#anyways. references in edits include:

[takeitwithgrace]

do you ever get so autistic over 2 pieces of media at the same-time, that you decided to create edits of the 2 of them combined?

(reblogs/likes? no problem! 👍)

[whollyjoly]

in those heavy days in june, when love became an act of defiance

song - june by florence + the machine

special thanks to @xxluckystrike for getting me back into f+tm and to @panzershrike-pretz @ronald-speirs for giving me feedback/hearing my rambling brain thoughts as i made this!

[daily-dr-ratio]

WIP...dr ratio my beloved

Reference:

[reginavulturum]

Batman Beyond Series Timeline

NOTE: I created this timeline based on the idea that Terry doesn't become Batman until the second half of his sophomore year and then I just sort of pieced everything together from there and it worked out pretty well for the most part. If I've messed anything up though, please let me know. I've included some further explanations for my decisions about this timeline as well as some thoughts about how this timeline effects the series after the read more. Also it might be helpful as you read this to have the episode list on hand.

Between January and May of 2039, during the second half of Terry’s sophomore year, he becomes Batman. This time spans from “Rebirth” to “Earth Mover” with Terry becoming Batman before Spring but after he turns 16. This puts his birthday between January and, at the latest, March, assuming the Spring Fling in “Golem” happens right before Spring break. This means that Spring break of 2039 occurs between “Golem” and “Meltdown”.

Summer break 2039 occurs between mid-late May to mid-late August over the time span of “Joyride” to “Lost Soul”

The first half of Terry’s junior year begins in mid-late August of 2039 and ends sometime in late December. This time spans from “Hidden Agenda” to “Final Cut” with Winter break occurring between “Final Cut” and “The Last Resort”.

The beginning of the second half of Terry’s junior year starts sometime in January 2040 until Spring break. During this time, Terry would have turned 17. This time spans from “The Last Resort” to “Zeta”. Spring break occurs after “Zeta” and ends right around the time of “Plague”. The rest of Terry’s junior year occurs in the time span of “April Moon” to “Ace in the Hole” (approx.  mid-late March to mid-late May) with “King’s Ransom” occurring either right before or right after the beginning of Summer break.

Summer of 2040 occurs from mid-late May to mid-late August. “Return of the Joker” happens sometime after “King’s Ransom” but before “Untouchable” with “Untouchable” being the last Summer episode before the new school year.

The first half of Terry’s senior year begins in mid-late August of 2040 and ends in late December. This time spans from “Inqueling” to “Unmasked”. “Out of the Past” occurs in late October. From “Out of the Past to “Unmasked”, the rest of the season takes place between November and early December. The crossover episode with “The Zeta Project”, “Shadows”, has to occur immediately after “Countdown” in either late November or early December with “Unmasked” happening shortly after that.

The “Static Shock” crossover episode “Future Shock” occurs after “Unmasked”, either right before or right after the beginning of Winter break of 2040 in late December.

The "Justice League: Unlimited" episode "Epilogue" occurs 15 years after "Rebirth" when Terry is 31.

1. The Zeta Problem

(a) In the animated series “The Zeta Project”, we’re told that Zeta (see "Going Rogue" section) broke from his programming and went on the run in early August of 2041. This timeline assumes that that date is incorrect along with any other timeline discrepancies caused by that show. “Zeta” can’t be in August if “Plague” is in March.

2. Assumptions and Explanations

(a) I know some people think that Terry’s exchange with the security guard outside Blight’s office in “Rebrith” (“little early for Halloween”/”just in time for Fall”) means that episode occurs in Fall of 2039, but sometimes a joke is just a joke and it makes more sense for the Spring Fling to occur in “Golem” two episodes later if Terry became Batman only a couple of months at most before that dance.

(b) Max likely discovers Terry is Batman towards the beginning of junior year, around late August to early September at most. I and others place this episode in Fall because a poster for a Homecoming Dance is featured in one scene and those usually happen at the beginning of the school year. I think the GAT is probably a General Aptitude Test given at the beginning of each new school year to determine where students are at academically before finalizing class schedules.

(c) In the episode “Revenant”, Terry’s reference to Willie getting out in time for junior prom after two more months in juvie could be read as “just in time for junior prom [at the end of the school year]” not that they’re necessarily two months away from the end of junior year. With Spring break happening nine episodes later, a lot more time than two months would have to pass for Willie to get out just barely in time for junior prom.

(d) The episode “Eyewitness” most likely occurs in November of 2039 since Sam Young is up for re-election as district attorney.

(e) The reason I set “Out of the Past” in late October of 2040 is because in at least one other Batman cartoon, "The Batman" (2004), Bruce's birthday is in October (see "Trivia" section). If you do a quick google search, there's like three other birthdays/months listed for Bruce across the DC multiverse so I just went with the one that was most convenient to my timeline and I make no apologies. Either way it has to be in Fall or Winter because "Return of the Joker" is in Summer of that year.

(f) I tend to think that “The Call” had to occur during Thanksgiving break because I can’t imagine Mary would have let Bruce send Terry to Metropolis if he wasn't on break, but that’s just an assumption.

(g) I believe Terry’s training with Kairi began around the start of his senior year and continued through until part 2 of “Curse of the Kobra”. I believe the events we see through most of part 1 of “Curse of the Kobra” occurred over the same span of time that passes between “Inqueling” and “Betrayal”. Mostly I believe this is the case because Terry’s training probably would have taken months and thinking of it this way makes the timline a bit tidier.  

(h) I set “Future Shock” right after “Unmasked” because KOBRA has a new leader (Zander is gone) and I kept it in December on the timeline because Terry looks dressed for cold weather.

(i) In the "Justice League: Unlimited" episode "Epilogue", Terry says that he was 16 when he became Batman. Some people think that means he didn't become Batman until the beginning of his junior year, but it's just as possible he became Batman during the second half of sophomore year if he has a birthday between January to March at the absolute latest (see my first bullet point for why). We know "Epilogue" occurs 15 years after "Rebirth" because Dana says she and Terry have been dating for 15 years and we know they likely didn't start dating until just before "Rebirth" when they were 16.

3. Rebirth Recontextualized

(a) Assuming “Big Time” occurs in September to early October of 2040 and we know Charlie Bigelow spent two years in jail, than he and Terry must have gone to prison sometime in September to early October of 2038. This would’ve been during the first half of Terry’s sophomore year and explains why in “Rebirth” he’s been split up from Matt (his parents think he’s a bad influence) and why things are so tense between him and Warren. If Terry was arrested in September/early October and did 3 months then he might not have gotten out of juvie until around late December/winter break, right before the series starts during the second half of his sophomore year. It seems that between his release and becoming Batman is when he and Dana got together since Mary talks like she doesn’t really know her in “Rebirth”. He’s basically just a couple months out of juvie when he becomes Batman.

(b) The first comic featuring Batman was published in March of 1939, so “Batman Beyond” starting around the same time of year in 2039 is really satisfying. As it happened, it was fairly easy to fit a timeline around that start time without too much finagling.

[badolmen]

Was talking with my dad about how he’s the only family member I can really crack my gay jokes with and he starts telling me how important it is that I have non-family friends to be my unfiltered self around (in far less articulate words). It made me think of one of his friends, which he enthusiastically confirmed that I needed someone just like that and.

Father are you telling me I need someone to have homoerotic tension with to the point of distressing both our heterosexual partners?

[transtrucy]

worst part of being a huge vs fan is that while i have this whole space in my brain dedicated to phoenix and hershel’s relationship during the seven year gap influenced by both series, i don’t know how to casually reference it without the majority of readers being like professor layton????????????

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

[pencil-n-pen]

YOUNGBLOOD

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ . ۫ ꣑ৎ . ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

rafe x fem! black cat! pogue!reader

masterlist | kofi | next part

wc: 9.3k (sorry)

summary: summary: You’re the girl. Every guy who asks you out gets the same answer: No. You don’t do dating anymore. But as your reputation grows, so does the challenge. And when Rafe Cameron gets you in sights, he’s not about to give up.

cw: Rafe and reader are both assholes (hers is justified bc to me women are always correct) but it works out. oh also this one is a little spicy !! ofc not full smut but this is Rafe Cameron we’re talking about i can’t NOT include a LITTLE. ward jumpscare for like two seconds, references to past shitty relationships

tags/tropes: he falls first and harder (seriously he wants her BAD) black cat x doberman, kind of how to lose a guy in 10 days vibes, at first Rafe wants her bc of the challenge but eventually he just WANTS her, mild hurt/comfort, dom! rafe but also he does whatever reader wants (except stop trying to date her)

a/n: in this fic i imagine reader being one of those super fluffy feral black cats and then rafe is this doberman sitting behind her. walk him like a dog sis walk him like a dog

i’m so glad i finally finished this i’ve been writing it for ages but here it is !! hope u guys like it <3

EDIT 2: part two is up you heathens :) (affectionate)

songs i listened to while writing: Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer, Meddle About by Chase Atlantic, Champagne Coast by Blood Orange, Salvatore by Lana Del Rey, Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey, Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey, sex money feelings die by Lykke Li, Angel by Massive Attack and Horace Andy

title taken from Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer aka this fics anthem

. ݁₊ ⚜️ . ݁˖

He meets you in, of all places, a fucking Barnes & Nobles.

There’s one Barnes & Nobles in the entirety of Kildare Island; it’s on the North side.

Rafe is only there because one of Kelce’s current flings is obsessed with reading those smutty books. Race doesn’t get the appeal. Apparently, the fling is at home sick and Kelce wants to get her something to make her feel better.

Rafe and Topper both think the partying might seriously be affecting his brain chemistry.

But anyway, Kelce asked Rafe to help because he’s “got a way with wooing women” and then since Rafe was going he said fuck it and invited Topper, who will surely be the voice of reason in all of this.

