#SOMETHING SOMETHING TRUTH. OR THE LACK OF IT.

[alm0ndm1lk1]

Truth or Dare

Jinx x F! Reader

Warning: NSFW Minor DNI, Smoking, Freaky deaky stuff, Truth or Dare

Summary: You and Jinx are having a sleepover while there has been tension building between you both with friendly game of Truth or Dare.

Author note: This was heavily proofread so I hope you all enjoy ⭐️ #RunningoffofRedbulls

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Can you Roll?” You asked Jinx, showing her the bag of “goodies” you received from Ekko.

“Yea, I can. Just go to my desk and grab my kit,” She tells you. You and Jinx planned to have a sleepover over at Jinx’s place. It’s turned into a normal routine between the two of you since Jinx enjoys your presence and vice versa. Isha is over at Sevika’s for the night so you and Jinx have the place to themselves - after a while of not having one on one time.

As you are searching Jinx’s desk, you couldn’t find her kit, which had you checking inside each of her drawers. In the second drawer, you open you find something quite… interesting.

“Jinx, can you come over here,” You choke out. Jinx walks over and find you looking at her blue and black strap designed with light blue accents. “Shit, I should’ve told you my kit’s in the third drawer,” She chuckled at your embarrassed expression.

Jinx moves over your body and opens the third drawer open where she pulls out her metal kit that has her rolling paper and tray, a lighter, and a grinder. “Is everything okay toots?” She whispers in your ear, moving her hand to your waist as she rest her head on your shoulder. Your breath hitches from her cold hands, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just never knew you owned one of those,” You manage to get out, “So spill. Who is it for?”

Jinx moves from behind you sliding her kit in her hand as she hums, “Dunno. Just decided to have it, that’s it. Or it might be for someone who commissioned me. You think I’m some pervert?” She then raises her eyebrow, “…or do you want me to test it out on you?” She says in a teasing tone.

You quickly respond, “Hmm I don’t know, what if you had Violet test it with Caitlyn?” The air between you two goes dead silent for a beat, and Jinx’s face twitches slightly—caught off guard by your complete lack of awareness.

Her grin falls as she processes what you just said, and then, with a laugh that feels more like a snort, she opens her rolling kit while in mock exasperation. "Oh, sweetie," she says, her voice dripping with playful amusement, "I was totally not talking about that." She gives you a sideways glance, her smile returning, but now there’s a glimmer of something more devilish in her eyes.

You stare at her, blinking in confusion, and she can’t help but laugh again.

“Alright, alright, God you are so innocent when you wanna be,” she finally says. She starts rolling the blunt shaking her head. “I’ll just… leave it to your wild imagination.”

You change the conversation and make plans about later with Jinx until she finishes rolling the blunt and glances up at you, her blue eyes glinting with mischief. "All done," she says, holding the freshly rolled blunt up between her fingers. “You can have the first hit since you rolled it,” You say, with a dismissive hand gesture.

Without missing a beat, Jinx pops the blunt into her mouth, pulls out her lighter, and with a flick she ignites the end. She takes a long drag, her chest rising as she inhales deeply, savoring the taste. After a moment, she exhales a thick plume of smoke and then looks at you with a mischievous grin.

"Come over here, toots," she says, her voice low.

You blink, not thinking twice, and crawl over to where Jinx is lounging on the couch. Your movements are casual, but to Jinx, they feel like slow, deliberate torture. She watches you with narrowed eyes, a spark of something dangerous flickering in her gaze. “How does she not know?” Jinx thinks to herself, a sense of confusion in her chest. She's been around you enough to know how comfortable you are with her—how you’ve never judged her, always accepting her for who she really is.

Bur despite all that, Jinx finds herself fighting the urge to close the distance between you two in a way that goes beyond friendly banter. You don’t even realize how you drive her mad. “How can she be so oblivious?” she thinks with a mix of frustration and desire. She’s always been protective of you, but it goes beyond just friendship. She’d never admit it out loud, but the way you look at her—so trusting, so pure. You’re so precious to her, and the idea of anyone harming you—of anyone taking advantage of that innocence— she would destroy anyone who dared hurt you, without a second thought.

Jinx’s chest tightens as she watches you settle closer to her, unaware of the storm swirling inside her. You’ve shown her kindness when others only saw her chaos, and she wants to keep you safe from all the bad people in the world who would take advantage of your trusting nature. She wishes she could protect you from everything, from all the hurt and heartbreak that life could throw your way. And, deep down, she knows she’d do whatever it takes to keep you from ever feeling that pain.

Jinx breaks out of her thoughts when she hears you whining looking up at her, “Jinx, can I take a hit?” Your lips are so pouty and cheeks are so flushed, Jinx just wants to have fun with you a bit. “Hmm, I don’t know if I want to share.”

You furrow your eyebrows, hopping in her lap and straddling her thigh— you bury your face into her shoulder and cry into her. “I was the one who got these. You’re so unfair,” You protest as Jinx takes another puff, exhaling softly. “I’m not sure you deserve it… convince me.”

You look down and grip her shoulders slowly bouncing on her thigh, “Please Jinx, I will make it up to you and we can do whatever you want for the rest of the night,” Your voice dips slightly, and though you might not realize it, the quiet sincerity behind your words only adds to the tension between you two. Jinx feels her pulse quicken, but she hides it behind a playful smirk. “Okay fine, here.” She pops the blunt into your mouth and you take a hit, blowing out a big ball of smoke. You hug Jinx, saying happily, “Thank youuu!”

Time passes and you both of y’all take hits off the blunt until it was all gone. Afterwards, you both decided to take your showers and put on your pajamas. Jinx has on a white tank top with her Cookie Monster pajama pants, while you had on a baby pink and black nightgown that cupped your soft breast as it fell to your upper thigh.

Jinx is sitting on the couch, her eyes following you as you move around the room. The moment you step into view, she takes her time looking you up and down. Her gaze lingers longer than usual, her lips curling into a playful smirk. "Hmm, cute," she murmurs, her voice low, but playful. She walks over to you and gently cups your chin in her hand, her touch soft but sending a spark of electricity through you. There’s a shift in the air, and Jinx seems to sense it, her eyes darkening slightly as her fingers traces your jaw.

She giggles, teasing, "So," she starts, her voice low, “what was that promise you were going to make up to me?” Her eyebrow raises, her playful tone mixing with something more calculating as she takes a small step closer.

You, completely oblivious to the shift in atmosphere, smile brightly, hopping up in excitement. “Oh, I’m so glad you asked!” You rush to the kitchen, “I got your favorite!” you call out over your shoulder, grabbing the tub of vanilla ice cream from the freezer and rushing back to the counter. You grab the toppings from your bag — whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and a jar of cherries. You're not aware of how Jinx's eyes never leaving you as you move.

You assemble the perfect bowl—two scoops of vanilla ice cream, topped with a mountain of whipped cream, a drizzle of chocolate syrup, and a cherry on top. You carry the bowl to the couch, setting it down between you both. You hand Jinx a spoon, smiling brightly. “Here, hope you enjoy!”

Jinx takes the spoon, and as she digs into the ice cream, she savors the flavor slowly, clearly enjoying it more than she lets on. She nods approvingly, but there’s a certain glint in her eyes that you don’t pick up on. “This is so delicious, sweetness,” she chirps, her voice teasing but also carrying a note of something else. You don’t notice the way she says sweetness, how the word rolls off her tongue, hinting at something deeper.

As you both continue eating, the ice cream quickly disappearing, Jinx suddenly breaks the silence. Her voice drops a little, but it’s still playful. “Do you wanna play a game?” she asks, her words laced with a subtle tension that you completely miss.

You hum in response, turning to her with a smile. “Sure, what are we playing?”

Jinx scoots closer, her body language shifting. She leans in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “Truth or Dare.” Her voice is thick with mischief, but your brain processes it as nothing more than the next fun game for the night. You blink, tilting your head, completely unaware of the weight behind her words. “Oh, okay! Sounds fun,” you say, your tone bright and excited.

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

At first, the game seemed harmless—questions like “Tell an embarrassing story,” “Have you ever broken a law?”, and “Send a random person a crazy text.” But as the night wore on, the questions grew more personal, more daring. “What’s your non-sexual turn on?” “Give me a hickey”, “Show me your favorite sex position.”

Now here you are on top of Jinx, and your head’s dizzy. Your whole body is feeling hot as you’re whining in Jinx’s lap. Jinx is groaning under you, her hand traveling up and gripping your hip to move your body against her clothed crotch. She rasps in your ear, “I would’ve never knew someone this innocent would do this with other girls... you dirty girl.” She quickly travels her hand under your nightgown to your ass, giving it a light smack and making you silently squeal into her chest. “How many girls had you do this to them? Huh? I bet there are many people that want a piece of you. You’re so cute, so innocent, ‘m almost sure I can make you do whatever I want because deep down you will chase that pleasure like a needy slut.”

You cry into Jinx’s shoulder gripping onto her blue locks for dear life, grinding your body harder and faster against Jinx. You look up to Jinx, cupping her face, looking deep into her eyes. Both of your lips are inches apart from each other. Before you can kiss her, Jinx puts her pink fingernail against your plump lips, “Nuh-uh toots.. your time is up.” She pats the side of your thigh signaling you to get off. You move off of Jinx, crawling back to your spot across from her while Jinx flashes a look at your ass. You sit in your spot looking down, while your hands trap between your legs to lessen the dull hum you’re feeling between your thighs.

“Dare,” Jinx practically purrs, giving you a devilish smile. You meekly ask, “Kiss me.”Jinx moves over to you, holding your chin in her hand as she caresses your soft skin. Her thumb toys with your bottom lip, slowly moving her lips to yours teasingly. “Please Jinx…” You whine softly, and Jinx closes the gap between you both, giving you a sweet but hungry kiss. You moan softly into the kiss. You needed her so bad.

Jinx pushes you back on the couch, needing to feel more of you as her mouth travels down your neck, creating more marks along with the ones she decorated your neck with before. Suddenly, she stops and moves back to her spot. Flashing you a sickly sweet grin, she looks at you. “So, what’ll it be, Truth or Dare?” At this point, you were so desperate and wanted to feel her more. You didn’t even think about what possible outcome could come out— “Dare,” You answered, absolutely certain with your choice.

“Grab the whipped cream from the fridge and hand it to me.” You scurried over to the fridge, grabbing the whipped cream… you had no clue what she was planning in that head of hers. That was one thing about Jinx, you never knew her next move. You walk over to her, waiting for what scheme she had planned. “Take off your nightgown but keep your panties on,” she demands. You slide the thin straps of the shoulder of your nightgown, it falling to the floor. The cold air hits your skin and as you stand in front of her, you can’t help but feel vulnerable especially since you’re almost nude while she is still fully clothed. Jinx guides you to lay down back flat on the cushion of the couch. “W-What are you going to do?” You manage to choke out. Jinx hums, looking down at your body, “Oh, you’ll see.” She darkly chuckles against you.

Jinx puts the nozzle of the whipped cream against your nipples, making you shudder from the cold hard plastic against your sensitive chest. She presses down and the white cream spreads on your breasts. You whine from the new sensation as the sweet treat is making a mess on your chest, down the valley between your breasts and onto your stomach. Once she finishes her masterpiece, she takes a minute to take It in… you looked so delicious she had to take a mental photograph to refer back to. “I wish you could see yourself right now. Can’t even believe I’m seeing this right now,” She giggles and dips her head down to your chest and starts attacking your nipple, taking it into her mouth. You shriek from the feeling of her tongue and her sucking hard on your poor chest. “J-Jinx please be gentl- ah!” You cry out loudly. Jinx completely ignores your request, going to the other side giving the same treatment. Her free hand grips your chest, teasing and pinching your nipple.

You feel your bottom half of your body tingle and you didn’t know what to do. All you can do is babble and moan from her mouth latching onto your over-sensitive chest. Once Jinx is finished with you, she lifts you up and all you both can do is giggle. “Sounds like you had a lot of fun,” She teases you. Your head is so hazy from the pleasure. To tease her back, you pick up her sticky hand and put her middle and ring finger in your mouth, sucking the lingering whipped cream off. All Jinx could do was just look at you hungrily as she spreads her slender fingers in your mouth, as your tongue is dancing between them, slightly gagging on her digits. You take your mouth off her fingers as a string of saliva comes off her fingers and onto your chin.

