#i’m literally paralyzed with shame

[inthebackgroundscreaming]

Please stop perceiving me or I’m gonna fucking end it all oh my godddddd

[xoxoladyaz]

AU-gust, Day 6: Domestic

Eddie Munson was a rockstar. Eddie Munson was a renegade. Eddie Munson was a bad boy, living life on the edge, destined for wild nights on the open road, for success and fame and riches. Eddie Munson was – 

“ – ridiculous.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie whirled around from psyching himself up in the mirror to glare at Jeff. Jeff, who had the utter nerve to roll his eyes at him.

“You’re being ridiculous, man,” Jeff repeated.

“He’s not being ridiculous, he’s being a baby,” Gareth cut in with a snort.

Eddie gaped at his two best friends, his musketeers, his brothers in arms. “What – I – how dare you! I am not being a baby, I’m Eddie fucking Munson, I’m a high-rolling freak on the streets and in the sheets - ”

“Dude, gross.”

“ – who’s ready to rock across America!” He finished emphatically.

Jeff just quirked his eyebrow at him. “You’re literally pouting right now.”

“No, I’m not!”

Jeff and Gareth shared a look before sighing in tandem. “You’ve gone to bed before eleven every night the last few weeks. The rest of us aren’t even out of the venue by the time you’re asleep,” Gareth started.

“Not to mention the fact that you can’t do anything in the morning until you’ve called and talked to Steve,” Jeff continued.

“And if you can’t talk to Steve during his lunch break then you’re grumpy for the rest of the day.”

“You keep complaining about the fact that none of his shirts smell like him anymore - ”

“ – seriously, you threw a temper tantrum until Stu stopped and bought a bottle of his shitty cologne for you to spray on your pillow - ”

“ – and you keep making super long and sappy speeches about missing your ‘sweetheart’ every single performance before we play ‘Faithfully’ - ”

“ – it’s embarrassing dude, we’re a metal band!”

“ – and to top it all off, you literally can’t go more than three minutes without talking about Steve or what Steve would think of what we’re driving by and God forbid you make any sort of decision without talking to Steve first.”

Eddie stood frozen, paralyzed by the heat rushing towards his face. “I – I do not!”

Phil walked in from the back of the bus and chuckled. “Dude, you literally called him to ask if you should order ketchup or mustard with your burger last night.”

“I - ” Eddie sputtered before crossing his arms. “I – he was having burgers too and I wanted us to match!”

“Awww,” Gareth cooed mockingly, fluttering his eyes back at Eddie. “That’s so sweet.”

“Ignore him,” Jeff said, shoving Gareth off of his chair. “For the record, it is really sweet, man. So why are you trying to hide it with all this ‘bad boy of rock and roll stuff?’”

“What do you mean ‘hide it?’ I’ve always been a bad boy.”

Silence. (If they weren’t on a moving bus and had their windows open, it would have been the perfect moment for a symphony of crickets to kick in.)

Eddie squeezed his arms against his chest and pouted (and yes, he knew he was pouting this time, thank you very much.) “Rude.”

Jeff rose with a sigh and crossed the tour bus. When he reached Eddie he threw his arm around him in a half-hug. “Eds, my man, I love you, but you’ve only ever been scary looking.”

“Seriously, you’re the sappiest guy I know,” Gareth added unhelpfully.

“And before you say that’s not metal,” Jeff kept going (and yeah, he knew Eddie pretty well to head off that train of thought), “that’s what sets us apart from the rest of the bands on the scene.”

“What does?”

“You being a super loving guy, man,” Phil nodded with a dazed look in his eyes. “Truthfully, I think love is the most metal thing of all. It can change the world.”

“Wow,” Gareth snorted after a few moments, “have you gotten up close and personal with Mary Jane already today?”

“Well, yeah, but - ”

“What Phil is trying to say is that you’re made of love, dude. And it’d be a real shame if you lost track of that, especially because that’s what we love about you, and that’s what Steve loves about you,” Jeff finished. He squeezed Eddie’s shoulder comfortingly before letting go.

“You’re right,” Eddie rubbed his hands against his arms. “I know you’re right, it’s just – this was supposed to be what I wanted, you know? Touring and fame and the open road. But - ”

Jeff prodded him gently. “But?”

“But I miss Steve,” Eddie sighed. “I miss seeing him come home every day. I miss waking up next to him every morning and falling asleep next to him every night. I miss his delicious pasta dinners and his burned pancakes because he always burns them and I just – I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. I just miss him. But I don’t want to give up what we have either.”

The boys were silent for a moment, looking amongst each other and back at Eddie, who was wilting in on himself.

“Well,” Phil started, “we don’t have to tour like this. We could just do weekends maybe?”

“Or summers,” Jeff hummed thoughtfully. “That way Steve can come with us.”

“And Will!” Gareth perked up, grinning. “He doesn’t take classes in the summers, he’d be able to come with us then.”

“And that way by the time we’re done touring, Steve will be headed back to work and you can be home with him,” Jeff nodded, like it was decided. “We can definitely make that work.”

Eddie’s voice was small and quiet when he spoke. “You’d really do that for me?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t be just ‘for you,’ it would be good for all of us, but yeah, man. We just want you to be happy. That’s way more important than any tour.”

Eddie nodded once, twice, and then he was throwing his arms around Jeff and tackling him to the floor. “Thank you thank you thank you, you guys are the best, Steve’s gonna be so excited I gotta go tell him RIGHT NOW - ” and then Eddie was off, whooping happily into the back of the tour bus.

Jeff sat up from his spot now on the floor and exchanged looks with Gareth and Phil. “You’re good with that, yeah?”

“Dude, if Eddie wasn’t going to say anything, I was,” Gareth shook his head. “Eddie’s way less of a slob when Steve’s around.”

“And he’s a great cook! I’m getting tired of all this Taco Bell.”

“Speak for yourself, Phil!” Gareth growled, affronted, and the three remaining Corroded Coffin members began arguing about the nutritional benefits of Taco Bell.

(When they finally went on tour again the following summer it was a much better experience for everyone involved. Eddie was almost constantly in a good mood, Gareth didn’t feel the need to strangle Eddie for hogging the phone, Phil ate his weight in homemade – or hotel-made – pasta, and Jeff? Jeff got to enjoy himself without any worries about his best friend losing his way, because anytime Eddie got a little stressed or in his head, all it took was one look at Steve and he was okay, and that was more than worth the crowded tour bus.)

[marinettesaltprompts]

The Perfect Partner (Part 2)

Prompt by @ironicreality

“What?” Adrien was confused, he thought he was supposed to look like Ladybug’s old sidekick, but instead he was in this weird restrictive mix of a skintight supersuit and a vaugely ‘royal prince’ uniform..

Cat themed of course, complete with silly pawprints for the buttons. If they weren’t in a literal life or death situation he’d probably find it kind of fun in a childish way.

“You- I…” Ladybug shakes her her and scowls. “Of course it was one big trick- I’m going to-”

There is another crack a stone wall behind them shudders with a superpowered blow.

“Ladybug, whatever it is we have a job to do.” Adrien sharply reminded her.

Ladybug’s scowl didn’t let up, but her attention returned to the present. Wordlessly she grabs his arm and practically drags him closer to the enemy.

“Uh, Ladybug- what’s the *plan?*” Superpowered or not, Adrien wasn’t looking forwards to seeing the Akuma he’d suicidally upset for some reason.

Abruptly they passed a piece of rubble and they were suddenly in view of the thing. A bunch of other heroes were desperately dancing around it with no other apparent goal than drawing attention and hoping to avoid immediate death.

“Distract it and keep it in the school.” Ladybug *growled* and literally *threw him* at the stone monster. Adrien found himself slamming into the thing, rebounding off the hard body with a sharp gasp (some part of his brain confirms that the collision would have been lethal normally, so superpowers were confirmed) and landed on his backside before the thing.

“Oh hey, who’s the new guy?” The turtle themed-one asked.

“Carapace, back before you change back!” Ladybug interrupts. “Everyone else, leave this to *Cat Walker*.”

Wait, what?

Adrien stares in shock as the rest of the team wordlessly abandons him. 'Cat Walker’ stares up at the Akuma, and somehow dodges to the side in time to avoid being crushed.

What follows is a full ten minutes of Cat Walker continuing that trend. The super-agility, strength and speed help but the monster still knocks him through a few walls. Surprisingly he doesn’t immediately die but instead just feels bruised and winded.

At some point he notices that he has a metal stick attached to his back and finds that it snaps wide to become a staff of some kind. It’s kind of neat.

It also does nothing what-so-ever to the giant rock monster-

Oh, never mind. The Akuma *laughs* like it’s being tickled.

By the end of the ten minutes Cat Walker is tried, sore and quite sure that he’s going to need to be “brought back” by Ladybug. But luckily for him, that’s when the rest of the team comes back, this time with a stripey wasp-themed hero and within moments the Akuma is contained and then paralyzed before Ladybug comes over with some a bottle of spray (red and black spotted of course) that reveals a choker around the Akuma’s neck.

And so Cat Walker witnesses his first (?, it feels familiar… did he see it on TV before?) purification and the Miraculous Cure.

Honestly it’s kind of awe-inspiring up close to see the school rebuilt in a second around him but, the wonder is quickly cut off as Carapace turns to him again. “So hey newbie, not bad-”

“He’s a temp!” Ladybug interrupted again, sharply with that same sour tone, “*just a temp.*”

“Hunh, oh.” Carapace shrugs, “shame Dude, you did pretty good there for first time.”

Cat Walker finds his voice. “… I nearly died six times.”

Ladybug *snorts*, and the Dragon-themed hero calmly- but *snidely* in a way that reminded him of Kagami when she was feeling smug- speaks up; “we noticed.”

“Thanks for your help!” The wasp quickly distracts from that, “sorry about taking so long. I had a thing and-”

She was giving a polite and possibly true excuse. Which was more than he’d probably get from anyone else here- did they *really* need to leave him alone to fight the monster?

Oh well. Adrien knew when to cut his losses, so he drops into the appropriate script.

“That’s alright, I’m sure you had a good reason.” Cat Walker slides into the polite etiquette with a disturbing ease, almost like he *meant it*. “But I’m sure we all have our lives to return to.”

“That’s right!” Ladybug chirps, clearly in a good mood now, “so everyone get to your rendezvous points and-”

Cat Walker pulled off the ring.

“ADRIEN!” Carapace’s eyes bulge. “You-” he turns to Ladybug. “You picked *him*?”

From the sound of things, Carapace’s good opinion of him had disappeared like Cat Walker’s confining suit. Come to think of it the same seemed to apply to the Wasp Heroine, and the Dragon’s eyes had become hard.

