#and more non-english media too

[dkettchen]

I have added geographic & language data to my ship data set!

(some of the combo ones may still be recategorised but alas that's very few)

Total ships (by country, continent, language):

TLDR:

The US has too much soft power with over 50% of top AO3 ships in the last decade being from US-originated media

UK & Japan are runners up but each only make up about an 8th of the ships

"European media" is almost exclusively UK media, with only about 3 fandoms from other countries (France, Norway, Sweden) without UK/US collaboration and/or original/most popular release(s) in english, we do not have much translated non-english european media represented the way translated east asian media is

Africa and South America are straight up not represented

Other than Thailand, only east asian media is represented for Asia. India as one of the two most populous countries in the world alongside China is not represented at all

Oceania (Australia and New Zealand only) only has I believe 3 fandoms represented

Countries by ranking:

(overall, annual, and femslash:)

The overall and annual rankings improved their country distribution over the years.

Annual had the biggest influx of east asian media, aligning with the previous racial diversity findings.

Femslash is actually doing the worst on country diversity, with 3/4 consistently being made up by the US alone, which was surprising cause it was doing the best on racial diversity out of the three. (me@femslash: YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE ToT)

Overview stats by country (biggest 6 represented):

US & Japan:

UK & Canada:

China & South Korea

East asian countries feature about as many east asian characters as english speaking countries feature white ones. The latter also do not feature much more east asian rep than other groups, meaning that the vast majority of our east asian characters in the rankings are *from* east asian media becoming more globally popular, not from more east asians being represented in other media.

Korea is doing the worst on diversity represented cause its fandoms are almost exclusively kpop RPF, hence only feature east asians (and even among them largely only the ethnically & nationality-wise korean ones, not many of the international ones), and with the exception of Red Velvet only boy bands/mlm. BTS makes up over half of its ships despite only featuring 7 individual men.

The US as the biggest category has the most racial diversity and highest percentage of interracial ships, but Japan and China have surprisingly high levels of diversity represented, despite their irl population's much lower ethnic diversity than say the US to my understanding. In China's case this seems to largely be due to Genshin Impact making up over half of its ships and featuring many different culturally inspired worlds, leading to more diversity represented on paper, with the caveat that a lot of its non-white and non-east asian characters have been criticised for white-/light-washing/colourism. Both Japan and China have white characters as their second biggest group, unlike english speaking media which does not mirror that ratio for east asians.

The UK and Canada are doing way worse on racial diversity than the US, despite featuring way more different fandoms than Korea. (= They don't have an excuse lmao)

As expected based on the rankings' country distributions, the US features an almost equal amount of male & female characters, due to wlw and mlm ships being nearly tied and a decent amount of straight ships being represented. Canada has an even crazier femslash ratio with over half of its (much lower number of ships) being femslash. Japan and the UK both feature about 1/3 female characters. Japan is also the only asian country of the three that features any straight ships at all.

[waugh-bao]

[mygnolia]

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, action ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 17k (i’m sorry idk why either.)

⭒ INCLUDES -› SPOILERS FOR GREAT GATSBY, cursing, non-graphic injuries (reader discretion advised), yes i made the patching up with first aid kit trope SUE ME!! takes place in a busy city similar to new york never specified, reader is rich, jake and heeseung are seniors and riki’s a junior, is riki stupid? yes… jake reveals stuff because he is also a little silly, reader wears a red dress!

⭒ GREAT GATSBY -› basically jay gatsby has this weird amt of money but no one rlly knows how he got it (nefarious reasons) and hes been in love with this girl daisy for five years but then she got married to tom buchanan but he gets rich so he can get the house across from her and wistfully watch her and he pines after her like CRAZY but he dies at the end

⭒ REN SAYS...special huge fat kiss to thena @sensitively-taken you will be in the will when im a millionaire THANK YOU for helping me with so much of this I WUV U AND I WLL BE WAITING FOR UR HUENING FIC!!! | LIBRARY

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM PRE-ADULTHOOD STRESS, IF THAT’S EVEN A THING.

What exactly does Riki have to worry about as a seventeen-year-old junior in high school? Right now, his most daunting responsibility is catching up on the chapters of The Great Gatsby because the only thing Riki’s actually read from the novel is that the main character shares a name with his best friend and senior, Park Jay. His second most daunting responsibility is handling the fact that with the new seating chart in his Literature class, it means he’s sitting next to the object of his very subtle affections, you. 

See, the problem with having a crush on you is that Nishimura Riki’s committed to thinking that you’re way out of his league, and unfortunately, the boy believes that almost too well. Not only are you minted beyond his wildest dreams (having seen your posts on social media), but you’re hardworking, helpful, and dedicated to your role as student body treasurer. He’s already understood that you’d never go for a guy like him. Maybe someone more like Park Sunghoon, whose parents’ salary matches yours. If Riki lived in a rural estate with generational wealth, handling the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing might be a bit easier for him, considering he wouldn’t have to try so hard in school. It might even change the fact that Riki dealt with some alleyway criminals last night and is currently catching up on lost sleep, as your English Literature teacher goes on and on about a project on the book you’re reading. 

In class, and even sometimes outside of the classroom, your small tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings has landed you in some awkward situations—like now. 

“I don’t really tell anyone this, but I hate Daisy.” And instead of getting a response, you glance over to see Nishimura Riki slumped on the desk. Without trying to make preconceptions about what could land him in a situation like this, you poke his arm, stifling a smile at how his eyes widen when you’ve caught him rubbing the very obvious sleep from his eye. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, still fighting the post-nap grogginess, “Did I miss anything?” 

(Nope.)

Shaking your head, you return your attention to your teacher as he continues to answer questions. The second Mr. Yoo assigned a report, you wanted to die even more considering the work you had to do on top of the impending due dates. But for it to be partnered? And for you to get seated and paired with the one boy who's known for not caring about school? Maybe things are a little stacked against you, but there has to be a reason why Riki’s somehow still passing all his classes…right?

Considering it’s the last assignment about the book, you’re glad that you already read it so many times to know what you want to put into words. And in retrospect, answering a few open-ended questions about it can’t be that hard—the hardest part would be getting your partner to stay awake in class. 

A small tap at your side makes you turn to face Riki, who you see has frantically written a page full of notes about the project in the past three minutes and how he can succeed. “Can you go over the first part? Sorry…I was…y’know.” 

“It’s a partner project. And we’re partners.” You wince at the awkward wording. 

Great! Riki was caught sleeping and that was your first impression of him for your paired assignment? Riki feels so stupid in front of you right now—in front of your meticulous notes with annotations and proper highlighting. He wants to curl up into a ball when he sees you glance over at his haphazard attempt to look like he was paying attention when, in truth, he was trying to remember the dream he had just ten minutes prior. When you offer him a small smile and nod, leaning over with your notebook in hand, he sighs in relief, thanking whoever it was that let him get away with his naps without the consequence of irritating you afterwards. 

The bell rings when Mr. Yoo stops talking, and you pause, startled by the sound. Instead of leaving, however, you pack your bag and shuffle to his side of his desk, continuing to parrot details about your report in hopes that it all makes sense. You need to make sure he knows what he’s doing. 

“I think one of the questions he mentioned was like ‘Is Gatsby a good person?’ and do you remember how in Chapter Eight…” The rest gets zoned out and forgotten in the boy’s head, because he in fact does not know what happened in Chapter Eight. He doesn’t know what happened…in any part of the book. But he agrees anyway, pretending like he understands what scene you’re trying to explain. What he notices is how thorough and dedicated you are towards ensuring he comprehends what you’re explaining, and although it could be because you don’t want him to fail you both, he chooses to believe you’re doing it because you tolerate him. 

You’re so engrossed in covering all the little details and telling him random tidbits regarding the book that you don’t realize your feet have made it all the way to the cafeteria. “But here, let me get your number. I’ll totally explain more over text.” 

Riki is definitely not freaking out when he silently grabs his phone and hands it to you with the contact page, staring a little longer than necessary at the cute smiley face you added to your name. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the ten digits of your number, “For helping me with this, too.”

“Of course! The Great Gatsby is a fun read for me. A little hard to read sometimes because of some of the characters, but still easy to understand.” And Nishimura RIki realizes that he has to do well. He’ll read the book five times over if it means gaining your approval. 

Jake notices something a little different about the tuft of black and blonde hair when his friend walks in. The first thing is that he’s actually here, and that you’re next to him, smiling. The boy rubs his eye to make sure he’s not dreaming somehow, but when he looks up again, you’re waving goodbye and joining your friends across the room. 

“Did you get hit with something while fighting a villain that makes you more bold? I feel like I just saw you and ____ talking,” Jake starts when Riki finally joins him with his lunch. 

Riki laughs, shoving Jake’s head out of embarrassment and opening his chips. “It’s just school. Got some project in English and she says we’re partnered.” He looks over at his friend chuckling, rolling his eyes at how Jake pokes at his side and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“I better hear you two are dating by next week.” 

“Who’s dating by next week?” Heeseung places his bag of food in front of them and takes a seat, opening the fast food he got last period and stuffing a fry in his mouth. 

“Riki and ____. Let me have one,” Jake answers, reaching inside the bag. 

Heeseung looks over at his junior curiously. “You asked her out?” And the two older students hear a groan from the boy in question. 

“Me and ____ aren’t anything, for your information.” He prods at the vegetables on his tray and takes a bite before a look of displeasure washes over his face. “You’re both way too excited for two guys who do not have girlfriends.” 

“Hey! You know the girl I’m always fighting with is the reason why I’m single. I have to focus on studying to do well in school to do better than her.” Heeseung’s whining falls on deaf ears as Riki smiles victoriously, seeing how defensive the former got. 

Jake offers him a shrug of defeat. “I got nothing.”

The three of them fall into normal conversation and Riki finally explains everything that happened during English.  “So you’re telling me your plan to ask ____ out went down from 18 months to 6?” And with a nod from the younger, they both groan once more. Heeseung exclaims, “We’re both going to graduate, dumbass. Make the plan go down to like…two months? Please?” 

Jake cuts in before Riki has a chance to respond. “Make it one and a half, so we can see you with a prom date before leaving forever.” 

“You act as if you’re going to die after graduation. It’s like you’re begging to be a super senior.” 

And they’re silenced immediately. 

“Do you think the guy I was with earlier hates me?” you ask on the other side of the room. Minjeong stares at you blankly, waiting for your explanation. “I don’t know if you saw when I walked in but I was talking to this really tall guy with blonde hair and black tips. He seemed really out of it, like he kept staring at me and nodding. I think I scared him off by talking about the book too much.” 

Sunghoon, who is also listening in, opens his neatly packed lunchbox and begins mixing his noodles. “I think you did scare him off, ____.”

“Not helping,” Minjeong interjects, “Just talk to him more and maybe he’ll warm up to you. You two sit together in class anyways, so hopefully he’ll talk more?” 

“I know him,” Sunghoon comments, “Well, sort of. I’m friends with Jake who’s friends with Riki, and it seems like all that boy does is sleep.” 

“Maybe he’s really good at subconscious in-class comprehension?” you try, taking a bite of your sandwich. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere too much with treasurer stuff.” 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE IF HE SWINGS INTO ANOTHER WALL AT 100MPH LIKE HOW HE ALMOST DID TONIGHT.

All he’s had on his mind since school ended till now is how he should probably text you, if he really discarded the slimy acid monster from last week properly, and when the prom theme is going to be released, but there’s something amiss that confuses his spidey-senses and makes Riki much more alert. 

He snaps out of whatever train of thought he had before, focusing on the situation at hand and looking around to follow his instinct. Riki cautiously plants himself on the side of a random apartment building to get a sense of what's going on. A tingle of some sort of in the air permeates the material of his suit and leaves him shivering from the cold. 

He doesn't like it one bit. 

Moving to the side of the building to the top, the boy finally catches a glimpse of something when he gets a decent view of the city and highway systems. Riki knows something’s wrong with the bridge the closer he gets. He zips from one side of the tall, metal tower to the other, crawling down on all fours making sure he isn’t caught. He feels the electric feeling once more, only amplified. It runs up his spine and he wants to slap it, almost like a frantic, summertime bug. The air around him is charged with something he has never recognized before. With a puzzled expression under his mask, Riki continues to investigate the surrounding area. 

Riki finds a lone figure with some sort of attachment to his left arm, like a long glove made out of metal. The bulkiness of it seems to have no impact on his body as the man fiddles with the contraption, and the boy watches with bated breath as the machine fizzes and spurts with electricity. It begins to glow as power concentrates on his plated palm and the superhero sees it for the first time. It’s like a fizz, like a match striking at fire only to produce a quick burst of friction, but it almost feels liquid when he watches the person play with the flickering blue ball of electricity. It dances in the dark in a hauntingly beautiful way, with bolts jutting out from the metal as it spurts and buzzes with a life-like manner. 

A spark. 

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sound of Riki’s voice from the end of the bridge causes the stranger to look up with wide eyes. Although Riki fully expects it to simply enhance strength or block damage, the immediate strike of blue that flies straight towards him is anything but defensive. With a yelp, he jumps away, this time refusing to show himself. 

What the hell was that?

He knows he should go back down there to change things and get the person and the metal pieces away before it escalates, but when he goes back down to watch, it's ten times worse. The bright blue illuminates the scarred face of the villain as he’s picked up the metal arm–but this time, it’s no longer clunky and sparking, but fused into his arm. 

Riki’s face pales at the sudden change before his body acts on its own and he shoots out a web to stop the man. 

The villain is shocked by the intrusion, but quickly yanks free from the webbing and flicks another bolt of electricity, one that flies much faster now that the metal flows into the arm instead of simply resting on the skin. It’s unlike something Riki has ever seen, something that is so controlled in motion and yet so erratic in nature, and it instills a deathly fear when it grazes his arm he hisses in pain. The sharp feeling springs Riki into action as he jumps away. He’s lucky another bolt isn’t sent his way, seeing how the villain’s too busy marveling at the power of his new gadget.

“You know that fucking hurts, right?” He yells out, cupping his wound. “Maybe leave the gadgets to the kids!”

The man scoffs. “It better have hurt. I sacrificed half my body for this to work.”

“But why?” All Riki wants is answers. Some sort of explanation.

The man charges up yet another bolt, almost like a laser gun is built into the machine. “Less talking, more running, Spiderman.” 

That scared the shit out of him. 

The boy doesn’t have time to think as he jumps out from the dark tunnel to the bridge and up the metal towers—he hates having to fight with people right below. The villain follows in pursuit, almost crumbling the metal with his engineered arm as he hoists himself quickly. Riki continues to jump between the structure to avoid the flashes, trying to get out and apprehend the man as quickly as possible. When he reaches the top, however, he feels death is near as he glances down at the villain below who’s quickly gaining on him. He shoots out webs to slow him temporarily, letting himself fall and swing from the side of the tower to escape. 

What he doesn’t see on the way across the bridge is the flash that misses his cheek and hits his thigh instead. It burns, and mid-air, Riki gives the wound a quick assessment before he lands on the metal, immediately forcing his body to climb. While dealing with his wound, he fails to notice the villain swinging from the bridge support lines to meet him. 

He needs to end this fast before he becomes burnt toast.

Riki doesn’t often rely on instinct to carry him, but he can tell that the villain he’s facing isn’t just a criminal. 

“Land another hit, would you?” he tries to say, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and leg. It doesn’t do much to deter the man in front of him as the arm continues to destroy and bend the metal on the way up. “What are you going to do now, Sparky?”

The man says nothing, charging energy into his metal glove again before aiming and focusing on the target: him. 

Riki jumps off, not able to properly land his web in the right spot as he goes from one section of the bridge to the other. The man behind him looks enraged at the boy’s attempt to escape—so much so that he reaches out with his normal hand to try to grasp the suit when Spider-Man swings past him. Instead of the feeling of fabric, the villain feels sticky spider fluid on his fingers. Riki shoots out a web, one that curls around the villain’s wrist and drags him off the tower. Instead of being able to launch him into the surrounding waters, the man slips from the poorly shot-out webs and falls from mid air into the sea of frantic cars, including one semi truck that collides directly with his arm. In the air, the boy winces when he hears honks and shouts from the impact, hoping it’s the last time he’ll have to witness it.

With his gaze trained on the falling figure, the weakly attached web breaks, and Riki all of a sudden starts falling down as well. He curls up defensively before bracing for impact, curling into himself when he feels the metal dent and the truck driver scream from outside of the parked vehicle, the body of the villain right in front of it. 

Riki staggers, holding onto his arm and thigh the best he can before getting up. With wobbly steps and a small jump, he lands near the unconscious man, whose metal arm is cracked and fizzling—something that Riki knows is bound to leave more scars. 

“Call the police. I’ll get rid of the pieces.” Although Riki wants to figure out who the criminal is and make sure he’s properly apprehended, the gashes in the boy's limbs leave him winded and exhausted. With hot metal scraps bound together by webbing in his hands, Riki swings out and dumps it somewhere rural, trying his best to cover the pieces with the pounding headache that 

Riki revisits the secluded spot under the bridge, looking for clues to the man’s identity, and his expression falls when he notices a lanyard dangling near a trash can. 

His name, his position, and the company. FLiGHT Corp. The company name caught the boy’s eye, and he pockets the item before leaving. 

It seemed like he was a normal research scientist, but Riki’s recollection of the scars and tattered skin leaves him retracting his last thought. He heard something about the failure of a time travel machine at FLiGHT, and if the mass of the incident was anything to go by, he was in the center of it. 

No matter how many times Riki tries to get it out of his head, on the way home, all he can think about is the inexperience he displayed and the lack of response he gave Riki during the whole time. But Riki can’t bring himself to really take away someone’s life—and maybe for that, he’s a horrible superhero. 

He knows he should stop the man before it's too late, and especially with how many self-proclaimed villains there have been, it's not easy to see so many innocent people ruin their lives chasing a power that inevitably consumes them. He knows it’ll only get worse if he lets them run free.

And while the superhero has never been fully honest with himself, there are many times where Riki hates his role as Spider-Man, and wishes that he was just some teenage boy who didn't have the lives of others in his palm. He wishes he didn't have to sacrifice so much to stay behind a mask—and he wonders deep down if there’s anyone else who felt the same. 

His swings lead him across the city above hundreds of lives he has to protect, and he tries to find some semblance of peace. He thinks about how he has his homework due despite having just risked his life, he thinks about how your project is going—and about you. 

In the night under the stars, Nishimura Riki wishes for something just a bit normal. He wishes a good night for himself, but also for you, wherever you could be.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM TRYING TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE NIGHT.

The Great Gatsby is exactly like how you described it; a little hard to get through but fun with the plot’s eccentric characters. He’s pretty sure he could’ve just used a detailed SparkNotes explanation for the book, but having a crush can make someone do weird things. And in Nishimura Riki’s case, his infatuation has got him reading a novel about morally-skewed characters and rich society to impress you. 

When you come into class barely on time, Riki gives you a confused look when you sit down, but doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead, he takes out his book and tries to act like his eyes weren’t closing shut from exhaustion by the time Daisy was finally confessing how she loved Gatsby. 

The moment Mr. Yoo stops talking, however, Riki isn’t asleep—much to your surprise. He has his book out, pages filled with sticky notes and a whole section of his notebook dedicated to characters (written in bright red to keep him awake) and their traits. 

“I got it.” It’s the first thing he says when you two are left to do in-class work. It’s ominous, and maybe a little too enthusiastic in a high school literature class for a boy who doesn’t even care that much for school, but you’ll accept it with open arms if it means you get a helping hand on your project. 

“Continue,” you tell him slowly, leaning back in your chair to listen to him. And you don’t know why, but a small part of you thinks that the boy who sleeps every period the book was discussed wouldn’t have much to say or contribute to such an open-ended prompt, but life is full of surprises. 

What you fail to notice is how Riki is nervous and his stomach does at least twenty flips before he swallows dryly and starts rambling in hopes to impress you and redeem himself from his embarrassing slumber a few days ago. 

“So you know how our prompt is based on one character and basically all their actions?” he asks, and you nod, absentmindedly thumbing a sheet in your journal. “I’m thinking we should talk about Jay Gatsby because so much is revealed to us about him that we might as well use it to our advantage. Y’know, talking about how the theme of exploitation and secrets is veiled under Gatsby’s desire for Daisy.”

“You don’t think Gatsby’s a good character?” Riki wants to tell you that Gatsby is more relatable than good or bad, but he shakes his head. 

“I mean, not really.” He feels like with those four words, he’s completely changed the trajectory of his relationship with you from a positive slope to completely downhill—and a wave of panic washes over him. “Should I? I mean, I could see him as more redeemable if you gave me examp-“

You wave your hand to quell his worries. “To be honest, I don’t like him either. But he’s an interesting main character to write about, so I think we should go with your idea.” 

To win your approval feels like he’s won at least three fights against a villain in a row without getting any bad injuries—it feels good. And for the rest of the period, you are able to finish a detailed outline of your work for the next few weeks, mapping out sections for each other, and he even gets to see a part of prom planning on a word document you had open. He considers your shared productivity a win when he packs up and bids you goodbye before leaving for lunch. 

One wave doesn’t catch Riki’s attention from across the room. Not even two, or three calls of his name could get Nishimura Riki out of his thoughts, and Jake frowns before moving up in the lunch line. 

“Something’s caught your eye again.” Jake feigns innocence and sighs dramatically as he places the food down next to Riki’s plate. “Could it possibly be our school treasurer?” Jake laughs, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what’s got his friend so entranced and non-responsive.

Riki scrunches his nose, annoyed, but never breaking his gaze from where you’re sitting. “We talked in class–like, a lot,” is all he says, paying his friend no mind. “She’s genuinely so understanding.”

“God, I don’t think you can be any more down bad for her than you are right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he notices you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last week. Let me have this before I die tomorrow.” 

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair, “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response. 

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.” 

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.” 

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.” 

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.” 

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up in my suit. Do that cheesy upside down kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spider-Man thing, but prom definitely.” 

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter. 

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“What’s your project about, anyways? Didn’t you tell me last night that she gave you her number? Must be pretty serious if she wants to text you.” Riki furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. 

“It’s just tying the theme of the book to one character and writing about how they show it. So we did the theme of money and Gatsby, because it’s easy and mentioned so many times.” 

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

“I was planning to read it regardless of who I was partnered with.” 

“Okay- that’s debatable.” There goes another one of Riki’s nachos.

“Gross.” 

He thinks things are going pretty well for you two. The report is being written and your quotes are basically finding themselves, so Riki should give himself a pat on the back for pitching the initial idea for how to go about your assignment. Maybe reading the whole book offered him a few useful pointers, and he goes to sleep that night satisfied with your progress. Maybe Heeseung and Jake were right—maybe he could finally ask you out by prom. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO SAVE THE CITY FROM YET ANOTHER MONSTER TERRORIZING THE STREETS.

He wakes up the next morning, not expecting his alarm to alert his senses to danger. It rings in his head and makes him feel delirious, trying to shake sleep off as he looks out the window for any visible sign of what's wrong. If he could hear the danger in his head then that meant someone could be hurt, and he could go to school without a few hours of sleep if he worked fast enough, right? 

Riki slips into his suit without much thought and goes to crack his window open, only to look back at his clock and read the horrific time of 6:23AM. 

Who the hell picks a fight with a teenager at this ungodly time? 

Then, he shoots from his wrists, once, twice, and suddenly, he's off, covering more ground through the air in just three seconds than he ever could while walking or running for minutes on end.

The source of his tingling spidey-sense is some large metal centipede creature that was setting off car alarms in a neighborhood near the market. Thankfully, no one was really awake to be caught in the crossfire, but he has to figure out how the hell he's going to catch that thing in...he checks his watch…twenty minutes? 

Hopefully, his instinct will help him win this time—again. 

The web he shoots out does nothing to stop the monster, and considering how it connected them both, the threads only drag the superhero to the edge of the building he was initially watching from. With some yelling and pulling, he finally detaches, and realizes that the odd sizzling feeling in his bonds must be from the same source as a few days ago; Spark. 

He had this gut feeling that a villain as strong as him wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily, but his wounds were so deep and the blood loss so bad from a few nights ago that he couldn’t have truly dumped him in the ocean without fainting or suffering something permanent, and although Riki hoped things in the universe would work itself out, the presence of the giant fifty foot insect alone is proof that things were not in his favor. 

