#(for given values of science)

[roachliquid]

I've been fascinated by the idea of sapient zombies since my child-to-teenage years, when Xanth books were purchased and devoured with full enthusiasm from my understimulated brain. Funny enough, Piers Anthony's weird sex ideas didn't leave that strong of an impression, but the choice that he made time and time again - to humanize monsters, showing them not just as creatures of destruction but thinking people with their own cultures and customs - that one stuck with me. And I loved the arc when people realized that zombies - formerly believed to be mindless due to their sluggishness and low reactivity - were revealed to, in fact, be people who were simply impaired by the nature of their bodies.

Every time I see another zombie movie, I find myself thinking "what if we didn't default to seeing them as mindless killing hordes?" There have certainly been movies that don't default to this - Night of the Living Dead used the concept very effectively to create genuine horror - but it feels like about 90% of the genre just thinks "mindless masses that it's acceptable to shoot". And I hate that.

It's why I really enjoyed Warm Bodies, a story that uses the concept to talk about depression and the harms of social isolation. Return of the Living Dead is another great entry, that plays the concept for both comedy and horror while acknowledging the humanity and suffering of those afflicted with the zombie disease. I love stories that explore and humanize these concepts, and I'm always looking for more of them.

Naturally, I've come up with a few different concepts of my own, starting with a Resident Evil RP character who was virtually unkillable but otherwise just having the weirdest day of their life. One of my recent takes involves a disease that overheats the brain, causing severe and permanent damage unless the patient can be refrigerated while the initial stage of undeath runs its course. The fact that this requires people to exercise compassion, and not just lock you in a room as soon as they see a bite, is of course the point. After a certain period of figuring things out, allowing victims to turn violent requires malice.

The trouble came when I tried working out how to adapt this concept to a setting without freezers. I've been batting around the idea of a post-apocalypse isekai for a while, largely as an excuse to write SHODAN-inspired cyber femdom, but then - as inspiration took hold, and I remembered one of the silliest post-apocalyptic settings of all time - as a broader parody of the cultural climate that gave us the Fallout games. But also just, in general, because "out-of-context environment where you have to survive" is a deeply compelling concept.

It's worth noting, I love silly worldbuilding. I love when things simply don't make any plausible sense and you can tell it was done that way because the writer(s) just wanted it to happen. Xanth is similar; the worldbuilding is an absolute mess because it's constantly focused on delivering More, Sillier Ideas. I eat that stuff up like I used to eat marshmallow cereal.

So when I set out to create this New Kind of Undead, I naturally got silly with it at once. My first idea was that you catch the disease when you're bitten by a weird beetle, because... shit, IDK, I just like beetles. Refrigeration isn't an option to protect the brain, so fuckit, we're doing live embalming - lifesaving measures for the freshly undead involve replacing most bodily fluids with alcohol. This is of course objectively ridiculous, because zombie virus or not, being embalmed should just kill you - but fuckit, it's for the bit.

Then I remembered the idea I had to parody Fallout's ghouls with people who were typically called mummies. And I went "hmm" and thought, you know what, covering an undead person in bandages makes a lot of sense, actually. Especially if they're still fresh and decaying, but even afterwards, that skin's not gonna grow back, you know? Protective coverings are in. Living mummies are in. And-

hey, wait a minute, I need to rethink that beetle bit.

[libraford]

The thing about JD Vances 'cat lady comment' that gets a little obscured by 'you have angered the cat ladies' is that when asked about it he clarified.

And doubled down.

That it wasn't about cat ladies, but the fact that that they are childless, and the sense that someone who has no children cannot possibly have a stake in the future of this country.

I found out this year that I cannot have children. Not on purpose, not by accident, not by science and not by miracle. There is a fibroid the size of a grapefruit in my uterus that has given my reproductive organs so much trauma that there's no possibility of carrying a child to term. The only way to remove it is with a hysterectomy.

For me, this decision was easy. But when my gynecologist spoke to me about it, they gave me a box of tissues, expecting it to take a lot more emotional bargaining. They were surprised that the decision was so easy for me.

I don't want children. I never have. I never 'wanted them someday.' I will probably not adopt.

But I understand how many people do- and why the news of infertility would make someone upset.

When assigning a value to someone based on their status of parenthood, you are including people who want, desperately, to have children but for whatever reason cannot.

To say that I, or anyone without children, could be apathetic about the future of the country is saying the quiet part out loud. Perhaps he was unconcerned until he had children of his own. But the thing is, you don't have to have a family legacy in order to want good things for the future.

You just have to have a heart.

Which I've got.

[verekatt]

Danny Al Ghul... but differently

Instead of the classic Demon Twins, what if Maddie Fenton was an Al Ghul? Talia's older sister, maybe.

She's trained in martial arts, which could come from the League. She has pretty loose morals, dedicating her cause (science) above anything else. And her work is focused around the scientific study of ectoplasm (or Lazarus Water).

In this AU, I imagine Maddie was exiled from the League for trying to study Lazarus Water. Ra's views the water as holy (I love the idea he made a magical deal to get it), and so the idea of using it for anything but its intended purpose is sacrilegious. She's cast out, but on her way she steals some samples, which is the basis for the Fenton's research before the portal is opened.

She used the word ectoplasm to disguise what she's really researching to hide from Ra's, because he would definitely kill her if he realised she continued her research after leaving. She connects ghosts to ectoplasm because she's heard stories about Pit Demons. This is also where the assumption that ghosts are non-sentient and harmful comes from; Pit Demons are fueled only by Pit Rage. (In reality, Lazarus Pits are just corrupted and diseased, and the ghosts coming through are only mindless for as long as it takes them to overcome the illness.)

She never dates Vlad because he's too much like Ra's, with his pride and wealth and schemes. Instead, she marries Jack, a man smart enough to be useful and devoted enough to follow her lead unquestioningly. She mimics Jack's mannerisms, mirrors his own affection back to him, and learns to fit in by attaching herself to him. She learns the value of being underestimated, of being dismissed as the town kooks.

When Danny is revealed as a halfa, she uses these assumptions. She tells him she needs time to think and adjust, and she gears up to catch him. She loves him, sure, but the scientific opportunity she's been given is too valuable to give up for sentiment's sake. Jack's more apprehensive, but she's been manipulating him for decades, and she tells him Phantom killed their son. Jack is enraged, and now on board to catch Danny. They succeed, and every time Danny screams and begs and Jack wavers, Maddie talks him back into it.

Eventually though, Danny gets through to Jack. The Fentons heard about a ghost attack in town, and Maddie left to hunt, leaving Jack alone with Danny. They talk, and Jack finally realises he's in the wrong. He releases Danny and tells him to run, knowing he can't, physically or emotionally, stop Maddie. Danny runs, and ends up homeless and injured in Gotham.

Jack, meanwhile, goes to Sam, Tucker and Jazz, to explain, apologise, and figure out how to help Danny and make amends. They're angry and suspicious at first, but eventually agree to work together, for Danny's sake. Jack is learning a lot about what ghosts are really like, and it's blowing his mind how wrong he was about them.

Danny, meanwhile, gets noticed by the Bats, and they see his Al Ghul resemblance. With his black hair and blue eyes, they assume he's another blood son of Bruce's, and scramble to catch/adopt him. This is largely unsuccessful, because the Bats are government affiliated, the Waynes are rich fruitloops, and Danny is very good at not getting caught. They're also busy trying to figure out if he's a threat, and trying to get a DNA sample to prove their assumptions. They track down his hideout just in time to see Maddie recapture him, and they realise Danny was never the LoA assassin threat they were worried about, Maddie is.

Before they get enough information to launch a rescue mission, they get flagged down by Jack, Jazz, Sam and Tucker. The Amity Parker's information on ghosts and ghost tech is invaluable, and when they point out the Anti-Ecto Acts, the Bats riot (internally). The rescue goes ahead flawlessly thanks to their combined knowledge.

Now, however, there's the issue of Danny's custody. Regardless of guilt, Jack had a hand in his torture, and might face jail time for it. Danny might like the Bats a bit more now, but his trust issues won't let him move in with strangers. The Waynes are even worse, his billionaire trauma removes them as an option, especially with how they were stalking him before. Maybe he gets an apartment with Jazz? But I can't imagine the Bats being ok with leaving two traumatised teenagers alone after all that, especially while they're still working on getting the Anti-Ecto Acts removed.

Regardless of where Danny ends up, he's going to get stalked by the Bats. It's their love language. Regardless of good intentions, Danny is not feeling the love. He's feeling very cornered and threatened. He knows they've seen he's not human, and now they're intruding on his half-life, waiting for him to become a threat so they can take him down. Danny tells his friends and family, and together, they run.

This could go a few ways from here. Maybe they bounce from city to city, dodging heroes who heard about the family from the Bats and are just trying to help. Maybe they get caught by the GIW in a final push as the laws are being overturned. Maybe they run to the Infinite Realms, and are only found again years later when Danny summoned as the High King of the Dead. Or all of these could happen.

[theabigailthorn]

Hi Miss Thorn.

I was recently reading through your trans writes article about you choosing not to do PR for the NHS. In one line you mention that the medical system "exaggerates or wholly confabulates" certain medical risks, and I was wondering if you could give more of an explanation or some examples about that stuff. I tried looking it up on my own but I didn't really know what keywords to search for, and I don't want to fall into some weird anti-science conspiracy theory rabbithole (especially at a kind of vulnerable part of my transition where I'm finally giving "doing hormones" more serious thought as a Thing I Would Actually Do rather than an idle fantasy where the results magically "fix" me (or a kind of anxiety where it doesn't do anything of value at all :< )

Thank you regardless for your great videos over the years,

A Very Nervous Enby

Sure! So, I would argue that the Cass Review is a prime example of this phenomenon. It concluded that puberty blockers have caused zero documented cases of harm as long as they've been used in Britain, but they might cause some unknown kind of harm in the future, somehow; a harm that hasn't been detected in any of the other countries who have used them, whose evidence - by the way - was discarded.

So we have no evidence of past harm, no idea what a future mystery harm might be, when it might happen, the mechanism for it, or why it would only show up here, now, and not in any of the other countries who have given trans kids blockers previously...

This is clearly making shit up!

And yet the Cass Review was used to justify a ban on blockers.

The only way this makes sense is if by "harm" they mean "being trans." Cass expressed particular concern that most kids who start on blockers go on to medically transition, which - yeah duh? But whereas a normal person views this as a neutral fact about the world, transphobes see it as bad - they see being trans as a bad or dangerous thing to be - and so they want to make people "avoid it" as much as possible.

This is what I mean when I say pathologization exaggerates or in some cases outright fabricates risks of medical transition to justify restricting our bodily autonomy under the guise of "care."

[ahundredtimesover]

Something About You (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: friends au, vacation au, slow burn, romcom-ish vibe; adulting; inspired by AYS; PE teacher!JK and researcher!OC; fluff, comfort, smut (?)

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption, talks of cheating (JK’s ex), minor injury (18+)

Word count: 9k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends for a decade. And while he’s the charming and dependable, often reserved boy-next-door, he’s also just been a friend - a constant in your life, a part of a whole, and someone who’s seen all the flawed and probably unattractive sides of you.

A resumption of your friend group’s out-of-town trips has caused you to spend more time with him. And somewhere in between the morning coffee in the forest, running around in the snow, and watching the sunset on a boat, he’s become something more. And you’re not quite sure how to deal with it.

🎶: Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney || Yes or No by Jungkook

Despite your busy schedule, the week flies by painfully slow. You’re thankful to Mo-eum for checking on you and accompanying you to dinner on some days. Otherwise, you wouldn’t get off your laptop screen and actually eat. With the questions given to you in advance, you’ve also been practicing your answers for the panel discussion.

To be able to share your research to a group of people who’ll find the value in it and understand what you and your team went through to get it done is a big deal to you. More than anything, you just want to be able to give justice to the stories of the community you worked with; you want to shed light on who they are and what they’re experiencing.

Saturday finally comes, and after you grab a quick lunch after a field visit, you head home and get your power suit on then wait for Jungkook to arrive.

He’s in high spirits when you enter the car. His students won yesterday’s round of the swim meet again and they’ll be going into regionals next Friday. You’re elated for him, as he gets to share something he loves for the young people he truly feels passionate about.

You know about Jungkook's youth being all about sports. He wanted to become a professional athlete and growing up, he played everything he could. He was a taekwondo black belter and he excelled in swimming and track and field. He thought he’d go to the National Sports University to become an Olympian, but something changed in his senior year of high school. 

One day he just decided he wanted to be a spectator of the sports he loves instead of being in the midst of it. The passion dwindled, he’d said. He was a late applicant to your university and took up Sports Science. He still enjoyed swimming so he joined the varsity team and won local competitions, but that was as far as he wanted to go. He eventually chose a teaching path over being a therapist in honor of his mother who’s also a teacher, and suddenly his desire to share his love for sports with kids like him just grew.

He talks about his students with such joy. It’s definitely different from the way you talk about your passion with such anger and intensity but like he’d said not long ago, you’re both changing lives anyway. Anger can do that. So can patience and commitment. 

You let him talk about his classes to calm yourself down, and you learn that it’s easy with him. You don’t spend time alone with Jungkook as much as you do with Jimin or Taehyung, and you’re finding his presence to be comforting. 

It’s mixed with teasing and nonsense talk and encouraging words. He makes fun of you one minute then tells you to stop biting your lips the next. He makes you play rock-paper-scissors and pinches your cheek when you lose, then goes to a drive-thru to get you a drink and a pastry, even if you insist there’ll be lots of food at the event. 

“I bet you’ll be too anxious to eat before you go on,” he shrugs. “Just get something in your stomach.”

So you agree and nibble on the tarts he buys. The 75-minute drive ends and he drops you off at the conference center. He says he’ll find a cafe or a park to hang out in and that he’ll just wait until you finish. 

You go through your panel discussion and engage in really good discourse with your peers. You feel that flutter in your chest the more you talk about your work and its importance in today’s social and political landscape. 

You stay there for four hours. It’s enough time to entertain other attendees who ask more about your research and to make new networks that’ll be beneficial to your research teams moving forward. You only intended to stay a while so you message Jungkook and let him know you’re ready to go. 

It’s 6:30 PM when he picks you up, and you breathe out a long exhale both in relief and in exhaustion.

“I’m sure you did well. You can take a nap if you want. All the talking and worrying must’ve drained you,” he says.

“It did,” you yawn. “Choose whatever restaurant you want. Just wake me up when we get there.”

Jungkook nods and watches you immediately fall asleep, with your arms reflexively crossing against your chest, as if you’re hugging yourself. You rarely snore loudly but you do this time; it tells him just how tired you really are. He records it for future use, but he can’t help but look at you fondly at how much you give yourself to the things you do.

You’re deep in dreamland when you suddenly feel tapping on your head, then your nose, then a pinch on your cheek. An annoying sing-song voice urges you to wake up. 

You curse under your breath. 

“Is that how you thank your chauffeur?” Jungkook laughs. “Wipe your crusty eyes. We’re here.”

You wake up to find yourself outside a Japanese hotpot place that you remember him talking about last week. You’re surprised he didn’t choose something more expensive, as Jimin and Taehyung tend to take advantage of you paying when you treat them out, but you suppose Jungkook is different in that sense.

“This is dinner,” he says. “There’s a dessert place not far from here.”

“Do I treat you there, too?” You cock an eyebrow.

“Yup. A meal isn’t complete without dessert.”

He flashes you his cheeky, bunny smile.

Never mind. They’re all the same, you think to yourself.

“Fine. That place better be good.”

As you expected, both are insanely delicious. Jungkook’s a foodie and you knew that he wouldn’t waste this free meal for something he’s not sure he’d like. 

He took charge of the hotpot earlier. You don’t recall your bowl being empty and that’s another thing you’re not surprised about him. He likes making sure other people enjoy their food just as much as he enjoys eating.

Your conversations during dinner about your respective weeks continue over dessert. 

His mornings are packed with PE classes for middle and high school kids. In the afternoons, he coaches the swim and track teams on alternate days. In between all of that, he organizes sporting events, facilitates intra-school competitions, makes sure the gyms are well-maintained, and occasionally deals with students with behavioral issues because he’s apparently good at managing them, and they seem to trust him, too. 

