#and major props if you manage to get through the whole thing!

[emblemxeno]

Definitive “Feelings On 3H” Post

So I’m making one big post on my feelings on major things worth discussing about 3H and how I feel about it. Don’t feel obligated to really interact with this one much, it’s mostly just for my sake, as something I can just link to and say “go to section X about how I feel about Y”.

The reason behind this is I just don’t really want to actively engage in 3H discourse anymore. I feel as if I’m a broken record at this point. If I have new things to say about it somehow, I’ll say it, but for the most part, I’ll refer people to this if they wanna know how I feel about general 3H talk. 

Story

Story Section 1- General narrative feelings on each route.

Azure Moon is, in my opinion, the most solidly constructed route in terms of writing, character development, and storytelling. It knows what it wants to accomplish and, aside from a few gripes, I will always applaud it for that. Verdant Wind and Silver Snow meanwhile, aren’t bad and I certainly didn’t have a terrible time playing through them. However, the unique story bits in each route don’t justify the gameplay experience you have to work through in order to get to them. Still, the big reveals in each route were nice to hear for the first time, and specifically for VW I enjoy Claude very much. Crimson Flower I don’t enjoy that much at all. Its story is what I can only describe as a static, eye-roll inducing victory march, which makes up for its lack of length with its seemingly intentional negative character development; everyone is ignorant, an asshole, or sad as fuck aside from the CF exlcusive cast. I would give the route props had the game bothered to stand in its foundation rather than flounder and make numerous attempts to depict every perspective as absolutely equally valid and righteous. 

Story Section 2- In trying to appeal to every perspective, the game lacks focus, foundation, and respect for itself.

It should be expected that a game with multiple routes tackle different specific subjects. However, in Fire Emblem, there always, always manages to be a unifying theme or foundational story philosophy-an Aesopian type moral if you will-no matter the route. Alm and Celica learn that their one individual philosophies can’t exist on their own, and that leadership requires strength and compassion of equal measure. Eirika and Ephraim learn that personal wishes must take a backseat for the good of Renais and Magvel as a whole, as their routes in FE8 use their own weaknesses to develop them as leaders and royalty. Corrin’s one constant in the Fates games is that conflict is inherently meaningless and does nothing but perpetuate a brutal cycle of hatred, vengeance, and violence. 

Even in games like FE7 and FE10, where the technical ‘route splits’ are more unconventional, there’s still unifying themes that manage to wrap back around at the end (7′s ‘single-minded pursuit of justice and strength/power to protect can actively hurt you and those around you, especially if you are ignorant to the pain others are going through’ and 10′s ‘people have as much capacity to be good as they have to be evil, they will hurt each other due to petty misunderstandings and bigoted views, however, they are worthy of living as they are because of the ability to grow, change, and aspire to something better’).

3H, to put it simply, does not have any grand unifying theme unique to itself. The closest examples I can think of is ‘It’s worth it to reach out to those around you to share your pain so you don’t become engulfed in it’ and ‘no matter what side you fight for, war makes everyday life a living hell for everyone’.

But to me, both of those things are just... basic truths and story elements present in every dialogue heavy FE game. War has been showcased as being terrible since FE1, where characters were held hostage, threatened to fight for a cause they didn’t believe in, innocent villages were destroyed, there was a literal child slave market, etc. And sharing your pain with those close to you in order to bear life’s challenges has been a constant trope with many FE characters, story significant or otherwise, since at least FE6 with Guninivere (probably earlier if I’m missing something from FE4 or 5). The only difference is that 3H has a fun little song to go with it.

That leaves the specific themes of each route and perspective, but because each leading character is so different from the other, and the writers didn’t want to overtly favor one over the rest, every dialogue regarding these things feels compromised; half baked, or lacking a point. 

‘Crests are symbolic of a harmful power structure but also are a symbol of justice used to ward away threats but also are a tool used to gain social and political capital in order to change the world but also are an ancient power obtained through destruction that must be used with wisdom.’ Four different perspectives from four different routes that the game attempts to depict in a balance in almost every single dialogue regarding them. And this same process is applicable to the game’s attempts at discussing race/ethnicity, xenophobia, classism, religious views, mental health, etc. There always has to be two, three, four, or five sides to every story in 3H, and that results in an exhuasting and stretched thin narrative that, in its attempts to appeal to everyone, ends up lacking substance in every point it tries to make.

Now, that itself would make for a fascinating and meta theme for the game to uphold, where ‘attempts at trying to balance and accept every perspective leads to an ineffective world that desperately needs unwavering, unconditional, and compassionate leadership’ but 1) that would require the game to play up the need for ‘seeing every side’ as something to be deconstructed, and the game doesn’t do that, it’s played painfully straight, and 2) when it’s one major power (Edelgard) vs. three major powers (Dimitri, Claude, and Rhea), the attempt at balance fails no matter what you do. This lack of focus reads to me that there was lack of respect for the game’s story itself.

Story Section 3- “It insists upon itself, Lois.”

Every time I think about the finer details of story bits in 3H I don’t care for, my brain always comes back to that Family Guy scene where Peter talks about not caring for The Godfather and saying that it’s because the movie insists upon itself. Now, that was done for comedy, but for 3H I must say that it’s a perfect sentence to use. 3H insists upon itself. This is in spite of the fact that there’s no one unifying point that it’s trying to convey to the player, beyond what any other FE games was able to do. So to make up for that, each small instance reads like the game beating the player over the head with whatever minute moral or lesson it’s trying to convey.

Crests are bad? Roll out the Edelgard, Sylvain, or Lysithea dialogue saying so. Church is sus? Get Edelgard or occasionally Claude. Nobles are pretentious? Get the sad NPCs or the few actual commoner characters to imply it. War is bad and cruel? Fire the next “Sad Dorothea” dialogue at the player’s face. Interactions feel artificial, ostentatious even. Part of that is because there’s no other way to get these points across due to Byleth being a silent avatar, the other part though? Feels as if the writers were overtly proud of themselves. “Wow, the war means Bernadetta leaves her room more often, isn’t that a sign that it really changes people?” Yeah, no shit. 

Perhaps the most egregious example is the endless instances of the game pushing the idea that there’s “no good side” in war or that “war is a battle of ideals and no one is fully correct” or other moments that want the player to know how deep and Morally Gray the narrative is. It’s cheap and inauthentic, especially when you have a faction like the Slithers. You can’t prop up Gray Morality and have an inarguably evil underground terrorist group. 

To be crude, this game explains things to you like you’re five despite being rated T for teens in a series catered mostly to young adults. I get the point you’re trying to make, you did it poorly, now stop repeating yourself, your final grade is a D+.

Story Section 4- 3H likes spectacle over substance.

3H revels in being showy over being constructive. There’s great moments, but there’s not a great plot. 

For example, Byleth has many flashy moments that show how awesome they are! They’re connected to a goddess, they can wind back time, they have a super cool historical sword, they’re a top tier mercenary, they’re a great teacher, they’re next in line for Archbishop or the throne for all of Fodlan, their Crest is the game’s version of the Fire Emblem!

Cool! What’s the significance behind all these choices in the writing room? Seemingly next to nothing other than it sounded cool. That’s how it feels anyway.

The SotC doesn’t do anything in the story beyond be Sothis’ bones, likewise the Crest of Flames is nothing other than symbolic since it lacks gameplay or story significance beyond “main characters have it”, Divine Pulse has weak narrative justification for what should be a simple gameplay exclusive rewind, the goddess in question is an underutilized character who checks out before part 1 ends, there’s no gameplay basis showcasing that they’re any better at fighting than their students, and every high level position Byleth is granted makes no sense for them to have given what little established character we get.

That’s 3H in a nutshell. Crests don’t matter other than to be a story device. Being noble or commoner doesn’t matter. The hidden technology doesn’t matter. Abyss is a joke. And on and on and on. 3H profits off of being enticing and cool looking for the sake of it, without actually utilizing or explaining any of this flashy stuff that matters for a video game medium. It makes for underwhelming gameplay and artificial characters. Example, for as much as I love Yuri, take a few minutes to read his backstory; it’s batshit and nigh unbelievable. And it’s indicative of the fact that 3H cares more about including things that sound cool than it does about making sense of anything. We see the impact, but never any material significance, which is the opposite of what you want in a detail oriented narrative like this.

Story Section 5- 3H has very gross tropes.

During 3H’s first year of being out, I desperately wanted to stay true to a view that “hey now, just because it’s depicted like this, doesn’t mean we should blast it, it’s just a video game” but, y’know. I grew up. And part of growing up is recognizing the nuanced parts of these kinds of things. 

I won’t accuse the writers of being actively ignorant or bigoted, cuz I don’t know anything about them. But fuck. Fuck, does this game read worse and worse over the years in terms of how utterly terribly it handles sensitive issues.

Multiple brown characters treated like trash by the white/pale majority, with countries said brown characters hail from described as savage and animalistic. Rampant misogynistic tropes, most notably selling women off to be married. Strange, and incessant sympathy for the character starting a war that upends the lives of common people, said character also allowing human experimentation to occur. The offensive and archaic handling of mental illnesses, specifically anxiety disorders, personality disorders, and PTSD in certain instances (IMO only Dimitri and Marianne are done with any sort of grace). And that’s just the explicit stuff! Just the other day I was talking about how there’s incredibly disturbing anti-Semitic undertones regarding the Empire (confirmed to be based on Germany btw) and the Nabateans, something that’s, at times, uncritically repeated by people in this game’s community. This game is mired in terrible allegories and metaphors, which make me cringe the more I think about the real world implications that these lines of thought can have on people in volatile corners of the Internet.

And the kicker is that the writers are so committed to making these things relate to Crests or nobility, as if either of those things are strictly the reason why oppression or discrimination occurs.

The game employs drastic harmful stereotypes, and undercuts all of them by foisting its half-baked unique gameplay/lore toy onto the conversations. It fumbles the ball and didn’t even clean up the mess well.

Characters

I have a tier list of how much I enjoy the characters right here. 

Long story short, when the characters are good, they’re good. Like, holy fuck, love them. But when they’re bad? Throw them away. Can’t stand them. And sometimes characters fall in the middle where I see the good but they’re at times written in ways that piss me off.

Worldbuilding/Setting - More is not always better

First off, when you make a character tell the player “Go read in the library for lore”, you’ve lost me. There’s nothing fun and interesting in 3H as a game for you to read in the library.

Fire Emblem’s gameplay cycle doesn’t mesh too well with the typical JRPG standard of storytelling, so the common solutions to building the world and crafting the stories was 1) make as much use as possible of cutscenes, art/cgs, and narrations to communicate the important details before and after battles and/or 2) make an intuitive inclusion to ‘break the pace’ between maps, such as a home base, in order to supplement what’s already present. Alongside this, support conversations were an ingenious tool to develop the characters and the world at the same time, as your varied and quirky cast can help you infer what their place of origin is like. Plus, the game actively rewards the player for seeking this auxiliary information out, granting extra stat bonuses when you purposefully put characters next to each other.

3H, on paper, understands this well. However, the game has too many minute details for a typical FE game structure to handle. The devs themselves even said the game became a “living creature on its own” and claimed no one on the team knows everything about 3H’s story or world. Ignoring how that’s a serious flaw for a video game narrative, what this ultimately means is that since cutscnes and a standard base can’t cut it, we need more and more and more. Libraries, side quests, tea time, ally notes, gifts, NPCs that exposit at you, etc. The DLC even added another damn library for you to sift through, as if the first one wasn’t a pain already.

And though these little flavor texts, landmarks, and set pieces are fun to read about... that’s it. The game hardly uses any of it. It’s flavor without substance, once again. It’s why half the fucking fandom is confused every other day when you bring up these tertiary details as evidence to prove a point, since the active story is too busy trying to weave the other 600 plot threads together to use any of it. That means, for all of this supposed great details regarding each nation and the important territories, we hardly see a damn thing that’s actually different. More is not always better, and in this case, it’s actively worse for both the game experience and the community experience. Not a good look for a game that the devs explicitly wanted people to talk to each other about.

As a fan of FE ever since 2013, who has gone back to play several of the games to see how they tick, 3H’s methods of describing its setting are just so antithetical to what makes the series enjoyable, and for so little reward. It sounds hypocritical given that I love Fates and Engage, but those games actively set up their glorified bases to be as unintrusive as you want them to be. 3H, however, has its gameplay built around a boring and unintuitive cycle.

Gameplay- Fire Emblem but half the time you’re not playing Fire Emblem

Gameplay Section 1-Monastery

The monastery is the most debated gameplay aspect of 3H, and IMO, for good reason.

It sucks.

Worldbuilding wise, while it makes sense that an important location is the hub for the game, that doesn’t account for how dull it is. 12 months and 4 seasons pass and does the place ever look different? No. A shame, since an improved aesthetic would drastically help ignoring the fact that the place is a bitch to traverse. For as fast as Byleth can run, they can’t outspeed the load times. Quick travel only makes the issue more apparent, as well. From door to door, and from week to week, you’ll endure more load times in one in-game month than an entire playthrough of a GBA FE game.

The other aspects of the monastery gameplay, such as teaching, activities, professor level, and motivation, while freshly fun in a first playthrough, become a repetitive slog in subsequent playthroughs. Giving gifts and lost items, eating meals, planting the right things for the garden, optimizing support point gains, using the sauna, taking care of the statues, etc. This cycle is not something I enjoy in an FE game, and unlike Fates or Engage, I can’t actively ignore it without huge penalty. 

You can skip right to each main mission, but you’d be giving yourself a huge handicap by doing so; not actively teaching students at max motivation in order to maximize skill point gain is a huge detriment in the long term. It means longer wait for better weapons, longer wait for better spells, longer wait for class change, and longer wait for better skills and battalions. Now on Normal you can get away with this, not as much on Hard, and sure the fuck not on Maddening. To me, it feels like sloppy balancing on top of an already exhausting and dull game cycle. Why let the player skip months if you didn’t bother to carefully balance the game so that the players who do skip months could have even a small chance to clear the game? Honestly, it just feels as if they thought “people might find it annoying so let’s just tack on a skip feature”, and that’s disappointing and lazy.

Overall, I hope nothing similar to the monastery’s implementation is included in any future Fire Emblem game. It’s too antithetical to FE’s main gameplay structure, IMO.

Gameplay Section 2-Battles

To be honest, Fire Emblem has never been the pinnacle of balanced gameplay, and frankly I don’t want it to be. It’s a single player game with fun anime sword guys, magic powers, and dragons. So long as it’s not dreadfully easy or overly complicated, I have no qualms about certain classes or characters being better or worse than others.

3H though is a mess. A fun mess, but still a mess. Movement decrease to foot units means you want a mount cuz the game’s maps are big, and the speed penalty for cav classes means you want a wyvern or a pegasus. Physical units do just that (or maybe War Master for Quick Riposte), you get your dancer, have a Stride unit, have your Magic units and warpers where you need them, and congrats! You solved the 3H meta. 

Half-joking, honestly. The game is extremely easy to break, the hardest part is getting to that point (after all, slugging through the monastery is a bigger test of your patience than anything else). Maddening mode, of course, you have be extra careful in the beginning (cuz they probably didn’t play test it cough cough) and utilize your combat arts and gambits effectively, and being extremely conscious of positioning. But, much like Awakening before it, 3H is very easy to snowball. Especially on NG+. That doesn’t mean it’s not fun, but it can get mindless. I don’t personally play that way, but even still, tools such as weapons mostly not being class restricted, Crests, combat arts, gambits, and accessories make the game incredibly simple. It’s a breeze, and only gets harder when certain things are stripped away from you or your debilitated somehow. Again, it’s still fun, because FE is always fun, but challenging? No. Not in a way that I find meaningful, anyway.

The maps themselves? Meh. They look pretty! Lots of small missable details that you wouldn’t see if not for the zoomed in view, that was a neat feature. Not at all useable for actually playing the game, of course, but fun to mess with and to sight see. It does make me resentful, cuz again, we could’ve potentially seen lots of rich, detailed, and varied locations bustling with townsfolk and entering villages to really feel each location. But alas, this is as good as we get.

Anyway, the maps are...fine-ish? Part 1′s maps are seared into my brain, for better and for worse (mostly worse) cuz you have to play them at least 3 different times for all the routes. Prologue through Chapter 5 are either boring, terrible, or both. Chapter 6 is the first map on my most recent playthrough that I say I had fun with in Part 1, then it continues for 7 and 8, then nosedives for 9 and 10, before picking back up for 11 and 12. In short, more than half the story maps for part 1 I find are either unexceptional or plain bad.

Now Part 2? Hunting By Daybreak is atrocious, Garreg Mach defense is pretty fun, Ailell is boring as fuck, Myrddin Bridge and Deirdru are good, Gronder Part 2 ebbs and flows between being awesome and awful, Merceus, Enbarr, and Fhirdiad are okay but tend to drag, Tailtean is alright, Shambhala is hot garbage, CF endgame is pretty fun, AM endgame is okay, VW endgame is awesome, Snow endgame is terrible. I think all routes’ part 2 is better than part 1, but not by much.

All of Cindered Shadows is peak, every map was good IMO.

Paralogue maps I have no opinions on, they are recycled maps with nothing meaningfully interesting about them that I remember aside from Dedue’s, Ashe’s, and Petra’s. 

In short, the battle maps in 3H are okay for FE standards. It’s just pretty fucking insane how many times they get reused, so I got tired of them very quickly.

Fandom

Last but not least, just a shoutout to a very unpleasant community experience. Though it might be the best selling FE game as of now, it comes with the price of having some incredibly disrespectful, vicious, and ignorant fans.

Never have I been witness to or been the target of as much harassment on the internet as I have with certain 3H fans. Entire discord servers made to make fun of groups of people with differing opinions, taking over old blog domains to mock people, deliberately seeking out people who want nothing to do with you just so you can defend your favs, etc. And that’s just on this site! There’s editing wars on TV tropes and the wikis, mods on various sites having to do deleting sprees of 3H discourse, artists being harassed on Twitter, and in general just... inserting yourselves into places and spaces where you were not invited nor encouraged to comment. Some of these people lack basic human deceny, respect, and boundaries, and it’s not cool.

Part of the reason why I’m breaking away from 3H now is because this behavior is something I got wrapped up in too, and I’m deeply ashamed of it. It’s toxic, and not at all something I want associated with one of my favorite video game series anymore. I got real life things to worry about and other games to play.

-

Anyway, that’s pretty much it. All of my general thoughts on 3H, localized on one post. Sayonara, Fodlan Discourse, you won’t be missed. 🤗

[no-where-new-hero]

Fire and Hemlock Readalong: Day 13 (Part 3, Ch. 1)

...in which Polly goes to Bristol.

A lot happens in this chapter! We begin Part 3, Where Now?, which starts striking notes of unease, with its lost-seeming question mark. The musical notation for this part translates literally to "cheerfully with fire"--the fire of Fire and Hemlock, we can assume--but, according to my musical website, "the more appropriate translation would be 'passionately.'" Passion blooms out into the text most directly in this part, where it had only been hinted at earlier on.

In the beginning, Polly finally starts reading The Golden Bough, and I wish I had more intelligent things to say about it, but I tried to read it a few years ago and gave up in despair. Major props to Polly for getting through as many chapters as she does! The only two subjects that I recognize as cogent to Polly and Tom's curse is "Sympathetic Magic"--which I've argued that Polly has wielded already and will come to wield again--and "Kings killed at the end of a fixed term," which I think refers to Mr. Leroy. "Tabooed things" definitely seems relevant though that might just play into the rules and transgressions that surround Polly.

We also meet Joanna in this chapter, who I'm beginning to notice is another flavor of detestable older woman. She resembles Laurel in her chilly politeness and surface charm and perfectly harmonizes with Reg's desire to skitter over the surface of life and not dig into all the shit that's going on between him and Polly. @ksfoxwald very insightfully pointed out that Ivy's lack of imagination is what keeps her believing in a false reality that she cobbled together, and Reg's attitude to life comes across very similarly. He persists in believing in that the bad things will go away if you ignore them but can't make a sympathetic imaginative leap to consider what a dreadful position this puts Polly in.

(I'm a bit confused at Polly's insistence that Mr. Leroy is responsible for her plight when--as of now--there's no hint of Tom in the picture, so there would be no need for Mr. Leroy to take revenge. Unless it's just her hopeful sublimation of real life horrors into the manageable horrors of fairyland.)

Polly also comes to grips with her feelings for her father in this chapter. Already she's exasperatedly understood that she cannot be her mother's daughter, and clearly here, she knows she can't be her father's. She has outgrown both her parents and is old enough to hold onto her bleaching shame (one of my favorite descriptions in the whole book--so relatable!) but that means she's left alone, half-grown, in a hostile grown-up world. Polly is still able to bend this world to her own wishes, as she's not entirely powerless. In a way, she practically summons Tom to her aid, even though it also feels a lot like coincidence. But it also foreshadows that her unheroic shame is strong enough to throw her off-course (if here only momentarily).

[humorisstoredinthetits]

Heathers Pokemon Au Part 2 (1/?)

