#when its actually a completely different thing that is frustrating them

[bitter-hibiscus]

To be honest I think that a lot of people who share the anti Jason Todd sentiment don't even actually hate Jason. I think a lot of them hate what he forces the narrative to do.

Jason forces the subversion of the hero genre -- he's the single, most extreme proof that Batman's hero fantasy wouldn't be effective in real life, and therefore Jason showing up can take you out of the universe really fast really hard. A lot of people are here for what comics are meant to offer, the one man hero fantasy that makes you Feel Good, and Jason showing up doesn't Allow you to enjoy it! And if that's the case, you're completely justified in not liking Jason, he takes you out of the thing you enjoy.

I think a lot of you don't actually find his personality or acts annoying in of themselves, you just hate what those actions do to the genre itself. And I think once you realize that and start looking at comics like actual pieces of literature, Jason and shitty comics both will become a lot less rage inducing to you.

[arolesbianism]

I love drawing Aris as sif so much she's so cutsies. It almost makes up for the horrors of having to draw her as sif. Almost.

[wuntrum]

can you speak on your severance s2 opinions? i promise this isnt in bad faith or anything, im just anon bc im shy lol, im genuinely curious

i'm gonna put this under a read more because it's gonna be long but...yeah [scratches head] if YOU the person reading this looooved this season and see nothing you didn't like about it, thats awesome and i'm happy for you. i also liked things in this season, and also its normal to be able to critique things you like, love and light <3 its literally just television

generally, yeah, i found myself disappointed with it. i think the writing this season, both the dialogue and then the actual character/world writing, fell flat and/or seemed like it was completely incongruous with the characters and world that we had seen in season 1. i think something i really appreciated about season 1 is that yes, mark was our main character and the lens we got introduced to both the inside and outside world, but both felt so much BIGGER than just him.

season 2, the entire plot and world and characters bend and contort to make mark like, the center of the universe lol. it's kind of ridiculous, the extent to which the world revolves around him now. it makes the world feel SOOO small. parts of my favorite worldbuilding aspects are seeing how the outside world feels about severance--i think the part where we see how working as a severed employee makes it almost impossible to work anywhere else is great! and in concept i like seeing other towns that have been devastated by lumon's industrialization, though i don't love the execution that we got. so like...everything lumon does is about mark? ALL of it? i know we don't know exactly how long lumon has been operating but like...they've been working on this stuff for longer than two years, lol. like, how many files have dylan completed? irving? petey? that girlie who wrote the lexington letter? is all of their work literally meaningless? like i get that there were people before gemma who failed the tests and they died, sure, but what about when mark started working there? what about the files that irving started and didn't finish, why don't they care about those? ohhhh right, because that's not the one that mark's working on. i get that it'd be a big deal if they got it to work fully once, but surely they'd want to make it work AGAIN, right??? like a science experiment?? i just wish we got like, A nod to other people on the testing floor, because i think the implication is that all of them are working on files connected to…different people, but maybe they're all just different versions of gemma?

honestly all of the innie stuff this season just felt so…idk, aimless? it feels like parts of the building only exist when the writers want them to, and just generally are not interested in exploring anything outside of the romantic aspects for all of these characters. like sure, after the season 1 finale, their asses are not gonna wanna work (EXCEPT FOR WHEN THEY DO? TO MOVE THE PLOT ALONG?), but where's the camaraderie? what about all those other people in O&D, they literally export things to the testing floor, maybe they know about gemma? fundamentally i think the thing that's the most frustrating about innie mark is that they keep telling us that he doesn't care about gemma. which, sure, outie gemma, he doesn't have that same connection with as helly, whatever. but also, he DOES care about her, he literally knows that that's ms casey and that lumon was just going to do what they always do when they fire people????? like s1 mark cared soooo much about his coworkers, ALL OF THEM, even the ones that weren't there anymore—seeing petey and then ms casey get removed was like, a HUGE deal and vital to his growth as a character!!!! and the way that they constructed this whole season basically to remove everyone that isn't mark and helly by the end. lol. i'm honestly shocked that they didn't make a new version of the desk that was just two chairs, like dylan was just excluded from the finale except for when they needed him to come in and hold the door against mr. milchick. again. lol

i don't inherently have a problem with exploring the romantic stuff, i think that could have been done well, but i just don't think it was. and that's primarily because, i think the writing this season for helly was ass! they took away her agency and subjugated her to be just the love interest for mark! especially with the finale, i just feel like the helly i know would've been like mark, what are you doing??? go?!? like she wants to take down lumon, THAT's what will take down lumon! like whatever, mark made the choice that he did, but helly playing along with it makes no fucking senseee. like they want us to think that it's the same ol helly we know and love, they give us crumbs of her anger, like when she's rallying the marching band people or whatever, but again, only when it's plot convenient. WHY WOULD SHE NOT ATTACK JAME? he's like 90???? and helly doesn't like this man???? she has nothing to lose???? fucking THROW something at him helly!!!! the helly that tried to chop her fingers off and hang herself and gave that speech in the s1 finale is not in the room with us. and i don't mean this in a way where i think it's helena again, it's not. they've just completely fumbled her character because they want mark and helly to be together at all costs. and honestly, i think it's so reductive to make this show just about ships, but textually it feels like that's what they want us to do, and i think that's sad. again, it makes the show feel so SMALL, when the world within it used to feel so BIG and like we would want to learn more about it. i care about mark and helly--before they kissed!! i think it was rewarding to see the ways they challenged each other and grew as people!! them as a romantic thing could work but they haven't put in the work to MAKE it work. and, it feels like of redundant even to say, but i do think it's fucking ridiculous to write a story where we get kissing and fucking for allllll the straight characters and then the one gay couple doesn't even get a kiss before separating them completely and writing irving out of the show, basically. like what are we in, hayes code era television?

but yeah, the information they chose to reveal vs what they didn't was also frustrating. i honestly wish they revealed less! there's so much TELLING this season. it feels like they think we're stupid (which, i can't speak for the entire population watching the show, maybe some people literally do need mark to look at the camera and explain everything, idk). like there's sooo much clever storytelling in the first season that just, completely gets snuffed out from overexplaining. i understand in the finale that oMark needs to tell iMark about why he did all of this but like, WE as the audience already know??? we don't need to see this?? and cobel confirming stuff i feel like we already knew about how the numbers work and like, i just don't knowwww. like you can just show me it, i was picking up on it. like we know about the four tempers, you show it to us all the time, cobel having to look dead in the camera and explain it just made me feel like there was a better way we could've done this. i do think some stuff benefits from a "hard" confirmation. like i'm glad they confirmed the helena thing, BECAUSE it backs up and supports all of the lovely and subtle things they had already shown to prove that it WAS helena! like i've known since the first episode LOL, so they do KNOW how to do subtle storytelling. and i think the gemma episode was great, i loved seeing her as a character and thought it gave her so much depth. but again, i think allll of the explaining they do this season not only snuffs out the fun of speculating on the viewing end, but from a writing perspective it just kind of writes them into a corner. i think they're focused too much on making these elaborate set pieces and events take place without thinking of how they fit together, not only on like a writing/episodic level but just the world of lumon at large.

i think a great way they showed story in the first season is through the paintings, and through irving and burt bonding over the paintings! like it not only establishes the lore of kier and then we get to learn more about them as characters through their reactions to the paintings. the paintings this season, honestly, were weak, they were so heavy handed. love and light to whoever painted them, but they were nottt doing the job for me.

(this is a small thing, but like…the intake questionnaire asks them to "name a US state or territory," so they KNOW that delaware is a state. so why would they think the equator is a building? again its just like. a cutesy moment for mark and helly to banter but they could've done it in a way that isn't contradictory to like, our understanding of what information crosses over the sever and what does not).

i keep thinking about the ORTBO, and it just seems fucking CRAZY to me that they aren't freaking out about SEEING THE SKY? BREATHING FRESH AIR? FEELING FIRE? SLEEPING?? WASN'T THE WHOLE THING THAT THEY COULDN'T FALL ASLEEP???? i guess my impression of how the chip works is that the technology doesn't know how to handle when they enter a subconscious/asleeep state, so the innie and outie memories begin to bleed together, hence why dozing would be a bad thing on the job. but again, they clearly had this idea of how they wanted irving to reveal that it's helena in the waterfall, and yes, i did enjoy the spectacle of the episode, but its another example of how they'll build these moments and only focus on what they want to see. like there's so much interesting stuff that they could explore and just choose not to, because (usually) it doesn't involve mark, or mark and helly.

also, i'm just gonna say it, i feel like the writing for the women this season all was kinda bad! it's, again, a byproduct of the world revolving around mark now. reghabi is brought into the story when mark needs her, and cast aside when he doesn't want her anymore. devon has been completely reduced to mark's lackey, like i guess ricken and the baby are fucking fine or whatever??? because she only exists when mark is around, and her only job is caring about mark (which obviously yes, they're siblings, of course they care—but s1 devon had a life outside of mark as well). cobel is only brought back into the story to explain to mark how cold harbor works. i said this before but honestly i like the concept of her little solo episode, though the execution wasn't great, because at least she was doing something on her own (except for when she needs that guy to help her. heaven forbid a woman does something of her own accord without a man to help). and again, helly is completely flanderized to be mark's love interest. i think there's a way to have mark and helly be together and them be their own people, but for the length of the season they did not have the proper time to unpack all the shit from the ORTBO episode so everyone just…conveniently gets over it very quickly, like in the span of a day. like i do think it's a jump to go from "i don't trust you, are you even you?" to missionary under plastic tarps that quickly, i'm sorry. and i think even gemma suffers from this fate as well. i think with hers it makes more sense, like she fucking loves her husband, but i wish she was given opportunities to like…want things for herself, too. like she hasn't been outside in two years! i bet she misses her job, her students, her family, devon, ricken, like anyone outside of mark? but she has to be the tragic love interest that can't be with mark but can't run away from mark, either. she's reduced to set dressing for mark and helly by the end.

they constructed this season i think, with the hopes and knowledge that they'll likely get a season 3. which yes, we know now that it's been confirmed and approved or whatever, but they didn't know that when making season 2, and it feels like no one got a full character arc. it's all start and no follow through. we've had the same "mr. milchick experiences racism in the workplace" moment like what, five, six times, and yet we haven't even started to see him DO something about it yet? like sure he told mr. drummond to eat shit, but then to play along with the minstrel show cold harbor shit, they just didn't care about giving that plot line any action so it'll just get brushed along to season 3. (and while there's intentional commentary about race in the show, it also feels like there's unintentional consequences to their writing choices that upholds the whiteness. like, natalie is just forgotten about, reghabi is dropped as soon as mark doesn't want to play with her anymore, ms. huang barely gets to do anything before being written off and sent away, and yes, i do think having gemma suffer as mark and helly skip away is part of it. it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, sorry!). i think dylan is maybe the closest we get to an interesting arc, and i enjoy the inclusion of his wife, but even he's reduced to JUST this story, only getting to talk to mark or helly when the writers need him to, i guess. and the stuff with burt and fields is so nothing, like it feels like it should be going somewhere but they're just leaving it open for season 3 (i guess??? even though it seems like irving isn't going to be in it at all, so why would we be following burt and fields??? and also don't even get me started on how the outie irving stuff is just NOT EXPLORED AT ALL. like whatever sure who the hell cares, sorry for wanting to see that go somewhere or whatever).

it's too early for full reintegration to happen so, we'll just finish that in season 3. (then why introduce it so early in season 2? ohhh right, we need cliffhangers to end every episode on). it almost feels like they don't have faith that people will keep watching without introducing these dramatic moments, but it's all just gasps of breath, there's no actual momentum. like, i've already watched the first season, you don't need to bait me with the prospect of seeing meaningful progression and then take it away from me when the next episode starts. the structure of how episodes speak to each other is that they…don't? like obviously i don't need every episode to pick up on the exact moment the last left off, but the timeline of this season is just soooo strange. the first two episodes are in the same span of time, and then there's gemma and cobel's episodes back to back…it genuinely just feels like they didn't consider the season as a whole which, considering how much money and time it took to make it happen, makes no sense.

and to continue on the timeline aspect, it feels so confusing as to how much time has really passed. it feels like the wanted the structure of the first season, but the pacing mechanic of the first season (working up to the end of the quarter to get to the waffle party) makes the pacing of the second feel even worse. like a.) mark's completed like 3 files a quarter (if we assume he's worked there for 8 quarters, i.e. two years), so making THIS file the super special final one truncates the possible time by at least a third.but then also, b.) he's been at like 95% complete since like, episode 5..? again, i just think it should've been considered more during the planning stages. and it kind of boggles my mind that the creative team views the marching band in this finale to be analogous to the waffle party in s1 when, it's way closer to the music dance experience? (they said this in the like behind the scenes for the finale ep). and in that regard, it really does kind of feel like a retread that doesn't work as well because, again, it's all about mark! especially after the shit with the kier statue, why would mr. milchick play along with the song and dance, like it just feels like they wanted to use tramell tillman's dance experience again, and they wanted to use the colored lights again. he could've just stood by the door to make sure mark and helly stayed there, which was obviously the goal of having all those people there. and yeah, i get the work is mysterious and important or whatever, but the implication that they have ALL OF THESE PEOPLE whos sole job is to be a marching band makes no fucking sense, i'm sorry. i find it hard to play along with the worldbuilding, again it makes lumon seem like its run by like dr. doofenshmirtz or something, it's so cartoony. like are they a global and successful company, or are they incompetent and leave gaping holes for their employees to undo everything? this is THE MOST IMPORTANT DAY IN LUMON HISTORY and they couldn't…shut the door to MDR like they had before? the goat sacrifice room is directly outside the exports hall door? the music dance experience works so well as a catharsis moment because everyone has their own shit going on, and we get to see the guy who hasn't really disobeyed yet (dylan) finally snap, and we see the others come and support him as a TEAM. it's just spectacle for us, the viewer. and especially the thing where they make the panels with mark's face on it—HE CAN'T SEE IT???? i don't need fan service winking moments like that, i dunno, that just annoyed me lol.

anyway, i feel like i have more to say probably but i gotta go do things so, i'm gonna leave it here. in conclusion, i'm missing my friends from s1 MDR sooo so bad, i feel like i haven't seen them this season at all. i did like parts of this season, but overall it was not what i was hoping it would be. (i don't even really KNOW what i wanted it to be, and of course it doesn't matter what i "want," but i feel like what i "want" lined up with what they wanted to do explore with season 1 so…maybe that's where the dissonance is coming from). and whereas at the end of s1, where i left it being like "where are they going to go from here?? (as in, theres so many possibilities", this season finale has left me asking "…where are we gonna go from here?" because i'm left like, inherently incurious about the people we have left and the choices they've made. and, i feel like THEY (as in the executive team making it) must feel this way too, because apparently they've completely scrapped the writers room from this season and added on two new showrunners. good luck to whoever that executive story editor is LOL

[telafel]

Forever thinking about Spite trying and wanting to help Lucanis (even if its with selfish intentions), but Spite being a spirit/demon wanting things to just change on command. Spite gets the up front view of Lucanis' pain and trauma, exists in that same headapace where Lucanis is still in the Ossuary, burdened by what the people close to him think, projecting his own insecurities onto them.