You sigh softly, looking into her eyes with nothing but desire. Jinx then takes a deep breath, “You know what… fuck it.” That’s all she says. She grips your hand and drags you into her room, closing the door for whatever the night has in store. You both knew for sure, you both will take your time with each other.

˚₊‧ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Part 2 coming soon !! Hope you enjoyed

- Angel 💋

[popculturealchemy]

giant masses

black spears

.

climbed your everest

sherpa, my brain

sherpa, hiding red flags

sherpa, casting shadow on your flaws

highlighting your strength

.

uncanny valley.

you think you're deep

mariana trench vibes coming from your end

Interesting at first

submarines sinking

you sinking them

shallowness,

I was unprepared for the kiddie pool of your truth

.

this shouldn't feel like myst

a complicated turn based point and click wtf nightmare game.

puzzles without answers

you're just fucking vague.

not the same

no solutions; = solution

.

rather be like nintendogs

rubbing my sylus on your bottom screen

doggy style multiplayer coop mission

finding that back and forth frequency we need

.

can't find you now

not sure sure if you had one

someone else got it.

new orbit or something

.

shedding you like leaves

hurting at first

nourishing my roots

creating ecology at my feet.

belonging to the streets

putting things where they go when they go there

.

.

someothing about you died

and you never told me

.

you felt it change

I'm noticing

I'm waiting

el niño

hurricane on the east coast of your phase

waxing and waning

.

no explanation

feeling dark, distance. erasure.

your face is stuck in my vision

.

no explaination needed,

your face is terrifying though

thought I'd give you a warning

.

dropped like a hot stone

falling like a leaf

.

time healing wound of separation

no one at fault

just hurting, foggy

discrete depression all day now

till this things fades

.

oh yeah. that persons not here no more

.

they are but, just different or something

black spear

red rover sent right over

hot girl summer

hot girl stone

warming my bed, thank you

leaves feeling cold now.

.

didn't break my chain.

you found my weak links

actually, I told you

you pulled on them right away

Information used on me

supposed to be used to protect me

complete. utter. lack. of. partnership. skills.

seeing an opening and taking it

full force

my weak weakspot becomes a fulcrum

a toggle switch

trigger my seizures

howd you get in here weirdo

you did this to your grandma too.

i'm so glad you accidentally told me that

feeling protected and hurt by luck

four leaf clover

knowing how to use it

.

not sure what else to say

bon voyage

no hard feelings but feeling only hard feelings

.

focusing on something else now

blurry feeling.

snuffed by the spear

.

feeling like a good year thats mine today

leaves falling

spears forming

nests revealed

needing exploring

.

new changes for new nests

less pesky birds

birds that don't peck

.

ctrl alt del this feeling

rebooting

trying off and on again.

living in the present..

eventually getting there

a lifelong test

.

one moment eclipsing the rest

break up

light shining behind this black prism

waiting to crest

already cresting

glass 1% full today

.

get back together?

.

surely, you jest.

.

I don't want to friends.

Neither did you.

It was supposed us

weird labels

archaic words

wanting to feel special

feeling reductive

reductive popculture moment in your mind.

doing "the thing."

.

enemies feels too personal.

memory halflife

redflags in view now

unraveling.

like a bathbomb fractal galaxy bath

poising the well

my water

black spear to your memory

you're poisoning me know

you're think you're smart because your friends smile while you're talking

dollar store connection

Impetus/ response

.

and now your falling from my memory

.

letting you fall gracefully is my gift to you

and it keeps on giving

enjoy the worms

fly high

.

focusing on my 1% water and black spear

old farmer painting

feeling rugged and dragged around by horses

.

cruel tricks

.

black spear not cruelty

.

third party I need for protection

people like you exist

I know that know

.

Ted talk running late

pixel's remembering my thoughts

you're a leaf now

I'm a tree

[sugarplumfairy777]

⋆˚✿˖°failure..? doubt...? limitations...? uhh...what is that?

#nonegativityinmyvocabularycuzimgodduh

♡︎doubts

there are moments when doubt clouds your mind, when you question your true nature, and wonder if it’s really possible that you are the embodiment of pure consciousness, that you are god itself. but here’s the truth: you are powerful beyond measure, and doubt is simply the ego’s way of keeping you small. remember, you are not the voice in your head. you are the one who hears it. you are not your body, your circumstances, or the labels others give you. all of those things change. you, however, are the unchanging, eternal awareness behind it all—pure consciousness. that alone is your essence, and it is limitless. it is god in its most divine, infinite form. you are that. your are god.

so why doubt? doubt arises when we identify too strongly with our limited selves—with the ego, the stories we tell ourselves about who we think we are, and the false separation we feel from the universe. but here’s the thing: that separation is an illusion. you are not separate. you are one with everything, one with all beings, one with the source of all creation. if god is infinite and formless, then that is who you truly are.

the world we live in is built on beliefs that reinforce separation and limitation, which make us forget our true nature as god, as pure consciousness.

from a young age, we’re taught to define ourselves by external things—our name, our achievements, our social status, how others perceive us. we’re told that we’re just humans, separate from everything else, living in a material world where everything seems to exist outside of us. society measures success by how much we have or how well we fit into its standards. this constant focus on the external world leads us to forget the infinite power we hold inside.

there’s also a deep-rooted belief in scarcity and competition. we’re told that there’s not enough for everyone and that we need to work hard to “earn” our place in the world. this idea of having to compete with others to survive keeps us in a mindset of lack and limitation. it makes us feel like we’re small, powerless, and unworthy of the greatness we naturally possess.

on top of that, most of us are bombarded by information and distractions that keep our attention outside of ourselves—social media, advertisements, entertainment. these things make us constantly compare ourselves to others, reinforcing the idea that we’re not good enough, that we’re missing something. when our minds are always focused outward, we forget to look within, where our true power lies.

religion, too, can play a role in reinforcing the separation. many traditional religious teachings portray god as something outside of us—an all-powerful being up in the sky, separate from us, judging us. this can make it hard to recognize that god is within us, that we are one with the divine. instead of seeing ourselves as divine beings with infinite power, we’re taught to see ourselves as flawed, imperfect, and in need of salvation from something outside of us.

the education system also teaches us to prioritize logic, reason, and empirical evidence. while these things are valuable, they often make us dismiss our inner knowing, our intuition, and our connection to something greater than the physical world. we start to believe that the only “real” things are those we can see, measure, and prove scientifically, which distances us from the understanding that we are consciousness itself.

all these systems—society, media, religion, education—focus on the material, the external, and reinforce the idea that we’re separate, small, and limited. but these are just illusions. the truth is, beyond all these distractions, we are god in human form. we are the creators of our reality, infinite and powerful beyond measure.

to overcome this conditioning, we need to remember to turn inward, to connect with our true essence. by shifting our focus from the external world to the inner, we can begin to see that the separation and limitation we’ve been taught are illusions. we are, and have always been, one with the infinite.

think about that for a moment: you are the consciousness that creates worlds.

the doubt you feel is just the mind holding on to a false story. it’s the ego trying to convince you that you need to stay small, stay afraid. but you don’t have to. you have the power to step into your true nature at any time, to realize that you are already the infinite, and that nothing can diminish your divine power. cuz ur god duh. 😝

how do you release these doubts?

shift your perspective: any time you find yourself doubting, pause and ask, “who is doubting right now?” is it your higher self, your infinite consciousness? or is it your mind, your ego, your conditioning? you’ll realize that it’s always the latter. remind yourself that the real you, the one observing, is always free from doubt.

affirm your power: wake up every morning and affirm: “i am infinite. i am consciousness itself. i am god in form.” these words are not just affirmations—they are the deepest truth of your existence. repeat them, let them sink into your being, until you feel the energy of your divinity pulsing through your every cell.

remember your unity with everything: god is not something separate from you. the universe is not some distant force. it is you. you are made from the same divine consciousness that runs through every star, every planet, every being. the same consciousness that creates life flows through you, too. you are the universe experiencing itself.

embrace your power: you are not weak, you are not small. you are the creator of your reality, the manifestor of your dreams, and the master of your destiny. nothing outside of you can take that power away from you because it is in you. it is you. every time you doubt, remind yourself of this: i am the creator. i am the source of all power.

you are limitless. the doubt you feel is just a temporary veil over your true power, but it can’t last. every time you bring your awareness back to the present moment, every time you remember that you are pure consciousness, the veil lifts. the illusion fades.

there is no need to doubt when you realize you are already everything you seek. you don’t have to strive to become god, to become powerful, to become divine—you already are. it’s always been you. it will always be you.

so, the next time doubt creeps in, breathe deeply, smile, and remember: you are pure consciousness, infinite, powerful, and divine. you are the creator of all that is. step into that truth and watch the world transform around you.

♡︎failure

we’ve all grown up with the idea that failure is something to be feared, that it’s a sign we’re not good enough or capable enough. but what if i told you that failure isn’t real? it’s an illusion we’ve been conditioned to believe in, and once you truly understand this, especially in the context of the void state, you can release the fear of failure and step into your infinite power.

here’s why failure doesn’t exist and how realizing this can change your entire perspective on life.

1. failure is just a label, not a reality

first of all, the concept of failure is something we create in our minds. it’s a label we slap on situations when things don’t go according to our expectations. society conditions us to believe that if we don’t achieve a specific outcome, we’ve failed. but who decides what failure even means? it’s not the universe. it’s not some law of existence. it’s us, based on societal norms and conditioning.

society sets all these expectations—like getting a certain job, reaching milestones by certain ages, succeeding in school, relationships, and more. when we don’t meet those arbitrary standards, we call it failure. but the truth is, life doesn’t operate according to those rigid standards. there are no universal rules that say you have to achieve a particular thing by a certain time. when we attach the label of failure to an experience, it’s just a reflection of our own beliefs—not reality.

2. the void state: where failure dissolves

now, let’s talk about the void state. the void is a place where all external ideas and constructs—including failure—dissolve. the void state is the place of infinite potential, pure consciousness, and limitless creation. when you enter the void, you step outside of the physical world’s limitations, stepping into a space where everything is possible.

in the void, there is no concept of failure, because there are no external judgments or expectations. it’s a state where you can create whatever reality you desire, free from the constraints of your current circumstances. when you realize you can access this space, the idea of failure becomes irrelevant. why? because the void is a reminder that you are always in control of your reality, no matter what happens in the physical world. failure is tied to the ego’s attachment to outcomes, but in the void, the ego doesn’t exist. the void reminds you that you are not limited by past mistakes, external circumstances, or societal expectations. you are infinite consciousness with the power to create and manifest anything you choose. when you realize this, “failure” can’t touch you, because you understand that you can always start fresh, that you’re constantly creating in each moment.

3. there are only lessons and growth

instead of seeing failure, recognize that every experience is an opportunity for growth. when things don’t go the way you planned, it doesn’t mean you failed—it means you learned. it means you grew. each experience teaches you something valuable about yourself, your path, and the world around you.

when you shift your perspective to see every situation as a stepping stone, you’ll realize there’s no such thing as failure—there’s only progress. every setback is a redirection, a guide leading you toward a better understanding of yourself and your desires. it’s the universe saying, “this is what you need to learn before you reach the next level.” from this perspective, what we call “failure” becomes just another part of the journey toward expansion and self-mastery.

4. the power of the void to manifest success

when you fully embrace the void state and recognize your power to manifest, you understand that there is no wrong path. whatever you desire, you can create it. the void is a space where you can strip away all the beliefs that tell you otherwise, a space where you can manifest new realities instantly, regardless of what has happened before.

if you ever feel like you’ve failed at something, use that as a cue to tap into the void. enter that space of stillness, of limitless possibility, and remind yourself that you are the creator of your life. nothing is set in stone, nothing is permanent. everything is subject to change based on your thoughts and beliefs. if you desire a new outcome, you have the power to manifest it.

in the void, you realize that “failure” is just another momentary experience, not a permanent mark on your life. you can always rewrite the story, start fresh, and bring your desires into reality without being held back by what others call failure.

5. you’re always winning, even when it doesn’t seem like it

when you’re stuck in the mindset of failure, you’re looking through a narrow lens, focusing only on what didn’t go according to plan. but when you zoom out, you’ll often realize that those moments were setting you up for something greater. Trust that you are always winning. every step you take, even when it doesn’t look like success on the outside, is moving you closer to your ultimate goal. sometimes things fall apart so something better can come together. in the void, you can see this clearly, because it’s the place where your higher self is always in control, always guiding you toward your best possible life.