He crashes when he gets home, wakes up in time to prepare his dinner, goes back to sleep, then does it all over again the next day. Weekends are really his only time to do things for himself - swim in the community pool, play his video games, or go to the gym. 

“Sorry I hijacked your one other day of leisure and rest,” you sigh, as you finish the last of the black sesame cheesecake. 

“Nah, all good. It was nice to go out for a drive. It’s relaxing for me,” he explains. “Except for when my passenger spends the entirety of it snoring but that’s fine, too.”

You kick his shin in response and he’s used to your violence by now. He barely feels anything anyway. 

“But really, thank you, Kook.”

“Friends do nice things for each other,” he smiles. “Plus, I’m sure there have been times over the years when I wasn’t there for you when I should have been.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know, maybe after your breakups or when you were getting burnout from your other job,” he shrugs. “Maybe even recently when you were so stressed with work.”

It’s a thought he had this past week, as your conversations last weekend triggered memories of your friendship. You’re a constant, as all his other friends are, but you always existed as part of the whole. 

Within your smaller group, you’re the one he’s spent the least time with the most. He and Jimin have been friends since middle school and shared an apartment during university, which Taehyung crashed everyday. He and Mo-eum had a few classes together and he often asked her to teach him First Aid and other things to do during an emergency.    

You were always busy and when you weren’t, he was. He knows the struggles you went through personally and professionally, but somehow hearing you talk about them at this point in your lives made you seem a little unfamiliar to him even if he was already used to you. It’s as if he’s experiencing you and your friendship on its own for the first time, and that’s made him think that perhaps he should’ve been a better friend to you.

“Kook, we were both going through breakups at the same time,” you remind him. “I never expected you to deal with my shit when you were dealing with your own. Plus, you’re literally the one with the stressful job. You deal with kids, parents, other teachers… that’s a lot to handle. We’ve been there for each other every time we could.”

“I guess,” he smiles, appreciative of the assurance.

“For all I know, there have been times when I also haven’t been there for you when I should’ve been,” you point out. 

Come to think of it, there may have been instances when you were too caught up in your own issues to even ask him if he was doing okay.

“Remember the party the night after our graduation?” He asks, softening at the memory. “You kept dancing around me and I remember thinking you were just drunk and being a weirdo but I found out later on that Joo-yun was there and you were trying to make sure that she didn’t see me.”

“Yeah because if she did, she would’ve tried to talk to you and you said you were done with her shit. Keeping her away from all of us was the sane thing to do. I was scared they’d take back my diploma if I pulled her hair because I really wanted to do that,” you frown, remembering how that bitter woman was trying to look for him and you wanted to make sure that Jungkook didn’t have to deal with her again.

“And that last night at your apartment when I told everyone about Si-an…” He continues. “I was drunk but I clearly remember hearing you hatch a plan to go to her apartment and egg her car.”

You both burst into laughter. Twenty-five year old you was  kind of a bitch.

“It was supposed to be her face but I didn’t want to get sued. That’s her money-maker after all,” you explain. “But you know me, Kook. I get angry a lot.”

“I know. And it’s not always a bad thing,” he says. 

“Well, whatever happened or didn’t happen during those times, what matters is that we get to do good friend things for each other this time, right?” You smile. “Although you’ve been doing more of that recently with the driving and all.”

“Hey, you helped me with the research I needed for the youth wellbeing plan that the school asked me to do not long ago.”

“That just took me like, an hour,” you shrug.

He playfull rolls his eyes. He knows you put effort on that regardless. 

But you accept his thanks and assure him that he can always go to you for help in that area.

You finish the last of your drinks and dessert and Jungkook drives you home. 

Your night ends with the relief of the hot shower and your cozy bed.

His night ends with the warmth of the rare hug you give him and the sting of your pinch of his cheek.

It's next Friday when you find a chance to be there for Jungkook this time. Although you doubt he needs you, you think that showing your support would do good for team morale.

You’d just finished an offsite meeting and rushed to the school that you heard the swimming competition will take place. Jungkook’s students made it to the next round after last week’s win, and placing today would mean they’ll have a chance to compete in the nationals. 

You make your way to the bleachers and spot him huddling the kids and giving an impassioned pep talk. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this side of him and it’s nice to witness the often quiet, sometimes cheeky boy you know show this much emotion and intensity.

He finally looks up and spots you, waving eagerly at him in your corporate attire and looking a bit out of place, but somehow you fit right in. He smiles as he waves back and points to one of his kids taking position. 

You cheer for each one and even get the crowd to yell louder when Jungkook’s team places in a race. You’re not really sure how this goes but his students have been performing well and you just keep hollering to encourage them.

Jungkook laughs from where he stands on the bench, even more so when he overhears one of his students remark that he didn’t know they had fans.

“Do we know her?” Another one asks as he gestures towards you.

“I do,” Jungkook hums. “She’s a friend.”

“You’re not even competing,” another one comments.

“Well, she’s cheering for me. And I’m part of your team so that means she’s cheering for you, too,” Jungkook smiles now. 

His students look at you and wave, and you excitedly wave back. Your cheers seem to pump them up, as they all place, earning the team enough points to advance to the next round. 

You meet them after awarding and introduce yourself as the loud auntie. 

“We were surprised because no one ever cheers that loud for us,” one of the kids says. “But Coach said you’re his friend and you’re cheering for him which means you’re cheering for us, too.”

“Well, Coach Jeon cares about all of you and he’s my friend which means I care about you guys as well,” you smile. “But you all did really great out there. I’m sure you’ll do amazing next week.”

“Will you be there again?” One of them asks.

“I will,” you say. “Maybe a few of our other friends, too.”

They look excited and promise that they’ll train even harder. You bid them goodbye and walk with Jungkook to his car, reminding him that you still don’t have yours. It prompts him to tease that you probably only came today so he could drive you home.

“I can find my way, excuse you,” you stick out your tongue. “But a ride wouldn’t be bad.”

“Why did you come, anyway?”

“My meeting ended early. Plus, you were talking about how excited your students were,” you respond. “You did a lot to improve the school’s swimming program and you’re literally their coach, their biggest cheerleader. You need one, too. And that’s me.”

“Thanks,” he hums, flashing you his dimpled smile this time. “That’s actually pretty sweet.”

“Good friend things,” you remind him. 

“So you’re really watching again next week?”

“Yeah! My schedule seems fine. Plus, the crowd’s really interesting,” you say. “I was talking to the women who were there for their sons and brothers from the other teams and they were gushing about the young Coach of the other school who was really handsome.”

“Oh, really? And did you agree?”

“Hmm, I said he was alright,” you shrug.

Jungkook laughs and accepts the honesty. He turns on the engine and turns to you.

“So, where to?”

“This barbecue place,” you say. “Jimin and Tae are meeting us there and Mo-eum will follow after her shift. So let’s go. We’re celebrating you tonight.”

Jungkook’s team was a few points away from placing in the nationals but none of the students, as well as him, was any bit disappointed. They worked hard and went as far as they could; even they didn’t expect to make it all the way here. 

But Jungkook did. Despite his own concerns about stepping up at the start of the year after the head coach took an emergency leave, he knew the potential of his students. They did the sport for fun, but he saw how they committed themselves to it, how they disciplined themselves, and how they trusted and encouraged each other. 

That final competition was a memorable one, especially as he had all of his friends supporting his students who received the loudest cheers from the audience. You managed to get everyone to attend on a Friday afternoon, and when Jungkook thanked you for showing up when you didn’t have to, you teased him by saying that you “did it for the kids.”

The soft smile you gave told him that was only partly true.

That night ended with dinner and drinks with everyone and an unspoken promise between the two of you that you’ll try to be there for each other more this time around. 

That was two weeks ago and he’s hung out with you three times since then. He clocked out later than usual one Wednesday and randomly texted you, and you both ended up having dinner at a noodle house. 

The Saturday after that, you all went to Taehyung’s apartment. You fell asleep, woke up at 2AM, and found Jungkook was still there because your friend insisted that he take you home. 

A few days later, you were craving kebabs and messaged Jungkook, who was always good at finding the best restaurants and food stalls. So you went to one in another neighborhood and stayed until closing.

It’s another Friday night and you, Jungkook, Jimin, and Mo-eum decided to indulge Taehyung and go to this Club to relive your early twenties when you all used to do this almost every week. 

Once you enter, you’re hit with the reality that you are definitely no longer built the same way, as the dress with the heels ensemble doesn't feel that bearable anymore. The crowd is at least around your age, and the place is a lot more sophisticated than you’re used to. The music has more of a chill vibe, and not the EDM sound that nowadays gives you headaches. 

You’d much rather be elsewhere but you spend some of your nights like this because you want to be with your friends and tonight, at least three of them want to let loose and have fun. 

Taehyung is socializing like always while Jimin and Mo-eum are dancing and taking shots on the dance floor. You were doing that earlier, too, but your legs started giving in and you asked Jungkook to not leave you at the cocktail table so you don’t look like a complete loser, hanging out by yourself. 

“Not your ideal Friday night anymore, huh?” Jungkook whispers in your ear over the music. “You look so done with everything.”

“My feet hurt,” you pout. “I wanna drink some more but it’s so loud and so… busy. So many things are happening.”

“We can always–”

“Jungkook?”

It takes a while for the voice to register. It’s been years and it’s something he’s tried hard to forget but once he places it, the mixed feeling of anger and sadness comes rushing in. There are many things he never got to tell her, mostly because everything was so sudden and he just tried to bury it all in hopes of never having to deal with them again. 

But the universe fucks with him sometimes and tonight just happens to be the night when it does.

“Uh, Si-an…” he finally says, the sound of her name tasting bitter off his lips. “Hey.”

“It’s so good to see you,” she says, eyeing him up and down. “It’s been so long! I saw you from the bar and thought you looked familiar and wow, you’ve… you’ve changed a lot. In a good way, of course. It’s so weird because I was thinking about you the other day and I was wondering how you were doing. I wanted to message you and ask—”

“Seriously?”

You wish your tone expressed how pathetic you think she sounds right now and her incredulous face tells you it probably did.

“Oh, you’re here,” she glares at you, her eyes looking offended at your mere presence. “And so are your friends,” she grudgingly says after looking around the Club.

“Is that a problem?” You ask, crossing your arms and moving closer to eye her up and down.

“Let’s just say… you’re not exactly the most pleasant people out there,” she replies.

“Aww, well. We tend to be like that to snakes and shitty people,” you sneer. “And don’t worry, we think the same way about you. Kinda surprised you even have the nerve to walk up here and talk to him after everything you did but then again, I guess being pathetic knows no limits.”

You can tell this provoked her, as her already irritated face distorts into anger but you’re unsure what else she has to say. She’s the one who messed up in the first place.

“Look, you may be friends with Jungkook but you don’t know me to be making claims like that. Whatever—”

“I know you enough. That shit you did says everything about you,” you interject, feeling your blood boiling to a high degree by now with how she thinks she even has a defense. Like she even has the right.

You feel like you’ve really pushed her buttons, as she rolls her eyes and flips her hair as if she’s someone important and you’re not even worth her time. You know she’s about to say something completely stupid and you telepathically apologize to Jungkook for the person you’ll become once that happens.

“You have no right to talk about my relationship with Jungkook,” she bites back. “We had our issues but we loved each other. Things happen and people make mistakes. He was busy and I needed—”

“Oh. Don’t even go there. You know what you did, Si-an,” you warn, your voice getting louder and more pointed now. “Don’t you dare trivialize or justify it. That was all on you so don’t come around here and act like you actually care.”

“You’re the one who seems to be caring too much!” She chides. “Why? You want to impress him by humiliating me? By showing him you can do better? Is that what you’re trying to prove?”

You shake your head in disbelief. You’ve dealt with people like this - the ones who deflect, the ones who can’t deal with the consequences of their actions, and those who think they can just get away with shitty behavior because of who they are. And well, you’ve got to admit she’s still as pretty as she was and she knows it; she’s not a model for no reason.

But still, you can’t stand her accusing you of stupid shit and taking everything she did to your friend this lightly.

“You know what? I actually feel sorry for you,” you sigh. “You finally get to date a good guy for once and then you mess it all up. Jungkook’s one of the nicest people in this messed up world and you know this, but you treated him like crap because you think you could and then get away with it. And now what, a couple of douchebags later you realize what you let go of and you regret it all? You get what you deserve. And you stopped deserving him the moment you betrayed him so cut the crap. No one’s falling for your shit this time.”

You’re panting by the time you finish, as the pent up anger from all these years reaches its boiling point. They may have dated for only a year but you knew Jungkook cared a lot about her. Even if she clung to him like glue whenever he brought her along, you respected their relationship enough to not meddle, although you knew that Jimin and Taehyung had hinted how uncomfortably clingy she was. 

He seemed content. And then she cheated, and that was just inexcusable. 

You remember how sullen Jungkook looked when he announced the breakup, and how he couldn’t properly narrate how he found out. You always thought it affected him so much that he never really talked about her in the three years since then, except when you were at the cabin not long ago. And even then, it wasn’t really much. You can’t imagine what it’s like to be betrayed like that, and for a tender-hearted man like him, you suppose it hits that much harder. 

And so knowing how he’s kept it all in and then seeing her act like what she did was worthy of forgiveness or even another chance, it makes you sick. You’re not about to just stand around and watch her trivialize what she did, so you gave her a piece of your mind, which you think is quite overdue. 

Si-an looks truly offended; she can’t even look in your direction.

“I don’t have to deal with you,” she manages to say, annoyance laced in her voice. 

“Good, because we’re just about to leave,” you say. 

You turn towards the left where the exit door is, not wanting to be anywhere near her, either. But then she speaks again.

“Jungkook, I meant what I said that I’ve been wondering how you are. There’s so much I want to say and I was hoping we could talk.”

Your gaze stays on him, wondering what he’ll do this time. You know he has self-respect that he won’t bend to her will and give her a chance to say whatever she thinks still needs to be said, but your heart still stops at the possibility of him still doing that.

“It’s too late for that, Si-an,” he utters. “I don’t really have anything to say to you. Have a good life.”

Then he grabs his coat hanging over the chair and walks towards you.

“Let’s go,” he gestures towards the door. “Kinda don’t wanna be here anymore.”

You grab onto his wrist to not lose him in the crowd and manage to get down to the lobby of the building unscathed. It’s nearing 12 AM and the Club is just about to get more full, and you know Jungkook enough that he won’t want to be around people after what happened. 

Getting out on the street, you spot a convenience store. He looks a little dazed and you think a different environment is good for both of you at this moment.

“I’ll just buy a bottle of water over there. Is it okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, sure,” he responds, walking to the dangerous side of the sidewalk next to you.

It’s just a block away but you’re reminded of how painful your feet are, now that the adrenaline has waned a bit. He notices and holds your arm for support. You mumble your thanks and sit on the first stool you see and sigh in relief.

He chuckles as he looks at you.

“I’ll get the water,” he says before heading inside.

He returns with two bottles of them, ice cold, and sits across from you. You watch as his eyes flick from one side of the street to another and sip his drink. You’re unsure what’s going on in his mind but yours are flashbacks of what happened just minutes ago and how you lost your cool and called out his ex-girlfriend. Which you now realize you maybe shouldn’t have done.

“I’m so sorry,  Kook,” you finally say, covering your face and bowing your head. 

“For what?” He asks.

“For crossing a line and saying all those things to her.”

“You mean, for telling her all the things I wish I should have?” He replies, prompting you to look up and see his soft smile. 

“When all of that happened, I felt like there was nothing more to say to her,” he says after a beat of silence. “But seeing her again, knowing she wanted to talk now? Maybe there was something to be said, and I kinda just froze and you swept in and said all of that, much more eloquently than I probably would’ve been able to,” he hums. “So thanks, ___. I felt a big load off my chest because of that.”

“That’s a relief,” you sigh. “I couldn’t stand her acting all apologetic and risk her rekindling things with you. But do you believe her? About wanting to talk to you?”

“Somewhat,” he nods. “I blocked her number and unfollowed her everywhere on social media but she was trying to send a message on Instagram the other day so maybe she was honest about that.”

“And you’re not curious about what she wants to tell you?” You wonder.

