When Dostoevsky said, "Pain changes you, but it teaches. That is its mercy." but Kafka said, "Pain changes nothing. It just repeats itself until you forget who you were before it started."
I feel weird connection between song Brutus by The Buttress and EuroVarg ship dynamics.
It's as if this song partly describes the feelings he might have felt when killing Øystein. Admiration, rejection, hatred, resentment, the pain of betrayal that occurred only in his head — and now he is already stabbing Øystein in a rage.
I imagine Varg clutching his own throat with his fingers out of anger, spewing out streams of obscenities mixed with words of love on the eve of the night of the murder. He loves Øystein so much that he hates it — and these two feelings are intertwined in him, forming a malignant tumor of rage in his heart. He cannot, does not want to let go of the memory of this pathetic failed relationship, and he is not ready to let go of someone who did not reciprocate his feelings.
When everything happens and he stands over the bloody body, the rage and pain that he put into each blow gradually subside, and realization comes. Varg will justify himself, find the strength to go on with his head held high — but he will always remember how he chased someone down the stairs whom he loved so much that he was ready to kill.
P.S: Since this is my first blog post on this topic, let me make it clear: I see their dynamics as sick and mostly one-sided. Varg has vivid tendencies of an anxious type of attachment in my perception. To put it simply, he is, in my opinion, a yandere. Therefore, what I write here will contain moments of insane love and hate in one bottle. You have been warned. I won't include a disclaimer in the following posts, so keep in mind: I'm describing unhealthy relationships, but I'm not really promoting them. I hope everyone understands this. Thank you for reading this text.
What draws me to Egon Schiele's self-portraits is that they almost perfectly capture the disconnect, the struggle for liberation between the body and the soul (or the self?). He masterfully depicts the distorted chaos that arises when the body fights for dominance over the self, while the soul tries to claw its way out of the flesh.
This rupture between body and self doesn't feel like just a stylistic choice — it feels existential. The figure is emaciated, twisted, often staring directly at us with unsettling awareness. It is hyper-aware of its own skin, its own edges, as if trying to understand or escape the limits of its form. The body is no longer a sanctuary but a cage. The soul is no longer a resident but a renegade. Muscles don’t relax; they contract, grip and resist. The hands claw or tremble. The spines bend unnaturally. The eyes accuse, plead and surrender.
It seems as if Schiele didn't just paint himself — he painted the experience of being himself. Of inhabiting a body that often refuses to cooperate with the self’s desires. His self-portraits seem like moments frozen in the act of becoming or unbecoming.
Sylvia Plath (Leon Dabo), Edna St. Vincent Millay, E. E. Cummings, Naguib Mahfouz (Edgar Degas), E. E. Cummings (Édouard Manet), Rabindranath Tagore, T. S. Eliot (Edgar Degas), F. Scott Fitzgerald (Alphonse Osbert)
Just some little headcanons on what it would be like to hug the boys (+Charles) when you're having a rough time.
Hugging Charles is…
Warm. There’s a lot of things in this world Charles can fix… and many that he can’t, loathe as he is to admit it. It’s what he does, after all. He makes things right. So when the world is crashing down upon you, it pains him beyond belief to know that he can’t just fix what ails you. But little does he know, he still lightens the burden just by being him. You’d think him stiff and unsure, but after so long of knowing you, the comfort seems to come easier. He’s good at giving advice when needed, but it’s nothing compared to the way he holds you — firm yet soothing as he runs his hand comfortingly along your upper arm, before kneading tender circles into your shoulder. Stable. Steady. Even when things look bleak, he exudes such a warm, patient presence that, even if only for the moment, makes things more bearable.
Hugging Nathan is…
Safe. He doesn’t give hugs often, but when he does, he does a good job at making you feel protected. From the world. From yourself. From all the suffocating black clouds of fear and anxiety that threaten to choke you, and leave you dead where you stand. He doesn’t really know how to talk you through whatever it is that you’re struggling with, but that’s okay — sometimes the silence is better, anyways. Strong arms wrapped around your form like a shield against that all that plagues you, steady heartbeat beneath your head narrowing your thoughts onto that singular sound… He wishes he could make things better for you with a wave of his hand, but not all problems are so easy. Until then, this is enough.
