#the demands people make of your time and energy

[osokasstuff]

[ID: screenshotted post of @/scretladyspider that reads, "recently read "if you were lazy you'd be having fun" and it has completely shifted my perspective on my own executive dysfuntion and ADHD" end ID].

well. it's helpful take for a lot of people, but i wanna highlight another thing.

having fun ≠ bad. having fun ≠ faking your disability/inability to do something.

executive dysfunction is a very broad category, but if i remember correctly it includes things like emotional regulation, attention switching, ability to transition between tasks, etc.

some disabilities (or reactions on previous experiences) may literally make you unable to do things that don't bring you fun. due to executive dysfunction or other symptoms.

for example, restrictive interests and thinking in autism may make one unable to focus on some tasks. because they just can't put their attention from something they're interested in into something extremely boring and/or confusing. or pda that may make doing tasks emotionally painful because of their demanding nature, while doing something for fun doesn't feel demanding. or other symptoms (and it is applicable to any neurodivergence, i use autism as example because it's something i deal with and that came on my mind first).

also! with any kind of disability that makes one struggle with task, it's easy to develop hatred to the task. because it's taxing, it gives less reward than takes energy, and doing it feels like suffering. it's very understandable to hate suffering and prefer fun activities to suffering.

people don't have to feel miserable to get support needs met. people don't have to feel shame, anxiety, or other bad feelings to "prove" they really need this support and really struggle. people who struggle still deserve have fun and be happy. people with support needs deserve spend time on fun activities or just chilling and don't feel bad about their support needs.

i know this culture "too sick to school/work -> too sick to have fun," but it is false and unfair. people shouldn't be punished and deprived from fun because of their support needs/sickness. when i say that people with support needs deserve being happy, i mean it too. we deserve have fun when our needs get met by someone. we don't have to sit there and apologize and feel shame for not doing it ourselves.

and completely abled people are also allowed to get support with things they despise doing! for example, when they live with something and sharing chores, they may ask other person to do this chore and take something else in exchange. or not take, if the other person is ok with doing extra chore.

having fun doesn't mean you don't need support or don't actually struggle with task.

[lazy-ahh]

YOU CAN STAY

pairing mark grayson x gender neutral reader

the weight of the world is crushing you—vigilante work, university, the endless noise of expectations. you’re so tired of holding it all together. but when mark finds you breaking apart, he doesn’t flinch. he just holds you, whispering the words you’re too afraid to believe: "you don’t have to do this alone."

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro , @cynvia

the weight of the world feels like it’s crushing you—like every responsibility, every expectation, is another brick stacked on your ribs until you can barely fucking breathe. assessments pile up, deadlines looming like vultures, and your phone won’t stop buzzing with unread messages you don’t have the energy to answer. the bruises from last night’s patrol still ache under your clothes, a constant reminder that no matter how many assholes you take down, there’s always another one waiting. what’s the fucking point? you’re exhausted, your chest is too tight, your breaths too shallow, and no matter how hard you push yourself, you’re always two steps behind.

vigilante work isn’t just throwing punches and looking cool—it’s blood on your knuckles, sleepless nights, and the gnawing fear that one wrong move could get someone killed. and for what? the city’s still a shithole, the bad guys keep coming back, and you? you’re just another idiot in a mask, pretending you can actually fix things. the worst part? you can’t even quit. because if you stop, who the hell else is gonna do it? the thought makes you want to scream, but you don’t. instead, you grit your teeth and swallow it down, like always.

you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, head in your hands, fingers tugging at your hair like maybe the pain will ground you—like if you pull hard enough, you’ll remember how to be a person and not just a live wire of frayed nerves and half-healed wounds. that’s when the window creaks open. you don’t even flinch. you know it’s mark. of course it is. the guy has a perfectly functional door, but no, he’s gotta make a dramatic entrance every damn time, like some golden-retriever superhero who’s never heard of subtlety. you’d roll your eyes if you weren’t so goddamn tired.

except—his presence does something to you, something stupid and soft. the second he’s near, your shoulders loosen just a fraction, your lungs remembering how to expand again. it’s infuriating. he’s sunlight breaking through storm clouds, all easy grins and effortless warmth, and you? you’re the thunder that follows the lightning, all sharp edges and aftermath. you want to reach for him, to press your face into the curve of his neck and let his stupid cologne drown out the noise in your head. but you don’t. you never do. because mark grayson deserves something bright, something unbroken, and you’re just a collection of scars and bad decisions wrapped in armour. so you swallow it down, like always. love is for people who aren’t held together by spite and caffeine, and you—you’re not fool enough to think you could keep it.

"hey," he says softly, voice warm and rough around the edges like he’s been running—or maybe like he’s been worrying. when you drag your gaze up, his eyes are all crinkled at the corners, brows pinched together in that stupidly sincere way of his. it’s worse than pity. it’s care. and god, you hate how your traitorous chest clenches at the sound of it.

you don’t answer. you can’t. if you open your mouth, you’re scared of what might come out—anger, because why does he get to be so good when you’re barely holding it together? frustration, because you should be stronger than this. tears, because you’re so fucking tired, and his voice is the only thing that’s felt safe in weeks.

mark sits beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours, solid and steady. he doesn’t push, doesn’t demand an explanation like everyone else does. he just waits, like he’s got all the time in the world to sit in the wreckage of your bad mood. and somehow, that makes it worse—because he shouldn’t. he shouldn’t waste his patience on you.

"i can’t do this," you finally choke out, your voice cracking like brittle bone. the admission tastes like failure. "i can’t keep up with everything. it’s too much."

mark’s hand finds yours, his fingers slotting between yours like they were made to fit there—warm, calloused from fighting, but so fucking gentle it makes your stomach twist. for a second, you forget how to breathe. his thumb brushes over your knuckles, and it’s stupid how such a small thing unravels you. but then the darkness creeps back in, whispering that you don’t deserve this, that he’s gonna realize you’re not worth the effort, that you’re just another broken thing he’ll eventually walk away from. so you tense, just slightly, like your body’s bracing for the moment he lets go.

"you don’t have to do it all alone, you know," he murmurs, and it’s not fair how easy he makes it sound.

"that’s the thing," you laugh, but it’s hollow, cracking open into something raw and wet like a sob. your fingers twitch in his grip, torn between clinging and pulling away. "i am alone." your voice is rough, scraped raw from the weight of everything unsaid. professors with their deadlines, friends who don’t get why you keep flaking, the whole fucking city breathing down your neck like you owe them something—it’s too much. your jaw clenches, nails digging into your palm where mark isn’t holding you. from the corner of your blurred vision, you catch the way his expression fractures—lips parted, eyes too bright, like he’s hurting for you, and that just makes it worse.

"i just want them all to go away," you choke out, your breath hitching. the words taste like surrender.

you squeeze your eyes shut, but the tears spill anyway, hot and shameful. "why won’t everyone just go away?" your voice is small, shattered. then, quieter, like a secret: "except for you though. you can stay."

mark doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t have to. he just pulls you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin, and you hate how perfectly you fit there. his hand rubs slow circles on your back, steady, like he’s mapping the places you’re coming apart so he can hold you together. his heartbeat thrums against your ear, a relentless, living thing, and for once, the noise in your head goes quiet.

"i’m not going anywhere," he murmurs, voice low and steady like a promise carved into stone. his breath ghosts against your temple, warm and alive, and when you dare to glance up, his eyes are soft at the edges—not pitying, just there, like you’re something worth holding onto. his thumb keeps tracing slow circles on your back, each one a silent i’m here, i’m here, i’m here, and it’s so fucking gentle it makes your ribs ache.

you bury your face in his chest, letting his warmth seep into your bones, chasing away the cold dread that’s been coiled around your lungs for days. the scent of his stupid cologne—something citrus and stupidly expensive—fills your nose, and for the first time in what feels like years, you breathe.

but the darkness doesn’t leave so easily. it claws at the edges of your mind, hissing that you’re a fraud for leaning into this, that mark’s gonna wake up one day and realize you’re just a hollow thing held together by duct tape and guilt. you don’t deserve this, it whispers. you don’t deserve him, his patience, his stupid dorky smile. you don’t get to unravel like this and still expect someone to stay.

mark’s hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair like an anchor. "breathe," he murmurs against your forehead, lips brushing your skin. "just breathe. i’ve got you." and god help you, you believe him. just for this moment, the voices fade—drowned out by the steady rhythm of his heart, the way his arms tighten around you like he’s willing to carry every broken piece if you’ll let him.

maybe you do deserve this. maybe, just this once, you can let yourself have it.

maybe the world won’t stop demanding things from you. maybe the weight won’t disappear overnight. but right now, with mark’s chin resting on top of your head and his stupidly perfect hands holding you together, it feels a little lighter.

and that’s enough.

holy cow, has it really been that long since i posted a one-shot? whoops. listen, this was 100% self-indulgent comfort food for my soul—you know how sometimes you just need to write about mark grayson holding someone (you) together at 3 AM while you're emotionally compromised? yeah. that. but then i figured, hey, if my brain worms are craving this, maybe someone else out there needs it too. so here we are. this 1.3k word mess is basically a love letter to exhausted individuals, overthinkers, and anyone who’s ever wanted to scream into a pillow while their emotionally competent (and imaginary) superhero boyfriend rubs their back. no beta, just vibes (and maybe a few tears). hope it gives you even half the serotonin it gave me.

[forty-servants-free-readings]

Pick a card

What is the dirty secret of your future spouse? (not sfw)

Pick a group and find out! Your reading is under the cut. I offer short, free oracle readings - my askbox is open and anon is on but answers are agonisingly slow due to demand and busy personal life. I also offer paid readings, explained in pinned post.

Pick a pile masterlist

Group 1 - The Planet

Their dirty secret is that they want to do it outside, in nature. They might also want to travel to different places to do it in, but it's not exhibitionism. They don't wanna be seen by others. They only want to do it on grass, in lake, near the waterfall and in other places like this. They might have played with themselves in similar places already btw.

Group 2 - The Father, The Protector

Their dirty secret is that they absolutely have daddy k¡nk. They aren't proud of this at all, but they just want to embrace and protect you, it's not in a creepy way. You might really get them going if you moan that out at the right time BTW.

Group 3 - The Dead, The Witch

So their dirty secret is that in the past they tried to use manifestation or some kind of rituals to be more physically attractive. This might also include trying to learn some psychological techniques to appear more manly/feminine (take whatever matches their energy) or more magnetising so that people can find them hotter. In case of occult practitioners they might have tried some spicy magic.

Group 4 - The Giver

They care a lot about equality of giving and taking in bedroom, but secretly they are sort of a stone top. They won't tell you this to not make you feel bad, and also they love that you wanna please them too - but they can only feel real pleasure when they are the ones being on the active side. This message especially applies to non hetero relationships.

[aceauthorarielle]

On Resistance

(This is taken from my Substack; link available at the bottom.)

We are living in a fraught moment. Facism’s back and it’s coming for all of us, and the only sane response here is to fight like hell. If you’re here, reading me, then I know you’re fighting, and I’m insanely proud of you. I’m not suggesting you take a rest, because we can’t, but I do want to talk about some of the ways that we can resist intensely but internally, on the days that we can’t go out there and scream into the void in the desperate hope that it’ll make someone change their damn mind.

Chuck Tingle, probably one of my favorite content creators (and a delightful writer of subversively hilarious sex stories) talks a lot about love being resistance, and I find that statement, that sentiment to be one of the most empowering I’ve encountered. I thought of that yesterday when I was out there on the curb yelling “HEY HEY, HO HO, THE FACIST FUCK HAS GOT TO GO” and sweating for the revolution surrounded by a bunch of beautiful accomplices all of whom just want to survive.

Love is part of how we survive.

The way we choose to love and connect is a core part of our authenticity, and there is maybe NOTHING in this world more powerful than to resist the destruction of our authentic selves. The way they break us is by taking away the parts of us that make us who we know we are. It’s how they confuse us and subdue us, it’s how they drag us into despair. Fighting against that despair is part of our day to day revolution.

