#i want to stay true to who i am and who i want to be

[freewilllife]

Viktor’s commune always gave off creepy vibes, but for me, the path it was taking became crystal clear at the start of ep6. That first scene basically spells out the extent of Viktor’s corruption and how far his actions and mindset are from any kind of altruism.

@jaybejaybeyes Personally, I interpret this after having some conversations as "Victor´s dream come true".

Indeed, it is a sort of corruption, but it seems Victor is actually well-meaning here.

And look at Viktor's face when it happens. That’s not horror. That’s not astonishment. That’s not grief. It’s… mild annoyance, I'd say?

Why should he grieve Salo´s death? I am just curious. They are neither friends, nor related. Victor "healed" them, but that doesn´t make him Jesus.

He may consider himself responsible in a way, but I doubt, that he became suddenly all-loving.

And that’s the thing about Viktor’s commune — it was never about the people who joined it. It was never about understanding them, helping them, or connecting with them. It was all about Viktor’s desperate need to be in control, about his refusal to confront suffering, pain, and all the messy, complicated parts of being human. From the very beginning, it was about Viktor going, “well, the end justifies the means”, but there’s nothing kind or humanistic about that philosophy, because it always comes at the expense of people’s lives. The end never justifies the means.

Nope, you are definitely wrong. Victor indeed has wished to make the lives of the people better with "hextech" , was even more outspoken, that he did not wish to create weapons and I guess that this commune is literally, how he envishioned it. There is corruption...but it is the arcane at work here. And maybe even in Jayce case.

There can be a conversation to be had, if the people are already dead or are still alive...but what is undoubtly true...The whole commune is dependant on Victor.

People can be both...Yes, Victor wanted to stay alive, but he is not a control-freak...And surely not a guy, who thinks that the "the end justifies the means". I mean, isn´t it funny, that the solution Victor is conviced of, plays in the hands of the arcane, which obviously has a will of its own?

It is literally right there...that the arcane heavily influenced and manipulated Victor, and most likely also Jayce.

The end never justifies the means.

That is an oversimplification. There are cases, where the end literally justifies the means.

And honestly, I was surprised to see how many people were mad at Jayce for blasting Viktor at the end of that episode. In my opinion, by then, it was quite clear that Viktor didn’t care much about his Arcane-modified toys. He wasn’t even pretending he did. Salo wasn’t a person to him. None of them were. They were just tools, stepping stones for his glorious evolution. And all of that was right there in the first scene of ep6.

Oh, that is interesting. Did suddenly "the end justify the means" or becomes murder a great deed, if the right character is killed?

In contrast, Victor tried to be responsible for his commune and tried to protect them, literally dying. I am sorry, but I am not sure, why you suddenly jump to such conclusions?

I still feel like we were ROBBED of that whole arc, watching Viktor descend to this. Because he gives a shit about Vander, so it's not like he's totally unempathetic--like he's still Viktor. It's just that from the start of the commune up to this point, Viktor has been going through a slow descent into madness from not having a single actual person to talk to who isn't completely bound to him in some way. There is nobody to question him and everyone is relying on him constantly.

@straysparks Yes, the influence of the arcane gets stronger.

Viktor is deeply empathetic but also vulnerable to megalomania, and having a whole group of people worship you for months on end is gonna get to your head eventually even if you really really really hate the idea. Which I think we can be pretty certain he does at first, unless you subscribe to the idea that the Hexcore is really majorly influential to his personality change.

Both, but why should this not be the case? The arcane has a will of its own and can be vicious if challenged. Victor was literally drowned in it and hears a voice the moment he wakes up...Of course, he is being changed/manipulated to a certain degree. When Ekko literally broke the armour, Victor woke up and realized, what he had done...This moment of "waking up" does not make much sense, if the arcane has not played a major role in the corruption process.

Because people being wrong are rarely persuaded by violence alone.

I think his disconnection from his empathy is driven by a need to get away from the closeness of the commune members. He's an extremely private person and he gets virtually no space or time to himself for months on end. Seeing the commune members as cogs in a machine is a coping strategy and I must stress that there is NO ONE to check him on this.

Or he already knows deep down , that they are already dead? He does care for them, but I mean, he is literally not Jesus, has hardly any personal attachment to them. In fact, Victor had always difficulties in that area.

Hexcore influence is convenient to the narrative, but Viktor's character is set up in such a way that his behavior here isn't even out of character given a particular series of events which we KNOW happen, we just don't see them on screen. It's ooc if you assume Viktor doesn't change between the times we see him on screen, but that's the thing, he DOES.

The hexcore influence is not just convenient, it literally explains so much...Look here:1,2

I saw the light after reading those posts. Nope, Victor does not suddenly become mad or cold for no reason, he literally is partly mind-controlled.

Viktor’s commune always gave off creepy vibes, but for me, the path it was taking became crystal clear at the start of ep6. That first scene basically spells out the extent of Viktor’s corruption and how far his actions and mindset are from any kind of altruism.

Think about it: Viktor sees Jayce kill Salo through Salo’s eyes. He’s connected to Salo but doesn’t even try to comfort him, verbally or mentally, or ease his pain with magic in his final moments. He just stands there, watching. Waiting for Salo to die, staring at Jayce. The only time he flinches is when Jayce lunges forward, and Salo dies abruptly — his vision cuts to black.

And look at Viktor's face when it happens. That’s not horror. That’s not astonishment. That’s not grief. It’s… mild annoyance, I'd say?

Like, ugh. Jayce didn’t get it. He didn’t appreciate my work. And now he’s also destroyed one of my puppets. Sounds pretty frustrating, doesn't it, Viktor?

Then Sky says, “poor Salo”, and Viktor? Immediately pivots to, “That’s not Jayce. It’s another will at work within him”. And a moment later, he’s fascinated by the Anomaly. Salo’s gone, and no one spares him an extra thought.

And that’s the thing about Viktor’s commune — it was never about the people who joined it. It was never about understanding them, helping them, or connecting with them. It was all about Viktor’s desperate need to be in control, about his refusal to confront suffering, pain, and all the messy, complicated parts of being human. From the very beginning, it was about Viktor going, “well, the end justifies the means”, but there’s nothing kind or humanistic about that philosophy, because it always comes at the expense of people’s lives. The end never justifies the means.

And honestly, I was surprised to see how many people were mad at Jayce for blasting Viktor at the end of that episode. In my opinion, by then, it was quite clear that Viktor didn’t care much about his Arcane-modified toys. He wasn’t even pretending he did. Salo wasn’t a person to him. None of them were. They were just tools, stepping stones for his glorious evolution.

And all of that was right there in the first scene of ep6.

[annarobszombies]

Dabi x Reader Oneshot

I was gonna put this on ao3 but I decided you all can have it instead.

Dabi tries to break up with you.

Loving someone like him wasn’t easy, he was a man of contradictions. He could be cagey and distant one day, clingy and obsessive another. There were days he’d say barely two words to you, and days he’d talk until his throat couldn’t take any more. But there was at least one thing that he was consistent on: 

Dabi didn’t lie.

If you asked him something he couldn’t-or just didn’t want-to answer, he’d either stay silent, or tell you that it wasn’t your business. Things like that included his work with the League, and his identity or past. Even if you pushed him on it, he’d clamp his jaw shut and turn away from you. You’d asked him once, why he didn’t just tell you something, even if it wasn’t true. You’d reminded him that it wasn’t like you’d know if he was lying, so what was the harm? 

“I don’t like liars,” Is all he’d said, and you’d had no choice but to accept it. You appreciated his truthfulness, knowing well just how easy it was for a man to lie to you just to keep in your good graces. Dabi was not afraid of telling you the truth, even if it hurt or made you angry. 

And that’s what makes tonight so strange. 

There was something in the way he stood, stiff yet overly relaxed, that clued you into something not being quite right. Then he refused to look you in the eye, which was definitely strange for him. He may not always look at you directly while speaking, but he was never the type to go to any great length to avoid your gaze. And tonight, his eyes were everywhere but on you, no matter how hard you tried to meet them. And on top of all that, nothing he was saying even made sense to you. 

He’d lived in your home, eaten your food, given you any and everything he could, told you over and over again for the last year that he loved you. And now he was breaking up with you? 

No, something was wrong here. Very, very wrong. 

“Dabi,” You say his name slowly, carefully. “Can you just…tell me what’s going on?”

“I am telling you,” He says, tone far too strained to be natural. 

“Not…not really.” 

“It’s just not working.”

“What isn’t working?” 

“Us.” 

“What about us?” 

He lets out a hard sigh, your name mumbled from his lips. His eyes flit to yours for the barest second before they find the far wall again. 

“We don’t fit,” He says, and for the first time in this entire conversation, he sounds honest. 

“Says who?” You ask with a careful step forward. You reach out to touch him, hands gently grazing the front of his shirt before resting on his chest, soaking in his warmth through your fingertips. He doesn’t flinch at your touch, doesn’t lean away. If anything, he presses himself closer, his body much more truthful than his words.

“Says everyone.” 

You frown, pushing yourself closer by just another step. Your hands slide up his chest to caress his face, forcing him with gentle hands to look at you. He looks like he’s in pain. 

“Dabi,” You say his name again, catching how he subtly flinches at the sound of it. “My love-” 

He rips away from you, shoving you hard backwards in the process. It’s such a sudden action that you’re unable to catch yourself before tumbling to the ground, hissing in pain when your ankle twists the wrong way. Traitorous tears fill your eyes and threaten to fall from your lashes as you look up at him from your new spot on the ground. The way he looks back at you can only be described as abject horror. 

“No-fuck-I-” He vacillates between reaching for you and backing further away, unsure of what to do with himself now. “Shit.” 

His breathing is coming hard, eyes blown wide. One hand digs into his hair, pulling at his scalp, the other scratching at the staples in his face, almost like he was trying to tear them out. Your breath catches in your throat when you realize that he’s having a panic attack. 

You say his name, but he doesn’t hear you. His eyes are unfocused, his chest heaving. He manages to stumble back one more step before hitting the far wall and going still. You take that as your chance to move, scrambling up and limping over to him slowly, hands outstretched to take hold of him as soon as he’s within distance. When the first drops of blood hit your floor, you move faster, launching yourself forward heedless of how badly your ankle hurts. 

“Hey, hey,” You keep your voice low, grabbing at his wrists and trying to pull them away from his hair and face. He’s shaking, even harder than the days when he stumbles home overheated and overtired. He’s looking at you, but you aren’t sure he’s really seeing you. 

