#and to be dissected and discussed and pulled apart

[userautumn]

I continue to be fascinated by how two groups of people came away from 8x11 with such drastically different and confident interpretations. I'm trying to remember the last time this has happened. I think it's been a while but it's really interesting to see.

[double--blind]

(SPOILERS) breaking down how obsessed Andrew is w/his sister bc he's a repressed lil liar and I'm going insane

This post got longer than I intended it to

1. He claims they don't spend enough time apart from each other to even begin missing her so he doesn't even know if he would, but just earlier in the game he was apart from her for probs like 30 mins tops to investigates some cultists and guess what???? He was already missing her 😒

2. Says "I thought you grew out of this touchy-feely crap" when Ashley asks for a hug, but earlier when he was cooking dinner, he was the one with the inexplicable urge to "pull this broody bitch into [his] arms and force her to stay until she smiles" 😒

3. Piggy-backing off the last screenshot: WHAT OTHER THOUGHTS, ANDREW??? yOU WERE JUST THINKING ABT HUGGING HER. WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEAN. THESE ARE SIMPLY INNOCENT BROTHERLY THOUGHTS ARE THEY NOT????? 🤨🤨🤨

4. Bro just can't keep his hands off her. And everyone thinks Ashley's the clingy one jeez (lol the way he springs apart from her when Mom catches them is definitely definitelyyyy not worth analyzing. nope. not even when it happens a second time on the couch. nope. nooope)

5. What. What is he thinking here. Don't think I don't see those grey lil blush lines. Is this connected to my third point somehow bc like... 🤨😬 Is "Andrew" is gonna start doing and being what "Andy" was too spineless and afraid of doing?? That's what the vow was partly abt right?? Does that include—

5. WHEWWW BOY that little flashback with his gf has so much baggage in it I just wanna dissect. His girlfriend's tryna have a serious discussion with him abt his weird sister for the sake of bettering their relationship bc she genuinely loves him, but he just gets caught up in fondly talking abt said weird sister instead??

6. He's awfully hesitant abt Ashley learning some independence, bc y'know what?? I think he doesn't really want her to stop relying on him. But what do I know y'know

6. Wants his gf to put tie her hair up in a ponytail, then when she refuses bc he'll pull on it, says it's just "how boys express their love". Well. You know who else puts there hair up in a ponytail??? You know who else's hair he's always pulling on and touching???

7. The voicemails in his gf's phone left by Ashley are heard by him in his dreams, and his dreams are a construction of his mind utilizing his memories, personal hangups, and knowledge of Ashley. The voicemails irl were left on his gf's phone, and for all we know, he never actually listened to them in person. Bearing this in mind... odds are the things Ashley's saying contain bits of truths he believes within himself, filtered thru her crude, hateful dialogue.

Here. I transcribed one of them...

"DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME!? Just because you can fuck him and I can't? You think that's love?! Are you fucking delusional?? Cumdumpsters like you are just that. He will never love you. Not like he loves me. I am the only one. I am everything. I am the secrets you'll never hear. When he lies in bed at night, and when he needs someone to hold on to… It's not you he seeks out. It is me."

8. Claims Ashley's the one with the jealous streak, not him, but I think he's just as bad. The only difference is that Ashley's never given him reason to act on it since all she's ever wanted was him, but at the slightest mention of her gettin it on w/someone else, even as a joke, he gets mad. "OVER MY DEAD BODY!!" he says, when she's jokingly contemplating getting knocked up via the neighbor so an ambulance would come for her. "I wouldn't let them," he says, when she's complaining abt not being pretty enough for the wardens to bang her

9. Going hand-in-hand with that fact, he's intensely protective of her. Didn't hesitate to cleaver the warden who found her in the closet (probs didn't even BLINK lmaooo he chose VIOLENCE), and when the cake-stealing cultist insulted her just once, he stepped forward just like that

10. In their apt, when they were lying on the floor talking abt jumping off the balcony, he was really caught up in the "romantic" fantasy of them committing a double suicide and dying with their bodies entwined so irreparably by the impact they form one unified corpse "never to be separated!" and they get buried in the same coffin together. UM??? Bro fr thought he was the sane one of the two. That wasn't even true before the cannibalism and demon summoning 😭😭😭

BONUS:

11. This might just be me, but his reaction to seeing the post-sex vision doesn't strike me as someone who's inherently opposed to the idea. Instead of disgusted, he was... flustered?? He acted like she walked in mid-guilty pleasure wet dream. This wasn't a "GROSS THATS INCEST" reaction which is... the most normal reaction to have. That's the face of a man that got CAUGHT bro.

He asks "we're not like that, are we?" and "why are you like this?" and questions the veracity of the vision, but he never actually explicitly denies wanting the vision to happen, more focused on Ashley and her reaction. He buries the elephant under the rug as fast as he can, bc yeah, it struck a landmine, but it probably wasn't a landmine for the reason Ashley thinks it is. I bet the vision just hit a little too close... :P

[the-owl-tree]

warriors is bad but unfortunately for me it's bad in a way that's really fun to dissect and analyze, pulling apart it's flaws and discussing them for me is akin to a tiger clawing at a pumpkin stuffed with raw ground beef

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

006 》 LEE HEESEUNG

the idea of going back to someone from your past to move on from someone new is common, but only in certain situations does it actually work. with thanksgiving only two weeks away, you don’t have time to make mistakes, nor does your situation call for anyone from your past. but hey, your twenties are for making mistakes, aren’t they?

wc 20.3k | smut minors dni! drinking, weed mentions, drunk sex, uhhh so much happens in this so good luck i guess

soft kisses pressed along your jaw, a hand in your hair, lightly scratching at your roots… a muddled groan came from deep in your chest as you peeled your eyes open, a very shirtless seonghwa laid over your chest, beckoning you awake. 

“time to get up, rich girl,” his voice was husky, groggy, you knew he’d just woken up, too. 

you groaned again, your own voice raspy and hoarse with sleep, “i’d pay you to use my name at this point.” 

his chuckle was short-lived as he pulled away from you, stealing all of your warmth. you shivered beneath the pink blanket, quickly pulling it over your shoulders, blinking rapidly to force your eyes to stay open. seonghwa lifts himself off the mattress, stretching his arms above his head once he stands up, still butt naked. the sight brings a lazy, remembering smile to your cheeks. 

“what time is it?” you ask as you look around his place, the light peering in from the windows told you it was barely dawn. 

“six thirty,” he answered as he walked across his apartment, your eyes following his toned abdomen as he made his way to the clothing rack. “i have work in thirty minutes.”

“six thirty?!” you reiterate in surprise, “we went to sleep not even two hours ago.”

seonghwa barely reacts, his voice sounding utterly disinterested, “i told you i had work early.”

you curse under your breath, hands coming up to rub at your eyes. you can’t remember the last time you were up this early. 

“i’m gonna take a shower,” he walks past the mattress again, and throws a pile of clothes on it as he walks by. “are you heading out now? or waiting until i’m out of the shower?” 

you plant your arms down at your sides over the blanket, staring at him with a crease in your brows. after barely any sleep, you opened your eyes not even five minutes ago– the nerve of that question. “does it look like i’m ready to go right now?” 

“good point,” he nodded, completely unaffected by your frustration and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you to hear the squeak of the handle and then the noise of water hitting the shower floor.

you sighed, closing your eyes again, but your adrenaline was pumping from being irritated and not being in your own home– you couldn’t bring yourself to take another five minute nap while he was gone. you took your time getting up off the mattress, you hunted for your clothes scattered across the hardwood, lifting blankets and pillows scattered around the floor to find every piece. 

you and seonghwa barely slept– countless rounds in the sheets and endless conversations between them, you didn’t want to. neither did he. you talked about everything that you could, not one topic easy to think about let alone discuss with someone you just met. you told him more about your dad, about your siblings, your friends, he made you break everything down. how your dad’s death affected you emotionally, why you waited so long to date, why mingyu was so heartbreaking for you. 

he made you dissect your relationship with ace, how it differed from your relationship with vivi. why you had pent up feelings toward your little sister, most of it having to do with jealousy that she was too young to feel the weight of your father’s death, some of it that she was simply just sixteen. 

your codependency on your twin and three best friends was a lengthy one. seonghwa supposed how you were raised had the biggest hand to play, four families with money that could do whatever they wanted, dress their five children in matching outfits and call them siblings– what he couldn’t understand was how dependent you were on each other now. why you’re together so often, share as much as you do, how there’s no underlying sexual tension with any of them. 

you managed to hold one thing close to your heart, at least. you didn’t dare bring up the shared night with yunho. you were petrified of what seonghwa would have to say. 

seonghwa shared more about his childhood, about having such a young mother, being raised with her by his grandmother, her mother. she was just a kid, too, and seonghwa knew that more than anyone else. she had to grow up too fast with absolutely zero resources, but instead of ending up just like her, he went to school, began working as soon as he was old enough– so he wouldn’t have to depend on anyone else, so if they left him too, it wouldn’t destroy everything he’d built. 

you felt closer to him now, even if that seemed impossible after your first conversation. you braced yourself mentally, you knew you’d have a lot to think about for days to come, a lot of emotion to work through, and only a portion of it had to do with seonghwa himself. 

when he came out of the bathroom again, your clothes were on and the mattress was made so perfectly it was as if you had never laid in it at all– even his clothes were in a perfectly neat pile at the foot of the bed. your hair was tied up, you were sure your makeup was a wreck, but as seonghwa looked between you and his perfectly made bed, that was the last thing on your mind. 

he sighed, but his face was somewhat appreciative, he knew about your need to keep a tidy space, you told him all about it last night. “i know in your brain you had to do that, but you really didn’t have to. thank you.”

“now you have a made bed to come home to,” you smiled proudly with your hands on your hips, coming home to a made bed was a good feeling, you wanted to take something else off his plate– or make at least one thing a little easier. cleaning up has definitely brightened your spirits.

he drops the towel and grabs his boxers from the mattress, pulling them up his legs, “look, i had a good time last night–”

your face drops. he notices. 

“–and we get along terrifyingly well, but i don’t have the time or the energy to fulfill whatever you’re looking for.” 

you gulped. what are you even supposed to say to that? on one hand, you completely understand– he cares for two kids basically by himself, has three jobs, he’s right. he didn’t have the time, he couldn’t fulfill what you needed, what you were looking for in a partner, you two came from two completely different worlds. you were silly to think it’d progress past one night– one really, really good night you’d think about for weeks to come.

on the other hand, it puts a pit in your stomach. you like him, last night was one of the best nights of your life, you’ve never connected with someone on such a deep level, and never so fast. he saw the deepest, darkest parts of you last night, pulled them from inside you like weeds and accepted them, analyzed them, gave you a starting point to work through them– and he doesn’t want to see you again? it hurts just as much as you understand why. 

you didn’t even wipe the crust from your eyes yet and a tightness forced itself in your throat that you couldn’t do anything about. you put on a fake smile, as much as it hurt, this wasn’t your decision to make. “i get it.” 

he looked at you like he pitied you, brows slightly downturned, a glimpse of a frown on his lips you spent too long kissing. you felt small beneath his gaze, you couldn’t believe you started last night feeling bad for him and now he felt bad for you. you tried to crack a joke to fill the tension in the air, “is this another rich girl always gets what she wants moment?” 

his lips curved upward, humor flying from his nose. he walked to you in two short strides, taking a moment to stare down at you, something else beneath the black ice. “no, not this time.” 

he wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you into a hug, intoxicating you with his smell. every part of you wanted to cry, you felt dramatic, you wanted to wait in his shitty little apartment until he was finished work and repeat the night before all over again. you breathed him in, tucked your head into his chest and let him comfort you, the first time he’s done it, and unfortunately for you, the last. 

“thank you,” you didn’t mean the to-go boxes of food, or the water bottle he’d brought you after your first round, or the countless rounds that followed. seonghwa knew exactly what you meant. 

the drive home was cold, you made the distance in complete silence, already replaying the previous twelve hours of your life. when you made it home, only your mom was awake, sitting on the couch with a mug full of coffee and her reading glasses on, only looking up from her phone to watch you walk through the front door. 

“are you just getting home?” she asked, dropping her phone into her lap, “i didn’t even know you were gone.” 

you took one look at her, with her perfect hair and perfect makeup, silk pajamas on her body. your feet were bringing you towards her without even realizing, throat so tight you thought it might close. 

“what's wrong?” she asked as she set her coffee mug down on the table beside her, her voice worried. your bottom lip trembled as you stood before her, hair messily tied up and makeup smudged across your face. “tiny, talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.” 

you crawled onto the couch, putting your head in her lap like you were five years old again, and you fucking lost it. sobs ripped from your chest that you felt like you’d been keeping in for years, your knees tucked into your abdomen, arms cradling your head. she stayed quiet as her hands scratched at your scalp, she let you release. she let you process every emotion, every word that you’d spoken in the past twelve hours, every nasty thing you realized about yourself, the thought that you’d have to let go of seonghwa fully.

when your sobs got quieter, turning into weak cries that were farther and farther apart, she spoke. “what happened, my love?” 

you took a moment, thinking, processing. when’s the last time you said thank you to her? the pit in your stomach got impossibly heavier. “am i a good daughter?” 

“of course you are,” she answered without hesitation, “why do you ask?” 

you sniff, positive your snot had already made a stain in her silk pajama pants. “i don’t say thank you enough. i don’t appreciate you enough.” another sob followed. 

she patted your head again, manicured nails massaging at your roots now. “you don’t need to say things for me to feel them, tiny.” she took a breath, and then took a moment to brace herself. “i’ll never forget the day your father died, it was the worst day of my life. but i remember looking at you, ace and vivi, my babies, and vowing that i’d do whatever i could to keep you three happy. you looked at me before you went to bed that night, teary eyed and snot nosed like you are right now, and you said, ‘never leave, mommy.’” 

“when you looked at me and said those words to my face, you meant more than leaving your bedroom, you meant more than going with your father. you were asking me to be by your side forever, no matter what. granted i already said yes to that the day i got pregnant with you, but… i felt like we made a promise that day. it’s the most important promise i’ve ever made, more important than the times i’ve said i do.” 

as you listened, you hadn’t realized your sobs had slowed down again, or that your breath had gotten slower, heavier. you don’t know if your eyes were open this entire time. 

“i know you love me, i know you appreciate me, we have that promise that we made that day to remind me every day. me and you, no one else, tiny. my first baby girl.” 

──────  ꨄ︎

“ace, they’ll be here any minute! put on some clothes, get out of the kitchen!”

your mother’s voice rang through the first floor of your house like an alarm clock, her angry-but-stressed voice was going to push you over the edge. they are the same three families that your family’s been hanging out with since you were born, coming over for drinks to ‘catch up’, as your mom said it. you knew the truth, there was nothing to catch up on, they just wanted to drink and talk and be. you couldn’t complain, that meant good food and a house full of your favorite people. 

ace had just returned from the gym, he’d stripped his shirt before walking into the kitchen, eyes already on the hunt for what food he wanted to try first. you rolled your eyes at the thought, how nice it must be to be a man and only need five minutes to get ready, including a shower. 

vivi was in a dress, her blue hair curled around her shoulders. loafers and ankle socks on her feet, it was practically her uniform whenever your parents invited people over. your mother was in her best form, hair voluminous, makeup soft but sultry, a mid-length dress on her body. matt was in a polo, dress pants, loafers on his feet… it was up to ace to complete the performance, to show the others that you were that family. the others showed up dressed to the nines as well, supporting acts to your mother, although you were sure they loved it just as much. 

yeosang’s family piled in first as they usually did, followed by san’s, then yunho’s who always drifted the line of being late. you were sure his mother preferred it that way, fashionably late and all. 

seonghwa lived inside you the past few days, and as much as you wished it was physical, it was unfortunately all mental— it made you look at nights like these differently. what should be a night of celebrating each other, just by being together, was always overshadowed by flaunting. if not overshadowed, then an ulterior motive of ‘look what i have!’ 

you’d think after over two decades of friendship your parents and their friends would cease the bragging— you wished they would— but god, did they love it. they fed off of it, off of each other. only now did it put a pit in your stomach, only now did you think this isn’t what you want your future to look like. you felt like seonghwa had reached inside your head and twisted up every part of your brain. 

you didn’t put on a dress nor a skirt, your makeup wasn’t as perfectly curated as you’d typically spend an hour doing, your hair was in a single braid down the back of your head. jeans hung freely off your hips and a tee shirt hugged your torso, sneakers on your feet. your mother had blinked at you when you walked down the steps then quickly replaced her expression with a frown, saying, “that’s what you’re wearing?” 

you smiled proudly with a nod of your head. the words pretentious rich girl repeated in your head over the last few days like a mantra, the words were like claws digging deeper and deeper in your head, drawing blood every time you close your eyes. you didn’t want it, you didn’t want to be that person— you didn’t want to raise your kids in an environment where their parents showed off for fun, where they had to get dressed to impress in the comfort of their own home. 

at least tonight wasn’t catered, you thought, everyone was bringing something over instead, but you’re sure everything was store bought or delivered— god forbid anyone in these families lifted a finger, you wondered if anyone actually cooked. 

you made your rounds of hello’s, kissing the cheeks of the other mothers and side hugs to the other fathers, just for every single one to look you up and down with an eyebrow ever so slightly raised as if you wouldn’t notice. 

yeosang, san and yunho paid no mind, or at least they didn’t say anything about your change in appearance, they’ve seen you in anything and everything and nothing by now. yeosang and san were in polos, dress pants and sneakers in pristine condition, yunho in a dark pair of loose jeans, a tee and vans. you’d always paid attention to your own siblings outfits, but those three? did they always dress like that? were they told to? as you scanned the three, your head tilted to the side in thought, one of these is not like the others. 

ace finally came back downstairs with a deep blue pair of jeans and a linen button up, the top two unbuttoned with a chain laid on the exposed skin. a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, a watch on his wrist, socks on his feet… casual but stylish, as per usual, you wondered if he wanted to be in that outfit or if he’d rather be in sweats. he was quick to escape to the garage for a beer. 

you stood in the kitchen as all of your families surrounded you, back pressed to the slab of granite that was your island, your friends surrounding you. 

“wanna go hop on the game?” san asked the group, a glass of whiskey in his hands, black hair slicked back with what you were sure took an absurd amount of gel.

“i doubt we’ll get away with that yet,” yunho shook his head, a beer between his hands, “at least give it an hour.” 

“an hour?” you raise your eyebrows, elbows bent over the counter behind you, “try two, they’re gonna bring us into about sixteen different conversations first.” 

“tiny!” your mom calls over her shoulder as if she heard you, and you look at the three boys in front of you with a smirk. 

“i told you,” you shrug, then make your way over to the circle of moms, all of them in the same uniform. you plant a smile on your face before you face them, brushing your hair behind your ear, “whats up?”

“i was just telling them about that boy,” your mom smacks her lips, “what's his name? jeongin?” 

“jisung, not jeongin,” you shake your head with a laugh, “that one was all yeosang.” 

yeosang’s mom’s eyebrows went into her hairline, “he didn’t tell me he met someone!” she whips her head around in the direction of the boys and you almost feel bad for snitching. “yeosang! who is jeongin?” 

yeosang groans as his head tips back, he stalks over, falling into conversation with his mom about jeongin. your smile grows wider as you bring your attention back to the three other moms in front of you, full wine glasses in their hands. “jisung was great! he’s a– uh songwriter, composer? some kind of music major.” 

“that’s not you,” san’s mom shakes her head, perfectly curled dark hair falling around her face, “a music major? you’ll grow bored in no time, there’s no money in that.”

your eyebrows raise, but yunho’s mom cuts in with a look that shows nothing but relief, “we’re so lucky our boys are in finance.” 

“except mine,” your mom adds, a proud smile on her face, “having another lawyer in the family will be so useful.” 

“for who? vivi?” it rolls off your tongue without a second thought and all three heads turn to you, surprise on their faces.

“that’s not funny, tiny,” your mom scolds, then takes a sip of her wine, bringing her attention back to the moms. “tiny’s just dating, it’s not like the music boy would’ve ever been serious.” 

“he could’ve been,” you argue with pointed eyes, arms crossing over your chest, a pit growing in your stomach. “and what if he was? if he was standing here right now, beside me.” 

your mom blinks at you, her jaw tightening. she doesn’t get a word out before san’s mom cuts in, “what happened to the whiskey guy? mingi?” 

