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cenorii · 4 days

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Wesker: personality

This is my psychological analysis of the character, which includes important details of the story, an analysis of the decisions they made and the concept of the phenomenon of «Guiding Fear». Contains spoilers!

Even if you know lore 100%, you will be able to learn something new from my thoughts

I did this to practice analyzing personalities and reliably prescribe my own characters.

[These are all my personal reflections that I have been accumulating and analyzing for six months. You can see the same analysis with Chris here. In Wesker's case, I dispel the myths that he is evil-evil and crazy, it's not that trivial here... Thanks to everyone who reads this, I really appreciate it and it's nice to know that my thoughts are of interest to someone!]

The most difficult subject of all. An attempt to embrace the immensity. He is infantile and the desire to prove this quality forced me to write such a huge article.

Wesker embodies the fear of losing himself, the anxiety of being someone he is not. He knows nothing about himself from the beginning, neither his Spencer-prescribed destiny nor his real name. As he tries to resist and exercise his individuality, he is eventually confronted with the truth that his every move has been pre-planned, never answering the questions: where are his own decisions? Where is he himself? What is really his?

I chose this fear for Wesker for a reason. The fear of losing himself can cause a person to purposely distance himself from others and not allow anyone to get close to him. He strives to shield himself from everyone, and we can observe this in his desire to be alone. Outwardly, such a person may appear indifferent and cold, even indifferent, so as not to give away to others (and to himself) his true feelings and needs. Wesker believes that it is right not to show anyone that something matters to him, otherwise he will develop weaknesses. After all, what people hold dear can be manipulated. And he doesn't want anyone to have control over him. He hates being controlled, so his surroundings know the bare minimum of information about him.

Who's Spencer? One of the founders of Umbrella, to put it succinctly. A man who is obsessed with identical mansions and mysteries and immortality and creating «perfect humanity». Rich and powerful.

But let's get to Wesker's story. A lot of things happened to him in his 48 years of life.

First of all, I want to point out that at an early age he was taken from a family that Spencer believed had a unique combination of intelligence and genes. But he wasn't the only one who was treated this way as part of «project W» (the experiment to create the perfect human). There were hundreds of children who were later given the surname Wesker. Until their adulthood, they received the best education, living in a boarding school (presumably), and were selected to be the best.

The children, being a blank slate, absorbed Spencer's teaching, being brought up according to his ideals. Their lives were pre-scripted, every step of the way. Those who were unremarkable were weeded out. Competition, anxiety. The lack of a normal childhood could breed a fear of losing oneself in every Wesker, for life was controlled. Personal boundaries and choices were absent, Spencer's worldview was pounded into everyone's head. Children were also distorted with notions of right and wrong, forced to be emotionally detached from a non-ideal world. This upbringing has produced people who have no empathy for others, empty machines with no personality of their own, ready to perform perfectly in any job in which they find themselves successful. They see the world through Spencer's eyes, but not their own.

In the end the best were 13 people, where number 12 was Alex Wesker and number 13 was Albert, the one in question. Someone who really always wanted to see the world with his own eyes, wanted to transcend.

The 13 candidates, following Spencer's plan, had to mature before moving on to the final stage of project W - injecting themselves with a special prototype virus. The power that this virus can bestow is so great that an immature individual, according to Spencer, has no right to possess it. In theory, this virus should improve a person, make him perfect, but in fact it turned out to be very selective and killed 11 candidates out of 13. Only Alex and Albert survived. Alex didn't gain any strength, because at the time of the injection she was sick, and the virus cannot improve a weak organism. But her half-brother was lucky, and the virus endowed him with all possible positive properties, changing his body and turning him into an almost immortal creature, looking completely like a human. That is, outwardly, except for the color of his eyes, nothing had changed in him. At the time of the injection, they were both 38.

I don't believe in theory that he lost his «humanity» due to mutation. On the contrary, he was never «human» in the classical sense of the word. He, like the others, was raised not to show empathy for others and was indoctrinated to believe that he was superior. Wesker had not changed, but because of his newfound freedom, he was no longer constrained by the limits Spencer's upbringing had placed on him.

When Wesker was 18, he was sent to the «Umbrella Executive Training School» with his future friend William Birkin, who was 16. They were research associates. As one could guess, the stress didn't end with his childhood, it coexisted with it. Following the text from his report, Wesker continued to feel like a mere toy in the hands of Umbrella, and further in the hands of Spencer, he literally raved in every paragraph about the old man. And to get out of this state was impossible from his words.

He and Birkin were led to Lisa Trevor, a subject who had been physically and psychologically abused in this School for many years. The horrible picture that opened before them, gave Wesker confidence that he could be in her place if he did his job badly. But he had no idea that he'd always been there, that every stage of his life was Spencer's experiment, just not as ugly.

Wesker wrote in his report: «We had two choices: succeed in our research... or lie here and rot like her. Thus we had only one option. This woman tied to a pipe touched something in our minds»

These thoughts are literally a revelation of his subconscious fear that has haunted him since childhood. A manifestation of humanity.

When Wesker entered this School, he felt freedom and saw the horrors of science for the first time. Perhaps a turning point in his life, for in order not to lose that little freedom, and his life, he had to do as he was told. Had to adjust and ignore the rationalism screaming inside. Working there greatly affected Birkin and Wesker, but Wesker had to transfer elsewhere to get more information about Spencer and also because of the realization that he had reached his research limit. When Birkin started studying the G-virus, Wesker realized that it was beyond his knowledge. Although he was good at science, he didn't want to do it all the time, he wasn't looking to improve his skills and knowledge, reaching for something else, as if trying everywhere, trying to find his place.

Close to the age of 38, Wesker gets a job in a special police unit as Captain of the S.T.A.R.S. Squad and a double agent. But he was already then pursuing a personal goal and found himself a triple agent. His goal was not simply to test bioweapons on members of his squad, as the assignment stated, but to escape with the results to another organization. The only way to break free from the influence of Umbrella, which is why he gave up his best people so easily.

It's unclear why he planted supplies on Chris in a difficult moment and helped him in every way he could if the trial was supposed to go «natural». Perhaps he wanted Chris to 100% make it to the final trial, but Chris was doing fine without it. Maintained the image of the captain? Game rules? Anything is possible. I'll use the code word «WX» to note this behavior, because I'll come back to this topic a few more times. «WX» stands for Wesker's penchant for actions that do not conform to his basic behavior, including helping others that does not bring him any personal benefit or benefit. In other words, good without any reason.

At the mansion, Chris and Jill get rid of the bioweapons in their path and make their way to the lab, where they catch Wesker off guard. There are 12 endings in the game, but only the one where Wesker is stabbed in the stomach by the Tyrant is canonical, as that is the ending depicted in Umbrella Chronicles, where the story is told on his behalf.

He survives by regenerating from a pre-injected prototype virus, but it's unclear if his death was part of the plan. His first report states that Wesker planned his temporary death from the Tyrant, but in subsequent retellings of this moment, I began to question how relevant this report was. His reaction and facial emotion shown in the re1 remake described surprise. But he couldn't be faking it at that moment, because he already had his back turned to Jill and Chris. Considering the way Wesker in Umbrella Chronicles describes his death, it seems like he really didn't expect this. Something didn't go according to plan. He didn't plan for this kind of trauma to activate the virus within him.

The point about the prototype virus is also worth mentioning. Birkin, on Spencer's orders, misled Wesker by telling him that this substance was developed specifically for him. That is, Wesker did not know the truth and details about having a huge probability of simply dying from the injection. Judging by the information in the notes, if Wesker had not injected it into himself, the virus would have entered his body in some other way, it was inevitable. The remaining 12 Weskers were injected with the virus, some by force, some at the request of a friend, and some under the guise of vaccination.

Let's take it a little further. Wesker was declared dead and moved on to another organization. Now his plan was to get rid of the sinking ship that is Umbrella. But why was he so intent on destroying it? It could have been a personal vendetta, after all, it was Umbrella that had manipulated his life and taken away his freedom. It was also a way to prove to his new organization that he was worth something.

By executing his plan, he inadvertently helped Chris and Jill, who were seeking the same thing. I'd call it «WX», but since he was pursuing a personal goal for his own benefit, it's 50\50.

Then in re4 he gives Ada the task finds the amber with the parasite Plaga. Considering that Wesker moves quietly around the island in the remake, it's odd that he didn't get that amber himself. With the power and speed from the virus, he took it all on the shoulders of one Ada, who was also infected during the mission, which only wasted his time. Didn't want to get his hands dirty? Maybe. But if he had gotten them dirty, the mission would have been completed faster, and isn't that a tactical advantage?

In the remake, he manifests «WX» (DLC Separate Ways) when he shows up at just the right moment for Ada and saves her from the ganados. After likely killing them with a gun, he takes a passed out Ada to Mendez's bedside, where he gives her a temporary recovery shot (or draws her blood?) But you know what's even weirder? He purposely chose a comfortable place for Ada, rather than laying her down on the ground somewhere. He was also there with her the entire time she was lying unconscious. I'd put an exclamation point on that weirdness, because... why? First of all, why did he save her when he could have continued the mission in her place? Recall Code Veronica, there Wesker arrived on the island with his HCF squad, but then we find his soldiers infected. He showed no concern for them and actually continued the mission on his own. Second, why did he keep sitting there? To scold and pathos leave?

He envisioned the option of Ada's possible betrayal and later stole Krauser's body, from which he had already extracted the Plaga sample, but he saved her anyway. Why? All of Ada's subsequent tasks on the island he could also have accomplished on his own and much faster. It's not like he was very busy if he allowed himself to sit with a sleeping Ada. The next meeting with Ada takes place on the elevation. Wesker brings her a case, pointing a gun at her. What is this gesture for? I don't think he sees her as a threat. Maybe it's a way to lend weight to his words, but doesn't he consider his authority absolute? He's a much bigger threat than the gun in his hand, so it's an odd action that makes him seem insecure.