He jumps off the building onto another, working quickly as he strings up a few webs between the houses as a wall for the monster, watching it slide and knock over cars in its wild pursuit. The monster spends a few seconds breaking down the wall of webbing and climbing over it, the many legs easily breaking through. As the superhero jumps across buildings and keeps track of the centipede’s movement, he has no idea why it isn’t going for him, and that makes his job much harder without the attention of the monster. One glance at the direction the centipede is headed in sets off another ding in Riki’s head—but this time, it finally clicks why the centipede is headed away from the boy. 

It’s attracted to the power plant. 

Riki immediately jumps and swings off of a lamp post, using the momentum of gravity and the force of his swing to propel him faster than the slithering creature. Squinting, he holds out his fist and points his pointer and pinky out, following the movement of the centipede as he aims. 

Bam. 

He sends clusters of silky white threads down precisely at the first pair of legs to pin it down. The webs stop the creature momentarily, and Riki doesn’t have time to watch how the body shrinks up and fizzes out with blue shocks as it tries to wiggle loose and malfunctions. This fight would be over soon, and the boy smiles when he jumps down to shoot more webs to apprehend the centipede. It wiggles and sends electricity out through parts of its body, trying to pry itself out. He expects it to simply be a robot of sorts following a mission considering its avoidant behavior, but as he approaches the tail, the monster suddenly swings at Riki, and its mass and speed is incomparable to the boy’s reaction speed. 

Riki lands into a tree and someone’s garage, feeling the crumbling wall falling all over him and the sudden pain blooming in his lower back. 

This fight will, in fact, not be over soon. 

With his superhuman abilities, Riki grabs onto the metal of the car beside him to hoist himself up, coughing from the dust, and jumping over the rubble to see how quickly the centipede creature can get out, without regard for his current state. The sound and rumble of the giant monster is all he needs to know that the traps are effective, but not at the previous capacity. 

The plan is simple: apprehend the legs and crush the head, where Riki assumes the decision-making and programming is taking place. But the monster’s angry and erratic actions throw a wrench in his plan. Its legs move faster, digging into the cement and leaving ruin in its wake as it continues down the road. While both the villain and superhero are fast, the distance between the power plant is finite—and only grows smaller and smaller.  

Although Riki can feel the bruises coming, he runs and swings, hearing the wind in his ears as he catches up to the centipede in no time. He tries the same tactics again–aim, shoot, stick, all the while keeping his distance. Although the monster’s body spans incredibly long, and should carry an immense amount of weight, the way it snaps at Riki’s flying body and sends shockwaves through his core leaves him shivering as his body slams into the ground, coughing. It hurts all over, and it feels like there’s weight on his eyes when he tries to open them and get up. His head is spinning as he staggers onto his knees, clutching his chest as he watches the centipede shrivel and crackle. 

It seems like the voltage produced is a double-ended sword, one that burns up the centipede body as much as it deals damage, and with the way the mutant creeps towards the electricity of the plant, Riki gets the feeling there’s a magnetic pull that forces the mutant to continue to crawl even against its instinct to stop. 

Despite his waning strength, however, Riki knows better than to half finish the job like last time. He creates a net from experience, weaving together the thickest and most durable threads to trap the entirety of the slowly approaching creature. It seems to crawl slowly up the makeshift barrier, knocking its head against the white and spreading the bright blue waves of its energy throughout. The boy watches as the thin white mass absorbs all of it and clings to the creature. It works, finally, after his attempts to nullify its movements, and he knows that despite the ache in his every step, the almost mummified centipede that hangs between several roofs for all the neighbors to gawk at is his sure sign of victory. 

All he remembers is hearing a familiar call of his hero name before his legs give out and his head hits Jake’s chest. 

Holy fucking shit is the first thing Riki thinks when he wakes up. 

He’s not out of his tattered suit and he feels grimy all over, but his body has done wonders in reducing the otherwise fatal injuries he got. No human body should be able to withstand two energy-filled blasts, but his suit and superhuman healing are of greater help than ever in alleviating the damage from his wounds. 

He knows why he’s in his bed with bandages thrown over his open wounds. He knows that every time something like this happens, it’s Jake who shoos away the concerned civilians, telling them he’s a medic. Jake is not a medic—rather, he’s a seventeen year-old boy who knows about his friend’s double life and with all the times he’s saved Riki, someone might as well dub him the greatest medic of all time. 

The clock on his bedside table has only served as a bearer of bad news. He looks over to see how it’s practically midday, and he’s missed yet another day of school from fighting crime. He’s in no condition to get up or get his bag, seeing how his hair is frizzy and his cheek has a cut that would warrant questioning. It seems only fair that he stays absent, and before he falls back asleep, he only prays you aren’t too mad at him for leaving the seat next to you empty.

But you aren’t mad, just worried. The soreness in his muscles doesn’t go away though, and he groans when he sits up in his bed, with bandages around his arms and an ice pack discarded next to him. 

He’s most definitely not coming to school like this. 

While you bore holes into the clock hanging off the wall, that doesn’t speed up the time. Two minutes pass, then another minute. As your classmates find their partners and begin discussing, you notice how the room gets louder with the due date looming near. It’s the first time you’re alone without the familiar boy beside you, and something hangs low in your chest when you put in a pair of earphones and open your laptop. 

Riki’s absence should have no effect on you. After all, you’re both just high school students who’ve talked once or twice, and yet you still look over at the empty chair. Staring doesn’t make Riki appear, though, and you return to your edits. It feels empty without his insight, or without him asking you to help him with a passage. Riki was your solution to all things boring. If he wasn’t doing his work, then you two were laughing at something on his phone. And if you agreed to both do something other than the report, then you could ask for an extra opinion when deciding prom details. There was something freeing about working with him that attracted you. Riki knew how to lighten the mood on days that weren’t so good for you, but he also worked hard and let loose at the same time. There was a perfect balance in Riki’s life that you aspired to have; it was a good mix of playful, dedicated, and fun all in the same vein. 

The words blend together on your screen. Jay Gatsby this, Tom Buchanan that, it all looks monotonous the more you keep trying to read and comprehend what exactly you’re talking about. 

Before class is dismissed, Mr. Yoo steps to the front of the classroom to gather everyone’s attention. He introduces your new novel for the next month, explaining yet another large assignment associated with the text. 

Truth be told, you don’t pay attention to any of it. 

The only thing you remember to do is to grab extra copies of the printed graphic organizers, as you get out of your seat and rush out when class ends in pursuit of one specific boy. 

“Sim Jaeyun!” The call of his name diverts Jake’s attention from his phone to your waving arm as you weave through the students and finally reach him. 

“You can just call me Jake,” he explains, “what’s up?” 

You begin to reach into your backpack, trying to feel for your folder, and pull out a few sheets. “These are for Riki.” 

Jake cheers internally for his friend who’s busy recovering at home. “What, you got a crush on him or something?” 

He tries to play it cool by teasing you, but the smile you bite back leaves the boy questioning if there really is anything going on. Jake knows better than to tell you anything about Riki’s feelings, and opts to instead grab the papers and to thank you for looking out for his friend. 

“Is Riki okay?” You have to know, just to make sure he’ll be here tomorrow to cure your boredom. 

What Jake says is much different than the nonchalant wave and half grin he gives you. “He’s just bedridden.” 

“That’s pretty serious! Did he come down with anything?” He seemed fine yesterday, so what’s the catch?

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.” 

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up. 

Your confusion and silence answers him far more than words ever could–he basically hears the gears turning slowly in your head.

Jake weakly defends, “His parents had a fight with him because he hit his head or something. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Just bedridden from sadness, y’know?” 

The look you give him is unconvinced, but when Heeseung pats him on the shoulder and waves to you, the boy realizes that maybe staying quiet would’ve been the better decision. 

“I’ll see you later, ____.” And he’s off, waving half-heartedly and dragging a very confused Heeseung out of the cafeteria. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP AS GENTLY AS HE CAN.

Ever since March started and flowers began to bloom, your energy seemed to do the opposite, dwindling until Riki catches you mirroring his frequent in-class action: sleeping. And it worries him beyond belief, because you’re not the type to fall asleep like… ever. However, Riki does not have the heart to wake you up, even if it’s with a little nudge that you probably barely feel with how light he taps. It breaks his heart to have to ask you to review what he has done, because the bell is about to ring and the teacher might just send you to detention if he catches you off-task. 

The allergies always make Mr. Yoo irritable, and Riki knows not to get on his nerves. 

Your eyes flutter open to the pokes and prodding from none other than Nishimura Riki, who gazes at you softly when you adjust to the bright classroom setting once more. 

Panic settles in. “Wait- how long was I sleeping for?” 

He shrugs and scrunches his nose, not giving you an answer as he finishes scribbling something in his notebook. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand squeezes into a fist at the frustration that you’ve let your partner down. 

And yet, Riki seems to be unfazed, frowning when he sees you stressing out. “Don’t ever sweat the little things, yeah? If there’s anything you ever need to talk about–trust me, I know what it’s like to have a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Smiling at him, you respond with, “Thank you, really.” 

Being treasurer is daunting in the spring. It’s full of requests, forms, and small tasks that leave you spent by the end of the day. “But,” you glance at the clock to see just how much time is left, “how’d you know?” 

He motions to your open computer with a now dark screen. “I saw your document pulled up. ____’s tasks or else she will be kicked out of student government,” he taunts, snickering when your eyes grow wide with embarrassment and you lightly nudge his shin with your foot in warning. 

“It’s not polite to snoop,” and although you say that, you catch something in your peripheral vision. It’s a few drawings of a figure and gadget drawn, shaded from rigid shapes with small descriptions pointing to different places. You weren’t sure what was more surprising; how good the drawings were, or the subject of his imagination. 

Weird. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with Riki drawing a villain, and you chalked it up to him being creative. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He puts his hands up in surrender at your last comment, his grin showing anything but. Just one look at the boy makes you realize that everything you’ve just thought about is foolish. 

There’s no way he’d have time to be a villain and a student. With one final thought, you let your raging thoughts rest and focus on the present; him. You’ve seen his hair messy, especially after his naps, but when Riki tries to style it like how he did today, you pay more attention to the streaks of blonde and how he often hides behind his bangs and scrunches his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute.

The truth is, you enjoy being around him like this, joking around and never worrying too much about your responsibilities and expectations. It’s refreshing. Being around Riki gives you the feeling that things will be okay in the end. 

You snap out of your thoughts to see that his desk is empty, while your’s hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re going to sell prom tickets now, right?” He makes small talk before leaving for lunch, closing the notebook you were suspiciously eying before slipping it into his bag. 

“Yup,” you answer, popping the ‘p,’ “I’ll see you later,” and you two part ways.

All the long lines and constant distribution of change doesn’t allow much wiggle room for you to daydream. As time goes on, the ticket-selling line grows smaller and smaller, but the only thing you truly care about is eating the lunch your parents packed you. Your sandwich is probably sad and soggy now that there are only a few minutes of lunch left. When you finally sign off one last time after triple checking the forms are all correct, you let out a sigh, leaning back and finally getting a break. 

Then, it hits you that you’re not even sure if the boy you’re fawning over is attending the biggest event of the year, and you feel stupid for forgetting to ask. 

-

Yesterday was a rookie’s mistake–today, you’d make sure you get an answer from him.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm. 

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah, whatever confidence he had when convincing himself he’d ask you out isn’t serving him well at this moment. Quite frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?” 

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes for the new book you’re reading. 

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it carefully, really because you don’t have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to be someone I know—someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from over-thinking if he keeps on wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐  talk to ____ regularly 

☐  don't make it awkward 

☐  be..cute? 

The boy decides that his superhuman responsibilities might be easier to complete than any of those three things. 

He switches the subject to stop his head from hurting too much. “Did you finish the report?” 

You still, and Riki’s question reminds you of the report looming over your head. In your defense, you two hadn’t brought it up much in the past week, and he didn’t seem to worry over how much of your time was spent emailing teachers or making spreadsheets. Although caught off guard, you’re quick to respond with, “What did we have to finish? I thought we were done since last week, but if there’s anything else-” 

“Sorry,” he rushes out, biting his lip, “I meant, if you finished reading it.” And the answer is no, you haven’t read it since your last edit on it three days ago. 

Within a few clicks, you find the document and scroll to the bottom, seeing the small note that Riki left that said ‘let me know how it looks.’ It’s sweet to know he thought about your input as much as you did his. 

“While some can agree that Gatsby’s rise into high society was sketchy, Gatsby still retains the same reserved character from years ago, and doesn’t manipulate others into success or use his money for nefarious purposes. It’s not like he changed after his wealth, and it could be argued Gatsby loved Daisy until his last breath and was willing to die as long as she was happy, emphasizing the theme of sacrifice. 

So, is Jay Gatsby a good person? The question targets the morality of a character who many can empathize with. Those who are charmed by his overwhelming love for Daisy would say that he’s committed textbook crimes, but focus more on the intent behind it. To pine after someone from a distance isn’t easy, but to pursue her after years of separation is even harder. It’s universally agreed, however, that love as a driving force doesn’t nullify what he’s done to others and the dirty schemes he’s enacted to gain the power he has. Therefore, Gatsby makes for an interesting main character, and highlights just how twisted a system around money can be.” 

The last page is–for the most part–his writing, and your admiration for him grows when you finish reading and scroll to hit your Works Cited page.

“It’s good,” you tell him wholeheartedly, “Didn’t think you had it in you.” 

Riki cracks a smile at your light teasing, soaking up your praise. 

“Now you know.” He shrugs. And he can only hope that you like him as much as you like his literary skills. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE COMES TO THE REALIZATION THAT HE IS EXACTLY LIKE JAY GATSBY,JUST WITHOUT THE MONEY—DESPERATE FOR THE GIRL OF HIS DREAMS, DYING YOUNG, AND A FRAUD HIDING BEHIND SECRETS.

Nevermind the last one, he has to hide when he has an identity to protect as the city’s only superhero, but Riki feels his heart sink to his heels when he read a few weeks ago how much Gatsby simply adores Daisy. When Gatsby died, he scoffed, closing the book with a sudden disinterest. If he were the male lead, he wouldn’t have been laying in a pool for target practice. Maybe being a superhero teaches you how to avoid being easy bait for all your enemies, or maybe Gatsby was too carried away with love to think straight. 

Fighting crime gives you insurmountable experience with sneaking around, but it wasn’t something he could just teach to anyone. When he gets this horrible gut feeling that something’s happened to you, he just knew something was wrong. He might not be easy to catch, but for anyone else? Definitely.  

For everyone else, prom was a month away, but for you, it was three weeks of talking to your advisor and president, arguing with your other board members, and sitting behind that damn money box for another five days to sell tickets. For you, it was realizing that you were supposed to buy streamers and balloons yesterday on your way home from school. It was the thinly veiled disappointment in your board member’s texts when they told you they were at a loss for words. ‘I’m sorry, and I know you’re busy, but how could you forget? Prom is so important for all of us. What if they don’t have what you need anymore?’ It all repeated in your head as you bit your lip in frustration and slipped on the first pair of shoes you could find. Although it was dark and dangerous, you could care less if it meant avoiding the passive aggressive comments you’d get tomorrow during your meeting.

There it is again: that little tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings. 

You yelp when you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, muffling your screams as he pulls you along. To see him on the news was worrying, but to see Spark in person with your life on the line is even worse. 

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle against the metal to no avail, and you curse every previous moment you spent worrying about balloons rather than your safety.

Spark suddenly stops, shoving you against the wall before his hand grabs a brick with his metal arm, beginning to climb. “Don’t let go.” And you don’t think twice before holding on.

The city view would be beautiful if you weren’t hearing your heartbeat in your ears or if you weren’t dangling from the railing of some company building, trying to wiggle yourself free of the rope around your wrists. 

Spark speaks up, drumming his fingers on the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is, would you?” And you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely questioning for a moment if he really knew how the superhero operated. 

A voice from across the street puts a temporary hold on your thoughts, and you glance up to see a flash of blue and red soaring through the air, followed by a groan and a beam of light next to you. Seeing Spark’s powers right in front of you spurs you into action, yanking at the rope and trying to take tiny steps away from where they were fighting.

“From what I’m seeing, you wanted to hold someone hostage because you’re not feeling too good, huh?” Spider-Man shouts as he shoots out webs and blocks hits. You shake your head in partial disbelief of how unserious he is, but also how unbelievable all of this seems. “You tried to take a potion or something? I’m going to tell you this now, but these usually don’t work.” 

Riki’s assumption is right, and considering how Spark now has a leg and arm from metal instead of just the arm, the procedure for the additional limb couldn’t have been easy. The superhero still proceeds with caution, making sure to pay attention to anything new as he dodges and fights back. 

The villain immediately gets back up, stumbling for a moment before he regains his stance and runs towards the boy. You hear the clanging of fist hitting metal from their fight, and considering the difference in height and build, you’d expect Spider-Man to be easily flung to the side, but he holds his weight in battle. 

Riki aims for around the left shoulder, where an abundance of stitches cover the skin and fuse the metal into muscle. He lands a hit, and almost another one, before a punch to the side knocks him from his momentum. The boy wheezes when his back makes instant contact with the ground, rolling and getting up before Spark has time to shoot. 

He notices how quickly the gadget generates electricity now. Before, the beams took longer, and were easily predictable, but now, it glows bright for a moment before it fires directly in Riki’s path. The boy dodges the first, but the second one almost hits the top of his head before he ducks and creates distance. 

From the roof-top, Riki scans his surroundings before making the split-second decision to jump. 

He swings to the other side of the building, keeping you in his peripheral vision as he works on apprehending the villain in front of him. They spring into yet another fist fight, with Riki’s agility easily letting him avoid punches and land precise hits to make the previous injuries even worse. 

You think Spider-Man has the upper hand in this, seeing as how none of Spark’s punches seem to slow down the superhero, but you hear something loud before you can register it. 

You figure out what happened after Riki stumbles and suffers a blow to the stomach, sending him tumbling to the edge of the building. Spark knew that Spider-Man was avoiding his left arm—he knew that one wrong move paired with the tungsten material would have a lasting effect on the superhero’s fist. 

Riki coughs from the impact before his spidey-sense rings, pulling him back into battle as he runs as fast as his body can take him. 

You. He still needs to save you. 

With renewed vigor, he continues to avoid the flying sparks as he ducks between structures and uses the terrain to his advantage. He can tell, though, that the villain is slowing down. The shots are less accurate–a telltale sign that the enhancer Spark tried is working against him. 

Between all of the chaos, Riki finally lands a proper web, yanking as hard as he can to pull Spark to the ground. He stumbles, grasping at thin silk before Riki lets go on his side. The villain’s balance is off, giving the boy an advantage as he closes the distance, hopping over a thrown slab of metal and landing a solid kick into Spark’s ribcage. As he stays down, Riki continues to aim for muscle and flesh, his head spinning as he packs punch after punch to keep the villain apprehended. 

Spark’s body–curled into itself to absorb the hits the best that he can– hides the growing blue flash that he’s slowly charging up with his remaining power. The moment it escapes from under his abdomen, Riki directs his efforts towards avoiding the electric glimmer. The villain rolls over, his body tattered from the consistent injuries, and he fires what seems like an intense bullet of energy. It zips by the boy’s cheek, cutting the mask and leaving blood to run down in its wake. Time slows down as the superhero tries to process the unlocked speed of the burst, and Spark loses focus marveling at his new abilities. Never before had either of them seen power so concentrated, and it inflicts both fear and excitement. 

He lifts his arm, the other holding it up for support, and Spider-Man notices the fizzle of bright blue. Riki’s about to jump out of the way, preparing for yet another high-speed bullet, but before Spark fires, something clicks. The arm doesn’t directly point to Riki–but it skews off to the right.

Except, he’s no longer aiming for Riki in the split second that the boy blinks. He’s suddenly aiming at you, where your hands are tied to the railing and your feet are dangling from the bent metal that holds you precariously over the edge, leaving a fifty foot drop in its wake. When you see the blue energy in the villain’s palm growing slowly bigger, you pull at the rope desperately with zero regard to the tender rawness of your wrists. 

In your attempt to somehow break the rope, your cry of fear snaps Spider-Man into action. 

Riki pushes his sore body to jump as quick as he can, leaping across the rooftop to the building over. He easily avoids the metal railing, grabbing onto your arm as he yanks hard on the rope, the force of it separating a piece of metal from the railing. He immediately jumps, sending out a web to swing him back up. It all happens in a flash–first, you were bound to the edge about to fall to your death, and all of a sudden, you’re tightly pressed against Spider-Man’s chest with your bound wrists still attached to the metal. Shutting your eyes, you trust Spider-Man entirely, closing your eyes to avoid seeing just how far up you were. Wind rushes in your ears and leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies until the superhero sets you down on a secluded rooftop. 

“Please,” he begs, “don’t leave. I’ll be right back.” 

You’d be a fool to do anything but wait. 

Riki checks on you one last time before diving down, springing himself back up with another web. The damage from the blasts is recognizable even from far away, and yet, he notices the reflective shine of a metal arm on the edge of the building before Spark lets go. 

To Riki, Spark is dead after dropping from a fall having taken that much damage, but he hears no impact. Making haste, the boy fails to find any figure no matter how hard he looks, but Spark’s laboratory has to be here somewhere. The badge from a week ago was stuck on Riki’s mind, and he could only imagine the reasons why he pursued this life. Was he recreating something? If he needs to power some sort of machine, then the heart of the city is a perfect place to harness the electricity for any large scale project. As much as he wants to dedicate the rest of the night to searching the city for some sort of clue, the fact that you’re still stranded on that rooftop after having just experienced a life-changing event blares like an alarm in his mind. 

He quickly leaves, returning to where you’re seated.

Without the fear of falling to your death from earlier, you were able to focus on undoing the knots from the rope. Red scratch marks and irritation bloom on your wrist, and the reality of it all happening still hasn’t settled in. Despite not being harmed once, the fear and incessant pounding of your heart overwhelms your senses, and it leaves you heaving with confusion. 

A pair of footsteps only become apparent as Riki walks closer, taking a seat beside you and letting out a large sigh. He stares at the stars silently as if he doesn’t have a cut on his cheek and bruises waiting to paint his skin purple–as if he isn’t hiding his true self under a facade. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You shake your head, grateful that Spider-Man was the reason you got away without a real injury.

“Thank you, really, for saving me. I don’t know how you manage to do it.” 

Riki chuckles under the mask. “Eh, you get used to it,” you hear Spider-Man say. “You fight a couple bad guys, get over a fear of heights and eventually you get the hang of things.” 

Scoffing, you gently rub at your wrists to ease the redness. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t been taught a crash course on how to avoid being supervillain bait just yet.” 

“Maybe you should learn it sometime,” Riki responds absentmindedly, “someone like you shouldn’t have been out so late doing whatever it could’ve been.” 

Sighing, your mind drifts off to think about the balloons and streamers that are not in your hand. “I had stuff for my upcoming events.” 

He knew about all of it when you’d explain your cryptic reminders and notes on your computer, but he still feigns curiosity. “What upcoming events?” 

“Just prom,” and he hears just how strained it makes you. 

Riki tilts his head in faux confusion. “What do you have to do for prom?” 

He notices how you immediately slump, as if the mere mention of prom deflates your happiness. “It’s only a few weeks away, and I was supposed to get decorations for our venue yesterday. I just wanted to slip out before my parents noticed.” 

Despite the fabric over his eyes, Riki’s expression shifts from surprise to pity when he understands your stakes. “You still need to be careful. Is your student council strict?” 

“Not strict necessarily, but judgemental–I ran for the position because I thought I could help my school raise funds and find more opportunities, but it just feels like no one truly wants to try anything new.” You wave it off as if it’s not that important, as if it isn’t the reason why you find yourself stressed so often. “I just don’t want to disappoint or give people something to talk about.” 

Despite not being involved with school the same way you are, the boy next to you resonates with the fear you currently face. The fear of letting people down was a large part of why Riki continued to put on that mask and step into the most dangerous situation of his life; he never wanted to sit down to hear the news that Spider-Man quit. 

So he keeps doing his job, even if some days are harder and some fights aren’t worth winning–just like what you do. 

