#i like that the other characters got some development

[manyu-ten]

Stans of all kind are lowkey a curse upon oneself because how are you gonna just be like "he isn't the only one who died young" but another person will say "its a trauma response not a temper tantrum".

Now, y'all. Both can be true. A temper tantrum can be a part of one's trauma response when the trauma in question is "I died at 15 and was lowkey catatonic before being pushed into a magical pit of green water". No shit the kid has shitty emotional regulation 😭. How many of us were happy with our families' versions of help when we were teenagers who felt like no one understood us?

Yeah, a temper tantrum is a clear sign of Emotional Dysregulation. Its also a sign of trauma. Thats two things that are both true, even at the same time.

As for Jason's actual death:

It was literally a turning point for Comics in general. I've tutored students from classes where DitF was taught in curriculums concerning the development of media and pop culture. Where it—in context of DC's pre-crisis, Infinite-crisis and post-crisis lineup AND in the context of the actual climate of DC Comics/real life fans in the 80s—was dissected.

Him dying young, as Robin, as an associate of Batman and the newly minted Nightwing, as a character explicitly shown to not want to give Rapists compassion—that was a big deal at the time. Not a mind bogglingly big deal. But it meant something to a lot of people one way or another. Tim's creation, from his background, to how he is associated with Dick to him eventually having his very own Robin run is a testament to what DC felt like they had to do after Jason was killed. Haunting the narrative for the character development of Bruce, Dick, Tim and even to a limited extent, Cass's relationship to Bruce during her og Batgirl run.

I think (this is a flexible opinion than can be changed and or added upon. Have comprehension y'all) the most significant (and truly, that may be stretching it a little) death of an underage hero in DC's lineup before Jason might have been Terra and part of the reason her death was so significant was because of the characters it introduced: Deathstroke, Jericho and Dick becoming Nightwing.

Modernly, we are influenced by our thoughts and behaviors concerning these characters by not just the actual comics, but the social climate (economic, political, parasocial, the avenues of trends in media) permeating the time in which each of these storylines were presented. We have predisposed notions of characters and their archetypes, as well as the facets of human sociability that they represent.

Implicitly, or with full discretion, we're inclined to give certain narratives, certain characters, more or less leeway than others. It doesn't matter which way you skew, we all tend to fall somewhere on the spectrum.

On Jason's standoff with Bruce:

He explicitly states that he knows Bruce loved him. What he wanted proven was does Bruce still love him, despite what he's done and if he shoots the Joker through the head.

It should also be noted, Jason says he doesn't care for the World in Lost Days, but, because we all have enough comprehension, we understand this isn't true, as he is shown still caring for other people.

Saying that he rejects every hand offered: yeah, he does. He probably doesn't feel like they are offering because they care about him specifically, only that they gotta save him from himself like some paradigm of their moral codes. Sometimes, he's just being a bitch. Which, real. Y'all do shit rationally all the time with no impulsive influence of emotion? Give me your tips. People on the internet in their 30s, with fully developed frontal lobes still irrationally react to things all the time. Why are you guys expecting a fictional, died and got resurrected 19 year old to have proper emotional regulation? The bitch didn't even graduate high school like guys, yeah he's wrong about shit. Yeah, he can throw a temper tantrum. But. He's also rightfully angry about some stuff.

Is rejecting the offered hand of one only worth criticism when the person is an obvious danger to others? When Dick places the blame upon all wrongdoings on himself (unfairly so) and chooses to walk the path alone, when Cassandra does the same (equally, unfairly so)—are they not dangers to others too? They are. It doesn't matter if it works out for them in the end—the point is that they WERE a possible danger. Self-flagellation or perceived guilt doesn't absolve you of possibly risking other peoples' lives and or livelihoods. As the saying goes, the dog that cries after the kill is no better than the dog who does not. (Kill is metaphoric here. Please understand this y'all 😭).

(Another aside: Everyone is so quick to call a character sociopathic 😭. Sociopathy isn't a diagnosable mental disorder, but more than that, in real life, one must have actually had a Conduct Disorder in order to fulfill part of the criteria to be diagnosed with ASPD as an adult. You could argue Jason had CD, but in most cases, you could also say the same shit as Dick. If Jason has childhood CD, so did Dick. People misunderstand antisocial behavior as a symptom of other disorders as stark evidence of sociopathy or psychopathy. Jason was antisocial in his New-Earth run in Lost Days and UtRH (and anything else predating BftC) but, arguably, so was Bruce and Dick to an extent. The only reason people are so adamant to point it out with Jason is because of his alignment and his stance on killing. I'm sorry guys, but some of the most antisocial, diagnosed with ASPD, literally psychopathic or sociopathic people I have ever worked with are Surgeons—especially Surgeons who work with convicted felons. They will save your life, put their all into the care of a patient and guess what? They still antisocial as fuck. Doing good things doesn't excuse you of being antisocial nor having other traits of psychopathy or sociopathy. You don't have to be a murderer to be antisocial and caring about the lives of others doesn't inherently mean you aren't antisocial. When you hear 'disregarding the rights of others' that doesn't pertain just to acts of abuse or violence but to the rejection of others' autonomy, their opinions and even their expertise in their own field.)

Anyway.

You kin to a character and a narrative that means something to you while disregarding or undermining another character—especially when that character breaks the mold of what fits your narrative.

It be like that sometimes.

Jason died at 15 and that is tragic, but the real tragedy is that when he returns he is stuck in a teenage temper tantrum the likes of which have never been seen. He's cold and calculating until something doesn't go his way and then he's lashing out and slamming doors. Except he's vigilante trained and has access to guns so his temper tantrum is realized in lives lost not new doors.

[levanterhaze]

── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader dirty talk, masturbation, rough sex, slight choking, use of nicknames, overstimulation among other things I can't even name

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[10k words ]♡― once again, I must thank you all for your love and for continuing to enjoy gameboy! this chapter is a bit long, but for me it's interesting to write the development of the characters to get where we want to go! don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three] ♡ [part four]

On the corner of my bed Oh, and maybe on the beach You could do it on your own While you're lookin' at me

After absolutely killing your performance of Out Here On My Own, the applause hit you like a tidal wave. A standing ovation. Even Mrs. Baek looked mildly impressed, which, considering her usual stone-cold demeanor, basically meant she was internally sobbing.

And just like that, all the nerves? Gone. Vanished into thin air like they were never even there.

Bangchan had been watching—because of course, he had—but before you could revel in that fact for too long, he got a call and had to bounce. Typical.

You should have been freaking out about the whole making out backstage situation. Should’ve been scanning every corner for witnesses, mentally preparing for a campus-wide scandal. But weirdly? You weren’t. That reckless, confident part of you—the one still floating on cloud nine—did not care. If anything, you could still feel him. His touch on your waist like a phantom burn, his lips still branded on yours.

But whatever. You had bigger things to stress about. The final list wasn’t coming out until Monday, which meant you had the entire weekend to sit in pure, unfiltered agony over it. Luckily, Saturday’s party was the perfect excuse to get out of your head for a while.

Fast forward through a day of pretending to be studious with Sohee—aka desperately trying to focus while your brain replayed that kiss—you finally took a well-earned shower and decided to go for a solo nighttime stroll. 

Campus was still alive, students buzzing around in little clusters, laughing and talking like they didn’t have impending deadlines. You shoved your headphones in, following the athletics track, which was mostly empty by now.

The night air had that perfect, crisp breeze—the kind that made you grateful you threw on a cardigan. And just when you thought the moment couldn’t get any better, Wonderwall started playing. You smirked to yourself. Damn, you loved this song.

And yet, with every step, your brain kept poking at you like an annoying little sibling. Anxiety, sure. But let’s not forget the other mess currently occupying premium real estate in your mind—Hyunjin.

You hadn’t talked to him since you drunkenly spilled your guts, quite literally, about your whole Bangchan situation. And if you were being honest, which you weren’t, at least not with yourself, you were actively dodging that conversation. Because talking to Hyunjin meant facing your own feelings, and frankly, you were not clocked in for that emotional labor.

Your phone lit up mid-walk.

Mingyu: can I see you today?

You chewed on your lip, staring at the message. It was almost ridiculous how this boy—new, uncomplicated, and seemingly sincere—wanted something real with you. And yet, here you were, hesitating. Because no matter how nice Mingyu was, your brain wasn’t stuck on him.

It was stuck on someone else.

On a certain maddening, frustrating, insanely good kisser who had, at some point, tattooed himself onto your skin. If physical touch could be permanent, Bangchan’s hands would be everywhere on you. And, let’s be honest, you wouldn’t exactly be filing a complaint about it.

Before you even processed the decision, your feet had already made it for you. You were crossing campus, heading straight for his dorm.

Because you needed to talk. Like adults. No teasing, no sarcastic little jabs—just honesty.

And, okay, maybe you needed to see him, too. Feel him. More than ever.

Your determination was fuel to the fire already burning inside you. Your heart was pounding, your brain was screaming at you to calm down, but your body wasn’t taking any orders tonight. That feverish, all-consuming pull settled deep in your gut, an intoxicating mix of adrenaline, nerves, and something terrifyingly real.

You took the stairs two at a time, like the damn dorm might vanish before you got there.

By the time you reached his door, you were clutching your excitement close, biting back a smile even as your fingers trembled. Deep breath. You knocked, quick and sure.

It’s fine. He’ll listen. You’ll talk. You’ll finally—

The door swung open.

And instead of a tall, dark-haired boy, you were met with her.

She was pretty. Unfairly, effortlessly pretty—the kind of girl who belonged on magazine covers and in the daydreams of poets. Medium height, light hair, bright eyes. The kind of face men went to war over.

Your stomach dropped like a stone.

“Hi!” she greeted, all warmth and ease, completely oblivious to the way the air had just been sucked out of your lungs.

You swallowed, forcing a polite nod. “Uh, hey… is Bangchan here?”

She shook her head, smiling like this was just any other casual conversation. And that’s when you noticed it—his black t-shirt, draped over her frame.

“Oh, no. He went to grab some food.” she tilted her head, something curious in her gaze. “Are you a friend of his? Oh! Sorry—I’m Yeojin. His girlfriend. And you are…?”

Her words hit like a gut punch, sucking the warmth right out of your chest.

A bitter laugh bubbled up, but you swallowed it down, masking the sting with a tight-lipped smile. “A classmate,” you said smoothly. “I just had a question, but… I think it can wait till Monday.”

And just like that, the fire inside you? Extinguished.

The girl pursed her glossy lips, then nodded politely. “Okay. I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

“No need.” the words left your mouth before she could even finish. “Thanks, Yeojin.”

Her name felt like venom rolling off your tongue, thick and bitter, coating your mouth with something vile.

By the time you hit the stairs, you were moving so fast you were honestly surprised you didn’t wipe out. Your pulse was a hammer against your ribs, your breath uneven. Your brain hadn’t even caught up yet—stuck on a loop, trying to process the absolute train wreck that had just unfolded.

He had a girlfriend this whole time.

He lied to you.

He did exactly what everyone said he would.

The sharp sting of disappointment curdled into full-blown anger. Your steps turned heavier, each one smacking against the pavement like a silent war drum. You were so locked into getting to your dorm—so wound up with the need to disappear into your own space—you probably would’ve plowed through half a dozen people without a second thought.

But fate had a sick sense of humor. Because halfway across campus, you spotted him.

