#ESPECIALLY when all might is wallowing in confusion

[plusultraetc]

in a hypothetical office-style UA faculty sitcom I honestly can't tell if it's funnier if Aizawa stares into the camera more than anyone or if he has no reaction to anything ever

[wosospacegirl]

I absolutely falling, literally, could we have some headcannons about aggie and reader?

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: soft girlfriend

Read more about Aggie and reader here

..

Period

-> Y/n and Aggie have a full-on, printed-out period protocol, and it is not even a joke. This isn’t some casual list of dos and don’ts, it’s a serious survival guide–at least for Aggie. 

-> Aggie keeps it tucked away in the drawer of their coffee table, laminated for easy access. It’s color-coded and everything, a true masterpiece of precautionary planning. 

-> Y/n, bless her, turns into the most irrational, moody, and dramatic version of herself when her period hits, and over the years, Aggie’s learned the hard way that the only way to survive these few days is with a well-organized, foolproof system. You might think that Aggie is being melodramatic, but no, she needs it!

-> It all started a few months after they moved in. Y/n had been snappy all day, until they had a whole fight about it, and Aggie realized something had to change. So, she did what any practical, logical person would do: she created the "Y/n’s Period Protocol."

-> The rules are simple–but sacred!

Give her space:  at least an hour of alone time to wallow in her feelings.

Snacks on demand: Aggie’s job is to keep a steady supply of comfort food, with a special emphasis on chocolate and carbs. No questions asked. No judgment.

The "Just Ask" rule:  Whenever Y/n says, “I don’t know what I need!” Aggie has to respond with, “What do you want, babe?” to remind her that she’s not the only one who’s been hit with the ‘hormonal roller coaster,’ and that Aggie, unfortunately, does not read minds.

No logic allowed: Aggie’s learned not to try and reason with Y/n when she’s deep in her period-induced emotions. Logic? Gone. Trying to explain how ridiculous the argument is? Forget it. Let it go.

Cuddles and TV: The protocol mandates at least three hours of binge-watching their favorite comfort shows. But the deal behind it? Aggie has to keep quiet and just cuddle with Y/n until she feels ok again.

-> The first time she showed it to Y/n, she was half-expecting Y/n to laugh it off, but instead, Y/n burst into tears and thanked her for creating it. Saying something about ‘being loved is to be seen’, Aggie had never heard of this before, but she enjoyed the kiss Y/n gave on her cheek.

-> “You really do care,” Y/n sniffled between sobs, and Aggie had to hold back a smile.

-> "Of course I care," Aggie had replied, “Now…let’s read the protocol…what do you need right now? And be specific, please.

-> It’s become a ritual over time. Whenever Y/n’s period arrives, Aggie is ready. She’s got the chocolate stash, the fluffy blankets, and the TV remote. The protocol has become a symbol of their love and patience, and understanding of each other’s quirks

-> Especially for Aggie, since she had a hard time dealing with Y/n when she was on her period. Aggie is very logical and pragmatic, and when Y/n was PMSing? She became the complete opposite of it.

Disagreements

-> When Aggie and Y/n have a disagreement, it’s a weird mix of frustration and confusion, because they genuinely don’t like staying mad at each other. They’re both quick to want to resolve things, but the problem is they’re more irritated that they’re arguing in the first place than by whatever the issue actually was.

-> Their relationship it’s just so chill that when they’re not on the same page, it feels like the world is falling apart, even if it is something small. Because why the hell is this weird feeling in Aggie's chest? Is this what normal couples feel when they fight

-> Their arguments are never the dramatic, shouting kind. Instead, it’s this quiet, unspoken tension that fills the air completely.

-> It’s not a battle of words, or who is right and who is wrong. Both of them just walk around the apartment pretending the other doesn’t exist, trying to act like nothing’s wrong when everything feels heavy.

->Every movement feels more deliberate, like even the smallest gesture carries some kind of weight. There are no sharp words–just the silence of two people who don't know how to fix whatever is broken.

-> Neither of them is particularly good at staying mad, but they are both stubborn people. The argument will end in a matter of who’ll crack first. Y/n, being a little less stubborn than Aggie, tends to be the first one to break, and it drives her nuts when she knows she’s the one who has to make the first move.

-> She usually sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes and muttering, “Okay, I’m gonna order some pizza… You want some or…?”

-> She tried to sound casual, but she couldn't hide the hint of hope in her voice that maybe, just maybe, Aggie can stop ignoring her and that Y/n can also stop being annoying. It's like a truce.

-> That’s when the silence breaks, and Aggie–who might have been too proud to speak first– finally says. "Yeah, okay. I’m sorry," she says quietly, and Y/n can’t help but smile, despite everything.

->I t’s in those moments, when the tension finally evaporates, that they realize just how silly their argument was in the first place. They always end up kissing it out. No matter how they got there, they always came back to each other.

Losing

-> Y/n and Aggie couldn’t be more different in how they handle losses, and they are complete opposites. Y/n has this incredible ability to just brush things off, to deal with things quickly. While she definitely cares, her approach to losing is all about keeping it light.

-> She jokes, makes a little joke about how the universe seems to be playing a prank on the Arsenal team, and somehow manages to stay upbeat.

-> It's almost like she refuses to let one bad game weigh her down for too long.

-> Aggie, on the other hand, takes losses hard. She doesn’t have the same ability to move on quickly, and her emotions run deep. When she loses, it’s like she goes through the entire stages of emotions. First, there’s the anger, fueled by pure frustration at herself.

-> She blames herself for every mistake, and she tears herself down, frustrated that she couldn't have done better.

-> Then, the anger shifts to the team. She gets snappy, frustrated with everyone around her, even though she doesn't mean to take it out on them. Next comes the referees–because, of course, they’re always the ones to blame in her mind when things don’t go right.

-> But the hardest part is when she goes quiet. Once the anger fades, she retreats into herself and kinda of withdraws completely. She doesn’t want to talk to anyone–not even Y/n!

-> She isolates herself, hiding away in their room and shutting the world out.

-> Y/n always knows when it’s that stage. She doesn’t try to push Aggie out of her shell or anything. Instead, she gives her the space she needs, letting her process in her own way. Y/n might be frustrated too, but she understands that sometimes silence is what Aggie needs most.

-> And then, when Aggie can’t stand the silence any longer, she walks over, quietly sitting beside Y/n. Without a word, she lets her head fall into Y/n’s lap, silently asking for comfort only Y/n can provide. Y/n doesn’t need to say anything. She just lets her hand gently run through Aggie’s hair.

-> “Better games are coming,” Y/n will whisper softly, trying to remind that one bad game doesn’t define who Aggie is.

-> “You’re gonna bounce back, like you always do.” And no matter the outcome–whether Aggie’s team has just lost to Arsenal, Y/n’s team–Y/n holds space for her, letting her know that defeat is just…temporary. It's never easy, but Y/n always helps her find.

..

Notes: Please let me know what you guys think about it.

More about Aggie and reader here

[residentrookie]

duty calls!

***a hockey jegulus microfic, 1k words (cw: blood, broken nose resetting)***

as soon as regulus hears the crack, he knows what he has to do.

the opponent’s stick came flying out of nowhere, a direct hit to james potter’s perfect— in regulus’ esteemed opinion— nose, making his head snap back with the force of the hit. the blood gushed instantly, hot and red and angry as it streamed over his mouth and down his chin, so there was really no question.

broken. 100% broken.

after a lifetime spent watching hockey, and briefly playing it before deciding it was not for him, regulus hardly bats an eye at the casual violence of the sport anymore. still, seeing the his boyfriend’s face break repeatedly as the hit is replayed from different angles on the jumbotron makes him wince— simultaneously sympathyic and empathetic, since he’s experienced the sensation himself before. it’s not pleasant. not that james is likely to waste time wallowing over something as insignificant as a broken nose, especially when they still have a game to win. as if to prove regulus’ point, james’ team pulls him away and launches at the player retroactively, giving regulus a perfect view of james’ face, or more specifically the blood staining his white teeth red as he grins devilishly at the player, unfazed and undaunted. the game starts back up as soon as james’ blood has been wiped up from the ice.

when the buzzer sounds, releasing the teams for their second intermission, regulus calmly stands and makes his way toward the locker room. duty calls.

“players and staff only,” the security guard tells him at the door.

“just tell them regulus black is here,” regulus says wearily. “they’re expecting me.”

the security guard looks at him suspiciously before disappearing inside, likely looking forward to returning and telling regulus he’s welcome to fuck right off.

regulus sighs heavily. oh the things he does for james potter.

the door opens quickly, and the thoroughly confused looking security guard re-emerges to usher him inside.

it takes him all of one second to locate james, even though he’s almost completely obscured by medical staffers making attempts to set his nose. he waves them off agitatedly before catching sight of regulus approaching. regulus knows james forgets his nose is broken because he smiles before his brain can remind him how poor of an idea that is— what the warning signs failed to do, the pain takes care of seconds later. he instantly winces, which likely hurts just as bad, and regulus hurries towards him.

“stop that, you idiot,” he hisses fondly, kneeling before james. he settles his hands on his knees, looking up at the bruised face before him.

“canb heb it,” james returns incomprehensively. there are two long wads of toilet paper stuffed up each nostril to slow the bleeding. regulus knows that’s all james would let them do until he got here. “‘m habby to see ew.”

“yeah i’m habby to see ew too,” regulus mocks him teasingly. “be happier if i didn’t have to do this shit anymore. don’t you know better than to get in the way of some asshole’s stick? you’re supposed to be a fucking professional!”

james looks affronted. “he swunb ah me.” he points to himself for emphasis.

“yeah, yeah,” regulus mumbles, knowing he’s putting off the inevitable.

“ew ready?” james asks him.

“are you?” he returns, deflecting. james almost smiles again, but nods for him to continue.

“hold on,” a physical trainer, new by the look of him, cuts in from behind. “he’s setting your nose?” the disbelief in his voice echoes around the room. regulus might feel offended if he didn’t also agree with this sentiment.

“he has to,” peter, their goalie replies harshly. as if the medical professional is the crazy one here.

the poor guy looks around helplessly, suddenly the recipient of every players harsh glare.

“but he’s—“ regulus assumes he’s about to say ‘some random fucking guy’ before switching tactics, speaking directly to regulus. “do you even have the proper training?” he demands.