“min-gyu,” you correct, and her mouth falls open in remembrance with a strung out oh. you look over your shoulder, searching for someone to come save you. yunho catches your eye, and his legs move before you could mouth the word help. 

“he was great, and loaded, i’m sure,” the three of them laugh without you, “whatever happened to him?” 

“it just didn’t work out,” you shake your head simply, wanting, needing the subject to change immediately.

“why not? he was fantastic,” yunho’s mom adds, talking with her hands, wine sloshing around in her crystal glass. “he talked to us, joked with us, he owns a business. definitely well off.” 

as yunho made his way to your side, his ears perked up at the words– he already knew who the topic of discussion was. his mom continues, “i’m sure you could’ve been married within the year, your life could be so comfortable.” 

“that’s not what i’m interested in,” you shake your head, arms over your chest tightening further.

at the same time, yunho adds, “that doesn’t matter to her, mom.” 

you look up to him with a look of appreciation and surprise for sticking up for you, and he gives you the smallest smile full of warmth. he takes a step closer to you, the denim on your hips almost touching his. a chill rushes through you at the closeness, how huge he feels next to you– he’s always been that big, you tell yourself, yet the realization felt new. different. 

“that’s a shame,” san’s mom shakes her head, lips pursing, “when you get older, you’ll understand how much living a comfortable lifestyle matters.” 

comfortable– what she actually meant was more money than you know what to do with. 

when you thought about your future, money was never in the question– you supposed it was your privilege that left it from your thoughts in the first place. you always saw yourself teaching, maybe in a school of your own, with a husband who was everything you’d ever wanted. you never even considered not having enough money to do it.

“she’ll be just fine,” yunho gives a singular shake of his head, and with one statement the conversation is shut down completely. san’s mom’s smile never leaves her face, and it brings one to yours. he really did save you when you needed him to.

“yes she will,” yunho’s mom smiles at you, eyes warm and caring, she genuinely meant it. “baby tiny, our girl, how could she not be with you boys at her side?” 

your cheeks flush, heat crawling up your spine– what did she mean by that? you think back to your night with giselle and julie, everything you realized. was she in on it? was it ace, your mom and yunho’s mom? is yunho in on it, too? 

a nervous laugh escapes your lips, brain scrambling for something to say. “does anyone need another drink? more wine?” as you look around the circle, every glass is still full of wine. your laugh comes out forced as you look up to yunho, “actually, maybe we should go play the game.”

yunho nods and you all but run off to grab your friends, damn near pulling them by the collars of their shirts down to your basement. you sit at the corner with ace sitting beside you, the other boys taking their spots with controllers in hands. you immediately text giselle and julie, needing to get this off of your chest immediately. 

you: yunho situation is becoming scary  you: idk if im being paranoid or what

julie: whats going on

you: idk im tweaking i think you: save me

giselle: i have good news!!! giselle: ENA is throwing sat night giselle: does that help

you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, you hadn’t seen heeseung in months. not even a glimpse, not even on social media, save for the ENA instagram page you avoided like the plague. the whole reason you stopped going to ENA was because of him and your weird hookup relationship that wasn’t a relationship at all— it became too much, hooking up with him weekend after weekend (if he felt like it) and not getting as much as a hello when you’d see each other on campus. 

you: yes actually it kind of does  you: lol what if i texted him

julie: um  julie: WHO

giselle: girl the whole reason you stopped going was bc of him giselle: that boy is not gonna be your boyfriend on thanksgiving

you: well yeah no shit you: but…….do i care

“—that fucking sword! i’m dead, i’m dead, i’m dead— fuck, i’m really dead. please heal me, please please please please—”

you paid no mind to ace’s yells from beside you, typing away on your phone, a smile on your face with your fingernail between your teeth. 

giselle: i mean fuck it

julie: i think you should text SEONGHWA 🩷

giselle: jules :/ too soon

you: too soon indeed 💔💔💔

a giggle leaves your lips as you scroll through your phone, fingers tapping to go into your settings, to your block list. you find don’t answer easily, and unblock him with two taps to your screen. 

you: hey

you quickly lock your phone and place it on your lap, staring at the flatscreen TV in front of you as if you didn’t do anything at all– but your heart thumping against your chest beneath your tee shirt tells you exactly what you just did.

“if we place second again, we’re shutting this shit off,” san huffs from the other side of the couch, catching your attention. you watch as the game reloads, and let your head fall to the back of the couch. 

“i’m thirsty,” you mumble to no one in particular, more of a complaint than anything. yunho hops up from his spot and throws the controller down to where he was sitting, walking towards your carpeted staircase. 

“where are you going? we’re getting loaded into another game,” ace sits up a little straighter, his eyebrows twisted in confusion, a hand pointed toward the flatscreen in front of him. 

“i’m getting another drink, my beer’s empty,” he shrugs at the platform, “tiny said she was thirsty, too.” 

“ooh! can you get me a surfside from the garage?” your head lifts back up, eyes wide and hopeful. yunho shoots you a nod with a tight lipped smile. 

“i need another, too,” ace shakes his can side to side, “your hands are big enough to carry three.” 

“you should come with me,” yunho blinks at ace, all warmth in his expression gone, and ace takes a second to respond– all of you are well aware of how many cans yunho can carry in his hands. 

“okay,” ace hops up off the couch quickly, then looks to san and yeosang, “put us back in the lobby, or at least drop us somewhere safe. be right back.”

your eyebrows furrow as your twin walks across the room in front of you, then follows yunho up the stairs. you turn to san and yeosang, raising a brow, “that was weird, right?” 

san shrugs, and yeosang shakes his head. yeosang blurts, “no, not weird at all. normal actually, he needs help carrying the cans.” 

you stare at them both for a moment longer, but neither react. you pick your phone back up, texts from don’t answer on your screen– your heartbeat quickens, eyes blinking rapidly just in case you read it wrong. nope, definitely heeseung. 

don’t answer: broooo no way don’t answer: u unblocked me?? 

you purse your lips– you started this, yet somehow you regretted it already. 

you: yes lol you: heard you were throwing this weekend

don’t answer: we throw like every weekend  don’t answer: that's not an excuse 😭 don’t answer: u miss me huh

you: always so confident you: i miss your parties yeah

don’t answer: nah u miss this dick

you gasped– out loud, which had the two boys jumping in their seats and turning your way with curious eyes. san’s voice was loud and slightly concerned, “what happened?” 

“nothing,” you respond too fast, fingers already typing a response. 

you: LMFAOOOOO you wish bro you: you haven't changed at all 

don’t answer: it’s only been a few months don’t answer: what were u expecting

you: i never expect anything from you

don’t answer: good don’t answer: so are u coming this weekend

you: maybe

don’t answer: ill see u then don’t answer: i miss that cute lil pussy too

that had you slamming your locked phone screen into your lap, cheeks flushed, body buzzing. san and yeosang didn’t seem to notice, too busy with using their controllers plus ace and yunho’s, but you were grateful. they knew everything about heeseung, and neither would be the slightest bit happy about you texting him.

you: btw were going to ENA this weekend

julie: YAY!!!

giselle: GIRLS NIGHT TWO WEEKS IN A ROW AHHH <333

yunho rips open the tall white door to the garage, the noise it makes rattling in his ears. his heart is thumping against his chest– ace knows how he feels about you, ace has been his confidant for years now, but it still doesn’t make it any easier that everything is starting to feel real– now ace’s advice and blessing matters.

“what’s up with you, man? running to the stairs the second she says she’s thirsty?” ace says with a lazy smile as soon as he closes the door behind him, “if you’re trying to be nonchalant that shit is not working.”

“i’m not trying to be nonchalant, not anymore,” yunho runs his hands through his hair then covers his face with them, groaning into his palms. “there’s like, three weeks left until thanksgiving, her time is running low to find a boyfriend.”

“and?” ace raises an eyebrow as he pulls open the refrigerator door, grabbing two beers, then hands one to yunho. “just confess and the problem is solved.” 

“i can’t just confess, are you fucking crazy?” yunho raises his eyebrows, taking the beer from ace’s outstretched arm and cracking the lid. “every single man she’s seen so far she’s told that we’re all brothers to her, man. how do i get past that?” 

ace looks at yunho like he’s pathetic, and it works in making yunho feel slightly silly. ace argues, “you just slept in her bed like a week ago, god, i can’t believe i'm still giving you advice about my sister.”

“only because she was drunk, and she had just finished making out with one guy all night then talked about a different one in the car,” yunho counters, taking a much needed swig of his beer. the carbonation sitting in his stomach does nothing to help the pacing of his heart. 

ace pulls his lips together in a line, “if it was anyone other than tiny i’d tell you you’re fucked, but it’s tiny, and your relationship with her has always been different than with san or yeosang. you should’ve just been honest with her from the jump and then there wouldn’t have been other guys in the first place.” 

yunho starts to pace back and forth in the garage, vans almost silent against the cement. “she needed other guys– experience and shit.”

“gross, man,” ace’s face twists in disgust, taking a step back from yunho, “now you’re crossing the line.”

“that’s not what i meant,” yunho stops in his tracks, flailing a hand toward ace in defense, “i mean, it’s the same thing with mingyu, i told her not to date him because she needs to be her age first. i wouldn’t be any better than him if the only dating experience she has is with me.”

“you’re driving yourself crazy, bro,” ace shakes his head, “do you even hear how you sound? i’ve never seen you worked up like this over anyone.” 

“she’s not anyone, ace,” yunho deadpans, “she’s the only person i’ve wanted since i was eighteen.” 

ace’s face falls flat, “and i’ve been hearing about it for almost that long, too. you don’t think i’m tired of listening to you whine about having my sister’s attention? do something about it, man.”

yunho takes a deep breath, hands coming to his hips– well, one hand and a fist, his can wrapped inside— “okay, i will.”

“really?” ace sounds surprised, like he didn’t think that would’ve worked. “finally.”

“don’t push it or else you’ll hear me complain for another five years,” yunho breathes, on ace’s heel as they walk toward the door that brings them back inside. “oh shit, i almost forgot her drink.”

ace lets a laugh out through his nose, “whole reason we came out here in the first place.”

when they get back to the basement, ace and yunho switch spots so yunho sits beside you, ace between yeosang and san. you think nothing of it as yunho hands you the surfside, a wide smile spreading across your face as he cracks the can for you, his own beer between his knees. 

“thank you,” you say excitedly, then take a sip of your drink. “you guys took so long, did the parents pull you into conversation?” 

yunho nods, “something about getting together next month for dinner.”

ace rolls his eyes from across the couch, then puts his beer on the carpet below him before picking up the controller again. “are we playing or what?” 

“yes, please,” san responds, irritation laced in his tone, “we were waiting for you.”

“don’t blame me,” yunho shakes his head, “blame your mom, she was the one who stopped us.”

“just ready up bro,” san huffs, his controller in his hands already. yeosang assesses the room with a smile, always happy go lucky as he watches– you catch his eye, wiping the small smile off his face. you pout, and he smiles again. 

the boys play another two games, losing both before the four men pull out their phones out of boredom. you sigh, you didn’t want to look at your phone in fear that heeseung had texted you again. you lay your head back on the couch in thought, you wondered how this weekend would go. 

you haven’t seen heeseung in months, and you didn’t exactly tell him you were ghosting him– not that it seems like he cares, anyhow. it was something to do, you didn’t have anyone else lined up, and you really did miss ENA. a massive house that smelled like weed and the stench of beer, dim lights and sweat covered bodies, you could use a distraction– especially after the bomb that was seonghwa.

“do you have any plans this weekend?” yunho asks from beside you, pulling your head from the comfort of the couch as if he could hear your thoughts. 

“giselle and julie are summoning me to ENA,” you respond, and four necks snap to face you. the words spilled from your lips without thought, clearly not thinking about the clear consequences. 

“heeseung’s frat?” ace leans his head forward, eyebrows furrowed. 

“can we come?” yeosang asks immediately, his face lighting up, “and can i please ask jeongin to come?”

“if giselle is going, i wanna go,” san adds, “i’ve always liked that girl.”

“wait, if i ask jeongin to go then his friends will want to go,” yeosang gives san a look, “chan? remember him?” 

“there are plenty of hours in the night, yeo,” san shakes his head, a wicked smile on his face, “and plenty of me to go around.” 

your face shows your clear disgust, “you don’t pull, first of all. second, it was supposed to be a girl’s night. just girls, since i’m always with you.”

yeosang gasps, “you say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“don’t we have other plans this weekend?” yunho’s head turns to face the rest of them, and you can read the expressions on the other’s faces. both san and yeosang’s eyebrows furrow, lips parting just to close them right after, faces losing their expressions. ace stares at yunho with a bored look as if he didn’t say anything at all. 

“why didn’t you tell me?” you pout, “what are you guys doing?” 

yunho turns back to you, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, keeping his expression blank but his voice gives it away, “we’re… going bowling.” 

“bowling?” you raise your eyebrows, assessing the four of them, “at least come up with a better excuse. i’m going to the party on saturday, if you don’t want to come, then don’t.”

“it wasn’t an excuse,” ace steps in, leaning back into the couch to get comfortable, “we made reservations and everything, just assumed you didn’t have plans, forgot you’re busy these days.”

you scoff, “i am busy, thank you very much, include me in your plans when you make them.” 

“wait, you said it was heeseung’s frat, didn’t you?” yeosang asks, glancing at ace before he turns back to you, “isn’t he why you stopped going there in the first place?”

you shrug, “it’s a big place, i probably won’t even see him. i’ll be with giselle and jules anyway.”

“giselle and julie, us now, and possibly chan’s whole friend group,” san adds, “you’ll have plenty of people to keep you hidden.” 

fuck– you should’ve told them no. as much as it was to protect you, you opened that can of worms all by yourself, and now they’ll all be there to witness it. you just smile in response, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at any of them, especially not yunho– whatever was going on between the two of you was seriously freaking you out, maybe hooking up with heeseung for old time’s sake will knock it right out of your system. 

you hoped, at least. 

──────  ꨄ︎

pregaming at your house wasn’t your idea. 

not only did you have your usual group of friends, your twin and his girlfriend in your kitchen– but also chan, jisung, jeongin and jihoon, as well as giselle and julie. twelve people took up the space with music playing through the small speaker on your kitchen counter, mainly used to just display the time, now flowing a pregame playlist through the monochromatically decorated space. 

luckily you and your friends brought color back into the room, standing catty cornered to the island in the corner of your kitchen, you stood with giselle and julie in your best frat-outing outfits. in a mini skirt, tall boots, a tiny top and an oversized jacket, you might’ve felt overdressed if it wasn’t for your two friends mirroring your outfit in the best ways: a half-drunk giselle wore a mini dress, heeled boots and a coat, and a sulking julie had deep denim on her legs, heels on her feet and a top so small you weren’t sure if you considered it a shirt. 

the lack of a coat on her shoulders told you just how drunk she planned on getting tonight.

reia hung around the three of you much to julie’s dismay, you could feel the discomfort oozing off of her as she tapped her manicured fingers against her vodka filled glass every few seconds with a blank stare. in short shorts, a strapless top and tall boots, reia’s straightened black hair almost reached her hips, olive skin glowing under the warm light of your kitchen, makeup dark and sultry and delectable. she was stunning– julie sized her up from the moment she walked through the front door, immediately greeted by ace’s lips pressed to her cheek, julie let a groan rip from so deep in her chest you were grateful only the two of you could hear. 

reia knew all about ace and julie’s history, you learned tonight that neither girls were huge fans of one another, the conversation had been dominated by you and giselle from the start. 

the boys all stood around your island, the slab of granite was the perfect length for a pong table– another thing you learned tonight. ace and yunho were playing yeosang and jeongin, ace and yunho wiping the table with them, the pair had been on a streak for three games now, which wasn’t surprising in the slightest. the other four were watching in pairs on either side of the counter, shouting as the game unfolds, all of them drinking glasses of whiskey. 

for once, you didn’t have a designated driver, all twelve of you having every intention of getting drunk and letting go tonight. no responsibilities, the cost of a driver was more than worth it, even if you would have to take two separate cars to ENA. 

you barely listened as giselle and julie talked right in front of you, zeroed in on the pong game instead– your eyes followed as yunho’s fingers let go of the pong ball, sinking it in the last cup, how his face warped into the widest grin, smacking ace’s hand with his own. yunho’s shirt hung below his waistband, a more than oversized tee paired with pants just as baggy, clean white sneakers on his feet. your feet were moving before you could think twice, sauntering up to the granite, “i want to play winners.” 

it must’ve been the vodka redbull in your glass giving you all of your confidence, you’d never been one for any sport, if you could count beer pong as athletic in any way– you were usually a watcher in any setting, you’ve played enough times to count on one hand. 

no one was as surprised as they should’ve been, alcohol coating the lining of everyone’s stomachs by now, yunho and ace both gave you a quick nod. ace started lining up his cups again, “who’s your partner?” 

you assessed the room, the girls in the corner stared at you with fear in their eyes– you wouldn’t do that to them. you purse your lips before your eyes land on a mop of curly brown hair, a smile growing on your face– perhaps you could break the ice on a friendship with him. “you up for it, ji?” 

his eyes widen before he’s smiling and nodding in your direction. the two of you set up opposite yunho and ace, organizing your cups in a triangle. yunho speaks up from across the granite, voice lazy and tone laced with liquor, “we’re not going easy on you, can’t fuck up our streak.” 

you peel off your jacket, throwing it on the counter behind jihoon and san who paid no mind to you, their eyes on the table, then rub your hands together with a cocky smile you had no business wearing. you looked straight at yunho as you said, “do your worst, then.”

oh, this confidence was definitely from the vodka– you took another swig of your glass placed to the side before the boys rolled the balls to you, jisung picking both up and handing one to you. jisung looks at you, eyebrows scrunched in stress, “are you good at this?” 

you shake your head as you dip your ball into the solo cup full of water closest to you, “not at all.”

his face transforms as he dips his in a cup too, giggling as he says, “this game is going to be over so quick.” 

it’s clear you want to go first as you inch closer to the center of the granite, jisung quickly stepping back to make way. you furrow your brows, your island was definitely longer than most tables used for pong, and higher up, too. you lift your arm, and without thought you throw it– it bounces once, landing in a cup center of the boy’s triangle. 

your friends cheer, and your eyes widen, a smile stretching over your features as you clap your hands together, “no fucking way!”

the girls have moved closer now, standing around the island with the boys, smiles on their faces. you turn to jisung and he looks nervous, “don’t expect me to do that, too.” 

“i’ll carry us,” you wave a hand, “apparently i’m godly at pong.”

he snorts as he moves to the center, sizing up the table, arm bending up before he shoots. his ball hits the edge of a cup, bouncing to the floor. he looks to you with a pout, “i told you.” 

both balls are in the boys' possession now– ace goes first, landing a cup in the back corner, and you pull it off to the side. yunho shoots and does the same thing as jisung, hitting the edge of a cup at the top, and it bounces off to the side of jisung. 

you cock your head as you look at yunho, mischief in your eyes and a smirk playing on your lips, “thought you were good at this?”

“it’s one cup,” he shrugs as if your taunt didn’t bother him at all, “i’m just warming up.” 

“you’ve had like, four games to warm up,” you roll your eyes, voice vicious but teasing. he shakes you off as you move center again, shooting the ball, sinking it once more. the smile that grows on your cheeks iis more cocky than anything, but as jisung shoots, he sinks it, too.

his hand is in yours in seconds, a quick shake as you smile and cheer with the group. you shoot again, sinking the cup at the tip of the triangle. you shake your head in surprise, disbelief washing over your face– you’ve never been good at this game. maybe both jisung and vodka would be your friends tonight. 

jisung shoots, his cup bouncing off the table– your twin is quick to pick it up, dunking it in one of his cups before him and yunho shoot. ace goes first, sinking the same cup you did. you point your gaze at him, “dickrider.”

he laughs, shaggy hair laid around his face shaking with the movement. in a white tee and denim jeans, casual yet stylish– an outfit that never goes out of style, that was your twin’s entire wardrobe, even if you were sure his simple-presenting outfit cost more than yours. he turns to yunho, “come on, make mommy proud.” 

you grimace at the flirting, it wasn’t new but always worse when they’ve been drinking. yunho smiles as he shoots the ball, sinking one on your side, and his eyes immediately shoot to yours. “told you i just had to warm up.”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes, moving the cup and rolling the balls back to them, ignoring the heat that bubbles in your stomach. the two shoot again, ace missing and yunho making one, you fight the smile that yearns to grow. never one to be competitive in your life, you’re beginning to understand why it’s appealing– as the game grows closer, so does your excitement.