Any attempt from Spite to help is stamped down by Lucanis immediately. I interpret those sleepwalking moments as Spite trying to get help in his own way. He never threw Lucanis off the edge of the Lighthouse. I think the eluvian scene, Spite might have been trying to go to Treviso since besides Rook those are the ones closest to Lucanis.

But Lucanis resents Spite, fears Spite and everything he embodies. The symbol of his trauma, a part of him forever changed. Of course Lucanis will do anything to avoid Spite and not entertain him. Which in turn frustrates Spite making their situation worse and worse.

But Spite knows that Lucanis, no matter what Rook does, opens up to them and listens. Something that Lucanis does for precious few because his trust is hard-earned. Of course Spite always wants to talk to Rook, catch their attention to help. Inside, Lucanis is pleading for help and answers but he feels he has no one to turn to.

I like to think that in Inner Demons when Spite takes control of Lucanis, that Lucanis is full on spiraling in anxiety. He's facing the reality that essentially his brother sold him out and the person who raised him is actually alive but he is *different* and *wrong* and anything he does could ruin everything. So he completely shuts down and closes off and Spite has free reign to do as he wishes... but Spite helps instead and pulls Rook in. Because Lucanis listens to Rook.

What i love about Spite is that even with the totally selfish read of his actions he still cares and realizes his host is important. He doesn't ever seem to genuinely want full control over Lucanis, he just wants more involvement and to not be shut out.

[thetrasha]

Ok but can i get some fluff on shanks, Beckman, Marco and Ace? Maybe how they try to cool you down after suffering a heat stroke? Where i live we are getting a severe heat wave and its causing me to lose salts from sweats making me suffer a bit

I hope it's gotten a bit better for you, but I'm getting cooked in my own room, too, so... yeah 😭🤝And this is just a PSA: I didn't include actual heatstroke in the request because... the only one on that list who'd be able to help at all is Marco LOL Heatstroke is incredibly dangerous, so if you suspect you're suffering from it, call the emergency services immediately.

This is just a heatwave extravaganza edition because we're all suffering through summer (not including you Southern Hemisphere guys grr)

Cooler Than Me

feat. SHANKS, BENN BECKMAN, MARCO, ACE

SHANKS

Shanks is the type to approach things in a fun way.

As the Captain, Shanks is certainly used to making rational decisions that can be explained with logical reasoning… as a person, however, he isn’t quite as likely to keep his cool. He’d be miserable once the heat gets to him and lose it on a pretty tight schedule. Frustrated groans and curses just follow him around once he realised that his own sweat seeped through today’s linen shirt once more – after he’d let his cape be, too. It’s a tragedy! With you as his beloved, he tries to prevent himself from turning into a complete grump, but every sweet moment at night is cut off after he realises, after barely a minute, that he cannot cuddle you to sleep today without dying.

Shanks is still very much smitten with you and cannot bear to watch you suffer just as much as he does. Most of his crew can handle the heat, some even prefer the intense climate of summer islands, but you two stick out like a sore thumb. Shanks, as fun-loving as ever, would try to cheer you up by eating popsicles with you. It’s a sweet treat that cools you from the inside out – and he can share flavours with you. Watching how giggly you get when you saw just how deeply red the ice cold popsicle dyed his tongue made it worth all the hassle. He excitedly looks at your own tongue, now dyed as blue as the sea.

And he cannot help but kiss you right then and there.

BENN BECKMAN

Benn notices just how much you struggle, feeling sympathetic towards the person he secretly fell in love with… He doesn’t want to treat you any different from the rest, you should be able to fit in without any complications, but the Vice Captain himself just cannot ignore his affections for you, no matter how much he tries to bury them. He follows you around like a ghost and wordlessly hands you glasses of water. Somehow, he picked up on your bad habits and takes care of you in his own way. The water’s always cool, fresh and he always appears when you need him the most.

Benn is the type to approach things in a methodical way.

Benn is a force to be reckoned with. You may not hear him, but you can feel his presence; that’s how imposing he is. Despite not hailing from more exotic lands, he can handle the heat quite well. If the temperatures rise too much, he cools himself down by keeping his hair wet. Still, he’s willing to move crates around, do ship maintenance and do other forms of physical labour. It honestly makes you jealous. He is so unbothered that he doesn’t even look like he’s sweating all that much. Meanwhile, you can barely move around without breaking a sweat. Moisture gathers at the nape of your neck as the sun beats down on you, which has you taking a shower almost twice a day. It is ridiculous!

It’s bizarre, but you might just pick up on the fact that acts of service are his love language and he’s desperately trying to be serious and respectful about this…

MARCO

Marco is a doctor, which means that he’s definitely best equipped to help you. Plus, his eyes just dart towards you fanning hot air towards yourself after Whitebeard asked you to mop the deck… and you just chose to do it in the dry heat. Congratulations, now you’ve got Marco monitoring you. He watches you carefully, analysing every sway with a judgmental gaze – he’s always ready to step in and excuse you for the day, but he also doesn’t want to take your autonomy away. You’re independent and he honours your own decisions, no matter how irrational they may seem. If you want to work in the sun, fine, but he’s not letting up until he can make sure you’re safe.

Marco is the type to approach things in an analytical way.

He loves you so dearly, that’s why he doesn’t even mind sneaking around your peripheral vision to make it seem like he’s nonchalant about his pining… he’s really not. He’s just waiting to pin your hair up and apply wet towels to your pulse points, slowly cooling your blood down. That refreshing feeling will distribute itself evenly throughout your body and he can just watch with a soft smile as relief makes you go lax instantly. And he’s just there, touching your neck and wrists like it doesn’t make him nervous, like there’s no fire in his eyes at the sight of you feeling so safe in his presence… You’d rest your pretty head on his shoulder and let him check your vitals… just to be close to you without seeming like a total try-hard!

Marco’s also most likely to keep you in the med bay and secretly fan air towards you with his fiery wings. It’ll be your little secret!

ACE

Ace is the type to approach things in a silly way.

So… being around Ace when you’re suffering from the extreme weather is actually pretty hard. His body temperature is just naturally a lot higher, which means the match-up is just overall bad. He trails after you like a lost puppy as he ignores all those stares that follow the two of you around. Ace doesn’t feel the heat at all – the fact that fire is hot doesn’t even register to him; he’s made of it. Of course he notices that you’re not exactly in top shape… you sweat a lot, started carrying around a massive jug of water – oh, and you avoid touching him. He’s yearning so bad, flashing you the sad kicked animal eyes every five minutes because he cannot stand not being close to you…

Ace does, however, have a genius idea that he remembers from his childhood.

You aren’t as impressed as he is when he presents a tiny kiddie pool to you… right on the main deck. Anyone could watch you lounge here, but your dear boyfriend even propped up a deckchair right next to this abomination… and the thought alone is what counts. It’s kind of sweet, to be honest, to watch him go bright red as soon as you sit down in a tiny puddle of water, looking up at him with a deadpan expression, legs hanging off one side of the meagre ‘pool’, but he still listens with rapt attention once you tell him what you’ve been up to on this hot day. He even clenches his fist in victory for this million Beri idea.

And… it’s ridiculous, but it did cool you down!

[zarnzarn]

i see all these comments talking about this after the new episode, but. i would like to state for the record that stolitz isn't. toxic.

first off, the concept of a toxic and a healthy relationship are such... vague terms. when you're online, drenched in language and tight moral boundaries, trying to put a nuanced story like helluva boss's into boxes is easy to attempt and impossible to do.

a toxic relationship is one where one or both parties is maliciously affecting the other. I'm talking fetid, nasty, rude interactions where there is more hurt than love. they're unhappy more often than not when they're with their partner, there's no respect or give from the other side.

stolitz is nothing like that.

Stolas actively cares about Blitz and actually has no fear or hesitation in ADMITTING IT OUT LOUD TO OZZIE. he has been calling, texting, commenting, laughing and finding ways to spend time with Blitz. he's throwing everything he has to the wind, finding the courage to move forward with the divorce, putting everything he has into trying to keep him. he's been alone in a palace since he was born, on medication, with such less people dear to him that he remembered the circus boy who spent a day with him DECADES ago- so when blitz comes into his life and brings back in laughter and color and sex, he's holding on with everything he's got.

and blitz does care!!! he cares a LOT, the whole series we see him falling in love with stolas through SHOW NOT TELL (his expressions, his choices, his fear, his lashing out) and utterly unable to process that stolas cares about him too when talking to fizz; almost a desperate kind of denial-

cause yknow. the first time he tried to confess something to someone he really liked, he accidentally killed half the people he knew and ruined the lives of the rest?

thats gonna leave just a teensy impact on the will to express your emotions in the future, methinks.

even before that, he clearly felt like on some level that he was unworthy and he's said twice that he despises himself for the accident even though it wasn't actually his fault. being self aware doesn't stop the emotions from emotioning.

he keeps insisting its only sex so urgently to anyone who doesn't ask because he can't even imagine it being anything else. he's both disappointed and relieved when he repeats that stolas sees him as a novelty, because what else can it be?

(there's a whole other spiel of how brave both Stolas and Blitz have to be to say it out loud even when asmodeus can't afford to, considering how publically and completely beaten down both were at the club.)

(there's also another whole spiel about how frustrating it has been for ME to see all these comments over time with such bad takes based on like,, 20 min worth of info of a show that takes months to release an ep. like godDAMN have some patience?? let the story UNFOLD MAYBE? IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO HAVE AN EXPLANATION WHY WOULD YOU CRITICIZE THINGS THAT ARENT EVEN FINISHED ESPECIALLY AN INDIE ANIMATION- i digress)

mind you, this has NOTHING to do with abuse. an abusive relationship is one where one is actively harming the other with full awareness. Stella is an abuser and their marriage is abusive.

and stolitz isn't that; it isn't even unhealthy or toxic. it's a consensual, transactional fuckbuddy relationship that slid into something more for both of them.

but!!!!! one of the main reasons for the problems that everyone looks over is-

they're in a BDSM relationship.

I can't possibly delve into dynamics without making this a 10k research paper BUT even though we've gotten only hints and costumes and dialogue- they're very clearly and undeniably in a BDSM contract. Behind the scenes of this crazy show is a whole different story, of these two delving into the most hardcore kinks out there- knifeplay, painplay, bondage.

if you've gotten into the community, if you've read a couple dozen particularly good fics by authors who know what they're talking about, hell; even if your only experience is fifty shades or 365 or whatever- you gotta know that BDSM scenes are crazy fucking emotionally heavy. there's so much that has gone down between them during their full moons that helluva can't get into!!

but you know how in so many of these popular medias and fics, the dom in the relationship is also like,, the billionaire/mafia heir/prince, etc, the one with financial and physical power? this isnt that. it has been very clearly stated that stolas is subbing, blitz is domming.

now take a moment and think about how much that fucks up the dynamics.

in stolas' eyes, blitz is a confident, dangerous individual who's an old friend and cherished memory of his, who he's trusted wholly with his safety during sex and he's lucky to have; and he has been in an abusive arranged marriage for the past eighteen Years, he's probably not going to be pushing his luck with his dom that much in the first place. plus, blitz is never cowed by him during their conversations- think back to the first phone call right after he stole the book, completely unafraid.

and for blitz, it's someone trusting him again- but it's also a royal- a blue blood who's nearly untouchable and so much more powerful- who couldn't possibly like a piece of shit like him, apart from the sex he gets out of it. he only flirts once he gets some sort of cue from Stolas; he's desperately trying to view this as only a Goetia trying to get his rocks off, despite all the evidence to the contrary, because anything else is unfathomable to him, no matter how clearly Stolas shows it, because of the ptsd.

both of them thinks the other has the power. both of them aren't expecting the other to keep shut if something's bothering them.

and there's so much conflicting messages from the other too!

stolas calls him a plaything when trying to intimidate the humans; stolas cups his face gently and asks if he's alright

blitz asks him on a date and tells him to get better soon; blitz yells that it's only sex and doesn't reply to his messages

ya see?

bring it to fizzozzie for a second now; even though they do look all good on surface, you can still see fizz's trauma and doubt in all their interactions, they're still forced to keep the relationship secret. do you see his face when Ozzie says in hyperbole that he's never leaving the house again, or when someone accuses him of being a pampered house pet or when he got sexualized in the 7th ep? whatever happened in the interim between the accident with mammon, it fucked him UP. even though oz seems to be well aware of this when he tells him not to apologise and in their general interactions, fizz still visibly has trouble separating plaything/commodity from healthy relationship.

shout the fuck out to Ozzie btw, man knows whats UP. rooting for these two so much omg.

i forgot where I was going with this point, I'll edit it when i remember. but yeah! lovely fucking relationship, but damn what angst filled issues.

anyway, to sum up- stolitz is not a toxic relationship. the relationship is stuck sludging through misunderstandings and careless microaggressions and trauma responses, but it's not unhealthy or toxic because of the simple reason that most of the current hurt comes from... a misunderstanding. stolas didn't realise blitz would need reassurance about what they were and blitz didn't see stolas as someone who could get hurt.

unecessarily calling it toxic, even online, is more impactful than people think too. almost all spindlehorse ARE on all social medias; so MANY YouTube animators i know have found jobs there; they see your words, especially since a lot don't tag posts with "anti hb" correctly to keep them out of the main tag. there are Very few queer medias made BY queer people that haven't gone through heavy corporate revisions- helluva boss is practically a historical landmark in its success. it's very very very fucking easy to forget that not ten years ago some of the only queer videos on YouTube were butter lover (one kiss at the end post credits), dirty paws and welcome to hell (subtext).

the amount of "critical talk" helluva boss gets for what it is is very unprecedented. it's a beautiful show. can't wait for the next episode.

[margaretkart]

The Double Standard in Depicting Greek Gods

It’s honestly baffling how people will bend over backward to justify changing the ethnicity of Greek gods while acknowledging that it would be wrong for other deities. The excuses? “The gods have many interpretations!” or “They’re universal concepts!” But here’s the thing—the Ancient Greeks never portrayed their gods as anything other than Greek. That’s a fact.

Now imagine if someone depicted Guan Yu, a major Chinese deity, as a Black man. Or if Thor, a Norse god, was drawn as a South Asian man. Or if Anubis, an Egyptian deity, was suddenly given blonde hair and blue eyes. People would immediately call it out as disrespectful, inaccurate, and erasing cultural history. And they’d be right. So why is it that when it comes to Greek gods, suddenly everything is up for interpretation?

1. "The Greeks themselves had different depictions!"

Sure, different regions had variations in how they portrayed their gods, but guess what? They were still Greek. Whether Athena was shown in Athenian or Spartan armor, she was never depicted as, say, Egyptian or Persian. Regional differences do not equal changing an entire ethnic identity.

2. "Gods are universal!"