(He seriously doubts it, since Topper almost died in a burning building for the sake of his girlfriend, but whatever. Rafe just doesn’t want to deal with pussy-whipped Kelce by himself.)

They’re on their third go around the store and Rafe is beginning to contemplate the pros and cons of just grabbing the nearest book of the shelf and telling Kelce to just fucking pick something when he spots you:

Straining to reach a book on one of the top shelves. Looking perfectly and immaculately delicious.

“Yo,” He smacks Topper’s arm, getting his attention, “Who the hell is that?”

Topper follows his eyeline, landing on you.

“No fucking way, dude. No chance.”

He frowns, turning and looking at Topper, affronted.

Topper shrugs. “No offense, man. I tried once. All the guys in the island got this stupid-ass nickname for her, too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mhm. The Pogue Princess. She’s turned down every single guy to ever ask her out. Even the Kooks.”

Rafe snorts. “So she’s arrogant?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. I totally thought she was a bitch when she turned me down, but honestly, it makes sense. People only ask her out because she always says no.”

“So?” He scoffs. “She’s fucking hot. She should be flattered.”

He looks her up and down again. “I’m gonna ask her.”

He can picture it exactly: having the one and only Pogue Princess hanging off his arm. The girl no other guy has banged— she’d be his, and his only. He’d have those lips and that face— he’d have you.

And you’d have him, of course. Not many girls can say that.

“Suit yourself man. Don’t come crying to me when she turns your ass down.”

He strides over to you, sidling up next to you, leaning against the shelf.

“Hey,”

“No.”

He blinks. “What?”

“No. No I don’t want your number, no I don’t want to sleep with you, no I don’t want to go out with you.” You say, not looking over at him once.

“Well, how come, doll?” He says, leaning down a bit so he’s closer to your height. “We could have a good time, you and me.”

“First of all,” You start, pulling a book off the shelf. “It’s a known fact that Rafe Cameron doesn’t date Pogues. Secondly, I can tell you exactly how this relationship would go. We’d date, and then after a few weeks you’d grow sick of my Pogue-ish ways or something like that. We’d break up, and then I would be seen as even more of a social pariah than I am now. I’d be unwelcome in Pogue spaces because I’d forever be the girl who dated Rafe Cameron just to get her heart broken like all the others, and I’m already a stain on this side of the island, but I’m willing to bet your groupies and fanclub would increase their ridicule if I was ever seen here. So no.”

He lets out a low whistle. “You’ve thought this out.”

“No I haven’t. It’s predictable.”

You re-shelf the book you were holding then walk away, stalking deeper into the store.

He looks back at Topper once, flashing his best friend that dangerous smile.

Topper groans in the distance, all too away of the effect a challenge has on Rafe Cameron.

—

You have to say. You’re a little surprised to feel his continued gaze on your back, even more displeased to hear his footsteps trailing behind you.

“You won’t better your chances by annoying me.”

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” You slow your walk, reaching out to tap your hand on the spine of a book you’ve been eyeing for awhile. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“And what does my reputation say about me?”

“That you’re an asshole and a heartbreaker,” You turn and look back at him over your shoulder. “You’re not exactly selling me, here.”

Your eyes latch on something tucked under his arm. It’s the two books he saw you eyeing. His gaze catches yours and he gives you a cocky smirk.

You roll your eyes and turn back around. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Rafe Cameron.”

He trails after you the entire time you’re in the store, picking book after book off the shelf that he sees your eyes even linger on.

“What’s your plan here?” You ask, turning a book over in your hands and scanning the blurb on the back. “Buy the entire store? Woo me with your credit card? You’re not the only guy on the island with a piece of plastic.”

“Pretty sure I’m the guy with the most on his plastic, though.”

You sigh loudly through your nose. “I’m not interested in men who are only interested in me as an object. You want the trophy you get from ‘bagging the Pogue Princess.’ So fuck off.”

You’re so sick of this. Sick of every guy being the same— only being interested in you as an ego boost. No guy has ever been interested in you for you.

And they never will be, so long as you keep turning them down. Every man wants what he can’t have.

“You’re seriously not going to get anything?”

You pause in your storm off, turning around to look at Rafe. “What?”

His arms are laden with a thick stack of books, muscles flexed at the weight of the stack, straining at the sleeve of his t-shirt.

He gestures to the shelves around you. “You must have looked at the entire store. You’re really just going to leave?”

“I’m a Pogue, Rafe. You do the math.”

Your hands clench and unclench on the strap of your bag. You never thought you’d catch the attention of Rafe Cameron. If Sarah’s the Kook Princess, then he’s the Kook Prince. Dating him would give you some major points on the North Side of the Island.

…And ruin your relationship with 90% of the Pogue’s on The Cut.

Besides. Even if you did date him, he would stick around. No way in hell he would. And then you’d be back right where you started.

Your fumbling with your keys out in the small parking lot, groaning as your ancient beater car key once again refuses to turn in the lock when you hear footsteps behind you.

You rub a hand over your face and turn around.

“Can you please leave me alone? Seriously.”

He’s got that stupid smile on his face again and he’s holding something out to you.

A book. Just one.

You take it from his hands cautiously. “You had a whole stack. Why downgrade to just one?”

He clasps his hands behind his back. “Cause you looked at all those other ones once. You stopped at this one three times. Figured you might’ve wanted it.”

You chew your lip. “I’m still not going out with you.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d change your mind right now.”

He leans down, reaching forward, breath fanning your face. You screw your eyes shut, bracing.

A loud click behind you. He pulls away.

“But you will.”

With that, he turns, walking back into the store. At the doors, he flashes you one last smile.

You take one breath. Two.

You climb into your now unlocked car, tossing the book onto the passenger seat.

When you get home, you won’t be able to stop thinking about how in the moment, you kind of wanted him to kiss you.

—

He finds you at the Boneyard, because of course he does.

You’re sitting on one of the drift wood-slash-benches near the bonfire, pretending like you’re not shivering.

“You know, most people come to beach parties to let loose and have fun. That includes me. Having fun and letting loose does not include you.”

“Oh, come on. This is neutral territory, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What am I allowed to call you?”

“Nothing. Go find another girl to stroke your ego. Or your dick. I don’t care either way.”

He leans down into your space. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Fuck. Off.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I only came over to give you this.”

This time, instead of holding out a book (that you had, in fact, read in a matter of days. It was as good as you’d thought it’d be) he holds out a jacket. One of those expensive North Face fleeces.

You scrunch your nose. “And why are you giving me that?”

“You’re cold.”

“So?”

“So, I’m being a gentleman.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you knew what that word was.”

He drops the fleece on your head. “Take the fucking jacket.”

You slide it off your head, putting it on and glaring at him all the while.

“I’m only putting this on because I’m cold.”

“Sure you are.”

“This has nothing to do with you. I’m still not dating you.”

“Mhm.”

“I hate you.”

He cracks the same smile he gave you at the bookstore. “Sure.”

He takes a swig of his beer, walking backwards towards his group of friends. “You look good in my clothes, princess.”

You flip him two fingers, and he flips them straight back.

You’ll deny it later that you smiled after the interaction.

—

He shows up at your job. This time, Topper’s with him.

You close your eyes and count to ten, mentally picturing fleeing the country and never having to deal with men again before speaking.

“You know, there’s a term for you right now.”

He smiles that same stupid fucking smile, tapping his fingers on the table of the cafe you work at. He’s seated outside in your section. You highly doubt it’s by mistake.

“Determined? Persistent?”

“A repeat offender,” You say flatly. “Now will you please order and get the hell out here?”

To his credit, Topper looks vaguely uncomfortable with his own presence. Though that might be because you did turn him down particularly brutally. You wince internally. It wasn’t his fault, per se. It was just… not a good day.

Rafe is perfectly capable of handling your top-notch bitch-ery, and secretly, you enjoy the chance to be as openly angry as you want to be.

Rafe pretends to read over the menu. You know he’s only pretending because you watched him read it for five straight minutes when they first arrived. He probably has it memorized.

“I’d like a blueberry muffin,” He says, still smiling. “Just one.”

You scribble it down on your order sheet, then turn to Topper. “And you?”

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “Just a water, please.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Seriously? You came all the way to my job to harass me and that’s what you order? One muffin and a water?”

You write the water down anyway, clicking your tongue. “And the asshole-ery continues.”

“And what would you have us order, then?” Rafe asks, eyeing you from his position at the table.

It’s scary how well he commands a space just by being— he’s Rafe Cameron and he knows it. He exudes power and control.

He’s the exact kind of man you turn down hard. No chance of anything.

“Something actually worth bothering me for,” You slip the notepad into your apron pocket and spin on your heel, “I have other orders and tables to wait. Don’t expect to get your muffin and water soon.”

As you wait and bus the tables that need to be dealt with before your orders are ready, you begin to wonder if you’re going too far.

This isn’t just any Kook. This is Rafe. He could completely and utterly destroy your life if he wanted to.

Maybe you’re better off agreeing to go out with him. Just to be safe. Women don’t turn a man like that down.

Finally, you get their orders out to them, setting them on the table a little less harsh than you were originally planning.

“There,” Can’t quite stop your mouth, though. “Do you want the check now?”

Rafe picks up his muffin, shrugging. “Sure.”

You slide them the bill— you had it ready the second you got the chance. You’d rather not have them here any longer than you have to.

It was hard enough to get a job outside The Cut. You don’t need to give your boss any more reason to fire you.

Rafe tosses a few bills onto the bill and you take it, counting the money.

“You overpaid.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Your total was nine dollars and twenty six cents. You just handed me two hundred dollar bills.”

He tilts his head at you like he’s confused. “I thought you were supposed to tip waiters and shit.”

You blink at the bills. “Yeah like, five dollars. Not two hundred. I don’t even think we accept hundred dollar bills.”

“Tell your manager I’m the one who paid. Can’t take issue with a Cameron.”

