#don't think it will actually happen but... maybe...

[mit0bee]

malleus would be absolutely heartbroken if you moved away from him in your sleep. forget it being almost forty degrees outside. he'd be ruined. he thinks you're mad at him. he gets zero sleep that night, constantly replaying the last week (he could never forget anything related to you) to see if there was anything he might have done wrong. When you eventually wake up half a foot further from him than he'd like, you roll over to see the poor fae staring daggers into you. "...good morning...?" "did i do something wrong." "what..?" please explain to him that you're not actually upset and that its just wayyyy to hot outside to be cuddled up in a dorm with the only air conditioning being a cheap fan.

leona would also be pretty sour about it, but in more of a petty way. if he can survive the heat, why can't you? he fully understands that its too hot for like 70% of people who go to NRC, but again, he doesn't care. he'll pull you right back to him with a sleepy grumble. "leona. it's so hot." "don't care. 'm lonely." you roll over, trying to push him away from you. but, being the housewarden of savanaclaw came with its perks. like freakish strength compared to the average human. you're stuck with him, whether you like it or not. maybe try calling ruggie? vil is a deviation from the norm, though. he's the one pulling away from you. excessive sweating can cause breakouts, weight loss, and dry skin. he is not dealing with all that, and he's certainly not letting any of that happen to you. "Meine liebe. Please. It's far too hot for this." of course, you didn't care. if the roles were truly reversed, that means you're going to be clinging to him like your life depends on it. the forty degree heat will NOT stop you from loving your beautiful boyfriend. you whined, cuddling even closer, "shhh. just enjoy it." placing a gentle finger on his lips. the playful glint in your eye was hard to ignore, and even vil, with all his stubbornness, couldn't deny your happiness. just one night wouldn't hurt, right? ----------------------------------------------

hi i got bored while sweating in canada </3 why is it 40 DEGREES HERE ARENT WE SUPPOSED TO BE COLD???

[regressionschool]

Owned

Looking down, you still can’t believe what your life has become.

You blink a few times, but nothing changes. There’s still nothing between you and the air except the warm, infantile bulk strapped around your hips. You shift slightly, and the now-familiar crinkle echoes back at you, a constant reminder of who—and what—you are now. You know it’s not dry anymore. It rarely is. But that’s not your concern. That’s Daddy’s job, after all.

You lower your gaze again, just to be sure. Maybe if you stare long enough, it’ll feel less surreal. Maybe, if you study the way your thighs part automatically, the way your tummy sits gently over that ever-present padding, it’ll finally sink in that this is your reality now. But it never does. No matter how many times you look, it still feels like a dream. Or maybe a fantasy. The kind you used to have late at night, alone in the dark, too embarrassed to even whisper them aloud.

Now, that fantasy is your life.

You didn’t think it would ever actually happen. You didn’t think he would ever find out—your Daddy. Not back then. Not when you were still pretending to be someone else. You had a job, a schedule, responsibilities, adult clothes. You played the part so well, didn’t you? But he saw through it. Saw past the tailored slacks and confident smiles and fake independence. He saw the trembling little thing you were underneath. You can still remember the first time he called you out—not cruelly, not unkindly. Just firmly. Confidently. As though it was a fact.

"You’re not meant for all that grown-up stuff, sweetheart. You're meant for this."

Looking down now, you know he was right.

You shift again, still staring. You’ve long since stopped trying to cover yourself when Daddy’s around. He likes when you look like this. He likes knowing you know what you’ve become. He says it’s good for you to really see it. To internalize it. You’ve heard him say that word before, while you sat on the nursery floor, legs splayed, sucking your thumb because your paci was in the wash.

“Internalize.” It sounded like a grown-up word. But you understood what it meant. It meant looking down, just like you are now, and not seeing a shameful accident or a loss of adulthood. It meant seeing yourself. Who you really are.

Daddy didn’t take your adulthood. That would imply you resisted. You didn’t. Not really. Not when it counted. Sure, you squirmed at first. Tried to make deals. Tried to wear pull-ups instead. Begged to keep your clothes on. But Daddy saw through all of that too. He knew exactly how to handle you. He knew how to let you think you were choosing this when, really, you had no choice at all.

Because this is where you belong.

You look down again, just to be sure. It’s still there. It always is. The snug, humiliating embrace of your diapers. The gentle squish reminds you of how long it’s been since Daddy checked you. He’ll be back soon. Maybe he’ll change you. Maybe not. Maybe he’ll tease you about it. Call you his little tinkle factory. Maybe he’ll pat your bottom and ask if someone made a mushy mess for Daddy. Your cheeks flush even at the thought. But you don't look away. You keep looking down.

Because that’s what good littles do.

You used to fantasize about what it would feel like. Being truly taken care of. Being stripped of your burdens. Being made to let go. You never realized how deep it would go, though. How complete the surrender would feel. It’s not just the diapers. It’s not just the feeding, or the naps, or the baby talk. It’s this. This moment. Where you're standing in the middle of a plush nursery, naked but for your diaper, looking down, and feeling... peaceful.

Happy.

Loved.

Owned.

You didn’t used to know what that word meant. Owned. It sounded scary. Harsh. But now you understand.

It means not having to think. Not having to plan or hide or pretend. It means knowing Daddy has already decided everything for you—what you wear, what you eat, when you nap, how you use your diaper. And he always decides right. You used to fight that. You used to crave control. But all it brought you was stress, guilt, and loneliness.

Looking down now, with nothing on your body but the one thing Daddy wants you in, you finally feel free.

That’s the irony, isn’t it? You used to think freedom meant doing whatever you wanted. Saying no. Having choices. But all that ever did was make you anxious and exhausted. Real freedom, true peace, was giving all that up. Putting yourself in Daddy’s hands. Trusting him completely. Even when he makes you sit in your diaper a little longer than you want. Even when he refuses to let you talk like a grown-up, or makes you crawl instead of walk.

Even when he brings his friends over and they laugh softly at the way you blush when they notice how full you are.

Especially then.

You squirm a little, your gaze still fixed downward, and feel the squish between your thighs. It’s heavier now. That familiar ache is back—the one that always follows long stretches of denial and teasing. But you know better than to rub. That’s not allowed. Not unless Daddy says. And even then, it’s only on your teddy bear. Only with his permission. Only while he watches.

You look down one last time.

There it is.

The bulge between your legs. The gentle hug of padding around your hips. The physical symbol of everything you gave up and everything you gained. It’s not just a diaper. It’s your uniform. Your identity. Your status. You wear it like a badge now. Not proudly. That’s too grown-up a word. No, you wear it naturally. Like it’s always been a part of you. Because deep down, maybe it always was.

You don’t know when Daddy will come back. You don’t know what he’ll do when he does. Maybe he’ll scoop you up and carry you to the nursery. Maybe he’ll bend you over the couch and check you with a playful swat. Maybe he’ll coo and pinch your cheeks and tell you how proud he is of his little diaper dumpling.

Or maybe he’ll just smile and say, “Look at my baby. Standing there with nothing on but what she really needs. Just the way she’s meant to be.”

And when he does?

You’ll look down again.

And smile.

[neuary]

You're all I can think of, every drop I drink up.

MINORS DNI!! MINORS DNI!! MINORS DNI!! MINORS DNI!!

contents ⇀ Manager!Mc, AFAB reader, titsucking, fingering, handjob, B.Saja hates your guts (at first but then he starts fucking it), Lots of petnames from him and he calls you 'manager' a lot here, mentions of alcohol, lots of teasing from him, switch reader(and a lil of B.saja), I give him a name here because I refuse to call him Baby Saja the whole time.

side note — im also planning on making a whole lore about how Mc became their manager and yes im calling the reader mc bcs im a LADS fangirl and have grown used to it LOLL

Your impression of him had been sour. 

He'd often express great disliking towards you because a mortal human would be handling their group. And the fact that you made a deal with Gwi-Ma for this job just made you more irritating. 'Human greed as always.' He'd say, as if his words held no hypocrisy. But you'd always try to remain professional, putting up with his mean remarks masked as 'criticism' as well as the obvious glares whenever you're in the same room. 

He hated you and you did your best to work around that.

Your first proper interaction happened late at night when he found you drinking alone in the bathroom. You looked like a mess. Hair sticking out in different directions as tears stained your cheeks, the sight looked absolutely pathetic he just had to sit and watch.

You offer him a drink and he accepts because who says no to alcohol? Well not him.

He drinks with you, watching as you take in sips of the booze directly from the bottle. Nothing he hasn't seen before, human nature at its lowest point. You start to spill out your thoughts, telling him about how hard it is to be their manager, and even if he didn't care to listen you had to let it out as a drunken statement just for tonight.

He listens and may or may not have been reminded of his humanity. He still didn't like you, but you were tolerable as of now.

And from that point on, you'd both drink together late at night in the bathroom, time to time. He let it happen, maybe because the fact that you're drunk means you wouldn't be able to remember much of what he's saying. Or maybe because the company you both shared on the cold tiled floor just felt nice.

Then one night he enters the bathroom and he sees you there fully sober. "Hey." You greet him. Opposed to the usual, "Babbbyyyyyyy!" That'll leave from your lips every time you see a blur of blue hair in your drunken state.

"Not drinking tonight?" He asks, his expression blank as he sits next to you.

"No.. I'll just get a hangover and it'll make the job worse for me."

"We just ran out of booze didn't we?"

"Yeah that too I guess."

Silence falls between you two, and you soon ask him a sober question.

"What's your real name?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Calling you 'Baby' is a little too awkward for me."

"With how many times you've said it, I'm surprised."

Your face flushes as you look down.

"I was drunk those times okay?.. But you don't have to tell me, It's not—"

"Daewon."

You look at him, surprised that he'd actually tell you. "So is it fine if I call you that now?"

"I don't really care." 

Is what he said, though he didn't expect to be caring about it at all now that he has you in his bed. Underneath him, half naked, your panties pushed to the side as his fingers pushed in and out of you. 

"Daewon..!" You'd say in between his thrusts, your face flushed and hidden behind your hands. 

The sight thrilled him, wanting to push you further. 

"I want to see you, manager." He coos, leaning down to tease you more. His free hand moves yours away from your face, you could tell how much he enjoyed your reactions with just his breathing alone. "Well aren't you pretty? Haha.. Want me to go faster?" 

"Mghh..! Please! Fffuck..!! I.." 

"Mm, yeah? What is it manager?" 

"Yyou're.. Aaahh..! Sssuch a prick..mmm!" 

"Watch it, beautiful. I'm the one knuckles deep inside this pussy, do you really think you should be speaking to me like that?" 

God he's such an asshole. But really, that only turned you on. Every taunt that came out of his mouth made you writhe and whine at the palms of his hand, the very same palms that groped at your body, taking your clothes off bit by bit, unclasping your bra as he asks if he can have a taste. 

It came out more teasing than asking though, the shiteating grin on his face as vexatious as ever. "Wanna taste you so bad gorgeous, you'll let me right?" 

"Just do it already..mmghh.." 

"Oh but it seems like you don't want me to." 

"Daewon, I swear to god—Aghh..!" 

You can feel the smirk that forms on his lips as he starts to suck on your chest. 

"You like my name a lot?" He kisses at your collar bone, "Gonna scream it out for me?" He licks down up until your cleavage, his other hand still working on making you cum as the other holds your tit directly at his tongue. He puts it in his mouth, sucking and lapping up at your nipple, letting it go with a pop as he gives the same attention to the other. You continue to whine complaining about the pace he's going, your pussy clenching at his fingers. 

