#my shift is the only one forced to work longer hours if things aren't done

[baked-hylian]

Y'know, it's a shame when a workplace thinks they can own their employees

[the-one-true-nobody]

What Are Workers Worth?

One of the most frustrating things about all the arguing and pontificating about employee pay in this or that job is the way that, particularly on the more right-wing side that favors lower pay, no one ever acknowledges that you are NOT! just paying for the work itself when you hire someone and they clock in to do that job.

You are also paying for the time that worker spent doing the work.

Think about what that means. And I mean, like... think about what it really means. Work-hours aren't just "company hours," after all. They're also hours of life that your employees will never get back.

Time. A small slice of their finite time on this Earth. Time they could be using to relax and enjoy themselves, yes, but also time they could be using to learn new skills, do chores or maintenance tasks at home, cook healthy food instead of processed garbage, learn to cook healthy food so they don't need to rely on processed garbage, get their shopping for the week done, bond with their family or significant other, deal with their latest personal crises, work toward whatever their actual life passion is, get out there and put their energy into supporting important social causes through hands-on activism or volunteer work... any number of things, really. Things they can no longer use that time for, because they sold that time to their employer.

But, no. Wages are only calculated by capitalists based on the value employers acquire from the worker; never the value that the worker surrenders to the employer. It's always been that way, of course, it's not a late-stage capitalism thing. But it's certainly a glaring issue, this lopsided way that we think about the "fair" exchange of labor for money.

It's gotten to this point because in the industrial world, one of the key methods of maximizing profit has always been to cut costs, and maneuvering for a lower wage has always been one of the staple ways to do that. Because that is what wages are, from the businessman's standpoint: a "cost" to be minimized, voluntarily increased only when there is some benefit to be gained or when "competitive wages" force the issue.

The larger the company becomes, the less directly the decision-makers have to acknowledge that the employees are also people paying a "cost" in their own lives to be there doing the work.

It's funny, because in smaller more tight-knit businesses, the people running the show often know this very well. They might not be able to do a whole lot about it because of their tighter budgetary concerns, though. One of the great ironies of capitalism, that: the big corporations are too detached from the little guy to factor the little guy's "cost" into their own cost-benefit analysis. The small businesses who see that cost and the person who pays it up close and personal? Those are often too small to factor it into pay, even if the people running them would really like to.

The funky thing is, I really do believe that if society phased out certain staples of late-stage capitalism, namely the massive heaps and heaps of spending dedicated toward stupid-ridiculous "growth" to keep the investment machine well-greased and spinning; and legal spending dedicated toward keeping the status quo as it is, channeling that money into heartier pay all-around would feed the economy in such a way that even smaller businesses would be able to pay their employees more. Most of the ills of our current version of capitalism are, in my belief, tied directly to and exacerbated by that investment culture, the stock-trading focus that pressures companies to constantly push to be bigger, better, more profitable, and to never stop.

Many conservatives might be comfortable with the notion that hard work is king and that people who want to make more money just need to work harder... but you know what? In my view, it wouldn't take much at all for society to shift around its priorities so that hard work is still king, but with a crown made of something more impressive than tin-foil and bubble-gum wrappers.

That sounds nice, no?

[batgurl1989]

Sun-Kissed Garden

Summary: you have writer's block and Henry helps you with it

Word Count: 1393

Warnings: none. Just fluffy goodness

A/N: sorry I was gone for so long! But I am back now and writing Henry shorts. Taglist is open

Taglist: @rmtndew @henrynerdfan @cynic-spirit @princesssterek @daddys-littlewhitegirl @diegos-butt @lharrietg @kebabgirl67

The sun was shining, but not in that hot way that was normal for Summer. Though there was a touch of humidity in the air, it was uncharacteristically bearable for early August. I watched the bumble bees lazily float from one flower to the next, collecting and spreading pollen. The quilt I sat on was well-loved. My grandmother had made it for me when I graduated high school, and it had gone everywhere with me ever since. I closed my eyes as I listened to the birds singing, letting secrets I knew I would never understand wash over me. 

My laptop lay discarded beside me, the screen having fallen asleep a while ago. I knew I should be writing, but couldn't bring myself to imagine a cold island in the North Atlantic while sitting in my sun warmed garden. I made it official that I was finally giving up on the idea of writing when I closed the lid. It was a freeing feeling, and I turned back to watching the bees. 

I internally startled when I felt someone sit down behind me. I watched as powerful legs appeared on either side of me, recognizing those calves and knees, allowing myself to relax. Large hands slid around my stomach. I used to be uncomfortable when he touched me there, the extra softness on my stomach seemed to refuse to harden into muscle, but the more he did, the more comfortable I had become. He knew I was self-conscious about it, so I think that's why he did it. 

"Did you get any writing done?" His accented voice was low, and I reveled in it as it poured over me. My body always seemed to light up when he spoke, especially when he spoke to just me. His breath fanned my ear as he body closed the last couple of inches separating us. I felt his lips ghost over the spot below my ear, and goosebumps raced across my skin and down my neck and arm. 

"Truth or sugar coated?" I asked, tilting to one side to get a look at Henry over my shoulder. His hair was a little longer since he was growing it out for a role, a curl coming down on his forehead. I adored his curls, and loved when he took roles that required him to grow his hair out. 

"Always truth." Henry's voice was laced with a light chuckle even though I knew he was serious about wanting the truth. I could understand his need for honesty in his home-life when his work-life could be anything but. 

"I didn't. I know I promised a chapter a day this week, and I was bragging that I had all these ideas." I snuggled into Henry's hold, his warmth enveloping me in an extra hug. I knew he wouldn't judge me, but I still felt guilty for not getting anything written. "But when I got out here… I just didn't feel it anymore."

"Sweetheart." Henry sighed, his arms flexing to hold me tighter. I took what strength I could from his offer, knowing I would need it. His voice spoke of a lecture coming on, and I braced myself for it. He sighed again, the gust of breath tickling my skin a second before he pressed his lips to my neck again. "I know you want to be published by the end of August, but I fear you are going to burn yourself out." 

"But if I don't set a deadline for myself, I don't think I will ever finish." My voice was small, and I hated it. I distracted myself by watching a hummingbird moth flit from flower to flower. They were rare to see in my garden, but lately, this little guy had made himself busy with my butterfly bushes. "Plus I may be stuck."

Henry was quiet behind me, and I knew he was mulling over an idea in his head. I stroked my fingers up and down his forearms, marvelling at how tanned he was compared to me. He rested his forehead against the back of my head, nuzzling his nose against the nape of my neck. I had recently cut my hair into a short pixie cut, and Henry was enjoying the extra skin it had exposed. I was too.

"The way I see it… you have two options." Henry shifted so that he could rest his chin on my shoulder. I leaned my head against his waiting and eager to hear what he thought my options were. "You can force yourself to write, to try and push through your writer's block. You might not like the results, but you can always change what you wrote later."

"What's the other option?" I made myself with his arms again, running my fingers over his contouring muscles. I wasn't sure I liked my first option, but I also wasn't sure I wanted to hear what else he had to say. 

"You could give yourself some time off." Henry's chuckle washed over me like a balm. I knew he wasn't laughing meanly at me. But I also knew he could read me as well as a book and knew I was apprehensive about hearing what he was going to say. His voice dropped lower after he pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "If I know you, you will have an idea the second you relax and stop trying to force it."

"You are probably right." I sighed. As much as I hated when ideas came to me in the shower or when I was driving, those were the times I was likely to be focussing on my writing. 

"So what do you say to me throwing us some food together and we enjoy our little slice of heaven?" Henry made to get up, but I clamped my hands down on his arms, not letting him. I wasn't ready to give up on the slice I had right now. 

"If you aren't starving, I would like to just stay like this for a while longer." I admitted. He didn't hesitate to get comfortable again, pulling me into his body again. 

"Of course, sweetheart." I could hear the smile in Henry's voice, and my guilt for keeping him out here with me evaporated. 

