more than anything. He couldn't tell her, a scandal. How would any of them react if they knew the head of the house's heart beat for men and men only? Disgust no doubt, better to keep it under lock and key. He still had plenty of years before he would need to marry, a charade of finding a wife would happen one day, but not today.

At least not when he had Sansa to keep all the eyes off himself. Finding a suitable husband for her was a far more pressing matter for their overly eager mother.

" Sansa, really. Why are you awake? Is something wrong? "

[goganworlds]

History of the Gogans: The Millennium War

Gogan history is fraught with strife and struggles, culminating in the seminal tragedy that shaped the many peoples of Gogan into what they are today: The Millennium War.

The conflict started as so many do: with dissatisfaction. Though the ruler of the Gogana, known as Astral Emperor Varlos Zadeer, was a capable ruler and had shepherded the nation through its many crisis - including the Kethsan Annexation, the Nagian Integration, and the Gogan-Infernal Purification War, there were those who were unsatisfied with his rule. Many found his style of governance stifling, particularly his emphasis on pre-destination in life and death.

Gogan tradition normally dictated that those unsatisfied with the Astral Emperor's rule could rebel in an organized manner. Many chose to do so, becoming autonomous from the Astral Empire for some time.

All of this changed with Emperor Varlos's second awakening. through unknown means, his psychic capabilities vastly deepened and he became an immortal being, one capable of phasing in and out of the Shroud at will. Having cemented his rule for all time, Varlos began to engage the breakaways and enforce his greater will upon his dominion.

Those unwilling chose to stand and fight, beginning a conflict that would effectively last for over a thousand years. Though none understood as they marched into war, the Millennium War became inextricably intertwined with the will of the Shroud which became instrumental in the war's perpetuation.

The rebels struggled at first, but they managed to win battle after battle and gain ground. It seemed the Shroud was more open-minded to the rebel's needs, its power more freely available. Even daemonic forces and the souls of those who came before could be convinced to fight for them.

But as the battle turned in favor of the rebels, who now called themselves the New Gogan Imperium, their fortunes seemed to wane and even turn in favor of their adversary. Thus the tide turned against the Imperium, up until the winds of fortune shifted again.

Thus did it seem like the conflict would be endless, and as war dragged on for years, then decades, and then centuries, nobody was sure if it would ever see its end. The conflict became a fact of life for people, in some cases almost ritualistically so. The conflict ebbed and rose many times over the years, as overtures of peace gave way to the same dissatisfaction that started the war in the first place.

No side could truly give in to the other. Varlos truly believed in his vision for the galaxy, claiming to have witnessed its unity in countless visions that still plague him. The rebels, meanwhile, wished to carve out their own path and their own futures, daunting though as it may be.

As the centuries turned to a millennium, something unexpected happened. A warrior for the rebels gained a new power, one detached from the Shroud, and began to fight independent of the rebels. His origin and name were unknown, but his capabilities were unquestionable. In a decisive battle against the Empire's forces, this warrior somehow defeated the Emperor and prevented his escape into the Shroud, forcing their body to be shattered into innumerable remnants. With the Astral Emperor's death, the Empire finally crumbled once and for all.

Tragically, the original core worlds of the Empire became enshrouded and vanished into the void, seemingly never to return, leaving behind only those fragments of Varlos's body. The great warrior who felled the Emperor was lost with them, and the victorious Gogan Imperium posthumously gave him the title of God-Shattering Star.

For many years, the Gogan people celebrated their final liberation from the Empire and from the tragedy that would be dubbed the Millennium War. Centuries of work and reform had shaped the new Imperial government into a work of bureaucratic art where anyone willing to put in the effort to become something they desire would have that chance, struggle as it might be.

And, for a time, there was peace.

[azure-steel]

❛ i know i ruined your life. i suffer for it every day. ❜

quotes that broke me - NO LONGER ACCEPTING @mezzomorendo

Cloud isn't certain of the context of this statement, though perhaps it could be attributed to their current dilemma; the fact that Strife was still struggling to navigate even the simplest of tasks.

The side effects of mako addiction were debilitating at best and some days were indeed worse than others, today being an especially terrible day where simply holding a spoon was next to impossible. In fact to the point where Zack was reduced to literally spoon feeding him himself.

Humiliating was putting it mildly, but when the body would quake and crave and his bones would rock against the shell of his flesh, it was all Cloud could do to just survive and 'go through the motions' as it were; to ride out the storm.

"No you didn't..." Cloud started then, his voice still a touch stuttered, his throat still dry and coarse. "... You ain't ruined anything. I owe you my life, yeah? I should be saying sorry to you for being such a dead weight..."