The way your eyes sharply squints at his direction has every vein in his body quiver, the electrifying feeling of it pulsing up until his cock. He needed you, so bad but he still wanted to test how desperate you can get. 

"You're complaining a lot but this cunt tells me otherwise.. hah.. mm, show me how bad you want it yeah?" His hands take a break from fondling your breasts, leading you to feel the bulge in his pants. "Show me.. mm..ah.. I know you want to.." 

You hesitate, because you want to get him back thanks to how pent up he's made you. 

But the look he gave you leaves you torn with the options you had in mind. "Is it my turn to beg?" He chuckles, "You're so cute.. hah.." 

"You're sssoo.. mmghhff..ffuck.. I hate how good yyyou.. aare at thisss.. aaa...nnmmhhh.!" 

"Flattery won't get you anywhere but my cock, gorgeous... Haha.. Keep going, yeah?" 

He pulls your hand onto the tent in his pants, making you more feel more hotter than before. He felt big.. No, he is big. With a face like his you wouldn't expect it at all, and the way he's looking at you suggests that he's intent on making you remember that. 

"Feel that? That's all you." He smiles before kissing you, his lips traveling down to your collar and chest once again. He groans at your touch, smiling against your skin as he feels you give in to his request. "Mmhh.. That's right.. Stroke my cock." 

You place your hand at the base of his bulge before going at the hem of his pants, taking his cock out. You start out slow, teasing him back by grazing your fingertips onto his shaft, softly going up and down. 

"Please. You can do better than that." He whispers directly at your ear, his words coming out more as a demand. 

"You can beg better than that." You bite back, earning another smile from the demon. His fangs are visible as he bites at your shoulder without warning, slobbering it up after with kisses and licks. 

"So it is my turn after all. 'Want it fifty-fifty, is that it?" 

"Mmghh.! ..ahh" You could feel his fingers press harder into your pussy, his thumb bundling up your clit to stimulate you further, "Daewon..ahhh just..mmghh.. ffuhh.. fff..fuckk..!" 

"Fffuhh..ffuuuhh?" He mocks, quickening his pace, "ffuuuckkkkk you? Haha.. mmmghh, that what you want from me, gorgeous?" 

You felt even more flushed with the names he keeps throwing at you, unable to keep up but still unwilling to drown into his control. 

"Yeahh ahhhggg... So what iff..I do?.. You're supposed to..mmm do what I say anyway..ahh.." 

"If you're gonna be so demanding you should try not look so good while getting fingered by me, manager.. haha." His voice was a low, wicked murmur, his breath hot against your ear. Each word sent shivers down your spine, making you arch into his touch instinctively. He chuckled darkly, a sound of pure satisfaction.

"Mmm, you're so responsive, manager... I can feel you clenching.. Craving more." 

You could feel the hard length of him pressing insistently into your palm, a silent promise of what was to come. He was teasing you, pushing you to the brink of desperation with his slow, sensual thrust. He just needed you to beg for it. To really beg for it. To scream your desire out to him so he can finally have you right then and there. You wanted it as bad as he did didn't you? Your pretty face says it all as he tries his hardest to hide the look on himself.  

He drank in the sight. The desperate need written plainly across your features, the hunger that mirrored his own. The thought of it made him twitch, knowing he could reduce you to this state with just his touch and teasing words. His ego swelled at the realization, cock throbbing with anticipation. His lips brushes against yours in a ghost of a kiss, not quite touching but close enough to feel the heat radiating from them. He moves back onto your breasts, the slick of his drool drips down, his eyes stuck to yours. "Come on, gorgeous... mm.." He places a peck on your nipple, "Don't hold back now. I want to hear you scream my name like you mean it.." He heavily sighs, "Fuck, the way you look at me, like you need me more than your next breath... it's fucking intoxicating."

His fingers held both your tits in place, allowing him to suck and lick as he pleases as the other continued stroking and circling your clit. He could feel the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingers, and it took every ounce of control not to simply surge forward and bury himself inside you.

"Daaaewon..mmmm aghh fffuckk..!"

"Tell me how badly you want it, manager. Beg me for it." His voice was a low, dark rumble, sending vibrations through your chest. He nipped at your chest, soothing the sting with a flick of his tongue before pulling back slightly to search your eyes. "I need to hear it.." The tone of his voice almost let out a crack of neediness. 

"The way your pretty face flushes, the way you tremble and moan so sweetly... it's driving me insane. So be a good girl and give me what I want, yeah?"

He punctuated his demand with a sharp thrust of his fingers, pushing deep and curling against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit, the dual stimulation pushing you to the brink of ecstasy. He was close, so fucking close to snapping, to giving in to the urge to just take you. But he needed to hear you say it. 

You soon snap, having enough of his teasing. 

But you didn't dare beg. Hell no. 

You retaliate, squeezing at his cock so suddenly, not enough to hurt but to get a reaction from the demon. His eyes shot open, lips letting go of your breasts as he lets out a strained moan. "Aghhmm..!? What the fuck are y..! Ahhhgg..mmm.." 

You rub your thumb over the tip of his dick, stroking him every few seconds as you switch between both actions. He starts to pant like a dog, too immersed from your touch to even notice that you've switched positions with him. A strangled moan tore from his throat, the sound a mix of surprise and pleasure as your hand tightened around his aching cock. His hips jerked forward, seeking more of that delicious friction, and he found himself momentarily short of words.

"Nnngghh... fuck..." He gasped out, his voice ragged and raw. The feeling of your thumb swirling around the sensitive head of his cock sent electricity up his spine, making him shudder and groan. He was so fucking hard, his dick twitching and leaking, desperate for more. 

The power dynamic had shifted, and the realization sent a thrill of excitement through him. He gazed up at you, eyes glinting with a mix of annoyance and arousal. A smirk tugged at his lips, slowly spreading into a wicked grin. "Hahh.. Playing hard to get? mm.. I didn't tell you to do that..hah.." He chuckled darkly, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you down against his straining erection. He rolled his hips upwards, grinding against your slick heat and letting out a low groan.

You visibly react, shuddering at his length that's underneath your sex. 

"You think you're sooo clever hm? Haha. You have no idea how dangerous it is to tease a demon like this." His voice was a low, seductive rumble, his eyes glinting with predatory intent. 

"Your cock is telling me otherwise." You compose yourself, tugging at his cock sensually. He hisses, the friction making him even more aroused. "Haha.. mgh.. You're sooo cute." You mock, copying the tone of his voice. 

He made no move to reclaim control, instead letting you continue. He arched into your touch, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, allowing you to set the pace. It was a small victory, but a sweet one nonetheless. You could feel your own heart racing in your chest, your breaths in each other's faces as you come closer to have a quick taste of his lips. 

The air was thick with the scent of sex. He could see the hunger in your eyes as you gazed down at him, and it only fueled his own desire.

"So, what now, gorgeous?" He looks up at you, placing a hand on your lower back. 

You remove his touch on you, pinning his hand onto the bed, the back of his head thumps against the headboard. 

Breathless, you gaze down at him as you shift to strip your panties off "Now.. ha.. You sit there and take it." 

He found it adorable. So fucking sexy how you think you could boss him around like this. And honestly he's going to let you. What a sweet little mortal 'putting him in his place' like this when she can barely glare daggers at him in her state. 

"Do your worst princess." 

You crumple up your undergarments, shoving the fabric into his mouth without a second more to spend. He looked very shocked, rightfully so but his cock only felt more harder in your fingertips. 

You position his erection underneath you. Slowly, you sit down, feeling his size sink and throb inside you. You couldn't help but squeal, voice becoming higher in pitch as your breath gets heavy. You convulse onto him, your body fluttering, almost cumming on the spot. 

You move, his cock slipping in and out of you easily because of how soaked you got from his fingers. The sudden motion startles him, his hands fly right at your hips, gripping intensely. 

"Mmmgghhfff..!" The sound of his groans were drowned out by the panties gagging him shut. Your panties, fuck they tasted so good. They tasted like you and he can't wait to bury his face into them. 

"You're such a prick.. mghh.. Always.. haa.. being sso difficult." 

You say in between moans as you ride him, bouncing on his cock. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth around the fabric gagging him. The way you moved on his cock has Daewon mentally reminding himself to hold back, your slick walls gripping him like a vise, made it impossible for him to feel genuinely irritated. 

"Always making..ahh hhh.. Things so difficult for me.. haa.. fuckinggmm.! ssadist.."

He bucked his hips up to meet your downward thrusts, driving himself deeper into you. It was hard not to show the visible look of pleasure across your face, but you made sure to not break, still glaring daggers at him even with the fast pace of your breathing. You muster up a handful of self control to get a handful of his hair, tugging him towards you as you bite into his lip before removing the undergarments in his mouth. The cotton white panties hangs between your teeth as you pull away from him. He lets out a deep sigh, his breathing still shaky, matching yours as well as the way you move on his cock. 

"Aww..haaha.. I wanted to keep that." He grins, drool dripping from his mouth. His hands move to caress your back, a silent praise emitting from the skin ship. 

You drop the panties, using both hands to grip at his shoulders. 

You refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response from you, quickly shoving your tongue down his throat to shut him up.  He kisses back, your sounds clash together as he devours you like a starving man. You keep going, writhing as the taste of him engulfs your mouth like fire. The flavor of sweet mintiness spreads. 

He's the first to pull away, not bearing another second apart from your tits as he instantly smothers them with sloppy kisses. You tug on his hair, groaning curses and fucked out phrases that you don't even realize you were saying. His name felt so good on your tongue. "Daewon.." You'd whine. 

"Daewon.." 

He starts to go faster, fuckinh into you more. 

"Daewon ahh.." 

You match his pace, compelled to experience release. 

At this point you couldn't tell who was in charge, you both gave into your own hormonal urges, ravaging each other like animals. 

"Fuck...O ffuuck.. You feel so good, manager.." He whispers, still having his mouth pressed against your breasts. He just can't get enough. "I'm so close.. ahh.. hhh ha.."  

"Yyyeah? mmm.." You attempt to taunt him. "Already? hahahhh..." 

He laughs, pulling you closer to him, your tits flushed and pressed against his neck as he looks at you with a determined expression, grinning knowingly. "Look me in the eye and tell me.. ha.. you're not as desperate as I am to cum." 

Your smug expression falters, amusing him further. 

"Tell me, manager.." 

"Just..ahhh... mm..kkeep fucking me." 

He lets out another laugh, his smile wider as he thrusts harsher into you. 

"Yes ma'am." 

The pace intensifies and both your expressions drop into uncontrollable pleasure, eyes rolling back as well as squeezing shut once the orgasm in you snaps. Both of you grip on each other as if for your dear life. He felt so good, he felt so fucking good and you didn't know if you hated that he did or not. He was definitely sure however, that you felt the closest thing to heaven. Like a bottle of alcohol, he's sure he'll be getting addicted soon.

Im so sorry, I hope this was worth the wait yall <3

—neu

[chrizzzbang]

All Bets Are Off (And So Are the Clothes)

pairing: (Best Friend) Bang Chan x Female Reader

wc: 5.7k

cw: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (don't do it), teasing

Minors DNI

Summary: At a mutual friend’s party, you and Bang Chan, best friends, make a bet: whoever scores the hottest date wins, and the loser owes the winner anything they want. What starts as playful competition quickly spirals into a night of cocky flirting, failed hook-ups, and an undeniable tension neither of you can ignore. By the end, the bet is forgotten - because some things are worth losing for.

Chan was in your mirror again.

Not his mirror. Yours. In your bathroom. Shirt half-buttoned, sleeves rolled up, head tilted slightly as he examined his reflection like he was prepping for a magazine shoot instead of your friend’s birthday party.