Adrien, for his part, couldn’t say exactly why he’d suddenly tugged off the magic ring. Well, no: of course he could. The form felt powerful for sure, but it was also confining, and the fact that he’d been thrown to the giant rock monster without warning didn’t make it more appealing. But somehow being Cat Walker also felt like…

Embarrassment? *Anger*?

No. Not just that, there was resentment burning under his skin but also…

Submission?

Whatever it was, some part of him utterly *loathed* being Cat Walker even before Ladybug threw him at the giant monster and wouldn’t stand for wearing the ring a second longer.

“You wanted this back right after, right?” Adrien found the box from before -where had it gone when changed?- in his hand, and spied the little black cat-thing from before in the corner for his eye for a second before he popped the ring in and snapped it closed. “Here.”

He pointedly pushed it to her, and Ladybug reflexively took it even while apparently still in shock.

“Right, so was that it?” He put on a winning smile, just like the creepy cameramen at his job loved. The rest of the team still seemed lost for words, and Adrien- still feeling his skin crawl with *whatever* from the ring and the phantom pains of being beaten- decided to escape the little clan of Superfurries before that changed. “Great, thanks for all your hard work- say, is she all right?”

He pointed to the Akuma victim, currently dazed and slowly coming to. She looked like a girl a little past four.

“Uh-yeah…” Carapace looked over to her, “hey so-”

“One of you should probably get her out of here, bye!” Adrien shot another smile and promptly *left*.

—

If you asked him, he couldn’t say for sure *why* he so jerkily left the team like that. Even more than the shock and frustration of being made into an impromptu mouse for an Akuma to play with, it was something *else* like what he felt from the ring.

If Father had seen him act in that way, he was sure the uptight man would have shoved him straight back into etiquette lessons again. But Adrien was quite sure that if he’d stayed he would have said something worse.

Either way, the whole thing was behind him as he found his class restored, so he promptly put the surreal experience out of his mind.

And things mostly went back to normal after that. There were some odd looks from his classmates, especially from Chloe and the Class President’s clique, he just paid attention to the lessons and moved on.

Father actually spoke to him at dinner, which was kind of a novelty. Somehow he’d found out about his little ‘heroics’ in saving Chloe (not about the superhero part, just the suicidal part) and gave him a lecture about basic common sense and not running into danger.

It was… actually kind of fair. The man was a complete jerk most of the time but Adrien had to admit that he’d been a bit of lemming, so he just took his medicine without complain: and that satisfied Gabriel enough to leave him be after that.

What *was* surprising though was finding Ladybug waiting for him in his room.

The pleasantries are short (nonexistent).

“Today was a one-time thing. Don’t expect to touch the ring again.” Ladybug is professional, but there’s an undercurrent there that he doesn’t care for.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Adrien keeps his tone airy, like he’s not bothered that she’s there.

(Something in the back fof his skull crawls)

“Good. Then we’re done here.” Ladybug turns to leave.

But Adrien, whoever he was in the past, was just a *little* too ‘imperfect’ now, just a little petty now to just let his all-too-long career of spontaneous Akuma hackysack slide without at least one jab in of his own;

“Do you usually leave people to fight the enemy on their own? Or is that just for temps?”

Ladybug ignored him as she left.

—

Adrien, having not enjoyed his brief time as a hero/punchingbag as much as you might think, was quite happy to ignore *her* and the entire war once more. Which he did for a full day, a full week, and very nearly a full month.

But there always whispers about Ladybug having to use different ‘cats’ now, rumours that even he couldn’t close his ears to. And it turned he also couldn’t close his life to either.

It was a dour afternoon while Adrien was practising his piano (there was something kind of nice about the ‘click’ of muscle memory guiding him to the notes before his mind realised). The wind was blowing quite heavily, so he’d shut his window-

So imagine his surprise when suddenly the thing opened from the *outside*, and a miserably wet Superheroine dropped in- no wait.

She was also just flat out miserable to be there, judging from her expression.

“Why hello Ladybug, come in, come in,” Adrien hid his surprise as best he could with , but some inner barb poked through his good sense again (why am I antagonising a superhero?). “Don’t mind the water damage I’m sure I can pay for it.”

Ladybug stared as him like she was facing a needle to the eye.

She said nothing as she pulled out a box like the one from last time.

Something bitter twisted in him.

“I thought we agreed last time-”

“I need Ryuko *and* a black cat.” Ladybug’s words were sharp and to the point, like they hurt her to say.

Adrien looked at the box. “And you want me to be the cat?”

“*No.*” The re was venom there before she composed herself, “But you’re… good with the ring.”

Adrien wasn’t stupid.

This Ryuko was the Dragon Hero, and from the way Ladybug was speaking- she was also Ladybug’s first pick for Black Cat when she didn’t need both seperately.

But there was no way that he was so ‘good with the ring’ after one try spent running from one beating after another. He knew she had other backups as well, but maybe it was the same thing and she needed them with other Miraculouses…

“*Chloe* is out there,” Ladybug seemed to have picked up on his hesitation, and she growled the name. “I know you care about *her*, so just take the ring and get going.”

Adrien opened his mouth to refuse- But again, something in him twisted. Maybe it was some left over feelings for an old friendship he couldn’t remember? Whatever it was, it enough to overpower the feelings of *wrongness* as he stood up to take the box.

“Follow my path out of the garden,” Ladybug’s words were clipped again as she turned, “the cameras won’t see us.”

—

As expected, Ladybug more or less dropped him on the Akuma and left him to absorb the heat.

“Aww, poor little kitty left out in the cold?” The weather-themed Akuma mocked him, “better hold on tight if you don’t want to be blown away!”

No sign of Chloe anywhere, but maybe she’d had the good sense to run while Ladybug left. Unlike some other poor souls.

A supernatural gust of hail struck one of said souls with full force, almost throwing him over a bridge railing before some instinct pushed him to extend his staff for support.

He looked up at the Akuma. A dark dress, purple hair in two large pigtails and an umbrella; something clicked in his head;

“Stormy Weather was it?” Cat Walker looked up at the floating Akuma.

“The one and only,” Stormy confirmed with sadistic glee. “Now, why don’t we see if this little kitty swims like the old one-”

Okay no, Cat Walker had better things to do that to just take beatings today- or any day. There were better ways to waste time; why not try ‘diplomacy’?

“That seems unnecessary,” a perfect model smile crossed Cat Walker’s face.

“Oh, and why’s *that*?” Stormy smirked.

“Because clearly you’re going to win,” Cat Walker sighed with apparently sincere resignation.

The Akuma’s face dropped in surprise, and the model continued on; “anyone can tell where this battle is heading.” He put a hand to his chest, “I’m but a poor novice to this war, and then there’s *you*, well… don’t you think this is a bit unfair?”

Stormy giggled like an idiot; “yes, yes it is!” Fine lines of Lightning flickered into existience around her as she circled in closer to him. They licked the ground and left scorch marks, but Cat Walker’s eyes focused on the umbrella instead while Stormy’s attention was elsewhere. “You’re helpless before me!”

“I have to agree,” Cat Walker mournfully concurred, and as if in deep fear; he flinched away from Stormy Weather, drwaing closer to a stone Pillar like she was a predator he was retreating from. “This is, is, is…”

Stormy’s eyes gleamed with a sense of power over the hero and she advanced closer, “*go on*….”

“A cataclysmic disaster!” Cat Walker threw up his clawed hand in emphasis.

In a second, Stormy realised the ruse and hissed; her eyes darted to his right hand.

And left herself vulnerable to his left. Having floated in close, she barely had time to blink as he lunged forwards with his ringless hand and ripped the umbrella from her grip.

“Wait-”

Chat Noir’s power hadn’t activated, but Cat Walker only took a second to break the umbrella in two under foot. To his pleasure, not only did Stormy’s power vanish, but a butterfly suddenly flew out of the broken implement and the Akuma victim reappeared in human form from a weave of dark magic.

“Where… where am?” The girl blinked in shock as Cat Walker nimbly plucked the Akuma butterfly from the air, “Are you a hero? Where’s Ladybug?”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m just a temp” Cat Walker gave her the same smile that had charmed her a moment ago. “The real heroes should be here any minute.”

—

And I’m just going to leave it here for now. With the core dynamic established and parts of the mystery of Chat Noir’s end implied: the next parts will be covering just how a Black Cat who 'takes things seriously’ would clash with Marinette’s approach.

[worldwithoutmiracles]

there are so many weird things that I’ve gotten better at since learning I have ADHD. like recognizing when I need accommodations is so much easier now, it feels like I unlocked a cheat code. I could have been doing this my whole life, but I almost never did. I think I just always assumed the world was right, and if I struggled it must be my fault? and then I thought the way to fix myself was to really concentrate on how bad I’m doing and try to muscle my way into being perfect by shaming myself and doing everything the hardest way possible. it’s SO stupid.

anyways, I’m at a hotel for a few days and trying to get some work done. I’m in the room, at the desk, with my computer in front of me, but I’m finding it hard to concentrate. I pretty quickly 1) recognized the situation and 2) decided the problem was the atmosphere wasn’t conducive to working. the room is really sterile and boring, so I decided to turn it into something that will stimulate me a little more and feel like places I’ve been able to work before. I made myself a cup of tea, put on a coffee shop playlist, turned on the yellow lamp by the bed and closed the curtains. then I turned the TV to a random station but put it on mute. I sort of artificially created a coffee shop, right here in my room!

this was enough of an atmosphere change that, along with talking to myself out loud and finding a way to sit more comfortably in the chair, I was able to focus on my work for an hour or so.

I dunno. this stuff is probably literally stupid for neurotypical people to read. like, I was uncomfortable so I became more comfortable then felt better. great! most people learn to do that at four years old. but two years ago, at 27, I would have beat myself up for not focusing or crawled into bed and totally zoned out to the TV instead, giving up the day as a bust and feeding into a paralyzing guilt spiral.

it’s been so weird to rediscover who I actually am. it’s so wonderful to see what I’m capable of when I listen to and work with myself against the world, instead of siding with the world against myself every single time.

(not me, lightly crying about writing in a google doc for an hour)

[7000]

I almost finished cleaning my space for the new year, and did my (just about) monthly walkthrough of my memory lane cabinet. There was a booklet an old friend made me and it was full of signatures from people in my life who once knew and loved me. It makes me regret how I’ve spent the past few years thinking I’m all alone, I have such few friends, that I’m simply “antisocial”, but I’ve been realizing in so many ways lately that there is nothing stopping me from reaching out to people now, new ones among old. What stopped me before was the shame I carried for my entire life, rooted in the belief that I wasn’t good enough, too annoying and awkward for people to genuinely want me around.

