#⋆｡° ❝ new york state of mind. ┊ v. main.

[incorrect-jojolands-quotes]

brainstorming a main villain for jojolands

I've yet to draw this main villain but I have one in mind that's also based on this post I made predicting the overall story. Given how villains mirror the theme of the story by being unable to realize it or fail at achieving what the theme requires for them to succeed, I made a villain that would represent this for The JOJOLands.

I had this duo Stand ability for a while that also pairs well with the villain too. To not delay any further: meet Venice "V" Vuitton.

V, at the start of The JOJOLands, is the sole head and former heiress of the Vuitton fortune. Known as "new money" in Hawaii's elite, the Vuittons gained their obscene wealth from being major players in the hospitality and tourism industry. Despite their status, they are well-liked by the more "old money" members and have rubbed elbows with families like Howler during their time in the business. The Vuitton hotel chain is seen on every populated island of Hawaii and has spread to states like California and New York in the past 10 years; recently, it opened a new hotel in Japan to begin its international expansion post-COVID. Much of the Vuittons hold varying degrees of power, wealth and status as socialites but a power struggle in the 1990s led to only a few remaining Vuittons to hold onto the fortune: the patriarch grandfather and his wife, their two sons and their wives, and one of the son's daughter Venice. Her family calls her V and never refer to her as anything else but that.

V was the only child of her parents and lived with a silver spoon in her mouth all her life. Despite the Vuittons appearing close-knit and having a reputation of being a loving family, V would describe her childhood as lonely and neglectful. Money was used to give her anything but familial love and her education was more focused on making her become a future wife and socialite than help her follow her dreams or create good memories with her family. The conservative nature of the family and their constant moving around the world also made it difficult for V to keep friends; many kept in touch with her simply because of her connections and wealth. Eventually, V became rebellious and engaged in crimes like petty theft and drug usage in response to the lack of love and connection pushing her over the edge. Rather than use their money to provide her therapy or understand their child, V's parents instead sent her to an involuntary residential treatment center in an island of Hawaii in hopes of "straightening her out".

V spent her remaining teen years there being abused by the staff and one evening planned her escape with other teenagers who had similar upbringings. These teenagers, who were the first and only genuine friends she had, died while trying to escape due to the currents of the ocean. V nearly died trying to escape with them as well but the event helped her discover her duo Stands she never realized until then and used that to save herself.

"Frame by Frame" allowed her to see ten seconds of the past at any moment, manifesting itself as a polaroid camera she activates by taking a snapshot. Its complementary ability, "THE WAITINGMAN", allowed her to drop what she would call an "anomaly" into the past as many times as she wanted. Said anomalies are random changes in the past that either result in no changes in the present (a small rock moving one inch to the left) or a drastic change instead (making someone change their mind about killing someone). On a whim, she used her abilities to save herself from drowning that night; the anomaly dropped was a driftwood that helped her float back to the shore.

Realizing how she could change the past, she used her Stand abilities again to first prevent her friends from dying, then to avoid certain abuse from the center's staff, and eventually to prevent her parents from shipping her and her friends off to the treatment center all together. She began dropping frequent anomalies as a means to rewrite her past so that her family, once cold and unable to show her love, now became doting and kind to her in the present. V could tell by the photos and home videos, now heavily altered from what it was before, that the anomalies worked to transform her family into one that she yearned for all these years. Unfortunately, changing the past doesn't mean altering the memories she had of it; she could only see those "good times" she supposedly experienced in the past through the screen and everyone else never knew about the "bad times" she seemed to only remember. Her friends, as a result of surviving and never going to the treatment center, never remembered the trauma they went through with her or even knew her beyond being another Vuitton in the elite circles, another rich girl with connections and money. Everyone else's memories have been altered by the anomalies- except hers.

In response to this, V decided to use her Stands to kill off her remaining family and friends affected and she became the sole head of the Vuittons at age 20 as a result. She did this by carefully putting various anomalies in the past so that people died in different ways at different times in history; the deaths were seen simply as a series of absurd events that made people sympathetic to V's curated tragedy. It's implied that "power struggle" mentioned earlier was caused by V's abilities and she played along with what the media called "The Vuitton Curse". Now the new head of the family and of the Vuitton estate, her young age and reputation as a party girl made the media paint her as a ditzy, bratty socialite during the 2010s who frequented the Hawaiian party scene and is surrounded by similar socialites who she called her friends or besties. However, those behind closed doors knew her as a savvy businesswoman who is milking the reputation of "famous for being famous" to her own use. V was now a brand, the precursor to the modern social media star, and able to make the world view her at worst a caricature and at best an icon. She actually has no genuine friends beyond those she pretends to be friends with for the photos and connections. She uses her anomalies to alter and experiment with the past so she could maintain her Vuitton revenue while pretending to be a harmless "celebutante" that gained a cult following of fans who find her aesthetics and opulent lifestyle pleasing or ideal. The world mostly see her as a pretty socialite who's persona has created several edits and online content by the netizens that see her performance as "iconic" and nothing more. Ten years later, at age 30, she would encounter and go up against Jodio Joestar in the story. Another case of Jodio's team trying to go after a rich person's fortune and not realizing they're up against another Stand User, she finds out he's able to see her abilities, how she was behind almost every aspect of his own life going down the drain. She becomes threatened with the possibility that her coveted powers are going to be taken away by him. That may be how her story ends: forgotten like the memories she altered, locked away in some form so no one could find her, and no longer having the ability that was supposed to save her.

Her current motivation in the story is boredom.

In her mind, she has already gained everything she wants and can get anything else if she desires within seconds if she wanted to. She has no use for achieving bigger goals, pursuing a better life, or finding new relationships to bond over when she can just use her Stands to get it almost instantly; she simply chooses not to. No one understands this about her and therefore no one is on her level or worthy enough to get on it. She is unable to make memories or experiences that are genuinely meaningful due to her Stands and therefore unable to share or bond with others over either. She doesn't desire to change anything for any reason other than to satisfy her boredom. Her days, if she's not partying or shopping or occasionally checking on her business ventures, are spent reading old news articles or history books to use Frame by Frame to find a point in time to manipulate and see what happens after she drops the anomaly (or several). At one point, she tried to use her powers for good and prevent global tragedies, but quickly became bored of "playing savior" and decided to just stick to only changing the past for her own pleasure instead. If you dig deeper, her fears stem from losing this upper status in life, this ability to supposedly play God, this boring and seemingly uneventful life disrupted. She knew what it was like to be controlled and lack agency despite being given everything on a silver platter- and she dare not return back to that.

While the ability results in altering people's memories, sometimes those memories of the previous past lingers on; people unaware of the Stand powers being used have cited the phenomenon as "Mandela effects". The most recent anomaly V dropped was making a certain bird trapped in a burning school bus.

So, yeah! That's all I have for V! Let me know what you think of her. You're also free to draw her as well if you like!

[sporesmoldandfungi]

Flip City - Sued

Author's Note: This rewrite of my original sequel is heavily inspired by Channel Awesome's video on how they would fix the Ghostbusters 2 movie. I'm going to use roughly the same plot points from that video because it's more appealing to me as a writer, but I'm going to make it my own with Genevieve's relationships with everyone, especially Egon. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

Dana Barrett walked down the streets of New York, her heels clicking against the city pavement. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a gentleman selling today's paper. She stopped to read the headline "Ghostbusters V. The State of New York, Trial Today". She stopped in front of the small stand and picked up a copy, quickly skimming through the first few paragraphs.

The man poked his head up from reading his own paper. He took a deep sigh before speaking. "Drives me nuts, ya know? Those guys put their lives on the line for the city and how do we repay them? By suing the shit out of them. Property damage be damned, they saved my life and my family's lives, as well as countless others, that should be enough."

Dana smiled softly, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

The man took another sigh, "Man, I wouldn't wanna be them right now."

"Well, it's not that fun for me either." She replied.

"Why do you say that?" He asked.

"I'm engaged to one of them."

Across the city, in a courtroom full of people, The Ghostbusters sat waiting for the trial to begin. Genevieve sat in the audience in the front row, leaning over the railing to speak with Egon and the others.

"Where the hell is Dana? She's a key witness." Genevieve whispered to the four boys, frantically looking back at the doors, waiting for Dana to come running in any second.

"Relax, she'll be here." Egon reassured her.

Genevieve shut her eyes tighter than she ever did before, shaking her head slightly, as if when she opened them again, this whole mess would be gone, and things would be how they were before. But when she opened them, all she saw was Egon's worried expression. "I can't lose you, Egon."

"You won't." He spoke.

She shook her head again. "It's hard enough having to deal with the aftermath of having my entire mind and body taken over by a Babylonian god and watching from the front row as I almost killed everyone I loved. But to sit here and watch the four most important people in my life get locked up for fixing MY mess, I can't do it."

"Sumerian." He corrected, making Genevieve look at him puzzlingly. "You said Babylonian, Gozer is a Sumerian god. Gosh, you should know that above all." He teased, earning a sly smile from her otherwise worried expression.

"Well, when you suddenly get possessed, your main focus isn't what kind of god they are. So, excuse me for my ignorance." She quipped back. Her attention suddenly shot back to the matter at hand. She looked her wristwatch, showing her there were only five minutes until the trial began. She tapped Peter on the shoulder, "Venkman, where is Dana?"

Peter turned around, still looking unimpressed even though his whole future depended on the trial. "Dunno, she's supposed to be on her way. And by the way, would you cool it, Gozy? You stressing back there isn't helping us. We got enough on our plate. We're pretty much royally screwed with our attorney."

Genevieve looked confused until Louis Tully came stumbling into the courtroom. His arms full overflowing with documents and folders, almost dropping a few as he approached the Ghostbusters. With all of them being strapped for cash, he was the best they could do. He dropped his things on the table with a loud thud then leaned into the group, quietly and worriedly whispering, "I think you guys are making a huge mistake. I got my law degree at night school."

"That's alright, Louis, most of this happened at night," Ray said, promptly slamming his head on the table afterward.

The judge banged his gavel a couple of times, gaining everyone's attention. The Ghostbusters looked over to the prosecution and saw Walter Peck sitting with a few other lawyers, a smug smile plastered across his face.

"Before we begin this trial I want to one thing very clear. The law does not recognize the existence of ghosts. I don't believe in them either. Don't wanna hear a lot of malarkey about goblins and spooks and demons. We're gonna stick to the facts in this case and leave the ghost stories to the kiddies, understood?" the judge spoke, taking off his reading glasses and fixing his documents.

Winston scoffed, turning towards the others, "Sounds like a pretty open minded guy."

"They call him 'The Hammer'." Egon replied. Genevieve groaned and placed her head in her hands, her hope fading away with each second. Egon turned around, gently lifting her head up and caressing her cheek. "It'll be okay, no matter what. I love you."

She smiled into his hand, kissing it gently, "I love you too."

The gavel came down again, "All right, all right, let's get on with it."

Louis nervously approached the judge, fixing his glasses messily before speaking, his voice wavering with anxiety. He cleared his throat before speaking again, "Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the- of the audience. I don't think it's fair to call my clients frauds! Okay, so the blackout was a big problem for everybody, okay? I was stuck in an elevator for two hours and I had to make the whole time. But I don't blame them! Because one time I turned into a dog and they helped me. Thank you."

Chuckles were heard echoing in the courtroom and Louis held his head down in shame, walking back over to the Ghostbusters.

"Very good, Louis. Short but pointless." Egon said.

The trial seemed to drag on. City rep after city rep went on and on about the damages and costs the Ghostbusers caused. Walter Peck went on his usual spiel, claiming the Ghostbusters were frauds and no good liars. Louis made a fool of himself, Peter couldn't care less in his testimony, Ray cared more than anyone.

Egon couldn't even focus on what was being said, all he could hear was Genevieve's foot bob anxiously behind him. She hasn't been the same since Gozer. Sure, he was overjoyed to finally be in a romantic relationship with her, and she felt the same. But even that wasn't enough to stop the panic attacks, the nightmares, the anxiety that followed her every day. And he couldn't do much to help. He was stuck watching the love of his life morph into a shell of her former self, and it not only broke his heart, but it scared him beyond belief. Would she ever be that girl again? Or is this the new norm?

Below the city where the old Van Horn station used to be, a blood-red river of slime flowed directly below them. Churning and pulsating, fueled by the fear of every New Yorker, which nowadays, there seems to be a lot of. As the trial came to a close, the slime began to travel upwards, inching its way closer and closer to the surface, fueled by the fear and anxiety of the five Ghostbusters and the judge began to read the verdict.

"Peter Venkman, Raymond Stantz, Winston Zeddemore, Egon Spengler, stand up. Get up! You too, Mr. Tully. I find you guilty on all charges! I order you to pay fines in the amount of $25,000 each! I sentence you to eighteen months in the city correctional facility at Rikers Island! On a more personal note, let just me go on record as saying that there is no place for fakes, charlatans and tricksters like you in decent society! You prey upon the gullibility of innocent people!  And believe me, if my hands were not tied by the unalterable fetters of the law! And I would indulge in the tradition of our illustrious forbears reach back, to a purer, sterner justice, and have you burned at the stake!" The judge roars, fully rising from his seat with the last sentence.

As soon as the judge finished reading, or screaming, the verdict, the slime had finally penetrated the surface, slipping through a crack that lay directly beneath the judge. A loud explosion made the entire courtroom shake and a bright ray of light revealed two cackling ghosts, one tall and lanky, the other short and stout. Full-blown chaos broke out, people began screaming and ran out the doors, leaving only the Ghostbusters, Louis, the judge, and Walter Peck in the room.

The eight of them quickly ran for cover, trying to find a way out. The judge cried out to the Ghostbusters, "It's the Scoleri Brothers! I tried them for murder, gave them the chair! You gotta do something!"

"Why don't you tell them you don't believe in ghosts?" Egon quipped.

The ghosts cackled louder, chasing more people out the courtroom. The judge looked white as a ghost, shaking with fear, "You gotta do something, help me!"

"Don't talk to me, talk to my attorney." Ray said.

"And that's me! My guys are still under a judicial mistrangement order! That blue thing I got from her! They could be exposing themselves!" Louis said, waving documents in the judge's face.

"And you don't want us exposing ourselves!" Peter added, making Egon and Winston roll their eyes.

Walter Peck intervened, "Your honor, you can't actually be considering this."

As the judge, Peck, and the other Ghostbusters all argued with one another, Egon turned around to see Genevieve, shaking and holding onto herself tight. He approached her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She quickly grabbed onto him, holding on as tight as she could.

"I can't do this, Egon. I can't be a Ghostbuster." she said into his chest, a tear escaping her eye.

He held her close, stroking her auburn hair gently. "I'm afraid we don't have a choice, darling." He pulled her back so he could look at her in the eyes as he spoke. "We are the only ones who can stop things like this from happening. And you, Genevieve Stratford, are one of the bravest people I know. You have to take that fear and channel it into something deeper, something bigger than us, something that can light that fire in you and make you strong. Do you think you can do that for me?"

He saw the confliction in her eyes, but still, she nodded. "You're right, you're always right."

He smiled, "And I promise you, I won't let anyone, or anything hurt you, ever again, okay?"

She nodded again, "Okay, I trust you."

By the time Egon got a remnant of the old Genevieve back, Peck was being ushered away by the judge and the remaining Ghostbusters began walking towards their proton packs. They all suited up, groaning as they pulled the heavy proton packs over their backs.

"Oh… oh, I always hated this part of the business. You know, it's been a couple of years since we used this stuff. I hope it still works." Peter said, groaning as he adjusted the pack on his back.

"It should. The power cells have a half-life of five thousand years." Egon said, situating his and Genevieve's packs.

"Well, there's no time for a bench test! Heat em up!" Ray said excitedly.

Peter was the first to switch his on, a low musical hum ringing out. He smirked and sang, "Doe..."

Ray followed suit, smiling and joining in with a "Re..."

Egon followed, adding "Egon!". The others looked at him, but he just smirked, proud of his play on words.

The room began to vibrate with that familiar uneasy feeling whenever a ghost was present. Chairs soon began to fly up in the air, moving quickly towards the five Ghostbusters.

Ray quickly opens fire, the others following but they all miss. The Scoleri reveal themselves briefly then disappear. Thinking the job was already done, they slowly broke out into quiet chuckles and giggles. Peter got cocky and began to imitate the fat brother, but was caught off by the Scoleri joining in on the laughter, revealing themselves again.

Peter quickly fired and got a good grip on the fatter brother. "Come on big boy! Let's go! Let's go! I'm gonna take you home to my private zoo!"

"You got him! You got him! Spengie, bring out the trap!" Ray shouts excitedly.

The tall one, quickly flew behind Ray and Winston, catching Egon's attention as he grabbed the trap. "Behind you, Ray!"

Ray and Winston fired, catching it in a tight confinement stream. Genevieve ran towards Peter, seeing him struggle with the fatter brother. She fired and her proton stream wrapped around the waist of the ghost, dancing in harmony with Peter's confinement stream around the ghoul's legs. The two teams began to herd the ghosts towards where Egon was setting up the trap.