So this is a continuation of my earlier post about this AU, I'm most likely not gonna end up writing anything about this bc my writing skills are pretty bad but I have way too many ideas so I'm just gonna write them down here

So the Heathers plus Veronica are just traveling around the region on their journey going to places for their own paths

Chandler is looking for Gyms, Duke for Ranger Stations and Mac for Contest Halls

Veronica doesn't really know what she wants to do and she figures that somewhere along the way she'll figure it out

In reality she can't focus on her future bc of how badly things are going with Martha, she knows she screwed up big time and doesn't know how to fix it, in addition to the weird love triangle between her, the Heathers and JD and that she actually doesn't know what she wants to do

From here I'm gonna go over the 3 major plot lines, its kinda like Scarlet and Violet where they'res 3 lines that each follow one of the friends (or in Veronica's case future girlfriends)

Gyms:

Like usual there are 8 gyms and once you beat them you challenge the Elite 4 and if you manage to beat them you challenge the Champion

Each Gym has a puzzle or task before you can challenge the leader, each one is set by the League to ensure that the Trainers coming through have the skills to be able to make it

Each Leader or E4 member is another musical character bc why not

The 1st is in Tudor City, home of the Ghost-Type Leader Anne Boleyn

She's part of a group of trainers called 'The Six' who each pretend to be the ghost of a wife of an ancient Galarian King who have risen from the dead due to unfinished business

They have shows where they hold a tournament between themselves to see who gets to be the Gym Leader until the next show

Imagine WWE but with Pokemon battles instead of wrestling

So when the gang gets to the city Anne happens to be the one whose won the most recent tournament

For her task Chandler has to help out for the next show, like help set up props, maintenance etc. to show thats she's willing to put in the hard work to live this kind of life and not just take the easy path

She complains, like alot

She thinks its stupid and beneath her and bitches and moans but she does end up doing it

Anne's Team (This and every other team is at their peak, just de-evolve the pokemon and remove as necessary to get the gym teams): Polteageist, Cofagrigus, Ceruledge, Mega Gengar, Mismagius, Aegislash

Swords bc get it thats how she died and Gengar and Mismagius bc she's more on the playful side of Ghost-Types, not all broody like Catherine of Aragon

Chandler wins but just barely, she didn't realize that this was gonna be this hard and she knows its gonna take a whole lot more work than she's been giving it

Bc of her need to always be the best this is where she starts pushing her pokemon harder than she should

Next is Washington City (very original ik) with the Normal-Type Leader Alexander Hamilton

Hamilton used to be an Elite Four member but bc of a scandal involving his wife he was demoted to Gym Leader while his rival, Aaron Burr, was promoted

He's just the teeniest tiniest bit salty about that

The puzzle is a quiz, but bc Hamilton made it its really hard and unnecessarily complicated, the idea being that a Pokemon Trainer must have the knowledge for many situations, bc being a Trainer is unpredictable

Chandler fails, obviously, she's out of school why does she have to take more tests

The other Heathers force her to sit down and prepare, with no small amount of bitching and promises of Corn Nuts

She takes it again and passes, thank Arceus

Hamilton's Team: Smeargle, Oranguru, Exploud, Mega Lopunny, Porygon-Z, Braviary

Smeargle bc writing, Exploud bc Hamilton can't keep his damn mouth shut, Lopunny bc its mega ability is Scrappy, just like his country, and Braviary bc Merica fuck yeah and the rest just bc

Next is Middlebrough City with the Electric-Type Leader, Jeremy Heere

He used to be under the tutelage of one of the E4, a man who goes only by 'The SQUIP' but it turns out he was making Jeremy do shit he didn't really want to and other heinous acts he broke free

But bc the SQUIP has connections and money he didn't lose his job

His puzzle is a little personal, using technology and his Alolan Raichu he scans their traveling companions and makes holograms to try and convince them to do things they otherwise wouldn't want to do, because a good trainer should be able to recognize when a situation is bad and get themselves out of it

Its a little messed up but Jeremy knows the importance of using your brain and thinking

So the trainers are told that the puzzle is just talking to their friends bc they want to see how they get along

There are images of Duke, Mac and Veronica all trying to convince Chandler to take some pill that promises to make her popular, even more so than before, that it will make it effortless, but Chandler resists

(Im not super proud of that one, I just couldn't come up with any other ideas)

Jeremy's Team: Eleketross, Toxtricity-LK, Electrivire, Mega Manetric, Alolan Raichu and Magnezone

His team was really hard, theyre arent alot of techy Electric Types

Next is Westview City with the Grass-Type Leader, Evan Hansen

The Leader position used to be held by his friend, Connor, but he did what he did in canon, leaving the position to his only friend, the only person he felt like cared about him as a person

Evan took it really hard and it took some time but he eventually accepted both what had happened and the role

The puzzle is to write a reflection letter on how your journey had gone so far, because now was the halfway mark, and its important for trainers to look back on where they've been

Its something that Evan wishes Connor would've done, to see all the people who did honestly care about him

Chandler thinks this is stupid AF and tries to get Veronica to do it but she refuses

Her first draft is really bad, its along the lines of "ive learned this is stupid and that im the best, signed Queen HC"

On her second draft they all sit down with her and talk, and the other Heathers talk about how their lives have been changed because of her and what shes done for them

Duke talks about how uncaring she was, just kinda floating through life before they met and Chandler added spice to the mix, and gave her something and someone to care about

Mac reminds her of how they met in Kindergarten, about how no one wanted to be friends with the weird autistic girl who talked about My Little Ponyta all the time and how lonely she was but then she came up to her on her own volition and wanted to be her friend and how much that meant to her

Its around here Veronica's illusion of the Heathers being untouchable is shed completely, sure she knows the solid teflon isn't as solid as it may appear but she didn't realize how flimsy the facade actually was

She's also struck by the similarity between how Chandler and Mac met and how her and Martha met

The new letter actually makes Evan cry

Evan's Team: Tropius, Torterra, Trevenant, Mega Sceptile, Abomasnow, Exeggutor

They're all trees, need I say more

Next is 'Camp' Half-Blood Village, with the Water-Type Leader Percy Jackson

Yes I know its not really a musical but there is a PJO musical so it counts, screw the rules I have money

Percy and his rival Luke used to be friends and fellow gym leaders

Luke taught Percy pretty much everything he knows about being a Trainer, he was his mentor and someone he looked up to like a Brother, that is until he was given the opportunity to become a E4 member if he just took care of an issue

That issue being his friend Annabeth, who was getting a little too close to figuring out what was really going on at the Pokemon League

Percy defeated Luke in a battle and saved Annabeth, but was succesfully scared into silence, or at least being more sneaky with whats going on

His puzzle is to go on a Killer Quest, where they send Chandler out into the woods with nothing but her Pokemon and she needs to make it through the night, the point being that there won't always be a Pokemon Center and she might have to spend the night in the woods, which Chandler had avoided so far bc if anyone sees her without her beauty sleep and 10 pounds of makeup she will lose it

She is of course, pissed off, and she takes it out on her Pokemon, who have had enough of her shit, especially with the hellish training, and refuse to listen and help her with building a camp or getting food

Eventually they have a heart to heart about it and she understands how she was hurting her pokemon and vows to do better as their Trainer

Percy's Team: Palafin, Empoleon, Azumarill, Mega Swampert, Samurott, Kingdra

[sularis]

The library I used to study in had many secrets, which for some reason I could see happen in bright daylight or in chilling moonlight. It frightened me at first to see blurry caricatures of spirits pass between the alleys or searching for a book they desired to read, but the more I spent in that place, the clearer I could see them, hear them.

Overbloom library was the only library in my city that was both close to my apartment and I could easily get to there from my university. It wasn’t very popular, probably due to being very old, but it still had few loyal patrons who visited it regularly. I wouldn’t have guessed I’d become one of them, until my first exam was around the corner. I remember entering it at five in the afternoon and seeing a middle-aged gentleman greet me with a warm smile. The air inside smelled of amber and aged papers, it felt incredibly welcoming, as if I just entered a place I could call a second home.

After I told the owner why I had come there, he enthusiastically clapped his hands and showed me around the place. From the moment we started walking, I could sense something wasn’t quite right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. He walked me through majority of isles, even showed me how to get on the platforms high above us, which was indeed sweet of him. Once my tour was over, the man showed me a cozy corner in which I could study as much as I pleased. With a thankful bow I left my bag on one of the seats and began venturing around alchemy isles and picking the books I thought would have everything I needed to know for my exam. That’s when I started spotting weird shadows creeping around the corner, hiding when I turned my head around. As spooky as it was, I decided not to mind it and continued doing what I came there to do. Throughout my whole session I heard incomprehensible whispers around me and saw gusts of darkness emerge and then once again disappear into the shelves. I don’t know how I managed to stay in there until ten in the night, but after checking out I made it clear to myself that I will not be returning there for the life of me.

Well was I wrong.

I nailed the exam I was preparing for with some additional points and props from my headteacher thanks to the knowledge I got from the old books in that library. Everyone in my year kept asking me how I managed that with our professor, when he often took points away when even just one name of a herb was spelled incorrectly. I shared with them where I studied for that exam and they all looked back petrified at me.Turns out what I saw at the library wasn’t just one-time kind of thing, it’s been all that library’s known for. Everyone who I knew avoided it and by the end of it they all told me to do as they as well. They’d tell me that the more you stay there the angrier the spirits get, some claimed that your spirit will get trapped there as the others if you check in regularly. Apparently none of the ghosts could be recognised even by the experts, who specified in spirit sighting. That’s why many stayed away from that establishment, from fear of the unknown.

But the more they shared their terrifying testimonies with me, the more curious about the situation at that place I was. Right after my last class I got into the trolley and went right down to that library. When I entered the smell of amber once again overwhelmed my senses and brought me a feeling of being welcomed. The middle-aged gentleman looked surprised when he saw me at his place again, but greeted me warmly nevertheless. Without any hesitation I asked him whether the legends about this place were true, I recalled what I saw and heard when I last stayed here and what my friends said. As he listened his smile gradually faded from his face and a solemn expression replaced it. Once I was done, he sighed helplessly and replied with “So that’s what they think of this place...”. He then patiently explained to me what was going on.

His grandfather founded it back when he first moved into what was once a small town named Lischtenver. Every book that occupies the shelves was brought in by him or later his son - the current owner’s father. Back then, that place flourished with many visitors, even some from overseas, coming to see and get a grasp of the collection his grandfather had to his name. It was so popular even mystical beings sometimes showed up after hours, he welcomed them warmly as well. The man said “He had this saying: ‘No matter who, no matter where from, as long as they yelp for knowledge they’re welcome to stay as long as they wish.’ Some, apparently took it a bit too much to heart.” He told me that his grandfather wasn’t sure when, but one day he noticed lost souls wandering through his establishment. They weren’t clear in anyway, but they observed the shelves with high curiosity. More and more of them started appearing as the time went by and many of them wouldn’t leave once they settled in. His grandfather didn’t mind and took them in, as they wouldn’t be much of an expense for him anyways and over time, he could see them more clearly, he could spot details in their faces and he could hear them, interact with them. He grew close to them and so they did to him, but the presence of the dead wasn’t as warmly welcomed by others. Many weren’t understanding about the ghosts and did everything in their power to distance themselves from any contact with them, some went as far to try and get rid of them for good, but the owners all as the decades went by stood for the ghosts and wouldn’t kick them out, as they had become an important part of the library’s society. Due to this, the more ghosts appeared, the less living people wanted to go to that library, which ended up in it becoming very quickly the least visited place in the city. Many bigger, better libraries took its position and what they were left with was ghosts and few patrons, not afraid to stay in with them.

When I asked him who were the ghosts roaming the place, he said he didn’t know. “They all come here as lost souls, only knowing their name and how old they were when they died, but even that sometimes isn’t clear to them. It depends how long they were dead for and how much consciousness they still have. It appears to me that they’ve all come here to figure out what exactly could’ve happened to them since the ones who seemed to figure it out hadn’t been seen around here for a while.” With that explanation, I looked down into one of the isles, catching a glimpse of a shadow hiding from my sight. “They’re shy” the man said “They had a lot of going on for them over the years. Many people yelling at them and disturbing their peace - they’ve grown wary of the living.” 

I’m unsure what I had in my mind at the time, but something told me to stay. Stay and at least see what happens. And so I did.

From that day on I visited the library as often as I could, walking through the isles, looking for the spirits and slowly getting more used to the always present sense of being watched. After my classes, I only would go there, apart from weekends, as they were reserved for social activities with my friends. The owner was very touched by the fact that I wanted to learn more and possibly help the spirits find themselves among the pages of old books they so often stared at, he hadn’t seen many people my age be so eager to do that. And I myself was very happy to have a nice place to spend my free time in, although it wasn’t my home per say, it gave me a sense of belonging I haven’t felt in a while. I grew more and more familiar with the dark shadows, silhouettes appearing in the corner of my eyes and I could even differentiate between whispers of certain souls. I was getting adapted to being there and they were starting to get adapted to me as well.

One day, as I was heading once more towards the alchemy section of the library, I noticed a dark shadow standing alone in one of the isles. It didn’t disappear when I looked at it, so I got curious and slowly wandered towards it. Before I knew I was standing right beside it and trying to determine what they were looking at. Not being sure, I asked “Which one would you like to read?”. With slight hesitation, the shadow stretched one of its arms and pointed at a book named “Secrets of orchids” written by Leyroy Farfender. I took the book into my hand and looked at the cover. A horror novel, depicting gruesome body-horror of orchids growing out of skulls of liars, causing the person terrible pain, but pulling them out would mean instant death to them, as they would pull out their brain. “You wrote this?” I asked the shadow. A hushed, but saddened voice responded: “I never got to finish it...”. In that moment, before me was standing a see through silhouette of a man in max his late forties, with the roots of his hair being grey, while the rest was still in a beautiful, dark brown shade. His clothes were from at least fifty years ago, seemed like they were what he was buried in.

“I was in the middle of writing it, but an illness overcame me and forced me to succumb to death... They published it even when it wasn’t complete... I never got to write the ending... The ending...” he repeated the last part a few more times before I was able to compose myself enough to find a proper response.

“What did you want to write as an ending?” I asked while clutching his book to my chest. He looked at me meaningfully for a moment, but before long he lowered his head once again.

“There’s no point in doing so now... The novel was already published... What would it change?...” with that, he turned around and disappeared into thin air.

A new sense of sadness and excitement filled me on the inside from that encounter. I returned to my studies with sympathy for the poor man, who had big plans for his book, but wasn’t able to fulfill them in his lifetime. But even with the sadness that event brought me, it gave me a sense of accomplishment. After all, it was the first time I had a full out conversation with a spirit and got something from it. I wanted to learn more about the man, so before checking out I rented “Secrets of orchids” and decided to engulf myself in the lecture of it.

I didn’t realise just how grossly creative Mr. Farfender had been when writing it, as much as the first few chapters gave me the sense of uneasiness, the rest of the book caused me nausea from just the mention of that horrid flower. And as Mr. Farfender told me, the book ended on a cliffhanger that would never be explained to anyone anymore. The last few pages were filled with reviews of the book in the place of an ending. Many of them showed disappointment with the fact that they will never know what happened to the poor fool with flowers sticking out of his head, a lot of them criticised people for even letting this book out when it was unfinished. That must’ve been the cause for his poor state when I asked him about it. I wanted to make things right.

I returned to the isle I first talked with him with and called out to him. He didn’t respond at first, but after few more tries, he suddenly appeared in front of me. “What is it that you want, young lass?” he asked in the same solemn tone I last heard of him. I explained to him that I’ve read his book and was simply dying to know what happened to the main character. He looked at me with suspicion in his eyes, after which he asked me a bunch of questions about the book. I answered all of them flawlessly, all while watching as his eyes begin to beam with more and more happiness than I’ve ever seen.

“Oh, you’ve read it!... You’ve read it all!...” he exclaimed as he grinned widely at me, his loud voice could be heard throughout the whole library “And you’ve liked it!... Or so it seems, you truly liked it!...”

He clasped his hands together, his joyous expression lighting up the whole room. In both metaphorical and literal ways too, as his see-through being, before appearing dark-grey and shady, now beamed in a delicate but bright pastel baby blue, making him a somewhat of a light source in my closest vicinity. Seeing him be this ecstatic made me feel a pleasant warmth inside my heart.

“Would you be so kind to tell me, what happened to the poor boy with orchids, sir?” I asked him the moment I got the chance to. He hesitated and looked at me warily, but soon after a warm smile appeared on his face.

“You really want to hear it, lass... I suppose... I won’t leave you in the dark, no more...” he said very softly, almost as if he was whispering, after which he walked pass me, towards where I came to search for him from. Without a word I knew he wanted me to follow him, and so I did.

We made our way to the table I usually sat at, he visibly knew where I hang out most already, if he hadn’t learned it himself other must have told him. We sat down next to each other and his tale began. As if he had repeated everything in his head for the last fifty or so years, he lead me through the last chapters of his book flawlessly. His voiced was perfectly suited for narration, it allowed me to easy daze off and see everything happening as he said in my mind, to the exact detail. I don’t know at what point I closed my eyes but the next moment I opened them, I could see a bunch of new faces around us, some young some old but all were fixated on us - him to be precise. Before I knew it I could count more than thirty new spirits joining us in this tale-telling thing, they all crowded to look at us, some inspected me curiously while others grasped their chests listening to the solemn tale of the poor fool, deciding his own fate once and for all. The book had a saddening ending, with the main character plucking the orchids out of his skull on the front door of his lover’s cabin. All we know what happened later was a yelp for help before everything cut to darkness and silence. He died.

Once Mr Farfender was done telling the story, a broad applause filled the space. Only then has he realised what kind of public has his storytelling brought him. I was clapping my hands with teary eyes myself. The man stood up from his seat and with genuine smile he bowed to his listeners, thanking them for allowing him to bring his story to a closing after so many years. Before I knew it, he turned towards me and locked his sight with mine and in that moment I felt a disconnection from my body and saw myself being in a different room, with Mr. Farfender still looking at me with the same meaningful gaze. We were now in what it seemed to be a study, it was dimly lit, with main light source being the large fireplace to the right of me. Suddenly, I felt myself beginning to drift upwards, being able to view the room from above now. Mr. Farfender didn’t follow me as I flew up, he had his gaze fixed on someone who was occupying my previous position. It was a young child, no older than ten, sitting in front of him, staring at him with sparkly eyes.

“Papa, can you tell me one more story before bed? Pretty please!” the little girl pleaded to the man sitting in front of her “One more!”

The man let out a soft chuckle.

“Mm, since you’re asking so nicely, we should be able to fit one more story before it’s time for you to head to bed”.The little girl jumped in excitement, all of her body was smiling towards the man as she sat comfortably in her chair and prepared herself to listen to his tales. 

Wherever we, well now only I, was it most definitely wasn’t a reality, at very least not the one I knew about. Everything looked very real, Mr. Farfender wasn’t a ghost and so wasn’t the little girl, but the atmosphere and the way I could see them felt almost dream-like. As if I was watching him relive a very dear memory, one he just now rediscovered.

He began telling his story, it was very child friendly, unlike what he wrote for the public. He told her a story of a group of kittens getting lost in an unfamiliar area, unsure how to get back where they came from nor who to trust to be able to find home. “We have to stick together!” one kitten said, “Should we go and try to find mom?” other asked as he looked around, “Let’s stay here!” next one yelped. They kept on arguing as to what to do and wouldn’t notice how much of an attention they were bringing to themselves. People watched them with great amusement, some laughed at their tomfoolery, others kept on questioning who these kittens belonged to and if they were for sale. Soon enough one person grabbed one of them, taking her away from her siblings, other people followed through. They took the ones that they liked the most, not caring about their cries as they were to never see their siblings or their mom again. Eventually, everyone left with one kitten to look after, give a new home to, but there was an issue. One was left. It was weak, could barely walk, barely blink, no one wanted it, so they left it to die on that street, all alone.The drift brought me down beside the man, perfectly so I could hear the rest of the story.

“What happened to the weak kitten, papa?” the little girl asked with a worried voice. Leyroy gave her the same warm smile he gave me back in the library.

“Well, the night came over the city, it got cold on the street, the poor little kitten was cold, all alone. It started meowing in search of some familiar voice, but it didn’t hear a thing. Defeated it laid curled up, trying to keep whatever warmth it had to itself. Suddenly, though, it felt a pull on it’s fur. It wasn’t as if a human was grabbing it, no, more of, as if another cat came over and took it in its mouth. The kitten felt that it was getting brought somewhere, God knew where. It was scared, it cried, begged the other cat to not do anything to it, but it was met with silence. Eventually the big cat stopped and put the little kitten down. It tried to see where it was but it couldn’t, and then all out of the sudden, the kitten felt warmth around its body. A warmth only his mother and siblings gave it before. In that moment, it stopped crying, it stopped being scared, instead it pulled closer to the warmth and soon enough it was dead asleep.” the man let out a little chuckle seeing the girl’s hopeful face “Do you know what happened? It’s dad heard its cries. He heard that it was alone, that it was scared, that it didn’t know where his family went, he heard it all and came running for it. Took it to a safer place, laid next to it and provided it safety and warmth it needed. He was there when it needed him the most.”

He ended the story there, but the small girl still had a few questions.

“What about the other kittens? Did he find them too?”