While standing on that curb with tons of people I’d never met before, I fell a little bit in love with them, and I gave. I gave them my time, my moment, my chants, my energy, my dedication, and they gave all of theirs back to me, and we built a tiny community right there by the intersection for just maybe thirty minutes of passionate revolution.

We were our entire true selves, and we embraced each other’s true selves, and we stood together to be a wall of true, authentic human reality against the wave of horror that’s already here, and that is one way that love can and should be resistance.

Do NOT comply. Do not let them tell you that the way you love, the people you love, the way you build your family and the joy you take in it are wrong, broken, or not allowed. DO NOT LET THEM TAKE THAT FROM YOU. Fight back by loving harder, dedicating yourself more deeply to the people who matter to you, being louder and prouder and more effusive about your love because the more of that you give, the more you strengthen the people around you who are desperate to be seen as authentic and real in the face of this miasma of doubt and confusion.

Love with joy. Joy is subversive. Joy is a refusal to despair, and if you refuse to despair, if you DEMAND your authentic love, the only access they have to you is through physical violence and deprivation.

I can’t tell you how to fight that. I only know this;

I know that every time you say “I want to offer you the most authentic and beautiful love I have,” you become powerful. Every time you let yourself be that honestly, beautifully vulnerable with someone, you create an empowered space where someone can feel seen, heard, and known. Every time you REFUSE to be flattened, lessened, and diminished, you’re a fucking lighthouse for the people that need to know it’s still possible to find that kind of joy.

I think of Cody Daigle-Orians as I write this. He’s a fucking beam of laser-bright relief in a world full of “you can’t love that way.”

Cody Daigle-Orians , for the record, is @acedadadvice on most social media platforms, if you want to follow, and I STRONGLY encourage it. Get yourself some @drchucktingle while you’re at it; you won’t regret it.

They can pry the joy I find in my loves and my family from my cold dead goddamn hands.

I didn’t survive twenty years of my own brain trying to take me down from the inside to give up now.

Love is resistance.

RESIST.

[brightlotusmoon]

Amidst one of the most tumultuous weeks in U.S. history where we witnessed a president deploy troops to a US city against the expressed demands of state and local officials, a major escalation in the conflagration in the Middle East, and a political assassination, Trump's big day finally arrived.

What transpired can only be described as a Greek comedy. His face foretells impending dread...

The parade in DC was forced to start a half hour early because of incoming weather. DC residents were saying online the air was even more humid than usual. The Swamp settled into a thick rainy haze just as the parade was scheduled to begin.

But the real problem wasn't weather— it was crowd size.

DC is an absolute ghost town. As the parade began, news outlets on the ground all reported the crowd—predicted to be 200,000 people—was a mere fraction. One New York Times reporter described the energy as 'desultory.' The tepid and unenthusiastic attendees that did show up couldn't muster as much as a cheer, exhausted and drained from standing in the hot steaming rain for hours.

The US Army's speaker system blared John Fogerty's 'Fortunate Son', a famous song about the working class people who are forced to go to war and sacrifice everything while draft-dodging, silver spoon rich kids like Trump simply pay for a phony doctor's note. The irony was likely unintentional, yet another symptom of a decaying empire unable to maintain a coherent narrative. Speaking of incoherence, the bored troops marched in the sloppiest lines that would make U.S. Army George S. Patton slap a haux.

A video of the parade widely circulating on social media depicts an ancient 80-year-old tank plodding down Constitution Ave, the crowd so eerily quiet the only thing you could hear is the rusty tank treads squeaking, no less diminished than the man it was intended to honor. The video continues for several agonizing minutes with the only audible sound the squeaking of the rusty tank and the soldiers' heads peeping out of holes gasping for air trying not to suffocate.

Trump basically used $50 million of our tax money to humiliate himself. Outside the 10 miles of tall fencing and concertina wire wrapped around DC's buildings, and the empty streets now degraded from 30 ton tanks, a nationwide rebellion was afoot.

More than 8 million people came out today for #NoKings in the largest single-day anti-Trump protest in history.

The thousands of photos and videos online from #NoKings showcase how many millions hit the streets, how positive our energy was, how peaceful and organized we are, that no amount of right-wing disinformation could obscure the stark reality: that our movement has the Juice and MAGA ain't got shit.

Today we found our voice. Today we found each other. Today we reclaimed our beloved Stars and Stripes.

Today we birthed a great and mighty social movement dedicated to saving our democracy from the predator oligarchs who are robbing all of us blind, while they buy politicians and redirect our rage towards oppressed groups, like immigrants and trans people.

Today was the day we begin to turn the tables, not just on Donald Trump, but on the billionaire takers who contribute nothing to our society but an organized system of wealth extraction and widespread deprivation, bolstered by a rickety coin-operated fascist presidency.

"Rise like Lions after slumber. In unvanquishable number, Shake your chains to earth like dew. Which in sleep had fallen on you – Ye are many – they are few."

[stormblessed95]

You're still Jimin biased right?

I'm a little confused why you haven't been posting about the hate he (and his family) have been getting lately. At first I thought "Oh, maybe she's too busy", but then I see you responding to random Taekooker anons and it just feel like you're ignoring... or not caring about Jimin.

I really liked your blog because even while supporting Jikook, you still supported ALL SEVEN of the members. But now it doesn't feel that way (to me at least) anymore.

Also while I'm glad people are supporting Yoongi, lots of them are dropping Muse and Who to do so. That doesn't seem ok.

Jimin is selfless and kind, but he's an artist too and people shouldn't take advantage of his kindness even to help others. As ARMYs shouldn't we be supporting ALL of the members? We can show we support and love Yoongi while not abandoning Jimin. At least that's what I believe.

If you don't want to post about Jimin, could I at least know why?

Because honestly it seems like you're not actually OT7, and if not then I'd like to unfollow 🙁

Hopefully you'll answer me, even if it's not through this ask directly!

I still hope you're happy and healthy though 💜

[clumsypuppy]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[scoobydoodean]

Oh, I see. You and all your little friends are just too DUMB to understand. Too low IQ. The arguments sure is convincing.

I’m not kidding they really are saying somewhere out there that Kripke couldn’t possibly understand what it means to be blue collar because to do that, you’d have to have read about the value of a linen coat (which is not directly related to any of this btw) from Marx’s Das Kapital. Kripke of course couldn’t possibly have read it, and if you haven’t read it, you can’t possibly understand anything about class. You have to have read Theory™️ to understand what it means to be *looks down my nose at people who I assume Have Not Read All The Books That I Did* blue collar *sips from tea cup with my pinky out, chortling*

[giantkillerjack]

the average person doesn't expect you to be a perfect ethical consumer, that's not possible for the vast majority of us. but what youre saying is it's better to do nothing at all and choose the worst possible options (sweat shops, overseas shipping waste, idea/product theft, all wrapped up in SHEIN) than to put even the tiniest effort in where you can.

[they are referring to this post]

What I said was "some people are doing literally everything they can to survive and have no extra bandwidth to spend extra time and money on their purchases, and it is cruel and therefore un-punk to gatekeep punkness and add additional shame to these people's lives based on that fact."

I think it's still a good thing to try to ethically consume; I literally never said it wasn't. I had never even heard of SHEIN before. Rather, I am much more concerned about what I saw as arbitrary gatekeeping based on ability and income.

And frankly how dare you claim that I am supporting sweatshops and abuse by saying that this additional work you are demanding (in this case, presumably, vetting every clothing company you buy from) is not always possible for people. It is not a light accusation to accuse me of supporting abuse.

"How dare you say we piss on the poor", Etc. 🙄 this isn't Twitter. You are determined to enforce moral purity, but you are failing to see the nuance.

Because when I say "no extra bandwidth," I mean no extra bandwidth. This is not the "car shows it's on E but actually secretly it has a lot of gas left" situation that abled people constantly assume disabled people mean when they say they are at their limit.

This is "the car has stopped moving, and to move it I'd have to break my body pushing it." This is "at a certain point, people will hit a wall in terms of money and time and energy, and any energy spent after that comes directly out of their life force."

So the argument "okay but just spend a little more time money and energy actually" is not a valid one.

And the argument "if you are not able to do this specific task, then it means you're not doing anything else to make the world a better place" doesn't exactly impress me either. You said yourself that it is impossible to be a perfectly ethical consumer for most people.

How do you know what else people are doing to resist oppression? How many hours per week until your standards are met?What if someone works 3 jobs? Does that mean it's harder to be a good person if you're poor?? Why do you get to decide what specific avenue of bettering the world is the most morally repugnant or acceptable? What kind of proof of goodness and effort would make you satisfied enough to lay off on the shame?? Who are you helping??

Clothing is a fundamental human need, and some of us have to buy cheap fucking clothes quickly. Billionaires are buying their seventh yacht this month. The people who own fast fashion companies are abusing their workers and putting local affordable clothing stores out of business - and this applies for basically every company with price points that low because governments are failing to regulate corporations to enforce basic human rights.

I have $300 to spend on a new wardrobe as my old clothes have fallen apart or become too small. Do you have a way for me to get a new winter coat, 3 flannels, 10 shirts, 3 dress shirts, new sandals, 10 pairs of pants, 5 bras, 12 pairs of socks, and 10 pairs of underwear within that budget and also definitely 100% ethically sourced, with free returns in case it doesn't fit? Or will I simply have to use the cheap stores?

I have about an hour to spend on this per week. Many mainstream stores doesn't make clothes in my size, and I am now in *year 5* of needing an electric wheelchair and being unable to get one; plus I live up a flight of stairs, so I can't even bring my walker out with me - so thrift shopping is not gonna cover this. Should I continue to wear small and tattered clothing until I have the time, money, and energy to meet your standards?

Did you know there are more empty homes in this country than homeless people? If I decide to splurge on only 100% ethically-produced products, and I can't make rent, and I become homeless, are YOU going to be there for me?? Or are you too busy litigating the endless tiny shames of poverty in your own community?

So I ask you again, are you SURE this is where you want to direct your punk energy?

Because there are a whole lot of rich people relying on people like us punching down and to the side instead of looking up to see where the money is going.

Because energy and time, as it turns out, are limited resources. And I would never expect you to secretly have more than you claim to have.

[andragoras-in-vanity]

genuinely, how do people with fibro hold jobs? ive always felt like my fatigue stops me more than the pain, but i can do stuff if i get enough sitting time, so lately ive felt shitty for not working when others seem able to. worse, because i wouldnt want to work even if i could, so im almost relieved i cant.

but genuinely what the fuck. how do yall do this. theres "pushing through it" and then theres...whatevrr this is. packing up the house the last three days is making feel worse than death, my back hurts so much. and its not even that bad other than my mum freaking out and my stepdad doing half the job, a full physical 12 hour shift would be equal to this and i cannot do it. i couldnt do 9 hours a week two weeks in a row!! im convinced some of yall either don't actually have chronic pain OR theres something far worse going in with my body than fibro.

[licorishh]

Hey as a super introverted but not shy person I'd just like to say the jokes about extroverts "adopting" introverts to "get them out of their shell" are actually completely unfunny and it just goes to show how little respect a lot of y'all have for the fact that we genuinely don't want excessive social interaction and that y'all are forcing us to do something that brings us extreme physical and mental discomfort because you perceive our introversion as a failing rather than as purely a difference in personality.

We don't need your "help" to socialize. We're not children. We're simply not interested in spending every waking second of our lives talking to people and being talked at in return.

