#i have like a singular mutual who does so

[diaiisms]

my revival back into dl is stupid selfshippery that i’m forcing all of you to look at <3

at the time of writing my birthday is in 44-ish minutes so i did this shitty whinter comic(?) thing bc yeah he is very dear to me <3

(doodling on phone is hard >:/) || also ignore my shitty handwriting.

[ikeukiss]

HIGHER THAN HEAVEN | 최수빈

⟢ PAIRING: choi soobin x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 10.3K ⟢ GENRE: fluff, angst, smut ⟢ TAGS: guardian angel!soobin, human!reader, mutual pining, sexual tension, dirty talking, nipple play, chest worship, fingering, unprotected sex ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Soobin, your devoted guardian angel, has one singular purpose in his ethereal existence: to bring your heart's deepest desires to life. Unbeknownst to him, his mere presence fulfills that desire. Yet, the lingering question remains— how can he effectively transform your most intimate dreams into reality? LINK TO PLAYLIST! ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: First fic of 2025! I’d like to thank @lovetaroandtaemin, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @ylangelegy, @gyubakeries, and @xomakara for beta-reading this fic for me, I know it was a quick journey and I appreciate every one of you who followed the story from the beginning to the end 🤍.

The time fills as plastic shot glasses and empty solo cups discarded into trash bags. Some stragglers of the party lay on the couch or floor, but you pass by them with ease. You sigh before Beomgyu stops you with a sharp tug. "Dude, you don't have to help me. You're supposed to be one of my guests!"

"I'm just avoiding the inevitable tomorrow. And if you come into the shelter late because you procrastinated cleaning your own apartment, I may just kill you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it, boss.” He rolls his eyes and unfurls the empty bag you had between your hands moments before. You giggle in earnest.

“If I get a single text, Gyu–”

“Why don’t you enjoy the early morning hours of New Year's and get out of here?" He shoves you towards the door of his apartment with an "I love you” to follow you out, determined to do what you swear he won't without your help.

Beomgyu may be your childhood friend, but habits hold on tight with him. It’s clear from the three years he’s worked at your animal shelter. Your parents always said he has good intentions, although he’s brash in decision-making. "The kid just asks for forgiveness more than permission most of the time," your dad would joke, and Beomgyu wouldn’t disagree.

Your parents’ words replay in your head on the walk home. You hear every piece of parental advice with each step on the cobblestones, the clack or your heels accompanying every word. It's customary on New Years to feel the ache of their absence so strongly. Your thoughts of them are as vivid as the pain of their loss. It seems to haunt you more with every year that passes.

One day, you had been tagging new intakes and cleaning food bowls like normal. The next you were receiving the call that your parents had been in a fatal car accident. Every space they inhabited, including the shelter, felt colder, quieter, a little less like home. Even your own house twenty minutes from your job barely felt like your own.

Five years of grief made the pain manageable, but on nights like tonight, it doesn’t feel like you’ve made much progress..

The cold of January accompanies the repetitive emotional and mental cycle you're on. The weather bites with a hard set of teeth, almost more brutal than the traces of sadness you feel in your heart.

You don’t realize amid the somber trek home how close the surrounding shadows are, one of a stranger within an arm’s distance.

Your animals greet you at your door with perky barks and whooshing tails. Mina and Minho, your two tabby cats, seem to be delighted that you’re back, but save the ecstatic greetings for their canine siblings. Key, your senior chihuahua, does what he can energy-wise compared to Bori, your labrador mix.

“Bobo, please,” you beg as she jumps up on you when you kneel at her eye-level. It’s all a mess of slobbering tongue and eager pants with her. Once she’s done, you rub Key between the ears to give him some affection.

Even your hedgehog, Rio, taps against the glass of his enclosure to say hello to you. It’s almost like every pair of animal eyes asks you how the party went and why you left them alone for so long.

You can’t supply them with an answer, because you notice the person-shaped figure at your kitchen counter, silent and clouded in darkness. The sight makes you release a decibel-breaking scream.

You grab an umbrella from the iron wrack near your door and charge to the kitchen, expecting Key and Bori to follow you and bark aggressively at the intruder. They don’t, but they do pad behind you in curiosity at your strange actions.

They barely react at all when you turn on the light in the small kitchen. The new illumination reveals the black-haired stranger dressed in white. He says nothing, but holds a smile of mirth on his face at your line of defense. He's neither scrawny nor muscular, but towers over you to a surreal degree. 

You think you can take him if you have the element of surprise, but with the alcohol still buzzing through your veins, you may lack complete hand-eye coordination. It’s anyone’s guess.

“What do you want? If you’re looking for money, you got the wrong house, buddy.” You say with a steady voice, aiming the sharpest point of the umbrella in his direction.

He smiles wide, pearly teeth and a set of dimples almost blinding you. “I’m Soobin.”

His lack of an answer and warm smile throw you off. It’s definitely not the reaction anyone expects from a burglar. Maybe the guy's intoxication is even greater than yours, enabling him to enter someone's home without permission. No matter the reasons, you don’t release your hold on the umbrella. You stare him down hard despite your shaking hands.

“Well…Soobin…I don’t know what you want, but you’re not gonna find it here.”

“I’m in the exact place I need to be.” He says your name with the same level of warmth that remains in his smile, but your blood runs cold at the fact he is aware of who you are. Was he stalking you? Had he stopped by the animal shelter while you were too busy to make a mental note of him? “Put down the umbrella and we–”

“Get the fuck out of my house, you creep!” You raise the umbrella as high as you can before it falls on his head, shoulders, or any location on his body that will stun him. He knows it’s coming, though.

Soobin somehow materializes right in front of you before you can step forward, taking your wrists gently in one hand to stop you. “There’s no need for that. I’m not here to harm you.”

You struggle in his hold, trying your hardest to release yourself from his grip with all of your might. Then, you freeze, unsure of how both his speed and his lack of alarm to your furry animals makes any logical sense.

Soobin senses your lack of effort to go through with your attack and lets go of you, taking a small breath of air. “Will you drop the umbrella?”

“Once you tell me what you are,” you whisper. “My dogs would have ripped off your ankles by now, but they didn’t. Why?”

Soobin chuckles, but you feel anything but humorous. “The why to that question is a bit hard to explain. But I can tell you why I’m here.” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly bashful. “Let’s just say I have a mission to complete.”

Soobin sits at one end of the couch, hands in his lap, while you sit on the other. Your dogs lay at the edge of the couch, snoring peacefully now that the chaos is over. Your knees sit tight against your chest, still guarding yourself from him or any potential advances he may make.

You may not think he wants to kill or rob you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re immediately trusting of the stranger. One that is no doubt breathtaking, but still hiding his intentions.

You size him up, still unsure how or why the guy is familiar with you when you’ve never seen him before. He can barely provide you with an adequate answer for the questions that pop into your head.

Where are you from? How do you know me? Have we ever met before?

He chuckles at each one, continuing on with the same reflexive response. “Proprietary information.”

You roll your eyes. “Every time you say that, you sound like some kind of spy.” You move closer to his spot on the couch, looking at him with more intensity than before. 

The analysis makes him laugh even more, his cheeks turning pink. “I’m not an alien, if that was your second guess.”

“That’s not what I was thinking!”

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “You look like you’re about to cut me open with a scalpel.”

Your lips transform into a firm line. “Should I want to, Soobin? Maybe you’re saying you’re not an alien to throw me off.”

“Trust me, I am not an extraterrestrial. Not cool enough.”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation you find yourself in, matching the smile on Soobin’s face with your own. An hour ago, you were about to kill him in self-defense for what you assumed was a classic break-in scenario. Now, you’re laughing with your would-be victim. This has to be the most peculiar first day of the year you’ve ever had.

He claps his hands softly on his white denim jeans. “We should call it a night. You’re probably tired. I can explain more tomorrow, if you’d like.”

You look around your house, unsure where Soobin is planning to stay for the next few hours. The one-bed-and-bath cottage is anything but roomy, most of your space taken up by work supplies or your animals’ stuff.

He senses your trepidation and grins. “Don’t worry, I can come back in the morning.”

You suck in a breath. Most of you feels relief, but there’s a small inkling of sadness that pervades your emotions. You barely know Soobin, but his presence provides a warmth that your home has been missing.

It has to be the last traces of alcohol and the simmering grief still in your system.

“Okay. I have work in the morning, but–”

“I’ll be here before you have to leave,” Soobin cuts you off. He holds his hand out in a goodbye, and you take it. His soft palm meets yours and heats your skin, and you have to cut the parting short to not feel any more flustered.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, love.” He leaves you with one more grin before he exits, confusing you further. 

The touch of his fingertips on you follows you into sleep, his skin the last coherent sensation you have before it all goes black.

There is a murky quality to the dream you find yourself in. You’re surrounded by grey, the color’s opacity fading only partly as the details become clearer.

The room around you looks more like a cavern than a traditional room. It’s made of stone, cavelike and primitive. The entrance to the area is too vast for a normal door. It’s almost as if you could step out and fall into nothing but clouds. The world outside is a mixture of inky blacks and dark blues, signifying nighttime outside the four rocky walls.

You look back to the inside of the space. It holds a desk covered with paperwork and photographs. You’re alone, standing in the center of it all, but too far away from the papers on the table to see any information.

Before you can step closer, Soobin enters with a blonde man hot on his heels. They both walk right through you, seemingly not noticing your presence at all as they continue their discussion. 

They emit their own light somehow, the room nowhere near as dark as when you were alone inside of it.

“If you fail at this, Yeonjun will demote you and have no qualms about doing it.” The blonde man ruffles his hair in frustration, and inches closer to Soobin. They clearly have a close relationship, from the concern on the stranger’s face to the hand that he rests on Soobin's shoulder. “You’ve worked too hard to lose everything, Soobin.”

“I know, Hyuka,” Soobin says in a somber tone, sorting through the papers on his desk. “But she needs me now more than ever. And I know I can help. And if I succeed, I can actually—“

“I get it. We’re just not supposed to get involved unless we’re certain about it. You know this.”

Soobin sighs. “You didn’t see her, Kai. I have to.”

The man named Kai exhales a deep breath and walks away, his pleas seeming to hit a brick wall. The last thing he says, “I hope you know what you’re risking,” barely makes it to your ears. All you notice before Kai’s departure is the unfurling of wings from his back, the white and gray feathers spouting from the tendons just below his shoulders.

You scream when he drops from the entrance, his wings carrying him away. You don’t care if the sound alerts either of the two men, not after witnessing such an unrealistic moment.

You scream again when you hear the unfurling of Soobin’s wings, the sound almost whipping you onto your back from the gust his wings emit. They’re dark grey, larger than Kai’s are. They create such long-casting shadows that you have no question now what Soobin is or where he comes from.

The word replays in your mind as the surrounding scene dematerializes and you wake up with a rapid heartbeat: an angel.

Soobin waits at your door in the same white button-up and jeans he had on the night prior. You welcome him inside, and he looks more ethereal somehow in daylight. 

The dream hits you again with its full force, the image of his grey wings flashing across your memory.

“So, you’re an angel,” You say, filling the space between you both with a new tension. The anxiety only permeates from you; Soobin exudes an air of calm instead, despite your accusation.

He almost ticks his head down in a nod as he responds with the words, “Proprietary information.”

You nod your head and gulp hard. Somehow, the aura around you and the subtext in his expression tells you what you know to be true.

He showed you all you needed to know last night through your dreams, a miraculous loophole to the restrictions placed upon him.

When you’re finally ready to go to work, the morning chores around the house finished before Soobin even made it to your doorstep, you look over at the man in front of you again with trepidation. The white attire may lead to a multitude of questions that you and Soobin cannot answer.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Soobin asks, confused.

You laugh and shake your head, any residual tension from your realization broken. “You look a bit too…uniform for the shelter.”

“Oh! Well…” He blushes, unsure how to respond.

An idea pops into your head when his words come up short. “I may have some old stuff that’ll fit you.”

“Why is the rando wearing your dad’s windbreaker?” Beomgyu asks while cleaning Jin, the newest adoptee at the shelter. His eyes peer over at Soobin filling some food bowls with kibble. Soobin’s presence fills the space the same way it did in your house.

He wears your dad’s long-sleeve shirt, windbreaker, and khaki pants well. Despite his freakishly tall height, the clothes don’t look small on him, and you’re relieved he’s able to fit in like any normal guy with the change in wardrobe.

You scoff, continuing to fill out the documents for Jin’s tag and vaccinations without looking up at your friend. “Soobin’s new in town and lost everything on the plane ride here. He just needed to borrow some stuff until his luggage gets delivered.”

Beomgyu nods, still concerned. He goes back to scrubbing Jin’s coat with the anti-tick shampoo, and you leave his spot at the cleaning station to stand beside Soobin.

“You do this every day? These bags are heavy, even for me.” Soobin grunts and clips the bag closed.

“I usually make Gyu or another volunteer do it. But you saved me the trouble of asking.” You smirk and take two of the bowls in your hands. “Want to help me feed the dogs?”

Soobin’s eyes light up, and he nods. You wonder as you walk to the cages if he’s ever interacted with animals before he left his home in the skies.

Since you were a kid, the shelter has always been a part of your daily regimen. Once college was out of the way, you had a stable job waiting for you to practice your veterinary degree on. While some could only handle so many cat scratches, dog poops, and absurd origin stories, it made every day worth it in your eyes. And the fact that you had a history with tending to furry friends with your parents only made it more worthwhile to continue doing.

The second you open the cages to let the dogs eat, you recognize how natural Soobin is at the job. He talks to them in a childlike voice and rubs their bellies as they munch on kibble and necessary medicines you give in between feeding. Even the dogs with the rougher backgrounds take to Soobin like a bee to honey, the warmth he naturally exudes relaxing them.

He truly is an angel, you realize, and not just in the literal sense.

You lock up the shelter for the day with a lot less weight on your shoulders thanks to Soobin. “I might as well give you the keys to this place. It suits you well,” you joke.

Soobin tucks his hands into his windbreaker, smiling hard. “It just came easy, I guess. Animals aren’t like people. They don’t have to hide behind words. It’s all about energy.”

You look at him as you walk away from the building together, your face softened from his words. “My mom always used to say stuff like that. To her, animals were the bestest friends you could ever ask for. She’d say it’s like they see into your soul.”

Soobin grins. “She seems lovely.”

You swallow hard, balling your hands into fists inside your jacket. It’s not anger that permeates your body now, not the way it used to. All that exists is the reality that their words are simply memories. “She was. My dad too. That place was their second home.” You wave your arm in the direction of the shelter. The building diminishes from view as you round the corner to head home. “And mine, too.”

“Did you envision this being your life?” Soobin asks, the question taking you by surprise. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay!” You laugh. “I mean—I love working with the animals every day, and I have great friends. It just can be very routine sometimes, like there’s this gap that I can’t fill.” You hold back the more intimate details of your desires to Soobin, still guarded and uncertain of being so vulnerable so soon.

He steps closer, the walk becoming more intimate with his shoulder almost brushing yours. “You’ve been alone for quite a while. It’s understandable to want to share your life with someone.”

You blush hard, a mixture of the January cold and his correct assumptions building a steady heat on your cheeks. “That’s what most people want, I guess.”

Eyes widening, you realize now why Soobin may be discussing these things with you. Could his super secret mission, which he discussed the night you met, relate to right now?

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, stopping on the stone street. Soobin only gets a few paces farther than you before he stops.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks, his eyebrows drawn up and his mouth in a small O that you would normally giggle at.

Now, you have no time for humor.

“Did you come here because of the stupid wish I made on New Year’s Eve?”

“Taehyun, if you give me another shot, I will throw up!” You exclaim in a fit of giggles, three drinks already in your system over the last hour and a half. His girlfriend, Kazuha, stands by your side as she downs the shot in her hand, her mouth puckering as she swallows it down. “Zu, I thought you were the DD tonight!”

“Fuck it, I’ll call an Uber.” She winks and chases the shot with a sip of beer. Beomgyu wades through the throng of people in his living room to join all of you in the kitchen.

“Taking shots without me? That’s a party foul.”

“Whatever, man. It’s not like we can’t make more.” Taehyun passes him one filled with tequila to catch up, and Beomgyu downs it in the next second. By the time the buzz of the drinks hits your head, Jungwon barrels into the kitchen with his own girlfriend Yeri to tell you all that the ball is dropping.

Everyone crowds around the television to watch the remaining minute of the year play out. The strangers around you scream out the last seconds, others speak in a drunken lilt.

You turn to your friends, somehow the only person without someone attached to their hip. Beomgyu is holding a random girl's shoulder, while your other friends stand closely together in their respective couples, watching the countdown..

“Four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!” Beomgyu says the words into his date’s neck before kissing her roughly on the lips. Your other friends have their own celebratory make-out sessions. You feel like an intruder as they all enjoy the moment in their respective couples.

You’ve never been a grouch about your single status, not once. But it felt like a part of you was missing out with little of a choice in the matter. Whether by the confines of chance or love simply not being meant for you for the past twenty-seven years, you can only be comfortable for so long before the pain of solitude drains you dry.

Was it so awful to want to find someone to share funny videos with? To talk to about days at the shelter when a cute animal comes in and needs a loving home? When days are heavy on your heart and you need the one you love the most to lift you up and make it all evaporate with a simple “I love you”? To make every struggle and hardship, no matter how big or small, worth it?

And so, with only a drunken mind and heart to listen to your deepest whims, you wish for what seems the most out of reach as your eyes line with tears: a soulmate to bridge the gap between your loneliness and true fulfillment.

When the reality of why Soobin’s here hits you, you can’t help but release one of the loudest laughs you’ve ever emitted before.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” you say with exasperated breaths, all the air in your lungs saved mostly for your laughter. “You came all the way from up there to play matchmaker?”

Soobin chuckles to himself, the sounds that leave his lips a lot quieter than yours. “You make it sound so childish.”

“Can you blame me?” You ask. “I don’t need help in that department!”

Soobin gives you a knowing look, hitting you somewhere deep in the chest. “Then I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

“Okay, don’t speak in riddles to me!”

“I’m just stating facts, love.”

You roll your eyes, and Soobin laughs again. “So you’re magically going to find me the perfect partner after only knowing me for 48 hours?”

“I’ve known you for much longer than that.” He steps even closer to you, your fingers brushing his as he stands a few inches from you. “But again, it’s—“

“Proprietary information, I get it,” you whisper. You cough into your fist and glide past him, the moment broken. “Either way, I am just fine with or without a boyfriend, Soobin.”

He follows behind without a word, but you sense his smile without looking at him. Jerk.

Soobin has helped many people in his immortal life. It’s an existence he couldn’t fill in just one book. He’d have to go back centuries to the very moment he started his work as a guardian. His life began long before that, but his true merits came when he started helping those who needed supernatural guidance.

He’s seen from his eagle’s eye view many heartbreaks, losses, successes, and love stories, but nothing as encapsulating as the story of your life.

You were a vision to see the first time you held an animal in your hands, hands tepid but heart full from the creature giving all of its affection to you for you to reciprocate wholeheartedly. He was in awe of you when you stepped across the stage with your degree, eager to put all the knowledge you gained about medicine to a good use. And his ever-still heart ached with yours the second you got that phone call in November five years ago, wanting nothing more than to catch you before your knees hit the tile below.

You’re the one assignment he’s kept too close an eye on, the others in his caseload not holding his focus so strongly. He succumbed to forbidden desires, wishes he knew were unattainable.

But the second he felt your heart break on the one night he knew he could seize the chance to step over the border between Heaven and Earth, he chose the only option that felt right: he had to leave home and heal what needed to be mended inside of you a long time ago.

He watches you help the teenage girl adopting her first pet with immense adoration. 

You check off the supplies needed for Jin and all the vaccines the dog will need moving forward with clinical focus. It’s admirable how dedicated you are to your work, not caring if it went beyond the bounds of a traditional work-life balance.

And when you wave the teenager and her parents out the door and turn to him with a signature eye-roll, he can’t stop the way his skin heats. Your gaze in his direction screams: How long are you going to keep pestering me?

Forever, he says to himself with a hell of a lot of hope.

When you’re both alone in the shelter, one hour after you’re closed for the day, you sweep the floors in a huff. “I am telling you I do not need you to play matchmaker for me.”

“You keep saying that and yet I’m still here, love,” Soobin tuts, flipping through the magazine on top of your desk. He sits at the chair opposite from the receptionist counter so casually, feet crossed and casual despite his heart yearning to explain everything to you.

I’m here because I can’t take any more of your pain. Because someone deserves to know how special you are. Because I—

“I can find a date without your help. Beomgyu already took up that role a long time ago. He’s been pestering me about going out with his friend Heeseung for months. So there.” You stick your tongue out at him and continue sweeping.

Soobin chuckles to himself and flips to another page of the magazine, but he can’t deny how his focus remains on you, the center of his attention, for longer than he expected.

