#which i understand. it maybe is a flawed system

[homerjacksons]

Oh my GOD I am watching the first series of Criminal Justice and it’s so frustrating how naive this guy is 💀

[shellforbrains]

the idea of Stolas publicly humiliating Blitzø in Apology Tour needs, needs, NEEDS to be looked at through the lens of their class difference.

(this is an idea that's been floating around twitter. that stolas is going full diss track in the scene the above screencap is from.

and weirdly enough, there's been some people PRAISING or DEFENDING the idea.

so i did a thread about it on twitter & decided to post it here too bc why not. slightly edited of course bc i made typos in the original lmao.)

first off: i am of the belief that one of the big reasons that Full Moon goes badly is bc stolas is off his meds.

i think that both stolas & blitzø will share some blame for the conversation spiraling out, but i think the main underlying reason that this happens is bc stolas is off his meds & not communicating his point properly.

second: i think that if blitzø DOES cross some sort of line in FM & ends up really hurting stolas, stolas is obviously within his rights to be hurt & feel bad about that shit. and especially bc he's going through his second adolescence & feeling a lot of these intense & big feelings for the first time.

him lashing out in some way or being a little petty could be in somewhat understandable. he's not perfect & has flaws just like everyone else.

HOWEVER. i do not think stolas lashing out after FM or going so far as to PUBLICLY HUMILIATE blitzø is what will happen. doing something like this would kinda be major steps backwards in stolas' character growth.

he has done a lot of work on himself over the 1st half of season 2 but he still has a long ways to go, ESPECIALLY in regards to how he treats imps as a whole.

stolas, a very powerful and influential prince of hell showing up to publicly humiliate blitzø, an imp at the bottom of hell's class system, would be... very questionable at best. and potentially dangerous for blitzø at worst.

regardless of how hurt stolas could potentially be & what big feelings he's experiencing for the first time in his second adolescence, the position & privilege he still currently holds are things that always needs to be considered. especially since a huge part of his character arc is that he's starting to REALIZE the extent of that class divide & how he unintentionally took advantage of that with the Full Moon Deal.

i REALLY do not think that stolas will actually belt out a blitzø diss track. i think that he will be using this opportunity to attempt to communicate properly what he WANTED to say in FM but couldn't bc their conversation spiraled.

but i am still writing this to try to get people to look at this from an alternate perspective.

i love stolas. i relate to him so much & i don't want to make it seem like i don't think he's allowed to be imperfect or hurt by things. i am merely REMINDING anyone that reads this that the class difference between stolas & blitzø currently still plays a large part in A LOT of aspects of their relationship.

publicly humiliating blitzø with the influence he has would NOT be a girlboss moment. it would carry a LOT of weight on how blitzø & his company could be seen & maybe even have an effect on their livelihood.

which is exactly what stolas wanted to AVOID by giving blitzø the crystal in the first place.

he is giving the crystal so that I.M.P can keep going & growing, as well as trying to put blitzø & himself on ever-so-slightly more even footing. this idea of publicly humiliating blitzø would be the exact OPPOSITE of that.

[bonebabbles]

Ivypool's Heart: Finished

Just completed reading the new super edition! I'm pleasantly surprised by this one. Overall, this was a very good book, MUCH better than the past 3 which were some of the most boring and unnecessary entries to the entire franchise.

If you were on the fence about this one, I'd recommend it. Just take this warning; it does the Warrior Cats thing where it harps pretty strong on parenthood and nuclear families being a borderline essential part of life, including a ton of bashing on how uniquely horrible this makes the Sisters.

If you can get past that, it's a pretty solid story about grief that makes some really fun additions to the WC lore, including the wildcats, StormClan, and a broad expansion to the afterlife system.

Meandering thoughts below the cut;

One of IPH's biggest flaws is pacing, but it's not nearly as bad as the past 3 SEs.

Not to mention, this is a pretty small SE. If you're ever bored, it won't last long.

Before the book introduces the Wildcats, it REALLY meanders. It'll pick up, but you will have to wade through relatively uninteresting scenes of the cats traveling and talking about their feelings unprompted.

A lot of "quicktime events" happen out of nowhere to fill pages with cats running away from random bullshit.

There's a horse carriage, an apple picker, dogs, weasels, foxes, a storm, traffic, humans, boats, sandwhiches. It's endless. My eyes glazed over during most of these scenes.

I know a lot of people were dreading Ivypool being nasty and unreasonable during this book, but honestly? I was hoping for it and didn't really receive it.

I find her most compelling when she's holding a grudge, acting on her anger, and generally working through messy issues. But aside from her just thinking about being annoyed or angry, she's really not snappy at all.

I feel like there could have been a lot more interesting and organic conflict between Icewing, Dovewing, and Ivypool's personalities instead of boring Quicktime Events. In fact, I felt like Icewing and Dovewing were kind of underutilized.

The conversations often feel quite stiff, especially in the first half. Everyone is very understanding of each other, respect boundaries and knows not to push too far, resolve their personal issues very easily, etc. It's kinda... unnatural.

Personally, I found that disappointing because I WANTED to see the cats actually process their grief over the course of the book. Watch them act out, maybe get in an fight or two and resolve it for the sake of the mission, have them come to a greater understanding of each other, etc.

Because Icewing and Dovewing are both so motherly and gentle and we're in Ivypool's POV, we don't really get to see them process their grief because of that.

They're not TOTALLY neglected though! I just... wanted more from this group.

However. I wanted LESS Rootspring.

I understand he's there to process the loss of Bristlefrost with Ivypool but god, every time he was on screen I wanted to push him aside and talk to Icewing lmao.

Stop trying to sell me "cool, mellowed from grief" Rootspring. He's a silly little hyperactive man and you will never be able to convince me otherwise.

As a silly little hyperactive semi-manthing myself, it would have been a lot more cathartic to see a clown like me going through grief. Not to mention just generally make for better chemistry with the group.

Between Ice and Dove who are already quite chill as characters, Whistle could have used someone more goofy to bounce off of.

I REALLY didn't like the whole implication that Rootspring is going to move on from Bristlefrost and "find a mother" for the kittens he wants so badly, though.

Erins PLEASE remember that adoption exists. He does not need a wife to be a dad. I'm beaming myself directly into your brains and telepathy-ing directions to the nearest cat adoption agency

aaaaaand on that note.... yeah. I did not like the way that this book leaned so hard on the whole "nuclear family" dynamic. Ivypool has had like two major interactions with her husband and one JUST happened in this book.

It especially bugged me that they leaned into Ivypool having been a very active mother, when we saw very little of that in the ACTUAL book. It wasn't even mentioned that Fernsong was allegedly the primary parent of the kittens when they were young.

But... I was able to look past it and just accept the book in a vacuum. There's a lot of good here.

Like the wildcats.

While I'm still wary of these being Scottish Wildcats and reserve my misgivings about the misuse of species that are very unlike domestic cats... I LOOOOVEEE the culture they've set up for them

I LOVEE the way that individual spirits reach out to the kits, guiding them through life

I LOVE the connection to StormClan

I LOVE their idea of the elements and general spirituality

And I LOVED the fact that a big part of Ivypool coming to terms with her grief was the expansion of her worldview. The way that she realized the religion she was raised with is quite small, and that there is an immense beauty in coming to understand other cultures, accept their advice, and see the world as they do.

I just wish the book had been able to tie that to a flaw that Ivypool has expressed since her very introduction back in OotS-- that she's smallminded.

It would have been a FANTASTIC way to really tackle and address that flaw, and pay off literal decades of set up. I really wish she had been messier in this book because of that!

But, digressing.

I'm over the moon that the team's actually playing with the series' spirituality! After such a long time of them outright avoiding some of the weirder elements in the series, like Rock and Midnight, it's exciting that they're finding some freedom in making new magic lore for themselves.

Hopefully, in the next few super editions, we'll be able to get some more insight to StormClan and the Wildcats.

The book really hits its stride in the second half because of this, and the ending chapters are actually fantastic. Some of the best stuff that's come out of the series (on purpose) in a loooong time.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

why i love aziraphale and why i find his character so heartbreaking

So I made a post on why I relate to Crowley and I adore him, obviously. I think a few you misunderstood what I meant there, though (which is understandable, I was a bit incoherent but that is inevitable on this blog). I wasn't saying Aziraphale didn't care about Crowley or was horrible to him, rather the opposite.

What I was saying was maybe Crowley felt unloved against his better judgement, because he knows he is loved by Aziraphale, but maybe everything he has been through has started to chip away at that knowledge. It's happened to me, I'm sure it's happened to a few of you. You are assured that you are loved, you can see them doing things for you, but you feel unloved. Maybe because of the other people who don't love you. Maybe because... you don't love yourself.

But I definitely wasn't putting down Aziraphale, who is a beautiful character. I adore him. I love how every single second, all his emotions are on his face. That's actually how I realised they'd switched bodies--in heaven, 'Aziraphale' had a cool, dismissive look on his face. That could only be Crowley, I knew, because Crowley is a bit better (not a lot, not around Azi of course) at masking his emotions.

That's what's so beautiful about Azi, we can just see how much he feels, how much he adores Crowley, how much hope he had, how much faith in Heaven, how much determination to do the right thing. How determined he is to keep Crowley safe, to make Crowley smile and laugh, and how much it kills him every time he has to push Crowley away for both of their sakes, or he thinks he has to. You both want to protect that optimism and faith, and also shake him and tell him the truth. But how do we know better than him, a 6000 year old angel? There's so much that we don't know, that may have happened behind the scenes, that's orchestrating his decisions.

Some of you are certain that there is more, that he doesn't still believe that what Heaven offers is genuine, because how could he? I'm also sure that there is more, but can I also offer an alternate idea? Even if there wasn't more, maybe he isn't to blame if he did continue to believe in Heaven's goodness.

We've been in toxic relationships. With friends, partners, family. I know how hard it is to accept that something you love is not worthy of that love. Something you admired is something flawed. Something you would do anything to keep is something you need to push away.

The worst of all, of course, is that time, somewhere in our childhood or teens or adulthood, when a lot of us realise our parent or parents are not heroes. That we don't agree with them. That they were wrong about a lot of things. Because they taught us everything, they were our guides, how could they be wrong? And if we can't believe in them, then what are we supposed to believe in?

Maybe Aziraphale is going through that journey, over all those millennia. Some of us are forced to realise it before we even turn ten, some of us haven't realised it yet, some of us may not ever or may not need to.

Maybe Aziraphale is just a child of God, realising that Heaven, his technical family, is not the Good that not only they but the entire world believes them to be. Everyone says Heaven is good, including a lot of Hell, including a lot of humankind, it's just given. What is Heavenly is good. And Aziraphale wants to be good.

But he's going through that painful journey of realising that good may not be what he was taught, that good comes in many shades and tints and hues. And we can see him do it, we can see him defy Heaven and God, for Crowley or for humans or for himself. He's doing it, and we need to see how it isn't easy for him. Having your entire system of belief deconstructed is painful and awful. And if you were wrong once, how do you know you won't be the next time?

It's hard enough for Crowley, torn between whether he was unworthy or whether Heaven was wrong. Imagine the tumult that Aziraphale goes through, because if Heaven accepts him and Heaven isn't always good, does that mean Aziraphale has been doing it all wrong all his life?

He's going through something that we all go through, and is every bit as relatable as Crowley is. I love them both so much. I'm so glad that there's a third season, to see how that arc closes, to see if maybe they find the answers we're all looking for.

@adverbian and @howmanyholesinswisscheese, I hope this helps? Again, I haven't watched season 2 yet and have a horrible memory since I've been watching season 1 heavily medicated, so this is just from what I know and can tell and headcanon, perhaps.

[abattre]

It's actually so disappointing that Naruto's narrative took the route that it did. Kishimoto created an incredibly interesting world and premise, and ruined it by having everything amount to a shallow message of forgiveness that undermines almost every meaningful element in the story. And it's like,, I want to appreciate the world outside of the plot, but the moral framing of the story makes it virtually impossible because of how disingenuous it is. It completely undermines the audience's understanding of the tragedy and horror of the world so that Naruto becoming Hokage and being the most powerful person in the world by the end doesn't come across as distasteful as it actually is.

Like it's made abundantly clear throughout the story that the village system, and Shinobi society as a whole, is incredibly flawed. Kishimoto goes out of his way to show us that Konoha's council is made up of objectively horrible people. We see first hand how the council's short-sighted ideas of what 'protecting the village' means results in devastating tragedy for people both in Konoha and outside of it. It's clear in how Danzo and the rest of the council act that their atrocious behaviour is them just blatantly abusing their power to maintain their authority. The council has no remorse in anything they do; human experimentation, genocide, slavery, and blatant exploitation is all fair game to them if it preserves their status quo. And instead of maybe, like, addressing Konoha's skewed morality in a sensible way and setting the village up for reform, the narrative just tries forcing the audience to perceive Konoha's genuinely heinous actions as necessities. Which, you know, will work when you're like 8, but once you've grown up and developed some reading comprehension and critical thinking,,, it just feels annoyingly manipulative.

At its core, Naruto is a story that attempts to deconstruct morality. Like this is abundantly clear in how Kishimoto is constantly paralleling the dichotomy of good and evil literally every chance he gets. In the end though, this dichotomy just doesn't work in the context of the Naruto story because the narrative framing of the village being the good guys is just hysterically ridiculous. Konoha is an awful place, that does awful things, and is run by awful people that refuse to change anything because it benefits them for the village to remain awful forever. To anyone with a developed sense of media literacy the village cannot in any way be framed as morally good, so when the story resolves itself with Naruto becoming next in line to govern Konoha under the same unchanging authoritarian regime, with the same council supporting him because of his sheer physical prowess and complete dedication to their twisted ideology,,, it's honestly just an incredibly underwhelming conclusion to a story that made itself out to be more profound than it actually is.