You coax him into sitting on the floor with you, letting him stay with his back pressed into the wall while you knelt in front of him. You’ve managed to pry his hands away from their self-destructive task and now hold them close, pressing them gently against your own chest so that he can feel your heartbeat and steadier breathing. 

“I’m okay,” You murmur softly, trying to keep your face neutral at the sight of his bloodied face. He’d managed to get a few staples out, causing new wounds in the process. “It’s going to be okay.” 

You wrack your brain for what to do now. There was no promise that this pause in self harm wouldn’t start back up at the wrong word or movement. Dabi was stronger than you, if he wanted to pull away from you and dig his fingers into his skin until he bled all over, he very well could, and though you’d resist, he’d definitely win that fight. There had to be something you could do, something that would shake him out of his fog just enough for you to bring him back to reality, without making it worse than it already was. 

“Do you think All Might would win in a fight against a mantis shrimp?” You blurt, surprising you both. Dabi looks at you, blinking slowly.

“I mean,” You continue. “Mantis shrimps can punch super hard, right? Like they can really fuck someone up despite being so little. But since All Might is also, like, the strongest in the world, would that make it a fair fight?” 

The corner of his lips turns upwards, light slowly returning to his eyes, and you just keep going. 

“They have to be in special cases when in captivity, cause otherwise they’ll break out. Did you know that they can punch so fast that they boil the water around them? And they do this totally naturally. They evolved to be able to do that. What kind of predators do these things have?” 

“All Might…” His voice is hoarse. “Apparently.”

You grin at him, snickering a little. He lets out a huff of air, something similar to a laugh but not quite. 

“The shrimp would win,” He says.

“Oh, one hundred percent.” Now you’re both laughing, really, properly laughing. His shoulders hunch, head dropped down, but his torso shakes with his amusement nonetheless. 

You take a breath, calming yourself a bit and observing your partner. His breathing was still a bit labored, and his eyes still had a faraway look to them, but he seemed to be back in the here and now, at least for the moment. Whatever had triggered his episode, whether it had been the argument, him pushing you over, or both, seems to have floated from his mind momentarily. You had no doubt you’d need to be prepared to talk him through it all once he was back to being fully himself. 

For a moment, you think you see who he could have been, if whatever had happened to him hadn’t happened. You could imagine him with brighter eyes, a bigger grin not suppressed by scars and staples. He was already perfect to you, but your heart ached for him. For the him that was lost to his past. 

“I love you,” You say. 

He looks at you for a long moment, his laughter dead in his chest. He pulls one hand away from your chest, and lifts it to caress your face. His thumb runs a soothing line along your cheekbone, twitching a bit when he spots the drying blood he’s accidentally rubbing into your skin. 

“I know,” He mumbles.

You want to crack a joke at him, but it doesn’t come out. Instead, the tears return, this time spilling over your lashes and soaking your face. There was such a finality in his tone, one that made you think that maybe this was all real, that he wasn’t lying, and he really was going to leave and never come back. You can feel your heart shattering with every second he doesn’t say anything else, with every second he just holds you in his hand and watches you cry. 

He couldn’t do this to you, not after all the endless nights and early mornings. Not after all the hours spent with his body connected to yours, branding you from the inside as his. He couldn’t just break you after he’d finally put you back together. 

You push his hand away and wipe at your eyes, trying your hardest to control your breathing and calm down. You had to finish this conversation calmly, you had to make sure he was okay. It felt horribly selfish to sob like this after he’d just been the one in a full blown panic attack. You needed to stop, to stifle your emotions until he left so that his last memory of you wasn’t this. 

“Are you…are you okay, now?” You ask with a shaky voice. This was probably the calmest you were going to be at the moment. 

“Yeah, baby, I’m good,” He says.

The world feels like it’s tilted sideways, nothing going the way you wanted it to. You were supposed to be having dinner, curled on your couch next to the man you adored more than you ever thought you could. He’s supposed to have an arm draped around you, not quite holding you but still keeping you close to him. There is supposed to be a shitty movie playing on the TV that the two of you make fun of together between idle kisses and steamy touches. It wasn’t fair.

“I love you,” You can’t stop yourself. “So much.” . 

“I know, baby,” He repeats his own words, reaching to brush hair from your tear-soaked face. He looks like he wants to say something else, but his jaw clenches, silencing himself before he lets whatever it is spill from his lips. 

So the two of you sit on the floor of your apartment in heavy silence. 

Your ankle throbs under you, reminding you of the tumble you’d taken just a moment ago. That seemed to be what had set him off, the more you think about it. He’d been calm when informing you that he was leaving you, and even when you argued with him about it. But it had been when he pushed you, and you got hurt, that he’d crumpled. 

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” You manage to mumble. 

“You didn’t,” He says just as softly, and you know from the look on his face that he’s not talking about his panic attack. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Can you just make something up?” You know you sound pathetic, pleading with him like this, but you can’t help it. “Please, I don’t care if it’s something stupid. I just…I need to know that you have a reason for leaving. Something I can be mad about so this doesn’t hurt so much!” 

He sighs your name with a shake of his head. 

“I can’t.”

“Hah…” You shift and stand, trying not to put too much weight on your injured foot. “What was it you were saying to me earlier? That we don’t fit? Is that really what you want to stick with? What you want me to remember?” 

“What do you want me to say?” He asks, standing now as well. 

“Anything!” You yell, throwing your hands in the air. 

“Like what?!” He yells back, taking a step towards you, invading your space. 

“Tell me that I’m annoying! Tell me that I talk too much, or that I’m messy, or stupid! Lie to me! Or be honest and tell me that you don’t love me!” 

You think he’s stopped breathing, you’ve never seen him so still. It feels like standing in a silent forest, horrible and unnatural and frightening. 

“Is that…what you think?” His voice is low, almost deadly. “You seriously think. That I’m doing this because I don’t love you?” 

“Unless you tell me otherwise, then-”

“Are you stupid?” 

The sudden, vicious anger in his words startles you, all words dying on your tongue as you just stare at him in surprise, your own frustration burning through your body. What gave him the right to sound like that when he was the one who started all this? 

You start to say his name, but one of his hands flies up to cover your mouth, just like he’d done when you’d babbled at him on the first night you met. 

“I’m doing this because I love you. Because being with me is dangerous for you, and I can’t fucking sleep at night anymore thinking about what could happen if someone finds out about you. It’s bad enough that heroes have been sniffing around this neighborhood recently, but if another villain gets their hands on you? Because of me?”

With his hand over your mouth, you can’t say anything. Though, even if you were free to, you’re not sure how you’d even respond to him at all. 

“You make me want to give up on everything. And I swear, if you asked, I’d do it. I’d give up on the revenge that I rightfully fucking deserve just to make you happy, because I can’t stand the idea that what I do could make you miserable.” 

His breathing is hard and angry, eyes wide and wild, and yet not for a single moment do you worry that he could hurt you. He’d scared you for a moment, sure, but now that you were really processing his words, you realize you had no reason to feel that way. He wasn’t angry with you. He hasn’t been this whole time. 

You lift your hands to gently take hold of his wrist, tugging on him to signal that you wanted to speak. His eyes narrow at you, but he allows his palm to be pried from your mouth, and moved to press into your cheek. You make him stand like that for a long time, letting yourself just digest everything he’s said. 

There were a hundred and one things you could say in response to him, but none of them really felt right. Telling him you loved him wouldn’t do much, telling him you understood would be a lie. Allowing him to leave was a big no-go, but brushing this all under the rug felt even worse. When you finally settle on what to say, you’re careful to do it slowly.

“You know…I don’t know that much about you,” You say. “I don’t know why your revenge is so important, I don’t know what kind of people you deal with or have made angry that might try to hurt me. And I don’t know why you pushing me over sent you so over the edge.” 

You look up at him, letting go of his wrist in favor of reaching for his face, to caress it the way he stayed caressing yours. 

“But, I still want you here. I want to love and be loved by you, regardless of if it means that I have to be a little extra vigilant. I don’t care if I have to practice what to say if a hero comes to the door, I don’t care if I have to be ready to jump out the window with you because you need to run and you don’t want to leave me behind. You being a villain, and having enemies, all that doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that you come home at night, that you remember things about me when I tell them to you, even in passing, and that you’re alive. You don’t even have to be safe, if you can’t promise that. Just come home with enough pieces that I can put you back together.” 

He huffs, pulling away but not too far, and covers his face. His shoulders shake and it takes you a moment to realize he’s laughing at you. Your face flushes, a touch of embarrassment making you anxious and antsy. 

Then, he mumbles something. 

“Wh-what?” You ask.

“I can’t cry,” His voice is soft, muffled by his hands but now just loud enough to hear. 

“Huh…?” 

“My face is too fucked up.” 

“Your face isn’t…it’s not-” 

“Baby,” He drops his hands, looking at you with tired eyes and a lopsided grin. “I know what I look like.” 

You let his self deprecating comment slide, just this once. 

“Do you want to cry?” You ask, instead. 

“Right now? A little bit.” 

You pull him impossibly close, one arm around his neck, hand petting the back of his head, the other up under his arm to grip his shoulder from behind. He buries his face into your neck, arms wrapping around you as tightly as he could without hurting you, and the two of you just stand like that for a while. 

You hiss involuntarily when he leans on you a little too hard, your ankle protesting the extra weight. The sound has him jerking away, eyes wide and full of worry. His expression was so foreign to you it was almost laughable. But it was honest, that much you knew. 

“I’m okay,” You say. “I think I rolled my ankle when I fell-” 

“Fuck, baby, I-” He cuts himself off, taking a breath before continuing. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I know,” You say. 

“Let me look at it.” 

You let him lead you to the couch and sit you down, kneeling at your feet so that he can take the injured one into his hands. He bends and twists it slowly, gauging your reactions, muttering soft apologies every time you wince or let out a pained noise. 

“Should ice it,” He says. “Prop it up, don’t use it for a couple days.”

“Yes sir,” You can’t stop yourself from teasing him a bit, grinning ear to ear when he levels you with a dangerous look. 

“Watch it, baby. I just narrowly avoided losing you. I’m wound up enough.” 

“Oh?” You lean forward a bit. “I think we’re both a little wound up.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

He gathers you in his arms and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you squealing and laughing into the bedroom, where he dumps you on the mattress and follows quickly after. He spends the rest of the night kissing you all over, hands refamiliarizing themselves with your body. His teeth leave marks along your shoulder and chest, and the wall ends up with a burn mark from him getting a little too excited. 

This was how things should be.