“Lee Heeseung, twenty-two. Works at the ramen shop downtown. Entirely incompatible with you. Just for your information.”

You stop sweeping and aim an accusatory eye at him. “And that’s not proprietary information how?”

“I’m not looking out for him. And that only took a couple of Google searches to figure out, love.”

By the time you lock up the store, Soobin is in the habit of checking the door behind you to make sure you didn’t miss the back door or forget to close the play-gate on the way out. Two weeks of observing your routine up close has given him incredible intel, and not just into your schedule.

“Let’s walk past downtown,” Soobin suggests, taking your hand and walking through a new pattern of alleyways and cobblestone paths. 

You’re unsure why this route that adds another ten minutes to your walk is worth the trouble, but you take his advice, anyway. He’s your angel for a reason, after all.

“Soobin, unless you suddenly got a hankering for human food, we really should—“

You knock into someone’s shoulders hard; the impact sends you to the gravel. Soobin vanishes from view, his name on your tongue the second you recognize that you’re on the ground.

A pair of hands that aren’t Soobin’s, more calloused and robust, lift you up off the ground.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the alleyway.”

A beautiful pair of brown eyes gaze at yours, and it stops you dead in your tracks. The stranger’s brown hair falls over his face in a mess of free curls, some of them tinged with sweat. He wears a baking apron around his waist; flour and, you presume, icing cover his shirt.

You look at the building next to you, the pastel pink sign reading “Gyu’s Baked Goods” beaming over your head. And you turn back to the man in question, the baker himself as his hands keep you sturdy on your scraped feet.

“It’s totally fine. I’m the one who should be sorry. I mean, I wasn’t looking anyway and I—“

“No, you don’t have to apologize. This is what I get for taking a smoke break when I have cupcakes to make, right?” The baker chuckles and releases you. Your heart thumps at a rapid tempo when he holds his hand out to you. “I’m Mingyu. Sorry I’m built like a mountain.”

You chuckle and take his hand, the handshake gentle for the size of his palm. It reminds you of a sturdy fireplace, strong but tender. “Pleased to meet you. Apologies for having the build of a leaf.”

Soobin looks on with a knot in his stomach from an opposite alleyway. The process has begun, and he cannot halt its progress. No matter if he wants to be the one in the human male’s place.

Soobin watches on as Mingyu stands with you by the kennels, acid simmering on his tongue from watching the two of you in such a chummy position.

He clutches the novel in his hands with intense pressure, on the edge of ripping pages between his fingers. For the past week and a half, you and Mingyu have spent time together as new acquaintances, giving Sobbing time to read mortal literature.

He should be happy for you; his initial plan to find someone who fits your life and wishes so well is going perfectly. Yet why does he wish he could rewind time and take it back?

To your pleasure and Soobin’s secret dismay, Mingyu’s surprise gift of homemade mini animal treats made the day an amazing experience for all three of you.

You pay no mind to Soobin’s sudden and off-putting sulking as you show Mingyu around the animal shelter, your new friend interested in your job as much as you’re intrigued by him.

Beomgyu saunters up to Soobin with a bag of kibble in his hands, clicking his tongue. “It’s tough, isn’t it, man?”

Soobin huffs and looks at the younger man, the aura around your friend similar to his back home. If only Kai could see him now, grumbling and pouting like a kicked puppy. 

“What is?”

“Seeing the girl you like with someone else. I mean, she’s pretty great so I get it.”

Soobin rolls his eyes and goes back to the novel in his hands to distract himself. His jaw ticks when he hears your laughter. The sound creates such a beautiful symphony to his ears, but it’s not reserved for him at the moment, and it makes his stomach turn. “You’re wrong.”

“Okay, dude. I get it. None of my business.” Beomgyu lifts the bag over his shoulder and starts walking, but looks back at Soobin with a smirk. “But maybe it might be mutual if you gave it a shot.”

Soobin scoffs at the kid, and then at himself for the split second he entertains the idiot’s idea. Soobin can pine all he wants, but he knows the boundaries. A multitude of reasons prevent this line from ever being crossed.

He may have incredibly powerful feelings for you, but they’re hidden away and unable to reach the light of day. Not just because he has a strategy for you and Mingyu, but he is not an acceptable suitor because he doesn’t belong here, simply put. Earth is only a temporary stay on his list. And when he goes back and reports to Yeonjun of his success, who knows what will happen?

All he knows is that your paths will cross only once in his and your lifetime, and never again.

Soobin almost remains stuck in his misery until you walk up to him with an orange icing-colored dog bone treat in your hands. You hold it out to him with a shy smile. “For you.”

He smirks, taking the snack from you and rotating it between his fingers. “Isn’t this for the dogs, love?”

And the signature eye roll comes, your bottom lip between your teeth as you do it. “They’re organic. Anyone can eat them.” You look back at him directly, suddenly concerned. “You can eat, right?”

He chuckles. Nodding his head, he looks back at the snack. “Just not sure if I’ll like it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Just try it, please?”

Reluctantly, he bites down. Sweet potatoes and carrots, harmoniously blended, flood his mouth. The icing and pinch of cinnamon provides the perfect level of sweetness to round it all out, and Soobin groans. Even the dog treats the guy makes are perfect.

“Okay, it’s pretty great,” Soobin admits, taking another bite. “Even if they’re meant for dogs.”

You laugh and take a tiny corner for yourself. “At least you can say you’ve eaten a dog bone.”

Soobin’s tender smile makes you blush, and it stirs up all the feelings you’ve suppressed when you’re not in his presence. Mingyu’s a welcome distraction from it all. His looks and personality are undeniably attractive, but you always circle back to the angel in your midst.

Who can blame you? He’s ethereal, his magnetism undeniable. But that warmth he’s had from the first day you met is why you can only stay away for so long. He’s a part of your world now, and you can’t imagine that changing in the foreseeable future.

He’s made his place on Earth with you, and you dread the day he has to go back to where he belongs.

The end of January brings the last time for branches to stay vacant of leaves. You notice the small sprouts of leaves amidst the brown limbs as you and Soobin walk back to your house. You bite back a smile, and Soobin comments on it.

It’s like he clenches your heart between his fingers as he says it. “You always hide your excitement like nobody should be watching. Like it’s wrong to be happy about the little things.”

You blush while strolling beside him. “It’s not that I’m hiding it. Maybe I just don’t think anyone will get why I’m happy about certain things.”

Soobin bumps you with his shoulder, a close-mouthed smile on his lips. “Try me.”

You exhale a breath to get your bearings. “Okay, so everyone is always excited about the start of the new year. But then it’s like the excitement dies down and we just go on our merry way until the next holiday comes up. It’s not in the days for me. It’s the environment that always makes me feel the shift, you know?

“Like with animals, almost. The energy is unique, and I feel it when I see the colors and feel the temperature fluctuate.” You shake your head and tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “That may sound stupid, but—“

Soobin stops you on the open sidewalk, taking your hand in his. He looks into your eyes earnestly, wanting you to take his words to heart before he says them. “Nothing you’ve ever said to me is stupid, love. Every thought you have is beautiful because it’s yours.”

Like the town greenery, something shifts inside of you then. Even on the rest of the walk home and the talk over dinner about the day at the shelter, you sense an unfamiliar emotion swirling in the air between you and Soobin. You can’t name it, but it reminds you of the first blooms of spring, brimming with promise.

The first week of February comes in a tidal wave. Many people flood the animal shelter looking for the perfect furry friend to complete their family on the cusp of Valentine’s Day.

All you can hope for is that a majority of them, or at least fifty percent, don’t come back to the shelter after the holiday is over to return the animals looking for forever homes. 

That was the one thing that bugged you the most about this job: biting your tongue at the obvious lack of responsibility people put into owning pets.

It holds more weight than anyone knows, bringing another being in your home to tend to like a child. The only difference is that many of them have histories that deserve more care than normal, and some don’t want to put in the right amount of effort.

You sit on these thoughts as Soobin holds the newest cat to the shelter in his hands. “Have you thought of a name for Mr. Cat yet?” Soobin inspects the spot near the cat’s tail. “Or Missus?”

You giggle and grab the clipboard with the cat’s information on it. “He’s a he, Soob. You can come up with a name.”

He ponders the choices, before his smile grows and he presses his nose to the cat’s. “How about Hyuka?” He rubs the back of the cat’s ears tenderly.

You grin at Soobin and brush your fingers over Hyuka’s fur. “I think it’s a perfect fit.”

Soobin looks over at you with bright eyes, his expression transforming into one that feels like the one you held that day so long ago when he called your thoughts beautiful. A question forms on his tongue, but it flits away the second Mingyu walks through the double doors of the animal shelter with a bouquet of daisies.

At least the jerk knows your favorite flowers, Soobin thinks to himself as he walks with Hyuka back to his block in the back room.

You smile at Mingyu and thank him for the flowers, immediately pressing your nose to them to inhale their smell. “They’re amazing, thank you.”

“My buddy Wonwoo is a florist, so don’t thank me too much. I got a discount even though I should’ve paid full price.”

“Can’t beat a couple bucks off.” You set the bundle down on your desk and cross your arms over the countertop. “I take it you’re not just here to deliver flowers?”

Mingyu chuckles and presses a hand to his neck, his toned biceps stretching out his shirt. “Actually, I was going to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s.”

You stumble on your explanation, discussing the closure of the shelter for the holiday. “Well,” Mingyu starts, “I was thinking you could come by for dinner. And I promise it won’t just be me making you taste test cupcakes again.”

You laugh, but the sound falls flat. You had always been the one pining, yearning for the boy you liked to like you back. Being on the other side of the coin was not exactly ideal. “Mingyu, you know I appreciate you and I am flattered, but…”

Soobin.

You’re unsure how to continue, but Mingyu holds a hand up in understanding. “I get it. How about I make you a meal, anyway? Consider it a friend treating a friend for all of her hard work.”

You blush and nod. “I’d like that very much.”

You’re washing dried-up wet food from the cat bowls when Soobin walks up to you, his face red. By the time Mingyu left, you expected Soobin to come back to your side so you could wash the dishes together. You did it yourself, seeing as he took forever to come back. Soobin asks with a tone of authority, “What the hell are you thinking?”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, contemplating. “I’m thinking Hyuka’s chances of getting adopted before Valentine’s is about—“

“You know that wasn’t what I meant, love.” He says the pet name with annoyance as he drops one bowl into the sink next to you. His tone catches you off guard, not expecting to see Soobin angry for the first time like this.

“You asked me what I was thinking, and I’m telling you.”

“Why did you say no to the date?” Soobin asks, his eyes blazing with fury. Something without a name sits below though, you can tell.

“I, technically, didn’t say no. It’s just more friendly than romantic.”

“Do you expect me to find you another soulmate like this?” Soobin drops another dirty plate in the sink for you to clean up. You don’t know if the question is exactly for you or for himself.

The tension sits thickly in the air, the running tap the only sound for a good minute or two. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you respond, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

Your cheekiness makes Soobin chuckle deeply. You missed his laugh, you realize, not hearing the sound in a while. Not since before Mingyu came around. “What am I gonna do with you, love?”

You shrug and go back to washing the bowls, hiding your smile behind soap suds and dishwater.

Soobin’s leg shakes as he sits on your couch, watching the clock on the spot above your door. 10:49 PM. He’s been waiting for hours to welcome you home from your “friendly” date with Mingyu. Admittedly, he’s been waiting since the second you left, the night of Valentine’s Day on the forefront of his brain since he heard the meathead ask you to have dinner.

Minho and Key keep him company, the older animals in your horde understanding and patient while Soobin mopes around. The angel feels as impatient as Bori can be when she has to wait for dinner.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Soobin says to Key, the chihuahua’s overbite hanging almost like a taunt. “I’m not stewing.”

He’s definitely stewing. The animals must be saying to each other, conspiring about what will occur when their mother finally gets home.

And on the cusp of eleven, you walk into the house and unbuckle your heels. You watch Soobin on the couch, his hands fidgeting on his lap. “Have you been sitting there for three hours?” You ask in a cute tone that drives Soobin nuts.

“No, I made the animals dinner.” You set your bag on the iron wrack where your coats lie, and throw your shoes in some corner of the living room before Soobin continues with, “So, how was the date?”

You stride to the mirror, beginning to unclasp the flashy studs in your ears. “It was fine. Nothing special. Just two friends having dinner.”

“That’s all it was? No candles at the table, no romantic music, nothing?”

“Why are you so concerned, Soobin? I went out, I had fun, now I’m home.” Soobin’s not prepared to hear your voice so clipped and direct. Your frustration is usually a mask of humor or concern. Not genuine anger, like right now. You don’t look at him directly, continuing to remove your jewelry as your ire grows.

You try to de-escalate the argument by retreating to the kitchen, but he only follows you there. And moving back into the living doesn’t help either. “Stop following me, Soobin!”

“Stop running away,” he barks back.

“I will when you stop making a big deal out of this.”

“It is a big deal,” he says with a scoff. “And am I not allowed to worry about you and who you’re with?” He asks with a bite that matches your irritation.

“Why are you so concerned if Mingyu’s the person you wanted to set me up with in the first place?”

“Don’t ask me that question,” he whispers. His jaw tightens and his hands clam up, but you don’t give in. If he wants to finish the discussion, then you’ll continue to press him for an answer.

“Why? What kind of ‘proprietary information’ relates to how you feel about this? What does me going out with Mingyu and you being a complete ass about it have anything to do with top-secret intel?”

“I love you, alright?!” He yells, standing stock still as his veins pulse in his head and neck. His hands go to the messy strands of his hair, almost like he feels himself going crazy at his own confession. “I did not mean to, and it’s awful. I can’t give you the life you deserve. Someone like Mingyu or any other human man would be lucky to have you, yet I can barely stomach the thought of someone else getting to touch you in all the ways I wish I could. And it’s driving me insane.”

The confession knocks something loose inside of you, remaining inhibitions be damned if it means now that the feelings Soobin harbors mirror your own without a doubt. 

You step closer to him, the tension almost too much to bear any longer. You press your hands to his neck, and bring him closer until your lips are a mere inch apart. “Nothing and nobody’s stopping you, Soobin.”

He takes a deep breath to hold himself back,  grounding himself so he doesn’t do something that will upend both of your worlds. “You don’t know that, love.”

You chuckle softly. “Maybe not, but I do know that I love you too.”

When you brush his mouth with your own, every being in the universe, heavenly or not, ceases to exist in your mind. It’s only you and Soobin in your own world. You want to kick yourself for taking so long to seize this moment, this kiss, with him. For all of the reasons Soobin supplies as to why it’s wrong for the two of you to be together, this could not feel more right.

Soobin only gives himself a second of separation from you to catch his breath before he dives back in for one, two, three more kisses. He moans eagerly into your mouth. He tugs on the fabric of your dress to occupy his hands, his body hungry for any contact he can get.

Heavens do be damned, if it means he can keep you between his arms and against his lips. 

Your back hits the bed as Soobin attaches his lips to your neck. The dogs scratch at the locked door of your bedroom, but you know they’ll give up after another minute of waiting for a result that will never come. You have other priorities to tend to.

Soobin’s lips and teeth mark you up as he travels along your skin with his mouth. He removes your dress and his shirt so your skin is in closer contact, the feeling of his every present warmth lighting you from the inside out. Your undergarments are still in the way, but you know they’ll be discarded soon.

“You do not know how many days I wished for this,” he mumbles into the spot between your breasts, his kisses setting you on fire to the point you can barely tell where he’s going next. He unclasps the clips holding your bra together, your top half now bare for his eyes to witness.

He marvels at the fullness of your chest before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He licks at the skin as he suckles. The action pulls a moan from your lips, your body thrusting up at nothing but open air.

“You can touch me in other ways, Soobin,” you gasp, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers.

He blushes a deep crimson, releasing your nipple from his lips. “I don’t know how,” he admits.

You take his hand to guide lower to the top of your underwear, urging him to slip his hand inside. He does so, immediately finding the wetness of your folds against his fingertips. “You can move them around—just like that.” 

He takes your advice and expertly finds your clit to take between his thumb and index finger. Your hips buck up into his touch, and he smirks against your lips. He asks, “Is this what you like?”

“Yes, please.” He takes your underwear off to freely glide his fingers in and out of you, three of the digits simultaneously filling you but leaving you aching for more. “Please, Soobin, please,” you beg.

“What do you want, my love? Don’t hold back.”

“I want you inside of me,” you confess. He listens to your request without question. Unbuckling his pants, his cock springs free to make your eyes linger to the bottom half of his body. You don’t guess for long what it feels like, as he immediately sinks into you to make your eyelids flutter.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim, pressing your hands to his lower back, pushing him in deeper until he’s filling you to the hilt.

“You feel amazing.” Soobin says the words against your lips as he thrusts for the first time. He pulls completely before slipping back in, groaning the entire way.

While you appreciate the slow movement of his body against yours, not too eager to rush the experience, you cling to him with eager fingers, hoping the message will come across. “Soobin, go faster.”

You’ve only ever been with two other men in your life, two lackluster experiences in college you wished to forget. All the time between now was just a waiting game, you only willing to go the distance when you felt it was with the right person. And it seems like all the failures in your history have led you to this perfect blip in time.

Like Soobin can read your mind, he slows down just enough so he can whisper to you, “It’s always been you. It’s only ever been you.”

You can’t help the tear that forms in your eye, but it’s quickly kissed away with Soobin’s lips on your cheek and, subsequently, your mouth.

“I’m gonna come, Soobin. Please don’t stop.” His hips work faster, his thumb pressing down and rubbing your clit harder, and you can barely feel your body before it lights up in every area.

Your toes curl, your mouth slacks, and your soul explodes as the pleasure overtakes you. You feel empty yet so full from the endorphins released from your orgasm.

Soobin continues to move his hips against yours. His pace stutters, signaling his own release. He captures his lips with yours as he spills inside of you, your body his to claim completely. Nobody has ever had you in this way—emotionally, mentally, physically.

When you tell Soobin “I love you,” you mean it in every facet of reality, your soul intimately linked with his otherworldly one.

“I love you too, my love.” He smiles like a bashful child, taking you into his arms and pulling you closer as the night continues on outside. When you again, bodies intertwined between your sheets, all that you wish for now is for the moment to last forever.

And when you fall asleep that night in his arms a few hours later, you pray to every god you can name that it never ends.

The expectation of waking up to the warmth of Soobin’s arms and kisses dies when you feel his empty side of the bed. You search the entire house , your dogs padding behind you as you search every corner for him. 

To your terror and slowly breaking heart, he remains to be seen. Soobin is gone like he was never there to begin with, your house flooding with a chill that hits you to the core.

You crawl back into bed, naked and alone, tears streaming down your face. The only time you rise is to let the animals eat and use the bathroom. For the rest of the day, you remain in bed like a phantom. Half out of your body, half inside of it to feel every ounce of pain. Each shred of sadness reminds you that you still exist, and the man—angel—that you love is gone.

Yeonjun has his head in his hand when another pair of associates throw Soobin in front of his desk. Soobin put up an intense fight in the resulting scuffle to bring him back to the office above Earth, but he doesn’t regret it. The only thing he regrets is not leaving you with some sort of explanation, even something as little as a minute to tell you he loves you.

“When I approved your descent, I expected you to help your assignment. Not sleep with her.” Yeonjun sighs and reads over the paperwork at his desk. “The guys above me are gonna love this.”

“Jun, please.” Soobin falls down on his scraped knees and raises his hands in a prayer. “Let me just tell her—”

“What else is there to explain? You’ve clearly done enough.”

“I’m begging you—”

“You think I’m going to let you spend another second with her and make me look like an idiot? No.” He slams his hand on the desk. “If you’re lucky, Soobin, all the archangels will do is send you to the second circle of Hell. I’m surprised they’re not reprimanding me as your superior. You broke our greatest oath.”

Do not consort with humans, Soobin reminds himself as tears stream down his face. “I love her, Yeonjun. And you know she loves me. Didn’t I do my job? I found her a soulmate, just like she wished for.”

Yeonjun shakes his head with a sad smirk. “Don’t think you can get around our rules this time, Soobin. I just called you here to tell you the council will see you in the morning. Be grateful they’re giving you a chance to explain yourself.”

The angels that brought Soobin in drag him away to the lower cells of the building. As he’s pushed and pulled through dark hallways, Soobin has barely enough time to come up with a plan to fix what he’s ruined. Barely.

Your dream is almost the same as the one you envisioned months ago, the dark cavern welcoming you like an old friend. The fog of your transition from sleep to dreaming still pervades your senses. You barely have time to make out the details before Soobin has you wrapped in his arms, holding you so tightly that you feel the air knocked out of your lungs. “Thank God it worked.”

You sob immediately when you recognize Soobin’s voice and his arms around you. It’s like a magnet the way you gravitate to one another, not worrying if the dream will last a second or into eternity. You can barely remember the pain of being without him now that he’s in front of you.