“does doing this four times before count as the proper training?” he returns dryly. the staffer looks surprised at this, so regulus graciously fills in the blanks as quickly as possible.

“look, it’s not you. it’s a superstition thing. i set his nose during a game once in a very desperate situation years ago and then, unfortunately for me, they won. when it happened again, james insisted i do it again and they won. again. they’ve won every game i’ve had to set it. so naturally…”

the staffer nods, eyes awash with new understanding. “you have to do it now. right. no, i get it. just um. do your thing, i guess.”

with that semblance of approval, regulus turns back around to face james.

regulus reaches up, eyes locked on the crooked nose before him. he breathes, knowing the exact motion he needs to make, his hands far too familiar with the bloody job for his liking. if it were anyone else, anyone in the entire world, he’d be miles away from this locker room, far removed from the blood and gore and messiness. but the task of caring for james falls firmly and unquestionably under his jurisdiction.

james’ eyes stay trained on him, pupils blown wide from pain or perhaps something else entirely.

regulus looks into them, notes the complete trust pooling in those dark brown irises, and nods quickly to himself. then, in one fast motion, he pulls the nose down with just enough force to emit a small “pop” as the cartilage slots back into its proper place. james’s barely even winces, eyes still trained on regulus.

“good?” regulus asks, moving james’ face side to side to inspect for any more damage.

“gub,” james replies calmly.

regulus makes to stand when james’ hands latch onto his wrists possessively. “ew forgot someding.”

regulus can’t keep the smile from his face even as he rolls his eyes. he knew exactly what he was “forgetting” to do. but it is, however, a sacred and crucial part of this tradition. he leans down and captures james’ lips in as chaste of a kiss as he can manage in a lockerroom full of hooting men while still maintaining a shred of his dignity.

james’ eyes sparkle when he pulls away.

“now go win this, potter,” regulus orders him as he backs away.

this time, james doesn’t let the pain stop him from grinning back.

they win the game.

[cozzzynook]

I'm in a hurt /comfort mood, so I bring some Earthspark Prowlbee.

Ever since Breakdown's betrayal Bumblebee wasn't sure what to do with himself. Between the mix of anger and hurt he couldn't quiet shake the feeling of love he still had for the mech and it was driving him crazy! Why couldn't he just move on and forget!? Letting out a sigh Bee just slumped further onto the desk hoping to wallow in his own self pity for a while.

"Still sulking over that glitch, are we?" Prowl spoke as he leaned against the wall with crossed arms.

"Yeah, pretty much..." Bee grumbled as he turned his helm to the side to look at Prowl. "You wouldn't happen to have any tips to get over an ex, do you?"

"None that Optimus would approve of" Prowl scoffed as he walked over before placing a comforting servo on Bee's shoulder. "But are you doing okay? I heard it was pretty serious..."

Flicking his door wings Bumblebee sat up before letting out a short sigh. "It was and now I feel stupid for thinking such a thing. I should seen it sooner, especially since he always called me 'brother' than sweet spark of all things"

"Wow" Prowl let out a short scoff "Brother zoned then betrayed all by the same mech, you really know how to pick them, Bee"

"Oh come on Prowler!" Standing to his pedes Bee turned to face the black and white mech fully. His door wings flared and twitched when he spotted the un bothered expression on the mech's face. "You of all bots should know what it feels like to be betrayed by someone you thought you'd loved!"

Letting out a sigh, Prowl only rolled his optics as he re crossed his arms. "That's true, but just between us" Taking a step closer Prowl allowed his field to reach out and brush along Bee's own field, sending small waves of lust. "I wouldn't treat you the same way like he did, little Bee"

Feeling his face grow warmer Bumblebee let out a soft confused chuckled. "W-What?" His spark spun a little faster the longer he gazed into Prowl's narrowed optics. "That's a bit flattering but I know I'm not your type"

"I mean it, Bumblebee" A soft but flirty smile found itself on the black and white mech's face.

"Oh"

Leaning a little closer Prowl allowed his field to surround Bee's until he was close enough to feel the yellow mech's hot vents on his face. "If you're still feeling unsure, I'm free later tonight. Maybe a little 'sparing match' might lighten your mood a little"

"Y-yeah that sounds great" Bee struggled to control his buzzing field as he felt his face grow hotter. "Would 9 be fine? I still have check on the Terrans"

"Sounds great" Having some mercy Prowl leaned away allowing Bumblebee to vent before he began to overheat. Flicking his own door wings he then turned on his heel ready to leave. "See you then, Little Bee~"

"Yeah, see you" Once prowl had left Bumblebee quickly turned to face the closest wall before pressing his helm against the cool metal, letting out a long flustered sigh. "Ooh Primus, what am I doing? This is stupid, I'm stupid!" Now really wasn't the time to be dwelling on past crushes or future possibilities, he still has worked to be done. Bee just had to make it through the rest of his shift hopefully his feelings will remain in check until then.

(*^▽^*)

Thiisssss has some kick to it and i’m so happy about it.

Prowl has been wanting to turn bee out for a while now and since Optimus is busy with Megs and Breakdown is out of the way he can have his fun.

Who knows. Maybe jazz joins in later *wink wink*

[problem-prone]

Since both of his brothers were recovering from the flu, it was only a matter of time before Darry would fall victim to the virus. 

He was woken up the next morning by a fierce pounding in his head and a throat that felt as if he had been gargling glass in his sleep. “Shit,” he whispered into the quiet of his room. He wanted to stay in bed, just curl up under the covers and wallow in his misery. As much as he dreaded it, he had to get up and go to work, considering he had already taken a week off to care for Ponyboy and Soda. 

With a groan, Darry pushes himself out of bed. The ground seems to sway under him, and it takes all of his might to stay standing. He shakes off the dizziness and begins getting dressed for work. After what seems like an eternity, he sits to put on his work boots and then heaves himself up to go make breakfast. 

Darry opens his door and sees Ponyboy and Soda at the kitchen table, with Pony working on the assignments he had missed the week. Soda looks up and sees Darry standing in the hallway. “I made breakfast,” he says, holding out a plate towards Darry. Darry could feel his stomach lurch and he swallowed down a gag. 

Darry shook his head and grabbed his keys and wallet from beside the door. “I’m not hungry Pepsi,” he says, “plus I gotta get on to work.” His throat screams in pain with his words, and the roughness of his voice has him suppressing a flinch.  

Ponyboy looked up from his homework and furrowed his brows. Soda tilts his head, a confused look in his eyes. “Darry it's Sunday, your day off,” Ponyboy replies with a questioning tone. Sighing, Darry sets his stuff down and walks over to the couch where he promptly collapses. “You look like shit, just so you know.” Darry wasn’t sure when his little brother had made his way over to the couch, or how long he had been standing over him before he spoke. He also wasn’t sure when the room had started spinning. 

Soda comes over and perches on the end of the couch where Darry’s head is. He gently places his hand on Darry’s forehead, smoothing his hair back like their Mama used to do. Darry sighs at the coolness of Soda’s palm and whines a little when he pulls his hand back. “He’s right Dar and you’ve got a fever. Looks like the mighty have fallen.” Soda’s attempt at a joke falls flat as Darry squeezes his eyes tight in response to his heartbeat thumping in his ears. 

He lets out a small whine and rolls over onto his side. Usually, he wouldn’t let anyone in on how bad he felt, especially not his brothers. But between the deep-seated aching in his bones and the fever-driven malaise he couldn’t stop himself from acting a little pathetic. At some point in his feeling sorry for himself, a hand found its way into his hair and was scratching at his scalp. Ponyboy walked to the other end of the couch, lifting Darry’s legs before gently setting them in his lap. “Sleep, you need it,” Pony says as he begins to massage Darry’s calves. 

Darry shook his head and tried to sit up, but a hand pushing on his chest stops him. “Y’all are still gettin’ over this, need to take care of y’all.” 

“We’re both fine, let us take care of you for once Dar,” Soda says as he resumes running his fingers through Darry’s hair, which makes him sigh contently. He lets himself relax into the touch, eyes fluttering closed. “Now you’re gonna get some sleep then I’ll make you some soup, how about that?”

The corners of Darry’s mouth quirk up into a small smile, the fingers playing with the strands of his hair making it hard to focus on what is being said. “Yeah sounds good,” he replied before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

[toffeecoco1]

A concept:

SQH is forced to reveal the system and/or his status as a transmigrator, due to a truth serum or whatever other convenient plot device. I HIGHLY doubt MBJ would just pass this knowledge on to LBH, especially if LBH didn’t ask—and how on earth would he think to ask??

So instead, I think at least part of it happens with LBH around. He watches SQH have a meltdown over being revealed, spewing nonsense about writing a book and then waking up inside it. He doesn’t even need to catch the entire mess, only fragments of it—enough to understand that it’s possible to jump from one world to the next, to end up in a world you already know.

And he starts wondering. Thinking about someone else he knows who has always known too much and brushed it off by claiming he read it in some book or another that Binghe can’t confirm exists. And though SQH appears to have found himself in this world as a child, who’s to say that’s the only possibility? His shizun’s personality changed suddenly and drastically, and he has no memories of his shizun having such startlingly extensive knowledge before that event.

What happens then depends on when this takes place: if it’s post-canon, he probably corners SQH to ask, and is smug about threatening him, then cradles the knowledge he receives close to his chest. Whether he brings this to his shizun is hard to tell, but he’d definitely carry himself with a light, happy air. Knowing that his shizun has always been kind to him and always loved him is simply euphoric. SQQ might notice him acting different and ask him about it, which might lead to a conversation—where SQQ is terrified at first, but relieved and simply relaxed by the end. He truly doesn’t mind being Shen Qingqiu and living what is technically a lie, but it’s… lovely to let his guard down a little around his husband, even if by this point “Shen Qingqiu” is no longer a mask he has to hide behind.

(Being post-canon is also fun because binghe can think back to the mausoleum and go “wow. maybe this should have been obvious.”)

Alternatively, I LOVE the idea that this happens earlier, during the 5 years where SQQ is dead. Rather than excitement and giddiness at solving a puzzle and figuring out more about his beloved, Binghe feels only grief and a slow horror as the pieces fall into place.

Maybe he still doesn’t know why his shizun pushed him into the abyss, but if none of the abuse he suffered was actually at his hands, if shizun truly was only ever kind to him… at the least he can begin to understand why his shizun might have sacrificed himself for him.