-

He’s always awake before you, but this was the first time he really laid here like this, looking at you. He watched as the first rays of sunlight stream through the tiny gap in the curtains, illuminating your face in a way he’s sure he’s never seen before. He traces a finger along your features, smiling a bit to himself when your eyebrows furrow, but you don’t wake. 

He, admittedly, feels bad for taking you to bed and being so rough when you were already hurt. He also never explained to you why him hurting you affected him so. To be fair, he hadn’t realized that something like that could bother him. Not after all the people he’d hurt and killed over the past several years. 

But seeing you on the floor, because of him? Hurt by his hands? It had made him feel disgusting, like a monster. It was that moment that he realized that he really was as bad as he’d told himself he was. That everyone told him he was. Everyone but you, that is. 

It cemented in him that his revenge couldn’t be put on hold, because if anyone took you away, it would be his father.

“You have no idea,” He whispers to your sleeping form. “What I’d do for you.” 

You let out a soft, sleepy hum. His first sign that you were really starting to wake up.

“Do you even realize what I would do to this fucking country if I lost you?” He keeps his voice low. “There wouldn’t be anything left. I’d burn it. Do you understand? I’d burn the whole fucking world to ashes, and no one would be able to stop me.”

“Promise?” One eye cracks open, and he’s honestly not sure you actually heart the whole of what he’s said, nor does he think you understood in your mostly-asleep state. 

“Cross my heart, baby.” 

You sigh, giving him another happy, sleepy little hum, and snuggle closer to him. 

“I love you,” He murmurs, kissing the top of your head. 

“Mm…I know.”

[mya-valentine]

February 10th - Let The World Burn by Chris Grey - Ex Husband!Sosuke Aizen x Reader

The world was quiet in the way only the aftermath of destruction could bring—an eerie silence, the air thick with ash and the metallic tang of devastation. You stood amidst the ruins of Karakura Town, your eyes fixed on the horizon. A blood-orange sky bled into the endless fog of despair, casting its ominous glow on the broken world below. You should have been frightened, but fear had long since been replaced by something more numbing: a hollow resignation.

"Sōsuke," you whispered, the name leaving your lips like a prayer and a curse.

"Still saying my name like that," his voice called out from behind you, smooth as silk and just as deceptive. "As if it belongs to you."

You turned to face him, and there he stood, an image of unshakable poise amidst chaos. Sōsuke Aizen, your ex-husband, the man you had once loved more than life itself. His captain's haori fluttered faintly in the wind, though its pristine white was marred by soot and blood. He was no longer the man you had fallen for—the gentle soul with an enigmatic smile and a warm laugh that only you seemed to elicit. No, this Aizen was something entirely different, entirely otherworldly, yet still hauntingly familiar.

"You did this," you said, your voice trembling, anger and sorrow intertwining in equal measure. "You burned everything."

"And I’d do it again," he replied without hesitation, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they roamed your face. "For you."

The weight of his words fell upon you like the collapsing structures of the town. You shook your head, disbelief mingling with the gnawing ache in your chest. "Don't put this on me, Sōsuke. You made your choices."

His gaze softened momentarily, a fleeting flicker of something human behind those cold, calculating eyes. "You think I had a choice?" he asked, stepping closer. "The moment you left, my world began to crumble. Do you truly believe I’d let it fall apart without taking everyone else down with me?"

The wind carried his words, slicing through the air and straight into your heart. Memories flooded back—how it all began, how you had loved him, how he had charmed you with his intellect and quiet strength. You had believed in him, trusted him, stood by his side even as whispers of his ambitions began to surface. And when his true nature was revealed, you had walked away, leaving him and everything you had built together behind.

"You were never satisfied," you said, your voice breaking. "You always wanted more—more power, more control. I couldn't stay and watch you destroy yourself."

"And yet here you are," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Drawn back to me, as if by fate."

You hated how he could still read you so well. Despite everything, a part of you had hoped he could be saved—that somewhere beneath the layers of manipulation and arrogance, the man you once loved still existed. But the look in his eyes told you otherwise. This was not a man who sought redemption. This was a man who would let the world burn for his own desires.

"I came to stop you," you said firmly, though your resolve wavered under his penetrating gaze.

He laughed softly, a sound devoid of warmth. "Stop me? My dear, you should know better. You can’t stop what’s already in motion. The world is my chessboard, and I am its master. And you…" He stepped even closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, like the embers of the destruction he had wrought. "You are my queen."

You recoiled as if struck. "I was never a piece in your game, Sōsuke. And I won’t be now."

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. "You misunderstand," he said softly. "You were never just a piece. You were the reason I played at all."

Tears pricked at your eyes despite yourself. "Then why? Why do this? Why destroy everything?"

His expression darkened, the softness vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Because if I cannot have you, no one can." His voice was calm, but there was a chilling edge to it, an undercurrent of unyielding obsession. "I let you go once, and it nearly destroyed me. I won’t make the same mistake again."

"You can't control me," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desperation. "I’m not yours to keep."

His eyes glinted with something dangerous, something unrelenting. "Aren’t you?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Even now, you carry the mark of my love, whether you acknowledge it or not."

He was right, and you hated him for it. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how far you had run, the ghost of him lingered—his touch, his words, his very presence etched into your soul like a scar. But you couldn’t let him win. Not this time.

"You’re a fool, Sōsuke," you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. "You think love is about possession, about control. But love is sacrifice. It’s letting go."

A flicker of emotion crossed his face—regret, perhaps, or something close to it. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Love is power," he countered. "And I will wield it as I see fit."

With that, the ground beneath you began to tremble. The sky darkened further, the air thickening with reiatsu so oppressive it felt as though the world itself was suffocating. He was showing you the extent of his power, the lengths he would go to keep you bound to him.

"Sōsuke, stop!" you cried, but your voice was drowned out by the deafening roar of the collapsing world around you.

"Do you see now?" he said, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "This is what I am willing to do for you. For us."

But there was no "us" anymore. There hadn’t been for a long time. And as much as it tore at your heart, you knew what you had to do. You summoned every ounce of strength within you, focusing your reiatsu into a single, desperate attack. If you couldn’t reach the man you once loved, then you would stop the monster he had become.

"I’m sorry, Sōsuke," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

The blast of your energy collided with his, a brilliant explosion of light and power that illuminated the ruins of Karakura Town. When the dust settled, you were on your knees, gasping for breath. Aizen stood before you, seemingly unscathed, though his expression was unreadable.

"You’re strong," he said, almost admiringly. "Stronger than I gave you credit for."

"It doesn’t matter," you said, forcing yourself to your feet. "I’ll keep fighting you, Sōsuke. Until my last breath, I’ll fight."

He studied you for a long moment, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. "Perhaps that’s why I loved you," he said finally. "Your fire, your defiance. It’s intoxicating."

"Then let me go," you pleaded, your voice breaking. "If you ever truly loved me, let me go."

For a moment, you thought he might. His hand twitched at his side, his expression softening just enough to give you hope. But then, he stepped back, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"No," he said simply. "I’d rather let the world burn."

And with that, he vanished, leaving you alone amidst the ashes of what once was. You sank to the ground, your strength finally giving out. The battle was far from over, but in that moment, all you could do was mourn—mourn the man you had loved, the life you had lost, and the world that had been consumed by his ambition.

As the blood-orange sky darkened into night, you whispered his name one last time, the echo of it swallowed by the silence of a world on the brink of oblivion.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[etz-ashashiyot]

In the wake of the Sandy Hook shooting, there were lots of discussions about meaningful gun control which never came to fruition. And I remember reading it said somewhere that "the conversation on gun control ended with Sandy Hook." Because that was the nightmare scenario, right? That was what advocates were putting out there as a real possibility, a worst case scenario, to shake people out of their selfishness in order to prioritize school children over their desire to feel important and powerful. "What if someone had access to a high-capacity weapon and shot up a bunch of kindergarteners and school teachers?" And people on the other side put this down as fear mongering and unrealistic.

Until it happened.

But the thing is that they were already fine with this nightmare scenario; they just didn't want to admit that to themselves or others yet. Then Sandy Hook happened, and people sent their self-serving thoughts and meaningless prayers instead of putting on their big boy pants and accepting that they were wrong and change was needed to protect kids.

Nothing since that extreme moral failure has materially changed, and thus the conversation was effectively over. There is nothing - no horrifying scenario - too severe for opponents of sane gun control laws to actually budge on this issue. They will prioritize this hobby and power fantasy over everything, including the lives of small children just attending school.

Why am I on about this? Because that's what October 8th was, for Jews. October 7th was the nightmare scenario, but October 8th was when the conversation on the rights of Jews to live and on antisemitism ended. "Social justice activists" ripped down posters of the Bibas children. Previously reputable women's groups denied the mass rapes and never apologized after the fact. Leftists started shrieking about genocide before the victims' blood had even cooled (never mind Israel actually responding militarily). Major news sources and human rights orgs and international legal bodies sided with terrorists over and over and over again. People in academia denied the obvious facts of Jewish history in the Levant. Diaspora Jews who didn't immediately and completely capitulate were forced out of public spaces and advocacy groups - some of which we founded - and those who were allowed to stay were regularly subjected to ideological purity tests. Jewish public spaces and individuals around the world were attacked in "protest" of the actions of a government we have no say in for the crime of not wishing death on half of our global population. People who in the past gleefully jumped on the "punch Nazis!" bandwagon now actively engage in Holocaust inversion, denial, and/or colonization, spitting our trauma back at us because punching someone in their broken arm to "teach them a lesson" is somehow not abuse in their eyes when directed at us.

What will it take?

The question is answered; the conversation is over. The answer is nothing.

There is nothing that is too disgusting or cruel that they will not either turn a blind eye to at best, or actively support. They don't just want us dead. They want us to suffer terribly, and then die. And then they want to kill us again by disrespecting the bodies of our dead, again by erasing our names from our own trauma and history, and again by mutilating the memories of the dead for whatever purpose serves their narrative best. They don't want us to live in the diaspora. They don't want us to live in eretz Yisrael. They don't want us to live; they want us to die horrible deaths and then gibbet our dead who can no longer speak for themselves as puppets for whatever story they want to tell. And this, not even outside of living memory of the Shoah.

It's over. Until there is a true moral reckoning that has so far not happened in 2000+ years, any potential conversation that maybe might have been able to happen in the wake of the Shoah was slaughtered on October 8th and the conversation is done.

Edit: This is not directed at OP, who has been throughout this whole nightmare, the exception that proves the rule. Thank you for caring about us, truly; your support means so much, particularly in light of others' apathy.

