#like this had no reason being written this well..

[shorthaltsjester]

endlessly thinking thoughts about cr characters, morality, and selfishness (likely place for me to be, given that my day job includes endlessly researching ethics and meaning of life) but in light of bell’s hells most recent illustration of their insularity and individualism, I’ve been really like. Trying to unpack why I find it particularly egregious in this party when obviously mighty nein were notoriously self-interested, especially at the beginning, and when vox machina had quite a few moments where their horses were far higher than they had any reason to be. And again, I really want to make it clear her that I don’t hold self-interest or selfishness to be some abhorrent and unforgivable thing, in fact I think its incredibly normal especially given the context of main characters in a story told through game mechanics that flourish on the interest of the individuals making the choices. I’ve written before about how one of the throughlines that I’ve seen in laura’s pcs (since I’m someone who particularly enjoys looking at the moral outlooks characters develop) is a common thread of morality that’s highly dependent on their own interests. And like, this is a positive throughline to me! Without getting into my own views on morality, it is particularly compelling to me for characters with isolated upbringing (which applies to vex, jester, and imogen, each in different ways) to develop a moral code informed by that isolation, and in vex we see her moral code is ‘anything goes if it protects those I hold dear’, in jester we see a moral code that doesn’t care about morality as much as it cares about the chance to care and be cared for, and in imogen we see a moral code developed in response to her very unique experience of hearing the darkest parts of people and judging them on those (which to be clear, i am not judging her for that fact, I think it makes extreme sense for someone who hears the thoughts the people have to be horrified by those things, but it does mean her moral system is almost completely backwards, where intention holds more weight than action, which perhaps makes sense of the popularity of defending all of her ideas and choices and the Right Ones by certain parts of the fandom that insist leftism is hidden in the dnd real play). And that’s all to say that, out of the cr parties we’ve seen, I don’t think any single member of bell’s hells is uniquely more or less selfish or more or less of an asshole than previous characters. And in fact, I tend to be quite fond of selfish characters, I have a well documented history of cherishing them well beyond the cr fandom. But the point is that my calling something or someone self-interested is not a value judgement in this context, it's a descriptive claim about the traits a character exhibited.

Imogen, who has insisted time and time again re: the values of the accord that she would not be swayed by the temptation of predathos because she recognizes the importance of this fight, only to turn around and pretty immediately open herself up to predathos to fulfil the most threatening part of ludinus’ plan is self-interested. I cannot conceive of any other way to describe her choices. And her being self-interested doesn’t mean she can’t also be altruistic at times, but I will be clear that I don’t think her risking killing herself as she attempts to bring down the god-eater that she released is particularly selfless. In my best faith interpretation I’d say she’s pretty middle of the road in that choice. But I bring all this up because a comparison I’ve been seeing is that bell’s hells aren’t as mean as the mighty nein or even vox machina in certain moments and that it doesn’t make sense for the fandom to view bell’s hells as likely to be villains when the same wasn’t true of the previous two campaigns, and I think I have to pretty emphatically disagree, and not because I don’t think there aren’t moments in both campaigns that feature extremely high levels of assholery and villainry from pcs – I mean, some of my favourite cr characters are percy and jester, both of whom i’d say are ‘good guys’ due to the pure luck of the found familys they fell in with and both of whom often suggested plans that were. Not okay. To say the least. But ignoring the difference between suggesting fucked up plans and walking your god-eater infused bestie back towards the troops sent to support you in keeping that entity contained, the other big difference I’ve noticed in my own introspection on how I react to bh vs mn and vm, as well as which things i cherish about previous campaigns that were really missing from c3 to what I think is the story and the character’s detriment (staying away from the shape of the narrative, just because others have made posts that put words together better about that than I can) is that while members of vm and mn remained self-interest to the end of their campaigns and have reasserted those habits in appearances since, the parties as entities working in exandria had both, to echo ashton’s apt suggestion to ludinus, grown up.

Like one moment I think of is beau and fjord’s convo in the nein hells episode, because beau is being her asshole self and fjord is being his ‘I care about My People and I’ll think about the rest later’ self (i say affectionately but certain parts of the fandom I recognize would view derogatorily) – clearly they’re not the kindest people as they discuss bell’s hells, but two notable things are (a) they still treat the hells with the respect and use their means to help them prepare for the battle coming, even when they hear the horrifying thought that the hells aren’t certain they’ll choose to save the gods, all the nein request is that they choose the kind option (b) they say none of their doubts to the hells themselves – likely because they have the empathy to realizes that its a high stress situation that won’t be made better by a reminding the hells how small and likely ineffectual in the universe they are – and their comments about cannon fodder are ones made in jest to each other. Even taking that in the worst faith interpretation, the jokes that beau and fjord make in a private conversation has absolutely zero influence on bh. This is quite different than bells hells, after like. as clearly betraying the accord they promised to assist (even if their intentions are ‘good’) as is possible, belittling the religious armies sent to support their endeavor to keep predathos sealed as they all feel the weight of an irrevocable change occurring in exandria, one bells hells has first account knowledge now that it IS incredibly willing to eat mortals, and laudna and ashton, the members of bells hells most often cited by certain fandom spaces as characters who have gone through so much and it only made them kind and strong, look into the faces of people facing literally existential threat and laugh and mock them. That is, mighty nein as individuals is comprised of some of the, perhaps, most asshole pcs, but The Mighty Nein as a party is committed to treating others the best they can, to leaving things better than they found them (a quote that I think is particularly exemplary of the dynamics of self-interest at play in the mighty nein, since it originated as a blatant illustration of molly’s notion of self-importance but developed to become a kind of commandment that the nein became committed to fulfilling). The opposite is true of bell’s hells, where orym and dorian at least both seem to have motivation beyond themselves, imogen’s changes but has shown she is capable of letting go of her ‘intention reigns’ requisitely individualistic perspective, and chetney plays up his selfishness but has shown himself to care quite a bit for people beyond their party but bell’s hells as an entity is uh, pretty self-interested.

To clarify some of my thoughts here in the spirit of the wicked renaissance happening rn, I’ve always felt that for good was an incredibly apt song for the mighty nein, because it really nails that feeling that perhaps they didn’t change each other as individuals to become better people on the grand scale, maybe they’ve just changed each other permanently, but they (and I would agree with this) view each other as having changed each other for the better (e.g., I don’t know if I could say whether jester is a morally better Individual at the end of the campaign, but I can say with certainty that she fulfils and makes moral choices in her work as a member of the mighty nein). And I don’t know if this can be said about bell’s hells – I think they have certainly influenced each other and changed how alone many of those characters felt, and that is not a slight on the story, it can be a great centre for a story to focus on how a relinquishment of the feeling that one is alone in the world can change them. But for the most part, that hasn’t been bh’s story, their story instead has been about validating their refusal to become anything beyond what they insist was out of their control. And not to get to annoying philosophy student about it but bell’s hells are maybe some of the most explicit examples of sartrian bad faith I’ve seen in fiction in a hot minute, because their insistence that they treat their wounds as incurable and entirely out of their hands has led to them limiting their own potential because many of them ignore their responsibility as people to make choices in their own lives. In contrast, at the end of the campaign, mighty nein are still assholes as we all like to refer to them as, but in the context of an apocalypse, I think I’d prefer the assholes like fjord – who is certainly being truthful when he says he doesn’t care about what harm comes to 200 people when jester is at risk but who also, as they traverse into aeor, is insistent that their group won’t be running away from whatever apocalyptic threat awaits them, even if that means dying in the fight – than I would an asshole like ashton – who promises to fight for the little guys but who then turns around and acts upon a philosophy that says the strongest will survive. When you look at the mighty nein, it is incredibly easy to see the fingerprints of change they’ve left upon one another, and even to see the boundaries they place on one another’s asocial behaviours through their presence in one another’s lives (more recently the group chastising jester’s fond words about ludinus is a good example, but others are yasha’s pressuring caleb and essek to move on from their wizard talks as they collect paper in aeor instead of venturing further toward the battle they have to fight, or fjord and jester’s frustrated conversation in the ukotoa reunion about how fjord made a stupid decision and he doesn’t regret but he feels dejected and jester checking him on the fact that they still need to figure out a solution). It takes some extrapolation to see how bells hells have changed each other in more than aesthetic ways, if they have at all. Because the catalyst for change is pressure to do so, and aside from moments where it was truly change or be left behind, bh doesn’t challenge each other unless forced to by morri’s trials or delilah’s interruption and on the very odd occasion an interesting game of rollies-spin-the-bottle. 

And it’s interesting because the asshole behaviour of the mighty nein, like bell’s hells, stems from being left on the outskirts of society and the mistreatment that comes with that, so seemingly the change from being alone to being with others is one that actually insists upon being challenged to grow and change. I mean, just looking at the starting points of the characters, there’s an intriguing amount of stark similarities between their pasts; jester and fearne were both people loved dearly by the family they grew up with but who were loved within the confines of a gilded cage, ashton and beau both have an glaring self awareness that their anger at the world has a very particular source (their parents) but use that as justification rather than a means of self reflection, yasha and orym are trying to navigate a world in the wake of an incomprehensible loss and a sense of duty, fjord and imogen are both seeking out knowledge of their own powers and unknowingly retreading the paths of their missing and presumed dead parental figures. The idea that bell’s hells are uniquely mistreated by society in the history of cr player characters is, politely, laughable. Absolutely they’re mistreated, and I think it could be fair to say these characters are more defined by their isolation than others but I think that has more to do with the lack of downtime rp than it has to do with the context of their suffering.

What I have loved about the mighty nein is that in their realization that the bonds they forge with each other are undermining the truths most of them had taken to be true – that they were alone and without a place in the world – they are also forced to realize that no longer being alone and isolated comes with the weight of social responsibility. And this was born out of a willingness the mighty nein had to call each other out and that the players had to allow their characters to be wrong and get called on it. Because that’s the friction of living with other people on the small party scale and the large world scale – in the mighty nein’s ability to survive as a people who cared for each other even when they didn’t agree or when they made decisions that they couldn’t understand, they were constantly developing their ability to care for the very same world that left them alone. Because in campaign two, the world as a whole had the role that the gods have in campaign 3 – why should a party of nobodies, treated like shit by the world and the people in it go through the effort of saving it?

And the mighty nein answered, in their own imperfection and assholery, that nothing is ever just one thing – one of the things I cherish most about campaign 2 is its commitment to ambiguity, allowing the complexity of the world to go unsolved because there is no solution to the fact that life is immense and sometimes incoherent. I don’t think its a coincidence that I’ve seen some of the people lamenting the idiocy of fandom members like me who think that it actually isnt a leftist win to destroy the world in the hopes of spontaneous justice arising in c3 are the same people who criticised c2’s conclusion with the cerberus assembly for not being leftist (a word which for them means . the aesthetic image of a rebellion sparked and not the unending commitment to doing what you practically can to make life more just for those around you – whether they’re particularly kind to you or not) enough. The conclusion of c2 emphasizes that the choice to make the world a better place isn’t something that can be achieved in one single sweeping action that will wipe the boards clean – there is no murder of all the members of the cerberus assembly that would’ve solved the problems that caused the assembly’s power. There is no forcing of the god’s out of exandria that will deal with the actual issue undergirding both bh and their blorbo-moralized fans' criticism of the gods, which is that mortals are cursed with the burden of free will, and being mistreated by other mortals means constantly having to try and make sense of the fact that someone chose to do something cruel to you (and, sometimes, that you made a choice that allowed that cruelty to occur) – a burden made much heavier when the person who hurt you is your cult-indoctrinated mother, or your cult leader father, or the person in the mirror. The mighty nein take up this fight, and the complexities of their individual identities begin to heal in the light of a commitment in their relationship as friends and as a team to improve the world, even on the small scale. Bell’s hells remain gridlocked and stagnant and unwilling to change in an unspoken turf war of self-interest because they’ve insisted (influenced in part by the context of the campaign 3 narrative but, as others have aptly pointed out, that narrative was much more influenced by bh’s lack of curiosity regarding anything except their own minds) upon finding a solution to a problem they’ve decided is earth-shatteringly (quite literally, to the people of ruidus) unjust based on, aside from encounters where fellow mortals were the primary oppressors, their own testimony of the god’s not listening to them and the obvious villain’s parallel testimony. Something I’ve really been chewing on lately is caduceus words to fjord about his role as a paladin of the wildmother – that maybe it just means that someday, someone will pray for a miracle, and there fjord’ll be and the weight that has given that fjord’s bond to ukotoa came from his desperation not to die and his willingness to accept whatever help would be offered, that fjord could now be the person that reaches out to someone in need, and that the hand he offers won’t come with a curse.  And I think that’s really the poignant difference between bh and mn for me, that for bh, their experiences of injustice, though did make them personally bitter, did not make them morally misanthropic.

Comparatively, Bell’s Hells chose to ensure that, because the gods never answered their prayers, they shouldn’t be permitted to answer anyone else’s. Is this an understandable position? Sure, for the walls of a preschool, not really for a group of characters that I will ever be in any way inclined to view as something close to heroes. While it’s true that there are parts of life that are beyond our control – somethings happen to us that we have no say in, and they cause injuries both physical and mental that we are left to heal without any rhyme or reason, it is still our responsibility to heal them. And if you choose not to, well, then you’ve chosen not to, and are responsible for the consequences and judgements that choice might amount to.