Bangchan, heading back toward the dorms, a paper bag dangling from his hand—food, obviously, because why wouldn’t he be casually picking up dinner while your world imploded?

His eyes lit up the second he saw you, but that moment of warmth flickered out fast when you didn’t even look at him. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t hesitate. Just walked right past him like he was nothing—like he was air—nearly clipping his arm in the process.

He stood there for two seconds, frozen, before spinning around. Your name tore from his lips, sharp and urgent.

“What happened?” when you didn’t answer, his voice shot up, strained. “Where are you going?”

You sucked in a deep breath, your whole body practically vibrating with anger. Then, before you could stop yourself, you spun around and marched right back toward him, each step digging into the grass like you were stomping out a fire.

“To my dorm,” you snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business. Oh, and fun fact—I just came back from yours.” sarcasm dripped from your voice like honey laced with poison.

Bangchan blinked, his brain buffering like a slow-loading webpage. The look on his face almost made you laugh—almost. Instead, you just smiled, sharp and humorless. Yeah, process that, asshole.

You turned to leave, but before you could, his hand caught yours. Not your wrist, like some desperate last-ditch grab—your hand. Like he meant it. And the second your skin met his, it was like touching an open flame.

“Let me explain.” his voice was tight, urgent.

“Don’t touch me.” you yanked your hand back like it burned. “I don’t give a shit about whatever excuse you’re about to pull out of your ass.”

His jaw clenched. “Can you stop being so damn stubborn and just listen to me for once?”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, you wanna explain?” you licked your lips, tasting nothing but bitterness. “Go ahead. Explain how you had a girlfriend this whole time while you were fucking around with me.”

The words landed like a punch to the gut—on both of you.

Because, deep down, being with you had never been defined. No labels. No promises. No safety net to fall back on. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Bangchan’s brows snapped together. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t even try it.” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re really gonna stand there and lie to my face? I saw her.”

His frustration bubbled over, his arms flying up in exasperation. “I genuinely have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” his voice cracked with frustration. He looked at you like he was praying for some divine intervention to make sense of this mess. “If you’re talking about—”

“Just go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone, Bangchan.” your voice was steady, but he wasn’t stupid—he saw the fire still burning in your eyes, catching in the moonlight.

And maybe if he had taken half a second to think, he wouldn’t have said it. Maybe he would’ve swallowed his pride and stopped himself from making it worse.

But he didn’t.

“Whatever, right?” he scoffed, voice laced with something bitter. “It’s not like we were anything.”

You pressed your lips together, jaw tight, throat burning like you’d swallowed glass. And for the first time in your life, really the first, you felt so humiliated—so stupid—that your eyes burned with unshed tears.

Bangchan saw it. Saw the way your waterline glistened, saw the way your breath hitched, but you wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. Not for him.

“If you really think that’s the problem, then that says a whole lot more about you than it does about me.” your voice was sharp, but quiet, like a blade sliding back into its sheath.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

You turned on your heel and walked away, each step fueled by a firestorm of anger, hurt, and something else you weren’t ready to name. Bangchan watched you go, standing frozen in place, and by the time he even thought about stopping you—

It was too late.

Outside your dorm, you yanked your phone out of your pocket, fingers flying across the screen like a woman on a mission. Your pulse was still hammering, adrenaline buzzing under your skin as you pulled up Mingyu’s contact and typed without hesitation.

You: Feel like crashing a party on Saturday?

Barely a beat passed before your phone vibrated with his response.

Mingyu: You had me at “party.”

Bangchan pushed open the door to his dorm with more force than necessary, letting it slam shut behind him. His pulse was still racing, his jaw tight with frustration.

And there she was. Yeojin.

Lying on his bed, scrolling through her phone like she owned the place. His old sweatshirt was hanging off her shoulder, and she barely spared him a glance when he walked in.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said, swinging her legs idly. “Didn’t take you long.”

Bangchan set his bag of takeout on the desk and exhaled sharply through his nose. “What the hell did you say to her?”

Yeojin finally looked up, her expression the perfect blend of innocence and amusement. “Say what exactly?”

His fingers flexed at his sides. “You know what,” he ground out. “You told her we’re together. Why?”

She tilted her head, brows lifting. “I never said that.”

Bangchan let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeojin, don’t play games with me.”

“I didn’t, Chan.” she sighed dramatically, stretching her arms over her head. “She asked if you were here, I said no, and I introduced myself. It’s not my fault if she jumped to conclusions.”

He clenched his jaw, glaring at her. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

She just smiled. “So what if it is?” her voice dropped, teasing, as she sat up. “You used to like when I messed with people.”

Bangchan took a step back when she reached for him, his whole body recoiling instinctively.

“We’re not kids anymore, Yeojin,” he muttered. “And I don’t have time for this.” he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “I got Thai food. Help yourself.”

Before she could say anything else, he was gone.

The cool night air did little to calm Bangchan’s nerves as he walked toward the basketball court, fists shoved in his hoodie pockets. His mind was a mess, replaying the way you had looked at him—like he was exactly what people warned you about.

Before he could spiral further, a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

“Damn, what’s with the face?” Changbin asked, appearing from the other side of the path. “You look like you wanna punch a hole in a wall.”

Bangchan exhaled sharply. “Not a wall.”

Changbin frowned. “What the hell happened?”

Bangchan hesitated before tilting his head toward the court. “Basketball first. Talking later.”

Changbin smirked. “I like where this is going.”

Fifteen minutes later, Bangchan sat on the edge of the basketball court, legs stretched out, elbows resting on his knees, looking like life had personally drop-kicked him.

Across from him, Changbin dribbled the ball lazily, waiting. And waiting. Until his patience ran out.

“So?” Changbin finally asked, passing him the ball. “Spill.”

Bangchan caught it, staring at it for a second before shaking his head. “Yeojin’s here.”

Changbin nearly fumbled the rebound. “I’m sorry—what?” his face twisted in immediate disgust. “What the hell is she doing here?”

Bangchan sighed. “She came to visit. Said she was in town. It’s been years, and I figured—whatever, right? No harm in catching up.”

Changbin let out a dry laugh. “No harm? Bro, she’s a walking red flag. Why would you even entertain that?”

Bangchan pressed his tongue against his cheek. “I don’t know, man. Nostalgia? I mean, we didn’t exactly end badly, we just—” he sighed. “Didn’t work.”

Changbin scoffed. “Yeah, well, I never liked her. You know that.” 

Bangchan dribbled once, then tossed the ball toward the hoop. It hit the rim, circled, then dropped through the net. “There’s more.”

Changbin folded his arms. “Yeah, no shit. You’re sitting here like you just found out Santa isn’t real. What else happened?”

Bangchan caught the rebound and exhaled. “She saw.”

Changbin frowned. “Saw what?”

Bangchan gave him a look.

“Oh.” Changbin winced. “Shit.” he let out a slow whistle. “That’s… bad.”

“No shit,” Bangchan muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “She showed up at my dorm, and instead of me opening the door, Yeojin did.”

Changbin groaned. “Dude. No.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Bangchan went on, voice dripping with frustration. “Yeojin, being the manipulative little menace she is, basically introduced herself as my girlfriend.”

Changbin stared at him like he just admitted to murder. “And she believed that?”

Bangchan laughed bitterly. “Why wouldn’t she? The look she gave me, man… like I was exactly what she expected. Some asshole playing games.”

Changbin studied him for a second. “And that bothers you.”

Bangchan scoffed. “Of course it fucking bothers me.” he leaned forward, gripping the ball tight. “She drives me insane, Bin. Like—she acts like it’s nothing. Like whatever we had was just this casual, meaningless thing. But then she turns around and—” he exhaled sharply. “Her actions say otherwise. She looks at me like she feels something. She reacts like she cares. But every time I get close, she shuts it down.”

Changbin snorted, rolling the ball between his palms. “So basically, she’s bullshitting, you’re bullshitting, and now you’re both miserable?”

Bangchan shot him a glare.

Changbin smirked. “I mean, she won’t admit she likes you, and you’re sitting here trauma-dumping on me instead of doing something about it.”

Bangchan groaned, tilting his head back against the wall. “She’s pissed, Bin. Like, really pissed.”

“So fix it.”

Bangchan laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Easier said than done.”

Changbin passed him the ball. “So what now?”

Bangchan caught it, staring down at the faded lettering on the rubber. That was the question, wasn’t it? Because right now, you wanted nothing to do with him.

And honestly? He deserved it.

Saturday morning. Group breakfast. Good vibes. At least, that’s what you were aiming for.

You were mid-story, telling Felix how the auditions had gone, when the universe decided to test your patience. Again.

Changbin strolled in with Jisung, Bangchan, and—you had to blink twice just to confirm—Yeojin.

Of course. Because it wasn’t enough that he lied. He had to parade it around like some kind of grand event.

“I need a fat slice of chocolate cake,” Changbin announced, dropping into his seat. “Something sweet to cleanse the absolute trash energy in the air.”

Your eyes flicked to Yeojin, who was standing a little too comfortably next to Bangchan. 

“Yeojin, long time no see,” Hyunjin greeted, all polite and civil.

She beamed. “Hyunjin! Oh my God, it’s really you!” she gushed, voice dripping with enthusiasm. You wanted to be a girl’s girl, really—you did. But something about her tone made your eye twitch.

“Who’s that?” Sohee whispered, not even bothering to be discreet.

“Oh, nice to meet you,” Yeojin said, flashing a smile that felt way too rehearsed. “Yeojin. Chan’s friend.”

She said it like she was accepting a damn award. The table went dead silent. Everyone shared a look.

You, however, remained completely unbothered, taking a slow sip of your strawberry milk like you had all the time in the world.

Bangchan slid into the seat across from you, throwing not-so-subtle glances in your direction—just in case you maybe wanted to acknowledge his existence.

You didn’t. Instead, you busied yourself with literally anything else. The napkins. The straw in your drink. The slow, satisfying process of ignoring him.

If he wanted your attention, he’d have to earn it.

Yeojin was annoyingly easy to get along with. Effortless charm, perfectly timed laughs—like she’d studied the art of socializing and graduated top of her class. And maybe that wouldn’t have bothered you if you didn’t feel an immediate, inexplicable urge to dislike her.

Maybe it was the way she smiled just a little too much. Like she was in on some inside joke that no one else was laughing at. Or how she leaned into Bangchan like he had his own gravitational pull, always conveniently this close to falling into his lap.

For someone who had been so desperate to explain himself last night, he looked awfully comfortable letting her cling to him now.

“So, everyone’s going tonight, right?” Jisung asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

Yeojin jumped on the conversation like it was an open invitation. “What’s tonight?”

“Jisung’s DJing at a party,” Eunji answered, taking a sip of her drink.

Yeojin hummed, tilting her head in that thoughtful but not really way. “I was going to leave after lunch, but… I guess I can stay a little longer.”

She glanced at Bangchan like she was waiting for permission.

Too bad he wasn’t paying attention. His focus was glued to his phone, fingers tapping out a message.

Your own phone buzzed in your pocket.

Bangchan: can we talk?

Your eyes flicked up, purely on instinct. And there he was. Watching you.

You frowned, pulled out your phone, read the message, and stuffed it right back in your pocket. No response.

The table blurred into background noise. Laughter, conversation, the occasional clatter of silverware—it all melted into static. Because Bangchan was still looking. That steady, expectant stare that made your skin itch. That made your chest feel a little too tight.