[planetarytransformation]

so many of the transfems i know spent their time pre-transition performing a kind of lifelong exercise in self-deprivation, the goal of which was to find out exactly how little a person needed to live. they starved themselves, dressed carelessly, shunned friends, and hollowed themselves out so as not to be burdens on anyone but themselves.

i see it now, too, in the girls around me. i'll ask if they want care – a home-cooked meal, relaxed company, sex without the expectation of reciprocation – and they say no, no, thank you, i don't need it; what would you like, what do you want, because in their head they're still doing that awful calculus, still training themselves to disappear in the eyes of the people around them.

i don't think i'd have died without transition – not in the conventional sense, at least – but to take that leap, i had to stop thinking of myself as a human experiment in fuel-efficient living and start nurturing the anemic, atrophied flame of desire in my heart. i had to learn to eat well, to exercise, to style myself beautiful, but harder than that, i had to learn to ask the people around me to work on my behalf in order to enrich my life and give me the things i wanted.

and i did it; i learned. and it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train, and every day i get better at accepting gifts with the hungry gratitude i never learned in my years and years as a sad, scared, lonely boy.

so be patient with the trans girls in your life. better than that: be proactive, attentive, generous; be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-denial that so many of us once learned to rely on.

and if you are so lucky as to love a trans girl, you must insist upon her. you must insist upon her happiness, her comfort, her pleasure, and her rest, because she may still not yet know how to make those demands for herself. if you can devote any amount of energy to becoming an engine that nurtures the flame of even a single tgirl then there is a place for you in trans heaven, which as far as i'm concerned is the only one worth going to

[elysiansparadise]

Ruler of the 10th house in the houses

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Here we find natives with a strong presence that is difficult to ignore, they easily achieve the respect and admiration of others. They can give the impression of being powerful, independent and very ambitious. They are very demanding people with themselves and can give off the vibe of being that way with other people. They have charisma and can become very popular, recognized and famous. Responsible, a great work ethic and people who never settle for the minimum. They aspire for great things and are not intimidated by anyone. There is something about their aura that makes them seem like authority figures or truly experts in the fields in which they operate. They can connect more easily with bosses or people with power, and throughout their lives they can meet or surround themselves with many of them, whether on a large or small scale. It bothers them that their efforts are not recognized. These people take their reputation seriously, seek to be respected and will never tolerate rudeness or misconduct towards them. They will not hesitate to defend themselves if they see that their reputation or everything they have worked hard to achieve is being compromised by someone. While they have no problem respecting authority, they will not hesitate to question it in case something seems off.

They are very frank and direct people, especially where their work and ambitions are concerned. These natives have an impressive drive and will always make sure to put all their time, heart and energy into something that excites them or feels worthwhile. Regardless of the relationship with the father, there may be very pronounced differences between them, either in personality or priorities. Despite this, it is likely that they have a similar temperament. They work very well on their own and can achieve greater recognition if they act independently, however when it comes to working as a team, they will always be responsible and productive. They are people with a great capacity to captivate the public and attract their attention, inspiring and motivating them. They constantly feel that they have to make themselves proud, so they can sometimes have strong self-criticism. They usually have jobs that allow them to make important decisions, where they are in charge or something that presents them with a constant challenge. In their work they can be in high demand, respected and needed.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

These natives usually give the impression of being calm people, who are easy to interact with and who have a subtle and elegant charm about them. Your aesthetic and appearance can stand out a lot among people. These natives feel better about themselves when they achieve achievements, when they are able to carry out their plans successfully and when people recognize their efforts. They greatly value their status and reputation, and if the ruler is distressed, other people's opinions are likely to have a great weight on them. These people can enjoy a stable and positive reputation in which they constantly gain people in their favor. They are persevering people who do not give up easily when things are slow or tense.Throughout their lives they can form stable and helpful connections with authority figures, who can provide them with stability in one or more ways. They are polite and kind to people, although they maintain a certain degree of reserve about sensitive or private topics in their lives. People often see these natives as people that have a lot of potential, skills or gifts that can help them achieve success on a large scale.

They give the impression of being people who are in control of their lives, people see them as reliable, trustworthy, and they can come to believe that the natives have their lives in order or resolved. This overlay promises that those who have this will be able to have a job that provides them with economic and emotional stability. These people never compromise their personal values ​​or principles for a job, because ethics and being consistent with what they consider correct is more important, which is precisely why they are usually seen as admirable and trustworthy people. Sometimes they fall into the belief that they have to do or achieve things to be worthy. There is a strong desire to build for themselves a life in which they do not lack anything or experience lacks or unsteadiness similar to those of the past. Some of the branches in which they could work are those related to administration, business, finance or any field that manages material resources. It should be added that they can also work wonderfully in any branch of art, as they are people with great ability for detail, design and harmony. They can achieve recognition and/or popularity for the gifts they have related to the planet that rules the 10th house.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

One of the things that stands out a lot about these natives is their intelligence, and they can be seen as people with a lot of knowledge, skill and mental acuity. People see them as people with a certain charisma and a lot of duality, since they are people very capable of adapting to their environments and the people they surround themselves with, making different impressions on people. With a restless mind, these people are constantly focused on their own goals, ambitions and creating plans to get where they want. A perfect mix of spontaneity, strategy and rationality. There are people who prefer to leave important decisions to their mind rather than to their heart, going so far as to overthink things a lot. They have a natural charm for getting along with other people and throughout their lives they can create important connections that can help with their professional life. This overlay usually portends that the natives may have many jobs throughout their lives and even work in many different fields. They are influential communicators and their words usually carry a lot of weight with the people around them, often being the voice of reason or the one whom many turn to for advice.

These people constantly aspire to acquire more and more knowledge in everything that catches their attention, they may have the feeling that they never finish learning. This is precisely why they tend to look for jobs that allow them to continue learning or that at least are intellectually stimulating. They can stand out for having an amazing, very capable mind and may even be admired for their knowledge or skills in various subjects. That interest they have in different fields makes them somewhat indecisive when deciding which area to work in. Despite being people with whom it is easy to establish communication, there is something in the way they communicate that evokes authority and makes those who listen to them remain silent or take them seriously. They can work in areas that allow them to create or improve connections, in which they use their communication skills, such as teaching, writing or something that involves getting a message out there. And we can even add those works in which they are allowed to exploit their creativity and duality, such as art or cinema.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

When encountering this overlay, we can see natives who give the impression of being people who do not share much of themselves, there is reserve and caution in them, however, there is also a certain warmth in them, something that makes them give a feeling of security to those around them, the vibe that they are reliable, attentive and polite. These people know perfectly well which sides of themselves they want to be seen and which sides they don't, and they usually succeed with it. They are people who place high standards or highly prioritize what they call family, there is a strong devotion and dedication to everyone to whom they assign that title, they seek to give them security, love and support. They can be very protective of the people they love. They may feel that one of their parents had to fill in for the other and play both or that one of the parents was absent for much of their life, either physically or emotionally. Natives with this overlay are people with great emotional and affective responsibility, they know how to recognize their mistakes and introspect if necessary. They are responsible and very focused on their emotional ties and do their best to always be there for those they love, providing support and comfort.

These people opt to choose jobs that give them true emotional satisfaction, rather than just doing something for money, they prioritize their peace and emotional well-being and will not risk it for some money. This aspect favors a positive, warm and pleasant relationship with authority figures, people with whom there is a long age difference and even with bosses. Their reputation is important to them and they will not do anything that risks or compromises it. At work they can become highly appreciated and admired by others, it is very possible that they find that feeling of home in the work environment, with co-workers and bosses. They tend to balance their work and family, sometimes pushing themselves too hard to give the same dedication to their role as workers as their role as parent/son/sister. They don't like feeling like they don't do enough to stand out or do a good job in class, nor do they like feeling like they don't do enough to make their special people feel their love. They may have jobs related to real estate, dealing with the emotions or needs of other people, or in general jobs in which they have to take care of something or someone.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

There is something captivating in the way these people show themselves, they have a charisma and charm that is easily noticeable by people. They tend to attract attention and recognition quickly, likewise, these natives can be greatly adored by people. They have a strong stage presence and can stand out a lot in their hobbies, managing to gain fame, popularity or recognition through their talents. People perceive them as empowered, imposing, confident and as a person who recognizes their value. They are considered very attractive people and have the possibility of attracting the person they want. They have the ability to attract the attention of people with power, influence or high status. They are people who have high standards in romance, they will never settle for little and they need to be able to feel proud and admire their partner. It should be added that they may prefer people who have more experience than them.

One or both of their parents may have placed many expectations and demands on them, and as they grew up, they maintained that attitude, becoming perfectionists or even overly critical, especially when doing activities that they are genuinely passionate about. These natives are endowed with a lot of ambition, a strong desire to show their worth, to have everything they ever wanted and to be able to enjoy their life without worrying too much. They have a strong self-love and throughout their lives they will try to build it and work on themselves, they learned to have themselves as a priority and not let anyone question their value or feel that it could affect them. These natives compete with themselves, but never back down from a challenge. These people look for jobs in which they are allowed to express themselves freely, and will opt to choose jobs that they are genuinely passionate about and bring them joy. They are not afraid of being in the spotlight so they can also be successful in positions of power or important positions. They can turn their hobbies into profitable work, they can easily stand out regardless of the branch they dedicate themselves to. The career they choose is likely to make them more in touch with their inner child. They shine easily and are capable of changing the mood of the room they arrive in for the better. 

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟔𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

These people can occupy a very good position at work and will easily earn the recognition, appreciation and support of their co-workers, even their bosses. They are usually seen as very capable people, their intelligence is something they stand out for, as well as their skills. They are people with an aura of someone you don't mess with, they are people who won't hesitate to call you out if they need it, there is something about them that naturally evokes authority and professionalism. It usually portends the appreciation and admiration of co-workers who work in lower positions than you, who may want to be like you in some way. They are people who stand out for their great work ethic. It is very likely that from a very young age they have felt that they have to assume great responsibilities or do the work of others, which leads them to become quite frustrated. Likewise, they were able to experience their parents' tendency to demand too much from them and, depending on what the regent does, even ignoring their needs in order to achieve or achieve things. They are somewhat nervous people who have a great need for achievement, believe in hard work and do not like to feel unproductive or have that feeling that they are not doing much. They set very high standards for themselves, and although they do not rationally seek perfection, they do things that seem like they do.

Strong self-criticism, they may be too harsh on themselves and feel that they aren't doing enough. These naives are very disciplined and dedicated people in what they give importance to. They can be excellent leaders, as they balance this search for results, that their workers explore and use their potential, but they also understand the limits of others and do not seek to exploit them or push them to the limit. Despite this self-oriented and success-oriented personality, they are people who people see as trustworthy, whom they can rely on or ask for advice, but above all, people who do not lose their humility and humanity even if they work in high positions or if they achieve great things. They can choose jobs in which they need to do some type of analysis, in which they focus on the well-being of people or other living beings, or in which they can maintain control or monitoring. It can cause fear or anxiety to feel that they do not achieve great things or on their own.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Without trying too hard, these people can project a natural charm, one that makes them be surrounded by people and transmit good feelings to others very easily. They tend to have a great reputation, people see them as nice people, who are easy to like and easy to interact with or connect with, likewise, people see them as people with a strong sense of justice, someone who He treats people kindly and knows how to be diplomatic without compromising his independence. They can attract people, from admirers, people who want to be like them or even people who are somewhat envious of them. In the native there is this mixture of empathy and orientation towards others, with a strong personal power, which can make them fascinating to the people who know them. Many of these natives can get along naturally with people with higher positions or status, becoming liked and respected by them. In fact, it is very likely that the person they are going to marry will be someone who is very successful, great professionals and very importantly, someone whom the native really admires and respects.

Marriage and its relationships can bring recognition and/or popularity to the native. These people aspire to a marriage, or in general relationships of any kind that are long, lasting and with people who not only show their support with words, but with actions. They will attract people who are older than them, whether in experience, age or wisdom and, as expected, this overlay also causes the future couple to be someone focused on work, achieving their goals and being very successful. Returning to the topic of their work life, these natives can choose to work in positions that allow them to interact with people, unite people or mediate between them. Laws and organization can play a very important role in your jobs. They can gain the support, affection and admiration of the public very easily and it may even be the case that, in cases of having clients, they are very loyal to the native no matter what. It not only applies to clients, but they can attract work partners, colleagues or long-term partners who are compliant and consistent with them.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟖𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

These people usually project an enigmatic or intense image. They can be perceived as reserved people, but with a strong personal magnetism that intrigues others and makes them feel attracted to them. Even if they are not overtly dominant, others often notice that they have an imposing or influential presence. They can generate respect or even intimidation, even if it is unintentional. It is easy for them to awaken complex, strong and intense emotions in others, often even just by their presence. These people are often seen as influential figures, although they do not necessarily seek fame. Your reputation may revolve around your ability to solve complex problems, handle delicate situations, or be there for others in times of crisis. Status, success and power is very attractive to them and they are likely to feel drawn to people who exude these characteristics. These natives can be very focused on constantly wanting to achieve and achieve things, so much so that sometimes it is difficult for them to relax and take a break, feeling that they can do more and that they should do more. They look for projects or plans with depth that can transform their lives or those of others, avoiding spending their time on superficial or ephemeral things.