“Yeah, I get that,” he tries to console, “You must be doing a lot for everyone around you, and I’m sure a lot of people appreciate what you’ve done. Don’t beat yourself up too much, yeah? You’ll always have me.” He smiles, but he knows you don’t see it. You’re looking at the stars, trying to calm your mind and return to your life before everything happened. 

You glance over at Spider-Man, wondering if he’ll truly be around for you when you need it. “If I need to talk to you, should I step out of my house past 8PM again?” 

Riki chuckles, watching clouds slowly dim the moon’s glow in their path. “If I’m not fighting crime, I’ll show up at a moment’s notice.” 

There’s no way he means it, but you grin, feeling a lot of the pressure and stress of earlier slowly wash away. After all, nothing happened to you–Spider-Man made sure of it. Maybe things really were going to be okay. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah? Don’t you have stuff to do anyways?” 

You shrug, nothing really coming to mind. As you get up, you remember having to run a plagiarism check on your work, and how Riki told you to text him when you got home after your student government meeting. 

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man. 

“Wait,” you tell Spider-Man, sitting back down on the cement, “I need to talk to you about something else, too.” 

“It’s not like my dinner’s getting cold,” the superhero mumbles quiet enough that you can’t hear. 

“There’s this guy,” you start, paying no mind to how dirty your clothes are getting when you cross your legs. 

Spider-Man scoffs, looking off into the distance, and it makes you believe he has to be your age or older. “You have a crush on him, or something?” And a whole tidal wave of deja vu hits you in the chest. 

‘He must be badly hurt’ isn’t just something people say. People don’t just draw insanely detailed drawings of Spark’s arm and machines without notes to follow unless they knew. People wouldn't just randomly miss school without any impending signs. You’re sure of it–the tired naps in class, the random drawings of superheroes and superhumans alike, or how awkward he could act–it all makes sense.

Your classmate, aka Nishimura Riki, aka the guy who you’ve questioned if you had a crush on for the past few days, might be a villain. 

The swirling feeling of trepidation in your stomach leaves three words running around your head. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Although you tried so hard to stop thinking about it, Jake’s comment from before rubbed you the wrong way. It was sometime last week where you couldn't get your mind off of the implications of his words, but that feeling was brushed underneath your responsibilities. 

Until now. 

“Yeah, there’s this guy,” you breathe, feeling your chest constrict, “Nishimura Riki. I think he’s Spark.” 

His blood runs cold. 

“You think this…why?” 

You take a deep breath, trying to organize all your thoughts. “Well, first, it was his friend, Jake. He said that Riki was badly hurt, and I was really confused at first, but tried to let it go.” 

Riki was going to strangle his best friend. 

“And then, I was looking at him in class, right? And keep in mind, he’s pretty cute, and we sit next to each other, so I just noticed how good his hair looked that day, but his notebook was out, and I saw all these drawings of Spark. Like, the arms, the metal things, even the projectiles! Who would know the ins and outs of that thing if it wasn’t Spark himself?”

He didn’t know what to think about first; the fact that you gushed about him for the first time, or if he should even tell you that Spider-Man would know those things, too. 

“And sometimes, I notice he’s a little awkward around me. I can’t explain it. It’s like he’s paying attention to me. That must’ve been why he captured me.” He wants to laugh at how damn close you are to figuring it out, but in reality, nothing is funny about the situation. 

Nishimura Riki is actually listening to this, right now, as Spider-Man–not Spark. The awkwardness, though? It was his crush on you, and was not superhuman related in the slightest.  

“I don’t know,” he attempts to divert, pretending to focus, “I saw a badge for FLiGHT. You know the company that’s been making time traveling machines? I saw a glimpse of his name and face. It’s not that guy you mentioned.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “And you haven’t gotten him caught?” 

“Villains aren’t easy to find, y’know. It’s not like playground hide and seek,” Riki defends, crossing his arms. 

You shrink in your spot, feeling sheepish for questioning a superhero so bluntly. 

“Plus,” he continues, “Spark has never had a hostage. Wouldn’t it be pretty mean of that friend of yours to kidnap a girl from his class?” 

“Yeah—that makes sense. Thank god,” you breathe, closing your eyes momentarily. “Then what do you suspect all that evidence leads to? Maybe he’s a secret agent?” 

“I think,” Riki continues to keep up his clueless facade, “Your friend might just be clumsy. Or creative. I mean, maybe he went through a break-up?” Nice one, Riki. 

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way he has a girlfriend. You’d think I like guys who are taken?” Scoffing lightly, you then remembered that Spider-Man really would have no idea who any of you are. 

He shrugs and stands up stretching before motioning for you to follow him. “I have no idea what you high school kids do. Come on, let’s get you home.” 

As you hug him tight, the cold air whips around your body and leaves goosebumps in their wake. You barely open your eyes from the fear of seeing yourself inches from hitting a building or up in the air. Spider-Man only yells his confirmation after asking how to get you home, finally placing you on the ground outside of your large gate. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

“Anytime. Figure things out with that friend of yours, and don’t go out late, okay?” You nod and take his words to heart. 

“Goodnight, Spiderman.” 

—-

Nishimura might die. One, because he has this horrible guilty feeling in his stomach, and two, because of a villain. 

Yesterday, he ignored the salmon and rice bowl that waited for him back at home, choosing to follow the coordinates he saved on his phone after he took you home. It led him to a seemingly harmless auto-shop, with an arrow on his GPS pointing to a garage that was shut down completely with nails and blocked with boxes. The exterior pointed to it being abandoned, but Riki suddenly saw some light coming from a makeshift above.

The boy scaled the wall as quietly as possible, glancing into the source of the whirring. He caught small glimpses of something–metal, glowing, blue. 

Or at least, for a few seconds it was on until the power went out. 

The voice that complained from inside the room sounded identical to the man Riki fought. Spark grumbled, turning on a flashlight and quickly waving it around. Riki ducked from the window and held his breath, waiting for the man to suspect something. 

Nothing. 

One lightbulb slowly flickered back on, and then the other dingy light followed. The space was cramped with the metal equipment in the middle, resembling what Riki had seen in the news. 

He was right–it was the same time travel portal that was ruined from a few months ago. 

Spider-Man continued to observe the man as he worked and drilled, plugging certain wires or pausing momentarily to read from a journal. To anyone, it’d seem peaceful, like some sort of renovation project. But in reality, it was so much more than that. 

Riki searched for any sort of information about the machine, trying to see what exactly was left to do until his gaze landed on something. 

There was some sort of date on a bright pink sticky-note, and Riki’s eyes widened when he finally comprehends it. 

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow. 

-

A street lamp next to Riki dies out—which was a clear sign that something was powering up. From the dark, he hears the metal from the same place as last night moving again, and he knows that Spark has left. His presence sends anyone down the street and immediately running, leaving the area for only them two. 

Riki finally sees the completed metal build. Half of his body is wrapped in or replaced with metal parts as he sets down the metal portal, beginning to push it in the direction of the power plant. 

A truck or car would make things much easier, but whatever.

Riki wants to cry from fear and run away. He wants to leave and pretend he never saw anything from last night. 

He’s going to die fighting Spark and he will quite literally a) never finish highschool and get that stupid diploma, b) finish explaining how Gatsby is not a good person and is naturally selfish, and c) he’s never going to tell you how he’s had a small crush on you ever since he saw your cute campaign video as to why you should vote y/n l/n for student body treasurer last spring. 

“You sure that thing works?” Riki asks, jumping into action as he sends webs to immobilize the machine. 

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Spark sends a projectile in the superhero’s direction, hitting the wall behind him instead as Riki jumps out of the way.

With another duck mid-air and the roof of a flying car dangerously close to his nose, Riki thanks the dance practice he does for his flexibility as he shoots another web and swings away. 

Spark is uncontrollable by now, sucking the light from street lamps and fizzing wires in his wake. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get in contact with the villain like before. The body of his suit fizzes with bright electricity that sizzles and pops. It illuminates Spark’s figure, making him easy to spot, but not so easy to defeat. It’s an overload of power, causing the voltage to escape between the joints and gaps of the metal pieces in his suit. And Riki can feel it; the air is heightened and so are the stakes of this fight—and with how the man that stands in front of him looks upgraded and menacing, he knows only one person can make it out of this fight alive. 

“You injected the city’s ‘Gas and Electric’ into your system or what?” Riki calls out, making light of the situation. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared out of his wits seeing the six foot figure with blue and white shooting from every crack, looking like a nightmare to touch.

Riki avoids a few more angrily thrown objects, using the momentum of his jump from the side of the building to zip from the top of a yellow fire hydrant to go from one side of the street to the other. “You’re slow!” He taunts, tucking in his legs to avoid a shot of electricity directed at him. 

The screech of metal from the nearby hydrant can be heard as the top flings off, making Riki lose his anchor/ Before he can process it, instead of smoothly landing on the building, he crashes into it faster than expected, groaning when his back makes contact with the glass and he tumbles into the living room of someone’s apartment. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fighting his aching limbs to get up once more. 

And the solution hits him. Literally. 

When he steps out and quickly attaches a web to the top of the building, he’s met on the way up with a splash of water from the hydrant to his face, and Riki splutters as he wipes his mask, regaining focus as he lands on the concrete and hides behind the ledge. 

Water. If he can get it in contact with Spark and pour enough water on the right spot, the excess of electricity blazing from his mechanical body should work against him. 

“Too scared? You should know better than to run away.” The superhero rolls his eyes, crawling away silently to avoid being seen by Spark. Riki does his best to look around for something, and finds a black flower pot in the corner, using a web to grab it before he scales the side of the building and runs away while Spark is distracted as the villain also climbs the wall to face him there. But when Spark climbs the ledge and scans the premise, Riki is nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, Riki swings across the street and fills the pot with water, heaving the extra weight as he shouts out from the sudden pain in his side. He stumbles on the pavement, crying out from the injury as the pot falls with his whole plan. 

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies. 

He sucks in a deep breath before rolling from his back onto his knees, ignoring the wound to pick up the flower pot. The hydrant still shoots out water, and the superhero rushes towards it, causing Spark to follow. He narrowly avoids another shot from behind him, reaching the yellow hydrant before dropping the pot on the ground. Spark is th 

While Spark has always been intelligent, Riki could tell that the man didn’t fear the water, believing he’d be invincible to the elements now that his suit was perfected. There was something off, Riki could tell, and he would make sure to use it to his advantage. Spark was uncontrolled, and his powers drastically decreased the more he used them. There’s no way his body isn’t in overdrive with how recklessly he’s been letting himself get hurt. 

Riki uses a web to get himself on higher ground instead of fighting, waiting for the supervillain to follow. If he could get Spark off the edge and fall into the growing puddle of water, it should slow him down. 

Spark scoffs. “Run away, then. Like you always have.” Riki hears the wall crumbling under the villain as he climbs within seconds, immediately preparing to fight when he makes it onto the rooftop. But Spider-Man was also prepared, jumping from his crouched hiding position and attempting to catch Spark off guard. 

All he can focus on now is pushing him off. There’s no way it’d be easy, considering he had to focus on his touching any of the electricity off of his suit. Riki delivers a kick to Spark in the ribcage near his heart, where he’s fused metal into flesh. The villain coughs before taking a step back, his metal arm reaching for Riki’s outstretched leg. He grabs it, twisting with anger before the boy meets the ground in a violent throw. Not only is the slam greater because of the enhanced strength, but the power seeps into Riki’s skin, leaving it hot from the energy radiating off of his palm. 

The boy groans, flipping to his side to avoid a fatal hit to the chest. He reaches for Spark’s normal arm, swinging the villain’s body away with as force as he could to create distance between them. 

Riki has been in enough fights to simply know when to run, even if he doesn’t know what’s coming. He could feel the tingle of the charge as it powered up, and with its energy so unrestrained and its user so unstable, the large attempt to hit Riki sends the villain stumbling back from the force. The more Spark uses his powers, the more likely he’s going to end up dead. 

“Your skin can handle that anymore!” he shouts, getting ready to swing himself closer as a plan manifests itself in his head. “You’ll die like this!” 

Spark seems to know that too as he wipes his mouth and recovers from Riki’s attacks. 

“You think I care?” He shouts, desperately pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. “You think I have anything else for myself?” The vulnerability of his character shines through as he clutches his bleeding wound without regenerative powers to help. “You think I didn’t know that when I did it to myself--what they did to me?” 

Riki doesn’t respond, grimacing as he continues hand-to-hand combat. Although he takes a solid punch to his jaw that’s forming a deep purple bruise, he manages to trip Spark onto the ground.

The man stumbles back from the head injury, the pounding from earlier not letting him to think straight. Riki doesn’t try to injure him anymore, but he instead blocks an incoming punch and tries to force Spark towards the edge. 

The villain barely notices how much space there is left, and the boy lunges with full force. They tackle each other into the ground, and Riki gets off after apprehending him once more. 

The city's a mess, and Spider-Man’s eyes want to shut down so badly, but he takes a few steps in Spark’s direction, pushing him off the side of the building as quickly as he can. Riki hears the thud before he peeks over the edge, seeing the water erode all of the engineering from the machinery. He slowly descends from the rooftop. 

“You were in the accident, huh?” Riki shouts on top of the plethora of sounds. Pain, buzzing electricity, splashes of water as he lands next to Spark; it all echoes in his ears as he pours the water from the pot on Spark’s body. “Why did you try it? Why did you want to go back so bad?”

“If I could go back,” Spark coughs, trying to get away from the large pool of water, “I could’ve prevented the accident from taking the lives of the people around me. I could’ve saved them.” 

Spider-Man understands loss, and he understands the regret that comes with failure. He understands how the man in front of him feels after having everything taken away from him, but his emotions could never justify his actions. 

“You know you can’t change things,” Riki responds, “You tried your best, Spark.” It’s the last thing Riki tells the villain before his body slumps and police sirens grow louder and louder. It’s the last thing that he continues to think about, even if the medic quickly assesses the severity of his wounds. 

“I’m fine- really,” he pushes away the hands of a concerned woman as she holds a roll of bandages. “There’s something else I need to do.” 

Riki knew he had to tell you about this–he couldn’t just let you confide in him about..well, him, without your knowledge. And Riki wasn’t morally perfect, but he knew an explanation would be the only way to fix things.

Your house looks different when jumping over the fence instead of standing in front of it. When he realizes he has no idea what room belongs to you, he racks his brain, suddenly remembering how yours was the only one with a gray balcony over the pool. And so he climbs, slipping from the exhaustion creeping into his body. 

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right? 

“____, a little help?” And what the fuck is Nishmura Riki doing outside of your door? You go to investigate the muffled sound, inching towards the curtains and pulling them back to expect him there. When you hear a half yelp and a hissing sound that follows right after, without a person anywhere in sight, your heart drops to its stomach. 

Do not say it’s true. 

“Riki, where the fuck are you?” you ask, traversing out when you don’t see him anywhere across the glass. 

“Down here.” You run in the direction of the voice, and your eyes grow comically large and you gasp, staring down at the sight before you. 

“Holy shit.” 

There Nishimura Riki is, with his mask half burned off his face and his blonde and black hair messy and matted to his forehead with sweat. The suit is ripped in multiple locations with gashes and purple replacing the healthy skin underneath. His face is in more of a grimace, as he holds onto the web with both hands and one foot planted on the stone of your balcony—read; the bottom of your balcony. 

“A little help?” And you see his sheepish emotion through the tattered fabric, embarrassed after you had to find him in such a compromising situation. “I’m a little worn out and I think my webs are getting weaker.”

You’re a little frustrated with him for being out so publicly, but more scared and worried for his condition. Your gaze narrows on the mask, tattered and covered with scratches, but clearly visible. It was Spider-Man’s mask. The material gives way to a familiar face, and your mind almost blocks you from putting the pieces together. It’s impossible, almost horrifying to think of the implications of what it means to wear the blue and red suit. 

Instead of being the villain, Riki is, in fact, the savior.

The harsh truth is that your classmate, who you spent the last month working on a project with and suspected was a villain, is the same superhero that went out and risked his life every night fighting crime. It’s jarring to see him like this, breathing heavy and straining against the stone of the balcony, and his cough snaps you out of it. “What the fuck do I do?” 

Riki tries to put his hand up in surrender and shuts his eyes at your harsh tone. “Okay, okay, I get-“ and he cuts himself off with a yelp as his footing slips. 

He holds out his hand, and you immediately bend over the smooth railing to grab it, leaning back on the heels of your feet to help him up the most that you can. You’re filled with confusion when the boy hobbles over the cool surface of the balcony and lets his head rest on the stone, not saying much as he catches his breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest and how his right arm goes to nurse the left side of his ribcage, wincing and sucking in a pained breath as he assesses the smear of red on his fingers. 

Sitting there with your mouth agape, you’re not really sure what to think about first; to check if RIki’s alright, to think about how your city’s greatest superhero is your English project partner, to yell at him for going to your house instead of his house to fix himself up, or to think about how good his side profile looks in the moonlight. Maybe you should’ve just been relieved that the boy you started to like wasn’t a fear-inducing villain.

“Okay, first of all, we need to have a huge talk. But I’m not a medic Riki- I’m going into accounting for fuck’s sake.” He hears the amount of curses flying from your lips as you ramble, and sees how stressed you look watching him sit against your railing. 

“I don’t know how to help you. And also,” you lower your voice and scoot closer, looking around at the large property to really make sure no one’s listening. “you’re Spider-Man?” 

The information all hitting you at once is worse than when your history teacher told you your essay was horrible. At least then, in her office, you could process everything. But here? You’re about to faint. 

“I’m pretty cool, huh?” And of course Nishimura Riki says such a thing, taking deep breaths as he shallowly presses on the blossoming bruises on his skin and wipes the sweat from his brow. 

“Pretty fucking stupid is what it is, Riki.” You cross your arms and try to take a look at where he’s been hurt, hoping that at least he has some sort of regeneration ability that helps him heal much quicker—because there’s no way he could deal with all of this on top of school. 

“I have my reasons,” he says, his voice quiet. 

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “For coming here.”

“What could possibly make you want to come over to my house instead of the nearest hospital? What’s that important to you?”

“I really want to ask you to prom.” 

You simply stare at him, surprised. 

“You came to my house, even though you’re like, a punch away from passing out, to ask me out? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, asked me anytime during the classes we have together?”

Riki somehow finds it in himself to frown and shrink from your angry piercing gaze. “I can’t because talking to you makes me nervous–so yeah, I’m sorry I’m half conscious on your balcony in my suit instead of at your door with a poster.” 

You’re conflicted, your mind still reeling from the recent discovery and your flood of emotions. Ever since you questioned his identity on top of your feelings for him, you had a hard time really knowing if you could like Riki if he turned out to be a villain, so to know that he proved both of your theories wrong leaves you quiet as you think. If possible, the color in the boy’s face drains even more when you go back inside, but the door stays open, and he thinks he hasn’t ruined things after all. You emerge with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bowl of warm water, and a pristine white towel. 

“I’m not mad about that, you idiot,” you reprimand him, setting everything down as you examine the cuts on his face. You squeeze the towel and start to dab at his skin, avoiding the cuts as you clean it. “Who does this for you if not me?” 

“Jake.” 

“Seems like a pretty good friend.” Riki nods in response. 

 “I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting up to properly address you, even if you weren’t able to meet his gaze. 

“For what?”

“For putting this on you–all of it. Not just the whole Spider-Man thing.” He knew he’d have to tell you at some point, or else it’d eat him up inside to know he kept all of it from you. 

“Look at you, saving me mid-air and talking to me as if you didn’t know who I was.”

You notice a flash of regret through his wince as you clean up a cut with antiseptic. “I meant it when I told you I knew what it was like to have a lot of pressure.”

“Guess I wasn’t so far off, then. If we never talked, would you have told me?” Riki shakes his head, and the simple motion leaves you somehow disappointed. 

“How do you ever tell anyone you’re…y’know, Spider-Man?” Even if it’s a hypothetical, you shrug, not being able to answer.

“How’d Jake find out?” 

Riki chuckles and hisses at the same time before trying to remember. “I think I just kicked his window in after a nasty poison got hold of me. He was a little too excited to have Spider-Man on his bedroom floor, and less excited to know it was me. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, though.”

“Then why’d you tell me? You could’ve just gone back to your friends.” 

“I felt guilty–I know, I know, it sounds stupid. I’d definitely get my identity revealed at this rate.” You shake your head. 

“Not stupid. Keep going.” 

“I didn’t care that you suspected me, or if anyone else did, because I knew it was never true. But I felt so bad knowing you were sharing to me how you felt without even knowing it was me who was listening–like I was holding something from you.” 

You admire his honesty, and when you look at his furrowed brows and his lip that he’s been gnawing from worry, you can’t even imagine what he’s had to hide and do for this. In a way, you look up to him more, for trying his best even if he’s gotten all odds stacked against him. Riki’s commendable in your eyes–he always had been, ever since you woke him up in class. 

“I like those things about you, Riki. That you’re honest with yourself and the people around you as much as you can be, and you try to help others when you can. I’m glad we got to know each other more this past month.” Talking to him feels different than talking to Spider-Man from a few days ago; it feels raw, like you’re not just confessing something to a brick wall anymore. If none of this ever happened, you doubt you’d get the chance to tell Riki any of this properly. 

The boy stays silent, taking deep breaths while processing what you’ve told him. “I’m glad I could help you out.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. “I hope you know I don’t like you because you help me out. I like you because you’re attractive, and because you’re genuine,” you blurt. 

Riki laughs despite his ribcage hurting everytime he does so. Riki nods and mumbles a ‘thank you,’ also glad to truly get to know you. While his crush was more of an infatuation with your hard work and amiability, the past few weeks really opened his eyes to who you were. You never wanted to disappoint, and even if your recklessness left you in some dire situations, Riki could see how much effort you really put into things. 

There wasn’t anything else he needed to tell you–you were smart enough to see how much he cared about you.    

You’re so close, your lips glossy with lip balm as you watch him carefully. You hear and see it all; the heavy, labored breathing from his body healing itself rapidly, and the way his hand is full of rough cuts and calluses as his fingers intertwine with yours. But your eyes catch a glimpse of his mask tossed to the side, the blue shining in the corner of your eyes as you’re reminded of who he is right now, and what role you play. You are still ____ ____, but he’s a superhero.

It makes you momentarily forget whose suit you're peeling away, whose skin you're cleaning. It reminds you that he’s just the boy in your English class that you fell for. “What does that make us?”

“Prom-goers,” he answers with a slight nod. 

You smile, wiping a cut before placing the towel back into the bowl for the last time and getting up. “We can be prom-goers, yeah.” 

You’re not sure if you’re ready for anything, and you’re thankful that he understands that, too. As much as it warmed your heart to see him again and hear his confessions, the blaring truth still hangs over your head. You grab his mask, finally looking at him before handing it back and grabbing your things. His secret identity wasn’t something you could just ignore. 

“Go home, Spider-Man,” you turn your back on him, and time slows when you falter before sparing him one more look. “I want you as Riki, not like this.” 

MAYBE NISHIMURA RIKI DOESN'T NEED TO DIE–OR ALMOST DIE–ANYMORE. 

He went home that night with his scars somewhat cleaned and his bruises miraculous healing on their own, and even if slipping through the window left him clutching his side in pain, Riki silently jumped up to celebrate his multiple victories before slipping out of his suit and finally getting some rest. 

Riki’s scared of how he’s affected your relationship. He’s worried you’ll avoid him in the halls, and he’s worried you’d never want to see him again after putting you through all of it. As much as he'd understand how upset you'd be towards him, he hopes he did the right thing by telling you.

But you see him on your way to English, and you call his name. His eyes search for yours in the crowds, and you two see each other before you crush him in a hug. 

Riki isn’t sure how to feel at first, but eventually wraps his arms around you as relief settles in his stomach. 

“Thank you for saving me, Spider-Man,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear. 

He smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you go to English together. “Anytime, ____.” 

NEVERMIND, NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE SEES YOU IN YOUR RED PROM DRESS.

But first, he has to try something out. 

He curses to himself when silently zipping from a tree outside your family property to the top of your house, staring past the ledge two and luxurious stories to your well decorated porch light and door. He just prays that Google Maps is  right about how secluded the area is, so no one can see him pacing around your rooftop, with flowers elegantly wrapped in his hand (courtesy of your mother’s sleek envelope from a few days ago). 