If I had to guess, I imagine Kishimoto just didn't think through how negatively the world he created would reflect on the plot. Ultimately though, you can't write a moral story that's so deeply entrenched in real world social inequity and decide halfway through that because you don't know how to fix these things your story's going to have to be about how they're actually okay to be doing and perpetuating,,, like that is awful and also a terrible lesson to impart on an audience of children. With how serious the issues are in Shinobi society, trying to resolve things with the power of friendship was always going to fall flat. These broad scale injustices can't be brushed aside in that way without undermining their severity and diminishing the understandable impact they had on the characters that experienced such extreme oppression. That's essentially the trap that Naruto's conclusion falls into though, and so the story just ends up feeling incomplete and unfulfilling because none of the issues brought up are actually addressed or discussed with the gravity they deserve.

[bobbile-blog]

Not sure if anyone’s said this yet but now that we have Laterano events plural I’m fascinated by their (imo) very deliberate choice of protagonists, and there are almost a couple of layers of narrative going on there. I struggle a little figuring out how to get this into words but specifically I think they’re chosen to be people who can carry a narrative without contradicting the orthodox morals of the church. There’s a LOT of vaguely anti-authoritarian rambling below the cut so please kindly bear with me and my English major brain.

I can’t really start there though. One of the reasons this is so brain hurty is how deeply it’s woven into the storyline, so to start, I have to verbalize how Laterano and Arknights writing more generally is different from other, similar settings. Because like, I hear the words “morally negative church in a grimdark setting” and my brain immediately shuts off. Come on, that’s so far beyond low-hanging fruit, if you’ve seen any grimdark setting ever you know exactly what that looks like. And sure, it was fine the first two or three times you saw it, depending on your tolerance for that kinda thing, but it gets boring quick and even when it was new it was kinda uninteresting story-wise. “Religion is always fake because it inspires hope which means everyone who takes meaning from it is either a corrupt grifter or naive and misled” isn’t just edgy nonsense, it’s also basically useless as an actual critique. It tells you absolutely nothing except how to tune out a particular kind of story, and a story that tries to get you to hear less is doing its job wrong.

So, Arknights does something different. Instead of denying the premise of the church entirely, it actually takes it at its word. Laterano is, in almost every definition of the word, a paradise. It is basically unmatched in terms of actual quality of life, with its only competitors being the Durin cities and maybe Aegir, and is worlds apart from now much the rest of Terra sucks. More than that, though, the paradise is specifically tailored to the worldview of a religion with a strong central authority - when I say it takes it at its word, I mean the authoritarian bits too. Laterano is a city that lives in perfect order and peace because everyone follows the law perfectly and they all understand each other and never fight. Empathy is really important for this, as it allows for a believable amount of superhuman societal order. Laterano has very little crime, political drama, or quarrels in general. It’s the promises of a strict higher authority actually taken at face value: everyone follows the rules and that means they have effectively unfettered freedom, because they don’t want to break the rules and therefore they can do anything they want.

Laterano is specifically written to be a believable paradise in a setting that has none, so that when the story then turns around and criticizes that setting, it has significantly more weight. Even when the promises of paradise are taken at face value, there are still issues that cannot be addressed because the system is inherently flawed even in the imaginary scenario where it works. Even worse, the problems that poke holes in the imaginary perfect scenario are the same problems that they face in the real world, like “how do you deal with the interpretation of scriptures” and “hey there’s this racism thing I keep hearing about should we be worried about that or what”. Because of the way this imaginary perfect system works, we then look back on our real world in a new light and understand it a little better. It’s good critique.

Okay so how did we get here and what does this have to do with the protagonists? Well, this starts with Fiametta in Guide Ahead, because she’s a really weird protagonist. This is a cold take at this point but despite being the character on the front of the box, she has very little to actually do with the central conflict of the event. Most of the conflict is handled by Ezell first and Andoain second, and Fiametta mostly putters around putting holes in people until the finale where Andoain receives the answer he’s been looking for, he turns to explain it to the world, and he runs into the only person in the whole of Laterano who does not care about his motivations or his revelation. Her role, in other words, is to replace the climax of Andoain’s story with her own, and in doing so she makes it much harder to actually get a resolution and a meaning out of the story (this should not be taken as a criticism of her character, let me cook). Guide Ahead’s ending is hazy, with only small piecemeal resolutions to its conflicts, and for the longest time that was just the way the event was written and it stood on its own.

But now, Hortus de Escapismo is out and the monkey brain see patterns. Specifically, with the choice of protagonists. Because Executor is definitely different from Fiametta as a protagonist, but there’s one particularly important connection between the two, and that’s that as I mentioned in the beginning, they allow for stories don’t contradict orthodox morality. Fiametta we went over, as she’s uninterested in any of Andoain’s morality and just wants him dead. Executor, though, is purely focused on his mission and views the world through that lens. He only wants to achieve his objective, and while helping the needy is in line with the stated objectives of the church and he does do so when able, it’s secondary to his assigned task. He does change as he gets further into the story, and we’re not gonna ignore that, but we’ll be back to it later. What I mean is more that he is designed as a person who is able to lead a story that doesn’t contradict with the morals of Laterano. He sees the injustice and suffering around him, but that’s not his job, so he doesn’t need to solve it to have a complete story with a happy ending.

This is where it really gets complicated, so I apologize if I don’t explain this very well. I see this as us dealing with multiple layers of fiction: the events of the story, the perspective of the church, and our perspective as readers. Back to the first point - authoritarian institutions almost always use stories to sell people on their brand of order. Simple stories, simple enough that even calling them myths seems like overselling it a little, your “Saint George slays a dragon” kinda thing. This is the point of the second layer, the perspective of the church. I don’t really have an in-world justification for this layer - maybe you could make the argument that it has to do with Law’s perspective on things, but I don’t totally buy that - I think it’s more in a weird narrative transition space for people who don’t read very carefully. Regardless, Fiametta and Executor’s shared indifference to the questionable circumstances surrounding them is designed to let them tell a story to prop up the existing order. Their protagonist status and their missions are specifically constructed to allow them to ignore the suffering around them, and as such ignore the larger questions that might poke holes in the larger order. They’re both playing out the story of Saint George, where they go and find a bad guy and kill them and that’s all there is to it. The story is designed and told specifically for that “that’s all there is to it”.

But, as we said earlier, this is a good critique, and as such it intentionally undercuts this story with the third layer: what we actually see as readers. We are shown the suffering and the injustice, and then get to see our protagonists ignoring that to pursue their goals. This is what gives Guide Ahead’s ending its unique texture, which sets it apart from every other event with a vaguely unresolved ending. We have seen the actual issues with Laterano, and also watched our protagonist explicitly ignore them in favor of her own story. It’s unsatisfying in a way that only really makes sense to me if we as the readers have an understanding of intentional authorship. Whether it be Yvangelista XI or Law or The Actual Real Life Pope, there are issues here that we want to see a resolution to but people are choosing not to address them. Again, it’s good critique. Not only does it push the reader to unpack and understand the actual real-world technique, but it also helps blunt it. You have just seen a plot and protagonist ring uncharacteristically hollow. You then look around to see why that is, and you realize there are many things that should have been resolved that weren’t. The next time you see a story resolve with that same hollow-ness, you know where to look. Surprise! Harry Potter was propaganda the whole time. It’s okay, it was never good, you were just twelve.

I guess the last thing is where we go from here, because Executor’s story breaks this mold somewhat. In Hortus de Escapismo, he has to deal with a mission that isn’t actually bounded by his normal rules, and because of that he actually does have leeway to help the people around him. He starts as someone who is totally mission-focused, but by the end of the event he’s done a total 180 and is blocking Oren’s attack, which makes the mission harder but helps the non-mission-critical civilians of the monastery. He breaks from the rigid thinking of “kill the bad guy and that’s all there is do it”, and gives his attention to the people he isn’t supposed to see. I think this is an indication of the direction we’re going to be headed in the future with Laterano events. The events aren’t going to get better - they’re going to keep being just as morally murky and complicated as in the past - but the characters are going to get better at handling it, and when they do, they’re going to actually start to change things for the better.

Goddamn that was a lot of writing for 1 AM. I still have a. Lot of thoughts on this event with stuff like empathy and Lemuen and Federico being an autistic icon(my beloved) but I’m going to leave things there, I think, because if I write for any longer my phone is going to crash when I try to post this. Anyway if you actually made it to the end thanks for listening to me rambling and I hope that made sense. Cheers.

[alphacentaurinebula]

I need to talk about the Edinburgh minisode, because I have SO. MANY. THOUGHTS.

It's sort of an afterthought minisode in some ways. Before the Beginning gives us so much giddy joy (despite the ominous foreshadowing). 1941 gives us all the giddy romance. Job gives us so much insight into both characters histories and how they came to be who they are and work together...

The Resurrectionists gives us a morality play, basically, but also gives us Crowley high (and HIGH) on laudanum and plenty of bright shiny bits...

...so the morality side maybe doesn't get as much focus.

Which is a shame. Because the Edinburgh episode demonstrates perfectly the flaw in Aziraphale's understanding of the world that leads to him going to heaven.

When we start out in 1827, we are introduced to grave robbing and Aziraphale immediately decides that it is Bad (a sin). He does all he can to prevent the young woman he meets and likes from doing Bad (sinning), assumably to try to pave her way into Heaven. And Crowley tries to help her with her grave robbing, much to Aziraphale's chagrin.

Grave Robbing = Bad; Crowley supports Grave Robbing; Crowley=Bad

When they meet Mr Surgeon, and Crowley starts to ask some pointed questions meant to poke holes in Aziraphale's certainty, he flips entirely the other way, without noticing any of the other moral greyness (like the fact that Mr Surgeon would never take the risks or do the dirty work himself. Which is pretty important, since we learn in Edinburgh in the present that Mr Surgeon was so convinced of his own superiority and importance later on in his life that he started murdering people (probably "unfortunates" like Elspeth) when he couldn't get corpses fast enough).

Grave Robbing = Good; Crowley supports Grave Robbing; Crowley = Good

When he is then confronted with the idea of selling Wee Morag's body, and Crowley points out it is different when it's someone you know, Aziraphale is basically frozen in indecision. He doesn't know what the good thing is anymore.

He spouts the party line about the fact that starting off poor somehow gives Elspeth an advantage when it comes to Heaven, but is unable to explain why or how, not even to himself. And when he's put on the spot as Elspeth tries to kill herself, he doesn't have any arguments to offer.

CROWLEY: Say something! That... convinces her that poverty is ineffably wonderful and that life is worth living. Go on!

But despite all the moral ambiguity present throughout the episode, Aziraphale still sees everything as black and white. First, grave robbing is bad, then it is good. First, Crowley is bad (when he has the opposite position to Aziraphale), then he is good (when he has the same position). Aziraphale never understands Crowley's constant questions are a challenge to the very idea that there IS a 'good' in this situation. He never examines or questions the complex systems of class and sexism and capitalism which force Elspeth to this desperate recourse, or the laws which prevent Mr Surgeon from accessing bodies for research via legal means.

He doesn't see the systemic injustic. He just sees individual moral actors making either good or bad choices.

(and just to deviate slightly from the Edinburgh minisode -- while he says he understands that sometimes things are not just black or white but also grey, in 1941 - I don't actually think his grey and Crowley's grey mean the same thing. The 'greyest' thing that Aziraphale does in 1941 is help a showgirls theatre and hide information from Hell - this is not the same thing as truly seeing that some situations simply don't have a Right Thing to do, or understanding that systems shape and control individuals' decisions, so the idea that humans all have the same ability to choose Right is an illusion.

AZIRAPHALE: You know, they cannot be truly holy unless they also get the opportunity to be wicked.

So it is no wonder at all that when the Metatron offers him the opportunity to run Heaven, he doesn't see a broken institution or systemic oppression/injustice, but rather a series of bad actors preventing Heaven from achieving the Goodness it is meant to represent.

[transfaguette]

I ask this in good faith, but how is it that so many transmascs hate the idea of (trans inclusive) radical feminism so much? All I know it does is liberate everyone from the evils caused by cis men and the patriarchy.

Well first I would say this isn't an opinion unique to transmascs, but thats the circle I orbit so I understand where that perception comes from.

The problem is that you really can't excise the problematic elements of TERFism simply by removing the overtly transphobic parts.

Radical feminism, both trans exclusive and "inclusive" hinge on the idea of Men (sometimes cis, sometimes not) are perpetrators and Women (and sometimes, vaguely, some* non-women)are victims. Putting aside the individual capability to cause harm which is easy enough to debunk, even on a societal level this is not telling the whole story. The Patriarchy is a system of societal control and allotment of power, and it aims to control everyone, men included. Most men, all but the most powerful in society, which is capitalist, christian cishetero white men, have the patriarchy weaponized against them!

"Cis men" as a class, as individuals, don't cause evil. They are just human beings. Human beings with equal capability to love and nurture and fight for what is right. Which is the other problem with radfeminism, is that it seeks to strip away this humanity from the people around you, and isolate you. and like...what is a cis man, anyway? Like I know the answer seems obvious, but at what point does "cis man" end and "nonbinary person" or "trans person" begin? What elements of cis-manhood cause evil? Where does that "evil" go when someone transitions or no longer identifies as a cis man?

This is, I think, the fundamental problem of "trans inclusive" radical feminism. In continuing to divide the world into Evil Men and Good Women, you STILL impose a system of gender essentialism in a way that does not coalesce with the ideas of queer liberation. A nonbinary person can be a cis man one day, come out as nonbinary and change nothing else about their life from that point. What then? Are they no longer evil? Were they ever evil? How do you even being to decide that without just using the same trans exclusive rhetoric you're supposedly fixing, anyway? And I'm not even getting into the impact this has on trans men, because we are put in this position of being a marginalized gender and victims of misogyny but also placed in this position of privilege due to being men that is not accurate to reality. And sure, maybe you can remedy that by always specifying cis men, but many TIRFs don't see that as a flaw of the ideology, anyway. They Do think trans men are gender traitors and Do think we inherit some sort of evil power the moment we become men.

And there is much, much more to be said on the topic of radical feminism and its pitfalls. These are just the broad points. The dehumanization of Cis Men as a class is not simpatico with queer liberation and it just never will be. It is a good question worth asking, because it can seem good on the surface unless you know what to look for.

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

BTS Ideal Type Reading

I was pulled to this one, as these guys have a bit more experience in the live department, than our 4th gen groups, so I was curious to see what they get for this.