I’m realizing now how different I am from how I used to be. That old shame is gone. Not that I don’t get embarrassed of myself sometimes, but I refuse to carry any shame with me and into the relationships I want to create with people. All of this change happened once I moved back here and was finally able to sit in my own energy again for the first time, consciously, with the intention to rework my self concept from the ground up, literally all I was willing to focus on.

And it wasn’t until the wedding that I realized how much I had worked through. It’s like I proved it to myself then, that I was in a new stage of my life. Even just 6 months ago, I was so paralyzed in my fear of expression that all human contact, meeting strangers and old friends alike, interacting, the thought of it made me sick and frozen. I would have found some way to escape during the wedding, certainly, and forget dancing. A year ago from today, there is no chance I could have enjoyed myself because I was so trapped in self-delusion. But I did. I enjoyed myself so much, so fully and intensely. I saw so much kindness in people. I want to stay aligned with that feeling, and keep reliving it, not just in the memories but the new experiences I want to create.

I’ve been stalling on reaching out to the childhood friend who made that booklet, and not just her, but another too. I don’t know what I was so afraid of. I wanted to, so badly, for so many years, that for a period of time the nostalgia and desire for the friendships I had would follow me nearly every night to my dreams. It really was all I would dream of. So I’m making it a resolution to reconnect. And make new connections too.

[goblinsofdiscord]

👹 SHADOW WORK 👹 + BONUS ON ENNEAGRAM

written by Larissa

Part 1 ☯ What is Your Shadow Side?

The concept of the “Shadow Self” is a Carl Jung original, although I don’t care much for the background of anything I’m interested in, so that concludes your history lesson. Distilled gold or bust.

The “Shadow” is essentially what we, as humans, deny or reject in ourselves. The “bad” or “good” qualities that we revile or relish. The Shadow can be what doesn’t gain us acceptance, parts of ourselves we were told were nasty, or parts that got us the kind of attention we despise, and so we unceremoniously stuffed them into the Shadow. BUT It’s also what we idealize in others, as if it's something we are unable to access. This process is largely unconscious, as our ego automatically shoves what’s undesirable into the Shadow, and highlights what’s desirable (in whatever frame that manifests for you, personally).

Why would we push traits we admire in others into our shadow? We may have been shamed, humiliated, chastised, or put in other “dangerous” feeling situations as a result of those traits. Like if you have a fear of standing out it’s probably because something negative happened in your past as a result - like a pack of envious girls kicked you out of your friend group or your parent made you feel like shit.

When our shadow is activated by a person or situation, it can show up as “triggers”, bursts of reactivity or projections. We can feel immobilized by terror, envy, shame or anger. It can literally paralyze you, often pulsating out of your chest, rising up to your face in red hot heat… you go into fight or flight. Or sometimes on a lower level, it just shows up as being illogically reactive and hostile or overly annoyed at someone or some situation. But it’s often where our principles, ego and self-righteousness reside. The absolutely non-negotiable terrain that you firmly plant your feet in each and every single day.

You might encounter someone out in the wild, socially, or at work - and they rub you the wrong way. You end up stewing on what a piece of shit they are for hours, and how you can’t believe someone can behave in such an abhorrent way. However, it’s possible they’re simply reflecting your Shadow back at you.

The Shadow is what you deny about yourself, or simply deny yourself, and project onto others. Another way of looking at the Shadow is as your repressed “Id”; the urges, desires and impulses (both libidinal and destructive) that you stifle and deny expression. And the more you repress these urges and desires, the bigger the Shadow gets.

Part 1 ☯ What is Your Shadow Side?

The concept of the “Shadow Self” is a Carl Jung original, although I don’t care much for the background of anything I’m interested in, so that concludes your history lesson. Distilled gold or bust.

The “Shadow” is essentially what we, as humans, deny or reject in ourselves. The “bad” or “good” qualities that we revile or relish. The Shadow can be what doesn’t gain us acceptance, parts of ourselves we were told were nasty, or parts that got us the kind of attention we despise, and so we unceremoniously stuffed them into the Shadow. BUT It’s also what we idealize in others, as if it's something we are unable to access. This process is largely unconscious, as our ego automatically shoves what’s undesirable into the Shadow, and highlights what’s desirable (in whatever frame that manifests for you, personally).

Why would we push traits we admire in others into our shadow? We may have been shamed, humiliated, chastised, or put in other “dangerous” feeling situations as a result of those traits. Like if you have a fear of standing out it’s probably because something negative happened in your past as a result - like a pack of envious girls kicked you out of your friend group or your parent made you feel like shit.

When our shadow is activated by a person or situation, it can show up as “triggers”, bursts of reactivity or projections. We can feel immobilized by terror, envy, shame or anger. It can literally paralyze you, often pulsating out of your chest, rising up to your face in red hot heat… you go into fight or flight. Or sometimes on a lower level, it just shows up as being illogically reactive and hostile or overly annoyed at someone or some situation. But it’s often where our principles, ego and self-righteousness reside. The absolutely non-negotiable terrain that you firmly plant your feet in each and every single day.

You might encounter someone out in the wild, socially, or at work - and they rub you the wrong way. You end up stewing on what a piece of shit they are for hours, and how you can’t believe someone can behave in such an abhorrent way. However, it’s possible they’re simply reflecting your Shadow back at you.

The Shadow is what you deny about yourself, or simply deny yourself, and project onto others. Another way of looking at the Shadow is as your repressed “Id”; the urges, desires and impulses (both libidinal and destructive) that you stifle and deny expression. And the more you repress these urges and desires, the bigger the Shadow gets.

Part 1 ☯ What is Your Shadow Side?

The concept of the “Shadow Self” is a Carl Jung original, although I don’t care much for the background of anything I’m interested in, so that concludes your history lesson. Distilled gold or bust.

The “Shadow” is essentially what we, as humans, deny or reject in ourselves. The “bad” or “good” qualities that we revile or relish. The Shadow can be what doesn’t gain us acceptance, parts of ourselves we were told were nasty, or parts that got us the kind of attention we despise, and so we unceremoniously stuffed them into the Shadow. BUT It’s also what we idealize in others, as if it's something we are unable to access. This process is largely unconscious, as our ego automatically shoves what’s undesirable into the Shadow, and highlights what’s desirable (in whatever frame that manifests for you, personally).

Why would we push traits we admire in others into our shadow? We may have been shamed, humiliated, chastised, or put in other “dangerous” feeling situations as a result of those traits. Like if you have a fear of standing out it’s probably because something negative happened in your past as a result - like a pack of envious girls kicked you out of your friend group or your parent made you feel like shit.

When our shadow is activated by a person or situation, it can show up as “triggers”, bursts of reactivity or projections. We can feel immobilized by terror, envy, shame or anger. It can literally paralyze you, often pulsating out of your chest, rising up to your face in red hot heat… you go into fight or flight. Or sometimes on a lower level, it just shows up as being illogically reactive and hostile or overly annoyed at someone or some situation. But it’s often where our principles, ego and self-righteousness reside. The absolutely non-negotiable terrain that you firmly plant your feet in each and every single day.

You might encounter someone out in the wild, socially, or at work - and they rub you the wrong way. You end up stewing on what a piece of shit they are for hours, and how you can’t believe someone can behave in such an abhorrent way. However, it’s possible they’re simply reflecting your Shadow back at you.

The Shadow is what you deny about yourself, or simply deny yourself, and project onto others. Another way of looking at the Shadow is as your repressed “Id”; the urges, desires and impulses (both libidinal and destructive) that you stifle and deny expression. And the more you repress these urges and desires, the bigger the Shadow gets.

Part 2 ☯ 👹 How Does Our Shadow Affect Our Lives? (a short example)

Imagine, if you will, a little boy named Billy Joe. He grows up as part of the proletariat. His pa, Alvin, works twelve hour days, and doesn’t like his job none but it’s an honest livin’ and he cain’t do nuthin’ to change it. “It’s how it is for us folks.” He gets home and puts his stinking socks up on the rotting ottoman and only interacts with his family insofar as he can bark at them to get him another cold one from the fridge. At dinner time, ma serves up the Honey Boo Boo ‘sketti special or maybe on nights when she’s feeling generous of spirit, boiled wieners with the fancy mustard.

Now there’s an uncle, let’s call him Uncle Rick. He didn’t settle for less like his brother Alvin, and when they are forced to see him each year over Christmas he causes quite a stir. Rick dares to have a “career.” He’s confident. He keeps himself in shape. He’s coiffed. He smells pleasant and doesn’t shrink to fit in with his low-striver siblings or parents. Maybe he has a young, attractive wife. He’s frivolous with his money and thinks nothing of picking decadent, over-priced alcohol for the big torturous Christmas event. His signature move is rolling up late in a flashy new car, while announcing his presence by dramatically wrapping up some deal on his cell phone. And while he might impress Billy Joe, the child also notices the eye rolls, groans and quiet comments from the rest of the family. Uncle Rick is so selfish, braggadocious, a scumbag city slicker.

Depending on Billy Joe’s personality type, or perhaps his age, he might interpret this information to mean that confident, successful men are hateable demons. This is internalized and goes into his Shadow. As he struggles to gain acceptance and love from his bloated alcoholic pa, he might unconsciously repeat these familial patterns - end up in a job he despises, drinking to dull the pain, and hating anyone he sees living their life in a more ostentatious or individualistic way. He may view others' successes through an envious or defeated lens, thinking it’s not possible for “us folks.” Maybe he gets a raise at work but is too embarrassed to share it over one of those Christmas dinners, for fear of rejection from his father. His Shadow keeps him small.

Now, if little Billy Joe is a totally different type of person, he might grow up despising his pa and internalize “working class” people, or viewing people with lower standards of living to be putrid and weak. He may seek to distance himself as much as he can from his family’s image. He now only eats fine, organic food. The mere smell of cheap beer makes him nauseous. Unlike Uncle Rick, BJ’s too ashamed to bring his hot wife to meet his undignified family. In Billy Joe’s Shadow lies the fear of failure, being broke, being seen as a worthless, weiner-eating loser. He sees someone struggling in the cold, shaking a mug for coins, and stares at them derisively for daring to pollute his short walk between Starbucks and the lavish tower he’s a CEO.

Part 3 ☯ 👹 The Shadow, The Ego + Self-Image

The Ego, which is Freud’s concept, is the protective mechanism we utilize to prevent us from experiencing pain, shame, humiliation, danger and any other rotten thing that threatens our self-image – which ironically is what CAUSES us pain, shame and humiliation. The Ego is our identity and where we can be deeply wounded. Much like the Shadow, the Ego’s purpose is to keep us “safe”. However, the rules and limiting beliefs created by the Ego become prison bars as we get older. They limit us from our full potential, prevent us from changing and from being truly self-aware.