You crossed your arms, leaning on the doorframe. “You’re not seriously wearing that shirt.”

Chan glanced over his shoulder. “Why? Jealous?”

You gave him a slow once-over. “I just think it’s funny that you’ve worn that exact shirt for, like, three birthdays in a row. Are you okay? Blink twice if you're stuck in a fashion time loop.”

“It’s tradition,” he said, smoothing the fabric over his chest. “Also, it brings out my arms. And the arms are where the magic happens.”

You snorted. “Please. The only thing magical about you is your ability to repel women with bad pick-up lines.”

Chan turned toward you with a mock-wounded expression. “Excuse you. I’ll have you know I have incredible success in the field of flirtation.”

“You flirt like someone who learned how from a TikTok compilation.”

“And yet I still pull.”

“Do you?” you asked, brow raised. “Because last time we went out, you spent half the night trying to talk to that girl in the red dress and the other half getting cockblocked by her friend.”

Chan groaned. “Why would you bring that up? I thought we agreed never to speak of Cockblock Carla again.”

You smirked. “You just make it too easy.”

He stepped out of the bathroom, grabbing his rings from the kitchen counter. “If you’re so confident, why don’t you pull someone tonight? Hmm?”

You grabbed your lipstick from the coffee table, applying it slowly in the reflection of the microwave. “Maybe I will.”

“Uh huh.”

“I will.”

“Sure.”

You turned to face him fully, hands on your hips. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said, walking toward you, “that for all your talk, you never actually go home with anyone.”

“Neither do you.”

“That’s because I’m a gentleman,” he said with a wink.

“That’s because you’re emotionally unavailable.”

“Oh, wow. We’re going there.”

The front door swung open mid-bicker, and Felix stepped inside holding a four-pack of canned cocktails. He took one look at the two of you- bickering in the middle of your kitchen, faces close, tone flirtier than it had any right to be- and sighed dramatically.

“Oh my God,” he said. “Do you two ever stop?”

“Hi, Lix,” you called without turning around.

“You know you could just fuck and get it over with, right?” Felix said, cracking a can open.

You and Chan answered in perfect unison: “We’re not fucking.”

Felix pointed at you both with the can. “Exactly. You’re not fucking anyone. And don’t say it’s because the options are bad. You two never hook up. It’s like a weird… abstinence pact with banter.”

Chan made a face. “I hook up.”

Felix sipped. “Not recently.”

“I’ve just been busy,” Chan said, clearly offended.

“Doing what?” you asked. “Being annoying professionally?”

Chan threw a pillow at you. You caught it one-handed and threw it back.

Felix watched this exchange like he was watching a ping pong match. “Okay, here’s an idea. Tonight? Both of you pull. For real. Compete.”

You squinted at him. “Compete?”

“Wingman each other,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Whoever lands the hotter date wins.”

Chan tilted his head, intrigued. “And the loser?”

Felix grinned. “The loser has to do whatever the winner wants.”

You raised a brow. “This sounds like a setup.”

“Only if you’re scared you’ll lose,” Chan said smugly, leaning a little closer. “Are you?”

You hated that your first instinct was to rise to the bait. “Hardly.”

“So?” he asked. “Wanna make it interesting?”

You hesitated. You and Chan had always been flirty, sure- but this wasn’t the usual harmless teasing. This had teeth. And maybe that was why your pulse kicked up a notch when you looked him in the eye.

“Fine,” you said finally. “Whoever lands the hottest person tonight wins. The loser owes the winner… whatever they want.”

Chan’s smile was slow and lethal. “Dangerous offer.”

“I’m feeling confident.”

He held out his hand. “Shake on it?”

You took it.

Big mistake.

His grip was firm, his thumb brushing yours like he knew what he was doing. And suddenly, the air felt thicker. Warmer. Like your friendly little game had just turned into something a lot less friendly.

You didn’t back down. “Hope you like losing.”

He leaned in; voice low. “Hope you like begging.”

You blinked.

Felix walked by sipping his drink. “Gross.”

You yanked your hand back like you’d been burned. “Okay, let's go before I strangle him with his ‘magic’ sleeves.”

Chan followed you to the door, still grinning. “Don’t forget to stretch before the L. Don’t want you pulling a muscle tonight.”

“Oh, I’ll be pulling,” you said sweetly. “Just not what you think.”

Felix groaned. “Okay, okay- no more sex puns until we’re at the bar.”

Chan held the door open for you with an exaggerated bow. “After you, my opponent.”

You rolled your eyes but walked past him, catching a faint whiff of his cologne as he followed behind- clean and warm, like cedar and danger. You shouldn’t have noticed. You definitely shouldn’t have lingered.

The elevator doors were already open when you got to the lobby, but you didn’t press the button yet. Chan stepped in beside you, oddly quiet for a beat.

He glanced at you sideways. “So… just to clarify. Hottest overall or hottest in bed?”

You snorted. “You won’t be taking anyone to bed, so it’s a moot point.”

“I could,” he said with a shrug. “I just value quality over quantity.”

“Oh please,” you said, stepping into the elevator. “You value whatever girl smiles at you for longer than three seconds.”

He grinned. “Well, that’s how I met you.”

You turned sharply. “I did not smile at you.”

“You did. That first party at Minho’s? You laughed at my dumb joke about werewolf astrology and spilled half your drink on my shoes.”

You blinked. “That’s… disturbingly specific.”

Chan shrugged. “I remember the important stuff.”

Your heart kicked once, hard and unexpected.

Just as quickly, he smirked. “Also, I liked the shirt you were wearing. Red. Tight. Distracting.”

“Okay, I take it back- you’re definitely going home alone tonight.”

He laughed and bumped your shoulder as the elevator dinged.

The doors slid open.

You stepped out first, composing yourself like your pulse hadn’t just betrayed you.

It was just a dumb bet. That’s all. A stupid little game with your best friend. Nothing dangerous. Nothing new.

Except for the way Chan looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching. Like this wasn’t just about winning.

Like maybe, just maybe, he was finally ready to lose on purpose.

You and Chan step into the bar like you own the place, the pulsing music wrapping around you like a drug. The air is thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the heady scent of spiced cocktails mixed with just a hint of sweat and anticipation.

“Alright, mission’s simple,” Chan says, flashing that mischievous grin that’s simultaneously infuriating and charming. “We split up, work the room, and whoever lands the hottest date wins. Loser owes the winner... anything. Anything at all.” He winks, and you know he’s already imagining exactly what “anything” will mean.

You shake on it, both of you smug and totally not imagining how badly this bet will backfire.

Without a second glance, you both vanish into the crowd, scanning for targets like seasoned hunters.

You catch sight of Chan immediately, leaning casually against the pool table, eyes locked on a tall blonde with a killer smile. His confidence is magnetic as he laughs at something she says, his hand brushing her arm in that casual, intimate way that says I’m smooth, deal with it. You raise your eyebrows, amused and smug - no way he’s winning tonight.

You turn your attention to the bar, where a dark-haired guy nurses a whiskey, looking dangerously handsome in that effortless way. You sidle up and shoot him a grin.

“Music’s too loud to have a proper conversation,” you say with a teasing smile. “But I’m sure we can manage.”

He laughs, and just like that, you’re flirting, trading quips and stealing glances. There’s something about the way he watches you- like you’re the only person in the room that matters.

You steal a quick look back at Chan, who’s still working his charm on the blonde. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see her glance past him toward someone else, and suddenly she’s excusing herself, leaving Chan standing alone, that brief flicker of confusion crossing his face before he smooths it into a grin.

Your lips twitch into a smug smile. Maybe he’s not so smooth after all.

But then, a flicker of something sharp- jealousy?- bubbles up.

No, not you.

You roll your eyes at yourself and focus back on your whiskey guy, who’s clearly intrigued.

Minutes later, you spot Chan striding over with that cocky grin plastered on his face.

“You’re taken,” he announces as he slides between you and your guy, as if staking his claim.

You blink. “Taken by whom?”

“By me,” Chan says, voice dripping with smug certainty.

You laugh, loud and playful. “You? Please. You wouldn’t land a date with a paper bag.”

He leans in, lowering his voice so only you and your guy can hear. “I’m the reason she’s still single.”

Your guy watches the exchange with amusement, clearly entertained by the show.

You exchange a playful glare with Chan. This is war.

Suddenly, a tall guy with a crooked, devil-may-care smile saunters over, eyes flicking between you and Chan like he’s sizing up a prize.

“Now, this is interesting,” he says, voice smooth as silk. “Mind if I join the party?”

You raise an eyebrow.

Chan smirks. “Depends. What’s the party about?”

He leans in, lowering his voice to a teasing whisper. “Well, I’m thinking... why settle for one when you can have both?” He winks suggestively, and you both catch the implication.

You and Chan exchange a look, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the proposal.

“Appreciate the offer,” you say sweetly, “but tonight we’re on a bet. Two’s company, three’s a crowd.”

Chan grins. “Yeah, plus I’m not sharing.”

The guy raises his hands in mock surrender, backing off with a laugh. “Fair enough. Can’t argue with that.”

You and Chan share a triumphant glance, both secretly relieved.

Then the music shifts to something slow and heavy, bass vibrating through your bones.

Chan’s eyes gleam with challenge.

“Dance-off?” he asks, standing up and holding out his hand.

You grin, grabbing it. “You’re on.”

The dance floor becomes your playground. You move with confidence, hips swaying to the beat, each step a playful dare.

Chan matches you move for move, his body fluid and confident. Then- he’s close. Too close. His chest presses against yours, warm and solid.

His hand slides down your back, fingers tracing light, teasing patterns as he pulls you in tighter.

He grinds slowly, deliberately, every move a silent promise.

The heat between you is thick enough to cut with a knife. Your breath hitches.

Your heart races, cheeks flushing.

You refuse to let him win that easily. With a sly smile, you twist away just enough to catch your breath and flash him a teasing grin.

His lips brush your ear, warm and low. “Told you, I’m just getting started.”

The crowd blurs around you, but you can still see the smirk playing on his lips and the challenge burning in his eyes.

You laugh breathlessly. “Okay, okay. You win the dance.”

Chan’s eyes sparkle with victory as he pulls you closer, body pressing insistently.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmurs.

As the night deepens, so does your flirt war. You trade glances, smiles, and touches that linger just a second too long.

Then, a few more mishaps add to the chaos.

Chan tries to flirt with another girl later, but she shoots him down mid-sentence with a polite but firm “No thanks.” You nearly choke on your drink watching him recover with mock dignity, raising his hands like “I tried” before sauntering back to you.

That crooked-smiling guy reappears, cheekily flirting with both of you again. He leans in close, grinning like he’s got the secret to the universe. “How about a threesome?” he jokes, eyes twinkling.

You and Chan exchange a look, then burst out laughing.

“Not tonight, buddy,” you say, raising your glass.

Chan adds, “We’re in a competition, remember? Can’t risk sharing the prize.”

The guy shrugs, grinning, and disappears into the crowd.

The night spins on, charged with delicious tension and playful challenges- your bet turning into a battlefield of charm, wit, and the undeniable pull between you and Chan.

The bass from the bar thumps faintly in the background, but just outside the bathroom door, the noise softens to a dull roar. You lean against the cool, tiled wall, trying to catch your breath. Your cheeks are flushed, warm from the dance floor and a little from the drinks. Strands of hair stick to your forehead, and your lips still tingle from the teasing smiles and whispered conversations you had just moments ago.

You savour the moment of quiet, closing your eyes briefly, when you hear footsteps approaching- slow, confident, familiar.