Before Egon activated the trap, both of the Scoleri brothers' heads turned to face Genevieve. In two deep and strangled voices they roared, "Join us, Genevieve."

Her eyes widened and she sceamed, "The trap, Egon!"

He quickly activated it, the portal blinding the five as the Scoleri Brothers got sucked into the trap.

The four boys laughed triumphantly, huddling around the trap. Genevieve was laughing too but was still trying to register what those ghosts just said to her. No ghost had ever spoken to her, let alone know her name. Egon held out his hand, and she accepted it, joining the huddle.

"Two in the box!" Ray began.

"Ready to go!" Peter and Winston chimed in.

"We be fast!" Egon and Genevieve added.

"And they be slow!" They all cheered.

They walked out of the courtroom, greeted by hundreds of reporters and onlookers. As Peter declared their victory, Genevieve stood back, trying to grapple the ghosts' message, "Join us." Egon looked over to her, giving her a reassuring smile. She returned it, smiling at the reporters and at Ray as he cheered triumphantly, but the Scoleri Brother's voices still echoed in her head.

"Join us, Genevieve."

[forgetyoursingalongsandlullabies]

I shouldn’t have checked my phone when I accidentally woke up. Now I’m fucking depressed and won’t go back to sleep. Trump hasn’t officially won yet but he has won. And I don’t know what to do. This feels so horrifying and dangerous for so many people. I know that I will probably be ok but I don’t care about just myself. I am most scared for trans people right now, my brother is trans so that’s the main thing on my mind above everything else but..

I am so scared for all people who aren’t white because Trump’s hate empowers the hate of others and racism is going to run rampant. I’m Filipino and Mexican, but sometimes I can pass as white. So that makes me safer? Yes. Because some people have no way to hide even if hiding isn’t something they’d ever try to do.

I’m scared for people who can get pregnant because we’ve already lost so many reproductive rights and even if Trump leaves it up to the states it can only get far worse before it gets better. I’m safer in this aspect only in the way that I live in New York where abortion is accessible. I’m very honest on this site that I’m a survivor of rape and I’m immensely lucky to have been living in California when it happened and that it happened when Roe v. Wade was still upheld. I can’t imagine the pain of someone who doesn’t have the rights to take care of themselves should anything at all occur that requires an abortion. There are people also, who do very much want children who will not be safe to get pregnant because any complications could lead to a hospital choosing a fetus over the life of the person carrying it.

I’m scared that the rights of Queer people will be stripped away. Marriage equality, adoption rights, discrimination, a rise in hate crime… I’m scared for trans people who are being so openly targeted right now. For trans children who are being focused on so closely. I can’t think too hard on how many will be hurt by Trump’s words and actions without crying. How many will face horrendous treatment, how many will closet themselves out of self-preservation, how many will face violence, how many will lose hope?

I’m scared for immigrants, and Jewish people and Muslims.

I’m probably forgetting demographics of people, not because I don’t care about them but because there is too much fear to be able to see its extent all at once.

How could this many people vote for someone that can cause this much fear and destruction? He is a convicted felon, a facist and a rapist. Some people voted for him because they are prejudiced and this is everything they want. What is more upsetting is that some people voted for this man because they knew all of this and they just don’t care about anyone but themselves. I can almost understand people who are just plain evil voting for another evil but to think of all the people who I might otherwise see as basically good who actually only care about themselves and would condemn this many other people for the sake of whatever they think they can get out of this for themselves? It’s so horrifying and disheartening.

I don’t want to go to protests and put myself on the line. I’m scared. But I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever I have to do.

I’m just so sad and scared that we’re here.

[georgemiser]

August 10th, 2006: 06:11 AM: Above New York City, New York, The United States.

"Oh my goodness, I-"

Annie January, better known nationwide as the Superheroine "Starlight," stood in the main hanger bay of the world-renowned Seven Satellite, Tropopausian airbase and long-standing HQ to Earth's Most Mighty, "The Seven", (forever anchored between the land below and the vast reaches of space above and, therefore, always in a position for Earth's greatest heroes to monitor threats coming from both,) staring up at the alien, yet all too human presence before her with a look of overwhelming joy and wonder on her young, 22-year-old face. Her short, White cape with its golden lining rippled gently in the morning breeze as the figure loomed over her, his soft, deepish voice contrasted by the sound of friendly, boyish amusement.

"You're our newest recruit. Why on Earth wouldn't I come to meet you?"

The figure in question was a man. A tall, muscular man standing well over 6 feet, who, if you looked at him, appeared to be somewhere in the age range of 27 to 36. His features, highlighted, as they were, by the splendorous light of the rising sun, were equal parts brutish thug and rugged, Hollywood handsome, from his high brow with its single crease and the Neatly combed golden hair atop his scalp to the slightly pugilistic Grecian nose, all the way to the seemingly perfect, friendly, reassuring pearly smile etched just above the Diamond shaped Jawline. This, plus the attire he was clad in; the blue leather leggings and Button-Flap Jacket with the red highlights and the squarish, v-neck collar, the star-emblazoned Scarlet gauntlets and boots, all visually held together by the red and white vertically striped cape with the golden star between the shoulder blades, connected to the jacket by a small, star-emblazoned pin on the left shoulder, linked, in turn to a large, golden, Great Seal eagle shoulder shield on the right by a small, light, golden chain. (The same Seal as that found on his golden belt buckle attached to the red mesh belt around his waist.)

And those eyes. Those blue, saintly eyes with their deceptive, half-awake appearance, hiding behind them such kindness, such humanity and understanding, left no doubt in Annie's mind as to who she was talking to and, more importantly, who was talking to her.

"Because you're...You're The Homelander...!" she managed to say, her back tingling at the knowledge that small, awkward little sentence brought. The things this man had seen, the rescues, the great battles, the crimefighting, the issues tackled both societal and social, the feats of strength, speed and gallantry which had earned him the unparalleled reputation he now enjoyed among his peers. From behind the white and gold dress with its long, sensible, modest skirt and again behind her own innie belly button, the butterflies were on the move. And yet, in that moment, Annie's smile could not have been wider. This was the man that heroes and civilians alike had looked up to for generations! The country's, no, The Earth's greatest champion, The Leader of its premier superhero group. A man often rightfully described as Soldier Boy and The Illuman rolled into one and here he was, talking to her face to face!

"John." The gentle, but deep voice again.

"J-John?"

"Yeah, John. John Gillman." The butterflies all seemed to drop dead in an instant. Was this real? Had The Homelander just willingly and casually shared his full name with her? And with such familial openness too. It took a moment for Starlight to take this in before she came back to reality, only to find the right, red-clad hand reaching out towards her.

"And it's not Starlight all the time, is it?" he asked her. Once more out of friendly humor rather than anything that might have resembled snark.

She stared up once again into those blue, semi-closed eyes and, although Homelander, John, stood a good two and a half feet over her, Annie felt no inclination that The Human Miracle (a nickname given to him by Vought's comic-making machine, Victory Comics who, by extension, was responsible for most of the nicknames superheroes possessed) was looking down at her as her right hand, covered by her golden cotton gauntlet with a similar star motif at the wrist, took hold of the larger figure's meathook.

"Annie. Annie January." Nothing in the known universe could have wiped away the joyous look on her face, as She and her childhood idol...well, maybe not idol per see, (There was Jesus to consider, after all) but certainly her childhood hero, stood in that cold hanger bay thousands of miles above the Hudson River shaking hands. Her body loosened and relaxed as the built-up tension she had carried with her flowed out of her skin like a burst of static, replaced by a sense of overwhelming excitement. Homelander chuckled.

He'd seen this reaction so many times before from non-team members. be it from visiting heroes, school kids from across the globe taking a tour of the satellite, or the face of A-Train when he had been selected to be their new speedster after Steve...Steve...he quickly banished that dark memory from his mind. There was still a lot of ground to cover with this one, and only time to say one more thing before they had to start:

"Welcome to The Seven, Annie."

John led Annie out of the hanger bay as the large, hydraulic doors slowly closed shut behind them. Before long, the costumed pair found themselves walking down the curved, circular passages and corridors of the Satellite's interior, all gleaming Tungsten, and Cruachanium (The Legendary Fae metal created by the alchemists of Queen Maeve herself and justly named after her realm back in Ireland) and, aside from the expected number 7 gimmick emblazoned on the walls, the ceilings, the doors and everywhere else you'd expect to find it, entirely functional and without frills.

That was what she loved the most about this place, Annie thought. Those with an eye for aesthetics and little understanding of anything else might have perceived The orbital fortress's recesses to be cold, ugly and without any sense of life. Annie understood differently. To her, it all showed a sense of modesty, discipline and restraint. Resistance to the sins of Vanity and Decadence.

True, most Superheroes tended to do their business in...less than Orthodox clothing, but that was different. There was always a sense of honor and tradition in those gaudy uniforms that she couldn't get enough of. Why else would she clad herself in a suit that, despite being marked with the familiar hues of the "Capes for Christ" open-air evangelical movement, was heavily inspired by The Homelander's own super-suit?

Right down to the addition of golden stars, including the one on her chest, The Five-pointer with the stylized comet trail around the top. Not to mention the earrings her Mom had bought her on the day She'd received her specially made costume from V.A,C. The one they'd designed together and sent off in the mail to them. Her gold-colored heeled boots with the tall collars that reached up to her knees clanked dully on the double reinforced Steel Treadplate floor in time with Homelander's as they made their way around. She was soon brought out of her daydream by a tap on her shoulder. It seemed that John had noticed her silent, faraway expression and asked her if she was alright. Given the way she'd been treated so far, Annie decided to be honest with him.

"I...Still can't believe I'm actually here..." She admitted in her high-pitched, girly voice that, despite her being in her early 20s, made her sound as if she were still a junior in High School. "It comes as no surprise to me, Annie." John replied encouragingly as they made their way past the rows of tower servers which held the vital information, battle plans and strategies that The Seven regularly used to protect not only Earth but all planets inhabited by intelligent lifeforms. "Your performance in the trials was remarkable."

Annie looked down at her feet, eyes closed, smiling as she tried her best not to turn pink to no avail. It was nice to be praised with such sincerity. It was then, however, that Homelander's tone suddenly changed. Not too drastically, but in a subtle way that sounded both genuine and cautionary at the same time without sounding threatening.

"We allow very, very few newcomers in The Seven;" he told her. "We simply can't afford to take the risk."

Of course, Annie knew that John was right to tell her this. Mostly because it was true. For how many times over the years, no, the decades, had The Avengers of the Innocent been infiltrated, bedeviled, passed and generally had their Homebase laid siege to by their enemies? Too many times, that was for sure. Not to mention the incident in 1979 where their old sidekick and Honorary Member ''Thump" Doggett, had sold out the location of their original hideout, The refurbished "Ghost Town" of Seven Hills, Indiana, to their then and now greatest foes: "The Sinners" and had been promptly banished and excommunicated by his former friends from their ranks for good following a hearing.

Up 'till the events of The Brooklyn Bridge disaster 5 years ago, the team dubbed "Earth's Most Mighty" by both Victory Comics as well as a grateful world populous, had been the closest, most effective and most disciplined team in the whole Hero Community.

There was, Annie reasoned, a reason for their team's name. It had nothing to do with elitism, as some had suggested. Keeping humanity alive prior to the Second Coming required them to keep things niche and tight-knit between them, lest the secrets they guarded fall into the wrong hands. The events of 2001, the tragic sacrifice of Mr. Marathon, The 2nd man to claim the title of "Fastest Man in the World", had changed everything. The reason why America's top Young Hero teams were down a member each.

''I know.'' she said at last, trying the wipe the smile off her face in vain. ''Please don't think I'm not taking this seriously. It's just...you know.'' She paused again, choosing her next words carefully. If she didn't sound like a silly teenager before, that sentence had sure made up for it. Once more, she chose honesty. "I've admired you for as long as I can remember...'' she said softly. "Your incredible kindness, how wise you are..." She was interrupted by a guttural chuckle from her left.

"You're going to have me blushing in a moment," John replied, looking down at the walkway the same way Annie was. Despite herself, the "Devine" Lumomancer couldn't help but chuckle as well. "Oh, I'm sorry." she apologized.

The two carried onwards, passing by one of the giant Cruachanium framed windows that gave a glimpse into the world outside, the sky still amber-tinted with the dawn. The only other things of note from the other side of that particular window being Stratocumulus clouds and one of the enormous Solar mirrors attached to one of the equally large Solar Cells that powered the entire Sky Station. Annie couldn't help but continue being in Awe of the whole setup.

"You know," she remarked, "This is Amazing. I mean, back in Des Moines, with The Young Americans...we didn't have anything like this." The Young Americans, of course, were Annie's old team, the ones she'd, sadly, left behind in Iowa and one of the two major "Teen" teams in the country. They'd been billed by VC as the "The Defenders of Des Moines", their base of operations, even though their missions covered a sizable chunk of the West North Central States, plus Arkansas, Oklahoma, the States of both Colorado and Wyoming and a tiny sliver of Canada beyond the central border. What most set them apart from other superhero teams of their demographic, in particular, "Teenage Kix", A-Train's old team which covered most of the original 13 colonies and Maine, was this:

In contrast to the more left-wing, counter-culture stylings of Shout Out, Popclaw, Whack Job and the rest of Kix Leader Big Game's group of 8, The Young Americans were pretty much Moderate-Classical Conservatives with Judeo-Christian religious leanings, members of a dying breed of American Youth that, despite all the reasons not to (and, admittedly, there were plenty of those.) still held things like Saluting the flag, the pledge of Allegiance, respect for elders, Duty to one's country, Sunday Church and "Waiting Until Marriage" in high regard. No surprise since a good chunk of the team were also followers of the aforementioned "Capes for Christ" religious movement, Starlight included. (This was how Big Idea had come to them with a pitch for a CGI Action-Adventure-Comedy series based on their exploits in 2000 a year after the team's founding, which they'd signed off on and, incidentally, which had ended up saving the Veggietales creators from financial ruin.)

At the time she, as Starlight, had been invited to The Seven tryouts in New York to replace the other former OG teammate, The Lamplighter, there had been 8 members of that YAs in total, but three above all that she couldn't help thinking about even now:

Drummer Boy aka Gabriel "Gabe" Phillips - the Team's leader and Starlight's boyfriend who had, as a teenager in Missouri, come across an ''Enchanted Drum and Sticks" belonging to an ancestor of his who'd been a drummer in the War of Independence on the side of the Colonies which, when played in certain ways, could produce a variety of effects from concussive sonic blasts to destructive soundwaves to hypnosis to even levitation. Inspired too by The Homelander, Gabe dressed in a patriotic costume complete with a blue domino mask, a huge gold star emblem and epaulets on his shoulders. He was the heart and the main brains of the team, the most approachable and the guy everyone else always deferred to in terms of training, religion, history and morale.

General Issue aka Christopher "Chris" Van Leer - A so-called "Military Brat" from Lawton, Oklahoma who, after a way too close encounter with a group of gemological terrorists while at his Colonel Dad's army base at Fort Sill, had been infected with a genetically enhanced, Compound-V dilated super-bug that, rather than killing him slowly, had instead given him Super Strength, Super Leaping, Bulletproof Skin, Peak Superhuman speed and agility and enhanced intelligence. Chris clad himself from head to ankle in Army Green, complete with a typical soldier's helmet, save for his own gold star emblem, black boots and Champagne-colored cape. He was the most serious of the Team, the one least likely to smile (unless tickled) and Drummer Boy's right-hand man in terms of Stratagem.

Holy Mary aka Mary Mancini - Abandoned as a baby on the doorstep of the monastery of the "Discalced Carmelite Nuns" of Littleton, Colorado, Mary had grown up under a vow of eternal silence. Raised by the Nuns and eventually joining them in their eternal quest for Self-Reflection, it came as a shock to all involved when she unlocked, during prayer one afternoon, Telekinetic and Telepathic powers along with Clairvoyance, Healing, Teleportation and Supernatural Empathy. Unable to bear the suffering of the outside world in solitude, she'd ventured out into the world and never come back; dressed in the traditional robes of the Carmelite sisterhood, but, with the addition of a white cowl that covered the top half of her face. She was the most powerful, and yet, the quietest of the Young Americans, choosing to talk either telepathically or in sign language. She was also Annie's best friend.

For her own part, Annie's "Secret Origin" hadn't been, to her at least, anything special. Her powers, which involved light manipulation/constructs, enhanced stamina, flight and enhanced speed (but only in flight) had manifested while she was in her 2nd year of Middle School in Des Moines. Doctors and Surgeons had called it an "Ultraviolet Mutation" but Annie and her parents knew better. These powers were a gift from God. A clear sign that he planned for her to become a Costumed Supe which, after a year of training at a Vought American Voluntary Training Facility in her city, she had done so.

"You miss them already, don't you?"