After Ada's betrayal, one of Wesker's allies informs him that her helicopter can be attacked, but he refuses, calling it her "little act of defiance". Thus, he gives someone the Plaga sample she stole, and also spares Ada herself. It's «WX», though he could have gotten rid of two problems at once - the traitor and the competition.

We are now transported to the future, in the DLC for Re5 – «Lost in Nightmares». Here's where the fun begins.

DLC reveals to us that something has been bothering Wesker all his life, and that something is a subconscious manipulation that has been psychologically programmed into every Wesker. The so-called «Spencer's presence». It was a defense mechanism that constantly caused a sense of anxiety and a desire to seek out Spencer, to obey him. But this defense stopped working as soon as the old man met his prodigal son and told him everything. Wesker learned from him the whole truth about himself and about «project W», that his whole life had been manufactured. Then the defenses in his head were destroyed and he quietly killed Spencer, appropriating his dream for himself. He failed to deal with the realization of the truth, taking his dream of becoming God and creating a perfect humanity. An infantile fantasy of an unjust world that needed to be changed to fit his ideals.

In that moment, he faced his fear head-on. There she was - the cause of his fears, the person who had gotten into the depths of his mind, into his innermost being. Spencer. And now this old man was lying bloody on the floor. Perhaps Wesker should have been relieved and finally started living the life he wanted, not this old man. But he had taken Spencer's dream for himself, thus, once again acting against his will. In doing so, he didn't walk away from the problem, but exacerbated it without even realizing it. Wesker must have guessed that he had some problems, but his inflated ego that prevented him from thinking about it, screaming that he couldn't have any flaws. The problem became a hole that he tries to fill with things like this.

Whereas other characters conquer their fears by facing them, Wesker drowned in them, unwilling to change anything. His entire personality was built on the horror of losing himself, and when he found out that he basically had no self all his life, he lost his mind. He decided, since this world was unfair to him, then he needed to completely rewrite it and turn it into his own utopia, in which he would be whoever he wanted, untouchable, whom no one would point out and control.

However, thanks to the re4r (DLC Separate Ways), we now know that similar thoughts haunted Wesker even before he met Spencer. His desire to change people and start a new era he expresses after the credits. With this, the writers patched a few plot holes that appeared after re5. Now Wesker sounds like he didn't assign Spencer's goals to himself, but even before meeting him, he decided on a vision based on his upbringing.

Unfortunately, there is a long known scripting problem re5, because Wesker was not planned as a character who will survive the events of this game, so his motivation sounds stereotypical and stupid, because his plan and should not have been realized. Must be in the remake they will fix this flaw, because the beginning has already been made. His moment of frustration after killing Spencer is interrupted by Chris and Jill coming up. Consumed by rage, Wesker is seriously trying to kill Chris this time, or he was playing with him again, knowing that he would not oppose him. After saving her partner from death, Jill pushes Wesker out the window, falling down onto the rocks with him. After falling off a cliff, Wesker obviously survives, but also saves Jill. Why not just leave her to die? Why treat her and then plan to make her a test subject? Aren't there other healthy people out there? Stupid and empty revenge is not in his character. This is just another manifestation of «WX» and his obsessive desire to cling to the past.

I don't have much to say about re5, because Wesker died there, or we were made to think so. The only thing I will mention is his unhealthy attitude towards Chris. He displays it at every chance he gets. The notes about Wesker in Umbrella Chronicles state «As a spy he held the concurrent post of S.T.A.R.S. Captain and has been impressed by Chris' combat abilities since then», and during the events of Umbrella Chronicles, Wesker said the phrase «Chris, it appears our fates are forever intertwined». In the re1 remake and Code Veronica, he openly stated that Chris was «his best man» in a sort of unobtrusive admiration. It's no longer possible to perceive Redfield as separate from Wesker.

Each time he points a gun at him, Wesker never takes a shot on target. In the battle on the airplane, he points the gun at Chris without even putting his finger on the trigger. Such a good opportunity to kill him, to get rid of the enemy for good, and he just stands there holding a gun he's not even going to use. Just take the shot and it's over, but no, he's standing there babbling on as if it's actually that much more important to him. It's like Wesker was looking for an opportunity to vent to the very person from his past. It's reminiscent of the moment he pointed the gun at Ada. It's like he was trying to add weight to his words, to show the importance of what he was doing.

In Code Veronica, he decided to play with Chris instead of killing him. So many opportunities were missed, as if he couldn't physically hurt «his best man». Chris is Wesker's only drop of common sense. If he was sure of what he was doing, and also sure of himself, he wouldn't have left Chris any chance of survival. He would have killed Redfield at the first opportunity, but he stands there every time and doubts what he's doing. Chris is a kind of controlling element to him that constantly makes him hesitate.

And this strange hatred for Chris also raises questions. Maybe he hates him because he was jealous of what he owned? Something that cannot be obtained with money. Support, understanding, the love of a sister and close people, trust. Wesker compulsively convinced himself that he was not made for such things, for even having a sister, they did not possess affection. From the beginning he had no friends and his only companion was Birkin, though their relationship could hardly be called a normal friendship. He had no family or loved ones, and the only support he received came from «patrons» who were actually agents of Spencer and Umbrella. Seeing the Redfields supporting each other in difficult moments, being heroic, Wesker truly realized that he would never do the same. He has no people he holds dear, nor does he have those who hold him dear. There are no irreplaceable people in his worldview, but this connection between Redfields is probably beyond his comprehension. It's a simple human problem, which is why he's so fixated on himself, because if he loses the only thing he has, he'll have nothing left. He's miserable and drowning in his own despair.

While interacting with Chris on the volcano, Wesker first reveals his idealistic, infantile nature, naively dreaming of a better world without war and disease. Losing control of his powers and realizing that he will not defeat Chris in such a state, he decides to overdose himself with Ouroboros, which in the end does not make him stronger at all, but only slows him down, making him drown not only in weakness, but also in his own uncontrollable anger and frustration. Events are moving too quickly and so it can be assumed that his words here are not addressed to Chris, but to himself. After all, in the last battle he claimed to be «saving the world» and now he wonders ��is it worth saving?» He dies without knowing the answer.

«However, there is no point in power if it consumes itself» his phrase, well suited to the situation at hand.

Btw, in the original idea, the moment before he died, his eye color would become natural, showing despair and horror. An interesting idea that was discarded.

I would also like to parse his phrases: «Only those with superior DNA will be chosen by Uroboros. Only those fit for survival will be allowed to carry their genes into a new age!» Also, «I don't need anyone else. I have Uroboros!»

Wesker is more aware of how the world works than anyone else. Corruption, betrayal, human vice and filth. He had to participate in it to achieve his goal, had to go through a lot of disgusting people for the sake of getting benefits, himself to sink to their level. Seeing this, he has become disillusioned with people, so he wishes they would disappear, giving way to someone more «worthy» of life. He also renounces everyone, entrusting his fate to his creation, desperate to gain understanding.

His life was cut short at the age of 48 (2009) in a volcano, but that's according to official reports. In theory Wesker and his possible clone are alive now, which we could learn from Umbrella Corps. But I'm not going to tell you about it here.

I failed to mention that at 32, Wesker had a relationship with a woman named Muller. Strangely, she was still alive afterward and had a good opinion of him. Although it would seem that with such a personality it should be the other way around.

She ended up pregnant, and now, as of 2021 in the re8 storyline, their son is 29 years old. I can understand why she might not have informed Wesker about the son, because first of all he might not have approved and made her get rid of him, and secondly she might have lost the ability to contact him, since he was working in secret. But the fact that she kept the baby speaks volumes. That the man she broke up with is genuinely pleasant to her. I mean, if he'd been the way he was at the time of his death, it's unlikely she would have kept the baby. Often victims of violence/abuse get rid of their children, no one wants a child from a tyrant. That's the side of this character that we don't know anything about.

It's hard to imagine how a person who has a fear of losing himself and who distances himself from others has managed to find a short-term relationship at all.

What about his personality? There's a double bottom here.

It's ambiguous. At first you see a stereotypical villain and then a psycho who wants to «save the world» by destroying it, a standard hackneyed scheme, nothing interesting.

But if you look closely, we see a simple man on the verge of despair. With his past behind him, he cannot give up everything and live the way he likes, because he is superfluous in this world. Because of his own fears, he has developed a belief that he has to strive for something in order not to lose himself. All Weskers have been raised to believe that they have a great destiny, which builds an unhealthy and extremely vulnerable self-esteem.

With his fear of losing his identity, Wesker isolates himself from others, creating psychological walls that even he is afraid to penetrate. This may be the reason he broke up with Ms. Muller. She risked getting into places where even his foot had not set foot, so it became necessary to distance himself from her in order to avoid unpredictable consequences.

His dream, adopted from Spencer, actually echoes his deeply buried problem. «Infect people with a virus that will only improve and not kill a select few like him» That is, Wesker dreamed of making people like himself. Isn't it loneliness and desperation that makes people do such things? It didn't seem that he was hungry for «power» specifically, because he already had it in the traditional sense. All the more, based on his words, he did not wish for evil with this gesture, he wished to «save» humanity, knowing that millions would die. For the sake of finding a company «worthy of him», he was willing to risk killing everyone and being alone. Desperate and lost, he began to make bad decisions.

You know, it's been unusually hard for me to see beyond the obvious. I feel like I did the wrong thing by taking it upon myself to judge him without knowing almost anything about him. I originally had a biased and negative opinion of the character. But now I've gone neutral.