Jin (The Star/Victory) Umm, does he want to date a celebrity!? He never gave me that vibe lol But these cards give me that. He would want someone successful, that knows their worth and their potential, a shining star in their own right. He wants someone confident, a believer. Someone who believes in themselves and makes things happen. Maybe he won't want a celebrity, just someone who is able to build their own success, by their own terms. Who would want someone who is optimistic and hopeful, which makes sense since he is like that as well, so someone a bit similar to his mindset. Wonder what he would get as a boyfriend whenever I feel like getting to that.

Suga (Queen of Wands/Deceit) Umm, what is this, why did I feel the deceit card would pop up eventually for someone. I did also see the knight of wands popping up too. He wants someone fiesty and passionate, someone fun, with a lot of energy. Seriously Yoongi, why is deceit an ideal type? He likes someone with a bit of an edge. I am getting that it is more about the image of the card, than the word on it, the person seems a bit battered, a little hardened. I am seeing all the red, so definitely someone passionate with a lot of fire, they run on that, so he may be more into people with strong fire placements. I think he would want someone flawed. Oh man, this is so Pisces energy here

RM (The Tower/Door to Personal Healing and Happiness) It seems he may want someone who is willing to change things, or shake things up to find happiness, to restructure their whole set system, maybe to break traditions or the status quo in a sense. He wouldn't want someone to stay stuck in a system they don't like and does nothing to change it. The way to happiness is to create changes. This is kind of specific, so not sure this had to with a relationship in the past or now, but not much else here.

Jhope (King of Swords/Storm Warning) Okay, umm this seems more about him, than an ideal type, like he is the KOS's, he is an Aquarius. This is giving me, I don't want to step into that sh**. He knows the mess he can get into. It is like he is clear of mind and thought. In relationships he may be in a fog, or things just aren't as clear. It is like he is looking away from that mess. You see how I have the cards is the man in the deck is looking away from the storm, he wants no part of it. So, he doesn't have an ideal type. He may not want to be in a relationship at all right now. I just keep getting mess and messy. It is like he knows his mind is clear and sharp when he is not involved in that, strong Aquarius energy showing up here.

V (King of Pentacles/Fourth Chakra Archangel Raphael) Lol, what this is giving me. He also has no ideal type, this is his energy, this gives me, I am focusing on my coin and my money, and I love myself too much to focus on a relationship. That KOP's is him. He is focused on building his career, working on his goals. The fourth Chakra Archangel Raphael is about self-love and acceptance, so it gives me he is fine alone. But the fourth chakra is about love and compassion, it could indicate he is in a place to receive love, but with that KOP's energy, it seems he is focused on the bag. He is a Cap, so it makes sense. It is like he rather focus on himself first, before receiving love, or it isn't a high priority for him at the moment.

Jimin (4 of Pentacles/Cornucopia) He wants someone who preserves themselves and has self-respect, don't understand how that came to me from these cards, but okay. He wants someone who values themselves and knows their worth. He wants someone who is able to count their blessing, someone abundant. I wouldn't say abundant as in rich, but maybe within. They just see the good in things and life and count their blessings for any little thing. He would want someone more reserved and traditional as well. He wouldn't want someone who wants loads of money, like they would be happy with what they have. And they protect what is their's.

Jungkook (The Lovers/ Caring Connections) Lol this boy, he is such a romantic, straight up. He wants the love, the heat, the intensity, it all. He wants a strong bond. Like you got two cards with couples on it, but I can see he wants both the passion and the heat, the pleasure, yup saying it, but he also wants the love, emotions and tenderness, so he would be very loving and passionate, this is not his boyfriend reading, but it popped up, so going with it. He doesn't have a specific ideal type to be honest, just someone who can bring this to him. I don't know, kind of seems healthy to me, but we'll see if anything pops up when I do his boyfriend reading, because I can see a hint of attachment, clingy issues here. But that is an opinion.

Okay, interesting messages coming through. This isn't as messy as the other groups I did, which makes sense, since they are older and more evolved.

[tobiasdrake]

Thinking about redemption yesterday got me thinking about fallen heroes today, and how rare it is to see a character initially painted as a hero be driven to heinousness for legitimate reasons.

Often times, if a hero goes bad, it's because of an external force corrupting their mind. Or it's a misunderstanding and they were secretly still good all along. Or they were just having a rough day and they'll be good again in five minutes.

We rarely see get to see heroes go sour purely on their own merits. Maybe because their values weren't so benign as they'd seemed when pushed to a natural conclusion. Maybe because they expected too much of themselves or of others. Or maybe personal experience taught them to believe something else.

Whatever the case, as often as writers will attempt to examine the transformative power of better angels, we rarely get to see the transformative power of worse devils.

Which brings me to....

Sayaka Miki is a character that holds a special place in my heart, not for overcoming her flaws but for being consumed by them. She's a cautionary tale into the perils of righteousness.

I need to preface this by bringing up that the characters of Madoka Magica are children. They're irrational, judgmental, ignorant of risk, and quick to throw themselves into horrible mistakes with absolute confidence. Because they're children. That's how this works. The villain of the series is a psychological predator who feeds on the impulsivity and poor judgment of youth, grooming them into self-destruction.

The entire system of Magical Girls exists to give these children enough rope to hang themselves with and then to kick the ladder out from under them. That is the plot, with Sayaka being the primary means by which the show demonstrates the complete journey from rope to ladder.

I just. I need you to understand that even at her worst, Sayaka is a victim of predatory incentives and calculated coercions meant to cultivate her worst traits while stripping her of hopes and dreams. To drown her in mistakes she could never take back. She didn't have the life experience to know better. That's why her predator targets children.

Sayaka's rope is woven from virtuous self-image. It's not immediately apparent when we meet her, but Sayaka's fatal flaw is ego. Her moral compass is wound extremely tight, and it's only later that we realize it's wound around her neck.

Like many children, Sayaka is trying on an identity moreso than expressing her inner self. She wants to be altruistic. She wants to be selfless. She wants to be a true hero. She wants to live by nothing more than high-minded ideals, expecting no reward for her efforts (but receiving it all the same).

She wants to be the kind of person that Mami was.

But she has no idea who Mami was. She wasn't there to see Mami fracture. To see her break down in vulnerability and express the isolating misery she lives in.

Sayaka didn't see that. She only saw how cool Mami looked when she was killing Witches. So when she tries on an identity, she's specifically trying on the identity of Mami - blissfully unaware that her interpretation of Mami was nothing but a mask. She is emulating the behavior of a victim already consumed by the predatory incentives she's accepting.

Sayaka was doomed from the moment she made her wish.

Once again, the show does a brilliant job of concealing this at first. Right off the bat, it's easy for Sayaka to be the hero. She saves both her BFFs Madoka and Hitomi from a Witch in her debut adventure, before being immediately thrust into a moral argument that's super easy for her to win.

This is what a hero looks like! Should we stand by and let monsters eat people YES/NO

Sayaka says no. Sayaka says letting monsters eat people is bad. Solid Bioware-level moral dilemma she's got here. Sayaka won +10 Paragon points for the choices she picked out of this conversation tree, lemme tell you!

Moments like this work to disguise what's going on here with Sayaka. Obviously Sayaka's making good choices and doing the right thing when the alternative is Kyoko going "Want me to break your crush's limbs so he needs you for life support?" That's awful, so since Sayaka's against it then that means she must be right. Right?

Kyoko is the devil. Sayaka is the paragon.

But this is a story about nuanced and complex people. Sayaka isn't that person. Sayaka likes the idea of being that person. She's being dishonest - With herself, with others around her, and with the universe.

She's trying on an identity, not fully understanding who she really is or what her limitations are.

Incidentally, so is Kyoko, which is what makes their Yin and Yang dichotomy so potent. Having never been tested like this before, Sayaka is more selfish than she truly understands - While Kyoko, damaged by trauma, is more selfless than she wants to believe.

The thing Sayaka doesn't quite grasp is that, to an extent, it's okay to be selfish. It's okay to want things for yourself. Again, the identity she's trying to live up to was a lie to begin with. She only saw the mask; Never the humanity underneath. So she fails to recognize her own humanity; Her own needs and wants and desires.

She imprisons her own mind in a cage of altruism.

Sayaka is warned multiple times against spending her wish on another person. But she doesn't understand the perils of it. She lacks the necessary perspective to grasp the level of sacrifice she's making. (Because she is a child. I cannot stress this point enough.)

When she makes her wish, Sayaka wants her sacrifice reciprocated. She wants to be rewarded. But she doesn't want to want that. She wants to be the selfless hero for Kyosuke. To silently grant him a miracle because it's the right thing to do for her friend. But she expects, without consciously thinking about it, that the universe will deliver her nice things because she is good.

But life doesn't work like that. It doesn't give you things you aren't willing to reach for. Sayaka said she just wanted him to be happy. She just wanted to help people. She just wanted to dedicate her life to virtue and altruism, with no wants or needs or desires of her own.

Kyoko was being cruel and unfeeling when she suggested crippling Kyosuke; She was trying to express a mask of selfishness, the same way Sayaka's been trying to express a mask of selflessness. But she wasn't the only person telling Sayaka that it was a mistake to do this. She's just the only person who said it after the fact.

So the universe calls her bluff. While Sayaka waits for her sacrifices to be rewarded, fracturing more and more from learning what those sacrifices truly entail, someone else claims her prize. The work gets harder, not just physically but emotionally. And she only gets what she asked for. Nothing more.

This is what a hero looks like. She wanted to be Mami.

Remind me. What was Mami's reward for her sacrifices?

Oh. Yeah. That's right.

The thing of it is, there is a reward for a Magical Girl's sacrifices. There is a prize you're meant to receive for the unjust hardships and self-destruction that you're volunteering to undertake.

It's the fucking wish.

That she, in her righteousness, gave away.

Sayaka's rope is woven from virtuous self-image. Her fatal flaw is ego. She was undone by arrogance expressed in ignorance, not of glory the way we often think of egotistic people, but of righteousness. She held herself to a standard no reasonable person could ever live up to, and it crushed her as it came crashing down.

And yet, she was a victim all the same. Because she was walked, hand-in-hand, to that pier by a predator. Children are meant to learn from their mistakes. Not to die for them.

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (8/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting, semi-edited

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 7.0

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: I hope you enjoy, I will add all the extra links later. Please please please let me know your thoughts you have no idea how much it helps me. Enjoy!

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10 years ago.

You have circled around Dionysus Lake at least three times, in a failed attempt to calm your nerves. In all honesty you aren’t sure why you’re so nervous, it was a simple tutoring session with your friend's brother. Yet, the hammering in your heart and the pressure around your neck was impossible to ignore.

You know this has nothing to do with you finding him attractive. You can find someone attractive but not be attracted to them. Hence Jungkook. You know it has nothing to do with the fact that his meeting place of choice was the one cafe that was slightly out of the budget you set aside for iced coffees on the weekday.

What you do know is that it has everything to do with the fact that this is something new. A little hiccup in your perfectly curated daily routine. From now on every Tuesday and Thursday you will be meeting up with Kim Namjoon at seven o’clock at Serendipity Cafe. Who by some miracle will hopefully have you understanding the PEMDAS rules that you’re hundred percent sure we’re taught wrong to you. No more will be your days in which you stay at HYBE U’s seven floor library, cranking down on research or polishing essays after math class. No more will be your days that you decide that maybe it was time for some me time, and enjoy a nice long relaxing bath with different bath salts, bath bombs, and candles in an attempt to relax your racing thoughts and aching muscles.

No, now you have to squeeze in a half an hour walk after your algebra class to give yourself a breather. So, you don’t have to face your friend's brother all frazzled and annoyed that you have successfully sat through a math class without understanding a thing. Really, your nerves are really due to the fact that you don’t want to seem incompetent; but is it your fault that you’ve had incompetent math teachers or lack of math teachers throughout your academic year? It’s not your fault they couldn’t explain complex terms in a simple form. Or that they took advantage of the system to get close to younger children. You were cheated out of a decent understanding of math because the academic system simply worked against you.

It’s a thought you have been turning over and over in your head since you woke up this morning. You’ve been trying out every other excuse in the book.

“I’m sorry they had us do flawed computer programs in middle school instead of actually teaching us something.”

“You see I couldn’t really do my math homework growing up because I had ballet class at four until eight.”

“I’m actually really smart I just don’t understand how the fuck I have to apply an exponent when there’s a parenthesis involved.”

All of these excuses were dumb. A mask for the actual truth. Math was uninteresting, impalpable. It stayed constant and lacked excitement because you couldn’t see the puzzles laid out before you. That, and sometimes you sneakily read a book in the back of the class or whispered about the next big boy band with your equally as boy crazed friends Shalimar and Ruth.

Still, after your third wrap around Dionysus lake, you’ve decided that if questioned you’d just come clean.

“I’m stupid and I absolutely have no idea why we have to have letters and numbers mingle with each other.”

Hopefully he'll appreciate your honesty and grow a soft spot for you. At least that’s what you hope for. And you keep hoping for as you steadily approach the large wooden doors of Serendipity. There’s still about ten minutes until seven, but you figured you’d get there a bit early to grab a good seat. One in a section that’s quiet but not too quiet because the last thing you want while you sip on your peppermint tea is to be consumed by your overwhelming thoughts while you wait for your tutor.

You approach the counter, gripping the leather strap of your purse, going over your order in case you stumble upon your words due to pressure.

“Welcome to Serendipity whe—oh hey you’re Kookie’s girl.” The man behind the counter says in awe. While you cringe at the fact that you’re being referred to as Jungkook’s girl. You remember the doe eyed man referring to the man now wearing a button down with what seems to be condoms printed all over it as Hobi. Though his nametag states that his name is Hoseok. You try not to dwell on it for too long because he’s looking at you curiously. Probably wondering why you haven’t greeted him back or placed your order.

You shake your head, circling your moon shaped bag back to the front of your body, attempting to hide your discomfort. “Oh, hi, um, Jungkook’s just a friend.” You swallow, while he smiles in acknowledgement.

“I see, things are complicated. I get that.” He brushes you off before turning to the iPad in front of him. Before you can counteract with a ‘no it’s actually very simple, we share classes and he’s unfortunately picked me to annoy.’ He speaks up and gets right to the point. “What can I get you cutie?” He finishes, looking at you through his bangs.