It was amazing, how well that man could read people. She'd miss them all, alright. Manuel Aguilar - The Standard, Thomas and Teresa Newton - The TNT Twins, even Alexander "Alex" Hill aka Supersonic. She and the Team's resident speedster had parted on bitter terms. He'd always dreamed of making it into The Seven and had been part of the trials to replace Mr. Marathon in late 2002, only to lose out at the last hurdle to A-Train. She sighed internally. Alex had behaved with outward Dignity and maturity as The Deep had sent him on his way with his usual brand of tough reassurance. Back home, it was a slightly different story.

No big tantrums or anything but he'd been quite sullen about it ever since. And now. with Annie now living his lifelong dream too, it'd just been too much for him. Never mind the fact that they'd both had strict competition from other Supes. (Annie herself had nearly lost out to The Starlike from Team Titanic.) But what hurt was that despite everything they'd gone through together as friends and teammates, Alex hadn't even come to see her off. Then she paused. It wasn't right to dump all this on Homelander right away. She'd wait till another time to air out her feelings.

"Yeah."

Of course, she knew she'd miss Gabe most of all. The two were, after all, quite in love and were pretty open about it, despite still being on first base, as indicated by their matching purity rings. Nevertheless, they did still love each other and being so far away from him...

But, of course, John had already caught on to her feelings, the natural empath that he was, and felt the need to pry. "Is there...Someone Special?'' he asked, in a tone akin to a Dad asking his daughter about a potential crush. Annie looked up at him and softened. It was easy to see why The Vanguard of Democracy was so beloved. Even with his imposing presence, he was a man you felt you could trust, that you could faithfully open up to. He just seemed to instinctively know what was on your mind at any given time when you were around him, encouraging the positive and helping you through the negative. Perhaps an inherent trait of his people, whoever they were, or maybe just a byproduct of his supernaturally brief initial upbringing.

She turned and smiled up at him, eyes now fully open, and briefed him on her and Drummer Boy's relationship. How they'd both met at a Capes for Christ Meeting when they were both 13 in one of the Junior Ministries run by Oh-Father himself. How they were waiting for marriage and didn't want to "ruin things" between them. All the while, John listened, only speaking to say "That's Great!" twice. And yet, despite this also fatherly encouragement, Annie couldn't help detecting what sounded like inflections of...maybe not disapproval but, perhaps, concern? There was no question that Homelander and CFC as a whole didn't always see eye to eye, what with the former being progressive on several key issues that the latter was not, Gay Marriage and Chastity being the biggest ones. Still, he hadn't shown her any distrust, otherwise she sure as shootin' wouldn't be up here. She decided that this topic should be left alone for as long as possible.

At this point, the Tour concluded. John led Annie to a set of Hydraulic automatic doors which parted and slid away, revealing a large white and grey room. Said chamber seemed to be Hexagonal in design with four walls at the base, two diagonal walls on top of those, the roof complete with a currently closed skylight and, at the far end, a long, six-sided half-oblong window out of which you would've seen more sunrise and more clouds. In the middle of the room, however, stood a long, grey rectangular table with two legs at its Southern and Northern ends. On either side of it and at the far North, were 7 comfortable-looking plush swivel chairs in Metallic Blue imitation leather.

"Oh," Annie exclaimed, as she and John walked over to the furniture. "This is where you-" "Yes." The veteran Supe interjected. "Have a seat. You've earned it." Annie looked at the arrangement of PC chairs in front of her and carefully inspected them. As she'd expected, In front of each one, on the table, was a small desk plaque in gold, on which was inscribed the name of a Team Member: The Homelander, Black Noir, Queen Maeve, A-Train, The Deep, Jack from Jupiter. Then, at last, she saw it. Where Lamplighter's own plaque had undoubtedly once been was now another, same as the others, but bearing her hero name in bold, Helvetica lettering. "Starlight." Annie gently placed her gloved hands on the back of the chair, her body trembling with excitement, unable to stop smiling.

"I'm really here." she murmured out loud, trying to keep herself as John nodded in affirmation. She was barely able to hold back the flood of emotions that now seemed to swallow her like a psychological tsunami, still wondering, as well she might, if all of this was some sort of dream. If it was, she knew one thing for sure. She didn't want to wake up. Suddenly, she remembered something that, momentarily, brought her back down to Earth.

"I know it's probably only temporary... But..." she paused. In her bliss, she'd forgotten the kind of Status Quo that, despite everything, endured in iconic team rosters and now, she felt as if she'd set herself up to inevitably fall when the ''real'' owner of that chair came back. John, in the process of removing the hook from the eye of his cape's gold chain, was trying his best not to frown in front of her. Not too much, anyway. She needed to be relaxed and at home to prepare her for what was coming.

"Well, I know that's what we said in the beginning, but I'll be honest with you, Annie:'' He paused, shaking his head solemnly. "I can't see The Lamplighter ever coming back.

"Annie's smile became a little more melancholic upon hearing this. It was a well-known fact that The Lamplighter and Mr. Marathon had been extremely close, practically brothers. Next toTthe Troika, the two were the Seven members most likely to be seen teaming up on missions. The New Prometheus and The Fastest Man on Earth. Aside from the aforementioned Troika (Homelander, Black Noir and Queen Maeve), No Alliance held together as strongly within the ranks of Earth's best line of defence. The death of his best friend had sent the pyrokinetic hero into a downward spiral of depression, so said the tabloids. One that had only gotten worse aster A-Train had been added to the roster. It's all been detailed by both the comics and the press. First the red and black costume, then the angrier, more standoffish attitude and finally, the sudden absence at a routine meeting in July of 2005, followed by an E-mail, mass forwarded to the rest of the team. An E-Mail with only two words:

"I Quit."

She finally settled into her hair as, for the first time, now that the initial awe had worn off, Annie realized just how sparse and undecorated the Seven's conference room appeared to be. She hadn't minded about the Rest of the Satellite but here?

"So, I thought you'd have all kinds of Trophies here, you know memorabilia from all your old battles...'' She didn't notice Homelander neatly folding his cape, prior to draping it over the back of his own chair. "We did..." he admitted. "All over the base, as a matter of fact. We donated most of them to the Smithsonian 5 years ago."

"Why? Too much clutter?"

"It just seemed to smack of Triumphalism." clarified John. "I was never too comfortable with that kind of thing." he placed his cape on his seat before continuing. "Some of the others disagree," (he politely chose not to call anyone out) "but I prefer to see what we do as spreading peace, not inflicting defeat." Annie's heart fluttered at the sound of that and through his super-hearing, John could hear her whisper to herself "That's so true..." in a reflective, edified sort of way. "This...you know," she said dreamily "It's the Pinnacle of everything I've ever hoped for. to serve with The Seven, I mean, there's just no higher a Super-Person can go.."

"I Told you, Annie." John replied, an aura of pride and respect in his speech. "You deserve it. You've worked so hard."

She deserved it...the words sank into the young heroine's mind and heart like water on a sponge. The warm welcome, the light humor, the Paternal motivation. All of it combined had finished off the kaleidoscope that she'd brought with her on the day she'd left the Midwest and her old life behind and flown through the evening and night toward The Big Apple. In that moment, her guilt over Supersonic, her concern for Lamplighter and her pining for Drummer Boy seemed to be suspended. She was here. She was officially part of the greatest selection of superheroes the world had ever known. Would ever know until Super-Duper came along in the far future. She closed her eyes one more time to envision it all. A lifetime of sacred deeds, incredible compassion and high adventure that, up till now she'd only ever dreamt of awaited her and, with the mentorship of John, The Homelander and her newfound friends, Annie knew that life could only get better from there.

"There's just one final test for you to pass," John remarked unexpectedly. "And I know you're going to excel at that too."

"Mm?" Annie's curious little squeak edited from behind her closed lips. With her eyes shut, she could hear noises. Strange noises. Grunted, a dull, metallic sound and then, nothing. Unable to hold back her curiosity any longer, she opened her eyes and looked over at John...

The smile faded. The eyes widened, the poor girl's jaw dropped in unspeakable, shocked horror. She tried to look away but it was no use! Her eyes were drawn straight to it! It was like looking at a train wreck! So big, so ugly, so disgusting. Dripping with a substance she'd hoped never to lay eyes upon in her life! It was as if everything she'd ever known about the world had suddenly, mercilessly, come crashing down...

The Horrible, hideous mass, pulsating, sagging in all directions, coated with semi-gelatinous, bubbling, Asparagus Green ooze which hardly covered up the smell of Saccharine and Candy Corn, lay on a silver platter on the table. The same platter that Homelanded had remorsefully hidden under the table out of noseshot, knowing that this was inevitable. The words "Welcome, Starlight." had been delicately squeezed on in Buff. The Star Spangled hero looked down at the still horror-struck woman's frozen face with a mixture of sympathy and concession.

"Traditional Ganymedese Heart Fruit and Arthro-Cattle Milk Cheesecake of Welcome. Jack's idea, I'm afraid. It's really hard to say No to him. If it helps..."

..."You're not the first." came a mischievous, Californian voice from behind them. Annie turned, her face finally able to unfreeze. Standing in the now open automatic doorway were two men. One appeared more like a shadow, clad entirely in pure black, kevlar all over his body with no sign of a mouth hole or any facial features whatsoever. The other was more of a person in appearance and, subsequently, more colorful. Brown hair, Translucent blue goggles over a white, open-topped mask that also showed off his nose, mouth and chin, (not to mention the tiny hole punched in the middle of the forehead) blue earpieces, blue gauntlets with white highlights, a blue, athletic, sleeveless singlet with white on the shoulders, and a huge, stylized letter A on the front and back in the same color, a white and blue high-tech belt with an A in the hilt and below the bare legs and knees, Rubber soled Track Boots in the same colors as the rest.

To her right, The Urban Silhouette, The Earth's only Non-lethal Assassin, Black Noir. To her Right, the former protege of Mr. Marathon himself. The man who had trained harder than any speedster in the country to take up his legacy and a former member of the team that she and the Young Americans had argued and bickered with almost every time they'd teamed up, only to become friendly rivals again by the end of each one

A train smirked, arms crossed as he observed the moderately disgusted look on his new teammate's face. This was priceless! Awesomely Princeless!

"Bon Appetite, Sister Act. Don't worry. There's plenty for everyone."

Annie's look of disgust turned to a polite, yet slightly worried smile as she realized just how ''tight-knit'' this team truly was. She wasn't just expected to be a co-worker or a team member, Oh no. She was a member of a family. And as much as Annie would've loved to protest, her chances to do so were hopelessly dashed when, a few seconds later, a certain Ganymedese ET walked in with a tall chef's hat on his hairless head and an expression of expectant hope on his Orange, reptile-like face. The butterflies may've flown, but the stomach ache was just beginning.

[diamondborn]

           ‘    oh  ,  hey el  ,  thanks for comin’  !  I don't know how much valentine briefed ya on  ,  but one of my girls got sick and I need someone to walk in the show for my bridal line  .  the show's in a couple of days  ,  so I know this is sorta last minute  ,  but if I give ya a crash course  ,  can ya'help me out and walk ?  ’

@eternitycyber​    /    starter call.  

[phoenixyfriend]

Came up with a Miss Congeniality AU today, with a bunch of input from @whymylifewrites, who actually did suggest the main ship to be Quintress, which I just lost my mind about, because yes.

(I'll integrate most of her comments into the post naturally, but a few took the form of a Q&A that I left as separately indicated.)

It would be so easy for Dooku to be the Pageant Coach.

Dooku: Of any girl I've ever taught, you are truly unique. If I ever had a daughter, I imagine she would be a lot like you. Ventress: [smiles] Dooku: Which is perhaps why I've never reproduced.

Just imagine him doing a Judgmental Pose when he looks Ventress up and down. He can do a lot but they are going to need quite some foundation to cover the facial tattoos.

"They're cultural! Those are allowed!" "They're identifying marks that would have been a scandal in the state pageant; people will wonder they hadn't heard about them already."

As far as 'why is Ventress in the FBI' goes... I think she was a recruit from like. People they arrested. Like she was such a good criminal that they offered to pay her to stop crimes with them instead, and now she's the only person that can pass for young enough to do this undercover work. Quinlan almost definitely recruited her.

The pageant director needs to be Evil and Woman and Femme so I guess Miraj Scintel. The host isn't in on the crime, so... I would have said Obi-Wan but he's already got a role. Other options are Mace or Bail, so I'm going with Bail.

Ventress goes in expecting airheads and instead gets blindsided by shit like "Oh hey, we just looked up New York's arrest record" and "Massachusetts graduated Summa Cum Laude and is expected to be a Senator less than ten years after she finishes her law degree; also she put off her wedding for this since contestants can't be married.

(Listen. Padme's from Martha's Vineyard. I declare it so.)

Ventress befriends: New York - Bo-Katan - they spar at least once, and it's flirty until Bo mentions her girlfriend back in the city Mass. - Padme - they get into really long arguments about government overreach and law enforcement; put off her wedding for this Nevada - Ahsoka - baby of the event (just barely scraped by as old enough), jokes about biting people. Her pageant coach is her adoptive brother, Obi-Wan; her talent is acrobatics or aerial silks Louisiana - Aayla - baton twirler Texas - Fennec - Ventress's roommate, and also very much emblematic of the movie quote about how "This is Texas, everyone has a gun." Illinois - Bly - first trans contestant, flirty with Aayla

Other contestants: North Dakota - Barriss - her talent is piano Alabama - Steela - violin Montana - Riyo - talent is opera singing

Bo would also be a decent Main if not Ventress. She's the New York Lesbian, I've decided. She is doing it purely for the scholarship money. Satine didn't pressure her but I think she trained Bo and was the one who suggested it as an option for College Things.

I think Ventress deserves to make creepy comments about how to Do Crime that all the other girls look at her like ??? for, except Bo. Bo thinks the comments are Entirely Reasonable And Normal.

Bo adds her own comments and Padme looks on in mild disappointment. Ahsoka asks clarifying questions. She wants to be one of the big kids and Fit In.

Ventress: Nah, that wouldn't work, you need a higher quality wiring if you want to short-circuit that alarm to break in without alerting the cops. Padme: ...I mean I know why I know that. Why do you know that?

Barriss does not at all know or understand what kind of company she's fallen into

Ventress and Bo have extensive criminal records. Padme's fiance is an electrical genius who likes to watch youtube videos about how to Do Crime Things because he fantasizes about being a Leverage character. Ahsoka's ready for anything. Steela's done a lot of Macgyvering nonsense, she gives me A/V club vibes. Aayla's a kickboxing teacher.

Barriss is just. Here.

Ventress is getting a very skewed idea of what beauty pageant contestants are like.

Whymylife said "ok all of this is perfect but anakin fantasizing about being a leverage character when ventress is as close to a real life leverage character one can get is so so funny to me"

Padme decides she has to introduce them. I think Ventress want to noogie him.

Dooku introduces Ventress to Ahsoka because he knows Obi-Wan through the pageant circuit.

whymylife said "i was wondering how like, the anakin and obi-wan and ahsoka situation is. like did anakin move to mass for college or something and meet padme there? was padme's involvement with the pageant what inspired ahsoka to do it?"

Which yes, I'm a-okay with that.

Initially I said that, honestly, the only part too complicated to keep is Aayla and Quinlan, because they could have theoretically just asked if he could get his little sister to wear a wire.

HOWEVER there is room for PLOT

Aayla doesn't have any kind of security clearance, so they still need an actual field agent to send in. Quinlan spends the entire op dodging Aayla and trying not to let her see he's here and supporting her competition.

Aayla wants nothing to do with this FBI nonsense, and so Quin is like "No, my little sis is 100% not an option. We have to stick my rival/crush/work buddy in the heels instead."

Bly and Aayla almost kiss during the girl's night out, but then one of them vomits or faints like Rhode Island in the movie. They share some hot chocolate after the climax when post-bomb cleanup is happening (they're just sitting on the steps, a little torn up, hair in disarray) and Their Shoulders Are Touching.

[herstarburststories]

Home in a Motel Pool

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean and you have some fun in the motel's pool.

A/N: This one took a little longer than I thought, but here it's! Wet Dean in motel pool for us. So canon compliant of me, I know I know. This piece is my submission for @deanwanddamons 's 1st Blogiversary and 2K follower celebration with the prompt in bold. Congrats again, honey! And it's also my part for @anaelsbrunette 's YAS’S POC READER CHALLENGE with the song Home by Depeche Mode. Thanks for the extra time and the marvelous challenge!

Warnings: sex in the pool, p in v, dirty talk

Hunting was brutal. Even when the hunters won, it was a victory with no triumph-- there would be someone dead, always a corpse and loved one weeping as a reminder that you and the Winchesters couldn’t save everyone. You’d come around the town, tell the folks what they wanted to hear to get some information, kill the thing, and luckily save a person or two. It was a page from the emptiest stage, a show for a crowd of three: you, Sam, and Dean. Their own critics and praisers, doctors and patients, sinners and saints.

And if your hands were melted and molded into killing machines, you better pray for your heart to be made of anything but gold. That job didn't leave space or time for tenderness. In order to hunt the prey, you must become ferocious. Attack anything on sight, sing to the loneliest sound that’s the gunshot in the dark, pretend that you’ll make amends only to end up befriending the glorious end of the line that often came too soon.