Your phone buzzed again.

Bangchan: you can’t ignore me forever.

Bet.

You smirked to yourself. If Bangchan thought he could tell you what to do, he had another thing coming.

Grabbing the strap of your bag, you stood up, all casual confidence, and turned to Sohee and Eunji. “I’m heading out with Hyunjin.” no further explanation. Just a statement.

Hyunjin, caught in the crossfire of whatever this was, frowned. “Wait—what? Since when?”

You just kept walking, tossing a grin over your shoulder. “Since right now. Just smile and act natural.”

 You made sure to take the long way around the table, passing directly in front of Bangchan—not looking at him. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Just air.

Hyunjin, still struggling to keep up, shot a quick glance back before leaning in. “Okay, seriously, what was that? Bangchan looked like he was about to start breathing fire.”

You flicked your hair over your shoulder, your smirk widening.

“Revenge, Hyun. Just a little harmless revenge.”

The house was packed.

Neon lights flickered wildly, splashing the room in chaotic waves of electric blue and fiery red, pulsing in sync with the bass. The air was thick—heat, sweat, cheap cologne, and the sharp sting of alcohol weaving together into something intoxicating. The floor thrummed beneath your boots, bodies moving in effortless rhythm, a silent agreement to just let go.

Jisung was at the DJ booth, throwing in ad-libs between transitions, hyping up the crowd like he was born for this. A remix dropped, shaking the walls, and the entire party roared in approval. Off-campus ragers had a way of making reality blur, like stepping into a fever dream.

Perfect.

Eunji and Sohee spotted you first, their eyes going comically wide, like they’d just witnessed the second coming of Christ.

“Jesus, look at you,” Sohee gasped, gripping your arm for dear life.

Eunji gave a solemn nod. “This outfit should be illegal.”

You twirled, just enough to let your skirt flare out, a little reminder of why you picked it.

“Drinks first, right?” you pointed at Hyunjin, who gave you an approving nod.

You peeled away from the group, squeezing through the sweaty crowd toward a corner where a massive keg stood like a beacon of bad decisions. There were stronger drinks, but you decided to take it easy—for now.

Then, in half a second, you felt it. Like your body already knew, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Under the pulsing red lights, he looked dangerous. A predator in slow motion, moving through the crowd with that effortless, lazy confidence that made people either run toward him or clear a path. Flashes of white and blue caught the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint sheen of sweat at his collarbone. A contrast—razor-edged and infuriatingly soft all at once.

And yet. You couldn’t focus on any of that.

Because Yeojin was practically clinging to him.

Talking—laughing, leaning, performing—but Bangchan barely seemed to notice. If anything, he looked somewhere else entirely. Somewhere you were. Because the second your eyes met, his focus locked in.

And he started moving. One step. Then another.

But before he could take a third, an arm slid around your waist.

Mingyu.

His touch was warm, firm—a perfectly timed lifeline. His lips brushed against your ear, voice low and deliberate. “Have I mentioned you look insane tonight?”

A slow, satisfied smile curled on your lips. Perfect.

Through the neon haze, you caught Bangchan’s reaction over Mingyu’s shoulder. Electric blue light flickered across his face like something straight out of a movie scene.

Oh, he was pissed. Not just annoyed. Not just irritated. Seething.

Jaw clenched. Shoulders tight. Eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

Good.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Dance with me?”

You let the question hang, stretching the moment just because you could—fully aware of your audience. Then, with a casual flick of your fingers, you grabbed Mingyu’s wrist and turned back to your friends.

And that’s when the remix hit.

The song of the summer. A full-blown club anthem blasted through the house, lights flashing in sync with the bass, and suddenly Eunji and Sohee were dragging you onto the dance floor. You barely had time to toss Mingyu a look before pulling him into the crowd with you.

Sohee was already wrapped around her boyfriend’s neck, hair flying as she danced like she was possessed, while Minho just laughed at her antics. Jisung was losing his mind behind the DJ booth, hyping up the party like a man on a mission.

And Bangchan? He didn’t move. He just watched.

Watched as you danced. Watched as Mingyu’s hands found your waist. Watched as you threw your head back, laughing, moving with the beat like you had nothing to prove.

And under the pulsing red lights, with silver glitter catching on your cheekbones, you didn’t just look good. You looked untouchable.

And he looked like a man about to start a war.

You spun around, arms draped over Mingyu’s shoulders as his hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you into the rhythm. To anyone watching, you two looked dangerously close—every move synced, every touch easy, like this was something more than just a party moment. But in the back of your mind, a small, annoying voice reminded you that this wasn’t about Mingyu at all.

Still, too late now.

The strobe lights flashed in bursts, making everything feel like a glitch in time—jumping, dancing, bodies moving like there was no tomorrow. You lost sight of Bangchan for a while, which was probably for the best. So, you let go. Had fun. Actually enjoyed yourself with your friends.

Until someone slammed into you, knocking the air right out of your lungs.

One second, Mingyu was right there. The next, he was gone, practically launched across the floor. “What the—” you barely got the words out before you saw the damage.

Changbin stood there, wide-eyed, drenched in a suspiciously pink drink, looking like he just survived a battlefield. And Mingyu? Equally soaked, equally stunned, like he was still processing what the hell just happened.

“Dude, shit—sorry!” Changbin shouted, voice barely cutting through the music.

You blinked, taking in the absolute mess before turning back to him. “Are you good?”

Changbin nodded rapidly, looking between you and Mingyu like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or start running. “Yeah, yeah, my bad!”

Then he turned back to Mingyu, hands up like a man pleading for his life.

Mingyu just let out a sigh, lifting the hem of his now ruined white T-shirt like he was mourning a fallen soldier. “Alright. I’ll be right back,” he said, shaking his head before disappearing into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Changbin grabbed your arm, his expression serious—well, as serious as someone drenched in a neon-pink drink could look. He gestured for you to follow, weaving through the bodies until you reached the foot of the stairs.

“What?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Can you grab me a shirt? I left one in Jisung’s backpack.”

You took a second to assess the situation. Changbin, slightly tipsy, covered in pink, blinking at you like a lost puppy. He looked ridiculous.

With a dramatic sigh, you caved. “Fine.”

“You’re the best,” he said, clasping his hands like he was praising the heavens. “It’s in the room on the right, upstairs.”

You turned, climbing the stairs while dodging couples making out on the steps like it was some kind of kissing marathon. Once you reached the hallway, you scanned the doors—long corridor, a few rooms—until you spotted one slightly open on the right.

Alright. In and out. Quick mission.

Stepping inside, you started searching for Jisung’s bag—first the floor, then the bed. Nothing.

And then—

Movement.

From the corner of your eye, a figure emerged from behind the bed, rising like a shadow from the dark.

Your breath caught. Bangchan. Standing there. Watching you.

A black cable twirled between his fingers, slow and deliberate, his gaze unreadable under the dim glow of the hallway lights.

“What?” you were the first to break the silence, arms crossing instinctively. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Bangchan gave you a flat look, holding up the black cable like it was evidence in court. “I should be asking you that. I came to get Han’s charger.” he raised an eyebrow, gaze sharp, like he wasn’t entirely convinced.

You opened your mouth, fully prepared to deliver something scathing—but before you could get a word out, the door swung open again.

“Sorry, kids! Not opening this door until you sort yourselves out!”

You barely had time to process Changbin’s smug, drunken grin before the door slammed shut.

For half a second, you froze.

Then you launched at the door, fists pounding like you could open it through sheer rage. “Changbin, open this fucking door right now!”

No answer. Just the distant thrum of music, too muffled for anyone outside to hear you scream bloody murder.

You yanked at the handle—definitely locked.

With a sharp inhale, you turned, glaring daggers at Bangchan, who was just… standing there. Watching. Amused.

“Are you just gonna stand there? Do something!”

His lips twitched, like he was this close to laughing. “Pretty sure this is your problem, not mine.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, so now you don’t wanna get involved?”

Bangchan sighed—slow, exaggerated—before strolling up to the door, resting a lazy hand on the knob, and giving it a completely useless jiggle. Then he turned back to you with a straight face.

“Yeah. It’s locked.”

You stared at him. Blinked. Then scoffed so hard you nearly choked.

“No shit, Sherlock. Are you serious?”

Bangchan couldn’t help it—he laughed. Because you were spiraling, and honestly? It was funny as hell.

“I’ll call him,” he said, still smirking.

You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly left your skull and made your way over to the double bed in the corner. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, collapsing onto the edge like this was some Shakespearean tragedy.

Then a thought clicked, and suddenly, everything made sense.

Your head snapped up. “Wait—” you shot to your feet, eyes narrowing. “He knows. You told him.”

Bangchan barely looked fazed. “He kinda figured it out on his own, if that makes you feel any better.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Bangchan was so into you, stealing glances constantly, and Changbin wasn’t stupid. The man could read a room like it was his job.

You dragged a hand down your face, exhaling sharply. “This is a nightmare.”

Bangchan tilted his head, amused. “Jesus, is it really that bad being stuck in here with me? Last time, you weren’t exactly complaining.”

The second those words left his mouth, you hit him with a look so deadly he immediately shut up.

“Just get Changbin to open the damn door, Bangchan,” you said flatly, plopping back down onto the bed, dead center, legs crossed like you were settling in for a long, miserable wait.

You pulled out your phone, thumbs flying across the screen as you sent a message to Hyunjin—the only person who knew about the whole situation. You could have asked Sohee, Eunji, or even Mingyu, but that would just open a very annoying can of worms.

And you were not in the mood for questions.

This couldn’t be real. No way. The second you got out of here, Changbin was getting his ass handed to him. And Mingyu was probably already wondering where the hell you’d disappeared to. Just like Yeojin was probably searching for Bangchan.

Perfect.

“He’s not answering,” Bangchan announced, completely unfazed. “Which means he’s ignoring me on purpose. So, we wait.” he sat by the window like it was just another Tuesday, leaning back on his palms.

“This is your fault.”

That earned you a scoff. “How the hell is this my fault?”

You shot him a glare. “If you hadn’t spilled everything to him, none of this would be happening.”

Bangchan let out a dry laugh, tilting his head like you were so predictable. “Right. And if you hadn’t jumped to conclusions without actually listening to me—like you always do—none of this would be happening either.”

Oof. Direct hit. You hated when he had a point.

“I have nothing to hear from you,” you muttered, crossing your arms and staring at literally anything else in the room.

Silence.

Annoyingly, maddeningly, deafeningly loud silence.

Bangchan rested his arms on his knees, watching you like he had all the time in the world. And pretending he wasn’t there, yeah, that was a joke. His presence was like gravity—pulling, heavy, impossible to ignore.

Less than ten minutes passed before the anger started simmering down. Because that’s how it always went with him. Like a fire that burned too hot, too fast.

“You seriously thought she was my girlfriend?”

You turned, locking eyes with him. “What else was I supposed to think? She said it herself.”

Bangchan hummed, tapping his fingers against his knee. “She’s not. Yeojin’s an ex—from high school. Ancient history.” he exhaled sharply through his teeth. “She’s just… a little clueless.”

“A little?” you let out a sharp laugh. “She was wearing your clothes when I showed up at your dorm.” you rolled your eyes, but Bangchan only smiled. Because, yeah, that sounded a whole lot like jealousy.