“make sure you make this one, teens,” ace taunts from across the table, “jisung needs the help.” 

an assured smile breaks through at his remark and you turn to jisung, handing him a ball, adrenaline coursing through you now. with full confidence you pat his arm, “you got it, ji.”

jisung nods, moving to the center, arm bending before he shoots it– landing one in a cup on the side. you cheer, arms straight up, then high five jisung while yelling, “i knew you could do it!”

jisung is giggling, his cheeks kissed pink as he nods, “your turn.”

you look dead at yunho, aiming for the cup right below him on the left side, a smirk growing at the corner of your lips. you shoot, sinking the one directly in front of him, and he scowls at you as if he knew you just copied what he did to you. you turn to jisung, voice hushed, “ji, we’re kind of good at this.”

jisung makes a fist with his hand and knocks it lightly twice on your head, making a surprised noise leave your chest. he giggles at your reaction as he says, “don’t jinx it, knock on wood.”

you scoff as you turn back to the table, yunho and ace roll the balls back to you. jisung shoots, misses, and you miss your shot right after. jisung whines, “look at what you did.”

“that wasn’t my fault!” you glance at the cups, lips stretching to one side, “we should’ve asked for the cups to be rearranged.” 

jisung looses a breath as ace shoots, sinking a cup at the top, and yunho follows right after– sinking the cup directly next to his. you make an annoyed face as you roll the balls back, face scrunching up, and ace sinks a cup in the back line, yunho missing his shot. 

“can we get zipper?” you ask both boys and ace nods, rearranging your cups to two vertical lines, three on one side and two on the other, in the pockets of the three cups. you nod with a satisfied look on your face, moving to the center. 

“look at you, using terminology and shit,” yeosang jokes from beside you, stood directly next to jeongin, both holding glasses of whatever they were drinking. they looked good together, all sharp lines and muscles, intimidating even– maybe the first time yeosang has ever looked intimidating in his life.

you smile in his direction, “i have played before, you know.”

“never this well,” giselle adds, and you tighten your lips in disappointment at your friend– who’s supposed to be on your side.

“rude,” you mumble as you move to the center, sinking the ball center of the line of three. you smack your lips, happy you made a cup, disappointed in which cup. “shoot for the one closest, ji.”

he nods as he shoots, sinking the one closest. you both yell out a yes! and clasp your hands together before the balls are rolled back to you. yunho stares at you in disbelief, “are you already drunk? there’s no way you’re actually this good.”

you raise your eyebrows at him, a hand coming to your hip, “i didn’t take you for a sore loser, yunho.” 

he smiles all teeth, basically asking you to crawl across the damn table, “i didn’t lose yet.” 

you make one of the cups on the line of two, jisung making the other, leaving you with one cup left. you look up to yunho, eyebrows still raised, “yeah?” 

“anything can happen, tiny,” he says with such nonchalance it almost pisses you off. you shoot and miss, a whine leaving your lips, then jisung shoots, missing as well. yunho smirks, “exactly.”

“stop flirting and shoot the damn ball,” ace huffs as he grabs the balls off the table, handing one to yunho. you blink at him before your eyes dart to giselle and julie, who wore matching faces of nasty smirks. they were not on your side tonight.

“not flirting,” both you and yunho say simultaneously, but neither of you sounded like you meant it.

with only three cups left, adrenaline thrummed under your skin. a need to prove yunho wrong was buzzing inside of you, not that you cared about the game itself, but the way he was so cocky about winning is what sat in your stomach. you wanted to win. 

ace shoots, sinking the cup in front of you, and yunho goes next, sinking the one beside it. that left one cup, and the balls being rolled back to them with frowns on yours and jisung’s faces and audible ooh’s from your friends. 

“you thought,” came from san who stood closest to you, the taunt making you land a light smack to his arm. 

“shut up, we’re gonna win,” you huff, “they’ll both miss.” 

“miss?” ace laughs, bending his arm up in preparation to shoot. “nah, i don’t miss.” he shoots, and sinks it— but before you can process anything, jisung is crouching at the same level of the cup, blowing into it. with success, the ball flies out of the cup, bouncing to the floor. 

a laugh of disbelief leaves your chest, your eyes widening as you grab jisung’s arm, “i forgot you could do that! nice.” 

you look across the table and ace looks irritated, top lip lifted as he shakes his head. your friends are still cheering out curses and sounds of disbelief that mirrored yours, the girls excitedly cheering. you giggle in your twins direction, “that’s what i thought!” 

“my turn,” yunho interrupts and your face goes blank, for just a moment you forgot he was there, too. a pout takes place on your cheeks, lips folding downward, you could kiss your win goodbye. 

your eyes meet and he pauses as he bends his arm, the movement haltering for just a second before he shoots. the ball hits the back rim of the cup, bouncing right into your hand as you catch it. 

“you’re joking,” ace mutters as he turns to yunho, scowling. “are you kidding me? you’ve made that shot three times tonight.” 

“my arm is getting tired,” he shrugs, and fixes your last cup on his side, centering it on the table. 

“bullshit,” ace huffs as he walks away, towards the bar off the side of the kitchen. he calls over his shoulder, “i’m not staying to watch you purposely break our streak, asshole.” 

your smile is permanently etched onto your face as you yell after him, the last part clearly not sinking in, “i didn’t know you had so much faith in me!” 

“i don’t,” you hear from the other room as the balls are rolled back to you. you giggle to yourself and reach for your glass, shooting back the rest of your vodka redbull before you go to shoot again. 

you sink it— you hold your breath, withholding your cheers as jisung shoots, but he sinks it, too— and the entire room erupts in cheers, jisung hugging you from the side, planting a quick kiss to your temple. you’re a smiling, giggling mess, surprised at yourself for winning, for even playing in the first place. 

when the cheers die down, after the adrenaline runs its course and you choose to not play again, you go to make another drink, jisung following you. as you pour the bottle of tito’s into your glass, you can feel something radiating off of him as he just stands there beside you.

you look up to him with slightly raised brows as you open another can of redbull, telling him to say it without actually verbalizing it. he gives you a shy smile, voice small as he says, “i think i like us as friends.” 

you stir your redbull in with your finger, matching his smile in return, “i think i like us as friends, too.” 

“so,” he bounces on his heel, shyness still radiating off of him, “since we’re friends, when did the thing with yunho start?” 

the look you gave him for his ridiculous statement was enough to make his ears burn red. you scoff, “what thing with yunho?” 

“you know,” his eyes look to the kitchen then back to you, “he just clearly let us win, and what ace said about the flirting and stuff?” 

“we weren’t flirting,” you argue, the look still on your face— eyebrows furrowed and lips bent in discontent, “and we won fair and square.”

“oh,” he drags it out, chin tipping back, his hands laid across the bar, “i understand now.” 

“i’m ordering the drunk bus!” 

both of your heads snap in the direction of giselle’s announcement from the kitchen— the drunk bus was a literal bus that seated around ten, it’d drop you and pick you up from wherever you needed, a luxury that only applied to the towns surrounding your campus. it was one fee split amongst the group, you’d never taken it before, but you’ve heard the stories from giselle and julie– whatever happens in the drunk bus, stays in the drunk bus. 

you turn back to jisung who’s smiling, “what do you ‘understand’?” you use two bent fingers on each hand to quote the word, irritation clear in your tone. 

jisung shakes his head, “forget i said anything, i’m gonna get another drink.” he made for the kitchen before you could get a word out, and you stand in your frustration for a moment. 

was this turning into something everyone could see, except for you? you did not think you were flirting with yunho across the table, nor did you think he was flirting with you. he does look good, and the way he wore his confidence like it was a part of him was way too enticing, so unlike him it was as if he was a different person entirely– shit, maybe your paranoia wasn’t paranoia? sticking up for you to his mom, racing to get you a drink the moment you said you were thirsty, it all seemed to add up. 

… would that be so bad? 

a gasp leaves your lips, an immediate shake of your head as you turn to face the bar again, your back turned to the entrance of the room. that was a terrifying thought, but if you really contemplated it— hyunjin was an asshole, mingyu was too old, jisung and chan ended up being better as friends, seonghwa was complicated. what you needed was easy, natural, logical— wouldn’t yunho be all three? you only had two more weeks after tonight. 

“fuck,” you muttered to yourself. if it was clear enough for jisung to notice, it must be clear as day— your hand came up to your hair, scratching at your scalp, were you already in a situation you didn’t agree to?

“drunk bus is a minute away,” chan pops his head through the door, a head of blonde hair a stark contrast to the dark wood door frame. you yelp, whipping around to face him, and he makes a face of confusion and surprise before he’s giggling, walking into the room. “sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. you good?” 

you shake your head, forcing a smile on your lips, “all good.” 

he raises a brow, “liar.” 

your smile turns genuine as you look down at your shoes, “i’ll be fine, i should chug this before we go.” 

“then come out here with the rest of us,” chan urges, grabbing your free arm and pulling you out to the kitchen again. you sip your drink as you walk, hoping none of it spills down your face as chan pulls you along. 

you down about half your drink when the drunk bus arrives, chugging the rest as everyone rushes out of the front door. you grab your purse and jacket, folding it over your arm, following ace as the last two escaping from your house. 

your body is warm as you watch everyone pile into the bus, which you supposed was more like a van with several rows of seats. the girls sat up front with chan, jihoon, jisung and yeosang on jeongin’s lap on the row behind them, leaving the back row for you, yunho, your twin and san. 

the rows seated three each, you blinked at the three girls up front, giselle in the middle of reia and julie. the smart decision would’ve been to put you up front with your friends, and have reia in the back on ace’s lap— too drunk to give a fuck, you’re the last to pile into the bus, making your way to the back. 

you face the three men, yunho on the edge of the row, ace in the center and san on his right. you pop a brow, standing hunched over in the van, “am i just going to lay across the three of you?” 

san nudges his chin forward, “you can sit up front with the driver.” 

your jaw drops, voice lowering to a hushed whisper, “i am not doing that, that’s excluding me from the fun of the drunk bus.” 

“sit on yunho’s lap,” ace says casually, pulling his phone from his pocket, “that way we can finally leave.” 

you wanted to snap at him for the attitude— instead you looked at yunho who sat back ever so slightly, spreading his thick thighs so you could perch yourself on one, looking up at you with awaiting eyes. your lips pulled to one side in contemplation, thinking back to your dilemma earlier– only one way to find out what all of this meant.

so you obeyed your twin, sitting down on one of yunho’s thighs with your legs bent over the other, facing ace and san. ace barely looks up from his phone and san is wearing a silly smile on his cheeks, then reaches forward to tap yeosang on the shoulder. 

yeosang looks back at san over jeongin’s head of black hair before his eyes slide over to you and yunho, a laugh leaves his throat, “no fucking way– you’re both that drunk already? we aren’t even there yet!”

your body was hot before you left the house, now you were approaching feverish as the entire middle row turned around. you locked eyes with jisung who raised both brows, i told you so written all over his face. 

“no,” you argue back, lip lifting in annoyance at yeosang, “shut up and kiss your boyfriend.” 

yeosang giggles again as the bus finally starts moving, ENA was a quick fifteen minute drive from your house, at least you didn’t have to be on yunho’s lap for long. it surprisingly wasn’t unpleasant or uncomfortable having a pair of strong thighs beneath you– his thighs beneath you, his cologne in your nose, heat radiating off his body onto yours. 

mentally, it was more uncomfortable than it was physically, you were sure if there wasn’t so much talk you wouldn’t have thought anything of it. 

the driver turns music on and the drunks in the first two rows immediately start singing along, voices loud and clearly intoxicated. you turn to yunho, your voice hushed, “this is so annoying.” 

“what’s annoying?” he asks, close enough for his breath to kiss your skin. only then did you realize just how close you actually were— it wasn’t just strong thighs beneath you, it was your arm against his chest, it was your face inches apart, it was his hand resting on your knee. you blame the vodka when your thighs squeeze together.

you could feel the heat in your ears as you squirm, your hands finding your lap, you didn’t even know where they were before that– “they keep saying stuff about us.” 

“i know,” yunho’s eyes leave yours, looking ahead to the front of the bus, maybe to the road outside. “definitely annoying.” 

your eyes thinned as you scanned his face for any emotion, stomach feeling sour at him calling it annoying— him saying it didn’t sit right. you scrunch your face, “i guess they have a point, though.” 

he looks back to you, eyebrows furrowed yet eyes wide, surprise and confusion washed over him. a cocky smile grows on your cheeks, “you did let us win pong.” 

he smiles all teeth, wide, understanding and sweet as his head falls back to the headrest, “you won fair and square.” 

“i thought that too,” you argue as your head tilts forward, following his movement, subconsciously wanting to stay so close. sucked into something unexplainable, you couldn’t believe the words that left your mouth, “was i imagining things or were you flirting with me across the table?” 

his smile shifts to something of a smirk, so unlike yunho it had electricity zipping through every nerve. was this the side of yunho that other girls get to see? get to know? his stories begin to make sense. “and what if i was?” 

you catch ace’s eye out of your peripherals, snapping you back into reality before you realize you’d left it. you suck in a breath as you shift backward again, sitting upright, as if a bucket of ice water was pourerd over you– right, this was yunho, one of your best friends since birth, you were shocked ace was keeping his mouth shut if he heard any of that. what would the three of them think?

you looked to your lap, “don’t fuck around, you know i’m in a fragile state right now… two weeks and all.”

“that’s the point,” you look back up and his head is still tilted back, his throat on display, he looked so much of a man you had to rip your eyes away before your body gave you away. you weren’t sure if you were imagining things, if your drunk brain was creating a conversation you weren’t really having, maybe the caffeine from the redbull rendered you schizophrenic. 

yunho couldn’t believe he just said that– a few shots and a few beers must’ve inflated his ego and encouraged his confidence more than ace ever could have. he was proud of himself, adrenaline and liquor swimming in synchronicity, a cocky smirk still sitting on his lips. 

out of all of these dates, out of the stories he’s heard, he thinks he has a handle on what works for you. just a moment ago, how your head followed him back, that confirmed it for him– he knew you through and through, you had no idea you helped him know this side of you through all your complaints and stories. 

you raise an eyebrow in question, and yunho doesn’t want to explain himself, but he does anyway. “like i said six weeks ago, your grandma fucking loves me, tiny.” 

he watches, feels it as realization settles in. how your eyes widen, your glossed lips part, your body stiffens on his lap– maybe he overshot his confidence a bit. this was still you, the girl he’s wanted for years, the same girl that has also never looked at him as anything other than a friend– the last thing he wants to do is scare you off. after staring at him in surprise for a moment, you begin blinking rapidly, mumbling a hushed, “what?” 

yunho panics internally, but he doesn’t show it. he’s happy you weren’t close enough to hear his heart beating against his chest– but like he told ace, it was time to do something about it. his voice is calm, confident as he says, “you know exactly what i mean.” 

“tiny! you get next song,” julie yells from the front, using a nickname she rarely uses for you, holding her phone that was connected to the aux cord. you yell back the title of a rap song almost immediately, one that yunho knows you know by heart, and he finds himself smiling. 

maybe he’s grateful that julie interrupted– he had started a conversation he didn’t want to have right now, not when you’re both drunk, when yunho’s filter was long gone. you’d remember this tomorrow, you’d know what he said, it’s not something that could go undiscussed– he wanted to tell you properly. but for now, feeling you squirm on his lap, rapping your heart out with slurred words at the top of your lungs, yunho welcomed that with open arms. 

when you finally arrived to ENA, there were several cars and buses parked in a line, groups of people crowded on the massive lawn that had lost its color in the november weather. you were at the front of the group with the other girls, ahead of yunho and the rest of the guys who took their time walking up. 

yeosang breaks away from jeongin to walk up to yunho who was in stride with ace, a curious look on his face, “finally doing something about your little crush, huh?” 

yunho rolls his eyes, it’s so much more than that, “it’s not a little crush, but yeah, basically.”

yeosang giggles and grabs san by the arm, the tight black shirt he wore clinging to him, “it’s finally happening!”

san looks confused, “what is? giselle wants me? did she tell you that?” 

ace groans, “yunho and tiny, dumbass. keep your voice down.” 

jisung cuts in, but yunho still feels weird about him, so he pays him no mind– “i knew there was something there.”

“keep it to yourself,” yunho huffs out, barely shooting a look to jisung. 

they finally reached the door, the girls probably deep inside now– they were greeted with a dark house, neon lights searing across the walls, the ceiling, the smell of weed and alcohol strong in the massive space. with a clean, white exterior, the interior reflected nothing of it. ENA was just as dirty and grimy as it was the last time they were here, except now there was only one of them trying to get his dick wet, so now it was noticeable. 

“it’s going to take me ages to find reia,” ace yells over the music already pounding through their bodies. he grabs yunho by the shoulder, “you think they’re getting drinks?” 

yunho gives him a nod and guides the way, a pillar in a sea full of college guys much, much smaller than him. they reach the kitchen without touching too many sweaty bodies, yunho’s head nodding along to the catchy music, eyes on alert for you, julie, giselle or reia. 

he spots the four of you crowded around the kitchen island, well, he hears giselle before he sees you, yelling hello to people he didn’t know. a man was pouring a round of shots and he spotted you, staring at him with excitement in your eyes– yunho almost sighs, he hopes this isn’t a repeat of the music festival, jealousy growing deep in his gut. he hadn’t heard you speak about mingyu since then, so he might be safe, but you’ve surprised yunho so many times in the past six weeks, he can’t be sure about anything anymore. 

reia’s the only one to catch their arrival, shooting ace a bright smile, leaving your side to make her way through the bodies in the kitchen. she pulls him by the arm back to the island, yelling, “take a shot with us!” 

yunho follows silently, watching, until a shot is placed directly in front of him. they’re passed down to yeosang and san, jeongin who stands behind yeosang, a hand on his waist. jihoon, chan and jisung were nowhere to be found, but yunho was sure they’d show up later. yunho leans into ace, “who even are these guys?”

ace shrugs his shoulders, “free shots, who gives a fuck?”

yunho lets out a laugh, looking down to his shot glass before clinking it with the group, then shooting it back. he meets your eyes as his glass meets the table– they’re glossed over, drunk, a soft, silly smile blankets your features. his heart cracks in his chest, fuck, he adores you– with your cute little outfit, standing around the island bouncing to the music, with no idea that you’re the most beautiful one in the room. 

he can’t wait for you to be his.

you shoot another shot back before yunho can even blink, the mysterious guy with dark hair and a freckle on the side of his nose smiling in your direction. yunho’s eyes dart between you and the guy, trying to pick up on any lingering tension, any want in your eyes. his jaw tightens.

“i saw you at that bar by campus!” you yell at him over the table, words slurred and loud, body leaning across the wooden slab. “you’re the one that sleeps with that bartender!”

“belle?” he looks at you as if you’re crazy, but you’re a giggling mess as you nod in response. 

julie leans in close to you, her smile wide, tone teasing, “we know all about belle, hoon.”

the guy furrows his brows, leaning in closer over the island, “how?”

“you know your friend jake?” you ask, trying so hard to keep your laughter inside. he nods, and you’re bursting trying to keep it in, “so does belle.” 

yunho is confused, on the outside of whatever joke you and julie are playing on this guy. giselle appears out of nowhere, grabbing both of you by the wrists, “they’re just kidding, hoonie, don’t mind them. see you later!” she pulls you out of the kitchen, towards the living room, yelling something about dancing and to stop making trouble. 

yunho shakes the confusion off of him as he sorts through the bottles on the island, lips scrunched as he tries to find whiskey. the hoon guy is on his right in an instant, asking him, “you looking for the good shit? i got you, bro.”

yunho follows him to a set of bottles hidden behind cutting boards on the counter– a few bottles of aged whiskey behind them. yunho raises a brow, “how’d you know?”

“you seem like a whiskey guy,” he makes a face of understanding, as if he knows yunho, “there’s beer in the fridge, too. you know those girls?” 

yunho nods as he grabs a solo cup from the stack of them beside the bottles– the tackiest cup for a glass of classy whiskey. “i came with them.” 