“Nope. I caught up with a friend who still sees her posts and he said she’s had a couple of boyfriends since the breakup so what you said about reaching out to me a couple of douchebags later… that seemed accurate. I wouldn’t have thought of it that way.”

“Oh wow. I mean, I just made that up but I wouldn’t put it past her to be like that,” you shake your head. “She really might be trying to get you back, then.”

“Her boyfriends before me didn’t really treat her well, so maybe it’s the same this time.”

You know enough that in many cases, that pattern of relationships is rooted in some kind of pain. And you feel a tiny bit bad for Si-an if that’s the case. Jungkook might’ve been really the only one who ever treated her right.

“It’s not your responsibility anymore. You don’t have to deal with whatever she has going on, whatever it is,” you advise. 

“I don't want to anyway. What she did… that changes a person,” he sighs. “It’s not an easy thing to get over.”

He sees your somber face and thinks that with you seeing him like this, he might as well tell you everything.

“The night I caught her with that guy, she got emotional. She’d been drinking and it was her defense but it also made her more honest,” he continues. “That… that wasn’t the first time.”

“What the f—” you start, although you doubt any other curse word would suffice. 

“So yeah, that’s why it was hard to talk about and why I just wanted to forget about it. A part of me wanted to know why she did that. One time was something but more than once? That’s messed up.”

“You know, maybe I was too nice,” you groan. You remove your shoes and attempt to get up. “Let me go back and smack her f—”

He puts his arm in front of you to stop you and laughs. 

“It’s okay, ___. She got the message. She doesn’t deserve our time.”

“Ugh. I should’ve egged her face when I had the chance,” you growl.

He just laughs again and you’re glad it’s a sound you get to hear now. You look at him and see perhaps just a fraction of the pain underneath and hope you could do something to ease whatever is remaining. 

“So, I doubt you wanna get back in there. What if we buy something to drink here and get back to my place? Not unless you want to be alone or something…”

“Definitely not,” he says. “Your place is fine.”

“Alright, let me just tell Tae.”

You call your friend while you and Jungkook enter the convenience store to get some beer and something else a little stronger. Taehyung says that Jimin and Mo-eum are still enjoying themselves and that some of his friends have just arrived. 

“We saw Si-an,” you explain. 

“What! That witch is here?” He exclaims. 

“Yes. And I went off on her so she probably expects you’d do the same. I won’t be surprised if she’s left after that though,” you say. “But Kook and I will just hang out at my place.”

“Alright. I’ll tell Mr. Yang to drive you home.”

“Great. Thanks, Tae. Let me know when the three of you get home.”

“Will do. Hug Kook for me, yeah? He secretly likes those.”

“I will,” you smile, just as Jungkook checks out your purchases. 

You drop the call and inform Taehyung’s chauffeur where you are. 

It’s quiet in the car the whole ride home. You leave Jungkook to his thoughts, knowing that he prefers a bit of time for himself to process things. 

You arrive at your apartment, grab your drinks, and head to your small balcony. It’s quite chilly outside so you take your blankets with you and sit next to Jungkook. With cans of beer and a nice bottle of whiskey - that you take shots of while he drinks it on the rocks - you watch the moon sit prettily on the sky and think it’s not a bad way to end an unpleasant evening.

It’s quiet again for the first few minutes as you both settle in, and it’s Jungkook who speaks first.

“Thanks again, ___,” he says. “And not just for standing up for me but also for saying those things about me.”

“And I meant them. You’re a great guy, Kook, but she stuffed it up so sucks for her because someone else gets to have you now, or whenever. Let’s hope she’s a good one,” you smile. “But also, I’ve literally fought so many of our friends’ exes. That’s kinda my thing. Not that I’m proud of it but you know… I’m the back up when you guys can’t say what you want to say.”

“That’s true. There are those like us who find it hard and—”

“People like me who find it easy to get angry?” You finish. 

“I meant people who can find the words to say and actually say them like you,” he corrects. “Plus, I told you that anger is good sometimes. You’ve always stood up for us and we always appreciate it.”

“Well thank you. The times I did that for myself, it led to my relationships ending,” you bitterly laugh. “But I guess they were bound to.”

“Is that how you look at it? That they ended because you stood up for yourself?”

“I think it changes, depending on where I’m at in life,” you say. “I mean, isn’t that a normal thing? A defense mechanism of some sort? We shift the blame? Or chalk it up to immaturity or inexperience? Or think the relationship just ran its course?”

“What is it this time?”

“Lately I’ve been thinking it’s all of that, all at once. It’s me standing up to them but also probably me being too much, or too impatient. Maybe I had high expectations or I deserved better or maybe we weren’t a good match. Maybe I just wasn’t the right person for them, or for myself, at that time.”

“Hmm,” he hums, sipping his second glass of whiskey. 

He seems to be in deep thought, as he sinks a little deeper into his seat. You let him, as you let your own words linger in your mind. 

How would you know if you’re the right person entering a relationship? How would you know if the other is?  Or better yet, is it about being or becoming the right person? How do both of you get to that point without losing the person that you are?

“I was just wondering if there’s anything I should’ve done differently,” Jungkook says after some time. “So many times before, I kept asking myself if it was a moment or an action I did that made Si-an decide to just… do that.”

“Yah!” You nudge his knee then turn towards him. 

You’re two bottles of beer and three shots down and he’s a little distorted in your eyes but you still see the hint of sadness on his face. 

“Do not for a second think any of that was your fault. She did that. She made that decision,” you exclaim.

“I know, but what if I made it easy? I would pick her up from a shoot at dawn; sometimes I’d drive out of town just to see her for two hours,” he shares. “I was always around for her and maybe she saw me as expendable or too available and so someone she could treat badly and expect would forgive her. But then again, she was always clingy when we were around in public and I wasn’t because I wasn’t like that so maybe I should’ve been the same?”

“Kook, you wanted to be where she was because you liked her; that’s not being too available and that’s not a bad thing. And she just had this complex, okay? Like, she needs people to see she’s wanted,” you explain. “Otherwise she wouldn’t have taken you for granted. Whether you were busy or not around, that’s no reason to do what she did; she’d be loyal either way if she was a good person. And she wasn’t.”

“I guess,” he sighs, unconvincingly.

Wanting to make a point, you turn to him and cup his cheeks with your hands.

“Kook, look at me.”

“I am. And you look like a tomato.”

“Shush, I turn puffy when I’m mad and drunk,” you pout, but you continue.

“You are a great guy, okay? And you care about people. You treat your friends so well so I just know you treat your partners amazingly. You may not be perfect but your exes messed up. And I’m not just saying this because I’m your friend but because I can see it. Don’t ever think that you have to change or dim your shine or be less nice or more clingy to be wanted enough. Because the right person will want you regardless.”

Jungkook meets your eyes to let you know that he’s listening to what you’re saying, and that he’ll keep them in mind for the next time and next person, whenever or whoever that might be. He also wishes you can hear yourself and that you’ll take that to heart, too. You’re all kinds of great things; he just doesn’t know how to express that to you.

“Okay,” he smiles at you.

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay,” he chuckles.

You remove your hands from his face and turn your gaze back to the view before you. You lean your head on his shoulder and he shifts his body to make you feel comfortable. 

“We’re good people, Kook. We’ll find other good people meant for us, too.”

It’s a good thought, as the person who’s right or could become right for him is just out there in the world, going about their life, and completely clueless that the right person for them is out here, just waiting to find them.

It’s 3 AM by the time you and Jungkook decide to call it a night. It felt so long with everything that happened in the Club. You just spent the past few hours finishing some cans of beer and ¾ of the whiskey while talking about random things like your college days and books you’ve read and weird food you want to try and your non-generic fears.

You were close to tears due to laughter for half of it. Jungkook has this charming, playful sense of humor that’s different from what you’re used to with Jimin and Taehyung and it felt comfortable being able to experience him that way. 

You usually spend time with him within a group and these past few weeks of hanging out with just him has been nice. He’s thoughtful and attentive, holding your arm before you fall off your chair and making sure you don’t hit your head on the wall since you keep leaning back when you laugh. He plays along with your jokes and teases you constantly. He also has a quiet wisdom about him that’s very assuring.

To Jungkook, you’ve always been a fiery individual. You’re constantly moving, thinking, and talking. You have this burning passion for good things and you’re not afraid to speak out about them.

You work with many types of individuals and your energy and how you present yourself changes with each set of people. Within your friend group, everyone looks after you. They give you the hugs you always seek and make sure you’re fed and well taken care of.

Spending this much time with just you these past weeks has given him a deeper look into who you are outside of all that, which is all of those versions of you all at once. It’s quite the experience, as you go from angry to pouty to unhinged to sentimental then introspective in one sitting. 

And it’s entertaining for him. And exciting. Somehow it’s very reassuring. Especially earlier when you defended him to his ex and said all those good things about him. 

He didn’t realize it right away but his heart did a thing then. He’s not really sure why and where it came from, but it happened several times the rest of the night at your balcony when you cupped his face and looked in his eyes and every time you leaned on his shoulder. 

It’s doing it again now, with you softly looking at him - despite the glassy eyes - standing by the couch as you tell him to just spend the night. 

“I’ll fix the sofa bed while you shower. I have some of Jimin’s clothes here that you can use.”

“Okay,” he responds. 

“Oh, and one last thing,” you say, before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close in an embrace.

“Tae told me to hug you,” you whisper.

Jungkook chuckles and he takes it. But you sigh and rest your chin against his shoulder then there goes his heart again. He flattens his palms on your back and pulls you in a little tighter. 

It lasts for a few seconds before you pull away, pinch his cheeks as you like to do, and gesture towards the bathroom.

“Toothbrush on the first drawer and towel on the second,” you say. 

“Got it. Thanks.”

You pull the levers on the couch to convert it into a bed then put sheets and pillows over it. You put away all your beer cans and turn on the humidifier. 

You get in the shower after he does and then find him still sitting on the bed when you finish. 

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow,” you say while combing your hair. “I’m sure I’ll feel all this alcohol and sore feet all morning.”

“Sure thing. Good night, ___.”

“You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah. I already am.”

Jungkook stays up for another hour just staring at your ceiling. There’s nothing particularly interesting about it but it connects him to where you are, just behind the half wall that separates your bed space from the rest of the apartment. 

You’re probably in deep sleep and he hopes it’s a good one. You’d spent much of the night filled with emotions related to him, from the anger over what Si-an said to the heartbreak over what he experienced. At the end of it was the assurance and shared hope over the good that you both deserve and the love you'll one day find.

The tenderness of your smile and the warmth of your embrace linger after all that. Even more concerning, at least for him, was the rapid beating of his heart whenever he saw your lips turn up or when you’d try to cheer him up or when you’d move closer to him. 

He acted unaffected, as if everything was natural. But the thing is - it is. You’re naturally like this. You’re emotional and encouraging, passionate and hopeful. You’ve called out your friends’ exes before, which always left them stunned and speechless. You’ve had hundreds of pep talks that Jungkook had been the receiver of or witnessed. 

And you’re affectionate, endearingly so. You have this fondness for all your friends, which they all return with the way they take care of you. You like to hug and cuddle and cling to people and it’s never meant anything more - not to you and as far as he knows, not to your other friends. 

But tonight, it felt different. It felt confusing. It also felt good, like something he wants to feel again. And maybe he will, as the thought of spending the next day with you invades his mind. 

He finally falls asleep after doing the trick he taught you not long ago, where he tenses his muscles then relaxes them. It’s the next morning when a loud thump from nearby wakes him up from sleep. 

He turns around, as he’d cocooned himself to one of the pillows, then finds you standing by the sofa bed, grimacing in pain. He sits up and rubs his eyes. 

“What happened to you?” He grunts.

“I was gonna wake you up but I stubbed my toe on the foot of the couch,” you frown. “It hurts.”

“Show me,” he instructs, scooting to the side so you could sit down and stretch your leg. “You’re such a child sometimes,” he teases. 

You playfully smile then remove your sleeping socks and wiggle your toes but wince again in pain when you do.

Jungkook assesses it and decides it’s nothing to be concerned about.

“It’s just bruised. It'll heal soon but just put ice on it for relief,” he says.

You nod and watch him stand to get your cold pack in the freezer. You place it on your toe while he washes up in your bathroom and you already feel better. He comes back out and you say you just ordered hangover soup for the both of you.

“Do you have coffee?”

“Yes, Kook. It’s the one thing I actually have,” you giggle, given that your non-cook ass doesn’t have anything else.

You usually just get your meals delivered. Your mom also occasionally sends containers of food to heat up and Mo-eum and Hayoung sometimes come to your apartment just to cook. It sounds pathetic, you know, which is why you bought yourself an air fryer to make you feel a little less helpless. 

You just put something in, turn a knob, then wait. You’ve only used it a few times but still, it doesn’t make you one of those people with staple ingredients in their pantries. It’s something your friends often tease you about.

Jungkook pulls out two drip coffee sachets from the jar and you limp towards the balcony. It’s 1PM - you really slept through to midday - and the autumn sky is beautiful today. It’s also quite chilly, but it’s the perfect weather to enjoy your hot coffee outdoors.

Jungkook arrives with your mugs and the teapot and gradually pours the water over. You sit in silence as you wait for the drink to be ready. You’re still slowly waking up and he seems to still be in that post-sleep daze. 

He hands you your coffee and you hum in satisfaction after your first sip.

“Hmm. Reminds me of the second morning in Chungbuk,” you hum.

Jungkook smiles. You were surprisingly the first two people from your cabin who were awake that time and you spent almost an hour just talking on the picnic table outside. There was chaos in both your minds but it was calm all around. He remembers that day fondly. 

“Tae messaged and wants to know what happened,” you inform him. “He said we’ll all have dinner tonight at his favorite Chinese restaurant. We can just chill and then I’ll drive us there. I can drive you home, for a change.”

A tiny smile forms on Jungkook’s face. 

“Sounds good.”

You eat your hangover soup on your tiny dining table, then you spend the rest of the short afternoon on your couch while watching random shows on TV. You talk and laugh then sit in silence, then talk and laugh again. 

It’s Jungkook and he’s used to your fluctuating energy by now. You’ve been friends for over 10 years and he knows how you are - blabbering one minute then zoning out the next. You never felt like you had to be a certain version of yourself around him. You go from berating and teasing him to asking him to take care of you. 

It’s how you are with all your friends though. It’s why your friendship has lasted this long. It’s also why you think you’re able to just comfortably sit next to him with your messy hair and raggedy pajama pants and whine about your toe. 

He just laughs and takes it all in. He doesn’t complain about you nor does he make you feel bad about anything you do. Just like all your friends, he’s supportive and dependable, and you suppose it’s what you’ll always need.

It’s 6:30 PM by the time you’re driving out of the basement parking lot to the restaurant, with you insisting that stepping on the gas doesn’t cause any pain on your toe. You arrive and are led to one of those private rooms because with your big group, it’s just always better to have your own space where you could be loud without much care for your surroundings. 

You sit next to Hoseok, who babies you about your little injury because he truly is the most doting one out of all your friends, and to Mo-eum, who engages you in side conversations because there’s always something for you to ramble about. 

You let Jungkook talk about last night. He mentions Si-an’s Instagram message and narrates the things she said, then he repeats the things that you said, almost in verbatim. You stop yourself from exploding at the memory of your exchange with her but it seems that your friends are making up for your hesitation, as a few of them curse and shake their heads in response.

He leaves out the part about Si-an cheating on him more than once, and you suppose it’s not a story he intends to share with others. He was vulnerable with you last night, so when he assures your friends that the past is something he’s already come to terms with and that he’s truly moved on, you send him a soft smile. 

Jungkook’s heart does that thing again, and like the trained teacher that he is, he knows how to keep his emotions in check and not show them on his face. 

He can’t help it though, not when he’s reminded of last night, especially with how you seemed affected again with just his narration. You were groaning under your breath earlier, clenching your fist, and pinching the corners of your eyes. 

But like you always are, at the end of that rage is a kind of gentleness that he used to take for granted. Now, it’s what he looks forward to, whether it’s a smile or a lean on his shoulder or a pinch of his cheek. 

The conversations continue around him but he finds himself still being drawn to you. He hopes the way he looks at you is as natural as it always had been; he hopes the effect of the leaping of his heart isn’t that obvious, either. 