“You’re the worst,” You tell him, but take the money back to your manager. He isn’t happy, but like Rafe said— can’t take issue with a Cameron. He gives you the change you need and bores holes into your back with how hard he’s staring as you walk the money back.

“Here.” You thrust your arm out, handing him the change.

Rafe crosses his arms. “I said that was your tip.”

“I can’t accept this. I don’t accept pity money.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not pity money.”

“Then what kind of money is it? Cause it sure feels like pity money. Oh wait, is this you-owe-me-now money?”

He groans. “Can’t you just take the fucking money?”

“Not if there’s a consequence.”

If Topper looked uncomfortable before, he looks almost nauseous now. You kind of feel bad for him.

Rafe scrubs a hand down his face. “Will you just take it? No consequence.”

“Why?”

Topper chokes on his water.

“Why?” Rafe asks, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Because it’s what I do. You’re the Pogue Princess, yeah? I’m giving you the princess treatment.”

“But why? What do you gain from this?”

“I’m just gonna go wait at the car,” Topper says, getting up so quickly he bumps the table.

Rafe’s eyes never leave you, the money still clutched in your hand. “You know what I get out of this? The prettiest girl on the island in my clothes. The prettiest girl on the island spending my money.”

The bills start to crinkle in your grip. “I’m a Pogue. You don’t date Pogue’s.”

He stands, pushing back his chair in a much more controlled manner than you were expecting, given the look on his face. “Have you ever considered that you’re the exception?”

“No, because I’m not. The only part of me that’s an exception is the challenge. That’s all you want.”

Something flashes in his eyes. His gaze is dark where it scans your features, something calculating in his eyes.

“Some guy fucked you over, huh?”

Your near full body flinch is a dead giveaway. “Fuck you, Rafe. You’re an asshole.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. But I’m gonna keep showing you what this,”

He gestures to the both of you. “Could be like. I’m not that kind of asshole. Not to girls who look like you.”

He stands, taking all the change out of your hand except the $100 bill.

“Hold onto that for me,” He says, voice husky as it brushes your ear.

His hand comes up for one second, two, and then he lowers it. Like he’d had to restrain himself ok touching you.

An involuntary shiver runs down your spine. He smirks at the reaction.

And then, he’s gone. Now you’re just some waiter standing at a table with a $100 clutched in your hand.

You shake yourself out of your stupor, getting busy bussing the table. You notice something fluttering under his plate.

An old receipt with a number scribbled on it.

And a $20 bill.

“Son of a—“

—

You’re having a really bad day. One of those thirty-million-minor-inconveniences-in-a-row days. With one last fuck you from the universe on top.

You couldn’t get your hair right no matter how many times you tried, your makeup is rushed and bad because you spent too much time on your hair, once again one of your neighbors pulled out of their driveway without looking and almost killed you, a guy tried feel you up during your shift and your manager told you it was your fault for wearing revealing clothing (you were literally wearing your uniform) and then top it all off, your car won’t start. It won’t even try.

You slam your head against the steering wheel. Your boss made you stay late because of the incident so it’s getting dark now. You’re not walking all the way back to The Cut. But you don’t know how you’re getting home. It’s not like you can just call a mechanic. None of your pogue friends have cars and only person who does you’d… rather not call right now.

So that just leaves one option.

A really, really, terrible option.

A horrific one.

You curse as you rifle through your purse, pulling out the old receipt. Your phone’s almost dead, so you have to make this count.

You dial the number, pulling your knees to your chest and sinking low in your seat.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rafe.”

“I was wondering when you’d call me.”

“I’m sure you were,” You say flatly. “Listen I… I need a favor.”

“Spill.”

“I’m at work. My car won’t start. I just—“ You break off, frustrated tears welling in your eyes. “Can you please come pick me up?”

“I’m on my way. Sit tight.”

He hangs up the phone and you sigh, scrubbing your face and willing the tears to just go away. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, probably smearing your makeup past the point of return, but you can’t find it with in yourself to care.

You sit there for what feels like minutes, hands pressed to your face trying desperately to stop the tears that keep flowing when you hear a car pull up next to you.

You sit up, hands lowered, eyeing the sleek Range Rover that just pulled up next to you.

You manage to climb out of your car, hugging your waist in an act of self-soothing and a sad attempt at getting warm. It gets cold in Kildare at night.

Rafe rounds the front of his car, expression pinched.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, really, just…” You trail off, gesturing vaguely to your car. You sniff hard, rubbing the back of your hand across your face. “It’s just been a long day.”

He looks over your shoulder, assessing your car before looking back to you. “Get whatever you need from your car.”

You rush to gather the items from your car, piling them in the backseat at Rafe’s direction. You turn, facing him when something is thrown at your face.

It’s disturbing that you recognize it by deja vu alone.

“Rafe—“ You say, taking the jacket in your hands.

“You’re cold. Put it on.”

“But—“

“Listen, princess, I’m perfectly satisfied waiting here all night until you put that on.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the car.

You squeeze the jacket in your hand. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That.”

“Mmm,” He hums. “That’s a tough one. Probably cause you look pathetic when you shiver.”

“I do not.”

“You totally do. You get all hunched. Like an old lady.”

“Is this your idea of flirting?”

He smiles. “Put the jacket on.”

You do. It’s just as warm as last time.

He nods his head towards the car and you climb into the passenger seat, clicking your seatbelt.

He climbs in after you, putting his seatbelt on and pulling the car out of the parking lot. After a moment, he reaches across the console, turning on your seat warmer and cranking the heat up.

“Thank you,” You say after a moment.

“I told you I’d show you what life would be like if you were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” He says, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Mine.”

“So you’d have me, what? Caged? Chained to you.”

“Spoiled, is the word I’d used.”

“I’m not an object, Rafe. I’m not going to be some kind of kept woman.”

He snorts. “Who said anything about that?”

“That’s what you want, is it not? Want me to have no personality, no nothing. You want me to hang off your arm and laugh at everything you say—“

“Fuck no,” He says so vehemently you pause. “You’re so fucking mouthy. And stubborn. If I wanted some brainless fangirl, I’d go find one. I wouldn’t pick her up from her job and drive her home. Probably wouldn’t give her my fucking jacket.”

You look up at him. “You wouldn’t?”

He shrugs. “None of those girls tell me to fuck off.”

“So it is the challenge. That’s all.”

“That’s not all. You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Come on. No guy has ever given you his jacket? You seriously want me to believe you look like that no one’s ever spoiled you?”

“No,” You say curtly, “You want me to believe that every guy just enjoys spending a bunch of money on a girl?”

“Not a girl. Their girl. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Cause it’s not your job to get it. It’s your job to be spoiled. Now where the hell am I going?”

You give him a vague address— just the street name and how to get there. You’re not stupid enough to give him your house address.

You don’t talk for the duration of the drive, you begin to shrug out of his jacket when a hand on your thigh stops you.

“Keep it. You can give it back to me the next time you see me.”

“There’ll be a next time?”

“If I have anything to say about it.”

You slowly put the jacket back on, then hastily climb out of his car, barely remembering to grab your stuff from the back.

You pause by the window. He rolls it down.

“Um. Thank you. Again.”

His lips twitch. “Don’t mention it.”

—

You don’t see him for a full two weeks after that.

After the first week, you figure he’s busy.

After the second week, you assume you scared him off.

You’re out on your old, busted kayak on the water, enjoying the early evening sun.

“Afternoon, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,”

You look over, eyeing Rafe and Sarah on one of the Cameron’s smaller boats. Sarah waves at you kindly. She’s always been fairly kind to you—

“Princesses have to stick together.” She’d said to you once, an easy smile on her lips, her face bathed in an orange glow in front of the bonfire.

A similar smile is on her face today. But the one on Rafe’s is nothing but mischief.

“Why don’t you come over here?” He calls.

You flip him a certain finger.

“Come on!” Sarah yells. “We’ve got beer!”

Well. Who are you to say no to free alcohol?

—

You should’ve said no to the free alcohol.

“You know what Rafe?” the words tumble out of your mouth, clumsy. “You’re really hot. It’s not fair. How am I supposed to hate you when you look so hot?”

You’re sitting on one of the benches on the boat, half leaning on the back of it and half leaning on Rafe.

You might have forgotten to take into account the fact that you’re a lightweight.

He raises an eyebrow. “How many beers did you have?”

“Don’t worry about that,” You slur, attempting to shush him but failing halfway through, your hand falling harmlessly into his lap. “I like beer. I like drinking. How come I don’t drink often?”

You pause, squinting at him. “How come you’re so hot?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “You’re drunk.”

“Who cares? I like being drunk. Drunk me is fun. Like that one song. Release your in-hi-bitions— feel the rain on your skin!”

He gives you a pained look. “Please don’t try to start dancing. You don’t have the coordination for it, and I’m not going into the water when you tip overboard.”

“Pshhh, yeah you would. You like taking care of me. Cause you’re weird.”

You turn to face the other side of the boat, where Sarah is watching you with an amused expression. “Sarah! Did I tell you that he drove aaaaaaaallllllllll the way to my job to pick me up cause my car wouldn’t start?”

She tilts her head, looking at Rafe. “You told Dad you were going to go pick up Topper and Kelce from a party so they didn’t drunk drive.”

You make a so-so motion with your hand. “That’s like. Basically the same thing.”

“It is not. You really are a lightweight, huh?”

You squint at Sarah. “Did John B. tell you that?”

She splutters. “No, I—“

You cross your arms, frowning. Then you turn to look up at Rafe again. “I should’ve called John B. to pick me up, cause he’s the only Pogue I know who’s got a car. But I didn’t. I called you.”

“Mm,” Rafe says, his jaw tensing and un-tensing. “And why is that.”

