#understand people's logic when it comes to that

[cruel-seduction]

If I get more pretty? 

Content Warnings: Mild cursing, angst, emotional vulnerability, themes of insecurity, and crying.

Summary: You and Mattheo have been keeping your relationship under wraps. But when doubts and insecurities begin to creep in, you find yourself questioning your worth. Mattheo, however, won’t let you suffer in silence. He’ll fight through any storm—no matter how many times he has to face it—because the one thing he won’t ever allow is for you to feel unloved. And when it comes to loving you, he’s unstoppable.

Glimpse - You smirked, your lips quivering as you raised an eyebrow. “Don’t speak too much, Riddle. Or I might just impregnate you.”

He withdrew his hands from you in mock horror, covering his body as if you’d just said the most scandalous thing in the world. “I knew it,” he said, feigning shock, “You only want me for my body.”

a/n - I am writing this while I am in metro and I forgot to bring my headphones and there is a really cute guy sitting next to me who also have dimples and he looks like a nerd cause he is doing some maths equation and he even smiled at me so I am fucking happy.

The sun hung low on the horizon, its amber rays stretching lazily across the Black Lake, casting a soft, golden glow over the rippling water. You were sprawled out beneath a towering oak tree, its ancient branches providing just enough shade to temper the warmth of the evening. Your back rested comfortably against the rough bark, while Pansy’s head lolled casually on your shoulder. To your left, Mattheo sat close, his presence grounding you in a way you didn’t quite understand but had come to crave.

You weren’t exactly close friends with the group gathered here. Pansy was an acquaintance at best—though her sharp wit and biting humor had grown on you—but Mattheo? He was your secret. Your boyfriend. A relationship that defied logic and societal expectations. On the surface, you and Mattheo were opposites: you, measured and reserved; him, chaos wrapped in dark allure. You had loathed his reputation once, the stories of his recklessness and destruction, but now you knew the truth—the tender boy beneath the mask, the one who would move mountains just to see you smile.

Still, it was your idea to keep things private. “Private until permanent,” you had insisted, brushing away his protests with a laugh. “People are too eager to cast their evil eye.” It wasn’t that you didn’t want the world to know. You did. But you couldn’t shake the instinct to protect what was precious to you, even if the irony of shielding someone as notorious as Mattheo Riddle from harm didn’t escape you.

Your voice broke through the tranquil atmosphere as you finished recounting a story, one that had the group doubled over in laughter. “It’s not that funny, you assholes,” you muttered, though a smile tugged at your lips. “I’m actually concerned about it, okay? Like, it’s true, but still…” You rolled your eyes, your chuckle mingling with the fading laughter. Eventually, you let your head rest atop Pansy’s, her dark curls tickling your cheek. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Mattheo watching, his dark gaze fixed on where Pansy leaned against you. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, and you couldn’t help but suppress a grin. Jealousy suited him.

As the laughter ebbed, Blaise leaned back on his elbows, a smirk playing on his lips as he turned to Mattheo. “So, Riddle,” he drawled, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “What’s the deal with that redhead who’s been mooning over you?”

Mattheo’s brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “What redhead?”

“Oh, don’t play coy,” Blaise replied with a laugh. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. The redhead—absolute knockout—who’s been fawning over you.”

“She doesn’t,” Mattheo said firmly, his tone laced with mild irritation. “She just assumes we’re friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Blaise quirked an eyebrow. “Let me enlighten you, Riddle. Do women usually parade around in barely-there clothing for their so-called friends?” His teasing earned him a sharp slap to the back of the head from Pansy.

“Any girl can wear whatever she damn well pleases,” she snapped. “And it doesn’t have to be for anyone, let alone a man. And If I hear you say such nonsense I will chop your dick and feed it to that three headed dog, you understand?”

Blaise rubbed the back of his head, chuckling. “Alright, alright. I am sorry, ma’am. But come on, Mattheo. She waits for you at Quidditch practice every morning. Five a.m., mate. No one studies that hard in the field when we’ve got a perfectly good library. She’s practically throwing herself at you.”

Theodore, lounging nearby, chimed in with a smirk. “I have to agree. She’s got a killer figure. Honestly, Riddle, she seems tailor-made for one of your infamous one-night flings. Speaking of which, you’ve been suspiciously… alone lately. Someone caught your eye?”

Before Mattheo could respond, Pansy interjected, her tone light but edged with sarcasm. “Please. Mattheo fawning over just one woman? Not possible. It’s probably against his DNA or something. The man’s practically programmed to bounce from one hot girl to another.” She leaned back, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “And some of those girls, I’ll admit, are downright smashable. Even I’m tempted sometimes.”

The group laughed, the conversation shifting seamlessly to lighter topics, but their words lingered, carving fissures in your confidence. Their teasing shouldn’t have bothered you—you knew Mattheo’s heart belonged to you—but doubts began to creep in, unbidden and persistent. Were you enough for him? Did he deserve someone better, someone more dazzling, more suited to his world?

The thoughts gnawed at you until you felt a warm hand slip over yours. Startled, you turned your head to find Mattheo watching you, his gaze impossibly tender. His lips curved into a small, genuine smile, one that spoke of unspoken promises and quiet devotion. You mustered a smile in return, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

And Mattheo noticed.

He always noticed.

Later that evening, you made your way back from the library, your bag slung lazily over your shoulder and your thoughts preoccupied. Mattheo had skipped your study date, and though disappointment gnawed at the edges of your mind, you reasoned it away. He was probably busy with Quidditch practice—the final match was looming, and the pressure was mounting. He’d make it up to you after the match, you told yourself, because that’s who he was. He always found a way to make things right.

Still, the morning’s conversation lingered, casting a faint shadow over your thoughts. You didn’t want to overthink it—it wasn’t worth ruining your mood—but the words from earlier replayed in your head like an unwelcome echo. To distract yourself, you silently recited the lyrics to a song, focusing on the rhythm of your footsteps as you made your way toward your dorm.

And then, just as you turned a corner, you saw them.

The sight froze you in place, a wave of nausea churning in your stomach as your heart plummeted. There he was—Mattheo—standing with a girl so breathtakingly beautiful it felt like the universe was mocking you. Her golden hair fell in perfect waves, her face framed with elegance, her height poised like a model stepping off a magazine cover. She was flawless. Perfect hair. Perfect face. Perfect everything. She was everything you weren’t.

Your chest tightened as you watched her lean toward him, her laughter like a siren’s call, and bile rose in your throat. You wanted to scream, to curse her, to tear her apart with the fire burning in your chest. But then the sharp edge of reality cut through. Was she really at fault? She didn’t know. To her, Mattheo was just another unattached, impossibly attractive boy. It wasn’t her fault she was flirting with someone who everyone believed was fair game.

Still, your gaze locked on her hand as it brushed his shoulder, and the lump in your throat grew harder to swallow. He moved his arm away, subtle but deliberate. Yet your mind refused to accept it. Why wasn’t he doing more? Why wasn’t he stopping her outright, shutting her down completely? Did he… like the attention? Or worse, did he realize he was better off with someone like her? Someone perfect?

The thought shattered something inside you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood there, frozen, watching the scene unfold. The voice in your head whispered cruel truths: He deserves someone better. Someone who fits his world. Someone who isn’t you.

You loved him so much it ached, but wasn’t love about sacrifice? About letting go? You told yourself it was. And so, that’s what you did.

For the next week, you committed to what you bitterly called your “stupid mission” of letting him go. You ignored Mattheo at every turn, cutting off the moments that had once been routine—canceling dates with feeble excuses, skipping his Quidditch practices where you used to show up just to watch him, even avoiding the places where you knew you might run into him. If he was better off without you, you wouldn’t stand in his way.

But boy, you were so wrong.

Which is how you ended up here, in the dim light of an abandoned classroom, your back pressed against the cold stone wall. His dark eyes burned with intensity, locking onto yours as he caged you in with both hands planted firmly on either side of your head. His body radiated heat, and the tension in the air was palpable.

“Mattheo,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, though it was futile against his unyielding strength. “Let me go.”

“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on,” he snapped, his voice low and rough. “You’ve been avoiding me all week. Canceling on me. Ignoring me. And don’t even try to lie, because I know you’ve been doing it on purpose.”

You glared at him, your hands curling into fists as you shoved at him again. “It doesn’t matter, Mattheo. Just—just let me go, fucker.”

“It matters to me,” he growled, his face inches from yours now. “You don’t get to just disappear from my life and act like it’s nothing. Tell me what’s going on.”

Tears pricked at the edges of your vision, but you blinked them away, refusing to let him see you break. “Why are you here?,” you choked out, the words slicing through you like broken glass. “You certainly were enjoying that blondie’s attention..”

Mattheo’s brows furrowed, confusion giving way to something deeper—something that almost looked like heartbreak. “Blondie who?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. “The girl from the last week. The one for whom you cancelled our study date for—”

But before you could finish, Mattheo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Stop.” His hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You seriously thought I would cheat on you?”

Your breath hitched, the fight draining from you as his words sank in “But—”

“You don’t even have this much trust in me?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper, the hurt and disbelief evident in every word.

You shook your head, tears streaming freely now. “No, Mattheo, it’s not about trust. It’s about reality. You deserve better. Someone like her—perfect body, perfect everything. And I don’t think we’re meant for each other. I’m not perfect, not even close. So, it’s not that I think you would cheat,” you choked on the words, your heart breaking with every breath, “but I think you’re better off with her.”

By now, your sobs had overtaken you, the rawness of your feelings too much to contain. You were crying—really crying, like you hadn’t in years. Mattheo’s expression shifted from confusion to something deeper, darker, as he moved towards you.

Before you could even react, his hand found the back of your neck, his touch cold against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, as he pressed your head to his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. His lips brushed over your hair, his voice low and insistent.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His words were like a punch to the gut. “Don’t pull this movie bullshit on me, babe. That I deserve someone better? Cause we both know that I don’t. Come on, I don’t. I have more than enough. I have you. The fucking real goddess.”

You felt his arms tighten around you, his words sinking into your soul. “I don’t believe in reincarnation or any of that shit,” he continued, his voice softer now, “but I do think I’ve done something right in this life, something good, because I get to be with you. And trust me, baby—you and I are the only endgame. At first, I thought this was just some fling, but now? A day without talking to you feels like a waste. And I want to say some romantic shit like I’ll be with you even if the whole world is against you, but fuck that. I’m not weak, baby. I’ll kill anyone who dares go against you. Do you understand?”

A strange, tearful smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him. His hand ran up and down your back, comforting, reassuring.

“I know now’s not the right time to say this, but you’re getting your snot all over the only clean dress I have, baby.”

You lightly slapped his shoulder in mock annoyance, but the tension in your chest began to ease. He made you laugh, even in the midst of everything. You pulled your face back to look at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. The kiss was slow and soft, unlike any other kiss you’d shared. It was filled with something tender, something fragile, as if he was holding you close, afraid that if he let go, you might vanish.

When you finally broke the kiss, his gaze was fixed on you—his eyes filled with an intensity that spoke volumes. You could see it, clear as day: he was yours, and you were his. You were the endgame.

“You think I’d waste my time with anyone else when I have you?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Baby, you’re the only person who can handle all of me—the good, the bad, and the downright shitty. You believe in me. You worry about me when I get sick. You scold me when I’m being an idiot. And most importantly, when I look in your eyes, all I see is love. Not fear. Not ‘Riddle’s son.’ Just me.”

You smirked, your lips quivering as you raised an eyebrow. “Don’t speak too much, Riddle. Or I might just impregnate you.”

He withdrew his hands from you in mock horror, covering his body as if you’d just said the most scandalous thing in the world. “I knew it,” he said, feigning shock, “You only want me for my body.”

And you laughed, the sound of it echoing in the empty room, light and carefree, a stark contrast to the heaviness that had settled earlier. But it didn’t matter.

Mattheo Riddle, for all his faults, his arrogance, his unpredictable nature—he was yours. And you loved him. Maybe love wasn’t about letting go, after all. Maybe it was about holding on, cherishing what you had while it was still yours. Because if you had to let go of your love, then maybe it wasn’t meant to be in the first place.

Main Masterlist || Divider - @bernardsbendystraws

[miange1]

donnie darko smut where he mutual masturbates with his best friend?

like he's just a lil curious 😛

DONNIE DARKO

male reader, gay stuff, anal fingering, watching eachother jerk off, reader is implied as a bottom(i mean he's fingering himself), donnie is nasty, mutual masturbation, a jerk circle with two people, being high, faggots, bdd(big dick donnie)

high off your asses is what you two were. eyes red and hooded while you stared off into space. donnie's room had just gotten rebuilt, and the two of you could finally go back to old ways.

getting high, sleeping, staring, donnie talking about things you could never even understand too much. and the two of you loved it, it was great.

but today was a bit different, the two of you laid on opposite sides of his bed. your head rested on his wall, and his head practically hung off the edge.

"..i think i'm hard.." donnie muttered, feeling a bit of a tug. you looked over at him, head wobbly as you did. "why..are you tellin' me that..?" the both of you gave a half hearted chuckle, a few coughs coming through as well.

his voice would get a little bit more serious as he spoke. "you caused it." if you could show surprise then you would, but you barely could.

"..you a homo donnie?" he shrugged, indicating a maybe. "n'd you're not?" he had a good point. the two of you have been flirting with each other since forever, whether it be verbal or physical there was always some sort of flirty tension between the two of you.

he sat up, startling you a slight bit as he had done it so abruptly. he started to untie the strings to his sweats, the clear outline of his hard on pushing against the fabric, giving you a feeling as well.

"oh, c'mon.. don't do that shit in fronta me.." you averted your eyes but peeked just a tad bit. "uh, uh, you caused it so you gotta watch." well that was his logic, pretty fucked up but that's how he was. yet you had control over the situation as well, and you had chosen to stay. because you wanted to watch. disgusting, you couldn't believe yourself.

your eyes watched donnies movements, watching take out his cock and watching him go up and down just a bit. "hey, you're lookin.." you shook your head, "no 'm not, you..faggot." what were the two of you doing? why in the world were you doing it? couldn't give an answer no matter what.

"what's yours so big for?" your lips made a small pout of annoyance, seeing as his whole thing was as big as his hand.

he ignored your question, and asked one of his own. "you hard too?" you looked down, going to answer no but— oh..there it was. "mh..yea.."

he giggled, scooching a little closer to you before he started. "wanna do it with me?" do it with him? what was this, a porno? you weren't gonna jerk off with him.

is what you would have said if you weren't already undoing your shorts and pulling them down. between your legs was sticky and wet, leaky substance sticking to your skin and running down your length making you shiver at the cold air brushing past.

your eyes were now on donnie's movements, and his were on yours. your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as donnie has started to let out a few groan mixed moans, his shaft brushing over his tip each time— making you somewhat copy his movements.

this was weird, so weird but so good. the both of your heavy breaths being shared, occasionally looking at each other in the eye.

"y'should finger yourself too." you had never done it before, did it feel good? you looked at your fingers, the middle and ring one. this was so..gay.

donnie's hand came to your wrist, pushing your fingers between your lips to get them nice and wet. "good..like that.." he was acting much more bold than usual, made you want to go all the way with him.

when they were ready, you hadn't even thought about putting only one in. far too stoned to care, you shoved both of them in and ended up hurting yourself. but the pain felt good, and especially donnie liked the noise of distress that you made.

"do that again.." his voice was raspy, he was so damn close.

you didn't know how to do it again on command, so you just plunged your fingers deeper, then back out, and kept that process going. this hurt like a bitch, you weren't sure how other guys did this and thought it felt good. your hole burned, and you probably weren't even doing it right but you were just getting off to the fact donnie was getting off the this.

"donnie, mngh.." you went on instinct and curled your fingers up. ah. there's where it felt good. your eyes rolled back, arched back and sheets crinkled and this time donnie's eyes stayed on you and he quickened his pace.

"keep..goin'— fuck.." he finished all over his fingers, as did you. he leaned his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily and it tickled your skin.

gave you an idea. you didn't want to stop here.

[elainsgirl]

if we ignore all the ways the text itself makes it clear elain’s book (with az) is next and just look at the marketing/publicity side, i still don’t see how people can deny that elriel is next:

- the coloring book including the TT scene

- the illustrated dust jackets with nessian and elriel for acofas

- the countless magazine articles saying they believe elriel is next (time, E! news, etc)

- the decision to make the azriel bonus chapter exclusive to BAM but the feysand one to B&N, which has a much larger audience of readers and then reprint the feysand one in the special editions

- interviews where sjm said she’s already started writing elain’s book and had “dreams of ivy choking her” (if we go with their assumption that elain is book 7 and gwynriel is book 6 except you don’t start writing book 7 before book 6 so why would she have been writing elain’s back in 2018ish?)

this is all just off the top of my head so there could be more. and that’s just without analyzing the text, which in itself practically screams elriel!!! i’ve talked with 2 of my friends who are casual readers and none of them even know that gwynriel existed as a possibility bc of how outlandish it was. and if that is how casual readers in 2025 are STILL reacting to gwynriel, there is absolutely no way she would spring a ship that doesn’t exists in canon on her readers! at least mor and emerie was hinted at in acosf so if they get a book together, it at least makes sense bc it was explained on the page in the actual books. i just don’t understand how people can deny both the text and marketing decisions at this point

The second Sjm stopped mentioning Elucien in her videos and became “hush” “hush” about Elains Li - it was ringing bells that elucien is no longer endgame. But you’re completely right, lets *solely* talk about the marketing aspect of this. Buckle in, this is long.

*Before we begin, Let’s make it clear by Acowar/Acofas - Sjm definitely knew what was happening in acotar 4 = acosf and Acotar 5, she herself said both those books lay crumbs and foreshadowing for the future.

The colouring book that did quite well & rated highly on goodreads. It contains all the significant moments @elrielsgarden recently did a post talking about it but lets focus on the elucien/elriel scenes we get.

There is no elucien scene within the coloring book. The closest is this, the scene where Elain is standing next to Lucien. Where his focus is on Nesta and Elains focus elsewhere.

Then Mass chooses to include a scene between elriel: When you look at this scene, what do you remember?

This passage:

as much as antis say this scene is insignificant and means nothing - Sjm, the author herself clearly found it to be important enough to be included within the coloring book.

So, Here Mass included the iconic truthteller scene yet if elucien is endgame - why did she not include a single significant scene between them? Why elriel? It could have been Lucien giving Elain his cloak in acomaf? It could have been a picture of them sitting together when they first talked. Anything YET eluciens get nothing, so what exactly is the point? What marketing technique is this? Why did she want to include an elriel scene but not Elucien.

Moving onto the dust jackets:

Like, come on. You cannot tell me this wasn’t done on purpose, Mass knew what she was doing - so again, if elucien was endgame, why isn’t he apart of this? Why isnt he next to Elain?

You close the book, Nessian land on each other. Elriel land om each other. If Nessian is endgame and this was for a romantic hint/purpose. well. Following that logic - the same reason applies for elriel, another hint at Elains final endgame.