Jewish hostages emerge from 16 months of underground captivity emaciated, broken and bewildered, looking for all the world like concentration camp survivors, and the world is silent.

Returned female hostages give graphic and horrifying accounts of sexual assault and torture, and the world is silent.

Antisemitic abuse and hate crime has skyrocketed, Jews are traumatised and terrified and in deep pain, that is celebrated and laughed at, and the world is silent.

THE WORLD IS SILENT.

WHAT WILL IT ACTUALLY TAKE FOR PEOPLE TO GIVE A SHIT??

I just don’t understand. I never will.

[aventurineswife]

Hello I hope you have a good day :3

May I request Sunday, Aventurine, Jiaoqiu and Moze with the reader who is like Nikki from Shining Nikki?

Reader is kind and thoughtful, despite their enthusiasm, they still an introvert and somewhat modest about their abilities.

I hope my silly request won't be difficult for you 🥺

The Heart's Unseen Light

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Moze x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Nikki (Shining Nikki) based Reader, Emotional Intensity, Romance, Inner Conflict, Quiet Strength, Healing and Compassion, Self-Doubt, Empathy, Vulnerability, Philosophical Themes, Idealism vs. Reality, Mentorship Quiet Resilience, Supportive Relationships.

Warnings: Mild emotional tension, Internal conflict, Vulnerability, Subtle romantic undertones, Mentorship and guidance.

The scent of rich coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air of the high-rise building’s expansive office. You sat in the corner, a soft smile gracing your lips as you adjusted the delicate fabric of your blouse, its soft hues complementing the quiet elegance you always wore. The hum of the bustling office barely reached you; you preferred the solitude of your own thoughts, your introverted nature finding peace in the quiet moments.

Aventurine, however, was a world apart from your serene existence. His flamboyant energy seemed to electrify the space as he strode into the room, his eyes flicking over to you. He always seemed to bring a burst of vibrant life with him, a stark contrast to your more understated presence.

"Ah, there you are," Aventurine’s voice cut through the air, smooth and rich with the cadence of someone used to getting what they wanted. He gave you one of his signature smiles—a charming, calculated expression that masked his true intentions. "I trust you're not too buried in work today, are you?"

You looked up from the papers you’d been absently flicking through, your cheeks heating slightly. Despite your best efforts, it was hard to ignore the magnetic presence he commanded. You shook your head, offering him a polite smile.

“No, just catching up on a few things. It’s a quiet day,” you replied softly, not wanting to make too much noise, even though you secretly enjoyed his presence.

He raised an eyebrow, his earring catching the light as his gaze lingered on you for a moment too long. “A quiet day?” He leaned closer, the warmth of his smile almost overwhelming. “I doubt anything with you ever stays quiet for long.”

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling a slight flutter in your chest. Aventurine was always so self-assured, so bold, and you were... well, you were you—kind, thoughtful, and content with being in the background. Still, you couldn't help but be intrigued by him. Beneath the mask of charm and the dazzling exterior, there were cracks, little hints that there was something more beneath the surface. Something vulnerable, though he hid it well.

“I’m just...” You paused, unsure how to express it. “I like to take things slowly, I guess.” You stammered out a laugh, trying to keep the conversation light, even as the slightest bit of anxiety bubbled within.

Aventurine seemed to sense the shift in your energy. He leaned back slightly, tilting his head as he studied you, a glimmer of genuine curiosity behind his eyes. "Slowly, you say?" His voice softened, almost contemplative. "I suppose not everyone is as eager to race ahead as I am. But," he flashed his signature grin again, "I’ve always admired people who know when to take a step back. It’s an art form, really."

You felt your cheeks burn at his words, unsure how to respond. You were modest about your talents, always so aware of your limitations compared to others, especially someone like him. His unrelenting self-confidence made you want to retreat further into your shell, but there was something about his words—something genuine—that made you want to stay.

“I don’t know about art,” you murmured, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “I’m just... trying to do what I can, when I can.”

Aventurine’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before returning, more subtly this time. His eyes softened as he observed you. “You’re not like most people, are you?” he said, more to himself than to you, though you could still hear the underlying admiration in his voice.

You glanced up at him, surprised by the sincerity that flashed in his eyes. Before you could process his words, he placed a hand gently on the back of your chair, the weight of his touch sending an unexpected warmth through you. "Keep playing it your way," he continued, his tone low and quiet. "Sometimes the greatest moves are the ones nobody sees coming."

Aventurine straightened, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face, as if the moment had never happened. But you could feel the change, the way his presence lingered longer than it usually did.

“Now,” he said, eyes twinkling once more with that familiar mischievousness, “I believe there’s a certain game I’m due to win. Care to join me?”

The dimly lit training room smelled faintly of incense and leather, an environment where every step felt deliberate, every action precise. You stood in front of a mirror, adjusting the strap of your gear, and tried to steady your nerves. Your heart raced, but you fought the fluttering inside, your thoughts swirling with doubt. It wasn’t that you were afraid—no, it was just... you never quite felt like you belonged in the world of secrecy and shadow where Moze thrived.

Moze, for his part, remained a silent figure at the back of the room. His eyes were sharp as ever, watching you with a quiet intensity that made your chest tighten. The Shadow Guard rarely spoke, his presence like an impenetrable wall of cool detachment. Yet, there was a certain weight to his silence that you had come to understand. He was always analyzing, always calculating, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he saw when he looked at you.

"How is your technique?" His voice cut through the stillness, low and unyielding, yet without a trace of judgment. His presence loomed behind you, but he gave you the space you needed to answer.

You exhaled softly, fighting to keep your hands steady. "I think it’s... okay," you said, modest as always. "I’m not as fast as I should be, but I’m trying." You straightened your stance, trying to appear more confident than you felt.

A single eyebrow arched ever so slightly, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something in Moze’s eyes—something that wasn’t just cold calculation, but perhaps a hint of acknowledgment. "Trying is all any of us can do," he said, his words almost a rarity for someone who spoke so little. "It’s not about speed. It’s about control."

You turned to face him, unsure if he was speaking about the mission ahead or about you. But Moze's gaze never wavered, and for some reason, his presence settled the anxiety gnawing at your stomach. Despite his stoic nature, he seemed to understand more than he let on.

"I don't want to disappoint anyone," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Especially you."

There was a brief silence before Moze took a single step closer. His violet eyes never left yours, but there was something about the way his gaze softened, just for a fraction of a moment, that made your heart skip a beat.

"You won’t disappoint," Moze said, his tone as cold and detached as always. But there was a depth in his words that made you believe him, despite yourself.

You were surprised at the small warmth you felt from his reassurance, though you didn’t dare show it. Moze had always been a man of few words, and even fewer emotions. Yet, in this brief exchange, you realized that there was more to him than just the hardened exterior of the assassin.

"Don’t overthink it," he continued, stepping back, his demeanor returning to its usual icy calm. "Perfection is a myth. It’s about finding your own rhythm. I trust you’ll do what’s necessary."

You nodded, still a bit overwhelmed by the brief connection you’d shared. As Moze disappeared into the shadows, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of determination build within you. Perhaps, just like him, you had the strength to endure, no matter the challenges ahead.

The golden halo behind Sunday’s head shimmered faintly as he gazed into the night sky, a small but visible crack in his otherwise serene expression. The Astral Express was quiet at this hour, the rhythmic hum of the train offering a comforting backdrop to his thoughts. Yet, a certain warmth had settled beside him—one that, despite his ever-present calm, stirred something deep within him.

It was you.

You sat beside him on the deck, a cup of tea held gently in your hands, the steam rising in delicate tendrils. Your presence was always a balm to him, a reminder of the quiet beauty that could be found in the world, even amidst his turbulent soul.

“Are you troubled?” you asked softly, your voice like a soft breeze that broke through the tension he could never seem to shake. You were perceptive, always knowing when something weighed on him, though you rarely pushed him to speak. It was a trait that Sunday had come to admire deeply, even if he couldn’t quite figure out why you seemed so different from others who had tried to approach him in the past.

He turned his gaze to you, his expression unreadable. Yet, there was something in his eyes—something tender, something only you seemed to understand. “I wonder,” he began, his voice soft but filled with unspoken gravity, “if people like me are capable of true happiness. I’ve seen so much suffering… and, sometimes, I wonder if my vision is just a fleeting illusion.”

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup before setting it down. Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but you knew Sunday was not one to be swayed by fleeting emotions. His inner conflict ran deep, shaped by his past and his ideals.

“You’ve helped so many, Sunday,” you said quietly, your voice steady but warm. “Perhaps the answer isn’t in achieving perfect happiness. Perhaps it’s in the moments you bring light to others… even when the world feels heavy.”

His wings fluttered slightly at the edge of his ears, a subtle indication of the emotions he didn’t often show. He leaned back, his gaze now softening as he took in your words.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he murmured, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual melancholic demeanor. "But how can I keep fighting when the road ahead feels so uncertain?"

You leaned closer, gently touching his hand in a gesture of comfort. The warmth of your touch grounded him, making the weight of his doubts feel a little lighter. You had always been a source of peace for him, in a way he couldn’t fully explain.

“We don’t have to have all the answers, Sunday,” you said with a quiet sincerity that made his heart skip a beat. “But as long as we keep walking forward, we can find meaning in what we do—no matter how small it may seem.”

Sunday’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply be present. The world outside seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the vast expanse of the stars.

“I suppose that’s enough,” he whispered, a fragile but hopeful smile gracing his lips.

The air in the Yaoqing war tent was thick with the scent of alchemical potions and herbs. Jiaoqiu moved with quiet precision, his hands steady despite the fatigue that clung to him. His eyes, sharp yet closed, betrayed nothing of the torment that simmered beneath his calm exterior. He had grown used to the constant cycle of life and death, but it never became easier.

You had been assisting him for days now, and despite your modest nature, your quiet determination had earned his trust. He could feel the gentleness in your touch, the careful way you adjusted bandages or prepared the healing mixtures. Despite your introverted demeanor, there was an energy to you that couldn’t be ignored—a warmth that contrasted the grim atmosphere of the battlefield.

Jiaoqiu paused as you approached, your soft steps barely a whisper against the stone floor. You were carrying a fresh batch of herbs for the next round of medicine, your usual enthusiasm tempered by the heaviness of the war surrounding you.

“Here,” you said quietly, offering the herbs to him with a modest smile. “I thought these might help with the soldiers’ recovery.”