“Cause he’s being a dick. He’s all upset ‘cause I’m hanging out with you, keeps telling me I’m gonna get hurt again and blah blah blah, but then, it turns out he’s been dating Sarah for weeks and he didn’t tell me! It’s the same thing! And we’re not even dating.”

Rafe looks at Sarah. “You’re dating him? That’s who you broke up with Topper for?”

She glares right back at him. “There is literally a Pogue in this boat right now who is only here because you want to date her. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“She’s different.”

“How?”

“How?”

You and Sarah ask the same question at the same time. Rafe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She’s not just some random Pogue I picked up off the street.”

“I could have been.”

“You’re not helping.”

You frown, staring at your feet.

He gazes at you for a moment. “She’s just… different.”

You blink up at him through your lashes. “You should kiss me.”

“No.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because when sober-you remembers all of this, she’s already going to kill me.”

“Not to mention I would.” Sarah grumbles, taking a sip of her own beer. “Come on, Rafe. You should bring her home. It’s getting late anyway.”

“Mm,” He hums, glancing at you up and down. “You wanna go home?”

“No. There’s no beer and Rafe there. S’ boring.”

“I’m pretty sure sober-you likes it that way.”

“Then she’s boring,” You poke the muscle of his bicep. “Do you work out?”

“Yes.”

“Are you buff?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Could you carry me?”

“Probably.”

“Hmm,” You sink lower on the bench, kicking your feet. “Okay. We should go home before sober-me figures out what’s going on.”

Sarah brings the boat back to their little dock while Rafe makes various attempts to keep you awake during the journey.

You whine, batting his hands away as he pokes your face.

“We’re here, so you’re gonna have to get up.”

You groan. “You’re a big strong man. Carry me.”

You hear a huff, a sigh, and then arms come around your middle and you let out a half-aborted scream as you’re hefted into the air, stomach landing on a muscled shoulder.

“I was joking,” You mumble, your arms dangling. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“I swear to fucking— here.”

He slides you off his shoulder and you wobble as you land, vision swimming.

“I think I’m a lightweight.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Why are you so mean?”

“I was told by a certain princess that it was my brand.”

“I wanna go home.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you going to walk then? Towards my car? So you can go home?”

You turn (slowly) and squint at his car in the distance. “That seems really far away.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t wanna walk that far.”

The muscles in his jaw jump. “Just this once, because I need to get you home, and you are drunk, I am going to offer you a piggy-back ride. Got it?”

“Hmm. Okay.”

He stoops a little so you can hop on, then hooks his arms under your legs with only a mild grunt, your arms crossing —not too tight— around his neck.

He makes his way across the deck and up the path, silently, your cheek pillowed on the side of his neck.

When he makes it to the car he opens the passenger side door and slides you into it, clicking your seat belt on when your fingers fumble with it.

He’s silent the entire drive, jaw clenched and hands white knuckled on the steering wheel.

The silence practically thrums with anger, the charged air prickling your skin.

“Are you mad at me?”

He works his jaw. “No.”

“It seems like you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Then how come you’re upset?”

He sighs out through his nose. He doesn’t respond right away. Waits until he pulls over at the front of your street, sets the car in park. His hands don’t leave the steering wheel.

“You’re… squishier than I thought.”

“You think I’m fat?”

“No- fuck. I’m saying you’ve got a convincing stone-cold-bitch act. Then you go and get drunk and turn into this. Makes me feel like a piece of shit.”

You cross your arms. “You don’t like it. Me.”

He finally looks over at you, his eyes hooded. “I never said that. It’s one thing for us to have this back and forth assholery, as you put it. But now I know this is also who I’m being a dick to.”

You look down at your lap. “You know, I wasn’t always a stone-cold bitch.”

He cuts you a look. “Stop talk—“

“No, you shut up, I’m not that drunk anymore,”

You’re totally lying, which he knows, but he lets you talk.

“There was… this guy. I really liked him. He really liked me. Well, I thought he did. He was a Kook, too. Everyone warned me against getting with him, but I thought what we had was real,” You clench your hands on your thighs. “It wasn’t. Turns out his friends had dared him to sleep with ‘the prettiest Pogue he could stomach.’ That’s all I was. The only Pogue he could stand to fake it with. He told me the morning after. We broke up.”

“Who—“

“It doesn’t matter. I’m telling you this so you understand that I am a frigid bitch, but I’m also… this. So you better not fuck this up.”

He chuckles. “What do you want me to do, then?”

You shrug. “Prove me wrong. And I’m not made of glass. You just gotta… take it.”

Rafe raises a single eyebrow. “Take it?”

“Look, I already told you I think you’re hot. You’ve got a brain. Put the pieces together.”

He rubs a hand across his jaw. “And if I go too far?”

“I’m not that fragile.”

He crosses his arms, biceps flexing. “You sure about this?”

“Right now? Yes.”

He hums. “I should say no. You’re drunk. You’re not in the right mind to make these kinds of decisions.”

“But?”

“I’d rather test this and see,” He leans down, across the middle console, eyes hooded and hungry as he stares down at you. “You’re on, pretty girl."

—

When you wake (in your own bed, shockingly) it’s to the sound of a chainsaw right next to your ear.

Oh. It’s actually just your phone buzzing.

You hit the accept button and roll over onto it instead of doing all the effort of lifting it onto your face.

“H’llo?”

“Morning, princess.”

You groan. “Why the fuck are you calling me?”

“You don’t remember last night?”

“You’re on, pretty girl.”

You groan again, this one long and drawn out. “Why did you let me drink? You should’ve thrown me off the side of the boat after the first beer.”

You’re utterly mortified at how you acted. There’s a reason you don’t really get drunk anymore.

“And get rid of my free show like that? Please.”

You huff, head pounding at the effort of remembering the night before and speaking. “Why’re you calling me?”

“Had to make sure all that drinking didn’t kill you. We’ve got plans tonight.”

You sit up a little in bed. “No we don’t. I have work tonight.”

“That’s your only dispute?”

“I figured I didn’t have to state the obvious ones.”

“Come on. It’s just a little party—“

“I don’t do parties, Rafe.”

“I recall seeing you at the boneyard more than a couple times.”

“Bonfires on the beach don’t count as parties.”

“So you’d come if it was on the beach?”

“No, I—“ You tap the speaker button, dropping the phone into your lap. “What’s the point of this party, exactly? You want to be seen in public with me? Want everyone to know I’m off limits?”

“Yes,” He says it so easily, though his voice a little rough, a little gravelly, “But you also need to lighten up. I’ll pick you up from work. Bring clothes to change into.”

You open your mouth to respond but the hang up tone beeps steadily in your ear.

Of course you had to go blab your tragic backstory to Rafe fucking Cameron.

—

Work is long as usual, and you’ve contemplated quitting several times by the time you’re changing into your ‘party’ clothes in the bathroom, ignoring the fact that Rafe has definitely been parked and waiting for half an hour.

Your boss kept you late. Again.

You rush out to his car, cursing. He’s leaned up against the passenger side door, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone. He looks up when you approach, the corners of his lips twitching.

He pushes off the car, opening the passenger side door and nodding towards it.

“You look good.”

You pause, shouldering your work bag. “That’s it? I keep you waiting for thirty minutes and that’s all you say?”

“Did you want me to get upset?”

“Well, no, but—“

He shrugs. “Don’t care. Get in the car.”

He closes the door after you then climbs in himself, cranking up the heat and driving towards the boneyard.

You notice his eyes flicking down to your thighs every now and then. When picking an outfit for the party/bonfire/whatever, you’d decided to go simple. Having Rafe follow you around would be attention enough.

Still, the jeans you’re wearing are tight. A bit more form-fitting than your usual attire.

He seems to notice.

You shift in your seat, a little self conscious under the heat of his gaze crossing your legs and angling them towards the car door.

He sighs. “Mm-mm. None of that.”

He reached a hand across the console, deft, strong fingers effortlessly hooking and curling over your knee and dragging your legs back over and closer to him. Once he resituates you, his hand travels a little higher, squeezing and rolling the plush flesh there in his hand.

Your breath hitches. “What are you doing?”

“Taking.”

You swallow heavily, nearly choking on the lump in your throat. “You better not act like this at the boneyard.”

“And what if I do?“

“I’ll leave.”

He snorts. “I’m your ride. You gonna walk home? In the cold?”

“It’s not cold out.”

“It is to you. You’re always shivering. You better have brought the jacket.”

He doesn’t have to say which jacket for you to know which one he’s referring to.

You cross your arms, firmly ignoring the hand still intermittently squeezing your thigh. “I did. But i’m serious, Rafe. You have to back off when we get there.”

“Mm,” He hums. “Then at least let me have a little now.”

There’s something in the way he says it. The timber of his voice, the low, almost croon to his tone. He says it like you’re in control. Like you have power over him.

Even just the idea of it is exhilarating.

You push your thigh up into his hand, just a little bit.

“Only cause you’ll be insufferable if I don’t.”

He curls his hand under your thigh, palm pressed to the side and fingers pressing into the muscle through your tight jeans.

“Thanks, baby.”

“I’m not your baby.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You pull up to the beach, party already well under way.

People cheer as Rafe climbs out of the car, but he ignores them in favor of walking over to your side of the car and offering you a hand, which you swat away.

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re really hard to be polite to?”

“You’re just—“

“For the love of god, don’t start with that shit. Get over here.”

He snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you to his side. He starts towards the beach and you squirm, not wanting to be seen tucked under his arm.

This is the exact scenario you’d wanted to avoid with this whole thing. Showing up with Rafe Cameron —literally climbing out of his car— and having his arm around you is the perfect way to be ostracized by almost ninety percent of your circle.

“Will you chill the fuck out?” Rafe says, slowing to a stop a little ways away from the party, turning you to face him. “We’re just going to a party.”

