#but i like understanding what makes them distinct regardless

[dollgxtz]

Ok a fic where reader and sylus are at a business meeting, she “offers” herself as payment (maybe as a joke or just to rile sylus idk) and he makes sure to remind her who she belongs to? Please???

Kindred Spirits

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, possessiveness, ownership, spanking, hitting, slight blood mention, pet names like kitten & sweetie, creampie, rough sex, crying, slight fluff at the end :3

AN: Anon ur a literal genius. This has Sylus written all over it. Im so happy to be back posting another story for you all! Also happy to announce my masterlist is now complete and can be found in my pinned! Ty all! Enjoy and remember, my asks are open for any character, Sylus is just my husband LOL. Remember to read my pinned before requesting please! This is a bit tamer than my other stories but trust I am cooking up some deviant content as soon as I publish this one :33

“Finally…”

You nearly collapse near your front door. A whole week of your life. Gone. To what you ask? Dealing with wanderers on a special aid mission. Sure sure, the job paid well but it had been weeks since your last off day. Every time it seemed like one was around the corner here they go with some emergency call and a spill about how some rich politician needed help or something.

You were starting to get tired of cleaning up other people’s mistakes.

You fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the biting cold. The wind whipped around you, making you shiver as you tried to fit the right key into the lock. Your breath came out in visible puffs, and you could feel the frustration building with each failed attempt. Finally, with a relieved sigh, you heard the click of the lock turning.

The still warm air is such a welcoming contrast to the wind and biting cold outside. You quickly shut your door and melt to the floor, your feet aching with relief as the pressure you had been putting on them subsided. Peace at last. Time for a hot shower an-

Your peace was cut short with the distinct tone of your phone ringing. And not just any ring tone. The one you had set specifically for a certain white haired man that only ever brought trouble. Wondering if you should even pick up, you bring the phone to your face, knowing that you were going to answer regardless.

“Sylus…I’m really tired. Can we talk lat-"

“Long time no see kitten. You should stop by for a bit, hm?”

You roll your eyes, suppressing the urge to scoff out loud. Arrogant prick, you think, irritated by his inability to let you finish a sentence without interrupting. How did he even know you were home now?

You sigh deeply, feeling the tension building, and rub your temples to alleviate the mounting frustration. No, you tell yourself firmly. You wouldn’t put up with this today. Maybe another day, but definitely not today.

"Actually, no. I just returned from a week-long aid mission. Not today," you say firmly, aiming to be clear and resolute in your decision to stay put. Sylus however, seems to sense the cracks in your resolve and only responds with a chuckle.

“I want to see you. I’ll have Luke and Kieran come get you since you’re so tired”.

“Hu-”

“See you soon. They’re en route. Ciao”

The phone clicks, signaling the end of the call. For whatever reason, your ever growing frustration simply dissipates, defeat taking its place. You should be used to this by now. Sylus always gets what he wants. And you always let him. It goes without saying that it’s the same way for you as well. At least, Sylus always gives you what you want if it doesn’t interfere with his need to lay his eyes on you at least once in awhile. He knew that you wouldn’t push this though. You both knew.

Deep down, you wanted to see him too.

You asked Luke and Kieran to wait outside for a bit while you took a brisk shower and freshened up. Those two had always been very patient and understanding. You felt bad “bossing” them around, and yet they always insisted that you could. Though Luke had admitted on one occasion that he never expected to be helping a girl find hair ties or carrying shopping bags while working for Onychinus.

The statement had made you laugh a bit. You finally finish dressing in some plain sweats and rush to the car. Luke and Kieran are waiting outside of a dark colored jeep. Not too flashy as to not draw attention, but it was still clearly very expensive.

“Actually miss, Boss wanted you to wear these” Luke says, holding out an expensive looking dress. Clearly designed by hand and tailored to your measurements. Kieran follows his lead, holding out a box containing a pair of earrings and a lavish looking necklace.

“Huh? What’s this for? A date?”

“Business. That’s all he said” Kieran chimed in. Although you couldn’t see their faces, you knew they had no reason to lie to you about this.

“Ah. Dragging me into more trouble. Got it”.

When the three of you finally arrived to the location, the sun had already set for the day. You darted your eyes back and forth, squinting above at the bright neon sign of the establishment.

“We’re not going to the N109 Zone? This is a nightclub…” you mutter, taken aback by the unfamiliar surroundings. When did this even get here? There were plenty of clubs in Linkon of course, but you never seemed to notice this one. Not that you knew much about the night life to begin with. People were lined up at the entrance, chatting, fixing makeup, or texting.

“Boss wants you here. He’s waiting inside. Enjoy your time miss” Luke said, amusement written all over his tone. He gets out of the passenger seat to open the door and lend you a hand. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to appear shaken up by the situation. Sylus was always full of surprises. This was no different, act confident.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. After getting almost immediate entrance into the club with just a simple nod from the guard, you enter. As you walk inside the club, Luke and Kieran not far behind you, you can tell this was no ordinary night club. Everyone here was dressed lavishly and sharp, clearly possessing power and ulterior motives. A few eyes lay on you as you walk in, and you feel your hands start to sweat.

Keep cool. This isn’t the first time you’ve been around high ranking individuals. This is probably some test he set up…right? Or some kind of joke to get a laugh?

Clenching your fists, your eyes dart and search for a tall figure with white hair, feeling more nervous by the second that you don’t see him. You’re about to turn around and ask one of the twins, but at last your gaze settles on him, sipping on a glass of Gin Fizz. He’s sitting in a velvety booth by himself, people watching. He’s wearing his black button up with red streaks across it, coat hanging on his shoulders per usual. As if he felt you staring, his eyes shift to meet yours. He sets down his glass, giving you you a small smirk. His eyes narrow, sending a very clear message.

Come here.

As if you were suddenly possessed, your feet seem to start moving on their own. You weren’t sure if you were relieved to see him or if it was just the relief of seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place. You take a few deep breaths as you approach, readying your witful replies to any of his attempts to make fun of you. Without making any sound or looking at him, you quietly slide in next to him.

“You look nice. Seems I was right about this look on you” Sylus says, taking another sip of his drink. His eyes wander up and down behind the glass, seemingly devouring you. You squirm under his gaze.

“Hm. Thanks. This gift is the least you can do after dragging me to do whatever you want on a whim once again” you scoff, eyeing the full glass that sits on the table. It’s another glass of Gin Fizz, probably for Sylus. There’s three other very empty glasses on the table.

This man can definitely hold his alcohol.

He chuckles, taking a finger and pushing the glass of Gin closer to you.

“Don’t be like that sweetie. Loosen up a bit, you’ll need it”

“For what exactly? Business?” you mock, picking up the Gin. You didn’t exactly like the taste of this particular alcohol of choice but Sylus was right about one thing. Some liquid courage was definitely needed for whatever shenanigans he was dragging you into tonight.

“Yeah. Figured I could use Linkon’s darling Miss Hunter as backup” Sylus chuckles, watching you nearly choke as you take three big gulps of the drink. You squeeze your eyes in disgust as you finish the rest of the glass, shooting a death glare in his direction as you set it down.

“You’re perfectly capable. Don’t mock me Sylus”. You grit your teeth in irritation, almost ready to rip him to shreds with your words. Clearly your tone has no effect on him though, as all you get in return is a soft smile. Sylus places a hand on your upper leg, slowing sliding his fingers under your dress. You gasp, the coldness of his fingers making you twitch a bit. The warmness of your skin mixed with his cold touch makes the sensation feel like icy fire.

“Or what? You’ll use this on me?” he smirks, tugging on the concealed gun strapped under your dress. “I’m all for it honestly”

You slap his hand away, the woozy feeling from the Gin Fizz starting to kick in. What was in this drink? It was strong. Too strong.

“Pervert. Always touching me, making fun of me. Maybe I will shoot you. Again.” you growl, turning your head away from him. You attempt to scoot away as well, but are met with a strong grip around your waist as you’re pulled into closer proximity with him. Sylus grabs your chin and lifts it towards his face. He leans down a bit, the smell of alcohol and his bourbon vanilla cologne making you feel even more dizzy.

“You can put your claws away now kitten. Don’t make me have to melt your little tantrum away” he coos, gently caressing your face with his thumb.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, desperately searching your sluggish brain for a comeback but finding yourself too flustered to form any words. The look in Sylus’s eyes shifts from a smug expression to a much softer, almost tender gaze, and you wonder what his next move will be. Your face starts to burn as you feel heat rising in your core, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic sets in as you consider the possibilities, your mind racing with the fear of what might come next.

Don’t tell me he’s going to…?!

"You're so...confusing" you mutter.

You’re just about to try and squirm from his grip, when Luke and Kieran tap on the table, catching yalls attention.

“Boss man, Val says he’s ready for ya” Luke says, nonchalantly ignoring the scene that’s displayed in front of him. Sylus releases your face, his face going serious again. He gets up, reaching out a hand to help you out of the booth.

“Time for business, sweetie”

You’re guided by the twins and Sylus past the sweaty bodies on the dance floor to a somewhat hidden room located downstairs. The area the stairs led to was blocked off by a singular rope, clearly only meant for a select crowd.

In the room there’s a long black table, cards and chips all over it. There’s a few prominent figures already seated, along with a few bodyguards standing near the door. Sylus pulls a seat out for you, before taking his own. You study the figure that’s sitting at the head of the table as you sit. He’s short, a bit chubby, dark hair, smoking a cigar. A scar sits angrily on his forehead and you wonder what kinda grudges led to such an injury. He notices you looking at him, and gives you a devilish grin. Some of his teeth are crooked or missing.

All that money and he can't fix his smile?

You shudder. Sylus looks over at you, and back to the man at the head of the table. He’s reading you, clearly sensing your nervousness. He says nothing, simply reaching a hand over to rest on your thigh.

“Was starting to think you were going to keep me waiting Sylus. Seems you didn’t run after all” he laughs, wheezing a bit as he takes another puff of his cigar. You wrinkle your nose a bit as the potent smell hits your senses.

“I couldn’t turn down a game of cards with my dear old friend” Sylus says, irritation coating the last word. “Let’s keep things civil this time, hm Valentino?”

Valentino bursts into laughter, clearly amused. Despite his laughter, you couldn’t ignore the murderous tension in the air. Something tells you this isn’t any regular game of cards. You gulp, trying to force yourself to look at everyone at the table and smile.

“Well hello little lady. Sylus, you didn’t tell me you kept such gorgeous company…” Val says, his eyes snaking all over your body. You feel Sylus squeeze your thigh, clearly irritated. He pulls out a coin from his coat pocket, seemingly trying to channel his frustrations into something else.

“You know I’m not really the type to share, Val. She’s all mine. Down to every single strand of hair”. Sylus ends, catching the coin and shooting a glare in the man’s direction. It was plain, but conveyed a message very well.

You feel your palms start to sweat. Was he being serious right now?? You side eye him, trying to piece out whether or not this was some kind of facade you’re supposed to play into. Valentino clearly takes Sylus’s words as a challenge.

“I’ll give you twenty million for her. Maybe fifty million if you make her give us a little strip show. What do ya say? She looks so soft. Probably makes cute noises too…~” he chuckles, likely enjoying the look of surprise that washes across your face.

Sylus remains quiet, his face unmoving, frozen in a pissed glare. You don’t know if it was the alcohol you drank earlier, or if it was some inkling of an attempt to dissipate the tension, but you clear your throat and begin to speak.

“Well Sylus? You can share can’t you? It’s quite the generous offer Mr. Valentino. I’m quite flattered actually.” you express, putting on your best smug look. Sylus stiffens, a somewhat shocked expression washing over him. Valentino erupts into yet another fit of laughter, seemingly unable to contain himself. Turning to look back at Sylus, you see it in his face briefly. An uncaged look of rage before it quickly dissipates.

Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

Far too late to stop now though.

“You heard the lady Sylus. Why don’t you try sharing just this once? What I would give to taste that sweet little body of he-”

Sylus slams a revolver on the table, then calmly starts picking up cards from the deck.

"I'd suggest you stop talking and start playing the game, Mr. Valentino," Sylus snarls, his words dripping with venom. The fury in his voice is palpable, and it's clear he's reached the end of his patience.

You give Val a sly look, feigning pity. “Ah, sorry Valentino. Seems this one can’t quite let me go yet”. You don’t know what you were trying to achieve, but it’s certainly not working to dissipate any tension. Val doesn’t respond to you though, all his focus on Sylus now.

“My dear friend. You should know me by now. There’s something I’m much more interested in now than some money. Now I want the girl, or nothing”.

Valentino wears a shit eating grin on his face, soaking in the fact that he thinks he’s gained some control of the situation, unaffected by the gun on the table. Sylus simply sighs, rubbing his fingers against the temple of his forehead.

“I see where this is going then”.

You barely process what’s happening before everything and everyone starts moving. As soon as Sylus begins to stand, Valentinos guards start shooting. Sylus wastes no time flipping the large table, sending the cards and game chips flying everywhere. You yelp as he yanks you towards him using his body and the table to shield the oncoming attack of bullets. You hear Luke and Kieran joining in the frenzy, yelling obscenities as they begin shooting their own hidden weapons.

You swiftly reach for the weapon concealed beneath your dress, your fingers brushing against the cool metal as you draw it out. Turning to face Sylus, you ready yourself for his instructions, your body tense with anticipation. Instead of giving you orders, he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you with an intensity that feels like it's reaching into your very soul. The silence is heavy, charged with unspoken tension as bullets whip past the both of you, and you can feel your heartbeat quicken in response.

“I need you alive for what’s coming sweetie. Pay attention, stay close”

You blink. Twice. Unable to process his words before he yanks you both up, one hand using his evol to send the table crashing into several bodyguards. The four of you fight your way through the onslaught of people coming into the door, before eventually dashing up the stairs. People are running in all directions, seemingly caught up in the chaos of everything. You all manage to make it out the door and into the brisk cold air, the twins quickly hopping into the car to whisk you away.

“Go on, I’ll catch up soon” Sylus states, hurriedly pushing you into the car and slamming the door before you could protest. He signals Kieran to drive off, and that he does.

“He’s…going to level the building. Isn’t he?” you sigh, sighing at the fact that Sylus seemed to conveniently forget that this was in fact not the lawless land of the N109 Zone. No doubt the Hunter’s Association would have to investigate for potential wanderer activity, and that would be a lot of paperwork.

"It's fine. He owned that place anyway. He'll just build another," Luke says, his voice calm and unbothered. Just as the words leave his mouth, a deafening boom erupts behind the car, shaking the ground beneath yall. The explosion's shockwave rattles the windows, and the sky lights up with a fiery glow, cutting off Luke's next sentence mid-breath.

You groan.

The twins did drive you to the N109 this time, swiftly helping you out the car and into Sylus’s private villa. When you entered the front door, a nightgown and lacy underwear were laid neatly out for you in his room, your arrival clearly anticipated.

It wasn’t more than an hour before Sylus waltzed in the front door, eyeing your slouching figure on the couch. You sit up as soon as you see him, still somewhat annoyed.

“What took you so damn long? Also do you have to level every building you come across?” you spat, glaring at him. He says nothing though, walking straight past you and into his room.

“Huh? Sylus?? What the hell…”

Not liking the feeling of being ignored, you hurriedly chased after him. You had never really been uncomfortable barging into his room. You had done it plenty of times at this point, the first time being when he had challenged you to steal the brooch from him. No point in being shy now. He’s fumbling with something in his drawer when you reach up to tap his shoulder.

