#i am in the bottom part of a spiral and i do not like where this is going

[captain-oh-no-not-again]

so. coffee is tasty. but it also makes me fear for my life.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What a Mess 3

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: thick!Bucky Barnes

Summary: Your new job isn’t all that you expect. (maid AU – short!reader)

Note: hate me, baby.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You're a little less addled as you enter the condo that day. You have a soft playlist going as you carry your kit through and roll in the vacuum. The sunlight beams large rectangles across the hardwood as the shadows of the frames skew between. The air is still and as placid as the melody in your ears. 

The list guides you. Even as you could recite it by rote. You can never be too careful. You turn the corner into the living room, the TV glaring blue across the space.  

You round the couch to grab the remote. Strange, the coffee table is pushed back. Your toe brushes something on the floor and you stop short. 

You look down at the body on the floor. 

Concern ripples up your spine and swells in your throat. Is Bucky okay? His shoulders curl forward as he hugs a pillow, legs bent under the thin throw blanket usually folded over the back of the couch. It's only his low snores that assure you he didn't collapse there. 

You sway above him. Even as he lays on the floor, you feel tiny. Should you wake him? You glance up at the television and decide better of it. You've been a part of a similar tableau. Sleepless nights are often a battle, especially alone. 

You shut off the TV and retreat. You'll wait to do the front room. You look up the spiral staircase. The metals too noisy. What can you do that won't disturb him? 

You turn off your earbud and put it away. You'll have to be careful of everything you do. The silence is dense. You don't often let it pervade your life. You always have something going; music, a show, an audio book... anything to keep you from drifting. 

You start small, wiping down the cupboards with a dust cloth. There isn't much to catch but one day can make the difference. 

There's still no step stool. You make sure he isn't around when you lift yourself up on the counter and work on your knees. You should ask but you also hate to be demanding. 

Despite the odd circumstance, it's calm. You stay alert as you work through the lost, out of order, but you do what you can. 

Will he wake up soon? You hear a groan followed by a murmur. You can't understand it. You turn the faucet on, keeping the stream slow, and wash up the few dishes left near the sink. The smell of the citrus dish soap wafts in the air. As do his snores. 

The snorting rhythm reassures you. They don't stop even as you chance your ascent upstairs. You use the small hand broom on the steps. You find that's easier. Slowly you make your way down until a metallic chink startles you. 

You turn on the steps as Bucky squints sleepily at you. He wears a pair of briefs, his shoulders draped in the throw blankets, as his thick hair hangs in puffy tangles. He rubs his chest, scratching there as you avoid looking below his groggy face. 

You push yourself against the narrow railing as he grips the bottom. You do your best to make room for him to pass. 

"Time?" He asks. 

You wince and fumble to free your phone from the holder on your belt. "Eleven." 

He sniffs and nods. 

"I know it's not on the list, but... coffee, please." 

He backs up and rubs his temple. You can tell by how he moves that he has a headache. You didn't expect a super soldier to fet those.  

"Yes, sir," you leave the hand broom on the step so you can remember where you left off and stand. 

You come down cautiously. You don't like how narrow and steep the climb is. Bucky goes to the couch and drops down heavily. You glance over as he grips his skull. 

You keep your phone out and google the instructions for his coffee machine. You don't have one yourself.  You find the bag of grinds and load it up. You add water to the tank then hit 'brew'. Simple enough. 

You wait for the machine to finish and pour a mug. You turn to face the front room. Bucky’s head rests against the cushion as he remains unmoving. You tiptoe over and peer around. The coffee table’s too far to put the cup down. You stare at him as his eyes are firmly shut. 

“Smells good,” he sits up and reaches for the mug. You hand it over. “You can help yourself.” 

You fold your hands and offer a tight smile, “no thanks. Very kind though.” 

He groans and nods, bringing the cup up to inhale the scent. He blows over it before he drinks. You wince. “Oh.” 

His blue eyes flick over to you, “what?” 

“Oh, I didn’t... didn’t ask if you put anything in it.” 

He shrugs, “black is fine.” He takes another deep swig and clears his throat. “You wouldn’t believe the dirt water they put in field rations.” 

You dip your chin and shrug, “uh, oh no.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he grumbles as he cradles the mug in his large hands and leans forward, elbows on his thighs. “Just... talking.” 

You nod and put your hands behind you. He glances at you again. You can’t read his expression. Is he annoyed? 

“Goddamn,” he exhales deeply and raises the cup to press against his forehead. 

You watch him, teetering between fleeing back to the stairs and waiting for him to tell you to do so. “Do you need some advil?” 

His cheek dimples and he scoffs as he lowers the mug, “doesn’t work for me.” 

Your brows pop up curiously, “oh.” 

“Another cup should do the trick,” he drains the coffee and holds out the cup. “Appreciate it, doll.” 

“Yes, sir,” you take it as a dregs trickles down onto your fingers. 

“Don’t gotta call me sir. This isn’t a platoon,” he rubs his cheek. “Not the sergeant here. Just...” his voice trails off and he shakes his head. He stands and rolls his shoulders. “You can leave the cup on the counter for me.” 

He steps towards you and you flinch. He moves around you and you turn to watch him. His feet slap the floor heavily. He must be in rough shape as you usually don’t hear him stalking around the place. He disappears into the bathroom, the door clicking shut. 

You look down at the porcelain. More coffee. Simple. 

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.4 (Lewisia) a3d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 10,680

Notes: Holy shit, it's been like 3 months?????? In my defense, holidays are awful, and this is a fuckin' beast of a chapter. Binnie would NAWT shut up T^T She almost matches the word count for the entire fic so far TT^TT Plus 10 images of texting. Y am i like this??? Huge shout outs to my lovely, patient, amazing betas who made this chapter at ALL possible, @lazyfacecowboy and @brbwritingfanfic. Seriously, this would not have been written without y'all, everyone say thank you! Also special mention for @chancloud8 for negotiating me through the last bit of the chapter LMAO. She kept feeding me fics, they were my reward for doing the writing UvU

Hope y'all enjoy! And I hope it was worth the wait <3

(p.s my ass did NOT do a real final readthrough. If the formatting is weird pls forgive me, I'm sick of looking @ her T^T)

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: Allusions to past domestic violence, flashback of verbal abuse (very vague, but still there), panic attack, she/her reader

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part (Coming Soon <3)

The next morning marks a return to routine.

You roll out of bed half awake, sleep-mused and ready for murder. Your mood isn’t improved by the way you’d gone to bed - still in your work clothes with day-after mascara gluing your eyelids together.

A quick stop by the restroom to strip and scrub your face is a necessity, otherwise you’re liable to just crawl back into bed and rot there. You honestly wish you could. Just rot away and let all this soulmate business pass you by as you slowly return to the earth.

Alas, capitalism waits for no man.

You examine your reflection when you’ve finished, doing your best to ignore the remaining traces of grey streaks down your cheeks where your eyeliner hadn’t been as waterproof as advertised.

You try to hold onto the flash of irritation the sight brings you, to cling to the normalcy of being irritated that your makeup is waterproof enough to be a pain to remove, but not to stay through your tears. Then you remember what you’d been crying over and the pit of fear and shame that’s been your companion the last few days comes rolling back.

You don’t even know why you’d cried. Don’t feel like you deserved to cry. After all, it’s not like you were the one rejected by your soulmate for no reason.

You do your best to shake off the incoming spiral, ambling your way into the kitchen. You just need to fall back on your routines and feel normal for a bit. You’re not entirely convinced that ignoring your problems won’t make them go away, despite the dark feelings trembling in your chest.

You press your lips together to stop the bottom one from trembling and open the fridge. There’s a plate of eggs, fruit, and toast inside.

Taylor, freak of nature that he is, has been up for hours already, you know. He’d probably been up and out the door before the sun had even thought about rising. Weirdo.

Your roommate is well aware of how non-functional you can be in the morning, so it’s not unusual of him to leave you leftovers when he makes breakfast. Especially when he knows you’re not feeling your best. The little note on top isn’t new either: usually a reminder, grocery list, or a little encouragement for your day. The whole thing makes you smile, usually, and you’re always touched by his consideration.

Today that little note makes your eyes prick with a new wave of tears.

‘Give yourself a chance. Bet’s still on <3’

The $20 you’d slapped onto the counter last night is taped to the back. It feels a bit like a stone hand is crushing your heart under the weight of something unknowable and precious when you carefully tuck both the money and the note into your wallet.

You very deliberately do NOT cry, though it’s a near thing. You’d done enough crying last night. But if you sniffle a bit into cold eggs, well...

That’s for you to know, isn’t it?

It’s a Tuesday, so after breakfast you drag yourself back to your room to throw on your largest, rattiest, t-shirt and a pair of leggings to head to the gym. You’ll drag yourself through your routine with leaded limbs if you have to, you’re going to have the most regular day you can manage and everything will be fine. It has to be.

You can’t help it when eyes catch on the newly-bloomed marks on your skin as you strip away your sleepwear. The sight makes you uneasy, almost uncomfortable. It takes you a moment to realize why looking at your mark, a daily ritual you’ve kept for years, feels so foreign to you today.

It’s almost alarming to acknowledge that you haven’t actually looked at your mark since you’d met your first soulmate. The concert feels like a lifetime ago, now, despite having been barely two days ago. You’re a bit ashamed to admit that you’d been avoiding looking at it since you’d felt the first flowers bloom.

It’s no wonder looking at it feels weird, you muse as you study it now. It might as well be a whole new mark, for all the changes that have happened since you last saw it.

You decide, in the name of returning to your routine for good, that you can’t skip even this tiny part of your daily rituals.

You shuffle over to your closet, swinging open the door to reveal the full-length mirror hanging on the other side. You don’t bother with your usual rounds of self-depreciation or daily affirmations. Instead, you find your eyes glued to droopy purple petals and blankets of white stars across your abdomen.

Something wilted and small within you mourns the loss of the buds that had brought you so much comfort since they’d appeared. The new blooms are beautiful, of course, vibrant and radiant and full of so much meaning. Still, the change wounds you.

Only time will tell if it’s the healing sort of hurt.

You find your eyes glued to the fresh flowers. Their names come to mind with ease as you trace gentle fingers over echoes of delicate petals. ‘Bellflowers’ You recite to yourself, drawing your finger up thin stalks and back down dipped heads, ‘for gratitude, affection, and endurance’. Your fingers dance a bit lower. ‘Edelweiss’ you muse, lightly tapping each fuzzy white star, ‘for devotion, nobility, and courage’.

The knowledge comes easily to you, not from any cosmic force, but because of course it does. Your sister hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that asking a person’s favorite flower had been basically an obsession of yours.

The habit had started well before you’d gotten your mark. Before you’d even properly known what soulmates were, really.

It started with lazy summer days you’d been almost too young to remember. A slim hand engulfing your tiny wrist, being made to sit next to your mother while she did something in the dirt, her shadow your only shelter from the blistering sun.

Gardening with your mother had started as a way for her to drag you out of the house to get some sun while keeping an easy eye on you. Before your sister was born you’d spent many hazy afternoons learning to work the soil beside your mother.

After the advent of your favorite gremlin, you’d spent those afternoons tending to the family garden alone.

You remember being grateful to the newborn back then. Those solitary afternoons were some of the most peaceful in your memory.

At some point the ‘family garden’ had become more ‘your garden’. Your mother wouldn’t even bother to plan it out with you by the time your sister had reached her toddler years. She’d drive you to the store, hand you a bit of cash, and leave it all in your tiny capable hands.

You’d spent hours researching the best ways to nurture your plants.

What flowers liked being planted together, which ones should be separated. You learned about soil types and the nutrients found in them. You learned about ph values, how to measure them, and why they mattered. Anything to have your garden thriving more brightly, more beautifully, for longer.

If you weren’t in the garden, you were in the library by your house, nose buried in a gardening book.

You vividly remember the day it all went wrong.

It hadn’t even been that dramatic, as you recall. At least, not in terms of your parent’s usual fights. It was heartbreak—despair— that had marked the day, instead of fear.

You’d been digging up weeds, clawing up deep roots with your gloved hands and a trowel, when your father had come storming outside.

You don’t remember what he’d said. It’d been nonsense, just vitriol for vitriols' sake. Something about you always taking your mother’s side because of your shared hobby, you think.

Never mind that the woman hadn’t put so much as a toenail to the dirt since your sister had been born.

He hadn’t let up for quite a while, if memory serves. Stood there yelling at you in your safe space for close to an hour. Maybe two, but your child-brain couldn’t be trusted with the time.

It may have just been minutes, now that you think about it.

Nonetheless, he’d yelled, and yelled, and yelled. He hadn’t trampled on or broken anything. He hadn’t even made sense.

And yet, when he’d finally left, everything was different.

The blooms you’d worked so hard to nurture were no longer beautiful, the soil you’d once called home no longer safe.

You hadn’t tended another garden after that season. You’d seen your plants to winter, and you’d let go. You’d turned away from the sun and soil and leaned into your books and silly questions to fill the hole left behind.

You’re sure you’d left claw marks in the dirt.

Something like a gentle humming emanates from your soulmark, and its warmth draws you back to the present. You look down at it, noticing how tightly you're clutching at the garden around your waist, your arms wrapped around you in a weak semblance of a hug. Each of your fingers had managed to directly touch a flower.

The awkward sprawl of your fingers feels natural, as if you’d never sought to comfort yourself any other way. As if seeking out your bond, your link to total strangers, for comfort was all you’d ever done.

It was natural, you muse. It was human nature to seek resonance in their bonded. It was the universe’s way of assuring you that you’re loved. Your soulmate’s way of assuring you that they’re still there.

You gingerly pry your hands away and blankly study the crescent moons you’ve left behind, soft skin indented where petals should have ripped.

You wonder if you’ll leave claw marks in this garden too. If they’ll leave claw marks in you.

You tear your eyes away from the mirror, ignoring the warm, gentle tingling up your side where your fingers had dug in. You know it means the people on the other end are pressing against their own marks. You know it shows their care, how that gentle sensation masks the stinging ache your fingers should have left behind.

For some reason, you miss the pain.

You quickly toss on a camisole, forgoing your usual privacy wraps, and your t-shirt over that.

There was nothing for emptying your mind quite like running yourself into the ground at the gym. With full awareness that you’re going to regret your gym session later, you flee your apartment, your mind pleading normal, normal, normal.

Maybe jogging all the way to the gym wasn’t such a great idea. It’d sounded fantastic at the time, a head start on your cardio and a way to remove yourself from your negative headspace before you tried to toss around weights you barely knew how to use.

It had sort of worked, but now you hadn’t even entered the building and you were already a sweaty, panting, mess.

You enter the building after guzzling down half of your water bottle, resignation in your heart. Cardio wasn’t even your focus today.

The automatic doors slide open with their usual swish and you’re greeted by the familiar stale smell all gyms seem to share, no matter how clean. It’s comforting, even if you do kind of wanna go home already.

There’s someone already at the receptionist’s desk when you approach, talking in slow and measured English. You try not to be annoyed with the tiny delay, but while you’d successfully outrun your demons (for now), your bad mood had stuck around.

Alas, you’ve ventured into the public and found the public there. A travesty. Knowing that you just have to deal with it, you cross your arms and bite back the irritation this complete stranger hadn’t done anything to earn.

Luckily enough, the low and measured cadence of the stranger’s voice is soothing enough to zone out to. Unfortunately, he’s also the only thing around to rest your eyes on, so you find yourself studying his form.

His back is broad and built, huge biceps on display in a tight fitting black t-shirt. You kinda wanna squish them. A vivid tattoo sleeve runs all the way down to his wrist, and you find your stare glued to it.

Large, boldly colored flowers take up the majority of the space, vague outlines of crashing waves and rolling mists filling in the rest with a luxurious combination of oriental art styles.

Beautiful as it is, you can’t help but think it doesn’t look finished.

Dragging your eyes away from such gorgeous ink is quite the task, but you don’t want your admiration to be mistaken for judgement. It gets easier when you start to notice just how fine the man himself is.