[literarycinematics]

so i`ve fallen back down the my immortal rabbit hole again (again), and i`ve been looking into the whole toby debacle and rose christo`s book and xXblo0dyxkissxX and ravenisaposer and all that jazz. and overall it just got me thinking about a lot of things.

of course there are obvious questions like whether it`s a troll or not and wtf was going on with the hackings, but i mostly just keep coming back to why the real tara and raven (if those are their real names) would keep hiding after all this time. are they too embarrassed? i mean, it`s been over 15 years, i doubt it would be held against them; they won`t get the same reaction today as they got back then. it has a cult following online and is pretty much unknown offline. do they not care enough to get involved? it`s so widely known, you`d think that even if they didn`t care they would still say something, especially with the amount of people who do care. are they just so far removed from this part of the internet that they don`t even know how big it`s gotten? i don`t buy that. even when they were still writing it, it was ridiculously popular by 2000s fanfiction standards. for this theory to be true, it would mean that one day in 2007 they just stopped interacting with any of their previous interests and forgot, never to even THINK about it again (not even enough to Google it or check out their old accounts!). this thing lasted 2 years and garnered massive amounts of both hate and support, so i find it unlikely that they just forgot about it.

as for theories that seem more likely to me, it`s very possible that the real author(s) confessed already, only to get drowned out by the noise of all the other sensationalized stories. there have been dozens of authorship claims that have been debunked or just straight-up waved away without any follow-up, so it`s not unlikely. it`s also completely possible that they just don`t want to relive bad memories associated with that era of their life/lives. that`s a valid decision. considering what the attitudes towards them were like at the time. the bullying they received was intense and disgusting, especially if they really were young teenagers, and/or were struggling with mental health problems. hell, maybe they just don`t want the media attention! we saw what happened with tara and raven, the acidbath princess of darkness, and how people doxxed and harrassed them to no end just for being teenagers having fun. it isn`t uncommon to want privacy.

assuming that it wasn`t a trollfic, there are also the sadder possibilities, situations wherein they are simply unable to tell anyone. they might not have the means or the freedom to come clean about it all (e.g. toxic relationships, imprisonment, extreme poverty), or perhaps simply can`t prioritize thinking about something so old and trivial (e.g. dealing with health or financial issues, familial strife). or, of course, the conclusion that i came to after my first foray into the my-immortal-verse: they`re dead. thousands of people have been looking for them for over a decade, and whether they want to be found or not, it seems...odd, that everything that`s come up has been a dead-end, that we don`t have any more idea now than we did then as to who wrote it. additionally, so much of my immortal included seriously heavy subjects, using sexual assault, pedophilia, self-harm, and suicide as plot devices to the point that it isn`t hard to imagine that if tara and raven truly were real people, telling at least partial truths about themselves, they were dealing with some serious suicidal ideation. a dark mental space of that kind would only have been magnified by the haters and hackings of their work, perhaps leading them to an irreversible decision, the permanent solution to any problem. held in tandem with the number of weird implications that raven died (yes, i know many of them were unrelated or complete lies, but that`s beside the point), it`s easy to come to the conclusion that one or both of the writers has passed away. and as much as i try to look at alternatives, that`s just what my mind keeps coming back to.

i believe that raven and tara were real people. fictionalized, yes, but they weren`t characters, and they weren`t writing a satire -- at least not fully. i think that they were teenage girls who were persecuted for having "weird" interests, who were considered overzealous or overpassionate, and who decided to vent their frustrations and express themselves through idealized versions of themselves on the internet. they used common alt names, or maybe took inspiration from teen titans, and started writing about the things they were into: vampires, gc, mcr, self-harm, satanism, etc. oh yeah, and harry potter. maybe they had fun with it, made it dramatic and dumb on purpose, but i think they had some degree of genuine intentions. the way they casually throw around topics like self-harm gives off the impression of kids just saying things they`ve heard online to express genuine emotions without a full understanding of what it really implies. not to mention, i know so, so many people who truly were outcasts in real life, who turned to writing bad mary-sue fanfiction on fanfiction.net (later wattpad and ao3) to help them cope with their loneliness. the author(s) of my immortal read the same way that a lot of people involved in 2000s emo internet subculture read, between the spellings and the slang and the interests, and i can totally imagine tara gilesbie being some misunderstood tween that got involved in it all. hence, i can totally imagine her getting hurt when her magnum opus started getting flamed.