Keeping all of this in mind so far - Let’s look at some interviews from Sjm:

Let’s combine all of these to get a general gist of the spinoffs:

3 spinoffs = 3 novels. It was in acowar where Sjm started writing a story and realised she wanted to explore new characters- There’s a few characters I say Acowar diverts too that are “new”: Vassa, Helion/LoA, Miryam. She also says she planned and researched for Elains book. But the two most important things to me are 1) She knew Nessian were next AND what she wanted for the second novel. The third novel she left the door open for, logically; If the next book is elucien, Mass would have already known who Az ended with therefore knew what the last book would be about, Gwynriel. Vice versa. If Gwynriel is next- she definitely would have known elucien would be acotar 6 YET only 2/3 spinoffs were planned. Then - you may ask who or what the last book could be about? Prequel. Especially with the way HOFAS went, Sjm seems ready to dive into the lore of and history of pre-acotar.

So if Gwynriel was endgame, Gwyn being so important to the plot as Gwynriels claim: She would have been introduced in acowar or even acofas. The books that set up the spinoffs, is she brought in within those books? No. Even by going off on what Sjm has confirmed about the spinoffs, it already logically disproves both elucien and gwynriel.

onto the articles:

E! and Time are good sources that are held highly and people believe. They have an honest reputation for being informed and real as far as news articles can go. Both these articles talk about which couple? Elriel. Here’s the thing: For Gwynriel to work, it has to be next as (Azriels bonus = his pov next) so shouldn’t these articles be talking about him? Yet its Az AND Elain. No Gwyn. They don’t even focus on elucien.

To have these major sources talk about elriel…when the next book is going to be gwynriel is just complicating and confusing for casual readers which are majority of the fandom. Mass nor BB would want that, would they? And this bothers antis as some even lied that these articles mentioned their ships as well (conveniently no proof was given to go w the claim)

Nail on the coffin is the fact Feysands bonus will be reprinted and included in the new editions, the bonus that talks and has a slight focus on Elain. If one was to *only* have read Feysands bonus, be honest. Would you have come to the conclusion that Gwynriel’s book is next?

No and that itself puts an end to Gwynriel. The ship has slowly been sinking this year and this was the final proof- it was never happening. And if you don’t have Gwynriel -> no way for Elucien to happen.

And you’re right, aside from casual readers not clicking onto Gwynriel being next - for ACOTAR specifically, Mass has set up each couple before their book in the same way. They each have had some foundation, attraction, romance, actual tangible connections to the plot BEFORE their books. A gwynriel book will be a messy, retconneed book which is a lot of effort to create AND make sense with the previous series and I just don’t see Mass doing that. If Gwynriel was to happen, there would have been no need for elriel. These books focus on ONE couple. Elucien had angst without elriel. Gwynriel could have been set up to have angst without elriel, so why even create elriel in the first place? As a “red herring” ? But then why would any author go through so much trouble in positivity developing elriel and their plot for 3 consecutive books if they weren’t happening?

When you try to follow Gwynriel/Elucien logic there is a lot of confusion.

I feel like I got off track somewhere - my bad. Point is - by marketing alone and adding all that has happened in regards to the ships it had always pointed towards elriel. Elains book, Az as her Li. At MOST - there’s a speculation on a love triangle between Az, Elain and Lucien - even then who is the focus? Elain. Not Gwynriel.

I think 2024 was the year of elriels’ soft launch. BB and Mass prepping the fandom for an announcement and 2025 will be elriels year. Where everything will come together in a nice neat little bow. 🎀

[nobodyfamousposts]

I remember reading a post by @critical-thinking-is-mandatory a while back about how Lila would realistically be disliked by people because of how self centered she is even if they don't think she's lying.

With this logic, Adrien's public friendship with Chloe (a school wide bully) should have a lot of people side eyeing him, if not outright avoiding him all together.

What do you think?

That's a valid point, and one that I and I think a number of others have considered.

Origins played with it but not nearly enough. By all counts, when a bully comes in with their "celebrity best friend" and parade him around the way Chloe does, there would be a mix of people being put off by him being her friend as much as there would be people impressed by Chloe being his friend.

Honestly, it would have been a more interesting setup and added extra layers to the love square dynamics if they started off going from enemies to friends to lovers. Or at least slow down and not dive headfirst right into over the top crushing.

But in that case, it would likely work better as a reverse love square. Ladybug loves Chat who is Adrien who loves Marinette who is Ladybug. Have Marinette be someon who gives Adrien a chance which builds a friendship and starts up his crushing on her.

Otherwise it would just lead us back into cringe with Marinette crushing on Adrien despite having valid reason to not trust him for being Chloe's friend or potential boyfriend.

I'm fairly certain I pointed this out in another essay/critique/salt post that they completely missed out on a potential character arc for Adrien in having him actually ADJUSTING to public school. Having him struggling to make friends with his stigma both as a celebrity and as "Chloe's friend". The effects would be two-fold.

First, it would help the Adrien salters better sympathize with him. Yes, I know there's his horrible HORRIBLE father, but storywise, the "Gabriel sucks" angle doesn't really matter if Adrien isn't having to be the one to face that. In addition, he seems to have no trouble with acclimating to a public school and making friends. Heck, he's not making friends, people are jumping over themselves to make friends with HIM. Part of what makes people sympathize with characters is seeing them try and fail and just generally make an EFFORT for what they want. Turn that around. In the hands of competent writers, this would be a setup that would do that more for Adrien. We see that in some aspects with the manga where it has Nathaniel mistake Adrien as a snob who looks down on comics and him as an artist. It would have been great to see more like that with Adrien getting to know his classmates or being the focus through which we get to learn about the classmates since he is supposed to be the new boy.

Second, it would be a stepping stone/building block to the eventual confrontation with Gabriel—which yes, should happen. Building relationships and forming HEALTHY bonds really helps to understand when other ones you have are not. (COUGHCOUGHScarletLadyCOUGHCOUGH) They can help you gain strength and courage and build a new identity for yourself. They also give you support in dealing with major conflicts. They can help him form attachments that make him NOT so willing to jump in to join his father's craziness. And they can help him become a better hero in his own right.

I'm not saying make Adrien suffer and be friendless. Far from it!

I'm saying to USE this as a plot point to develop Adrien and give him focus and room to grow. Or at least a point that ISN'T just him being half of the endgame pairing and desired by everyone in the city.

Show Adrien try to interact with each of the classmates. Show how Adrien becomes friends with others. Show how he comes to care about people who aren't there just to give him what he wants or tie him to the plot.

And yes, this would inevitably also lead in to some changes for Chloe as well...for good or bad.

[hearthomelesbian]

first murim is so key to my understanding of yoo joonghyuk. because the thing is that she spent a really long time in the second round just hanging around breaking the sky sword saint. doing whatever she asked, even when it ended up with her being beaten or shaved bald or it was a useless task altogether or all of the above. and in the 'dumplings made by others' side story, they say that yjh didn't even need to stick around to learn breaking the sky swordsmanship! that she learnt it basically immediately!! so all of that being towards the purpose of learning breaking the sky swordsmanship is just a more practical excuse for the emotional root of it all (yjh loves logical guises. for example: "i'm going to the demon realm because i don't like people impersonating me and there are good hidden items, and NOT to save kim dokja or anything").

but the truth is that btsss gave yoo joonghyuk a birthday. her signature sword form. the startings of transcendence. a sense of belonging somewhere, of home, which is something she so desperately searches for and wants throughout all of orv. yoo joonghyuk isn't shown to be particularly sentimental, but when she comes back to the first murim, even kim dokja can tell she's nostalgic. both of the swords she uses for the majority of main story (breaking the sky sword and black heavenly demon sword) are murim swords. her favourite food is from the first murim.

the reason yoo joonghyuk doesn't want to go back to the first murim is because losing all of that in the second turn is something incredibly tender and raw for her and she doesn't want to think about it!! she doesn't want to face btsss after she watched her die! after she failed to save her!! ("have you protected all that you wanted to protect?") she doesn't want to face a btsss that doesn't remember her!!

(as an aside: i think it is incredibly telling that the only food we see yjh eat that is made by another person is those dumplings. its no surprise that in a story so focused on connecting with others, food is symbolic when it comes to connection - multiple times lines are drawn between the two, but what comes to mind in particular for me is kim dokja, lonely and hungry in his tiny apartment, eating while reading twsa; and yoo joonghyuk, alone in space and missing her companions, eating while reading orv. yoo joonghyuk's refusal to eat food made by others is, in part, symbolic of her refusal to truly connect to others due to the pain of that connection. but she will still eat murim dumplings!)

it is compelling to me that while yoo joonghyuk seems determined to put any past connections behind her, she isnt entirely capable of it once those past connections are in eyeshot. she tells kim dokja just to kill lee seolhwa, and then when they're shopping together yoo joonghyuk stands in front of her in a crowd to stop her from getting knocked around, and takes medicine without complaint once she's told it's at lee seolhwa's request. she keeps yoo mia at arms length but then feeds her like a baby bird and gives her affection. she tries, multiple times, to avoid seeing breaking the sky sword saint, and then shares memories and vulnerabilities with her anyway. she is one of the only people (if not the only person) that yoo joonghyuk shares her memories of the previous turn with. she is one of the only people yjh is emotionally vulnerable with. she is the only person yoo joonghyuk uses honorifics for (excluding the odd affectionate "mia-yah"). she takes care of yoo joonghyuk. she's her master! i am losing the plot but you understand

[awinterrosesstuff]

Gaara and Naruto bonded because of their struggles as a jinchuriki, their loneliness and similar childhood. Gaara is a mirror to Naruto and vice versa. During the chunin arc, and especially during Naruto and Gaara's fight, Kishimoto draws the parallel on purpose. It's hard to deny his intention. But at the same time, he wants you to know there's a difference between them : Iruka and team 7.

They basically saved him from loneliness and the same fate as Gaara. Without them, Naruto would still have been hateful and angry. They're his first bonds. He remembers different moments with every one of them. And that's the difference with Gaara at this point of this story, Gaara still didn't find someone who shows him another path and makes him feel less lonely. That's role goes to Naruto actually.

And Kishimoto used that parallel again several times when team Kakashi rescues Gaara with Chiyo. Naruto explains why he feels strongly for Gaara and again, he acknowledges Iruka and team 7 as the ones who saved him from loneliness :

Those panels are really telling about their importance in Naruto's life. And there are some fans who will still try to force others characters as his first bonds. And it's so funny, because Kishimoto isn't even subtle.

During the fight with Gaara, Naruto remembers about both Kakashi's and Haku's words about protecting your comrades and precious people. He understands his strength comes from his friends, loving them (something that will stay with him until the very end) and protecting them. And there's he's fighting to protect Sasuke AND Sakura and also remembers Iruka's sacrifice for him.

And that's not the only one actually. The whole fight shows how much he cares about them, how much he's grateful for them, how much he feels happy thanks to them... there's one example.

(Are you not sad by reading "it's okay for me to be alive... to exist." ? Because I am.)

I'm so tired of people trying to twist the manga and claiming that the one who saved him from loneliness is someone else. The manga stated it quite clearly ... from Naruto's POV but also the narrative. Naruto is very aware of his own feelings and what happened to his life. Iruka was canonically the first adult to look after Naruto, shows him kindness and care. The whole debate over who is Naruto's best friend despite it has been very clear since the very beginning is particularly ridiculous. I know many people dislike Naruto's bonds with Sasuke and Sakura (especially Sakura), but what matters at the end of the day is Naruto's opinions and feelings on this front.

Iruka and team 7 are Naruto's first bonds. And by dismissing their bonds, you're kinda dismissing Naruto's character all the same. I mean, it's his POV.

Also, I think the only one who becomes important to Naruto on the same level of Iruka and team 7 is pretty much Jiraiya. Kishimoto once again shows it by different panels and makes Naruto thinking about what Sasuke felt after the Pain arc :

Jiraiya is Naruto's father figure (he's his family). It's quite logical. Naruto spent three years of his life with Jiraiya. And it's very unique to their bond. Plus, it's Jiraiya's death who made Naruto understands Sasuke a bit more. Why ? Because of a loss of a family figure yes, but also because Naruto wanted to avenge his master. Narratively, Jiraiya is very important. His death - weird to say it like that - kinda brings him closer to Sasuke. The one Naruto always wanted to be close to since childhood.

I'm not denying Naruto cares about other people like Shikamaru or Hinata or Kiba or Sai. But the most important people to him in the manga are Iruka, (OG ?) team 7 and obviously Jiraiya. And remember the claim that Naruto can't tell the difference between liking ramen and liking a person ? If anything all those panels prove that claim wrong.

[bwat5-blog]

A Clear Logical Look At The Grey: Warcrime or not?

**Spoilers For Arcane**

Alright. By now, I and many others have gone over "The Grey" in one way or another many times over. The discussion regarding Caitlyn's arc and story in season 2 has sparked just about every reaction imaginable, and the show has been over long enough that it seems the lines in the sand are drawn, and people are pretty much settled where they landed.

So, why am I getting into this again? Because I keep seeing the same term over and over from the anti-Caitlyn folks. "War Crime". And to be honest, I realized while I like every other adult in the world had heard the term in the news, movies, tv shows and more throughout my life, I really don't have a strong understanding to say one way or another if this was what people say it was. This will ONLY be related to her use of The Grey, as that is what I keep seeing pop up regarding this discussion.

To that end, what I'm doing here is attempting a clear, logical, easy to follow analysis of this question using real world sources and laws. A few things of note for clarity and fairness:

I am not educated or working professionally in any field related to this topic. I am a layman trying to present the argument and analysis in a clear and unbias way based the research I am able to do.

I am a huge fan of Caitlyn's story and have advocated logically only for the use of "The Grey" many times. For some of you that will invalidate anything else I say. That's fine. For the rest of you I just don't want you feeling that I was trying to get one over on you. This discussion is not going to deal with the story of the show, Caitlyn's growing aggression or any of that. I am simply hoping to address this particular issue.

Obviously, this is a discussion of a fiction substance in a fictional world. So while I am going to try and keep this as grounded as possible there may have to be a mental leaps required.

The use of chemical weapons in warfare and "war crimes" is an extremely serious topic with a history of death and horror. Any lack of sensitivity or respect on my part is not intentional I assure you.

WHAT WE KNOW:

Origin:

It is factory smog trapped underground. Caitlyn learns that her forebears created the ventilation system used to remove it from the Undercity. It is clearly harmful over extended exposure. Caitlyn sees medical sketches of people who have grown up under continuous exposure.

-"The people of the underground deserve to breathe"

First Time We See It Used:

Season 1 Episode 7: The Boy Savior-

Silco meets with the chem-barons and seems to use The Grey to put them in their place, although it is worth noting it seems different. We don't see that particular green haze when he releases it. Although I admit it is possible this was simply an artistic choice later. it is possible this is entirely different. But it gets mentioned quite a bit, so I think it is worth including.

The Strike Team:

This is part of Caitlyn's story where this comes into play. After the attack on the memorial a full force of Enforcers armed with Hex-Tech entering Zaun is imminent. Vi comes to Caitlyn assuring her that is not the way, as they will be on the Zaunite's terms and she must find an alternative. Caitlyn forms her team and goes to the council announcing her intent to enter Zaun. The Strike Team has 3 goals:

Dismantle Shimmer

Apprehend Jinx

Neutralize agents still loyal to Silco

Something to note for understanding:

Zaun is not independent. It is its own city yes, but it falls under the jurisdiction of the Council. Hence the need for the vote at the end of season 1. For further evidence, in the beginning of season one we see multiple instances of Enforcers moving freely in the Undercity with no issue.

What They Do-

With all that in mind, we see them actually engage in their mission. Using the very ventilation system the Caitlyn's family built they engage in a series of tactical strikes carrying out their objectives, using the grey to clear the streets of civilians and incapacitate enemy combatants in controlled and specific areas. Things of note to consider here:

Amanda Overton recently confirmed use The Grey was "strategic to a pinpoint". But did ask "still does that make it forgivable?"

2. Vi tells Jinx in 2x03: " We used the Grey to clear the streets. To keep people safe"

Now, there of course can be an argument made that Vi was simply trying to justify it to herself given the conflict she was obviously dealing with acting as an Enforcer. But I'm really trying to stick to what we know here and not interpret intention. So let's go over a few points:

They are after Jinx. And good or bad, love her or hate her, she likes to blow things up. Using that information anything that would clear innocents from the area before the Strike Team engages would be a logical decision.

I have seen this image making the rounds being used as proof that they targeted civilians-

This comes from the early portion of the Hellfire cinematic. This is not showing something they did in the current story. The dress of the people and the appearance of Zaun in the image tell us this. Additionally, the image is of the same color scheme and style as the older images Caitlyn sees while using the Kiramman key.

Known Exposures And Confirmed Symptoms:

Exposures-

Silco's Table:

Silco: Died by gunshot

Finn- Died by sword wound

Renni- Died when throat cut

Smeech- Died in fight with Sevika

Chross- Arrested? Hard to tell

Margot- Arrested? Hard to tell

Strike Team:

Jinx- Alive (we all know it)

Vi- Alive

Heenot- Alive (we assume, Caitlyn had him arrested)

Loris- Died from multiple arrow wounds

Maddie- Died of gunshot

Caitlyn- Alive

Steb- Alive

Unknowable amount of people in Zaun who were cleared from streets

Jinx's Attack On Piltover:

Unnamed little boy- Presumably alive

Unknowable amount of people in Piltover

*Presumably each of the surviving Barons. Various guards. Native Zaunites like Vi and Jinx have been exposed to it before certainly. These were just the ones I was confidant enough to document here*

Symptoms-

Painful irritation of eyes: Seen in essentially every exposure

Nasal irritation: Many characters sneeze but Heenot especially

Coughing: Essentially every exposure

Breathing Trouble: Seems to make it harder for some targets to breathe than others. (Assuming it was the same, Finn had extremely violent reaction to exposure compared to say Silco himself, who was standing there completely unmasked)

** It should be noted that we see multiple chem-baron foot soldiers laying on the ground when Smeech and his people arrive, in 2x02, however we get shots each of them confirming they are awake and breathing**

Possible Long Term Effects: Many people have expressed concerns over the potential of long term impact to the health of any and all who were exposed. In truth we just can't know. Obviously there are side effects to the people who have spent their lives breathing the Grey. But it is logical to suggest that short single exposure would not carry the same risk.

The Accusation:

Okay. The accusation of being made is that by using The Grey Caitlyn Kiramman committed what would be a war crime in the real world. In our world, this sort of thing is defined and laid out by something called "The Chemical Weapons Convention".

Classifying "The Grey"-

For our purposes, the comparison here is "Chemical Weapons" versus "Riot Control Agents".

Chemical Weapon- "A Chemical Weapon is a chemical used to cause intentional death or harm through its toxic properties. Munitions, devices and other equipment specifically designed to weaponize toxic chemicals also fall under the definition of chemical weapons"

Riot Control Agent- "Riot control agents are intended to temporarily incapacitate a person by causing irritation to the eyes, mouth, throat, lungs, and skin. Riot control agents, such as tear gas, are considered chemical weapons if used as a method of warfare. States can legitimately possess riot control agents and use them for domestic law enforcement purposes".

Effects: Tears, coughing, and irritation to eyes, nose, mouth and skin; constricts airway

_______________________________________________________

Now there are other types of Chemical Weapons of course. I list these only so you have all the various categories to investigate for yourself so you can see I'm not hiding something that matches The Grey.

Choking agents- Effects include fatal fluid buildup in lungs

Blister agents- Burning and blistering skin/eyes/windpipe/lungs

Blood agents- Cell's ability to use O2 impaired, leading to damage to all vital organs

Nerve agents- "Overstimulation of parasympathetic system effecting the peripheral and central nervous system, including: lacrimation, salivation, sweating, blurred vision, headache, difficulty in breathing and vomiting. In higher doses, nerve agents cause seizures, loss of body control, muscle paralysis (including heart and diaphragm) and unconsciousness"

Returning to RCA'S (Riot Control Agents)- As you can see above, states are permitted to possess and utilize RCA's for domestic law-enforcement purposes. But they are prohibited and classified as Chemical weapons when used in warfare. Which brings us to our next questions.

