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ilguna · 2 years ago

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☼ lucky charm (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; believing that he'll fail the next game that'll win hufflepuff the quidditch cup, Finnick comes to you asking for felix felicis.

warnings; swearing, rule breaking

wc; 2.9k

notes; hogwarts au

–

Ever since you found out you could make money from illegally selling potions to other students, you haven’t stopped.

You didn’t realize there was such a demand for potions, otherwise you would’ve started sooner. You could be rolling in more galleons than you know what to do with—not that you aren’t already. You will say, though, that it’s extremely time consuming, and they’re lucky you have nothing better to do at Hogwarts.

You’ve tried joining the extracurriculars, but they’re not nearly as entertaining. You don’t have the talent for quidditch, and you were told that by the Captain when you tried out last year. And the last thing you want to do is try out for the frog choir, that’s a ticket to get laughed at.

Actually, you were hoping that Snape would finally come out with a potions club that you could go to instead of studying in the library. As much as he hated to admit it, he told you that you were one of the best potion makers that he’d seen in years. He called you a bright student and then made you promise to never repeat those words to anyone else.

If you could, you’d shove it all in the slytherin’s faces. You’re sure that they’d be pissed a hufflepuff is accomplishing feats they should be doing with their eyes closed. After all, Snape is their house professor, not yours.

You draw a line through a name in your notebook, drawing an arrow to an empty space to write a note on why their order is cancelled, when you hear your name. You look up, closing the notebook in the process to hide what’s inside.

There’s not a lot of people that know you make potions under the table. There’s only a select few people that do, and that’s so you don’t end up getting caught. Your closest friends try to keep their ears out for those who are serious about buying, and they subtly lead them to you.

The only house that you refuse to help so far are the ravenclaws, because they believe in fairness more than the other houses do. They’ll turn in cheaters without a second thought to it, because no one should have an unnatural disadvantage. It’s bullshit.

You get by without them, anyway. This is just a side hobby, it’s not like you’re saving up to buy anything. You could stop whenever you wanted to, but that just risks losing the monopoly you have on the business. You’re the only one that willingly sells the potions at a low price without complaining. And also, your potions aren’t fake. You’re a reliable source.

You’re met with the faces of a few of hufflepuff’s quidditch team. The one that’s standing closest to you is the one and only, Finnick Odair. Lately people have been saying that he’s going to be the huffelpuff seeker prodigy, and your house hasn’t had one of those in a long time.

“What can I do for you?” You ask, placing your quill in the ink bottle to hold it temporarily.

“Can we talk privately?” Finnick asks, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Sure, I’ll meet you in the hallway in just a moment.” You look between him and his friends, “Are we all talking…?”

“No, just me and you.” He smiles.

He walks off with the other two, you make a funny face at their backs. You’re not sure why all three of them approached you if he wanted to talk to you in private. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he needed moral support to talk to you. You can’t imagine you’re a hard person to approach, though.

You flip the notebook back open, taking the quill to write the note quickly. He cancelled because he needed the potion for a later date, and would prefer for it to be freshly produced. You write the new date next to the note, and then you leave the notebook open to dry while you put the rest of your things away.

You like to use lunch and after dinner as times to catch up on the potions. You refuse to do them in the morning because you’re too tired to operate. You tried a couple of times, and those were the times you set the bathroom on fire and exploded a hole through the stall doors. Your hair still hasn’t grown correctly since.

You pack the rest of your bag, and then head out of the Great Hall to find Finnick Odair. You have a feeling that it’s going to be about the potions. The people who approach you to ask usually start with wanting to speak in private, because that’s what they’ve been instructed to do by your friends.

You pass by Finnick’s friends, and every single one of them has their eyes on you. You ignore them, leave the doors, and find that Finnick isn’t hiding too far away. You follow him into an empty hallway.

He takes in a breath, “I heard that you sell potions.”

“Yup.” You stop a few feet away, “Who told you about me?”

“Annie. She said that you’d be able to help me.” He says.

Your eyebrows twitch, “What are you trying to fix?”

“Well, it hasn’t happened just yet. Hufflepuff could win the quidditch cup next game, and I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.” He runs a hand through his hair.

You know what he’s looking for. He wants Felix Felicis—liquid luck. It’ll ensure that everything he does in the game works in his favor so that they win. The only issue is that you don’t sell liquid luck to the quidditch players because it’s a sport aimed for talent, and it’s cheating. It’s the same reason why you didn’t take it before your tryout, it’s unfair.

You can feel your face fall, already beginning to shake your head to tell him no. He must’ve known this was coming, because he clasps his hands together.

“Please, (Y/n). I don’t want to lose this game.”

“And I understand that, but I don’t sell to quidditch players. It seems like Annie already told you I was going to say no, anyway. So why are you bothering?” You cross your arms.

“Because I thought you’d understand the pressure to succeed.” He says, “Everyone is expecting me to get the snitch, and there’s no way I stand a chance against slytherin. They crush hufflepuff every year.”

You almost want to tell him it’s a talent issue, but that’s a sure way to get on the bad side of Finnick. That’s the last thing you want, considering he’s fairly popular in the hufflepuff house, and a lot of people would turn on you for it. Although, you’ve gotten mouthy with plenty of other quidditch players before, and they’ve never turned around and gotten you in trouble.

“Did you tell the other quidditch players that you were planning to ask me this?” You ask.

“No, I told them that you were going to lend me notes for potions.” He says.

You reach into your bag, pulling out your placebo potions notebook, the one you use for class. The real one you have is filled with every detail on how to make a perfect potion. If Snape ever had that in his hands, and found out that you were studying like that, you’d get questioned for it.

You hold it out for him, “Here.”

“Please, I’ll do anything.” He says, taking your hand in his, “I’ll pay extra, if that’s what you want.”

“What I want is to not get in trouble because you’re reckless.” You raise your eyebrows, “So you’ll promise me that you will not breathe a word of this conversation to the professors. If they find out that I gave it to you, you’ll be banned from quidditch, and I’ll be in huge trouble.”

There’s a cute smile forming on his face, “I promise.”

“You’ll be paying triple the price because it’s last minute, and it’s against the rules.” You pull your hand away, “Felix Felicis takes six months to brew.”

“Thank you, (Y/n), I mean it.” He says.

“I’ll see you before the quidditch game on Saturday to give you the dosage so that you don’t kill yourself.” You give him a smile, “I want my notebook back after you win the game.”

“Sounds like a deal.”

—

You honestly thought that Finnick Odair had to be one of the most confident quidditch players you’d seen in your life. While everyone else hesitates when it comes to the snitch, he never does. He’s always on top of searching, even if there’s nothing to look for at the moment.

He might think that he doesn’t stand a chance against slytherin’s seeker, but he’s the reason why the hufflepuff team does. If it weren’t for him, they would’ve lost the last game that was played against gryffindor. The gryffindor’s had scored so many points against hufflepuff, and if they’d made another ball through the hoop, they could’ve won the game despite the fact that you guys caught the snitch.

There’s nothing scarier than being neck in neck with points. Gryffindor was behind by ten points, and right when they went to make another score, Finnick caught the snitch, letting you win by ten whole points. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a game that bad in a long time.

Besides, it’s not necessarily Finnick’s fault, it’s his teammates that are a bunch of dead weight. If they could block the hoops like they’re supposed to, then there wouldn’t be any close calls.

That’s why you’ve decided not to give him the potion.

Finnick comes around the corner, and you immediately reach into your bag to grab the vial of pumpkin juice you dyed to look like Felix Felicis. You don’t think he’s seen a genuine bottle in his life, but you wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t call you out for it.

“Hey,” He breathes, shaking his hands to get the nerves out. They’re supposed to play any minute now.

“Hey.” You smile, carefully pouring a tablespoon’s worth of pumpkin juice. He takes it from you, making a face as he downs it. And just in case he’s done his research, you pour him one more spoonful.

“Doesn’t taste very good.” He murmurs.

“I could’ve told you that.” You laugh, “Got a breath mint?”

“No time, I’m going to be smelling on the field anyway.” He pulls out the galleons from his pocket, dropping them into your hand, triple the payment, just like you asked. When he wins the game tonight, you’ll give it back and tell him the truth. “When does it take effect?”

“You should feel it soon.” You shrug, “I’ve never taken it myself, but that’s what everyone else says. You should get back to the field.”

“Will you be watching?”

“Yeah, I’ll be sitting with Annie and them. I’m sure you’ll see us.” You nudge him to get walking, “We’ll be cheering you on. Good luck!”

“Thank you!” He waves, and then jogs off.

You drop the galleons into your back, cap the pumpkin juice, and then head for the stands, where you’ll be sitting for the next few hours. At the top of the staircase, you find your friends, who have chosen front row seats to ensure they’ll be able to see you.

As soon as you sit down, Annie is turning to you, “You better hope that he wins, he’ll be pissed if he finds out. I’ve been hearing the slytherins are planning to be aggressive today.”

“They’re always aggressive. And he doesn’t need luck.” You hold onto your bag tighter, “I believe in him.”

The game starts when Professor McGonagall throws the ball into the air. The balls and the quidditch players are nothing but a blur as they zip around. As promised by Annie, the slytherin’s aren’t even trying to hide the fact that they’re borderlining breaking the rules.

From the very moment the game starts, you’re on the edge of your seat. The quidditch commentator keeps everyone up to date with the score because the balls are flying back and forth. The scores are continuously going up, without a hint of slowing down. The hufflepuffs will be in a fifty point lead, and then the slytherins will pull moves you haven’t seen before, and then they’re in the lead.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so into a quidditch game before. All the other times you got bored halfway through and opted to go brew potions to catch up on orders. You guess it’s different now, because it’s personal. You just shorted Finnick Odair out of liquid luck, and if he loses, he’ll know it, too.

He’s already acting differently out there, he’s doing more than he usually would, and it’s helping his teammates keep consistent, while he searches for the snitch. Hufflepuff is currently at a seventy point lead, if they caught the snitch now, you’d win. However, neither team has even seen the snitch yet.

Hufflepuff scores another ten points, and you watch as a few of the slytherin players share a look, which is the sign they’ve given each other to step up their game. It seems as if Hufflepuff has caught onto it, though, because it’s a tough match. The bludgers are hit back and forth at players, nearly causing several concussions. And no matter how many times they throw the quaffle, it never makes it past the hoops.

This goes on for thirty minutes, everyone is getting increasingly frustrated, which means that the game needs to be ended before someone actually ends up getting hurt. You can see Finnick searching, and then his head suddenly darts to the left, and he takes off.

“Yes!” You cheer, getting to your feet to peer over the stands. This causes the whole crowd to follow you, realizing that Finnick could win the hufflepuffs the cup.

Finnick chases the snitch in between stands, around the hoops, under beams. He disappears several times, and comes back, still pursuing the snitch. The slytherin seeker has caught onto this, and he tries to keep up with Finnick’s pace, but Finnick’s always been persistent.

The slytherin seeker gets too close, Finnick slams his foot into the girls’ broom, sending her spiraling away into the tarp that covers the stands. While she tries to recover from this setback, Finnick has gained another inch on the snitch.

When suddenly, he reaches forward, and grabs it.

“Hufflepuff has secured the snitch!” The commentator roars over the microphone, “The game has ended! Hufflepuff wins with four hundred points, while slytherin loses with two-hundred and fifty!”

Everyone in your section erupts into noise, celebrating Hufflepuff’s win. There’s cheering, a few stray whistles, clapping and stomping to show pride. Finnick finds you in the crowd, and points at you.

You laugh, and then turn to Annie, shaking her shoulder, “I told you!”

“I’m sorry for doubting you.” She mutters.

“I’ll see you in a few, we should go get butterbeers.” You tell her, starting down the aisle, “You know, to celebrate.”

“Let’s meet at the fountain!” She shouts, you give her a thumbs up.

You’re one of the first people out of the stands, allowing you to get to the bottom much faster. You can be in there forever, taking it one step at a time because people like to fuck around on the staircase.

The quidditch players have already cleared the field, so you hurry to go and find Finnick before you lose your chance. You’re sure that they’re all going to go and hang out together to celebrate, and you won’t be able to speak to him alone until tomorrow. It isn’t that big of a deal, but you’re sure the guilt’s got to be kicking in at any minute.

A hand grabs your wrist, yanking you back. You turn to shout, expecting it to be an angry slytherin, but you’re met face to face with Finnick, who’s as pale as a sheet.

“I shouldn’t have taken that.” He mutters, you look behind you to make sure no one’s coming before pushing him behind a corner to talk to him.

“Finnick—”

“What was I thinking? What if they find out?” He runs a hand through his hair. His breath still smells like pumpkin juice. And he wasn’t wrong when he said that he’d smell, he needs a shower.

“Listen to me—” You start.

“Why would you sell that to me?” He asks.

“Finnick!” You grab his arms, “It wasn’t Felix Felicis, I lied to you.”

He stares at you for a long second, blinks once, and then his eyebrows push inward, “What?”

“I gave you dyed pumpkin juice, I didn’t give you the real thing.” You tell him, reaching into your bag to pull out what he paid you. You take his hand and drop the galleons into his palm, “I’m not stupid enough to break the rules like that.”

He shakes his head, “You gave me pumpkin juice? What if I lost?”

You beam, “I knew you could do it without the luck, Finnick. You’re a talented seeker, you don’t need potions to win games. Did you see yourself out there? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play better!”

Finnick laughs, “A placebo effect.”

“No, your true potential!” You smile, “I’m sorry for lying to you, but I couldn’t go through with it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Do you have any plans?”

“Yeah, Annie and I are going to go to the Three Broomsticks.”

“Would you mind if I joined you?” He asks.

You shake your head, “No, I wouldn’t.”

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somanyerikas · 3 years ago

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Nostalgia sells - or does it? About BBC’s rehiring of a previous showrunner for Doctor Who as a marketing strategy

All, right, this is the one where I deal with my issues about RTD’s rehiring from the standpoint of BBC’s business strategy . Brace for passive agression, swearwords, brief history of british television and numbers. So, so many numbers.

Allright, so I already wrote a post about my problem with RTD’s (re)hire from the creative standpoint (it’s here in case you’re interested), but hey, I can bitch about it all I want, but we all know what caused the BBC to make this decision, right? You’ve heard about it for sure. The Dropping Ratings. You’ve read about it on so many posts, lots of them probably oh-so-gladly conflating this fact with their own opinion about the deteriorating quality of the show. (Don’t worry, we’ll get to that.) So Obviously the execs at the Big BBC Quarters needed to do something about it, and what better way to go than rehire a guy who’s run at Doctor Who is a warm childhood memory for so many in it’s fanbase? After all, it’s what we’re seeing nowadays: from Star Wars return to wave of 80′s nostalgia to every old blockbuster star doing a comeback, there is but a single conclusion - nostalgia sells.

Or does it?

Part One: Moving with the change; or very much refusing to.

Let’s start this off with some facts about the ratings for Doctor Who. (Well, I warned you there’s gonna be numbers, didn’t I. Stick with me, I’m going somewhere with this I promise.) In it’s beginnings, in the sixties and seventies , the series flown high, averaging a viewership from 8 up to 10 million viewers per season. Collin Baker’s series 17 brought in a record of 11.21 milion viewer asses in front of a good ol’ TV screen, real champagne opener here. But, as it happens, things were downhill from here. During the eighties, the rating started dropping steadily, reaching an all-time low of 4.15 milion couch-warming bottoms in 1989, the last season of the classic era.

Years passed, 16 of those years to be exact, and here comes our saviour RTD. Under his wings, the revived series premiered, bringing in over 10 milion viewers to the premiere episode of season 1, Rose. A viewership this high did not last for long, but still, RTD’s seasons averaged between 7 and 8 milion viewers per season, which seemed pretty respectable. But then, as the story likes to repeat itself, not unlike the bbc execs just did, along came the decline again. Ever since 2010, the ratings began steadily dropping again, from 7.95 in 2010 to 5.46 in 2017. Then DW experienced an unexpected peak in 2018 with the premiere of Jodie Whittaker’s first season, which averaged 7.96 viewing asses, but then continued the dropping trend on the next season, averaging 5.40 viewing butts.

So what went wrong?

You see, part of the reason that Doctor Who was bringing in such great viewership numbers in the 60′s and 70′s, was that, to put it simply, BBC did not have much competition. Or, to be exact, only had one competitor. ITV was literally founded in order to break BBC’s monopoly over British television. But in the 80′s, with the launch of Channel 4 and Sky, the british viewers had more and more options to choose from. So logically speaking, they no longer had to watch BBC’s programming just because there was nothing else on. There was more and more new programes to boredom-watch. And here’s something y’all need to know about the tv industry: the boredom-watchers, the casuals? That’s the most important demographic. As hard as it might be to swallow, us hardcore fans, forum dwellers and Ao3 gremlins, we’re not as big of a group as we’d like to think. Loving fans are important to the tv execs as providers of word-of-mouth advertisment, but the real numbers come from the casual, everyday viewer who will just put on the next episode cause the other one was kinda fun I guess. Or more fun than the other options, anyway.

And this is why, by the way, when someone is conflating low viewership with the show Dissapointing The Fans, they’re full of shit. I’m sorry, but we’re really not that much of a force here, definitely not enough to make such a big impact on the numbers. Another factor, that some of you probably noticed already, is that the numbers I’m quoting are from british tv only, while the online fandom is very much international, so our opinions matter even less to the british execs, I’m sorry again, hard pill to swallow I know, but true nonetheless.

But I digress. So, to sum up the previous paragraph, Doctor Who’s viewership decline in the 80′s was the effect of the changing landscape of the TV industry, with which the BBC struggled to come to terms with.

Sound familiar?

Let’s move on to the 2010′s, shall we?

2010 was is actually a good marker of a year to choose, because it marks one important thing that begun a big change in the industry. This was the year in which Netflix expanded their services overseas, from being a DVD rental company to providing VOD services. Over the next decade streaming services grew in importance, from being an add-on to your cable TV that you didn’t really want but they were throwing it in for cheap, to very much self-sustainable media services you might very well buy instead of buying the cable. And if you look at the numbers for Doctor Who viewership declining over the last 10 years, that’s precisely what’s been happening. It’s not that people don’t want to watch Doctor Who on tv, they don’t want to watch tv in general. Do you know what was the most popular channel in Britain this year? Can you guess? Fucking Netflix that’s what. It’s just slowly-yet-steadily ceasing to be the way we use home entertainment anymore. Again, not much to do with the audience approval, because for that matter, let’s see about the specific episodes that saw the spikes in viewership.

Rose, which i mentioned at the start of it, was for the longest time the unquestionable queen when it comes to viewership, at 10.81 milion. The next episode, The End of the World, pulled in 7.97 - almost 3 millions worth of lost viewer-butts in one week? Is it because it was so much worse than it’s predecessor? No, it simply did not have the smell of Newness, the Event You Must See, and as such brought forth less of the casual viewers who were simply curious about The New Thing. The next season followed the similar formula, peaking at the premiere, when the marketing was at it’s strongest, going down during the season, sometimes rising slightly for the finale, sometimes not. The most popular episodes are, of course, the specials - yet again, the vibe of The Event To Be Seen worked here, but one more thing working to their advantage is they often aired in spaces between seasons, serving as both a long-waited Crumbs of Content for the fans, and the basically stand-alones for the casuals. Do you know what the single most watched episode of revived DW is? No, it’s not Tennant’s goodbye with the role (yeah I know, I thought it had to be that as well). It was Voyage of the Damned, between seasons 3 and 4. The perfect standalone for the casual watcher. And last but not least, you know one more special feature that brought, maybe not as much, but definitely more than expected? The 1996 movie Doctor Who, with 9.08 million. Again, a perfect standalone.