Hugging Pickles is…
Familiar. You’ve spent so many days and nights in each others’ embrace that when things get rough, you hardly even have to ask. There’s an odd thing that comes with grief — the constant well-wishes and special treatment, which appreciated in some respects, sometimes just makes things feel… worse. Alienating. A perpetual reminder that things aren’t what they should be, right now. But Pickles is different. You can talk about it if you want to, sure, but if you don’t? He can just hold you for now — content to simply be with you, unwavering in his place in your life. The familiarity of it helps detract a bit from the aching reminder of the unfamilar. If you want him to hold you tighter, or talk, or shut up… just say the word. He’s there for you.
Hugging Skwisgaar is…
Feeling seen. Skwisgaar struggles with a lot of things in this realm — giving affection, receiving affection, talking about fears and pain and sadness… so frankly, he doesn’t. Not unless it’s you — by you, for you. He’s all gangly limbs and simmering insecurity, but for you, he tries. So when he pulls you to his chest, long arms curled around your middle as he rubs tender circles against your skin, you know he’s truly, truly there for you. Not out of obligation, or as a half-assed attempt at placating you — He would never push himself so far out of his comfort zone if he didn’t truly want to help lighten your burden. When he hums little affirmations, you know he’s actually listening: He may not know exactly what to say, but he makes you feel heard. Seen. He may not have all of the solutions to what you’re going through, but the simple fact that he’s here, unwavering in his love even when he doesn’t know just how to express it, is enough.
Hugging Toki is…
Secure. Toki is no stranger to affection, but when you really need it, he pours every ounce of love he can into the gesture. Sometimes you forget how strong he is — in every sense of the word, really — until you’re pressed against him like his. Hugging Toki has always made you feel safe, but in times like this, he makes you feel secure, too. Secure in the way of knowing that the horrors of the world aren’t going to keep you down forever. Secure in the way of knowing that you’re not going to go through this alone. Do you want to talk about it? He’ll listen to every word you have to say, chiming in when he can, and placing little kisses to your temple when he can’t. His mustache presses against your skin so familiarly when he does, and it’s then that you know that you won’t have to go through this alone.
Hugging William is…
A promise. There’s a lot of things William missed out on in life — chiefly that of comfort. So in some respects, you’d think he’d be unsure of how to give it — and perhaps that isn’t entirely inaccurate. But he dreamt often of such gestures, a sort of guilty pleasure if you will… so while he might not be certain of the perfect way to help, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he pours every ounce of love that he can into the gesture when you need it the most. And oh, does it ever show — he drops his voice into a half-whisper as he whispers little affirmations, of how it’ll be okay, how you’re going to get through this, how you’re not alone. And anyone could say these things, sure, but from him? They sound like they really could be true — not generic nothings, but actual promises. And with how close he holds you, how warmly he speaks, how much physical warmth he seems to exude… you start to believe him.
Hi! I wanted to request a TH/fem reader and RZMM/fem reader
Maybe like a how would they show possessiveness over someone? A little angsty bc they're big guys and they would definitely manhandle their so in the heat of the moment
How Thomas Hewitt and RZ!Michael Myers Show Possessiveness Over You
A/N: Anon, thank you so much for my first slasher request! I love these boys so much and wanted to delve into their intentions behind their protectiveness a little, cause I think it would be very different for both. This is my first time writing a headcanon, I hope I've done you proud. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌
Thomas Hewitt
→ Thomas's struggle with social norms makes his possessiveness glaringly apparent. He perceives everyone outside the family as a potential threat to his happiness, particularly when it concerns you. His demeanour shifts abruptly at the slightest hint of danger; his typically measured movements become swift and aggressive. Despite his efforts to restrain his emotions in public, such as at the Cele Community Centre where you and his mother work, Thomas often finds himself instinctively drawn to your side. His hand firmly grasps the fabric of your shirt, his protective stance evident to anyone who dares to look at you. His gaze sweeps the surroundings with a discerning eye, meticulously assessing each customer until you gently remove his grip and convince him to wait in the back.