“Sylus! Don’t ignore me, I know you ca-”

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist before you can touch him. His gaze is unreadable, cold even. You start to sweat, trying to take your arm back. But he only squeezes tighter.

"I was hoping you'd leave me be so I could calm down. But of course you're as petulant as ever" he says.

"Let go! What's wrong with you!?" You attempt to remove his hand from your wrist but he doesn't budge.

“Go to the bed. Place your hands on it” he says, face unchanging.

“Huh??”

“I don’t like to repeat myself”.

You freeze for only a moment before quickly moving to the bed. You meticulously put your hands where instructed, something deep in your core telling you that it’s likely best to listen for now. However, you can’t help to look over your should to quip at Sylus. You’re slightly bent at an angle, trying your best to keep your balance.

“What’s this about? I’m not that upset that you reduced the building to rubble”

Sylus snakes his way behind you, quietly, as if thinking of what to say. He reaches out a hand, grabbing the ends of your nightgown and moving the soft fabric around in his fingers. You feel the heat rise to your face, the skin of your ass feeling a slight gush of cold air.

“You like playing games with me, don’t you? Testing me” he says coldly, fingers trailing up the back of your legs slowly. You shiver, attempting to squirm away. His evol appears around you, its tight grip making you cry out.

Oh. This was about that.

“Huh?? No, I was just playing along. Just friendly banter yknow?” you say, voice wavering. You’ve clearly pissed him off. A part of you knows it’s a slight lie. You didn’t want to admit it out loud but it was kind of amusing to see Sylus get so riled up over something. Over you especially. But you hadn’t exactly done it fully on purpose. It was the alcohol.

But you knew he wasn’t buying it, as observant as he was.

“Sure. You were just pretending to act like a stray kitten trying to find a new owner?” he smirks, his fingers beginning to trace circles over the cloth of your panties. You let out a small whine, his touch just barely grazing your already wet cunt.

“Owner? I don’t belong to you. Or anyone” you scoff, the resolve in your voice wavering with every little circle he completes on your skin. You almost whine in disappointment when he pulls away.

“And yet…” Sylus trails off, leaving you with aching curiosity before you’re met with stinging pain on your ass. You cry out, unable to move with his evol still snaked around you. “You did exactly what I told you to do just now, wear the clothes I leave out for you, and practically melt everytime I even barely touch you”.

“Sylus?! What the hell was that…?!” you exclaim, trying your hardest to process his words and the situation at hand. He doesn’t respond, proceeding to gently caress the spot where he smacked you. The stinging pain gently eases away, and you feel yourself relaxing with his touch once again. He once again trails his fingers down to your clothed pussy, rubbing slow and meticulous circles around it. You start to whine, attempting to push yourself into his fingers for more friction. He pulls his hand away, making a disapproving sigh.

“Acting like you’re in heat per usual” he chuckles, watching as you wiggle around under the grip of his evol. “This is a punishment”.

“For what? Cause I let some sick and ugly looking crime boss think he had a chance with me?”

Sylus wastes no time bringing his hand to your ass again, earning another painful whine out of you. You feel tears forming in your eyes that you can’t wipe away. He’s certainly not holding back his strength, and yet you know this isn’t even a third of the force he could use on you.

“For entertaining him” he says plainly.

Another smack.

“Another for stupidly handing over your life, body and soul for a measly twenty million”

An even harder hit, this one fueled by rage.

“And lastly…”

You nearly choke as he delivers the final blow, your ass definitely bruising by now. Sylus offers no comfort this time, instead leaning down next to your crying face, breath hot against your ear.

“For forgetting that you belong to me, just as much as I belong to you. Kindred spirits remember?”

You have no chance to respond before he’s flipping you on your back, your nightgown flying up to reveal your wet panties.

“I-im sorry, Sy” you choke, tears blurring your vision.

“Show me then, sweetie. Spread your legs. Wide” he instructs, reaching up to brush your tears away. This isn’t done lovingly, more like calculated and cold.

This is far from over.

You silently but shakingly open your legs, your ass still painfully aching from his assault. You’re surprised when he doesn’t rip your underwear in two, choosing to rather peel them off your legs slowly. You notice the hunger in his eyes as he does so, as if savoring the view of your cunt at his fingertips. A small drop of arousal pools down your ass, and Sylus scoops it up with one finger.

You watch as he puts his finger in his mouth, savoring the drop of you with swiftness. His piercing gaze never leaves yours though, and you want to suddenly run away and hide. This is beyond thrilling, but you try your best to remain as still as possible, scared that he’ll think you’re enjoying it too much and punish you accordingly.

You suddenly can’t take the tension anymore, and close your eyes. You hear the sound of Sylus removing his belt from its loops, then the loud clang as it hits the floor. You feel the bed shift as he lowers himself over you, his face stopping just inches over yours, indicated by the sudden feel and warmth of his breath. He grabs your face in his hand and squeezes your jaw. Hard.

“Look at me kitten” he commands, his tone filled with unkempt rage and anger. Your eyes fly open, terrified.

“I’m the only one that will ever taste you. Repeat it” he says. Before you can get a word out, he’s pushing the fat tip of his cock in your entrance. You cry out in agony, nowhere near ready to have been penetrated. But he doesn’t stop filling you.

“Repeat it. Or I’ll hit you again. Do you want that?”

“You’re t-the…ah!” you whine, his cock halfway inside you at this point. Your poor cunt feels like it’s being impaled, splitting pain soaring through your core.

“Try again”

You let out a whimper, trying your best to push through the pain and put thoughts into words.

“You’re the oh-only one that gets to taste me” you choke out, voice wavering and your eyes teary. Sylus gives a hard thrust, pushing the rest of his length inside you. You cry out again, feeling like you’re on the verge of passing out. Sylus seems unmoved by your outbursts though.

“And?”

You stare at him, barely able to see his face through the tears. What? What does he mean and? He didn’t say anything else did he?

“Hu-what?”

You hear him sigh with disapproval, giving you yet another hard thrust. And another. And another. You’re clinging onto his back now, nails digging into his skin as the sound of the bed creaking and your pants fill the room. Blood has probably been drawn on his back, not that he’d even notice. You can hear him grunting in your ear, clearly enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him when you tense from the pain. Although it still hurts, you can feel yourself accumulating to the shape and size of his length, and the pain lessons a bit more with each thrust. He stops once again, tilting your face in his grip.

“What did I say you forgot? Or is this kitten filled with too much cock to think straight now?” he mocks. You can hear the smile on his face despite not being able to see him clearly. Heat creeps up on your cheeks as you wrack your brain for answers.

“I-you…we’re kindred spirits?”

“Before that sweetie”

You blink the tears on your face away, your vision becoming a bit more clear. Although he’s still gazing down at you, his expression is not as angry as before. Seems he’s gotten a bit of his pent up anger out now.

“I belong to you, Sylus” you say, voice small and whiny from crying. That’s definitely what he wanted to hear, as he began to pepper kisses on your neck, on your cheek, and eventually resting on your lips. You greedily return his affection, leaning into this feverish kiss, the both of you only periodically stopping to pant for air between kisses. He stops, resting his forehead with yours, gazing into your eyes once more.

“And I belong to you. What’s mine is yours. All of it”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s thrusting again, this time with a continuous and steady pace. You cling onto him, the exchange of flowery words and rigorous thrusting already bringing you on the verge of ecstasy. Sylus already noticed long before you did though, as he brought his hand between the two of you, circling your clit further your stimulation.

“Go ahead, come undone for me” he whispers, voice strained for nearly being at his end too. Your body obeys, unraveling and writhing with pleasure as Sylus continues to pound into you. You ride your orgasm to its end, till the touching of your clit becomes too much and you whine from overstimulation.

“Sylus…!” you moan, and he stops, already at the start of his own climax. You shudder as you feel him spill into you, his seed immediately beginning to pool down your cunt and to your ass. He pulls his heavy cock out of you, a feeling of emptiness taking its place. For a moment nothing is said, just the sound of the both of you catching your breath.

You decide to break the silence.

“Sylus…I’m really sorry” you start, looking up at him. He simply chuckles, placing a kiss on your cheek before getting up to grab a rag from the bathroom.

“You’ve taken your punishment quite well, why are you apologizing again sweetie?” he says from the bathroom, coming back to wipe you clean. You scoff, slightly tensing from the coldness of the cloth.

“Hmph. Fine, I take it back then. I’m holding a grudge anyways for how hard you hit me”

He simply sighs as he finishes wiping you up. “Back with the infamous wit already? Can’t a man catch a break?”

You sit up, feeling emboldened once more.

“Nope. Maybe don’t hit me with the strength of a thousand suns next time and we’ll see”

Sylus tosses the rag in a laundry basket, making his way back to your side. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you in his warmth. You can’t help but smile against his chest.

“Well, good thing I have all night to make it up to you”

You lightly pinch his side, giggling into his embrace. A question crosses your mind.

"Did you mean it Sylus? We belong to each other?"

Sylus took your face in his hand, giving you a slight smile.

"I don't say stuff I don't mean. You know this"

That's the furthest he was willing to explain it. At least for now. Who knows what kind of power trip would ensue if you truly knew how much you had the big bad leader of Onychinus wrapped around your finger.

[starconchs]

𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞— gojo satoru

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: even after you leave the jujutsu world behind, gojo satoru finds himself unable to get over you. genre: fluff! some angst but happy ending, friends to lovers notes: inspired by the song "haunt me (x3)" by teen suicide, gojo is awful at realizing his own feelings and dealing with them wc: ~4.8k

the day that you leave tokyo jujutsu tech is a dull one.

gojo think this must've been months in the planning, especially considering the fact that you're standing with nothing but a backpack slung over your shoulder with the rest of your belongings nowhere to be seen.

(he later learns that they had already been moved to your new apartment, and nanami and shoko had helped you move out over the course of a month.)

he also discovers that he's the only one that hasn't been informed of your departure, especially since he seems to be the only one taken by surprise as you stand by the entrance and say your goodbyes. he wonders if it's his fault for taking so many missions after geto's defection, and he feels his stomach lurch uncomfortably when he realizes that he's been so distracted that he once again couldn't see something happening with one of his friends.

and now you're leaving.

"you have to promise to visit," shoko says, engulfing you in a tight hug. gojo feels his mouth run dry at the sight, and he can't help but feel panicked when you give shoko a soft grin.

"i'll certainly do my best," you respond, reaching over to tug on her hair. she sighs in return, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you gently as she stares you down.

"answer your phone, ok? you can't ignore my texts now that you're leaving."

a quiet laugh leaves your lips at her words, and you nod reassuringly before giving her a loud smooch on the cheek and moving down the line. gojo watches you closely as you say your goodbye to yaga, the older man turning away from you to brush a fake tear away from his eye. he presses a soft, floppy doll into your hands before you move away from him, and gojo can see the distinct shine in your eye that lets him know that you're holding tears at bay.

he looks down at the ground when he realizes that he's the only one left for you to say goodbye to, and he can't help the way he tenses up when he sees your shoes come to a stop in front of him. there's a moment of silence during which gojo can feel everyone's eyes on him, and he begrudgingly looks up at you and removes his sunglasses.

if this is the last time he's seeing you, he's going to make sure he remembers every little detail.

there's a sharp intake of breath as you steadily meet his gaze, and you find yourself rendered speechless at the sight of his eyes. gojo can hear shoko cough lightly, and he steels himself before giving you a forced smile.

"so you're leaving," he whispers, his eyes widening slightly when he realizes what he's just said. you seem to be caught off guard as well, eyebrows raising in surprise before giving him a nod. he takes a moment to breathe, aware of shoko's lingering gaze as the two of you face each other. "oh. i didn't know."

"yeah," you breathe, rubbing your arm as you look away from him. "i hadn't gotten the chance to tell you. it seems like you're always off on a mission these days."

"you could've texted," gojo attempts to say jokingly, wincing when his words fall flat. you laugh lightly at his words, recognizing the teasing undertone even if the delivery had been less than perfect. you always seem to understand gojo, regardless of whether or not he wants you to.

"we both know you never look at your phone," you tease back, giving him a pretty smile that he hasn't seen in a while. he chuckles breathlessly at your jab, and he nods his agreement before glancing at shoko.

"neither do you," he shoots back, the corners of his lips turning up into a small smile when you follow his line of sight. "you gotta get better at that. can't risk pissing shoko off."

the space between the two of you is filled with uncertain laughter at gojo's remark, and you take a moment to study gojo before taking a step forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. he stumbles back a step or two at your sudden action, tensing up when you tuck your face into the crook of his neck.

"i'll miss you," you whisper, your breath warm against his neck. he tries to ignore the goosebumps that rise up along the smooth expanse of his neck, too focused on wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him when he feels you start to step away.

gojo knows that everyone else is watching the two of you, he can feel shoko's soft gaze and yaga's sad look as he does his best to ignore them and bury his face into your hair. there's an intense urge to ask you to stay building up inside of him, and he clamps his lips shut tightly in order to keep himself from blurting out his plea. the two of you remain in each other's arms before you finally take a deep breath and step away, giving gojo a watery smile.

"i'll miss you, satoru," you whisper, looking away and blinking back your tears. "i'll see you later, yeah?"

gojo nods dumbly as you finally walk away, giving everyone one last wave before slipping into the car that's been waiting for you this entire time. it isn't until he sees it disappear from view that gojo realizes that he didn't tell you that he would miss you too.

he wastes no time in slipping his sunglasses back over his eyes, clearing his throat quietly before turning and making his way back inside the building.

a week later, gojo hears that nanami has left jujutsu tech as well, and he can't help but wonder if he'll ever see either of you again.

gojo likes to think that he's matured, even though shoko might say otherwise because she's certain she's right. and also to piss him off.

but the truth is, he's no longer the same spunky, reckless teenager he was before everything went wrong in his life. he knows how to sort of work through his emotions now— in a way he thinks is healthy, he might add, but he can't help but find himself frozen in this very moment. there's a weird ache in his heart, one that he silently notes seems to be brought on by the flurry of emotions he's feeling in that very instant.

he wonders if they're visible on his face. they are.

gojo satoru is the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer in japan, maybe even in the world, and yet he feels like he's been reduced to almost nothing when a familiar face slides into the seat across from him.

five years is clearly not long enough to forget you, gojo realizes, physically wincing at the way his heart seems to race at the sight of you. his eyes meet yours, and he holds steady eye contact with you for a few seconds before ducking his head and quietly excusing himself from the table.

he takes a deep breath to attempt and soothe his rattled nerves as he takes a seat at the bar, squishing himself into the corner so that he's not visible from your table. he orders a soda from the bartender, ignoring the disbelieving look he gets in return before he ambles off to prepare the drink.

gojo has barely taken a sip of the soda before shoko is crashing into his side, settling onto the barstool next to him and digging her elbow into his side as she calls her order out to the bartender. neither of them speak until shoko gets her drink, and she immediately lifts it to her lips and takes a big sip that makes gojo shudder with disgust.

"surprise," shoko says dryly, glancing at gojo as he spares a look in your direction. he notices three extra people at the table, and he lets his shoulders drop in relief when he sees familiar heads of blond, white, and brunette.

"yeah, quite the surprise," gojo huffs, taking another sip of his soda. he stares at shoko until she turns to face him, a mildly displeased look on her face as she takes in his furrowed eyebrows. "i didn't know you still kept in contact with them."