The heat in your body erupts. No guy has ever been this forward with you but you’re positive this is just part of his customer service training. If he ever had one. Either way he’s talking you up and making you feel seen, which you assume is a specialty of his and probably why the cafe is crowded with many young adults.

With a grin you say. “Just a hot mint chocolate latte.” You nod in assurance before opening up your purse and taking out your wallet. When you fish your card out and go to swipe it across the reader a hand stops you. Startled, you look up to find Hobi or Hoseok smiling wide at you.

“No need, it’s already paid for.” He takes his hand away and gives you a white buzzer instead.

You furrow your brows in confusion. How has your drink already been paid for when you’ve just entered? You aren’t complaining, you did just save some money, but that small amount of happiness doesn’t mean that you aren’t confused.

The cashier seems to read your confusion and he chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Namjoon paid for you earlier when he ordered his drink.”

“What?” You glance down at your phone to see the time. Did you get it wrong? The two of you agreed on seven, and you even confirmed it this morning through a quick text just to be sure. So, why does the analog clock on your phone read 6:55, and Namjoon has possibly already been waiting for you.

You curse under your breath and quickly put your wallet in your purse before turning around to look at the almost empty cafe. There’s only a couple of people occupying the circular tables. All of them fully immersed in their books or laptop screens. Namjoon is nowhere in sight. You look back at Hoseok—you’ve decided to refer to him as such since it’s what’s on his nametag—and he laughs at your confusion.

He lifts up a finger signaling up, “he’s on the second floor, got here about an hour ago.”

His statement doesn’t do anything but worsen the panic already coursing through your veins. Maybe you did misinterpret the time, still it wouldn’t make sense because wouldn’t he have texted you by now asking where you were?

“Um thank you…”

“Call me Hobi.” He waves a hand in front of your face. “Any friend or special friend of the boys gets the privilege to call me Hobi. Plus Hoseok—” He points to his nametag with a boney finger. “Sounds too serious.” He shrugs.

You nod your head. “Thank you Hobi.” You rush out the acknowledgement and turn around and speed walk to the industrial style spiral staircase.

It’s a dizzying journey up, but once you make it to the final step you spot the man that has your nerves at an all time high. He’s sitting in the far corner next to a floor to ceiling window. His back is hunched as he types away on his laptop. Today he’s ditched the beanie and you can see his dark brown hair. A few strands of his bangs sneak their way behind the thick rims of his black glasses. He’s wearing a simple gray long sleeve, with black sweatpants. He looks relaxed, the opposite of what you’re feeling because the thing you hate most in the world is keeping people waiting.

With quick steps you approach the table, halting when you get to the front of a chair. “I’m sorry, I thought we agreed on seven.” You rush out instead of a proper greeting. In a quick motion he lifts his head and takes off the earbuds inside his ears, and you feel like more of an idiot than before because of course he would be wearing noise canceling earbuds.

“Hey, you’re here. Did you order something? I told Hobi that I would just pay for what you wanted.” He grins and stands up, extending his hand for you in a handshake.

You put your hand in his and feel a shiver run down your spine when his cold one meets your clammy one. “Am I late?” You tilt your head to the side.

Namjoon shakes his head, and lets go of your hand before sitting down again. “No, you’re right on time. I just got here a bit early to get a head start on an essay due by the end of the week.” He reassures you, and finally you can let out the breath you had been holding in.

You feel calmer now. Relieved. You set down your stuff on an empty chair and take the seat directly in front of him. You place your white buzzer in front of you, tracing the circular ridges. Now, that you’re not in such a panicked state you can finally show your gratitude to his selfless actions. “Thank you for the drink, you didn’t have to pay for it.”

The busy man smiles and waves his hand in front of his face to brush you off. “It’s no big deal, Hobi gives me discounts anyway.”

“So, I’ve heard.” You whisper recalling the first night you met him a week ago. Since then, Jungkook snuck his brother’s phone number to you the next day at the library. He didn’t say anything, he just passed by you with a green drink from the only smoothie place on campus and a sticky note saying:

Text Namjoon, he’s forgetful. -JK

It took the whole day to muster up the courage but finally you sent a simple text regarding your name and the fact that his younger brother had been the one to sneak you his number. In case, he assumed you had gone through multiple deep dives on the internet to retrieve it. Thankfully, Namjoon didn’t question it and just replied with a simple greeting. Then the two of you got into a brief conversation that lasted about two days because you’re also forgetful and forgot to reply to his messages. Basically coordinating a plan further than the one you had discussed the first time you met.

It was strictly business. Yet, a part of you felt a little happy that you were meeting and talking to somebody new.

Just as you’re about to take out your small notebook and pen from your purse your buzzer comes to life, filling the spaces of silence in the air surrounding the two of you. Namjoon’s eyes tear away from his computer screen, and you’re about to stand up when he beats you to it. He quickly grabs a hold of the noisy device saying, “Don’t worry I got it,” and he disappears down the stairs.

You’re now sitting by yourself, wallowing in your over consuming thoughts. Most of them involve the story Jungkook told you about his very eventful weekend while the two of you were walking to your math lecture earlier today. Truly, it was so odd knowing that he had run into Taehyung at a club in the rich part of town. The two of them stayed together the entire night and even brought home two girls to Taehyung’s apartment. Thankfully, he didn’t share further than that, but he did share that he was in love. In which you rolled your eyes so hard it gave you vertigo.

In the few months that you have known the man. He has claimed that he has been in love with every single girl he’s slept with. Which surprisingly, given his flirty nature was not a lot. What was surprising to you was Taehyung being at the club. It’s not out of character for him, but Saturday nights were always spent at Jimin’s one bedroom apartment catching up on life, and binge watching One Piece. When his text message came through on Saturday evening saying that he wasn’t feeling very well and skipping out. You couldn’t help but feel a little sad because you hadn’t seen him in a while.

Taehyung was always out and about, chasing every new adventure he could grasp. He called it inspiration for his art, but you always knew there was another underlying reason. One he never cared to explain because in all honesty it only made sense to him. He was a tough book to get through. Sometimes it keeps you questioning why you even have a soft spot for it. Though, you suppose it is the backstory the two of you share. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit hurt knowing he had chosen to not ditch you but Jimin as well.

The night wasn’t a bust and you managed to finally make a significant breakthrough on the anime. Twenty episodes in one night was something that needed to be awarded. It did feel a bit awkward when it was just the two of you. It was as if there was an invisible ceiling slowly crushing you, because on Saturday for the first time ever the two of you found yourself stuck. Nothing to talk about. No updates on life, only the sound of the anime doing its best to fill the void of Taehyung not being there that the both of you unspokenly felt.

It made you question a lot of things. Like was it maybe time to finally part ways? A chilling thought that sent shivers down your spine and one you pushed so far into the back of your head. One you really don’t want to think about now, especially when you’re about to succumb yourself to a full extra hour of torture. Otherwise known as: College Algebra.

“Hobi says that if you take a picture of his latte art to tag him if you post it.” Namjoon voices, placing a small tray in front of your open notebook. A white mug with a beautiful Jack O'Lantern drawn in white foam decorates the top of your warm decaffeinated latte. It’s impressive, surely puts all those swans and hearts to shame.

“He’s a big fan of Halloween, and he always says that fall time means it's Halloween everyday.” Namjoon finishes with a chuckle, as he takes the seat in front of you again.

You laugh a little, fishing out your phone from the pocket of your jean jacket. “I can get behind that.” You say as you click on the camera app and snap a couple of pictures.

Unbeknownst to you, Namjoon is watching as you rearrange the contents on the table. To get the right aesthetic for your perfect picture. He can’t lie, it's a little endearing, seeing somebody so excited over latte art he has grown accustomed to seeing. It’s something he will definitely spill onto Hoseok before he leaves. His friend was crazy talented in many areas and he hates that instead of sharing all his passions out with the world. He’s stuck running Serendipity because his grandfather wanted the neighborhood's hub to stay in the Jung family. When he should be out in the world sharing his clothing designs with anyone who’s willing to listen.

Namjoon’s thoughts are interrupted by your extended hand, holding out your phone for him. “What’s his instagram?” You grin, and his eyes make their way to the small phone screen. A beautifully taken picture, showing off the spooky pumpkin with a caption reading,

Halloween should be all year round @--

Namjoon lets out an ‘ah’ before taking your phone and quickly typing out his friend's handle. He reads the caption again, double checking to see if he made any mistakes, Halloween should be all year round @uramyhope.

He nods in approval and hands you back your phone. Deep down he feels a surge of something foreign. He can’t necessarily put his finger on it but regarding Hoseok’s statement when he first met you last week, when he asked both his brother and him for your number. He feels a little strange, knowing that he’s basically given the two of you a way to start communicating outside of him and Jungkook. Knowing the aspiring designer, he won’t miss a beat, and that makes him feel a bit odd.

He shrugs it off though, pushes away the churning in his stomach, concluding that it was because he chose to consume caffeine so late in the evening. He looks back at his computer screen, while you type away on your phone. He continues to ignore it, saves the document on his computer two times before closing the lid. He pushes it aside, and clears his throat, catching your attention.

Quickly you lock your phone and stuff it into the pocket of your jacket. You look over at Namjoon, his hands clasped in front of him and a scowl prominent on his face. It resembled the same one he transformed into the first night you met him. When he coldly stated he was done with blind dating thanks to his mother and step brother. Though, this time it does feel less intense, probably due to the fact that he knows you’re just here to be his tutee and not his future wife.

Still, it lets you know that time was ticking and it was finally time to get down to business.

“How have you gone on this long without understanding the basic principles of algebra?”

Namjoon is serious. He means business and you’re about to pull out the hair from your scalp.

“Maybe because I never had a permanent math teacher, they’d all leave in the middle of the year.” You pout, crossing your arms in front of you and slumping down in your seat.

He lets out a sigh before sliding your notebook to his side of the table. The metal spiral scratching against the wooden surface, letting out an unpleasant noise making you cringe.

“That’s a good excuse.” He says, grabbing his red pen and making all sorts of marks along the paper. You don’t need to know what steps you got wrong while solving the math problem. You know exactly where you went wrong. It was the second you signed up for the class even if you didn’t have much of a choice.

You groan, throwing your head back. “It’s not an excuse. My eighth grade teacher left in the middle of the year because she got pregnant, my ninth grade teacher unfortunately was diagnosed with cancer. Then my tenth grade teacher was accused of being a pedophile so he was fired an—“

“Okay,” Namjoon cuts you off, setting down his pen on top of your notebook. “I understand, your school was just shitty at keeping teachers around.” He grins, placing the notebook in front of you again. “But did you ever do your math homework?” He tilts his head to the side in curiosity.

Unfortunately you’ve been caught. “No,” you whisper, dragging your fingernail down the spiral.

The sound he lets out tells you enough. He’s proven his point with the sarcastic hum that escapes his mouth. “In my defense I had dance practice everyday after school from two to four and the ballet from five to eight.” You add but it does little to prove your innocence. Instead, it makes you look guiltier or maybe not you but your parents because who would choose an extracurricular activity over academics. Especially when they knew their daughter was absolute shit at math. They did try though, but even the math tutor they hired back in high school could not get through to you.

“I see,” he puts a pensive hand on his chin leaning back. The look he gives you makes you feel small. You can’t tell if he’s judging your upbringing or the you now who can’t seem to understand the simple PEMDAS rules.

“Your problem isn’t even that bad. It’s easy to fix. You know what each operation does. You just get confused with the order along the way.” He leans forward, picking up the pen and pointing to the problem you just finished doing. “You know to do parenthesis first, but then you forget that parenthesis don’t really go away. That’s your first mistake.”

It’s like a lightbulb has suddenly flicked on inside your head as you watch him solve the problem while thoroughly explaining each step. Writing out every single step even if it was unnecessary, but it helps.

“So the answer should be seventeen and not twenty-two.” He finishes, and the puzzle slowly starts to connect itself before your eyes. The steps are laid out perfectly and neatly. The parenthesis stay until the equation is factored to the lowest it can go. And you’re about to jump across the table to give the man before you the biggest hug. He’s the only one who's been able to point out what you’ve done wrong your whole life and then explain it easily.

You lift your head up, wide eyed and say “oh, that makes sense.”

Namjoon laughs, almost as if he’s relieved but also disbelieved. You start to feel bad because for the past hour he’s been trying to explain to you the basic principles in every way possible. And it was only until he explained it to you in baby terms that you finally understood. You’re about to apologize, but instead you’re left stunned by his next words.

“I’m giving you homework for the next time we see each other on Thursday.” He hums, flipping to the next page. Your eye twitches a little at the thought of math homework. If you never did it while you were in school and getting graded for it, why would you do it now?

“Homework?”

He hums, and begins to write down a bunch of different math problems. He can sense that you’re about to fill him with different complaints, so he speaks up. “Do you want to pass math class?

“Yes, but do you really need to give me homework?”

“How many hours were you in dance class growing up?”

“I don’t remember like five hours, but what does that have to do with you giving me math homework.”

“What were you doing for five hours?” He lifts his head, handing you your notebook. You take it looking down at the ten perfectly curated algebra problems.

You want to throw up.

“Practicing.”

“Exactly, and how are you going to pass math?”

You huff, seeing exactly where his question was heading. Proving a point or whatever. Jungkook did mention his brother was a bit of a smart ass. Now you’re unfortunate enough to be at the receiving end.

With a grunt you close your notebook. “Fine, I'll do the homework.”

Namjoon smirks, tapping his ear, leaning in further into the table. “No, I want to hear you say it please.”

You stuff your small spiral notebook into your purse, snatching your special pink mechanical pencil from his side of the table. You spent too much money on it to let—your stupid math tutor who is now giving you homework to make you suffer—steal it.

“I need to practice math.” You mumble, zipping up your bag, and putting it over your shoulder.

Namjoon laughs, letting his red pen fall against the wooden table with a clank. You roll your eyes before standing up. At least your suffering was amusing to someone.

You cross your arms in front you waiting for his laughter to die down. When it does he looks at you, watery eyes from joy and you feel a slight tug in the inside of your chest. You push it to the side, convince yourself that it’s just the irritation bubbling up inside of you.

“Are you done?”