The Ego is who you THINK you are. It’s a construct. A self-image. It’s what you tell yourself about yourself in the negative and positive. It’s your IDENTITY. It’s the “you” that you’re conscious of. You’re probably proud of these traits, as it’s the part of you that you feel “safe” or positive with identifying as “you”.. Like I can ask you - describe yourself in a sentence. You might say - Well I’m Suzie, I love kids/kids love me, I love cooking/cookin loves me, I give the best back rubs - oh yeah - and I’m a tenured secretary at Burn the World Acquisitions + Mergers.

THe Shadow is the parts of you that you do *not* identify as you, that you reject or envy. The Shadow is largely unconscious, The Ego is more conscious. It’s what you think you are or need to be in order to survive in this world. The Ego wants you to be what it thinks makes you “safe” - even if that’s not true.

Much like the Shadow, when your Ego boundary is butted up against it can become reactive, hostile and destructive. It’s the piece of you that believes with total certainty that you are a specific way, or you must be a specific way to survive. Anything that threatens that belief or image is “bad” or threatening.

Example - Maybe you have a strong conviction that you are the World’s Sexiest Man Alive. It’s how you define yourself. You oil yourself up with Sandalwood essence and perform extraordinary glute acrobatics in the large ornate mirrors mounted over your bed and on every wall. You are perfection. That’s great that you have that self-belief - it’s positive. But what happens when it’s threatened?

You’re the WSMA and then you meet a man who, somehow, is even sexier and not only that but is younger and richer. That cannot be. Your Ego will seek to crush him - whether it��s by trying to get outside opinions that you are indeed the sexiest one of all, or by pushing him as far out of your field of consciousness as possible. What if you can’t though? What if he gets hired at the same corporate Hellscape as you? Or your wife’s eyes linger a little too long on his biceps and she gets his number for business reasons. You can’t escape it. he becomes the star of The World’s Next Top Sexiest Man Alive. It’s possible murderous delights will dance through your head as you inevitably spiral into self-destruction. Unless, of course, you realize what’s happening and *sparkle emoji* heal and integrate *sparkle emoji*.

To the same token, if your ego is wrapped up in a more “negative” self-image, like say you identify as an unlucky fucker. A sad sack. You’d describe yourself as the World’s Unluckiest Lady Alive. Then when experiences, and information, and opportunities to the contrary appear in your life that you actually you could change, be happy, life could get better for you, you have skills, people like you - then your Ego will actively work to sabotage you. Basically. So if you find yourself in these negative self-image loops - this is why. Because your Ego has positively identified with a “negative self-image” and to think of yourself and believe the opposite for you is true, feels threatening.

👹 What is your Enneagram shadow type? 👹

You have an enneagram type in each center (head, heart, gut) and a wing on each of those types. The wing is the type on either side - so if you’re a 7, you would either be a 7w6 or a 7w8.

These wings create our “shadow” - an aspect of ourselves that we have access to but either reject, abhor or envy in others - because we don’t really see or acknowledge those elements so much in ourselves. So if you’re a type 9 with an 8 wing, you might see other people doing 8-ish behaviors - like being assertive, taking up a lot of space, streamrolling, being controlling - and it might trigger you, upset or annoy you, or you might wish to be more like that and therefore it creates a kind of envy.

The irony is, you do have access to those behaviors, they’re just in your shadow. And we have that in each center. So, if you have a 4w3 in your heart center, even if it’s not your core type, you will have an awareness of what your wing is doing in the heart or “image center”.

4’s are overly self-indulgent and inwardly self-focused and in a constant state of separateness, and often find 3-ish behavior’s of self-promoting, putting themselves out there, networking, social climbing, greasing people’s wheels, adapting to ideals - to be totally grotesque and cringe. Or the 4 heart may envy their shameless ability to do these things as the 4, even if not the core type, so a fix, still has access to it and can behave this way - they just cannot see it in themselves.

And if in your head center, if you have a 6w7, you have “superego” in the head center which is giving you an awareness of rules, morality, doing what’s right, how what you do impacts others or the people you care about, the collective, and unconsciously seeking a kind of baseline consensus or agreement - and because this is also the “fear” center - you are seeking security in your dominant instinct (social, sexual, or self-pres). So when you see 7’s or 7 fixers out there being chaotic and feeling the rules don’t apply to them, just making shit up on the fly, not caring about how what they say or do affects others, it can be both or either triggering/annoying or something you wish you had access to. “If only I could be so confident and careless.” But again, you also have access to that, you just don’t necessarily see it.

So you have a core type, a trifixation/trifix,, and then you have your shadow type… what you loathe, envy, ignore or are annoyed by… can you see your shadow? What do you dislike or like about what you see?

[brittanyautumn333]

I fought a generational curse this year (and won 🏆)

Tw: Addiction/Alcoholism

My entire family are addicts and alcoholics. My biological grandfather died of cirrhosis at 35, while my grandma was pregnant with my mom. He gave me and my mom a wonderful gift of liver disease. 😍🥰 thanks grandpa! His dad before him was a drunk too. My bio father is an addict, and spent 15 years in federal prison for drug and weapons trafficking.

When I got into astrology and saw my chart, I saw my Virgo north node and Pisces south node. My grandma shares this placement too. She’s an opioid addict, and is currently on hospice care due to a stroke that was induced by an overdose. She takes enough fentanyl patches to paralyze a horse. Pisces south node speaks on my life lesson being managing my need to escape. Escapism comes in many forms. Sex, drugs, socializing…just any refusal to sit alone with negative thoughts. A dude I’m (sorta??) talking to has this placement too - but he can’t do drugs, so he absolutely escapes through casual sexual encounters.

What do we hope to escape you may ask? That Virgo north node gives us the drive to help others. The problem is when we take on too much, and feel that saying no is impossible. We set an expectation with the people around us that we WILL always help, so when we set a boundary, we are met with pushback. As naturally helpful souls, it hurts us to see people around us hurt. So we think “well…ok” and the cycle of not being able to say no repeats.

Last year, I met someone who got me into hard drugs. It was a man that I literally had no business canoodling with. My best friends had started pulling away from me prior, and I needed a friend. It was nice when I could go to his place, and we ski ❄️ and talk for hours. It was mostly him talking shit about his ex wife and the women he was trying to date. I had no interest in dating a man in his 40s with a coke problem. I just enjoy feeling helpful, even if that means just listening. So I kept going back, even though we couldn’t even canoodle because he couldn’t get hard 😭😂

I wouldn’t even call it an “addiction”. But I was definitely participating more than I had anticipated. To the point where I started to crave it.

I have so much shame and guilt about me letting it get to that point.

I had a horrible nightmare in January. In it, I was using, then blacked out and woke up behind the wheel of a vehicle that was NOT mine on the wrong side of the highway. I called my best friend in the dream, she didn’t answer. Then, I flashed forward to someone’s house. It was a couple and I was picking up ❄️. All of a sudden, cops pull up outside, and the dude is actually trying to strangle me.

I woke up literally sweating and in tears. I quit completely cold Turkey and flushed a $200 bag down my toilet the moment I woke up. When I have dreams like that, there is a message. Shortly after, I stopped being able to tolerate any alcohol at all.

I think the divine creator gave a wiggle of their finger and said “uhn uhhh”. I’ve got a 4th house stellium, I’m on this EARTH to break these generational curses.

Im so thankful that I was guided out of one.

[nocturne-cloud]

this is literally just me venting to myself.

‐-------------‐-------------‐-------------‐-------------‐-------------‐-----

I can't shake the feeling of anxiety as I watch girls my age getting married and starting their families. It feels like I'm stuck in a world that’s moving on without me. Growing up, all I ever wanted was to be a normal little girl, but when my siblings came along, everything changed. I was pushed aside and expected to give up my childhood, stepping into a role that wasn’t mine. At 12 years old, I was helping to raise them while my dad was absent, lost in his own world, jobless and reckless.

Now, as I see women my age embracing adulthood and starting families, I can’t help but wonder how different my life could have been if I had a loving family. If I had been allowed to experience childhood without the weight of responsibility, I might have grown into a confident woman instead of someone paralyzed by fear. If I had a family that supported and protected me, I wouldn’t have been silenced about the abuse. I wouldn’t have had to live in constant fear of my father’s unpredictable rage, terrified to ask him questions because I never knew how he might react.

The moments when he got angry and used my siblings against me still haunt me more than the physical abuse. I can feel the shame and pain when I think about how he told them they could no longer talk to me while I stood in front of them crying after they heard him hitting me. I was just a kid, left feeling utterly helpless and abandoned. It was as if I was being stripped of my role as their big sister, and that cut deep.

Leaving home at 18 wasn’t a choice; it was a desperate act to protect my mom and my siblings from a man who saw us as nothing more than extensions of his anger. It’s been years, but I still don’t know what a "home" truly feels like. That longing for a safe space, filled with love and warmth, weighs heavily on my heart.

Even now, I find it impossible to make choices about my future. I’m constantly paralyzed by the fear that I won’t have the loving support system that everyone else seems to enjoy. I long for a family filled with laughter—cousins to talk with, family reunions filled with joy—but that all feels so far out of reach. Instead, my reality is marked by isolation and heartbreak. People could see that my dad was a bad man, but they don’t understand the full extent of his cruelty. They could see him lash out in public, but they don’t know how he treated us in private. No one ever stepped in to help us, and the truth is, I felt utterly abandoned.

It’s been a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that I’m still left wondering what my life could have been if I had been given the chance to simply be a normal kid. I want to embrace the future and make my own choices. But eh who knows? Maybe the world has its own plan for me.

[e1evator]

⋆｡° 𖦹 ⋆ ˚ ☾⋆｡°✩ nightly thoughts ⋆｡°

✮ date : Wednesday, 11 October 2023

✮ mood : unhappy!! unhappy! yippee!!

✮ tldr ; and I cannot stress this enough, i am not doing well.

Hii, I’m currently very tempted to stage a reason to go to the ER… I am not doing well and my future is not looking bright <3 Maybe, all I need is a break from the real world? However, I don’t want to be admitted into a psychiatric ward and I know that’s my actual problem.

I have 2 essays that were due last night and submitted neither. Currently, it is still this way, despite that I could have worked on it at any point today. The amount of shame I feel cannot be put into words. I worked all night on them last night but I was not successful at completing them. I completely feel incapable of success in every aspect; why can’t I make it like my peers seem to? Now, it’s night again and I have 2 hours to complete the essays before I have any more points deducted. I am simply unhopeful.

My ADHD paralysis is taking a toll on my performance and all I can do is get more anxious and more paralyzed about the situation. I don’t even hate writing essays and have done some on time. But when I get more than one and they overlap in some way, I can’t decide which one is more important and often choose the one I’m more interested in, instead of the one that is more important towards my grade. After I pass the due date, my motivation plummets even farther because every time I think about it I get such a deep dread and anxiety, completely overwhelmed by shame.