When he corners SQH this time, it’s with real anger, laced with fear and regret. SQH’s panicked answers give him enough information to piece together that SQQ likely didn’t have a choice in pushing him into the abyss.

So he wallows. His beloved never once tried to hurt him, was always kind to him and protected him. Likely knew he would escape the abyss alive. And he repaid that with threats and coercion, and drove his shizun to his death.

Years later, when he is in a dream and suddenly realises that his shizun is real, he doesn’t slowly smirk and begin to plot. He instead falls to his knees, gripping tightly to his shizun’s clothing and sobbing—much to SQQ’s confusion. But, still slightly numb with the whiplash of being kissed clumsily without warning and then suddenly cried on by a man he’s convinced is going to kill him, all SQQ can do is gently pat his disciple’s head.

[moonshynecybin]

the way Marc’s diplopia issues in MotoGP could translate so well into concussions episodes in a hockey AU (just like Sid…)

the head injury of it allllll.... its crazy because motogp injury is USUALLY (not always) caused by incidental contact or a personal fuck up. "racing is a contact sport rubbing is racing" okayyyyy but not like hockey lol. in motogp you USUALLY arent making contact on purpose (no one crashes for fun) and when you DO make contact it is almost ALWAYS on the limit. while often hockey injury (ESPECIALLY HEAD INJURY) is caused by a hit. could be a dirty hit could be a clean one, but usually its cuz a guy decided to hit you very hard with his body personally. theres a lot more.... agency in the injury? which feels bad bc not everyone is running around concussing people but i think its fair to say theres more interpersonal violence with INTENT to be violent even if its like. a fairly innocent shove on the forecheck. touching people on purpose. cause and effect. you are injured because of someone. thats comparatively rare in motogp

all this to say. known injury weirdo vale (and i hesitate to mention this but part of the reason he is that way is BECUASE he was involved in a tragic accident that injured another person). in a contact sport. vs marc. famously most injured man alive including in his head. in another sport that LOVES to ignore concussions. add famous rivalry. add playoff hockey hit lenience. and i can see marc (head already fragile/diplopia'd up when he was in juniors) falling weird when vale is trying to muscle him in the corners and getting his noggin absolutely scrambled. and now we have to deal with vale as CAUSER of marc injury. where he's out for months. in a dark room. doing his eye exercises and cuddling shira and MAYBE it was during the playoffs so alex had to convince marc not to try and get on the fucking ice and vale is in the same city all the time feeling like his heart is getting pulled out through his SPINE because its one guy to convince yourself a rival is evil it is ANOTHERRRR for injury weirdo to actually and for real hurt someone he loves. like if you look at them in motogp thats not vale's bag at all during the marc years. even with him being a criminal against sete in 2006 he never pulls that shit out post sepang 2011. and i think if he managed to actually INJURE marc. well i think he might feel so bad he shows the fuck up at this door

so its. hushed tense voices in the hall (alex and vale). vale climbing into bed with him in the dark. holding ice over his forehead. playing cards to keep him occupied and off his phone. reminding him to do his eye exercises. taking him to appointments contacting the diplopia specialist... and marc is brain foggy and confused and needs comfort and just WANTS IT so badly that he doesnt question it too much... lets himself take a little... and vale is there... like truly vale LOVES to take care of people, acts of service is his love language, and he is. FANTASTICALLY guilty. so hes trying to fix it anyway he can. but then the playoff series passes. and marc gets a little bit better. and there isnt a REASON for him to be there. and marc might be edging on asking him wtf hes doing there in the first place. and one day marc rolls over and vale is GONE.... because hes like okay. well marc is better now so i should go WALLOW in my GUILT. which of course to vale looks like pretending it never effected him at all while being secretly very kind about the whole thing. because he SUCKS !

[agoodroughandtumble]

Wholeheartedly Part 2 - Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Wholeheartedly - Roronoa Zoro x Reader Status: Ongoing Summary: Reader reflects on her "relationship" with Zoro - but does he reciprocate? Warning: 18+, Language, angst, implied smut

The girls’ room was far too hot – stifling even. You had been tossing and turning trying to get comfortable for what seemed like hours. Every now and then glancing enviously over at Nami who had, annoyingly, managed to fall asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow. You knew you were tired – eyes barely able to stay open for a few seconds, even aching slightly and yet your limbs refused to be comfortable, and your mind refused to relax. As always, your increasing frustrations at not being able to sleep was usually the very thing keeping you awake.

With a huff, you shoved the bed covers aside and climbed out of bed. Maybe some fresh air was needed – something to clear your head and cool you down. Careful not to wake up your companion, you tiptoed towards the door, hands feeling the walls as you went and followed the corridors out onto the deck. A slight breeze welcomed you, but even that was warm. The Merry had been docked for a day now, so you wandered over to the harbour side, curious to see how many of the inns and taverns were still lit up, letting your mind wander as you imagined all the lives and stories playing out in the town below.

Maybe someone was falling in love at that very moment. Maybe someone else was trying to mend a broken heart with song and drink. It made you envious – the Merry had felt increasingly claustrophobic since your last rendezvous with Zoro. Unsurprisingly, the places to hide onboard were few and far between, especially when as far as everyone else was concerned there was nothing going on between you and the swordsman. Even Zoro was painfully unaware of the effect he was having on you. Although you had to admit that was probably for the best. It was crystal clear that your feelings were never going to be reciprocated. The best you could hope for was that they remained unspoken until eventually, hopefully, they would fade away.

With a sigh, you leant your elbow against the railings and rested your chin in your palm. Every now and then you allowed yourself the self-indulgence to wallow in unrequited love. It was a cliché, of course it was, but it was your cliché – and if you couldn’t hold onto Zoro you were at least going to hold onto that. Your fingers traced along the grain of the wood as you allowed yourself to slip further into the fantasy, conjuring up all the ways in which you would hold onto Zoro. Submerging further without any care to resurface. Eventually, you would come up for air – but for the time being sinking and drowning were one and the same.

Your tranquillity did not last long.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Hmm?” You replied lazily, still half daydreaming and without turning around.

“Struggling myself. Thought I might take a walk, take in some of the local atmosphere – interested in keeping me company?”

You should have probably said no – headed back to your room and spent the rest of the night glaring at Nami sleeping soundly. But if you made sensible decisions you wouldn’t be in your current predicament. “Sure, I’m not paying for anything though.”

*

Zoro was in a decidedly Not Good mood. Some may even say he was pissed off. Ever since the last time you and him had been … alone, things had been awkward. What’s worse, ever since then all he wanted was to be alone with you more often. He wasn’t able to describe it – which only served to piss him off further – but something about the last time had been different. Weird. You had been short with him, fuck knows why, and you had been avoiding him.

He had woken up that morning just like any other – confused as to why you were still putting up with him – but thankful nonetheless. And then … it happened. What it was still remained a mystery; he wasn’t good at looking for anything, least of all the intricacies which dominated your “relationship” so he had done the reasonable thing and brushed it off, wholeheartedly coming to the conclusion that it was simply a setback and nothing more. You would be digging your nails into his shoulder blades before the week was out. And everything would right itself.

Only it hadn’t.

You were managing to occupy far more of his thoughts than he would care to admit. He found himself actively seeking you out instead of passively assuming the night would end up with the two of you in whichever part of the Merry seemed most convenient at the time. It was like he had been coasting, treading water and all of a sudden he’d forgotten how to swim but the only thing to keep himself from drowning was your nonchalant attitude – hardly something he could stake his heart on, let alone his life. And even with that he was still coughing up water, razors still shredded at his lungs.

By the time he was finally conscious of the fact that he wanted, no needed, to see you he was already halfway towards yours and Nami’s room. If he was Sanji, he would have a perfectly rehearsed speech. He would win you over with some pretty words and a well timed wink. But he wasn’t Sanji and his brain had only caught up with his brain and this was a fucking awful idea. He was about to turn back and forget about the whole endeavour – some sake would surely help – when he noticed your door was slightly ajar. His eyebrows furrowed – you and Nami always kept the door locked after the first time Luffy had bounded in with his latest bounty poster whilst the two of you were getting dressed. Luffy had been oblivious, of course, but from them on it was unspoken rule that an unlocked door was not a good sign. He let out a frustrated sigh at leaving his swords in his own quarters whilst nudging the door open slightly – he couldn’t hear anything but that didn’t mean nothing was amiss. Tentatively he stepped further but all he could hear was someone’s soft breathing. Confused, he stepped in a little further – allowing the door to stay open to see a little light spill into the room. Nami was there but your bed was empty.

Thankfully, there was no sign of a struggle. And surely anyone with ill intent wouldn’t just leave Nami so he made his way to the kitchen to see if you’d woken up hungry or thirsty. But that proved to be a dead end as well. This was strange. He could feel his heartbeat becoming more rapid as every corner and room proved to be more and more devoid of you. Eventually his search led him to the deck – although why you would be up there alone in the middle of the night was a mystery all in itself.

Except.

“Can’t sleep?”

He stood in the hatchway, arms crossed tightly against his chest as he watched Sanji fucking sauntering up to you. The repugnant smell of his cigarettes went straight to Zoro’s nose – he couldn’t understand how you could bear it. The cook was getting far too close for his liking, too close to you that Zoro could no longer hear what the two of you were saying. All he could see was you smiling at him, and him smiling back and then you followed him down the gangplank and Zoro wanted to be sick only he couldn’t. He was drowning.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: The reblogs and my comments await your wrath.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your turn to present comes and you stand up at the board, your budget projected as the bulb nearly blinds you. You point to the numbers and the accompanying graphs, going over each as best as you can. Your life might be an utter and complete mess but you know numbers. Your job is simple as simple gets and you can go over this ad nauseam.

Still, your focus is splintered as you find yourself stalling here and there. Each time you meet Mr Hansen's sparkling blue eyes, you nearly swallow your own tongue. You can't help but think of what you did in his office. Of what Pete would say when found out. And he will because you've never been a good liar and this isn't a secret you can keep. You just don't know how to say it.

He won't care that you were in a bind, that you were disgusted by yourself, that you didn't want to do it. You still did it. You betrayed your marriage. Even if it is a bit rocky, you made a vow. Despite the friction, you love Pete. You wouldn't have stuck around this long otherwise. It's just a rocky patch. Or it was, until this.