“Sadly, no, at least not in that moment. He would see them though, he would watch from afar as their new families took care of them and gave them lives he never could. He would meet them one day and reunite them with the little one, but that would be long into the future.”

“What happened to the cat mom? Why wasn’t she around to save them?”

Mr, Farfender’s smile faded a little, he sighed. “She was there, for the most of it. She would raise them, provide for them as much as she could, but even she could only be there so much. She had to leave one day, one way or the other, allowing them to start living on their own, start a new, maybe better life. In this case she left a little early but... I bet she tried her best to stay for them.” There was a hint of deep sadness in his voice as he said that.

“Papa and what if... What if kitten’s dad leave it early too? Will it survive on its own?” the little girl got closer to the end of the chair, curiosity and worry written all on her face.

“He won’t” the man answered with a sure tone “He will stay with his kitten until it will manage on its own, until it won’t need his warmth to survive the night, until it can hunt as no one else can, until it’ll be safe for him to let go. He will take care of it no matter how many lives will he have to spend for that. Because that’s what daddies do, and what motivates them to go on in their life. To see their little kittens be happy and safe. That’s what we do.”

“That’s good... That’s good...” the little girl yawned and clumsily got off her chair.

“You’re going to bed now?” the man asked softly. The girl only murmured a hushed “mhm” to him. “Alright then. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“G’night, papa...” she closed the door behind her. The room grew silent, Mr. Farfender watched the door with the same, fond expression as before. I watched him, not saying a word, sitting in the emptiness the girl left after herself.

“I had a bunch of children, you know...” Mr. Farfender suddenly said, he didn’t direct those words at anything, he didn’t even move from his spot, but I knew he was talking to me. “That’s my youngest, Anna. She’s the only one that stayed behind after her mother died and all of her siblings were given out to other families. She doesn’t remember it, though, she was still a baby. Just like that poor kitten, she was weak, all alone, barely alive... No one wanted her. If I hadn’t decided to take her in back then... God forbid...”

He took in a deep inhale before he turned towards me.

“She’s a darling isn’t she? She was the one who pushed me to continue my passion for writing. She would always sit beside me and beg ‘one more, papa, one more”! Sweet child, I would’ve given my life for her.” his cheerful expression he was just wearing became solemn “It’s a pity I’ve given it up a few years later... She was still very young as she watched me slowly give my life away... Maybe if I were stronger back then, didn’t pull back on the medicine... What am I saying, even back then it all was just too expensive for someone in our situation I... It was better to spend it on food and necessities for her. Sadly I couldn’t pull through...”

He once again turned his sight towards the door, his face showing pain and guilt, hoping to see his little Anna just once more. But he couldn’t.

“I tried to find her once I entered the spirit world but it was all in vain. I don’t know where she went, who she stayed with, if she was happy... I don’t even know if she’s alive now.” he closed his eyes and fell silent for a longer while, pondering about something.

I watched him in pain, everything he felt wore off on me, I don’t know whether it was due to me staying in his memory or the depressing story he has lived through. Not knowing whether the one he gave everything for was still around, but hoping with his whole being that they were, that they remembered him and missed him as much as he missed them. As much as he missed her.

“Thank you” he suddenly looked at me with that same meaningful stare “For everything you did for me. You... Reminded me of her. The excitement in your eyes when you talked about my work... Heh. It sure moved something in me. Thank you, lass.”

With his last word echoing in my ears, my vision became blur. I couldn’t for sure tell what was happening, I closed my eyes and when I reopened them, I was back in the library. Mr. Farfender was nowhere to be seen. I was standing there alone, surrounded by other ghost and the library’s owner, all looking at me bewildered. I looked around confused, trying to find where the man I just talked with went. I locked my eyes with the only other living soul there, he looked at me with gentleness radiating from his eyes. They told me everything.

“Mr. Farfender...” I muttered, still in shock.

“Seems like he has found his way to the eternal peace” the middle-aged man said as he looked upwards and then back at me “You lead him to it.”

As he finished his sentence, the spirits began rummaging among themselves, some walking towards me, trying to touch me, all wearing the same relieved smile. They asked me to help them find their peace, some welcomed me to their social circle, a bunch of them tried to hug me. And I could feel them, I could hear them, I could answer them, I could even slightly touch them. I was taken in by them and they were happy to see me, just as much as I was happy to see all them. I don’t know when tears started rolling down my cheeks but in that very moment my eyes once again met Mr. Overbloom’s. All he did was smile warmly at me, before simply saying:

“Welcome to the family, Eva.” ================================================

Author’s note: Hi, hello, this is the introductory chapter of a story I will be working on more in the future! I still have no clue what to name it but it might just come to me with time. If this story gets meet with a lot of positive reactions I’ll go ahead and start writing another chapter - if it won’t, you don’t get to chose I’ll write more either way.

Hope you liked it! Thank you for reading if so <33

[defensefilms]

Basketball, TV Ratings And The Value Of Numbers-Based Thinking

"From NBA, to television ratings, to social media analytics, how numbers affect decision-making and how to teach this language"

Over the last 4 years or so, while watching any number of NBA games, I have often wondered aloud whether the NBA and basketball as a whole is a better medium though which to teach an appreciation of numbers.

At the heart of this article/post, and the reason for it's writing, is the question of whether the sport of basketball, or sports in general, is more effective at teaching numbers-based decision-making than anything else.

Years ago, the idea of using your phone to place a prop bet, would have seemed liked farfetched nonsense, and yet this is what the combination of time, technology, and the need to share and access information have given us.

The above video is one of the most important, and most informative videos regarding NBA and the culture of analytics and the video above, sheds light on a massive trend that has taken over the NBA since 2015.

Basketball players as young as 14 are talking about what thier field goal make and miss numbers are, and which part of the court their made shots came from, because the sport by it's nature motivates analytical thinking, and that's important.

This is how the flow of information affects decision-making in real time, or affects strategies and decisions in the long term, and it's the type of thinking that definently translates to other fields.

When a creator takes a look at thier social media analytics, a similar kind of process starts to happen.

If a specific kind of content is getting a better response in the form of impressions, likes, engagement or things like that, then the creator is incentiveized to make more of that content.

What we're talking about extends to areas as broad as diverse as sales, marketing, the concept of supply and demand, and also the type of data that has been relied on for decades by the television industry, and in particualr, advertisers that rely on the television industry.

The above image is a kind of mock image I created from printscreens of the free document that the website allows you to download each month, and my favorite number from the month of October, is the near 3 million people that tuned in to SABC 2 to see the Springboks in the 2023 Rubgy World Cup Final.

On a channel that rarely pulls over 1 million viewers, SABC 2 managed to do this 6 times in the span of October and 4 of those was when the Springboks were playing live.

However, the holy grail of sports television advertising in America, is the Nielsen television ratings, and according to my due dillagence upon typing this article, the NFL is still king of the sports hill, taking more spots in the top 10 than any other major sporting event in the USA, and that's been the trend going back several years.

So even with the recent complaints about the quality of Monday and Thursday night games, the NFL maintains it's dominance as a televisual product, with a Bears-Chargers Sunday night game being the most watched in the month of October.

Streaming numbers are the future as far as advertising dollars and people's attention is concerned, and notably Across The Spider-Verse, Grey's Anatomy and Suits, all top the list for the most streamed shows, as can be seen in the image below.

However that's not my favorite thing about Nielsen's ratings.

If you scroll down through their website, you will notice a different category of information near the bottom, where Nielsen's go the extra step of showing who, or rather which companies, are spending the most on advertising and how much they're spending.

Amazon, Walt Disney, Warner Bros, along with pharmaceutical giants like Novo Nordisk, manufacturing juggernauts like Procter & Gamble and food retailers like Pepsico, are all still, very heavily invested in the television industry and it's advertising power.

This is a level of disclosure that is kind of foreign to South African media, and if I had to guess, is likely a result of US regulatory policies, and I'll keep hunting for the South African equivalent of this, but for now, it is safe to assume that similar types of advertisers are doing the same thing in the South African television industry.

The point of this post, is to discuss new and improved ways of communicating information, and importantly how to teach a new type of information language in a country that will be well served finding ways to cut that learning curve.

Just a thought.

[frosty-oak]

Delivery guaranteed: Introduction

The Atlantic Ocean has water, the pope is a catholic, and Mark had habits. It took him exactly thirty-six and a half steps to get ready each morning (Mark would know, he counted). In fact, Mark tested every pair of socks to ensure they did not interfere with his step length and therefore impede his optimal routing. The last major life decision Mark had made was to move his toothbrush to the kitchen sink, saving him twenty whole steps each morning and felt like at least a chapter in his biography. While many people (multiple girlfriends and his parents) had seen this as a flaw, and tried to “help” Mark with this, three psychologists and two therapists agreed that there was no diagnosis, Mark just liked things as they were.

-------------

And yet, here he was struggling to push Bella the elephant onto a military class cargo plane with limited success. “YES I KNOW I ONLY HAVE TWO HOURS THANK YOU” he yelled into his phone, currently propped between his shoulder and left ear. Bella sniffed the air a few times, and began quietly chomping at the hay left for her on the floor. Unable to take his anger out on the elephant herself -Mark was quite fond of his not trampled to death body- he began to write a list in his head of all the scathing insults he would call Jane and Andrew as he had decided this was entirely their fault.

-------------

Jane and Andrew were two of Mark’s three friends, he had known them since he was eight years old and had rarely made friends since (Mark’s third friend was coincidentally also called Andrew and was a work colleague). They had gone to the same primary school, then the same high school and ever since sixth form they would meet on a Friday afternoon at five minutes past four outside ‘The Fox’, sit at the table exactly half way between the bar and the door. Each Friday Mark would drink three pints, have a laugh chatting about Andrew’s revolving door of a love life and then walk home. It was on one of these Fridays that Andrew (Welsh Andrew, not Andrew from work) asked a question Mark had never considered: “why don’t you do something different Mark? Like… you’ve been at that job ten bloody years now, you must be qualified for something better… you must be!”.

Like explaining quantum computing to an ant, or the combined works of Shakespeare to a New England Terrier this concept was vastly beyond Mark’s understand of the world. Mark had been a delivery driver at G&T Operations for the past decade, he had outlasted almost every member of staff there despite former employees describing his role as “mind numbing”, “the dullest thing I have ever done” and “unrewarding”.

As it turns out, yes, he was qualified for a better job, several hundred of them. Despite insisting that he was “perfectly happy in his nice comfortable job” Andrew and Jane corralled Mark into as many interviews as they could manage, the last on the list being “pretty much what you do anyway! What’s the difference between a delivery driver and a delivery operative?” Jane insisted, as the three of them nervously approached what was apparently a delivery centre. Mark was expecting a large ugly rectangle of sheet metal and exploitation, but he did not expect posh, unbelievably posh, has-its-own-moat-and-guardhouse-posh. After Mark had his documents checked and was lead through the heavy iron gate he started feeling quite incredibly out of place.

-------------

Out of place definitely feels better than out of breath, Mark decided, as he stepped back from Bella, panting heavily. He glanced down at the muddy footprints left on the tarmac, and considered that it looked a tremendous amount like she had yet to move a full inch. After a thorough search of his pockets, the plane, the pilot and Bella herself (who didn’t reveal much, having no pockets) Mark sprinted across the tarmac in circles, pulled his shirt over his head and did a small, awkward dance. “BELLAAAAA! What’s this?” he asked, as the giant caught sight of her favourite tennis ball cascading into the back of the plane. She considered this for a moment, before slowly wandering in and sitting down on the floor with a tremendous noise. “I’m going to buy myself one of those fancy offices” Mark muttered to himself, slamming the door shut and triple checking it was locked.

-------------

Beyond the moat there were two men wearing suits and earpieces at the door, they looked expensive enough to be palace guards, or protecting a vault in a heist movie rather than a delivery company. One silently extended his hand for the papers Mark had shown less than a minute ago before opening the door and returning his attention to the horizon. “Do I just… in here? Okay lovely thanks.” Mark muttered mostly to himself as he walked in, starting to feel his cleanest polo shirt wasn’t quite appropriate for this.

A gentle gust of wind signalled the door shutting, leaving Mark in a spectacularly bespoke office. Artisanal hand crafted crystal paperweights, silk curtains with tasteful real gold trim, mahogany floors, works of art lining the walls including at least one real Monet gave the impression that this office had been around longer than several nations.

"Mark." He supposed this was technically a greeting, as she marched in and sat down across the large wooden desk. The exotic mahogany desk polished within an inch of its life was somewhere between an antique and a relic, only gaining value as it aged. Mark looked back at the sceptical look currently being levelled at him, and wondered if this was the part he was supposed to say things. “hello?” he tried, and felt the air cool several degrees, evidently that wasn’t a good answer.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

That’s all for now folks! Thank you very much for reading, and I aim to have more out soon with a more cohesive timeline now that we are introduced to Mark.

[smores100]

i really snjoy reading your opinions on wtfock (i may have scrolled through your posts tonread your tags) and holy shit i agree 100% with you! bless you for being brave enough to share your opinion!

awww anon, this was a sweet msg to come back to, thank you! the fact that you scrolled through my posts to read *my* tags and *my* opinions….me???….you flatter me 😌 my tags are often so rambly and messy bc i have Thoughts but i don’t always know how to make sense of them but sometimes i just GOTTA so then that happens. and i appreciate being called brave but lol i’m really not! notice how i share my opinion/crticize/rant in the tags instead of making my own posts…i’m a wuss who can’t handle confrontations, but still has things to say and a desire to vent, so rambling in the tags is my solution, haha. i just know a lot of my opinions are probably unpopular and controversial and i don’t want to piss anyone off with my negativity. plus i’m sure i’ll be accused of being a skam purist who hates on the remakes just for the sake of hating, which is untrue bc i *did* try to like the remakes, and fact is i *do* love some of them, BUT it’s also true bc i’m 100% a skam pursit when it comes to s3. say what you will about all the other seasons, but og s3 is PERFECTION in every way, and aside from maybe a thing or two i wouldn’t change ANYTHING about it, so if you’re gonna copy/paste it OR make changes then hell yeah i’m gonna have Thoughts about it, and don’t be surprised if they’re not positive ones!

(also if i’m already here, let me just say regarding the last two clips - EEK. i’ve said in another post how i hate that they broke this scene into 2 clips bc it feels unnecessary and only for shock value and drama. in general i don’t like how DARK and DEPRESSING they’re making out this story to be, there really wasn’t any need to see 3 mins of robbe trying to have sex with a girl, he has internalized homophobia WE GET IT. we got it when isak made out with emma in front of his friends and pulled away when she tried to blow him in the bathroom once they were gone; we got it when matteo pulled away from sara and offered to watch a movie together instead or when he flinched when she touched his back and ran out of there. THEY DON’T NEED TO GO THIS HARD for the viewers to get it!!! and blah blah realism blah blah this isn’t what s3 is supposed to be about!!! i can’t stress enough how the message of s3 is HOPE. i’m not lgbt so obviously i’ll never know what it’s like for them, but i’ve had (and have) shit going on in my life and escapism for me is watching something that cheers me up and makes me happy. and maybe i’m wrong, but i think a lot of lgbt people would rather watch something that comforts and gives them hope instead of a rerun of their real life. i know i would. and that’s what was so beautiful about og, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, there was angst and difficult times, but there was always a good balance b/w the angst and the fluff, and even being isak’s safe haven had a lot to do with it. 

i saw someone saying earlier something about how they love what wtfock is doing with robbe’s internalized homophobia bc it’s more realistic/better than even fixing isak’s internalized homophobia, which made me GROAN out loud bc THAT’S NOT WHAT HAPPENED. even didn’t FIX anything, isak CLEARLY still suffers from it even AFTER getting together with even (the first time) - e.g. his fear when emma calls him ‘gay’ in the middle of the party; the pride talk with eskild; his nerves before and during his coming out scene to jonas; same with magnus and mahdi and ‘i’m not gay….ok maybe a little bit gay…’; i could go on and on. the point is, even didn’t FIX anything, but he *did* make things EASIER and BETTER and he *did* give him that push he needed in order to start his journey to self acceptance. that’s why their first kiss was such a PIVOTAL MOMENT for isak!!! the water, the 21:21, the REBIRTH SYMBOLISM, isak initiating the kiss….it was isak FINALLY letting himself be his REAL SELF for the FIRST TIME. it was his first real step into accepting himself, and once that happened, despite his internalized homophobia not magically going away, despite all his worries and fears, he never looked back. he didn’t try to fight who he really was anymore and force himself to act straight again. bc meeting even changed his life and gave him HOPE. just like isak’s and even’s story did to so many other people. what wtfock did after robbe’s and sander’s first kiss is the complete opposite. they missed the whole point of the season and i hate it). (also, i have no idea whether or not they’re planning on keeping the mi storyline, but if they are…..ooof, this will make everything up until now even worse).

ANYWAY you didn’t ask for this, i’m sorry! i just had to vent somewhere, so ty for providing me with the opportunity. and ty again for caring about my opinion at all 😊

[creative-time]

The Guardian Interview 2022 (Simplified Bullet List Version Because Its 1 am)

Major Spoilers ahead so read at your own discretion

(They mention the 2019 pilot so I’ll go over that first)

Alright so someone has given me a link to the pdf of this interview, I’m not gonna say who did because I don’t want anyone going after them but they have given me permission to talk about this.

I’m also not going to be linking to this pdf, because tbh I don’t know if that is legal and I’m not taking that chance… but I believe you can find it if you look for it. (For legal reasons this is a joke)

Here are some things that I feel are important takes from this interview

The 2019 Pilot:

Becky Sloan states that Clayhill was “a bit South Park”

Baker Terry adds that they made an attempt to get an element of current affairs, but he whispers it “because it almost sounds like a dirty phrase”

They felt the timelessness and claustrophobia of the originals were missing

So, I guess this means that nearly everything in “The Key to The City” is not going to be present in the tv show, which is a bit sad but I guess is understandable.

They also did not mention if they were ever going to officially release the pilot so we are still on that can of duck organs 🙃

Alright, this next bit is gonna get into the tv show so you have been warned, it does get a little… interesting to say the least.

The TV Show

They wrote this during the pandemic (obviously), over zoom and they felt that is may have helped recapture the oppressive vibe they felt was missing from the Pilot, Joseph states that it was strange writing a show about characters stuck inside while they were also stuck inside, “so maybe there are points where we did actually go insane”

This interview states that Baker does “About 80%” of the voices, and yeah that adds up

Jamie Demetriou, Lolly Adefope and Phil Wang have come on board to voice new characters

Sam Campbell and Natasha Hodgson have joined as writers

Megan Ganz is the story editor

Lolly Adefope is playing an intercom (An intercom character or a character that just so happens to be using the intercom???) and singing a “vocoder-packed pop number about workplace stress management”

Terry says that they have spent their whole adult lives doing this (also adds up)

Just the sentence, “On TV, the homemade ethos remains - which will please fans who have been patiently waiting six years for it to appear.”

Hugo Donkin makes a brief cameo appearance in this interview along with Charlie Perkins

Apparently they went ham on the props, there’s a background prop of a travel pamphlet and inside are felt pictures of holiday locations and that’s actually kinda cute

The trio share a comically large wallet that’s only shown for a second, Joe says there’s gonna be a number and date on the credit card “that no one will notice”

“Everyone’s gone insane of set” -Joseph Pelling

There is a stop-motion area on set where they are working with clay (LETS GOOOO)

… the urinals… are gonna have eyes… and limbs… the urinals are alive and I don’t know how to feel about that tbh…

The prop making area has also been dubbed “The Puppet Hospital”

There’s gonna be a vending machine full of cigarettes and bottles of “Mysterious dark liquid”

Also a robot dog! Hopefully it is wholesome and not bad at all

there is a quiet dark stage dubbed “The Void”

Red and Duck are going to be confused and try to make out felt objects “Through the encroaching gloom”

Josh Elwell is Duck’s Puppeteer and contorted themselves on the floor behind a felt fridge to get out of shot!

Perkins says that bringing in professional puppeteers has added, “so much personality and emotion”

Becky says there’s gonna be scenes with Yellow Guy where the people might cry (what is this a call out post??)

They actually had to stop using real meat for this show and had to use silicon replicas because there was an incident where they used actual beef to fill a “horrible vending machine” and it apparently smelled so bad that crew decided to switch to fakes

Terry’s favorite dhmis theory involves Bosnian Serb war criminal Radovan Karadžić

Becky’s is a huge fan of the “conspiracy-level scrutiny they have attracted”

There is a mention of the Ed Tucker Duck Tree anagram

“They refuse the debunk any of the theories”

The trio says they put a ton of Easter eggs in this show because they know the audience has the appetite for “dissecting things” (yet another callout post)

There is a life-size felt car sitting on stilts, Becky said that the crew dumped the car “in hope that the show’s supersleuths might one day discover its location” (CIPHER HUNT 2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO)

You’ll apparently have to swim through a swamp to get to the car, but Becky says that people can find it

Joe says that they had to give the characters little desires to fit with the runtime of a tv show, even it the desire was “I don’t want to be in this room anymore”

All the props and puppets are in storage, but the trio hope to exhibit them one day

“At some point, we’ll have built everything in the world out of felt,” says Pelling. Sloan pipes up: “No one can stop us!”