I want to cry out for the accommodations but there’s nothing for ADHD people anymore. Every accommodation has a star and says “*adhd is not a valid diagnosis for this accommodation” and it’s literally things like due date extensions, limited distraction testing, and note taking assistance. Not only am I adhd, but I’m additionally disabled in several other mental and physical ways. But, I have a shiny god star declaring me adhd, so that’s where my accommodations end. I could not possibly need accommodations for my chronic pain and ptsd, it simply must be that classic lazy ol’ adhd trying to procrastinate and sneak it’s way out of another one.

At first, I was hopeful and just found the school ableist; however, I’m starting to think about why there’s no accommodations for me and what if I’m the problem? I shouldn’t need accommodations, I should be up to par like they expect but I’m just not.

My biggest fear is college isn’t for me. Like, what if I’m not succeeding here because I’m not supposed to succeed here. It was never for me to succeed at. What then? What career would I even care about like I do for the pursuit of higher knowledge? I want to be a researcher so bad; Someone always learning. It’s just seeming not to actually be possible; not because I do not wish to continue, but it seems that society does not want me to continue and who am I to say they are wrong?

Anyways, I have 2 hours to complete at least one of these essays before more points are deducted. Love u all, mwah!

✮ night rating: ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

[venusruledmuse]

.

[whentherewerebicycles]

Dr. Daniel Siegel, author of The Mindful Brain and Co-Director of the Mindful Awareness Research Center at UCLA wrote that “[A] crucial feature of implicit memory is that when we do retrieve an element of implicit memory into awareness we do not have the internal sensation that something is being accessed from a memory of the past. We just have the perceptual, emotional, somatosensory, or behavioral response without knowing that these are activations related to something we've experienced before."

In simple terms, implicit memories are memories that exist deep in our minds and can surface without our conscious awareness. An example of an implicit memory at work is our ability to remember how to ride a bike. We don't consciously think about how to do it; this memory is simply in us. Conversely, an example of an explicit memory would be the memory of a parent teaching us to ride the bike, a concrete experience that exists in our minds.

Implicit memories make it possible to experience even a seemingly smooth or pleasant visit home, while unconsciously reconnecting to feelings, thoughts, attitudes and identities we held as children. When we experience implicit memories, we often feel like we are back in the situation we are reminded of, and we innately react as we did in that early situation.

[...] When old feelings like these start to impact our behavior, we are exposed to ways in which we haven't completely grown up or individuated from our parents or other influential adults in our childhoods and the early identities we took on within our families. No matter how mature we feel, memories of our 10-year-old selves can cause us to act like we did when we were 10.

Lisa Firestone, “Why Going Back Home Can Leave Us Feeling Lost”

[stvrchaser]

last night

( pairing ) : five hargreeves x reader

( about ) : five hargreeves does not dance, but he has to make an exception for the prettiest person in the room on his last night on earth, right?

( warnings ) : profanity, typical pre-apocalyptic angst, right person not enough time trope, some jealous five (or may be that’s a bonus. it’s up to you)

( words ) : 2900

( note ) : i never know how to handle the whole 58-year-old in his 13-year-old body scenario, but for the sake of simplicity let’s just say that the reader is also mentally 50 or so who worked for the Commission. they’ve known each other for like a decade and have been working as partners. anything for a dose of typical old couple sweetness ig <3

You’ve never been to a wedding until now. Fifty-something years of living (because you lost track after that, honestly) and not a single chance to watch a bride walk down the aisle in white, her lover at the altar.

Well, you guess you can thank Sloane and Luther for letting you cross that off your pre-apocalyptic bucket list.

It’s a shame, really, the many decades you’ve lived and wasted. There’s not much time to attend weddings in between assassinations for an organization that’s located outside of the timeline. If only you existed outside of it, too.

It’s a weird topic — one you’ve always found difficult to talk about because, realistically speaking, who else can relate to feeling lonely because they spent years serving a time-traveling agency responsible for maintaining the time-space continuum which practically stripped them of all long-term acquaintances?

Well, there might be one person.

Five Hargreeves has always been a tough code to crack. He isn’t unreadable, per se. He’s just incredibly stubborn. You thought, at first, it might have been a recent development. Maybe the bitterness had come with old age. But seeing as his siblings barely bat an eye to his behavior, after seventeen years of being presumed dead, you figure he’s always been like this.

In his defense, you have a few decades’ worth of tolerance for human interaction. Five likes to think that he isn’t a particularly nasty person. He simply hasn’t found more people worth having around for company. Of course, there is one.

You watch him, standing right next to you in a black suit so similar to his Commission attire it gives you a sense of deja vu. Nothing unpleasant, just yearnful of simpler times. Back then, it had just been the two of you against the world – literally, but it had been fun, nonetheless.

Sloane and Luther do the honors of stepping onto the dancefloor first, followed by Diego and Lila, as the song starts playing. 

A couple’s dance in the current state of the universe? Alright, it’s kind of sweet.

“This is officially worse than the apocalypse.” And there he goes, the bright beam of sunshine.

“Right now? Really?” You roll your eyes, disappointed that the moment is ruined. He’s silent for a while, his eyes scanning the room until they land on a bucket of wine and champagne.

“Ah, there we are,” he says to himself. You catch his arm just before he turns away.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I’m getting wasted,” he shrugged off. “Want anything?” You hit his arm.

“You are not getting wasted on your last night alive!” He laughs it off, like he knows something you don’t. You think he’s probably holding onto a monologue about the benefits of intoxication as opposed to sobriety on an instance as stressful as a Kugelblitz. This wouldn’t exactly be the first time.

In truth, you’re not far off. He would, as a matter of fact, much prefer to numb his mind before Hell freezes over. Of course, not that he would actually be there to watch it happen this time. Stil, he fears the permanence of what’s next to come, and he’s paralyzed by the knowledge that he can’t do anything to stop it.

But Y/N is talking to him, trying to get him to gather whatever’s left of his courage and sanity. You were always doing that. Why were you always doing that?

“What else am I supposed to do? Dance?”

You stay silent, just a second or two, which is apparently enough for Five to figure out that dancing is, in fact, exactly what you’re suggesting.

“You’re kidding.” 

“No, no. I’m dead serious.”

“What makes you think I’d want to dance?” It comes out much harsher than he’d intended, and he almost wants to clarify that his question didn’t end in ‘with you’ because he didn’t particularly dislike the scenario if he could enjoy it with you. If only it were under better circumstances.

“You’re a gentleman?”

“We’re too old to be dancing.”

“You’re physically thirteen. Your hip won’t give out if you sway for a few minutes.” He swats your hand away from his arm, his face contorting to a combination of equal exhaustion and exasperation.

His hips might not fail him, but what of the rest of him? Five isn’t sure he can stay upright for too long if the two of you stood any closer together.

“That’s not what I mean. We’re bordering on sixty, Y/N. We have other things to worry about.” 

“No, actually, we don’t. We die tomorrow, and correct me if I’m wrong, but that doesn’t exactly give us enough time to worry about retirement or funeral plans.”

“That’s fair, but dancing?” he quips again, like it’s the most ridiculous idea he’s ever heard of. You have the mind to tell him that you’ve successfully arranged a wedding with a few hour’s notice while the rest of the universe perished. How’s that for ridiculous?

“I’m only trying to keep you from getting drunk and doing anything embarrassing.” This startles Five. He’s blacked out before, sure, but he can remember most of everything when he wakes up. Doesn’t he?

“When have I ever done anything like that?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. There was that one time you got hammered and professed your undying love for me.”

“What?” Now, you see Lila’s point. Five’s a funny guy. Pissing him off is very therapeutic.

“I’m kidding. You just blacked out and kept saying my name in your sleep.”

“I did not!”

“How would you know? You were asleep.”

“I’m still not dancing.” You flash him a mischievous grin.

It makes him nervous. Nothing good – not by his standards, that is – ever comes from that smile. It’s evil and taunting, founded entirely by malicious intent.

“Oh, I get it! You suck at dancing. The Temps Commission’s best assassin has two left feet! Oh, that’s adorable.” He scoffs, like you’ve said something unbelievable. It’s a fair reaction considering… Well, since when has Five Hargreeves been bad at anything?

“I’m not falling for that.” You place a comforting hand on his waist, bringing him closer. He stares but doesn’t try to pry you off. 

He tries not to scream.

“Did you just grab my waist?”

“I’m an affectionate drunk.”

“You’re completely sober.”

“Weddings make me touchy-feely,” you tell him with a grin.

“You can dance with Klaus.” You sigh, withdrawing your arm around him. 

If insulting his dancing skills didn’t work, it was time to get serious.

“There’s no need to deny it. Not everyone can be blessed with talent. It isn’t anything to be ashamed of. There was this one guy that took me dancing in ‘62. He was great, but he kept stepping on my right foot. Sometimes, if I shut my eyes, I can still feel it.”

You make a show of lifting your attire just high enough to reveal your shoes, setting your right foot forward. Five eyes you suspiciously.

You did what in ‘62?

“When did that happen?” He prides himself in not sounding too upset, just enough so he could pass it off as disappointment that you’ve wasted time dawdling as opposed to blinding hatred, if you ask.

“A few months ago. Might have been Christmas… no. It was New Year’s Eve, I’m pretty sure.  You know, before you came knocking on my door in ‘63 to announce the second apocalypse like the four freaking horsemen. You’re lucky Reginald didn’t make you Number Four, honestly.” Your joke misses him completely. You swear he turns green with envy. It’s absolutely thrilling.

“And you just danced with some random guy?” He calms down a little.

“A very generous lover.”

Lover?! he almost says aloud.

“But, alas, we just weren’t meant to be,” you say dramatically, faking a swoon, and staring into space to mock a pitiful look of longing.

You’re not too surprised to find him trying to link your arms together only seconds later.

“What are you doing?” Five drags you to the dancefloor, an arm hooked with yours.

“Giving you a dance that doesn’t end with your feet swollen.”

“Ah, so you’re doing me a favor?”

“Obviously.”

“Five Hargreeves doing something against his will entirely for someone else’s happiness? My, the world really is ending.”

Not just any ‘someone,’ he thinks. Just you.

“Happiness?” he echoes, sounding impressed. “Good to know you think so highly of me.” 

The smug bastard.

“I’m ecstatic! Couldn’t you tell? I’m spending the last dance of my life with a bitter old man simultaneously going through puberty and some male version of menopause.” 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the joy radiating from you. My doing, was it?”

“You’re an ass. You’re terrible company. I should have let the other guy keep his spot as my last dance.”

