#their whole motivation centers around caring for humanity and the people they love

[roseofcards90]

I just woke up from a nap and lowkey recovered from an ocd flare up but I truly do hate when fandoms downplay the relationships characters have with each other and water them down to fandom tropes/jokes it just fucking annoys me especially when said relationship has a lot of complexity and it ends up affecting the characterization of the characters involved too that they become misinterpreted/watered down/ flanderized in the process 😭

[liquidstar]

arc 4/season 2 of re:zero really did have a bunch of sets of siblings with lots of focus on them. it seemed to be a bit of a recurring theme for the season. family bonds as a whole were really important, especially where the backstory was concerned, but in contrast to that, the sibling relationships seemed to be about moving each other forward. in different ways though...

like, you have frederica and garfiel. they're estranged half-siblings, but frederica still obviously cares so much about her little brother. the reason she left was because she wanted to make a place for him and the rest of the people in the sanctuary in the outside world. garfiel was stuck inside the past, fearing the outside world for what happened to their mother. but when he finally faces his trial again, it's the memory of his sister that gives him the motivation to move forward.

similarly, in emilia's second trial, it's her conversation with archi that enables her to face the present for what it is. even though trial archi seemed to be pushing her towards the world of the trial itself, that's exactly what reinforces her will. with her memory of the real archi, she calls him "big brother" for the first time, and she thanks him for always being worried about her. the sad thing is, unlike all of the other sibling duos, archi has already been dead for a long time. but even then, like we saw in the first trial, he gave his life because he wanted emilia to keep moving forward.

and in otto's backstory too... he spent most of his childhood completely unable to interact with the world around him. the constant noise was too overwhelming, to the point that he couldn't actually hear anything else. he had no way to understand or communicate his feelings. and though his parents did their best to understand him, he was still stuck in this state. it wasn't until oslo decided to teach him how to write that he was finally able to express himself. despite the fact that it was harder for otto than other kids, he finally managed his first real message to his family, "thank you for everything." and with that, he cried for the first time since was born, and was able to move forward again.

even the antagonists this arc are siblings. meili and elsa dont get as much focus into their relationship as the others (not for this arc at least), but one very obvious development is that elsa has someone she cares about. elsa "bowl hunter" granhiert, a serial killer/assassin/vampire who takes great pleasure in watching people die, and tearing out their organs, has a person she cares about. this is a humanizing trait for her, and that's on purpose. loving meili literally makes her "more" human. someone that she's also willing to give up her life for. and later on, in arc 6, we see just how much elsa's death impacted meili and how she hasn't been able to move forward since that day.

this theme is even more noticeable in the negatives too. in rem and ram's case, who have already been set up as a matching set all the way back in arc 2. they're identical twins, they've loved each other literally since they were born. ram awoke her powers as a newborn just to save her crying sister. they share a deep and powerful bond. but... what the hell happens when that goes away? because rem had her name and memories eaten, ram forgets she ever had a sister. her character digresses, her entire world is now centered on roswaal, she's more devoted to him than she was before. without her sister, ram moves backwards.

and of course, there's the sibling duo that this entire season centers around- subaru and beatrice. i've talked before about how subaru's relationship with echidna and roswaal is like a foil for his relationship with his actual parents. subaru has been raised living in the shadow of his father, but his actual dad never once forced him into it- he encourages his son to stand on his own and be his own person. roswaal is the opposite, he corners subaru in an attempt to make him a mini roswaal. subaru's mother was always watched him closely, but never made his choices for him. echidna is the opposite, where she wants to manipulate and control subaru's every action to satiate her own goals and desires.

but echidna is also beatrice's actual mother, which places beatrice in the role of subaru's sister in his fucked up found family echidna had created. but beatrice and subaru were never forced together, they chose each other. beatrice was left alone in a library for 400 years, abandoned by her mother and left to wait for a person who would never truly come (who never truly existed). she has been stuck for so long, unable to break her chains. but the action that finally does free her from this stasis is when subaru asks her to choose him. the only way for them to escape this "family" and move forward was for them to choose each other.

[notoneglance]

Why the takoyaki amnesia doppelganger episodes???

So I think we can all agree that this whole plot line in Blade was wild and peak Inoue and definitely a comedic break in between two emotion heavy arcs. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t do anything for the narrative. Despite being a huge departure in tone from the rest of the show, it does actually fit thematically and in terms of character development.

As a refresher, the arc I’m talking about happens in episodes 29 and 30 of Blade where Hajime briefly loses his memory and meets an identical-looking guy who convinces him to switch places for a bit. This guy, Mikami Ryou, is the heir to a takoyaki-making group in fierce competition with a taiyaki group and knows nothing of the Undead.

As silly as this whole premise is, the “prince and the pauper” style identity switch thing is a well-established trope often used to explore a character and their situation, just as it does here in Blade. There are intentional parallels between Ryou’s life and Hajime’s, despite their completely opposite personalities, and by switching them around, this arc both gives us a new lens on Hajime as a person and foreshadows the ending of Blade.

So let’s recap Ryou’s situation: 

He’s the son of the head of an intensely competitive takoyaki-making gang, the Iroha clan, and was raised into this job. He doesn’t seem to have anything against making takoyaki itself—we first see him enthusiastically working at a stand—but he isn’t actually part of his father’s group. In fact, he hates the pressure to be involved in the conflict to the point where he switches lives with some random stranger just to leave it all behind. Part of this is because he is dating Michi, the daughter of the head of a rival taiyaki-making group who also seems a bit distant from her family. Both Ryou and Michi’s fathers discourage them from being together, each believing that their child is being “deceived” by their competitor.

Does any of this sound familiar?

The Battle Fight has way more going on than the simple two sided takoyaki vs taiyaki rivalry, but from the pov of the audience, it can be simplified into an Undead vs Human Kamen Rider fight. The show explicitly draws parallels between the two fights. When Ryou’s father says he wishes that Ryou would join the Iroha clan so that they could “win and survive”, Hajime despite his amnesia is instantly reminded of the Undeads’ motivation to do exactly that. 

Like Ryou, Hajime was raised in this competition but does not particularly want to fight, instead forming a connection with someone on the other side—Kenzaki.

Actually, the whole “win and survive” thing is really interesting. Because of their circumstances, both Ryou’s father and Hajime fully believe that their survival is dependent on winning. It’s a kill or be killed world out there, and even if Hajime is starting to wish that there was some other way, neither of them are willing to let themselves lose. I’ll come back to this point later, because neither actually end up needing to win in order to survive.

Anyway, we have a bunch of similarities between Hajime and Ryou’s situations, but what does that actually tell us about Hajime (other than that he and Kenzaki are in love)?

Well, first off, having those similarities sets up space for a distinct contrast to highlight some aspects of Hajime’s character. The plot going on with the Blade squad and the fake Hajime centers around Hajime’s humanity. In the beginning of episode 29 before Hajime loses his memories, Kotaro accuses him of not having enough human emotion to care about what happens to Shima’s bird Natural. When he is replaced by Ryou, Kotaro thinks that the personality change was due to Hajime taking his words to heart.

These episodes emphasize that Hajime isn’t human and he’s definitely not the friendly and open person that Kotaro seems to want him to be. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing and it doesn’t make him dangerous.

Most of the people besides Kotaro are just confused by Hajime acting so out of character, and Amane actively rejects this false Hajime. Even if Kotaro is happy about Hajime acting differently, he’s an outlier, and probably the only one in the group who has ever really held negative feelings for him.

Just like how Kotaro prefers the new Hajime, Michi initially prefers Hajime to the real Ryou, actively choosing to claim that this imposter is Ryou despite knowing otherwise. Ryou’s father goes along with it too, even after it’s implied that he has also figured out that this man is not his real son. Unlike Ryou, Hajime is focused and strong—a fighter. In the rivalry between the takoyaki and taiyaki groups, Hajime is the one who has the determination to “win and survive”, to fight for the Iroha clan.

We see the opposite on the other side as well, that Ryou is not a fighter. When thrown into a situation where an Undead attacks him, he runs away screaming rather than holding his ground. Which is a perfectly reasonable reaction for a regular human!

The part where the idea that “Hajime is superior to Ryou” to the people in Ryou’s life falls apart is when it comes to the emotional bonds. 