→ Thomas's overprotectiveness occasionally acts as a double-edged sword, simultaneously shielding you from harm while subtly restricting your freedom. As a man of few words, he struggles to articulate the depth of his need to keep you safe, resulting in actions that may be misinterpreted as possessiveness rather than genuine concern or fear of losing you. He means well, but it can feel suffocating.
→ Preferring to keep you within his line of sight whenever possible, Thomas's protective instincts often clash with the demands of daily life, leading to occasional conflicts with Charlie over the use of his time. The older man's frustration with what he perceives as your bad influence over Thomas' attention to his work further exacerbates tensions within the household.
→ Certain areas of the house are off limits to you. The basement serves as a sanctuary for Thomas's work, and he is adamant that you are shielded from the horrors that happen inside. However, he still insists on your presence nearby, perched on the steps that lead down to the space or listening to the radio in the dining room upstairs. Your proximity seems to offer him a sense of security and focus, enabling him to delve into his his task with unwavering concentration and produce some of his best work.
→ Thomas finds solace in words of affirmation and constantly seeks reassurance from you. Despite the intimacy you share and the countless times you've assured him otherwise, he harbours an unshakeable fear that if he loosens his grip even for a moment, you might slip away from him. This nagging insecurity gnaws at him, overshadowing moments of connection, leaving him perpetually haunted by the possibility of losing you.
→ Physical gestures become one your languages of reassurance. You hold his hand tightly, intertwining your fingers as a silent promise that you're there for him. Running your fingers through his hair as he nuzzles into you becomes a comforting ritual, soothing both him and you. Your touch on his chest, just over his heart, keeps his anxieties at bay.
→ Words also become a source of comfort for Thomas. You express your pride in him, highlighting his strengths and the ways he makes your life better. You tell him how happy you are to have him by your side, emphasizing that he's not just your protector but also your partner. Sometimes, the simplest affirmations have the greatest impact on Thomas. Hearing you call him "yours" fills him with a sense of belonging and purpose, and when you tell him that he's been good, he can't help but prove just how good he can be by filling you with his fingers, tongue or cock.
→ Thomas feels most valued when you grant him your undivided attention and allow him to reciprocate. He revels in spending hours between your legs, skilfully coaxing orgasm after orgasm from your willing body until you're left a whimpering, trembling mess beneath him. Despite his efforts to maintain control in your relationship, you always seem to hold the upper hand, which is why he finds solace in reducing you to a thoroughly fucked-out state on his bed. In those moments, with your mind blissfully empty and your body consumed by a primal hunger for his touch, he feels a sense of power and satisfaction unlike any other.
→ Despite this, the mounting tensions within the household, particularly with Charlie, often leave Thomas grappling with pent-up aggression. As the demands on his time intensify, with Charlie clamouring for more of Thomas's attention and you taking on additional shifts at the community centre to assist his mother, Thomas finds it increasingly challenging to maintain his composure.
→ You've become attuned to the subtle shifts in his demeanour, recognizing the tell-tale signs when he's received a stern tongue lashing from his uncle or had a particularly taxing session in the basement. Thomas' simmering rage begins to permeate his interactions with you. His touch, once tender and reassuring, now carries an undercurrent of tension. The few words he mutters in your presence are laced with frustration and discontent, rather than devotion.
→ Despite your best efforts to sooth him, there are moments when Thomas's volatile emotions threaten to overwhelm him. In those instances, you find yourself walking on eggshells, navigating the precarious balance between offering solace and inadvertently stoking the flames of his anger. You are never fearful of Thomas, but these are the times when you remove yourself from his presence when possible. That is, until you learn that the best way to calm him during these storms is with your body.
→ Thomas's heavy-handed nature becomes even more pronounced during these moments of heightened emotion. He handles you with a forcefulness that borders on brutality, moulding and contorting your body into painful positions that elicit tears of discomfort. While he typically refrains from spanking you unless requested, in these instances, his large hand comes crashing down upon your flesh with punishing force, leaving behind welts and bruises that you carry for days. Unlike his usual attentiveness to your pleasure, Thomas's focus shifts solely towards finding an outlet for his frustration, using your body as a means to an end in his quest for release. He bites, scratches, and fucks every inch of you with an almost desperate intensity, seeking solace in the physical connection between you.