Chan.

His voice, low and smooth, breaks the silence before he even rounds the corner. “Hey.”

You open your eyes and meet his gaze. His dark eyes sparkle, slightly glazed but intense. His shirt clings to his toned frame, sweat making his skin glow in the dim light. His hair is tousled perfectly messy, just like you like it. You try to keep your expression neutral, but your heart betrays you, thudding hard against your ribs.

“Hey,” you reply, voice light but with an edge.

You both lean casually against opposite sides of the hallway, pretending the space between you is comfortable when really it feels charged, electric. The kind of silence where the air seems too thick to breathe but neither of you wants to move.

After a long beat, Chan breaks it with a smirk. “So… she was cute, huh?”

Your lips twitch upward. “Yeah? He had great arms… unlike some people I know.” You toss a quick glance at him, daring him to respond.

Chan raises an eyebrow, smirking wider. “Smooth. Not bad.”

You bite back a grin. “Better than your usual.”

His smirk twists into a playful challenge, and he steps a little closer, the heat from his body brushing against your arm. The scent of his cologne mixed with sweat makes your stomach flip.

“Jealous, maybe?” Chan’s voice drops, low and teasing.

You meet his gaze without flinching, eyes sharp. “You wish. Besides, I’m winning this bet.”

A flicker of something unreadable flashes in his eyes - pride? Desire? Both? - and suddenly the playful tone shifts.

“You’re pretty sure about that?”

“Absolutely,” you snap back, voice steady but your pulse quickening.

Chan closes the gap between you slowly, deliberately. His breath ghosts over your cheek. “So sure that you don’t want to back it up?”

You swallow hard, heart pounding in your ears. The world narrows until it’s just you two - a private bubble of tension and unspoken promises.

Your eyes drop to his lips, full and slightly parted. His eyes flick back to yours, dark and burning.

You almost lean in, the space between you vanishing.

Just as your lips are about to meet, the bathroom door swings open.

A girl stumbles out, laughing loudly with a friend, oblivious to the charged moment she’s just shattered.

Chan lets out a short, amused laugh and steps back, regaining his usual cocky grin.

You clear your throat and run a hand through your hair, trying to smooth your flushed face. “Duty calls,” you say, forcing a casual smile.

“Yeah,” Chan agrees, voice still thick with unspent tension.

You both turn away abruptly - you to the bathroom door, he back toward the crowd - but as you part ways, your eyes lock for a brief second longer.

There’s something unspoken there - the thrill of the almost-kiss, the challenge that’s only just begun, and the undeniable spark that has set the entire night on fire.

As you step back into the cacophony of the party, you feel Chan’s gaze burning into your back. You bite your lip, both frustrated and exhilarated. The bet isn’t just about who gets a date anymore - it’s about everything between you.

The music thumped relentlessly as Chan stood close to the girl he’d been flirting with all night- an effortlessly cool brunette with smouldering eyes and a laugh that lit up the dim bar light. They’d been teasing each other for nearly an hour, trading playful touches and sly smiles. He could feel the warmth of her breath as she leaned in, lips inches from his.

Chan’s hand brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. His heart rate spiked- not because of her, but because of you. The memory of your teasing glance, your smirk, the way your eyes locked with his just moments ago. A flash of jealousy, sharp and unexpected, stabbed through him.

He stopped. Mid-kiss. Pulled back slightly, catching the girl’s surprised look.

“Everything okay?” she asked, arching a brow.

Chan gave a half-smile, shaking his head. “Yeah, just-” He hesitated. “Sorry, I need a moment.”

He turned abruptly and slipped through the crowd, weaving toward the bar.

Meanwhile, across the room, you found yourself in a similar situation. The guy you’d been dancing with- a tall, lean blond with a cocky grin and killer moves- pressed closer. His hand slid down your waist, fingers warm and firm. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as the music wrapped around you both.

He leaned in, voice low and breathy. “You’re amazing.”

Your lips parted, ready to respond, but something inside you stiffened. A sudden annoyance flickered to life. Was this just a game? A distraction? A way to prove a point?

You pulled away abruptly, stepping back with a glare.

“Wait- what’s wrong?” he asked, brow furrowed.

You shook your head, brushing off his hand. “Nothing. Just... not feeling it.”

Without waiting for an explanation, you turned on your heel and moved toward the exit, the cool night air calling you away from the noise and the false promises.

Back at the bar, Chan slumped onto a stool, running a hand through his hair. The frustration was thick in his chest. He hadn’t expected this bet to mess with him like this.

He glanced toward the entrance- and saw you slipping out.

His jaw tightened.

You found a quiet corner outside, the night breeze brushing cool against your flushed skin. You took deep breaths, trying to shake off the confusing swirl of emotions.

This wasn’t just about winning a bet anymore. Something between you and Chan had shifted, cracked open.

You couldn’t deny the ache of wanting something more- but what? And with him?

Inside, Chan watched the crowd through the window, his mind racing. The girl he’d been flirting with? She was nice, but not you. His heart thudded painfully at the thought.

He knew you felt it too.

The bet? It was turning into something else entirely.

You stepped back inside briefly, scanning the room until your eyes locked on Chan’s. His expression was unreadable but tinged with something raw, something vulnerable.

Neither of you moved.

No words were exchanged.

The game was far from over, but maybe, just maybe, the rules had changed.

The cool night air hit your face like a welcome splash of reality as you stepped out of the bar, the sounds of the party fading behind you. You weren’t really ready to call it a night, but the restless ache in your chest and the weight of the bet’s fallout pushed you to leave early.

You glanced around, surprised to find Chan right beside you. He’d slipped out just before you, and now there you were- walking the quiet streets together, the world shrinking to the two of you.

Neither spoke at first.

Your footsteps echoed softly on the cracked pavement, the only soundtrack to your uneasy silence.

You stole a glance at him- his jaw tight, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, eyes fixed ahead but somehow distant.

“Why do we always do this?” you finally broke the silence, voice low, tinged with frustration and something softer beneath.

Chan’s lips twitched into a half-smile, but there was no humour in his eyes.

“You mean…” he started, then shrugged. “Keep pretending like we’re just friends?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

“It’s easier,” he said, almost a whisper. “Less messy.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Messy? Yeah. But maybe it’s also because neither of us wants to admit what’s really going on.”

Chan stopped walking, turning to face you under the glow of a streetlamp. His eyes caught yours, serious and searching.

“Fine,” he said after a long beat, “let’s make it interesting. A game.”

Your brow lifted, intrigued.

“A confession game,” he explained. “We take turns telling each other something we’ve never said before.”

You crossed your arms, smirking. “Getting deep already, huh?”

He grinned, the spark of that old teasing Chan lighting up his face.

“Don’t chicken out.”

You nodded, the challenge accepted.

He went first.

“I hate seeing you flirt with other people,” he admitted, voice low and earnest. “It drives me crazy more than I want to admit.”

Your heart skipped, and heat crept up your neck.

You looked down, fiddling with your fingers before meeting his gaze again.

“Well,” you said softly, “I always wonder what would happen if we stopped pretending.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, loaded with everything you both knew but never said.

Chan took a slow breath, stepping closer until the space between you was charged and electric.

“Let’s stop pretending,” he said quietly, voice rough with emotion.

You blinked, startled but unafraid.

The tension broke with a nervous laugh escaping your lips.

“About time,” you said.

He reached out, his hand brushing yours, fingers lacing together effortlessly like they belonged.

The city around you blurred into a soft haze, and for the first time that night, the bet and the games faded into the background.

The cool night wrapped around you like a quiet blanket as you both stood at your apartment door, the hum of the city fading behind you. The streetlight cast a soft glow, pooling over your feet and Chan’s, illuminating the small space where the world seemed to pause.

Neither of you moved for a moment, just breathing in the silence that felt heavier than it should.

Finally, Chan broke the stillness, his voice low but teasing. “So… who won the bet?”

You lifted an eyebrow, a slow, sly smirk curling your lips. “We both lost.”

Chan chuckled softly, stepping just a bit closer, the heat of his body brushing against yours. “Then what do I get?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your heart hammering in your chest as the gap between you vanished.

“You tell me,” you murmured.

Without another word, Chan closed the distance, his hands reaching up to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. His lips found yours with a hunger that made your knees go weak.

The kiss started slow, a gentle exploration - soft, teasing, electric. But the restraint didn’t last long.

His mouth opened against yours, tongues swirling together, messy and desperate, as if trying to make up for all the nights you’d spent apart.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, pressing your body flush against his. The cold night air was forgotten as heat pooled between you, urgent and overwhelming.

Chan’s grip tightened on your waist, fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt, and suddenly you were pushed back against the brick wall of the building, the rough surface grounding you as his mouth left yours and trailed down your jaw, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there.

A low growl vibrated in his throat, and you shivered, your breath hitching.

Your hands slid under his jacket, tracing the strong muscles beneath, feeling every inch of him- hard, warm, needing.

He pressed his forehead against yours for a breathless moment, voice husky. “Been waiting for this.”

You laughed softly, breathless, and reached for his belt, fingers fumbling in eager anticipation.

Before you knew it, you were both tugging at each other’s clothes, stumbling toward your apartment door with shaky hands and wild eyes.

The lock clicked open, and you dragged him inside, shutting the door behind you with a decisive thud.

The room was suddenly smaller, tighter, but somehow freer- a private world where everything you’d been holding back exploded.

Chan kissed you again, deeper and rougher this time, his hands roaming and claiming, marking you like you belonged to him.

The city lights filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm amber glow over your bedroom. Chan’s eyes glinted with that familiar mischievous spark as his fingers brushed the hem of your shirt, dragging it slowly up your body, teasing. His breath was warm against your skin, voice low and teasing. “Still think you’re winning this bet?”

You arched a brow, smirking confidently. “I’m about to make you lose in every way possible.”

With deliberate slowness, he peeled the shirt off, fingers grazing over your bare skin, sending tiny sparks racing through you. His gaze roamed over you as if memorizing every curve, every inch, making your pulse race harder.

You reached out and shoved him gently onto the bed, straddling his hips with a grin. “Shut up and lose properly,” you challenged.

His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips found yours in a hungry kiss- soft and slow at first, then deepening with an urgent hunger that made your knees weak.

He broke the kiss, trailing hot breath down your neck as his mouth landed just above your collarbone. Teeth nipped gently, making you shiver. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips possessively, fingers digging in slightly as he rocked his hips beneath you.

“You like it needy, admit it,” he murmured with a wicked grin.

You laughed softly, arching into him. “You’re the desperate one right now.”

His lips pressed along your jawline as his hands explored, slipping beneath your waistband to cup your bare skin, warm and steady. You gasped when he hooked his fingers inside, slow teasing that built tension like electricity.

You ground down on him, feeling the delicious friction through the thin fabric of his pants. Chan’s hands tightened on your hips, matching your pace with a steady thrust from below.

His mouth found the sensitive spot just above your hipbone, sucking gently, and you bit your lip to keep from moaning aloud. The combination of his touch and that teasing kiss was driving you wild.

“Patience isn’t your strong suit, huh?” you whispered against his skin.

He growled low, lips brushing your pulse point. “Neither is you.”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Chan shifted, lifting you higher so your bare skin met his fully. You felt the hard press of him against you, the heat and weight of his body grounding you both in the moment.

You moved together, slow and deliberate at first- riding him gently, savouring every delicious stretch and friction. His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the arch of your spine, pulling you closer until there was no space between you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging slightly as you kissed him again- lips soft and urgent, tongues exploring, tasting. The bed creaked under your shifting weight as the tension between you thickened, heat pooling low in your belly.