You attempt to shrug his arm off your shoulder, but it holds fast. “You don’t get it. You have money, so you don’t need a community to fall back on. We’re poor. All we have is each other. So if I walk over there with you, i’ll lose it. I’ll be a traitor.”

His expression twists. “You’re blowing this so far out of proportion it’s not even funny.”

Anger begins stirring in your chest. “Rafe—“

“Who cares? No seriously, who the fuck cares? Everyone on this island is a piece of shit in their own ways. No one gives a shit if I got you under my arm. No one’s watching you. You’re not a fucking celebrity. You’ve got a reputation for turning down guys, you’re not fuckin’ Taylor Swift.”

The anger fades and your skin prickles in its absence. “I don’t think that I’m famous or anything.”

Rafe’s features smooth into something a little calmer. “I know, I know. Is this cause John B’s being a dick?”

“He has a point—“

“No he doesn’t,” Rafe snorts, “He’s dating my sister. He doesn’t get to say anything.”

You sigh. “They’re just worried about me making the same mistakes again.”

His arm leaves your side and you resist the shiver that threatens to overtake you at the sudden loss of the warmth and stability you hadn’t realized you’d been reliant on during the length of the conversation.

Rafe slides a gold ring off his pointer finger— the gold ring. The Cameron signet ring. The ring he never takes off.

He takes your hand, turning it palm side up, and drops the ring in it.

“There. My dad would probably murder me if anything happened to that ring. If I become a real and serious dick to you, chuck it in the fucking ocean.”

You stare down at it. “This is real gold. It’s a family heirloom. You can’t just give it to me.”

“I’m not,” He says easily, “This is a loan. When you decide that I’m not gonna fuck you over, you can give it back.”

You close your fingers around the ring, still warm from his finger. You tilt your back, looking up at him through your lashes. A small smile starts to spread across your face.

“I’ve really got you wrapped around my finger, huh?”

He huffs a laugh, tucking you under his arm again and walking you towards the party. “Took you long enough.”

The party honestly is fun after that. You drink (not much, Rafe carefully watches your alcohol intake and makes sure you toe the line of tipsy, but don’t fall over into drunk territory. He spends the night nursing one beer, claiming designated driver whenever someone gives him shit for it.

“Never stopped you in the past.”

“Didn’t have precious cargo before.”

He stays true to your earlier agreement and remains fairly hands off, but follows you around the party like some sort of guard dog, lingering just over your shoulder and successfully scaring off every guy who even looks in your direction.

Some of the pogues do give you the occasional glare or judgmental look or two, but Rafe was right. No one cares.

It’s… nice. For once you’re not hoping no guy approaches you or praying a Kook doesn’t start some shit with you. With Rafe trailing behind you, one hand in his pocket and jaw set, you truly are free to just enjoy the party, for the first time in your life. No one’s trying to hit on you, no one’s trying to making a spectacle of trying to convince you to date them, no one is making snide comments.

It’s weird, because you’re accustomed to a certain kind and amount of anxiety that comes with going to a mixed party, but everytime you start wondering how things are going to go wrong, Rafe is there with an arm around your waist or some stupid comment or other about somebody at the party whispered in your ear.

You manage quite a bit more socializing at the party than you usually do. Unfortunately, between this and the alcohol, you tire pretty quick.

You trip over your third stick when Rafe settles a hand on your hip with an “Think it’s time you went to bed.”

You groan. “But I’m actually having a good time for once.”

He steers you in the direction of the car. “Well, you’re in luck, cause if you think you’re going to parties alone from now on, you got another thing coming.”

Rafe at your side —a seemingly permanent arrangement now— you stumble your way towards the car.

“Isn’t that boring for you?”

“If it was, I’d say something. Besides. There’ll be different parties. Stop worrying so much about shit.”

His words seem harsh, but his tone is nothing other than low and fond.

“I’m cold.”

“I told you to grab the jacket—“

“I did bring it—“

“Then why aren’t you wearing it?”

“It didn’t match the outfit!”

“Are you being serious right now?”

"Is it a crime to want to look good at a party--"

He chuckles, fingers flexing on your hip as he tugs you closer to him. "You're so stupid."

"Rude."

"Not rude if it's true."

You elbow his side, but he just laughs louder.

Unsurprisingly, he warms the car for you when you get in.

—

Storms are a common thing in Outerbanks. Everyone's used to them. Monsoons, thunder storms, even the occasional hurricane. So you're not surprised to get the warning, not surprised when it hits.

You are a little surprised to wake up pelted with rain, a tree branch in your room, and part of the roof missing.

"Shit," You gasp, pushing the fallen debris off your body and rolling out of your bed to assess the damage.

It's bad. The branch is big and long, probably from that stupid tree your neighbors refused to cut down that you said was going to be a storm hazard. They'd refused, and now there's a huge tree branch that's caved in your roof and part of the wall that separates your bedroom from the living room.

No one is home but you. No one ever is, but right now it causes tears to rise to your eyes, because there's a branch in your room, and the roof is in pieces, and now that you've stopped moving, your legs and arms and torso actually hurt quite a bit, and something warm and wet is running down your temple and when you touch your fingers to it, they come away wet and scarlet.

You're out of your depth and you're scared. You can't stay here, obviously, but you don't know what to do. No one else is home. You don't even know who to call. JJ is out, because who knows if his dad is home and he doesn't even have a phone right now, Kie's out too because her parents didn't like that you were a Pogue with a reputation, you and Pope aren't that close, and John B is... John B. He has a car, at least, and you grew up together, so he'd probably overlook everything between the both of you if you're in danger.

You snatch you waterlogged phone off your dresser, shaky fingers scrolling through your contacts, thumb hovering over John B's.

You should call him. You've been neglecting your friendship with the group recently, working around the clock and Rafe whisking you away. Everyone's busy in their own way, what with the treasure and everything, so this could be a moment to reunite, bond over how shitty the storms make life on the Cut.

There's one other person you could call.

You shouldn't. Should stick to the friends you know, call John B.

But if you called Rafe, he'd come. He'd come get you, and probably take you back to his house and you wouldn't have to worry about anything, because for some reason, he's serious about doing that.

You could call him. He probably wants you to.

You press call before you can talk yourself out of it.

"Do you know what time it is--"

"A tree branch fell on my roof and now I don't have part of my roof and I'm really cold and wet and please come get me."

"Jesus— okay, yeah, yeah I'm coming. Shit, okay. Are you hurt?"

"My head is bleeding and I'm battered all over, but I don't think I need to go to he hospital."

"You're bleeding from your head and you don't think you need to go to the hospital?"

You can hear the sound of a car door slamming and an engine turning over.

"I don't want to go because then I'll be stuck in these clothes and they'll poke and prod at me and it'll take ages and—"

"Alright, alright. Calm down. How bad is the damage to the house. Look around for me."

"Um," You turn in place, scrutinizing the disaster and chaos around you. "I think most of the roof is intact, just the portion that covers my bedroom and some of the living room are uncovered. The branch took out most of the wall that seperates my room from the living room."

"Fuck. Okay, what about the rest of the house?"

"Um, I don't think I can get to it. The tree branch and other house... pieces are blocking my door."

"Can you get out? At all?"

"Yeah, I think through my window."

"Don't move. Take what you need from your room. I'll be there soon."

“Please don’t hang up.”

The line goes silent and you think he has hung up, that you didn’t say it fast enough or he just didn’t care, but then he speaks.

“Would you rather I sneak you in my house or walk in through the front door?”

“…What are the pros and cons?”

“Well, getting in the front door is easiest, but then you risk seeing my parents and my Dad won’t have questions, but Rose will, and I never want to answer her questions anyway.”

“She can’t be that bad.”

“She is. Sneaking you in is harder, but then we avoid conversations, but if we get caught, conversations will probably be worse. Might become a whole lecture.”

“They’d lecture you for taking in a girl who needs help?”

“Rose would.”

He keeps talking the entire way to your house, his voice speaking in low tones as you gather up the things you need to spend an indefinite amount of time away from home.

He eventually does hang up when he arrives, so you turn your attention to prying your window open and climbing out of it.

You can barely get it wedged open enough to fit through, so you toss your bag through first and shout a quick “over here!” before beginning to crawl through.

You hear footsteps slow to a stop in front of you. “You know, usually when this scenario happens, you’re facing the other way around.”

You swat at his leg. “You’re disgusting. And I’m not stuck. You just arrived at an in-opportune moment.”

He curls a hand under the window and pulls up, making the gap wider. At the sudden release of tension you yelp, tumbling out of the window.

“You’re such a mess.”

“You didn’t warn me!”

He helps you to your feet and leads you to his car, the hand on your waist keeping you distracted from the wreckage behind you.

—

You do decide in the end to just walk in the front door, because you’re cold and wet and tired.

Ward does wake up and meets you at the staircase (you’re pretending not to notice the sheer opulence of the house) looking rumpled and confused.

“Who’s this?” The man asks, gesturing your rather pathetic looking form.

“My girlfriend,” Rafe says smoothly, “Branch fell on her roof. Place is a mess.”

You wave hello. “Sorry for waking you, Mr. Cameron.”

His gaze flicks to you for a second, then back to Rafe.

“Girlfriend?” His tone sounds… off. “How long has this been a thing?”

Rafe shifts, squaring his shoulders and stepping a little more in front of you. “A little while.”

Ward hums again, eyes flitting to you, taking in your appearance.

“Make sure you get the first aid kit. That head wounds looks nasty.”

Rafe nods. “We got it. Thanks, Dad.”

Ward just dips his head once, then steps back into the bedroom.

You let out a long sigh, pressing a hand to your chest.

“I thought he was going to throw me out.”

“He wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let him, anyway.”

You snort. “Yes, yes, you’re a big strong man. Can we attend to my wounds now? And get some dry clothes?”

Cleaning your wound doesn’t take long, mostly because your head is the only one that really needs cleaning. The rest is taken care of in the shower. The most luxurious and amazing shower of your life. Seriously. You didn’t even know showers could be this relaxing.