Okay, let’s test that logic. Are Shinto kami “universal”? Would it be acceptable to depict Amaterasu as an Indigenous American deity? Of course not. Every pantheon belongs to a specific culture. The Greek gods were born from Greek mythology, created by Greek people, reflecting Greek values. They weren’t plucked from the void to be reshaped however anyone pleases.

3. "It’s just artistic interpretation!"

Sure, and if someone decided to "artistically interpret" African or Indigenous deities as white, it would be immediately criticized as colonialist erasure. So why doesn’t that same logic apply to Greek mythology? If people actually respected Greek culture, they’d represent its gods accurately instead of making them fit whatever aesthetic they prefer.

4. "Ancient Greece was diverse!"

Yes, Greece had trade and cultural exchanges, but Greek religion remained Greek. No amount of foreigners passing through Athens would make Zeus suddenly look Indian or East Asian. Just like how Egyptian gods stayed Egyptian despite foreign influences, and Norse gods remained Norse despite trade with other cultures.

Greek mythology belongs to Greek culture, just like every other pantheon belongs to its own people. It’s completely valid to call out inaccurate representations, and it’s frustrating that Greek mythology is treated as some open-source fantasy world while other cultures get to have their gods respected. If people genuinely admire Greek mythology, they should respect its origins instead of twisting it into something unrecognizable.

[frownyalfred]

Hi. I'm not a canon purist and enjoy some fanon content very much, but I do think people in the fandom should at least familiarize themselves with the canon content and source material. It's easier to break the "rules" so to speak and experiment with canon when you know what that actually is. I've noticed a lot of fans that are only familiar with fanon criticise content that doesn't line up with what they believe to be canon but isn't. The Red Hood for example. I've seen writers who portray him as the violent criminal he is in much of the canon be completely decimated by Jason fans who only know fanon and the retconned version of Red Hood and completely deny canon even exists and refuse to even glance at the comics. Transformative works are important and playing in the sandbox is for everyone but fandom literally cannot exist without canon. Canon is important and people can do whatever they want with it but they should respect it enough to at least look at it.

Hi anon, I'm going to hold your hand as I say this, and I will say it as gently as I can: This is still a form of canon purism.

We can absolutely agree that readers shouldn't berate or abuse writers for how they choose to portray characters in fic, whether that's a more canon-faithful characterization or a popular fanon version. If readers don't like how a character is portrayed, we should encourage them to hit the back button instead.

I want to draw your attention to some of the words you used in your ask above: "should" "respect" "decimated" etc. Those are some strong words to describe how you think people need to behave, in order to exist in fandom. Of course, there is no fandom without canon source material -- I'm not denying that. But with such a wide and varied canon, the DC fandom has examples of the Red Hood you mention above, AND the "retconned" version you also reference. Both are canon, as in actually, officially, canon. WFA is canon, and that Red Hood looks very different from the Red Hood you describe.

Now, I think your issue is that you enjoy a certain version of canon, and you're frustrated that the fandom doesn't also, as trends ebb and flow, enjoy that canon as much as you do. Again, I want to acknowledge that just because a certain version is popular, it doesn't give folks the right to berate authors for writing a different version. But again, I don't think that's what we're really talking about here. From your ask's tone, I think you're suggesting that people should, in order to participate in fandom, read that older canon, that different version, or as you say, "glance at it" before enjoying or writing the fanon version.

Guess what? They actually, really, really, don't have to. It sounds like you have some issues with judging your fellow fandom members who don't read what you do or reference certain canon. But the magic of this fandom is, you can enter it at any point. We're a big pool, and if someone's entry point is the Lego Batman movie and that's it, that's still valid.

Fandom stems from canon, yes, but I almost never hear people talk about movies, or web comics, or other media when they talk about "required reading." It's always a comic. I really wish people would reflect on that before suggesting it as the one true path to being a fan.

The other thing I don't see asks like these reference ever is the reality that sometimes a fandom outstrips its canon material, and that that's an eventuality in some spaces. Fanon interpretations become popular, and people write about those specific characterizations or scenarios. They ebb and flow, like I mentioned, and some are more canon-faithful than others. Some completely reject canon, and again -- it's still fandom. It doesn't make it better or worse than a more canon-faithful fic. It's just different.

I had a couple asks about this topic a few weeks ago, and I'm assuming you haven't read those or you likely wouldn't have sent me this ask. But in them, I discuss how sometimes we need to suck it up and be unhappy that canon-faithful fics aren't as popular in a fandom at a specific time, and stop punishing fellow fans for writing and enjoying those fics. And we really need to stop shitting on them publicly on Tumblr.

Because often, what you're really saying is that you wish more people would write more canon-faithful fics, and stop writing ones about fanon topics you don't enjoy or think are accurate. And to that, I again say, there is nothing you can or should do to change that behavior from others. If you want to read it, write it, enjoy it, etc, do it yourself. Build the comic-faithful community here, write fics and promote challenges, create a discord channel and discuss your "required reading" there.

We are all writing and reading fanfiction at the end of the day. It is a great equalizer in many ways. My silly Lego Batman fic is just as valid as a canon-faithful rewrite of a certain Batman issue. One is not better than the other, or more deserving of respect. You will never get me to admit otherwise on this blog.

tl;dr: people should absolutely not berate authors who choose to write canon-faithful characterizations. however, there are layers of judgement and disdain many DC comics canon-faithful authors/readers have for their fellow fans that I think we need to examine critically in order to coexist respectfully.

[readychilledwine]

Starlight

Summary - After being brought to Terrasen, you find your place beside its Queen and her King Consort. You just seemed a bit clueless as to what that place actually was.

Warning - Reader is oblivious, reader is touch starved, mentions of reading smut

A/n - I wanted to do something short and sweet with Rowan and Aelin this year. I loved the idea of their very aware personalities with a clueless reader. Hopefully, you all will, too

Written for @polysjmweek day 2 reveal

Poly+ SJM Week 2025 Masterlist

✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️

Rowan had never been the type for games. He was forward, aggressive, and sometimes a bit scary if you were honest with yourself. He was the type who had the tendency to take things seriously, but right now felt like a game. 

You were attending a meeting on Aelin's behalf, listening to males and men drag on and on about what the King Consort and Queen needed to be doing. Rowan's sharp green eyes were locked on them all, intent and listening with the intensity you had learned to associate with him since he and Aelin had brought you to safety. He appeared to be the shining example of a king and leader. But under the table, his body told a different story.

A strong thigh was resting against yours, a large, calloused hand resting on your upper leg. His thumb was mindlessly stroking. Up and down. Up and down. His pattern was consistent. Pace slow. It felt odd having him touch you like this. He was mated and married to your best friend, your queen. Yet here he was, playing with the expensive silver fabrics of your skirt as if it were the most normal thing in the world. But perhaps the oddest part about it was how little you seemed to care.

He'd been affectionate the past several weeks. Aelin had as well. One of them was constantly touching you or doting on you. Even verbally, things had shifted between you three. Aelin had said you were a bright star to them, one leading them back home. Rowan had called you a haven, saying your presence put his mind at ease. 

His thumb stroked again, up and down, hand squeezing as he glanced at you from the corners of his eyes. “I think this has gone long enough. I will take the complaints to Aelin,” he waved them off with his free hand. His body relaxed once the room was empty to anyone else, a deep sigh leaving his mouth. Yet, that hand did not move. Nor did he make any efforts to pull away.

When night fell, you found yourself reading with Aelin, the two of you giggling as you traded passages of the frankly filthy books you were reading. You hardly noticed it at first, her hands moving to where your feet rested on the couch, slippers long forgotten on the floor. She gently grabbed your ankles, pulling your legs straight to rest in her lap. Her hand stayed on your ankle, fingers circling the bone as she read. 

She had them change you in a forest green dress for the dinner being held for guests, and you just noticed the way you two matched.  You knew that also meant your dress had coordinated with Rowan, his own outfit that was the same deep green with golden threads. You had noticed your wardrobe shifting. Gone were the dull colors you had been used to. Instead, outfits of expensive silk appeared. All seeming to match the gowns and vests gracing the closets of your two closest friends. Unknown to you, they’d been trying to make it completely obvious, a sign dangling in your face of what they wanted. To their utter frustration, you never approached them. Rowan was at his wit’s end. He craved you, and had you been aware enough of Aelin’s gaze, you would have realized she did, too.

“You are really unaware of what's happening, aren't you,” a deep voice joined you two, Rowan sitting in the chair across from you. 

You set your book down, noticing Aelin already had her own book marked and shut as she stared at you, smirking. “She is just an innocent little thing, isn't she?”

“Innocent or oblivious,” Rowan countered. “We have not been subtle, Fireheart.”

Aelin hummed, her forefinger still stroking the bone of your ankle. “Y/n,” she paused, glancing at her husband for confirmation. He nodded, telling her silently to continue. “We like you.”

You could only smile, hugging your book, “I like you both too-”

“No,” Rowan interrupted. “Do you truly not understand? Are you that clueless?”

Aelin shot him a look of warning, a spark in those eyes. She made him promise that he would be gentle and approach the subject with caution. She flicked her eyes to you, the soft pout and knit of your brows making her heart ache. “Rowan, you gave me your word,” her voice broke the silence. 

His gaze never left you, though, “And you have it. I am just.. stunned we are attracted to such a naive creature.” He caught the pillow Aelin threw without even looking at her, his head cocked slightly. “Have you ever experienced affections from a romantic partner?”

The flush that started began at your chest, fluttering up your neck and cheeks until it hit your barely pointed ears. “I have had plenty of time and affection from lovers-”

“Liar,” he said instantly. “When we touch you, even just that,” he motioned to where you had not pulled your ankles away from Aelin. “Your soul vibrates. We feel it.”

“Rowan,” Aelin whispered. “Gentle.”

He stood, hands now touching your face, “Fireheart, she will not get it unless we just tell her.”

“Tell me what?” The way you looked at him told them everything. Even if you were blind to your own emotions and to theirs, the feeling was mutual, the love mutual. You looked at Rowan as if he was carved by the Gods, every inch of him the embodiment of male perfection. That gentle sweep of his thumb began again, your eyes fluttering as he touched your cheekbone. 

“We love you,” Aelin stated it like it was nothing more than fair. As if she had not just handed you her very beating heart and begged for you to cherish it. “We're in love with you.”

“But you're mates. You have each other and -”

“And yet, here we are,” she shifted. “Feeling this emptiness every night when we don't get to cradle you between us. Feeling on edge when we don't know where you are, who you are with. Feeling at peace when you call our names, when we get to touch you.”

Rowan's voice was oddly gentle now, “We dress you in our colors, have you wear crowns and symbols of our house. We have been showing our love and claim to you for months now, starlight.” He tapped the necklace they'd given you. It was shaped almost like a compass with a centered diamond meant to represent Polaris, the star that sat at the center of the constellation that honored the King of the North. The star meant to guide the lost citizens of Terrasen home.

Aelin was quiet for once in her life, eyes desperately searching your own eyes. “Say something,” her voice broke. “Anything.”

Your throat was too tight to speak, a well of emotion building and pleadinging to come forward so fast you thought you might break. The tremble in your lip made Aelin drop your legs, body moving to you. Then the nod you gave moved Rowan. 

The body heat as they rushed and hugged you was better than any blanket covering your bed. The weight behind their hold was enough for the tears to begin to line your eyes. You had denied loving them for so wrong, believing that they did not want a third. To be so pleasantly wrong, it felt like a fairytale. 

“We will love you until we are called home,” Aelin whispered. “And then, we love you long into the next life.”

“We will always find you,” Rowan murmured into your hair. “Always.”

“Always,” you asked softly. They both nodded, silver lining their eyes as they looked at each other and then you. “Then I'll hold you two to that,” you whispered.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[etheraltides]

BITTER SWEET ᥫ᭡࿔

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x kook!thornton!Reader

Summarize: Rafe Cameron, a rising name in the business world, desperately needs a date for the wedding of the year. With a major investment deal on the line and his image at stake, he finds himself reluctantly turning to the last person he ever expected for help: Topper’s little sister, a girl he’s bickered with since he could remember.

Warning(s): cursing, mention of grief, drugs.

A/N: I hope y’all like long chapter ‘cause your girl seriously got carried away with building things between them. Feedback is always heart warming <3!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Chapter three: Can we call it truce? ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

The hum of the engines filled the cabin, lulling most of the passengers in the business class into a calming state. Most, that is, except for you. You sat beside Rafe, trying to focus on the book at hand, your foot tapping a frustrated rhythm on the floor as he sprawled beside you enough to invade your space, oozing an insufferable amount of calm. Even with the extra room, it felt cramped - his very presence seemed to fill the air in the whole plane. His breathing was annoying you.

Rafe, meanwhile, stretched out his legs, his arm draped across the armrest to the point his fingers would brush your knees if you moved just a tide bi, his gaze lazily drifting away from his phone towards you. "You look like you're about to combust or something." He murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "What? Didn't that douchebag do a good job with you?"

You gritted your teeth, resisting the urge to smack him across the face with your self-improving book, slamming its cover closed. The last thing you wanted was to have everyone looking at you as you shared your lovely words with Rafe. "Why the fuck are you so obsessed with him? Sounds like someone isn't getting laid..." You gave a cynical smile, thriving as you noticed the smirk dropping from his lips instantly. Now, that'd always be priceless. "I wouldn't be, if you didn't act like you owned half of my seat as well."

"C'mon, don't be dramatic." He stretched out further, nudging your eyeglasses as you tried to dodge your head but of course, his long arms would reach you. His smirk widened when you shot him a warning glare, almost as if daring you to do something. "You're by choice, remember? I can always tell Topper about that broken touron... Plus, I paid for both seats so I technically can be as comfortable as I wish."

"Barely." Your eyes narrowed, fingers clenching around the book. "One wrong move and I'm asking for a different seat."

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening enough to grace you with a dimple. A ridiculous dimple that'd be adorable in anyone but not on him. "Go ahead. Maybe you'll find a seat in coach where you belong."

That was it. Without thinking, you raised your hand, drawing the attention of a flight attendant passing by as you smacked your book against his chest with the other, a small satisfied smirk on your lips as you heard him groan.

"Yes, miss? Can I help you?" The attendant's polite smile faltered as she glanced between you, clearly sensing the simmering tension. Even a senseless person could tell. Anyone but you two.

"Yes, actually." You leaned forward, using your best sweet voice but not even it couldn't hide the clipped tone completely. "Could I switch seats? I'm afraid I'd be more comfortable elsewhere."

The attendant looked at you, then at Rafe, and back again, her expression sympathetic but warry. "I'm sorry, miss, but we're at full capacity here in business class. I could check for a seat in coach, but..." She trailed off, her eyes shifting to Rafe's amused expression as he tried to cover his laugh with a cough.

The tension in your shoulders tightened, your jaw clenched as you forced a smile. That’s what you get for trying to be a good human being. “Never mind, I'll manage.. Thank you."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you. amusement sparkling in his eyes as he leaned back, satisfied. "Looks like you're stuck with me." He murmured, his finger hooking on top of you glasses again only to push them lower on the bridge of your nose before you slapped his hand away.