“Fuck it,” he says to himself, shooting a web and dangling himself down. Riki’s upside down figure watches swirled window frames and meticulously designed accents as he descends, and he wonders what kind of shady business your parents could’ve done to afford something so grand. 

He faces your door—hanging down instead of rightside up, but he’s still here on time like he promised. 

The door opens at 6:00PM like he instructed you to, but what he didn’t tell you what to do was shriek and slam the door. On his nose. With a loud yelp, Riki clutches his nose, rubbing the spot you hit and trying to apply pressure to alleviate the pain. 

When the door slowly creaks open again, you face with the image of Nishimura Riki, aka your boyfriend, aka your English partner, aka Spider-Man, curled upside down in the fetal position as he cradles the sore spot on his face and swings slightly from the breeze. 

“You scared me, dumbass! How was I supposed to know it was you? It was so hard to see!” 

Although muffled, Riki’s able to mumble, “You have a porch light for this reason, _____,” and a jab at his stomach from you follows his sarcastic remark. Finally, his nose feels better, and he straightens out to finally look at you. 

Pretty, pretty, pretty, and the boy wonders how you look even more stunning with a glittering red dress and perfectly done make-up. “I like the red,” he says, trying not to freak out over your beauty. “Reminds me of a certain neighborhood superhero.” 

“I have some blue spider earrings to match.” With a beautiful smile, you turn to show him the little accent, and it melts his heart. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine. I should’ve probably put more thought into that.” 

You snicker, sliding into your heels and closing the door behind you. 

“One of us is better at romantic gestures, it seems.” It warrants a scoff, and Riki brings a gloved hand to poke at your forehead teasingly.

“Let me have a do-over, then?” And the way your lips curl up into a bright smile leaves him quiet and in awe. 

“What, were you going to kiss me? Very original, Spider-Man.” With the way the fabric shifts over his features, you can tell he’s pouting. 

“I thought girls liked this.” 

You shrug, pretending you aren’t swept off his feet by the effort he’s put in. Taking a step in his direction, your hands reach up to gently pull the mask over his chin, ears, and then his nose. 

Whispering quietly, you ask, “You’ve kissed other girls upside down?” 

Riki’s quick to shake his head. “You’re the only girl I’d withstand a head rush for.” And god, you just can’t stop yourself from grinning at his sweet, genuine words.

You lean in, placing a small kiss on his nose as a silent apology. Then, you close your eyes and lean into him once more, feeling his hands carefully holding the side of your head and his lips on yours. Your kiss with Riki is saccharine and slow, making you pull away when the urge to beam at him is too much. Your cheeks definitely hurt by how romantic he’s being, and you can’t resist kissing him once more.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts, finally letting himself down, “It feels weird.” 

“You ruined the moment.” And he really didn’t, but you enjoy his subtle reactions to your light digs at him. 

“Whatever.” Riki laughs. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

You nod, sitting down on the porch and dragging a manicured nail over your lips with the ghost of his affections, thinking about how you literally just kissed Spider-Man. 

Riki comes back, dusting off his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles, with a large bouquet of red roses and one blue one snuck in there. Your lips stretch into a grin and you accept the bouquet, keeping a mental note to read the card in there.

“You never cease to amaze me, Riki.” It’s the last thing you mutter to the air before you loop your arms around his neck, urging him to lean down as you kiss him once more—this time rightside up, but still as sickly saccharine as the one before it. Your heart is fuzzy with fondness and your eyes glitter with adoration. 

“So, which kiss was better?” he asks when you pull away, a little breathless and dizzy.

You swat his arm and walk past the gates, seeing the sleek limo waiting by the curb. “I don’t know, Spider-Man. Maybe show up in your suit and we’ll try it again.” 

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

RIKI FIC DONE!!!! ngl y/n u were right there how did u not know riki was spiderman but whatever idc she's a hard worker not smart LMFOAOAO. my first ever action fic so i hope you enjoy! also i hate the ‘oh he pined after her for 4 years she liked him for 2 months’ bs because I WAS IN IT. and it sucks so i tried to deviate from it :)

꣑ৎ permanent fic taglist (TAGGED IN TEASERS, FICS, HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES, ETC.): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog @suneng @mavlogist @sensitively-taken @sumzysworld @simpjay @moons-v @riksaes @txtari @jungwonscatcus @tya0 @sasfransisco @woorcve @shypen @pinkriki @rikisluv @saranghaohoshi @lilifiedeans @wonmyheart @k1ttyluvr @nikisgfff @ramenoil @laurradoesloveu @lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me @ikeulims @missychiefs1404 @qwonyoung23 @yangjungwonnie @onementally-unstabel-kid @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @blooqz @anormieee hi permies hope u enjoy! kith

[theonottsbxtch]

English Love Affair | LN4

an: bouncing out to 5sos rn so this is so happening also thank you for 300 followers!!

fc: hayley williams and pinterest

requests: open

oscarpiastri

liked by ynpiastri, landonorris, lilyzneimer and 927,726 others

got to see little sis live again, @/bandname on tour starting september!

*tap to load more comments*

userone: my fav aussie band

usertwo: we love a supportive brother

userthree: oscar only has one facial expression

landonorris: i’m in love

oscarpiastri: how about no

ynpiastri: it was lovely meeting you!

landonorris: 🥰🥰

userfour: help lando is in his lovergirl era

userfive: see you in london!

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbandname and 373,936 others

london are we ready!!!!!

*tap to load more comments*

userone: YESSSSSS

usertwo: she’s so pretty

nicolepiastri: i raised two very diffrent children

oscarpiastri: she’s definitely dad’s daughter

chrispiastri: ☺️👍

ynpiastri: love you both

userthree: piastri family reunion

userfour: yn supremacy 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

landonorris: see you in london 😉

oscarpiastri: you wish

ynpiastri’s story

[caption: where’s my hot rockstar bf]

story replies:

oscarpiastri: thank god non existent

ynpiastri: let me feel love

oscarpiastri: no

landonorris: im no rockstar but i’m a pretty good driver

ynpiastri: i’ll think about it

ynpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbandname and 827,372 others

london you were a dream

*tap to load comments*

userone: IT WAS SO GOOD

usertwo: yourbandname supremacy

landonorris: no you were

oscarpiastri: get out of my little sister’s comment section

landonorris: "how about no"

ynpiastri: you came?

userthree: LANDO SAY “YOU CALLED” RN

landonorris: couldn’t miss a gig in my home country now?

ynpiastri: ☺️

oscarpiastri: i don’t like this

userthree: i ship already

userfour: isn’t she dating her bassist?

userfive: not everyone dates their bassist

lie detector test with oscar piastri and lando norris

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbandname and 948,826 others

second leg of tour soon - who likes the new badge and shirt my 'friend' got me 🤭

*tap to load more comments*

userone: she’s so real for that

usertwo: i was there!!

userthree: she’s amazing

oscarpiastri: do i have to remind both you and your friend that our parents are on this app?

nicolepiastri: too late osc, too late.

userfour: i love their family

userfive: never change yn

landonorris: facts

usersix: WHAT

userseven: LANDO

oscarpiastri: i just threw up my breakfast

ynpiastri: 😉

usereight: lanyn is happening before our very eyes

usernine: i bet you that 'freind' was lando

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbandname and 963,234 others

seven thousand miles away...

*tap to load more comments*

userone: aesthetic queen

usertwo: getting in touch with nature after that last lando commenrs

userthree: WHAT IS THAT SECOND PHOTO?!

ynpiastri: new album cover! 😇

userfour: who IS IT!

carlossainz55: oh i know those abs

userfive: arianna what are you doing here

usersix: we just got confirmation of carlando and lanyn in one day.

oscarpiastri: please stay in aus and never come back to england

ynpiastri: "how about no"

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbandname and 958,356

my english love affair - stream now available on all platforms!!

*tap to load comments*

userone: they broke the internet with this one

usertwo: THE WAY SHE ANNOUNCING THAT THEY FUCKED HELP

nicolepiastri: thank you for letting me know you had a boyfriend through social media daughter

ynpiastri: no worries mumma

landonorris: i apologise mrs piastri

userthree: her and oscar are polar opposites and i love it

userfour: oh i know they be having the best *** of their life.

landonorris: hot 😩

oscarpiastri: someone hand me a gun

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

I really loved your scenario of The Justice League AND The Ill reader,Lmao, poor reader they only need a rest.

Anyway, ever since I read the first part I was thinking about the kids, you know, the League Sidekicks, obviously The Reader knows them, due to work (I can really imagine Batman introducing His kids to the Reader to force a bond , And obviously The rest of The League does the same) So I had the headcanon that the reader really likes the children, they talk to them after missions, sometimes they buy them some gifts for their birthdays, they listen to them when they complain about their father figures (Therapist Reader), etc. But at the same time I can imagine The Reader being totally uncomfortable with his parents, so I can't help but think of a scenario in which The Reader is talking to the League kids in a good mood, but the League members walk in. to the room (They obviously saw the Happy Reader, so they want to gain some advantage) And The Reader just turns off, goes into business mode and is curt as always with the league, and when he finishes talking to the league, he goes back to talking to the children and their mood is happy again. Man I would love to see the league's reaction to the obvious reader favoritism

PD:I really love your work, you are amazing

Pd2:If The kids are yandere, ITS UP to you

A Week in Life: Take Your Kid to Work Day

Synopsis: A week in your life where you get a lot of new little friends, even if you know something’s sketchy about it.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Yanderes! Robin (Dick), Superboy (Konner), Miss Martian, Kid Flash (Wally) and Aqualad (Kaldur'ahm)

Tw: A single implication about Hal’s past dub/non con incidente (blink and you miss it); Implied emotional manipulation, I guess? Justice League using kids as a manipulation tactic; A little angst, I think we all hate how Superman treated Conner, so I added that, so technically not a healthy relationship between them here, could be interpreted as Superman manipulating him or Superboy trying too hard to make his bio-dad like him; The kid’s ages are definitely not accurate canon wise, but what is canon anyway? I mixed their personalities and origins from Young Justice (along with their age gap) and for Superboy it was mainly the animated movie Reign of the Supermen; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 3,3k

Requested? More than once.

Extra notes: Dick is 10, Kaldur'ahm, Conner, Megan and Wally are 13. I wish I knew more about the Wonder Girls to write about one of them, I felt bad for not adding them, but I would’ve felt worse writing for a character I have no idea how to write.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

— I wasn't aware that there was a Take Your Kid to Work Day on schedule... — You said in a surprised, maybe taken aback, tone, if not a little strangled and sarcastic, even if a little happy. You rubbed your forehead, you knew your hunch was right…

Monday…

You’ve heard the rumors Gotham media was spreading for months now, you even asked Batman if you should prepare the marketing team in case of an emergency, he denied everything.

So why was it that now you were staring at a 10 year old dressed as a traffic light?

— Miss/Mister/Mx (Y/N)... I’m hungry… — Worst of all? The kid was cute.

You smile in a friendly manner.

— Okay, okay. Just give me a second, buddy, I need to talk to your… Dad…?! — You just now realized you didn't know their actual relationship. Batman only told you his name was Robin, that he was his partner, and that he was in the watchtower to observe. You didn't know superheroes accepted 10 year old interns, but whatever. The kid just stared blankly at you, not giving an actual answer to if you got your assumption right.

— Can I go with you? — Robin fiddled with his fingers. So cute. You nodded with a small smile. The kid jumped off his too big chair and ran towards you, surprising you by taking your hand. He had small hands. So cute.

You walked slowly, to accommodate to his height, in the direction of the door to the briefing room, where Batman was talking to John Stewart. This other Green Lantern was a breath of fresh air. The other one (the one who shouldn't be named) was away, working on another district of the universe since that whole… Less-than-consensual situation. You were happy and surprised when the League didn't just brush it off, and even compensated you for it, alongside making him go away. He either agreed to that, or caused the 3rd World War against the Justice League. It was a temporary predicament, but happier nonetheless, since John wasn't obsessed with you, unlike the rest of them, and easy to work with.

You cleared your throat so they would turn to you.

— Does Robin have any restrictions? He said he's hungry so I'm gonna take him to the kitchen. — You said politely. Batman shook his head.

— Just don't give him sugar. He needs to sleep before patrol tonight. — You raised your eyebrows in surprise and nodded your head. Batman looked at the boy. — Behave, chum. — You blinked, Robin nodded solemnly.

As you walked in the direction of the kitchen, the kid showed to be very happy and talkative. You were surprised, considering who his dad was, but it warmed your heart. At least it seemed he wasn't mistreated.

At some point, he let your hand go and started cartwheeling and doing acrobatics all the way there to show off his abilities to you. You gasped and clapped, praising his talent along with other workers from the crew who were passing the hall. You were slightly worried that he would fall and get hurt, but the kid was really confident in what he was doing (but they always are, until they fall).

When you got there, you were impressed that he wasn't even the slightest out of breath.

— Do you have games on your phone? — He asked, sitting down on a table while you rummaged the fridge for some sandwiches or any healthy snack, since you didn't know how his home diet was, but guessing by his build, which was a lot more athletic than kids his age are, he was probably pretty healthy. Son of the Bat.

— Hmm, I have Dress to Impress, Pou and Candy Crush.

— What is Pou? — Your heart panged and you sighed, feeling old.

— When were you born? 2010? — You walked towards him and settled a plate with a sandwich in front of him, before pouring a cup of juice.

— 2014. — Your mouth dropped, speechless. — Wait, so not even Stardew Valley? — You cleared your throat and shook your head, sitting beside him, while he started eating.

— Wait, can I even let you play? Does Batman let you have screen time? — He nodded.

— I have a phone. I just couldn't bring it with me today… He said he would show me around the tower, but he got busy with work… — He deflated a little at the end of the sentence, your heart broke. — Anyway… He told me I could distract myself. I just need your permission. — You bite your lip.

— Okay. How about we go to the recreational room and you can play some videogames while I work from the computer. — Robin nodded eagerly.

— Damn, you can't even play with me? Working sucks. That must be why adults are so boring. — You took a napkin and cleaned some food from his cheek.

— It's not that bad… You can do whatever you want. — He perked up.

— I guess so… — He looked you up and down. You prepared yourself for one of those moments where kids are so blunt that they don't know they could offend someone. — But you're not boring, (Y/N), you're cool. Must be why daddy likes you so much. And he doesn't like no one.

Tuesday…

Wow, what a weird coincidence. Just yesterday Batman brought his kid, and now Martian Manhunter brought his niece.

Miss Martian looked older than Robin, but again, she was a martian, her appearance was shifted to whatever she wanted to look like. All you knew was that she was young and new on Earth.

Right now, she looked very human. She had freckles and auburn hair. The only thing that made her stand out was the green of her skin.

When she presented herself to you, you got startled by her voice in your head, but you and Martian Manhunter softly explained to her that on Earth people didn't communicate through their minds, and it was kinda like an invasion of privacy. Kinda funny hearing him say that, but whatever.

Like Batman the day prior, Martian trusted the girl in your hands. So many coincidences, right?!

— So, honey, how old are you?

— Oh, on my home planet I should be about 39. But converting to Earth years, I’m 13. — She said with a shy but friendly smile, you smiled back.

— You’re pretty young then. How are you settling on Earth? Planning to go to school maybe? — She nodded.

— I just started the school year… I wasn't too sure about that, but my uncle said it would be good to learn human behaviors. — You nodded.

— American school is nice, I recommend you should take part in clubs. And don't feel pressured to make a billion friends. It's better to have one good friend, instead of 10 people you know but can't rely on. — She nodded, biting her lip.

— I already know some of the other sidekicks, I just don't have any civilian friends… I was thinking about joining the cheerleading team. — You gasped, excited.

— Oh, that's really good! I always wanted to join, but was never the sporty type. You’re sweet, I think that already gives you some points. — Her green cheeks got darker.

— You think so?! — Her voice got louder with excitement.

— Of course! Now let me give you some tips about the jocks, honey…

Wednesday…

Today, Flash brought Kid Flash. You haven't met him until now. The sequence of days the older heroes brought in their sidekicks was starting to look weird… But not that weird. Batman said he would give Robin a tour but became unavailable. Manhunter wanted Miss Martian to meet civilian people and have a good role model — you don't know why he decided that that role model should be you, but it made sense, so… —. Flash Said they would spend the day using the lab to experiment some more on Kid Flash’s still recently acquired powers. So. Coincidences, right?

The boy was 13 too, he had messy red hair and green eyes. Flash didn't specify their relationship, but their personalities definitely matched a little. Both a little hyperiperactive and smiley. Although that could be more of a speedster thing, especially the first part.

Like promised, they spent half that day on the lab, occasionally calling you for snack breaks. However, at some point, Flash gave an excuse and left you with the kid.

Huh.

— Sooo, what do you do around here? — Kid Flash asked, spinning around in a chair he found somewhere and rolled to the middle of your office in the blink of an eye. You half-smiled. It was nice not being crowded by those weirdos and being around fresh and youthful people, but it was starting to feel weird.

— I plan schedule appointments, organize team meetings, prepare agendas and itineraries, book meals and travel arrangements, handle record keeping and documentation, and make sure a project stays on budget. — The ginger blinked and stopped spinning.

— Uhh, you went to college for that? — You blinked.

— I did, why? — He chuckled slightly.

— Nothing, it's cool, sounds boring, though. — You nodded.

— What do you want to work with? — He looked to the side, thoughtful for a moment.

— I think I want to be a scientist.

— Oh really?

— Yeah, I like physics, mechanics and a little bit of chemistry. — You smirked.

— Chemistry? Sounds boring. — Kidflash froze for a second, wide-eyed, then relaxed and started laughing loudly. His chuckling prompted you to chuckle alongside him.

He used his feet to push the chair around your table and stopped at your side.

— Hey, can I see how much people get paid here? If I'm gonna be a member of the League one day, might as well optimize time and just work here. — You slapped his hands away when he reached for your computer, he pouted.

— Wouldn't that make it difficult to keep your secret identity hidden?! — Kid Flash stretched his arm, then draped it across your shoulders, you lifted an eyebrow.

— Babe. I'm a superhero. I could change clothes really fast right now and you wouldn't even notice. — You scoffed and lightly pushed him and his chair away.

— A phone booth would be more appropriate for that.

— What's a phone booth?

Thursday…

Superman brought Superboy.

Why the fuck are they doing that, bro?

You didn't even know they were close! Sure, Superboy is Superman and Lex Luthor’s clone, the whole world knew that, and that Superboy took to Superman's side. But they were never seen together, unlike Flash and Kid Flash, or Batman and Robin, for example.

Worst of all? It looked like the mood between them was… Weary. Especially on Superman’s part. Did he not trust Superboy? You could understand that… But look at his puppy sad face!

And not even five minutes later, Superman just flew away, saying something about a hurricane in Texas, AND SUPERBOY STAYED!

The silence was awkward for a few seconds. You thought back to the personality he showed when he was first announced by LexCorp, when Superman was considered dead. He was all over the media (Lex’s marketing team was good) with his charisma and flirty personality. Although he kept the leather jacket, his quietness surprised you.

You cleared your throat.

Superman brought Superboy.

Why the fuck are they doing that, bro?

You didn't even know they were close! Sure, Superboy is Superman and Lex Luthor’s clone, the whole world knew that, and that Superboy took to Superman's side. But they were never seen together, unlike Flash and Kid Flash, or Batman and Robin, for example.

Worst of all? It looked like the mood between them was… Weary. Especially on Superman’s part. Did he not trust Superboy? You could understand that… But look at his puppy sad face!

And not even five minutes later, Superman just flew away, saying something about a hurricane in Texas, AND SUPERBOY STAYED!

The silence was awkward for a few seconds. You thought back to the personality he showed when he was first announced by LexCorp, when Superman was considered dead. He was all over the media (Lex’s marketing team was good) with his charisma and flirty personality. Although he kept the leather jacket, his quietness surprised you.

You cleared your throat.

— So… Are you hungry? Wanna play videogames? — You grimaced slightly. He looked at you again, a little hesitant.

— Uh… I think so? — He blinked. — You guys have videogames here?! — He exclaimed, surprised. You chuckled.

— Oh yeah, for such a serious and stern guy, Batman really invested in the work environment. — You chuckled together, walking towards the recreational area.

You were curious about the earlier weird vibe, but didn't want to prod.

At first, you just let the boy play by himself, just sitting beside him and working while talking, that was until he paused the game between missions and stretched, then looked at you.

— Are you guys involved? — You looked at him with your eyebrows raised.

— You guys…? — He pursed his lips.

— You and Superman. — You grimaced slightly.

— Oh no, he's my boss, and not my type at all. — He nodded, looking pensive.

— He likes you. — You kept a blank expression, waiting for him to continue. — I like you too, so I can imagine why he likes you. — You stared at him, exasperated. He widened his eyes. — Not like that! — He raised his hands to deny. — It's just- I feel comfortable with you. I felt comfortable with some of his friends before, I didn't even know why, but I think it's because half of me is from him. Like I have some things from Lex since I was… Born… — He looked to the ground for a second, pouting lightly. — That's why Superman doesn't like me. — You widened your eyes.

— I'm sure he likes you! — Superboy looked at you like he didn't believe you.

— No, it's okay… He's polite, I guess. And took me in as his family, just not… As his son… More like a brother, or… A cousin… I mean, I can understand, I'm basically a hate baby, created by his biggest enemy to outdo and destroy him… — You shook your head.

You didn't know what to say, since you didn't know how their dynamic was like.

— H-He brought you here to spend time with you, didn't he? He just had an emergency to take care of… — He looked to the ground and then at you again. He didn't have the heart to tell you that's the first time they ever “hung out”, and that his genius brain clocked hours ago that Superman's plan was to create a connection between you both by orchestrating a connection with you and him. He also didn't want to bad mouth Clark. A part of him always would have hope that Superman would want to be closer to him one day.

Superboy looked at the clock and then at you.

— Don't you have a break? I can hear your stomach, I'm hungry too.

Friday…

This madness has to stop now.

— Nice to meet you, Aqualad. — You nodded at the boy with a small smile. You were a little mesmerized by his exotic appearance. He had brown skin, blonde hair in braids (where are his roots?) and blue eyes. His arms were also covered in tattoos that you knew had something to do with his abilities.

— I was showing him around the Watchtower, but now I have a meeting with Wonder Woman, why don't you two hang out for a while? — Aquaman, always the most obnoxious one. Their intentions were 100% clear now.

Aquaman didn't let you say anything else and left the room with said hero. You heard her murmur something about having to find her own apprentice to bring to the watchtower as soon as possible.

You looked at the boy, not knowing what to say.

— Have you ever been to Atlantis? — He surprised you by speaking first, his tone was gentle, if not a little monotonous, but he looked at you with interest.

— Uhhh, no? I’m not that good of a swimmer and I can't breathe underwater. — Aqualad smirked lightly.

— You wouldn't need to worry about breathing, there are multiple ways for humans to do that, from magic to technology. As for swimming… I'm sure we can find some sort of solution for that, also. And I doubt my king would be opposed to the idea of teaching you. — You nodded slowly. So much for subtly.

— … My vitamin D is low enough as it is, I’d rather stay on land, no offense. — The atlantean opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. — Aqualad! Do you like the food here? I've always been curious about your culture’s cuisine…

You kept talking for hours, eventually, Aqualad and you ended up in the training room, he offered to show you a little of his control over water bodies, and you, still a little fascinated over the convivence with superheroes, and this being the second time you met someone from Atlantis, accepted eagerly.

— This is just like H2O… — Kauldur’ahm blinked.

— It is water… — The boy confirmed, hesitantly. You laughed.

— No, no, not water. It's a TV show, it's about mermaids. I guess it isn't exactly accurate, but they can control water, just like you! — He nodded, slowly, contemplating. You looked at your watch, noticing your lunch time was due. You looked at him, shyly. — If you're up for it, we could watch it now… — That seemed to make him perk up a little and he nodded quickly.

— I would like to.

Monday…

— I wasn't aware that there was a Take Your Kid to Work Day on schedule... — You said in a surprised, maybe taken aback, tone, if not a little strangled and sarcastic, even if a little happy. You rubbed your forehead, you knew your hunch was right…

There they were, in the meeting room, all seated around the big roundtable, almost double the number of people who usually sit there.