Thing is, it wasn’t just about that. It would be easier if it was all about perfect soldiers and ultimate killers. A black and white world stained with crimson red would be the ideal, but there were always more colors.

Certainly, it wasn’t the most illustrious job one could get. If anything, it was unfair and underpaid and the seed of violence. Every hunter happened to do things they never could speak about, and all the blood got so normalized to the point red is just the color that pointed you were doing it right. like a good grade or a father’s head pat. Where was the seat on the table for any gentless to sit down in the chaos? In the thankful hugs from the mothers of the rescued children, in the pranks the boys came up with against each other for no other reason but childish nostalgia, in the nights where the three of you stopped and sat on Baby’s hood to watch the stars in silence, in the way Dean’s tough hands touched your cheek so lovingly, in the smell of the Impala’s wheels burning against the streets. Summarizing, when saving people wasn’t reasoning enough, kindness appeared glistening in the middle of the pandemonium, as a paragon of something good in cruelty.

Just like this moment.

‘’My body aches in places I didn’t even know that could hurt.’’ You groaned as you got out of the classic black car, hand on the back of your neck to apply some pressure. Even being thrown against a wall by some demon hurt less than sleeping in the backseat-- sweet mundane problems.

Sam scoffed before adding insult to injury, ‘’At least you were sleeping and didn’t have to hear the same cassette three times.’’

‘’Quit whining, you two. I was the one driving through two states.’’ Dean said in a huff, swirling the keys as the three of you walked towards Bonita Motel’s entrance. He placed an arm around your waist, his own way of showing affection in quietude. Your hand slipped inside his leather jacket’s pocket. ‘’Sides’, Baby’s backseat is comfortable and Zeppelin is awesome.’’

The youngest Winchester refrained his response to an eye roll and a mumble among the lines not when played three times in a row. You, though, turned your head to the side and offered your stubborn boyfriend a cynical smile.

‘’I prefer a bed.’’

He aimed at you with his signature lopsided grin, the one he knew that you loved, while you passed through the main door of the establishment. ‘’That’s not what you said last week.’’

‘’Guys, limits.’’ Sam pleaded, shaking his head at Dean’s comment before turning around. He made a chatter that quickly got old with the woman behind the counter, gaining two keys. The long haired hunter tossed one at his brother, who quickly grabbed it with his free hand.

‘’This is a good motel…’’ You commented as the three walked upstairs, the gleaming blue sight caughting your brown eyes. Your whole body shone as if it was really a beach and not only a cheap motel’s pool. Dean and Sam had never gone to the beach, but you grew up with salt aired weekends, a collection of swimsuits, and a loud family on the sand. You missed the sensation of being held by the ocean so dearly. It wouldn’t be the same, nothing was after you jumped in Dean’s Impala in New York; hustling for some other life, a better one like your parents when they came to the United States. Yet, a pool could be diverting and cozy. Pulling away from your man’s hold, you approached the small chlorine miracle. 

‘’There’s a pool!’’ You pointed out, as excited as a kid in a carnival. ‘’We should take a swim.’’

‘’You guys go. I have some research to do.’’ Sam nodded at the pool with his head, denying the request with a sleight of hand as he opened the lock of the room 209. ‘’Have fun, kids.’’

The green eyed man clicked his tongue when his brother disappeared with the craike of a door. He wasn’t exactly against the idea of jumping in the pool - apart from the germes, but his paranoia wouldn’t mind that much, not after trying endless motel’s bathtubs. The drive here had just been too long. Besides, if that crap motel had a well-cleaned pool, it probably had vibrating beds. He could use a massage. ‘’I think I’ll get crash in bed.’’

You arched an eyebrow. ‘’Didn’t you say that Baby’s backseat was comfortable to sleep?’’

‘’How taller than you I am, sweetheart?’’ He smirked as you walked back to him like you always did, your own north star in shape of a magnetic force of a man,

‘’Shush.’’ You slapped his chest playfully, wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck. ‘’Come on. Most motels we go to barely have a door, much less a pool. I miss going swimming. It’s a sunny day…’’ The childish joy in your tone metamorphosed into a newfound malice. ‘’You’ll get to see me in a bikini.’’

The Winchester wiggled his messy brows at your statement, suddenly reinvigorated as he placed his arms around your waist to bring you closer. Forget the body ache and all that, that was a way better reason to be sore in the bones later. ‘’You made some good points.’’

‘’I always do.’’ You kept the adamant tone, even when you could feel his breath on your cheek, those green eyes so livid when looking at you. God, you had to put a period here before things escalated and you two ended up getting to right in the middle of the hall. You attempt to make a joke: ‘’Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter.’’

He knew it was a prompt from The Little Mermaid-- you two had watched two days ago in Tupelo, in a vintage television after killing a Ghoul, while Sam got some junk food. Yet, the kind of smile that brought to his face held anything but purity. A simple conversation became double-edged with Dean Winchester. You two often ended up breathless, either from fighting or from doing more entertaining dances. You should’ve seen that one coming.

‘’I know another wet spot.’’ He’d say, unholy significance trapped in each word as his right hand started to motion over your skin, guiding his greedy finger under your skirt. Your mouth was set in a grim line, a surprisingly determinate attempt to hold back a moan. You and Dean could do it in the pool, unite the good infant memories with the tent-like emotions of adulthood to make a grand deal.

‘’You’ll get all of me wet.’’ You kissed the corner of his lips, smoothly pulling away with a wink. So much self control. ‘’Hurry up, cowboy.’’

You grabbed your bag and rushed to room 208 to change your clothes, leaving an astonished, mildly turned on Winchester behind. Getting in the bathroom, which didn't stink for once, you swiftly changed into the bikini. A jade green one, directly from Brazil’s brand Cia Maritma. If you squint your eyelids hard enough, you could still put a name to each face that was with you when you wore it for the first time in the calmer days. All the long gone friends and the daily sunbath in your caramel skin.

Decided to leave the past well enough alone, you just smiled in melancholy and turned around, facing your reflex in the mirror. You looked hot. Dean surely would agree about that, especially with the way the top brought up your breast.

Arriving in the room to your boyfriend ready for the swim, you couldn’t help checking him out. You were attracted to the way the righteous man’s body was built since the first glance, addicted since the first touch. His shoulder, the freckles on his nose, and the way he wasn’t all defined, yet had the muscles right in the certain spots. You took off your hairpin, hair falling on your shoulder into a brown sea, like the waves crashing against the ocean rocks. The smell of your sweat and orange monopolizing the edges of everywhere, mainly Dean’s senses. He relished on how soft your skin was compared to his, how your accent tingled his insides, and the way you swing your hips while walking. Your boobs almost jumping at his face because of the tiny bikini only aroused him more.

The place had to get some credit. For a dive motel, it was more than they’d picture. Manageable bathrooms and safe locks, the pool glimmering blue with a small tree by the right side. It was gorgeous.

A dazzling breeze whispered through your bodies, causing you to shiver slightly and Dean to get sweet smelling sheets clinging to his knees and feet. Fucking tree. You could taste the friction swallowing the atmosphere, a report of what was near.

Before you could say anything, Dean grumbled as he pokes a leaf away. ‘’It’s gonna rain.’’

‘’It will.’’ You agreed, holding his hand to pull him closer, well-aware that your body would scare away any linger of adorable grumpiness. ‘’But who cares about raining when you’re in a pool?’’

It's the kind of question that doesn't need an answer, it briefly exists to make Dean distracted in wonder just now, a pause between seconds as you jump in the pool first. The water splashing around with a brutal sound. Your body seems to recall an old memory, how you made a lark of anything with your siblings in the sea,  how you used to feel like the beaches were a peculiar way of God to show the living how his touch would feel like. Every fiber of your body missed this.

Dean went in too, emerging to the marvelous sound of your laugh. He glanced at you, now less of a hunter and more of a man. The drops on your face could easily be confused with tears, yet the way you grinned and threw water at him couldn’t leave space for any other world but happiness. The Winchester often noticed your longing for cultural things that you no longer had in the palm of your hand. It was stupid, he even felt somehow resposible for taking you away of everything you ever knew only to coaxe you through the road not taken— full of bumps and blood and undecked halls. Then you’d smile, you’d wrap your arms around him like you were doing in that exact moment, and he would see that the drops all over your face are flickering with your chortle.

What other choice would Dean have, what other option could he ever make himself pick, if not to place his hands on your hips? So it goes. He put his rough hand on your, each tender touch seeming to make the bruises there clear up.

The hunter was leaning in to kiss you as a wave of water met his face.

‘’Ops!’’

He narrowed his eyes, spilling out the water. ‘’You are gonna pay for this.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try, Kansas boy.’’

Yeah, you once were raised in the water, such an important part of your identity which you didn't wish to lose, yet slowly slipped beyond your reaches. But you had Dean, you had adventure, and you had the motel’s shitty pool. If you could find contentment in that, you should know that who you were wasn’t lost. You were still the five years old who played in the plastic pool, the seventeen girl who grabbed your cellphone’s lantern and went looking for what was making a noise at 3am, the twenty years old who jumped in a car with two hunters and a craving for finding her true home. You were all of them at once. 

Heaven sent the only true friend you could call yours and you’re under his lips. Dean’s crashing his mouth with yours, hungry like an animal after your playful war. You two are soaked, and so is your pussy. He pressed your against the border of the pool, your back to the wall of it. The water rushes in and you couldn’t care less. When did a bikini start to look like too much clothing?

Breaking the kiss, the Winchester glanced at you. The green of all the wild gardens localized in his orbs, dappled with stars and desire. Waiting for his touches, enjoying when he took his time with you was always worthwhile. Today, though, you needed him fast and dirty and raw.

There was nothing you'd rather than spread your legs, so you did it. Dean’s smart fingers quickly ripping your panties and brushing against your heat. He let out an annoyed huff, missing the satisfaction of your wetness around his digitals, how he knew you were a mess for him and him only. The pool’s water didn’t let it much evident, he’d have to fuck you even harder, make sure you were still needy for his cock.

You whined, clinging to his touch with a swing of hips. His hand covering your pussy as Dean applied some pressure, savoring the way your body winced and your eyes shut close, a beautiful moan leaving your lips. He couldn’t wait to eat you out later after he made you come in this stupid pool. Hedonism made his blood thicker-- like he was a calm sea before you, and now his waters were violent and hungry for destruction. 

He pulled his hand away. ‘’Dean…’’

‘’Don’t worry, sweetheart.’’ His throbbing cock entered you, voice even deeper as he spoke. ‘’Gonna give you what you want.’’

You placed your legs around his waist and he held your thighs underwater, the sky spilling out its own water above. It didn’t stop two. Your hand on his shoulders, nails sinking in seemed to be a combustible for Dean to go harder inside of your. His hips attacking yours as his mouth kissed your neck with bites.

‘’Dean, please.’’ You pleaded, warm walls squeezing his long dick. ‘’More.’’

‘’All my cock is for you, honey. You get all of it, fucking you, scratching you open.’’ The eldest Winchester said, his voice so low and sensual. You could come only from his talking. ‘’That’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck that pretty cunt, mark you up inside this shitty pool.’’ His digital reached your clint and you growled. Dean kept his dick inside you, unable to pull away from the heavenly sensation of being inside you. ‘’Wanna know something? I can’t wait to come inside that tight pussy right here.’’

He increased the rhythm, pounding you even faster and rougher as you tried to keep up, the lack of synchrony causing his cock to reach and pull inimaginable pleasures inside you, all turning more brutal and necessary. The pool had its own waves, your and Dean’s movements causing a chaos ocean chaos in it.

The heat and the sickliest, you were drowning in pleasure with each thrust to a desperate beat that his heart echoed. All your pretty noises tangled with his breathless howls. The rain’s drops becoming one water with the pool as you and him became one with your intertwined bodies, only to grow apart again and come back in need for more.

Your and your lover’s figures distorted on the reflex of the pool water, washing away any piece left of purity as you moved in a hurry when you finally reached your orgasm. Your cunt tightening around his hardness was too much to bear, making Dean come after you.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathless faces with closed eyelids darting together. The heat calmed down by the water. Dean dared to look at you, but not to pull away. His cock remained inside your tight cunt and he caressed your cheek gently. That woman pounded from within and is pinning him down to earth, like you are his own gravity, the glimpse of relief, the lover’s photographe that gives the soldier’s battle a meaning.

‘’There’s a saying in my country.’’ You said suddenly, opening your brown eyes as he lifted his head to greet yours with his forest ones.

Dean captured your small nose, your desirable lips, your big eyes, your gorgeous tan skin, the signals he had map of on his lips. His thumb still stroked your face as his cock took its time to weaken inside your pussy. ‘’Yeah? What’s it?’’

‘’Quem está na chuva é pra se molhar.’’ He arched his eyebrows, a silent request for an english version. The Winchester knew around ten words in your mothertongue. Half pet names, half cussing. You pecked his plump lips. ‘’There's no literal translation, some things just lose their core if you try to put them to another language. It would be like if you are in the rain you want to get wet. It would be another way to say if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.’’

‘’I gotta say, you look pretty hot when you say those things.’’ You smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully, fingernails tenderly fondling the back of Dean’s neck under his haircut. ‘’Do you miss it?’’

‘’My country?’’

‘’Yeah. Not just your country but your language, your friends, your life there.’’ He shrugged, secretly scared of the answer. ‘’It’s not like we go to the same places you used to go to. I see how many bikinis you carry around.’’

Which was the main reason he booked that motel. You didn’t need to know that. The childish joy you had with the surprise was enough for his credit.

‘’No. Well, I still speak my language when I’m mad at you.’’ Dean chuckled. Whenever you two got in a heated argument, your inner latina would come out and jump at him in both languages at once. It was supposed to be serious, but mostly got him all hot and bothered. Your accent was just too sexy, especially when you were angry. ‘’But no, not really. I miss situations and people, but not how it was. It was a good life, but it wasn’t the one I was supposed to have.’’ You pulled him to you by his neck. ‘’I thank you, you know? For bringing me here. For showing me home, Even for the tears and the fear. I finally I’ve found where I belong.’’

Tranquility engulfed the atmosphere momentarily as comfortable as a silent sleeper, the rain no longer coming, giving stage to a sunny sky. You and Dean, twisted together like that was all serenity you could relish on. You both quiet in the afterglow, his cock no longer hard but neither wanted to pull away. He laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. He certainly would bring you to a beach as soon as he could, maybe pop the pretty question on his knees there. For now, thought, he could enjoy thar simple moment.

‘’After my house was burned to the ground, I didn’t think I’d have another one. I was always rolling around the country, never really stayed in a place for too long. I didn’t want to call some random walls my home and have it destroyed in my face again.’’ Dean said, his thumbs caressing your thighs underwater. Since his first breath near you, he knew he was a goner. Even better, he knew he wasn’t a goner, a nomad, or a lonely wolf anymore. Dean Winchester once swore he would never come back home after what happened in there, and then you appeared. The hot latina who kept up with his stupidity and didn’t think twice before calling him out on his bullshit, and was always there for him and actually loved him-- not besides the job, but with all the things being a hunter included, all the ugly acts he had to go through. You believed he was good and worthy. His house burned, but you gave him a home. For the first time in so long, Dean felt warm and happy and loved. ‘’But you gave me a home. Without the apple pie life and all that. You, me, and Sammy-- fighting the good fight, just the three of us. This is my home.’’

To be a hunter was to be gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid, always carrying the heaviest cross ever made like a soldier’s duty that wouldn’t end with a couple years of trocious war. This treacherous slope was forevermore. A hunter life, all the fraunds and the paid phone calls and the running away with laughs empty of joy, the song from the wrong side of town. But fuck, all the saving and the excitment and the hustled love made a dance for the melody and suddenly it was worth it. All the tender parts, the new restaurants every week, the jokes in the car, the hidden chortles in the dark places. Sam. Dean. Dean and all this am out of love and loyalty he gave to you.

Everything was worth it to be in his arms.

He brought you back home.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

[weheartchrisevans]

BOSTON — So you're Tim Scott, the Republican senator from South Carolina who opposes Roe v. Wade and wants to repeal the Affordable Care Act, and you get a call from Chris Evans, a Hollywood star and lifelong Democrat who has been blasting President Trump for years. He wants to meet. And film it. And share it on his online platform. Can anybody say "Borat?" “I was very skeptical,” admits Scott. “You can think of the worst-case scenario.”But then Scott heard from other senators. They vouched for Evans, most famous for playing Captain America in a series of films that have grossed more than $1 billion worldwide. The actor also got on the phone with Scott’s staff to make a personal appeal.

It worked. Sometime in 2018, Scott met on camera with Evans in the nation’s capital, and their discussion, which ranged from prison reform to student loans, is one of more than 200 interviews with elected officials published on “A Starting Point,” an online platform the actor helped launch in July. Not long after, Evans appeared on Scott’s Instagram Live. They have plans to do more together.

“While he is a liberal, he was looking to have a real dialogue on important issues,” says Scott. “For me, it’s about wanting to have a conversation with an audience that may not be accustomed to hearing from conservatives and Republicans.”