and hey, if it was a troll, colour me impressed. they have my full respect for inventing such a weirdly believable and relatable "author", for giving us chronically online nerds a compelling mystery, for putting so much work into the interconnectedness and the meta-story of tara and raven`s accounts, and for writing quite literally the greatest piece of literature of all time. i can only hope that i can one day be as dedicated to something as that, because THAT is how you write a fucking parody. it`s just brilliant, what else can i say. i`ll even give all of the tara impersonators credit where credit is due; they gave us all one hell of a story. talk about committing to the bit. that said, the anti-climactic ending was distinctly un-troll-like though, so there`s that.

i sincerely hope that wherever tara and raven are nowadays, regardless of whether those were real identities or not, they`re living their best lives. if the intentions behind my immortal were genuine, i hope that tara is working as an alternative fashion designer and that raven is a professional book editor, both significantly healthier, happier, and more well-adjusted than they were when they wrote their masterpiece. if the whole thing was an elaborate joke, i hope that whoever made it is still taking pride in their insane creation, and that they appreciate the ridiculousness of just walking around, doing everyday things, while knowing in the back of their minds that they wrote my immortal. i hope beyond hope that none of my "sadder possibilities" for why they haven`t revealed themselves are true, and that there is a simpler, more mundane reason that they haven`t said anything. maybe they did just forget about it.

the thing, though, with my immortal is that it is almost impossible to come to a conclusion about anything because we know so damn little. without any real confirmed information, questions remain questions. have i made any good points throughout this whole thing? maybe. depends on what we assume to be true about the sincerity of...well, any of it. even within my own diatribe, i`ve contradicted my stance on raven and tara`s mental health struggles; were they broken down and spiralling, depicting dark scenarios that echoed their own problems with mental illness, or were they calling themselves "wrist-slitters" to sound edgy because that`s what they saw other people doing? i don`t know. i haven`t come to any concrete judgment and it`s possible that i never will. here`s hoping that sometime this decade we`ll finally find answers.

what happened with justin, if he existed? what happened between tara and raven? how authentic were the hackings? were the toby-tara emails real? was i secretly toby all along? if the fic was a troll, how many people were working on it? what was the inspiration behind it? troll or not, what`s dubya? why did it stop being written? how does the author feel about the false authorship claims, assuming they know about them? how do they feel about the mcr reunion tour? how old are they? and WHY THE FUCK DO WE STILL NOT KNOW WHO THEY ARE?

there`s not really a point to this whole rant, i just felt the need to express how i feel about this whole thing. i needed to get all of these thoughts out of my brain. there`ll be more in the future, i`m sure, because this is one thing that absolutely haunts me at night. i know i go on about november 5th and the way it broke tumblr but if we ever ACTUALLY learn who tara and raven are, with proof and everything, not a repeat of rose christo... that will be the day that we crash this goddamned hellsite.

[holly-fixation]

Ink Stained Cloud: Ch 1

Summary: Cloud Strife, after finally winning the war against Sephiroth, is torn back in time by the Calamity, damaging his brain and body permanently. Through tainted evolution, he becomes a squid like creature, constantly spewing the very disease he put his life on the line to prevent. The Calamity uses Cloud as a proxy to bring this world’s Sephiroth to her for the first time. Cloud fights with everything he has, trying to pull Sephiroth away in any way he can. Can he protect his fallen hero this time? Or will he fall to the clutches of the Calamity once again?

Inspired by this prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien . A rewrite/remake of Ink Clouds. 

Trigger warning: Body Horror

Chapter 1: I Will Not End

Wind swept through the air, wisping grains of sand and the parched soil of the Midgar planes with it. Land devoid of life due to Midgar's reactors spread for miles beyond the city, only the bravest and most persistent plants taking root in the sediment. Not long ago, a cliff overlooking the city proudly held the blade that protected him all those years ago. 

A last stand. Dreams. Honor. Living legacy. 

Cloud never forgot. They moved the rusting Buster Sword to the church in Sector Five after the Geostigma eradication. Yes, it still hurt to see that sword or step inside that church, but they belonged together. Knowing they were in the Lifestream together as always turned a soft smile on his face. 

But today wasn’t a day of mourning or a day of joy. He stepped off his motorcycle and locked it in place, looking at the view of the city. He stepped closer to where the blade laid for the longest time, no indent remaining in the useless soil. This was a day of thanks. He kneeled down and placed a hand where his friend, his protector, took his final breath. Silently, he closed his eyes and ran every memory of his friend through his mind. The visions flooded his emotions, and he took a strangled breath against them before steeling himself. 

Thank you for saving me. 

Thank you for your sacrifice. 

Thank you for your aid.

I know you’d laugh at me for doing something this sappy, but…

All I can say is thank you.