But the standalones aren’t the only way to grab the viewership. The currently-highest viewing non-special episode of DW? The Woman Who Fell to Earth, Jodie Whittaker’s introduction. In 2018 no less, in the year when the streaming was the ruler supreme, this episode brought a whooping 10.96 million buts to the good ol’ TV again. Let me reiterate: this episode brought in more viewers than Rose did in 2005, while having WAY more competition and way less favorable circumstances of release that RTD’s debiut did. Not only that, it managed to bring on some numbers for the entire season as well, not as good of course as the premiere (because again, the Event vibes faded), but still brought a better average than the last six seasons did. (Again, let me reiterate: more than the last SIX seasons. More viewership than any series since 2010, since the Streaming Wars.) So clearly, this must be the way, right? Catering to this Weird New Trend, that saw directors notice there do in fact exist other actors than white men, that surely brought in some profit, even Marvel does it now, right? Out with the old, in with the new!

Part 2 The Deceitful Charm of Nostalgia

Well, it turns out the whole Doing New Things deal didn’t work out that well after all, now did it? The second season penned by Chibbnal averaged 5.40 milion, that’s 2.5 million drop from the previous one! It must mean it didn’t work, right? Well, yes and no. As much as the refreshment of the formula as simple as Let’s Put A Woman In It absolutely worked for one season, it very visibly did not hold up for longer. An Event-Episode is something that can still happen on TV, Event-Series? That’s pretty much reserved for streaming now, if you think about it, and it’s honestly kind of a miracle that Series 11 did as well as it had. Two consecutive Event-Series on network tv? Flat out impossible.

So how to make those ratings great again? How to get those butts in seats of the Good Ol’? Well, the execs of the BBC have a plan for that. They brought in a devouring beast, and it’s name is: Nostalgia.

Without a doubt, there is a number of people who feel nostalgic about RTD’s era of Doctor Who. It’s a lot of people’s fond childhood memory, or the series they started with, and judging by the numbers, there should be quite a lot of them. So the new plan, as it appears, is to get to those who maybe lost interest in the show and lure them with the promise of the thing That Is Totally Like The Thing You Used To Love, Remember? (This is why I don’t actually think that RTD will be allowed to do anything new and interesting, that’s not what they hired him for. And that’s why I think this is bad from the creative standpoint.) So there are two questions here: One, will the people be lured? And two, for how long?

Nostalgia as a marketing strategy is something that you’re probably sick of seeing already (I know I am). But it has very much been effective on many levels, especially the eighties-baiting, Stranger Things style, can bring a new IP up to relevance. But what about old IP’s that want to have a comeback?

It’s kind of dificult to find another TV show that I could compare to Doctor Who. Most series that have been running for that long are mostly soap operas, that operate on slightly different rules, and are also targeted to a different audience. So as much as the movie series is still not exactly the best comparison, when I think about a big IP, campy sci-fi, family-oriented (at least in theory) on its path back to relevance, I think about Star Wars, obviously. The Force Awakens gambled on that nostalgic feeling and won big, but the next two movies, while still financially successful, were nowhere near the astounding success of the first one. And that’s because - you guessed it - it created the Event You Must See again, The Great Comeback, but merely two years later, the comeback became old news. So what we can gain from that is that nostalgia can create an Event as well as a new trend, if not better. But the question remains: how long will that last?

That is, after all, the main difference between a movie franchise and a TV series in the traditional, network TV sense of the word: movie franchise must bring in the viewership every year or two, and TV series must bring in viewers every week for at least two months. Is RTD’s Nostalgia Vibes enough to provide for that?

I’ll say this: I’m absolutely certain that the 60th anniversary will be very popular. I still don’t think it will break any records because, as I’ve been trying to explain for this whole post, it is not 2007 anymore no matter how much the tv execs would like it to be. But ironically, the almost-certain success of the special is the very thing that could undermine the effect of bringing their precious Nostagia Boi back onboard. Remember, the first Event Episode is The Big Oof. That’s the one that gets asses to the Good Ol’, if anything ever does. After the first big event one, that’s the point when things start going down. They’re wasting their Special Event Boi for something that already would be an event, dear fucking gods, I hate your plan and I would still execute it better. Either have RTD be the Anniversary Guy and then hire someone new, use that hype and keep it going, OR have RTD come in after the anniversary, then at least you get the Event Effect for the premiere of his first return season. Fukin’ amateurs.

But even if they did that, here’s the thing: do you think that the people who departed from the show years ago actually want to watch another three to five seasons of The RTD Show? I mean, I’m sure the thought warmed some hearts, for sure. A number of people will definitely gladly watch the anniversary, probably the first few episodes of the first return to the basics, but after that? In the world when, due to streaming, they have an easy way to revisit the actual thing they’re nostalgic towards? I honestly don’t think so. And you’re not really gonna get many new people by going back, if that nostalgia factor isn’t there. And then there’s casual viewers, the backbone, as we established. And here’s the thing: lots of those people don’t even know who the current showrunner is, cause they’re not Terminally Online like we are, and the second thing? Lots of those people ARE JUST NOT WATCHING NETWORK TV, IM SORRY GARRY. They’re just. They’re just not. I don’t know how to spell it out better. Even my mum has netflix now. Your biggest base is in another castle mate, gotta get moving and gotta get moving quick, cause here’s another thing: all the nostalgia in the world will not do SHIT for you if your target, people who were kids/teens when the RTD era was airing, PROBABLY DON’T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING TV ANYMORE CAUSE THEY MOVED OUT OF THEIR PARENTS FLAT AND LOTS OF YOUNG PEOPLE JUST DON’T BOTHER. Just. I’m sorry but you’re trying to resuscitate a decade-deceased corpse there buddy. It just won’t work. The times have changed and you gotta swim or drown, and it’s just not gonna be 2005 again, no matter how hard you pretend it is. It’s not your content it’s your business model. Just push more marketing for your iplayer or whatever, focus on streaming as your primary not your secondary cause that’s just what it is now, and maybe don’t rely on the viewer-counting systems of the yesteryear to evaluate your business. Or else you’re gonna get stuck sacrificing the creative growth of your show for a marketing strategy that probably won’t even fucking WORK.

There, I got it of my chest. Feel free to reblog, and also: you somehow got to the end of this, congrats! I’ll make numbers nerds out of y’all yet.

#it's like. my sister and I were #watching a movie lately. the one with multiple will smiths and the de-aging tech #(don't recommend it it's real boring)#but when Youngened Will Smith appeared on the screen my sister got my spiting my tea laughing by innocently saying:#"oh i don't know this actor. it's nice that they're giving opportunities to the young actors. great to see a new face in the biz''#and u know what #this rehire is the same fucking vibe to me #some cunts from marketing plastering make-up to an old man's face and pretending its 2005 still #anyway #doctor who #i guess.

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cno-inbminor · 4 years ago

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domus

a/n: here we have another short drabble dump! i wrote this up very quickly -- i’m still working on that long fic i’ve been talking about! i apologize for taking so long to put it together. pls take this short fic as an apology for now. stay hydrated, wear your masks, and be safe! love you all so dearly <3

plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else.

characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi

wc: ~3.7k, will probably have other parts in the future.

genre/warnings: angst with dashes of fluff; mentions of alcohol

pt. 2 | pt. 3

edit: now crossposted to AO3!

When you’re in love, you spend weeks and months wondering why time won’t stop. You sit and ponder over why you’ll have to die someday and leave behind the person you’ve dedicated your entire soul to, or what might happen if your death came early and you didn’t get to say goodbye. You wonder why the seasons seem to pass you by so quickly, that in the blink of an eye, you go from enjoying a cup of iced tea on the porch to holding a mug of hot chocolate inside watching snowflakes swirl in their journeys to the ground.

But when love ceases to exist, time seems to stop. The days drag for longer, the seasons crawl at a turtle’s pace, and the inevitable end feels less terrifying. You no longer fear the eventual sagging of your skin or the spider legs that grow at the corners of your eyes. You no longer cling onto a hope that there will be a lover’s hand holding yours at your bed of eternal sleep. You simply become, just you. Solitary, single, independent you.

It’s no longer you and someone else. The realization stings so badly that it physically hurts you, a whimper leaving your throat. You shakily reach over for the next blouse and fight back the tears, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. The skin is chapped and broken to the point that you would need layers and layers of chapstick to save any semblance of it, a terrible habit that you wish you hadn’t possessed. It’s muscle memory, the way you fold the blouse in half, fold the sleeves in, bending it over your arm before it lands in a neat stack of other tops in your suitcase. Your eyes take a glance at the clock, and you gather you have about another hour before you needed to leave for the airport and make it on time for your flight.

You ignore the male figure hunched over on the edge of your bed, tuning out his pleas and broken promises. He begs you to give him time, to implore that it’s all his fault and he’ll make it work for the two of you. Tetsuro promises that he didn’t mean to and that it wasn’t anything you did, but you feel so empty inside that you can’t even find the energy to argue, to turn on him and say that he was pretending to take all the blame so it’d be a better explanation to all your friends. A relationship involves both parties, and while there were special exceptions, this wasn’t one of them. Something was clearly wrong with you, and you were okay with that. You were just tired of Testuro attempting to take everything onto himself.

“I thought it’d be best to come clean with you,” he says, throat hoarse from lack of hydration. “I know you would question it and I haven’t done anything, I swear, I know you’re amazing and don’t deserve to live a lie and—”

“Do you want me to say ‘thank you’?” You interjected quietly, morosely. Your hands slide open the underwear drawer and take out a week’s worth of underwear, bras, and bralettes. “Do you want me to express my gratitude in your honesty for telling me that you don’t love me anymore? You can easily buy a trophy online and make the inscription yourself. ‘Most honest man alive’? Is that what you want?” You ask, tone flat and not possessing the least bit of amusement and humor.

“Can’t you give me some time? I’ll try, I’ll try to figure out what went wrong, and I can love you again. We can still get married and everything, but please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving forever, Tetsu. I’m just gone for a week, maybe more.”

“Where are you even going?”

“That’s none of your business,” you quickly reply, defenses back up as you make a beeline for the bathroom. You pick up all the toiletries you can, the ones that would be allowed in your carry-on. Strangers won’t care about your missing skincare routine and your complexion not looking its best.

“What if you get lost? Or kidnapped? What if people ask—”

“Easy. Just tell them I had a last minute business trip, family emergency, whatever floats your boat.”

“Can’t you see that I’m trying? I—”

“This isn’t just about you!” You snap, whirling around to look at him for the first time in the last hour or so. Testuro notices with a pang in his heart that your cheeks have sunken in slightly since he broke his revelation to you just last week, the eye circles darker than ever. But your eyes are soulless, dead, no shine or spark that he’d wake up to every morning even muddled with sleep.

“You can’t just expect me to be okay and continue to bend over backwards for you without question. The least you could do is give me my time, give me some space to think about all of it. That’s the bare minimum.”

And with that, you zip your suitcase shut, grab your passport (even though you probably don’t need it), keys, wallet, and phone, and walk as quickly as you can to the front door. The scheduled Uber will arrive in just a few minutes, and as you slip into a pair of flats, you can hear the creak of the bed and Testuro’s padded steps nearing you.

“Just be careful, okay? Call me if you need anything, anything. You’re still one of the most important people to me, so just – text me at some point. Let me know you’re alive at least.”

“You need to rest. You’re on call tomorrow,” you digress while opening the door.

“(Y/n)—”

“I’ll text you. Promise.”

And the door shuts behind you.

Your relationship with Akaashi Keiji is…hard to explain. In fact, you’re not even sure what to refer him as in your life. Anytime you spoke of him or attempted to explain, you’d fumble over words and draw blanks. While it was irritating and aggravating at times, you learned to just accept it.

Akaashi Keiji was the neighbor down the street, two years older, and someone who had known you since you were 8. Your moms were attached at the hip not longer after you moved to Tokyo, and that meant holidays were spent together, impromptu get-togethers and dinners were a common occurrence, and you saw him frequently at school. He was a quiet soul, gentle, but reserved. In fact, most of the things you knew about him were secondhand conversations from your mother talking about the family, because honestly his mom was basically your second mom now, and your mother trusted you with everything. His past, his troubles, his personality all relayed through your mom from his own, and when you saw him in the hallways, he wasn’t much of an enigma to you. Many other girls had found the mysterious air around him to be attractive, that the pretty setter who only ever smiled around his volleyball team and kept a tight circle of friends had something significant beneath the layers.

Keiji grew up with you, playing Smash on the Wii to pass time as your parents gossiped away. Sometimes, you’d play an intense game of Monopoly with him, a game that typically tipped in his favor. He never said much about himself, always relayed more about others that overlapped in your lives. The most he ever spoke to you about was when it came to teachers at school, even giving you some of his old notes and pointers. But even you could tell that he kept his guards up, and you wondered if he even classified you as a friend.

Your go-to explanation of Keiji’s standing in your life was a family friend. But that insinuated you were close with him, which you weren’t at all. No matter how many times he walked home with you (mainly at the pushing from his mother), no matter how many times he was forced to entertain you at dinners and holidays, no matter how many times he gave you a small smile in school, there was such a large gap between the two of you. He always seemed so different around his team, like they had the privilege of knowing the real him, and at times, you felt…jealous.

And the weird thing is that you can rely on him somehow – whether it be because he’d get an earful from his parents if he didn’t help you when you asked it or out of the goodness of his heart, he was simply always there. Sometimes, you were bold enough to text him about a show he talked about in the past, and he would reply quickly as if your unexpected, rare text about something benign didn’t faze him at all.

Yet despite the distance, despite the lack of any semblance of an actual friendship with him, he was the first one you thought of when all this happened. He was the one you wanted to see – maybe it’s because he was the closest thing to home, and you didn’t want to go back to your parents explaining everything. It’s been a while since you’ve been back in Tokyo, ever since you moved to Sapporo for your job and Testuro got matched for a residency at a hospital there.

At 7PM on a Friday afternoon, past the baggage claim with the sunset beaming in through the sliding glass doors, you stare at Keiji’s contact on your phone, thumb hovering hesitantly over the call button. You could count the number of times you’ve called him on one hand, but this was an emergency, right? Is this why your heart is pounding against your chest, so anxious that you feel like you’ll break into a cold sweat any time soon?

You jump into the deep end.

Your hand nervously brings the phone to your ear, waiting with bated breath as the dial tone echoes in the chamber of your brain. Part of you wants him to miss the call so you can avoid this awkward conversation, but another part of you desperately wants him to pick up as if he’ll be able to save you.

Oh god oh god oh god, you panic as the tone stops, there’s a pause, a rustle, and then a hesitant, “—Hello?”

You didn’t plan this out. You’re not ready for this. Shit, what are you supposed to say?

“—hello? (Y/n)?”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

Wow, you’re a terrible conversationalist.

“…um, I haven’t actually. I was about to warm up some leftovers?”

Your eyes focus on the taxis driving by, picking up passengers as they get waved down. Maybe you should just find a cheap hotel nearby, continue this conversation tomorrow.

“Well…I’m in town, actually. I just landed about 30 minutes ago and realized I didn’t have anywhere to go and I don’t really want to call anyone else and I don’t exactly know who else to call so I just, um, thought about calling you and asking if you’ve had dinner? Which if you’re busy and stuff, that’s totally fine, I should’ve texted you beforehand instead of springing this on you and—”

“(Y/n), it’s okay, alright? It’s okay. I’m not busy, so you can stop by. Did my mom ever give you my address?”

Keiji’s brief attempt to calm you down works, surprisingly. You allow yourself to take a deep breath despite the stale airport air, but it was some much-needed oxygen. This is going to be okay, Keiji doesn’t hate you quite yet.

“N-no, she never did.”

“That’s fine, I’ll text it to you. My place is about 30 minutes from the airport, I’d recommend getting a taxi instead of an Uber. I’ll order some delivery—”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“You still like the miso ramen from that shop not far from your house, right? They opened up a second store not far from where I live.”

How did he remember that? You’re pretty sure your own mother had forgotten that fact by now.

“Y-yeah, I do,” you smile to yourself. “I still think about it sometimes.”

“Sounds good then. Get here safely then.”

“Okay. Thank you loads again. I’m sorry for all this—”

“Don’t worry about it. Keep me updated, see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Not 30 seconds later, a text arrives to your phone with an address, a keycode for getting past the main door, and other relevant instructions.

Keiji’s apartment is exactly as you expect it to be – prim, proper, neat almost to a fault, with minimalist decorations. The apartment complex he lives in is rather high-end, if the security guards standing outside the main entrance indicated anything. You almost feel completely out of place or like a bug on the wall as you step in after him, a rather comfortable silence between the two of you. His kitchen is spotless and almost sparkles back at you, and the only thing that seems out of place are the containers of your ramen he so kindly ordered for you.

“Your place is really nice, it’s really…you,” you comment, setting your stuff down at the door. Keiji indulges you with a quiet laugh, making sure that there wasn’t anything that would be in your way. His glasses are perched on his head, an old monochrome t-shirt on his shoulders and sweatpants hung low on his hips, yet in this apartment that almost seems like it should be in an interior design magazine, he looks at home. His ethereal beauty, the softness in his eyes, the gentle up-turned strands of his hair – he belonged here.

“The ramen came not too long ago, so it’s still hot. I’ll go ahead and put it together, you can put your jacket on the couch.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Instead, you fold your jacket over your suitcase and quietly make your way into the apartment. Straight across from you are doors to a balcony – darkness had long taken over the city, so you see nothing but your reflection at first. But as you near the plexiglass, the reflection disappears into the view and you almost gasp from the beauty of it.

Blinking lights, flashing billboards, and the brightly lit Tokyo Skytree peer back at you. It only hits you now how much you’ve missed home, and that even though Sapporo was one of the largest cities in Japan, it still wasn’t Tokyo.

“I never get tired of it,” Keiji chimes in while carrying your bowl of ramen to the dining table.

“It’s an amazing view, I can see why you’d live here,” you reply while moving away from it. The table also has two empty wine glasses, and just as you’re about to ask him why they were there, he returns with a newly opened bottle of chardonnay.

“I haven’t had a lot of time to restock the wine fridge, but I knew I was going to kick myself for not having a bottle of that dessert wine we had before you went off to college,” he said with mirth and amusement. “You remember that one?”

“Yeah,” you nearly splutter, almost flushing that once again, Keiji was remembering details about you that you didn’t even know. “Your mom wanted to throw me a graduation dinner and you made it back in time after finals. And she had a bottle of it and between the two of us, we probably drank most of it. Our parents said it was too sweet.”

He nods and sits across from you, elbows on the table as you mutter, “Itadakimasu,” and start eating. You finish your meal silently for the most part, making small talk here and there. Keiji refills both of your glasses and the two of you sip the wine demurely, and while he seems okay with the lack of an explanation, you’re struggling to find the right words.

“So what’s with the impromptu trip to Tokyo? Are you going to see your parents?”

“Should I try to lie to you?”

“It’s up to you.”

Oh, okay then.