He reached for the herbs, his fingers brushing against yours. For a moment, you froze, the subtle connection sparking an unexpected warmth within you. Jiaoqiu’s seemed to sense your presence in a way that was both disarming and comforting.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice as smooth and gentle as always. “You have a kind heart, even if you don’t show it often.”

You shifted, embarrassed by the compliment. Despite your kindness, you always found it difficult to accept praise, especially from someone as composed as Jiaoqiu. “I—I just want to help,” you stammered. “I’m not as skilled as you.”

Jiaoqiu smiled, the edges of his lips curving upward in a way that softened his usually serious demeanor. “Skills can be taught,” he replied, his voice laced with wisdom. “But the heart—the desire to help others—that is something much rarer. You have that in abundance.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your heart flutter, both touched and overwhelmed. Despite the war, despite the losses he had witnessed, Jiaoqiu was still able to recognize the goodness in others, even when it was hidden behind quiet modesty.

“You’re doing more than you realize,” he continued, his voice growing more thoughtful. “In a world like this, your compassion is a rare gift. Don’t ever doubt the difference you make.”

Your eyes met his for a brief moment, and though his vision was clouded, there was a depth to his gaze that made you feel understood in a way you hadn’t expected. He didn’t need to see to understand the weight you carried, the burden of war that had been etched into your soul.

“You—thank you,” you said softly, the words barely more than a whisper.

He nodded, a quiet understanding passing between you. “No need to thank me. Just… keep being who you are. That is more than enough.”

As you turned to leave, Jiaoqiu’s voice stopped you. “You’ll be all right, you know. In this world full of chaos, your light will always shine through.”

The words, simple as they were, made your heart swell. Despite the ongoing battle, despite the never-ending struggle, you knew that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t walking this path alone. And perhaps, just perhaps, that was enough to keep going.

[luiluvr]

ok disclaimer this request is based off tiktok comments which we don't know are true 😭 but you and college!luigi are part of the same friend group and you all go on a camping trip together, you *thought* you'd be sharing a tent with one of your best girl friends but turns out she's brought her bf last minute leaving you without one so you tent up with luigi. but that. mother. FUCKER!! cannot stop snoring and you can't fall asleep at all so eventually you wake him up and are like bro please 😭 but he's so sweet about it and a lil embarrassed and offers to stay up while you fall asleep so he doesn't bug you cause he's a cutie

oh boy oh boy i have been ACHING to write something about his snoring ☹️☹️

WARNINGS: none! just lu being sweet to you and snoring.. a lot, and uses of Y/N.. this is also shorter i'm working on another request that'll be longer <333

“Should I kill her now or later?” You thought, as your best friend broke news you both would not be sharing a tent. When this camping trip was planned, you specifically wanted to share a tent with her. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing, it was the fact you had always shared a tent with her in the past — so you were naturally used to her presence when your friend group had these little trips. That was a lost cause now. Unbeknownst to you, she invited her boyfriend last minute and decided they would be sharing a tent.

You stare at her blankly as her boyfriend smiles, “So…What am I supposed to do?” You ask her.

“Uhh, I don’t know.” She says quietly, clearly she didn’t think it through either. It was a few minutes of silence before her boyfriend spoke up and responded, “Luigi’s not sharing a tent with anyone. you may ask him. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind it.”

Luigi Mangione. One of the more loved people at college, you had ended up in a bigger friend group with him; so you knew him but only so much. He was a typical person that all the girls were always crushing on, sneaking pictures of, there was even a rumored group chat where they’d talk and send pictures of him. Sure, he was handsome but was it that serious?

You nod. Luigi was a really nice person, so you didn’t doubt he would tell you no. It’s the fact your best friend should’ve mentioned it two hours ago when you all originally left for the trip. “Alright.” You said quietly, by now everyone was arranging their tents and Luigi — he was busy watching the stream. He always enjoyed the little things and admired nature. He was- from what you knew- fairly shy. For someone always so out there, so smart and always up for going places besides campus; he was incredibly introverted.

He had plenty of friends, but he never bonded on a deep level, you knew that much from other people who knew him better.

You shove your hands in your pocket and sigh, walking over to him, smiling awkwardly as you watch the current rush and wash over the rocks inside. Occasionally a small fish would wiggle and swim in the crystal colored waters. You clear your throat and speak up finally, “Hey, Luigi?”

His head turns — his jawline dotted with stubble, and a warm smile welcomes you. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get caught up in his gaze, his hazel eyes are so entrancing. You can’t help but look away as you ask, “Would you be alright if I stay in your tent? Riri brought her boyfriend and decided at the last minute to tell me they’re bunking together so I don’t have anywhere to sleep now.” He chuckles, nodding to you. “Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Thank you so much, Luigi.”

“Of course.”

You and your friends spent most of the afternoon setting up, you’d spend the rest of the weekend hiking, exploring and enjoying each other’s company. Luigi had taken your sleeping bag and set up the inside of the tent, he didn’t make you do anything, you were “his” guest—as he put it.

By evening, the campfire was lit, lighting up the smiles of your friends; the mix of conversation and laughs filled the air. You sat comfortably on your favorite lawn chair, a maroon rackety-old thing that held up like a warrior. Luigi moved closer beside you, quietly and shimmied comfortably in his chair.

“Oh yeah, Y/N, heads up, Luigi snores a lot, so good luck.” You tilt your head, Luigi? Snores? You highly doubted that. But oh, was Riri’s boyfriend right.

Before you initially got in the tent, you had spent a few minutes talking to your other friends about things you all may do tomorrow, you heard some noises but passed it off. That was, until you climbed into the tent, Luigi was already passed out, softly snoring. It’s not that bad. You thought. It was rather chilly, but he still slept shirtless, comfortably curled up in the sleeping bag. His curls were the only sight from this angle.

You got comfortable in your own sleeping bag and exhaled, relieved to finally get to rest after the long trip. Inevitably, as your eyes began to flutter shut, Luigi let out this snore. It scared you back awake. You realized it was just him; and nothing of actual worry — you slightly peered over at him, although the tent was dark, the tiny bits of moonlight that managed its way through freckled his calm, handsome complexion.

He had stopped for the moment, so you assume he only does it every so often and you could stand sleeping with his snores beside you.

Alas, you huddled down, zipped the sleeping bag and nuzzled into the soft cushioning. Your eyes closed, body relaxed. The quiet buzzes of nature make it feel more realistic and comforting.

Then he snored.

It wasn’t that bad, so you let him snore on; and continued to try and pursue slumber, but as the night progressed, it got deeper and louder. You had managed to fall asleep but were woken right away by his snores, it was honestly annoying but simultaneously endearing. He was so sweet you couldn’t be mad at him for it, though anyone else you would have woken and told to go sleep somewhere else — it was different with Lu.

After some time though, you realized how late it had gotten, almost 4AM, you needed to sleep or you wouldn’t want to do anything tomorrow with the group. Gently, you grasp his shoulder and shake him. It only elicits a bigger snore, and a flinch from yourself. You give it a moment, not wanting to scare him awake.

“Luigi.” You whispered, nudging him a little harder this time. He groans, shifting ever so slightly and slowly coming to.

“Y/N?” His tone was so sleepy, mumbled and kind of cute.

“Hey…I’m not trying to be rude, but you’re snoring a lot.” You chuckle, quietly.

“I’m so sorry,” He says as he sits up, his muscles flexed as he stretched a bit. “I know I snore pretty roughly, my older sister hated sharing a room with me when we were younger.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, “I get it, I didn’t want to seem like an asshole about it or act like it’s a world-ending thing that you’re snoring…”

“No, no. You’re fine Y/N, thanks for waking me up. I had a lot of signs of sleep apnea when I was younger, I struggled with it for a while. When I snore all night it makes my throat hurt.” He states, rubbing his arm. You nod, he was too nice about it. Whenever you confronted a sibling or roommate about snoring they told you to ignore it or get earplugs. Not Luigi.

“How about this,” He says, staying quiet so as to not wake everyone sleeping in the tents beside yours. “I’ll stay awake until you fall asleep and you’re good — then I’ll go back to sleep too so I won’t disturb you. Is that okay?”

He was offering such a sweet little thing, it wasn’t that big of a deal but for you it meant everything.

You agreed, it seemed the only logical conclusion and he was willing to lack his own sleep just so you could rest comfortably without his snoring. “That’s really nice of you, Luigi, thank you.”

“Of course.” Even in the dim light, his smile lines carved and dimples became more prominent, somehow his face lit the darkness alone.

And that’s exactly what you did, he shared a blanket he brought, covered you and as you tucked yourself in, he stayed sitting up and relaxed, he wouldn’t admit it but he did watch you for a bit just to make sure you were comfortable and you were able to fall asleep — which you were; and you did.

The next morning — almost afternoon, the group was buzzing as they snacked on granola bars and sipped on water or coffee they kept in thermal cups. Luigi had exchanged into a blue tank top with a Lion King reference on the front and those lousy basketball shorts all the boys seemed to enjoy wearing, despite them looking goofy.

As you managed around, got changed in your tent for a day of exploring and probable hiking, Lu approached you with a sly smile.

“Good morning.” He hums.

“Morning, Luigi.” You replied.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yes, I actually did. Thank you, again by the way.” You said cheerfully.

“Yeah, it’s no problem! I guess that’ll be our routine while we’re tenting up together.” He laughs, leaning against a small tree nearby.

“Suppose so.” You nod.

“Oh and by the way, Y/N?”

“Yes, Luigi?”

“You snore. A lot.”

[arcadia-smith]

Falling out of love. (I know how this feels, and I am sorry in advance.)

Bucky Barnes x reader

It was the small things you noticed first—how he stopped reaching for you when he woke up in the mornings, how the soft smiles had turned into tight-lipped ones, how he barely held your hand anymore. How the nights were always colder.

You tried to fix it. You always tried. You stayed up late, writing him letters, hoping he would talk to you about the ghosts he couldn't outrun. You cooked meals he liked, did everything to make him feel safe, loved, wanted. But it wasn’t enough.

You don’t remember the last time you felt at home in Bucky’s arms.

Maybe it was weeks ago, curled up on the couch, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back. Or maybe it was months ago, when he kissed you in the rain and promised he wasn’t going anywhere.

But now, standing in your shared apartment, you realize something awful—you’ve been losing him for a long time.

And he let you.

The air is thick with silence, the kind that presses against your ribs and makes it hard to breathe. Bucky leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, looking at the floor. He won’t meet your eyes. Won’t say anything to stop this.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "You don’t love me anymore."

His head snaps up, eyes wide. "That’s not true."

"Then say something, Bucky." Your voice cracks, and you hate it, hate how desperate you sound. "Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me this—this thing between us isn’t dying."