Kotaro might be wrong about Hajime not caring about people in general, but there’s no reason for him to specifically care about the people Ryou loves. When Michi asks the fake Ryou if he loves her, Hajime replies that he doesn’t know what love is, upsetting her. Hajime spends most of this arc confused and not really invested, vaguely going along with the events without particularly asserting his own will, whether others are expecting him to be a takoyaki maker or Michi’s boyfriend. He doesn’t have any real stake in all this drama because he doesn’t actually know them—he’s not their Ryou.

However, things get switched up when Ryou comes back and declares himself as the real Mikami Ryou.

Both Michi and Ryou’s father initially insist that Hajime is the real one, culminating in a takoyaki vs taiyaki bake off competition between the two Ryous, where both characters that previously seemed disinterested become fired up, breaking out of the lover/fighter dichotomy that has thus far been set up.

Despite running away from the fight, despite running away from his life, Ryou does actually care about his girlfriend and father, and he wants them back. He doesn’t actually want to leave them behind or for them to leave him, so when push comes to shove he stands up and puts his whole spirit into the competition in order to get back his life. Later, when an Undead comes to interrupt the competition, Ryou stands his ground this time, risking his life to defend Michi. 

Afterwards, Ryou puts a stop to the fighting between their two families by uniting them through marriage—something that Hajime was never capable of doing despite also almost getting married to Michi—because Ryou is the one that genuinely loves both Michi and his father. And when it comes down to it, they choose the Ryou they know and love over Hajime even if he seemed outwardly better.

Ryou isn’t naturally a fighter, but that’s fine because he can when the situation calls for it, and his reluctance to fight is what allows him to find a solution to this rivalry that benefits everyone rather than just one side.

Meanwhile, Hajime also participates in the “who is the real Ryou” competition not because fighting is just what he does, but because he cares about people in general. 

Even though these are strangers that he has no real personal ties to, Hajime feels a connection with Ryou’s dad and his motto for the clan to “win and survive”. Which makes sense, since it’s basically the whole idea behind the Battle Fight, even if he does not remember it. The first time that Hajime made takoyaki, it was extremely half-hearted, just knocking ingredients over into the pan with a confused frown, but now he is fully putting all of his effort into this competition because of his desire to see the Iroha clan succeed.

When the people he loves are threatened, Ryou acts against his nature to protect them. We don’t see this parallel on Hajime’s end here, since none of the Blade squad are in danger this arc, but we’ve seen it happen so many times before with Hajime saving Amane and Kenzaki and even Kotaro that one time. Even without showing it, by having these parallels, the show reminds us of this aspect of Hajime’s character.

The point of the Ryou/Hajime contrast in these episodes is to show that Hajime is an Undead, a fighter—and that he also is someone who cares about people because these two things are not actually mutually exclusive and in fact tie into each other. 

In the end, the thing that brings Hajime’s memories back is twofold: the memory that he is the 53rd Undead who will cause everything to be destroyed if he wins, and the memory of Amane saying his name.

That is a good set up for the next arc of the show where the other characters find out that Hajime is the Joker and what exactly that entails, and we start seeing more of the conflict in Hajime between his instincts to win and destroy and his desire to live a human life with the people he cares about. Having this more solid understanding of Hajime, of his strengths and shortcomings and the way he fits among the other characters, is important groundwork for the new set of information and conflicts.

But there is one last thing these episodes do, which is to foreshadow the ending of Blade.

The interesting thing about these episodes is the way that the taiyaki/takoyaki rivalry gets resolved: not by one side winning over the other, but by both sides surviving through Ryou and Michi’s marriage.

In Japan, when two people get married, legally one of them is no longer part of their birth family and is instead becomes a part of their spouse’s family. It can be either the husband or wife, though in practice it’s usually the wife that marries into the husband’s family, as it appears that Michi does here. Socially though, marriage can be viewed as more of a merging of two families, as is seen with Michi’s father also calling Ryou his son.

In the end of the show, the Undead/Kamen Rider conflict is resolved in a similar if more tragic fashion. 

There does not have to be a winner to the Battle Fight for both Hajime and the world to survive. Just like how Michi joins Ryou’s family to bring peace, Kenzaki ends up physically changing species into an Undead. Meanwhile Hajime does not physically (or legally) change his status, but he socially becomes human by living among them.

Despite the goofiness of the takoyaki episodes, Kamen Rider Blade as a whole is a more serious show. Their conflict—between the Undead and humans, between the characters and destiny—cannot be so easily resolved. While Michi and Ryou join each other’s families and get to live happily together, Kenzaki and Hajime can only partially trade places as species and are unable to ever see each other again, not really resolving the conflict of the Battle Fight but only putting it on hold.

Still, even if Hajime and Kenzaki are left separated and connected only by the violent demands of fate/God/the Overseer of the Battle Fight, there is a lasting bond between them. It’s not for nothing that the ring designed off their combined character motifs is called “eternal marriage”. 

TL;DR: The takoyaki episodes are important in how they set up Hajime as a character in preparation for the Joker arc and also foreshadow how Hajime and Kenzaki get symbolically married to bring peace

[de-sterren-nacht]

I really like how, in Jojolion, all the human antagonists are given depth and justification for their actions, and are clearly motivated by things other than greed or personal gain, because it creates this really interesting contrast with the rock-humans once they start showing up. The rock-humans don't have these same kinds of complexity to them. Sure, a few of them have sad or sympathetic backstories, but this doesn't really change their motives to be more nuanced (Wu Tomoki claims to have a selfless motive, but he would take a whole essay to himself to discuss, so suffice to say I believe his primary motivation is pure ego). Even Toru, the main antagonist, is devoted solely to his own gain, with no sign of any compassion or greater ideals, breaking from the form Araki followed for the previous two main antagonists, Pucci and Valentine, who were not necessarily good people, but absolutely not motivated primarily by selfishness. Why is this? Why are rock-humans written like this?

Because rock-humans are not humans.

(more under the cut)

Jojolion is a series that opens with a question, a very simple one, but one with a very complicated answer. Who decides who you are? How are you supposed to know who you are? How are we, as humans, meant to find our identities? We see this most prominently with Josuke, of course, as he searches to uncover his past and create a new identity for himself, but to a lesser degree it's spread all across the entire manga. Eventually, the conclusion Araki lands on is that what defines who we are is our interactions with others. Friendships, romance, family, even adversarial relationships, all of these define our identity. Our selfhood takes form when we mingle with others. Again, the most extreme example of this is Josuke, who is quite literally the result of Josefumi fusing himself with Kira to save the latter's life; Josuke is the result of two distinct identities being combined into one. And near the end of Jojolion, Araki reveals something about rock-humans that ties rather directly into this theme.

When rock-humans are born, their mother immediately abandons them. Their father is never around, for reasons I will explain shortly. The newborn is placed in the woods and forced to use the powers rock-humans have to fend for itself for the first 17 years of its life. Completely alone. Rock-humans do not need other people around for their psychological and mental development. They somehow intuitively obtain a fluent grasp of language and knowledge of essential facts of reality and modern society (mathematics, laws of physics, social interaction) without even observing these things. Rock-humans spend the most formative years of their life completely alone. And so the identity they create is one that is completely self-centered and individualistic. They rarely act as a unit, except for mutual self-benefit. They form bonds with other rock-humans, sure, but bonds that they form with humans are doomed to fail, even if genuine love was felt on the part of the rock-human (as we see with Dolomite and Aisho), and there's really no examples of serious bonds between rock-humans. They act without care for morality and without any sense of restraint, and take life without hesitation. They torture the main characters on multiple occasions. The plan of the main antagonists, TG University, heavily involves nonconsensual human experimentation with devastating consequences to the health of the victims. Excepting two instances of romantic interest (which can still easily be construed as selfish), rock-humans display a callous disregard for the lives and wellbeing of others because others simply do not matter to them. They cannot matter to them.

If you assume Jojolion is saying humans form our identities from our interactions from others, and you accept the facts Jojolion presents you about rock-humans, there is one logical conclusion to be reached.

Rock-humans are not human, because their identities were formed alone, and cannot mix with the identities of others. Humans, Jojolion says, are complex; capable of cruelty, violence and murder, but also of kindness, gentleness and compassion, and when they commit cruelties, it is frequently in service of the ones they love. Rock-humans, Jojolion says, are simple; capable only of that which serves themselves. They are tragic in their cruelty. Rock-humans are more than just monsters made of stone. They are a condemnation of individualism, of egoism, of objectivism, of any idea that claims a human can exist entirely on their own.

To conclude: in the final appearance of a rock-human in Jojolion, Toru dies alone, pleading for Yasuho to help him without receiving even a single word in response. Two chapters later, in the final chapter of Jojolion, Yasuho sheds a tear at the sight of Josuke finding a family he can belong to.