6. failure is just part of the illusion of separation

at its core, the idea of failure is rooted in the illusion of separation—that we are separate from our goals, separate from success, separate from the divine. but in truth, there is no separation. we are already one with everything we desire. the belief in failure comes from the false notion that we’re lacking something, that we’re not enough or that we’re disconnected from our power.

but the void state reminds us that we are already whole, already complete. we are god, we are pure consciousness, and we are the creators of our reality. failure doesn’t exist in a world where you understand that everything is connected, that you are already everything you seek.

embrace your power

the next time you feel like you’ve failed, remember this: failure doesn’t exist. it’s a label we’ve been taught to fear, but it’s not real. in the grand scheme of your infinite existence, there are only experiences—some of them are stepping stones to success, and some are lessons that help you grow. but they’re all part of your journey, and none of them diminish your power.

when you tap into the void state, when you realize that you are pure consciousness and the creator of your life, failure becomes irrelevant. you are always in control, always manifesting, always creating. setbacks are temporary, but your power is eternal.

so, let go of the illusion of failure, you are god, and in your world, failure does not exist. inducing pure consciousness/the void state is literally impossible to fail. failure simply does not exist.

♡︎limitations

as a god you are limitless. no matter what anybody tells you, you are limitless that will never change because that is just the truth. you will and can never stop being god. you are not just some random human who came across loa/manifesting some random friday afternoon. you are limitless. you are pure consciousness, you are the creator you determine what is real and what is to happen.

no dream is too big no desire is too out far out of reach, you are god so might as well just start acting like it lol.

[thethronezone]

Perturabo had never cared for his son. He had known from the moment the child had been born that Maximus was flawed. A disappointment like the rest of his legion. Perturabo had done his best to refine the boy, to turn him into a worthy astartes, but he wasn't a miracle worker. He couldn't fix something that was broken from the very beginning.

Despite this, Perturabo had kept Maximus close, even when once the boy had officially joined the Iron Warriors as another space marine. He reasoned it to be out of shame. Better keep an eye on the boy and make sure he didn't embarrass Perturabo any further. After all, that was his blood, flowing through his veins. His genes which had crafted this flawed specimen. He had to take some sort of responsibility, he supposed.

So why does he feel like both his hearts have just been ripped out?

The Battle of Isstvan V had been more difficult than initially assumed. The loyalists had fought back remarkably well, considering the fact that they had been caught completely off guard. But it was almost over now, just a couple of stragglers and minor skirmishes left. Clean up. The worst of it was supposed to be over now.

Perturabo had not expected to find Maximus skewered on a loyalist's sword, rapidly growing paler by the second as he bled out.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-" Maximus whispered under his breath and when he saw his father approach, his expression twisted into one of genuine remorse and shame. "I'm sorry, I wasn't strong enough, I couldn't hold the line, I let my guard down, I failed you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Perturabo said nothing as he knelt by Maximus side, said nothing as he inspected the fatal wound that had pierced through several of his major organs. Dying. Perturabo's son was dying.

Small. Perturabo had always thought his son had been too small but it felt so viscerally wrong now.

The Primarch looked Maximus in the eyes and instead of seeing a wounded astartes, he saw the little boy that once had gotten hurt during a training exercise and begged his father for forgiveness for not being good enough. Back then, Perturabo had sneered and told him to stop pleading, that it made him look weak and pathetic. Maximus had taken those words to heart as he had never done it again. Until now, that is.

Maximus wheezed. "I'm sorry father, please don't hate me."

Normally, Perturabo would have felt disgusted by this blatant display of weakness. Of the lack of discipline. But any condemning words he had died before they could even reach his lips. He didn't feel disgusted, like he ought to. Instead he just felt so very empty.

"I don't hate you" Perturabo finally said and felt a detached form of surprise when he realized he was speaking the truth. Maximus started at him with wide, glassy eyes and Perturabo felt the need to say... Something. But he didn't know what. Praise felt hollow. Reassurance false. Words just didn't feel like enough, so instead he grabbed his son's hand in his own. "I don't hate you, Maximus" he repeated, more to himself this time. Again, the truth of the statement surprised him.

Had Perturabo not spent all these years loathing his son? Cursing his weakness and the shame he had brought him as a father? Perturabo knew hate, was intimately familiar with the feeling, so he knew that was what he had been feeling. But if WASN'T towards Maximus, who had it been meant for?

A wet cough from Maximus snapped him out of his musings. His son (stars, his SON) clenched his armored hand weakly and Pertufound himself leaning closer, his other hand reaching for Maximus shoulder as if to steady him.

Maximus' expression of despair eased by a fraction and his body relaxed. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath, before opening them once more and looking his father directly in the eyes. He cracked a sad, remorseful smile.

"I'm sorry I failed to make you proud, father."

And then he was gone. Perturabo saw the light leave his son's eyes, heard his hearts beat one last time before coming to a full stop. Yet he could not accept it. Maximus could not be dead. Not really. He was alive just a moment ago, talking, looking him in the eyes. It wasn't right. IT WASN'T FAIR!

Perturabo wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. Wanted to tear open a hole in his chest and rip out the pain and grieg that was overwhelming him. But he did none of that. Instead he just kneeled by his son's body, still holding his hand.

Finally, he knew what he should have told his son when he had still had the chance. "It was I who failed you, Maximus."

But it was too late now.

[ikkyfics]

Unrequited Love | part II

Remus Lupin x f!reader

Summary: Some days he thought about going to you, trying to say something to fix things. Other days, he knew it would be pointless. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve the smile he used to get, the attention that made him feel... seen. As if all parts of himself, even the ones he despised, were worthy of acceptance.

Warnings: angst

A/N: I finally made part II - anon, thank you so much for the idea, I will be forever grateful. I hope you and @beaucate like this, this would not exist without the help of you two <333

Masterlist | part I

Remus saw the way you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to breathe. He saw how your fingers tightened around the strap of your backpack, as if you needed to hold on to something to stay strong. Your eyes opened, and you smiled — a smile that wasn’t the one he knew — joyful, sweet, and radiant. This smile was sad, forced, doing little to hide how your eyes were shining.

“I’m fine, Remus. Thank you.”

He knew it was a lie.

Before he could stop himself, Remus raised a hand, but you had already started to walk away. He watched you move farther, the way your shoulders were hunched. And he hated himself for making you feel that way.

Remus saw you leave, the muffled sound of your footsteps echoing through the empty hall. He remained still, his hand still raised in the air for a moment before letting it fall to his side. The expression on your face was something he wouldn't forget anytime soon. It wasn’t anger, nor was it evident hurt — it was something much more subtle, a mix of resignation and pain that made him feel like he was ripping pieces of himself apart to protect you.

Protect you. That was what he told himself to justify what he had done. The truth, however, was much crueler: he was a coward. He knew it.

His fingers clenched around the sides of the book he was holding, the rough paper almost hurting his skin. He wanted to believe that he had made the right choice. That by breaking whatever you had felt for him, he was saving you from something much worse. Something that he knew was bound to happen, sooner or later. But deep down, the doubt ate at him like poison.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that someone so... pure could like him.

“Are you okay?” James’ voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Remus blinked, realizing he had been standing in the hall longer than he had realized, the book now crumpled in his hands.

“Yeah,” he replied quickly, straightening his shoulders. “I’m heading to the library.” It was a lie, but James simply nodded, giving him a concerned look before continuing on his way.

It was strange how the others didn’t seem to notice anything. Maybe because he was good at hiding. Good at smiling when needed and changing the subject when conversations became dangerously personal.

But they weren’t blind. A few weeks later, Sirius teased him during breakfast.

“You’ve been so quiet lately, Remus. Even for your standards. Something going on?”

He shrugged, trying to focus on the bread he was spreading butter on. “Just tired.”

“Tired, huh?” Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Hasn’t got anything to do with her, has it?”

Remus froze. He didn’t dare lift his eyes.

“Who’s ‘her’?” Peter asked, curious, as he chewed on a piece of pie.

“Oh, you know,” Sirius leaned forward, a knowing smile on his face. “That girl who always used to greet our dear Moony, and now barely waves before walking off like he’s invisible.”

“Shut up, Padfoot,” Remus muttered, but his voice was low, lacking the usual sharpness.

James laughed but tried to change the subject, perhaps sensing the tension. “Leave Moony alone, Sirius.”

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes still glinted with mischief.

Remus forced a smile, but the lump in his throat was tight. He knew you didn’t treat him the same way anymore, and he couldn’t blame you. You still greeted him politely, but there was something distant in your gestures, something that seemed to have been carefully rehearsed to keep both of you safe.

And he hated how it affected him.

You weren’t sad anymore — at least not on the surface. He found himself watching you from afar, seeing how you laughed with your friends, as if trying to prove to yourself that you were fine. And maybe you were.

But he felt the absence. Not yours, exactly, because you were still there, in the hallways, in the library. It was the absence of something he didn’t dare name, something he had destroyed himself.

It was unbearable.

Some days he thought about going to you, trying to say something to fix things. Other days, he knew it would be pointless.

He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve the smile he used to get, the attention that made him feel... seen. As if all parts of himself, even the ones he despised, were worthy of acceptance.

You couldn’t carry the burden of being with someone like him. He was a monster, even if he hid it behind kind words and a calm exterior.

But still, he wanted you to stay.

And that selfish desire tore him apart every night.

The full moon always left Remus exhausted, but this one had been particularly cruel. He could barely remember how he managed to make it back to the infirmary, the details blurred between the searing pain and the murmurs of his friends who had helped him.

Now, silence enveloped him. It was early morning, and the first light of day filtered weakly through the high windows of the hospital wing. He was lying there, his muscles still sore, as if every movement was a battle against his own fragility.

Remus kept his eyes closed, enjoying the brief moment of calm. He expected nothing but solitude — maybe Madame Pomfrey’s concerned voice later, or the muffled whispers of James and Sirius debating whether they should bring him chocolate again.

But then, something shifted in the atmosphere.

There was the soft sound of footsteps on the cold floor, hesitant, almost shy. He could sense, even before opening his eyes, that it wasn’t one of his friends. The scent of something delicate reached him — flowers.

With effort, Remus cracked his eyes open and saw you.

You were standing beside the bed, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers. Your expression was unreadable, but your movements were gentle. He watched as you placed the flowers in an empty vase on the bedside table, arranging them carefully.

For a moment, he thought he was dreaming.

What were you doing there? He couldn’t understand. After everything that had happened, after he had broken whatever there was between you, why would you come?

You didn’t say anything. Your hands still hovered over the vase, as if you were considering something but couldn’t decide.

Remus felt a pang in his chest. Not physical pain, but something deeper, sharper. He should say something, but he didn’t know where to begin. The words seemed stuck in his throat, and all he could do was stare at you, his gaze blurry from exhaustion.

Finally, you took a step back. Then another. It was clear you were preparing to leave.

“Wait,” he managed to murmur, his voice hoarse and weak, barely audible.

And before he could say more, you were already near the door.

He tried to move, to raise his hand to stop you from leaving, but his body protested, heavy and uncontrollable.

“Please...” He could barely form the word.

But you didn’t hear — or chose not to hear.

The door closed softly behind you, leaving him alone again.

Remus felt the emptiness in the room, a cruel contrast to the brief moment of your presence. The flowers beside the bed were the only proof that you had truly been there.

He closed his eyes, the physical exhaustion mixing with the agony of knowing that, even now, even after doing everything to push you away, a part of him still wished you would stay.

And maybe that was what he hated most about himself.

A few days had passed since you visited Remus in the infirmary. He tried to focus on his studies, his friends, the world around him, but nothing could quiet the turmoil inside him.

He thought about the flowers. About how you had been there, despite everything. About how the simple gesture of your presence had completely disarmed him.

Remus realized, too late, how foolish he had been. He didn’t want you just as a friend. He never had. But now he feared that, in trying to protect you from himself, he had destroyed any chance there might have been.

He needed to talk to you.

Finding you, however, wasn’t easy. You seemed more evasive than ever, always finding excuses to step away or avoid the places where he used to be. Still, he persisted. And when he finally found you, alone in the library, he knew he couldn’t let another opportunity slip away.

“Can I talk to you?”

You lifted your gaze from the book you were reading, surprised. Your eyes hesitated to meet his, but you didn’t say anything. You simply nodded slightly, calmly closing the book before standing up.

“Not here,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. He didn’t want the conversation to be overheard, let alone be shallow.