Your eyes linger on Hansen as he leans back in his chair and lets his gaze drift towards his lap. You gulp and look to the board, pointing out the projection as you finish up. You wallow in a momentary silence before you retreat and reclaim your seat at the conference table. You were absolutely certain to be as far from him as possible, though that was easy as all the executives cluster together.

You keep your attention at the front of the room. These things are always dull. You're not high up enough to care about more than your own piece in the puzzle. You don't make the big decisions, you just show what's there. 

You sip from your cold coffee. You feel your phone vibrating in your back pocket. Not now. You ignore it and tap your fingers on the table.

You glance around and once more find Hansen’s attention on you. He should be more concerned with the marketing presentation going on. You hide any tinge of emotion; irritation, confusion, humiliation, a peer up at the front.

The meeting ends just as you catch yourself nodding off. You shuffle out with the rest of the bodies and find your desk, nearly keeling over as you sit. You got what, an hour's sleep. You don't know if you can make it through.

Your phone goes off again. Great, what is it now? You really can't handle anything else today. Your morning has already drained you of everything you have left.

Shit, it's the school. You get up and answer your phone, marching between desks to find a quiet place. You dip down towards an empty meeting room and shut yourself in. The secretary tells you Malik got sick in gym class. Today? You sigh and promise you'll be there as soon as you can.

You put your hand to your forehead and yawn as you hang up. If you have any more caffeine, you're going to explode. You just need to get through it. You always do. Not for you, for the kids. That's what it's about.

You turn and find the door open, a figure against the frame. You could like and say you're surprised but you know Mr. Hansen isn't the type to let you sink in shame. He wants to rub it in.

"You know, I didn't think witches were real but you got magic hands, toots--"

"Sir," you fight to keep your voice even, "I just got a call from my kids' school--"

"Ew, let's not with the kids," he flicks his fingers dismissively, "I'm talking about us."

"Us?" You frown, "sir, please, I have to--"

"That husband of yours, he's lucky. Is that from practice or are you just that desperate to get your hands on some prime meat?"

You give him a look, the kind you give when you're trying not to yell. As a point, you don't raise your voice. He gives a shiver as if shaking off a chill.

"I'm teasing. I'm just... let's turn this thing around, honey. You got your budget, I got... off. And now we can get along. So, let me be a nice guy and say, go, get your kid, be a good mommy, and be back bright and early tomorrow."

You stutter. You don't quite believe him. It feels like a test. A trap. He smirks and lets his hand wander down his stomach. He grips himself through his pants.

"Unless, you want more--"

"I really have to go," you squeeze your phone, "my son--"

"Alright, alright, ugh, boring," he sneers, "I don't wanna hear about the kids."

"Um, okay," you near him, "thank you, Mr. Hansen."

"Yeah yeah," he backs out of the doorway, "don't stress it." He steps aside as you go into the hallway, "unclench a little."

As you turn, you stumble, a sudden clap against your ass throwing you off balance. You steady yourself but don't look back as he retracts his hand. Your eyes are wide, your steps stiff and stunted as you tell yourself to just keep going.

Shit, this is a problem.

Your job is stressful enough. The last thing you ever wanted was to be Hansen’s next target. It’s not something you ever worried about. You’re too old, too flabby, and too worn out. When he realises that, he’ll be back to the likes of Kendra. You don’t know who you should pity more; yourself or her.

You don't have capacity right now. One thing at a time. Get Malik home, then you can figure out how exactly your life is going to implode.

🗄️

You get Malik on the couch, bundled up watching his favourite cartoons, as you sit and stare at your phone. You know that even if you called, Pete wouldn't pick up. He's too busy for you. Still, your anxiety eats away at you and makes you impatient. You can't even enjoy the time away from the office.

You make some soup once your son's stomach settles but yours is in worse shape. You don't have an appetite, you're restless and exhausted. You're in pieces.

You know you can't go back and change things. Hell, you couldn't have done anything different. You have a mortgage, insurance, and children to look after. You can't throw it all away on one man's ego.

Still, you did something wrong. Something unforgivable. If you think Pete hates you now, he's going to despise you. And you might just lose everything anyway.

You sit and bend over, holding your head. God, you're stupid and weak and awful. You chose this, a family, a man who doesn't care, and a job that gives you nothing but stress. You could've had a better life and never inflicted your mistake on anyone else.

"Mommy," Malik taps your shoulder, startling so you sit up too fast, nearly falling out of the chair, "mommy, the stove."

You look over at the pot boils over, hissing and bubbling. Great, now you've burnt the chicken noodle. You get up and quickly flip off the burner and move the pot to the next one.

"How about some vegetable soup, huh?" You offer, "sorry, Mal."

"Are you okay, mommy?" He pouts as he stands in his dinosaur pajamas.

"Yeah, yeah, mom's just tired," you answer, "go sit down. I'll clean this up. Then it should be time to go pick up Simone."

He mumbles and leaves you. You look at the burnt soup, curdled and filmy and black around the edges. Usually, you just want Pete home but tonight, you don't know what you're going to do when he gets in. You can be sure it'll be a sleepless night.

🗄️

You spend the evening avoiding your phone. It's easy. You sit and help Simone with her homework as Malik colours at the other side of the table. After dinner you get them washed up and in their pajamas in time for bed.

You can’t help but try to suck up every second. You don’t want to lose this. It can be hard, Pete’s long hours, your sore hips, the children’s antics. It can be utterly defeating but you don’t want to lose it all. Maybe you should’ve tried sooner to fix things, maybe if you did, Pete might believe you didn’t want to do what you did.

Once the kids are asleep, you're left to yourself but not really. You clean the kitchen and get lunches packed for the next day. You switch the laundry before you head up to bed but leave the light on as you lay down. 

It’s a mirror of the night before, except you’re not the one with your tail between your legs. Pete gets home as late as ever. You want to be mad that he's only there on weekends to see the kids. Yet, you don't see much of him then either.

He comes upstairs, pushing back his hair as he enters, blanching as he sees you awake. His face falls and he runs his fingers around his stubbly lips. You don't say anything as he loosens his tie and sighs.

"Please, I don't wanna argue tonight," he says as he sheds his blazer, "it's been a long day."

"Alright," you agree, fighting not to squirm as your stomach flips. "But… I wanna talk about something."

"Look, we're almost there. The hard part's almost over," he explains as he unbuttons his shirt, "we're about to hit oil with this thing."

"I know, but… there's something we need to talk about–"

He closes his eyes and hangs his head back as he peels off his shirt. He's in good shape still. You suppose making your own hours gives you a lot of time for the gym.

"Can I take a shower first?" He huffs.

"Sure," you murmur. He's trying to wait you out, hoping you fall asleep before he's done. "Take a shower."

His brows rise and fall and he turns away as he digs in his pocket. He pulls out his phone and plugs it in, leaving it face down on the dresser. He unclasps the gold chain around his wrist and puts it in the jewelry tray with his watch. You watch his hands.

"Where's your ring?" You ask as you focus on his fingers.

"Oh, uh, fuck," he sniffs, "must've left it in my gym bag again."

"Mmm," you him and don't comment further. 

You look down at your own band, twisting it on your finger as your inside rot with guilt. You have to face this. You have to be honest. As much as it hurts you. As much as it'll hurt you.

He moves around the room. He misses the hamper again, this time his underwear fall on the floor. You want to cry as more than just the weight of your confession crushes you. It’s all of it. The years of distance between you, the memory of good days far behind, what you’ll never have again.

The bathroom door shuts and you look up again. You get up, needing to walk off the excess energy. You pace in circles and wring your hands. You want to rehearse what you should say but you got nothing. 

You hear the subtle buzz and pause. You go back to the bed and take your phone off the night table. Nothing. Not even a notification for that dumb matching game you played once while waiting at the doctor's office.

You set it back down and go back to your aimless circling. You hear it again and again. It's annoying. Tweaking your already addled nerves. 

You look around and see Pete's phone, the edges limned in the glow of the overturned screen. You cross the room and flip it over to turn the volume down. You stop as the newest message pops across the top.

'Hey babe, can't wait for Saturday. Bikini or no suit at all?' 

You read it once, twice, several times before your shock fully sets in. What? Your heart drops as you put his phone back as you found it and back away. 

You sit on the bed and stare at the bathroom door. Things can always get worse, that's your bitter mantra. You swallow as your eyes brim with tears and your throat locks up. You listen to the showerhead buzz.

You were prepared to be the bad guy. To lay yourself bare and plead mercy. You psyched yourself up to face the music but you're unprepared for this. 

You get up and turn off the lamp. You get into bed and face away from the bathroom, just like most nights. You pull the blanket to your shoulders and close your eyes. You measure your breaths to keep from crying. Once you start, you won't be able to stop.

When Pete finishes, you're still awake. Sleep? That's a joke. You just lay there and listen to him move around. When he comes to bed, he doesn't try to talk to you or wake you up.

You open your eyes and see the glow of his phone outlining your silhouette against the wall. You gulp, careful not to give yourself away. He groans and he types away on his phone. Right beside you… like you don't exist. You're just an afterthought for him. Just like your vows. Just like the kids.

As low as you thought you were that morning, you’ve sunk even further. Would he even care if he knew? You’re so unlovable, he probably wouldn’t even believe another man would let you touch them.

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Off Schedule

Chapter 8

Note: knocking the rust of my writing. send me a note if something is weird. i dont bite

Summary: Your boss is going through a divorce, but it seems you are the last to know. Emotions flare between you, your boss and his business partner. What will you do?

Warning: 18 + only, slow burn, fluff, balance of power dynamic

Brad Pitt x Reader, Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

💐

Jen looked gorgeous. Her baby bump fully present almost stealing the show while the happy couple took their vows.

Despite the joyous atmosphere you sat uncomfortably in the wedding venue, but hopefully hid it well. It was hard to forget consequences of your action, especially when facing the ex-wife, surrounded by her loves. You felt like an interloper, you shouldn’t be here. You were more surprised you hadn’t burst into flames in the pew.

Brad wasn’t here thank god. You hadn’t seen him since that night and thanks to your hiatus from work you wouldn’t be forced to.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant announced proudly as the attendees erupted in cheers and applause. You joined in the pageantry as guilt continued to eat-away at you. Only a few more hours of this before you were free to go home a wallow in the shame of your mistakes.

💐

The short walk to the reception was magical. Behind the venue guests were led down a dirt path. White flower pillars wrapped in fairy lights highlighted the trail leading to a white massive outdoor tent.