“giselle and julie, i know them,” his brows furrowed as he leaned against the counter, “the other one looks familiar, i think she’s been here before.”

yunho’s lips form a line, confirming, “she’s been here before.”

the guy looks like a light bulb went off in his head, “oh shit! you’re right, man, thanks, i should tell heeseung she’s here. what’s her name again?”

“thanks for the drink,” yunho waves him off, walking away before the guy could get another word in. yunho didn’t even think about heeseung being here, it was the last thing on his mind, he’s been so wrapped up in you all night– anxiety creeps up his spine. he finds ace and reia against a wall, kissing, and he feels weird about interrupting, but he has no other choice. “can we go dance?” 

those were the last words ace expected from yunho’s mouth, he broke away from his girlfriend just to let out a laugh directly in his face, “can we go what?”

“dance,” yunho repeats, the word laced with annoyance. “don’t ask questions, be a good friend and do it. please?”

“i’m down to dance,” reia shoots yunho a comforting smile and ace groans. yunho’s always liked reia. 

yunho leads them into the crowd, looking for a head of pink hair to act as a beacon, yunho’s eyes are on alert. he’s seen heeseung once or twice, but he wasn’t sure if he’d recognize him in a crowd like this, if he even looks the same. he hates this feeling– he’s wants you to be done with other guys, he wants to be the only guy you want, the only one who’s attention you crave. 

he can feel the liquor in his fingertips as the crowd gets more dense, the room quickly dampening, heat and sweat kissing the nape of his neck. he finally spots giselle, a beacon just as he thought, stood next to you who was putting your phone in some blonde guy’s phone. he curses under his breath, as if he jinxed himself– this had to be a stroke of bad luck. 

the guy wears a goofy smile that stretched ear to ear, standing like a fucking loser if you were to ask yunho. in jeans and a fitted tee, hair so bleached it looked like straw, yunho was irritated you’d even consider him. his feelings soften as he hears your laugh over the music, as he watches your head tip back, getting a glimpse of your smile. now he had to worry about every guy, not just heeseung? yunho wished he could keep you glued to his side all night, put you in his pocket or something. 

ace puts his hand on yunho’s shoulder, yunho didn’t even realize how fast he was heading towards you two, prepared to do something that’d end up in embarrassment. he hears ace over the music, “leave it, she’s hammered, she won’t remember him tomorrow.”

yunho exhales as he nods, he’s grateful for ace’s words as they cool him down immediately, the only person who can read his mind, understand him like no one else. yunho thinks he might lose his fucking mind by the end of the night if ace leaves his side even once. the two of you put a curse on him the day you were born, he thinks. 

giselle makes eye contact with yunho before you realize he’s there, and the side of her mouth lifts in a smirk. she taps you on the shoulder, and you don’t move, too engrossed in the blonde who you were still talking to. she grabs you by the shoulders to whip you around, forcing your drunk eyes on yunho. 

immediately your features warp into a wide smile as you see yunho, ace and reia. you turn your head to look at the blonde guy for a second before they land on yunho again, you loudly ask, “did you see him? he’s so cute!”

yunho shakes his head, “you’re drunk.”

“yeah, not blind,” you yell back in between giggles, “dance with me?”

yunho’s reluctant to agree, especially as he hears ace crack a chuckle behind him– he’s not much of a dancer, but he did pull ace and reia out here for this. you grab the hand that isn’t holding the solo cup of whiskey without waiting for his answer, and yunho takes a sip as you lift it above your head, doing a little twirl. he watches as your hair twirls with you, his eyes lowering to your hips, how your jacket hangs over your elbows, your shoulders on display… he couldn’t say no to you if he tried. 

so he leans in, he dances with you, letting you lead as you sway from side to side, facing him. you have a smile glued on your cheeks, a sheen of sweat laid over your skin, the side of him he keeps tucked away wants to lick it off of you– to feel the taste of you on his tongue, to hear the sounds you’d let out if he did. the thought makes his cock twitch in his pants and he tries to shake it off, tries to force his brain to go elsewhere, but then you’re closer, shoved into him from someone trying to get through the crowd. 

the smell of your hair hits his nose, your front pressed against him, your hands on his chest, he mutters a hushed fuck. it feels even more incriminating than the car ride there, with your thighs laying centimeters from his coc,  with your whole body pressed against his.  the cutest oops, sorry leaves your lips, he’d give anything to put you over his shoulder and carry you upstairs, have his way with you. 

that’s the whiskey talking, he tells himself, as he takes another swig from his cup. 

he knows it’s not. he’s never wanted something, someone, so bad in his life. 

you look up to him, eyes bright and shiny yet hooded and glazed over, he swears you look like you could eat him alive, too. if he just leaned down, he’d finally taste you, know what those glossy lips feel like against his. he finds his head tipping forward before he can fucking think—

“we found you!” he years yeosang before he sees him, his eye twitching on command, ripping his chance from under his feet– did he really want to kiss you for the first time while you’re hammered in a hazy frat house, anyway? yunho thinks he’d take anything at this point. 

“yeo!” you shriek, ripping your hands from yunho’s chest. you take a quick look around, “shit, where are giselle and julie?”

“they just went to get a drink,” yeosang responds, thumb pointing towards the kitchen as if he wasn’t basically pulling you off of yunho, “i passed them on my way here.”

you whine, “this is supposed to be a girl’s night.” you’re off in the direction of the kitchen, and yunho forces himself to stay put. 

“that looked interesting,” yeosang notes, his voice loud over the music, a smirk on his lips as he lifts his can up to his lips, jeongin right on his heel. yunho pulls his shirt from his chest, making sure it isn’t sticking against his sweaty skin, covering his hips until his cock softens completely. 

“cockblock,” yunho huffs, hopefully too quiet for yeosang to hear. 

“no way you just said cockblock with ace directly behind you,” yeosang’s jaw drops, unfortunately hearing him, and jeongin snorts from behind him. 

“your friend group is so… interesting,” jeongin comments, and his head turns to face yunho’s best friend, “ace, you’re seriously cool with yunho trying to bag your sister?” 

ace looks at jeongin like he couldn’t be more uninterested, likely annoyed he had to rip his attention from reia, “yes? what does that have to do with me?” 

jeongin shakes his head, bringing his attention back to yeosang as his hand travels up his waist, “you wanna dance, baby?”

“please,” yeosang responds happily, his head tipping back as jeongin whips him around to face him, and yunho rips his eyes to look anywhere but there. 

“back to the kitchen i go, i guess,” yunho says, facing ace and reia again, the two making yunho even more uncomfortable than jeongin and yeosang had. reia’s finger was tucked into ace’s waistband, her lips pressed to his neck as  ace’s focus turned to yunho. a chill ran through him. 

“you don’t have to follow her around,” ace responds, his hand traveling up reia’s back until his hand is in her hair. yunho forces himself to not make a face. “go find san or something, you’re not babysitting.” 

yunho nods, he knew that already– but what if you find that blonde guy again? or worse, heeseung? 

yunho would be sick to find out that he was right. 

bouncing into the kitchen with a smile etched onto your face, you were expecting to find giselle and julie easily– what you weren’t expecting was to see sunghoon again, this time accompanied by another head of black hair you knew all too well. standing with his back pressed to the kitchen counter, a solo cup in his hand, a lazy smirk playing on his lips, he hadn’t even seen you yet. he was too busy talking to a short blonde girl that stood leaned into him, her front nearly pressed to his, you couldn’t see her face from where they stood but you knew she was drop dead gorgeous. heeseung wouldn’t entertain her if she wasn’t. 

music pumped through the space, charging the air, aiding the adrenaline that pumped through your veins just from seeing his face. you took a deep breath as you ripped your attention away from them, you couldn’t explain the feeling it gave you. heeseung wasn’t shit, he proved time and time again that he wasn’t shit, yet seeing a man who’s been inside you on numerous occasions talking it up with a random girl you didn’t know would never feel good. it’s why you ghosted him in the first place. 

you rounded the island when you didn’t see your two friends, the haze of whoever was smoking a joint in the corner clouding the room, forcing the lights to dim ever so slightly. while you read the labels of several bottles, trying to find the tito’s to pour yourself another shot, sunghoon spotted you before heeseung did. 

sunghoon nudged heeseung’s side, dropping his chin to his ear, “see? i told you she was here.”

heeseung let out a hollow chuckle as his eyes fell on you, “no fucking way she actually showed.”

you felt their eyes, even in your drunk mind you could feel the attention. you looked up, meeting the deep abyss that was heeseung’s eyes, quickly darting your attention between the two men who had their sights set on you. slithering up your spine was something between discomfort and excitement as heeseung pushed past the blonde, as if she didn’t matter, his body clad in all black made its way to you in two strides with confidence oozing off of him. 

watching him walk away from another girl for you? that felt good. 

the smirk that seemed to permanently live on his face was just as attractive as it's always been, placed on a jaw that could cut glass, two gold hoops hanging from his ears, in clothes that fit him just right. he stopped just before you, leaving a space that you’d close by the end of the night, voice dripping with sex as he says, “you really came to see me, huh?”

“i did not come to see you,” you laugh at him, at least trying to put up a fight, words slurring as you say, “‘m here with gi and jules.”

“come on, baby,” he urges, head tilting to the side, displaying a neck you’ve kissed too many times– he knew exactly what he was doing, memories flooding your mind, just as he intended. “you knew where you’d end up if you came here in that sexy little outfit.”

you roll your eyes, yet you knew he was right. you almost forgot he was here in the heat of the night, too drunk, too high off the adrenaline rush of that hoshi guy asking for your number, too confused about yunho. yunho. 

what were your intentions behind texting heeseung in the first place?

that was before tonight. before pong, before the car ride, before dancing with him minutes ago, ending up with your body pressed against his– 

“don’t you miss me?” heeseung asks, moving closer to you until his breath is hot against your ear, plump bottom lip grazing against your earlobe just right, “miss splitting you open on my cock, don’t you miss it too?” 

–but he didn’t whisper any of those words in your ear.

fuck, fuck fuck fuck. your legs cross, thighs pressing together, a squeak of a whimper passing through your lips. you whisper a hushed yes, eyelids fluttering at the nasty words, he’s always been good at dirty talk, always been good at making you fold in seconds.

“then what are we waiting for?” he asks, wasting no time, of course not. this was heeseung, who always gave you maybe thirty minutes just to get liquor flowing through both your veins before he had you bent over his mattress, every single time. 

“tiny!” your neck snaps to the voice, blinking rapidly, uncrossing your legs as if you were caught red handed. you face san who approaches with eyebrows crossed, his jaw locked as if he was pissed– as if you were doing something wrong. his tone is sharp, “what the hell are you doing?” 

“we’re talking, man,” heeseung says from behind you, not giving you a second to speak. heeseung looks down at you with a blank expression, “who is this? your boyfriend?” 

“fuck no,” you respond in an instant, but san cuts you off. 

“i wasn’t asking you, man,” san’s tone is not friendly, his shoulders back, chest puffed out. “where are giselle and julie? ace? yunho?”

“what are you, her keeper?” heeseung spits from behind you, and you wince, knowing this could get ugly quick. you open your mouth to defend san, to tell heeseung to keep his mouth shut– 

“who the fuck are you?” san gets a little louder, catching the attention of people around you. he looks at you, gaze heavy, “this is heeseung, right?” 

you give him a short nod and he laughs, but it's sarcastic, it's angry. he gives you a slight shake of his head, “you can’t be serious.”

“what do you mean?” you ask, your own eyebrows furrowing, clueless as to why he’s on you right now. you’ve told him about your history with heeseung, but you would never expect him to react like this. “like he said, we’re just talking.” 

san purses his lips, giving you a slow nod that was anything but understanding. heeseung cuts in from behind you, “is there a problem?”

as soon as you say no, san says yes. you look at him with wide, shocked eyes, silently telling him to shut the fuck up before he ruins this for you. 

you turn to heeseung, “there’s no problem, he’s just being fucking insane.” your eyes were back on san as you barked the last two words, giving him a nasty look, hoping he’d finally understand and leave. 

“are you seriously gonna do this?” san asks, you feel like you’re missing something under his gaze, by the look he’s giving you, you felt his disappointment all over you. “after everything you’ve told us about him, after tonight, you’re actually gonna fuck him?” 

“everything you’ve told them?” heeseung reiterates from behind you, now you’re sweating. panic and frustration rushes through you, blinking at heeseung who has his eyebrows raised, an uninterested look on his face as if he was preparing to walk away. 

and he would, knowing heeseung. if it was too complicated, if it wasn’t easy— he would turn around and leave you be, probably go find that blonde girl and split her open. his words linger in your head, the feeling they gave you, the heat that spread throughout your core that you couldn’t ignore, you could not let that be ripped away from you. 

you have it at your fingertips– a hookup, a fuck, someone to distract you from every feeling that’s been rushing through your body, every thought that’s tangled up in your head. you needed the release, you needed the fuck, you needed to be exorcised of your thoughts, your feelings, your confusion. 

you turn your back on san, “i have no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.” 

you hear the dry laugh that leaves san from behind you, and the guilt sits in the pit of your stomach, but your frustration toward him and the need to get laid outweighs it. you’d apologize to him tomorrow. 

that same cocky smile grows on heeseung’s lips again, “been a minute since you’ve seen my room, i redecorated. wanna see?” 

you keep your back turned– you don’t want to see if san walks away, if he stays, the look on his face no matter what he does. you plaster a smile on your face, forcing the feelings away, batting your lashes as you look up to heeseung, “absolutely.” 

you keep your chin tucked as you follow heeseung up the main staircase, letting your hair fall over your face, trying to hide your identity as if your outfit wouldn’t give it away to anyone who knew you. if san was this unhappy about your choice, you couldn’t imagine what the others would say– you wouldn’t put it past them to follow you up here. 

and yet you follow him anyway. 

you shake off any feeling that wasn’t need by the time you reached the platform, following heeseung into his bedroom, which was exactly the same as before. framed posters of old movies and bands hung on his walls, his carpeted bedroom littered by clothes and bath towels, the bed in the center if his room unmade, duvet balled into a lump at the foot. 

“redecorated my ass,” you joke as heeseung sits on his bed, leaning back on his elbows, readjusting his bottom half that sat on the edge. you lock the door behind you after you step inside, getting a good look at the room that was so messy you had to focus on him and only him. 

“had to get you up here somehow,” the same smirk sat on his lips once more, the corner of his mouth bent upward, black hair hung over his temples. the black tee that clung to his abdomen was lifted ever so slightly, his waist peeking out from above his hips, golden skin peeking through. 

you walked forward after a sound of amusement leaves your lips, mouth watering at the sight, “you could’ve just said let’s go to my room.” 

“why not make it fun?” his smirk was full blown now as he sits up, hands coming to wrap around the backs of your thighs as you step between his thighs. your hands find his hair, soft locks tangled between your fingers, maybe you missed him a little. “so sexy in this cute lil’ outfit, you wear this for me?” 

“always so confident,” you huff out, knee bending to rest against his thigh, “the world doesn’t revolve around you, hee.” 

“i’m hurt,” he fakes a pout as his hand slides to the thigh bent over his leg, traveling upward until his fingers tuck under the hem of your skirt, “almost worse than when you blocked me.” 

“you’ll be alright,” you respond, your tone flat. you tug his hair backward lightly, forcing him to look up at you, “are you gonna keep wasting time playing with my skirt, or are you gonna take it off of me?” 

he looks up at you in surprise for a moment, not used to demands on your lips, but he obeys nonetheless. you let your jacket hit the floor as he tugs your skirt down your hips, “fuck, missed you.”

you don’t respond as you unzip your boots, stepping out of them and out of your skirt, crawling onto his lap. you note that they don’t feel as strong as yunho’s beneath you, not as thick, not as hard. you try to shake the thought as your hands reach for his hair again, pressing your lips to his, messy and rushed, being met with plump lips that taste like whiskey and a desperation almost as great as your own. 

you’re fast to grind against him as his tongue pushes past your lips, a groan leaving both of you at the same time, his hands reach around you to smack your ass. you hiss as he bucks his hips into you, breaking the kiss to say, “missed this cute ass.” 

you whine into him as he soothes where he hit you, fingers softly running over your skin, gripping the fat of your ass after. your hands leave his hair to travel over his chest, down his abdomen, before you lift his shirt over his head. 

“someone’s eager,” he says as you get the shirt over his head, “missed my cock that much?” 

“god, shut up,” you say before you attach your lips again, feeling over his bare skin, the ripples of his toned abdomen under his skin. eager, yes, but for him specifically? the whole ordeal was debatable. 

he reaches a hand into your hair, tugging at your roots to pull your head back, staring at you through lowered brows, “since when did you have such a foul fuckin’ mouth?” 

you whimper, eyes glazed over, hips rutting into him. a cocky smile grows, “since i started fucking people other than you.” 

he lets go of your hair just to scoop under your ass and flip you over, your back hitting the mattress, legs immediately spreading for him to slide himself between. denim hits your panties and you mewl, hands searching for his hair, but he grabs your wrists, pinning them over your head. “if you want me, you’ll learn real quick how to speak to me.”

the same smile creeps on your face again, “and if i don’t?” 

“you don’t get to cum,” his eyes are deep, just as glossed over as your own, a need in them you haven’t seen in months. heeseung wants you, yet it doesn’t feel as good as it would’ve back then. 

your chin tips back as a laugh leaves your lips, head digging into the mattress, “so, same treatment as usual?” 

his face drops– his mouth is on yours in an instant with impatience, a newfound hunger, something to prove. his hips dig into you so rough it almost hurts, you whimper into his mouth but he ignores you, hands trailing down your waist to your hips, fingers wrapping around them tight. 

“more,” you mumble against his lips, legs wrapping around his hips tighter, “give me more.” 

he smiles against you, ignoring you as his lips trail down to your jaw, sucking at the skin just below it. you gasp, back arching into him as his fingers grip your hips harder, you wouldn’t be surprised if they left a bruise. his fingers slip under your top, flipping it over your bra, his palms cupping your chest.

it still wasn’t enough. your core throbs, you needed stimulation— you put on your best sexy voice, “hee, need your mouth. please.”

“now you’re begging?” he doesn’t even look at you, “funny.”

you smack your lips, irritated. you wrap your legs tighter around heeseung’s hips, using as much force as you can to flip him over onto his back. much to your surprise it works, he seems equally as surprised as he lands on his back, eyes wide and lips parted.

“what the hell–”

“shut up and lay back,” you order as you adjust yourself on his lap, pulling your top over your head, unclasping your bra with ease, letting it fall to his floor amongst the other articles of clothing of his. his eyebrows furrow as he lays back until they straighten out a moment later, tucking his arms under his head with a smirk, thinking you’re about to get on your knees. 

you wear a wicked smile as you crawl forward instead, panties against his bare abdomen, and his arms come down from behind his head, bent upward to touch your thighs, confusion written across his face. in your best demanding voice, you say, “i said i wanted your mouth.”

his eyebrows raise, too stunned to respond as you crawl forward, thighs landing on either side of his head. you’d only done this once with mingyu, but you think you can pull it off again, you needed to cum and you were not leaving it in heeseung’s hands. 

he groans and you can hear him unzip his pants as you pull your panties to the side, his tongue lolling out just before you spread your legs and sit. it’s simultaneous, the way you moan together, as you get a semblance of relief and as heeseung tastes you. a melody of noises as your hips immediately start rocking against him, feeling his tongue slide between your folds, licking up every drop of wetness that you began building on the ride here. 

you glance over your shoulder, a laugh leaving your lips as you see heeseung pumping his cock, only halfway out of his jeans. you look down at him, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, tongue working at your folds. your voice is nasty, degrading as you speak before you can think about it, “jerking yourself off while you eat me out? pathetic.”

his eyes open in slits, his eyebrows furrowing, groaning into your core. oh, he likes it. the vibration makes a gasp leave your lips in pleasure, rutting your hips harder against him, feeling his tongue flick over your clit. your lips part again, “told me to watch my mouth, here you are getting off to it. what would everyone think if they knew you turned into a slut when someone’s a little mean to you?” 

he groans again, and your head falls back, a moan ripping from your throat. he sucks on your clit and your whole body falls back, putting your weight on your hand to hold yourself up, bucking your hips into heeseung’s mouth. he flicks over your clit again, one hand coming up to grab onto your waist as the other steadily pumps his cock. you can feel it build, for the first time with heeseung, and you’ll be damned if he doesn’t get you there. 