Now, the food order they made, made sense.

You pushed the food cart forward, one for Flash. You came back and pushed another one, this one for Kid Flash, you ruffled his hair. Then, you walked back and pushed the 3rd food cart around the table, delivering each meal for each hero.

— Steak for Green Lantern. One black coffee for Batman. One meat sandwich and chocolate milk for Robin. — You squeezed his cheek. He smiled brightly at you. — Toast for Martian Manhunter and a slice of strawberry cake for Missy Miss Martian. — As you put the plate in front of her, you whispered that you wanted to know how the cheerleading team was going. She nodded happily. — A burger with fries for Aquaman, a smoothie and salad for Aqualad. Oh, did you change your hair? I like it! — You smiled brightly at the boy and his cheeks burned, he nodded. — Ice cream for Wonder Woman. Another burger and fries for Superman and another for Superboy. I see you followed my advice, your style really matches with those piercings. Tell me how you did it later. — You laughed carelessly and went to the door. — Need me for something more? — Your bosses shook their heads, stunned. You left and closed the door.

— Can't believe you guys actually did it… — John shook his head, disappointed at his teammates.

— I knew it would work. — Batman said, sipping from his drink.

— That's why we stole your idea when we knew about it. — Aquaman chuckled.

— I really need to find a sidekick. — Diana huffed.

Batman turned to Robin.

— You did a good job, chum. — Dick chuckled.

— Yeah, I even asked for a sandwich without the crust. Now (Y/N) think I'm the cutest here. — He smirked smugly. Wally scoffed.

— Yeah, right. She totally doesn't think you're an annoying kid. — The duo stared at each other. — I, for example, made them laugh. — The redhead puffed his chest proudly.

— Are you sure it wasn’t a pity laugh?! — Superboy snorted at Robin’s retort.

— Although Robin might be physically more adorable, and Kid Flash, in his words, made them laugh. (Y/N) and I started a TV show together, my king. — Aquaman nodded at his apprentice’s words.

— You did a good job.

— But (Y/N) actually said they wanted to talk to me later! That usually oficializes human’s friendships! — Megan said, softly.

— They said the same to me, the other day. That I could talk to them whenever I wanted… — Superman looked at Superboy, surprised. He felt awkward praising him, so he just nodded his head and looked away. Superboy pouted slightly.

— Because you told them your sob story, now they think you're a loser. — Conner glared at Dick. — Their physical language showed that they loved me, B! I honestly deserve an Oscar after that performance! They're gonna be ours before you suckers know it!

As a screaming match raised inside the room, the adult heroes looked at each other, lost for words, not only had the kids gotten you roped a bazillion times faster then they could ever dream, but also you were so amazing that they were enamored with you too.

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[mariacallous]

Last year, the lead singer of The 1975, Matt Healy, managed to offend a whole lot of Gaelgoirí (Irish speakers) when he appeared to mock a fan’s name – Dervla – at a meet-and-greet.

Healy isn’t alone, though, when it comes to anglophone bafflement at Irish names. A recent study based on an analysis of Google searches revealed the words that British people have the most difficulty pronouncing. The names Aoife, Saoirse, Niamh and Siobhán occupy places in the top 10.

And it’s not exclusively a British problem: I always cringe watching US talkshows where the host quizzes their Irish guest (usually Saoirse Ronan) on the pronunciation of their and other Irish names.

I’ve heard every possible variation of my own name from non-Irish people. It’s not uncommon in Ireland; in secondary school, there were four Niamhs in my class. But I rarely come across an English person who is familiar with it, despite the proximity of our two countries.

In case you don’t know, it’s pronounced “Neev” or “Nee-av”, either is perfectly acceptable. The prefix Ní means “daughter of”. My surname is trickier, and has even tripped up a few Irish people; it can be translated as Herbert, and is pronounced “her-a-vard”.

When I was living in London, I quickly learned that saying Niamh at the counter in a coffee shop or over the phone to make a booking simply wouldn’t fly. This led to the invention of what I call my “Starbucks name”. Anything easily pronounceable with a simple spelling would do. Mia, Sophie and Rose were among my common aliases.

Speaking to others reveals a litany of similar experiences. Aoibhe Ní Shúilleabháin, a designer and teacher, spent two years at college in England having her name mispronounced and disrespected. (Her first name is pronounced “Ay-vah”.) More than one lecturer resorted to calling her “blondie”.

She tells me: “I was asked to say, ‘Three hundred and thirty three trees’” – a tongue-twister that does the rounds on TikTok – “more often than I was asked to repeat my name.” She recalls the lack of interest when she attempted to explain that Irish and English are different languages with different pronunciation rules.

Clearly, the sensitivities at play here are rooted in history: Ireland was colonised by the English and our national language was all but wiped out. A language revival began in earnest in the 19th century, but it’s never quite recovered. Ireland’s most recent census shows that about 40% of Ireland’s population can speak Irish. The English destroyed our language once before, so every little throwaway comment and scoff at our names hurts a little bit more – and ultimately becomes just tiresome. A handful of people even remark, “Oh! I didn’t know Ireland had its own language,” when I tell them about my name.

Writer Darach Ó Séaghdha is all too familiar with these difficulties. (The “rach” in Darach is pronounced like “Bach”, he says.)He hosted a podcast called Motherfoclóir, a podcast about the Irish language and culture, and whenever there were guests on with Irish names, “inevitably the episode would turn into group therapy”. There was one bad experience, he recalls, when he was told that his surname “looked like a wifi password”. But he decided to give his children Irish names, too. It’s a common trend, he says, “because parents with Irish names have been battle-hardened”.

Like the others I spoke to for this piece, writer and director Rioghnach (think “Ree-nock”)Ní Ghrioghair believes that a sense of superiority among English speakers is to blame for the constant mistreatment of Irish names. But she’s defiant. “We are going to scrutinise the British for any transgression regarding the pronunciation of our names,” and other things, she tells me, like British media claiming Irish actors as their own during awards seasons.

There is no easy crash-course I can give to you on the pronunciation of Irish names, but you can always try out “how to pronounce”-style websites (which themselves can be contested). But the simplest and most reliable solution is perhaps just to politely ask an Irish person – and listen attentively to what they say. I may have accepted that English people are very rarely going to get my name right on the first go, but I appreciate a well-intentioned effort. Just don’t laugh at it, please.

[hyunjinners]

✧:･ﾟ Stray Kids react → you declaring yourself to them ˚₊· ꒰🌿꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊ members' reaction when you declare yourself to them.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊ot8¡ x non/idol!fem¡reader

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊cute, comfort, friends to lovers.

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊none, just cute stray kids stuff.

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊4,1k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊I'm really addicted to writing skz compilations ;) In some parts the reader is not an idol, I ended up getting excited and forgot about the plot haha remembering that English is not my first language! I apologize in advance if there are any spelling and/or grammatical errors. Enjoy reading - feedback is appreciated. ^-^

⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist❜ɞ

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ You became trainees at the same time and that's when you met and got closer.

・✦ He would sneak food in for you, given the strict diet the company forced you to follow, and you couldn't be more grateful to him.

・✦ the care and zeal he has for you captivated you and strengthened your relationship even after both of your debuts.

・✦ You debuted solo and he couldn't be more proud, always supporting you even when he was busy with the group's busy schedule.

・✦ Some time after your great success as a solo artist, some acquaintances from high school attacked you on social media, creating a situation claiming that you were bullying some of them.

・✦ You got really upset with all the hate and false claims and it all got worse when the company forced you to go on hiatus.

・✦ Chan, being the cutest and most understanding person you knew, was by your side comforting you and whispering comforting words in your ear while wrapping you in a hug.

・✦ Perhaps because of the heat of the moment or adrenaline, you unconsciously let out the three most comforting and perhaps feared words for many people.

・✦ He was in shock for a few seconds and his breathing hitched when he felt the caress he was giving his head stop.

・✦ He pushed you away and looked into your eyes to see if he had heard correctly, still in disbelief about the words he had previously said and even more shocked about his future ones.

・✦ "I have always loved you. I can't hide my feelings that I have felt for so long. You have always been by my side and I never had the opportunity to be clear with you, so… thank you. For supporting me and for everything you've done for me in general."

・✦ After his sincerity it was her turn to be shocked when she felt his soft lips join hers.

・✦ he loved you too.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 ... 𖥔

・✦ You are childhood best friends where you have established an intimate and somewhat fun relationship. You have always teased each other a little but clearly with affection - even if it doesn't seem like it.

・✦ You debuted a year after him, following him closely and both supporting each other in moments of so much pressure.

・✦ It all happened when you were backstage at the first Stray Kids awards. You were in the front row to see up close the achievement of the boys who were still so young and evolving so quickly.

・✦ When it was all over, you didn't even wait for him to move away from the boys to jump into his arms. He held you, a sweet laugh escaping his lips at the feeling of ecstasy and happiness.

・✦ you hugged him tightly and pulled away, looking at him with a sincere smile and a loving sparkle in your eyes, your heart almost jumping out of your chest with pride.

・✦ "I'm so proud of you I could kiss you!" He looked at you in shock, a playful smile on his lips. "What did you say?" "Minho, just-" he came dangerously close and whispered close to her face, his warm breath making her stomach feel strange. "You can."

・✦ Adrenaline took over you and before you knew it you were kissing your childhood best friend deeply and passionately.

・✦ You didn't know what your relationship would be like from now on, but you were sure it was worth a try.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ You met through your parents who had a professional partnership that sparked a friendship, consequently causing Changbin and you to get together.

・✦ You are two years younger than him, so when you both decided to become idols together, he ended up entering first - at your parents' request.

・✦ You were from different companies, but that didn't divide you, in fact it helped to avoid future possible rumors.

・✦ you would constantly visit each other in the dorms for movie nights or go out really late, going to the nearest convenience store to try different flavors of ramen while telling each other about their day.

・✦ you constantly helped each other with health issues, always asking each other about food and if they were keeping up with an exercise routine, where he convinced her to train with him and he wouldn't accept any other answer than yes.

・✦ But the time you enjoyed spending together the most was during your free time, when you could visit your parents together.

・✦ On one of those occasions, you were responsible for taking care of your younger sister while your parents were away and he accepted the task along with you.

・✦ She is small but very energetic, so it was a somewhat complicated task. Changbin had a way with kids, so he had some super cute moments with her, making you wonder if your sister liked you or him more.

・✦ You were cutting fruit on the kitchen counter while watching Changbin play with the girl.

・✦ Smiling, you take the bowls of fruit into the living room as you sit down next to them. You let out a laugh when you see your sister snort at having to move away from Changbin to eat.

・✦ "You have a way with kids. I think you'll be a good father." You whisper softly next to Changbin, who almost choked on the comment. He looks at you perplexed with an unconscious smile on his face.

・✦ "do you think? I mean, I really like kids, so…" He looks dreamily at his sister and you can't ignore the butterflies in your stomach that insist on appearing whenever you're around him.

・✦ "I'm sure your future wife will be very lucky. You are handsome, affectionate, intelligent, funny... I bet she'll love it so much." You laugh, biting into your fruit, not realizing the effect you had on Changbin.

・✦ "What- what did you say?" You're both silent for a while as you ponder your response. Sighing, you slowly observe his reaction, "Honestly?... I would like to be that future wife. I like you, Changbin. I don't think I was lying when I said I would love you very much." He coughs, choking on a piece of apple. You despair, helping him to choke. With wide eyes in surprise, he holds your shoulders and looks you straight in the eyes.

・✦ "You're kidding, aren't you?"

・✦ "... No, I'm not, Changbin. I really like you." He leaned over and wrapped her in a hug, his sister just staring blankly.

・✦ He also dreams of having children with you.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ you meet when you bump into each other at a cafe near his company.

・✦ He had just debuted as an idol, so he wasn't that well-known on the street yet, but you recognized him.

・✦ You were the first person who recognized him and he was very happy that the first fan who recognized him was a girl as beautiful as you.

・✦ It turned out that you often showed up at this cafe to study to get into college and he ended up becoming friends with you.

・✦ he felt like you were an angel sent by destiny to be his lifeline, supporting him in everything he did and always giving the best advice for his own good, as well as being present in both the happiest and most difficult moments of his life.

・✦ he didn't know how to express his enormous gratitude, so he just reciprocated the actions by being with you in the time of pressure before and during college, celebrating your entry with you and always taking you out to distract your mind whenever he could.

・✦ and things changed between you during one of these walks. There was a flower festival that happened once a year that you were extremely excited to go to. You planned the trip for weeks and he couldn't say no.

・✦ The festival went on from afternoon to night, so you were able to watch the sunset together amidst the lilies he insisted on giving you as a gift.

・✦ you rested your head on his shoulder as you sat on a wooden bench in a place that allowed a beautiful view of the horizon.

・✦ "I wish time would stop right here, I wish I could stay with you like this forever." Hyunjin felt his ears heat up, petting his hair in response. "Me too. It was an amazing day, yes."

・✦ you stared at him deeply and he looked back, trying to read your expression. Immersed in desire and passion, you hold the back of his neck, leaning in for a soft kiss, your lips barely touching as you touch him.

・✦ perplexed, he widened his eyes, still a little scared, but returning the kiss in a more intense way, his hands unconsciously going towards her waist.

・✦ pulling away with your lips parted from the lack of air, you rest your forehead against his, a happy laugh leaving your lips.

・✦ "I'm glad you didn't push me" Still a little disoriented, Hyunjin laughs at your silly comment, longing for more of your lips on his.

・✦ "never." He leans in again, captivating her lips affectionately.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 ... 𖥔

・✦ the way they met was actually a bit chaotic. You were running through the company's corridors, late again for another rehearsal, when you bumped into Jisung, spilling the coffee he had in his hands all over herself.

・✦ He became desperate, apologizing as if it was all his fault for not looking forward. In the midst of despair, you could only laugh and without understanding anything he accompanied you laughing, even though he had a desperate look on his face, thinking you wanted to kill him.

・✦ The following week he came to you with a new sweatshirt in hand and you were enchanted by how sweet and thoughtful he was. In return, you bought the coffee that spilled from his hands with a cute note apologizing and thanking him for the sweatshirt.

・✦ After that, your friendship began with the ritual of buying each other coffee with a cute note asking about their day or a motivational phrase.

・✦ During a Stray Kids performance, you were in the front row happily cheering for the group's next achievement. When the performance was over, you gave them a standing ovation and didn't miss the wink Jisung threw your way, making you smile.

・✦ Three days later you were surprised when the media linked Jisung to you, making thousands of theories about both of you being together. You were heavily criticized and received a lot of hate from people who claimed to be "stays", causing you to step away for a short period of time.

・✦ a week later, Jisung was in front of your apartment and when you realized it you were already crying in his arms on the couch in your apartment.

・✦ he kisses the top of your head, speaking comforting words into your ear. You sighed tiredly, stood up and wiped your tears, staring at him for a few seconds before speaking.

・✦ "... I just don't understand." Her voice was almost a whisper and he listened intently to every word that came out of her mouth. "Would it be so bad if we were dating? What have I done to these people?" You bring your hands to your eyes, sobbing once more. He wraps his arms around her again, resting his chin on her head.

・✦ "They don't understand. And don't worry, it's not like we have anything to hide."

・✦ "what if we did?" You whispered, your words hanging in the air as he made a confused face. "What do you mean?"

・✦ "Would it be so bad if we were in a relationship? What if I wanted that?" You gather your courage and face him defiantly.

・✦ "... what-"

・✦ "I like you, Jisung. I don't care what anyone says, what bothers me is that you're so oblivious to it. I want you. I need you."

・✦ He looks at her scared, immersed in his thoughts. It doesn’t last long until he smiles and leans in to kiss you deeply, wanting this for so long his bones could ache.

・✦ He didn't see a problem with that either.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 ... 𖥔

・✦ You were the first person to greet him at school when he moved to Korea.

・✦ He was in a confusing phase for himself, still discovering his passions and talents and you were the only one who understood him and waited for him in his time, always being by his side in difficulties.

・✦ People compared you to a ray of sunshine, but for him, you were the light that provided a way out in his darkest moments.

・✦ As time went by, he debuted as an idol and you followed the career you wanted, becoming an interior designer specializing in landscaping.

・✦ You loved everything related to nature and he was no different, loving to travel to places with the best views, always remembering you in the most memorable memories for him.

・✦ During the boys' comeback, Felix was working hard day and night, always bringing out the best in his performances and never letting anything down.

・✦ one of his shows was cancelled due to problems at the venue where they were going to perform and after weeks of tiredness he would finally have at least one day off.

・✦ Taking advantage of the opportunity, you invited him to go to the beach, since you both loved it and hadn't gone out for a long time due to your busy schedule.

・✦ the ride was fun from start to finish and you were hyperventilating over little things like you sharing headphones during the car ride or how he was concerned about whether you were staying hydrated and wearing sunscreen.

・✦ After a whole day of playing in the water, you sat side by side to watch the sunset. Your shoulders were touching and you didn't miss the way your hands were so close, yet still untouchable.

・✦ you watched as the bright orange hue reflected off the blond strands of Felix's hair, looking peaceful as if the breeze took away all his worries and tensions.

・✦ "You're beautiful." His voice came out as a whisper and you knew you couldn't stop talking from now on, "I feel more relaxed when I'm with you. I don't think I need to come to the beach all the time if I already have my daily ray of sunshine."

・✦ Felix looks at her with a genuine smile and you could see the affection through his irises. "Thank you for bringing me here, Y/n. Thank you for everything really." With a smile you slowly lean in and Felix could only close his eyes. Gently your lips connected and you could still feel the mixture of your sweet lips with the salty sea water. He still a little hesitantly holds her waist, bringing her almost impossibly closer.

・✦ moving away but still close to his face, you spoke softly, like a secret now revealed, "I love you. I always have. I'm in love with you and I'm sure it's because you're the easiest person to love."

・✦ Surprised and excited, Felix places a kiss on her cheek and then rests his head on her shoulder.

・✦ "It would be impossible for me not to reciprocate the feelings."

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ the way they met was too cute and Seungmin would never confess - even if you commented on it.

・✦ Even in his pre-debut, Seungmin has always been the schematic and methodical type. He had a routine of going to the gym three times a week at a specific time and, coincidentally, he passed by the same square where you used to sit to read a book.

・✦ At first he just ignored you there, but after strangely noticing your long hair, or the cute way you wrinkled your nose when you read something that caught his attention, or when he randomly closed the book to "absorb" what was written there, he thought that maybe it would be interesting to know more about you.

・✦ He was never the intellectual reading type, but he thought that to impress a female reader, it would be good to have a little literary knowledge. When buying a book in a bookstore near the square, he discovered that his parents owned the establishment, and he was overcome with excitement.

・✦ He started to constantly visit the place to see you and in the end it was you who started talking to him and that's where your friendship began.

・✦ Even after his debut you remained firm and strong by his side, even though he couldn't often attend your little reading sessions where you read in silence just enjoying each other's company.

・✦ Over time, Stray Kids became increasingly popular, not only in Korea, but in many places around the world. That said, the group's first world tour was approaching and everyone was nervous. Seungmin became more and more distant as the week progressed as it was time to prepare for his world debut.

・✦ the day before the trip, you showed up at the door of his and the boys' dorm, sending a message as soon as you got there. He replied a few minutes later, saying he would be late at the company.

・✦ You were very frustrated because you didn't know if you would be able to say goodbye to him, since six months away without being able to see Seungmin was a long time for both of you. You leave the book you were going to give Seungmin as a gift at the dorm door, leaving immediately.

・✦ a little after midnight, you hear your phone vibrate on the nightstand, seungmin’s name flashing on the screen. You answer, completely concerned as to why he's calling so late.

・✦ He asks you to answer the door and without further contradiction you practically run to open the door.

・✦ Still sleepy, you almost fall with the impact of the hug that Seungmin gives you. He wraps his arms around you in an almost desperate way, wishing he couldn't let go of you anymore.

・✦ “Is it true? Did you really mean that?”

・✦ completely confused, your mind seems to want to play a trick on you, making you forget the moment that happened earlier, where you left the book with a dedication to Seungmin inside.

・✦ he breaks the hug, showing the book that had been in his hands all this time. 'Welcome to Hyunam-dong Bookstore' was no longer in its original gift packaging, a yellow post-it was stuck to the inside of the cover, which said: “I hope you enjoy this reading as much as I enjoyed the moments I had with you. I love you, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy you.”

・✦ your eyes widened in utter surprise. You thought you might not be able to say goodbye to him in person, So he wrote this note in the heat of the moment, almost afraid that this trip might separate you two.

・✦ “Minnie… I’m sorry. This may sound wrong, but… I really like you. Ever since I met you… s-since forever, I think…”

・✦ His words are a bit disjointed and low, but the only reaction Seungmin had was to gently hold his face and do what he had always wanted since that day in the square: kiss her without guilt or resentment.

❪ ε ї з ❫

ᥫ᭡ ˖ 𖥔 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍 ... 𖥔

・✦ JYP was not an unfamiliar environment for you. Your older sister, a third-generation K-pop idol, often invited you to watch her train.

・✦ The JYP halls were a familiar environment for you and this gave you the opportunity to meet many famous people. And Jeongin was one of them.

・✦ At first, you would just exchange a few nods or a quick “good morning.” However, one day when you had to wait patiently for your sister in the cafeteria area, Jeongin saw you sitting alone.

・✦ He was surprised at himself, since he had promised himself not to make friends during his trainee days, due to the fact that people came and went easily. But you had a different aura to him.

・✦ time passed, he debuted and you stayed with him. Jeongin didn't regret talking to you that day, because from then on you were the one who supported him through the most difficult moments during the beginning of his career.

・✦ You saw Jeongin as an escape from all the problems of your day to day life. No matter the situation, just seeing his face, with that cute dimpled smile, the tension in your body would go away.

・✦ Spending time with him was comfortable and became incredibly familiar. You became an important part of Jeongin's life, and vice versa. The boys were happy to know that there was someone to brighten their youngest member's darkest days.

・✦ After a few years of friendship, the Stray Kids dorm had become an almost routine environment for you. One Friday, Jeongin invited you to join the boys' movie night.

・✦ You quickly got ready, stopping by the convenience store before walking to the dorms since it wasn't that far from your house.

・✦ you felt your cell phone vibrate as you walked down the sidewalk with some very full bags in your hand. You tried to get the cell phone out of your pocket, However, because of the piled up bags, he ended up falling on the sidewalk.

・✦ Without thinking twice, you quickly bent down to pick it up, not noticing the electric bike that was quickly coming towards you. It all happened so fast that you could say it was like a quick dream (or nightmare), like the kind you have when you take a short nap.

・✦ you were thrown away and the bike ended up running over your ankle, dislocating it. You ended up passing out from the pain on your way to the hospital, in the ambulance that the cyclist called to help you.

・✦ You woke up a few hours later, the light reflecting off the white walls of the hospital room hitting your eyes hard, making you squint.

・✦ you felt soft threads near your hand, and as soon as you regained some consciousness, you realized that Jeongin was lying next to you in a completely uncomfortable position. It didn't take him long to wake up, looking a little desperate as he did so.

・✦ “thank god! I- I thought… Y/n…”

・✦ Jeongin's eyes filled with tears and the words were a little stuck in his throat. “If I hadn't called you at that time, none of this would have happened... a man ended up answering his phone and told me what had happened. Forgive me, S/n.”

・✦ his words were still a little distorted because of the effect of the drug, where you were barely assimilating what was happening.

・✦ With a smile, you wipe Jeongin's tears gently. “I was so scared… scared of losing you. It could have happened because of a bike, but it could have been worse-”

・✦ “Don't do that. If you keep crying because of me, it'll make me fall in love with you even more.”

・✦ Jeongin was paralyzed by his slurred, barely audible words. He whispered a “what?” under his breath, his heart racing with even more disconcerting thoughts.

・✦ He stayed in the same position for a few seconds, long enough to make you fall back asleep. He kissed your forehead affectionately as he pulled away..

・✦ “I hope you remember your words when you wake up.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Languages

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Jessie Fleming x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You don't want to speak your English

In Canada, almost everyone speaks English as their first language. It's simple and easy to communicate and even those from the French-speaking provinces can speak English too.

At Chelsea, the team was from all across the world so the blend of accents and languages made it difficult to communicate sometimes.