And that’s all I can think of right now, I took me an hour to write this and it’s now 2 am I’m going to bed

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

Loss

AU: What if the Riddler grabbed Y/N to try and draw Bruce out into the open?

Request: Hey!! Your writing is really great ✨💖 Could I request for Bruce Wayne in The Batman in which the reader is his wife and she got kidnapped by Riddler or maybe Joker; Batman tries to save her but at almost the last second it was so close in keeping her safe again, the villain may or may not killed her.. one note she’s pregnant too so sad thank you ver much 💓💓

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Warnings: Major injury, miscarriage, hospitals

Word Count: 1331

A/N: So, this is quite dark, please read the warnings! This can be read as a standalone! Anyway, I hope you like it!

Ko-Fi

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Headcanon Requests Open!

Y/N’s whole body felt cold. Well, no that was not entirely true, her hands were very warm. But that might have something to do with her own hot blood that was seeping through her fingers around the blade of the knife. The Riddler had not meant to stab her. She had managed to free herself from her bindings and had shoved him away from his computer when he tried to detonate a bomb. He spun and sank the knife into her stomach on instinct. She dropped the floor as he told her she had ruined everything, that she had only been a way to draw Bruce out, he never meant for her to get hurt. Luckily for her, he had left the knife in and she was sure he had told Batman exactly where to find her.

But she knew she was running out of time. That Bruce was running out of time to get to her. Her vision was starting to get blurry and the pain was the only thing keeping her awake. Not just the physical pain. She was trying not to think about the fact she was pregnant. She had only known for a few days and had not even had time to tell Bruce yet. The stab wound was off to the left side of her stomach so she was holding onto some hope that if Bruce found her in time, both her and the baby might be okay.

“Y/N?” Bruce’s voice echoed through the room.

She bit her tongue to stop herself calling his name, just in case he was not alone. “Here.” Her voice was weak, but the room was silent and he heard her.

“Oh god.” Gordon said as Bruce dropped to his knees in front of her. “He wasn’t kidding. I’m going to go and flag down the medics” He departed as quickly as he arrived.

“Y/N, hey, keep your eyes on me.” The panic was clear in his voice was he shifted her hands from where the knife was sticking out of her stomach. He sucked in a breath through his teeth as he looked at all the blood. He pressed his hands where hers had been, his heart breaking at the gasp of pain she let out.

“I’m really cold.” She whispered, keeping her eyes on his panicked blue ones to try and stay conscious.

“I know, but the medics are already on their way. You’re going to be fine Y/N, you’re going to be fine.”

She knew he was trying to convince himself as much as her. She could taste blood. “I need to tell you something.”

“Whatever it is, it can wait. You’re going to be fine.” He insisted.

“No, you’ll need to tell the medics.” She needed him to understand why she was about to tell him what she was. It took all her strength to force the words out, knowing how much they would hurt him. “They’ll need to know. Bruce, I’m pregnant.”

A pained noise tore it’s way out of the back of his throat. But he took a deep breath to stay calm. “Everything’s going to be okay. Y/N, you just have to keep your eyes open.”

She knew he was right, but her eyelids felt like lead, and as they slipped shut, she could hear him calling her name.

***

As she started the regain consciousness, the first thing Y/N was aware of was the beeping of a heart rate monitor. There was a dull ache in her abdomen and she knew they must have her on some very strong painkillers because the pain should have been overwhelming. Every part of her body felt as though it was weighed down and she had to fight to open her eyes. She blinked as she was greeted by bright lights and waited for her eyes to adjust. She was propped up in a hospital bed in a private room. Not that she expected any less of Bruce, he would have insisted on the best. The man in question was sat in the arm chair next to her bed. Well, the lower half of his body was, his head was resting on his crossed arms on the edge of her hospital bed. He was fast asleep and she knew he would not have been home for however long she had been unconscious.

“Bruce?” She ran her fingers through his hair, aware of how rough her voice sounded. There was a glass of water on the bedside table but it was just out of reach and the pain in her stomach increased when she tried to move. “Bruce?” She tried again, brushing his hair out of his face. Her fingertips against his skin started to rouse him and he blinked blearily before sitting up. He ran a hand over his face and glanced at her, noticing she was looking at him. “Hi.”

He was at her side in an instant, sitting on the edge of the bed his hand moving to her face. “Hey, how do you feel?”

“Thirsty.” She smiled at him.

He tried to smile back, but she could tell it was forced. He adjusted the pillows behind her and helped her sit up before grabbing the glass of water and helping her take a drink. He pulled it away when she tried to gulp it down, only giving it her back when she slowed down. When it was empty, he placed it back down on the table and took one of her hands in both of his.

She took a deep breath before asking him what she needed to know, trying to keep her tone light so he would not know how worried she was. “So, what’s the diagnosis?”

He looked away from her, his grip on her hand tightening as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. “By the time we found you… Y/N, you lost almost 2 litres of blood. You’ve had multiple transfusions across the two days you’ve been out. He missed almost everything important. But-” He stopped and took a shaky breath. “The stress and the blood loss, they tried to stabilise you, but honey, you lost the baby.”

It felt as though someone had just completely emptied her chest, like there was a void inside of her. She had known deep down that she would lose it the moment the blade pierced her skin, but somehow, hearing the words from Bruce made it so much worse.

“Oh.” She met his eyes and the dam broke. She rested a hand over her stomach as a sob escaped her throat and tears started falling. Bruce shifted, tentatively wrapping his arms around her and letting her sob into his shoulder. “I’m sorry, for not telling you before.”

“Don’t apologise.” He said into her hair.

“No, I should have told you when I went to the appointment on Thursday. You should have been there.” She gripped the back of his shirt in her hands and buried her face further into his neck.

“Y/N, I understand. I’ve been busy with the Riddler. It’s okay.” He shifted so he could press his lips against her temple. “I was supposed to call the nurses as soon as you woke up. You okay if I do that now?”

She nodded, pulling back from him and steeling herself for their arrival as he pressed the button.

Taglist: In the reblogs

[erodasfishtacos]

THIS GAVE ME MLB VIBES AND I RUSHED OVER TO SEND IT TO YOU

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMdVqhj1m/

OMG. Yes but imagine Harry won his team a major win against their biggest rival but a complete strikeout - through all innings there were no fucking hits because of his pitching.

This is so soft 🥺

—

YN wasn’t there because they had just has Ezra and he was still brand new and too little to be out and about quite yet.

He’s still on the field when his manager hands him his phone, he doesn’t care about the cameras as he facetimes his wife.

She answers with a tired smile, he can see Cash asleep with his head on her shoulder with Ezra sleeping on the cradle of her arm as she sets the phone down on prop on the table.

“Mama, I fuckin’ did it,” Harry smiles widely, always wanting to impress his wife.

Now he could see that Easton was curled up in his favorite blanket dreaming and the other two boys were just as content.

“You did so so good, H. I watched the whole thing, the boys could keep their eyes open past nine but they were enjoying it.”

He could tell how tired she was by her raspy tone and her smile not reaching her eyes as much as it usually did.

“Hey, I’ll be home soon. Give me an hour, okay?” Harry murmurs, stepping off to the corner of the field for a tad more privacy.

“No no,” She titters quietly, “Go celebrate.”

He frowns,“I can celebrate. Want t’celebrate it with my baby mama and favorite boys. Darling, I know y’tired.”

YN laughs softly, with a bit of self-deprecation, “I’m not going to be very much fun. I haven’t had a shower in nearly two days and I feel like my nipples are about to fall off.”

“Mama,” He huffs with frustration, “M’so fuckin’ in love with you. Don’t want t’be anywhere else but with my family, okay?”

—

When Harry gets home, he sees his family all asleep in the living room. The two older boys on the couch with their mother and Ezra in his cradle they kept downstairs.

He carefully and quietly takes the Easton and Cash - one each hip - upstairs to tuck them into bed with a kiss.

When he comes back down, he cradles up Ezra and takes him up to his room to lay him down in the crib.

He stirs a little bit and whimpers, as soon as Harry pops his pacifier back on his mouth - he’s suckling happily and closing his eyes.

“Easton! Cash!” He is startled to hear his wife yelling as he also hears her running quickly up the stairs and down the hall to both of their bedrooms.

After he assumes she checks on them, she is bolting into Ezra’s room with frantic eyes and a hand of her chest.

“Whoa, mama. Wha’s goin’ on?” Harry asks as she walks over to the crib to peer in - like she had to make sure her newborn son was in there.

Then the tears are coming, “I wo-woke up and got s-so scared. I tho-thought something happened because I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Oh darlin’, m’sorry,” Harry soothes, tugging her into a tight hug, “Didn’t mean to frighten you. The boys are all nice and safe.”

She’s shuttering from her sobs, post-pregnancy hormones still fucking her up, “I can’t let an-anything ha-happen to them. I love them so much.”

Harry puts a finger under her chin, “Neither of us are ever gonna let anythin’ happen to them. Y’the best baby mama there is, my love. Perfect, love you and the boys s’fucking much.”

YN nods, letting her forehead drop to his shoulder as she tries to stabilize her breathing back to normal, “I’m sorry, I’m just so tired.”

“I’m gonna take the night shift f’Ezzie tonight so you can get some sleep,” Harry murmurs, kissing the side of her head.

“No H, you just had an amazing game and this is what you come home to,” She scoffs angrily at herself.

“Yeah, I come home to my wife and babies. At the end of the day, that’s all I fuckin’ care about - not some win or record being broken. It’s all about you and the boys.”

[songmingisthighs]

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. xxi - sleepless

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

With Hongjoong's last sent text, you threw your blanket off and tippy-toe your way to his bedroom that he shared with Seonghwa.

You slowly open his door and peek inside to scan the room first before going in. There were two beds at each corner of the room with two study desks in between the beds. Seonghwa seemingly dead asleep in his bed in the left corner as Hongjoong was at his study desk, back towards you as he is immersed in his work. The room was dark as one of them is asleep but the study lamp on Hongjoong's desk is on, illuminating the room with a pretty golden glow.

Hearing the door open, Hongjoong looked back and grinned widely at the sight of you, "hey, come on in," he said, nodding his head to the side to tell you to come in.

You walk into their room, closing the door quietly before walking towards Hongjoong's side to peek at what he's working on. The laptop screen showed that he was working on his paper, being a double major must've been hard.

"Have you been working on this since we finished dinner, Joongie?" you asked while leaning down so your head's next to his to skim at the paper he's writing.

Nodding his head, you see that he was pursing his lips, "yeah, I just want to finish this as soon as possible so I can finally get a fucking rest," he muttered. He then paused to look at you, smiling before reaching his hand to hold your arm, "you can lie down in my bed, get yourself comfortable as I work,"

HAutomatically, your eyes peer down onto his bed. His comfy looking bed with fluffy pillows and a thick blanket. You can only imagine how good his bed smells.

So without wasting any more time, you plop down belly-first onto Hongjoong's bed, squealing happily, making Hongjoong chuckle at how you're acting. You took your time settling in, tucking yourself under his blanket and propping your head on his pillow before taking your phone out and began scrolling.

As Hongjoong work, you scroll through Instagram while talking with him. He would ask for your opinion on his paper, whether or not what he was implying is expressed correctly and asking for fancy vocabulary to, as he said "put pizzazz in that miserable professor's life,"

An hour passed and you started to feel bored. So you put your phone on Hongjoong's table next to his laptop and sat up to watch his pretty fingers dance on the keyboard of his laptop. God, how can a person's fingers look so aesthetically pleasing?

"Joong, Joongieeeeee," you whined as you began tugging on the sleeve of his sweater. He slowly peels his eyes off the laptop to look at you which was a huge mistake because you're looking at him with eyes so sad and pout so deep that it almost literally melt his heart away.

As hard as he tried, he couldn't help but reach a hand forward and gently move your hair away from your face, "yeah? What is it?" he answered, eyes focusing on trying to fix your slightly messy hair.

With your pout still on, you whined at him, "am cold," you said. Hongjoong raised an eyebrow at you, "you're literally wearing a blanket around you, (Y/N)," he said, the side of his lips quirking upwards in amusement.

To be honest, you didn't really wanna tell him what you actually want in case he'd feel that you're too annoying or whiny. If only you knew he has a soft spot for whiny, clingy brats. That's the only reason why Wooyoung still hasn't been kicked out yet.

Lips jutting forward, you suck your pride in to tell him what you actually want by not literally saying what you actually want. "I was promised a hoodie if I come here," you muttered.

It took Hongjoong ten whole seconds to realize what you meant. Laughing lightly at your adorableness, he pats your head before standing up from his desk to walk towards his wardrobe on the side of his room to retrieve one of his favourite hoodies.

"You know, you can just say you want it or even get it on your own," he said as he returns to you and drops the hoodie on your lap, making you squeal in delight. "I could tell you, but where's the fun in that? and besides, I'm not the type to just randomly go through my friend's wardrobe," you answered him.

For some reason, you weren't thinking straight as you suddenly hold the ends of your shirt and lift it off of you, leaving your bra-clad chest visible to a frozen Hongjoong.

Usually, Hongjoong's a gentleman. He'd avert his eyes when he thinks he's seeing something inappropriate. But for some reason, he couldn't avert his gaze away from your chest.

Realizing that Hongjoong had gone silent, you look up only to find him staring directly at your boobs. You blushed slightly when you realized what you had done, so you immediately cover yourself up with the hoodie that he had lent you.

"Sorry, I tend to change my clothes in front of Mingi and Jongho without thinking," you said, voice breaking Hongjoong's trance as he shook his head slightly to regain his senses back.

When he saw that you're so preciously swallowed by his hoodie, he couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness from deep within him.

"Lucky them for being able to see and feel you whenever they want," he said. You immediately sense the change of tone in his voice, realizing that he might want in on what Mingi and Jongho has.

You raised an eyebrow at him, daringly lifting one side of the hoodie to show one of your bra-clad boobs, "wanna touch 'em?"

There was a long pause between you two. Half of your chest still exposed to the cold air. But the silence was too much, neither of you was moving at all for a while and it made you worried.

Had you read the signs wrong?

Is Hongjoong not into this?

Luckily, Hongjoong snapped out of what seemed to be his trance and practically pouncing on you. He had managed to straddle your hips and pin your arms on the sides, the blanket that was covering you thrown to the side to expose you fully to him.

Your eyes lock on his and you can feel how affected he was by you. Hongjoong leaned his face down to the side of your neck and began leaving soft pecks around, making you exhale shakily.

"Tell me what's on the table," he mumbled against your skin, the vibration of his voice that had dropped low sending tingling feelings down to your core.

"Anything you want," you answered. Your eyes fluttered close as his kisses move lower until it stops at your cleavage. His lips stayed there momentarily before his tongue poked out and began licking at the hem of your bra, going along the line across your breasts on both sides before suddenly biting at your nipple through the fabric of your bra, making you gasp and arch your back at the sudden impact.

Hongjoong smirked at the reaction you gave him. He used the opportunity of your back arching to reach behind and unclasp your bra, flipping it upwards so he's face to face with your bare chest.

A low groan rose from his throat before latching his lips at your left nipple, tongue licking at the bud and teeth taking turn grazing and tugging on it. While his mouth was busy on your chest, his left hand slides south to rub at your clit through your sleeping shorts using his thumb.

"A-ah, Joongie," you moaned, feeling your arousal increasing each passing second. Your legs began to spread wider to accommodate his body and to invite more of his ministrations.

Feeling a bit braver, you guide his hand that was rubbing on your clit to slip inside your sleeping shorts and panties to make direct contact. When you feel his bare fingers rubbing your pussy gently, you let out a shaky breath as you slightly shudder.

The feeling of his mouth coating your boobs with his saliva and his fingers teasing your hole was amazing. Your eyes flutter close to enjoy the pleasure he was giving you.

Neither of you realized that the other person in the room had been watching the whole thing unfold, starting from when Hongjoong pounced on you. He decided that he wants in on the fun.

Hongjoong was the first to notice Seonghwa walking towards both of you. He let his mouth detach from your nipple for a second to peer at Seonghwa with a smirk on his face, "glad to see you up, we were just about to have fun," he teased.

You open your eyes when you hear Hongjoong spoke. That was when your eyes met Seonghwa's lust-filled ones, gasping in shock when you finally registered that he's watching his roommate frolicking. His usually twinkling eyes dimmed down to showcase a desire from within him.

Hongjoong slipped his hand that was in your panties out, making you whine in protest at the loss of contact. It wasn't until he held his fingers up for Seonghwa to lick that your mouth hung open. The way Seonghwa's tongue circles around Hongjoong's fingers only drove you to imagine what he can do to your pussy.

You want it.

And you want it now.

You push yourself slightly upwards and joined Seonghwa in licking Hongjoong's fingers clean of your arousal. Both of your tongues occasionally bump into each other and your eyes were locked with one another.

"Fuck, you're turned on by this, aren't you?" Hongjoong growled at the sight. He pulled his fingers away from you both and once the barrier between you two disappeared, Seonghwa reached for your face and began to fully make out with you.

As Seonghwa's mouth kept you busy, Hongjoong made himself useful by moving to the side so you can access Seonghwa better. He slowly moved behind you and let his legs trap you in the middle. His hands slipped into the hoodie you're wearing and trailed up to squeeze at your boobs harshly, making you gasp which gave Seonghwa the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

Hongjoong fondled your boobs for a bit before unlatching your straps off so he can slip your bra off and fling it to Seonghwa's bed, all the while keeping his hoodie on you. He then proceeded to slip your sleeping shorts and panties off in one swift motion.

The cold air hitting your core sent shivers down your spine. When he felt you shiver, Seonghwa unlatched his lips from yours momentarily to look down. The sight of your glistening pussy, illuminated by the warm glow from Hongjoong's study light greeted him.

Seeing his friend eyeing your core, Hongjoong pulls your legs apart widely. He bent his knees to make sure that your legs will stay open before hooking both of your legs around his.

"God, Joong, you must see how fucking pretty her pussy is," Seonghwa said before kneeling by the bed so his face is directly in front of your pussy.

Hongjoong wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest before trailing his right hand to your pussy and began circling your clit with his fingers.

"I will, all things in due time," he said smugly while pinching your bud, making your hips jolt upwards in surprise.

As Seonghwa began peppering kisses in your inner thighs, Hongjoong nibbled on your earlobe while his fingers never stopped playing with your entrance. "Fun fact for you, little lady," he said as his other hand dropped down to spread your pussy lips, "Seonghwa here is the resident pussy addict, and I'm pretty sure that after tasting yours, he's not gonna want any other pussies,"

That was the last thing you hear before suddenly Seonghwa surges forward and began eating you up like a starved animal. You let out a high pitch moan at the feeling of his tongue probing at your hole, he was tongue fucking you relentlessly all the while his sharp nose was nudging your clit.

Seonghwa's hands were placed on your inner thighs, fingers teasingly pinching at the skin to send jolts of shock. Meanwhile, Hongjoong had returned to rubbing at your clit and pinching them slightly.

True to what Hongjoong said, Seonghwa is a pussy maniac. He was practically making out with your pussy at this point. When you take a peek at him, you see that he has his eyes closed, seemingly enjoying eating you out more than you're enjoying being eaten out.

It didn't take long for you to feel your climax approaching. Your back arches against Hongjoong and your whines turn to pleas. Seonghwa noticed that you're so close so he let his tongue fuck you deeper and even flick at your clit.

"Come on baby, come on, cum for us," Hongjoong growled right next to your ear. One of his hands moves to pinch and roll your nipple while the other rubs at your clit quicker, even delivering a couple slaps at your clit to add to the pleasure.

Seonghwa switched his attention to your clit, he practically pushes Hongjoong's hand away and began sucking on it messily, he even used his teeth to tug at your bud while slipping two fingers inside you to urge your cum.

With a final tug, suck, and stroke, you came hard on Seonghwa's mouth. Squealing his name loudly as your hips lift high and thighs shake at the feeling.

You drop back down, panting slightly with a grin on your face. Seonghwa pushed himself up to your eye level, a smug smirk on his face as he darts his tongue out to clean off the last bit of your slick from the corner of his lips.

"You, my handsome friend," you said, pausing to look at Seonghwa in the eyes and grab at his chin to pull him into you, "deserve the title of resident pussy addict," you finished before crashing your lips together again.

Feeling slightly neglected, Hongjoong rolled his eyes and deliver a harsh smack to your pussy to get your attention. You yelped and detach yourself from Seonghwa at the sudden feeling, "hello? I was the one who initiated things with you?" Hongjoong pouted.

You cooed at Hongjoong's whining, thinking that for someone who has such a big influence, he sure can be a baby. You turn your body around and loop your arms around Hongjoong's neck, "I'm sorry Joongie," you said as you began pressing soft kisses around Hongjoong's face, "but I gotta say, jealousy and possessiveness look really good on you," you muttered against his lips, nibbling on his bottom lip slightly.

Whilst you give Hongjoong's lips the attention they deserve, your hands began tugging his sweatpants and boxers down. You detach yourself from Hongjoong's lips to look at Hongjoong's cock. Feeling your gaze on his exposed dick was arousing enough, so when your finger drag on the underside of his cock to his leaking tip, he couldn't help but shudder.