Then you found a rhythm- steady, pulsing, breathless. You felt every inch of him as he thrust up into you, slow and hard, drawing soft gasps from both of you.

Chan’s lips travelled lower, kissing a trail down your neck, your collarbone, pausing to bite lightly along your ribs, leaving teasing marks that made your skin burn with want.

You laughed breathlessly. “Using my thigh as a sneak attack? Classy move.”

He smirked against your skin. “You make me desperate.”

You shifted, sliding off him just enough to change position, kneeling between his legs. His hands gripped your hips, steady and commanding as you lowered yourself down again- slow, savouring the delicious burn of being filled.

His head fell back, eyes closing, lips parted in a silent moan. You leaned down, kissing him fiercely, tongues tangling in a wild dance.

You rolled your hips in slow, tantalizing circles, feeling his muscles tense beneath you, every movement pulling you both closer to the edge.

Then you flipped him onto his back, climbing over him so your bare skin pressed against his. His hands tangled in your hair, tugging you down for a bruising kiss before trailing down your body with heated kisses and gentle bites.

You caught his gaze, panting. “Bet you didn’t expect this much competition.”

He grinned wickedly, voice rough with need. “I’m just getting started.”

His fingers traced teasing lines along your spine as he pinned your wrists behind your back. “Who’s winning now, huh?”

You smirked, breathless but defiant. “I’m the one on top.”

His voice dropped low, thick with desire. “Winning or not, you’re mine.”

Your eyes locked, heat and something softer flickering there.

And then, Chan’s breath hitched, eyes dark and serious as he whispered, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You looked into his eyes, steady but full of need, and answered, “Then take me like you mean it.”

He groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he moved harder, faster- every thrust deep and claiming, every motion a confession.

Your bodies moved together, chaotic and electric, perfectly in sync as waves of pleasure rolled through you both. The sounds you made- the gasps, the moans, the whispered names- filled the room, raw and intimate.

The pace between you both quickened, hot and urgent now, a delicious chaos of skin sliding against skin, breath hitching, and whispered names spilling out in ragged bursts. Chan’s hands gripped your hips tighter, guiding every movement with fierce possessiveness as you rode him, hips rolling in perfect sync.

His voice was rough, barely more than a growl, “God, you feel so good. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

You pressed your forehead against his, gasping, “Then don’t stop now. Show me.”

His lips found your neck, sucking a bruising mark just below your ear as he thrust upward hard, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. The pressure built fast- sharp, deep, overwhelming. You clenched around him, breath stuttering, eyes fluttering closed.

“Fuck, you’re mine,” he rasped, voice low and desperate.

You dug your nails into his shoulders, leaning down to kiss him fiercely. “Always have been.”

The world narrowed to just the two of you- heat, skin, pounding hearts, ragged breaths. The tension wound tighter and tighter until it shattered in a wild, shuddering release that left you trembling and gasping.

Chan followed seconds later, a guttural moan torn from his chest as he held you close, every muscle flexing and relaxing beneath you. You both stayed tangled, the air thick with the scent of sweat and skin, warmth and something tender beneath the heat.

Your breathing slowed, and Chan brushed damp strands of hair from your face, eyes softening as he whispered, “You’re crazy, you know that?”

You smiled tiredly, tracing his jawline with your fingertips. “Crazy for you.”

He chuckled low, pulling you even closer. “Best bet I ever lost.”

You nuzzled your face into his neck, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat against your cheek. “Definitely.”

The first light of morning slipped through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the tangled sheets where you lay- still warm from the night’s wild storm of passion. Your muscles ached in the best way, a delicious reminder of every touch, every whispered word, every stolen kiss.

Chan’s arm draped across your waist, holding you close, his breath soft and even against your skin. You stirred, eyes fluttering open to find him watching you, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

His fingers traced lazy circles on your shoulder as he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss there. “So…” His voice was low, teasing but gentle. “What do you want me to do? I lost the bet.”

You turned your head to look at him, the corner of your mouth quirking up in a smile. Your voice was quiet but certain. “Be mine.”

Chan’s grin widened, all that cocky charm melting into something softer, something real. “Already was,” he said, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

The room was quiet except for your breaths mingling, heartbeats syncing in the calm aftermath of the night’s fire. You snuggled closer, feeling the steady warmth of him beside you.

“You’re lucky I’m nice,” you teased lightly, fingers curling around his hand.

He laughed softly, voice husky. “Lucky is putting it mildly.”

You both lingered there, wrapped in the quiet promise of something new and thrilling, tangled sheets and whispered words the only witnesses to the start of what felt like forever.

The music thumped through the crowded room, laughter and chatter swirling around you as you leaned against the bar, sipping your drink. Chan slid in beside you, that familiar mischievous grin lighting up his face.

Suddenly, one of your friends- Felix, always the instigator- caught sight of you two leaning in, foreheads almost touching, eyes locked with that unmistakable spark.

“FINALLY!” he shouted, drawing a chorus of cheers and teasing whistles from the group.

You both flushed but didn’t pull away. Another friend nudged Chan, grinning. “So... who won the bet?”

Chan’s grin softened, his voice low and warm as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “We both did.”

You smiled into his eyes, knowing this was only the beginning.

[ashrikesthorn]

so this is really old and also pls note i now work from home and that has had me falling off the wagon, but i thought this might help people who drive to work and hate their job and their life with making these things happen (i went 6 days a week for 3-4 months after having never gone to the gym except for maybe a handful of times in like 30 years):

i wanted to change careers (i did, not to what i was planning) and the career i wanted was much more physical, so the 'why' of going to the gym was 'getting the fuck out of this hellscape of a job' and that was a really powerful motivator for me - so get yourself a why, and make it a good one

i found a pre-made workout plan that i literally just looked at before i started working out and did that - i have NO knowledge of gyms or equipment and most of what i was doing was body weight/treatmill/light weights. i had a friend who worked at the gym so i had a non-scary intro to the equipment they had and it was pretty limited so i felt okay about it

i drove past the gym on the way home - my route took me past it so it was kinda like ok this is my stop before home and i made it my routine

i bought a pass that was annual so i felt kinda financially motivated to utilize that thing

i meal prepped (literally the same 3 breakfast/lunch/dinners every day) every sunday by placing a grocery order and then cooking huge batches of 3 meals and then splitting it up - this was actually incredible and the simplicity of it for someone who does not like to cook and is a big snacker was amazing **note: this is the book i used, i found it for free in my lobby one day and just picked three things and that was it, this isn't an affiliate or whatever i just pressed share but the book is 'The No Meat Athlete' by Matt Frazier and Stepfanie Romine if you want something that helped feel satiating and was tasty https://a.co/d/5kS9oz6

i bought a protein powder and a pre-workout that supplemented the pre-gym slump (omg pre-workout is INSANE) and post-gym hunger, and i used the absolutely brutal aggression i had from hating my job as motivation, it was really really helpful

i kept a packed duffel bag in my car at all times so i wouldn't forget anything (changed the dirty clothes for clean in the evening and left it by the door so i wouldn't forget it in the morning)

lastly, i really had to reframe my thinking about gyms and health - i was doing this for me and i FELT my body improve its wellness, it was astounding. i learned to adjust when i was on my period or having a really low mental-health day and allowed that for myself, and i still saw results

the most important parts for me were driving past the gym (i kid you not, if i don't drive past i will not go, i know it's terrible but i can really talk myself out of anything) and having meal-prepped food - i truly could not do it and cook every night, it just wasn't gonna happen

anyway, if anyone reads this and finds it helpful that's awesome, i have lost a lot of my muscle mass and mobility in the last 6 months but this coming week i'm starting up again and i'm really excited for that, i genuinely never felt better and i understood how people started to become ~gym people~ (y'all i was looking at WEIGHTED VESTS....madness)

good luck, friends, i'm wishing you the best <3

how the hell do people work full time AND work out. and also eat. i feel like a dvd player

[aringofsalt]

is this a prompt, i dunno? tommy prepping buck and buck getting impatient and bossy about it because he's taking too long. maybe he even starts trying to direct tommy because he's 'doing it wrong' (he is not)

i'm certainly taking it as one! 💛

~600 words, smut under the cut!

Here's the thing: Buck is not new to sex. He's had a lot of it, across more than half his life. He knows how to make his partners feel good, how to make himself feel good. The importance of communication.

The importance of proper prep. He does know that one.

But it's becoming increasingly difficult to remember why, exactly, it's necessary, because they've been at this for what feels like hours and Tommy is still. Fucking. Going.

Not that Buck isn't enjoying it; of course he is. His gorgeous, sweet, hunk of a boyfriend happily and enthusiastically putting his tongue and fingers to work in ways Buck has only dreamed of? Fantastic. All the new sensations he's been introduced to in the last few months? Ten out of ten, no notes, he's fully obsessed with all of it. Possibly a little too obsessed with it; Tommy is never condescending about it, never overbearing, but he's had to make a habit of getting Buck to slow down and actually listen to his body. Usually that just means being careful, double checking his work before finally letting Buck have what he wants, but every once in a while, it leads to what's happening now.

It leads to Buck, laid back on the pillows, one leg tossed over Tommy's shoulder and the other pulled back against his own chest so he's practically folded in half, while Tommy goes to town between his legs. He'd started by eating Buck out, acting like a starving man at a buffet, bringing Buck to the edge twice before finally backing away. He'd been so open, so lax that Tommy was able to slip one, then two fingers right into Buck's body with no resistance. Buck had expected that to be it, to have Tommy's fingers in him for a few minutes before they moved on.

But that's not what happens.

What happens is that Tommy settles in like he's getting comfy for the evening, resting Buck's bad leg on his shoulder so it doesn't strain. He places gentle kisses on Buck's thigh, nuzzling into the soft hair as his fingers move. It's so much, on the heels of two almost-orgasms, Tommy's fingers dragging slowly inside of him with no end in sight, but it's also not nearly enough, and Buck couldn't stop the whine from leaving his mouth if he tried.

He can't see the smirk on Tommy's face but he can damn well feel it against his thigh, along with the huff of air as he chuckles.

"Patience, Evan," he says, softening the words with another kiss.

"I've been patient," Buck argues. He tilts his hips down as much as he can, taking Tommy by surprise enough that for a few glorious seconds, Tommy's fingers are all the way inside him, giving him that little bit of stretch he's been wanting. But it doesn't last, Tommy gripping his hip and returning to his slow, steady pace.

"Aww, something wrong?"

"Yeah, you're not fucking me. It's been like an hour—"

"Baby, it's been maybe twenty minutes. Tops."

"Okay, it feels like it's been an hour." Buck pauses, sucking in a breath as Tommy nips at his thigh, but at least he picks up the pace a little, strokes a little deeper. "I think you need to—oh, fuck—you need to hurry it up and get up here and fuck me. Properly. Or I'm going to get my dildo and go fuck myself on the couch and you don't get to come at all."

He chances a glance down, unsure if he's crossed a line, but Tommy's gaze is dark with want as their eyes meet.

"I won't even let you watch," Buck threatens, and that's what gets Tommy moving. In moments, he's flipped them over, and Buck is finally, finally full the way he's been wanting all night.

[screamlet]

For the cuddling prompts. 24, which I think could be really interesting, or 11 or 21. Whichever inspires you. =)

omg thank you for this! this is for: cuddling between strangers (24) and post-coital (11). ~600ish words. S3 AU where buck and tommy are strangers who hook up in the direct aftermath of the tsunami. so, uh, kind of related to "in the water" (21), too.