But he looks expectant, as if he knows you wouldn’t lie to him – in fact, you’ve never lied to him before. There was never any need to, but did that just mean neither of you ever cared enough?

“Something happened with me and Testuro. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but at the end of the day…I just needed to get away, as cliché as it sounds,” you laugh brokenly. Keiji continues to carefully observe you with a stare that you can’t escape. “I don’t want to tell my parents – you know them, they’ll ask a million questions. Without thinking, I booked a ticket to Tokyo and…now I’m here.”

That was a lie. How are you supposed to tell Keiji that he was the first person you thought of in an effort to run away? You and Keiji have never gotten personal before, he made sure of that. The last thing you want to do is weird him and scare him off.

“…did he cheat on you?” Keiji asked. His voice is darker in his inquiry, deeper than you’ve ever heard before. He has his hands folded in front of his lips and his eyes harden. Testuro may be an old friend to him, but you were in his life longer.

“Nonononono,” you quickly wave off. This isn’t the time to slander your…boyfriend? Could Tetsuro still even be your boyfriend if he no longer has any feelings for you? “Nothing like that.”

“That’s good to hear. If you want, you can tell me another time then. You’re welcome to stay here until you go back to Sapporo.”

You look up at him, eyes incredulous. Could Keiji really be this comfortable with you?

“I wouldn’t mind staying tonight, but I can stay in a hotel for the rest of the week that I’m here.”

“Nonsense,” Keiji refutes, standing from the table and taking your wine glasses to the sink. You follow with your bowl and he starts washing them before you can even offer. “Mom would kill me if she knew I let you pay for a hotel when I have a perfectly functioning bed you can stay in.”

“I mean, if it’s not a bother…”

“It’s not. The futon’s pretty comfortable, I’ve definitely fallen asleep on it plenty of times.”

“We can switch, I would never let you sleep on the futon for a whole week.”

“If you say so then. But for tonight, you can take my bed. Let me grab you an extra towel so you can shower. I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” he says while drying everything off, folding the kitchen towel neatly before heading off to his room. He returns with a large, soft grey towel and you shyly take it from him with a word of thanks, but he stays there in front of you, waiting for something.

“I’m really glad you picked up the phone,” you whisper softly, feeling the effects of the alcohol. You’re entering uncharted territory for the two of you, and this could either kill or strengthen this odd distant friendship. “I meant it when I said I didn’t know who else to call. You were the first person that came to mind and just…I don’t want to make this weird, like you can kick me out,” you begin to ramble. “Don’t feel like you’re obligated to take me in because your mom would be disappointed if you wouldn’t, you’ve already put up with me for over 15 years and it’s fine, I can be on my own and—”

Smooth, calloused hands delicately hold your face, large palms and nimble fingers cupping your cheeks. Your words die on your tongue as Keiji stares straight into your eyes, holding your gaze until your breathing calms down to a steady, languid pace. “You’re my friend, (y/n). So it’s good that you called me.”

“I’m your…friend?” You ask unsteadily, feeling a sense of disbelief.

“Yeah,” he confirms with the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now go shower.”

“Okay.”

You’re fast asleep before Keiji finishes his own shower, his bedroom door left ajar as the hallway light beams through. He pauses in the midst of drying his hair with a towel, letting it bunch and hang off his neck as he cautiously pushes the door open. Keiji notices your even breathing and how much more relaxed you look in sleep. You’re curled up on your side with the blanket pulled up to your face and he can’t lie: it’s adorable and cute, and he shouldn’t really be thinking these things.

He sits on the edge of the bed in the little space that’s provided, lithe fingers reaching out to brush back a few stray wisps of your hair. Watching you sleep pulls him back into a fond memory he’s kept of the two of you, one that might’ve held very little significance to you but meant something so much more to him. He knows you know him well, he knows how much his mother babbles on about him, and adults were more prone to gossip than the rowdiest of teenagers – he’d be painfully oblivious if he didn’t think you knew that much about him, or more than the average friend.

But it’s comforting to him, sometimes. Knowing you, how kindly you think of others, he might not have to explain what he’s feeling in the moment. You would be able to know, and that soothes him to some degree.

Maybe he had a little bit too much wine as well, but ever so subtly, motions steady and unhurried, he deftly leans closer and closer until his lips brush the apple of your cheek. He lingers for no more than a few seconds and sits back up, gazing at you before standing. His hands adjust the blankets and make sure you’re properly tucked in. He pads away, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible as to not wake you.

And when he’s found a comfortable position on the futon with his most comfortable throw blanket, he realizes, begrudgingly, that this week will fly by too fast for his liking.

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batsandbugs · 4 years ago

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Bats Bugs and Boomerangs Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone, coming at you with another series! This is actually for a late secret santa gift exchange! My recipient was @m3owww! Her fandoms were Maribat and Avatar the Last Airbender, so I thought: Why not both? She already had a Maribat characters in the show type fic, so I created a fic where they watched the show. It slowly spiraled out of control though, so this is Chapter 1. I’ll eventually have the batfam (and Marinette) react to the whole series, so comment here and on ao3 what you want to see. So Phi, this is kinda like the gift that will keep on giving? Maybe? I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy!

Our story begins on a frosty winter evening, outside Gotham at Wayne Manor. Marinette sat in the library working on an assignment for her History of Fashion class. She was alone, because Damian, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were out on patrol, with Barbara on comms. Tikki, unless eating or involved with a transformation, spent her time sleeping due to the freezing weather. While the other Kwami either resided in the box or roamed the grounds, and generally stayed out of the human's way.

Marinette gazed out the window, snow falling softly through the air, covering the ground and the tree branches. A crackling fire warmed the room. She shifted, and a painful ache shot through her leg. Marinette glared at the offending appendage, which was the reason she wasn’t out with the team tonight.

Her Miraculous could cure any injury sustained on the battlefield, it didn’t help her one bit when it came to her own natural clumsiness. She hadn’t paid attention as she’d walked out of class one evening. The dim lighting hid a black ice patch and she slipped and fell. Thankfully, her ankle was only sprained and not broken, but she would be out of commission for at least two weeks. Probably more if Alfred got his way.

Speaking of the elderly butler, he strode into the room carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

“Good evening Miss. Marinette. Need another refreshment?”

She sighed at the cold coffee dregs in her mug. “That would be nice, thank you, Alfred.”

He hummed, grabbing a teacup, and pouring her a serving. “How does your leg feel today? I notice you were leaning heavily on Master Damian after supper.” He handed the cup to her and the warmth was a welcome sensation for her chilled hands.

“Yeah, he’s been nice helping me around.” Nice was a misnomer, more like extremely overprotective. He point-blank refused for her to stay at her own apartment, mostly due to its location on the fourth floor with no elevator access. He all but forced her to watch him pack her essentials to bring to the manor while she recovered. Since then, his attentiveness in ensuring she had what she needed within reach and helping her to class had grown. It was a tad smothering considering his usual aloofness, but she enjoyed his actions for the affection it implied.

“It’s throbbing and hot and feels worse than it did three days ago.” She took a tiny sip of the tea and relaxed into its spiced aroma. Alfred made the best tea.

He nodded. “It will feel uncomfortable for a while until it starts to mend. Just continue to rest and remain off it and you will be back to carousing around the city like the rest of them in no time.” He poured his own tea and seated himself in the plush armchair across from her spot on the couch.

“Oh, Alfred you say that as if you would not be right there along with us if age allowed,” said Marinette with a grin. The stories Dusu could recount about the elderly miraculous holder were nothing short of entertaining, and she knew damn well Alfred had the same need for action as the rest of the Waynes and their assorted allies.

“I’d do nothing of the sort,” he said primly, taking a sip of his tea to hide the tiny smirk on his face. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant silence. Despite the pain in her leg Marinette pushed through it and finished her assignment, while Alfred read until it neared time when patrol ended. He bustled up the remains of the tea and promise her a fresh cup when he finished seeing everyone arrive safely.

Later, although she could not say how long, she was buried deep in a book and didn’t notice when Damian entered the room until he sat next to her on the couch.

“Good evening angel.” His hair flopped in his eyes, loose and damp from the shower. In his hands, he held a tray with two cups of steaming tea.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered cup of tea with a smile. “How was patrol?”

“Boring,” he sighed. “You certainly are not missing anything.” If he wouldn’t have taken offense to it, Marinette would have described the look on his face as a pout.

“What about the drug seller Tim tracked to the lower docks?”

Damian shrugged. “Gone silent after we busted the last shipment. Seventeen years in and maybe the criminals finally figured out committing crimes in the same city as a relentless vigilante team is a bad idea,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from giggling. It was a common joke among the family that Gotham’s criminals never learned.

“I think it means we’re doing our job right,” said Tim walking in with a steaming mug. Marinette opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t worry, it’s decaf.”

“Like Pennyworth would let him drink anything else this time of night,” scoffed Damian, while taking a sip of his tea.

“I’m perfectly capable of monitoring my own caffeine intake, thanks,” Tim said in offense, seating himself across from the couch in the reading chair previously abandoned by Alfred.

“No, you’re not,” called a voice from the hallway. Dick walked in with a large mug of what was undoubtedly hot chocolate. “The last time he didn’t check your drink after patrol, you used coffee instead of water to brew another pot, and then added four whole bottles of five-hour energy. You didn’t sleep for three days.”

“I also solved five crimes, figured out where the Penguin was hiding, and streamlined the dropbox submission system for Wayne Industries. Life requires tradeoffs.”

“No that’s just you, ignoring basic human necessities. Anyway, besides Tim’s caffeine addiction, what are we talking about?” asked Dick.

“The reason for the lack of crime,” offered Marinette.

Dick shrugged, “Happens every year because of the weather. Even criminals get cold. They’ll return to their usual transgressions once the weather warms.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Tt. Weak,” muttered Damian.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Not everyone receives extreme weather training under threat of dismemberment, demon brat. We should take the opportunity to enjoy the break.”

“Tim, your version of a “break” involves paperwork,” chided Dick.

“It’s not my fault the rest of you people don’t have lives. I’m a remarkably busy person. And what is this, the-criticize-Tim-hour?”

“Oh, only an hour?” smirked Damian. “I thought it was a continuous event, one could choose to participate in whenever the mood struck. I will have to file all my complaints immediately.”

Tim pouted. “Marinette,” he whined. “Can’t you control him?”

She shrugged, “What do you expect me to do? I’m his girlfriend, not his minder. Besides, they criticize because they care.” She laughed when all three boys snarled their noses at the prospect of feelings.

“Marinette, angel, please; never say that again. I criticize because I am right, and they should know it. Not because of any high-minded ideals such as genuine affection.”

“Okay, okay, enough,” said Dick. “If we have a bit of a break, we should do something! Together, as a family. I think Cass and Steph come back in two days.”

“Grayson, just because your girlfriend is off-world visiting family and you have nothing to do does not mean it holds true for the rest of us.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Tim, “Except not quite, because I don’t have a girlfriend, but I just said I’m busy. R&D is rolling out a new prototype next week, and I have two board meetings scheduled and-”

“Not to mention,” Marinette cut Tim off. He could talk about his schedule forever because he just had that many events. “I can’t move around, what would we even do? Play games?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The list of games officially banned in our family includes, but is not limited to; Monopoly, Uno, Checkers, Risk, Risk: Legacy, Twister, Jenga, Clue, Guess Who, Poker, Chess, and Go Fish.”

“Oh…” muttered Marinette.

“And that doesn’t even include videogames.”

“After the Wii Bowling incident of 2013, the media room wall was never the same,” Dick said, shaking his head in despair.

“I actually apologized for that, okay?” exclaimed Damian. “Why do you always have to bring it up?”

Marinette fully intended to ask about the incident later. “Okay, so games are out.”

“Ooh,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “How about we call a Family T.V. Event?”

Tim groaned, “The last time we did that we blew up the shed, and got the police called.”

“Well, we won’t watch a crime show.” Dick turned to Marinette. “Jason picked; we watched Breaking Bad.”

“I can see how that would spiral out of control.”

“The time before that, we set fire to the media room and started a familial feud,” Damian pointed out. “Game of Thrones,” he added when Marinette looked to him for clarification.

“Even worse.”

“Okay, fine, so we don’t have the best track record picking shows. But I swear I have a good one this time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

Tim snorted. “What? Like the kid’s show?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Really Grayson, a cartoon? I know you are developmentally stuck at five, but not all of us are.”

“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve heard good things about it,” said Marinette. She knew there was a French translation of the show, but she preferred to watch media in its original language. Before moving to America, before dating Damian, her English had not been strong enough to confidently watch a show and understand all of it.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Dick. “I know you three and Cass haven’t seen it, and neither has Bruce or Alfred. I would bet Jason’s seen some of it, but I’ll have to check. Barbara and I have, but that’s fine, she loves the show. We’ll have to see about Steph too, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it regardless. There are awesome characters, battles, suspense, comedy, and it’s not likely going to inspire us to blow up the shed or tear each other to pieces!”

“I have in no way agreed to this Grayson. Drake back me up.”

Tim paused for a moment, stuck between his need to disagree with Damian and the need to get out of Dick’s crazy plan. Unfortunately for Damian, the former won out. “Actually, you know what, a show could be fun. The episodes are what, thirty minutes? Shorter than Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones.”

Damian groaned while Dick responded happily, ignoring his brother’s distress, “Around twenty minutes actually. We could have the whole show finished in about a week or so.”

Damian turned to her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Marinette, please tell me you are on my side?”

She patted her boyfriend’s arm, “Sorry, mon amour, I’m stuck either way. Might as well watch a show.”

Damian flopped against the couch with a pout. “Betrayed. I have been grievously betrayed by my own brothers and girlfriend. What is this world coming to?”

“Woo!” exclaimed Dick, a wide grin splitting his face. “This is going to be great.”

“This is going to be awful,” moaned Damian.

-0-0-

It took a bit of convincing on the part of Dick to get Bruce and Alfred to agree to the venture. Marinette, after learning the full details of the last two Family T.V. Events, was wholly unsurprised. She also did not know the full extent of what Dick did to get Jason to agree (apparently, he and Bruce were fighting, again, so this was expected.) although it probably involved a bribe. But by the week’s end, the entire family was together, all under strict orders (and puppy-dog eyes from Dick) to be on their best behavior.

Which, without a doubt, not a single one of them knew what that entailed.

The arguing started with seating placement, then about who controlled the remote, then over the distribution of snacks, drinks, blankets, and pillows. At one point Jason pulled a knife, which prompted Damian to pull his knife, suddenly Cass had two shurikens visible (where she even kept them while wearing a tank top and shorts, no one could say), and then everyone was yelling with sharp pointy objects in hand.

Once the argument was firmly under control, Alfred collected the weapons and placed them in a wicker basket, along with all the mobile devices, until the episodes for the night were finished. The only one allowed to have a phone was Barbara who was in charge of checking police scanners for any major trouble while the family took the evening off.

Marinette seated herself curled up against Damian on the edge of the couch. She set her foot propped up on an ottoman so it wouldn’t get jostled, and she could continue to ice it throughout the evening. Damian secured their own bowl of popcorn, so they didn’t have to share it with the others.

“Alright, here’s how we’re breaking this down,” announced Dick, who won the battle for the remote, and therefore the episode schedule. “The episodes are short, at least, much shorter than the last show we watched.” He directed a pointed look at Jason.

“I make no apologies.”

“We’ll watch half a season a day, ten episodes apiece. The closed captions will be on but try to keep the chatter to a minimum.” Marinette held back a laugh. Damian explained no one kept quiet during these nights. Watching the show wasn’t the point of these events; if that were the case then they would just watch it all on their own time. The point was the time spent together. This is why even Bruce, emotionally constipated and single-minded in his pursuits as he was, put away the suit for a few days to watch T.V. with the rest of his collected family. Talking was expected.

“We will, if you will,” called Stephanie.

“I take offense to that.”

“Aw just sit Dickie, let’s watch the show,” exclaimed Jason.

“Yes, Grayson you already wrapped us into this pointless venture; we might as well get it over with,” Damian grumbled. Marinette found his hand in the folds of their shared blanket and laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, and, when he was sure no one else was looking gave her a small smile. Marinette smiled back, he pretended to be such a grouch, but deep down he was a giant softy at heart.

Dick frowned, saying “Fine, fine, you don’t have to be spoilsports about it.” And pointed the remote at the T.V. starting the first episode.

-0-0-

It didn’t take ten seconds before the commentary began.

“Four elements?” exclaimed Tim. “Are you serious? I could name at least a dozen off the top of my head. How are there only four nations? 0/10 completely unrealistic. Political infighting alone-”

“Ah, shut up, replacement.”

“Ruthless fire nation?” said Stephanie. “Methinks a little propaganda might be occurring here.”

“A hundred years!? What, has no one competent been born the entire time?”

Marinette shrugged. “The disadvantages of finite magic systems, Dami. It's learned indifference.”

“Honey, after a hundred years that’s not hoping, that’s naivety,” said Stephanie in response to Katara’s impassioned speech.

“She’s right!” exclaimed Dick.

“We know that, but she doesn’t.”

The show moved on to Katara and Sokka in a boat. Sokka held a spear above the water.

“Is he hunting that fish?” growled Damian.

“Ah yeah, I forgot you may hate the entirety of Sokka’s character,” said Dick with a grimace. “Whoops.”

“She’s not very good at the water moving, is she?” asked Marinette

“Waterbending,” Dick and Barbara said in unison.

Sokka chided Katara about her weird water magic. “Oh, he’s not going to be a dick for the whole show, is he?” asked Steph.

“He gets better.”

“They grew up here right?” asked Damian, as Katara and Sokka become caught in a rapid. “How did they not anticipate an event like this.”

“I knew I should have left you at home. Leave it to a girl to screw things up!”

“HEY!” shouted all the women in the room.

They watched as Katara’s fury built and broke the iceberg behind her.

“Good. Use anger, anger is alright,” Cass commented for the first time.

“Okay, you’ve gone from weird, to freakish.”

“This punk is just asking for a beating isn’t he,” growled Jason.

The beam of energy shot into the air after Katara and Sokka broke open the ice. “That’s not going to cause any trouble,” said Tim, rolling his eyes. “Nope, not suspicious or completely conspicuous at all.”

The scene switches to a metal ship.

“Finally! Uncle, do you realize what this means?”

“Oh, look, the bad guys,” deadpanned Tim. “I was right.”

Jason grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth “What happened to his fucked-up fa-”

“YOU’LL FIND OUT!”

The scene switched back to Katara and Sokka. The figure is revealed to be a hyperactive little kid.

Damian frowned“Oh, I won’t like him either, will I Grayson?”

Dick tilted his head, “Eh.”

Then Appa is introduced.

“Father, could we-”

“No, Damian.”

They watched the children depart, and the scene moved back to the Fire Nation ship.

“Even if you're right, and the Avatar is alive, you won't find him. Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all tried and failed.”

“Well considering the Airbender child has been in an iceberg, it’s not surprising they failed.”

“Because their honor didn't hinge on the Avatar's capture. Mine does. This coward's hundred years in hiding are over.”

“Is it just me or does this angry, emo prince remind anyone of demon spawn?”

“Todd, shut your mouth before I remove your tongue.”

Marinette leaned in close, “Maybe just a little like you.” Damian looked at her with a betrayed pout.

The scene switched and they watched Aang lie to Katara about the Avatar.

“The air child is guilty. Will cause problems later.”

“Narrative Cass, it’s narrative.”