Evans, actor-director Mark Kassen and entrepreneur Joe Kiani launched “A Starting Point” as a response to what they see as a deeply polarized political climate. They wanted to offer a place for information about issues without a partisan spin. To do that, they knew they needed both parties to participate.

Evans, 39, sat on the patio outside his Boston-area home on a recent afternoon talking about the platform. He wore a black T-shirt and jeans and spent some of the interview chasing around his brown rescue dog. Nearly 100 million people didn’t vote in the 2016 general election, Evans says. That’s more than 40 percent of those who were eligible.He believes the root of this disinterest is the nastiness on both sides of the aisle. Many potential voters simply turn off the news, never mind talking about actual policy.“A Starting Point” is meant to offer a digital home for people to hear from elected officials without having the conversation framed by Tucker Carlson or Rachel Maddow.

“The idea is . . . ‘Listen, you’re in office. I can’t deny the impact you have,’ ” says Evans. “ ‘You can vote on things that affect my life.’ Let this be a landscape of competing ideas, and I’ll sit down with you and I’ll talk with you.”

Or, as Sen. Lisa Murkowski (R-Alaska), who has appeared on the site, puts it, “Sometimes, boring is okay. You’re being presented two sides. Everything doesn’t have to be sensational. Sometimes, it can just be good facts.” Evans wasn’t always active in politics. At Lincoln-Sudbury Regional High School, he focused on theater, not student government. And he moved away from home his senior year, working at a casting agency in New York as he pushed for acting gigs. His uncle, Michael E. Capuano, served as a congressman in Massachusetts for 20 years, but other than volunteering on some of his campaign, Evans wasn’t particularly political.

In recent years, he’s read political philosopher Hannah Arendt and feminist Rebecca Solnit’s “The Mother of All Questions” — ex-girlfriend Jenny Slate gave him the latter — and been increasingly upset by Trump’s policies and behavior. He’s come to believe that he can state his own views without creating a conflict with “A Starting Point.” When he and Scott spoke on Instagram, the president wasn’t mentioned. In contrast, recently Evans and other members of the Avengers cast took part in a virtual fundraiser with Democratic vice-presidential nominee Kamala D. Harris.

“I don’t want to all of a sudden become a blank slate,” says Evans. “But my biggest issue right now is just getting people to vote. If I start saying, ‘vote Biden; f Trump,’ my base will like that. But they were already voting for Biden.”

(In September, Evans accidentally posted an image of presumably his penis online and, after deleting it, tweeted: “Now the I have your attention . . . Vote Nov. 3rd!!!”)

Evans began to contemplate the idea that became “A Starting Point” in 2017. He heard something reported on the news — he can’t remember exactly what — and decided to search out information on the Internet. Instead of finding concrete answers, Evans fell down the rabbit hole of opinions and conflicting claims. He began talking about this with Kassen, a friend since he directed Evans in 2011’s “Puncture.” What if they got the information directly from elected officials and presented it without a spin? Kassen, in turn, introduced Evans to Kiani, who had made his fortune through a medical technology company he founded and, of the three, was the most politically involved.

Kiani has donated to dozens of Democratic candidates across the country and earlier this year contributed $750,000 to Unite the Country, a super PAC meant to support Joe Biden. But he appreciated the idea of focusing on something larger than a single race or party initiative. He, Kassen and Evans would fund “A Starting Point,” which has about 18 people on staff.

“There’s no longer ABC, NBC and CBS,” Kiani says. “There’s Fox News and MSNBC. What that means is that we are no longer being censored. We’re self-censoring ourselves. And people go to their own echo chamber and they don’t get any wiser. If you allow both parties to speak, for the same amount of time, without goading them to go on into hyperbole, when people look at both sides’ point of view of both topics, we think most of the time they’ll come to a reasonable conclusion.”

“What people do too often is they get in their silos and they only watch and listen and read what they agree with,” says John Kasich, the former Ohio governor and onetime Republican presidential candidate. “If you go to Chris’s website, you can’t bury yourself in your silo. You get to see the other point of view.” As much as some like to blame Trump for all the conflicts in Washington, Sen. Christopher A. Coons (D-Del.) says he’s watched the tone shifting for decades. He appreciated sitting down with Evans and making regular submissions to “Daily Points,” a place on the platform for commentary no longer than two minutes. During the Supreme Court confirmation hearings, Coons recorded a comment on Judge Amy Coney Barrett and the Affordable Care Act.“ ‘A Starting Point’ needs to be a sustained resource,” Coons says. “Chris often talks about it being ‘Schoolhouse Rock’ for adults.”

It’s not by chance that Evans has personally conducted all of the 200-plus interviews on “A Starting Point” during trips to D.C. Celebrities often try to mobilize the public, whether it’s Eva Longoria, Tracee Ellis Ross and Julia Louis-Dreyfus hosting the Democratic National Convention or Jon Voight recording video clips to praise Trump. But in this case, Evans is using his status in a different way, to entice even the most hesitant Republican to sit down for an even-toned chat. And he’s willing to pose with anyone, even if it means explaining himself on “The Daily Show” after Republican Sen. Ted Cruz of Texas posted a selfie with Evans. (Two attempts to interview Trump brought no response.) Murkowski remembers when Evans came to Capitol Hill for the first time in 2018. She admits she didn’t actually know who he was — she hadn’t yet seen any Marvel movies. She was in the minority.“We meet interesting and important people but, man, when Captain America was in the Senate, it was all the buzz,” she says. “And people were like, ‘Did you get your picture taken?’ I said, ‘Yeah, I sat down and did the interview.’ ‘You did an interview? How did you get an interview with him?’ ”What impressed Murkowski wasn’t his star power. It was the way Evans conducted the interview.“It was relaxing,” she says. “You didn’t feel like you were in front of a reporter who was just waiting for you to say something you would get caught on later. It was a dialogue . . . and we need more dialogue and less gotcha.”

“Starting Points” offers two-minute answers by elected officials in eight topic areas, including education, the environment and the economy. This is where the interviews Evans conducted can be found. “Daily Points” has featured a steady flow of Republicans and Democrats. A third area, “Counterpoints,” hosts short debates between officials on particular subjects. Eric Swalwell, a Democrat from California, debated mail-in voting with Dusty Johnson, the Republican congressman from South Dakota.

“Most Americans can’t name more than five members of the United States House,” says Johnson. “ ‘A Starting Point’ allows thoughtful members to talk to a broader audience than we would normally have.”

The platform’s social media team pushes out potentially newsworthy clips, whether it’s Sen. Mike Lee (R-Utah) discussing his meeting with Barrett just before he tested positive for the coronavirus, or Angus King, the independent senator from Maine, criticizing Trump for his comments on a potential peaceful transfer of power after November’s election. Kassen notes that the King clip was viewed more than 175,000 times on “A Starting Point’s” Twitter account, compared with the 10,000 who caught in on CNN’s social media platform.

“Because it’s short-form media, we’re engineered to be social,” says Kassen. “As a result, when something catches hold, it’s passed around our audience pretty well.”

The key is to use modern tools to push out content that’s tonally different from what you might find on modern cable news. Or on social media. Which is what Evans hopes leads to more engagement. He’s particularly proud that more than 10,000 people have registered to vote through “A Starting Point” since it went online.

“If the downstream impact or the byproduct of this site is some sort of unity between the parties, great,” says Evans. “But if nobody’s still voting, it doesn’t work. We need people involved.”

[thelovelyghostwriter]

do you think kuraneon is gonna be canon in the official hxh universe and what must have happened?

Whether or not they would be canon is up to Sir Togashi himself. While he does have romantic elements in his previous works like Yu Yu Hakusho and Ten de Showaru Cupid, it's not as explicit in HxH (e.g. Meruem/Komugi).

If you asked me this before knowing about the KuraNeon Marriage Theory (will give a link in the reblog later on) and KuraNeon paired up in mobile games, I would have said "0% chance" because we do not see them interact on-screen (even if I had shipped them since I first laid my eyes on Neon).

However, it is kinda sus that Kurapika became a Nostrade Family Young Boss; with Light and Neon nowhere shown. The more "accepted" theory is that Light is unable to continue and Neon is dead (although I do have rebuttals about Neon being dead - that's another conversation). I do wonder why he had to keep their mafia family name - there is no reason to if he truly let them wither. But from Light's last appearance in a manga panel, Kurapika did reassure him that he'll handle everything and you see the Nostrade mafia family organisation doing well under Kurapika. Which is also why my friend went to bring up that plausible KuraNeon Marriage Theory. 

I know that a lot of people think they don’t interact, but that is on-screen. After York New City arc, we don’t see Kurapika until way later, however him being in charge as the Nostrade Boss indicates that he stayed with the Nostrades. God knows what they did while living under one roof. 

Another thing that is major sus is the mobile games. Even non-shippers are baffled why KuraNeon is a thing. Kurapika and Neon are seen dressed as Hikoboshi and Orihime in two sets of the mobage cards; a romantic couple that is known in a Japanese legend and celebrated on 7 July (Tanabata Festival). They are even shown writing on coloured papers in one of the cards + Kurapika holding a bamboo - these coloured papers are used during the Tanabata festival where wishes are written on them and hung on bamboo. It is believed that the reunion between the two lovers Hikoboshi and Orihime are so joyous that they grant the wishes of the people. As far as I know, the only pairing that gets to have a Orihime/Hikoboshi theme in their cards is Machi/Hisoka; and we do see Hisoka/Machi having a soft spot for one another in canon (in the current arc, Machi does patch him up after his defeat and Hisoka spared her).  

Hmmm.. I should make a post about this whole Tanabata thing actually. Asides from that, they are also the v-day banner in 2019 for the games and she gave him a cake during the valentine’s day event, to which showed a scene of him thinking about what to give her back (and low and behold, Kurapika’s White’s Day card featured him with a gift and him wearing the same outfit of the scene where he thought about what to give her). 

In a separate mobile game, they have a special attack together. Their mobage cards have identical backgrounds and themes. Therefore, it isn’t just one mobile game that does this. It makes me wonder why the official team devs do that when this pairing shipping sub-fandom is really small and many even dislike it. 

Even as a shipper, it also baffles me why devs do that when they have little screentime together (gotta be more objective here). If you do consider the KuraNeon Marriage Theory or consider that they might end up together in the manga, it makes sense why the official hxh game devs pair them together. And I am unsure about the source - but I think for Japanese manga production of non-manga material, you need approval from the writer? All the more to be suspicious of the mobile games that contains KuraNeon above every single pairing out there. 

Hence, if you ask me, there is a chance of Kurapika/Neon being canon. How that might happen is a little tricky and depending on the type of portrayal they will be (I have four interpretations of this ship on my pinned post lol). 

I’m not sure if you only define canon as the vanilla/romantic type, or it also includes one that is a little twisted. I've noticed that hxh has friendship and family dynamics that are already complicated and not as wholesome as one would think. I do believe that if KuraNeon were to be canon, it would be the latter interpretation. 

There are actually a few things that are needed to be considered for it to happen: 1) Neon’s fate - she needs to be alive (or maybe not)  Now, a lot of people believe she died because Chrollo’s book speculates that she does. However, we don’t see her dead body. It’s literally just Chrollo’s interpretation. This is contrasted by Kurapika that states that the previous Scarlet Eye owners did not need to be killed (and the “daughter of a mafia leader” is one of them). If the daughter of a mafia leader is truly Neon, then it brings a question of who should you believe more: Chrollo or Kurapika? (Imo it’s super interesting how these two guys who are enemies have different narratives on the same girl). 

Of course, there was this potential discrepancy I found while re-watching this arc. The Scarlet Eyes that Kurapika bidded for 2.9 billion was a fake. They thought it was stolen when Squala took it with him and died - but it was actually that Kortopi’s Gallery Fake copy disappears after 24hour. So technically, the Eyes is with the Troupe. Now, assuming that Togashi has not forgotten this detail (I believe he still remembers), I do think that it is possible that since Chrollo is the type to get bored of the stuff he steals, he will just sell it and it will be obtained by the later owners. As for “the daughter of a mafia leader”, I’m sure it’s Neon that Kurapika is referring to - be it him mentioning her as merely a previous owner despite the set of Scarlet Eyes being “stolen” or she bought another set. (There is a chance that is not Neon, but another daughter of a random mafia leader, but what are the chances of another daughter being like that?) 

I guess I just wanted to point this detail out because many people readily believed Chrollo’s book (it was not even himself). He stated that he did not know when it disappeared. 

As for that “Hisoka killed Neon” theory, while it is believable and interesting, the only thing that is doubtful for that is that a) Hisoka could not have gone off to kill Neon in such a short period of time, b) that would be an insult to Kurapika’s capabilities if she was under his care, c) the fortune-telling ability doesn’t bother Hisoka. Pakunoda and Hisoka had a short conversation about the fortune and both of them acknowledged that the future changed. Hisoka wrote over his fortune despite having a good one to manipulate the events in hopes of fighting Chrollo - that is an indication of his belief that he writes his own future, and therefore which is why I argue that the fortune-telling ability never bothered him.

As for the “Kurapika killed Neon” theory, I think... they all need to get one thing straight about Kurapika: as much as possible, except for the spiders, he doesn’t kill (or at least dislikes to kill). He stated that none of the owners had to die even if two preferred to die. If there’s a way, he will not shed blood. Besides, Kurapika doesn’t actually hate Neon - contrary to popular belief. There wasn’t a single manga panel that indicates his hatred for her; or even annoyance. It was only the time where Mellody mentioned that he will kill her if she stands in the way, but Kurapika, as much as mentioned before, doesn’t kill if there is an alternative way. 

I have yet to fully explore possible reasons why Neon’s ability disappears from Chrollo’s book if she’s still alive (my friend thinks it’s related to Kurapika’s dolphin ability). However, there are many rebuttals to the theories on how she died. 

But yeah, I think for it to be canon, Neon has to be alive. Unless... they were already canon and he sailed to the Dark Continent and she died slightly before that event (tbh I rather not have this).

2) Kurapika’s fate - he needs to live

Number 2 is a condition is if they aren’t canon yet before he sails to the Dark Continent. 

One thing that confuses people is that they think that just because Kurapika is under the Kakin Employment, it means that he is no longer affiliated with the Nostrades. The Kakin Employment contract is temporary - he is still affiliated with the Nostrades (and their business is bodyguarding, take note). As for him being in the Zodiac, he is still the Nostrade Family Young Boss - being part of the Zodiacs is like some political committee. 

I know there are rumours (I say rumours cause I don’t see the interview script by my own eyes) that Togashi once indicated that the Phantom Troupe and Kurapika will all die. I do think that Togashi can kill one of his main characters, but there’s one thing that makes me question whether he changed his mind: Nitro Rice from the Dark Continent. 

The Nitro Rice is a thing in the Dark Continent that prolongs one’s life - a direct solution to Kurapika’s Emperor Time problem. I think if he does last until they reach the Dark Continent, he has a chance to prolong his lifespan that he has lost while using Emperor Time. 

Now, if he indeed gets to survive, manages to complete his mission, there’s another problem he will face: a will to live. Because currently, all he has ever lived for is bringing justice to his clan. Beyond that, what can he live for? Which kind of makes the ending for him to happily live with someone (be it his friends or having a family) a suitable one. 

3) Neon’s development

Neon is seriously misunderstood among the fandom - even her personality. I’ve seen a lot of Kurapika x (other character) ships where Neon is the 3rd party in fanfics; and it is a one-sided love. 

However, Neon is actually an emotionally detached person while Kurapika is the one that gets attached to people, even if he initially avoids them. Neon has what psychologists will call “Avoidant-Dismissive Attachment Style” while Kurapika has “Avoidant-Fearful Attachment Style”. This is rightfully so due to their different backgrounds. I actually believe that between the two of them, Kurapika will be the one who falls first or if this is one-sided, Kurapika is the one that likes her because of their attachment styles. 

Neon has zero friends, is materialistic and lacks sympathy for dead people (the complete opposite of Kurapika). She believes in focusing on the present and the living (it’s actually a pretty good principle to live for). She needs to learn how to be more attached to people and learn compassion - which she actually is seen as being capable of. She was surprised that Eliza broke down and cried, and even forgo bidding physically. I think this is an indication of her starting to feel sympathy for people and perhaps being more mature - cemented by the fact that she lost her powers.

Therefore, I do think she needs to learn how to warm her heart up to people (which she might have already started to after the York New incident) if she were to feel something for Kurapika. 

4) Kurapika’s view of her

Okay, this is one factor that is either you take it the vanilla way or the kinky way lmao. I actually wrote a Cognitive Dissonance Theory for Kurapika on my Tumblr post for this one (will try to link it in the reblog). 

Kurapika’s initial belief is that flesh collectors are scums who should be arrested, yet he is surprised to see that his flesh-collecting employer is a girl of his age. I think there is already dissonance in his mind there once he met her. 