There’s a moment when concern creeps in, as he tries to make sense of what he suddenly feels, as if he just woke up one day and started feeling differently. He knows it’s too soon to act on it, though, especially with him still trying to figure it all out. He doesn’t want to risk anything, especially if it’ll cost him your friendship.

He tries to rationalize it. Perhaps he might just be reacting to how you’d been protective of him and it’ll pass. It could also be just a harmless crush or a fleeting one. He might also still be hungover. Or maybe it’s a result of how much time you’ve been spending together since your trip to Chungbuk, which hasn’t happened for a while, so maybe spending less time with you will return things to normal. 

He decides that not making too much effort to be around you will help stabilize himself and his stubborn heart. That is, until Taehyung makes an announcement, which apparently is the reason why he asked for this dinner.

“So… I got the call earlier,” he starts, looking around at everyone’s expectant faces. “I got the role on Broadway. I’m heading to New York!”

The room erupts in excitement and Taehyung sports that proud and appreciative boxy smiley of his while he gets hugs and high-fives.

“There’s been a delay with production but I’m one of the first casts. They wanted to lock me in right away because they know I’m eyeing another show,” he explains. “But I fly in May and the shows start in October. I’m so excited.”

“Oh, our Tae,” Hayoung says. “We’re so proud of you! We’re definitely flying out to watch.”

“Yes! It’ll run for a couple of months so there’s time,” he nods. “But since I’ll be leaving again and the holidays are coming up soon, I was thinking of going on a trip.”

“To where?” Several of you ask. 

“Hmm, any suggestions?” He asks back.

“Let’s go to Sapporo!” Jimin chirps.

It’s a place you’ve all talked about going to before, especially after your trip to Tokyo some time ago, so it’s not hard to convince everyone to agree. The planning begins and you all decide on a mid-December trip so it’s the school holidays and the rest can take their leaves. Some are checking out hotels while the others are searching up what to eat and where to stay.

Jungkook tries to process all the different conversations happening all at once but his mind goes back to his thoughts from earlier. So much for trying to spend less time with you. Now he’s thinking of those few days - snow, food, warmth… and you. 

And if he’s being honest, he can’t wait for December to come.

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[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

In general, I think it's currently really important for progressive Christians to be very loud about being both progressive and deeply religious Christians, and for everyone else fighting for progressive values to be supportive of them doing just that. I know that's like, idk, counter-intuitive or cringe or whatever, but seriously folks, the alternative is that progressive Christians have to be quiet about their faith to be accepted within broader secular and interfaith progressive advocacy, which means that the regressive asshole Christians (a) sound that much louder and (b) dominate the USian religious landscape all the more. That's a problem, for all of us.

We need people pushing back within the faith as well as outside of it, because that destroys any edifice that this is about Christianity and religious freedom.

You can be a devout Christian and also:

Openly, proudly, and without being forced to remain celibate or otherwise limit your full expression of self, identify as LGBTQ+ or be a supportive ally.

Advocate for full reproductive autonomy and comprehensive sex education.

Love and support people of other religious groups, non-religious people and/or atheists, by choosing to believe that a truly loving God would not pursue anything less than universal salvation.

Stand against evangelism and proselytizing as they have thus far been interpreted and used, because there are ways to interpret the Great Commission that don't promote colonialism and cultural genocide.

A steward of the earth, protecting God's beautiful creation and lovingly tending to it as the unique and incredible gift that it is.

A believer in science, rationalism, and human progress as part of God's divine plan for humanity.

A believer in history and someone who understands that the Bible can be both divinely given and open to interpretation (no really)(if you're confused, please talk to a knowledgeable traditional Jew)

An ally to Jews, who stands against supercessionism and antisemitism in the church.

And in before regressive Christians come shouting at me that (1) what do I know, I'm a Jew and (2) no lol you can't because of ___ reason:

My source is that I've personally met and talked to Christians of great faith and integrity - people who embody the closest forms of kindness I've seen to what Jesus himself advocated - who are each of these things.

It is 100% possible; you just choose to believe otherwise.

[minswriting]

No Higher Being Than You - Spencer Reid x Reader

about: for all my girlies who love munch spencer, here is a one shot about spencer worshipping you like you’re a god

warnings: NSFW content, minors do not interact, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, religious comparisons, not an accurate depiction of religion whatsoever.

word count: 0.6k

Ever since Spencer was a young boy, he had never really believed in a higher power. His mother was a paranoid schizophrenic and his father was never really around. Religion was never a topic of his childhood. How could it be? Spencer had to raise himself. And by doing so, he read many books, one of them including the Bible. When he read the Bible, he didn’t believe any of it to be true. It was all fictitious, nothing of real value that could explain how the world came to be. The scientific theories about the world had always made much more sense than a silly book. So it was safe to say that religion was not something Spencer believed in. He was a man of science.

Until he met you.

When you had walked into the coffee shop that Spencer frequently went to before work, he was completely mesmerized. The Boy Genius didn’t care for beauty most of the time. He wasn’t really too interested in people as a whole until he had met Maeve. But as he saw you, took in your appearance, he couldn’t help but thank the Lord above for blessing him with such a sight. And he had thanked the Lord once more when you had given him your number that exact day.

And ever since then, the two of you had clicked.

Not only were you the most beautiful person Spencer had ever laid eyes upon, you were the kindest and sweetest person ever. Your smile radiated the room each time you walked in, your laugh was music to Spencer’s ears. You were a mixture of funny, sarcastic, intelligent. You truly were a divine being. Spencer was completely and utterly enamored by you. He never failed to make sure you were shown just how much he adored you. Especially right now.

Spencer’s tongue lapped around your cunt, taking in the sweet essence that were your juices. You tasted magical as though derived from the Garden of Eden. The forbidden fruit that was worth every drop. Spencer took his time eating you out, savoring each and every moment. His nose rubbed against your clit as he tongued your hole. If premarital coitus were truly a sin, God wouldn’t have made it so lovely.

You were whining and moaning beneath him, your hand tugging his brown curls. Your sounds were beautiful, everything Spencer could’ve dreamed of. The hitch of your breath, the arching of your back, the curling of your toes, all because of Spencer’s touch. It was a blessing to be with you and his reward was making you feel good in any way he could.

“S-Spencer!” You moaned, tugging at his hair.

Spencer replied with a moan, burying his face deeper into your cunt. The vibrations of his voice sent tingles into your pussy, causing you to whine in pleasure. He moved his mouth to suck on your clit, swirling his tongue around the nub. You let out a high pitched moan, relishing in the pleasures Spencer was giving you. And Spencer could tell just how close you were.

You were his muse, his higher being. If God were real, you were it. You were the divine entity from the Heavens, blessing the Earth with every fiber in your being. When you came, thighs clenching around Spencer’s face, he felt praised by the skies. And he didn’t stop there. He made sure to make you cum multiple times.

Spencer Reid isn’t a religious man. But meeting you had given him a new meaning of religion. You were his higher being, his one true God to worship. And you absolutely knew it.

[communist-ojou-sama]

Given the preponderance of annoying interactions I'm having on this website lately I guess I will have to be the one to write a short note on the basics of Marxism that "Marxists" on this website do not understand.

The real world is not a puzzle-box, it is not a morality play, revolutionary or otherwise, it is not a supplement to a textbook.

Contrary to what your conservative parents told you, Marxism is not simply taking certain ideas, like the LTV or DotP or surplus-value extortion and extolling them as a catechism and demanding that the whole world conform to your one-size-fits-all theory of socialist development and revolution.

In fact, this impulse is called "dogmatism" by Lenin and Mao, and is thoroughly critiqued by them in many lengthy polemics.

Marxism is a social science that applies the framework of dialectical materialism to macroscopic social bodies, such as entire nations or international relations, in order to analyze the primary and secondary conditions that characterize the situation facing ones entire nation, or the world at large. If you lack basic historical and declarative knowledge about the a specific relationship within a society, or about a specific relationship between one country and several others, you Can Not apply the writings of Marx or Lenin in a general sense, to what that relationship Looks Like to you, and then write it off without further investigation. This kind of lazy behavior is EXACTLY what Mao is describing as "speaking nonsense" in the famous passage from Oppose Book Worship

You read Marx, Lenin, and Mao? Good for you. Now you can start really studying. Now read Nkrumah. Read Césaire. Read the analyses of actual 20th global south academics about neocolonialism and neoimperialism, and above all read actual analyses and text of the trade agreements youre getting worked up about, and develop the basic competency in economics to really understand the specific economic character of neo-imperialist extraction.

If you fail to do these things, if you fail to learn about the specifics, then all you will ever be able to do is talk nonsense.

[exhaled-spirals]

« To mention the global loss of biodiversity, that is to say, the disappearance of life on our planet, as one of our problems, along with air pollution or ocean acidification, is absurd—like a doctor listing the death of his patient as one symptom among others.

The ecological catastrophe cannot be reduced to the climate crisis. We must think about the disappearance of life in a global way. About two-thirds of insects, wild mammals and trees disappeared in a few years, a few decades and a few millennia, respectively. This mass extinction is not mainly caused by rising temperatures, but by the devastation of natural habitats.

Suppose we managed to invent clean and unlimited energy. This technological feat would be feted by the vast majority of scientists, synonymous in their eyes with a drastic reduction in CO2 emissions. In my opinion, it would lead to an even worse disaster. I am deeply convinced that, given the current state of our appetites and values, this energy would be used to intensify our gigantic project of systemic destruction of planetary life. Isn't that what we've set out to do—replace forests with supermarket parking lots, turn the planet into a landfill? What if, to cap it all, energy was free?

[...C]limate change has emerged as our most important ecological battle [...] because it is one that can perpetuate the delusional idea that we are faced with an engineering problem, in need of technological solutions. At the heart of current political and economic thought lies the idea that an ideal world would be a world in which we could continue to live in the same way, with fewer negative externalities. This is insane on several levels. Firstly because it is impossible. We can't have infinite growth in a finite world. We won't. But also, and more importantly, it is not desirable. Even if it were sustainable, the reality we construct is hell. [...]

It is often said that our Western world is desacralised. In reality, our civilisation treats the technosphere with almost devout reverence. And that's worse. We perceive the totality of reality through the prism of a hegemonic science, convinced that it “says” the only truth.

The problem is that technology is based on a very strange principle, so deeply ingrained in us that it remains unexpressed: no brakes are acceptable, what can be done must be done. We don't even bother to seriously and collectively debate the advisability of such "advances". We are under a spell. And we are avoiding the essential question: is this world in the making, standardised and computed, overbuilt and predictable, stripped of stars and birds, desirable?

To confine science to the search for "solutions" so we can continue down the same path is to lack both imagination and ambition. Because the “problem” we face doesn't seem to me, at this point, to be understood. No hope is possible if we don't start by questioning our assumptions, our values, our appetites, our symbols... [...] Let's stop pretending that the numerous and diverse human societies that have populated this planet did not exist. Certainly, some of them have taken the wrong route. But ours is the first to forge ahead towards guaranteed failure. »

— Aurélien Barrau, particle physicist and philosopher, in an interview in Télérama about his book L'Hypothèse K

[mannequinreligi0n]

NSFW ALPHABET: VERGIL

not me coming back to post anything but the third chapter of my priest vergil fic …. anyways, have this in the meantime while i wrestle with writer’s block.

i’d love to do this for dante and possibly whomever else, if there’s any want for it - my inbox is open!

obv nsfw warning for below, tried to keep it gender neutral as well - enjoy!

xoxo, obscura

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The eternal gentleman, Vergil is doting and attentive - making sure you’re satisfied, cleaned, and content after intimacy. He’ll always clean you before himself, offering water, back rubs, and maybe even a nice bath to get you feeling right again. If it’s in bed, cuddles are mandatory - Vergil sees sex as a bonding activity, and holding you in his arms or lying on your chest is necessary to connect with one another.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Vergil has spent years training to get the perfect physique for fighting. He takes great pride in how he looks, and is not shy about it - but a favorite thing about him? I don’t think Vergil has given it much thought.

It’s a different story with his partner. I will gladly die on the hill that Vergil is an ass man. Vergil loves to grab it, smack it, bite it - just overall handsy. Speaking of, he’s got a thing for hands. He will worship his partner’s hands, seeing them as divine devices capable of such grace and care.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Despite Vergil’s disdain for firearms, this man’s a shooter. He’s unfortunately hit an eye or two during oral with some straggling ropes, and he always feels bad but can’t help it.

He has a preference for coming inside (he will demand it most times, unless you’re adamant for something else). Though, he does appreciate the occasional facial. Something about marking his territory…

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Something tells me that Vergil picks up photography as a hobby when he returns back from hell. It’s harmless, mostly, but it’s strayed into the bedroom and he’s assembling his own photo diary of your sexual rendezvouses. On each page is detailed entries of what happened, what he found interesting, what made you tick, all alongside a photo of you folded like a pretzel or sitting pretty in a new set he bought you. ‘It’s for science’, he’ll say when you find it hidden under some other books on his desk.

I also think Vergil genuinely would love exploring being a sub to some extent. The man’s whole life has been a quest for power and control. But if he found someone he trusted enough, I think he would be willing to relinquish that control for a little bit and be at the whims of someone else. Call him a good boy? Tell him how good he’s making you feel? He’s melting like soft-serve in summer.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Vergil has experience, but it’s limited. The man is not a dog like others are quick to assume due to Nero’s conception, but he did experiment a little in his 20s.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Lotus, standing dragon, and ol’ reliable: missionary

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Vergil is a perfectionist at heart and sex isn’t an exception. It’s very few and between that you’ll have him acting silly during such an intimate act. I think the only time he’d truly be more loose and laughing is if he was inebriated in some way.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well groomed, may let it grow in if he’s been with someone for a long time due to comfortability. I don’t think he cares how his partner grooms themselves, as long as they are cleanly - to each their own.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sex is about devotion to Vergil. He takes it seriously and ensures his partner feels absolutely valued and worshiped. If time permits, Vergil is taking the time to set the scene. You’ll come home to freshly washed bedsheets, lit candles, and dinner already made and prepared for serving. It’s all-encompassing for him, more about the bond between you two than the result.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I feel like he edges when he’s frustrated. Just to punish himself for whatever it is that is bothering him. However, I don’t think he masturbates often, as he finds it a waste of energy.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bdsm is a given, duh. A rope junkie - loves to tie you down in impossible positions, or to be tied up himself, forcing himself to put his trust in you. Body worship, breeding, temperature play, pet play. Handcuffs, gags, cameras, leashes. The voices are also telling me he’s into blood play……much to think about. But ONLY on him - he’s not too keen on actually hurting you outside of hickeys and bruises.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom, absolutely. Again, sex is not trivial to him. If not in bed, definitely in the bath. However, even the devil in him gets the best of his control sometimes and he’ll squeeze a quickie in the back of the car or the bathroom of a bar.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing you do mundane tasks drives Vergil up the wall. He’ll stand there and watch you bend over the washing machine, doing paperwork, fixing your hair, and it’ll be more of a turn on than any lewd act. Something about seeing you so blissfully unaware of your natural state is too much for him. Bonus points if you’re doing housework and disheveled - clothes a mess, sweat on your brow. He’s practically foaming at the mouth.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Carelessness in any regard is a huge no for him, whether it’s out of ignorance or stubbornness. He’s a proud man and doesn’t tolerate blatant disrespect.

I mentioned it briefly above, but hurting you seriously is off the table. Safety is the utmost priority when it comes to you for him - he will not jeopardize that in any way.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

MUUUUUUNCH. He is a munch, I swear it. It’s mostly out of greed, if we’re being honest. He loves to watch you squirm, see how many times he can make you come alone from his mouth before he dares to fuck you. Loves face-sitting, he sees it as a challenge. Will also view oral as a form of body worship - he will take his damn time.