I tilted my head, trying to get a look at him. I poured internally when I couldn't, so I moved until I was straddling his lap and facing him. I sighed contentedly as his hands splayed across my lower back, holding me close again. I played with the curl on his forehead while smiling down at him. I loved carefree Henry, when he was done filming for the day and could simply let go of the character he was protesting even if it only lasted a few hours. We both knew these moments were precious, and we liked to savour them. 

His eyes flicked to my lips a moment before he leaned in to gently place a kiss on them. I rested my hands lightly on his shoulders as he sighed and slowly deepened the kiss. It was relaxed and exactly what I needed. Nothing urgent to match the chaos in my mind. His kisses were what grounded me, brought me back to myself. His touch sent electricity through me that calmed the currents my anxiety and stress caused. 

I was just delving my fingers into his luscious curls when an idea hit me. I sat up with an apologetic smile on my face as I reached for my laptop. I vaguely heard Henry laugh as I scrambled from his lap, but I didn't pay attention to it. I wanted to get the idea written before I lost it again.

"I will go make us food." Henry kissed the top of my head before he got up. I flashed him another smile, but didn't look away from my screen as I furiously typed. 

"I love you." I called out belatedly, not even sure if he was still in the garden. It didn't surprise me that the thing that relaxed me the most was time with Henry. And I felt a little bad that that was when my ideas decided to spring up again, but I knew Henry understood. I couldn't be sure that that hadn't been his plan all along. Just yet another reason I loved that man. 

[midnxghtsunwrites]

GROUNDED

PAIRING —

william miller x black reader

SUMMARY —

You and Will have been through too much for you to abandon him at his darkest hour.

WARNINGS —

angst, fluff

"Baby, I'm sorry." Your voice was quiet as you rubbed the back of William's hand. His skin is rough and scarred against the pad of your thumb — a symbol of the hardships he's endured both during his service and after.

You'd stuck by his side all those years ago when he was in the brigade commandeered by Tom "Redfly" Davis. They were close — damn, you were all close. You were practically Tess's aunt, showing up at every birthday party and barbecue before Tom's divorce made way.

The years you've been with Will gave you clarity — into his struggle with PTSD and the emotional impact serving as a Special Force Operative had on him. He even taught you a thing or two, defense-wise, before he was caught in a situation in your local Publix — his arm wrapped around another man's throat because he hadn't moved his cart. That lead you to jump on his back and wrangle him back to reality.

He's a soldier in every sense of the word.

He'd gotten better after that incident — attending therapy sessions and doing more public speaking at military bases. It was better to keep his mind off of the terror and trauma from his years of fighting in a war.

He was doing better. And then Santiago just had to come along and convince him to join him for one last ride. Of course, you couldn't do much but support him — that's all he ever asked for. Your love and support. And you were hesitant to give it to him.

But, you did.

And he left for two weeks and returned with a bullet wound — another scar added to his shelf of souvenirs — and a dead captain.

The first night he came back was spent on the beachfront of your home, unable to hide the tears any longer. That night, he slept with his head over your heart, almost as if to make sure it was still beating.

You gave him his space for three days — to get his bearings and a handle on life.

You weren't surprised when he gathered you up one day and drove you to your spot. It was where you had your first date however many years ago — he'd paid for the meal and was a proper gentleman. Of course, you just had to give him your number and hope for the best. Immediately, you knew he was drawn back.

He'd just finished his first tour and the trauma was as strong as it was present — you didn't expect to get a call back after he dropped you home. You were at work when he did, though.

From then on, you and Will had been connected in a way no one really understood. But, it wasn't for them to understand. It's like a well-kept secret between two lovers.

Will's eyes are trained on your dainty fingers as you trace jagged waves along his tainted skin. Your touch could calm a storm, he always tells you. His back presses against the wall of the restaurant, a tattooed arm resting atop the back of his seat, and his other arm stretched across the cold metal table towards you.

Your fingers run up the inside of his wrist and trails the ink in his skin. It's his Force tattoo, faded against his fair skin from years of wearing it as a badge of honor. This isn't his only tattoo.

Just on his other arm is a tribute to a fallen soldier from his first tour. They were the closest friends each other had before Benny decided to join the army as well. It was by a miracle that he was put into the same regiment as his brother.

It didn't seem like much of a miracle when William's friend was blown to pieces on the field.

William lazily tips the neck of his beer bottle to his mouth as he shifts his gaze to the crease between your eyebrows — one that only appears when you're concentrated.

You're so taken with his marred skin littered with healed wounds that you jump slightly when he lifts his hand to take a hold of your own, removing your fingers from his forearm.

He raises your connected fingers and presses it to his lips. Your lips form a pout when you see the tears gathering in his eyes. As he draws your hand away, his gaze transfers to the bare ring finger on your left hand.

"I love you." He proclaims, as he rubs your ring metacarpal, "And I want to thank you for being patient with me. I know..." He sighs as he tries to find the right words to say. Finally, "I know it hasn't been easy being with someone so broken."

You want to stop him. You want to tell him that relationships aren't always easy. You want to tell him that he's not broken, just in pain. You want to tell him that you love him too. So much that it hurts.

But you don't. You wait for him to express his feelings. As long as you have to.

"You've been there for me, Y/N — even when no one else has. You've been helping me for so long that I feel..." He can't continue, instead choosing to look down at your connected hands.

Your finger rubs against his as you realize this, "It's okay, Will. You know you can talk to me."

Your words give him that gentle push — "I feel like I'm keeping you from your life, Y/N. You've had to deal with my trauma and I've been ignoring you and your feelings. I don't want to do that to you, baby. Not anymore. I wanna take care of you instead of it being the other way around."

Y/C/E meet blue as you lean back in interest. Your boyfriend couldn't be more wrong about how he thinks you feel. He's held you back from nothing — when you asked him to move to a new neighborhood, he packed up your bags and boxes and loaded the moving truck; when you asked him to stick by you when you went back to school, he helped you study and ace all off your exams to receive your degree; when you asked him to be there for you, he was. And you know he always will be.

With this in mind, you slide out of your side of the booth, your hand still intertwined with his. He watches you, carefully as you step off the platform on your side before stepping up on his. His legs are stretched along the seat, prompting you to plop yourself right down on his lap. His beautiful blue eyes stare up at you.

Instinctively, he plants his beer on the table and snakes his arms around your waist, keeping you in place. You can feel the bulge of his crotch on the right side of your thigh but restrain yourself — now isn't the time.

"You see that?" Your right hand presses against his chest while your left hand finds its place on his strong arm, right above his military tattoo. You refer to his instinct to hold you. "That is you taking care of me. That is you loving me more than I deserve. Baby," You search his eyes, his pupils dilating as he's overtaken with love, "You're my life. Don't think you've been ignoring me, Will. We just had to reduce that pain you've been living with. Because I'm not happy if you're not happy."

Reaching an arm around, you take his hand into yours and pulls it from your waist. His hand falls limp as he watches you draw him towards you. You rest the palm of his hand on your chest, right above your beating heart.

At the feeling of the organ beating against your chest, Will is brought back to earth. You keep him grounded and that's all he could ever ask of you.

"This is yours, Will. You own it. We've been through too much for you not to."

As you watch the thoughts swirl behind his expressive eyes, you're confused when he pulls his hand away from you. He reaches into his jeans pocket and emerges with a clasped fist. Hovering over the table palm down, he opens his hand and brings your attention to the rose gold ring — a significant contrast from the wooden surface it rests on.

Your breath catches in your throat and your heart is pounding against your ribcage.

He looks at it for a moment before tilting his head towards you, "Marry me."

"Will..."

"It’s been a long time coming, Y/N. We've been together for eight years — which I'm sure is seven years longer than what you wanted.”

He loves you, ardently, and now he finds the strength he was searching desperately for just the other day. "I love you, Y/N Y/L/N. With every fragmented piece of me that you've managed to put back together. And I'm forever grateful that you came into my life when I least expected you, but most needed you."

Now it's your turn for your heart to melt — you're growing weak at his words, eyes filling slowly with tears.

His eyes remain on you as you crane your neck to ogle the engagement band on the table. The center is oval shaped and sparkling under the dim lighting of the restaurant. It's beautiful, perfect even — more than you could've asked for.

He is more than you could've asked for.