Summary: "The Grey" is essentially a symptom-for-symptom match for their example of an RCA.

Domestic Law Enforcement Or Warfare-

For a reminder:

Caitlyn is acting as essentially part of the council (since the seat is hers even though she never really takes it) but also under the auspices of the Council Of Piltover. Both Piltover itself and Zaun fall under their authority. Meaning they are quelling a domestic threat to public safety.

The show makes a point of Vi needing to be an Enforcer to assist them in an official capacity. The team Caitlyn leads is a team of Enforcers.

We see various instances in the show to reinforce this idea anyway, but in LOL lore, the enforcers are actually known as the "Piltover Wardens". The LOL official wiki describes them as: "The Law Enforcement organization in Piltover". But, for a more relevant Arcane example, the entire hunt for the kids after the explosion in season 1 act 1. Grayson and Marcus are tasked by the council with solving the crime.

They do not use the Grey to kill or harm. It is very specifically said by Vi to be used to reduce harm as much as possible and has no evidence of being fatal. It is being used to reduce violence and control the situation.

Summary: Caitlyn leads a team of members of the law enforcement agency that answers to the Council, into a city they have equal jurisdiction over, to quell a threat to public safety. While doing so they use The Grey with no intent to harm, but to control the situation and reduce violence.

Was Caitlyn's Use Of The Grey Proportionate and Targeted?-

So essentially what we need to consider is was Caitlyn's use of the grey while conducting the strike team's mission fair and disciplined. They knock over a stop sign you don't get to blow up the town square for example.

LSD Law defines Proportionality as the following: " A principle in international law that states the use of force should be proportional to the threat or grievance that provoked that use of force"

The Threat/Grievance (I realize there is nuance/detail to all of this just listing the hard details from Piltover's POV:

Jinx kills six enforcers and burns down a building so she can steal hex-tech gemstone

Caitlyn first hand has been almost killed by Jinx repeatedly

Jinx kills the sheriff of Piltover (corrupt coward but still happened) and several Enforcers in a massive explosion

Jinx easily abducts the daughter of a councilwoman from her own home

Jinx assassinates three councilors of Piltover, seriously wounding 2 others and several other people, and destroys the council chamber

Piltover is attacked by a large force of Zaunite warriors, including Shimmer hulks during a memorial that was supposed to be secure. Several fatalities. Confirmed attempt to assassinate at least one other surviving Councilor. They would have every reason to assume Jinx was involved given her recent activities.

The Strike Team's Response:

Five person team of Enforcers working in city they have full authority to be in.

Targeting Jinx, Shimmer, and Chem Barons.

Moved primarily through Ventilation system (they were not marching through the street in the open getting into firefights like storm troopers, for example)

Use of The Grey to clear the streets in areas there was going to be conflict and reduce/control violence. Which based on the parameters we have discussed I feel comfortable classifying an "RCA".

Grey was used only in extremely specific tactical locations as confirmed earlier in this doc by Amanda Overton.

Summary: A small, controlled, goal oriented team of people acting with full legal authority specifically targeting threats to public safety, moving as much as possible in way that does not endanger the public, and using RCA in pin-point tactical fashion for purposes of reducing violence as much as possible.

Conclusion:

Ultimately, I'm just another fan, and this is a very complex topic with way more to it than I'm probably qualified to speak on. I can say based on my reading and learning I do not believe it to be accurate or reasonable to call Caitlyn a war criminal for the use of The Grey. I recognize there plenty who will read this and disagree. And that's okay! Sadly though there are also those who won't bother to read it, and stick to their guns without being willing to broaden their understanding.

Like I said in the beginning I really just wanted to focus on the question at hand so I didn't get into the story motivations or anything. That being said, I hope this broadens your understanding and appreciation of the character and her story as it did for me. To all those who take time out of your day to read my rambling, I love and appreciate you all. See ya next time!

***I didn't want to put this in the beginning because I was trying to leave anything with any attitude out of it. Yes RCA's are permitted in domestic law-enforcement situations and not in warfare. This can lead to statements like " Your defending her for using something we can't even use in war"..... You know what is allowed? bullets'. Bullets are allowed***

[lily-blue]

Relationship status: taken

☆ characters: uni student!mark & you ☆ genre: soulmate au, college au ☆ warnings: alcohol consumption, insecurities ☆ summary: you live in a world where your soulmate marks tell you fair and square whether your special someone is taken or single; clearly, it shouldn’t be too complicated to figure out who is meant to be for you… ☆ words: 18,4k ☆ also: this day marks the end of the eleventh year of our friendship (and the end of the first whole year since we’ve been living in different countries), crazy, isn’t it? but when you really look at it, i think it’s crazier that among billions of people, i could find someone as amazing and perfect for me as you are. the older i get, the more grateful i am for you and your unconditional love and support ♥ please, stay by my side for many more decades, @dat-town, because there’s just no way i’d ever consider letting you go ♥

Privacy was a unique subject in your world, and something you had always had a hard time to comprehend with your soulmate’s relationship status tattooed on your skin.

When you had been sixteen and stupidly in love with your best friend’s older brother, you had been terrified by the thought that he might have seen you only as a little sister - you had also been super anxious to have your feelings returned and get in a relationship with him just for his mark to remain the same: single. Not to mention the very likely possibility of you having an older soulmate somewhere out there whose heart you would have unintentionally broken the moment you had become someone else’s girlfriend.

At that young age, the concept of love had made you feel so petrified that you had pretty much given up on ever confessing to someone even before you had received your own mark on your eighteenth birthday.

It had come with time, with the influence of many different people and mindsets and your own emotional growth through yearning and heartbreak, but eventually, you could acknowledge that there was less harm in your marks than you had initially thought as a teenager. After all, no one had to be in love with the person they got in a relationship with for the magical tattoos to change. What you needed was a vocal confirmation of your desire to live as a couple, thus breaking off a relationship that wasn’t meant to be could save you from spending precious years on someone who was only killing time with you before settling down with the one their heart was beating for.

Logically speaking, your soulmate marks - when one was mature enough to understand that there was a significant difference between a good match and a perfect match in life - were only there to save people their time and tears. You just had to be brave and open enough to give people a chance to test your compatibility according to a higher power. 

Ironically, your closest friend at university had a completely different take on this matter. She openly hated the way no one seemed to cherish other people’s feelings, belittling their love just because they weren’t the one for them. Yuju romanticised the process of falling in love and those pure feelings that naturally grew stronger the more time one spent with those who made them feel genuinely happy and grateful to be alive. Your differences didn’t come in the way of your friendship, though. In fact, the two of you had become friends when you had seen her scream at someone for breaking up with her childhood friend not a second after their tattoos hadn’t changed once the boy had asked the girl to be his girlfriend.

You admired her for her lack of fear of confrontation. You could have never drawn so much attention to yourself at a crowded coffee shop.

You could barely bear the immense amount of attention your boyfriend was giving you on a daily basis. Hence, you were actually glad that Dejun never complained when you dragged your friend to your public dates, so you wouldn’t have had to be the only one who was asked about her mundane days and was showered in free drinks, snacks and desserts.

(It was also a nice addition that with Yuju present, it was less likely that your boyfriend went overboard with his spending despite being a gentleman who would have rather bought three movie tickets with his own money than let you and your best friend chip in.)

‘Man, you look so disappointed! Haechan will never let me live this down,’ someone’s whiny voice came from your side, effectively pulling you back to the present: to the biggest lecture hall in your university where your Creative writing professor and the Lyrics writing professor from the Music Department had assigned you a partner for your semester project.

With furrowed eyebrows, you straightened your back and looked at the boy who was talking to you.

‘Sorry?’

You couldn’t remember much of what he had said. You had been still thinking about your pizza date with Dejun after your class - for which Yuju couldn’t come with you because of her internship - when his voice had reached you and pulled you out of your head.

The boy lifted his hand and pointed at something on your right. Reluctantly, you turned your head, unsure whether you should have focused on the brunette who was staring at you two like she was about to slice your throat or the goofy guy who had his phone directed at you. The latter could have been as easily taking a selfie with the grumpy guy next to him - Renjun, if you had remembered correctly - as recording your weird conversation with the one who had addressed you.

You turned back to your assumed project partner.

‘What’s happening?’ You asked, hoping that your question didn’t come off as offensive as it sounded in your head. The lecture hall might have already been half-empty, but there were still a lot of students around you, and if this person scolded you for being a scatterbrain, the humiliation would have haunted you for weeks.

‘Don’t mind him, I’ll make him delete the video,’ the boy reassured you, so you finally knew for sure whom he had pointed at a few seconds ago. Still, the revelation left you with more questions than answers. Suddenly, you weren’t sure even of your most logical explanations. Was he really your project partner? Had he already introduced himself? Should you have introduced yourself?

Why was his friend recording your conversation? Was he even close enough for his phone to pick up on what you were saying?

‘… and it’s his new hobby to make fun of me since Haeri asked me out because apparently, I’m awkward with girls, and it’s ridiculous that my soulmate found me while he’s still single…’

You scratched your nape and turned your head back towards the boy’s friend. His phone was still in his hands, and his smile got visibly wider with each passing second as the guy in front of your seat kept rambling, super clearly digging his own grave for no real reason. You didn’t understand why he felt the need to explain their odd dynamic to you, why he was going into so much detail when you were strangers.

Speaking of which…

‘Are you a music major? We’re assigned to do the semester project together, aren’t we?’ You cut him off as gently as you could manage, deliberately disregarding the obnoxious laughter that came from your side almost immediately.

‘Yes, yes we are! That’s why I was asking for your name and whether you wanted to change kkt IDs, but you looked so disappointed, and Haechan thought it was funny how much you hated this pairing already, and…’

Oh. So this was what had happened. He had walked up to you while you had been in your head and mistaken your growing anxiety due to your outdoor date with Dejun for your nonexistent displeasure towards him as a project partner. It was so silly, but it did put the past couple of minutes into context.

You couldn’t help but smile.

‘I’m not disappointed. It’s… it’s just a misunderstanding. I was thinking about something…’ you tried to clear up the mess, mortified as you realised that you had almost told this boy that the real reason for the frown on your face was your boyfriend’s love language rather than your first impression of him. You weren’t usually this chatty, and you scolded yourself even more mentally when you remembered that his friend was recording your conversation. ‘Else. I was thinking about something else.’

‘Really?’ The boy’s surprise was palpable, his distressed facial features slowly morphing into something less tense as he reciprocated your small smile. ‘That’s cool. That’s more than cool, actually. Awesome.’

You weren’t so sure that it was really that awesome, but you decided to just let him be, then introduced yourself properly and you fished your phone out of your hoodie’s pocket, so he could add himself to your friend list on Kakao.

‘So… Mark,’ you stared up at him once he gave your phone back, and you checked his name in your app. His profile picture was unexpectedly cool: he was sitting in a dimly lit studio with neon lights in the background, holding onto what looked like an electric guitar. He was wearing a beanie indoors and you had this uncharacteristic urge to tease him for it despite not knowing him at all. ‘When would you like to brainstorm about our topic? Do you have any part-time jobs or other extra obligations after your classes? Anything we should calculate with?’

‘I do have one actually! I’m working at the vinyl store near campus on the weekends, but most of my classes are morning or early afternoon classes, except for my lyrics writing seminar, which is… right now. So yeah, weekday afternoons are cool with me,’ he explained without taking a look at his timetable, but you guessed it was okay enough since you were already a month into your first semester, which meant most people had memorised their schedules. 

If you still mixed up your Wednesdays and Thursdays, that was no one else’s business but yours. (And maybe Yuju’s, too, since she was the one who always had to remind you to bring breakfast for your first class on Thursdays, otherwise you would need to sit through two long seminars, one after another, with an empty stomach.)

‘That sounds manageable. I also have two free afternoons a week. How often do you think we should meet up? I guess, we both have other classes, too, but this project is fifty percent of our grade, so maybe…’

‘Twice a week works for me. I actually really like this class, you know. So call me nerdy, but I want to give this project my hundred and ten percent this semester,’ Mark confessed, his cheeks taking on a soft, rose-tinted hue, which you found quite endearing.

You were also glad that in spite of his clear discomfort - someone really should have told his friend to stop teasing him with his stupid phone -, the boy took the initiative, so you didn’t have to admit aloud that your grades were actually very important to you. Sure, you wouldn’t have gone as far as to say you were embarrassed that you cared about your education, and you would have mustered up your courage to ask him to take your project more seriously if he had been one of the slackers, but it was definitely easier on your heart this way.

‘You can absolutely call me nerdy then. I’m a self-diagnosed perfectionist,’ you decided to add with a semi-self-conscious giggle just when the silence could have stretched too long, Mark’s eyes lighting up at your confession.

You could see it on his face that he was about to ask you something - your best guess was that just like you, he didn’t have any more classes that afternoon, so he was wondering whether you would have liked to get a headstart on your project together -, but then he quickly pressed his lips together, into a tight smile, when his friend threw his arm over his shoulder.

‘Makgeolli, let’s go,’ the guy with the silver-lavender hair exclaimed, pulling his friend close to his side like he hadn’t been bullying him in the past five minutes or so. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the name he chose to call Mark on had annoyed the other, too. After all, it was hard to picture anyone who would have liked to be addressed as “rice wine” when there were so many other options… 

‘Man, get off me,’ the boy tried to push his friend’s arm off him, but the other was too clingy and insisting, while Mark clearly had enough experience with this kind of behaviour to know that any future attempts would have been futile.

They had such a weird dynamic, it was borderline concerning.

(Now it made more sense why the boy had felt the need to explain his friend’s actions to you despite your short acquaintanceship. Without your project partner’s vocal confirmation, you would have assumed that he was in real danger around the other boy.)

‘Canada, I’m starving,’ the hyperactive boy whined before he pointed at you with his head like you had already been at that level, when you didn’t even know his name. Wasn’t he a bit too mannerless for his own good? Maybe, it wasn’t that his soulmate wasn’t around, it was just she didn’t want to be found. ‘I’ve seen you already exchanged numbers, so we’re good to go,’ he reasoned, his argument reminding you that you couldn’t have worked on your project that afternoon even if you had wanted to. Therefore, Mark and you didn’t have more business together for the time being.

‘Yeah, but…’

‘It’s okay. I actually have… somewhere to be today, so I’ll text you about my schedule later?’ You half-said, half-asked, a little unsure because of all the attention his friend was giving you with his mischievous eyes. Were you hallucinating things, or were his eyes looking for the soulmate mark on your wrist?

You pulled the sleeve of your hoodie lower on instinct, before you stood up abruptly and threw your notebook and glitter gel pens into your backpack.

‘Yeah, sure. I’ll be waiting!’ You swallowed back a giggle when you saw his friend elbow him in the side right after his eager exclamation had left his mouth. His red cheeks and wide eyes were kind of cute. ‘Khm… I mean, not literally. You don’t have to feel pressured, I have other things to do, too. You can text me any time,’ Mark tried to save the situation by making it four times worse.

You willed yourself to take him seriously, though. It felt like the right thing to do.

‘Thanks. But I’ll message you once I’m back at the dorm. Self-diagnosed perfectionist, you know,’ you smiled at him, and tilted your head forwards just enough to be considered as a somewhat polite goodbye when your gaze shifted from him to his friend. You would have felt bad for judging him silently if you hadn’t shown him any manners, either, but this was where you drew the line with people who didn’t pass your vibe check: at the bare minimum. ‘See you.’

Nearing the exit, you could hear both boys reciting the same two words to you in surprising harmony, but you were already too far away from them to tell what his obnoxious friend had said to Mark to make him scream his name from the top of his lungs. Haechan. Hm, it didn’t ring any bells.

Two weeks into your Creative writing project, you could confidently say that your professor tried his best to make his class the most unique and enjoyable that semester. Having shorter lectures in order to provide additional quality time for brainstorming for the students was a praised idea as well, something both Mark and you appreciated despite your frequent text messages and meet-ups. After all, you hadn’t known each other before this semester and to be able to create something as personal as your topic required… You both had to become more comfortable around the other. Otherwise, you would never be able to connect on an intimate - strictly platonic, yet undeniably deep - level. That was just how art worked.

Afraid of possible rumours on campus, the inevitable misunderstandings based on them and how the unnecessary drama would have affected you - a notorious conflict avoider - and your grades, you had told Dejun about Mark and your future interactions at the first chance you had gotten: the moment he had picked you up for your date that afternoon. Like the greenest flag he was, your boyfriend had had more questions about the project itself than the boy as the only thing he truly cared about was that Mark didn’t try to force all the work on you and didn’t act inappropriately in your company.

Which he didn’t. Mark was always on time, he always did his parts, he always brought new ideas to the table and was always kind and respectful towards you even when his actions came off a little timid. So naturally, you had nothing to complain about. Dejun had nothing to be worried about. Everything was beyond picture perfect on paper.

So why was that the more time you spent with Mark Lee, the more you felt like you were cheating on your boyfriend in a way? Even though both of you were mindful of the other’s relationship, hence never sat close enough to one another to start any gossip. There had been one time when you had even refused a free chocolate croissant that a barista had offered you because he had thought you were a couple, hence entitled for their promotion.

Looking down at the half-eaten chicken-mayo sandwich on your plate, then back up at the boy in front of you who was jotting down snippets in his notebook like wildfire, you couldn’t help but wonder whether this nasty feeling inside of you rooted in the fact that you were open with Mark about something immensely personal that you had never had the guts to tell Dejun. Were you unfaithful to your partner whenever you admitted that even after a year with the boy you called your soulmate, you weren’t sure about the hype that surrounded these types of relationships?

Sure, yours was an amazing person who cared for your physical and mental well-being, but as awful as it sounded, you didn’t feel like you couldn’t have lived without him. His affection gave something extra to your boring, everyday life, but you could have gone without his gifts and questions for a long while, which didn’t seem to match with all those low-key desperate and dependent descriptions people could find in papers that analysed this phenomenon.

Where was the gut-wrenching feeling of being away from your soulmate for too long? Where was the soul-consuming contentment their presence was supposed to give you? You weren’t sure you had ever gotten to experience those butterflies in your tummy, either. It was more like anxiety that took over you whenever you thought of all the money and time Dejun spent on you when you were so plain and boring.

Not that you hated your personality. You were confident in your own, quiet way. Something just didn’t add up. It wasn’t how you had pictured it when you had been younger.

‘What do you think about these lines? I’m not quite sure yet… Prof might think it’s a bit too dramatic. Man, I don’t want that,’ he grimaced as he pushed his notebook towards you, then took a sip from his lukewarm drink. The whipped cream on top of Mark’s iced chocolate had become such a sorry sight, honestly.

He didn’t seem to mind, though.

So you didn’t ponder over it, either, despite your unreasonable urge to take it out of his hands and order a new iced chocolate for him for his hard work. He really hadn’t exaggerated when he had said he wanted to give his all during this project.

Hovering over the worn notebook, you read through the new passages, frowning at how much his words actually resonated with you not because it was a bad thing, but because despite the ugly truth in them, they did sound dramatic. You could totally picture your classmates calling you ungrateful for not appreciating what both of you had: a caring significant other.