The strong scent of flowers wafted out from the opening of the tent. The inside was just a gorgeous as the outside. Flowers draped the ceiling and walls while large center pieces overflowed with blush grapes and pale flowers.

The room boomed with music while the liquor flowed freely. You would be abstaining too scared to make another drunken mistake.

There were too many tables, finding your seat was becoming a challenge. The place cards written in golden calligraphy were beautiful, but hard to read off the stark white background. You squinted, leaning toward each card trying to make out the characters.

“Do you need any help?”

You felt the gentle touch on your shoulder before his soft words hit your ears. Keanu hid his chuckle from the sight of your startled face.

“Oh hi… I didn’t know you were coming. I didn’t see you during the ceremony.”

“I just got back, I tried getting a hold of you, but never got an answer.” He explained.

You frowned in confusion. You hadn’t had any messages from him. Your phone was working you were sure. Sarah and Zoe both had texted you just yesterday.

“Something must be wrong with my phone… I never-,“ You tried to explain as you dug out your phone and quickly scan through your messages. Nothing.

Not even older messages from him. Weird.

He stands beside you watching over your shoulder as you tried to figure this out. You search his name in your contacts and its there, but when you click on it your stunned to find out that he is blocked.

“I don’t know how this happened. I swear I didn’t.” You plead your innocence with wide eyes. The way he looked at you somehow you knew he believed you to your relief.

“No worries these phones are always doing something crazy, it might have to do with a software update.” He suggested. That had to be the case. You’d seen notifications to update before, but always ignored them so that might be why.

“Weird. Of all people. I would’ve preferred if it blocked my mom instead.” You joked.

“That’s a relief I thought you might be avoiding me.”

💐

Keanu led and you followed as he helped you find your seat. He was the only face you recognized and you hoped that his placement was close to your own.

“I think this is us.” He proclaimed picking up two placards holding them side by side. You could kiss Jen for this.

“So how are things at the office?” You enquired as he pulled out your seat.

“It’s been busy, but your absence has been felt. Do you miss it?”

“I'm actually thinking about quitting.” You confessed sheepishly.

“Really?" Surprise and confusion riddled his face. You felt bad, but it was a thought that had been plaguing you for a while. Things at Terrilum were overly messy and you weren’t sure how much worse it was going to get. You needed peace and stability and you were sure you wouldn’t find it there.

“Yeah I’ve just been there for so long and I think its time.” You squirmed a little in your seat. You avoided his looks of concern and focused on the happy people dancing on the dance floor. Your mood was coming down just thinking the of bizarre soap opera you found yourself in and you wished desperately to escape that.

“Well I’m sorry to see you go. If you need a reference I would be happy to help.” Keanu offered. He still looked a bit disappointed, but he wasn’t going to press it seemed. You were thankful for that.

“Thanks, I’ll most definitely take you up on that.”

“Um-mm well while I have you here..” Keanu started but hesitated. You felt the familiar bundle of nerves tightening you belly as you wait in anticipation.

“I hope you don’t mind, but since you were unable to read my messages before, I was wondering if I could ask you in person again.”

“Ask me what?” You asked on the edge of your seat.

“If you wouldn’t mind... I'd like to take you on a date? A real one this time.”

💐

You blinked dumbly at him. For how long you weren’t sure. The question had caught you off guard.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable…Umm I’m sorry I just thought.” He hurried to apologize, but you were quick to stop him.

“Wait! Wait!” You blurted out excitedly, holding your hands up haltingly. “Sorry,” you began lowering your hands and your voice in an attempt to sound more demur. “I’m mean I would love to.”

“That’s a relief.” He said with a grin, clearly entertained by your theatrics. “I’m ashamed to admit I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a while, but never really had the courage to speak up.”

“Really?”

The news was unbelievable. It felt like you were in a dream that you didn’t want to wake up from.

The joy was short lived though. Your smile faded slowly when you spot a dark cloud in the horizon. The sight of him melts away the new found happiness and slamed you back down to the cold reality.

Brad. You thought he wasn’t coming. You hadn’t seen him during the ceremony either. Keanu followed your line of sight to find his friend and business partner.

Brad hadn’t spotted you both yet, that was good at least. Too busy congratulating the happy couple. Keanu waved over his buddy to your horror. An overwhelming urge to escape on coming doom enveloped your body. You needed to get out of here and fast.

“Um. Sorry… I just realized it’s getting late.” You lied, fumbling through your bag blindly, desperate to find your phone. You needed to order a hire car and get out of here.

“They haven’t cut the cake yet. Stay for a bit and I’ll take you home.” Keanu offered as he turned his attention back to you. Warmth bloomed on your exposed leg when he touched you there. His touch was comforting and you wanted to soak in it.

He was sweet, but you couldn’t take the chance of facing them both.

You smiled tightly disguising your discomfort the best you can. By the look on his face you could tell he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

You sneak a glance in Brad’s direction. He seemed to be getting closer. Damn it. You felt trapped and needed to escape.

“Um ok you’re right, but um I’m gonna go to the ladies I’ll be right back.” You lied pointing a thumb in the direction of your escape. He didn’t get up when you shot to your feet. Keanu just nodded in understanding and you’re grateful when he wouldn't follow suit.

You didn’t look back. There were no bathrooms in the direction you were headed, only catering. The only restrooms were back at the main venue, and to go there you would have to pass by you know who.

Clumsily you slip through the catering door. The faint scent of cigarette smoke caught your nose and you followed it. If they are smoking then there is a back door somewhere.

The staff looked at you confused, but say nothing. Ignoring the stares you ordered the fastest option for hire car despite the price.

Damn it. The next ride was twenty minutes away.

💐💐💐💐💐

[bibliophilesince2003]

Ninjago... Dead or Not Dead?

I'm here to discuss whether "new" Ninjago is better than "old" Ninjago, or vice versa. I see so many opinions float around, and some comments people make are extremely harsh or confusing. For my own claims, don't worry, I'll back them up with evidence and genuine consideration.

I would like to start by saying that I started watching Ninjago when it first came out in 2011. I was around 8 years old at the time. My younger siblings soon became invested in the show, and we watched it together. There are seven seasons total that I would consider "old" Ninjago that aired from 2011-2017. About a year later, what I would call "new" Ninjago aired with seasons 8-15. Dragons Rising is the current Ninjago show.

I have almost finished Dragons Rising. So, yes, I am aware of all the little details and therefore ready to provide my own thoughts. I am an old Ninjago fan at heart and grew up with the show, but if I'm to have an opinion about what's new I might as well know what I'm talking about.

New Ninjago fans say that old Ninjago fans are "blinded by nostalgia" and old Ninjago fans say that new Ninjago fans don't understand the point of the show.

Ok, first of all, is "old" Ninjago perfect? No, of course not. The fight scenes are extremely slow at times. The animation? Less detailed. As a kid, I didn't really care. As an adult, sure, it's painful to watch. However, animation is such a small part of any show, and there is more to life than things that are aesthetically pleasing, especially when it comes to criticism. On a deeper, plot-centered level, "old" Ninjago surpasses "new" Ninjago. You cannot watch "old" Ninjago and tell me that the plots aren't creative and exciting, with a good balance of humor, brotherhood, and pain. "New" Ninjago, for the most part, was pretty decent and added depth to the characters. I liked Lloyd's new voice actor. Some aspects of "new" Ninjago irked me, like Kai's lack of emotion when Nya quite literally became one with the ocean, Kai losing his powers yet again and wallowing in self-pity, or Cole becoming more and more of an insignificant character with few lines, save season 13.

The biggest thing, though, was lack of creativity and a shift in character development that is unneeded or backwards. Characters can develop, sure, but they shouldn't be an entirely new personality without cause. The ninja were extremely weak or extremely overpowered. In reality, they should remember most of what they've learned and continue to grow.

Dragons Rising is - pardon my aggression - a piece of crap. Now, I think it had promise in the beginning, and I was excited with the introduction of new characters.

Arin and Sora have distinct personalities and interesting backgrounds. It went downhill pretty quickly. I dislike Wyldfyre with a passion. A Kai and Skylor alliance would have been better. Not only does Wyldfyre act like she's consumed ten energy drinks, but she's wrecked Kai's personality. Their banter is humorous and realistic, but shouldn't Kai know how to handle an impulsive person? Lloyd was practically their little brother in "old" Ninjago. Kai was impulsive and confident in his own actions, perhaps even a little "mean" to Lloyd when Lloyd needed a serious wake up call, but he never purposefully put Lloyd in danger. He was willing to take the hit in a lot of situations. Now, we see him running away screaming his head off while Wyldfyre is throwing hands. Kai... you've faced worse than a giant rock monster, buddy. The humor in Dragons Rising makes me want to tear my hair out sometimes. I get it's a kid show, but they could do better. "Old" Ninjago had some pretty grim details, but there was always a ray of hope or humor that just made sense in the moment. Mainly, the ninja being true brothers and absolutely roasting each other. In comparison, the humor in Dragons Rising is forced and cliche.

"Why would you touch the scary painting, Jay?"

"I didn't know it would do that, Cole!"

Compared to...

"I guarantee the sewers won't have any security."

*cut to them being chased*

"I was wrong!"

I'm not saying that "old" Ninjago doesn't come with its own share of cliche humor, I'm just saying that it's significantly less compared to Dragons Rising. It's also sprinkled, not dumped.

So, Arin and Sora get the spotlight, and the ninja seem to weaken more and more every day.

If you're a new Ninjago fan, I can see why Dragons Rising wouldn't bother you, though I would question your sanity if you found the cliche humor even remotely funny every single time. But the ninja aren't themselves. "Old" Ninjago gave us characters with exaggerated personalities for a reason, and "new" Ninjago provided some interesting plots with improved animation. "New" Ninjago is where it should have ended, and Dragons Rising can rot for all I care. The more I see Dragons Rising ignore or discount previous lore, the less I want to give it a chance.

[magefeathers]

Sleep Token Analysis: ONE

To my continuing surprise people seem to like my Sleep Token thoughts, so I guess I should start posting my song interpretations. 

I wrote about my interpretation of Sleep itself here, and while I'd love for you to read that as well, it isn't required reading for my song interpretations. The only really important thing to know is that I don't interpret the music as being about Sleep, regardless of what you personally view Sleep as.