---

In the middle of the night, Tommy wakes up coughing, then gasps for air like he's drowning, then opens his eyes to a guy pinning him to his bed, heavy hands on his shoulders. "You're awake," the guy says, but it's a chant, a rush of words spilling into each other: you're awake you're awake you're awake.

Tommy catches his breath. He moves his hands so he can grab onto the guy's wrists and nod. "You are, too. You're awake. We're here. We're okay."

That shakes the guy—Evan, thank god he remembered his name—out of it. They stare at each other in the dark of Tommy's bedroom, chests still heaving and terror in their eyes. "We're okay," Tommy repeats.

"We're okay," Evan echoes, then lays down next to Tommy again. He's hesitant, now, but Tommy's not; he needed a body tonight and Evan was more than willing, but maybe it's all sinking in (ha). He takes slow, deep breaths as he holds Evan, who's still trembling.

"I can't stop feeling the water," Evan whispers. "Like it's still moving around me."

"I'm here. I'm not moving. I'm not going anywhere."

Evan laughs and gives in, their naked bodies close again under the sheets, but they want warmth, not heat right now. "How long did they give you?"

"Four days. How about you?"

"Three. Um. It's complicated, actually."

"Is it?"

"I'm recovering from something so I'm on light duty with my station now, so." Evan shivers again. "They won't miss me."

Tommy laughs. "Still gotta go to work, you know."

"Three days, then," Evan says. "It's like two steps forward, one step back, like I'd be back at my light duty shift tomorrow except I—"

"You almost drowned in a tsunami?"

Evan nods, and he laughs, too, but Tommy can hear the teariness in his voice. "Can one thing go right?" He catches himself suddenly, and reaches for Tommy's face, his fingers brushing his jawline. "You're pretty okay."

Tommy laughs and leans into the touch, bravely pushes his body closer to Evan's. "I mean, I think so."

"What were you dreaming about?"

He wants to say, don't ask that, but that's—that's why they found each other. A tsunami had hit Los Angeles and Tommy had been in the air when it did, watching the wave sweep through the city like a light breeze. He had been about to land at Harbor after a call and instead watched two helicopters (near the water, at Harbor Station) get swept away like they were nothing.

He was dreaming about bodies. He'd been frantically busy working with dispatch and other houses to report on what was happening on the ground, but he left out one crucial detail: bodies floating everywhere. Some still struggling, some holding on, so many swept away beneath him, so many lifeless ones floating along with the current. That was only yesterday. That's why he can't sleep.

That's why tonight he had wandered to the last queer bar standing and picked up this guy who had cuts and exhaustion all over his face. He looked as haunted as Tommy felt. That's why they ended up in bed together, fucking to forget and holding each other as they remembered.

"Bodies," Tommy says quietly. "That's what I can't stop seeing."

He feels Evan (Evan, Evan Buckley, everyone calls me Buck but—but Evan's good, too, I like the way you say it) press a leg between Tommy's and push closer to him. "Hold onto mine," Evan says, and he does, and he will.

[hystericalend]

this is extremely underdeveloped and just a random thought but imagine sieun was the one put in the coma by beomseok instead and suho is the one who has the ep8 crashout.. suho so at his limit-- BEYOND his limit, he forgets everything abt "not crossing the line" and actually fucking kills beomseok

by accident. i don't think i could see him genuinely murdering someone in cold blood but i do think suho is physically very capable of killing someone accidentally. that's what the line is for. that's what the mma training is for. it's surprisingly easy to kill someone, when you're blinded by grief. easy as beomseok's head hitting the corner of the desk and not getting up when he hits the floor.

accident or not, beomseok is dead and everything very quickly spirals out of control. maybe a beating could be covered up, but murder? murder has him put in juvenile prison.

and how fucking SAD would that be?? sieun's future on hold, suho's forever tainted by the blood on his hands. and there being this huge, gaping divide between them. suho rots in prison hating himself for not seeing the signs earlier, wondering if he could've changed things if he'd known, wishing he could've been there to protect sieun, fucking hating himself for crossing the line and killing the boy that he should've helped before it ever got to this point.

he asks his grandmother to visit sieun and keep him updated, desperate for any news about his condition. every week it's the same. still in the coma. no idea when he'll wake up.

and suho tries to be good. he needs to be on his best behaviour, show remorse, be compliant and respectful and show that he can be rehabilitated so that he can get out and be by sieun's side where he should've been before it ever got this far. but the longer he's in prison the harder it is. he gets beaten, spat on, shit-talked, abused by both the inmates and the prison guards who should be keeping order, not stoking violence for entertainment. but suho's killed someone. he deserves this company.

be good. get out. be with sieun.

"so i was talking with one of the guards," -- one of suho's cellmates. the broken ribs are from him. the bruise colouring suho's cheek is from his friend snickering at suho from across the room. "and they happened to let slip what you were in here for. murder. didn't think you had it in you!"

suho hadn't told anyone. no matter how much they beat him. the "showing remorse" part of his plan to get out as quickly as possible is easy. the guilt hurts more than anything anyone in here could do to him. he tries to keep a straight face. he can't let them get to him. not now.

"but they also told me something else," the guys laughs. "that before you killed that guy you put someone else into a coma. what was he? practice?"

be good. get out. be with sieun.

"you know i've only got a couple months left," he goes on. "you want me to give the vegetable a visit when i'm out?"

he leans in close and grips suho's jaw, forcing his eyes up to meet him.

"maybe i could finish him off for you."

suho tried so hard to be good. he really, really tried.

but people just keeping crossing the fucking line.

nobody messes with suho after he beats 2 of his cellmates so badly they're both hospitalised for several fractures and faces so fucked up they'll never look the same. it doesn't make things better. every week he gets the same news. sieun is still asleep and suho is still in prison.

alone.

[meeep-morp]

I like this theory.

I do think that the creepy walk is an act, probably just to spook us, and maybe scare us off from continuing the game (like c'mon-- there's gotta be at least one person who panic quit at the end of chapter 1 or 2). But I also like the idea that it's also meant to be a form of misdirection. Maybe it's both.

I'm actually very willing to accept the intentional act theory, because one of the big things that bothered me about the ending of chapter two, was that yes, it's implied that Kris slashed the tires of Toriel's car to prevent anyone from leaving. But I've been hesitant to believe that because how in the hell did that sliw, shambling lil shit make it all the way around the house, slash the tires, AND make it back inside before Toriel noticed? It seems like the answer is that they didn't, at least not while walking like that.

I can see them doing the creepy walk specifically to throw us off, like I was. "There's no fucking way they could've done that! Have you SEEN this fucker try to walk around without their soul? They can barely keep themself upright, let alone run!"

That being said, I don't think it's entirely an act. Rather, I feel like it might be more of an exaggeration of the pain and weakness they feel without the soul. I mean, yes, they're clearly still being performative in order to seem much more creepy and weak and zombie-like than they actually are, but I also think that this performance is heavily inspired by the truth.

I mean, op, you mention yourself that Noelle points out weaknesses and shakiness in Kris's voice, and if Kris had recently... expelled us, that'd make sense. If my memory's correct, then every time we've seen Kris remove their soul, we watched their whole body shake, and we specifically hear the sounds of damage being taken. Maybe the teeth gnashing in the chapter two bathroom scene was them being a bit extra, but I think it's still clear that the process of removing their soul places a lot of strain on their body. Maybe they're not exactly weak because they're soulless, but because they just removed it a few minutes ago.

Another thing I want to point out is that yes, I don't think we entirely get to figure out what happens when Kris is without us for too long, but I do know that if you wait around when you first spot them making chocolate milk, they'll slowly slump over and eventually seem to pass out after a few minutes. I didn't see anything beyond the "faint", because that was when I was like, "aight, that's enough, it's gone too far, let me back in," but I was straight up jumpscared by how suddenly they "woke up" and quickly leapt at the soul. I've been wondering for a while how the fuck they realized I was there, and I was writing it off as some sort of magic thing where they could simply just psychically sense it, but that still doesn't explain how sudden that switch was.

And so this theory makes me wonder... what if Kris was pretending to faint. What if that "Kris...... Your soul......." line from Mysterious Phone Voice wasn't concern over Kris's health, but rather them saying, "Head's up Kris, your soul's watching." I mean, it's pretty clear that Mysterious Phone Voice has some level of omniscient-type knowledge (probably through hidden cameras and tapped phones and shit), so it's not far fetched that they knew we escaped the closet and were spying in on Chocolate Milk Time (TM).

And if it's true that they warned Kris about us, and if Kris has been acting weaker in order to mislead us, then yeah, of course they would pretend like their body's failing them. Actually-- I'll go even further and say that it wasn't just to make us think they're weak when they're soulless, but rather that that specific moment was the Mysterious Phone Voice and Kris working together in order to draw us out into the open, just so Kris could catch us and put us back in time out. Because nimble as they are, they likely wouldn't be able to grab us from the vent; we'd get away too quick, and Kris simply just can't fit in there like we can. I think even Mysterious Phone Voice saying, "Kris... without soul.... you'd...." might've been a part of an act.

I also think the fainting thing was an act because at first they could barely say awake long enough to make and drink a glass of chocolate milk, but after we get put back in time out, not only are they perfectly able to make another glass, but they're also able to play the piano for eight minutes, and then, after waiting long enough to get all the secret dialogue for the basement power outage scene, they STILL have enough juice left to fucking snipe us with a puck, and beat the shit out of us with a hockey stick?! Yeah no something ain't adding up. Even if we take out the time it took for me to listen to the entirety of the piano playing, and me staying completely still in the basement for like-- 5-10 minutes, and me staying still for 10 minutes after the two left me alone upstairs (I was secret hunting, and I wasn't about to disobey Susie's orders), it still wouldn't make sense.

Final thing of note, when Kris finally got us back in, they kinda stay down for a few seconds, and they shake a couple times. When we're able to control them again, we can only get them a few steps before they collapse for a second. I don't think that was an act. I think they might've been in a weakened state the entire time they're soulless, and I wonder if the longer they spend one way, the more taxing it is to change it (so the longer they spend without us, the more strain their body goes through when putting us back in, and vice versa).

But yeah, those are my thoughts on this. I do think Kris is naturally in a weakened state without their soul, but less shambling zombie weak, and maybe more like pulling an all nighter without coffee, or 3 days into a fast (speaking of which, that's another explanation for Noelle's weak voice comment, and the momentary collapse after Kris gets us back in. We can't eat light world food for Kris, and tbh, I'd also eat an entire pie in one sitting if I hadn't eaten in a few days, and then an eldritch demon thing made me run around everywhere all day, making me even hungrier. Kid could simply just be malnourished with POTS, and they stood up too fast after getting us back in their body, causing them to actually almost pass out for realsies). Mostly functional, but suboptimal.

...I actually like the "Kris's soul is strong enough to sustain their body, but without it, the symptoms of malnutrition hit them hard and fast, and that's the real reason why they seem weaker when soulless" theory. I doubt that's actually cannon, but I might just headcannon it.

Anygay-- this got off track. Thanks for reading my ramblings. Farewell, until we meet again.

The interesting thing is…. from the glimpses of SOUL-less Kris we saw in Chapter 1 + 2, it was notable how…. strangely they seemed to move. We saw them walking with a sort of zombie-like gait that maybe implied they weren’t in full control of their body still, or maybe just that they were in immense pain.

It led to a lot of people speculating that Kris does need a SOUL to some level. Maybe the SOUL is Kris’ but we’re a foreign entity that has taken it over, or that Kris’ original actual SOUL has been removed and replaced with us. If Kris needed the SOUL to live, that would explain their slow, deliberate movements and also why they keep putting us back inside despite clearly hating being under our control.