‘Yeah, I… Maybe we could switch up “lifeless” with… Hm,’ you tapped your lower lip with your index finger once, twice, three times, before you leaned back against your chair and let out a contemplative sigh. ‘You know, I thought writing a whole ass story about the same topic is difficult, but these rhymes! It feels like I’m writing nursery songs when I finally come up with something,’ you let out a pained chuckle because seriously, even with your expanded vocabulary, your ideas were nowhere near as amazing as Mark’s verses.

He was so good at what he was doing.

But then again, he was in his last year just like you. And he had passed the uni entrance exam of his major with flying colours, if his stories could have been trusted.

‘I like your nursery songs,’ Mark comments between two sips, his gaze on his notebook so damn intense, you were kind of convinced he didn’t even notice he was complimenting you. Otherwise, his cheeks would have already had a rose-coloured tint to them (like it usually happened when he felt embarrassed or too exposed). ‘Besides, I could never write over twenty pages about the same characters. That’s just wild.’

You sucked in your lower lip, the sudden hit of shyness dressing your whole face in a darker, crimson colour as you tried to downplay your hard work in your head, as you tried so hard to find the perfect words that could have simultaneously got the spotlight off you and belittle those hours you spent on your stories…

Your struggle must have been written on your face, because before you could have done as much as open your mouth, Mark smiled at you and your mind went blank.

So you just accepted the compliment - was that a compliment? - with a small ‘Thanks,’ and an even smaller smile.

Since you preferred working on your stories in silence, in the sanctuary of your room where no one judged you for rewriting the same paragraphs way too many times, you didn’t have your Google doc pulled up in front of you. However, you did take a couple of notes in your phone while you were munching on the rest of your sandwich.

You liked how neither you, nor Mark felt the need to fill the silence all the time with mindless chatter. You also liked how he was undoubtedly curious, but never pushy. He made sure you knew he was eager to hear about your process, your life even, but kept his questions to the minimum.

It had been a while since you met someone who adjusted to your needs so easily, Yuju being the last and second addition to the group right after your father. 

‘You know…’ Mark started in a neutral voice, urging you to shift your focus point and look up at him. Hence, you did, abandoning your phone slowly as you carefully put it back on the table.

Mark was silent for a moment, wordlessly scribbling out words then rewriting entire lines in his already messy notebook, which admittedly made you smile under your nose. The peculiar sight almost made you believe that you could have written a page or two yourself in the boy’s company: that as unthinkable as it sounded, his presence wouldn’t have forced you out of the zone while you were immersed in your work.

You shook your head to get rid of this useless train of thoughts. It wasn’t appropriate; and the fact that your instincts told you it wasn’t appropriate just made it even more inappropriate, because seriously. Why was it freaking you out internally that the two of you clicked so much when it should have made you relieved instead? Wasn’t it an amazing thing that he was a nice project partner?

‘Sometimes it feels like Haeri likes me more than how much I like her.’

Your eyes widened in shock before you quickly schooled your facial expression. You didn’t want him to feel judged when you were the last person on Earth who had the right to call him out on his confession. Not that anyone should have been allowed to make comments on other people’s personal business, let alone their relationship with their soulmate.

Trying to disregard just how heavy the atmosphere got, you tilted your head sideways and gave the boy a non-judgemental smile, because that was the best you could do with your lack of experience in comforting people. You hoped your seemingly calm demeanour would distract him long enough, so you could think back of the last time your father had helped you through a rough period in your life.

What had he done when you had gotten rejected by the university you had wanted to attend the most? Ah, he had brought you something sweet, a slice of red velvet cake maybe, and told you his own experience with rejections and how he had gotten his shit together each time he had come face to face with a closed door. 

‘Sometimes I get anxious when it’s just the two of us with Dejun.’

The urge to cover your mouth with both of your hands as soon as the words were out in the open was strong, but you tried your best to fight it and act rather nonchalant: like what you had just admitted didn’t go against everything the society taught you about soulmates. Like it was normal that you felt so on edge around someone who was made especially for you.

You reached out for your own drink and slurped it until the last freaking drop, so you had a convenient excuse to stand up and leave the scene. You didn’t look back as you walked up to the counter and stood in the line, wishing for the barista to work at the speed of a snail. You intended to waste at least five or so minutes on waiting, so your heart could have rested a bit before you had to face Mark again.

Why had you said that? You shouldn’t have said that. Not like that. You should have found a better way to put it. Or you should have just kept your mouth shut and found another way to reassure Mark that there was nothing wrong with him.

You felt so ashamed of yourself suddenly. You simultaneously wished that your pitiful words had never gotten back to Dejun and that somehow he had figured your true feelings out, so you could have been freed from this choking weight on your chest.

Since when were you so goddamn selfish?

Once it was your turn to order - it was too soon, way too soon -, you asked for a matcha latte and two slices of chocolate cake, then paid with your card and reassured the barista that his coworker didn’t have to carry your tray to your table, you were more than happy to wait for it by the counter while he took the next customer’s order. If he wanted to look at you funny because of your strange request, he did his best to conceal his thoughts. He simply informed the female barista behind his back about your instructions and turned to the next customer.

Mark said thanks for the sweet treat when you eventually placed the chocolate cake between his drink and notebook and teasingly promised to buy you something equally high in sugar the next time you two met up as he reached out for the tiny, metal fork. He didn’t bring up the soulmate topic for the rest of your supposed brainstorming session despite how it should have been the main subject of your meeting. Instead, he shared random stories with you about Haechan, and how his weird friend was competing for Renjun’s attention these days with a dude called Yuchan - his own partner for the same project you two were working on.

‘He likes Renjun a lot, doesn’t he?’ You asked, more as a mindless statement to show some interest in the topic than anything else.

The boy simply hummed in response, his knowing smile barely hiding in the corner of his mouth as he turned back to his notebook and jotted down a couple of new lines and potential rhymes while you were busy finishing your dessert.

Your afternoon ended up being pretty productive in the end, and the additional two pages you wrote later that night only added to the satisfaction you felt as you got ready for bed.

You didn’t pay any mind to them initially. In fact, you hardly noticed the slight changes in your own body language and the slowly decreasing distance between your bodies whenever you spend some one on one time with Mark outside of your shared class. However, your obliviousness didn’t change the fact that your meetups were getting longer and longer, or that your conversations became more and more diverse.

The first time you heard people talk about your “dates” with the boy, you were at the popular organic coffee shop on campus with Yuju, who immediately pulled you towards a different table when she realised what was going on.

Rumours. There were rumours about you cheating on Dejun with Mark Lee.

Your hands were shaking the whole time you were waiting for your food and drink, and when you finally got them, you tugged on your best friend’s sleeve to plead with her, so she would ask the barista on your behalf to change your order into take away. You didn’t want to spend your free period in public anymore. On the other hand, you also couldn’t make yourself speak up, too ashamed for inconveniencing the poor worker.

You didn’t go to your last class that day. You didn’t even leave your dorm room until Dejun sent you a text that he was waiting for you in the communal area.

Your messy bed hair and your loose sweatpants and hoodie combo had never resembled your mood more than at that moment you dragged yourself to the lounge, towards the khaki couch your boyfriend was sitting on, patiently waiting.

The major part of your anxiety rooted in your belief that your actions and conscious decisions had finally made Dejun see that you were a horrible soulmate. And while you did have your doubts about the whole system and how compatible these magical bonds truly were, the idea of losing your destined partner so early into your life was terrifying.

You were terrified of failing that one person in the world whose life you were supposed to fill with nothing but happiness.

‘It’s okay, love. Come here,’ was the first thing that left the boy’s mouth, and your eyes got a little teary upon seeing his arms spread wide open for you. Like always, he made sure you knew that you could find peace in his embrace if that was what you needed.

You crushed into Dejun’s body without hesitation, and he scooped you up in his arms, letting you get comfortable on his lap despite those students nearby who were not-so-subtly looking at you. You didn’t even notice them, too occupied by holding onto your boyfriend’s tee and hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

‘I’m so sorry. I… I’m so, so, so sorry,’ you apologised over and over again, until your throat got dry and your voice a little husky.

Meanwhile, Dejun kept petting your hair and stroking your back gently with his other hand that didn’t help with your balance.

‘It’s okay. I know you. I know you would never do anything like that,’ he whispered in your ears, reassuring you that he didn’t believe any of those nasty stories that were circulating on campus about you and Mark Lee, and that he would never give you any ultimatums, either, because you were free to make friends regardless of their gender.

Until Mark treated you with respect and didn’t cross your boundaries, he was okay with the guy. Especially because neither of you had ever given him any reasons to suspect you of cheating. You never failed to inform your boyfriend about your meetings in spite of them being regular occurrences, and that one time he had met Mark in front of your lecture hall, the boy had told him he was okay with the two of you going on an impromptu date instead of your scheduled study session if that had been Dejun’s reason for waiting for you. Mark Lee hadn’t thrown a tantrum, he hadn’t tried to make you choose or outright guilt-trip you into staying with him.

He had simply introduced himself and wished you a good time.

‘But the…’

‘Not buts. These people are just bored out of their mind. I’m telling you it’s okay. So believe me, please, when I say these rumours don’t change anything for me,’ he kept coaxing you out of that dark place your mind had pushed you into, starting to rock you back and forth as much as he could in your less than ideal position on the couch.

You didn’t know how long it took him to make you stop blaming yourself for the current situation, and you had no idea how many people witnessed or recorded this intimate moment between you two, but it didn’t really matter in that soft, fluffy bubble Dejun’s love and care created for you to heal in.

You felt safe and secure in your relationship.

Pulling a little further from his shoulder and looking him in the eyes, you had absolutely no doubt about it that he meant every word: both about his feelings for you and about your friendship with Mark.

‘I…’ you choked on your words, unable to express yourself the way you wanted to due to the sudden guilt that washed over you when you realised you couldn’t tell him you loved him, even though a part of you knew you did. You loved Dejun, but saying it out loud felt wrong, almost like a white lie that could break your relationship over time. And you hated how damn frustrated your own incapabilities made you feel.

Because you loved your boyfriend.

You just weren’t sure your love had the same weight his had for you.

‘I’m so grateful for you. I really am,’ you said at the end, slowly lifting your hands to his cheeks and cupping his face. As you were caressing his skin with your thumbs, you wished your eyes could convey just how honest you were at that moment; you wished he knew you loved him in your own way, you were simply too insecure about your feelings in comparison to his.

He gave you too much.

‘I know,’ Dejun gifted you a brilliant smile, before he mimicked your actions and cupped your face, so that he could pull you closer for an innocent peck on the lips. It was lovely, he was lovely, hence naturally, you couldn’t have helped yourself but mirror his pleased grin, your heart lighter and not at the very same time.

It was confusing, this whole soulmate bond you shared, but you decided to not ponder over the torrent inside you, but be happy that you still had this amazing person in your life.

You stayed in the lounge for a little longer, your face buried in the junction between Dejun’s neck and shoulder, then let yourself be convinced to change into less cosy clothes, because apparently, your boyfriend had hoped to take you out on a date once your situation had been sorted out.

Even though it was a program for only the two of you, you didn’t find the power in yourself to cancel his plans. Tagging along was the least you could do for him after he had proven you his unfaltering support.

You didn’t have huge expectations for how the rest of your afternoon would go. Since you had an inkling that it was Yuju who had informed your boyfriend about how upset you were about the rumours, you were kind of certain he was aware that you had never gotten to eat your late lunch after your European Literature lecture around two. Therefore, you accepted that he would feed you as an act of kindness and genuine care for you, and pushed down the knot in your throat that took away your appetite.

Walking up to an empty table at your favourite hamburger place - which was a comfortable, ten-minute walk from your dormitory -, the last thing you could have imagined to see was Mark Lee being berated in public by a pretty brunette you had only ever seen pictures of. Your slow steps came to an immediate halt and your eyes widened in horror when the furious girl abruptly stood up from her chain and reached out for the milkshake her boyfriend was anxiously playing with.

‘Shut the hell up, I’m not doing that. We’re not doing that, you asshole,’ she screamed in his face, and was clearly about to do something drastic when one of the waiters marched up to their table and grabbed the girl’s wrist.

You could feel Dejun’s fingers being wrapped around your own, too, before he gently pulled you towards an empty table on the other side of the customer area. You barely registered your feet moving, hyper fixated on Mark’s resigned face and overall emotionless demeanour. You had never seen him so unresponsive. It was as though he felt nothing - no anger, frustration or desperation, no fear - while his girlfriend felt everything on behalf of the both of them.

The longer you were watching them, the more uneasy you felt and at one point, you had to force yourself to tear your gaze away when you felt your boyfriend push you down on a chair with your back to the commotion. 

‘If you want to comfort him, send him a text,’ he suggested, his voice gentle. There wasn’t a hint of accusation in it, like he wasn’t talking about the very guy people on campus claimed was fucking you behind his back. Your lips trembled not only because of how ashamed you felt at that moment, but because you really, truly wanted to be there for Mark, and Dejun had realised it sooner than your mind had caught up on it. ‘I just don’t want you anywhere near that girl. Especially right now.’

You pursed your lips together and nodded, understanding where he was coming from while you were simultaneously grateful for the reminder of how bad it could have ended if you had given in to your urge to walk up to the couple. You hated public attention - you couldn’t have been able to handle the negative spotlight.

‘I’m sorry, you’re right. Thank you,’ you said and reached out for the laminated menu card in the middle of the table despite how familiar both of you were with each item on it. It was more of a way of stalling, of putting yourself back together than anything else.

You didn’t want any of the waiters to come up to you and take your order. You didn’t want any attention on you, no matter how miniscule, until Haeri was still in the same building. You were scared of her anger and just how justified it might have felt if she had blamed you for their relationship troubles.

Dejun reached out for your hand tentatively and stroked your sensitive skin between the base of your thumb and index finger in a calming manner before he started to chat your ears off about the hamburger he wanted to try. Apparently, there were three new items on the menu that you hadn’t even noticed, one of them a burger with two patties, tomato and pickle slices, blueberry jam and various spices you would have never thought of mixing together, but hell if it hadn’t sounded intriguing.

Thus you decided to order a similar one with strawberry jam and caramelised onion rings and refused to think about Haeri, Mark Lee and any of the stupid rumours that might have led to their fight.  

You told yourself you had to set your priorities straight.

You told yourself contacting Mark could have waited an hour or so. Because it could. It had to. You had no justifiable reason to put him before your own relationship.

Except, when you eventually got down to message him, Mark left your first text on read and didn’t open any of the following ones. A nasty voice inside of your head told you that he was reading them through his notifications, but you couldn’t have been sure, thus you couldn’t decide whether you should have felt annoyed or worried.

On the first night, tossing and turning in your bed, you settled on the latter. However, when he purposely avoided as much as looking at you during your weekly Creative writing slash Lyrics writing seminar, it took everything in you to not look hurt and irritated. On the one hand, you had seen his fight with Haeri, so you understood that you might have been the last person he wanted to be near. On the other hand, you didn’t want to accept that either of you had done anything wrong just because you had become friends.

If you had let yourself believe that what you two had was hurting your soulmate bonds, you would have started to spiral again despite how much time and effort your boyfriend had put into convincing you that everything was alright.

That your connection wasn’t damaged.

So you shook your head and accepted his decision with dignity - albeit, with a heavy heart. It was a soothing gel to your open wounds that at least you had already agreed on the plot for your story and his song. This way, you really didn’t have to force any conversations with him that would have surely spoiled your precious memories with the boy.

As expected, Mark Lee didn’t join you during the second half of your class for your usual, light-hearted brainstorming session, so you busied yourself with a book that you were reading for a different course. Not a second after the bell signalled the end of the seminar, you were walking towards the wooden double doors like a man on a mission.

Your steps didn’t falter: not when you heard Haechan calling your name, nor when he scolded Mark for something you didn’t quite catch and had no interest in anyway.

You were a horrible liar. And a horrible soulmate.

Because while you were determined to convince yourself that Mark’s cold behaviour didn’t bother you at all - it was his loss, wasn’t this what people always said? -, you couldn’t stop thinking about his blank face throughout the rest of the day.

Did this alone make you the worst soulmate in history? Debatable. However, what definitely earned you that title was the fact that you were currently cuddled up with your boyfriend on his couch, watching a silly Chinese movie about high school sweethearts, and you had no idea what the real story was about. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about Mark Lee and the possible end of your friendship.

You hissed, skin burning around your soulmate mark underneath your hoodie’s sleeve. It was Dejun’s hoodie, to be precise, but he always put it on his bed, neatly folded, when he knew you were coming over, so you wouldn’t have to look through his massive wardrobe in search of your comfort clothes. This was how precious your time was to him.

How precious you were to him.

You swallowed down the panicked lump in your throat and deliberately disregarded the pain. You told yourself that it was nothing, that until your boyfriend showed no sign of discomfort, it was only in your head. After all, if your bond had reached its breaking point because of your shameful thoughts, he would have felt it, too.

It was so itchy, though, as though your mark craved your attention and was determined to get it no matter what it took. It was driving you up the wall, and it also made it even harder to concentrate on the movie you were watching.

So at one point, you gave in and excused yourself, heading straight to the bathroom.

‘Do you want me to stop it?’ You could hear your boyfriend’s worried voice, and you gave it a quick thought on your way, concluding that it would have been suspicious if you had acted any differently from how you usually were on these nights, so you took him up on the offer despite having no interest in the movie.

As soon as the bathroom door was closed behind your back, you rolled up your sleeve like a maniac and came face to face with your biggest fear: your soulmate was single. Which could only mean two things - one more terrifying than the other.

You let your arm fall back by your side with a defeated sigh and sat down on the toilet lid, so your legs couldn’t give out at the most inconvenient time possible. You had to start breathing again. There was no way you could have afforded falling apart at Dejun’s place after you had single-handedly undermined your shared future.

Pulling on your hair out of frustration, you almost let out an unhinged laughter as you were contemplating which one would have been worse: you losing your soulmate because of a new friendship that might not have existed anymore, or you wasting both Dejun’s and your time in a relationship that was built on a false sense of belonging.

Could it have been a cruel joke that your soulmate marks had changed at the same moment, just when you had agreed to be his girlfriend? Seriously, what were the changes? How many other couples could have been out there, oblivious to the fact that they weren’t meant to be? You had gotten lucky with Dejun, his gentle and caring nature always wanting the best for you, but what about those people who were convinced that they were with the right person while being abused by their own partner?

Your head in the gutter, you couldn’t stop thinking about how much more sense this error in the system made when you were recalling stories about domestic violence, cheaters and financial abuse. God, you felt so stupid. You felt so damn angry.

Why was no one talking about the existence of mismatches? Why were they swept under the rug like they weren’t real?

‘Hey, love! Are you okay in there? Do you need me to bring you some painkillers or a cup of your peppermint tea?’ Dejun’s worried voice filtered through the fog in your mind, your lips trembling because of how amazing this guy was. A gem of a man. He didn’t deserve a shitty fake-soulmate like you.

You choked on the first sob that escaped your throat.

‘Jun…’ you cried, drowning in the crazy mixture of your emotions, unsure which ones were appropriate to begin with and which ones you should have focused on in the first place. You didn’t want to lose Dejun: this one thing you were sure about. However, the ugly realisation that it was more because of the stability he gave you than the love you felt for him filled you with instant disgust.

You were shaking as the world around you slowly fell apart.