“yes, hee, so good, doing so good for me,” you’re moaning between the praises leaving your lips, “make me cum, wanna cum on your face.” 

he works quicker, his tongue on your core, his fist around his cock. your mouth is watering, you wanted to taste him, but tonight was about you, you wouldn’t let him have the pleasure. as your orgasm builds steadily your moans grow louder, grateful for the music downstairs to drown you out, your eyes keep falling back to heeseung’s cock. hard as a rock, red, angry, heeseung fucked himself as if his life depended on it. 

“don’t you dare fucking cum,” you spit, trying to sound demanding yet his mouth rendered you breathless, weak. you try again, not sounding any more intimidating this time, “hands off.”

he obeys anyhow, his hand letting go of his cock, fingers standing straight up before they make a fist out of frustration in your denial, cock twitching as it laid against his abdomen. you smile as he finally gets you there, eyebrows furrowing and jaw going slack as he puts you right on the cusp, “fuck yes hee, gonna cum, don’t stop.” 

his hands come up to your hips, fingers gripping at the skin as you finally crash over the edge, pulling you into his face harder yet holding you still as your hips buck against his face. your moans are loud, full of pleasure and relief as he drags your orgasm out, his tongue unrelenting from the same rhythm he began with. when you grow sensitive and overstimulation approaches you sit up, hands gripping onto his own to let go of you. 

the moment you’re off his face he’s gasping for air, a weak grip on your thighs for refuge, eyes closed and head softly pressed against his mattress. he smiles, eyes still closed, “that was so fucking hot.”

you crawl off of his chest, laying down on the mattress beside him, slipping your panties off in the process, tone lazy as you say, “take your time coming back to earth.”

he turns his head, finally opening his eyes to look at you, “who the fuck are you?” 

you shrug, clear headed and eased now that you’ve come, “i already told you my piece. are we fucking or what?” 

he’s up in an instant, tugging his pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them off. “can’t believe you still have a nasty ass mouth after coming on my face.” 

“i’d say you can fuck it, but i’d much rather have you inside me,” you bite back, “preferably right now.”

he shakes his head in disbelief, talking under his breath, “like i’m a fucking dog.”

“you can bark for me another time,” you say as he slots himself between your legs, hands gripping onto your thighs.

he lines himself up at your entrance after smearing his cock between your folds, eliciting a gasp from your lips, “won’t be talking all that shit when i’m inside you.” 

“hopefully,” you begin to say, but he rips a moan from your gut as he pushes inside, stealing your words from your throat. he pushes in fully, giving you no time to adjust as he pulls out, fucking into you harshly again. 

he snickers as your noises raise in pitch, mewls and moans leaving your lips one after another. he wears a shit eating grin as he teases, “what was that? what were you trying to say?” 

you try to point your gaze at him, but quickly lose your resolve to argue as the pleasure takes over, you can feel every fucking vein as he fucks up into you, hitting that spot immediately. he’s changed too, his stroke is different, a purpose to his thrusts, something you weren’t used to, something he never gave you before. your arms are reaching for him, fingers clawing at his biceps to come closer, to touch him, to kiss him. 

“pussy so fuckin’ tight, missed it, fuck,” his voice is rough as he leans down to attach your lips, but the kiss is more teeth and spit than anything. you were whining into his mouth as his hips snapped into you, your own fucking him back, hands tangling in his hair, gripping at his roots. you felt insatiable, you needed more, you needed to feel him everywhere. 

he groans into your mouth, a string of spit connecting your lips as he groans out, “pull harder.”

you do, fingers tightening at his roots with a strength you couldn’t control and he groans louder, his head dropping into your shoulder. his thrusts are merciless, the only noise in the room is skin against skin, his hips snapping into yours. your jaw hangs open, silent screams leaving you as he fucks you stupid, so unlike any version of heeseung you’ve had prior to this. you don’t know if you woke him up or if he really is different, but you’re not complaining. 

“want you deeper,” you manage, voice weak and hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

he chuckles as he pushes himself up, your eyes following his biceps as he slips out, “is it ever enough with you?” 

a smile breaks across your face before he turns you over, manhandling you onto your knees, back arched into a geometry equation. he slips back in with ease and a yelp leaves your throat, voice broken as you say, “you’re so– so deep, heeseung, oh my god.”

“keep that fuckin’ back down,” he spits as one of his hands fall onto your spine, pushing you down further. you can feel drool pooling onto his mattress, dampening the sheets beneath you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. you can hear his smile as he says, “talking all that shit earlier, look at you now, just taking it like the cockslut you are.” 

your back arches deeper at his words, noises leaving your lips that you can’t hear anymore, he was right. all you could do was take it as your hand reaches between your legs, rubbing quick circles over your clit, needing to cum again. 

he snatches your wrist, pulling it behind your back, his own fingers replacing yours. his voice is downright mean as he says, “can’t make you cum, right? teach you to watch that fucking mouth of yours.” 

the coil is tightening at a rapid pace, quicker than you thought, and you fight to lift your back as heeseung presses his front over it, effectively keeping you down. “go ahead, baby, cum around my cock, prove those words fuckin’ wrong.”

you can’t delay your orgasm as it crashes over you harder than the first, your vision whites out, ears going deaf, you didn’t know if you were making any noise or the orgasm had rendered you silent. you could barely hear heeseung as he praised, “there you go, good girl, cumming on my cock– so good, fuck.”

your free hand gripped the sheets as your orgasm lasted with heeseung relentlessly fucking into you, dragging it out further. when your hips started bucking away from him he took his fingers off your clit, releasing your hand just to grab onto your hips again, thrusting into you impossibly harder. 

your eyes had long ago closed, limp beneath him, bending however he handled you as he chased his own release, snapping into you so hard you couldn’t process any of it anymore. head somewhere else, so fucked, utterly spent, this was easily the best experience you’ve had with heeseung– a half smile crawls onto your cheeks as he finally groans out, guttural and deep, filling you up. 

it’s warm, comforting, being so full– until you realize you’re full. your eyes peel open, voice raw, “did you just come inside me?” 

heeseung blinks at you mid-pull out, “yeah?” 

“you’re such an asshole,” you mutter, mustering up the strength to lift yourself up after he pulls out fully to flip yourself over. “chivalry is so dead, men don’t even ask anymore?”

heeseung stands before you, cock spent and limp without a care in the world, “chivalry has never existed between us in the first place.”

you manage to stand on wobbly legs, walking yourself to the bathroom connected to his room, answering him through the open door, “and that’s why i stopped talking to you.”

“really?” he asks from his bed, laying down on his back, sounding genuinely curious. “i thought we had a mutual agreement going on.” 

you pee, an attempt to also flush out him, “mutual means you actually discuss it and agree on it, hee.”

he’s silent for a moment, but as you flush, he asks, “can we talk about it now?”

“fuck no,” you say through a laugh as you walk back into his bedroom, relying solely on adrenaline to keep your legs working, “you’re getting blocked again as soon as i walk out the door, but i’m proud of you for learning how to fuck.”

he pouts, “i like the old you better, she was nice.” 

you pull your skirt up your hips with a giggle, ignoring him as you search for your bra, your top. heeseung sits up on his elbows, still completely naked, watching as you zip up your boots, “are you really gonna block me when you leave?” 

you pull your phone from your jacket pocket, unlocking it just to search through your messages until you find his contact, blocking it immediately. you smile at him, “good to see you again.”

you close his door behind you, not giving him another glance, feeling quite literally on top of the world as the music greets your ears again, adrenaline pumping harder through your veins. you make your way down the stairs on wobbly legs, fingers gripping onto the railing, your jacket folded over your arm. 

you make your way to the kitchen in search of another drink, but find giselle and julie instead, who take one look at you before they pull you to the corner of the room. 

“you look like a fucking mess,” giselle whisper-yells, licking her thumbs before swiping them under your eyes, wiping your mascara on her dress. 

julie, who was trying to flatten your hair, is also whisper yelling as she says, “please don’t tell us you fucked him.” 

you just smile— dazed, still wrapped up in a post-orgasm bliss, you proudly mutter, “i came twice.” 

the two of them stopped their movements on your body, taking a step back to look at you, confusion written all over their faces. even if a part of them knew what you had just done, they surely held out hope it wasn’t heeseung.

julie’s jaw drops after a second, her voice high pitched, “twice?!” 

giselle lightly hits julie’s arm before she looks at you with a serious expression, “all of the boys have been looking for you.” 

you groan, head falling backwards, “can i do anything without them breathing down my neck?” 

“you’re kidding, right?” giselle puts a hand on her hip, shifting her weight to one side. “what about yunho?” 

your eyes dart back and forth between the two, completely lost, “what about yunho?” 

giselle takes a second to stare, her face unreadable before it morphs into what you saw on san maybe thirty minutes prior– disappointment. you glance at julie, who’s staring with disdain, her brows furrowed and upper lip bent. when they don’t answer, you flatten your outfit, pull your jacket back up to your elbows, letting out a short breath. 

“it’s fine,” you put on a smile, ignoring their clear disappointment, the sweat on your neck beginning to run cold. “if it’s such a big deal, then no one has to know.” 

giselle shakes her head with tight lips, turning back through the kitchen, slipping through bodies with julie on her heel. your heartbeat quickens, the guilt gets heavier, your thoughts mush in your head— now more people are mad at you, it wasn’t just san anymore, it was your girl friends who encouraged you to go out, who know your situation. what about yunho? the question lingers on your glowing, sweat kissed skin as you step forward towards the island, searching for a bottle. 

a shot or three to take the edge off, that’s what you needed. the whole reason you hooked up with heeseung was to fix the confusion you felt, to force the feelings to leave you, not to make everything worse. there was nothing between you and yunho, there was no reason for you not to hook up with heeseung. ease fills the shot glass in the form of clear liquor, you shoot it back with intention, to lay atop the pit in your stomach and cancel it out. when the first one doesn’t work immediately, you opt for two, which makes for three before your head gets fuzzy all over again. 

floating through bodies, your ears lead you to the living room again, where couches and recliners have been pushed to the walls, making room for the crowd that seemed to be awaiting your return. it welcomed you as you slipped in, making your way through to the middle as if it parted for you, you didn’t see a singular face you recognized and it comforted you. not a thought ran through your head as you let the music guide you, between bodies, moving to the beat as if you were brainless. maybe you were at this point– you wondered what seonghwa would think of you tonight, the actions you made, but the thought was fleeting as you spotted the blonde guy from earlier. 

“hoshi!” you yelled over the music to the blonde whose face was crimson, eyes just as glossed over as your own, smile matching your own, the night seemed to be treating him the same as it treated you. 

he was silent as his hand grabbed onto yours, closing the space between you, his other hand falling to your hip to move together. words weren’t needed as he turned you around, your eyes fluttering shut, feeling your soft skirt against the denim of his jeans. haze wasn’t the word to describe it, you’d left ENA entirely, you might have even left your own body. 

your eyes didn’t open again until you felt his hand grab yours– except it wasn’t his, you realized when you opened your eyes, san stood in front of you with eyebrows furrowed and a tight jaw, he was speaking a mile a minute, but your eyes that were glued to his lips couldn’t make a single word out no matter how hard you focused. his eyes glanced over your shoulder, maybe speaking to hoshi, you couldn’t tell, but you assumed when you felt your bodies come to a stop. 

his jaw tensed, you watched it flex as his gaze came back down to you, eyes pointed and angry. your eyebrows furrowed as your body swayed, not to the music, you had no sense of balance anymore. he was tugging on your wrist now, pulling you through the crowd, your eyes fell to your shoes to manually put one foot in front of the other. 

“are you mad at me?” you managed to ask, unaware of your volume, not sure if you said the words right. 

he looked back with that same look and the pit in your stomach returned with vengeance, “you’re going home.”

you pouted, letting your eyes fall on the crowd, looking anywhere but at san. like a child in time-out is what you felt like, like he was punishing you, like you’d done something wrong. what did you do that was so wrong? you couldn’t place it, you couldn’t remember. no way he’d be this angry about heeseung. you were a grown woman, fully capable of making your own decisions. 

when you made it on the outskirts of the crowd, you asked again with slurred words and eyes that were barely open, “what did i do?” 

he pulled you through the front door onto the deep brown porch, where bodies littered the space, holding cigarettes, joints, solo cups, the ground littered with trash. the cold greets you rudely as you trip over your feet, trying to avoid crushed cans on the ground as you come to an abrupt stop, grabbing onto san’s bicep for leverage, giggles leaving your mouth as you try to catch your balance. 

“you think it’s funny?” his words are sharp, cutting into your laughter, effectively silencing you immediately. it’s sobering– the cold, his anger, the situation that feels serious even if you don't know why.

he pulls his phone up to his ear without waiting for an answer, “i have her, i’m ordering an uber. if you’re coming, let’s go.” 

your eyebrows furrow again, voice coming out in a whine, “i don’t wanna leave! what about the drunk bus?”

he ignores you again, typing something out on his phone. your arms cross over your chest as your legs cross in frustration, looking around the porch, the smells enticing you, asking you to join them. your body turns back to the front door, eyes glancing over the slab of white wood, the thought crosses your mind to just walk back inside. you wanted to dance more, you wanted to drink more, you wanted to do anything except go home. 

you glance back to san, still on his phone, you were sure he wouldn’t even notice if you did. a sly smile crawls onto your cheeks as you step forward, hand on the doorknob to whip it open just as it’s pushed open for you. san’s hand on your wrist pulls you backward as ace steps through the threshold, brown hair a mess atop his head, eyebrows flat and jaw locked, too. great.

“be careful, teens,” san’s words are softer now as he places his hand on your back to push you upright again. reia, yunho and yeosang follow behind ace, stepping over the threshold onto the porch, every single one of them eyeing you down with expressions you couldn’t decipher– yet you knew not one of them was happy. 

you swallow, looking at every face that surrounds you, feeling like the problem. “what’s going on? why are we leaving?” 

“you’re fucked up,” ace responds, his words short, “and you’re pissing me off.” 

your face contorts into immediate anger, words still slurred as you try to keep your balance, “i’m pissing you off? i haven’t even seen you all night.” 

he steps forward, “yet i have everyone and their mother in my ear telling me you’re upstairs with heeseung.”

“so what?” your eyebrows furrow, “i can do whatever the fuck i want.” 

“i’m not fighting with you on the fucking porch of the frat,” ace responds, walking straight past you down the steps of the porch, fingers linked with reia who gives you an apologetic expression as she walks past. 

you follow him down the steps onto the gray lawn, voice growing louder as he gets farther away, “you’re not fighting with me at all, because i did nothing wrong.”

ace ignores you as he walks to the curb, waiting for the uber, and you can feel the anger bubbling up inside you. as you make it to the curb behind him, your voice keeps the same volume despite the closed distance, “are we seriously leaving because i hooked up with heeseung? you’re acting like i killed someone!” 

ace glances at you, his eyebrows still hung heavy over his lids, his gaze heavy and irritated. “no, we’re leaving because you got fucked up and deliberately hooked up with someone who hurt you, tiny. you’re fucking around with people’s feelings, obsessed with this boyfriend thing, it needs to stop.”

you shake your head in disbelief, voice growing even louder, “who’s feelings am i playing with? what the fuck are you talking about?” you look back to yeosang, looking for someone to help, to be on your side, but his lips twist to the side, staring at you with nothing but disappointment, too. “what the hell am i missing here?” 

ace laughs, it’s a hollow chuckle as cold as ice, “who? you spent all night fucking–”

“leave it alone,” yunho cuts in, his voice flat yet demanding, and it grabs ace’s attention immediately. 

ace turns to yunho, his eyebrows in his hairline, “no, it’s not right–”

“i said leave it alone,” yunho repeats himself, his voice dominating, you swallow down your questions, your confusion about yunho controlling the conversation now. you let out a shaky breath, stumbling over your feet again as if you moved– yet you were not moving, standing straight up on the edge of the lawn. yunho turns to you, “we can talk about everything tomorrow, you’re too drunk to understand anything.” 

you blink at him, heartbeat growing quicker, “talk about what? give me something.” 

yunho runs a hand through his hair, eyes twisting into something unreadable, confusion or frustration, something you couldn’t place. “it’s not valid and he’s wrong for it, but he’s trying to stick up for me,” he lets out a heavy breath, “they all are.”

you look around the group, everyone looking up at yunho with surprise on their faces, glancing between you and him. san cuts in, speaking under his breath, “the uber’s here, let’s go.” 

you stand still for a moment as the four of them walk towards the gray mini van, blinking at yunho who hasn’t taken his attention off of you. your voice is quieter now, asking a question you feared you knew the answer to already, “why are they sticking up for you?”

yunho looks down to his shoes, biting his lips for a moment, before he lifts his eyes back up to you. his fingers tug at his shirt, discomfort radiating off of him, “because they know that i love you, and they think that you know it, too.”

wanna go on the next date?

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags :p @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy @yusalterego @velvetring00 @minvxq @moonlightgrleric @unicornwhisperer666 @sunnysidesins @hwashua-luv @hh0320 @moonl1ghtmuse 

[swordscleric]

I'm only halfway through the second phase of Predathos (which, to be clear is an incredible vibe for a bossfight, love a good head & hands/multitarget-same-entity boss) but I cannot shake the feeling of disappointment and just dissatisfaction I have had with this campaign that definitely started with Dusk/Yu, got followed up handily with the first Delilah/Sun Tree fight and then has been unfortunately reinforced with every discussion surrounding the Prime Deities since Hearthdell. This campaign is fascinating to pick apart, I have been really enjoying pulling apart why it isn't working compared to C1 or C2. But as much as I'm having fun dissecting where the worldbuilding has led to the current weaknesses in the gods' argument or reading other people's incisive commentary on the lack of personalities on the Ruby Vanguard's end, the "girlfailure" nonsense, etc etc, man do I wish this campaign was better than it is.

There are so many avenues of improvement -

Matt telling everyone to prep and write characters for this campaign instead of a C2-esque character-focused campaign.

Matt working religious organisations into the world properly.

The cast engaging with Marquet as a genuine location rather than set-dressing.

Otohan, Ozo and the rest of the Vanguard having more than "*insert snappy line here*" for their personalities.

No Delilah.

Bell's Hells having an iota of curiosity for anything outside of their own selves, including but not limited to: the gods, religious worship, the Elemental Titans and why they were sundered, how the people of Exandria feel about the gods, Vasselheim and its role in suppressing information about Predathos, Ludinus Da'Leth's plan and how it would still break the world if they did it in his place

I don't know why all of this fell into place in the way that it did, but it did. We can endlessly speculate why - the cast resting on their laurels after C2, not having enough time between the animated shows and Daggerheart and Candela Obscura and, and, and - but at the end of the day I really do hope that whatever form the final campaign wrap-up takes, they burn the damn questions asking the cast "what if the world was made of pudding and this character and this character kissed?" and instead pick questions that get them to introspect for a potential Campaign 4. Otherwise I don't know what will happen, but it sure as hell won't be Mighty Nein part 2: Issylra Boogaloo.

[venomous-qwille]

A NOTE REGARDING WIKIS AND LORE DOCS

I've mentioned this in Misutamojis before, but just realised there was nothing about it here so:

Please don't create public lore docs or wikis for GITM.

I totally understand that the story is already sprawling and there are a lot of characters to keep track of, but here is my reasoning behind this request:

GITM is still in its very early stages, there is so little that you concretely know about any of the characters/story that it is likely that any character bios people write will be fundamentally incorrect. Same goes for lore about the worldbuilding and the Sight. It's much easier to spread misinfo than fact, and certain stuff in fic is kept deliberately misleading/vague for fun story purposes.

GITM is not a TV show and I am not a showrunner. I am just another DCA fan on the internet who wants to chat about their OCs, I should be allowed to do that without having my every word indexed. To be clear, as I have said many many many many times in the past: people quoting what I say in discord, analysing my casual art/magmas/drabbles, or screencapping casual convos and jokes to pull them apart to dissect details from it makes me really really uncomfortable. If people started screencapping what I say to stick it on a doc for proof of XYZ thing about a character you guys haven't even met yet... I would probably stop interacting on this server point blank. Please imagine how you would feel if people were screenshotting your desktop background to read your filenames so they could theorycraft. That has happened in this server. More than once. Please stop. Your FOMO is not more important than my boundaries.