You really can’t help the way your eyes trace up and down his body, now that you’re no longer anchored to his tattoo. It should be impossible, you think, to somehow bulk up in only the right places, but by Jove this man has done it. You’re jealous, honestly.

Your eyes come to a rest on the stranger’s backside. Quite jealous, indeed.

You try to shake yourself from your admiration, reminding yourself that there were very many well-muscled men in this place and that you’d always endeavored to keep a polite line-of-sight, even when they didn't. It hadn’t even been a hard ask, until now.

You drag your gaze back up to the back of his head.

You’d be polite if it killed you. Even if neither the stranger or the scrawny receptionist had noticed your wandering gaze. Especially then.

While you were.... distracted... the man’s conversation with the receptionist seemed to have gone a whole lot of nowhere. From what you can gather, he’s looking for a short-term membership, and the receptionist is trying to tell him they don’t do that.

You know that’s true, the receptionist isn’t trying to scam the guy. Even the trial period for this place was an entire month. You’d specifically chosen this gym for that reason. If you hadn’t been able to stick it out for a month, you know you’d have never used the place enough to justify a membership.

You send your sympathies to this stranger, it seems he really just needs a little less than a week. You know there are some no-commitment type places not too far though, so you wonder why he’s stuck on this place.

Their back and forth goes a while longer, but it’s evident that the beautifully-built stranger can’t really argue his case properly. Whether because of the obvious language barrier he’s working with, or because he’s run out of arguments, you can’t be sure.

Eventually he steps to the side to make a call, and you’re able to approach the counter.

The receptionist (His name is Jake, you remind yourself by reading his name-tag. The owner’s nephew, if you recall) looks relieved to see you after whatever hassling the stranger had given him.

He lazily waves the clipboard and its sign-in sheet at you in greeting. You take the clipboard, trading him your membership card and driver’s license for it, and turn to prop your knee up on the counter to balance it while you write.

Incidentally, your choice of position keeps the stranger in your line of sight.

It also happens to give Jake a view of his own, but you magnanimously ignore his gaze wandering to your chest. If only because you’re still looking not-so-respectfully at the tattooed stranger a few feet away.

You weren’t close to the receptionist by any means, but Jake is easy to chat to, when you take the extra minute to do so. The type of acquaintance you’d never remember the name of if it weren’t pinned to his lapel, but you've seen pictures of every dog he’s ever had.

It makes it easy to pry him for gossip.

“So what was that all about?” You query as you hand back the clipboard. He shrugs at you, typing a second longer.

“Some big-shot who needs a security detail,” He answers, unimpressed, “Says this is the only gym in, like, five miles of his hotel that he doesn’t need an entourage to go to.”

You hum your understanding, now trying to place if the handsome stranger was someone you knew of.

Situations like that weren’t uncommon for this gym. Celebrities that actually lived in LA weren’t spotted here very often but, since it was settled very close to quite a few high-security luxury hotels, the building saw its fair share of famous faces.

Due to its occasionally high-profile clientele, security was kept quite tightly, and a certain code of conduct was expected amongst the gym’s members. It was another justification for the long trial period, wherein one could only access the front room with the basic weights and machines. All the fancy stuff (including a pool, rock wall, dance studio, and all sorts) was in the back.

Non-members weren’t allowed past reception at all.

It was also another reason you yourself were a patron here. The high security and strict standards made for a quiet and comfortable atmosphere.

At least, as long as you ignored the judgmental looks. Most people who utilized this space were much more fit and put together than you. You tried not to let it bother you.

“What’s the issue, then?” You question Jake, “Doesn’t the owner make exceptions for celebrities?” You phrase it as a question, but you know he does. The unfamiliar faces that pop up for a few days every now and then wouldn’t show up otherwise.

Jake just sighs like he’s had this conversation a thousand times. Considering the celebrity(?) waving his hands around as he spoke rapidly into his phone not far away, maybe he had.

“He does, but he’s out of town and no one else can adjust the contracts.” He eventually explains. He finally hands you your stuff back, and you hum consideringly as you put the cards back in your wallet.

Another glance at the furrowed brows on the stranger’s masked face has pity welling up your throat.

You turn your gaze to focus on Jake.

“Do I still have that visitor pass?” You ask him, knowing that he still has your details up. Jake glances at you with a raised eyebrow, but obligingly checks the computer.

“Yup,” He confirms, “You’ve been paying for it since you dragged your poor roommate in here that one time. Why?”

“Can he use it?” you nod your head to the frustrated stranger. From where you’re sat, still perched on the edge of the desk, it looks oddly like he’s begging whoever’s on the other line.

Your visitor pass wasn’t all-access, of course. It’d just get the poor guy into the main front room plus the locker rooms and showers, but you figured it’d be better than nothing. It wasn’t like Taylor would step foot in here after you’d run him ragged last time, not even for the moral support.

Jake levels you with his most deadpan stare. It’s quite a good one, completely unimpressed. You think it must be something about customer service that allows him to make that face. Or maybe it’s just you.

“You realize that your visitor pass is you vouching for your visitor’s character, right?” He reminds you, “If he does anything, breaks anything, pisses off the wrong lifeguard- it’ll be on your head.”

You just shrug. It’s not like you couldn’t find a new gym if you had to. You’d miss this one, with its quiet atmosphere and abundant amenities, but you didn’t require its security and discretion like some of the other members did.

“I’ve got a good feeling about it.” Is all you tell Jake. It’s not even a lie.

The poor boy just rolls his eyes at you. He still turns to rifle through the desk for the right form for you to fill out though, so you’ll take it.

“You a fan of his or something?” Jake asks, handing you a different clipboard. “There are easier ways to bag a celebrity.”

“Nope!” You answer cheerfully, fully ignoring the suggestion of your motives as you start to fill out the form, “No idea who he is.”

Jakes huffs an incredulous laugh, and turns a considering gaze on your new friend. And the stranger does have to be a friend now, because ‘some guy’ is not an option on your paperwork.

“I bet he’s a wrestler,” he finally says after a long moment, “Or a sportswear model.”

You gently bop him on the head with your clipboard, “I refuse to participate in your speculation.” You admonish, ignoring his whining.

“I’ll show you his picture when you leave,” He smirks back, “and whatever google says about him.” He shrugs when you send him a cutting glare, “What? It’s public information.”

“Respect your customer’s privacy, you weirdo.” You scold. He just laughs as you hand him the form, all filled out and just waiting for the stranger’s signature. You know full well that Jake will go through with his research, regardless of what you say, so you give up easily.

It’s not like he’ll be fired for doing it, as long as you don’t go blabbing about the poor celebrity outside of the gym. Privileges of nepotism.

You exchange farewells as you hop off the counter, and he begins to wave over Mr. Celebrity. You meet the eyes of your on-paper friend and offer him a quick nod before you scuttle off deeper into the building.

Hopefully he’d be too grateful for your offer to find you terribly strange.

You manage to make it all the way through your warm-ups before your good deed gets punished. You suppose you’ll be grateful to the universe for letting you find your zen on your yoga mat before it dropped the other shoe.

You notice the legs in the mirror before you realize someone is trying to speak to you. You accidentally ignore the newcomer for several long moments, assuming they were approaching to use a different part of the mirror. When you finally realize they’re waiting for you to acknowledge them, it’s been just shy of too long.

You ease out of your last stretch and stand up, automatically taking an earbud out as you turn to face them.

“Sorry, did you need me to move?” You question as you finally look up. You‘d had your most emo playlist blasting in your ears during your warm up, an attempt to process your feelings through movement or whatever that one instructor from forever ago had tried to teach you.

So of course it’s with perfect clarity that A. Jay Popoff sings “I am my own worst enemy” into the empty space between you and Seo motherfuckin’ Changbin.

Your mental plea for a normal, routine sort of day dies a horrible death when you make eye contact with the pop-star.

And you realize you really must be your worst enemy as you do, because you easily recognize the outfit he’s wearing and the vivid tattoos on his arm.

Of course your good deed for the day led you to one of your soulmates. Of. Fucking. Course.

You’re not sure what you’d done to Karma recently for her to be throwing all of this shit at you right now, but you’d appreciate it if she’d just let you apologize instead of whatever cruel punishment this is.

Changbin must realize you recognize him, because he shyly raises a hand to fiddle with his earrings as he replies.

“Ah, no, I uh...” The hand slides to the back of his neck and he clears his throat uncomfortably. You quickly school your expression back into a semblance of normality when he glances away. You feel like you might still be a bit wild around the eyes, though.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” He concludes. He looks like he wants to say more, but you figure he might not have the English words to do so easily. It’s okay, you don’t really have the Korean to describe how you’re feeling right now either.

Your first instinct is to offer to speak Korean for him, but the air between the two of you is already wildly uncomfortable. Vastly different causes for both of you, you’re sure, but it’s enough to make you second guess your every move.

“Oh, uh, no problem.” You assure.

You stare resolutely at his nose when you speak. If you look into his eyes again you’re sure you’ll spill your entire life story. And if not that extreme, you’ll at least spill the whole soulmate thing. Something about being directly confronted with your problems makes you chatty.

But also if you look away from his face, knowing that body is supposed to be compatible with yours... It leads to some very impolite thoughts. Cute as it is, his nose is the safest thing for you to look at right now.

You offer the idol a thin-lipped smile when you realize the interaction hasn’t ended. Dear god, why has it not ended?

“Anything else I can do for ya?” you offer, inwardly cursing your manners. You’ve lived here long enough that you know people outside your tiny country-side town take that as an invitation instead of a dismissal.

Sure enough, Changbin starts to speak again, his words slow and careful. You watch him wipe his palms on his shorts, idly wondering if he’s shitting himself internally as much as you are right now. And what he’s freaking out about if he is.

“You... Recognize me? Are you STAY?” He gestures a bit while he talks, like he’s trying to cast a spell on you to understand what he’s trying to say. You think it might work, because your mouth is running off without you before you quite process the words.

“Ahh.. hah, uh,” You chuckle awkwardly, your fingers rising to pinch your lips nervously, “My roommate is. We were at your concert the other day, actually,” And even as you say the words your eyes flick down to his arm. You refocus, hopefully before he could notice the quick glance, but you can’t stop your thoughts from spiraling.

After all, he didn’t have that kind of ink at the concert. You and Taylor were front row, right up on the barricade, you’d seen all eight Stray Kids up close and personal. You’d have remembered such a vivid tattoo. And there were only so many reasons to cover a sleeve like that so completely.

Something complicated settles in your stomach as you realize that Changbin is probably a ‘loud and proud’ kind of soulmate, if he’s showing off his mark like this outside of his work. Work you know prevents him from showing off his mark.

Your mouth keeps running without you while you have your little crisis.

“I didn’t recognize you at reception, I woulda had you sign something for him.” You can’t help the rush of embarrassment that sweeps through you, even as you laugh uncomfortably at your own joke.

Why on earth would you say something like that? This situation is already uncomfortable enough! On so many levels!

Somehow, this seems to have been the right thing to say, though, as Changbin’s eyes light up at your joke, the tension easing a bit.

“I can sign,” He suggests, “It would make me feel...” He starts gesturing again, looking for the word he wants, “Less bad?” He finishes like a question.

And suddenly you understand his awkwardness a lot better. It always sucks to feel indebted to someone.

You laugh a little more freely with your new understanding, “Oh, you really don’t have to,” You assure, “I was just joking.”

He shakes his head, “Think of it as.. trade.” He nods, satisfied with himself.

You bob your head to the side, pressing your lips together with a tiny, frustrated, whine, “I really didn’t want anything from you,” you insist, “I hold onto that pass for my roommate, but he never comes with me anyways. You’re doing me a favor using it, seriously.”

You try to speak slowly and clearly, taking a page from Changbin’s book and letting your hands roam while you speak. You hope your spell of understanding works as well as his did.

He takes a moment to respond, mouthing along to some of your words. It’s kind of fascinating to watch someone translate in real time, especially when the process is written all over their face. It’s a little surreal to be on the other side of it.

Eventually his face clears, and he makes a little ‘ah!’ noise that you really shouldn’t find as endearing as you do. You’re in the middle of rejecting your soulmates, you should not be finding one of them cute right now.

“If it is roommate’s pass, more reason to sign, yes?” He reasons, looking proud of his logic. You huff a tiny laugh at him, absolutely charmed.

“Sure, big guy,” You sigh with defeat, though you can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face, “Sounds like a fair trade. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

The two of you stall for a moment, the atmosphere leagues lighter than before.

When the moment seems over, you make a show of looking down at your pocket-less outfit, and then at the ground around you.

“I don’t have a pen on me,” you trail off meaningfully. He looks surprised for a second, like the possibility had never occurred to him.

“Oh,” He looks around as well, lost for a moment, “I can see if front desk has one?” he asks, like he’s looking for instruction. Another thought seems to occur to him then.

“Do you have...” He starts to gesture again, but you cut him off with a nod, fairly certain you’re sure what he’s trying to ask.

“Yeah, I’m sure I can find something for you to sign,” You point in the direction of the locker room, “I’ll probably have to look in my bag though.” You glance between him, the door to the locker room, and the door that leads out to reception.

“Meet back here in 5?” you propose. He seems content with this plan and nods in agreement. “Oh!” You stop him before he can fully turn around.

“Ask for a sharpie,” you instruct, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to find regular paper.” In fact, you’re pretty sure you’ll be sacrificing the spare ball cap you keep in your bag for this. You hope Taylor likes tie-dye.

With that, the two of you go your separate ways. It takes you no time at all to locate the bright monstrosity of a hat, a souvenir you abhorred from one of your father’s many ‘business’ trips. It would be no loss to you, but you take time to see if you have any actual paper around. You need the processing time.

Stars above, what were you thinking? There was no way you were getting out of this without another soulmate bond, but here you were, casually chatting with the guy instead of getting the fuck out of dodge!

You really couldn’t help it though.

Even when he’d been no more than a stranger to you, you hadn’t been able to help the way you gravitated toward Changbin. Now that you knew he was your soulmate, your actions made a lot more sense to you.

You’d always been on the people pleasing side of helpful, but vouching for a complete stranger was new for you. Even now, you were obediently grabbing an item for him to deface with a signature you don’t even want (no matter how thoroughly Taylor would murder you if you’d passed it up) just because you could tell how uneasy Changbin was with just accepting the visitor pass.

It didn’t help that the man was endearing as hell. Every little thing he did seemed cute to you, and you’d barely known him for ten minutes!

You felt like this was a new low for you. Doing things you didn’t really want to, for a man. Taylor would be so disappointed in you.

Having stalled for maybe far too long, you settle on sacrificing the atrocious hat to Changbin’s pen and put your stuff away. Something heavy and squirmy settles in your chest as you make your way back out to retrieve your prize from the man of the hour.

Surprisingly, there’s no accidental meeting of hands when Changbin autographs your hat. He did give you a bit of a bemused look for the choice of item, but you’d just shrugged at him. It was all you were willing to sacrifice, and Taylor should be grateful for even this much, in your opinion.

Unsurprisingly, the lack of first contact does not ease your mind at all. In fact, it rockets up your anxiety another thousand notches. You can’t help checking over your shoulder at every opportunity, despite the fact that Changbin hadn’t left the weights area since he’d settled there and couldn't follow you through the door to the rest of the facility regardless.

Look, you know how the whole first contact thing worked, okay? Fate would put two soulmates in the same place for whatever stupid reason, and find an even stupider reason for them to make skin-to-skin contact. You’d experienced it twice now, and you couldn’t help but think going out of your way to avoid everything Changbin was wouldn’t help you very much.

Even still, you can’t stay paranoid and vigilant forever. When nothing happens while you finish your cardio, or when you work your way through both the pool and the sauna, you admittedly let down your guard a bit.

Maybe that’s why, after you’ve made your way back to the front room to try and finish your workout, when you’re mid-stretch and staring daggers at a weight machine you’re sure you’ll figure out how to use if you glare long enough, you jump about five miles out of your skin when you hear Changbin’s voice behind you.

Jumping from such a precarious position is never a good idea, and your sudden movement has set your head on a one-way collision course with the gym’s hardwood floors about it.