Seeing Hongjoong smirk really boosted your ego, you feel like you have control over him. Looking back, you see that Seonghwa had rid himself of his shirt and pyjama pants, allowing you to toggle at his sculpted body and hardened cock that stood proud.

"Damn you two really know how to spoil a girl," you said, licking your lips. You turn your head to Hongjoong for a bit and tug on his sweater while batting your eyelashes, "can you please take this off for me?"

The way you asked him so sweetly made his dick twitch. Not wanting to disappoint you, he began ridding himself from his sweater and sweatpants, maintaining eye contact with you as one of your hands began stroking Seonghwa from his abs down to graze lightly at his cock, making the man moan.

Once both of them were completely naked, you ushered them to sit at the edge of the bed while you kneel in front of them after taking Hongjoong's hoodie off of you. You leaned back for a second, relishing the visual in front of you. Hongjoong was raising an eyebrow at you in a challenging manner, whereas Seonghwa had begun to stroke himself slowly.

"You both really do have pretty cocks," you confessed, finally propping yourself properly before reaching for their dicks in each of your hands. You began slowly stroking them all the while watching what kind of reaction you'd get from them.

Seonghwa had his head thrown back, moaning from the pleasure that you're giving them whereas Hongjoong's directly staring at you, a smirk plastered on his lips to show his amusement.

You leaned forward and began taking Seonghwa in your mouth, you let your mouth envelop his tip. "Oh fuck, baby- I-," Seonghwa moaned, breath hitching as you began to suck his tip. You occasionally let your tongue ran along his slit, collecting his leaking precum.

As your mouth gave its attention to Seonghwa, your hand never stopped pleasuring Hongjoong. You felt proud that you're able to multitask on two dicks at the same time, how when your mouth suck and let Seonghwa push himself into your mouth deeper, your hand that's pumping Hongjoong's dick would squeeze him with the perfect amount of pressure that made Hongjoong groan.

When you think that Seonghwa's cock had had enough attention from your mouth, you move to suck on Hongjoong's cock while pumping Seonghwa.

"Shit, (Y/N), you really know your- Ah! way with t-two dicks," Seonghwa sputtered, one of his hands reaching to move your hair away from your face so he could see you sucking on Hongjoong better. Your eyes flit to Seonghwa for a second and you decided you wanna tease him. With eyes locked with each other, you let your tongue out and drag it from Hongjoong's base, dragging on his veins, to his tip. Seonghwa's eyes darken at the sight.

He was about to help you drive him even closer to his climax but you saw his hand reaching to fondle with his balls so you slap his hand away. Detaching your mouth briefly from Hongjoong's cock, you leaned over to Seonghwa and bit his inner thigh and squeeze his dick harder.

"Oh fuck!" Seonghwa exclaimed, almost jolting up at the sudden feeling of pain that turned into pleasure. Your eyebrows shot upwards to warn him to not try you, to which Seonghwa just smirked amusedly.

You went on to switch between sucking Hongjoong and Seonghwa all the while never stopping pumping them. You'd occasionally play with their balls and even let your mouth play around down there.

"(Y/N), f-fuck! I'm close! I'm sooooo fucking close," Seonghwa moaned, hips starting to buck to the rhythm of your hand that's pumping his dick. You licked your lips hearing that, you went over to nibble at Hongjoong's tip, "are you close too, Joongie?" you mumbled against his cock.

The vibration of your voice shot right to his dick and he nodded frantically, hips starting to move against your hand as well.

Seeing them so close, you began pumping them harder, urging them to cum.

"Come on, cum for me, please," you moaned for them, "please give me your cum, I want your cum," you continued, pushing them even further to the edge.

Finally, Hongjoong came first out of the both of them. His hip stuttered before halting to a complete stop as his cock spurt out cum, painting his abs and thighs so beautifully.

Hongjoong drops himself back to lie on his bed, catching his breath after getting his release. Which is perfect since you got the chance to give Seonghwa full attention. You begin sucking him while using one hand to pump him and the other to tease his balls.

After one final squeeze, Seonghwa came in your mouth while letting out a choked moan. You swallowed all and let your tongue out to show Seonghwa that you took all of him in without letting a single drop go to waste.

"That's got to be one of the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life," he said as he watched you with pure amazement and adoration. You giggled at his compliment before going over to Hongjoong and lick his cum clean. As your tongue glided over his skin, Hongjoong moaned and tug on your hair with one hand.

Once you feel like your job is done, you stood up and squeeze yourself in between them. As if on command, they both suddenly reached to each wrap an arm around your waist, making you giggle.

"Usually I'd be pissed at whoever disturbed my sleep," Seonghwa paused to kiss the corner of your lips, "but I honestly didn't mind this at all," he said, lips still pressing against your skin as you can feel him smiling.

Hongjoong sat up slightly to look between you and Seonghwa with a satisfied grin, "well, as much as I'd love to stay here and chat, I think we better go to sleep so some of us wouldn't be late for class tomorrow," he said before sitting up and grabbing his hoodie that you wore previously and tossing it for you to wear.

Seonghwa followed suit, sitting up only to help you put the hoodie back on as if you were a child. When you're covered, he suddenly hoisted you up and carried you over to his bed, dropping you first before jumping to the empty spot next to you.

"Wait, I don't have my panties or bra on," you said when Seonghwa began to cover you with his blanket while simultaneously pulling you closer to him. He only raised an eyebrow at you, "what for? Better without them, if you ask me," he shrugged nonchalantly. He then proceeds to nuzzle his face into your hair to mumble something to your ear, "better access for morning activities,"

Your eyes widened and you can't help but smack the arm that was wrapped around your waist, causing the man to laugh and Hongjoong to mutter something along the lines of 'cheeky, thieving bastard'.

Before Hongjoong could turn the light on his study desk off, you called out to him, "good night, Joongie," you smiled.

He smiled back at you, chuckling at how adorable you looked bundled up even if it's in the arms of his best friend.

"Good night, (Y/N), sleep well,"

Then the lights were off.

taglist :

@raysanshine @peachy-maia @xuxiable @90s-belladonna @theclawofaraven @rae-baby @sungiehan @felix-kithes @nycol-ie @superstarw99 @skkrtnawrskkrt @viv-atiny @the7thcrow @stfu-xeena @laurademaury @multihoe-net @daisyhwa @scoupshushushu @whyisquill @bikiniholic

[ragingbookdragon]

Batsis & Green Lantern, Sittin’ In A Tree. K-I-S-S-I-N–Wait, Is That Our Sister? PT. 2

Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: NSFW (Slightly), Explicit Language Tags: @starflyer-104

Author's Note: Hi I finished this! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Oddly enough, she didn’t make Kyle do anything other than design the first month he was at Wayne Manor. And she was true to her word. He had an entire room to himself, and the room was as big as his whole apartment, bigger if he was honest; and that wasn’t all—he had every instrument an artist could ever want, even some of the newest drawing tablets and pens that hadn’t even come out yet. Limited edition first pick that only someone like her could get her hands on by merely flashing that pretty smile and her last name of “Wayne”. It was a graphic artists dream come alive, and Kyle was afraid that he was going to wake up from it that he never once tried to pinch himself to see if it was a dream or not.

Surprisingly enough though, (Y/N) was being awfully nice to him too. She’d taken him shopping a bunch of times, a whole new wardrobe and even thrown in a new phone and laptop. Of course, Kyle wasn’t a fool and immediately confronted her about using her purchases to hold it over him. That was the one instance in which she wasn’t awfully nice because she sucker-punched him and told him to never call her a manipulator ever again. That she had never once used a purchase to force someone into something—she was a bitch but she wasn’t that kind of bitch.

He even questioned Jason about it once they got back to the manor and his friend cackled at the nice shiner he’d received. (Y/N) doesn’t buy things for people to make them do what she wants. She buys things for people because that’s how she shows she’s fond of them. Honestly, if she buys you what you want, especially if you ask for it, that’s how you know she thinks you’re a friend of hers. Just let her spoil you for a while, Rayner. You’ll miss it when you have to go back to NYC.

Kyle relented then, instead of fighting her on paying for everything, he watched her. Watched her when he asked for something. Just for a split second she’d get a look of honest surprise in her eyes before that smirk crossed her lips and she’d toss it in the basket before picking up her own needs. He found it almost endearing, the way she acted, like she wasn’t expecting him to ask for anything. And Kyle especially liked that look in her eyes. It made his heart beat a little faster when she gazed at him with those big eyes.

And while he did love that look, it only lasted for one month. Hell had come to the manor, and Kyle was smack in the middle of it.

***

“Good morning family!” she greeted cheerfully, placing her hands on Kyle’s shoulders. She received various replies, some happy, some tired, and Kyle gave his own.

“Morning, (Y/N). You seem happy.” He cut into the buttery waffle and started bringing the fork to his mouth when she grabbed his hand and gently but firmly, took the utensil into her mouth. Kyle couldn’t help but go slack jawed as she chewed and swallowed, offering him a smirk.

“I’m sorry,” she purred. “Did you want that?” His mouth opened and closed, and she pushed the plate forward, replacing it with a tall smoothie shaker that was a bright, sickly green.

“Uh…” he started, looking between the shaker and her. “What’s that?”

(Y/N) nodded at it. “That’s your breakfast for this morning.” She flipped the cap open. “It’s got spinach, kale, bananas, vanilla flavored protein powder, pineapple, mint leaves and spirulina.” She grinned. “It’s got all the protein and greens you need for the start of this wonderful day.”

“I don’t even know what spirulina is.” Kyle remarked.

“Blue-green algae super-food.” (Y/N) nodded at it. “From now on you’re going to drink smoothies every morning and then we’re going to weight train and run every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

Her family started snickering around the table and Kyle swallowed thickly daring to ask, “And Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

She grinned wickedly at him. “Combat, Rayner.” Handing him the shake, she quipped, “Drink up me hearties.”

“Yo ho.” Kyle whimpered when he sniffed it and gagged.

***

“C’mon weakling,” she nagged. “You’ve barely gotten through the second set. Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”

Kyle groaned as he pushed the weighted bar up, holding it for a second before letting it fall. “I told you I can bench press one-hundred. You put one-twenty on this bar,” he griped through gritted teeth.

(Y/N) smirked. “Feel that pain though? It’s weakness leaving your body.” She grabbed the bar with one hand, pulling it up and onto the hold; she grinned as Kyle panted, chest heaving up and down with every sharp intake of breath.

“I—don’t know—how you do this—everyday.” He gasped and she snorted.

“No pain, no gain, Rayner.” She walked around him, and Kyle was too weak to keep his eyes off her as she did. “Oh, I can’t wait for tomorrow,” she cooed, throwing a leg over his hips, lowering onto his thighs.

Kyle’s throat tightened and he gazed at her as she leaned forward, propping her elbows on his chest, staring into his eyes. “Pretty close there,” he panted and (Y/N) smiled.

“Closer the better in my opinion.” Her eyes narrowed bemusedly. “From here I can get a good view of your form.” She pulled away. “You’re using your lower back to push strength into your arms. This time, use your chest and shoulders. Deep breath when you push up, breathe out when you lower, okay?”

He nodded, grabbing the bar again. “What set now?”

“Three. Five reps.” (Y/N) pressed a hand to his abdomen. “Core muscles tight. Glutes tight. Keep the stability and use your upper body muscles alright?”

“Got it.” He said, pulling the bar off and she felt his pelvis start to push upwards and she splayed her fingers.

“Chest, Kyle. Not your hips.” He grunted, trying harder, and she put all her weight onto his hips, keeping them pressed down to the bench. It showed in his form as he improved almost instantaneously. “Nice job,” she murmured. “Keep going.”

He got to the fifth rep, starting to go up, when she purred, “Your arms are very strong, Kyle. I wonder just how strong.”

Something in her voice made his heart stutter and he forgot momentarily what he was doing. The bar shifted downwards, and he gasped as it came down at him; (Y/N) reached out, quick as lightning and grabbed it with both hands, standing from his legs to put the bar back.

She looked down at him, concern in her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Sorry…lost my grip.” (Y/N) nodded and shimmied away, holding out a hand to him. “Thanks,” he said, letting her pull him up.

“Take five and go get some water, alright?”

He wanted to shake his head, tell her no, that he could keep going, but he thought against it and started for the water fountain in the corner. As he bent over, he happened to look back at her, seeing her bent over, stretching her legs. Heat pooled low in his gut, and he groaned, turning his eyes away.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed. “Get a grip.”

“Let’s go, Rayner!” she called out behind him. “We’ve got two miles to run!”

Kyle let his head hand and he groaned again.

***

Compared to the day before, getting his ass kicked wasn’t as bad as it had seemed. That being said, (Y/N) wasn’t pulling her punches with him and he hadn’t managed to lay a single hit on her an hour in.

He gasped as she dropped him onto his back and he laid flat, gazing at the ceiling before him; she leaned over him, a cocky smirk on her face. “Need a break?”

“I’m not a novice in hand to hand. I trained with J’onn J’onnz for a while.” He countered with a glare and surprisingly, she nodded, rather impressed.

“I can tell in your form. You counter like he does.” (Y/N) bent down and gently swept away the sweaty hair from his forehead. “You’re learning pretty quick though, if I do say so myself.”

Kyle’s face lit up. “Really? You think—”

“But I can see that it takes you getting your ass handed to you over and over again before the lesson sinks in.”

His face pinched and he griped, “I should’ve seen that coming.”

(Y/N) snorted and patted his head, mocking, “You’re learning.” She smiled. “Now get up. You’ve rested long enough.”

“UGHHH!” he groaned, climbing to his feet.

***

On the third month and final month of the project, Kyle noticed a major improvement in himself. Not only had he lost a few of those extra pounds from snacking, toning all over his body, he’d also managed to expand his stamina a great deal. (Y/N) had congratulated him when he managed to run the various miles without even breaking a sweat.

The designs had come in well too, and Kyle honestly had more money than he knew what to do with. Well, rent and utilities were his most prominent factor, but even then, the money he’d have left over would last him a long time. He almost felt sad when they got to the final week of the project, no longer needing drawings, he was mostly there to make sure the designs were made correctly and with good materials.

(Y/N)’d even given him one of the first sets they produced and even if he was used to seeing his drawings published, it was another thing to see his name on the tag with it. It made him giddy, and he didn’t know how to rope that in with the continued nagging in the back of his brain. That it was all ending in a week. No more breakfast being made, no more laundry done, no more seeing his friends all the time and patrolling with them…and no more (Y/N) constantly.

When he thought about that, Kyle’s chest started to tighten, heart starting to hurt a lot more than he wanted to admit. And he knew why—somewhere along the lines of (Y/N)’s continual ass-kicking and training, he’d fallen in love with her. With her crude attitude and cocky smirks, her proud demeanor and skill, her beauty and the occasional kindness she showed to people, but most importantly, the love she showed for her family.

Most people saw an arrogant bitch who could school people six ways from Sunday both verbally and physically, but what they didn’t see, was the care she paid to those she loved most. To Dick’s anger issues, to Jason’s frequent regrets, to Tim’s consistent depression, to Cassandra’s ever-evolving education, to Damian’s rapid growth, to her father’s hurting soul—she cared so deeply for them, would give anything for them, even her life if it meant. And that made Kyle want to fall at her feet and worship her.

That this beautiful woman who allowed people to talk about her and never cared to correct, was the greatest woman alive, the most loving, the most caring. And she was hard, she was, but her love was tough and those that received it, her siblings and her closest friends, they knew she loved them completely. Kyle knew she cared for him. He only hoped that she wanted more.

***

The production party had been held in France and Kyle had never seen so many elites in one spot that he wasn’t sure how to even drink from his champagne chute correctly. Luckily, (Y/N) had stayed with him all night, tucking herself in his side and covering when he faltered in front of someone who didn’t speak English. And God, there was something very sexy about the way her lips moved when she spoke fluent French.

The party lasted well into the night and by the time they got back to the penthouse, he was dead on his feet. The siblings had dispersed to their rooms and (Y/N) stayed up a bit to speak with Alfred and Bruce over the phone. Kyle lingered around the kitchen with her and when she hung up, she sighed heavily, pulling out the dangling golden earrings and removing the chunky diamond necklace that probably costed more than Kyle did.

Her eyes met his and she smiled tiredly. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“I did,” he said happily. “It was…interesting to see what your life is like.” He chuckled. “Well, your day life that is.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and he wandered around the island, daring enough to reach up and grab her shoulders, digging his thumbs into her muscles. She groaned and hung her head a bit.

“Feel good?” he questioned, and she nodded.

“I don’t typically wear heels unless it’s for a party and I remember why.” Sighing, she pulled away from his arms and he just barely managed to keep the sadness from crossing his face as she turned. “What about you? Are you okay?”

Kyle shrugged. “Feel like I could sleep for a few days straight, but isn’t that how we all work?”

(Y/N) snorted, then sighed wistfully. “I almost don’t want this night to end.”

“How come?” he asked, and she met his gaze.

“I like seeing you flounder like a fish in front of socialites.” He rolled his eyes and she laughed, shoving him lightly. “I’m joking.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. “It’s been fun having around the manor. I know Dick and Jason have enjoyed hanging out with you.” She smiled and pulled away. “You should come back around after tomorrow.”

(Y/N) bypassed him and started towards her room when he spun and called her. “(Y/N).” she stopped and looked at him, waiting, expecting, and Kyle decided to lay his cards to her, letting her decide. “Spend the night with me.”

For a moment, she was surprised, honest to God surprised, then she smiled sweetly, something he wasn’t really used to, and she murmured, “Come with me.”

And Kyle barely managed to keep himself from tripping over his own feet as he hurried after her.

***

“Shut the door behind you,” she said, and he knew that just from the tone of her voice that she was the one who held the power—not that he cared, all he wanted was her. He felt his heart lurch as the door closed and she motioned him to come behind her. “Mind unzipping me?”

Kyle swallowed thickly as he reached up and grasped the gold zipper, gently tugging it down to where it stopped just above her rear. He also happened to notice that she wasn’t wearing any undergarments and he cursed under his breath. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

She grinned and with one hand undid the buttons behind her neck, then reached back, pulling his hands until his palms were pressed to her bare skin. “Be a dear and slip my dress off for me, hmm?” she leaned back into his hands. “Shouldn’t be too hard now.”

Before Kyle knew what he was doing, his hands were moving underneath the fabric of her dress, around her waist and up her chest, gently grabbing at the flesh of her breasts. (Y/N) gasped, a sound so saccharine in his ears, and leaned her head back on his shoulder.

“Kyle,” she whispered and with his pointer fingers, circled her nipples. Another gasp escaped her as she arched into his touch and she turned her head to the underside of his jaw, sucking the skin at his neck.

“(Y/N),” he groaned, rubbing up against her rear. “Baby...”

She was pushing away from him then, much to his dismay and she spun around, grasping at his suit. “Take your clothes off. All of them. Now.”

All that commanding she was doing was shooting straight to his cock and he obeyed immediately, not even caring about the dress shirt as he ripped it open, the buttons scattering across the carpet. He’d just gotten to his belt when he saw (Y/N) pull down her dress and he almost collapsed on his weak knees when her body came into full view.

For three whole months he’d been slowly driven insane by her tight clothes, guiltily imagining what she looked like underneath during the night, more often than not, relieving the urge.

She smirked and walked up to him, digging her fingers into the top of his pants and turned, pulling him along. They reached the beg and she yanked, sending him backwards onto the bed with a grunt, and then she was climbing atop him.

“I thought you wanted—” he gasped when she grabbed him through his pants. “I thought you wanted me to be naked.”

(Y/N) winked and squeezed him. “I changed my mind.” Leaning close, she let her lips hover above his. “I wanna see how needy I can get you.”

Kyle glared at her and surged forward, sealing her lips in a kiss before he wrapped an arm around her waist, tipping them over. She groaned into their kiss and wrapped her legs around waist. He let his free hand roam her body, caressing her side, squeezing her hip, slipping beneath her leg to grab at the flesh of her thigh. Each grasp, each pinch, each touch had her gasping and Kyle rocked against her, moaning under his breath.

Her fingers busied themselves with his belt and when she got it open, she unbuttoned his pants, and pushed them down a bit. Kyle pulled back to help but the second his hands left her body, he knew he made a mistake because she locked her ankles and placed her hands on his shoulders, shoving back. His back hit the bed and she was on top of him again, this time pinning his hands beside his head.

“Bad boy,” she admonished. “You weren’t supposed to move.”

“Sorry,” he retorted, but he wasn’t. Not in the slightest. “Couldn’t help myself.” He accentuated his point with a deep roll of his hips, and she grip briefly weakened as she ground herself down on him.

“You’re going to help yourself.” She warned, eyes devouring him where he lay. “Every movement is fifteen minutes added to how long I’m going to tease you.”

Kyle grinned. “Yes ma’am.”

(Y/N) matched his grin and before he could even see her move, she had a pillow from the top of the bed placed on his chest, long side up, enough to cover her from sight.

“What are you—” The door opened, and he tipped his head back on the mattress, seeing Dick and Jason gaping at them from the doorway.

For a solid moment, they all stared at one another, too shocked to say a word, then Dick and Jason were letting out the girliest screams Kyle had ever heard them make and they slammed the door shut.

(Y/N) sighed heavily and pressed her face into the pillow. “Lovely. Now we’re going to be all over the group chats.”