He nods, shuffles around the table to put his stuff away. “How are you getting home?” He questions, standing up and hoisting his vintage messenger bag over his shoulder.

You shrug, “the bus.” You state, pulling up your phone to check the bus schedule. If you can catch the next bus that comes in ten minutes then you’ll still be able to get home with a couple of seconds left of daylight.

“I’ll go with you then.” He states firmly, standing up abruptly and walking past you. It leaves you no room to argue against him.

You’re quickly starting to realize that once he says something firmly enough to be believed as the truth. There is absolutely no room left for a final say.

And they call you stubborn…as if.

The bus arrived a minute late. A minute that felt longer than what it should’ve felt. The two of you were the only ones standing side by side under the dim light of the bus stop.

It’s one thing to be in the same room as your tutor while the only thing the two of you talk about is math. It’s another thing to have him offer to walk you home. There’s no conversation. There’s no way to start a conversation. The only thing you really know about him is that he’s still studying, he is Jungkook’s step brother and he’s a philosophy major. The only philosophers you knew off were the ones from Ancient Greece. All the readings for your Introduction to Modern Rhetorics course that you were assigned to do were somewhere buried in the back of your mind.

You don’t want to start up a conversation in which you know you won’t be able to keep up. You remember very little about the readings and somehow the things you do remember blend into one another. So you can’t differentiate between what one philosopher said and what the other said.

Instead, Namjoon and you walk in silence. At a safe distance but close enough to still feel the presence of the other. Then you stand in the bus stop. Neither of you sit on the cold metal bench because it’s still not cold enough for them to turn on the bench warmers. And when you see that the bus is a minute late, you start to feel the slightly awkward air around the two of you get thicker.

You’re about to bite the bullet, take the embarrassing moment for some sort of small talk when the bright blue bus turns the corner. You watch it approach the stop fast. At least that’s what it feels like and soon enough the driver opens the double doors to welcome the two of you.

Surprisingly it’s not full. There are a few people occupying the seats, but there’s enough room to not feel like you’re being squished upon one another. Namjoon lets you enter first. Once you click your transit card against the reader you scan the rows for an empty seat. And of course, there’s two left in the far back. You walk to it quickly. Pass the exhausted bystanders and take the seat against the window.

After all, you will be here for the next twenty five minutes. Though, it’s not only occurred to you that you don’t know where Namjoon lives, until he takes up the seat next to yours. You want to ask if he’s going out of his way or if his place is along this route. But you don’t want to pry too much. You’ve only just met him officially. You also don’t know what you would do with yourself if it does turn out that his place is out of the way. Probably, apologize profusely for being such an inconvenience.

To save yourself from the discomfort you sights upon the buildings outside the window. Your daydreaming only lasts a few seconds when you feel a light tap against your shoulder. In a quick motion you turn your head to face the man sitting next to you. You tilt your head in question and he opens his mouth to speak.

“What’s the deal with you and Jungkook?”

The question feels like you’ve been hit by whiplash. It’s not the first time you get asked about it. Your longtime friend Jina has brought it up a few times, but you always reply with the same exact answer. “I guess we’re friends.” You shrug.

Namjoon hums in acknowledgment, nodding his head. He looks ahead for a few minutes before looking back at you. “Are you sure?”

Now, this question takes you aback. Nobody’s ever questioned your honesty. At least until now.

You quirk a brow and nod. “Yes, we share a few classes and sometimes we study together. But it always feels like I’m there to study and he’s just there to talk because he never shuts up.” You rant.

“Ah,” he chuckles, moving his head in confirmation. “That sounds like him, when he was younger he never talked, but then he turned fifteen got a little confident because he found out a few people found him cute and he just never stopped talking then.” Namjoon reveals, making you smile. “He also talks in his sleep.” He adds, smiling when he hears you let out a giggle.

Suddenly, it doesn’t feel as awkward as before. It feels a bit simpler. And you find yourself leaning into his aura a little more.

“I think he likes you though.” He adds, making your eyes grow wide in surprise. Maybe you’re dumb or you just don’t understand flirting thanks to the two very unserious relationships you had between the transition of high school and college. But from what you do know is that Jungkook holds no romantic feelings or a liking towards you. That’s something you’re very confident in.

“I don’t think so.” You scoff. “He would be stupid if he did.” You wave him off, and look out the window. You catch his reflection in the glass. He’s looking down at you, smiling in amusement. It somehow makes your cheeks get a bit hot and you divert your gaze down to the metal border of the window.

“He sat me down on our couch last night and laid down some ground rules.” He speaks up, looking ahead again. He lifts his hand and starts, “I’m not allowed to let you out of my sight, I have to be nice to you, and Hobi is not allowed under any circumstances get your number, which somehow I failed at doing.” He shrugs and counts with his fingers as if that proves his statement.

You stare at his hand before looking up at him again, you’re at a loss for words. Your thoughts are all jumbled up. Somehow you know tonight you won’t be able to sleep. You will now be questioning every single interaction you’ve had with Jungkook in the past few months.

Clearing your throat you say, “that doesn’t mean he like…has feelings for me.”

He lifts his hands up in defense. Your tone is harsh and he finds it amusing. He continues, “don’t shoot the messenger, I’m just relaying information on something I’ve observed.”

You finally turn to look at him. Your eyebrows are drawn together in a scowl. “No offense but your observation is stupid.” You cross your arms in a huff, pouting like a child. It makes Namjoon laugh loud enough to turn heads, causing you to look at him alarmed. It only makes him laugh harder and when you’re about to reprimand him, the automatic voice sounds in the speakers of the bus. It announces your stop and you scramble quickly to press the bright red button to stop the bus.

This shuts Namjoon up, he looks around, biting the inside of his cheek before nodding his head in confirmation. “This is your stop,” he voices just as the bus comes to a halt.

You nod, taking out your bus card from your purse and standing up. He copies your movements, makes his way to the card scanner and places his card against it. He doesn’t wait for you to exit he simply does and stands outside on the sidewalk, hands in his pocket. You scan your card and take the leap of faith from the bus stairs to the sidewalk. You land next to him, thanking your lucky stars for catching you and finally you voice out the question that’s been dying in the back of your throat.

“This is not your stop is it?”

“It’s not but, I promised Jungkook you would get home safely.” With that he turns on his heels and escapes the light of the stop, appearing again a few feet ahead underneath the street light. “Are you coming?”

“Do you do everything Jungkook says?” You grumble. The argument in which you state that you’re a big girl who is more than capable of walking home by herself escapes you. Only because when you’re finally standing in front of him. His head towering just a few inches above yours, it finally hits you. The jolt that springs in the pit of your stomach. The tug inside your heart that will have you up all night because it feels like a terrible case of heartburn. And the seed, his soft gaze plants inside of your mind.

It’s a mistake, a big one and you’re now regretting taking up Jungkook’s offer to have his brother tutor you. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen at all. The slow cascade down the wall you’ve built surrounding your emotions. You can feel it crumble already, ready to run down a dead end street, because that’s what it feels like. Whatever you’re feeling inside.

“I don’t.” The soft timbre of his voice brings out, you’re thankful it helps you find your way back down to the ground, but you’re not a fan of the way it paints goosebumps across your arms.

He continues, “I don’t want him to lecture me for not looking out after his friend.” He emphasizes the last part, combining it with a wink. You know what he is implying and you can’t help but feel a bit of the drink you had an hour ago threatening to make its way up your throat.

“You’re not going to give up are you?” You walk past him. It’s best to have him a few feet behind than right next to you. The space gives you time to regain yourself, yet it doesn’t last because in seconds he’s right next to you. His arm is so close. It almost brushes against yours. Thankfully it doesn’t but you can smell his cologne. It’s soft, and warm. Like fresh laundry on a sunday morning. It makes your insides burn and you know that from now on you will be looking for that scent everywhere so you can call it yours.

Namjoon shakes his head. “I’ve never seen him this protective over someone apart from his mom.” He whispers now, and the lower his voice gets the lower it sinks inside of you. “You must be special to him.” He concludes.

“I think I’m just the first girl who's never kissed his toes and finds him annoying.” You halt in front of a street light, and he stops with you. The little man signals red—do not go. You turn your head from side to side questioning your safety. If you run now, you will likely still be alive but most importantly away from the man next to you. Honestly, you’re a bit confused. When he was talking about algebra the only thing you could focus on was how to get from point a to point b while solving the problem.

Now that the moon is dim and the streets are emptying out. The only thing you can think about is how soft and ethereal he looks. Nothing like how when you first met him, but something straight out of a modernized fairy tale. It’s hitting you unexpectedly and you begin to wonder if it’s because your exhaustion is finally settling in, making you delusional.

“That could be true, but I think that you’re here to stay for a long time.” He chuckles. The little man switches to green and he takes the step.

“Why do you say that?” You walk fast to catch up to him. You realize that he is blindly following you and you to him. Sure, you’re almost home, but he’s leading the way as if he knows where he’s going. As if he’s done this before with you and has been doing this with you his entire life. It doesn’t do anything to calm your beating heart.

He stays quiet. He keeps on walking, stealing secret glances your way to see if he’s still at the same pace as you. It stays this way until you stop in front of a cute town house. The door is decorated with an autumn reef. The worlds ‘welcome fall,’ take up the entire circumference. There’s a red bell on the handle, to signal when someone is home since the doorbell has been broken ever since you could remember.

You’re home. But for some reason it had already felt like you were home.

“If it’s not Kook then it’s Hobi. Plus I need to make sure you pass math.” He voices.

You look at him, tilting your head in confusion. Until your mouth widens in a silent ‘oh’ recalling the question he had failed to answer a minute ago.

“I think your brain has been corrupted by reading into things while you do your research.”

He chuckles, “again don’t shoot the messenger, it’s not surprising though.” He shrugs, “My brother never shuts up about you, and Hobi hasn’t stopped asking for your contact information since you first walked into Serendipity a week ago.”

You roll your eyes, turning away from him and pressing your palm against the keypad of your house. It lights up, showing numbers and you quickly enter the code, wait for the little lock to signal it has been unlocked and you turn the knob.

Before you walk in you turn to face him again. “I won’t argue with you against the whole Hobi thing. But I know Jungkook doesn’t have feelings for me. If he did he wouldn’t tell me about all the dates he’s gone on and ask for advice whenever he has relationship or situationship problems. Plus he says he’s in love with someone he met this weekend.” You reason.

Namjoon takes his hands out of his pockets, raising his hands in defeat again. “Fine I’ll drop it, but I do think he finds you special. That’s all.” He states firmly and once again you’re reminded of that tone. He’s gotten the last word and you won’t bring up another one because if not then you’d be walking a tight circle around each other.

“Agree to disagree.” You smile, taking one step inside your house. “I’ll take your word for now. Thank you for walking me home. You didn’t have to even if Jungkook asked you to.”

He buries his hands into his pockets and grins. “I also wanted to.” He takes one step back. “Good night, I’ll see you on Thursday.” And with that he turns around, starts his way down the same path that led the two of you here.

Home.

You’re left astounded. In a rush to feel comfort once again, you hurry through the door, slamming it behind you, pressing your back against it. For a moment you’re scared your parents might find you in this state, wallowing in feelings you can’t begin to understand. Then you remember that they were at dinner with their friends, and you’re thankful that you still have some time to regain yourself.

Namjoon’s words cut deep. Not what he said about Jungkook. You know as well as you know your name that romantic feelings between the two of you are nonexistent. But you also know that he said he wanted to walk you home.

Chivalry might not be dead but the bar is low, because he wanted…he wanted…he wanted to wa—

Beep.

Your phone goes off signaling a message. With all the ditzyness a girl with a school girl crush can have. You fish out your phone with a haste, what if it’s him.

Though, that thought dies as quickly as it was conjured. It’s not him, but it’s a notification that in the same right births a little flame inside of you. Maybe not as bright as the one Namjoon left behind, but it has the potential to grow into something more.

uarmyhope wants to send you a message.

Your smile gets wide when you swipe across the notification. It opens up to your Instagram and it quickly directs you to your DMS.

You open it, and you feel a spark when you read the few choice words that were chosen. They’re simple but they’re enough. And they’re the start of a long night of getting to know someone else.

Your next latte is on me cutie.xx

[phoenixyfriend]

Was watching a ContraPoints video (popular trans lady YouTuber) on some gender philosophy and got to thinking about trans girl Ani nuances.

OKAY SO: Contrapoints makes a comment in the video (transcript here) that she views herself as a boy who became a woman, not a girl who didn't realize it yet, which is a relatively uncommon approach among trans people, and that's in the middle of a longer discussion on the flaws in radfem theology (which I watched right after this PhilosophyTube video, and accidentally conflated the two since the former talked a lot about systems/structures of gender).

Anyway, I'm rotating that in my mind with regards to Anakin, who grew up in a setting that could easily be interpreted as having a much foggier distinction between Man and Woman than between Slave and Maste,r or human and twilek, etc.

It's entirely feasible that, on Tatooine in particular, the social elements of gender came down to very practical concerns (reproduction) and very superficial signs (e.g. hairstyle could maybe broadcast intended gender, and who wears skirts) outside of the specific situation of highly gendered and sexual forms of slavery (Jabba's dancing girls), which was relatively rare compared to more standard forms, like shop work or janitorial or what have you.

So you have an Anakin who grew up in a setting where "am I a girl?" isn't necessarily a question that would have the same answer as in another setting with more defined gender distinctions, in terms of both expression and role, and of the matter of identity at that confluence.

Then he--still he, at that time--meets Padmé and the handmaidens (very feminine, very girl, but not in a way that's at all like the way women on Tatooine willingly engage with), and encounters Coruscant culture (lots of gender dynamics due to the culture mash, but a low-key Western Misogyny vibe in the Senate and other non-Jedi settings Anakin's liable to encounter), as well as the Jedi classes on gender and sexuality and respecting/navigating those parts of culture on other planets.

As a result, Anakin starts developing a new, more nuanced and expansive understanding of gender, where it's more than just a few small differences, and the people around are mostly Jedi, who are also pretty dang open to nontraditional gender approaches etc And Anakin sort of… grows into wanting to be woman? In a way that isn't the usual "I always knew I was a girl" and more of an "I've learned what people consider a girl, and I'd like to be one."