Damian scoffed. “Miscommunication is plot convenience, and it’s a sloppy one at that.”

They watched Aang’s dream of how he ended up in the iceberg, him waking up to Katara and his introduction to the village.

“Well, no one has seen an Airbender in a hundred years. We thought they were extinct until my granddaughter and grandson found you.”

“Extinct?”

“He went into the ice and woke up to find the world different. Anyone getting serious Captain America vibes here?” said Jason, tone-deaf to the clear horror on Aang's face.

“Jason, he just found out his people potentially went extinct!” chided Marinette.

“It's not for stabbing! It's for air bending.”

“Please tell me the main character is not a pacifist,” begged Damian.

“Well, he is a monk,” said Barbara with a sorry look.

“I sense he's filled with much wisdom,” Katara says as Aang sticks his tongue to his staff and it freezes.

“I switch back and forth between liking this girl and not. One second she’s got gumption, and the next she’s all starry-eyed and naïve,” grumbled Steph.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Damian whispered into Marinette’s ear. She felt her cheeks heat up.

"I'm not naive," she shot back.

He raised a hand with two fingers close but not touching, "You're a little naive." Marinette huffed, but silently admitted to her boyfriend's point. She had a tendency to believe the best in people; she saw it as a strength and appreciated it in this Katara character, but it was so far from how Damian viewed the world, it honestly confused his siblings when they first started dating.

Damian confided in her that he found it inspiring. She had been through so much, understood the cruelties of others, and still could see the good in people.

The scene switched to the Fire Nation ship again, and Iroh explained the concept of firebending to an irate Prince Zuko.

“Finally, a display of actual competence,” exclaimed Damian.

“Enough! I've been drilling this sequence all day. Teach me the next set! I'm more than ready!”

“My tutors would have skewered me if I dared to act in such a manner,” he commented again, softer than the first time. More so that only Marinette could hear. Damian’s family was more than aware of his childhood and what it entailed; Marinette slowly learned with comments like this. She squeezed his hand again and received a small smile.

The scene shifted back to the village where Sokka’s failed “warrior lesson” occurred, and then-

“We don't have time for fun and games with the War going on!”

“What war? What are you talking about?”

“Where have you been, frozen in ice for a hundred years?” joked Dick.

They watched Aang offer to take Katara to the North Pole to find a water bending master. The two children go and play with the penguin creatures, but the tone shifted when an old Fire Nation ship appeared on the screen.

“Bad ship” muttered Cass.

“If you want to be a bender, you have to let go of fear.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start,” said Tim.

They watch Aang and Katara enter the Fire Nation Ship and wander talking about the war.

“Aang, how long were you in that iceberg?”

“I don't know. A few days, maybe?”

“I think it was more like a hundred years!”

“Are you kidding me?” yelled Jason. “How are they just figuring this out now?”

On-screen Aang stepped on the line of wire, tripping the traps.

“Tt. Amateurs.”

"See, she told him it would be a bad idea!"

A flare rises through the air.

“That’s not going to cause any-”

“Oh, shut up Tim.”

The Fire Prince once again appeared on the screen.

“The last Airbender!”

“I was right,” he mumbled.

The screen faded to the credits, and Dick turned to the group.

“So? What do you think?”

“Slow.”

“Nobody has any sense.”

“Are any of the characters actually likable?”

He frowned. “Okay, okay, so the first episode isn’t the best. I swear it gets better. Back me up here Barb.”

Barbara nodded. “He’s right, it takes a few episodes to build the characters up and we see some genuine action. But by mid-season, I swear you’ll be hooked. And then we’ll get to season two and the best characters will arrive.”

“Hey,” Dick exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. “No spoilers.”

“I thought it was fun,” Marinette offered. “It’s very clearly a kid’s show, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She wasn’t going to say each and every person in the room had childhood traumas, and a show full of lighthearted fun was probably just what they needed. She could think it, but she wouldn’t say it.

“Thank you, Marinette,” said Dick with a smile.

“I rather enjoyed the elderly tea drinker,” intoned Alfred. “He’s more than he appears to be.”

“Uncle Iroh? Yeah, he’s the best!” commented Barbara. "But everyone is great."

“Alright, episode one finished, nine more to go.”

“Let’s hope it’s more enjoyable than the last,” uttered Damian, a chorus of agreement followed his statement, but when the show started up everyone grew quiet again.

Marinette was sure whatever happened next, it was bound to be interesting.

Tag List (Although it is on ao3 too)

@m3owww @your-resident-chimken-nuggie @loveswifi @fusser90@animegirlweeb @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere

#damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #damimari #mlb crossover #ml x dc #marinette dupain cheng x damian wayne #marinette dupain-cheng x damian wayne #moodboard #damientte #damianette #marinnette dupain cheng x damian wayne #mlb x dc #characters watch the show #maribat watching atla

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therobotmonster · 1 year ago

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I repeat:

You want the way media was to be again? You gotta break up the monopolies, end the current nightmarish iteration of Hollywood accounting, remove vulture capital, and generally change the economics of the system.

A Disney, Universal, or Warner Brothers sized company is only going to pursue the largest payouts, because a 5 million dollar drama costs >7.5 million to market. They work for the shareholders, which are, as we all know, intellectually and emotionally equivalent to a startled deer. They can't grok the idea of "250 of our 300 film projects made profit, we're doing great." They need a big juicy billion-dollar franchise to dangle in front of them, rattling like keys in front of a toddler to keep them from selling their shares.

If only my initial post had nodded at these concepts in the paragraphs between the newspaper clipping and the picture of Scorsese as Hulk Hogan.

Fortunately, the current system is not sustainable, and will either change in slow drips due to labor actions like the SAG-AFTRA strike (which the directors, like Mr. Scorsese, didn't have to worry about, the money boys had no problem meeting their demands) or, more likely, due to a massive industry collapse the likes of which we saw in retail.

This does not change the fact that shitting on the popular pulp stuff is a grand tradition, and worrying that quality of entertainment is going to irrecoverably destroy society is reactionary bullshit that crops up in every generation around whatever rules the pop roost. It's base snobbery.

When you tell someone that what they like sucks, they don't like that thing less, they like you less.

Negative engagement is still engagement, which is why Scorsese's beef, in particular, is indistinguishable from marketing. It's an act, because if he wanted things to change, he'd blame the money people responsible.

But he likes those people. Those people give him the money to make his films. Yelling at the MCU audience to make better choices gets him free press to promote his work and the work of his buddies.

So ring the bells, boys, none of us are immune to propaganda, and Wrestlemania has already begun.

I got a tumblr style rant for this xtter style rant.

This again? When has telling people "make better entertainment choices?" ever worked?

But also "X is mindless garbage that's destroying culture?"

It's so fucking cliché.

Before the MCU, it was reality TV, before that it was video games, before that MTV, Rap music, sitcoms, hippies, Rock & Roll, comic books, TV, movies, can't forget JAZZ, it goes back to the penny dreadful, to novels in general, and beyond.

Just say you're pissed off the pulp trash is getting all the money and be up front about it.

Maybe a legendary director could move the culture on Hollywood accounting and the obvious fraud of the marketing budgets, and solve that a bit?

Better yet, maybe go tell congress that giant entertainment monopolies are crushing small projects and limiting consumer options. A horde of little mice would eat a more diverse array of cheese than one giant one.

"See the rats in their million hordes, From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads"

But who am I fooling? This is kayfabe.

Harlan Ellison pulled this act off for years for self promotion (far better, I might add).

He'd strut out, tell the Star Wars nerds their movies sucked, soak up the boos and get eyes on everything he was doing.

The entertainment media, they love it. It's the easiest, laziest, click-bait imaginable. If the news day is slow, you just ask Martin Scorsese or Alan Moore about comic book movies and transcribe the one that answers first.

I mean, I've drawn you in with a multiple page ramble about this, after all.

Shakespeare had a line about this... what was it?

Oh yeah!

"WHAT? You egg!" [he stabs him]

That's the stuff.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years ago

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Google's short-lived data-advantage

There's a lot of ways to think about the movement to tame Big Tech, but one of the more useful divisions to explore is the "Night of the Comet" people versus the "Don't Believe the Criti-Hype" people.

This is a division over the value of the data that Google, Facebook and other large tech firms have amassed over the years - data on their users, sure, but also data on the advertisers and publishers they serve with their ad-tech platforms.

Big Tech companies and their investors are really bullish on the value of this commercial data-advantage: they say that spying on us - the users - lets them manipulate our opinions and activities so that we buy or believe the things their advertisers pay them to push.

More quietly, their investors believe that the data-advantage extends to publishers and advertisers, a deep storehouse of data that makes it effectively impossible for anyone else to do the precision targeted that Big Tech manages, which is why they have such fat margins.

Night of the Comet tech criticism accepts these claims at face value: Big Tech's advantage, they claim, comes from having amassed this insurmountable data-advantage that allows it to both predict and shape what we - and therefore advertisers and publishers - will do.

The implication of this is that traditional antitrust remedies - breakups, say - won't be merely ineffective; they'll be terrifyingly harmful.

If Googbook invented a mind-control ray to sell your nephew fidget-spinners, then breaking them up will only make it easier for Robert Mercer to hijack that mind-control ray to turn your uncle into a Qanon racist.

Googbook's data-advantage, in other words, is like a planet-killing comet heading towards the Earth. If we break that comet up, it will turn into a killing rain of meteors that shower onto every part of the globe - we can't break up the comet, we have to *steer* it.

In this version of tech criticism, the answer is to leave Big Tech intact, but turn it into a utility, or some other highly regulated entity, bound by rules that limit its use of that mind-control system.

Bringing Big Tech to heel by deputizing it to serve as an arm of the state (and perhaps a national champion in the new Cold War with China), like the Bell System prior to the AT&T breakup in '82.

On the other side, you have the Don't Believe the Criti-Hype school. Lee Vinsel coined the term "Criti-Hype" to describe a kind of criticism that actually hypes its subject - say, by repeating Big Tech's self-serving claims.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/02/euthanize-rentiers/#dont-believe-the-hype

These claims aren't just self-serving, they're also highly dubious. Everyone who's ever claimed to be able to read - or control - our minds was lying (to themselves, or to everyone else, or both).

The "psychometrics" that all this behavior-modification depends on is - to quote *Nature* - a "scant science." From Big Five Personality Types to microexpression/sentiment analysis, we're deep into the realm of irreproducible results and junk science.

https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-018-03880-4

The Criti-Hype school posits that the supernormal returns to capital for Big Tech aren't driven by awesome ad-tech capabilities, but rather, by monopoly (buying or crushing all competitors) and the fraud it enables (the industry has nowhere else to go).

That is, Big Tech makes money the same way hedge-fund managers make their own stunning returns: by cheating so they get paid whether or not they're any good at their jobs. The mere existence of a profitable industry is not proof that the industry is run by competent people.

And to be clear, there is a *lot* of fraud in ad-tech. Tim Hwang calls it a "Subprime Attention Crisis," where the ads are fake, the clicks are fake, the publishers' inventory is fake, the whole thing *riddled* with fraud.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/05/florida-man/#wannamakers-ghost

As Aram Zucker-Scharff wrote, "The numbers are fake, the metrics are bullshit, the agencies responsible for enforcing good practices are knowing bullshitters profiting off the fake numbers and none of the models make sense at scale of actual human users."

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/04/how-to-truth/#adfraud

It's a "bezzle" - a con whose mark hasn't twigged to the ruse...yet.

And while the Night of the Comet side relies on the irreproducible claims of self-proclaimed Svengalis, the Criti-Hype side has an increasingly corpus of cold, hard facts about the bezzle's operation.

Take last November's "Why Google Dominates Advertising Markets," Dina Srinivasan's superb and detailed dissection of Google's crooked ad-markets, in which they steal from advertisers and publishers by rigging the bids on both sides of the exchange.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/20/sovkitsch/#adtech

Srinivasan proves you don't need mind-control rays to explain how Big G makes fantastic returns from the ad-tech market. That prospect is further explored in the UK Competition and Markets Authority's 437-page report on "Online platforms and digital advertising" (Jul '20):

https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/media/5fa557668fa8f5788db46efc/Final_report_Digital_ALT_TEXT.pdf

Here's where it starts to get *really* interesting. In May 2020, Yale's Fiona Scott Morton and Omidyar's David Dinielli used preliminary CMA data to publish their "Roadmap for a Digital Advertising Monopolization Case Against Google."

https://omidyar.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Roadmap-for-a-Case-Against-Google.pdf

Morton and Dinelli zero in on the actual mechanism of Google's data-advantage, the thing it commands a lion's share of, which advertisers genuinely prize: location data. If I know you're around the corner from my cafe, I might spend a *lot* to show you an ad for my pasties.

This location data advantage is undeniable, but man, it has a short half-life. Thing is, I might spend a lot of money to show you an ad for my coffee shop when you're around the corner, but once you've moved on, you can go to hell as far as I'm concerned. You're dead to me.

This short half-life tells us that we're not living the Night of the Comet nightmare scenario. Break up Google, starve it of location data, and within *hours* most of its location targeting advantage is gone...forever.

As the antitrust cases against Google proceed, more and more of these technical exposes of rigged markets emerge, showing us how monopoly and fraud are at the heart of the data-advantage, and how contingent, time-bound and fragile that advantage really is.

The latest is the bizarrely named "Project Bernanke," a formerly secret ripoff that was exposed when Google forgot to redact a document it filed in its Texas antitrust case:

https://twitter.com/KhushitaVasant/status/1379955848118726659

Google used data from recent ad-auctions to help advertisers shade their bids for ad-placements, exploiting the information asymmetry so the ads it brokered won the auctions, ensuring that rivals ad-brokerages were frozen out.

https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/googles-secretive-project-bernanke-reportedly-093732134.html

Though Google insists that this was just an industry practice, the leaked document reveals that Google kept this a secret from publishers. Its internal presentations claim that they made $230m in 2013 alone from this practice.

https://www.wsj.com/articles/googles-secret-project-bernanke-revealed-in-texas-antitrust-case-11618097760

All together, this constitutes a highly specific account of how a data-advantage worked - and what its weak-point is. Project Bernanke was not grounded in longitudinal market data from ad-sales - it exploited *recent* data to deliver a $230m+/year advantage.

The multisided market - a multisided bezzle - exploits the monopolist's data advantage to harm readers, publishers and advertisers, not by predicting and shaping their behavior by bypassing their critical faculties with spooky, advanced psychometrics.

The bezzle requires fresh data - it's a flywheel that uses the monopolist's god's-eye-view to freeze out competitors and entrap publishers and advertisers to get more data to rig the market to entrap the publishers and the advertisers.

It's not a comet. It's a monopoly. It's not terrifying supergeniuses using machine learning to turn us into clicking zombies: it's garden-variety monopolists using anticompetitive, underhanded, dishonest and (probably) illegal tactics to maintain their monopoly.

Bust the trust, ban the conduct, and the data-advantage evaporates with the half-life of that extremely time-bound data. The criti-hype that says that the data-advantage is a deadly, unstoppable comet is just Google's own sales-patter, flipped on its head.

Don't believe the criti-hype.

#pluralistic

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hollandbaby · 5 years ago

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roommates - t.h smut

a/n: um so i haven’t written in a long time pls be kind. this is just a 4.9k one shot based on how i’m feeling, sexually frustrated, but unfortunately I’m not in lockdown with tom so cannot have sex with him. also I’m tipsy. AND feedback is much appreciated

warnings; smut, oral (f receiving), daddy kink, choking, biting, scratching, super long intro

You had lived with your lifetime best friend, Tom, for just over a year now, alongside his best friends Harrison and Tuwaine and his younger brother Harry. There was never a dull moment in the house, even when Tom’s away filming the other boys provide just as much entertainment. You’re used to spending lots of time with the boys, but when it’s announced lockdown was in place, it took a toll on everyone. Tom is unable to work which is a benefit considering he’s allowed to actually rest finally, plus he’s around a lot more which is nice. Harrison is always practicing his juggling which is entertaining until he breaks your favourite lamp. Tuwaine and Harry tends to keep to themselves, mostly playing video games or working from home. But boy was the house becoming messy.

“Alright, who’s underwear are these and why are they on the living room floor!?” You shout to the house, picking up the pants by the broom you had in your hand.

“Whadda they look like?” Shouts Harry, most likely on his laptop editing something.

“Grey Calvin’s but I know all of you own at least one pair so it’s not very helpful!”

You move to put them in the laundry basket by the washing machine, carrying on with your cleaning by sweeping the kitchen floor. Tom emerges from the bathroom, in just a pair of grey sweats and a towel wrapped around his neck, you try not to let yourself get distracted but it’s hard when you can see a single drop of water make its way down his toned, bronzed torso.

“Sorry, love, I think they may be mine,” he chuckles as he goes to fill the kettle for a cup of tea. He leans against the kitchen island, drying off his hair with his towel.

“What the fuck are they doing in the communal living room?” You ask, laughing as well. Living with boys may be hard sometimes due to the mess and the fact they’re all super dumb, but it’s so endearing and you have good times.

“I dunno, I probably threw them at one of the boys as a joke.” Tom giggles to himself but you roll your eyes.

“Well next time you throw your dirty laundry at someone pick it up after, doofus.” You chuckle, walking past Tom to head to your room for your wash bag before going for a shower. You turn the shower on and start to undress. You found yourself thinking about Tom, and the way he looked after his shower earlier, his wet curly hair all floppy and cute, water droplets falling onto his broad chest and toned abs. You’d never really thought about him sexually before, obviously he’s an attractive man and you’ve been close friends with him since you were kids, he knows you better than anyone, but you’d never realised just how hot he is. Maybe it was because you hadn’t had sex in over a month due to lockdown or maybe it’s because you’ve been able to spend more time with Tom recently, but there’s a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach that stretches all the way down to your core. You bite your lip, stepping under the hot water, steam filling the bathroom as you try to wash away your sins.

You’re cooking dinner for everyone, Harrison, Harry and Tuwaine playing some game in the living room and Tom is just watching, laughing along with them. Tom looks over the sofa to you, watching your movements for a second before getting up off the sofa and walking to the kitchen.

“Need any help, darlin’?” He asks, as you chop up some vegetables.

“You can chop up some onions with me?” You smile at him, and he gets a feeling in the pit of his stomach. You both continue chopping and cooking the meal, Tom drinking beer and you wine as you both dance around the kitchen and giggle and sing with each other. You call the boys into the dining area, serving up dinner and grabbing drinks for all the boys. As you turn from the fridge to place the beers on the counter, Tom is already stood behind you, making you jump. He grabs your waist to steady you, and you’re grateful you didn’t drop any of the bottles.

“Sorry, love,” he chuckles as your face heats up, a mixture of the fact Tom’s warm hands are still on your waist and you just had a close call to a very messy and classy clean up.

“S’okay, I’m just glad I didn’t drop any of these! The boys would kill me,” you pop open all the bottles, attempting to grab them along with your bottle of wine AND glass.

“Woah there, darling, I’ll grab those for you,” Tom takes three of the bottles from you, letting out a breathy laugh at your disgruntled facial expression, your bottom lip slightly jutted out and hair falling in your face.

“Thank you,” you smile and pick up your wine and glass, following Tom’s lead back to the table.

The boys are all chatting away, dishing up their dinners as you and Tom place their beers down in front of them.