The warm water soothes your aching muscles, and Rafe has weirdly good taste in bodywash.

He’d left you a change of clothes and a spare towel even though you said you brought your own.

You change into his anyway.

They’re more comfortable. Better quality than your ratty pajamas.

Your underwear is a different matter. Your dresser is old and broken —as most things in your house are— and the drawer you picked to store your underwear in doesn’t close all the way. This normally isn’t an issue, but when your roof is suddenly no longer attached, it means the a good portion of your underwear got soaked and muddy.

Except the ones at the bottom of the drawer. So the only underwear you had to bring to Rafe’s that was clean and dry is the tiny, lacy stuff you bought from Victoria’s secret and only wear when you’ve taken an everything shower and need a little pick-me-up. When you want to feel like a hot piece of ass. Girl things.

So you look at yourself in the mirror, clad in your own tank top (it’s actually warm enough in his house to wear a tank top to bed) and a pair of his pajama pants, the draw-string pulled tight, the fabric sagging low on your hips, showing off a thin little strip of lace.

Your face flushes. You look like his girlfriend. Dressed in his clothes, lacy underwear peaking through, skin freshly washed and smelling of his body wash.

When you step out of his bathroom, old clothes clutched in your hand, he stills.

He sits back on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his elbows as you slowly saunter over, steps quiet.

His eyes flick down to the lace, pauses on the sight, then back up to your face.

The air is charged, thick with tension.

You pull away from it, tossing your clothes in your backpack and ignoring the heat of his gaze on your back.

“Come over here.”

You straighten, hands behind your back as you walk to him.

“Closer.”

You step forward, now standing between his legs.

His hands come up to the back of your thighs, tightening, before moving to your hips. His thumbs ghost over the edge of the lace, and he rumbles something deep in the back of his throat.

“I like these.”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.”

He presses his face forward, pushing your tank top up with his nose pressing his lips to the now exposed skin of your stomach.

You gasp, then feel him smile against you. He tugs you closer, face pressed to you and hands gripping your sides, just above the edge of your ribcage.

Tentatively, you reach a hand down, sliding from the top his head, down the side of his face, then slowing to a stop at his jaw, pushing your palm up. His head lifts, his eyes a little glassy, chin resting on your stomach.

“You introduced me as your girlfriend.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you are.”

“I am?”

You stroke a thumb over his face, sweeping over his cheekbone and under his eye. He leans into the touch, pliant.

“You think I let just any girl in here? You think I give any girl my clothes?”

“Yes?”

“Come on, baby. We’ve been over this.”

He presses another kiss to your stomach, mouth hot and lips firm.

He lifts his head up again. “You can make me yours anytime you want. Just say the word.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper, words barely even a breath.

“Mm,” He hums, hands running up and down your sides. “You think too much.”

You pause for a few moments, taking everything in.

You grab his hand, leave it palm side up in front of you, then reach into your pocket and drop something into it.

The ring. His ring.

He stares at it for a beat, then closes his hand around it, slipping it back onto his finger.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He grins.

Your drop your hands around his neck and he moves his hands to the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his middle.

He doesn’t waste any time kissing you. It’s hot and full at first, a roaring flame licking in both your chests, like he’s been holding himself back all this time and finally let it all out. He pushes up into you, and the kiss deepens before it mellows out, slowing down to a few cracking embers.

He pulls back, your noses brushing. “Been wanting to do that since the fucking bookstore.”

“That long?”

“Mhm. You were wearing those cute little pants and you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Wanted to have you right there.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Mm. Only when it comes to you.”

You fall into each other again, and again, and again.

“Baby.”

“Hm?”

“I really like you in lace.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

[myhouse-pk3]

why do ppl who draw genderbends barely ever draw female counterparts with a similar body physique to their original male designs and prefer to make them skinnier and less muscular. Just a thought. Maybe its just me. smile

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

((The whole high five thing between my fave 7 couple is absolutely positively 100% Kariom with whomever he dates---or is even just friends with. It fits him and the Traveler especially.))

[aphel1on]

the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.

the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)

both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!

and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.

that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".

and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.

this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.

a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.

it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.

there's several things to note here:

thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder

eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble

they're not actually eating anything.

those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.

it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.

but even that last happened a long, long time ago.

this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.

paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.

he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.

isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.

thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.

when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.

i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.

therefore casually forgetting the creepy eodio doll isn't real.

thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.

yet still...

he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.

this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.

all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.

[the-gayest-show]

it is Tutorial Time! (computer edition, i use tumblr mobile i don’t think it works like that on there but i could be wrong)

featuring my shitty formatting hopefully u can understand

Step one: go to the post, click them 3 dots i circled in that corner

step 2: once you click there should be a drop down. from there you click “report [username]” (step not pictured)

step 3: it is redirecting time! new tab opens and you have a  drop down and on that you click the third button down, called “report something else”. then click continue!

step 4: pick an option (in your case the crudely circled copyright violation bc i think it’s that)

step 5: get to this fancy dmca page and click the “file a dmca request”!

step 6: fill out the form idk what else to tell you and submit it i guess ive never done this before. 

good luck soldier, getting ur work stolen is not fun, hopefully this helps!! @hg-aneh

I was looking through this blog because they'd stolen someone's art, and I wanted to check if they'd taken anything else, and found one of your comics

https://www.tumblr.com/romancesar/724074649051348992?source=share < plain link to the post with your art

Ah, thank you so much for telling me!

I don't know what to do in these situations when it comes to Tumblr, though, so I appreciate any help anyone can provide ;;;

[mirroredmemoriez]

A collection of Amanda Young’s outfits (PT 1)

As the title states, this is just all the outfits I can source from Amanda Young from the franchise but also any game adaptation too. This will be broken into parts because of the image limit.

1.) The Reverse Bear Trap (RBT) outfit

One of her most iconic and recognisable fits. She has a purple tank top with matching sleeves to go alongside, presumably kept in place by the pink bands on her upper arms? Amanda in this wears a black skirt with ripped fish nets and kinda shiny boots- Other things include the eye makeup, nail polish and the only time we ever see her have the clawing panther tattoo on her shoulder.

2.) Rockstar outfit

I've generalised this as the ROCKSTAR outfit- Because this specific shirt comes up a few times, not just in that cut scene. It seems there is actually two shirts? The blue graphic one on top and a grey one underneath. Amanda's hair and jackets change! There is the light grey jacket and then the black one and even things like how heavy her makeup is are different... The main place we see this look is when she is setting up Adam for his game. Of course she has boots on as always and I guess I'd call the jeans she has on cuffed? One extra is she has a watch on.

3.) Junkie outfit

BECAUSE I WAS A FUCKING JUNKIE!!! Anyway, with this I had to brighten the image to see what the design on the tank top was... From there I went, ''I think I've seen this before...'' And yeah, I had- Shawnee Smith has worn this logo a few times, so that's why I've added the last two images for a clearer reference. Amanda here looks quite gaunt and sickly and we can't see the rest of this outfit such as trousers.

4.) Visitor outfit

I'll dub this the Visitor outfit because of the badge of course- I would say this likely is Amanda's most simple outfit? Black shirt and skirt. The most striking thing about this look is the RBT scars she has... It's also one of the only times outside of Saw 3 we see Amanda with a ponytail! I can't lie when looking at her hair here, it almost looks two toned in places such as the side burns? Almost grey in parts? (Edit: This may be a dress actually.)

5.) The Red Pig outfit

This is my personal favourite when it comes to her in movie pig looks. She has a red coat/cloak which the length goes all the way down to her boots- Looking there I think the lower half from seeing the cuffed like jeans is probably the exact same as her Rockstar outfit. Her eye makeup is heavily smudged and the mask itself in my opinion is one of the best shaped pig masks, with what seems to be ''blood'' coming out of the eye sockets and black slash brunette hair.

6.) Bow Dress/Clinic outfit

This scene and the follow up is so depressing but she's so cutesy here- It's a simple black dress, but the bow is very Amanda. I have no clue whether the shoes she has on in the first image are actually apart of the outfit or just something Shawnee had on whilst testing it out. 7.) News Report/Scott Tibbs outfit

May be my overall favourite Amanda outfit.... She has on a grey hoodie jacket, possibly another article of clothing from her Rockstar outfit? Her iconic skull sweatpants with a belt and then boots that I would say are more akin to her RBT outfit. I can't really tell if the shirt she has got on is layers or just has different materials- Amanda's RBT scars are also very visible in this look.

8.) Suffocation outfit

At first I started doing these as two separate outfits? One for when she kills Adam, the other for when she wakes up from her nightmare- However, I'm pretty sure this is the same outfit through and through. Amanda has on a long sleeved orange shirt with a grey tanktop over it. The jacket is leather with noticeable silver studs and she has on cargo type trousers and as always... Boots.

9.) Nightmare outfit

Another personal favourite! Once again we get to see the skull pants and this is how I was able to gage the material a bit better. I honestly have no clue how to describe the specific items of clothing she has on her upper half? A corset type shirt going on? Details I enjoy are the safety pins around the shoulder and bottom half and she has a watch on.

10.) Saw X outfit

I decided to not have this pig look separate. Anyway! This is Amanda's most recent outfit with Saw X having come out in 2023.... Simple grey t-shirt alongside cargo trousers with a belt. The boots she's got on are very combat/work like and Amanda also has a black choker and earrings here- Her coat/cloak is black with red detailing such as the cuffs and the inner lining.

[roonotrue]

Twisted Wonderland - He Hears You Singing (About Him)

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Savanaclaw Edition, Octavinelle Edition

Prompt: While relaxing, and doing chores around the Ramshackle dorm for your weekend restoration of the barely standing building, your thoughts drift to love songs from your old world. You think of songs that remind you of your closest fellow NRC student and significant other, and end up singing one while you work.