"i didn't know you didn't still keep in contact with them," shoko shoots back, raising an eyebrow as she studies gojo's conflicted expression. she continues before he can gather his thoughts, earning a loud sigh as she speaks. "you kept in contact with nanami just fine. in fact, all he does is complain about how you never leave him alone."

gojo swallows harshly at shoko's words, and he thinks long and hard before deciding to remain silent for the time being. he can't find it in himself to admit that the thought of reaching out to you hurts him more than he cares to admit. you had left the jujutsu world, the one part of your life that included him, behind. even if he wanted to, gojo doesn't think he can find the words to express how he's feeling.

"switch seats with me when we get back to the table," gojo says suddenly, pausing to slurp up the rest of his drink. shoko glares at him when he sucks on nothing but air, the obnoxious sound causing her to reach over and flick him in the cheek. gojo grins widely when she hits nothing but air, his infinity protecting him from shoko's incredibly violent wrath.

"no," she says, getting off her barstool and picking up her drink. gojo realizes too late that she's heading back to the table, and he scrambles after her in an attempt to get there before her. his attempts are fruitless, and he finds himself awkwardly standing behind shoko's seat as she takes her place two chairs down from you.

gojo acts normal when everyone turns to glance at him, and he stiffly makes his way back to his own seat, avoiding your questioning gaze as he sits down. it takes a second for the table to break out into chatter again, and gojo doesn't hesitate before turning to the seat next to him and striking up a conversation with utahime. he notices mei mei grab your attention out of the corner of his eye, and he can't help but sigh in relief as he focuses on utahime once again, disregarding her annoyed look.

gojo is certain that ignoring you is much easier than dealing with whatever the hell is causing him to feel like he's dying inside.

the days that follow the dinner at the restaurant are unnervingly quiet, and gojo finds himself sitting on his couch and wondering if he should reach out to you.

there are no missions to take at the moment, and gojo is left with nothing to do but stare at his phone and wait for a message that never comes. megumi takes note of his sullen behavior, and although a part of him is curious about gojo's sudden attitude change, he doesn't think he actually cares enough to ask the white-haired sorcerer about what seems to be bothering him.

a few more days pass before gojo ultimately decides that reaching out to you would do more harm than good, especially with the way he completely ignored you at dinner. he's given no time to even think about changing his mind, and the very next day, he's being sent out on yet another mission.

he eventually falls into the same monotonous routine his life had prior to his run-in with you, and he wonders what would've changed if he had decided to take the chance and reach out the day after seeing you. there's a dull ache in his chest that seems to linger even after he makes his decision, and it only seems to get worse whenever shoko deigns to share updates about you with him.

the two of them know that gojo is more than grateful for her updates, even if he refuses to ask about you outright. he's certain that if he were to fully give into his curiosity that his heart would feel like it's giving out on him, and not even shoko's displeased looks are enough for him to get over himself and just ask you directly. he's even stopped pestering nanami, too afraid that he would give in and ask him questions about you.

it isn't until a long time passes (a year and a half; he's kept count) that gojo thinks he's finally getting over it— getting over you. his heart finally starts feeling lighter and breathing becomes a little bit easier and he can't help but think about how silly he was being, staying hung up for so long on somebody who probably never even thought twice about him.

they're small improvements but they're still improvements, and gojo reminds himself of that even as he walks down the busy streets of tokyo. he breathes out a sigh of relief as he slips into the local pharmacy, the cool air conditioning a welcome reprieve from the sticky heat outside.

he mumbles to himself as he moves through the aisles, scanning the shelves as he looks for children's allergy medication. the sudden weather changes had affected megumi and tsumiki in a way none of them had expected, and gojo was left alone to deal with their pitiful sniffles and soft complaints.

"allergy meds," he whispers, reaching out to grab a box only to put it back when it's not the one he's looking for. "there's so much cough syrup, where's the aller—"

"gojo?"

so maybe he hasn't improved, gojo thinks to himself as he freezes up at the sound of your voice. he holds his breath as you approach him, and he squeezes his eyes shut when he feels your sleeve brush against his.

six and a half years isn't enough to forget about you either, it seems.

"it's been a while, huh?" you ask, giving him a soft glance before looking at the shelves in front of you. there's a light hum that escapes your lips as you bend down to grab something before straightening up and holding out a box in your hand. "allergy meds, right?"

gojo nods silently as he takes the box from you, quickly scanning the text on it to make sure it was the right brand. there's an awkward silence as he thinks about what to say, and he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind when you turn your face away from him.

"it's not for me!"

a noise that gojo thinks might be a giggle leaves your lips at his proclamation, and he mentally kicks himself for starting up a conversation with you.

"it's for megumi, right?" you ask softly, unaware of the way gojo's eyes widen at your question. "that zenin kid you took in?"

when you notice gojo's shocked look, you hastily ass onto your statement. "shoko told me about him when i asked about you."

'shoko told me about him when i asked about you.'

gojo thinks he feels his head spin when he hears those words come out of your mind. he does his best to remain calm, reaching out a hand to lean against the shelf comfortably and wincing when he instead knocks down a row of the cough syrups he had been studying earlier.

"uh, fushiguro, actually," he mutters, doing his best to focus on straightening out the products he knocked down. "his dad took his wife's last name or something like that. but yeah, the medicine is for him and his sister."

he finds himself shuffling awkwardly as you look down at your watch, eyes widening slightly when you take note of the time. he watches as you turn to face the shelf behind you, quickly plucking some eye drops off the shelf before turning back to him.

"i have to go, i'm running late for a meeting," you say sheepishly, giving gojo a soft smile. he gives you a half-smile in return, accompanied by a lazy wave as he waits for you to leave. you stand in front of him for a second, hesitating slightly before leaning in and wrapping your arms around him in a quick hug. gojo tenses up in your embrace, his breath catching in his throat and hands freezing mid-air before he hesitantly places them on your back. you pull back slightly after a few seconds, looking up at gojo with a stare that makes his heart feel like it's about to beat out of his chest before you address him once more. "it was nice to see you. we should catch up sometime."

you're gone with a smile and a wave, quickly paying for your eye drops before darting out the door. gojo remains in his spot for five minutes after your departure, only moving when he sees the amused look the cashier seems to be giving him. he doesn't speak as he pays for the allergy medication, and he hastily makes his exit back into the stifling heat. he starts walking down the street as he tucks his change into his pocket, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when his fingers brush against a piece of paper that hadn't bee there before.

there's an annoyed grumble from a passerby when gojo suddenly stops in the middle of the street, his fingers clutching onto the paper that contains very familiar handwriting.

'can't wait to see you again! :)'

the line is followed by what he assumes to be your phone number, and gojo can't help but wonder when you had the chance to write the note. he begins moving down the street again, his steps sluggish as he hesitates near a trash can. before he can think any harder, he lets the paper flutter into wastebasket, only pausing for a brief second before moving away.

not seeing you over the past year and a half made his heart feel lighter, yet all it took was a five minute interaction with you to make his heart feel worse than it ever had before.

the world loves to play cruel jokes on him, gojo thinks.

the past two years have been a whirlwind of chaos and uncertainty, and he's had no time to stop and think about you while dealing with geto, sukuna, and the emergence of the cursed spirit that calls itself mahito.

if he really thinks about it, he's had no time to sit and rest. from geto's attack to yuuta's training to megumi's missions to yuuji's interesting choice that led to him eating sukuna's finger, he's had no time to sit and truly enjoy the little things life has to offer.

(not that he's ever had the time. the life of a special grade sorcerer is a busy one, but gojo can't deny that things weren't always as complicated as they have been the last couple of years.)

so when yaga tells him that nanami is returning to jujutsu tech, gojo thinks that it's the perfect time to let yuuji learn from someone other than him while he takes care of some unfinished business. what he doesn't expect however, is to see you standing next to nanami, a pretty smile on your face as you greet yaga with a hug.

ten years. ten years and somehow, you still manage to make gojo feel the same way he did way back then.

there's something wrong with him, he thinks, especially because it's starting to seem like he's cursed to always somehow coexist with those he cares about without ever fully being a part of their lives. there's no way he can turn around and pretend he never saw you, not with the way yaga is already yelling at him to go over and greet the returners.

gojo wonders why this happens every time he sees you. he doesn't know how to label what he feels whenever you pop up in his life, and it isn't until you give him a hesitant greeting— your tone shy and awkward after receiving nothing but radio silence from him— that gojo thinks he might finally know what it is he feels for you.

and when the thought of him being in love with you crosses his mind and makes him feel like he wants to die, all he can do is tamp down his swirling emotions with a goofy grin aimed at nanami.

"nanami! what a pleasure to see you here," gojo sings, immediately pulling the blond man into a reluctant hug. he gives you a polite nod in greeting, and he can't help the way his heart sinks when you nod in response and look away.

"likewise," nanami replies, his tone strained as he pulls away from gojo. he fixes his shirt as he steps over to you, and the two of you stand silently as you wait for yaga to speak.

"introduce them to yuuji," yaga says, turning around and heading back towards his office. "and don't cause trouble. i mean it, satoru."

gojo giggles at yaga's words before clapping his hands and motioning for the two of you to follow after him, leading you down a series of hallways before you come to a stop in front of an empty room.

"yuuji! there's someone i'd like you to meet!"

you're taken slightly aback when your eyes meet bright, brown ones, and you can't help but stare as a teenage boy with pink hair comes to a stop in front of you and nanami.

"this is nanami kento!" gojo all but yells, once again slinging his arm around nanami's shoulders and swaying him back and forth. the boy, yuuji, looks at nanami curiously, his eyes focused on the glasses perched on his nose. he has no time to speak before gojo is introducing you as well, his voice softer than it had been when introducing nanami. yuuji's eyes sparkle as they shift to you, and all of a sudden he's breaking out into a boyish smile that only serves to remind you just how young he really is.

"woah! i didn't think you were actually real!" he proclaims, earning a strained laugh from gojo. "when gojo mentioned you he said you were really p—"

the rest of his words are muffled, gojo's hands clamped tightly against his mouth as he pulls yuuji away from you. out of the corner of your eye, you can see nanami staring at you, and you only give him a shrug in return as gojo pats yuuji's head and lets him go.

"you'll be following them around on missions," gojo finally explains, pushing yuuji towards you and nanami. "they're both grade 1 sorcerers so don't worry, you'll be safe! now if you'll excuse me, i have to go."

gojo's out of the room before either of you can breathe out a goodbye, and you tense for a second before excusing yourself and following after him. he hasn't gotten terribly far, but his long legs give him the advantage of staying ahead of you even as you start jogging lightly in an attempt to catch up to him.

"gojo!" you call out, huffing lightly when he ignores you and turns a corner. "hey! gojo, wait! satoru!"

the sounds of his given name has his steps faltering, and he reluctantly turns around when he hears your footsteps getting closer and closer. there's a rigidity to his stance that you've never seen, his shoulders hunched in an almost defensive way as you finally come to a stop in front of him.

"yeah?" he asks, an uncomfortable grin settling on his lips as he looks anywhere but you. he's grateful for his blindfold in this very moment, the dark fabric preventing him from seeing you in your entirety and preventing you from seeing the way he can't seem to look at you for more than half a second.

"i—," you say, starting to speak and cutting yourself off before looking down at the ground. you sigh softly, shaking your head lightly as your shoulders slump. "never mind. forget about it."

you turn to walk back to the room, and gojo feels like he might actually keel over and die right then and there if he lets you walk away yet again.

"how have you been?"

gojo's question hangs in the air, and he can't help but flinch when you finally look at him again, your eyes swirling with hurt and sadness and other emotions that pass so quickly that gojo isn't sure he could figure out what they were even if he tried.

"you'd know if you hadn't thrown my phone number away," you retort quietly, crossing your arms as he approaches you. gojo breathes in sharply at your words but remains quiet, his throat going dry as he realizes that you had seen what he did that day. "why, gojo?"

gojo weighs his options, vacillating between telling you the truth or spewing a lie. the words seem to spill out of his mouth before he can even think about whether or not to say them, a trend he notices is extremely common whenever he's in your presence. "because you've ruined my life."

okay, so the truth it is.

your eyes widen in hurt when you take in his words, and it takes everything you have to not burst into tears on the spot. "oh, i see."

"wait," gojo says, scrambling to fix the situation that just keeps getting worse and worse with everything he says or does. "that's not what i meant."

"then what did you mean?" you ask sharply, your eyes narrowing slightly as you stare him down.

"what i mean is that i think i love you," he says in a rush, ignoring the way your eyes widen in surprise at his admission. he doesn't give you the chance to respond, too focused on saying everything that's been building up for the past decade before he gets cold feet. "you've ruined my life, you know? it's been ten years but it's damn near impossible to get over you. my heart still feels as heavy as it did the day you let, maybe even heavier, and i threw away your number because i didn't see any benefit in reaching out to you. why would i torture myself by keeping in contact with you when i belong to the world you wanted to leave behind?"

"i wanted to leave the jujutsu world behind," you interject softly, taking a hesitant step towards gojo before coming to a stop. "that doesn't mean i wanted to leave gojo satoru behind."

"oh," gojo breathes. he wonders if you can hear how loud his heart is beating in his chest, and he decides that maybe he doesn't care. "does that mean that—"

"i liked you?" you interrupt, nodding your head softly. "or like, i guess. i agree, ten years isn't enough to get over you."

"i was talking about you," gojo mumbles dumbly, earning a shrug in response from you. a loud crash sounds from the direction of the room you had left nanami in, and you give gojo a hesitant look before motioning in the direction of the noise.

"i should probably go and check that out," you say quietly, a smile twitching at the corners of your lips. "y'know, make sure that nanami is okay."

"um, yeah. yeah that sounds reasonable," gojo says, his mind still focused on your impromptu confession.

"i don't think this conversation is over yet," you continue, breathing out a laugh when gojo nods in agreement. he jumps slightly when you take his hand in yours, slipping a piece of paper into in before tugging him down to press a kiss to his cheek. "let me know when you're free, yeah? maybe we can get dinner or something and talk."

"are you asking me out on a date?" he asks cheekily, doing his best to compose himself.

"maybe i am," you say slyly, squeezing his hand once before letting go. you turn to walk down the hall, only pausing to look at him over your shoulder once before you turn the corner. "don't lose my number this time, okay?"

gojo chuckles at your words, nodding in agreement as he gives you a lazy salute. "i wouldn't dream of it."

it isn't until you're out of sight that gojo realizes his heart feels the lightest that it's ever felt in years, and he finds himself once again wondering when you had gotten the chance to write the note.

reblogs are appreciated <3 ty for reading !!

[cevansbrat0007]

The Slam

Summary: Ari has had a enough of your TikTok foolishness...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Brat!Reader, Prank Foolishness, References to P in V sex, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Now that you’ve gotten your first TikTok prank under your belt, you found you needed more. It was as if a beast – for lack of better phrasing – had been awoken inside of you. And it demanded that you served the world chaos.

At your man’s expense.

While you’d gone a little bigger the first time around, today you’d decided to dial it back just a touch. Lately you’d been watching videos of women slamming their boyfriend’s and husband’s car door after what seemed to be the most innocent of conversations. 

In retaliation, some of them yelled confused obscenities, or honked horns, others simply appeared content to stew in whatever resentment had already been brewing beneath the surface. 