Then something clicked. “Wait—what were you doing there that night?”

“Nothing.” you looked away, ignoring the sudden heat crawling up your neck.

His laugh was soft, almost teasing. But the way he was looking at you? Like you were the only thing worth seeing? That was dangerous.

“C’mon. Seriously.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, because he was so annoyingly persistent. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Doesn’t it?” Bangchan tilted his head, lips curving in that cocky little smirk. “I doubt that.”

“Well, I don’t care,” you shot back, folding your arms in defiance.

Bangchan pushed himself off the floor, moving to sit on the edge of the bed—close, but not too close. Still, he was big. Broad. Built like a problem. And despite the space between you, he somehow took up all of it.

Worse? He smelled stupidly good.

“What do you want?” you asked, bracing yourself for the answer—because Bangchan was stupidly honest, and you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

But he didn’t say a word. Just kept looking at you, pupils blown wide, gaze slow as it dragged over your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

Then, finally— “Why’d you come that night?”

You swallowed. “I went because… I wanted to talk. And… I wanted things to be okay between us.”

For a second, he just stared at you like you’d punched the air out of his lungs. Because you had gone after him. To fix things. To close the distance.

“You wanted to?” you barely nodded before he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Well, we’re two idiots, then.” his lips curled slightly, his whole energy shifting. “Because that’s all I want.”

Your eyes locked, and something about the way he was looking at you made your chest tighten. He had this insane ability to make you feel completely seen, like he could pick apart every thought in your head just by watching you.

“Why?”

Bangchan was never one to hold back, never afraid to be himself—especially when it came to being honest about what he wanted. And right now, he was this close to just laying it all out. Because the truth? He was ridiculously into you. More and more, every damn day.

“You’re stubborn, and I’m an idiot,” he muttered, lips pressing into a thin line before he let out a short laugh. The kind that made you laugh, too, before you even realized it. And honestly it pissed you off a little how easily he could do that—swing you from one extreme to another like it was nothing.

“Look,” he sighed. “I’m just gonna be straight with you, like I always am. I’m not playing games. I didn’t mean it when I said we were nothing.”

“But we are,” you mumbled, even though the words tasted like a lie. You weren’t anything. No labels, no relationship. Just a mess of late nights and tangled sheets—until things got way too complicated.

“I don’t want us to be nothing,” he said, shrugging, like he was just casually throwing his cards on the table. “Because ever since that first time, I haven’t wanted anyone else.”

Your breath caught, and suddenly, the bed felt too small, the room too warm. What the hell? You hadn’t expected this conversation to go there.

Bangchan? Not with anyone else? That was news. The guy was basically campus royalty when it came to hookups. Half the girls in your year had probably been in his dorm at some point.

And now he was sitting here, telling you this?

But now he was standing there, saying it out loud—no one else. Just you. And it sent your stomach into a tailspin.

“I shouldn’t have given you shit for it,” you muttered, nodding like that would somehow make the awkwardness go away. “I mean, since we’re not… you know.”

Bangchan lifted an eyebrow, clearly amused by how flustered you were.

“Oh, I know,” he said. “But you don’t get it. I don’t want anyone else.”

Your pulse spiked. Too fast. Too loud. What the hell was he trying to say?

“No, you’re just—” you let out a breathy, nervous laugh, stepping back like that would help. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bangchan didn’t let you go far. His hand caught yours, warm and steady, fingers wrapping around your wrist before he pulled you closer—right between his legs.

And then his hands were on your waist, fitting there like they belonged.

Your breath hitched.

His voice, suddenly lower, smoother, like silk wrapped in heat. “I know exactly what I want.”

Your eyes met his, and damn it, he was beautiful. That kind of beauty that wasn’t just about sharp jawlines and perfect features—it was something deeper, something that burned. The way his eyes locked onto you, glowing under the dim light. The way his expression was serious, but there was still softness lingering beneath it.

You knew what you wanted too. You just weren’t ready to admit it.

Your hands moved before your mind could catch up, tracing the curve of his brow, the sharp edge of his cheekbone—slow, like you were trying to memorize him by touch. Then, without thinking, you cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his skin.

Bangchan didn’t pull away. Didn’t even flinch. He just leaned into your touch, like this was normal, like you did this all the time. But you didn’t. Not like this.

Then he kissed the back of your hand, soft and slow, and damn it, you smiled.

“Say what you want,” he murmured.

“I…”

“I don’t care if I’m your dirty little secret,” he cut in, voice rough, low, burning at the edges. “I don’t care about any of it. As long as you’re mine, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

Something shifted inside you—hot, sharp, irreversible. Like a match hitting gasoline.

Bangchan tilted his head, pushing a strand of hair from your face. “What are you so afraid of?” his lips curled into a half-smirk. “You hate me that much?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “I don’t hate you.” your fingers tightened against his jaw. “Not even close.”

Bangchan pulled you in, arms locking tight around your waist, pressing you so close you could feel every breath he took against your skin. A shiver shot down your spine, anticipation curling in your stomach. You were teetering on the edge, seconds away from giving in—giving him everything. And if he was willing to take whatever you had to offer… What was stopping you?

With one swift move, his hands traced up the back of your thighs, fingers pressing into the sensitive skin behind your knees, guiding you onto the bed and onto his lap. The air between you shifted, crackling, something unspoken but heavy settling in the space only you two could understand.

It was automatic—this need, this burn. Like gravity, like the sky being blue, like the way your chemistry was always one spark away from setting the whole place on fire.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, yanking back just enough to force his eyes on you. And God, he looked wrecked—vulnerable in a way that made your stomach flip, pupils blown wide like he’d already lost the battle.

That’s when you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate—a clash of want, frustration, and every second of tension that had built between you. Like a wave crashing against the shore, wild and uncontrollable. You rocked against him, fingers tightening in his hair, barely biting back a moan when his hands gripped your ass, lifting you further into him.

Your skirt had already ridden up, but Bangchan wasn’t complaining.

He knew exactly what he was doing—kissing, nipping at your skin, hitting every spot that made you gasp. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. More contact, more of him.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it up with shaky hands. Bangchan barely hesitated, lifting his arms, muscles flexing as he pulled the fabric over his head. The low, guttural sound that left his lips sent a shiver through you—deep, raw, almost primal. And God, he looked unreal.

“You want me to stop?” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with restraint.

You shook your head immediately, body betraying you with the way it trembled against him.

“I can stop,” he teased, but this time, the possibility made your stomach flip. Your eyes snapped to his, filled with something dangerously close to panic.

Stepping back, just for a second, you took him in. And no matter how many times you’d seen him like this, you never quite got used to it. All of him. Broad, sculpted shoulders, solid arms, every inch of him screaming strength. And all of that was yours.

Bangchan smirked, eyes narrowing with smug satisfaction. “You look like you want something.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving him back. “Shut up.”

But before you could move away, his hands gripped your waist, pulling you down with him. You landed against his chest with a startled yelp, his warmth pressing into you.

Then he kissed you—slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second, every breath, as if the night stretched endless before you, mapping every inch of your lips with his own. Your laughter faded, swallowed by him.

Pinned against him, you could feel the effect you had on him, the heat of him beneath dark denim. And if there was one thing you knew, it was how to push him over the edge.

So you kissed him harder, rolling your hips against his.

His hands flew to your ass, squeezing before delivering a sharp slap that had you moaning into his mouth. That was just how it was with you two—obscene, messy, utterly shameless. And nothing turned you on more.

Your fingers found the zipper of his jeans, finally breaking away from his lips to look down at him. Bangchan pushed up on his elbows, watching you through half-lidded eyes, his breath ragged as he fought to stay still. His fingers twitched, desperate to put an end to the torturous wait. He was so hard it was unbearable—just seeing you like this had him on the edge.

He didn’t hesitate to help, making quick work of what little fabric still separated you. And fuck, you were drenched. Just the sight of him like this—wrecked for you—had your whole body tightening in anticipation.

There were so many ways this could go, and you wanted them all. One night would never be enough.

Your hand wrapped around him, firm, deliberate. A shaky curse tumbled from his lips, his head tipping back as he melted into your touch. He was barely holding it together when you lifted your hips, and for a second, he thought you were going to sink down onto him. Instead, you slid against him, rolling your hips so he could feel everything—dragging over your entrance, teasing up to your clit before sliding back down.

“Holy shit,” Bangchan groaned, voice strangled.

His hands twitched, reaching for you, aching to do something. But before he could, you leaned in, pinning his wrists down against the mattress.

He was at your mercy now. Completely helpless. And he fucking loved it.

Meanwhile, your hips kept moving, sliding over him, teasing but never giving in. The sheer size of him, the way he dragged against your clit with every slick roll of your hips—it was maddening. You lost all sense of rhythm, chasing pleasure in short, frantic motions, needing more, always more.

Bangchan was wrecked beneath you. His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest rising and falling as he groaned through clenched teeth, letting you take what you wanted. And the sight of him like this completely undone because of you? It was enough to make your head spin.

Your wetness mixed with his pre-cum, making a mess between you, the heat of it dizzying. Another deep grunt tore from his throat, and fuck—his orgasm was creeping up way too fast. He wasn’t about to let that happen. Not yet.

Your grip on his wrists loosened, your body trembling above him, so damn close—

“Want me to fuck you?” the words were a rasp, low and filthy against your skin.

And God, hearing him say it like that, made you feel absolutely ruined.

You were right there, wavering on the edge, but then—Bangchan’s hands gripped your waist, flipping you with ease. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he pulled away, standing at the edge of the bed.

For a second, frustration flared hot in your chest—he’d just ripped away a mind-numbing orgasm—but the way he looked at you, eyes dark and full of promise, made it clear.

He wasn’t done. Not even close.

With impressive speed, Bangchan yanked your panties down, leaving you in nothing but that tiny skirt. You reached for your blouse, tearing it off without a second thought. Meanwhile, he fished a condom from his pocket, standing at the foot of the bed like he owned the place.

You bit your lip, taking in the sight of him—so big, so stupidly gorgeous.

Bangchan climbed onto the bed, his strong hands wrapping around your thighs, keeping them pressed together. His voice was low, commanding. "Spread your legs."

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, parting them slowly. The skirt inched higher, higher, until it was bunched up around your waist.

He muttered something under his breath, gaze locked on how wet you were—for him. Almost dripping. You bit your lip, the weight of the moment thick in the air. "Please..."

Bangchan leaned in, kissing your stomach, then up to your chest. One arm braced against the bed, the other gripping himself as he brushed his cock against your cunt. The slow drag, the teasing, was cruel, and he knew it. He was watching you unravel—your body torn between frustration and aching need.

You were this close to grabbing him, to taking what you needed, but before you could, he caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them down.

"I'll let you..." his voice was a husky whisper, dark and full of promise. He kept that agonizing friction going, dragging against you, just enough to drive you insane. "But you have to tell me."

You were burning up, mind hazy, barely able to process his words. "Bangchan," you tried for something firm, but the second the tip of his cock rubbed against your clit—just the right mix of pleasure and frustration—a strangled moan slipped out instead.

"Tell me what you want, and it's yours," he murmured against your lips, smug as ever.

Your gaze met his, dark and needy. He picked up the pace, teasing you mercilessly—only to stop again. You let out a desperate whimper. This was torture.

"Just say it, love."

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, frustration bubbling over. "Your ego is too big."