Anyway, sorry this is all over the place but TLDR: calling bell’s hells as a party self-interested is actually just descriptively correct – they can save members of the party made up of their close friends and still be self-interested – and while the individual members of bell’s hells actually aren’t all that uniquely self-interested in the history of cr pcs, the party is uniquely self-interested in how they’ve chosen to navigate the world an their responsibility to the people in it.

[truelovepolinator]

Why I'm So Sure It's Luke

I've been pretty quiet here for a while. Much of that is because of the state of the world. I had a bit of a deep spiral last weekend about things happening in my country.

And I confess that the FB comment and funeral hubbub sent me into a corresponding (though temporary) Lukola spiral to which I was doubtless more vulnerable due to my already depressed state. Did I really have to lose my daily dopamine drip (aka, Lukola) just when I needed it most?

Short answer: Absolutely not.

I had already started to pull myself out of my Lukola spiral by Monday (the other spiral is still very deep), and video and photos of Nic that emerged on Tuesday and Wednesday shored me up until I was back to effing rock solid.

I often see things I don't agree with, even on the blogs of folks with whom I usually agree, and I simply move on most of the time. I don't comment. I feel no need to argue with people in their own blogs. In friendly spaces, I'll sometimes share counter opinions because I believe respectful dialogue and debate are important — and have all but disappeared in this era of instant blocks. And we all want to share information and opinions that help us fine tune our perspectives.

But if they're clearly dug into an opinion that I view as wildly wrong, there's little value for me in arguing with them. Let them think what they want. It's not my job to change anyone's mind.

The jakola takes are the easiest to ignore for obvious reasons. I've written extensively about JD's role in Nicola's life and there's no need to do so here. (Feel free to read my other posts if you need clarity around N & J's non-romantic relationship.)

Instead, the takes I find the most frustrating are from the Lukolas who have lost hope, the so-called "realistic" ones who think that we "just have to accept that they're not together," and maybe even that "Luke is with Ant."

To this, I respectfully say, we absolutely do not have to accept any such thing because the evidence is fully on our side.

Truth be told, I suspect I'm most vexed by these posts because I used to be one of those "realists." In late summer/early autumn, I had fallen victim to the fake narratives created by the paparazzi shots of both Nic and Luke, all designed to imply a certain narrative without either of them actually saying those things were true. I always believed NicLuke belonged together. However, I reluctantly accepted that "I guess Luke is probably seeing her" and "not sure about that guy, but the photos of Nic and him do look cozy."

I understand the impulse to surrender. It's so hard to have faith, to keep believing in something when there's an apparent narrative being constructed in the public eye that tells you you're wrong. It's painful (and feels delulu) to keep believing when you've been let down repeatedly by pap photos you assume are true.

It's very easy to accept a false narrative if you don't have the energy to dig in and really pay attention to all the signs and information available when you look for it. (This is true on the world stage as well, and we should all think very critically about the stories we're being told, but I digress.)

I wrote extensively and in gory detail about how and why I'm so sure about Lukola in my blog post "Nicola and Luke Are Absolutely Together...," which I'll link here for anyone who wants persuasion or reassurance. I won't rehash all of that here, but I do want to touch on a handful of milestones & crumbs, many of which are recent, that make me quite sure about Luke being the man in Nicola's life.

One of the recent assertions I saw was that we need to let go of the significance of the Claddagh ring. (I'm not putting anyone on blast. I can't even remember who said this, and I think it was someone I like, so no offense.) But I could not disagree with this more.

Claddagh rings are worn to represent relationship status more than anything. Yes, they can be given in friendship, but the orientation of the ring on the wearer's finger is fundamental to understanding the ring. Only someone with no connection whatsoever to its heritage or meaning would throw it on willy nilly in any direction they pleased.

Not everyone follows the rules closely. I wore mine for years, on my left ring finger, heart down when I was free, heart up when I was taken. I only stopped wearing it when I replaced it with my engagement ring. (Obviously, I was not following the traditional 4 steps.)

Some wear it just on a single hand, whichever they choose. Some might wear it just while single (even engaged), then replace it when married. Some use it to indicate engagement and marriage when that time comes, others focus solely on taken or not. Admittedly, not everyone follows every step closely.

However, Nicola is from Galway where the ring originated. She is deeply proud of her Irish heritage. There is no chance she would put that ring on any finger with the heart pointing toward her heart unless her heart was taken.

Now, let's remember that she picked that ring up while she was in Galway during the World Tour. She modeled that ring in Chupi photographs, with the heart pointing up (heart taken) wearing the same outfit she wore to the screening. The same screening where she hugged her mother to within an inch of her life, then introduced her mom to Luke. That was the most tearful, emotional intro I've ever seen between a guy and his platonic co-worker's mom, huh?

Hypothetically, could her heart have been taken by someone else at that stage? Well, do you really think a secret significant other — who was important enough to warrant a "heart taken" ring orientation — would be okay with Nicola not only getting the ring while she's physically with Luke (and flirting heavily), but also making that showy, deeply emotional introduction between her mother and Luke? If you were her secret, non-Luke SO, would you be okay with it?

There is literally no chance.

Chupi told us that ring was to commemorate Season 3 of Bridgerton. Again, would a secret, non-Luke SO be fine with her wearing a ring that symbolizes her Polin season with Luke as a symbol of this secret, non-Luke SO's love?

I won't even bother digging into the symbolism of the rings on the hands, but say it were true that she just wanted it to commemorate a special season. If her heart weren't taken, that ring on her finger would have pointed down. She told us the moment those photos were snapped that her heart was taken, and logic tells us that, at that moment in time, it could only have belonged to Luke.

Since then, lots of things have happened. There were pap photos galore, all telling a very different story, right? Again, it's very easy to accept a false narrative when it's spoon fed to you. But gosh, wouldn't those pap photos also provide excellent cover for two people in love, possibly nesting together, who also wanted to keep their love very, very private?

I talk a lot more about this in the above linked blog (and others) and I'm not going to tackle it here. If you don't want to believe it, that's your prerogative, but if you're curious about whether it could possibly be true, I encourage you to have a read.

So set aside the adjacents for now and focus exclusively on our girl Nic. What we know is that she wore that ring consistently through the summer and early fall, on her right hand, heart pointing up (heart taken). Then, in October, she switched it to her left hand.

Again, not everyone follows every traditional Claddagh step, but Nicola is a Galway Girl. If she's been wearing it consistently on the right, then suddenly switches it to the left where she continues to keep it consistently, she's not oblivious to the meaning of that switch. That switch is deeply significant.

Remember, the left hand is traditionally the hand where it's worn to indicate engagement (heart down) and marriage (heart up). And when she switched, she kept the heart pointing up.

Does that absolutely mean she's married? No. As always, we don't know any of them personally, so we can't say for sure. But simple, not-a-reach logic tells us that the way she's worn that ring is significant.

With that ring, Nicola has told us in no uncertain terms that she is in a significant, committed relationship (possibly engaged or married since October). And she's been in that relationship (or at least committed in her heart to that relationship) consistently since at least June (really, late April/early May when she commissioned it).

Will we ever know exactly what happened last summer while she and Luke were apart (Sorrento, Spain, Malta, etc.)? No, we won't — and frankly it’s none of our business (as curious as we may be).

But we know that Nicola's heart was taken by the same person throughout. Because logically, would she really have been so into Luke in June when all of the above happened (commission, putting it on, meeting mom)... then break it off... then, by October, find a new person to be so committed to switch her ring to the left hand? The math just doesn't math on that one.

It was Luke in June and it was Luke in October. And she's still wearing that ring in the same direction as of Wednesday night. So yes, it's still Luke.

But I promised you more recent hints and crumbs to support my certainty. Honestly, @frantastical has this stuff so magnificently catalogued that you really should check out that incredibly comprehensive "Multitude of Morsels" if you haven't already.

Still, here's a small handful of (by no means comprehensive) things I've seen with my own eyes in just the last month that have told me I'm sitting in exactly the right restaurant on exactly the right ship:

New Pink News story posted with an old quote (that would have been approved by Nic's team) where Nicola says, "That's all I want, is the girls and the gays. And Luke."

Both Ryan Wheeler and Shondaland openly shipping Lukola ("get married for real")

Nic's year-end photo dump threaded through with Luke, both directly and indirectly

Luke's year-end photo dump threaded through with Nic

Even one of Nic’s Doctor Who photos, which isn't associated with Bridgerton at all, managed to nod at Luke

Video clip re-emerges of the Featherington women giggling when Bessie teases, "Well, two people fell in looove, I gueeessss," then they all giggle and agree that they can't say who

Both of them unaccounted for over Christmas and New Year's (days that are usually spent with significant others) while the adjacents were both accounted for on both holidays

Old story somehow emerges in which Nicola says Luke makes everything better, and Luke says about the "friends to lovers" story that "that's what happened to us when we met." (I'm probably slightly paraphrasing, but close enough.)

Nicola turns up with a tan

Luke turns up with a tan

Luke comes online very briefly, just long enough to congratulate Nic on her SAG nomination, cheering on his queen, and then he's gone

Nicola posts a birthday photo that appears to be a cozy dinner for two with several hints of Luke, most notably the red and yellow flowers (red is for love; most people focused on yellow being for friendship, and I think that's true, but I also very much think it's for Polin. And either way, "friends to lovers" or "love and Polin," those flowers say Luke.)

Luke likes a Jack Rooke post about Big Boys. Bearing in mind that JR is one of Nicola's longstanding, closest friends, this clearly suggests Luke is getting to know him

Nicola swoops in to distract from last weekend's mess with a new, obviously staged pap drop (based on weather, likely from a while in the past and kept on hand for when it was needed), once again protecting Luke and his family

And then there are a handful of crumbs and hints that point to something else that I've been reluctant to talk about. I still won't get into it here, but I will say that there are definitely recent things that are suggesting to me a very specific, very happy story. These include:

ETA: Photo of Nic with two Dunkin drinks & two straws (drinking for two?)

"Shit Stirrer" tee-shirt, holding shirt just so with photo cropped very particularly (who exactly is the shit stirrer in that photo?)

"May your 2025 be as happy as this potato made me" (which potato?)

Video with the hot water bottle

Big Boys (clearly wearing the ring)

And that is literally all I will say about that. But let's just remember that all of this has taken place while Nicola continues to wear that Claddagh ring on her left hand, pointed toward her heart. Even in those silly pap photos with Jake from Monday.

The only times we've seen her without it were when she wore special, fancy jewelry for events (showy hand jewelry that she could prominently display by placing her hands in front of her stomach instead of on her waist or hips). Every other time, it's either there or her hands are (perhaps intentionally) hidden.

Doubtless some "realistic Lukolas" will read this and say, "But you're ignoring all the photos of Jake and obvious proof of how close they are."

To which I reply, "Yes, I am." Because I've written loads about that relationship, what it is, why it is so heavily documented, and what they each get out of it (other than friendship). Again, if you want to know more, feel free to read my blog. But those photos mean nothing to me because I understand the truth that lies beneath them. I have absolutely nothing against Jake. I think he's been a good friend to Nic, but that's all he is.

Meanwhile, we've seen nary a peep from Luke except to cheer on his girl, and going back a bit further, that very happy looking S4 selfie with Nic. Has anyone ever noticed how much more he smiles with Nicola than anyone else? His actual smile ratio with Nic compared to literally anyone else is off the charts.

So, yeah, it's Luke all the way. I don't know for sure when it started (might tackle that in a different blog), and I'm not sure how many times they've pressed the on/off button before locking in, but I absolutely believe they are fully locked in now. The evidence is everywhere.

As always, I say these two things. First, we know nothing for sure until Nic or Luke or both of them together make it absolutely, incontrovertibly clear to us. So could I be wrong? Yes, it's certainly possible. If I'm wrong, I'll admit it, and I admit right now that I will be heartbroken. I'm not going to front about this. But I don't think I'm wrong.

Second, you are very free to draw different conclusions. However, if you wish to do so, I invite you to consider the evidence as presented first. Especially if you've given up the ship because you're afraid to believe.

Have no fear, Lukolas. The evidence is on your side.

[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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[embbarnes]

giggling and kicking my feet 💕 I loved how this was written, such a fluffy and sweet fic! I don't see very many that are majorly fluffy like this, and it's always so sweet to read!

Ofc my thoughts as I read below the cut ~ I got a little thirsty at the end LMAO

Of all the ways you had been hoping to spend the last few hours of Valentine’s Day, over 30,000 feet in the air next to a snoring man who has never heard of deodorant was at the bottom of your list.

I literally hate flying for this specific reason. I'd buy an entire aisle to avoid this. I don't like being on planes in general, but the people and dealing with the public when everyone is already cranky and irritable is not fun.

Today is your first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and instead of spending it with him, you’re spending it on a commercial flight with dozens of strangers. You can’t help but wonder how many of them are missing their significant other, too.

You know that's true. I've flown around holidays and had flights cancelled, and I wondered how many people would be missing Christmas with their families because of the flight. It's a better perspective to have, instead of just focusing on the negatives, realizing other people are in the same boat you are.