Regardless, almost all of them were funny. And not only that, but you got the distinct feeling that Ari wouldn’t appreciate it. His truck was precious to him. 

Almost as precious as you. 

This morning you choose to test your luck when Ari is kind enough to drop you by your place so that you can switch out purses and grab your makeup bag before heading out for lunch. You can tell that he doesn’t fully understand the reason you need either of those things. 

In fact, when you told him what you needed, he’d been swift to grunt something to the effect of how you already looked “perfectly good to him as it was”. And although it had made the butterflies in your belly do their special little flutter that was reserved for when you received compliments just from him, you pushed him to make the stop anyway.

In part because you needed those things, but also because you wanted to fuck with him a bit.

“I promise I’ll be super quick.” You tell him, hastily undoing your seatbelt as he pulls up in your driveway. 

“Still don’t get why you needed to come here.” Your bounty hunter was hungry, and therefore also a little grumpy. “You’re already the prettiest little thing I’ve ever set my eyes on without all the extra froufrou shit.”

“You would really have me walk into a restaurant with you with a bare face?”

“Baby, real talk, I’d be proud to have you on my arm if you were wearing nothing but a paper bag.” Comes his quiet, but sincere rebuttal. 

It’s enough to make you melt.

 “You’re sweet.” 

“Uh huh.” He huffs, throwing his truck in park. “And women are weird. Besides, all that makeup looks better on my pillow anyway.”

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to call us weird. Could’ve sworn you were supposed to be intrigued by the feminine mystique.” You tell him, poking him in the ribs for good measure.

“Weird.” Ari huffs again, clearly not moved by your response.  

“Mystique – you jerk.” Feeling slightly miffed, you decide to steal a sip of his water. 

“Can you please just go get the bag and war paint before I waste away from hunger?” You bat his hand away when he leans forward to open your door and usher you out his vehicle. “My stomach is literally trying to eat itself and you wanna fuckin’ argue.” 

“I am capable of opening it myself, thank you very much.” You hiss without any real heat before grabbing the handle.   

“Then I would very much appreciate it if you did that so we can get this show on the road.”

“Okay, okay.” You finally relent. “I’m sorry. Gimme a kiss and I’ll go–”

Ari’s mouth is on yours so fast it’s almost comical. He cups your face with calloused hands, stroking his thumbs across your temples as he does. But unfortunately, just as you’re about to sink into the kiss, he pulls away.

“Now get.” He growls, before opening the door and effectively shooing you out. 

“Fine.” Climbing out of his truck, you decide that this is your moment. “Be right back.” Closing your eyes, you give it up to the Lord before slamming Ari’s door hard. 

Actually a little harder than you intended. Ah, well. 

Grimacing, you begin to half walk, half run for your front door. After all, there was such a thing as being too brave for this world. And you’d actually felt his vehicle rattle with the force with which you’d put behind it. There was no way this man would not respond. There was no way–

“Aye!” Your shoulders automatically hunch of their own volition when you hear him throw open his own door in protest. You haven’t even made it to the front porch. ”The hell was that about?”

“What?” You try to play dumb.

“Bird. Stop.” 

It’s the calm authority in his voice that has you freezing in your tracks. It’s the same reason your panties are soaked too. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you turn around and face Ari.

“What–”

“I’m gonna need you to walk your pretty little ass back over here, baby.” He quirks a tawny brow when your legs don’t immediately start moving. “Now.”    

“Beast, I need to go inside and–”

“Ass. Here. Now. Please.” Ari tacks on the last word when he sees you frown. However, the frown stays in place as you march back over to where he’s standing, or now leaning, against the side of his truck.

“Thank you.” He grunts before cupping your cheek, drawing you forward. “Now, is there a reason you’re out here slammin’ my shit and spikin’ my blood pressure? Does this have somethin’ to do with that whole feminine mystique business again?”

As he talks, you find it hard to resist the urge to run your fingers through his newly shorn beard. You’d hung out in the bathroom with him this morning while he trimmed it, wearing nothing but a pair of panties and one of his shirts. 

“No.” You breathe, your nostrils flaring when that same hand moves, gently lacing itself around your throat.

“You pissed at me for somethin’?” His electric blue eyes search yours for answers.

“Um…nope.” 

“You tryin’ to pick a fight?”

“Also no.” You tell him as your hand comes up to wrap around his thick wrist. “It was a joke I saw on TikTok and–.”

“Christ, I’m gonna stop you.” Ari blinks twice before forcing himself to take a deep breath. “Since you and I don’t have a problem, I’m gonna let you go inside and fetch your things. You have five minutes, or I’m comin’ in after you.”

“To do what?” You can’t help the pout that forms on your lips. Sometimes this man really had no sense of humor. “Because I‘m gonna need more time than that to put on my face.”

The look this man gives you lets you know that you are absolutely trying his patience – every last piece of it. 

“You got five minutes.” Ari repeats, his thumb stroking over your pulse point. “Or I’m gonna come in there and personally take my time making sure all that makeup ends up in its proper place where it belongs.” 

“But that’s not fair!”

“Neither is subjecting me to shit you see on that damned hickory dickory dock crap you watch all the time, and yet here we are.” He leans down to brush his lips against your forehead. “Now go.”

Ari finally releases you before pulling out his phone, and it takes him only a second for him to show it to you, letting you see that he’s started a timer. And it is quickly counting down. 

“You got five minutes, sweetheart.” He winks at you then, before breaking into full blown laughter when you turn to make a break for your front door. “Otherwise I’m comin’ in after you, and it’s gonna be what it’s gonna be.” 

Forget the purse. You decide you’re better off snagging the makeup and beating it back to the truck before the timer strikes zero.   

“Bastard.” You grumble under your breath – which only makes him laugh harder.

“You just lost yourself thirty seconds for that one. Better run, Bird.” 

END

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[mythalism]

i think what people need to understand is that no amount of essays assuring me of veilguard's strengths, of which i agree there are plenty, is going to change the fact that the emotional experience veilguard prompted within me (and for many others) while i played it was a deeply negative one. discomfort at best, painful at worst. im talking stomach aches. visceral, somatic creeping disappointment and dread that i tried to fight for hours and hours but eventually had no choice but to accept. i stopped wanting to play entirely around 30 hours. i felt vaguely ill. i felt anxious. i could not sleep for a few days. and im not saying i felt sick because it was so bad, but that i felt sick because of the sinking realization that i was about to be terribly, horribly disappointed after so, so long. you could call me dramatic and im sure someone will. idk what to tell you. my emotions manifest physically long before they become decipherable or understandable to me mentally, especially when they're 10 years in the making. probably an autism symptom. regardless, it was genuinely pretty awful, especially because i had immense good faith for this game. i was so hopeful and optimistic and generally thrilled and literally anyone who followed me before october 31 would know that. the emotional whiplash and crash was intense and devastating, and i was reeling for days. you cannot tell me that this experience was "wrong" or "toxic" due to it's negative nature. it was entirely involuntary and outside of my control, as i would expect many people's joy was. emotional reactions are not beholden to fandom discourse.

any post i have made criticizing the game since is attempt to make sense of the emotional roller-coaster of the past 10 years, this summer, and finally this game's release. i do not come on here and write out my criticisms of veilguard because i want YOU to dislike it too. the nature of my essays are not persuasive. if they do persuade you its just because i am a well-trained essayist. sorry. if they dont, great! that wasnt the point. i have no desire to change anyone's mind on the game, in fact i actually would not wish the disappointment i felt on anyone. the fact that i have a lot of followers who agree with what i say and who spread the thoughts i express across tumblr is literally out of my control. when i write out my long-winded criticisms, it is out of a need to express and externalize that sinking, cold feeling i had while playing, in pursuit of understanding exactly why playing that game felt that way to me. identifying, analyzing and verbalizing is the only way i have been able to process my experience. its confessional and therapeutic more than anything. it helps other people understand their own difficult emotional process with the game. its not an attempt to ruin your fun. my negative experience with veilguard does not invalidate anyone else's positive one.

i see so many posts acting like all criticism is an intentional, targeted hate campaign and i dont understand that assumption. to what ends? what would that achieve? why would i bother with such a thing? maybe that is some people's intention in the deep hater corners of this website, and im blissfully unaware. if it is, fuck them. its certainly the intention of annoying grifters, but i feel the distinction between transphobe grifters and devastated fans is pretty clear, so im not sure why the lines are deliberately blurred as if those groups are remotely similar. some of my criticisms come from a more objective place. the writing comes to mind, and it's a consistent criticism from thousands of players. but just because i consider it to be poorly executed, does not make it unlovable. and when i say that i think its poorly done, i am not saying that you cannot or should not love it, or that you are stupid for loving it. maybe someone out there is saying that!!! but i am not. things do not have to be perfect to be enjoyable. they dont even have to be well executed to be enjoyable. "i think x aspect of veilguard is poorly done for yz reasons" is a completely different sentence than "you should not like x aspect of veilguard for yz reasons". these are not the same statements. i see so many posts that are so vitriolic and acting like two experiences of this game cannot coexist, that one has to win and be objectively right, moralizing them on a false axis of positivity = good and negativity = bad, and acting like the existence of one negates the experience of the other. and why? why would that be true? i literally love so many things that other people think are absolute ass. i also love plenty of things that i myself think are actual ass. i love them anyway. this is allowed and really fun. i am not sure who told you that it is not.

however, i have just as much of a right to express my disappointment as you have to express your excitement. i am genuinely happy for everyone who loves the game, i am glad it resonated, or that you saw yourself in its characters, or that it just scratched your hyperfixation itch. but whatever je ne se quoi it had for you, it did not have for me. i have written out so much criticism about so many aspects of the game, but fundamentally what it comes down to and what i cannot express in words is that while i played after waiting 10 years for that moment, it felt wrong. it wasn't that i had specific expectations for game story that were not met, in fact, it exceeded my expectations in a lot of ways. i mean that in terms of how i felt, something was off. it did not resonate. it did not land. it did not hit the right cord with me. i did not have enough moments of joy to outweigh the feeling of emptiness. i did not walk away from it feeling the way that the previous games made me feel. and ive been trying to figure out exactly why that is for three months now by talking about it with people who feel similarly. i am not sure that i will ever be able to analyze my way into figuring it out. it might just have to simply be that it left me bereft.

and so my posts are not anti-veilguard hater propaganda to make you feel like shit for loving the game. rather, they are me verbally processing exactly why i feel like shit so i can hopefully stop feeling like shit. to assume that people who are trying to process these negative feelings are toxic and intentionally malicious is a projection made in bad faith. i love dragon age, and it is because i love it so much that it disappointed me, and it is because disappointed me that i have to verbally process it on tumblr.com so that i dont go absolutely insane. i tag my posts properly. i do not go into tags where i do not belong. i do not rage-bait. i am participating in post-partum dragon age therapy between me and my followers. if it ends up on your dash, sorry. my therapy is popular i guess. so please for the love of god enjoy the game, freely and enthusiastically. i am happy for you. i will sit here and be jealous that it spoke to something in your soul that it unfortunately did not speak to in mine, and nothing i say can take that away from you. please stop interpreting it as an attempt to.

[allaboutthemoonlight]

How to Master Motivation

Hi friends,

Today I want to talk about motivation and finding ways to maintain it in our daily lives. Motivation is a crucial factor that drives us to achieve our goals, overcome challenges, and stay committed to our development.

Understand the locus of control

Our locus of control, internal or external, is the degree to which we believe we have control over what happens to us in our lives. It influences how we respond to circumstances that impact us and how motivated we feel to take action.

An external locus of control is when we believe that our life and the outcomes we experience are a result of external forces beyond our power. We think everything that happens to us occurs because of chance or luck—two things we can’t control.

The key to staying motivated is to develop an internal locus of control. This is when we believe that we’re responsible for the things happening to us and understand that we have control over the outcome. It’s a level of self-determination where we realize our efforts, decisions, and habits create the life we live.

So, how do we adopt an internal locus of control?

The first point I want to emphasize is that, regardless of your perception of how much control you have over your life, the amount of work you put into something is always within your control. The first step is to abandon the mindset that everything is left up to chance and, because of this, you should stop trying. You need to understand that you always have some level of power over your circumstances, even if you’ve been told otherwise:

Be more aware of the choices you make and realize there is always a choice to be made.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help or guidance from those around you.

Spend time self-reflecting and trying to understand yourself better. Reflect on previous instances where you’ve felt a lack of control and write down what could have been done instead.

Don’t be afraid to fail; it’s an opportunity to learn.

Know the different types of motivation

Next, I want to talk about the different types of motivation and how they impact you.

There are 4 different types of motivation, each with their own distinctions:

Intrinsic motivation: This is where you do something because it aligns with your values or just because it’s fun. Although it’s good to have intrinsic motivation, this type is fragile and can be undermined when we start feeling like we’re losing autonomy over our choices.

Extrinsic motivation: This is what most people think of when they imagine motivation. It’s when our motivation comes from outside of us—we’re doing something for a reward or to avoid a punishment. It’s the opposite type of motivation that you should seek if you want to be self-driven.

Introjected: This type of motivation can create resentment or tension. We do something because if we don’t, we’ll feel shameful or guilty. For example, you might go to the gym not because you enjoy it or care about the health benefits, but because you feel guilty if you don’t work out.

Identified: The reason you’re doing something is because it aligns with your idealized self. It’s something that you’ve internalized to be important and allows you to behave in accordance with your self-concept and identity. This is the most important type because it creates habitual behaviors are no longer choices. We understand our identity and that certain habits and behaviors need to be done so that we’re constantly aligned with our higher selves. For example, you might regularly volunteer at a local shelter or organization because you’re someone who values compassion and community service.

So, how can we implement identified motivation more into our lives?

Really try and understand the reasoning behind a goal you want to achieve. Ask yourself “why do you actually want this thing?”. This is also a good time to review your values and whether or not your goal aligns with them.

Constantly remind yourself about why the outcome matters to you because we often forget the reason that we started in the first place. —ex.

Like James Clear said, make your goal, system, habit, or whatever you’re wanting to accomplish more motivating or fun. Beyond that, start associating the reward with the challenge itself. If you’re training for a marathon, instead of seeing the finish line as the only reward, find or fulfillment in the training process and the discipline you developed along the way.

Adopt a positive mindset. Rather than complaining about having to workout in the morning or studying for an exam, start saying “I get to study for this exam and further my education” or “I’m blessed to have a body that works for me and allows me to exercise”. It’s all about perspective and embracing gratitude. If you put half the energy that you use from complaining into figuring out how to take the next step, you’ll accomplish a lot more.

Don’t neglect your emotional and mental health

Slumps are very real, and mental health can impact every aspect of motivation. Self-improvement and changing your life aren’t easy journeys by any means, and there will be times when stress and feelings of being overwhelmed can paralyze you. In these moments, it’s critical to take a break, a breather, or anything that can help reset your mental health. Remember to engage in activities that support your emotional needs. Not every second of the day needs to be spent doing something productive or working toward your goals. It’s okay to take breaks and have rest days; in fact, I think it’s crucial.

Reward yourself often, even for the smallest achievements. It’s not about what you completed, but the fact that you completed something at all. Spend time acknowledging your accomplishments.

Take it one step at a time and remember no action is too small. Starting small is what helps us build consistency in the long run.

Embrace positive self-talk. Avoid talking yourself into a negative spiral, as it will only make you lose motivation and put you in a slump.

Get an accountability partner. Having someone in your corner who will cheer for you and keep you accountable is a game changer.