Bangchan chuckled against your skin, stealing a quick kiss. "You know what else is big?"

You hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him in close. His breath caught, and for a second, he just looked at you—lips parted, eyes searching yours, ready to dive in.

"Guess you'll have to show me."

And Bangchan never turned down a challenge.

The moment he let you go, he was all action—rolling on the condom with practiced ease before yanking you flush against him. "Gonna fuck you so good you'll take it all back."

Then he slammed into you, deep, all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs. Stars burst behind your eyelids. Fuck, you’d never get used to the stretch. And neither would he, not with how tight you clenched around him, inch by inch.

Bangchan started slow, deliberate, watching every little reaction like he was committing it to memory.

"More," you gasped, nails dragging down his back.

And who was he to deny you?

A low, guttural curse slipped from his lips as he gripped the back of your leg, struggling to keep himself in check. But even he was failing. That dark, insatiable hunger inside him wanted to ruin you, break you apart piece by piece, and devour whatever was left.

"Yeah..." his hand found the back of your neck, and in one brutal motion, he buried himself to the hilt. Your eyes rolled back as a cry of pure pleasure ripped from your throat. "Fuck."

He did it again. And again. Testing you. Seeing just how much you could take. And then restraint snapped—his rhythm shifted from slow, deliberate thrusts to deep, relentless strokes that had you gasping, moaning, melting beneath him.

Your lungs fought for air, your body wrecked by the force of him. A tangled mess of curses and broken sounds spilled from your lips.

Bangchan leaned down, catching your mouth in a searing kiss, fucking you through every ragged breath. The filthy, desperate moans leaving his lips had you clinging to him, desperate to consume every last one.

"Bangchan—my God!" your fingers dug into his back like an anchor, but you were weightless, floating, dissolving into nothing.

You tried to pull him closer, but he straightened, still gripping your throat, keeping you right where he wanted.

"Say it." his thrusts were brutal, hitting so deep you thought you’d break apart. Faster. Harder. You cried out, a mess of pleasure and desperation, dizzy on the edge of something devastating."Tell me— you want me? Wanna cum on my cock?"

Your vision blurred, the sheer intensity forcing a tear to the corner of your eye. It was too much, but not enough, never enough.

"I want you," you choked out, voice ragged, shaking. "Fuck—" you barely finished the sentence before your body gave in, collapsing into pure, obliterating pleasure.

Bangchan caught your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it before murmuring against your mouth, “Good girl.”

Then his hand slipped between your bodies, finding your clit as he thrust into you, his fingers moving in tandem with his strokes. And that was it. The tipping point. Your back arched, but he pressed a firm hand to your stomach, pinning you down as pleasure overtook you. The last few thrusts sent you spiraling, your body clenching tight around him as you came hard, waves crashing over you.

Bangchan cursed under his breath, his grip tightening as his own release hit him like a freight train. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—" his whole body tensed, abs flexing as he emptied himself, barely managing to keep from collapsing on top of you.

Your chest rose and fell in sync with his, both of you wrecked, tangled, completely undone. He was so close, his forehead pressing against yours, damp hair sticking to his skin. And just like that, you kissed him—slow, deep, something unspoken passing between you. A shift.

Something had changed, and you both felt it.

"We need to stop doing this," you muttered against his lips.

Bangchan pulled back slightly, his brows knitting together. "What...?"

"Having sex in strangers’ rooms," you teased, the corner of your mouth quirking up. "Bad habit."

Relief flickered across his face before it was replaced by something far more dangerous. "Then let’s go to mine," he said smoothly, his voice thick with intent. "I’m not done with you."

You just laughed, shaking your head as you reached for your clothes. No argument, no teasing comeback—just that breathless, satisfied chuckle that told him you were just as wrecked as he was. And God, he admired you. The way you moved, the way you carried herself, as if what just happened was the most natural thing in the world. Like you hadn’t just left him completely undone.

He leaned back against the bed, watching as you slipped your blouse on, covering up inch by inch what he had just memorized with his hands, his lips, his tongue. A damn shame.

“I could go like this all night,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. His eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate. “I’d never get tired of you.”

You paused for half a second, then, with a smirk, you glanced at him over your shoulder.

“Sweet talk won’t get you another round.”

He grinned, unbothered. “Who said I was asking?”

"Alright, lover boy," you sighed, straightening your skirt. "Call Changbin so we can get out of here before we end up adding ‘breaking and entering’ to our list of bad decisions."

But Bangchan just huffed out a laugh, reaching into his back pocket. You frowned, watching as he pulled out something small, something metallic—

And then he dangled a tiny key in front of your face.

Your breath caught. "You absolute—"

"Had the key the whole time?" he finished for you, grinning like the unapologetic menace he was.

You just stared at him, utterly gagged. "Are you telling me we could’ve left at any time—and you let me believe we were locked in here?!"

Bangchan had the audacity to laugh, and before you could get a single word of protest out, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you against him and crashing his lips onto yours. You let him. You melted into it, kissed him back like you weren’t even a little mad.

When he finally pulled away, his breath ghosted over your lips as he murmured, "I’m sorry, baby." But he was still laughing. Not sorry at all.

"No, you’re not," you shot back, trying—and failing—to sound pissed.

"You’re right," he admitted without shame, pressing another kiss to your mouth, slower this time, smug and indulgent. "But, in my defense… I knew you wanted me just as bad as I wanted you."

You narrowed your eyes, heat licking at your spine because—damn it—he wasn’t wrong.

Cocky bastard.

Still, you snatched the key from his fingers and shoved him toward the door. "Move before I leave your ass locked in here and tell everyone you cried for help."

Bangchan just smirked, twisting the doorknob with infuriating ease. "Joke’s on you—I’d make it sound sexy."

Bangchan slipped out first, leaving you alone in the dimly lit bedroom, the air still thick with everything that just happened. You took a breath, running a hand through your hair and letting out a low, incredulous laugh. Insane. That was the only word for it. Completely, absolutely, batshit insane.

You took your time freshening up before heading downstairs, blending back into the party like nothing happened—like your whole world hadn’t just been flipped on its head by a cocky bastard with unfairly good hands.

You found the drinks and poured yourself a beer, the cold liquid grounding you, when Hyunjin appeared at your side, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Mingyu was looking for you,” he said, tilting his head. “For a while. Then he gave up and left.”

You took a slow sip of your beer, carefully masking any reaction. “Huh. Tragic.”

Hyunjin squinted. “Okay, where the hell have you been?”

You shot him an easy smirk. “In the bathroom, Hyunjin. I have bodily functions like every other human being.”

His eyes narrowed further. “For that long?”

“Maybe I got lost,” you said with a shrug, taking another sip. “Or maybe I was reevaluating all my life choices.”

Hyunjin was still staring at you, unconvinced. “You were with someone.”

You huffed. “Stop being nosy and dance with me.”

Before he could pry any further, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the dance floor. The bass thumped through your veins as you moved to the beat, thankful for the temporary distraction. But Hyunjin was sharp—too sharp. His gaze flickered to something over your shoulder, and then his lips parted in realization.

You didn’t have to turn around to know. You felt it.

Bangchan was across the room, talking to Changbin and Seungmin like he hadn’t just been inside you not too long ago. But the way he looked at you—steady, knowing, like he was still feeling every second of what just happened—Hyunjin caught it immediately.

“No way.” he gaped at you. “You didn’t.”

You met his stare, unfazed. “I did.”

Hyunjin groaned, rubbing his face like this was his personal crisis. “You two are so fucking messy.”

You just laughed, finishing the rest of your beer. “And yet, I’m having a great time.”

A while later, when you finally decided you’d had enough social interaction for one night, you nudged Hyunjin. “I’m heading out.”

He nodded. “Cool, I’ll get you an Uber. I’ll go with Lix.”

Before you could even reach for your phone, a familiar voice interrupted. “No need.”

Bangchan. Standing way too close, hands in his pockets, looking like the devil who got exactly what he wanted.

“I’m driving back,” he said smoothly. “I’ll take you.”

Your mouth opened, but Hyunjin’s eyebrow was already rising, looking between the two of you like he had front-row seats to a drama he needed to see play out.

“I can go alone,” you said, keeping your voice level.

Bangchan smirked. “I insist.”

You sighed, side-eyeing Hyunjin. His expression was nothing short of feral with interest.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But no funny business.”

Bangchan only chuckled, walking off first. You lingered behind for a few beats before following, slipping out quietly, only Hyunjin watching your exit with a smug, entertained look.

He was never letting you live this down.

The night air was sharp against your flushed skin, a cruel contrast to the heat still licking at your nerves. Bangchan stood by his car—a sleek, black beauty that suited him too well. Under the dim glow of the streetlights, he looked almost unreal, all sharp lines and confidence as he pulled the passenger door open, his gaze never leaving yours.

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to get in. But because you knew—the second you did, there’d be no turning back from whatever the hell this was becoming.

Bangchan saw right through you. He always did.

His voice dipped low, rough with amusement. “Get in, baby. Or I’ll put you in myself.”

Your stomach flipped. You rolled your eyes, masking the way his words sent a pulse of heat straight through you. “Such a gentleman,” you muttered, but your lips twitched, betraying you.

Still, you slid into the seat, the cool leather kissing your bare thighs. He followed, reaching over—closer, closer—until his fingers brushed the seatbelt, tugging it across you.

And suddenly, the air inside the car felt thick. Heavy.

His breath ghosted over your collarbone, close enough that his lips could’ve skimmed your skin if you so much as moved. You could feel the warmth of him, the way his fingers lingered just a second too long before clicking the buckle into place.

Your throat went dry.

You cleared it quickly, forcing out something—anything—to cut through the tension threatening to swallow you whole. “I’m exhausted.”

He pulled back just enough to smirk. “Sure you are.”

The car hummed to life, but your brain? It was shot to hell.

Because now you had to sit there and endure the sight of him driving one-handed, muscles flexing, veins peeking through his skin like temptation itself. It was obscene, the way he handled the car—like he did everything else. With control. With ease.

You swallowed, shifting in your seat, pressing your legs together.

Bangchan noticed. Of course, he did.

His smirk deepened, eyes flicking toward you before drifting back to the road. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, voice far too even to be convincing.

He made a sound, low in his throat, clearly unconvinced. Then, like he lived to ruin you, his hand dropped to your thigh—warm, steady, fingers pressing just enough to make you feel it.

Your breath hitched. “Bangchan.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough to let you catch the edge of his scent—clean, intoxicating, laced with something that made your pulse stutter. His thumb stroked slow, lazy circles against your skin.

“You’re always ready for me, aren’t you?” his voice was nothing but a taunt, silk-wrapped sin.

A shiver licked down your spine. The worst part? He was right. And he fucking knew it.

His fingers crept higher, brushing against the inside of your thigh, deliberate and slow. “I could fuck you right here,” he murmured, his breath feather-light against your ear. “No one would see. No one would know.”

Your body responded before your brain did, every nerve alight, screaming at you to let this happen.

But you had to be smart. For once.

With every ounce of restraint you had left, you grabbed his wrist, halting his movements before they ruined you completely. “I have to go.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, eyes dark, unreadable. Then, his lips curled—not in disappointment, but something far more dangerous.

“Fine.”

But before you could breathe, before you could move, he reached for you, tilting your chin up with maddening ease. His gaze locked onto yours, deep and knowing, before his tongue swept over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, claiming.