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to dance with me?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather you step on my foot than crush dreams.”

“Oh, now I’m your ‘dream?’”

“No, moron. I wanted to dance. It was on my bucket-list and everything. You don’t happen to know Tango, do you?”

“You have a bucket list?”

Five looks away, hiding the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. It’s a rare treasure to lure any genuine sign of joy from him that doesn’t come in the form of snark and sarcasm. You suppose you’re lucky enough to have seen it multiple times. You might be the luckiest person in the world for being able to have the real thing, time limit aside.

“Some of us have dreams that don’t include dying from alcohol poisoning.”

“Absolutely,” he brushes aside, “What’s next on the list? Eating fries with ice cream? Staying awake through a movie marathon? What beats ‘dancing with someone who won’t break all ten of my toes?’”

Even as you bicker back and forth, you find your fingers intertwined with his. His other hand rests gently on the small of your back and you bring him close with an arm around his shoulder. It’s a wonder how the two of you fit together so naturally, so seamlessly in spite of the way your words constantly clash. He’s composed entirely of rough edges, jagged stone melding with equally stubborn steel. That’s what the two of you have always been like – a symphony of crescendos set to make the world tremble.

It has always been embedded into your mind that if you were destined to bring the world to ruin, you would do it together. But now the two of you will watch as it falls apart, powerless to the ruination of a life you want to conquer. The universe must think itself hilarious.

“What is it? I can practically hear you thinking.”

“I don’t think telepathy is one of your powers.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. What are you thinking?” His brows furrow with concern and you smile because, not that you’ve necessarily forgotten, but it’s a reminder that he cares. 

“Nothing.” You shake your head, looking a little dazed. ”But don’t you think… Well… We look kind of funny, don’t we?” 

Well, not really. Personally, he thinks you look breathtaking.

“You look terrible. Leave me out of it.” Five smiles. “Honestly, when someone forces you to dance you think they’d at least try not to step on your feet.”

“Oh, Five Hargreeves, you are a man of many, many words. You really know how to flatter a person. Who knew you could be so romantic?” You lift your arm from his shoulder, tousling his perfectly combed hair. He pinches your side in retaliation.

“Hey! Rude!”

“You deserved it.”

“You started it!”

“No, you did. But, alright, I’ll humor you. Why do we look funny?”

“Shit, where should I start? We’re in our late fifties and we look just barely out of middle school.”

“Hm, never would have thought of that.”

“I had to set up a wedding reception in less than a day! Do you know how hard it is to find flowers when the planet is literally falling apart? There is not a single garden within the one-mile radius that’s left around here!”

“I can imagine.” Five is grinning so wide, you’re compelled to act as an extension. It’s like your mouth feels obligated to do the same – to express the utter joy no single person is capable of expressing. 

Five doesn’t understand how he can feel so weightless in spite of everything. With one foot in his grave, how is it possible that he feels so delightfully unburdened?

“And you are laughing at my very visible distress! We’re the last of mankind and we’re dancing in fancy suits and dresses in a creepy, ancient hotel like a couple of teenagers at prom! And you find it funny!”

Oh, of course. He feels delighted because you’re here.

“I think you’re funny.”

“I know, I’m hilarious!” Five shakes his head, clearly amused.

“And to think I was actually worried.”

“About me?”

“Who else?” Your eyes soften, an expression clearly screaming awe exchanging any and all concern. His face contorts, nose scrunching the way it always does when he tries to look irritated. 

He’s not. He’s wonderful.

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever—”

“Don’t ruin it.”

“Don’t act like you’re not enjoying this.”

“Bickering with you? I’d have to be a lunatic to enjoy that.”

“My point still stands, now with supporting evidence you provided.”

“That’s doesn’t—”

“They were your words! You said them yourself, Five, and I know too goddam well you don’t say anything you don’t mean.”

“And you know me so well, don’t you?” It’s a challenge, maybe even an invitation to drive the conversation closer to the flames, but you feel too tired to pull through. Not of him — never of him. Still, there’s something about knowing that what happens tonight is the end-all-be-all. Is this how you want to spend the last moments of your life? Your last moments with Five? You feel the fire extinguish, tucking away the childishness of the interaction. Instead, you say, as genuinely as you can muster:

“Yeah. I like to think so. I would like to, at the very least.” Five catches the change in your tone – the wistful and longing plea. If you know him, he knows you just as well. Because he cares, no matter how badly he wants to believe otherwise. So he understands what you wish for, hears the grief in your voice because the two of you know that with the world ending there’s no time to get to know each other.

There’s no time to get to love each other — not for the numerous flaws you’ve discovered, and certainly not for those left unveiled.

“Fifty-eight years and it just wasn’t enough, was it?” The two of you share a mutual understanding then, exchanged entirely through glittering eyes under dim lights, that the loss is something for the both of you to mourn.

“Guess not. But that’s just another dream to bury, right?” You try to smile. Really, you do. But Five suddenly looks anguished, maybe because you’d been so quick to admit defeat.

“It shouldn’t have to be. Ten years that I wasted — ten years where you were right there, but I couldn’t be bothered to get my shit together. Fuck, how did we get here?”

“Do you think an entire lifetime would have been enough?” you whisper, hoping that the question won’t sound too grim or lacking faith of what you two could have been. The last thing you want is to make him doubt the reality of what you do have.

“Probably not,” he whispers back, “But it still would have been nice to have that with you.” He sounds so despaired you could weep. “I thought I could, you know. When we got back here, I thought we could start over. I thought I could fix things. Seems like I’m always wrong, nowadays.”

“For what it’s worth, you were right about one thing.” Five chokes out a laugh, low and uncertain.

You hate it. 

You want to rid him of doubt and revive the version of him who had been so sure of himself and what the world had to offer. You want the stubborn, unrelenting man with enough willpower to last the both of you for lifetimes.

“I think I’ll need you to remind me when,” he says in a way so devoid of hope that you can hear your heart shatter.

“You were right about you being my dream. You have been… for a long time.”

The dance comes to a halt as Five’s feet remain planted. A handful of emotions flash through his eyes, down the entirety of his face, all far too quickly for you to distinguish. There’s a glimpse of confusion and disbelief, then of something more intense. You’re scared it might be anger or disgust. Or worse, it could be pity.

But then your hands are encased in his, and the gesture is so wonderfully gentle that your anxiety dissipates almost entirely, a fraction only remaining in anticipation for what comes next. You watch as Five battles himself, his grasp tightening with every victory that passes. 

Silently, he allows himself reprieve and braces as his walls come down.

You’re her dream, his own voice reverberates in his mind. You have been, for a long time. For what might as well be the first time, he lets go.

“So have you.”

[lacrimosathedark]

Hey Bat fandom, can we like, stop pushing for BatJokes in mainline comics?

EDIT: DISCLAIMER FOR CLARITY: I am not attempting to criticize people who ship these characters. It is strictly a critique of the concept of a reciprocal romantic relationship between these two characters being canonized and people wanting that specifically. I am not shaming anyone for enjoying or entertaining the idea of this pairing.

Look, I’m far from the last person to say there’s nothing there; I literally have a whole word document dedicated to evidence for the argument that Joker is in love with Batman (which I made out of spite because I mentioned it in passing and my cousin thought I was crazy heck you man I’m right).

And honestly, I love Elseworlds where it could be moderately plausible. The Telltale games, for example, put a truly fascinating spin on their dynamic that makes reciprocation believable, even likely. White Knight does this pretty well too. And Lego Batman makes it fucking adorable.

But here’s the thing, those are Elseworlds. All of them, Joker shows his inherently redeeming qualities. In Telltale he’s basically led astray and you can, in essence save him from becoming a psychotic mass murderer we know the Joker as. In White Knight, he is extremely mentally ill, but is temporarily “cured”, and while still a manipulative bastard, shows a great deal of love and compassion and determination to make things right. These set up Joker to be much more morally gray than he is in most media. Lego Batman is accurate but also cutesy and sanitized, so Joker is very much a precious little bean instead of...y’know...an insane murder clown.

If the Arkham games have one strong point, it’s nailing this relationship. Joker is absolutely in love with and attracted to Batman. And while Bruce is obsessed with Joker to extreme and unhealthy degrees, he feels no affection for him whatsoever. He doesn’t like the Joker.

Which is my point. Joker, while not entirely lacking redeeming qualities, is inherently irredeemable. He’s the definition of a psychotic mass murderer. And everything he’s done to Bruce specifically cannot be ignored.

The biggest things that come to mind are The Killing Joke, A Death in the Family (as well as the N52 shitshow that was Death OF the Family), his BatCat Wedding bullshit, and Joker War. But that’s not even half of the things he’s done to cause him grief.

And look, I’m not saying Bruce doesn’t have a kind of intimate connection with Joker. He most certainly does. But intimate is not inherently loving. Remember, he basically accidentally created Joker when the man tripped or jumped into that vat of acid trying to escape Batman. And Bruce has an extremely severe guilt complex. So Joker is, and always will be, Batman’s responsibility.

Because I cannot see this man loving the guy who paralyzed his almost-daughter, tortured one of his best friends, brutally murdered his son, mind-controlled his eldest son, attacked his entire family, nearly killed his fiancee, and stole pretty much everything from under him while terrorizing his city.

Give them a different history, sure. Find a way to redeem the Joker, even better. I’m a fan of Elseworlds where they can have mutual romantic chemistry.

But it just doesn’t work within main comics. They don’t express mutual interest. And Joker has repeatedly expressed “love” with abuse. It has no potential to be healthy with the canon we currently have.

[qqueenofhades]

Okay. Got some (or many) Tuesday morning thoughts, after a full week of /waves hand/ This.

There’s a certain sort of comment I often see on Twitter/social media in general, usually in response to some kind of obvious climate disaster. An oil tanker catches on fire, or some government orders the clear-cutting of priceless old-growth forest, or something similar. That’s all it takes for the Twitterati to leap in with their pithy one-liners: “good thing I got a paper straw today,” or “good thing I rode my bicycle today” or etc. The underlying implication is that since huge disasters are happening every day-- and that the corporations and conglomerations who cause them do absolutely everything to duck responsibility, “greenwash” their brands, or otherwise self-righteously shovel the onus onto individual people to save the planet -- there’s absolutely no point in doing the small things. Why should I, personally, get a paper straw at Starbucks, if someone’s going to spill millions of gallons of oil into the ocean? It doesn’t matter, we’re all fucked anyway. Or so the simple and seductive logic goes.