Hands fly around your middle, catching you awkwardly around your ribs. Unfortunately, all this noble attempt to catch you does is slow your descent, giving you just enough time to flinch violently enough to bring your arms up and prevent your head from meeting the ground and brace for impact.

The rest of you still hits the ground pretty hard, and Changbin’s knees and elbows meet a similar fate, his own head saved by headbutting your stomach, knocking the air out of you even harder than it already had been.

The two of you sit there a moment, groaning with the pain of your fall. At least you don’t have a concussion. You’ll take every small mercy with the way the universe has treated you lately.

Some part of you is cognizant enough to give the heavens a heartfelt thank you when you notice that none of your aches and pains are from your soulbond activating. Somehow, through that entire debacle, and even considering the amount of exposed skin between your t-shirt and his, you hadn’t managed to touch. You’re still safe.

As the shock starts to wear off, you start to become aware of the warmth of large hands still resting heavily against your sides, both soothing and wildly distracting. It’s like every fiber of your being is focused on where he’s touching you, warm and weighty. Changbin’s head still buried in your abdomen doesn’t help with the building fluster taking over your brain.

You swear one of his thumbs has landed squarely on one of the flower buds directly opposite Lee Know’s Bellflowers, and the tingly feeling of the bond weakly trying and failing to establish through the thin barrier of your shirt is not helping your mushy brain at all.

You tip your head back to stare at the ceiling, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent yourself from doing something stupid, like confessing all of your sins to Changbin right then and there.

Maybe you did have a concussion after all.

It’s probably been less than a minute since the two of you hit the floor, but it feels like ten hours have passed when Changbin finally lifts his head, wide eyes finding yours frantically.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” He asks, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, are you okay?” He uses his hold on you to gently lift you to a seated position, removing them in favor of hovering politely as he fusses. You don’t think he’s realized he’s reverted to his native Korean in his panic.

“I’m alright, I’m okay,” you assure him in the same language, “Just bruised a bit, I’m fine.”

He continues to fuss a bit more, running you through a quick series of concussion tests even after you tell him that you hadn’t hit your head at all. It’s only after he’s helping you to your feet, respectfully allowing you to use a clothed part of his arm to help yourself up, that he clocks the language the both of you are using.

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” He teases, “You speak Korean all of the sudden.”

You can’t help the little laugh that escapes you, nor can you help how his smug little smile makes your heart flutter. “I’ve spoken Korean the whole time.” You inform him.

“And you didn’t tell me? You just let me struggle?” The fondness in his smile assures you that he’s just joking, so you respond in kind.

“You were just trying so hard...” You shrug sheepishly and delight in the full body laugh that tears out of him. You wait for him to calm before you ask, “What did you need, by the way? I didn’t catch what you said before, well..” You gesture helplessly at the floor.

It’s his turn to look sheepish now, shoulders hiking up and a nervous hand making its way to his neck, “Ah, that.” he shrugs, “I was just saying that you had a pretty soulmark.”

The sudden compliment catches you off guard, and you suddenly become aware that your camisole has come loose from where it had been tucked into your sweats. Your hand flies up to cover the now-covered skin of your stomach, feeling sick.

You can’t remember when it happened, and the thought of however many strangers seeing your soulmark, no matter how little of it, sends a sharp note of dread through your body. You suddenly feel eyes digging into your skin, despite being covered again as soon as you’d stood up. You feel a bit sick, your skin crawling with discomfort.

You’re aware that your camisole would have ridden up to your lower back, at most, but there’s no telling how much of your mark anyone might have seen. What Changbin might have seen, what he may have noticed.

Changbin must notice your sudden pallid complexion, and continues on, trying to reassure you, probably. You barely hear him over the heartbeat in your ears, your trembling hands trying to discreetly tuck the undershirt back in while he speaks.

“I just meant that it’s very colorful and vibrant,” He explains, smile fading from his face as concern starts to cloud it at your reaction, “Whoever your soulmate is, they’re very lucky.”

“Ah, I don’t know them yet,” You counter. It’s even the truth. You hadn’t spoken much to any of your soulmates so far. Well, until now, you guess.

“Oh, well, I stand by what I said.” He asserts, his easy grin betrayed by the pinch between his brows, “Whoever your soulmate is will be very lucky to have you.”

“I don’t know about all that,” You tilt your head with self-deprecating consideration.

Maybe it’s a lingering guilt for how you’ve been handling your soulmates so far that makes you continue the thought, instead of laughing it off like the joke it should be. Maybe you just want him- want them- to know why you’ve been acting this way, “I don’t even know if I want to meet them, so I’m not sure how lucky they could be to have me as a soulmate.”

Changbin levels you with an absolutely baffled look, as if you’ve just challenged the very foundation of his worldview.

“Why not?” He asks, “Doesn’t everyone want to meet their soulmate?”

You wrap yourself in a loose hug, one hand rubbing soothingly at your elbow, and shrug, “I just... I haven’t had great experiences with soulmates, is all.” You can’t keep your eyes from straying to his soulmark, vibrant and full.

It’s an image that would be hard to elbow your way into, and you can’t imagine a way that the addition of you could possibly enhance it. It still feels unfinished to you, but it doesn’t look that way. You feel both better and worse about yourself, knowing that they didn’t need you.

A glance at Changbin’s utterly lost face has you opening your mouth before you can think about it, shoulders beginning to climb up to your ears.

“Not all soulmates get along, you know?” You mutter sullenly, almost to yourself.

Changbin seems to consider this for a moment, head tilting cutely to the side as he takes in your claim.

“I mean, sure.” He draws his words out slowly, carefully, with a little furrow between his brows. “Everyone fights sometimes, but you get through it together, right? That’s what makes you soulmates. Choosing to stick together.”

You couldn’t hold in the scoff and eye-roll combo that rips out of you if you’d tried. “Yeah, maybe.”

You’d feel bad about the venom in your voice, or the way it causes Changbin to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, but you can’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. Something sick and dark twists around your stomach, and the battle to keep a deep scowl from your face is the only one you’re willing to fight right now.

“I have a feeling that was the wrong thing to say,” Changbin smiles wanly at you, and you meet his eyes for barely a second before you find yourself melting beneath his earnest gaze. The thorns around your heart ease just enough to bleed, and you shrug at him again.

“When people stay together just because they’re soulmates it only makes things worse.” you tell him, “Nothing gets magically fixed just because you’re soulmates.”

Surprisingly, Changbin agrees easily, “Well, yeah, that’s not the kind of sticking together I’m talking about,” He explains, “I meant more, like,” He gestures as he tries to find his words, and your heart positively aches as you realize the habit transcends languages.

You find yourself softening more and relaxing out of your defensive curl out of sheer endearment. You’re sure you’d be making absolute heart-eyes at Changbin right now if the topic at hand wasn’t so deeply uncomfortable for you.

“Ok, let me try an example,” He eventually decides, his eyes following your gaze where it had once again returned to his soulmark without your permission. He flexes a bit, making the flowers on his skin bounce and dance with a small, fond, smile. “I’m soulmates with the other members, right?”

He says it easily, casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You almost nod along, before you remember that the world at large definitely does not have that information, even if you do, and you meet his smug little smirk with wide-eyed shock.

You can’t help but gape at him for the casual confession, glancing around the empty gym like someone else might’ve heard Changbin’s brazen confession. He’s already waving you off before you can sputter out the questions stuck in your throat.

“It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it. It’s not like we try very hard to hide it.” He does a weird little half-nod-half-shrug motion at his soulmark, “But yeah, we’re all soulmates, and we all pretty much knew before debut, even though Innie’s mark hadn’t shown up yet.”

You do nod this time. Slowly, though, as you try to figure out where he’s going with this. Changbin takes it as permission to continue, and so he does.

“Well, Jeongin’s our baby, and even though marks show up at 18, you’re not an adult in Korea until 19, so there’s a lot we had to leave him out on.” He grimaces a little, “Being an Idol is stressful as it is, throwing a new soul bond and puberty and all that on top wasn’t very helpful. We were all volatile and fragile. But Innie definitely took it the worst. He felt left behind and unfair and angry with it all.”

He chuckles and gives a little shrug, “We had our share of knock-down, drag-outs.” He admits sheepishly, “It wasn’t an easy time for us.” He rolls his head toward the ceiling and, despite Changbin’s efforts, you can easily spot the smitten look on his face along with his cherry-red ears.

“But we made it through,” He says softly, “We took the time to dig into all of his insecurities and find what we could do to help him. He made the choice to be vulnerable and honest with us. It took time to get here, but we made it through.”

Changbin meets your eyes again, “That’s what I mean when I say soulmates are about choosing to stick together. You work through the hard times and disagreements together, work toward something better. Soulmates are destiny, but love is choice.”

You let his words rattle around your brain as you get lost in his earnest gaze. Let the idea settle into you like something entirely new, like it wasn’t your understanding of healthy relationships beforehand. Of course that’s the ideal, you know that. No one is perfect and all that, everyone disagrees sometimes. It’s discussing it and finding solutions together that makes a partnership work long-term. You know that.

For the first time, you wonder if you’d just always considered soulmates an exception to the rule.

You’d automatically assigned soulmates as a concept a failing grade at working their problems through. Your parents certainly never worked out their issues, and every soulmate you’d ever seen in the media was an automatic happy-ending. As soon as that bond snaps into place, the story’s over. Happily ever after.

You’d always thought ‘ever after’ must be an awful short time.

‘Love is choice’ echoes through you like something divine.

You break Changbin’s gaze and offer him a half-hearted shrug. “I guess.” you concede, “My soulmates probably have a lot of work cut out for them with me, though. So I still don’t know if they’d want me.”

“I think it’d be worth the work,” Changbin smiles gently at you, “To be your soulmate, I mean.”

You feel heat rush up your neck and bless your genetics for keeping it from showing on your cheeks. You disguise your bashfulness by lightly slapping Changbin’s shoulder (and woah is he solid under your hand when you do) and loudly complain about him being a flirt.

He responds by doing his best to fluster you, clearly enjoying putting those fanservice skills to use. You complain with every flex and smoulder, especially when he starts unleashing the aegyo, and the two of you let the banter and laughter chase away the somber mood.

Eventually you settle, and Changbin nods at the very intimidating machine you’d been staring at what felt like a lifetime ago now.

“Did you need a spotter?” He offers. You hem and haw for a moment, before sheepishly admitting that you need a teacher more than a spotter. When he lights up and offers to be that, too, you can’t help the way your eyes travel up and down his body with open admiration.

He certainly looks plenty qualified, and really, you’re only a girl. If your once-over leaves him with red ears and a smug grin, well. You’ll consider it your revenge for now.

You very quickly realize your mistake in letting him coach you.

Changbin tours you quickly around various machines, explaining their functions and the proper ways to use them to avoid injury. All well and good, and you ask permission to record short videos of him doing so in case you find yourself forgetting his advice, which he graciously allows on the condition you don’t share them anywhere.

You agree after negotiating for viewing rights for Taylor, with the reasoning that the lure of the videos might actually get your roommate back into the gym with you. It makes Changbin laugh enough to indulge you.

And then he actually starts you on a machine, after getting a rundown on what you’d already done today, and you experience hell on earth.

The thing is, he’s unfairly good at coaching you through it. He keeps up a steady stream of warm encouragement and light jokes even as you curse him out for steadily increasing the weights on each machine you work through. He’s right there to help you through the sets the moment you start to get too tired and is almost preternaturally good at pushing you to only just above your limits.

And his hands are always right there. He’s almost always touching you somehow, throughout the whole thing. His touch is light, coaching and clinical, and unfailingly polite. Still, the warmth of his skin through your flimsy gym-wear feels heavy. Nearly threatening. Distracting, at the very least.

You’ll definitely need those videos later.

It’s a relief when it’s over. You’re sore and sweaty and you have to go sit at a desk for six or more hours when you leave, which you’re very much not looking forward to.

Changbin splits with you to hit the showers, but somehow you still come together again before you pass reception.

“Thanks for today,�� you say as the two of you stall your goodbyes, “I had a lot of fun. You’ve more than earned that guest pass.” you tease, smile wide and mischievous.

He’s smiling too, even as he shoves your shoulder and complains about you extorting him.

When you run out of things to say, you shuffle lightly in place. It’s not like you expect him to give you his number, he is an Idol after all, but still you can’t quite make yourself leave. You find yourself casting around for something, anything, to say to make the moment last. To stay in his presence just a second longer.

You shake yourself out of it once you notice. You might not be running from them anymore, but you certainly weren’t trying to make friends with your soulmates. The longer you stayed in his presence, the more likely it was that you’d end up with another first contact.

At last, after a far-too-long moment of silence, you hold out your hand and offer a flat, closed-lip smile.

“It was really nice to meet you, Changbin.” You tell him sincerely, eyes locked on his. You swear looking your soulmates in the eye is some kind of hypnosis, the way you always get lost in them when you do. Something about it just makes you feel a tiny bit dumb, like your brain gets switched off.

“You too, y/n.” He agrees, reaching for your offered hand. You only realize what you’ve just done as your name leaves his lips, your eyes widening as they dart down to his hand and yours, but it’s far too late.

Your breath hitches a moment before his skin makes contact with yours, and you watch it happen in slow motion. He grasps your hand and pulls you in instead of settling for the more distant and formal farewell. All too quickly you’re settled into his grasp, completely enveloped in him and dizzy with more than just his warmth as soft prickles dance up your side.

You feel more than you hear him gasp, his hold on you so complete. Your head ends up on his shoulder as you stumble into him from his pull, and you get a front row seat to the top of his shoulder filling in with outlines and shadows from your place tucked against his neck, dull colors adding a definition to the images in his soulmark and settling like they’d always been there.

Distantly, you feel chest tighten with completion, with satisfaction and something smug and proud at the sight, even as your mind starts screaming.

Changbin is solid against you, comforting and almost stiflingly warm from both his workout and shower. You catch a whiff of his soap, the scent muting the alarm bells blaring in your brain even as you lay limp against him with the shock.

And then his hold on you tightens just a bit, only for a moment, but it’s all that it takes for you to break.

Your breath begins to hitch, visions of sweet touches turning sour and threatening violence causing you to flinch violently in Changbin’s comforting embrace. You feel your eyes begin to wet as you start to struggle, needing out, out, out.

It must have been less than a second, but Changbin pulls back, still holding you by your shoulders like he doesn’t know how to let go.

“Y/n?” He asks, voice small. You can only shake your head, breaths coming out in harsh gasps, limbs trembling violently. Changbin hurriedly lowers the two of you to the floor, much more prepared than you are for your limbs to give out halfway down.

He finally releases you as you settle and you curl tightly into yourself. The places where he’d held you feel frozen now, the cold viciously settling into your bones, even as Changbin does his best to get your attention and guide you through a breathing exercise.

You can’t focus on him though, the sensation of flowers blooming on your skin overwhelming, the memory of his touch both welcome and suffocating.

“S- ‘orry, I’m-” You hiccup, “I’m so- so s’rry-” If Changbin is at all put off by your sudden breakdown, he doesn’t show it. He just tilts his head and offers you hushed words of assurance.

“Nothing to be sorry for, y/n,” he assures, “It’s alright, just breathe, ok?”

He offers you a hand and you can’t help but take it, the warmth startling a breath into you that you hadn’t been aware you needed. Changbin guides your hand to his chest, instructing you to breathe with him, and you automatically focus on the heavy thump of his heartbeat under your palm.

He keeps talking to you, trying to keep your attention, but your mind spins wildly away from you even as you finally manage a deep inhale under Changbin’s attention.

You need to tell him that you’d known since he’d first spoken to you who he was. Who he was to you, even, but you can’t open your mouth to do more than gasp another apology. You’re sure he’ll hate you, leave you there on the floor of the gym to die like you deserve, especially after all you’d told him about how you feel about soulmates.

He’ll hate you for putting his soulmates through rejection, for refusing to speak to them or even look them in the eye. He’ll leave you here, humiliated on the gym’s floor, and you’ll deserve it because you’re a horrible person who wouldn’t even give them a breadth of a chance because you were too damn scared-

A hand grasps your spare one, the one not touching him, not keeping you just barely above the waves of hyperventilating, and you hadn’t even noticed it scrabbling at the stretched out neckline of your t-shirt until it’s gently pried away and guided to a wall of firm muscle.