Then he kissed you. Deep. Slow. Devastating.

By the time he pulled away, you were wrecked. Breathless.

“Goodnight, baby,” he murmured, unlocking the door like he hadn’t just unraveled you in a single move.

You barely remembered getting out, legs weaker than they had any right to be. As you walked back to your dorm, dazed and burning, one thought rattled through your skull like a warning you’d never heed:

He’s gonna be the death of me.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4@chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf @ebnabi @wickedbutlovely @bitchysunflower11 @grandpasb0ng

[ranticore]

no matter how many times pascal changes, seeing him always be some kind of messed up centaur brings me immense joy

he's extremely serious about being a horse

i then did a massive ramble in the tags and realised i should just put it in the post body so here are my tags pasted for your pleasure:

it's more integral to him than my other horse themed characters even puck lol. but i was thinking about it recently. how much can i distill away until all that remains is just the bare essence of a character.. all else could change but if this essence changed then that would not be him. for pascal it's not necessarily Being A Horse (thus why he also works well as a big harpy). it's being something large and dangerous but not like a wild animal is. by which i mean he is not being contained by bars or ropes. if he chose to hurt you, you couldn't stop him. but the thing that holds him back is his need to please One other person who, ultimately, could not actually stop him in any meaningful way. and it's interesting to me as someone who spent a lot of time in stables. how ppl would treat the stallion like a ticking time bomb like a violent monster who never got the same level of attention b/c he was assumed dangerous but that's still a domesticated animal who's day could be made with the right treat and some tlc. Anyways. wow these tags

it was something i explored in ironwall a lot. and for him in particular his attitude problems arise from being a beast of burden who is nonetheless nearly always the most threatening person in the room just by virtue of what he is. he can talk to u however he likes. what are u gonna do fight back?? he's like 8 feet tall. he's 18.5hh. so he can get away with shit other people don't get away with and it's how he develops his own streak of unchecked pushy nastiness. aka: he is, behaviourally, like a horse; you can sit in the saddle and make him do whatever you like but we're all very aware that you're only there because he hasn't thrown you yet.

[mimble-sparklepudding]

I will add a few suggestions - but I will try to limit myself to ones that haven't already been mentioned. Please bear in mind that these are examples and not being mentioned on this occasion does not mean I don't think that other blogs are not equally worthy of note!

@spotofmummery - one of the best OC (don't quibble) blogs on Tumblr. Fantastic writing, gposing and highly entertaining shenanigans. Who needs sex and violence when you can have snakes and violins? Plus they are supportive, encouraging and splendid across all metrics.

@starrysnowdrop - fantastic Lalafell representation. Beautiful gposes and amazing writing. Also thoroughly nice to interact with and kind to others. Currently exploring new creative horizons, which I am excited to witness.

@kskellington - home to a dizzingly large number of OCs, including Kwas, who is one of the most unique characters you're ever likely to encounter. Very fun and thought-provoking content and a great mutual.

@dragonsongmakhali - arguably some of the best gposes I have ever seen in my whole life, to the point I thought they were official art. Plus encouraging and uplifting in every interaction, even when times are hard.

@furys-mercy - one of the few people who can rival the previous blog in terms of gpose talent, but executed in their own unique and striking style. And also very nice (check out their latest RP venture).

@osric-giroux-ffxiv - one of the most complex and three-dimensional OCs on Tumblr, with a really well-developed backstory and narrative journey. Detailed responses to asks, even the weird ones (some of which I sent, but not all!). Looking for RP connections so go connect!

@kannedia - another multi-OC blog, with some very different characters, but all interesting and well-realised. Very fun to engage with and learn more about each of these OCs.

@adrienvalmont - a very experienced RPer (is that a word?) with a very intriguing character with all sort of interesting connections and complications. Despite (or perhaps because) of their talent, they are very nice to interact with and supportive of others.

@pumpkinmagekupo - not only is this a blog with excellent writing and a wonderful OC, they also put up with me dragging them to various in-game events and plying them with hot chocolate. Also the gposes - they are fantastic.

@yzeltia - definitely a blog that's inspired me to improve my writing, although I doubt that it will ever reach their standard! So many characters, but they are all really engaging and frequently highly entertaining.

@houserosaire - probably one of the most canon-compliant and well-researched OC blogs on Tumblr. I feel like I learn something new about Ishgard every time I see one of their posts. Plus the writing and the gposes are superb - definitely a knight you'd spend all day with.

@orime-stories / @orime-eorzea - as recently celebrated in a recent Lalafellin Limerick so you know it's got to be good! Lots of atmospheric and aesthetic posts, as well as two of the best OCs on Tumblr, with many screenshots and gposes.

@nobutakafairclough - basically an RP coach and FFXIV journalist. Has a podcast, a Youtube channel and a blog and they are all excellent. A really helpful and enthusiastic person who deserves much more attention for their work on here and elsewhere. Please check out their stuff!

@irisopranta - most memorable of rarepairs, with great writing, pretty screenshots and a thriving weaving and haberdashery business!

@saeta - cute art from an incredibly talented artist, but don't let that distract you from the other great things to be found on this blog, including the beautiful gposes.

@talion-graves - mostly a gpose and inspiration blog, but what a gpose and inspiration blog. You may feel the need for a brisk run around the playing fields and a cold shower after this one.

@kaitontenchu - one of the best WoLship blogs to be found anywhere, by turns cute, moving and hilarious. Another very fun perspective on Ishgard as well.

@hikinghydaelyn - something a little different. A concept blog (like a concept album, but like, a blog) about a little hiker and his journey across the world (and maybe one day beyond). Perhaps you will meet this OC on his journey and become a part of his unfolding story?

@cadrenebula - one of the first blogs I ever followed and still one of the best. I'm not sure they quite win the "most OCs ever to be found on one blog” contest", but they are certainly in with a chance at the prize for "the most individually detailed OCs in a blog with lots of OCs in it". Honestly, each one is more detailed and better realised than I could ever manage with just a single OC. All the writing, all the screenshots - go check them out!

@tanktechnician - After an Ala Mhigan Miqo'te OC with a strong personality and a compelling story? You've come to the right place! A really enjoyable blog to follow, with lots of ongoing character development.

OK I have to stop now, it's 3:30am, but know that this is just a snapshot of some fantastic blogs and there are many I wish I could have included, but I'm falling asleep...

SHAMELESS PLUGGING - FFXIV STYLE!

It's that time of year again! Here are just a FEW of the amazing blogs available to follow in the FFXIV community here on Tumblr! (A lot of them can also be found on Bluesky--two for one shot!) If you're not following them, YOU SHOULD BE!

@lynxden -- gorgeous shots, amazing information on lion dancing and the history of it, even some goddamn STOP MOTION ANIMATION with FFXIV screenshots, that is astounding.

@coldshrugs -- a gorgeous WoL and some absolutely amazing screenshots, I am just... *sigh*

@darcar -- a Viera as pretty as Anna (and I rarely say that...)

@cerbaros -- the GPose just gets better and better and BETTER...!

@zylphiacrowley -- ever wanted to go through the MSQ in graphic novel format? Zyl's got you covered.

@mist-touchedxiv -- come get you some Viera lore theorizing and some really interesting backstory!

@abyssalmermaiden -- legit I wonder what people drink to come up with such absolutely fucking cool character ideas...

@iron-sparrow -- why are you not following them? Why are you not following them? YOU'RE MISSING YEIN!

@ink-dreams-ffxiv -- the fishercatte is so CUTE!

@oneiroy -- not only do they put up some hella good mods, they take AMAZING shots.

@verysmallcyborg -- and if you follow Ryss, you have to follow Fornax so you can get the complete "butches in love" package!

@nolanel-corbeaux -- you will meet the skink and you will thank me for directing you to this one.

@ser-corviknight -- Avery has such FUN characters and one of the most unique WoLs I've ever seen.

@ahollowgrave -- I will always and forever push more people to follow Odette.

@feralkwe -- watching Feral get into GPose crimes is almost as delightful as reading their fanfic.

@arty-ffxiv -- when you meet Kupa, you'll wonder why it took so long to follow.

@drownedlight - this is really just a gateway to their AO3 page, but I know the fanfic will lure in just... OH so many...

@sezja -- a violet Hrothgal is the first beauty to greet you, isn't that a delight???

DO YOU KNOW MORE??? ADD MORE!!! GIVE ME MORE WONDERFUL, TALENTED PEOPLE TO FOLLOW!!!

(Like you @luck-and-larceny I see you posting more Malika lately...!)

[n0eyed-taissa]

#thinking about mari nolastname and her cave antics with coach ben today...season 3 hater turned hostage arc is the most character development we have gotten for her maybe ever? lol

i know that yjtwt / tumblr / tiktok are all pointing out the comment she makes about there being two realities, two timelines in which the bad AND the good memories and experiences coexist, but im fixated specifically her anecdote about spending time with her 4 year old cousin who had brain cancer? and how 12 year old mari was with her when she died.

(i did some digging to see what show she could've been talking about and the one nickelodeon show i could find with puppets AND dragons was a show called 'eureeka's castle' which is also making my brain alarms sound off, but more on that later)

mari is essentially telling coach ben about her lack of reaction to the event? there's no mention of comfort for her being the one to witness the death, no, 12 year old mari had to wait by herself in the waiting room until her parents came and got her. but her highlighting the fact that she finished the episode of tv that she had started makes me think its a purposeful? a nod to morality and the capacity for cruelty / ability to withstand it? like its a quality that all of the girls on the team had within them, even before the crash. for most of the girls on the show, misfortune is second nature and evil is a force that is familiar, or one has been lurking around corners and behind closed doors for so long that they can't even be bothered by its presence.

"i think maybe there are two versions of reality. most of the time, the other one -- the bad one, is just hiding...or waiting. but it's all real"

in mari's story, its almost framed like the death of her cousin was a mild annoyance, an inconvenient pause button between her and finishing her episode of television. cousins die too young and sometimes to shield you from even more trauma, sometimes you become more isolated. memory is subjective. we sometimes compartmentalize our experiences to make them easier to process. when you've been exposed to your fair share of misfortune, you're taking the good with the bad and the bad with the good. there's always one within the other. this idea is present in the trauma of all of the yellowjackets (mari and her cousin, tai and her grandmother, natalie and her dad). maybe they turned out this way because of these circumstances that were out of their control. but maybe they always had this capacity for cruelty and the wilderness simply brought it out in them.

[noneatnonedotcom]

behold my ultimate creation! autism knight!

simply put it's jaune but instead of being based on joan of arc he's based on the nameless knights of fairytales and arthuriana.

he'll work in any au, basic idea is he's a really good knight but he's got no idea what's going on in the deeper plot, he's just interested in being a really good knight and helping people then leaving to help others.

dude's got knight autism.

this can also work for characters like pyrrha or ruby.