I have a very grounded/realistic/logical way of interpreting things, because that's just the way my brain works, but I want to make it clear that I'm not trying to analyze or decipher anything about Vessel's actual human life in the real world. I think there's a narrative being told, that is shared primarily through emotional responses to events rather than events themselves being portrayed, and the narrative composed by any interpretation of these emotional responses may or may not be an actual reflection of any real events that may have inspired them. I have no clue, and I have no desire to find out. So, for the sake of remaining within the narrative, I will refer to the person singing as the narrator, and the person being sung about as the subject. If I use the name Vessel, I'm referring to him as a third person writer – best way I can explain how I think about it is, the narrator is Lemony Snicket, while Vessel is Daniel Handler (the real author). No part of this is meant to be dissecting his actual life, only the characters in the narrative.

Disclaimer aside, onto the analysis! 

THREAD THE NEEDLE

Bury me inside this Labyrinth bed We can feel that time is Dilated

There are a number of instances across the discography where the context in which something is presented and the tone in which it's sung doesn't quite match the implication of the actual words. It's harder to pick up on than more blatant lyrical dissonance (as in the original version of Hey Ya) because a lot of the lyrics are so cryptic to begin with, so you have to really think about what he's saying to pick up on the dissonance. 

Saying you want to be buried somewhere seems like a positive thing (I want to spend eternity here), but labyrinths tend to symbolize confusion and struggling to find your way, searching for the right path. So in saying ‘bury me inside this labyrinth bed’ he's asking… to spend forever in a place that causes confusion and uncertainty? 

Likewise, to say that time is dilated in this seemingly complimentary context is an interesting choice, because when something is dilated that means it's been expanded, and normally it's a negative thing when we say that time feels like it's just stretching on and on. But if the narrator wants to spend eternity here, it must be meant to be a good thing, especially if the narrator and the subject are spending the night in fascination.

One possibility is that he was thinking about it in a less literal sense and more in the sense of your pupils dilating when you look at someone you love, but I tend to lean more toward believing this dissonance is intentional. Perhaps it's because time feels dilated in this place that he's resigned to spending eternity here: he already feels trapped, so why not simply choose to stay? Regardless of the reasons why the narrator might want this, the dissonance tells us that what the narrator is idealizing isn’t actually healthy, or as good as he thinks it is.

It might seem like a bit of a jump for the first set of lyrics, but when taken in the context of the rest of the discography, I feel like this is about the tendency to wallow in one's own misery, to make your depression and trauma a fundamental part of who you are and revel in them, rather than trying to heal. Change is hard; the confusion and uncertainty and the pain they bring are all familiar and comfortable, and that's why the narrator wants to stay with them.

We can spend the night in Fascination You can thread the needle Time and time again

I had only ever heard the phrase ‘threading the needle’ in a mostly literal context, referring to anything to the effect of navigating through a narrow opening. So I googled the phrase to make sure I understood it fully, and apparently it can also mean, “to find harmony or strike a balance between conflicting forces, interests, etc.” 

So with the phrasing of this – we can spend the night in fascination, you can thread the needle – it makes me wonder, if the subject is the one finding this harmony, what are the conflicting forces at play here? Again taking the rest of the discography into context my most realistic assumption is that the subject is bringing peace to the conflict the narrator feels within himself, between his mind and his mental illness. As I personally read a lot of signs of pre-existing familial trauma in later music, it could also be that the subject feels like a safe haven from the conflict of the narrator's home life. 

You turn the lights down Come on and find out

An invitation extended to the subject; he's already said I want to spend forever here, now he's saying I want you to join me. Come and spend the night in fascination with me. I want you in this labyrinth with me because you bring me peace. If I'm going to be lost forever, I want to be lost with you.

Now. It's perhaps worth mentioning that the narrator inviting the subject to turn the lights down and join him in a labyrinth bed to spend the night in fascination can certainly be read in a suggestive manner, and I want to clarify that although I see the innuendo there, and I do think it's an intentional innuendo, I don't actually think any of this is about sex. I think Vessel as a writer sometimes uses very sensual or suggestive phrasing to convey a level of intimacy that many people instinctively associate with sex, even though he isn't talking about sex. There's this ongoing theme across the discography of the narrator wanting to know the subject inside and out, including the parts of themself that they hide from the rest of the world, and I think there's an intimacy to that level of allowing someone into your inner world that goes deeper than just sex. I think he's just using the trappings of sexiness to set this stage of intimacy, because, y’know, sex sells and whatnot.

Something to confide in Something to erase Just look at where we're lying An invisible space

Not someone to confide in, but something, steering away from the more common usage of the word. I feel like the narrator is still trying to convince the subject to join him in this invisible space, this metaphorical labyrinth – which is probably the fields of elation from the next song. There's a lot of similarities between Thread the Needle and Fields of Elation that lead me to believe that they're sort of different versions of the same song, or different songs telling the same story, however you want to think about it. So I think these lines are telling the subject what this dreamscape has to offer: it's something they can believe in and have faith in, something that can erase the woes of the real world.

We can spend the night in Fascination You could thread the needle Time and time again

Also worth mentioning is that in the original myth of the labyrinth, the only way the hero of the story, Theseus, could find his way out of the labyrinth was by using a ball of thread given to him by the Princess Ariadne, who had fallen in love with him. So between you can thread the needle and nobody else can pull me out hopefully you can see why I think this figurative ‘labyrinth bed’ and the ‘fields of elation’ are one and the same. The fields of elation, most commonly interpreted as some sort of dreamscape and the domain of the deity Sleep (although you’ll know how I feel about that if you read my interpretation of Sleep), are the narrator’s personal labyrinth, one he wants to get lost in and is inviting the subject to wander endlessly with him, but… does the subject want to?

It's at this point that the music gets louder and arguably quite tense. I'll be the first to admit I know nothing about actual music theory, but I am generally able to recognize when the sounds being used are meant to make the listener feel anxious or tense, and that's the impression I get from the music here. This is just an assumption, of course, but given how prevalent this dichotomy is on One – between dreamy, ethereal lyrics with sparse and gentle music behind them and then wordless sections with heavy, intense, music – I feel like it's an intentional choice, perhaps to show the contrast between the peace the narrator feels with the subject and the anxiety/depression/abuse/etc that permeates the rest of his life. Or, perhaps, this tension is indicative of the confusion and uncertainty found within the labyrinthian fields of elation, and the whole reason the narrator wants the subject to join him there is to quiet or calm this storm.

If I’m following my interpretation from earlier of the narrator’s wish to stay in this dreamscape being a metaphor for choosing to wallow in one’s depression, perhaps these invitations to the subject are a request to be met where he is rather than forced outside of his comfort zone? It could also relate back to the recurring theme I mentioned earlier, of the narrator wanting to know the subject inside and out, even the parts of theirself they hide from the rest of the world. Maybe these invitations for the subject to join him in this dreamscape – arguably his inner world, whether you look at it as a literal dream world or a metaphor for his depression – are a way of offering to let them in, and share the parts of himself that he hides from the world. Regardless, it’s a request which I don’t think goes over well, judging by how the song ends.

You turn the lights down Come on and find out You turn the lights down Come on and find out

The repetition of this line, these invitations to the subject, leads me to believe the subject has not taken this invitation. The narrator wants to share his inner world, his dreams, his life, with the subject, but his repeated invitations seem to fall on deaf ears. The way the tense music cuts out very suddenly into this repeated line, and then goes straight back into the heavier music with steadily growing tension makes me believe the narrator's first invitation was likely ignored. After some time away from the subject, dealing with whatever conflict exists in his life outside the subject (the tension in the music), he eventually decides he can't take it on his own anymore and comes back to offer his invitation again, only to be either ignored or rejected once more. The way the music simply fades out at the end of the song rather than coming to a concrete end makes me lean more toward the invitation being ignored – there is no closure, no solid answer.

Nothing about this song leads me to believe that the narrator and the subject are actually in a committed relationship. I have mixed feelings about the common belief that the whole of the discography is about one singular toxic relationship, but I tend not to get into it because it doesn’t really matter much in the grand scheme of things. Whether the subject is one toxic partner (or romantic interest) that the narrator keeps going back to or there are multiple subjects signifying multiple toxic relationships over the years, the narrative remains the same: the narrator is stuck in a cycle of abuse. As mentioned before, I’m not trying to analyze Vessel’s actual life in any way, so I generally think it’s worth assuming one subject for the sake of The Narrative. However, it is difficult for me to align my interpretation of One with the rest of the discography because it reads so distinctly like a relationship that never was, to me. I feel like the relationship explored within One is either entirely self-contained within the EP, or takes place very, very early in the relationship with the subject of the album trilogy.

FIELDS OF ELATION

The daylight recedes in unison, this room Buries the hours like death, in motion Nobody else can pull me out The fields of elation, quiet and loamy

The opening of this song is very reminiscent of the opening of the previous song. The daylight receding is obviously a reference to nightfall, and burying the hours I assume is either referring to killing time, or referring to sleeping as being like a temporary death. Either way, I think it's safe to assume the first two lines are referring to passing the nighttime hours in one's room, probably sleeping/dreaming. It recalls bury me inside this labyrinth bed from the previous song, as well as the feeling of time being dilated. This is why I believe the two songs are connected, and these fields of elation are the same invisible place spoken about previously. Whereas the previous song had the narrator inviting the subject to join him in this dreamscape, however, this song says nobody else can pull me out. The subject hasn’t accepted his invitations, and the narrator has decided that the subject is worth partaking in the waking world for.

Your name is a sin I breathe, like oxygen Caught in the careless arms of lust, again Nobody else can pull me out The fields of elation, quiet and loamy

This reinforces my theory that the narrator and the subject aren't actually in a relationship, because the subject's name wouldn't be a sin if it were something he were allowed to indulge in. Whether he uses lust here in the more widely understood manner, or simply as a tool to further compare his feelings for the subject to something sinful and illicit is up to interpretation, but ultimately the message is the same: the narrator's desire for the subject is an indulgence he feels guilty about, but also feels like he needs – like oxygen – and it's a sentiment that's echoed in the refrain at the end of the song.

The heavier music kicks in here, but it doesn’t hold the same tension that ‘Thread the Needle’ did, not at this point, anyway.