Your fingers instinctively grasp what’s suddenly underneath them, and your vision stutters back in as a soft tingling rockets its way up your arm.

You distantly acknowledge that it was probably a bad thing that your vision had faded off with your eyes stuck wide open, staring blankly at legs you couldn’t feel. Right now, however, all you can experience is Changbin. His mark under your fingers, grip clawing and desperate. His heartbeat under your palm, faster than it should be, but steady and loud and feeling like it’s part of your own body.

Like he knows he has your attention again, Changbin ducks down to catch your eyes. You find nothing in them but concern and a soft emotion you couldn’t hope to pinpoint.

“Y/n,” He calls softly, “Y/n, do you mind if I touch you?” The gentleness he speaks to you with is devastating, like he’s trying to place your panicked mind on a cloud of care. You want so desperately to accept that care from him.

You nod, small jerky movements to indicate your agreement even as gasping sobs still stutter in your chest.

Changbin immediately moves, shuffling closer to you on his knees and releasing the wrist of your hand, the one still grasping at his mark like it’d disappear if you relaxed so much as a millimeter. He uncrosses his arms from the awkward reach he’d had to use to maneuver your hands where he wanted them, and reaches his now free hand to rest gently but firmly on your waist, right over his place within your own mark.

The resonance from his touch is weaker, the material of your shirt in his way, but with both sides active the feeling floods you in a way you could never describe.

You know, in the back of your mind, that you’ve read about resonance before. That you know all about the flood of endorphins and other feel-good hormones that it causes, that you’ve read first hand accounts from all sorts of people swearing up and down it feels better than any orgasm ever could. In the moment though, you feel like your brain has been reset completely. Back to factory settings, entirely blank.

You come back to yourself in slow blinks, resonance still echoing brightly between you and Changbin. Your one hand is still tightly clasped to his chest, and you’re sure you’re only breathing right now due to the steady rise and fall of Changbin’s chest. The two of you are still gripping each other’s marks.

You feel unsettled as awareness returns to your body. You feel floaty and not all there, even as you calm enough to feel the numbness of your legs and the pain in your knees from hitting the floor. An increasingly familiar tingling feeling is emanating from each of your active soulmarks, despite the fact that you know the other two should have no idea how you’re feeling right now.

Your bond wasn’t strong enough for that. You hadn’t given it the chance to be.

The thought that they might just be thinking of you gives you a soft and fluttery sort of feeling.

Finally, Changbin pulls back, removing his hand from your mark and sliding up your arm to gently pry yours from his bicep. You’d wince at the marks your nails had left on his skin if you didn’t still feel like your bones were vibrating on the astral plane from the intensity of a reciprocal resonance.

He gently holds both of your hands in his and settles them between you, catching your eye again.

“You back with me, bubs?” He asks, smile light and tone even. You’d think him unaffected if not for the redness of his ears and the slight haze in his eyes.

Right. Eight soulmates. He’s probably used to it.

He’s also trying to get you down from a panic attack, you remember as your hands begin to faintly tremble in his grip. You nod slightly at his question, apologizing again.

“Hey, no.” Changbin scolds softly, eyes locked on yours, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, it’s okay. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You shake your head in refusal of both ideas, opening your mouth once, twice, three times, before huffing irritatedly at the lack of words falling from your lips. Changbin squeezes your hands to keep your attention on him, expression open and accepting. His silence allows yours to end.

“I just- It’s just that I-” You breathe harshly through your nose, squeezing his hands back to ground yourself, “I knew from when I realized who you were that you were my soulmate.” you grind out in halting words, the trembling spreading from your hands up to your chest. You take in a shuddering breath, “That’s why I was apologizing. Because I knew and I still said those things to you.”

You can tell your confession takes Changbin off guard. The man blinks rapidly as he takes in the new information, slotting your earlier behavior against your reaction just now and having trouble connecting them.

“Soulmates terrify me,” you confess quietly, before he can ask, “You’re so nice, but you’re so fucking scary to me, I’m sorry.”

With that, you remove your hands from his, and Changbin just sort of helplessly lets you go, a lost expression taking over his face. You try to stumble to your feet, and he scrambles up to help you, caring even through his confusion.

You can feel the trembling travel to your legs, and you’re glad for his steady hold despite yourself. You feel like a stiff breeze might knock you over.

“I need- I- I’ve gotta- argh!” You clench your teeth with frustration, taking a deep, bracing, breath, before trying again. “I need to go home.” You’d like to say it came out strong and self-assured, but the words leave you in a breathless whimper that makes you feel small and pathetic.

Everything about this makes you feel small and pathetic.

Changbin catches your eyes again, brows creased in concern.

Except for him.

“Of course, whatever you need,” He assures, “Can I call a car for you? A friend? Your roommate?”

You shake your head, hopelessly endeared by his need to help you. You feel guilty for refusing him when he’d just pivoted from the bombshell you’d dropped on him to focus on your care but you- you needed to go home. You needed to leave, and it was taking every ounce of effort you could spare to keep from bolting.

“No, I can- I’ve got- I want- shit.” The curse spills from you unbidden, frustration with the vestiges of your panic refusing to leave you building sharply. If anything, Changbin’s concern only grows deeper as you struggle to express yourself.

“I need to move, I’ll walk.” Your mouth finally allows you to spit out, almost aggressively. Changbin almost seems to despair at your declaration.

Looking at your own condition, you can’t blame him. Trembling like a leaf and barely able to speak, you’d never let yourself leave if you’d been in his place. You can’t spare the energy to explain that if anyone tried anything at you in this condition you’d probably try to kill them first and ask questions later.

You don’t handle stress well.

Still, despite his obvious reluctance, Changbin lets you leave his embrace.

You’re more stable on your feet now, and a deep breath fills you with a facade of confidence that will see you home. Changbin’s hands still hover around you, as if waiting for you to shatter apart again.

“If you need anything, please call me, okay? Anything at all, please call me.” He pleads with you. You only manage to give him another tiny nod before you dip into a full bow and turn to flee.

Changbin watches you go with a face full of concern and confusion.

‘I think it’d be worth the work, to be your soulmate’ he’d said. You can’t help but wonder, as the gym disappears behind you, if he still thinks that.

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[skeletonh0e]

Under his Spell

Similar to Fresh I noticed a STAGGERING lack of Nightmare smut so here I am yet again, plus I demand soft dom Nightmare. Fem Reader with she/her pronouns, AFAB anatomy. Implied that the reader and Nightmare are a thing already dating, but it's vague enough that you can interpret their relationship however. Hypnosis, power play, overstimulation, praise kink + minor degradation, some possessiveness, tentacles (obviously), minor size kink if you squint ig. Everything is consensual but due to the nature of hypno kinks there are some dub con elements so continue cautiously if that's not your thing. I wrote this at the spur of a moment so again apologies if there's more spelling errors than usual.

MINORS DNI

"You're certain you wish to do this?"

"Yes, c'mon, how many times do I have to tell you that I trust you?"

Another moment where Nightmare simply put, does not get you. No one in their right mind would put this much trust in him, he's not even sure if he trusts himself that much. Yet right now you might as well be putting out a steak on a silver platter to a very hungry wolf.

"Yes, but there is no going back once I start. You won't be able to say no." it's worded like a reprimand, squint and you miss maybe a hint of concern being shown for you. Your body endeared by it, but you knew better than to press it.

"I know. And. I. Trust. You." you assure, which while that statement was true you were honestly a bit intrigued by Nightmare's truly darker side. It was part of the reason it was so much fun to give him this level of control over you. "Don't tell me the great King of Negativity is being chicken."

"Ha, ha, ha, you know better than to mock me." a deep breath is taken, if all apprehensions are put aside. "Very well, ready then?"

You nod, "Always."

He grips your chin, it's firm enough to guide your face to keep your gaze directly focused on him but gentle enough you could break through it if you wanted to. Not that you did. "Keep your eyes on me," he instructed, that single cyan pupil starting to radiate a strange energy. His magic was always so strange to you, you couldn't even try to understand it, but damned if you didn't enjoy it's many perks.

It's hard to tell if it's simple the effects coming in full force or if the eye actually changes shape as it seems to shift into a delicious spiral. Your gaze is further fixating on it, waves of relaxation starting to hit your body.

"That's a good girl, submit." he assured, voice deliciously sweet right now.

And your utter submission he had.

Your eyes became hazy, your entire body slumping as all tension soon leaves your form. Any noisy thoughts that left your brain instantly shushed, only thing you could focus on what his eye and his voice.

"You make it so easy for me," he cooed, the sight of you like this was always an engaging one. The way your mind went dumb, the way you looked at him, and the utter power he had over you was something else entirely. Tentacles start to snake across your form, your body pushed back onto the nearby bed as he takes his time in groping you. Looming over you the entire time, your eyes never once leaving his own. "I couldn't ask for a better plaything, now, could I? No one would be this good for me."

It's always amusing how red your face gets, doesn't seem to better how deep of a trance you're put in or how many times you two do this. You always get flustered. You weren't really properly dressed to begin with, pajamas loosely clanged to your form and his tendrils make sure to quickly dispose of your shirt. A sharp gasp escaping you as your bottoms were quickly worked to be removed, one of those black inky things accidentally brushing over your folds.

"No underwear at all?" he asked, clearly amused as the bottoms are dragged down your legs. "Really were eager tonight, weren't you pet?"

God damn that little nickname (or pet name you guessed would be more appropriate), you feel your hips trembling.

"Answer me." his tone was still dotting, but firmer this time.

"Yes." you answer, truthfully while you were like this he could ask you to bark then you'd do it. But this was the truth, you wanted this tonight. You didn't want to think about anything else. You wanted to be his little fuck doll tonight.

Nightmare took good care of his toys too, even when playing rough.

"Good girl," he hummed, your reward for that. "Now, keep being good for me and spread your legs."

You comply, several of his tentacles still on you but not quite gripping you though if Nightmare changed his mind he could easily have all of them restrain you in seconds. Your back naturally arches, your legs moving to either side of the mattress.

"Come now, wider, I want to see all of you."

You tremble, but comply. Your thighs flexing a bit, you move to further arch your hips as well. Nightmare clearly pleased with the sight.

"There we are, good girl, my good girl," there's almost a growl in his voice, lord above he'd kill anyone who'd ever even get close to seeing you like this. The display is utterly divine, you completely helpless underneath him, your pretty pink wet cunt on full display, and the sheer amount of control he has nearly makes him drunk.

The things he could do to you, the way you'd only be able to lay back and take it, the fact you'd all enjoy it too. He's already hard, he ignored the feeling of his erection before but it was impossible to do so now.

Clothes are being undone, but he keeps talking.

"So wet, all wet for me, how long were you thinking about this?"

You tremble, body needy but your mind utterly compliance. Couldn't even touch yourself, not unless he ordered you to. You had to be a good girl and wait. "A-All day," you admit.

"All day?" his chuckle echoes through the room, "You desperate little thing, what exactly were you hoping for? My cock inside you? My tentacles inside you? Or maybe you wanted me to abuse that pretty mouth of yours?"

"All of it." you rasped out, "All of it, all of it, all of it," you repeated dumbly.

He makes a sound akin to a tsk, it would have embarrassed you if you weren't so utterly wrapped up in this trance right now. "My slutty little plaything, what am I going to do with you?"

It's a trick question, he has concocted several plans in his mind for tonight. It's unclear where it'll end but it'll start here for sure, you feel something hard press against your needy entrance. You know what it is. You know what's about to happen. And the way your insides twist with pure need.

That's when he whispers devilishly in your ear, "While I figure that out, what you're going to do is scream nice and loud for me. Don't you even think about holding back. Got?"

Sure, his servants and underlings might hear but honestly? Good. The one thing that should definitely come out of these sessions was the undeniable claim he had over you. How good he could pleasure you. How much control he had and would continue to have over you. His.

"Yes sir," you uttered out, never one to bother with overly formal titles but that went out the window when you were like this.

"Good girl." that was all the warning you got before he slammed into you full force. The tentacles no longer being lax in their hold as they clamp down on you, restraining your body not only preventing you from being able to squirm much but as well as raising you up in the air slightly.

The scream you make as your pussy is violently intruded is loud, painfully lewd sounding. He was big, not to the point that taking him was painful (your natural arousal prevented that for the most part anyway), but the way he stretched you out was always so intoxicating. Especially when he got all rough like this. Your pussy barely having time to adjust before the tentacles pulled you back then slammed you back down on his cock. Nightmare synchronizing his thrusts with the way you were repeatedly through down on his thick shaft.

Your mewls and moans are loud. Nightmare lets out a series of soft grunts, voice always managing to sound so composed even as he breaks you on his cock. "Fuuuuck you're always so nice and tight for me, perhaps I should keep you here? My personal pleasure toy to use whenever, wouldn't even have to bother keeping you restrained. Because-"

A series of particularly harsh thrusts come, one making you see stars as it perfectly hit your g-spot. You highly doubt it was coincidence either, Nightmare mapped out every inch of your body by now. "-you wouldn't be able to walk from everything I've done to you."

You definitely won't be able in the morning, a problem for another day. You cry out in pleasure, but your body's response keeps him all the confirmation that he needs. The way your little pussy clenches around him briefly at the mention of those words.

"Such a good girl," he purrs, he takes a moment, only a moment to rearrange himself before thrusting himself in again at the same rapid pace. This time hitting your g-spot maliciously with each hard thrust and the scream that it earns while you yell out his name is music to his non-existent ears. You writhe around, as much as you're allowed to like this. It was by instinct then by anything else, the intensity quickly overwhelming your senses as-

"Now, now, I said no holding back." It would have been frustrating how composed he remained if it also wasn't so fucking arousing. "Cum for me."

You're not given much of a choice, especially as you're slammed down and the way the head of cock hits your g-spot full force sends you over the edge. You scream out his name again, your orgasm hitting you violently. Your cunt attempts to milk Nightmare dry for all he's worth as he just keeps going, your fluids practically baptizing his shaft.

A groan does escape him, feeling you perfectly you squeeze him. It only encourages him to make you keep doing it, speed and intensity increasing. Tentacles still keep you in place but some taking stride to grope you. Nightmare's hand going to pinch your clit as he keeps his movements up.

"Again," he demands, the reckless abandon as his thrusts being further empathized by just how oversensitive it is. Not even being given a chance to recover, the only thing you can do is whine. "Good little toys do as their told and I want you to cum again, you will cum again."

And you do. The words, his thrusts, his movements, you scream again as another orgasm rocks through you. You can swear it feels like the room is staring to spin and it's an utterly amazing feeling.

"That's it, just like that, that's it, good girl. My good little cocksleeve, fuck-" he's not gonna last long if he keeps this up. Not that he plans to stop this at one round, far from that. However, he wants to full you cum on his cock one more time before he does. "Who do you belong to?"

"Y-You."

"Stop holding back, don't make me tell you again. Say it, who do you belong to?"

"YOU!" you scream.

"Say my name."

"NIGHTMARE! I BELONG TO YOU NIGHTMARE! I-"

There's a surprisingly low sounding moan as you cum against, especially as a near feral growls erupts out of Nightmare as he finishes inside you. The fingers pinching your cilt nearly painful as he prolongs the feeling, his hips giving a few sputtering thrusts both to make sure he gives you every last drop and fuck his own seed deeper into you.

It takes him a moment before he speaks again, instead opting to simply play with your clit. No longer pinching it, but instead slowly rolling his thumb over it. You're so overstimulated and lost in the pleasure you might just cum a fourth time from the simple movements. But he doesn't you to, not just yet anyway.

And your body has to comply.

He stops and pulls out, his tentacles shifting you so that your chest is pressed right onto the bed beneath you and your ass is in the air right on display for him. The entity giving it as a hard smack as he does so, it stings and is sure to leave a mark.

"Hope you didn't think you'd get off so easily pet,"

You didn't. You actually hoped it didn't. But you simply whimper pathetically underneath him, as you feel him lining up with your entrance again. Some of his cum trickling down your tights, hands firmly on your ass. It's unclear whether he plans to insert anything in there or simply smack then watch it bounce as he rails into it again. Doesn't matter, not up to you right now anyway.