Contrary to popular belief, Kurapika doesn’t hate Neon (there’s no single manga panel that ever once showed he detest her or feel annoyed with her; as compared to other employees of hers). In fact, he does quickly understand that Neon is being exploited by her father - to which he corrects Basho about the situation. In the manga, when he woke up after the fever, he says her name (in the 2011 anime, it was “Boss” but in the manga, it’s “Neon”) and immediately asks about her; which indicates that he is concerned for her. Of course, she is his employer but in that situation where he is bedridden and not working, him asking about her won’t be just due to him working as a bodyguard. 

However, this doesn’t show that he has feelings for her. It only proves that a) he doesn’t hate her, b) he does care about her. He needs to see Neon as more than just a flesh collector for him to like her; on top of spending time with one another. He needs to see (if he hasn’t already) that she is a girl his age that has a different predicament than him. 

This is the vanilla way I guess. 

The darker and more saucy interesting interpretation would be him thinking it’s okay to objectify her just as much as she objectifies his clan’s eyes (that’s another post I gotta do for another day - but hey, this interpretation is paralleled to Tserreidnich/Theta). 

5) Spending Time with one another

I think as mentioned, it is already a given that Kurapika and Neon had spent time together under one roof off-screen while we see Gon and Killua on-screen during the 3 arcs. However, I think Neon cannot suddenly become less detached and Kurapika cannot want something more than his mission at the moment; so I do think that even if they had spent time before Dark Continent Exploration arc, Neon and Kurapika needs to spend time together after he comes back (that’s if they haven’t banged before he sailed to the Dark Continent like they did in my fic lmao). 

So yeah, I think these are generally the five things that I think should happen if they were to be canon. 

I don’t know why I was compelled to do a long-ass post of this, but I hope this answers your question. I can go on and write a report about this but Imma stop here for now. 

[hanwgst320]

Blog Post 5 Week 6 9/30

1. How is identity tourism harmful in the gaming community?

Lisa Nakamura mentions that one of the types of online racism is identity tourism, more specifically with gaming avatars. Identity tourism is can be very harmful in the gaming community for several reasons. One of the main reasons that it can be harmful is because people can make their characters appear as a race other than their own and use this avatar to say racial slurs or contribute racist stereotypes. For example, a white person making a black avatar and using this avatar to say the n-word or a person making an avatar that is a different race than their own in order to portray that race in a bad way. This is an ongoing problem because people will be faced with identity tourism and think negatively about the race being negatively portrayed.

2. How is racism portrayed differently on different social media platforms?

With every social media platform serving a different purpose and having different features, racism can also be portrayed differently on each platform. Every app has a set of guidelines that need to be met but people have found ways to sneak around these guidelines to make racist post. A good example of this would be TikTok influencers sneaking racist "jokes" into their videos and TikTok allowing it because it technically doesn't go against any of their guidelines. Other apps such as Twitter will allow racist post and not take it down until enough people have reported it and often times that isn't even enough for the post to be removed. These platforms need to create new guidelines and have a faster easier reporting system in order to help combat the racism that is constantly brought to these sites.

3. How does the gaming community reinforce racism and sexism?

It is not uncommon to see racist and sexist comments made in the gaming industry. With game chat being enabled on most gaming systems and games this opens doors for racism and sexism with seemingly no consequences. Even game developers seem to turn a. blind eye to these comments, in the Ow reading it quotes a game developer for Shadow Warrior stating "If this game offends you or anyone, go play another game. We won't mind" (Ow, 2003). This has been a consistent problem in the gaming community for quite sometimes and as someone who games from time to time I have experienced hearing racist comments from time to time and being a female I experience sexism in the gaming community first hand. There has to be change in the gaming community but it has to start at the root with the gaming developers.

4. How can gaming and social media have negative affects on younger generations?

Gaming and social media can have drastic affects on younger generations, especially with the ages of gamers getting younger and younger. Since there are not many regulations for the terrible racist, sexist, and homophobic comments made on social media and in the gaming community, these children who are easily influenced by others will start to believe that this behavior is okay. This could have many negative affects on children and it is very important to know what these children are being surrounded by.

Kolko, B., Nakamura, L., & Rodman, G. (2000). Race in Cyberspace. Taylor & Francis Group.

Ow, J. A. (2003). The revenge of the yellowfaced cyborg terminator: The rape of digital geishas and the colonization of cyber-coolies in 3D realms’ Shadow Warrior. In Asian America.Net: Ethnicity, Nationalism, and Cyberspace (pp. 249–266). https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203957349

Fickle, T. (2019). The race card : from gaming technologies to model minorities . New York University Press.

TEDxUIllinois - Dr. LISA nakamura - 5 types of … - YouTube. (n.d.). Retrieved September 30, 2021, fromhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DT-G0FlOo7g.

[itwill-comeback]

Elysian history that's not boring: The Dionysian Cult v Athens

▪︎The Dionysian Cult was a collective attempt to create a state outside of Elysia's Councils, the leader of the cult, a woman answering only to the name Silver, wanted a space separate from the rest of Elysia, having had visions that such a space could exist outside the reach of the Pravus for both vampires & humans. Silver wanted this space to encompass the Alps, which made her the Athens Council's problem [& the Parisian Council's problem too, but they were taking a hands off approach, on the basis that it could be useful to demonstrate that such a state will naturally collapse rather than waste resources uprooting the group.] but despite the Athenians best attempts to demonize the cult for its practices of rituals & drunkenness, it had popularity amongst criminals & spiritualists alike & once they'd established control of the mountains they refused to leave or acknowledge the laws of Elysia.

▪︎The main law they were ignoring was that humans couldn't know the secret of vampirekind's existence, instead they were taking every human in the area as drudges or as game specifically for hunting. Naturally, this created the problem of having to stop humans from spreading hysteria throughout Europe, which took up much of the Athens Council's effort, leaving them with little energy to go after the cult itself.

▪︎The cult had no concerns over being discovered by humans, they're numbers were large enough to maintain authority over the human populace throughout the Alps, using mind control & drudges to keep the majority of the population contained. The cult had a collective belief that humans are domesticated creatures & thusly as long as their simple needs were met they would remain docile, leaving the vampires to live free from the law, from hunger, & from the eventual rise of the Pravus.

▪︎The Athens Council had taken to arresting vampires anywhere near the area, holding them indefinitely until they could resolve the problem, which only prompted more Elysians to side with the cult, making their space outside of the law even more appealing to the broader public. Maybe Elysia would benefit from having a law free state.

▪︎"We're all going to live in the mountains & ignore the law" gaining popularity as a concept didn't impress the Elder Council at all, & as soon as the Athens Council requested their intervention they were having meetings on how to handle the cult.

▪︎Once the Elder Council started getting involved, the cult responded with brutal attacks on Athens. Several fledglings to important bloodlines went missing with only warnings directed at the Athens Council, promoting sires throughout the city to hide their fledglings & place responsibility on the Council to protect the city. This spread the Council impossibly thin, making the problem the Elder Council's to solve.

▪︎The Athens Council President Linus Argo lost two of his fledglings to the cult, with instructions to end the pursuit & acknowledge the cult as sovereign if he wanted them back. He was unable to do either as the entire thing was in Em's hands at that point, but shortly following this Silver was apprehended. The cult was without their leader & Athens was without its youths.

▪︎Silver was believed to be ambitious & a drunk, but upon interrogation from the Elders it was discerned that she was also mad, as from their own admittance, "No one who has ever stood before the Elder Council has had the audacity to laugh themselves to tears when asked their motive." But despite being marked as a madwoman, Silver was sought after by the rest of the cult & was willing to comply with most of the questioning from the Elders. She confirmed the cult's involvement in the series of fledgling abductions, maintaining that they were all alive & unharmed, but refused to say anything betraying their location.

▪︎Silver insisted that she had visions pertaining to several powerful bloodlines in Elysia, telling Em that she'd "better side with one brother or the other" before it'd even been made public knowledge that Ignatius had sired any fledglings, marked D'Ablo's bloodline as "surprisingly useful to the welfare of Elysia" decades before Xavier became the leader of Marseille, told Vikas not to "grab at rotten ropes" & would only tell Linus that he & Athens were fucked, "Not tonight, not this century, but you are brilliantly fucked" effectively disparaging many powerful bloodlines throughout Europe.

▪︎Em made it clear that she had no interest in going back & forth over a hostage situation, but that she didn't have much choice in the matter, parsing out the demands of the Elder Council & allowing a cult member into their meeting hall in Antwerp to work out the specifics of their deal.

▪︎Naturally the Elders were focused on protecting Athens & maintaining order first & foremost so arresting the cult was on the back burner. This is the time in which Tomas & Otis get thrown into the mix along with Enrico & Dorian.

▪︎This entire time the Athens Council was continuing to overuse their authority in an attempt to stop more Elysians from joining the cult in cities near the Alps, arresting "suspicious persons" indefinitely & intimidating sires into imposing curfews on their fledglings alongside spreading further misinformation about the abductions. The patriarch of the Ciotti bloodline [who I can't think of a good name for] was considered a leader of the community in Florence & was urged by other citizens in the city to reach out to the Elders as this was breaching the rights of Elysia. Enrico is tasked with going to meet the Elders with these accusations, but insists on taking Dorian with him as it isn't safe for young vampires to be alone near the Alps at this time.

▪︎The two Ciottis run into Tomas & Otis [immediately finding Tomas arrogant & offputting, to no one's surprise] before meeting with Em to report the problems the Athenians are causing. This comes only a few nights after the exchange of Athenian hostages for Silver.

▪︎Rather than put the Athens Council on trial in the midst of this crisis, or pursue the cult into the mountains, Em opts to use the Council as bait, on the chance that the cult attacks Athens directly the majority of their forces would be arrested all at once. This plan works & once the cult's numbers were diminished Em had no problem sending in forces to apprehend the rest.

▪︎During the second bout of questioning, Silver makes a deal to avoid execution in exchange for the full extent of her plan. She quite plainly tells Em that the birth of the Pravus is "as unavoidable as the dawn" & that nothing she did would change the prophecy's trajectory. Her motive was only to create a space beyond the law where vampires could live freely, without fearing the Councils or the night that the Pravus takes power over the whole of Elysia.

▪︎This actually prompted the creation of the law free city of New York, as well as the autonomous cities, which were a more practical way to do what the cult couldn't. While New York is the creation of the Elder Council, the autonomous cities are a unionized group which exist outside of the law but do maintain the secrecy of Elysia.

[whysthatsofuckingfunnydickwad]

Slow Hands

Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Here’s 5.2K words of basically pure smut. Blame Sara for this because she peer pressured me. 

“Don’t forget, Rich, we’re going to Ben’s poetry slam tomorrow night,” Eddie said into the phone that was pressed between his shoulder and ear as he typed away on his laptop. He had a report that was due before the end of the weekend that he somehow needed to cram into his ever-tightening schedule, and unfortunately for his school work, Eddie’s attention span always seemed to be taken up by the extravagant Richie Tozier.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about my commitment to my dear Benjamin, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie said on the other end of the line while scribbling Eddie’s last minute reminder onto the calendar-templated dry erase board Mike had bought for him after the time Richie missed two exams in a row due to mixed up dates. “Do you remember what the dress code was? Stan might kill me if I show up underdressed to anything ever again.”

Eddie laughed softly to himself at the memory of Stan nearly bending a salad fork in his fist when Richie had showed up dressed casually for the annual Exotic Bird Protection fundraising banquet. Stan’s bird watching group had donated 100 dollars per chair for whomever Stan decided to bring with him as representation for the members in the New York area. Apparently the location, The London Club, had confused Richard, who showed up in skinny jeans and a flashy jean jacket to a black tie event.

“Yeah,” Eddie said with his words so laced with his smile that Richie could picture it perfectly in his mind if he closed his eyes, “Ben said that it’s casual dress, you should be fine.”

Their conversation continued and Eddie eventually abandoned his laptop, shutting it down and moving to lie on his bed. Talking to Richie came as easy as breathing; the pair had grown impossibly closer since their big move despite how large the city was. Eddie’s grown to realize that it’s easy to develop a feeling of being impossibly small somewhere as large as New York City. Nobody knows him and everybody is travelling in a different direction than he was; it’s breathtakingly new for a small town kid.

Eddie, who happened to be mid sentence, yawned and looked at the clock on his bedside table while finishing his thought, his eyes widened at the late time, he opted to ignore the number of hours he’d just spent on the phone with someone he’d seen all day and would see again for most of the day tomorrow.

“Ouch,” Richie laughed at Eddie’s impossibly adorable yawn, “Getting tired of me, Eds?”

“I got tired of you years ago, Richard,” Eddie said and giggled when Richie audibly gasped in mock offense. “Listen, man, I still have to shower before I go to bed, you know I hate leaving the apartment with wet hair.”

“You’re gonna take a shower? Are you kidding, without me? Eds, I’m wounded,” Richie said into the phone, expecting a humorous groan and brief goodnight, but that’s not what he got.

Instead, Eddie laughed heartily and said, “Okay then, why don’t you come and join me?”

Eddie held his breath, surprised at the sudden boldness that has taken hold of him, and just as he’s about to abandon his previous statement and blame the late hour, Richie, having swallowed thickly before even comprehending what Eddie had said, replied with a small laugh, “Only if I get to lather your girly soap on you.” 

Eddie tried to come up with an excuse to leave the conversation before he could embarrass himself but before he could mutter anything, Richie, whose voice seemed to drop at least half an octave and had become filled with air, interrupted.  “Tell me more, Eds.”

“I’d let you do more than just that, Rich,” Eddie said through the shaking release of his held breath. A shiver went up the lower half of his back and shot through his shoulders at the thought of Richie’s hands sliding through his hair, rubbing in the peppermint scented suds and massaging his scalp. He vividly imagined Richie gripping a fistful of his brunette locks and pulling his soapy hair back into the steaming stream of water to wash the foam down his bow arched back and Richie’s pale arm as the taller man sucked marks into the expanse his neck. Eddie could feel the turnings of lust growing hot in his stomach.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Eddie,” Richie whispered into the phone and Eddie nervously rubbed his hand against the terry cloth fabric covering the tops of his thighs, imagining Richie’s constantly confident touch as he spoke. Eddie was beginning to forget how to breathe.

“I want you to touch me,” Eddie whispered, unsure of what to say as his hand rose to rub against the firmness in his soft shorts, fingertips moving to dance along the hem. “Can you make me feel good and clean, Richie?”

Eddie bit his lips together and physically smacked his palm to his forehead at the words that had tumbled from his mouth. Dumb. Beverly would be disappointed in the awkwardness he was allowing to spill out of him like word vomit.

This time it was Richie releasing a shaking breath as his free hand moved slowly from gripping his freshly washed sheets to toying with the silver button on his jeans, taking his time with the fastenings that were pressed against his growing erection. “Oh, Eds,” Richie says lowly into the phone, “I can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before, but the things I want to do to you are far from clean.”

Flashes of Richie lying on his bed with his pants low on his hips, face flushed, eyes heavy with lust, and his hand rubbing against the crotch of his jeans shoot through Eddie’s head and he finally allows his slender fingers to dip into his shorts and briefs, coming into contact with the hot, velvety skin of his shaft. “Oh, g-god, Richie,” Eddie moans high pitched and needy as his fingers start to squeeze in waves around him, “I want you bad, Rich. I want- I w-want-.”

“You want me to make you feel good, baby?” Richie interrupts as he finally drags his fly down and pushes the denim pants down his lean thighs. “You want me to touch you all over, Eds, every last inch of your gorgeous skin?” Richie’s voice dropped to a low, almost unsure whisper, “Are you touching yourself, Eddie?”

The sudden breaching thought that Eddie is gasping as he touches himself while his best friend is on the other end of the phone threatens to bring him crashing to earth with fear. The thought terrifies him for the briefest of moments, until he hears Richie moaning softly on the other end of the line. More images spark in Eddie’s mind of Richie gripping his length in his pale hand, the dark hair travelling from the base of his prominent cock to his navel where his shirt has risen to expose his stomach. Heat pools heavily in Eddie’s stomach at the thought of Richie getting off to him just a couple of blocks over and he felt his abdomen contract as he neared completion. Throwing caution and fear to the curb and abandoning the taunting thoughts that could possibly bring him down from his high, Eddie moans into the phone, “Please, Richie.”

Richie’s skin had grown hot and red as he started to perspire with anticipation, he sucks in a breath and grips his hard on tightly, “Eds” he says, breath hitching, voice weak with lust and anxiety from his pressing question, “Can I come over?”

Eddie moves his hand from his length to grasp the soft sheets at his side with white knuckles as shivers violently racked his body at the loss of touch so close to climaxing. Eddie’s cock twitched against his belly as he sucked in a couple of deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down enough to answer Richie’s question.  He could practically hear Richie’s anxiety in the silence over the line.

With a stuttering exhale, Eddie whispered, “Yes.”

In high school, Eddie had been on the track team, ditching his inhaler once and for all, and worked his way up to setting the state of Maine’s high school records for the 200 meter straight dash and the two mile run. It took Eddie nine and a half minutes to run two miles. Now Richie, who had never joined any sports in high school, sprinted down two and a half miles of the ever awake streets of New York City and set a buzzing new record for the time it took for Richie to get to Eddie’s studio apartment. Richie was knocking on Eddie’s door twelve minutes after having hung up the phone in his apartment.

