#Vine Street Imports

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPxDC prompt. Fae!Danny x Jason. Dead on main. Death of a Fairy Tale. or

"Oh no! This tricky hooman stole my heart! What should I do?" *becomes a leader of his court and, just in case, overthrows the tyrant Pariah Dark in order to allow marriages with representatives of other races and live happily ever after with Jay*.

~~~~~

 “You're not allowed to be here. This is not your territory.”

Jason barely had time to catch his breath after escaping from the hot dog vendor when someone noticed him hiding in the bushes.

There were no rides for children or food vans in this park, so Todd didn't understand why anyone would cling to this territory but the guy looked at him with obvious concern. And well, after the morning's adventures, Jay didn't have any energy for another conflict at all. This kid looked pale and thin, so it didn't look like fighting with him would get him anything.

“Calm down, I'm just passing by. What's your problem, dude?”

“I live somewhere ne...here.”

Jason rolled his eyes. It's clear that the guy lived nearby, but it's unlikely that he had a house. The lack of a T-shirt and shoes hinted that in front of him was also a street rat who most likely had not yet learned how to defend his belongings. Poor guy. But this is definitely not Jason's business.

However, did he really spend the night outside in the open air? Sleeping on the bench was a last choice even for Jason. This might be acceptable options in some quiet provincial town, not in Gotham.

“I mean, what are you doing outside?”

Young Phantom checks his glamour, but finds no flaws in it. This man in front of him must be very knowledgeable and experienced, despite his young age, since he immediately recognized him as not a human being. For Danny, who lived with other fairies in Fairyland all his childhood and came to this dimension for the first time, the outside always meant the world of human. Fae shocked and upset that he was discovered so quickly. Haven't people almost forgotten about their existence? The elders would swear a lot if they found out that he had failed. The boy carefully orders the vine and clover to cover the circle of mushrooms, hiding the front door from the human. He was the only one of the entire brood entrusted by Undergrowth to start a practice in a city where there are almost no plants and sunlight, and faeling did not want to let down the mentor who took him under his wing at all.

The old Fairies claim that people are mean and narrow-minded, but Danny himself is intrigued by these creatures and therefore hopes that he will be able to come to an agreement with the boy and to continue his research without obstacles. Danny intends to take the exam for the right to be called an adult fae this decade, which means he has no right to make mistakes. But still, forcing a guy to dance until he drops dead from exhaustion or make him wander along the paths of this small green area without being able to find a way out, as he was taught to get rid of pests at home, seemed too cruel. This boy, just like him, is still a cub and he is here by accident, not to encroach on their possessions. They need not quarrel.

“Don't banish me. I'm just trying to learn.”

“To do what?”

“To steal.” Danny blushes, realizing that such honesty was unnecessary. Stupid, stupid...People know that faeries can take their names, thereby gaining power over them. Now this cub will definitely decide that he has come to cause harm and he will not be able to learn anything useful and interesting. Phantom quickly makes excuses. “Nothing important! I only borrowed trinkets and fruits.”

“You're new to this, aren't you?”

“Is it that noticeable?”

“Pretty noticeable, yes.”

The boy looked at him almost pityingly. And the Phantom didn't like it.

That's how the spirits and other fairies used to look at him when they found out he was only halfa. Because of this fact, his abilities were belittled and not taken seriously too often. What's wrong with that? He's dead just like everyone else, even if not completely.

And now he's screwed up, not even because of his nature, but because of his sluggishness. It was especially unpleasant, as it was deserved. He should have spent his time more productively, but the flowers bred with the help of humans were so interesting and talked about their longing for the sun with such sadness that fae did not dare to interrupt them.

Jason finished both of the stolen hot dogs and leaved the park. The guy still follow him and stares intently, almost without blinking.

“Stop it. What do you want?”

“I study. You seem experienced. “

“People don't really like being stared at like this, in case you didn't know. Back off.”

“Really?”

Jason was ready to be outraged that the kid thought he was an idiot but the tramp from the park looked really puzzled. It seems that if he ever had parents, they didn't care about the boy, since they didn't explain to him that atypical behavior could add him problems. The boy is lucky that Jay is an asshole only when absolutely necessary.

“You're weird. Try to keep your mouth shut near others.”

“Okay.”

Jason took a few minutes to think and sighed. Todd could not leave this strange child alone, because damn conscience would not allow it. He can't survive alone. He will either wander after some other person and become a victim of trafficking or he will be at the beck and call of some assholes in the late afternoon. Jason cursed his bleeding heart once more and promised himself that he would keep the boy by his side no longer than necessary. Jay couldn't afford to be responsible for another mouth to feed. Summer has already come to an end and it was worth starting to save a little money and store things in case of early cold weather.

“If I teach you some of my skills will you promise to stay away from the places where I…work?”

“Maybe. Is this a deal?”

“Yes, if you'll agree, idiot. “

Danny nods and his new acquaintance continues.

“First of all, we'll get you shoes and some clothes. I don't need you to pick up tetanus and some viral crap.”

Danny smiles a little, trying not to make it too noticeable. Great trick.

He nodded to indicate understanding rather than agreeing, and the boy did not ask for verbal confirmation. It seems that he is not completely hopeless at deceiving people. Phantom couldn't wait to tell Clockwork or Frostbite about his success.

They wound through streets and rooftops for a long time until they reached other man's temporary shelter, and Danny had to admit that the man's decision to borrow more clothes was very clever. Strange sharp things and narrow bags of biological fluid were found between the houses disgustingly often. The elders are right about something? Danny must admit. Some people are nasty. They didn't even clean the settlement they live in properly.

A foul-smelling device for carrying things flew into the face of fae while he thoughtfully followed the boy telling him something about removing so-called tires from the iron inanimate horses.

“Dude, stop fighting with a trash bag. You'll stand guard while I give the customer the goods, okay?”

“Fine.” To be honest, the intern was ready to cry from the injustice of life and rush home, and he was only stopped by the desire to visit the observatory, which his new acquaintance mentioned when fae complained that because of the smoke and smog the stars would probably not be visible at night.

Danny realized that he did not regret his decision when, a couple of minutes later, he heard his human quarreling with adult specimen. Judging by the conversation, the man refused to pay the price for the things brought to him and even threatened to hit Phantom's guide. Danny was annoyed by this and decided to intervene a little. To his good fortune, on the balcony of this vile man there was a pot with withering petunias and they did not mind helping lil fae teach their owner manners. A slight whiff of magic and the pot falls on the deceiver's head and human begins to choke on the roots that climb right into his mouth. Danny giggles, congratulating his green comrades on their successful revenge. Other boy doesn't waste any time and grabs the bucks that fell out of the customer's hands and orders new boy to run.

Danny spent several days with human cub and really learned a lot about these creatures. Despite the fact that such a pastime was exciting, he needed to at least create the illusion of practice the fae skills.

It is dangerous to ask a person who knows who he is about this but teachers will be upset if he does not make an attempt. And despite the fact that the people around him seem scary, Nocturn will be much scarier in anger if he finds out that Phantom is such a loser.

“Ma- Can I have your name?” Danny muttered uncertainly and immediately panicked at his own impudence. “Sorry!”

“Jason.”

Todd was in a good mood, as luck had been with him for the last few days, and the new companion was not at all as useless as it seemed to him from the beginning. He was able to hide so well that no one could detect them, and managed to bring fresh fruits, vegetables and mushrooms to their safe house. However, there were problems with the last one, since this strange dude sometimes brought toadstools and satan's boletes to their apartment, which he managed to get from unknown places. Jason thought he was going to have a heart attack the first time he caught child happily eating raw fly agaric. Indeed, if Jay hadn't found him this boy would probably have died of poisoning in that park by now. Todd had to persuade him to bring only chanterelles, which he could confidently identify as edible and not fear for their lives every time the boy tries to help find food. And his padawan really managed to find them. In Gotham. Holy shit. Maybe this park, so fiercely guarded by the boy, was another secret area for Poison Ivy's experiments? However, poisonous specimens will not be wasted either, since you never know when you will need to defend yourself without entering into a fight, but acting more subtly.

“Real name! Real one!” The boy's eyes were as big as saucers and he became very worried and waved his hands as if trying to shake off invisible sticky threads from his fingertips. “You shouldn't say your actual name! Why did you do that? You shouldn't have given it to me.”

“There are a lot of Jason's around. Why do you care about that?”

“You're not just some Jason, you're my Jason, you're important to me. It's dangerous if someone has your name. Then that someone can make you do bad things.”

Tears began pouring down boy's face and Jason was surprised by such a violent reaction. Todd doesn't think there's anything to worry about, since he didn't tell the stranger his last name. He often introduces himself in different ways. Just, for some reason, something made him be honest this time. But how would this guy know that?

“Well…You're not just anyone. We're friends. I don't think you're going to rat on me to the cops or anything. So it's okay. “ Jay tries to calm the newcomer down.

“Friends?”

“Yes. Friends forever?” Jason teasingly holds out his little finger, offering a childish oath that he recently taught his padawan.

“Forever.” The boy supports the oath, and then, after thinking for a second, leans closer to Todd and whispers. "I'm Danny, just so you know."

“Good. I'll remember.”

The young fae is overcome with euphoria. He took the name! He did it! But that was all the other boy had, apart from a rusty tire iron, so it probably wasn't right or friendly to keep it. The human cub helped him. Danny couldn't keep such a gift. He didn't even really try to get his name. “Jason is your name.”

“That's right, buddy.”

“I won't call you that name.” Where I come from, even spouses rarely know each other's names. Danny wanted to assure his friend that he should not be afraid that he would abuse his power. “ I like you so I will take full responsibility for the possession of such a gift, don't worry.”

“Hah, in order to take responsibility, you already need to at least marry me as a moral compensation, given the number of brain cells killed by your antics. “

“Well, if I have to, then I will. When we're older.”

Jason snorts and shakes his head. It's probably not love, since they're just kids, but still, Jason thinks that if all autumn evenings were like this, he wouldn't mind spending his life with Danny, snuggling closer to the boy while they both bask under the same blanket. No matter how many times a day they managed to roll in the mud and fall into the trash can, the boy always gave off a light scent reminiscent of spring greens, which reminded Todd of something warm and cozy. Maybe a home? Although when his father was not in prison yet, his house smelled more like the stench of cigarette smoke and mold.  So Danny was more like a hope for a good home that they write about in books.

On their free evenings Jason usually entertained them by reading. Danny has always been an attentive listener, reacting vividly. After stroking the battered cover of a new book he found, Jason puts it aside. He's too tired today, and  just wants to listen.

Noticing this, Danny begins to chirp about his homeland. His stories are like fairy tales, too bright and colorful for the stone Jungle. Jay realized a long time ago that his friend had something like a defense mechanism. Todd himself snapped and fought when the world was too cruel, this guy escaped to his fictional world, where he was safer and happier. His friend could have been a great writer someday. The descriptions of Princess Dorathea and her cruel brother, pharaoh with an unusual passion for technology and ultra-recyclo vegetarian queen of plants were so detailed and vivid that they seemed true. Danny's imagination contained the whole world.

When the first snowflakes fall to the ground, Danny says that this means that his friend Frostbite will soon come to pick him up. Jason is honestly not ready for such a turn of events. He promised himself that he would not be around another boy for longer than necessary, but he managed to get attached. He hopes that this statement is just another one of his companion's fantasies and forgets about it for a while.

A snowstorm is raging in the city when Danny does not return home. The snowfall does not stop for several days, and Todd realizes that his friend left him, although all his belongings are left in their apartment. He hopes that someone really came for the boy, and not that in the spring his body will be found in one of the melting snowdrifts.  After a few months, when the canned homemade vegetables carefully cooked by Danny are coming to an end, and the mold, sitting alone  in a corner of the ceiling all winter, felt the first the warm rays of the sun, Todd decides not to waste energy on useless worries and hopes.

Soon, as Danny would put it, Batman steals Jason. Todd doesn't really trust the old man at first, but he teaches him to be Robin, and, well, Robin is cool. He's magic. Robin is an urban legend, a spirit worthy of being the hero of Danny's favorite stories. Robin is Jason's connection not only to the city itself, but also to his past. Robin does not need to think about whether he should grieve not only for his mother but also for his friend. Robin is more. There is not only strength and hope in this uniform, but also memories, nostalgia and  humanness. Therefore, Todd is not ready to give up the suit, even if he understands Grayson's displeasure. Because when he goes out on a patrol, the longing becomes less, and he feels that he is getting better and closer to something important. It helps.

No.

It helped.

And then he died.

And things are getting worse by the day, hah.

~~~A few hits with a crowbar later~~~

Jason learns about a new attempt of eco-terrorism relatively late, when he is officially called to help. Even so he stays at the place of the fight before the rest of the family. Firstly, because this time Ivy decided to start destruction from the closest to Crime Alley park, and secondly because Ivy's creations always pay little attention to him. Even the famous pollen has almost no effect on Hood.

Making his way through the furiously writhing vines, Red Hood notices the enemy and realizes that it is not Ivy, but decides that he will analyze the situation during the battle and rushes forward.

“Hey! Don't touch B, you.. “Almost flying into a guy with such a familiar face, the Hood slows down sharply “... pointy-eared.”

A guy with sparkling green energy in his hand and a vigilante with a pistols in each hand freeze looking at each other.

“Man, is it you?”

Snow-white hair, glowing green eyes, transparent dragonfly-like wings and razor-sharp claws are completely unfamiliar to Todd, but facial features, expressions and a bracelet with star pendants that Jay gave Danny for his birthday, adorning one of the impressive polished horns, allow to recognize him.

“Jay! It's been a long time, my friend.” Hearing Todd's voice, despite the sound changed by the helmet, the creature calms down. “You've grown up a lot.”

“And you're still so short. Wow. And, by the way, I can't believe you're still keep it.” Red puts the safety of the guns and then points one of them at the jewellery. “It's from a dollar store, nothing special.”

John says goodbye to the hope of a day off after the mission, cursing the manners of the bat and his offspring. Is a couple of days without the risk of interdimensional conflict really that too much to ask for?