You call his name as he kisses the crown of your hair. He backs you into the desk at the far end of the room, lifting you up by the legs to sit on its marble top. He trails his lips down until they meet your own, and he says so tenderly, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up.”

Breaking into a fit of sad laughter, you run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m just happy you’re here with me now.” You kiss him again and again, until your lips feel bruised and sore.

Soobin sheds a tear and looks back into the night outside of his office door. “I don’t have long. They’ll bring me back to my cell soon. But I wanted to tell you I love you. And I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“W-Why are you being punished? You did what you were s-supposed to,” you stutter, a mournful knot building in your throat.

“I fell in love with a human when I shouldn’t have,” he answers, another tear welling in his eye. “But it was worth every rule I broke. How could I regret finding my best friend?” Soobin smiles despite the pain that you two share. 

You hiccup into his neck. “When will I see you again?”

“I-I don't know. But I’ll fix this,” he assures you, a steadfast determination in his expression.

“You don’t know that for sure, though,” you cry, heart ripping deeper at the seams with each word. 

“I don’t, but for now, know that I love you. I love you more than my existence allows.” He kisses you one more time as the edges of your dream blur. “It’s only for now, I promise.”

When you wake tangled in the comforter on your bed, the morning sky bleeding through your window, you begin the torture of waiting for the person you love most in the world to come back to you.

TWO MONTHS LATER

For the past seven Fridays since Soobin left, you’ve stayed in and waited for the phone to ring or the doorbell to sound, any way to signify that he hasn’t broken his promise. You don’t bother going into work, trying to find any excuse to stay in the house.

Beomgyu tries to get you out, go on dates, avoid the aching hole in your chest, but he doesn’t understand. None of your friends do. They think he’s left without an explanation like another random asshole would, but they don’t understand how wrong they are.

They’ll never understand you’re waiting for the one who took your heart between his hands and still holds it to this day, even if you can’t see him for now.

For now. The words play in your mind on a loop, the sound of Soobin’s voice as vivid as the day he said them between kisses in your dream. It’s only for now, I promise.

This Friday, you take his words to heart and decide to go out. You walk Key and Bori, the morning sun turning into an afternoon sky clear of clouds. The warmer weather signals winter is giving way to spring, although you can still feel the chill in your bones.

When you bring the dogs back home, you’re still too restless to stay inside, too many memories in the house haunting you with Soobin’s presence.

You walk around the town streets, the memories of those you love the most filling your heart with a solemn nostalgia that edges out the parts of you that are still miserable. You and Beomgyu learning to ride bikes around the animal shelter. Your parents treating you to your first scoop of mint chocolate ice cream after you won gold at your spelling contest. The kiss you shared with Soobin in your living room, and all the kisses that followed.

Each one contains longing for the past, yet offers some hope for making fresh memories in the same spots. And even locations you haven’t discovered yet.

By the second trip around the blocks you know too well, nighttime rears its head. The city lights mark the street names and numbers with a yellow glow, the heavens above pitch black.

Your legs are sluggish, ankles sore from continuing through the world around you without stopping for rest, but no physical excursion compared to the mental expedition you’ve been on today, a microcosm for all of your tangled emotions for the past two months.

 You almost give into the demands of your body when you hear the faintest sound of your name behind you. Turning on shaking limbs, you see the perfect contours and edges of the man you love in crystal clarity. His shoulders heave as his face remains wet with tears, his body on the verge of convulsing from the travel back to you.

Although every muscle strains and screams inside of you, you run towards him with all of your might and crash into his arms. The water on your cheeks mixes with his when your skin touches. He kisses each tear before he reaches your lips, his mouth tasting of salt and peppermint.

“I’m here. I’m here, my love.” He strokes your hair with his hand and runs the other across your back.

“I didn’t get to say I love you too, last time I saw you,” you say, the words tumbling over one another as you try getting them about. You’re crying and mumbling and it all feels incoherent, but you know every sound you emit is true.

Soobin chuckles, and you’re reminded how beautiful the sound of his laughter is. “You never had to say it back, my love. I already knew.”

Your heartbeat is erratic, but it doesn’t distract you from the fact Soobin’s heart seems to beat as well. A strong, even-tempered rhythm, one you’ve never heard before. You look him deep in the eyes, needing to hear the words on his lips. “Are you—“

His voice is still hoarse and tattered, but his smile is like the salve to all of your wounds. “I told you I would come back to you.”

You whimper, another tear escaping from your eyes. “You gave up everything for me? Your immortality, your friends, your—”

He presses a finger to your lips before running it over your cheek, his expression soft. “I completed my mission. And my everything is right here with me.”

You kiss his lips, all the I love you’s not enough to encapsulate every feeling and gift Soobin’s given you since he came into your life. You both may be on Earth, one old and one new human soul linked as one, but you know this is what it means to be higher than even the immensity of heaven.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @biteyoubiteme @jjunbug

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[limerlove]

limerlove presents. college!violet x comphet!reader

sum, little love is lost between you and violet vanderson. slowly, but surely, orbiting each others existence due to circumstance. but what happens when it becomes more than just mutual friends pulling you together?

content warning. eighteen+, wc 5k. internalized homophobia, comphet, mentions of reader have a boyfriend, y'all know i couldn't resist some good 'ole angst (let’s remember who is writing), smut, fingering, mentions of oral.

this fic truly got away from me. it was just supposed to be a cute little blurb. ummmm.....sorry! thanks for the request plu, you always knock it out of the park. hope y'all enjoy the build up to the smut because i'm such a little tease. but who doesn’t like a little edging? ♡ ‘nd and special thank you for the prompt @meganegatari, i had entirely too much fun with this.

“I can see you staring at my tits.” Vi teases you, the tape doing nothing to pull your gaze from her. Even with her nipples concealed, she still manages to steal your attention. Eyes lingering a beat too long, the defined line sculpted down her chest — clearly not missing a single morning at the gym. 

Deep and wondrous Violet, slightly freckled, a fragment of constellations kiss her collarbones and round about the rest of her otherwise bare chest. The chiseled abs she has no qualms showing off. If you put in half the amount of time she did in her workouts, you would too. 

The expanse of broad, tattooed back exposed. Defined muscles in her back contracting with her subtle movements, and it traps you, like a fish caught at the shore. No one on earth should look like this, so beautiful, a daunting kind of ethereal making you believe greek goddesses exist.

Does she even care how confused she makes you feel?

From the first moment you met, a friend of a friend, you’ve always been curious about the way she holds herself. Nothing ever seems to bother her, fearless as can be, and you’re standing here with jealousy sprouting an envious green. The truth is, you try not to look too often, but in these small moments — you inevitably slip. 

Freshly showered with dripping wet hair, a pair of boxers you wished to be sweatpants instead. So much skin — muscle. You hated how natural she made it all seem. How she could make you question yourself so easily. Without even trying, she left an impression on your brain, leaving you bleeding as you try to carve out her deeply irritating smile. 

A devastating feat, a beautiful expression— a crack in an otherwise delicate grin. Part of you couldn’t help but wonder if the scar on her lip felt as deep. The one she runs her tongue over when she thinks no one watches. Last Sunday, the blunt of her fingernail kept messing with it, a nervous habit — a tick. It isn’t until she glares back at you over the dining room table do you acknowledge the severity of your actions. 

Vi never smirks at you like she does with the women she flirts with — or the ones who flirt with her — there’s hardly any recognition. Like a shooting star it’s fleeting. You only catch the upturn of her lips before Sevika asks her a question, her attention otherwise diverts into something of importance.

And it’s not you.

Even if only for a singular moment your brain clings onto a far out of reach fantasy. Completely unaware of how much Vi is dreaming about you in ways you deeply fantasize.

Violet — Vi — wishes to part you, a lily growing from the pavement. Pulling each petal until a makeshift bouquet is held in her calloused palms. Perfectly plucked, pressed into the weathered pages of her favorite novel. She wonders if you would enjoy the passages she highlights, the tabs she left in her favorite pages.

A secret to be hidden deep in Eve's garden, a serpent to the sinner she must watch you yield. Vi gazes on your saccharine sentimentality, head above in the clouds each time she’s like this. 

You aren’t a lover she can afford. The price is too high and the river of your love could drown her with a splash.

Violet’s life has always thrived in private. It’s always been safer in a deluded light, lingering safely in the gleam of a purely white moon. It’s much more difficult to be painted in violet and blue-hued oils of admiration when you can’t see the muse. Even then, Vi can’t deny how much she enjoys you fumbling with a paintbrush, afraid to make your first stroke. 

A newly born artist; trying to remember a pattern you’ve never felt before yet it warms your heart all the same. The habit still clutches onto Vi, connecting with her long line of relationships, never quite ending successfully. Going for people who don’t want her, who can’t love her, unattainable hearts sworn to love someone who looks nothing like her. 

It’s easier. Better. Keeping those she loves at distance, flirting for fun, pretending like she doesn’t care. It’s what she was born to do. Love and lose. Instead of the ladder, the love impounds on her. Making the mark known, the way you keep staring at her imperfect lips, it burns her from the inside out. 

Just like before, you’re doing it again. Her tattooed skin and your curious eyes gazing at her neck, her arms where the art spills — just ask — Vi thinks to herself. You’ve managed to weave yourself in her mind, vines with thorns pricking, threatening her to spill every drop of blood.

Your need to be seen causes Vi to sink into her fight or flight nature. Each time you speak with her, she never says the right thing. Each interaction she becomes tight-lipped, or she transforms herself into the player you believe her to be — the one she can’t even recognize. 

Then you’re here in the confinements of her apartment, looking at her like she’s a ripe pomegranate you wish to split open. Blood fucking canines sinking into each crevice of her soul, the juncture where her spirt meets body, making her vividly survey a notion — this of all things couldn’t possibly ring cadence. 

She wants to turn on her sharp edges, the ones that cut — create some distance — and she wants to be so pointed you eat the blade. Except she would cry knowing she hurt you, wounding you in any way would be Violet’s violent end. 

So, she watches. She waits. She listens.  

Wondering what it would feel to keep you so close. Would your heart flutter at one obscenely scandalous touch? The stray piece of hair you’re always tucking behind your ear — is it because she allows herself to get too close? 

You’re off limits, unattainable— straight. Violet doesn’t know how to make friendships with beautiful women that don’t end up underneath her. She loves too much, too hard, and doesn’t let an ounce of her emotions show. Physically affectionate and emotionally walled off.

That’s Violet Vanderson.

Even if she keeps one evening secret, you seem keen to never speak of it again like you had agreed upon. 

“Waiting for Mel.” It’s an effort you make but you’re still looking…shamelessly. 

“Mhm, right, Mel. That’s why you’re here.” 

“Of course she is. Mel and I have been best friends since grade school.” You do your best to defend her almost immediately, “My presence here has nothing to do with you.” Vi doesn’t know you’re trying to believe those words. The second you speak them, it feels much like a farce.

For a split second she believes them to be true, maybe a bit more if you weren’t so defensive. The both of you know it from the way your tone spits and slims. Immediately, your body slips into providing incite to your words. The emotion has already leaked. And you’re scrambling for plausible deniability.

Vi can’t deny how much she enjoys seeing you frazzled, grasping at straws trying to remain calm in her half-bare presence. 

Over the years, Vi has always run in the same circles as you. Same friends, same groups, same monthly brunches but the two of you avoid each other at all costs. A ghost looming over you both, as if there was something to run from. You’re just…there. Vi does her best to ignore it. 

Violet would never outwardly deny it, she is attracted to you. There had been no question about it, but you were caught up on your high school boyfriend, the supposed love of your life. Even a year after graduation, the highlight reels with him through the holidays made its way on her social feed. A strong couple and even adored by your friends as the relationship to have. 

At times, Vi would even feel envious. The two of you seemed to be so in love, so enamored by each other’s presence. In secrecy, she always wanted the thing people always talk about. An unspoken feeling when you just know you’re with the right person. 

Some search their whole life and still never find it.

But it wasn’t until three months ago when it all unfolded. A sacred evening left lurking in the shadows of a sinner’s end. 

─── 

Your second year into college, there had been one happy hour you couldn’t make and suddenly you became the topic of conversation. Violet’s interest peaked. Powder, Mel, Jayce — even Sevika — chimed in about the catastrophic blow of your imploding relationship. 

None of it made any sense really. Vi, just as everyone else in the group thought it was clear the two of you would naturally end up together — forever. High school sweethearts from freshman year, a man who actually was somewhat tolerable and loved you more than anything. 

Everyone contemplated if he cheated, even though he really didn’t seem like the type, you never really did know how someone acted when no one was looking. Not a soul at the table believes you would have broken up with him unprovoked.  

A month rolls by, and radio silence. Mel is the only one to have seen you, you’re safe, but not in good enough spirits to make your presence known within the group. 

One night, Vi thought about reaching out. The two of you would talk in a group setting but territory together, alone, is certainly unheard of. Even if Vi couldn’t quite put her finger on it, something about the situation seemed a little unsettling to her and part of her bubbled with need to know you’re alright. 

Before Vi gave herself time to wrestle with why she wants to help you, she opens the front door of her apartment and there you stood. A closed fist raised in the air as if you’re ready to knock on her door. 

“How did you—” With ease, you ignore her questioning.

“Is Mel here?” There’s a certain type of anguish that ignites in your eyes, two more seconds and you might blow. It’s the one thing Vi can sympathize with. 

“No, I can call her though. I really don’t—” The fear created a stench around the room, a demon's source of blood ready to feast on your distress. 

“That’s alright. I actually want to speak with you.” You confess. Vi takes note of your tremors, how much they increase with every passing second. 

Without thinking much of it, Vi cranes her body to the side, letting you in. Never have you been here to see her. Only her. Leaving nothing but a bile of uncertainty in the pit of her stomach. 

“I have something to ask you. And I-I, well please don’t laugh at me.” Each word unraveled whispers of scribbled ink, desperate to get the sentence out. You compromise the stability of your lip as it quivers in what looks a lot like fear. 

“Are you okay? Did he do something to you? Did he hurt you?” She oozes with sincerity and it makes your stomach twist in knots. “Say the word and I’ll beat his ass.” 

Okay…what the fuck was that? Is she being protective? Over you?

“No, no, no — it’s actually the fucking opposite.” Vi’s powder-blue eyes are stunned watching as she takes you in, the way your eye drifts over her frame. Lingering longer than you normally would. “I—” 

“You what?” 

“Sevika says you sleep around a lot.” You blurt out before thinking, nearly slapping your hand over your mouth in the process. Vi is even more bewildered than before. 

So, now you’re openly…slut shaming her? 

“A-And, s-she says sometimes you h-help other girls, you know? The ones who are confused. The ones who aren’t sure what they like yet. The ones who break up with their sweet boyfriend because they can’t stop thinking about a girl — or girls — it’s not like it’s anyone specific….or anything.” 

Violet stays silent. None of the secrets you’re spilling are about her and the best thing she can do is give you this moment to process out loud. It surprises her when words continue to tumble out of your mouth, petrified of your own mind. A new craving you might think is poison so you restrain from ingesting the smallest of bits. 

It’s not something she can relate to. She’s always known it’s been women for her. Everyone’s journey is different. And you’re looking like you might blow at any given moment. 

“This is crazy, right? I mean, it’s because he was going to propose and I’m freaking out about an unknown future, it isn’t because I’m—” You stop yourself, unable to say the words out loud. You can’t be. You would have known by now. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time. This is stupid. I’m being unbelievably dumb.” 

“Why’d you come here?” Vi pokes the bear, watching your failed confidence crash into the floor. “You have other friends. You’re closer to them than you are with me. If it’s because you wanted to talk to someone who is gay, that’s alright too. But why me?” 

For a sinking moment, Vi watches as you retract into yourself. The grey-oak floors threaten to encompass you whole. The fear is written in the way your eyebrows furrow, creating a crease between them. Vi desperately wants to smooth each line out. 

“I-I’m so-sorry. I should go.” You wipe a tear fighting to get away and you try to get past her but she gently grabs your hand, holding it in hers. 

“Hey hey, look at me—” A soft please is murmured from Violet’s lips and you give into the gentle slope of her honey-dew voice that drips all over you like paint on an empty canvas. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you feel. This is a safe place, alright? With me, you don’t have to be scared about not knowing. It’s okay to not know but it’s also okay if you’d rather not talk about it.” 

Vi treats you like a fawn gazing at her first pair of headlights. Only it’s the first girl you’ve ever had a thing for and you’re not sure what to do with yourself. She’s been there with other girls, their confusing gaze like the sun has been split open for the first time and their seeing the center of the brightest star. The origin of a feeling they didn’t know existed. 

She watches as the tension in your body dissipates, your gorgeous eyes dropping to her warm hand holding yours. Protecting your own shadow from the fear of being let go of. You’ve never felt this safe, not in a way where it’s so vividly righteous. 

“What if I feel something for you?” 

“That’s okay too.” Warmly and with a whole heart, Violet smiles. “Is there anything else you want?” 

She’s waiting for you to ask for it. There’s a relief flowing through your body — she won’t take it — and your heart stutters in your chest. She inches forward, she places your hands on the top of her chest, forehead pressing against hers. Violet’s giving you an out, letting you leave if you need to. It’s almost too tender, too sweet for you to stomach, and your breath hitches in your throat when she opens her eyes. 

Locking in with yours before she lingers on glossy lips, “You can have anything you want but only if you’re brave enough to take it.” Violet’s always been quiet with her quips, never talks too much with the group around. But you’ve never had her in an environment where clouds wouldn’t even be soft enough to lie on. “Nothing has to happen. This is your choice and no one can take it away from you.” 

This is your choice. 

What once felt like a burden, an unbearable weight to carry is released with such simple, soft-spoken words. Lines of firmity laced in with any self-doubts lingering in your mind. Everything evolves into what it’s supposed to. Fine lines carved in the edge of her smile. The well runs so deep, a crack in the matrix splits your world open and paints every corner with the soft-blue of her eyes. 

Violet lays her lips on top of yours, her bottom lip captured in both of yours. An essence of uncertainty blooms within you, scared it’ll move too fast, scared because it’s not your ex-boyfriend you won’t know how to please her.

A million thoughts swarm through your head but not one tells you to kiss her back and you don’t. Without a moment to process, Vi’s pulling away from you, giving you necessary room to breathe. One you weren’t quite sure you even needed but she seems to. 

“How are you feeling?” She’s too soft for her own good. 

“Like I freaked out.” 

Vi chuckles but it’s not condescending. Like she knew the thoughts swarming through your head through the wavering uncertainty in your eyes. “Do you wanna try again? I can try something else but I don’t want to overwhelm you.” 

“Y-Yeah okay. I would like that.”

Not missing one beat, she surprises you. Practically jumping you with her lips provokes a knee-jerk reaction and you immediately give into her lips. A firm hand on your back pulls you closer, a knee placed in-between your thighs but Violet is careful enough to not push. Holding you like you’re a piece of glass that might shatter, stroking the edges of your jaw with a softness you melt into.

With a slight of tongue, she prys your mouth open with the velvet muscle, sinking herself into the moan you lay at the altar of her deepest needs. It feels different from the first one, her primal desire refines the ink in every love letter she’s ever been told. It’s different than what you expected, better than you knew it could be. 

Vi’s the first to pull away but this time you chase her. 

This is how it’s supposed to feel.

It’s more than terrifying. It’s life altering. A chill to your bones in the sweltering heat of July. Her lips jumpstart a heart you’ve been feeding with lifeless love but now have been renewed in all things named Violet.

Naturally you only have once choice, you run away. Slamming her apartment door so hard, Vi thinks all of this has been one god-awful nightmare.

─── 

What Violet kept to herself that night? She was just as affected by the kiss, maybe even more. Unlike you, it hadn’t been an experiment she needed to feel sure of herself. Vi knew how much she liked you and it burned twice as bad when you dashed away from her. A bloom fluttering against your ribcage when you kissed her back — she couldn’t think of it.

Not when you fled in fear.

Violet wouldn’t be the lesbian who cries over a bi-curious girl who never looks her way again, not in the way she needlessly craves. As the months wore on, Vi made it her mission to make sure any extra attention you gave her would be noted. Sometimes, she wonders how you really felt. You didn’t return to your boyfriend like Vi expected but you also didn’t date any other girls, boys  — there didn’t seem to be anyone. 

The past few weeks, your presence in her shared apartment with Mel seems to be increasingly frequent. Hints of your lavender and vanilla scented perfume follows her everywhere. Mel and you couldn’t be separated worth a damn. Vi would almost think it’s cute, the way you seemed to be skittish every time she was around, your eyes doing double-takes when she walked in the same room as you. 

You always look like there’s something ready to drip off your tongue. The war raging on, pulling you back and forth, and you had no idea Violet knew something. A secret slipping from Sevika before she could recant it. Her patience had worn thin and she wants to ask you. 