Eddie jumped when he heard the knocking; his fingers had been twisting together with anxiety as he waited for Richie to arrive and now that Richie was there, just on the other side of the door, they had stopped fidgeting and began slightly trembling. Eddie looked at himself in the large mirror he had hanging on the wall, he already looked fucked up; his hair sticking up in different directions, cheeks flushed, chest heaving under the soft white V-neck he wore, and his still erect cock straining against the fabric of his red shorts.

When he opened his apartment door, Richie looked just as wrecked as Eddie had imagined, and for a moment Eddie allowed his eyes to trail over Richie in his crumpled state against the doorframe, the taller man still panting from his run. When their eyes met, Richie swallowed thickly at the lust pooled in Eddie’s doe eyes and parted his thin lips, “I almost got hit by a taxi. I mean, I guess I kind of did, I was on the hood for a second. I think the guy started yelling at me but I didn’t stop.”

Eddie laughed and let the smile continue to tug at the corners of his mouth as he bit his lip and looked up shyly through his lashes, “Only you would get hit by a taxi and still run.”

“I think I was running towards something pretty important,” Richie whispered as he finally moved into Eddie’s personal space, letting the door softly swing shut behind them. Almost methodically, Eddie’s hands moved to hold the back of Richie’s neck and tangle in his dark curls as he picked Eddie up. Eddie allowed his strong, tanned thighs to wrap around Richie’s narrow hips before Richie set him down on the closest surface, which happened to be the counter that separates the kitchen and the rest of Eddie’s living space, crowding him almost instantly. “Eds,” Richie said upon an exhale.

Their foreheads rested together as Richie moved to stand between Eddie’s thighs, hands sliding up soft flesh before meeting the terrycloth of Eddie’s shorts and watching his fingertips disappear underneath the cuffs. Eddie, heart pounding violently within his chest, moved in until his nose bumped lightly against Richie’s freckled cheek and hesitated before slotting his lips against the slight roughness of Richie’s chapped ones.

Richie, whose heart was pounding in his ears and whose cock was straining furiously against his zipper, almost crumpled under the intensity of the chaste kiss and tried steadying his shaking hands by roughly groping Eddie’s upper thigh, hands almost lost entirely underneath the fabric of his shorts. Eddie gasped slightly into Richie’s mouth at the rough nature of his hands, which allowed Richie to smoothly slide their tongues together.

With soft fabric bunched against his slim wrists, Richie’s hands moved around to take handfuls of Eddie’s ass and pulled the smaller boy closer to him. Richie pulled back to whisper into Eddie’s ear, “I need you to tell me if it gets to be too much, Eds.”

Eddie nodded and Richie reattached his lips to the addicting flavour of strawberry Chapstick and Eddie Kaspbrak. Pulling Eddie’s hips forward again to meet his own, Richie groaned deeply into Eddie’s eager mouth as the tanned brunette pushed at Richie’s jacket, the denim bunching at his elbows before getting stuck. Eddie’s pelvis meeting his own sent electricity up Richie’s spine, causing the hairs on his body to stand tall and gooseflesh to rise from his pale skin. Pulling away from the kiss took all the physical self control Richie had over his body and then some, feeling cold as soon as his hands left Eddie’s body.

The view, to say the least, was worth it. Eddie’s hands were braced against the hard counter, shoulders slightly hunched, rising and falling with his panting breaths, his thighs were parted with his hard on trapped and prominent within his shorts, legs dangling off the edge of the counter. His mouth was red and swollen, lips glossed with Richie’s saliva, eyes glazed over with longing, and a blush stained his cheeks and chest. Richie had never seen anything quite as perfect.

“Holy fucking fuck,” Richie muttered before he tore his jacket off the rest of the way and he stripped his T-shirt from his body, causing the blush already on Eddie’s face and chest to deepen from pink to crimson. Following Richie’s lead, Eddie shyly lifted his V-neck over his head and threw it to the floor. Before he could push his overgrown bangs from his face Richie was pulling Eddie’s slight body off of the counter and carrying him towards the queen sized mattress that Eddie had resting on a box spring just below the bay window across the room.

“Richie,” Eddie moaned while tightening his legs around Richie’s slim waist and burying his face in his neck while one of his hands carded through Richie’s hair. It took Richie no less than three steps to trip over his previously discarded jacket, toppling forward and half landing on top of Eddie.

“Fuck, Eds,” Richie said, scrambling to get off of the shorter man and check for injuries, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mea-”

Before Richie could ramble on Eddie pushed the trashmouth off of him, the lanky man landing on his back what felt like seconds before Eddie was climbing on top of him, knees spread on either side of Richie’s hips. Planting his hands on Richie’s chest, one over his ribs, and the other against his breastbone just above the other man’s racing heart; Eddie ground his hips down, plush rear meeting Richie’s desperate and clothed cock. “Bev taught me some wrestling tricks, and yeah,” Eddie stated without stopping his merciless grinding against a moaning Richie, whose hands had settled on Eddie taut thighs, “I will use them against you.”

Richie couldn’t help the whole hearted laughed that punched its way out of his chest, eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed, “Be careful Eds, mental imagery of you and Bev rolling around together on the ground might just make me cream my jeans.”

Eddie scoffed and, almost thoughtlessly, reached forward and harshly twisted one of Richie’s pink nipples between his thumb and index finger. Richie screeched at the pleasure-pain that coursed through his body through the small peak and bucked his hips up against Eddie sharply, body arching off the ground at a backbreaking angle. Eddie pressed his bottom against Richie’s crotch to hold him down as he continued his slow torture. Experimentally, Eddie moved until both of his hands were placed over Richie’s pectorals, thumbs rubbing tortuously slow at the aroused buds, one slightly bruising from Eddie’s previous attack.

Richie, who was now moaning with abandon, felt the growing sensation of peaking building inside of him, beginning to squirm underneath Eddie and growing desperate for more. “Oh, god,” Richie moaned, his voice laced with need as Eddie’s small thumbs continued their stroking movements, “Eddie, I’m all for nipple play and cumming untouched, but I don’t wanna jizz my pants. Not tonight.”

The pleading tone in Richie’s voice left Eddie with a satisfied feeling deep in his gut, one he would have to address at a later date because as soon as Eddie let up, Richie all but picked him up and threw him onto the pillow top mattress. The bounce that came after his initial impact with the bed left Eddie in a fit of giggles that hadn’t died down by the time Richie had crawled on top of him and when he was finally able to calm himself, he looked up to see Richie staring at him with complete adoration. 

“Tell me I’m not dreaming, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie whispered and his large hand settled on Eddies rouge cheek, thumb stroking the soft flesh there. Before Eddie could speak, as it seems to often be, Richie whispered again, a smirk taking over his face, “Nah, I couldn’t be. Dream Eddie is never this pretty.”

Eddie didn’t have the words, instead reaching down towards the waist of Richie’s jeans, nimble fingers toying with the button until it popped open, exposing the fly of the jeans and the ever-thickening trail of hair that lead from Richie’s navel to his cock. With one hand Eddie, torturously slow, dragged the zipper of Richie’s jeans down, almost leaving the man over him exposed, with the other he pulled Richie in by the back of his neck for another chaste kiss. 

“Please, Richie,” Eddie whispered as Richie kissed from his mouth and down his sharp jaw, hands pushing languidly at the denim at Richie’s hips, “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Richie nodded against Eddie’s skin, mouth leaving small red marks in its wake as he travelled down Eddie’s exposed chest and worshipped the familiar skin he’d never had the liberty of touching. Eddie arched towards Richie’s mouth and whispered small pleads into the air as Richie’s mouth reached the hem of his shorts, teeth biting at the material. “Let me see you, Eds,” Richie moaned and Eddie nodded, pleads increasing in volume.

“Richie,” Eddie thoughtlessly continued to nod, eyes shut and hands pulling at the soft fabric of his pale bed sheets. “Please touch me.”

Richie’s hands gripped the red fabric and started slowly tugging the shorts down Eddie’s sculpted, hairless legs, kissing the newly revealed skin of Eddie’s hip. Once Eddie’s cock was free, resting upwards against his stomach, Richie pulled Eddie’s shorts the rest of the way off and discarded them without concern of their landing point. Without a moment’s hesitation, Richie took Eddie’s length in his hand and placed his mouth along the side, kissing the tender flesh. “Eds?” Richie started, receiving a broken moan from the man above him, “I wanna suck your cock.”

“Fuck,” Eddie yelled when Richie’s tongue flattened itself against Eddie’s member and dragged itself to the tip where pre-cum was pearling and dripping in rivers. The salty taste of Eddie left Richie desperate, mouth encasing the head and swallowing the shaft down his throat. Eddie impulsively bucked up, hand flying into Richie’s curls and his brows knitting together as he lifted his head to watch Richie’s mouth experimentally engulf his cock.

Continuing to gently buck into Richie’s mouth, Eddie felt his stomach heating up at the feeling of Richie’s slightly crooked teeth scraping against the delicate skin of his cock. Blindly, Richie reached towards the night stand placed beside Eddie’s bed, wrapped his fingers around the knob of the small drawer, pulling it open and grabbing the bottle of lube that resided there. The hand that had been wrapped around the hairless base of Eddie’s cock moved to pour lubricant along the long fingers of Richie’s other hand, once satisfied Richie tossed it to the side and listened the bottle clatter to the floor. “Christ, Richie,” Eddie said as his bucking started to grow reckless and choppy, pleasure coursing through his shaking body.

Eddie roughly pulled Richie’s head away from his crotch by his curls just as his fingers started exploring Eddie’s puckered and desperate entrance. The overwhelming sensation of Richie’s perfectly filthy mouth and the breaching feeling of being stretched open left Eddie with a tight knot of pleasure in his stomach that was all too close to coming undone. Richie immediately tensed and froze every part of his body that touched Eddie and started to shake with fear that he had done something wrong. Eddie felt Richie’s rigid body before he saw the worry in his magnified eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Richie asked, lips swollen and coated with spit.

Eddie nodded and Richie visibly relaxed but didn’t continue his exploration of the naked man’s sensitive hole and Eddie felt the tension in his stomach from his impending orgasm leave him, sheepishly Eddie whispered, “I was going to cum.”

The blush that covered Eddie’s body darkened and Richie, keeping intense eye contact with Eddie, allowed his sheathed finger, already two knuckles deep, to curl and twist within the warmth that was Eddie.

“That's kind of the point, Spaghetti,” Richie smirked before lowering his head to pepper kisses and hickies over Eddie’s tanlined thighs, fingers slowly working their way in and out of Eddie’s tight body.

Eddie moaned and clutched the bed sheet, pulling the taut fabric from the corners of the mattress. As Richie added fingers to his relentless attack on Eddie’s entrance, Richie felt his heart begin to speed up in anticipation.

It's taken them upwards of a decade to get to this point. Years of pining had lead to the moment in time where Richie Tozier would brutally fuck Eddie open with his astonishingly long fingers. Richie occupied his mouth by continuing to suck at the head of Eddie’s abused cock, drool cascading down his shaft and causing Eddie’s skin to erupt with goosebumps. “Richie,” Eddie gasped, white knuckling his sheets, “Fuck, Richie, just fuck me. Please. Oh god.”

Richie pulled away from Eddie until their bodies no longer touched. The smaller man, who laid before his best friend naked and shameless, arched his back off the bed while trying to follow Richie’s warmth. Staring down at Eddie, Richie began pushing the denim jeans off of his hips, slowly exposing the brightly patterned briefs underneath, and Eddie, who was sweaty and panting, began to shake with the desperation and anticipation he felt fluttering in his stomach. 

Once Richie had kicked off his shoes, socks, and jeans, he climbed over Eddie with a grace he hadn’t ever seen Richie possess. His glasses had started to slide down the bridge of his narrow nose and, unconsciously, Eddie reached up to pull them off of the man above him but before he could Richie grabbed his wrist. “I wanna be able to see you, Eds,” he whispered, hot breath fanning over Eddie’s features, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Eddie felt a lump forming in his throat and pulled Richie down to press their lips together, stopping any unwanted whimpers in his throat from escaping. The kiss grew and swelled until the pair were frantically feeling each other, as if scared the other would disappear. Eddie’s hands roamed the uncharted plains of Richie’s back, running over the horizontal stretch marks that formed from his junior year growth spurt that brought him from 5’6 to over 6 foot. His nimble fingers danced up the knobs of Richie’s spine and came down over his shoulder blades while dragging his nails against his pale skin. Richie trembled as Eddie’s fingers dipped under the elastic band of Richie’s briefs, digging into the soft flesh of his ass.

 Richie shot up, Eddie’s hands still on his hips, and slid his underwear down, shucking them off of his ankles with a slight kick. Eddie’s thumbs rubbed over the protruding bone of Richie’s hip and flicked his eyes down to Richie’s erection briefly before looking back up and into the towering man's eyes. Richie leaned forward again, placing his weight down on his bony elbows and pressing his nose against Eddie’s, the smaller mans hands moving to hold Richie’s biceps. Richie’s lips softly pressed against Eddie’s again before he pulled away. 

Eddie’s legs were spread wide as Richie adjusted above him, knees bending to cage Richie’s hips while he leaned up on his elbows to chase Richie’s mouth. “Eds,” Richie said as he brought his hips down to meet Eddie’s, their erections pressed together hotly against Eddie’s pelvis. “Eds, I don’t have a-“

“I don’t care. I want you inside me,” Eddie whimpered as Richie continued to grind their cocks together. “I’m clean.”

“Eds, are you sure?”

Eddie nodded frantically, bringing one hand up to Richie’s curls and pulling him forward. Their foreheads pressed together and Eddie swallowed thickly, “I’ve never wanted anyone but you, Rich. I need you.” 

Richie’s brows furrowed and brought his hand down to his manhood, wrapping his long fingers around the base and bringing his length to press down between the soft flesh of Eddie’s ass. The head of his cock pushed against the puckered hole and Eddie dropped down from his elbows to throw an arm over his eyes and use his free hand to grip the sheets that bunched below him. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Eds.”

“Rich,” Eddie moaned, tapping Richie’s arm that continued to rub the leaking head of his cock over Eddie’s entrance. “Richie, you threw the lube somewhere.”

“Fuck,” Richie shouted as he jumped off of Eddie, the smaller man giggling as Richie ran around the bed, his pale, and surprisingly supple, ass shaking as he moved. Once Richie found the lube, he ran back over to Eddie, a smile pulling at his lips as he listened to Eddie laugh. 

For a moment, Richie felt his heart ache at the sight of Eddie. A tangled mess in the sheets of his bed, with a million dollar smile spread across his face and all the fondness and love Richie could ever hope for in his gaze. Richie felt the image settle in his heart as he climbed back over Eddie. “You’re so beautiful, Eds,” he said, free hand moving to Eddie’s cheek, “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Richie moved until his hips rested between Eddie’s thighs and buried his face in the nape of the smaller boys neck. His mouth sucked at the sensitive skin there and, with his free hand, lubed his cock to the sound of Eddie moaning beneath him.

Pressing himself against Eddie’s entrance, Richie slowly pushed his cock into Eddie and began to tremble at the feeling of warmth enveloping him. “Fuck,” Eddie moaned as Richie’s cock stretched him out and he dug his nails into the skin of the taller mans shoulders. Richie’s mouth moved from Eddie’s neck up to his jaw, kissing and licking at the soft angles of his face. 

Once Richie’s hips rested against Eddie’s, his cock fully nestled inside of the smaller man, Richie looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes, hovering above him and putting his weight on his elbows. The pair stayed silent for a moment, Eddie’s hands roamed Richie’s collarbones and neck while Richie’s gripped the loose sheet beneath him.

Eddie let out a shaking breath before moving his hips slightly, feeling the drag of Richie’s cock and whimpering. “Fuck me, Richie.”

Without hesitating, Richie pulled his hips back almost completely before slamming them back against Eddie’s, shaking the man below him with the force of it. The eruption of pleasure punched a shout out of Eddie’s chest and his cock, which rested against his pale stomach, began leaking pre-cum in rivers that flowed across his ivory skin. 

“Fuck, Ed’s,” Richie moaned, eyes squeezing shut as rivets of pleasure traveled up his spine. “Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so fucking good. Holy shit.” 

Eddie moaned and pulled Richie’s chest down to meet his as their hips met rhythmically. The smaller man was panting and letting out whines as Richie slammed into him, moving his entire body up the mattress. Slowly, Eddie’s hands travelled up to grip Richie’s unruly and sweaty hair in a vice, jerking his head to the side to meet his lips in a slick and messy kiss.

The man above him moaned and, despite the sweat covering his skin, broke out in goosebumps at the tingling sensation fluttering down from where Eddie’s hands gripped him. Richie moved his mouth from Eddie’s and trailed open mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck before sucking a dark purple mark into the skin his collarbone rested beneath. The pinching feeling left Eddie squirming and tears began to pool in his dark eyes, the sensation becoming too much as Richie shifted and began hitting his prostate with every thrust of his hips.