What do I see in front of me now? A character disconnected from his own lore. We read about one thing and see something else entirely. And also an unhappy man. Wesker is famous for his reports. They were always interesting to read because of their informative and judicious tone, so it was much more interesting to watch him when he acted in accordance with his reasoning.

Judging from the story, he is able to evoke compassion and empathy in the viewer, but does he evoke it in action? In action, he evokes nothing. He is not even annoying, although a well-written character should evoke an emotional response, but he evokes it only with his story.

Creating something unambiguously negative is not a bad thing. But such a thing should be presented wisely, and it should have a certain kind of backstory, which will only deepen our belief that this object is evil.

But in Wesker's case, things went wrong from the start. Having created a story that resonates in you with an atmosphere of hopelessness, lack of choice, and fear of losing yourself, we see a character that doesn't match that. It's the events of the personal story that create the character, but if the character feels pulled from it, something went wrong in the writing.

If you are creating a character who is supposed to be compassion, the story should help with that, make you feel his problem. The same is true if you're writing someone who is negative and should be disgusting. Murder isn't enough to make a character a villain, the story is the main key. And our victim's story isn't about becoming evil at all, it's about fighting fear, where fear wins in the end, which doesn't fit with the concept of evil evil at all. That's why the player/reader/viewer can't always decide who he is: antagonist? Anti-villain? Who the hell is he?

[The beginning of an optional fragment]

By the way, there aren't enough facts in this analysis, so now we're going to break down the prototype virus that was injected into 13 Weskers. If you're not interested in that, skip to the next section. I haven't previously mentioned the Progenitor, from which many viruses in this universe originated, so the prototype is an unstable strain of the Progenitor, weakened dozens of times so as not to be too toxic. This virus either gives a person immense strength or kills them altogether. Alex stayed somewhere in the middle, because nothing happened to her, but her brother changed a lot.

Wesker has special genes, as well as immunity, that made the prototype fused with him. But activation, according to Birkin's report, requires a stressful situation. That means the hormones released as a result of stress dramatically amplify the influence of the virus, helping the body to initiate the fusion. It's all about hormones, we'll come back to that.

When Wesker received an injury incompatible with life from Tyrant, the hormones produced at that moment triggered the V-ACT process. He went into anabiosis, transforming all the cellular tissue in his body as well as repairing the damage he had sustained.

But having gained strength through a complete reorganization of his body, he was not yet aware of the instability of the virus inside. He didn't know that the prototype doesn't «fix» in his body. Therefore, the strength provided by the virus is not eternal, weakening with time.

So Wesker has to take PG67A/W regularly to re-secure the virus inside and stay strong. An insufficient dose of PG67A/W can cause malaise, and a large dose becomes poison. Which is what happened in re5 when Chris and Sheva injected him with the substance an extra two times. He experienced pain, and then presumably his powers escalated to the point where he no longer had control over them and they lost usefulness.

His son, Jake, also inherited genes and special immunity, which is why most viruses are harmless to him, but also do not give any advantages.

The fact that the forces of an overdose are not lost, proves the moment when Wesker easily damages the rocket with his bare hand.

Now back to the subject of hormones. Not only do they provoke viral activation, but they are a completely controlling element. Wesker, when provoking his emotions, can change the density of his own body, which also causes bioluminescence in his eyes. I noticed this when rewatching the re5 cutscenes. Always when he is about to strike, his eyes start to glow. Glow is emotion, and emotion is hormones.

This is why Excella can free pierce his skin with a needle and inject the drug, because at this point Wesker is calm and his body density is close to that of a human. In battle, his body is like a stone, it hurts Chris to hit him and this can be seen in his animations.

[The end of an optional fragment]

The injections are another painful element that robs Wesker of his sense of self-worth and freedom. Therefore, coupled with the fear of losing himself, he has an inferiority complex. This complex manifests itself outwardly in a superiority complex - in arrogance, an inflated ego, which we see in his behavior. This is the answer to the question of many people, why he behaves this way. Not considering himself a full member of society, not considering himself suitable for ordinary life, Wesker begins to believe that he is above «all that» and calls himself God, in other words self-deception.

An inflated ego is the result of psychological defense, a sign of hidden fears (loss of self). It also indicates the presence of insecurity, which he tries to hide by creating a strong image for the outside world. However, like many people with large egos, Wesker has a fragile self-esteem, which is why he hates so much the rude Chris who initially discerned his weak side. His self-esteem is closely tied to his ego, so with the image he has created, Wesker protects a side of himself that he never shows to others. He hides it even from himself, as I mentioned earlier.

I thought Jake's AI words would be perfect here:

This is the only fragment where I decided to have fun with AI, but it gave me something that really makes sense.

I would like to summarize, because the analysis turned out to be long, and something towards the end may have already slipped the reader's mind. So... What do we know?

Because of his nonstandard childhood and obsessive upbringing, Wesker has an unhealthy and extremely vulnerable self-esteem. By deceiving himself, he began to consider himself superior to everything ordinary, and to believe that he is simply not made for this cruel and unfair world with wars and diseases, so he dreams of creating «his own world», where there will be «equal» people, so that he will no longer feel superfluous.

Also, because of his childhood, he is withdrawn to the point where he hides his true feelings and needs even from himself. He feels safe as long as no one knows what he cares about. If you don't know what a person cares about, you can't manipulate him. And if he doesn't care about anything, he is invulnerable. He is afraid to be himself and express it. He himself doesn't know what «he» is really like. Judging by his phrases in the game, Wesker would like acceptance, but would never admit it openly.

It is also an echo of an effect he has been under the influence of all his life - the «fear of losing himself». This fear has become a convenient pattern of behavior in his life: pretending not to care about anything and believing it. People with this fear need to appear indifferent, not letting anyone know that anything matters to them.

But what is «fear of losing yourself»? It is the phobia that someone more powerful can manipulate you and take away your sense of security, of reliability, whereupon you no longer consider yourself strong and confident. Wesker felt for years that he was under Spencer's strong influence, his puppet, which cemented the «fear of losing himself» even deeper. Every step in his life was not his personal choice but Spencer's, Wesker was only made to think that he was acting on his own free will.

Loneliness and lack of empathy were also his eternal companions. Never having friends, never having family and support, and never having anyone that Wesker could cherish. And no one who would have treasured him. That's why he's so fixated on himself, because if he loses the only thing he has, he'll have nothing left at all. That's why he prioritizes pragmatism over emotion, easily betraying anyone and replacing one with another. But he also tends to cling to the past, sometimes betraying his pragmatism.

-------------------

Due to a misunderstanding, I would like to supplement my text. This analysis is only my personal interpretation and my personal view of the character and his story. I do not claim that it is 100% canon, because canon is so vague and disjointed that it is impossible to fully assemble it objectively. Everyone is entitled to have an interpretation different from mine. Best wishes to all!

#resident evil #rebhfun #resident evil 5 #resident evil 4 #albert wesker #chris redfield #umbrella chronicles #resident evil 6

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vibingvoices · 2 months

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A speech made at the Academy Awards by Jonathan Glazer, along with the subsequent reactions, sheds light on how people tend to distort others' words to portray themselves as victims and, more concerning, their willingness to reside in a dystopian bubble as long as it doesn't affect them directly.

Rather than idolising Hollywood, I've previously posted about the complexities of my evolving parasocial relationships. But to disregard the influence wielded by these elites would be naive. It's frustrating to witness those in power facing backlash when they attempt to bring attention to pertinent issues.

While the Oscars' prominence in Western pop culture is waning, the ceremony and the fervour surrounding the nominees and winners, especially in the major acting categories, still hold significant sway in film culture and the broader world.

So when such a speech is delivered at the Oscars, it's bound to garner attention:

All our choices were made to reflect and confront us in the present — not to say, “Look what they did then,” rather, “Look what we do now.” Our film shows where dehumanization leads, at its worst. It shaped all of our past and present. Right now we stand here as men who refute their Jewishness and the Holocaust being hijacked by an occupation, which has led to conflict for so many innocent people. Whether the victims of October the — [Applause.] Whether the victims of October the 7th in Israel or the ongoing attack on Gaza, all the victims of this dehumanization, how do we resist? [Applause.] Aleksandra Bystroń-Kołodziejczyk, the girl who glows in the film, as she did in life, chose to. I dedicate this to her memory and her resistance. Thank you.

Glazer highlighted in his speech that victims of the ongoing situation and the last 75 years, whether Palestinian and Israeli, all stem from the occupation and are casualties of entrenched ideologies like Zionism. But when he said this on stage and was immediately misquoted online on social media and by reputable news sources, alleging that he simply renounced his Jewish identity.

He also faced considerable backlash from those indicating a persistent conflation of anti-Zionism with anti-Semitism. It really parallels previous speeches of resistance at the Oscars. Boos rang loud and clear during Michael Moore's opposition to the Iraq war (which we know was a colossal failure by Geroge Bush and the US Government who perpetuated and pardoned multiple war crimes in the region after lying to their own people about evidence of weapons of mass destruction).

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There was also Sacheen Littlefeather's advocacy for Native American representation and the direct of attention to the Wounded Knee Occupation, a speech that had bodyguards having to restrain people from getting on the stage and attacking her.

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And, of course, Vanessa Redgrave's aim at “a small bunch of Zionist hoodlums whose behaviour is an insult to the stature of Jews all over the world and to their great and heroic record of struggle against fascism and oppression”, which still feels relevant today.

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Turning to Glazer's film, I am baffled at those who vehemently objected to it: Did they actually watch it? Because if they had any negative feelings towards Glazer's speech, especially after watching his film, it suggests, to me, a deficiency in critical thinking.