But, Jessie's biggest challenge to date after leaving Canada, is communicating with you.

You're Magda and Pernille's little girl so you speak Swedish and Danish. You were born in Germany though so Jessie supposes you speak German too despite how little you are. Your English is practically non-existent to Jessie's ears though.

Either you can't speak it just yet or you're refusing to because the only English Jessie's heard you speak is the word 'no' when Magda tried to feed you sweetcorn at lunch a few weeks ago.

You communicate exclusively with your mothers in a different language to English despite the way Magda's pressing you to speak it.

You're sweet though, a loveable little girl with a lot of energy and a penchant for stealing footballs.

Jessie just wishes there was another way to communicate with you, especially when you wander over to her in the queue for lunch with a plate.

"Huh? What's up?"

You're look up at her with big wide eyes and smile. You say something and Jessie just stares.

"Sorry, what was that?"

You repeat the word again and present Jessie your plate.

"Oh...wow, cool plate."

Evidently, it's the wrong thing to say because you stamp your foot and repeat the word.

Jessie's still drawing a blank.

You switch what you're saying now - another word Jessie doesn't understand - and then you say something completely different again.

She still can't understand you and she can clearly see that you're getting annoyed with her.

"Er..."

"Maybe," Comes Magda's pointed voice," If you spoke your English, princesse, then Jessie will understand you."

"No!"

That's your favourite English word and Magda rolls her eyes, taking your plate.

"She wanted the chicken," Magda explains with a laugh, placing your desired meat on your plate.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Don't be. Princesse knows she should be practicing her English."

"No!" Your little voice insists and Magda looks down at you fondly, a hand coming up to stroke through your hair.

"Yes. You should be practice your English."

"No!"

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes."

"Nej!"

Magda sighs, shaking her head softly before taking you back over to your lunch table with Jessie trailing after.

Now that Jessie's looking out for it, it becomes much more obvious to her just how often you blend your languages. She's not an expert on Swedish and Danish but she can recognise German and has to smother her laughter on many occasions when requests for food or questions are done by using at least two languages.

You jump between words easily and without even batting an eye and it seems only Pernille's the one completely fluent in Princesse speak.

You're getting better though, branching out to one or two words of English every so often when it's just you and Jessie.

You're steadfast in your refusal to speak English to Magda outside of your usual one word answer of 'no'.

Currently, it's you, Jessie and Pernille in the break room.

Everyone else has either already gone home or, like Magda, stuck in meetings or doing media. Pernille and Jessie are free to go home but Jessie's coming over after training is over and Pernille and Magda share the car so you're all waiting for Magda to finish up so you can finally go.

You're sitting on the floor with Jessie, playing around with girl-swan and girl-moose. You stop playing for a moment, frowning to yourself before calling out to Momma in a jumbled mess of Swedish, Danish and Germany, pointing to the bag of toys on Jessie's other side.

"Ask Jessie, princesse," Pernille says and you huff.

You make your request again to Pernille but she gives you a look.

"Jessie's closer," She says and you pout.

Jessie braces herself for the jumbled mess of languages about to come out of your mouth and the mad scramble to guess what you want before you get annoyed.

You open your mouth.

Jessie readies herself.

"Building blocks, please Jessie," You say," In the bag."

Jessie's mouth hangs open in shock.

You frown at her, pointing this time. "Building blocks, please."

Mutely, Jessie hands them to you and you beam.

"Going to be a castle," You tell her earnestly," And we can knock it down!"

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗢𝗣𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗜𝗔

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N has suffered with an eating disorder for years, but lately, - because of the some "fans" and social media - her insecurities have been taking her to a more than dangerous path, which she couldn't get out without help.

WARNING: anorex!a, eating disorder, comparison, self sabotage, self hatred, panic attack, pure angst... PLEASE read with caution!

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Atelophobia; the fear of not being good enough.

This was one of the millions of fears and problems that haunted Y/N's mind. Her head convinced her a long time ago that she simply wasn't enough; for her school teachers, for her classmates, for her friends, for her parents, past boyfriends... not even for herself.

This led her to listen to what others said and thought about herself since she was very young, the desire to be perfect and within society's standards in all aspects of a human being consumed her; personality, thoughts, knowledge... body.

She was told all the time how she should behave, act, and be. She was just a child, but that didn't seem to matter to those who did it, clogging her up with responsibilities and comparisons.

One thing led to another. Her desperation to be the best at everything started to include her own body. "Fat" was the first word people used to describe her. She had no control over the situations around her, but she had control over her weight.

Y/N was always the biggest girl in her class, and her classmates seemed to love reminding her of that; often being excluded from work groups, forgotten in groups of friends, or not chosen in any team during Physical Education classes.

Until the year when everything changed. During the school vacation, she decided to change, intending to return to school as a new girl. The new cycle started well, Y/N saw a nutritionist, cutting out all fatty foods from her routine and consuming only healthy ones. She started going to the gym daily, doing the recommended training time. All of this led her to lose a significant amount of weight.

Soon, the vacation was over, and with that, the negative comments from her classmates were replaced by positive comments. Girls asking what she had done to lose weight like that, searching for advice and seeing her as a miracle. Boys saying how changed and prettier she looked.

How could she not fall in love with her own illness?

So, that made her feel good. Too good... her mind began to yearn to become thinner, more beautiful, just to hear more from others. And then the healthy diet and the one hour training at the gym were no longer enough for her. She needed more if she wanted to be better.

Y/N then intensified her training, staying at the gym for 2 hours per day, doing more reps with more weight. She crossed out several foods from the list of permitted that her nutritionist had made, choosing for herself the ones she thought were ideal, until it had almost nothing left.

Her brain self-sabotaged so that she wouldn't go out with her friends, because they would definitely want to eat somewhere and she wouldn't be able to.

She no longer participated in family dinners, creating excuses so as not to be forced to sit at the table and eat.

Her mind convinced her that she wasn't thin enough to satisfy her boyfriends' sexual and non-sexual desires, which made her pull away during or at the beginning of any relationship she had until the guy got tired, or she simply ended it.

She spent hours on the internet, searching for sensational diets that reduced daily calories to 500 or less, promising extraordinary weight loss. In addition to getting on the scale at least 4 times a day, hoping for a miracle every time she looked at the numbers.

Y/N replaced her eating schedules with random hobbies like drawing, learning a new instrument, or picking flowers from her garden to make flower crowns, occupying her time and mind.

Some things scared her, her period hadn't come in months, clumps of hair fell out every time she ran her hands through it. Her vision went dark at least 3 times a day. Her body shivered from the complete cold of her insides, and her stomach hurt more than usual.

But she had to suffer them alone since she had no one to talk to about, always alone.

Until Y/N met Matt.

Matt was the boy who made her want to get better. He encouraged her to look for a hospital that fit her preferences, where Y/N finally began to receive psychiatric and psychological care.

Her diet changed for the better, into foods that Y/N saw as safe. She did not abandon the gym but reduced the weight and time, maintaining her training just for the health of her muscles, as she had lost a lot of lean mass during her worst moment.

The calculator in her head finally stopped. Her eyes started seeing food as just food and not as the enemy. Her stomach craved for all the snacks she loved, and she finally ate them, without feeling guilty.

Matt was so thoughtful about her entire situation, having suffered himself with extreme anxiety from a young age. He could tell he understood in parts what it was like to live with a mental illness.

So he helped her maintain her healthy diet and eat all her daily meals within her limit - often opting to eat together in their room, since he knew the trepidation Y/N still felt about doing it in front of other people.

Matt praised her in every possible situation, trying not to be extreme but to show his intense love and support for the girl. All of that was helping her a lot.

Until it wasn't.

Y/N and Matt never hid their relationship from the public, the girl knew how famous her boyfriend was and how difficult it could be to keep their relationship hidden, they would be seen together at one time or another.

So it wasn't surprising that the girl appeared in some of the triplets' pictures sometimes, and that's what happened that Friday.

As usual, Nick posted a photo dump on the triplets Instagram to promote the publication of their new car video, and one of the photos was of Matt and Y/N, specifically one in which the two were sitting on the couch in their living room, the girl had her legs draped over Matt's thighs, while his tattooed arm wrapped tightly around her waist, huge smiles decorating their faces.

It was a cute photo, but apparently, that wasn't what fans thought.

While Matt and his brothers were in the kitchen, preparing healthy snacks - a habit they built through the girl, but which in the end helped everyone -, Y/N was lying on her bed in the room she shared with Matt, wrapped in too-warm covers, holding her phone with her right hand while her left hand wrapped around her stomach in an almost painful grip.

Her thumb scrolled through the comments screen beneath the post. Almost everyone there talking about her picture with Matt.

"Matt can do so much better than her"

"I really don't know what he saw in her"

"She's going to end up crushing him like that"

"I'll pay for the gym for her if that's the price for Matt to have a worthy girlfriend"

And so on, it was as if they knew all of Y/N's weaknesses.

Some fans of them could be cruel when they wanted to, and Y/N knew this by heart since seeing Nick crying several times because he was body shamed, or when she noticed Chris being quieter than usual after reading comments saying how loud he was and how that was unbearable.

Her heart was crushed every time she saw Matt suffer in silence until he couldn't hold it in any longer and finally cried in her lap for hours after reading people saying how insignificant and quiet he was in the videos.

Even though a huge mass of the fandom loved them with all their hearts and took care of them as much as the distance of a phone screen allowed, it still wasn't enough to swallow the hate comments.

But when it came to Y/N, more than half of the fandom turned against her. Maybe out of envy, but it was obvious that the girl didn't see it that way. She was convinced that they were right.

Her heart tightened as if someone was crushing it with their bare hands. The air seemed to escape her lungs, and the lunch she ate hours before seemed to want to go up her throat. Her fingers trembled as she held her stomach, feeling everything she had and didn't have there. Her eyes began to water, her lips quivering from the tears that wanted to escape.

Y/N quickly moved her finger to the back button, hoping to break out of the horrible cycle she was about to enter. A loud sob escaped her lips when, upon finally leaving the post, her feed reloaded, and a picture of a model that Y/N followed and admired appeared.

Comparison was her biggest enemy.

Negative thoughts about herself began to pollute her mind, everything around her becoming a fog. The sounds coming from the kitchen became muffled to her ears. Y/N's right hand - which was holding her phone - was gripping the device in such a way that her fingers turned white. Painful sobs escaped her mouth as her eyes remained fixed on the woman's perfect figure.

Why can't I be like her?

The longing for the sensations she felt when she starved hit her chest hard. The desire to want to be as thin as before - or more - filled her.

It didn't take long, and soon, the bedroom door was slowly opened, Matt's silhouette appearing behind it. His face was lit up with a smile - probably because of some joke his brothers made - while his right hand held a plate with two sandwiches.

His cheerful expression was replaced by a frown of concern. Matt quickly closed the door with his feet, walking towards the bed, haphazardly placing the plate on the nearest bedside table before sitting down on the mattress.

His hands flew to Y/N's waist, stopping over her own hand that was squeezing her skin with a force that was sure to leave it bruised.

The girl seemed to wake up from her trance, lifting her head and meeting Matt's calming - but worried - gaze. She cried harder as she imagined what her boyfriend would be thinking of her now.

Automatically, her mind started to play her current state, messy hair, swollen and red face, skin wet with tears, eyes half closed and mouth open, allowing sobs to escape from there.

"M-Matt-" Her sentence was cut off by a sob, her eyes closing tightly.

Matt took a deep breath, trying to process what to do next. His left hand - the one that didn't cover hers - slowly took the phone, taking it out of his girl's death grip. He glanced briefly at the screen, automatically understanding what was happening before locking it and putting the device aside.

He moved his body so that it was closer to hers, resting his hand on her spine and guiding her until she laid her head on his chest, caressing the area below his fingers.

Matt felt his heart break with every tremble that rocked the body beneath his caused by the sobs. If he could take that pain away from his girlfriend, he would.

"It's okay, baby, let it out. I'm right here." He cooed, his fingers caressed the tangled strands of her hair lightly, stroking the area while moving his upper body back and forth, slowly calming his girlfriend.

"Ma-Matty-" Y/N's voice was weak, wobbly from the pain in her heart.

Matt removed his hand from hers for a few seconds, stretching it to the bedside table - where the plate was -, taking the bottle of water that Y/N always filled before going to sleep. He opened the lid in one quick movement, bringing it close to his girl's face.

"Come on, my love. Sit down for a moment and take a sip of water. Please." The boy asked in a soft voice, helping Y/N straighten her posture before bringing the bottle closer to her lips, helping her take a few small sips of the contents.

He closed the bottle after making sure she was satisfied, placing it on the mattress before turning his attention to Y/N again. He brushed away the strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear.

"What if they're right?" She asked in a whisper, catching her bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to keep from crying.

"No, they aren't." Matt's tone was convincing, as if he was absolutely sure of what he was saying. "You are not worse than others because of your weight. You look great as you are. Your body is perfect, do you know why? Because he's healthy enough to carry you around and take care of you." The boy held her hands lightly, stroking the back of her fingers gently as he looked into her eyes. "The recovery journey is not easy, I remember the words your psychologist said to me when we had that session together. I imagine your head when you see clothes getting tighter, and these comments certainly make you want to give up, I know you, baby."

He paused momentarily, watching her reactions carefully.

Y/N knew that, recovery was hard work. Not wanting to die was hard work.

"Recovery is not a race. You don't have to feel guilty about taking less or more time than you originally thought or having relapses from time to time. This is part of the process, and I want you to understand this. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen in my entire life. When I look at the most beautiful things, I remember you. In the pink tulips of the flower shop across the street, in the Cassiopeia constellation, in the bees that fly in our garden and in the greenest tree I have ever seen." Y/N let out a tearful laugh when she heard him mention the tree, knowing his immense love for nature. "Because you're pretty like them."

"I-I'm sorry." The girl whispered, sniffling then lowering her gaze in shame. "I... I saw the photos that Nick posted, and there were comments..." She shook her head, closing her eyes tightly.

"Oh baby." He leaned slightly over Y/N, sealing his lips over her warm forehead. "If you want to apologize, let me do it. If you went through this now, it was because of me."

"No, Matt. It was never and will never be your fault." Y/N shook her head, wiping her eyes momentarily with the sleeve of her - his - hoodie, sniffling slightly before taking one of Matt's hands, intertwining their fingers. "You don't control people, much less through the internet. They will always talk a lot because they are behind a screen that protects them, but that will never be your fault. I would rather go through this a thousand times and have you with me than never have you again."

"I understand." He paused momentarily. "Please, don't let it get to that point again while you're alone. If you see something that upsets you or makes you feel bad, turn it off instantly and call me. I want to be there to help you. I want to be there for you." The brunette asked, staring at her eyes.

Y/N sighed, nodding her head and leaning slightly closer to him, resting her forehead on Matt's shoulder, exhaling the softening scent and perfume that exuded from the fabric of the hoddie on his body.

Her eyes burned from the tears she shed, closing them tightly to prevent more from falling, her heart still feeling sore from everything.

"If you want, we can contact that psychologist again, the one who helped you throughout the process at the hospital." Matt lowered his head, bringing his face closer to the back of Y/N's head, pressing his lips against his girl's hair, closing his eyes as he felt the warmth of her body close to his. "I want to attend some sessions just like we did last time, so I understand how I can help you this time."

Y/N felt her heart warm instantly, her free hand snaking to Matt's thigh closest to her, stroking the covered skin lightly.

"Okay."

Matt loved Y/N more than he loved himself, and he would make sure that she understood that she wasn't alone anymore.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[thewinchestah]

"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it. 

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form. 

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion. 

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old. 

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance. 

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

  Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory. 

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made.  A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you. 

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?” 

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done. 

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred. 

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least. 

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was  made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized. 

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far. 

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination. 

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table.  Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the  least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many. 

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized  you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret  made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power  lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every  overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you. 

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information. 

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia. 

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move. 

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work. 

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless. 

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now? 

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power. 

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm. 

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality. 

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely. 

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes. 

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care? 

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

 Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter. 

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face. 

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret. 

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip. 

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face. 

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest 

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects 

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something  big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it” 

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist. 

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved” 

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed.  Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands. 

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen. 

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building. 

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out. 

Mutual destruction assured. 

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?” 

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words. 

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve. 

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out. 

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

 when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too. 

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love. 

And now he is here. 

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you. 

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises. 

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you.  You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble. 

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory. 

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter. 

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

 You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst  of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks. 

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now. 

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved. 

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do” 

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.  

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words. 

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover. 

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

 The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld. 

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

 “Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt. 

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.”  his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him. 

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.  

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side. 

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you,  inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming. 

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice. 

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand. 

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness. 

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials. 

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through. 

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage. 

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it. 

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make” 

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist 

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him” 

a wrong type of static pricks your lips 

“This won’t hurt” 

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper 

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it. 

 Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain. 

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison. 

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal. 

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing. 

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him. 

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought. 

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him. 

And then he stops. 

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret” 

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast? 

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.” 

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance,  playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word. 

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him. 

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you. 

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you. 

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears. 

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

 But their machinations are all meaningless. 

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

[babybearnation]

cause i've got a soft spot (i've got it for you)

⎇paul aron x m!team boss!reader - you don't play favourites, but with paul... (smau) ⎇author's note: my first ever non-texts post and AHHH this is so nerve-wracking omd!! pls be nice to me PLS ⎇content warnings: team boss/racer relationship, hate comments, suggestive content, implied homophobia, arguing,

Paul sighs, wiping his hands on his pants for the umpteenth time. His leg bounces restlessly and he's rather glad he got here after Arthur had already gone into the room to meet Y/n otherwise he's sure he would've annoyed his future teammate before the season could even start.

Paul's about to stand up and start pacing when the door clicks and swings open, Arthur walking out first. Paul watches as Arthur and Y/n exchange farewells before standing up and smiling when Y/n beckons him into the room.

"Paul, hi. Come on in." Y/n says. Paul crosses to the room, smiling as he enters the vast area. He's vaguely aware of the many thoughts he's having about Y/n and how young he is and how insanely attractive he is, but he's pushing them all down.

Professionalism, Paul, come on!

"So, welcome to the team." Y/n says as he sits down, folding his hands atop the desk as he smiles warmly at Paul. Paul finds himself flushing lightly, warmth lighting up his body.

"It's great to be here. Thank you for giving me this opportunity." Paul says, his words feeling thick and heavy on his tongue. Thank you doesn't feel good enough, but his English is clunky and he doesn't want to make a fool out of himself.

"Your post-season test with Alpine showed fantastic potential and we have the finances to invest in more... how shall I put this?" Y/n trails off, tapping his chin before shrugging. "More risky decisions, shall we say."

"Right." Paul says, an embarrassment flushing throughout his system. Do they really think he's gonna be that bad?

"Not that that's a reflection on you or Arthur, of course. I have my confidence firmly placed in both of your hands. But, well, you know how fans and higher ups can be." Y/n says, laughing softly. Paul latches onto the sound instantly, something flickering to life in his gut.

"I totally understand what you mean. Thank you for your confidence. I hope my performance can please you, Mr. Y/l/n." Paul says, all the drilled-in media training entwining with the words that drip from his tongue.

"Please, Paul, call me Y/n. I don't want this to feel like a job to you, but rather a family." Y/n smiles again and Paul finds himself naturally smiling back, all his previous nerves and professionalism replaced with a twisted sense of desire. "Now, about this family thing. Let's go get some lunch with the rest of the staff, shall we? I'm quite famished."

Paul thinks he might like it here.

liked by arthur_leclerc, cbaceracing, and 62,880 others

paularon_ Thank you to @/cbaceracing for signing me on as one of their 2025 drivers. I hope everyone is excited to see me on the grid next year. (And thank you @/aronralf for the silly cake).

comments

user1 let's go, paul on the f1 gridddddd

cbaceracing It's gotta be a good year when you've got Paul Aron on your team, huh @/hitechgp 😉 ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ liked by paularon_ hitechgp Can't disagree with that, can we? 😉 liked by paularon_

user2 This is fucking insane, I'm so happy right now.

arthur_leclerc I look forward to racing with you next year, mate. liked by paularon_

user3 Arthur's gonna fucking run your shit into the dirt. You're awful. user1 ew, who asked you? user2 Jealousy gets you nowhere, mate 🙄

aronralf That cake was delicious, I think we can both agree. liked by paularon_ paularon_ Remind me who ate most of it again?

Y/n sighs, pacing back and forth as he drags his fingers through his hair. He probably shouldn't dishevel his appearance too much lest he come off as unprofessional or unattractive, but it's been his bad habit for years, so bad habit it shall remain.

His fingers drift down to his tie and he's just about to tug it loose and retie it when there's a knock at the door. He crosses over instantly, tugging it open with far too much excitement, smiling breathlessly when he spots Paul on the other side.

"Hello, come on in." Y/n says, stepping to one side to let Paul through. Paul greets him softly and enters the room, sitting in the chair closest to Y/n's one. Y/n's heart most resolutely does not flutter.

"What's happening? Is everything alright? You look like a mess, to be honest." Paul says. Y/n huffs out a laugh as he leans against the desk, gazing down at Paul.

"Something is plaguing me." Y/n says, wincing when a headache decides to form behind his eyelids. Why right now? When he looks at Paul again, the younger man has a troubled expression on his face.

"Is everything okay with the team?" Paul asks. Y/n wants to laugh. Paul's devotion to the team is already showing and Y/n hasn't even had to do anything to make it happen! It's adorable, it really is.

"Yes, yes, all good. It's more myself." Y/n says. The headache throbs and he reaches over the desk, snatching up his water bottle and drinking a greedy mouthful. A stray droplet trickles down his cheek and he wipes it away with a calculated finger.

"So what's wrong? Is there any way I can help? I mean... you must've called me here for a reason, right?" Paul says, as observant as ever. Y/n smiles softly at him.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me." Y/n says, puffing his chest out in triumph. He did it, he said it, now hopefully he's not going to get rejected.

"I- is that not inappropriate? Won't people claim you favour me?" Paul sputters, his cheeks a delicate pink.

"I've held feelings for you for a while. No favouring claims have come out, have they?" Y/n says. He's practically baring the very depths of his soul to Paul right now, an embarrassing hue of red surely filling his face and trickling down his neck.

"That's true..." Paul says, looking away from Y/n's gaze. Y/n smiles and leans down, capturing one of Paul's hands in his own.

"You can say no. I won't react negatively, I promise." Y/n says. Paul nods stiltedly before smiling up at him.

"I'd love to go on a date with you, Y/n."

Every single member of staff who currently fill both Paul and Arthur's garages come pouring out as Paul crosses the line to start his final lap, Arthur hot on his tail. They cram along the fences and the walls around CB Ace Racing's pitbox as Y/n smiles at the screens in front of him.

A 1-2 finish. Every team boss's dream. Every team's dream. Whilst Arthur would surely wish he had finished first, Y/n knew he wouldn't hold that grudge and would celebrate just as hard, if not harder, than Paul would tonight.

One last corner. One last straight. One last bit.

"Paul Aron, you are the winner of the Silverstone Grand Prix!" Cheers and thunderous applause rise up throughout the pitlane as CB Ace staff pound the fences and hoot and holler in excitement over their hard work finally paying off. Paul's white and purple car continues on around the circuit as his radio crackles to life.

"We did it! I did it for you, CB Ace Racing! I did it for you, Callum! I did it for you, Y/n!" You smile as Paul thanks everyone, the tears that are probably soaking into the material of his balaclava audible through his voice.

"You did it, Paul. You did it." Y/n says, proud and triumphant. He listens to Arthur's radio and congratulates him as well before pulling his headphones off and slowly following the rest of his team over to parc fermé.

As he goes, Y/n thinks to himself about how big this was for them. A rookie team. Two rookie drivers. Hundreds of points and a handful of podiums under their belt. And now a win. It was a dream come true as well as a big fuck you to everyone who had doubted them.

Y/n lines up front and centre as he watches Paul pull into parc fermé, the white and purple of his car sparkling and practically iridescent under the British sun. Arthur's car comes next but Y/n isn't able to stare for long, Paul clambering out of his car seconds later.

Paul stands atop his car and cheers, all the mechanics and staff around Y/n cheering along too. Y/n claps, slowly and patiently, as he waits for Paul to get weighed. Before long, his helmet has been discarded and he starts running over.