You walked in silence until you reached a more secluded corner, near an empty room. When you arrived, he took a deep breath, struggling to organize his thoughts.

“I... I wanted to thank you,” Remus started, his voice hesitant, almost a whisper, as if each word was a monumental effort. “For the flowers.”

You blinked, clearly surprised. Your eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to understand what that meant, before he continued.

“They were... very beautiful,” he added, looking away at the floor, as if he didn’t have the courage to face the impact of his words.

“Were you awake?” Your voice came out louder than you intended, filled with surprise and... something else that he couldn’t quite define.

“For a moment,” he replied, still avoiding your eyes. “I saw you.”

Finally, he looked up, and your eyes met. The silence that followed was so thick that it felt as if it enveloped everything around you, heavy like a storm about to burst. Both of you stood there, frozen, as if merely being in the same space was already an internal battle. What hadn’t been said, what still hung between you, weighed more than words ever could.

Remus was the first to break the silence, his voice almost a whisper, filled with a fear he didn’t want to admit but that overflowed. “Why did you decide to visit me?” The question slipped out with a thread of hopelessness, as if he already knew the answer, but at the same time, feared hearing the confirmation that your presence there meant nothing.

You stood in silence for a moment, as if trying to find the right words, but nothing came. Your eyes shifted to the ground, your hands gripping the flowers more tightly, as if simply holding them was the only thing that still made sense. He noticed how tense your fingers were, almost as if you didn’t know what to do with yourself anymore.

You looked at him, but the answer still hadn’t formed, still trapped somewhere deep inside. “I... I don’t know,” your voice trembled, almost as if the words had the power to break something you didn’t want to understand. “I just... felt I should.” The tone wasn’t firm; it was a confession you didn’t even fully understand.

Those words hit Remus like a sharp blade, cutting deeper than he expected. He felt his heart tighten, a mixture of relief and pain, because it meant you still cared. Or maybe it meant nothing. He didn’t know.

“Do you still care about me?” He couldn’t help it. The question escaped without warning, filled with a vulnerability he never imagined showing.

You didn’t respond immediately. Your eyes turned to the flowers in your hands, your face hidden behind a curtain of hair falling over your shoulders. The weight of the question seemed to crush you too, and Remus saw you hesitate, the air thick between you, before you finally lifted your head.

“I... I care,” your voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was something in your gaze that didn’t lie. “I just... don’t know what it means anymore.”

He didn’t know what to do with that answer. He was so lost in his own feelings that he could barely comprehend yours. He wanted to say something, do something, but nothing felt right. The time that had passed, the distance you had put between yourselves, made everything even harder.

He looked at you, and what he saw in your eyes made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t explain. “I miss you,” he said, without thinking, but with all the pain he had been carrying, and the weight of the words seemed to leave him even more exposed.

You looked at him in surprise, your eyes widening slightly, as if that confession wasn’t something you expected to hear. “You miss me... as a friend?” you asked, your voice tense, cautious, as if you feared the answer.

Remus swallowed hard, his throat dry, and he saw the doubt and pain reflected in your eyes. “No,” he answered, his tone deep and determined. “Not as a friend.”

Those words, so simple and direct, exploded in the space between you, leaving an even heavier silence. The air seemed tense, dense, as if the mere fact that they had been spoken could change everything. He watched your reaction, the way your eyes closed for a moment, as if you were trying to understand what this meant.

“I... I can’t...” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, as if you were trying to grasp the magnitude of what was happening. Your voice trembled, the words only a reflection of the turmoil of emotions running inside you.

Remus felt as if something inside him had shattered. He knew those words weren’t a direct rejection, but the confusion in your voice, the weight of uncertainty in your eyes, was enough to crush him. He ran a hand through his hair, looking away, unable to bear the reflection of the pain he himself had caused.

"I’m so sorry," he finally murmured, his voice breaking, laden with regret. "I had no right... I shouldn’t have said that. Not after what I did."

His face suddenly lifted, and he saw that your eyes were shimmering with tears you were trying to hold back. "I don’t understand," you interrupted him, your voice thick, almost trembling with emotion. "You rejected my feelings before I could even confess them. You didn’t even give me the chance to say anything. You said you only saw me as a friend. And now you’re here, saying you feel something more? How does that make sense, Remus?!"

He closed his eyes, as though his confession was a blade running through him, and shook his head, a deep expression of pain marking his features. "I know," he said, more intensely now. "I know I was wrong, that I was a coward, but... I just wanted to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" you exclaimed, frustration overflowing. "From me? Remus, you’re the kindest person I know! I’ve never... never been in danger with you!"

Those words hit him like a blow. He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he forced himself to look at you, the truth he had always kept buried rising to the surface like an unstoppable wave. "I’m a werewolf," he whispered, the words escaping in a hoarse whisper, but they seemed to fill the space between you like thunder.

Your heart stopped.

"I’m a monster," he continued, his voice filled with a pain that seemed to come from years of repression and shame. "Every full moon, I turn into something that shouldn’t exist. I could hurt you. I could destroy everything around me. And... I couldn’t bear the thought of you living with that. With me. You deserve something better, something I can never give you."

The words echoed in the silence that followed, a silence that seemed to scream. Remus couldn’t look at you, but he felt the weight of your gaze on him. It was as though every secret he had kept, every part of his soul he tried to hide, was there, exposed before you.

You stared at him, your eyes wide, lips slightly parted, as though his words were something you couldn’t immediately process. He had confessed the greatest secret of his life, something he had never told anyone unless absolutely necessary.

For a moment, silence reigned, heavy like a storm about to break. Remus kept his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to face the possibility of finding repulsion in your eyes. He had imagined this moment so many times before, the moment when someone would know who – or what – he really was. And each time he thought about it, the result was always the same: fear, distance, rejection.

But then he felt the movement. You moved closer, so close that he could hear your breath, feel the warmth of your body. He didn’t have the courage to look up, but his breath caught in his throat when he felt your hands touch his face.

Your fingers were gentle as they traced the scars marking his skin, as though each one was something you needed to understand, something you needed to feel. He closed his eyes, a shiver running through his body, not from fear, but from something deeper, something more visceral.

"You..." Your voice came out low, almost a whisper, but filled with emotion. "Is that why you suffer so much? Is that why you get so sick every month...?"

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. His silence was confirmation enough.

You didn’t pull your hands away. On the contrary, your fingers kept tracing the lines of his scars, as if you wanted to absorb every piece of him, every fragment of the story those marks told. And then, to his surprise, you smiled. A small, soft smile, but full of something he couldn’t comprehend.

"Remus," you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. "This doesn’t change anything for me."

He finally opened his eyes, too surprised to keep hiding. His gaze met yours, and what he saw there wasn’t fear, nor repulsion. It was something he hadn’t allowed himself to imagine: acceptance.

"How can you say that?" he asked, his voice rough and almost inaudible. "I’m... I’m dangerous. I’m..."

"No," you interrupted him, firm, but still gentle. "You’re the kindest person I know, Remus. You care about everyone around you, you always think of others before yourself. You are..." Your voice faltered for a moment, as your fingers still touched his face. "You are amazing. And this?" You lightly indicated the scars. "I don’t care about that. I couldn’t care less."

He shook his head, still in shock. "You don’t understand... this is a burden. I’m a burden. I could..."

"No," you interrupted him again, more forcefully this time. "You’re not a burden. And you never will be."

He fell silent, his eyes wide as he processed your words. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. No one had ever looked at him like that before.

You tilted your head, your eyes shining with an intensity he couldn’t ignore. "Remus, you’re so much more than this. You always have been. I just wish you could see that too."

He tried to speak, but the words didn’t come. The lump in his throat was too big, the emotion too heavy. And then, for the first time in a long time, he let the tears fall.

You didn’t say anything. You simply enveloped him in an embrace, your arms around him, firm and comforting.

Remus stood still for a moment, almost unable to believe what was happening. The warmth of your embrace surrounded him like something he didn’t know he needed, something he had denied himself for so long. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around you, as if fearing you might disappear if he let himself feel too much.

He rested his face against your shoulder, and the first tear fell silently before he could hold it back. A wave of emotion hit him – relief, regret, gratitude – everything mixing into something as overwhelming as it was liberating.

"I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice broken, almost inaudible. "For everything. For hurting you. For trying to keep you away... when all I wanted was to be close."

You tightened your embrace, as if that could erase any pain he was carrying. "You don’t need to apologize anymore, Remus. I just want us to... start over."

He pulled away just enough to look at you, his eyes still shining with tears he couldn’t contain. "Do you really want that? After everything?"

You smiled, a smile that was as sweet as it was firm. "I never wanted anything else."

For a moment, everything around you seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you there, in a world where what he was didn’t matter, where he didn’t need to hide who he was.

"I don’t know if I deserve this," he whispered, the insecurity still there, but now mixed with something softer, almost hopeful.

"You do, Remus. You’ve always deserved it."

He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing your words to settle, trying to believe them as much as you seemed to believe them. When he opened them again, there was something new there – a sparkle you had never seen before.

"Then let’s start over," he said, his voice still low, but with a resolution that seemed to grow with each word.

You smiled, extending your hand, as though sealing the pact between you. "Together."

He took your hand, fingers intertwining with yours. It was a simple gesture, but it was full of meaning. Because, for the first time, Remus felt that maybe, just maybe, he could have something he had always thought impossible: happiness.

And as you walked side by side, he felt something that seemed almost unknown to him – a glimpse of the future, a future he was finally not afraid to imagine.

[wildfyrevalkyrie]

This is such a wonderful write-up.

Couple things I want to add:

Despite all of this cognitive dissonance, Emet-Selch is still aware on some level as to the truth. For as much as he seems to forget that the Ancients sacrificed for the little things in the world, it’s Hythlodaeus who teaches you about it. Hythlodaeus, who admits that when Emet-Selch created him, he must’ve had a stray thought about how “Hythlodaeus will realize the truth”. Hythlodaeus, who is part

My pet theory for this is because, despite all of his posturing otherwise, (“your lives are pale imitations devoid of meaning”/“i’ve lived a thousand thousand of your lives to see if you’re worthy to inherit and you’ve come up short”), he does on some level remember that his job is to shepherd all life on the star, not just the Ancients. You can see this in how the Shades of Amourant treat you vs the Ancients of Elpis. In Elpis, you’re regarded as a familiar, something interesting but less than human. The Shades, meanwhile, regard you as a child, a person that needs to be taught and protected. And this view of the modern people as children extends to the other Scions, which shows it’s not just Emet-Selch’s Azem bias.

With regard to the Ancients sacrificing themselves for all the little things in the world, I think part of the way it’s presented to us in Shadowbringers is false. Hythlodeaus in Amourant talks about it as though all the dust had settled and then half the remaining population calmly sacrificed themselves at the DMV for the little things in the world because that’s their purpose in life, and then the Convocation decided to betray that by making a plan to bring them all back, and that lead to the creation of Hydaelyn, but that doesn’t seem to 100% match up with the truth.

While the spirits in the quest “Sea of Sorrow” and “A Trip to the Moon” speak only of the loss and fear that the Final Days brought, and how they “Became one with the star” to “Fill earth and heaven with light. Birth paradise where fear is only a distant memory,” the ones in “The Martyr” (the next quest) outright states that they “must return and be made whole” since they “are the will of the star” “now and forever”.

Additionally, while Hytholdeaus presents the matter as discrete events happening in peace and done because the Ancients were very noble, we see parts of the second sacrifice in “Thou Must Live, Die, and Know”. We see that the first sacrifice wasn’t enough, that the world was still apocalyptic. We see people sacrifice themselves to Zodiark not out of the good of the star but because they can’t bear reality and want to go back to “the days of old”. The creation of Hydaelyn and the sundering is presented not as a response to the Convocation’s plan but as a response to the people sacrificing themselves to Zodiark.

This isn’t to disregard the notability of their sacrifice—even had they believed it to only be temporary, it’s still impressive—but to shine a light on how our understanding of the Ancients in Shadowbringers come from an unreliable narrator. Emet-Selch has been trying to justify his actions to the memory of his people for millennia, he’s devoted his life to these memories, I don’t think it’s that unreasonable to suggest that the years have likely eroded away some of the rough edges the people in said memories might have had.