"I'm done with this shit, babe." Will says as he sees an indecipherable look in your eye. Overthinking leads him to believe that you have doubts about his minimalistic proposal, "I'm completely retired. It's just us — no Pope, no Fish, no Benny, no —" He stops himself before he can say the name.

It's too soon.

The silence between you two is deafening as you're frozen in your spot.

All you can seem to release is his name — it's the only word on your tongue. The only sound you could muster.

He brushes a kinky curl from your forehead and stares up at you, awaiting an answer. Everything in you tells you to speak. To do something — anything.

It's only when Will's grip loosens around your waist that you're snapped back into reality. You'd only dreamed for this moment and now that it's here, your brain seemed to be malfunctioning. Instead of opening your mouth, you reach forward and with your index finger and thumb, you lift the beautiful ring from the table.

"Yes." The word is so quiet that you didn't even realize you said it. Speak up. "Yes, I'll marry you, Will. Christ, you didn't even have to ask."

This has to be the first time he's smiled since he came home. It's bright and amazing and nostalgic. White teeth wink at you as he wastes no time taking the ring from your fingers and sliding it on your digit, his eyes seeming to reflect the sparkle of the engagement band.

The kiss you two share is nothing grandiose. Your kisses rarely are — but they still hold a level of sensuality and passion that many can just wish for. Will runs his tongue along your bottom lip before capturing it in his warm beer-flavored mouth. You don't mind — he has good taste in alcohol.

For a moment, you two forget that you're in a public space. One where patrons are making their exit, but public nonetheless. You pull away when you feel the tears gather in your eyes. You love this man with your heart, mind, and soul — every part of you is overwhelmed with a wave of fervent endearment.

"Damn, I love you." Will exhales as he draws you into a homely embrace.

general taglist : @gwenspacy @dollyhoess @complacentviawattpad @rosenoirwrites @random-ficreader23 @kyla-queen

let me know if you'd like to join my general taglist! feel free to like, reblog, and comment! also, my asks are open — and im taking requests!

[ethanharli]

Parings: Tanjiro Kamado x Top Male Reader

Warnings: Cursing

DNI; if you use she/her pronouns.

[A/n]- I took this from my Seme Male Reader book on Wattpad so um- yeah! Hope y'all like it.

____________

"For fucks sake Tanjiro!" I grumbled, pulling the stubborn male down into my lap, not caring for the yelp that ripped through his throat as I did so. "Watch your language [Y/n]!" Tanjiros mother scolded, pointing a spatula at me with a scary gaze that I swear only mothers can manage. "Yes ma'am! I'm sorry" I smiled a bit before turning my gaze back to the tired red head resting against my chest, practically dozing off in my lap. I sighed through my nose, pushing the male up in order to brush my fingers through his long hair, earning a sigh of content from him, "You need to stop over working yourself Tanjiro, its not good for your health" I whispered just loud enough for him to hear while I fixed up his hair, pulling it into a small ponytail.

"And don't tell me none of that 'I'm the oldest' crap it doesn't matter, you shouldn't just put all these responsibilities on yourself like this" My eyes narrowed a bit, feeling a dull ache pull at my heart but quickly pushed it away, finishing up the ponytail in a quick motion. I've been around for a long time, just being a year or so older then the red head that I've known since he was born, after their fathers death Tanjiro made it his job to do whatever he could to help out, even if that meant he'd stumble through my doors at ungodly hours of the night because for once he knew he couldn't do something on his own. My attention was brought back when I heard soft snores and more weight applied on my body, realizing he had fell asleep against me as I was thinking.

"I'm glad he has you around" My gaze shifted towards Tanjiro's mother, who watched us with a loving gaze in her eye's, "He's such a stubborn boy, but he listens to you more than anyone" Her words caused me to pout when a blush crept up my cheeks, grumbling a bit under my breath I wrapped my arm securely around Tanjiro's waist while slipping my other one under his legs, lifting him and myself off the ground with ease. "He talks about you a lot y'know? He admires you, looks up to you, so truly [Y/n] thank you" My grip tighten a bit, not realizing until Tanjiro shifted in my arms, but I couldn't help the harsh pain that spread through my chest, gripping at my core with guilt weighing down on me.

You shouldn't be.

I bit back the words, and showed a fake smile before going to set Tanjiro on his bed. Gently brushing a few stands of hair out of his face before hesitantly leaning down, pressing a soft kiss to the scar on his forehead, "I'm sorry, but this needs to be done.." Was all I could utter out before leaving the house, feeling the first flakes of snow land on my [S/t] skin, looking back at the house I smiled softly, taking in all the memories I've had here, before finally walking into the woods. Letting a green glow coat my figure as I dragged my claws against a frail tree trunk, disappearing into the snow.

------

Blood seeped into the snow as a foot pressed firmly into my chest, slowly breaking the bone beneath it. "You really thought you could protect them? You're weak, and never stood a chance so just lay here and die" The breath was knocked out of me when I was kicked into a tree, forcing a searing pain to spread throughout my back as my canines pierced my tongue in order to hold back my scream, not wanting to give the male any satisfaction. "You're no guardian, so give up the act already" The words weighed down on me along with the previous scenes that passed through my mind, the screams from the kids I've grown to adore, the silent pleas of a mother begging for her childrens lives to be spared, he was right, I am no guardian, not anymore.

I don't remember how long I laid in the snow before I finally crawled my way over to Nezuko, after noticing she still had a faint pulse. My wounds took much longer to heal since I haven't eaten in years, and I've been fighting off sleep for as long as I could remember, my body felt as if it was giving out but I simply wouldn't allow it, not after failing to save the only people who took care of me, who gave me a home. Pulling Nezuko into my arms I felt tears slowly slide down my bloodied and bruised cheeks, "I'm so sorry Nezuko" I coughed out, not paying attention to the sound of footsteps approaching, nor the sound of something hitting the ground. "[Y/n]? Nezuko?" The broken whisper caused my eyes to widen in panic, looking over to see Tanjiro standing before me with broken, disbelieving eye's.

He quickly ran over to us, dropping to his knees frantically. "Wh-what- are you-" He fumbled, not forming any real words until I brushed my fingers against his cheek in a soft, soothing motion that always seemed to calm him down. Tears slowly spilled from those beautiful dark red eyes, "I'm sorry Tanjiro.." I held but an ironic laugh, knowing that the only thing I can and have done is apologize, but I slowly guided his face towards mine, resting his forehead against mine that formed a familiar green glow, "Please forget" I laughed out a saddened cry, shifting around so that I could settle Nezuko in his arms, "Please forget I was here."

------

"[Y/n]..?" A groan ripped past my aching throat, the feeling of webs tightening around my body restricting me from any movement becoming known once again as I attempted to open my eyes, feeling to weak to do so as I listened to the shed doors slide open, expecting Rui to enter and use me once again. "Get on with it Rui.. There's nothing you can do, That you haven't already done.." My voice came barely above a whisper flexing my hands a bit, causing my claws to sharpen by the slightest as a familiar warm feeling spread across my cheek, finally forcing my eyes to open, only to be meet with a beautiful dark red. "Oh, hi.." Was the only thing I could mutter out when Tanjiro looked at me through that familiar concerned glare of his, it was only a split second until the webbing broke, and the sudden weight of gravity pulled me down, causing me to land against Tanjiro's toned chest.

Sobs echoed through the rotted shed, feeling the warmth of Tanjiros body against mine sending me into a peaceful state as he cried into my shoulder, gripping tightly onto my bare bleeding torso. "I-I missed you so much!" The sudden cry made my ears ring, hissing a bit at the action, earning a string of apologizes from the red head when he placed both hands against my cheeks, resting his forehead against my own, just like I had done last time we saw each other. We sat there for a moment, breaths mingling along with the soft noise of sniffles coming from Tanjiro, tears still slowly falling from his eyes. Gently I took his wrists in my hands, watching as his eyes fluttered open, catching my gaze with his own.