You ignored him, staring ahead and steeling yourself. Yet as the minutes passed by, his presence beside you felt unbearable. You could feel his gaze every now and then, could sense his satisfaction in your discomfort. When the plane finally touched down, you were nearly ready to explode and take the first flight back - but then you remembered your part of the bargain and something strange tugging at your chest.

Hours later, in the quietness of your hotel room, you inspected your dress in the mirror, mind turning over the insanity of this arrangement. Why had you agreed to this? You hardly owed him anything, especially not this. And yet, here you were, preparing yourself to play a role in his life that the mere thought of the idea made you want to throw up. Maybe, deep down, you'd wanted to help, wanted to see him succeed just this once - he had recently lost Ward so... Maybe you could cut him some slack just this once. But as you took one last glance in the mirror, your couldn't shake the creeping doubt that this was all a huge mistake.

By the time you arrived at the beachside reception, you were determined to remain calm, to put up with Rafe and all of this madness for one weekend. You'd view it as one of your college projects. A small leaf of kindness to a boy who lost his father. "I'm doing these for Topper." You thought to yourself. It'd be one less thing for Topper to deal with.

The sun was setting over the ocean, casting a warm golden glow over the guests. It was exquisite honestly. Small tables dotted the pavemented area, surrounded by low, flickering lanterns and decorated with delicate pinkish flower arrangements. The sound of waves mingled with the soft music being played by the band as people chatted and laughed. You inhaled deeply, letting the salty ocean breeze wash over you. It felt good to be away from home. You loved Outer Banks but the way people were always paying attention and gossiping about the smallest steps of each other made you feel like someone had a hand on your throat, cutting your air from time to time. Here, despite a few familiar faces, you didn't have to be Thorton's perfect girl nor live under your mother's pressuring expectations 24/7. Even if you were here to play a fake part, it felt a bit more freeing than being your family's fake part at home. You smoothed down your dress. You could do it and you would enjoy this weekend.

Rafe held back a smile as he shook the man's hand, his heart pumping with adrenaline and pride as South Carolina's biggest real estate agent said he'd love to see some of the properties Ward had left for Rafe back in Charleston either to sell or rent. Rafe needed money after his deception with the Golden Cruise and wouldn't use most of the properties now in his name - that'd be some easy way to make money. The man excused himself with a squeeze on Rafe's shoulder and for what felt like hours, he finally had a moment to breathe.

His gaze shifted through the crowd, looking for a specific familiar face he hadn't seen since they arrived at the hotel - part of him was afraid you'd turn your back and be on your way to Outer Banks now without a word. You hadn't come outside your room when he knocked earlier, though he hadn't exactly waited around to see if you'd answer. He counted to thirty before sending you a text with the location and hour. But now, with the deep hues of the setting sun casting an amber glow across the venue, he spotted you. Faster than he'd like to admit.

You stood on the edge of the terrace, deep in conversation with a small group. The soft fabric of your dress catching the light and floating with each of your movements and the kisses of wind. Rafe's jaw tightened as he took you in, the vibrant color of your dress constrasting with your sunkissed skin and the effortless confidence setting you apart from the crowd. Your lips curled into an easy, practiced smile as you listened to an elder woman, but your eyes held a spark he'd seen many times before - sharp, observant.

A guest brushed past him, and he blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. Shaking his head slightly, he turned and made his way over the bar, feeling the strain of your reality settle in his muscles. You'd worn him thin on the flight, the words you exchange a mix of cutting remarks and barely veiled insults. And yet, here he was, his gaze drawn back to you as if on a string.

While he waited for the drinks, he glanced your way again, just as you glanced toward him - though you looked away just as quickly, a subtle arch of your brow signaling that your attention was far from amused. Rafe's lip twisted into a smirk, though he couldn't shake the strange irritation knotting in his chest.

When he finally turned back with the drinks in his hands, you were nowhere near where he'd last seen you. Annoyed, he scanned the crowd, his brows drawing together. He had texted you to don't be all over the place by yourself, not wanting to risk you doing something wrong that would fall on him. Then, across the terrace, he saw you.

You finally managed to take a breath from your grandma's acquaintances, the tension ebbing away from your shoulders until you felt a hand on your lower back, guiding you forward. You could know it was him before you even looked. That scent of warm spices with a touch of amber. His touch was infuriating to raise a few bumps on your skin. His breath brushed your ear as he leaned closed. "Try not to get too lost in the view, sweetheart." He murmured. "We're her for business, remember? I need you around."

You bristled, shifting away from his touch. "I'm perfectly aware, Cameron. You think I'm talking to them because I'm having the time of my life?"

He laughed under his breath, the sound grating before he sipped on his whiskey. "Relax. You're wound so tight, it's a miracle you haven't cracked yet."

You gritted your teeth, sending him a glare. The comment hit a bit deeper than he probably meant to. "Maybe I wouldn't be if I weren't stuck here with you."

His eyes glinted with something unreadable. "Right. Because I'm such a nightmare." He gave you a once-over, an annoying cockish smirk curling at the edge of his mouth that could barely go unnoticed. Barely. "That's rich coming from the one rolling around with low-life tourists... Just don't embarrass me, alright?"

Your mouth fell open, anger flaring as you held the urge to roll back your eyes. Shit, he would never let you hear the end of it, wouldn't he? Well, you had tried to be civil but he wasn't really helping so two could dance. "Embarrass you? I think I should be the one saying that giving your... history."

"Let's hope so." He said, shrugging nonchalantly but you could notice his jaw clenching, the way he quickly brought the glass to his lips again. You had got him. "This is my reputation on the line, after all."

Of course, he'd give the last word. You felt the urge to shove him, to break through that self-assured arrogance. But instead, you squared your shoulders, grabbed the glass from his hand, and turned your back on him, weaving through the crowd on your own. The farther you were from him, the better. How dared he? Embarrass him? You? He should be thanking you and making sure you were content enough to don't simply abandon him, and not acting like an asshole. "But that was Rafe Cameron." You reminded yourself.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself talking to a few guests, your confidence growing with each conversation and familiar faces. This was more your territory than Rafe's. Some of them you knew because of your grandfather, the others because of your mother, having seen them in the events your family hosted throughout the year - coming from an influential family had its perks as much as it had its downs - but, of course, you wouldn't tell Rafe yet. Then, you notice someone.

Mr. Rossi’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he spotted you. He made his way through the small crowd, his gray hair neatly combed back, a hint of cologne trailing behind him.

“Ah, you have grown so much since we last saw you,” he said, his voice rich with genuine affection. He extended a hand, firm yet welcoming. His grin revealed lines carved by years of smiles.

Before you could respond, Mrs. Rossi appeared at your side, her silk dress rustling softly as she leaned in, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Look at you,” she whispered with a warmth that made you feel instantly at home.

You took his hand, giving it a confident shake, your eyes sparkling. “Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, it’s so good to see you both!” A touch of nostalgia filled your voice, mingling with excitement. “And not just that,” you added, a playful lilt coloring your words as you shifted your weight, leaning slightly forward. “I’ll be taking my grandfather’s place in the upcoming tennis match this year, so... you two better come prepared.” You finished with a wink, your smile broadening as a flush of warmth crept into your cheeks.

Mr. Rossi let out a hearty chuckle, the sound resonating in his chest. He squeezed your hand before releasing it, exchanging a glance with his wife, who raised her eyebrows in mock alarm. “So, you’re the partner he’s been bragging about all lately.” He said, his tone laced with pride. He leaned slightly closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “I guess we better watch out, love” He said to Mrs. Rossi, who nodded with a conspiratorial smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Oh, we’ll be there.” She said, a teasing note in her voice as she crossed her arms gently. “But don’t think for a moment we’ll go easy on you.”

The three of you laughed, the sound weaving seamlessly into the lively background, quickly launching into conversation. You remembered Rafe detailing every single thing about the business partner he wanted to attract but you'd never linked that with Mr. Rossi, an old good friend of your grandpa. You wanted to laugh at the coincide of it all, ignoring the small part of you that worried he'd bring this eventually with your family around.

It wasn’t long before Rafe appeared, a new drink in hand, eyes narrowed as he assessed the scene before him. His gaze swept over Mr. and Mrs. Rossi, then settled on you, a flash of frustration momentarily darkening his features. He took a slow sip, composing himself before approaching with a casual stride, masking the tightness in his chest.

You felt the subtle shift in the room before you saw him, the energy becoming taut. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you glanced his way, catching his eye. Without hesitation, you reached out, your fingers curling around his forearm to draw him closer. “I imagine you’ve already met my boyfriend.” You said, the word ‘boyfriend’ laced with a playful edge that danced just shy of sarcasm.

Rafe’s expression softened as he took his cue, slipping seamlessly into the role. “Not formally.” He said smoothly, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes as he glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Rossi. “Rafe Cameron.” He added, offering his hand with a practiced charm that belied the tension beneath the surface.

Anne’s eyes lit up as she clasped Rafe’s hand, her touch light but approving. “You’ve got yourself a keeper, Mr. Cameron.” She said, her smile sincere as she exchanged a knowing look with her husband.

Rafe chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “I try my best,” he replied, casting a sidelong glance at you. “Though she makes it an interesting challenge.”

Mr. Rossi nodded, a hint of businesslike interest crossing his face. “Speaking of challenges, I hear your office has been making waves recently.” he said. “I’ll make sure to pay a visit while I’m in town for the match.”

Rafe’s eyes flickered with a moment of surprise as he processed the unexpected connection but remained composed. “We’d be glad to have you,” he said, keeping his voice steady.

You squeezed Rafe’s arm gently, catching the subtle tension in his jaw. “Looks like we’ll be keeping busy.” You said lightly, breaking the moment with a smile.

Mr. Rossi chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Indeed. I look forward to seeing just how much you both can juggle.”

The laughter that followed softened the air, weaving seamlessly into the lively atmosphere. Then Mr. Rossi checked his watch, saying it was time for his speech, joking about how he didn't want his daughter going bradzilla for his small delay.

You bit back a laugh, turning to Rafe. "You don't look happy, boyfriend." The word rolled off your tongue sweetly, a pout on your lips as a hint of mockery shone in your eyes.

Rafe's jaw clenched, and he took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze unwavering as he watched you. "You're awfully smug for someone who almost ended up in coach."

"Oh, come on." You retorted, leaning a little closer, your fingers opening the first two buttons of his shirt as you adjusted the collar, feeling a rush of confidence. God, it felt great to have the upper hand on him. "You needed me here tonight more than you imagined, huh? I'm the reason Rossi even bothered with you for more than a call from his secretary and an invitation to this."

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes looking down at your manicured nails on his shirt before he met your eyes, amusement flickering in them but it was laced with something darker. "Don't flatter yourself too much. He had already invited me here to discuss business. You're just playing your part to make me look more... stable."

"Sure... I'd hate for you to realize he'd avoid you in this crowd but yeah, suit yourself. Maybe I should get a cut of whatever deal you're hoping to land here."

Rafe smirked, leaning close enough that his breath ghosted over your cheekYou should push him away. Nope, couples don't push each other away. Playing your part. "Maybe you're enjoying this a little too much. I hate to say it but you look like you're having fun, princess."

Heat prickled at your cheeks as you realized his nearness, but you refused to back down. Couples don't push each other away and as he said, you were here to play your part. "Maybe I am. Pretending I'd choose you willingly has been quite the challenge though. I deserve a medal for this, maybe a Nobel."

Rafe chuckled, low and dark, your hand felt the vibrations on his chest as you tried to recall when you had rested them there. "Keep telling yourself that.”

You found yourself mingling with Mr.Rossi's daughter and her friends as the evening unfolded, laughing over shared stories about her soon-to-be-husband and single days while you sipped on champagne, letting yourself unwind in their easy company.

Across the terrace, Rafe nursed another glass of whiskey, his gaze wandering lazily around the crowd as he tried to pretend to be listening to whatever the man has been telling him for the past few minutes. He caught sight of a few men gathered nearby, theirs heads turned in one direction as they didn't bother to keep their comments to a low tone. His curiosity piqued - anything that wasn't the man talking the details about his basic sanitation network company. Rafe followed their line of sight and he froze, his glass top mid way to his lips.

There you were, surrounded by a group of women, your laughter light and genuine as you gestured with your hands excitedly, oblivious to the attention around you. You looked radiant, a far cry from the guarded, defensive person he was used to sparring with.

For a moment, Rafe felt his breath hitch. You looked... Happy, and there was something about that image, about you, that made his chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. He couldn't tear his gaze away, struck by how beautiful you looked when you weren't rolling your eyes or trying to push him away. Honestly, he couldn't even remember seeing you this carefree... Ever.

Then he caught the voice of one of the men beside him, a dark-haired guy leaning over to murmur to his friend. "Shit, man... I may shoot my shot. It doesn't look like she's with anyone here."

Rafe felt an unexpected, sharp pang on his stomach that quickly irradiated through him, and before he knew it, he was turning to the man with an arrogant smirk, an unmistakble edge to his voice. "She's taken, actually. My girl."

The man raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise and dissapointment crossing his face that had Rafe's smirk widening. "Really? Lucky bastard, hm. If I were you, I'd be as close as possible to her." He gave Rafe an amused nod, his eyes briefly running over your figure one last time before he turned back to his friends.

Rafe felt his grip on the glass tightneing, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his jaw. He was here for business. To show a clean image - he reminded himself.

As he dawned the rest of the liquor, the words that just spilled from his mouth echoing in his mind. My girl. His jaw clenched as the licour hit his throat, the reality of what he'd implied without thinking twice settling heavily on him. He wasn't jealous. Of course not. This was all just a part of the act, part of maintaining the appearances. He was just making sure they didn't ger the wrong idea - that was all. Definitely.

But as he looked towards you, he couldn't deny the surge frustration that rose in him when he saw another guy approach your group, a bright smile on his face as he joined in the conversation. He watched as you smiled back, looking genuinely delighted, your laugh seemed to pull everyone around you into your orbit. His fingers tightened around his glass again, and he felt a strange mix of pride and irritation twist inside him.

After a few minutes of watching, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Excuse me." He patted the sanitation guy on the shoulder without sparring him a glance nor bothering for a reply. He strode over, inserting himself into the circle with a charming smile, though his gaze was focused entirely on you. The other women greeted him with polite nods, but you turned with an arched brow when you felt his arm circling your waist, pulling you closer to the side of his body as if he had every right to.

"Having fun, baby?" He murmured, his eyes scanning your face, noting the soft flush in your ceeks - either from the champagne, him or your laughing, he couldn't tell. "Seems like you're doing better than I expected on your own."

"Why, jealous?" You teased, not missing a beat, a smirk curling at your lips as you caught the slight edge in his tone.

Rafe's smirk faltered for a split second before he forced a scoff. "Of you? Hardly. Just keeping an eye on things. After all, you are here with me, remember?"

Your gaze narrowed as he was the one to excuse himself earlier when both were walking around together and chatting with the other guests. The glint of amusement in your eyes told him that you weren't taking his words to heart. "Oh, I remember..." You replied, tilting your head to the side. "Just didn't realize you'd be so... attentive."