Except those comments are starting to drive me crazy, even more than usual, because we’ve all been looking at proof that it fucking matters to do those things. I’m not remotely about to draw a comparison between a Westerner getting a recyclable straw and the hell that the Ukrainians are going through right now, but there’s something to be said about the mindset of the Western (particularly the American) left that needs calling out here, and which is obvious in the way the global public is reacting to the crisis. It’s obvious to a lot of people that the American left has been losing its way for a long time, and is splintering into smaller and smaller camps that mostly spend their time attacking each other, attacking Democratic elected leaders (while often being oddly silent about Republican ones) and otherwise running down every attempt to actually put together a functional coalition, because Can’t You See It’s Not Enough, I Am Too Good For Your Flawed Efforts. Since leftists and liberals are the kind of people who think about the injustices in the world, and usually do care about them, it’s easy to get paralyzed by the number and weight of them, the voracity and violence of the bad actors, and just decide that the solution is to give up, but in a snarky, world-weary way that is guaranteed to get you lots of easy likes and retweets from the echo chamber living in that same mindset. It’s quick validation and it feels good to be justified in your beliefs, so the mindset spreads and reinforces itself. Most people on social media want other people on social media to like them, so they do the same thing. On and on it goes.

Hot take time, but “entities bigger than me are doing bad things and I as one person cannot stop that, so I should just do nothing and shame other people for thinking that doing anything is possible” is the leftist/progressivist version of “any attempt to make me wear a mask or get a vaccine or take responsibility for the safety of others is DESTROYING MUH FREEDOMS!!” Both rely on a cynical underlying message that you, yourself, and you are the only thing that matters in the world, that you are the only thing that could either make a difference or be unforgivably inconvenienced, and is massively, profoundly selfish in a way that we’re literally seeing the real-time disproval of. Before this week, would anyone, anywhere, have laid odds on the Ukrainians lasting even this long against the supposedly invincible Russians? If they just threw up their hands and said, “there’s not enough of us, they’re too powerful, there’s no point doing anything, it doesn’t matter?” would we be in this situation, where it’s been over a week, they’re still valiantly holding out, and the entire world is on their side? I think not.

Instead, they looked at that massive, devouring war machine run by a madman, performed a collective Slavic shrug, and went to work building homemade Molotov cocktails and collecting AK-47s. I’m not glorifying war, and I’m not glorifying their trauma, and I’m not saying that the fanboys who dream of armed uprisings (from whatever side of the political spectrum) are in the right, or any of the usual other disclosures you have to put due to people absolutely determined to read everything in the worst possible light. I’m saying they just fucking decided not to take it and to do something, even if they, personally, had never done it before. And now cracks are appearing all over the seemingly invincible Russian military and Putin regime, the world is heaping the Ukrainians with money and supplies and support and adoration, even the bad actors who are still bad are realizing that it’s better for their popularity to act like they’re on board, and President Zelenskyy is an idolized international superhero (and apparently, heartthrob). No matter what ultimately happens, whether he survives this or God forbid not, that guy is going to have statues put up of him for the rest of time, and it’s because as we have all heard, he (reportedly), when asked if he wanted to get the hell out of Dodge and save himself, a choice he could easily have made, said hell no. The fight is here. I need ammo, not a ride.

Hot take time the second, but being snarky, nihilistic, and hopeless with a lot of other snarky, nihilistic, hopeless people isn’t a substitute for actual, genuine community-building. It’s fun and it gets you validation and it’s easy to say it -- and definitely much easier than actually taking action to change things, since that might demand commitment, dedication, and genuine sacrifice. It’s easy to change the subject and point out all the (very real) bad things the West has done and engage in bad faith and whataboutism and the Oppression Olympics and every other goddamn imaginable deflection, diversion, and cynicism. None of this actually helps. And if that is all you’re doing, maybe think again.

With Biden’s SOTU coming up tonight, I expect there will be the usual avalanche of leftist complaints about things he said, didn’t say, should have said, shouldn’t have said, and so forth. Maybe (and yes, I know, I ask for the moon here) just maybe, the focus should be on upholding the message and pushing harder. The world wants this. The world needs this. If it didn’t want to hear it, there wouldn’t have been such a response in a way that literally nobody expected. It just needed somebody to be the first to push back against the “everything is helpless and there’s no point” narrative and actually. give. a damn. Then Ukraine, with the eyes of the entire world on them due to a unique confluence of historical, political, and cultural circumstances, did exactly that, and boom.

Yet again: this isn’t to make the Ukrainians into a trite moral lesson for the West, or act like their suffering is only meaningful because it’s given such a sharp jolt to everyone else. But conversations are finally being held that have been needed for years, and have been put off for one reason or another (usually greed, self-interest, and cowardice). People are looking at each other, and their own institutions, and their own politicians, and a lot of them are deciding to do something about it, wherever in the world they’re located and whatever it is that they can do. Yes, they’re only individual people doing one thing. But all of a sudden, we have this massive blue-and-yellow-colored tidal wave rising up and fearlessly defying a dictator who is clearly engaged in a desperate last-gasp scramble for ultimate power and might just bring about his own downfall as a result. It’s foolish to act like this isn’t a potentially seismic global turning point, and it’s foolish to snipe at people who see that and are realizing that this is history in the making. Current events are just the history that’s happening now, and which give you, yourself, the person, the chance to decide what you would do when faced with that. Not as a hypothetical. Not as a thought exercise. Now.

These are terrible times beyond a doubt. But there have been terrible times before. Pretty much everyone has been struggling with the agonizing burden of how to be a conscious and compassionate creature in a world that seems laden with endless, pointless, gleeful cruelty. It’s the entire human experience down thousands of years, which is why it’s even more baffling that such large segments of the population have shrugged and gone “nah, no point, me myself and I is the only thing that matters.” This is when you have to look to history, and you have to actually learn from it, and not just the parts that comfort you and confirm your pre-existing beliefs. During the Cold War, people lived with a nuclear shadow over their heads for longer than I’ve been alive. There was the same exact fear, for years and years, that some tiny mistake or miscalculation or misinterpretation might end the world. They made it through then. We can make it through now. We just have to fucking give a damn.

And to the usual Tumblr crowd who likes to throw out the “wow must be nice to be neurotypical” etc: hahahahahhahahahahahhahahahahahhaha. I’m significantly autistic, have had crippling anxiety and depression for my entire life, and have been passively to-more-than-passively suicidal for several extended periods. Believe me, I know the seductive desire to just go to sleep and give up and make the suffering stop. I have wrestled for years about how to deal with the disasters we’re all dealing with now, and what the hell to think about the future, or how to plan for it at all. I still don’t have any concrete answers. I just know that I’m fucking trying, and I no longer have any patience for people who not only deliberately and damagingly refuse to do the same, but urge others to join them.

The end.

P.S. If you like this post, don’t just like it, reblog it. This isn’t the usual “reblog or you’re a bad person” Tumblr guilt trip. You don’t have to do a damn thing. It’s your blog and it’s your choice. But if you think the message is worth talking about, SAY SO. I guarantee you’ll find that a lot of other people feel the same. Just because social media has the herd mentality where you want to look good and fit in with what the popular kids are saying, just like high school, doesn’t mean that you have to stay in your silo and feel ashamed of saying what you think. The people who would shame you for it are not remotely worth your time.

[satansaidmyturnintheh3llscape]

Everything Right/Wrong with Ninjago “Rise of the Serpentine” E5: Can of Worms

I really wish we got to see more of Lloyd and the ninja prior to the Green Ninja reveal :(. Also, this contains a reference that only a small fraction of people will likely understand fully, but I couldn’t stop myself. DISCLAIMERS: Show owned by LEGO. This is not a professional review/critique - it’s primarily intended for comedy.

Comment/reblog and follow for more! Read below the cut!

- Theme ✅

- Lloyd can whistle, and regularly whistles his way around the Bounty. I don’t know why this is a win, but it is ✅

- At first this was gonna be a sin for having the audacity to name a video game something as stupid and obvious as, “citar legend,” but now it’s a win for my phone for repeatedly correcting it to “cig@r legend” every time I tried to type it out ✅

- Never forget that in a matter of what must’ve been hours, Lloyd managed to not only beat Kai at “his game,” but managed to top his own high score like 4 times ✅

- “…later bro” ✅

- Why does Jay do nothing and just let the sparring bot attack him? Couldn’t he just Spinjitzu his way out of this or something? ❌

- Also, what did Lloyd do to the sparring bot? Either he genuinely has knowledge of how to tinker with it and purposefully made it go haywire, or he just beat it a couple times with a wrench and hoped it would attack Jay anyway. Either option is worth a win ✅

- At first I thought he was waving, but based on his hand placements, I think Lloyd is saluting the ninja as he walks away from them?? ✅

- I don’t know who the ninja are yelling at right now, but they’re not even looking at each other ❌

- “How am I supposed to strike fear in this? It’s pink!” Zane finally learned about gender roles. Is this character development, or character regression? ❌

- I love that before Wu opens the door you can see Lloyd’s silhouette just standing there waiting… menacingly ✅

- “I got first dibs on-“ Cole threatens to beat an 8 year old for adding spice to his soup ❌

- “Why can’t you teach us to paralyze a man with one finger? Or find out if a man is lying by the twitch of his nose?” “Because not all lessons are about fighting!” Maybe not, but Jay’s ideas sound a h*ll of a lot more useful considering what they do everyday ❌

- “And I misplaced my lesson book.” Wu loses his lesson book and then suddenly forgets everything he’s ever known about this ancient craft he’s been practicing for literal centuries ❌

- How sound-proofed are those doors that they completely block out Lloyd’s voice when Cole closes them?? ❌

- “… live with us, but my sister??” Kai wants his baby sister to live alone in a blacksmith shop just because she isn’t a ninja ❌

- “But those tombs could be anywhere!” Shame we don’t have someone here who literally helped to imprison the serpentine in the first place, isn’t it? ❌

- The tombs are BARELY in line with that symbol. If the writers wanted to make this make sense, they easily could’ve just gone with a less complicated symbol. I really don’t know what the point of this was ❌

- “Light as a feather, pinky” ✅

- Btw, Glacier fans, how many times have you rewatched this scene?

- I was gonna add a sin for the Mailman because why was he delivering mail to the Constrictai tomb, but at this point I’m just gonna say he’s omnipotent or something and move on.

- “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that” It didn’t? The frog was standing there the whole time, Fire Cracker ❌

- “No, I’m the real jay!” Call me crazy, but this was actually really good set up for Kai’s venomari-induced vision to be a million Jays attacking him and him struggling to figure out which one was the real one. But sure, elves and gingerbread people work too, I guess

- “I’ve never fought little people before!” You’ve fought Lloyd, isn’t that close enough?