‘Can I come in?’ You didn’t respond, but you didn’t have to, because the next thing you heard was your boyfriend warning you in a slightly louder voice: ‘I’m coming in!’

Your body tensed up and relaxed simultaneously when Dejun scooped you up and pulled you against his chest, so he could rest your head in the crook of his neck and caress your back like his touch could brush aside all your distress.

‘It’s okay, everything is okay,’ he repeated over and over, holding you a little tighter once you showed a sign that you were there with him despite your silence. ‘Whatever happened, I’m here for you. I’m here for you.’

‘But you won’t be…’ you objected even though you didn’t truly believe that he would pack his things and leave the moment he realised you weren’t the right person for him. He was just too kind to do something so cruel, especially when you were clearly having a breakdown. If anything, you could have bet on it that he would make sure you were in the right state of mind before he cut you out of his life. Yeah, you had little doubt about that: he would have tried to put you back together before he left.

However, at the end of the day, facts remained facts. He wouldn’t be here for you for much longer and not many things were quite okay, either.

‘I will be. I’m not leaving you,’ he kept repeating, every time a bit firmer, which pretty much made it impossible for you to break the news to him. This imaginary, ugly, sticky, hairy lump in your throat just got bigger and bigger.

So you gave yourself a pitiful moment to bask in the warmth of Dejun, the comfort he never failed to provide you, then slowly pulled away from his chest and rolled up your sleeve. You couldn’t take your eyes off the slightly red skin around your new soulmate mark, which was the less painful sight anyway.

The look on Dejun’s face when the realisation hit him? You could barely steal a glance at it while your gaze loitered over his tense body and hasty movements as he checked his own mark, but it already broke your heart.

‘We are…’ your boyfriend - was he still your boyfriend? - tentatively took your arm into his hand, then brushed his thumb over the new letters, shaking. It was clear that he had a hard time putting his feelings into words, and you couldn’t blame him. Out of the two of you, you had always thought it was him who loved you more. Thus, his pain must have been ten times worse than yours and you were already over at least one mental breakdown.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ you repeated like a broken record, because you genuinely didn’t know how else to express the guilt that weighed down on you even though logically speaking it was neither of your fault. You had agreed to become official, your tattoos had changed, it had worked just like in the textbooks.

Why would anyone have questioned the validity of your bond? You had never been taught about the precautions you should have made. Up until this moment, you didn’t even know it was possible to end up with someone who wasn’t your soulmate.

This whole situation made your head hurt and sucked the energy out of your limbs.

The heavier the silence became, the gloomier the atmosphere got, but you were too drained to figure out how to fix it, so you let Dejun process the unbelievable at his own speed, letting him caress your skin as if his strokes could have erased or re-written the black lines under your skin.

They couldn’t. But they did ease some of the tension in your muscles after a while.

You started to wear long-sleeved clothes and nude covers after that tear-filled night to avoid another wave of nasty rumours around campus about you and your relationship with Dejun. The two of you had decided to talk about your future once you calmed down properly and let yourselves think through your options without jumping to conclusions. As far as Dejun knew the two of you worked well together, so it was understandable why he didn’t want to rush the break-up. On the other hand, your rational side and your heart saw the current situation as the perfect opportunity to start an internal war.

Your life was definitely enviable with Dejun, so you could see the appeal of staying with him for a very long time, building a home together and maybe even starting a family, because you had no doubt about it that he would be a wonderful husband and a wonderful father, but… It finally made sense: why a part of you always missed that something special people liked to brag about when they were talking about their significant other.

Fortunately, the deadlines of your semester projects and lengthy assignments slowly arrived, along with your upcoming exam week, so you were too busy to think about any of the drama in your personal life. Mark Lee ghosting you without any heads up? Who could care about that when they had a six-pages-long essay to finish on the political influence of French literacy? Dejun checking on you every morning, lunch break and evening while also refusing to meet you face to face? Nah, the importance of the founding of Hangul with hundreds of Chinese characters to memorise had to be your top priority.

You couldn’t lose both your boyfriend and your scholarship in the same semester. You had to focus on your education. You also needed to finish the first draft of your thesis by the end of the week.

Letting out a tired sigh, you took a sip from your lukewarm coffee latte and shifted your gaze from your notes to the person in front of the professor’s stand. Renjun was talking about the story he and Yuchan had come up with for this class, yet, if anyone had asked you what was their final topic, you couldn’t have answered beyond the very basics: that just like everyone else, they had built their project around the soulmate system.

God, you couldn’t have waited to be done with this shit for good.

‘Thank you, Yuchan, Renjun,’ the two professors clapped their hands modestly after their constructive feedback, then jotted down a few more comments on their papers and called for the next group.

Your duo with Mark Lee.

Since you hadn’t talked with the boy in a while, you weren’t exactly sure what to expect of your presentation; however, you had done your homework and prepared a neat PPT about your concept, so it should have been okay.

Except, when you walked in front of the class, in front of the stand where Mark was already waiting for you with his guitar in his hand, your brain went blank. He looked… different yet so damn familiar, it was messing with your head.

‘Okay, which one of you would like to start?’ The Lyrics writing professor asked, his curious eyes wandering from you to his own student as he leaned back against his seat comfortably.

You gulped and quickly shook yourself out of your stupor, but before you could have raised your hand or blurted out a timid “Me!”, Mark beat you to it and pulled a chair in front of the professor’s stand, so he could play the guitar with more ease.

You stepped a bit further from him to give him space - you also appreciated the invisibility that came with your decisions, the other students’ attention laser focused on the boy -, and linked your arms under your boobs, pressing your notes against your chest. Due to his sudden silent treatment, you hadn’t had the chance to hear any snippets of the melody in advance, but it didn’t surprise you how soft the short intro had come out to be. 

It sounded beautiful, in a very bittersweet, heart-churning way.

It was the perfect OST for your short story.

Towards the second verse, when he was singing about the oblivious victims of a system that should have only brought them happiness, your eyes filled with tears to the brim, but you quickly turned away and wiped them harshly, because it really wasn’t the time. You would need to present your story in detail in less than two minutes. Three, if you were lucky.

You didn’t remember the presentation. You couldn’t process any of the constructive feedback you received from your professors. The only thing you were quite sure about, somewhere in the back of your head, was that Mark Lee had led you back to your seat by your elbow, then taken a seat in front of you.

The latter was still a thing: his messy, brown hair in your line of sight while the next duo was talking about their own perspectives with vivid hand-gestures, almost like they were openly arguing in front of everyone. It was weird. You felt weird.

Your eager fingers picked on the edge of the nude plaster you had put on your soulmate mark that morning. Deep down you knew that if you had taken off the cover, nothing would have changed. However, a part of you still hoped that things could go back to how they had used to be.

Did that make you a relationship addict?

Had you developed an unreasonable fear of ending up all alone?

You let out an exasperated sigh. It wasn’t healthy: your thoughts focusing on one thing so restlessly like you were starting to become obsessed with your relationship status, although Dejun had never broken up with you. He was still choosing you despite the palpable distance, putting your well-being first. So why couldn’t you just let it go?

You furrowed your brows when you felt the light vibration of your phone against the small of your back, and you turned your upper body slightly in order to fish it out of your tote bag as it could have been something important. You deliberately silenced the voice inside your head that told you it could be Dejun reaching out to you. For one, he also had a class in this period. For two, he was a meticulous person. He wouldn’t have rushed himself make a decision as important as your future together.

You shook your head, mentally debating whether it would have been a good or bad thing if you had been wrong about your boyfriend’s stance on this whole mess, when your gaze fell on the notification on your screen. It was a kakao message from Mark, asking you to meet up with him after your class. Just a laconic “pls. same place, same time”.

You were ashamed to admit, but you were staring at the message for quite a while before you sent back a hopefully nonchalant “ok” and shoved your phone back into your bag. You had mixed feelings about his sudden interest in you, but it was the day of your presentation, the end of your project, so you might have as well entertained him a little. As far as you were concerned, he wanted to discuss the feedback with you or give you his two cents on the rather bitter ending of your story.

You told yourself it was a writer thing: that you wanted to hear his opinion.

It wasn’t that you were hopeful, and God forbid did it mean that you were hoping that the two of you could still be friends.

By the time your shared class ended, you were half-convinced, though. And you also had this baseless confidence that despite your nerves, you appeared to be nonchalant. Whether that was true or not, it didn’t really matter. The belief alone gave you enough strength to not walk a step behind Mark Lee while the two of you were heading towards the coffee shop you had used to frequent at.

You were walking side by side as if everything was alright.

As an introvert, you would have never thought that ordering your drink from a trainee barista you had never seen before could be the least stressful part of your meet-up with someone you had once considered your friend, but as soon as you took a seat and Mark did the same across from you, the silence turned unbearable. It made your palms clammy, your heart rate unstable and your stomach upset with the whole situation. At one point, you were genuinely afraid that the new employee had messed up your order and you would shit yourself on campus because of a few sips of fresh milk, like that was even possible.

You weren’t even lactose-intolerant. You simply preferred drinking plant-based milk, like oat and almond milk, when you had that option because of your acne-prone skin.

‘I broke up with Haeri,’ was the first thing that left the boy’s mouth, and it pretty much made it impossible for you to form any coherent sentence.

Mark had broken his bond with his soulmate - and there was a big possibility that he had been pushed to do so because of the rumours your friendship had started. You felt sick to your stomach. You had no idea what to say, whether to comfort him or give him advice. Whether you were even qualified to act as a relationship expert when yours was hanging on by a thin thread.

You refused to take your eyes off your drink, your quiet reaction no more than a soft hum. You wished Mark would have told you what he had expected from this conversation. If he had wanted to reconcile or simply inform you about his break-up before the two of you went on separate ways.

The carrot cake you ordered was way too sweet. You frowned once you swallowed down the first bite.

‘Both of our soulmate marks stayed the same, though…’ he added after a bit of hesitation, like he was carefully looking for the words to explain the situation. ‘Which means our real soulmates are… yeah. Still in relationships.’

Eyes wide like saucers, you looked at Mark in bewilderment. So Dejun and you weren’t the only ones. (Of course, you weren’t the only ones, that part had never been a question!) God, if it hadn’t felt unreal to know someone who was going through the same experience! What were the chances?

‘Dejun is not my soulmate,’ you blurted out without any regard for those who were sitting at the table next to yours or checking if anyone was listening in on your conversation. Maybe, it wasn’t the wisest idea to discuss something so raw and intimate in a public space; however, at that moment these concerns barely crossed your mind.

You accidentally found someone who could fully understand your current fears and struggles without being involved in the situation itself. Someone who had enough insight to support you without the need to shelter his own heart, thus distance himself from you. That was… you were right, and he finally decided to stop ghosting you in the first place.

‘Oh…’ Mark acknowledged your confession with a disappointed little sound, his lips jutting out while he stole a quick glance at the soulmate mark on his wrist.

Your surprise was genuine when you realised that unlike you, he was wearing his unchanged tattoo on his skin with confidence. But you figured, it was different when most people around him still thought he was happy and very much together with Haeri.

He would have had more questions to answer if he had suddenly started to cover up the proof of their love.

‘Do you think the profs liked our take on the topic?’ You asked when the silence became too long, and Mark showed no sign of adding anything more to your discussion. You took a small yet determined bite from your cake. It was still overly sweet, but you would be damned if you had let it go to waste for the money you had spent on it. ‘I kind of… zoned out when they were giving us feedback.’

The corner of Mark’s lips twitched, but he tried his best to swallow back his giggles. He even went as far as reaching out for his drink, so he could occupy himself in a somewhat subtle way.

He was painfully obvious. Still, you appreciated the gesture almost as much - if not more - as his willingness to go along with your lame attempt at changing the topic.

Two hours and a half had never flown by so fast, so easily.

Your life took on a new norm after your final exams.

For once, you moved back to Ansan for the school break (partly) to save some money on savoury fast food and unnecessarily yet aesthetic coffee dates that you liked to take yourself on. It was also less stressful to work on your thesis in the comfort of your childhood home, your dad never the one to skip out on serving you freshly cut, peeled fruit slices to boost your brain. Naturally, the closeness of your family was a real remedy for your troubled soul.

Meanwhile, Mark Lee took it upon himself to keep you updated on the city life and got into a never-ending conversation with you on instagram and kakao, his random questions and lyrics snippers seldom preceded by any hellos or his. Long story short, he took the whole “never making you feel ghosted or left out again” very seriously, even though you had reassured him on multiple occasions that you didn’t have to know everything about his days. Once he had started, there had been no turning back.

He kept your mind constantly occupied - that was your only excuse for forgetting about your relationship troubles with Dejun and not realising just how unhealthy and dependent it was to keep sending your boyfriend the same three messages each and every day: a curt good night, a somewhat more lively good morning and a repeated promise that you were taking good care of yourself despite your tendency to skip meals when they weren’t pre-made.

So imagine your surprise when Mark absent-mindedly asked you during one of your chill video calls whether you were still in a relationship despite your new soulmate mark, and the answer didn’t come to you as naturally as it was supposed to. Sure, Dejun wasn’t your one and only whom the universe had sent especially to you, and it had been over a month since you had seen his face, but he had promised you that… 

You still referred to him as your boyfriend in your head!

Not to mention that he would have told you if he had made up his mind, if he had wanted to put an end to your relationship and stay in your life only as a friend. Because he would have wanted to stay in your life, wouldn’t he? He had said he wasn’t leaving you, he just needed some time to digest the undeniable: that your soulmate was suddenly single, but the two of you had never broken up.

You had never broken up. You still hadn’t broken up.

Right?

‘I think so?’ You semi-asked, semi-claimed while you were picking on your nails, resisting the urge to pick up the fantasy book you had carefully put on your bedside table when Mark had called you. It was difficult to look into your front camera, so you kept your gaze on your hands.

‘You think so?’ The boy asked back, clearly taken aback by your answer.

You huffed, annoyed at him for no reason. 

Hell. Maybe it was yourself you were truly frustrated with. Had you even made the smallest attempt at fixing your relationship with Dejun? You were just waiting on him as though the ball was on his court now when in reality, you had never made the first move.

It was comfortable, way too comfortable, that you didn’t have to deal with the situation head on since Dejun wasn’t around. Because he “needed space”. When had been the last time you had checked on how he was doing? A good girlfriend would have been more worried about his well-being.

You gulped as a sudden wave of guilt washed over you.

‘I didn’t…’ you let out another strained sigh, your cheeks burning due to embarrassment, although you were fairly confident that Mark wouldn’t have judged you for what you were about to say. ‘I haven’t seen him in a while, and I never really asked him how he feels about us or… how he feels.’

‘Oh…’

‘It sounds horrible,’ you murmured under your nose, willing yourself to glance at the screen of your phone, so you could see Mark’s face. You had to look him in the eye to decipher how he felt about your actions, because his silence wasn’t easy to read. Was he disappointed? Did he think you were a bad person?

Somehow, the first option was scarier.

‘I’m not gonna lie, man, it does sound like you’re delaying the inevitable because it’s easy to not be the “bad guy” who breaks his heart, but…’

‘But?’ You interjected a little desperately as you were hoping that there would come a part in which you didn’t sound as selfish as you did in his analysis. Surely, you weren’t keeping your boyfriend in your relationship because it was convenient or because you were a coward who couldn’t put an end to your suffering.

You swallowed back a groan. You were being ridiculous, comparing whatever you two had to real agony. 

‘You’re not a horrible person. I know you, you were talking about yourself and not this whole thing when you said that, so yeah. Don’t think about yourself that way, because it’s not true,’ he confirmed a second time, sending you a tight-lipped smile through the camera before he turned over and made himself more comfortable on his own bed.

You reciprocated the gesture with a smaller albeit grateful smile.

The two of you stayed silent for a while. Mark was humming a song you hadn’t recognized, while you were thinking about how to make things right.

‘Do you think I should meet up with him? Talk things through? Break up with him?’ You asked, but the more you spoke, the clearer it became that these were exactly the things you had to do, so you weren’t actually surprised when instead of giving you a direct answer, Mark gifted you a proud smile and asked you about your thesis.

He was so unsubtle whenever he made an attempt at diverting the topic, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you found it quite adorable.

‘Actually! I might be able to wrap-up my analysis this week. It depends on whether or not my period gets in the way on the weekend,’ you bragged, genuinely proud of your progress that was only possible because you loved the topic you were researching: the differences between the storytelling of theatre plays and movies written for the silver screen.

‘Cool,’ Mark smiled at you, his teeth on full display. ‘Don’t push yourself too hard, though. You still have a lot of time until the deadline,’ he reminded you immediately, which gave you the perfect opportunity to tease him about his over-protectiveness and his own progress.

You didn’t think about Dejun for the rest of your call, but that also served as another reminder that it was time you started to be honest with him and yourself. Your issues hadn’t started with the change of your soulmate mark. They hadn’t even been brought upon you by the rumours that were still circulating around campus.

They had been there from the very beginning, in your heart, in the way you had always felt the need to invite your friend to your dates with Dejun, in your mild anxiety when the two of you were together without someone else keeping your boyfriend’s attention off of you.

You might have loved Dejun, you still did. However, you had never been in love with him, you could see it now clearly: the subtle yet undeniable difference between these two feelings. God, it was time, wasn’t it? That you finally set him free.

You went back to the capital city the next Saturday, because that was the first afternoon when neither did Dejun have an eight-hour-shift prior, nor were you in constant pain that made you feel easily irritable. One would have thought that one of these conditions would make THE TALK that much easier, but nothing could spare you the heartbreak.

In hindsight, you were grateful to the boy for allowing you - and suggesting - to have this conversation at his own place instead of in the uni dorm or at a public coffee shop, because you were shamelessly ugly crying while you were talking about your doubts and insecurities you had never mentioned to him while you two had been together. It was hard, seeing the hurt in his eyes. It was harder, when despite everything, he still tried to comfort you on his couch, but you did feel a little lighter by the time you two said your goodbyes.

Feeling melancholic, you blinked away another stubborn tear while looking up at the ceiling, then muffled a broken sob that threatened to escape your throat. You were in public now, trying to mend your heart with your favourite blueberry milkshake - and a slice of chocolate cake -, so you really couldn’t have afforded to break down again. That would have done no good to anyone involved; you got exhausted from the mere thought of more drama.

‘Here,’ you heard a familiar voice coming from across the table and something heavy being placed on the metal furniture. Confused, you let your head fall forwards and stared at the new glass of untouched blueberry milkshake in front of you. ‘This one is on me,’ Mark Lee said, not showing any signs of willingness to sit with you - nor to leave you be.

You pressed your lips into a thin line.

‘What are you doing here?’ You asked, because it was easier than saying thank you. Still, you made sure Mark knew you wouldn’t have minded if he stayed by not-so-subtly dragging your gaze from his face to the empty chair at your table, repeating the movement as many times as he needed to see it to understand.

Mark scoffed, more amused than anything, then took a seat.

‘You told me you were about to meet Dejun like…’ he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. ‘Four hours ago. Then, you went complete radio silence,’ he explained, making you frown. Had it been really that long since you had gotten off the bus near your ex-boyfriend’s place? ‘I was worried about you.’

It still didn’t explain how he had known where to find you when it wasn’t your usual coffee shop on campus, but you figured, you must have mentioned this particular milkshake shop to him enough times for him to draw the right conclusion. It was touching, that he paid so much attention quietly, and just knew when you needed someone’s silent support.

Albeit still only halfway through your first drink, you reached out for the free milkshake and pulled it closer to yourself with a grateful smile.