He inhaled to regulate his breath before patting the soil down. Through all their pain, through all their suffering and experiments and otherworldly monsters, Cloud was happy. He was finally happy with the life he created. The life he was given. The life he would never throw away-

Suddenly bright blue orbs flashed through his sight, claiming his strength, and he fell to the ground instantly, hissing and scratching in his mind, his eyes squeezed with an invisible force. It clutched his heart, pulling him down by…

By a string.

No.

His sight kept shifting between the struggling city and the blue orbs rushing through some invisible liquid. Flashes of white and dark. Flashes of mako. Flashes of Lifestream. 

Flashes of a single pink glowing eye, glaring, searing, corroding his mind.

No!

High pitched scratching and ringing, like nails on a chalkboard but softer, soft enough to fake a promise of a dream that was not his clawed through his mind. He tried to force himself up, yet his body remained glued as if in the midst of a gravity spell. He tried to grab his phone, but his unstable and disoriented sight made it impossible to use. His useless ears were trapped in the realm of the ringing screeches, ruining the option completely.

Through the ringing came laughter. A cosmic, galactic, transient voice echoed in his mind, eternally growing and blooming until it drowned all else. His hearing, his sight, his touch and taste and smell all failed him to that singular being. That calamity. That plague. That monster. That parasite that spread its virus through this world enough times-

All at once, the ringing and laughter silenced. His senses returned just in time to find falling through the air, completely out of control as his body flipped and twisted against his will, whipping wind scratching past him. Light blue, dark blue, light blue, dark blue. The pattern repeated in a blur across his sight through his spinning body, before he crashed into a deep mass of water. The force of the impact broke his body, his legs and ribs snapping like he slammed onto concrete.

His lungs seared as his panicked breaths forced the liquid through them, unable to stop himself, to hold, to force his body to obey. He pushed the water with his arms and tried to break the surface, but his sandy sight was only getting darker as he sank further and further into the abyss. He was going to pass out if he didn’t make it out. If he was lucky, he'd survive at all. He needed to get out. He had to-

But no. He wasn’t going to pass out. He wasn’t going to die. He was going to suffer for what he did. For his betrayal. For halting their plans. He would suffer every moment through a cursed new existence.

The bones of his legs snapped into three perfectly split rods, shooting up from his feet through his hips, and he screamed with all the air his body retained through the bubbles trapping him below. Every crack and readjustment kept his mind perfectly lucid as he tried, gods he tried, to end it in any way he could, trying to claw his way to what remained of his own legs. Trying to stop this ungodly attack. But nothing attacked him. Every tear came from the inside, stretching, and ripping, and twisting what remained of his legs, coiling them like steel cables and he couldn’t break free. 

As the last of the air in his body was claimed by the unforgiving sea, the twisted pieces rolled over like dominos, crackling and flipping his skin to a smooth, purple rubber, before stretching. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as he released what he thought was his last breath. But he was graced- cursed- by another through the same salty liquid, with absolutely no stinging pain to his lungs as it entered as smooth as silk. The odd chittering and shifting of what used to be his legs left him cringing and tensing before it, too, finally stopped at the very tip of the remaining limb. 

He dared open his eyes, ignoring the futility of the dark water that blocked his sight, but the darkness began to fade. Mako glowed from both his eyes and a faint dome in the distance, and soon he could see the crisp white floor of sand, the various swaying plants moving with the tide, and a dozen schools of fish. His instincts told him to look around, to search the area, but he forced his eyes to focus down, to see if his legs were….

His legs were gone, replaced by long purple tentacles anchored to a new wrapping of lavender around his waist. Six tentacles moved in perfect symmetry to keep him afloat, their circulating pattern suddenly calling memories of swirling pink clouds, a blue sky, and a heartless angel. 

That angel- that madman couldn’t do something like this. He was dead, destroyed and shoved back in the Lifestream multiple times, killed by him again and again. He didn’t have the strength to attack even if he wanted to. It was too soon since his last attempt at claiming the planet. But the calamity, his ‘mother’, the virus, the plague, the alien, was always vengeful, and would do anything for her son. He felt that now, felt it in every remaining bone in his body.

This Reunion was stronger than the one winged angel's, claws and vines rooted even deeper around his strangled heart. Cloud couldn’t help but scan the terrain for any semblance of help or even something he could use, anyone he could talk to or anything to break him free.

A silver school of interwoven fish swam past him in the beauty of the tide, shimmering and glistening in the mako light. His eyes followed as they swam away, a single thought claiming his mind. 

Pretty… 

Cloud suddenly snapped his gaze up. What was that? Why did that happen? How did that distract him? He needed to focus, to leave the waters and call for help. 