Vergil will never admit it, but he also loves to be on the receiving end. Loves to see you on your knees, taking him to the hilt and feeling you gulp around him. Careful, though! He’s a head-pusher.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Varies on the mood. If it’s more of a loving, sensual session, he will drag it out for as long as he feels necessary unless you tap out or flip him over out of impatience. Rougher, heated goes are another story. His movements will be unforgiving and staccato, ramming into your slick with purpose and ferocity.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Mentioned above. It’s only really if he physically can’t get you home quick enough. Or if you have an argument. He loves a good post-fight fuck.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Vergil is always looking for ways to push his own boundaries. He’s spent years honing his strengths and learning his every weakness - of course he’s gonna want to put them to the test. Whether that’s trying something new or getting a more risqué.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Demon genes go crazy. I think he could easily go back to back a few rounds before calling it quits. Any less would more so be for the wellbeing of his partner. I think Vergil purposely tries to last as long as physically possible to push himself, but sometimes he gets a little too lost in how soft your skin feels or how tightly your squeezing around him to hold back any longer.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Vergil wouldn’t be too knowledgeable about toys, but if he had a partner that was, he would be open to exploration. (Honey, go get the strap)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

HE IS A BRATTTT (365 party girl)! Whether it’s orgasm denial or straight up refusal to even touch you, he’s playing the long game.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts and growls, for sureeeee. It’s more animalistic than anything. Not a talker, really, as he gets near silent when he’s in the zone, but he’ll make sure to pepper in some praise or instruction here and there so you stay present.

When Vergil is on the receiving end/subbing, it’s a different story. WHINY. So, so whiny and blubbers out nonsense. Whimpers and moans so unlike the stoic warrior, you have to do a double-take to even be sure the sounds are coming from him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Oral fixation.

Also secretly a big fan of pet names: darling, sweet, love, little one/bird, sweetheart.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Vergil is a big man. 6’5, to be exact. Add devil genes in the mix and the man’s packin’. I don’t think it’s anything ridiculous, but I’m betting on a good 8 when hard. Uncut with a slight left curve. Definitely nothing to be shy about.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Vergil spent years in solitude - I think he can handle a lot of pining. He’s patient and panther-esque, ever waiting for the right time to strike. That being said, if you and him were long-term, I think he’d make it a point to have sex integrated into your regular routine, to keep your relationship and minds secure. Health is wealth, after all.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He has a hard time sleeping in general, but it’s a little easier when you’re tucked in his side, bare and satisfied. He’d probably lie awake for a while, even after you dozed off, just to hold you close and remind himself you’re really there and he’s safe from harm.

[prokopetz]

Do you ever have a passive gripe with the way trade is represented in medieval/sci-fi/post-apocalyptic fiction? I can't shake the feeling that those are societies that have moved beyond the need for abstract currency - that such forms of trade are more a concession for the viewer to analogize trade to our world instead of offering some kind of unique barter for a world.

A medieval peasant isn't gonna want gold coins for jack because the next trade caravan is two seasons away, they'd much rather a useful tool or some extra fertilizer. Credits in science fiction universes can become worthless due to Future™️ hackers setting their bank accounts to extraordinarily high values, so extra parts for firearms and spaceships are much more useful. Caps in Fallout just make no sense in a world where food and water are few and far between!

I feel unreasonably grumpy about this and I wanted to know if you have any kind of insight to this kind of thing.

There are a couple of only partly related problems here:

1. The idea that the economies of most sci-fi and fantasy settings, as depicted, don't make any sense. This is absolutely true, because most science fiction and fantasy authors don't really think about that sort of thing – their settings only have economies to the extent that the details of those economies are relevant to the plot, which they usually aren't.

2. The idea that it doesn't make sense for currency to exist in these settings because most of them logically ought to have barter economies. The trouble with this assertion is that there's no such thing as a barter economy. Yes, you can describe what one would look like, but no civilisation which has ever actually existed has operated in this fashion. It's a made-up idea – at best, a spherical-cow approximation of how the exchange of goods and services operates in a stateless society, and at worst, complete bullshit.

Consequently, whether or not it makes sense for anything like currency to exist is going to depend on the particulars of how the setting's economy operates (i.e., all the details that that are getting glossed over in point 1, above). About the most we can say in nearly all cases is that we simply don't have enough information about a given fantasy or sci-fi setting's economic structure to know whether it makes sense to have currency or not; we can't just assume in the absence of further details that things will default to a barter economy, because – again – there's no such animal.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The high levels of consumption enjoyed by wealthy countries in the Global North are only possible because of mass appropriation of labor from the population of the Global South. This is evidenced by research from the Institute of Environmental Science and Technology at the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona (ICTA-UAB), which indicates that this appropriation takes place through unequal exchange in international trade and global commodity chains. The new study, published in Nature Communications, measured the flows of labor embodied in traded goods around the world from 1995 to 2021. The results show that in 2021, the Global North imported 906 billion hours of embodied labor from the South while exporting only 80 billion hours in return. In other words, for every hour of labor the Global South imports from the Global North, they must export 11 hours to "pay" for it. As a result, the countries of the Global North net-appropriated 826 billion hours of labor from the Global South, across all skill levels and all sectors: mining, agriculture, manufacturing and services. The figure of 826 billion hours is more than the labor rendered by the entire workforce of the United States and Europe combined. The wage value of this net-appropriated labor was equivalent to €16.9 trillion in 2021, in Northern prices. In other words, this is how much the appropriated labor would be worth if it was paid at prevailing Northern wages, with equal wages for equal work. "These are staggering figures. It shows that very large quantities of value flow from the South to the North each year" says Jason Hickel, researcher at ICTA-UAB and the Department of Anthropology at the UAB. "The Global North grows rich by siphoning value out of the South." Unequal exchange occurs because of systematic price inequalities in the world economy. Powerful states and corporations in the Global North seek to compress wages and supply prices in the Global South, to obtain inputs and other goods more cheaply. Producers in the Global South are then forced to export more goods and services in order to buy any given level of imports. This results in large net-transfers from the Global South to the Global North, which benefits Northern firms and consumers but drains the Global South of productive capacities that are necessary for development. "Labor that could be used to improve human development in the Global South is instead appropriated to service capital accumulation in the Global North," said co-author Morena Hanbury Lemos, also of ICTA-UAB. "This is a major driver of deprivation in the South, and it needs to be addressed," she says. According to the study, wages in the Global South are between 87% and 95% lower than Northern wages for work of equal skill, and between 83% and 98% lower for work of equal skill within the same sector. Wage inequalities are so extreme that high skill labor in the Global South is paid only one-third the wages of low-skill labor in the Global North.

29 July 2024

[quasi-normalcy]

So, in science & technology studies, one of the words we throw around is "scientization," the act of making something into a science. And, you know, a lot of this is good, or at least neutral: the scientization of medicine; the scientization of cosmology; it means that a field has gotten more rigourous and definitive than it used to be.

But in politics, what scientization often means is that something that should be a policy issue is kicked over to scientists as a means of naturalizing or normalizing it, exempting it from normal political debate, or avoiding responsibility for unpopular decisions. "Oh, we needed to bomb this place because our models said it would end the war faster"; "Oh, we needed to privatize this service because our economists said it would save us money"; etc. And a lot of the debate in the field of science policy is given over to the question of when is it legitimate to kick something over to scientists, and in what contexts, because it's often kind of arbitrary. Like, I think that anyone who takes climate change seriously believes that science needs to inform the response to it, but you can build whatever assumptions you want to into your models, and the math will gobble them up indifferently; and Western liberal governments have overwhelmingly chosen to imagine scenarios where we can just keep doing capitalism because magical new "carbon capture" technologies will probably be invented down the line, and cap-and-trade will probably work perfectly, and anything that might be lost due to climate change can be straightforwardly assigned a monetary value and compensated, and refugees from desertification and rising sea levels will probably just not exist and so on. [Obligatory reminder that Climate Change is way worse than pretty much anyone in mainstream politics is willing to admit]

And anyways, I think that a special case of this "scientization-as-political-bullshit" phenomenon is at play in the field of polling. Like, consider Kamala Harris's entire campaign (or if you prefer, practically any neoliberal politician's campaign anywhere in the world since 2008 or so). This was a campaign where seemingly every decision was kicked over to pollsters. Can't call conservatives weirdos--you might offend moderates! Can't call on Israel to stop bombing Gaza--you might offend moderates! Can't stand up for transgender rights--you might offend moderates! Can't call for single-payer healthcare--you might offend moderates! And so on, and so forth. In every case, it's trying to do politics without being political, and it's doing so by embedding a bunch of incredibly insidious assumptions into models and then calling it science! Like, maybe "moderate" voters would get on board with a ceasefire, or trans rights, or single-payer healthcare, if a prominent politician with a billion-dollar war chest to get her message out fucking tried to make a case for it! Like, remember when the overwhelming majority of Americans opposed gay marriage? I do! I wonder why that changed? Or, for that matter, why courting moderates--as all of these models seem to assume--should necessarily be a higher priority than inspiring disenchanted voting-age adults to turn out at all?

And I worry I'm making this sound like innocent incompetence--it's not. This was done very specifically and very intentionally to foreclose upon discussion of progressive priorities while saying that you're being scientific; while saying that you are, ridiculously, being apolitical when a running a political campaign. And now we have these useless, disingenuous assholes patting themselves on the back and saying that this campaign was never winnable! Because the "SCIENCE" says so!

And meanwhile, you have Donald Trump--idiot nazi bastard thug child of a demon and a swine Donald Trump, cursed be his name--bowling through the political scene like a bull in a china shop, utterly indifferent to all of these fancy-schmancy mathematical models and too stupid to understand them...and winning enormously! Making his own coalition. Because thick as he may be, ignorant as he may be, incurious as he may be, he at least knows one single solitary thing that the Democrats don't: Politics isn't science; it's magic. And you don't get anywhere in magic without the will to power.

[michanvalentine]

I was mentioned in a pro-Ascendant Astarion post with this quote: "Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess." This is the post it’s taken from: click me!

No problem at all—it's public, and I don’t see why anyone shouldn’t reference it. Naturally, the post was in opposition to that statement—generally speaking, I mean—but that’s fine too. Everyone has their own opinion and is free to express it. That’s not the point of my upcoming ramble! xD

It’s just that rereading my own words got me thinking more deeply about the topic and made me want to explore it further.

Now, I’m not a psychologist, but I did study psychology. I took several exams at university and I actually did pretty well, lol. I didn’t complete my studies because life took me elsewhere—most importantly, my daughter was born—but the general knowledge I gained from psychology still follows me in everything I do every day.

So it’s second nature for me to analyze characters from the media I consume through that lens—Astarion included. Of course, this is just my perspective; I can’t say for certain whether the developers intended this for his character or whether they did specific research into his psychological development.

That said, today I feel like going off on a little tangent about this beautiful science. Still in reference to that heart-stealing vampire spawn that I’m aaaaabsolutely not obsessed with.

Let me also add a disclaimer. The concepts mentioned are just examples and cannot be applied literally, as every person is different and reacts differently to situations and stimuli. Likewise, the brain is plastic—neural connections change and adapt, and there is almost never a fixed or definitive condition. Above all, I’m not making any kind of diagnosis! That’s not within my competence! Keep these ideas well in mind!

So, why do I say that Astarion doesn’t have a well-developed sense of self? Let’s take it step by step and talk a little about the concept of the "self". I'm copy-pasting something from another post, lol. Rewriting it from scratch is too much work! xP

The self is quite a complex concept with many facets. Briefly put, it’s shaped by various internal and external factors and reflects a conscious image of "me." In psychology, it’s key to building the Ego of an individual—the capacity to act, understand, organize, and interpret experiences. The Ego provides a sense of uniqueness, coherence, and personal continuity since the self encompasses many "faces." All this forms the personality of an individual, which naturally develops (and changes) throughout life.

Particular attention in the formation of the self is given to sensitive periods, such as early childhood. The self determines the level of self-esteem based on an individual’s assessment of their worth and competence in the characteristics they attribute to themselves (Real Self), their future aspirations (Ideal Self), and what they want to avoid (Feared Selves). The greater the discrepancy between these aspects, the lower the level of self-esteem. Social support and approval, as well as competence in domains deemed important to the self, obviously contribute to perceiving oneself as a person of value.

Astarion, as we know, has had his sense of self fundamentally undermined. For him, the world is divided between those who have power and those who don’t, with the former always being the "winners" in his eyes. The magistrate he once was is long dead, along with his moral compass and the life he used to live—especially after 200 years of servitude to Cazador.

As vampire spawn, akin to a newborn in some respects, Astarion learned to exist solely within Cazador’s world, revolving around Cazador, for Cazador.

There are lines of dialogue within the game that highlight this in a painful and terrifying way. For example, when Tav/Durge directly confronts Cazador, or when Cazador ends up on his knees in front of Astarion after one of his brothers or sisters dies during the ritual. Cazador says: “He [Astarion] is afraid. He’s afraid because all he has ever knows is you and me. And without us, he is nothing.” Or: “And then? What will you be without me? A shade? A specrte in the shadows, devoid of all purpose.”

It’s a terrible thing, but it’s true. Cazador represents everything—Astarion’s entire world—and when he dies, he leaves behind a void that’s even more frightening. And let’s not forget that, in the real world, it takes very little to completely erase a person—and two hundred years in the hands of an abuser is an overwhelming amount of time, a detail that too often gets underestimated or completely forgotten.

The whole matter becomes even more disturbing and painful when Cazador suggests that without Tav/Durge, Astarion would have come crawling back to him with his tail between his legs. To his fucking tormentor. And sadly, it's a painful concept because it really happens in real life—when you have nothing and no one, when you have no means of your own and are completely dependent on another person, no matter how terrifying they are. Cazador is certain that Astarion will return to him, even if it means dying. And it's a concept with a devastating impact.

So Cazador was the domineering father figure, and vampire society functions under strict rules handed down by vampire lords. In this hostile context, without any room for self-expression or choice, Astarion developed a fragmented and damaged self-image. Constantly belittled by Cazador as an individual (small, weak, useless, incapable, all words he uses in the game), always pitted against his brothers and sisters, and degraded from a magistrate to a prostitute (this is important because it’s the only skill—or "talent," as he calls it himself—that Astarion believes gives him any value or power, forming the basis for his self-image). It’s easy to imagine just how high his self-esteem must be, right? Most importantly, he never developed the skills to navigate life as a free individual—at least not in a healthy way.

Good Lord, he thinks that in order to receive support, he has to sell himself to Tav/Durge and offer his sexual services—otherwise, he has no hope of survival! And that’s why I say he doesn’t possess all the skills of a well-adjusted adult. Other glaring examples of this—so glaring they hit you like a punch in the eye—are his inability to say no and to recognize his own limits. And shall we talk about the infamous question: What do you want? The first time, he deflects, and essentially gives the answer the player wants to hear. The second time, he states it plainly: he doesn't know. He doesn't know how to make decisions, he hasn’t done it in 200 years, and the very idea terrifies him to his core. These are all skills that a well-balanced person possesses—let’s not kid ourselves.

Like any mature and well-balanced adult, one knows how to recognize their feelings, define them, communicate them, and most importantly, not fear them. Astarion, on the other hand, is unable—after 200 years of pure shit—to understand what he feels for Tav/Durge, and he won’t be able to until the end of the Pale Elf’s quest. “I don’t know—but isn’t it nice, not to know? You’re not a target, nor a victim, not just one night it's better to forget. But then... whatever in the world could you be?”

So, even if reluctantly (and despite his fear), he ends up leaning on Tav/Durge. He needs a guiding figure to help him figure out what to do because making decisions and acting independently don’t come naturally to him. Especially outside of his talents, sex and survival. He needs to be rehabilitated, re-educated, and to achieve this, he requires a safe and healthy environment where he can experiment and grow, perhaps developing other faces of the self on which to base a new evaluation. Like, I'm not just a slave or a whore: but I'm also a companion, a friend, a lover, a hero and I'm able to listen, to help, to learn, to collaborate, etc.

And let’s not forget that when the fateful confrontation with Cazador is brought up, Astarion explicitly asks Tav/Durge for help. “I need to take the fight to him. And I need you to help me,” he says. How to help him—whether to ascend or not—is up to the player and how they choose to play. But the fact remains: Astarion needs support.