He shifted, suddenly a bit unsure. "I'm just... Making sure everything goes smoothly tonight, alright?" He muttered, sounding more defensively than he expected. "Look, it's not like I care who you're talking to or anything. We just have an image to keep."

You arched your brow, a playful smile tugging on the corner of your lips as you leaned a little closer, dropping your voice just low enough for only him to hear. "Good. Because I almost thought you were jealous, Rafe."

Rafe scoffed, straightening up and immediately tearing his gaze away from his lips to the ocean behind you. "Please. Like I'd be jealous over you... this." He waved a hand, gesturing vaguely at your figure, thought his eyes betrayed him, lingering a moment longer than he intended. Stupid dress.

The band started playing something softer and Lia, Mr. Rossi's daughter, grabbed the champagne glass from the people's hands, handing it to the first waiter that walked by. "Come on. I want all the couples dancing to this. I'd love to have it on footage."

You furrowed your brows, glancing over at her and then Rafe. The idea of dancing with him sounded absurd, even more in a crowd, making you hesitate for a moment but the mischievous glint in his eyes pulled you in.

Rafe held out a hand, his expression challenging. "What's wrong? Afraid you're going to catch feelings?"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could second-guess yourself anymore and make it suspicious, he took your hand and you let him lead you to the dance floor, feeling your heart speeding up. It's okay. It's just like midsummer - you repeated to calm yourself even if you always panicked during dances on midsummer, afraid that’d take a wrong step and all the heads would turn and see you.

The moment his arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you close, you felt a spark of electricity run through you. It was probably your anxiety, right?

The world around you seemed to blur, the hum of conversations fading into the background as he kept you close, his grip strong but not bruising. Firm as he pulled you into a gentle sway, his gaze locked onto yours with something that made your heart race a bit more. His hating gaze looked a bit different...

For once, you weren't fighting, weren't throwing sarcastic comments at each other. You were simply... around, moving in rhythm, caught up in a moment you hadn't ever thought possible. His hand was warm agaisnt your bare back, his touch not letting you move too far from him as he guided you.

Rafe's voiced dropped to a murmur, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. "You don't always need to be at my throat, you know?"

You raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping. Honestly, you couldn't even remember why it started but you were sure he had given you a reason. "And miss out on all the fun? Never."

He huffed a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth curving upward as he shifted his weight, leaning a fraction closer. The playful defiance between you seemed to thrum in the small space left between your bodies. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, but his eyes narrowed, holding yours with an intensity that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “Careful, you might start to like me.”

For a heartbeat, silence settled between you, thick and humming, before you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, shaking your head as a disbelief chuckle left your lips.

“Shut up.” You chuckled, your arms wrapping around his neck tired of holding resting his shoulder because of the height difference.

But as you looked up at him, the warmth of his hand on your back, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, even if it was just for a moment, you’d both let your guard down – and neither of you had hated it.

You and Rafe had just stepped off the dance floor, still laughing over the memory of Topper’s ridiculous stunt at last year’s family gathering. The thought of him, trying - and failing - at impressing everyone with his off-key karaoke performance that he had trained for weeks, was enough to keep the laughter bubbling between you.

“Honestly.” Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “He’s lucky he didn’t break something. I’m not even sure how the microphone survived the entire thing.”

You snorted, your amusement lighting up the moment and you quickly covered your mouth, cheeks heating as you waited for Rafe’s teasing but he did none, the crease on the corner of his eyes deepening as his smile stretched. “I think the whole room aged ten years listening to him butcher that song. We should’ve charged tickets.”

Rafe’s smile softened, and for a moment, the usual tension between you both seemed to melt away. But before you could tease him further, a man approached, his expression serious, as if he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Rafe.” the man said, clapping him lightly on the back, his tone overly familiar. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your father. Losing him like that… it must be incredibly hard.”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. He couldn’t even remember this man’s face. Probably someone that saw him and his dad in one of those award parties. “Thanks.” He replied, his tone polite but distant.

The man seemed to ignore the subtle shift in Rafe’s mood, continuing on with his monologue. “Yeah, I can only imagine. Your father was a legend - everyone respected him. I mean, not many people could’ve built what he did. A huge legacy. It must feel like a heavy burden, huh?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked to you. You could practically see the frustration building in him, but the man kept talking, completely oblivious to the discomfort he was causing or simply not caring enough.

“You know, the pressure of living up to someone like that…it’s gotta be tough. Everyone’s always expecting you to fill those shoes, to carry on the family name. I don’t know how you manage it, but it must be exhausting.”

The tension in the air was palpable, and Rafe was clearly struggling to stay polite. But before he could respond, you couldn’t take it anymore nor risk Rafe loosing his cool here out of all the places.

“I need air,” you blurted out, voice sharp and breathless. You placed a hand on Rafe’s arm, pulling at him urgently. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out or something. I just— I need to get out of here, baby.”

Rafe looked at you in surprise, his brows furrowing for a second before he caught onto it. He stood straighter, clearly thankful for the distraction. You gave him a small but determined nod, practically dragging him away from the conversation.

“Come on, let’s get to the beach. Now.” you added, not giving him a chance to argue. You tugged him harder this time, the tension in your voice sharp, hoping it was enough to convince the man to leave him alone for the night.

The man was still rambling, oblivious to Rafe’s discomfort. “It’s just… it’s not easy living with that kind of legacy, right?”

Rafe turned back to him with a forced smile, cutting him off before he could say more. “Sorry, we really need some air.” He said quickly, his hand around your waist as if you needed to be supported to the way. “She’s not feeling well, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to stay in the crowd.”

Rafe shot the man a tight smile. “Thanks for the condolences.”

The man looked confused but nodded. “Of course. Take care, Rafe.”

As you pulled Rafe toward the beach, you didn’t stop until you were far enough away from the terrace. You let out a shaky breath, your frustration turning into a quiet laugh of disbelief.

“You okay?” You turned your head back, looking at Rafe cautiously once both had put enough distance between the man, almost reaching the beach.

He turned to you, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. “Yeah. Just… feels like everyone wants to remind me of it tonight.” he said, glancing back to the party before he glanced at you, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried keep his emotions at bay. He had lost the count of how many people came to talk to him about his dad and how impossible would it be to fill in his shoes. “You really saved me there.” He rubbed the back of his head.

“It was nothing.” You shrugged, letting out a long sigh as you felt the breezy air in your face.

Rafe gave you a grateful look, his stiff posture relaxing a little. “No, I’m glad you stepped in. That guy was relentless.”

You stopped just before you could step onto the sand and bent down to slip off your heels, the sound of your dress rustling as you lifted the hem to avoid dragging it through the sand.

Rafe’s gaze lingered on you, a mixture of admiration and confusion etched across his face as you balanced your heels in one hand. For a fleeting moment, you noticed a hint of something in his eyes, something that made your heart race. You released his hand to free up both of yours, but the sudden loss of his warmth sent a strange ache through you, as if you were missing it. Must be the chilly wind.

“Are you coming or what?” you called over your shoulder, a teasing lilt in your voice that made him smile.

The sound of the waves, rhythmic and calming, filled the space between you, casting a serene contrast to the fading noise of the party behind. The cool night breeze touched your skin, making you feel both exposed and comforted, wrapped in the solitude of the beach.

Rafe stood beside you, his features illuminated by the silver glow of the moon. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blunt, rolling it between his fingers with easy practice just to make sure it was tight in place. You watched him discreetly, curiosity stirring as he flicked the lighter and brought the flame to the tip. The brief burst of light illuminated his features – sharp jawline, focused eyes, the way his lips curved slightly as he took a drag.

You couldn’t look away, your eyes tracing the path of the smoke as it curled and rose, dissipating into the cool night air. It felt almost intimate, watching him like this, and you swallowed, trying to steady your thoughts when he turned and caught your gaze.

“Want some?” His voice broke the silence, low and inviting as he could sense your eyes on him.

A rush of nerves surged through you, mingling with anticipation. “I uh… haven’t smoked before. Topper always said it’d look bad for the family and that mom would disown me if she ever found out” you admitted, the corners of your lips lifting in a faint, rueful smile though your voice was quieter than usual, small.

Rafe’s brow arched, the shadow of amusement flickering in his eyes. If only you knew the things Topper did whenever he magically disappeared from the parties. “And what do you think?” The question was casual, but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.

You took a breath, letting the salt-laced air fill your lungs. “I think I’m done caring about that.”

His smirk grew, and for a second, the intensity in his gaze softened. “Good.” He took another slow drag, the orange ember glowing against the dark, and held it out to you. His fingers brushed yours as you reached for it, a spark of contact that sent a shiver through you.

“Just inhale slowly, let it settle,” he said, his voice steady, a grounding presence in the rush of your heartbeat.

You brought the blunt to your lips, eyes flicking to him once more as you mirrored the movement you’d seen him make. The smoke tasted sharp, unfamiliar, and you exhaled with a cough, eyes watering slightly. Rafe’s smirk turned into a grin, warm and teasing. Almost proud.

“Not bad.” he said, amusement lacing his words. “Better than most the first time.”

A laugh escaped you, loosening the last of the tension. “I’ll take that.”

The two of you walked slowly, the cool sand shifting beneath your feet as the night deepened. The warmth from the smoke spread through your chest, lifting the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the way the moonlight traced the strong lines of his face.

“Do you smoke often?” you asked, more to break the silence than anything else and you wanted to slap yourself for the question. Really?

Rafe’s expression shifted, a brief shadow crossing his features. “Not really. Only when I need to clear my head.” He looked out at the horizon, where the dark sky met the shimmering waves as he took the joint from your fingers, taking a long drag. “It helps keep the noise out.”

A quiet understanding settled between you. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been” you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of what you didn’t say. “Losing your dad…”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, his guard slipped, cracking enough to allow you to catch a glimpse of the raw ache beneath. “Yeah.”

For a moment, the space between you felt smaller, the silence charged with shared vulnerability. You took another drag, the taste still foreign but less jarring, and exhaled slowly as Rafe’s eyes returned to yours, something unreadable in their depths.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen over the waves as they rolled in. For once, the silence wasn’t biting.

You took another careful drag, this time holding it a bit longer before exhaling, just like he did earlier, but you were still unable to get rid of the cough completely. The warmth in your chest spread further, easing the last traces of tension from your body. It was strange and exhilarating to be here, outside the lines your mom had always drawn for you, with him of all people.

Rafe broke the silence, his voice softer, almost contemplative. “You know, you don’t have to be ‘perfect’ all the time.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a hint of something unreadable in his expression. “It’s okay to let people see the real you. Acting like a human being and all.”

The words hit deeper than you expected. You looked down, your toes digging into the cool, damp sand. “I don’t even know who that is half the time" you admitted, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, swinging your heels softly to distract yourself from the embarrassment in your chest.

Rafe turned to face you fully, his expression serious but not hard. “Maybe it’s time you find out.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart stutter. You met his gaze, and for a moment, everything else fell away - the distant party, the rolling waves, the cool bite of the night air. It was just the two of you, standing on the edge of something that felt completely new.

Before you could say anything, he took a step closer, close enough that you could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way the moonlight caught the flecks of grey in his blue eyes. The scent of smoke and saltwater surrounded you, heady and grounding, mixed with his perfume.

“Rafe…” Your voice came out quieter than intended, the space between you charged with tension.

He searched your face, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah?” His voice was low, a whisper meant for only you.

The truth is, you didn’t know.

You felt the urge to close the gap, to see what would happen if you let yourself fall just a little further into this to see where would it go. But before you could move, he reached out, fingers brushing your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was fleeting but sent a shiver down your spine.

What was happening?

“I kinda like this version of you.” he said, the honesty in his tone making your heart thump wildly.

For the first time in a long while, you felt seen - not as the person everyone expected you to be, but as yourself. The realization was both thrilling and terrifying. You looked up at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I do too.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and without another word, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his fingers placing the blunt in front of your lips. The two of you walked without a hurry and direction, the few glasses of champagne you had earlier and Rafe's glasses of whiskey distracting both of you from the situation, from what it looked like and what it could possibly mean.

The air between you felt different now, the silence thick with something unspoken, the kind of tension that crackled in the spaces between your words. Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours a moment longer than usual before he shifted his gaze back to the horizon, where the moonlight kissed the waves in a dance of silver and blue.

A strange warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading through your body like the soft glow of embers catching fire. The world felt sharper - every scent, every sound more pronounced. The night air nipped at your skin, but it felt distant, almost dreamlike.

Then it hit you like a wave crashing against the shore: you had just smoked weed. You, the one who had lived carefully, each step monitored, each decision weighed against the unspoken expectations of your family, had done something completely impulsive. The absurdity of it made your lips twitch, and before you could stop it, a small laugh bubbled up from deep inside.

You covered your mouth quickly, but it escaped anyway - another giggle, this one louder and harder to contain. You shook your head, eyes wide with disbelief, and tried to stifle the sound, but the harder you tried, the more it slipped free.

Rafe's gaze flicked to you, his lips curling into a grin as he watched you. “There it is” he teased, a knowing lilt in his voice. “I was wondering when the giggles would show up.”

You shook your head in mock exasperation, still unable to stop the fits of laughter, feeling your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I just did that. I actually smoked weed. Oh my God. Don't tell Topper!" You looked at him with wide eyes, pointing a manicured nail towards his chest.

Rafe arched his brow, his head leaning down until his breath was touching your ear. “What’s your bargain?”

You blinked for a second, before you pushed his chest away, letting out a dramatic “Ew, Cameron!”

Rafe chuckled, his voice warm in the cool night air. “Welcome to the club, sweetheart. It’s liberating, isn’t it? Letting go for once?”

You nodded, the last of your giggles dying down as you met his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at you - understanding, maybe a little deeper than you expected. It made your chest tighten in a different way now.

“Yeah..." you whispered, your voice softer than before. “It really does.”

The next few moments passed in a quiet, comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft rush of waves against the shore. Every so often, a burst of laughter escaped you, and Rafe joined in, his chuckle easy and carefree.

By the time you reached the hotel, the city hummed with late-night life, a symphony of distant laughter and the occasional honk of a cab. The mix of champagne and weed had left your steps unsteady, your senses softened around the edges. Somewhere along the way, Rafe’s arm had slipped around your waist, steadying you as you swayed with a giggle. The warmth of his touch felt too natural, too easy for two people who supposedly couldn’t stand each other.

“You think we’ll make it to the room before I collapse in a heap of elegance?” you teased, the words slurred with playfulness, though a flicker of doubt clung to the end.

Rafe smirked, casting a sideways glance down at you. “At this rate? You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you over my shoulder already,” he said, voice threaded with a teasing edge, but there was a softness there, something almost protective, that he quickly masked.

You leaned into him, the movement instinctive, your giggle breaking free as you stumbled slightly. “Oh, please. I’m fine.” you quipped, tilting your head up, your eyes catching his. Without thinking, your hand pressed against his chest, fingers curving around the muscle beneath. You blinked in surprise before watching your brows at him. “Damn, nice boobs.”