- Cool save but what was Nya’s dart supposed to do? If it was a tranquilizer it wasn’t very effective ❌

- Detail of Samurai X wearing Nya’s bracelet ✅

- But also, how do none of the ninja notice that they’re wearing Nya’s bracelet?? ❌

- We have dr*nk Adora, sick Luz, Marky Wu, AND thawed-out Sprig, but stoned Kai will always be the OG ✅

- Jay spills his drink all over the table and makes no effort to clean it up ❌

- “It’s a can of worms I don’t wanna see open.” Line exists solely for the purpose of claiming that the title of the episode makes sense… which it doesn’t, but the writers were short on time and literally couldn’t think of anything else so it’s what we’re stuck with ❌

- “Don’t worry, it’ll ware off soon.” The little wink Jay does at the end>>>>>✅

- Also, plasma shippers, how many times have you rewatched this scene?

- Kai screaming in this clip will never not be hilarious ✅

- Why does Pythor have such a hard time uniting the tribes in these next few episodes? I know they were supposedly at war, but it couldn’t have been that bad of one if there were casual friendships between them like Skales and the Fangpyre ❌

- “Friends, enemies, and enemies who pretend to be friends” Pythor definitely has a better public speaking grade than I do ✅

- “That’s a lot of snakes…” Actually, that’s a frighteningly low amount of snakes considering these tribes are supposed to make up an entire race of people ❌

- So do the serpentine bond over r@cist jokes or…?

- ^ “What’s going on? Why am I losing them?!” I don’t know, Pythor, but maybe you should ask the brightly colored ninja hanging from ropes in midair where everyone can and should see them what they think. They look like they could shed some light on the situation ❌

- The serpentine were somehow harder to defeat and escape from when we were just dealing with one tribe at a time ❌

- Jay dangling off the bike ✅

- In Tournament of Elements, you can actually see that Chen has Zane’s pink suit, which implies that Lloyd sold it or something and just found a new one here ✅

- How did Lloyd manage to rig the fridge to do this???? Whether you want to admit it or not, kid Lloyd had a braincell that everyone likes to ignore ✅

- The episode moral was supposed to be that rumors are destructive, but it actually features the heroes weaponizing them against their enemies. So, always use destructive means to achieve your goals because they’ll justify each other eventually, kids! ✅

Sentence: Lloyd’s hidden braincell

[idy-ll-ique]

Beach Day.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Mutual Pining

Warnings: none

Requested: nope

Summary: White clothing gets transparent in water... poor Y/N doesn't know that.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! This is kinda crack fic + fluff lmao ok enjoy!

---

Ah, what a perfect day to be on a beach.

Bucky smiled softly as he sipped on his beer, the sunshine and the sound of flowing water doing wonders for his mood. The Avengers had taken a mini-vacation of sorts, opting to spend a weekend by the seaside. A trip sponsored by Tony Stark. It was a shame Natasha and Wanda couldn't join in, they had a mission to go to. Y/N was the most upset.

"Don't leave me with so much testosterone, I will die," she had whined at the time which made everyone laugh. Currently, he was sitting on a beach lounge chair alongside Steve, Sam, Tony, Thor, Loki and Clint. Y/N was inside still, changing, he guessed. "Guys!" At the feminine voice, he turned and nearly choked on his drink. "Whoa."

"Looking good, Y/L/N," Tony whistled shamelessly and Y/N blushed, the colour spreading down her body. She was dressed in a white bikini that she had purchased for the trip; it looked really good on her. "Thank you, Stark," she quipped back before heading towards the waters. Bucky blinked. Surely she wasn't going into the water wearing that…

"Y/N?"

She turned. "What?" Sam and Clint shared looks. "You going for a swim?" Sam asked and she nodded, a bright smile lifting her face. "It's been ages since I last swam!" Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Are you sure you want to swim wearing that?" he groaned tiredly, causing Y/N to blink. "It's… a bikini, Tony, that's the whole point," she spoke slowly.

The 7 men glanced at each other. "Okay, then, you do you," Tony spoke and she left, stepping into the water. "If you don't date her I will, Barnes, consider this a warning," Clint breathed out once she was out of earshot. "You are married, Barton," Bucky rolled his eyes. "That's why I said it is a warning," Clint snapped back.

"I— I don't know how to ask her," Bucky admitted, playing with the bottle of beer in his hands. "Just ask her! What's the worst that could happen? Knowing Y/N— what a sweet little angel— she'll probably lay you down gently." Bucky groaned as Steve clamped a hand over Tony's mouth, shutting him. "Stop making it worse!" Tony pushed the hand away.

"Do you really think she's going to reject me?" All of them turned to Y/N, who hadn't strayed far from the group. She was alone, flinging the water here and there, laughing to herself. That warmed their hearts, Y/N was really sunshine in a bottle. "Any girl would be a fool," Sam hyped him, raising a bottle in mock toast. Bucky gave him a half-smile.

All of a sudden, they heard a squeal coming from Y/N. Their heads whipped towards her and saw her talking to some guy. Well, more like him trying to ask her out while she said no. Apparently, he wasn't listening. "Hey, asshole! Away from her!" Tony yelled obnoxiously and Bucky winced when the two people looked over. Great, she's gonna be mad at us for creating a scene.

The guy, recognizing the Avengers, fled. Y/N turned to Tony. "Thanks!" she called out before continuing her shenanigans. "The nerve of some people," Steve huffed, Loki and Thor nodding in agreement. Bucky, meanwhile, continued staring at her, shocked. She wasn't mad? Oh well, that's… nice. Suddenly, she looked up, right at him.

Freezing for a second, he managed an awkward smile and waved at her. She waved back before waving her arm, asking him to join her in the water. He gently shook his head and pointed to his arm, smiling sheepishly. Understanding his shyness, Y/N nodded and grinned at him before she started with her first lap of swimming.

"You should've gone."

"Shut up."

As Y/N swam around in the cool waters, she thought back to her conversation with the guys. Why were they so reluctant to let her swim? And whatever did Tony mean by wearing that? It was a nice bikini; a bit skimpy, sure, but it looked nice on her. So what was his problem? Shaking her head, she instead thought about Bucky. Bucky Barnes, the White Wolf, the man she wanted to go on a date with…

He had many names. Y/N had had a crush on Bucky ever since she joined the Avengers, not knowing that Bucky reflected her feelings. After a few laps, Y/N decided the water was getting too cold and she needed to step out. So she started walking towards the beach again, the water level going from her chest, to her stomach, to her hips and eventually her ankles as her feet hit dry sand.

"Y/N!"

At the loud and sharp yell she froze, her eyes darting to where her friends were seated, paralyzed. They were all staring at her with mostly the same expressions; eyes wide with mortification, jaws dropped. Then she saw Steve running towards her. She blinked at him as he wrapped a towel around her, easily picking up the Y/N burrito and walking towards the others.

"Y/N, what the fuck was that?"

Steve set her down on her feet. "What did I do?" she asked meekly, moving to drop the towel but 7 voices shouted out in unison, "No!" She pulled the towel on tighter and shook her head, going inside her room. Bucky breathed out a sigh, quickly moving to hide his boner with the bottle of beer he was holding. "She is literally so—"

"Does she not know that—"

"She probably doesn't—"

That white clothes get transparent in water.

When she had stepped out of the water, her bikini was clinging to her body but what caught his, or rather everyone's attention was that her nipples were completely on display, the perked buds clear as day through the top. No wonder all of them reacted the way they did. They stared at each other, the silence getting uncomfortable.

"Oh, man…" Tony whistled finally, running a hand through his hair. "Think about something else," Steve suggested but try as he might, he couldn't get the image of her body out of his mind. Soon, conversation started floating between them again but Bucky kept quiet, staring at the sea, lost in thoughts. "Hey guys, have you seen my fanny pack anywhere?"

Bucky looked up and saw her standing there with her hands on her hips, looking at them with an innocent expression on her face. Her towel was long gone, she was still in the bikini and God, it's still wet, look away Bucky, look away— "Y/N, what the hell, go inside! We'll find it later, just— just go inside," Clint chided and she frowned but stormed off.

Bucky, not being able to bear the look on her face, followed her. The rest of them shrugged and decided not to disturb the two for a few hours. Bucky knocked on the door to her room and, finding out it was open, nudged it apart. He peeked into the room to make sure she was not changing and found her sitting on the bed. "Y/N?" She sniffled and he walked inside, closing the door behind him.

"Y/N, don't cry, come on…"

She was still in that stupid bikini. Noticing the towel from earlier draped over the back of a chair, he picked it up and walked to her, putting it around her. "Why are they being rude?" she whispered and Bucky sighed, putting an arm around her. He gently squeezed. "They were not being rude, they were being overprotective." She didn't look convinced.

"Do I not look good?" He sighed again. "You do look good, it's just… Y/N, you really don't know, do you?" She blinked at him, confused. "What do I not know?" He went pink. "White— white clothing becomes transparent in water and, uh— uh… your, um… nipples were… uhm… very visible through the top," he stammered and a look of understanding crossed her face.

Then she blushed furiously. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't know—" He shook his head. "It's fine. Maybe just wear a t-shirt before coming out again, okay?" She nodded before grabbing a random t-shirt off the bed; all the guys, before going out to the beach, had left a t-shirt each in Y/N's room, hoping for a quick change since her room was the closest.

Thinking it was her t-shirt, she stood up and dropped the towel. The t-shirt went down to her knees and her head tilted to the side; when did her shirt become so long? When she glanced at Bucky, he was smiling at her, amusement shining in his eyes. "What?" she asked as one of the sleeves dropped to her elbow, the neckline plunging in that direction.

One bikini strap showed on the shoulder. "You look good in my t-shirt, doll." A deep blush spread across her face. She moved to take it off but he stopped her. "Keep it on, it looks good on you. Hell, keep it forever." His words… "Buck, you need this—" "Trust me, I don't. How about this, when we go home, you raid my wardrobe because holy hell, my stuff looks good on you."

Y/N flushed deeper. Why was he acting all flirtatious all of a sudden? "I'm not raiding your whole wardrobe, Bucky." He frowned momentarily. "I thought girlfriends raided their boyfriends' wardrobes all the time." Her eyes snapped up and met his; he held a confident smirk on his face this time. "Wait… Barnes, are you asking me out?" He nodded and she squealed.

"Yes!" She rushed forward and jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. He did not hesitate to kiss her, his hands landing on her butt as he caressed the soft flesh. Y/N's hands ended up in his hair, combing through the long locks. "I do have some rules, baby," he whispered as he led her to the bed, setting her down. He climbed on top of her and smirked again.

"What?"

"Number one: I'm throwing that fucking bikini away."

"Buck, why?!"

"No white bikinis allowed because I don't want people staring at what's mine."

"Ugh, deal."

"Good. Now, where was I? Oh yes… you and I are gonna have some fun before we go out now, okay? Be quiet for me…"

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A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!