“Thank you so much for cooking, Y/N, we’ll wash up.” Harrison says, smiling at you.

“Will we?” Tuwaine chimes in, looking confused.

“Bro shut up.” Harry says, you roll your eyes but you’re laughing alongside them.

“Well maybe after dinner, and after Haz, Harry and Tuwaine wash up, we can do something together?” You suggest, sipping your wine before munching some more.

“Sounds good. What did you have in mind?” Asks Tom, eager to spend some time with you.

“Well we could all play some card games or a board game?”

And that’s how you end up drunkenly giggling at 1AM over monopoly.

“How the fuck did I get go to jail again?!”

“Unlucky Baz man, looks like you’re in jail again,” you giggle, moving his figurine to the jail space.

“How are you doing so well at this game Y/N? It’s like you’re the monopoly mastermind,” Harrison asks, slurring the M’s slightly.

“I dunno man I used to play a lot with my family, plus it’s a game of chance.”

“Well it’s a fucking stupid game of chance,” Harry chimes in, pouting at the fact he has to miss a go.

“Shut up, dickhead, you love this game,” Tom grabs Harry by his shoulders and puts him in a headlock, ruffling his hair.

“Tom!” Harry exclaims, thrashing around. He kicks the board, knocking all the houses and hotels and cards everywhere.

“Harry!” shouts Harrison, clearly angry at the fact he’s lost his place and cannot for the life of him remember where it was.

“Oh my god you’re all idiots,” you laugh, Tuwaine exclaiming a “hey don’t put me in that category with them!”

You finish the last gulp of your wine before attempting to stand up to grab another bottle. You steady yourself on Tom’s shoulder before heading over to the fridge. You can feel his eyes on you as you pour yourself some more wine, but he quickly looks away when you turn back around. The lads are all laughing together on the floor, sipping beers and being stupid.

“What’re you all laughing at?” You ask, smiling, as you go to join them on the floor, Tom’s hand gently grabbing yours to help you sit.

“Harry’s suggesting we play never have I ever,” Tuwaine laughs.

“It wasn’t just me! Harrison suggested it I just said sure why not!”

“God you’re all a bunch of kids. Alright, are we playing or not?” You ask, getting confident from the booze.

“I know I suggested it but the room is spinning so much right now I think I’m gonna throw up,” Harrison states, hiccuping.

“Wow, good one genius. Alright, let’s get you to bed. Night all,” Tuwaine gets up, picking Haz up in the process and wrapping his arm around his waist, guiding Harrison to his room before making his way to his own.

“Aaaand I’d rather go to bed than stay up for whatever weird shit is gonna happen between you two,” Harry says standing up and chugging the rest of his beer, “peace out.”

“And then there were two,” Tom chuckles, starting to pack away the long forgotten monopoly board. You help him, placing pieces in their respective compartments and giggling with each other.

“So how about that game of never have I ever?” You ask biting your lip. You look at Tom to find he’s already looking at you, cheeks flushed and a curl falling into his face.

“Sure,” he chuckles breathily, “I’ll just grab another beer.” You smile to yourself as you watch Tom walk to the kitchen, biting your lower lip as you realise you shouldn’t be staring at his ass as he walks away. Tom returns to the living room, you’ve moved onto the sofa now, put some music on and your feet up on the coffee table in front of you. He plops down on the sofa next to you and smiles, taking a swig of his beer.

“Alright. Never have I ever pissed my pants from laughing,” Tom chuckles to himself as you slap his chest.

“That was ONE time and it was a TINY amount!” You huff, taking a swig of your drink. You smirk as you pull your legs up onto the sofa, turning to face Tom. “Never have I ever tried to impress a girl by doing a backflip but it ending up awfully badly and I broke my wrist.”

“For fucks sake,” Tom throws his head back and groans, taking a swig of his drink. “She still went on a date with me though, I assume out of pity. Okay, ummm, never have I ever had sex in a park.” He’s smirking this time, knowing full well you definitely had.

“I was 16 and fucking stupid. Guy was a douche anyway. Okay never have I ever, been walked in on.” You laugh at this one. Harrison loved telling the story of the time he walked in on Tom and some girl he’d brought home from a bar.

“For fucks sake, I wish everyone would stop bringing that one up.” He drinks, keeping eye contact with you. “Never have I ever had sex with a roommate,” he licks his lips, watching as you take another sip of your wine. “How’s that even happen?”

“You know the story, Tom, I had to move out because of how awkward it got.” You frown at him, these never have i evers we’re getting too real. “Okay, never have I ever had phone sex.” You watch Tom roll his eyes and take a swig of his beer.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never had phone sex?”

“No, what’s the point when I could just have sex with someone?”

“What if you’re far away from someone you’re dating and can’t go see them? I was working on set you know.”

“I know that! These are to try and get you drunk Mr Holland that’s the aim of the game,” you smile at him, “your turn.”

“Never have I ever,” he trails off, lips pursing as he thinks of one to say, “never have I ever had a threesome.”

You pause for a second, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting wondering if he knew you’d had a threesome before or if he was just curious. Either way, you take a sip of your drink.

“Now, this I’ve got to hear,” Tom’s smirking, an eyebrow raised as he waits for the story.

“I thought you knew! Oh, god. So it was my first year of uni, I was fresh out of a bad relationship, exploring my options etc you know. I start having sex with this guy regularly, just causal stuff no feelings involved. One day he comes round, then this girl calls him and he asks if she can come for drinks too. Obviously I say yes because I’m already tipsy and open to anything. She comes round, we end up drinking 3 bottles of wine each and it just, happened.” You look to Tom, after taking a sip of your wine, your cheeks flushed but it’s nothing compared to the look of shock on Tom’s face. He’s aroused at the idea but he won’t let you know that. His mouth is agape, then he licks his lips and smirks.

“Wow who knew you were crazy like that?”

You slap his chest, “shut up! I bet you’ve been up to some crazy stuff. I’m surprised you’ve not had a threesome yet.”

“I’m not the type of man to share, darling.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Besides, it was a foursome.”

“Ahhh and there it is.” You roll your eyes and smile, finishing off your drink. “Be a darling and grab my bottle from the fridge please, Tommy?” He tuts at your demand, nevertheless standing and going to grab your bottle. He grabs himself another beer too. You smile and thank him as he fills your glass, putting the bottle on the floor in case you need a refill. “I miss sex. That’s the worst part about all this shit.”

“Oh, totally agree. Stupid lockdown.” Tom sighs, sitting back down on the sofa next to you. You place your glass on the coffee table, turning to face Tom fully, resting your arm on the back of the sofa.

“What if we had sex?”

Tom spits his drink out, coughing and spluttering, getting his spat beer all over his white t shirt. “Shit. Um, what?”

“C’mon, we’re both adults with needs, it doesn’t have to be a big deal. Just a one time thing, a favour, to release all the sexual frustrations we’re both clearly experiencing since we don’t have dick or pussy on tap at the moment.” You pick your wine back up, taking a long swig before continuing. “I could just give you a blowie and we can go our separate ways.”

“Y/N, we live together. You said last time you did something like this it didn’t end well.”

“That was only a bad idea with my past roommate because he became obsessed with me after. Tom, we don’t have to do it it was just a suggestion.” You don’t know if it’s because the alcohol has given you a load of confidence or if it’s because you’ve not had sex in a long time but what you do know is that Tom is very attractive, especially when he runs his hand through his floppy curls, his white shirt tightening around his bicep. You lick your lips as your eyes rake up and down his body. You meet his brown eyes, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

“Conditions?”

“We can do whatever you want. My only condition is, we need a safe word. Actually, that and we probably shouldn’t tell the others what happened.”

“Agreed. Safe word can be pineapple.”

“Pineapple?” You laugh, leaning closer to Tom. You can smell his cologne, and it’s absolutely divine.

“I dunno. It was the first thing that came to mind.” He leans closer into you as well. “What’re you into?” His eyes flick to your lips and back up to your eyes.

“Hair pulling, biting, scratching, choking, spanking, call me babygirl or a good girl and I’m a goner. You?”

“Same, but call me Tommy or baby. Maybe daddy as well, depends how rough we’re going I guess.”

You put your glass back on the coffee table after finishing your wine, moving to straddle Tom’s lap. “Okay, Tommy, looks like we’re doing this.” You move in, testing the waters, eyes flickering between Tom’s and his lips. You can already feel the heat in your core and the wetness in your panties, your thin shorts barely protecting you from the feeling of Tom’s arousal in his grey sweats. He caves first, crashing his lips against yours and moving them oh so deliciously against your own. Your eyes instantly shut, your hands combing through his hair before gripping onto his brunette curls. Tom lets his empty bottle drop onto the sofa, long forgotten as his own hands move to your hips. His tongue experiments by licking your top lip, asking for entrance which you more than gladly grant him. Your tongue dances against his, your hips subconsciously grinding against his already hard cock. You let out a rough, breathy moan into his mouth, Tom’s hands moving to your ass, feeling the skin that your shorts don’t cover. He pulls back, panting and lips glossy and red.

“Your room or mine?”

“Whichever’s closest.” You kiss him again, letting out a slightly startled noise as he stands, picking you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, hands gripping onto his shoulders whilst his are gripping your ass. You peck his lips, kissing down his neck as he walks you to his room. It’s closest to the living room and nearest to the bathroom so it’s a win win for you. You open Tom’s door for him, he almost drops you when you do but luckily you grip back onto him, accidentally scratching his back. Tom lets out a hiss, but it’s not with pain, more so pleasure at the feeling of your nails digging into him. It makes him wonder how amazing your nails will feel scratching down his back while he’s fucking into you. He throws you on his bed, and you briefly note how clean and tidy his room is considering he’s so chaotic. Tom removes his (slightly damp with beer) shirt and is on top of you in an instant, his lips meeting yours again in a messy kiss, teeth and tongue in the mix. You wrap your legs around his waist, his hips grinding down into your own as your hands rake through his hair, tugging on tufts as you sloppily kiss. He pulls away, his lips moving down to your neck and nipping and sucking there. You let out a moan, your eyes rolling back as Tom’s mouth works wonders on you. Your hips buck up into his and his hand moves from the bed to your body, trailing down your neck and chest to the hem of your vest top, tugging on it as a signal for you to take it off. You listen, moving your arms down to the hem to rip your top off, Tom instantly moving down your body, his lips kissing your chest before his hand moves round to your back and unclasps your bra. He pulls it off you, his mouth making its way to your nipple as his eyes look up into yours. You scrunch your eyebrows in pleasure, biting your bottom lip as you moan lowly. You don’t even notice Tom’s hand trailing down your body until it reaches your clothed pussy, your hips instantly jerking up to meet his hand. A mixture of Tom’s tongue on your nipple and his fingers rubbing your clit through your shorts is giving you a feeling you’ve not felt in a while. Yes you’ve been getting yourself off but there’s something so different about someone else’s touch that feels so fucking amazing.

“Do you know how fucking hot you look in these shorts, baby? I’ve wanted to rip them off you all evening.” Tom moans out, he can feel your wetness through the material.

“Do it, then.” You smirk, but your breath is hoarse and raspy. You let out a gasp as Tom practically rips your shorts from your body, along with your underwear. He wastes no time moving down your body, lips leaving a wet trail of kisses on your scorching skin. Hiking your legs up so your feet are flat on the bed, he kisses your hips, then down your left thigh, as your hands make their way to his hair. Tom looks up into your eyes as he licks closer and closer to your wet pussy, his mouth hovering over you, causing you to grind your hips up in an attempt to meet his tongue. He finally ends the torturous teasing, gently licking his tongue through your folds and to your clit, you throw your head back and let out a soft ‘oh, fuck’. Tom’s fingers make their way up your body, gently teasing your nipple as his tongue massages your clit, your hips meeting his movements as you let out small, breathy moans.

“Fuck, Tom, fingers please,” your voice is broken and still raspy, but Tom makes eye contact with you again and the moan you let out is much louder than before. You throw your head back again, writhing against him.

“What do want, baby girl? Hm? Want my fingers inside you?” His breath is cool against your warm skin, his eyes searching for yours.

“Yes!” You attempt to buck your hips up again but Tom’s hands hold them in place.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, please, daddy!” Your voice is broken and your attempt to keep quiet is ineffective. Tom moves his right hand from your hip, his tongue returning back to your clit as he slowly pumps a finger into you, curling it up to reach your g spot. He has you writhing beneath him, adding another fingers stretching you out as his tongue laps at your clit, your hands grip his hair as you grind against his mouth, breathy moans escaping your lips. You bite your lip as your eyes roll to the back of your head, you figured Tom would be good in bed but, god, he was so much better than you expected.

“I’m close, Tommy,” he all but growls into your pussy at the nickname, fingers picking up speed as he sucks on your clit gently. One of your hands flies up to your face, biting down on your arm to stop yourself from letting out an extremely loud moan as you cum. Tom slows his movements, helping you ride out your high. He removes his fingers from you, looking into your eyes as he licks them clean. You bite your lip and let out a soft groan at the sight of him, pulling him up to you so you can kiss his lips, allowing your tongue to massage his. You can taste yourself on him, only making you moan into his mouth as you kiss. You pull on his sweats, pushing them down his thighs along w his boxers. Tom pulls them the rest of the way off and you roll onto him, pinning him to the bed with your thighs. Your lips never leaving his in a sloppy, wet, tipsy kiss. You’re overwhelmed by his senses, his hot skin, his sexy scent, his soft curls and the way his teeth occasionally nibble on your bottom lip. You start grinding your hips against Tom’s hard cock, his hands flying to your hips as you do so.

“You’re so fucking wet for me aren’t you, baby girl?” Tom growls against your lips, feeling your wetness on his skin.

You moan against his lips, nodding your head, “do you have a condom?”

“Yeah, bedside table, 2nd drawer down.” You reach over him to the nightstand, retrieving a condom, opening it with your teeth before rolling it onto Tom’s cock. Tom lets out a hiss at the contact, throwing his head back and panting as your hand moves up and down him, before you lift up and slide down onto his cock. His hands instantly grab onto your ass, nails digging into the skin as you find a pace, adjusting to his size. He was bigger than you were expecting but, fuck, did it feel good. You pick up the pace, hips moving up and down as Tom’s hand moves from your ass cheek to your clit, using his middle finger to circle the bundle of nerves. He’s grunting with each move you make, and your head falls back as you continue riding him. He moves his other hand off your ass and brings it back down in a harsh slap, your skin jiggling and a sharp moan escaping your lips. He smirks up at you, your body dropping forward, hands moving to rest by his head as you keep the movements of your hips. He slaps your ass again, massaging the red skin there as you bite your lip, looking into his eyes. You reach your right hand to around his throat, gently squeezing. Something snaps in Tom at that, planting his feet on the bed to get leverage to thrust up into you, fucking you from underneath, he grabs a handful of your hair and fastens the pace of his fingers on your clit.

“Fuck, Tommy!” You moan, trying to keep quiet but it’s hard when he’s fucking you so good, the arch in your back allowing him to go deeper, creating a delicious feeling. “I want you to fuck me from behind.” You’re panting and your voice is quiet but Tom hears you loud and clear.

“Fuck, love, you’re so hot,” he pulls out, rolling you over onto your front, your arms reaching in front of you, chest on the bed as your knees widen and your ass is in the air, Tom slaps your ass as he moves behind you, sliding his hard cock between your fold and collecting your wetness before he thrusts back into you.

“Shit, you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Another slap on your ass as he fucks into you, hands grabbing your hips for leverage.

“Yes, baby, keep fucking me like that!” You moan into the sheets. Tom reaches forward and grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your back up against his torso, fucking up into you. His hand slides around to grip your throat as he continues fucking you, his lips leaving sloppy kisses on your neck and cheek. He nibbles on your ear lightly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure. Tom’s other hand snakes it’s way around your waist down your body, his middle fingers circling your clit. Your head is resting on his shoulder, your hand coming round to pull on his hair as he continues fucking you, Tom’s grunts and groans right in your ear as his lips caress the skin there.

“So fuckin tight, baby, jesus,” Tom’s breath is hot on your neck leaving goosebumps all over your body as you moan at his words. “I want you to cum for me baby, can you do that?”

“Yes, Tommy, I’m so close,” you groan, but Tom pulls away completely. You’re shocked and disgruntled before you realise he’s throwing you on your back, spreading your thighs and thrusting back into you. You grab his shoulders, nails digging in as Tom fucks you, harder than before. Your moans are muffled by the skin of his shoulder, you bite down on his skin, sucking, most likely leaving a mark but you don’t care, too consumed with the fire in your stomach as your orgasm approaches.

“Rub my clit, please,” you breathe out, one of Tom’s hands moving from your thigh to between your legs, resuming his movements on your clit from before. He fucks you in a rhythm, your nails scratching down his back as he does so, Tom’s hair is falling in his face and tickling yours but you don’t care, he looks so hot like this, sweaty and panting above you. Your toes curl and your pussy clenches around him, his cock pounding into you, and it’s like nothing you’ve felt before.

“I’m gonna cum, Tommy!” You throw your head back, letting out a moan as Tom’s fingers rub your clit faster and he fucks you harder, his lips crashing against yours as you reach your high. Tom follows shortly after, sloppily thrusting into you as he cums in the condom. Tom collapses on top of you, your breathing steadying as you play with his hair. After a minute, he pulls out and discards of the condom, flopping onto the bed beside you, opening his arm to you so you can roll into his side.

“Well, that was ... wow,” you sigh contentedly. Your breathing is starting to slow down and a wave of exhaustion hits you. You rest your head on Tom’s bare chest, one of his fingers curling a piece of your hair around it.

“Oh, god yeah it was, something else.” He chuckles, pressing a light peck to your forehead.

“I should probably go to the bathroom then back to my room.” You sigh, you don’t want to move though. You’re absorbing Tom’s warmth and it feels so good. You roll off of his chest, pulling his t shirt from off the floor and sliding it on. Tom sits up as you go to collect your things, “you could stay in here tonight? I mean, sex isn’t the only thing I miss.” His face is flush and he smiles sheepishly at you. You smile back and bite your lip, leaning back onto the bed to peck his nose before heading off to the bathroom. Tom thinks you’ve gone to bed, sighing in defeat and flopping back against his sheets. You go to clean up, making your way back to Tom’s room but not before grabbing another 2 bottles of beer first. You return to his room, smiling as you hand him a bottle. He laughs at you as he opens his beer, taking a sip before opening his arms to you, inviting you to sit with him on his bed. He’s got his boxers back on, duvet loosely wrapped around his hips, shifting while he moves. You sit back on the bed with him, taking a sip of your own beer. You both laugh and chat until you finish your drinks, lying down again and falling sleep curled up in Tom’s arms, his hand gently massaging your scalp as he places occasional pecks on your forehead. You realise that maybe this won’t be the last time as you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #also this isnt proofread lol #daddy!tom is a ducking loos tho

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fishylife · 3 years ago

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Hyena Ep 12

- I was a bit confused about Geum-ja’s attitudes towards the case, but I think I agree with what Hee-jae. He said that she feels responsible for pushing Jeong-hwa to stay in a dangerous situation that she ended up dying for it. That was why Geum-ja was so weirdly neutral about it. She doesn’t want Chan-ho to have killed Jeong-hwa, because that would somehow exonerate her. At the same time, she is also hiding from her client the fact that she knew about Jeong-hwa’s relationship with Jun-ho, so she isn’t totally on Chan-ho’s side. So far, I think Geum-ja has hidden their relationship from everyone (except Ji-eun, who already knew before).