"Ready?" he knows the answer, doesn't change the fact he loves hearing your response.

"Always."

[the-moon-lullaby]

i am so glad you are back! i really missed your headcanons. I would like to make a request, do you have any hcs for Nath in UL? ^^

Nathaniel UL Headcanons (Filling the Gap between HSL and UL)

N/A : Hey dear ! Took so long for that request because somehow it showed at the bottom of the request box. Since you've been vague enough, I took the freedom to write about Nathaniel in UL before Candy's return (I feel like this part and his transformation have been really looked over in the game). I am working on prompts (whenever I get time) about the LI in UL so unless the request is about a specific situation, I keep the headcanons for these little one-shots. Hope you like it darling !

Let’s set the bases with where we left off in HSL

• Candy helped him get emancipated, as we know but it’s also the first time he truly takes control of his life. This was like a major milestone in his life.

• Even though he’s free from him, the damage done by his father persists (as we see during graduation day in HSL). Nathaniel still carries the pressure, the expectations, and the anger.

• He moves into his own small apartment and gets Blanche.

• At this point, he still works hard in school, but there’s a weight lifting off his shoulders.

• He graduates with excellent grades, valedictorian, great motivational speech, but he feels strangely empty.

• With no father to fear and no academic chains holding him down, he realises: "I don’t know who I am without all of this." And that’s when he doesn’t apply for business school or anything like that but he applies for something the actually cares about : literature.

• He’s accepted into Anteros Academy, and he tells himself that college will be a fresh start.

• He cuts his hair shorter, trades his button-ups for casual shirts and jackets. He’s a new man really.

• And everyone from high school (Alexy, Rosa, Priya, even Castiel) assumes he’s finally free from his chains.  But Nathaniel has never felt more lost.

⸻

Year 1 of UL : The Breakup & The Downward Spiral Begins

The Long-Distance relationship (the fail of the year) 

• Candy and Nathaniel start university still together.

• He tries so hard to keep things normal, to not worry her, to act like he’s doing fine on his own.

• But he isn’t. He’s struggling, feeling isolated, and the pressure is still crushing him.

• He doesn’t talk about it. He convinces himself: « She has her own life now. She doesn’t need to hear me complain in addition to it. »

• Every phone call becomes shorter, emptier. Messages go unanswered for longer. Nathaniel starts feeling like he’s losing her. But he doesn’t really tries to hold onto her. He starts to feel like it’s pointless. 

 The Breakup (during pre-exam season because I’m horrible)

• Candy brings up how different things feel between them.

• Nathaniel hates where the conversation is going but doesn’t fight it.

• When she says « Maybe we should take a break » he just accepts it.

• Candy was expecting a reaction—something, anything. But Nathaniel just answers with « If that’s what you want. »

• He doesn’t say he’s hurting. He doesn’t say he’s scared. He just lets her go. But that night, he stares at his phone, reading old messages.

• And he doesn’t text her. He doesn’t call. He tells himself « This is fine. »

• If he doesn’t acknowledge the pain, maybe it won’t exist.

• But the consequences of this breakup are impossible to avoid : it’s really sad  but Candy was the only person he ever truly let in (Armin was the second but it’s different). And now? She’s gone.

• After everything that happened with his family, his mind makes the shortcuts on its own :  « Being vulnerable means getting hurt. » Or  « If I let someone in, they will leave me. »

• So he stops letting people in, period.

He’s so emotionally unavailable at this point, like don’t even try. 

• He doesn’t start seeing other people right away but at some point it happens (I mean he’s a brooding handsome blonde, of course he draws attention c’mon) but iIf a girl starts getting attached, he shuts it down.

• The moment a girl says « I like you » or asks him personal questions, he’s done.

• Melody learns this the hard way. She tries to understand him, to fix him (I just know this girl didn’t drop it in college and when she heard he was single again, she gave it another go)

• But he shuts her down so brutally that she never tries again. She’s bitter about it, and they never speak again (fucking finally).

• He starts gaining a reputation as someone who is cold, distant.

⸻

Year 2 of UL :  The Turning Point (where it goes wrong)

• Nathaniel has been feeling off for months, he just feels numb. Nothing went the way he wanted and his college years were not the new beginning he expected. He almost feels that it’s even worst than high school (because this time, he doesn’t even have a goal and certainly not one as simple as getting good grades and fill up paperwork for Mrs Shermansky)

• Which is why, after months of repressing everything, he snaps.

• He gets into his first fight at a party (Kim invites him to one as it was thrown by the sport club of Anteros, where a friend of hers is a member of) and it isn’t just about the drunk guy who provoked him.

• It’s about his father, his past, and every feeling he buried. Kim has front row seat to his crash out. But so do Alexy, Rosalya and Priya.

• He’s never felt anything like this before. There’s a thrill, the rush of finally fighting back. He feels guilty when he realises it but he wants to feel it again (it is the first time he’s felt something real in months)

• Some people are repulsed by his behaviour, some don’t understand it (like the old crew). Some guys, however, are impressed. And that’s how the mess starts (because I hate how the og script based all of his arc on some bad meeting in an alley, it seems too « easy » idk)

• Word spreads fast. He starts getting invites to more parties, meeting people who aren’t exactly students. The guys he meets are street-smart, reckless, and shady.

• They introduce him to gambling or other stuff, and eventually the world of small-time crime (and easy money).

• He starts running "small favours" for them (carrying things, keeping an eye on situations) He finds control in chaos.

• Unlike his family, unlike Candy, unlike his old friends, these people don’t expect him to be « good » (which he believes he isn't or not enough). They only expect him to be useful. And for the first time, he feels like he belongs somewhere.

• His fights become frequent (sometimes on campus), but strategic. He doesn’t fight just for the thrill anymore. He fights to prove something.

• His grades start slipping, but he doesn’t care.

• Girls start paying more attention to him, and he quickly realises: he can have anyone he wants. Even if it’s just for the night.

• Alexy, Rosalya, and Priya notice the change. He’s quieter, colder, and more distant. That’s when they start distancing themselves from him.

⸻

Year 3 of UL : The Repercussions and Playboy Era

• Alexy and Rosalya have officially given up on him. Priya still wants to believe he’ll come back to his senses. 

• But he sees the way they avoid him on campus, the way they whisper when he walks by. Even Castiel’s look on him as change : it’s still sheer distaste and condescension but also something that vaguely looks like worry.

• He doesn’t care. (He does, but he pretends not to. He’s burned too many bridges.)

• Nathaniel proves himself to the shady guys he’s running with.

• He’s not just some dumb fighter, he’s smarter than this. He helps them plan better, avoid cops, and move things more discreetly. He likes the power and control he has over people now just as much as he enjoys the adrenaline rushes. 

• But at the same time, he knows he’s in too deep and it starts to scare him a bit.

• He argues with his mother over Amber’s health. He tells her she’s failing both her kids. The argument ends badly. His mother stops sending him money.

• Nathaniel officially cuts ties with his family (except for Amber).

• Kim is the only person he has left. She’s the only person he trusts. (And by association, Violette too, but she’s a bit scared of him even though she doesn’t believe he’s a bad person)

• He crashes at her place often, sometimes covered in bruises, sometimes just exhausted. She doesn’t push, doesn’t judge but she also doesn’t pity him.

• She reminds him of who he was before everything went to shit.

• By this point, most girls on campus know what he’s like. But some still try. They think they’ll be the one to fix him.

• They’re wrong (and they ended up heartbroken or ghosted, often both)

⸻

Year 4 of UL : Candy’s Return

• His reputation is set in stone now : He’s now known as a troublemaker. Even professors keep an eye on him (even though he hardly ever goes on campus if not for his frequent hookups) 

• The thrill of his activities isn’t enough anymore. His job is keeping him busy, but he feels hollow.

• But he keeps going because what else is there to do? What’s the point in doing anything else when everyone already turned their back on him ?

• When he sees Candy is that alley, he doesn’t expect her. He isn’t prepared. And when he sees her, it hits him like a punch to the gut. Especially in such circumstances (being harassed by two guys he knows and works with)

• He plays it cool. He smirks, acts like nothing’s changed (but he feels like he’s about to crash out). A part of him wants to push her away immediately. The other part? Wants her to stay.

• But he knows if she stays, she might see through him. And if she sees through him, she’ll see what he’s become. And he doesn’t want her to look at him like she’s disappointed.

• Alexy and Rosalya warn Candy about Nathaniel. They tell her he’s not the person she knew. Kim doesn’t warn her, but she tells Candy: “If you’re going to talk to him, don’t expect the boy from high school.” And he sure isn’t.

I think that it would have been great to explore more what happened to Nathaniel during that time (especially if he was Candy’s LI). Their breakup wasn’t just an emotional loss but also a trigger (even if she was just a friend too). Nathaniel’s entire spiral clearly comes from a fear of being vulnerable (which lead to being emotionally constipated), a need for control (which leads to fights, crime, and reckless behaviour) and a desire to be needed & respected (which makes him seek validation in all the wrong places). Perhaps seasons this with a bit of fear of abandonment and you got the perfect angsty love story with an emotionally unavailable blonde. Anyway, I hoped you liked this (I literally tried to go psychologist mode on this one, so I hope it's not too biased but yeah, I think it's easy to tell I really liked Nathaniel character and quite thought about it) <3

[stagefoureddiediaz]

do you have any thoughts on buck’s costuming from the stills and bts that dropped today for 8x11? specifically the brown plaid and the black + tan from the scene in maddie’s kitchen where aisha is directing him?

Hey Nonnie

I have so so many thoughts that I am struggling to form coherent sentences - but I’ll give it a go!

So we have the brown plaid - with the break up green tee. The orangey brown plaid (because it isn’t actually straight brown, it’s orange and brown in a twill weave that makes it look more brown!) with t e green orange purple and white plaid lines, obviously fits in with check theory and that meaning things are not gonna go all that well for Buck - that he’s going to get himself into a less than fun situation! It also plays into the orange and brown theming we’ve seen as an overall colour theme for the season. I wrote about the meanings of the two colours in my previous metas, and this season we have seen Buck in far more brown and orange than ever before - and the browns are nearly always orange toned. Orange can be an uplifting colour - positive, creative and enthusiastic and can suggest transformation. But it can also be superficial, impatient and insincere. Brown is a colour that is stable and reliable, representing the idea of being grounded. But it can also be seen as dull and boring, predictable and conservative, as well as being considered a symbol of loneliness, isolation and sadness.

All of these are things that apply to Buck and are things I think we’ll see at play in this scene - his loneliness over Eddie being gone - feeling isolated - especially because he’s now surrounded by couples with families and has not really got any other friends - hence the going out to find new ones as we were told in the synopsis - which plays into the idea of optimism. I do suspect that this scene will have implications and undertones of Bucks heart not really being in it and his efforts therefore being insincere and superficial, but I also think that it is about setting him up for growth - for transformation and for him becoming grounded - how exactly we get there I don’t know, but I think the tequila shots on the table are an indication of Buck getting drunk - doing something stupid that will lead to him having to actually address a few things!

The lighting is a bit interesting, so I can’t be sure if it is the same tee or if its a lighter one - that is more sagey/mossy green - I need to see more of it than we get in this still to be sure. Either way, its a green tee that is very similar to the green tee he was wearing when Tommy broke up with him, so I am fully expecting it to be playing into that in some way - especially because we’ve seen the colour green being used on Buck to really play into that theme of abandonment that so heavily runs throughout his story and one that is being heavily explored this season especially. From the brown hand towards the bottom of the picture I am also assuming Ravi is there with him - I’ve written before about Ravi being a physical manifestation/ representation of Bucks abandonment issues so this scene is likely to heavily play on this theme and really start exploring it - I’m expecting this scene to feature Buck talking to Ravi about feeling lost and alone - feeling lonely and I’m not going to lie - I’m hoping were going to start to see his feelings realisation spiral really kick into gear!

Oliver has spoken about Buck being ‘forced to face himself in a way he didn’t expect to’ and ‘to really have to look within and see what his truths really are’ and I think this outfit is a key part of setting him on that path so I very much am expecting it to be a key scene.

He’s also not wearing a watch in this still, so the concept of time and not having any is in play (I will get my watches and Buddie meta written very soon I promise!) I’m looking forward to seeing how much watch wearing outside of work we get over the next few episodes - but this scene at least is following up the goodbye in the rain scene and not having him wearing one!

There is also another plaid shirt we saw him in in a bts picture - its one of Olivers black and white ones, so it’s very hard to make a full judgement on it - as we don’t have colours to go off - it could be a black or grey shirt, or it could be blues or greens - its impossible to tell - I also have no idea where he’s wearing it - but it does appear to have a white tee underneath it (although again it could be pale pink or yellow or something so I’m not committing to it being white), so we have a second outing for check theory and buck in white shirts theory is also potentially in play. Its making me think the brown plaid from the still and this other plaid shirt from the other bts below will be interconnected in some way - that the scenes they are worn in will be part of a bigger plot point for Buck - my personal theory is that they are both about is abandonment spiral and that its about showing him really going through it and struggling with things - having him in more and more check patterning until he reaches a point where he actually has no choice but to deal with all these emotions that have been stirred up to the surface by Eddie’s departure, Maddie being kidnapped and even by Tommy dumping him etc.

Finally we have this black tee beige pants combo with white trainers and no watch at Madney’s house. Not going to lie - I’m kind of the most obsessed with this if it is a full costume choice and not Oliver half in Buck half himself - which is possible! If it is a full costume then that tee is so good and clever and add in in the context of it being worn in Madney’s house and its making me a bit giddy!

For starters - no watch -again!!! It might be an episode where we don’t see him in a watch outside of work (again there could be one on the other wrist we cant see but that’s the wrong wrist so I very much doubt it!)- and that is all kinds of telling because it will be directly connected into Eddies leaving. There is also the white trainers - white trainers on Buck means its a scene about his personal journey and not about other peoples - when he wears black shoes (or as of the last episode - grey ones!) so this will likely be a Buck centric scene rather than a Maddie or Chim one.

The black tee itself is simple and has a white logo on front and back. There are a lot of meanings to black - sophistication, mystery, power, mourning, strength, authority, depression, fear, intimidation, and my personal favourite - the hiding of vulnerabilities. It’s that last one that I think we’ll see at play in this scene - I am making the assumption it will be a scene between siblings and not between Buck and Chim (partly because the pink markers are for Jen) and whenever we get a Buck at Maddies house scene, they are generally about him and an emotional spiral of some kind tht he’s in. So I am expecting more of the same here - that it is going to be Buck trying to make sense of things he’s got going on, whilst also trying to hide his vulnerabilities from Maddie.

Then there is the logo - which is two dice - the implication is gambling - which aside from the connection to the poker game back in season 6, is also about the idea of rolling the dice and bringing fate, chance and fortune into play, that your fate or fortune can be changed on the roll of the dice. There is the symbolic meaning of dice representing a means of control - or at least the illusion of it or a pair of dice can also mean that a risk will pay off if met with bravery and optimism. With all this in mind, it seems a fair assumption that whatever it is Buck and Maddie are talking about, it will centre around Buck needing to take a risk becasue it will pay off if he can be brave, and that fate is intervening in his life and he needs to follow its lead!

All in all I am excited to see how these scenes play out - the costumes and colours used are all hinting at Buck’s spiral really kicking into gear and I think we’ll be getting to see Buck having to really look inwards and face himself and the reality of things in his life - that he’s going to have to go more than surface deep and that will and set his path for 8x12 onwards!

Hope this is informative Nonnie and that you’re as excited as I am for this episode! 💜💜💜

[lightningant]

Do you think Draco “redeemed himself” in the canon books successfully?