Stay motivated, stay grateful, stay resilient.

Love,

Luna<3

[sageadvice]

I use a very simple philosophy to distinguish between Caterina, Illario, and Lucanis’ motivations when I’m writing my wips. I’m not sure it’s canon, or that anyone else would agree, but it helps me keep them on their three distinct tracks and makes the conflicts between them make sense in my mind.

It comes down to how they each, individually, view the Crows: Business vs Family.

- Caterina sees the Crows as Strictly Business. The Crows are her job, and in order to be good at her job she has, regrettably, sacrificed or unwillingly lost almost all of her Family. But Lucanis and Illario are not Business, they are Family, and even when she hasn’t treated them as such that’s how she views them, and why she would act seemingly out of character when it comes to them. I believe she allows Teia in on this Family definition too, a little bit, though she would not admit it.

(Viago also sees the Crows as Strictly Business. He gets tugged into Teia’s orbit more than he would prefer, but left alone too long and he falls back on the old habits of, this is just a job for me and has nothing to do with my private life.)

- Illario sees the Crows as Family. For him, none of this is Business—it’s all personal. In this Family, you can of course kill your cousin to get ahead! He doesn’t want him to suffer, of course, but that’s just how they operate. It’s how all the Crows in their Family line, all the past Talons and Matriarchs and Patriarchs operated too. He’s never had a job, because he is too devoted to the Family. It’s the Mafia. It’s his whole world, all he wants and has ever wanted.

(Teia, interestingly, is the opposite side of this coin. She too sees the Crows as her Family, but unlike Illario she wants to shape them into a much different ideal of what a Family looks like, not adhere to past traditions where they can all just kill one another with no consequences. This invariably frustrates Viago, who would prefer they keep their business and pleasure separate.)

- Lucanis, however, struggles with this: he wants to separate them, but he can’t, and neither idea dominates. He wants to have his Grandmother and Cousin as only Family, not Business, because he likes his work and he’s good at it, but it is also a source of trauma for him now. He and Illario had the same upbringing. Caterina is his Boss. Unfortunately, they are both, and sometimes he falls into one way of responding to issues, as though the matter is a personal Family problem, and sometimes he responds as though it’s all Business, cut and dry. He is unable to leave the Crows completely because he worries he will lose all the Family he has left if he does, but it is still just a job in many ways.

This is also the main reason I can put Lucanis in the seat of First Talon and understand how it works. Lucanis has to lead these people, all of whom fall one way or the other, and he is truly able to see both sides of people’s motivations. And, at the same time, unlike Illario, he does not value the way the Crows have operated in the past. He sees no glory or honor in killing to get ahead. Killing, as he repeatedly says, is something he wants to think about only as work, with proper compensation; nothing personal. Illario cemented Lucanis’ inability to adhere to traditions of their organization with his actions, but that train really started running with the death of their parents and was fueled along by Caterina’s “training.”

Anyway, I find them all fascinating and feel free to correct me if anything is off about my thought processes. Theres more to say about how Spite factors into all of this, and Rook, regardless of whether you romance him, I just don’t have those thoughts cemented yet.

[altis-of-olympia]

A conversation about King Zeus and Queen Hera's relationship. And a narrative on why we can't read the mythos and perceive them as truth.

Come with me on a bit of a journey.

Throughout modern media and historical accounts, we see that King Zeus and Queen Hera have a marriage that can only be described as tumultuous. King Zeus, a known cheater and liar, married to Queen Hera, his sister, and the Goddess of Marriage and Fidelity. Women prayed to Queen Hera to be blessed with a Marriage unlike Her own - one of faith, one of trust. One of reciprocity.

King Zeus is depicted in mythos as being disrespectful of His Wife. In Homer's Iliad, we see several instances in which Queen Hera attempts to revolt against His word, and very quickly, She is punished or shot down. King Zeus ruled over Her with an Iron Fist, as was expected of the Patriarch of the Ancient Greek Household. Especially Kings.

Not acknowledging this fact would be negligent. The Ancient Greek Household had a very particular rule of order - especially amongst royalty. A King ruled over all, his Wife was to listen, and the children were to fall in line. This was the standard for the time.

However, times have changed. With this change, the perception of their relationship must change. In the modern era, the relationship between man and woman looks much different. At least, the ideal looks different.

The newer generation values a relationship where both parties, regardless of sex or gender, are equals. There is no distinct breadwinner, there is no distinct person who "wears the pants" unless otherwise communicated. And King Zeus and Queen Hera reflect this. I have spent plenty of time with the two of them as of late, and they are nothing like the myths depict. King Zeus speaks highly of His Wife. And the few conversations I've had with Queen Hera, She sings His praises, just as He does for her.

Now, in terms of mythology itself...

Here is how I break it down.

Let us say, for the sake of examples, you have a governing document written 400 years ago. It was written based on the ideals of the people 400 years ago, what they needed, wanted, and what they thought was best. And they never changed them. Sure, the document has been translated time and time again as the language becomes more ancient, but other than this, they don't touch it.

Now, 400 years later, in a developed society with new ideals and new ideologies based on that of the old, you have two options. You can either take the document as it is, literally with zero nuance. Or, you can look at it as a breathing document and shape it to fit the ideals of the new society you live in.

This is how people tend to look at mythology. Mythic Literalists, and Mythic Revisionists, as I'll call it. Mythic Literalists will take a work of mythology and look at it as it was written. King Zeus betrayed Queen Hera time and time again, and Queen Hera made the women He slept with face Her wrath rather than confronting King Zeus Herself. A Mythic Revivalist will take this and say that, yes, King Zeus did betray Queen Hera, and She did make other women face Her wrath. What is the allegory behind this? What is the message?

Taking Mythology at face value is what turns people against certain Gods and leads to villainization. The amount of people who turn their heads away from King Zeus due to the stigma that He's a horrible God who rules with an Iron First is astounding. They victimize other Gods like Queen Persephone and may claim She is unhappy as Queen of the Underworld. This is definitively false - both of these narratives. Which is why Mythic Revision is important to understanding the Gods in our modern day.

May I leave you with a bit of homework, so to speak. What is your favorite myth, how did you view it before, and how would you view it after the modern application of it? I look forward to hearing your points of view.

[liberalk1tsch]

How do you feel about people equating Katniss’ depression after Prim’s death to her mother’s own after her father’s, and the abandonment that resulted from it?

oh i can feel this is gonna be a long one.

there's two things i want to be very clear about.

the likelihood of katniss having the same mental illness as her mother is extremely high; they both present with near-identical symptoms. i think they definitely suffer from the same illness.

however

2. their situations are entirely different and deserve to be treated as such.

katniss' catatonic depression comes after losing her sister, the person who — in catching fire — she describes as the only person in the world that she's 100% certain that she loves.

asterid's first episode that we know of occurs directly after burdock's death.

while both of them have surviving loved ones after these deaths, there's a distinct difference in their support systems and availability of treatment.

in regards to asterid, it is extremely abnormal that she doesn't have any sort of support system. as someone who grew up in poverty myself, that's not really how impoverished communities work. typically, the only reason people wouldn't keep reaching out to help a family in need is if you are actively pushing them away, which we know to be a canon character trait for asterid.

(my dear friend and go-to expert on all things appalachia @loungemermaid does a great job of discussing the specifics of that within appalachian communities in this post, and asterid's role further down in this post.)

this likely results from her own issues with her parents, as she contextually appears to be disowned by them entirely, so she struggles to allow herself to grow close with others in her personal relationships because she herself has been abandoned and thereby developed an inherent fear that to grow close to someone is to put herself at risk for getting hurt.

from what we know, it seems as if asterid is that one girl who doesn't maintain her friendships once she finds her partner and essentially cuts herself off. i won't pretend to know if this is on purpose or not, but i will reiterate that poor communities tend to do a great job at reaching out to each other, so even if her town friends shunned her, there probably wasn't a lack of people willing to be in her network. keeping in mind she lived in the seam for at least 11 years before burdock died and had plenty of time to establish herself in the community. maybe this is because of her own trauma, maybe not, but regardless, it would make burdock's death all the more painful if he was really her only person (and based on the text, it seems like he is).

the issue is that she didn't exclusively have herself to think about. i'm not a parent myself so i won't pretend to be an expert on something i've never experienced, but i don't feel i need to give birth myself to know that the second you're planning on carrying a child to term, you don't get to be selfish anymore. you do what's best by your kid, even if it's intimidating for you.

i can understand that she couldn't "snap out of it" per say when she went catatonic. most people can't. additionally, i empathise with her in that she didn't have the proper medication to treat herself.

that being said, she had years to build a network for her family in the event that something drastic like this should happen (and based on what we know, it seems like a relatively common occurence) and didn't. whit put it best when they said "Asterid is still just a little girl, trapped in her own trauma, in her own head, where a single choice that her parents didn’t agree with means they didn’t love her anymore. It’s a cycle. It’s a shame. She could’ve broken the cycle. She could’ve called out for help, from someone. She didn’t."

when i studied nursing, one of the first things we learned was how impactful a patient's community and network can be on their outcomes and recovery. as a healer, asterid would know this. it's no secret in the medical community, no matter how high your education goes. it is one of the most basic aspects of patient history to take note of. but she doesn't develop that for herself or her girls. whether by hubris that they wouldn't need it, or apprehension at going out of her own comfort zone, i don't know.

and so her daughters are neglected. they nearly starve to death, and katniss is forced to assume the archetype of the parentified eldest daughter. from the time she is 11, she always has someone to take care of.

neglect does not have to be intentional to be neglect.

even after asterid gets better and begins medicating herself, she is still highly dependent on katniss for tessarae, hunting, gathering, etc. it's only after they're taken in by 13 and asterid is given a proper job that she's able to support herself, hence why it's so different when katniss falls into her depression following prim's death: katniss has nobody to take care of but herself. she's allowed to be selfish and wallow in her grief.

haymitch is drunk at home. peeta's in the capitol. finnick's dead. prim too. gale's in 2. and asterid . . . asterid has abandoned her for real this time.

there's no catatonia to blame it on either. yes, asterid's grieving. it's understandable why she doesn't want to return to 12. but she's fully medicated, and she has a minor daughter who's deeply traumatised and experiencing her own catatonia. she needs her mother now more than ever.

but she's not there for her.

she leaves without so much as a goodbye. doesn't even wait around to see to it that her only living daughter isn't going to be executed for murder. and she chooses to do this when everyone else who loves katniss is either in treatment themselves (peeta in therapy in the capitol, haymitch self-medicating, etc.) or dead. sae and buttercup are the only reasons katniss stays alive in the months before peeta returns to 12. but even then, we have no way of knowing if that was at asterid's request (personally, i think it's haymitch's).

she pushes katniss away one final time. maybe it's because she reminds her too much of burdock with her looks and her voice. reminds her too much of prim as her only surviving daughter. then again, maybe not. the amount of canon information we have on her is abysmal. either way, she projects her abandonment on her daughter and katniss once again nearly dies as a result.

basically this is all a very long-winded for me to say that while i think they have the same illness, their situations aren't particularly comparable, and their relationship is complicated, to say the very least.

[dunmeshistash]

different person, but about the hares/rabbit thing: I always thought that it was supposed to be an in-universe misconception. When we first encounter them in the manga, Laios talks about having heard about them but that their existence was basically considered a rumour. It's somewhat implied that whoever survived a dungeon rabbit attack to tell others about them didn't exactly have much time to get a good looj at them and/or had to keep a great distance between them and the rabbits. It would be perfectly understandable for them to mistake them for rabbits and use that to describe them to others.

And since, as you pointed out, monsters aren't supposed to be 1:1 to the animals they represent, I think it would make sense for the characters to just stick with the name "Dungeon rabbits" regardless of whether any of them even notice that they look more like hares. They're not either of those animals anyways, it doesn't really matter as long as they have a name to categorize them!

I think this goes with the way Kui tends to do worldbuilding, since we've seen the characters have misconceptions about various things throughout the story

That's a good point! Most people don't even know what they look like properly nor how they attack

I'll add @heattth 's reply from the original post cause it's also interesting

heattth My understanding is that Japanese just don't make a categorical distinction between rabbit and hare. They are just variations of the animals called 兎. The Dungeon Rabbits were based on a 兎 that happens to be a hare. This sort of different way to categorize things happens a lot across languages. I know most English speakers will insist that toes are not fingers (and some will say even thumbs aren't fingers) but plenty other languages will say of course toes are fingers, they are just feet-fingers. We know the different between fingers and toes, but that doesn't mean they are in different categories altogether, they are just variations on "finger". For another animal example, I know a lot of English speakers will often correct you if you call a chimpanzee a monkey (even native English speakers will still instinctively call a chimpanzee a monkey), but in Japanese it is all just 猿. Same in Portuguese, we call them all 'macacos'.

heattth As for weather the translation is correct, the fact the author herself chose it doesn't necessitar mean much. She is not a fluent English speaker (and is not good even reading, to my understanding) and this is not exactly a proper name, more of a descriptive name, so she could have made a mistake. It is possible she didn't even consider the English hare/rabbit distinction in the first place. That said, I agree it is probably for the sake of the Monty Pyton reference, so using the same word is fine. And, like, the animals are very similar anyway so even in English speaking forums not many people brought the discrepancy up.

The way Kui translates is kinda awkward too tbh "Rabbit of Dungeon" so it is possible she missed that translation detail, but it still fits.

Anyway we still have my best friends, the flyng pig and the man-eating tree

[jellyfishsthings]

The Unveiled Truth

Warnings: pure angst, no this is actually heart breaking, no you don't understand, hurt no comfort type of fic ... what was i thinking, plz have tissues near (i was going through a faze okay?), um lumax angst aw well i guess, Steve is devestated in this, no really like i wanted to give him a hug, Vecna attack, um the reader has a similar character to Max's this is extremely long ... just saying

The flickering fluorescent lights of the Hawkins lab cast long, distorted shadows across the linoleum floor. Dust motes danced in the weak beams, mirroring the chaotic swirl of emotions in Steve Harrington’s chest. It had been weeks since they’d barely clawed their way out of the Upside Down, weeks since they’d witnessed the sickening, bone-twisting assault on you by Vecna. Weeks, and he still couldn’t shake the image of your limbs contorting in unnatural ways, the guttural scream that had been ripped from your throat, a sound that still echoed in his nightmares.

You have been one of them for a while now. You were a force of nature, a whirlwind of sharp wit and unwavering defiance. You were a stark contrast to sweet, gentle Nancy, your fiery spirit a roaring flame compared to her quiet, methodical demeanor. While Nancy's strengths lay in her calm precision and calculated bravery, yours burned hotter, fierce and unrelenting. You could sense the lingering tension in Steve’s gaze when Nancy was around, a subtle indication that he might not have fully let go of his feelings for her. Jealousy simmered quietly within you, a tight knot you hid so well that no one could tell. It wasn’t Nancy’s fault—she had her own burdens to bear—but you couldn’t help but wonder if Steve still compared you to her in fleeting moments. The thought stung, yet you masked it with your trademark sarcasm and fiery determination, ensuring no one—not even Steve—saw the cracks beneath the surface.