And nobody else can pull me out The fields of elation, quiet and loamy And nobody else can pull me out The fields of elation, quiet and loamy

If ‘Thread the Needle’ was the narrator inviting the subject into his inner world, into his dreams, into his life, and receiving no response, then ‘Fields of Elation’ is perhaps a bit of coaxing. I read this as trying to express to the subject how much they mean to him, how important they are to him. If they won't accept the invitation into his dreams, then he insists that they're the only thing better than dreaming, the only thing worth being awake for. 

It’s after this section that the tension rises, and then the heavier music cuts out for the final refrain.

I'm losing my faith in our lives apart I'm losing my faith in our lives apart I'm losing my faith in our lives apart I'm losing my faith in our lives apart

This refrain breaks my heart, not only because of the words but because of how hopelessly it's delivered. It sounds like resignation, like he already knows he's going to need to continue on without the subject, even though he doesn't know how he'll be able to. And unlike the fade-out at the end of ‘Thread the Needle’ this song ends rather quickly after this, with only the gentle atmospheric music lingering for a few seconds longer, leaving us on that note of hopelessness.

WHEN THE BOUGH BREAKS

You could stay alive Just tell me that you notice Even in the dark The way I left you breathing

I’m going to hope that staying alive is just a metaphor for staying awake, as I hypothesized the opening of the previous song might be referencing sleeping as being a sort of temporary death. I’m assuming the narrator, by this point, has gotten a flat-out rejection of his invitations, and is now relenting that the subject can stay in the waking world. All he asks is some sort of recognition of what they shared; I’m assuming 'the way I left you breathing' is meant to say he, at some point, took the subject’s breath away?

Sometimes when we touch Everything we love resets It's only just enough Even when we run with death

It seems to me as though this part of the song is acknowledging some flaws in whatever their relationship is. Whether the touching referenced is literal or metaphorical, it seems that this connection is refreshing their love for each other, making it just enough for them to cope with their struggles. This is, honestly, the first time we’ve gotten any hint that the subject might feel the same about the narrator… which is why I’m going to give into the suggestive innuendo for just a moment and say that maybe the previous verse’s 'tell me that you notice [...] the way I left you breathing' is in fact a reference to them sleeping together and the narrator leaving the subject literally, physically out of breath. Perhaps the 'sometimes when we touch / everything we love resets' is meant to say that it’s only the physical aspect of this relationship that’s actually fueling their feelings for each other – or, at least, the subject’s feelings for the narrator. This kind of changes the context of the first part of the song and makes it seem like the narrator is asking the subject to at least admit he made them feel good, even if they don’t want to be in a relationship with him.

We could be released Flowing over sorrow days We could stay suspended Even when the bough breaks

This is what I believe is the core dilemma of this song. It reads to me like two opposing options, a decision that needs to be made: do we fall through, or do we stay suspended? I believe the ultimate meaning of ‘when the bough breaks’ is the moment in a relationship where you realize that it isn’t going to work out. You’re then faced with a decision: do you end the relationship (or give up on pursuing the other person), allowing yourselves to be released and feel the sorrow, or do you choose to stay suspended despite the broken bough, and stay in the relationship (or continue pursuing the other person) when you know they don’t feel the same about you?

If we're going to assume, as most people do, that the entire discography is all about a singular relationship… It unfortunately seems that the narrator chose the latter.

Sometimes when we touch Everything we love resets It's only just enough Even when we run with death

I'm a really big fan of when lyrics change slightly over the course of a song to portray narrative development, character growth, etc. After a second repetition of this verse we get a whole lot of repetitions of the line 'Don’t lie to me,' followed by a slightly altered version of the same verse:

Everything we touch Turns water into blood You try to look away from Even when the bough breaks

Something has changed about the act of the narrator and the subject touching. In the original verse, it seems like the relationship might already be on the rocks, but sometimes their connection is enough – even if only just – to reset things, and remind them why they're together. In the altered verse, they're spilling blood and trying to ignore it – or at least the subject is trying to ignore it: you try to look away from, the narrator says. The repetitions of the phrase Don’t lie to me leads me to believe the subject has maybe been exaggerating their feelings for the narrator in order to keep him around. Maybe their denial of the narrator’s invitations to join in his dreamscape was what made it clear to the narrator that these feelings weren’t genuine, and now he’s asking for an honest answer. Tell me that you notice [...] the way I left you breathing. Whether the physical relationship was all the subject was interested in or not, that seems to be the conclusion the narrator has drawn.

You don't really love, you just hate to be alone You hate to be alone You hate to be alone

The previous verse and this one are repeated for the rest of the song, with the repetitions of 'don’t lie to me' overlaid with them. The repetition reads as insistence to me, as if the narrator is arguing his perspective and trying to get the subject to admit to it. The heavier section of music kicks in at the start of the third repetition, but similar to the middle of ‘Fields of Elation’ it doesn’t immediately give the sense of tension that I feel in other places, it’s just gotten busier and louder. After the lyrics fade out, however, it does get noticeably more tense, and this tension persists almost for the entire final minute and half of the song, with only brief moments where it eases up. 

The song ends by cutting out very suddenly, in one of the more tense sections. I'd like to interpret this as the final argument and an end to the relationship, as it was clearly unreciprocated and unbalanced. If we are to interpret the full discography as being about a singular relationship, however, maybe this is only the first of a sequence of break-ups and make-ups. If I'm right about the repetition of the accusatory final verses being indicative of the narrator arguing his point and trying to get the subject to admit to their lack of feelings for him, it's possible that he just pushed the subject away with his strong, internalized belief that nobody could or would truly love him.

We'll never know, and that is both the beauty and the tragedy of it.

If you read this far, I thank you for hearing out my thoughts 💖 The plan was for me to tackle Two next, but after the success of this post and my later realization of the connection between the songs on TMBTE and their inverted counterparts on Sundowning, I think that's the next essay I'm going to write, because I'm very excited about all the parallels I've found. After that I'll get back to Two, and then the stand-alone singles, and then I'll have to figure out how I want to go about the albums.

Feel free to add in the replies/tags if you think I should do the albums all together in one post (like this) or if I should break them up in chunks of a few songs at a time. I'd like to keep the full albums together but I don't want to make people sit through mile-long posts, so I might opt to just not analyze every single lyric and rather focus on the lyrics I have specific thoughts on. But I also might end up having thoughts on every lyric, so, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[acediaedeus]

I like the thought of Ichigo’s uncertainty about where he and Grimmjow now stand after TYBW.

he’s just wallowing in confusion, bc “what did it all mean??”. he doesn’t understand whether they’re allies now, or was it just temporary? could they become friends? are they going to have all those fights he promised Grimmjow? and Grimmjow is anything BUT confused, at least about the relationship he has with Kurosaki.

so in true asshole cat nature he hisses and scratches, he shouts and growls, but at the same time he follows Ichigo around whenever and wherever he sees him, he inches closer when they sit in Urahara’s shop, he’s even more tactile inside a fight and right after one, sometimes even with no fight at all. but, because he’s, as was previously mentioned, an asshole cat, an especially prideful one at that, he does it all while spitting venom left and right, what seems like seconds away from scratching Kurosaki’s eyes out.

Grimmjow finds his own behaviour embarrassing, bc “oh my god, I’m so obvious I might as well roll over in his lap and show my belly”. all the while Ichigo is a big orange question mark going “why does he hate me still?? :((“

everyone is exasperated, Urahara is on the brink of caving and meddling, but Yoruichi forbids him from doing so, because it’s hilarious to her.

one time Grimmjow was so uncharacteristically (in Ichigo’s opinion) peaceful and nice, nice to HIM(!!!!), that Ichigo pulls Urahara aside to ask if the arrancar has split personalities. Urahara just kind of stands there at first, then turns around without words and goes for a bottle of his strongest sake.

[wonusite]

Absolutely no one asked but here's my headcannon for nerd!shua x cheerleader!yn's first I love you to each other:

You and Josh have had a fight, the biggest one you've had since you started officially dating, though you had been seeing and getting to know each other for a good while before then under the pretense of being a casual hook up. Maybe it started off as something small, but whatever it was that started the fight, it escalated and words were thrown, feelings were hurt and you stormed out of his appartment that you were steadily becoming more and more familiar with.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad had you run off, slamming the front door in your wake (Mingyu had always said that you had a terrible temper), but after chasing the nerd of your dreams and finally getting him where you want him, maybe you were feeling a little tired of the constant chasing. Maybe, for once, you wanted him to be the one that chased you, wanted him to make you feel special, feel wanted, feel like you were worth being more than a good fuck or a pretty face. Sure, there was no reason for you to be insecure, especially when Josh has done nothing but shown you that he's very much attracted to you, but there's still that little voice in the back of your head that says he's just like everyone else, that he doesn't see past the external beauty, that he doesn't actually care for who you are beyond the hot cheerleader with a hot body, that maybe, just maybe, if he actually gave a damn about you and your relationship that he wouldn't have given up so easily, that he'd fight to keep you around. But he didn't. So here you are. And that's where you guys are at the moment.

It's almost like a scene from a movie, it's absolutely pouring outside, the air is chilly, it's a dark winter evening. Nothing in the day has gone right and it seems like the weather is reflecting that. At first, you're bitter. You're angry that even after everything, Josh still maintains his cold and stoic persona. You thought that maybe you had started to chip away at the cold exterior he always puts up, but the second things started going south, it was like all the work you had done to get Josh to open up to you was undone in an instant. Your first instinct is to be angry and lash out. Despite having left his appartment hours ago, it's like you can't get the fight out of your system, throwing (soft!! And non breakable let's be responsible guys) things around and screaming into your empty apartment, doing anything you can get rid yourself of that burning, that itch that seems to fill your entire being.

After the anger comes the sadness, the loneliness. You begin to doubt, yet again. Was it your fault? Was there something that you did to cause it? Were you just not good enough? The self-loathing, the self-deprication, it all fills you up all at once and you cry. You begin to spiral, wondering why every one of your relationships seems to end in a similar fashion, why no one has ever cared enough to stay. Josh certainly isn't your first boyfriend, and though you'd never admit it (not in that moment at least) there's a part of you that wished he would've been the last. You wallow in self pity for a bit, finally getting all the pent up emotions from the day's events out of your body, finally waiting for the release of acceptance and you to finally start moving on.