No. Part of why he is so insufferable to me is that he doesn't really get an arc. He's an annoying little twerp who exists to fluster the golden trio, fails to be an enemy, catches Dead Godfather Strays in book 6, gets cut to ribbons after crying in the bathroom and Harry does not give even half a fuck about it (lol), vanishes from the plot until he decides to not foil Harry in a meaningfully malicious way, and proceeds through the rest as a background character who experiences no strife or comeuppance or really any expression of conflict at all. Life sucks and then he got out of it. Even his parents got out of it. He doesn't have any relationship with his godfather, it turns out he doesn't have a relationship with literally any of his Slytherin cronies, he is Regulus-esque in the worthlessness of his existence. People calling Drarry enemies-to-lovers read a very different book because Draco was crawling on the floor licking the lino for crumbs of a rivals-to-lovers and still failing. I repeat, Harry's godfather had to die for him to get any attention, and it's pure displaced rage so Harry is not in the mood to entertain Draco's crushing despair. It's almost comedic how little narrative structure is put into his presence. Apparently the leading theory is because Joanne was pissed girls liked him, and I must say: lmfao.

Draco's most redeeming roles are:

Bouncing another death eater kid who is going through the same shit but is actually experiencing pathos (Draco & Theo)

Rivals with a character who has the energy for him (Draco and Ron, maybe Draco and Zabini who manages to be successfully untouchable through the whole story, which is iconic of him)

Comedic relief (mersnake AU where he is inviting himself into Romione's marriage)

That's right. Your resident "this could have been a platonic character study" aromantic is reporting in, he's not even good for humanizing Snape. HIS GODFATHER! Yessiree folks a prime red flag that a Severitus fic is going to be OOC is the mere presence of Draco Malfoy. We are truly scraping the bottom of the barrel here, some never-before-seen mediocrity!

Well. In short I don't like him, so I am unwilling to be flexible on what could improve his character. A huge improvement to Draco Malfoy would be killing him off at the end of Book 6 to snap Harry out of displacing his feelings onto others and give Snape a good satisfying death spiral to keep him busy.

[domm1etae]

Rings of Desire

yunho x mingi

oneshot | mdni

880 words

Yunho gets obsessed with the idea of Mingi jerking him off while still wearing his rings, and when they finally try it, the combination of cool metal and rough hands drives Yunho wild

nsfw tags under

m/m, top mingi, bottom yunho, masturbation, hand kink, rings on

author's note: just a small yungi drabble because GOD DAYUM I LOVE MINGIS HANDS AND HIS RINGS, I AM READY TO RISK IT ALL FOR THAT MAN

Yunho couldn’t stop thinking about Mingi. The thoughts invaded his mind like an obsession, creeping in at the most unexpected times. It wasn’t just Mingi’s presence that occupied Yunho's thoughts—it was his hands. Those big, rough hands, capable of being so gentle yet undeniably strong. Yunho found himself fixated on the idea of those hands wrapped around his cock, imagining how the roughness of Mingi’s calloused skin would feel against his most sensitive parts. But it wasn’t just that. It was the thought of Mingi still wearing his rings while doing it.

Those rings were a part of Mingi, almost as much as the man himself. They adorned his fingers almost every day—silver bands, some smooth and polished, others rugged with intricate designs, and a few with small, dark gems embedded in the metal. The image of Mingi’s rings combined with the texture of his hands became an idea that Yunho couldn’t shake. It was all he thought about, all he fantasized about, to the point where it consumed him.

He would imagine it late at night when he was alone, his thoughts spiraling as he touched himself, but it was never enough. The thought of the cold metal pressing against his heated flesh, the contrast of the silver against his skin, mixed with the warmth and roughness of Mingi’s hand, drove him wild. He craved it, wanted it so badly that it became a nearly unbearable need.

So, when a casual, friendly kiss between them one day turned into something more, Yunho didn’t hesitate. The kiss deepened, their tongues tangling in a way that was both familiar and electrifying. It wasn’t long before the heat between them escalated, their breaths mingling as they pressed closer together. Yunho could feel Mingi’s desire, could sense the urgency in his movements as he started to fumble with Yunho’s zipper, his hands trembling with want.

But just as Mingi started to slip off his rings, out of habit, Yunho’s hand shot out to stop him. His fingers wrapped around Mingi’s wrist, halting his movements. Mingi looked at him in confusion, his brow furrowing. He always took his rings off when they got intimate, a ritual of sorts that was almost second nature to him. But Yunho, his heart pounding in his chest, shook his head and whispered in a voice thick with anticipation, telling Mingi to keep them on.

Mingi stared at him for a moment, searching Yunho’s face for any sign of hesitation. But when he saw the intensity in Yunho’s eyes, the desire practically radiating off him, Mingi just shrugged and nodded, deciding to go with it. He continued to tug at Yunho's pants, pulling them down far enough to expose his aching erection.

When Mingi’s fingers finally wrapped around Yunho’s shaft, the sensation hit him like a freight train. The cold touch of the silver rings, stark against the heat of his skin, combined with the rough, calloused texture of Mingi’s hand, was even better than Yunho had imagined. His breath hitched, his body reacting instantly as he bucked his hips, thrusting into Mingi’s grip, desperate for more of that intoxicating contrast.

Mingi’s hand moved with a steady, confident rhythm, his grip tightening just enough to drive Yunho crazy. Yunho could feel the coolness of the rings sliding along his length, the metal almost biting into his skin with every stroke. And then, there was the sensation of the tiny gems on one of the rings, pressing into his flesh, creating a delicious friction that Yunho had never experienced before. It was almost too much, the sensations overwhelming him as he teetered on the edge of ecstasy.

Yunho’s head spun, his mind going blank as all he could focus on was the feeling of Mingi’s hand, the rings, the roughness, the cold metal. He was completely lost in it, thrusting into Mingi’s hand with a desperate need, chasing that high. And then, just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, Mingi tightened his grip even more, and Yunho felt the gems dig into him, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight through him.

That was it. Yunho couldn’t hold back any longer. He came hard, his orgasm ripping through him with a force that left him shaking. For a moment, everything else ceased to exist—there was only the overwhelming pleasure, the feeling of Mingi’s hand, and the cold touch of the rings.

After it was over, they lay together, both catching their breath. Mingi glanced down at his hand, now sticky with Yunho’s release, and clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. He looked at Yunho, a mock scolding in his eyes, and told him off for cumming all over his rings, saying that they might be ruined now.

Yunho, still breathless and completely satisfied, just chuckled softly. He looked at Mingi with a lazy grin and told him not to worry—that he’d buy him new ones if these were ruined, even though they both knew that any new rings would probably meet the same fate. The thought of doing it all over again, with new rings, new sensations, and the same overwhelming pleasure, made Yunho’s heart race with anticipation. It was an experience he was eager to repeat, something that had surpassed even his wildest fantasies.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hiya! Hope you’re havin a good day! Adore your writing, so mayhaps I can make a humble request of ye?

I was thinking, top hero x bottom villain where the villain is big n kinda scary — they’re silent, cold, intimidating, all that jazz — but then the hero accidentally does something intimate (like, maybe they kiss them, or the two get in a ✨ scandalous position ✨) and they’re a bit worried about how the other is gonna react. Then it’s revealed the “big bad” villain is just a shy, sweet, needy little thing, who begs them to finish what they started >////< Cue the hero taking full advantage, hehe ;)

Generous helping of da spicy, thank you! ^^

“I’m supposed to be married tonight.”

“Oh?” The hero grabbed the villain’s hand and turned it around as they studied the golden ring. “I wasn’t invited to the wedding? What a shame.”

Although their voice was drenched in fake annoyance, they grinned mercilessly at the villain. The villain who was all dressed up, basically embed in filthy rich clothes. The villain who was as observant as ever.

The villain who’d probably get their hands dirty later.

Although the hero was fully aware that their nemesis was stalking their prey before they bit down into bone, it was probably better for everyone involved if the villain spent more time with their nemesis.

The hero had always considered it a curse. The villain took what they wanted and they always prioritised their own plans. They were, in some sense, the most hard-working person the hero knew.

“You know there was no wedding,” the villain said, lowering their voice. “Nonetheless, you should keep your distance.”

“Why on earth would you think that I am going to sabotage your marriage?” The hero took another step closer and let their fingertips ghost over the villain’s wrists. Their eyes were fixed on the ring.

Admittedly, they felt some kind of possessiveness deep in their stomach.

True love was something they couldn’t afford and they caught themselves being jealous of married couples quite often.

Nevertheless, they pulled themselves out of that thought spiral and flashed a grin at the villain.

“I’m not married,” the villain hissed. Their ears were red. How adorable.

“You just told me you are.”

“Fucking—” The villain took in a deep breath and grabbed the hero’s arm. Without giving themselves a second chance to think about it, they pulled the hero away from all the people who were already staring at them. They managed to find some quiet and dark corner, far away from the crowd at the exhibition. “—you know that’s part of my plan.”

“Oh, so you got married for a plan?” Was the hero playing with fire? Undoubtedly. Did they like the thrill of it? Of course they did.

The exhibition was something the hero attended voluntarily. Most of the time, art provoked other people or even connected them. The hero didn’t like the idea of mainly rich people doing their business in a museum.

So, meeting the villain here was a fresh relief. Their sweet, sweet villain who loved to punch answers out of people.

The hero knew they still had a bunch of work in front of them.

“Do you want me to spell it for you?” The villain looked down at them and the hero had to admit it. Their nemesis was scary. They looked scary. With a stern look and a terrifyingly strong body, they made the hero feel weaker than they actually were.

But at the same time, the hero felt protected by them. They’d been through too much bullshit together. They’d saved each other too many times.

“Explain it,” the hero whispered.

The villain looked around, grumpy as always. A scary frown on their forehead. The hero loved to rile them up a little, especially when the villain was the jealous sort of type that wanted the hero to know they were available.

Obviously the villain didn’t know they were that type of person yet. But the hero did.

“I am supposed to be married to the other villain tonight. As a cover. It would probably be best if you didn't interfere. They do get quite angry.”

“Would you just stand there and watch? If they found out I was having a little fun with you?” The hero turned away from them and stared at the exhibition from afar. The paintings and sculptures were striking. No wonder they were so popular.

“What? Of course not,” the villain said. Something in their voice had changed. “I know you can take care of yourself, though.”

“Hm.” The hero leaned back, pressing their body against the villain’s and to their surprise, their nemesis let out something like a laugh or sigh and grabbed their waist.

“What are you doing?” they whispered in the hero’s ear. They sounded quite helpless and the hero only smiled as they pressed their back against the villain’s chest. Maybe it was cruel of them to tease the villain like this. Maybe it was mean to push their hips against theirs.

But the wedding ring was bothering the hero quite a bit, even though it was fake.

“Oh, you know…” The hero grabbed the villain’s left hand, found the ring and pulled it off their finger. “I’m just making sure you know whom you belong to.”

They turned their head to kiss the villain’s jawline.

“You…” the villain whispered. They seemed utterly desperate and the hero couldn’t for the life of them explain why.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never been with anyone before, hm?” the hero asked. They let their breath ghost over their enemy’s neck and the villain froze.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Always.”

“Something very vulnerable?” the villain asked. Now it was the hero’s turn to freeze. Immediately, their heart started racing.

Was the villain actually opening up? To them?

After all this time?

Their hand around the hero’s was cold and they did seem quite startled. The hero had to admit, they’d never been this bold before. Touching and flirting with the villain like this was dangerously intimate.

Maybe they’d fucked up.

“Of course,” they said. It felt like they’d been holding their breath for forever. They couldn’t let their own jealousness get in the way of this…relationship.

Despite being unbelievably powerful, the villain was also reasonable. The hero liked them and they didn’t want to make them feel miserable.

“…I’ve been with a bunch of people for the sake of my plans…I actually lost my virginity like that.”

The hero’s eyes widened.

“Because you needed to sleep with someone?!”

“Because I needed information, yeah. Sometimes I’m not sure if I used them or if they used me. I…I did some things I’m not comfortable with to get intel.” The villain was quiet and the hero turned around fully. They wanted to put a little bit of distance between them but the villain’s hands were still on their waist. “That’s why…it’s a little difficult for me, I suppose. But if you really like me and if you would like to and could help me, maybe I…”

“What do you need?” the hero asked. They’d never considered this to be the reason why the villain distanced themselves from everyone.

The villain seemed so huge, so strong, as if they could say no to anything. As if they could never get hurt.

“I need you to continue. I need you to take care of me. I really really like you and I’d like to change.”

The hero hadn’t expected that. They swallowed. This seemed like a lot of responsibility to carry but, honestly, they were used to that by now, weren’t they?

They gave the villain the second keycard to their hotel room.

“Room 241,” they said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Apparently, there was no need to be jealous.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

I imagine that Sea Grunk Ford snaps out of his panic attack when Cat Verse Stan lays in his lap and starts purring, but stays jittery. And argues with CV Stan, who's still a cat. SG Ford knows his brother's different tones, CV Stan is like a younger relative, and SG Ford is less likely to handle situations like a wet cat.

CV Stan is just glad that they're so high up on the tree - nope, not thinking about the height! - that nobody on the forest floor can hear this bizarre conversation.

SG Ford: I don't speak cat body language that well, but even I know I'm doing something wrong.

CV Stan: *lying* What, it's only petting! Come on, continue, I still can feel you shaking like a leaf.

SG Ford: *eyes narrowing dangerously* You're currently a cat, and you and my brother are different people. But I know how he sounds like when he tries to spare my feelings while he's being uncomfortable. You did the same when you tripped yesterday. You hurt your foot worse than you admitted to your brother.

CV Stan: *is about to rebutt with another vehement meow*

SG Ford: *raises eyebrows and lists more examples*

CV Stan: *now would be sweating bullets if he was human*

SG Ford: I won't tell you brother, I swear on it. But that's a conversation you still need to have with him.

CV Stan: *slumps in relief*

SG Ford: If I am to calm down, it'll happen faster when I know that you're comfortable. Or under much less strain, at the least. You're a person I care about - bup, bup, bup, I'm still a shit liar when it comes to interpersonal matters! You said it yourself!

And I'll start self-blaming and going tense again if I'm thinking I'm hurting you, and nobody wants that.

CV Stan: Yeah, no thanks. Recognizing my Ford in how you panicked was awful.

SG Ford: So. You're going to show me the correct way how to pet a cat - the cat being you -, and I'm going to do my best not to spiral again. Then we both can go down this tree. Does that work for you?

*offers two of his pinkies*

CV Stan: You're a damn menace. Blackmailing a younger version of your own brother with knowledge about yourself. I can see how you and Lee are twins.

But fine, let's do a damn pinkie promise. *baps pinkies with his paw*

SG Ford: Thank you. No really, thank you for this. *face softens and he smiles, palm hovering* Now, would you start your showcase?

CV Stan refuses to think about why he feels warm. Or feeling warmer when SG Ford does as he promised and follows his lead, making Stan go boneles as he quickly figures out the best spots on his cat body, while SG Ford finally relaxes against him.

(He's not going to think yet about how they're going to get down from the tree.)

All Fords love to argue with Stan regardless if they can understand him or not. And now sg Ford can finally pet cat Stan.

The hardest part of getting down is that cv Stan doesn't want to stand on sg Fords shoulders, because that's where he hangs out on cv Ford, and this already feels like he's betraying his Ford somehow by interacting with another Ford as a cat. For some reason.

But he also refuses to have sg Ford just hold him in his arm, because what if this old man drops him? Or if he loses his grip using just one hand? But sg Ford also doesn't have custom cat pockets.

He's trying to meow all his concerns to sg Ford and wiggling, but sg Ford still doesn't understand cat, so eventually he just pins cv Stan under an arm and slides down the tree in some crazy movie action stunt that has cv Stan yowling convinced he's going to die for real this time.

When they reach the bottom, which takes like 3 seconds, his claws are digging into sg Fords coat and he's frozen in terror. It takes sg and cv Fords powers combined to actually pry him loose, and then he just digs down into cv Fords coat instead. See him climb a tree for a crazy old man again, it won't happen. That old man shaved years off his life!

But at least he's not a shaking leaf in a tree and sg Stan can finally comfort his bro.

[bwat5-blog]

Did Jinx Love Vi?