His metal fingers curl into a fist. His jaw clenches. But he doesn’t speak.

Because you’re not wrong.

You let out a trembling breath. "I keep waiting for you to fight for us. But you won’t, will you?"

His throat bobs like he’s trying to swallow back something sharp. When he finally speaks, it’s barely above a whisper.

"I don’t know how."

You close your eyes, and for a moment, you wish he’d lied. You wish he’d told you that things would get better, that he’d try harder, that he wants to fix this. But he won’t. He can’t.

And the worst part? You understand.

You step closer, reaching out like muscle memory, like maybe if you touch him, you can remind him what you are to each other. What you were.

Your fingers brush against his vibranium hand, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky pulls away.

It feels like a bullet to the chest.

Tears burn in your eyes. "You don’t get to do this."

His breath shudders. "Do what?"

"Let me love you just enough to keep me here but never enough to make me stay."

Something in his expression cracks. You see it—the regret, the pain, the love that still lingers but isn’t enough to hold onto.

Bucky Barnes, the man who once held you like you were the only thing keeping him breathing, is now standing in front of you, letting you go.

And that’s what breaks you.

You nod slowly, like you’ve finally accepted what your heart refused to believe. "Okay."

His eyes snap to yours, panic flashing in the blue depths. "Okay?"

"You don’t have to say anything else," you whisper. "I get it now."

You grab your bag off the counter, fingers trembling. You’re still hoping, deep down, that he’ll stop you. That he’ll say something, anything, to make you stay.

But Bucky just stands there, silent and still.

And that silence is the loudest heartbreak you’ve ever heard.

Your voice wavers. "I love you, Bucky."

He squeezes his eyes shut, his whole body tensing. When he opens them, they’re red-rimmed, full of everything he won’t say.

"I know."

That’s it.

That’s all he gives you.

You let out a choked laugh, shaking your head. "God, I wish that was enough."

Then you walk away.

You make it to the door before you hear him whisper your name, so soft you almost think you imagined it. But you don’t stop. Because if you do, you might never leave.

The door clicks shut behind you.

And this time, Bucky doesn’t chase after you.

Because he never has.

And he never will.

[fairyminnie444]

Inertia Method: How to Fix Your New Identity in the Subconscious ︵‿୨♱୧‿︵

In the context of the Law of Assumption, inertia means that the state you’re in tends to continue until you consciously change it.

Your current state—how you see yourself, what you believe to be true about your life—has been constructed through unconscious repetition and acceptance. If you don’t actively change your identity, your reality will continue to reflect what’s already ingrained in you.

Example of Inertia in Practice

𖤝 If you’ve always seen yourself as someone who struggles to make money, that identity continues automatically, effortlessly, because it’s already ingrained.

𖤝 If you consciously shift into the identity of someone who’s a millionaire and maintain that assumption, your new reality will take hold and maintain itself in the same way the old one did.

The key is to saturate your mind with the new identity until it becomes your new inertia. At that point, you don’t have to “try” anymore—reality will just naturally respond to your new state.

𓉸ྀི THE METHOD 𓉸ྀི

To saturate your mind and make your new identity become your natural inertia, you need to have ready answers for when doubts arise. The goal is that, instead of fighting against 3D, you condition your mind to only accept your new reality as an absolute fact. Here are some techniques you can apply in your daily life to stay grounded:

1. Corrected Self-Talk (Absolute Control of the Narrative) ༯

When a doubt or negative thought arises, you immediately correct it without hesitation. Don’t argue, don’t rationalize—replace it on the spot.

❌ Doubt: “What if this is all a delusion?”

✅ Response: “Nothing is more real than my certainty. 3D is just adjusting.”

❌ Doubt: “But what if it doesn’t happen?”

✅ Response: “It already happened. I only see what I already know to be mine.”

✘ This is automatic. There can be no room for questioning. ✘

2. “Closed Loop” Technique (There Is No Other Option) ༯

You act as if the other possibility doesn’t even exist. Your mind only has one story to repeat.

🥀 Example: If doubt arises, you respond internally:

𖤝 “I am (insert your desire here). That’s a fact.”

𖤝 “It’s always been this way. How could it be different?”

𖤝 “What I am, 3D reflects. I know who I am.”

✘ You create a mental loop where only this truth exists. ✘

3. Calculated Reaction to 3D (Total Control of Emotions) ༯

If something in 3D tries to challenge your assumption, you don’t react negatively. You treat anything as something irrelevant and temporary.

📌 Example: If your sp still doesn’t text you or acted like you want, instead of doubting, you think:

🖤 “Obviously it’s already worked. It doesn’t mean anything.”

🖤 “My success is already real. Time is irrelevant.”

🖤 “I’m on top. The rest is just adjustment.”

✘ The key is to treat anything that isn’t your assumption as insignificant and transitory. ✘

4. Saturation Through Repetition (Relentless Affirmations) ༯

You constantly reaffirm, as if you’re reminding yourself of something that’s always been true. This isn’t to manifest, it’s to reinforce your identity.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🦇་༘࿐ Examples of short, powerful affirmations:

𖤝 “I’m a millionaire and always have been.”

𖤝 “My beauty is surreal and everyone notices it.”

𖤝 “My life has always been perfect.”

𖤝 “I am desired, idolized, and untouchable.”

✘ Use this as a mental pattern throughout the day. ✘

5. “Mandela Effect” Technique (Erase Old Reality) ༯

If your mind tries to remind you of the past or a “problem,” you change the memory right away.

📌 Example: If you remember a difficult time in the past, you immediately correct yourself:

🖤 “It never happened like this. It was always easy.”

🖤 “I’ve always been a millionaire.”

🖤 “I am my SP’s absolute priority, I always have been.”

✘ You literally rewrite your story in your mind until it becomes automatic. ✘

6. Congruent Behavior (Act As If It’s Already True) ༯

You act and make decisions like the version of yourself that already has it all. This sends a clear signal to your mind that there is no other option.

🥀 If you’re already a millionaire: You don’t feel anxious about money. You just know you have it.

🥀 You already have your SP. You don't care if he/she is in thinking of you or not. You know they are.

🥀 If your life is perfect: You don't act like someone who's still trying.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Bottom line ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

✔ Always immediately correct any thoughts outside of the new identity.

✔ Never react negatively to 3D.

✔ Keep mentally repeating your assumption all day long.

✔ Erase any old memories or beliefs that don’t serve you.

✔ Act as if it is already real—because it is.

The more you practice this, the faster 3D bends to reflect your new inertia.

[retiredteabag]

sorry for informality but i was stalking reading your pinned post and you’re in grad school at twenty!??!!!

unless i’m tripping or misunderstanding something, academic weapon tips please because holy shit that’s insane! what’s ur field of study if you want to talk about it/don’t mind me asking? any application tips/things you wished you knew before getting there/habits you wished you’d formed sooner? independent research has always been difficult for me because of how much i depend on structure (adhd imposter syndrome anxiety lets go) so if you’re working on a thesis/something similar, how has the process been in your experience?

i’m in undergrad atm and heavily debating going further, so i’d love to hear from someone my age who’s actually doing it! also unrelated, but i’m a certified notion/goodnotes girlie if you vibe with those as study resources!

🎸 tagging with an emoji in case i pop back around, yk?

I'm sorry to say, but my tips might come off as sort of typical... but I hope they're at least a little helpful!

I am currently in a masters program within the analytics field. Research/independent studies vary widely depending on the area of specialization, however, my program has an intensive practicum that is similar in nature. I have not started it yet, but what I can say for sure when it comes to research: make sure you are picking a topic that you could speak about for hours/answer argumentative questions about.

For applications, I would say to narrow your options down as much as possible and look into each program before applying. Know the curriculum and standard outline and what stands out to you as you decide.

^ on this same note, you will likely need at least one interview in the application process. Speak slowly and enunciate. Taking a moment to think of the proper words will always be better than speaking quickly without much thought. Most people say to use "down-speak" in these interviews, but in my experience, matching the examiners tone and energy makes the whole thing much more comfortable.

For study tips, I have a large notebook that I keep on my desk where I write down every assignment and the date that it is due. This is just for organization purposes, I find a physical copy helpful for a few reasons but also because crossing them off feels rewarding :]

Time managment is incredibly important. Everyone says this because it is true. Prep everything, organizing your day into chunks. Since you also like structure, this probably wont be an issue. I would also get comfortable with being self-aware of your priorities. There will come a time when you will need to choose between academics/work and other areas of your life.

Keep your spaces clean. Dedicate a day or so to just organizing/doing a deep clean. It will help you stay focused and minimize external anxiety. It’s also much easier to keep a place clean if you have put in such an effort.

Participate in class. I cannot make this clear enough. I promise it is not embarrassing to ask questions or "try". You will learn far easier if you put effort into the classroom/lecture setting.

It is a pretty typical "tip" is to just ask questions. Even if you feel like you might understand, just ask to make sure. And in this same vein, go to office hours if you need to.

Prioritize sleep lol, that and mental rest. You can't always be studying. For me, it is a real challenge to work and be full time in school so it's important to carve out those sections of "you time".

Try not to be on your phone tooooooooo much, I know it’s hard but I make an effort to not be on my phone while eating. Don’t use entertainment as a distraction, I find that it just delays anxiety :(

Lastly, apply for scholarships and know that you absolutely can appeal for more money.

I hope this was useful. Do know that it REALLY depends on your area of study and 5-year-plan. I would recommend not going to grad school unless you're absolutely sure it is worth it.

Good luck!

[f4ggydog]

Big dick lottie having her way with jackie in doomcoming instead of travis bc “it’s what the wilderness wants” and jackie doesn’t wanna die a virgin

warnings: this is both smut and dubcon incoming. if you're uncomfortable with either or are a minor, please leave. thank you!

"I heard your conversation with shauna." lottie kneels down next to jackie, donning her antler queen outfit fitted with her crown. jackie's not interested in much chit chat with her. she wants travis to crawl on top of her and get this over with. if she's not going to make it out of this forest, she won't do so without losing her virginity.

"that's none of your business," jackie replies.

"no, I think it is my business actually. do you think you could get away with what you were about to do so easily?"

"leave me alone," jackie grumbles. "you can't blame a girl for trying. I've gotta lose it one way or another."

"so you give up your dignity to a pathetic man who doesn't even give a shit about you? a pathetic scumbag who's supposed to be with nat?"

"oh please, as if either of them give a shit about each other. they're both just in it for the sex. and so am i."