A stupid frat party. One Mel knew you would be at and happened to drop the details in Vi’s lap. It seems you had told someone about the kiss which did give her a little bit of hope. You were hiding from it, not directly, it mattered enough to tell your best friend.

And she was going to do something about it.

All night she has been waiting for you to be alone, hoping she could talk to you, and after hours of sulking with Sev — there’s an opening.

“I do have a shirt on this time so maybe you can do a better job at controlling yourself.” Vi shuts the door behind her, flipping the lock upwards. 

Vi didn’t even want to come out tonight. Not before. But you, you, you.

This week has been brutal. The kink in her shoulder wouldn’t give, she missed two workouts this week, and she couldn’t get you off her mind. This needs to stop. Even if she’s rejected, at least she could have some peace in dismissal. 

A bruise to her ego she could take. What she couldn’t accept is your avoidance. Three months and you still wouldn’t talk about it. So, she did something against her better intuition. Vi may have cornered you in the sorority bathroom ready to launch her incriminating information at full force. 

“Violet! I could have been on the toilet. Are you kidding me—” 

“Look, I waited until you flushed!” Vi scratched the back of her neck, watching you, wanting to see if you could piece the puzzle together. Shameless in the way she lets her eyes linger on your cleavage. 

“You were following me?” 

“I wanted to talk.” You look at her like she said the most vile statement in the world. You sound annoyed, even look a bit irritable, but you’re checking her out. Hard. “I went out drinking with Sevika. She’s always saying nonsense when she’s sipping on whiskey. Saying more than she should, some things are true, and some aren’t.” 

“Okay?” 

“Sevika said something — something I really want to be true.” Quietly, Vi whispers. A sincerity that leaves you shaking. 

Violet presses against you, frame slipping behind you, looking at you through the mirror as you dry off your hands. Resting her chin on the slope of your shoulder, a light breath kissing your neck, “It’s really such a simple thing.” 

“What is it, Violet? What couldn't wait?” 

Ring clad fingers wrap around your waist, hanging loosely as her fingers ghost over the soft denim. Vi shouldn’t like the way you lean into her, the incredibly enticing sigh escaping from your lips, a soft whine of her name expelling her way. She pulls you in closer, waiting for you to crack. 

“Three months is enough time. Don’t you think so?” Vi takes pleasure in how your eyes fall shut against her touch. Your weight falling slack against her, your hand gripping onto the sink in front you. In what Vi assumes is an attempt to center yourself. “You’re still checking me out, every chance you get but you could have more…so much more.” 

“Weren’t you going to ask me something?” 

You’re hanging on. Barely. Clinging onto the thread of a woman behind you threatening to pull until there’s nothing left, no end or beginning, there’s only her. 

“Can you handle it?” A proposition to your question, lips ghosting of your neck as she meets your eyes for silent permission. With a poison she only has the antidote for, the taste of her nearly raspberry colored lips make home in the juncture of your neck. A slow and steady death is your conviction for three months of silence, one you would pay over for a singular moment of her devoted affection.  

“Violet—” The whimper you release mellows her, fingers mindlessly tapping over your pelvis. “What are you—” 

“Do you want me to touch you?” She already is but you know exactly what she means. The imposing question drifts from your mind and all you can focus on is the way her sultry whispers laces you in gold, melted by the excruciating heat of the sun. 

“Yes— p-please.” Without realizing it, your ass grinds against Vi, your desperation leaks unknowable bounds when it comes to her greedy touch. You’re grateful she keeps reaching. 

Blue-washed denim unravels with a pinch of her thumb to the bronze button, dragging the zipper down with one final drag. Vi looks in the mirror. Watching as you struggle to steady your breath — fuck — you can’t even keep your eyes open. 

“I should make you wait for it. I’ve been so patient. Waiting for you to come to me—” Violet takes it slow at first, fingering over your incredibly thin black-laced panties. Even if she protrudes slightly, the fabric would pathetically rip. “I guess you’re eager to come for me now, aren’t you? Need my touch? That’s what you told Sevika.” 

You’re dripping, the flimsy lace soaked through. Might as well be dripping over Vi’s nimble fingers. But the revealed secret makes you gasp, especially when she’s rubbing steady circles over your clothed clit. Fuck, she knows exactly what to do. 

Vi can’t help but chuckle when let out a low groan, earthy and layered with rasp, as if it came from something so deep. A place you yourself haven’t allowed yourself to travel within. She needs to catch you off your guard, before the self-doubt crawls into your mind like a festering disease. Now, she knows you much you think about her —wishing for this — wishing for her. 

Pushing the flexible material to the side, Vi runs two fingers along your slit. Her own clit throbbing as you release an even louder moan of her name.

Have you ever been touched like this? Did your boyfriend ever stop for a moment and think about your pleasure? Vi didn’t think so, not by your earthquake of a reaction from such a simple touch. 

“So tell me—” Vi slips her ring finger inside, feeling you clench the second she’s giving you the slightest protrusion, “Do you think about me when touch yourself? Or is Sevika a fucking liar?” 

“Y-Yeah, I do.” As if she’s into rewarding you for good behavior, Vi slips her middle finger within your warm walls, basking in how welcoming you invite her in. “Ever since we kissed I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Vi sinks her teeth into your neck, sucking slightly before her tongue soothes over the attack. It’s more than she expects you to admit. You do it so sweetly.

An angel ready to pay penance for her sins but Vi wants to give you more. Anything you want as long as she gets to have you in a way no one else does. Lighting ablaze to the deepest fantasies swarming around your mind, her fucking you at the center of them. 

“Don’t be shy. Tell me more.” A command, a wish? It hardly matters. You want to give her…everything.

Vi fills you in a way you haven’t been before. Her pleasure seems to come from pulling you closer to the edge. Determination fixated in her gaze as she watches you threaten to spill. Stupidly perfect fingers knowing what you want before you do. The soft sounds of your slick entering the bathroom along with the thumping bass you hear coming from downstairs. 

“I think about your head between my thighs, looking up at me with your pretty blue eyes, and me um — oh fuck—” Devious and true, a thumb returns back to your clit as you threaten to come from a touch so simple, quick and delicate. She applies more pressure, the pace in her effective thrust of your weeping cunt cries out for her. The object of all your affections fucking you into a numbness state of mine. “Violet, I’m—” 

“Finish what you were telling me, sweet girl. I wanna hear you talk about how much you want my mouth while you come for me.” You can’t recall anything, not when the feeling pulls at your stomach. It’s close, as you finally bring yourself to look at her through the mirror. 

Fucking hell, she’s been looking at you this whole time. Ready on a dime to split you entirely open. 

“Vi please— I wanna come, please— I can’t, s’too much—” Her wrist slings forward, fucking a spot no one has reached especially not with this much precision. 

“What would be too much? My mouth? My fingers? My tongue fucking your pretty little cunt? God, what I would give to feel your thighs squeezing every last breath out of me.”

The need. The want. It’s all too much.  

“Isn’t that what you want? You fucking my face as you smother me with your pussy? My pretty girl can have whatever she wants.” Vi decides she’s done with being a little cruel. All she needs right now is to watch you cum as she curves her fingers into your cunt. “It’s okay baby, show me how beautiful you are who you come.”

She’s never seen anything like it. The twitching, the moans, the desperate cries of her name spilling like god’s most divine creation. Violet basks in the buck of your hips, like a wild bull she’s been tasked to tame. Falling apart, a fallen angel is placed in her lap, and Violet can’t wait to be tasked to find you a new pair of wings. 

Once you’ve come down, you’re turned around lips attacking Vi’s. It’s the most confident you’ve been, unbuttoning her top so you can feel her tits, those pretty pierced nipples falling victim under your touch. Violet’s fingers sink into your hair, slightly pulling at the root as she growls with pure animosity. 

A raging love, gutting and raw, you want all that it comes with.

Vi bites your bottom lip, pulling away from you as she breaks the nearly violent touch. But you seem insistent on playing with her breasts, kneading at the swell of them, tweaking her overly sensitive nipples. 

“God, you….really love my tits.” 

With a knowing smirk, you say nothing. For the first time, you’ve never been so sure about the future. It’s ground-breakingly bright, painted deeply in your favorite shade of Violet.

okayyyyyyyyy. hiiiiiii ♥︎ don’t know if i ate but i chewed a little bit here. every time i wrote for vi i fall a little bit more in love. she’s just so — muse type shit — yk? anyways, hope you liked it! lmk what you think!

[bumblingbabooshka]

Amanda's line in TOS about how the Vulcan way of life is better than the Human one and the fact that she consented to raising Spock as entirely Vulcan hints towards a very strange and interesting woman that I wish would be portrayed/explored instead of the way I normally see her in adaptations which is...Slightly Sad Perfect Mother Figure. Good Woman. Good Emotions Woman to balance out Sarek. Like, to me, these things (the line and how Spock was raised to be ashamed of his Humanity) paint the picture of Amanda going up to Sarek and being like...in the midst of all these Humans he interacts with daily, so singular and interesting because of her outpouring of appreciation for the Vulcan way of life. And maybe Sarek and her speak about it and he finds himself fascinated by this woman and that mix of mutual interest becomes affection becomes love. And then these two freaks put their heads together at a certain point down the road of their marriage and Sarek says y'know Amanda it's SO cool what we're doing here but I think you've pretty much got this Vulcan thing as down as you're going to. You're a marvel and you leave me in awe every day, with the way you were raised entirely Human I don't think anyone else has achieved what you have. But you know what'd be so fucking sick? Let's see if we can raise a child that's half you and half me, a symbol of our bond and our hopes for the future of mankind (that they conquer their emotions and follow a logical path). Let's see how THAT kid handles it. It's fine to have kids that're half science experiment half symbol of the future, right? That won't fuck them up? And Amanda says YEEESSS I'd fucking LOVE to do that with you Sarek. I love you so much. And you know, Amanda is a rather enigmatic character. Why she does what she does, what she wants, how she feels about Spock and Vulcans - they're largely up to interpretation since the episode she appears in becomes very high stress very quickly and people don't always act in line with how they normally do when under that kind of life-or-death pressure BUT what I think is a point of tragedy in Spock and Amanda's relationship isn't that Spock couldn't be Human enough but that these two people couldn't bond about having emotions yet following the Vulcan path. They both view the Vulcan path as being difficult but worth it to follow. It's the path they both chose for themselves, ultimately. Imagine how much sooner Spock may have been able to accept himself wholly if he'd felt able to confide in his mother about a feeling she probably would have understood completely in a way Sarek couldn't - being Human yet alien yet Vulcan. Amanda chose to live with Sarek on Vulcan. Did she feel at home with Humans? Does she feel at home with Vulcans? Or does she exist in the same liminal space her son does? Not Human enough, not Vulcan enough. It's so interesting that Amanda Grayson is a Human being, a Human woman (which would've been especially noteworthy in the TOS' gender politics era) who can be interpreted as having in essence consciously forsaken her Humanity and encouraged her son to do the same. To what end? Was that for love or was it something she'd done before meeting Sarek? Was it lonely? When Spock allows himself to smile very slightly at something, does he look in the mirror and remember his mother's face? Maybe he does and maybe at first he's ashamed. But then he's an old man and it only brings him peace, a tether to a woman he could never really connect to in life.

[fans4wga]

26 July update from WGA's Chris Keyser

From the WGA: With SAG-AFTRA now on strike and new levels of solidarity across all Hollywood unions, we are witnessing the spectacular failure of the AMPTP’s negotiating strategy. In this video, WGA Negotiating Committee Co-Chair Chris Keyser lays out what this moment means and how we move forward. To learn more about the WGA strike, visit https://www.wgastrike.org.

FULL TRANSCRIPT:

Fellow members of the WGA East and West. It's been a while since our last video and quite a bit has happened in the meantime. So on behalf of the negotiating committee and leadership, I wanted to give you an update on where we are and what the near future at least is likely to bring.

We've been walking side by side on picket lines in New York and Los Angeles for a little over 12 weeks now. Only now we're joined by thousands upon thousands of members of SAG-AFTRA who, like us, have finally had enough.

This is the endpoint and the fruit of the AMPTP’s game plan. For 11 weeks, they negotiated with everyone but us. They claimed it was just practicality, that they could only do one thing at a time, which is not normally a point of pride. But events have made clear what we knew from the start: that not only was it a strategy, it was their only strategy. Negotiate a deal with a single guild and impose that deal on every other guild and union in Hollywood, whether it addresses the needs of those unions or not, all with the implicit threat: if you want more, strike for it.

Wow. It’s their 2007-8 playbook applied to 2023 as if nothing has changed, as if the accumulation of economic insults and injuries inflicted on us over the past decade would be borne in perpetual silence, as if the giant of labor had not awakened. But it has. And you only need to look as far as the front gates of every studio in LA and New York to see the evidence.

Two unions on strike willing to exercise their power, despite the pain, to ensure their members get the contract they deserve. For us, that means addressing the relentless mistreatment of screenwriters, which has only been exacerbated by the move to streaming; the continued denial of full MBA protection to comedy variety and other appendix A writers when they work in streaming; and the self-destructive unsustainable dismantling of the process by which episodic television is made and episodic television writers are paid.

It means addressing the existential threat of AI and the insufficiency of streaming residual formulas, including the need for transparency and a success-based component. All of these will need to be addressed for there to be a deal because in this strike it is our power and not their pattern that matters, not their strategy. Their strategy has failed them. Now they're in the midst of a streaming war with each other, an admittedly difficult transition. And as they face the future, their interests and business models could not be more different from Disney to Sony to Netflix to Amazon.

We root for their success, all of them. They root for each other's failure. We are the creative ammunition through which they will succeed. They are each other's apex predators. And yet, in a singular shared dedication to denying labor, they have shackled themselves together in what increasingly seems like a mutual suicide pact, as the 2023-24 broadcast season and the 2024-25 movie schedule and its streaming shows disappear, melt away week by week.

So what does this mean? What does it mean going forward? How do you play chess against an opponent who insists on screaming checkmate at every move regardless of how the board looks and the game is going?

You stay firm, you stay resolved, because our cause is no less existential than when we started and our leverage is increasing every day. Alone we withheld our labor with the support of our union siblings and the Teamsters and IATSE and the Crafts, we were able to delay the vast majority of production. Now with SAG-AFTRA on strike, those few studio projects that remained have also shut down. And it's not just the obvious delays. If this strike drags on, it's the actors with conflicting obligations and the directors and the double-booked studio facilities and release date chaos that the companies must now also contend with. Some of their most valuable product could well be delayed for years.

Add to that, no promotion of movies or television shows and famous faces on the picket lines and social media speaking directly to their customers. For the tech companies and the mega corporations, that should be their nightmare scenario: WGA and SAG-AFTRA side by side. Our bargaining agenda may not be identical, but our cause is the same. Our army of labor, defending labor has increased 17-fold in the past two weeks alone.

Even so, even with all this wind at our backs this negotiation won't happen overnight. It's not because the negotiations themselves are so complex. Once the companies fully engage, it could go very quickly, but because their strategy of many decades has just fallen apart and they didn't see it coming, and it's going to take them a minute to regroup, 'cause the companies have things to work out internally, and saying no to labor in unison is a lot easier than saying yes. So either together or separately, as their divergent interests might suggest, they will come back to us, despite their understandable concern about how they've navigated this transition to streaming, which is on their heads and not ours; and their worries about costs and their worries about Wall Street; despite this being a season of doom and gloom, none of them are walking away from the riches of this business, and certainly not over the equitable minimum compensation to writers.

They didn't get the deal they wanted; that's fine, it happens all the time. They're not taking their ball and going home over it. And since we know they come from union families themselves, and since they've denied that “even-in-Hollywood-you-have-got-to-be-kidding-me” ugliness of threatening to starve us out and leave us homeless (which we assume they understand also means making our children homeless,) they will come back to us. Although I will say they took a long time to deny that statement, longer than I would have had it been ascribed to me.

But what does it matter? You can starve a labor force slowly or quickly. The effect is the same. It's not like day rates for comedy variety writers and endless free drafts for screenwriters in exchange for a single paid one in four-week mini-rooms isn't cruelty. It's just cruelty written in contract language instead of a press quote.

So what can we expect from the companies as all of this plays itself out? They will try to convince Wall Street that taking a strike, prolonging it unnecessarily, losing their content stream in the process—that all of that is just smart business and no reason for investor concern. We will be talking to Wall Street too, and reminding them that for all these companies, all of 'em including Netflix, the bill, the price for making nothing, will eventually come due. And Wall Street is listening already. Here's Michael Pachter, managing director of equity research at Wedbush on Yahoo Finance the other day: “I think the studios are completely wrong on this one. Content is their lifeblood. They're feeling really foolish about this."

Wall Street isn't the only one listening. We've been talking to union pension funds too about the risks the companies are taking. We talked to CalPERS, the largest public pension plan in the country, talked about the loss of programming and the cost to the industry, and we heard strong support from its board for our struggle and the promise that the companies will be hearing from them, from CalPERS, and demanding answers on behalf of its 2 million members.

To us, of course, they will continue to plead temporary poverty, but we know the drill. These companies support billions into the streaming wars and taken short-term losses these past three years, because they know that to the winner will go the spoils. We're patient, will they share that with us when the time comes? What are the chances?

Since 2017, the last time the studios negotiated with us outside of COVID, the big six companies alone have made $150 billion in profits off our work, while they slashed our pay and degraded our working conditions. Maybe if they had shared a tiny piece of that then, made $1 billion or so less, this year wouldn't seem so costly. As it is, there is no iron law that these companies are entitled to record profits every year, and it isn't some great travesty if their shareholders or their CEOs get a slightly smaller slice of the massive profits we helped create if some balance is restored.

Look, no one denies that corporations exist to make a profit and no one wants our employers to be profitable more than we do, but the singular pursuit of corporate profits to the exclusion of their social and human cost is a real problem in this country—it’s a real problem. A corporation's bottom line is not the same as the world’s, and there is nothing in our studio's bottom lines today that accounts for the quality of our lives or for our dignity, for the comfort of our retirement or the security of our families. Their numbers have no conscience, but the people who report them as victories ought to.

In their refusal to recognize that, these companies have also extracted an awful price, which is laid at their feet and for which they are responsible. Losses to the economies of New York and Los Angeles and everywhere that film and television are made, terrible losses that mount every day, thousands of people out of work; not just us, all the crews, the crafts, the janitors, the drivers, the businesses that thrive when Hollywood thrives, the restaurants, the stores—for what? For nothing. So they could avoid coming to the table to negotiate the deal they will one day give us. Measured today that is the painfully mixed legacy of our employers, weighed against every beautiful piece of work we have made with them.

And if history is a guide, they have only temporary stewardship over a kind of national trust, which is Hollywood. Our story, our sometimes conscience, our public conversation, our diversion of the worst and best of times, our greatest export, the repository of our imagination. They have some obligation to more than just their shareholders to behave accordingly.

Unfortunately, it seems big tech, mega corporations, and some of the people who run them, as the saying goes know the price of everything and the value of nothing. So they have built a business model that no longer works for human beings who cannot be paid minimum for 10 to 20 weeks a year and make a career out of that, be paid for one draft of a screenplay that demands a year of labor, be paid a few episodic fees for a show about which to take years to decide be paid a daily rate.

And now we have a first glimpse of what they offered our actor colleagues. We are not 170,000 Willy Lomans to be used and then discarded. We know what the companies believe they have the power to do. We know what they think machines can do and do without any of us. Oh yeah, we've seen the writing on the wall and it's plagiarized.

The thing is this: the difference between what you CAN do and what you SHOULD do is the greatest single difference in the world. Knowing that is the only real protection we have against a dystopian future. And if the companies sometimes forget that, writers will do it for them.

I can't know exactly how long it will take this revolutionary moment, and you've heard again and again what is happening today has not happened in 63 years, but I know that's not always how it feels, revolutionary and defining, even though we celebrate that on picket lines together, which is the right thing to do. That's not always how it feels when you go home at night. I know how tough this is: to strike, to hold the line. I know it gets tougher every day even with SAG-AFTRA marching beside us, how hard it is to face the uncertainty of when it will end, when we'll get back to work, how we'll pay the bills. I know it's hardest for those who've just gotten started, for those for whom the world opens doors more reluctantly, battled their whole life just to get here; but hard too for those struggling to maintain their long careers, who find work tougher and tougher to come by, or those with families with children or parents to take care of.

These companies understand the cruelty of what they're doing. It's their plan to starve us just a little, to exact as much pain as they can so that we wish more for the pain to end than for the better life we dreamed up. That we're more afraid of the uncertainty of the present than the certain devastation of the future. It's societally acceptable economic torture inflicted by management on labor every day, then blamed on labor for daring to fight back, for refusing to be complicit in its own mistreatment.