- I know I-jun’s job is basically just to look cute but I am but a shallow person and I cannot help but want to pat his head when he gets something done lol. All the other team members are so encouraging and reassuring to him, especially Chung-uk lol.

- So Geum-ja’s dad wants to threaten her. Geum-ja and Ju-ho think he doesn’t have evidence, but they’re also like WHAT IF. He’s just a huge thorn in their sides.

- Some corporate stuff happened. God, I’m really not interested in this corporate takeover stuff. It’s just that this show was never really about that stuff...even though it sort of was. Like, up until now the cases were more down-to-earth but now Song Pil-jung and Kim Min-joo are just playing with monopoly money as opposed to Hee-jae and Geum-ja who were doing like...more concrete field work. So getting Ju-ho to take over Issume and all the Kevin stuff just isn’t as interesting as the murder case.

- The ending was...not my favourite. The thing about romance is that sometimes you have a bunch of steps that are supposed to lead up to an acknowledgement that two parties are in love and in this case, I’m not sure that all the steps were there. You could say that Hee-jae’s jealous episode slowly got him to realize that he really had feelings for Geum-ja. The execution was very questionable though. As for Geum-ja, we had hints that she liked Hee-jae, or at least the idea of a lover, from the little things. But she spent the last handful of episodes getting annoyed at Hee-jae’s imposition on her personal life, so how did we jump from the little things through conflict into an acknowledgement of love? I know Geum-ja isn’t the kind of person to show her heart on her sleeve, but that doesn’t mean the writers can just give us nothing and be like “by the way Geum-ja is passionately in love with Hee-jae.”

- I guess Geum-ja “showing her love” was by telling Hee-jae that he needed to save his dad (?). Honestly that entire sequence was so weird. We barely saw Hee-jae’s dad, and even then, I felt like Hee-jae’s brother had more screen time in the recent episodes. And then all of a sudden Hee-jae’s dad is the one with the big target on his back that they all have to save. I’m probably just nitpicking, but when Hee-jae’s dad was talking to Pil-jung I was like “who’s this guy again? why do I care about him again?”

- This inheritance tax law side plot is also far less interesting compared to the MURDER MYSTERY we have going on. I understand that the big corporate merger and tax law cases are maybe more relevant to society as a whole, but like, as a viewer who wants to be entertained, it’s really breaking down the tension towards the end of the show when you should be ramping it up.

#thinking out loud #kdrama #hyena

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thefcw · 2 years ago

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matty-1-monopoly:

Cryo Slumber

Open to: Females

Plot: A rotation of crew members with 2 men and 1 woman working together on the long journey through space.

Aboard the Argo were about two thousand souls in animated suspension or put into a deep freeze sleep. A small crew would be left awake at all times to keep the ship running in perfect condition or so the press release claimed. Matt Becket and David Harlow were two of the greasy ship mechanics left running things. Their third being a woman who they had trained with back on Earth. The good news being that if a crew didn’t like one another then every other month a new member would come out of cryosleep so the others could rest. This suspended animation was also for the purpose of extending their lives over the long voyage. The three were in the control room, Matt was monitoring power collection from the solar panels, David monitoring their own utilities, heat, water, food, and when they could take a break. All this monotonous work going on and they were hardly lifting an eye to look as the ship sailed past the moon. Breaking the silence Matt finally spoke out. “So why did you do it?” He asked aloud among the group. Answering first among them. “If you think about it, the gender imbalance makes things fairly ideal for men. By having the passengers be only 40 percent male, this allows for multiple women to become desperate if they want to have a child. Plus men are just essentially unlimited pistols while women take 9 months to make a baby. What do you think? Good or bad there’s more girls than guys on board? Heh.” He turned his head towards their female crewmate who had her backs to them as she was doing her own tasks.

Although being a supporting engineer hadn’t been in her future plans it was an easy enough job and being rather small she was ideal if any tight spaces needed to be accessed. Also even if she was rather independent she got along with the two men she was assigned with. They were like two annoying older brothers really. Working repetitive tasks was easy, Laura was entertained well enough by books and documentaries whenever they were off duty and while working the two men always had some weird conversations. Hearing Matt Laura rolled her eyes and smiled, shaking her head slightly. A colony mission and all he could think about is sex. Pressing a few buttons to do a routine check in her systems Laura got up smiling, “Oh, Matt, women aren’t going to get desperate. Everyone who signed up made a contract to have at least one baby. Better to have more ovens for buns than dough mixers. Like you said: women need 9 months, men only 5 seconds.” Sure there’d no doubt be some competition for specific men however desperation wasn’t going to be on the agenda. “Anyway, there’s frozen samples onboard too to guarantee genetic diversity. Although personally I prefer… traditional methods.” Going to Matt she leaned against his chair to look outside of the window. “Don’t worry, Matt. I’m sure there’s someone who wants your luscious blonde hair genes.” Giving him a playful wink Laura stepped away, “I’m going to go check the systems in the cryo before we take a break. Don’t want things getting too warm down there.”

Cryo Slumber

Open to: Females

Plot: A rotation of crew members with 2 men and 1 woman working together on the long journey through space.

Aboard the Argo were about two thousand souls in animated suspension or put into a deep freeze sleep. A small crew would be left awake at all times to keep the ship running in perfect condition or so the press release claimed. Matt Becket and David Harlow were two of the greasy ship mechanics left running things. Their third being a woman who they had trained with back on Earth. The good news being that if a crew didn't like one another then every other month a new member would come out of cryosleep so the others could rest. This suspended animation was also for the purpose of extending their lives over the long voyage. The three were in the control room, Matt was monitoring power collection from the solar panels, David monitoring their own utilities, heat, water, food, and when they could take a break. All this monotonous work going on and they were hardly lifting an eye to look as the ship sailed past the moon. Breaking the silence Matt finally spoke out. "So why did you do it?" He asked aloud among the group. Answering first among them. "If you think about it, the gender imbalance makes things fairly ideal for men. By having the passengers be only 40 percent male, this allows for multiple women to become desperate if they want to have a child. Plus men are just essentially unlimited pistols while women take 9 months to make a baby. What do you think? Good or bad there's more girls than guys on board? Heh." He turned his head towards their female crewmate who had her backs to them as she was doing her own tasks.

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shiberpostshere · 4 years ago

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The Kiss Thief - Park Seonghwa Social Media AU

38. Chapter Thirty Two: No, It’s Ryan Reynolds!✨

Previous Part✨ Next Part ✨

Masterlist of the AU✨

Word Count: 6.7K (Buckle up, its time for a ride)

This Chapter Contains: Giggle worthy chaos and tooth decaying fluff. (An Annoyed San too.)

It’s a regular Sunday. A quiet regular Sunday. An unusually quiet, regular Sunday that you don’t experience often as a college student.

An unusually quiet regular Sunday except for Yeri and Jongho’s loud, harmonious snores that vibrated through the lazy (almost) evening silence of the apartment while you had sneaked out like a thief bound with tinkling shackles out of the front door.

It was exactly five minutes before 5 O’clock and you knew what noise pollution would commence once the short hand stopped perfectly atop the number five.

The neighbour above starts angrily vacuuming to release their pent up frustration of the day or maybe to act as a thoughtful warning alarm to wake the other residents who might be napping above the universal napping time limit and the snarky middle aged lady beside, who begins banging pots and rattling spoons to prepare either her dinner or for a secret time travel battle she has to attend every single night to save the history for the sake of the present.

You have a generous set for neighbours.

Thankfully, you aren’t currently present in your apartment to experience the brutal murder of your ears.

Unfortunately, you’re sandwiched in between San and Wooyoung in the shared wide back seats of the bus, stuffed to the absolute brim with sweaty and jumpy people.

The serenity of the weekend ended when you willingly decided to step onto the Bus No. 7 for the following reasons:

Number One, You and Wooyoung don’t drive and San owns a motorcycle that cannot carry three people at once, not without getting an overloaded vehicle ticket by pulling a stunt like that,

Number two, you have nothing better to do on a Sunday evening other than watch Yeri and Jongho scream about the WIFI and college website because they couldn’t select the classes they wanted fast enough,

Number three, you were unable to escape from Wooyoung’s persistence but you had to get out and inhale some fresh air of the outside.

It is a secret that you had isolated yourself in the sweet ol’ bedroom (in the name of preparing for a workshop), to take a five minutes rest which gradually progressed into knotting up your bones by rolling on the bed 24/7 and temporarily disrupting the serotonin production while watching sad movies, and

Number four, San cashed out a favour from that one time he fetched a folder from your dorm and drove fifteen minutes to deliver it because your degree was on the line. Which is why, this particular evening you need to help him out with whatever he wants to do at this Garden plus Research Centre for Thesis purposes.

“The Thesis and Freebies Date”, term coined by Jung Wooyoung, free entertainment, food finder and a plus one, on Sunday 17th of May, 5:30 AM on the dot.

On top of all these reasons sat Seonghwa’s last text message like a cherry on top of a cupcake of complaints.

He sent you a picture of his americano that was loaded with ten pumps of syrup, “I’m drinking coffee😇”

What coffeeee????!!?!?!?

Everything has failed you today. The public transportation system, your emotional support boy and your unhealthy obsessive complex believing that anything above two pumps of syrup is not coffee because you cannot handle personal preferences.

“Why on earth is this bus full like it’s the last bus available to escape a fucking zombie aopcalypse. What is this ‘Bus to Busan’?” Your voice comes out with pure seething under your breath for only your friends to hear but you catch the old lady beside San narrowing her eyes at you with suspicion.

San, engrossed in scrolling through his twitter and sipping his (proper) americano is least interested about your discomfort.

“Oh I don’t know! I did suggest taking the subway instead but two idiotic people whined for five minutes straight to get on this bus.” His response is monotonous, attempting to contain himself from bursting.

The pinching statement is directed towards you and Wooyoung who grumbled about the group having to walk after getting off the subway when the bus seemed like a better option that stopped right on the street opposite of your destination.

Wooyoung’s frame shifts slightly onto your small seat as the hefty man beside him wiggles for space. “Yeah, Jesus Christ, if only I had had an epiphany about how crowded the bus was going to be before we board it.”

If only you had epiphanies.

The bus was mildly crowded when all of you had entered but became packed within the next ten minutes of collecting passengers at merely three stations.

Poor Wooyoung is scared for his life knowing he will be ironed flat by the man if the bus jumps over a speed breaker or God forbid, decides to halt abruptly. The fear is relatable because the boy standing in front will collapse right onto your already shaky lap under any abrupt movements made by the bus.

After five minutes of distracting himself, San shoves his phone in the pocket of his jeans and leans into your space to jab a finger at two of you simultaneously. “Yeah, Jesus Christ, if only my lazy ass friends knew how to walk but they left their legs in the semester break.” He accuses.

He is absolutely right.

Every student, excluding the few exceptionally productive ones, collectively lost the ability to walk unless the end goal was acquiring food, money, grades and work experience.

Wooyoung throws his hands up out of exasperation, “And you’re hundred percent sure that the subway isn’t packed?”

You nod vigorously, supporting his argument because it doesn’t lead to admitting that you’re wrong and not once you’ll acknowledge the possibility of the missed subway having much more space than this body heat microwave of a bus that you two insisted on boarding until San gave in and agreed.

“Yeah. Also, we’re accompanying you for your work, San.” You chide in to transfer the blame like a ten year old child and nudge the grouchy boy away from the seat with your right arm.

San’s left brow twitches. He is definetly holding back a snarky retort.

“Yes, yes, it’s all my fault.” He drawls on his reponse and turns his head away to ignore your presence entirely.

Apparently, it was not an unusually quiet, regular Sunday for the residents of Unit 8181 also known as the occupants of the apartment of Seonghwa and Friends who have been on the edge due to a mysterious late night incident that was not revealed to you no matter how many times you pried.

Mingi and Yeosang were sprawled together on the couch, hidden beneath a bunch of weighty duvets which did not look like it had two people sleeping underneath it until they started untangling themselves from each other.

Wooyoung was showering, apparently for almost an hour to scrub away his drowsiness as stated by San who has been extremely cranky and constantly keeping himself occupied with his phone and swishing and fixing his posh, sky blue cardigan (until you entered the kitchen and he dragged you out with him, suddenly all smiles).

Yunho was the only one who appeared somewhat himself, still in his pajamas, folding questionably large amount of laundry. He mentioned ‘monopoly game night’ but you didn’t buy that excuse.

They were engaged in constant back and forth, ‘Who Can Shut the Other Guys Up In The Most Creative Way’ contest.

Yeosang won after a house slipper flew out of his room, wheezed past your legs and landed right near the shoe rack as you stood there frozen. The aim was commendable but the action was concerning.

Other than sarcastic remarks, all of them shared swollen eyebags due to the lack of sleep.

A sleepy Mingi glared at you with his droopy eyes for thirty seconds, mumbled out, “Oh, it’s just you.”, trudged towards his room and slammed the door behind him.

The apartment floor was spotless, not one obvious clutter in sight.

Seonghwa will surely name everything he owns to them in his will once he returns in the coming week and sees the glistening state of the apartment.

It reminds you that you, too, need to take care of that one chair that holds the tower of toppling dirty clothes in your room before he sees them and gives you an earful of nagging.

A bead of cold sweat travels down the crevice of your neck.

“How much longer until we arrive?” You committ the mistake of directing the question to the volcanic mountain prepared to erupt any minute now.

The bus jostles with a screech, collectively swinging everyone forward with a painful jerk. Shared sighs and groans echo throughout the bus.

Staying put in your seat in this bus is more challenging than a one minute plank.

“I don’t know, he probably knows.” Wooyoung responds with a shrug, holding onto his dear life.

“Maybe you should walk through this sea of people and ask the bus driver himself.” San suggests with an imposed smile, causing your own lips to stretch into a false one.

“What a fantastic suggestion! I would love to use you as a human shield to push through this crowd and get to the front.” You answer, crossing your arms below your chest.

He offers you his entire irked attention.

Wooyoung’s forehead dives into the palm of his hand. He’d rather hide than let the passengers of the bus know that he is associated with the two of you.

The agitated boy rolls his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line before he launches his lecture. “Okay, you know what (y/n)---”

“Oh for goodness sake! Young man and young woman! Resume your couple’s banter at your place, don’t fight in public places.” The old lady whose patience was being tested this entire journey voices out her protest.

You’re stunned for a good moment before your heads snap towards the lady, wearing similar offended expressions.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung is holding onto his bubbling laughter. His palms having slid down from his forehead to his lips to prevent himself from laughing out loud like a maniac.

“We are not a couple!” You both answer in a hurried chorus.

After the frantic clarification, your eyes meet and the absurdity of the old lady’s comment wipes every single trace of the previous exchange.

Both of you break together into timed, soft giggles and the chain reaction pulls in Wooyoung who laughs into his hands to control the volume.

The lady shakes her head at your reaction. “Well, then, not a couple, don’t fight and let me ride to my book club meeting in peace.” She states her demand, expression indicating that she is cooking incorrect judgements about your group in her mind.

San and you offer her a quick sincere apology, suppressing the amusement derived from her assumption.

“You two in a romantic relationship? More like a disastorous pair of wannabe edgy emo and a pissed caffeinated fantasizer. Nah, totally incompatible.” Wooyoung mutters under his breath.

“He’d get rid of me in ten minutes.” You whisper your reasoning.

San feels the old lady’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head, his arm nudges yours gently, “Make that five. Okay now, zip up.” His eyes and voice both firmly plead.

“Yes sir.” You reply and shrink in your seat further to make room for Wooyoung to breathe.

They’re quite a handful duo, alright, but they’re your handful duo and they handle you as well.

After ten minutes of bumping, shoving and tossing around the entire bus like popcorns, the three of you miraculously step out in one piece.

You take a good five minutes to regain your normal pace of breathing again.

The relaxing wind carrying the gentle floral aroma from the garden calms your suffocated senses.

Ah, finally, freedom from people.

The bus was overdosed with CO2.

Your lips were zipped for most of the ride in order to avoid receiving another sneer from the old lady and making sure you don’t run out of the very last oxygen molecule present in the bus.

Wooyoung is stretching every limb of his body after being pressed in between the sandwich grill consisting of you and the giant man.

“You know what?” He pulls out a little black hair tie to control the little locks ruffling against his eyes. “Ditch me the next time I whine about not walking because that was literal hell. I am never stepping into another bus, ever again.” The determination present in his voice is almost convincing. Almost.

“You’re going to start whining when it’s time to return.” Adds San, after double checking every pocket present on his clothing.

An overwhelmingly tiring yawn falls through your lips.

“Yeah, dude, no false promises.” You inch closer towards San to show your support.

Wooyoung’s exhausted face transforms into an unamused one, “You’re shameless.”

Harsh but true.

“No, no, no, you last minute side switchers, get away from me. I am not claiming you.” Ignoring your presence, he simply walks towards the main entrance of the garden.

A sickeningly sweet smile appears on your lips. “Hey, wait, I promise, I won’t take Wooyoung’s side ever again!” You say in a singsong manner, taking wide steps to catch up by San’s side.

“Where do you think you are going?” The betrayed one gets a hold of your backpack and pulls you back with a forceful tug.

Your shoes brush harshly against the concrete pavement. He accomplishes the task of slowing you down and makes a run for San, wheezing loudly.

“Jung Wooyoung!” You cry out loud at his actions, your backpack flailing out of your arms.

He treads beside his unbothered friend, front facing you from a distance. “We need to meet the professor at the research centre anyway, keep yourself busy until then!” A wink and a cackle, then he grabs San by his shoulders and disappears inside at an astonishing speed.

Like a little kid whose ice cream has been snatched away, you stand there watching San’s waving hand and Wooyoung’s bouncy ponytail fading away.

A strong inhale and a gentle exhale, you try to calm the rapid heaving of your chest.

“Ah, whatever! They’ll text me once they’re done.” Uttering the assuring words to yourself, you fix the carelessly hanging backpack and set course to occupy yourself in the garden until they’re done with whatever they have to do at the research centre.

This is not the first time they have pulled this prank of abandoning you just for laughs and then frantically calling with the classic bait of “yo, come over at this food truck, we’re paying😏”

They throw the same bait under any circumstances and it works pure magic on any living being who lives for eating. Even Seonghwa caves in, and your willpower is -2 compared to Seonghwa’s 10+ patience.

Once you step inside the garden, you’re sure they have ditched you with good intentions as your eyes take in the lavish surroundings.

The green of nature is widespread throughout in the form of sturdy and lean trees, recently mowed grass and snipped shrubs peeking in between, all sprinkled with colourful little flowers like twinkling stars on a clear night sky. A gentle breeze whistles by within small intervals, rustling the leaves with the faintest crackling sound.

There are feeble chirps of birds, hiding in their nests to sleep for the night.

It is heaven on earth as the golden glow of the sun settles upon the scene.

The lulling fragrance of roses carried along with the wind urges you to roll on the blanket of the grass and maybe even take a nap after tiring yourself but you know you’ll be thrown out because there are watchful guards scattered around.

For once, you’re grateful that they left you behind.

You’d rather take a walk around the garden while listening to serene songs rather than awkwardly wait behind them as they converse with the said professor they’re here to meet.

I should explore a little before San gets into his Plant Geek Mode.