**Spoilers For All Of Arcane**

Okay. First let me say I am not here to attack or insult Jinx. The title is literally just addressing the question I'm hoping to answer so.. put down the torches and pitchforks. I recently had a very nice short talk with someone on one of their posts, and it was primarily to do with this issue of how Jinx treats Vi in the show. And in truth, I share a lot of their feelings. For the most part, we never really get a moment of Jinx outwardly showing any sympathy or kindness to Vi at all until almost the end. As I always do for clarity let me be crystal clear. Vi is my favorite character. But I think most people watching objectively can agree she tries really fucking hard for the people she loves and gets kicked in the teeth almost constantly.

*Not writing in my usual spot to look up these quotes so some may be paraphrased*

" Never thought my sister would turn blue-belly"- Literally there because of what Jinx did

"I'm a hero. I busted half of Zaun out of prison while you were passed out at the bottom of a mug"- Vi completely spiraling after losing literally everyone she loves and Jinx knowing full well she didn't step in for Zaun until they took Isha

" She used to be pretty cool, til I kicked her ass"- literally the fight where Jinx lured Vi down there hoping to die and it ended with her on her back urging Vi to finish her.

Smirks at Vi when Vi sees the Mural of her and Vander. Even though Jinx literally betrayed everything Vander ever stood for and considers the man who murdered Vander and caused the deaths of their brothers her father. All while Vi is nowhere to be seen.

Now, there is obviously history between them, Jinx has her reasons to be angry just like Vi does. NEITHER ARE PERFECT. But these few examples are not exaggerated or spun. And they are just a few of many. It can really come off like Jinx just does NOT care what happened to Vi at all:

Seven years in Stillwater undergoing god knows what kind of hell

Almost killed getting back to her in the undercity before being taken by firelights

Almost killed by Jinx on the bridge

Almost killed by Silco at the same event where she begs Cait for Jinx life and Jinx responds by murdering Caitlyn's mother

Has clearly been driven so far by Jinx's actions and what has happened that she becomes Enforcer

Abandoned by Caitlyn and on self-destructive spiral that will very likely kill her because Caitlyn has lost her self after everything Jinx has done to her.

However, I think there are some things we need to remember to better understand this issue:

Jinx is severely mentally ill. I know this is obvious. But it matters because everything she says and does is filtered through a different lens than the average person.

Jinx hates herself and in season 2 especially, wants to die until she bonds with Isha. She gives us evidence of this repeatedly but the moment I most remember is when she meets Isha for the very first time and describes knowing she could die at any time as the best feeling in the world. Then goes on to associate herself with cursing a a sister, a family or a society, I think it was.

"I'm losing my snappy comebacks"- Part of Jinx's whole schtick is verbally lashing out. She mocks everyone, at all times, for any reason. It doesn't make it kind or right. It's just what she does. She also absolutely knows precisely what to say to piss her sister off. Like any good little sister would. Additionally, you may be the person yourself but if not, we all know that person whose defense mechanism is cruel or sarcastic words. While Jinx is plenty dangerous, more often than not when she feels insulted/threatened/uncomfortable she goes for the death blow verbally.

Considering all of that, while there are moments I wish she could have shown Vi alittle more kindness and love, especially with how much Vi loves her, I think Jinx's love for Vi remains constant throughout the show, even if her motormouth sometimes makes it hard to see:

The Reunion:

Even after all the terrible things in their childhood, including the incident for which Vi carries so much guilt and some of the fandom think a fifteen year old Vi should have been crucified for, this is how their reunion starts. Vi apologizes immediately and embraces her. Jinx is crying and ashamed of how she has changed but Vi accepts her and loves her. It only goes wrong when Jinx sees Caitlyn, and why is she mad at Caitlyn who she has never seen or met?

Cyclops and lefty to the rescue. Silco to turn Jinx against Vi and Sevika intentionally trying to damage Jinx's mental health, both of these figures poison Jinx against Caitlyn ruining the next several times they get close. But all throughout that series of events we see Jinx trying to overpower the voices in her head because she knows Vi loves her, and she loves VI. Just unfortunately, she does not win.

2. Seeing Vi As An Enforcer:

Now this isn't a happy moment of course. But Jinx isn't so distraught at seeing Vi in the uniform because she doesn't care about Vi. She is seeing what she believes is the total rejection of her by the last person she has who loves her and who she loves, all wrapped up in the package that killed her parents

3. Jinx VS Vi:

Even during the fight Jinx wanted to end in her death, when Isha gets involved and sticks a gun in Vi's face Jinx IMMEDIATELY screams no.

4. Jinx At the Pit:

If you slow down the cinematic of Vi's time in the pit, is actually shown a few times not just the once. Now I admit this is head-canon and probably the least provable one of these. But I don't think Jinx would have show up again and again to take pleasure in or mock Vi's pain. I think she was just checking on her in the best way her mind knew how.

5. Vander:

I already mentioned how their last interaction went, and the fact that Jinx came to Vi anyway to try and rebuild their family knowing full-well Vi would likely want to kill her is impressive and a clear sign of JInx's desire for them all to be together again.

There are plenty more examples to either point (particularly the MASSIVE example of how Jinx feels about vi in the end of the show), this was quick and not my usual quality. But the thought struck me and I wanted to jump on it. Feel free to share your thoughts same/different or otherwise, I appreciate all of you who take time out of your day to read my thoughts. Even when they are quick and slap-dash like this.

The story of these sisters is one that for me, will live on forever. Have a great day.

[josphitia]

Josie's Cow HRT Journey Part 5 - Groceries and Friendship

*BeepBeep* *BeepBeep* *BeepBeep*

“Alright alright, I'm up…” *Yawn* “Ugh, my hair’s a mess…” I said groggily, reaching for the cheap comb I kept in the drawer by my mirror. “How is my hair so tangled and what is with this headache…” As I began to sift my hair, suddenly-

*Snap* was the sound as the teeth of the comb broke off, spiraling to the ground. They struck something hard, something unexpected, something that were-

“H-horns? *My* horns?” I muttered as I investigated the source of where the comb struggled and lost. I started to tear up as I parted my hair with my fingers. There they were, two small buds that had emerged from my skull. The first official start of my transition into the boviness I really was. Crying was the beginning of my morning that day, but it was a release of pure joy. I just kept staring at the two small glints of keratin that were stubbornly pushing their way through my scalp.

From there the changes came quickly one after the other over the coming days. I could see, I could feel, my body gratefully and ecstatically accepting the new hormones coursing through my body. Every day I found new developments to investigate: My ears began to taper into a point. My nails were taking on a dark, cloudy tint; as well as hardening themselves into stronger material. My canines were slowly becoming duller. There was a small nub at the bottom of my spine, a tail waiting for the right encouragement to spring forth. I felt a constant warmness radiating from inside me, with a growing hunger rising each day reminding me of the fuel I needed for my advancements.

Small, rounded, lattice-work hairs started to sprout over the whole of my body. It was like a thousand small needle pricks. A subtle stinging that I felt constantly over every inch of my skin, but focused primarily on my arms, legs, and face at these early stages. The Endo theorized that I can expect my fur to be the same color as the hair on my head, if a few degrees lighter in shade. My fur is going to be a beautiful shade of creamy brown, she said.

But the most prominent mutation was with my face itself. The pain was a numbing fire as I could feel my face elongating, my muzzle slowly growing to a flattened point. As if to fill any empty space created from my changes, my tongue was also growing suit. If my canines were still sharp I would be worried about the relentless stabbings they would inflict. Instead my body was in harmony, each change benefitting the way my body was transforming.

It is an odd sensation to feel euphoria from the growing of fur in places you had previously endured painful hair removal procedures on. It’s hard not to feel pangs of loss at the years I spent moving my body towards a direction that ultimately wasn’t for me. Pangs of jealousy at the people who have started their journeys before me. Pangs of resentment towards myself at not realizing what I needed to do, *what I could have done,* sooner. But I am on this journey now and more and more the only feeling filling my heart was *pride.* I look in the mirror and I'm finally starting to see *me.*

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

I had been spending the first transformative week in my own home, journaling my changes like some amateur documentarian. But, I was beginning to run low on the essentials. Fresh greens and produce had begun to be the only things I could reliably eat, and unfortunately, those are products you must purchase with regularity. With horror, I knew what I had to do: Make a trip to the grocery.

While I felt happiness and pride at my current state, one thought clouded the back of my mind: You're not there *yet.* You don't *pass.* That concept can be toxic, and it has led to many persons to focus on their own appearances to an unhealthy degree. But it is predicated on one simple notion: It's not safe for me to simply *exist.* This society is one built upon conformity in all aspects. To be different is a threat. It signals to the establishment that they have not done enough to control you. To your fellow citizens, it raises feelings of contempt. *They* were following the expectations laid before them, why can't you? It is sadly easier for many to lambast and degrade another rather than to focus their energies inward to self-discovery.

And so I donned an outfit similar to the ones I wore early in my first transition. A baggy hoodie, a pair of loose jeans, and old shoes. All articles of clothing chosen for one primary purpose; to conceal as much of my body as possible. However, these clothes did not obfuscate my appearance as well as they did in the past. For starters, my tail had finally emerged from its dormancy. I had hoped I could simply squirrel it away inside my pants' leg, but that proved too uncomfortable. I simply had to let my new limb be free, even if it was a signal to those behind me that I was of a different sort than them. But, the biggest identifier of my otherness was the wide muzzle that my face had been contoured into. No matter how I wore my hood, my flat nose poked through. I relented, the rumbling in my stomach rising with every minute I fuddled with my appearance. This was simply the best I could do, the beginnings of a cow wearing clothes too big for her, with a small tail above her jeans and a pink snout leaning out from her hood.

The mUver driver gave me many side glances, before simply asking me “Is there one o' dem furry conventions in town?” I lied, to protect myself, and said “Yeah. A small one.” The answer proved enough to satiate his curiosity and the rest of the ride we both partook in an alliance of silence. He dropped me off in front of the store. 5 stars, I instinctively input, not wanting to somehow offend the man who provided me passage. I held my empty bags close and walked through the store.

“Most people are just trying to live their own lives. They won't notice you” I chanted to myself, a mantra to get me through this obstacle called shopping. I made a straight line for the produce and began to stockpile, doing the math in my head between how much I *could* buy, how much I *could* eat, and how much *would* spoil were my math wrong. While comparing between two particularly small heads of cabbage, I heard the first comments regarding my appearance.

“Mommy, what's wrong with her face?”

It alarmed me, as anyone talking about you but not to you would, but it didn't frighten me. This little girl was simply curious about the world around her. There *was* something different about my face, something she had never witnessed before. There *was* something wrong with my face, it hadn't grown to its full splendor yet. But the next thing I heard killed any confidence I had been building during this excursion.

“Don't look at him, sweety” the mother sniped as she yanked her child in the opposite direction of myself.

Him. *Him.* The pronoun I had been able to avoid being labeled was back. The anxiety built within me. Was it simply that the mother did not give herself a proper look at me, using the first pronoun that came to her? Did the clothes I wear obscure my appearance so much that I presented male? But the thought that pushed all others out, rising to the forefront of my consciousness was one I had never considered: Was being bovine a trait seen as inherently male to the greater public? It was a notion so at odds with my own perception of reality. Being a cow was the greatest expression of my femininity. How could that be seen as masculine, of all things?

I deduced I had picked up enough food for at least a few days. I headed to the registers, I needed to leave. But, of course, the bored cashiers were now replaced with ones frantic as their lines were packed with irritable customers. I searched but to no avail for the self-checkout lanes. I always avoided interaction as a standard practice, but at this moment such an exercise felt paramount to my own safety. And thus I relented, slipping myself to the back of a line.

I put my face into my phone, trying my best to ignore my material reality. To my shock I had a notification I had never seen before: “You have 1 new follower.” I had begun to post about my transition online like so many others had done, but I never imagined someone would actually be interested in *mine.* I didn't know what to do except look at the profile of this person who had taken an interest in my own. She was a stunning tiger my own age who was following all sorts of other Therians. But before I knew it, my self-induced bubble was popped by the reality around me.

“Ew what the fuck is wrong with their face?”

The first of many whispers to come. At least this time they gendered me somewhat correctly. But I wasn't prepared for the insults to come.

“Ugh, another ugly bitch thinking she's a dragon”

W-what? Why did that hurt so much? I was gendered correctly, albeit rudely… But why did not being recognized as a cow hurt so bad? Dragons are cool, so many people I look up to are dragons… Shouldn't I be honored to be considered one?

“Dude what are you talking about?” said another voice.

“That girl over there. Look at her face and she's obviously hiding horns underneath her hoodie. It's all the rage nowadays amongst people like *them.* Thinking that being a dragon will fix all their problems.”

“Whaaa?? Dude that's just crazy”

More talking behind my back that felt like daggers into my shoulders.

“Wait, she's a dragon??”

“I don't think people like that should be allowed in public”

“Yeah what happens if she just up and snaps? I've seen videos about it”

I try to ignore them. They're gendering me correctly. They don't know. But now I can feel everyone's eyes on me. I feel like I'm on a stage. Try as I might their words penetrate any barriers I try to erect. One word keeps permeating the air:

“Dragon”

“Dragon”

“Dragon”

Everything goes white. My ears are ringing. The blood rushes to my face. I can't contain it anymore. I close my eyes and shout “I'M NOT A DRAGON! I'M A COW!”

Silence except for hushed whispers and laughing. I feel a sudden drop in every aspect of myself as my adrenaline plummets. I approach a cashier who does their best to showcase their contempt for me, but I have no strength to defend against their attitude. I pay for my goods and wait outside for my mUver. One thought permeates my mind through the ride: I need to find people like me to talk to.

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

I reached out to the tigress who had followed me earlier. We began talking and I was just happy to have someone who understood my trials. Someone I was finding camaraderie with. After a few days of talking, she presented me with an opportunity: “Hey, so there's a Therian meetup happening in a few days. If you're able to, would you like to attend?”

How could I not?

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

I arrived at the place. It was an average looking community center. I walked through to the lobby and with one glance the receptionist gestured me to the hallway to my left. I guess I looked the part. I had decided to forgo my previous attire of baggy clothes and wore something more true to me: A tank top emblazoned with a skull & flowers and some jean shorts.

I walked trepidatiously down the hall. I knew I would be meeting people (animals?) that were traveling the same road of self discovery and expression that I was. I would be meeting the nice tigress whom I had already talked to and formed a rapport. So why was I anxious? I guess it was because, if I alienated even these people, it meant I would truly be alone on this journey.

I found a door with the simple words “Therian Meetup” taped haphazardly to the door. If it wasn't evident by the sign, the noises inside would be a telltale indicator. I opened the door to a cacophony of sights and sounds, yet somehow all pleasing. Animals of all sorts were each having a myriad of conversations amongst themselves and others in makeshift groups.

A lamia was at the far side of the room in a wheelchair. Her scales were a shade of deep blue and shined like sapphires in the light. Her eyes were slit yellow pupils with almost pitch black sclera. “People, pleasssse sssstay on topic” she said in a distressed tone, clearly caught off guard by her own newfound speech pattern. But soon enough she was smiling, joining in with her own insights and interests with one of the ongoing discussions.

To her right was a king cobra looking man, with green hair and brilliant black scales. He was in deep conversation with a horned goat girl. She had white and black fur across the whole of her body and she already had her hooves. Her horns were like mine, visible but clearly still growing in.

On the opposite side of the room was a kind looking man with primarily dark hair, red and blond highlights, black/red striped armbands that ran up to his elbows, and many rose tattoos scattered throughout. He was holding hands with a *very* buff werewolf girl with sharp teeth and hairy forearms. She was enraptured, hanging onto his every word with vigorous nodding and smiling. They were both speaking to a towering snake woman using a walker. She had black scales and green hands, green eyes with gray sclera and rows of sharp teeth. She had a long tongue that lent her to the same speech pattern I heard previously of elongatting her S’s.

Closer to me was a slime girl and an androgynous snake, wearing glasses and using a wheelchair, engaging in banter and laughing fits. The girl had an orange amber tone to both the patches of skin still remaining on her and to her slime. She had bones floating about in her, vestiges of her previous form. She was holding her phone and, her slime unconducive to a touch screen, used a stylus to navigate. She showed the snake something else that caused them to laugh with a hissing sound. Their chuckling was punctuated with the same speech pattern of multiple S’s that I quickly learned was a telltale quirk of the snakes and lamias among the group. Their clawed hands were completely covered in shimmering purple scales that extended, in a patchwork pattern, the length of their arms.