Glazer's film portrays a chilling atmosphere where genocide becomes normalised, echoing real-world situations like the ongoing conflict in Gaza. The film serves as a stark reminder of humanity's ability to coexist with atrocities, often turning a blind eye for the sake of comfort.

The horrors adjacent to the characters' lives evoke contemporary parallels, particularly in regions like Gaza. With over five months of relentless violence, Israel's defiance of international court orders, and Western governments passively reprimanding while fueling the conflict with arms shipments, the spectre of genocide looms ominously. It risks becoming a mundane backdrop to daily existence. It is a stark portrayal of how affluent lifestyles can be linked to neighbouring atrocities, challenging the notion of denial and complicity.

The film doesn't centre around the Holocaust (Glazer's own words), with its specific historical context. Instead, it delves into a more universal theme: humanity's ability to coexist with atrocities and even derive some form of reconciliation or gain from them. The discomforting reflections are on purpose. It prompts us to acknowledge that the threat of annihilation of any people is always closer than we might imagine.

One of the most poignant moments in the film occurs when a package filled with clothing and lingerie pilfered from the prisoners of the camp arrives at the Höss household. The commandant's wife decides that everyone, including the servants, can select one item. She claims a coat for herself and trys on makeup discovered in one of its pockets.

How can the people who are so staunch against Glazer not draw parallels with Israeli soldiers who have recorded themselves rummaging through the lingerie of Palestinian women and slut shaming them? (Why are Israeli soldiers obsessed with Gaza women's underwear?) Or proudly displaying stolen shoes and jewellery for their partners back home (Israeli soldier loots Palestinian homes for his engagement party). Or celebrating International Women's Day with a photo of women soldiers posing for selfies against the backdrop of destruction (How an AP photographer made this image of Israeli soldiers taking a selfie at the Gaza border).

The film is rife with these parallels that it feels like a documentary. It is a grim reality: the potential emergence of the first live-streamed genocide, captured by its very architects.

Gaza doesn't mirror the systematic mass murder machinery of Auschwitz, nor does it approach the scale of Nazi atrocities. However, the entire purpose behind establishing the postwar framework of international humanitarian law was to equip us with the means to collectively recognise practices before history repeats itself on a large scale. And disturbingly, some of these practices – such as the construction of walls, creation of ghettos, mass killings, openly stated intentions of elimination, widespread starvation, plundering, gleeful dehumanisation, and deliberate humiliation – are recurring. And have been long before October 7th.

How do we disrupt the cycle of trivialisation and normalisation? What actions can we take? There are persistent protests and acts of civil disobedience to "uncommitted" votes, disrupting events, organising aid convoys, fundraising for refugees, and creating radical works of art.

And as genocide fades further into the background of our culture, some people grow too desperate for any of these efforts. I am certainly one of them.

Yet, these efforts seem insufficient, particularly when those in positions of power remain indifferent. It's insufficient when I watch a video of a little girl saying that the violence has made her feel less beautiful before she talks about her father being kidnapped by Israeli soldiers or of the orphans visiting their mother's burial spot in the street. It is insufficient when the death toll rises to exceed the daily death toll of any other major conflict of the 21st century.

Perhaps it's unfair of me to prioritise one tragedy over another, given the multitude of suffering in the world – the ones that are in the news cycle and the ones that are not. Yet, my connection to Palestine and its plight feels as personal as it can be without me actually being Palestinian, fostered from childhood teachings and further enriched through my own research. I have loved ones directly impacted by this conflict: friends in the diaspora grappling with survivor's guilt, friends in the West Bank enduring the daily hardships of occupation. And my friends in Gaza are all either dead, dying or being pushed straight into the arms of death.

The realisation that my efforts to help them are insufficient fills me with frustration. I'm angered by the indifference of those in power and by the hostility encountered by those attempting to bring the truth to the forefront.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #anti zionisim #academy awards #oscars #jonathan glazer #the zone of interest #geopolitics #politics #i hate doing tags #Youtube

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underhousearrestblog · 10 months

Text

Lost In Translation | Pedro Pascal

(summary) a drunk confession makes things weird between you and Pedro

(warnings) an age gap (oh the horror)

(pairings) Pedro Pascal x reader

(genre/ tropes) angst, lemon-y fluff, miscommunication, mutual pining, friends to lovers

(word count) 7.7k

(also) Pedro’s point of view (of sorts) is in Italics

(also) minors, scram (I’m kidding. Kinda. I was reading these types of things when I was twelve. I’m not the one to advise anything. Just, please, don’t interact. Better for my conscience and your digital footprint.)

(also) damn – I’m actually doing something here now... a step up from my usual one-post-per-six-months activity...

HAPPY READING!

Things around you blurred, people’s faces were distorted and music was giving you a headache. You lost count how many drinks you had about an hour ago and now you were regretting having any.

Your friends – who were more work acquaintances than friends – had ditched you, you had no car that you wouldn’t be able to operate in this condition anyway and not enough money to call a cab. All you had were a very revealing dress with a deep cut up your right thigh and a phone with around twenty percent charge left.

You stepped outside. Evening air did some but still not enough good for you to feel confident enough to walk those two and a half kilometers to your apartment building. Especially not in these knee-high boots. You would probably end up murdered. Or murdering yourself by accidentally stepping in front of a car. Either way, in a ditch.

You checked over you contacts for anyone who would pick up a phone and pick you up at the club at this ungodly hour. Since you had moved, most of your contacts were pretty much useless for this type of shit.

You pulled out your wallet. There were several business cards that you had gotten since you had started to work as a PR manager for The Last Of Us production team. Your eyes scanned over some of the names. Nico Parker. You weren’t sure she even got her license yet. Bella Ramsey. You knew for a fact she didn’t have a car.

Pedro Pascal.

Shit.

Well, from a purely objective stance, he was the best choice. He could pick you up and he didn’t give creepy vibes so technically you should be fine.

The problem was – he probably didn’t even know who you were. You had been on, like, two lunches with him with purely professional intentions. There had been more people from both the cast and the PR team and, even though you had spoken to him one-on-one multiple times, he had these types of conversations every day.

Worst he could do was say no.

To be fair, he could theoretically also cuss you out.

Or look at an unknown number and not even pick up.

Before you let your mind talk itself out of it, your fingers typed in his number and called.

It was quite chilly, now that you were out in dark alley with only your stripper dress on. It was pretty but god was it doing a shit job at keeping you warm.

The phone was calling and after the very first ring, you started to doubt yourself.

Maybe it would be less embarrassing if you just called your boss? Sure, she would know you indulged in an occasional living of your life but she was a woman and maybe would be more sympathetic than most of the men you worked with...

Two-

- Y/N? – unprepared for Pedro to actually pick up, you startled.

Your brain was foggy from all the alcohol and your body was still trying to decipher the sudden temperature drop so it took you several seconds to even put words together.

- Hey, are you alright? – it was actually him.

He really picked up at a quarter to midnight.

How did he know who was calling?

- Hey, Pedro, - up until this point you had used the formal “Mr. Pascal” just like everybody in your team but now it would feel weird. – So I have a bit of a... situation?

What was the term for getting drunk and placing all your trust in people that you had met two weeks ago?

- Are you alright? – he sounded worried. – Where are you?

Not wanting to appear nervous yourself, you tried to put on a smile, hoping it would make your voice sound lighter and careless.

- I’m at the... – you looked over your shoulder at the sign in front of the club, - Sensual Vibes, - you cringed at the name.

He definitely thinks you’re at a strip club.

- It’s a bar downtown. And I’m kinda drunk and I don’t really have any money, and my asshole friends left, and I’m also kinda col-

- Do you need me to pick you up? – he didn’t sound mad.

If anything – he sounded almost careful. As if he didn’t want to push any boundaries by insisting.

You were silent for a second.

Why was it so hard for you to ask for help when it was clear you desperately needed it?

Fucking pride.

You can cringe in shame tomorrow when you haven’t been murdered trying to walk home drunk...

- Yeah, - you said quietly before adding, - but it’s totally fine if you can’t. I’m sure two kilometers of walking will be fine if I can get off these stripper shoes-

- I’ll be there in twenty, - he said in a voice that left no arguments. – Go back inside. I’ll come in and get you.

- Who was that? – Oscar asked, stuffing the leftover pizza back into the box.

- Y/N, - Pedro put away his phone and went to get his car keys.

- Y/N? Who the fuc-

His hand stopped halfway to close the lid.

- Oh shit, - Oscar laughed, turning towards his friend. – Is that the girl from the PR team? It’s that Y/N?

Pedro didn’t answer and went to get his jacket. Oscar, in true friend fashion, followed him into the hallway, while teasing:

- Is that the same girl who still calls you Mr. Pascal even though you corrected her, like, thousand times?

Pedro just rolled his eyes.

This wasn’t exactly new. Oscar had never really met you – at least, in person – though there was abundance of information regarding you given by his friend every time Pedro had a drop of alcohol in his system.

- You know, if you weren’t so famous, I’d think she actually didn’t even know your first name by how much she uses the surname... – Oscar went back to pick up the leftover pizza, before turning back and looking at his friend suspiciously. – Are you sure she meant to call you? I mean, if she called you by your name, the call might have been meant for another Pedro. All I’m saying is-

Pedro threw him a dark look and turned to leave. Could that be true? You never really called him by his name and he was almost one hundred percent sure you didn’t even have his number...

- Lock up before you leave, - Pedro murmured before opening the door.

You were drunk and alone so, either way, you’ll have to make peace with it.

Once Pedro had ended the call, all you could do was blankly stare at the screen. To be fair, you were very intoxicated so... could you had hallucinated this whole conversation?

Either way – waiting inside was probably the best choice here...

You dropped down on a sofa in the foyer. You felt a headache coming on.