If you’d had it your way, you would have woken up to his face this morning. The two of you would have slept in as late as you desired, and had a slow, lazy morning before cooking him brunch. Waffles, sausage and bacon, scrambled eggs with extra cheese and hot sauce – all of his favorites. You would have taken a stroll through the park before stopping at the bakery that you frequent for doughnuts and coffee, and maybe visited the botanical gardens before your dinner reservations this evening.

Stop this is literally the most perfect day 😭

Valentine’s Day aside, you simply miss him. You’ve been missing him since the moment you left for Nebraska, and you’re more than ready to be back in his arms. This is not the first time you’ve been apart due to work related trips, but this is by far the longest – a whopping seven days.

Nebraska 😭 I will never go back.

You miss the way he wants to keep at least one hand on you throughout the night, the way he talks to Alpine as if she will actually respond, and the way that he hums without even noticing that he’s doing it. All of the seemingly little things that you don’t think much of on a day to day basis, but when you’re apart, make you miss him all the more.

Alpineeee my shaylaaaa 😭💕

Plus, if he had picked you up, it would have ruined your plan to surprise him by stopping by his favorite pizza parlor down the block from your apartment on your way home. Sal’s Pizzeria is always open until midnight, and every year they run specials the entire week of Valentine’s Day on heart-shaped pizzas.

My hometown had a Sal's that just shut down, that's insane. But some places here have heart-shaped pizzas around valentines! I've never had one, but I want to try to this year!

At first, you assume that Bucky is already asleep. But as you walk down the short hallway, you realize there’s soft music playing from somewhere in the apartment. You don't think much of it, since you know that Bucky prefers playing music as opposed to the television for background noise.

What are you up to buck buck...

You stop dead in your tracks when you step into the kitchen. Dozens of tea light candles illuminate the room, placed strategically on the island in the middle of the room. And on the countertops, and the shelves – basically any flat surface twinkles with the delicate flames. You stand frozen as a statue with your mouth agape as you take in the scene before you. In addition to the candles, there’s a spread of food across the island. Plates of delicious smelling pasta, small bowls of soup and glasses of red wine. Tied to the backs of the barstools are red and pink heart-shaped balloons. It looks straight out of a romance movie.

This would make me cry fr. He is so sweet omg.

“Pizza pairs well with pasta, I think,” Bucky's voice breaks you out of your trance. “Can never have too many carbs.” Your gaze snaps over to where he emerges from the den. He wears a bashful smile, and even in the low glow of the candlelight, you can see the faint hint of blush blooming across the apples of his cheeks. He has his hands behind his back, as if trying to conceal something from you. “You did all of this?” You ask lamely. Your voice is barely a whisper and contains a noticeable quiver. “For me?” You can’t wrap your brain around it. No one has ever done anything quite like this for you. All of your ex boyfriends always shrugged off Valentine’s Day, leaving you feeling lucky if you got so much as a card. You’d long ago learned not to expect much of anything. Definitely not anything as intimate and thoughtful as this.

Crying omg. This entire bit is absolutely precious. I love the dynamic and his demeanor sm.

“Who else would it be for? Alpine?” He teases, extending the jar to you. You plop the box onto the counter so that your hands are free to accept the flowers. Upon closer inspection, you realize the bouquet of flowers are not real flowers. Well, yes and no – they’re wildflowers, made of out Legos. You can’t help but giggle, remembering how you had mentioned how cute you think the Lego set is when you saw it while buying some groceries at Target a few weeks ago. You giggle even harder when you picture Bucky assembling all of the tiny pieces of the bouquet with his large, vibranium fingers.

I'm tryinggg to not reblog the entire fic again but it's so hard to contain my thoughts! It's just so thoughtful and special, not plainly and mindlessly picked like roses would be. Which those are fine too, of course, but I like more personalized gifts, ones with thought and meaning behind them like this.

“All I got you is a lousy heart-shaped meat lovers pizza,” you sniffle against his t-shirt and you feel his chest vibrate with laughter. You know that you have the reasonable excuse of being on an assignment in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Nebraska for the last week, but you still feel bad. “Hey,” he murmurs, using his index finger to tilt your face to look up at him. He grins down at you for a moment before tenderly pressing his lips against yours. You melt into him right away, having missed the feeling of his lips on yours in the week that you’ve been apart. His hands travel to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. Your own hands cradle his face, your thumbs caressing the light dusting of stubble that adorns his cheeks. You can already feel the outline of an erection forming through the thin material of his pajama pants when he pulls away, much to your disappointment. “I love meat lovers pizza,” he assures you with a smirk. “And I love you. The best present you could give me is coming home to me.”

I got something else for you too - AHEM. I want to kiss him so bad, it's not even funny. The gentleness, how he presses his lips against the reader is sooo good. I can feel how tender he is. And y'know...I can only imagine how his tent feels too~

You eat together in the glow of the candlelight, with soft music playing in the background and heavy rain beating down against the windows of your apartment. You talk about everything from the details of your mission to what he did while you were away. The food is delicious, the wine he picked out pairs perfectly, it’s cozy and peaceful and romantic – and you realize that you’re enjoying this so much more than you ever would have enjoyed an upscale steakhouse in downtown Brooklyn.

I love how domestic this feels. Something as simple as sharing a meal and talking, but it's so hard to imagine and see Bucky in a calm, loving setting with his life and whatnot. I always really like it when it's included in fics because it's what he deserves.

He opens the shower door, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as soon as his eyes trail up and down your body. The way he looks at you never fails to make you feel like he’s seeing you naked for the very first time, every time. His hands immediately come to rest on your hips, easing you back against the cool tiling of the shower wall. “God, I missed you,” he sighs as he massages his fingers into the meat of your hips. The contrast of his warm flesh hand and cold vibranium hand on your waist has you arching into his touch.

God you really know how to set a scene. You write things out so well, I can vividly see this happening and I want it 😭

He nudges your legs apart with his knee, inserting one of his large thighs in-between your own. You sink your bare pussy onto the expanse of his muscular thigh, dragging your center across him for friction. He kisses you until you’re breathless, and only pulls away to instead latch his mouth over one of your nipples. He rolls it between his lips and tongue, using his hold on your waist to help move you up and down his thigh. He alternates between each nipple, kissing and sucking on each until they’re pert and pebbled.

YEAH SO, EATING GOOD HERE

He presses a final kiss to the side of your neck before pulling away and smirking down at you. He reaches over to one of the shelves in the shower, grabbing a loofah and your bottle of body wash.

I always forget loofah is spelled that way and it catches me off guard anytime I see the word written out 😂

“I’ll have you know that I showered before you got home,” he says as he squirts a dollop of the gel onto the sponge. “I’m just here for your entertainment – and your convenience, of course. Now turn around.”

He's so cheeky I love it

“You’re really going to tease me like that? On Valentine’s Day, of all days?” “Pretty sure it’s after midnight now,” he quips with a smirk.

Still being a brat but I love him for it

You turn so that you’re out of the direct line of the water, and lower yourself to the shower floor. His cock bobs inches in front of your face. You grasp him in your hand, languidly stroking his length as you stare up at him. “Then I guess you’re lucky that I missed you so much.” He opens his mouth to retort, but snaps it shut with a sharp intake of breath when you wrap your lips around his tip. You swirl your tongue around him, lapping up the beads of pearlescent white that had gathered around his slit. You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.

That thing is gonna imprint itself in my throat istg.

Above you, he throws his head back and hisses at the sensation. His metal hand cradles the back of your head, guiding your movements. You gag at the overwhelming fullness, pulling away from him for air. You ease him back into your mouth, setting a steady pace. He rocks his hips forward, meeting your movements with his own. In one hand, you cup his balls, gently massaging the sack. With your free hand, you attempt to relieve the growing ache between your own thighs by rubbing quick circles over your clit. The thrusts of his hips start to grow erratic, and you feel him twitch against your tongue when he suddenly pulls away from you.

This is so hot but I also love his he cups her head like that. I get tired of the grabbing and jerking you around I see constantly. This is much better and sweeter, and I love it.

He wastes no more time, diving into your pussy. His tongue swirls over your clit as he brings one long, metal finger to tease your hole. He nudges it inside as his lips suction around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your folds. Your body goes relaxed, your back sliding down the wet tiling of the shower wall. Bucky helps support you from down below as he sinks his vibranium digit deeper inside you. The coil in your lower belly tightens quickly, pent up from a whole week without his touch. He can always tell when you’re close by the little noises that you make and the way that you tug on the short brown locks of his hair with your fingers. He groans as he licks a thick strip up your slit, sending you over the edge.

Good GOD, girl. I know that metal hand feels soo good up there. His tongue movements and focus are perfect. I love the detail that he knows when she's close, it shows their bond and how tight it is by how familiar Bucky is with her.

Alpine is snoring softly at the foot of your king sized bed, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re even home. Everything is exactly as you left it, from the stack of half finished books on your nightstand to the orange Himalayan salt rock lamp that hasn’t been turned off a single time since the two of you moved into the apartment together. The comfort and familiarity of everything makes you feel all the more grateful to be back home.

Again, another thing I love that you add. These little details that paint the scene are wonderful and it makes the fic feel warm.

“Catch!” He warns before gently tossing it across the bed to you. You catch it, a smile blooming across your face as you sooth your thumb over the velvet material encasing the small box. He walks over to your side of the bed to stand beside you. You raise the lid to box, revealing a dainty gold chain with a capital letter B dangling in the center. You think it’s perfect. It’s isn’t overly ostentatious – it’s the perfect size, and so very you. “Do you like it?” Bucky asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I love it,” you assure him, overwhelmed by how sweet and thoughtful he is. “Help me put it on?”

I want one RN.

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper as you raise up on your feet to press your lips to his. The light flavor of your slick lingers on his lips, sending a fresh wave of arousal through your gut. “So much.” “Of course,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Now lay down. Wanna see how it looks on ya without the towel.”

Move aside...I got this one 😈

Fr such a beautiful, fluffy fic. I loved this one, perfectly soft and tender while being hot with the smutty scenes. Still so, so Bucky. You characterize him so perfectly I am addicted to your writing. Descriptions are always perfect, you add all those little details that I adore, and you know just how to make words feel like home. 💕💕

all's well that ends well to end up with you

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together.

word count: 3.8k

warnings/tags: SMUT, 18+ only mdni, oral (m&f receiving), fingering, nipple play, reader is afab, established relationship, no use of y/n, reader is described as being shorter than bucky, fluffy as hell, sweet domesticity

wrote this for my bb @embbarnes 💕 happy (very early) valentine's day, everyone!

Of all the ways you had been hoping to spend the last few hours of Valentine’s Day, over 30,000 feet in the air next to a snoring man who has never heard of deodorant was at the bottom of your list.

You should have seen it coming from the moment that your two day mission was extended to a three day mission, but you naively held out hope that you’d be able to make it back home in time to salvage the second half of the day.

Getting back early enough to keep the seven o’clock dinner reservations that you’d made for a new, upscale steakhouse in Brooklyn would have been possible if a last minute thunderstorm hadn’t delayed your flight back to New York.

Now it’s already half past seven, and you’ll be lucky if you make it back home before midnight.

Truthfully, you don’t care about the dinner reservations. Sure, you’d heard great things about the food and you had been excited to go, but you could easily reschedule the reservations for another time. The only thing that you were truly bummed about was not getting to spend the day with Bucky.

Today is your first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and instead of spending it with him, you’re spending it on a commercial flight with dozens of strangers. You can’t help but wonder how many of them are missing their significant other, too.

If you’d had it your way, you would have woken up to his face this morning. The two of you would have slept in as late as you desired, and had a slow, lazy morning before cooking him brunch. Waffles, sausage and bacon, scrambled eggs with extra cheese and hot sauce – all of his favorites. You would have taken a stroll through the park before stopping at the bakery that you frequent for doughnuts and coffee, and maybe visited the botanical gardens before your dinner reservations this evening.

Bucky had assured you that it wasn’t a big deal and that the two of you would make up for it when you were back home. He patiently reminded you that life doesn’t take holidays and special occasions into consideration when dishing out things such as extended work trips and inclement weather conditions.

Valentine’s Day aside, you simply miss him. You’ve been missing him since the moment you left for Nebraska, and you’re more than ready to be back in his arms. This is not the first time you’ve been apart due to work related trips, but this is by far the longest – a whopping seven days.

You miss the way he wants to keep at least one hand on you throughout the night, the way he talks to Alpine as if she will actually respond, and the way that he hums without even noticing that he’s doing it. All of the seemingly little things that you don’t think much of on a day to day basis, but when you’re apart, make you miss him all the more.

By the time your flight lands in New York and you catch an Uber back to your apartment, it’s nearly eleven o’clock. Bucky, of course, had offered to pick you up from the airport, but you had insisted that you were okay with getting an Uber, not wanting him to get out so late at night in the heavy rain.

Plus, if he had picked you up, it would have ruined your plan to surprise him by stopping by his favorite pizza parlor down the block from your apartment on your way home. Sal’s Pizzeria is always open until midnight, and every year they run specials the entire week of Valentine’s Day on heart-shaped pizzas.