→ Yet, there are fleeting moments of clarity when the clouds in his eyes dissipate, and the gentle giant you know and love re-emerges. It's in these moments of vulnerability that you offer him comfort, reassuring him that he can take what he needs from you, and that you will still love him.
→ After the intensity of the moment subsides, Thomas retreats into the solitude of the basement, locking himself away as a form of self-imposed punishment for his mistreatment of you. Despite your efforts to coax him out, reassuring him of your well-being and offering comfort, he remains secluded until he feels ready to face you once more. When Thomas finally does emerge, you're quick to envelop him in the warmth of your affection and reassurance. With a soft kiss to his leather-clad cheek, you convey your unwavering support and understanding, letting him know that you harbour no resentment towards him.
→ In the aftermath of the encounter, Thomas's protective instincts kick into overdrive as he tends to any wounds that adorn your body, his touch gentle yet purposeful. It's in these moments that his true nature shines through—he may be heavy-handed and prone to bouts of aggression, but above all else, he possesses a deep-seated desire to care for and protect you, to make amends for any harm he may have caused.
RZ!Michael Myers
→ Michael's possessive nature over you begins with an intense and inexplicable fixation. From the moment his eyes land on you, something primal within him snaps, and he becomes singularly obsessed with making you his own.
→ He can't quite explain what draws him to the Red Rabbit Lounge that evening, but as he leans against the wall, trying to catch his breath after a harrowing escape from Smith's Grove, he is immediately captivated when you emerge from the back door. Unlike others who shrink away from him in fear, you meet his gaze with a calm demeanour, lighting your cigarette and casually pointing out his papier-mâché mask. Your nonchalant remark about liking the orange because it reminds you of your favourite holiday only adds to the intrigue, sparking something deep within Michael's psyche.
→ Following that initial encounter, Michael becomes an omnipresent presence in your life, a shadow that lingers at the edges of your awareness. You sense him in the periphery of your vision, catch glimpses of his shadow darting past windows, and hear the faintest rustle of his breath in the stillness of the night. He becomes your unseen companion, meticulously observing your every move. He studies your routines and habits, committing them to memory with an almost obsessive attention to detail. Always one step ahead, he waits patiently until the opportune moment presents itself to make his presence truly known.
→ Michael finds immense pleasure in the exhilarating pursuit of you, convinced that you share in his enjoyment of the chase. He keenly observes the subtle signs of your awareness, noticing the wry smirk that graces your lips when you sense his presence nearby. In those moments, he imagines feeling the same giddiness that surges through you when he lightly brushes your hair, a fleeting touch that leaves you yearning for more, even as it vanishes before you can turn around. The first time you called out to him, he battled against every instinct urging him to step out from the shadows and claim you as his own. Despite the overwhelming desire possess you, he restrains himself, savouring the anticipation of the inevitable moment when he would finally make his move.
→ In Michael's twisted psyche, you are more than just a person; you are a coveted prize that he will protect at all costs. He perceives himself as the sole rightful owner of your being, and he harbours an intense fixation on claiming you as his own.
→ As the regular patrons of the lounge mysteriously vanish one by one, leaving a bewildered community in their wake, Michael remains a silent observer, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon you. He knows all too well the allure of your presence, the captivating dance you perform for these men, reminiscent of the performances his late mother once gave. Yet, while others may see you as an entertainer, Michael sees something far deeper—a connection, a possession, a symbol of his ultimate dominance that he must preserve.
→ From the shadows, he watches as you bare your body to these patrons. To Michael, it doesn't matter whether you are aware of his claim over you; what matters is that he sees you as his, and he will go to any lengths to ensure that no one dares to challenge him. In his mind, you are his alone, and he will stop at nothing to secure what he believes is rightfully his.
→ When Michael finally decides to collect his prize, it's in the eerie stillness of the night. He patiently waits in the shadows of your home, a silent sentinel standing rigidly in the corner of your bedroom as he observes your every move. You can feel his presence, an unspoken acknowledgment that he has come to stake his claim on his property.