Everyone was having a fun time. Did I really belong with such a group of eclectic happiness? But before I could give such notions a chance to take root, a white furred tigress with faded purple hair started waving to me. It was the same woman who had invited me to this group in the first place. She beckoned me to an open seat between her and… another cow?? And it was the same girl I saw eating a bowl of grass way back when! She had come along so well in her transition. She was a different kind of cow than I was, highland to my jersey. Her hair, a shade of brown with streaks of red, had grown thick over her eyes and her horns were growing magnificently.

I sat between them and the three of us just… simply talked. About memes. About life. About anything. Eventually we all drifted to other conversations to mingle in. I talked to all sorts of animals that day. It was one of the most relaxing yet exciting experiences of my life. I felt comfortable. I felt wanted. I felt like, for the first time in my life, I had found my people.

I had found friends.

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

Josie's Cow HRT Journey

First|Previous|Next

This was the longest one yet! I never thought that this AnimalHRT thing would connect me with so many wonderful people! Thank you to everyone who has become a part of my life's journey, both in this story and irl.

In no particular order, the people appearing in this story are:

@ariathelamia

@home-sweet-hive

@queenofwerewolves

@starwaycereal

@kontonord

@tigergirltail

@pennymations

@robins-warudo

@sandyca5tle

@thecrystalmountainsystem

[princessfbi]

I am intrigued by the term "whole ass crisis" - headcanon please?

Well you see back in the day when Tommy was only just starting to really put himself out there with nameless guys he met in bars across town and no connections to his real life whatsoever… he was having to overcome a lot of inherited stereotypes and internalized homophobia. Every time he so much as considered switching it around, he’s dad’s smoker pocked voice rang in his head saying all the worst things possible and only a biting kiss and a lot of tequila shut him up. He just… he had a lot of hang ups, okay. And he was getting pretty comfortable acknowledging that he was into guys (it took longer to actually say the word gay) but it’s super vulnerable being put in that position. He grew up in the 80s where the “gay cancer” was all over the news and he served during Don’t Ask Don’t Tell and times had changed and LA was a pretty accepting place but he never could quite shake the feeling that he had a target on his back and one wrong move meant someone finding out and his whole world was over.

But then he met a guy, a nice guy. A really nice guy who made him feel safe and didn’t rush him and treated him like he was something to be cherished and Tommy thought “okay. Okay. I can do this.” And he bottomed for the first time with that really nice, sweet guy who understood what it meant for Tommy and took his time to make sure he felt good before he put it in...

And Tommy hated it.

Which… maybe sent him on another spiral because why did he hate it? Wasn’t that like the whole point? Everyone kept saying that getting dicked down meant he was really gay and it would be world changing and he would truly feel like his authentic self. But it just felt… uncomfortable. He was too aware of his own body and it was overstimulating in the worst way and yeah okay the prostate was a sweet spot that felt good but it only lasted a few minutes before his skin felt like it was going to crawl off his bones and the pressure was just uncomfortable and what did that mean? Thirty plus years of his life agonizing over this secret part of himself and it didn’t count because he didn’t like it? He didn’t belong because there was something wrong with him? He wasn’t really gay just because he didn’t like feeling something spearing him alive no matter what position they were in?

It was an embarrassing amount of gin, an even more embarrassing amount of tears, and a loud bachelorette party that told him it was okay to have sexual preferences and that they didn’t mean anything other than what he liked and didn’t like and the hangover from that night was horrible enough for Tommy to still gag whenever he thought about it but… it helped. It still took him a while and a few more instances of “just trying it out” before he realized it wasn’t for him and that’s okay.

And he does try really hard not to project onto Evan and his queer journey but it still throw him for a bit of a loop how quickly Evan just accepted everything and it was terrifying and it was thrilling and a little heartbreaking when Evan got that sad look in his eyes when he found out Tommy had been doing it for him and not because he liked it and he stops and thinks maybe…

But then Evan never makes him feel like he has to compromise and Tommy… Tommy is still trapped in the wonder of him.

Send Me Sleepover Asks

[tothepointofinsanity]

Observation Log Series: Sayaka [III]

Today on: Visual metaphors for depression and the actual “magic of friendship”.

Images are taken from this Magia Record game video on YouTube.

I am pretty sure someone else in the ages past had already covered this bit, so I suppose I will add this to the archives for my own documentation purpose. Or for just anyone who feels like reading it, really.

Sayaka’s magical girl transformation in this sequence is very interesting. There are a lot of jokes about how she’s yeeted everywhere by the Holy Quintet in her own transformation, so here are the notes:

The beginning of her transformation is shot in the sequence of a downward spiral. Sayaka falls through the hoops and into the ocean as her opening, a reference to her descent into madness (keep in mind: the sea as a metaphor for an inescapable expanse of darkness; the abyss) in the main show, as well as her deteriorating mental health. The spiral drawn to resemble piano keys (🎹) is also no coincidence, but they break apart when Sayaka plummets past them, much like music becoming discordant and incoherent.

Right after that, she gets thrown around respectively by her friends, each of whom gets her to the destination of being fully transformed. What is important to notice is that for the majority of this part, you cannot see Sayaka’s face, and she appears completely indifferent and motionless as others pass her around without hassle. You would think someone like Sayaka, who typically exhibits stubborn tendencies, would be resistant to being literally thrown around, but I feel that there are reasons for this:

• Sayaka being shown not as weightless, but rather as something heavy that makes an impact wherever she goes. She’s literally dead weight in the water despite her Witch being a mermaid. There is no attempt whatsoever we see from her where she tries to swim gracefully or float naturally in the sea. She just seems to be…there, being moved rather than performing her transformation by herself like all the other magical girls.

• The Holy Quintet are the essence of friendship that help Sayaka not necessarily out of her depression, but rather giving her a massive boost by flinging her to the next appropriate person. Given she is portrayed as dead weight, she doesn’t transform manually and do fancy dances, instead heavily reliant on the support of the crew to help her get changed. The sequence where she’s thrown onto the bed and lies there before being flung out again is very reminiscent of the tragedy that individuals struggling with mental health problems can barely get out of bed on their own at times, even to the point where it seems they might never leave said bed. Homura has to pick up Sayaka in a bag before tossing her to Kyoko, where it unfurls and it becomes her cape.

It is also interesting to note that the bed is surrounded by mirrors of all sizes and shapes that don’t reflect Sayaka at all, but rather the oceanic creatures and environment. Her self image is nonexistent and replaced by the sea. When she’s thrown to Kyoko, it is only then she is “stopped”, and we finally get to see her face. Her hair is long, unlike the appearance of her short hair that we are used to. Kyoko helps her with the last part of her transformation by putting on the gold hair pin.

Kyoko being the one to not throw Sayaka but rather casually stop said impact is likely symbolic of their relationship. The ocean is stopped by the unmovable rock.

• In the very last part, Sayaka appears standing on a platform that arises from the sea, and only then she seems fully refreshed and ready to go. Once again, instead of swirling out of the water or something, she needs something solid to stand on and raise her to the surface as she is incapable of doing so herself. Her entire transformation seems to highlight that others need to be on standby to support her, or else she will likely just dwindle and sink motionlessly to the bottom of the ocean. By the way she’s posed, it also seems to imply that she has complete trust in her friends, who were there at every turn to assist her transformation.

Something else I thought about as well is the irony that despite being mermaid coded in terms of her own Witch and backstory, Sayaka is almost always portrayed as a sinking vessel the moment she hits the water. A finless mermaid, yet frustratingly a mermaid that cannot even swim or float. I find that this interpretation would fit into the existing narrative that Sayaka and the Incubators view her as useless or inadequate. What good a mermaid who sinks in the sea? What good a magical girl who needs others to help her transform proper? Noting that Sayaka’s transformation always involves her emerging out of water seems to tell us that she has always pulled her weight out of the abyss by herself.

TLDR: It wouldn’t hurt to show that Sayaka requires support from everyone in order to do her best.

[lemotmo]

Being their baby home to them. Both of them. But yeah I understand the bigger picture here.

Q. I know that Buck would never ask Eddie to choose him over Christopher but he does love that kid like he's his own so Eddie not even trying to get Christopher to come home and just willingly leave forever is taking both himself and Christopher away from Buck. He had the right to spiral.

A. I am a Buck girlie right down to the dust of my bones. I love that big beautiful dumbass of a teddy bear more than I can properly express. But I preemptively have a headache from what it's going to be like around here when Buck and Eddie do go canon because the reaction from some people to that episode is making my eye twitch. Yes Buck had the right to spiral. No he did not have the right to sabotage Eddie's house showings. He did not do it intentionally or with malice, but he did singlehandedly ruin those showings. Is moving away the right thing for Eddie to do? Absolutely not. But telling Eddie that in this moment is not the right way to handle this particular situation. It's why Bobby, Hen and Chimney didn't tell him that. They all hugged him, told him they understood, and, most importantly, told him he was a good father. Because that's the desperate bottom line for Eddie. He wants to be the father for Christopher that his father never was for him. That's it. That's the whole ball game. Eddie wants to be a better parent to his kid than his parents were to him. And he's trying to do this all while seeing his parents ACTIVELY being the kind of parents to his kid that they never once were to him. Eddie already believes he's broken and that something is wrong with him specifically, so seeing proof that his parents are in fact capable of being the kind of parents he wanted just further proves to himself that he's the problem. Everybody can recognize that moving back to Texas is wrong, but they can also see that this is the way Eddie needs to do this so helping him in this moment means helping him get the move done. Which is what Buck ended up doing because he finally realized that this time helping Eddie meant helping him do what he knows isn't right long-term. But the long-term is irrelevant right now. That's why the wording from Buck at the end is important. He said he was happy for Eddie because he gets to be where he belongs. With Christopher. Not in Texas. Everyone knows the Texas part is wrong, but the Christopher part is right so that's why Buck said it the way he did. He finally understood that for now this is the help Eddie needs.

Right now isn't about Buck. Right now is about Christopher. And that's fair. Eddie has every right to be singularly focused on the Christopher of it all. The Buck stuff will come, we can already see the beginnings of it in this episode. Buck loves Eddie because of everything Eddie is, not in spite of all the things that Eddie is or because of the things he might be able to be in the future. He loves him simply because he's Eddie. And Eddie has never been loved like that before. The examination of what that means will come, but Eddie doesn't have the ability to think about that right now. Right now he needs to know he and his son are okay. That's all Eddie cares about now. He's not trying to take Christopher away from Buck. Eddie would never do that. But Eddie can't see anything else right now but Christopher. The Christopher situation has to be settled before Eddie can be ready for Buck. Eddie needs to figure out Eddie. Eddie has to deal with Texas and everything it represents, his parents, Shannon, and everything else that made Eddie who he is today, before he can truly move on. And moving on will include Buck. But he needs to go back home first. Eddie needs to go to Texas. And Texas isn't about Buck. Texas is about Eddie.

Thank you Nonny! (Number 3 is a go!)

Yeah, I feel like I've talked enough about this subject in my previous posts. If you're interested, just scroll down a few posts on my blog. You'll find it all right there. I can't rehash this again and again.

I agree with Ali here. And that's the gospel truth. 😋

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[geodraws04]

PKMN ScarVio DLC AU ~ Possessed!Kieran

Just finished the page for my contribution to the good ol’ Toxic Chain theory :OOO

I recently finished the Teal Mask and finishing up the Indigo Disk DLC and while i really did like the fact that Kieran’s actions were all his own and makes him a much more realistic/relatable character, I am feeling a little robbed we didn't get a possessed!kieran + i really did not like the direction they took w/ Mochi Mayhem. I felt like it was WAAAY too silly/comedic for my tastes (if you liked it more power to you tho!), and wish we had more lore/backstory and involvement of Pecharunt and the Loyal 3 respectivally.

so i wanted to try killing two birds with one stone and try to mash ID and MM together somewhat! So heres some sketches and concept stuff ft. My PKMN!Violet sona. And also make this AU ANGSTY AS FUCK-

im not a comedy/crack/silly person when it comes to stories involving manipulation/mind control type of stuff because i just get second hand embarressment for those under doing wierd stuff while not aware so if your looking for a “silly haha!” AU with this type of concept ive got bad news for ya… this AU aint gonna be for you-

Starting off… my design for when Kieran is fully possessed by Pecharunt!

I still really liked the fact that Kieran was like. FULLY aware and in his own mind/body during ID; so i want to keep that in this AU too - for the most part.

id like to think that once making a deal with Pecharunt and offering himself to it in order to become stronger, the little peach would slowly feed him mochi that would “numb the pain and guilt if he ever feels doubtful.” At the time of Pecharunt’s debut to the start of ID, pecharunt is extremely weak and thus, its influence isnt as effective or strong. However, when we meet Kieran again, he’s definately beginning to change. throughout the story, we see Kieran’s spiraling descent into madness as he becomes more intimidating and cynical.

i dont have a specific spot where hed have this outfit change, but ill figure it out lol.

However, i def think it would be a bit after his panic attack/mental break down when we defeat him. Since at this point he couldnt uphold his end of the deal with Pecharunt, it has no choice: he offered his body and mind to it to get stronger, but he couldnt keep it up. So now, he has to pay the price.

(This would be right after the Ex-Champ bit - fuck you Draydon)

however, instead of telling himself to get stronger like in canon… he mumbles something indescernable and unintelligable… and then he starts… laughing?

“K-Kieran…?”

“Uh… yo, earth to ex-champion… you doin’ alright-?”

Suddenly… he glares at us… no. He glares at you, tears streaming down his face but an animalistic and crazily wide smile is plastered on his face as he stumbles back up, hugging himself while letting out what one would think is the most maniacal, despairing, crazy cackling laughter one could hear.

That's when you see it - his eyes, formally a light yellow, now a bright yet darkly sinister shade of violet-magenta. The scrunchie he was wearing began growing two strings of toxic chains that waved around like tentacles, and lifted him up in the air like stilts, purple smoke filling the area.

what was happening… whats happened to Kieran.

no, whatever that was…

Thats not Kieran.

The bottom sketch is a small scenario i had in mind!

i want pecharunt to have a larger role so here they are! After returning the teal mask to me and carmine and running off, he stumbles upon an injured and weak Pecharunt, and secretly nurses it back to health. Behind everyone’s backs the two spark a friendship/partnership!

i like to think pecharunt has good intentions and did genuinely want to help kieran get stronger, but i like to think that the toxins it gave to Kieran not only began to mess with Kieran’s mind, but with Pecharunt’s too.

how exactly? No idea just yet lol- ill figure that out later on down the line lol. Along with the loyal 3’s roles in the story as well.

Heres a few for fun and more funny sketches i made to fill up the empty space lol-

also feat. Moi, yuma and shinigami jykghhfjhfdjhygjuy-

QUICK DISCLAIMER! IM NOT SHIPPING MYSELF W/ KIERAN SINCE HES IMPLIED TO BE A TEEN AND IM A LEGAL ADULT!! the DLC came out when i was 17; almost 18 (released a few days before my bday actually!)

i like to think that when this story and AU respectively take place, Kieran is 14 while im 16 turning 17 that fall in Teal Mask (Carmine being 18 or 19?), then in Indigo Disc Kieran is 16, im 18, and Carmine is 19/20. So me and kieran are 2 years apart, while me and Carmine are 1-2 years apart.

Its mostly because id like to think me and kieran’s dynamic is similar to a close friend i have irl and wanted to write it as such while retaining the canon story too. If that makes sense lol.

And one more sady drawing when kieran is freed from Pecharunt’s control!

i think i speak for everyone that we needed a scene where we hugged kieran after all the shit he’s been through-

justice for my baby boy kieran. :,,,))

AAAAAAANNNNNNDDDDD THATS ALL I GOT FOR NOW!!

what do yall think :000

any suggestions/ideas, critiques, whatever is on your mind about this AU is appreciated!! Im gonna get back to my remnant designs lol-