‘Thanks,’ you exclaimed with a bit more enthusiasm, although your liveliness soon deflated as you didn’t know how to start a light-hearted conversation. You didn’t necessarily want to talk about your mental breakdown in your ex-boyfriend’s living room, still embarrassed about the fact that you had needed to be comforted by the same person you had been deliberately breaking up with.

‘So…’ Mark broke the silence once you finished your first shake as though he wanted you to enjoy every drop of it before he dropped a bomb on you in public. You weren’t sure if his consideration had made any difference, but it was undoubtedly nice to not choke on your drink, so you decided to be grateful. ‘How did it go? Are you two singles again?’

Your first instinct was to hide your soulmate mark from him, which was stupid and irrational, but you guessed that was how instincts were. Your brain didn’t have much say in the process, overwhelmed by your inner need to protect yourself. Like Mark would have ever hurt you. Like your tattoo would have been affected by your recent break-up when its curves and lines had never had any connection to Dejun.

Slowly, you took your hand off your wrist and shrugged.

‘I guess so. I mean… His soulmate is still in a relationship, but… We both acknowledged verbally that we are no longer together, so somewhere in the world, his person also got a new tattoo and…’ you rambled, going on strong about the terrifying possibility that his soulmate - his real soulmate - might have also just realised that she had been in a fake “we’re meant to be” relationship this whole time.

The butterfly effect had never sounded so real and frightening - like a divine punishment that reached hundreds of thousands of innocent people just because once upon a time, two had made a silly mistake.

Someone took your hand. Mark took your hand, and only then you realised that you were trembling slightly. With anxiety? With frustration? Anger? You weren’t sure. Maybe, with a mixture of all three and more.

‘Take a deep breath,’ he instructed you gently, rubbing tentative circles into your skin, on the back of your hand that actually helped a lot more than you would have thought. ‘I know it feels like that right now, but not every relationship is as messed up as you think. Sure, there are people out there like us, like Dejun and Haeri, but there are others, too, who found their person and are happy,’ he said in a quiet voice, holding onto you the whole time.

You wanted to protest, you wanted to tell him how messed up the world was, but was there anything new you could have said to him? Mark was right, he had gone through something similar with his own ex. He knew.

Yet, he sounded almost hopeful. As though he still believed in his bond with his real love, his real partner for life. In the embodiment of the other half of his soul.

You scoffed and turned your head away, but didn’t take your hand out of his hold.

‘I’d like to show you something,’ he tried to ease you back into the conversation, squeezing your fingers lightly to get your attention, which you gave to him without much coaxing. He gifted you a brilliant smile in return.

Mark let go of your hand soon after, so that he could roll up his hoodie’s sleeve and show you his inked wrist.

Single.

His soulmate was single.

‘It changed not long after your last message. Maybe an hour, an hour and a half into your meet-up,’ he confessed, simultaneously shocking and rendering your brain. Was he trying to tell you that he was…

You yanked your hand out of his and stood up abruptly.

‘I’m sorry but… I really can’t do this now. I’m sorry,’ you apologised while you gathered all of your stuff and bolted out of the milkshake place as fast as an olympic athlete.

You weren’t dense. And despite those mistakes you had undoubtedly made during your first relationship, the insecurities and uncertainty each and every one of them had brought into your life, you could see the logic behind Mark’s reasoning. You could see the potential of the two of you becoming more than friends in the future regardless of your differences, because at the end of the day, he made you feel balance and peace.

However, your first-hand experience with misleading hints and mistaken bonds held you back from accepting his theory with open arms. For one, there could have been dozens of other people out there who had gotten single in that time frame he had mentioned. It didn’t matter to your brain that your tattoo had also changed after his fight with Haeri, which should have been suspicious. For two, you weren’t in love with Mark. Sure, you liked the guy, you might have gone as far as to say you felt connected to him on your good days, but was that enough to risk being tricked by destiny for a second time?

Your heart was still tender, and you told this much to Mark who reassured you that he hadn’t intended to come off that strong. He liked you as a person, and more than wanting to be your boyfriend, he wanted to be someone you felt comfortable around, so he was fine staying just your friend. A close friend, but a friend nevertheless.

His words gave you a reason to resist your urge to shut him out. Naturally, you needed a few days to respond to his triple texts and worried voice notes, but once you convinced yourself that meeting him face to face wouldn’t end up in a disaster, your friendship healed itself on its own.

So it didn’t feel rushed when after the new semester began, you started to spend more time in each other’s company than you had done so during your project regardless whether you were working on your schoolwork or enjoying your scarce free time. You justified your decision to meet-up with the boy regularly during your free periods by claiming that Mark brought the best study snacks to your study sessions out of everyone you had ever worked with. He was also a perfectionist, so he understood your need to finish your tasks in advance and never disturbed you when you were writing your assignments. He was… just right, in every sense of the word.

He fitted in your life so seamlessly, without taking you away from your family, Yuju or your other, less present friends, it was insane. Yet, whenever your heart tried to tear down the wall that you had deliberately built between the two of you, your mind hesitated.

It was too early. It was too soon.

And then, it was already time for the annual New Year’s party in your dorm. Time was such a weird, human-made construct.

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ You could hear Yuju’s concerned voice when you reached out for one of the shot glasses in the middle of the communal kitchen table, the amateurly mixed brandy-soda-coke combo promising nothing good after your second can of cheap beer. Most of the time, you weren’t a big drinker. Not to mention that you hadn’t been to any social gatherings since the semester kick off party way back in February, long before most students had learned your name around campus. However, this time, you had an acceptable reason to put your limits to the test.

After all, it hadn’t been ten minutes since your best friend had asked for your blessing as apparently, she and Dejun had gotten closer after your break-up in August and started to develop feelings for each other along the way. Obviously, Yuju had made sure you knew she would have turned down the guy if any possibility of them working out despite the odds had hurt you, but should your opinion have mattered that much?

Dejun and you had already been history. And while you appreciated Yuju’s thoughtfulness, it made you feel a tad troubled: that a part of her might have seriously considered it as an option that you wouldn’t have been able to put her happiness first.

That aside, you obviously weren’t unaffected by the revelation. You couldn’t put your finger on how they were so ready to give a try to a future together when their real soulmates were out there somewhere, completely unaware of their decision to settle down with someone else. With a person who shouldn’t have felt perfect, right or a complementary part of their life. How could Dejun - of ALL people - be so unafraid when you were terrified to let Mark in?

As another wave of realisation hit you in the face, and you once again learned something new about yourself and your feelings, you sent a bittersweet yet reassuring smile in your friend’s way and lifted your drink a little higher.

‘It’s the last day of the year. If I’m about to make mistakes, there’s no better time for it,’ you reasoned, finding it absolutely hilarious how uncharacteristic you sounded even to your own ears. ‘It’s not because of you guys, I promise, it’s not,’ you added, though, almost as an afterthought, because the concern in Yuju’s eyes didn’t seem to fade, and you didn’t want her to give up on a happy relationship due to something you had to deal with on your own.

It took Yuju an eye-killing staring contest to not question your sincerity, but she did give you a semi-convinced nod after she had lost, so you were able to join the group shot. You could even have a second round before she pointed at something behind your back and informed you that Mark Lee was clearly elbowing his way through the crowd to get to you.

Just the person you wanted to see! How did he even know on which floor you were when the dorm had six floors, each one of them filled with students partying for a different genre of music?

Your heart skipped a silly beat when your fuzzy mind came up with the idea that Mark Lee was going through floor after floor just to find you. Then, it sped up again as you imagined him knowing you well enough to be aware of where you would be hiding from him. (If you had been really hiding from him, which you obviously didn’t do and would have never admitted doing so, anyway.)

‘So it’s the 2000s’ Disney classics now, hah?’ He greeted you with a cheeky smile, his brown orbs twinkling with amusement and a pinch of mischief - two things you tried to shut out as much as possible. Dealing with his stupid grin was already challenging enough, you didn’t need more.

‘Everyone loves High School Musical,’ you retorted, although you both knew these kinds of songs weren’t high on your preference list. In fact, you could have been found listening to drama and anime OSTs sooner than any of these western classics.

Luckily, Mark was wise enough to not call you out on your bullshit for the second time under one minute.

‘Hey, Mark! Can you make sure she doesn’t drink too much, at least, not unsupervised? The second floor has, apparently, a few legendary ballads in their karaoke machine, and I want to get there before Dejun is up,’ Yuju explained before she turned towards you and cupped your cheeks with her hands. Your pout was genuine and sulky, not because she was about to check on her soon-to-be-boyfriend or because said boyfriend-to-be was your ex, but because she was about to ditch you and consequently leave you alone with your supposed-to-be soulmate. You whined as you held onto her sleeve. ‘I’ll be back in an hour. Be good,’ she reassured you right before she peeled your fingers off her clothes and left.

Your lips trembled in distress as your head fell forwards and your shoulders sagged.

You barely flinched when Mark’s palm tentatively touched your blade bone. In fact, the warm breath that accompanied his worried ‘Are you okay?’ had a lot more impact on you when he leaned closer to make sure you could hear him clearly.

As you slowly turned around to face him, you were wondering how it would have felt to just let yourself be and seek comfort in Mark’s closeness. Would he have found it weird if you had buried your face in the crook of his neck? Should you have gone for his chest instead, using it as a pillow and a safe haven?

Why were you still hesitating when you knew he was convinced the two of you were meant to be? Why couldn’t you admit that none of these questions were about him? They were all about you. It was you who couldn’t decide whether hugging him more intimately would have made you feel creeped out. It was you who had a hard time accepting that the only thing you had to do was giving it a try and you could have been more.

So, so much more.

‘Man, do you need some water? Are you about to throw up?’

You had no idea what kind of face you were making, but you must have looked horrible or in pain. Otherwise, Mark wouldn’t have been thinking in such extremes, wouldn’t he?

You pressed your lips together and shook your head. Yet, he gently led you to the sink in the communal kitchen and got you a glass of cool, filtered water just to be sure.

The two of you stood in front of the sink in silence for God knew how long. The songs came and went, some more upbeat than others, some blending into the conversations around you. You kept your gaze on the half-empty glass in your hand, unsure and a tad insecure about too many things to keep count of.

‘Yuju and Dejun like each other,’ you blurted out at the most random moment, without any sign or warning in advance. If anyone had asked - if Mark had asked -, you would have put the blame on those shots you had drunk not that long ago, and a part of you actually believed there was some truth to your excuse. Being tipsy weakened your filters, so the words came out more easily.

Your thoughts were out in the open.

‘I think they will be official soon. Boyfriend and girlfriend,’ you added when your rambling was met with no verbal reaction, then took a forced gulp from your water because it started to feel a little embarrassing: the lack of response, the one-sided conversation.

‘Does it bother you?’ Mark asked eventually, slowly taking the empty glass out of your hand, so he could refill it for you.

‘No… Yes… No, but…’ You were struggling to find the correct words, maybe because your head was a mess, and you were trying to explain everything all at once when it wasn’t that simple. Your thoughts on the situation were complicated since this piece of information was still new to you. You had barely had time to comprehend, let alone accept the drastic change in your best friend and your ex’s relationship.

Mark’s fingers were cold and wet when they sneaked around your wrist and pulled your hand closer. The movement, sharp but gentle, pulled you back to the present.

‘If you still—’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

You didn’t let him finish, cutting him off a bit too loudly, which gained a couple of students’ attention for a brisk moment. Cheeks hot and scarlet red, you felt relieved when you realised that your sudden silence and the overall upbeat atmosphere of the ongoing party made them move on from the awkward situation quite quickly.

You willed your lungs to take in some of the suffocating air while you simultaneously mustered up your courage to place your palm on Mark’s chest to keep him still physically as well. You needed him to listen to everything you wanted to say, otherwise, there was a chance he might have misunderstood the mess in your head that you yourself also had to detangle real time, during your all-over-the-place monologue.

‘Yes, their relationship bothers me, but…’ you started, digging your fingers into Mark’s chest a bit firmer. You bit into your right cheek from the inside quite harshly as you were fighting against your growing frustration. ‘The fact that they are happy together? I know that I can get over that.’

Maybe, it would take a few days. Maybe, it would feel weird to see them together the first couple of times, especially if they held hands or cuddled in front of you, but you were pretty confident this development wouldn’t have hurt your relationship with either of them. And Mark seemed to believe you if his encouraging, almost proud smile was anything to go by.

You nodded to yourself, satisfied with where this conversation was going.

You could do it. In that moment, with alcohol coursing through your veins and Mark Lee smiling down at you like you were invincible, you truly believed that you could accomplish anything.

‘Their relationship bothers me because… Because!’ You were almost there, you could feel the words on the tip of your tongue. ‘They see a future together despite knowing they weren’t meant for each other and… And…’ You gulped, desperate eyes boring deep into Mark’s. ‘And I’m too afraid to be with you and see our tattoos remain the same.’

There it was. 

It hadn’t been that hard, had it?

(It had been.)

You didn’t realise how much energy it had taken you to confess until you were over it and the lack of stress left you with nothing. For a second, you felt numb. Then, your shoulders fell forwards and all you could feel was the tiredness in your bones.

It was a long night - despite the clock still one and a half hours away from midnight - with a lot of interactions you weren’t quite used to. Your social battery could only do so much after dealing with Yuju and now… even with your own feelings for your possible other half.

‘It’s okay. We don’t have to put a label on us until you like me enough to not care even if our marks remain the same,’ Mark reassured you, petting your head like you were some child, although you had to admit that it did feel nice. So you closed your eyes to be able to enjoy it more - with one sense being shut down, the others like touch were bound to get heightened, you supposed -, the goofy smile on your face a clear indication that you were more than just tipsy at that point. ‘Do you wanna go back to your room? I can get Haechan to buy us some ice cream or something,’ the boy offered, making you giggle for no goddamn reason. Still, it was funny, picturing him begging his friend to get you something sweet from 7-eleven when he must have been also partying somewhere in the building.

‘I have potato chips under the bed,’ you announced, willingly tailing Mark after he took your words as an okay sign and started to pull you towards the hallway.

Much to your surprise, the music remained just as overpowering until you reached the third or fourth room, however, Yuju and you lived at the end of the corridor, near the communal shower area, so it was all dandy. Once you were behind closed doors, the party turned into literal background noise.

‘So…’ Mark started, and on any other day, you might have been able to sense his uncertainty about how to act nonchalant in a room where it was only the two of you, but at that moment, all you could concentrate on was how good it felt: the relative silence after people screaming around you for hours while pretending to be singing.

You sat down on the edge of your bed and laid back with a relieved sigh. The mattress was so damn comfortable, you knew it wouldn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

And you might have just blacked out for a second after that thought had hit you, because the next thing you were aware of was a pair of calloused fingertips grazing along your temple. A feather-light weight on your entire body. Someone apologising for the jeans you would need to sleep in and then…

Then, a pair of pillowy lips, chapped and unexpectedly soft, touched the top of your head.

Albeit shocked, you didn’t find the power in you to re-open your eyes.

The next day, you woke up with a massive headache and a sore body that you wholeheartedly blamed on those jeans you were still wearing as though you hadn’t been completely yourself when you had gotten ready for bed.

You couldn’t recall much after Yuju had left you alone with Mark. At least, not until you fell back on your sheets and the phantom caress of two firm, hardworking fingers punched you in the guts.

Shit! You had fallen asleep while Mark had been still in your room. It had been his first time in your safe space and you had blacked out before you could have given him a tour or… Had he tried to talk to you? Had you managed to completely ignore his existence? Ahgrr. He must have felt so uncomfortable.

A mild panic attack started to brew in the pits of your stomach. Consequently, your carnal need to check up on the boy and confirm that nothing had changed between the two of you pushed the symptoms of your hangover in the back of your mind. Like you had never been in physical pain.

You jumped out of bed as quickly as if someone had set the whole furniture on fire. Your eyes were loitering over your interior rapidly, searching for your phone since you honest to God couldn’t have told where you had put it the previous night. Knowing yourself, it could have been anywhere from the back pocket of your jeans to the dusty floor under your desk, hence you proceeded with an open mind.

Just to find it on the pillow you hadn’t even used, plugged into your charger. The thoughtful sight dressed your cheeks in a light shade of coral pink.

Tentatively, you laid back on the sheets and took the slightly warm device in your hands. You used your fingerprint to unlock the phone, then opened your kakao app, because reading only the notifications would have been useless with the amount of unread messages you had.

Your thumb was hovering over the latest text you had received, Mark’s full name greeting you with a guitar and a nerd emoji next to it, but then your gaze fell on your chat with your best friend, and you decided to be more reasonable. Sure, the fact that she clearly wasn’t in your shared room despite her inability to reach you must have meant that she knew you were okay, but still… It was only fair you put her first.

It didn’t matter that you were more curious about those five messages Mark had apparently sent you. 

It also didn’t matter that the sole reason you hadn’t fallen back asleep was your eagerness to clear up any possible misunderstandings with the boy: like him interpreting your behaviour last night as if you couldn’t have cared less about him.

You cared so much about him.

(Too much, maybe. You just sucked at expressing it and were a coward who couldn’t admit these kinds of things even to herself.)

Your smile was brilliant when you skimmed through Yuju’s messages and noticed the visible change in her tone once she had gotten to know that albeit wasted, you were well taken care of. She said Mark had called her as soon as he had tucked you in - his words, not hers -, then reminded you of the first aid kit in her lowest drawer where you could find painkillers in case you were struggling. She also lectured you about drinking too much alcohol, but it was hard to take her words to heart when she wished you a happy new year and promised you to bring home some chicken trio pizza for dinner on her way home.

You sent her a selfie with your thumb up and reassured her that she didn’t have to rush. You could take care of yourself just fine - and you didn’t have any groundbreaking plans for the first day of the year anyway. To be honest, you doubted you would even leave the safety of your room for more than occasional toilet breaks.

Your lazy plans immediately got cancelled, though, when you opened Mark’s messages and saw that he had invited you out for a brunch slash lunch, depending on when you woke up or which one you were more up to.

You didn’t realise how ravenous you were until your eyes fell on the photo he had sent you of the sunny side ups that he had made for breakfast, offering to cook something simple for you in the communal kitchen in case you didn’t feel like going out. (And while you appreciated the thought and were genuinely tempted to spend the whole day on your bed with him, you couldn’t have helped but remember his friends’ teasing, which heavily indicated that he was a horrible cook.)

You asked for an hour to put yourself together and let him decide where you would eat until the restaurant wouldn’t be too crowded and the food wouldn’t be too heavy on your sensitive stomach. Your hangover was no joke. Just thinking of your favourite pizza, you already felt like throwing up again.

Had you even thrown up the previous night? For the life of you, you couldn’t tell.

But it didn’t really matter. Because the moment you stepped outside of your room, you came face to face with Mark Lee, and he gave you that look: the look that said he was happy to see you and might have even thought you were pretty despite the oversized hoodie and leggings combo you were wearing, hair in a messy bun on the top of your head. There was no way he felt grossed out by the sight of you even though he had been the last person who had seen you last night.

You gave him a small, almost bashful smile.

The diner Mark chose was a noodle soup shop near campus that you had never tried before, but you trusted his taste and did not get disappointed when the middle aged ahjumma placed two steaming bowls on your table in the back. The smell was rich, but not overpowering. The taste… The taste was heavenly.