[payphoneangel]

This passage for the DVD commentary 🥲🥲🥲

BIRDIE!!!! KILL ME DEAD!!!!

Ok this is going to be SO LONG but there's a lot to unpack here.

for anyone curious this is the fic I will be talking about and the ask is based off this post.

oh where do I even BEGIN with this one. Okay. Okay so for this voicemail I had a few ideas I wanted explore.

Dean's relationship to alcohol

Dean's relationship with Jack

Dean's anger

So before we get into this, i think it's important to mention that, at least to me, one of the most frustrating things about Spn is that: It loves to beg the question, but it rarely ever answers it.

What I mean by that is the show will introduce these concepts and ideas. It will say, 'hey you ever notice X?' and I go, 'woah yeah I did notice X! What about it?' and they go, 'uhhhh idk. nothing. why are you asking? shut up.'

So for example, in Hammer of the Gods, Kali has this super great string of lines where she talks about the constant centering of western ideals. She begs the question (to the narrative), Why is the christian god the most important, most powerful god? Why is He the one who gets to be The Great Creator, while every other God is watered down to a Monster of the Week? Is that ever answered? Is it ever unpacked? To my memory, no. The show just continues on as is. They acknowledge the opposition to their argument, but do nothing to refute it.

And they do this all. the. time. with characterization.

Dean's relationship with alcohol

So Dean is canonically an alcoholic. It's shown all the time, far past the 'Red-blooded All American Man loves drinking beer' type of beat. Like we're shown time and time again that Dean struggles with substance abuse, specifically with alcohol, but what is the show trying to say ABOUT it? It seems bad, in the broadest strokes. There's plenty of scenes showing Dean drinking, breaking things, driving, yelling at people, being violent. But, to what end? Once again, to my memory, Dean never gets to heal from this problem, or grow past it. You get the occasional throwaway line, like Sam chastising Dean for drinking on a case at like 10 am (you'll have to forgive me for not remembering what specific episode).

So, in my fic, I wanted there to be consequences for this. Because consequences are the soil through which characters bloom and grow. I wanted Dean to be able to see and feel and understand that yeah, this is bad. this is bad for me and it's bad for everyone around me.

By fucking up on a hunt and then fucking up the post-hunt, that's a direct consequence for him. That's a motivation for him to realize that something needs to change and that he needs to do something. (not saying that canon Dean was unaware of these revelations, but more so that the narrative didn't care to focus on them) I wanted to give him space and opportunity to do that.

2. Dean's relationship with Jack

I think one of the things the show does well is depicting the complexities of family dynamics. It's the complex father show! It's the fucked up brothers show! It's the show that went on so fucking long the brothers became fathers themselves! This is the show about viscous cycles!!!

and im going to be honest, the whole dynamic with Jack is weird. it really is the 'the most noble death in spn is to die for the winchesters' motif taken, imo, to it's most extreme. Hey guys, let's do a filicide (part 2 tbh rip emma). Jack as a character just like, to me it's just evidence of how committed this show is to NOT changing or evolving. Early seasons begs the question, 'when is a monster not a monster? When it used to be human? When its your brother? your son? When is a monster deserving of death? when it's done terrible things? or because it simply has the capacity to?' That's something Sam and Dean have to grapple with! And tbh I don't like the conclusions that the show comes to, which is 'if you are different, you are a monster.' (evidenced by how none of the special children were redeemed or just outright killed. and then Sam went on to just. stop having his powers and just got over drinking blood like okay.)

And then 8-10 years later we get Jack and oh okay we're doing this again. Alright.

So I wanted to ease back a lot of the uhhhh crueler stuff between Dean and Jack. And give them some space to heal and be on better terms with each other. A lot of their bonding happened 'off screen' in Cell service, which I tried to imply with the college plot line, the references to conversations they've had, and how Dean starts using they/them pronouns for Jack, but never really addresses how/when/why that convo happened.

But something that I DO like is the Jack/tfw parallels throughout the show! How does Jack remind Dean of Cas? of Sam? of himself? And I wanted to keep that martyrdom complex that all of tfw has in here. But that's when Dean realizes he fucked up! Kids shouldn't be almost dying for their parents!

And we see that when Sam steps in between Jack and Dean. That's Dean's moment to realize I am doing to Jack what my father did to me and I do not want that. I wanted it to be a bodily safety thing. I wanted Dean to see Jack beat up. Because how often has Dean used his own body as a shield? He knows what it feels like. I wanted him to have this moment of horror of oh. We taught you self-sacrifice. I taught you how to be a tool.

3. Dean's anger

So we have ^^^all that. And we have this moment where Dean is drunk, and he fucks up (or in his eyes fucks up) and Jack has to save him. And he's mad. But why is he mad? What is he angry at? WHO is he angry at?

Rage is very common on the show. In a lot of the high drama moments, we see a lot of anger. Dean breaking everything in a motel room, the violence, the throwing things. And in the show, I think anger is used as a catharsis in a lot of instances. SPN, to me, is an escapist fantasy about being put into situations where the only possible option is violence. The most correct and justified reaction to this impossibly unfair situation is to be violent and angry. And i think part of this is that men are taught to be violent and angry, but also shamed for their violence and anger (it's a whole double-standard thing, but i digress)

I subscribe to the idea that anger is a secondary emotion. Essentially, anger is a response (a call to action, even) to another emotion.

In a lot of the show, the emotion under anger is unfairness. So so so much of spn is this idea of 'it's a shitty situation but you have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps, grit your teeth, and get through it. because that's your job.' and that's fucking unfair!! That's something to get angry over!! And they do.

(Another common emotion preceding anger in the show is grief. And the grief is here. Oh, how it's here. Why was Dean drinking in the first place? Because Castiel is dead. but that's more of a theme for the fic as a whole and not this particular scene so im going to leave it here)

But to me, a very common precedent to anger is fear. You're scared, so you get angry. Anger protects.

I draw on personal experiences for a lot of my writing. Nothing is ever a 1:1 situation of my experience, but there's ghosts of myself in everything I write. This voicemail was one I drew on from an interaction I had with my own father.

One time as a teenager, on a really really hot day, I forgot my water bottle when I went to band practice and I passed out. Oops! I woke up, got sat down in the shade, a water bottle was found for me to drink. I was fine. However, the teachers didn't want me to drive myself home. Which sucked because I lived pretty far out of town. I call my dad. No answer. I call again. Nothing. I leave a voicemail.

I manage to get home (thanks to my stepmom who then left my dad a voicemail saying she grabbed me). But when my dad gets home, he's pissed. He had forgotten his phone in his car when he went into work that day. When he got in the car to drive home, he listened to my voicemail explaining what happened and asking for him to come pick me up (and then my stepmoms). So i'm sitting in our kitchen, and he's just chewing me out for being careless. and I remember thinking, why are you mad? It's not like I intended to get heat exhaustion. And then the more I listened to him, the more I realized. He wasn't actually mad at me. He was worried about me and upset with himself. He felt awful that he hadn't had his phone and couldn't help me when I needed him.

His kid was in trouble, he had been careless, now the kid's hurt. Maybe, had the kid been smarter, and let the monster kill him remembered to pack a water bottle, neither of us would be in this mess.

He was scared about what happened, and that fear came from feeling a lack of control, which then manifested into anger. Anger at himself for being useless, and anger at me for putting myself in that situation. What do you do when you're scared for someone? You get angry. Anger protects.

It's a sad song i think many fathers sing. I found it fitting for Dean.

4. All together now

So Dean's struggling with alcohol, even more so after Cas dying. He's struggling with Jack, and what to do about Jack, and how to be there for them when Dean's the reason their dad is dead. And then we get to this hunt where Dean is so so far from performing at his best and it's a tough fight and he's blaming himself for everything going wrong and then he's this fucking close to being the reason Jack dies, too. And oh, how it all that fear and self-loathing and grief come bursting out of him through anger.

and he feels so out of control! Cas is gone, Jack's hurt, Sam's hurt, and Dean is useless!! So he gets mad! but it's not out of unfairness. It's not out of an impossible situation. It's because Dean was drunk (and takes everyone's lives and well-being personally).

But that begs the question: is it really his fault?

Isn't that what genre he's in? Isn't he in the complex father show? the show about being angry? The show about family being hell?

That's not what he wants, though. That's not who he wants to be. He wants to be good. He wants to be good for his family. For Cas. For the people around him. Hell, maybe even for himself.