Their work tends to be directed toward fields that involve power, shared resources, or transformation. Likewise, it is possible that they choose to take the path of a career where the environment is tense or very busy. An important motivation may be the need to have control over their life and circumstances, especially as it relates to their ability to defend and provide for themselves, their career, and public status. People with this position do not usually show their ambitions directly. They prefer to plan carefully, moving behind the scenes and making sure each step is aligned with their personal goals. Throughout their lives they work on their resilience and can stand out a lot thanks to it. They face many major changes that make them reconsider many times where they want to go and what they truly aspire to in their lives, but no matter the crisis they face, they will always emerge stronger. These people take their time to evaluate whether people or a situation are worth it, although once they set their mind to something, they give themselves completely, devoting all their energy to it.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟗𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

These people usually give the impression of being intellectual, open to learning and with a broad approach to life. There is something about their vibe that makes people see them as wise, very experienced and reliable, which makes many people feel at ease with them. There is a mix of energies, between that spirit that seeks to give a deep meaning to life, that which aspires and dreams and this more relaxed vibe that many easily trust or turn to when they need a light on a path of uncertainty. These people have goals aligned with personal and professional growth. They are not satisfied with material achievements; they want to understand the world, expand their minds and contribute to collective progress. They constantly focus on continuing to evolve as people, they have the vibe of old souls but still appear modest, because they feel that there is still much to learn and do. Natives with this overlay tend to be attracted to professions that allow them to grow, travel, continue learning or share ideas. Likewise, these natives can work in areas that allow them to interact with people from other cultures and even travel to other countries constantly. It is possible for them to inspire others by the way they carry themselves, the message they impart or the way in which they relate to them.

Their connection to knowledge and ideas gives them a prestige that is not necessarily linked to material power, but to their wisdom and intellectual achievements. Sometimes they may feel scattered or confused about which path to take, thanks to their wide diversity of interests and abilities. It is very common for them to dream about carrying out plans and have difficulties either starting or finishing them. They can achieve a lot of recognition or fame internationally, sometimes having more appreciation and recognition in countries far from their own. These people have rather internal goals, they are not people who seek to have excesses of money or power, rather to be able to live a life in which they feel full, satisfied and happy, to be able to simply live without stress, without questioning, without fears or doubts, just... live. Connect deeply with people, influence positively and continue to grow, learning about themselves and what is beyond the mundane.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

They give the impression of being responsible, disciplined and reliable people, which makes them stand out in situations where commitment is required and not only that, but also being very well seen and appreciated by authority figures. Even without intending it, they are perceived as authority figures or leaders since there is something in their presence that conveys competence and respect. They are seen as highly focused and having a clear purpose in life. They radiate professionalism, confidence and self-assurance. These people tend to be clear early on what they want to achieve in their professional life, and they work hard to build a solid and respected career. These people aspire to be recognized for their achievements and want to build a legacy that positions them as independent figures who were able to shape their destiny in their own way. Natives with this overlay often achieve high status thanks to their ability to lead and constantly work towards their goals. It is possible for them to build a solid career that provides them not only prestige but also long-term stability. They like to be constant in everything that matters to them, they are not people who make excuses, if something does not matter to them they will make it clear, very clear actually.

These people take the commitments they make very seriously, and it deeply bothers them when people make them and end up not doing their part properly, both in the workplace and in anything that involves not keeping their word. Their strong ambition and focus with their career can make the fear of not meeting expectations paralyzing. They can place very high expectations on themselves and demand too much of themselves, and if they fail or make a mistake, they can be very harsh on themselves. They don't mind being the center of attention or feeling people's eyes on them; on the contrary, they can easily get along with the public. They can become very recognized in their life and even achieve a large amount of popularity. There is something about them that can easily intimidate people, from the power they exude to their attitude, despite that, they can be seen as people with a certain charm behind their professionalism and that confident way of carrying themselves, traits that made them catch the attention and interest of others with ease. 

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Natives with this overlay usually give a first impression of being approachable, friendly, and oriented toward others. They are seen as someone who knows how to relate and who has a wide or valuable network of contacts. Their intelligence is remarkable and people quickly perceive how knowledgeable they are in their field. They are people with great ideas and goals, who not only seek personal success, but also aspire to contribute to the collective good, so they may prefer to opt for jobs in which they can help other people or contribute something positive to society. Not only do they have ambitions related to their status, but their goals are often aligned with a greater purpose. They stand out a lot for this ability to see the big picture, for realizing what others don't and this contemplative & non-judgmental attitude. It can be very easy for them to empathize with people and, through this, connect meaningfully with them, making them feel seen, understood and appreciated. This overlay also indicates the ease of gaining popularity and/or fame. It is very likely that at some point in their lives these people felt that they had to sacrifice their own desires to meet the expectations of the group or community; This overlay invites you to help others without losing yourself or forgetting what makes you happy along the way.

They can create a strong network of contacts and attract powerful figures as friends or allies. Likewise, these natives can bring friends who support and encourage them a lot in terms of their professional goals, giving them that push of luck when they need it most. And, in return, they seek to provide stability and constancy in their friendships. They highly value friendship and, once they find someone with whom they connect and with whom they form a bond of mutual support, they can be very loyal people. They may project the image of being natural leaders within groups or communities, although in a more collaborative than authoritarian manner, as this is how they pursue leadership. They do not seek to control and impose, they seek to unite and work harmoniously and together, which at the end of the day makes them admirable bosses. They can be successful in jobs related to social media, innovation and technology.

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

These natives have the particularity that although they read others very easily, their emotions and the masks others put for the public, people find it very difficult to decipher who these natives really are. Here we find ambiverts who are more inclined towards introversion, they are people with an aura of mystery, mysticism but who usually attract the interest and attention of others easily, even without meaning to. These people fear failure, they fear that this feeling of wandering aimlessly is permanent and that they feel like they have no purpose. They may have faced a lot of criticism during their youth, which made them close off and not let anyone see their true self. They aspire for things beyond the material, a motive, a reason, healing and even a state of peace and tranquility. Their spiritual growth is of great importance to them, and they have this constant search for ways to continue evolving as souls or human beings. In their work they are cooperative people, who easily understand others and seek to help them in order to do the job as best as possible. They are people who can work on something where they are behind the scenes, a job that allows them to function without exposing too much to the public. Despite this, they are people who can attract a lot of attention and, if they are public figures, many of them will give great importance to their privacy.

They don't like to expose everything about themselves and they don't like people trying to get into their lives. Many people tend to project themselves onto them, and sometimes people can idealize them. It is likely that being in the spotlight for a long period of time is uncomfortable for them, as they need time alone to recharge. Likewise, these people want to contribute positively to society or make great and positive changes through their work. They have a strong empathic and altruistic spirit, since they truly enjoy helping other people. There is something about these natives that captivates people, they are able to inspire and move others, perhaps with their way of thinking, their history or how they contribute to the lives of others. Many of them tend to attract envy throughout their lives, especially from authority figures or people older than them. These people can find refuge in their work, focusing their energy and distracting their attention, focusing it on fulfilling their duty instead of dwelling on their mood.

[norristrii]

NO I’M NOT IN LOVE.

“Every friend of mine, I told them the same, no I’m not in love.” — You and Lando insisted it was just friendship, nothing more. But your friends saw the truth. Then came the vacation, and suddenly, denying it wasn’t so easy anymore. Maybe they had been right all along.

pairing. Lando Norris x fem! reader.

warnings. fluff, teasing, 8k+ words, dual pov (once), friends to lovers, mutual pining, max f. and ria being menaces, idiots in love, partying, drinking, part of 800 event, based on this request, thank you!!

music. No I’m not in love by Tate Mcrae // Better Off (Alone, Pt. lll) by Alan Walker.

800 event. // event masterlist.

BEING PART OF LANDO’S INNER CIRCLE wasn’t something you had planned, wasn’t something you had expected, but somehow, it had become one of the best parts of your life. Ria had dragged you into it, nudging you into their world with effortless ease, like she had always known you would fit. And maybe she had been right.

At first, it felt foreign, intimidating even, like stepping into a world already so tightly woven that you weren’t sure there was space for you. But then, the late-night talks, the inside jokes, the endless teasing—it all became natural. Slowly but surely, you weren’t just with them; you were one of them.

You attended races together, voices blending into the roar of the crowd, your energy infectious, your excitement untamed. Every podium, every heartbreak, every chaotic moment was felt together—as a unit, as a family. You weren’t just cheering for Lando, you were part of his support, a fixture in the world that had built itself around him.

Quadrant became part of it, too—ridiculous challenges, late-night streams, moments that turned into memories before you even had time to realize it. You had found something rare in them, something that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t before.

And the fans? They loved you.

Your group—Lando’s group—became something bigger, something people admired, something people wanted to be a part of. You were favorites, the kind of people who lit up a space simply by being in it.

At first, you had convinced yourself that you didn’t have a type—that attraction wasn’t something you could define or categorize, that it wasn’t bound by a checklist of qualities or features. You had always believed that connections happened naturally, without logic, without reason, simply falling into place without needing to be explained. But then there was Lando.

Lando, who was rich—twice. It wasn’t just about the money, though people always seemed to mention it, but rather the way he carried himself, the way he navigated life with a confidence that was both effortless and earned. There was something magnetic about the way he stepped into a room, how he spoke, how he laughed, how he had the ability to turn the most mundane moments into something that felt special, memorable.

Lando, who was funny in a way that made people want to be around him. It wasn’t forced, wasn’t rehearsed—it was natural. It came in the teasing comments, the clever remarks, the way he knew exactly how to lift the mood when things felt tense. He knew how to make you laugh when you needed it the most, and somehow, no matter how chaotic he was, you had never grown tired of it.

And Lando, who had always been there. Lingering in the corner of your life, threading himself into moments that should’ve been insignificant but somehow never were. The way his presence was a constant, never overwhelming, never demanding, but always present. You never questioned it, never considered that maybe, just maybe, it meant something more.

There had always been something between you—subtle, undeniable, existing just beneath the surface, refusing to be named outright. Sometimes it was the way his eyes lingered a little too long when he looked at you, or the way his body naturally leaned closer whenever you were talking. Other times, it was in the quiet moments, when neither of you said anything, but the silence held an understanding you couldn’t quite put into words.

And yet, no matter how many moments hinted at something more, no matter how many lingering glances or stolen seconds stretched between you, you had always agreed—always insisted—that you were just friends.

Even if sometimes, it didn’t feel like that at all.

So the invitation came casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it was something you were meant to say yes to. Lando had leaned against the wall, arms crossed, that easy, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Ibiza. Summer break. You in?”

And honestly, how could you say no?

The thought of sun-drenched beaches, late-night laughter, music pulsing through warm summer air—it was impossible to resist. But more than that, it was him. It was the group. It was the feeling of belonging, of being part of something bigger than just yourself.

So you didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even try to rationalize it.

You smiled, shaking your head slightly at how effortlessly he made it sound. “Yeah. I’m in.”

Lando grinned, satisfied, because maybe—just maybe—he already knew you’d say yes.

───

The sun was high in the sky, casting golden streaks over the beach, the sound of waves crashing in the distance blending perfectly with the hum of laughter and music. It was the definition of a perfect summer—warm air, cold drinks, good company. You, Ria, Lando, and Max sprawled across the massive deckchair under the shade of the umbrella, bodies relaxed, conversations lazy, time slowing down in the best way.