Meanwhile let’s take a look at some of the consequences of low self-esteem:

Difficulty opening up in social settings and communicating one's emotions and needs

Extreme self-criticism

Devaluing or ignoring one’s own qualities

Tendency to constantly apologize and feel guilty for things that are not actually one's responsibility

Tendency to appease others due to perceiving oneself as inferior to one’s peers

Use of negative words to describe oneself

Difficulty making decisions and maintaining personal goals over time

Negative and self-blaming internal dialogue

Belief that success is due to luck, with difficulty attributing accomplishments to oneself

Not believing compliments that are given to them

And now, let’s look at the most common causes for the development of low self-esteem:

Being raised by extremely critical and demanding parents

Being heavily devalued by parents or other authority figures

Being ignored or ridiculed during childhood

Being a victim of physical, sexual, or psychological abuse

Achieving poor academic results

Experiencing episodes of bullying or mistreatment in the workplace

Suffering a financial collapse or a significant breakup

Being subjected to a prolonged period of stress

Suffering from a chronic and persistent medical condition

Suffering from psychological disorders (e.g., anxiety or depression)

Does this remind you of something? Or maybe someone in particular? Does that person, by any chance, have red eyes and pointed teeth?

Naturally, these are just examples, and everything varies depending on the individual, but I believe these points still manage to convey the concept.

They especially give the idea of how much events—and especially the context in which we live—impact our psyche. For example, thanks to neuroscience and increasingly detailed brain imaging, we know that brain areas change according to the factors mentioned above; they train like muscles, so to speak, becoming larger and more reactive every time they are activated.

So, if someone is subjected to chronic stress, the brain areas responsible for managing it will become easily activated, bringing with them a whole series of consequences that affect performance, behavior, perception, thinking, and so on.

Likewise, the more the “right” areas of the brain are activated, the more the brain itself will develop in a healthy and balanced way, forming neural connections that support the tools (perception, thinking, etc) mentioned above.

Meanwhile, other areas—such as those related to stress responses—will remain small and more difficult to activate. (Obviously, brain areas don’t literally “grow” or “shrink” in size, but the connections between neurons (synapses) are strengthened or weakened depending on how much they’re used. This is a principle known as “neural plasticity”: what you use becomes reinforced, what you neglect becomes weaker.)

A curiosity: even our mood influences how we perceive people and the world around us—and consequently, our thoughts and impressions too! xD

This image is heartbreaking, because these brains belong to two three-year-old children—and the differences are significant.

The brain on the right is missing key areas that are present in the one on the left. These missing parts impact the abilities of the child with the smaller brain:

this child will likely be less intelligent as an adult compared to the one with the larger brain,

will be less capable of empathizing with others,

and will be at higher risk of becoming addicted to drugs and involved in violent crimes.

Additionally, the child with the smaller brain is more likely to remain unemployed and dependent on social services, and may develop mental health issues or other serious health problems.

The large difference in size and development between these two brains is not due to illness or injury, but rather to how the two children were treated by their mothers.

The child with the larger, more developed brain was loved by their mother, who was consistently present and attentive to their needs. The child with the smaller brain, on the other hand, was neglected and abused. It is precisely this difference in treatment that explains why one child's brain developed fully while the other’s did not.

Of course, our favorite vampire spawn isn’t a developing child—but the point is that certain environments and experiences have a profound impact and shape many aspects of our lives, making us more or less equipped to face challenges.

At this point, I’d like to focus a bit on the reasoning process in general. It’s easy to believe that when humans think, make decisions, and reflect on a problem or task, they do so in the most rational way possible. And that’s where we go wrong! First of all, the cerebral cortex — the part of the brain responsible for complex cognitive functions such as thinking, awareness, memory, attention, and language — is located in the upper region of the brain. Most stimuli, in order to reach the cortex, must pass through all the lower areas of the brain, which often trigger behavioral responses even before the stimulus reaches rational thought. For example, the activation of the sympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for danger responses. A silly example: how many times have we jumped out of our skin before realizing that the loud, scary noise was just a window slamming shut? First comes the fear response, then the evaluation of the stimulus follows.

As if that weren’t enough, the brain plays other little tricks on us — without us even being aware of it — because that sneaky thing does a whole lot on its own, especially when it comes to thinking and making decisions.

So... Astarion has a very limited perspective—mostly the one offered by Cazador. As we said earlier, the world is divided into those who have power and those who suffer it. Period. But we all know that in between there are infinite shades of gray, and that can’t be denied. In the same way, Astarion believes that Tav/Durge is the exception to the rule—the only kind person in the world, the one and only for him. But as much as it flatters our ego to hear that, we know very well that no one is that special. It’s always Astarion’s perspective that’s extremely limited. And in fact, here too, Tav/Durge has the opportunity to broaden his view, to point out that the world is full of kind people who would care for him if only he opened himself up and showed kindness in return. This narrow way of thinking and seeing things, this resistance to noticing alternatives, fits perfectly into the category of cognitive biases.

Let’s start with the premise that the human brain needs to be both effective and efficient. That means reaching a result in the shortest time and using the fewest resources. Therefore: when we think and make decisions, we don’t always do so rationally. We use heuristics—mental shortcuts—often following patterns we've used before. A silly example: if I have to cook a dish I’ve made a hundred times, I don’t sit down to rethink how and why I should cook it—I just switch off my brain and do it the way I’ve always done. Many heuristics are good and useful—others, not so much. And when they fall into the latter category, they become biases.

There are many types, but let’s look at one that we all, even us Astarion fans, share. xD Confirmation Bias!

Confirmation bias manifests when we tend to search for, interpret, or remember information that supports our pre-existing beliefs, ignoring anything that contradicts them or isn’t completely aligned.

Once a certain mental imprint forms, new experiences only deepen that groove, without any willingness to explore other interpretative modes—in fact, they tend to further crystallize internal beliefs.

We can say that the person is cherry-picking—in a complex set of data and information, they pick out only what resonates with a belief they already hold, which, in some way, is convenient for them.

The reason is easy to see: if I don’t challenge a belief—even if it’s irrational—I’ll save time, create less friction, and reduce internal and external resistance to a given situation.

Because confirmation bias shows up when a person selects only the evidence that supports their point of view, it easily becomes a self-sustaining system, keeping them locked in an interpretive and experiential microcosm that risks becoming increasingly stifling—a self-built prison.

Astarion is stuck on tracks he’s known inside and out for centuries, forcibly carved into his mind—and for him, it’s all too easy to filter everything through that lens. And this cuts him off from a myriad of possibilities, in a completely unconscious way. It’s like throwing a wrench in your own gears. So Tav/Durge represents an opening to a different value system, one that could replace or at least expand our vampire spawn’s worldview. Not without resistance, of course—those brain connections will get you!

So, to conclude, let’s go back to the beginning and to the statement in question.

"Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess."

Yes, maybe out of context it might sound bad. I certainly don’t see Astarion as half a man, incapable of thinking or choosing for himself. But I do recognize that he has serious vulnerabilities that need to be treated with care and taken into account. Not when we're playing—when we play, we do what we like and have fun—but when we analyze him as a character. When Astarion, at the end of the Pale Elf quest, in the good ending, thanks us for saving him from himself, what he means, in my opinion, is exactly this: thank you for supporting me when my vulnerabilities, my fears, my blind spots, and my narrow perspective were getting the best of me. Because, let’s be honest, Astarion’s story is also about this—about rediscovery, about learning to live again, about changing, improving, growing, developing relationships, new abilities and skills. Not as a rogue or as a vampire, or within game mechanics—but as a person.

The point is: Astarion has come out of a horrific situation, one that has to have left marks, wounds, infected pus festering beneath the skin. A situation that never allowed him to understand what he liked, what he wanted, who he really was—simply because he couldn’t express himself, couldn’t think about his own needs, couldn’t say no. Couldn’t develop his sense of self in peace and safety.

A situation that left him unable to face the world and the people in it in a healthy way, unable to identify and express his own feelings, unable to say that damn "no" or to make choices. To decide, yes. And in fact, every time he’s asked what he wants to do, his answers are vague—or he says he doesn’t know, or admits that he’s afraid of those damn choices. He’s afraid of freedom, of consequences, and of everything else beyond the four things he knows—the four fucking things Cazador drilled into him, all around power and control.

And I’m really supposed to believe that the one choice he’s absolutely sure about is Ascension? Hell no. Just like he's not sure he doesn't want to ascend!

References

Rogers, C. R. (1961). On Becoming a Person: A Therapist's View of Psychotherapy. Houghton Mifflin. → A foundational text on the concept of the self, self-actualization, and congruence between real and ideal self.

Winnicott, D. W. (1964). The Child, the Family, and the Outside World. Penguin Books. → Explores the importance of a safe environment in the healthy development of the self.

Bowlby, J. (1969–1980). Attachment and Loss (Vols. 1–3). Basic Books. → Describes how early attachment figures shape our internal working models and sense of security.

Erikson, E. H. (1950). Childhood and Society. W. W. Norton & Company. → Introduces the theory of psychosocial development across the lifespan.

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence—From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books. → Explains complex trauma, victim-perpetrator dynamics, and the long-term effects of abuse.

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking. → Offers neuroscientific insight into how trauma reshapes the brain and affects emotional regulation.

Siegel, D. J. (2010). The Mindful Brain: Reflection and Attunement in the Cultivation of Well-Being. W. W. Norton & Company. → Discusses neuroplasticity, integration, and the development of a coherent sense of self.

Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, Fast and Slow. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. → A deep dive into heuristics, decision-making, and cognitive biases like confirmation bias.

Malaguti, E., & Morganti, P. (2014). Psychotraumatology: An Integrated Model for Trauma Treatment. (Translated from the Italian). FrancoAngeli. → Addresses the psychological and neurological consequences of prolonged trauma.

[viradahlen]

Some scattered thoughts about Wesker's character and STARS

Your worst sin is that you've destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing" - Fyodor Dostoevsky.

Wesker grew up in an environment controlled by Umbrella. I like to think of it as an institute or orphanage. He must have felt lonely. He must have been alone.

This fact is not trivial because loneliness is thematic and yet ambivalent when it comes to Wesker's character. His relationship with other people and humanity as a whole is complex but fundamental to understanding his motivations. We know for a fact that he is not averse to being alone and even enjoys solitary walks through the Arklay forest. He also talks a lot to himself. But is his relation to aloneness one-dimensional?

He was human (and in some ways, he still is even after his death and rebirth). As a consequence, alterity interplay necessarily shaped his identity, even if he himself went so far as to cast away his humanity, deemed a weakness. This credo does not pertain only to Wesker. Alex Wesker, Dr. Marcus, Spencer, William Birkin, Sergei Vladimir... Umbrella's executives and higher-ups regard humanity as a dead end to be overcome with the help of science.

But unlike them, Wesker managed a small family team for almost 3 years. And unlike them, even after his rebirth, Wesker never really works alone.

I like to imagine how much inner conflict and cognitive dissonance the STARS era must have triggered. Can you really select people that you find highly capable, train with them, earn their respect and trust, and not care at all ?

Is it truly possible that he was but a cold monster, conditioned by Umbrella to destroy the world and embody the future of humanity ? An efficient tool that was taught how to identify valuable people and exploit their abilities ? Is Wesker just repeating with others what Spencer did with him ?

It’s an interpretation of the character. I find it too plain for my tastes. Wesker is a man of contradictions. He values freedom, is brilliant, and yet he is never able to think outside Umbrella's conceptual box. He values efficiency and yet seems unable to get rid of Chris and Jill. He obviously craves control and seems wary and distrustful, which is probably a result of Umbrella's smothering grasp on him since childhood, and yet he trusts Ada, Krauser, Excella and other people to carry out his plans, increasing the risk of betrayal. Wesker is multifaceted, and so is his relationship with humanity.

Wesker's education is undoubtedly orchestrated by Umbrella/Spencer. Conceived and planned by Lord Spencer and his colleague Dr Wesker, Albert’s education was designed to make him an active defender of utilitarian philosophy, though devoid of its moral aspect. 

I believe the STARS, its inability to let go of the past, particularly Chris, reveals a failure in Spencer's plan.

Even if "little piggies" sounds provocative and unflattering, and even if he evokes "a family reunion" in an ironic way, there is still something along the lines of possessiveness that manifests itself here. When it comes to Chris, Wesker is the most ambivalent, helping him during the events of RE1, lamenting that he "cannot understand" his vision in RE5 and expressing his pride at every encounter.

The point is that Wesker almost never made a choice that wasn't designed or foreseen by Umbrella in his life. Even his suicide and following rebirth, a last-minute plan that was his way out of Umbrella (he symbolically steps on his glasses branded "property of Umbrella"), was overseen by Spencer. But he did choose the STARS members himself with no criteria forced upon him.

When he was given full latitude to build up a team from scratch, he selected talented people, sure, who displayed for most of them an unconventional profile and/or a sense of honor and justice. Chris was kicked out of the USAF, Jill's father is a notorious thief (and herself is suspiciously good at picking locks), Kenneth is a chemist, Richard Aiken lost his sister and wanted to protect others, Rebecca is caring and brilliant,... etc. Wesker's targeted people who were courageous, empathetic, and strong-willed. And yet, at this point, he didn't know what Umbrella's planned to do with them. He chose them freely, with no hidden motive at this point, without Umbrella interfering.

He willingly chose to surround himself with people who absolutely did not share his beliefs. He did NOT choose meek and/or plain people. He COULD have found competent AND cynical, less idealistic, less intelligent, policemen. People whose job was really just a job. But he chose them, introducing a risk factor as he was actually reporting to Umbrella. He chose people who follow their own moral compass, though they are less likely to be manipulated, are more difficult to lie to, and would rather not compromise. People with a sense of justice are often fierce and eager to defend their beliefs even though it's not in their best interest. They could have put Wesker in a delicate position, and, as a matter of fact, Chris, Forest, and Joseph were hated by Brian Irons.

So, why did he do that ?

If you listen attentively to Wesker's soliloquy in RE5, while he tries to pursue Chris as a clumsy octopus-like monster, I believe it makes sense if you consider he sees himself as a Messiah and a Creator.

Wesker states that he hates humanity. But before his experience with STARS, humanity was actually comprising his colleagues within Umbrella. He doesn't know the world even though his denial and inflated ego and probably his own suffering help him believe that he does. Umbrella taught him that people are worth less than nothing. (Though ironically, Umbrella's executives and accomplices, such as Brian Irons, probably reinforced Wesker's belief that humans were to be punished and corrected).

And so, when he loses his mind, he does not ramble, like a classic comic book villain, that humans are stupid or a lost cause. No. He laments that he sees "war and pestilence" wherever he goes. It is very telling : He desperately craves peace and he only sees the world as Umbrella taught him. And it's horrifying. He relishes on being a Creator, a Demiurge. A GOOD one. He wants to punish humanity AND start anew. That's precisely what Uroboros, a never-ending circle of life and destruction, encompasses.

Wesker doesn't only want humanity to face its long overdue punishment ("this winnowing"). He wants humanity to do better, to be closer to perfection, even though his method is totally irrational (as you could argue that he was the one bringing up War and Pestilence at its climax in their universe...).

He hasn't killed Chris, nor Jill, AND he EVEN confesses that he should have killed him YEARS ago. But why does he want his former pointman to understand ? Why is he OBSESSED about Chris "not understanding", if he isn't supposed to survive ?

I think that in Wesker's twisted mind, Chris represents what humanity should be at its best. Wesker fawned over his Tyrant because it was his creation. A new human, created by him, the first step to his new world. But Tyrant is soulless. Chris, Jill, and every member of STARS he chose, trained, and teamed up with, embodied values that he regards as worthy, honorable but not fitted for this corrupted world (according to him). If he calls out Chris on his self-righteousness, it's because Chris does good deeds in an evil world, which Wesker deems worthless because that's inefficient (utilitarian thinking). A drop in the ocean that changes nothing. However, the members of STARS (a name that evokes hope) had a soul. They were drops in the ocean. And they were his.

There is something so enticingly complex about a character who implicitely confesses that the world would be a better place if people were all as good and pure as the STARS members were, while he brutally killed them all in a way that reminds me of the sacrifice of lambs on behalf of a God that is supposed to be fair and good.

He is Frankenstein's beast and a coward and a man that preferred to be cruel (with the intent to be a Savior) than weak (and admitting he was only a pawn in Umbrella's grand scheme of things).

And so, he suffers from chronic backstabber disorder and delusions of grandeur. He believes that he had to escape humanity to punish them and save them, that he had the courage to do what is necessary for the greater good when he is, deep down, just a man. A man who is very angry, very hateful, a coward who walked a path of loneliness because it was much easier than to face the truth : The world can only be painted in shaded of gray and certainly not in black and white. But that would mean throwing away the great destiny that Umbrella designed for him (for Spencer actually, but he realized that at 50 yo...). That would mean that he is just a man, wronged, "manufactured", manipulated and slowly turning into a BOW. Their BOW.