The Ancients were people—generally peaceful, very powerful, somewhat spoiled people, but people capable of being cruel, and selfish, and lacking in empathy. We see this in Elpis and in the Bureau of the Architect, where the Ancients created and destroyed life generally without a thought for how said life felt about it, just what would be “good for the star”. Life was sacred and death was celebrated in Ancient culture, but only some life. For the rest of it, well they’ve “served their purpose” and it’s time for them “to be reverted”—quotes from the quest “Verdict and Execution”, which honestly does a good job showing this gap in the Ancients’ empathy.

one thing I find neat about Emet-Selch is that his chauvinism is so intense that it actually prevents him from making the strongest possible case for the unique moral goodness of the ancients, and that this same mental distortion ties into his classic final fantasy need to turn into a Horrible Final Form Monstrosity for your final fight

(for my part I think any minor unique moral goodness the ancients possess they have due to their status as demigods living in eden before the fall. even if they really are morally/intellectually/spiritually/magically/etc. superior to every modern eorzean on a 1:1 level it still doesn't change anything because 1) they are mythical and impossible, that's the whole point and 2) even if they weren't, they still have no particular claim to existence that is superior to anyone else's, no matter how good they are. but the point here is the case Emet-Selch is trying to make, which is that they are more "worthy" of life.)

when he's setting you up for the final amaurot sequence, Emet-Selch hits you with this one:

it's a solid line! stops the party cold for a second.

it's also...not that impressive. do I think if we called a big world meeting that half of everyone would just jump up to be chosen? maybe, maybe not. but, sorry: we're having a big world meeting? are we also demigods with their every material need fulfilled in this version? do we have a one world government that almost everyone seems to fully trust telling us that it knows for real a way to stop the meteor heading towards earth? because honestly i think as soon as we start creating structural similarities like that, it becomes a lot more likely. and every step you take towards making the comparison happen on level ground makes the idea that the ancients were possessed of some unique moral fiber that made them capable of this sacrifice (as opposed to the undeniable abilities in magic and global governance that actually enabled it) seem less and less likely.

and especially if you consider it in the context of what actual people are like. human (and presumably eorzean) history is replete with examples of people sacrificing themselves to save others, even though none of us are immortal wizard philosophers. i don't know how the white-room thought-experiment "will half of you die to save the others???" turns out. but do i think, across a grand rolling catastrophe, that half our population would sacrifice itself to save the other half in a million individual acts of sacrifice to save a parent, a child, a lover, a friend, a stranger? that seems significantly more plausible. altruism and sacrifice for others is even pretty frequent in animals! it's not a very unique moral behavior!

(stanford encyclopedia of philosophy on biological altruism)

but that's not the only sacrifice the ancients made. roll the tape, hythlodaeus!

...Yet oh how the star had suffered. So many species lost. The land was blighted, the waters poisoned, and even the wind had ceased to blow. Once more did our people give of themselves to Zodiark. Another half of our race sacrificed to cleanse the world; to ensure that trees and grasses and myriad tiny lives would sprout and grow and flourish.

(every time I read this speech and hit the ff1/3/5 ref about the land and waters and wind i become mylongestyeahboyever.avi)

this is the step beyond, and it's what separates the ancients from modern humans. they viewed themselves as stewards of the star and really meant it; whatever other criticisms you might level, you can't doubt the depths of their commitment. and this i think really does make them morally distinct from modern people, or at least raises that possibility in a much more compelling way than the first sacrifice. half of the living population sacrificing itself not in a moment of duress and apocalypse but in a moment of calm? when the sacrifice isn't for anything but plants and animals and some tiny proto-eorzeans? that kind of cold, calculated, long-term altruism, aimed at people and living beings that are nothing like you...that does feel like something a little more unique, more worth preserving. even in just the text of the game, we can say with real certainty that the ancients were at least more capable of facing their problems and had greater moral integrity and care for the world than, say, the people who made ra-la.

but emet-selch can't ever say that because rejecting and dishonoring the decision the ancients made as stewards of the star is his primary goal.

like, "my people were uniquely morally good. half the living population sacrificed themselves not for their loved ones or for the survival of their people but simply for the world. for the trees and grasses and the wind and the water. for the humblest insects and for the summer breeze and the tides." that fucks! damn, you got me there! i watch enough people throw aluminum cans in the trash on a weekly basis that i find this sincerely moving and beyond the seeming abilities of my own brethren! oh no, i'm being persuaded by the fascist immortal space wizard!

"and therefore, because they are uniquely morally good, we are going to sacrifice and kill the very things they gave their lives to save, so we can have them back :)" well, shit. i'm experiencing some dissonance here.

but you can't actually lie to yourself as long as emet-selch without distorting your understanding of the truth. you cannot choose to see the world falsely half the time and clearly the other half. in committing to self-deceit and willful ignorance regarding the value of the modern world, emet-selch blinds himself not just to the world as it is but to the ancients as they were. if he could describe accurately the ways in which the ancients were genuinely noble and benevolent, he would also have to able to see clearly how he has entirely deviated from that ideal. and he cannot do that and stay on the path he has chosen, so he simply chooses not to see things accurately.

i cannot help but link this blindness of his to his trial. here, at what seems to emet-selch to be the last stand of the ancients, he says to you "to be clear this fight IS a metaphor, and in that metaphor i stand in for the Entire Unsundered World."

and yet, in standing against you, he betrays both the customs of the ancients and his very title, itself a direct signifier of the mission he was charged with as one of the convocation of fourteen: "to ensure that all is right in creation, that our star may know a brighter future." contra elidibus, for whom remembering his duty to the ancients is one and the same act as remembering his name, emet-selch declares his own to be mere pretense. and that's before we even reach the matter of his transformation.

emet-selch believes the only way he can save the ancients is to betray their principles, forget their greatest triumphs, and abandon their trappings. he renounces almost everything of the ancients, save for his pale and sad and faceless amaurot, in the hopes of bringing them back.

i am reminded a little of borges's three versions of judas, a short story which uses the lens of fictional literary criticism (appropriate for a story as interested in competing narrative interpretations as shadowbringers is) to recast the betrayal of christ by judas not as the greatest of sins but as the greatest of sacrifices.

The ascetic, for the greater glory of God, vilifies and mortifies his flesh; Judas did the same with his spirit. He renounced honor, morality, peace and the kingdom of heaven, just as others, less heroically, renounce pleasure. With terrible lucidity he premeditated his sins.

and, in turn, the sardonic footnote to that very same line, which unsettles that sentiment as soon as it has been presented:

Borelius inquires mockingly: “Why didn’t he renounce his renunciation? Or renounce the idea of renouncing his renunciation?”

[thatbitchery]

So the reason you can't achieve your goals besides the extremely unrealistic way they are because you just threw them together for the sake of having goals without taking tally of your person, circumstances, actual desires , strengths vs weaknesses etc (because you don't know who you are, but okay) is because you don't even know what it means. So I'll define it for you. Welcome.

Love- To love is to work in the best interest of. When you love something, your primary concern is what's best for this right now?And doing that- regardless of everything else

Validation- To validate is to accept as true. It is what it is. Not to agree with, not to align with, not to- no. This is the truth. Point blank (So when you're affirming 'I am a millionaire' when you're not you're invalidating yourself I hope you know this. One day we will unpack the damage manifesting and LOA has done to you and maybe even learn the right way to manifest if, yk, I even remember)

Happiness- The reward to solving a problem. that feeling of flowers bursting in your chest- yeah that's joy. Merriment. Fun. It's the result of SOMEONE ELSE solving your problems / pushing you into alignment. One day we will probably also unpack this. Or yk, your therapist. Its why you pay them,

Anxiety- The consequence of lack of security. It's really that simple. That's it that's anxiety.

Security- The assurance that you will avoid pain (OR be able to withstand it) and gain pleasure (Or be alright with the lack thereof) as a consequence of a decision or situation or indecision. It's "so What" and "Ok, and?" and "Bring it On' but the type that comes from an accumulation of evidence that you can, in fact, handle it- and not performed fearlessness. One can lead to the other, though. Security is confidence. Anxiety is lack of confidence. It's there if you look at it enough you'll see it.

Relationship- Exchange of value

Manifest _ Bring into reality

Boundaries- Lines of definition that hold within them individuality/ identification. Boundaries are what you mean when you say / I Am/. It is what separates you from the world. It is your "Who Am I?"

Pain- reward for separation. Whenever you separate from someone or something you feel pain- on the Philosophy that we are all ONE its, again, right there. If you are in pain there has been a separation somewhere.

Healing is the act of experiencing the opposite. It's really just that. Whatever you want to heal rom, what is the opposite? Seek that. This is where your therapist and I butt heads- and I know you're paying THEM but listen to me. It's an industry aimed at making profit and I won't demonize it matter of fact I want you to go to therapy BUT. This is what healing means. I will GLADLY unpack this with you anytime. Seek out the opposite experience.

Contentment- Reward for connection. This is in fact the opposite of pain. It's alignment.

Discipline - conscious informed targeted choice based on commitment. I will never unpack this with you so whatever David Goggins or Thewizardliz or whoever said also applies, but it's wrong. & you know it's wrong. That's why you struggle with it and it never works.

Manifesting - bringing into your present/ reality . It's really just that. You wanted a book you went and bought a book voila you manifested the book. Sorry to take the magic out of it but that's literally just it. Bring into your reality.

BMAC

[heretherebedork]

Fire and Water in The Heart Killer ep 7

Because there's so much of both of them.

The fire of Bison's birthday, two candles, two moments with men who do love even if things are going sideways right now. The tiniest flames that signify another year in his life, another change, the moment you get to make a wish and you hope it happens. Kant asks Bison to make a wish but Fadel just tells him they should finish what they started that same night, stop stretching it out.

Kant still wants to believe they can dream together.

Fadel is ready for this dream of Bison's to be over.'

But also the flames are tiny. They are candles, nothing more, barely lighting the darkness, barely touching the blackness that has come over them and that is the candle that always gets blown out, the fire returning them to darkness each time.

But this? This fire? The betrayal fire? The moment that Fadel found out that not only was Style a snitch but that Bison had supported him faking their relationship and pursuing him despite knowing it was a lie? That is a fire that is huge but still doesn't touch the darkness. That is a fire built to destroy memories and built to destroy that first moment that Bison felt like he was in love but it also showed the fire that screams inside Fadel as he realizes that all the trust he gave was never real.

From the tiny birthday flames that mean wishes to the burning trash can of betrayal, the melting trophy inside. The birthday candles were meant to share bonds but this fire breaks them, set between Fadel and Bison and filled with the symbols of Kant's lies to Bison.

And then water.

Or the lack of water, in this case. An empty swimming pool. No way to put out the fire, no way to cool off, the only danger present truly being Fadel and his gun. This is not a personal places to either of them, this is not something specific, this is just a place (to our knowledge, at least). There's no deep emotional connection here. It's just a place no one can hear Style yell from because that's all Fadel needed it to be.

Fadel is betrayed on all sides and his first idea is isolation but he's also quick to take Style up on his offer to help find his brother. It's Fadel who first tells Style in the hospital that everything has changed.

(Fadel let love fill him and now he is empty and he has nothing left, no protections for himself. He told Style they still had business and that this was over and basically warned him and he still slept next to him afterwards in the car. Fadel wants so badly to be able to trust and love but everything feels empty, no water in the pool and no memories in the fire for him, just choking smoke and emptiness.)

Bison takes Kant to a very personal and very wet place. He places him on a boat in the ocean and he holds his gun but he is not the real threat, Bison is never the reason Kant is truly scared in this position.

And that's so reflective of them. Even the birthday candle is not the only light for them, the room is warmly lit all around them because the biggest danger is never Bison, the biggest danger comes from the world around them and where they put themselves.

Bison is holding a gun to Kant but Kant is more afraid of the ocean than he is of Bison (and, frankly, with good reason for all that Bison dreams of killing him) while Fadel brings Style to a place where he was nothing to be afraid of but him.

The episode starts with fire and ends with water (or the lack of water) and next week is about more water and more love and four men trying to come to terms with lies and truths and love and hatred and betrayal and what it means to recover from heartbreak with the same person who broke your heart.

[taldigi]

what are your yu headcanons? i’m curious — i love hearing ppl’s interpretations of the persona mcs!!

Sure! I think about him too much, anyway.

Loves his family more than anything. His friends are his family, too.

Autism man 1000 years strong

Oral fixation. It was almost eliminated but it came back full force due to the stress of the investigation. RIP his pencils. Chews his (disposable) chopsticks to splinters.

Didn't know any origami until moving to Inaba. Makes cranes when anxious or bored. Learns more types over time. It's become a telltale sign that Yu's been in the area when you see origami stars or cranes littering the area.