Lando lay beside you, stretched out, limbs taking up far too much space, his knee brushing against yours every so often—a quiet, unspoken kind of closeness that neither of you seemed to mind.

“This is so boring,” he groaned, turning his head toward you, his eyes squinting slightly against the sunlight.

You rolled your eyes, not even surprised. “I need to tan,” you argued, shifting slightly as if to prove your point. Of course he would complain. He couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes without looking for something to do, something chaotic to jump into.

Lando scoffed, stretching out his legs, letting his head fall back against the cushion. “Do you know you can get cancer from tanning?”

Your eyebrows raised slightly. Wow. He was actually pulling out facts? You weren’t sure whether to be impressed or annoyed by his sudden concern.

“Not when you use SPF, idiot,” you laughed, nudging his leg slightly with your own.

Max had been the first to stand, stretching lazily, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was only leaving because he had run out of patience rather than genuine excitement.

“I’m going to the water,” he muttered, shaking off the last remnants of comfort before heading toward the shore.

Ria didn’t hesitate to follow, already tugging her sunglasses off as she moved. And of course, Lando was right behind them. The three of them couldn’t sit still for long, always itching to do something, always needing movement, excitement, a reason to cause trouble.

But you? You were perfectly fine where you were—legs stretched, cold drink beside you, the breeze just strong enough to keep the heat from overwhelming.

“I’ll stay here,” you told them with a soft smile, adjusting your sunglasses, letting yourself settle deeper into the cushion.

Max and Ria barely acknowledged your response, too caught up in the pull of the waves, but Lando hesitated, his shadow stretching over you, blocking the sun like an intentional challenge. He stood there, arms crossed, amusement tugging at the corner of his lips, his presence suddenly too noticeable.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Move, asshole,” you groaned, reaching up to take off your sunglasses so you could properly glare at him.

But the second your eyes met his, your thoughts stalled.

God.

The sunlight caught in his damp curls, highlighting the golden streaks woven naturally into the brown, making them look even messier than usual. His skin was sunkissed, toned, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he shifted his stance. And the way he was looking at you? Like he had already decided something, like you had no real choice in whatever was about to happen next.

“Nuh uh,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing, just a little rough from the heat.

And then, without warning, his arms were around you.

Your breath hitched as you were suddenly off the ground, lifted effortlessly into his arms like you weighed nothing, like gravity didn’t apply to you in his hands.

Your stomach flipped, pulse hammering against your ribs, as your fingers instinctively gripped at his shoulders, wide-eyed, half-shocked, half-infuriated at the audacity.

Wow. That was attractive.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, though your voice lacked any real bite, because you knew. You already knew.

Lando’s grin widened, smug, his grip firm, steady, strong enough to make your pulse skip yet again.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he teased, taking one slow, deliberate step towards the water.

Lando’s steps grew quicker, his grip firm, his laughter mixing with yours as the inevitability of your fate became very clear. The water loomed closer, waves lapping against the shore, sparkling under the bright summer sun. The scent of salt clung to the air, carried by the gentle breeze, cooling your skin even as your pulse quickened. He was determined—too determined—eyes glinting with mischief, a playful kind of chaos wrapped around his every movement.

“Oh my God, Lando, no—” you shouted, your voice laced with amusement despite the urgency, laughter bubbling past your words as you struggled in his hold. You weren’t really trying to break free—part of you knew it was useless—but the anticipation, the excitement, made every second feel stretched, every heartbeat louder, every breath caught somewhere between thrill and frustration.

“Oh my God, Lando, yes,” he mocked, voice dripping with teasing, his grin wide, triumphant, fully enjoying your impending downfall. His feet met the cool waves, sending small ripples through the water, the sand shifting beneath him as he moved forward. He was completely unaffected, entirely confident, enjoying the moment far too much for your comfort.

“Put me down!” you demanded, the words escaping between breathless laughs, your fingers curling around his shoulders, gripping tighter, as if holding onto him would somehow change the outcome.

But before you could plead further—before you could even brace yourself—he threw you in.

The water consumed you instantly, cold and refreshing, wrapping around you in a shocking contrast to the warmth of the sun. The waves pulled at your limbs, weightless for a second before you resurfaced, gasping, blinking rapidly as droplets clung to your lashes, your hair slicked back, your body drenched from head to toe.

Lando stood just a few feet away, hands on his hips, looking absurdly pleased with himself.

“That was unnecessary,” you huffed, pushing wet strands from your face, sending a small splash his way for good measure.

He merely shrugged, green eyes shining, laughter still lingering on his lips. “Nah, that was perfect.”

Ria and Max were laughing behind him, enjoying the spectacle as much as he did, and despite yourself—despite the entire situation—you couldn’t help but laugh, too.

Lando barely flinched at the first splash, his smirk growing as he dodged your attempts to soak him further. But you weren’t done—you wanted revenge, and you weren’t going to let him get away unscathed.

Laughing, you moved closer, water sloshing against your legs as you sent another wave of splashes towards him, determined to push him deeper into the ocean. He yelped slightly when you caught him off guard, wiping droplets from his face, his curls dripping, his grin stretching even wider.

“Oh, so that’s how we’re playing it?” he challenged, stepping back as you lunged forwards, pushing at his chest, trying to force him into deeper waters.

“Yes,” you declared, hands pressing against him as you fought the resistance.

But Lando was quick—too quick.

Before you could celebrate your tiny victory, he grabbed your wrists, spinning you effortlessly, switching the advantage so you were the one struggling to stay upright.

“Not so fast,” he teased, pulling you forward, letting the waves crash around you both, his laughter tangled in the salty breeze.

And just like that, the playful battle turned into something else—something softer, something closer.

Lando’s grip on your wrists tightened just enough to steady you, to stop your playful attack before it could escalate further. His green eyes gleamed with amusement, his smile lazy, smug, entirely too satisfied with how easily he had flipped the situation in his favor.

“I swear to God, Lando,” you laughed, trying to twist out of his hold, your feet stumbling against the shifting sand beneath the waves.

He hummed, pretending to think, the water rising higher around both of you now, cool and refreshing, lapping at your waist. “Swearing won’t help you now.”

You narrowed your eyes, determined, using the element of surprise as you shifted your weight, pushing into his chest with a sudden burst of force.

Lando wasn’t expecting it.

His balance tipped backward, his arms loosening just enough for you to break free. And before he could recover, before he could retaliate, you placed both hands flat against his chest and pushed.

The sound of his startled laugh echoed around you as he crashed into the water, disappearing beneath the surface with an exaggerated splash.

Triumph surged through you as you took a step back, grinning, waiting for him to come up for air.

And when he did, when he surfaced, soaked through, blinking against the droplets clinging to his lashes, you knew—you were in trouble.

Lando pushed his wet curls back, blinking rapidly, water dripping down his face as he wiped his eyes. The smug grin remained, but now it carried something else—determination.

“Oh, you think you’ve won?” he asked, voice low, teasing, the kind of challenge that sent a thrill of anticipation through you.

You took a cautious step back, pretending innocence, but your own laughter betrayed you. “I mean, I did push you in, so—”

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence.

Lando surged forward without warning, cutting through the water with ridiculous ease, hands reaching for you before you could fully react.

Your breath hitched, laughter turning into a surprised gasp as his fingers wrapped around your waist, pulling you against him just as the waves crashed around you both. His body was warm despite the chilled water, his grip firm yet playful, locking you in place before you could try to escape.

“Payback,” he murmured, voice closer now, breath brushing against your ear as his hold tightened just enough to make you gasp again.

“Oh, no—,”

“Oh, yes,” he grinned, and then—you were falling. Straight into the waves.

The cold swallowed you, a rush of adrenaline sparking through your veins as the water curled around you, pulling you deeper before you fought your way back to the surface. You came up gasping, hair soaked, eyes narrowed as you wiped water from your face.

Lando was already laughing, hands on his hips, victorious.

“Okay, fine,” you huffed, swimming closer, splashing at him without hesitation. “Now we’re even.”

Lando only chuckled, stepping back slightly, the playful gleam in his eyes still dangerously present. “Are we?” he asked, voice dropping slightly, teasing, challenging.

Max shook his head, amusement laced in his expression as he watched the chaos unfold. The water still rippled from where you and Lando had been fighting your playful battle, waves catching the sunlight as they curled gently toward the shore. “You two are like little kids,” he teased, his voice dripping with exasperation, though there was no real annoyance behind his words—just the familiar fondness of someone who had grown entirely used to your antics.

Ria, however, wasn’t focused on Max’s commentary. Her sharp gaze flicked between you and Lando, the playful energy, the laughter, the effortless way you were drawn to each other without even realizing it. And then, when her eyes settled on you, she knew. The way her lips curled slightly, the subtle raise of her eyebrow—it was the universal sign that she had figured something out.

You sighed, already knowing what was coming before she even spoke.

“Come on,” she muttered under her breath, grabbing your wrist with a firm grip, not bothering to wait for your agreement before tugging you toward the shore. The water dripped from your skin as you stumbled forward, the warmth of the sand shocking against your damp feet as you stepped out of the waves, leaving Lando and Max behind.

The summer sun kissed your skin, drying you quickly, though the remnants of saltwater clung to you, lingering like a reminder of what had just happened. The breeze swept in gently, carrying the distant laughter of beachgoers, the scent of sunscreen, and the quiet hum of the ocean stretching beyond the horizon. But none of that mattered—not when Ria turned to you fully, hands on her hips, eyes gleaming with knowing amusement.

“Tell me you don’t like him,” she challenged, her voice both lighthearted and firm, daring you to deny what she already knew was true. “And I swear if you say it, it’ll be obvious you’re lying.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, fingers twisting into the hem of your soaked shirt as if grounding yourself in the motion would help.

“I don’t,” you insisted, voice steady, too steady, because you were forcing it to be.

But the way Ria’s smirk grew—slow, confident, victorious—told you everything you needed to know.

She didn’t believe you.

Ria didn’t move, didn’t let you avoid the conversation, didn’t let you brush off the weight of the moment. Instead, she just stared, arms crossed, her head tilting slightly as she studied your expression, waiting—knowing.

You huffed, shifting uncomfortably, kicking at the sand beneath your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your heart was beating just a little too fast.

She wasn’t going to let this go.

“You don’t like him?” she repeated, voice thick with skepticism, eyes narrowing slightly.

“I don’t,” you reinforced, but it wasn’t as sharp this time. It wasn’t convincing—not to her, not to yourself.

Ria rolled her eyes, scoffing as she reached for the towel she had tossed onto the chair earlier, shaking out the fabric before tossing it toward you. “Okay, sure. Tell yourself that.”

You caught the towel, gripping it tighter than necessary as you wiped the excess water from your arms. “It’s not like that,” you muttered, avoiding her gaze, keeping your voice neutral, like saying it plainly enough would make it true.

But Ria wasn’t buying it.

She leaned in slightly, her voice lower now, softer, but still teasing, still knowing.

You’re blind if you don’t see the way he looks at you.”

Your throat tightened. “Ria—”

“No, seriously,” she continued, crossing her arms again, watching your reaction carefully. “The way he looks at you? The way you look at him?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two were already dating.”

You laughed—actually laughed—because that was ridiculous.

“You’re reading into it way too much,” you said, shaking your head, draping the towel over your shoulders. “Lando’s like that with everyone”

Ria gave you a look, the kind that made your stomach twist.

“Oh, babe,” she murmured, smirking now, too confident, too sure. “He’s not like that with everyone.”

Max let out a laugh, shaking his head as he floated in the water, watching Lando with the kind of knowing amusement that only a best friend could have. The waves rolled gently around them, pulling them in and out with the steady rhythm of the ocean, the sun reflecting brightly against the surface. Lando’s face was mostly unreadable—at least, to someone who didn’t know him well. But Max? Max could see it, clear as day, written in every glance, in every slight hesitation, in the way his gaze always found its way back to you.

“You are making it so obvious, man,” Max muttered, voice carrying just enough teasing to make sure Lando felt it, to make sure he couldn’t brush it off like some fleeting thought.