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and they are referred to as 'MC/Prefect' in this one. And let's all just agree that MC is a great singer- cuz some of these songs have mad vocals that I would never dream of trying to sing myself with my incredibly average voice, and I imagine a lot of you are the same.

Included Characters: Heartslaybul Edition!

Warnings: None.

Request Rules & Information Here

~~~

Riddle Rosehearts - "Queen of Hearts" by We The Kings

- Doesn't mean to eavesdrop- truly he doesn't- but when he hears the opening lines of the song he can't help but pause, wondering if this is a song dedicated to the ACTUAL Queen of Hearts that he's just never heard before.

- He doesn't listen to popular music very often, he's more of a classical music while studying kind of person, but you have a rather impressive voice, and the song is honestly very... Sweet.

- He doesn't get some of the references in the verses, but the chorus is very charming, paired with your voice, and the bright smile on your face as you playfully sweep around the room (not very efficient for cleaning, but you are obviously having fun, so-).

- When you notice him, he turns a unique shade of red, stumbling out an apology for intruding, he just needs to talk to you about—what did he need to talk to you about again?

- He can't remember b-but he thought your singing was lovely! And you're clearly busy so you should get back to it! The cleaning part! N-not the singing! Unless you want to sing again!

- He would certainly love to hear you... If you are comfortable singing the song for him again that is?

"I've never heard that song before, but I liked it a lot... Would you mind singing it again? I'd love to hear yo- it again."

~~~

Trey Clover - "Coffee Cake" by Benson Boone

- He was only swinging by Ramshackle to drop off some spare baked goods that he just had extra of and totally didn't specifically make for you.

- Anyway-

- When he heard you singing he paused in his tracks, leaning against the doorway to listen to you singing with so much energy and a bright smile on your face.

- It's like you're having your own little concert while you dusted- occasionally using said feather duster as a makeshift microphone. It's adorable.

- He can't help but smile softly at the scene- he's unfamiliar with the song, and yet it fits your voice so well.

- A little startled when you notice him, but not at all ashamed- you were amazing, how could he not stop and stare? Now would you like to take a break with him and tell him all about that song and its meaning?

- He's already thinking of a dozen different coffee cake recipes now to share with you, the song stuck in his head, and he'll probably be humming it while he bakes for the next week, thinking about you the whole time.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed, I thought you sounded incredible. You should sing more often, perhaps while we bake some actual coffee cake together?"

~~~

Cater Diamond - "La Da Dee" by Cody Simpson

- He wasn't even planning to stop by Ramshackle today until Grim showed up at Heartslaybul complaining about you doing nothing 'fun' just 'boring chores' and while he had no intention of actually helping clean, he figured he'd at least grace you with his presence to liven things up and keep you company!

- It's totally not because this is the first opportunity he's had in weeks to spend some alone time with you- hahaha-

- The moment he hears you singing he whips out his phone at the speed of light, rushing to start recording the moment so he can hear your amazing voice singing the sweet, energetic love song over and over.

- When you spot him he is shameless about it, loudly brushing off any embarrassment on your part to immediately praise your voice and the song. Did you write that yourself? Oh, is it new? Who's it by? You have to send him a link! Oh, it's from your world? Oh, he's totes jealous! Your world has seriously great music!

- Will literally beg you to let him post that video of you singing, you were so amazing! Your pitch, tone, energy, all of it was perfect! You'd go Magicam famous!

- If you don't want it posted he'll pout and won't post it- but he certainly won't delete it either, after all, you might change your mind someday! (And he totally wants to go back and watch it on his own time but he's not admitting that.)

"You should totally join the Pop Music Club! You can tell us all about more music from your world- we can even try to play some covers of some of the songs! And you'd look amazing in a custom club outfit! Think of the Magicam posts, MC!"

~~~

Ace Trappola - "Wild Heart" by The Vamps

- Oh.

- Ohohohoho- You are never living this down.

- You can sing!? Not to mention that song! He's certain he's never heard it before but damn are you performing it well. He's got half a mind to pull a Cater move and record you for blackmail later- or just to have for himself.

- He tries to be sneaky- but at one point when you do a fun spin while belting the bridge- oh, he just can't help himself- grabbing you and spinning you in a circle with that mischievous, cocky smile of his and a loud teasing laugh.

- Huh, what are you embarrassed about? You sounded great! He had no idea you had such a great set of pipes on ya! You should sing for him again- that song was great too, were you thinkin' of him while singin' it? It sounds like a good description of him.

- He'll only lay off if you tell him he should help with the cleaning- to which he'll quickly lay off it in favor of dragging you off to help him with whatever trouble he came over in the first place to drag you into.

"Aww, come on, Prefect! Lemme hear you sing one more time! You sounded good, and that song was totally up my alley!"

~~~

Deuce Spade - "Last First Kiss" by One Direction

- Is entranced. Unlike the others who knew they were eavesdropping/knew it was a private moment, he doesn't really get the memo.

- He's too caught by surprise by your amazing voice and the song to realize he's staring in awe like a creep. It's rather romantic... And he can't help but fantasize for a moment that maybe- just maybe...

- And then you spot him. And he turns redder than Riddle when he's throwing a tantrum.

- He didn't mean to be weird or make you embarrassed he promises! He just thought you sounded really nice!!

- He will apologize sooo much until you assure him it's alright and to just not tease you. Tease you? How could he ever do that!? You were amazing! You sounded like a professional singer- at least to him, you did!

- You can go back to singing if you want- he'll even help you with your cleaning as an apology for barging in (totally not just an excuse to maybe hear you sing again while you work).

"I'm really sorry again! I just... Thought you sounded really nice is all... I'll help you with the chores to make up for it! But, feel free to go back to singing. I really liked that song..."

~~~

And that's all folks! My first-ever Twisted Wonderland fanfiction post! I hope I got the personalities right, please comment with your thoughts and opinions! Love ya, and see ya next post ~ Roo

[interstellarsystem]

You Could Be Median!

We've seen some posts lately where people are saying they feel too plural to be a singlet and too singlet to be plural, or that they feel certain plural-ish ways about their kintypes... And, well, we have news for you--there's (possibly) a word for that!

See, while a lot of people see "multiple system" and "plural system" as interchangable, they actually have nuance to their meanings. And there's a third term, "median system", that might actually apply to you!

Some descriptions of the terms, for reference!

This won't be the only term list in this post, but to avoid dumping a ton of terms at the start without context, they'll show up where relevant. For now, though, here's a few.

Singlet:

The state of being one singular person/identity in one body. Synonym for non-plural.

Plural:

More than one entity, self, identity or consciousness in a single body. Simply, being more-than-one in some way. This is more of an umbrella term for multiple and median.

Multiple:

Having more than one distinct identities or people within a body.

Median:

The state of being somewhere between "singlet" and "multiple" on the plural spectrum.

Now, that's pretty vague, especially if this is a new concept to you! What does "inbetween" of multiple and singlet even really look like? The answer is, well... Anything, almost! But that's also vague and unhelpful. So...

Some examples of what being a median system could feel like...

You're like a metaphorical hydra--all part of one dragon, but there's different heads. You might feel parts of yourself arguing or thinking different thoughts, and some might be more in charge at times than others, but in the end, you're all a part of one unit anyway.

You're like a metaphorical coin--you're all one single thing, but there's different faces. Depending on what angle someone looks at you from, they could see something completely different.

You're like a gemstone cut for a ring--all one stone, but there's facets of you that reflect light just a little differently.

You speak to your subconscious, but because that subconscious is you, you feel like you're an inbetween of being just one person and two people. (This can also include things like daemonism!)

You feel like your identity itself is a shapeshifter (not in a kintype way--your identity as a whole).

You're otherkin/fictionkin/etc, and your kintypes have juuuust a little too much separation from you to feel like they're still you, but they're you enough that they're not separate people. They're not entirely distinct from you, but they're also not entirely wholly you, either. (More on this one later!)

You feel too much like a singlet to be plural, but too much like a system to be a singlet.

You age or pet regress, and feel like your regressed self is a different version of you. Sure, they're still you! But they're just different enough that they fall in a grey area of being "you" vs "not you".

You feel like "you" are, in whole, a person wearing a lot of different masks. The masks might make you act a little different, or look a little to-the-left of your normal appearance. All the masks are a part of you, as much as you're a part of them.

You feel like you sometimes have a different "filter" put over you, like a photo being digitally edited. You're still the same base thing, but sometimes there's an extra layer on top that makes you a little different.

You don't feel singlet or multiple, but feel like a secret third thing that's in any way inbetween.

You feel like you're almost a system.

Now, that's nowhere near an exhaustive list, but it's a bunch of stuff we've experienced and/or heard from others in the community. That gemstone comparison is actually common enough for the median version of the term "headmate" to be a sort of reference to how it feels!

Headmate (also alter, system member):

An entity/person that is a part of a system.

Facet:

A type of headmate that is a part of a median system.

There's also a term for identities that blur the line between "fictive" and "fictionkin", because the experience of being median while having identities that feel like fictives and fictotypes simultaneously is so common! (There's now a factbased identity term for the experience too!)

Fableing:

A type of facet in a median system that shares experiences of both fictionkin and fictives, making them an inbetween, adjacent to both experiences, or both at the same time.

Factling:

A type of facet in a median system that shares experiences of both factkin and factives, making them an inbetween, adjacent to both experiences, or both at the same time.

Otherkinity and Median Systems

In particular though, we see a lot of otherkin who say a lot of very plural-y things about their kintypes. While not everyone who says these things is 100% plural and maybe just one or two of these points to nothing plurality related at all... These are things we think are pretty good indicators you should at least consider looking into median systems, even if you've looked into being multiple before.

Your kintypes can speak or communicate to you, disagree with you or each other, or interact with things separate from you. This doesn't need to include written or spoken language, either! Sometimes internal instincts clashing can feel a lot like median facets disagreeing.