"I missed you too.." My words fell on deaf ears when I leaned in, capturing his lips with my own in a slow, desperate motion. Feeling my heart slam against my ribcage when he kissed back, tilting his head to deepen the kiss while my hand moved to his cheek, being careful so I wouldn't accidentally cut him with my claws. Pulling away in order to fall against his chest, laying my head on his shoulder, slowly falling back into the comforting darkness.

------

A gasp ripped past my throat as I sprung forward, reaching out for the figure that still lingered in my distant memory, "Tanjiro.." His name rolled of my tongue with such longing that my chest ached at the thought of not being near him. Only for my eyes to widen when a calloused hand took mine in there's, seeing the male I had just called out for standing besides me with a worried yet relieved gaze. Turning towards him I watched as he sat down on the chair besides the bed I was in, keeping my hand in his as he did so, "I thought I'd never see you again" He whimpered out, tears slowly gathering in his eyes while his grip on my hand tightened. "And when I opened that shed I thought.. I thought you were-" With saddened eyes I quickly pulled the male into my lap, like I used to do all those years ago.

My arms tightened around his waist, desperate to finally have him back in my arms again, "Im still here though aren't I? I promise I won't leave your side again, not until you want me too" I uttered out, slowly remembering that he must know what I am by now, but here he is, not struggling nor screaming while in my grasp. "Then stay by my side forever! I can't.. I can't bare to see you leave again" The words weighed down on me, causing my shoulders to sag as I let out pathetic sigh until Tanjiro turned my gaze back towards him. His arms wrapped around my neck while his fingers laced through my hair, dark red eyes staring into my [E/c] ones with a deep wanting lingering within them.

His breath hitched when my eyes fluttered closed, taking his lips with mine in attempt to feel that warm loving feeling again, that only he could give me. He moved his lips with mine in a slow motion as his fingers tightened their grip on my hair, while I pressed him closer against me craving for more of the warmth he provided, along with the taste of his lips. Tanjiro gave me a look of confusion when I parted or lips, scrunching my nose up in slight disgust, "You taste like medicine" Was all I could speak before he erupted into a fit of laughter that sounded like music to my ears.

My eyes softened as I watched the male seeing his usual wide smile when I rested my hand on his cheek, gently running my thumb over the dark bag under his eye, "I love you Tanjiro, I always have.." I admitted, with a small grin.

"I love you too [Y/n].."

[retphienix]

It's been 6 years :)

On March 30th, 2015 I decided I wanted a gaming side blog. (so we're early, but shush, it's the month for me)

I didn't know what I'd use it for exactly, but I had ideas- something I always have even if most of them only get as far as daydreamin' or writing out before closing them :P

For proof on the lack of direction the blog initially had- the March 30th date is the anniversary of my first post, an in-depth and lengthy review of Dragon Warrior Monsters for the GBC.

If you know the blog then you know "Extremely long and in-depth reviews" aren't the norm around here. As a matter of fact, that first post is the ONLY one I've done!

The closest I've come to ever repeating that would be the (word of the day) Directionless video I put out on Hades to get a grip on the concept of making videos, but that wasn't nearly as much of a 'review' as that first post is.

Tangent, definitely planning on trying my hand at videos some more for the foreseeable future. Probably not gonna use the tagline Full Impressions that I tossed as a whim for the Hades video but yeah- I'm excited to try my hand at a few videos :) tangent over.

It didn't take me long to come up with what I'd like to do for the blog though :)

A few months later I liveblogged a challenge run of FFT where I used only Ramza- a solo run. - Which maybe only happened because I tried a nuzlocke run a year prior on my main account-

(Nuzlocke | FFT challenge run)

Thanks to that haphazard liveblog experiment I started to realize a couple things which became the primary motivators behind this blog.

1) I LOVE sharing experiences. No brainer, I'm sure, but being able to share my experiences, and compare them with others' experiences, and just that mutual sharing is uplifting and feels good to do.

2) Liveblogging is an EXCEPTIONAL motivator to buckle down and play all those games I said I'd play (cue everyone laughing because I'm still way behind and have an immeasurable backlog).

But I mean that, on both respects. I have plenty of motivators toward the blog today, but if I were to be concise it's pretty much "It's easier to beat games if I liveblog them- otherwise I get distracted and play other games" and "I love sharing experiences and thoughts with people about my favorite thing- games."

Since 2015 I've tackled around 70 games as full playthroughs, and an untold ton as one offs or just to ramble about for a bit.

I've had a lot of highlights over the years, and I don't talk much about it as an overall experience so I thought for the anniversary I'd try to do just that. Not everything- I can't say I have photographic memory that would bring all of it up without prompting after all :P But whatever comes to mind as I browse some of my old stuff- as well as some thoughts on what I'd like to see in the future.

It's gonna be a bit self-centric I assume as I type this preamble to it, so let me say outright that this blog wouldn't be half of what it is without all the people who've given it the time of day over the years.

From recommending games they love or appreciate, to comparing thoughts, to offering kind words for analysis I've done over the years, to pointing out when I'm dumb and misread a situation :P- to, yes, even the people who decided "Fuck this guy's ramble" and deleted my captions before reblogging my gifs way back during Hamtaro (Of COURSE I remember that! It's amusing lol).

This is better because of others, because of the interactions and the people I've gotten the chance to chat with or befriend. It's just a liveblog more or less, my own little bit of fun I toss out for myself if for anyone- so seeing others enjoy this or that from the work I put into sharing my experiences or thoughts is always a joy in itself :)

Anyway, onto selfishly rambling about some tidbits of the past :)

Also sorry but no, opted to not shove a ton of photos in, it does have a handful of links to old posts though :P

This'll be disorganized as heck as I'll add to it over time before I feel it's worth posting (or the tumblr post editor becomes a hassle and more or less forces me to).

First~

FFT Solo Ramza Challenge: Considering it was roughly the first thing this blog has done, it's also something that's stuck in my head a lot more clearly than most of the other stuff I've done to be honest lol.

In truth, this is partially because FFT is my favorite game, bar none. But it's also because the whole experience was pretty new to me. Prior to it I had really only done one self-imposed-challenge that wasn't requested by the game in some manner and that was a nuzlocke run of Blue version.

So adding a challenge to my favorite game was a fantastic experience!

Notes I just wanted to say today about that run: If anyone enjoys FFT I honestly recommend giving it a shot for the unique story it lends itself to. I do recommend skipping the rules until after the second battle but that's up to YOU to decide.

My first post on the subject is me complaining about spending 4 hours grinding out the second fight and, despite hyperbole being my natural state, that was NOT hyperbole.

It DID take 60~ restarts to beat. It DID take 4 hours. The reason is that that 2nd battle is RNG as HECK, you HAVE to have Delita do some meaningful actions, you HAVE to have the enemies miss and make poor plays, you damn near HAVE to crit a few instances to save yourself from taking too much damage.

It's a numbers game to the extreme, so I wouldn't fault anyone for 'cheating' and skipping the 2nd fight for the ruleset lol.

The memory that stands out the most for that run is actually isolated in a post in which Ramza (Purrick in this run) talks like a total badass as just ONE DUDE running into a room full of enemies. I just think on that as a great encapsulated view of what it was like. The run started off face grindingly difficult, but because FFT is a game that offers so much freedom to the player it was extremely easy to 'break' the game into making Purrick overpowered as hell.

That's something I love about some tactical RPGs, I love having the ability to play smart so that I can play stupid later on, and breaking the game into making him one shot god is certainly a good payoff for playing smart early on :P

RetQuick: I miss RetQuick, it was primarily a short experiment I did in 2015 where I'd play a game for a short span of time (REALLY short, like 10-20 minutes) and record that for the purpose of making gifs and saying a short piece on what I thought.

It's one of those formats where the purpose was pretty shallow- but had a reason. I wanted to try making some gifs with some tools that existed online, so I made an excuse to do just that.

I also wanted to play a TON of games, usually through emulation on my sister's PSP, and this let me do that.

These two minor goals came together and so I spent a while making RetQuicks which were honestly more fun to make than they had any right to be. I mean the gifs were tedious but the playing? The thought sharing? The end product ocassionally having more appeal than just a photoset? It was fun.

I'm thinking whenever I have trouble picking a game for the blog I'll revisit the format... sorta.