Lando frowned, his brows furrowing just slightly. “What?” He sounded genuinely confused, but Max knew better—knew he wasn’t oblivious, just in denial.

Max raised an eyebrow, letting the words come easily, stating them like they were the most obvious thing in the world. “That you like her.”

The reaction was instant—too instant. “What?! I mean, I don’t,” Lando blurted, but even as he said it, his head turned slightly, his eyes flickering toward the shore, towards you.

You were laughing, your fingers wringing the water from your hair, the sunlight catching in the damp strands, reflecting golden against your skin. There was something effortless about the way you carried yourself, the way you fit so seamlessly into this moment, into his life. And maybe Lando wasn’t ready to admit it—to say it out loud—but the way his chest tightened at the sight of you, the way his breath caught just slightly, was proof enough that he felt it.

Max watched him carefully, waiting for the inevitable, waiting for him to realize what was so blatantly obvious to everyone else.

And then—Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, dropping the fight just slightly. “Okay, maybe a bit,” he admitted, voice quieter now, not defensive, just hesitant. His fingers fidgeted against the surface of the water, his gaze shifting between you and Max, uncertainty laced into his expression. “But she’s not interested in me.”

Max scoffed, shaking his head, kicking at the water with his foot, sending small splashes toward Lando in frustration. “Bro, are you blind?”

Lando scoffed, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss Max’s words, but the doubt—the possibility—lingered beneath it, stubborn, refusing to leave. His fingers skimmed the surface of the water, fidgeting slightly, his mind turning over the idea even though he wanted to ignore it.

Max sighed, rolling his eyes as he drifted closer, arms lazily cutting through the waves. “Mate, seriously. Do you really think she’d mess around with you like that if she didn’t care?”

Lando huffed, shifting slightly, the hesitation obvious now, even if he was trying to play it cool. “She messes around with all of us.”

Max scoffed again, shaking his head. “Not like that.”

───

It was the perfect time for drinks on the beach, for lazy mornings stretched under the sky, for the simple indulgence of summer.

Max and Ria had sent you and Lando on a mission—drinks for them. And of course, it was just the two of you.

Lando had excused himself to the bathroom as you made your way to the bar alone, the wooden counter smooth and cool beneath your fingertips. The bartender greeted you with a quick glance, his eyes lingering for just a beat too long before his lips stretched into a polite smile.

“Hey,” you greeted, returning the expression, casual, effortless. “Can I get two piña coladas and two mojitos?”

The bartender nodded, grabbing the bottles, beginning the careful process of crafting the drinks, his movements precise, practiced. “Of course,” he said, breaking the quiet pause between you. Then, as he worked, he tilted his head slightly, curiosity lining his words. “How do you enjoy it here?”

You smiled, glancing briefly at the expanse of beach behind you, the waves curling toward the shore, the distant laughter of other vacationers filling the air. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you said simply, the sentiment genuine, but not particularly deep.

The bartender’s attention lingered, his fingers tapping against the counter rhythmically, his expression shifting just slightly, leaning into something more… bold. “I work ‘til seven,” he started, the words slow, deliberate. “Maybe, don’t you want—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

Before you could react, before you could fully process where this was going, a presence appeared behind you—familiar. The scent—clean, warm, Lando. The voice—smooth, casual, just a little too nonchalant.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?”

His arm slid around your shoulders easily, comfortably, like it had always been there, like it belonged.

The bartender’s expression shifted—hesitated—eyes flickering between you and Lando, the realization settling quickly, the unfinished sentence evaporating before it could ever be spoken.

Lando glanced at the drinks being prepared, acting as if he hadn’t just interrupted something, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “What’s taking so long?” he mused, voice light, casual, but there was something underneath it—something sharp, something intentional.

You blinked, adjusting to the shift in energy, to the way Lando had stepped in so seamlessly, the way his grip on your shoulder didn’t falter, didn’t shift.

“Oh, just waiting,” you murmured, watching as the bartender refocused, speeding up his movements, no longer lingering, no longer making conversation.

Lando hummed, fingers pressing lightly against your skin, his hold easy, effortless, territorial.

The walk back to the others felt different—like the air had shifted somehow, like something had settled between you and Lando in a way neither of you had fully acknowledged yet. The drinks rattled slightly on the tray he carried, the condensation dripping onto his fingers, but he didn’t seem to mind. He carried it effortlessly, like it had always been his job, like you weren’t even allowed the chance to take it from him.

You glanced at him, side-eyeing, testing the waters.

“You really didn’t need to do that,” you pointed out, voice light, teasing.

Lando smirked, adjusting his grip on the tray, his fingers flexing ever so slightly around the edges. “I wanted to,” he said simply, like that was answer enough.

You scoffed, shaking your head, brushing off the teasing, but the way he had stepped in earlier, the way he had slid into that moment at the bar so seamlessly—it was still sitting somewhere deep in your thoughts, lingering.

And then—

“You know he was gonna ask you out, right?”

You faltered slightly in your step, turning toward him, eyebrows knitting together. “What?”

Lando kept walking, kept looking ahead, but there was something too casual about the way he spoke, too measured. “The bartender,” he clarified, tone easy, natural, like this conversation wasn’t something, like it was just another harmless observation. “He was working up to it.”

You frowned, replaying the moment in your head, the way the bartender had leaned in slightly, the slow, deliberate way he had spoken, how the unfinished sentence had died the moment Lando arrived.

And the way Lando had arrived.

“Okay,” you said slowly, watching him now, studying the way his posture remained relaxed, like he wasn’t fully paying attention, like he was trying too hard to seem unaffected. “So?”

Lando shrugged, fingers tapping idly against the side of the tray. “So I wasn’t gonna let that happen.”

Your stomach twisted, heartbeat skipping slightly.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms as you walked. “That’s a bold move, Norris.”

He smirked, but he still didn’t look at you. “Didn’t feel bold. Felt necessary.”

Your pulse stuttered, but you refused to let the weight of his words settle in a way that made them mean something.

You rolled your eyes, pushing forward. “You don’t own me, you know.”

Finally, finally, Lando looked at you. And there was something charged in his gaze, something teasing, something knowing.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his lips curling slightly. “I know,”

But the way he said it—the way his voice dipped just slightly, the way his smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes—made you wonder if maybe, he wanted to.

But yeah, you definitely did not like him. Not at all.

───

The night was alive, stretching out ahead of you like something infinite, something meant to be reckless, unforgettable. It was exactly what young people did on vacation after sunset—drink too much, dance too hard, let loose in a way that would be laughed about in the morning.

The plan was simple: get wasted. Totally. Immorally.

And somehow, that plan had led you here—to a club humming with bass so deep it vibrated through your chest, neon lights flickering in shades of electric blue, ruby red, pulsing violet. The air was thick, heavy with heat, sweat, the scent of alcohol mixing with the excitement of too many people packed together, bodies swinging, moving, losing themselves to the rhythm of the music.

And, once again, it was just you and Lando.

Ria and Max had disappeared, slipping away into the chaos without so much as a word, vanishing into the crowd like ghosts. It wasn’t the first time they’d done this—always conveniently lost, always conveniently absent just when it was only the two of you left behind. Suspicious. Too suspicious.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, scanning the room, half expecting to catch a glimpse of them watching from a shadowed corner, hiding like they planned this, like they wanted this.

Lando leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed against your ear, his voice low but teasing over the music. “They do it on purpose, you know.”

You tilted your head just slightly toward him, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

He grinned, stepping closer, the space between you shrinking, the flashing lights catching in his damp curls, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw. The energy between you shifted—something playful, something charged, something neither of you had acknowledged outright.

“So,” he mused, his tone light but suggestive, “since we’ve lost them… what do we do now?”

Your stomach twisted, pulse picking up speed, matching the pounding beat of the music.

The thought of searching for Ria and Max had been weighing on you—not enough to take action yet, but enough to sit somewhere in the back of your mind, whispering that finding at least one responsible person would be the smart move. Because while getting wasted was absolutely part of the plan, drunk Lando was a different story altogether. He was chaos personified, a walking hazard when he got too far into his drinks, and if past experiences were anything to go by, you knew there was no controlling him once he hit a certain level.

You needed someone to be the voice of reason—the grounding force among the recklessness. And right now? That someone wasn’t you.

But then—the music changed.

The opening chords of Tate’s No, I'm Not in Love pulsed through the speakers, threading through the air, wrapping itself around the flashing neon lights, settling into the atmosphere like it belonged there. You froze, breath catching for just a second, because Jesus Christ, no song could possibly describe your situation better than this one. It was too on point, too fitting, like the universe itself was nudging you towards a realization you weren’t sure you wanted to fully embrace.

You glanced over at Lando, watching as he swayed lightly to the beat, blissfully unaware of the ridiculous irony of the moment. He was too caught up in the rhythm, too lost in the intoxicated haze of the night, but you? You weren’t lost at all. You saw it clearly. And suddenly—the idea of searching for Max and Ria seemed a lot less important.

A slow smirk curled onto your lips, mischief flickering in your eyes. “Maybe we should enjoy it on our own,” you mused, letting go of whatever impulse had been telling you to find the others. Let them watch. Let them plot.

The moment overtook you—the alcohol, the music, the sheer audacity of knowing Ria and Max were watching like hawks from whatever hidden corner they had claimed. So, fine. If they were going to meddle, if they were going to set the stage for whatever game they thought they were playing, you might as well put on a show.

You threw your head back, letting the music pulse through you, and without hesitation, the words left your lips—loud, exaggerated, off-key but undeniably committed.

“Every friend of mine, I told them the same!"

Lando hesitated at first, brows furrowing slightly, the drunken haze clouding his comprehension. But then—then something clicked. Recognition. Understanding. And slowly—dangerously—a smirk crept onto his face, matching the energy you had thrown out so unapologetically.

He laughed, shaking his head, letting the moment settle before joining in, leaning closer, voice rough, teasing.

“No, I'm not in love!"

You threw your arms out dramatically, gesturing like you were making some grand proclamation to the entire club, like this was a performance meant to be witnessed, meant to be talked about.

“I’m not thinking about you,” you sang, voice tangled with laughter, exaggerated and bold, thrown out into the air like they meant nothing, but they did, and it was an obvious lie, one that Lando saw straight through.

Because the way he laughed, the way his fingers curled around your wrist for a fleeting second before letting go told you he knew, he knew you were lying, he knew this wasn’t just a drunken joke anymore, he knew that whatever was happening between you—the teasing, the tension, the game neither of you had fully acknowledged yet—was already spiraling into something dangerous, something inevitable, something neither of you were stopping.

His gaze lingered, sweeping over you with an ease that was too deliberate, too knowing, and he tilted his head slightly, watching the way you swayed, the way the neon lights painted streaks of red against your skin, the way your breath hitched when he stepped just a little closer, and still, the lyrics kept coming, tumbling past your lips effortlessly, sinking into the charged air between you.

“And I don’t hate every girl your eyes go to!”

Lando’s smirk deepened, slow, deliberate, dangerous, and then, just for a moment, for one fleeting second, his eyes dragged over you, measured, intentional, like he was answering a question neither of you had spoken aloud yet, like he was proving something, like he was silently calling your bluff.

“No I’m not in—“

The words barely had time to leave your lips before Lando’s hands were on you, pulling you in, crashing his mouth against yours with the kind of recklessness that came from too many drinks, too much tension, too much waiting. There was nothing gentle about it, nothing hesitant—just a collision of heat and energy, the culmination of a night filled with teasing and unspoken words. The weight of the moment drowned out everything else.

The music thumped in the background, a steady pulse, a heartbeat for the night, but it was distant now, muted beneath the rush of blood in your ears. The flashing neon lights bathed everything in shifting hues, casting streaks of electric blues and reds against his skin, painting the moment in something surreal, something that didn’t feel entirely real but was. The crowd moved around you, bodies swaying, voices blending together in laughter and shouting, but none of it mattered.

All that existed in that breathless, intoxicated second was him.