“You gave it to me. That's why it's special.”

The creature smiles and Todd feels his face blushing. It's a good thing he's still wearing his helmet. Danny looks too…magical…in every sense.

“Do you know him, Hood?” Of course, Bat cannot stay out of the conversation when nothing is holds him back.

“No.”

“Yes.”  Danny denies the statement of Hood, proudly puffs out his chest and declares. “He was my first. He calls himself Hood these days? How strange.”

Bat gasps and exhales indignantly.

Jason quickly connects the fact that his friend is definitely not human with the possibility that Danny's stories were true.

“Name!” Trying to fix the chaos that his friend is trying to involve them in, Red Hood hurries to explain. “He's talking about damn name. I'm the first one who gave...”

“Oh, come on, spoilsport. He almost believed me.” The fairy winks playfully and Jason has to do his best to focus on the mission and not on the guy. “You're my betrothed anyway. And, hey, I collected the library as a wedding gift.”

“Hm.” Hood rolls his eyes. This joke about their childhood promise would have been hilarious if he hadn't felt the old man's rising pressure behind his back. So, returning to the problem, he still needs to get these two away from each other as soon as possible. Neither Danny nor Bruce has a calm personality, and Jason didn't want to start Danny's acquaintance with Alfred by giving first aid to these dummies. “So what's all the fuss about? Are you like um.. Ivy's pet-pixie or what?”

Now John Constantine, who carefully watched the meeting from the sidelines, almost feels his blood pressure rising too. Compare faeries with garden pests. What was Batman's son thinking about, showing such disrespect? He wanted them to have more problems or what?

“Hm? Who is Ivy? I've never heard of her. To be honest, I'm only here because our gate was disturbed.” The fairy chirped angrily and, with a nervous flutter of his wings, flew up to the bushes. His finger pointed accusingly at the crushed mushrooms that John and Batsy had landed on when they unsuccessfully attacked Dr. Isley. “But even though your companions' behavior is inexcusable, I don't blame you, of course. I am glad that we met again because of this incident, Tagetes.”

The Faerie circle...John hadn't seen this in years. Damn Gotham. He difenetly doesn't want the problems of this crazy city to fall under his and Shazam's responsibility. Now it is clear why Rogue disappeared so quickly. She probably knew about it and wanted to make them someone else's problem. Damn it twice, John should have sent a message instead of coming to Gotham to discuss business with Wayne. Being uninvited guests of such mischievous and malicious hosts does not bode well.

“You are lucky that the Fright Knight is not on duty today. But someone will have to answer for it. Is it really so hard to look at your feet? Or is this a deliberate provocation? I demand an apology.”

“No, enough games for you. They're a little busy chasing someone, in case you didn't notice.” Jason starts pulling on his friend's hand, intending to take him out of the park. Next to these paranoids, it's better not to ask an old friend about anything. “Only good little fairies are invited to my safe house to taste my signature lasagna today, so stop trying to give my old man a heart attack, okay?”

“Wait. Is this Willis?” The fairy's eyes narrow and he looks at the cloaked dark figure with disapproval.

"No, another jerk. B has a problem with adoptions and that's the reason I'm now part of his brood." Jason reluctantly explains. "He literally dragged me off the streets without consent after I tried to take the tires off his car."

“Oh my Ancients, he did what?! But you're mine! He had no right to steal you.” Danny indignantly rustled the leaves of the closest trees.

“I prefer to be considered as my own man, thank you very much.”

“Riiight…but still, speaking absolutely one hundred percent theoretically, who would you rather stay with, darling? If only you were mine~”

“Ja-..Don't let yourself be fooled, Red Hood. You can't trust him. Ten or even fifty years spent on a prank don't mean anything to this creature.” Bruce doesn't look happy with how at ease Todd is with the threat, but frankly, he rarely looks happy at all, so the crime lord doesn't attach too much importance to it.

"Wow. Rude. This is partially true, but it still hurts. Jason is a friend. I won't do anything to him and I don't demand anything from him. I can't say that about the rest of you. I was preparing for a long-awaited vacation, and because of your fuss I have a new bunch of paperwork to do. What can you say in your defense?"

The boy with the snow-white hair didn't look really upset, but just because there was still a smile on his face, it couldn't be said that he wasn't furious. Next to fairies, all human senses became enemies, not allies.

Despite the deceptive good-naturedness of merrily fluttering his wings guy, John was on high alert. Short-tempered, playful and obnoxious temperament were both a blessing and a curse when working with these creatures. Fairies skillfully searched for loopholes in contracts and in general were the best deceivers among those who could only tell the truth. Faeries prefer to bend victims to their will with words, but they are skilled users of the magic of nature and chaos. They also, despite the business acumen as strong as the alligator's mouth closing strength, were willing to play cat-and-mouse with those who dared to turn to him for help or just walk near their possessions. And this specimen was also clearly not one of the fairies that Morningstar had taken over control, since his energy reeked of Infinite Realms. Unknown territory. John urgently needs to come up with some ingenious plan to get everyone out of this fighting safe and relatively unscathed and…

“Fuck off, B. I told you he already has my name. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it at any time. You should show more respect for your future son-in-law, you know.”

“Jason, honey, since when do street rats hang out with bats?” Danny obviously didn't have much sympathy for the Gotham vigilante before, but because of his story, their chances of getting along tended to zero.

“Oh, come on, don't even start this conversation. What is more important…Who would I rather stay with? Hm…Let's say, um, theoretically, of course…If your fiance was killed by one very very bad cruel clown, what would you do, Stardust?

"I would tear clown molecule by molecule."

“Yes, yes! Right!” Jason pats Danny on the shoulder and turns to Batman. “See, that's how you should have reacted.”

Constantine: …What an Addams family. I'm leaving. I've already seen enough. If you get kidnapped, don't call me. Damn freaks.

Come with me now to see my world

Where there's beauty beyond your dreams

Strangers Like Me - Phil Collins

[shellshocklove]

i wanna be your lover | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, swearing, misogyny (bc of the times™), accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes (it’s the 70s alright), mentions of a bad previous sexual encounter and losing your virginity, use of pet names, porn (obviously lmao), sextoys, only one bed, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: i had fun with this one, but it turned out to be longer than i first intended. i hope people will like it still! also big thank you to @dustydaddyyy​, for proofreading this

main masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Under a pink and orange Los Angeles sky, your platforms clicked against the sidewalk. Day left an hour ago, dipping behind the green hills of Laurel Canyon. Walking down The Strip, arms linked with your friend Deborah, the street bustled in the awakening night. Music spilled from clubs and bars, seducing the dressed-up crowd passing by this Friday night.

“Do a little dance, make a little love,”

“This,” Deborah emphasized, coming to a stop outside a club, “is exactly what you need tonight to get your mind off everything.”

She clutched your arm tighter to her body, almost like she was afraid you’d run off, and maybe she had good reason to think you would. You weren’t exactly in the right mood to party. Only a few hours ago, you’d gotten fired from your job. Three years as Mr. Cooper’s personal assistant down the drain.

Mr. Cooper was the creative director, and one of the partners at the advertisement agency where you’d worked. He was an important man, and he’d dealt with all kinds of clients on a daily basis. For you, it had been a learning curve of a job. You had no prior experience as a personal assistant, and it had been intimidating.

You’d only just moved to the City of Angels when you’d gotten the job. With next to no money, having left behind your family and your small town, you were desperate for a job. When you’d seen the ad in the newspaper, left behind on the table of a café near your apartment, you’d stepped out on the sidewalk immediately to find a payphone. During the interview Mr. Cooper had looked you up and down and scowled as he’d read your resume. You’d shrank in your seat under his gaze, but even with your lacking resume, Mr. Cooper had hired you on the spot.

Later, during your first full week at your new job, you’d come to discover why Mr. Cooper had hired you so quickly ­– he’d been desperate for a new assistant. Overhearing some of the other ladies whispering to each other during lunch, you’d been able to piece together exactly why. Apparently, Mr. Cooper and his former personal assistant had been having an affair. He’d gotten her pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her or the baby – he was a married man after all. This was where the story had gotten hazy, and the grape vine sang different songs. One version of the story said he’d forced her to get an abortion and riddled with grief over the dead baby and their failing relationship, she’d quit her job and moved back to her parents in Maine. While the other version of the story said that, rightfully angry at Mr. Cooper for not taking any responsibility over their situation, she’d gone to visit his wife at home to tell her about what’s been going on. Which story was the truth, you don’t know. What you did know, was that Mr. Cooper was still married, and his previous assistant was no longer working for him.

Even if the job had been intimidating at first, you’d quickly gotten used to it. You stayed on top of everything: Mr. Copper’s clients, his calls, his schedule. Ordered flowers for his wife, and even sent boxes of chocolates to his various paramours. You’d made sure the bar in his office was always stacked with his favorite bourbon, and most importantly: you’d made sure to be seen and not heard. It’s what he told you, in the job interview, that he wanted.

You had thought you were doing a good job, but clearly, Mr. Cooper had been laboring under a different impression…

Your day had started like every other day – normal. You’d arrived at work fifteen minutes before Mr. Cooper, like always. Dutifully greeting him with a sweet “Good morning, sir!” at your desk, and served him his morning coffee minutes later. The day continued like normal, occupied with calls and speaking to clients, you had no idea what shocking message you’d receive at the end of your day.

Outside the club, you gave Deborah a meek smile which faded when you saw the line snaking its way down the street, “Sure, but… we’ll never get in.”

“Get down tonight, get down tonight,”

The words of KC And The Sunshine Band traveled through the open club door, the music filled the warm summer air.

“Don’t worry, babes!” she beamed, “I know the owner.” With an overdramatic wink and a giggle, she pulled you towards the bouncer.

“Baby, baby, I'll meet you, same place, same time,”

“How exactly do you know the owner of this place?” you queried, as you passed through the door of the club while the music got louder and louder.

“Where we can get together, and ease up our mind,”

“Let’s just say we had a weekend together…,” she giggled, “and I got to know him very… intimately.”

Your eyes widened at her implications, and Deborah giggled even louder.

“Don’t look so surprised!” she laughed, “I’m all about free love,” she joked, putting up a peace sign.

A heat burned your cheeks. Still, after three years in LA you needed to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t in your small rural hometown anymore. No one was going to arrest you for talking about sex. Nevertheless, the habit was hard to shake, and the roots of the rules you’d grown up with – the ones that had taught you to be the perfect student and the perfect daughter – stayed embedded in your mind.

“So…” Deborah started, her back against the bar while she took her first sip of her Apple Martini. She’d ordered you some fruity cocktail you’d never had before that she swore you’d like. “What exactly did that sad excuse of a man say to you when he fired you?”

With a scrunch of your nose, you turned your attention to your drink, taking a sip. It tasted sugary, but fresh, one of those dangerous drinks where you couldn’t taste the alcohol.

“Let’s not talk about it?” you sighed, shooting Deborah another meek smile.

She returned your smile, but it was full of pity. “You’re right! Let’s not– Let’s forget that fucker,” she said, taking a generous sip of her drink, “you’ll easily get a new job! I know it!” she smiled.

Not soon after Deborah had finished her first drink, a man interrupted your conversation. The man was tall, with black wild hair, pork chops and a matching mustache. He was wearing a flower-patterned shirt tucked into a pair of brown bell-bottoms. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing dark chest hair and a gold chain. He wasn’t bad looking.

His hand on Deborah’s back didn’t seem to bother her, quite the opposite, she jumped excitedly, throwing her hands around his neck in greeting. You couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear over the music, but it made her laugh.

“This is Tommy! He owns the club,” Deborah introduced you.

With a friendly smile, you shook Tommy’s hand and introduced yourself. His grip was firm, not like those people that made shaking their hand feel like gripping a dead fish. You decided that it was a good sign.

“So�� are ya enjoyin’ yourselves, ladies?” he asked with a charming smile.

“Oh, yes!” Deborah smiled, her painted nails landing on his bicep, “But I think we’d enjoy ourselves even more after another drink.”

With a knowing smile and an easy laugh, Tommy ushered the bartender closer. “’nother round for these two beautiful ladies,” he ordered, “and… they’re drinkin’ on the house for the rest of the night,” he added, sending Deborah a wink.

The bartender served you your second drink just as Tommy convinced Deborah to dance with him. Quickly, she downed her Apple Martini before she turned to you, guilt written all over her face.

“You okay by yourself for a little bit?”

“Yeah– sure!” you nodded, “Go have fun!”

With a sorry smile and a promise to be right back, Deborah left you at the bar, dragged out on the dancefloor by Tommy.

Left to your own devices, you still felt a little awkward. This was supposed to be a girls night. Pushing off the bar, you turned to lean your back against it. You bopped your head to the music, trying to not look so out of place. In your hands, your drink was slippery from the condensation around the glass. Out on the dancefloor, the crowd looked like it moved in slow motion through the blinking lights, bodies twisting their hips and grooving to the beat. You took another sip.

It’s a strange feeling, feeling so alone, while surrounded by a crowd of people. To your, a couple gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they passed a cigarette back and forth, a ribbon of smoky white, clouded them in a love fog. They leaned closer, sharing a kiss. You quickly averted your eyes, desperate for something else to rest your eyes on.

Instead, they fell on a man.

You locked eyes with him from across the room. Clad in tight denim he sat casually in a booth in the corner, legs spread slightly. His hand was wrapped around a whisky glass, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. With a shy smile, you quickly looked away again, eyes back to watching the bodies on the dancefloor. You took another sip of your drink, trying to act casual.

He wasn’t watching you, was he? Why would he? No one usually looked at you twice.

You were no good at this. Flirting. You were painfully awful at it to be completely honest. Too shy to be sexy, and never interesting enough, or pretty enough for a second date.

Your experience with dating didn’t really go further than the few dates you’d gone on with John, from accounting. He’d acted so sweet: opened doors for you, held out your chair, kissed you at your doorstep at the end of the night. He had been a dream. Then on your third date, he’d invited you back to his place for a nightcap. One thing led to another, and soon you were laying under him as he thrusted inside you. It was your first time – and he hadn’t known. It had hurt so much; you’d turned your face away so he wouldn’t see your tears. After, he’d called you a cab, not bothering to even kiss you goodbye. In the office the next day, he’d pretended like you’d never even existed: no more tender kisses, no more door opening, no more smiles. Your dream had turned into a nightmare.