His eyes widened for a split second before he threw his head back in a laugh, the sound reverberating through him and into you. “Jesus, Y/N.” He felt the heat rise in his cheeks, an unfamiliar sensation he brushed off with a roll of his eyes. He caught your hand as it lingered, the playfulness replaced for a heartbeat with something charged, before he let it go with a chuckle. “Keep that up, and I’ll start charging for these services.”

“So that one was on the house?” you asked, your grin lopsided, unable to hide how much you were enjoying this rare break in your usual dynamic.

Rafe’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, the walls you both kept between you forgotten under the haze of laughter and the city lights. “Depends. Will you keep assaulting me?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound a contrast with the rather quiet lobby but none of you could care less. For once, none of you were being bothered by the image that you were supposed to keep and the animosity felt like a distant memory, replaced by the sharp realization that maybe pretending wasn’t the hardest part after all.

Once inside the hotel, you both went straight to your hotel rooms. You fumbled for the key cards, sliding one into the door, but the red light blinked mockingly. You tried again, turning the card. Still no luck. Your frustration began to mount as you tried once more, and then again, but the door stubbornly refused to open.

Rafe stood back, watching with a bemused smirk. “Having trouble?”

“Are you serious right now?” you muttered, glaring at the door. “These damn things are broken, I swear.”

���Sure, sure,” Rafe said, his grin widening. “You’re not just the problem, huh?”

You shot him an exaggerated glare but couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up again. “I swear, it’s not my fault.”

“Right.” Rafe teased. “Because nothing is broken when you get involved.”

He glanced over at you, his brow furrowed. “Great.” he muttered, pulling the card out and trying it again, only for the light to flash red, mocking him. He tried once more - still nothing. His expression darkened with frustration.

“Rafe, are you sure you know how to use those?” you teased, leaning against the wall, an amused grin tugging at your lips.

He shot you a half-amused, half-annoyed glance. “I’m not an idiot.” he said, giving the card one last try before slapping it against his palm. “It’s the damn door.”

With a sigh, he turned to the door across from yours - the one that led to his room - and gave it a shot with his card. You leaned in just enough to watch, your curiosity piqued. He slid his card in, turning the handle with the same precision.

Nothing. Again.

“Well, that’s just great!” he muttered, letting out a punch on the door before he . He looked over at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

You snickered softly, crossing your arms. “Looks like we’re both stuck.” you said, your voice laced with teasing. “Are you sure you paid for the rooms, Cameron?”

Rafe shot you a playful glare. “I blame the hotel staff” he replied, rubbing his forehead as if this whole situation were somehow their fault. He shoved the card back into his pocket. “Let’s check the front desk.”

As you both headed toward the elevator, you couldn’t help but notice the faint frustration in his eyes. But there was something else there, too - a glimmer of something you couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the way he’d been looking at you all night like he was trying to figure you out, or maybe it was just the ridiculousness of the situation.

The receptionist smiled sympathetically, taking the cards from you and swiping them through the system. You glanced over at Rafe, your eyes landing on his red, bloodshot gaze, and blinked in surprise.

“Damn, dude. What happened to your eyes?” you asked, voice a mix of shock and amusement.

Rafe shot you a side-eyed glance. “Shut up.” He muttered, but there was no hiding the playfulness in his voice.

You paused for a second, a small laugh escaping as your mind quickly connected the dots. “Wait, wait. You’re high as hell, aren’t you?” you teased with a grin, whispering as you thought the receptionist wouldn’t hear but the poor lady did a good job at pretending.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, smirking even more. “You’re real observant one, huh.” he replied dryly, his eyes narrowing as he watched the receptionist typing on the computer, ready to cause a scene.

Just as you were about to keep joking, Rafe suddenly pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you. You blinked, a little surprised, but he just raised the phone to show you the screen with a smug look on his face.

There, right on the screen, was a close-up of your face – your eyes bloodshot and glowing red.

You froze, staring at it for a moment before your face broke into a laugh. “Oh my god, really?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles.

You leaned in to get a better look at the photo, your own laughter bubbling up. “That’s cute. We’re matching, Cameron!” you joked, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe shook his head, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but there was warmth in his voice.

The receptionist checked the system again, then looked up, a surprised smile on her face. “Actually, I see that your rooms has been upgraded.” she said. “Mr. Rossi made special arrangements for you. You’ll be staying in one of our premium suites, with an incredible coastal view.”

Rafe exchanged a glance with you, both of you processing the unexpected news. "Upgraded?" you repeated, still a little disoriented. "Wow... really?"

The receptionist handed you two new key cards with a smile. “Yes, enjoy your stay. All your luggages and belongings have been transferred already.”

“Guess we’re living the high life now,” Rafe said with a grin, taking the cards from her.

You snorted at his words, still buzzing with laughter. “Yeah, right… Literally.”

You both headed to the elevator, your footsteps light as you approached the suite. As the door opened, you brows shot up. A king-sized bed sat in the center, surrounded by luxurious vintage furniture. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a panoramic view of the coast - moonlight glimmering on the water, the soft rumble of the waves reaching your ears.

But then you looked at the bed again, and your stomach sank as everything clicked into place. You slowly turned to face Rafe, wide-eyed.

“Wait… we’re sharing this bed?” you asked, the realization slowly sinking in.

Rafe snorted. “Guess so. Unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’m not sleeping on the couch. But how are we going to-?”

“What? Afraid you’ll be tempted?” He arched his brow, a teasing smile on his lips as he already move to his side of the bed, kicking off his shoes.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I’ll take the bed. You can take the couch.”

“Not a chance.” Rafe cut you off with a raised hand. “I’m not sleeping on the floor either, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You paused, thinking it over. “Okay, here’s the deal. You take one side, I take the other. No crossing the line, no touching. Agreed?”

Rafe crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’ll agree to those terms, for now.”

The two of you stood there for a long moment, an unspoken tension between you, both looking each other in silence as if in some sort of staring contest.

“Fuck, whatever.” You sighed, running a hand on your hair as you could feel your eyelids too heavy. “I’m too tired for this shit.”

The soft click of the bathroom door broke the silence as you stepped out, the quiet only punctuated by the steady thrum of your heartbeat. You hesitated, taking a deep breath before moving. The silk ivory nightdress you wore was far too short to be comfortable with someone else in the room. The fabric brushed high on your thighs with each step, and a delicate lace traced the neckline, dipping low enough to tease. A matching robe hung loosely around your shoulders, but it offered little coverage - just the pretense of modesty. You had packed it for the warm weather but you didn’t imagine you’d share a room with him.

You’d taken your time getting ready, hoping that by now, Rafe would be asleep. But as you tiptoed around the bed, trying to slip under the covers unnoticed, the soft click of the lamp switch made you freeze.

Warm light bathed the room, casting shadows that flickered along the walls. You felt his eyes on you, burning with a heat that made the silk on your skin feel even thinner. Rafe was propped up on one elbow, his hand the back of his head and eyes sharper than they should be at this hour. The smirk that curled at the corner of his mouth sent a shiver through you.

He let his gaze travel slowly, unapologetically taking in the way the nightdress hugged your body. The ivory silk clung to your curves, highlighting the bare slope of your shoulders and the length of your legs. The lace skimmed the line of your chest, delicate and inviting. His eyes lingered where the fabric dipped and rose, tracing every detail as if he were memorizing it.

“Couldn’t sleep…” He said, voice low, the tease there but edged with something that made your breath catch. “But I see I might now.”

A nervous laugh escaped you, and you pulled the robe a little tighter, though it did nothing to ease the warmth spreading through you. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake.” you said as if trying to explain yourself, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Rafe’s smirk morphed into something deeper, eyes glinting as he pushed himself to sit up, muscles flexing under the thin cotton of his shirt and you’d never admit your gaze wandering to the contour of his muscles. “With you bringing the bathroom down? Not a chance.” He paused, the humor giving way to a quieter, more intense look. “You know, you don’t have to hide.” he said, nodding toward the robe that you tightly wrapped around you as you were almost curling on yourself.

Your fingers hesitated on the fabric, heart pounding as his words settled between you. The buzz from earlier, the laughter and sharp words, had dulled into a warmth that made your skin tingle. Still clouded with the weed and the drinks, you take a deep breath and take off the robe, quickly sliding under the covers and pulling it up your chest.

“If you’re trying to make peace between us,” he murmured, eyes darkening as they met yours. “this is a damn good way to start.” The playful lilt in his voice didn’t quite mask the heat simmering beneath it.

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your lips lifted. “I thought the blunt of peace was already shared.” you said, voice soft but daring. The tension between you crackled, unspoken and electric.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he exhaled slowly. “Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, the word low and rough, like it slipped out without permission. He dragged a hand through his face, eyes looking to the ceiling as his head hang back before he shifted, grabbing a pillow and placing it firmly between you on the bed, quickly turning off the lamp.

“Good night, trouble” he said, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a mix of teasing and resignation, as if trying to convince himself more than you.

The corner of your mouth lifted, heart still racing as you pulled the sheets over you. “Good night, idiot.” you whispered back, the space between you feeling smaller than ever, despite the pillow.

The room settled into silence, but the tension hummed beneath it, making sleep a distant thought.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

TAGLIST: @megiiite @melsunshine @maybankslover @wearemadeofstardust0 @lilithblackkk @slutforoldermen @louxmcl @peter-parkers-gf @yootvi @v4mp1rr3

[lubilli]

𝗸𝗻𝘆 𝗵𝗰𝘀 ➠ "cutie!"

synopsis: the hashira men when you call them cute/a cutie

ft. rengoku, giyu, sanemi, obanai, muichiro, tengen

warnings: they're all softies here 💔

r. kyojuro

• he was training while you were watching

• "you're doing so well, kyojuro!"

• he was all blushy cuz u complimented him

• he's used to compliments but it just felt different when you did it

• maybe bc you never really compliment anyone

• and maybe bc he has a praise kink

• "awww, kyojuro, you're such a cutie!" you squealed when you saw the pink dusted all over his cheeks

• his brain almost short circuited

• not even joking

• he's been complimented on his looks before.

• he's been called handsome, good looking, but...cutie? that was a new one

• "kyojuro? are you okay?"

• "yes, y/n! i am completely fine!"

• he said that while his cheeks literally looked like tomatoes

t. giyu

• you just got back from a mission looking half dead

• when giyu saw you, his face literally looked like this -> 😨

• how tf did you even manage to hurt yourself this bad..

• he DEMANDS to patch up ur wounds

• that brings you to your current situation, sitting on giyu's bed while he tends to the wounds

• you winced when he got to a certain cut on your thigh, he glares at you

• "you wouldn't be in this situation if you weren't so reckless, y/n." he scolds you

• you just laugh, "you're cute, giyu."

• it takes him a while before he realizes what you said.

• "did you call me..cute?" he furrows his brows

• "yes..because you are cute."

• continues tending to your wound even though he's literally dying inside

s. sanemi

• he's so aggressive its so hard to find him in a vulnerable state

• ur literally the first hashira to see him all calm

• when he's not screaming and yelling, he's actually really cute

• he loves cooking for you

• he's doing that rn

• "is it good?" he asks

• "it's a little salty..."

• "why can't i ever get this recipe right?!"

• he's so frustrated

• he's tried to cook this one recipe 5 times now but there's always a little too much of a certain ingredient

• you chuckle at his reaction & ruffle his hair

• "you're really cute, y'know?"

• wtf did u just say

• did u just call him cute...

• "WHAT'D YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

• those manic eyes found their way back onto his face

• he's yelling at you but you can see the pink dusted all over his cheeks

• you started calling him cute more often

• acts like he hates it but he literally loves it sm

i. obanai

• you started getting close to him recently

• you found out he actually really likes poetry

• you'll just be sitting under/on a tree and he'll be reading his lil poetry books while you're just dreaming

• you think its so cute when he shows you lil poems he really likes

• "this one reminds me of you" he points to a poem on a page

• you shift your attention from the clouds to his book

• it reads, "A faint clap of thunder,

Even if rain comes or not,

I will stay here,

Together with you."

• bro.

• you died

• why is he so cute sometimes

• scratch that, he's always cute bro

• you smiled so big, "you're really cute, obanai."

• you moved a strand of his long hair and tucked his behind his ears, seeing his beautiful heterochromatic eyes.

• he looked at you with so much love bro

• "cute?" he tilted his head

• "yes, so cute."

• he's a mess but he just nods and continues his reading

• although he literally can't focus bc ur now the only thing on his mind

t. muichiro

• you don't know how you even got close to him

• but he will NOT go cloud-watching without you now

• takes you to his favorite spot

• he just talks abt the clouds while you mess around with his hair

• sometimes braiding it, sometimes doing pigtails or ponytails

• "woah," he stares into the sky with awe

• "what happened?" you ask

• "that cloud looks like a turtle." he pointed

• you looked at it and it really did look like a turtle

• "oh and look, that one looks like a heart." he pointed somewhere else

• wtf hes so cute

• "so cute," you squish his cheeks

• he looks at you dumbfounded

• takes him 4-5 business days to process what you just said

• when he realizes his cheeks flushed pink

• he's literally never felt this before

• wtf type of witchcraft did u put on him

• you tilt your head, "what's wrong, muichiro?"

• "i don't know, but my cheeks and ears feel really warm."

• you laugh, "you really are cute, muichiro." you ruffle his hair.

u. tengen

• you and tengen are close friends

• his estate is like your second house

• started getting close to u bc ur flashy in his eyes

• then he got sent on a few missions with you and your bond grew even more

• anyways you were in tengen's estate rn

• "tengen," you frown

• "hm?"

• "my stomach hurts."

• he frowns, "should i get you a heating pad? do you want water? medicine? chocolate? massage?"

• you smile, "its fine. no need."

• "yes need. i'm not gonna let you endure your pain, y/n. that's very unflashy." he crosses his arms

• "you're such a cutie, tengen."

• he lifts a brow, "cutie? yes, i suppose being a cutie is very flashy." he nods. "now, tell me what you want—heating pad, chocolate, medicine, water, or massage?"

• "you're so stubborn." you shake your head, "but a chocolate sounds nice."

• "done deal. stay here and i'll get you some."

• he came back w some delicious ass chocolate

• "call me that more often. its very flashy."

• "call you what?"

• "cutie."

• you smile, "your wish is my command." you took a bite of the chocolate.

• he pat your head, "get well soon."

[pawofassumption]

law of assumption: what i wish i knew sooner (part 1?)

It’s so easy that it’ll be difficult.

if you’re on loa tumblr you’ve most likely been told the same information over and over again, yet you have a hard time putting it into practice and it causes you to feel stuck or frustrated. why? because rewiring your brain to follow a completely different way of living takes time. And rereading loa posts actually doesn’t make you a procrastinator, reading it over and over again helps your brain digest all the new food. when you’re learning a new language, you don’t hear the words once and then remember them immediately. repetition is how you learn and succeed.

so don’t feel bad about ‘overconsuming’ loa content. its actually good because reading in repetition helps you learn and grasp new concepts. you aren’t doing anything wrong by overconsumping, or paying attention to the 3d. trial and error makes you smarter, and no regular person can master the law immediately, the point being, don’t let frustration consume you for reacting to new information in a human way.

you’re doing everything correctly, and things will click in your brain as you continue learning and applying the law. in no way am i saying you should sit back and spend hours consuming rather than applying, but this is just more of a reminder that you’re on track and being realistic with yourself can actually help you get there faster.

this post might strike a lot of the loa community as negative but these are things i wish i knew to make the process more digestible. if this post does well i may make a part 2!