‘Last night was pretty wild, hah? I usually don’t drink that much, by the way. You can take my words on that,’ you stirred up a conversation as soon as the boy’s eyes on each and every movement of yours started to get a tad overwhelming. Not in a bad way, of course. You rarely felt any negative emotions when you were with him; you considered thinking about the boy when he wasn’t around a completely different thing. And even then it was more about your insecurities and fears, never about something he did intentionally.

Gosh, here you were again, casually overthinking like it was your hobby.

‘Were you drinking because of me?’

You froze with your hand in mid-air, noodles slipping through your chopsticks as your grip got weaker due to your shock. The broth splashed on your face the moment they hit the soup, the hot liquid burning your skin a little, though that wasn’t the real reason your cheeks put on a light, pinkish shade.

You hadn’t seen it coming: the almost confrontational turn your conversation had just taken when it was Mark sitting in front of you. It would have been different if it had been Yuju or Mark’s talkative (and lowkey annoying nosy) friend, but… It was Mark!

You were lucky, you hadn’t choked on your meal.

‘I…’ You cleared your throat, unintentionally making the atmosphere heavier. You couldn’t look Mark in the eyes. ‘Maybe?’ You half-admitted as you placed the chopsticks on the edge of your bowl and dropped your hands in your lap with a helpless sigh. You didn’t want to lie. You also didn’t want to talk about your feelings without proper preparation, but clearly, your life wasn’t a wish-granting factory. ‘I also took some shots to celebrate the New Year.’

Mark’s amused giggle was yet another unexpected slap in the face. However, you welcomed it like a caress as it encouraged you to meet his eyes. His happiness didn’t help much with your confusion, but it warmed your heart, so you let it be.

‘Cute,’ he complimented you as soon as he calmed down, his gaze shifting from your scarlet cheeks to your abandoned, wooden cutlery. You knew he wanted to encourage you to pick the chopsticks up again, but you weren’t so sure whether that would have been a good idea. You weren’t in the clear just yet.

In fact, your conversation might have been just about to get tougher if his mischievous eyes were anything to go by.

‘I’m not sure how much you remember from last night, but I understand your feelings. It’s scary for me, too,’ he said with enough nonchalance to make you wonder whether he was panicking under the collected facade. The Mark you knew would have rather let his friends bully him (affectionately) than engage in a fight. He had never been this confrontational, and you weren’t sure how you felt about this development.

Unsure whether he was finished or there was still stuff he wanted to bring up, you remained silent and mentally scolded yourself for even thinking about picking on the skin around the base of your nails.

‘I want, more than anything, to test if you’re it for me, but that’s not why I wanted to meet up with you,’ he eventually blurted out before he took a big mouthful of his noodles, probably to steal a bit more time. You waited, patiently. ‘Please don’t push me away. You don’t have to like me like that. You don’t have to agree to become my girlfriend like ever, man. But please, don’t avoid me.’

His pleading broke something in you, not because of how desperately he was talking or how he felt the need to have this request, but because this had been what you had tried to do the night before, when Yuju had pointed him out in the crowd.

He knew you. He knew your instincts were working against you two, and he was begging you to stay.

To choose him, in whichever way your heart was able to handle your relationship.

‘I’m not gonna do any of those, I promise,’ you mumbled, hoping that you could keep your promise to him, because he was being so tolerant, so patient with you, it was the least you could do.

Just like Dejun, Mark deserved so much better.

But unlike your ex-boyfriend, his presence in your life felt so effortless, so good, a part of you could almost believe that the two of you were…

You bit into your lower lip and shook your head. This wasn’t right. You shouldn’t have given him a chance because of a system that had already screwed you over. Because a sick part of your brain rationalised that the universe knew you better than you knew yourself.

‘I want to give us a try,’ you admitted slowly, choosing your words with utmost care as if one wrongly chosen synonym could have broken your friendship. Like you were still working on one of your most draining assignments for a professor that took points from you for using the same word in two consecutive sentences. ‘But I have one condition.’

Mark didn’t take his eyes off you. He wasn’t blinking, and you weren’t sure he was breathing properly, either, but his complexion looked convincing enough for you to keep going instead of stalling and checking up on him.

‘I don’t want to be your girlfriend.’ The pained look in Mark’s eyes squeezed your organs, and if you had felt a bit more poetic, you would have said, it twisted the knife in your heart, too. So you willed yourself to push through. ‘What I mean is that… I want what Dejun and Yuju have. And since we don’t know whether we are meant to be like how they already know they aren’t… I…’ you were clearly struggling at that point, but you were almost there.

You almost detangled the mess in your own head.

You almost managed to communicate your concerns.

You only needed a little bit more.

‘You want to be with me regardless?’ Mark asked, sounding hopeful and something else, too, something akin to melted butter on your toast.

You nodded, embarrassingly eager to get to the end of this topic and finally be on the same page as the boy.

‘If we don’t agree on being boyfriend-girlfriend, our tattoos won’t change. They’re not gonna spoil it,’ you argued, feeling significantly lighter after the last word fell from your lips, your smile bright and a lot wider than it had been at any moment in the past few days.

And the best part?

Mark Lee was shining like the damned Sun and all the stars in the sky upon hearing your confession. 

‘I can do that! Let’s do that! I want that, to have a chance with you, be with you. Because it does feel right. You. Us. You make me feel all gooey and boom boom inside. You make me feel like all those cringey love songs that secretly everyone likes,’ he rambled, awakening half a dozen long-dead butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

You wondered if this was how falling in love should have felt in the first place. Weren’t you only giving him a chance to see where this would lead the two of you? Were you really, truly, genuinely falling for him already?

Were you in love?

As good as you were with words in most cases, Mark’s rambling quite literally rendered you speechless. You didn’t know what more you were supposed to say without revealing your inner turmoil. After all, you had already admitted that you wanted to give it a try.

If you had been one of your characters, you would have described what you were about to do as cowardly, but at that moment it sounded rather logical (and definitely convenient) to just pick up your chopsticks and dive into your noodle soup. So that was what you did, keeping your eyes on your food while blaming your flaming cheeks on your hot lunch.

You didn’t entertain the topic more than it was strictly necessary, and you didn’t bring it up again when Mark took pity on you and decided to ask about something completely different yet maybe just as important: your plans for after your graduation ceremony next week.

Sadly, you were still struggling with finding a full-time job, but your parents were happy to have you back at home, so at least, you didn’t have to worry about housing or wasting money. You would be fed three times a day for free and have all the time in the world to find out how desperate you were to find a job in your field a.k.a. how much longer you could go without giving in and just taking the first offer that came your way.

‘I don’t want to lower my standards just yet. Maybe… after a month or two,’ you pondered aloud, then took a bigger slurp of your soup just before you asked for Mark’s opinion.

You didn’t call your lunch a date, nor did Mark ask you out on one when he suggested you watched a movie in the cinema on Saturday, but he did walk you all the way back to your door once he paid for the food and held onto your clammy hand during the second half of the elevator ride.

Hence, you assumed you were official. In your own, cautious albeit determined way.

the end.

[mialander]

loving me is all you need

summary: You’ve been extremely stressed the past few weeks.

Homelander figures the two of you could use a vacation.

warnings: 18+, dubcon, kidnapping, obsessive behavior, love bombing, implied drugging, age gap, fem reader

wc: 1.3k

author’s note: lol i wrote this near the beginning of last semester because uni had me stressed and rich powerful evil deranged man in love with me and kidnapping me to take care of me is peak comfort fantasy to me 🥰

Homelander sat on the bed next to you, stroking your hair as he grinned down at your sleeping form. With how much you drank last night, you should be out for a few more minutes.

He was so excited for you to wake up and see where you were! You had been complaining about being overworked (his poor sweetheart, you didn’t deserve to be stressed ever) the past few weeks and how you just desperately wished for a break. To have some peace and quiet.

Homelander (being the amazing and loving boyfriend that he was) had offered to take you away to anywhere you wanted. The beach or the mountains, Italy or Greece, or any other place on Earth that you wanted. All you had to do was say the word. But you being you just smiled and shook your head, telling him you were fine. He could see right through you, though. No matter how much you might seem dedicated to your silly, time-consuming tasks away from him, he knew you didn’t actually want to live your life that way. Why would anyone want to - especially when they had him?

So, logically, he took your rejections of his ideas to get away as you just being shy. You had no reason to be so shy around him, but he supposed it made sense since you were quite younger than him. He found it so cute and endearing.

A problem he had also realized was that all the places he had suggested would be surrounded by other people. No wonder you didn’t want to go. So, he had Vought secure a cabin for the two of you, away from the rest of the world. That’s much better. The people at Vought were at least smart enough to understand him when he said he didn’t want the two of you to be disturbed. The obviously fake smile as his eyes flashed red leaving no question to what would happen if someone tried to bother him and his beloved on their little getaway.

No other people. No distractions. Just you and him. Perfect.

His attention was fully on you when you shifted and he heard you groan. His eyes lit up then softened as you slowly blinked your own open.

“Mmm… John?” you asked, rubbing your aching head before trying to sit up.

You took a moment to gather yourself, trying to remember the previous night. All you could remember was having a bit of alcohol, but surely it wasn’t enough to cause you to be as hung over as you currently felt? You looked around the room, it being cozy, but unfamiliar. Not Homelander’s penthouse or your shaggy little place. The bed was beyond comfortable and when you looked down you saw the sheets and covers were a shade of your favorite color.

“Umm…babe? Where are we…?” you asked, grabbing Homelander’s wrist to stop his hand trailing along your sides.

“Surprise!” he grinned like a kid getting exactly what he wanted on Christmas, placing a quick kiss on your cheek, and then resting his chin on your shoulder as he hugged you close and tightly, “I know that you’ve been stressed with your work or studies or whatever the fuck else lately, soooo I wanted to give you a break from it all.”

His smile stayed on his lips as stared at you, waiting for you to show some sort of excitement about being trapped out here alone with him.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he practically pouted when you weren’t giving him the reaction he wanted, pulling you even closer to him, “you’ve been saying for weeks that you just want a break for it all! I’m just giving you what you want.”

“John,” you sighed and shook your head, “wanting and actually doing something are two different things. I can't just walk away and take a vacation whenever I want without warning!”

You instinctively reach for your phone where it would usually be on the nightstand, already trying to come up with a list of people you would have to message, only to find it’s not there. You frown.

“…John, where’s my phone?”

“Not here,” he replied vaguely as you tried to squirm out of his arms to no avail, “you don’t need it. We’re here to relax, remember? No outside world.”

“You expect me to relax when I don't have my phone in reach?”

While half meant as a joke, it was starting to freak you out that there was seemingly no way to contact anyone else.

He chuckled, dragging you along with him as he laid down, forcing your head to rest against his chest. “Darling, you have me and I have you. That’s all we really need, hmm?” He rubbed circles onto your back.

He frowned a little when your heart beat started to pick up. Not from excitement, but… fear? Oh no, that wouldn’t do.

“Calm down,” he said, his voice coming out slightly more demanding than he had intended. “You don’t have to worry about anything again, alright? I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

“What… what do you mean by that?” You ask, fearing the answer.

“I mean,” he tilted your chin up to get you to look him in the eyes, “you don’t have to worry about anything outside this cabin. It’s just you and me. Think of it as like… an indefinite vacation, yeah?”

He gave you a charming smile that under any other circumstance would have you melting underneath him.

“J-john… sweetheart. As … wonderful… as that sounds I can’t… we can’t just abandon everything else like this!” you argued, though you sounded desperate, “I have a life! Friends and family! You… you’re literally the leader of the Seven! We-“

“Oh, come on. It’s not like the world is going to burn without us,” he scoffed, then softened up, looking at you with nothing but pure adoration in his blue eyes, “besides, even if it did, who gives a fuck? As long as we have each other, we’ll be fine. Right, sweetheart?”

You stared at him in disbelief, lips slightly parted. He couldn’t be serious about this. While it sounded nice in theory, surely running away from all your responsibilities and the rest of the world was not this easy doable thing he was making it out to be. For God’s sake, he was The Homelander! Vought wouldn’t let him just leave to have some extended vacation time with his girlfriend for too long.

Homelander sighed as you didn’t show any signs of calming down soon. It’s alright, you’re just confused, he reasoned with himself. You just needed a little time. He could be patient.

But… a little incentive wouldn’t hurt.

In one swift motion, he flipped the two of you so that you were laying on your back and he was hovering over you. He licked his lips as he took in your body beneath him. So beautiful… and all his.

“John-“

He silenced you with a kiss to your lips, one hand resting next to your head and the other one running gently along your side.

He pulled back only to allow you to take a breath. He went on to kiss your cheeks, jaw, and along your neck, ignoring any protests you might have made. He lovingly murmured your name as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“My sweet girl…”

His hand that had been on your side slowly pulled up the nightgown he had dressed you in the night before, his knuckles brushing against your clit teasingly. You gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders. You opened your mouth to say something, but he shushed you gently, placing his other hand on your throat. He didn’t squeeze, but its presence was enough to make you listen to him.

“Shh… just let me take care of you. Alright?”

You nodded, eyes wide.

“There’s my good girl,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He moved down your body, pushing your nightgown up past your hips as he properly settled himself between your legs. Your breathing picked up a bit as you watched him, eyes never leaving him.

He lowered himself down, pressing a few open-mouthed kisses to both your thighs before going to where he really wanted to.

A whimper escaped your lips as his tongue ran along your wet folds, the act almost seeming reverent. He grasped your hips with both his hands to keep you from moving too much as he moved up to your clit, flicking his tongue on it. His hands shook from just how gentle he was being. He wanted to let himself lose control, to devour you, but he restrained himself for your sake. He was too scared (much as he loathed the word) of hurting you. Just the tiniest bit of putting too much pressure on your hips could fracture them.

“F-fuck, John…” you whined and closed your eyes, one of your hands reaching to tangle itself in his hair which got a moan out of him. “Oh, God…”

While he knew that you weren’t actually calling him God, his ego could let him pretend that you were. It was an arousing image; him, a God, pampering you, his favorite and most devoted little worshipper. Just the two of you, here in this little paradise he had made to away all the troubles of the world. Nothing else mattered. Only you and him.

He growled lowly, his tongue lapping faster at your clit. Your back arches slightly off the bed, so desperate for him. His fingers twitched against your hips.

He teased you for a few minutes, wanting to hear the sweet, little sounds you made, while also making sure you felt good. Showing you how good being out here with him would be. He could bring you nothing but ecstasy and bliss everyday for the rest of your lives.

“John-!” you cried needily, “please…”

“‘Please’ what, sweetheart?” he pulled back to ask, chuckling a little when you whined at the absence of his mouth on you.

“Please let me come…” you relented shakily, tugging on his hair.

“Good girl,” he praised, immediately going back to running his tongue along your clit. “Come on, sweetheart. Come for me…”

That was all the prompting you needed. You came on his tongue and he eagerly licked it all up like a man starved, not wasting a single drop.

“You taste absolutely divine, darling,” he murmured as he licked his lips, as he moved back up onto his knees. You were panting beneath him and fuck was it one of the most gorgeous sights he had ever seen.

After taking another moment to admire you, he moved to lay back down next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. He gave your lips a quick kiss, then pressed his forehead against yours, looking at you with a mixture of adoration and obsession.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he mumbled, kissing you again, “you feel good, don’t you?”

You nodded, looking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. He smiled.

“Good… good,” he brought his hand up to your face, stroking it gently, “that’s all I want. For you to feel good. With me. Nobody else could ever make you feel this way. You get why I brought you here now, right? So that I can take care of you.”

He searched your face intensely, looking for any hint of understanding.

“Y-yeah,” you swallowed and cleared your throat, “yes, John. I-I get it… thank you.”

His mind didn’t register how anxious or forced your words sounded. Either that or he just willingly ignored it. He just smiled lovingly at you and hugged you close.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, nuzzling against you, “my good girl.” He kissed your forehead, “just get some more rest, okay, sweetheart? Take all the time you need. It’s not like you have anything you have to do anytime soon.”

He laughed a little and while he probably meant those words more romantically, it just made you feel even more trapped in his loving, but suffocating embrace. You nodded, resting against his chest. He hummed happily and played with your hair.

You closed your eyes as he murmured sweet words to you. Maybe after a week or two in your secluded new home, he’d realize how ridiculous it was thinking the two of you could just hide away from the rest of the world for the rest of your lives without any cares or worries. But for now…

Maybe you could let yourself enjoy it.

[khorneschosen]

Actually they started with it.

When you understand that behind every single one of the socialistic movements is at its core a demand for you to reject your own ability to understand the world around you or that in a world even exists to be observed. The very moment you understand that the entire practice of all of these ideologies is a result of a philosophical failure.

This all started when one philosopher said that reason was limited. Then another one came along and said that reality is contradictory.

And it has only gotten worse since then.

I want to understand a study dedicated to understanding truth on a fundamental level said at one point there is no truth and that has led us to where we are today.

And you know why all of this happened. Because the enlightenment couldn't unravel its own contradictions and errors. Truth couldn't prove itself objectively so an incomplete truth was discarded for the sake of a completed evil.

It's like if you went back a thousand years ago and wanted to disprove the theory that the song revolves around the Earth. The answer you would have given would have been a complete and total system whereas yours would have a lot to explain for. Because even wrong systems have logical proofs for them. They may not be good proofs They might even have irrational cores to them but they will be complete and they will explain fully the phenomenon witnessed.

And this is the reason why communist have had so much success over the last century. Not because they actually have a decent argument or a decent philosophy. They have a very flawed philosophy. But that philosophy exists in a vacuum compared to the incomplete truths that came first.

And those incomplete truths by the way are the only thing people are actually interested in. They aren't interested in new philosophy They are only interested in the old so a person comes along and solves the problem is not valued to them.

[beevean]

Oh yeah, sort of an addition to the previous ask:

The fact that when it's revealed to the other characters that the Phantom Rider was Sonic all along, literally everyone is able to easily catch on to the fact that this is a blatant indicator that Clean Sweep is running some sussy operations people don't know about and that there's something underlying the bigger picture... except for Lanolin, for some reason.

When characters like Jewel (who's spent the least amount of total screentime with "Duo", and yet, immediately knew he was acting sus)...

... and even Storm (a character that is literally stated to be lacking in smarts)...

... are able to put two and two together in something so obvious faster than you can, you don't qualify in the slightest to be any kind of leader.

See, that's the thing

Everyone makes the logical assumption that if Sonic is doing something, he must have good reasons for it. Even the Rogues, who are not exactly on best terms with Sonic, know him enough to not think badly of him.

Lanolin, instead, flips her entire shit and declares Sonic to be a criminal who needs to face justice.

"This is important!" she bleats, while this is happening:

This is not logical behavior. This is proof that even in-universe, Lanolin is beyond incompetent and pigheaded. She doesn't seem to understand the context she is in, and operates on a childish "person who breaks rules is bad and needs to be punished" mindset, not caring that said person is Sonic the Fucking Hedgehog - I get not wanting to give preferential treatment, but you asshole, this is the same person who supposedly inspired you to become a more heroic person, and you won't even give him the benefit of the doubt?

Notice also that what makes her flip is not the reveal that Sonic was the PR, but that her besties - the same besties that she terrorized into submission, including, and I can't stress this enough, assaulting one of them - lied to her. It's not about Sonic being a criminal. It's about not being in control of the situation :) it's about not being trusted as the leader that should be unquestionably obeyed :)

Makes the fact that she somehow forgot that innocents are going to fucking die in an explosion, and she has to be reminded by Sonic himself that there are more pressing issues, even worse, doesn't it? Screw those lives! Her authority got undermined! She needs to punish a hero to feel better about herself!