“Right there, Richie,” he yelled out, back arching to chase the feeling. “Right there, fuck me.”

Richie laughed weakly against Eddie’s shoulder and slowed his hips, “That’s kind of what I’m doing, Eds.”

Eddie moaned, freely and slack-jawed, “You fuck me so good, Rich.”

“Yeah?” Richie groaned, moving to balance on his hands to look down at Eddie as he rocked his hips into the man below him. “You like how I fuck you, baby? Nice and deep?”

Eddie nodded his head as Richie’s hand moved to cup the side of his rouge race, thumb dipping into his mouth and grazing his tongue. “Keep going, Richie. Please,” he whispered as Richie thumb moved to trace his bruised lips, “I’m so close.”

Richie began to slam his cock harder into Eddie with a steady but brutal pace, slim hips meeting the soft sides of Eddie’s thighs as the smaller man held Richie close with his legs. “I want you to cum without me touching your dick, Eddie.”

Eddie whimpered, his cock twitched while his balls ached and tensed with the need to release. The coil in his stomach tightened and, as Richie’s cock continued to meet his prostate in a brutal attack, he felt his remaining resolve start to shake, working him up as moans and tears began to flow freely from him. “Shit, Richie. Shit, I love you so much. I love you so fucking much, keep fucking me. Please, please Rich.”

Richie’s eyes squeezed shut and he felt his composure snap, his hips stuttering and his cum starting to shoot out of him and into Eddie’s warmth. “Eds, Eds, Eds,” he moaned with each thrust, “Fuck, I love you, Eds. So fucking much.”

At the feeling of Richie’s warmth and the confession falling from his lips, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and began to spill ropes of cum against his stomach and Richie’s chest, arching as Richie’s hips continued to work him through his orgasm.

The stars and lights behind Eddie’s eyes began to fade out as Richie collapsed against him and mouthed at his neck, moaning praise incoherently. Eddie’s legs, still wrapped around Richie, trapped the other man on top of him as his hands trailed along the angry red marks that marred his back.

The pair come down from their high, sweaty and sticky, wrapped in each other and the late night New York bliss. 

“Hey,” Richie whispered against his skin, still breathless, “I love you.”

Eddie felt more tears gently leak out of his eyes, hugging Richie closer to his body, “I love you, too.”

“Do you think,” Richie started, unsure of how to finish, he took a moment to think it over before huffing out a lazy laugh, “Do you think we should take that shower now?”

Eddie laughed below Richie, the force of his giggles jostling Richie. “Definitely.”

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

The Press Tour

New York City, the final stop.

Part I     Part II

Warnings: Full smut ahead, but wow is it soft 

After looking in the mirror one more time, I sent up a silent prayer to the god who hated me so much, just in case they wanted to make amends, for tonight to go off without a hitch.

This was it, the final stop: New York City.

I knew the boys were tired, but they had done so well, and there had been no more disasters like the one in Italy. In fact, they hadn’t made a single demand of me since that calamitous side trip.

Although, not everything about it was a disaster.

There was this thing now between Rami and me. It was something palpable that had been birthed after our shared bed in that dilapidated motel room. I found myself thinking about him all the time, and I knew he was thinking about me, too.

Our conversations had become more natural, more intimate, and we often found ourselves taking our meals together, whether it be in a little place out of the way in the city we were in or in one of our hotel rooms at some ungodly hour when humans weren’t meant to be doing anything other than sleeping, watching the local news on TV in a language neither of us knew.

And now, as I looked at myself in the mirror, instead of a face full of pure elation, I was haunted by eyes that were trying to suppress a niggling dread. The tour had done just what I’d hoped it would do; it made me a success, and I already had to hire two assistants to help me work on the next press tour bookings.

As of midnight tonight, the Bohemian Rhapsody press tour was officially done.

Tomorrow, Rami Malek, soon-to-be global film star, would be on his way to LA to seek a few days solace with his family after spending so long on the road.  

And I would be flying to London by the week’s end to start a new press junket.  

Normally, I spent the main events in the wings, dressed head to toe in black, trying my best not to be seen as I worked.

But tonight was a celebration, of the film and of the boys, and a personal celebration of my success. I had chosen a blue, deep v-neck dress that was definitely a stand-out piece. I let hair and makeup have a go at me, although I skipped the heavy red-carpet makeup in favor a more natural look.

I knew I looked lovely.

With one final smoothing of my gown, I grabbed my clutch and headed down to meet the team in the lobby.

As soon as the boys noticed me, I was greeted with a chorus of catcalls that made me roll my eyes and wave at them to stop it. I didn’t need that kind of attention when the Brian May and the Roger Taylor were laughing with their wives and friends a few feet away at the bar. It was surreal to even believe that I was breathing the same air as them.

Besides, all that mattered was the way Rami was looking at me, almost as if he were seeing me for the first time after a long separation, even though we had all sat up in the hotel lobby, late into the night drinking, laughing, and celebrating.

I did my rounds, making sure everything was on schedule, but I could feel his eyes on me and every time I looked in his direction, he was watching me.

After answering a few last-minute questions, I made my way over to the boys, and they began again with the low whistles and praises.

“That’s embarrassing,” I hissed. “I am—and have been—an attractive woman this entire press tour. Show a little skin and you can’t handle it!”

Rami smiled and once again, he stepped in to save a sinking ship.

“It’s not what you’re wearing. You’re glowing, Y/N. Pride? I mean look at this! You did it,” he said, his voice lowering and very obviously filled with pride for my work.

“Rami’s right,” Gwilym added. “We owe you a great big thank you—for getting the film this level of exposure and for keeping us sane along the way.”

“Mmm, sane is a pretty subjective term,” Joe said, drawing chuckles out of us before he looked at me and spoke a very genuine thank you.

I felt myself tear up, so I leaned in and gave Joe a quick hug before rushing off to get everyone properly queued for the red carpet.

* * * * *

Tucked away in a dark corner of the after party, I typed up an answer to an email that just couldn’t wait until the morning.

I sucked in a breath when Rami appeared at my elbow, offering me a glass of champagne.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, his beautiful eyes sparkling.

I took the champagne, grateful for his attentiveness.

“Wait—” he interrupted, his fingers brushing the back of my wrist before the glass reached my lips. “A toast?”

I smiled, nodding for him to continue.

“To us.”

“Alright,” I said slowly, my grin barely faltering as I echoed, “To us,” and raised my glass to my lips.

Our eyes never left one another’s as we drank that first sip of our toast, but our stolen moment was short lived as another throng of people spotted Rami and engaged him in conversation.

With a last, lingering glance, I slipped away.

* * * * *

It was almost 2 am when I slid my key into the lock of my door and cursed as it blinked red. I slid it again, and cursed again.

“Third time’s a charm,” rumbled a familiar, deep voice close enough to my ear to make my arms break out in goosebumps.

“Rami,” I whispered as my eyes slipped shut for a moment, my hand trembling as the card hovered just before the magnetic strip.

His lips pressed quickly against my bare shoulder.

“I know what’s at stake, Y/N. Fate brought us closer together once. Let it decide again. If it turns green, we spend the night together.”

I took a deep breath, shakily exhaling as I said, “You do it—I . . . I can’t.”

In one smooth motion, as if he already knew our fate, he plucked the keycard from my fingers and swiped it through the lock, both of us watching as it blinked green.

My head tried to whip in his direction, but he was already pushing me through the door as he leaned into the handle. As soon as the door clicked behind us, Rami pinned me against the wall and kissed me.

We had come so close that night in the motel and had I known that it would be anything, anything like this, I would’ve just done it—I would have kissed him and then let him fuck me and I would have taken Joe and Gwil’s tormenting with absolute glee.

Rami’s lips molded themselves over mine in that first brutal press that marked him as claiming me. He exhaled into the kiss then began moving his mouth, working mine open until he could slide his tongue between my lips. The feeling of his tongue swirling with mine sent a flood of arousal to my core and a rush of blood to my ears.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe so I pushed him back, just to look in his eyes.

His polychromatic eyes looked dark blue in the dim light of the lamp I had forgotten I had left on. They were alert, despite the exhaustion of the evening, and they flicked between mine, trying to read whether I wanted him to continue or to stop.

Before he could speak, I reached out and grasped his face in my hands, running my thumbs over the smooth skin of his cheeks before I let them fall to ghost over his jaw. His eyes slipped shut and his lips stayed parted as I slid my hands down his neck and to the shoulders of his grey and black-striped suit. I slipped my fingers underneath the jacket and grasped his shoulders, pushing the material down his arms.

He opened his eyes as he wriggled free, and this time, he encircled my waist and pulled me to his body. He stepped into the hug and squeezed me tight, and I thought again about how he had looked at me tonight.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and ran one hand through his hair, the side of my face pressed tightly against his as we both just stood there, inhaling the presence of the other, cementing this fantasy into a reality.

“Unzip me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rami made a noise, deep in his chest, and his fingers immediately went to the back of my dress.

I clung to him as he slid the zipper lower, his fingers very purposefully trailing along each newly exposed expanse of skin.

My dress hadn’t allowed for a bra so the first barrier he encountered was the top of my matching, lace panties.

I stepped out of his embrace and moved farther into the room, facing away from him as I raised one foot up to slip off one of my heels, then the other; I worked myself the rest of the way out of my dress, finally letting it pool at my bare feet.

I could feel his eyes on me as I listened to him open the clasp on his watch, the sound of it dropping onto the desk so alluring that it made me shiver. Next went his cufflinks, and then he kicked off his shoes, and I waited, only turning my head when I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Do you know how many times I’ve gone to sleep thinking about your beautiful back? The way your soft skin felt under my fingers? The way all that tension loosened as I worked over your muscles?

“Do you know how often I’ve thought about this freckle?” he asked, his lips kissing my shoulder blade. “Or this one right here?”

I shivered as he kissed near the middle of my back.

“Or how often I’ve imagined running my hands over the gorgeous curves of your waist . . . like this,” he breathed as he touched me, pulling a sigh of contentment from my throat.

“Rami. I—”

“Shhh . . . let me take care of you.”

His touch. His voice. His praise. It was all so much better than anything I had built up in my mind.

I turned to face him, and his eyes ran greedily over my body.

“So fucking gorgeous.”

I smiled at his words and moved forward, wanting him to at least match me in my state of undress.

I worked the buttons on the front of his shirt and pulled the tails from his pants before pushing the fabric off of his body, just like his jacket. I took a moment to run my hands over his olive skin, scratching lightly at his well-groomed chest hair.

I reached up and wrapped my hand around the side of his neck, pushing his chin up with my thumb. I kissed down his neck, before licking back up to his jaw and pressing a kiss near his ear.

“Such a pretty face,” I said, pulling a crooked grin from him as I stepped back, my hands already on his belt.

I worked his trousers open and off without ceremony, and as soon as he was free of everything but his grey boxer-briefs, he pulled our bodies together, our torsos connecting for the first time as he kissed me, deeply and purposefully.

He hoisted me up, tripping over our clothes, and he clumsily deposited me on the bed while he tumbled in painfully on top of me.

“When you replay tonight, leave that part on the editing room floor,” he said, both of us softly laughing.

“No,” I said, still smiling as I situated myself underneath of him. “That was almost as romantic as you untying my shit-covered shoelaces.”

Rami laughed again, his eyes crinkling in the corners and his teeth flashing; god, he was beautiful when he was happy.

“That made the final cut, huh--Ohhh,” Rami breathed out as I cut him off by rocking into his hard cock.

“Ohhh,” I echoed, smiling up at him before pulling him into another kiss.

Rami broke this kiss to begin working his way down my body, moving slowly to learn what I liked, and by the time his lips were kissing along the edge of my panties, I needed him desperately.

He worked my underwear off my legs and tossed them over his shoulder; he grasped my knees and slid his hands up, gently pushing apart my thighs, moaning when he saw that I was glistening.

“So wet,” he murmured, unable to tear his gaze away.

“I need you, Rami—we’ve waited long enough.”  

He looked up at my words, then slid off the bed so he could take his underwear off. I barely had time to appreciate his cock before he was between my legs again, his tip sliding teasingly through my wetness.

“Uh, should we . . .”

“I’m good if you’re good—there’s no one else, Y/N,” he said with seriousness.

I nodded and pulled him onto me. He rotated a bit to the side to grasp his cock so he could slide into me, shallowly thrusting until he pushed all the way in and we both moaned.

“Feels better than I ever imagined,” he said before kissing me as he began to move.

“So much better,” I agreed, shifting my hips so he could thrust even deeper.

We built to a rhythm, Rami eventually shifting back onto his haunches so he could pull my body against his hips and thrust deep enough to make me feel lost to pleasure. I reached up to grasp the slats of the headboard and Rami leaned forward to run his hands over my breasts, pulling lightly on my nipples and making me gasp. He trailed his hands back down my body and at this angle, he was perfectly able to work my clit. He settled his hand on my mound and used his thumb to start applying pressure, asking me what I liked.

I directed him until I could no longer form any word other than “yes.”

His thrusts became erratic as he built up my pleasure, and he stilled as I came, watching me as I cried out, moaning, “Rami Rami Rami Rami.”

“So beautiful,” he whispered as he started to move again, and this time, he was moaning with every thrust at how tight and hot I was after my orgasm.

“Come, Rami. I wanna see your pretty face when you come,” I murmured, sitting up on my elbows as I met his thrusts, my own breath still coming in pants.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his hands anchoring my hips as he pistoned into me until he bit his lip and threw back his head as he came, looking just as beautiful as I had imagined he would.

I felt his cum splash inside of me, so hot and so much of it, and I shivered with pleasure as he lowered his head, an indentation on his lower lip where he had bitten down almost hard enough to draw blood.

Instead of pulling out, he settled on top of me, pushing himself still deeper inside. He held himself up, just enough not to hurt me but not so far as to have a gap between us. I could feel his heart hammering in his chest and I reached up to settle my fingers over his flushed skin.

“I can’t wait to wake up in the morning and do this again,” Rami said, sleep evident as his cock finally softened enough to slide out of me, both of us shifting our hips at the loss of contact.

“Should we, though? Maybe this is better as—”

“If you say that was a one-off, I will walk out of here, naked as the day I was born, bring the guys into this room, along with half of the rest of the tour managers, maybe even Bri and Rog if I run into them along the way, to explain to you what a dumbass idea that really is.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, sighing, “This is going to be so hard. You’re going to LA. I’m going to London—”

“We will figure it out,” Rami said, tucking his arms under me as he rolled onto his back and took me with him, pulling me on top of his body.

I chuckled and shivered at the cool air.

“Cold up there? If you agree to date me, I’ll let you pull up the covers.”

“Rami!” I said swatting at him as I tried to reach for the comforter.

“Nope. Date me.”

I laughed as he squeezed me, his face splitting into a grin as he knew I was trapped.

“Be serious!”

“I’ve never been more serious. You can’t tell me that wasn’t special—you literally cannot tell me that something hasn’t been working to push us together during this tour? How many mudslides could have possibly happened at that exact moment in that exact location at the exact time we all lost service for our cells? Hmm?”

“You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“I already couldn’t stop thinking about you before that trip—fuck, that’s why we went on the trip. Now, imagine how much I thought about us after sharing a bed with you?”

I didn’t know what else to say so I kissed him. I kissed him because he was right. I kissed him because I was half in love with him already. I kissed him because I didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. And I kissed him because no matter what tomorrow brought, I wanted to know that he would be there for it.

“Is that a yes?” Rami said smiling, knowing damned well it was a yes.

“Yes,” I said with an exaggerated huff.

“Good because I’m freezing!” he said, finally releasing me so he could reach down to pull the covers over us.

I shook my head and settled on to my side, waiting for him to wrap his arm around me, just like he did in Italy.

Rami shifted closer, his lips pressing kisses into my back as his arm finally wound around my waist.

“Better not hog the covers this time,” Rami said, his voice husky with impending sleep.

I snuggled back into him, smiling as I fell asleep, no longer needing to rely only on the memory of Rami’s arms around me as we shared a bed.

Tags: @ramimedley @clumsybookworm18 @r-ahh-mi @aboutthatmelancholystorm @alottanothing @sherlollydramoine @txmel @diasimar @hah0106 @flipper-kisses@rami-malek-trash @ramisgirl512 @dancing-disco-deacy @just-a-queen-bee @eightiesriot @s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r @breadnbutternips

[dvsvsgrr]

and a higher torque version will be available

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[diamondborn]

                ❛    yusuke   ,  come on  !   we need to meet with the weddin' planner  !!    ❜   slipping on your winter boots and buttoning up your jacket  ,  you stand at the door to wait for your fiancé to finish up  .  today was an exciting   ———  albeit ,  packed  ————   day .  you've heard that most men aren't as enthusiastic about wedding planning as the women  ,  but as a designer and visionary yourself this was a treat .    ❛   it's already 11:15 and we gotta meet her at noon  ,  traffic's gonna be a bitch at this time !    ❜

@thuganomxcs​  /   starter call  !

[greenkratomcbdfacts]

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