Here's how I know that's not going to work. Not with us, not with the writers, because we haven't come all this way, fought to have these careers in the first place, all the adversity, and marched together for all these months, only to let it slip away on our watch—because there is no point in rushing back to jobs that may not be there in a year or two anyway. Because the business, as the companies have twisted it, is now untenable, unsurvivable for so many of us, because even success is not enough to keep going, because this guild is younger than it's ever been and more diverse. And this young diverse membership knows from hard personal experience the system is broken and that it will not be fixed unless they fix it. And those of us who came before them will not let them down, because we and the writer's guild are the beneficiaries of all those who came before us who gave up everything for us.

Like the writers of 1960, the year I was born, who struck for 22 weeks and who gave away all the TV residuals for all the movies they had ever written so that we could have a health insurance and pension plan and residuals from that date forward. $15 billion flowed to writers and their benefit plans because of that sacrifice. Because writers are brave, because now it's our turn.

So what's our job? Even as we welcome SAG-AFTRA to our side, we are still responsible for our own deal, and so we must remain focused and diligent. We must continue to march, picket signs in hand. But we should also remember this and with pride, that before there was SAG-AFTRA, before even the Teamsters and IATSE and the laborers and the electrical workers and the musicians and the plasterers came to our side, there was the writers. Alone then, we looked at the blank page and began to imagine the future. With no net but each other we typed the words, what if?

And then we took a step into the darkness and found that it was light. And then we were joined by the crews and the drivers and the actors. The actors got a bit more fanfare when they showed up, but that's okay, we wrote the script. The WGA, still small, not alone anymore after all these decades. Hollywood labor has finally linked arms and found its voice, and that voice says enough. There is no road to longterm prosperity that burns a path through your own workforce. We are not your enemies. We are not merely a cost to be borne. We are your partners and your greatest asset. And we are, as you acknowledge yourselves, irreplaceable, but by accident or design and it doesn't really matter anymore, the business you are running no longer works for those who work for you.

What is the point in continuing to deny that? Why deny it when everyone else in the business to a person tells you it's true? Do you think it's a coincidence that two unions are on strike against you for the first time since Eisenhower was president? You can't exactly accuse us of being quick on the trigger. The effect has a cause, it has a cause. And there is no profit in insisting on the answers to the past for the questions of the future.

But if you want instead to invest in something that will reap you fortunes, I have a tip. And if you are visionaries, envision a solution, not a stalemate. Because this isn't a war we're in, it's a negotiation, it's just a negotiation. There is no face-saving here for either side, because there is no winner or loser. It's just a deal. And when you come to remember that again we will be here as we have been here all along.

And at this point with 170,000 writers and actors aligned against your intransigence, that is as generous as I can be, as close to an olive branch as I can offer. But if you insist instead on the same threatening rhetoric, on saying you would rather starve us than pay us, I would remind you of this: You are fighting for a dollar, we are fighting for survival. We are fighting for our home: writing is where we live, and we will defend that home with a bravery and stamina and ferocity that you will come to understand someday, which is why you cannot break us. You cannot outlast us, you cannot.

And not just because we have the will, because we have power. Nothing in this business happens until we start to write. And we will not start to write until we are paid.

Union now. Union forever.

[freyjas-musings]

AZRIEL IS NOT IN LOVE WITH ELAIN - So, if they don't end up together its not cheating or moving on too quickly. There was never enough to "move on" from. It's like some people in the fandom have not had any adult connections at all.

It's clear from Azriel's bonus chapter that he barely even knows Elain. He is attracted to her yes and I am sure he truly believes she might be his chance at happiness just like his brothers found theirs with the other 2 sisters. Is it right ? Nope ....

So, this whole loss of choice is a myth and a result of self inserts projecting .... also choosing to be with your mate is a choice too.

That's the story , how he realises what love truly is ... how he realises his misplaced feelings ... how he processes it , pays for his mistakes, grows and heals . He will get his own mate( Gwyn) but I am sure SJM will make him earn his happily ever after. SJM never gives an easy way out for her MCs.... males and females alike.

We don't have Elain's POV so I am not going to definitively predict one way or the other but based on the limited interaction these two have had ( again ACOSF proves they barely had any interaction) it's an educated guess the feelings aren't too deep on Elain's side either.

Does this mean they are going to be disrespectful to each other or One of them will be a villain or they will hate each other ? No.

That is simply not SJMs style of writing, she will make sure there is a mutual respect and understanding for 2 characters even if they aren't endgame.

Even Tamlin at the end of it wanted Feyre to be happy and vice versa ( No thank you to any Anti IC stans waiting to jump in , not interested in discussing ) .

As far as Elain and Azriel's situation goes they are both equally at fault in what happened on solstice night. Yes , Elain being younger doesn't disregard her share of the fault just like Azriel being 500 years doesn't mean his trauma is invalid only because he is a male character or because he is older. Trauma doesn't work that way naive brats. They are each flawed but they both deserve healing too.

They will both have their journeys individually .... they will both have their happily ever after.

Stop Self Inserting and taking it as a personal insult if the characters don't make the same choices as you !!!! SJM is the only one who has a say , what she writes remains Canon and the singular truth for these characters.

I wish people would spare fandom spaces from their aggressive anti bitterness , the world is depressing and spaces like these should be safe and fun ....

[asksythe]

Close-up version so we can see all that yummy intimacy! The full version is a bit bigger so I'll leave it below. Commed. Artist: Raccoon Nilh It's completed! I'm so happy with how this piece turned out! Raccoon Nilh did great work! Anyway, this is one of the illustrations for a future fanfic project I have planned. The name is: Pygmalion Gazes at the Stars. To avoid the fate of other stories I have come up but forgot to write down (they faded from my brain), I wrote down this (much truncated) plot draft. The original plan was something like... 7000 words of text over varios plot elements, the overarching structures, how the relationship will unfold, how it will be viewed through the astonishing eyes of Chaldea staff, the implications and fallouts of Daybit's presence, the climatic finale act complete with mad girlfriend Riri riding a motorbike and wielding a shotgun running over Lostbelt 7 to hunt down Daybit in his jeep.... among other things... ...anyway...

Premise

Pygmalion Gazes at the Stars begins as a continuation of canon—a hypothetical extension of Lostbelt 7 ending. In this version, Daybit Sem Void, having been defeated and undone in the final act of his own Lostbelt, accepts Tezcatlipoca’s offer to rewind time. He’s given a single opportunity to try again, to change the outcome, to pursue the answer he never found.

But instead of rewinding back to the start of Lostbelt 7, Daybit goes further. Much further.

He rewinds all the way to the very beginning—before the explosion at Chaldea, before the Lostbelts, before Team A was sealed into the coffins. This time, Daybit evades the collapse of the command room. This time, he does not follow the other Crypters into slumber or betrayal. Instead, he walks a different path.

He joins Chaldea’s new timeline and aligns himself with a girl he once underestimated: Ritsuka Fujimaru.

But his motives aren’t benevolent. This isn’t redemption—not yet. What drives him is an obsession. In his mind, Ritsuka is the one who defeated Ort. The one who overcame the impossible. The one who bested him.

In her, Daybit sees a rival unlike any he’s ever known. So he returns to the beginning—not to save her, not to support her, but to observe her. Study her. Surpass her. To do this, he refuses to take command as the 'Last Master of Humanity,' a title which would have gone to him as a member of Team A and the much more experienced Master than greenhorn Riri, much to everybody's surprise. In typical Daybit's manner, he refuses to elaborate beyond insisting that Riri is the best Master there is (because it's the truth in his mind! He hasn't surpassed her yet)

The rest of Chaldea doesn’t understand why Daybit defers to her leadership. Ritsuka herself is suspicious of his sincerity. But as the singularities unfold and the Lostbelt threat begins to stir once more, an unshakable bond forms—not through fate, but through day-by-day presence. Through belief. Through proximity. Through shared experience.

In trying to surpass her, Daybit begins to understand her. And through her, he begins to understand himself again.

The Pygmalion Effect

The heart of the story lies in the psychological concept known as the Pygmalion effect: when someone believes in you so completely, you begin to rise to meet their expectations. Ritsuka, who starts the story uncertain and insecure, begins to grow into her role because Daybit believes in her without question. That belief changes her. And, over time, it begins to change him too.

This story isn’t just about one person sculpting another. It's about two people who become better versions of themselves through mutual belief. Ritsuka sees through Daybit’s inhuman detachment (in typical Riri's fashion. What's a Cloudcuckoolander Daybit compared to literal BEAST Draco?). She recognizes his pain and loneliness, which even Daybit himself fails to vocalize. In doing so, she returns his gaze with her own belief—that he isn’t beyond saving, that he’s still human underneath.

The Shape of a Life: Daybit, Riri, and the Slow Return to Humanity

One of the most grounding elements of Pygmalion is the day-to-day life that quietly unfolds between Daybit, Ritsuka, and Mash. After the decision is made to support Riri, Daybit quite literally never leaves her side. He insists it’s necessary to observe her constantly in order to surpass her—he must be there at every moment to record her strengths, catalog her missteps, and understand her entirely.

And so, Daybit eats when Riri eats. Trains when she trains. Reads mission reports at her side. They review battle data together, share coffee across the table, and discuss Servant summoning strategies long into the night. Eventually, sleeping arrangements become shared, too—not from romantic initiative, but because Riri falls asleep at her desk too often and Daybit refuses to leave her unattended. In his words: “It is vital to track the frequency and condition of her REM cycles.”

Mash, ever loyal, is often close by. In many ways, this strange trio becomes a unit—Chaldea’s emotional core. Riri becomes something of a pseudo big sister to both of them, despite Daybit technically being her senpai. Where he brings raw analytical ability and bizarre alien foresight, she brings warmth and trust and an instinctive grasp of people.

What starts as Daybit’s obsessive campaign to study and “surpass” her becomes something else entirely. Through Riri’s routines—meals, laughter, arguments, fatigue, quiet joy—he begins to feel again. He starts noticing things: how good coffee tastes after a long mission. How soothing Riri’s voice is when she’s humming without realizing it. How Mash smiles a little more easily when the three of them are together.

Without meaning to, Daybit begins to experience what he lost: a sense of family. And while he would never use that word himself, it takes root in the quiet spaces between battles—in the walk to the cafeteria, the silence before sleep, the shared glance across a crowded control room. For someone so thoroughly estranged from humanity, routine becomes a lifeline. Intimacy, even platonic, becomes a catalyst.

Riri doesn’t notice at first. She simply enjoys the company and tries to take care of both of them. But slowly, through a hundred unnoticed moments, she becomes the center of a new constellation—a small, strange, but fiercely devoted family. In essence, Riri becomes a lens through which Daybit can perceive his own humanity again.

The Alien Within: Daybit and the Question of Intimacy

There’s a specific narrative I want to explore through Daybit, inspired in part by Phoenix by Osamu Tezuka (and its later reinterpretation in Saya no Uta) and my own interpretation of Daybit as a character (which I probably should write out one of these days). It’s the idea of a person whose perception of humanity has been fundamentally altered—someone who no longer sees other people as people. Someone for whom connection becomes foreign and unsettling.

Daybit, in this story, doesn’t simply struggle with love or intimacy; he doesn’t even process it in the same way anymore. He’s so alienated from humanity—emotionally, psychologically, even spiritually—that human urges and instincts don’t quite register as real to him. When he looks at others, he doesn’t see potential partners. He sees something akin to how we might view another species.

It’s not that he can’t form bonds. It’s that he doesn’t expect to or even thinks he needs to. But then, into that distorted landscape, walks Riri.

He doesn’t initially see her as a woman or even a person, but as an anomaly. A perplexing variable that he cannot simulate, cannot solve, like how she even bested him in the canon Lostbelt 7. Slowly, through observation and prolonged proximity, she becomes the exception to his estrangement. Not through any deliberate seduction, but through sheer presence—through being human in a way he had forgotten was possible.

In intimate moments, he doesn’t perceive her body as a biological object. Instead, he processes it through alien metaphor: as glass, as sand, as something granular and collapsing yet beautiful in its impermanence. His approach to sexuality is less instinctual and more cognitive—curious, reverent, disoriented. And it’s through this lens that he begins to re-approach what it means to be human at all.

Ensemble Cast and Ripple Effects

In this timeline, the Crypters begin to survive. Daybit’s interference changes the game. The grand sacrificial ritual behind the Lostbelts starts to unravel. More of Team A wakes up and sees what’s become of Chaldea—and of Daybit.

Many assume he’s running the show, only to be surprised when they realize it’s Ritsuka in charge, and that Daybit defers to her completely.

That confusion sparks speculation. Is Ritsuka a product of mage-breeding experiments? A genetically engineered super-Master? The Crypters can’t believe someone as unremarkable as her could be that good—so they start looking for hidden reasons.

Only Beryl, strangely enough, sees the truth. He knows love when he sees it.

And so begins a chain reaction. The rest of the Crypters start to bond, to grow, even to form their own ill-fated or awkward relationships. Chaldea becomes a strange sort of found family—one with plenty of dysfunction, plenty of arguments, but also moments of warmth and honesty. There's even a light parody thread running through it: "nature documentary"-style commentary on the "mating habits" of socially inept magi.

The Conspiracy: Who—or What—is Riri?

As Daybit continues to defer to Riri and the Crypters begin to rejoin Chaldea, something unexpected happens. Whispers begin to circulate. Because to them, Riri shouldn’t be possible. In canon, Riri's success was chalked up to as nothing more than a fluke and the result of her hiding behind Mash by the Crypters (except Wodime but he didn't exactly share that with the class). But in this timeline, Daybit's presence and continual deference to Riri in battle and in decision making as a Master throws that assumption out the window. Mash's deference can be reasoned away because she was just a fancy homunculus to the mages. But Daybit is considered Wodime's peer. There's absolutely no way Daybit would defer to some unknown neophyte without a reason.

The Crypters know Chaldea. They were the elite. Team A was handpicked by Marisbury himself. And yet here’s this complete outsider—a supposed “average” Master candidate who somehow survived the destruction of Chaldea, succeeded where no one else could, and has Daybit of all people in her orbit, treating her like the sun around which he orbits.

They start to wonder: is she really just a lucky survivor?

A theory takes root. That Ritsuka Fujimaru was never just a random candidate. That she may have been the final product of an off-book genetic engineering project—Marisbury’s last, hidden card. A counterpoint to Mash Kyrielight: whereas Mash was engineered to contain a Heroic Spirit, perhaps Riri was designed to command them. A Master refined at the genetic level, optimized for survival, summoning, and leadership.

The fact that she and Mash are inseparable only fuels the theory. Were they meant to function as a paired unit? A living singularity and its anchor? It makes a certain kind of sense because Mash while she was working with Team A never displayed this level of power, initiative, and agency. She couldn't even manifest her servant power in a controlled manner. But if she's essentially a lock just waiting for the key to unlock her true potential, then Riri's presence and their combined success make a lot of sense. And now, with Marisbury gone, has Daybit—forever the outsider among mages—stepped in to claim the prize before anyone else realized what she was?

Even if the theory is false, it spreads fast. It’s easier for the Crypters to believe in a conspiracy than in a miracle.

An Unconventional Romance

Their relationship is not straightforward. For the longest time, Daybit sees Ritsuka not as a love interest, but as a rival—his greatest adversary. He meticulously documents her successes and her failures, determined to surpass her. His “affection” manifests as an obsessive need to learn from her and record everything she does, including moments as mundane as her falling asleep on the command room desk.

He’s oblivious to the fact that this has long since become something deeper. The Chaldea staff eventually catches on, of course. Some even tries to intervene in an attempt to help the poor, socially inept young man with his massive crush... to no avail. Daybit insists that everything he does is so that he can surpass her one day. What? This journal he keeps to record everything about her, even down to her nap time and favorite food and all the little stumbles she makes? Clearly, these are useful data points and potential blackmail materials to be used to devastating effect. There’s even a betting pool on when—or if—he’ll realize it himself. And naturally, there’s comedic potential here: Daybit sabotaging Valentine’s Day to intercept chocolates meant for Ritsuka, criticizing Servants like Dantes for being “untrustworthy,” and insisting on spending every waking hour “calibrating” with her for “operational efficiency.”

Finale: Conflict and Clarity

Hah! Well, I can't put too many details here because I don't want to spoil the plot, but it will involve an alternate Lostbelt 7. This is where it starts for Daybit (and Riri), and this is where it will end. This is the stage of their showdown... and their first big argument (break up! In typical romantic plot!)

It will be explosive! Action! Speed! Car chase! Guns galore in typical American action romance fashion! The young couple meet in battle to resolve their differences! All that jazz!

The Ending: A Declaration

The ending is, in a sense, Daybit's proposal to Riri, in the usual Daybit's fashion. He tells Ritsuka that she is, and always has been, his greatest adversary. That he wants to surpass her. That he will be there at every stumble, and rise beyond every triumph.

It’s a confession in his own language.

And Ritsuka, with tears and laughter and maybe a few swears, throws it right back at him. Yes, she's going to be his rival! Now and forever! Provided he doesn't mess up again! And no he won't surpass her anytime soon, because she's going to try her damnedest to keep the lead on him.

A Story About Belief

At its core, Pygmalion Gazes at the Stars is a story about how belief transforms people—how seeing someone clearly, and choosing to believe in them, can be the most powerful form of love. It’s about alienation and reconnection. Found family. Quiet moments at the edge of the universe.

It’s not just Daybit sculpting Ritsuka into the savior of humanity. It’s also Ritsuka remaking Daybit into someone who, for the first time in a very long time, looks up at the stars and doesn’t feel so alone.

[preciouslandmermaid]

💐💐💐

imagine being a kindergarten teacher who meets reid

maybe its thru JJ, maybe you've got Henry in your class, and she kindly, warmly strikes a friendship with you after Henry moves into 1st grade. and its a little unorthodox but jj and her husband are always willing to help out (when their schedules can allow) with school events and so yeah, you become friends.

and when jj introduces you to her friends/colleagues - there is of course a little bit of an intimidation factor (because hello...they are fbi) but penelope makes you feel so welcome (because of course she does. and you tell her your students would love her. and she offers to teach a tech class and youre like ok they're five but yes let's do it) and morgan shamelessly flirting, and emily being hot and intimidating and then there's reid, quiet, awkward, wont-shake-your-hand reid.

but there's something to it - a mutual nerdiness, perhaps, or how reid doesn't make you feel "stupid" just because you're an elementary school teacher and not a professor at a college (despite the fact that in many places you need a least a master's to teach).

imagine weeks later when you run into reid at the coffee shop. completely random. the sky is gray, uninteresting, and promising rain. he surprises you by remembering your name before there's a shy yet earnest quip when he says he's got an "eidetic memory." and you laugh warmly and spencer thinks its one of the best sounds he's heard all morning.

and it goes slowly from there, but it moves naturally, like a caterpillar forming its chrysalis

(when you tell reid this, somewhere after the 4 month mark since you've long stopped counting individual dates, he says; "did you know the word comes from the greek word 'khrusos' - which means gold - because of the gold color or metallic sheen of some pupae".

and in that moment, that singular moment, you admire the honey-gold tint of his eyes in the late afternoon sun spilling luminescence across the sidewalks and across shiny car windshields and think that you could already see the shape and color of whatever butterfly that was going to burst from its cocoon).

one time you refused to come over his apartment because "the kids used glitter today" and you didn't want to get it all over his place. so he came over instead, and you watched the iridescent sparkles swirl down the bathtub drain together.

imagine spencer reid laying his head in your lap, something heavy and unspoken between you, shaped in the spread of his fingers across your hips, in the erratic pulse of his heart pressing into your shins

the school doesn't celebrate Halloween, but they have an annual "trunk or treat" where people CAN dress up and trick-or-treat out of the trunks of their cars and spencer starts helping you, decorating the trunk with fake cobwebs, and skulls, and eventually diving into convoluted themes that you're not convinced kids aged 5-10 are totally going to get.

"it's jaws." he says, holding a shark head made of paper mache, "you know, the 1975 film? you said we couldn't do slasher horror movies because they're too gory for the kids but i'd argue that this movie stands alone as a great horror film with how Spielberg creates consistent tension throughout the whole film considering we don't see the shark until an hour and twenty-one minutes into the run time."

(the kids don't really get it, it's true. "sharks aren't monsters." they would say, or "sharks aren't scary." or "is this from Baby Shark?" but you and spencer have fun, passing out candy, sharing small looks to each other--so that makes it all worth it).

imagine something soft, sweet, something quiet shared over coffee with spencer. something gentle amidst all the chaos, the heartache, and stress of his day-to-day job.

"I don't know how you do it," you tell him, "seeing the worst of what the world has to offer day in and day out."

his long fingers stroke the underside of your jaw, "i don't know how you manage a room full of fifteen 5 and 6-year-olds." he pulls a face. "especially with the germs."

imagine bringing spencer lunch at the office - earning the knowing, sly looks from his friends and team, knowing you can't hide against a room full of profilers and knowing it doesn't really matter anyways.