"you know what we call girls like that, jackie?"

jackie rolls her eyes and leaves no room for a response. she stands up and attempts to leave, but lottie drags her back down by her dress.

"I didn't say you could leave."

"you're such a weirdo," jackie mumbles, attempting to leave again. lottie doesn't allow her to. she's adamant about jackie staying and she won't let her little captain leave until fun has been had.

"where do you think you're going?" lottie interrogates, shoving jackie fiercely into the dirt. jackie winces and her legs wiggle as lottie stands tall and proud above her.

"you're being a freak," jackie complains. it's all she's done since she entered the wilderness. not pitch in, not assist with chores, not collaborate as a team, but complain and whine. and she was a sad excuse for a captain. she could hardly hold her own out here. it all started to make sense why coach chose her for her passion and not her skill.

"and you base your worth on your virginity," lottie chuckles, shaking her head. "fucking depressing. do you think you exist as breeding material alone, jackie?"

"okay, geez. what the fuck are you on about?"

"if you want to act like a horny bitch," lottie says. "you may, but you won't be doing it with him."

lottie gingerly lifts up jackie's dress before ripping the end piece off. a wet patch in her underwear is revealed and lottie almost cackles at the irony of her confusion yet immediate arousal.

"no exaggeration there," lottie says. "you really are just a horny bitch, jackie. and your virginity's all you're worth, isn't it?"

"that's not true," jackie protests. "you know that."

"you think im gonna be generous towards you?" lottie's cock begs to poke out from under her own dress. "do you think sluts like you deserve compassion, jackie?"

"i-i..."

"answer the fucking question. or I'll put my cock in your asshole instead of your warm cunt. would you like that, jackie? you'd still have your virginity if I anally fucked you after all!"

"fuck alright." jackie hesitantly pulls down her underwear, miserably anticipating what comes next. she should've never let that conversation topic leave her mouth. then again, with what she found in shauna's journal, she wouldn't have an ounce of shock if shauna snitched to lottie.

"so now you're finally starting to get it," lottie responds. fantastic. spread your legs a little wider, jax."

jackie doesn't follow her command. lottie crouches down and forcefully spreads jackie's legs open. she snickers at the thought of rutting into jackie dry. there was no pleasure in this encounter. this was merely punishment for jackie's lust. how dare she lust over another, let alone a man at that. the thought of seeing them mate like rabbits made lottie ill.

lottie's dress doesn't come cleanly off. she tears it off so erratically that there's no way it's in shape to be worn after turning jackie's cunt into a sore puddle.

"and this couldn't be done with travis?" jackie groans, lottie's underwear becoming a torn mess that paired beautifully with the tattered dress.

"its the most infuriating thing to watch you lose your virginity to a man because some teen romance movie told you to," lottie growls. "if you wanna get fucked so bad, it mind as well be with me."

lottie forces her tip inside without prior teasing. she's massive, stretching out jackie with her insanely veiny dick to a limit jackie didn't even recognize was possible. she gulps, not adjusting whatsoever despite the wetness. goosebumps form on her skin and her legs tremble.

"I've only got the head in," lottie pants. "fuck, I already wanna cum inside of you. already wanna give you my babies, you useless bimbo."

"fuck," jackie curses, her legs trying to close and force lottie's cock out. every effort from her legs is fruitless and she finds lottie pushing herself deeper. jackie's terrified that her cervix might get smashed throughout this process. but lottie doesn't go any easier on her.

"you're lucky the others aren't around to watch this. you're such an ungrateful bitch. you wanted to get fucked so bad and now you've got the audacity to complain? I don't wanna fucking hear it."

lottie could be going a lot faster, jackie supposes. she's tightening around lottie's cock, but it could be worse right? isn't this what she wanted? didn't she want to give up her virginity tonight?

but this was no sex scene in those movies. there was no passion, a drought of romance. there's not even sprinkles of love. it's just feral mating, animalistic even. and jackie wasn't sure if she would last with only half of lottie in her.

[doonalli]

The Point of Alice's Death in 3-1 (Mini-Analysis)

Gonna start trying a new thing where unlike my other analyses where instead of making a long post about specific characters i make shorter ones about particular scenes in the chapter.

So while it may not be as long I still hope I'm able to make you appreciate the chapter a little more bit by bit regardless With that said I want to talk about a specific (controversial?) moment, being the Yabusames death in 3-1

I'll be focusing particularly on Alice because I'm an Alice router lmao, but I'd love if any Reko'ers were able to add their own input too!! So a common criticism of the Yabusame's death is that it "comes from nowhere". Not in the sense that Ranmaru killing them came from nowhere (I've explain already why that's just not true in my Ranmaru analysis) but in the sense that it makes no sense why they specifically were targeted rather than anyone else.

At first glace it seems like it has nothing to do with their arcs at all and the easiest answer is to just say "they just so happened to be there" but this is a story and Nankidai could have chosen anyone to be there. Yet it was them specifically, so why is that? Disregarding the fact that it couldn't be anyone else REALLY for plot reasons, (Qtaro already being dead, Keiji being trapped, Gin being needed for the Banquet and Sou because it's likely he'll be necessary for 3-2) because that doesn't feel like a real answer to me, and because I feel like there is more to it than just that. One important note to call attention to is that Alice dies exactly in the same spot as Hinako did. Obviously, this already draws a connection as Alice was the one who doomed Hinako in the first place by leaving early and "betraying" her in the First Trial.

But this also leads into what in my eyes is the most important aspect of this death, which is the fact that Alice never found out that he killed Hinako in this route. Now that may seem like a point against this death, as it kills Alice before this moment in his arc, which should be important, but stay with me for a second. One of the major points of Alice's arc is the way his character asks the question of if your even better of knowing in the first place. This is shown in one of the first major changes in his route where he actually ends up using Safalin's machine where Reko didn't

Gin tells him that it doesn't seem right what he did while Safalin affirms that she still believes her machine is one way to achieve happiness.

In particular she says "If all you have is burdens, that isn't life..."

And it's this question that seems to loom over Alice over his arc for the next chapters.

Later Alice is face to face with Midori, someone who is responsible for ruining his life, right after finding out he didn't really kill him at all, and earlier in a similar situation he acted very aggressive towards Gashu

and you'd expect him to be way more mad because he has more reason to fight with Midori. Yet when he fights...

Alice is awfully calm, something he even notices himself, and it just goes to show the change between the before and after of his choice.

Even Reko, when faced with the same choice, was fully ready to fight.

And this leads Sara to question something important

So why am I even bringing this up? Well, it's because Alice's death brings up the most extreme form of this question. When he dies here, he dies not knowing he killed Hinako, but he DOES know he didn't really kill Midori

At this point Alice is in a state where he is fully oblivious to the murder he committed, thinking that he didn't kill anyone. In a way you could call this Alice's happiest state, dying not as a "real murderer", but as an "innocent person".

But is that really a happy ending? He IS dead after all; sure he isn't a murderer anymore but still. And that's what I think his death wants to ask; Is that happiness a good thing?

Maybe once 3-2 drops we'll be able to actually get an answer to the question in Kanna's route but for now it's interesting that the possibility could even happen in the first place, and I think that will make whatever the answer is end up being, hit all the harder knowing that this was a real possibility.

But another part to death in YTTD is the effect it has on the people alive, and Alice's death does this too.

After the death Sara will think about who Alice was and what he meant as a person (and Reko too, maybe even more for her)

And their death is what finally pushes Sara to swear not to be who Midori says she is.

This scene genuinely means something to everyone in the cast, it shows Sou refusing his emotions, Gin and Sara's relationship and calling attention to his sin, showing us that YTTD won't just write him off as a kid and respects his agency in the situation, and a major moment for all the dummies (which I've talked about in each of their respective analyses).

On a more sentimental level the Yabusame's were also the ones who consistently helped Ranmaru with accepting his humanity and self-confidence, so by having him kill them specifically it shows how Ranmaru ignores those words they said representing how he denies his humanity.

And most importantly it leads us to a very important scene from Q-taro where he talks about how we are all carrying sin.

And who better as a backdrop for this moment then Alice Yabusame. Someone who spent so much of his life burdened by his sin and being unable to forgive himself for it. Reko fits in a way too with her past actions and her regretting not forgiving/believing in Alice when she had the chance. Thematically it just makes sense for them to be there, just to really hit home the message Q-taro presents.

So ultimately, I think it just makes sense for the Yabusames to have been the ones who died there and that it isn't indicative of "bad" or "lazy" writing but instead actually really well done and clever in the way it adds to their arcs while also acting as a good full stop to it too.

Through how it brings together many other characters to add a note into quite literally everyone who is present's arc, and through how it completes Alice's arc in a truly poetic way, I think not only is it not a bad choice to kill them there but actually one of the best examples of YTTD using one of its most unique strengths in its split routes for its character writing.

And I hope I was able to express just why I think that is here.

================================================================================================ AFTERWORD: So yeah, I think there is more to Yabusame's death than it can seem at first and maybe I've helped you see that too or maybe you think there is something more to add or you just think I'm insane and there isn't actually anything to it idk lol

I also understand that some people like the Yabusames and are simply mad that the route they chose ended up killing them for something they felt was out of their control, but at the end of the day this is a story and characters dying is a part of it, you can feel saddened by their death, its expected even, a death SHOULD affect you in that way, but I hope you can see how this death is so much more than that and the way its masterfully woven into the themes of their characters.

It's pretty common to see criticism of this death as "pointless" or "just for shock value" and it saddens me because there is far more to it and to Alice and Reko as characters then that and so I wanted to write this in an effort to show off just how much thought is put into them even in CH3 when it's possible they aren't even there. either way I hope you enjoyed reading this mini analysis and that I got you to think about it even a little bit more!!! See you next time for a bigger analysis more akin to what you'd usually see here.

[probably-flowers-and-cats]

"I'm such a failu-u-ure," Nirei whines, looking at his exams papers, red marks scattered all over the sheets, which makes Nirei feel even smaller than he already is.

Sakura turns his head with loud crack and stares at him as if Nirei just said something inherently stupid and blatantly untrue. what a bullshit, hie eyes say. Nirei is, actually, more worried about Sakura's neck — it sounded like his friend just broke his spine and now is refusing to move because of the shock he's fallen into.

they stare at each other for quite some time.

Nirei is sort of curious what will happen next, watching how Sakura's expressions change from furious to calm to embarrassed to confused to lost, eventually freezing in some mixture of all of them. quite a grotesque image, to be honest.

Sakura sharply exhales.