Straight to Y/n.

"I did it!" Paul says as he all but collapses in Y/n's arms. Y/n holds him close, offering his hand to Arthur when the other man appears moments later. He rolls his eyes fondly at Paul and Y/n before moving over to congratulate the rest of the staff.

The interviews and the cool down room waiting period passed so quickly Y/n was almost sure he imagined them. Before long, however, he stands in a crowd of thousands, eyes fixed on his two drivers. On his boyfriend. On his staff. On the legacy they've created in only their first year. And there's still more to come.

As the Estonian and British national anthems fill the Silverstone circuit in rapid succession, Y/n feels ecstatic.

Paul knocks against the doorframe. Arthur's driver's room door is open, but Paul doesn't want to just barge in without getting some sort of consent.

"Paul! Come on in." Arthur says, looking up from his phone with a soft smile. Paul smiles in return and slowly enters the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Can we talk?"

"Of course." Arthur says, locking his phone and placing it to one side, all his attention fixed solely on Paul. It's a bit daunting. "What is up?"

"You know me and Y/n are dating right?" Paul says, watching as Arthur's eyes widen almost comically in shock. "That's a no then."

"No clue." Arthur clarifies, laughing softly. A small amount of tension bleeds from the atmosphere at that and Paul finds himself relaxing somewhat.

"Well we are and um, do you think it seems like he favours me?" Paul asks, wringing his hands together. The question was out there now, simmering in the air between them. Arthur hmm's, causing Paul to look up and meet his eyes.

"No, not at all. You two seem closer, but I've never felt like you were prioritised over me." Arthur says, shrugging with a wonky expression on his face.

"Oh thank god. I was so worried someone would think that was the case. People are already getting suspicious about us on Twitter." Paul says, all the tension seeping from his shoulders, allowing him to practically melt against the wall behind him.

"Ah, Twitter rumours. The place of all good F1 commentary." Arthur snarks, both of them laughing at the idiocy of his words.

"That's an understatement."

liked by paularon_, arthur_leclerc and 20,072 others

y/n.cbace Sorry everyone, but this one's mine. (Bonus Arthur with Paul at the end I guess? 🙄)

tagged paularon_, arthur_leclerc

comments

paularon_ Love you, kallikene 🤍 liked by y/n.cbace y/n.cbace Love you more 😘

arthur_leclerc What's that supposed to mean 😐 liked by y/n.cbace y/n.cbace Nothingggg! I love you equally, just in different ways! arthur_leclerc Uh-huh, sure 😒 liked by y/n.cbace

neonpinkleds I TOLD Y'ALL MOTHERFUCKERS !!!!

user3 Eugh, the only reason you got the seat is because you're fucking the team principal. user1 Just say you're jealous you're not getting your dick wet🙄 liked by y/n.cbace

© all rights to babybearnation 2024.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 7

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

My god this header is ass but I was an emo kid what can I say

Series Masterlist : Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

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Chapter summary: Past. Logan has a nightmare. Present. You have a nightmare.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

EXTRA WARNING!!!!: Pretty graphic. Again, I cant and wont tag everything but I dont wanna throw you off.

2.3 words

Before

“Logan?”

Your voice broke through the noise, the sound of machine guns and children screaming and a bomb dropped in the distance but he heard you. Everything was disjointed, every war, just or unjust, melded into others. Nazi’s shot by WWI German troops, a confederate soldier beheading an English man, Indigenous tribes fighting alongside terrorists, a confusing group to say the least. Still, he heard you.

“Logan!”

You, standing in the middle of it all in a modest pink dress. You, pristine as if you were teaching a class but surrounded by blood and bodies and murdered innocents. You, who when he blinked, was covered in blood but not from bullets or beyonets or gunned up airplanes, but slashed up like Freddy Kruger was hopping his way into his dream. You were holding your stomach, scrambling to keep your guts inside yourself. He was trying to reach you, but hands pulled him back. He couldn’t see faces, but Logan knew they were the hands of all those he’d killed. In front of him, separating Logan from you now, were other. Scott, Charles, Jean, everyone who’d told him to stay away from you.

They aren’t helping you, they aren’t even trying. Instead, they just admonish Logan.

“See what you've done?” Jean asks, and Logan tries to push through.

“She’s bleeding! She needs help!” He screams and screams, watching as you fall to your knees, blood beginning to spill out your mouth. “I need to help her!”

Charles now, voice calm. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“No! I didn’t hurt her! I’d never hurt her! Please, Dolly! Dolly I’m coming!”

Scott, for some reason without his glasses. “We knew this would happen, we knew you couldn’t be trusted, Logan.”

“I wouldn’t hurt her! PLEASE! Just- Let me- DOLLY!!!”

You’ve collapsed, convulsing on the ground as you shout his name over and over again. Logan screams for you, using all his strength to try and get away, to help you, get you out of the war zone and to help, but the weight of the hands around him are too much. They pull and grasp and voices moan in agony behind him.

They pull him away from you.

“LOGAN! WAKE UP!”

Then his eyes are open, claws out and he’s scanning his dark bedroom for the danger, the danger he knows has to be there because why else would he be so fucking scared? But then he turns and he sees you, standing in the corner with your arms crossed over yourself and and he thinks back to the scene in his head where you were dying and Logan almost runs to you- but when he moves, he sees you flinch.

There is a long, long moment where the only thing breaking the silence were your ragged breaths and the pounding of blood in his ears, eyes inter looked in mutual fear. Logan looked at you like you were a spooked deer, even though it was him that felt an unyielding terror inside. You stood in PJ’s, and as his eyes adjusted he took in the new side of you, clothing revealing more than skin you didn’t show. You slept in a dress. Not pants and a top, not a dress meaning lingerie or something cute. Logan thinks for a moment of those outfits worn on the Amazonian Islands in the 70’s Wonder Woman show, how it was just lingerie. No, nothing like that. You just wore a dress, something akin to what he’d seen women wear more than 100 years ago, something a grandma would wear now, a skirt that went to the mid-shin.

Even in the privacy of your own bedroom, you weren’t free from the rhetoric. He bet you wore cotton panties.

You were the first to speak, voice soft and careful as if you weren’t the one shaking. “Are you… okay?”

You, sweet beautiful you, were concerned about him. He’d had a nightmare, because of course he had, of course he could never be free from all the before… but he was okay. 

“Yeah, I uh…” Logan ran a finger over his face, shaking off the tremors. “Nightmare.”

A little nod from your head, then your voice, barely audible. “I get them too.”

Of course you did. Of course a sweet wonderful little doll like you was plagued like this. 

Logan relaxes, shoulders slumping and he slides his legs over the side of the bed before burying his face in his hands. “I’ll kill him, you know.” He mumbles. “Just tell me anything, anything about him and I can track him down. Anything about you.”

The name you used wasn’t a real name. You’d chosen from some woman in the bible you admired, a jewish woman who used her beauty to seduce an enemy and slayed him. Judith was the subject of two Artemisia Gentileschi paintings, hence his familiarity. Logan wasn’t an art guy, but being the history teacher he’d had to brush up on his renaissance art. Your last name was fake too, something you and Charles drummed up and probably had some other religious significance, although he wasn’t religious enough to know. Maybe he’d ask Kurt. 

It’d all been faked and slapped on some ID’s no one would ever be able to tell weren’t real. Your new identity was sealed. Even if you left the school, you could go on. Charles had even faked an education degree and high school diploma when you promised to not use it to do anything you weren’t qualified for. Charles didn’t want you to be trapped at the school, and since the school had been your only option at the time, you’d been given a freedom to leave. This was more than your husband had ever done, keeping you trapped and helpless, not even knowing how to drive. 

All he needed was your real name, and he could track your husband down and bring his head on a platter like John the Baptist. Was that a Gentileschi painting, or was that Caravagio?

“I know.” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts like you had done with his nightmare. “Which is why I won’t tell you.”

When Logan looks up, he sees you still standing so far away from him, and chuckles dryly. “You scared of me now, doll face?”

You shake your head no, but it’s not as confident as he’d have liked.

“I’m in my pajamas. You’re shirtless in shorts. There’s a bed.”

His eyebrows rose at that. “You think I’d do something to you?”

This time, when you shake your head, it’s much firmer. “No. Absolutely not. It’s just… I was always taught to never be in a man’s bedroom… or I might bring something on myself, or it would lead me to sin, or, or there’s something about the appearance of sin… I dunno, it’s just considered improper.”

He let the words settle into his skin. Sometimes, loving you was like the women he’d loved, bedded, courted so long ago. Such a different time, a different world. Yet you were still so different. Back then, women were just waiting for someone to untether them, give them an out, run away. They craved that freedom, the liberty sex brings. Logan didn’t know what you craved. There was nothing inside you that said you wanted to scream, to be unhinged, to let go. You weren’t a bubble waiting to pop, you were simply happy to be as you were, dresses and all.

“I understand, Dolly. Thank you for uh, for waking me. But you should really just let me be, next time.” Flashes of Rogue all bloodied in his arms flattered across Logan’s memory. Kayla, scratched up before his bones became the weapon they are now.  “I might accidentally hurt you.”

Something he doesn’t recognize flashes on your face before you give a little nod. “Are you alright? I can go make you some tea?”

Part of Logan wanted to say yes, because he loved when you made him tea, but you looked tired. “No, thank you doll. I’m alright. Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting weird.”

“Thanks kinda my thing, isn’t it?” You smile just a little, making a bit of a face as you walk sideways towards the door. “Little homeschooled teen marriage weirdo?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed at your weird behavior, not turning your back to him, but he decided he didn’t need to question your every move.

“You’re not a weirdo. You’re one of the coolest people I know.”

You laugh at that, eyes bright as always, and slide out the door.

After

You scream. And scream. And scream, over and over again. There’s blood everywhere. Logan tore everyone you loved apart; your students, your fellow teachers, Scott, Jean, Kurt, Emma, Charles. Every single one was hacked to pieces. Logan pinned you to the ground, pounding into your cunt as if you were just a lifeless doll. You didn’t fight. You didn’t scream. Were you screaming before? You can’t remember now.

Lifeless you lay, head lulled to the side as Logan fucked you. There was blood coming out of your cunt, but you didn’t know how you knew that. Spread and prone and stretched you took what Logan gave you, his soft words grunting in your ear.

“Isn’t this better, doll? Not fighting? See, I can make it good for you. I can make you wet. You’re so wet for me, my little submissive dolly.” It wasn’t blood between your legs anymore, it was cum as an uncomfortable orgasm swelled through your body. Still, ever so still, you never moved. Remy lay next to you, unrecognizable outside of intuition as he’s just a pile of slashed flesh now.

“My perfect, lifeless doll.” You’re pliant in his hands.

Suddenly Scott is in front of you, a bodiless head , eyes gouged out of his face, nothing but bloody pits. Still he speaks.

“You did this.”

No. No you’d never-

“You’re dangerous. Violence follows you. You’re a grenade.”

It wasn’t you! It was Logan!

“It hasn’t always been Logan. But it’s always been you. You are the common denominator.”

You blink and it’s no longer the friends and family and children of your new life. It’s your mom and dad, siblings, in laws, everyone who meant something to you before. 

It’s your husband between your legs now, and you think there is nothing possible worse than this, nothing could be worse than him being back. Everything you went through, it’s never going to end. You’re dying. Maybe you’re dead because you’re watching from above now, your body on the ground and cold.

Your husband strokes your lifeless, compliant form. “The perfect wife.”

You’re back in your body, your mother lying next to you now. “Why couldn’t you just be good?”

You wake up to Remy shaking you.

His voice is an immediate calm, a recognition that he isn’t dead, he’s not a mass of gore on the floor while you’re being raped, killed for something you’ve done that you didn’t even know what. He’s alive.

“Remy!” You grab his shirt, pulling him to you and you don’t care that he’s a man half on your bed. He’s alive. Remy has often woken you from nightmares, his room right next to yours. Remy was closer, but Logan could hear you from further. Still, Remy was a light sleeper, so he usually got to you before Logan was aware.

Once you let go, Remy took several steps back, right up against the wall. This was something Remy did to prevent further anxiety. You trusted Remy fully, you never got an inkling that he wanted to fuck you or was playing the long game, just that he wanted to help you.

“They are getting worse again, pistache. It’s more often than when you first came here.”

You pull your blanket close to your chest even though you were fully covered. Remy slept in boxers, but he wore a robe around himself, something he bought after the first time he helped you through a nightmare. He came in in just his underwear and you were only three days into joining the school. Needless to say, seeing a man almost naked had scared the ever living hell out of you, so Remy bought a robe to cover up without having to waste time dressing. He was thoughtful like that. 

“I know, I know. I just… stress… I got the prom coming up, been a lot.”

Remy frowned, “Planning a high school dance shouldn’t trigger nightmares. Is this because of what happened at the ball?”

You wince. That memory was a lot, something that you didn’t like to think about. You doubted Scott did either, and if his jaw was ever the same. 

You took to long to answer, looking down at your blanket, so Remy continued. “I know that you and Logan have had… a falling out.” Your heart clenches at the words, heat flushing over your skin. Your blanket hid what you had been under loose clothing; a bump. You tuck your knees up so the blanket downs fall over your stomach. “I think he can fix it. You and him… well, I thought you’d get along before you ever met him. I brought your down stairs that first day because I’d seen him walking in, sent him to the store with you, sent him to have lunch… I think you two suit each other.” Remy gives you a smile. “You soften him. He protects you. It’s good for you both. Whatever it is, I think you can fix it. That’s all I’ll say.”

Remy stayed true to his word, not continuing about it… but you couldn’t help thinking how horrified he’d be if he found out what Logan did to you. He’s still gone, coming back any day now. Remy thought you softened him, and you suppose you did. For a while. 

You let Remy get you a snack, a little sweet treat to get the sick taste out of your mouth and cheer you up. He was kind, attentive, but the memory of him as nothing but a pile of slosh haunted you. Logan was dangerous. You were already worried about Scott prying where he didn’t need to, worrying about him getting himself killed, but now you think about Remy. What will he do when he learned Logan raped a baby into you?

Logan returns to his dolly next chapter! Next chapter we have 2 dances. Past, a ball Dolly put on because of the pride and prejuduce unit for her lit class, and presant she put on a sort of prom for the teenagers.

That chapter is where we get another HUGE chunk of dolly's past! the final bombwill be nearer to the end. I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts on what you think dollys secrets are!!! There was a hint this chapter!

Ideas for a poll is always welcome! as are songs for the playlist

I need to make a better cover pic now that ive gotten a feel for the series and its themes

If you've read Rooms on Fire or The Wrong Way, you know I tend to write a similar type for these dark series. Dolly, Little one and Madonna are all girly, quieter, feminine, submissive types. I hope that those whove read it all, because i know some people have read most things i put out, don find dolly boring. I think all three are unique in their own ways, and Dolly has her own things too, even if she's quiet and nervous

I love all yall and am so thankful for the support ive gotten here!!!!!

please remember, comments keep me writing. It doesnt have to be a compiment, just something that shows engagment like "remy is a good friend"

@multiversed-daydreamer @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @hindi-si-ikay @samsamsantos @madamerubrum @shybluebirdninja a @hornystan @rogueinmymind @accountforreading123 @yawnetu @princessanglophile @and-claudia @new-genesis1000 @teaganthemorningstar @oldloganslittleslut @zaggprincess2 @bugsinmyeyez @groundclueless @cosmolight

[hannamoon143]

Coffee and letters

Words: 2,8k

Genre: only fluff yet

Warnings: one joke about killing, mentions of food,

pairings: non idol seungmin x fem. Reader

synopsis: seungmin is y/n’s teenage pen pal, they send letters to each other for years now, and it’s something in her boring everyday life as a barista, she is always looking forward to. But what if he just doesn’t reply anymore, after seven years of constant letters? What if y/n finds out, he hides something and he is a lot more different than she thought?

a/n: english isn’t my first language so i’m apologizing for any grammar or spelling mistakes. so yep i got this done,finally, will se if i continue it. as always take care of yourself and have a great day! enjoy <333

I walked out of the post office, going my usual way to work. Although I had just sent my letter, I was already looking forward to Seungmin's reply. As I walked through the streets, I thought back to how everything started.

7 years ago

Finally i could spend some alone time after this horrible school day. I walked into the familiar library, greeting Nora, the librarian. I went to my favorite little spot, a leather chair, with a little dark table in front of it. I took out my headphones and put them on, playing my playlist. As i wanted to take out the book i was currently reading i saw something at the table. It was an envelope. I didn’t want to step into someone's privacy, but i took it to see if a name was on it. There was no recipient but a sender. His name was kim seungmin. I thought about all the people i knew, but i didn’t know anyone with the last name kim here. I decided to lay it on the table again and just read my book. But as i tried to concentrate on the story, my mind always went back to the letter. Who would write a letter, without a recipient and then forget it in the library? Of course the guy could have been in a hurry and just forgot to write the recipient. And to forget something also wasn’t that unlikely to happen. I tried to ignore it, but my curiosity got the better of me.

I ripped the envelope open, trying not to destroy the address of the sender.

Hello stranger,

i knew someone would be too curious too not open the letter. I would scold you, but that’s what i wanted so it’s okay. Are you wondering why some weird guy writes a letter to a stranger? There is no good explanation, i was just really bored, so i had this idea. Of course, you can throw this letter away, and just ignore it, cause maybe you think i’m a creep or something but there is another option too. My address is at the back of the envelope, and maybe you’ll just write a letter back? I know it probably seems random to write a stranger a letter, and you’d also have to give me your address but doesn’t it sound fun to have a random penpal you don’t know? But there are rules.

No photos, no social media stalking, and we will never come to each other's address.

And you have to tell me your age, so i won’t write with either a ten year old or a sixty year old. Are you one of these ages? ( if yes then put the letter back)

Do you accept?

Kim seungmin

(p.s.: i am sixteen)

I was taken back a bit. So he wanted me to open the letter? That means of course he didn’t exactly want me to open it, he couldn’t have known i would find it, but he wanted the person who would find it, to open it. I was thinking through my options. Of course he could be some creep that only wanted my address to stalk me or something but that would be weird cause he couldn’t know who would reply. But there was something about it that seemed fun. Also, he was my age, if he was telling the truth.

I could just write one letter back, maybe he wouldn’t even reply..

I took a sheet of paper out my schoolbag and started to write.

Hello Kim seungmin,

you’re right, i was too curious, so i had to open the letter. I can see what you mean and i’m not entirely convinced that you aren’t a forty year old creep but i guess that’s the risk right? You can already read my address and name at the envelope but i’ll just tell you like this too. My name is y/n l/n. I am not ten years old, actually i am sixteen too. Don’t you think it‘s weird? maybe we even saw each other at school sometimes.. ( i can’t know if you know me but i never heard of you) I think it would be nice to have a pen pal. The rules aren’t too hard, so i accept.

So now that we talked this out i will just start asking you something.

What kind of music do you like? Yeah this is maybe not the first question to ask someone i don’t even know, but you have to understand music is very important to me. 

Also, i guess you want to know something about me too. I am very introverted, spend most my time reading, listening to music, and going on walks. And i love the moon. It may seem random or weird but in my opinion, the moon is holding such a captivating beauty, i can’t describe it.

The end of my first letter to you, i hope you write back

Y/n

Should i really send it? I wasn’t entirely convinced that it was a good idea, but my legs worked like automatically, as i took my things, went out the library, bought an envelope, wrote down his and my address, and then brought the letter to the post office.

I was nervous. I was nervous when i went home and the next day at school and all the days after. What if it was just some joke? Or what if i came off as weird? I mean who opens a stranger's letter?

That was until i came home from school one day, and a letter from someone named Kim Seungmin was there.

Now:

I smile at the memory. I am so glad my teenage self opened this letter. As i go into my usual coffee place, i think back to seungmins last letter. He was telling me how his life was since the last letter, as always, and he wrote about the fact that his roommate felix was so annoying lately. Of course i knew he didn’t mean it, after all these years i knew he loved felix, also if he wasn’t showing it.

My day went by as usual, i went to work at my coffee shop, well it wasn’t only my coffee shop,it was half mine and half my best friend Lacey’s. After we were done with the university, we decided to open a little coffee shop. I didn’t want to do this forever, but right now it was enough. It was also really well attended so i couldn’t complain.   

The day quickly went by, and so did the next ones too. Since i was done with the university, days were all pretty much the same. I was trying to figure out what i wanted to do now, but i had no plan. But also if i didn’t really know what to do with the future i was happy. I was living with lacey, had the coffee shop too, and then there was Seungmin. I was always excited for his letters. Maybe some people found it childish that i wrote letters to a guy i never saw, for seven years now. Or that his letters were the things i was most forward looking to, these days. Lacey also thought that it was a bit weird, but she never said anything about it.

After all these years i felt like i actually knew him. He knew everything about me,and i couldn’t know if he told me everything too of course but i was kinda sure. I knew his secrets, his personal traits, and his little characteristics that he always said he hid from people.

Altough i never saw this boy, i felt like he knew more about me than anyone else.

So the next days everything seemed as usual. I woke up, went to work, then had lunch with lacey, work again, then i went for a walk, went home and went to sleep after watching my favorite drama again. The only thing that still made me wake up excited was that i was looking forward to seungmins next letter as always. But it didn’t come. Usually his replies came about five days after i wrote a letter,sometimes it also took one and a half week. But this time,it’s been two weeks. Of course i knew that that wasn’t too long so i just continued patiently waiting. But there was still nothing.

„What are you thinking about,you seem sad?“ lacey said, with her mouth full of ramen. I thought a moment before i answered.

„i’m not sad, just a bit worried cause seungmin didn’t reply yet, and it’s been three weeks“

Lacey chuckled. „You sound like a love-sick puppy, he is probably just busy.“

I mumbled an agreeing answer, but i wasn’t convinced. Of course she could be right. But i just couldn’t stop thinking about it. Yeah, it was stupid, i was a grown adult, my thoughts shouldn’t be with my penpal from my teenage years all the time, but he was important to me, altough some people found it ridiculous that a person i didn’t even meet yet was so important to me. But what could i do anyways? I thought. So i waited. And waited. And waited for two months.

Was he maybe sick of my yapping? If he’d be busy or out of town he probably would have told me in his last letter, right? Or was it maybe something spontaneous? I was thinking so much into it, that i always zoned out at work. One day, i even dropped a latte on a customer because i just didn’t see that he was standing there because i was deep in thoughts. After a lot of apologizing and giving the customer a towel lacey pulled me into the backroom of the coffee shop.

„Seriously y/n?  You can’t continue like this.“

„What?“

„You constantly zone out, are always in thoughts and you can’t concentrate on anything anymore. If this seungmin thing is really freaking you out so much then just go to his adress and ask him about it.“

My eyes widened. „I can’t do that, it’s against our rules.“

„Rules? Well if you don’t want to do that then you better get over it now, cause i need you at work, and i also can’t talk with you normally anymore. So please, get over it, or just ask him alright? I just want your best. She sighed and went out.

I would lie, if i’d say i wouldn’t want to drive to seungmin and ask him why he wasn’t replying,but wasn’t that too much? I decided to just wait for a little longer.

3 months later:

„Come on now.“

„I don’t want to.“

„You don’t even know what i am talking about.“ And with that a stern but also soft lacey, pulled me up and towards the door. I protested but i knew there was no point, cause if she had that look in her eyes, she wouldn’t give up so easily. I didn’t even know where she wanted me to go, but it couldn’t be too bad. Probably she wanted me to go out again or something.

Unmotivated i slipped my shoes on and let me pull her into her car. I grumbled as she started the engine, typing something into her phone. She was starting to drive when i looked at her phone. I immeidately recognized the adress.

„What?! Lace, you won’t really drive there, right?“ I almsot screamed, but she didn’t even flinch.

„I never saw you so off and almost depressed before y/n. It is weird you know. And i don’t like that it only takes one guy that you don’t even really know to make you feel like that, but if it is what makes you happy to send letters with him then we are going to fix this.“ She said,sounding really sure about what she was doing.

While she was talking, slowly everything started to sink in. I was about to meet seungmin. The guy i trusted the most but also a guy i didn’t even know, altough it felt like it.