So maybe it's not his fault, but if he really wants to change, it is his responsibility to fix.

so maybe, just maybe, given some time, some space, and a narrative that cares,

maybe he can be what who he wants to be. Maybe he can have what he wants.

[ohraicodoll]

Thank you so much for Red. It’s crazy how much I relate to her. We don’t live in a post apocalyptic world but we all live in our own worlds and sometimes it can feel like us vs them which Red helps me to navigate. She has helped me to feel less ashamed about the way my brain has turned out.

She’s so cathartic and has shown me that even when someone is as rough and ready, or completely rejecting of anything good that comes their way because they ‘don’t deserve it’ or that they will wreck it that some people could them her regardless. If that makes sense.

I especially love the new Tommy x Red friend post that just made me feel so fucking validated again! The way that Red has unusual ways of showing her love/gratitude and the people in her life just try to understand it until they do with no questioning!? To be loved in a way that is so accommodating and significant blows my mind. I know you’re writing fiction but sometimes discovering that this very specific thing is addressed and taken care of by another human being in the world is insane and has given me a bit of hope for my future.

It’s so soothing and Cathartic to read your work . I spent some of my childhood in survival mode and it never truly leaves you. You’ve written it so realistically I am in amazement with every piece of the puzzle you post.

I wish I had an ounce of your talent so that I could explain my love and gratitude for you in a way that was comprehensible. I’m sorry, I just had to say something now though, I’ve been having a weird couple of days and your writing is one of my only forms of escapism.

I am so interested in what inspired you to create such a specifically complex female character like her. I consume a lot of media, have read and literally studied the new era of woman (still hard to give them a specific name) and no character has ever come close to Red. Your talent blows my mind.

Thank you Sam.

Oh goodness, did you make me cry ❤❤

I'm so glad you feel seen and feel a bit of representation and catharsis with her. That's just all I can hope is that you all love the characters I create and the stories as much as I do. You've all kept me motivated and inspired to write her (especially as fast as I have haha).

The idea about Red came because I kinda got tired of only finding pure smut or timid characters in the TLOU fic tag. I love both but Tess was not timid and was more the dominant in the relationship. And I fully get that Joel radiates "I'll take care of you" dom energy but at this point in the apocalypse I doubt there would be many people left that didn't have some aggression in them or that need taking care of. I love character analysis too much to do the same type of character.

I've always been drawn to rage characters. I wrote a whole book series when I was a teen centered around one. And I think I wanted to go back to that since my character in my Sandman series is the opposite. Dahlia is an exploration of trauma responses, especially around acts of anger because that's what I experience. But I started writing with action and violence and someone who is angry all the time and motivated by rage and I wanted to go back to it because writing a character that lacks the moral responses to killing is fascinating. So often we get characters that regret or are remorseful around killing and I don't think that's Joel.

So it was a combo of just writing someone who doesn't regret her violence, doesn't regret killing, and has been alone in the wild for a long time focused only on surviving that they never thought they'd get more. Someone who is accepted for their violence and rage. And that's Red. She is a bunch of fractured pieces held together with string with no coping skills and Joel and Ellie love her either way.

There's the her before the Outbreak, the her that was broken by her sister (who she sees in Ellie), there's the her that was with her group, the her after being alone for years and years, and then the her with Joel and Ellie. Joel never shies away from her and may actually be drawn to her more because of it since there's a piece of that in him. This story is about being seen and accepting your ugliness.

I think being able to jump all over her timeline and continuously build her has been so wonderful and fun. Requests and prompts have been great in building her (though I do change some to make sure they fit the world and who she is). I fully acknowledge she's not a reader but an OC but I cannot write a character who is a blank slate because your past and history dictate your personality and actions (and tbh, most Readers are actually OC's without names or descriptions. I'm old, the x Reader/You thing is new but also just a relabeling of OC's)

I don't know how other writers write, but these characters fully inhabit me when I focus on them. It's why it's hard to switch between stories and characters at time because I can only see through their eyes. I feel their natural body movements, their conversations flow in my head and usually I have to race to write them down somewhere for later. Red is very much a part of me and it's been a joy to explore her and bring her to you all.

So much love and thankfulness to you all ❤❤

[b3-with-you]

dream smp and the role of perspective

i think the dsmp is such a perfect example of a gray world. there is no good or bad—there are only sides. whether it be tommy’s side, dream’s side, quackity’s side, they all have different sides, different perspectives. and i don’t think you can properly categorize people as good or bad. in some ways, everyone has a little bit of everything in them. dream wasn’t always bad and tommy wasn’t always good, if you can even classify him as “good,” as a hero. who are we to say that tommy is good or that dream is bad? yes, tommy’s trying to save lives, but in a way, if dream was telling the truth, he’s also doing the exact same thing. in dream’s own twisted way, he is saving lives, he’s maintaining “balance.”

it’s a lot like the maze runner. we have WICKED who’s abusing and kidnapping children just so they can find a cure for the flare. it’s wrong and cruel and some may even say evil, but their goal is in the right place. that’s dream. he wants peace, he wants harmony, but his methods—his actions—to achieve that goal is way out of proportion. he didn’t have to exile tommy. he didn’t have to abuse him, kill him, ruin his life. but he did.

dream is a man driven by anger and loneliness and...nostalgia in a way. he misses his friends, he misses the way things were before. and he’s angry. he’s angry that all of it changed over night because of some boy. some child who thinks he’s a hero. revenge got in the way. he wanted to make tommy feel the way he felt—the chaos, the loneliness, the world crumbling around him. he just went too far.

tommy, however, is like thomas (haha tommy and tommy get it). he’s like the kids in the maze. he wanted freedom, that’s his ulterior motive. he blew things up because he wanted to, he made a nation because he wanted to, his whole thing has always been about independence. independence for l’manburg, independence from dream—that’s his thing. he’s a rebeller. he breaks rules. so even if he does care about the well being of others, he doesn’t care about harmony. he doesn’t see how nations and governments split people apart, he thinks it brings people together. but all of that is based off of his perspective. tommy has always been right at the center of a nation—he’s the main character. even if he himself wasn’t the one who created the nation, he’s always been included and the people he cares about is always right there next to him. wilbur and tommy, tubbo and tommy—they’ve always been the leaders. the faces of l’manburg.

and maybe that’s why they clash so much. we have tommy who is built off of chaos and rebellion, yet he still has these people who love and care about him, people who would do anything for him. then we have dream. dream who is lawful and organized, yet for some reason, he still lost his way in the end. he lost his humanity, his friends, his family.

it all depends on perspective. to dream, this annoying little child just popped up one day out of no where and completely changed the course of his server. to tommy, this big bad green man was taking away his freedom for no reason, tormenting him without any motive.

tommy and dream were each other’s downfall. two complete opposites who lost everything because of each other. they each made each other the way they are. and each of them are the villain of each other’s story.

[pettycrimesgreeneyes]

As a woman what do you think are qualities a man should look for in a woman?

Well this depends completely on what type of man you are.

If I were to wake up tomorrow as a man knowing what I know about woman and relationships in general. Then I would want in a woman exactly what I want in a man.

1. Humble and down to earth. Someone who doesn’t look up or down on someone based off their degree or bank account. Gives the same respect to janitor as they would a CEO. Money and luxury isn’t everything

2. Someone educated and this isn’t just about a college diploma. You need someone with emotional intelligence and also someone who has a love for learning about the world around them and can be independent in any situation

3. Someone with motivation and hustle. I’ve seen women get degrees just to say they have one. Or have one just in case they’re husband struggles financially. I think everyone should find what they’re passionate about.

4. Family orientated women who loves motherhood. I wouldn’t marry a boss babe. I wouldn’t marry a boss bro too lmao. We are in a generation where women are hyper independent but regardless mothers will always play a huge role in their child life. They need to be at the center of it. Psychologically both parents are needed but there is no denying that both sons and daughters need they’re mother more than anything, they are lost in life without consistent motherly presence.

5. Someone with a similar upbringing as me but not only that . You need someone who understands there upbringing and lets it shape there future in a good way. I know plenty of people who did not learn from their past but use it as their whole personality.