Soon red coral claimed his attention as he followed the unnaturally familiar shape it formed on its own: the body of a woman, curving and spreading with large angled masses, almost like wings. 

A warning. A mockery. A punishment. An attack. A symbol daring to remind him of It: that which nearly destroyed the planet. 

His train of thought vanished again as he analyzed the long stalks of seaweed all over the ground, wave like strands pulling memories of the Lifestream. He forced it back with every shred of his will. Calamity. Its son. The one winged angel. 

Loud rumbling from above pulled his mind away once more. His first instinct connected the sound to a possible monster, something primed to attack, and he had nowhere to run. Nowhere to call shelter. Terror claimed his heart, and dark, murky clouds began blooming around him. They entered his sight and he flinched away from them. But they followed, forming even larger, even faster as Cloud’s new breath rapidly increased, his fear, his anxiety flooding his thoughts. 

He needed to survive. He needed to run- swim. To escape. To leave. To live. His new tentacles pushed him away before his mind gave the command, moving him gracefully through the ever tainting liquid.

Little did he know that the more he moved in this accursed new body, the faster he spread the deadly virus he spent two years trying to cure. Little did he know that every moment in this world brought upon a new pandemic in the age before the Nibelheim Incident locked fate and the Lifestream on its battling course.

.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading!

Author’s note: Ink Cloud’s was the first fanfiction I wrote, but I had so many ideas and so many simple things I wanted to expand and fix. The pacing was a mess before, but I really like the idea. I wanted to do it justice. That prompt stuck with me, but I was a little too excited back then trying to get this posted as quickly as possible. 

This rewrite will not be exactly the same. This is a test of my abilities, how far I’ve grown, and just what I could’ve done if I didn’t limit myself 1,500 words per chapter for absolutely no reason (I promise future chapters will be longer but this felt more like a prologue than connected to the coming chapter). Descriptions will change. Scenes will change. New things will happen. Conversations won’t suddenly cut off (because I wanted to go to sleep but I also wanted a chapter a day, which was far too unreasonable for my schedule). I stand by most of my plot based decisions from back then, but I feel I understand these characters better now, and I want to expand this to the fullest.

Happy one year anniversary to my first fic! I posted Ink Clouds on tumblr a few months before I got an ao3 so the dates are a little different. Thank you for reading! I hope you stick around!

[multiplicity-positivity]

what the fuck am i meant to do if being a system is still completely miserable. i've tried so fucking hard to get anything out of this and i'm sick of it. i'm sick of seeing how so many years of effort has amounted to absolutely nothing no matter what approach i take when someone who has known for like a month is happier about this than i am. i'll probably be dead before i get anything positive out of this whatsoever

hey, thank you so much for reaching out to us. we’re sorry to hear that you’re struggling so much and system life has been difficult for you. we’re not sure what you’re looking for here, be it some advice, encouragement, or just a listening ear. we do have some words for you, but we’re putting them under a cut in case you don’t want to hear any advice/encouragement and were just looking to vent (which is always welcome here, by the way).

okay first, we’ll say that we know it’s difficult, but comparing yourself to other systems is only going to cause you more pain and strife in the long run. every system is different. every system’s personal journey is unique. and just because some systems are able to get along perfectly with excellent communication after only a couple months of trying… that doesn’t mean every system can or should function that way.

if it’s any consolation, our system also struggles a lot due to our plurality. we have parts who fight, communication can still be difficult to manage, balancing everyone’s interests and desires can be overwhelming, and dealing with dissociation and cptsd symptoms on top of everything else makes life often feel abysmal and hopeless. it took us years to achieve the level of communication and comfort with each other that we have today, and even then, we’re not exactly stable. we can assure you, you’re not alone in feeling like you’ve made no progress with your system. there are lots of folks out there who have been in your shoes, or are currently dealing with similar situations.

for many, many systems, especially those of us with dissociative disorders, life is very hard. learning to accept your plurality is hard. learning to cope with your trauma history is hard. learning to communicate and get along with your alters is hard. it’s all extremely difficult, and you are absolutely owed a bit of credit.

you’re here. you’re alive. that is a major accomplishment! and we’re very proud of you for making it this far.

also, you’ve been trying. you’ve spent years attempting to make progress. that also counts for something - your efforts deserve to be recognized, even if you feel like they have been fruitless so far.

recovery is a very long process. we’re not sure if you’re in therapy, but if you’re going at it alone, it can be a monumental task and often feel impossible. and when you’re in the thick of it, it can be quite difficult to see the progress you’ve made, or feel like anything has changed at all. we don’t know you personally, but it could be that you have made progress - it’s just hard for you to recognize or see it at this time.

if anything, know that we see you. we recognize your efforts and while we cannot understand the unique pain you’re going through, we sympathize and have seriously struggled ourselves. even if you really have made absolutely no progress, we have faith in you and we know that it won’t always be this way. please don’t give up. please keep trying. and look after your mind and body too, while you’re at it.

we believe in you. we’re wishing you and your whole system the very best with healing, building communication, and founding positive, happy, healthy relationships. and if you never get there, know that you are still deserving of love and acceptance just the way you are. we seriously hope that you can find that, friend.