Knowing Bucky, he’s likely been living off of instant Ramen since you left for your trip, so you figure he’ll be ecstatic over a late night pizza. Not to mention, you’re famished yourself – all you’ve eaten since lunch being the pack of Biscoff cookies you’d been given on the plane.

Lugging your suitcase, a backpack, and the large pizza box, you fumble with your keys before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

At first, you assume that Bucky is already asleep. But as you walk down the short hallway, you realize there’s soft music playing from somewhere in the apartment. You don't think much of it, since you know that Bucky prefers playing music as opposed to the television for background noise.

It’s almost completely dark, minus low orange lighting that trickles into the hallway from the kitchen.

“I’m home, baby,” you call softly as you approach the kitchen’s entryway. “I know it’s late, but I brought you some pizza, if you're hun—”

You stop dead in your tracks when you step into the kitchen. Dozens of tea light candles illuminate the room, placed strategically on the island in the middle of the room. And on the countertops, and the shelves – basically any flat surface twinkles with the delicate flames.

You stand frozen as a statue with your mouth agape as you take in the scene before you. In addition to the candles, there’s a spread of food across the island. Plates of delicious smelling pasta, small bowls of soup and glasses of red wine. Tied to the backs of the barstools are red and pink heart-shaped balloons.

It looks straight out of a romance movie.

“Pizza pairs well with pasta, I think,” Bucky's voice breaks you out of your trance. “Can never have too many carbs.”

Your gaze snaps over to where he emerges from the den. He wears a bashful smile, and even in the low glow of the candlelight, you can see the faint hint of blush blooming across the apples of his cheeks. He has his hands behind his back, as if trying to conceal something from you.

“You did all of this?” You ask lamely. Your voice is barely a whisper and contains a noticeable quiver. “For me?”

You can’t wrap your brain around it. No one has ever done anything quite like this for you. All of your ex boyfriends always shrugged off Valentine’s Day, leaving you feeling lucky if you got so much as a card. You’d long ago learned not to expect much of anything. Definitely not anything as intimate and thoughtful as this.

“Of course for you,” he murmurs with a low chuckle. He saunters over to where you’re still standing with the pizza box clutched in your hands, and pulls what appears to be a bouquet of flowers in a large mason jar out from behind his back.

“Who else would it be for? Alpine?” He teases, extending the jar to you. You plop the box onto the counter so that your hands are free to accept the flowers.

Upon closer inspection, you realize the bouquet of flowers are not real flowers.

Well, yes and no – they’re wildflowers, made of out Legos. You can’t help but giggle, remembering how you had mentioned how cute you think the Lego set is when you saw it while buying some groceries at Target a few weeks ago. You giggle even harder when you picture Bucky assembling all of the tiny pieces of the bouquet with his large, vibranium fingers.

Your eyes begin to well with tears that threaten to spill over. You quickly blink them back, not wanting to show just how emotional the ornate, colorful arrangement of plastic flowers is making you.

Not just the bouquet – all of it. The food and the wine, the balloons, the candles, the forties music playing lowly from the record player in the living room – the sheer amount of time and attention that he put into creating such a romantic display, and all from the comfort of your home.

“They’re perfect,” you murmur, wiping away a stray tear with sleeve of your sweater. You place the mason jar of the plastic flowers in the midst of the spread of food in front of you, making the scene complete.

“It’s all perfect.” He opens his arms to you, and you happily melt into his embrace. He smells of his familiar earthy cologne, and you can’t help but inhale deeply, relishing in the comfort of his scent and warmth.

Even if you’d come home to him passed out in bed, you would’ve been ecstatic to just crawl under the covers beside him. All of this is more than you ever would have hoped for.

“All I got you is a lousy heart-shaped meat lovers pizza,” you sniffle against his t-shirt and you feel his chest vibrate with laughter. You know that you have the reasonable excuse of being on an assignment in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Nebraska for the last week, but you still feel bad.

“Hey,” he murmurs, using his index finger to tilt your face to look up at him. He grins down at you for a moment before tenderly pressing his lips against yours. You melt into him right away, having missed the feeling of his lips on yours in the week that you’ve been apart.

His hands travel to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. Your own hands cradle his face, your thumbs caressing the light dusting of stubble that adorns his cheeks. You can already feel the outline of an erection forming through the thin material of his pajama pants when he pulls away, much to your disappointment.

“I love meat lovers pizza,” he assures you with a smirk. “And I love you. The best present you could give me is coming home to me.”

“Still. I’m going to make it up to you,” you promise with a feather light kiss to his lips. “I promise. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to—”

You’re cut off by a low rumbling noise that sounds from between your bodies – a reminder that you haven’t eaten a substantial meal in twelve hours now. You glance over to the plates of food on the island beside you, inhaling the delicious aroma of the dishes.

“I made an educated guess that you’d be hungry,” Bucky chuckles. He reluctantly drops his hold on your waist and moves to pull the barstool out for you. You hop up, taking your seat in front of a heaping plate of pasta and a bowl of French onion soup. Your stomach growls again at the sight.

“Did you make all of this?” You ask, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. It’s not that Bucky is a bad cook – he has a few go-to meals that are always excellent, but he normally doesn’t stray too far out of his comfort zone.

“I did not,” he admits with a sigh. He takes a seat directly across from you. “I ordered takeout from the bistro down the street before they closed earlier. Heated it all back up when you texted me that you were almost home.”

“Well, it’s fucking delicious,” you mumble through a mouthful of the creamy pasta.

You eat together in the glow of the candlelight, with soft music playing in the background and heavy rain beating down against the windows of your apartment. You talk about everything from the details of your mission to what he did while you were away. The food is delicious, the wine he picked out pairs perfectly, it’s cozy and peaceful and romantic – and you realize that you’re enjoying this so much more than you ever would have enjoyed an upscale steakhouse in downtown Brooklyn.

You both end up being too full of pasta and soup to eat any of the pizza that you’d brought home, but you’re happy that you’ve got a whole pizza to look forward to having for lunch tomorrow.

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him after swallowing the last sip of your wine. “For all of this. It was more than I could’ve hoped for today.”

He reaches across the counter, grabbing your hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. “Of course,” he murmurs against your skin, eliciting goosebumps down your arm. “As much as I wish we could’ve spent the day together, I still wanted to make the last hour of it as special as possible.”

He stands, releasing your hand as he begins to collect the empty plates and glasses. “You go on and get ready for bed, yeah? I’ll clean up in here.”

“Nonsense. It's almost midnight. These dishes can wait until the morning. Just stick them in the sink and come shower with me.”

You don’t even care if the whole apartment still smells of garlic and French onion soup in the morning – you’ve been showering and sleeping without him for the last week, and it’s still technically Valentine’s Day, so you’ll allow the dirty dishes to sit for the next eight hours.

To your pleasant surprise, he needs no further convincing. He piles the dirty dishes into the kitchen sink and puts the uneaten pizza in the fridge while you get the shower water up to temperature. By the time his pajamas fall to the bathroom floor, you’re already standing under the hot stream of water.

He opens the shower door, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as soon as his eyes trail up and down your body. The way he looks at you never fails to make you feel like he’s seeing you naked for the very first time, every time.

His hands immediately come to rest on your hips, easing you back against the cool tiling of the shower wall. “God, I missed you,” he sighs as he massages his fingers into the meat of your hips. The contrast of his warm flesh hand and cold vibranium hand on your waist has you arching into his touch.

“I can tell,” you giggle, pulling his face down to yours by the back of his neck. His mouth slates over yours, his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip. You part your lips for him right away, more than ready to feel and taste him after all of your time away.

He nudges your legs apart with his knee, inserting one of his large thighs in-between your own. You sink your bare pussy onto the expanse of his muscular thigh, dragging your center across him for friction. He kisses you until you’re breathless, and only pulls away to instead latch his mouth over one of your nipples. He rolls it between his lips and tongue, using his hold on your waist to help move you up and down his thigh. He alternates between each nipple, kissing and sucking on each until they’re pert and pebbled.

His erection gains your attention as it juts against your belly. You reach between your bodies, taking his length in your hand and stroking him with ease, the water from the shower making his skin slick.

You whimper above him, desperate for some release. He laughs, peppering kisses across your breasts and up your neck. You feel him smiling into the column of your throat.

“I think you missed me, too,” he murmurs against your pulse point.

“Maybe,” you admit, your voice etched with impatience. “Why don’t we hurry and get out this shower so I can show you just how much I missed you?”

He presses a final kiss to the side of your neck before pulling away and smirking down at you. He reaches over to one of the shelves in the shower, grabbing a loofah and your bottle of body wash.

“I’ll have you know that I showered before you got home,” he says as he squirts a dollop of the gel onto the sponge. “I’m just here for your entertainment – and your convenience, of course. Now turn around.”

You do as he says, turning around to face the shower wall. You brace yourself against the tiles with your forearms, relaxing as he begins to massage the soap across the tops of your shoulders and down your back.

He takes his time, lazily rubbing the skin of the backs of your thighs before reaching around and doing the same to your stomach and chest. As good as it feels, all you can focus on is the head of his cock nudging against the curve of your ass.

“Bucky.”

The word comes out somewhere between a moan and a warning – a warning that if he doesn’t finish lathering your body in the next two seconds so you can rinse the fuck off, you’re going to take matters into your own hands.

“What is it, baby?” he asks innocently, stepping forward ever so slightly so that his cock inches between the space where your thighs meet your ass.

You turn back to face him, grabbing the loofah out of his hand and tossing it to the opposite end of the shower. The stream of water that beats down against your bodies washes the suds down the drain.

“You’re really going to tease me like that? On Valentine’s Day, of all days?”

“Pretty sure it’s after midnight now,” he quips with a smirk.

You turn so that you’re out of the direct line of the water, and lower yourself to the shower floor. His cock bobs inches in front of your face. You grasp him in your hand, languidly stroking his length as you stare up at him.

“Then I guess you’re lucky that I missed you so much.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but snaps it shut with a sharp intake of breath when you wrap your lips around his tip. You swirl your tongue around him, lapping up the beads of pearlescent white that had gathered around his slit. You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.

Above you, he throws his head back and hisses at the sensation. His metal hand cradles the back of your head, guiding your movements. You gag at the overwhelming fullness, pulling away from him for air. You ease him back into your mouth, setting a steady pace. He rocks his hips forward, meeting your movements with his own.

In one hand, you cup his balls, gently massaging the sack. With your free hand, you attempt to relieve the growing ache between your own thighs by rubbing quick circles over your clit. The thrusts of his hips start to grow erratic, and you feel him twitch against your tongue when he suddenly pulls away from you.

“Not gonna cum in your mouth,” he answers when he looks down to see your questioning stare. “Not tonight. Missed you too much.”

He pulls you up by the tops of your arms and eases you back against the shower wall once more. He then takes your place on the floor, kneeling in front of you. He trails kisses along the wet skin of your thighs as he hooks one over his shoulder. He wastes no more time, diving into your pussy. His tongue swirls over your clit as he brings one long, metal finger to tease your hole. He nudges it inside as his lips suction around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your folds.

Your body goes relaxed, your back sliding down the wet tiling of the shower wall. Bucky helps support you from down below as he sinks his vibranium digit deeper inside you.

The coil in your lower belly tightens quickly, pent up from a whole week without his touch. He can always tell when you’re close by the little noises that you make and the way that you tug on the short brown locks of his hair with your fingers.

He groans as he licks a thick strip up your slit, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you, your cunt clenching around his thick vibranium finger as he sucks your clit until you go still above him.

It's then that it hits you that the water from the shower has started to run cold.

“Come on,” Bucky says, rising as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He turns the faucet off and grabs the two towels that hang over the glass wall of the shower, handing you one before wrapping his around his waist. “Let's get out of here. I’ve got one more gift to give you before we continue this.”

“Another gift? You’ve already done so much. I didn’t even get—”

He gently shushes you with a sly grin, exiting the shower before you can protest any further. You pat your skin dry before securing the towel around your chest and then follow him into your shared bedroom.

Alpine is snoring softly at the foot of your king sized bed, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re even home. Everything is exactly as you left it, from the stack of half finished books on your nightstand to the orange Himalayan salt rock lamp that hasn’t been turned off a single time since the two of you moved into the apartment together. The comfort and familiarity of everything makes you feel all the more grateful to be back home.

You grab a bottle of lotion off of your bedside table and begin lathering it onto the skin of your legs as you watch Bucky rummage through the drawer of his own nightstand. After a moment, he pulls out a small, dark red colored box.

“Catch!” He warns before gently tossing it across the bed to you. You catch it, a smile blooming across your face as you sooth your thumb over the velvet material encasing the small box. He walks over to your side of the bed to stand beside you.

You raise the lid to box, revealing a dainty gold chain with a capital letter B dangling in the center.

You think it’s perfect. It’s isn’t overly ostentatious – it’s the perfect size, and so very you.

“Do you like it?” Bucky asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“I love it,” you assure him, overwhelmed by how sweet and thoughtful he is. “Help me put it on?”

You don’t care that it’s the middle of the night, you want it on you right now.