6. Someone funny. Kind of crazy/goofy personality. Non judgmental open minded. Isn’t a 100% “type A.” Very light hearted and forgiving. I had this one friend and she is the stiffest most uptight boring bitch you ever met ! I always thought she looked so good on paper meaning she was educated, cute, independent but no one wants to put up with that. She is the grinch who stole Christmas, everything agitates her, she judges everything and her personality was dry as fuck. All she talked about was her career and looks. For someone that boring all she could talk about was herself surprisingly. Basically human robot with an attitude��she end up marrying a doctor and honestly they’re match made in heaven 😂

7. Someone who prioritizes deen but keeping number 6 in mind you need someone who has a good relationship with religion and truly understands Gods love and mercy. I don’t care how religious you are… if you only see religion as a strict set of rules and strictly view God as a punisher you don’t have a good relationship with your lord, even if you’re devout. Religion should make you a more softer, more gentle, understanding human being.

8. Someone who will prioritize you and defend you at any given moment, your happiness is her happiness and vise versa

[christianissue]

Read this excellent article written in 2014. They published it in The Huffington Post. Thats amazing in itself.

Christianity and Liberalism Cannot Exist Together

Added by Rick Hope on July 25, 2014. Saved under Blog, Christian Doctrine, Opinion, Religion, Rick Hope Tags: christianity

Can such a thing as a “liberal Christian” actually exist? Is it possible for Christianity and liberalism to co-exist?

Questions like this, when asked, may sound like they are meant in jest. But actually, they are not meant to be funny at all. In reality, the question reflects a quiet serious inquiry. And furthermore, the answer has some serious implications for the millions around the world who call themselves Christians. Another way of asking the question is this: Is it a reality that one can be both a Christian and a liberal at the same time?

To answer this, one must first consider some basic theological tenets: Jesus came to this planet centuries ago with only one thing in mind. He wanted to provide an escape for humankind from being eternally condemned. God knew that the use of animal sacrifices, that at the time were being offered for the atonement for sin, was ultimately never going to really work in the end. People were simply habitual sinners and had limited resources or patience for the endless sacrifices. Something else had to be done.

So, Jesus came and died on the cross, and in doing so, created a permanent method through which any human being could be delivered from eternal condemnation. This also made the road to salvation more direct, although not necessarily easier: One could simply be saved through faith in Christ alone. Without the cross, Christianity is without foundation and meaningless.

This is why truly dedicated Christians are known for quoting from the Word of God, the Bible, and trying to lead others to faith in Christ. Their salvation from hell is the primary motivation in everything they do. Their desire to see others saved from the same eternal condemnation is priority to them above anything else in their lives.

A liberal Christian, however, is an entirely different thing. They choose to define themselves by their beliefs and involvement in liberal movements above anything else. These liberal movements could be anything from abortion, to gay rights, to feminism, to racial advocacy, to affirmative action. Maybe they choose to become advocates for large entitlements and exemptions from the government. Liberal Christianity can manifest itself in so many different ways. However, one common aspect shared by all of these groups is that they are tied together by what they simply call the “love of Jesus.” This is a very nebulous term that is, in actuality, devoid of meaning.

Liberal Christians never talk about salvation. None of them talk at length about what Jesus did on the cross. Rather, they focus on something else. They seem to promote a type of lifestyle that is totally dependent on self. It is all about bettering one’s self, saving one’s self, relying on one’s own strength and action.

They will tell people that Jesus taught about accepting others, and for that reason, homosexuals must feel accepted and be allowed to celebrate their choice in lifestyle regardless of what the scripture says. They want to create a sort of utopia where everyone is fed and taken care of and nurtured. In the mind of a liberal, the best way to accomplish that dream is through the government.

The liberal Christians who embrace this concept simply miss the whole aim of Christianity. For them there is no accountability. There is no challenge for their ethos to line up with what the Bible outlines for mankind. If one wants to do it and likes the way it feels, then go ahead. There is a total embrace of everything in today’s society. Liberal Christianity is not centered on Christ at all, but, instead, it is centered on the world.

What ends up being offered is a buffet style Christianity, allowing people to take the portions of the Bible that make them feel good while ignoring everything else. When challenged on what they choose to believe, they tell the accuser that he is judgmental and misquote a verse in the Bible where Jesus told us to “judge not.”

In reality, the whole objective of that verse is not to inform the reader that it is wrong to judge, but, rather, to be painfully aware of the measuring stick that is being used. It is, after all, very common for individuals to hold others to standards that are rather impossible.

For sure, there are many who profess Christianity who require perfection from those around themselves and ignore their own problems. There are others who will spend the majority of their time quibbling over the inconsistencies of others instead of following the commands of God in obedience.

In short, all of the warnings we find in the Bible do not mean that the act of judgment is always a negative action. The reality is that we will all be judged in the end by God’s standards as put forth in His Word.

The life of a Christian liberal is not centered on Christ nor is it based on the Bible. This is proven by their defending the right to murder an unborn child or for the homosexual lifestyle to be glorified. For this reason, a new way is needed to attract supporters.

The easiest avenue to take is often a very poorly disguised New Age form of spirituality. It gives all the right connotations of being loving and having a spiritual type theme. They begin to use left-wing tactics to motivate their congregation and begin doing things that inflate a sense of self-worth and importance instead of the searching for and finding faith.

This New Age, feel-good type of faith, is not really faith at all. Rather, it takes the basic Christian structure of community and church and makes it into something more attractive to those who are secularists. All through the history of the progressive movement are individuals who use their position inside their faith to garner support of causes that are extra-Biblical.

It is not enough for anyone to profess to be a Christian or even a Muslim. To claim a faith is to actually hold to the core beliefs of that faith. Otherwise, God is being created in their image. He becomes a god who holds to what they want to be true.

In short, the answer to the original question is “no.” Christianity and liberalism cannot coexist. Once someone turns from faith in the scripture and from the laws of God, they have designed their own religion. This is America, and people are free to do that if they choose. But please do not call it Christianity. Christianity is the coming to a relationship with God through a faith in Jesus Christ in response to the sacrifice He endured. To call it anything else is quicksand.

Opinion by Rick Hope

[fluxofthemouth]

@orestei (👋) is writing a Paul Atreides who is solidly an Aquarius. So I wanted to do it too, and I looked up all the little horoscope guys again, and just based on personality I think Piter would be a Leo. There are other signs that describe things that he does very well (Taurus loves the finer things in life, Libra has an uncanny eye for balance and the workings of things, etc.) but I keep coming back to Leo because that's the one that's absolutely convinced that they should be the center of attention right now and at all times. And I think that's a trait that really sets Piter apart from other, similar characters who may, for example, love the finer things in life, or be hard-working, or be manipulative and clever. bc he Does Not Stop Talking, and that's why I made my url 'fluxofthemouth' and never changed it. More thoughts below!

I also like that Leo is symbolized by a lion, which is also the symbol of the noble house that has controlled the Empire for thousands of years. Saying that Piter is a Leo feels like saying for him what he would not dare say out loud: that he knows down to his bones that it was not inherently his birthright to be less than anybody; yes, even that person. Especially that person, even. I imagine him going through horrible twisted Mentat schooling to learn to be 'perfectly objective' beyond the bias of human emotions; and being a smart little guy of course. So when the teachers are trying to explain why it's still perfectly objective and purely logical to see the Emperor as superior to other people he's like Oh! Obviously that's a lie and there's nothing in nature or the uncaring universe that makes the Emperor better, just like there's nothing in nature or the uncaring universe that makes murder evil. The teacher has a motive to say that, and I'm supposed to pretend to believe it to pass the test and get a job and so on. But really, it's all constructed by humans! And then he never told anyone and cultivated rage about it for the rest of his miserable life. And it's so poetic to me if his rage at playing a servant's role is so large and impossible to hide that it's literally in the stars, if anyone cared to look. Or would be from the perspective of Old Earth anyways.

I think Vladimir Harkonnen both 'loved' and hated Piter for having a strong independent streak. I think when Vladimir felt surrounded by yes-men and wanted to have literally one conversation with another human person that felt real even if the guy was mocking him the whole time, Piter was a godsend. And when Vladimir felt more comfortable in his power, and less wearied by the isolation of it all, having someone like Piter around who doesn't seem to believe in the divine right of kings (or whatever they're calling it these days) felt dangerous, and even very threatening to ideology that his rule and his wealth depended on. And that's what I feel is captured well by deciding Piter is a Leo; that absolute, independently-cultivated confidence in having a voice in this room and deserving to speak in this room even when literally nobody else expects, wants, or thinks that.

[im4uworld]

How would life change if you knew when and how you would die?

How would that affect you and humanity if you knew the exact date and cause of your death? In this article from the British Broadcasting Corporation's (BBC) Future series, many professionals shared research and points of view.