Gay. i know canonically he's not/is at least bisexual but idk- Atlus has a good track record of of their "MC can't be too interested in a single girl lest we invalidate a player's chosen girl" that just comes off as them being not interested at all.

Is actually pretty genuine about liking things like fishing and cooking (sometimes i've seen people interpreting these hobbies like they're a means to an end). He knows many recipes by heart.

He knows the recipe for LeBlanc's curry. He thinks he dreamt it up because he remembers Ren telling him about it during PQ2.

He thinks the Yasogami uniforms are really cool and likes how they feel, too.

Is really good with kids. He has has two social links with kids and one with a mom and her kid. That, plus he's pretty welcome doing a daycare gig as a boy- which is typically a pretty unwelcoming field for guys.

Tries his best to see the best in people. Adachi fucked that up a bit for him tho.

His arena title actually hurt his feelings a lot more than he lets on.

Incredible patience developed from years of neglect as a kid. This is not always a good thing. Sometimes (outside of extreme circumstances) he needs to be reminded that he's allowed to be mad or frustrated.

Stone faced and calm for similar reasons. Was scolded pretty harshly a few times for emotional outbusts as a child- emoting too much stresses him out since there's the fear of being admonished (even though he's too old to be scolded.)

He's a chronic people pleaser and it's caused him trouble more than once.

That being said, he doesn't shy away from being blunt.

Struggles to ask for his own needs to be met.

He cannot sleep until after midnight on rainy days. Even when away from Inaba. He's tried, even with medication.

He may have the braincells of the group, but one of those braincells is Yosuke. Yosuke is also 40% of his emotional control.

All of his friends are special to him, but when it comes to anything: he reaches to Yosuke first. He trusts him enough to follow him to hell. Psychic partner connection.

Teddie is his unproblematic fave. He is President of the Teddie fanclub. Blorbo.

Has wondered if Izanagi is his "true" persona, or if it was forced onto him by Izanami. He is also a little self-conscious about never having a shadow.

there's something gender about him.

Hates being alone, living alone even moreso.

Not particularly fond of lying. Not that he'll blurt truths or anything comical like that, but deceptive behavior is the quickest way to push his buttons.

Cats cats cats. If Neko Atsume was a personality trait.

Not picky about food. Will even eat stuff that shouldn't be food. Neglect side effect. He never grows out of it. Would absolutely drink the water in tartarus.

Nervous about a post-fog TV world, but warms up to it after Teddie ushers the team to visit. After confronting Adachi, he never visits alone again: but it's a pretty great spot to escape to. Good picnic spot (not that Inaba is lacking in them)

(future Headcanons)

He uses his TV world glasses as an emotional comfort item, even though he doesn't need them.

He learns that he's not super fond of the city, and once he gets his driver's license after college: he never spends more than a day or weekend trip in big cities.

I imagine him as a college dropout. Instead, he opts to get various licenses. This disappoints his parents and they have a fallout about it.

Grey rocked his parents.

Works on call for the shadow operatives. He also watches over the TV world with the rest of the IT and offers regular reports to them. The benefits are generous, too.

His Wildcard ability eventually erodes over time as he doesn't really gain access to the Velvet Room's functions again. Most of the alternate personas he has sort of... fuse back down into Izanagi (which is why, in the sequels, he doesn't really utilize multiple personas)

As said before, he thinks the Yaso uniforms are cool as hell and is almost crushed when he can't fit in his old one. Kanji makes him a sort of lookalike/inspired jacket as a gift and it's his favorite jacket of all time.

Reaches out to Namatame, and actually keeps him pretty informed on TV world stuff. I like to think they have coffee sometimes.

(Izanagi)

makes deep grumbly noises with sharp metalic sounds. Think like.. pokemon's Bastiodon or Aegislash.

Looks and acts stoic, but as he's technically Yu's shadow, he's a little weepy & cries easily.

Gets lonely easily.

this is a really silly one, but: You can give Izanagi a little treat by feeding him batteries.

thats all I can think of for now.

[cosmerelists]

Did I Achieve my Earnest Hopes & Dreams for Wind and Truth?

The night before Wind and Truth came out, I wrote up a list of things I was hoping to have happen (or not happen) in that book. Now that it's a month later and I've finished it, how much of what I wanted did I get?

[Obviously, big big spoilers for Wind & Truth!]

Kaladin lives. WELL... He is...alive. Immortal, really. But all of his friends think he's dead, since he left his body behind when he became a Herald. He did not get to meet with up Adolin & Shallan for drinks like he promised. That's more what I was hoping for...but I'll take this. He IS alive.

Kaladin lives and is happy. WELL... I actually think he's...somewhat happy? He swore the Fifth Ideal. He's with Syl. He's in a Tranquil Mind Palace giving therapy to the Heralds. It does seem like it might get a bit...lonely? But it did not end with him broken or anything like that, so again...I'll take this. He's not unhappy.

There's a really cool Kaladin fight. Maybe two. Honestly, I think we had a sad lack of cool Kaladin fights. I understand that this book was all about Kaladin figuring out who he is without the spear, and I respect that...but I did miss there being some kind of Grand Kaladin Entrance After Which He Kicks Serious Butt. The only fight we got was him vs. Nale, which was...okay, but was solved ultimately via Flute and Therapy and not Cool Fighting Moves. I'm a somewhat simple soul. I missed having Cool Fighting Moves.

Kaladin & Szeth have to fight someone together. Not really. :( Not in the "back-to-back facing off against a hundred foes" that I was picturing, at least.

Leshwi has a significant role. Leshwi was there, but mostly walking and complaining about having to walk now. Again, I was hoping for more Cool Fighting Leshwi, which we didn't get, but I did like that we at least got some scenes with her.

There's a really cool Leshwi fight. Sadly, not so much. Her small amount of fighting was off-screen.

Adolin is NOT Odium's champion. He sure wasn't!

Adolin lives. He did! I think the Adolin story was one of my favorites, to be honest. Him becoming Unoathed was so cool.

Shallan lives (I'm not super worried about her for whatever reason but I couldn't just include two of the three, you know?) She did! ...Although trapped in Shadesmar but NOT able to world jump, which feels like the worst of both worlds. As soon as she got trapped I was like "Hell yeah Shallan worldhopper," but it doesn't seem like it's going that way, unfortunately.

Rlain & Renarin romance. Hell yeah! The Rlain & Renarin romance throughout this was super cute.

Rlain & Renarin romance that isn't like tragic or awkward or anything. I request warm & fuzzy plz. Yes! I like that it wasn't super angsty or anything. They both realized that they liked each other pretty quickly and then just kept making eyes at each other.

Shallan & Thaidakar meet. Well, they TALKED, so I'll take that!

MeLaan cameo. Well, as @archmage236 pointed out at the time, this was impossible since Mistborn Era 2 is after Stormlight. And there were no time travel shenanigans either. We DID get a kandra...but it was Ulaam, and not a cool kandra spy reveal.

...I notice the MeLaan cameo. I didn't but I'm pretty sure it's not my bad this time.

Rock returns or at least is in the book somehow. There was NO Rock! I was genuinely sad about that.

Kaladin hits his head on a doorframe in Shinovar. But not as sad as I was about Kaladin not bonking his head on ANYTHING. A tragic missed opportunity.

Navani invents something cool. You know...I don't think she did, unless you count the weird cocoon thing at the end. But she did figure out how to navigate through the Spiritual Realm, which was a cool Navani Science Moment so I'm counting it.

Navani thinks about Raboniel. I think maybe briefly?

We get the third Bondsmith. We did not! And now that Honor is (actually) dead, I feel like we won't? That's too bad, honestly.

The third Bondsmith isn't human. I suppose technically I got my wish here, yeah.

We find out that there are more than five Radiant oaths (pet theory that I want to be right about) Well I'm not right YET, but...come on! Honor even said he hates the number 5! How could that be the number of oaths?? It just doesn't make sense. It would be like there only being 11 metals or something.

Hemalurgy gets used.....I know that would be bad but I think it would be interesting. Hell yeah. It didn't have a huge role but I was actually delighted that Moash got Marshed.

Hemalurgy doesn't get used on anyone I care about!! I mean...I do care about Moash but I think he was a good choice for this. Future Herald Kaladin vs. Hemalurgic Moash battle, one assumes?

Shallan doesn't incorporate Radiant. :(

Maya cure. Yeah, like I said, I thought Adolin's arc--and by extension, Maya and the other Deadeyes' arc--was great! Maya was so butch and I love what she created with Adolin.

The theory that Shallan's mother was a Herald is confirmed. I think it's a cool theory. Oh wow was it ever! The chills I got when Shallan said, "She was at my wedding."

Bondsmith powers used for a fight. I think it would be cool. Sadly, no. We never really did get to see how they'd be used in combat.

Satisfying Sanderlanche. I don't think it was the Greatest Sanderlanche of All Time or anything, but I was fully captivated (and yes, the biggest downside for me was that it was more Emotions and Philosophy than Cool Fights with Swords. I'm a simple woman).

Kaladin meets a sheep. Or a dog. Or BOTH. I CAN'T BELIEVE SANDERSON CANONIZED NO DOGS AT ALL. Tragic. A true blow. And Kaladin only saw sheep from a distance.

I don't cry too hard... I actually did not. I teared up at actually two parts: when Maya came with all of the Deadeyes and when Kaladin decided to take Szeth's place as the Herald. (But honestly, I don't cry at books very often, so maybe that's on me.)

[not-too-many-eyes]

Something really fun about 37's interpretation of "infinity" and her insignificance within it as comforting is that it's not really cause she's so small the universe doesn't care about her that gives her comfort, but because that means she is contained within it.

She is "apart of the infinite" and while infinite is infinite and she's ultimately not special in the grand scheme of things she and is theoretically replaceable and replicable, it makes her and everything else "eternal."

It's interesting as well that she also believes that being replaceable and replicable and finite and having bounds and means is still...maybe not exactly Valuable but not a flaw or problem when it comes to human existence.

It's an idea "something supreme existences" (ones who know, see, understand, everything, ones who can do anything they want) can never understand.

Not in a "there a things beyond mortal comprehension" or a "there's a point we as people cannot pass" way but in a "This lack of understanding and security in the world, this existence within it that is chaotic, fallible, unstable, and Unimportant. Gives us a completely different way of understanding the world." way.

Which is just really intriguing and reflects well on both her detachment from the physical world (because it's ultimately still a belief that the physical world is Unimportant and Unstable, and that the only things that are eternal are transcendental and numerical) and her choice to be "involved and suffering" within it. It's just putting her words into practice. Proving her theorem, if you will.

It's also interestingly close to the mindset she says "irrational numbers" display in this sense. Where Regulus doesn't accept having "all the answers" (infinite secrets) cause she wants to find them herself. Though 37 is already said to be appreciative of all numbers.

I haven't finished reading her Prisoner in the Cave character story or reviewing her appearances it's just something that was on my mind. But it's also interesting given that 37 still believes in something that is "eternal" and says that she doesn't like the word hobby cause it implies "something that doesn't last" even though she herself thinks that hers and everyone else's existences are finite. And how when she's talking to Sophia she mentions that:

Which again reflects on her detachment from the world. Everything will be washed away, however the Truth will not be. Though she says when you I2 her that:

37: The shape of truth is not fixed. Anyone who tries to figure it out is doomed to get lost on their way. So I decide to draw the one I assume… but just to get it out of my mind.

Implying a similar unreliable and unstable nature to truth. I dunno. A lot of things going on here. I need to read philosophy books or something for this-

[art-missy]

You were often called doubtful. But you preferred the word 'prudent' to qualify yourself. Always thinking of many possibilities and outcomes, scenarios and strategies. Always analyzing, or over-analyzing. It could be a situation or just people, your mind would always scrutinize.

You were trusted as a strategist in the protocol. Figuring out enemies' plans with just their first movements. You were better at analyzing situations than people out of the field. And it was one of the reasons why you could not figure Tejo out.

He was too staight to the point.

So straightforward it often felt like a trap.

So when one morning, he casually sat at your table in the headquarters' canteen for breakfast, you braced yourself for whatever words would come out of his mouth. He just stared at you for a moment and you stared back.

"Your lack of trust in me is almost offensive," he finally said, leaning against his back rest. "I remember making myself clear : I'm attracted to you and I want to try something. However, you didn't give me an answer."

As usual, way too straightforward.