God, this is gonna be embarrassing...

After fifteen minutes of waiting and contemplating about leaving on your own, a hand lightly touched your shoulder, making you startle yet again. You had been way too focused on a painting on the wall to notice anybody approaching.

- Pedro? – your eyebrows shot up as if you were surprised that the person who you had called had actually shown up.

- Were you waiting for someone else? – there was a note in his voice you couldn’t quite decipher and your foggy mind refused to cooperate.

- N-no, - you stammered out. – I just wasn’t sure you would actually show up...

Now was his turn to look surprised. He opened his mouth to say something but, when you lightly swayed on your feet, he quickly put an arm around your shoulders to steady you.

When he lightly pressed his palm on the skin between your shoulder blades, a small shiver ran through your body, making you look up at him. He had probably seen or feel you shiver and had interpreted that as you being cold which was technically true. He pulled off his jacket that looked way too big for you.

You were by no means model-thin but the jacket was oversized on him so it looked like it would end up around your knees.

You shook your head.

- I’m not taking your jacket after you drove all this w-

- Don’t argue, - was all he said before lifting your arm, pulling the sleeve over it and then repeating the same on the other side. – And it’s still longer than that pretty thing you call a dress, - his eyes ran over your half-naked body.

Not in a leering way. But he did gulp when his eyes touched on the slit across your thigh.

Great, there’s no getting this out of memory, he chastised himself for enjoying and savoring you while you were very clearly drunk.

Shit, he’s probably uncomfortable, was all you could think about.

His car was pleasantly warm. You managed to climb in on your own but when it came to the seatbelt, you fingers still lacked focus and were stiff. After two unsuccessful attempts at connecting the two parts, Pedro gently peeled your fingers from the belt, reached over and buckled you in himself.

Before he could step back, you placed your hand on his bicep to stop him. The touch itself was innocent enough but you felt your skin lightly tingling as if you had touched a wire with low charge.

Pedro’s eyes followed you to where your skin had touched his. All he could do was stare at your fingers around his arm.

- Shit, sorry, - you decided he was probably uncomfortable and withdrew your hand, - sorry, I didn’t mean-

- It’s fine-

- I just wanted to say thank you, - your gaze held his. – I don’t know what I would’ve done otherwise.

There was something intoxicating in doing favors for you. He would’ve driven to pick up any of the women he knew if they were drunk and alone but your trust in him made him a bit delirious.

He wanted you to call him if you ever needed to get home drunk but he also wanted to drive you to a meaningless appointment and pick you up after work.

- It’s fine, - he swallowed before stepping back. – You’re welcome.

He could hear Oscar’s teasing voice in his head, telling him how absurdly romantic it was for him to simp after a girl who probably read his number off a business card when hers had been cataloged in his phone since day one. He probably could recall it from memory at this point.

Pedro closed the door on your side and walked around to get into the driver’s seat. He tried to take in some of the chilling evening air before getting in.

- ... and my friend said just go up to him and ask him out, - he heard you say once he got in, - but every time I looked at his pretty face I chicked out... – you hiccuped, - chic... chickened out! And then-

Your words were slurred and half-coherent.

Pedro started the car, pulled out of the parking lot and then threw a glance at you.

- Who were you trying to ask out?

- I wasn’t trying... And he wouldn’t come anyway...

Alcohol had made you braver and in a stupid attempt to rip your own band-aid off, you turned towards Pedro and whispered in an almost broken voice:

- Would you go on a date with me?

You needed his answer. Tomorrow was gonna be shameful but you could, at least, write this off as a drunken mistake. You had finally done it, you had finally gathered all your courage and taken a step-

But it was the way you had said it. With the accent on the word ‘you’. All Pedro heard was your confession about liking another man and how busy he was, and now you looked at him with glossy eyes and it made him wonder if this stupid man you were talking about had said something to make you insecure. You had just confessed about your crush and needed confirmation that other men – smarter men – would still date you.

But knowing that you trusted him enough to take you home drunk, he knew he couldn’t just confess about wanting you for himself. That was a dick move used by every false male friend around the world.

- I... – you watched his throat work, as he was putting words together, then he ripped his gaze away from where you sat in his car, in his jacket, for the first time ever giving him your undivided attention. – I think you’re amazing and any man would be lu-

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. His figure got distorted through the rapidly increasing moisture.

You are amazing.

Any man would be lucky to date you.

Not me though.

Last one wasn’t said out loud but, in your defense, it was usually never spelled out when a person was rejecting someone.

This was a rejection speech.

He was giving you a rejection speech!

You lifted your hand to silence him. He immediately did and you looked out through the window on your side.

- Please, don’t, - your voice broke at the end. – I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

It was said and done.

You had asked and he had rejected you. Work’s gonna be a bitch but PR, thankfully, was a team effort so you could probably take meetings with another member of the cast and make one of your colleague meet with Pedro. Eventually, your stupid little feelings would stop hurting and you would move on.

Eventually.

Until then you probably should avoid Pedro every chance you got.

It was said and done.

Even drunk, you had realized his incurable crush on you and in a very “I’m well-versed in public relations” manner had put an end to his confession. What was it that you had said? I respect you way too much...

Respect you way too much to outright say “no”.

You had a crush on a man you worked with. Probably someone your age. Probably someone who’s life wasn’t constantly dissected on every media platform.

You were a real pretty girl so even if you never gathered the courage to take the first step, that man you talked about would probably do it for you. He would be stupid not to.

Which meant that at some point you would be seen on set, laughing and kissing some other man who probably had no idea for how long you had lusted after him. And Pedro knew that if your crush forgot what he’s got, he would be way too tempted to teach him a lesson or two about not throwing away life’s biggest treasures.

Maybe even way too tempted to put the fear of god into that man. To threaten to never dare to break your pretty little heart.

But you had good taste in most things. And the man you were talking about asking out was probably good. More than good. He probably was respectful in public and would make you scream his name in private. Buy you a nice dress and later rip it off your body. Pick you up to take you places and then wait patiently for you to come back to him.

You deserved the best. And you were probably way too good for that boy you liked. Granted, Pedro thought you were way too good for basically everyone, including himself, but he also wasn’t one of those men that would pass on an amazing woman all because “she’s too good for him”.

Nah. He knew he would greedily accept your love and lust if only you offered. He might have thought you were too good for him but he also knew there were many things he could provide for you. He was successful, had money, a stable job, he was mature and wouldn’t play any games. Besides, he was damn near sure he loved you and even with you reciprocating just half of that love and affection, it still would be perfect.

- What’s your add-

Once he looked over to where you were watching him just a minute ago, Pedro found you fast asleep with your head pressed against the window. His jacket, way too big for you, had fallen down your shoulder, revealing that distractingly little napkin you bravely called a dress.

Shit.

This was definitely not good.

If he had to bring you back to his home, he knew he would see ghosts of you every time he stepped inside his own house. And that would be bad. Right now you were already everywhere at work, he couldn’t afford to let you make yourself at home in his private space too. Damage would take months to undo.

He contemplated waking you up but even then there would be no guarantee that you would even remember where you lived in this condition.

Pedro started driving towards his own home slower than necessary, hoping you would wake up at some point and give him your address.

All he could hope for was that Oscar had already left because, otherwise, Pedro would never hear the end of this...

Shitshitshit.

Your head was hurting even before you opened your eyes. That was never a good thing. Once you did, you were met with a semi-dark room that was vaguely lit by a small lamp left on on the nightstand.

Where the fuck where you?

This looked way too homey to be a hotel and way too impersonal to be someone’s bedroom. You lifted the thick blanket that was draped over you to check out if you weren’t missing any clothes. Or some more important things, like body parts.

Your eyebrows shot up in confusion when you were met with the same light blue dress you had worn at the club with just more wrinkles in it now. All you were missing where the boots that you saw placed by the bed.

You checked the small alarm clock on the nightstand.

5:06 AM.

It was early.

On a day off, you probably wouldn’t have woken up this early but your body had most likely dealt with the alcohol in your system and had woken up naturally once you had sobered up.

Then you noticed the small note placed next to the clock.

I’m not sure how much you remember but I picked you up from a club. You didn’t give me an address before passing out, so I brought you home with me. You’re in my guest bedroom. I’m in the one down the hall. I got you some aspirin and water. And some clothes.

Pedro.

There was something else written on the paper but it was scribbled out. You lifted the note and placed it before the small lamp, letting the light shine through.

Cute dress.

You smiled, however that smile lasted for exactly one second before you remembered the conversation in the car. You had asked Pedro on a date. He had given you the “there’s more fish in the sea” speech.

God.

You had excused your bravery with “you can live today and be embarrassed tomorrow” but now, when tomorrow was finally here, you weren’t sure it was actually worth it.

Thank god you didn’t work closely with Pedro because this would be ten times more awkward if you were an actress.

You quickly changed into the clothes Pedro had left for you. It was a white t-shirt with something spelled in a foreign language you didn’t understand. The shirt reached down to your knees and covered more than your dress had. You could technically leave in just the t-shirt but your sudden sobriety would probably result in you freezing to death so you decided to wear sweatpants as well. You rolled up the ends of the pants that were too long, threw a glance in the mirror and decided that you looked presentable enough.

Once you left the guest room with the dress still in your hand, you tried to find out if Pedro had already woken up. It seemed unlikely. It was very early.

And that seemed to be the truth, as none of the lights were on in neither the kitchen nor the living room. Or in the hallway.

Thank god the key was still in the door and you didn’t have to wake him up to unlock the door. You carefully tiptoed through the hallway and sneaked out through the front door, leaving nothing but a vague scent of your perfume and a note on the living room table.