[kuhatoarchive]

this was it — they stood at the precipice of the world's end. meteor swarmed overhead, sephiroth awaited them at the planets core, countless lives have been lost along the way... and yet, where one would expect trepidation and fear? cloud found peace. there was something so freeing about only having two possible outcomes. either they made it, or they didn't. but it was this that mattered, being able to stand face to face with the possible destruction of all and still having it in him to say no, to refuse to accept it, knowing that he would fight no matter what.

it took him too long to see it, to really get it... but cloud? he wanted to live. he wanted to protect those he cared so much for, to one day pay back all the love and sacrifices made for him that got him to where he was now.

he was cloud strife. he wasn't a great mercenary. he was never SOLDIER. he'd never been that great of a person, really, if you asked him. he'd always just been... himself.

and that was enough.

this time? he does not hesitate to hold her hand. long past was the time of his pride and shame holding him back - the eyes that look into tifa's? gratitude incarnate. maybe they never really knew each other before life threw them on these train tracks, strangers to both themselves and each other...

but cloud wouldn't change a thing now.

"thank you. for everything. for never giving up on me."

best read while listening to "together" by nine inch nails /jk

  unprompted.   ♡  * always accepting !  @vctlan.

   premonitions—vague hunches they were—had never denied her, even if she postponed their acknowledgement. but today, sitting here, the air shy from lukewarm and the night sky star-littered, she feels a stab of mortification like a thrill that courses old pathways within her: she can’t imagine the end, whichever outcome that may be, and from it stems a numbness she could have mistaken for peace in any other situation. 

   everything, even herself, feels up in the air, the same way the highwind looms over. placid. waiting.

   tifa wonders how she doesn’t gasp or retch or sob as her body struggles to contain the paradoxical truth. that, as it stands, they are as alive as they are dead. she holds the feeling against herself, keeping it there, beating; this is life. this is proof that she has come this far, that the memories were worth it, that the stars are watching how hard they have fought, and will still. it’s the most fear she has ever felt, and she’s glad she survived to be able to. 

   above all, she’s glad cloud is here. if some don’t return, if none of them do, she thinks she can bear anything having him beside, holding onto the hand that reaches for hers. she feels every bit of herself gather at the touch, half-afraid she is imagining it. no… gone is the time of mirages. his gratitude is true and his own and it holds her in place, thinking, there isn’t a world where he’s worth giving up on.

   his words set her free, somehow. their simplicity and earnestness. the steady hold of his gaze and the sureness of his grasp. it fits into the broad scheme of her consciousness like a tessellate, safekept to invoke before the final battle along the images of her family, nibelheim and its townsfolk, aerith, their crew, all the people she met in her time at sector 7 or her travels. a constellation.

   “...it’s because you never stopped fighting your way back.” to us. to me. it’s not hiding if she knows he gets her meaning by now. it’s tucked, too, in the creasing of her eyes, a smile forming. “after all that has happened… there’s still fight in you. it... makes me give it my all, too. i should thank you for that, leader.” another tifa might have figured her sigh would be a prelude to tears. instead, she chuckles, a small, brief sound to accompany her attempt at lightheartedness. 

   another hand rises to cup the one she holds, placing it atop his. her breathing is different now. quiet. her mind oscillates between reality and dream. hope, perhaps. “...we’ll be okay.” 

   against the beginning and end, in whatever order they may come.