The intended reading experience for GITM is... reading GITM. Yes sometimes I share my personal headcanons and tidbits for characters, but I promise that all of this stuff will be discovered in fic. I don't want people to learn about Fool's favourite songs from a google doc. I want you to learn about it from GITM. That is why I am writing GITM: to tell you about these characters.

I would like the opportunity to make a GITM wiki myself at some point in the future.

I understand this might be frustrating, I know the lore is overwhelming as it stands. As always, if you have questions about the characters, you are welcome to ask in one of the discussion channels- I don't mind people @ ing me for that- I love talking about GITM! I am always happy to answer new FAQs at length.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

"Past the Curfew"

Pairing: Josh Brolin x Daughter!Reader, Eden Brolin x Sister!Reader, Lewis Pullman x Reader

Summary: For years, she and her father, Josh Brolin, have been locked in an unspoken war—one fought through interviews, leaked headlines, and one song that refused to die. She wrote it in anger. He read it in pain. The world dissected it like a script they had no control over. Now, with his memoir on the shelves and the song resurfacing once again, she makes a choice—to show up, to be seen, and to stand beside him at his book signing.

Inspired by: byob by Sabrina Sterling

Author's Note: Two people liked my last nepo baby fic so I ran with it. Also read Josh's memoir From Under the Truck it's so good.

The first time the song came up on her father’s press tour, she swore she wouldn’t watch any more interviews.

And yet, here she was, staring at her phone screen, watching the clip play out on some entertainment news account.

Josh Brolin sat back in the interview chair, relaxed but tight in the shoulders, like he’d been expecting this question. The interviewer leaned forward, eyes gleaming with the kind of anticipation that only came with discussing someone else’s trauma in a neatly packaged soundbite.

“So, your memoir is incredibly candid about your struggles with addiction and fatherhood. Of course, a lot of people remember the song your daughter wrote byob—”

Josh sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

The interviewer wasn’t deterred. “The lyrics are… raw, to say the least.” A pause for dramatic effect. Then, with careful emphasis, she recited,

‘He’s a man of little honor, pulling signs off people’s yards…’

She shut her eyes.

Josh nodded once, slow. “Yeah, I’ve heard it.”

“Did it hurt to hear that from your daughter?”

He looked down at his hands. “I think it’d hurt any father.” He exhaled, a quiet laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “I mean, she wasn’t wrong. At the time.”

The comments were already flooding in.

Damn, I forgot how brutal that song was.

He’s so mature about it tho, respect.

I need to go listen to it again, that song was wild.

It had been years since the song came out, but the internet never forgot. Every time Josh Brolin did something noteworthy, people dug it back up like it was their personal responsibility to remind her of the worst thing she’d ever written about her father.

She clicked the phone screen off.

The next morning, she was on her own press run for Top Gun: Maverick. She should’ve expected the question.

“You’ve had an incredible year,” the interviewer gushed. “Between Top Gun, your music, and of course, your father’s book coming out—”

There it was.

The interviewer leaned forward. “You’ve been very open about your struggles with addiction. With your father’s memoir out now, how does it feel seeing all of that resurface?”

She took a breath. “I knew it would. I mean, it’s not like it ever really goes away.”

“Especially with that song,” the interviewer added. “It’s trending again.”

A tight smile. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Do you stand by it?”

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t know the answer, but because she knew every word would be dissected.

“I wrote it when I was younger. When I was angry.” A pause. “But I’m not gonna act like it wasn’t true at the time.”

A carefully crafted answer. One she knew would be pulled apart anyway.

Later that night, Eden called.

“You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, stretched out on the hotel bed.

Eden scoffed. “You’re full of shit.”

She exhaled, pressing her palm against her forehead. “It’s just… crazy how that song still follows all of us.”

She thought of the bridge—the line that always stuck with her the most.

"Cycle will continue on, learn to keep the curtains drawn…"

It was never about breaking the cycle. It was about surviving it.

“I didn’t write it to haunt us,” she admitted.

Eden sighed. “I know. But it does.”

Lewis shifted beside her, his hand sliding over her stomach, grounding her.

She didn’t have an answer for that.

Maybe she should call her dad. Maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe some things were too big for a single phone call to fix.

The press cycle didn’t slow down.

If anything, the song’s resurgence made it worse. Every interview, every headline—it all circled back to the same questions.

Do you regret writing the song?

Where do you stand with your father now?

Has he reached out to you?

How does your sobriety factor into all of this?

She learned how to dodge them, how to give just enough of an answer without giving anything real. It wasn’t new. She’d been doing it her whole life.

But then the press started going after Eden.

They cornered her outside a show, flashing cameras in her face, asking if she agreed with the song, if she thought their father deserved it. Eden, who had always been better at keeping her cool, just pushed past them and climbed into the car.

That night, she called.

“You need to talk to him.”

She sighed. “Eden—”

“No, listen to me. This isn’t just about you and Dad anymore. It’s dragging all of us back into it.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Eden’s voice softened. “Then what are you gonna do about it?”

She spent an hour staring at his number before she actually pressed call.

It rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

And then—

“Hey, kid.”

Her throat tightened. “Hey.”

A pause.

“I saw your interview.” His voice was rough, unreadable.

She exhaled, rubbing her eyes. “Which one?”

A quiet laugh. “Fair enough.” Another pause. “I wasn’t mad at what you said.”

She swallowed. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” A beat. “I was mad at myself.”

Her breath caught.

Josh sighed on the other end of the line. “I don’t blame you for writing that song. I don’t even blame people for bringing it up again. I just—” He hesitated. “I hate that I gave you a reason to write it in the first place.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“You were pissed when I put it out,” she muttered.

“You’re right. I was. Because it hurt.” His voice was quiet now. “But you weren’t wrong.”

Silence stretched between them.

She wanted to be angry. Wanted to hold onto the resentment, the pain. But she couldn’t. Not when he was finally saying the words she’d needed to hear for years.

“Are we okay?” he asked after a while.

She blinked at the ceiling, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I think we could be.”

The conversation should have been enough to close the chapter.

She should have felt lighter. Relieved. Maybe even freed from the weight of everything that had been dredged up in the last few weeks.

Instead, she felt like she was standing on thin ice, waiting for the next crack.

Lewis had been watching her carefully since she got off the phone with her father. He hadn’t pushed, hadn’t pried, just pulled her into his arms that night and let her exist in silence. But she knew him—knew the way he worried about her, the way he always seemed to see through the bullshit.

So when he finally spoke up, she wasn’t surprised.

"You okay?"

She rolled onto her side, staring at him in the dim glow of the hotel lamp. “Do you want the real answer or the PR one?”

Lewis huffed a quiet laugh, pushing her hair back from her face. “I want you to be honest with me.”

She chewed on her lip. “I don’t know how to feel.”

"That’s fair." He didn’t look away from her. "But you don't have to figure it out all at once."

She exhaled, nodding. “Yeah.”

But then another problem surfaced.

The next morning, Eden sent her a link with no context.

She clicked it.

And immediately wished she hadn’t.

“Josh Brolin’s Daughter Reacts to His Memoir and THAT Song—‘I Don’t Regret It’”

The article twisted every single thing she had said, painting her as bitter, as if she was still holding onto old wounds that she and her father had already started to mend.

Then there was the kicker:

"Sources close to the actress and musician claim she and her father still have a volatile relationship, with little progress made despite public appearances."

What sources?

Who was feeding this narrative?

Her stomach twisted as she scrolled through the comments.

She’s just riding off her dad’s name, classic nepo baby behavior.

I get that Josh had issues but this girl needs to stop playing the victim.

Didn’t she just get out of rehab? Maybe she should focus on staying clean instead of dragging her dad.

Her fingers clenched around the phone.

She had decided early on: if the press was going to talk about her, let them talk about her showing up.

She didn’t want this moment to be another spectacle of estrangement, another headline twisting the past into something unresolved. She wasn’t hiding. Not this time.

So she let it be known—she would be there, sitting front and center, surrounded by her family.

The media had a field day with it.

Josh Brolin’s Daughter Attending His Book Reading Amidst Resurfaced Controversy

After Years of Public Feuds, Has the Brolin Family Finally Reconciled?

The Song, The Book, The Legacy—A Family’s Fight to Heal

The noise didn’t matter.

What mattered was that she was walking into the bookstore on her own terms.

Josh spotted her the second he stepped onto the stage.

She was easy to find—sitting in the second row, between Eden and Lewis, with Trevor, Kathryn, and their two little sisters sitting beside them. His wife, Kathryn, sat just behind them, her hand resting on his youngest daughter’s shoulder.

It was his whole family, together, here for him.

For a brief second, he had to swallow the lump in his throat.

She gave him a small nod.

He nodded back.

Then, he picked up his book.

"There’s a lot that’s been said about me and my daughter over the years. Some of it true, some of it stretched, some of it twisted into a story we didn’t write. But here’s the truth, from me.

She’s more like me than either of us would like to admit.

She has my temper, my tendency to self-destruct, my habit of letting silence fester instead of just saying what she means. But she also has my fire, my passion, my fight. And she’s had to fight harder than I ever did because I gave her a reason to.

I’ve made mistakes. She has, too. But what I hope people understand is that none of this was ever about blame. It was about survival. And she survived. Even when I made it harder for her. Even when I wasn’t the father she needed. She still fucking survived.

There was a time when I thought we’d never come back from it. A time when I heard that song she wrote and felt like I’d lost her forever. But what I didn’t understand then is that the song wasn’t just about me. It was about her, too. About what we became in the worst of it. And about what we could still be if we made it out the other side.

She’s made it. And I have never been prouder of anything in my life than I am of her.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until Eden reached over and squeezed her hand.

Her father closed the book, looking up for the first time since he started reading.

His gaze found hers immediately. She had no idea how long they stared at each other. Then, Josh did something unexpected.

He reached for the microphone, clearing his throat. “I wasn’t sure if she’d want to, but… if she’s willing, I’d love for my daughter to come up here and say something.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. Cameras clicked.

She blinked. Eden gave her a knowing look. Lewis squeezed her knee. Her two little sisters turned to her with wide, hopeful eyes. And then, before she could think about it too much—she stood up.

The applause was loud as she walked up to the stage.

Josh moved aside, letting her take the mic. She let the noise settle, let the moment breathe. Then, she looked at him.

She could feel the weight of the last few years between them. The pain, the anger, the distance. But now, standing beside him, she also felt everything else.

The love. The fight. The fact that, despite everything, they were still here. She exhaled softly, then spoke.

“I think… if you had told either of us a few years ago that we’d be standing here today, we both would’ve called you crazy.” A small laugh rippled through the audience. “But here we are.”

She looked back at Josh.

“I spent a long time feeling like my dad and I were too different to ever really understand each other. But the truth is, we’re more alike than I ever wanted to admit.”

Josh’s mouth twitched. “You got that right.”

Laughter.

She smiled.

“I wrote that song at a time in my life when I needed to say something, and music was the only way I knew how. I don’t regret writing it. But I also know now that it was never the full story.”

Josh nodded. “It wasn’t.”

She took a breath. “This—us—this is the full story. We’re still writing it.”

The audience fell silent. Then, applause. Loud, real applause. Josh reached over, pulling her into a hug. She let herself sink into it, gripping him just as tightly.

And for the first time in a long time—it didn’t feel like they were fighting against each other.

It felt like they were finally, finally on the same side.

[mushroomerchant]

guys stop making me like porter. i’ve hated him since lovely smacked the shit out of him. stop posting interesting and nuanced dissections of his character and actions. stop noticing the betrayal in his voice when discussing his house, what he viewed as his home, and realizing that the man he viewed as a friend only saw him as a weapon. that, maybe, just maybe, if he could calm down vincent, sam, and lovely, if he could get them to forgive the house for everything it’s done and disregard it’s history as he has done for years, they finally could be happy. he teases vincent for once viewing the house as his family but porter believed the lie and now it’s cracking. he can’t excuse it anymore but he’s spent years of his live staining his soul in cold blooded murder for a man who never cared about him. he was just a knife to him. his devotion would mean nothing if he left, but what good is it to stay loyal to a cause he can no longer defend? he is torn between comfortable cruelty and an unfamiliar world with no one to answer to, a life truly free but aimless. what if he just messes it all up? what if they’d all been right? he’s only knows how to hurt, never heal or comfort. it’s all he’s ever been good at and it’s happening again. maybe for them he can try. for his treasure, he can pull himself together, bare his soul and pray they don’t tear it apart. for treasure, he can be whole.

anyways fuck you porter you british bastard

porta-potty porter looking ass

[veilsofroses]

Mayuri Kurotsuchi x f!reader part 2

warnings: dissection process discussed, suggestive author’s note: mayuri is so interesting and fun to write for, definitely not your conventional kind of guy at all and i love it word count: 1.1k

part 1

︶︶꒷꒦︶꒦︶꒷︶︶

You somehow managed to avoid going under Captain Mayuri’s knife for the time you’ve been the 12th Division’s Fourth Seat. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t stare daggers into you every time you looked. Or that he wouldn’t continue to try to lure you into his lab every chance he got. 

Weirdly enough, though, you didn’t mind his strange antics. You actually looked forward to seeing what the new day brought in this game of cat and mouse you had going on. 

As for your work, your reputation continued to precede you and you met those expectations gracefully. Quickly enough, your knowledge proved to be a valuable asset to the institute and you became a favorite among the 12th Division members. 

Despite all this newfound attention, however, something still nagged at you. 

Captain Mayuri definitely wasn’t shy about his physical attraction to you. He alluded to “scrambling your insides” and made flirtatious remarks in the way a mad scientist who gets turned on by mad science would, “I can’t decide whether I should take you apart or preserve you whole.” You giggle to yourself at the memory. 

But.. sometimes you wished Mayuri would acknowledge your hard work more, your intelligence. His work was your biggest inspiration throughout your time at the academy, it was only natural you sought out his approval, but he hardly gave it. 

The other members warned you not to have high expectations of praise from him, he never would even if they found the cure for soul cancer. 

You sigh, you should really focus on what’s in front of you right now. 

Your hands work meticulously taking apart your new specimen—a menos grande hand that had been preserved before the rest of the body had vanished. 

You slide your scalpel along the side of the palm and around enough to open the skin. You grab forceps and pull the skin open revealing the inside of the palm. You’re about to grab pins to hold the skin open when you feel an immense spiritual pressure reveal itself behind you, causing you to yelp, dropping the pins on the table. 

“Did I frighten you?” you can hear his sly smile. 

You huff, regaining your composure and dusting yourself off. “Please don’t sneak up on me like that or else I might contaminate the specimen,” you say over your shoulder without turning around. 

His steps echo through the lab as he walks up beside you, his hands tucked in his sleeves. He shrugs, “Contaminated or not, no specimens ever go to waste,” he says lightly. 

You do everything not to roll your eyes. 

“You’re angry with me,” he states like it’s the most obvious observation about his latest experiment. Since the first day, he was able to read you easily so you shouldn’t be surprised. 

“What reason do I have to be angry with you?” You try your best to sound casual, you really don’t have a reason to be upset. 

You pick up the scalpel again, cutting a thin piece of muscle from the open palm and placing it on an empty microscope slide. 

You watched him from the corner of your eye as he watched you closely. He looked at you like he was trying to pick you apart just with his stare. You almost expected your limbs to start detaching themselves. 

After what felt like ages, he looks down at the open menos grande hand and spoke. “You know, I read all of your works from your academy days.”

You whip your head towards him, eyes wide. “Yes, all 237 of them,” he answers like he knew your next question. His gaze met yours. You desperately want to know what he thought of them. Of what he thought about that glimpse into your head. 

And like he heard your thoughts again, “Your mind is truly a force to be reckoned with. You brought up theories even I had never considered before, giving me a new lens to view from. You’re brilliant.” He still wore his signature flat smile, his face completely unreadable as he gave you the reassurance you had been praying for. 

Your eyes remain wide, mouth slightly agape. You’re speechless, so surprised he would ever actually admit that. 

“Did I say something strange? I thought you were already aware of the capabilities of your intelligence. Perhaps I am mistaken in my judgment?” 

You shake your head, shaking off your surprise and you look back down at the hand on the table, forceps in hand. 

“No, you’re not. I am aware of it.”

“But?” he pushes. 

“But you just never say anything. I suppose I just wasn’t sure you believed it,” you look down, smiling and shaking your head at how ridiculous you sound. 

Silence fills the space for a moment and you’re convinced he lost whatever faith he had in you. 

“For being so smart, you really are a dumb girl.” 

You turn your head to argue but he snakes his hand around your waist, you feel his long nails graze your back, pulling you into him tightly causing you to drop the forceps. 

Your face burns at his proximity but you meet his gaze. Your hands drop on his chest. His eyes hold a softness that you’ve never seen before. 

“Y/n.” No titles, no condescension. Your name rolls off his tongue like it was made for him to say. “Do I have to sing your praises for you to understand that you’ve become irreplaceable for me? Not only that disgustingly brilliant mind of yours but you. It’s become quite annoying how you take up my mind. Unfortunately, I’m sure that you are all you’d see if you dissected my brain and I’m quite tired of it.”

You’re trying to follow but can’t seem to tell if this is a confession or if you’re about to get fired. 

And your confusion must be written on your face because he deadpans, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. 

“Stupid girl,” his hand roughly grabs your face and he crashes his lips into yours. You freeze, caught off guard by his surprisingly soft lips, but you finally melt into the kiss, returning it with the same intensity. 

After a moment, you both finally pull away. You feel his chest rise and fall heavily, his heart beating in his chest. 

“Based on your current breathing and heart rate, I’d say you like me,” you smirk. 

He simply grabs your waist and throws you over his shoulder, walking towards his lab, “I simply must get to the bottom of why I like you so much.” You giggle, kicking your feet and accepting your fate.

- - - - - - - tag: @stygianoir

[doshi-sukiru]

Divergent au

Yeah..so I made a new au so here we go-

Part 2!

this one I don't think I'll make a fic out of, mainly because I'm already trying to get back to my shadowpeach one (I have NOT forgotten, uni is just a bitch and for some reason I'm procrastinating too much which is scaring me but I can't stop it it's awful-)

So, this was something @/angstychilz and I discussed one day in our megop server and it was basically "what if Megatron and a few other decepticons got captured by the Quintessons while they were on the surface?"

And of course I'm in a chokehold so now you're forced to deal with this horrifying au I twisted with my knowledge of sci-fi / doctor horror.

**TW!! I might get a bit graphic with some details so please tread carefully! I don't want to scare any of you with what I have for this au, it is disturbing in some areas**

So, to start, I've considered that for now, Megatron, Soundwave, and Blitzwing would all be taken by the quintessons to be experimented on, mainly to help the quintessons understand their anatomy and to use it to their advantage in order to help conquer Cybertron (suggestions for other bots to be taken and experimented on is welcome!)

Of course, it is considered that they are different species, and in a way I believe that the quints would see cybtronian's as lesser beings (especially seeing how they managed to persuade sentinel easily with the idea of having more power in return for killing the primes and providing them with energon). This would play a big part during their experimentations, especially with Megatron because he carries a Prime's cog, that too Megatronus's, who was definitely one of their biggest enemies.

Megs and the others are kept with other mechs, some dead some alive, and they all go through terrible transformations (I'm still deciding how to ruin blitz, especially with his split personality).

I'll just summarize how Soundwave's transformation becomes bc it's really easy- he just goes from tfone sound to tfp sound (angsty's idea), since he has moveable cables similar to the quint's tentacles. He is still in control of his body and mind, and even holds conversations with Megatron to give him some sense of normality between them, but will black out whenever the quints need him to go scout on cybertron to avoid autobot patrols and seek out new victims.

Megatron's treatment I have more detail on (and why wouldn't I, he's my comfort character I need to detail his agony-). There is no anesthesia, Megatron is staying awake as they tear through his chassis and tear out the cog, forcing him to go back to his cogless form. I will also add that before he was taken, he also lost his right arm in the fight before capture, so he's dealing with two types of pain.

Through that the quints learn that mech body's can shift, so while Megs is sent to recover with the other bots they grab some poor mech and experiment with their cog, and they take their time just experimenting on how to make a cog of their own. This also includes them doing several types of dissections on a lot of mechs, pulling and twisting wires, tearing apart limbs and then forcing them to reconnect after forcing the mechs to transform. Keep in mind none of them are under anesthesia, so it's like an old victorian surgery, you're awake and watching a bunch of aliens piercing through you, dismembering you and forcing you to stay still as they go through your systems and organ parts, and even through your spark (guess how you think they learned that was what kept them alive).