I already reused it for a short stint to show clips I had no plan on expanding into a playthrough, but that died as well as it was too similar to Tidbits posts (another tag I no longer really use).

My thought is to rebrand retquick as something of a tryout for what game comes next. Play a handful of my backlog games for an hour or so each and say some thoughts before saying which one I'll continue as the main game for that period of time.

Old Tag Stuff: One of those things that only sticks to me since I made the decisions but it's always funny for me to look back on my old posts because I was apprehensive as hell toward making my posts visible. The reason my early playthroughs on the My-Tags page are variants of Ret instead of just "The name of the game so people can find this post" is because I felt like a liveblog would just spam the tag to hell-

Something I don't remotely feel bad for doing anymore.

So I avoided getting any sort of spotlight for quite a while on the blog for little reason.

Why Retphienix?: This is just a dumb thought I wanted to share and I'm sure I've said before.

It stands for retro!

Yeah!

Ain't that dumb and also not a real shorthand? lol

I think I have some sort of deer in headlights anxiety towards naming things, I mean do you think I think Full Impressions is a good summation for a video? I don't. But perhaps that's overshadowed by the other inexperiences and anxiety driven decisions that had- doesn't matter.

Retphienix is Retphienix because I sat there in 2015 and thought "Well... what do I name an alt account?"

My main is Redphienix, which yes, is ALSO a terrible name AND is misspelled. But it's that because of sentimental reasons. As a kid I misspelled Redphoenix when making my gamertag (I knew how to spell Phoenix back then as well, I was too excited about xbox live and misspelled it) and it's become something of a sentimental misspelling.

So I wanted to make a mix on that for my game blog, but I had no idea what. In the end I thought "RetroPhienix? I don't know. Retphienix is closer to Redphienix. I'll do that" and so it was done.

And just like how Redphienix is both bad and misspelled but exists because of sentimental reasons- Retphienix has acquired the same 'flavor' in my eye lol.

Aspirations for the blog: I have no immediate ramp up plans or road map or whatever, and in truth I'll be happy if the blog stays just as it is forever- up until tumblr ends- I cry over lost posts- and I reopen it on another platform.

But I do have blurry half-considered daydreams that I'd like to see happen for the blog through some hard work or shifts on my part.

One is something I'm already doing kinda, hence my embarrassing means of bringing it up a lot lately. Videos- I want those. I wanna make some looks back on series people don't talk about that I enjoy, I want to make videos sharing my thoughts on games I beat for the blog (like what full impressions kinda was, but I don't think they'll have a unified name from here on out). Maybe retrospectives, but mostly when I think of making a video tied to retphienix or me in general it's me looking at a game that said something to me, and saying it louder with my own interpretations on it.

You know the kind, videos where they talk about a video game but not the whole thing- just a singular message they really heard loud and clear from it intentionally or not. I dig those and I know I end a lot of games having plenty to say that could be directed into such a format.

We'll see.

And I'm along for the ride on that one as well- currently I'm keeping my eyes on whatever is directly next, which happens to be "I plan on playing Omori, if it clicks as something to talk about I would like to take a shot at that in a video too!"

The other is that I'd like to build a small community. Wouldn't know the first thing on doing that in a modern sense, but just a little online friend group to chat with and play games together. Something that could open up multiplayer and coop experiences being better shared on the blog and would just in general expand my gaming to what it used to be back on the 360 when I had a large group to play with.

Since the 360 era ended I've pretty much closed off- stopped playing competitive games due to lack of interest- and slowed down to playing all games either solo, with randoms (and no mic usually), or with my cousin. It's a rare instance when I play with some good people like @gamesception or another friend of mine, John.

When I diverted from playing competitive games nonstop toward other genres I didn't intend to also cut out all my online gaming buds, it just kinda happened, and I never really put any effort into rectifying that.

So more or less I'd like to one day sit down and work on a discord server, and then buck up and put the leg work in to make some gamin' buds again, but that's such a vague concept anymore.

Sounds all sad and what not but it's more ambivalent, I made decisions that

changed how gaming worked for me after the 360 and this is just where it landed for better and worse- I'd just like to see if I can make it a little better :P

General things I think when I think retphienix: Honestly? I think of how much fun I've had over the years and how thankful I am to have had an outlet that encouraged me to explore more of the medium.

I REALLY love games. I went to college for games, I've written LEAGUES about games, I've played countless games, my childhood was games, my adult life is games- games games games yada yada yada.

So when I think of retphienix I think of how without it I probably wouldn't have explored a lot of the corners of gaming that I have.

I genuinely, and I mean this, might not have sat down and beaten FF7 for myself and would have considered the amount I played as a kid to be enough.

I might not have played Chrono Trigger yet, and I KNOW I wouldn't have played Chrono Cross, and I'm happy as hell to have played both of those. CT was a mind blowing moment for me that showed me just how good an RPG can be, and CC gave me miles to think of in terms of innovating an RPG and how beholden to the narrative a sequel should be (I don't feel CC should have been chrono at all lol).

I DEFINITELY wouldn't have given New Vegas another chance. And I know I'm a sourpuss on NV, I've been that way since I maxed my achievements on the 360 for it, but replaying it really did reveal to me how exceedingly negative I was being.

My memories had become "It's brown and a boring location >:(" and "The factions all suck and it doesn't do anything with the idea of bad factions >:(" and became "It's... a little brown guys, not a big fan of the area" and "They didn't do enough with exploring the gray factions" while adding "Wait. This is pretty damn fun. And 90% of the additions are stellar. And I forgot about Dead Money, my favorite dlc in any game ever with a story that tears at my heart every time I think of it, NV good actually?"

Faxanadu would have remained a cool game I saw on SSFF and not a game I played to the end and fell in love with the aesthetic feel it has!

Also that's a game I cheated like crazy on lol, I would do it again! Save state scumming games meant to be rudely difficult is only fair :P

I probably would have never sat down to play through Windwaker which was such a positive and uplifting experience that I now get the most relaxed and warm feeling in my heart when I see those blue waves.

There's so many experiences I would have left on the table in favor of like... putting more hours into a live service title or something.

Maybe, and no offense to my cousin or anyone else playing it, but maybe I'd be no-lifing World of Warcraft nonstop just stagnating my interest toward the skinner box mechanics of an MMO?

Some offense, actually but lightheartedly lol.

But beyond the entire games I've played for the blog, when I think retphienix I picture all the time making gifs, all those games I played on the PSP for short stints, buying a retron 5 to add to what I could explore and being stoked when they shipped a freebie box of old controllers to go with it, getting angry at the retron for being a Piece Of Shit lol, crying at the end of damn near every game with an emotional story because I'm a big emotional mess of a person who finds investing and crying at a story way too easy thanks to empathy pulls, oh!-

Getting excited whenever I found that I had a "*controversial*" opinion that no one would care about lol. Like the one that comes to mind is that I thoroughly believe that Dragon Ball Z II: Gekishin Freeza!! for the NES is WAY better than the fandom recognized and appreciated sequel/remake Dragon Ball Z: Legend of the Super Saiyan!

How many people do you hear talking about either game, let alone saying the NES game that is roughly half of the SNES remake is the better one :P But I stand by that! The SNES one is a remake of DBZ1 and 2 for the NES but it loses all the charm and some of the fun of the NES ones by being a lackluster SNES game!

lol

I admitted wholeheartedly that this post would be a lit-

little directionless (gotta love the new tumblr poster making me break sentences like that), but to sum things up.

It's been 6 years. It's been an untold amount of work to be honest- liveblogging a game, at least for me, hasn't been the easiest thing. It's a lot of thinking out my thoughts (heh), it's a lot of learning tools to make the capturing process possible, it's a lot of experimenting, it's a lot of writing and editing, and, well, sometimes it's just tough.

I mean I went to school for coding, not video editing, not writing, not image processing, not this or that- but this hobby has introduced a lot of things even if only at a VERY base level (I admit fully to using online alternatives to make gifs for instance).

I learned a lot about, well, a lot of things in order to use this blog to learn more about games- and all that work has become part of why I've loved all 6 years of this blog.