Thank you. Truly. You have no idea how grateful I am. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

That’s exactly how Pedro found your note three hours later when he woke up. Note had no name. Apparently, you didn’t assume he rescued women every night and didn’t think he would mix you up with someone else.

As if he ever could.

He was quite grateful to have missed you, in case you remembered how he had come onto you in the car. He didn’t want a pitying glance and you saying sorry, as if you had anything to be sorry about.

Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever need anything.

Pedro let out a bitter laugh. That’s what you sign at the bottom of a work email, in hopes the recipient never truly reaches out for anything. You just felt like you owed him.

three weeks later

Pedro felt somebody brush a makeup brush over his temple to add some last touches before the filming started. People were running around, adding and taking down some props. Camera crew were doing some last check-ups. And in what Pedro thought was a torturosly ironic touch to an already important scene that caused some nerves to resurface, you were there.

In fairness, you weren’t here on your own and by your own wish. Some people of the PR and social media management teams were here, hoping to take some photos of behind the scenes for marketing.

And they were all pretty irrelevant because his eyes didn’t leave you for one second.

Pedro, Bella and some of the others were placed good ten meters from where you were standing by the door of the room that seemed to shrink every second. You were either unaware of his intense gaze or simply ignored it.

Pedro didn’t know which one would piss him off more.

There weren’t many things that didn’t irritate him these days. Oscar had started to call it Y/N withdrawal. As if he was an addict. A junkie who’s been cut off from his favorite drug of choice.

At first, Pedro was understanding. You probably felt weird you had clocked him liking you and wanted space. Fine. He would be an asshole not to give you space. Then he called you but the call always went to voicemail. On week two he had the first PR dinner since ‘the incident’ and when you didn’t show and had sent one of your assistants in your place, it only soured Pedro’s mood. The assistant had lied about you not feeling well but when you were still nowhere to be seen on the next meeting – and the next – he knew it was an excuse.

You were making excuses.

Week three took the crown when at one of the advertisement meetings that was mandatory for all cast and production team members, you had apparently ‘had a doctor’s appointment’.

Now he was pissed at the whole world and especially himself for fucking this up. You were a smart girl and he should’ve expected you to put two and two together that night. And, in addition, he was just a tiny bit pissed at you for not giving him a chance to apologize.

When you excused yourself and went into the kitchen, Pedro quickly stood up.

- Sorry, - he murmured to the makeup artist. – I’ll be right back.

Filming was set to start in ten minutes.

That was all he needed to say the things that needed to be said.

You were facing the open fridge when Pedro walked in. You read something that was written on the side of what looked like a protein shake.

You looked good. There were no signs of tiredness in your eyes. No sluggish movements. No yawning.

That was good, Pedro tried to tell himself.

Would it hurt for you to be a little affected that he was absent from your life for three whole weeks?

Then his eyes caught a thin bracelet around your wrist. It was shiny and had a minimalistic heart charm on it.

Pedro recalled Oscar once mentioning getting something similar to his wife because “the only time women wear heart jewelry is if it’s gifted by a man who’s interested”.

It was quite a big assumption that the bracelet was, one, a gift, two, from a man, and three, that it was the same moron you wanted to date. And yet it only fueled Pedro’s irrational jealousy and anger.

He let go of the door and it fell shut with a loud bang.

You jumped.

- It’s really unprofessional, you know, - Pedro accused. – This behavior of yours lately.

It only took a second for you to go from a startled look to a glare. You put the drink back in the fridge and shut the door. Loudly.

How matching.

- Excuse you? – you pushed back.

- I get that you’re avoiding me and that’s fine but you also have a job to do, - he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. – You’ve missed several PR meetings and allowed your underage intern to replace you.

You chuckled under your breath and looked away.

So that’s what this was about...

- So you feel a bit neglected because an intern – highly skilled, might I add, - was attending a few of the meetings? Is he not good enough for you?

Pedro looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.

- I don’t care if he’s as useless as a toddler – don’t change the subject!

You blew away a strand of your hair that had fallen in front of your face.

God you looked hot angry.

When you tried to side-step him and leave, Pedro followed your movements until his back hit the door, leaving you without an escape. He leaned against it, wrapped his right palm around his left wrist and looked down at you.

- You’re avoiding me, - he was glaring at you.

You glared back.

- No shit.

Pedro had expected more resistance. Or more excuses. He definitely expected you to look at him with a confused stare and say ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’. Now that you had done none of that, it felt a bit weird to “confront” you because you had had every right to avoid him.

- I’m just making sure you don’t get a write-up for skipping work, - even though the words were genuine, the tone was rude and you recoiled.

You looked up at him as if he’d slapped you.

- Are you threatening to snitch on me for skipping few meetings?

His eyes widened.

Shit.

- That’s not wh-

- Fuck you.

Now he looked like you had slapped him.

This was going downhill and fast. He had never accused anybody of bad work ethics and you had never cursed at someone for essentially doing nothing wrong, really.

You had spent three weeks, trying to soothe your ego. But rejection still stung. And, for the first time in your life, your personal feelings had affected your professional life. There was no excuse for that.

So you exhaled, counted to ten, got to five and decided to push your emotions down. You didn’t actually believe that Pedro would ever attempt anything to harm your career but he was still a big star and, would somebody come across this very unprofessional conversation, your future job opportunities might be in jeopardy.

- Listen, I’m sorry, okay? – you said, then quickly added. – For missing those meetings.

You didn’t want to voice that you were also apologizing for taking rejection badly.

Even though, you were.

- Won’t happen again.

His eyes softened.

- I’m sorry too, okay? – he lifted his hand to place it on your shoulder or upper arm but decided against it in the last second and let it fall back against his side.

You laughed. Genuinely.

- What are you sorry for?

- For what I said in the car, - he explained.

Your eyes returned to the startled expression that they were in when he first came in. You had wanted to avoid that night but he had brought it up voluntarily. He could see your prey-like expression and shook his head:

- I didn’t mean... – he got quiet for a second. – That would be a lie. I did mean it. But I think I could’ve worded it better. Maybe. Or explained it to you when you were sober...

I didn’t mean... That would be a lie. I did mean it.

His words, even though soft and placating, still grazed your heart like a knife.

You could respect him for not leading you on.

Leading someone on was still worse than letting somebody down gently.

Be a big girl and accept defeat like a champ, you motivated yourself.

- That’s fine. It didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t mean anything.

You had realized he liked you, damn near loved you, and it didn’t mean anything.

His love meant nothing.

Pedro swallowed and nodded. When you gestured towards the door that he was still blocking, he stepped aside, letting you leave.

- Did you feel harassed by me? – he asked before you left.

You laughed. But when you realized he was dead-ass serious, your smile fell.

- What?

- In my car. That night. Did you feel harassed by me?

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Even though it was absurd for him to ask this, you felt warmth engulf your heart.

He’s making sure you didn’t feel unsafe with him...

God.

He’s gonna make a great partner to someone someday...

- God no, - you grinned, trying to put him at ease.

- You sure? – he asked.

- Of course, - you gave him a bittersweet smile. – How could I have felt harassed? Nothing happened.

Nothing happened, as in, I asked you out and you turned me down, simple as that.

Nothing happened, as in, you figured I liked you and that realization meant nothing, I still mean nothing to you.

When week four rolled in, things had went back to normal. The weird kind of normal. The professional kind of normal. You were present in all PR meetings you needed to attend, Pedro went out of his way to treat you like a friend.

He had started bringing these weird mini cupcakes from around where he was living. Every meeting, he would show up and give them out to all, usually five or six, attending persons. He would never skip you, giving you exactly the same amount of pleasantries, sweets and eye contact as to every other person from the cast and PR teams. It was as if he had timed your interactions to make sure you felt identical to everybody else here.

You translated his actions as he’s making sure to drive home the point of “I treat everybody like this, don’t make this weird, you’re not special in that sense”.

He translated his actions as making sure you saw that even after you rejected him, he still wouldn’t be passive-aggressive towards you and wouldn’t exclude you from anything.

“Don’t make things weird” had become a motto for both of you, at this point. This was exactly why Pedro had advised Oscar to also invite you to the party he was throwing in honor of ending the shooting of one of Oscar’s movies. Even though Pedro knew you would show up all dolled up and, most likely, with a plus one, as suggested the invitation.

And “don’t make things weird” was exactly why you had accepted, even though the last time you had attended a formal function, it had ended with you at a club and with no ride or money.

You had showed up in a black sleeveless dress that reached your knees. Pedro had had exactly one drink and he was using the hell out of it as an excuse why he couldn’t – and wouldn’t – take his eyes off you. The dress was simple and maybe exactly because of that your own beauty shone through more than usual when there was nothing to distract people from it.

Then you turned towards the small home bar and his eyes slid over your frame, landing on the dress’ very deep slit. This time it was on the behind of your dress’ skirt.

You and the fucking slits. Making every piece of clothing look like it was designed specifically for you...

- Thank god moods are not contagious because this would be the saddest happy event ever, - Oscar’s hand landed on his friend’s shoulder, as he followed Pedro’s gaze down to where you were standing.

Pedro unintentionally moved to block you from his friend’s eyes which came as a surprise to both. It was very clear that Oscar had no negative or positive intentions regarding you so it was even more weird when Pedro felt small pang of jealousy when he saw the bottle of wine you had gifted Oscar for hosting the party.

Oscar raised his eyebrows, amused.

As if asking, really?

You, on the other hand, were doing everything to avoid Pedro that evening. He looked good. He looked so handsome even though he was one of the very few men here who had chosen to wear a sweater instead of a suit or a dress shirt. You definitely needed a distraction and given how it had ended with drinking last time you got drunk, you avoided alcohol like it was the plague, only drinking virgin cocktails.