Shifting causes you to experience memory loss, amnesia, or anything similar.

Shifting causes a complete gender change, even if previously and after the shift you disagree.

Shifting causes you to act "out of character" compared to your usual self.

Shifting causes a complete sexuality change, even if previously and after the shift you disagree.

Shifting causes you to want to change your name, even if previously and after the shift you disagree.

You don't feel like you're yourself while shifted.

You get thoughts that you don't feel belong to you, and feel like they belong more to your kintype.

You don't feel too much like you are your kintype, unless you're in a shift. (Also check out fictionflickering/otherflickering!)

Your kintypes do things that you're unaware of while you're shifted.

You commonly dissociate during or before shifting.

Your kintypes change your likes and dislikes (for example, while shifted you might hate apples while when not in a shift you love them).

You'd call your kintypes headmates or you feel like they'd be classified as headmates if you had DID/OSDD (spoiler alert, you don't need those to be a system!)

Your shifts cause a full or very strong personality change--especially if other people notice.

You feel disconnected from your body or lose control of your body while shifting.

You come out of a shift and are confused, distressed, or surprised at how you acted during it.

Like I said, not all of these point toward being median if there's just one or two--but, if you have the time to look into it, I'd recommend giving it some thought!

Misc FAQs

Do I have to call myself a median system if I fit a lot of/all of this?

Nope! Your identity is yours to label, and this post isn't meant to shove people into boxes. This is simply meant to inform people of what a median system is, and let people come to informed decisions themselves.

Can you be both multiple and median?

Absolutely! There's plenty of ways this can be a thing, too. Some examples:

Multiple system with median subsystems.

Median system with multiple subsystems.

A system that fluctuates between median and multiple.

A system with a bunch of headmates who are median or multiple (regardless of subsystems).

You could be both at once, which we've seen called "mediple"!

Can you have a CDD (like DID and OSDD) and be median?

Yep! It's commonly believed that most (not all!) OSDD systems often fall under the median umbrella, even! A system of any structure or origin can also have median members within it, regardless of other parts of how it functions.

Can you choose to be median?

As with plurality in general--yes, probably! We haven't seen any guides to specifically form a median system, but we're sure it's possible. Daemonism, for example, is usually counted as a nonplural experience by their community, as daemons are "you" in another font--for lack of better phrasing. But a lot of people do consider this to be a type of median plurality in their own experiences!

Is this an endo system thing?

No. Endogenic and traumagenic systems alike can both experience median plurality, and can also be disordered or nondisordered. The term didn't even originate in endogenic-specific spaces, nor did it originate recently either. "Midcontinuum" was presented as a term in around 1996-1997, and "median" was created in 2002. Some early plural communtiy mentions of the terms:

Us and Being Median:

This was co-written by a median subsystem (Dagger of Decay) and one of said subsystem’s QPPs in-system (Shrapnel). While we don’t reflect the entirety of our experience of having median plurality within our system, we can share what we personally know of our own life in the hopes that it resonates with others in a helpful way.

Being a median subsystem to me (Dagger of Decay), feels like I’m separate sides of the same metaphorical coin. (At least, that was an accurate descriptor until I discovered more facets than just the two.) You look at this coin, and one side might have a picture of one thing on it, while the other has something completely different–but you’d be wrong if you said that this was two separate coins just because it’s different depending on how you see it or how you hold it. You’d also be wrong in saying that the coin only had one uniform side–I mean, it clearly has different pictures on each side, they’re clearly different!

The faces of the coin are the fableings that make up me as a person. If I really wanted to, I could probably label myself as one person with very strong kintype shifts, but that doesn’t feel like it covers the full scope of my identity. I can’t talk to my facets, I also can hardly ever disagree with them because we’re so close to the singlet end of the spectrum. But even still, when I’m Tomura Shigaraki, I’m not really the other facets of myself anymore–it’s like you’ve spun that coin around and they’re the ones who are face down, hidden from sight for that moment. The same is true for when any other one is in control. The coin just sort of flips itself occasionally and oops! I’m the same base guy, but in a different font. A little bit to the left maybe.

The amount of separatedness between us fluctuates–sometimes I say “I” to refer to all of me, other times we say “we”. That’s one of the more noticeable fluctuations between my facets, but there’s plenty of other things that shift and change too–how distinct we feel, how much we can disagree with each other, how much we feel connected to other identities we hold… But in the end, we’re solidly sat in the grey area between “one singular guy with no extras” and “multiple guys in one head”--and it took our system a while to get a hold of what that can mean and feel like, so I hope some people who are questioning or struggling with their identity can get a little bit of something out of this post.

For further reading:

The Dragonheart Collective's "Am I plural" guide.

Allium House's "what is the self?" essay.

Endogenic Hub's "Medians" page.

Otherkin Wiki's Plurality page (section on median plurality included).

Beepbird's "Median is More than People With Parts".

Beepbird's "For Medians: Fronting and Switching Control".

Beepbird's entire median plurality links section, honestly.

[batbabydamian]

BATMAN AND ROBIN (2023) #14 by Phillip Kennedy Johnson and Javier Fernandez! rambling about the new team and arc!! a jumping-on point for anyone wanting to read recent Bruce and Damian comics 🦇🐥

setting the stage with action!! mystery and intrigue!! expectations for further character exploration for Damian!!

if that's not enough to pique interest, here's a rendition of one of the many cute grumpy Damian panels

first of all THE OPENING ACTION SCENE OH MY GOD (this splash page hello!!)

i love...the collaborative effort in comics...it shines through right from the start, especially when it involves traditional inks 😭

using this single panel as an example from Fernandez’s ig:

Fernandez lays out most of the groundwork in his inks - the fully inked silhouette of the driver in the foreground, the shading suggesting the lighting, the white ink/paint lined and splattered for the rain!!

then off to colors with Marcelo Maiolo!! he elevates the panel to emphasize how it's a shot from within the vehicle looking out the windshield - the lightly tinted inks, the bright lighting from headlights, and the slight window sheen + bokeh!!

one more similar example, with comparison by the man himself - Fernandez already implying the glare, scraping white against Batman and Robin's silhouettes. then punched up with Maiolo's colors/lighting!! WOW!!

OKAY SORRY ONE MORE along with Steve Wands’ consistently lovely lettering, Fernandez included his own sfx in his inks of this page!! not sure how often he does it past this, but SO cool!! ever since seeing Juni Ba's sfx lettering in his inks, it's such a sick extra detail to me 😭

ANYWAY i can go on about what i love about each panel for this scene but gotta move on from the explosive intro of Batman and Robin to the more grounded side of Bruce and Damian (which ends up being just as explosive)!! 🥺

there's small details carrying over from Williamson's run like Bruce making Damian vegan meals and Damian creating comics; otherwise, we have a much more engaging writing of the two almost reminiscent to Tomasi and Gleason's run!

one example being his attitude towards a fancy event interrupting his and Dick's patrol in Batman and Robin (2009) #20

the first line from Bruce and Damian's disregard for a fundraising event is a bit of head scratcher to me when Damian is plenty compassionate, BUT for the sake of a jumping-on arc for new readers it’s a clear point of reference for Damian’s character - a kid who believes more in Batman and Robin work than what could be done outside of those masks. it becomes a matter of how Damian's perspective might change around this subject and how he'll take action in helping outside of Robin 🤔

another similar Tomasi-esque moment is Damian's snark about his grandfather lol, a sentiment that carries over from Batman and Robin (2011) #1

PKJ references his Ra's al Ghul story from Gotham City Villains Anniversary Giant! especially curious when the final line by Talia is "...you will see my father again", when Ra's is currently dead. a fun lil callback or also a convenient nod to future plans? 👀

NOW THE MYSTERY AND INTRIGUE OF IT ALL...

Bruce's attention is caught by this man shouting "You sit atop the wheel" which i'm guessing is in reference to the Wheel of Fortune, especially if we're going by a literal interpretation of the rich and poor (depicting the group among tents and carts).

i'm really reaching here, but wondering if Bruce calling himself “Jack” at some point is also related to the arcana. the only relation i could find is the Page of Wands, and the Jack once being referred to as a "knave"

EDIT: an anon reached out to inform me that Bruce called himself “Jack” during his training! seems to be first introduced in Batman: The Knight (2022) #4

THE REVEAL OF THE NEW VILLAIN, MEMENTO...the first page opens on a deceased person's face, and the last dialogue is "We will see your face again." AND OH BOY WE CERTAINLY DO! 😭

the flames casting a harsh light against the plaster (or stone??) of Memento's mask, and how he looms over Bruce...SO EERIE...

FINAL RAMBLY THOUGHTS

Damian being colored with noticeable melanin...🥺 i can only assume this was a deliberate choice made by PKJ since the editors haven't changed, and for the past issues Damian's colors have been independent to the colorists - the only edit being after Rex Lokus gave him green eyes in #5 but were returned to blue in #6 (for consistency ig). along with the classic teen asian haircut, this feels intentional on PKJ's part and i hope Damian will continue to be colored brown here and other books 🥺👉👈

one of the things PKJ teased in an interview was the idea of Damian wondering if he even wants to still be Robin, much less Batman (begging this is where main canon Damian gives the Batman mantle up lol). so presenting Damian here as someone absorbed in that life makes me wonder what triggers those thoughts - is it going to be this incident or later? more currently, will Damian be able to protect the civilians that Bruce entrusted him with? especially after getting familiar with a few, however reluctantly?

anyway, a banger first issue that leaves you with just enough crumbs to know what you're expecting but still beg for more: what's the mysterious new group/villain, and their connection to Bruce? will Dr. Bashar and the Wayne grandparents have more to do with the story? how will this all affect Damian outside of being Robin? Talia and Ra’s?? so many questions!!