Kyle blinked, looking up at her. “You think so?”

“I know so.” She looked at him. “I knew I should’ve booked a penthouse across from this one.” (Y/N) started crawling off him when he reached out and grabbed her hips, keeping her in place; she cocked a brow. “Really? Your mood’s not killed?”

A flash of green appeared in her vision, then the door locked, and he smirked at her. “Nothing can kill my mood for you.” He squeezed her tightly. “Is yours?”

“Not in the slightest.” She reached down and traced the smirk on his lips. “Do me a favor though.”

“Anything,” Kyle agreed, and she grinned wickedly.

“Call me ma’am again.”

[leviiattacks]

Seven minutes in Heaven with Physics Major Levi

author note :: i lost the ask but anon i do not know what this is. reading it sounded better in my head but physics major levi with reader who likes him is that a good description???? HM ANYWAY enjoy it’s not too great i’ve been revising nonstop for exams but i might as well have finished this off for the anon who requested it :-)

word count :: 2.5k probably... hm who knows maybe 3k

when you and levi become friends it’s definitely unexpected to say the least. everyone is naturally very confused by the peculiar pairing. levi doesn’t really... go out of his way to befriend anyone really??? so for him to approach you in the middle of the library and start talking about how he noticed you shared a class together was out of the ordinary

the flow of the conversation is a little awkward at first, you’re revising for a final exam and don’t really appreciate the disruption but you’re not confident enough to tell him to leave.

at one point an awkward silence drifts between the two of you until he points out you’ve completely RUINED your notes and have been looking over the wrong lectures for the up and coming physics exam

later on into the night levi’s stood sighing next to you. he tells you to take your pick from the pot noodle section — “hey, i know we literally just met but i’m telling you a chicken pot noodle is gonna make you feel better.”

you’re so distraught that he has to pick it up for you and pay

and that is how you and levi become friends !!!

if it’s of any relevance yes you passed the final (all because of levi giving you his organised binder full of notes and telling you to make use of it)

you know it just sorta happens but through all of the all nighters you’ve pulled with levi by your side you become used to his presence nearby. in fact most of the the time it’s difficult to even find you anywhere without him. you’re both practically joined at the hip

levi’s pretty protective of you, hates the whole party scene but is willing to tag along if you’re going. at first you think it’s because he feels more comfortable stepping out of his comfort zone if you’re there with him but his intentions become more evident later on

any time someone makes you uncomfortable he’s by your side, if you happen to get into any sort of trouble he’s the person people call to help you because who else knows you the way levi does?

currently you and levi are at another party, you tend to keep to yourself and only ever talk to your close friends. it’s also not like you to partake in games, you’re far too nervous to play anything like seven minutes in heaven but for some reason you find yourself wanting to take part JUST this once

maybe it’s the fear of never making fun memories to tell your future children about

then again why on earth would you be telling your children about your experience kissing a random man in a closet??

either way, participating shouldn’t hurt!!! you’ve got to loosen up a little!!!

levi’s a little surprised you agree to play nevertheless he still sits next to you, the both of you have your legs crossed on the floor, your knees are touching and you aren’t sure if he feels the same warm sensation that you feel. it bubbles in the pit of your stomach – you feel oddly content

“levi!! anyone you want the bottle to land on ???” hange a mutual friend of yours leans in handing him the glass bottle

levi gives the bottle a disgusted look before his gaze flicks over to you.

“i’m only here because of y/n, i ‘m not playing.”

that doesn’t satisfy hange and they begin to groan complaining that he can’t stay unless he spins the bottle

“look you don’t have to do anything in the closet, okay??” hange’s begging him at this point, he’s still holding up pretty well and for some reason you’re disappointed. it’s almost like you hoped he’d spin the bottle just so it would land on you

levi takes notice of your frown and guesses you want him to be included, he isn’t one for games like these but if it’ll make you happy so be it. there’s still the chance it’ll land on you and his thought process falters for a second.

he thinks he really wouldn’t mind if the bottle landed on you and so he ends up nodding and agreeing to play.

anyway it’s not as if he isn’t guilty of imagining the two of you being a little more than friends

ok wait!!!! it’s completely innocent HE SWEARS!!!!

he’s never told you about it but sometimes he thinks if he was a little more straightforward that day at the library and asked for your number MAYBE just MAYBE his intentions would be clearer and he wouldn’t be stuck in the friend zone for this long

he should’ve used a stupid physics pick up line he knows you love those

something like – “i’m attracted to you more than an electron’s attracted to a proton.”

or maybe — “i’d fall for you even in the absence of gravity”

ok... maybe you wouldn’t have got that one considering you were revising the wrong content and probably forgot about that topic

he can’t imagine himself saying those things but if it would make you finally see him as a potential love interest and not a best friend he wouldn’t mind having to force it out

but still it’s not really a secret that levi has a soft spot for you, literally everyone can see it. when has he ever gone out of his way to save a seat for anyone? when has he ever willingly gone to a party? WHEN has levi actually let someone lay their head on his shoulder??

he only ever let’s you do that stuff

let’s actually discuss the head on his shoulder thing!!!

whenever finals approach you’re always sucked in by huge amounts of work and barely get to sleep, levi’s always hovering over your shoulder reminding you to catch a few hours but of course you don’t listen. you think you’ll be just fine if you rely on an energy drink and two hours of sleep to get by

but levi knows you better than you know yourself. it’s hour seven into the day and you’re already dozing off in your seat. slowly but gradually your head tilts forward. levi’s sitting across you contemplating whether or not he should prop your head back up like a nice friend would or if he should wait for you to smack your forehead right into the solid oak table.

he ends up making his decision last minute, your head flies towards the table and if it were anyone else he’d just let them jolt awake from the harsh impact but it’s you and his body won’t let him ignore you.

on reflex his hand flies out and in the matter of a split second he’s holding your head back. he’s surprised you haven’t woken up and he’s even more surprised he bothered to help you

before that happens levi knows he likes you, he knows he enjoys your company, he’s aware you make him happy but he thinks he’s willing to just be friends with you because clearly you don’t want to pursue anything.

you haven’t even flirted with him before aside from the witty “you remind me of an exothermic reaction” joke that you made one time

oh and there’s also the additional fact that you had a boyfriend up until quite recently so he’s sure you don’t see him romantically

honestly he’s fine with not dating you but something about seeing you overwork yourself like that has him simmering in anger. if he were your boyfriend he would have forced you into bed whether you liked it or not

if he were your boyfriend he’d never break up with you because he “found someone better.” he can’t even manage to imagine anyone better than you.

levi shuffles into the seat next to yours and places your head onto his shoulder. a few students shoot him questioning looks but the deadly glare he sends back is enough to deter them from coming any closer

it’s a little funny actually, by the time you wake up you’re rubbing at your eyes, you don’t even notice how close levi is to you until his hot breath fans across your neck. it seems like he’s dozed off whilst trying to make notes on fluid dynamics

wait

levi. right. next. to. your. neck.

should you move????

no, he might wake up he barely sleeps and you don’t want to mess up his schedule even more

that day you choose to drift off back to sleep as if you never woke up to his breath against your neck.

“OHHHH LEVI LANDED ON Y/N????”

your head shoots up NOW you’ve completely been dragged away from your thoughts.

“lucky for you both. guess you won’t have to do anything and stand there for seven minutes. told ya levi there was nothing to worry about B-)”

hange without warning pulls you both up by your arms, you’ve yet to see levi’s reaction, you’re too stunned to have noticed his slack jaw or wide eyes

“HAVE FUN!”

and with that said and done you and levi are shoved into the cleaning closet

“well, i’m glad it landed on you. i won’t have to do anything.” levi seems happy as can be, you don’t really know why but it stings a little

he doesn’t even seem to stop for a second to wonder if you’d maybe want to do anything

are you just not his type ????

hange once told you levi liked organised people and well,, you’re anything but organised. you’d probably pass out from the work load of your physics lectures if not for levi always helping you out

scowling to yourself you try to ignore just how awkward the situation is until levi plops down on the floor in front of you

“you okay?” he asks looking genuinely concerned

“i- yeah i’m good.”

your eyes dart away trying to look at anything but him. you can’t deny he looks good today, you actually helped him slick his hair back - the entire time he complained about the hair gel feeling weird but he looks great and now you can’t even stare at him for more than a second

“i’m guessing you’d have preferred if the bottle landed on someone else.”

leaning forward without even noticing it you aggressively deny what he says. “NO!!! i like being stuck here with you.”

levi looks stunned by your outburst but nods “oh, did you feel pressured to join the game? we can leave if you want—”

“no, no i– you aren’t– oh god i mean, look. i can explain– do i need to explain???”

completely choking up in front of him and sputtering before slamming your lips shut and saying absolutely nothing is probably one of the most awkward things you’ve done in your ENTIRE existence

levi reaches out for your knee, something that’s usually seen as him being friendly only feels intimate tonight. his thumb strokes comforting circles into your skin. the situation doesn’t make it any better, essentially you’re meant to be making out with him right now

“is something bothering you?”

there it is again. that look. he only seems more concerned than before and you hate yourself for not even thinking about your friendship before you open your mouth.

“do you not want to kiss me because we’re best friends or is it something else?”

there it is. you’ve said it.

you see levi’s face contort from a mix of confusion to what looks like disgust then shock. screwing your eyes shut you know you’ve ruined everything now. he’s never going to speak to you, never going to approach you again. you’re mentally preparing for him to ditch you at this party right here right now

but then you notice his hand still steadily placed on your knee, he’s now stopped with the circles, his grip is bruising

“do you want me to kiss you?”

his question isn’t really expected, it helps you find the courage to look your best friend in the eye.

it’s pretty dark but you can still make out the familiar shadows of his face. the butterflies rush up from your stomach all the way to your throat.

mild regret fills you, usually his curtains obscure his piercing gaze but the way you’ve styled his hair gives him a better view of you, there’s nowhere for you to hide

not even stopping to think about the possibility of him teasing you right now, all you care about is telling him the truth. you’ve come all the way here you may as well finish off what you’ve started

“would you be mad if i said i’d like it if you did?”

levi doesn’t need any more confirmation than that, he swoops in yanking you by your waist. his knees are still pressed against the floor and so you find yourself leaning down into his mouth and craning your neck downwards

his chest is completely pressed against yours. the drumming of your heart is so loud you feel self conscious but levi’s soft lips moving against yours distract you from that

not even ten seconds in and you feel out of breathe but not in an overwhelming way. levi’s pace isn’t at all what you imagined it to be like. he’s soft and slow yet calloused and rough around the edges, some how he still manages to make the kiss sweet

his left hand leisurely travels to the small of your back, the other hand now caresses your cheek. his fingertips are anything but soft but the way he handles you is tender and endearingly delicate.

you smile into the kiss and almost instantly levi’s lips tug upwards too. his take on seven minutes in heaven is quite easily the most romantic thing you’ve been subjected to. instead of a passionate make out you’ve been given a honeyed introduction to a new side of him

the kiss ends much quicker than you anticipate, you open your mouth to whine and convince levi that the two of you should still have a solid minute left before hange returns but he presses his index finger against your lips

“later. i promise.” his voice is heavy and if his blushed cheeks are anything to go by he’s thoroughly enjoyed your session together

at his reassurance you comply and take the time to have a better look at him

his lips are wet – some of your lip gloss has clearly stuck to him. his hair isn’t as well styled as it was before, seeing him like this makes you feel a surge of confidence. you know you did that to him.

so... what is someone to do with a sudden boost in confidence?

hit your new possible love interest with a pick up line :-) !!!

“heyyy so i know the spring constant of my mattress, would you be interested in taking some data with me?”

slapping your shoulder lightly he’s yet to gain his composure back, levi’s genuinely out of breathe now trying to steady himself and your comment doesn’t do him any favours that’s for sure

“my god you have no sham–”

without warning the door to your left swings open you and levi flinch trying to scramble away from eachother only to fail, hange marches in before stopping dead in their tracks.

all they see is levi knelt in front of you, hair disheveled huffing like his life depends on it

then their focus shifts to you, you’re sure some of your makeup has smudged and the entire scenario looks suspicious

levi seems as if he’s about to warn hange to not tell anyone and keep this a secret for now but they sprint away before any of you have the opportunity to ask for some privacy

not even ten seconds later a collision can be heard alongside a series of thuds and then hange’s yelling towards the end of the hallway “GUYS??? THEY ACTUALLY DID IT???”

for some reason the cheers coming from the living room warm your heart

you guess your friends figured out the direction of your relationship long before you and levi did :-)

[knewyouwereaweirdo]

you know we’re gonna be legends (johnny centric)

i’m going to be completely honest here, make a disclaimer first and i will not sugarcoat it—johnny will die in this fic. it’s a one-chapter thing, haven’t been able to get it out of my head since forever, and now i’ve finally written it. posting it on tumblr as well as ao3 (archive of our own).

summary:  johnny tries to risk his life to save jimmy crystal in a fire and ends up in peril on the verge of death.

this story contains major character death, rather graphic descriptions of wounds, the works (not too graphic since i’m bad at descriptions). have fun! (apologies in advance for doing this, uh...)

There were screams and that was all that they could hear.

They didn’t know much about how it had started—but their speculation was that the fire props from Johnny’s performance had gotten a bit out of hand, causing the stage to erupt into flames and sending huge crowds of people into a spiral of panic as they rushed for the doors.

The Crystal Theater was burning, burning, burning—tendrils of flame rose into the night as they challenged to swallow them whole and completely. Firefighter trucks and ambulances had already lined up in front of the building, flashing their red and blue lights and roaring their sirens.

“Is everyone all here?” Buster called out frantically as he skidded to a stop on his little feet in front of the burning building, looking around as he counted the members of his theater crew. “Johnny, Meena? Ash? Rosita?”

“We’re here, Mr. Moon!” Meena’s familiar voice broke out from amongst the panicking crowd and Buster turned to the side in relief to see Meena, Johnny, Ash, Rosita, and Gunter hurrying towards him, Johnny holding Ms. Crawly—not too far away at their heels were Johnny’s dad and uncles. Their new addition Porsha was also amongst them, and so was Johnny’s new friend Nooshy. Even Clay Calloway was with them. They all seemed out of breath, terrified, and some of them a tiny bit worse for wear, but they were fine. Unharmed.

Buster let out a sigh of relief. “You’re all safe.”

“We managed to make it out through the back door before everyone started trampling each other.” Ash blurted out, a smudge of char on her face.

“Rosita, your piglets?”

“Everyone’s here.” Rosita said, shaking but the small look of relief reflecting across her dilated pupils. “Norman and I counted them, I sent them back to a safer place.”

“So we’re all here, right?” Everyone nodded at Buster’s words, and he nodded back. “Good, good—we need to go, now, the fire department will take care of this and make sure the fire’s out—”

Johnny silently counted everyone in his head—everybody was there, alright. But there was someone missing. Someone that he hadn’t even considered adding to his count, but still there enough to acknowledge. Then it hit him.

Crystal. Jimmy Crystal.

“Mr. Crystal’s still in there!” Johnny’s words pierced through everyone like a knife, although barely heard amongst the screams and the cries and the earsplitting roaring of the flames.

“Daddy!” Porsha cried out in realization and Rosita grabbed onto her for support as she burst into sudden tears. “M-my daddy’s still in there!”

Johnny then turned to the lot of them. “You guys hurry on and get to the hotel, wherever it’s safe—I’ll be right back.” He then turned around and started towards the burning building.

Marcus grabbed his arm and held onto him with a vice grip. “What do you think you’re doin’?”

“Dad, I have to save him.” Johnny said, his voice growing more desperate by the minute. “I—”

“You listen here, I saw cracks starting to form in the main lobby on the way out just now.” Marcus growled. “That damned building is going to collapse any second soon, and I am not going to stand here acting stupid enough to let you go in there!”

“But dad—”

“He tried to kill Moon, you saw that. He tried to kill Moon and who knows what he might have been plannin’ to do with the other lot of you—to you.” Marcus’s heart thumped wildly inside his chest. “Don’t be an idiot, son.”

“Dad, I know he did the most terrible things—but me knowin’ that he’s still in there and not makin’ any attempts to try and save him would just be stoopin’ down to his level.” Johnny said, all in a rush of words but firm and clear enough to understand.

“Johnny.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to live with tha’, dad.”

“Johnny—”

“I’ll be back in just a quick second, I promise.”

“Johnny, you’re crazy.” Ash spat out, almost angrily, as she made his way up to him. “This is Jimmy Crystal we’re talking about—if anything, he deserves this for everything he’s tried to do to us.”

“Nobody deserves to die, Ash.” Johnny replied, his tone soft but firm before looking back up at his dad. “Dad, I’ll be back as soon as I go, I promise you. Just give me a chance.”

Marcus didn’t reply, and the hold he kept on his son didn’t relax.

“Dad, please.”

“...”

“Dad, he’s goin’ to die!”

“... if you’re not back in five minutes, I’m goin’ in there to find you.” Marcus growled as he let go of his grip on Johnny’s shoulder pad of his costume. “Hurry. Be careful.”

A very brief smile—a very quick and small one but a smile nonetheless—broke across his face as he took several steps back to the building, towards the flames. “Thanks for believin’ in me, dad.” And with that, before Marcus could tell him that he changed his mind or say anything else, Johnny darted back towards the building, leaving his friends crying out with distress for him in his wake. Marcus didn’t miss Buster yelling, crying out for his son for him to come back, that it was dangerous.

Marcus then realized that this had been a grave mistake.

Johnny pushed past the broken glass sliding doors and ran straight to the fire while the other continued to run past him towards the direction that he had come from. The smoke from the fire hit him almost immediately, as soon as he took his first step into the theater. It was clouding in his vision, making it hard to see anything ahead of him. His eyes began to water as the smoke began to burn his lungs. Johnny couldn’t help but choke out a few coughs before ducking lower to try and avoid the smoke as much as possible. He hid his own nose and mouth in the corner of his elbow, blinking to get rid of the useless tears.

He stumbled his way over some bigger chunks of debris and wires, supposedly fallen from the ceiling, looking for the white wolf. He clasped his hand over his mouth because his elbow wasn’t doing anything at this point, and his lungs felt like they were on fire.

“Mr. Crystal!” He called out, his voice cracking under pressure. An acrid, almost toxic smell pierced his nose. “Mr. Crystal, where are you?”

He knew he was being stupid by not moving around at a lower height, but he had noticed in seconds that it would just completely hinder his speed and movement. It would be fine as long as he just didn’t breathe in too much spoke. Another life came first.

A loud groan that resonated within the building, echoes like a monster and bouncing off the walls made Johnny nearly freeze to the floor but he forced his rigid body to move. Bits of debris rained down on him like hail and he brought his arm up over his head as he stifled a coughing fit.

Just then, he heard loud cracks above his head and something fell right at his head, cutting against his eye as it dropped—he put both hands over his right eye with a cry as his back slammed back against one of the marble pillars from his stumbling feet. Johnny pulled his shaking hands back and noticed blood on his palm. Luckily, it was only his eyelid. With a pained grunt, he gathered his senses again and set back off deeper into the building to look for Jimmy Crystal.

Flames and fire tendrils licked at the ground underneath him—the building continued to groan loudly, bits of debris and dust raining down on him wherever he went. He really couldn’t see much ahead of him anymore, although it had just been mere minutes since he had entered the theater, his vision blurred and somewhat foggy. Everything was glowing a dangerous, deadly red. Paintings on walls were burning and falling apart, giving off a pungent, acrid odor. Breathing was getting more difficult every second,

Johnny then, out of the corner of his eye, noticed a familiar flash of white—he urged his feet to move and to his relief, found Jimmy Crystal near one of the theater entrances from the lobby, struggling under a piece of debris. Crystal lifted his head to spot Johnny and waved his hand over, coughs wracking his sentence. “Well, don’t just stand there—get me out of here!”

Johnny hurried over and dropped to his knees beside the wolf, apologizing profusely for no actual reason found as he grabbed the chunk of debris and began to lift it up, groaning with effort. The intense heat thundering around him was slowly starting to make him feel sick and nauseous, making his head pound and his stomach churn. His insides felt unnaturally hot as if someone had shoved a burning rock down his throat. The flames licked at his arms and burned his fur and his skin, and Johnny coughed and sputtered.

He finally threw the cement debris off with a cry as soon as Jimmy Crystal managed to crawl out from underneath it. “Help me up.” Jimmy demanded and Johnny did so, knowing that his attitude was the least of his problems. He helped Jimmy Crystal up to his feet and began back towards the exit—the loud cracking that thundered around the building was telling him that their time was almost up.

“The exit’s right ahead, c’mon!” Johnny called out over the earsplitting noises, helping Jimmy Crystal along with his limp, trying not to breathe in as much smoke as possible. He knew he had done the right thing, and he was happy that he did—and Johnny knew that once he reached those doors, he’d get to see his dad and his uncles and his friends again, and everything would be fine.

His breaths grew shorter and his coughs got worse with every step he took through the smoke, his lungs feeling as if they were choking him, something heavy lodged in his throat. Blood flowed from above his brow over his eye, and everything ahead of him just seemed like a complete blur.