→ As you undress, acutely aware of his watchful gaze, a shiver runs down your spine. There's a palpable tension in the air, a sense of anticipation mingled with apprehension. Yet, despite the unease that courses through you, there's also a strange allure, a primal instinct drawing you inexorably towards him. When you finally coax him from the shadows, he engulfs you in his arms with a ferocity that takes your breath away. The force of his embrace is suffocating, his touch demanding as he grasps and claws at every part of your body. In that moment, there's no denying the intensity of his desire, the need to make you his own consuming him entirely.
→ Michael is not gentle with you; he doesn't hold back his deep urges to possess you completely. He revels in your whimpers and the screams of his name as he stretches you open and takes what he deems rightfully his. His touch is rough, unyielding, as if trying to merge your bodies into one. Each movement is driven by a fierce need to mark you, to ensure you understand that you belong to him and no one else. Every night with Michael is filled with a mix of pain and pleasure. His eyes intense and unwavering, remain locked on you, drinking in every reaction, every cry. To him, this is the final step in owning you, the ultimate act of protecting what is his.
→ Removing the mask takes time. It's one evening, after the intensity of your shared orgasms have ebbed, and Michael lies heavy on top of you. Your fingers tentatively trace the edges of the white rubber mask, sensing his body tense beneath your touch. His hand instinctively reaches out, grasping your wrist to halt your movement, but your lips find solace in the warmth of his knuckles as you plant a gentle kiss, your breath whispering a desire to see him. For a fleeting moment, there's resistance, a hesitancy borne from years of concealing his true self, before he lets you unmask him. His long hair cascades over your face as the mask falls away, revealing the man beneath. In that vulnerable moment, you stroke his sweat-glistened cheek, your fingers tracing the contours of his features as you call him "handsome", perhaps the first time he's heard the word since his mother.
→ Despite Michael's disapproval of your continued work at the lounge, you are unwilling to relinquish your independence completely. He grumbles and fumes when things don't go his way, but deep down, he appreciates your defiance, feels a strange allure in your willingness to challenge him. Although his overly protective nature remains, he secretly enjoys the way you push back against his control, finding a strange sense of satisfaction in the game of give and take between you. A hand on his chest or a kiss along his strong jawline is all it takes for him to soften, his resolve melting under the warmth of your affection. You eventually compromise, only working certain shifts and allowing him to escort you home. As if you really have a choice on the matter. Michael finds your attempts at negotiation endearing.
→ If anyone dares to come between Michael and what is his, he reacts with violent outbursts of rage. His attacks are brutal and merciless, driven by a primal need to assert his dominance and protect you. Unfortunately, you are also not exempt from his aggression, and when he catches sight of you one night, engaged in conversation with a stranger outside the back of the lounge during your smoke break, he snaps. In a frenzy of fury, he swiftly disposes of the man, his actions marked by a sickening crunch of bones as his body is hurled against the brick wall. Then, turning his attention to you, Michael's muscles coil with tension and his chest heaves with barely-contained anger. Gripping your arms so fiercely that bruises bloom in their wake, he shoves you against the wall, once, then again, as if attempting to jolt some some sense into you.
→ With swift determination, Michael hoists you over his shoulder and retreats into the shadows, his purposeful strides carrying you home. But the journey doesn't lead to the bedroom; instead, he deposits you onto the stairs with a roughness that steals your breath. There, in the dim light, he strips away the remnants of your clothing, his actions forceful and unyielding. Again and again, he fucks into you with a ferocity that leaves you screaming his name, your pleas mingling with the echoes of both passion and pain. In those moments, as his protectiveness gives way to possession and consumes you, you find yourself uttering the words he craves to hear—that you are his, and his alone.