:) ok that's all i got. <3

[professional-rat-eater]

Let’s just be super clear. If you ship Daniel and Armand and you genuinely believe it wasn’t a horribly abusive relationship, then you are reading their relationship wrong and you also believe there are circumstances where relationships between kidnapper/abuser and kidnapped/abused can work. Saying it’s just fiction doesn’t make sense because it still doesn’t exist there.

It’s not about the law, or what was common at the time. The relationship is believable. That definitely happened back in the 1970s. It’s not about whether it could have happened, because those relationships still happen in some places. But just because we don't want to use the medical term for the severe damage being done to Daniel’s mind, does not mean it didn’t happen.

There is no context that you could give that would make a relationship between a regular human (a deeply traumatised one) and a grown powerful abuser healthy. It does not exist, even in fiction. Daniel was an actual human and that isn’t how humans work.

Just call it what it is. If that’s gonna be your thing, be honest about what it actually is. If Daniel himself can acknowledge it, then you should be able to as well. It’s impossible to actually discuss these characters if people are just going to lie and purposely misinterpret them. Daniel’s trauma is literally the entire Devil's Minion thing and Armand is all that there's to it. If Armand isn’t an abusive creep, he is simply not Armand.

LMAO! So for anyone seeing this that didn’t see the post that provoked it, this is word-for-word a post I made about Marius and Armand’s relationship but with the names swapped out for Daniel and Armand.

Hey anon, these are not equivalent and I think you know that. Yes, I’m sure there more people like Daniel who were stalked around the globe by ancient vampires in the 1970s. Maybe there’s enough for them to start a support group for each other. And yes, you’re so right that this is exactly the same as real children who are groomed by real adults in the real world. What a fair and reasonable comparison to make that isn’t at all reductive to both DM and the character you’re trying to defend.

I know you probably think this is the call out post of the century but you’ve neglected to consider a pretty significant detail:

Virtually every Devil’s Minion shipper knows they’re toxic, much like Marius fans who understand him can admit to what he is. I know DM are toxic. If I knew Daniel irl, I would be telling him to get the fuck out of there. We all know Armand is evil and manipulative. It’s literally why we like him. I saw how pathetic and fucked up he was and was immediately enchanted by him. You see the difference between that and the specific Marius fans I talk about? We acknowledge exactly what Armand is and enjoy his character for it. We don’t pretend he isn’t a manipulative murderer. That’s (part of) why we like him. Of course that’s not to say there aren’t those who mischaracterise him too, but you responded to me so I can only speak for myself and what I see my mutuals posting about. I love Armand for what he is. All the good parts, all the bad parts, and that is literally all my Marius post was about. Holy shit. It was the singular point I was actually making. You were so close to getting it. I couldn’t give a fuck who your favourite character is, but quit pretending he’s not everything he is because you’re not a fan of him then. You’re a fan of a fanfic version of him.

I think I’ve probably posted at least a dozen times by now about Armand’s trauma shaping him into a monster, but you used DM so let’s go with that. You what’s particularly interesting about them? The many examples of Armand recreating behaviour Marius subjected him to with Daniel. The love bombing, lavishing him with gifts, being incredibly hot and cold with him emotionally, withholding vampirism from him and eventually turning him when he was dying. They’re a deliberate parallel!! Hello!? Terrible example to use!! It’s almost like traumatised people can in certain cases go on to recreate their trauma to try and make sense of it. You can also see this in Armand’s treatment of Claudia. They could’ve bonded over neglect by their makers and being turned young, but Armand decided to take out his trauma on her instead. I love how fucked up he is. Pretty much every Armand fan who gets him is the same. All DM’s existence proves is that Marius actually did deeply damage Armand’s ability to accept love and how he formed relationships, because he’s a fucking predator in multiple senses of the word. Whataboutism literally doesn’t change a thing. Armand could’ve gone after someone underage too and it still wouldn’t change anything about Marius. If anything, it would’ve reinforced it.

But notice how you were forced to acknowledge that Daniel was in fact a grown adult at the time? If he hadn’t been, the ship wouldn’t be nearly as popular.

Most. People. Don’t. Like. Pedophiles. You can’t be this much of a fan of one and be sensitive about it. I’m sorry to be harsh but it’s literally just the truth. Armand fans get enough shit from people who hate him, and it is only going to be worse if you like Marius. I’m not suggesting that’s okay or that I would dream of contributing to it, but it is going to happen more and more after s3 of the show airs. Prepare for that in whatever way is best for you.

You couldn’t even have your username attached to this. If you’re gonna go so hard to defend your favourite pedo, at least have some conviction about it. No one cares who your favourite character is. Well, I’m sure some people do but those people are weirdos and you should learn to ignore them. Love him as much as you want. I’m actually looking forward to seeing him in season 3, even if he is an utter bastard. Just either quit the mischaracterisation or suck it up and get on board with the fact that even in a fictional setting, and even in gothic horror, people do not vibe with pedophiles and they never will.

[oopsiedaisydeer]

oh my god! oh my god! okay. AAAAA. i hit 1k oopsie nation :>

very very overwhelmed by all the love but i am immensely grateful. i started posting my writing (shoutout to my ponyo!au) approx. 52 days ago. 52 days! and now i'm at 1k. wow. wow. means the world! but what means even more to me, and will always mean the absolute world to me, is knowing the following people are my mutuals :> and that i get to call u my friends <3

without further ado, thank you so so much to:

@sturnslutz alexis u were one of the first ppl who like genuinely wanted to be my friend on here !! always so so surprised by how quickly we became friends<3 i love u. keeping it short and sweet :p

@throatgoat4u nini everytime we interact it's positive. i have not a single bad word to say about u and if anyone does i will come for them. trust. you are amazing and i love ALL your stuff and every time u post your writing i appreciate it smm!!!! also u have always been so so kind and supportive of my work,, which means the most. a singular note from u is worth a 100.

@cowboylikenat nat i love talking to u sm and whenever u pop up in my notes i smile. youre so cute and youre so cool and i just wanna tuck u under my wing like a baby bird. i hope that's not weird. but just know i appreciate u. so much. much much love.

@bernardsbendystraws rose idek what to say bc to me u r like the guardian angel of sturniolo tumblr,, you always made it feel like such a safe space to be a part of and i genuinely can't believe how nice and awesome and amazing you are. i love reading ur work, and talking to u, reading ur yaps, and interacting w u in every way. i love you lots and lots <333

@mattsstarlet kitty sometimes i don't know if i want to be you or if i want to date you (acc no it's definitely the latter). ik we joke around a lot but you genuinely mean a lot to me and your accounts is one of my comfort blogs on tumblr <3 as yk i love scrolling thru it, almost as much as i love showering u with praise bc: ur writing is incredibly underrated imho like ts deserves a million notes and bc ur the sweetest angel ever and bc i am in love with you. i'll never stop. i hope you know how much i love you (ah i wrote sm chat i gotta lock in). kisses and hugs to u always.

@strnilolover gabs we only recently started talking but i feel very very lucky every time you msg me just because you are so cool. and i love you. almost as much as mac and cheese (maybe more). never stop yapping to me please i beg. you are amazing. part of me wants you to fix your sleep schedule the other part is kinda grateful that you're awake when i am (timezones can't come bt us). much much love,, u make me more happy than u know !!

@loverboysturn i've said this before and i'll probably say it again. tink, you inspire me endlessly and i love your blog immeasurably. whenever i'm feeling down i scroll thru ur page and i get especially emotional when i see my asks that you've answered (as an emoji anon shdfhfjs). please never stop writing. u inspired me to start writing and for that i am forever grateful. i love you so so much and you provide me so much joy and comfort just by you being you! and thru ur writing !! i love you more than you will ever know <333333

@snoopychris hello gen. fuck you. i have nothing else to say.

....i love you more than all of sturniolo tumblr could conceive in their collective brain (does that make sense). u make every part of my day better. whether it's a message, a post, a note, answering my asks, or even just the thought of u crossing my mind. omg i'm actually crying. i don't know how to even get across how much you mean to me but i am forever and ever grateful that we are friends and that im not just a groupie to u (bc yk i'd accept that fbhsfdhs). i would NEVER have started writing with you. i would not be nearly as happy or as excited about life right now without you in it. if there's anyone i would want to hug in this world, it would be u:> and i don't even like hugs. i would also suck your metaphorical dick. i hope this makes sense. pda makes me nervous:>> i love you so much im just pulling shit out of my ass atp. u will never get rid of me i hope you know. i love you. ok that's it, i'll shut up now.

and to all of u who interact with me:> thank you. thank you so much. you all make me so happy, especially when you leave a comment, or reblog something, or pop into my inbox. and hello to any lurkers as well. i see you. and appreciate u ! if you are reading this! i love you! my goal for this blog is to be silly and to have fun and just make it an overall positive/comforting place to be:> so i hope if u r part of the oopsie nation, u feel that way fdsfshk. much love.

thank you all so very much again <3

and as always, silly, sexy and sad stuff is otw :>

[drdemonprince]

Hey Devon. This is related to community-building ask, as I feel it kinda hit something in me, and that is my frustration with my local queer "main community", who is mostly made up of people who can work/hang together (people in visual and performative arts, LGBT NGOs, event organisers and so on). It's so closed off and so circlejerk-y that it's demoralising. I've been trying to fit in ever since I started being an adult, almost ten years ago, but I have never made any progress on getting to any of its members. I have made queer friends who are wonderful people, and as you said in the previous ask, that is enough and makes a community of our own already. Nevertheless, it is frustrating for all of us to go to a queer space/show/event just to see that the crowd there is made up of people who know each other and talk to each other and make big groups, while we're just sitting there. It brings us down to know that for queer political events like protests (which are ofc organised by them), we have no one left to fall back on except us. It makes it weird when only one of us is able to go protest, they'd rather not go because it feels so lonely to be sitting around all those people who just know each other, who have been passing by us for so many times over the years, and yet never take interest in even saying "hi" or whatever. It makes us think that they're fucking disingenuous and their "community building" is a load of crap. And I don't really want to feel like that about my people, but look at me, after almost ten years in my city, I fucking do.

Hi there, thanks for your message.

Let me just say that while I understand where the perception comes from, the queer people who put on shows, run nonprofits, and go out clubbing are not "The main lgbtq community" in your city. They're just a bunch of cliquish, careerist, young, privileged people who market themselves as such because they've been convinced that's what the "queer community" is and because doing so helps them get butts in seats at events.

I've seen theater kids, drag performers, DJs, comedians, party promoters, and other various people of the attention-seeking arts (said neutrally) do this all my fucking life. They stake a claim on building "feminist spaces" and "anti-racist" spaces, too, among other things, and use those higher values to sell tickets to their shit too. It's a way to make every tragedy that strikes oppressed people into an advertisement for their burlesques and shit. Don't let the self-important myopia get to you.

The real queer community? In any given city? Well, it's not any one thing. There is no singular "queer community". What people often refer to as the LGBTQ community or the queer community is a demographic, not an actual community. That demographic is marketed to, including by fellow queer people, but that does not a community make.

A community consists of people who know one another, and have enduring bonds, and who have shown up for one another mutually in multiple ways. A lot of these hot cool stylish young queer people are actually merely colleagues of one another. When there's a conflict, or a cancellation, or a venue that closes, they will be tossed to the wind like so many dandelion seeds. Compare that to you and your friends, who can and do remain in contact as the seasons of life change.

It is demoralizing to see so many people who talk a big game about community fail to show up to do activist work that is meaningful to you. I can't deny feeling the same way. For many years, I dated an actor who was very plugged into the local scene, and while his theater company had a reputation for being progressive, trans inclusive, even left-leaning, almost nobody in that collective did anything for the broader 'community' at all. They were all too busy being overworked five nights a week for like a $200 per week stipend, writing plays in which they repeated leftist platitudes but did relatively little.

I'm being a big overly cynical here -- the theater did just put on a big pro Palestinian fundraiser -- but the fact is that running a club, a theater, a local education org, or a regular drag show is a business, and in the end the business always comes first. Even when the members of that business might not want it to. They're often extremely exploited and underpaid, which is part of what makes them so hungry to market themselves and maintain their careers. I have sympathy for it. But meaningful social connections and local impact it does not make.

All of which is to say: please try to remember that these people presenting themselves as the symbols of the local "community" are just a bunch of artistic kids who are trying to make a living doing what they love. They're naive, exploited, a little self-absorbed yes, but they're ultimately not that important. they just deal in a very self-important line of work.

There are SO many queer people all around you who never go to those fucking clubs and shows and aren't even on instagram. The "main" queer community, demographically, is more like the nerdy 40 year old gay couple that lives down the street from you who goes out to the movies once or twice a month and holds board game nights with their friends. The "main" queer community is volunteering at the zoo, going camping with their fraternity brothers that they met 20 years ago, working at the car dealership, planting tomatoes at the local community garden, taking care of elders with dementia, organizing weekly running groups.

You can find people like this -- total normies -- who will care about causes greater than themselves and want to contribute to community building efforts. Many of those people are already doing a ton to make community. It's just less sexy and less self-consciously queer than like, the dance parties. It's also more diverse, accessible, and capable of meeting people where they are at.

It does sound like you would like to meet more activist friends / politically engaged friends, and for that I'd say try looking at pro-Palestinian (for example) events and spaces and seeing who turns up there, checking out a local food not bombs chapter, looking up local mutual aid groups or buy nothing groups, getting involved in hyper-local initiatives, and putting what feelers you can on local forums and personals boards (like Lex, local Facebook groups, local Meetup groups, etc). You probably wont find a perfect space, but you will find worthwhile people scattered everywhere you look!

[hakugreenfinch]

i replayed this conversation again today and im finding it very interesting and telling of how curly and jimmy think of responsibility.

i will not go very deep into dissecting how faulty curly is, there are plenty of posts out there about that and i dont want this to just be another.

what i noticed is that curly uses singular first and second person in this scene when talking about what to do next. "you will get through this" "i can fix this", "you" and "i" separately. he knows he should have been keeping his men in check but he doesnt group himself together with jimmy. "you did this, i can try and run damage control as much as possible." to curly, being responsible for his crew means making sure everyone is doing as fine as they can be and helping them out if his help is needed, which is why he offers to do jimmy's evaluation and gets daisuke out of the foam. this is also why realizing that he hasnt been properly looking out for anya gets him so worked up when he finds her in the cockpit and why it, well, breaks him that its too late to keep things together. half of his crew is caught up in something he cant resolve and its his fault that he didnt notice sooner that something is up.

jimmy on the other hand (initially) uses plural first person. its "we failed", its "us". to him curly is not really a separate person who has his own thing going on and it shows even more when he shifts to second person - he slowly pushes the blame onto curly. its what "we" did, its what "you" will be remembered for. theyre like a team where he does whatever and can pull curly out of his pocket and have him take the fall for it. curly's responsibility to jimmy means anything can be blamed on him. i mean its pretty wild to look someone in the eye and say "actually, me raping someone is your fault only" isnt it? but thats what he believes. we see him associating the captains responsibility with another opportunity to play the victim during the third pill feeding too. to him its not about a mutual exchange with those under him where he has to do things for the team to really work as a team, its about everyone doing what he wants and having to do nothing for it.

i dont really have a pretty ending for this. im just very intrigued by the subtle pseudo power play between these two, curly desperately trying to fix something he should have noticed is breaking long ago and jimmy only caring about bringing him down as well if he has to go down, not as in "we are in this together", more like so that he has someone to fall on when hes pushed.

[loviingpedri]

you got a fetish for my love. - pedri

prompt: obsessed pedri is everything.

fwb; not an established relationship



warnings: grammar issues, kinda toxic tbh, explicit/suggestive content (no in-depth details, minors dni), cursing, not proofread,

credits to owners for all images

and there he was, at your door again.

you honestly felt bad for the man.

one call. that was the only thing he needed. he would be at your house within minutes just by a singular phone call.

and you knew he would always answer. because his fear would be that if you would leave him.

standing in your mirror as pedri hugged you from behind. he was admiring every detail of you.

your hair, eyes, eyelashes, lips, teeth, jewelry. he loved every part of it.

and you would imagine you were returning the favor for him.

he wishes.

you reapplied your lipstick. his favorite shade.

thinking to yourself, “what makes pedri so obsessed with me?” staring at yourself more, you knew why he wanted to be nearer. brushing out your hair with your fingers, pedri gently touched the strands.

you knew what he wanted. you wanted it as much as he did. can’t deny his appetite.

every time he visited, the guilt consumed you. both of you couldn’t get enough of each other. you took a deep breath and sighed as he was kissing your jawline, moving his lips down to your neck. he deserved better. someone who could love him. someone who had all the time in the world for him. someone who wasn’t just a fuck buddy. you tried to tell him, but one thing that goes into one ear, goes out the other.

every time you try to push him out, he comes right back. there wasn’t any point of blaming him. it was a situation that neither of you could escape. he’s got a fetish for your love.

as he pulled down the spaghetti strap of your shirt, his voice sent shivers down your back. “if i were you, i’d do me too.” his whispers made your ears ring. it wasn’t a good idea to continue this situationship. you felt like you reached your limit to this. you craved for something more. for real love.

you couldn’t blame him for this. it was a mutual decision made. to you, it was like an automatic vow that you couldn’t catch feelings. it was embarrassing to admit that you failed. you were hooked to his body, like he was hooked to yours.

taking you over and under and twisted up like origami.

“i’m so obsessed with you. the way you walk, the way you talk.” knowing he was smiling while casually doing what he does best, you didn’t wanna push him out anymore.

pedri figured out he was getting under your skin. you usually played hard to get, but something changed in the air.

the rumors among your friends that you were doing each other was already insane. you didn’t want it to be public, but your mind was changing as pedri’s hand was on your shoulder.

you weren’t expecting to catch feelings for him. or were you just trying to sympathize?

feeding pedri’s fetish was done. but what if it was the opposite. all along, you thought it was him who was addicted. what if you had a fetish for his love? it was a valid explanation to why you couldn’t stop calling him. it also explained why you felt lonely when he wasn’t with you. the tables have turned. you couldn’t take it anymore. you were hurt by the thought of him leaving now. the pressure was growing, a need to open your mouth and talk about it.

“pedri,” you spoke low as he was gently rubbing your arm, trying to get comfortable cuddling. “can we talk about something?”

“of course, what’s on your mind?” he kissed the top of your head.

“what if we took things seriously? no more playing around? we can’t keep doing this forever.” the silence was killing you. you were feeling anxious for his response. what if you were just imagining things? what if you only thought he was hurting, but it was only your imagination. what if this was his plan all along?

“maybe.”

[anarchblr]

Perhaps I'm misunderstanding what you mean by civilization? Native people's communities are also civilizations. The Mik'maw, Yaqui, Otomi, Sápmi, etc, were their own societies. The city that is now only the Cahokia Mounds across from the Mississippi River was estimated to have a population of 15-20 thousand. Treaties with native tribes simply weren't honored by the colonies or the newly formed nation... Or the current nation. :/

Computers could be made without human suffering with proper regulations. No part of the process requires suffering - but it's more expense and more work and more care to do so. Those who don't care about others won't bother if they don't have to.

I don't think anything about this is besides the point. You are fighting an uphill battle, and every single thing you say will impact how you are taken and whether your message is actually heard. Like obviously you're just a study blog here on tumblr and that's not what your blog is about, but if you are actively arguing with other people online, what could your purpose possibly be other than to convince them of your correctness? Good speechcraft needs to account for the listener as well.

Saw you mentioned you were translating something from French in a different post. Are you French? I've heard (at least for prose) that French often prefers more florid and beautiful language. Is that true? Would you say there's anything noteworthy or different about your writing styles in different languages? This is not connected to the prior points at all for most people, but I can never separate how language structure can impact not just your worldview but also the way you think about things because it is interesting to me.

Addendum to the last ask about the computer part: Computers should not be made without human suffering. I don't think we're anywhere close to living in a civilization that will actually make computers ethically. Humans clearly don't know how to see the species as one singular "tribe" yet, and we're horrible with scale - but they *could be*. I think it's important not to conflate the two together. If there are computers in a future utopia, it's because humans stopped making them with exploitation and eventually got it right. A nice little sentence that makes it sound easy, but obviously to do so in real life would require a change to our ways of life that people will fight. Everyone feels like they're entitled to the little luxuries they've gotten used to in life. That doesn't mean it's impossible.