And like. Ani COULD go back to thinking of gender in Tatooine terms, but why bother? Being a girl makes her happy. She wasn't unhappy as a boy in that gender framework, but she's happy as a girl now.

But because she didn't mind being raised a boy, she might say things a "when I was a boy" or "back when I was still living as a boy"

Me every time I hear a new, interesting take on gender: How can I apply this to a fictional character?

Also tbf this settles pretty well with my general thoughts on nb Anakin as well, where gender is like… It Sure Is A Thing That Exists. Anyway, Where's The Blasterfire?

[qqueenofhades]

Something that gets me is not folks who are refusing to vote: I don’t agree with them BUT I understand the moral pain and can be empathic to that. I also understand people threatening not to try to convince policy changes. But there’s also a crowd that’s like “if you vote, you’re a piece of shit” and like, guys, im not gonna chase you down to vote but i will spend one day doing a small task to try to prevent as much death as possible.

See, maybe it is just because I am An Old and didn't come of age in the whole leftist social media "voting is at best morally neutral and at worst actively evil" Discourse TM that predominates today, but I just... don't sympathize at all with this "oh no it hurts my tender fee-fees to pick a flawed candidate in a flawed system" thing. I voted for the first time as a freshman in college in 2006. I registered when I turned 18, I walked to the polling place a couple blocks from my dorm, and I felt really excited to do it. I didn't come from a particularly active political household, though George W. Bush-bashing was a popular sport and my parents, once conservative Christian Reagan voters (ugh) were consistently voting for Democrats in the presidential race no later than 2000 or so, but are still technically unaffiliated. It was just because I had taken it in that voting was a good thing to do and part of becoming a responsible adult, so I did.

Since then, I have done two things I am proud of, which is a) never voted for any Republican ever anywhere (straight blue tickets for... almost 20 years CHRIST I AM OLD), and b) only missed one or at most two elections in that time (and certainly no presidential or major midterms). This included voting from overseas in two presidential elections (2008, 2016), voting by mail in others, changing my voter registration across multiple moves/states and to places where it would be more electorally useful, and otherwise making a conscious effort to keep it current and to use it every time. As I said, I don't know if this is because I'm old and therefore my perceptions were not shaped by this constant social media need to caveat and excuse and apologize for voting, or having to argue everyone really hard into doing it, but it is just not a moral burden for me. Voting is good. Voting is always preferable to the alternative. Voting is not something that needs to be extensively disclaimed. Just do it, you fuckers. Get off my lawn.

[funnier-as-a-system]

Hiii. Not sure if this even counts as a question to be fair, nor is this a funny suggestion, but like.

For my final project in college I'm kind of making a game concept about plurality (as a system host myself) and uhm long story short I guess.

I made two characters-alters, one of which is female and the other is male, and the teacher who curates my project was like (super paraphrased) "I'm getting some romantic connotations here and I think we shouldn't show people that you can literally date yourself, cuz that seems super unhealthy" and he then backed down a bit and was like "well it's not really normal so maybe think about that some more".

And so like. The concept I'm making is based on the complicated relationship between me and my co-host. I am heavily basing the characters on me and that co-host, I am heavily using the issues we had in our relationship, to hopefully be able to show people who are new to plurality that you shouldn't treat your alters the way me and my co-host treated each other before, because THAT is what was unhealthy.

All of which is to say, right now I am married to that co-host and I'm very happy about that, but my teacher's words quite hurt me. Like I literally don't even understand what could be so unhealthy about in-system dating. How rare even is that? Is my perception of in-system dating just that skewed, since nearly all our alters are in a relationship with each other? Most importantly, am I faki-

(Also, by saying that, the teacher inadvertently recommended me to make it a gay ship. Lol? I wish I could make one of the characters an enby like me and avoid the issue entirely, but I can't) (My husband The Co-Host said that the teacher is just rude)

There's nothing inherently unhealthy about intrasystem dating. I've found most people who claim it's "unhealthy" actually mean "I find it weird and I can't distinguish between my personal discomfort and something that's actually bad." – a frustrating argument, but one we're familiar with, and one that should largely be ignored unless you're looking to engage in an educational discussion with someone who holds this view. Others claim it is unhealthy because it "encourages division/dissociation between headmates", but this is largely based on the idea that headmates having any sort of personal identity or self-identification gets in the way of achieving final fusion, which has its own flaws as an argument, including final fusion not being the goal or healthiest option for all systems, as well as ignoring that [harmful] dissociation may increase if a headmate does not have any sort of personal identity to distinguish themselves from the rest of their system with. In short, the arguments against intrasystem dating tend to boil down to "I think this is bad for you because it doesn't fit into what I think people should do", which only shows one's own close-mindedness.

Since plurality is an unfamiliar concept to most people, they don't have the experience necessary to distinguish between genuine red flags and something niche that just takes time to get used to the idea of. Intrasystem dating is niche, but it's no more inherently unhealthy than other kinds of niche dating, like t4t partnerships. The same argument has been used against polyamorous relationships for being similarly uncommon and going against what people expect of relationships (particularly romantic ones), but those are not inherently unhealthy either; it goes to show that people will reuse the same arguments against any kind of relationship they do not approve of, rather than taking a step back and considering for themselves if a particular relationship dynamic is inherently unhealthy. While intrasystem dating can be unhealthy, it is not inherently so just due to the relationship dynamic.

When backing down, your teacher said intrasystem dating is "not really normal", and that truly is the crux of this argument. People do not like that which does not fall neatly into their understandings of "normal", and think anything that isn't normal is automatically bad. This is untrue. I would say to hold strong to your original vision for your project, not just for yourself/ves, but because refusing to fall in line and pretend to be "normal" is how we achieve progress. Even if your teacher doesn't change his mind, your work may introduce the concept to someone else, making it less unfamiliar (more familiar) and more normal to them, leading to more people understanding and accepting not just systems in general, but intrasystem dating specifically.

Speaking of, to answer your question, while intrasystem dating is uncommon, I don't believe it's especially rare – I could name several of our headmates right now who are in a polyamorous partnership with each other, as well as a handful of other couples. We've known many other systems who have had some or all headmates dating each other. It's not the most common topic to talk about in the community, but it is certainly a topic frequent enough to be brought up from time to time.

Your teacher was rude and incorrect. I have sympathy for the hurt you feel because of his pluralphobic words, and I hope you're able to feel better about this incident soon. Remember, staying true to yourself will almost always feel better than hiding who you are for the comfort of others, so if you feel safe enough to go for it, push onward and continue your work with all its authenticity and intrasystem dating included. I wish you luck in your game development and your final project!

[spunkykirby]

Uhm...I found another potential flaw mihoyo needs to confront about Neuvillette and his Archon Trials:

...how exactly is he playing both the Plaintiff and the Judge???

This "legal" case would present several significant flaws:

1. Conflict of Interest. Neuvillette would be responsible for both presenting their case and making decisions on the outcome, creating a clear conflict of interest. The archons don't even need to point this out, the jury would be questioning this from the get go (especially when Neuvi has never acted as both before, nor has anyone in all of fontaine's history).

2. Bias: It's likely that Neuvi would be biased in favor of his own interests (he's the one who enforced the "come to trial or there's Violence™ in the first place anyway), leading to potential unfair rulings and potentially denying the opposing party a fair trial.

3. Violation of Due Process: The principles of due process, which ensure fair treatment and impartiality in legal proceedings, would be compromised if one person held BOTH roles. I understand the PO did this but Neuvillette is not the PO and touts a lot about being impartial and true Fairness. He is not embodying that if he projects his grievances with only the PO onto the people who aren't the PO nor did they do the PO's exact crime.

4. Loss of Confidence in the Legal System. Such a setup would undermine public trust and confidence in the legal system, as it goes against fundamental principles of fairness and justice. Once again, highly doubt it has ever happened in all of Fontaine's history.

This scenario would likely be considered a severe violation of judicial ethics. It would be called a conflict of interest, where the individual holding both roles has a personal stake in the outcome of the case (Justice for Dragons™ but then again it's NOT against their actual Perpetrator™ which is THE PO), compromising the integrity of the legal process.

SOLUTION(S):

1. Get someone else to act as the Judge. Would be hilarious for it to be Furina. She'd be familiar with the court and no longer needs to speak in bias since she's not masquerading as the Archon. Additionally she has experience/understanding from both sides. Main issue of course being: topic of gods is an anxiety inducing thing for her...though this time it has nothing to do with her.

2. Someone else to act as the Plaintiff. This is iffy. It'd have to be a person with extensive knowledge on the old world and/or Teyvat's true history while being in agreement with Neuvillette. But this would also potentially spark the conflict of interest thing again, cause they could be said to be put there as an agent for Neuvillette/a slimy way for Neuvi to act in both positions.

They may be archons, but they're far from being fools. They have leagues of experience dealing with these situations; they're not walking into one that's obviously drenched in bias against them and they serve to gain nothing from it (well, nothing but harm/death and potentially affecting their denizens).

Two ways to dodge that would be to put either Furina or maybe some Natlantean on stand.

[runariya]

My Beloved Villain (JJK) • Chapter 5

pairing: hero!Jungkook x villain!female reader genre: dark romance, gore, villain!AU, hero!AU, slow burn rating: MDNI, 18+ warnings: covering up of wounds, thoughts about past mud€r, awkward morning, lies, fluff, 700 in 3 Jungkook because I couldn't not write it, inner conflicts between good and bad, detailed description of inner autopsy, scalpel in thigh, blood, stitching without local anaesthesia, drinking, fluff, OC drops a hint to her dark side, Jungkook is oblivious in so many ways it physically hurts, smut, f!ngering, worshipping, oral (m. receiving), protected s€x, OC rides him (it's the way that you can ride~), pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 7.6K

a/n: I thought I'd upload tomorrow as a present for ✨ Jungkook Day ✨ but I’m going to be busy, so here’s the chapter a little early. It’s a bit of a treat, mostly fluff and smut, pushing the plot forward, so ENJOY! After this one, we’ll be spiralling fast and hard 🫢 Please don’t come at me!

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to med school are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • masterlist • 06

The next morning, you stand in your small shared bathroom that after all these years still feels too small, the kind of tight space that seems to crowd you when you’re already feeling a little claustrophobic. You’re staring into the mirror, eyes a little distant, trying to assess the damage from last night, trying to make sense of everything that happened in the darkness of night. The faint bathroom light flickers once, just as if it’s mimicking the wavering thoughts in your head, and you finally focus on yourself again. 

Your neck isn’t much of a problem, the slight pinkish bruise barely visible when the light isn’t catching just right, so masking it with some make up isn’t much of a problem. You can make it disappear entirely, almost like nothing happened. Almost. What does concern you however is the little cut on your swollen, puffy bottom lip. The skin is stretching tight over the small cut that’s stubborn in its defiance, refusing to be ignored. It’s not big, nor is it deep, but it’s prominent in the way it catches the light, just enough that someone standing close to you might notice. Someone like Jungkook.

Brushing teeth only added to the inflammation, which you gladly don’t feel, but will be adding to the problem of covering up. You curse softly under your breath, wondering how you’ll manage to keep it truly hidden, to dodge any questions about why your lips look like you’ve been punched in the face, what you actually have been.

You rummage through your cosmetics bag, hands shaking a little more than you’d like to admit as you pull out a small tube of liquid plaster, dapping it accurately on it so it’s somehow a smoother surface. The rich plum balm next, gliding over your lips, darkening the pink flesh until it matches the colour of the bruised skin perfectly. The cut disappears, camouflaged, and for a moment, you feel satisfied like you’ve won some small, meaningless victory over your reflection. The mask is in place, or maybe just good enough as is it.

You sigh deeply, letting the air out of your lungs as if it could take away the heaviness that has settled in your chest, but it doesn’t. You look at yourself once more, turning your head side to side, searching for flaws you might have missed. You look…normal, more or less. Tired, though. There’s no hiding the shadows beneath your eyes, the slight droop to your shoulders. You haven’t slept well. Not because of the kill itself—strangely enough, that part almost brought a sense of clarity, like you’d purged something toxic from your system with a detox diet—but because of Pulse. 

The memory of his eyes haunts you still, the way they were full of devastation, that strange sadness that clung to him, lingered in your thoughts like a stain in your favourite shirt you can’t scrub out for the life of you. He shouldn’t bother you this much. He shouldn’t. You’ve done worse last night, seen worse in your entire life. But there’s something about him that keeps gnawing at you, lodged in your mind, needles that are too deep to pull out, and it’s irritating in a way you can’t quite describe.

Why does he have this power over you? It’s irrational, maddening if you think about it long enough. You find yourself asking over and over again if you’ve met him before, if maybe, in some way, he isn’t a stranger at all. You can’t pinpoint it, but there’s something. Something in the way his eyes looked at you, something in the way his presence affects you even now, long after the night has ended. You hate it. You hate him for making you feel this way. It’s like there’s a vice wrapped around your chest, and every time you think of him, it tightens, constricting just a little more until you go wild.

But there’s no time to dwell on it now. You push the thoughts away with a forceful shove, leaving them scattered behind you like you did yesterday with him standing there. No, today is not the day to think about him or anything that happened last night. You’ve got classes to get to, and you’re definitely running late right now. You take one last glance at the mirror, nod to yourself, and step out of the bathroom, trying to ignore this irritating feeling that’s settled over your head.

But of course, as soon as you open the door, the universe decides to throw you another curveball. Jennie is standing there, right outside the bathroom, completely oblivious to the concept of modesty, wearing nothing but Taehyung’s oversized shirt. Your brain freezes for a second, and all you can do is blink, trying to process the scene in front of you. Jennie looks just as startled, her wide eyes locked on yours, frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights right before its doom. 

“No. Fucking. Way.” You mutter under your breath, the disbelief seeping out of your pores. This can’t be real. But it is, and the longer you stand there, the more awkward it becomes. Jennie doesn’t move. You don’t move. And then, because the universe apparently thinks this situation isn’t awkward enough already, Taehyung steps out of his room and stops dead in his tracks as well. His eyes flick from you to Jennie, then back to you, and you can see the exact moment his brain short-circuits.