A major path from the main entrance splits in several small, stone tracks, like a maze to explore.

The region is vast, tranquil and maintained, no wonder a research centre lies somewhere in this arboretum.

You notice the informative display of the map, standing tall, indicating what lies in between and at the end of every track, piquing your explorer fantasy. There is a stack of small, handy maps for visitors to carry as well.

You grab one, deciding upon the center most lane with your earphones playing the enchanting tune of Like a Flowing Wind by Day6 in a low volume.

“The North Lane leads towards the green house and the research centre.” You murmur, studying the contents of the map with much concentration. “Wooyoung and San probably went that way.” You throw a quick glance behind before resuming your stroll.

The trail you’re currently walking on is the West Way, sheltered with tall towering trees and the Grand Elixir Fountain that lies at the end.

You neatly fold the brochure and tuck it safely inside your pocket, saving the next spots to visit together once you regroup.

Surprisingly, the garden doesn’t have an overflowing crowd.

There are quite a lot of people occupying the benches and seating areas, mostly couples. You notice quite a few students, assuming they are, with their laptops and notebooks, surveying or either sitting in a formation to share their findings.

Everyone is invested in themselves, in their own little world due to which the place feels quite private, snug and pleasant.

The greenery, the sounds of nature, the music and soft whispers creating one whole atmosphere of contentment.

It has been named Golden Blooms for a reason indeed. Except the Research Centre part, we’re going to ignore that for now.

Seonghwa would absolutely love this place. There is nothing not to love about this. You can sketch a million ways of spending time here together.

You don’t want to be a girlfriend like that but you’re to be a girlfriend like that.

A picnic after a long hectic week of continuous classes to unwind while spending quality time together, under a birch tree that casts a wide shadow beneath to watch the sunset while sharing the most mundane and silliest stories of your week and snacking on the collective bag you two usually pack before heading out for your Saturday Sunset Dates.

Maybe you’ll have to give up the spot due to its popular demand but it’ll be alright nonetheless. Instead, you’ll resort to taking every lane to check what lies at the end as Seonghwa’s personal playlist will be the perfect background music.

The day will end with a hearty dinner and crashing in either’s bedroom, cuddling together where he always insists on being the little spoon and you always give in.

Oh god, I went too far.

If just the thought has you feeling immensely giddy, how exhilarating would it feel to actually spend a day like that?

Back to present, (Y/N), back to present.

The uneven stone trail comes to an end as your shoes sink into the bed of the grass. Your next steps feel extremely light.

Walking on this grass is the closet one can experience how walking on a cloud feels like. You constrain yourself from removing your socks and shoes and running around on the grass like a madman--

Holy Shit.

The Grand Elixir Fountain is a masterpiece.

Rather than blindingly white, it is a comforting shade of evanesce beige. The sculptures surrounding the circumference are alluring rather than intimidating of mythical water creatures from numerous mythologies.

A water nymph settles at the heart of the fountain on a wave with water sprouting from the pot she’s embracing.

The gurgling water simmers down onto another platform shaped like a lotus, little droplets splashing on the people standing close by the edge and then gliding down from the platform into the bottom expanse to become a slow, rippling stream.

The Fountain is a high lord, you are a mere peasant. The Fountain is the moon and you’re a small star. The Fountain is queen bee and you’re a worker bee. The Fountain is a high quality gaming PC and you’re a laptop you had to buy with an acceptable graphic card because you’re a college student who is surviving.

Maybe you’re not the best with creative descriptions but it’s okay you’re a law student any way.

Creative writing is Yeosang’s forte and he worries about it plenty.

“Seonghwa can’t be here but I can send him some pictures.” Pulling out your phone, you scan the area.

An old couple are seated on a bench to the far right admiring the view, bunches of people pass by once a while either to leave or enter the area and a small group of friends are circled in a corner preoccupied within themselves.

“Okay, nothing to see here, just a college girl fangirling over a beautiful fountain.” You say it with the intent of addressing the people present but it is mostly directed towards yourself to not get embarrassed before you engage in a long photo session full of fascination over a fountain at an arboretum.

Okay, alright, let’s get this over with.

The cause of your dubiousness is Jongho.

He has pointed out several times that while taking photos you tend to get absorbed and switch into questionable positions just to score a worthy shot.

You somehow manage to capture moderate looking full shots without getting any uncanny looks from the visitors around with only one close up shot left.

The star of the fountain, the water nymph.

It’s alright. Hopefully nobody finds you getting on one knee to capture a decent picture of the fountain uncanny.

You’re just a harmless college girl who wants to text her boyfriend, excite him about your possible future dates and hunt for food while waiting for the two little devils to return and get working before it’s too late.

Gentle sprinkles splash onto your face as you move a little closer with careful steps to find the best spot. The water is enticing on this boiling day.

You hold your phone up, adjusting the angle to your liking. “Okay that’s good.”

Before you can press the capture button, a pair of hands lock around your waist, someone’s weight settling on your shoulder.

“No, shift it a little more to the right.” A voice, obscured by the earphones, speaks extremely close to your ear, sending a quivering sensation down your spine.

The first instinct is to freeze, your entire body numbs at the sudden action, heart beating at an alarming speed.

It is followed by a startling scream of having a stranger’s arms wrapped around your body. The scream pierces through the placidity of the garden, birds from the trees flying away to safety out of fright.

Finally, the adrenaline rush kicks in, your physical senses registering the situation and your reflexes activate.

The phone still connected with the earphones flies out of your hands and ears, elbows diving back to land double smacks on the intruder’s stomach to get him off your back.

The old couple look into your direction with a panicked expression and the entire group nearby jilts up and dashes towards you to investigate the source of the scream.

You turn around to inspect the trespasser who has landed flat on his butt, clutching onto his stomach as continuous groans and curses fall through his lips.

“(Y/N)! What the hell!” The obscurity long gone, you recognize the familiar voice and its owner.

Losing the energy in your legs, you fall down into a squatting position. “Seonghwa?” In a panicked state and a hesitant voice, you call his name.

“No, it’s Ryan Reynolds.” Mockingly, he whimpers, trying to regain his knocked out senses.

It is indeed your boyfriend who is currently supposed to be in Japan but is in pain because you landed two good elbow punches right on his stomach after his 4 hours of excitement at the airport and two hours of flight and it is definitely, hundred percent confirmed especially, after his eyes meet yours, full of pain and shooting imaginary daggers at you.

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but two blows right on his abdomen.

“Park Seonghwa!” You exclaim.

“Nope, no, I am not Park Seonghwa anymore.” He states in a faltering tone.

“Miss, are you alright?” A boy from the far away friend circle interjects, stopping in front of you. “Is he bothering you?” His fingers wrap around your arms to pull you up.

His other two friends help Seonghwa but with a much constrained grab on his arms.

You look at your boyfriend being held by the two strangers and then at the boy, eyes performing a few puzzled double takes.

“Miss?” The boy reiterates his query.

You’re dumfounded, your thoughts hazy.

Collecting the remaining strength in your body, your hands fly in gestures of denial. “No, no, that’s my boyfriend.”

The boys appear skeptical. They exchange disbelieving glances.

“Are you sure? If he’s really bothering you, we can call the police right now.” One of the boys holding your boyfriend suggests with the intentions of your safety.

The frenzied senses simmer down second by second, your hand reaches out to free him from the strangers’ hold. “No, no. Thank you so much for your help but there has been an misunderstanding, that’s all.”

The boys release him and you replace their hold by linking his arm.

“He is really my boyfriend. I was just surprised.” You state with complete assurance.

“It’s also my fault for creeping up behind her. Thank you for watching out. We’re sorry for the disturbance.” Seonghwa takes the cue and bows down a little to offer a sincere apology.

His other hand rests atop your bound one. Your gaze stays taut on him, following his actions to apologize as well.

The boys notice your relaxed figure beside him. “Ah alright, so it was a misunderstanding.”

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, it was. We’re sorry.” You say politely.

Calculating the situation, the boys exchange final greetings before trusting your relationship and leave you two with a, ‘Be careful with your surprises!’

The surroundings stop still until Seonghwa unlinks your arms to intertwine your fingers instead and bends down to pick up your phone.

“Should we sit somewhere and talk?” He suggests in a composed tone.

“Oh, right, yes.” You answer, mentally occupied collecting the dispersed bits of your comprehension grip.

You two settle on the broad bench, previously occupied by the old couple who left after the ruckus, facing each other.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” You search for his eyes that meet yours in a span of millisecond after the raised enquiry.

Your fingers contract and expand with hesitancy near his abdomen where you, or more accurately, your reflexes stroke him a blow. Eyes fluctuate up and down, from his face to the injured area, teeth abusing the lower lip with worry.

His hands catch and close around your awkward ones, “It hurts but I am fine. It might be bruised but it’ll be gone with time.”

You look at him, face full of regret, “Seonghwa, I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright, (Y/N).” He says with the most assuring look that there is in this world, “I mean it.”

You were worried that he might be mad about the commotion but him unlinking your arms in order to hold your hand was an indication enough that he wasn’t.

His anger is often intelligible. He needs the time to stay mad, cool down and talks only when he is ready. The time creates an emotional distance and that distance is unbearable until his heart is ready to resolve.

He doesn’t hold petty grudges. He certainly forgives but he doesn’t forget. Instead, he draws the line in the relationship to grow apart naturally.

You happened to experience it once when he was conversing with a senior who had given him a hard time and oh boy, the line he drew was fiery and bone chilling cold at the same time.

“So, that was definitely not what I expected after I decided to surprise you.” He confesses, his eyes mellow, “I should’ve listened to Hongjoong when he said that the idea is too sappy.”

While he speaks, you’re occupied with staring at him like a hawk with bulbous eyes.

“What happened?” He prompts you to speak, a fond smile on his lips. “Cat got your tongue?” His fingers fix the disheveled hair resting on your forehead.

His eyes hold such raw warmth while he merely tucks little strands behind your ears that you fail to realize you have tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Hey, why are you crying?” His expression shifts into a concerned one. “What happened?” He probes further.

Before you register your actions, your hand is flying to land a soft blow on his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me you were returning today!”

Maybe the volcanic eruption that was swirling inside San somehow descended into you. The difference is, his was motivated by rage and yours might be motivated by mortification.

He retrieves his hand to hold the area you’re attacking, gaping as he rubs the sore spot.

“Why are you hitting me!” His expression is muddled.

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but you hitting him after he attempts to calm you down as his plan of surprise fails worse than the time he had failed history in sixth grade.

Your hand reaches out to land another gentle smack. “What are you! A freaking saint! Why didn’t you tell me!”

Even you are not aware why the outlet chosen by your feelings is hitting your loving and caring boyfriend who planned such a great surprise that you managed to ruin by knocking him straight into the abdomen with your pointy elbows.

“Wait, what--” Your words only further deepen his confusion.

The next smack or rather love tap, as per your definition, doesn’t get through as his hands are quick to catch yours by the wrists.

“Why are you hitting me babe?” He tilts his head to the side. “You’re hitting me because I am nice?” He lifts his right brow. “What, a saint?” A playful smile lingers on his lips.

The audacity of this man to act coy with you when you are full of all sorts of emotions whirling within you like a raging tornado. The audacity of this perfectly, perfect man!

With your slightly puffy eyes and tears stained cheek, you profess. “I am embarrassed okay! I am really embarrassed, I screamed so----”

A tch sound comes from him, followed by a, “Idiot.”

He pulls you into him through the hold he has on your wrists, your chest colliding with his. His arms wrap around your waist in a secure manner, head resting sideways onto the comfort of your shoulder that he dearly missed.

You melt like an ice cream on a hot day under his touch, taking no time to find content in his embrace, face nestling into his warm neck.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He removes one hand from your waist to offer comforting caresses on the back of your head. “I don’t know what I expected your reaction to be. Honestly, this particular one didn’t even cross my mind.”

You lift your head from his neck but he quickly returns it down again.

“I didn’t expect you to appear in front of me a week before your actual arrival either.” You speak in a muffled voice.

He pauses his stroking for a second, “I knew you were clueless but I didn’t know you were this clueless.”

“Excuse me!” You shuffle in his hold but he has you latched onto him.

He nestles further into your hold, almost pulling you onto his lap out of habit.

“Seonghwa!” Palms pressing against his chest, you try to scuffle away and receive a disgruntled noise from him.

Having performed his action only halfway through, your right leg sits on top of his left thigh and you leave it there to dangle idly.

“Dude, we’re in a public place.” You remind him, placing a sneaky little peck on his neck.

It’s the courage after announcing you’re an idiot to the entire world.

He is astounded by your actions but definitely not as much as you are.

Seonghwa expected a surprised embrace on his return. Anything but you mentioning that you’re in public and then proceeding to plant the softest kiss on his neck, not that he minds the latter.

“Wise words coming from you in a public place.” His thumbs trace circles on your collar bones, voice adding an extra emphasis to the ‘public’.

He squeezes you tightly and moves you in his hold like you’re his own personal teddy bear causing laughter to escape from your lips.

“Giving you a basic hug after you come back after almost a month and a half?” You declare like you have performed some high and mighty act, “No, that is not enough to express my excitement, I had to smash out my love on you, babe.”

His face dawns an unimpressed look. “Yup, I made a mistake coming home.”

Your own words cause your face to scrunch up with cringe. “Yeah, that was too much, don’t talk about this in front of anyone, ever again.”

You missed him. God, you missed him so much.

His long hair is intact, not a single strand has been snipped. He looks as stunning as you imagined him to be. His navy blue coat may have been washed with a different detergent than the one you are familiar with but the earthy smell of his regular perfume is present.

The only new additions on him that you can notice right away is the blinding glow on his sleep deprived face and the abstract patterned scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.

“I missed you.” You wish to say it as softly as possible but you end up blurting out the words.

He smiles with twinkles in his eyes. “I know, idiot. I missed you too.”

You rest your palms on his cheeks and press them hard, lips protruding out in a pout. Pulling him in, you offer him a brief peck.

A long one is saved for later when in private.

The heat on his cheeks is an evidence that he is taken aback by your bold actions.

“First a kiss on the neck and now a long peck?” He smirks, eyebrows dancing up and down. “You’ve become quite gutsy within a month and a half huh?”

You fawn, “and you’re still carrying your mischievous habits with you! I was praying for you to leave them behind during your vacation. Did you achieve nothing?”

“Come here you!” His hand clasps behind your neck but this time he connects his lips to the side of your forehead to plant the deepest kiss.

You shriek as the prolonged peck soon transitions into pillowy lips peppering feathery kisses on every little endearing spot he discovers to shower his love.

Unable to suppress your delight, subdued giggles bubble out of you.

The delight of having him by your side again is indescribable. The current state of happiness you’re feeling is indescribable.

You feel his hovering lips expanding into a smile, foreheads faintly clashing together as you two laugh your heart out.

There are tears forming in your eyes but this time due to happiness rather than humiliation.

Your eyes catch the sun dipping below the horizon, shooting colourful rays as it bids goodbye for the day. “Seonghwa, look, the sunset, it’s so beautiful.” You note while he pulls you into him sideways.

He hums, turning around to admire the view, “Oh wow, that’s......beautiful.”

Time slows down just for the sun to submerge into the horizon with its glory. The orange, pink, purples and blues of the sky press mute on the world for the briefest interval.

He ruffles your hair, pulling you out of a trance, “And that’s our cue to leave.”

It takes special effort to abandon his comforting hold and get back up on your two feet.

The disappointment lasts a mere second as his fingers quickly interlace with yours. “Where to next?” He asks.

He takes slow steps. You stick close by, half of your body weight leaning into him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

You consider your choices for a moment, the grin ever present on your lips, “How about we take a walk and then drive to the river side? I heard there will be star gazing event later at night.”

He looks at you impressively with a questioning smile. “Oh really, who told you that?” A gentle gleam of fondness floats in his eyes.

His heart is swelling with love, your presence is comfortable.

You channel your best know-it-all face, “Oh, you know, Wooyoung, San and I were planning to--”

The sentence stops midway as you remember, Wooyoung and San!

Your movements halt, “Wait, Wooyoung and San!”

He cracks up at your delayed realization.

“They’ll be fine.” His fingers offer a gentle flick on your forehead, attempting to tap some sense into it, “Unless, you know, you want them to continuously comment during our date about how my arrival disrupted their last night’s sleep.” He reaches out for his pocket to pull out his phone but you’re quick to prevent the said action.

“No, no, no, no.” Your reaction amuses him further. “That’s not what I meant. I am glad they ditched me, goodness, never been so glad that someone left me behind, swear to god.” The flurry of words scatter everywhere but the intended meaning has been received by him.

“And what else do you have planned for the night?” He asks, walking straight, exaggerating the breadth of his shoulders.

“My fantastic company, Seonghwa, what else do you need?” In a wounded voice, you question.

He shakes his head.

“No?”

“No.”

“Fine, tonight’s dinner is on me, no budget. What do you want to eat?” You present your best offer in the most sugar coated tone.

His jaw drops in a dramatic fashion you’ve never witnessed in your life, “That’s it? Woman, I flew in today to surprise you today and that’s it?”

You stand on your tiptoes to whisper a special spell in his ear. “Who said that would be it?”

The rasp in your voice has goosebumps rising on his skin.

“What do you mean?” He stares down, eyes wide.

“Hey, by the way, how did you know I was near the fountain?” You quickly change the subject, your thoughts running wild and heart ready to pounce out to run a hundred mile marathon.

“What do you mean?” He repeats, eager to receive an answer.

His innocent smile has been replaced by a devilish smirk.

His constant questioning and hopeful gape has you regretting your previous words, causing warmth to spread on your face.

Flustered, you recite your question for the second time, “Tell me, how did you know?”

“It was a guess. I haven’t forgotten about your pigeon feeding adventures near the mall fountain” His answer is concise, to the point and hurried. “Now, tell me, what do you mean?”

He finishes the topic within a few seconds, arm nudging persistently against the side of your stomach.

This man. Oh god, this man.

“You have a great memory! You remember everything!” The fake enthusiasm and flustered laughter that is evident in your answer has him laughing. “Oh, look, we’re here!” You announce, feeling grateful once you spot the main exit getting closer with every step.

“What did you mean?” He takes quick steps to stand in front of you, his hand leaving yours.

“Seonghwa! Stop it, don’t get back on your teasing shenanigans so quickly, give it a day.” You say as casually as possible, stepping aside to continue on your way. “I’ve embarrassed myself and you quite enough for today.”

Seonghwa slings his arm around your shoulder from behind, “Yeah, alright, we’ll see about that later.” He mimics your casual tenure. “I guess.” He adds, hinting at your suggestive statement.

You nod in agreement, appearing calm and cool, “Yeah, I guess, we will.”

“You little tease.” His free hand gives your left cheek a little squeeze, leaving a light aching.

You stumble a little on your way out of the garden, “If I am a tease that makes you the devil that you truly are.”

“I agree, I am a beast.” He really, actually, dares to say that with his whole chest, out loud.

“Yeah, sure, little baby.” Your fingers mockingly stroke his chin with a pout

He chuckles, changing his position to properly stand by your side. “Enough of that now, let’s go, I am starving.”

“Yup, let’s go, tender beast.” You imitate his own words on him.

“No, seriously, stop that.” He declares sternly.

You do a motion of zipping your lips, holding your free hand up in surrender.

Oh, how the tables have been turning constantly today. You can now understand why Seonghwa never gets off your back and it looks like you will not be getting off his tonight.