Everyone knows they will die someday. And many psychologists maintain that this truth motivates everything we do in life. Some choices could be what you eat, how much you exercise, when to have children, and if you should join a faith-based institution.

We can't know when and how each of us will die. However, reflecting on it helps us better understand what motivates individuals and societies and how we might do things differently.

Work done in the 1980s by psychologists examining how humans deal with death coined the term "terror management theory." As the theory goes, people ward off the paralyzing existential terror of death (death anxiety) by embracing culturally constructed beliefs and striving to increase their sense of self-worth.

The researchers demonstrated that flashing the word 'death' on a computer screen or holding a conversation near a funeral home is enough to trigger changes in our behavior. We become more defensive of our beliefs and hostile to whatever threatens them. We are more likely to favorably treat people with similar looks, political outlooks, geographic origins, and religious beliefs. We treat those not sharing similar views with contempt and even violence. We claim to love profoundly our partners who are similar to us more and even vote into power leaders who incite the fear we feel within.

As individuals, we may conclude that life is futile and indulge in behaviors that are dangerous to our health, financial stability, families, and environment. Society would likely be more racist, violent, warlike, self-centered, greedy, and environmentally destructive than it is now.

So, does death anxiety influence those destructive behaviors within us today? Perhaps, but it is essential to understand that we can be different, and there are examples worldwide. Buddhist monks in South Korea do not have death anxiety. Instead, researchers have termed it "death reflection." Death anxiety is a fear and an abstract one. In death reflection, an individual has an underlying belief and acceptance that death is a part of life and an understanding of our connectedness to the greater whole. In death reflection, a person reflects on how they might die and the impact it will have on their loved ones. Many people working with death reflection show a more generous side to their personalities.

Still, much is dependent upon the individual's personality. Palliative care patients typically have two phases of thinking when faced with their mortality. The first phase is understanding whether it is imminent or whether they can fight it. The second thought phase is what they will do with their remaining time. Many different behaviors can happen, but they typically fall into two categories. One, how will they fight their illness? And then, how can they spend the remaining time with loved ones and be happy?

The article provides some insights into our own lives and the communities where we live. Death anxiety is a fear, and according to researchers, this fear may drive many aberrant behaviors both for us as an individual and collectively for our community. Could it be that the fear that drives intolerance and anger is rooted in death anxiety? Maybe, and it might be worth exploring in your community by looking at some of the principles of death reflection. Different elements of our community deal with death (past, present, and future), for example, medical professionals, hospitals, medical researchers, funeral homes, faith-based organizations and leaders, historians, palliative care organizations, grief counselors, and then all the individuals in the community who have experienced the death of a loved one. Community conversations around the different perspectives and beliefs can build a calmer and more knowledgeable community and, perhaps, a wave of altruism that follows.

We cannot stop death, but we can be free of fear.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it.  you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

                                    You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.  

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though.  After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all?  Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared).  He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did.  Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered.  The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed.  You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him.  You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him.  Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around.  You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention.  If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers.  With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk.  Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter.  “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded.  By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous.  Idiotic.  A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you.  “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged.  “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing?  “Thank you.  I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.  

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense.  But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?”  His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious.  “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him.  He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression.  His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.  

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore.  “I’m here, aren’t I?  Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that?  I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me.  It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm.  “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium.  Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.  

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.  

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course.  And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.  “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar.  “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time.  You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there.  Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.  

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.  

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen.  And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds.  You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit.  All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.  

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything.  The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.  

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex.  As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd.  Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway.  It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.  

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted.  “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were.  But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck.  “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear.  “Can you do that for me?  Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped.  “I can take it!  Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head.  “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on?  Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers.  You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you.  Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.  

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly.  You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point.  "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly.  He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.  

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air.  He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive.  The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed.  He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss.  Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him.  Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing.  His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately.  "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.”  It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.  But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear.  You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly.  "Oh, you like that idea, hm?  You want to be full of my come?  Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast.  You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated.  As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade.  Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks.  No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair.  It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks.  If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.  

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry.  I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed.  He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye.  “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.  

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss.  And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again.  He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss.  Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss?  But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class?  Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it?  And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios.  You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him.  And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now.  The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class.  As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options.  There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself.  Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable.  Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned.  "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk.  Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.  He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was.  “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed.  “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice.  You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly.  “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed.  “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly.  "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours.  And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel.  “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed.  "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again.  "A man can only take so much.  I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked.  "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist.  Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod.  It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag.  “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened.  Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded.  “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.”  He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips.  “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs.  “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair.  He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit.  Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up.  He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way.  I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed.  "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear.  "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.  

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me.  Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

[noteguk]

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple 

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from. 

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea. 

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids. 

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings. 

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons. 

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon. 

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place. 

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body. 

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.” 

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. 

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect. 

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot. 

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really. 

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?” 

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.” 

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.” 

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.” 

“And what is?” You asked. 

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.” 

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.” 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.” 

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container. 

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.” 

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.” 

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.” 

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?” 

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.” 

He frowned. “Is that your answer?” 

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?” 

“Because I like giving back to the community.” 

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.” 

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.” 

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?” 

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.” 

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.” 

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?” 

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.” 

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?” 

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.” 

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.” 

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment. 

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily. 

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious. 

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“ 

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.” 

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.” 

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully. 

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.” 

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive. 

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.” 

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave? 

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all. 

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.” 

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?” 

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin. 

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.” 

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.” 

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?” 

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly. 

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.” 

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?” 

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?” 

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.” 

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.” 

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.” 

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.” 

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like. 

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening. 

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—” 

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable. 

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.” 

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.” 

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded. 

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought. 

“Turn around for me,” he asked. 

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.” 

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked. 

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat. 

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.” 

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” 

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.” 

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”  

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.” 

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.” 

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface. 

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.” 

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.” 

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.” 

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank. 

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed. 

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?” 

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.” 

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.” 

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you. 

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state.  “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.” 

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his. 

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that. 

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?” 

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways. 

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.” 

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him. 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.” 

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...” 

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.” 

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.” 

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.” 

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.” 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm. 

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat. 

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home. 

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…” 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.” 

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?” 

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.” 

~ 

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises. 

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum. 

You, of course, promptly accepted it. 

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked. 

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.” 

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place. 

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”  

“And, by the way?” 

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time. 

~ 

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST: 

@taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati--c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[chroma-ki]

Deku vs. the Society: an Analysis

Based on recent manga chapters, I felt the need to write this – because it is so important to the series as a whole, and most importantly, Deku’s character development.

From the very beginning of the series, the audience has been exposed to hero society from Izuku’s POV. That is extremely important, because it creates the cognitive dissonance that is vital to understanding the effects that hero society has had on the population as a whole.

In the beginning, Izuku was very much a ‘civilian’. He saw the heroes the way that most people see them: celebrities, larger than life, etc.

In many ways, Izuku saw them as gods as opposed to actual people. He himself didn’t truly understand the realities of what it means to be a hero until he met All Might – only to discover that All Might was a real human being who could fall and was not faultless.

In the most recent chapters, as an audience member, you truly have to go back to the very beginning and put yourself in the mindset of quirkless Izuku to really understand where the citizens are coming from.

As a civilian, you are only seeing a snapshot of these heroes – their wins, their successes, the flawless image they wish to portray. You are not seeing the realities of the situation at hand; how these heroes suffer, how they fall, how they get hurt.

It is a very ‘media-centered’ mindset, where a lot of the portrayal of these heroes comes down to tabloids, PR scandals, and the like where you’re not actually getting to see these people for who they truly are and what they are putting on the line for your safety.

It is an issue of ‘transparency’ on the hero’s part, and an issue of ‘lack of responsibility’ on the citizen’s part. It’s a group effort, and a group fault – which is how it has been portrayed from the very beginning.

All Might represented not only a ‘Symbol of Peace’ - as he was trying to convey – but also a symbol of complacency, where the citizens felt as if they had no personal stakes in the villainy that was going on in society because heroes like All Might would ‘take care of it for them’. It’s a situation of “Oh, that couldn’t possibly happen to me” mentality.

The basis of ‘what it means to be a hero’ has been lost by a society that only sees these people as celebrities who are infallible creatures – but that’s just not true. These people are human beings, basically soldiers, who are putting their lives on the line to protect others. This does not make them larger-than-life, and it does not mean that they are invincible. They are human. They can get hurt. They can fall.

They deserve the time to rest, recuperate, and heal – as any other human would.