[ourseasone]

CHAPTER 001 ∘ ∘ ∘ for fuck's sake

previous masterlist next

fucking stupid.

as soon as you open your eyes and take in your surroundings, the realization hits you like a ton of bricks: you've been utterly, irredeemably stupid.

the place you're in is unfamiliar and unnerving. a dull ache pulses in your temples, but it's not nearly enough to distract you from the bitter storm of self-recrimination swirling in your head. did you really hand yourself over to potential kidnappers like some naive idiot from a bad thriller movie? as you mentally replay the events that led you here, you can't help but wince at your own idiocy.

stupid, stupid, stupid!

but honestly, could anyone really blame you? could anyone in your position have turned down such a tempting offer ━ a chance to earn an unimaginable amount of money just by playing a few games? you were desperate. hell, desperate doesn't even begin to cover it. you were drowning in debt, with creditors breathing down your neck and no lifeline in sight. the offer had felt like a miracle, a hand reaching out to pull you from the abyss. who wouldn't cling to that?

still, there's a difference between desperation and outright stupidity. and now, you're painfully aware which side you landed on.

the room you're in is massive, disorientingly so. its sheer scale makes you feel like a speck of dust trapped in an enormous void. the walls loom high above, featureless and sterile, painted in some dull, colorless hue that makes the space feel even colder. it's a dormitory of sorts, packed with bunk beds that stretch upward like towers. you count five levels, maybe more, stacked so precariously that you half-expect someone to fall off the top at any moment.

in the center of the room is a massive screen with the number 456. you have no idea what it means, but something about it makes your stomach churn uneasily. your gaze sweeps over the people gathered in the room ━ a sea of strangers dressed in identical green tracksuits.

it's only when you glance down at yourself that you realize you're wearing the same dull green outfit. your fingers brush over a patch sewn onto your chest: 127. your number. the sight of it triggers fragmented memories: leaving your house last night, wearing your usual black tracksuit, and...

your eyes narrow.

did those freaks actually change my clothes?

the thought sends a wave of revulsion crashing over you. it's not just the outfit; they must have taken your personal belongings too. your phone. your wallet. your everything. the implications of that alone make your skin crawl. these people stripped you down ━ literally ━ without your consent, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.

"fucking hell," you mutter under your breath, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

before you can sink further into spiraling thoughts, a sharp ringing noise jolts you back to reality. a bell. it's been going off for a while now, but you were too preoccupied to notice. the other people around you are stirring, climbing out of their bunks and shuffling toward the center of the room.

you hesitate, your eyes darting across the crowd, searching for even a single familiar face.

nothing.

everywhere you look, there are strangers. hundreds of them, all milling about in the same green tracksuits, each marked with a different number.

you sigh. reluctantly, you slide off your bunk and join the crowd. attracting unnecessary attention doesn't seem like a good idea, and staying put isn't much better.

the moment your feet hit the cold floor, the room's massive doors creak open, and a group of people in red jumpsuits enters. their faces are completely obscured by masks. you instinctively step back, leaning against one of the bunk bed frames as you try to put some distance between yourself and the crowd.

the man at the front of the group speaks first. his voice is low and slightly muffled by the square-shaped mask he wears.

"i would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you."

you tilt your head, studying the group dressed in red with narrowed eyes. the leader's mask is square, while the others in the back wear circles.

is there some sort of hierarchy here? and why the masks? are they hiding their identities? does that mean you've stumbled into some kind of fucking illegal place?

"everyone here will participate in six different games over six days," the square-masked man continues. "those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize."

cash prize. the words send a shiver down your spine. your heart flutters with a strange mix of anticipation and dread.

the room falls into a deathly silence for a brief moment, as everyone exchanges glances with each other.

"excuse me," someone finally spoke up.

your gaze shifted toward the voice. it belonged to a woman ━ number 120, according to the patch on her chest. she stepped forward with a confident air, but your sharp eyes caught the subtle tremble in her hands.

"you said we'd be playing games," she said, her voice steady but edged with steel. "but you practically kidnapped us. how can we trust you?"

it was a valid question, and one you had been wondering yourself. you didn't even know where you were, let alone who brought you here.

"i apologize," the masked replied. "please understand that it was necessary to maintain the game's security."

before you could even process that flimsy excuse, the room erupted into chaos. voices rose in a cacophony of anger and confusion as the crowd began hurling questions and accusations at the masked figures.

"what's with the masks, then? is your face a secret too?"

"yeah! why are you hiding your identity? are we in some kind of illegal gambling house?"

"even dealers don't cover their faces like this!"

you didn't bother adding to the noise. you doubted you'd get any real answers, and besides, you were too busy sorting through your own thoughts. still, you listened carefully, hoping someone else's questions might align with your own.

eventually, the masked man managed to regain control of the room.

"to ensure fair gameplay and confidentiality, it is our policy not to reveal the faces and identities of staff," he said. "please understand."

you rolled your eyes. the vagueness of that explanation was almost insulting.

"did you take my clothes and put these on me?" another girl piped up.

"what's with these shoes?" a guy said. "my shoes are limited fucking edition. they're hard to find! you going to replace them if they get ruined?"

you weren't sure whether to be amused or deeply concerned.

"these don't fit, and the color sucks," the girl grumbled. "can i just have what you're wearing instead? i like pink."

this time, you were genuinely amused by the absurdity of her complaints, and the person next to you shot you a weird look when you stifled a laugh.

"i'm sorry, but that is not possible. you must be in your uniforms for the games," replied the square guy, his tone flat and unyielding.

as the conversation moved on without you, you allowed your thoughts to wander, sinking deeper into the chaos in your head.

if you really thought about it, maybe this whole game thing wasn't some elaborate scam after all. maybe it was real. the rules, the setup, the masked figures ━ it all seemed ludicrous, but wasn't that the point of reality shows? the absurdity, the spectacle?

could it be something like the ddakji game you played with that strange man on the subway? granted, that had been straightforward ━ nothing more than flipping tiles and enduring a slap. this, however, seemed infinitely more intricate.

but still, it couldn't be anything that bad, right? it's not like someone was going to die or anything.

you pressed your lips together as doubt gnawed at the edges of your thoughts. then again, if something sounded too good to be true, it probably was.

not that it mattered to you. you needed the money. no, needed didn't even cover it. you were drowning, suffocating under a mountain of debt. you'd run out of options long ago, and these games ━ whatever they were ━ had shown up like a beacon in the night.

six games. just six. that's what the masked man had said. how hard could it be?

you snapped back to reality as the masked man's voice echoed through the room, pulling you from the haze of your thoughts. at first, you thought you'd misheard the announcement, that your mind was playing tricks on you, twisting words in a desperate attempt to distract you from the absurdity of your surroundings.

"player 333, lee myeong-gi."

you froze. no. it couldn't be. there had to be hundreds of people in south korea with that name. thousands, maybe. yeah, it was a coincidence. just a cruel coincidence. it had to be.

but the faint hope you clung to crumbled as quickly as it had formed. the square-masked guy gestured toward the massive screen at the center of the room. the lights dimmed slightly, and your breath hitched when the screen lit up with a video.

the grainy footage played in full view of everyone.

your ex-boyfriend ━ the one you'd broken up with just a few months ago, cut all ties with, and tried to erase completely from your life ━ was on the screen, getting slapped across the face with an almost comical force. the sound of the slap echoed louder than it should have, reverberating in your ears like a twisted mockery.

for a split second, you thought you might laugh at the absurdity of it all, but the laughter caught in your throat, choking you.

of all people in the world, it had to be him? and of all places, it had to be here?

you clenched your jaw, a silent scream ricocheting through your mind. you had no idea how to process what you were feeling. anger? disbelief? a nauseating mix of both?

the universe wasn't just mocking you ━ it was toying with you. what were the odds? your hands curled into fists at your sides as you glared at the screen, trying to will it away.

more videos flashed onto the screen, showing other participants getting slapped, but you barely registered them. you prayed, prayed, that your own face wouldn't appear next. it wasn't just about avoiding humiliation, though that was a large part of it. the real terror clawing at your chest was the thought of myeong-gi spotting you here, in this hellhole of a situation.

to your immense relief, your face never appeared on the screen. maybe the universe didn't hate you entirely.

"all of you in this room have crippling debts and are now on a cliff-edge. when we first came to you, you did not trust us either," the masked man continued. "but as you know, we played a game and gave you money as promised. and so you trusted us and volunteered to participate according to your own free will."

you exhaled sharply, your patience wearing thin.

"tou have one last chance to decide. do you want to live like a piece of trash, running from creditors? or will you seize the last opportunity we are offering?"

the logic was irrefutable. what else could you do? this was your last shot at digging yourself out of the bottomless pit of your life. the alternative was to crawl back into the misery you'd come from. that wasn't living ━ it was surviving. and you were tired of surviving.

the lights dimmed again, and the room filled with whispers of confusion as a mechanical hum descended from above. you glanced up and blinked in disbelief as a massive piggy bank was lowered from the ceiling. suspended in midair, its glossy surface gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

"what the hell?" you muttered to yourself.

a piggy bank?

"what you see now is the piggy bank where your valuable prize money will be stored," the masked man explained. "after each of the six games you will play, the prize money will accumulate in this piggy bank."

you stared at the giant pig, your thoughts racing.

how much money are we even talking about here?

someone beat you to the question. "how much is the prize money?"

you straightened slightly, trying to appear indifferent as you shoved your hands into your pockets. but your ears were tuned to every word, your heart pounding in anticipation.

"the prize money for the games is 45.6 billion won in total."

your breath caught, and your lips parted as the number settled in your brain. 45.6 billion won?

"holy shit..." you murmured under your breath.

your mind reeled, struggling to process the sheer enormity of it. that wasn't just life changing ━ it was life shattering. it was enough to erase every ounce of debt you had and still live comfortably for the rest of your days.

"and one of us will get it?" the guy from earlier pressed.

"we will give you the details about the distribution of the prize money after the first game. for these games, you will be given a special new advantage."

"what is it?" an elderly man asked.

"after each game, you will be given a chance to vote on whether to continue the games or not. if the majority votes to stop the games, you can leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point."

you rolled your eyes. quit now, when there's that much money at stake? who in their right mind would even consider that?

"are you saying," someone speaks up again, "we'll still receive the money, even if we leave after the first game?"

the square-masked man is silent for a moment before finally responding. "that is correct."

what happens next, you have no fucking idea.

the number burns into your brain, larger than life and impossible to fully comprehend. if you win the six, that staggering amount of money would be yours. 45.6 billion.

it was life-altering on a scale you couldn't wrap your head around. your hands instinctively tighten in your pockets as you fight the urge to fidget. it's insane. completely absurd. yet here it is, dangling in front of you like a glimmering prize at the end of a dark and twisted tunnel.

your thoughts drift to the game that had brought you here ━ the bizarre ddakji match with the man in the suit on the subway. that had been pretty easy, almost laughably so. a simple flip of a folded paper tile. you were only slapped twice. could the games here really be just as simple? just six games, and all your suffering, all your debts, all your problems would evaporate like smoke.

it's too good to be true. you know that. deep down, in the rational part of your mind, you know this entire setup is shady as hell. the masked organizers, the strange location, the sheer amount of money ━ it all screams danger. but what choice do you have? your desperation outweighs your doubt.

if things get too complicated... maybe you'll think about quitting. maybe.

a sudden shuffle of movement breaks your reverie, and you blink, snapping back to the present. you realize, with a jolt of mild panic, that all the participants have lined up in seven orderly rows. your stomach churns as you glance around, trying to piece together what you missed.

damn it, when had they given instructions?

swallowing your unease, you decide to play along. you quickly step into the second row, adopting an air of indifference to mask your confusion. hopefully, no one notices you're completely clueless.

when your turn finally comes, you step forward. the masked person standing before you is silent, their posture unnervingly still. they hand you a piece of paper without a word. your gaze drops to the document, your eyes scanning the text.

▍ PLAYER  CONSENT  FORM : O1. a player's not allowed to voluntarily quit the games. O2.  a player who refuses to play will be eliminated. O3.  the games may be terminated upon a majority vote. in case of a tie, players will vote again. O4.  if the games are terminated, players will divide the prize equally.

the rules are simple, concise, and far too ominous for your liking. the word 'eliminated' stands out like a glaring red flag, but you force yourself not to dwell on it.

you exhale slowly, your breath barely audible, before picking up the pen lying next to the form. your hand hovers for a brief moment, but it's not hesitation. you've made up your mind already. without overthinking it, you scrawl your signature at the bottom of the page, sealing your fate.

whatever you're signing up for, it can't be worse than the life you're already living.

you'd planned to head back to your bed after this. all the endless talking had worn you out. all you want now is to collapse onto your bed and let the weight of the day fade into nothing.

but, of course, life never goes according to plan.

a scream echoes through the room, and you turn your head to find the source ━ standing in the center of the commotion, flushed with equal parts embarrassment and irritation, is none other than your ex-boyfriend.

you only stare. you’ve got to be kidding me.

the man is mid-argument with another participant. from what you can gather, myeong-gi seems to be getting scolded, though the exact reason escapes you. you sigh, dragging a hand down your face as frustration bubbles to the surface.

of course. of course, it's him.

"for fuck's sake," you mutter, shaking your head as you turn away from the scene.

you're too tired to deal with this right now.

previous masterlist next

note ∘ ∘ ∘ for obvious reasons, in this book, myeong-gi is not the one who got my girl junhee pregnant. i just don't have the energy to craft an elaborate storyline around those circumstances.

taglist ∘ ∘ ∘ @suunani @academiq @startaegi @okaycharr @mayaswrld1212 (please let me know if you wanna be added!)

[cultkinkcoven]

I get the thing of wanting to be as harmless and uncontroversial as possible in your craft. I understand white witches trying their best not to encroach on closed practices or cultural appropriation. I understand wanting to cancel problematic occultists and generally push the witchy community away from its history with white supremacy and racism. I get it, I really do.

and I say this with love and try to come across as gently as possible.

Some of you, though your intentions may be pure, don’t seem to recognize the difference between genuine caution and concern and blatant white saviourtism. I promise you that people of color don’t need white witches to speak for them. I promise you that it is not your responsibility to be the saviour that enforces what is and isn’t problematic, especially when you yourself are so clueless about the issue at hand.

People who don’t know even the first thing about Judaism shouldn’t be trying to herd all of their white friends away from Lilith or dictate why you shouldn’t use magick with a k. It’s frustrating because the original message gets completely lost every single time.