Lando tasted of tequila and recklessness, of something unspoken, something that had been lingering between you for far too long. His grip was firm, fingers curling against your waist, holding you close, grounding you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. There was a desperation in it—like maybe he’d wanted this longer than either of you would admit, like maybe this wasn’t just about the alcohol or the tension but something deeper, something inevitable.

When he finally pulled back—just enough to see your face, just enough to look at you the way he always did but never quite let on—his smirk was lazy, teasing, dangerous. His thumb brushed against your jaw, gaze flickering over your expression, searching, waiting, as if he expected you to say something, as if he knew there were words stuck in your throat that you weren’t quite ready to speak.

The energy between you was charged thick with the weight of something inevitable, something unspoken, something that had lingered far too long between teasing smiles and fleeting touches. The music swelled, pressing into the moment, drowning out logic, hesitation, reason.

You hadn’t thought—you had just moved hands gripping his shirt, pulling him back into you, kissing him without restraint, without second-guessing, without giving yourself the chance to stop.

This time, Lando wasn’t caught off guard.

This time, he expected it.

His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer, his lips pressing against yours like he wasn’t just matching your recklessness, like he was meeting something that had always been there.

The world blurred, neon colors flashing against his skin, drowning you both in electric hues, but none of it mattered—none of it registered—not when the only thing grounding you was him.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, breathless, gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes, searching for something unspoken, something real, something that neither of you had fully admitted yet.

“Still not in love?” he murmured, voice low, teasing, but there was something else beneath it, something daring, something that asked for more than just a playful answer.

Your chest rose and fell, breath uneven, heartbeat thrumming in rhythm with the bass.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head slightly, though it wasn’t convincing, though the smirk playing at the edges of his lips told you he knew the truth.

“I’m very drunk,” you countered, not answering his question, deflecting, but the way your fingers still curled into his shirt, the way you hadn’t let go—it was telling.

Lando hummed, lips twitching at the corners, his thumb tracing absent patterns along your waist. “So am I,” he admitted, voice barely above the music. “But I still meant it.”

Your stomach twisted, breath hitching.

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than the pounding bass, louder than the drunken chatter of the club around you. You barely processed the flashing neon lights anymore, barely registered the movement of the crowd—because suddenly, the only thing that mattered was him.

Lando’s grip on your waist hadn’t loosened, his fingers still curled against your skin like he wasn’t ready to let go, like he wasn’t even thinking about letting go. His expression had shifted—something softer beneath the smirk, something hesitant but certain at the same time.

“I like you, Y/n,” he said, voice lower now, quieter, like it wasn’t just another teasing remark, like it actually meant something. “A lot.”

Ria and Max stood near the exit, casually leaning against the wall, watching the scene unfold before them with smirks that said they knew this was coming all along. The neon lights flashed overhead, casting an electric glow across the club, but neither of them were paying attention to anything other than you and Lando, tangled together, oblivious to their spectators.

Ria took a slow sip of her drink, eyes gleaming with amusement as she tilted her head toward Max. “Right, because she’s definitely not in love,” she remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, barely masking her satisfaction at seeing her prediction come true.

Max chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched Lando pull you closer like he had to, like it was beyond his control now. “Oh yeah, totally platonic,” he mused, amusement flickering in his tone. “You know, just friends, casually making out in the middle of a crowded club.”

Ria scoffed, shaking her head. “Honestly, they should start paying me. I don’t even charge for matchmaking, but I really should.”

Max nudged her lightly, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. We didn’t do anything this time. This was inevitable. We just sat back and let it happen.”

───

Nobody talked about that night—not even Ria and Max, which was strange considering how much they loved meddling, loved pushing things just for the sake of watching them unfold. They had bet on it, plotted it, orchestrated it in their own way, but afterward? Nothing. No smirks thrown your way, no sly remarks, no comments about how they knew this would happen, no subtle nudges toward whatever this was supposed to mean.

It was like they had collectively decided to let it sit untouched, unmentioned, as if acknowledging it would make it real.

Maybe that should have made it easier.

Maybe the silence should have let you push it aside, should have allowed it to fade into the same blur of bad decisions and drunken recklessness as the rest of that night.

But then there was Lando.

And Lando? He hadn’t let it go at all.

If anything, his teasing had gotten worse—relentlessly worse—so subtle yet so constant that it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just the casual smirks anymore, wasn’t just the playful nudges or the remarks that made you roll your eyes and shove him away. It was everything. The way his eyes lingered just a second longer when you spoke, the way his fingers found yours absently when you walked side by side, the way he leaned in just a little too close whenever he whispered something meant only for you.

And Ria?

She noticed everything.

She never said anything outright, never pushed you into admitting anything, but the way she looked at you sometimes—head tilted, lips curled into an amused smile, eyes flickering with knowing—said she had already figured it out. And every time, every single time, you gave her the same answer.

“I’m not in love," you’d mutter, rolling your eyes, shaking your head, pretending like your pulse didn’t quicken, pretending like you didn’t think about it far too often, pretending like Lando wasn’t making sure you fell for him anyway.

The silence of the room pressed in around you, thick and suffocating. The rhythmic rise and fall of Ria’s breath was steady, unbothered by the weight that kept your own eyelids stubbornly open. It had been two nights since sleep last found you, and tonight was shaping up to be no different.

Then, suddenly—light.

The glow of your phone cut through the darkness, harsh against tired eyes. For a moment, you didn’t move, staring at the screen as if expecting it to vanish. But the light remained, unwavering.

A message.

Your stomach tightened. Not just any message.

Lando.

lando u sleepin? cuz i can’t max’s snoring so damn hard

yn can’t sleep either lol

lando u wanna go for walk on the beach??

The absurdity of it barely even registered. A walk at 2 AM? When the rest of the world was either asleep or tangled in the chaos of the lingering night—but, somehow, it made perfect sense. You were so in.

yn yea let’s go

You barely breathed as you stepped through the doorway, moving with careful precision, as if the slightest misstep might shatter the quiet and wake Ria or Max. The apartment was still, save for the faint hum of the city beyond its walls, the distant murmurs of late-night traffic weaving into the silence. You pressed your fingers against the doorframe, guiding it closed with measured patience, and when the soft click finally sounded, you exhaled in relief.

Lando stood beside you, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, his head tilted slightly in amusement as he glanced your way. His smirk—lazy, teasing—played at the edges of his lips, barely visible beneath the dim glow of the hallway light filtering out from inside.

"Think we made it?" he whispered, voice just loud enough for you to hear but quiet enough to keep the stillness intact.

You lifted a hand instinctively, holding it up like you were listening for a signal—some shift, some noise, some indication that you had failed. But everything remained silent, uninterrupted, untouched by your presence. You waited for the inevitable creak of bedsprings, for Max's sleepy complaints, for Ria's sharp curiosity, but nothing came.

Only silence.

Finally, you lowered your hand, a slow grin pulling at the corners of your mouth as you shook your head.

Lando let out a short chuckle, shifting slightly as he rocked on his heels, as if adjusting to the crisp air outside. "We could have just left normally, you know," he mused, tone easy, effortless.

You shot him a flat look, crossing your arms as you stepped further from the door. "Yeah? And risk Ria analyzing our entire existence before we even make it down the street?"

Lando laughed at that, tilting his head in acceptance. "Fair point."

The street stretched ahead of you, quieter now than it had been hours before, when the city had still been alive with movement, with music, with crowds lost in the indulgence of the night. There was something surreal about it—something almost too peaceful, too still—like the world had reset itself while you weren’t looking. The cool breeze brushed against your skin, a sharp contrast to the lingering warmth of the alcohol still settling in your veins.

Lando fell into step beside you, his hands still stuffed into his pockets, his movements relaxed, unconcerned, but the energy between you was different now—charged in a way that made your stomach twist.

"So," Lando mused, kicking a loose pebble across the pavement, watching it skip and tumble down the road. "Are we just walking? Or are we pretending this isn’t weird?"

You scoffed, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets. "It’s not weird. It’s just... spontaneous."

Lando snorted, glancing at you with a raised brow. "Right. ‘Spontaneous.’ That’s what we’re calling it?"

You nudged him with your elbow, rolling your eyes. "Shut up."

The waves rolled in with a quiet rhythm, a soft pulse against the shore, stretching out beneath the moonlight in endless streaks of silver. The night was still, peaceful in a way that felt surreal, as if time had slowed just for the two of you, as if the world had paused long enough for you to finally let yourself feel everything you had been avoiding.

You walked in silence for a while, the cool ocean breeze wrapping around you, carrying the scent of salt and something nostalgic—something that reminded you of summer nights spent chasing moments you never wanted to end. Lando kept pace beside you, hands tucked into his pockets, steps steady and deliberate, like he was waiting for you to speak first, like he knew that this conversation wasn’t one he could force.

But you didn’t say anything. You weren’t ready—not yet.

The sand shifted under your feet, soft and weightless, grounding you in ways you didn’t expect. Lando let out a breath beside you, not impatient, not pushing—just waiting.

And then, finally, he broke the silence.

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

His voice was calm, easy, but something else lay beneath it—something careful, something that wasn’t just teasing, something real.

You inhaled slowly, pretending not to understand, pretending this was just a normal conversation between two friends, the kind that didn’t linger, the kind that didn’t change anything. “About what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, feigning innocence, though you knew he wouldn’t buy it.

Lando scoffed lightly, shaking his head, amusement flickering in his eyes despite the weight of his words. “Stop, you know.”

You were quiet.

Watching the waves pull back, watching them crash forward again—predictable, inevitable, like this.

He sighed, running a hand through his curls, exhaling a short laugh—something small, something he barely let out. “You should admit it.” His tone was lighter now, still teasing, but there was something else beneath it, something steady, something that made your chest tighten.

You frowned slightly, finally turning to meet his gaze. “Admit what?”

His smirk deepened, slow, deliberate, steps measured as if he was guiding you toward an answer you weren’t ready to say out loud.

“That you’re falling for me.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, trying—desperately trying—to keep your pulse steady, to keep your breath even, to keep your face neutral, but none of it worked.

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head like he didn’t believe you for a second.“I don’t have to wish, Y/n,” he murmured, voice easy, confident, frustratingly sure of himself. “You’re already there.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and charged, filled with something that had been lingering in the air for far too long. The ocean’s rhythmic pulse filled the quiet, waves rolling in and out with steady precision, as if mimicking the careful balance you had both been maintaining. The moon hung high above the water, casting silver reflections across its surface, making everything feel softer, making everything feel realer.

You shifted on your feet, forcing a casual shrug, though the weight in your chest told you it wasn’t casual at all. “I could say the same,” you murmured, your voice measured, controlled, desperately trying to maintain the effortless front. “That you need to admit it.”

Lando exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head slightly, eyes glinting with something unreadable beneath the dim light. His smirk—lazy, teasing—was still there, but it had softened at the edges, something else slipping through, something honest, something serious.

“I don’t need to admit it,” he said, voice quieter now, steadier, as if choosing his words carefully. “I’ve already fallen for you.”

He had already said it—put it all out there without hesitation, without fear, without holding anything back. Now, it was your turn. You could see it in the way he looked at you, the quiet patience, the soft expectation, the way he was just waiting for you to say it, waiting for you to give in. And the worst part? You wanted to.

You inhaled sharply, pressing your lips together, willing your pulse to slow, willing your thoughts to steady, but none of it worked. Because the truth was already clawing its way out of you, raw and unfiltered, slipping past your defenses faster than you could stop it.

“Okay—I like you so much,” you admitted, the words tumbling out, rushed and desperate, thick with the weight of everything you had been holding back. Your breath hitched, your fingers curled at your sides, like your body was still trying to fight something your heart had already accepted. “All those jokes, Lando... God, they weren’t just jokes.”

Lando’s expression shifted the moment the words left your lips. His eyes locked onto yours, the quiet patience still there, but now there was something else—something warmer, something realer, something that felt like relief and victory all at once.

“You finally said it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, shaking your head slightly, frustration and disbelief mixing into something unsteady. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Guess I did.”