He’d pulled you aside during lunch and told you it wouldn’t work out between the two of you. You were just such different people. You’d deflated like a balloon at his words, sinking into your chair as you watched him walk down the corridor back to his cubicle. To make matters worse you’d overheard him say, to some of his colleges by the watercooler, how awful in bed you’d been. It had been humiliating. And now, every time you as much as attempted to flirt with someone, a bell of shame rang in your ears.

The man couldn’t have looked at you. He’d for sure only looked in the direction of the bar. But something burned your cheek, and you couldn’t fight your eyes from trailing back in his direction.

Dark hair and a tidy mustache. Lips pulled up into a cheeky smile as you locked eyes with him again. He took a drag of his cigarette, and the fire lit up his handsome face. You felt something pool in your stomach. His gaze still on you as he exhaled, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. Again, your cheeks burned, and you had to look away. Suddenly, your own platform shoes looked extremely interesting.

“I remember when rock was young, me and Susie had so much fun,”

The sound of Elton John was the perfect distraction from the alluring stranger. You were sure that if you looked back at him again, you’d only embarrass yourself. You always did. Slurping up the rest of your drink, you pushed off the bar, and headed towards the dancefloor.

“Holding hands and skimming stones. Had an old gold Chevy, and a place of my own,”

Moving your hips to the beat you vanished in the bodies. And soon you were “hopping and bopping” to the Crocodile Rock, singing loudly along with the crowd to “Laa, la-la-la-la-laa”.

The air was clammy and stuffy, and sweat clung to your skin, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You were here to leave your shitty day behind. To dance it away. You moved through the crowd; a smile bright on your face while your feet couldn’t stay still. The handsome stranger in the booth, already forgotten.

As the song faded out, a new song faded in. It was slower. A slightly erotic, but melodic guitar filled the room, accompanied by a luring salsa rhythm. You slowed down your dancing. It felt like you were threading through water.

“Ain't got nobody that I can depend on. Ain't got nobody that I can depend on,”

A pair of hands landed on your hips, making you jump. Behind you, you heard the deep chuckle of a man.

“Relax, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, moving your hips in time with his.

You leaned back against his body; head tipped back against his broad chest to get a look at the man. Your stranger from the booth. He wore a cocky smirk, but he didn’t come across as full of himself. He was confident. Confident in the way he held your body – big hands splayed over your hips. Confident in the way he danced, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he did.

“Ain't got no one (no tengo a nadie). That I know of (no tengo a nadie). That I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

You let him move your body, turning you around to take your hand in his, pulling you closer to his chest. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne. He’d been watching you, you realized, not the bar. Interested enough in you to follow you out on the dancefloor. It intimidated you, but under the intimidation it also excited you.

He led your movements. You were no dancer, but he made it so easy, spinning you around with ease before pulling you back towards his body. The eye contact was intense, like he was searching for your soul. Santana’s wailing guitar and the stranger’s hand at your waist was the only thing grounding you to the moment.

“I ain't got nobody, that I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

The song reached its climactic end. The man spun you one last time before he pulled you tight against his chest. It was like the song’s ending had broken a spell over the two of you, the air of sensuality was gone, and replaced by his genuine smile and breathy laugh.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked you over the funky bassline of Eagles’ One of These Nights.

Wide-eyed, “Please,” was the only thing you could utter.

With a hand resting at the small of your back he led you through the crowd towards the bar, where he got the bartender’s attention immediately. 

“An Old Fashioned for me Doug, and…” he looked towards you with a smile.

“Um… a Tequila Sunrise?” you said with a shy smile.

“A Tequila Sunrise, for this beautiful lady,” he told the bartender.

Grabbing one of the bar stools he sat down and gestured for you to do the same. You’d just about sat down before he leaned forward, grabbed a hold of your stool, and pulled you closer to him. A squeal escaped you before it turned into a giddy laugh.

“Thank you, Doug!” he told the bartender when he returned with your drinks.

“On a first name basis with the bartender– you here often?” you asked him, taking a sip of your drink.

“Not as often as I’d liked– it’s my lil’ brother’s club,” he told you, taking a sip of his own drink.

“You’re Tommy’s brother?” you wondered with a frown, a little shocked.

“You know Tommy?” he asked, equally shocked.

You shrugged, “Yes– well… not really.”

He took another sip of his drink, eyes urging you to go on.

“I met him earlier– he’s… well,” you didn’t know how to explain it, “I’m here with my friend Deborah, and I guess her and Tommy are…” you trailed off.

“Fuckin’?” he finished for you, grin wide on his face.

You only nodded, swallowing down another sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about Deborah…” he trailed off with a look on his face like he knew a secret, “… but nothing about her beautiful friend.”

You huffed out a laugh and turned your head, heat traveling up your neck to your cheeks, “I’m not sure there’s much to know.”

“How about your name?” he suggested.

You turned back to look at him, really look at him.

Had Deborah set him up for this?

You wouldn’t put it past her if she had. She was always urging you to go out with her. To clubs, to parties in The Hills, on double dates. You wanted to go, you really did, but a voice in the back of your head always held you back. You’d thought moving to LA would be the remedy. All alone in a big city would surely help you come out of your shell, right? The harsh reality had been that LA hadn’t magically fixed you. You’d thought you’d be a completely different person here, but you’d packed your insecurities in your baggage. The only person who was gonna help you out of your shell, you’d started to realize… was you.

Putting on a brave face, disguised as a friendly smile, you gave him your name. The man was silent for a moment, nodding as he brought his lips to the rim of his glass again, taking another sip of his drink. It made you hold your breath.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said eventually with an easy grin. His compliment sent a warmth to your cheeks, while you fought an urge to squinch your face with embarrassment.

After a second of silence, you raised a brave eyebrow at him, “What about your name? Or shall I just call you Tommy’s brother?”

He chuckled lightly, eyes glinting, before he cleared his throat, “Name’s Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeated with a nod, making his cocky smile wider. Tasting his name on your tongue, you decided it sounded pleasant on your lips.

“So– you’re Deb’s friend?” Joel started, to which you confirmed with a nod. “How come she’s never brought you ‘round before?” he wondered with a sip of his drink.

You gave him a relaxed shrug, “I’m not much of a drinker– if I’m honest.”

He leaned forward, like he was about to whisper a secret to you, “You are aware of the fact that you’re in a club, aren’t you?” he teased.

Your mouth dropped open before you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Shut up,” you said, “I’m not usually much of a drinker… at least not without good reason.”

“So, what’s the good reason?” Joel asked, raising a single eyebrow, “Boyfriend dumped ya?”

“Boss dumped me, actually…” you corrected, “I got fired.”

Joel sucked some air between his teeth, “Ouch… you better get another drink, then.” He turned his body towards the bar to casually raise a hand, getting the attention of Doug.

You let out a scoffing laugh, shaking your head at his teasing tone, “Maybe I will.”

As you finish your Tequila Sunrise, Joel ordered you another one, and one for himself. You felt hot to the touch. The alcohol coursed through your body like liquid courage, it traveled through your bloodstream, greasing the part of yourself where your confidence laid dormant.

“What did you work as?” he asked, sipping his own Tequila Sunrise.

“I am–was…” you corrected, “a personal assistant.”

“A good one?” Joel wondered.

Taking a large sip of your drink, you tried to swallow down your failure.

“You’d have to ask my boss,” you breathed out.

“The one that fired ya?” he returned with a cocky smile, and you fought an urge to roll your eyes.

Sitting up a little straighter you narrowed your eyes at him, “What do you do, then? If you’re so good at your job?”

“Never said I was good at it,” he shrugged, cocky grin not going anywhere.

“You gonna make me ask you again?” you deadpanned, your shyness shedding with every sip of your drink.

Joel looked amused, like he was in on a secret only he knew. You continued to stare at him, raising a challenging eyebrow at his continued silence.

“I’m an actor,” he confessed.

You couldn’t hide the impressed look that crossed your face. Sure, you’d been in LA for three years, he wasn’t the first actor you’d met, and he for sure wouldn’t be the last, but it was something about the way he said it.

“A good one?” you used his own words against him, making him chuckle.

He took another sip of his drink, “I’d like to think so,” he smiled, looking at you over the rim of his glass.

“Anything I’d know?” you wondered, watching him put his glass down.

The corners of his mouth twitched into what looked like an ironic smirk, “God, I kinda of hope not,” he said, eyes trailing the scratches and dents in the dark wood of the bar.

You both went quiet, as you sipped your drinks. You’d started to wonder if you’d maybe said something wrong, when Joel cleared his throat.

“Not to mix business with pleasure–” he started, turning towards you, mouth twitching again at the innuendo, “but I happen to be looking for an assistant.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, convinced he was pulling your leg.

“You don’t believe me?” he breathed out a chuckle.

“Let’s see: a strange man dances with me in a club,” you held up a finger, “then buys me a drink, then offers me a job? I may not be from around here, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that one.” You laughed with a shake of your head.

As you laughed, it hit you how easily you found it to jest with Joel. Usually, you were the quiet one. The one observing or just listening, always too shy to joke freely, especially with people you didn’t know, but somehow, in this moment you felt free. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was getting fired. Or maybe… it was Joel.

“Well, believe it or not, I ain’t fibbin’… it really depends on how much you need a job,” he took another sip of his drink.

“I just got fired,” you said matter of factly.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly innocent shrug, “Then you better start believing me when I say I’m looking for an assistant.”

You couldn’t do anything other than scoff in disbelief. “So what?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “You’re just gonna offer me a job after knowing me for barely an hour? No interview or nothing?”

“Do I need to be interviewin’ ya?” he wondered innocently.

“It’s a job!” you spluttered, “You always interview people before you give them a job!”

He gave you a nonchalant shrug. “Then I guess I will… so what can you tell me about yourself? What makes you a good assistant?” he asked, tone genuine as he placed an elbow on the bar counter and rested his head in his hand.

“I don’t mean now!” you let out in a nervous squeak, and Joel seemed to enjoy the way you shifted nervously in your seat.

He shrugged, “Alright then… you got time for coffee? Say… tomorrow mornin’?”

Ten to ten the next morning you met Joel for coffee.

Wanting to give him a good and professional impression – he could be your new employer after all ­­– you’d worn your brown three pieced suit with a purple paisley shirt under your suit vest. It made you feel strong– well usually, right now you couldn’t seem to shake the pre-interview nerves… Anyway, you were hoping your outfit would make Joel think you had your shit together – at least put together enough for him to hire you.

With eyes scanning the café, you found him at a table by the window, smoking a cigarette. When you approached him, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, he checked his watch.

“Ten minutes early!” he remarked with a grin.

“Reliability and punctuality are good qualities in a new employee, I’ve heard.” You shot him a shy smile before you placed your bag on the floor by your chair.

He hummed, watching you with an easy smile as you sat down opposite him while shedding your jacket. The white smoke danced in front of his face like coiling ribbons. Clad in a striped polo with a Johnny collar he’d tucked into a pair of Levi’s jeans, he relaxed in his chair, shifting slightly, and spreading his legs wider. The movement, like a reflex, drew your eyes to his lower half. His Levi’s were tight, held in place by a big western belt buckle, but it wasn’t his belt buckle that caught your attention.

“So…” he started. His voice startled you, and you flicked your eyes back to his face. His playful smile told you he’s caught you checking him out. Embarrassed, you looked past him, not daring to make eye contact as you fought the urge to cringe.

“How are ya?” he took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth.

“I’m–I’m good thank you,” you gave him a nervous smile, the confidence from last night gone with the rise of the sun, “how are you?”

“I’m good too, sweetheart,” he nodded, “wanna have this interview…? Or should I just tell you now you’re hired?”

Perplexed, your eyebrows met in a furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Honey, I already decided last night I’d hire you,” he grinned with another drag of his cigarette.

“I–… I mean are you sure?” you stuttered, “I brought my resume and references and everything– don’t you want to take a look at them?” you wondered, a hand dropping to your bag to fish out your newly typed resume and references. You tapped the papers against the table before placing them neatly in front of him.

Retracting your hands, you rested them in your lap, while you watched him. He placed his cigarette in his mouth before he picked up your resume. His eyes scanned the paper, his head nodding slightly.

“Graduated high school in 1970… A year as a cashier at Piggly Wiggly…” he started listing, his cigarette dipping with each word, “A year at Greasy Motors?”.

“Um– yes!” you peeped, “It’s my uncle’s garage shop– I worked as their secretary,” you told him, picking at the skin around your nails.

“You any good with cars?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he took one last drag of his cigarette.

“No–No not really… I just spoke to the customers, answered the phone and stuff like that.”

You’d wanted to learn some of the basics, but you’d quickly given up. None of the guys had taken you seriously, and they had made sure to let you know where your place was – it was not with your hands deep in an engine.

Joel hummed at your answer and stubbed out his cigarette. “And Mr. Cooper’s the one that fired ya?” he asked.

You gave him a short nod. Your pointer finger burned with pain as you pulled at a piece of skin you’d picked loose around your nail.

“Why?”,

“The honest answer?” you sighed, and he nodded.

“I don’t know,” you told him, “he just called me into his office at the end of the day and told me he was gonna have to let me go– I was honestly too shocked to ask him why.”

“Oof,” Joel frowned.

“Yeah,” you sighed, you didn’t know what else to say.

“Well… you’ve given me a great impression, both last night and right now, so you’ve got the job, sweetheart– if you want it.” He leaned back in his chair, letting your resume fall from his hands.

“It can’t be that easy, can it?” the words fell from your lips before you had time to think. Joel raised a curious eyebrow at you. “I mean what’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.”

He seemed to think about it for a beat, “Unless there is…” Joel’s lips tugged at the corners as he leaned over the table, “Remember I said I was an actor?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

You gave him a skeptical nod.

“I’m an adult actor…” he lowered his voice, “You understand?” he asked before he leaned back in his seat again.