"you," his voice is insanely heavy and firm, and Nirei straightens up in an instant, feeling his shoulders and back protesting against such an abrupt movement. "you are not."

"I am... not?" Nirei echoes. Sakura murmurs something under his breath, which is, well, cute, because he cannot find the right words and tries to juggle his vocabulary and his emotions.

"you're not a failure," Sakura eventually murmurs. "don't call yourself that. it's not true." he doesn't blush nor stutter, but Nirei feels himself melting like a butter under the scorching Sun. yet he chooses to try the fragile patience of his friend and push him further.

"but I barely got D on my papers," he says.

"these damn papers don't describe you!" Sakura claims, raising his voice. it draws Suo's attention to them, and Nirei gestures to stay as he is. "you're more than 'em."

okay, Nirei admits, there's still some space.

"how am I more than them? they will decide my future one day," he says, and it's true. it could decide his future one day, but he doesn't care about it so much, knowing that Makochi will offer them all a place to stay and work.

Sakura struggles to come up with an argument, lips pressed into thin line, and he groans, looking at his own exam papers. Cs mostly, which is an improvement from his first Fs.

"...it only means more time to think what you want to do in the future then," Sakura says. "how to use your great memory for good, what to do with your impressing skills at noticing details, sharp eyes, and caring nature."

Nirei sobs.

Sakura startles and starts talking nonsense just to calm him down, panicking, and Nirei cannot help it but laugh and look at Suo, who has his usual scheming smile. oh, Nirei is about to witness the performance of all times.

"Sakura-kun," Suo comes closer to them and hands Nirei a bottle of cold tea to help him with hiccups, "but what's about me? what's about my future in this case? doesn't it look grim to you?"

Nirei observes exam papers with solid Bs on every sheet. what is he scheming then? it's a good grade.

"what are you yappin' about?" Sakura squints, suspecting Suo as much as Nirei does at the moment, and Suo tilts his head, grinning. "with such grades you're destined to have a decent university ahead of you."

"but decent isn't good enough, don't you think?" oh, Nirei feels shiver down his spine: this conversation isn't just about grades. it's more, and Sakura knows it, too. it's about Suo's inner demons, torturing him at nights.

Nirei cannot even predict the possible answer Sakura should give to satisfy Suo and let him go of his thoughts, focused on flaws. it took a long time for them to help him to appreciate the taste of food, not thinking of his past and guilt, weighing him down.

"Suo," Sakura starts, "you're already more than enough to us. you're charming people with ease, you tease them as much, you can persuade anyone, and you- you—" Sakura murmurs something so precious that Nirei barely able to stop himself from squeaking and kicking. Suo, who didn't hear Sakura's words due to the distance, looks slightly lost.

"I didn't catch what you've said, Sakura-kun. could you, please repeat?" Suo asks, and Nirei is too close to clapping his hands and giggling like crazy.

Because Sakura jumps on his feet, points his finger on Suo, and literally yells loud enough for everyone in the whole class to notice them having The Conversation.

"you're beautiful, and patient, and caring, and you still think ill of yourself for some reason, and I'm so mad because of that, and you still have no idea how much you've impacted me and others in the class, and!.."

Sakura stops, staring at Suo.

"oh."

Suo's face is slightly pink.

Nirei flops on the floor and screams.

----

Later he writes down in his notebook that Sakura cannot stand his friends refusing to recognize and appreciate their worth. the idea to play games till the very night wasn't his best idea, but the outcome he received? better than he could ever expect.

[morganathewitch]

I was tagged by the lovely @orpheus7 to find out what flower from Victorian flower language I am by doing this quiz:

Here's my result:

eglantine - "I wound to heal"

Many people may say you’re pessimistic, but you say you just have an accurate view of the world. Well, alright, that may be true, but the fact that your world has been so hard doesn’t mean it will always be that way. Stop sabotaging your happiness because you feel like you don’t deserve it or because, “oh well, it won’t last, anyway.” The things that you’ve gone through aren’t all you are. Your relationships have been unstable and you want, more than anything, someone who will stay. Honesty is very important to you, and you have no trouble dishing it out. This is helpful in that your friends know they can come to you for your truthful opinions, but not every situation requires you to be blunt. How many ao3 tabs do you have open? Great, and how many of those are hurt/comfort or enemies to lovers? It’s likely that you have religious trauma, and even more likely that you’re queer. It’s almost a certainty that you have mommy and/or daddy issues.

I'm tagging @maggiefaye, @roseofbattles, @drekisdottir, @hiljaisuudesta, @queer-cosette, @enekorre, @ironmist, @thedruidsforest, @the-raven-that-refused-to-sing, @auf-den-wellen-wird-gefochten, @niiv, @georgiatnsv, @natural-magics, @forestfae and @snekdood :3

[necromancer-at-abattoir]

I absolutely love this post and every PJO fan needs to see it.

I want to add my two cents to it and say that Rick Riordan was born in 1964, Texas, America. He's a straight white Christian man and his writing is full of sexism and racism which he has ignored and dismissed. I won't say that he's homophobic, but his queer rep, while being revolutionary when it was written (though not now) isn't the best either.

OP has said that male SA victims struggle to be taken seriously, and I think that Rick Riordan's environment during his upbringing heavily contributed to his writing of Calypso and Odysseus.

I've said this before, but Calypso in the Odyssey is a grown woman who raped Odysseus for years on the end. In Percy Jackson, she is turned into a young girl who had a consensual romance with him (and before you ask me how this was possible, I've barely seen anyone talking about it and the author himself never explains it.)

This feeds into the harmful stereotype of male SA victims not being taken seriously.

Now before you come at me with 'IT'S A CHILDREN SERIES!' I am well aware of this fact.

This fact does not matter because this still feeds into the blatant erasure of the suffering of raped males.

Rick Riordan did NOT need to turn Calypso into a young girl. He could have let her be an adult and left the romance with Percy out. But he did, and he turned Odysseus' assault into a consensual romance.

Turning a rape into a consensual romance is not ok, not even in a children's book series when you could have just left it out.

He did not leave it out. In Trials of Apollo says that Calypso is very enchanting and that Odysseus stays with her for seven years before leaving, which directly says that he consensually stayed with her, which is not the case.

And it's harmful, because many people read it and see it and think that it's true. It's harmful because it ignores the sexual assault of males and turns the female rapist into an innocent young girl, thus absolving her of accountability.

Rick Riordan didn't need to write this, but he did, which says a lot about him. I don't hate him, but I do somewhat dislike him and his works because of writing and misinformation like this.

Did you know that Calypso is reduced to a 15-16 year old teenager in Percy Jackson but she fought in a war and also somehow romanced TWO GROWN MEN while still being mentally and physically a teenager?

Rage on this please

I think that for starters this obsession with everyone trying to baby Calypso it is not only missing the point of Homer by hundreds of miles but is also hushing an important matter up which is the matter of sexual abuse against men in general and by women in particular. Even with the famous "me too" movement we haven't addressed this issue. In fact men are still not believed that they are sexually abused even if the perpetrator is a man (unless we talk about children. In that case we THANKFULLY properly address this disgusting matter!)

However when men are declaring they were sexually abused at best they are not believed ("how is it possible a woman take a man down?" Or "how then did you perform if you didn't enjoy it?") Or at worst they even get mocked or talked down for it ("oh yeah you had it soooo badly that the gorgeous woman had her way with you" or "lucky you! I wish I were in your shoes!" Or "man every man's fantasy!") And other disgusting comments like that when the raped victim is afraid even to talk about it and are confused and traumatized by the act.

The way that Odysseus was treated mind you not only by modern media but also by antiquity shows that this mentality hasn't changed. In ancient sources oftentimes ancient writers depict their "relationship" as willing through and through. However what modern media does is that they place Odysseus even as the one who initiates or the one to "blame" when the female characters are once more pictured as victims (see what Miller did with her Circe for example). So they "babying" of Calypso seems to me like an attempt to serve yet another purpose like this; to somehow create the image in our head that Odysseus is the big evil man that has his way with women and these two women were those who either had no choice or they were choosing to do this because of "evil patriarchy". Best case scenario they are pictured as a mutual relationship with the character.

And Calypso (or even Circe) matter is always hushed up by most media that at best they try to dodge the subject (see for example what the musical did recently) or at worst case scenario they twist it (Riordan or Miller)

Now for Calypso being 16 I think Riordan was trying to show us that "he knows how antiquity works" by showing us "see? I am touching taboo subjects! Because I know history!" (And interestingly the age of consent in many places in the world is swinging in between 15 and 18 years of age anyways) and in Homer there IS one example that points to the direction of a large age gap (I am of course talking about Nausicaa falling for Odysseus. Nausicaa was undoubtedly unmarried therefore young, probably younger than 20 most likely between 14 to 16 years of age, while Odysseus was arguably in his 50s by the time he met her) but what I find so interesting (and NOT in a good way) is that instead of touching the subject properly Riordan chose to make Calypso look and potentially act young as well

That is to be used as a tool of sympathy towards her (because even if his only purpose was to make her unaging the choice of character to be 15 seems way more than that) and a way to swift the blame from her to Odysseus or someone else by making the audience see her as a child rather than as a deity born out of a powerful titan most likely hundreds if not thousands of years before Odysseus. By making her both act and look like a teenager he singlehandedly seems to be telling us that she is not experienced of the world, that either she genuinely falls for Odysseus or she was experimenting and Odysseus the old and mature man who could show her better chose not to.

At least that seems to be the message he passes here which ironically was the opposite of what Homer wanted to pass! Odysseus could one say he did have a crush on Nausicaa (since he avoids her subject when he tells his story in Ithaca) but he never acted to it because he loves his wife and his home and because Homer wanted to pass the message that the marriage between an older man and a young girl would appear unnatural (same way Penelope denying marriage from the suitors who could easily be almost the same age as her son or they have the right age to be her son taking under consideration her age and the way that women often got married at around 16 years of age on a rough estimation). Odysseus denies a young wife that could have the same age as his son if not younger and then Riordan tells us that nope that is no issue

Now Riordan might as well call upon other sources that have Odysseus accquire young brides (see for example Telegony or other stories by other writers) but still it so misses the subject of Homer's Odyssey and like I said before it is yet another example in my mind of erasure of this very serious issue which is men being coersed into sexual activities or straight out raped and still are not heard or they are afraid to talk about it

[studentbyday]

2025.

Please be good.

[technically-human]

Ooh, now that we’ve seen N!Edwin and DP!Edwin talk about Feelings could we see the same with N!Charles and DP!Charles?

As simple as that.

Edwins version

ko-fi