Lanolin being flawed is not bad writing. To be fair, she is shown to be in the wrong and in the minority. The bad writing part comes in how everyone, while having the bare minimum of reaction, keeps showing her infinite patience. Why is Tangle so concerned with her? Why does she keep pleading her? Why is Lanolin considered a friend to forgive, when she has done nothing but hurting them?

Lanolin is treated like a slightly flawed character who we're meant to find complex and fascinating. I can see that. What the story doesn't see is that they've written a dictator and a bully with no redeeming qualities (and no, good intentions aren't enough) who should be kept as far away from the Restoration as possible at this point.

[superbellsubways]

10 days into pride month i am so sick of seeing biphobia everywhere imgonna throw up all my insides SHUT UPPPPP SHUT UUUUP i hate everyone forever

[choccy-milky]

oh boy anon, you’ve activated my trap card. GET READY FOR A SEBASTIAN CHARACTER ANALYSIS ESSAY BELOW LMAO

ok so first off I know im obvs biased, but I don’t actually think my seb is that ooc, AND PUT DOWN YOUR PITCHFORKS IMMA EXPLAIN WHY. but im also gonna explain why I don’t think the other more friendly and lighthearted renditions of seb are ooc either. bc theres so many aspects of seb we get in the game that can be interpreted in so many diff ways, and so this is how i see it/landed on MY rendition of seb:

PROTECTIVENESS/POSSESSIVENESS: this is one of the main aspects of him, imo. his entire questline is about wanting to cure anne, and how he’s not giving up, and how he believes that HE is the only one that can do it, because “she’s MY sister!” seb is super tunnel visioned and has a one-track mind when it comes to this, and I headcanon that he’s this way because of their parents deaths. he’s the brother, the boy, he’s gotta be strong for his sister, and ofc when their parents died, he tries to comfort her and be there for her/be the rock, and it happens again when she’s sick. shes his sister, his responsibility, and he’ll die before he gives up on her and her safety.

SO, I just transfer all those aspects over to a romantic relationship instead. you just replace “shes my sister” with simply, “she’s mine/my gf/my wife/etc.” and in the same way I think seb tries to be strong and reliable and protect anne because he’s the brother, I think seb would be the same way in a relationship, because he’s a boy and she’s a girl and its 1890 and he’s chivalrous and he just sees it as his responsibility. I think the death of his parents and his dynamic with anne has baked this sort of mindset into him, and its even MORE intense in a romantic aspect, because then hormones and puberty and sexual tension and attraction is involved (plus the fact that seb in my fic is 17, so he’s older and has even stronger raging hormones and testosterone LOL.

JEALOUSY: who can forget the lines “between the two of you, I’m starting to feel left out” and “ominis simply needs a moment with you and he’ll change his mind. is that it?” the first one is more playful but I feel like the second one really showcases sebs brand of jealousy, and how biting and uncharitable it can be.

AGGRESSION/VIOLENCE: yet another iconic line with: “fine. but ominis knows, I won’t step back from a fight.” LIKE... the fact that apparently ominis knows this means its come up more than once…and im not saying seb is some unruly aggressor who flies off the handle at anything, but he defs has a capacity and is willing to get violent if HE believes the situation calls for it—basically the same way he feels about the dark arts. he felt justified using imperio to protect anne, and taking the relic to save anne, and so he would have fought ominis to get out of the catacomb. and with MY seb, while he doesn’t go picking fights with any boy who looks or gets close to clora, he’ll definitely be willing to beat up or lay hands on a creep who bothers clora/who is in the process of bothering her LOL.

SO YEAH, that’s pretty much it, and I’ll be the first to admit I definitely ramp up these traits further because he’s older in my fic and i think these traits would only get more intensified with age + being in love and also bc IM A TWILIGHT GIRLIE!!! what can I say. there are so many moments in my fic where you can just replace seb with edward and it wouldn’t seem out of place tbh LMAOO so blame twilight, it was a formative experience for me BAHAHA

BUT like I ALSO said, I don’t think peoples more lighthearted interpretations of seb are ooc either. because even all my earlier above examples, you can just focus on diff aspects of them. like his tunnel vision and obsession to cure anne? instead of seeing it as over the top protective and possessive, you can just view it in a more wholesome determined selfless sort of way. like I said we got so many nice little bits and ingredients of his personality that we can turn into anything we want, really👌just pick which flavour of seb u like best and use what we got in game to create it HAHA

AW TYY QUEEN BAHAHA💖 and aw im always so honoured when ppl tell me they consider my stuff canon that’s like the best compliment I can get, tysm 😭 and im glad you like my fic and art so much (enough for your friends and family to unfortunately know💀 LMAOO)

im adding your ask to this because it kinda ties into my seb essay. LETS GET INTO WHY A SWEET BABY ANGEL WOULD LIKE SOMEONE LIKE SEB. the answer ISSS: the same reason WE’RE also all into him I guess?? BAHHA

ok but to start off im gonna defend my seb, not only cause of what you said anon (i dont want you to feel like this is targeted to you!) but also bc I got an ask recently asking me to summarize seb and clora’s relationship since all they see from my art is that “they fuck and seb is possessive” LMAO, and I feel like ppl who JUST see my art and don’t read my fic have a warped image of my seb.

this may be shocking but I don’t consider my seb a red flag LMAO. I joke about how hes more of a pink flag tbh, but even THAT i dont even really believe, and don’t even consider him overly possessive. like yes he keeps an eye on her when shes hanging around other boys, but I feel like that’s normal (esp for 1890) and all of his most possessive moments have been when theres been a threat to cloras life/coming from a place of love and protection (especially since clora is so self-sacrificial, she’d have killed herself by now if not for seb LOL) so to me id actually put Sebastian as being PROTECTIVE as his first and foremost trait, followed by the possessiveness.

and yeah he gets jealous, but unless a dude is actively trying to get with her/hitting on her/harassing her, he’ll otherwise just kinda be unhappy about it/let it play out/ watch on unhappily LOL. and even when lawley was blackmailing clora and getting in between her and sebs relationship and lying about how close he and clora were, seb demanded answers from CLORA on what was happening between the two of them, but he didn’t touch lawley or tell him to stay away. bc seb thought that was what clora wanted, so he let her drift away. if he was TRULY a red flag, in this instance he would have just beat up lawley for taking what was "his"/not allow clora to leave him/immediately go to lawley instead of clora, and tell him to stay away despite what clora might want. (and clora even WISHED seb had interfered and done this. she was like 'why is he letting me drift away and go off with lawley i WANT him to fight for me...but she couldn't actually say anything thanks to the blackmail)

clora doesn’t just 'put up' with sebs more possessive and protective behaviour though, she actually likes it HAHA. just bc shes a precious baby angel, we all like a bad boy, even back then. just look at jane eyre, and how popular the dark and brooding and assholey mr. rochester was.

she tells seb at one point that she likes those things about him, even his immature competitive side, and his darker sides, and that he shouldn’t try to hide them or change himself because she accepts them. and even putting aside all of the stuff they’ve been through together that has bonded them (like the main canon quests + annes curse and then CLORA being cursed, and then clora being kidnapped and seb saving her) clora thought seb was roguish and charming and witty and intelligent and good looking from day 1. add to the fact that he’s just so devoted to her in everything he does, that even if he CAN get a bit overbearing at times, how could you NOT fall for someone like that😩 someone whose possessive behavior just stems from wanting to protect you and love you and want to keep you safe and cherish you like DAMN…. GET ME A SEB, TOO. WHERES MINE!!!😭😭

clora also realizes in ch 32 WHY seb is so protective of her (the trauma with his parents and wanting to be there for anne) and that she accepts it, and enjoys it, and that she might even MISS it if seb were to ever get less protective of her/might get lonely LOL, and then sebs like "i’ve "spoiled you, have i?"

so YEAH I don’t think sebs protectiveness and possessiveness goes into any toxic territory or red flag territory PERSONALLY (and the time that it DID get toxic was because of the relic, and clora DID put her foot down)

but my normal seb? whose dream in life is to whisk clora away into a tower and lock her up to keep her safe and keep her all to himself, but that he’d never ACTUALLY do because he knows its insane and unreasonable but jokes about wanting to do it anyway bc he would if clora agreed? clora finds that endearing and cute and is touched by how much he loves her and wants to keep her safe.

IN CLOSING: I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOUR AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

[deservedgrace]

The lack of understanding and empathy for cult survivors is really alienating. Because the same people that (rightfully) get upset hearing domestic violence jokes or rape jokes will make jokes about starting a cult.

[dykedvonte]

love seeing your takes on mouthwashing and how sane they are. everything's so black or white. I like how you acknowledge curlys abuse under jimmy (which I honestly didn't quite notice when I first watched a playthrough. should rewatch w this in mind) and how that very much doesn't "forgive" his inaction towards Anya and Her abuse under jimmy. I think what happens to him despite all his issues (bc he clearly wasn't OK 😊✌🏼) is very much karmic. I really did hurt huh

I hate the take that what happened to him is karmic as becoming disabled and being tortured is like not in any way an equal consequence for not taking more action against Jimmy. It is a consequence as is the whole game for everyone but it’s one that is very much established as being undeserved and extreme as everyone else’s but Jimmy’s fate.

Thank you for liking my takes but I also try to point out that this exact sort of framing of the events and what happened to Curly is bad especially if you are gonna factor in his own abuse into the equation of his inaction/ineffective acts. It’s like “saying yeah he deserved the abuse he was already going through to escalate because he didn’t do enough” which is like not a message the game tries to deliver at all. It’s like the game shows that abusers escalate

Karma and punishment are not concepts that I think should be directly tied to Curly’s fate especially since during the game and even in discussion he takes on too many consequences of someone else’s actions. Like this framing is the direct thing I describe taking the discussion away from Jimmy, P.E and the factors that created the environment in the first place.

[nonstandardrepertoire]

as a Jewish transsexual, the Jewish ethno-nationalist¹ sales pitch has always left me cold.² over and over again, i've heard people plugging the State of Israel offer some form of the following: "history teaches that we can never fully trust non-Jews with political power to protect Jews; the only way to make sure Jewish people are always safe is to create and maintain a state where Jewish people have the political power, so we can look out for ourselves"

but the thing is, the worst transphobic harassment i've experienced in my life has come from Jews. i don't think this says anything about the relative transphobia of Jews vs non-Jews, anymore than the fact that most of my birthday presents come from New Yorkers says anything about the relative generosity of Californians, but still. the people who followed me out of the subway filming me while yelling transphobic abuse were Jewish. two of the most relentless boosters of the current wave of transphobia in the US — Ben Shapiro and Chaya Raichik — are Jewish. i should be safe in a state run by such people?

and the obvious response is to say that, well, this is about keeping me safe as a Jew, not necessarily as an anything else. it's a bulwark against anti-Jewish violence, not every other -ism under the sun.³ but the thing is, i'm not a potato-head person. you can't just snap off the trans part of me and the Jewish part of me and say the latter part is safe even when the first isn't. i'm 100% Jewish and 100% trans; if i'm not safe as a transsexual, i'm not safe as a Jew. and if i'm going to be having to fight transphobia anyway, what difference does it make if the people passing bills stripping my rights are Jews or not?⁴

if you really lean into the logic at play here — "no one outside a vulnerable demographic can be trusted to care about people in that demographic" — it's easy to wind up in absurdity. because if i can't trust goyim to have my back as a Jew and also can't trust cis people to have my back as a transsexual, perhaps i need a state run by and for Jewish transsexuals. but wait! white Jewish transsexuals are certainly regularly horrible to, eg, Black Jewish transsexuals, so we probably shouldn't be in the same state together, to say nothing of separating out the poor, the disabled, those without college degrees . . . and before you know it, you're committed to the idea that the only just world is one where we're each a state unto ourselves, perfectly safe in absolute isolation from one another — no society, no coming together across difference to lighten the burden of living, just infinite atomization, the perfect unending unwinnable war of all against all

and this, i think, reveals the fundamental futility of the project. as a transsexual, i don't think my safety will ultimately come from removing myself from people not like me. safety, i think, comes not from cutting ties, but from building them. i will only really be safe in a society that accepts difference, multiplicity, strangeness, variety. i will only be truly safe in a society where we come together — across the gulfs that separate us — to take care of one another

i think there are illuminating parallels with feminist/lesbian separatism here. in its most extreme versions, such separatism abandons the demand that women be safe around men and instead attempts the task of building a space without men for women to inhabit. similarly, it seems to me that Jewish ethno-nationalism abandons the demand that Jewish people be safe around goyim and instead attempts to build a space without goyim for Jewish people to inhabit.⁵ i think Jews can and must be safe among goyim. i think women can and must be safe among men. i think trans people can and must be safe among cis people. that is the kind of world i am committed to fighting for, not one where we give in to fear and retreat into gardens walled by suspicion and hostility⁶

i'm not going to pretend that that's an easy world to build.⁷ i'm not going to pretend i can point to a bunch of stable, just, pluralistic societies and go "eh, just do what they did!" (altho there's no shortage of societies i can point to that went the "this place is for us and only us" route and wound up producing dystopian nightmares⁸). i'm not even going to pretend that i think building a just world from where we are now is inevitable, or even that i always think it is possible. there are days it is very hard to believe. but i always think it's worth striving for. if a just world that guarantees a good life to all isn't worth striving for, what is? if we are to suffer defeat, let it be a slow defeat, a long defeat, a fighting defeat. i am not willing to give up on my neighbors. i am not willing to abandon the charge of seeking the good for those not like me. i am not willing to abandon the hope that will seek the good for me despite my strangeness to them. and i reject any philosophy or politics that asks me to do so

_________________________________________________

¹i'm using "Jewish ethno-nationalist" here because i think it's been subject to less semantic dilution than "Zionist", and i want to avoid semantic arguments here as much as possible. whatever prescriptivist arguments you want to marshal that this or that term should mean X, i think it's clear that the descriptivist ship has long since set sail when it comes to "Zionism". (when pushed for specifics, i've seen self-professed Zionists and anti-Zionists outline essentially identical political programs, which certainly makes it seem to me that these terms are of minimal utility at best)

²obviously, what's happening on the ground is very bad. but critiquing what's happening on the ground often runs into severe questions of evidential reliability and can also leave the impression that Jewish ethno-nationalism is a good idea implemented badly, which is why i want to take aim at this level here

³given the European origins of this movement in its modern incarnation, i think it's unsurprising who gets imagined as "just a Jew" and not any other marked category. and from there, i think it's also unsurprising (if depressing) how various Jews who do exist in other marked categories have been and are treated by the "Jewish State" — the promised safety turns out to be predicated on all the usual axes of whiteness, wealth, ability, and so on

⁴indeed, i have often found that groups predicated on the idea that "we're all in alignment here" are often much more resistant to acknowledging members' various bigotries than groups not predicated on that assumption

⁵and, similarly, this attempt to cleave the world along one axis of hierarchy invariably reveals the inadequacy of one-identity-only frameworks for tackling the full complexity of the world. among other things, feminist/lesbian separatism has come under sustained critique from Black feminists like Barbara Smith for sundering ties of solidarity that are critical for fighting racism. victimhood and oppression are not fixed, ontological states, but fluid, shifting, contextual relationships. we cannot undo the snarlingly intertwined systems of oppression by replicating them in miniature

⁶the fear is certainly a real emotion; it is one i have felt at times myself. sometimes it is even based on an accurate perception of the world! but also: sometimes not. my fear of kitchen knives spontaneously levitating and flying around the room certainly feels real to me, but it's not a thing that can actually happen. one of the really hard things to do in the world, i've found, is parsing out the fears that are just feelings i'm having from the fears that tell me actual actionable information about the world and then striking a livable balance between reasonable precaution and paranoia. precautions against danger often come with their own set of risks: locking a door to keep out potential thieves ups the odds of being trapped in a building fire; using a different complex password for every site raises the risk of forgetting one and having a critical account shut down; the medications that drastically cut the frequency of debilitating migraines can raise the likelihood of other adverse health effects. more broadly, viewing neighbors with suspicion, fear, and distrust has a corrosive effect on the social fabric, and makes it harder to structure society to make sure everyone has food, clothes, housing, healthcare — all the things a society is supposed to do. (it's hard to convince people to take care of people they're afraid of, especially if they believe (rightly or wrongly) that they will have to give up something they care about (usually money, but also convenience, prestige, power) for that to happen.) and that corrosive effect can get very extreme — when fascism wants to recruit you to its cause, the sales pitch is usually less "hey, do you want to unleash horrific violence against those folks over there?" and more "hey, aren't you tired of being ~afraid~? don't you want to feel ~safe~? isn't it about time you had all the wealth, respect, and power that's rightfully yours and that's been kept from you for so long?". fear isn't the only way that horrors get unleashed, but it's a very potent one. (i don't think there's a formula for striking the right balance here. as with so many balancing acts, too much comes down to context and the specifics of all those involved, not least because the scale and nature of threats can vary so wildly. i believe that everyone deserves to be safe (insofar as any of us mostly hairless apes clinging to a thin crust of dirt on an iron ball whirling thru the cosmic void around a sphere of nuclear fire can be safe from loss, grief, accident, disaster, or misfortune...), but being and feeling are different matters, and pursuing the feeling of safety without limit can easily lead to logics of annihilation.) (and indeed, i am not the first to be struck by the fact that in many ways it is in the interests of the State of Israel, as a state, if Jews feel unsafe in the rest of the world, because that feeling of unsafety is so easily leveraged to both increase political support for the State of Israel and encourage Jewish people to leave the Diaspora and move to the State of Israel. which, unnervingly, is where you sometimes find the State of Israel and its agents taking the position that Jews don't belong anywhere that isn't the immediate environs of Jerusalem, a position that is ultimately indistinguishable from any number of dime-store Judeophobias)

⁷indeed, i think this is one of many places where it's easier to identify the problem than it is to solve it. many middle schoolers can explain the problem of Fermat's Last Theorem; barely a handful of professional mathematicians in the world could explain the proof. my cat can figure out how to break a vase even tho he can't reliably find a toy he's just been playing with when he's sitting directly on top of it (it's fine, he doesn't follow me on here, i can say that about him); in some cases, a skilled artisan can repair the vase so it functions again; no one in the world can turn back time so that the vase was never broken to begin with. it's easy to invent chessboard solutions to entrenched societal conflicts — move this border here, enact this constitution there, change this societal attitude for all involved, and hey presto!, utopia. but the world is not a game of chess. education, advocacy, activism, political organization, even wildcat direct action — these are all slow, effortful, uncertain processes, and everyone with a different vision of the future is also exercising their agency to change the course of events. i think societies are easy to break and hard to repair. in many cases, i don't really know how we go from here, the real world as it actually is with all its shattered bones and aching wounds and long-festering resentments, to there, a world of true justice. but i think it's worth trying. i think it's worth imagining. i hope you do too

⁸like, idk what even to say if "Germany for the Germans" doesn't set off alarm bells. even if they raised up a brand new continent from the ocean floor, i still think i'd be wary of the political project of building a ~Jewish state for the Jews~. i don't trust nationalism of any flavor. i think the Diasporic notion of feeling kinship with and responsibility for people all around the world regardless of borders, flags, kings, bureaucracies is beautiful and worth cherishing and protecting. i don't dream of finally being on top of the hierarchy; i dream of there not being a hierarchy to begin with