Metaphorically and literally.

Meanwhile, Woosan

San, who has been talking with the professor for almost thirty minutes now: It was pleasure meeting up with you Sir

Wooyoung, releasing a sigh of relief beside his friend because he didn’t understand a single word that was exchanged, internally: Finally

Suddenly, San: Oh btw sir I had another question

Wooyoung, ready to create a rampage right there and then, grabbing a chair to smash it on the ground: OH MY FREAKING GOD DAMNIT CHOI SAN YOU---

🌸

A/N: OH MY GOD I CAN FINALLY POST THIS, I CAN FINALLY BREATHE EASY

I started writing this last Saturday and it went through so many drafts and versions, getting cut down to this one. It took me a week mostly due to other commitments. I edited this once and I am sure it still has teeny tiny mistakes but please look past that for now. I will correct it whenever time grants me.

Also, I would really love to know what you think about this chapter! Please let me know, I would really appreciate that 🥺🥺🥺💕

I know it has been a long time since the last update but I reposted the masterlist with the final update schedule and it will update and end accordingly as per that.

(Also the woosan scene is a little exaggeration, they had a rough night, as you will see in the bonus)

🌸 Taglist:

@enigmaticsal @stardusthyuck @missiopk @preets-kpop-world @sanisms @jiyeons-closet @hongjoongsnoona @veeeenus4 @mochibabycakes @vhschs @jaeminbluee @vantclavs @f-iyan @staywritten @yellow-wxve @uppiespuppy @uppiespuppy @mingiflower @multiangell @quicklystickystarlight @kunhye @nekee-lilac02 @peachyprincessminki @hidden-wildflowers @raysanshine @skzpleasestay @tearvantae

🌸 Unable to tag: @mingiibabiee @dreamie-deonghwa @9songbird19 @retrofuture-ism @aratrikade

🌸

Please do not repost, modify or claim this work as yours.

#ateez #ateez social media au #ateez fake texts #ateez text au #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenario #ateez au #ateez sm #ateez social au #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jung yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

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gunnm · 3 years ago

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So hot take...the Microsoft acquisition of Activision/Blizzard is not a bad thing for the gaming industry as a whole. In fact, it will have the inverse effect and will force Sony (more so than anyone else) to innovate rather than continue to be complacent. So let me break down why exactly I feel this is the case. This is all just analytical at the end of day with me being on the outside looking in:

Around last year, Activision/Blizzard's market capitalization was valued around 71.6 billion so the "seemingly" exorbitant cost of this acquisition is actually pretty justified (especially when it seems that for a while Act/Blzd seemed to be looking for a buyer). Activision after acquiring Blizzard quickly became the one of the single biggest players in the industry in terms of value. Gaming as a medium of entertainment has grown astronomically in terms of profitability and popularity over the last 15 years. Especially when you add mobile gaming into the equation but we'll leave that for another discussion. With the rise of gaming, operation and development costs have skyrocketed in tandem as well. Even with a publisher as large as Activision, doing everything in house is incredibly expensive. While you can argue over their business tactics, outside of Take Two you can't disagree with the fact that Activision's savvy business moves especially when it came to their IPs like CoD are what made Activision as profitable as it is today. When you bring investors into the equation as well, you end up having expectations for projected growth, especially when you're as big of a company as Activision. With these expectations you end up having to take drastic measures to keep up the same level of profitability as you had the previous fiscal year if not seeing some growth going into the next. After all this is why investors invest, to see growth and get some degree of monetary return. Unfortunately Activision had grown so much that it began to avoid risky ventures with new IPs and even existing IPs. They decided to stick with what sold and continued making a profit, which was CoD and their existing Blizzard properties (Overwatch, WoW, etc). Which in turn obviously stagnated any type of creativity or innovation amongst their studios (unless it was generating $$$). Hence what probably led to them shopping around for a buyer because the signs of missed potential with the company's existing properties was evident since they started shuffling a lot of their existing studios (Toys For Bob, etc.) towards supporting CoD and Warzone. With the support of Microsoft you'll see a lot more variance as well as more quality releases, and this should trickle down across the board amongst a lot of their titles.

My next point concerns the Microsoft end of this deal. If you truly believe Microsoft acquiring Activision/Blizzard is a borderline monopoly of the industry you need to reevaluate and count how many major publishers are left. Let's list them shall we: Tencent (valued at $73.56 billion in 2020), EA (valued at $5.54 billion), Take Two (valued at $3.09 billion), Bandai Namco (valued at $3.02 billion), Square Enix (valued at $2.39 billion), Ubisoft (valued at $1.44 billion), Konami (valued at $1.3 billion), Sega (valued at $1.15 billion), Capcom (valued at $767 million), as well as 505 games, Warner Bros., Koei Tecmo and many others. See a pattern with a lot of these publishers? They're pretty spread out all over the globe, with a pretty large concentration of major publishers in Japan. From my understanding, major mergers like what we're seeing with Activision/Blizzard are not common and will not be common with these companies, especially if they're based outside the US. From what I understand, Japan has way more stringent anti-trust and merger laws than here in the US, major acquisitions aren't that common there. So people really need to relax with these ridiculous notions like what if Sony or Microsft try to acquire Square Enix or some dumb hypothetical like that. It's definitely true that with Microsoft acquiring Activision/Blizzard Sony will at some point lose out on access (or at the bare minimum immediate access with some form of time exclusivity) to one of its biggest bridges to the casual crowd which is CoD. But this won't overall slow down the PS5's projected growth since their first party games have always been targeted towards the more hardcore gaming crowd. With this power move, Sony will have no choice but to innovate to maintain their level of market share because I'm sure beyond this Microsoft is not completely done acquiring studios but they may go silent as far as doing so for quite a while. Sony's gonna have to just come out hard with great games and a similar service to rival Gamepass (which is the whole purpose of all these acquisitions from Microsoft to begin, which is to indoctrinate new people into the Gamepass ecosystem). Gaming might move towards a subscription service model and Xbox is looking towards the future, Series X/S units sold don't mean much to them but with them already having 25 mil. subscribers on Gamepass already, makes it very evident that Xbox is on its way towards where they want to be in the industry. This went on longer than I wanted but in conclusion, this is not a monopoloy and this will only help to serve you (the consumer) better in the long run as it stimulates healthy competition, thanks for reading. /hot take

#this took forever to write and i'm refuse to proofread this shit #but there you go its out in the ether #and no i'm not an xbox fanboy this is just how i feel as a agnostic console gamer as im a person that plays on every platform (pc too)#nvm i proofreaded it

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Girl I Met On The Internet, 6/6 (Crystal x Gigi) - Strawberry

a/n: and it’s a wrap! for now anyway bc i totally dont have a fic coming based on the good news nicky had for jaida! i just want to say thank you to every single person who read, liked and reblogged this story. it means so much to me, i’m so glad people enjoyed the strange idea that came into my brain. <3 (also! i wanted to let you guys know that i’m planning on posting this fic on ao3 as well, probably after this chapter is posted on here. my username on there is drivingmecrazy !!)

crystal: does everyone’s spring break start this weekend too?? anyone doing anything??

jan!: mine does! i’m staying home all week, jackie is leaving me :(

nicky: my spring break isn’t until late april!! wtf :(

heidi: ha loser

heidi: i’m going to play animal crossing all weekend i can’t wait

Jackie: I’m going to Canada to visit family on Sunday. Jan, if you want we can hang out on Saturday if you’re going to miss me that much. :P

nicky: i’ll hang out with you jackie

jan: i hate you nicky

jaida: i have a pageant next week!!

jan!: yaas gorg

nicky: bring home the crown!

crystal: GO JAIDA!

nicky: also jaida call me. i have good news for you :)

gigi: crystal you already know what’s going down

crystal: do i now?

gigi: GOOD LUCK JAIDA!!! NO MATTER WHAT YOU ARE OUR WINNER

Crystal had somewhat of an idea of what was going down. She had been granted permission to sleep over at Gigi’s house, and they would be going on their date the following day. Gigi would not tell Crystal anything about where they were going, and refused to give her any hints no matter how much Crystal begged.

The next morning, on their walk to school, Crystal finally got a hint.

“You tweeted about it. That’s all I’ll tell you.”

“That’s not helpful at all!” Crystal had almost 30 thousand tweets, her Twitter was her space to say weird things without being judged too harshly, and she had a lot of things to say! She thought about things she might’ve tweeted about wanting to do, or places she wanted to go, but came up empty handed.

“Well, you have the whole day to think about it. I’ll meet you after school, yeah?”

Gigi’s mom offered to pick them up after school, even though the walk from their school to Gigi’s house wasn’t far. Crystal finally met Nancy, Gigi’s beloved dog. Crystal didn’t want to do anything besides hold the dachshund to her chest all night, but Gigi wouldn’t let her, saying it wasn’t fair for Nancy to get all of the attention even though Gigi does the exact same thing with Tic Tac.

They made homemade pizza for dinner, and played monopoly with Gigi’s parents and her brother. Gigi’s brother thought Crystal was cute, and hit on Crystal; trying out a ridiculous pickup line on the green haired girl every chance he got. After they called off the game, Gigi excused her and Crystal to her room.

“So quick to leave, Georgina,” Crystal teased, sitting down next to Nancy who was using Gigi’s strawberry cow pillow pet as a headrest.

“Wanna spend time with you. Can we cuddle?”

“Yeah, of course.”

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company until Gigi spoke up.

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Couldn’t do what?” Crystal asked, lost.

“Come out to my friends. I thought I was ready but obviously I’m not.”

“It’s okay, Gigi. You’ll know when it’s time, don’t rush it.”

“I just want to be more open, I guess.”

“That’s good, but it’s not going to happen overnight. You have to take baby steps, G.”

“Was it hard? To come out?”

“To who?” Crystal snorted, “You know I don’t have any friends. I’m pretty sure everyone at school already knows, though.”

“Does your mom know?”

“Probably. She got a little too suspicious when I started liking Poppy.”

This turned into revealing who their first gay crush was, and how and when they figured out they liked girls like the rest of their friends liked boys. Crystal told Gigi about how she originally tried to fake like One Direction so no one would suspect anything, and Gigi told Crystal about how she refused to listen to any music sung by female artists for half a year before they decided to go to sleep.

Crystal had woken up first. She didn’t bother waking up Gigi, going to scroll through Twitter instead. It was still early, but the group chat was on some bullshit, Jan changed her display name to Nicky and changed her profile picture to Nicky’s to mock her. Nicky did not find this funny in the slightest, but Jaida did.

nicky: i’m nicky i’m french i love stealing my friends gfs

jaida: omg period!

THE REAL nicky: JAIDA THAT’S NOT ME!!!

jaida: proof?

THE REAL nicky: I HATE IT HERE!!

nicky: croissant

crystal: HELPDGNJKFNJ

THE REAL nicky: i cannot stand jan. this is why jackie should date me instead

Crystal couldn’t stop laughing, which ended up waking Gigi up. Gigi was grumpy at first, but that changed when she realized they needed to get ready to go on the date she had planned.

After they had gotten up and dressed, they sat next to each other in front of the giant, floor length mirror next to Gigi’s closet to do their makeup. Gigi stopped doing her makeup after putting on her foundation, deciding that watching Crystal do her eye shadow was more entertaining than finishing the look she had in mind.

“Stop looking at me, you’re making me nervous!” Crystal giggled when she noticed Gigi’s stares, not actually wanting Gigi to stop.

“I’ll think about it,” Gigi paused, pretending to think, “I will not. You look beautiful.”

Crystal squawked, “I barely have anything on my face!”

“So?”

“What are you, gay or something?” Crystal teased, making Gigi poke at her sides, “Stop being a dork and finish your makeup!”

“Fine. Only because we need to get going soon.”

“Wait, you know how to drive?” Crystal asked, getting in the passenger seat.

“Yeah! I don’t have my own car yet, but I got my license on my 16th birthday. I am not enforcing the stereotype at all!” Gigi grinned, opening the garage door and starting her mom’s car.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Can I play music?”

“Yeah, sure.” Gigi handed her the aux cord and started backing out of the driveway.

“Okay. This is the ultimate test,” Crystal stated, starting to play a song. “Which One Direction song is this?”

The song in question was good, but Gigi didn’t recognize it. She had only listened to ‘Midnight Memories’ because it was Crystal’s favorite album, and she knew for sure Crystal wasn’t playing a song from that album. “Is it from ‘Made in the A.M’?”

“Trick question! It’s one of Niall’s solo songs. It’s called ‘Dear Patience’!” Crystal laughed, thinking she had pulled off the biggest prank in the world.

“Oh, fuck. I should’ve known there was only one person singing.”

After fifteen minutes of driving, and Gigi almost running a stop sign, they finally pulled up at a cute little thrift shop on the outskirts of town, and Crystal was just about shaking with excitement. “I love thrifting! I’ve only been once, but it was so fun! I found that jumpsuit I wore that one day while thrifting!” She rambles, rushing to get out of the car and inside.

“Wait, when I did tweet about this?”

Around the time they had first started talking, Crystal had tweeted about how her dream date was going thrifting. Gigi naturally stored this information in the back of her mind, even though at the time she never thought she would need it.

On their walk from the parking lot to the store, Crystal held her hand out, which Gigi hesitantly accepted.

“We should play a game! We should split up and pick out an outfit for the other person without them knowing and then meet up and try them on!”

Gigi’s heart swelled, Crystal was so cute. “That sounds fun, but how do I know this isn’t just a trick to dress me up in something hideous?” Gigi teased, making Crystal blush.

“I would never, don’t be ridiculous,” Crystal scoffed, “I’ll save that for the next time we go thrifting!”

Crystal let go of Gigi’s hand to open the door for her, splitting up as soon as they walked into the shop.

It didn’t take them very long to pick out their pieces. Crystal stayed true to her word, picking out a light green, halter top dress for Gigi. Gigi, on the other hand, had picked out a hideous pair of neon pink, zebra print leggings and a red flannel shirt.

“Gigi, what is that?” Crystal scrunched up her nose in disgust.

“You like patterns, why not clash them?” Gigi tried to defend herself, but could barely finish her sentence before bursting out laughing.

“No! I’m not getting that! I’m not even going to try on that outfit. It’s yucky.”

“That’s fine, give me the dress you picked out for me. I need that.” Gigi snatched it from Crystal’s hands, walking quickly to the dressing room.

The dress looked gorgeous on Gigi. Crystal was so glad she took their game seriously.

They looked around together for a little bit before wandering from each other yet again. Gigi somehow ended up with a pile of clothes that you would only see in a very successful thrifting haul video on YouTube. Crystal had stuck to the men’s section, immediately claiming some loud button ups and with a little digging, she found a very specific, out of place t-shirt that said something about how ‘real grandmas drink Dr. Pepper’ that she found hilarious and needed to own.

“What does that say? Some grandmas play bingo, real grandmas drink Dr. Pepper?” Gigi questioned when they finally met back up, “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, but it’s sending me. I need it!”

“So you hated my outfit I got for you, but you’re buying that?” Gigi teased.

“You do not understand the art of highly specific shirts, like these, babe. I’ll have to teach you all about them later.”

Gigi thought Crystal was an idiot, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

After paying for their clothes, they got back into the car. Gigi started driving, not telling Crystal where their next stop was. The stop happened to be the Taco Bell drive thru, which Crystal was excited about. “Okay, I do remember tweeting about wanting to go to Taco Bell.”

When they got their food, Gigi placed the bag in the back seat, making Crystal raise an eyebrow.

“You’re a messy eater, so we aren’t eating in the car. My mom would kill me if we made a mess.”

While Crystal tried to convince Gigi she was not a messy eater and her mom’s car would be fine, Gigi pulled up to a park.

“Can you find a spot to sit down at so we can eat it there?” Gigi requested. It took Crystal about two seconds to travel from the car to the grass, settling down in a shady spot underneath some trees. Gigi joined Crystal, holding a blue blanket as well as the brown paper bag.

“It’s not a picnic blanket, I couldn’t find one but I hope it works.”

“It does! I love picnics!” Crystal hops up so Gigi can lay down the blanket, going to retrieve the drinks that they forgot in the car.

Their lunch was filled with flirting, stupid inside jokes and Crystal loved every second of it. She knew for sure by the end of the day she would not be single anymore, but the lack of confirmation was making her antsy.

Once they were done eating, Gigi collected all of the wrappers and cups, walking across the grass to the nearest trash can to dispose of them. When Gigi came back, she had a huge grin on her face, “Well, Crystal Elizabeth. I would like to think that I successfully wooed you, if only you could do something for me in return…”

“What do you have in mind, Georgina?” Crystal giggles, hoping Gigi couldn’t tell how nervous that statement made her.

“Crystal Elizabeth, I was wondering if you would be my girlfriend?”

“God, yes. I’ve been waiting for this for months.” Crystal exclaimed, immediately being pulled into a kiss.

They stayed at the park after that. Crystal’s inner child had jumped out after the kiss was broken and she wanted to play on the playground.

“Wait, Crystal! Come here, the light looks good right now and we need to take our reveal selfie!”

Their date came to an end when Crystal’s mom texted her asking to come home. Crystal’s mom had no idea what she was interrupting, as Crystal did not tell her mom what they were actually doing.

“I hate it here, I would let this date go on all week if I could.” Crystal pouted, buckling her seatbelt.

“If there’s any other place you want to go this week, we could go on our second date.” Gigi smiled, reaching out to hold Crystal’s hand.

“Be careful, I know steering with one hand is peak lesbianism, but I don’t know if you’re a good enough driver to do that yet.” Crystal joked, even though she gladly accepted Gigi’s hand.

“Oh, shut up. Like you could go ten minutes without holding my hand.”

Crystal kissed Gigi again when they got on her street, Gigi parking a few houses down for privacy.

“This was fun. I really am happy with everything. You completely wooed me, Georgina.”

“I’m glad. Does this mean I can call you my clown girlfriend now?” Gigi jokingly asked, making Crystal let out a tiny scream.

“As dumb as that sounds, yes. You can.”

Gigi did not let Crystal get out of the car without getting another kiss.

Crystal entered her house, her grin slowly fading when she saw her mom waiting for her.

“You took a while to come home.” Crystal’s mom started, under the impression she was at Gigi’s house. “What took you so long?”

“Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t find my charger.” Crystal felt bad for lying to her mom, but she didn’t want to tell her what happened yet.

“Oh, your generation and your phones. I was starting to get worried.”

“Mama, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’m going to my room now, is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’m about to start dinner. We’re having your favorite!”

The second Crystal got into her room, she locked her door and jumped on her bed, logging onto Twitter.

crystal: good evening l a d i e s

jan!: HEY!

jaida: crystal!

Jackie: You haven’t been active today, what were you up to?

heidi: not jackie demanding answers

nicky: ooooh

gigi: well, since you asked…

crystal: :D

gigi: my girlfriend crystal and i went on our first date today. isn’t she beautiful??

The group erupted into chaos the second they saw their selfie, congratulating the new couple for finally getting together. Crystal wouldn’t have it any other way. She would be forever grateful for being added into Elites Only, and even more for the special girl she had met there.

gigi: so, any ideas for our second date?

crystal: tons, babe. i’m gonna blow your mind.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #jackie cox #jan sport #jaida essence hall #heidi n closet #crygi #lesbian au #high school au #social media au #girl i met on the internet #strawberry #submission #s12

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