→ Yet, even amidst the ecstasy, a shadow of uncertainty looms. You can never be certain that Michael wouldn't cross that final line, that his compulsion wouldn't drive him to take everything from you, including your life. For Michael, protection is not just about control—it's about ownership to the point of obsession. If he can't have you, no one else can either.
bruh i have this REALLY huge idea, i really want to animate it but i have little 2 no experience with animation (i can draw tho thats like the least i can do) and i watched the S2 Glitchtale series and it gave me such a huge inspiration for something!!! (warning this post is *very* long)
so the seven ninja swordsmen weren't always ruthless, matter of fact, they were never ruthless, they were only trying to protect kirigakure from enemies, the reason why it started was because during the 1st mizukage's reign there was a huge human trafficking rumor going around which turned out to be true, enemy villages were kidnapping children from kiri & the seven ninja swordsman was formed, throughtout the years the seven ninja swordsman were labled as this ruthless group of people who killed just because they wanted to & that wasn't the case.
the swords have a mind of their own much like samehada and in most cases the blade's souls would take over their weilder and have them do ruthless & heartless shit.
the last generation (y'know ameyuri ringo mangetsu hozuki and those guys) were the best at keeping a distance between the swords souls & themselves, making them the strongest generation ever, but, why were they so ruthless during the 4th great ninja war?
kabuto had the help of a friend who terroized many of the last generation when they were younger (especially kushimaru for one sole reason: his power), and had extracted their original souls in replacement of the blade's souls.
during their lifetime, they were all branded as ruthless, heartless, coldblooded thugs outside of the village, but in kiri, they were known as heros, loving, and protective over their village, the fourth mizukage was not always ruthless, when obito had placed him under genjutsu and controlled him, thats when the "bloody mist era" began.
ameyuri ringo worked as a scientist alongside her lover, ace (an oc of mine :3) and specialized in lightning style which she had no effort in, her mother & father, alongside her elder brother had died around the end of the 2nd shinobi war, now homeless without a family, she was adopted and raised by them, a pretty decent childhood, she was playful & confident, can get a bit too overconfident at times but still, she was loved by everyone around her, ameyuri eventually met ace, and the two of them fell in love, as they were scientists, the two were responsible for the electricity in the mist, ameyuri was then drafted to fight in the third great ninja war, killing over 100 chunin and 50 jonin after kiba, her blade, had taken over her soul completely, ameyuri knew how to control kiba's soul, but kiba found other ways to take over ameyuri, eventually with the help of ace & kushimaru, ameyuri was finally feeling better, but was fatally ill, and soon, passed.
kushimaru kuriarare, being apart of this clan as the most strongest of all, despite having ptsd & major anxiety, still tried his best to make his life better after his traumatizing childhood, his clan was slaughtered at the hands of a shimogakure shinobi named mujōna which will later then start the war between kirigakure and shimogakure, in haunt for his soul, as it possessed an inhumane amount of dark chakra passed down by his mother, mujōna had created a sensei for him, which in turn had abused him constantly, his sensei and mujōna worked together to "power" him, having him tied down being bit by venomous spiders which gave him a huge amount of arachnophobia later, over the years he was staying with jinpachi's parents, and the two future swordsmen will later become like brothers, the two moved in together and kushimaru then later had a child out of wedlock which turned him into a single father, with the help of jinpachi, the two of them worked together to raise the child (don't judge me this is my favorite ship) in a household where there is no conflict & hatred. the third great ninja war had started and kushimaru was on the battlefield, while fighting might dai who was in his 8th gate form, kushimaru had a dark chakra sealed inside of him, whilst loosing control and also loosing control over nuibari's soul, inserting inside of kushimaru's body, he became a monster and killed everyone in his path, including jinpachi & jinin were were also fighting against might dai, kushimaru survived but was terribly injured, and for the rest of his life spent in a hospital bed, dying peacefully.
jinin akebino was known as a hero fighting in the 2nd shinobi war as a teen, deadly on the battlefield and showed no mercy, never letting kabutowari's soul take over him, a brave young man with a heart of steel. after the war had ended, he decided to settle down and become an academy teacher for a short period, while also taking care of his son & sick wife who was fatally ill with lung cancer, after his wife had died, he was now a single father taking care of his now 13 year old son, training him to become like him someday, his son grew older and eventually moved a new path, jinin now teaches young chunin how to control their jutsus and looks after the other swordsman on his team, the third great ninja war starts & jinin is fighting against might dai, noticing one of his teammates lost control of his soul in the process, being killed before might dai even makes a move on him
mangetsu was raised by the sea alongside his younger brother, the goddess of the sea had taken the young boys as her own after their parents had died in the 2nd war, they were then trained to fight to become one of the seven ninja swordsman, suigetsu had accidentally let his blade's soul take over his body, which had stayed attatched to him for the majority of his life, mangetsu on the other hand, had learned how to control his emotions and not let the sword's soul take over him, but mangetsu wasn't satisfied, he wanted to weild all 7 blades, in which he almost died while doing so, since the last person who wanted to weild all 7 swords had died in the process, while he tried to use shibuki, it would blow up out of nowhere, even when he wasn't even using it to train or fight, nuibari's wire would cut him deep & the other swords would even try to attack him on his own, hiramekarei (well, one half) was the only sword that didn't have an evil soul, which he kept by his side, eventually he got the ability to weild all 7 swords which also in the end, costed him his life.