So now, with Chapter 4 giving us a much better glimpse of SOUL-less Kris doing stuff… it’s notable that they seem… fully capable of moving ‘normally’. Angrily, but normally.

Even when they do the whole Creepy Zombie Walk thing they are notably faster than they seemed to be in Chapters 1 + 2

They can do things that require fine motor skills, focus and swiftness like playing the piano, handling glasses, and beating the shit out of us with a hockey stick and it's all animated as smoothly as most other Deltarune Animations. Not really implying effort or stiffness the way that original Creepy Zombie Walk animation did.

And while Susie only gets a brief moment to interact with SOUL-less Kris in the Normal Route

Noelle has prolonged interactions with them in the Weird Route (both on-screen in Chapter 4 and off-screen in-between Chapters 2 and 3) and... while she does note that they sounded 'weak and shaky' and obviously their behavior seems weird on account of the whole 'traumatized by the Unkillable Evil Time-Demon only they can see" thing

... There's nothing to really indicate that there's anything outright unnatural or 'zombie-like' about the way Kris moves and interacts with her while SOUL-less. Since this is the Weird Route, Noelle even note this is the most natural and Kris-like they've acted in the last few days.... until we take over again.

And now we know they can go without the SOUL for a fairly prolonged period of time. The Ominous Phone Voice of Probably Carol does tells them they need the SOUL, it seems unclear why.

So… what that means for SOUL-less Kris’ behavior before? It’s possible that even if Kris can operate without a SOUL, it still hurts like hell. So right after tearing out the SOUL they are in Maximum Pain and it's hard to ignore, causing them to move in a struggling and slow manner. But the more they go without it, they kinda get used to it and the pain fades into the background - allowing them to do stuff more-or-less normally.

(Basically Kris has Chronic Pain but the only Painkiller that works for them is Demonic Possession)

…Or, knowing Kris, maybe this… was all an act. They were only behaving like This because they knew we were watching. It is pretty notable that they walk around normally in the Holidays' Kitchen while we're eavesdropping on them and only swap to the Creepy Walk Animation once they notice us....

Maybe this is an act, either to make us underestimate the things Kris could do SOUL-less… or because they’re a little teen Edgelord so they just enjoy playing up the whole Soulless Zombie thing when they have a chance.

[unsolicited-opinions]

Hi ! I’m lurking through your blog and you seem very mature, like in a way that’s rare to find. I naively had similar beliefs as a teen but now feel like I’m never radical enough or useless, I felt like I lost myself and I wanted to ask how do you stay confident in your mindset.

Old, Anon.

The word you're looking for is old.

Aging is weird.

The truth is that I don't stay confident in my mindset.

I think that's mostly a good thing, because the reflex to defend a mindset can drive you to bypass genuine listening and reconsideration when presented with new information or new ideas.

Mindsets can get tangled up in feelings, fallacies, and cognitive biases.

I try instead to stay open and skeptical, especially of myself. That uncertainty keeps me checking in with my beliefs. It helps me pause before posting, read people I disagree with, and listen when people disagree in good faith.

Maybe you're really asking something deeper, Anon.

You mentioned feeling like you're never radical enough, or that maybe you've lost yourself.

That disorientation, that sense of being not enough for the tribe you're supposed to belong to is real.

It's especially brutal when you actually care about justice...but your community starts measuring morality by loyalty, shibboleths and performed tribal rituals instead of by integrity.

You're not alone in feeling this way.

____

I've been trying to understand what's happening when a wide variety of people get angry at me.

In the past week alone, no shit, I've had each of the following spit at me as contemptuous invective by someone on Tumblr in Replies, Asks, or Reblogs:

Communist!

Liberal!

Centrist!

Nazi!

Boot-licking Fascist!

I've been trying to figure out what it is I'm doing which is so upsetting to so many people across so many ideological camps.

My working hypothesis:

Consistency is a strangely radical trait to display publicly in a polarized society and it is deeply offensive to people on either end of the horseshoe.

Below are moral principles which I think always apply.

These aren't slogans or moral flexes.

I often want to check and re-calibrate my own internal tools for moral navigation, and that's what this sort of thing does for me.

They're guardrails which help me avoid going off the road of human decency or straying from my core moral beliefs. They're also not comprehensive or universal - they're just some examples which are useful and meaningful for me.

Every People Has a Right to Exist

All of them.

You don't have to love every culture. You don't have to endorse every political entity, but no group deserves to be erased.

If your activism involves erasing a people physically, culturally, or symbolically, you're not doing liberation work.

Oppression Doesn't Excuse Oppression

Being hurt doesn't give you a free pass to hurt others. Nothing justifies massacres. Bigotry and violence don't become righteous when they're flipped upside down.

If we cheer atrocities when "our side" commits them, we're not opposing violence, we're promoting it.

Human Rights Are Universal

Women's rights matter in Afghanistan and in the US.

LGBTQ+ rights matter in Iran and in Florida. The right to protest matters in Gaza, Georgia, and Tehran.

Free speech matters even when it protects people you disagree with.

If we bring up human rights to attack our enemies but excuse our allies when they do the same, we're making human rights which should be universal into something selective and tribal.

Targeting Civilians is Never Acceptable

Drone strikes. Suicide bombings. School shootings. Pogroms. Doesn't matter who's doing it or why. Targeting civilians is always wrong.

Moral Agency Applies to Everyone

People and movements must be judged by what they do, not by the story they tell about themselves.

This includes the US, Hamas, Russia, MAGA, antifa, the IDF, radical feminists, the Ayatollah, and your favorite TikToker.

If you treat any group as too victimized to be morally responsible, you're infantilzing and dehumanizing them. It's not compassion, it's condescension.

Oppressed ≠ pure.

Powerful ≠ evil.

The Ends Don't Justify Inhumane Means

If a "revolution" regularly promotes torture, genocide, authoritarianism, or child soldiers...it's not a liberation movement.

If a cause requires mass deception or mass suffering to work, the cause should be revised or abandoned.

"By any means necessary" can go very wrong very quickly and this phrase should not be used often, casually, or as an abdication of moral responsibility.

Peace and Justice Require Listening

You don't build a better future by eradicating your enemies. You build it by figuring out how to share space with people you may never fully agree with.

Justice requires truth and accountability...then forgiveness and coexistence.

When movements start purging dissent, silencing disagreement, and chasing utopias through destruction...that's when they start becoming the thing they claimed to fight.

Right now:

Identity is treated as morality, and power is treated as sin.

Being "on the right side" means never having to check yourself.

Rage/outrage is mistaken for moral clarity.

Empathy is weaponized against an enemy, not leveraged to relieve suffering.

The loudest performers are drowning out those who are working meaningfully and materially for peace.

A large number of us have abandoned consistent principles and ended up cheering for monsters...mostly because the monsters hate the same people we do.

So I try to hold onto moral principles that don't change based on who's in power, or who's claiming victimhood. Moral principles which focus on alleviation of suffering and promotion of justice, not on revenge or the balancing of scales. Principles which prioritize action over performance, and rational universalism over tribalism.

To be clear, I don't think doing this makes me neutral or right.

But I do hope it makes me trustworthy.

---

Anon, if you're feeling lost or like you're not "radical enough," maybe ask yourself:

Are you anxious about being faithful to your values...or just to your group?

Are you sacrificing thought for belonging? Are you sacrificing your own moral principles for social acceptance?

Where did you get the idea that there's some threshold of being "radical enough," and that other people can set that threshold without your consent?

Solidarity without principle isn't justice. It's just one's preferred (or socially acceptable) flavor and direction of selective injustice.

So...what beliefs/principles/values do you hold as sacred no matter what group they're applied to?

---

The quiet moments when you're alone with your conscience are the ones which will tell you who you are.

So don't worry about falling short of perfection, Anon- everyone falls short of that.

And maybe don't worry about falling short of other people's standards either - because it'll never be possible to satisfy them, and you don't owe them a performance or allegiance to their standards.

You owe yourself consistent commitment to your standards.

___

If you feel like you're "never radical enough" or that you've lost yourself somewhere along the way, consider the possibility that you're just experiencing the natural results of trying to be honest and true to yourself in a dishonest, inconsistent, polarized, tribal, performative, reactionary, dangerous time.

Managing that can be difficult and unpleasant, but even just making the attempt takes courage...and you're already working on it.

That's more than most people ever manage.

[germiyahu]

It's also a red flag that Zohran Mamdani said, on camera, that Palestine was a cornerstone of his political development, and it's a core part of his identity now. Because he of course sees it as emblematic of the ills of the world. This is left wing populism.

He has that one unattainable pet issue and everything else coalesces around it. The Rightists want the Ethnostate, most of the rest of their policy ideas are in service of that. Project 2025 is their Bible. The Leftists want the end of American hegemony, and they don't care about the consequences. They view Palestine as a microcosm of every group of people America has ever oppressed. And so it is that every other policy platform must bend the knee to Palestine.

I think they know that this "end the American Empire and destroy NATO and any other American ally" fantasy is completely incompatible with "end capitalism and transition to a socialist luxury abundance economy," or maybe they don't.

But to them, Israel is not just a state that has and is committing human rights abuses (like many other states but whatever). It's the apotheosis of American influence in the Middle East, possibly the whole world. Just like the Rightists think there's a cabal of Jews funneling money to Democrats, encouraging mass immigration, and forcing Woke Ideology down everyone's throats to weaken the White Race and desecrate America's status as a Christian Nation, Leftists think there's a cabal of Israelis who are the last hurtle to ridding the world of violence, war, segregation, colonialism, even capitalism.

In fact, a lot of Leftists think climate change is tied to Palestine's liberation at this point.

But that's the thing, that anyone with a brain could tell you. Freeing Palestine, and I mean from the river to the sea, purging "Zionists" everywhere... will do nothing to fix climate change (considering all the Israeli technology that would be lost in the chaos and the probable desertification of the land, it would be a detriment to climate action), will do nothing to stop global capitalism, will do nothing to quell the rising tide of fascism. Just like doing whatever the Rightists think should be down about George Soros won't fix any of their perceived problems.

So when a politician is very close to becoming the mayor of the largest city in America, and he thinks like this? No, it's not a cute look. Thankfully, he'll have to contend with the entire governmental apparatus of local and state politics. He'll have to compromise, he'll have to take his job seriously and not just wield power to pursue his ideological purity crusade. And the Leftists will turn on him just like they turn on every Leftist who acquires power and is then forced to use it responsibly to, you know... govern?

They don't want a competent mayor, even one with new ideas that probably wouldn't pass a vote. They want a revolution. They want the free stuff they were promised, including a Free Palestine. In actuality, those are all just words, and when it comes to Israel and Palestine, when they can't get what they wish for snapped into existence, one of two things happens:

The more normal supporters are content to just use this all as virtue signaling. They will "own" Israelis on Twitter, stick out their tongues and say "Hahaha New York City has a pro Palestinian mayor! You tried to silence us!" and they will turn a blind eye to antisemitism of course. They never cared. Their only interest is in being sore winners and "punishing" the Democratic Party.

The deranged supporters will go out and do antisemitism, because they're frustrated that politics are politics and Zohran Mamdani can't arrest Netanyahu through the ether, can't shoot his eye lasers at Israel and disintegrate the entire IDF at once. So they'll keep protesting, keep harassing Jews, keep threatening Jews, keep assaulting Jews, and keep killing Jews. Mamdani will give the most milquetoast condemnations and try to keep the focus on Palestinians, and in the process tacitly encourage the deranged supporters to keep up the good work.