[whoseafraidofliloleme]

I AM HERE FOR THE SECOND TIME TODAY AND I HAVE A LOT TO SAY!!! FIRST OFF I LOVED EVERYTHING ABT THIS STORY!!!!

the actual enemies (or at least very bitter rivals) to lovers, the drama, the chois showing up all of a sudden like what???? it was better than i could have expected

i think this yn is my fave yn so far. which is saying a lot but she felt so real!! her struggles with her self-esteem and learning that she's nore than what her family told her to be and that she deserves to be loved and cherishes both platonically and romantically <333

AND I HAD SMTH ELSE TO SAY ABT ONE CHAPTER IN PARTICULAR BUT I! CAN'T! REMEMBER!!!

anyways i think i said pretty much all i needed to say in the tags but i loved this smau sm <3 fave character obviously our dear ynwon shipper. or beomgyu. actually it's probs beomgyu i love him <33

a final question: why did you decide to add beomgyu, yeonjun and soobin? did you have it planned from the start, like them specifically? and who was YOUR favorite character??

i'll be reading your new(ish) ynwon au probably not tomorrow but the day after bc i'm gonna have a busy day (9h & a half of classes and then i'm going to a 2010 pop themed party! fun!!)

as always, have a good night and i hope you're doing ok <3 if you're ever not, you can always talk to me <33

ITS ME, HI IM THE PROBLEM ITS ME!! *ANTI HERO BEING MY ANTHEM SAYS A LOT ABOUT ME*

Moving on from that, I'm glad you loved the story so much. It's always wonderful to know that readers love what I write. Like yeah I mainly wrote for myself but the praise tho I feel it's unneeded (I'm always gonna be finding things I couldve done better 😂).

Honestly this story really took a life of its own. I say that with every smau tbh, I start with one idea and then by the end it's a different but still somehow similar idea that I started it 😂.

I'm so glad this YN is ur fave. She's struggling so much even if everything was okay cause her inner demons were always there, they didn't disappear and her learning to lean on those around her, accept that she is loved and cared for was very important to me.

I also was very cautious in that I didn't villainize YN for these very real feelings that everyone feels.

God knows I've been through moments of self hatred and I wanted to show that it's never as bad as you think. You might think your all alone but there is always someone there for you to talk to. I know that YN frustrated readers when she let her insecurities get in the way of her happiness but that is a reality that sometimes you get so in your head that you think what your doing is best when it isn't.

Sorry went on a whole tangent abt this YN 😂😅.

I loved your reactions in the tags, pls don't stop them, they were the best and I need them for every story now 😂😂.

Beomgyu was his chaotic self and I loved him for it 😂. @nyxtwixx being your fave character cracks me up honestly.

Oooh good question. I don't necessarily plan my smaus tbh. I just have the rough idea then it's chapter by chapter. Which if you've noticed is why chapter titles tend to change quite a bit cause I change my mind or this one idea doesn't work but this other idea for the next chapter works better.

I love txt and Soobin is my bias so I was always going to include him. Yeonjun and Beomgyu kinda just came along too. The idea to have them be triplets came and I ran with it. All three of them were gonna cause more chaos and strife with there being actual feelings still there with Sooyn but I decided against that after considering how much YN is dealing with low self esteem and self hatred. In the end I love the bond they have 🫶🏼🫶🏼.

If I can give another rec, I suggest reading Peace that's my other HP au but it's Jay this time and it's Gossip Girl meets Harry Potter. (I just wanna know your views on that 😂).

Take your time, the new Jungwon fic will be there just a word of warning, I'm sorry if Hyunjin is your bias... That's about all the spoiler I'll give you in regards to that smau.

Don't get burned out with so much school!! And have fun at that party sounds like it'll be a great time!!.

Same goes to you, if you ever want to vent or just chat, I'm here 🫶🏼🫰🏼.

[thatanthagirl]

Relapse In the Church

Many who attend church today were once in a life of addiction. In fact, we all were addicted to something as alcohol and drugs are not the only addiction. Some were addicted to adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envying, murders, revelry, etc. (Galatians 5). Through the Power and Mercy of Jesus Christ, we have been delivered and have been set free from the chains that once had us bound.

In our previous lives where we were bound by addiction, we stated many times over, ‘I’m not hurting anyone but myself,’ ‘My actions aren’t affecting anyone else’, ‘It’s my life’, etc. In time, we experienced true clarity, and we then took responsibility for our actions and came to the realization that we had hurt everyone around us and realized we adversely affected our spouse, our children, our parents, our friends, etc.

Once we see the Light and are set free from the things that had us bound, we have a responsibility to be a light to others who are in their own struggles.

The issue is that many who sit on the church pews, relapse into the old mindset they had when they were living a life of addiction and the old, ‘I’m not hurting anyone but myself’ attitude infiltrates the church. If I am not faithful to church as I once was, I’m not hurting anyone but myself. If I don’t pray and read the Word of God like I once did, I’m not hurting anyone but myself. If I don’t have the same love I first had when Jesus found me, I’m not hurting anyone but myself. If I don’t progress and mature in my Christian walk, it’s not hurting anyone but myself. If I have lost my joy, it’s only hurting me. The truth is we are doing the same thing we did when we were addicted to the things of the world – we hurt those around us, and we have adverse effect on those who are still in the darkness and looking for a light to show them a way out. We have relapsed.