The sounds of a loud crash just above his head gave him just about enough time to look up and notice big chunk of concrete falling towards them at breakneck speed from the ceiling—Johnny’s eyes widened in terror and he just managed to shove Crystal out of the way.

But it wasn’t enough time for him to get out of the way himself.

The concrete fell right onto Johnny, crushing him, and he heard the terrible sounds of bones snapping and a searing pain shot through his lower body like a fire as he let out a scream. It exploded in his head like a blinding whiteness. The pain was like needles that had been dipped into alcohol had been jammed through his skin, like his legs had been replaced with ice and electricity wired straight into his spine.

Through his blurring vision, he noticed Jimmy Crystal slowly getting back onto his feet, and grasped onto that tiny bit of hope. He tried to get his elbows underneath him but his chin crashed back onto the rubble in vain, and a tortured groan escaped through his throat.

“Mr. Crystal—” He gasped out, clawing helplessly towards the wolf’s feet, bits of rock and cement cutting into the skin of his palms. A whimper burst out from between his lips as he begged. “P-please, help—”

The wolf stood still in his ragged, burnt suit, did nothing; it was almost as if the smoke wasn’t hurting him at all.

“Please—”

And then, Jimmy Crystal burst into a laugh, a maniac one—and the last bit of hope Johnny had been holding onto for dear left just vanished on the spot.

“Oh, kid.” Crystal shook his head as he brought his shoe down onto his outstretched hand, beginning to twist the sole of his shoe and put a lot more pressure onto it than Johnny had expected—the bones of his fingers cracked under the weight and Johnny let out a pained cry, his arm jerking in fruitless attempts to move his hand out from under it. “I can’t do that.”

“Wh-wh—”

“It’s just something I have unfinished between me and your little boss, Moon. A complete, utter nobody, I’ll make him regret every scandal he attached to my name.” Jimmy stood up straight and wiped the back of his hand against his snout, dragging a smear of striking red blood across his white fur, matted with ash and soot. He brushed the dust off of his suit. “You wouldn’t understand—it’s just business. Don’t take it personally.”

He finally removed his foot from Johnny’s hand and it instantly moved to flex it and try and rid itself of the pain—instead, burning agony shot up his arm and he had to clench his teeth not to scream. His hand shook uncontrollably.

“Just know that this? This isn’t my doing.” He gave Johnny a casual, rather sickening smile. “Blame Moon—that loser is the one who ruined everything I had.”

“Mr. Moon—” He managed to gasp out, and felt the small move of his chest briefly heaving out for breath send the feeling of a thousand knives stabbing into his body like white, searing torture. “—is m-more of a hero… th-than you’ll ever be.” His shaking hand trembled as it slowly clenched into a weak fist.

“… let’s see if you still think that once you’re dead and gone.” Crystal then turned and leaving Johnny crushed underneath the wired concrete, ran off, limping and stumbling towards the still-open exit.

Johnny had never been more terrified in his life—he whimpered as he tried to move himself out from under the crushing weight to no avail, his nails burying themselves into the rubble and dirt underneath him as he struggled—his back hurt so bad, felt like a beast clawing and tearing at his insides, as if something sharp had impaled his body.

Coughs and wheezes tore through his torso and limbs, sending stabs of agony like a searing, hot knife. He couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe—

He was going to die.

…

For Marcus, it was the longest five minutes of his entire life.

He kept his eyes fixed on the entrance of the theater, surrounded completely by flames at this point, his heart almost beating out of his chest. Stan was the one barely holding him back from running inside and finding his son.

His son.

“It’s been a whole five minutes and he’s not back.” Marcus blurted out—he barely heard Meena sobbing in the background, some of them brokenly calling out for Johnny, others actually trying to fight to get in there.

“H-he should have been back by now.” Buster said, the panic rising his voice to the edge. “Why isn’t he back—”

“I need to get in there, goddammit—” Nooshy cried out as Ash held her back as much as she could. “He’s going to die in there if he’s not back soon!”

The theater building dangerously groaned and more glass and debris came raining down onto the pavement, sending everyone screaming once again. Everyone had managed to evacuate at this point, all except for Johnny and Jimmy Crystal, who were both nowhere to be found.

“There! There’s Jimmy Crystal!” Someone—a tiger, he presumed—shouted and pointed at someone emerging from the flames, limping along on his two legs. Paramedics rushed to him immediately.

“... where’s Johnny?” The words left Marcus as nothing above a whisper, feeling suddenly numb and dumbfounded. If Johnny had gone in to save Crystal, but Crystal had come back out on his own without him, then—

A deafening crash interrupted his thoughts and everyone looked up to see the bottom of the building crumbling into pieces, massive cracks cascading over the marble walls with lightning speed—the cracks gave in the walls began to break, bringing the entire theater down with them as the flames erupted from the doors and windows, thundering the grounds around them. The smoke rushed towards them like a sandstorm and everyone held onto each other, eyes screwing shut as they turned their heads away from the explosion that echoed terribly like a god’s cry of anguish, the heat beating at their faces.

There was a terrible ringing and for a short second, Marcus couldn’t hear anything—but then it started to clear, little by little, and he caught sounds of sirens, shouts, cries, screams, and sobs. Animals around them were huddled about, staring at the horrendous scene ahead of them. Marcus looked too… and his heart dropped.

What used to be Crystal Theater was now a massive pile of rubble and debris, dust clouding and flames engulfing the mess that stood instead in its place.

“... Johnny. Johnny!” He inhaled sharply and near burst into a coughing fit from the sudden mass of hot air that burned his throat, which he managed to stifle. ”Johnny!”

“Everybody, stand back!” An officer was saying, trying to hold everyone away from the fallen, burning wreckage—but Marcus couldn’t care. He didn’t care about his own safety, or others, for that matter, more than he cared about his only son’s.

His only son, who was buried somewhere in all those ruins—battered, burned, bruised, wounded, or maybe even…

“My son’s in there!” He blurted out, his voice cracking as he forced himself forward, pushing past the crowd. “Get outta the way, my son’s in there!” He could feel the chill in his blood, coldness bringing the synapses of his brain to a stand still. He was almost hurting from the consistent thundering of his heart in his chest and it was becoming almost unbearable—and he knew it wasn’t something that would subside unless he found Johnny.

Thanks for believin’ in me, dad.

Those words that Johnny had said to him with the tiniest smile before disappearing into the theater.

He really had meant it, hadn’t he?

He remembered back to the days when he wanted his own son to grow up to be just like him, just like his uncles—it had been late when he realized how much of a terrible person he actually was, and how even more terrible he must have been in Johnny’s life as a father.

Marcus had tried to do everything to force him to be something that Johnny didn’t want to do, kept him shadowed from what he had the potential to do this whole time…

Albeit, Johnny had fought his way out of that shadow on his own and without Marcus’ help, had come this far to become a shining star.

Marcus should have believed in him sooner.

He watched through a blur as the fire slowly died down from the spray of hoses onto the broken, dust-settled debris, the heat dying down as Marcus approached the rubble, pushing forcefully through the crowd of animals. He noticed the rest of the Moon theater cast following behind him, right on his tail, just as desperate as he was.

The police and paramedics failed to keep them back from the rubble any longer, and the search for Johnny finally began—they all began digging within the debris, piece by piece and wire by wire, huge fragments of walls lifted and disposed of. Marcus’ hands were cut, scraped, abraised, but he couldn’t care any less.

Hours and hours of searching went by, and yet the center of the city still glowed with red and blue flashing lights, and the screams of powerful sirens. The search crew had been looking for Johnny’s body, dead or alive, for too long for comfort. The group continued to search for them, hoarse voices calling for his name, broken and throats swollen.

“Oh god, oh god, I found him, h-he’s here—” Meena’s wail alerted everyone in less than a second—Marcus had never moved so quickly from one place to another.

“Where is he? Where’s Johnny?” He barked out as he pushed past a couple of Johnny’s friends and stopped beside Buster Moon; the sight in front of him tore him to pieces.

There Johnny was, completely motionless with his eyes glazed and glassy, sprawled underneath a huge chunk of concrete of what seemed to be what once was the lobby ceiling, a mess of blood absolutely everywhere. The show makeup and the paint he had had on his face was matted and erased here and there, lines of crimson across the skin and fur in their wake—burns and charred fur covered his cheeks and the arms outstretched at the sides of his head. One of his hands seemed clearly crushed and broken, half-folded fingers bruised and bloody.

He looked dead.

He looked dead and it was terrifying.

Marcus wasted no time in grabbing the huge piece of debris, hooking his fingers onto the bottom of it as he tried his utter best not to spiral into a panic. He grunted as he lifted it—the others soon joined in without a word, the shock of seeing their friend in such a state having struck them to the core.

Without too much effort, all of them together managed to lift the piece of the ceiling off of him and Marcus threw it completely aside with a loud groan. He then immediately dropped down to his knees beside his son onto the earth, soot, and dust underneath him, coloring his community service clothes a charcoal black. A burnt odor filled his nose as both his hands hovered helplessly over Johnny’s battered, motionless body, unknown of what to do.

There had been a jagged piece of steel wire that had completely impaled Johnny’s side near his back—and now was the white jagged end of a broken bone, presumably a rib, cutting through the skin and blood having run in thick scarlet rivers over his side. The wound was sliced in the flesh of his lower stomach, heavily having oozed out blood, some of it already having crusted in his clothes and the ground beneath him. One of his legs seemed twisted into an angle that just wasn’t supposed to be. His clothes were charred and burnt. The blood stained his cheek and his costume, his hands, trailed down from the corner of his lip—red, red, red.

An invisible hand clasped over Marcus’ mouth; an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline pierced his heart, unloading in an instant. He felt his ribs heaving as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate his lungs. His head was a carousel of fears spinning out of control, each one pushing his mind into blackness. He wanted to run; he needed to freeze. Sounds that were near felt far away, like he was no longer in the body that sat almost paralyzed on the bloody earth.

“Johnny.”

His shaking hand finally moved to rest against, gently, on top of his son’s head, touching what was once soft, glistening fur now a matted, blood-tangled mess. He stroked his hair, thumb briefly brushing over his ear, which was also painted crimson.

“Johnny, get up. I know you’re still there somewhere.”

No response.

“Johnny…”

“... da…”

Marcus froze—Johnny’s eyes, which had been glazed over earlier, were wearily looking up towards him without any focus. Unshed tears were running down from his eyes across his cheek, which were now threatening to close with each jittered blink.

“Johnny, y-you’re alrigh’—you’re, you’re—” Marcus carefully cradled Johnny’s head in his hands, careful not to accidentally hurt him. “—thank god, I-I was startin’ to think you were—”

“Da, i-it hurts…”

“I know my boy, I know—help is comin’, the paramedics are on their way here right now, just hold on a lil’ longer—”

But it was almost as if Johnny couldn’t hear him; the little focus that had previously been there had started to fade away, the small light in his eyes starting to die.

He was fading away.

“... no, no, wait, Johnny, listen to me—” Marcus looked around at the others surrounding them for help. Nooshy, bursting into a broken, choked sob, hurried away to get to the paramedics who were busily trying to unfold a stretcher. Meena followed her suit. “Johnny, y-ya can’t do this to me, y—” He choked on his words and tears started to blur his vision as he turned his head. “Get here quicker, ya bloody fuckin’ paramedics, what the hell is takin’ you so long—”

“Marcus.” Buster’s gentle voice didn’t do anything to deter him. “Marcus—”

“Johnny, Johnny, don’t do this to me, don’t you—” Marcus swallowed the huge lump in his throat, begging, praying that whatever god was up there kept his son alive. Whatever it takes, whatever it takes. It could be him instead, just please…

Whatever it takes.

His son was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

So without uttering another word, he gently cradled Johnny in his arms, watching as the life slowly drained out of him little by little. Watching him fade away from the world that had raised him to be the deserved star and hero he had grown up to be, and Marcus couldn’t help but hear that inner voice, screaming at him continuously, incessantly—

—that it should have been him.

“... da, I…”

“I’m here, Johnny boy.”

His chest painfully moved as he struggled to get the words out, straining with his breath every small inhale. Marcus waited, his heart being torn apart knowing the sound of what he knew to be Johnny’s last breaths more agonizing than any torture he'd ever been through.

“... ‘m sorry.”

And before Marcus could tell him that it was alright, that he forgave him, that there was nothing to be sorry for and that he had no fault and if there was anyone to blame it was his own self… the final exhale, the final breath left Johnny’s lips and his head slightly lolled to the side as his eyes completely glazed over, his body growing limp in Marcus’ arms.

A terrible chill ran up his spine and he felt numb, like someone had trapped him in a lake of ice. “... Johnny? Johnny.” Marcus slightly shook the boy in his arms.

“Marcus…” Buster’s voice said meekly from behind him, broken and sounding as if he were about to choke any second.

“Johnny, get up. Get up, Johnny.” He tried shaking his son one more time to no avail. “Johnny, Johnny—”

And then Marcus cradled his son’s dead body in his arms and sobbed, crying like he never had before, crying in a way he would have never dared to have done in front of Johnny for years, screams of bloody murder and anguish and grief and the rage and the sadness that was ripping his heart apart into shreds, tearing at his insides.

One last time, those brown eyes—his mother’s eyes—had opened. And one last time, Johnny spoke.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Newcomer: Chapter 2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader

Words: 2.3k 

Summary: The Outer Banks was a place you’d only heard of until recently. The unfolding changes in your life had led you to this very moment, and it appears you still have much to learn... 

Warnings: swearing, (***) minor time jumps 

A/N - sorry for the delay, had a huge assignment due and work <3 I know this is a slow ass start to the series, but trust I’m trying to build momentum LMAO 

It had been just over a week, and seemingly still trying to settle in. Majority of your belongings, clothes and other sentiments have now been unpacked and neatly placed away in their new space, although you felt the hardest part wasn’t over just yet. Yourself, Caleb and Anya still struggled to find your way around town, mostly succumbing to the help of Topper, who despite initially being ever so welcoming, had grown slightly agitated from the coercion of having to always help. He’d be dragged out of whatever event or plans he had made, just to help out, especially during the grueling days of the unpacking stages of moving. Not to mention the not so discrete argument you’d overheard, just a few days ago, that he had with his mother, complaining about not being able to enjoy his own summer break. 

You couldn’t deny that your presence did somewhat impede on his break, therefore, the guilt was there. You knew you’d have to start taking on some accountability, with or without Topper’s help. 

“Y/N, can we just run to the store real quick, I need to grab a few things and you know how hopeless I am with directions…Please, come with, or else I’ll have to get Topper and we both know how much he loves-”

“Yeah, yeah-”

With a reluctant sigh, you tagged the page you’d just turned over in your book and propped yourself off the bed, adjusting your midi skirt before nodding in agreement. 

One of the most convenient things about the Outer Banks was that nearly everything was within walking distance. It gave you a chance to explore the scenic landscape and water front, and perhaps even chat with a few of the locals you hadn’t yet properly met. 

“So, how are things looking with that JJ guy? He seems pretty cute,” You intrigued, nudging your sister’s shoulder into conversation. 

“Yeah he’s great actually, he's a really funny guy. He, uhm, he wants to meet but-” 

“But what, Anya? That’s exciting! We sure could do with someone else’s company that isn’t Topper.” 

“Yeah, I know but, I, well we, don’t really know him that well. Who’s to say he isn’t some sociopath, Y/N.”

“I highly doubt anyone around here is a psychopath, Anya. Look around, this is a place people come around to relax or retire.”

“Don’t speak too soon, Y/N…”

For some odd reason, you hesitated in a response. Anya was right, you had no familiarity with the people of Outer Banks, although it just seemed like an outrageous place for crime. Ever since arriving, you felt some unexplainable ease here. 

“But I mean yeah sure. I’ll probably meet up with JJ some time… In public though, and you need to promise me that you’ll be on the lookout. Not like you’re busy with any plans at the moment, huh,” Anya remarks, as you appeasingly roll your eyes: God she could be so paranoid. 

“Yeah, yeah. I promise. Think we turn right up ahead-”

Continuing right on the pathway, you could just faintly decipher the movement of people bustling in and out of the stores, and with that a wave of relief settled over you. Seemed like you knew your way around after all, having doubts along each turn of the walk.  

“Make this quick, Anya, the sun’s starting to set, okay.”

“Whatever, Mum!” Anya quips, before rushing off into the convenience store, leaving your lonesome self outside waiting. 

You watched the crowd across the street at the diner, enjoying their dinner, as you observed the locals in action, contemplating who was who, as you heard Evelyn exchange many names with your father over endless dinner conversations. 

One name that stuck by you was “Cameron.” 

Evelyn mentioned it countless of times, although you’d simply assumed they were one of the many well-known families that had established themselves in town. There wasn’t much else you knew, or wanted to know. You hardly met anyone else outside of the house, nor were you in any rush to. 

“Hey!-”

Instantly snapping from your extensive thoughts, the familiar voice dragged you back to reality, as you turned your sight to its direction. 

“It’s Y/N, right? Anya’s sister! It’s me, JJ, the waiter-”

“Yeah, of course, I remember you-”

As formal and proper as your manners from childhood were, just as you’d gone in for a handshake, JJ wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in warmly for a friendly embrace, before letting you go. 

It had caught you off-guard, although not at all in a distasteful way. 

“How are you? How’s Anya?” He asked, folding his arms as he leant against the wooden post of the front deck. 

“Yeah we’re good! I’m sure Anya’s kept you posted, we’ve pretty much moved in now. How about you? I haven't seen you around.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been pretty good! Oh that’s great to hear, that would mean you guys are free to come to the Boneyard tonight!” 

“The what?”

“The Boneyard? Where we have this party with a kegger, Topper didn’t tell you?” 

By the puzzled expression reeked across your face, JJ knew to take that as an immediate no, not questioning it any further. 

“Well if you’d like, I could meet with you guys later and escort you there myself. There’s a few friends of mine I’d like to introduce you guys to.” 

“Yeah, sure. That would be lovely, JJ-” 

And as perfect as the timing could get, Anya returned from her little store run, stunned by JJ’s unexpected presence. 

“Anya- I was just telling Y/N, I’d love to take you guys out tonight to the Boneyard, I was going to text you about it before, but something with my Dad-” 

“That’s fine, but we just don’t know where exactly the Boneyard is.”

“That’s okay, JJ’s got us covered,” You exclaimed, before exchanging a friendly wink to JJ who just managed to catch it.

***

“You texted JJ our address right?” You persisted, growing anxious by the thought that perhaps JJ might’ve forgotten about you two. 

“Yes, for the last time Y/N could you just relax. He should be here any minute now!” 

And just on cue, in the close distance, the roaring sound of an old engine with dull headlights belonging to one of those old, retro “hippie” vans had pulled up through your drive-way. JJ’s head popped out excitedly by the window, waving for you guys to join, and immediately you both walked over. 

It was difficult to convince your father of going out tonight, in fact, he’d been pestering you both to get out and mingle. As soon as you’d both approached him with the idea of heading out to some party, he leaped with relief, and encouraged you both to take up the offer. He was easy going like that, trusted you both knowing how well he’d raised you both. Of course, he covered some basic ground-rules: no drinking, no drugs, no smoking. 

By the time you’d both arrived to the van, you could just make out the silhouettes of some figures inside the van through the grimey windows. JJ was out of the van, as the courteous man that he was, pulling the side door right open. 

“John B-” Pointing to the boy on the driver’s seat, who gave you a friendly wave, made himself known. 

“Kie-” A lovely, young girl, exchanged a gracious smile and nod to both Anya and yourself, before JJ finally introduced “And this is Pope-”, a young, pleasant man sat beside Kie. 

“Guys this is Anya, and her older sister Y/N. They just moved here like a week ago.” 

“Nice to meet you all, thanks for letting us join you guys tonight-” You warmly proclaimed, before gesturing Anya into the van with you following her behind. 

As JJ was carefully closing the door behind you, John B mentioned how JJ spoke of you two, confessing you to be the “mystery newcomers” before kindly welcoming you to the Outer Banks. 

You felt Kie’s over gaze fall between yourself and Anya, and felt somewhat intimidated, although it there was no threatening intent to it, however more of a protective sentiment. 

“So you guys are Kooks, huh?” Kie blatantly questioned, before Pope nudged his elbow into her, as though to signal her to stop whatever interrogation she had planned. 

“Sorry, what?”- Anya questioned in response, frowning as she looked around the van, back to you.

“Kie, stop. They don’t know about any of that stuff. Just drop it, okay!” JJ insisted, as he ran his fingers through his blonde locks, almost in frustration. 

“We really have no idea what this whole Pogue-Kook business is, but perhaps you could enlighten us one day, Kie-” You suggested, as amiable as possible, not wanting to already cross the line with the few locals you’d just met. 

“I sure will, I just can’t believe you guys live with Topper. He’s such an-”

“Ass?-” Anya intervened, finishing off Kie’s sentence precisely the way she intended, making Kie smile in agreement. 

“Yeah, I don’t think he likes us very much,” Anya confessed, and as much as you hated “gossiping”, you couldn’t deny this one. 

“Well Kie, you’re on to talk… What about your Kook year?” John B laughingly mocked, as Kie infuriatingly shoved his shoulder. 

“S-So what exactly is the difference between a Pogue and a Kook?” You intriguingly questioned, shifting your gaze from Kie to Pope. 