Except you never get there. Try as you might, you can't stop the gnawing feeling at your chest, the weight your feel on your shoulders, the way your left hand twitches, longing for something that feels suspiciously like Joshua's right one. Unlike past relationships, you're not able to move on, put on a brave face, keep your head held high and move on like you never even hurt in the first place. At first, you're confused. You've never had a problem moving on quickly and efficiently before, there's no reason for there to be a problem now. You try to convince yourself that this is just the same as it's always been, and that maybe you just need a bit more time this time. But not, there's that annoying little voice in the back of your head, saying 3 little words that absolutely terrifies you, telling you that you can't shake Joshua because he means more to you than the guys in the past, that your affections for him are no longer just teetering into unknown territory, that you've already jumped into the deep end.

You know yourself better than anyone, and that's precisely why you know the budding feelings you have for your the cute nerd from your calculus class are more than just a simple crush. You know what you're feeling goes beyond that, that once you started dating and he started playing the part of the doting boyfriend, that you were a goner, completely at his mercy. You knew, and despite all of it, you were okay with it. You were okay with being vulnerable, with being weak, with having all your cards on the table because for him, you'd do just about anything.

It hits you that the morning might've been your last time to ever hug Joshua, to ever kiss him, to see that brilliant smile of his directed at you. You swallow, a lump in your throat that never seems to get any better no matter how much water or tea you've had. There's a heaviness that weighs down on you, and you know it's not just the blanket you have wrapped around you. It's the inexplicable feeling of a loss that makes the room heavy, makes your head hurt and makes you feel like you're drowning. You've lost the person that's made you the happiest you've ever been, and for what? Because of some stupid fight that you can't even remember the cause of?

With that, you stand because no, you won't let this be the end of things and no, for once, you're not going to just move on and let go. Joshua means something to you dammit, and you're going to make sure that if this is really the end, you've done everything in your power to at least try to fix things and make things better.

Marching your way to the door, you pull it open just to find the exact person you were looking to hunt down, a raised fist to knock and a shocked expression on his face. He's soaked, seeming to not care about bringing an umbrella on his walk from his appartment. Even in the dim light of your appartment hallway, you can see that his face is blotchy and red, his eyes swollen and irritated. Whatever turmoil you've put yourself through, he seems to have had a similar experience. Wordlessly, you open the door just a bit wider, stepping back to let him in. He walks in, but doesn't walk far, opting to simply turn and look at you, a desperate pleading look in his eyes.

There's silence for a moment, nothing but the weight of the tension between you. He takes a shaky breath and you can barely hear the words "I'm sorry" and "I love you" leave his lips before you're pouncing on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips together in a desperate attempt to convey all your feelings into on action. He kisses you back with the same ferocity, pulling you tight against his body as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go for just a second.

When you break for air, he rests his forehead on yours, taking your presence in. You manage to choke out an "I love you too" in the middle of your crying, clinging to him tightly, loving the familiarity and comfort that comes with his scent, his touch. He hushes you, pulling you into another kiss again. You still have a lot to talk about and work through, but you suddenly feel a million times lighter, knowing that everything is gonna be okay again.

Oops I realize I kinda just ,,, threw this at you but this idea has been kind of eating away at my brain for a while and I feel like I needed to just get it out of my brain LOOOL

[blackoutfeverdream]

The first thing you notice when you transition is just how oblivious you've been to the open naked privilege men enjoy in everything except women's affections.

This is whether you pursue it to the point of abuse or not. Society is institutionally androcratic and androcentric. It's why transitioning to womanhood always

all the constellation of homoerotic panic and basic dumbshit bigotry aside

is the object of obloquy for male society. It should be expected- if a man can demote himself to womanhood, then the whole edifice of male society is exposed as a sham so overt no one can pretend anymore.

Entitlement should not be inborn

becoming a woman roars this because, well, for one, we're accustomed to certain things. Being denied them is a cause to fight instead of being conditioned passivity. Little surprise Marsha Johnson was so aggressive. A black trans woman at the time of Stonewall- my god.

But we had to fight for the right to fight to exist so it's harder to make examples of us when it makes clear society doesn't want our compliance; it wants our annihilation.

Yeah, it's terrifying, but in stigmatizing us the Neanderthal overcompensation did something predictably dumb: It totally disinhibited us!

Trans women have been hypereroticized as a sexual fetish instead of a humanity for so long what the hell does it matter how we present ourselves?

Yeah. Just like women.

It's just another fight to reach the level of respect you enjoy.

Our rapes aren't believed

(just like women and especially minority women- trans feminism is intersectional like every other kind)

our domestic abuse is shrugged at

(dog bites man isn't what you'd call a newsmaker)

it's seen as natural that we should be devalued.

Except this isn't encoded in our gender roles. We're accustomed to opportunities and being deprived of them is unnatural and repulses us.

Girls don't usually get disinhibited except as an act of rebellion dismissed always as temporary as if the harms aren't there and near-constant. They get confused and ashamed for everything. Not all of them

obviously

but in the main, that's what cis womanhood means from what I can see: Having to apologize for every part of your life unless the apology is inconvenient; then you have to apologize for that.

And I mean this in both connotations: You literally need to defend your entitlement to be in public with paranoid vigilance and it exhausts.

And then you get tolerated.

Mainly.

But trans women don't no matter what we do. Oh, we have our tedious respectability purists.

But they're minimal.

We're flamboyant because a trans woman in a pantsuit might raise questions of if she's even trans

so unfeminine.

Hyperfeminine

(I am by nature, I love it)

we're streetwalkers

but at least it means we're cock receptacles by default so it's not that bad if you, y'know, listen, right, everyone's jerked off when they're bored with other porn, right?

That's the sum total of our dignity.

We're a qualifier that's slightly racier than the majority woman in every society.

And that's it.

Antifeminist women stupefy me. You don't have to wallow in Dialectic to see the world just sucks for women. It sucks for everyone but the woman always

alongside the child

is the natural and inevitable lowest rung.

Because women are connected with children and responsible for them

because women are children with some rights.

It doesn't have to be this way. All it will take is what everything else will take: The systematic abolition of scarcity, superstition, ignorance, and injustice.

Don't bleat some lazy, Oh, but people

people will do whatever you tell them to do. They're about to worship an orange barrage balloon because a mob of warm bodies they've never met in what are functionally different countries gamed a system to put it under a letterhead.

They accepted that This is The Way it Is.

That's a helluva lot wider a stretch of credulity than just saying: There's a better system for everyone.

And really meaning it.

That's also part of our disinhibition. I think that's especially why they're desperate to pit cis women against trans women: They don't want their wives, girlfriends, daughters, and mothers acting like us.

To a certain extent: Probably good.

But a lot of it is to know you're entitled to volitions girls get shamed out of owning.

We are sexually promiscuous

because boys are supposed to be and that's the model that's still deep in our psyches and more important that's how everything tries to condition us to see girls

accessible

basically animal. This isn't externalized misogyny; most trans women I know are in perpetual awe of the Elect. That's how we perceive ourselves because we're still learning what it is to be a woman without only the programmatic negativity.

Some of what's wrong with me I hope will fade if I ever get well but some of it is part of what has to be society's reckoning with the right balance of sexual power.

I finally love my body.

I fantasize every hour of every day about just having been born right. I want to know what it would be like to flower by nature without needing to fight for this shape and still wind up with a mountain of but am I reallys on my chest.

But I finally love it. Of course I want to use it.

To think that girls spend their youths paralyzed by self-revulsion is unbearable because that is no different than a trans woman's dysphoria and it turns most of us nuts.

It is a form of mental illness.

And it mars people.

Oh, it's marred my life in horrible negative gashed by my vulnerability to women and my vulnerability as one.

It shouldn't be.

Women are human.

Think of that tautology and then remember society doesn't.

[spurgie-cousin]

Hi spurgie. I don't know if you remember me, but I was the anon from 2 years ago who had their first kiss at 25 and subsequently started dating him after. Well, last night he broke up with me, and I just don't know what to do. I feel like it came out of nowhere, but he feels he drifted too far apart from me. This was my first relationship, and it might sound naive but I truly thought it was forever. I know I shouldn't but I feel stupid to think someone could love me for the rest of my life. I still love him so much. What's worse is he was so kind and gentle about it. I wish he wasn't such a great person. I wish I could hate him but I don't. We still wanna be friends, and we share the same friend group, but it's gonna be really hard. I don't want him out of my life but I'm really hurting right now. I know I shouldn't hold onto hope that we might get back together in the future, but right now I can't see myself with anyone else (again, naive, I know). Sorry for the ramble, I just don't know who to turn to, and you've always been so kind.

Aw well first, I'm so sorry ❤️ breakups are always hard but the first one always hurts especially bad. I can't emphasize enough how normal those feelings you've described are though, they're not naive at all. Thinking about past breakups I've been through or sat with others through, it's big grief for a while, combined with that hopeless "I don't ever want to be with anyone else/no one else will ever be as good as them" feeling, combined with fighting the adjustment to someone's role in your life changing, and it can be a rough ride ngl. I know that sounds daunting, but it did help me a little in the moment to know many, many other people have felt exactly how I felt at the time bc when you're in the thick of it, it can feel very lonely and isolating, so I mention it just in case it's also helpful for you to know that.

My best advice for the first couple of days is just to ride it out and feel whatever it is your feeling at the moment, because it is kind of a grieving process and like grieving you need to get the big feelings out to be able to process it. Keeping your mind busy is also really helpful, it's ok to wallow for a while but if you get the chance to do something pleasant, or even just sit with someone instead of being alone, I found that super helpful. My last big breakup I spent a full 2 weeks at my parents house and in my free time I just sat with them (and cried on them lol a LOT) watched movies, played board games, etc. Even just having a conversation on the phone when the feelings start bubbling up again can be very cathartic.

Right now it might feel like you will never feel better, or never find anyone again (or want to), but that's just part of the grief and as impossible as it might sound, that starts to fade faster than you think it will. I know you mentioned you want to stay friends and I don't think that's impossible but it's probably a good idea to avoid seeing them just for the time being, because that can be like picking at a scab on a healing wound y'know? It can be confusing and stressful and hinder the healing process, at least in my experience. Same for communicating.

But yea I promise it gets better ❤️ this relationship not working out does not mean you are impossible to love forever at all, it just means that this wasn't the right person to do it, most of us just need to do some trial and error before we find that person. And tbh I think people who have been through trial and error can ultimately end up in healthier relationships, because experience makes you learn more about yourself/what you are looking for in a person. Be kind to yourself for now ❤️ this too shall pass, it will be ok.