6 years of gaming, work, and you all- and it's been worth the investment :) Here's to many more and all of you whether you stumble upon this post or not- literally anyone who's interacted in these 6 years, thank you, and anyone who hasn't I offer you well wishes as well.

<3

[langdonwhore]

prophecized pain (michael x fem! reader)

Description: It turns out you aren’t the loyal satanist you thought you were, and Michael just so happens to be the one who brings that to light.

Note: Talk by Hozier is what inspired this honestly. This is my first Michael fanfic and I hope it’s up to par! I appreciate all forms of feedback! Let me know what you think.

Word Count: 1.7k (the rest of the chapters will be much longer!)

Warnings for this chapter include: Cussing.

Chapter One:

You noticed him walk in almost immediately, it was a shift in the air. He looked as if the world had almost legitimately put itself upon his shoulders. He was covered in dirt, and another substance you weren't too curious to think or ask about. His hair, heart, and soul disheveled and you felt as if you shouldn't be able to tell that about a person from their mere appearance. At least not at first glance. He had lost all hope, and you could feel it.

Far too caught up in your own head, you hadn't noticed he'd made his way to the pew you were sat at, plopping down with no mercy and staring straight ahead as the dark priest belted her beliefs to Satan's loyal followers. You snapped your head forward, careful to give the man his own sorrowed privacy. You chimed into the conversation the dark priest was arguing, laughable as it was really everyone was talking, discussing and comparing their own evil actions they had performed for their Dark Lord. Chewing your lip you raised an anxious arm to spill your latest duties, and when the dark priest called upon you, you spoke cautiously. "Lately I've been focused more on stealing money from celebrities and donating it to animal shelters." Hearing a few scoffs you curled in upon yourself. You knew the majority of the people who attended the Satanic Church were murderers, it didn't bother you because you knew they had a primal cause, a destiny to fulfill, but you weren't like most Satanists. Not really.

When the service was over you made your way to the snack deck, plopping grapes and blueberries into your mouth as everyone gathered and planned their next heists. Grabbing a cup full of juice you stared off about to take a sip when you noticed the same man from earlier was staring at the table full of sandwiches. He never made a move to grab one, eyes locked onto the snacks as if they were the forbidden fruits. Setting your pride.. and anxiety aside you took a few cautious strides towards him. He was terrifying in the most unexplainable ways. You cleared your throat and he made no move to turn towards you, only taking a deep breath and tapping his leather boot against the tile. You spoke hesitantly, "You know, you may be new, but these are for everyone and I can tell you're starving." You stepped forward to stand beside him, grabbing a plate and putting a few items onto it and gesturing it towards him. He made no move to take it from you, but turned his head toward you to scan your figure.

"You don't belong here." He spoke, turning his entire body towards you. You flinched away, something about his icy tone and stance had you uneasy. "Care to explain?" you asked him, setting the plate down, just to give him your full attention. He raised an eyebrow, and you could've swore he rolled his eyes. "You, as in the girl who steals money to donate it to fucking charities, does not belong here. You aren't fit to serve my Father when what he craves is chaos. He doesn't need charity work sweetheart, He needs bloodshed and innocence sacrificed to him. Acts of horror your little mind could never conjure up. I've sat in grief for days in the forest, just for him to guide me home and.." he paused and you took that moment to breathe. Catching glimpse of the blood splattered under his sleeves and over his black clothing that was days old at least. "people like you, who are unable to proudly shed blood upon His name aren't worthy of redemption."

You were stunned to say the least. He was steaming and whatever else had him upset before he even brought himself here was fueling him on. How dare he, a strange man you'd never met before, accuse you of not fulfilling your Satanic promise. Of course he was right, you had never shed blood or sold your soul. Far too terrified to get caught by the law and far too scared to bare your neck to the beast. The thought of it sending you spiraling into shame and how dare a stranger have the audacity. How dare he. "What makes you think I haven't fulfilled my promise? Do you always intend to insult strangers, or is that today's theme?" you barked back, trying to feign control.

He really did sigh and roll his eyes this time, entirely fed up it seemed. Running a dirty hand through his golden locks he snarled, "The one bad thing you've ever done is steal the money from that racist youtuber, but then you donated all three hundred million of it to the animal rescue center. You have yet to sacrifice your soul to my Father and then question me on my anger? You can't claim to serve him when you haven't given yourself to him fully. I'm fucking starving" He spoke as he snatched the plate off the table and walked out of the building, leaving you frozen and slack jawed. Never before had you been so confused, he referred to the Dark Lord as his Father, which wasn't unusual at all. Except, there was something about the way he referred to the beast. It was unholy, unwelcoming, and unsafe. You had never met such a strange, yet dark aura. His presence still lingered no matter where you ran to, even in bed late at night or in your early morning shower. The darkness was tainted and you could almost smell it.

Exactly a week later you were back at service, hoping the not so familiar face would stay hidden in whatever shadow he originated from. A week had passed and you still had felt the nagging sensation of what felt like paranoia ever since his stern prophesation to you. You had hoped dearly he wouldn't return, you had hoped he wouldn't taint your mind any further. Fear and curiosity embezzling itself into the depths of your mind. Oddly enough, you completely doubted that was the last time you'd ever see him. In fact you had an aching feeling inside that he was near. It was an overbearing feeling in your chest that had the hairs on the back of your neck astray, and the goosebumps littering your body, rigid. With a shaky body you made your way to your usual pew, noticing a pretty unusual commotion at the front alter. Oh no.

There he was, in all his unholy glory. Wearing a black robe, and clearly he had showered this time around. You were standing now, almost unconsciously making your way to the front, to him. You were prying, way too curious to care about the unforeseen consequences that you being nosy may bring. Then you heard it, "He's the one.." and you froze in place. Time had unbeknowingly stopped, to some that statement would be rather normal, rather funny really. He was the Father's son. He was the Antichrist. You didn't need proof, the prophecy was already proven from the aching fear you had felt for him since you first laid eyes upon him. The way he had ridiculed you for not being worthy of his Father's redemption. It all made sense now.

With wide eyes you took quiet steps back to your seat, hoping no one saw, and hoping no one could sense your distress. Looking up you caught sight of him, preparing to make sacrifice of a young man and woman. He raised the dagger, chanting a loud 'Ave Satanas' along with everyone else there. It took a good nanosecond before he sliced both of their throats, sending them to an unknown realm. It was catastrophic really, the upset feeling you had in your stomach as the blood poured out of their bodies. It was even worse when you realized he had been staring at you for who knows how long. His eyes were glazed over, a pale black as they tore into the deepest depths of your soul. You knew exactly what he wanted as his lip curled up in a little smirk that made you wildly uncomfortable. He wanted, craved almost, you to bare your neck to him. Hand him your soul on a silver platter like everyone else in the building had already. Idealistically you would, considering the main idea of the church was to literally serve him but was it really worth it? No. He'd have free reign to your subconscious, you're carnal desires and deepest regrets. Something so livid about that terrified you into denial.

As he smoothly stepped off the alter, you took that as your momentary sign to vacate the situation. Walking home to avoid being subjected to you're unwanted destiny. Maybe you'd decide to submit but was it really worth it if you had to hand it to him? His very aura had darkness and power you didn't want to dabble with. Comically, you'd rather not cause trouble but you knew if the true Son had been found, the world was soon to meet it's doom. Prophecies were always fulfilled, and soon this one would be too. Why fret over anything when everything would be over soon.

Late at night in bed you were woken to harsh thumps on your door, jumping up you grabbed your sheer black robe and tied a knot in it before checking the time. 3:00AM. You sighed before getting a baseball bat and walking to the front door, "Who is it?" you asked gripping the bat in fear of an intruder. But the hairs sticking up on the back of your neck spoke numbers.

There was a dark chuckle before the door creaked open on it's own, forcing you to stumble back. You raised the bat and prepared to swing, then you saw his face. "Oh. It's you." you sighed before dropping the bat and going to sit on the couch. He was dressed in all black, a turtleneck dress shirt accompanied by dress pants and mens boots. "Who else would visit you at the Devil's hour?" He strung, ice in his tone and trouble in his smile. Raising your hands in mock humor you let out a humorless laugh speaking, "I don't even know your name, yet you randomly show up to my house? Kinda predatory if you ask me." He didn't think that was funny. Not at all.