The "normal" supporters will then demand that we all should focus on shielding Mamdani from Republican attacks and yellow journalism, all while they gaslight Jews. I mean, the Leftists are now saying that it's actually Israel holding the reins, and America is the puppet. So they don't even believe it's American hegemony anymore. They fully believe it's Zionist hegemony, and that's responsible for colonization, war, genocide, global economic systems that keep hundreds of millions of people poor and hungry... they're antisemites!

They think Jews control the world. I don't know Zohran Mamdani and I never will, but how could I not narrow my eyes in suspicion if he openly talks about having the same thought patterns? I would not be shocked if he also thinks Jews control the world.

[vruiponce]

Did you people know about wtf is going on in the world? Maybe you don't care? Like... come on, is not pessimistic, it is that everyone is trying to destroy us by any means necessary. Like maybe you have so much privilege you don't even have to think about politics or what? You don't know about the fascism growing, the genocides, the blatant colonialism... come on, open your eyes. If you think you can love EVERYTHING in this world, you may want to actually look what is happening, realize what is happening, learn about it, join the comunity and take action on it. It is not going to make it by itself.

you may notice i use the phrase "my beloved" frequently. this is because i am in love with the world and everything in it. hope this clears things up <3

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This week I came across 12 of my posts that are back on the market, having not sold. I can't believe that this sweet little 1910 cottage in Spokane, WA is one of them. It has 2bds, 1ba, 1,000sqft, and they even reduced the price $10k to $330k.

Even if they don't like her decor, they can look past it. I love the blue stone fireplace. I wouldn't mind that.

There's nothing wrong w/this cute little house. It has a cozy living room and even a dining room.

They put in a new sliding barn door. If you don't like the barn look, you can make it look it more industrial. Remove the "Z" molding and paint it black.

Purple kitchen cabinets. I happen to like them, but a little Zip Strip will reveal the original oak underneath, or repaint them, right?

It's maximalist, a bit cluttered, but buyers need to look past that. This is one of the bedrooms. Actually, the bedroom I grew up in was no bigger than this.

I will admit that the primary bedroom is tight. There's barely space on the sides of the bed to get in. That may be the deal breaker.

I can't tell what size that bed is, but maybe, if it's a queen size, you can go w/a full, instead.

The standard 3pc. bath is lively. I think it's cute.

The "game room" currently features a pinball machine wearing a ruffled skirt. That's something I've never seen.

Looks like there's some potential in the basement.

Lots of potential in the yard. There's a nice big shade tree.

The single car garage seems to need a floor.

Hmmm...the 6,969.6sqft lot is boxed in, there's no access to the garage from a street.

[sharpestshotinthewholeworld]

Does anyone see me? Like, Me. See me for me. My family sees Oswald, but I don't think they see Ozzie and I don't know how to fix that. It feels like no matter how much I put myself out there or put on dramatics, they still just look through me. I'm Ozzie! I like hunting and fishing and I'm really good a climbing trees! The best, if I had anything to say about it.

Mother asks me to hunt and dad expects me to hunt for money and food, and I do hunt for those reasons! But they treat me more like a money machine than a boy who enjoys the sport and genuinely wants to support his family. It makes me feel sad and ignored.

Not Dick though! He saw me as Ozzie right off the bat! He's actually impressed my my skills, and he even says good night to me before I go to bed every night! Isn't that cool!!! He looks me in the eye instead of the bridge of my nose. I like it, I think. Attention is nice.

But that doesn't fix my blood family. I go through so much effort for them, day and night, hour by hour, minute to minute, maybe even second to second if I'm daring enough to say it, slaving over hunting and selling, and sleeping on the floor so my sisters can have the bed, and being extra careful with the clothes I get so they don't have to stress over buying more. I hunt 60% of the venison they sell, I clean all the guns, I eat less so we can make more money, I do what they say when they say it, I make stupid jokes so they won't be upset that we didn't get to eat that day, I give my candles to my brothers so they can study at night and maybe get a more substantial job one day. What do I get from it?

A pat on the shoulder and half a second of a glace.

Is that really what I deserve?

After all this?

Everything?

No! I don't think so! I deserve more than a shrug or a dismissal. Dick taught me that.

...

But how do I get more if they ignore me so much all the time?

...

Wow. This... Sorry people of "tumblr"! I got a little carried away there for a second! Won't happen again! I need to go do something immature, I think Archie's adultness is getting to my head. Not that I'm not grown up! I'm very grown up! I just... I'm Ozzie.

Sorry. Bye.

[liedownquisition]

Just to be clear let's make a little reminder:

Jason Todd had never claimed that he was Pit Mad, nor attempted to explain, excuse, or blame any of his actions in it. He would, in fact, be rather offended by the notion that he wasn't fully in control and making his own decisions* *If you choose to do fanon pit madness in your own fics/ect, this post isn't about you. This is about the prospect of him lying and claiming it's an excuse when "other people didn't have that issue".

Batman Annual #25

This is Jason, not displaying any signs of the typical direct-from-emerging Pit Madness symptoms.

Lost Days #3 - Jason openly admitting to killing a guy, and general thoughts therein. A lot more nuanced than Pit Madness would generally leave you the facilities to think about.

Batman (1940) #641 - I wasn't 100% on if this actually fits the vibe but idk. Him forcing Bruce to say it feels like he's making a strong claim.

Batman (1940) #650 - Also may not fully fit the vibe but I promise you it makes sense if you were in my head. it's about taking ownership for your actions but not letting them consume you.

Even in runs like RHATO when he repeatedly says things like "I never said I was proud of it" and looking back on his past actions with disgust and remorse while... continuing to kill people sometimes, he still never acted nor spoke as though the Pit affected him enough to influence his actions. And, at the very least, he never said it to anyone else.

And if he did, those panels would be everywhere, especially given how popular the concept is! The fans of it would have proof!

I also don't think Pit Madness is a thing in n52??? It MIGHT not be a thing in Prime earth at all? (<- unsure, there are arcs I haven't read that I need to confirm this with. It is difficult to prove a lack.)

People who have speculated Jason was Pit Mad:

Ra's al Ghul

Talia

Maybe that guy she was sleeping with in Lost Days?

Lost Days #2

People who I would not be surprised if they tried to claim Jason was driven insane by the Pit given some comments I've found in other comics (not directed at Jason specifically):

Bruce

Potentially Barbara

Batman #619 - I am not digging up/posting the speculation about Joker before they put him in the Pit in Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #144. I'm not reading nor looking at that comic again any time soon if I don't have to.

Birds of Prey (1999) #34 - Barbara was there when Dinah was submerged, and all info wrt Pit Madness is from what SHE has already, but she admits to not being sure because Ra's guards the info about the Pits as jealously as he is able to. Which leads to...

Birds of Prey (1999) #35 - ...her suspecting it could have extended effects. Arguably Dinah is able to disprove this, however the phrase "depends on the person" is a pretty operable notion here.

Fans ascribing Pit Madness to Jason's actions are not Jason, the character, using Pit Madness as an excuse.

Barbara was there for Dinah's submerging, but her info on the Pits is wishy-washy. Dinah's info about the Pits is mostly whatever info Barbara has and the lived experience of it happening Once (also she's a meta and it noticeably is a different kind of madness for her compared to other instances that I have documented before, which may be theorized to be influenced by the fact that she IS one, & Jason is not). It is likely the same info that Bruce has about them, though he'd have more first-hand experience and that could shape his opinions thusly.

Anyways, if fanon Pit Madness was a thing, fun time reminder that per canon, it is apparently treatable via anti-psychotics! And the Bats are, uh, Aware of this lol.

Robin (1993) #91 - Listen I just think this is really funny.

[arminthada]

[HIGHLIGHT] 8 minutes of Pond Ponlawit defending Armin's reaction in EP 5

Notable points/quotes from this live

How do I feel about Armin? He's like a roller coaster and maybe you can add a little haunted house to him because he's so unpredictable. Like you've seen in episode 5. So it was all going good. Great, great, great, great. And then boom, he just exploded. But it doesn't mean that he- It's not unreasonable like reaction from him. It is reasonable. I'm protecting him. So, yeah. I got to stand up for my man.

What did you learn from your character? I think like what I understand more is to be loved. Armin is so loved by Thada. Yeah, I think the feeling of being loved is amazing and I kind of understand how you guys feel and how I don't know to say this but it's just kind of like this emotional roller coaster that kind of make me so emotional, every time being loved.

Is it hard doing the emotional scenes? I think once I'm in it, I wouldn't say it's difficult. Well, let me rephrase that. It isn't hard for me to get emotional as myself, but it is a challenge to to be inside Armin's shoe and be emotional from his personal story because Armin is like this artistic 40+ years old who's back in his 20+ body with those hormones and those like instinctive feelings, emotions. So that's one of the reasons why he kind of burst out at Thada in episode 5. But it is his thinking, his thoughts as this mature- Is he mature? I'm not even sure. I think like he's been through a lot of relationships. He's been through a lot of failures, a lot of fightings. And it kind of shaped him to be this protective self because he's done everything on his own. That's what he thought. Well, Thada has always been helping. But yeah. So, back to the question. I think it is difficult.

I think he has his reasons to be like this. Right! I think so. I'm trying to justify him. Well, he's not this vulgar, this 'couldn't control himself' kind of guy. I mean, sometime he is. And well, he definitely is. But no. Well, I mean when when I played him like for this especially in this scene because a lot of people talked about it like why did Armin do that? Like when I played him in this scene, Armin actually feels bad for bursting out at him like that. Even when Thada was walking away from Armin. I feel so wrong. This kind of grief inside of Armin because what he said wasn't what he really wanted. It's just this instantaneous reaction from him [which is] this protective barrier, this wall that he built up for himself to protect himself from other people who can hurt him. But like after that outburst you've seen in episode 5, he realized that Thada is this long companion on his journey in his previous life and it all makes sense to him so there's this passion inside of him. So sometimes his reason has to catch up with his passion because his passion is so intense, so strong. I don't know how to describe his passion but sometimes his reason has to catch up with his passion. So that's what happened.

Do we go off script most of the time? I think the original script is just the a very broad um structure to the series because the director and us the actors we kind of improvised as as the series goes on. Yeah, we didn't we didn't actually change it beforehand but we acted it. We think there is some improvement to be made, some adjustment and the next take we just adjust it accordingly. So yeah. So mostly it's all I would say improvise but it was but we didn't do it in one take.

What do I think about episode 6? I think it's going to be the most- I shouldn't say much. I'm going to spoil for you guys. I don't think I should. So yeah, I think you guys should wait for it. It's better. I think the scenes in episode 6 is, well for me personally when we shoot it, I think it's our best- I wanna say best scene but- the most romantic episode ever. I hope so. I hope so. I'm not sure. I don't even know because I haven't watched 7, 8, 9, 10.

Reset is a masterpiece. Thank you. I'm so delighted and honored. Wait until you see episode 6 because I think it's like- I think it's the best- No, I'm not going to say it. I promise myself to not say but I kind of liked it the most of all the episodes.

Pond also answered a bunch of questions about 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us which I also compiled here. Out of all the characters he's played, Wang is the character that impacted his life spiritually and taught him a lot about the world and relationships in general.

I hope you don't get too stressed. Noooooo. I'm stressful because I love doing what I do right? Isn't that right? If I don't love what I do, if I don't pay attention to it, if I don't give it time and love, why would I be stressful? It's because we have to care about our work. That's why it's stressful. But it's fun because we love it. <- (peak nadao-ism right there y'all ಥ_ಥ)

[Full 250702 Pond Ponlawit from Reset The Series TikTok Live]