Bucky takes the box from you, carefully removing the necklace. You turn away from him, letting him drape the delicate chain around your neck. The charm lands just below your clavicle.

“There,” he murmurs as he clasps the chain together. You turn back to face him, letting him see his initial displayed across your chest. “Perfect.”

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper as you raise up on your feet to press your lips to his. The light flavor of your slick lingers on his lips, sending a fresh wave of arousal through your gut. “So much.”

“Of course,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Now lay down. Wanna see how it looks on ya without the towel.”

[opt1mistic]

NOT IN THIS UNIVERSE

synopsis: ellie wanted to be her, she wanted to be the person you loved, the person she could go to when she needed to talk, she wanted to be your girlfriend. she tried, she really did. but you just didn’t want the same thing. did you even remember all those times she talked—tried to talk to you? it hurt so much, ellie doesn’t know what to do with herself, with her life. will she ever move on?

warnings: angst, crying(ellie), dina comforting ellie, mentions of a heart attack, reader has a gf, blah blah blah blah… not proofread!! wc: 1k

note: soo this was a request from like a really long, and on my old blog(i wrote it but forgot to post it…heh..)i think this is really bad and some of thee worst angst ive ever written but i cant stop thinking about it for some reason so i’m posting it..

masterlist | ellie masterlist

You were just so beautiful and so irrevocably irresistible to ellie. She just couldn’t seem to stop being so in love with you, she stuck to you like glue, like you were the paper and she was the liquid glue that wouldn’t stick. The paper just kept rejecting the glue.

She’s tried talking to you but you just won’t take the conversation, Ellie will say ‘hi’ and you’ll say ‘hi’ back and it just won’t go anywhere. If a question comes your way from Ellie you'll either nod or not even acknowledge it. It was quite rude if I’m gonna be honest, but you were really just not interested, at all. So Ellie just stopped trying, and stood from afar and looked at you from time to time.

When you were on the way to class, Ellie would be by a wall just watching you walk by, with someone else’s hand in yours. You’re leaving class, and Ellie's behind you also leaving the same class, and again, clinging on to someone else’s arm. Why couldn’t it be her? Why didn’t you like her? it was unfair, unfair that you were dating her and not Ellie.

Ellie wasn’t wanting to force herself onto you, because, well, then you definitely wouldn’t like her. And she also didn’t want to seem or be a creep who’s completely obsessed with you, and she wasn’t honestly, she just loves you, has loved you for so long now.

It hurt loving someone who didn’t reciprocate those same feelings. The only feelings you did reciprocate were the ones you have for your lovely, little girlfriend. I mean you looked like you truly loved her, with how much the two of you were spotted together. Anyone and everyone who talked about the two of you would say something along the lines of “ughh they are just so cute, i could never see them two apart.” and Ellie would nod along, agreeing because you and your girlfriend were cute together, and Ellie could also never see the two of you apart. But she also loved you and wanted to be that person for you. But I guess that place was already taken.

Maybe if Ellie would have talked to you at the beginning of your first year of college when she first saw you, but something told her that it was wrong. Maybe it was faith or something else. But it hurt Ellie very deeply when she found out her chance to be with you was gone, because someone else had gotten it, and now has the key to your heart.

Ellie often cried at night after seeing you with her, it tormented her, that you were being touched by someone else, that you let someone else’s lips touch your own. It tortured her, messed with her head. She’d sit on her bed with tears falling from her eyes, and Dina next to her, comforting Ellie, telling her to forget about you and just move on.

“Ellie, you need to move on, she made it obvious that she’s not interested. and she’s already dating someone. just move on and find someone else that you can actually be with.”

“I can't, dina. i-i i just can’t, you don’t understand,” she sobbed out to dina shaking from the pain you were causing her. Ellie’s cries were loud, possibly heard by her neighbors. She just couldn’t let you go. “I just loved her.” more yelps and helpless cries left Ellie's lips.

The next day she would wake up with such puffy eyes that if they were any more puffier she probably wouldn’t be able to see anything. Ellie would go to her class and see you again, and that fucking girlfriend of yours, and she just break something, dig her knuckles into something and break it. But instead of breaking something she just cried, cried and cried, until she couldn’t, until nothing would come out.

She cried out all her tears for you, and she had none left for you. And maybe it was meant to be like this, that you and her weren’t supposed to be or end up together ever, in any universe, you were just meant to be strangers and nothing more. You were meant to walk past Ellie everyday and not know that she even exists. Forgetting and erasing all those times she has tried talking to you and know her as only a nobody.

and possibly it was faith that she never talked to you that first time she met you, maybe it was meant to be like this. Ellie will continue watching you pass her by in the corridors and watch as your girlfriend kisses you.

Ellie was going to move one and find someone who acknowledged her and wanted her the same way she wanted them. And she’ll never forget you, she will always remember you and keep you close to her heart so that every time she thought of you a piece would break off. and stab her and leave her to bleed out to death.

And she will start to forget you, but then one little thing will trigger the thoughts of you and it will stab and kill her over and over, and over again, until you have no heart to stab with the knife in your palm. And the power you have over her will be completely gone with Ellie's heart, because you were the one who was going to hold and squeeze it forever.

Until there is not a beating heart left to squeeze, Ellie will be dead, of whatever killed her, old age or maybe a heart attack. In the state she is in at this very moment, it feels like a never ending heart attack. She could feel this crying feeling in her chest that feels like millions of heart attacks all at once. That almost brings tears to Ellie’s eyes, but nothing ever comes out anymore. And all this just because of you. And will anything ever fill that empty void that you left in her— in her heart?

©opt1mistic

[crescenthistory]

heh-the anon who said i js sent my first ask and now this is my second!!!!

ok so....is there anything from the 2K event YOU want to write/expand on? like smt YOU wanna do.....cause this is me telling u to do it <3

i love everything youve written so far and i think you should write smt that you kinda wanna do....if that makes sense....not saying ur not happy abt ALL of the asks-i can tell u love ur readers-but js, smt you want to do yk?

this is SO sweet of you my dearest anon, thank you so so much<33 hahaha it's silly but you make me feel seen, thank you for daring to send asks! proud of you. in general, i want to write more drabbles for the valkyries, but i've also had magical!dealer!remus on my mind lately, so that's what we're going for !

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will EXPLAIN magical!dealer!remus

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: kind of drugs but it's mostly magical, systemic injustice, wizarding war without casualties

remus who can't get a stable job seemingly anywhere in the wizarding world because he's a registered lycanthrope

despite the fact that he essentially helped save the entire wizarding world with the rest of his friends – most of which were offered honorary positions in the ministry for their efforts

not remus

he was dirt poor, burnt out and pessimistic about life and institutions

james and sirius tried to various extents to help support him financially, but he would not accept it unless he physically had to

he lived with sirius without paying rent but tried his best not to think about it – especially because after the war he couldn't really stand being away from his friends

still:

"i'm not your charity case, prongs, you have a kid to look after"

"i don't want you to use me to pay off your sins sirius"

"i can take care of myself"

i think he would angrily say "fuck this shit" for a while and work in a muggle bookshop in london while

and maybe he would even enjoy the reprieve

but he would quickly feel isolated

in the wizarding world, he feels that he is not fully understood because he's a werewolf, but in the muggle world he has to even hide the fact that he's a wizard

he winds up applying to random jobs in wizarding london again, everything from shopkeeps and waitressing to pharmacies

throughout his life, remus has used a lot of different medications, ranging from potions to muggle medication to various ~herbs for pain relief

and at hogwarts he always made sure he did as well as physically possible to "make up" for being otherwise highly unemployable

he particularly excelled in DADA, potions and herbology, for obvious reasons

at some point when struggling to pay for the super overprized ingredients he need for the next full moon at an official apothecary that had rejected his application weeks prior, i think a bulb would go off in his head

he would more or less run home to sirius and they would have this conversation:

"if i were to start a business, would you sponsor me?"

"i've been trying to shove money down your throat for years moons, you already know this"

"would you be willing to get your money dirty?"

".... go on"

remus pitches this: he opens a "chocolate store" on the outskirts of diagon alley to serve as a front for him dealing various magical and non-magical herbs, potions, medication, drugs. etc.

everything and anything that unconventional wix could need to get through life that's hard to access

whether that be other werewolves, other "half-breeds", those with permanent magical injuries/conditions that the ministry ignores, those with ptsd from the war, etc.

you need to show registrations or prescriptions to get most lycanthropy potions, pain remedies, etc. which makes it hard to get for anyone flying under the radar or too poor for medical documents

not with remus – anyone can come in and ask for anything

thus, a form of dealership

his intentions are 1) be anti-establishment and say f u to the minister 2) supply the people with what they need without the hellish and discriminatory bureaucracy of the ministry

(unless kingsley becomes the minister in this au, in which he would begin working on the problems from the inside while turning a blind eye to remus' endeavors)

i think remus would also have a designated section for helping treat addiction of different sorts

his pitch stretched on for forever but sirius was with him from essentially his first word

"hold up, i need to rope james into this"

james immediately suggests that the front store should be called "moony's delights"

"... i'll think about it"

the front store would serve as a regular chocolate shop to the average bypasser, so there would often be children stopping by getting chocolate

remus would sell regular chocolate – that i imagine marylily help bring to life – to regular customers

but his real services were to the non-regular wix, for which he's got stacks on stacks of alternative chocolates, in addition to his shelves upon shelves of ingredients and potions

i imagine remus fetches most of the ingredients and brews most of the potions himself, utilising all his expertise

for once, he allows his friends to join in because in his mind they're not just helping him but also the greater good

lily becomes his partner who helps with both chocolates and potions

molly prewett/weasley grows some of the herbs lol

sirius and james supply both any legal patents they need to put down to get a shop and then they preemptively set up a team of top notch lawyers for protection

by the time remus gets around to this, one of the best educated lawyers is their dearest order-member emmeline vance who is more than happy to help out

i believe frank longbottom could be her apprentice

the order of the phoenix remained close friends and kept an "it takes a village" mentality to everything, whether that be getting friends back on their feet or raising the little baby phoenixs

(because they fought way too hard to keep this village to not utilise it to its fullest extent)

it takes a while to get the shop up and running efficiently, of course

at first it's something you need to have heard about from a friend, but as it surges in popularity, more and more wix know where they need to go if they need a fix of any kind

within the "underworld" of the wizarding society, i believe word spread the fastest

and perhaps the knowledge that "moony's delights" sold potions and herbs specifically for various "half breeds" may be contained to just this underworld

while more everyday wix know that they can get general pain relief or help chilling the fuck out

there are so many reader insert ideas i have within this au that could be requested

customer!reader would be fun, but so would business partner!reader who is brought in by lily or emmeline and eventually falls in love with remus

in general i think little punk remus lupin would 100% open a semi-secret dealership while the marauders and co protect him

[coraniaid]

Standard disclaimer that I understand themes and motifs and I'm aware that the reasons characters do things in fiction is because the writers have decided it will drive the plot, rather than because of those fictional characters (who do not in reality exist) being inherently "good" or "bad" people.

Additional disclaimer that I don't think there's any one single reason that Faith ends up spiralling after Finch's death and siding with the Mayor, that the necessary dominoes started falling years before Faith was even Called as a Slayer and that by the time Faith had lost her first Watcher and been living out of a motel room for months and been tricked and betrayed by Gwendolyn Post and accidentally killed a man there probably wasn't anything anyone could have done to stop her from doing all of that.

One more disclaimer: I do not, despite what the rest of this post (or any other posts I may have made or fanfiction I may have written) might suggest, think that Faith's story in Buffy the Vampire Slayer would be somehow improved if she hadn't had the character arc she has in canon. I do not think it would improve the story if Faith hadn't ended up making a series of terrible and short-sided and selfish decisions which ended up making not only her own life much worse but also many other peoples' lives worse [and a couple of other peoples' lives much shorter]. I do not think Faith's fall and eventual redemption is a problem that somehow needs to be fixed.

That being said though ...

Why on Earth, when Giles realizes Faith is lying to him about who really killed Allan Finch, does he decide the best course of action is (1) to pretend to believe her, and (2) make a big show of acting as though Buffy's in a lot of trouble before sending Faith back home to her motel room? In Consequences itself the only excuse he gives is that he "needed [Faith] to think he was on her side" but .. well,

First, newsflash, Rupert: you are meant to be on her side. That is the job you signed up for and are still insisting on doing despite nominally being fired!; and furthermore

This only explains why he pretends to believe Faith. Why does he make a show of throwing the book at Buffy, something that can only help to convince Faith she was right to lie? ("If this is what he's saying to Buffy, his first Slayer and obvious favorite, imagine what he'd be saying if he knew it was me?")

Why not pretend to believe Faith, reassure her she did the right thing by coming to tell him -- and that he's sure she only did it because she knew Buffy needed help -- and then give her the speech he later gives Buffy about how "this isn't the first time something like this has happened" and he "has no plans to involve [the Council]"?

Why not tell Faith that this isn't the first time Buffy herself has been accused of killing a man and questioned by the police? Why not tell her that he himself once accidentally killed a man, and that's something that he and 'Buffy' now have in common? If possible, he could even take Buffy aside and explain the truth to her, and ask her to play along with the charade for now?