The biggest problem with avoiding someone is that that person is living in your head rent free, in order for you to be where they are not. Which meant that before you avoid them in a room, you have to check specifically for them. The biggest support for you in this was the fact that Pedro seemed to avoid you as well, so it was quite easy to keep your distance.

- Is there a guest I’m not aware of? – Oscar humored lightly. – Or are you stalked by someone?

Only the ghost of your best friend.

You smiled, shook your head and asked a few questions about the movie to whose ending this function was dedicated to. After some time he excused himself and said to go look for his wife but before he left, Oscar casually threw out:

- I’m sorry things are weird between you and Pedro right now, - he seemed apologetic.

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

Pedro had clearly told him about what had happened.

It was already embarrassing enough for you to realize that Pedro had been sober that night and remembered every word your drunk self had confessed. And, to add insult to injury, the rejection still kinda stung. But he had clearly told everything to another man. And that one made you even more upset because you knew Oscar by reputation only but that reputation was quite good. So he probably felt sympathy for your little groupie act by asking out someone clearly out of your league.

You averted your eyes. How many other people knew?

- Look, he’s a grown ass man, he’ll be fine, - Oscar put his hand on your shoulder in a pacifying manner. – It’s just that this was his longest crush ever so it will take more time than usual...

Because you actively tried to block out his voice, the words didn’t register at first. And, once they did, they still didn’t make much sense.

- But it will-

- What did you just say?

Your tone was harsh and it made Oscar do a double-take.

- I... I’m not trying to pressure you into anything by what I said about being his longest crush, if that’s what you meant. I promise.

Your eyes searched his face for any signs of amusement or humor... or confusion. When you didn’t find any, you put down your drink and turned your full attention towards him.

- What did he tell you happened that night?

Oscar looked at you like you were a child asking to explain the alphabet.

- I’m not sure I should-

- He clearly told you something! – you raised your voice – not loud enough to be heard by everyone but enough to make some of the closest people turn heads.

Oscar nodded:

- All he told me was you figured out he liked you. And you don’t like him back, - Oscar used the tone he probably used with his kids. – And that’s fine. You have every r-

- What kind of fairy tale did he fed you? – your first thought was that Pedro had lied to his friend.

But why would he ever do that? What could he possibly get out of telling people you were the one who rejected him? Letting someone down wasn’t a crime and it didn’t make you a bad person.

- He rejected me! I straight up asked him out and he gave me the whole speech about there being men who would be oh so lucky to date me. And then he kept on friend-zoning me for a month just for funsies. Making sure I knew my place was with all the other people who worked for him!

When you turned to leave – and maybe give that free alcohol a shot or two – Oscar unceremoniously grabbed your upper arm and turned you back.

- That can’t be true, Y/N! You were the one drunk! Are you sure you remember everything okay?

You rolled your eyes, trying to pull your arm away.

- I was drunk, not stupid! I know rejection when I receive one!

Oscar’s grasp wasn’t hurting you or anything but it probably looked like you were fighting from afar, at this point.

- Look, Y/N, calm down, - he lowered his voice so other people wouldn’t hear a thing. – All he told me was that you had confessed liking someone you worked with, and-

- And who do you think that someone from work is, genius?

You could almost hear gears turning in Oscar’s head.

- So... When he said that you had asked if... When you were wondering if he would date you, it wasn’t because...

You waited.

- ... it wasn’t because you were insecure about nobody being interested in you?

- Why would I give a shit if other people were interested in me?

It was a good thing you were sober because it was taking a good amount of time to understand this even sober. Your eyes widened when you finally put the pieces together.

The way Pedro looked almost crushed when you had interrupted him to silence him in the car.

Please don’t. I respect you way too much and don’t want to start saying things I don’t mean while drunk.

Could he had mistaken it for rejection?

You silencing him out of respect so you didn’t have to tell him you didn’t want to date him? Did he thought that you were thinking his ego couldn’t handle being rejected by someone who was not rich or famous?

Shit.

You tried to find his pink sweater somewhere in the crowd. He couldn’t have gone home already, could he? You had relatively little knowledge of the layout of Oscar’s house so your best shot was to run into Pedro somewhere.

Your wish manifested a bit too literally, when you roughly rounded a corner and ran straight into someone.

Pedro’s fingers wrapped around your upper arm in the same manner Oscar’s hand had just mere seconds ago. Just to drive home the point of your attraction to him, a small shot of electricity shot through your arm whereas nothing even similar had happened when his friend had touched your arm.

- Careful, - he steadied you and then removed his hand.

When you looked up, you noticed that he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

You thought you had gotten over this awkwardness...

Guess not.

With music still sounding throughout the house, you looked around, grabbed the front of his sweater and pushed him into one of the many guest bedrooms here. Once you closed and locked the door, you turned towards Pedro who was looking a bit thrown out of the boat.

For one moment, nobody said anything. Then you pushed down the dress that had ridden up your thighs while you were frantically looking for him throughout the house, and stepped closer to him.

The height difference was always a turn on for you but right now it did nothing but annoy.

- Sit down, - you commanded.

He took a step back and sat down on the bed.

When he looked up at you, you realized that you probably shouldn’t have asked him to do that. Your foggy brain finally decided to give you back few of the memories missing from that night month ago.

When he had gently lowered you onto the bed and you had finally woken up just in time to see him drop down on his knees to take off your boots. Out of concern, he had looked up at you with a very similar expression as he was having right now. With his lids lowered, eyes dark and pupils dilated.

When his brows furrowed in confusion, unaware of your flashbacks, you snapped out of it.

- Why does Oscar think I rejected you in your car that night? – you demanded before you lost your courage.

Pedro looked away.

You had had a long day at work today and still most of your energy had went into dodging Pedro at every corner, trying to not even look at him, while simultaneously keeping an eye on him at all times to not accidentally get close. Your patience had worn out long before you got here.

You unceremoniously grabbed his chin and turned his head back towards you.

- Look, I’m sorry I told him, - Pedro raised his eyes to meet yours. – I needed to tell someone and you were avoiding me and refused to even look at me!

You shook your head and tried to step back before he grabbed your hand in both of his.

- I’m sorry.

- What are you even sorry for? – you ripped your hand from his. – For lying?

When all he did was stare up at your in confusion, you took a step back to keep some distance.

- Do you get pity points or something for act-

Pedro stood up and you lost any advantage you had due to height. When he advanced towards you and you still stepped back, he caught your wrist, refusing to let you leave.

- Stop running from me! – he demanded. – Talk to me!

Fine.

- Fine, - you still tugged on your arm and he still didn’t let go so at some point you had to give up on it and leave your hand in his grasp.

- Tell me why you were avoiding me for a month, - he used a painfully soft tone as if afraid you would run at the very first sign of confrontation.

You were silent for a moment, trying to find the right words to sound like a mature adult.

- I guess... – you sighed and decided to just get over it. – I was hurt that you weren’t interested in me when I asked you out that night after you picked me up. I was butt hurt and it wasn’t fair to you because you have ever-

You didn’t get to finish when he closed the small distance between you and pressed his lips against yours. You would’ve pulled back by surprise if not for Pedro’s hand cupping the back of you neck.

Your heart seemed to simultaneously skip a beat and stop altogether. After the initial shock, you slid your hand into Pedro’s hair and lightly pulled him back by it.

Amusement danced in his eyes with a light shake of his head.

- To think we could’ve done this weeks ago, - he laughed.

You felt a bit giddy inside, still not really comprehending every piece of this misunderstanding but, in your defense, it probably had been quite hard to catch any love signals that night when you were wasted.

- You want me to ask you out again? – you proposed.

- Nah, - he shook his head. - I’ll do the honors, - he cleared his throat. – You’re going on a date with me.

You cocked your head.

- Are you asking or telling?

- I assumed you were a sure thing, drunk words being sober thoughts and all that...

This felt a bit too good to be true but you weren’t going to question it. Once you both left the guest room, with Pedro’s hand still wrapped around yours, and turned the corner to return to the party, you found Oscar leaning against the wall in the hallway with a drink in his hand and an amused look in his eyes.

- No freaky business under my roof, - he gave his friend with a stern look. – That’s like the only rule I have.

Only when his eyes found your intervened hands, he chuckled under his breath.

- Love must be hard when you’re both idiots, huh?

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal #imagine #oscar isaac

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comicaurora · 10 months

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Have you seen the new Superman show on adult swim? Himbo Clark Kent rights

It's off to an extremely encouraging start! Thoughts under the cut!

I like how they portray Clark's super-strength and how comfortable he is flying and using super-speed. They really feel like innate characteristics of his body rather than powers he switches on and off - things he keeps toned down when people are watching, but things that are always present regardless. The number of times I've pulled a push door or shoved something that was stuck and thought "if I had super-strength I wouldn't get a Take Two on this because my hand would've gone straight through that" is clearly something the showrunners have also thought about. This Clark lives in a world of cardboard and physically cannot stop himself from putting his hand through it at least once a day.

There's a physicality to the way Clark takes hits that really communicates how little he feels them most of the time. Eyes open, mouth closed, immediately getting back into the fight after getting punched into a crater. This is stuff I also think about when I draw supernaturally tough characters in combat situations, and it's cool to see someone else doing it - especially since one of my very few complaints about the older DCAU is that Superman always took every hit like it was a fully incapacitating blow, which Worf'd him pretty constantly.

I also like that we have so far never seen Clark angry. We've seen him scared, flustered, disappointed - but not angry. Even in fights where he's taking serious hits, he's only motivated by wanting to protect and save people, even his opponents - he so far has never been motivated by a desire to destroy. That feels like very good writing for Superman.