The truth was that you also were attracted to him. But his directness always freezed you. You were used to people hiding their motives. You were used to people being that direct when they pretended to be. Yet, everything in his actions and body language hinted that he was sincere. Which you couldn't fathom.

"Did I do something to you to deserve such wariness ?"

You looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't see your eyes well," you scoffed with light humor. "Might be because of the Top Gun-ish sunglasses."

The light snort escaping him startled you slightly. He then took off his glasses and set them on the table right between you. His gaze quickly found yours.

"Better ?" he asked.

It was.

You could look into his eyes better and yet, they did not help you at all. His very brown eyes were calm and focused, unlike your mind at the moment. He wasn't hiding anything, and it confused you. He was laying bare to you and it didn't seem to be a problem to him.

"What else ?" he inquired while stealing you a toast.

Your eyes narrowed but he easily supported your gaze.

"I don't know if I can trust a man with a v-neck that plunging," you hummed, taking a sip of juice as an amused smirk tainted his lips. "What does even attract you ?"

"Would you consider going on a date with me if I give you an answer ?"

You shrugged, not saying anything but it seemed like a good enough response for Tejo.

"At first it was your talent for finding the perfect strategy. There is something perfectly intriguing about your ability to adapt to a situation on the field and to lead your teammates to defeat your adversaries," he said simply, his eyes still anchored in yours. "Then it was your calm but fierce temper. Always with a harsh but clever come back on your tongue and the strength to back up your words. And finally, the ferocious grace with which you hold yourself. It is no secret that I love your eyes glaring at me."

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow, an almost resigned sigh escaping you. How could he say things like that without sounding or acting desperate ? Straight to the point as ever, which made him even more oddly attractive in your eyes.

"If I indulge you..." you started and rolled your eyes when you saw his smirk widening. "If I indulge you, what will you do once once you'll get bored ?"

Tejo clicked his tongue and shook his head in disapproval.

"Getting bored of you ?" his eyes squinted and he leaned slightly toward you. For an instant, the table between you felt insignificant. "I'm very doubtful it will happen."

"Only the future will tell us, I suppose," you shrugged.

Brimstone suddenly burst in the canteen, calling agents —yourself included for an emergency mission.

"Duty calls," you stood up and stretched your arms above your head.

He watched you, his eyes so focused on you.

"Of course," he nodded. "I'll wait for you."

[kyywritess]

CHAPTER 10: KNOW ITS FOR THE BETTER

pairing: aged up!katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

summary: After six intense years in Japan, YN LN has firmly established herself as a renowned gym owner. She's known by many pros for her charm, strength, and boxing abilities. She has a strong support system and amazing friends... her life in Japan was everything she dreamed it would be.

But everything changes one fateful night when a mysterious package appears on her doorstep. No note, no return address—just a plain box wrapped with a single pearly pink ribbon. As she unravels the contents of the box, she’s drawn into a dark, twisted mystery that seems to reach deep into her own past—a past she thought she had buried when she left her old life behind.

wc: 3.5k

warning: Guns, blood, car accident (let me know if I missed anything)

an: this was actually the hardest chapter to write, my brain has not been working properly. This chapter shows what Bakugo was doing the night he found out about James and Morettis daughter (chap 8). While Y/N was taking Milly to the cabin and figuring out Morettis location, Bakugo was plotting behind her back. Anyways enjoy 🫶

“Dynamight, we’ve found something.”

Bakugo stood in the middle of your home, surrounded by officers and detectives tearing through your personal belongings. The scene was chaotic, and the constant rustling of drawers, the clinking of metal, and the shuffle of paper filled the air.

He wasn’t sure how he’d arrived at this point. All he could remember was staring at the picture of the young girl—the one that had sent his mind spiraling. From there, everything became a blur. Thoughts of you, of Moretti, of connections he didn’t want to make but couldn’t escape, tumbled through his mind. The sinking feeling in his stomach wouldn’t go away.

Rage began to churn in his chest. The next thing he remembered, he was barking orders, directing his best detectives to enter your house. He hadn’t expected you to be here—didn’t want to look you in the eyes as his team scoured every corner of the home you’d made.

It felt wrong, even as his anger justified the intrusion. This was an invasion of privacy—bordering on illegal. But he didn’t care. The truth was the only thing that mattered now, even if it meant crossing lines.

“Sir?”

A younger detective called to him from down the hallway. Bakugo turned to find the officer standing at the door of your bedroom.

Walking down the hallway, his gaze landed on the framed photos that lined the walls. They were snapshots of your life—moments you had chosen to remember, moments that once made him feel like he knew you.

One of those photos caught his eye, a picture of you and him together. It was taken after his birthday celebration. You’d begged him to take a picture with you. The photo was simple—he stood beside you, dressed in his usual attire, while you held onto his arm with a soft, playful smile. His eyes were focused elsewhere, but he remembered the night vividly. He remembered the warmth of the crowd, the laughter, the sense that something unspoken had passed between the two of you.

Now, the sight of that photo made him want to destroy it, to wipe away the reminder of how wrong everything had become.

“We found a safe in the closet,” the detective said, breaking him out of his thoughts. “We’re working on opening it now.”

“Good. If you don’t get it open soon, I’ll blow it open myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the officers worked on the safe, Bakugo took a moment to assess the room. His eyes scanned the surroundings, noting how much it didn’t match the woman he thought he knew. The room was too dull, too plain, for someone as vibrant and energetic as you.

The beige walls felt sterile, the white sheets on the bed lacking even the smallest touch of personality. It didn’t feel like you. It felt like an imposter.

He wondered if this was where you went to grieve in silence. If it was him, he’d feel suffocated by the emptiness of the space.

“Sir, come take a look at this.”

The detective’s voice broke through his thoughts again. Bakugo stepped over, looking down at the contents of the safe with growing unease.

A M1911 pistol rested on the first shelf, and beneath it, a picture and a clear bag containing something shiny—was that a necklace?

“Is it loaded?”

“No, sir.”

“Put the gun in the evidence bag.”

Bakugo’s eyes shifted to the photo, his stomach twisting as he picked it up. It was a picture of you and Moretti’s daughter, the little girl smiling with her toothless grin. And you… you looked so young, so full of life in the selfie you’d taken with her.

A sick feeling washed over him as the realization hit—this wasn’t just some random photo. It was proof that you were connected to Moretti in ways he hadn’t wanted to believe.

He slipped the picture into the evidence bag before his eyes fell to the necklace. It was a simple gold charm with the letter “N” etched into it. His fingers traced the surface as he turned it over, trying to make sense of it, but nothing clicked. He shoved it back into the bag without thinking.

Every inch of his body ached with betrayal. You were someone he’d trusted, and now he found out you had been lying to him the entire time. The woman he had secretly loved, who had kept him in the dark.

Turning away from the bedroom, he made his way back to the living room, the weight of what he’d just uncovered sinking deeper with each step. He was seething now—his body shaking with fury, the kind of anger that made it hard to breathe.

“Bakugo?”

Kirishima’s voice reached him just as his hands began to tremble. His red-haired friend stood frozen in the doorway, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

“What the hell did you do, Bakugo?”

Bakugo’s teeth clenched. He didn’t care about what anyone else thought. He didn’t care about the way this might look. To him, the truth was clearer than ever.

“She’s working for Moretti.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Kirishima’s voice was laced with confusion, clearly not following his train of thought.

“Moretti’s daughter is her damn daughter. She’s the reason he’s even here.”

“No, man… you don’t know that. Calm down.”

Bakugo was beyond calming down. His voice rose, dripping with fury.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” His fist clenched, ready to put it through the wall if only to release the frustration coursing through him.

Kirishima shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting to Bakugos shaking hands. His heart sank as he pieced together what Bakugo must’ve found. “Okay,” he said carefully, “I’m not saying it doesn’t look bad. But we don’t know the full story yet.”

“I know enough.” Bakugo’s voice was lower now, but no less deadly. “She lied to us. She lied to me.”

Kirishima hesitated. “What if she didn’t? What if there’s more to this? Maybe she had a reason—”

“Reason?” Bakugo barked a humorless laugh. “You think there’s a reason good enough to keep photos of another man’s daughter? The man who’s been killing innocent women?” His voice cracked, and he abruptly turned away, his fists shaking at his sides.

Kirishima stepped closer, his voice softening. “I’m not saying Moretti isn’t scum. We both know he is. But we’ve got to be smart here. If we go off half-cocked—”

“I’m done talking,” Bakugo growled, cutting him off. “I’m done sitting around waiting for the truth to slap me in the face. I’m ending this. Tonight.”

“Bakugo, no!” Kirishima’s hand shot out, grabbing his friend’s arm. “Don’t do something you’ll regret. If you go after her now—”

A feminine voice cut through the tension, freezing both men in their tracks.

“Katsuki.”

Bakugo’s head snapped toward the sound, his breath hitching. Standing in the doorway, her figure silhouetted against the dim light, was the last person he wanted to see right now. Her gaze was steady, unreadable, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior.

YN POV

You had headed back home to grab a few things for the cabin, expecting a quick in-and-out trip. But as soon as you turned onto your street, your stomach dropped. Red and blue lights strobed against the darkened houses, and cop cars lined the road like a barricade.

Your heart pounded as you pulled to a stop, barely managing to put the car in park before you stepped out. Your house was the center of the commotion, its front door hanging ajar. Officers milled about, some talking into radios, others examining the scene.

Anger bubbled up, hot and unrelenting, pushing past the confusion. Your house was supposed to be your safe space, a sanctuary. Now it looked like a crime scene.

“What the hell is going on?” you demanded, striding toward the nearest officer.

“Ma’am, you can’t be here,” the officer said, holding up a hand to stop you.

“This is my house!” you snapped, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “Someone better tell me what’s going on right now.”

Detectives swarmed your house, tearing through your things, rummaging through your personal items with no care for your privacy. Bags of evidence piled up on your kitchen table, and a detective nearly barreled into you.

You froze in the doorway, your heart hammering in your chest. Among the chaos of the ransacked house, the sight of Bakugo and Kirishima arguing in front of your kitchen was the last thing you expected.

“Katsuki,” you managed, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to sound steady.

Both of them turned at the sound of your voice, but it was Bakugo who held your gaze—and the look on his face nearly stopped you cold. The fury in his eyes was unmistakable, a storm raging just beneath the surface.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he spat, his voice venomous and sharp enough to cut.

Your stomach twisted at the sheer hatred in his tone. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat.

Kirishima stepped forward, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “Hey, Bakugo, chill out for a second—”

“No,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off without looking away from you. “She doesn’t get to ‘chill out.’ Not after this.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt like the ground beneath you was shifting, threatening to collapse entirely.

Kirishima noticed your stillness and laid a hand on your shoulder, but you yanked it off immediately, still frozen by Bakugo’s gaze.

“You raided my home?” 

“And I had a damn good reason to,” he snarled, his anger unrestrained.

“Why?” The words slipped out of your mouth, a mix of hurt and confusion.

Bakugo said nothing. He just glanced toward Kirishima.

“Detain her.”

“What? Are you out of your mind? She didn’t do anything!” Kirishima’s voice cracked with disbelief.

“I said detain her. That’s an order.”

The room was spinning. Your head felt light as Kirishima reluctantly moved toward you, his hands on your wrists, but he was gentler than Bakugo. You didn’t fight him, though. You knew it would only make things worse.

“It’s okay, Kiri.” you said, forcing a smile through the tightness in your chest.

Kirishima’s expression faltered, but he complied. He cuffed your hands behind your back, ensuring they weren’t too tight.

As Kirishima gently guided you toward the door, his grip more protective than forceful, you stole one last glance at Bakugo. But he wouldn’t look at you. He just stood there, staring at the floor, his fists still trembling at his sides.

You didn’t fight, didn’t plead anymore. The truth was about to come out and you couldn't stop it. 

---

The ride to the precinct was silent.

The cuffs were uncomfortable, but you refused to let the discomfort show. You sat with your back straight, eyes focused on the road ahead, trying to push away the suffocating feeling of betrayal and hurt threatening to take over.

Kirishima sat beside you, silent as well, his expression hard to read. He hadn’t spoken much after putting the cuffs on you. But you could feel the disappointment radiating off of him, just like you could feel Bakugo’s fury burning into your skin, even though you weren’t looking at him.

Your mind was racing, replaying every moment, every word, every glance exchanged between you and Bakugo.

There was a part of you that wanted to scream, to yell at him for thinking the worst of you. But you knew that wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make him see reason, or make him understand what you were trying to protect.