You had always smelled like cherries and vanilla, a scent so distinctively you that it drove Steve crazy every time he was close enough for it to flood his senses, making him wonder if your lips would taste the same way. It was intoxicating, a subtle reminder of your presence that lingered even after you were gone. Your wardrobe seemed to consist almost exclusively of navy blue, your favorite color, a choice that made you stand out without even trying. The kids would always tease you for your obsession with sour candy, a snack you carried around like a lifeline. But you balanced it with a nurturing side, peeling fruit for the younger ones to ensure they got something with vitamins. These quirks made you uniquely you, an anchor for the group and for Steve, who found himself drawn to every small, vibrant detail of your character.

You had always seemed to be more like Max, ever since kindergarten when you had broken a boy's nose because he made fun of your braids. Why hadn’t he noticed you then? Yes you were a little weird and maybe a bit mean.. But it was you. You were sharp-edged and fiercely independent, but while Max’s wit was tempered by a quiet vulnerability, yours burned hotter, untamed and unapologetic. It was this fiery kinship that had drawn you together like magnets, each recognizing a kindred spirit in the other. Over time, your relationship had deepened, evolving from an unspoken understanding to something more familial. When Max’s world crumbled and she was left without a guardian, you had stepped in without hesitation, becoming her legal guardian and fierce protector. You were her anchor in the storm, her unwavering constant, and she was your reminder of why you fought so hard. Together, you were a force to be reckoned with, two flames burning brightly in defiance of the darkness.

But that was what made you, you. You were the one who didn’t back down, who spoke your mind regardless of the consequences, and you were always, always ready to fight. To Steve, you felt like a gasp of fresh air after years of suffocating in familiar routines. You cracked jokes during the most intense moments, somehow managing to lighten the weight of what they were facing. He found himself looking forward to those moments, to your sarcastic jabs and the way your eyes would glint with both mischief and determination. He had started to feel something akin to… well, he wouldn’t admit it, even to himself. Not yet.

It all happened so fast …

The nightmarish screeches of the demobats filled the air as Eddie swung his guitar in wide arcs, trying to fend them off. Their leathery wings beat furiously around him, teeth snapping inches from his face. He was holding his ground—for now—but it wouldn’t last much longer.

“Eddie!” you yelled, your voice cutting through the chaos. You were already moving, weaving between vines and broken debris as you fought your way toward him.

Eddie turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes wide with panic. “Don’t! Stay back!” he shouted, desperation clear in his tone.

But you ignored him, your focus locked on the swarm closing in. As one of the bats lunged for his neck, you threw yourself forward, your shoulder colliding with Eddie’s and sending him sprawling to the ground. The bat’s jaws snapped shut on empty air, and you didn’t waste a second.

Grabbing a fallen metal rod, you swung it with all your strength, the improvised weapon connecting with a sickening crunch. The demobat shrieked and veered off, but more were coming.

“Get up!” you barked at Eddie, glancing over your shoulder. “We have to move!”

Eddie scrambled to his feet, his breathing ragged. “You didn’t have to—”

“Less talking, more running!” you cut him off, shoving him toward the others. Another bat dove toward you, its claws grazing your arm, but you swung again, warding it off.

Eddie hesitated, his eyes darting between you and the swarm. “I can’t just leave you!”

“I’ll be right behind you,” you promised, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was true. “Go, Eddie!”

You followed a step behind, the demobats still on your heels. One managed to latch onto your leg, its claws digging into your skin, but you kicked it off with a grunt of pain, the adrenaline dulling the worst of it. Quickly catching up to him.

Eddie kept his running pace closer to yours, not wanting to leave you alone again, his expression a mix of relief and guilt. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly.

You managed a weak grin, wiping blood from your cheek. “Sure I did. Couldn't let you miss your encore, could I?”

Despite the chaos still raging in the Upside Down, Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your smile fading as you looked toward the dystopian scenery, where the battle was far from over, desperately trying to find the others. “But you’re alive. That’s what matters.”

Steve was slicing through a tangle of vines with his axe, his face streaked with sweat and grime. Nancy fired off rounds from her shotgun, keeping the advancing creatures at bay.

“Where the hell have you two been?” Steve demanded, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder.

“Saving his ass!” you shot back, dropping beside Robin, who was crouched behind a pile of rubble. Your arms were shaking from exertion, but you tightened your grip on the pipe, ready for the next wave.

Eddie sank to his knees, panting. “She’s insane,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Ran straight into a swarm of those things.”

Steve’s eyes flicked to you, a mix of anger and relief. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome,” you quipped, wincing as you wiped blood from your arm.

Nancy reloaded her shotgun, her expression grim. “We can’t stay here much longer. This place is crawling.”

“Then we fight our way out,” Steve said, his jaw clenched. He turned to you and Eddie. “Stay close. No more heroics.”

Eddie gave a weak laugh. “I think she used up all the heroics anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, another shriek echoed through the air. The swarm wasn’t done yet.

“Here we go again,” you muttered, rising to your feet. Whatever came next, you weren’t letting anyone else fall—not on your watch.

But then, Vecna happened.

It had started as a faint, ominous vibration in the air, an unnatural hum that seemed to press against their skin and burrow into their bones. Steve remembered the way you had frozen, your head snapping toward the source of the sound before anyone else had noticed. Your sharp intuition had always been unnervingly accurate, and in that moment, it had been no different. “He’s here,” you had whispered, your voice taut with dread, and Steve had felt the icy grip of fear coil around his heart.

The fight had erupted in a whirlwind of chaos. The Upside Down’s twisted, labyrinthine landscape seemed to come alive, vines slithering and snapping like serpents, the air thick with the stench of decay and ozone. Vecna’s presence was a palpable force, a suffocating weight that bore down on all of them. He had emerged from the shadows, his towering form grotesque and nightmarish, a grotesque mockery of humanity with his skeletal frame and raw, pulsating flesh. His voice, deep and resonant, had filled the air, a chilling blend of mockery and menace that sent shivers down Steve’s spine.

You had been the first to charge, your fierce determination blazing like a beacon in the suffocating darkness. Steve had shouted for you to wait, to come back, but you hadn’t listened. You never did. Armed with nothing but your wit, a spiked bat, and an iron will, you had hurled yourself at Vecna with a defiance that took Steve’s breath away.

“You’re not taking any more of us!” you had snarled, swinging the bat with all your strength. The strike had connected, sending a sharp crack through the air, but Vecna barely flinched. Instead, he had turned his hollow, glowing eyes on you, a slow, sinister smile spreading across his inhuman face.

“Foolish,” he had hissed, his voice slithering into their ears like venom.

Then it began. Steve would never forget the way the air around you seemed to ripple, the invisible tendrils of Vecna’s power wrapping around you like a vice. Your body had gone rigid, your eyes wide with a mixture of terror and defiance as you struggled against the invisible force. Steve had lunged forward, desperate to reach you, but the vines had come alive, ensnaring him and the others, holding them back as they watched in horror.

“No! Let her go!” Steve had shouted, his voice raw with desperation. He had thrashed against the vines, his hands bloodied from trying to tear himself free, but it was useless. Vecna’s power was absolute, a cruel, unyielding force that left them helpless.

Your screams had shattered the air, a sound so raw and primal that it cut through Steve like a knife. He had watched, paralyzed, as your limbs contorted at impossible angles, your body lifted off the ground as if you were a puppet on invisible strings. Blood had streamed from your nose, your mouth, your eyes, the brutal display a horrifying testament to Vecna’s power.

Even in the midst of your agony, you had fought. Steve could see it in your eyes, the fierce determination that refused to be snuffed out, a quality so reminiscent of Max’s own indomitable spirit. It was as if every challenge you faced only stoked the fire within you, a fire that had drawn Max to you in the first place. That shared intensity had been a cornerstone of your relationship, creating a bond that transcended mere friendship. Max had once confided in Steve, admitting that seeing you fight so fearlessly reminded her of the strength she’d always aspired to have. It wasn’t just admiration—it was a sense of kinship, a shared understanding of what it meant to stand tall in the face of despair. That similarity had driven you to become her protector, her legal guardian when she needed someone most. And now, as Steve looked at you, even amidst your pain and brokenness, he saw that same fiery defiance burning bright, refusing to be extinguished even by the horrors of Vecna’s wrath. You had spat defiance at Vecna, your voice trembling but unbroken. “You’ll… never… win,” you had managed to choke out, your words a final act of rebellion.

Vecna’s laugh had been a terrible, hollow sound. “Oh, but I already have,” he had replied, and with a final, brutal twist of his hand, he had sent you crashing to the ground, broken and motionless.

Time seemed to stretch into an eternity as Steve stumbled forward, his vision blurred by tears and the harsh glow of the Upside Down’s crimson skies. Steve had felt the world collapse around him. The moment Vecna released his hold, the vines had slackened, and Steve had stumbled forward, his knees hitting the ground as he skidded to your side. He had gathered your limp body into his arms, his hands trembling as he cradled you against him. Your skin had been cold, your breaths shallow and ragged. “Hey, hey, stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “You can’t… you can’t leave us. You can’t leave me.”

There was blood everywhere, staining your navy blue jacket and pooling on the ground beneath you. Steve’s heart pounded in his chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the chaos around him. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

“Stay with me,” he had pleaded, his voice choked with tears. “Please, stay with me.”

“Steve,” Nancy’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. She was at his side in an instant, her hands pressing against one of your wounds in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding. “We need to move. Now.”

“She has to be,” Steve said fiercely, his jaw clenched. He refused to entertain the alternative.

Together, they managed to lift you, your body limp and unresponsive, and began the arduous journey back to the portal. The vines still lashed out at them, as if the Upside Down itself was trying to keep you, but their determination fueled them. Steve carried you in his arms, his grip tight and protective, not knowing if he was doing more damage to your broken body, while the others fought off the monstrous creatures that pursued them.

Every step felt like a battle, every breath a struggle. The weight of your body in his arms, so unfamiliar and heavy, was a constant reminder of how fragile life was. Steve’s mind raced with memories of you: your laughter, the way you rolled your eyes at his bad jokes, the fire in your eyes when you argued with him about the best songs on a mixtape, the way his car smelled like cherries and vanilla after he would pick you up from your shift at the arcade, the terrible sailor jokes you made back when he worked on Scoops Ahoy and he snuck extra sprinkles on your ice cream every single time, that time you were talking with the kids about a science discovery and he couldn’t understand for the life of him a single word that left your mouth, you had his undivided attention from the way your eyes sparkled with excitement and your cheeks were slightly red from talking too fast . He clung to those moments like a lifeline, using them to push forward, to fight harder.

They had somehow managed to escape, dragging your seemingly lifeless body through the gate. The journey back to Hawkins lab had been a blur of panic and adrenaline, Steve’s focus entirely on keeping you alive. The doctors had taken over, their faces grim as they worked to stabilize you, and Steve had been left to sit outside, his hands stained with your blood, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and despair.

He could still feel the phantom weight of your limp form as he carried you through the gate back into the real world. They’d rushed you to the lab, the doctors scrambling to stabilize you, their faces tight with a mixture of concern and grim resignation. They had managed to stabilize you, somehow. Against all odds, you were still alive, clinging to life like a tenacious weed pushing through cracked concrete. A miracle, they called it.

But for Steve, miracle didn’t quite cut it. It felt more like a curse. He’d sat by your bedside for hours these last few weeks, watching over you. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only constant companion in the sterile room. You were still unconscious, your breathing shallow and labored. Next to Max’s broken form and Lucas’ constant crying. He couldn’t blame the boy as he cried in his arms for hours, those first days as they desperately waited for the doctors to tell them how you were. You seemed to have taken a greater hit than Max, his heart for a moment both felt heavier and lighter, Max wasn’t in as much pain as you, then the terrible realization came, what if that pain was enough for you to lose the battle with life? What if Max woke up and you were gone? What if the opposite happened, you didn't even know that Max was hurt. What if? What if? Those were the words that plagued his mind and gave him panic attacks.  

The guilt was a living, breathing entity, gnawing at the edges of his sanity. He had failed not only as a leader but as someone who, he was finally willing to admit to himself, cared deeply about you. He hadn’t been able to protect you; they hadn’t been able to break through to you. They were so close, and yet, they couldn’t change a thing. Even the fact that you were still breathing felt like a cruel joke. To see you like this, broken and vulnerable, was unbearable.

He’d tried to talk to you, even when he knew you couldn’t hear him, pouring out his anxieties, his fears, his burgeoning feelings, hoping somehow that you could feel his presence, that you could hear him. He told you about the day he first met you, how annoyed he’d been by your constant sarcasm, and how that annoyance had slowly transformed into a begrudging fondness, and eventually, something more. He still couldn’t say the word. He apologized for not being faster, not being stronger, not being able to keep you safe. He even found himself talking about Nancy, the ghost of the girl he’d once loved, a shadow that loomed large over him. He admitted that he still missed her, a part of him unable to fully let go of the past, but the feelings he was developing for you were different. They weren’t tied to old memories or lingering what-ifs; they were vibrant, alive, like a new kind of sunshine breaking through after years of gray. The contrast left him torn, battling with himself in quiet moments, though he found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t ignore. You made him feel something new—a reckless, hopeful kind of love that he wasn’t sure he deserved but couldn’t resist. It was all a garbled mess of emotion that he couldn’t contain.

His heart broke every time he heard Lucas talking to Max the same way, promising over and over that he was waiting patiently for her to have that movie date she had asked him to go to all this weeks ago. He had a new list of films every time he read the titles along with their description and cast, always glancing up every now and then hoping that she would react in any kind of way. After a while he took a slight change in her heartbeat as her approval but then it happened on a romcom and Lucas made an off-joke about her getting soft and sentimental, which led to another hour of crying.

Robin had tried to talk to him, to comfort him, but it was no use. She knew the depth of his pain better than most; she'd seen the way he always put himself in the middle of danger, like some self-appointed shield for everyone he cared about. Robin had been the first to notice how deeply Steve's connection to you had grown, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. She had also noticed how the dynamics between you, Steve, and Nancy created a quiet tension. Robin, ever observant, had picked up on the subtle glances Steve cast in Nancy’s direction and how your jaw would tighten in response, though you hid it masterfully. To Robin, it wasn’t just about lingering feelings—she could see that Steve was caught between the shadow of his past with Nancy and the undeniable spark he shared with you. Robin, ever the voice of reason and humor, often mused to herself about how tangled human emotions could be, especially when jealousy simmered just below the surface, cloaked by your fiery determination to never let it show. To her, you weren’t just a vital member of their team but the glue holding so many of them together, a force as unyielding as Steve’s stubborn sense of duty. She had often commented, with her signature dry humor, on how you seemed to balance Steve’s impulsiveness with your own fierce, calculated determination. It was that balance, she believed, that drew him to you. "She’s like you, but smarter," Robin had joked once, her tone teasing but her meaning sincere. Now, as she watched him unravel in your absence, she understood just how much that bond meant to him, and she ached for her best friend in a way that words couldn’t fix. She could see the raw pain etched on his face, the way his eyes were always shadowed with a mixture of grief and self-reproach. She’d seen the way he looked at you, the way his eyes softened when he thought no one was watching, and she knew that his feelings ran deeper than he was willing to admit, even now. 

Robin admired your resilience and how you poured yourself into protecting Max and the others, even when it clearly came at a cost. She had noticed how you balanced the intensity of your emotions with small acts of kindness, like peeling fruit for the kids or offering sour candy to calm nerves. Robin had once joked that your fierce energy was matched only by your oddly nurturing habits, a combination that left Steve utterly smitten.