Surely if Faith sees that Giles isn't prepared to throw Buffy under a bus, and that he acknowledges that "the Slayer is on the front side of a nightly war" and that "accidents happen", and he's more interested in making sure both of them get the help they need than meting out punishment, she's much more likely to actually admit the truth eventually?

Even if she doesn't want to do that, why not just ask Faith to "sit in" while he talks to Buffy about what "she" did and asks her to explain how she was feeling, so that Faith is in earshot for any advice or suggestions he makes about what to do next? Giles says out loud in this conversation with Buffy that he's worried about "scaring [Faith] off", so ... why is that exactly what he decides to do?

Again, note the disclaimers above: I know the real answer to my question is "that isn't the story the writers wanted to tell". It is necessary for the short-term twist that Faith seems to have convinced Giles to blame Buffy for Finch's death, and for the longer term plot that Giles be unable (or unwilling) to offer Faith any help. I understand that.

But -- in-universe, pretending Giles and Buffy and Faith are all real people -- is there an explanation for this that doesn't boil down to "Giles is a pretty lousy Watcher and should probably not be acting in a mentor role at all?". Why has he decided that the number one priority before anything else must be for Faith to admit it was her, and not the girl Giles can't help but see as a daughter, who killed Finch, when he accepts that -- whoever did it -- it was entirely accidental? If he's not telling the Council anyway and nobody is going to be sent away to be punished, what is the actual issue here?

"There is no help for her until she admits what happened." Okay, Giles, but why have you decided to unilaterally invent this rule, and why do you never use it for anyone else? We saw way back in Faith, Hope & Trick that Giles has no problem at all lying to people who aren't willing to admit the truth in order to help them. If, that is, by "people" we mean "Buffy Summers". Why can't you do the same thing for a girl you don't personally like?

[sunnydbeam]

If you ever do make that beta fic someone else asked for, how would the Y/N react to getting swapped with Biohazard's Y/N and vice versa? Also, go ahead and take some time to answer this. I know how much time it takes to think of a Y/N's personality, plot out the beginning, and just over all storyline- Please don't take this as forcing or demanding in any way, just thought it'd make some good shananagens lol ^^

Awaw don't worry!!

Hoho well, I have to be honest here. That Beta fanfic is already written, and the truth is that it's Biohazard's YN. The fic is rather meant to be seen as a spin-off or “what if?” since, of course, it's far from the meeting I had planned for these two in the original story. In this fic, Beta and YN meet much earlier and under different, friendlier circumstances. If they were two different YNs swapping places, I agree it would be fun! A YN who is used to the calmer personalities of Alpha and Beta being thrown into an unhinged, out of control robot would absolutely give them a heart attack! (and a couple of traumas). While the YN we already know, who has dealt with this mess is instead allowed to meet these two robots, would have a hard time trusting them not to hurt them or get out of control like Biohazard

Alpha and Beta's YN would be a bit more sympathetic about Biohazard's emotions, but they would still be confused about how the robot could become so aggressive, or why the rest decided to keep him locked up instead of actually trying to do something to help him. Biohazard's YN, however, canonically takes longer to understand that robots feel and that Biohazard is going through things that torment him and make him act the way he does, and would then lump Alpha and Beta in the same bag. This, depending on at what point in the story they met

This Beta x YN fic is set roughly between the second arc of Gamma Code, where YN already has a clearer notion and their relationship with Biohazard improved a bit, so it also allows them to trust Beta more easily. This is one of the reasons why I haven't posted the fic yet. It has too many spoilers even though it's not canon, so I thought it was better if you read chapter 2 first to introduce a dynamic that is briefly touched upon in the spin-off

I also think it's important to mention that there is already a character like YN for Alpha and Beta, with a similar role, but it's not YN

[fuck-customers]

Last year I worked at a small student led handicraft store run by my university and it was originally supposed to be a temporary pop-up run by the lecturers who led the events management course. It was the best job I’d ever had - which isn’t saying much because every other job I’ve had has been horrendous and traumatising in ways I can’t even describe - so of course I was overjoyed when they told us they were extending our temporary contracts by a year and keeping the shop open indefinitely.

At that point things started going downhill. The uni stopped promoting the shop at all so our customer numbers dropped dramatically, and the uni’s PR department refused to let us utilise the shop’s social media page despite asking one of the employees to manage the social media and making her take on extra hours. They refused to make the necessary changes in order to make it the permanent storefront they envisioned - All our bookkeeping for every single purchase had to be written in a paper ledger and then copied and reformatted into a dozen different stock and accounting spreadsheets on a laptop, for every single individual item in each sale, before we could take payment, because they refused to pay for software that would automate it, so a single transaction could take anywhere between 5-20 minutes depending on what the person was buying. Many customers ended up getting frustrated and just walked off.

We started haemorrhaging stockists as the uni didn’t pay them fairly or on time, despite pestering from both stockists and floor staff. Even now, nearly 6 months after the whole thing shut down, some stockists still haven’t been paid. The uni took such a huge amount of commission from each sale (nearly 3 times the industry standard!) that the stockists making products couldn’t afford to pay themselves fairly without doubling or tripling the prices of their work, which fucked up their sales. Most people didn’t even earn enough to cover production costs for their work.

I was maybe the only person on the entire staff who actually had any significant retail and customer facing experience, having worked in the fast food and retail industries for ~4 years before I started at the shop, and it was abysmal. The events management faculty who were supposed to be running it had no customer facing experience and did nothing to help when problems came up - they treated it like a temporary event rather than a permanent shopfront and we had so little support and oversight it was awful. We had to take on full management responsibility despite it being well above our pay grade because they refused to hire an experienced manager or supervisor - while trying to man the store we would also have to do admin, liaise with clients and stockists, accounting, stock input, paying for essential supplies with our own money because the Uni refused to approve them, organising our own shifts and pay, making social media content, and arranging cover for if someone was ill or had an emergency. Instead of any reasonable support they sent us a horribly overworked postgrad intern who was working between 5-6 different departments and could only actually be in the store maybe one hour a month, had no idea what she was doing, and was so overworked that she eventually had a breakdown and quit.

This issue was compounded because they’d only ever let us put two employees on each shift - they refused to pay enough for staff numbers above that despite being so busy in the first few months that we couldn’t keep up, and told us that for safety reasons both employees had to be there to open the shop- so if somebody was late or didn’t show up the other person wouldn’t be able to work either. If one person was on a double shift and the second person’s replacement for second shift wasn’t on time, the person on the double wouldn’t be able to leave for a lunch break, and the person on the single would have to stay extra time. There were several employees that would spend the entire shift doing fuck all - one guy was at least two hours late every single shift, and bought his XBOX with him every time, and spent the entire time he was working with his feet propped up on the counter playing GTA. The university genuinely didn’t care about the shop or its success enough to even give him a disciplinary.

It was awful, especially because there were a small group of us who were both stockists and floor staff, and were genuinely invested in the shop’s success. But our contracts ran till the end of the academic year, and the pay was really decent compared to a lot of jobs in the area, and it was stable and above minimum wage, so we (the staff) really did try to make it work, but we were set up to fail. Eventually we were barely making a sale a day, and then it dropped to a sale a week.

When they closed the shop, right before the end of the semester when people’s rent would be due, they gave us 10 days’ notice - which went against our contract - and no redundancy pay. Most people had had shifts for the next 8-9 weeks already scheduled, which we never got to work. We never got our holiday pay or the Christmas bonus they’d promised us 9 months prior. It was such short notice that several people couldn’t find new jobs in time, couldn’t scrape enough together to pay their bills and rent on time, and they didn’t even have the decency to tell us we were losing our jobs in person - they sent out a single email to one of the girls who helped organise shifts, and she had to post it in the staff group chat.

And the sad thing? It was still the best, least stressful job I’ve ever had. It was the only job I’ve had that didnt actually make me want to die. I miss it like hell. It was the only job I’ve had that paid me above the legal minimum wage. I’m physically disabled, and it was the only job I’ve ever had that actually followed through on the reasonable adjustments and disability accommodations they’d promised me.

But the way it was run it wasn’t fair or sustainable , and it shouldn’t have ended the way it did.

Posted by admin Rodney

[acourtofthought]

"Why was Gwyn even in the BC if SJM wasn't intending to make her Azriel's endgame??"

Idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

Why was Azriel wanting to get on his knees for a taste of Elain and pulling her hair back to kiss her if SJM intended on ENDING them in a BC?

It's not like they had any of those types of scenes anywhere else in the book. But yeah ... sure... SJM chose to end Elriel in a BC by writing the hottest, most anticipated almost kiss scene in the entire series ..... instead of you know.... not mentioning them at all....

“You drove me mad,” he growled, and the sound trembled down my neck, along my breasts until they ached. “I searched for you, and you weren’t there. When I didn’t find you,” he said, bringing his face closer to mine, until we shared breath, “it made me pick another.” I couldn’t escape. I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to. “She asked me not to be gentle with her, either,” he snarled, his teeth bright in the moonlight. He brought his lips to my ear. “I would have been gentle with you, though.” I shuddered as I closed my eyes. Every inch of my body went taut as his words echoed through me. “I would have had you moaning my name throughout it all. And I would have taken a very, very long time, Feyre.” He said my name like a caress, and his hot breath tickled my ear. My back arched slightly.

I cried out as his teeth clamped onto the tender spot where my neck met my shoulder. I couldn’t move—couldn’t think, and my world narrowed to the feeling of his lips and teeth against my skin. He didn’t pierce my flesh, but rather bit to keep me pinned. The push of his body against mine, the hard and the soft, made me see red—see lightning, made me grind my hips against his. I should hate him—hate him for his stupid ritual, for the female he’d been with tonight … His bite lightened, and his tongue caressed the places his teeth had been. He didn’t move—he just remained in that spot, kissing my neck. Intently, territorially, lazily. Heat pounded between my legs, and as he ground his body against me, against every aching spot, a moan slipped past my lips.

More—I wanted the hardness of his body crushing against mine; I wanted his mouth and teeth and tongue on my bare skin, on my breasts, between my legs. Everywhere—I wanted him everywhere. I was drowning in that need. His nostrils flared as he scented me—scented every burning, raging thought that was pounding through my body, my senses. The breath rushed from him in a mighty whoosh.

Sarah couldn't care less about your "hot" scene when she's written hotter in the actual books and they still weren't endgame. Not when she constantly had Az thinking on how wrong it was to be with Elain, how she was too innocent and hopeful, how he couldn't think of a single thing he liked or admired about Elain.

Not when you still can't say with certainty that the reason she was aroused is because she could scent her mate in the house and Az was the easiest outlet for her (at Nesta's insistence she "go out and fuck strangers") because she's being stubborn. A typical Archeron trait.

Sarah writes lust well, but Sarah writes romance even better and you did not have romance.

Accept it and move on. I know Az and Elain did when it's been months and they've shared zero interactions since then. He sure had moments with Gwyn after Solstice though, didn't he?

[mimi-saurio]

Re-watching Jimmy Neutron and wanna make an appreciation post.

When I was a kid I always thought that Jimmy was cool, not like the typical smart kid who's allergic to everything, or annoying as hell about his intelligence. Now I realize the reason he was cool in my eyes was his selfishness, Jimmy does his inventions not only for his science curiosity but for his own benefits, to have fun with Carl and Sheen, to prank Cindy, to impress Betty, TO WIN SOMETHING. It was in the way he used science and his brain to fulfill his boyish antics, like sending the teachers to space so the kids could have a week off, or when he took his friends on a trip to the dessert just because the class was boring, or when he hypnotizes his parents to keep getting birthday presents to build his hypercube.

I also notice the great friendship between Carl, Sheen, and Jimmy. The first thing you learn in season 1 is that they would be friends even if Jimmy wasn't a genius. They like him and being smart is just the plus that gets them into more interesting scenarios, and Jimmy also enjoys their company (although in season 3 he gets annoyed more easily with them, but c'mon it's justified)

Judy and Hugh are the first representation of a healthy relationship I got in animation, FIGHT ME. I highly believe that Jimmy gets to act his age because his parents raised him with love and no pressure. Smart or not if he needs a scold he will have it, if he gets prized they are proud and happy for him, and no matter what they just love their son. AND THEY LOVED EACH OTHER SO MUCH UGHHH it makes me sick, HUGH SPEND HIS LAST DOLLARS ON JUDY'S RING TO PROPOSE, and then told Jimmy that A MAN HAD TO HAVE PRIORITIES, meaning the love of his life over millions of dollars. IT KILLS ME UUUUGHHH.

OF COURSE, JIMMY WOULD BE A ROMANTIC if he grew up watching their parents doing nothing but love and care for each other. Jimmy learning "the walking man" from Hugh it's POETIC CINEMA, BYE.

About Jimmy and Cindy, as a kid I never noticed the period where they became friends, S1 is all about them hating each other (the crush is there but not as hard) S2 is them developing trust, they actually became friends by papers in the season final (the crush was heavy) and by S3 Cindy and Libby are include in Jimmy's plans and adventures with the boys naturally (also Libby and Sheen's relationship is established by this point too and Jimmy and Cindy are literally fighting their feelings for each other)

Stranded S3 E7 is probably the episode that resolves their Love/hate dynamic, they realize that most of their fights are over the pressure of being more intelligent than the other, and once they are away and alone they leave their guard down. Again, Hugh and Judy raised a gentleman, Jimmy has every little gesture with Cindy.