Jew witches will say “hey guys maybe don’t work with Lilith if you don’t understand her origins because she’s not just a girl boss mother of demons but also has a lot of history in our culture as an extremely violent and chaotic energy that actively victimizes women and children”

But all that tumblr heard was “Lilith is associated with Judaism and that means she’s a religious figure and can’t be worked with by non-jews” without having even the slightest clue what her role in Judaism was and why people advise caution. Saying that Lilith is a religious figure to Judaism tells me that you’ve never even met a Jewish person in real life.

People will say “hey Crowley was actually a piece of shit and shouldn’t be idolized as a wise practitioner when he was literally just an extremely racist heroine addict who tricked a lot of women into having sex with him for rituals”

But all that tumblr hears is “Crowley bad. Anything associated with Crowley also bad. If you do anything that was associated with Crowley you are also bad.”

Indigenous witches will say “Hey white sage is an extremely sacred herb that is being heinously over harvested by corporations selling the witchcraft equivalent of fast fashion and it’s causing severe harm to indigenous businesses and communities, please stop supporting them”

but all that tumblr heard was “White sage shouldn’t be harvested. If you get white sage from anywhere, even indigenous people themselves, you are racist.”

and in retaliation to that super hard stance you have witches who have decided they don’t care about respecting closed practices in general and purposely buy from non indigenous sources out of spite

“I don’t know enough about this topic to have an intelligent stance on it” is ALSO a perfectly acceptable position. You don’t have to be opinionated about things you don’t understand. You’re more than welcome to just avoid the things you know would make you uncomfortable to participate in without pushing blatant misinformation.

Most occult spaces have some sort of historical tie to icky stuff like racism, misogyny, ablism, etc. You’re not a bad person for recognizing that and wanting to stay away from them. I’m happy you care.

But you are not an authority on things you’re uneducated about. When you pretend to be you only muddy the words of the people you’re supposed to be helping.

Saying shit like “using magick with a k is just as antisemitic as using a swastika” completely waters down what real antisemitism is, and makes the matter less serious than it actually is.

Saying “working with Lilith is just as antisemitic as working with the Tetragrammaton” is just a complete slap in the face to practicing jews, and you don’t know why because you don’t understand Judaism or the people who created it. You can’t understand it because you’re so busy talking over them that you never took the opportunity to listen.

Before you make the decision to run these mass cancelation events, take a second to consider if you’re doing this because it’s actually important and something you truly understand, or if you’re just doing so to feel morally pure and accepted by your fellow politically correct white peers.

[ilonii]

Bartender Sukuna Headcanons - R.S

Bartender Sukuna who hates his job but is so damn good at it. Every time he works the bar is packed!

Bartender Sukuna who is such a stereotype. A tall hot guy, with tattoos and tight black shirt walks into a bar and……no one is surprised. If you could imagine everyone’s hot, dream guy bartender, it’d be him.

Bartender Sukuna who loses points on the personality section. His drinks are great, but his chat is poor. He already isn’t much of a talker, which is why he didn’t expect to last so long in this job. But pear it with too many flirting girls, aggressive drunk guys and underaged kids tryna work a drink off him, he’s a total nightmare to be around.

Bartender Sukuna who you can totally trust with your cup. Drunk girls unknowingly leave their drinks unattended all the time, and Sukuna watches each and everyone of them. If another person, male or female even attempts to get close to your cup, he’s on top of it, instantly.

Bartender Sukuna who hates hookup culture, especially in bars. Drunk sex is so sloppy, and wet. It’s 10% sex and 90% delirious efforts to actually get there.

Bartender Sukuna who rarely ever entertains women. Let’s be honest, he’s a really hot guy, so it’s not uncommon that women approach, and try to take him home. Now while he does appreciate the ego boost, he refuses to entertain anyone he couldn’t possibly see a future with.

Bartender Sukuna who loses all this logic the second he meets you.

Bartender Sukuna, who has quite literally never seen someone so beautiful. You were so different. It was a unique vibe, something about the air around you. From the way you talked, to the slight twitch of your lip before you smiled, to your mannerisms, everything you did completely encapsulated him.

Bartender Sukuna who cannot function every time you enter the bar. It throws him off his game in more ways he’d care to admit. He’s spilling drinks, messing up orders, billing the wrong people. The whole thing is just a complete disaster and you’re to blame.

Bartender Sukuna who already hates your friends. He thinks you’re too good for them. They’re sloppy drunk, don’t pay much attention to you, and ditch you for random guys at the end of every night.

Bartender Sukuna who isn’t the least bit surprised when you stumble over to the bar with a sad look on your too pretty face.

“What’s got you so down in the slums”

 He can’t believe he’s actually talking to you.

“Nothing”

Okay, not giving him much to work with there.

“Then why are you pouting so hard. Keep it up and your face’ll get stuck that way”

You chuckle.

You’re laughing at his jokes? Just say the word and he’ll marry you right now.

“It’s my friends, they always ditch me at the end of the night”

What assholes.

“Let me think, this is the third time this week they’ve done that yeah?”

“Heyyy, how’d you know”

“I’m a bartender, its my job to know my customers”

“Well, you’re not wrong. It’s just frustrating because I’m happy that their finding people and all that but it’s every night, sometimes I just wanna get through the evening with just us you know”

“Well, if you ask me, you need new friends anyways”

“Well good thing I didn’t ask”

“Ooo feisty, I like it”

“Yeah whatever”

“Cmon you should smile more, you’re too pretty to be this sad”

“Ugh, do you use these lines every night? Try something else”

 Gosh, he’s never met a women so combative, he loves it.

“No that was actually a new one, I take it you aren’t a fan though”

“No not at all, but you’re cute so I think I’ll let it slide”

You think he’s cute? He’s totally got this in the bag.

“Well, for what it’s worth I think you’re pretty cute too”

Bartender Sukuna who spent the rest of his shift talking to you. He doesn’t think he’s ever said so much in his entire life. But the conversation just flowed, it was so natural.

Bartender Sukuna who’s ashamed of how quickly he offered to take you home. When it was finally time for you to depart, he was worried about you driving even though you had maybe one or two not very strong drinks. He was surprised to hear that it wouldn’t be a problem because you ubered here and intended to take one back. But what kind of man would he be if he didn’t at least offer to take you himself.

Bartender Sukuna who has absolutely no idea how he ended up in your bed with you beneath him.

Bartender Sukuna who has the best sex of his life that night.

Bartender Sukuna who before he falls asleep, with you in his arms, is already planning your first real date.

border by @plutism

[anotherspookyarchivist]

I have sinned some more. Here's another Stan in a Can snippet. For story context please look at this post, which includes the first two parts. Warning for those unaware, but this is a dark story; The funny name is misleading. "Communication". (CW: death, implied suicidal ideation, dehumanisation, emotional manipulation)

78467. 78468. 78469.

Lee was feeling something. An approximate of something. He tried to squish the feeling, because he didn’t want to risk Stanford’s mood before they’d even started.

Trepidation. That’s the word. It didn’t like the idea of complete detachment. Appeasing Stanford was important, but there was a part of him that knew that complete detachment would leave it with nothing.

It couldn’t see. It couldn’t touch. It couldn’t do anything. It’s trapped in this emptiness that is vast and unyielding.

Oh. That’s… interesting? Stanley stopped the mental count, disrupted by an actual memory. It liked the memories from the outside, it was hard to remember what reality looked like once – and Ford’s descriptions just weren’t enough for him; But the occasional memory – when he remembers seeing the outside world? Those memories have become his most cherished possession.

Thinking about its state reminded it of something that happened before Lee’s undeath. A different sort of darkness. A different sort of blindness. He’d felt so much back then, hadn’t he?

Rope burns on his arms, as he tried to shuffle out of them. Feelings of panic? Fear? Anxiety? Probably quite the mixture of it because it had been afraid to die. What a silly thought, he had been naive. Naive and in a lot of pain. Moreover as he had aggravated his injuries while trying his best to get out of that trunk. He had felt the pain for weeks after, its teeth were ruined; bruises everywhere on its vessel as it’d tried its best to find a new hiding spot.

If Stanley could smile, he would have. If he tried hard enough he could maybe remember what that felt like. To possess and be in control of a vessel and to feel its damage. The darkness of the trunk was still more than what he could see now, but maybe he could ‘play’ as if it were the same. That in just a few numbers he’d be finally try and move and feel a sting of something.

Then he discarded the thought.

Too risky.

He let go of the memory for now. The count was already quite high, and Stanford promised he’d return. So it’s better to not fall into any sort of emotion. Emotions were a low number thing. It was risky to dwell on them after 7484… or was it 6135?

Especially not now, where it was already struggling to keep itself in check. This must be the closest to happiness it’s felt in a while, and that was already dangerous. There was no need to add more.

It continued to count, and at 91362 it happened. Ford returned.

“Hello Stanley”, his brother always sounded so happy when he visited it. But Lee knew that he had to stay calm.

Hello Ford

“You won’t believe the day I’ve had.”

Let me guess, the portal?

“Yes, the portal. Again.” Oh, Stanford sounded… annoyed? Or maybe frustrated. It was hard to grasp. But the other continued quickly, before Stanley could get a word in. “It’s already been syphoning most of my time but today, had proven itself to be worse than usual.”

That sounds bad.

“I apologise for my delay.”

Don’t worry about it.

“Though, in all fairness, I should be blaming McGucket.” If that was the case, then Stanley would blame them too. He’d never met this McGucket person, but since Ford knows them, they have to exist… but it didn’t want to miss its chance, so it quickly asked for elaboration.

What happened?

“Oh, I know you’re curious Stanley. I’ll tell you about, if you’d like – and if you promise not to tell anyone else.” One nice thing about wherever it was placed in – Lee could hear Ford so well. All the nuances of the other were somehow transmitted to it. It wasn’t like he was hearing it, and yet it was. There was no other voice than Stanford’s, no noises or interruptions. And yet, it could hear his brother’s sighs, and laughter, as well as the other’s anger during moments where it had messed up. Ford was such a good scientist; To be able to create something so impressive (and empty. It’s empty so empty and it hates being left so alo-). Focus. It wasn’t worth thinking about this. Not during their conversation.

He could hear Ford laughing at his own joke. Ford being happy was good. It meant that it hadn’t messed up, yet.

I won’t tell, I promise.

“We’ve attempted another parallel expedition” is what Ford started with. The portal, Stan had to admit, was something it didn’t quite understand, but he didn’t mind Ford telling him about it. It didn’t matter if it understood or not.

“We’ve been increasing the amount of excursions for a while. It’s mostly to fulfil those frustrating quotas as presented by the government.” the other paused for a moment, and Stanley tried to imagine what Ford looked like right now. Eyes twitching? Hands shaking? Those were things that a person could do….

Oh, it had nearly missed his brother’s next words. He really should be listening. He was being rude and ungrateful. Ford was talking. It liked it when Ford was talking, so he’d better be attentive.

“Oh Lee, you wouldn’t believe how demanding they’ve become. I’ve been tempted to use McGucket’s Memory Gun and to… erase some of our work from their memories, though that would also erase any potential of future funding.” Ford sounded unhappy about it.

“Sadly, the upkeep of the Institute demands that we work with the government, even if we don’t like it.” and there was it again. A huff. Oh, this one the thing in the void recognised all too well. It’s had enough experience by now to keep itself in check.

“But it’s not like you can judge me, Lee. I know what you did to survive.”

I wouldn’t have judged you either way, you know.

“I know you don’t like to hear it, but I still don’t understand why you didn’t consider asking me for help. You sold yourself for scraps. Debasing yourself over and over, instead of asking for my help; Not even when we met up again did you think about telling me. You drove off. Stanley, you’re impossible.”

It didn’t respond.

“This is exactly why we’re in this position now, you know? If you’d been honest with me, I could have helped you earlier.”

I know. I’m… I’m sorry.

“But at least I get to keep you safe now. There’s nothing that could hurt you.”

Yes. Thank you. Thank you. And I’m sorry.

“I forgive you. You hadn’t known any better, and now you do. You’ve been doing so well, Lee. I know you’re trying your best.”

I do. I am.

There’s only silence. It was familiar.

1. 2. – wait Ford was probably still there. For some reason the other wasn’t talking? But Stanley didn’t worry. Worry would only lead to Ford leaving for real.

Ford? So, what happened with the portal?

“You’re right. I was supposed to tell you about today’s mishap.”

It waited.

“There was an incident during today’s parallel expedition. McGucket and his team were visiting dimension 4546B, while I was observing their trip from the lab; The dimension had previously shown up on our scanners – and we’ve already categorised it as ‘dangerous’… but we had not been aware of any additional dangers.”

So wha-

“One person from the expedition team came into contact with their parallel self.”

Oh.

“We hadn’t even known that a simple touch could cause such destruction. The dimension was immediately falling apart – and I had to ensure that the expedition team would return safely nonetheless.”

The guy?

“Sadly, the team-member didn’t make it. Seemingly disintegrated before the rest of the team, which was a whole other issue.” It was sure that it could hear Stanford thinking loudly.

“It was both fascinating, as well as horrifying. A danger that we’ve been completely unaware of.”, there was amusement in his brother’s voice.

“Poor Fiddleford. He’s still really bad at handling these intense moments. I do wonder if he’ll be willing to continue leading these excursions.”

Maybe Fiddleford would also need to learn how to ignore emotions?

“The whole dimension collapsed. It doesn’t exist anymore. So much potential information lost in a blink of an eye. The government asking for reports that we don’t have. That’s why I’ve been gone for so long, Stanley.”

Don’t worry. The number wasn’t that high. I’m glad you’re here.

“Moreover, it was suggested that we increase security and change our protocol for interdimensional travel – again. For safety purposes. Just to ensure that it doesn’t happen again.”

That sounds like more work.

“I agreed”

oh. it knew what would come next. That’s why Ford had been so happy to talk about his day.

“I really thought that this would be done by now – but work really keeps piling up. But I know you. You don’t want me to overwork myself, and you don’t mind waiting for a bit longer for that communication model, do you, Lee?”

…

“I knew you wouldn’t mind. Thank you, Stanley. And you know that I’m just so happy to have you here with me, have you support me throughout all of this. As always, my closest confidant.”

…

“You’ve settled in so well, really. I promise you, you’ll get that communication device as soon as I can make the time. I know this is important to you.”

…

“You just have to trust me.”

I do. I have to.

...It wanted to trust his brother so badly. He wanted to be able to have more at his disposal than this mimicry of a real conversation. The illusion often shattering at inopportune times. Leaving Stanley with this empty feeling, because anything else was not allowed.

“I’ll see you again soon, right Stanley. Stay safe.” a chuckle, and then nothing.

Goodbye Ford.

It waited for a bit. And then for a bit longer. And when nothing else changed and it remained in the void, he began once again to count. He wanted to trust his brother… but he just started the count. The number was low. Stanford wouldn’t return before he’s reached a higher number. It allowed itself to feel. Just for now. No one would have to know. Just until the number was higher.

And it let itself feel; It tried to grasp the first emotion it could find within its being, and so he let himself feel fear.