1. Yes. You are misunderstanding what I mean by civilization, from the first response to biotipo i defined it as, "a series of interlocking and mutually conditioning set of relations and systems, most notably capitalism and the State —the economic and the political—"; this is not a the first time I've defined it as such, I've said before that "for me Civilization is the culmination of both The Economical and the Political, i.e., Capitalism and the State. You can criticize one without the other, focus your criticism on one side, but in doing so you still attack Civilization, to me anyways. Some uninitiated will simply abstract 'Civ' to mean community, or society, or technological advances"; and that, "civilization is the violent enclosure of the commons, everything else is just built on top of that. It’s not having good manners, it’s not having etiquette, it’s not having a culture, it’s not living inside structures, it’s not having complex tools or intricate machinery, it’s not transportation nor any of these other things commonly confused with civilization. It is the violent enclosure of the commons, a project that has not yet been completely realized. 'Bringing Civilization' to peoples has always meant bringing private property-based relations into those cultures, alienating them from their surroundings . . . It does us no good to keep on confusing matters otherwise."

This, of course, is a contested term even within the anti-civ discourse which is why, I hope you see, I've aimed at clarifying the matter, at very least to myself. In doing so, I hope you recognize that I do not readily equate Society to Civilization; I agree that native communities have their own society, but that not that all of these societies are Civilizations. In fact, I wrote something addressing this as well which I think goes to your point:

Proponents of civilization, understandably, react to anticiv critiques if we take into consideration, in part, a fantastic anti-racist stance devoid of historical accuracy of what “civilization” is; should be noted here, something they, eventually bring up themselves against anticiv anarchists or otherwise demonstrate their ignorance by conflating anticiv with primitivism or civilization with health, stability, or otherwise some idealized form of material, complex progress by way of alleviating hardships of the human race. This anti-racist position is instinctual due to an education inculcated into them that the White Man™ “brought” “civilization” to the “savages” of the Americas. This education at some point became considered outdated by them themselves, and later they were taught that they used to be taught that but that that was offensive because indigenous peoples were “civilized” in their own right, and what European conquistadors and colonizers was genocide, and in doing so, showed themselves as less “civilized” than the peoples they brutalized, raped —genocided. Of course, this is the wrong way to understand “civilization” since it is an academic category and not solely a racist, moral one. Civilizations very much existed in the Americas when Europeans arrived and it's a shame that they're held up as a sort of defense or pride by mestizo nationalists or otherwise misguided anti-racist colonizers because they don't realize that what they're upholding is actually simply intra-amerindian colonization; the “Aztec”, better understood as Mexica, held sway over multiple peoples who were forced to pay tribute, man power, and participate in forced “flower wars” which served, in part, to lessen their potential military force; the Inca would not tolerate refusal to being denied what can scarcely be called “willful admittance” to their empire in pain of being forced into it. I'm less learned on the Maya treatment of their defeated, but they can hardly be considered exemplary given the quickness of their descent which heavily implies a class struggle between the rulers and ruled. Of the Cahokian, much the same from what I've read. The Mexica ruled, or tried to, over multiple peoples some of who manages to maintain some autonomy through struggle such as the Ñantho/Hñahñu otherwise known by the Mexica as Otomí; the Inca rather included and tried to assimilate their conquered so that they felt themselves as part of the empire, a completely different tactic the Mexica took that instead fostered conflict with their conquered. None of this takes away that these peoples where eventually subjugated by European conquerors, for European crowns. Simply pointing out that American Civilizations, understood here by the academic consensus as a society with clear-cut, enforced, social stratification. that is to say, by Class Struggle. You will understand, reader, that Civilization is Class Struggle. Civilization is dependent of subjugation of Peoples. Thus, one nation or more nation's subsistence dependent of the labor of one or more nations. Class Struggle. Thereby, you will also understand, reader, that a certain proponent of Civ will react violently to the spectre of ‘anticiv’ well as they've they been thought to equate “un-civilized” peoples with the “barbarian”, the “savage”, or otherwise a grossly uncouth, offensive understandings of human behavior that deserve to be eliminated from the conversation of what humans —human nature— can do or is capable of; offensive to “civilized” sensibilities. However, we know that ‘bringing civilization’, for example: displacing indigenous peoples as exemplified by the Trail of Tears or the Conquest of Mexico, which was the killing of millions of peoples that would've been the slate upon which European control of what was immediately Indigenous lands/control over who says who can live where, thereby effectively relegating indigenous peoples to near animal/non human status. What is offensive to proponents of civilization is exactly what civilization exacts of its subjects.

1.2 Perhaps some elaboration is needed,

I'd argue that a stronger definition is that Civilization is the creation of economy and State. Not every economy has been capitalism, not every State has been a Nation-State; but everywhere there is an economy there has been a State. [..] the Aztec or Inca [are] acknowledged as civilizations, [..] “Empires” —at very least they are acknowledged as civilizations by acknowledging them as empires. Only civilizations can make empires. If nothing else, the Mexicans certainly regard their native forefathers as a Civilization, brushing aside all the other peoples subjugated under the Mexica triple-alliance. (If there's any that don't get acknowledged as civilizations it is the groups that created the chinampas which would later go on to be expanded upon by the Mexica.)

1.3 To the point of the Cahokian mounds, there was this bit of clarification by one my mutuals,

As I understand, though scholarship on Cahokia has many conflicting theories, there's a significant argument that it was not a civilization or state in the regular understanding, but a meeting-place for hunter-gatherer nomads of a shared cultural tradition. They did farm, and moreso than other cultures, but less so than the major empires in Mesoamerican and Andean cultures. Sort of similar to some of the ancient Old World cultures that developed agriculture but didn't create farm-based civilizations, engaging in something closer to permaculture in a supporting role to hunting and gathering rather than replacing it. I think under that theory, the reasons for its collapse aren't any particularly dramatic class conflict or climate crisis, but just a gradual diversification of cultural practices that made the large-scale cooperation necessary for Cahokia more difficult. (Though I'm sure the Little Ice Age had an influence on this.) There's not much archaeological evidence for large scale wars and conquest in the Cahokian era Mississippian culture, which we would expect if it were an imperialist city-state civilization.

I hope this drives home what my position on what Civilization is, which I had already defined from the first comment I made to biotipo. As Samuel B. wrote:

My understanding of the true nature of industry and civilization did not come instantly. It started, as with all anarchists, with an understanding of state and capital. But here is where most anarchists also stop. The critique and rejection of authority is partially widened to other areas like that of the patriarchy. But industry and above all that underlying authority of all authorities, civilization, remains largely untouched by anarchist analysis. I think this is in large part because the term 'civilization' is poorly understood and falsely described as social-togetherness. If this is the case then consequently there has only been civilization throughout all of human history, since people have always lived together. Yet civilization can be given a particular date: the beginning of the Neolithic Revolution. Humans first started to erect civilization 10-12,000 years ago and laid aside their 'uncivilized' lifeways bit by bit. Civilization was and is not a specific event in history. It has continuously developed and it continues to do so today. From urbanization to governments, states, borders, social stratification, colonialism, expansionism, heteronormativity, patriarchy, police, military, surveillance, control, genocide, and ecocide… all of these are essential features emerging from civilization. A civilization is not shaped by social-togetherness but rather by the centralization of power in a few people. Why then is the authority of civilization not recognized and rejected by most anarchists, who allegedly are against all authority? [A Black Critique of Civilization]

I hope this conclusively shows how I have been using the term "Civilization" and why I disagree with you. Certainly there have been civilizations outside of Europe, but they have carved out this from their most nearby neighbors' subjugation and in no way can be simply equated to the broader sense of "community" or "society".

2. One should hardly be surprised that the treaties weren't honored; what was done to the Amerindian peoples was something that Europe had already experimented with before, the enclosure of the Commons,

As late as 1608, in the newly conquered North of Ireland, the legally established communal ownership of the land served the English as a pretext for declaring the land to be ownerless and, as such, escheated to the Crown. [Friedrich Engels, MECW vol. 24. 1.V, pg. 46]

Per Marx,

. . . when workers were displaced by the means of labor--horses, sheep and so on--direct acts of violence functioned chiefly to make the industrial revolution possible. Workers were forced off the land; then the sheep arrived. The large-scale theft of land seen in England (and elsewhere) supplied large-scale agriculture with the space needed to operate. When this transformation of agriculture was in its early stages, it thus looked more like a political revolution than a revolution in production. [Capital: Critique of Political Economy Vol. 1. Prince University Press, 2024. pg. 397]

Per Engels,

This applies to Germany too. Wherever large-scale agriculture exists in our country, hence particularly in the East, it has become possible only through the clearing of peasants from the estates ('Bauernlegen'), a practice which became widespread after the sixteenth century, and especially after 1648. [Capital: A Critique of Political Economy Vol. 1. Penguin Books, 1976, 1990. pg. 557]

In the same way, treaties were made --if at all-- only to then be disregarded by the colonial powers, is a continued expression of that same centralization of land and resources first experienced by the European peasantry at the hands of their Lords, States, and Bourgeois, something that is now called "Original Accumulation", ursprungliche Akkumulation in German.

So then we can see why property relations developed in Mexico, as an example of the treatment that their indigenous communities are treated like the Yaqui, etc., the way they did under bourgeois rule:

The legal definition of a corporation "included the governments of the traditionally rural towns, or municipalities whose communal property where to be decided from that point on.” The government imposed by the Reforma sought to simulate the private sector and private property, which was befitting of the liberal economists given that during this time frame [..] it was about intensifying the nationalizing process of communal land. Thus, the range of communal property that had been conserved since the precolumbian epoch, the colonial period, and the first years since the [wars of] Independence, were finally sacrificed to the demands of liberal entrepreneurship. Despite the imposition, the dispossessed did not cede in the least, the clergy lost a good chunk of if its economic and political importance, but the military and large landowners survived the expropriation and for the rest of the century enjoyed mostly the same power and social prestige they did beforehand.“ [Fernando Méndez Lecona, "Las Rutas Del Primer Socialismo En México” transl. (2015)]

To conclude this part: No treaty was ever going to be sufficient to hold back the death drive that is the need for capitalist profit, something that can only exist within a Civilization that creates the political and economic. There's no Civilization that has that interest at its heart, especially not in one in which society is dominated by the capitalist mode of production.

3. You are once again misunderstanding things or otherwise misreading my previous responses re: Computers being besides the point.

You see, I never said that computers can't be made without human suffering, however, going back to my responses to biotipo, I said that,

If the anti-civ position is that we stop the production of computers, let it be so because we, anarchists, abhor child slavery and human degradation in all its facets . . . True, you will not find a position explicitly for computers, but that's quite besides the point: the aim of socialism is not to ensure a computer to every single person but rather to upend the logic of capitalism that curtails and contours life such as it exists in order for the accumulation of capital and its consequent effects. If this means an end to workers tied to a monotonous assembly line and the unrelenting extraction of precious metals and resources, then I readily accept that --as said in my previous response . . . I will say that insofar as my studying goes, it certainly doesn't seem possible, at least not in a long-term, sustainable manner that is both in line with a communist set of affairs regarding the abolition of classes nor with a serious ecological commitment to maintaining the planet in any sort of sustainable equilibrium for either human and non-human flora and fauna . . . HOWEVER! [biotipo is] not me, and in fact . . . [writes] that: [They] can think of ways of making computers that don't involve this immense human suffering, that; Computers CAN be built without it; and moreover, that, [they] know people who are actively fighting for it such things. This is, of course, wonderful! Please, tell me, in as precise detail as humanly possible, how exactly is that.

I hope you understand, then, that I wholeheartedly agree with you when you say, "If there are computers in a future utopia, it's because humans stopped making them with exploitation and eventually got it right. A nice little sentence that makes it sound easy, but obviously to do so in real life would require a change to our ways of life that people will fight."

That is a big "if", however.

3.2 Moreover, with my last statement, I made two points:

I am unsure if computers can be made within communism since I take a perspective that is highly skeptic of this; and,

If biotipo 'can think of ways' in which it is, in fact possible, to then lay it out.

As I said in my last response to you, "I'm asking him to spell it out. I certainly don't know how to even make em today, much less in the glorious tomorrow that is anarchy. I think it's fair for someone from the proletariat to ask such questions to would-be 'vanguard' politicos. Afterall, if they want to lead, and lead me, I want to ensure I'm in good hands. This is practical, no?"

I will admit that this was a facetious line of questioning, but I was only responding in kind to biotipo; let us not forget that he, in clearly bad faith asked me, "Can you think of a way of dismantling "civilization" that doesn't involve the deaths of billions of people? Can you tell me the ecological advantages of reducing the world population to either subsistence farmers or hunter gatherers? Can you explain to me why anyone would desire and fight for a world without medicine, without computers, without access to knowledge and science, without sounding like a RETVRN traditionalist?"

What you should take away from this is that, I, and mine, are at least honest in saying that we don't know how things will be organized in the future, in contrast to people like him to pretend to but when set to task instead say,

yo, personalmente no, porque las operaciones mineras son cosas que involucran a cientos o incluso miles de personas "will you get permission" concepto totalmente irrelevante en un estado socialista donde se hacen las cosas para el beneficio de la población en general . . . "are you so charismatic to convince them to work" no, porque los gobiernos no se hacen a partir de un líder despóta carísmatico sino a partir del mandato de las masas que no viste Monty Python "you know people who are fighting for this thing can you name 5" HAY PARTIDOS COMUNISTAS SOCIALISTAS Y DE IZQUIERDA CON CIENTOS DE MILES DE MIEMBROS, ALGUNOS ADMINISTRAN NACIONES ENTERAS Y OTROS ESTÁN EN LUCHA POLÍTICA E INCLUSO ARMADA, NO TODA CONCEPCIÓN DE LA POLÍTICA INVOLUCRA A 5 BOLUDOS MANDANDOSÉ MAILS ENTRE ELLOS

This is, evidently, a long-winded way of saying that, no, they don't in fact know anything about what they mean any better than the people they criticize, but worse off: they don't even want to, but prefer to have someone else involved in the actual process of anything they advocate, to have someone else do it for them: the "hundred or even thousands of people involved" or the "socialist state" or the evergreen "the masses" that these kinds of idiots love to invoke, knowing none of them, not even being able to name five.

I asked of them no more than they asked of me. Surely you can see that.

If you think it can be, and then you also inherit the the explanation. It is only practical, imo.

4. You are right, I am fighting an uphill battle; however, which communist isn't?

D'ya think Marx or Engels or Lenin or anyone else on the actual "left" --for as nebulous as that term is-- had it easy?

This is not a worthwhile criticism in the least;

In any case we will have on events the kind of influence which will reflect our numerical strength, our energy, our intelligence and our intransigence. Even if we are defeated, our work will not have been useless, for the greater our resolve to achieve the implementation of our programme in full, the less property, and less government will there be in the new society. And we will have performed a worthy task for, after all, human progress is measured by the extent government power and private property are reduced. And if today we fall without compromising, we can be sure of victory tomorrow. [Errico Malatesta, Anarchy]

5. Re: my translating in French,

No, I am not French,

Yes, the French, especially in the 19th century, use an overly flowery style,

No, there's nothing particularly noteworthy about my writing styles in any language except that I am more adept/have a bigger vocabulary in some than in others; my speaking does differ rather noticeably in different languages I've been told.

However much linguistics impacts worldview i do not think it does it to any meaningful manner that can't be compensated by in other ways.

6. Happy new years!

[revalition]

OCT 8 - VOLITION

Hold yourself together. Keep your Morale up.

I had to resize this image 3 times to get tumblr to take it... it is also past midnight here, but the day change doesn't really count if I haven't gone to sleep yet, so :)

Volition. My love. my favourite skill. please enjoy. I also drew the volitions of some of my mutuals!! because I love you guys and your volitions very much (holding them gently in my hands). hopefully you guys dont mind and I didn't mess them up too badly

anyway. uhm. I'm much too tired to write anything super coherent right now. please write tags for me or write comments so I can see them when I wake up haha

and! there is a LOT under the cut. like, way more than any of the other days. it is giant. be very careful expanding it <3

ok here goes... I'm typing shorter ones out and screenshotting big ones

--------

VOLITION - Stop, you're only making it worse for him -- you never help with *anything*.

- Rare volition being rude to other skills!!! it only happens under pressure, too

KIM KITSURAGI - "What else could she have done? Lie? She saw there was no way to lie and get away with it."

DRAMA - You would have caught it.

VOLITION - Like hell you would have -- remember?

- you tell him volition!!

SUGGESTION - What is *wrong* with you? Why did you ask to be connected to her? Who *does* that?! Act professional now.

VOLITION - *You* told him to do that stupid thing...

- rare volition callout!!

YOU - Can I trust that guy?

VOLITION - A little. They're all still of limited use, interpreting things to the best of their ability. Maybe they add flair or something? I wouldn't know. I don't add flair.

- this is one of my favs haha. you don't need flair, love, it's ok

VOLITION - Ouch.... That's like twenty points of pride-damage right there, buddy.

- This is after Sylvie turns you down to get coffee. (and you do suffer a point of morale damage haha). him calling you buddy is so funny. it's always mildly condescending too!

- here's the other two:

VOLITION - You're no titan of Volition, buddy. He's got you in a fork. Sit down or leave.

VOLITION - You're a little more moralist now, buddy. A little more *normal*. Even if you didn't want to be.

YOU - "Cryptid extravaganza? I like the sound of that."

KIM KITSURAGI - "And I *don't*. Just one."

VOLITION - Or he'll be *disappointed* in you.

ENCYCLOPEDIA - Whooh... tough choice there.

- volition knows it's truly the most terrible thing haha

VOLITION - An enormous expenditure of willpower to build up strategic semen reserves? You had me at *willpower*. Let's do it!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Life is all about pleasure... why deny it?!

- these two are hilarious. poor echem. but also volition, honey, nono...

- the game implies consequences when increasing your skills too high but you don't see it with all of them. Volition's one you don't really see much downside to, but you can just. Imagine it here. Him pressuring you to do something stupid, just for the sake of it being difficult. Surely that's not healthy??

- I do think Volition has a lot of issues. I'll get into some more of them later though!!

- but just... Harry wanting to do something that *is* a test of willpower and Volition is completely uninterested. But the semen retention thing is okay? sigh

- and then after that, he's just like. nope. we're not going to not swear :)

- he's so stupid sometimes. also it's absolutely hilarious to me that you can pick the "..." option over and over and Volition will match it forever. You simply cannot out-will your own willpower. It's just not possible.

- I actually live for Volition being the singular voice of reason. Look at the others all chiming in!!

- this one too, Volition being the only one trying to stop it! Why are they all piling on?? Composure not you too >:(

- I had excessively high Volition *and* Pain Threshold in my first run and the two of them!!! PT gets very self destructive at high levels, so seeing the relentless push and pull of PT and Volition was so good.

- This line from the description -> "Cool for: Sane People, Well-Adjusted Cops, The Non-Suicidal" yes it's cool for them, sure, but it's incredibly!!! important for NOT these people! Because Volition doesn't make you sane, or well-adjusted, or non-suicidal. He's just the one voice of reason in there trying to veer you away from making irreversibly bad decisions.

VOLITION - She tries to hide it, but some *great doubt* is spreading within her. There is a crown slowly cracking above her head.

- I need to talk about this line. Just. Volition acknowledging the existence of Joyce's own Volition (which he refers to as a crown!!!) cracking! the *great doubt* spreading and cracking apart the crown! hghh I live for any and every depiction of volition cracking apart when morale gets low and this is absolutely one of them.

AUTHORITY - Weren't you warned to *not* go down this path?! And yet you *still* go and do it...

VOLITION - Just because you *can* doesn't mean you *have to* say everything that comes to mind. Back out before the situation escalates.

- these two's dynamic is very funny to me. I love when they work together (but I also love when they fight! fight fight fight!)

VOLITION - Don't ask, don't look, don't do *anything* here. Just go away. Get back to work.

- "Just go away" ugh my guy is fighting for his life here to get you away from the cigarette and alcohol counter in the Frittte

- hghhk Volition. this is a Challenging passive check too (the second one, to hang up). *one* chance, that's all he has in him. It's not possible at all in the dream, no matter how high your Volition stat is. It's just not something he can do. But here, with the distance of the payphone between you and possibly real consequences, he's able to manage one chance.

- (also did anyone see the post about the payphone conversation possibly being entroponetic crosstalk?? I could talk about that for way too long. but I am getting sidetracked)

YOU - "Yeah, I'm done talking about her. I don't want to think about her anymore."

RHETORIC - What a strange choice of words...

EMPATHY - Caustic, overflowing with negativity.

VOLITION - That can't be healthy. What's happening here? Why do you keep coming back to this window?

YOU - Nothing, everything's okay.

VOLITION - But it isn't. And you shouldn't come back to this anymore. This should be the last time. Stop talking about that damn window, please.

- this one too

VOLITION - Throw it away. Please.

- I need to talk about this. Volition dutifully directs you away from all the reminders of Dora. He does everything in his power to stop the final dream from happening.

- And I get it. He's trying to protect Harry. Because Harry isn't mentally stable right now and it could endanger the case. but... at least, when the final dream happens Kim is (usually) there when you wake up. And if all went well, you get to go back to your precinct, and take Kim with you. And Harry has support.