I'm insane but this little gesture, the "you go first" is such a great detail in his character. Then he goes and opens as many oysters as he has to find a pearl for Cindy, PRIORITIES indeed. Cindy by the end tries to convince Jimmy to stay on the island and it just hit me like, the girl has a lot on her shoulders, classes, grades, the constant to prove that she is worth it as Jimmy is, and this is not on him to blame, but her mother, her status and the way the city price Jimmy when he goes and does something beneficial but completely ignores others kids gifts.

A lot to say about the show and I can go for hours if I can, but this is for now, such a classic and well-written comedy, chill and funny, yet interesting.

English is not my main language so, sorry for the bad grammar, thanks for reading and bye.

[r--c]

¿Was Rina Palenkova a Neo-Nazi? (Allegations)

On November 23, 2015, 16-year-old Russian student Renata Kambolina died by suicide in Ussuriysk. Her death drew attention online, particularly her last post on VKontakte (where she went by the name Rina Palenkova), in which she wrote "nya,bye". Kambolina's death has influenced and been exploited by Russian "death groups" that encourage teenagers to take their own lives.

These are old usernames from the steam profile that Rina owned. the 14 and 88 numbers are combinations that white supremacists use.

14 refers to the slogan, "We must secure the existence of our people and a future for white children" 

88 is used as a replacement for HH (Heil Hitler)

These symbols are often used together, whether by National Socialists or simply by edgy teenagers. Unlike some of the other points, Rina most definitely knew the meaning behind this slogan. Rina also used the word Пидор twice in these name changes, which translates to the word fag.

As for the Т.Н.Н. in her name, it has been suggested that this was another reference to the 88 symbol. However, these letters were written in the Cyrillic alphabet, so it is unlikely.

(there was a small debate of the username ''КУНЫ.НЕ.НУЖНЫ'' that rina used, so ill just leave the two comments discussing about the real meaning behind it)

I want to add more about the username part. About the username of ' КУНЫ.НЕ.НУЖНЫ' , i did some of my own research and im assuming it translates to 'coons are not needed'. Coonies is a racial slur referred to black people. So therefore in a nutshell its saying 'black people are not needed' And this can be further linked by the '14/88' meaning and overall racism and support further existence for white people, while not for other races (especially referred to black people here).

No, no, no. This has nothing to do with racism. The slogan "тян не нужны" literally means "girls are not needed." "Тян" (tyan) is a Russian interpretation of the Japanese nominal suffix "chan", among Russian fans of anime culture, as well as among users of the imageboards, this word has become essentially synonymous with the word "girl". The slogan was used by guys who accused girls of consumerism and excessive demands on a potential partner. In response to this slogan, another one appeared–"Куны не нужны", which literally means "Guys are not needed." Kun (кун, plular: куны) is also a Japanese nominal suffix, which has become synonymous with the word "guy" among Russian weebs.

The skull mask Rina wore has connections with the alt-right, while not being inherently fascist. Its popularity with the alt-right stems from Atomwaffen, an extremist Neo-Nazi organization that used the mask in its propaganda material. This was likely due to the mask's resemblance to the Totenkopf, a symbol appearing on uniforms during Nazi Germany. The mask itself was once popular for reasons unrelated, but due to this association the usage has significantly dropped. Russians during 2015 likely paid little attention to the meaning, if the association was even present at the time.

The kolovrat is a Slavic neo-pagan symbol representing the Sun. In recent years the symbol has become controversial, mostly due to misinterpretations of its history, meaning, and usage by Nationalists. While the kolovrat has been adopted by far-right groups in recent decades, the symbol itself is not inherently fascist. Some people have speculated that Rina's necklace with this symbol insinuates she was a Nazi, despite her Russian ethnicity. Although there's no way to know, it's unlikely that her kolovrat necklace in particular is evidence of her being alt-right. For those interested, this is a more in-depth article on the kolovrat

While we don't know the intentions behind their actions, Alexey most definitely had an impact on the way Rina behaved. A commonly referenced source for the Nazi claims is this photo, where Alexey does the Nazi salute.

In December of 2015, Rina's mother told someone that the negative changes she had seen in her daughter were to do with Alexey. One of Rina's friends confirmed the same thing; Alexey definitely had some influence over the way she behaved, and claimed she was a National Socialist.

In response to a question by an user u/Brat2001 about Alexey being a Nazi, his girlfriend Asya (Alex's new girlfriend) said No, but he may be racist. It is unsurprising that he would act that way in 2015 when he was young and times were different, but it does seem that he isn't completely rid of those behaviors, he is most definitely a National Socialist.

LINKS:

original post - brat2001's question - steam account of rina

INFORMATION OF HER STEAM ACCOUNT:

profile - friends - info - games - screenshots

[panomiels-box]

『more project eden's garden ramblings ≫ spoilers! ⚠︎』

my thoughts on the potential meanings of the newly released imitation drawings (jett and ulysses + kai) by nifast greentail

⚠︎ TW for sensitive topics

jett

≫ let's begin with jett's. this is clearly a reference to his drag racing accident that left him with burn scars. the word 'confess' is engraved on the trophy he's holding, and a threatening shadowy face is also reflected on it. there's a small skull with a hat just behind it too, almost blending in with the flames on jett's head. just from these details alone, my take away is that the real jett dawson actually died from that accident, and someone has been pretending to be him since.

i think that "someone" is probably his twin, and i'm just kind of rolling with that because jett is a gemini and i also just like the idea lol. perhaps he had a twin so jealous of his talent, or so stricken with grief from his death that they started pretending to be him, either to a point they actually think they are jett, or are aware that he is dead and pretends to be him to not worry his family, friends, and fans. which means that the real reason why they won't show their face despite being jett's twin and therefore pretty identical in appearance, is because they don't have any major scars or burns, so showing their perfectly unharmed face would give away that they are in fact, not jett.

ulysses

≫ let's move on to ulysses's. in it, we can see him sitting behind a greek (?) statue that's covered in mushrooms with its head broken off. ulysses is writing in his notebook, and we can peek inside that he is writing himself reminders of basic essential needs (to eat, breathe, feel, shower...) as well as others that aren't fully visible but can be guessed: sle[ep], brush [teeth], and reme[mber]. my thoughts on this is that ulysses was neglected growing up. i believe we can also infer that from some of the things he says in chapter 1, so this illustration really reinforces it for me.

ulysses eventually found refuge in studying history, and his whole world proceeded to evolve around it. i believe the neglect he went through causes him to very regularly forget to take care of himself and his basic needs. combine that with his immense interest for history, he becomes even more likely to forget these things due to how engrossed he can get. he's highly likely suffering from memory loss due to the trauma. he might've even changed his name due to this - ulysses isn't a super common name after all, and i also don't see neglectful parents choosing a name like that for their kid.

in fact, i wonder if the word ulysses is writing starting with "reme" is supposed to be just the word "remember", as in to imply "remember this important part of yourself that you've forgotten" or simply another reminder similar to eat, sleep, etc... but considering those don't have the word "remember" written before them, i believe in the former more. or, it's not at all the word remember, but maybe "remedy", or any other word starting in "reme". what that could mean however, i don't know...

kai

≫ now let's talk about the last one, kai's. he is seen in a bathroom, completely hunched over an open toilet with his phone beside him, surrounded by pink butterflies. his expression is hidden by his natural black hair, although his reflection in the mirrors behind him show his pink hair and the black sweatshirt he usually wears.

my immediate take away is that kai used to suffer from an eating disorder. that's just how the illustration speaks to me. i think it's not too much of a shot in the dark considering he's the ultimate influencer, and before receiving the title he was already an online personality. therefore kai, from a super young age, has been constantly scrutinised by strangers, and being online all the time routinely exposed him to the insane standards that's put online. plus knowing how kai is, which is clearly very sensitive on what people think of him, i wouldn't be too surprised if he ended up developing an ed from stress and other factors. we don't really know about his home life either after all, apart that he lives alone (?) from his ftes.

as for the black hair and pink butterflies (and the person (who's also kai) standing in front of him, reflected in the mirror on the left), i think it's supposed to represent this was how kai used to be, and not how he is now. considering butterflies can symbolise things like rebirth, change, self-discovery etc, i think kai was able to find a way to heal. i did put down social medias as the potential cause for his ed, but maybe it's also what helped him make a recovery. the people he met through it, and his fans in general, provided him with support and love he probably really needed. combine that with therapy, and i can see kai blossoming into who he is now.

end note

alright, that's all i have to say i think! what amazing illustrations. i'm somehow even more hyped for what's to come with this game!! so so cool. go support nifast and check out his other imitation drawings! i'll probably do a few more posts analysing the other ones ♡

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

OOH WAIT been meaning to ask this bc I know ppl have lots of varying opinions on the matter:

Batgirl: Convergence

How do we feel about it, Re: Steph?

It's been a long time since I most recently reread it so I can't really summon too many thoughts on it- I remember doubting that Steph would've quit being a vigilante in the dome, even if I liked her nursing career, I liked her roommates dynamic with Cass, and I liked a couple of Steph's jokes and bits (yelling at killer moth that he's wasting her time, singing "We Are The Champions" when she knocked out catman). I also remember loving how Steph was drawn but that's just cause I'm way biased towards Rick Leonardi's art.

Would love to hear your take on it though, bc I've heard people say they love how it depicts Steph, or they hate how it depicts Steph, or they're indifferent, etc etc. curious for your thoughts

Okay I won’t lie I hadn’t read Convergence Batgirl before receiving this ask, because I didn’t know about Convergence Batgirl. I’m not going to get into it bc no one cares but the way I started reading comics was a little stupid insane, so I’ve read a LOT but there is a chance any book which wasn’t published in an ongoing or which I couldn’t find out about by reading ongoings I just might not having heard of.

All this to say: glad to know about it now! Thank you for asking me about it! I’ve read it twice now but my review and opinions might change with time and as I think about it more. Also this is really really fucking long, hope you don’t mind.

I had a pretty similar take to you abt Steph’s nursing career. I really liked Steph being a nurse, it felt like a good choice for Steph. But I also had similar and pretty major gripe with it: I just can’t see Steph giving up Batgirl to be a nurse unless it’s an evolution of her character. We all know Steph is stubborn as fuck and I can’t see her abandoning the mantle of Batgirl with anything less than an absolute decisiveness about how she could best help people. It would never be a backing down, as Convergence seems to portray it as. I just can’t see Steph quitting being Batgirl the way she does in Convergence, because of nebulous reasons which never really get explained, and especially given her Batgirl 2009 progression.

I was a fan of the moment Steph mentions her pregnancy. Steph mentions her pregnancy/her baby two times I can think of in the entire time between the aftermath of her giving birth and the new 52: when she talks to Cass on the rooftop and when is dying at the end of War Games. Two is not a lot of times. Would more mentions make the arc somehow better written? No. Would it benefit Steph’s character? Maybe, maybe not. Do I think it says something that DC has the balls to do a horribly executed teen pregnancy arc but not the balls to meaningfully acknowledge that choice again as consequential to Steph’s character? Yeah.

I think especially given how much time has passed for Steph and how much she’s grown as a character, her thinking about her pregnancy and especially how it’s shown as something that she uses to help her help people, is pretty well executed and intriguing to me. Again especially so because we get so little reflection about the pregnancy from Steph normally.

One little nitpick about it though. Steph reassures the pregnant teenager she’s aiding with birth that the amount of pain as she pushes is ‘normal’ and reassures her that Steph gets it. The dialogue doesn’t make as much sense if Steph had a c-section, which she did. It’s not like the biggest issue, just something small. (I’m like the Cinemasins of stephanie brown aren’t I? Damn.)

I was also very curious about the gendering of the baby, it’s something Steph does during War Games as well, referring to the baby as a girl despite specifically choosing when she gave birth not to know the gender of her baby. Even her dream sequence in Robin #65 is very very careful with language, the baby never is gendered. Once I feel like I can chalk up to author error, but if it’s occurred twice now I feel comfortable assigning an in-world explanation for this. I’m thinking it’s projection, just how Steph sees her baby and thinks about ‘her’. The dream sequence and her own twisty way she combined her own childhood with her baby’s potential one and plain old intuition combine and cause Steph to start thinking of her baby as a baby girl post pregnancy. She isn’t trying to think about it. She actually spend a good deal of time trying not to think about her baby, especially at first, about its eye color or where it’s sleeping at night or its gender. But inevitably thinking about her baby as a girl just trickles into her brain, until she doesn’t think twice about it and she refers to her baby as a girl even in the rare conversation, even while knowing she made that choice to not really ever know. (Okay tangent over)

Steph as an animal lover is interesting to me, as an extension of her defender of voiceless / victims shtick I think it works for her, but on the other hand it makes me think of the panel where she kicks this evil goose and then I laugh. I genuinely can’t think of any other notable moments of Steph and an animal interacting, besides the evil goose and the other brainwashed animals in the Robin 80 Page Giant. But sure, Steph as an animal lover is cute. No gripes with that. I like the description of her eyes as cow-like, that was fun to me.