Wesker, who blamed "loathsome humans" for turning the world into a cesspool, was actually one of these humans he so despises, partly because he never really abandoned Umbrella's mindset ("you're just another one of Umbrella's leftover" ie : a thing that belongs to them and doesn't think for himself which is TRUE).

And paradoxically, ironically, he betrayed and murdered in cold blood people that would have helped him make the world a better place.

[skull-fvcker]

Morality

❥ Yandere! Arcane Viktor x Gender Neutral! Reader

A/N: cross-posted from my ao3. Old fanfiction from 2021, written way before season two. Thought I might as well post it here—the final episode broke me, by the way.

Summary: Years worth of obsession and fantasy obfuscated his once comprehensible brain. But it felt as if this was a crucial transition. Viktor is convinced he is a good man, but his actions are speaking otherwise against his morality.

Warnings: 7204 words, MDNI, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, viktor is delusional, yandere viktor by the way, dubious consent(he coerces you), unhealthy and one-sided relationship, gender-neutral pronouns used for reader, no usage of y/n, gentle sex, set in season 1

In all honesty, Viktor did not know how it started or when it got out of hand. It started as a simple fascination and he had treated it as such. Nothing was wrong with that, he was a man of science after all. It was in his nature to feel drawn to things that he did not quite understand. Many years have passed since that day. Before his strange obsession came into his life. Honestly, now that he was alone to think about it, had it ever come into his life at all? Or, by some force of nature, he had forced it into his own life? The ever-changing flow of time halted the very moment Viktor had initially realised that he had more than a problem on his hands.

Viktor thought of himself as a man with morals. He was not the best person, yes, there are plenty of others that shone brighter than he did, but he found his value in his work and ethics. That being said, nothing about him was right. His work had been clogged for year's now; the chaotic office space merely setting as a permanent indication that he had slipped too far this time. Above all else, he had guaranteed himself that his work came foremost, give or take a few instances in which it did not. This case was different, however. A disturbing accomplishment that, when asked initially, he wrote off his findings as evidence, or even lack thereof. Whether or not he was believed, was foreign to even him.

Directly adjacent to his cluttered working place—being neat had long passed his troubled brain, hadn't it?— lie his crutch, sat in such a way that it may fall at any minute. Viktor paid it no mind, at least not at first, but looking over his notes and the observations that he had written down, an idea popped up within what was left of a comprehensive state of mind. Of course, how could he have been so oblivious to forget such a thing, it was written clear as day in these scattered notes. His nimble, cold fingers grasped at the end of his crutch and he tugged it over and dug it into the floor while it enabled him to stand.

Viktor's book laid sloppily in his hand, page open in clear view. "Yes," he breathed, "I suppose this will do." He closed the withered book and shoved it between his left arm and clothed side. Periodically, an opportunity was difficult to come by. He had to do the best with what he had been given, though an itch in his brain told him that: why settle for fine, when you can go beyond?

The aforementioned person that he mentioned, the obsession - the two had never even met before, Hell, Viktor was certain it never even knew of his existence. It was ostensibly a normal upper city citizen with no strange qualities, nothing special about its behaviours nor its personality. It was normal. But it made him feel bizarre inside. He could effortlessly correlate it to that of an over-easy egg slowly cooking within a skillet until the yoke bursts for seemingly no reason and tarnishes the taste of the egg entirely. Just like that, it was ruining him. Granted, neither of them seemed to be eggs, but he believed the metaphor to fit rather well. Humanity always seemed to be so fickle, so easily swayed and broken. Just like an egg.

No matter the weakened disposition he had, nor the lingering scent of death he had become accustomed to, nothing prepared Viktor for the way his certain obsession made him feel. He was intelligent enough to not let these be known, oh, how he would hate the way that Jayce would assume the worst of his sentiments. Would he? Jayce had changed rather strikingly since the first day the two had met. Nevertheless, Viktor never seemed to be the man for love, much less protection of those around him.

Moreover, he was sure that with such dehumanising language and behaviour, nobody would hear his side of the matter. After all, calling the object of your affection an "it," and "thing," definitely does not look good for your compassion. Still, it gave him a reason to humanise his behaviour—if his obsession is not seen as equal, then what's the issue, exactly? To be blunt, it served no purpose other than to make him feel better since not a soul knew of this but him.

Sure, it did not occur to him that he would have strayed this far, but sometimes you have to do what you can to keep someone safe. He was in no state to protect someone on his own, he knew this far too well, he could never protect anyone with this sickly, frail body of his. That is why kidnapping was an absolute must. Reminiscing of the past did no good but to open up older wounds that set themselves up for failure, but the first day they had formally met was an exhilarating experience.

When they had seen him, there was a quizzical expression plastered on their face, and they even confused him for a council member of all things—never attentive, he presumed—but upon realising who he was, Viktor found himself met with immediate scepticism. Viktor could not fault them, it was something he knew all too well, though, maybe he should have saved his anguish for another day. The way their warmer hand held onto his own when he reached out to shake it. Their hand was soft, softer than his at least, and much less calloused. Smaller. Yet, their fingers did not hold the appearance of his own; on the contrary, they looked healthy. Healthier than him.

Of course, with someone who seemed to not have any imperfection, how was Viktor not supposed to fall for them, much less become intrigued with their very existence at that point? Humans were so fickle, he knew very well with how his body had grown to become sicker, but they seemed so robust, so self-sufficient. It was just like any other person, nothing too special but it stood out to him and that was what mattered.

It hurt him, really it did, to see them gawk at him with betrayal, to seem so frightened of someone who wasn't even strong, to begin with, but love came with sacrifice and even if he couldn't help everyone, then he would try to help them the best that he could.

Viktor revolted and fought against his rationality, he really did, he tried his absolute best to make sense of both his actions and what he had done. Within the months, he had thoroughly convinced himself that it was for the greater good, for the safety of his obsession; to keep them isolated from others. It was not the healthiest choice, he would acknowledge at the time, but now he may argue that it was the only thing he could have done upon meeting them formally. He just could not let them go.

Months had passed since that day, but it was fun to reminisce sometimes. Besides, it was even better that, when he had the time, they were someone in which he could spoil with every day. Yes, Viktor took things slow and always was sure to leave them be, yet give them company, but watching them stare at him with a look that he could hardly even decipher anymore, left him breathless. And he didn't even know why.

That very thing forced him into the very dilemma that he is in now. Standing in front of a locked door with a flawlessly crafted key lying in his tremoring hand. It was from excitement, he knew it was. It was like this was his own secret sanctuary where he hid his most precious desire and treasure, his perfect obsession that wept behind locked doors. It was the same every day, no matter how long he would stare.

The door opened with a slight rasp, the only other noise being a stifled sob and the sound of scuffing against the floor, then the buoyancy of bedsprings. His stiff body staggered against the sturdy cane, his hunched over body barely allowing the light to pool in around the walls of the door frame. Every day seemed no closer to his objective. He didn't even know how he had done this. Years worth of obsession and fantasy obfuscated his once comprehensible brain. But it felt as if this was a crucial transition.

Viktor is convinced he is a good man, but his actions are speaking otherwise against his morality.

"Good morning, dear. Have you slept well?" The sounds of chains screamed in his ears when he spoke. All these years and his lover still has not gotten used to their living state. "Ehh... I have already assured you. Good behaviour is rewarded, please understand that this is an absolute must to keep you safe." They were terrified. Of him. Isolation was a punishment and he could never help but feel dreadful about them being punished for things out of their control.

"When can I go home?" was the concern they always pleaded with whenever they saw him. Viktor tried to not let it get under his skin, really he did, but the knowledge that they did not want to be with him weighed heavy on his mind. He loved them, they had to recognize. Their eyes were so passive; it reminded him of when he had first seen the mutation, Rio, when he was a young boy. Curiosity, distress; panic. They just did not understand this yet.

Perhaps all the days that he merely sat there and stared at them with a desolate expression thoroughly destroyed the way they would perceive him, or how he would blatantly ignore their tantrums and screaming, tapping his fingers along the edge of his crutch like a patient father waiting for their child to calm down. Of course, Viktor never mistreated them. The most he did was further isolate them, which explained the absolutely pitiful state that they were in right now.

Reluctance to accept the changing future will result in the fear of what's to come. He understands it's different from what they were used to. But one must adapt to their surroundings and become accustomed. Viktor has already sacrificed so much for them; when was it their turn to return the favour? The ever-changing future is something he will never know for certain.

Viktor sighed, watching them press their body against the nook of the room where their bed had been so delicately placed. The bedsheets had been sent into a state of disrepair, and certain pillows seemed more shapely than the rest. From clutching them too tightly, he inferred. It was adorable.

"This is your home," It was no wonder that they attempted to squeeze themselves farther against the wall when he staggered closer. "I don't have any food this time, I'm afraid," he stood right at the side of their mattress, directly in front of trembling form, his eyes fixated on the plate that sat adjacent to the bed, at least a few days old now. "Though, I'm glad that you, ehm, were able to finish your last meal. Good job." A sigh escaped him after the carefully placed praise fell from his lips and, upon staring hastily at them, he recalled the fear blending within their wide eyes. "However," he found himself fumbling over his words, "I know that you've been a little, eh... downcast, as of late so I have decided that I am going to offer you something that I'm sure you would love," he paused, almost reluctant to reach forward and stroke the hair behind their ear. Hesitant to touch them lovingly.

This situation was a troublesome one, of course, it would be, but he was not a fool in the matter. He read up on numerous articles simply so he can keep things safe for them — falling for one's captor, he had thought about it, yet the turmoil often sets in when he realises that they hadn't developed such a thing just yet. Had he not been too kind? Perhaps, it was the chains around their body? Particular disorders of the mind were so hard to force into existence; was that such a terrible thing to wish for? They looked as if they served more as a pet than anything else, honestly. But that's love, this is just his love. Viktor was well aware that a plethora of things regarding both he and his health weren't precisely right, particularly in concerns to other people. Honestly, staring at them in such a miserable state made him feel almost remorseful.

They must feel so trapped, not to mention secluded, after all, he was never able to spend as much time with them as he would have preferred. He wondered, did they feel imprisoned in their own body, too? Probably not in the way that he did, but it was a suspicion that lingered in his mind. He set his hand on the side of their face unexpectedly, and they jolted back. Granted, he was certain that his hand was freezing. But, Hell, it appeared as if they had almost whimpered at his touch. Still, he had never done anything to harm them, he's only keeping them safe. The images of the mutation Rio sitting in a tank of fluids that he knew all too well now, the thought of it being kept alive despite its pleas not to. Such lengths are just an experiment to preserve life. He understood, now. Not in the way that he should have, but he did.

Maybe that was how they felt. Like a trapped animal, frightened and alone. But they have him, they may not want him, but he is there.

Viktor's knees buckled as they pressed against the edge of the mattress, gently hoisting one after the other to get closer to the horrified individual hiding from his affection, which was already something which he never exhibited frequently.

"I want you to understand," he ran his thumb along their cheek with feathery soft touches, "I know you still don't understand why I'm doing this, or why you're here but rest assured that it's all out of genuine love." When you're going to change the world, don't ask for permission. "Alone. You're lonely and you're scared. I know how you feel. But you're special," their eyes met Viktor's for but an instant and it sent shock waves down his spine. Don't ask permission. "You're special to me, and that is what truly matters at this moment." They were about to cry. Correction, they were sobbing. And it was all his fault. Emotional turmoil mixed with the trauma enforced within them made this happen - because of Viktor.

And despite it all, Viktor could not help but feel proud of his accomplishments.

"Please," their name rolled off of his tongue like a loose screw in his brain, though more akin to a prayer. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, please." Their disobedience irritated him and sent his nostrils flaring, but he didn't allow that to show outwardly. They were already so skittish, why would he threaten them further? "Mm, I will reiterate it as many times as you desire: good behaviour is rewarded. If... If you're good—for me—then, and only then, will I allow you to go outside." His words set off a fire in their brain, he could tell how their breathing unexpectedly halted and they went completely tight-lipped. Was that all it took for them to settle down? An effortlessly broken promise?

Right, they were at their wit's end, weren't they? Their emotions override their rationality. The sunlight would be good for their health, after all. Quite frankly, the thought was unsettling, Viktor didn't want them out of his sight, but if it would make them satisfied then he could make configurations for such a thing. Though, he would have to be cautious to not allow anyone to see them. What if they tried to... escape, in a sense? It was dangerous, he would have to think about it thoroughly.

"Do you mean it?" They said, suddenly. Their head was raised aloft and their wide eyes stared directly at him. "If I'm good... I'll be able to go outside? It's—" A sharp inhale. "It's been months," they were optimistic. Why was it so unbearable to see them so miserable?

For all but a juncture, Viktor felt himself at a loss for words. There was no telling whether or not he would be able to keep that promise, but he could try. They just need to learn to embrace change and adapt, maybe they will forget about it in due time. "I mean it," he said without thought, "you have my word." Did they, truly? You should not make promises that you are incapable of keeping, but just this once, the way their expression lit up and how the tears fell from their eyes, made Viktor feel as if he had done something right this entire time. Without a single word, his hand slowly lowered from their warm cheek, his gangly fingers running alongside the edges of the collar that adorned their flawless neck.

In pursuit of great, we failed to do good.

How would Viktor feel if someone had done this to him? It was a rhetorical question; nobody cared for him enough to go to such drastic lengths to proclaim their love. Therefore, this couldn't have been an unfair thing for him to do. "We must adapt to change," he spoke softly as his fingers danced around their trembling jaw. "You must adapt to change." His voice dropped an octave, gaze falling back onto their face. He had adapted to this change flawlessly fine, it was them that had to figure out how to. They were ultimate perfection in his eyes—there was just one, little issue...

"What are you doing?" Their voice quivered. Viktor's hand slipped down to their collarbones, pinching against the soft fleshy prison.

"Ahm, eh, I am... feeling you, merely. Nothing more," their breath hitched at his actions. "Unless you want me to do more?" An unexpected whimper came from them, in which he did not know if it was good or not, but knowing them, it emanated from apprehension. "I love you, you know that. I would never force you to do something. Think of it as a friendly suggestion," Viktor's blunt fingernails found themselves becoming caught on the neckline of their shirt. "So, will you let me?" There was a pause between them. Most importantly, the air seemed to grow still. Tension so thick that you could slice it in half with a knife.

They shifted but didn't give Viktor a clear yes or no. In all honesty, they seemed to be dismissing him altogether. He could feel their body heat begin to amplify, a telltale indication of both their embarrassment and if he dares say desire. A relatively foolish notion, he was well aware, however, that did not mean anything in his mind, not in the current time. The future could come later, and his life may pass him by. But the future does not exist, does it? Not until you make it so. If he didn't take satisfaction in the opportunity that he had right now, then it may never come up again.

Nevertheless, he took the chance and leaned forward, inch by inch until his face had pressed into what was seen within the crook of their neck. Their skin was soft, warm; pulsating. "I am obsessed with you," both of his hands set themselves upon their shoulders, thumbs clutching against the blade of their clavicles. "I am, truly. My devotion, my love, my obsession for you—that will be the only thing that will never change no matter the year to come. You may push me away all that you desire, but I will come back to you. I love you." His chapped lips pressed in between their jawline and neck, a chaste kiss that he allowed to linger on their skin. They didn't even bother pushing him away. They had the strength to, yet abstained.

We failed to do good.

"Understand my efforts," his voice was barely above a whisper, "you must have seen them. Make sense of my love for you." His grip on their shoulders tightened, but he knew it would never be enough to harm them. It wasn't as if he wanted to injure them in the first place, either. However, it was short-lived, and Viktor's hands fell from their shoulders to their bound wrists, and straight down to their tremoring hands. "I have always wanted to do more with you—to be what most would consider a "couple" yet you keep pushing me away." During his rambling, Viktor heard them mumble something under their breath. "Could you repeat that?"