Peerless: (800CP) The knights of Britain are renown for their skill, power and honour. The knights of the Round Table exemplify Britain’s virtues to an even greater extent. You? Lancelot at his height is the only one you can call a peer and he doesn’t remain there for long. Few men are as perfectly well rounded as you. Your physical abilities are enough that you could fight powerful adult dragons and demons to a draw with your bare hands or even win if you added a good weapon to your side. You’ve got unbelievable levels of martial skill in both offense and defense, across two dozen kinds of weapons, such that even without your physical abilities being so great you could slay armies. You have strategic and tactical abilities that let you lead small forces to crush far larger ones and can even make a good substitute for a king if your liege needs to spend a few months away at war, though you are far below the sort of king that can create a golden age. You have a high level of natural talent at any skill or ability you try your hand at and find it very easy to learn and train to become better at new things, quickly surpassing even the most venerable of warriors in their specialties. Of course, you would not be peerless if you did not also look the part. Among all the men in the world, only the divine could outmatch your physical splendour and even then, only by a touch. Your king might frown on the hordes of maidens that lust after you but you really can’t help it, as you gather admirers and love interests even when fully armoured and masked. Just something about you.

Mysterious: (100CP) "Enigmatic, mysterious, people stop to stare and have no idea why. There's just something strange, different about you, at least after you get your hands on this perk. Upon purchase, you gain an air of mystery that makes others curious and questioning about you, like there's always another layer to your character or something buried further down that you're hiding.

You also become good at maintaining it.

If you act up front and casual, then people just might be a bit curious about you. If you really go all in on being mysterious, you may develop into a kind of small urban legend or have a profile in some intelligence gathering agencies."

Can’t Read My: (100CP) You got one hell of a poker face. You could be having a mind shattering meltdown while appearing outwardly as perfectly composed and well mannered to the extent even the Cloudy Sword Sect would be impressed. This is also somehow genetic, meaning your kids will be equally as good at containing their inner freakouts behind a face of serenity.

the basic idea is taking the mysterious badass and turning it on it's head. the person with these powers can't be read in any way, can't be predicted as a result. and has the skills and physical abilities to always win no matter what situation they end up in!

... they just havn't been paying attention and have no idea that they've been foiling the same bad guy's plans for the last six months and now secret relics are getting involved and magic is real I guess and why the fuck is this all spiraling out of control?

what the fuck even is aura!?!?

also why is everyone coming onto them? they just wanna save people from evil is that too much to ask?

whichever character you make the autism knight will gain unfathomable abilities but at the cost of forever not knowing what's going on and everyone assuming it was all going to their keikaku (keikaku means plan)

thoughts on which character you'd make the autism knight? it can be from any media it's a very versatile character.

@howlingday @weatherman667

@heliosthegriffin why does this feel like the shadow knight if he was OP instead of barely scrapping by? like in an au where jaune had amazing abilities from the beginning he just never bothered to look deeper into things and kept saving the day never knowing that he was becoming enemy number 1 for the forces of evil.

[utilitycaster]

Do you think campaign 3 suffered a bit too much from the chaotic neutral/stupid "it's what my character would do!!" mentality from the PCs? As someone who both DMs and plays, when I'm a player I always try to exhibit a serious interest in the story my DM is trying to tell no matter what I'm playing, because I KNOW how much time and effort it takes to DM a long form campaign. It feels like Matt tried to give them an inch and they took a mile. Like I know they're friends, but if that was *my* group I was DMing for I'd straight up be pissed about how they were interacting with the story (I mean I probably would've scrapped it halfway through but I also know that wasn't an option for Matt).

I actually disagree and in retrospect, put the bulk of the issues in Campaign 3 on Matt; not so much in an accusatory way so much as a "I think you really needed to take an extended break before this story and have put much more effort."

It is very true that you can have players who don't want to play the story you are telling, and that's on them; however, that is only the player's fault when they were given guidance on the campaign/got the vibe of the table and refused to listen. I've been really vocal in the past about that one D&D post that goes around in which someone talks about playing a nonviolent cleric who resurrects everyone the party kills because it's like...my own belief that if you want nonviolent D&D you actually want a TTRPG that isn't combat-focused aside, this isn't what your table wants and you are actually being more of an asshole by going against the table's vibe than by doing pretend violence. However, for example, I run Netherdeep and I play in a game inspired by but not specifically Curse of Strahd, and this is vital information that I shared with my players/was shared with me by my DM prior to character creation. If I hadn't told my players anything other than "make a character from Wildemount" and they had developed an extensive backstory on the Menagerie coast that they expected me to run with, and instead the story was about following the path of an amulet to an entirely different part of the continent and then a different continent altogether? They'd be right to be confused and annoyed! A big part of the problem is I can't fault people for playing their characters when they spent the first 30-ish episodes unaware for sure that this was The Moon Campaign and probably the first 50-ish episodes unaware that this was Exclusively The Moon Campaign. That's a quarter to a third of the campaign of playing and developing a character without the intent of being in this very specific game! I posted about Fearne last week, and honestly, despite how fucked over she was by the narrative she became one of my favorite characters for that reason, ie, I do think Ashley played her truthfully and in a compelling way.

So actually I find the opposite is true. I think a lot of the cast came to the table in good faith and found that the effort they'd put into backstories with compelling hooks for what they were told would be a pulpier and deadlier campaign was largely abandoned in favor of a moon plot that was neither. If I were a player, I would be pretty annoyed at the DM! I think the cast tried their best to engage with a plot that was very much not designed around most of their characters and/or demanded very specific things from their characters that were not what they had envisioned, and were given insufficient guidance to boot. I do agree that ideally they would have had some kind of mid-campaign realization and subsequent discussion and perhaps, if not scrapped it, at least maybe decided to play different characters voluntarily, or otherwise amicably divided "The Story Of Bells Hells" and "The Moon Plot That Was The Driving Purpose Of Campaign 3" into two separate works.

I think something important that came up in the criticism of C3 and the pushback as well is that amount of effort does not mean something is necessarily good and worthwhile; sometimes a meticulously plotted campaign concept into which the DM put tons of effort is just not what the players wanted nor were prepared for, and that does to me mean it's not as good as an off the cuff minimal prep West Marches campaign if that's what everyone at the table wanted. You should be respectful of the DM's effort and recall they are a player; but part of that is saying "hey, I feel like I'm lost and that this story really isn't what I expected, can we regroup?" No one is, to be clear, an asshole or villain here, and there are a number of complicating factors throughout the story; but I do think Matt not prepping the players is the singular biggest issue with C3, and most of the issues with the finale were his as well.

[kiwi-luminaryofthestars]

02/20/2025 “Fiction and Feast” Progress Update:

Eyyy we finished editing section two of the first chapter. One more to go! We're at about 11K for the first chapter right now, anticipating maybe close to 13K for the final. Then the whole two-shot will likely be about 25K-ish in total. Certifiable yapper, that's me!

Was not feeling well and ALSO both of my eyes started to swell (love it so much, thank you body!!!!!!) so I ended up staying home from both jobs. Off-days are always a love-hate relationship for me, because on the one hand, I'm like "Yes! More time to write!" and on the other hand, I know I should probably actually rest lol. So I tried to do both: slept for a while; read some mutuals' fanfics (still making my way through Poor Unfortunate Souls and my my my I didn't know how much I needed a mermaid AU in my life until now); theeeen I wrote, hence the finished section.

Void journal time lol. Shut me up, honestly, what am I even talking about half the time. Today it's writing-related, though, so cool!

It's been raining the majority of the day (which isn't abnormal, it's the season) but it got me reminiscing about childhood writing days. As I've probably made abundantly clear, fanfiction is new territory for me, as is ao3, tumblr, and really everything else lol. But I have always always always loved to write. Writing has been a beacon of light my entire life. I used to carry a notebook around everywhere I went from elementary school all the way up to high school just writing what I saw. My favorite place to write, though, was inside a pink-roofed dollhouse in my mom's backyard, and it had such a distinct sound when it was raining. I've learned as an adult it was just the sound of hollow plastic, but I always think about it when it rains like this.

Short stories are my forte; I've written a lot of them. This is the first time I'm diving into long, complex stories, and I think one of the consequences is I try to have a lot of things happen in the narrative all at once. You don't get a lot of time to establish a world or characters or really anything in a short story; you gotta throw yourself right into it. So I apologize if much of the Phantom Thief AU feels like it's moving so fast, at least in terms of Shuichi and Kokichi's relationship developing. I say slow-burn, and I do mean it, but I think this slow-burn is more "slow-burn toward the relationship where lies stop happening".

Sometimes I feel like I'm a bit too self-indulgent when I reveal things like that. Know I don't consider myself a fucking fantastic writer by any means, probably exactly the opposite lol. I'm always desperate to improve. There are some fics I've read these past few weeks where I both SQUEAL at how well it's written, and then despair because hot damn I wish I could write like that. I haven't finished reading this one yet but an example is "so tonight that i might see" by avii, a komahina fic about Nagito waking up from the Neo World Program without any memory of it. And just what EXQUISITE prose this person has, oh my Lord. I'd like to include a snippet from the third chapter that just GETS me:

"[Nagito] watched the way the water pushed and pulled in upon itself. He listened to the waves grow and collapse. He was not the most symbolic of men, not by a long shot, but he thought the ocean must be the greatest thing to ever exist. It was hauntingly beautiful, but not only that, it was powerful. What else could have the might to all at once be so destructive, and yet stand so serene? It blanketed the planet, even dying as the planet was, expanding out to the very edges of its reach. So shallow, and yet so deep. If he were to walk in, breathe that water in, and let it carry him out, he'd never be found again. It would be thrilling. It would, in a way, maybe even be poetic."

Just... WOW. So lovely. Eat me up and chew me out so I may be branded with this level of talent. I want to describe everything so beautifully like that.

Anyway, sorry this one's long again. Ahhh but you should expect it from me by now. Everything is long with me, it's just how it goes.

I hope you have a lovely night. And I HOPE my eyes stop swelling tomorrow. This weekend will not be super open for writing (ugh) but I will still try to get this silly thing done by then so you can read my intensely experimental vampire saiouma fic. Uhhh hopefully it's a good experimental?? We'll see, we'll see. Either way it's been fun to write, so that's all that matters.

[trash-ainu]

Oh my gosh, thank you for tagging me @perlen-gold!

So I took some time, sat down, and went through your works, so I could come back with some specific compliments as well as examples of what I think you do really well! :3

❤️ I love how illustrative and imaginal your writing is! You mention you work meticulously on each stentence, and it shows -- because not only are they beautifully worded, they are also rich and very evocative. For example, I noticed that one way you contribute to that expressiveness, is by using strings of really original compound adjectives (from one of your works, i jotted down "ink-soft lace," "iron-veiled flanks" and "gold-leaping warmth" as examples!) I think they're really well constructed, and with your other poetic word choices and methaphors, it paints a vivid image of the story in a reader's mind :3 Not only that, you manage to do this in a way that doesn't make the sentences feel over-crowded and too long -- and I feel like that is a great achivement on your part and something you should defintely be proud of! ❤️ You've got a good grasp on your flow and pacing. Now, I feel like it is marginally harder to get good pacing in works that are written in styles that lean towards ornate and poetic. What comes to my mind is classical literature -- but there, elaborate language was often used in order to stall the action and slow the pacing. And yet, I feel like you are able to maintain a good flow, despite the fact you write in a poetic way. This makes things written in your style feel borderline ballad/poem-like, and I think it's ultimately what makes your style original and distinct! ❤️ The way you handle first person POV is great. Personally, I tend to struggle with writing in first person a lot, and I have absolutely no talent for it, so I have less insighful remarks to give about it X'DDDD But it's all the more reason for me to praise you for it, because you manage to deliver a great story directly through a character's eyes, in a way that is engaging and fun to read :3 Phew... I may have... gotten a bit over-excited about conducting a literary analysis, I hope that's okay😅😅

Alright -- now a compliment for myself? Hmm...