Unfortunately Cass’s characterization felt off to me. I liked that they lived together, that was cute, but Cass didn’t really seem like herself. I don’t think she made a single expression the whole book. Also they gave her blue eyes which is crazy to me.

I did find it really funny when Steph jokingly refers to Cass as honey. I thought it might’ve been a Future State esque situation again where DC lets them be a (plausibly deniable) couple ONLY in alternate universes to the main continuity. Obvs not how it ended up playing out in Convergence, but still funny to me.

I wasn’t a fan of how much Steph devalues her own skill. I felt like a solid chunk of Steph’s internal narration was downplaying her abilities and doubting herself. It’s in character, don’t get me wrong, specifically in any pre batgirl2009 story. But it felt super out of place in a story which takes place after Batgirl 2009 has occurred. Because bg2009 serves as such a huge self confidence and self worth glow up for Steph, it felt like a huge step back for her. It’s one thing if it was just about her being out of practice, but it went beyond that. I can also see Steph having periods of lower self esteem and regression to old feelings about her self worth, but it feels like we’re missing an inciting incident for that. I would say her quitting Batgirl is the obvious answer, but the issue is I don’t think Convergence does a good enough job justifying that choice either, so I feel like I need an emotional inciting incident to explain Steph’s choice to quit Batgirl as well.

I thought it was a strange choice to say that Steph and Tim became a couple In the nebulous post bg2009 but pre-convergence-Dome period of time. I like the terms they were in Red Robin and Batgirl (2009) with the slightly sour but playful banter of exes who know eachother too well. This portrayal felt much less grounded in their history. The romantic throughline also came out of left field to me, given we didn’t find out that Steph and Tim had even gotten back together only to have broken up again until the second issue.

I will say I love the way Kwitney brings the realistic toll a crime fighting lifestyle would have taken on Steph and Tim into the story. It rarely gets explored, and I love when scars or long term injuries get acknowledged. Also kind of a sweet scene despite it all.

On the topic of Steph and Tim in Convergence Batgirl, I really liked this panel.

Something about this really speaks to me. I have to think on how it works w Steph’s character more, but I really do like this for her. And also the ref to Tim and Steph’s first date w the swing set is cute.

The thing with Convergence: Batgirl is that it’s asking a question about Stephanie Brown. By making her the champion for Gotham, and constantly comparing her to those better suited for the role, the comic pushes this question over and over again; Why is Steph ‘special’? Why her?

It’s a specific question abt why she would be chosen to be the champion, but it’s also a more general one which investigates the nature of Steph as a character. It’s a question she’s been leveled a lot as she’s been alternatively valued or devalued over time.

Kwitney comes to one main answer: Steph is good because Steph is resourceful and unpredictable. It’s Steph’s creativity and willingness to talk things out and pursue nonviolent solutions which allows her to best killer moth, (did the dome turn him back to a normal guy you think? Pretty sure he was still a Huge Moth Monster last we saw him) subdue the stampeding crowd of Gothamites, and convince Catman to surrender in order to win the challenge.

While this answer works, I don’t think it’s quite right. In fact, I think Batgirl Convergence accidentally refutes and reverses the real thing that makes Stephanie Brown ‘special’: her indomitable perseverance and will.

Steph gives up Batgirl, which is not portrayed as a choice to evolve into a role she feels she could help more people as, but as a kind of ‘giving up’ that ultimately turned out for the best.

Steph seems to give in to Tim, at first expressing anger over being dumped by being ghosted, because Tim no longer wanted to date her when she wasn’t Batgirl, and then seemingly giving in to his desire to rekindle their relationship without even discussing the situation again or expressing her feelings of betrayal. Those feelings aren’t resolved, they are abandoned.

And Steph wins as a champion, the genesis for Convergence’s investigation into what makes her a worthy vigilante, by convincing Catman to give up, stating that if he didn’t, she would. Does she actually give up in the fight? No. But the language of ‘giving up’ as Steph’s only path to victory in a game about what makes her valuable is so intriguing to me.

For the record, I don’t think Stephanie in Convergence Batgirl is constantly quitting, or somehow not stubborn. She perseveres, yes, but I do think there is a strong irony in these big story beats in Convergence revolving around Steph doing the very opposite: giving up.

And while Steph is certainly resourceful, and certainly unpredictable, her strongest point to me will always be the fact that she never does give up, no matter what the odds, no matter what she’s told. So in that way, I do think Convergence Batgirl fails. It asks this question about what makes Steph a worthy vigilante and then refutes the best answer entirely. Because of that, to me, it fails to explain what makes Steph special, it fails to answer the key question it asks to a standard I’d agree with.

Side note, I don’t know why Steph can never get writers who have written for her before. I find that unfortunate. That being said, I do think Kwitney did a solid job of understanding Steph’s character. Not perfect, but to me it’s clear she tried to ground Stephanie in her past.

I feel I might be more critical if I didn’t have new52 Steph Brown to stack it up against. At least this is a pre flashpoint story where I know her history as a character is pretty much intact. This world, even if elements are different, feels familiar.

Overall, it was a nice read despite its flaws. I think it messes up some important things about Steph’s character, but it also gets quite a few things right. My opinion might change with more time though. Thanks again for the ask, I’m curious as to what you think if you wanna weigh in!

[freakinator]

I didn’t want to say I dislike the cc because that never fares well but um u worded the exact same reasoning I had and made it make more sense with how bad it is by solidifying it in words how even after that arc the way they are proceeding with it makes it even worse, frankly uh the character is poorly written since continuity is very important and improvements can always be made and the cc is very ignorant about it and excusing everything with being a cc and being defensive and not wanting to be criticized and not wanting to upset there chat and using there past as reasons to not look into it or the pain and uncomfortableness they have made to several hundreds of viewers on both ends due to it

Sad and horrible and being numb isn’t an excuse and the cc is not a viewers friend and they don’t have to give them multiple chances um thanks for making light of how bad it’s been sounding and that I am not weird for thinking like that

yeah its why the only kazam fans ive liked are the ones who like the toxicity and dont bother to defend it in any way cause like yeah if they like this type of storytelling i cant really blame them for being happy cause thats what they like and lowkey im a little jealous cause when it comes to preferences i take Everything into account including but not limited to how the audience and the cc talks about it meta-wise and. well. lets just say its not been very endearing for me

[blitzwhore]

Hello! I'd like to ask if you've seen the post with the screenshots that says Stolas inflicts his own torment by going with Stella's whims despite having more power and prestige than her. There is a rebuttal, of course, but someone else also added that the reason people think as the screenshot says is because the writers didn't put enough emphasis and reason on the hold Stella has over Stolas and his fear of her, as well as the fact that her apparent uninvolvement with Octavia makes his reason to stick with her seems very weak. They do put an intriguing essay on how the fear of Stella for Stolas could have stand out more.

Personally I think that he's probably desensitised and numb to her after with Paimon as well and the image of a nuclear family is a must for both society and daughter. Perhaps we'll have more answers in s3. What do you think?

Drink water regularly, may a good week come to you.

Hi! I haven't seen that post, no.

When I see posts arguing about the quality of the show's writing I almost always ignore them, because I'm not interested in discourse and I want my blog to be a place that's fun for me and others to scroll through. I don't want fandom wank and 'criticism of the show' on my blog because I go into fandom spaces to have fun, not to get angry. So if I'd seen that post, I probably would've just sighed really hard and kept scrolling.

That being said, because this ask touches on a subject matter that is extremely personal to me, I'll bite and share my personal opinion, which is that the writing is perfectly executed exactly as it is. Helluva Boss is a show for a mature audience—it says so at the beginning of every episode. That doesn't just mean "hey, there's sex and drugs in these episodes". It also means, "hey, some heavy themes are going to be handled in this show, and we're not going to hold your hand and walk you through them. It's up to you to use your media literacy and critical thinking skills to pick up on the things we're going to show you".

And maybe it's because I'm an abuse survivor myself and I know exactly what it feels like to go through decades of abuse, and maybe other viewers' interpretation of Stolas' character is completely different, but... I personally had zero trouble picking up on Stolas' motivations, fears, and emotions, or on why he made each decision at each turn throughout the show.

I'll put the rest of my answer under a cut, because it's personal and rambly. But in short: yeah, I do agree with what you said at the end of your ask.

1. "He's more powerful and has a higher status than Stella, so he's inflicting his pain on himself by not standing up to her"

So there's this thing called learned helplessness, and, fun fact, it is heavily linked with PTSD and depression.

"(...) Learned helplessness occurs when someone repeatedly faces uncontrollable, stressful situations and does not exercise control when it becomes available. They have “learned” that they are helpless in that situation and no longer try to change it, even when change is possible." (source)

It's not about the power and capability to control the situation Stolas actually has. It's about the power and control he feels he has—which is none. Zero. He says this to us constantly. "Owl in a cage", "you have no choice", "my entire life's been written in stone, he taught me that I could choose".

He was told since he was a kid that his duties, his marriage, his life trajectory were non-negotiable. He never knew a life outside of his palace—his gilded jail. He doesn't know what we as the audience know—that there's a whole world out there where he can build a better life for himself with people who actually love him—because he's been raised to be a pawn in a game much bigger than himself, and he knows it. I don't need (and don't want) the show to spoonfeed me this fact. It's spelled all over his character if you know how to see it.

2. "Stella's hold of Stolas and his fear of her aren't emphasised enough in the show"

Stella literally tries to hit him at the end of The Circus and looks shocked and taken aback when he grabs her wrist to stop her. I don't need them to show me Stella hitting Stolas 15 times in order to know she's been doing it.

He hugs himself and makes himself small, walking away to remove himself from the situation as quickly and quietly as possible, when Blitz starts yelling at him in The Full Moon. I don't need them to show me Stella yelling at Stolas 20 times to know she's been yelling at him for years. We've seen her yelling at him in Loo Loo Land, in The Circus and in Seeing Stars. We know it happens. We know it always has.

I also don't need them to tell me that repeated physical and verbal abuse causes a victim to become extremely afraid of their abuser and causes them to be triggered by anything and anyone that makes them feel unsafe, because I've lived it in my skin. And I know plenty of people who watch the show who are not abuse survivors, and they're also able to see that Stolas is behaving like any abuse victim exactly with zero support would act.

In the moment, he freezes and flees. He makes himself smaller. He gets away from the situation in any way he can. He "keeps the peace" to keep the abuse to a minimum, doing anything and everything to please the people around him because that's the only way he can feel some semblance of control. ("Yes, if that's what Blitzy wants" / "Do you like it when I talk to you dirty?" / just him sheltering Octavia from his suffering to be the perfect parent for her, and give her everything she could ever want and need, going as far as making promises he couldn't keep).

In the long run, he becomes hopeless and drowns in guilt. He assumes he probably deserves what's happening to him, and thinks it's his own fault that he's so affected by the abuse for being too weak to stand up for himself. He blames himself for not being good enough for the people around him ("I'll believe him, and not the voice that says I'm not enough"), and mentally berates himself for being a coward and a failure, and for not knowing how to put an end to his suffering. He turns to passive (sometimes active) suicidality because that's genuinely the only way he can see of getting back control over his own body and life. ("When I'm gone you'll be okay" / "I'll give my life to clean your slate" / "I don't care what they fucking do, I'm seeing Octavia" / "do it, pussy").

3. Stella's uninvolvement with Octavia makes Stolas' reason to stay with Stella seem very weak

I... Look. I can't be the only one who grew up in a broken family, and surrounded by plenty other broken families. Kids, especially small kids, can't rationalise that family relationships don't always work out and sometimes divorce is the best option for everyone involved. Especially not in this society we live in, where divorce/separation are seen as a failure, and children are (at least passively) taught that divorce is their fault.

Stolas knows all this. He doesn't want Via to feel like she's growing up in a broken house, which is what separating from Stella would accomplish. We also don't know if Stolas would've kept custody of Octavia had he divorced Stella when Via was little. But it's very likely he didn't want to risk leaving Via alone with Stella, even just half the time. Especially not when Octavia has been having nightmares and crying over the mere thought of being abandoned by Stolas. Divorcing Stella would very likely result in Octavia feeling abandoned by him.

I don't know, man. I feel like I don't even have the right words to reply to this point. I still remember being 8 and sensing that something was very wrong with my parents and feeling like it was my responsibility to fix it, or else my world would end. Stolas tried his best to protect Octavia from feeling this way, from feeling responsible for anything that happened between her parents. He just wanted her to be happy. The only way he could do that was by playing 'happy family' in front of her so she could grow up carefree. He tried his best to give her enough love that she wouldn't feel the absence of her mother's love. I really don't know what else to say to this.

If you want media to spoon-feed you its themes and hold your hand as it shows you what each character is going through, then... I don't know, man. Stick to media that does that. There's media out there that genuinely does this really well. Heartstopper, for example. The Hunger Games, in a way. But maybe think twice before diving into adult media meant for mature audiences and criticising it for wanting you to be a mature viewer. Maybe it's just not for you.

Anyway. I'm gonna drink water now, please drink some water too if you're reading this (included, but not limited to, the asker). Hope you all have a nice day ❤️