An adult actor. Your eyes widened with realization.

“Wait… you mean,” you looked around you before you leaned forward over the table like he’d just done, “you’re a pornstar?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.

“Is that a problem for you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Was it? Was it a problem for you?

The question tugged at the back of your neck. Tugged on your childhood, on your upbringing. You’d escaped; had your own apartment now, made your own money. You were trying to come into your own, to finally be your own person.

With teeth digging into your bottom lip, you looked at Joel. He watched you expectantly, head tipping slightly to the right as he studied you. There was no malice in his eyes, and nothing about him seemed grimy or obscene… Nothing about him screamed pornstar. If someone like him could do something so… unusual, for a job, maybe wasn’t so bad.

“No,” you decided, “it’s not a problem.”

“Groovy!” he grinned, “I’ll have my manager draw up a contract for you.”

And just like that you were officially Joel Miller’s, aka the infamous Joel Packer, personal assistant.

Joel sat on the tiled steps outside his house, smoking a cigarette, when you pulled up to the curb. He perked up when he saw you, grabbing his worn leather duffel bag before he waltzed down his driveway.

“Cab for Miller?” you joked through the rolled down window, ducking your head to peek up at him.

He chuckled at your joke, pinching his cigarette between two fingers for one last drag, before putting it out with a twist of his shoe. The smog laid low over LA this morning, like a blanket. It was gonna be a long day, and a long drive.

Letting out a small grunt, Joel got in your car. The smell of cigarettes and cologne – the smell of him – filled the space between you. He twisted around tossing his duffel bag into the backseat, and your eyes couldn’t help but land on his bicep, watching the way his muscles flexed under the weight. You felt a sudden urge to roll down the window a little further.

When he turned back around, the smooth wood of your steering wheel looked extremely interesting.

“Thanks for drivin’, sweetheart. My car’s still in the shop for ‘nother few days.”

The corner of your mouth twisted into a small smile, “No problem, Joel.”

“Are we all set?” he breathed out his question before his hands landed on his thighs with a dull smack!

“Um, yes, it’s just…” you turned to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Steely Dan concert tee – All-American Tour ’74 – with his yellow tinted pilot sunglasses tucked into his neckline.

“Just what, sweetheart?”,

“I picked up a package for you– it’s in the backseat,” you cocked your head in the direction.

“What is it?” he twisted back around, one hand searching for the cardboard box behind his seat.

Even in the smoldering LA heat, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up. “Um… it’s your package.”

“Yeah, I got that, honey– but what is it?” he asked again, twisting his hand back and placing the cardboard box in his lap.

You let out a small whine, “Don’t make me say it Joel– it’s your package.” You gestured a hand over your nether region.

Joel looked at you with a mischievous smile spreading across his face, “Oh, now I really wanna hear you say it,” he teased, hooking his finger under the tape.

“It’syourdick,” you said quickly, “–the dildo.”

In another step towards furthering Joel Packer’s success, he’d been asked to model for a sextoy. It’s no surprise he’d been asked. With the women’s liberation movement gaining more and more followers every day, more women had been exploring their own sexuality. Joel was popular with both men and women. He was like a chameleon when it came to porn. He knew just what to give, whether that would be hardcore porn, tossing his scene partners around and making them come until they couldn’t anymore; or doing full frontal nudity for a centerfold for Playgirl. 

With a drag of the tape, Joel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe you’re still shy about that stuff, sweetheart. You’ve been workin’ for me for how long now, huh? And you still can’t say dick to my face– what do you say to my business partners? Wiener?”

“I’m not shy,” you denied rather unconvincingly, making him shoot you an unimpressed look making you flutter. “I don’t know… it’s just different saying it to you!”

“Why?” he asked, pulling out the box with the dildo he’d modeled for.

Your eyes followed his hands, running over the pink packaging, the handsome photo they’d used of him on the front.

“I-I don’t know… it just is.”

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he hummed – not convinced. Instead, he opened the box, pulling out the sextoy. The company had sent him one before they’d hit the shelves at the end of the month. They were being advertised in Playgirl first – to build up the hype. The sextoy looked exactly like him, and at the same time, nothing like him. The size and shape were true to life (8 inches like they’d advertised on the box), but the color was wrong.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” he laughed, turning it in his hand, “’s this what I look like?”

“The color looks wrong,” you pointed out. He looked over at you for a beat and then back to the sextoy.

“’s a little… plastic-y,” he commented, “and weird lookin’ without the balls…”

He put the dildo back in the box before he handed it to you. You shook your head and turned the car key, “Just put it back in the backseat.”

“No, ‘s not what I meant,” he nudged your arm with the box, “you have it.”

You were glad the car stood still because the shock of his words would’ve made you get in a car accident.

“Why?” you said, a little flustered.

“Exactly what do women do with a dildo, I wonder?” he teased, nudging your arm again.

“No, Joel, that’s just weird– you’re my boss.” You nudged him back before you put the car in drive.

“You prefer the real thing, then?” a teasing lilt still wrapped around his words.

“Shut up,” you huffed, focusing on driving instead.

“I’m just messin’, sweetheart!” he laughed and threw the box messily behind him.

Leaning forward, Joel pushed the play button on your car radio. The cassette deck whirled before a twangy sound of piano filled your car as you started cruising down the road. A few seconds later Joni Mitchell sang the opening lines of the title track ‘Court and Spark’.

“I need you in charge of the map,” you broke the silence between you after a few minutes, “I don’t know where the house is.”

He opened your glove compartment, pulling out your map of California. You focused on the road while he studied the map.

“Looks like we need to get on the 101– it should take about three hours, Ronald said.”

You hummed. Ronald was Joel’s manager. He’d represented Joel for as long as Joel’s been in porn. Ronald was sleazy, and gross, and you tried to only be in his presence when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, for you, Ronald was a good manager, and the reason why Joel Packer was as popular a pornstar as he was.

“When we get to Pismo Beach we’ll just stop and ask around for the address.” Joel said, folding the map.

Usually, Ronald was the one who came along to set with Joel. His reasoning being that there was business to attend to, and that he was supportive of his client, but you knew the real (pervy) reason. You on the other hand had only come along to set a few times. Quick to embarrassment, you’d quickly hid yourself away in Joel’s dressing room, claiming you had work you’d neglected to do.

This time, Ronald couldn’t make it because of scheduling conflicts. Joel was gonna go alone, but then his car had broken down on the 405. He needed a ride, and who else to ask other than the person he paid to help him out. The shoot was taking place at a beach house somewhere in Pismo Beach. You’d never been to Pismo Beach before, and neither had Joel. The booking agent had told you it was nice enough and secluded. Perfect for shooting a porno without bringing too much attention. 

Three hours later, you and Joel arrived at the shoot. The beach house was busy and filled with people working like ants to get the film set ready. The shoot was scheduled to last for one day, and as the time flew past 10am, you were starting to get short on time.

As soon as you stepped inside, they ushered Joel straight to make-up and wardrobe. Careful not to be in anybody’s way, you took a look around the house. It was beautiful. Newly built, not more than ten years old you guessed, and right on the beach. Warm wood tones lined the walls and floors, and on the ceilings, sturdy beams met in the middle. A leather couch with matching chairs was turned towards the big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and a cowhide rug decorated the floor. They’d set up a step ladder by the windows, all ready for the first scene.

You found Joel a moment later in one of the bedrooms sitting, in a chair as he got his make-up done. You noticed he’d already changed into his costume. A pair of overalls with nothing underneath, and a toolbelt hanging from his hips.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, his eyes trailing your body.

“Hi,” you smiled, “How you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

He looked at you, a pregnant pause passing between the two of you, “No, not right now.”

“Oh, okay!” you nodded, teeth catching your bottom lip, “Just let me know if there’s anything.”

You moved over to the bed where his clothes were spewed across the bedding. Trying to make yourself useful, you picked them up to fold them.

“D’you know if Tess is ready?” you heard him ask.

Tess was Joel’s scene partner for the day, and also his most frequent scene partner. They’d been in more films together over the past years than you could count, their chemistry always electric. Everything they did was just hot, and this time would be no exception. Tess was playing a neglected housewife all alone in her big beach house until carpenter Joel arrived to help her feel less alone with his tool(s).

“Um, no… I haven’t seen her at all– but I can go find out if you want?” you said, placing his folded t-shirt neatly on the bed.

“No, bless your heart, it’s okay,” he spoke slowly, watching the make-up artist pack up her things before telling him he’s all set.

Left alone with Joel he spoke again, “You gonna watch today?”

His question kicked your heart into gear, stuttering along like a teenager who can’t drive stick. “I-I don’t know yet,” you folded his jeans, “… do you want me to?”

You felt him move closer, but he didn’t answer you. Gathering your courage, you met his eyes. He was watching you with a soft look in his eye, a look he’d sent you more and more often lately.

Grabbing your wrist, his calloused fingers like a warm bracelet, he took his jeans from your hand and placed them down next to his t-shirt.

“I’d like that.”

He said it with a smile, and you couldn’t do anything other than nod.

Joel had started to make you feel lots of things lately. Warm fuzzy feelings bubbled under your skin, just like the warmth from his hand on your wrist right now. Joel was a flirt, cocky and confident. Your complete opposite. You weren’t as shy as you’d been at the start of your job, but you couldn’t help but still be shy around Joel sometimes. Especially when he smiled at you the way he was right now, or when you felt his touch on your body.

The first scene they shot was the intro. A cheesy scene where Joel got invited into Tess the housewife’s home. One too many innuendos about ‘tools’ later, you’d slipped away before lunch time to find the catering table, fixing up a plate for Joel and one for yourself. After lunch, the fun began as the director had said. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” Joel’s fingers brushed over the back of your arm, getting your attention. You were about to go sit in his director’s chair, to watch as you’d promised.

“Yeah, Joel?” you looked at him through your lashes, your face curious. You tried very hard to keep them on his face, and not to let them wander to the outline of his hard cock through his overalls.

“Could you go get me some lube?” he asked you, eyes pleading.

“Oh! Um–” you nervously perked up, “Yes, of course,” you nodded, turning around yourself on the spot like you were already on the lookout.

“Thanks!” His hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to focus back on him, fingers rubbed over the material of your shirt. He was smiling at you, a small glint in his eye as he took you in. It made something inside you flutter, your eyes eclipsing over.

“OK guys! Quiet on set!” the director called, pulling you and Joel from your moment. His hand fell from your shoulder, a sorry smile draped across his face.

Slipping away, you went on a hunt for lube. When you came back you were met with the deep grunts of Joel as he got his cock sucked. He was fully naked, standing at the edge of the bed with Tess naked and dutifully on her knees for him – pleasuring him to heaven by the looks of it.

“There you go, baby,” he praised Tess, his big hand entangled in her hair as he pushed himself deeper down her throat. “You like sucking cock, don’t you? Like cheating on your husband like the dirty fuckin’ whore you are, huh?”

You knew he was just reading off his lines, but he said them like he hadn’t practiced at all, it was all so natural. Stumbling backwards towards his director’s chair, you sat down. You felt drawn to the scene before you, caught up in the moment, in the sounds of Joel’s moans and Tess’ spluttering around his cock. Never had you allowed yourself to watch him this openly before – it sent an electric pulse to your core.

Tess gave him head for a few minutes more, filth and praises fell from Joel’s mouth as the cameraman dutifully got every angle. Mesmerized by the scene playing out before you, a small pit started to form in your stomach – a mixture of pleasure and… jealousy. You shifted in the chair at the thought of you on your knees for him instead, pleasuring him and pulling those moans from his lips. Wondering if the praising words he told Tess, would sound different if it was you he told them to instead. You didn’t realize how caught up in the sight in front of you until you heard someone call your name.

It was Joel.

Shaking yourself from your fantasy daydreaming, you pulled yourself together. They’d changed positions while the cameraman changed the film. Joel was now sat on his knees on the bed with his cock standing to attention. On her back, he had Tess’ legs parted and splayed open in front of him.

Why was he talking to you?

He called your name again, figuring you hadn’t heard him over the humming of conversation now filling up the set. You hopped off the chair and nervously scurried over to him.

“What’s up?” you whispered. Your eyes were glued to his face, not daring to glide them even an inch downwards.

He hooked his fingers around your thumb. On his face he was wearing the widest grin, “Could you grab me some water?”

His touch sent your brain into overdrive, your eyes blinking around his question, “Y-yes– I’ll be right back.” His touch fell, and you scurried away to find him some water before they started filming again.

Back, and with a bottle of water in your hand you allowed yourself one quick look at his naked body. His broad chest, the way his muscles moved underneath his tan skin. Your eyes raked over his body, down his stomach, trailing the happy trial down to his impressive cock.

“Okay, everybody– we’re all set!” The loud voice of the director made you jump. Joel handed back the bottled water, a rough hand wiping the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

If he’d clocked you checking him out, he didn’t show it. Instead, he got ready while you made your way back to his director’s chair. Tess said something you couldn’t quite catch, but it got his attention. He grinned from ear to ear, a quick look in your direction, before he playfully shook his head at her.

The next scene had you squirming in your seat.

With his head between her legs, Joel used both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her – and Tess was clearly enjoying herself. Her hands were digging into his hair, pushing him greedily down onto her pussy. High pitched, pornographic moans and whimpers escaped her. Joel was clearly enjoying himself too, moaning and groaning into her pussy as he ate her out greedily, making sure to pull every ounce of pleasure from her.

Tess came with a cry, withering breathlessly as she squirmed in Joel’s hold. He held her shaking legs in a tight grip, not letting up his licking and sucking until he’d pulled another orgasm from her. With a breathless laugh she pushed him away, big wide smile spreading as he peppered kisses to the inside of her thigh. You shifted slightly in your seat. An unmistakable wetness had gathered in your panties. You crossed your leg over the other, subtly.

With a tap to her thigh Joel encouraged Tess to turn over. He sat up, resting back on his heels as he stroked his cock languidly. Tess moved onto all fours, arching her back and putting herself on display for him. The camera moved in closer, a watchful eye, as Joel ran a finger through her folds.