"I said I'm sorry," they whispered. For the first time, it seemed that they were apologising to him so sincerely, maybe with actual suspicions that something may transpire if they were to not apologise. It was startling, but a chance to hear their voice was satisfactory for Viktor. There was a lingering breath that he could feel tickle the back of his neck, coupled together with their heaving chest. They were scared.

We have to make it right.

Viktor felt his heart hammer against his rib cage, a knot forming in his throat bitterly. This clammy feeling in his chest was unneeded. "Well," he spoke with a sharp exhale, "do you know what would make me forgive you?" As if he hadn't already forgiven them, to begin with. Upon feeling them nod slowly, Viktor pulled away from them and hurried his hands from their own, to their neck. His touches were faint, but loving. Held a certain edge to them, hinted at with a distinct emotion. "I'm very sure you're aware of what I'm getting at," his breathing picked up, just as theirs did, and for a few instants, it seemed that theirs was in sync with his own. To his surprise, they shifted and nodded in agreement, but did not vocalise it.

Anxiously, Viktor proceeded to slowly creep his body forward, even closer to them than he was before. He felt his heart thumping against his rib cage, the wind being knocked from his lungs as he shakily exhaled. Viktor was not the type of man for sex, he never had the time to do it; but when it came to his little obsession, why not indulge? Their consent was dubious at best, but at this point, any hint of acceptance was promising enough for him. He struggled to rationalise his thinking but instead was only met with a cluttered mess within his brain. Viktor couldn't concentrate on anything other than them at this moment. It was just the two of them, and that was all that truly carried weight to him.

His kisses against their skin were light, virtually non-existent, but the genuine love that he harboured for them persisted despite their shuddering breathing; despite their apprehension. Viktor's lips pressed against their tender jawline until he finally met the edges of their lips. His hands were twitching, cupping the sides of their face with his thumbs caressing the skin underneath their eyes. This would be their first kiss together. Would they reciprocate it? He sure hopes that they would in some way, they don't seem to have any reasoning as to why they wouldn't. He pulled back momentarily to stare at them, only to notice that they weren't looking at him at all. That would be okay.

"You're mine," he breathed as he pressed his lips against their own once again. Viktor felt as if his chapped, thin lips were being engulfed by theirs—though, theirs were equally as chapped as he were. He made a mental note to up their water intake. The kiss did not quite feel the way that he visualized it to feel—he thought it would have felt more romantic in a sense. Moreover, he would have believed that they wouldn't be chained to the wall in such an intimate instant. But, good behaviour is rewarded. This was temporary, they knew that, as did he. Just as the kiss was about to end, he felt them lean into it and press their lips into his own. That, above everything else, made him feel like the blessedest man in all of Piltover. Of Zaun, anywhere.

"I love you more than anything," confessed Viktor as he pulled away from their lips. "I'm glad that you're mine." And he meant it.

Their breath hitched just as it constantly did when he touched them. Maybe it was the fact that his hands were gradually examining their body, tilting across every crevice, from where their midsection concave whenever they'd instinctively suck it in out of humiliation, to the quiver of the skin around their navel when his fingers ran along the sensitive region. Viktor's hands were underneath their shirt, his wiry fingers eagerly squeezing the skin. They squeaked at first, his hands were frigid after all but eventually unwound though not peeking at him. Viktor wished that they would look at him like a person rather than an oddity.

The hem of their trousers huddled against their hips, hiding away the most intimate part of their body that only Viktor was allowed to see. For a moment, he looked into their eyes for the right to go ahead, but upon being avoided, Viktor merely yanked them down with enthusiasm pulsing through his veins. His thumbs pressed between their navel and hipbones, in an almost comforting gesture. But it wasn't as if they cared in the long run, however, he could hear their hitching breath. Through dirty-minded thoughts, Viktor's right hand loomed above their sex while his other clasped against their hipbone for support. He was actually doing this—something that he had just as much as dreamed of for years.

"Please," their whiny voice startled his thoughts. "Just... be gentle with me," they didn't seem to be in the mood to fight him at all. That's good. Viktor was sure he had neither the strength nor the energy to deal with it.

His thumb pressed against the sensitive nub below, threatening a gasp from them. "I'll never hurt you," he rubbed their hip in synchronisation with his sensual touches against their sex. "I promise, I will do what I can to make you feel pleasured." His breathing picked up as arousal trickled down his spine like that of the emotions that he loathed. "I want... to see the inside of you. All of you," he spoke aloud, a hint of longing in his tone which he had shoved back this entire time. He wanted them to comprehend his love to its full potential.

Viktor's face pressed against the crook of their neck once again, shifting his hips as he closed his eyes. They were making noises, now, their chained wrists clicking against the harsh metals as they lifted their hands to dig into his back. Secretly, he had hoped that they would call his name. He knew that they knew it. They've spoken it countless times before. Granted, it was always in a fit of rage or hysteria which followed, "I hate you," and, "You ruined my life." But they knew his name at the very least.

Moreover, they were unravelling at the seams. They liked this just as much as Viktor did. They loved him, they had to. Lust and love were on a thin line, so closely drawn together yet had such distinct differences. Could the same be said about obsession? Maybe so, but that did not mean much by this point.

"I love you," he breathed into their neck, his warm breath no doubt sending shivers down his spine or so he hoped. "You feel so soft, so pretty..." His fingers toyed with their sex, jerking in sporadic movements which caused their hips to buck against him, further spurring him on. "Do you like it when I touch you like this? Like I—" his breath hitched when their hands clenched the fabric of his vest, "Like I own you?" For once, they actually agreed with him.

"Y-yes," they let out a pitiful, rueful whine more akin to someone who was used to this sort of thing. But that was inane. They belonged to him. "It feels—It feels really good, I..." Their hips were rolling now, eagerly trying to accept his love rather than pushing it away like they always had been. They were accepting change. They were adapting. "Jus—just like that, please, Viktor—"

And at that moment, time seemed to halt.

They said his name, not out of pure spite or anger, not from him doing something they did not like, but in pleasure. The pleasure that he was inflicting on them. "You're doing such a good job, So good for me," it came out as more of a wheeze than praise, though there was a hint of worship hidden within it. "Are you going to come soon? I want you to come undone because of me. I love you," his lips returned their place at their neck, his crooked teeth nibbling onto their soft skin, further forcing out a reaction from them. Just from their responses and noises alone, Viktor felt as if he was going to come any second now instead, and he hadn't even touched himself. All he could feel was his dick beginning to strain against his dress pants.

It was getting so hot and stuffy, surely he should take off his vest and dress shirt soon. The things that they did to him were things that he didn't even expect. The love he harboured, the desire he held—they were his weak spot. This precious creature. Viktor felt his breathing pick up as he pulled his teeth away from their neck, their delicate skin caught between his incisors.

Once more, slowly, his fingers gently danced around their sex, forcing himself to concentrate and try to block out the absolutely lovely noises that they were emitting. The noises, be as they may, were provided to him involuntarily, he attempting to reject the wail of pleasure that came from them. The squelchy sound of their fluid pooling around his fingers met his ears, giving a sick taste of satisfaction. His left hand clenched their skin a little too tightly for even his standards, the wiry fingers of his right hand working against him, deliberately circulating apart and snapping concurrently, a shudder running down his spine at the howl they made along with the response their body offered. Devoiding much of a thought, Viktor pulled his left hand away from their hipbone, dragging the appendage straight to the front of his dress pants, fumbling with both the zipper and hem in an attempt to pull it away from his groin.

"Oh," he heaved as he pulled away, ignoring the whimper that came from his lover in front of him. They wanted this. They needed this. Needed him. "Would you mind if I tried..." The words died in his mouth as soon as they came out, his left hand hovering above his concealed groin. Surely, they would say yes? They seemed a bit dazed, though perhaps it was his fault for not allowing them the relief that they were so close to acquiring. "I want to... feel you. I may not last very long," he fished his dick out of his boxers, feeling his face heat up to the point where he was sure it was red. "Do you want to?"

They made eye contact with him this time. The humanity, the want, the greed and the fear shone in their eyes brightly, but nothing could cover the telltale signs of love and lust. Viktor already knew the answer, they didn't even have to answer him, he already knew what it was going to be by their reaction alone. This was the key to their heart.

Now, at first, Viktor would not lie when he said that it made him feel a bit shy, or nervous—the thought of them seeing such an intimate part of his body, one of which he knows can be heavily judged based on size, was nervewracking to him. But the lack of disgust in their eyes—or maybe it was hidden between a thick cloud of lust—made him believe otherwise. They liked what they saw, and hopefully, nothing would change the way that they saw him. Their approval is what he strives for. However, that does not exactly matter with how far things have gotten. How many times has he repeated that phrase in his head?

The silence was deafening, but it was enough for Viktor to shuffle forward and shift his weight onto his somewhat good leg, swallowing the rising lump in his throat as he used his free hand to pull down their trousers. After this, he would be sure to give things a thorough wash. "Can you come closer?" He asked as he pulled his hand away. Please come closer.

He hadn't expected them to listen to him, nor to actually push themselves off the wall just to get closer to him, but, at the same time, he was not complaining. "Good job," he praised, his hands returning to place on their hips. Their skin felt so warm, but Viktor could still feel the reluctance radiating off of their perfect form. Now, this was just a question of whether or not he should go through with It. If he should finish claiming them.

The rattling chains served as a constant reminder for them to not fall out of line, and Viktor was sure that they did not want to do such a thing, especially not so close to salvation at this point. Steadily, Viktor felt their thighs wrap around his hips, and though the pressure and their weight being shifted onto him were agonising, he tried to force his way through it. The way that he could feel the tip of his dick press against them—that was like pure ecstasy. He never thought the day would come when they would grind into his lap so sensually, and act as if they had never tormented him for years to come.

"God," there was a slight plea laced within his velvet tone, "I need to be inside of you. Please," as much as Viktor loved them, he could never trust them to be the one providing. Not with how their behaviour had exhibited... less than desirable traits. "Will you allow me? We could finally become one in a sense. I just want to feel your insides around me, I want to feel your body heat against me." Whether or not they found pleasure in Viktor's begging, they offered him a response anyway:

"Shut up," was what they said. "Go ahead."

And with that, Viktor found himself slowly pushing their body down into the mattress, further ruining the bedspread and sheets that weren't even properly fixed in the first place. They still seemed reluctant, as their tone even harboured a certain edge to it, but hell, Viktor could not fault them. He feels nervous, too, of course, he does. Pulling down their trousers fully to their calves, he felt a knot grow within his throat. The thought of someone else doing this to them caused bile and jealousy to rise within his empty stomach, curling and screaming in the back of his mind, yet he pushed it aside in favour of much kinder thoughts.

A part of him wished to be able to twist and manipulate this circumstance, but he knew he didn't want to do such a thing - Viktor wanted nothing more than for them to just become wholly his and only his until death would take hold of them both. And even then, that would not split them apart nor dwindle his love for them. "I'm going to..." There was a brief pause, embarrassment etched across his face, "Er, make love to you," he spoke aloud, though it was more as if he was convincing himself that he was going to, rather than informing them.

There was little to no resistance when Viktor pressed himself inside, but it was such a foreign feeling that he could not help but whimper at the sensation. They were warm on the inside, and not the mention that their body would occasionally clench around his dick. His golden eyes gaped at their face, eyeing the expressions that they would make, all the way until the hilt of his dick finally pressed against their pelvic area. This was embarrassing.

Shamelessly, Viktor pulled back his hips, only to snap them forward with a moan. He tried his best to keep quiet, however, with the way that they started breathing heavily with their knees pressed up against the sides of his thighs, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. They were perfect, they felt perfect - on the inside, the outside, no matter. He hunched his body over their own, using the strength in his arms—what was left of it, anyway—to keep himself up. Viktor had no clue how long he would last, nor how his body would allow him to continue. But with how it felt, he hoped it would be long enough.

"You—you're... You're big," they suddenly confessed, a slight whimper escaping with the moan that left them. Fuck, they sounded so adorable like that. "Don't... Stop, please—"

A shiver ran down Viktor's spine at the blatant praise that fell from their lips shamelessly, it seemed so heinous, almost as if they were trying to get him going. "Ah..." Keep talking. "You, ah—you think so?" He panted as his hips snapped forward once, then twice. Was he drooling? Shit, he was drooling. "You feel so good on the in—the inside. So warm, so inviting. I would never... want to stop," a particularly loud moan escaped him, which seemed to be a hybrid of both a moan and wheeze. His lover didn't seem to notice nor care, however.

Why would they ever want to leave when they have such luxury in their life? Here they were, underneath Viktor with their eyes clenched tightly, hands balled up in fists as strings of moans escaped their bitten lips. They looked gorgeous like that. It even made Viktor feel powerful to know that he was able to make them feel such a way. Nearly impossible, he thought, if they weren't tied up and reluctant to accept him, they might have tried something devious and that would have ruined every single thing that Viktor had planned. Still, they're accepting his love.

His rhythm wasn't exactly straight nor following any set beat. Viktor felt as if his movements were sloppy and skewed, choppy thrusts and shuddering muscles that he was surprised had lasted this long. He could feel himself growing close, but he couldn't allow himself to unless they had, first. They mattered more than anything else.

"D... Darling," he nearly cried out, "I love you so much—" One of their hands threw itself behind Viktor's head, tangling their fingers within his messy locks of dark hair, gently tugging him forward. A shock ran down his spine at the gesture.

"I know," they breathed, "I know you do." Were they feeding into his delusion and leaving him to feel as if they felt the same, or did they genuinely love him at this moment? The way their eyes slowly peeked open was complete bliss for him, the irises that stared directly into his own with blown-out pupils—love.

He felt his sloppy movements speeding up, all while his body became sore from the extended movements, and all while this happened he felt the drool collect on the edge of his lips, dripping down his chin to their shirt, wetting the wrinkled fabrics. It didn't matter how ruined it would get, Viktor made a mental note to give them an even better shirt. Nevertheless, a knot coiled itself within his gut, curling around his navel and shooting a cramp up his spine in an almost pleasurable manner.

His bottom lip caught itself in between his incisors, muffling a forthcoming moan. "Are you—" a choked moan. "Are you clos—close? Please—" There was borderline whimpering in tone and he could not help but feel embarrassed for it, but the trembling person below made him feel a little better about his childish worries. They nodded without speaking, staring at him through thick eyelashes. They were gorgeous.

Viktor smiled, and it met his eyes. "So am I."

It was blissful, for him, at least—everything seemed perfect and in order as Viktor's right hand clasped around the side of their waist, squeezing the soft, malleable flesh: pliant. His breathing picked up, as did theirs, but he was determined to stretch this out for as long as he allowed himself to. As he closed his eyes tightly, Viktor felt his thumb dig into the dip between their stomach and hip bone, causing a red indentation on the soft skin. Through his pleasure, he could hear the loud sound of their moans below, as well as the sound of skin slapping against the skin; the squelch of genetic fluids mixed. Viktor's eyebrows furrowed together at the sound, his head falling against their chest, forehead pressed directly above their heart. Their clavicle, he presumed. They felt so good, he didn't want to stop, but he was so close.

"Viktor—" they cried out, suddenly, "I'm g—going—" there was a loud, rueful cry, followed by a high-pitched whimper. He could feel them clench around his dick, and then they had come. This sent him over the edge. Viktor lifted his head weakly and pressed his lips against their own, his saliva smearing all over their mouth and cheeks. He moaned into their mouth, pressing his hips forward one more time as his hand clenched their skin, surely hard enough to leave a bruise. He emptied inside of them, the muscles in his thighs twitching and convulsing, his dick soon going limp thereafter.

For a moment, Viktor caught his breath, chest heaving with laboured breaths. Tears pricked his vision when he opened his eyes, and the slobber dripped from his lips. His legs felt as if they were stuck in mud, but how did they feel? As he lifted himself, Viktor stared down at the person below him, completely covered in the afterglow. I came inside, that was an accident, he thought, but they looked so cute like that.

Much like before, Viktor felt a knot form in the middle of his throat, Adam's apple bobbing with each calculated swallow and breath.

Viktor felt breathless, but he felt as if that was to be expected. He stared down below at the barely visible person he had claimed just a few moments prior; his vision betraying him. He rests his forehead against theirs, a promise of devotion. "What can I do to make you love me?"

"Let me go," they whispered in a soft croon.

"You know I cannot afford to do that. You're mine."