"Well I wasn't asking.. and my name is Michael Langdon. It's a displeasure to finally meet you."

[paralumanleadmehome]

Bough Breaks by Fawn_Velveteen (a fanfic review)

Just so you guys know how much this fic means to me, I was at a book fair two hours away from home, and I was reading this. I was at a book fair surrounded by so many books written by internationally acclaimed authors and yet I can't let this fic go. This is how much I love this.

A little disclaimer though, I am honestly a sucker for Dadzawa content - especially when Dadzawa shows love to the little green bean. BUT I am also admittedly drawn to stories that depict abuse, mental health, and of the likes. Which makes this story my cup of tea.

To give you a little bit of insight, here's the summary for Bough Breaks (as posted in Ao3):

In life, nothing is certain. Pro-heroes aren’t always the good guys. Children are not spared from the darkest realms of humanity. Izuku isn't acting like his normal self at school lately, and his homeroom teacher has taken notice. After learning about the mother’s new, unwelcomed boyfriend, Aizawa’s concern shifts into dread. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep his student away from harm.

A little in-depth but quick summary here would be:

Midoriya is a rape victim and the perpetrator is none other than Inko's boyfriend who's also a famous pro-Hero. Midoriya was antagonized by someone who was supposed to protect the greater good, who was supposed to protect people who were weaker than him, and the first one to notice and trust his instinct to act is Aizawa.

Now what I absolutely love about this fic is how it's written. I honestly believe that the author is a brave, amazing, and a wonderful human being for having written this story. I always believe that people who can write about abuse, depression, and anxiety and still strive to create and see a better world despite it are amazing.

Fawn-Velveteen has created a perfect balance between having someone suffering from trauma and having someone else be there for them.

I love love love the fact that Aizawa's instinct to protect developed into something more personal for him and for Midoriya. I love the fact that everything he did was for Izuku - how he changed things in his life, in his home, in his work, in his everything. BUT I ALSO ALSO ALSO love the fact that Fawn_Velveteen created that perfect sense of balance between who Aizawa is with and without Izuku, the different parts of him that aren't fully separated but also not fully integrated, something that stories like these rarely dive into and something I wish someone told me before I became the tired soul that I am now.

Let me elaborate.

Everything Aizawa did, he did it all for Izuku. Turn his office into a bedroom? No problem. Miss his work (both teaching and hero work) just so he could watch over the boy? Easy peazy. Completely change the routine of his life and be all touchy and huggy and loving and warm? Heck yeah if that's what Izuku needs.

But everything above is what Izuku needs. What about Aizawa's needs?

Admit it or not, there is only so much you can do and give and be with people who have undergone trauma, are going through mental health issues, and deep heavy dramas until it affects you. And gosh damnit, it affected Aizawa.

He doesn't see Izuku as a burden and I believe you have to kill him first if you want to convince him of that, considering he hasn't murdered you first. But damnit he also needs a breather. And I love that he isn't called selfish for needing it. Emphasis on need, not want. And I love the fact that he doesn't have to carry the burden of Izuku's world alone; he has Present Mic and Midnight and Vlad (and Endeavor, who knew) and they actually let him call for these Mental Health Breaks if they aren't the ones asking him to take it. And it's healthy. And Aizawa wasn't selfish for wanting it. In fact, I admire Aizawa because he found a way to deal with his breaks (his own life apart from Izuku) by settling into compromises with Izuku. He doesn't just up and disappear. He communicates. He asks if Izuku can hold for another hour, he asks if he can have lunch with so-and-so, he asks if this person can watch over him while he does this. He asks. And if Izuku can't, they deal with it some other way. And it's healthy. And I love it. Bad habits die hard so kill them before they come.

I also enjoy the fact that even though Izuku was already the holder of One-for-All, no one victim blames him. They see him as he is - a child, a young boy, someone who had everything ripped away from him. It hurts my heart, yes, but I'm glad that no one blames him. On a side note, I am furious with his perpetrator's supporters. Like hell you think Bakken is innocent. Fuck you. But that's for a different post. Also, Monoma's a dick for his insensitive comment. But again, another post.

I wish that Izuku could be kinder to himself but that's how trauma works, I think. It takes away the good. It takes away the capacity to think of the good. And old habits die hard, especially habits that were forced on you, but as I said, I am hopeful. And I am proud of Izuku's progress in the story. It hurts when he regresses, but it's also a clear reminder that healing isn't linear. And just becauae Izuku regresses doesn't mean he doesn't deserve love. I mean Thor was a depressed alcoholic but Mjolnir still deemed him worthy. Just saying.

I love that no one blames Izuku when he has panic attacks. I love that no one calls him weak for it. I love that it gets reiterated again and again and again that it's not his fault, that none of the things that happened to him is his fault. It's something he needs to know and I love that everyone is patient to remind him of that.

So if you find yourself in Aizawa's shoes, you aren't selfish for needing a break. And if you find yourself in Izuku's, you aren't hopeless just because you regressed. Healing isn't linear. And you need you to be kind to you.

And I don't know. I'm just really really excited for this fic. I have an idea as to how it will end but I still look forward to it nonetheless. I lool forward to the day the "victim" turns into a "survivor" - that Izuku is no longer trapped but is a conqueror.

Tbh, I think All Might could've done better here but I'll leave my opinion of him out of this for now. And I'm not saying that the fic is perfect; I still think it has flaws in itself, but frankly speaking, I almost don't care.

It's a good fic.

And if you're like me who wants to see a brighter and better world despite the trashy realities that surround us, maybe we can share this cup of tea.

(Also it wouldn't hurt if you can send the author some love. Part of that love is what keeps them going.)

(Also attaching the fic cos why not)

[whoisntgayforgatsby]

Secrets Aren't So Secret In A Gay Bar

Nick just wanted to spend a night by himself in the towns secret, underground, gay bar.

Summer has been flying by in such a haze. I’ve done absolutely nothing now that I look back on it. It’s all been me, setting up my cousin, Daisy, a married woman, with my next-door neighbor that I just so happened to have major feelings for, Jay Gatsby. It’s been rough.

I needed time to myself for once, therefore, I have cancelled any and all plans I had for this evening. All except for the ones that involved me going to the secret queer-bar in town. It was in the basement of ‘Sways’, another bar and it was called ‘Bang!’ . It required a password to enter the room.

The word was arbitrium, meaning ‘choice’ in Latin.

Few people knew of it.

I had ate dinner at the little diner next to the bar, not in the mood to cook for myself tonight. I still had an hour to kill before it opened at seven. I decide to browse the shops in the area to pass the time.

I first enter a nice clothing shop that I barely get to look through before I spot Daisy. I don’t want to be dragged along to whatever she’s doing, so, I leave.

Another downside to being hopelessly queer is the fact that being around others was much harder. I couldn’t exactly be out around people as I could be killed or imprisoned for it. It was the worst when I fall for the lovely men - Gatsby - in my friend-groups that are impossibly straight, or, I almost slip up and expose myself to close-minded people. I play a dangerous game by being around others.

I don’t even get to enter the next store I planned to enter, as I spot Gatsby eyeing an expensive watch through the window. I’m stressed and jumpy and end up just sitting in Sways for the next hour or so.

I wait longer than necessary until a few men and a group of ladies make their way down.

I shuffle to the door with the big, kind of scary, guard stood before it. “Hello.” I greet the man and he scowls.

“Password.” He grunts with his deep voice.

I lean in close to him, murmuring the single word into his ear. He cracks a smile and laughs a bit. “It’s not the right way to say it but, go on in.” He permits and I thank him quietly before hurrying down the stairs. It is utterly magical down here. Girls kissing girls, boys touching boys… The music is loud and the people are fancy… I’ve never felt more alive in my entire life.

I spot a handsome man at the bar quite quickly and I saunter to his side. “Well, hello there,” I grin. “Is this seat taken?” I hum lowly, motioning to the stool next to him.