“So wet for me, baby,” he said, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. “This pussy’s been neglected, hasn’t it? ‘s just dying to be fucked.”

He thrusted inside her, burying himself in her pussy, moans and groans falling from both their lips. You felt the air stand still for a beat, before he pulled back and thrusted back inside. They quickly built up a rhythm, skin slap slap slapping, as their moans held the tune. They moved in sync. Joel kept up the pace, hands holding her waist firmly, while Tess met them with a breathy moan. When she gripped the sheets in pleasure, you wondered if it really felt as good as she let on, or if it was all just part of the show.

“Face the camera,” the director interrupted suddenly. He wanted a close up of Tess getting fucked.

Joel slipped out of her, the bright lights catching on his glistening cock. The sight of Tess’ arousal reminded you, and the bottle of lube in your lap, about your insignificancy. Joel quickly slipped back inside Tess, a hand gripping her shoulder as he picked up the pace again.

“Just like that, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You felt silly, the reality of what you’d just done settling in. Why on earth would you agree to watch Joel? Pornstar or not, he’s still your boss. Your longing for him to be something else, would never erase that fact.

Disappointment was a heavy rope tying you down. You needed to get out of there before you hurt your own feelings. Sliding out of the chair, you left the bottle of lube. Straightening out your suede skirt, let out a quiet sigh. You didn’t want to look at him, but something drew you to him either way.

You locked eyes immediately, his eyes were dark and intense. He picked up the pace, Tess almost screaming with pleasure underneath him, but his eyes still didn’t leave yours. You couldn’t look away. The world narrowed until the only thing you could see was him.

With a grunt and a firm thrust, Joel came inside her, mouth parted in pleasure and eyes never leaving yours.

Squeezed into a flimsy plastic chair, feet planted steadily in front of him, Joel sat smoking a cigarette by the pool. Ripples of blue swam across his face, before giving way to the soft warmth of the burning cigarette. He looked deep in thought as you got out of your car, a plastic bag of take-out swinging from your hand. You slammed the door shut, jolting Joel from his thoughts. The evening wind softly kissed your bare arms as you walked across the parking lot to the fenced in pool area.

The shoot had run long and by the time it was over, it was late. Joel was tired, and when he’d suggested you stay at a motel for the night, you’d been quick to agree. Watching the darkening sky, you’d started to dread the three-hour drive back to LA – you’d rather wait for daylight.

Situated right off the main road Joel had spotted a Motel 6 with the neon ‘Vacancy’ light humming. With tired steps you’d walked together towards the lobby, and the lady at the desk didn’t look up from her magazine when you and Joel approached. Behind her, coming through the door to the back office, you heard a laugh track.

Joel turned on his southern charm, “’Scuse me, ma’am.”

The receptionist still didn’t look up from her magazine.

“Do y’all have two rooms vacant?”

With a sigh, the woman looked up at him, peering over her glasses. “We only have one Queen left.” She smacked her lips together obnoxiously as she spoke, a piece of gum visible in her teeth.

Joel looked over at you, one eyebrow raised. Crossing your arms over your chest, you didn’t know what to say. If they only had one room, they only had one room. You tapped your foot restlessly, made a face like you were thinking it over before you gave Joel a short but affirmative nod. He watched you for another beat, before he turned back around to say, “We’ll take it.”

The room was nothing much; a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, two chairs and a table tucked into one corner, and a door leading to a small bathroom. First thing Joel did was find a place to put his bag. You didn’t have a bag, only your handbag, you hadn’t planned on not sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel, on the other hand, always brought a change of clothes to set. He’d told you once he didn’t like to leave in the same clothes he’d arrived in.

As you closed in on Joel by the pool you realized he was still wearing his clothes from this morning. He’d told you he wanted to shower, so you’d gone out to get you both some dinner to give him some privacy. Now you wondered if he’d even had his shower.

“Hungry?” you asked, putting the plastic bag down on the round table beside him.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching you through a cheeky smile, “Starvin’.”

“The only thing open was the roadside diner, so I’m afraid it’s greasy burgers.” 

Joel gave you a shrug as you sat down, “Works for me.”

You ate in silence – sloshing coming from the pool and the cicadas hiding in the bushes, filled the air instead. When Joel finished his burger, and started on his fries, he looked up at you.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked you. You were silent for a second, before you looked down at the burger in your hand.

“Er...” you hesitated, not sure what he wanted you to say, “It’s not bad... meat’s a little dry, but–”

Joel interrupted your train of thought with a deep chuckle.

“I meant the porno, darlin’,” he said, using one of the napkins to wipe the corners of his mouth, “not the burger.” A smile pulled at his lips.

“Oh,” you said, and felt your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You swallowed, buying yourself some time before you gave him a shrug.

“Was good,” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I’m sure your fans will love it!”

“I wasn’t askin’ about them,” Joel said. His gaze felt like it was piercing through you, “Was askin’ you, wasn’t I? Did you like it?”

Despite the desperate embarrassment firing through your veins, you raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me about porn over dinner?”

“Fair point,” he said with a nod, “You’re deflecting, though.”

A small chuckle escaped you, a smile tugging on the corner of your mouth as you shook your head and looked away for a second.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked him, looking back at him, “It’s porn, I’m human... of course I liked it.”

Bingo.

You can see from the corners of Joel’s smile that he’s happy with that answer, and he lets out an agreeing hum.

“See?” he said, his tone teasing, “Was that so hard to admit?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said through a small scoff, pushing your styrofoam container away from you as you fell back in your chair.

“I am–… what was your favorite part?”

He was grinning hard now. He dug a hand in his back pocket, fishing out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter. You watched him with your head tilted, waiting for him to let you off the hook like he usually did. Instead, he grinned even wider, small splutters of breathy giggles making the cigarette dip as he tried to light it.

“Gimmie that!” you commanded, reaching out your hand for his cigarette. With a surprised eyebrow he took a quick drag before he handed it over. He watched you quietly as you took a breath. Savoring the first tar-y breath filling up your lungs.

“I liked the way you…” you took another drag and exhaled through your nose, “I don’t know…” you handed him the cigarette.

“I’m waitin’,” he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I liked the way you’re so attentive and made sure she’s feeling good even though it’s acting and everything… Even when you’re like throwing her around, all in charge and stuff.” You waved away the words.

“Yeah, well, that is the most important part of sex,” he gave you a look. Suddenly, he was a little serious. “It’s not fun if she’s not havin’ fun.”

“Not every guy thinks like that, you know,” you spoke, “it’s really nice that you do.”

Joel hummed at your words before a comfortable silence fell over you. You listened to the buzzing cicadas and the burning of Joel’s cigarette every time he took a drag.

“And… the dirty talk was hot too– you’re good at that,” you mused after a moment, breaking the silence, feeling comfortable enough with Joel to tell him the truth. He doesn’t judge you about what you think was sexy, and you realized it felt nice to open up to somebody, to let your suffocating shame die.

“Now, darlin’,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “now you’re just strokin’ my ego.”

“I can stroke more than your ego.”

Joel choked on his cigarette, coughing around the smoke before he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Am I goin’ crazy, or did you just tell a dirty joke?”

Your giggle filled the air between you before you leaned forward for his cigarette again. You brought it to your mouth as you impishly shrugged. Inside, you buzzed with a fluttery feeling. 

You smiled at him. “I don’t know– you tell me.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you, leaning over the table to get a good look at you, “I’m not sure I’m likin’ this… where’s my sweet girl, huh?”

My sweet girl.

Your heart skipped like stones over water, and you had to look away. A smile blooming across your face. You heard him let out a sweet chuckle before he stood from his chair. The plastic feet scraping ever so slightly against the concrete. You watched him as he stepped before you, squatting down to be at eye level with you, his big hand landing on your exposed knee to steady himself.

“She’s still here,” you whispered after a moment. The cigarette between your fingers was burning out, but your whole body felt like it was on fire, a burning spreading from under his touch.

“I know she is, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his fingers rubbing gently over your skin. Joel looked at you with attentive eyes, “I love how shy you get for me.”

Before you had time to process his words, he pinched the cigarette from your fingers and stood to his feet. “Let’s call it a night?” he asked you, offering up his hand for you to take.

Feeling brave, you took his hand. It dwarfed your own, but it was strong, and warm in your hold. You watched as Joel finished off the cigarette, and stumped it out in the ashtray on the table, before gathering up your trash. You walked back to your room, hands intertwined and swinging between you. You couldn’t shake the thought of how you wished he’d kissed you.

Back inside your room he let you use the bathroom first. It was small, and the air was damp. You could see droplets of water clinging to the shower curtain. Joel did shower after all, he’d rinsed the day off into the drain. With no toiletries, you made do with what the motel offered. A bar of soap was sufficient enough to remove your make-up, but you knew your skin would punish you for it later. After brushing your teeth, you stepped back out where Joel waited for you on the bed.

“I’ve got a spare shirt if you wanna borrow it.” He held up his hand, handing you the clean cotton shirt he’d packed.

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly.

He watched you for a beat, his eyes soft, but tired. “And I’ll sleep in one of the chairs– don’t want ya worryin’ about nothin’.”

Shaking your head, you protested, “No, Joel, you’ve had a long day! I’ll sleep in the chair!”

This time he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, “No, darlin’, you’re drivin’ tomorrow, remember? You’ll need your rest.”

Your eyebrows met in a furrow. He was right; you couldn’t do the drive back to LA tomorrow on no sleep, but you couldn’t live with yourself if he didn’t get any sleep either.

“Let’s just…” you trailed off, “You’re tired, I’m tired– let’s both sleep in the bed?” you suggested.

Crawling under the sheets clad in only your underwear and Joel’s t-shirt, you wondered if you were being unprofessional. This was technically a work trip. Joel was still your boss. You looked over at him where he sat on the edge with his back turned, fiddling with the alarm clock. Your eyes trailed over his bare back, tan and strong. You knew you could stare at him all night.

It was official: you’d left professional at the door.

Finally, the alarm clock set for tomorrow morning, Joel put it back on the nightstand. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught your eyes on his body. It made him smile.

“Joel? Can I ask you something?”

He got under the sheets, his foot grazing against yours as he got comfortable. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Can you turn off the light?”

“You needn’t ask me if you can ask me, to turn off the light,” he laughed, “you can just say ‘Joel, turn off the light’.”

You scrunched your face together. This was coming out all wrong. “No, I mean… I don’t think I can ask you my question with the lights still on.”

He looked you over with a warm smile before he leaned over and turned off the light on his nightstand. “There… what you want to ask me?”

Even bathed in darkness, you hesitated to speak. “Um… I guess…” you started, not knowing how to ask what you wanted to ask. You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling, cursing the return of your shyness.

Joel waited for you patiently to gather your courage.

“How much… of porn, is fake?” you finally uttered.

Joel turned to his side, facing you, “What do you mean?”

“Like… when– when the girls…” You couldn’t say it.

“Come?”, he helped.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “is that real or… like– do they actually like it?”

“Right…”

Joel thought about your question, “’s hard to say… I mean mostly it’s real– at least in my experience– like I can feel it around my cock or fingers… but everybody has off days, and not everybody can come from penetration.”

Mostly it’s real. You went quiet, silently thinking about his answer as you stared a hole in the ceiling. Not everybody can come from penetration.

“Why you askin’ me this, sweetheart?” He shifted a little closer.

You pulled your hands from under the sheets, resting them over your chest. Your thumb on your right hand found your thumb on the left where it picked at the skin.

“Huh?”

“I­– I don’t know… it’s silly.”

“No, ‘s not– you’re not silly, sweetheart.” He shifted a little closer, a reassuring hand falling over your own and stopping you from picking at your fingers.

You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him either. You felt silly. You’d just complimented him earlier about how attentive he comes across in bed, and now you’re asking him if any of it was even real. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel asked, breaking the silence between you.

Nodding your head, you hummed.

“Are you a virgin?”

His question almost made you jump. Suddenly, his previously calming hands over yours felt heavy. A fire started in your cheeks. You were mortified, and it felt crazy. If you were back home right now, you’d be mortified to tell anyone you weren’t a virgin seeing as you were unmarried. Now, with Joel, you felt mortified he thought you were one.

“No,” you peeped. It would’ve sounded like a lie if it wasn’t the truth. “W-what makes you say that?” You finally looked at him, your eyes wide as saucers.

Unconvinced, he gave you a lopsided smile, “How many have you slept with?”

“How many have you slept with?” you mumbled.

“Honey, we both know that I’ve slept with way too many to count.” He said it with a teasing lilt to his voice, and a comforting rub of his thumb over the back of your hand. His small touch was enough to relax you, to bring you back from the ledge of mortification. This was Joel for god’s sake. He would never judge you; you knew that.

“One…” you whispered, “Only one person.”

With a hum, Joel shifted over to lay on his back, but his thumb still rubbed circles over your skin. “So– you’re asking me this ‘cause it was bad?” he mused.

“I don’t know… maybe,” you whispered.

“You don’t know if it was bad– or you don’t know why you’re askin’ me if women enjoy sex?”

“The latter,”

“So, it was bad,” he concluded, before he whispered, mostly to himself.

The silence was back, speaking loudly between the two of you as you both processed what the other had just said. After a beat Joel turned back on his side to face you again.

“Tell me– how bad was it?” He said it softly, a tenderness in his voice you hadn’t heard before.

“It just… it hurt.”

You sighed, and for the first time since the light went out you turned your head to look at him. “John–” your face scrunched up in a grimace as you spoke his name, like you couldn’t believe you were telling him this story. “He worked in accounting, and we were going around, you know? Went on a few dates. He was a sweet guy. After the third date we went back to his place, for a drink. He kissed me– and then we were making out, and during everything I just thought ‘This might as well happen’. I thought I wanted to lose my virginity… and I liked John– so why not. But then he just… pulled off my underwear, didn’t even touch me and… went to town.”

Joel sucked a breath through his teeth, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. “Did you– have you ever had an orgasm?”

You shifted uncomfortably under his question and turned your head back towards the ceiling again. “Yes,” you whispered.