Kirishima’s hand on your shoulder felt comforting, but also distant.

"Y/N..." He spoke your name softly, like he didn’t want to push you further. “I know this is hard, but... you’ve got to trust me, okay? This will all get figured out."

You shook your head. “It’s not that simple, Kiri.”

"I know," he murmured. "But I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you."

The words were kind, but they did little to calm the storm inside of you. How could you explain everything? How could you make him, or Bakugo, understand that there was so much more to the story than they could ever imagine? 

“Hey, slow down a little, will ya?” Bakugo’s gruff voice cut through the tense silence, pulling your attention away from your frantic thoughts.

The driver didn’t answer. His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles turning white as the car weaved recklessly through traffic. The engine roared as he pressed harder on the gas, the speedometer needle climbing past 80 mph.

Bakugo shifted in his seat, glaring at the man behind the wheel. “Did you hear me? Slow the hell down!”

But the driver wasn’t fazed. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, jaw clenched, a sinister focus etched across his face.

Bakugo turned his attention to you and Kirishima in the backseat. “Put your fucking seat belts on. Now.”

Kirishima reached for his belt without hesitation. 

​​“I can’t,” you muttered, lifting your cuffed hands slightly.

“Shit,” Kirishima hissed, moving to help you before pausing. 

The unmistakable click of a gun echoed in the car, and you saw it—

“She leaves her seat belt off.”

The barrel of a gun pressed against the side of Bakugo’s head, his reflexes too fast for most, but this time, he was trapped. The driver held the weapon steady with one hand, the other gripping the wheel as the car swerved dangerously close to the divider.

Bakugo’s ruby eyes sharpened into daggers. His growl was low and menacing, each word laced with a promise of violence. “You really wanna point that thing at me? You won’t even have time to regret it.”

“Shut up,” the driver snapped, eyes darting to the rearview mirror to catch you and Kirishima. “If anyone moves, I’ll put a bullet in his skull.”

Kirishima started to speak, his voice cautious. “Hey, man, let’s not—”

“Quiet!” the driver barked, his voice cutting like a whip.

“Kirishima,” Bakugo said through gritted teeth, his tone eerily calm despite the gun at his temple. “Put her seat belt on.”

“No!” the driver roared. His voice rose in panic and anger as he glanced at you. “I said leave it off! If anyone tries anything, I’ll kill you all right here.”

Your breath hitched as you locked eyes with Bakugo. His jaw was set, his teeth grinding audibly. The unspoken rage in his glare was enough to shake anyone to their core.

“Kats, leave it,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Just... don’t.”

The car surged forward again, narrowly missing a merging vehicle. The tires screeched as the driver veered into another lane, the momentum slamming you against Kirishima. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

The car was speeding recklessly now, weaving through traffic at a breakneck pace. If he crashed, you knew there was no chance of survival.

You leaned closer to Kirishima, keeping your voice low enough that the driver wouldn’t hear. “8237 Alpine Avenue,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on him.

“What?” Kirishima’s brows knitted in confusion as he glanced at you.

“8237 Alpine Avenue,” you repeated, your tone urgent and unwavering. “Don’t forget that address.”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?”

You leaned in closer, your gaze locking with his, every word you spoke heavy with determination. “If something happens to me, find the girl. She’s your priority. Do you understand? Promise me.”

His face paled, and his mouth opened to argue, but you didn’t give him a chance. 

Bakugo’s sharp voice pulled your attention back to the front. “You think you’re getting away with this?” he spat at the driver, his tone a mix of rage and scorn.

The driver sneered but didn’t respond. The tension was unbearable, and every nerve in your body screamed for an escape.

Then Bakugo’s voice cut through the chaos like a detonating bomb. “WATCH OUT!” 

The driver’s reaction was split-second—he jerked the wheel hard to the left to avoid the oncoming truck. The car swerved violently, tires screeching against the asphalt. Horns blared as other drivers slammed on their brakes, narrowly avoiding the spiraling vehicle.

The world seemed to tilt as the car lost control. You felt the terrifying weightlessness of your body being thrown forward, held back only by Kirishima’s arms as he shielded you with his bulk.

“Hold on!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of metal scraping and glass shattering.

The car spun out of control, skidding sideways before tipping. The deafening sound of crunching metal filled the air as the vehicle flipped.

Once.

Twice.

Your head slammed against the side of the door, stars bursting across your vision. The cuffs on your wrists dug painfully into your skin as you struggled to brace yourself.

“Y/N!” Kirishima’s voice was frantic, his grip tightening like a vice as he tried to keep you from being thrown around the cabin.

Then two gunshots rang out next.

The sharp crack was almost drowned by the chaos, but you saw the flash of the barrel as the driver fired in panic. The bullet shattered the windshield, fragments of glass spraying like deadly confetti.

Bakugo roared, his instincts kicking in despite the chaos. He lunged forward, slamming his elbow into the driver’s wrist. The gun flew from his hand, ricocheting off the dashboard and landing somewhere in the wreckage.

The car hit the guardrail with a bone-jarring crunch, flipping one last time before coming to a grinding halt on its side. Smoke and steam hissed from the crumpled hood as the vehicle groaned under its own weight.

Silence.

For a moment, the world seemed frozen, the air heavy with the acrid scent of burning rubber and gasoline. Your ears rang, the sound of your own ragged breathing the only thing grounding you.

“Y/N,” Kirishima rasped, his voice pained but steady. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you choked out, though your entire body ached. Blood trickled down your temple, and your hands were trembling as you tried to move.

A groan from the driver’s seat snapped you back to reality. The man was slumped over the wheel, dazed but alive.

Bakugo, however, was anything but dazed.

He kicked open what was left of the passenger door, his movements sharp and deliberate despite the blood dripping from a cut above his brow. His crimson eyes burned with fury as he reached in, dragging the driver out by his collar and slamming him against the side of the wreckage.

“You’ve got five seconds to tell me who sent you,” Bakugo snarled, his voice a lethal growl.

“Katsuki!” you called out weakly, struggling to sit up as Kirishima worked to try to free you from the wreckage.

Bakugo ignored you, his grip tightening on the driver’s shirt. “Five seconds,” he hissed, raising his fist. “Then you’re gonna wish you didn’t survive this crash.”

You tried to shift, to push yourself upright, but the moment you put weight on your left leg, a sharp, searing pain shot through you. It wasn’t just pain—it was like your body refused to move, as if the limb had simply given up.

“I—I think I broke my leg,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you clutched at the car door for support.

Kirishima’s head whipped around to look at you, his expression shifting from panic to something darker as his eyes traveled down to your leg. He crouched down, his hands hovering just above the injury as he took in the sight.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his face paling. “That’s not a break. You’ve been shot.”

Your breath hitched. You glanced down at your leg and saw it—the dark stain of blood spreading across your thigh, dripping down to pool at your feet. 

The pain in your leg was unbearable now, sharp and throbbing with every heartbeat. Your body screaming at you to stay conscious even as your vision swam.

“Fuck…” you groaned again, the dizziness hitting you like a wave. “I’m dizzy…”

“Hey, no, no, don’t do that.” Kirishima’s voice cracked, his worry palpable. “Don’t move. I’m gonna get Bakugo. Just hang on!”

You watched as he climbed out of the shattered car window, his movements frantic but deliberate. The muffled sound of his voice shouting for Bakugo was the only thing anchoring you to reality, though even that was fading fast.

The car felt like it was spinning, the metallic scent of blood and smoke filling your lungs. Each breath was harder than the last, and your eyelids grew heavier despite your best efforts to keep them open.

From outside, the sound of screeching tires from cars appearing and distant explosions shattered the chaotic silence. The fury in Bakugo’s signature blasts reverberated through the air, shaking the ground beneath the car. It was as though the world itself was trembling in response to his rage.

Your head lolled to the side, the edges of your vision darkening. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was the roar of Bakugo’s explosions, louder now, like he was right outside the car.

And then, nothing.

---

TAGLIST: @emmaafinchh @faetoraa @iissza @theasgardianmexican

[writing1raflesia]

Gravity falls x stealth transmasc reader

Context: Reader is a transitioned trans man who is trying to hide the fact that he is trans, but he is not very good at it.

★★★★★★★★★★★★

Stanford

Honestly he would take a while to notice, if he notice at all. He is too focused on his researches, dealing with his past with bill, saving his family, is not like he pays much attention to you. Even in the few moments where he is forced by his great niece to have a life out of his lab and he's alert for everything that might be wrong he doesn't seem to notice. He is a reserved person and takes some of your attitudes as being reserved as well. If you don't take your shirt of in a hot summer day is probably because you're shy or something, not to hide a scar, the lack of pictures of your youth might just be for the same reason as him, he never cared for pictures, it never crossed his mind that you might be hiding something, but if it does, oh boy prepare yourself, now this man is certain that you're a spy, works for bill, is a threat, something is wrong and he can think of all the wrong options!

Stanley

He's also one that doesn't find out on his on, I mean, he is surrounded by weird people and he himself hide some secrets, it's not his business right? Of course he is curious and you might be a spy from the government hiding the equipment, maybe the lack of pictures and how you sometimes mention some weird situations for a man to go through on your past migh be you getting your false background wrong from time to time...hm ok he might be obsessed on figuring out what you're hiding!

Mabel

She straight up start stalking you when she notice something was wrong and when you accidentally mentioned the feminine nickname you had on your childhood she started connecting the points. Watching you from afar with her binocular she notice the scar on your chest and realizes everything. She has an evidence panel with red strings, determinated to find out the truth, but when she finally does she start feeling bad about it, maybe you don't trust her enough to tell her? What kind of experiences made you want to hide that? Maybe is just not important for you? Well... Maybe one day she'll ask you about it, but not today

Dipper

Dipper is paranoic, the first time he notices something was wrong was in a hot day at the pool when you decided to swim with a shirt despite the hot weather, at first he ask you about it, thinking you might have some kind of insecurity or skin problems and couldn't get direct sun, but when you're answer is not satisfactory and it seems like you're avoiding the subject he start getting cautious about you, reading his journal to look for clues on what you might be or what could be making you act like this, when he doesn't find anything he start asking Mabel about it but she refuses to say anything. He must do some investigations and when he does so everything turns into a clue, the lack of pictures of your childhood, the way you avoid some subject and just seems ...odd... When he finally figured it out he feels dumb for not thinking about it earlier, just like Mabel he tries to think why you would hide such thing, maybe you think people would see you as less of a man for that? Well he understands this feeling, he will just let you be and avoids the topic if anyone question him, talking about it is your decision to make

★★★★★★★★★★★★

Author: thanks for reading!! This one was a request and I'm sorry if is not that good, I was a bit low creativity with that one. Any comments and feedbacks are welcome. Let me know if you want more characters or a transfem/NB version

[a-bottle-of-tyelenol]

This is made even worse because a lot of people interpret Odysseus’ lack of acknowledgement as something Eurylochus could see as a good thing. Like, Odysseus isn’t angry when he says to light up six torches and there’s nothing that would’ve led Eurylochus into believing it’s a bad thing; it’s just an order.

And Eurylochus could see that order as Odysseus reassuring him that they’re alright— that Eurylochus is still his right hand and Odysseus is still his captain, despite this mistake.

And, then, Eurylochus realizes the truth of it and he has reckon with the grief of killing his comrades all over again. Only this time, it’s so much worse because Odysseus is the one who caused it and he knows they can’t move past this together— not anymore.

I am horrifically late to the party and I’m sure this has already been said. But man. I cannot stop thinking about the song Scylla from Eurylochus’ POV

This man has spent gods know how long blaming himself for opening the wind bag, the guilt of knowing his mistake led to the deaths of 500+ of his comrades, everyone he’s spent the last ten years fighting alongside

He’s finally reached his breaking point, the guilt and shame has been eating him alive this entire time. So he tells his captain, his brother in law and in arms, exactly what he did and how he inadvertently killed most of their crew

And Odysseus doesn’t even acknowledge that, he just tells him to light six torches. Okay, weird, but he trusts his captain. He lights the six torches and hands them to six men, six of his comrades. Only to find out that he’s once again directly led to the brutal deaths of more of his men

He’s spent the entire time dying inside knowing that he killed them, and now Odysseus had him kill six more without even knowing it. Gods, no wonder the guy started a mutiny, I would be devastated too

[lyricalchrysanthemum]

hey.

hey.

i know its been in his playlist for a long time but now im thinking really hard about rats died. piper.