But as Robin observed the dynamic unfolding between you, Steve, and Nancy, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for you. She could see how Steve’s lingering glances at Nancy, no matter how fleeting, weighed on you. She saw how you carried that burden silently, refusing to let your vulnerability show, even though it was clear to her that Steve’s feelings for you ran deeper than he likely realized. Robin wanted to nudge him, to make him see what was right in front of him, but she held back. This was something he had to figure out on his own.

Robin had once confided in you, sharing her observations with a mix of humor and seriousness. “You and Steve are like two stubborn magnets, both refusing to admit how drawn you are to each other,” she had said with a smirk, but her eyes were filled with sincerity. “Don’t let his cluelessness stop you from being yourself. He’ll figure it out eventually—he’s just slow, you know?”

Despite Robin’s reassurances, the ache of jealousy still simmered within you. You hated that it was there, hated how it made you question yourself in moments of quiet. But you also knew that Steve wasn’t the type to dwell in the past forever. The way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching, the way he lingered near you, drawn to your fiery energy and the scent of cherries and vanilla that seemed to haunt his every thought—those moments gave you hope. Even if he couldn’t say it yet, you felt it in the way his fingers brushed against yours during moments of quiet, in the way his eyes softened when they met yours.

And so, you stayed by his side, just as he stayed by yours, both of you navigating the tangled web of emotions that surrounded you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real, and as you lay in the Hawkins lab, fighting to recover from Vecna’s assault, Steve knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t lose you. Not now, not ever.

One evening, as the twilight seeped through the window, painting the room in hues of soft blues and purples, Steve found himself alone with you once more. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing over your hand, your skin cold against his. He traced the line of your wrist, the fragile bones outlined under your pale skin, the fragility of your life a stark reminder of his failure.

He leaned closer, his voice a whisper in the quiet room. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I should have… I should have done more." He swallowed the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. "You were… you are… something. I know this is probably stupid, and you probably can't even hear me, but… you make everything better. Even things I didn't think could be better." He closed his eyes, letting a single tear escape and trace a path down his cheek. “Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please come back to me. Please.”

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, holding your hand, lost in the maelstrom of grief and regret. He did something he hadn’t done since he was a little child. He prayed. He never was a religious man, but for you, he would do anything, anything to bring you back. He didn’t hear the footsteps approaching the door until it clicked open, a doctor entering with a grave expression on his face.

“Mr. Harrington?” he said quietly, his voice resonating through the quiet room.

Steve looked up, his heart pounding with dread. “Is she…?”

The doctor nodded slowly, his expression a mix of solemnity and amazement. “Her vitals are… improving. There’s been a change. A small one, but… she’s responding.”

Steve stared at him, dumbfounded. He looked at your face, and it was like a miracle. A small twitch in your fingers, a small shift in your expression. He felt hope surge through him, a sudden, fierce, and desperate hope. He watched, breath held, his whole world narrowed down to your small movements, praying, hoping that you would open your eyes and see him.

The road ahead was still long, and he knew you may never be the same, but right now, in this moment, all that mattered was that you were here, fighting, and that as long as you did, he would be right beside you. And this time, he vowed, he would do everything in his power to protect you, to keep you safe, and to make sure you were never hurt like this again. The guilt would still be there, a constant shadow, but now it was mixed with a fierce, protective love he never knew he possessed, a love that was determined to see you through this, no matter what. He had failed you once, but he wouldn’t fail you again. He wouldn’t. He would help you and support you when you woke up,when, because you would wake up, he refused to accept a life without you, you were too stubborn to let death win this fight. He would do anything, feed you, clean you, cheer for you when you will finally take your first step. He would be there for every step on the way, he vowed to every thing he held dear, to every deity that ever existed and will ever exist. 

He wouldn’t give up. The way you wouldn’t. 

[ldknightshade]

how to write a morally grey character (and keep them from being a total bore)

so. your other characters have a “clear” distinction of good and evil - that is, from your perspective, your other characters have a distinction of good and evil that aligns with your own and would generally be considered by societal standards to fall under one of two groups… but now you want to make a guy that breaks those boundaries.

look no further.

i. myths

first step is giving them a balance of good and bad traits

1. every character should have this???

2. every trait works on a sliding scale; when amped up to 11, good traits can become bad ones

those who are morally grey are unpredictable

to YOU and those they interact with, maybe… if they do not have a clear moral code of their own, of course they’ll seem this way. but they’re actually quite predictable if you actually comprehend what their motives and values are.

example: Herbert West from Re-Animator’s only motivation is re-animation of the dead. this may be evil to some, noble to others… but is it unpredictable? not really. i think we all know not to trust this man around corpses.

example: Charles Foster Offdensen from Metalocalypse’s only motivation is ensuring the health, safety, and happiness of Dethklok. he goes incredible lengths (war crimes, literally) to do so; this is evil to some, noble to others… but it he unpredictable? not really. if Dethklok is in danger, then he has dropped everything to save them and is doing so as we speak.

they’re relatable / more human

see above examples. moral greyness is not inherently relatable; in some cases, it would be argued that they shouldn’t be. either way, their moral greyness does not make them any more or less human than any other character. their moral greyness makes them morally grey and that’s that.

you need to show them doing both good things and bad things

wrong. you need to show them doing things that align with their personal motivations and values. if your character wouldn’t do it, why force it? this goes both ways.

they need to be sympathetic / have understandable reasons

anyone saying this is afraid of making characters truly morally grey. sympathy is not something that defines morals, anyway; but regardless, sugarcoating their actions and motives by making them a poor little meow meow on purpose is… bullshit. if every morally grey character was sympathetic, fiction as a whole would be dull.

ii. values

this is the real meat of it. what does your character value? is it something practical, like revenge or power? or something wackier like the previously mentioned examples?

clearly define the values your character holds and how it shapes their goals.

iii. motivation / lengths

now… how hard does motivation hit them? how far do they go? where do they draw the line? is there a line for them?

would your character lie to meet their goals? cheat? steal? manipulate? maim? vandalize? kill?

even amongst those, is there specific lines they won’t cross? would your character go as far as killing, but draw the line at children and animals?

and amongst those lines… what would make them cross it? does your character value honesty, but would lie to protect someone? are they a pacifist… but believe followers of certain schools of thought deserve a baseball to kneecaps and won’t hesitate to act on that?

draw out the line for them and then examine their exceptions. this is what will make it seem to other characters that their morality is a roulette wheel; when, in actuality, there is a line of logic that your morally grey character is following.

[edenfenixblogs]

okay this is a bit of a random question, and please feel free to ignore it for whatever reason! and please forgive any clumsy wording, i promise i'm asking just from curiosity and without any malice.

i know in jewish culture the mother is the one who sort of 'transfers jewishness' to the children, so i was wondering what would happen if a jewish trans man had a baby? would the kids be considered jewish or, because he's a father, would it be different?

lastly, i just wanted to thank you for all of your posts. i learn so much from you, and it always makes me smile when i see one of your art or tree posts!

What a great ask!!!! Thank you so much for your kind words!!!! It makes the stressful parts worth it. 😊🩵🩵

So, first off, I’m no rabbi or even a religious scholar. I’m just a Jew who likes being a Jew.

But here is my take that other Jews are free to add onto or provide sources on.

But there is no Jewish High Authority. There’s no, like, Jewish pope to sit around and let Jews know they’ve Done Jewish Wrong. Judaism is a cultural of mutual acceptance based on the totality of shared cultural wisdom and understanding.

So, a person cannot just decide “I’m Jewish now” and be Jewish. Jews as a community must accept them into our tribe after they’ve demonstrated an understanding of and commitment to our broad understanding of life. Jews also don’t have sects. We have different branches or streams of belief ranging from humanist to ultraorthadox, but we are all equally Jewish. We don’t even all believe in G-d. Our core values revolve around how we treat one another and are nuanced, which is why becoming a Jew is a process.

With that in mind, with the exception of a few very strictly outlier cases, matrilineal passage of religion is more of a guideline than a hard and fast rule.

I could be wrong as it’s been awhile since I learned this and may have some details mixed up, but I believe that the matrilineal passage of culture was partially instituted due to the frequent rape of Jewish women. As a community, we consider a child born to a Jewish woman to be as much a part of our community as any other member of our community, regardless of who fathered that child. Likewise, we take communal responsibility and cultural claim to that child. Someone cannot rape a Jewish woman and the take her child from her to be raised as non-Jewish that is an affront to us.

Other reasons I’ve heard for why Jews pass religion through mothers is due to equality. Matrilineal passage of culture is only one part of passing Judaism across generations. Jews get the religion from their mother and their tribe from their father. There used to be 12 tribes named after all of Jacob’s sons. But those were mostly scattered/lost over persecution and diaspora. Now there are only three (depending on how you break it down. It gets complicated LOL): Yisrael, Levi, and Cohen. Most Jews are tribe of Yisrael. I am tribe of Yisrael because my father is tribe of Yisrael. When you convert to Judaism you also become tribe of Yisrael. My mother is a Levite (tribe of Levi) because her father was a Levite. Historically, Levites played an important role in the Old Temple in Jerusalem as well as other culturally distinct duties ranging from everything from maintaining the temple itself, education of the Jewish community, singing in the old temple, serving as judges, and serving as guards of the temple. In diaspora and in times of strife in the biblical era, Levites also helped keep Jewish communities together and safe.

The remaining tribe is Kohanim. This group is believed to be directly descended from Aaron, Moses’s brother and therefore descended from all the priests of the temple in the biblical era.

It is possible that the Levites and Kohanim were able to maintain their tribal lineage patrilineally due to their status as leaders in early diaspora and therefore being able to maintain their roles in diasporic Jewish communities longer. I simply don’t know. But I do know that the culture is what mothers traditionally pass down and the duties and history of the tribe is passed down via the fathers. When both parents are Jewish, what matters is that each parent passes an important aspect of cultural identity on to their children.

But none of this is compulsory or set in stone.

And I will again say that my understanding of it all may be fundamentally flawed in some way, because of how unimportant it is to me personally. I mean, I think it’s cool that my mom can trace our lineage back so far. And even some DNA tests done several years ago have confirmed that my mom is descended from an actual Talmudic scholar which is fun to know. I think it’s cool that my ancestors were biblical nerds and judges and that my grandfather was a lawyer and that my skill that benefits the Jewish community during times of strife in diaspora seems to be education and outreach. I like that I personally seem to excel at issues related to judgment and education and community cohesion, because it is so in line with the history of my ancestors as determined by cultural norms as well as DNA. It also makes me sad that diaspora has taken away some of that cultural heritage from other Jewish tribes.

But it doesn’t actually have anything to do with how Jewish we are OR how important or valid we are to or within the Jewish community. These are rules/guidelines that were developed with the goal of maintaining identity and culture despite immense hardship. These are rules/guidelines meant to strengthen our community. But they were never (as far as I understand it all) meant to EXCLUDE anyone.

And here’s the thing: a slang way Jews have of referring to one another is as “members of the tribe.” Because beyond Yisrael or Levi or Kohen, we are all JEWS. We are all a member of the same tribe, and that tribe is Judaism.

Is the trans man Jewish? Have he and his partner (if he chooses to have a partner) agreed to raise their child Jewish? Then congratulations to them and their Jewish baby!!!

If one parent is a Levite or a Kohen and the other is another tribe, I’ll let them and rabbi decide how to sort that out. But even then it wouldn’t likely be viewed as a matter of contention but more as a fun Talmudic riddle to explore.

TL;DR: Patrilineal Jews are just as Jewish as any other Jew. And trans men are men. Beyond that, everything else is Talmudic nuanced debate.

[inwinterhell]

In Defense of Syrio Forel

(aka how Syrio respects Arya's agency in a way the faceless men don't)

Disclaimer: I know Syrio=Jaqen believers are few and far between, especially on here, but writing this gives me an excuse to talk about Syrio and Ayra so here have this anyway.

Syrio Forel has a distinct teaching/coaching style based on name-play and "true sight," both of which are skills Arya later builds upon in the House of Black and White. However, while the skills she learns are similar, the way Syrio interacts with Arya seeks to empower her while the faceless men seek to tear her down. Some of the main contrasts I see are:

Arya's gender identity

The faceless men make Arya's gender identity into a barrier as soon as they start genuinely training her:

 "It may be that the Many-Faced God has led you here to be His instrument, but when I look at you I see a child . . . and worse, a girl child. Many have served Him of Many Faces through the centuries, but only a few of His servants have been women. Women bring life into the world. We bring the gift of death. No one can do both (AFFC Arya II).

I question the validity of this concern, especially considering the Waif is right there, but regardless, they're giving her an extra hurdle to overcome. Her gender identity is one of many reasons they use to make her insecure about her place there and show how she isn't good enough.

Despite this, the Kindly Man never actually calls her a girl when she's pretending to be "no one." He calls her a girl when she is under an alias (Cat/Beth/The Ugly Little Girl), but otherwise, he uses the genderless "child:" *not 100% on this but a search of ice and fire backs me up lol*

"Do they frighten you, child?" asked the kindly man" (ADWD The Ugly Little Girl).

"Go to bed now, child," the kindly man said" (AFFC Cat of the Canals).

"Child," he said, "come sit with me. I have a tale to tell you" (AFFC Arya II).

He also specifically says her gender will not be hers if she joins them:

"He will take your hands, your feet, your arms and legs, your private parts (AFFC Arya II).

In contrast, Syrio's "Boy, girl...You are a sword" is nonchalant. I think it does serve several purposes, namely to tell her she won't get any special treatment and to make her pay attention to how others see her, but importantly, it also lets her know that she has nothing extra to prove. He was hired to train her as a sword, and he's going to train her like he would anyone else.

After this initial lesson, he also never calls her "boy" again. He sometimes uses "child" but for the most part calls her "girl:"

"So slow? Be quicker, girl. Your enemies will give you more than scratches (AGOT Arya III) 

"Just so. And now you are a dead girl" (AGOT Arya IV).

"Watching is not seeing, dead girl" (AGOT Arya IV).

Arya says she is a girl. Syrio respects that and calls her a girl.

2. Needle

When the Waif sees Arya training with Needle, that is the signal for Arya to get rid of her belongings:

One night the waif happened to be passing and saw Arya at her swordplay. The girl did not say a word, but the next day, the kindly man walked Arya back to her cell. "You need to rid yourself of all this," he said of her treasures.

Arya felt stricken. "They're mine" (AFFC Arya II)

The faceless men know what is important to Arya and want to strip her of it so she rids herself of her identity.

Syrio lets Arya use the name of her sword to help understand her training:

 You are not holding a battle-axe, you are holding a—"

"—needle," Arya finished for him, fiercely.

"Just so" (AGOT Arya II).

"Syrio Forel allowed himself a smile. "I am thinking that when we are reaching this Winterfell of yours, it will be time to put this needle in your hand" (AGOT Arya IV).

3. Her name!

The one and only time that Syrio ever name-drops "Arya" is when he is convincing her to run for her life:

"Arya child," he called out, never looking, never taking his eyes off the Lannisters, "we are done with dancing for the day. Best you are going now. Run to your father" (AGOT Arya IV).

Nine-year old Arya is standing there, with a stick sword in her hand, ready to fight a bunch of grown men with Syrio. He knows that she loves him--that she is loyal to him--and if he wanted to use that he could have run with her right then and there. But he doesn't. Instead he reminds her of her name and her father. His final words to her are telling her to remember who she is.