Joel moved a little closer, and you felt your body dip towards him from his weight against the mattress. His hand resting over yours traveled down your arm, and under the sheet.

“By your own hand then,” he said it more like a statement than a question.

You felt your heart beat out of your chest, as something in the air between you shifted. Underneath the covers your body burned. Sucking in a breath, you held it for a moment before you nodded.

“Show me.”

His hand grazed over your waist, fingers dancing over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of your panties. You reveled in it, his touch, his proximity, his gentle kiss to your shoulder. You looked at him, searched his face for any indication that he was just messing with you.

“No? Ain’t feelin’ it?” He’d watched you too, you realized.

He withdrew his hand from your waist, and you panicked, “No!”

He stopped, instead hovering his hand over your body. “No, you ain’t feelin’ it, or no, don’t stop?” he asked you.

You panicked again. “Yes!” you said before your eyebrows met in a furrow, “I-I’m sorry, this isn’t very sexy.”

Joel withdrew his hand from your body, and your disappointment sank like a rock in water, but then he cupped your jaw and you forgot to breathe.

“Forget about sexy, sweetheart,” he told you, a calloused thumb rubbing against your skin, “not that you ain’t sexy– you are, but I need you to relax, okay?”

You nodded, and a smile spread wide across his face,

“Good girl.”

You almost mewled at the praise, and he noticed, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

“You liked that, huh?” he teased, rubbing his thumb softly over your lower lip, “Y’like being a good girl for me?”

You found it hard to think with him so close, breathless when he touched you like this. You nodded slowly; moony eyes fixated on him. Like a reflex, your legs rubbed together under the sheets, aching to relieve the pressure building.

“You’re so sweet, baby­– and shy,” his voice was low, like he was afraid someone would hear him. Slowly he leaned closer, pressing the softest kiss to your neck. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.

You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, teeth nipping as he pressed kiss after kiss to your sensitive skin. “You make my cock so fuckin’ hard.”

“Joel,” you finally choked out, a wet patch already soiling your panties.

“Yes?” he took your earlobe in his mouth, gently biting down on it before letting it go. You couldn’t think – at least not about something that wasn’t Joel and his touch.

“P-please kiss me?” you tried, your hand landing on his shoulder.

His breath puffed against your skin in a small chuckle, before he lifted his face from his new home in the crook of your neck. He found your blown out face, watching you with a tenderness in his eye. A beat passed and then he leaned closer, brushing his lips over yours. Your hand on his shoulder followed his neck to cup his face, keeping him close to you. His hand pushed gently at the sheets, revealing your upper body to him. The kiss was tender and slow, your noses pressed together. He pulled you apart and then put you together again. One of his hands trailed along the hem of your – his – t-shirt where he pushed at the fabric, bunching it just below your breasts. You broke apart.

“Was that all you wanted, sweet girl? Just a kiss?” His forehead touched your own, words low and taunting. You slowly shook your head, eyes still locked with Joel’s. His hand moved methodically, trailing down your stomach until it reached…

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“No?” he asked with a teasing grin, “What do you want then, sweetheart?”.

He already knew. His open palm cupped you over your soaked panties, the breadth of it pressing firmly down on your clit. You mewled under him, hips bucking up to meet his hand.

“Nah-ah,” he lifted his head from your forehead, dark eyes boring into yours. “You need to show me.”

Joel had started a dangerous fire inside of you. It lapped at your insides, burned away your insecurities, and replaced them with lust. With a shaky hand, your hand found Joel’s. His eyes were still locked on you ­– his gaze burning your cheek and branding you his.

“There you go,” he praised, letting you guide his hand up and down your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric, “good girl.”

You guided him to your clit, pressing the pads of his finger down on it in tight circles. You were so sensitive – on edge since you watched him filming earlier – a small moan fell from your lips.

“Feels good doesn’t it, baby, getting your clit rubbed.”

“Yes…” Joel drew another moan from you.

Your grip around his hand loosened, and Joel took over. With a practiced hand he circled his fingers just right. He started with a steady pace and tight circles, before he put more pressure on your aching bud. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge, coaxing small whimpers and breathy moans from your lips as you got more and more lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” he asked you, dipping his hand beneath your panties. A bold finger ran through your folds, a finger teasing at your entrance.

Your front teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite down to suppress a moan. It was hard to concentrate on what he was asking you when he was touching you like that.

“Y-yes, but…” you trailed off, feeling his finger, now coated in your arousal, back on your clit. It made your brain go blank.

“But what, sweet girl?” he pulled his hand from your panties, and you whined.

A wet trail followed him up your stomach. When you made no move to answer, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Leaning closer he pressed a short but tender kiss to your lips; his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow.

“It’s too messy,” you said when he pulled back, shaking your head.

“Yeah? You’ve got a messy pussy, sweetheart?”

Joel leaned down again, pressing soft fluttering kisses down your throat. When he reached the collar of your shirt, he pulled at the fabric, exposing your collarbone to his kisses. Your hands found his hair, tethering you to the moment.

“Yes,” you whispered, heat burning your cheeks at the confession he pulled from you.

With a wide grin, Joel sat up. His fingers found the hem of your shirt. He helped you pull it over your head, exposing your naked chest to him. Not even a second later he was back to kissing his way down your body, worshiping you with every press. You burned under him, every kiss like a small death.

Shifting on the bed, he settled between your legs. His mustache tickled the skin on your tummy, making you giggle. You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, at the sound of your fluttering laugh. He let his lips brush over your skin, trailing downwards to the top of your panties where he pressed a kiss, teeth pulling at the small bow like you were a present to be unwrapped, before his fingers hooked around the elastic. With a lift of your hips, you let him pull off your panties. The wet spot in the center clung to your cunt, as he peeled them off.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “wanna taste you, baby, wanna taste that messy pussy.”

With his fingers back on your cunt, you jumped a little under his touch. The air filled with a slick sound of your arousal as he ran them through your folds, a finger teasing your entrance.

“Relax for me baby,” he soothed, gently pressing kisses to the soft skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll take care of you.”

Looking down at him between your legs, you let yourself go. His eyes bored into yours. Warmth and lust, and nothing but affection behind them.

You nodded, “Please.”

A wide grin blossomed across Joel’s face as he leaned down, hovering just above your clit. He ducked forward, pressing the softest kiss to your clit, taking it slow and easing you into it with slow licks. You couldn’t help the whimpers escaping you, a needy sound desperate for more – more Joel. He pinned you down with his arm splayed over your tummy, keeping you right where he wanted you, turning you into a withering moaning mess under him.

Joel continued exploring you with his tongue. Changing between flicking and lapping at your clit, circling it just right, and wrapping his lips around it, giving it gentle sucks. He lapped at your folds, the hook of his nose catching on your clit as he tasted you properly. You felt yourself pushed closer and closer towards the edge, coxed by Joel.

Two careful fingers spread you apart, gliding up and down, coated in your arousal. He easily found your entrance to push a finger carefully inside. You felt yourself clench down on him; you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive and so close. Dropping your mouth open, a breathy moan escaped.

“Oh, fuck,”

Joel hummed against your pussy, the vibrations traveling straight to the coil tightening in your tummy. Slowly, he started thrusting his finger inside, rewarded by a slick sound, telling him just how wet and desperate you were for him. With a moan your head rolled back into the pillow – you were so close.

“Joel,” you panted.

His tongue continued his assault on your clit, and you lost yourself in him. You clamped down on his finger with every thrust. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Joel was so focused on you, so attentive, so responsive. Between your legs he drank in every twist of pleasure and whimpering moan.

“Joel,” you panted again.

“You’re gonna come for me aren’t you, sweetheart? Be a good girl and make a mess on my face.” he coaxed.

Joel quickly withdrew his finger to slip in another, and the new stretch had your legs shaking. His tongue circled your clit, sucking it with just the right amount of pressure. Underneath him you squirmed, breathy moans hitching in your throat.

“Oh, god,”

You couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t take it anymore.

With a silent cry, you came. His strong arm over your tummy held you down, as you twitched against the mattress, legs shaking. You’d never felt anything like this before. A pleasure so all-consuming you couldn’t remember your name, or where you were – only Joel. He helped you through it. His fingers kept up their pace, pads brushing right up against that spot of bliss, as you clenched down hard around them. You gripped the sheets, desperate for a lifeline as you came down.

Joel slowed down his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your clit. Your pleasure turning to overstimulation – now you definitely couldn’t take it anymore. Fragile and sensitive, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.

He let you push him around, his lips finding the inside of your thighs instead, where his mustache teased the sensitive skin. With one last kiss, Joel pulled away. You almost didn’t register the dip in the mattress as he laid down beside you. You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a post-orgasm-cloud.

“Joel, shit, I…” you tried to speak, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

“I know, sweetheart,” Joel answered. He pulled you closer, wrapping a hand around you. Slowly, you turned to your side, engulfed in Joel’s embrace.

“D-did you want to–”

You could feel the presence of his hard clothed cock pressed against your ass, but his big safe arms around you told you a different story. He nosed at the back of your neck, pressing fluttering kisses to the skin, making goosebumps erupt.

“No, darlin’, not tonight,” his voice was just above a whisper, the bass vibrating against your ear.

“Are you sure­? I-I mean– we can if you want to,” you spluttered. He’d just given you the best orgasm in your life, he shouldn’t have to go to bed without one for himself.

“Not tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss behind your ear, “It’s been a long day– I’m tired, you’re tired­… let’s just sleep, my sweet girl.”

“S-should we talk about this?” you asked, your hand slipping into his, pressing it against your naked chest.

“In the mornin’,” he hummed, voice coated in sleep.

With heavy eyelids, you fell asleep in Joel’s arms. The safety of being wrapped up in him, lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The motel bed was hard and uncomfortable, and the pillow thin and flimsy, but it didn’t matter in Joel’s arms.

Morning came too quickly, and with a screeching sound of an alarm clock that pulled you from heaven. Jolting awake behind you, Joel groaned. His hands slipped from your body; the warmth exchanged with prickling goosebumps. You shifted over on your back, watching as Joel turned off the alarm. The beeping stopped, and with a tired grunt Joel laid down back beside you. When he looked at you – his tired eyes glinting – a sleepy smile pulled at his lips.

“Mornin’,”

“Good morning, Joel” you smiled back.

“It is a good mornin’, isn’t it?” he hummed, turning on his side.

You mirrored him, shifting closer and resting your head on his pillow. He snaked a hand over the dip in your waist, big hand splaying over your naked back.

“It is,” you agreed, locking eyes with him.

Rubbing in slow circles, his hand on your back was soothing. You reveled in it, reveled in Joel, in the bliss of being so close to him. You shifted even closer, resting your forehead to his chest.

“You should probably fire me,” you mumbled into his skin, “I’ve been extremely unprofessional.”

A chuckle came from deep inside Joel, it vibrated through his skin, where you felt it under your fingertips.

“I ain’t firin’ my best employee,” he laughed, placing a dry kiss to the top of your head.

You pulled away with a frown, head back on your own pillow. “This is like the cliché of clichés, Joel– sleeping with your assistant…”

In the bright light of the day, you cursed yourself for your late-night moment of weakness. You’ve never done anything like this before. What if this will be all that Joel wants from you from now on? You don’t think your heart could take it if it was.

Joel’s laugh died in his throat, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. “Who said anything about sleepin’ with my assistant?”

Your eyes widened with mortification. Shit. A hand came up to rub at your face, as you sat up, pulling the sheets around you.

“Hey, no, sweetheart,” Joel grabbed at your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You couldn’t look at him – afraid tears would push behind your eyes. He’s a pornstar, what were you thinking? You were just a girl. A girl to warm his bed for a night. How could you put your job on the line for something like this?

The sheets rustled as he shifted closer, “Please, lay down, I need to talk to you.”

“Joel, I-I’m sorry– w-we can just forget about it– I’ll quit, don’t worry about it– me, don’t worry about me,” you stuttered out, your back still turned.

“I ain’t forgettin’ about nothin’, sweetheart– shit, d’you think I do this often?”

His question made you turn around. He was propped up on his elbow, carefully watching you.

You nodded, and he sighed.

“It’s been years since I’ve slept with someone outside of work,” he confessed, “Shit, I don’t even seek it out, I ain’t interested in it.”

“I-I’m sorry Joel, I­–” you started, but he cut you off,

 “You’re not listenin’,” he shook his head, “what I’m sayin’ is: I wanna sleep with you.”

Your face scrunched up in a confused frown, “Because I’m someone from work?”

Joel let out a breathless chuckle, “No, sweetheart, ‘s because I think you’re beautiful.”

His words almost didn’t register.

“What?”

This time his laugh is loud and golden, coated in happiness. He pulled at your hand, and you fell, your back hitting the sheets.

“You are…” he emphasized, cupping your cheek, and guiding you back in his embrace. “And you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you? But so smart, and kind, and caring­– someone you can’t help but fall in love with.”

“Fall in love with?” you repeated, you couldn’t believe what he was telling you.

“Yeah, sweet girl,” he smiled at you, all teeth, and crinkles around his eyes in the morning light.

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he laughed, guiding your face closer to his, his lips brushing over yours, “wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

His kiss stole your breath and twisted you up inside. He licked at the seam, and you opened yourself to him. He licked into your mouth, one arm snaked around your body, drawing you closer, pulling whine after desperate whine from you and stealing your breath.

Landing on your hip, his hand traveled downwards – over the thick of your thigh, and down the inside in smooth motions. He tugged on your leg, pulling it to rest over his hip, his hard cock rutting into your bare heat. His kiss got more desperate; his tongue melded with yours. It was hot, and dizzying and all-consuming all at the same time.

You grinded against him, feeling his hard cock against you. The fabric of his underwear caught on your clit, rubbing it just right, your arousal darkening the fabric. You moaned into his mouth, a desperate need for Joel building deep in your stomach.

With a rut of his hips, he broke away from your kiss. “You want me to fill up this perfect little pussy, don’t you baby?” His hand on your cheek disappeared between your bodies.