It's currently a little unclear how exactly his powerset is scaling - it looks like the blue-eye-glow-and-suit-emblem thing is a legitimate powerup that lets him hit harder and recover faster than his normal baseline, but how exactly that works isn't clear yet - although that is very obviously going to be a plot point later, since they keep giving him little flashes of the story of Krypton's destruction and what shenanigans they were getting up to when it exploded.

On that note, Kryptonian tech has never looked or felt so otherworldly. I love the distorted electronic backward-voice choir they use exclusively for when Clark is on the ship. I love that hologram Jor-El can't speak English, but can clearly understand Clark - also this is the coolest Jor-El has ever looked. Some comics wax poetic about how Clark is an alien space god who only pretends to be human, but I like how this show is firmly putting Clark on the side of the audience with regards to how unsettling the "alien space god" vibes truly are. He can't understand the nature of the ship or the words of its holographic inhabitant, he's not really interested in what it means or where it came from - he just wants to know who he is, or rather who Superman should be. And I like that he concludes that Superman should be him - the heroics he was already doing, except this time on purpose. Superman should not be this spooky glowing alien god thing, even if that's the vibe we get from Krypton itself.

I like that the ship gave Superman his modern no-underpants-on-the-outside suit and Ma Kent was like "we can do better than that" and added the underpants back on.

I also like how much setup there is for future plot stuff that a DC-familiar audience can see coming. Clark hasn't used any of his vision-based powers yet, and it's possible he doesn't know they exist. No sign of Lex Luthor or Kryptonite yet, two problems we know will become more severe with time. We've already got Amanda Waller being stoically nefarious in the background. Young Hot Deathstroke is a hell of a design choice and I am Here For It.

I also appreciate how many little referential jokes are packed into the dialogue, ranging from the obvious "it's a bird it's a plane" to some hella deep pulls like Jimmy Olson's youtube channel.

And fundamentally I love how this show starts from the jump with the thesis that friendly, humble, Normal Man Clark is the real person, and Superman is the job that Clark Kent does. The title of the show is "My Adventures With Superman." The POV character is Clark. He is the "my" in that title. This is Clark's story about Superman.

I really, really hope Batman eventually shows up, because this Superman would make that hilarious.

#asks #not aurora #media recs

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i520u · 11 months

Text

impulsive thoughts ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

there’s a season 4??? omg i was just about to cancel my netflix subscription LOL also i didn’t proofread this so my bad if there are grammar or spelling errors i’m sooo sleepy rn but thank you for requesting! <3

ricky x gn!reader, fluff(?), enemies to lovers, one-shot

masterlist

request is open!

your heart was beating out of your chest as your uber finally stopped in front of the gates of your university. if it wasn’t for ricky shen and his idiots of a group of friends constantly being late last semester, your university would have never updated their policy of not giving attendance to any students who came to class later than 10 minutes within the scheduled lecture session.

“fuck.” you muttered under your breath as you started bolting to your campus. the large compound was not helping at all with you already being 5 minutes late. you wished you ran more in the mornings, or maybe went to the gym more often — why were you already out of breath?

as you continued running, even climbing 2 flights of stairs because the lifts were taking forever, you were quickly approaching a bunch of people ahead of you walking in a slow pace. “excuse me,” you said in a slightly loud voice, it worked for most of the part as most of the students moved out of the way — except for one.

of course it had to be him. nothing could ever get through his thick head it seemed. as a result of bumping into ricky, his phone fell out of his hands, followed by a loud thud that you swore the entire hallway could hear as the device hit the floor. “what the hell?” he mumbled as he looked behind him in complete shock.

his face distorted into what could only be described as disgust when he was met with the sight that unfolded before his eyes. you. “do you not watch where you’re going?” he asked, a lace of sarcasm was palpable in the tone of his voice. if you had more than 3 minutes before you were officially declared absent, you would’ve retorted back; but you didn’t.

rolling your eyes, you continued speed walking, thankful that you made to class in time. so did ricky, unfortunately. there wasn’t much seats left given that you were late which made you have no other choice but to sit together with ricky at the same table. you didn’t want to spare him any look as you know you’d die out of disgust for him, so your eyes wandered to his phone on the table.

it had a prominent crack across the screen, and you were almost 100% sure you caused that. you pressed your lips together, a pang of guilt suddenly washing over you the longer you stared at his phone. you knew he could easily afford a new one, but you were a bigger person than him, and you acknowledge your mistake unlike him.

but at the same time, you did not want to apologise to him. not because he doesn’t deserve it — you just don’t want people thinking you’re friends with him if they saw the two of you talking.

you didn’t hate him at first, but seeing the way he acted at the beginning of the year was enough reason for you to hate him — and the fact that he’s just never had anything nice to say to you amplified your hatred even more.

letting out a soft sigh, you muster up all the courage to apologise to him, because once again you are a bigger person than he’ll ever be, and you admit to your mistakes. your hand reached out to his, gently tapping it to get his attention.

ricky’s eyes darted to the side when he felt your touch, he was almost taken aback. if he gave it a thought, this was the first time the two of you had ever had any kind of physical contact. he gave you a slight head tilt, motioning you to explain why you wanted his attention in the first place.

upon seeing the way he reacted to you trying to call him, you fought back the urge to roll your eyes at how brazen he was. “sorry for breaking the screen of your phone.” you pointed, your voice sounded sincere to him. ricky almost scoffed at your apology, though. were you actually apologising? over something so small? he wasn’t even holding it against you, since his phone has had that crack since over a month now.

he was going to explain to you that you weren’t the one that caused the cracked screen — but an evil idea had popped into his mind right before he could say anything nice. it was like he was physically incapable of being nice for any longer than 3 seconds.

a smirk started to form on his face as he looked you in the eyes, which almost made you back away from him completely. if you were not in the middle of apologising, you would’ve definitely said something smart-assy to him by now.

you gave him a weird look as he narrowed his eyes, “are you really though? sorry?” he asked, leaning his face closer to you. you had to look around the class for a quick second to make sure that you weren’t actually the only one in the class, and that this was actually happening to you. you leaned into your chair to back away from him, nodding your head as you do so, “i–i am…?” what was intended to be a statement turned into a question instead.

hearing the uncertainty in your voice gave ricky more leeway to tease you, “you sound unsure yourself,” his face was smug as he leaned back, finally giving you room to breathe normally. “can you just accept my apology like a normal person?” you retorted, you physically couldn’t stop yourself from saying something snarky to him as he had successfully gotten on your nerve with the sudden invasion of privacy he just did.

his head immediately turned to look at you, almost shocked that you had said something rude not a minute after apologising to him. a part of him wanted to laugh too, you were making his job way too easy.

he shrugged as his gaze returned to the powerpoint slideshow your professor had opened up. “seems like you’re not actually sorry,” he paused, raising his phone to your eye level. “this isn’t cheap to fix, you know.” he finished, another sly smile forming on his lips.

“god, what do you want me to do then?” you scoffed, not actually meaning what you had just said. ricky held back a laugh, “if you were really sorry, you’d let me kiss you,” he didn’t actually mean it, though. he just wanted to see you flustered and embarrassed. his gaze once again diverted to you so he could catch a glimpse of your reaction.

your eyes were wide as you tried to process what he had just said, and if you had actually heard it correctly. but he said it loud and clear — there was no way you heard it wrong. “are you serious?” you asked in disbelief. ricky nodded, winking at you afterwards. “ricky, fuck you.” you bursted, rolling your eyes at his demeanour.

“would you, though?” he continued, his annoying smile only widened. “you’re so annoying.” you added, hoping one of your words would at least make him stop talking to you. you weren’t even sure why you were still entertaining him. ricky leaned closer to you once more, “and you’re not actually sorry, because if you were, you’d do as i ask.” he whispered, a soft chuckle following him at the end of the sentence.

your professor, all the way at the front, all of a sudden had shut the lights off inside the auditorium. he was telling the class of a 10-minute tutorial video he was about to show for everyone to see.

an idea popped into your mind at that very moment, seeing it as an opportunity. it wasn’t like anyone was gonna see the two of you in the big, and dark auditorium — and ricky was already inches away from your face. you decided to let your impulsive thoughts win this time — and for a good reason! you convinced yourself

swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you quickly grabbed ricky’s face — not giving it much thought if you were being harsh. ricky’s eyes were still adjusting to the dark when you suddenly started tightly grabbing his face. the next thing he knew, he could feel the warmth of your breath on his lips.

you could somehow smell ricky’s breath — it was sweet, contrary to his characteristics of a complete degenerate. his lips were soft, and he almost immediately kissed you back. you expected nothing less from someone like him, of course he was an extremely good kisser.

before you got carried away, you immediately broke off the kiss. you tried your hardest to look tough, glaring at him although you weren’t really sure if he could see you. “now stop bothering me.” you warned him. your eyes finally diverting to the big screen in front of you.

ricky wanted to say something to annoy you, but he was genuinely too stunned to form any sort of coherent words. for the first time in his life, he decided to stay quiet. he was completely shocked that you would actually kiss him, without giving it a second though or whatever.

and he was taken aback by how good you were at kissing, it almost made him want to kiss you again. but you hated him, so he couldn’t do that. his heart was banging in his chest, he could physically hear it. but he wasn’t supposed to feel this way? you hate him. and he likes making you find more things to hate about him.

he turned to look at you again, to make sure the kiss had actually happened. to his surprise, you were also stealing glances from him. the two of you immediately looked away, eyes widened at the awkward eye contact. what just happened?

#zb1 au #zb1 ricky #zb1 x reader #ricky au #ricky scenarios #ricky shen #ricky x reader #shen ricky #ricky #shen quanrui #quanrui #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 scenarios #zb1 imagines #ricky fluff #zb1 ricky imagines #zb1 ricky au #ricky shen fluff

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