When Arya thinks of Syrio in the books following AGOT, she thinks of him as her friend, and she is right. Syrio cared about Arya, not about "no one." He's one of her memories in the House of Black and White, preventing her from letting go of Arya Stark, and that's where he belongs.

[gwemrys]

okay genuine question does the show state a distinction between ‘warlock’ and ‘sorcerer’ anywhere textually … bc from what i read in fics it seems ppl think ‘warlock’ is when you’re born with your powers and ‘sorcerer’ is when you actively persue the art of sorcery… is this distinction like a general consensus in the english language (that i’m unaware of bc my native language doesn’t have this distinction afaik), or did the show specify this somewhere, or did we make this up as fans?

either way i’m always kinda peeved when in a fic merlin answers someone calling him a sorcerer with ‘actually🤓 i’m NOT a sorcerer bc i’m a warlock Because i was Born with my Powers’ like omg … yes he’s a warlock but canonically merlin also refers to himself as a sorcerer… he may have been born with his powers but he did also academically strive to improve in the art of sorcery and learned spells and enchantments actively. and it’s a bit silly i guess to be irked by this but i always feel like the fic writer seems to think merlin is more morally pure for having had no choice in his magic. which is. i guess understandable in a way bc if you condemn ppl for something they had no choice in then you are in the wrong no matter what. but also… the whole point of the show was that magic is not evil ergo it should be fine to practise magic even if you DID choose it. and merlin canonically knows this so i feel like regardless of whether the word sorcerer is the most suitable word for him he still, in solidarity with the whole magical community, wouldn’t bother to correct someone when they call him a sorcerer (as soon as he's ready to own up to having magic at all obviously)… it’s not even wrong plus he wouldn’t want to distance himself from them… or like probably he would add that he was born with his powers but only because this information is part of who he is, and maybe as supportive evidence that magic can't be evil bc it would mean some babies are born evil... but not bc he would object to being called a sorcerer methinks . after all he is one

[youremyheaven]

The 8h in Astrology💀🦇✨

(this can apply to both tropical and vedic placement of 8th house because regardless of the system employed, the energy felt and experienced is the same :-)

The 8h is perhaps the most mysterious house in astrology and is most commonly associated with sex, death and unexpected events. Its also related to one's longevity, wealth, debts, transformation etc

It is a very misunderstood house, so I thought I'd make a post analysing it and shedding light on its nature<3

8h is connected to finances, occult, revenge, taboos and fears.

Sex, death and transformation form the core of 8h (scorpio). These are very Scorpionic themes and we must understand why. I had already explained how sex and death are interrelated and kind of go hand in hand. Sex and death are similar in the sense that they both offer release from life; the former temporarily and the latter permanently 💀 and when there's talk of sex and death, there is bound to be talk of transformation because both of these are deeply transformative activities.

It is interesting that a water house, like the 8h rules over sex because water is an element that absorbs things quickly. Sex can be best understood as a transfer of energy between two people; this is why sometimes with certain people, sex can feel very draining and post-coitus, many people describe feeling melancholic. Water is the most emotional element because, unlike other elements, it's in the nature of water to merge itself, like rivers merging with the sea; union is essential because water by design flows from itself to eventually reach the ocean.

Each water sign expresses this emotional depth differently but it is at its height in Scorpio which is generally understood as a very "intense sign".

Scorpio is known for its highly sexual nature but it's very rare to see a Scorpio enjoy casual sex (unless they have other placements that encourage it). This is because they deeply crave emotional connection and emotional intimacy.

It is why it's advised to be selective about one's sexual partners; because sex can have a profound impact on one's spiritual energy and cannot be considered a purely physical activity. it's possible for one to be disconnected from their emotions but being intimate with someone is not an un-emotional act by nature since sex is ruled by the water sign of Scorpio/8h.

In French, an orgasm is called "le petit mort" or "little death" and its safe to say that sex & death are closely associated in many cultures.

there is a reason why sex, fears, trauma, taboos are all 8h topics. if you've ever come across someone who naturally exhibits a very potent, magnetic sexual energy and aura, 8/10 times they've lived very messed up lives or come from a home that was less than ideal. this is because sexuality is inherently dark and shadow-y; someone who has a very potent sexual aura can easily intimidate others; they're bound to have a very unsettling effect on others; this is because we unconsciously pick up on the fact that they've been through things we can't imagine. they project things we fear. historically sex symbols have always come from really abusive families, have terrible relationships with their father, usually had to bear their mother's emotional burdens, they've most likely had a string of bad relationships and likely suffered abuse. why is this? whatever we project on the outside is a reflection of what goes on within us.

There is a reason why most people say Old Hollywood actresses were so much more unique and better than the current lot. Not only did they have a distinct persona but they each reflected it energetically. True raw sexuality always points to darkness lurking underneath; this is what makes us curious about them, what draws us in and what makes their presence so intense; like they suck up the air around them.

Most celebs today are beautiful on the outside and possess every feature it takes to be "sexy" but they do not have sex appeal. They lack presence.

(I went off on a tangent lmao, anywayyyyys)

8h is connected to transformation. Birth and death are two of the most fundamentally transformative experiences, not just for the people undergoing it but also for everyone in their lives. In our lives, we also experience ego deaths and spiritual re-births, so we live and die many times before we actually die. Sex too is an activity that is supercharged with transformative potential. There is a reason why sex is performed ritualistically in many occult initiation ceremonies and why Tantra is so heavily associated with sex that it is practically only known as some kind of crazy yogic sex thing. Sex opens up an energetic channel, a doorway so to speak, that allows for new energy to be invited in. There is a reason why many creatives consider their partners to be their muses (although its not necessary for a muse to be their sexual partner; i will get into this in more depth in a future post).

the 8h is connected to unexpected events because by nature we cannot predict either birth or death. we can come up with a tentative time frame but it's not possible to conclusively say someone will die/be born at this specific time. 8h governs all matters that are unexpected; positive and negative. life can turn on a dime. you can go from rags to riches over night but you can also lose your empire in minutes. 8h transits bring about crazy transformative experiences and depending on your placements and aspects, create a lot of emotional turbulence as well.

I have noticed that many 8h natives tend to be heavy sleepers whereas 12h natives often struggle with insomnia.

8h is connected to both wealth/finances as well as debts. This comes down to the fact that the 8h is connected to transformation. Our resources/money is a significator of our karma (in spirituality karma means actions) and therefore they are always undergoing change. There are certain aspects of our life we cannot change (where we are born, who we are born to etc) but our finances are up to us to change and transform. Its interesting that the 8h is linked to loans, debts etc. and not just accumulating wealth. An afflicted 8h can show someone who has a lot of debts or an inability to keep hold of money.

8h is also related to what is kept hidden or secret and finances/debts are usually the things that people are extremely private about (so are other 8h activities like sex and death).

Wherever you have your 8h, you're probably better off keeping those matters very low-key and private because its easy to attract evil eye.

the reason 8h is also associated with revenge is because it represents our shadow side, its the 8th house from the 1st house of self/ego, so it represents what we keep hidden/our shadow. The reason why we feel so triggered by certain people is because they project our shadow (in the Jungian sense of the term). If we ever hate some people for no reason, there is a HIGH chance that our 8h placements are present in their chart.

8h synastry can create some of the most toxic relationships and lead to a lot of purging and projecting on to each other. This is never good for long term relationships.

This is also why 8h is connected to fears. Our fears are usually subconscious and hidden from others and even from our conscious selves. This is again why its also connected to taboos. The 8h essentially covers all that lies underneath the surface.

"A human being is a part of the whole, called by us “Universe”, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest — a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. Nobody is able to achieve this completely, but the striving for such achievement is in itself a part of the liberation and a foundation for inner security."- Albert Einstein (Jyeshta Moon) 8h

its very common for 8h natives to feel trapped or stuck in their circumstances. being "caged in" is a very definitive 8h experience.

In Tibetan Buddhism, the concept of "Bardo" is present. It is the intermediate, transitional or liminal state between death and re-birth. This need not refer to literal death and re-birth of course.

The experience of Bardo is transcendental, allowing an individual to experience reality in the clearest way possible but it can also be terrifying. It is an opportunity for liberation but it can also prove to be dangerous as one experiences hallucinations based on their karma.

Bardo can be experienced during times when the usual way of life is interrupted, such as during the course of illness, during meditation etc. Such times can prove fruitful for spiritual progress because external constraints diminish. However, they can also present challenges because it can also make us impulsive.

8h transits can often feel this way and having 8h placements itself can feel this way; you're capable of immense spiritual depth but also of causing so much trouble and sometimes its impossible to separate the two.

8h natives could be heavy sleepers or struggle with insomnia (this is more 12h imo)

8h transits are often connected to death 💀 and the 8h placement can provide significant clues about one's lifespan, nature of death etc

“Whoever loves becomes humble. Those who love have , so to speak pawned a part of their narcissism.”― Sigmund Freud (Moon in 8h)

8h natives experience a riptide of emotions but are unable to channel it effectively. They are not the best at expressing how they feel verbally. The reason why Moon is debilitated in Scorpio is because these natives are unable to express how they feel and unable to receive energy in the same way as Cancerian natives (Moon rules Cancer) this is not due to any other reason but that these natives have such a vast reservoir of emotions and such depth that it's almost too much for them to process and grasp emotions in a nonchalant way.

“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them -- words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they're brought out. But it's more than that, isn't it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you've said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That's the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”― Stephen King (Jyeshta Moon/Moon in Scorpio)

8h in an earth sign could signify dying of old age, 8h aspecting neptune/uranus/pluto could signify unnatural death, 8h in fire signs could point to violence/accidents.

since the 8h is connected to the subconscious realm, its also linked to psychology, magic and secrets. magic involves tricking the mind into believing something is real when it's not, it's a very 8h activity.

the subconscious also stores our secrets which is why its connected to hate and revenge.

the natural ruling planet of 8h is Saturn and Saturn stands for discipline, justice, karma and time. in life we get what we give (this is also a sexual principle) and this explains the connection between 8h and sex, as well as 8h and saturn.

ultimately scorpio's waters represent that which we hide, be it desire, fear, traumas or taboos.

in vedic astrology, scorpio is exalted in ketu whereas rahu is exalted in taurus (the opposite sign of scorpio is taurus). the fact that ketu is the tail of the dragon with no physical form of its own and that its exalted in a water sign is very telling.

"Ketu signifies the spiritual process of the refinement of materialisation to the spirit and is considered both malefic and benefic, as it causes sorrow and loss, and yet simultaneously turns the individual to God. In other words, it causes material loss to force a more spiritual outlook in the person." (this is from wiki)

I would say Scorpio/8h can be described very similarly. experiencing loss is a big theme in the life of an 8h native. its very easy for 8h natives to give into drugs, other substances and live a very hardened life. its through experiencing loss and heartbreak that an 8h native can break through the cycle and seek spirituality because the 8h is innately connected to the spiritual realm.

these natives can veer between either extremes, i.e, they can be alcoholics/addicts, never experiencing true love/meaningful relationships but through pain, a divine channel opens up and many reform their ways for the better. because an evolved 8h native is capable of profoundly deep intimacy and are the most loyal and protective of companions/partners/friends.

its hard for these natives to find stability and most 8h natives are naturally guarded people, suspicious of others and their intentions which makes them true blue introverts.

🌹true romantics deep down, these natives desire love profoundly but feel unable to express it adequately. if your partner is an 8h native, they'll remember all your likes and dislikes, every little thing about you, pick up on your habits and preferences but they'll seldom verbally gas you up or be affectionate. they're more covert with their love.

being extremely mysterious, many 8h natives could have a not so good reputation. people perceive them in ways that are far removed from who they are. they could also have many secret admirers.

symbolised by the scorpion, a fiercely guarded creature that is intelligent, defensive, dangerous and ruthless to its enemies, 8h natives imbibe quite a few of these traits. they are so defensive because they feel like they have to protect themselves. being a water sign, they absorb things easily and this pollutes their energy.

they're the kindest people underneath it all<33

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

How can a world have no major religions but a vast number of small ones. Like no religion accounts for more than 1% of the entire population except maybe atheist for maybe 5% of the population? But what does that say about the distribution of culture/countries?

Tex: Major religions are often major because they are state-backed - i.e., they have lots of money at their disposal, so they become economically and thus culturally relevant. Religion answers, approximately, two major questions: 1) Are we alone in X or Y manner? and 2) I’m scared of X thing that I have difficulty understanding, what is Y solution?

For a place like Earth, the planet that we know the most about, there are no planet-wide confirmations about the physical existence of any deity in particular (as in, shows up in a grocery and says hello to you in an entirely unambiguous manner that all onlookers can agree upon). This means that religions on Earth are predicated on the idea that belief - and, thus, willpower - makes the deity real. Or at least “proves” it. Your mileage may vary.

Because of this, the real-world religions that you can observe and study will have many, many commonalities to the two general questions I stated above. The first question usually contains subjects such as sentience, and the emotional frills of that. The second question usually contains subjects such as death and the process of dying.

In order to have many distinct religions, you would need a lot of unanswered questions for various societies to answer, a severe lack of contact and communication between groups of societies, and most importantly a lack of (or lack of need of) money. The more travel there is, the more people of different backgrounds will talk to each other, and the more ideas will be confronted, shared, and discussed. Trade would correspondingly be low, because of the lack of travel.

Utuabzu: There’s a couple things to consider here. Firstly, how are we defining religion? This isn’t a trick question, it’s a genuine issue. The Abrahamic concept of religion doesn’t really carry over well to other spiritual traditions. Most other belief systems are more local and action-focused (orthoprax, concerned with what one does, rather than what one believes), and often lack any mandatory set of beliefs, or standardised mythology. Religions like Chinese Folk Religion, Shintō, Hinduism*, etc. can have wildly varying pantheons and myths depending on where you are and who you ask. So depending on your definition every tiny village could have its own religion, because it has its own version of the cultural mythos and its own pantheon including some distinctive local gods and dropping some more common cultural ones.

Universal (applicable to everyone regardless of origin or location), proselytising (actively attempting to convert people) religions are rare. There’s only actually a few of them. Most notably, Christianity and Islam. They are both also orthodox religions (concerned with believing the correct things), which means they have a standard mythology and theology (or several competing standards that have historically attempted to resolve their differences via murder). A third, very notable difference they have with most belief systems is that they are exclusive, you can’t (or at least you’re not supposed to) combine them with other belief systems. Most non-Abrahamic belief systems are more or less fine with syncretism (combining belief systems), most clearly seen with the way Buddhism** is practiced concurrently with folk religions across Asia.

So, in answer to the actual question, your best bet here is to just not have an equivalent to Christianity or Islam. I suggest reading up on non-Abrahamic and pre-Christian/Muslim religions and religious practices, as that should give you an idea of what such a world might look like. I’d expect it to be colourful and diverse, with cities filled with temples and shrines to an ever-expanding array of deities and hosting various festivals much of the year. Many people would likely layer a philosophy like Daoism or Stoicism over their day-to-day religious practice, and it would be common and expected for people to show respect to or make  offerings to local deities when traveling. Religion would be a thing you do, not what you believe.

*Hinduism is less a religion and more a family of closely related religions and spiritual traditions that all originate on the Indian subcontinent. Which is why the Indian government considers Jains and Buddhists to be Hindu.

**Buddhism can be described as a religion or as a philosophy, depending on who you ask, what the context is, and whether Mercury is in Gatorade. Western definitions don’t really apply cleanly to non-Western contexts.