“Yes,” you tried to say, but the words got stuck in your throat when you felt the head of Joel’s cock rub up and down your folds. Your heavy breathing, the slick sound of your arousal the only sound in the room.

“Listen’ baby, y’hear how wet you are for me?” he whispered in awe, the head of his cock caught on your clit. You braced yourself with a hand to his shoulder, breathy pants the only sounds leaving your lips.

“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he chuckled. He let go of the grip around his cock, the sound of it slapping against his stomach obscene. A beat later he swiped his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal before drawing tight circles to your clit.

Your face squeezed shut in pleasure, your fingers dug into his shoulder. He eased a finger inside, before he quickly pulled out and added another. The stretch of his fingers was easy, your arousal dripping over his knuckles as he thrusted them inside with ease.

You grinded down on his hand, meeting his thrusts, forcing his fingers deeper inside. Always so attentive, Joel curled his fingers where they hit your spot perfectly, just like he’d done last night. A breathy squeal fell from your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he egged you on.

“Joel, please,” you panted. Sparks traveled through your body, collecting in a pit in your stomach where it coiled in on itself, aching for release.

He curled his fingers again, and hit your spot – his palm snug against your throbbing clit, “Fuckin’ perfect you are, darlin’, so tight and wet around my fingers.”

“Shit,”

He pushed you straight for the edge, your walls fluttered around his fingers. Your panting got heavier, your eyes squeezed shut, you’re so close. Joel chuckled, his breath puffing your face and he… pulled away.

You whined at the emptiness, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

He cupped your jaw, “Poor baby,” he pouted before he pulled you in for a kiss. You sighed into him, desperate to feel him anyway he wanted.

“Turn around,” he ordered against your lips, his hand letting go of your jaw to tap at the top of your hip.

You did as he told you, turning around in his hold to press your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressed against you. Behind you, you heard him let out a deep and guttural groan. His hand hooked under your thigh, lifting it to your chest and exposing your wet and desperate cunt for him. You let him manhandle you into the position he wants, trusting him to know what’ll feel the best.

He guided the tip of his cock through your soaked folds coating it in your arousal before grazing it over your throbbing clit.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear, like a hiss. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you, and himself.

“I-I need it, Joel, please,” you begged, a hand clinging to the sheets.

“Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need this big cock to fill you up?” he asked, pushing just the tip inside.

“Joel, please, please,” you whimpered, almost a squeak. In one fluid motion he pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt inside you. The stretch of him was overwhelming, but the angle had you seeing stars.

“Ah– fuck,” you cried, your eyes immediately squeezing shut. Your hand searched for his where it held your leg to your chest. You needed to anchor yourself to him, afraid you’d fall apart right there and then.

“You alright sweetheart?” you heard him whisper in your ear, and you nodded slightly, “Feel good?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, mouth dipping open in pleasure. 

Behind you he groaned into your ear, cursing in hushed whispers. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all that cock inside,” he pulled out nearly all the way, taking his time with it, moving with practiced motions.

“Shit,” you mewled as he bottomed out inside for the second time. Grinding against your ass, he pushed himself as deep as he possible could – you felt him in your fucking stomach, he was so deep.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he told you, pulling out and thrusting back inside.

Picking up the pace, Joel started fucking into you deep and hard. With each grind of his hips against your ass, with every thrust, he made sure to bury his thick cock as deep inside as he could, angling his cock expertly so the head rubbed up against your spot. Behind you he grunted and moaned in your ear. It was sweaty and hot, and sticky between your legs.

He let go of your leg, ordering you to press it to your chest, as his hand traveled downwards to brush his fingers over your throbbing clit.

“Joel,” you mewled. He pulled a symphony of whimpers and moans from you with every thrust.

“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight– shit,” he panted in your ear, “You’re so good for me baby, takin’ that cock so well.”

His fingers pressed down on your clit, drawing tight circles, pushing you towards the edge of bliss. You squirmed against him, hips meeting his with every thrust as you start to chase your fast approaching orgasm.

“Need you to come for me, sweetheart– squeeze that cock like a good girl.”

“Joel,” you cried and let go. Your walls fluttered around his cock as you came, back arching off his chest, as your body squirmed and shook in his arms. Breathy gasps and pathetic whimpers left your lips as he kept up his unrelenting pace, fucking you through it, and prolonging your high.

You were far away. Blissed and fucked out as you came down from your moment of ecstasy. Behind you Joel’s grunts bordered on desperate, as his thrusts started to become sloppy.

“Shit, sweetheart– m’close, so fuckin’ close.”

“Come for me Joel,” you pleaded.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he pulled out.

His hand was on you in an instance, pushing you to your stomach as he turned you around. He knelt over you, fisting his cock desperately. Turning your head, you pushed off the bed to look over your shoulder where you found his eyes, locking them with his. Joel came with a guttural moan, the muscles in his stomach tightening and loosening as he coated your ass in his cum. It was hot and sticky on your back, feeling it drip slowly down the side of your waist.  

“God damn,” he breathed out through a chuckle. His breath was heavy, like he’d just climbed ten stories.

You turned to your side to look up at him properly. He looked beautiful; his hair messy from sleep, broad chest heaving, a content smile pulling at his lips as you gave him a smile.

“Took the words straight out of my mouth.”

i hope you liked this! part two -> here

© shellshocklove, 2023 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[rainbowdaisy13]

*As always, these are my thoughts and connections Im making as I watch—I do not claim to know anything secret or for this to be taken as fact*

So we start out the Spotify Video with a pan out of the whole scene which is essentially Taylor-World with her as the centerpiece—song choice is Cruel Summer which is heavily Kaylor coded

The next scene is these two people in love in what we find out later is Taylor’s eye. Shes wearing Miss Americana and the other person is a taller woman with her face covered by leaves—why would her face need to be covered? The infamous red scarf is present which has now become a symbol for Taylor’s affections (IBYTAM video)

Next we see the clock moving closer to Midnight and a woman dressed in lavendar answering the phone upside down. Shes got clock earrings on and seems to be real excited about whatever she’s talking about

Next a close up of the Lover House burning in Taylors hand—this symbolism is so important to Taylor it’s *the* thing she has in her hand—could’ve been anything but it’s that

Pan out and we get another tall face covered (again why can’t we see who these people are?) stranger step into frame next to the Sunset and Vine street crossing—a Gorgeous reference, which is also heavily Kaylor coded

We switch to seeing the clock again move closer to Midnight and hear the lyrics “I’m always waiting for you to be waiting below” as we see this gentlemen covered in clocks checking both his watches—is it time yet?? Is it happening?? I believe the people in yellow represent us in this fandom constantly checking our watches asking WHEN TAYLOR

Next we get an Angel / Devil scene where the dice seem to add up to 89 and 13 at different times. What interests me more is that the Angel first aims for the dice—she’s gonna kill The Game—and at the last second changes her mind and decides nope she’s gonna take down the Devil who is playing the Game

After the Angel presumably takes out the Devil, the clock finally strikes Midnight and an ensuing earthquake appears shaking everyone up—this is wild to me—once we meet her after Midnight she knows the world will be shaken by her truth. But don’t worry! Tree is there measuring the aftershocks and noting how TS The Business is impacted

Next we get shots of a girl with her face covered playing guitar, 2 people fishing, and people dancing in the snow in a cave—if yall have any connections with those add on, nothing super jumped out to me. I DID love the Fox peaking out of the KT boot though

Then we see another person in yellow trying to see through the leaves in the snowglobe—again I think this represents this fandom. There’s also another woman in Orange, with her face covered, sitting next to a dog that resembles Karlie’s dog

And my fave part where it all comes together, the closing shot of all the small people in Taylor World is again focused on the 2 lovebirds—it’s revealed they are in Taylor’s eye, and she winks as we hear “I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you”

A Masterpiece as always well done Mastermind

[passivenovember]

The problem is, Steve doesn't ask Billy to be his boyfriend.

He tiptoes around it.

He calls Billy at midnight and begs him to come over because it's important, but Neil took the Camaro and Billy's stranded on Cherry Shit Street, so he slams the receiver down and goes to bed.

But the thing about a Harrington is they can't rub two braincells together, so he comes to get Billy, anyway.

And that's the problem. He climbs through Billy's window and bangs his head on the windscreen and once they're sure Neil's still snoring himself to death, Steve begs Billy to go out into the cold so they can watch Terminator on Steve's plasma screen. All big brown eyes and, I'll be good, I promise.

But it's midnight.

Billy goes, anyway.

And they've been doing this long enough that Billy shouldn't be surprised when they only make it ten minutes into When Harry Met Sally, fuckin' liar, and Steve's got his hand in Billy's pants.

They barely make it upstairs.

The problem is, Steve scrunches his nose when he comes inside of Billy, and they've been doing this long enough that Billy shouldn't get hot in the face over something like forgetting the condom.

But it turns out that fucking Steve is like that movie where the guy has to live the same day over and over again, only it's perfect. And Billy doesn't mind.

The problem is, he'd have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, away from this.

Steve makes a high, pretty noise in the back of his throat like always, and collapses on top of Billy like always, and says, panting so hard that he sucks a mouthful of Billy's neck, "You're amazing."

Which is different. Earnest. It stops Billy in his tracks to that warm, familiar afterglow.

"What?" Billy demands, suddenly terrified, but.

Steve's eyes sparkle, "I'm serious, Bill. You're. You're so perfect--"

"Get off of me," Billy says. Has to do something about this. Ruin the moment before it destroys his snow globe daydream.

Steve looks wounded. "Sorry," He says.

There's a lump in Billy's throat, like he caught Steve's whiny little noise, somehow, and he's trying to grow something from its wonder. Billy shoves gently at Steve's shoulders, "I have to piss," he says, so he doesn't break any hearts, and Steve pulls out.

Hissing while he does it. Smiling all dopey and soft when Billy gets out of bed and pulls a t-shirt on. He didn't check who's it was, so.

It's Steve's. It smells like him.

Steve lays back in bed with his fingers tucked under his sex-ruined brown mop and tracks the way the hem of his t-shirt flaps softly just below Billy's sack.

"Stop starting at me," Billy says.

"I'm not."

"Why are you smiling like that?"

"Nothing else in the room to look at," Steve shrugs. He reaches into the night stand and pulls away with a pack of cigarettes. His Nona's ashtray, cut from clay the shape of an apple core, just like always. "Thought you had to wiz?"

Billy goes to the bathroom.

He doesn't have to pee so he cleans himself up, instead, splashing water through his curls and using Steve's toothbrush to scrub the taste of cock from his back molars. Billy thinks that if they can forget the condom he can use the toothbrush. Eye for an eye, sorta thing.

When he gets back to Steve's room, Steve's asleep.

Which isn't normal, either.

It pisses Billy off because Steve didn't ask Billy to stay over even though Steve's the one who picked him up from his dad's house in the middle of the night.

Steve never asks. That's his problem.

So Billy snatches the book he started reading the last time he was stranded here from Steve's nightstand and tries not to jostle the mattress too much when he slips under the covers.

Steve's cute when he sleeps.

In the few times Billy's seen it, that never changes. Steve snores softly, barely ruffling the air around him, and he clings like a vine.

Billy tries not to smile and fails when Steve curls around him, his pretty brown eyes fluttering at the sound of Billy opening the book.

"You're reading?"

"That a problem? You're ready for round two?"

"No, I just--"

"If you don't want to fuck I'll just leave." Billy tosses the book onto the nightstand, smirking when warm, soft hands curl around his belly to keep him in place.

"I drove you, asshole."

"Then you'd better get your ass out of bed and get dressed. It's forty-degrees out and I'm not walking from your pink fucking palace all the way home to the shit shack."

Steve blinks at him, wide and owlish. "Are you referring to my cock at the pink palace?"

"Your house, dipshit," Billy laughs, loud and sudden, from the pit of his belly. It feels good. Steve's fingers poke and prod and him, and that feels better.

Big brown eyes search him. "Stay with me."

Billy shouldn't. "No," He says, just to be difficult.

"Why not?"

"I have to be up early tomorrow."

"Move in with me," Steve says, tugging and pulling until Billy falls onto the mattress next to him. "Stay here forever, you can sleep in and I'll make you breakfast if you promise to be nice."

His fingers trace the curve of Billy's jaw. Billy wants to bite him, so he does, sucking on Steve's wrist to see if the skin will fall away.

"Ow," Steve snaps, watching him, "You're so mean to me."

Billy spits his palm out. "You love it."

"I love you," Steve says. Easy like summer days.

Billy's stomach flattens itself, pushing down into his spine until it feels like he's being pulled through the mattress, and the floor, down into the darkness of the Earth. "Is that what was so important? You had to drag me out of my bed just to tell me--"

"Your bed sucks. You sleep so much better here."

"I've never slept here, before."

"You are. Tonight. Every night after that, too," Steve wets his lips, eyes sparkling. "Say something, Billy."

Billy sits, breathing until the heavy feeling in his stomach evens out. "You never ask me what I want," Billy tells the wall. "You never do, you always just tell me what's going to happen. Why do you do that?"

"Because if I give you a chance, you might say no."

Billy looks back, his heart ramming into his ribs at the soft, sweet look on Steve's face.

It's ridiculous, what those eyes do to him. That mouth. Billy wants to kiss him. It's a sharp, familiar feeling that's brand new every time. So intense.

"You piss me off," Billy says.

"I love you," Steve's still propped on one arm, easy as pie, staring at him. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you--"

"So, what?" Billy snaps, suddenly furious. "You love me--"

"--and you love me--"

"Harrington," Billy smiles in spite of himself and it hurts. Like the way healing bones do. He scrubs a hand across his face and tucks back onto the mattress, frowning when Steve doesn't settle with him.

They stare at each other.

They think about how long they've been doing this, and all the ways they fit together perfectly and all the ways they almost do.

Finally, Billy sighs. "So I love you and you love me, and what? We're together, now?"

"We already were."

"Could've fooled me."

"You're my boyfriend," Steve says, soft and full of wonder. He kisses the corner of Billy's mouth, "You don't get to say no. I love you."

"Fine," Billy says, red-faced. "Can we go to bed, now? Dick."

"Yeah, let's go to bed." Steve says.