I wanted to argue with her, but the only thing i mumbled was: „i’m not depressed.“ okay, maybe i wanted to meet him  a little bit after all these years, but i really didn’t want to break our rules or annoy him. And how was i even looking? God what if he was a very good looking  serious man and i looked like this? I was silently thanking myself for not choosing the shirt with the giant penguin in a dinosaur pajamas today. I was wearing a jeans and a navy blue sweater.

„We are here.“

 „What?“

She was right,we were at his adress, but we only drove about thirty minutes. I didn’t know he was living so near to me. How did i never realize that? What if i already met him wihtout knowing?  My heart pounded in my chest as i looked at the apartment building.

„ You go out there now, knock on this guys door, and ask him why he didn‘t reply to you for almost half a year. And i will stand behind you, cause i don’t wanna risk that he is a middle aged creep who will kidnap you“ Lacey said firm, but soft.

 I went out the car, trying to breathe regularly. Lacey was right. I was always a more direct person, so i really wanted to know why seungming wasn’t replying, and i was also a bit worried, i mean he could have gotten into a car accident or something. So i silently walked up the stairs until i was standing in front oft he door with his apartment number. Was i really here? I couldn’t belive it. I heard lacey sighing.

I wanted to kill her when she knocked on the door and then stepped back again. But i just took a deep breath, trying to not get too nervous. After a while a blonde boy with multiple freckles opened the door. He seemed to be my age. Was that seungmin? My breath hitched. I imagined him different, what obviously stupid was, since i couldn’t know how he looked.

„Uhm,hello…? Who are you?“ he said, in a slight confused tone.

„K-Kim seungmin?“ i finally said,my voice sounding small.

For a moment he looked irritated but then his face lit up a bit.

„Seungmin? I am not him if you mean that, i am felix, his roommate. Do you know him?“ he said, looking behind me too, where lacey was standing.

„y…yes i am his uh, friend i guess,we send each other letters.“ I tried to explain.

The guy that seemed to be felix quickly nodded.

„you have to be y/n! nice to meet you, i heard some things from you. Are you here cause he told you something? Do you know where he is?“ felix face seemed somehow… hopeful?

I was confused. Felix didn’t know where he was?

„Actually i came here, because i was worried cause he didn’t reply to my letter for five months now.“ I mumbled. „ do you not know where he is right now?“

„actually that was exactly the time when he left… i just woke up one day and he left a note in the kitchen that was only saying that he would be gone for sometime but i shouldn’t ask or search for him… yeah, it was kinda weird, and i am dead worried about him,but i want to respect what he wants“ Felix explained.

A faint sound was everything i managed to get out. So he just randomly left,without an explanation? I knew i should go back home, just forget about this random stranger i wrote letters to. I still had everything i wanted, lacey,the coffee shop, the apartment. But then there was something about this that made me worried, and also curious. I thought i knew most things about this boy, at least that he always said the truth when he was writing me. But suddenly i wasn’t sure anymore. When not even his roommate that was his best friend (how i knew from the letters) knew anything, then he was clearly hiding something. Could i maybe find out where he went,and why he left?

„Actually felix, could we come in for a moment?“

A/n: maybe will be a very short series, but i don’t knwo if the idea is even good yet so let’s see how people like pt 1.

©hannamoon143

[potatoofdefiance]

My two cents and a rant on the allegations and Good Omens

(I will probably regret this later)

This has been eating at me for a while now, ever since the news broke that Neil Gaiman was a sex pest (see infamous TERF-adjacent podcast by Tortoise media) and I have been consciously and unconsciously ruminating over it for weeks now, so here goes.

I think the news of Neil Gaiman hit me harder than I was expecting, and certainly harder than I would have liked.

I didn’t (and certainly do not now) consider myself a “true fan”. I was never a hard-core fan, one that goes to signings or book fairs or cons to meet my favourite author. Partly because I never latched that much on any of the authors of the books or movies I loved, and partly (maybe for the best now that I think about it) because I never had the money, or wasn’t located in a geographically favored area. Meaning I never lived anywhere near wherever events with Neil Gaiman were happening.

So, with all this in mind, how is it that the news managed to hit me so hard?

I thought (read: ruminated) about it, and I think it is because of Good Omens. And the latest times. In my life, and I think a good chunk of other people’s lives too, these last few years have been a roller-coaster. You choose which particular scenario the roller-coaster is set into; mine is on fire, running through a sea of shit and we are being slapped by gooey flaming eels hard in the face.

Maybe someone might enjoy this. That someone isn’t me.

But the point is: I have been struggling. With my life, with a mental health condition, with the world and my place in it.

Enter Good Omens. In an effort to actively expose myself to “nice” stuff, stuff that would, if not make me feel better, at least make me laugh, I started tapping more into the fandom.

I’m not a fandom person. Again, never latched onto anything that had a fandom big enough (where are the Ann Halam fans? No one is making cosplays of Sloe from Siberia, are they?).

But with Good Omens, it seemed perfect for me. I wasn’t invested so much, it didn’t make me feel like I was “lacking” something in order to be part of it. I just felt like I didn’t care enough to really be vulnerable to it, I felt like it could have been a nice innocuous hobby.

But that’s the point. Thinking it was innocuous made me let down my guard enough to actually fall in love with the fandom. Fall in love with those two weirdos of characters (which by the way, I’ll say this now: I think Aziraphale and Crowley as portrayed in the series are more a product of fans and Tennant and Sheen than they are a product of Gaiman and Pratchett. And this is not a bad thing per se, I think, but let’s give credit where credit is due).

And let me be clear: I gained so so much from joining the fandom. It has positively affected so many seemingly unrelated parts of my life, and I’m so grateful to so many kind strangers on the internet who have shared such wholesome art with me, and have gifted me so much, that even putting it into words is simply not enough to explain all of it.

And one of the results of this “wave of wholesomeness” is I also started following Gaiman more closely.

Like so many, I loved Coraline. Gaiman seemed a genuinely nice person. An old guy who had wisdom to share, and who seemed to be fascinatingly non-stereotypical? If that makes sense. What I mean is that he was everything my father warned me against. A goth, weird, a writer therefore an artist (and in my family we know artists are fools who end up on the street jobless and homeless). And yet, to me now he seemed such a normal guy. Yes maybe someone who enjoyed that fashion style, but otherwise very far away from the usual excess of a rockstar. Of course I was too young when he was at the peak of his rockstar years. English is not my first language, and when he was 40 I was in elementary school and just learning about him, and you know, they do not write about his fans passing out at signings or his groupies on the back cover of children’s books.

What I mean is that I didn’t have access to all the media and information about him.

So I start seemingly connecting to this writer, whose works I have enjoyed for the most part, and who seems such a nice guy in how he interacts with his fans and people in general. Such an inoffensive, kind person. And kind seemingly to everyone.

I started liking him. To the point where I remember telling my partner: you know, Neil Gaiman is someone I’d take a coffee with (which in Italian culture is one of the greatest honors one can give you. Having a coffee while sitting at a café and chat for hours is what good friends do).

So, in my mind he had a special place now. He was someone I started to admire and look up to.

And this is, I think, where it hurts. It hurts because even if I wasn’t personally victimized, I never met him, he never acted creepy with me, he doesn’t even know me, it still felt like I, as part of the fandom, had been used for his clout. And also, it hurts to feel like someone you trusted because of how they presented themselves has lied to you.

And on top of that: it is so fucking disrespectful. The fact he thought he could get away with it. With hurting so many people (one is one too many by the way), and causing so much pain, while also enjoying crowds of adoring fans, both online and in person.

I find it personally difficult to reconcile my love of the GO fandom with all of this right now. And I think it’s for a number of reasons.

Firstly because the silence of institutions and people around these facts has opened some old wounds and made me angry again towards a system that I perceive as hostile towards me and people like me who might be vulnerable.

What I mean is: I know that Gaiman is a powerful person, and a lot of people need to bring money home and are tied to contracts and what not (yeah I’m looking at our favorite two male presenting british actors here) and I understand it. I do. And this is exactly why this stuff makes me angry again. Angry at the whole shitty system we live in, where if you happen to be in some kind of power imbalance you might end up having to eat shit and shut up while witnessing violence against you or others and not being able to utter a word about it. This sucks. It makes me angry. It makes me angry that Michael Sheen, someone I like to believe would be among the first to shout “I BELIEVE THE VICTIMS” if he was talking to friends at a bar, likely has to shut up and play nicely because Darth Amazon has some fucking clause written in Braille somewhere that says he has to sacrifice his firstborn if he ever dares to suggest he doesn’t like anyone related to the franchise.

It makes me soooo angry that we stay in the dark, and we only know from those people who are brave, and powerful enough to speak up about something that (allegedly) has been known for fucking years in the writing community. That this person was a creep. That he was treating people, mainly women and non-binary folks, if not bad, at least poorly.

And you know, this makes me even more angry because I have been in such shitty situations too! I was a victim of a system where exploitation and borderline abuse were normalized in a work setting.

And it wakes something deep in me to read that “it was an open secret bla bla bla” and again: I understand why people set up whisper networks instead of taking these giants down. I understand it. It still makes me angry because I simply do not want to live in such systems. Systems where I’m either the sacrificial lamb or I’m the one tying it on the table, or handing the axe over to the butcher, or a witness who has no power to stop the suffering.

I don’t want to live in such a system. But I have to. In my real life. I have to put up with so much shit sometimes, shit that makes me feel like I cannot stand up for my values because hey, I need to pay the bills too. And Good Omens was one of those few things where I could escape a bit into an alternative reality, where everything could be a bit better.

And I’m sure the fandom is still like this for most of the fans. I have witnessed first-hand how supportive and cheerful this fandom can be.

For me though, it still makes me think of all this...tsunami of shit.

I want to be able to enjoy the silly fanart, the memes, the wait for season 3 again. But I can’t. I can’t because my brain does not work like that. Good Omens still means Neil Gaiman too much to me. And I cannot go around talking cheerfully about Good Omens while feeling like I’m feeding into the clout of someone who used their power to coerce vulnerable people. Because (and I might be wrong) it feels like the message I’m sending is: my comfort show/book is more important than your pain or your life. And I can’t. This is not the truth.

I feel for the victims. Probably I feel even more than it would be healthy for me, or normal. But I don’t know, I feel like I connect to them. Maybe because I’ve been a victim of abuse perpetrated in clear power-imbalanced relationships, or because I felt like nobody cared about me and my wellbeing for so long, that eventually I stopped caring too.

And it is bad. It’s dehumanizing to a point where you really start believing you don’t matter. Your wellbeing doesn’t matter. There are more important things.

Ok so, I don’t want the victims, the survivors, to feel like this. They matter. They matter to me because if there’s one thing that is going to re-ignate the sacred fire of defiance in me is being able to stop this self-feeding cycle of self-loathing and misery. You matter. We matter. Vulnerable people who have been hurt matter to me. If there is one thing we can do to resist these systems of oppression and these people who abuse their power, that thing is believing that the people they hurt matter. If not more, at least as much as them.

And the way I show myself and others that the victims and their lives matter to me is by distancing myself from Neil Gaiman and his works, at least for now.

I feel bad for people who might have found themselves unwillingly tied to all of this. I feel bad for Sheen and Tennant, for all the wonderful artists and craft-people who have put so much of their work and love in Good Omens and I don’t want to let them down.

My two cents are that season 3 will not be canceled if they see there’s enough traction, and definitely won’t be canceled unless fans start a crusade against it, which won’t happen most likely.

The fandom loves Tennant and Sheen too much, and these are too much nice people to really hold a grudge against them, so I don’t think it will be canceled.

I’m afraid we (I say “we” meaning everyone who loves Good Omens) will be “held hostage” by Gaiman in the sense that he knows season 3 is not going to happen without him, so it’s either “we” or the majority of “we” behave, or it’s not going to happen. Which again, I don’t think he would lose the opportunity to make some money, and he also has contract duties to fulfill, but it still is worth it for him to try to leverage his power.

I wanted to end this rant on a positive note, somehow. But I don't know exactly what to say. Recently one of the things that has brought me laughs and joy has been the Channel 4 series “We are Lady Parts”.

In one of the episodes they quote a very beautiful poem, which came back to mind when I was listening to Claire (the latest woman who has come forward with allegations) on the “Am I Broken” podcast.

The poem is Speak by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, I will paste the version from the show, because I think it’s very powerful and beautiful.

Speak, for your two lips are free Speak, for your tongue is still your own This straight body still is yours. Speak, your life is still your own.

See how in the blacksmith’s forge flames leap high and steel glows red, padlocks opening wide their jaws. Every chain’s embrace outspread.

Time enough is this brief hour Until body and tongue lie dead. Speak, for truth is living yet. Speak, whatever must be said.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

schools of thought

A landoscar college AU, told through social media

oscar, a quiet english major, and lando, chaotic maths boy, are paired together in a philosophy module at Federation U.

author's notes:

we're being a bit fluid with grid ages, but oscar and lando are sophomores/year 2 of college here

ignore the timestamps, they don't really matter

if you enjoy it, please consider liking / reblogging / commenting! 💙

part 1 🍊 (of 4?)

——————————introducing our protagonists——————————————

INSTAGRAM

@landoooonorriz

📍fed U more like fed UP

liked by charliesangles, carloswithone_S, wochi_jianbing and 158 others

landoooonorriz get in my dump truckkk

view 23 replies

charliesangles photos taken moments before disaster 🕷️😬

maxisnot_here: batman isn't part of the MCU ⤷carloswithone_S: buzzkill

wochi_jianbing nice pic bro ⤷landoooonorriz: ty GY, enjoy shanghaiiii. haha that rhymed comment liked by wochi_jianbing carloswithone_S: on the decks next week let's gooo

GOODREADS

@oz-peartree

oscar spent most of his summer (or australian winter) hanging out in cafés and reading. he once wrote a 2,000 words review on the merits of good omens on goodreads, but then got embarrassed and also thought it would interfere with his deliberate choice to not leave any reviews besides stars. so he deleted the whole thing and saves it in a folder for himself instead. one of his sisters once stumbled on his goodreads page by accident. he has tried to block her IP across multiple devices but has largely been unsuccessful.

——————————— the seminar —————————————

we zoom in on Federation Internationale University (FIU), a sunny campus nestled up in the hills of monaco. two students, lando norris and oscar piastri, have made it into their sophomore year.

prof vettel's philosophy 204 module is notoriously hard. both of them have to take it as part of their degree requirements (but for lando, maybe also because he enjoys a challenge).

assignment pairs are set by prof seb early in the semester. lando already knows of oscar, and vice versa, but nothing substantial beyond passing each other in the hallway or the occasional library run-in in freshman year. lando's made quite an impression because he once spent half the seminar chatting about how "young stalin was kinda cute" despite stalin not being related to the philosophy syllabus, and it being totally tangential to the topic at hand. half the class agrees with lando, the other half is too overwhelmed by his energy to argue.

oscar just wants to get on with the work already. he was the best kid at his prep school, the prep school that he moved halfway across the world for at 14 and worked hard at, and doesn't like being distracted from his very important goal of being class valedictorian at FIU eventually.

lando gets oscar's number after class, before they both skirt off in different directions. oscar wants to talk to lando about the assignment, but when lando exits the room he's already off talking to another bunch of friends, and oscar's too awkward to jump in.

lando texts first.

iMessage

oscar rolls his eyes and gets back to writing his eighteenth century literature class notes.

meanwhile, lando texts max, his roommate and padel bud, about it. max is at a campus hackathon. (max is a junior who has been scouted by at least three big tech firms already, and is on track for early graduation. but lando thinks max has other reasons for wanting to stick around...)

the other thing lando is sure of is that oscar is not in fact better than him at padel. but he is not going to worry about that. or think about how oscar might look, red-faced and flustered and sweaty...

lando's phone pings with social notifications, and the thought disappears.

————meanwhile, the boys do some research——————

lando:

oscar:

and contrary to popular belief, oscar does have some feelings on the matter. he makes these feelings known to his friend logan, one of the few non-europeans on campus who also knows distinctly what it's like when people make fun of his accent. nevermind that everybody has an accent, oscar thinks. the idea of a neutral accent is an arbitrary invention. he'd just rather not expend the energy fighting people about it.

if oscar has any thoughts about how he would feel should lando choose to turn his flirty energy towards oscar himself, well... that is besides the point. because that would never happen. oscar is not interesting, oscar is not noticable. oscar is here to get his grades and move on.

oscar can think of three things that he hates, which he is in the process of overcoming. flight delays, going to the dentist, and now: working in group projects.

but, oscar tells himself, he is a grown man. he's moved halfway across the world to pursue his dream of getting his degree, and then heading on to work in publishing. he tells himself he'll stay focused on this, and nothing else. because pursuing his goals requires singleminded determination. or like the great poet pitbull once said: for anybody going through tough times, been there, done that. every day above ground is a great day, remember that.

so oscar puts his phone face-down on the table. he tries very hard not to think about bee statues or lando for the rest of the day.

(he fails.)

——————————— What happens next, you ask? Stay tuned for Part 2 to find out —————————————

📚 part 2 now live!

more author's notes:

eyy it's my first multimedia(?) fic for f1blr!

this was inspired by an ask. i took some key elements from this (lovely!) prompt and remixed. i meant it to be just one post but i think it's now gonna be four parts, oops.

i love chatting so if you have thoughts or even remotely enjoyed this story, let me know what you think :) or lmk if you want to be tagged on the next updates!

bye!

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Wakfu Season 4, Episode 4 [PART 2]

I wonder how long he's been standing there. Did he come an hour early? 20 minutes early? Just standing there, doing nothing...

Dios mio... la creatura!

Something very weird happened with the Eni queen/leader. In s2, her cape and hands were like this because she was sitting, in this season — it's just part of her design. Did nobody check this stuff? Am I going insane thinking this is an error? Did she look bad when her cape was down? What the fuck is happening?

Once again, something very silly is happening with Sufokia, if they have an empress and a king. My headcanon to fix it is "the king is a consort-king" or something.

(*sobs in Ankama, or, really, 89% of all media, not understanding that whoever marries the ruler of the nation is a [insert title]-consort, and does not have as much political power or the right of succession* *Hysterically convulses in "99% of all Queens were Queen-consorts, and the title itself, by default, usually means a consort. For this reason, female rulers (rare non-consort Queens who came to throne due to lack of male princes) typically named their husbands "Princes" and not "Kings", because the title king always implies a higher degree of power than a queen; therefore, it might be reasonable to assume, that in this fantasy setting, a Ruling Empress's husband might be called a king for this reason* *Foams at mouth because Ankama just forgot they mentioed Sufokia having a king and I'm trying to cope. badly*)

Also since I'm on this tangent already, YES, this means that Sadida rules of throne succession are:

1. extremely easy for outsiders to abuse (say what you will, but "the spouse inherits the throne" is a BADDD rule to combat conquest by foreign nations, there's a reason it was children or blood-relatives of the ruler, besides patriarchy/divine right of kings/whatever — the spouse is an outsider. All it takes is a princess, who is Wonderful at poisoning, being married off to a foreign nation and whoopsie-daisy, their country is now Her country, and therefore her Family's country),

2. it's unrealistic,

3. probably just bad writing for the sake of drama.

If you're curious why I know all this shit.......... I have a blorbo in a different fandom, and his entire thing is that he was married into a royal family and then tortured by his queen wife in a sort of gender-bent Henry VIII arrangement (except he was kept alive against his will and there was no divorce or church splits). God bless that blorbo for making me learn.

These Huppermages were repurposed from the movie concept art, btw.

I find it quite interesting, that Joris has the authority to be present here...

My personal theory/headcanon is that he is their mediator, and they just call him to their meetings so that, instead of yelling at each other and declaring wars, they can talk to him (and therefore, yell only at him and declare no wars).

Ugh, once again, I am not entirely fond of the English subs. First the translation error about the brotherhood of forgotten/tofu, and now they are making Joris say this spring chicken thing...

It doesn't fit his character and reads weird. Just leave it as "I'm not that young", like in the original. It's more fitting for Joris to speak in negative sentences ("I am not young") than in affirmative ones ("I am old") because he is not fond of stating direct facts about himself and his life... besides the fact that he's standing in front of multiple world leaders.

[kicks my legs cutely thinking about the fact that Joris, older than every king and queen in this place, and fully convinced of his excellence and wisdom and heroism, has been forced to bow down to them for his entire life despite hating at 90% of them for their political decision] I love his commitment to being the protagonist of an 18th century Russian novel about being doomed by the narrative.

Also, kinda wild. You'd think that during Ogrest's chaos they'd— actually I think everyone was too dead to hold meetings during that, nvm.

I wonder what they would do, if the maker of the eyes wouldn't reply. Just stand there? Or is this speech more of a formality — something he always says, in the lead-up to the meeting?

(I am once again reminding you, this blog is LITERALLY about overthinking crepinjurgen lore! Ankama gave no shit while writing this. I'm just doing this for fun.)

He's so unimpressed. Probably still trying to gauge what the fuck is going on.

THE LITTLE SMILE— he's trying to suppress it so hard in the first screenshot here. He's probably glad that Yugo seems to be in good spirits about what's happening, even if he himself is still quite worried.

His expression here is a beautiful mix of "PLEASE DON'T FUCK THIS UP" and "it is a canon event, I cannot intervene"

Literally, Joris's expressions at this moment should be analyzed frame by frame. You can feel the desperation. He now understands that there is a high possibility they are fucked. Because his bestie (who is always right) is an impulsive 20-something year old boy who knows nothing about politics or what people can do, and his mom is a god, and the leaders of the world aren't going to like whatever the fuck is going on, and he KNOWS what they might do, and what might happen, and oh god oh fuck oh god oh fuck—

"Yugo :) perhaps you shuoild :) um. :) ease them into it. :).... :("

He's trying to keep smiling, so hard. It's crazy.

Joris has lived through the huppermage genocide. He knows people don't need that much of a reason to begin killing. He understands precisely just how fragile the position that Yugo and his people are in. He understands his own place in the pecking order, too — he isn't going to act like Yugo's friend if these people are watching.

And neither Yugo, not any other Eliatrope is able to understand this. There are cruelties in this world that they are fundamentally unable to grasp without having truly been seeped in it before.

Like, what is he even to do here, to make Yugo understand how bad the situation is. All he can do is stand there looking haunted, while receiving unprecedented amounts of psychic damage.

If I was Joris at this point, I would simply pull out a flask of whiskey and a cigarette. The political situation has now gone completely unfixable. There is no going back, now that she has said these two lines.

Someone native to the World of Twelve and old enough to understand politics would know how bad this sounds. But to her, these are good things. Of course they are, since she knows what is good and what isn't, and everyone in her world has always accepted those things as good.

Basically: the conflict between WoT and Eliatropes is that a nation of people from a world of teletubbies-level conflict, — with no bigotry or nations or poverty or hunger or theft or inequality, or ulterior motives, — has been added to a "game of thrones" type society with no explanation. And now they are all forced to try and understand one another.

If I was Joris at this moment, I would simply shoot myself in the temple with a gun. If things were bad before, they are horrible now. She is talking to world leaders as her children. It might have been alright even with Eliatropes, but these people aren't Eliatropes.

DO I EVEN NEED TO COMMENT ON HOW BAD THIS IS? IN A WORLD WHERE COLONIALISM, RACISM, SUBJUGATION, AND SLAVERY ARE REAL? IS SHE ON CRACK?

I would give anythign to see Joris's expressions as she's saying these things. I think he should be trembling. Staring vacantly into space.

To someone from a world of violence, a world with "no violence" seems like a world where violence is hidden, and enacted to stop them from voicing their disagreement with the status quo.

Tot has described this as a sort of conflict between the modern world approaches to society — and named China and America as examples of what he was inspired by, while writing Eliatrope.

I will not get into detail on my feelings on it (China is often extremely criticized in the west for things every country in the world does due to racism)

But this might point us towards the fact that the world of Eliatropes wasn't as free of conflict as the show portrays it to be, and it was, in fact, Just A Society, with all that entails. In which case, things get morally morally gray... might explain why, in the earlier drafts of the season, she was meant to be the main antagonist — and why it was decided against.

(Is that maybe why Qilby is so embittered — his experiences were silenced, and he was made to suck it up, only confiding in Shinonome? She does constantly shut up Yugo and Qilby, not letting them speak up about their grudges against each other to keep the peace— [I am quickly silenced by tangent police])