Through all that, once they get some form of a twisted, functional cog that mimics an original one, they immediately do everything they did to those mechs to megatron.

By then, he's no longer filled with rage, but fear. Indescribable fear of whether or not he'd survive this. He was a miner once, and while he had his moments he was always assured by Orion he'd be fine and he'd be safe. Orion's not here anymore, and most of the time Sound isn't either, so he's stuck spiraling in fear.

Obviously he's more resistant against them, but he can't fight them anymore. At the same, his helm is forced open, leaving his core processor open for them to dig in and used what memories he has to twist him into a more submissive mech, especially his momentary regret that he got when he shot Orion, and later after dropping him to die. He's forced to endure several procedures, most that left him bleeding out or vomiting blood to the point of exhaustion, and waking up in a tank only to be pulled and put through it again. And again. And again. And again.

Until- they get it right. Now, he looks like a normal mech, similar frame and shape, but with changes. His frame color no longer is a silver/grey hue, it's green with how often he's kept in the dirty cells or in the tanks. His arm got replaced, but with a quintesson-like arm. His voicebox is damaged from the constant tests, so he speaks very little before his voice gets glitchy and incomprehensible.

His body, while accepts the cog and gives him a new alt (flier), will still reject it after a long period of time (consider it between every 8-10 orbital cycles/months), which causes internal bleeding and erratic movement from his body, often times leaving him disfigured and in agony when it occurs. This can range from his body trying to transform mid-form into his alt, to whole on twisting his limbs, or both.

I'll open my inbox for you guys again for this au, I'll do a part 2 for orion's part. But yeah, here's my twisted horror au that I keep a latch on. hahaha-

Bonus art!

[nyerusnova]

Glad to see that Tim being a giant Dick Grayson fanboy is finally being highlighted again, and sparking more discussion especially on their early relationship! (Please gimme more!!! I love them so much, augh!)

Probably as a result of that surge, there seems to be reciprocal chatter on the topic of how young Tim actually felt towards Jason, too. It's honestly pretty interesting, because it's more nuanced than it appears at first glance.

Which means it's very fun to dissect! ✨

There's a degree of subjectivity to keep in mind, because readers are going to have different interpretations of the same scenes, or will pull from entirely different scenes than one another to form their individual view on this topic. That's just how it is in comic book fandom, for many things! Regardless, in this case... if the scale ranges from the extreme of "Jason was Tim's Robin" to the other extreme of "Tim actually hated Jason [as Robin] or thought he was a loser that got himself killed" — the actual truth is closer to the middle, as is often the case.

At least, in my opinion.

Mainly I want to focus on those relatively early days with this post, to highlight Tim's initial(-ish) feelings towards his heroes, and touch on the point at which they really begin to change. This turned into a very long post, though. Brevity is beyond my skill, so grab snacks and water lol. Transcripts for each image will be posted at the very end under the cut.

So, the two storylines I want to cover are "Rite of Passage," which is rolls into "Identity Crisis." (NOT to be confused with the major crossover event "Identity Crisis™" which came years later, and is where Jack Drake dies.... But it sure is an interesting coincidence that Tim deals with the loss of each parent in two similarly named stories!) These take place before Tim is even Robin, and I'll be considering them as one arc for this post.

Detective Comics vol. 1 #618 (July, 1990) -- Pages 1 & 2

"When Gotham needed him, he was there. When the Batman needed him, he was there. He was a hero."

"One day, I'll be as good as Jason. One day I'll wear the suit."

To start off, we have this opening from "Rite of Passage." Tim is still in training here, mainly helping Bruce with minor stuff from the cave. His parents are off traveling, alive and well as of these next few pages. He's still bright-eyed and full of wonder. An extraordinarily weird but ultimately innocent kid.

So his view on Jason is positive and fairly simple: a hero, and someone to look up to as Robin. Clearly, Tim here doesn't think Jason was deficient in his role, either as a protector of Gotham or as Batman's trusted partner.

Moreover, Tim already held Dick in very high regard because he was amazingly skilled before he became Robin. To Tim, that's not something he'll ever be able to achieve. Meanwhile, Jason wasn't like that. He was a regular kid without crazy acrobatic training since practically birth. Yet he still went on to be a hero—which is obviously motivational for Tim who finds himself in similar shoes.

It's true that Tim only ever knew or thought of Jason as Robin, and idolized him in that regard. But that's kind of all that mattered to him at that point, because he was this kid who was utterly star-struck by his heroes. Even if he's technically aware of their shortcomings as people, it's overshadowed by the hero-worship.

It was kind of the same with Bruce as Batman at first. (Which was still enough for Tim to risk life and limb to help his beloved hero, before Bruce even knew his name.) Dick was the only one Tim had any sort of "personal" relationship with beforehand, so there is an extra level of attachment—and hence why it was the nidus for his obsession with Batman. Yet even then, it wasn't like he actually knew anything about Dick as a person until later. Until then, Tim's ideas of him were all he had, too. With Jason, Tim just didn't get to know him at any point before his return (oof), apart from what he heard over the years secondhand (also oof).

Ultimately, it's the loss of innocence—along with the ricocheting bullet that is the unresolved guilt of those around him—that begins to change Tim's perception. Not just of Jason, but of things in general.

Batman vol. 1 #455 (Oct., 1990) -- Page 13

"I know why they do it now. Why they put on the suits, and the masks, and go out into the night. They're angry, they're full of rage. They want to hit back."

Losing his mother was a major shift for Tim, obviously. This is right after the previous storyline, and Tim's had the worst week or two of his life (so far). His monologue here is a reference to what happened to both Dick and Jason. The unbearable pain of loss, the rage masking the grief underneath. And importantly, that he feels both of them were justified in their anger. (And Bruce too, indirectly.)

The major theme of the aptly named "Identity Crisis" is to mirror aspects of Dick and Jason and Tim's lives—to show how they converged onto the same tragic road. It's something that Tim notices early in the story, and was frightened by. Now, horrifically, it's become a part of him as well. His parents are gone, and he was entirely helpless to do anything about it. Dick was the same way, Jason was the same way. The cycle is repeated.

In particular, the part about him wanting to go to Haiti for revenge—for his mother—sort of struck me as being an intentional parallel to Jason and Ethiopia. It's a bit of a stretch, especially in isolation, so others may see it differently (e.g. the angry ramblings of a grieving child that does sound like something anyone might say). But it always stuck out to me because of how much Tim is compared directly to Jason in this arc. More on that below.

It's not something I can really give an accurate feel of because it's a lot of subtle things that begin to add up, so I'd encourage folks to read this arc themselves to see what I mean. (Or maybe you'll still disagree which is fine too lol.) Again, many things are in reference to both Dick and Jason in relation to Tim, but it's weighted more on Jason's side.

Batman vol. 1 #455 (Oct., 1990) -- Page 18

"You think my anger will boil over, the way Jason's did. I can assure you, it won't!"

Tim's grief has begun to pull away the veil of idealism that enshrouded his heroes in his mind. It doesn't apply only to Jason, but to the rest of them. Plus add the fact that Tim's keenly aware that he's being managed, even if the adults around him are careful to not outright say certain things. He still knows.

Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are all worried about Tim potentially turning into "another Jason." They (and mainly Bruce) caution Tim to not ignore his emotions, but they're still concerned that he may be overly eager to prove himself in order to cope, and could get hurt or killed as a result. While they aren't wrong for their caution—especially at how unsettlingly similar all the circumstances are—they aren't very subtle about the elephant in the room.

Imagine how that would affect Tim's perception of his predecessor, especially when he's in the midst of a traumatic event he hasn't had time to fully process. The negative association is pretty much inevitable.

Tim's known from day one that he's walking in Jason's shadow, and now it's become inescapable. Tim went from seeing Jason as a goal to reach, to feeling that unless he surpasses him, he wasn't going to be taken seriously by anyone. However, as of this arc, Tim doesn't even fully come to that point yet.

Batman vol. 1 #456 (Nov., 1990) -- Pages 14 & 15

"Drop-outs don't make it. And dead heroes are no use to anyone!"

It's really easy to take away "Tim totally thought Jason got himself killed" as the main thing here, but I think that's missing the forest for the trees.

First some context: Bruce has gone out on a mission to get Scarecrow, and expressly forbade Tim from doing any shenanigans. Meanwhile, Tim is grappling with wanting to prove himself and trying to help Bruce from the cave, all while trying to deal with his emotions. At some point, he falls asleep and ends up having like... exhaustion-grief hallucinations of Dick!Robin and Jason!Robin who confusingly caution yet encourage him. The main theme of this part is facing your fears.

Depending on how you want to interpret the intent of Jason's dialogue here, you could go several ways with it. Ranging from "writer's feelings towards Jason" to "a peek into Tim's mind as his fears manifest as visions of his heroes" or some mixture thereof.

Though Tim argues with Bruce that Batman needs a Robin, we're shown that Tim is understandably scared of joining Batman's "war." He's still not willing to let Bruce go it alone, though, and that's something he feels more strongly than his fear.

Meanwhile, hallucination!Jason's warnings are a lamentation of what happened to him in a way, but it actually exactly describes Tim's current situation even more so. Unlike Jason, Tim is under-trained, under-experienced, doesn't even have a suit of his own yet. But like Jason, he can't sit by and do nothing while someone he cares about is in danger. Tim knows that if he goes out there, he will probably get himself killed, and it will be his own fault. So he's about to disobey Batman's orders, and fly right into danger. If that got Jason killed, then Tim—who is in a way worse position experience-wise—has every chance of ending up the same.

Like... it's about Jason, but it's also about Tim. It's Tim's worst fears made manifest, via the representation of why he is even here in the first place (Jason's death).

That's my theory anyway, but perhaps this is an overly charitable reading of this scene on my end. (Not that I think that makes me wrong lol.) However given that Grant wrote both parts of this arc, and the beginning of which is especially favorable towards Jason, it certainly is something to ponder. I have a lot of thoughts on it I can't expand on here tbh but perhaps that'll be another post.

Anyway, returning to the point of the similarities vs differences between Tim and Jason: since this is the arc that solidified Tim as the next Robin in comic continuity, it makes sense that the writers really pushed the comparisons between the two of them, specifically. (Even though Dick was pretty similar, as going against Batman's orders is the Robin thing to do, it's not his shoes Tim is directly filling.) So making Tim's "debut" story arc mirror Jason's "swansong" is an obvious narrative choice.

To drive home the parallels, I wanted to include this panel from just a few pages prior to the "daydream":

Batman vol. 1 #456 (Nov., 1990) -- Page 9

"The suit is magic."

That so distressingly close to Jason's famous "being Robin gives me magic" line (Batman #385, page 6). Given all the previous context, it's hard for me to just dismiss it as pure coincidence. Even if it is, the point still stands. Tim is shown having the some of the same heartbreakingly naive views as Jason once did, right in front of Jason's memorial, just as he's about to go and run off into the night against orders.

I think that speaks for itself. There's a lot to take away from it, if you so choose. Especially given the context of that specific Jason arc.

Alright, back to the main course:

So in the end, Tim actually goes out in civvies and a ski mask because if he fails, then at least he wouldn't bring shame to Robin's legacy™. When he gets fear gassed saving Batman, it's once again both Dick and Jason that he hallucinates encouraging him to push past his fear. (Shout out to the fact that he's literally more afraid of tarnishing the legacy of Batman & Robin than he is of dying.... I'm sure this will not be a recurring thing for him in the future.)

Tim's ideology is shown to be similar to Jason's, and the actions Tim ultimately takes are similar to Jason's... but the outcome is different. And it really isn't just "Tim succeeded where Jason failed." At least, that's not what I took away from this. Rather, Tim had no reason to succeed any more than he had to fail, just that he did. Luck combined with caution because he knew what happened to his predecessor, and the fact that Batman was there to finish the job all made the difference.

You could say (and I know some will) that it's just classic Jason character assassination and the writers trying to implore readers that this new kid is different we promise pls don't hate us look how much better he is! But in this case, that feels like it undermines the whole point of this story. It doesn't fit with what the characters actually say.

Thus, we return to the question of how Tim felt towards his predecessor. And the answer is different from where we started, because Tim is different. Not that different though. Because even though at this point Tim—like all the adults around him—has probably attributed Jason "going off on his own" being what led to his death, Tim still thought of him as a hero to look up to. It's about Robin, first and foremost, yes. But Tim is fully aware of the people who made that suit mean what it does, because it's all intertwined.

Batman vol. 1 #457 (Dec., 1990) -- Page 20

"I mean--Dick made it into a symbol the whole world knows. Jason gave his life for it."

Even further, Tim thinks of it in terms of Jason having given his life for what he believed in, for the legacy that now falls to Tim. There's a sense of gravitas there. He's afraid of failing both the Robins who came before him.

Ultimately do I think Tim adored and loved Jason on the same level as Dick or something? No. It's not comparable. (Dick was like part of some of Tim's earliest memories and everything! They have a really unique bond ok.) Yet Tim was also far from thinking poorly of Jason so early on. Frankly, it seems that Tim thought of Jason as a noble hero and a cautionary tale. Yes he took risks and sometimes went too far, generally stuff that Tim doesn't want to repeat and all that. At the same time, Tim still saw him as someone whose legacy and memory was worth honoring.

It's complicated, which is why I like it so much—because it feels real. Having conflicting feelings towards someone is... so human. Especially someone you never got to know, yet who plays such an integral role in your life via the shadow of their death. How can you feel anything but complicated towards them?

It has to be said that, yes, Tim's views—even before Jason's return—change over the years. He becomes more jaded as a person and is surrounded by people who are even more jaded than him... and who often mention Jason as the "failed Robin." It's something that's hung over Tim's head all the damn time. The curse of the Robin mantle.

So it shouldn't come as a surprise that Tim's idea of him becomes more akin to "sounds like a skill issue" as the years go by. All bets are off after Jason's return, and the Titans Tower Incident™. At that point it's firmly "I am better than you, loser" lmao.

And... that's all without getting too into things like authorial intent and general "moods" of different DC writers towards Jason at a given point. Or retcons that played a role in his characterization and how other characters talk about him, depending on what "era" you're reading. That's way beyond the scope of this post though!

TLDR; even though young Tim Drake was obsessed with Dick Grayson as Robin, he still looked up to Jason Todd as well. He didn't think of Jason as a cringefail loser until later. :)

(image dialogue transcripts under cut ↓)

Dialogue Transcript for Image 1 (Detective Comics vol. 1 #618 -- Page 1):

Narration box (Tim): When Gotham needed him, he was there. When the Batman needed him, he was there. He was a hero.

Dialogue Transcript for Image 2 (Detective Comics vol. 1 #618 -- Page 2):

(Scene continued from previous page)

Narration box: But he was nothing special, really. Just a boy, who was taught--trained--brought to his full potential by someone who knew how. Just a boy... like me. I know I can do it. I know I can. One day I'll be as good as Jason. One day I'll wear the suit. One day I'll be a hero.

Dialogue Transcript for Image 3 (Batman vol. 1 #455 -- Page 13):

Tim: I hate him! I hate him! I know why they do it now. Why they put on the suits, and the masks, and go out into the night. They're angry. Full of rage. They want to hit back. They want to fill the hole that's burning inside them.

Bruce: There's more to it than that, son. Much more.

Tim: I know. It's just--I feel--like going to Haiti myself and strangling that creep with my bare hands!

Bruce: The Obeah Man will spend the rest of his life in a prison hospital. He's history. Forget him! But don't fight against your anger. It's natural. Accept it. Live with it. One day it'll be your friend.

Dialogue Transcript for Image 4 (Batman vol. 1 #455 -- Panels from page 18):

Tim: Because you think my mother's death has upset me too much. Well, it did. But I've taken your words to heart. I can cope. You think my anger will boil over, the way Jason's did. I can assure you, it won't. But that doesn't make any difference, does it? Why can't you have a little faith in me?

Dialogue Transcript for Image 5 (Batman vol. 1 #456 -- Page 14):

Narration box (Tim): Blast it! My head's starting to swim. I'm about ready to give up. I almost wish I'd never heard of Batman and Robin!

Vision Dick: Heroes never give up, Tim.

Vision Jason: You know that.

Tim: Dick--! Jason Todd!

Vision Dick: You're training to fight in a war, Tim. It'll last all your life. No matter what, you have to go on fighting.

Vision Jason: Drop-outs don't make it. And dead heroes are no use to anyone! I thought I knew better than Batman. I thought I could run before I could walk. I killed myself, Tim. Because I couldn't wait. Because I couldn't think it through.

Dialogue Transcript for Image 6 (Batman vol. 1 #456 -- Page 15):

(Scene continued from previous page)

Vision Dick: Think, Tim. Concentrate!

Vision Jason: You can do it.

Both: You can do it!

Tim, waking up: What--? Robin...?

Narration box (Tim): I must have been daydreaming. They're right, though. There's a solution to everything. I can find it! So here I go again... Whim. Caprice. Doing something without forethought.

Dialogue Transcript for Image 7 (Batman vol. 1 #456 -- Panel from page 9):

Narration box (Tim): The suit is magic. It gives you power. It hides your weakness. It makes you give it everything you've got. It makes you a hero. If only I could!

Dialogue Transcript for Image 8 (Batman vol. 1 #457 -- Page 20):

Bruce: Are you afraid of it?

Tim: No. It isn't fear. It's more... the suit carries so much history. I mean--Dick made it into a symbol the whole world knows. Jason gave his life for it. Failing them--what they fought so hard to build--that's what worries me!

Bruce: I appreciate that, Tim. That costume weighs a whole lot more than any symbol should... and I'd be failing you if I expected you to bear that weight. So... let me know what you think.

Narration box: A mask has a double edged, he said. It hides your own anxiety as it strikes fear into your enemy.

[bharv]

Well, I'm finally done with DATV.

I promised myself I would write something more significant when I was done. That I would gather all of my thoughts, and write something more substantial.

But I'm here. And I'm just feeling so cold.

I could dissect. I could take time. But what is the point? I could go into more detail about how every positive comes with a negative, how even in the third act, which was significantly better in a lot of ways, the payoffs never really gel together, but again. What is the point here? What is the point, after fifteen years of love for a franchise, of deep engagement and discussion, of wasting my time in pulling apart something which is simply just overproved and underbaked?

I know others will feel differently. I was really hoping against hope until the very last seconds that I would be one of them. But I'm here, cold, feeling like something has been taken forcibly from my heart.

If it were completely without merits, that would be something. But there is so much trace of something else in here that it makes it truly horrible to have landed here, with a game that to me is maybe a 6.5/10, a game that I will probably never play again.

I'm happy to answer questions on it. But I truly cannot believe that this is the end of my love affair with my special interest.

[eyneyke]

Max's comments

Pairing: Max Verstappen x PewDiePie!sibling Summary: What if Felix had a genius brother who works as a RedBull's engineer and is also secretly dating Max part 10 of A Calm to my Storm Masterlist

As the buzz around Sam Kjellberg continued to rise online, Max Verstappen found himself at the centre of it all. His friends and fans had caught wind of the internet’s obsession with Sam, and Max couldn’t resist the urge to play along.

Video #1: Max at a Press Conference

During a press conference following a recent race, a journalist took the opportunity to bring up the fanfare surrounding Sam.

Journalist: "Max, fans have been commenting on your engineer Sam Kjellberg, saying he’s their new crush. How do you feel about that?"

Max chuckled, leaning back in his chair, a smirk spreading across his face. "Well, I can't blame them. Sam’s a smart guy. He’s got a great mind for engineering and… yeah, I guess he’s pretty fit too." The room filled with laughter, and he raised an eyebrow, leaning into the joke. “I mean, those arms do get a lot of attention, don’t they?”

The journalists chuckled, and Max leaned closer to the microphone, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But seriously, Sam is one of my best friends. We spend a lot of time together discussing race strategies and, you know, fixing my mistakes.” He winked, eliciting more laughter from the room.

---

Video #2: Max's Twitter

Later that week, Max took to his social media, posting a photo of himself in the garage, casually posing with his team. He added a cheeky caption: “Can’t do it without my team… especially not without Sam's biceps helping me out. 💪😉”

The comments section exploded.

Fan 103: “Max is so supportive of Sam’s newfound fame! 😂”

Fan 104: “Is this confirmation that Sam is hot? Because I need more evidence!”