I feel like I'm good with characterisation? Digging into the psychology of characters and finding ways to show who they are in the story has always been the most enjoyable element of writing to me. This led to me working on a lot of character studies, so I developed that part of my writing skillzz kinda naturally 😆 On top of that, I play a lot of tabletop RPGs, and those are mostly about finding ways to interact with the world in an in-character way, so... yeah!

Omg, okay, I don't really have many writing friends here, much less writing friends that share their writing, or are familiar with mine, so ahkjfdgdh With absolutely zero pressure to do this, imma tag:

@winds-of-zephyr416, @dragonofmordor, @mai-komagata, @skaelds, and @kanskje-kaffe

And, of course, if this is something anybody else wants to take part in, feel more than free to!❤️❤️

I want to do a compliment exercise. I got the idea from a poll I saw.

First, vote on this poll:

Now, reblog and tag 5 writers that you would want to see do this (no pressure, of course)... and in your CAPTION (not tags), give 3 compliments to the person you reblogged this from's writing. In your TAGS (not caption), put what your answer was.

Give yourself at least one writing compliment too, while you're at it.

If you reblog it from me, don't worry about doing the compliments since almost none of you have actually read my writing (if any of you have 😅).

If you really want to do the compliments for me, you can compliment something else but it isn't necessary when reblogging from the original source.

Let's get a compliment/positivity/love thread going. ❤️

[two-sheep-in-one-wolfs-clothing]

being a httyd fan means loving httyd1 toothless and hating rtte toothless

[sukibenders]

Glinda mentions to Elphaba how Fiyero can't stop thinking about that moment in Dillamond's class, or that he's having thoughts in general and how it worries her because it's not something she's used to from him (which is him thinking about actual things), in contrast to Elphaba, who doesn't seem all that bothered and, even more so interested in the manner when Fiyero brings up how he can't stop thinking about when they rescued the lion cub. I don't know about everyone else but for me, even with this scene probably being added for lighthearted value, I also see it as another piece in the puzzle cementing how Fiyero's and Glinda's actions will, eventually, either pull them closer or further away from Elphaba. I lowkey don't like it when people act surprised or confused as to why Glinda was spelled or get annoyed that Fiyero is in her place but I, personally, don't think she would have helped in that moment, specifically in the movie.

Prior to the train scene, Glinda is shown to, not only, be completely rude and spoiled (as shown with her literally fainting over not getting her way), when in class, she publicly points out Dillamond's inability to pronounce her name correctly even though it's an obvious struggle, parading in front of the class how easier it was for her other teachers to do it, then being dismissive during the rest of the lesson when learning the importance of history and why to learn from it (correct me if I'm wrong, as it has been a minute since I've seen the movie). All that already tells me that she doesn't really care for the animals' cause, let alone enough to follow Elphaba and Fiyero into the woods after stealing the lion cub and I think, subconsciously, Elphaba knew that. In fact, I can only see Glinda trying to sway them to leave the cub and how what their new professor wanted to teach probably wasn't all that bad (not saying that she would want the cub to be harmed, just that she would try to rationalize what's going as we've seen her do before). This is the same woman who, after learning that the Wizard was a fraud and responsible for the missing and harmed animals, still tried to justify his actions and berated Elphaba for not "acting accordingly" to the news, but yet we still think she should have been there to save the lion cub? That she would have helped those animals alongside Fiyero and Elphaba? I think it could allude to how Glinda could/will be used to help further push propaganda for the Wizard, especially given how it benefits her socially, as figures of propaganda often don't think too hard, or enough to critique the system around them not because they aren't smart enough too (for the most part), but more so because they understand how their world works and understand the consequences that follow when stepping out of line.

You don't have to like Fiyeraba or even find Fiyero interesting, but to purposely ignore what the movie is presenting you is such a cop-out. Fiyero enters the film being a sort of anti-establishment-like character, caring little if he gets kicked out of Shiz for breaking the rules, or just hardly caring in general (something Elphaba calls him out for), and so on. Why wouldn't he be down to rescue the lion? Even if it was to just feed his rebellious streak, he still would have gone, but when he and Elphaba meet, he's on a talking horse and they are conversing like lifelong friends. That might add another layer to the pair saving the lion. Even if he wasn't on the same level as Elphaba at that moment, the train scene shows that it had a profound impact on him that he couldn't shake. I think, had he been presented with the choice of joining Elphaba or staying, he would have gone, not only for her but also because he now knows that the Wizard is a fraud and most definitely wouldn't stand for what he [Oz] is doing. This is what sets him apart from Glinda which, isn't necessarily me hating on her but just stating facts. Glinda isn't/won't be willing to sacrifice her position and what it brings her, until it's too late (which is the tragedy of her character and her relationship with Elphaba), while Fiyero risks everything, even to some extent his own body (Scarecrow) and, in the end, gets to stand with Elphaba.

[nabaath-areng]

I have way too many alts that I keep to myself (which is why I generally refrain from posting them), but I'm going to ignore that habit for a moment just because I'm feeling particularly insane about this guy.

[bekkachaos]

@hippolotamus 100% agree with all your tags! Like would I like buddie to be canon? Of course I would! Do I want them to force it? No, I don't. I think now is the perfect time to introduce that "will they won't they" even if it takes a whole season for anything to happen, the build up should start now.

And also if they don't go down that route I could be completely satisfied with that, as long as they don't try and force anything that feels unnatural or like they're trying to wrap it up in some neat little "everyone gets love" bow like they did at the end of season 6, because that just felt like they were trying to wrap up and say "yeah look they got somebody and they're happy" just in case they didn't renew. If that had been the end I personally would have been so unsatisfied.

I would be actually totally happy if the series ended and Eddie was not in a relationship with anyone and he was with Chris and he was happy, it's been shown a number of times that he doesn't need to be in a relationship to find happiness and I think that would be very true to his character (hello demi coded Eddie I see you!)

With Buck, I do think that if they're not going to go down the love interest path with Eddie, they really need to introduce somebody now that they can build a relationship with. That's not "they saw each other in this episode and then the next episode they're dating" like bring somebody in who is going to build and develop and I don't care if that's a man or a woman, but we know that Buck wants love and he wants somebody to share his life with. So if they're going to bring a love interest in for him, they need to give them the proper character development they need to make it satisfying and not just toss him in with the next attractive guest star.

Anyway, I'm sorry I just have so many feelings about this and they must be shared

*buddie rant incoming*

The thing is right, so many shows have found it hard to introduce love interests for established characters when those love interests haven't been part of the show previously or for a decent amount of time before becoming the LI. Especially on long-running shows (I'm talking five plus seasons). Because the established characters are so fleshed out and have so many facets to them, introducing new love interests out of nowhere that have no history in the show seems out of place. That's why Tommy worked better than most of the other love interests they've tried to bring in for Buck or Eddie, because at least he had roots in the show prior to being considered as a LI.

All of the other characters have had the same love interest either from the pilot (Hen and Karen) Or are established by season 2 with another main (Bobby and Athena & Chimney and Maddie). Eddie and Maddie might not have been in the first season, but they were introduced early enough as main characters and given the kind of story progression and character development that they needed outside of being there only to progress the story of another character.

Now you might throw out the old "it worked in shows like Grey's Anatomy" and yeah, you'd be right, but in shows like Grey's there were multiple lead characters who were single and dating as well as more established couples or 'will-they-wont-theys'. In 911 the only lead characters who are single and haven't been romantically tied to one other character for the duration of their run or multiple seasons, are Buck and Eddie.

Out of all Buck's love interests, Taylor had previously been given the most backstory, but it always felt like we weren't supposed to be invested in them because it was made to seem like she was always going to put her job over Buck and that he had more trust and stability in his friendships (with Eddie especially). In season 1, Abby wasn't a love interest for Buck. It was the other way around because she was the main character, he was the one serving a purpose for her before she left and then her leaving was a catalyst for him. Ali, we barely got anything for, never really learnt much about her, she was an empty love interest much the same as Marisol was for Eddie. Because the thing in common with both of those is that we see the very early hints of dating and then the next time you see those characters they are in established relationships, we've got to see none of the getting to know each other phase, never get attached to the LI. Our main characters have gotten to do that behind the scenes but the audience doesn't get to engage so we don't really care about them. I'm not even going to start on Shannon, that's a whole other post on its own.

Another big problem is that because Buck and Eddie haven't had stable love interests with longevity, their friendship and partnership has been parallelled to the other main characters and their relationships (all of which being romantic pairings). We see that they can form deep and meaningful relationships because they have that with one another, but no other relationships they've been in that we've seen has had the same kind of unconditional "I'm there for you no matter what and I know you're there for me even when I'm wrong" kind of feeling. They've all been rushed or superficial.

Basically, trying to introduce someone for either of them now is going to feel so shallow and out of place compared to the other relationships in the show and compared to what they both deserve in terms of love and a partner.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[themyscirah]

Complaining abt Suicide Squad yet again but the fact that they have Waller exposing the alien community to space racist attacks and talking abt how she got to her position through deceit and being a terrible person and stuff is just. Ahsfiwueh JUST SAY YOU DONT KNOW WALLER.

Anyways literally the 3rd mission of the Squad ever (and the first framed as smth Waller picked and not orders from above) was the Squad discrediting and stopping a rogue vigilante who was only arresting POC and funneling white people into white supremacy groups (of which he was the most prominent member) in SUICIDE SQUAD #4. and it's explicitly framed as this mission being personal for Waller that she's hiding from the government bc its illegal like. Guys. Please why are we having her incite (space bc comics) racist attacks now

Also the whole "Amanda got her position through deceit and being a terrible person" NO. she KEPT her position through being shitty and playing complicated political games!!! She wasn't always that way like there is a difference and it is IMPORTANT ppl PLEASEEEE. In Secret Origins #14 we learn Amanda's backstory and she used to be a normal, caring person! Like even after she entered into working in government and politics she wasn't automatically morally bankrupt like please people. She was originally given control of the Squad by Reagan (*sigh* 80s comics...) to distract and get rid of her because she was so successful at pushing progressive social policy in Congress. Acting like she's this static pillar of evil is such a waste of her character and so fucking uninteresting and disrespectful to her arc it drives me MAD.

Like I am NOT saying Waller is all sunshine and rainbows, she fucking SUCKS (said w love <3) but like there's a human being there. It's a progression, she has a character arc like please, DC, please!!! They've fucked up Waller so bad and made her so opaque and uninteresting she can't even be the protagonist of her own story for fucks sake!

Like I don't know how many times I have to scream it until DC hears me or remembers but WALLER IS THE MAIN CHARACTER OF SUICIDE SQUAD. ITS HER BOOK. yet right now she's a cutout to be used as the villain wherever the writers please. Even in her book we get none of her perspective really displayed, no exploration of her thoughts with any kind of understanding of the role she traditionally has played and was made to play in the story.

[caluupin]

Finished TGAAC around 2 1/2 weeks ago but only finished the doodles today. but still, here ya go!

[greyedian]

MAN I'm seriously so sad about season 2. Bc I wish act 2 had the same emotional impact on me as it appears to have on so many others. But rn I'm just somewhere between unable to care and actively annoyed by some of those writing decisions. Seriously the more I think about it the less I like it.