It is vitally important to see this situation from Izuku’s point of view - because it is not only important to him as a person to retain this idealism for heroes in the way that he has all this time, but it is also important to see that he is still learning and is very much still a person that is just trying to figure things out as he goes while doing his best to ensure that everyone makes it out alive in the end.

This series really takes the idea of ‘what does it mean to be a hero’ and delves into it hardcore. It is the vital question that Izuku has asked everyone he meets since the beginning of the series – and that question is absolutely the sole purpose of this story.

Everyone has their own motivations for becoming a ‘hero’ – all which vary across the board – but the ultimate truth is that a hero is a culmination of those things and not any individual’s ideal of what they should be.

They are not celebrities. They are not someone who always saves people with a smile. They are not someone who always wins. They are not someone who is strong enough that they don’t worry the loved ones around them, and they are not someone who is able to save everyone.

In reality, the series is not about Izuku as a person, it’s about society as a whole. Protecting others is a group effort.

It should not ever be placed on the shoulders of one person.

The series pushes the concept of reality into an idealistic world, and I love that about this story.

This is real. It feels real.

This story is not about taking a dream and running with it – it is about starting with a dream, introducing reality and learning how to roll with the punches; realizing that maybe the reality of things is something that you can’t handle.

Midoriya Izuku is an amazing MC because he feels utterly human. He has flaws, those flaws are not glossed over and even he sees himself as a very flawed human being. He is self-aware in a way that makes him smart and empathetic to others; almost to a fault.

In many ways, Izuku is a sponge for all the ideals and values that others around him have placed into the concept of ‘what a hero is’. That makes him the perfect person to compile that information and make it his own; become the ultimate hero.

He will not be the ‘greatest hero’ because he obtained All Might’s power. That’s not the point of the series. He will become the ‘greatest hero’ because he is an empathetic human being who takes into account all parts of the whole.

Even quirkless, Izuku had all the makings of a hero, and that’s the point. Bakugo realized that, All Might realized that, and now the people are starting to realize that.

Izuku isn’t just important because he has the ability to defeat the greatest villain of all time. He’s important because he is the pure image of what a hero truly is – a flawed human being who is just trying to do his best to protect the world that he loves, regardless of the consequences to himself.

He didn’t need a power to do that. He felt that way from the start.

[linkspooky]

TOJI AND MAKI

The parallels between the two outcasts of the zenin clan have already been pointed out plenty of times in canon, for example they're both incredibly buff. However, I thought I would take a deeer look at both characters, as they share both a role as the abused child that destroys the system that created them, and the same fatal flaw.

1. The Child Who is Not Embraced by the Village Will Burn it Down to Feel its Warmth

"The Ones who Walk Away from Omelas" is a 1973 work of short philosophical fiction, about a summer festival in the utopian ity of OMelas, whose prosperity depends on the perpetual misery of a single child. The idea is written around the idea of the scapegoat, a reoccurring trope in stories where someone innocent is blamed, or outcast for the mistakes of other characters.

All of this to say that both Maki and Toji represent the archetype of the scapegoats of their generation. Just like the child of Omelas, all of the problems in the Zenin household are blamed on one child.

This is something Ogi does to Maki directly, and also Naoya recognizes that the other members of the clan did to Toji. They were unable to face their own inferiority, so they blamed it on a scapegoat. Ogi blames his failure to become the head of the clan on his children. The entire clan is unable to recognize Toji's strength, because it would make them question their traditionally held notions of strength, Toji requires the use of weapons and can fight without cursed techniques, which means the cursed techniques they were born with don't make them inherently better with other people.

This is also related to Gojo's criticisms of Jujutsu Society at large, of which the Zenin Household is a very toxic microcosm of. Gojo's critique is that the previous generation will sacrifice the lives of the younger generation, to maintain their power, and in the name of pointless tradition. In the Zenin family "tradition" is the idea that inherited curse technique determines a person's worth.

Their entire system is built around one, keeping cursed techniques in the clan, and two, passing down inherited curse techniques from father to child. Which would go farther to explain the treatment of women by the clan, but we're not getting into that this time. Basically, the "peace" and the "superiority" of the household are built on the idea of marking and scapegoating an outsider, that is anyone who doesn't fit in with the clan's traditions. "If you are not of the Zenin Clan you are not a sorcerer, and if you are not a sorcerer then you are not even Human". That quote alone should explain how Maki and Toji were both treated as subhuman 'monkeys' by everyone around them.

However, the story shows us by both Toji and Maki snapping how terrible these abusive power structures are. One person cannot handle all of that alone, so they snap. Of course they snap. It's not a sign of who Toji and Maki are as people, but rather how no one deserves to be treated that way. A major reocurring theme in Jujutsu Kaisen is no one person alone, can take responsibility for everything, not even Gojo who is the strongest can save everyone he wants to save or be responsible for all of society he needs allies too. Toji, and Maki without allies, they snap and lash out against the same abusive power structure that created them. They are so thoroughly othered by everyone around them, that they embrace their own inhumanity, Maki becomes a weapon bent on killing her family even murdering her own mother, and Toji outright calls himself a monkey.

This is also why Toji is referred to as the "destroyer of destinies" there are two reasons for this. One, Gege is making a thematic point here. The abusive system built on othering and excluding children among other things doesn't actually provide the stability it promises. The center does not hold. The abuse of the system perpetuates and only leads to more destruction. Toji's outcasting isn't something that just hurt Toji alone, everyone felt the consequences of it because the abusive system proliferates and only causes further destruction. The second reason is a Jungian idea on which the story is based on. Toji himself is much like a curse created by the actions of his entire family. If Mahito is created from the fear humans have for each other and acts as the shadow of humanity representing their dark side, Toji metaphorically represents the combined shadow and dark side of the zenin clan. In Watch Man, Rorsarch monologues about how the accumulated filth of all of the abuses that happen in the city will one day rise up and affect everyone.

"This city is afraid of me, I have seen it's true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will form up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout save us and I'll look down and whisper no."

This is expressing the same Jungian idea, a society that ignores these problems will only cause the muck to rise up further and further until it affects everyone. The Zenin clan was a microcosm for the abuses of Jujutsu Society as a whole, they weren't the only ones affected by their abuse because abuse perpetuates. They endured it until they snapped and then acted out that abuse. The Jungian idea put forth is that this sort of reckoning was always going to happen, as long as the Zenin clan continues to create these outcasts in order to hold themselves up as superior, another Toji will happen.

2. Love is the Worst Curse of Them All

Toji and Maki also share the same flaw as people. Their abuse revolved around the idea of outcasting them from the rest of the family, othering them, continually putting them down and also most likely not even doing the job of raising them as children or providing them with the help they needed. We don't see much of it, but in the databook apparently Toji regularly had cursed spirits sicked on him to mock him, and Maki was locked in the cursed spirit room as punishment.

This taught them not only do they need to be strong on their own, but also in order to prove themselves they both thought they needed to be stronger than anyone else in the clan. Toji left Jujutsu Society as a whole, whereas Maki just left the house, both of them with the motivation of proving themselves stronger than the people who looked down on them.

This strong sense of individualism is their greatest strength, and also their weakness, as the situation is more complicated than being stronger than a bully. Maki and Toji are made to feel alone because of their abuse, however, neither Maki nor Toji suffer their abuse alone.

Mai was abused right alongside Maki, they were both outcasts due to being twins. There's no point in arguing which one of them had it worse, because Ogi was perfectly willing to kill both daughters right alongside each other. Maki does and doesn't remember that Mai is right alongside her in her abuse, it's... a bit complicated.

I mention this because Makiaated reason why is that she would have hated herself if she stayed inside that household with Maki. She put pursuit of becoming a stronger sorcerer above her relationship with her sister.

Maki later states "I can't create a place where Mai would feel like she belongs". I don't believe that was always her intention from the start that she secretly left the household for Mai's sake, and wanted to get stronger to create a place where Mai belongs, because Maki's always been really clear she was doing it for her own sake. I think rather after the loss she suffered in Shibuya, and also the fight she had with her sister in the school met, that she came to change her mind and realized she wasn't just in this alone. She changed her mind, that she wanted to be together with Mai, but she didn't change it in time and tragedy struck.

I mention this because Maki and Toji both share the same tragic flaw. Both of them have no idea how to be close even to the people they love, so they end up pushing away the ones they love the most. Maki continually shows behavior of pushing away Mai, and in Toji's case he does everything he can to try to show himself he doesn't love his son.