We were not saved in order to just sit on church pews, play defense, and ‘hold the fort’ until Jesus comes back. We are to be on the offensive and become warriors who go to help others find freedom. We were saved because Jesus loves us, and He saved us to be a light to others. We are to progress, grow, and mature in our walk. Many times, if we examine ourselves, we will find that we are regressing more than we are progressing.

Apostle Paul instructed Timothy to stir up the inner fire:

2 Timothy 1:6-7 (AMPC) "That is why I would remind you to stir up (rekindle the embers of, fan the flame of, and keep burning) the [gracious] gift of God, [the inner fire] that is in you by means of the laying on of my hands [with those of the elders at your ordination]. For God did not give us a spirit of timidity (of cowardice, of craven and cringing and fawning fear), but [He has given us a spirit] of power and of love and of calm and well-balanced mind and discipline and self-control."

We are also to be the salt of the earth, but what good are we if we lose our strength and quality:

Matthew 5:13-16 (AMPC) "You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste (its strength, its quality), how can its saltness be restored? It is not good for anything any longer but to be thrown out and trodden underfoot by men. You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do men light a lamp and put it under a peck measure, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. Let your light so shine before men that they may see your moral excellence and your praiseworthy, noble, and good deeds and recognize and honor and praise and glorify your Father Who is in heaven."

Are we progressing. We need to examine ourselves.

2 Corinthians 13:5 (AMPC) "Examine and test and evaluate your own selves to see whether you are holding to your faith and showing the proper fruits of it."

— author unknown

[yeniasworld]

Alright, fam, gather ‘round, let’s spill the tea,

This is my journey, wild and free,

In a world painted with vibrant hues,

I’m here to share my truth, my views.

From the tender age of twelve, I bloomed,

A body molded, wrapped in the gloom,

Matured too fast, like a star in the dark,

Men older than me, lurking, leaving a mark.

At fifteen, I learned to navigate fear,

With my crew on speed dial, their voices near,

Walking through shadows, heart racing loud,

But anchored in love, I stood fierce and proud.

Let’s talk realness, let’s break this down,

Underage hearts ain’t toys to be tossed around,

Love’s a lesson, a dance, a song,

And youth is a fire that’s burning strong.

In cultures where girls are wed at age twelve,

Where dreams get buried, and voices shelved,

But I stood my ground, I claimed my space,

Navigating life at my own damn pace.

Then came a boy, bright eyes and a smile,

Seventeen and sweet, made my heart race a mile,

He slid into my DMs, with charm and flair,

But I knew my worth—love's more than a dare.

We vibed in the park, laughed 'til we cried,

Shared dreams and secrets, with nothing to hide,

But I held my ground, set my own rules,

No rush to the bedroom, just two hearts as fools.

He wanted my heart, but I needed my peace,

No crossing those lines, just love on a lease,

At eighteen, we’d talk, then we’d take it slow,

Building a connection, letting our love grow.

Then came Alexx, wise and refined,

Sixty-one years, with stories entwined,

A photographer’s eye, capturing life,

We traveled through Europe, free from the strife.

In his van, we journeyed, just living our dreams,

Creating magic together, or so it seems,

No need for the bedroom, just laughter and light,

In every shared moment, we soared like a kite.

I learned from his wisdom, his patience, his grace,

In this dance of our lives, we found our place,

He taught me to breathe, to just let it be,

In the glow of his presence, I felt truly free.

But let’s keep it real, I’m still on this quest,

To understand love, to know what is best,

Navigating spaces where hearts intertwine,

With queer love’s power, we all redefine.

So here’s to the lovers, the young and the wise,

In every connection, let’s rise and surprise,

With every heartbeat, let’s raise our voice,

In the glow of our truth, we all rejoice.

I’ve danced with the youth, tasted the thrill,

With Bradley, the boy who taught me to feel,

His youthful energy ignited my soul,

In a world of connection, we made each other whole.

Now I reflect, as I stand here today,

With lessons learned, in my own special way,

From the struggles and triumphs, the love that we share,

I’m grateful for all, for the moments laid bare.

Let’s talk about healing, the journey inside,

The battles we fight, the times we’ve cried,

In this tapestry woven with threads of our past,

We rise like the phoenix, our spirits steadfast.

So let’s keep it moving, let’s keep it bright,

In this tapestry of love, we take flight,

With open hearts and minds, let’s dance through the night,

In the glow of our truth, we’ll shine ever so bright.