It’s almost comical, the way the three of you are just standing there in this ridiculous triangle of shock and embarrassment. But then, you’re the first to break free from the spell. You grin, sidestepping Jennie and making a beeline for the front door. You toss a hand over your shoulder as you call back, “I didn’t see shit.” Your voice is light, teasing, and you can’t help but giggle as you slip out the door.

But of course, you did see something. And it’s enough to make you file this away for later, something to question Taehyung about when the time is right. You’ll have to sit him down and roast him properly for this—though, knowing yourself, the topic will eventually circle back to Jungkook, and how your friendship shifted too.

You’re walking down the usual pathway to your classes, when you spot Jungkook. He’s ahead of you, but even from a distance, you can tell something is off. He’s slouched, shoulders hunched forward, his usual confident stride replaced by something slower, heavier. Your heart skips a beat, but maybe you’re just imagining things, so, you jog the rest of the way to catch up to him.

“Kook! Wait!” you call out, breathless as you finally reach him. “You wouldn’t believe what I just walked in on!”

But the words die on your lips the moment you get a good look at him, and you’re painfully reminded that your first instinct is always right. He’s not the Jungkook you know. There’s something…different. His eyes are distant, unfocused, his expression hollow in a way that makes your stomach twist on itself, making the bright smile that had been on your face fade, replaced by a deepening worry as the seconds tick by.

“What’s wrong?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You can see the sadness in his eyes, the exhaustion that drips from him like mud. It mirrors your own feelings, but his seem deeper, darker, like he’s sinking into something you can’t reach.

“Nothing,” he says, but the word is empty, devoid of meaning. “I might skip class today.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Skip class? You never skip class. Kook, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are red, bloodshot, like he hasn’t slept in days, his muscles tense, coiled like a spring that’s ready to snap any minute. The unease inside you grows tenfold, spreading through your veins like wildfire. You replay yesterday’s date in your mind, sifting through every moment, every word spoken, every touch shared, searching for any clue, something that might explain his sudden shift. But all you can think of is that maybe, somehow, he regrets it. Maybe he regrets being with you, and the thought alone drowns you more than any ocean could.

“If it’s about yesterday,” you start, your voice hesitant, your thoughts stumbling over each other in their desperation to make sense of it all, “if you regret the date, we can still be friends, you know?”

For a moment, he’s completely still. Then, like a switch has been flipped, his whole demeanour changes to his usual self. His shoulders relax, his eyes lose some of that haunted distance, and he reaches out for you, pulling you into a tight embrace, squishing you against his firm pecs. His voice is firm when he speaks, simple and resolute. “No.”

“No?” you echo, stunned. You don’t know how to process the sudden shift, hell, even the last twenty-four hours.

“No,” he repeats, more gently this time. “It’s not about us, I promise.” His lips brush against your hair, his arms wrapped securely around you as if he’s trying to shield you from something you can’t see. “I want this. I want us.”

You feel yourself relax into him, the unease slowly seeping out of your body as naive relief floods in to take its place. “I want us too,” you murmur softly, leaning into his warmth even more.

Jungkook pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he gazes down at you, his eyes filled with something that feels so much like devotion it almost makes you tear up. “I forgot to ask you something,” he teases, his voice lighter now, almost playful. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

His smile is lazy, like he already knows the answer, which you have to admit he does. Your heart skips a beat again, but for a very different reason this time. “Of course,” you grin up at him despite yourself still not trusting his mood swing. 

“Good,” he winks with a playful smirk. “May your boyfriend kiss you then?”

You giggle, unable to help yourself, the sound is bright and airy in the morning light. It’s ridiculous, the whole situation is ridiculous, but it feels so right. So normal. So him. So you. “Yes, please,” you whisper, and when his perfect lips meet yours, it feels like coming home. It’s soft, warm, everything you didn’t know you needed until this very moment. He tastes like comfort, like safety, like love.

And for that moment, you allow yourself to forget the world. To forget Pulse. To forget the shadows that still linger on the edges of your mind. For now, it’s just you and Jungkook, and that’s all you need and have. 

When you finally pull apart, he’s smiling down at you with nothing but affection in his eyes. “You sure you won’t come to class?” you try softly, hoping maybe he’s changed his mind too. 

But the moment you say it, you regret it. You can see the switch begin to turn again, his expression slowly shifting back to that distant look, the one that makes you feel like you’re losing him to something you can’t fight. 

“Nah,” he says after a pause, his voice quieter now. “Or… unless you want to work on our project?”

You shake your head, trying to keep your voice light. “We can do it another day.”

He shakes his head slowly, but there’s still that wall between you, something that he won’t let you see. “I’ll come by later,” he says, his voice distant again. “We can work on it then.”

“You sure?” you ask again, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m sure,” he says, leaning down to kiss you one last time before you part ways. And even though something inside you still feels unsettled, you hold onto that moment, to the warmth of his lips, the softness of his touch, and the hope that whatever is weighing him down, you’ll figure it out before it eats him alive. 

The day drags on after that like thick honey without Jungkook beside you, every class feeling like an endless void of monotony. You find yourself standing now alone outside the autopsy lab in the late afternoon, waiting for him, though you can’t help the quiet doubt creeping in—he's late, for the first time ever, and part of you wonders if he'll even show. To pass the time, you and your friends huddled mere minutes ago to plan a semi-surprise birthday party for Jungkook at the Italian restaurant, you volunteering to do the speech. It was light, fun, a bit distracting, a way to fill the gaps he’s left in your day, but somehow you couldn’t seem to fully join the excitement as you plotted out the details, even though it’s a way to celebrate the person who has become so important to you.

Across the courtyard, you see a couple stroll by, hand in hand, their laughter soft and intimate, and for a moment, a quiet contentment settles over you. You no longer feel that familiar twinge of sadness when you see couples like this, but are reminded of how lucky you really are, how someone as special as Jungkook has walked into your life. That warmth sits with you, and you think it permanently has settled within you by now, as you glance back down the path.

Then, you spot him. Jogging towards you in a black t-shirt, his hair tousled and damp with sweat, Jungkook’s muscular frame catches you completely off-guard. His late arrival suddenly makes sense. He must’ve lost track of time at the gym, and now, here he is, rushing to meet you with that apologetic smile. But your eyes can’t fixate on his face—his muscles are somehow more prominent than ever, veins tracing lines up his tattooed arm like rivers on a map, pulsing with every step. You’re not even sure when your mouth dropped open, but it stays that way as he finally reaches you, breathless and sweaty.

“Sorry I’m late,” he pants, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, his breath fanning your face with every exhale. He steps back but keeps his hand on the small of your back, his touch doing nothing more than searing where he touches you.

Your throat feels as if it’s turned to sandpaper, dry and useless, but through a miracle unknown, you manage to stammer out, “Did you work out since this morning?”

Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, his lips quirking with amusement. “Yeah, why?”

“Kook, it’s been over five hours,” you exclaim, half in awe, half in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s an undeniable glint in his eyes. He knows exactly what effect he’s having on you. “I’ve been hitting my new goal.”

“What goal?” you implore, your curiosity piqued, though your attention keeps slipping back to the way his shirt clings to his chest and shoulders, as though it might tear at any moment.

“700 in the big three,” he replies, smirking with that lazy arrogance that only makes him more irresistible.

“700 in the big three,” you echo, the words floating out of your mouth automatically as your brain struggles to catch up. You can’t even properly process what he’s saying; you’re far too busy ogling him like some kind of starstruck fool.

“700 in the big three,” Jungkook repeats, his tone teasing now, the humour barely concealed behind his smirk. He watches you with that glimmer in his eyes, this confident, playfully condescending glimmer you never seen before on him.

It takes you a second—a second too long, really—but the realisation hits you like a punch in the guts. “700 kilograms in the big three lifts,” you murmur, the numbers looping in your head over and over like a broken record, the image of him lifting so much weight making your knees useless. And with each repetition, your heart rate picks up, your mind spiralling in ways that are anything but clinical. 

Jungkook watches your reaction with an amused glint, his laughter barely contained as he steps closer. “You good?” he asks after a moment, his smile widening at the stunned look on your face.

You nod—well, more like a broken bobblehead—completely overwhelmed. There’s something primal about the way he’s standing there, his raw masculinity sending your hormones into overdrive. And then, just when you think you might be able to regain some sense of control, or rather sanity, he leans down, his breath hot and still slightly quick against your ear, and rasps, “Shall we head inside?”

The words are innocent, off topic, so simple, so ordinary, but coming from him, in this moment with this tone, they feel like a challenge, like a provocation. Your body practically trembles at the sound of his voice, and your brain, already hazy from his presence, finally surrenders with waving flags. You’re helpless—utterly defeated by the sheer being of Jeon Jungkook—and at this point, you’d happily surrender to him again and again, for as long as he wants you to.

“Yes,” you breathe out, the word barely audible, more of a moan than an answer. You’re not even sure if you say it aloud or if it’s simply a thought that escapes your lips. But Jungkook hears it, and the atmosphere between you shifts in an instant. His body tenses, his eyes darkening with a hunger you’ve never seen in him before. It’s utterly raw and intense, and for a split second, you think you might combust under the weight of his gaze. There’s no softness, no tenderness in his eyes now—only desire, pure and unfiltered.

„Another time, ___.“ He doesn’t say anything else, as if he just answered your unspoken conversation, and gently guides you inside the building, his hand never leaving the small of your back. When you and Jungkook step into the lab, the freezing air of it cools you both significantly down, and as the door closes behind you, you try to gather your scattered thoughts, reminding yourself that you’re here to work, to be somehow professional enough to do the project. But with Jungkook beside you, radiating power and confidence, you know it’s going to be an uphill battle to stay focused on anything other than him.

Around you, everyone is already deep into their work, carefully peeling back layers of skin and bone in their inner autopsies. The only ones lagging behind are Ben and Juan, still caught up in their external examinations, fumbling slightly as they try to catch up. You don’t let it slow you down, though—you’ve already lost enough time. Without a word, you and Jungkook move, quickly pulling your gloves on and retrieving your body from the cooler unit. And just like last time, you find yourselves standing across from each other at the autopsy table, the cold steel beneath your fingertips again triggering you demons to come out and play. 

Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, kind and calm, and for a brief second, the darkness takes a step back, but it’s not enough when you look away, knowing better than to stand here with your emotions in overdrive. You can still feel the empathy radiating from him, a soft pressure against the walls you’ve carefully built around yourself, but you shut it out, wrapping yourself in the cold. It’s easier this way—safer.

And when that darkness within you finally consumes you fully, twisting its way through your thoughts, you feel the weight of your own hypocrisy. You’re the one who flips the switch now, pulls away, hides what lies beneath the surface. You realise then, slowly but oh so painfully, that it’s not just him keeping secrets. It’s you too, guarding those parts of yourself, refusing to let him in where it matters most. You shut him out, even as you crave his closeness, and in those moments, you know that the subtle divide between you isn’t just on him—it’s the walls you’ve built around your own heart, too.

“We should begin,” you note devoid of all the emotions it held before.

Jungkook nods, and so you reach for the scalpel, its cool handle familiar in your palm. You still feel his searching eyes on you, but you don’t look up, instead you slice the torso’s skin in the usual Y-shaped incision, down from the shoulders to the sternum, and meeting at the xiphoid process before extending down to the pubic symphysis. After peeling back the loose skin, muscle and tissue, you then begin cutting through the thin layers of fascia still clinging to the ribcage, exposing the pale white bones of the ribs.

Jungkook moves to the medical tool trolley, his gloved hands reaching for the rib shears. “Shall I...?”

“Yes,” you reply, stepping back slightly to give him room.

He carefully positions the rib shears between the ribs and begins clipping through the bones with a controlled strength, each snap of bone sending a soft vibration through the instrument. Jungkook works carefully, each snap of bone gentle, as if even now, he seeks to preserve some kind of dignity in death. It unnerves you a little, but as the sound echoes not only in the quiet room but inside your mind too—a crisp, definitive crack, similar to the thuds of Chulsoo as he hit the railings when he flew down the staircase, even though there’s no mess following the sound this time, only a slight shift in the body as the ribcage gives way under the pressure—you know there’s no chance for your emotions to be triggered.

With the ribcage removed, the torso opens before you like an unwelcome revelation, the organs lying in a strange, suspended silence, if waiting for you. The heart—the centre of all life, now still, now just another part of the anatomy to be examined—rests beneath the thin membrane of the pericardium, ready to be freed.

“The heart first?”

“Yes,” you nod with your voice sounding far away, almost hollow in your own ears. You reach for the scalpel again, making the first careful incision into the pericardium. The thin protective layer peels back, exposing the heart fully now, its grey, decayed mass sitting heavy in the cavity. And you wonder, if someone were to cut you open, would your heart, still beating, look the same? Rotten and past repair?

But you shake it off, “Forceps,” your tone more an automatic request than an engagement with him, the word just a tool to continue the work. Jungkook hands them to you, and for the briefest of moments, his fingers brush against yours, sending an unexpected jolt through you. You swallow it down with all your might, feeling utterly exhausted by now while you use the forceps to  gently peel back the rest of the pericardium.

Jungkook leans closer, his brow creased with concentration, his voice quiet as he observes the enlarged heart carefully. “It’s bigger than normal. Maybe hypertrophy.”

“Most likely. Possibly undiagnosed hypertension or cardiovascular disease,” you agree, letting the clinical words form a barrier between you and the moment. You trace your eyes over the heart’s pale surface, noting the thickened walls, the silent history of the body it once powered.

Jungkook nods, his hands moving carefully as he begins to sever the heart’s connections to the body, everything done tender, as though he’s cradling something fragile in his hands. When the heart is finally free, he lifts it with care, placing it in the tray. “We should weigh it,” he suggests, glancing at you with a gentle question in his eyes, one that lingers in the air between you, full of more than just the cold facts of death.

„Hm.“ You nod, watching as he places the heart on the scale. The weight flashes across the small digital display, confirming what you both already suspected.

“It must have strained him,” Jungkook sighs quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he’s speaking to the heart itself, or perhaps to the ghost of the person it belonged to.

“Yes,” you reply absently, your mind trying to ignore his empathy. You can’t afford to feel it, not here, not now.

“Next, the lungs?” 