Maki continually pushes away her sister Mai. Mai reacts to getting pushed away in a not-so-healthy way. Toji full on deadbeats his son. He doesn't raise him or participate in his life to the point where Megumi can't remember his face or name at all. Toji did everything he could to try to give Megumi to someone else, anyone else other than him and avoided his responsibility as a father.

It doesn't come from malice on Toji and Maki's part, but rather it's a less savory aspect of their abuse. Both Toji and Maki believe themselves to be worthless, and that they can't be accepted or loved. They've internalized the way the clan has treated them. They are so isolated that this comes out in how they treated their closest loved ones, their response is to always push them away and isolate themselves further. Toji narrates this, he chose to throw his son aside because he wanted to affirm himself and prove that he was better than Jujutsu Society. Maki says to Mai that she left the house and left Mai because staying would have meant hating herself.

They are both trying desperately to prove themselves as individually strong, to the point where loving anyone else, or even requiring that love from someone is a weakness. They prove they are strong by avoiding the vulnerability of loving someone else. Toji and Maki both try to separate themselves from their heart in order to become even more physically stronger. For Toji his heart was his son Megumi who he did everything to distance himself, forgetting his name, selling him to the Zenin clan, while at the same time paradoxically believing that he was somehow protecting Megumi and arranging for things that would have been better than Toji just stepping up as a father and taking care of him.

At the same time Maki pushes Mai away when Mai does not want that, and believes that also she can return to the clan and make it a safe place for her sister by being individually stronger than everyone else.

They both approach their loved ones this way, because they were taught that one, they are unworthy of love, and they choose to try to get stronger by throwing away anything that might make them vulnerable.

TWhich is why Maki breaks so hard, and lashes out at everyone when Mai is gone, because Maki believed that keeping Mai separate from herself and protecting her was her way of showing love.

However, Mai and Megumi are like... people. They're people entirely separate from Maki and Toji and also affected by their actions. Megumi was neglected his entire lives, whereas Mai didn't get to have a relationship with her sister and felt like she was worthless and only holding her sister back. This is the central idea of Toji and Maki's abuse narrative, that abuse is complicated, and abuse proliferates and hurts people you don't even intend for it to hurt. It has consequences. Megumi suffers the consequences of the Zenin family's abuse because it turned Toji into such an unfit and emotionally immature father. Mai was being abused alongside Maki, and even ended up dying from her abuser's hand as her father Ogi beat her half to death and locked her in a room. Now, as a consequence Maki is lashing out at everything around her. That's also why the connection between Toji and Maki is drawn, to show that as long as the abusive institution still stands, it's just going to keep creating more outcasts like Toji and Maki.

[alirhi]

*deep breath*

Okay, let's break this down once and for all.

What were Loki's "crimes"?

Thor (2011)

1) Snuck a small band of Jotuns into the vaults of Asgard as a prank, knowing full well that they would be stopped before they could do any real damage. His reasoning? Thor was brash, arrogant, reckless, and violent. Loki wanted to delay his unstable, genocidal brother taking power and leading Asgard into ruin. This is all fully established in the movie. He got those Jotuns killed, I'll give you that one (or would, if any of you even fucking cared about them). But from his (and any other Asgardians') perspective, not knowing they were his own people, having been raised for 1500 years in a racist society that viewed Jotuns as lesser and unworthy of humane treatment? Hardly a loss, especially in the service of protecting his home.

2) Being handed regency of the throne until Odin recovers, due to Thor's banishment. Loki never stole it, never wanted it, was stunned to be given it. As the other Prince of Asgard and the last remaining link in the chain of succession, there was absolutely nothing wrong with this move, on the advisors' part for handing him the power, or on Loki's part for claiming it.

3) Refusing to undermine Odin's authority while he's incapacitated. His own motives here are completely inconsequential. Loki is right not to immediately contradict the King the moment the crown changes heads.

4) Trying to kill Thor and his friends, destroying a small New Mexico town. I'll give you guys this one (though again... no one seems to mention it. Huh.)

5) That whole Kill Odin/Kill Laufey switcheroo. Here is where the difference between explaining and excusing becomes very important. Loki, having just learned that he's adopted and is the son of Odin's sworn enemy, is having a bit of an identity crisis and is desperate for some indication from the only father he's ever known that he's worthy of love and respect. Having been raised on racism and casual genocide, it makes sense that his idea to win Odin's love and prove his loyalty to Asgard is to eliminate that enemy. This does not excuse Loki's actions; I've never heard/read a Loki fan attempting to excuse his actual wrongdoings. But it's not difficult to understand what motivated him.

6) Trying to destroy Jotunheim with the Bifrost. This is really more of a 5.5 lol. Kind of more of the same shit - desperate to prove himself, lots of twisted, psychotic messages in his upbringing. Again, not excusing his actions, here. There is no excuse for attempted genocide.

Funny how all these arguments that Loki is evil and always has been center around the first three points, where he wasn't actually wrong, and rarely if ever bring up the last three, where he was clearly misguided at best.

Avengers (2012) ...lordy. Here's a doozy. Let's start with this, shall we?

"Marvel confirms Loki was mind-controlled in The Avengers."

To anyone who actually watched Thor 1, this should have been obvious. Why? Because he's trying to fucking rule Earth. Loki. Never. Wanted. A. Throne.

If that's not enough, and Marvel directly confirming this isn't enough, look at the evidence: sickly blue light from the scepter in his eyes, same as Clint and Selveig when they were controlled. He's pale and sickly looking, clearly unwell. He can't stand or walk on his own and is clearly in pain. He was tortured.

Yes, sure, this is absolutely a willing accomplice meeting with his buddy. Not at all a traumatized victim still under the thumb of his abusers and being forced to do their bidding. Don't all friends and allies threaten each other with unimaginable pain? 🙄

1) "He killed 80 people in 3 days!" Thanos shoving him through the Tesseract caused a power surge that obliterated the structural integrity of SHIELD headquarters and caused the building to collapse. That's it. That's the body count y'all can't fucking shut up about and keep mindlessly quoting Natasha, who spun the events to sway Thor to their side. Loki didn't kill 80 people. A building's inability to handle Loki traveling killed 80 people.

2) *chirp... chirp...* 🦗🦗 Y'all need some help? I never hear about anything else from this movie. Shall we just move on?

Oh, wait. There's one more...

2) "He stabbed Thor!" Yep. Finally free of the Mind Stone's control, Loki looks out over the destruction he helped cause, has a little freakout because he's not evil... and then stabs Thor to get free and a little bit to save face because he does have an ego. What's more damaging to it in the end - admitting he was someone else's puppet this whole time, or playing into Thor's bias that he will always betray him because that's just what he does? Also, he stabbed Thor with the tiniest blade in the history of blades. Like, there was no way that thing was ever going to hit anything vital. Thor was in no danger there. It hurt, I'm sure, but he's had worse. Loki did it to get away, not to harm him.

Thor: The Dark World (2013)

1) Still freshly liberated from Thanos' control, Loki is snarky and dismissive as he faces Odin, because he already knows nothing will sway the stubborn old bastard. His mind's made up and Loki has far too much pride to grovel, or to even admit the shit on Earth was never his plan. Oh, no. The God of Mischief is snarky! The horror!

2) Gives the bad guy directions. Not very good ones, at that. Every time I watched this movie, this moment came across as Loki just telling the Kursed how to slip past the guards swarming to round up the other escaped prisoners. Kursed went straight to the shield generator thingy and smashed it to pieces. Not straight to Frigga. Mobius and the shitty Loki series writer can retcon this all they want, but Loki did not murder Frigga. Loki did not lead the enemy to Frigga. He wasn't trying to lead him fucking ANYWHERE.

He was extremely helpful through the rest of this movie, right up until his "death." He was still chaotic and delightfully sarcastic and holy fuck I love this movie... Anyway, Loki was pretty much firmly on the Good Guy team in TDW. But I'll address it anyway...

3) Faking his death and pretending to be a guard to trick Odin, and then pretending to be Odin to trick Thor and the rest of Asgard. ooooo so evil! He sat in a chair and smirked. Someone call the cops! He didn't even hurt Odin!

In Thor: Ragnarok Loki saved the day. Twice. In Infinity War, he died a very stupid, avoidable death trying to save the day, or at least save his brother.

What, exactly, has he done that was so wrong as to paint him as evil and deserving of continued abuse and degradation? Find me one Avenger who hasn't done more damage than Loki ever has. Just one. I'll wait.

Don't even get me started on Sylvie or the TVA. 🤮