[ im thinking of more headcanons soon so this is part 1 for now. ]
— Viktor was born on September 2 (by the way, on this day the Viktor Orthodox name day) in the family of street thug Jan and artist Esther. He looked like his fragile, dark-haired mother, but he did not inherit his character from any of his parents. After all, personality, with the exception of qualities determined by innate aspects of the psyche, is not inherited, and the similarity of the child's character with the parent is achieved by upbringing — and Viktor hardly remembers his mother and father. They died when he was three years old: both died at the hands of a chemical baron, to whom Jan crossed the road.
— Viktor was raised more by himself and less by his grandmother, Khava. Cold, stingy with emotions, she provided him with everything he needed, but she could hardly do more. She didn't love him or her dead daughter. All that remained for Viktor was to come home on time (which he coped with, because of the congenital problems with his leg he would not be able to walk for a long time) and not get into trouble (which he also coped with).
— He spent his childhood reading and playing with abandoned machinery. He did not play with other children, as if feeling in his gut that he would not be accepted, and communicating with books completely suited him.
— The only time Viktor tried to be friends with another child turned out to be extremely ridiculous and unpleasant for the little genius. His friend, Anhalt, was several years older than him, and one day, apparently deciding to amuse his ego, he pushed nine-year-old Viktor off the roof of the second floor. Having badly bruised his knee, he finally lost faith that at least someone needed him.
— Viktor came to Piltover at the age of fourteen. One day he decided to cross the bridge, and since this happened before the situation on the Piltover—Zaun border worsened, he managed to cross the bridge. To do this, he had to strip down to his underpants at the security checkpoint and wait three hours for his books and notebooks to be checked by the police, but eventually he was allowed to live in this huge city.
— At first, Viktor earned his living by distributing newspapers. He lived in a rented closet on the ground floor of an apartment building owned by a certain Roysmann, smoked the worst cigarettes he could find in Piltover, and suffered from constant insomnia. The neighbors upstairs, noisy second-hand dealers, considered it their duty to shout over his head. Victor had to fight with the fat owner's cat for a workplace: this shaggy bastard occupied the only table in the corridor entirely, and he was mostly afraid not of the shouts of an irritated Viktor, but of the broom with which he drove him from his place. The second floor always smelled of burnt pork fat and dog urine. He didn't want to live here at all, but it was also pernicious to return to Zaun: Viktor was so exhausted by his native slums that he no longer even wanted to think about them.
— If Heimerdinger hadn't noticed the genius who came to the academy to listen to lectures on mechanical engineering and higher mathematics, Viktor would hardly have gotten a higher education with the same ease. The dean was delighted with the abilities of the young talent, and Viktor, having passed only three exams, became part of the first-year students at the age of sixteen. After completing his bachelor's degree, he entered the master's program at the age of eighteen, and then, at just twenty, defended his PhD. The star of his pure mind burned so swiftly and brightly that other students, looking at him, whispered: "genius.".. It's just a pity that Viktor paid for his genius with his personal life, socialization and health.
— Viktor despises the concept of talent and genius. He recognizes his uniqueness, but only because he gets out of the statistics — and he considers this discrepancy to be the result of hard work on himself and the result of his cold temperament.
"Everything is achieved only through hard work and effort."
— Viktor has never had romantic feelings in his life. More precisely, they undoubtedly were — but every time he began to like someone too much, he stifled all signs of affection. He loves humanity, but not anyone in particular. It cannot be otherwise.
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