“Well, to put it short, Pogues live on the Cut, which I assume Topper would rather die than enter. Whereas yourselves and our Kie here, live on Figure 8,” Pope answered.

“So it’s just a social class thing?” You quipped, being reminded again of how very unprogressive things were around the Outer Banks. 

“Exactly!-” Kie shouted, a hint of relief, as though finally finding someone who’d shared mutual understanding with her cause. 

“I mean there’s more to it-” JJ added.

“But it’s best if you guys don’t get as involved, your only just new here-” He calmly reassured.

“Just keep an eye out for the Kooks, they usually come to these sort of events anyways for the booze they can’t afford-” Kie ridiculed. 

“Yeah, especially Rafe-” Pope uttered, his tone reeking of bitterness to the name. 

“Wait-Who exactly is that? The name just sounds familiar-” You brush off, not wanting to vex Pope any further. 

“Good God, he’s the worst of the worst-” Pope scorned. 

“An asshole-” Kie provoked. 

“He’s the older brother of Sarah Cameron, I’m sure you’ve met her. She’s Topper’s girlfriend,” John B confessed.

“HA! Topper has a girlfriend, since when?!” Anya broke out mockingly laughing: as Kie and JJ chuckled to her comedic outburst. 

“He must be that bad, huh?” You uttered, as the rest began to settle themselves. 

“He’s a terrible person, Y/N. If I was you guys, I’d avoid him at all costs,-” Pope insisted, although by the seriousness of his voice, it seemed more of a warning than anything. 

***

The Boneyard was a secluded location of the island, where the ashy white trunks of dead logs were arranged in a way to accompany large crowds, and rowdy parties far from the complaints of the adults. As you’d all arrived, kegs ready at the hand, the party had already commenced, as people from which John B described had consisted of Pogues, Kook and tourists. Regardless, all strangers to you. 

As you finally eased yourself into that party mood, you found yourself enjoying the company of the Pogues, they were quite the friendly bunch. And it seemed ANya was letting loose as well, no thanks to her new-found companions: it always seemed like an impossible mission for Anya to enjoy herself, although witnessing her from the standpoint of a bystander, you felt comforted. 

“I’m just going to go grab myself a drink-” You assured John B, as he nodded in agreement. 

As you crammed yourself through the crowd, you felt a tight grip pulling on your elbow, making you topple in the direction of whomever it was that grabbed you. 

“Topper, what the fuck?”

“How the hell did you get here, let alone find out about this?” He exclaimed, by the faint smell of the beer oozing with each breath, you could tell he was slowly becoming intoxicated.

“No thanks to you-” You snapped, before jolting your arm out of his strained grip. 

“Seriously, Y/N. Does your Dad even know you’re here?”

Before you could even respond, some sort of internal sixth sense, felt an intense pair of eyes on you. As you shifted your gaze, to a bunch of people standing behind Topper, you’d immediately recognised his face. 

For some odd reason you felt a shiver crawl down your spine, as though in fright of seeing some ghostly figure. His intense, blue eyes just fixated on you and only you, as he took sips of his drink, with one hand snugged away in a front pocket. It seemed he was in conversation with a bunch of other guys, all dressed quite similarly to one another in their polo shirts and summer shorts, and yet he was not at all engaged... Only to you.  

“Earth to Y/N!” Topper loudly interjected, stirring you to snap back, as you fixed your view on him. 

“Y-Yes, yes he does. Now could you just let me be?” 

And before you knew it, you instinctively stormed off, before Topper had the chance to drunkenly question you any longer. As you disappeared into the crowd, heading for the kegger, your mind persisted in contemplation. 

That was Rafe, surely. You vividly remembered the whole, minor incident during your first encounter with him. 

After what the Pogues had confessed about him, and by his looming nature, you’d never felt so unnerved by someone, you’d in fact, never even met.

But why?

TAGLIST - @juliep7654 @foggybanditgardenprune​

[blackenedwhite97]

Coming Out [Poly! Erasermic x {Fem}Reader]

Hello! this was a requested fic from like before Christmas. I'M A MESS I KNOW I'M SORRY! I’ll be catching up at some point, I'm in my final sem at uni and have MAJOR senioritis. Me no do unless me have to. Instead, now I just spend my time staring at the existential abyss the threatens to swallow my ceiling and think about everything I'm procrastinating. But I digress...

Content Warning: This story is of a negative experience coming out as poly to your family, this deals with rejection from the reader's mother, father, and a grandparent. This story demonstrates Homophobia, xenophobia, traditionalist and conservative values and attitudes and may be triggering to some folks.

This story includes a Polyamorous relationship

Polyamory: the practice of engaging in multiple sexual relationships with the consent of all the people involved.

Word Count: 3.7 K (A baby story)

Y/N --- 4:06pm

Hey can my roomates come to dinner?

DAD --- 4:06

You mean the gays?

Y/M --- 4:08

Please don’t call them that. Neither of them are gay anyways, there’s more than just gay or straight.

DAD --- 4:10

Yeah whatever. Let your mom decide.

MOM --- 5:12

Sure, they can come.

Mom --- 5:23

Gma might be coming dinner tho. Maybe talk to them?

That conversation should have been enough of a warning for how the evening was going to transpire. At news of your grandmother attending dinner, you panicked and tried to back out of your plans. You had been growing steadily farther apart from your parents anyways, barely seeing them more that once a year if that. It’s not like they didn’t have their suspicions anyways, to them you were a single woman living in the big city sharing an apartment with two gay men. Not that they’d ever been to the apartment. If they had they might have notice that one of the two “bedrooms” was being used as an office. Earlier on in the relationship you were so deeply uncomfortable being around your parents alone, that you had Shouta come with you every visit because you were so paranoid you were just going to come out on the spot.

At first your parents were sure that you and Shouta were together. He had subconsciously cleaned up quite nice the first few times he met your parents anyways, wanting to make a good impression on them if you finally did tell them about your polyamorous relationship. Then as time went on you got busier and started to see them less. Shouta’s parents lived in the suburbs and you saw them on holidays, plus Shouta had come out to them as being bisexual a long time ago and hadn’t felt much pressure to hide the polyamorous nature of your relationship to begin with. Hizashi’s mom was still a city dweller in her 60’s and on top of doing the cute mom things like baking fantastic cookies and handing down family jewelry to the daughter in law, she’d also taken Hizashi and Shouta to their first pride in Tokyo and had an in-home recording studio where she recorded for local punk bands. She was, quite literally, a cool mom.

You gnawed vigorously at your thumbnail, not quiet biting the whole way through, instead riddling it with dents and cracks. Chewing your nails wasn’t a habit you’d always had, it became a sort of silent worry thing you started to do when you got to your agency and had to remain still and quiet during briefings, no matter how terrible the news was. Your ruined nail beds were an atrocity to Hizashi, who had paid several times for you to get a manicure to get your nails short and evenly trimmed so you could manage them on your own. You still somehow found a way to gnaw on the short squared off nubs of your nails though, and it drove him nuts. Shouta cared less, his hands were in ridiculous shape, he was callused and bruised, cracked and flaking all over the place and Hizashi would regularly force moisturizer on them. Shouta cared more about figure out the root stress, it’s not that Hizashi didn’t, he just didn’t know how to, so he settled for pampering you.

“It’s dead.” Hizashi huffed from the bedroom door. “Obliterated, actually.”

“Hmm?” You looked up from your phone, you hadn’t been reading any of the messages in the chat for a good few minutes and just let your eyes unfocus instead. You yanked your thumb from your mouth and hid it below the table like a child caught with a sweet they’d snuck from the kitchen before dinner, you knew he saw.

“Your nail.” Hizashi gently patted the end of his hair with his special fluffy towel that he’d convinced you and Shouta he needed to control his frizz (which he didn’t have) and padded towards the kitchen table where you sat. He placed a kiss on the top of your head as he strode around you.

“What’s up, love?” he murmured softly, leaning against the table next you. One of his legs propped up on the chair to your right and leaned down to look at your phone screen.

“This is going to go horribly.” You breathed, panicked as you set your phone down on the table.

“You don’t know that.” Hizashi looked back up at you and smiled sweetly.

“Not everyone’s mom is a cool rocker lady in her 60’s who lives in the heart of downtown still and is fully supportive of her child’s bisexual polyamorous relationship with their childhood best friend and an ex-small-town girl with an ultra-conservative family.” You huffed out in one long breath.

“That was oddly specific.” He chuckled softly. “What about Sho’s parents, they’re conservative?”

“Yeah, but his parents are at least polite and send us both Christmas gifts every year and keep any and all of their shittier opinions to themselves because they want their son to be happy.” You groaned dramatically, dropping your head onto his thigh, using the extra meat to muffle the noise.

“Y-your-” Hizashi’s leg twitched from the vibrations of your groan. “Your parents want you to be happy too, Y/n.”

You groaned into his thigh, trying to explain the difference between your parent’s and Shouta’s. Hizashi laughed and gently grabbed the side of your face, lifting it so you were no longer muffled by his leg.

“Try again.” He instructed.

“They only want me to be happy if it fits into their rigid frame of what acceptable happiness looks like.” You explained again.

“Hey,” Hizashi ran his thumb back and forth across your cheek, “have faith, baby. They’re your family, they love you.”

If only he’d been right.

Shouta was the know it all, the one that way always right. Hizashi on the other hand was quiet used to being the one that was not always right, he had no hubris about his intelligence what-so-ever. So much so that sometimes you and Shouta had to remind him that he was intelligent and offered a lot of knowledge and wisdom in many many ways: public speaking, social relationships, radio scripting, he spoke two languages fluently as well. However, this one-time Hizashi wished dearly that he had been right, that he was an insufferable know it all who never got it wrong. It was a different twisted feeling in his gut, sitting the back seat watching you try to keep it together in the front seat, than the usual mild embarrassment that faded after a couple of minutes when he was wrong about something. That was damn near luxurious compared to the painful knot tearing into his stomach.

The silence in the car was so dense and absolute that it almost physically gagged Hizashi and Shouta, the two of them were too afraid to say anything and break it. It felt as though the heavy silence was keeping you from breaking, as if it were applying enough pressure at all sides to keep the thin veneer of composure you were managing together. You felt it too, along with the heavy weight that was nearly crushing your chest, the thick doughy lump clogging your throat and the tremble in your lips. You took a deep breath, it getting caught halfway and freezing in to an unrealized sob that you pushed down.

Shouta huffed and pulled off to the side of the dark country road, slowing into the gravelly shoulder. He turned in his seat to face you, undoing his seat belt so he could fully turn his body. You kept your eyes out the window, trying with all your might not to let the tears that clouded your eyes to fall. You knew you’d need to cry about this, about your parents and their conditional love. You knew that this was something you would need to deal with, but you didn’t want to at this moment. You wanted to go home, take some sleeping medication and go to sleep, you wanted to wait until the open wound in your chest had stopped bleeding to begin treating it.

Your father was being facetious about your living arrangement as usual, whenever he was faced with Shouta and Hizashi his first reaction was to constantly point out that fact that you were a woman living with two men and that if they weren’t gay that one of them should have married you by now. Shouta and Hizashi had taken these comments like water rolling off of a duck’s back, Hizashi even grinned and mumbled something about your father tempting him. You could have kept your mouth shut, you could have kept your cool but Shouta’s hand was brushing against your thigh and you felt it tense into an annoyed fist. Something about Shouta’s minimal reaction lit a fire in you, more like an explosion. It was a surge of very sudden and very ferocious courage that lasted a split second and no longer. You’d practically shouted it, the ringing in your ears drowning whatever words you’d used out.

You were met with complete and utter silence, shock and fear thick in the air. You’d almost believed for a moment that you hadn’t done it, that you’d just shouted randomly and just scared everyone. But then your dad stood up, his shocked open mouth flattening out into a hard straight line, this jaw swelling as he clenched it.

“W-what?” he growled, stepping back from the table as if you were a threat.

You were ready to backtrack, you were so ready to just laugh and pretend you were fucking with him. But you spared a glance to Shouta and Hizashi, their faces pale and guilty. They, regardless of what you could say in an attempt to cover up what you’d just said, were basically admitting to it already. You instinctively shrunk back into your chair like you’d do when you were younger at the dinner table whenever something uncomfortable would come up. You could tell everyone was at a loss for words, the difference was that you were scared and at a loss for words, Shouta and Hizashi were shocked and at a loss for words and your father was steaming angry and at a loss for words.

Your mother, who had always been the least confrontational of the two turned away from you and almost in a show of disgust immediately went to comfort your grandmother. It was as if you were an afront to goodness, an act of moral atrocity being committed in front of them. Your father began to barrage you with passive aggressive questions and accusations towards Shouta and Hizashi. He was trying to understand while at the same time refusing to give you a chance to explain. You stopped listening after the first few sentences that came out of his mouth, falling back into an internal monologue filled with regret. He must have said something exceptionally terrible because in an instant Shouta was standing, his arm reaching out to separate you from him and he was shouting. Shouta never shouted, he barely voiced any form of annoyance or frustration in general when it wasn’t a learning moment for his students, but here he was on his feet volleying harsh word with your father.

Hizashi, you realized was attempting damage control, his hands raised and his voice lower than either of the other two men’s. You blinked back into the present, as noise filled your ears, you mother was crying, your father and Shouta were shouting and Hizashi was rambling panicked. You took a couple of deep breaths and stood up on shaky legs, gripping Shouta’s protective arm for support, and looked your father in the eyes. He faltered at the direct eye contact and you saw an opening where there was less shouting to contend with.

“Stop,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “this is why I never wanted to tell you! Why I was perfectly okay with living away from you guys for the rest- This is why I haven’t been home.”

Your mother gasped a ragged, tear-filled breath. She’d expressed before that she’d wished she could see you more often, that she’s noticed you’d been coming home less and less. You’d been good at covering it up, saying you were busy with work and simply couldn’t get the time off. You knew that what you’d just said hurt her, not in the way it should have. It hurt her because you’d just told them it was their fault that you felt unwelcomed here and not because you were afraid of your own parents.

“How long?” she breathed.

“Three years.” You sniffed, hand tightening around Shouta’s wrist.

“THREE?! THR-” your father bellowed in disbelief. “For three years they’ve been brainwashing and forcing themselves on you?!”

Suddenly you understood why Shouta had leapt up, you had just now caught up with the conversation. Red hot anger flared up in your chest, the mere insinuation that you were being forced in anyway to be with your partners filled you with utter rage.

“No!” You growled, for the first time in your life matching your father’s volume. “For three years they’ve been by my side, showing up at the hospital when I got hurt at work, celebrating my promotions at the agency, helping me make a home that I feel safe in and actually fucking caring about me!”

There was silence again, this one was thin but not light in anyway, like it was a delicate thread barely holding a great weight from falling and crushing you.

“We care for you.” You mother said darkly.

“No,” you swallowed hard, “you haven’t for a long time.”

“Get out.” You father growled.

Hizashi was already moving, grabbing your coats from the back of the chairs and pulling Shouta by the arm away from the table. It took you a good long second to move, even then it was because Shouta latched onto your shoulders and Hizashi tugged him along.

“I’m sorry.” Shouta whispered, his hand finding yours in your lap. You kept your eyes focused out the window at the pitch-black fields with barely visible for off golden dots of light. You couldn’t talk.

You heard Hizashi shuffling around in the back seat, scooting closer to you and his hand joined Shouta’s, pulling up onto the storage compartment between the seats. It was cracking, that veneer.

“It’s not your fault.” Hizashi murmured.

You sniffed hard, biting int you bottom lip. Of course, it wasn’t your fault that your parents didn’t accept you, that you weren’t good enough or right for them, that you weren’t on par with the apparent morality of the rest of the family. It wasn’t your fault that they were backwards people with terrible ideas of how a person should be. It still didn’t hurt any less that you couldn’t meet those backwards ideals, that you couldn’t be the right kind of person for them.

“Y/n,” Shouta whispered, gently grabbing your chin and turning your face towards them.

They were looking at you the way a mother looks at her crying baby in the first few months, the desperate need to connect and nurture glowing in their eyes. They were filled with worry, with pity, with understanding but also, with fear. No doubt, what had just happened had been traumatic for them too. Looking into their emotion filled eyes you felt that veneer shatter, falling away and unleashing that mournful sobbing that had been trapped inside.

Shouta pulled you towards him, holding you firmly to his chest placing his head atop yours. You vaguely felt Hizashi disappear from you for a moment, but you were too preoccupied with the trembling muscles seizing violently in your chest. Then you felt him sliding in behind you, only now realizing he’d stepped out of the car and slide in through your door as he shut it behind him. He draped himself over you rubbing circles into your back.

“It’s not your fault.” He murmured into your hair over and over again.

At first you didn’t really focus on it, thinking it idle words of comfort but the more he said the more it sunk in. The more your realized that you were holding onto the hope that there was something about this, about you, that you could fix. With every repetition of those four words that false hope chipped away and that heavy weight in your chest began to fall away. It was still painful, it still felt like you had a pen festering wound that you’d never fully heal from, but it also felt lighter. It felt as though a burden you’d believed was yours to bear was suddenly the responsibility of the many.

“You don’t have to change,” Shouta whispered softly as your sobs ebbed into weak beaths, “they do.”

That reignited some tears, to hear what you needed to said so plainly. Shouta was good at that, putting those intangible thoughts and feelings into plain words. You cried until the tears and the worry and the late hour caught up with you, until your head felt heavy and waterlogged and you slumped backwards into Hizashi sniffing. You cried until your wavering breaths evened out and your tired mind fell to silence. Hizashi pulled you into his lap and cradled you against him like a parent holding and oversized child, running his hand slowly through your hair.

When you awoke you were swaddled thoroughly with the fuzzy blanket from the couch Shouta hated because it shed and sandwiched between the two men who snored away. As you blinked in the early morning light that just barely peaked through the blinds you noticed the red rims around Hizashi’s eyes and deep-set circles under Shouta’s as if they both been awake all night. Shouta was still in his dress shirt and Hizashi had stripped down to his boxers and pulled his hair back into a sloppy bun. Neither were properly snoring which told they hadn’t been asleep for very long.

You tried to ignore what had happened last night, what had led to the heavy feeling in your head and crusty dry eyes and tight cheeks. You tried to pretend that they had stayed up for work, that they you had swaddled yourself up in the blanket nor because you were sad but because you just wanted to be cozy. Then you heard a phone vibrate on the nightstand and any and all work towards denial washed away as you dreaded checking it. It could just be a work thing, it could be Hizashi’s phone even though he’d never had it on silent even once since you’ve known him. It could have been Shouta’s vibrating against the wooden table even though you could see his slightly peeking out of his back pocket.

You sighed and sat up, daring the smallest of glances at the nightstand. It was your phone screen that was lit up, several notifications on the screen. You groaned and laid back down, scrunching your eyes shut begging for sleep to suddenly and miraculously take you. It buzzed again and you huffed. Fine. You’ll check it. I guess someone could be dying. I do stop that from happening for a living.

You very cautiously crawled over Hizashi and reached to get your phone, electing not to look at it until you settled back between your boys. You scrolled though your notifications, weather, news, a work email, a second email from a contact that made your blood run cold and three missed calls and two answering machine messages from the same contact. Grandma. Your hands trembled at you unlocked your phone and typed int your voicemail password. You held the phone up to you ear and listen to the first message which was more or less just some frustrated grandma noises and mumbles about the inconvenience of technology, followed briefly by a set of hellos. If you hadn’t been ready to shit yourself, you’d have laughed. Then the second played and you had to take a deep breath to hold yourself together enough to keep listening.

“Hello? Hello? Y/n? Oh shi- well this is just ridiculous. Y/n, I don’t know if you can hear me, or maybe this is your answering machine, I don’t know I can’t hear too well but-” her soft worn voice said into the phone, “I want you to know that I love you. Your parents love you too, even if they did not act like it tonight.”

She paused and your eyes welled up with tears, a lump forming in your throat. It was this strange feeling of pure sadness but also happiness and relief.

“Those boys,” she continued, “probably would have killed your father last night if they had the chance. I’m not saying I get it, but they sure do love you, sweetheart. I quite like the blond one he is very-”

The message cut off and the automated voice asked you what you wanted to do with the message. All you could do was laugh, laugh and cry. You were still sad, still in pain, but it was already starting to feel less life-ending.

“Hey,” Shouta mumbled blearily, “S’okay. I’m here.”

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, trying to pull himself from sleep. You hugged him back and massaged the back of his scalp gently.

“Listen to this.” You sniffed.

He nodded and you pressed repeat, listening to the whole second message through again. You watched as a smile spread across his sleepy lips and he laughed softly. He pouted suddenly when it ended, his eyebrows pulling together as much as his drowsy state would let them.

“What?” you asked, worried he’d heard something you‘d missed.

“Why does she like Zash more?” he grumbled, barely awake now.

You smiled and curled into him, electing not to answer knowing that he wouldn’t like being told that Hizashi is more sociable than him. Besides, you smiled to yourself, he’d be asleep in a matter of seconds.

You were still hurt; you still had that big open wound in your chest. But with Shouta and Hizashi at your side you knew you’d heal; you knew they’d give you anything you needed. You knew that your grandmother was right, that these two boys loved you very much.