“Oh, Lord. For a man as rakishly handsome as you, even if it happened to be taken, I would tell you otherwise.” His voice is deep and he has a lisp as he reaches to touch my arm.

“You are much better looking, Sir. I assure you of that.” I let my eyes wander him.

“That is very untrue… Do you have a name to fit that handsome face?”

“Nick.” I answer and he smiles.

“Lovely, fitting… I’m Eric.” He flutters his lashes at me.

“Perfect name for such a wonderful face.” I brush a strand of hair from his brown eyes.

“I’ve never seen you here before, Nick.” I notice that I don’t like the way my name sounds on his tongue and I flinch.

“Yeah, first time. Been too busy playing matchmaker all summer.” We both chuckle.

“Well, tonight, you get to be your own matchmaker, I assume?” He flicks his brows up.

“Are you trying to take me home?” I run my tongue over my lips. All I could see for us was maybe a fling or two. I didn’t have that feeling, that need or want to have him. I didn’t feel the way that Gatsby made me feel. That’s how I can tell the future.

“Maybe~.” He hums with a smirk.

So, I kiss him. It’s not as good as I’d hoped for it to be but, it was something. I bite at his lip to spice things up a bit and he shoves his tongue into my mouth, exploring it like a cave.

When I pull away, neither of us look very satisfied with it.

“Uh…” He looks about the room. “What do you do for work?” He mutters awkwardly.

“Um, stocks. I work in them.” I answer, not fully paying attention as I look about the room of new people and faces. People I could fall in love with possibly.

“Yeah… Sounds, um… Cool. I'm an accountant.” He's also far from our conversation which fell apart over a very shitty kiss.

I scan the room more and I feel all the blood drain from my body as my eyes fall upon none other than Jay Gatsby.

“Oh, God…” I gape and Eric looks to find what I'm looking at.

“What?”

“I know him,” I croak. “He's my neighbor .” I choke and suddenly I can't breathe.

“He is? Is he gay?” Eric questions but I can't answer and jump from my stool.

I give Eric a wave of my hand, either meaning ' be right back ’ or ' goodbye’ and I couldn't care less which one he took it as.

I dash through the tightly packed crowd and into the bathroom, just hoping I wasn't spotted. As soon as I get in there, I hunch over, one hand on my knee and the other on my chest as I pant and my heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my veins.

I'm panicking. I think I am at least.

Why was Gatsby here? Why had he insisted on me setting him up with Daisy? Why? What was this summer supposed to be?

Once I'm able to calm myself and not throw-up with nerves, I step back into the loud bar full of people. I look around and just as I spot Gatsby, he spots me. I feel myself crumble as we both give one another a panicked look and I duck back into the bathroom to hyperventilate.

The door swings open and in bursts Gatsby moments later. He grabs me by the shoulders and at first, I think he may kiss me. But, that's just my stupid fantasies.

“Nick, old sport! What-... What are you doing here?” The calm and cool Gatsby I knew was gone and his words were frantic as his hair dangled down in his eyes. I can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows forcefully, his jaw shifting as his fingers tighten on my shoulders.

“I-... I think you know. I think it's obvious why I'm here… But, why are you? You have Daisy.” I stammer out. He swallows again.

“Just-... I came to-... Find you, old sport!” He exclaims. “I needed your help and I-... Saw you come in?” He doesn’t seem as confidant in this lie as he had been in the first one.

“There’s a password, Gatsby.”

“Don’t need one, I’m Jay Gatsby. I just say I have business and they let me in.” He crossed his arms, dropping his grip on me to do so.

“That is an even bigger reason not to let you in! If people like you just waltz on in here, it’ll be shut down and everybody will be arrested in minutes!” I snap in a hushed tone. Gatsby frowns deeply at me.

“What is that supposed to mean? People ‘ like me ’?” He scowls.

“Straight, white, rich men from East and West Egg that feel like they can have the world because they have money, Gatsby.” I glare. I don’t mean to be so awful to him but, I’m bitter and angry over every piece of him and myself right now.

“Wow… Okay, I get it now.” He lets out a shaking breath and turns. I hear him sniff.

“I didn’t mean you , I meant the others.”

“I’ll leave you then.”

And, Gatsby was off. I follow him, calling after him until we were in the street and he got into that bright yellow coupe of his and sped off.

I hail a cab and head to Gatsby’s, only to find he didn’t come home. I felt like a jackass for what I’d done and said. He didn’t deserve that. It’s all because I’m mad that I love him and that he loves Daisy. It just wasn’t fair . I try so hard for him because I’m in love with him and I want to never see him upset. Now, I’m the reason that he’s gone missing.

He’s probably just with Daisy.

Of course he liked her better. Anybody would. Being me was not special or spectacular like I wanted it to be. I was just Nick Carraway, the guy in the tiny bungalow behind the most wonderful and rich man’s mansion. I was just the guy who watched, who curled into himself and hid from everything. I wasn’t Gatsby, chasing down and catching whatever the hell he pleased, nor was I Daisy, a beautiful being with every man wishing to have me. I wasn’t even Tom for Heaven’s sakes. I mean, he still was popular to people compared to me.

I kick up stones as I cut through the back of Gatsby’s house to reach mine. The summer is fading away and I can just about feel the nip of fall biting at my exposed skin.

I keep my head down, ashamed of myself for being so selfish and rude to the man I cared so deeply for. I keep it down until I reach my drive, lifting it and my eyes meeting blue ones. “Nick.”

Gatsby.

He stands up from sitting on my porch step, brushing off his bum. “Nick, I’m so sorry for running off like that. It was rude and immature.”

“No! No, Gatsby, I shouldn’t have been so harsh.” I insist as I come face to face with him.

“I was lying and frantic when I should’ve just been up front with you.” He shakes his head, frowning.

“What do you mean?” I ask. “I mean, I know you were lying but, what are you talking about?”

Gatsby steps a little closer and touches my forearm lightly. “You see, old sport, I did at one time think I loved Daisy… Time changes things and when I first saw you there was an undeniable pull, this alluring yank that ripped me from my fixation on the past and it pulled me to the future. I, at first, tried to, well, hold onto Daisy, but, after I saw her again, I knew I didn’t feel for her any longer…” He pauses and looks about, avoiding my eyes. “And, well, Nick, old sport, I kept it going because it brought me closer to you.”

“Gatsby...” I gawk. “What are you saying?” My voice is but a whisper. Gatsby's warm hands now rest on my shoulders and he forces himself to look me directly in the eye.

“I'm saying , all of it, every single thing, old sport, is all for you . I did it all because I've fallen hopelessly in love with you.” His fingers get tight as he's telling me this, nervous and trembling. “I was young and stupid and never loved before… I thought that you could only feel that once in your life and I thought I had with Daisy. But, after I left to war, I realized that she was special because ladies didn't catch my fancy.”

“You love me, Gatsby?” Was the only thing I could think to say to his speech declaring his very much required feelings.

His hands slip from me and hit his sides, he looks away and when his voice finally comes, it's broken and weak. “Yes, Nick… I do… Love you, that is. I was hoping it would go away but it hasn't and I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have… Said anything.” He hangs his head and I think he may cry, so, I reach and touch his wrist, my fingers brushing the top of his hand.

“Jay, I have feelings for you too. I thought it was blatantly obvious.” I say in a hushed, soothing tone.

“You do? I was trying so hard to impress you that I guess I just thought…” He trails.

“What are you talking about? That was all for Daisy .” I say.

“Well, I couldn't have exactly put an obscene amount of flowers in your house and said ' oh, and by the way, these are for you, not Daisy because I think I'm in love with you.’ Now, could I?” He sighs, frustrated.

“Well, I thought that it was obvious that I had feelings for you when I did anything and everything asked of me,” I say. “I followed you around like a lost puppy.”

“I did that to Dan Cody and I wasn't in love with him.” Gatsby answers.

“But, you wanted his money so it's different.”

He stares at me after that, running his eyes over my body many times before looking back at our shoes, pointed toe-to-toe.

“Can-... May I kiss you?” He looks up at me through the stray hairs in his eyes.

“Please.”

And, so, he does.