- If the dream doesn't happen... it will happen eventually. There are a million reminders in Martinaise in the span of a week, imagine what Jamrock is like. It's an inevitability. And then you're taking the chance that the dream happens at a time when Harry is much worse off. Maybe he's alone. Maybe Kim left, maybe he was let go from the force.

- The dream could happen at a better time too, of course. we probably all imagine harry picking up the pieces after martinaise and his life finally taking a turn for the better. and I imagine this is what Volition had in mind, by delaying the dream. Maybe it can be delayed for a long time, long enough.

- but it's a huge risk and I just... don't know if he's making the right choice here. keeping important information about Harry's past, which has shaped his relationships and life considerably, in a box so it can't hurt him

- yeah. anyway...

YOU - What if I don't want to ask questions?

REACTION SPEED - You're a cop, Harry. It is *unnatural* of you not to want to ask questions.

VOLITION - You don't have to. No one is forcing you to be a cop.

- Volition??? sometimes this guy makes no sense, he's so funny. I really think he occasionally just does something for the sake of being defiant

EGG HEAD - "Please. Please?" The young man smiles at you widely, bright and innocent as the summer sun.

VOLITION - His pleaful smile is disarming, but you can withstand it's glorious assault, if you just put your heart into it.

- why? why?? don't turn down egg head ever!

VOLITION - Alright, come on now. If *he* hasn't said anything about your lack of pants, no one will. You're only hurting yourself by not wearing them...

- this one is so funny. I love that he lets you know he *knows* you're trying to get a reaction and you're not going to get one!!

- yes volition, stop himmm

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - How very astute of you! This renders it ineffectual. You should look for a *whole* cigarette. Or better yet -- an entire pack! Strike that, a CARTON! Make sure they're all healthy and able-bodied, then smoke them all.

VOLITION - Or -- you could *not* do that. No one is making you.

- volition as usual trying to stop you from picking up bad habits... I just love the way he talks. he's not even telling you not to, just voicing his disapproval in a rather passive way

INTERFACING - Wow, the gods of mass production have made this alcohol container *laughably* easy to open. A child could have done it.

VOLITION - I don't know about this...

- he still doesn't outright tell you not to drink it... :(((

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Fine. We're not worried... you'll crawl back to this bottle soon enough. We'll give you another chance. Booze *always* gives you *another* chance.

SUGGESTION - Yes, it's *merciful* that way. It's your friend. Come back to it, we're all rooting for you to.

VOLITION - Not *all* of us...

- he's the only one rooting for you to not drink it!! he can't stop you. but he is supporting you in the only way he's able.

VOLITION - No. You *can* stop. Just wade through the hell. Month after month. Year after year -- you against the nothingness. It's possible, because *time* is possible.

- He can encourage you!!

YOU - "I *will* stop drinking."

MEASUREHEAD - "THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE. THE GAME OF *SHAH-MAT* YOU PLAY AGAINST THE GUL'S TRICKS IS UNWINNABLE. THE DAYS, THE WEEKS, THE MONTHS WILL WEAR YOU OUT. THE OCCIDENTAL HAPLOGROUP IS INCAPABLE OF LONG TERM LUCID THOUGHT."

VOLITION - NO.

- volition!!! <3 that's all he needs to say.

HORRIFIC NECKTIE - This is it. I'm gonna hit the ground and burn away now. Most of the people in this yard are gonna die -- if not all. Probably you too. It's a COMPLETE DISASTER.

PAIN THRESHOLD - Get ready for a world of pain, man.

VOLITION - No. Not a disaster. Weave this into the story of you. Walk out of its *ruins*. Save those who still can be saved -- *I'm* on your side.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - And the lieutenant too. And the men behind your back, drawing their weapons... you can live. You can get out of this.

- hnngh. this one is among my favourites too. my amazing 1 int run also had 1 motorics. at this point I had failed the rhetoric check to save ruby, failed the logic check to save lizzie, and now failed the spirit bomb throw too and was about ready to cry. Volition's quiet reassurance was very important to me in that moment. EdC too, and I did save Kim.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Your hand trembles as you scratch at your cheek... oh no, that's not how a grown man shaves!

YOU - Leave it for now.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Thank god, I would have cut your throat.

VOLITION - The centipede is exaggerating -- people don't actually cut their own throats when they're shaving. At least not accidentally.

- centipede!!! it's such a funny nickname. alternatively

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Your hand trembles as you scratch at your cheek... oh no, that's not how a grown man shaves!

YOU - This isn't sharp enough. Scrape harder.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Stop, for crying out loud! You're gonna cut your own throat.

VOLITION - There's no way to salvage this.

- these guys are hilarious. why is volition even watching this mess? 'there's no way to salvage this.' ??? I'm not even sure if he's referring to you or H/E... he must be so tired.

ENDURANCE - You feel like you're about to faint and fall off the swing. Your hands get clammy and the air tastes sour to breathe.

HALF LIGHT - Oh god, Harry! Oh god, Harry, what did you do...?!

VOLITION - No! Just nope. Say no to this, Harry.

- more of this!! >:( of volition trying to just avoid anything painful. wake up man.

LOGIC - Everything is so pretty and red -- you and Leo look like brothers as you glance around with similar childlike wonder.

VOLITION - Keep it together, no need to show your wonder.

- why? :( it's not hurting anyone. legendary difficulty passive for volition, high levels of volition are sometimes questionable. I love collecting all these instances of volition making weird suggestions. it's like when people point out really weird things Kim does, that you don't really notice as weird because he does it so calmly and confidently.

VOLITION - Huh... no, Mr. Conclusion. You're always kind of limited in your analytical abilities. That's not *her* fault. But still...

- volition: you're kind of limited in your analytical abilities... meanwhile logic and viscalc and ency calling you stupid and brain damaged lol. vol is so gentle about it!!

- then again...

VOLITION - ...no? He's not going to show up? I'm sorry, your lie detection isn't working. It's not her doing, he's just totally inept. It looks like you're also an idiot. But that's not her fault.

- lol.

RHETORIC - This is good. Clear the air first -- between you two -- then move on to questions.

VOLITION - No, it's not good. It's the opposite of that. This will let her dictate the terms of your...

RHETORIC - Shush. I can't hear what she's saying.

- no. don't ever cut off or shush volition ever again

- >:(

YOU - No-no-no-no...

INLAND EMPIRE - Yes, yes, yes, yes.

VOLITION - No-no, we're not starting with that. Not now. Not this time. This thought is over.

- volitionnnn... ily. my own volition also cuts off dangerous lines of thought for me. I think he's got to be constantly vigilant, in order to be so good at it. must be exhausting :(

YOU - "Can't promise that. I might attack him again." [Leave.]

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant groans, but doesn't say anything.

VOLITION - That's right, you *should* do it again! It's the *last* thing he'll be expecting.

- uhm. not sure that's a good idea!!

VOLITION - You're too weak to say 'no' now. Waking up is the worst part. Maybe somewhere down the line you could decline...

- referring to declining the speed. all volition fails are very sad

VOLITION - Yes, look at yourself. What do you see?

YOU - Just a sorry stack of shit...

VOLITION - Yeah, didn't even know they stack shit *that* sorry.

- beautiful, rare volition scolding you!!!! after you disregard his advice and don't apologize to kim after the church fail. he's on your side, but he also knows he needs to tell you that this wasn't okay.

VOLITION - First the investigation, now this... how many more things do you have to fuck up?

- this one too! same scenario. this is a difficulty 16 (Godly) check...

- yes this again. it just needs to be in here. the volition panic attack. if this volition passive doesn't fire, you take no volition damage. it's completely self-inflicted :(((

PAYPHONE - The headset lands in the cradle with a clank. There it sits -- still warm from your hand. You have no idea what just happened.

(heal 2 endurance and 2 volition)

- if you hang up the phone before dora picks up!

VOLITION - He subdues the feeling. Dusts himself off and moves on. So should you. There will be other chances.

(heal 2 volition)

- if Kim misses getting a picture of the phasmid

HORRIFIC NECKTIE - The necktie is guiding you through this. It's your spirit animal, both your nemesis and friend. Suddenly a feeling of ease brushes through you -- you're fine again.

(heal 2 volition and 1 endurance)

AUTHORITY - That... was the most honourable thing anyone has ever done, Harry.

(heal all volition)

- very special incidences of healing more than 1 volition at once!! the fact that healing/damaging morale is just directly called heal/damage volition in the variable naming is. yeah. I think about it constantly. does it hurt him? I think it does. and he never says anything about it (unlike endurance!) he just bears with it quietly.

VOLITION - In honour of your shit, lieutenant-yefreitor. Which you kept *together* in the face of total, unrelenting terror. Day after day. Second by second.

INLAND EMPIRE - DETECTIVE

ESPRIT DE CORPS - ARRIVING

AUTHORITY - ON THE SCENE

- obviously this one has to be in here. funnily enough, in my second playthrough I had 2 PSY but everyone had been bumped up enough that they all fired except authority... I ended up throwing a point into authority and retrying the dialogue so it could be complete haha

VOLITION - What? I thought you had your shit together! This is nearing a complete meltdown! Stop it!

- volitionnn :( if you don't stop you have a panic attack, so I guess he's only trying to help

- this is too funny. volition honey, you absolutely do add flair too

YOU - Oh, you mean Cuno?

VOLITION - Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!

- yup, absolutely no flair. Super. Tip-top!

VOLITION - These guys are compromised. She's got them singing along to her tune. The little bleeps and bloops you trust for info -- you can't trust them anymore.

- it would be a crime to not include the bleeps and bloops in here! why does he call them that?? haha

- rare instance of volition not being able to stop the disaster!

INLAND EMPIRE - Your surroundings are undisturbed. While you slept, you were alone. Now that you're awake -- you're still alone.

HALF LIGHT - Get the fuck out of here. Fuck this place, fuck this world, fuck this life, fuck this body -- just fucking go.

SAVOIR FAIRE - The sheets are stained red. Your blood's been running again. Keep it together. Just get out of here and finish this fucking thing.

VOLITION - Harry... I know there's not much to say -- but if nothing else, just remember that you've made it this far. And it's just a bit farther now. Let's finish this.

- this is just. it's awful, if you have the final dream all alone. but at least you have volition with you

DICK MULLEN AND THE MISTAKEN IDENTITY - Dick Mullen was made to crack skulls and solve cases. It's who he is. He could no more stop being a detective than a tiger could cease to be a predator in the night.

VOLITION - You're no tiger, though, Harry. You're a man. It's your curse to have to choose.

- I like this one.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - That sugary black rum stain on the counter makes you teary-eyed with joy. It's almost touching how syrupy and sticky it is. How long have you been up already?

YOU - Not now.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Oh *excuse me*, do you have something better to do than lust for sweet syrupy rum and lemonade? With a twist of lemon? Maybe lime? Maybe who cares, just rum?

VOLITION - Yes, you do have something better to do. Stop drooling over that stupid rum stain and go. Before it's too late.

- this is a challenging (difficulty 12) check! it's very difficult to resist the sticky rum stain I guess

YOU - Give up.

LOGIC - There we go. Your mind is a relaxed muscle. It's so nice and easy to give up, isn't it? On the downside -- you have no idea what you were supposed to do now. I could have *debriefed* you.

VOLITION - Blissful idiot -- say something. You've stood there for too long.

- blissful idiot

VOLITION - Don't be an idiot and say it. In this day and age, of all times. It won't end well.

- once again, volition pushing you away from the bi-curious thing. :( he just wants to keep you safe, but it comes at a cost.

- you can't just wrap harry in bubblewrap, volition. he'll never grow

- volition absolutely saving the day here. do NOT say it harry! authority's advice is SO hit or miss

VOLITION - It's time to leave it be. You're about to make a child cry. Are you proud of yourself?

YOU - Damn right I am! Proud as the Lion of Serber.

VOLITION - Excuse me, I'm not sure I heard that properly...

- volition ily. he has to deal with so much.

VOLITION - Should we? He's *nice*. I don't like *nice*.

- this is so funny. he's very suspicious.

VOLITION - Look at it, detective. And be ashamed. Until you make it right by *legally purchasing* that raincoat, I'll make sure you feel guilty every time you see it.

- YES YES conscience volition!!

YOU - Close the carabiner.

SLEEPING DOCKWORKER - The sleeping dockworker has little to say about your actions. He remains silent.

VOLITION - You're not 100% clear what you did here was *right*, but to hell with it...

- only sometimes!!

VOLITION - I can't restrain this one. The need to *cop* is too strong. You just need to ask it.

- why are you trying to restrain copping??? this guy, sometimes. he's so stupid (affectionate)

VOLITION - That's it. I'm calling it. Kim is beyond compromised.

- uhm. volition completely overcompensating with the compromised skills is quite funny. once drama wakes up, he does it too

VOLITION - See? It's oddly moderate. Probably compromised.

- oddly moderate now means compromised??

- this is it. this is volition's only comment on this disastrous authority fail. he makes no attempt to stop it!!

VOLITION - Being Cuno's pig has a steadying effect on your hand. Go with the flow, man...

- volition's so silly sometimes

DAMAGED LEDGER - You feel that thing in the back of your head? That little voice, that quiet scream? You already felt this was a bad idea, but especially right now it's even worse. Try as you might, you can't read it now.

VOLITION - You've got *business* to deal with first. Talk to the Union boss first, at least... I can't stop you for long, but there's just enough of an excuse now.

- Volition fighting for his life to stop you from reading the letter :,(

VOLITION - If it's possible, then by pure willpower alone. You are going to have to become... a psycholocomotor.

- that is *not* a real word but we love you anyway vol

LOGIC - Is that how it is now? We should just try all good things *twice* and then give up? By that logic...

VOLITION - Not you too...

- he's all alone out here :(

VOLITION - Someone's been a very busy boy. Good on you...

- thank you...?

VOLITION - *Very* off. Just let her go. Listen to me for once...

- for once?? :((( but if you try...

VOLITION - I can't help you. I am totally useless. Everything I've said is lies. I want the exact same bad things you want. To stand here, like a pillar of salt, saying...

- this is probably one of the saddest lines. all the skills falling apart in the dream is awful, but volition might be the worst. it's also very important that volition *does* want the exact same thing you want. He wants to drink and smoke and think of dora and die. And he chooses to resist it anyways. To be the only thing standing in your way. But it's to the point where it's all he knows. He knows that he has to resist the things he wants, and will occasionally take it too far. Keeping Harry (and himself) from things that will make them happy. In the setting of the game, Volition keeps things together and on track. But once Harry is back in his normal life, it will become very much a double edged sword I think. Luckily(?) it will self balance a bit, where if Volition prevents Harry from being happy then he'll lose morale, weakening volition, and then vol won't prevent harry as much and it'll balance out. hopefully.

VOLITION - Despair creeps into you, getting fat on your weakness. Whatever noble intentions you once had as a police officer -- it's eating them all up now.

VOLITION - Nothing you can say would make you feel any better now...

- 😭 I hate this, I hate the volition death. the endurance one is really painful too, but this one's painful in a different way. Volition isn't getting back up from this. the awful newspaper clipping saying you go to live under a bridge... that's what happens when you let volition die?? if any of the other skills (except endurance) drop to 0 you can just raise them back up, but vollll.... ugh.

VOLITION - Listen... It's okay to take a few minutes to yourself. Sit down and have a breather.

ENDURANCE - You need to rest. Your body is aching. Getting in here has taken something out of you. Have a seat.

- our two health pool boys encouraging you to take care of yourself <3

YOU - "Kim, can *you* see it?!"

KIM KITSURAGI - "I can see it."

VOLITION - Four simple words -- thank god. If he can see, then you're not insane.

- this one is obviously very important.

YOU - "I've finally gone insane..." (Put your head in your hands.)

[...]

VOLITION - My god... maybe you *are*.

- if Kim and Cuno aren't there, and your Volition is really low, you get this very sad fail. :(

VOLITION - True, you ought not love ruins and hell -- and the fading scent of apricots.

- I like this one.

WASHERWOMAN - "I *can* wash it for you," she says after looking the jacket over, "but it's going to take about a half an hour. Think you can stay put for that long?"

VOLITION - Hell yeah!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - No, we must run around ceaselessly. It would be torture to stay put.

- I really really love him.

YOU - "By the way, I'm going to sing karaoke here."

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - "Absolutely out of the question."

VOLITION - You wait and see, cafeteria manager!

- volition will not be told no!!

VOLITION - No one can STOP you from finding the phasmid.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - WHAT IS HAPPENING TO YOU?!?! Are you going to CRY now, son?

VOLITION - You heard the coach! This is weakness. It cannot go on much longer, or you will LOSE.

- these guys are great. coach!

YOU - Right. Activate Denial Mode.

VOLITION - You're not really an automaton, you do know that?

- oh, thank you for the insight volition

- even your most willful, imaginative skills know this scope creep was insurmountable...

DRAMA - But we *are* awake, sire! She has been forthcoming -- with sordid details women usually conceal! Most *shocking* details of the sexual kind! We are a bulwark, un-breached...

VOLITION - You've been breached, bulwark. You've been breached, like, a thousand times now!

- nooo poor drama (volition is right)

- Volition trying to reassure you after the Tribunal is very important.

- SO TRUE.

DRAMA - This may have been a *grave* mistake, sire.

VOLITION - Maybe. Maybe not. Mercy is rarely a *complete* mistake.

- I really adore this quote.

I think I'm going to leave it here. I haven't included some quotes that I put in other posts already but I might add them in later to have a comprehensive Volition post... But I've spent like 4 hours on this already so I'm giving it a rest for now :)

[ilikekidsshows]

I’d hate to add to your messages talking about mlb, but if you’re not tired to rant about mlb yet, I wanna discuss how so much of this is caused by fans just not accepting the humanity of abusers and the neutrality of love. Like, feeling sympathy for abusers is not only normal, but almost expected in an abusive relationship. It’s why so many people stay in abusive relationships! Abusers are not always monstrous villains that hold you hostage through inescapable violence, often it’s your own feelings and sympathies that hold you hostage, because abusers are human too! And they can love you! Treating love as this ultimate source of goodness and light has done so much damage, because it really tricks people into thinking that if someone loves you they can’t hurt you, and if they hurt you then they aren’t sympathetic.

---

Exactly. That’s it 100%. The Miraculous fandom debated for literal years if Gabriel really loved Adrien or not because they had such a difficulty wrapping their head around the idea that Gabriel could abuse Adrien while still loving him. And, like, that’s specifically the biggest trap of parental abuse. Parents think that, as long as they’re loving, their behavior towards their kids can’t be abusive, and, when, years later, their grown up kids want to go no-contact due to the abuse, they feel like their child has spurned their love. Sometimes the kids grow up and say: “my parents did (insert abusive thing) but I wasn’t abused, I was loved.”

Similarly, a lot of abuse victims do stay in abusive relationships because there’s mutual love there, they can either think or hear others say things like: “they really love you” and “it would hurt them so much to never see you again”. People have heard of “lovebombing”, abusive behavior being followed up by extravagant expressions of love, and gone “ah, I see, so abusers only pretend to love their victims to get them to stay,” but that’s also not how it works. Sometimes the cycle is purposeful, but sometimes the abuser does lovebombing accidentally, because they realize they’ve overstepped and want to make up for their mistake. Abusers can genuinely regret their abusive actions, but it’s the lack of breaking away from these behaviors instead of merely making up for them that turns singular actions into abusive behavioral patterns.

Abuse doesn’t happen just because someone goes: “I think I will abuse my child/significant other/etc today”, it happens because some people use power in different forms against their loved ones, sometimes because they want to feel powerful, sometimes because they’re really stressed out and can’t be bothered to negotiate in a respectful way and sometimes they think they know better and the other party needs to be “persuaded” to take their good advice. Not all abusers are evil monsters who enjoy the suffering of others and thinking that’s how abuse works is naive and overly simplistic. It provides cover for so many abusers, because very few humans are so rotten that they never manage a genuine kind gesture towards someone.

The people writing Miraculous think remorse and separate kind gestures are enough to stop a character from being an abuser even when their behavior keeps coming back to the same abusive patterns. Gabriel making pancakes for Adrien in Season 5 and letting him quit modeling was supposed to be build-up to his vindication as a good person who only wanted the best for Adrien (ignore how he still mind-controlled him and put him into a sensory deprivation cell). Similarly, André making up for all the time he doesn’t spend with Chloé teaching her right from wrong by buying her expensive gifts means that he was a good father who did his best and he can’t be blamed for Chloé turning out the way she did (somehow Astruc is able to see Chloé has been “taught wrong” but can’t seem to be able to point the finger at the person who taught her to begin with).

The parents in Miraculous have done irreparable damage to their children, but, because they genuinely regret their actions and love their children, and most importantly, never hit them (because that’s the real abuse), their children are expected to accept and forgive their parents. I’d love to hear Astruc and crew’s thoughts on the parents of no-contact adult children whining about their kids abandoning them on Youtube.