Max grinned, reading through the comments. He added another tweet, this time of him working on the car, saying, “The real MVPs are the engineers—especially the hot ones.” He punctuated it with a wink emoji.

---

Video #3: Max on a Talk Show

On a popular talk show, the host couldn’t resist bringing up the topic as well.

Host: "So, Max, what’s it like having the internet thirsting over your engineer?"

Max laughed, shaking his head. “It’s honestly hilarious. I mean, Sam is just doing his job, but I can’t say I’m surprised people are noticing him. He’s got that ‘I could fix your car and still look good’ vibe going on.”

The audience erupted in laughter, and the host continued, “And what about the rumours of Sam being related to PewDiePie? Is that true?”

Max laughed again, leaning forward. “Oh yeah, Sam is Felix's brother. Great guy. But I’ve heard more stories about him than I dare to repeat!” The audience roared, and Max added with a mischievous grin, “Honestly, I think Felix should be the one watching out. He’d have so much to worry about if I started telling what Sam has told me of when they were kids!”

---

Reddit Reactions

The Reddit threads lit up again as fans dissected Max’s comments, eagerly sharing clips and highlighting his playful demeanour.

---

User 105: “Max is literally the best best friend ever. The way he talks about Sam is too funny! 😂”

User 106: “Did he just call Felix out? I’m cackling. Max really said Sam is the hot one!”

User 107: “I love how nonchalantly he drops that Sam is attractive and that he’s his engineer. Like, can he be any more supportive?”

User 108: “I’m convinced they’re dating, and nobody knows. The vibes are too strong!”

---

Max and Sam’s Private Conversation

Meanwhile, Max and Sam enjoyed their moments together, sometimes discussing the latest clips of Max’s press appearances. One evening, after a race, they lounged on the couch in Max’s apartment, both wrapped in a cosy blanket, laughter filling the air.

Sam: “Did you really say that about my biceps? I mean, come on, man. The internet is going to take that and run with it.”

Max chuckled, pulling Sam closer. “What can I say? I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking. You’ve got the arms of a greek god, and it’s just a bonus that you’re brilliant at your job.”

Sam rolled his eyes playfully, trying to hide the smile creeping onto his face. “And nobody knows we’re dating? Still? You’re just out here fueling the fire.”

Max grinned, leaning in to kiss Sam softly. “Let them think whatever they want. It’s fun to watch. And hey, it’s not like anyone suspects that the engineer and the driver are more than just friends, right?”

As they cuddled under the blanket, the warmth between them felt electric. Little did the world know that behind the scenes, their relationship was blossoming into something beautiful, far beyond the banter of the internet.

---

Max continued to tease Sam through interviews and social media, knowing that even though the rumours kept flying, they could still enjoy their hidden relationship without the prying eyes of the public. Fans were left in a frenzy, eager for more, completely oblivious to the truth behind the scenes.

[newcaptainofsquad9]

Was This Vacation a Mistake? ~Crazy Rich Asians( Astrid x black! fem! reader)~Part 4

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Summary: Finally back home, you resume your life as a professor but find yourself still thinking about Astrid and the events of the vacation. Lucky for you, someone comes to spare you of any grief you still had.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag List(I added folks were commented and enjoyed) : @madeleinecamilanightwood16, @ladydragonpurplefire,

Author's Note: Here's part 4 guys. Sorry this has taken so long. I'm going to try and end this fic this year within the next three chapters. Thank you for reading as always. And if you wanna be added or removed from tag List, let me know.

Classes finally started back, normalcy followed and that was all I could hope for. Everything that happened in Singapore is still there, how can I even try to forget it that fast? Rachel promised to speak about it whenever yet she had her own issues to deal with.

Apparently, she called it off with Nick after the debacle in his homeland; the entire situation has had me torn. I'm sure they'll talk it out, or take a long enough break to figure something out. Or maybe it was my fault, I shouldn't have even gone on the trip in the first place and Rachel would have been engaged right now. Nick's family would love her and not turning up their nose at me, her random Black friend.

I know, I shouldn't think like that. Rachel will nag me about it if she saw me here in my office frowning down at a student's paper. My red pink has marked it enough, perhaps a break is in order.

A soft knock rapped at my door. A student perhaps, Rachel would have texted or called if she needed something.

"Come in," I said, eyes still steady on the page.

A clack of heels and the clack of the door shut follows.

"What can I help you with?"

My pulse quickened at who's in my office now. From the heels I suspected an international student and their fancy abundance but here Astrid was dressed in a low cut white top, black blazer and high rise jeans. Her hair was pulled up and her shades sat on her head.

"I had to see you," she said, smiling softly. "How have you been, darling?"

I stood up, put away the paper I was grading and rushed toward her.

Astrid met me halfway, embracing me gently like I was made of glass, like she did when she first hugged me at her house a few weeks prior. It got firmer once she caressed my back, resting her chin down on my shoulder.

"Everything OK?" she whispered. "Nick's been worried."

"No, he shouldn't be," you groaned. "He should focus on himself, did he send you all the way here? W-What about Cassian?"

Astrid frowned. "Did I come at the wrong time? Cassian has the best nannies looking after him, and I wasn't going to be here long. Was my coming here not what you expected, wanted even?"

I caught the twinge of sadden edging in her voice.

"Y-Yeah, it's unexpected but it's not that I wouldn't want it," I tried explaining through burning cheeks. "You being here is great. I think it'll help."

Astrid stepped back, studying me and my office around us. Everywhere her eyes swept caught me with enough self consciousness to scold myself to clean a bit more around here, take some books back to my apartment sometime during another holiday.

"Your office is quaint, reminds me of you," Astrid said, stepping over to a stack of books I had on the cover of my desk that's stuffed with loose papers. "I bet you've read these dozens of times over, dissected them to bits for classes, yeah?"

I just nodded as our eyes met again.

"Yeah, mostly during undergrad and downtime between semesters now," I said. "I usually just read what the board signs off for my classes and short stories for my kids to tear into during discussions. Rachel and I had a little book club during our mfa time here ages ago."

Astrid chuckled. "Ages?"

"Seven years, give or take, ages to me considering where we are now."

"And where are you both right now, y/n?" Astrid said, crossing her arms.

"We're fine," I said a little too quickly. "Rachel just needs her time, and I-I don't want to mess up things more."

"She'd like to know how you're doing."

"Why? Did she beg you to come here?"

"Of course not. Y/N, are you truly all right?"

I bit my lip; that's a simple but loaded question. Astrid's concentration on me wasn't helping with me being entirely truthful either.

"Not really, no," I admitted.

"I'm so sorry, darling," Astrid said. "Do you have plans or classes for the rest of the day?"

"Well, I have another half hour of office hours."

"Have they really be in and out of here as of late, dear?"

Astrid stepped back over to the door, peeking from under my blinds for some sort of added measure.

"Ok, I guess my office hours are over today," I said, returning to my desk to push the paper I was grading back into my folder. "The rest of my schedule is clear. Did you have something in mind, Astrid?"

"Let me get your mind off of things, let me take you out?"

My face flushed at her words; she doesn't mean what I think she means, right?

"A-Are you asking me out, Astrid?"

"I don't know, if I say yes will that convince you?"

....

Is this a date or not? I didn't ask, yet the feelings were still there--deep in my stomach, my hands barely worked once we got to the restaurant--a chain not too far from campus.

Astrid even pulled the chair out for me, an act of common courtesy right? Rachel's not here and I can still detect her incredulous stare, hopelessly shaking her head--she'd believe it to be more. Should I text her? No, she needs space, I need to focus on this myself.

"Have you decided?" Astrid said, peeking over her menu. "Or do you need more time?"

"No, I'll have the grilled chicken club sandwich with a side of Mac and cheese."

Astrid nodded. "Great, I'll have the salmon and potatoes."

The waitress returned, took our menus and orders, and deposited our drinks at our sides.

Alone now, our eyes keep meeting and I need to try and not make it as awkward as it already is.

"So, do you usually do chain restaurants when you visit the states? Do you visit the states often?"

"Sometimes I visit when Nick is here and he's with Rachel," Astrid explained. "Not often but they have character to them. Not a lot of them have good options but their fries are a guilty pleasure of mine."

I giggled. "Really? Why didn't you order any?"

Astrid shrugged. "I wanted to try something different. Do you prefer chain restaurants? Or do you like something more lower scale? Higher scale, maybe?"

Her eyes swept to me once she said higher scale, smiling to spread the beauty mark on her face magnificently.

"Oh, I'm much more lower scale," I chuckled. "Still a struggling college student at heart but I'm not cheap as I used to be--I'm not cheap at all but--"

"Darling, I get it," Astrid said, laying a hand over my own. "Although, I hope I can give you a taste of that higher scale."

I wanted to draw back, not voluntarily but a knee jerk reaction; she's saying those things again and it's making me feel amazing. I know she means them but I'm not sure why I feel like she doesn't. Astrid's not like those ignorant people back in Singapore, not like the family who ridiculed you and Rachel. I don't even know if she likes women in that way, perhaps she is and I'm overthinking all of it. Maybe I should have contacted Rachel.

"Y/N? Are you all right?"

I decided to be honest and said, "No, not really. But I don't want it to ruin the night, or our time. We don't have to discuss it anymore, at least not right now."

Astrid started for a moment, thinking before nodding. "Of course, darling."

The waitress soon returned with our food, placing it in front of us before retreating to another table swiftly. My sandwich looked fine, Mac and cheese too but the taste wasn't terrible--not good, mediocre, nothing on Kraft or even what they fed us during grade school.

Astrid must have noticed my displeasure, frowning behind her bite of salmon. "Do you not like it?"

"It's not that good, but I'll manage."

"Do you want to replace it? I can tell the waitress."

I flushed, inching into my seat subconsciously, holding my fork tight. "Astrid, it's all right. I can just eat it."

"Why? I want this to be a great experience with amazing food," Astrid explained. "You deserve it, so why can't you let me do this for you?"

Do I really deserve it? I have been feeling shitty since the vacation in Singapore, since Rachel and Nick's supposed split and since--since I couldn't get over being singled out for something I can't control and shouldn't feel ashamed of being: Black. Black American for that matter.

And here Astrid is being so caring and genuine, willing to spend time and money on me; she does feel more for me more than Rachel or Nick's friend--I'm not entirely sure if it's romantic but there's something more here. I hope I'm not reading this wrong.

"Y/N? Whatever you decide, I'll do it for you," Astrid declared.

"Sure, you can order us some fries. Is it all right if we share?"

Astrid smiled; I could have sworn I saw a hint of red peak through her face.

. . .

After some amazing fries and some superb ice cream (thanks to some convincing from Astrid, flashing another smile and heavy eye contact).

She's even more convincing when we're sharing an Uber, laughing lowly at a joke I told. It wasn't that funny, well at least when Rachel's heard it but she's heard it a thousand times; something minuscule about an old job I had, something dry, something existential. Astrid's laugh though, how close she is and the contact--arms brushing mine due to how smaller the car is or for the fact that she's nudging me--or how she pays attention. I can't look at her without smiling which leads to more of the attention.

"You have a wonderful smile, has anyone ever told you that?" Astrid admitted. We finally got back to my apartment, still talking.

I invited her in without thinking, holding her hand so she doesn't trip over the hitch in the last step going up my floor.

"I think my mom told me before? Lots of times, maybe an ex boyfriend, maybe?"

Astrid scoffed, nudging me gently with her elbow. "I'm serious. Every time I see you, there's something new. Something that amazes me."

I pushed the door open, locking it fast as we both rush inside.

"Are you sure you're serious," I said, leaning against the door. My heart is pumping fast, hyper-like all in my ears. "What's with these things you've been saying?"

Astrid tilted her head. "Y/N."

"You have a child! You divorced someone--you're loaded and gorgeous, and I-I'm--"

"You're a beautiful woman I'm having a great time with," Astrid said, finishing my sentence before the words could come out. "Is my being a divorcee an issue?"

She asked the question with an air of humor and walked away from me, finally giving me a chance to breathe from her intoxication. At my bookcase by the wall that sat ways from the threshold to the kitchen, Astrid's attention swept over it, placing a finger up to the spines of the concealed books.

"No, of course not. I-I that's not an issue. Astrid, I-I-"

Everything's hot, burning, my face especially and I can't speak anymore.

"Darling," Astrid's in my presence again, worried.

"Is it OK if we talk more? If I can ask you more things?"

She nodded and I led her to my tiny sofa across from the bookcase, plopping down on it together; our eyes met yet again.

"Ask me anything, darling," she said. "Anything."

"Well, being divorced doesn't matter," I explained. "I just wanted to ask if you, um."

Sexuality is her business, anyone's personal business that they can choose to tell or keep to themselves. Yet she's here asking me and granting me the chance to get to know her better; I can show her a piece of me that I've only shown to the people closest to me.

"Tonight you were very touchy, encouraging and just overall flirty tonight and I--"

Astrid took my hand, slid so close that our thighs now touched. "And?"

It's obvious. So obvious or I'm just idiotic; Rachel would slap me over the head if she could.

"I-I'm bisexual, my liking includes guys, women, gender nonconforming people and everyone in between and around that umbrella," I explained. My hands couldn't stay still, Astrid saw, tightening her grip and rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. "And I-I'm into you Astrid--it seems like you're into me so, do you like women too or not?"

Astrid giggled. "Darling, I've been flirting with you since Nick and Rachel brought you home. I can tell this is a deep issue to you, so yes. I've married a man before, had boyfriends but I fancy women too. Dated a few in university but--that's not important right now. Y/N I'm mad about you too."

I'm giggling now too. It's an organic head-high, almost doubled over with stomach cramping and mouth hurting. Astrid followed in, hands high now: at my arms then shoulders and to my face; I wonder if she can feel the heat radiating from it and noticed how my laughter stopped.

It just happened. I didn't speak, neither did Astrid. Our lips met.

[blitz0hn0]

Projectionist moment

Writing a fic where Mikoto discovers Fight Club in art school. I'm gonna have to research the Japanese art school uni experience which means I have to learn the language more. Making a small OC for it cuz u meet a lotta ppl in college and also everywhere.

(Chez will learn to spell. One day.)

Because MeMe parallels Fight Club and it's definitely not an accident.

Also the color keying

I don't know anything about living in Japan but I know a lot about the male culture Fight Club represents. I have thoughts about how that might effect a dissociative person seeing themselves in a system from a whole other culture (like how I do with 09 except I know why the fuck things are what they are lol sucks to be a blorbo!). The twist being that he doesn't know that the twist in Fight Club is anything more than fantasy. He certainly wouldn't feel "normal" about it if he enjoyed the themes.

I know rigorous schedules basically Require healthy levels of dissociation (autopilot). Unhealthy levels of dissociation cause blackouts and emotional dysregulation. This would make college difficult, so Mikoto would want a "fun" class to take the edge off. I elect to write about a media class where he reads and watches Fight Club, dismissing Tyler as an "alter ego fantasy" and not understanding/focusing on that aspect. It's all completely foreign to him because A) there is no mainstream culture that truly understand plurality, and B) Fight Club is a distinctly American movie. It's a commentary on that culture, and Mr. Debate and Discussion probably has socially unacceptable things to say about the culture he experiences daily. Since he can't talk about that, he'd probably love a class dissecting foreign media and picking apart something he's disconnected from.

The Narrator and Tyler sharing a body wouldn't be a big deal to him; it's a movie. Instead? He's pulled in by the other characters, how they interact, and how the Narrator acts compared to Tyler. He would wonder why flourish and individuality was punished in some contexts and celebrated in others. He would favor the book for its more in-depth dissection about what "tough guy" culture is. He'd explore the differences and similarities between what life would be like if he had the freedom to act like that. He would continue life as normal, as expected, but something small would shift within him. Judging by how he acts with Fuuta, he'd have disdain for the crude and unprofessional manner of the culture represented in Fight Club.

The plot twist in Fight Club is widely misunderstood but it's also far from the best part of Fight Club, so I wanna write from the perspective of someone who would focus on other things about it. Men are aggressive to each other all over the world, but in different ways. It's not very Japanese to deal with your problems like some brute named Tyler across the ocean. But everyone is brutal to Mikoto sometimes; maybe he wants to try it. Even if he has to use his words.

I love clever art. That's not what I'm doing but MILGRAM is a very very very clever media and I want to explore everything. I haven't even scratched the surface yet man.

[myreia]

It's been two years since I played Endwalker. It is the expac that I have spent the most time digesting by far, and I think I still haven't come to terms with just how much I dislike the forced time loop and Kairos for what it does to Venat's general characterization, writing and relationship to the WoL.

I've tried to write a post dissecting this multiple times, but it always ends up becoming a mess because there's just too much to say and the writing I'm discussing is janky and riddled with issues. I'd give Endwalker more grace if it wasn't for this one character and this one plot beat, but because I've received backlash for being critical of her writing in the past, I'm being stubborn about it.

I'm generally pretty flexible about most fictional things, so it is extremely weird to be in a position where this one bit of writing makes me want to chew glass.

Unfortunately Venat is too important to the overall story to ignore or sweep under the rug.

It's her knowing everything in advance that breaks her character for me—the pre-determination from the closed time loop. I wouldn't have issues if she had lost her memories to Kairos, too—in fact, I'd probably love her. If she went into the Final Days not knowing anything about Meteion or the future world, and the Sundering was an unexpected consequence of the Hydaelyn v Zodiark fight (as it is implied in Shadowbringers), then I wouldn't take issue. Or if the game actually cared to show her trying to avert the crisis but nothing works, and make it a "you can't fight prophecy" kind of thing. Or to show her concerns being dismissed by the Convocation and double-down on them not budging and not believing her.

But instead they imply that she followed the WoL's information to the letter to connect the timelines, and didn't tell anyone about Meteion or the Final Days and let her world walk right into that unprepared. And then instead of Hydaelyn's actual summoning and fight with Zodiark, we got a metaphorical cutscene that, while very beautiful, is a pretty shallow musing on 6.0's themes.

I could even give the time travel a pass (even though I think it's a really weak way of giving the WoL the information they need about Meteion) if they didn't let her keep her memories. But the way they do it in game, Venat has no agency in her own story because her actions are pre-determined. It's a prime example of “look at the pretty spectacle and don't think about it too hard”.

I don't think the writing does a good enough job at actually letting you have an organic relationship with Venat. The story is too rushed; the game relies on assumptions, headcanons, and sentimental/meta nostalgia (the "has your journey been good?" line) to make it work, which is why she's such a divisive character. It's personal because we've all fleshed her out in some way with our own ideas. But I didn't leave Elpis feeling like Venat and I were friends or that we were connected. I left feeling like she was a stranger I knew for 24 hours max and somehow she decided that she loved me and put me on a pedestal, then decided to throw out her own world (that she says she loves) for the sake of mine based on a few stories.

This whole premise falls apart for me because the writing never sold me on Hermes' perspective, or that the Ancient's world being a broken paradise doomed for failure. They didn't explore it enough to pull that off. We needed to see the lands beyond Elpis, which is a research facility and should not be considered the norm. Ancient society has its problem for sure; it's an extremely flawed society, but no more than everyone else. This especially falls flat coming after the expac that had Eulmore.

What happened to "to ignore the plight of those one might conceivably save is not wisdom—it is indolence"? Sorry Louisoix, apparently that no longer applies if it's Hydaelyn doing it.

The scenes where Venat talks about her travels and how much she loves the world just don't feel genuine to me at all. I think it is better in FR and JP, but in ENG she sounds like a western tourist who Eat Pray Loved her way across a foreign country and came back "enlightened". Which sucks because out of all the new characters introduced in 6.0, Venat has so much potential! She has the makings of a phenomenal character! But there are too many execution problems, and her writing is hurt by the fact that the game is so scared of you thinking she's flawed. The game's inability for the WoL and the Scions to criticize her actions or view her in anything but a positive light hurts her writing.

I worry a lot about posting this because criticizing Venat's writing hasn't gone well in the past. If I sound sensitive, it's because she carries a lot of ffxiv social baggage for me.

I no longer play with the group I started ffxiv with. A couple people within that group got upset when I started thinking critically about her character because I thought it was interesting to give the WoL a difficult relationship with her. Eventually I had to leave because I couldn't stay in a place where I was being ignored, talked over, and cut out from doing group content because of my opinions about a fictional character.

It was a crappy situation all around tbh, and I don't really ever want a repeat of it.