Lando chuckled softly, stepping a little closer, his fingers brushing against your wrist before curling lightly around it. “And?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his tone teasing but careful, like he wasn’t pushing too hard—just enough to hold onto this moment, just enough to make sure you didn’t run from it.

“And…” you exhaled, searching his face, searching the warmth in his gaze, searching for the courage to just say it properly. “And I’m done pretending.”

Lando smiled then—really smiled. The kind that made your chest tighten, the kind that made it impossible to regret admitting any of this, the kind that told you that, whatever this was, it wasn’t going anywhere.

His hand slid fully into yours, fingers intertwining like they’d been waiting to do so for a long time. “Good,” he murmured. “Because neither am I.”

He was still holding your hand, fingers laced with yours like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he had been doing it forever, like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. The waves continued their steady rhythm in the distance, rolling in and pulling away, but right now, the only thing grounding you was him.

“How do we tell Max and Ria?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice as he tilted his head slightly, studying you like he already knew you were dreading the thought of it.

You groaned, rolling your eyes, even as a small laugh escaped. “God, I don’t even want to think about it,” you admitted, shaking your head. The very idea of telling them sent a wave of anticipation—and, honestly, chaos—crashing into your mind. “Ria is going to freak out, I just know it.”

Lando grinned, shaking his head. “Please, she’s known for months.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, lips pressing together as you considered that for a moment. “Max, maybe,” you conceded. “But Ria? If she knew, she would have said something. She would’ve been obnoxious about it.”

Lando’s laugh was louder now, more certain, like he had already imagined Ria’s reaction in full detail. “You don’t give her enough credit. She was waiting for us to get together.”

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head toward the sky like you were searching for divine intervention. “We could just… never tell them,” you suggested. “Keep it a secret forever. Take it to the grave.”

Lando snorted. “Yeah, sure. Because that worked so well for us before.” His voice dripped with amusement, and before you could argue, he tugged on your hand lightly, pulling you just a little closer, shaking his head at you like you were being ridiculous. “You’re scared of telling them more than you were scared of admitting it to me, aren’t you?”

You huffed, but the way he was looking at you—so effortlessly amused, so endlessly fond—made it impossible to argue. “I’m not scared,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “It’s just… Ugh, it’s going to be a thing, you know?”

Lando smirked, squeezing your hand lightly. “Oh, absolutely. Max is going to make fun of us for at least a week.”

“And Ria will be unbearable for a month,” you groaned.

Lando chuckled, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over the back of your hand. “So, are you gonna do the honors, or should I?”

You groaned again, shaking your head. “Absolutely not. You tell them.”

© norristrii 2025

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - modern!au, kidnapping, stalking, semi-public masturbation, and toxic relationship dynamics.

Thinking about Crime-Lord!Sukuna, who's literally never jerked off. Not before he meets you, at least.

He just doesn't have a reason to. He's never had much of a sex drive, and even in a world without cursed energy, he still finds that he'd rather fight than fuck the grand majority of people he meets. He's not a virgin or anything - a handful of drunken nights with Uraume made sure he wouldn't be carrying around that title for the rest of his life. That doesn't mean he's some loser who needs to have his dick in his hand every five seconds, though. He's got more self-control than that, more dignity.

Or, he's trying to have more dignity. You're so fucking loud - barely bothering to try and hide the fact that you're still crying twenty minutes after he gruffly admitted that you wouldn't be going home, tonight. You've got yourself huddled against the car door, trying to take up as little room on the bench seat you currently share with him as possible. There aren't interior handles, he's got a driver for that kind of shit, but your hand darts out to look for one every couple of minutes, every time the car dips to a speed that might let you jump out relatively unscathed. Like you think he wouldn't be prepared for that. Like you think you're just some unlucky random he decided to haul out of his own goddamn club on a whim.

It's loud. It's annoying. Honestly, it's a little insulting. It's not like you couldn't feel him staring you down every time you stepped into his fucking front-of-a-business, like you hadn't noticed he's only ever in the building when he knows you're already there. It's your own damn fault. If he could trust you not to shake your ass for anyone willing to watch, he wouldn't have had to do this. If he thought you were ever going to pull your head out of the clouds long enough to so much as glance in his direction, he wouldn't have had to force you to.

Like he said - it's annoying. Annoying, and really fucking hot.

He can feel the strain against his slacks, the damp heat crawling down his spine. There's another thirty minutes 'till you get back to his apartment, and every fractured whimper that makes it past your lips is another bolt of agony straight to his cock. You're not going to shut up, so he grits his teeth and bites the bullet - tearing open his fly and freeing his cock. The damn thing was already stiff enough to press into his stomach, to drool over the back of his hand as he clumsily wraps a fist around his shaft. There has to be something wrong with him, with you. He's too sensitive, barely able to flex his hand without feeling the ache in his stomach. Pre-cum drips down his wrist, spilling onto the leather of his seats. Great. Now he has to find time to get the car detailed, too.

He forces his hand to move, pumping robotically from head to base. His attentions moves involuntarily to you, still huddled as far from him as possible, still trying to bite back the little sobs and whines that got him into this, in the first place. The only difference is that, now, your eyes are glued to his lap, your lips parted and your expression horrified. That doesn't help. He pictures you making the same face as he carries you into your new bedroom, all deep velvets and barred windows, as he explains that you're his, now. It's enough to have his cock twitching his hold, demanding friction his awkward, faltering pace can't provide. He curses under his breath, throwing your name into the blend of foul words. It couldn't be enough for you to ruin his fucking life, to force him to spend the last few months on the wrong side of a leash you didn't even know you were holding. No, no, you had to make him humiliate himself while you-

"You're doing it wrong."

When he snaps out of his thoughts, he finds you - now uncurling, brows furrowed in concern and lips pursed. You rest a hand on his bicep, and when he doesn't shove you away, you slide into the seat next to him, wrapping your hand gingerly around his own.

"It's supposed to be, uh, more delicate. With more of an angle." Your voice is light, soft, just a little raspy. There's still a hiccup every now and then, but you seem distracted - a crying child lured out of their tantrum with the introduction of a new, more interesting game. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"Shut the fuck up," he mutters, and you hum, rubbing the pad of your thumb over his tip in slow, deep circles. When you move his hand, it's with intention - slower towards the head, faster towards the base, the heel of your palm grinding into the underside every so often. Sukuna throws his head back, shutting his eyes. You don't seem to notice, thoroughly captivated by your shiny new toy.

He always knew you were going to be the death of him.

He just hadn't thought you'd get around to it so fucking fast.

[genericpuff]

Tbh at this point you should just make your own webcomic app/website because it would probably be 100 times better than whatever going on with webtoon right now.

hahaha it wouldn't tho, sorry 💀

Here's the fundamental issue with webcomic platforms that a lot of people just don't realize (and why they're so difficult to run successfully):

Storage costs are incredibly expensive, it's why so many sites have limitations on file sizes / page sizes / etc. because all of those images and site info have to be stored somewhere, which costs $$$.

Maintenance costs are expensive and get more so as you grow, you need people who are capable of fixing bugs ASAP and managing the servers and site itself

Financially speaking, webcomics are in a state of high supply, low demand. Loads of artists are willing to create their passion projects, but getting people to read them and pay for them is a whole other issue. Demand is high in the general sense that once people get attached to a webtoon they'll demand more, but many people aren't actually willing to go looking for new stuff to read and depend more on what sites feed them (and what they already like). There are a lot of comics to go around and thus a lot of competition with a limited audience of people willing to actually pay for them.

Trying to build a new platform from the ground up is incredibly difficult and a majority of sites fail within their first year. Not only do you have to convince artists to take a chance on your platform, you have to convince readers to come. Readers won't come if there isn't work on the platform to read, but artists won't come if they don't think the site will be worth it due to low traffic numbers. This is why the artists with large followings who are willing to take chances on the smaller sites are crucial, but that's only if you can convince them to use the site in favor of (or alongside) whatever platform they're using already where the majority of their audience lies. For many creators it's just not worth the time, energy, or risk.

Even if you find short-term success, in the long-term there are always going to be profit margins to maintain. The more users you pull in, the more storage is used by incoming artists, the more you have to spend on storage and server maintenance costs, and that means either taking the risk at crowdfunding (ex. ComicFury) or having to resort to outsider investments (ex. Tapas). Look at SmackJeeves, it used to be a titan in the independent webcomic hosting community, until it folded over to a buyout by NHN and then was pretty much immediately shuttered due to NHN basically turning it into a manwha scanlation site and driving away its entire userbase. And if you don't get bought out and try your hand at crowdfunding, you may just wind up living on a lifeline that could cut out at any moment, like what happened to Inkblazers (fun fact, the death of Inkblazers was what kicked off the cultural shift in Tapas around 2015-16 when all of IB's users migrated over and brought their work with them which was more aimed towards the BL and romancee drama community, rather than the comedy / gag-a-day culture that Tapas had made itself known for... now you deadass can't tell Tapas apart from a lot of scanlation sites because it got bought out by Kakao and kept putting all of its eggs into the isekai/romance drama basket.)

Right now the mindset in which artists and readers are operating is that they're trying way, way too hard to find a "one size fits all" site. Readers want a place where they can find all their favorite webtoons without much effort, artists wants a place where they can post to an audience of thousands, and both sides want a community that will feel tight-knit. But the reality is that you can't really have all three of those things, not on one site. Something always winds up having to be sacrificed - if a site grows big enough, it'll have to start seeking more funding while also cutting costs which will result in features becoming paywall'd, intrusive ads, creators losing their freedom, and/or outsider support which often results in the platform losing its core identity and alienating its tight-knit community.

If I had to describe what I'm talking about in a "pick one" graphic, it would look something like this:

(*note: this is mostly based on my own observations from using all of these sites at some point or another, they're not necessarily entirely accurate to the statistical performance of each site, I can only glean so much from experience and traffic trackers LMAO that said I did ask some comic pals for input and they were very helpful in helping me adjust it with their own takes <3).

The homogenization of the Internet has really whipped people into submission for the "big sites" that offer "everything", but that's never been the Internet, it relies on being multi-faceted and offering different spaces for different purposes. And we're seeing that ideology falter through the enshittification of sites like Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, etc. where users are at odds with the platforms because the platforms are gutting features in an attempt to satisfy shareholders whom without the platforms would not exist. Like, most of us aren't paying money to use social media sites / comic platform sites, so where else are they gonna make the necessary funds to keep these sites running? Selling ad space and locking features behind paywalls.

And this is especially true for a lot of budding sites that don't have the audience to support them via crowdfunding but also don't have the leverage to ask for investments - so unless they get really REALLY lucky in EITHER of those departments, they're gonna be operating at a loss, and even once they do achieve either of those things there are gonna be issues in the site's longevity, whether it be dying from lack of growing crowdfunding support or dying from shareholder meddling.

So what can we do?

We can learn how to take our independence back. We don't have to stop using these big platforms altogether as they do have things to offer in their own way, particularly their large audience sizes and dipping into other demographics that might not be reachable from certain sites - but we gotta learn that no single site is going to satisfy every wish we have and we have to be willing to learn the skills necessary to running our own spaces again. Pick up HTML/CSS, get to know other people who know HTML/CSS if you can't grasp it (it's me, I can't grasp it LOL), be willing to take a chance on those "smaller sites" and don't write them off entirely as spaces that can be beneficial to you just because they don't have large numbers or because they don't offer rewards programs. And if you have a really polished piece of work in your hands, look into agencies and publishing houses that specialize in indie comics / graphic novels, don't settle for the first Originals contract that gets sent your way.

For the last decade corporations have been convincing us that our worth is tied to the eyes we can bring to them. Instead of serving ourselves, we've begun serving the big guys, insisting that it has to be worth something eventually and that it'll "payoff" simply by the virtue of gambler's fallacy. Ask yourself what site is right for you and your work rather than asking yourself if your work is good enough for them. Most of us are broke trying to make it work on these sites anyways, may as well be broke and fulfilled by posting in places that actually suit us and our work if we can. Don't define your success by what sites like Webtoons are enforcing - that definition only benefits them, not you.