But Jungkook’s suggestion hangs unanswered in the air, lost in the moment. There’s a sudden yelp behind you, and before you can react, Ben stumbles into your cart, knocking it violently over. A scalpel—thankfully still clean and sanitised—clatters off it and embeds itself in your thigh. The room goes still, breaths held, as everyone stares at the darkening spot of blood slowly spreading across your jeans. You feel the strange weight of the blade in your thigh, though there’s no pain. It’s just... uncomfortable, having a blade lodged in your leg. You sigh, long and heavy, while Jungkook exhales shocked, “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply slightly angered, though the room remains frozen. “Tae, do you have your kit with you?” 

All eyes are on you, including the professor’s, who looks more pale than the body on the table. You limp to a chair at the back of the room, Taehyung already swapping his gloves before casually grabbing his first aid kit. Jungkook hovers nervously, while Ben, on the verge of fainting, stammers out apologies. You wave them off half-heartedly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. As Taehyung kneels before you and rips your jeans open around the scalpel, you say, “No worries, I can feel no pain. It’s no big deal.” But inside, you’re simmering with irritation at Ben’s incompetence.

Ben, looking horrified, blurts out, “What do you mean?! You’re hurt!”

Taehyung doesn’t miss a beat, yanking the scalpel out with not a care in the world, the metal clinking to the floor as you barely blink. He hums a soft tune as he begins cleaning the wound and stitching it up, while you explain, “NTRK1. I can’t feel pain. At all.”

Everyone is stunned to the core, everyone just able to stare as Taehyung works calmly, as if nothing unusual is happening. There’s a little bit of guilt within you, seeing Jungkook’s shocked expression, realising you should’ve probably told him and the others before now. But what’s done is done, and really, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not such a big deal.

When Taehyung finishes, he pats your good thigh with a small smile, „All done,“ and starts packing up his kit, leaving you sitting there, feeling more awkward than anything else.

„Could you all please just keep going?“ you try not to snap, but you know the irritation and exhaustion are clearly visible now.

“Let’s get drinks tonight,” you turn to Jungkook, knowing it’s no use, the weight of the day, hell the weight of the last few days, presses down on you too much, the accumulated stress leaving you wanting nothing more than to melt away in the comfort of something strong and cold.

“With the gang?” Jungkook asks still a bit shocked, but his eyes soften as they always do when you’re tired like this, as though he’s already prepared to do whatever it takes to lift your spirits.

You shrug, not really caring who tags along. “I don’t care. I just need a drink.”

Jungkook grins, nodding, and without missing a beat, he turns to the others. “Yo, we’re going out. You coming with?”

Everyone agrees with enthusiastic nods except for Hoseok, who’s laughing nervously as he looks at the clock. “This early?”

Jennie rolls her eyes at him and chimes in, “Oh come on, you can have your Sprite,” but then mutters under her breath with a mischievous smirk, “with vodka.”

You laugh softly, standing up and limping towards the locker room to change out of your scrubs. Jungkook is right there beside you after he put the cadaver into the cooler, his arm hovering protectively at your side, ready to catch you if you stumble. A line forms between his eyebrows out of concern, but you want to ease that worried look from his face, not wanting him to fret over something that feels so routine to you.

“Kook, I’m fine,” you reassure him, flashing a small smile. “I don’t feel anything; it’s just my muscle acting up.”

He shakes his head a little, his mouth pulling into a line as he watches your movements. “It’s still strange to me. All these years, I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply softly, not meeting his eyes for a second, afraid he’d discover more of what’s hidden. 

“Don’t be. It’s just a surprise, that’s all.”

After a few more steps, your leg starts to loosen up, and soon enough, you’re walking normally again. By the time you reach the familiar doors of your regular pub, it’s like nothing had ever happened.

The early evening moves swiftly, conversations flowing as easily as the drinks, everyone excepting your condition by the time food is served. The moment Jungkook and you announce that you’re dating, the group bursts into cheers and clapping, Yoongi muttering a sarcastic “about time” under his breath, though you don’t miss the glances Taehyung keeps casting in your direction, his brow creased with concern. You know it’s only a matter of time before you’ll have to talk to him, reassure him that everything’s okay—he just wants the best for you, after all. You’ll need to convince him that keeping certain things from Jungkook is still the right choice, for now at least.

Especially when Jennie, sitting beside Taehyung, is caught in the crosshairs of your teasing. Leaning back in your chair, you smirk over the rim of your drink and ask her slyly, “So, Jennie, seeing anyone lately?”

She shoots you a withering look, muttering a quick and firm “no,” while you catch the warning in her and Taehyung’s eyes. You hold back a laugh, already planning weeks of teasing them.

The night continues with light banter, and the worries and struggle of the past few days seem to dissolve into the air like the hot steam of your food. Being here with Jungkook and the rest of your friends, there’s a warmth that wraps around you, a kind of quiet contentment that settles deep in your bones. This, you think, is what you’ve needed. Just this—the laughter, the closeness, the easy way Jungkook drops his arm around your shoulder, always finding your free hand or brushing soft kisses on your temple and hair.

A few drinks in, after you and Jungkook have both had a couple of glasses, he leans in close, his voice low and almost conspiratorial. “Let’s get out of here.”

It’s not a question, and there’s something in his eyes, something inviting that makes it impossible to say no. You smile, knowing full well you’re both about to become the subject of endless teasing from your friends, but you don’t care. You bid them goodnight, waving off their playful remarks, your mind already too focused on Jungkook’s big, callused hand wrapped around yours, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room and universe worth paying attention to.

When you step outside, the night air is refreshing, cutting through the slight buzz you’ve got going from the drinks, sobering you up until there’s nothing left but happiness. The two of you walk side by side, hands swinging between you, and there’s this lightness in your chest you haven’t felt in days. You’ve always known that Jungkook brings a certain calm to your life, a kind of peace you’ve never really had before, but tonight it feels especially strong.

He’s laughing as you mimic one of your professors, trying your best to imitate the man’s deep, grumbling voice and exaggerated gestures. Jungkook throws his head back, his laugh echoing down the quiet street, and the sound of it makes your heart feel even more lighter. His hand squeezes yours as you twirl around, your movements carefree and loose, your inhibitions melting away as you let yourself bask in this moment, in him.

You leave his hand, spin a few times around a lamppost nearby, feeling the gentle night breeze on your flushed face. You’re not drunk nor buzzed anymore, just pleasantly warm, and in the soft glow of the streetlights, everything feels almost dreamlike. You’re smiling, Jungkook is too, and for once, you’re allowing yourself to be fully in the moment, free from the shadows that usually cloud your mind.

You really want this to work, really want him to know, so you start “Will you still be with me when I’ve killed someone?” The words slip out of your mouth as you spin, a strange mix of jest and sincerity lacing your tone. You try to keep the smile on your face, but there’s an uncertainty in your eyes that betrays you.

Jungkook laughs, catching your hand mid-spin, pulling you into his chest. He holds you there, his strong arms wrapping around you, his warmth enveloping you. “We’re going to be doctors,” he states with a grin. “Of course we’re going to kill someone by accident.” He pauses, brushing his thumb gently over your cheekbone as he cradles your face in his hands, his voice lowering into something tender, intimate. “And when that time comes, I’ll still be right here, standing next to you.”

Jungkook’s words repeat in your mind, and part of you aches to believe him. But there’s that vile voice inside, always nagging, always spreading doubt, reminding you of what you are, what you hide beneath it all. If he knew, would he really stay? you wonder if his patience and kindness could stretch this far, past the monster you are. It’s hard to imagine, yet you can’t help but cling to the hope that he’ll love you enough someday to not walk away. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am, because there’s nothing you could do that can make me leave.” And after a short pause, when his eyes drown you with their tenderness, he says the three words you didn’t expect. “I love you.” 

You’re floating, aren’t you? His eyes are so full of sincerity, it’s almost intoxicating, lifting you higher with every glance until you reach cloud nine where he awaits you. It’s too much, too good, but you let yourself get swept up in it, let the light of him fill you. The doubts are still there, of course, whispering their poison. But right now, you ignore them. You turn a blind eye to the darkness and deaf ears to the demon inside, because for once, you just want to feel this—this joy, this love—without the fear dragging you back down to the cold, hard floor.

„I love you too, Jeon Jungkook.“

And then he kisses you, a touch full of joy, soft with confidence and love. His lips meet yours, stealing your breath and offering his in return, and for now, everything fells right. You melt into his form, losing yourself as you gently suck on his plush bottom lip, and in that tender exchange, you feel whole.

When he parts, there’s a playful glint in his eyes „I think I forgot something.“

„Hm?“ you hum, still dazed from everything he is.

„Some weight for the 700.“ 

In one swift move, he sweeps you into his arms, cradling you effortlessly, and you can't help but laugh, breathless from the sudden rush. “You’re crazy,” you giggle, but the sound falters as you catch the predatory glint in his eyes. 

His gaze locks onto yours, and with each step he takes toward your dorm, your heart skips. “Oh, I am,” he murmurs, voice low. “Don’t think I forgot how you drooled over me.” 

Your laughter fades into silence, heat rising in your cheeks as wetness begins to pool between your thighs, his strength alone making your body respond instinctually.

When you finally make it back to the dorm and slip into your room, the space is drenched in darkness, save for the soft glow of light filtering in from the outside world. But you barely notice; all your attention is on Jungkook, his lips never leaving yours, hands roaming over each other’s clothed bodies with a heat that drowns out everything else. His breath is warm against your mouth, his tongue sliding over yours, and in each kiss, you taste him, feel him—everything he is, everything you crave.

His hands glide up your sides, fingers catching the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head, and you do the same, your eyes falling on his bare torso. You always knew he was strong, but now, with the soft light catching the curve of his muscles, it’s like he’s carved from something divine—each breath making his body shift and flex with a power that steals your breath all over again. His gaze drops to your breasts, your lace bra pushing them up, but he doesn’t linger for long before kissing you again, guiding you backwards until your legs hit the edge of your bed. You fall together, crawling onto the mattress as if you’re made for this, made for each other.

He trails kisses down your body, his lips oblivious of the scars that litter your skin in the dim lighting, and there’s a tenderness in his touch that feels almost reverent as he carefully pulls your jeans off, mindful of the fresh wound on your thigh. His hands move over your skin as though he’s worshipping you, like you’re something fragile yet unbreakable, and it’s so unfamiliar it makes you nearly tear up.

You can’t take it anymore—you grab him by the neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him back to kiss you as you fumble with his belt, his trousers quickly discarded with a kick of his leg. His lips move to your neck, tiny love confessions brushing against your skin between kisses, and when he finds the sensitive spots that make you moan, his hand slips beneath your underwear, fingers sliding over your wetness, his middle finger slipping inside you with ease as his palm presses against your clit. Your moan spills into his mouth, and he responds with a deep grunt that vibrates through his chest and into you, making your head spin even more.

“You’re so drenched,” he whispers, voice rough with desire, his finger slowly pumping in and out, each word sending waves of bliss through your body.

Your hands wander down his strong body, both of you discarding the last of your clothing in no time. His cock is to die for, long and girth like you never seen before, pulsing with dark veins making it even bigger, the tip glistening with precum. The sight makes you dizzy with want, every coherent thought slipping away as you take in the sheer beauty of him, his body and mind utter perfection.

“I love you,” you breath, pushing him gently onto his back with your small hands on his firm chest, straddling his tiny middle. Your arousal drips onto him, making him moan beneath you, his hands gripping your hips as you lean down to kiss his neck, sliding lower until your tongue teases his small, dark nipples. He bucks his hips into the air, the soft groan from his lips music to your ears.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whisper as you kiss your way down his body, eyes locking onto his cock when you finally reach it. His gaze follows you, full of lust yet still brimming with undeniable love.

You wrap your tiny hand around him, biting your lip as you keep eye contact, waiting for his reaction. His hips buck involuntarily, and that’s all the confirmation you need. You take him into your mouth, the weight of him sliding over your tongue, hitting the back of your throat as you work the rest of him with your hand. His moan fills the room, deep and guttural, one of his hands gripping the sheet while the other’s gripping your hair as he gasps, “Oh my god.”

And oh my god indeed. He tastes like heaven, feels like a dream as you pick up the pace, sucking harder, giving him everything he deserves until his abs tense and his thighs tremble. He stops you then, pulling you up to his mouth, kissing you deeply as your hands fumble for the nightstand. You quickly hand him a condom, watching as he bites it open, his hands shaking slightly as he rolls it on.

“Shouldn’t I prepare you more? It might hurt,” he murmurs, concern painting his face.

But you shake your head, kissing him softly. “I’m good. I won’t feel it,” you say, positioning yourself over him.

He pauses, his hands gripping your shoulders, eyes wide. “You won’t feel it?” he’s nearly squeaking full of disbelieve.

You laugh softly, realising your wording was off and correcting yourself. “No, I’ll feel it, just not the pain. Remember?”

Realisation floods his features, and he chuckles lightly embarrassed. “Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry.” His eyes drift down to where your juices drip onto his pelvis. “Okay.”

With that, you slowly sink down onto him, taking him inch by inch until he’s fully nestled inside you. The moan that escapes both of you is loud, filling the room as the overwhelming sensation of being joined like this crashes over you, throwing both your heads back. He fits perfectly, filling you in a way that makes everything else fade away, and when you start to move, it’s like you’re floating, flying in heaven, each drop of your hips sending you higher.

Jungkook matches your rhythm, thrusting up into you with an unrelenting drive, his stamina pushing you further and further until the room seems to shimmer in all the colours of the rainbow. You watch him, mesmerised by the way his muscles flex, the sheen of sweat on his skin making him look like some otherworldly being. And then it hits you—your climax tearing through you with a long moan as your juices spill out around him, soaking everything in their path.

Jungkook’s eyes lock with yours, his pace quickening as he chases his own release, his voice hoarse as he gasps out, “I love you,” before his orgasm hits, spilling into the condom as you ride out the waves of your own high together. It takes what feels like forever to finally come down, and when you do, you collapse onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily, hearts pounding in sync. No walls between you.

prologue • 01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • masterlist • 06

a/n 3: hope you've enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like! please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕

a/n 4: The next chapter will have a time skip, so there won’t be scenes like Jungkook’s surprise b-day party. However, drabble requests and character asks are open, though it might take me some time to write them ☺️

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