And.

This whole problem. It's not so bad.

[cgogs]

dear atlas, c!dnf | 4.7k | angst with a happy ending

@dreblrsecretsanta for @purpleglitch !! Sorry for the early upload, it's just that I'm about to be BEYOND busy for the holidays and figured I'd upload this now while I have time. I hope you enjoy it so much!! Happy holidays to you <3

Each step up the castle tower sends a razor-sharp, bone-deep bolt through Dream’s legs. It’s his boot’s fault, mostly. He’s been meaning to replace them, it’s just that every hour more important things are added to his to-do list. Mediate this conflict, protect George, meet with someone here, monitor status on this, go here, deliver that, and try not to die until the day’s itinerary is complete.

Shopping just isn’t a high priority, but he’s beginning to reconsider that sentiment. He really should just give in and invest in another horse, but it would probably just be killed within a month and they’re just far too expensive for that. 

His armor clinks quietly as he moves, uneven and exhausted. A small part of him alerts like a guard dog– straighten up, nobody can know you’re vulnerable, anyone could hear how hurt you are– but another painful step quiets the barking. He traps the groan behind his teeth.

Dream stops for a moment to lean against the wall, hand braced on where the candelabra fixture hooks into the stone. This spiral staircase is dearly kicking his ass, more so than usual. Without the climb to focus on or the pain to blur his vision, he has the opportunity to take in his surroundings.

The castle is quiet, quieter than usual, candles burning low and dripping on the floor. Moonlight cuts through the windows at an angle sharper than it should. 

Dream pulls his communicator from his belt to check the time, a curse slipping out under his breath as the numbers meet his eyes. It’s nearly three in the morning. He’s coming home late. Very late. They talked about this, Dream promised he’d try to get home earlier. 

Guilt settles thick in his gut, despite barely having the brainpower to feel much of anything at all other than exhaustion. He blows the stray hairs out of his eyes, chuffing like an annoyed horse.

Four nights ago, George had been waiting behind the door at the top of the tower. Dream knew he was in trouble before George even opened his mouth. He was holding a clock and asked Dream to guess how late it was. When he guessed wrong, George shoved it in his face, too close to even see the hands, and angrily proclaimed it was nearly one in the morning, and that Dream had been coming home at one in the morning every night the last week after spending all day ‘doing god knows what, who knows where.’

Dream had done his best to be earnest and honest, as much as he could be. If George had it his way and was privy to every little thing Dream did, he’d be stoned in the street or tied to a pyre. Dream’s not sure what events would bridge the gap between these two truths, but he knows it would happen.

He had told George he would try, but that he had so much to do this week. George was anxiously picking at his cuticles the way he did when he was thinking hard, and asked him to promise he wouldn’t come home later than this. Dream thought he’d be able to. And, yes, he’s sorry he broke his promise but… it’s all so important. So important.

He hadn’t meant to let time get away from him. He just had so much to do, and so many stupid things got in the way, Tubbo and Fundy, then Q… and he got in a scrape on his way back and it was all just so fucking stupid.

Guilt grows like a vine up his throat.

He’s sorry. He thinks about what he’s going to say, how he’ll explain himself. He can’t grip on a coherent sentence or script, eyelids heavy like mud, mind fuzzy, feet aching.

Maybe it’ll be fine. George will be asleep, and they can talk about it in the morning. He’ll open the door and see dark hair splayed over feather pillows, still as death. Dream will strip his armor and curl into his body and fit whatever position George fell asleep in, and he’s so excited for it. Though currently, he’s not sure which lover he’s looking forward to seeing more– the bed or the boy.

The last seven days have felt like seven years.

Wax drips onto his fingers. Wincing, he takes another painful step forward. Suddenly things like guilt and excitement were as far away and abstract as distant planets or stars. 

Dream nearly falls through the door when he reaches the summit. He catches his breath, straightens his posture, and prepares to get ready for bed without waking his king. 

He opens the door as quietly as possible. Thankfully, it squeals only a little bit. He tiptoes in, craning his head to look at the boy already fast asleep. He’s curled all the way to the edge of his side of the bed, back facing the door. Dream wonders if it means something. 

He unhooks his cloak first, folding it gently on the table in the middle of the room. It’s a large room that can fit a round dinner table, as well as bookcases and couches and a fireplace. The kinds of things George doesn’t appreciate as much as Dream thought he would.

The boots are next to go, then his sword and his axe, then armor one by one until he’s stripped to his pants and shirt. After a moment’s thought, he shucks off his pants. Shirt and boxers. He looks at the bed and practically salivates, not even thinking to bother with changing his bandages. He sets his comm on the bedside table and attempts to lift a leg to climb in.

Dream’s legs wobble and give out as soon as he leans his weight on the bed. He collapses onto his side, a symphony of pained noises trapped behind the cage of his teeth. He looks up, wide-eyed, to see if he’s woken his Sleeping Beauty. George remains still as a corpse. 

He rather pathetically pulls himself up to spoon him, arm laying limply over George’s side. A sigh of utter relief slides out of his lungs as his chest decompresses. It’s relief like an ice bath in the desert or hot soup in the snow.

The bed is soft on his aching body, George’s sweatpants soft on his bare, bruised legs. Dream drags his calves to tangle with his, allowing himself a relieved whimper into the crook of George’s neck. He sometimes teases George for dressing like he’s living in constant winter, but really he wouldn’t change it for the world. It means soft hugs when he drags his miserable body into bed at the end of the day. If he didn’t wear his sweaters, George wouldn’t be able to cradle his head in his sleeves when he’s bleeding, and Dream wouldn’t be able to bite down on the thick fabric when he had to scream. 

He feels the tension in his body slowly unwind. Every breath has him sinking further and further into the mattress, a taut string slowly, slooowly let to rest. He pulls George closer, hooking his arm tighter around his waist. If he wasn’t used to it it might feel a little like cuddling a corpse. 

That dog in the back of his mind starts growling again. Telling him to check, check, check. 

Dream obliges since it’s a simple request, and he knows he’ll never be able to sleep otherwise. He slides his fingers down George’s arm to find his wrist, pressing on his pulse point. It takes a few adjustments, but he finds that steady beating pressing against the pads of his fingers. Alive. Safe. The last requirement needed to sleep is fulfilled. Dream sighs, nuzzling his head against George’s neck, hand still loosely wrapped around the bone of George’s wrist. 

The midnight air is clear and cool. Dream is warm and holding the love of his life. Nothing outside that horrible wooden door matters here. Nothing else matters. No blood, no bone, no war. Just George.

That is, until he hears the unmistakable sound of his communicator buzzing against the table behind him. Dream ignores it at first, but it comes again and again. His eyebrows knit in frustration. He buries his nose further into the dark space between George’s neck and the pillow, like he could outrun the nagging in the back of his mind. 

It vibrates again, breaking Dream’s resolve. He groans miserably, more than half asleep, as he untangles himself to reach back for the comm. His vision is blurry with sleep, making it near impossible to read the screen until he’s blinked a dozen times. The light of the screen shines too bright for how dark it is. He uses a hand to shield George’s direction so it won’t wake him.

It’s Punz. Punz, in code, telling him he’s finished the reconnaissance he’d been told to do two days ago. Updates on the pet experiments, no luck yet. Their theory about the revive book being exclusive to human souls is seeming more and more solid, but that’s not something he wants to be thinking about at the moment. 

<Dream> thkx

<Dream> domt text me this lat e

He fumbles the buttons, accidentally sending Punz a string of gibberish before giving up entirely on typing a coherent goodbye. He’s about to throw the device down and shove his nose back into the crook of George’s neck when the body next to him begins to tremble.

Dream stares for a moment, wondering if he’s hallucinating from lack of sleep. Then there’s a hiccup, followed by two sharp breaths, both so quiet Dream would have missed them if he wasn’t holding his breath. 

“George?” Dream whispers, voice wrecked from all the yelling he’d done today. He drops the comm on the bed so he can lay his full hand on George’s shoulder. He could be having a nightmare, but he’s not sure. All he knows is that he wants to fix it. “George?”

George gives up on keeping it in and starts crying honestly. Whiny but guttural, more hurt than angry– but it’s with his teeth, not throat. Dream sits up in bed, the exhaustion that had been possessing him instantly chased away. 

“B–by?” Dream whispers, word cracked in two from his shredded voice. “What’s wrong?”

He feels like an idiot trying to catch something that’s about to fall, chasing it around with his arms outstretched. He wants to fix this, but doesn’t know how. George is mad, he can tell, but he’s hugging himself, and that isn’t something George does when he’s mad. It’s something he does when he’s scared. 

“You’re safe.” Dream rubs his arm, pushes those beautiful brown curls out of his face, watches the tears fall over the bridge of his nose. “I’m right here.”

“Why’d’you– why’d you lie to me?” George says, strangled. He seems to decide crying is stupid and embarrassing, because he furiously wipes at his eyes. “Why are you always lying to me?”

Dream bites his lip anxiously. The same guilt from the hallway lacquers his insides again. 

“I didn’t– I’m– I didn’t lie. I lost track of time. I’m sorr–”

“You’re lying to me.” George sits up, eyes red and stubborn. He’s pulling his thoughts together to form an argument, Dream can see the gears turning. “You’re hiding things.” 

“I’m, that– okay, just. What am I lying about?”

“Where you go all day!” George has grabbed a pillow to hug, rocking himself back and forth. Dream thinks, briefly, that he looks cute. He wants to hold him, but the way they’re sitting is classic parley formation, facing each other with crossed legs, knees touching. Neither of them can cross the middle line until the argument is over. That’s just how they do things. “I don’t– I don’t know exactly what, but…”

“I’m not lying to you about where I go. I have a lot of projects, and I’m helping–”

“I know. I know. Helping, helping, helping. Fingers in a lot of pies.” George puts up an honorable fight against the wetness in his voice, still furiously wiping his tears. The skin under his eyes has turned an irritated pink. “But why? Why do you have to do so much? You’re my knight. I’m your king. You should be with me.”

George has a way of shooting arrows straight through him. Dream rubs his eyes as the words dig into his gut. His voice sounds defeated already. “I can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Dream. Like, I– I just don’t understand…”

“Yeah, you don’t.” His voice breaks and turns quiet halfway through, like he could’ve softened the blow.  He doesn’t know why he said that. He’s just tired of this same argument, over and over. It’ll be over soon. So soon. He wishes George would just believe him.

George’s expression screws into desperation, fingers digging into his pillow. “Then tell me! Just, tell me, Dream. I’m not– stupid, I can understand things. I’m not stupid.”

It’s not that Dream is angry. It’s just that he’s tired beyond tired and this is the only time of the day he doesn’t have to wear his armor. The one room where nothing else matters but the people who occupy it. He burrows his head in his hands. 

“Why don’t you trust me, Dream? Did I do something wrong?”

“Why don’t you trust me? Why don’t you just–” 

“Because I can’t even trust you to keep a super simple promise! I’m– you can’t expect me to just, like, be fine with never getting to see you.”

“Well maybe if you tried to be king even a little bit, I wouldn’t have to go do all your shit for you.”

George damn near barks, sharp and angry. Dream watches his mouth form the beginning of a thousand different sentences, hands clenching into fists before his expression breaks entirely. His angry grimace turns into a quivering frown, eyes wet with fear, voice pitched and tight.

“Are you cheating on me?”

Dream feels like he’s swallowed a bucket of ice. His back straightens as he shoots up. Instantly, he regrets antagonizing him. He doesn’t know why he said that. He’s lined with dog teeth.

“No! What? Absolutely not.” He wants to break the rules to touch him. So he does. His side stings as he leans to brush his fingers against George’s knuckles. “Never.”

Whatever angry force of nature George had been channeling before is dying now, Dream can see it fading in his eyes. Fading into some kind of relief. Maybe it was the reassurance, or the touch, but something is pacified.

“Did someone tell you that? Or make a joke?” He knows people don’t have many kind things to say about him these days. George picks at his cuticles, rocking slightly. Dream rocks with him a bit, too.

“No. I guess. Not really…” He sniffles. There’s a stiff silence. Dream searches his eyes, trying to read his mind. “I’m sorry. I’m just crazy.”

“What happened?”

“I just really wanted you to come home tonight. I stayed up.” George shrugs hopelessly, looking anywhere that isn’t Dream. “You have to understand from my perspective. I never see you, and then when I do see you you get into bed and start texting someone else. This isn’t the only time it’s happened.”

“It was just Punz,”

“I don’t care. I don’t care. Not, not my point.” George stresses, “you swore you’d be my knight but you don’t even. Knight. And I guess it’s whatever because I don’t really king either. But I… miss you. I miss you.”

Dream doesn’t know what to say. He opens and closes his mouth like an idiot fish, trying to find a way to comfort him but not make a promise he can’t keep. George waits for it. It never comes. They both feel it when the other gives up on a solution. Defeat on both sides. 

They look at the sheets silently. Their knees rub together. Moonlight makes the room glow, lines the edges of George’s hair in silver.

His voice is small when he speaks next. “Where were you tonight?”

Dream was going to lie so he wouldn’t worry him, but. “I had some trouble with monsters. I got pinned down in the forest. I’m sorry.”

George scoffs. Somehow, Dream knows the frustration isn’t directed at him. “Oh my god. That’s not even your fault.”

“I don’t know. I could have texted you or something. I’m sorry I kept you up.”

George wipes his nose with the edge of his pillow. Dream would think it was gross if it was anyone else. “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I’m not around. I want to be. This, it’ll all be over soon. Things will settle down.”

“Does it have to be you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

George nods weakly. He knows he won’t get a better answer. Dream doesn’t have a better one to give him. He’s too tired. 

“And you’re not cheating on me?”

“You are the prettiest thing in the whole world. I’d be an idiot.” He doesn’t know if flattery will get him far, but he can see the corners of George’s mouth flicker, and that’s enough. “You’re the only one that would put up with me anyway.”

“Why is your voice so messed up?” George lays his pillow back down on the bed. His legs unfold and he moves to lay back down. Dream wants to scoot closer, but thinks twice. There’s a moonbeam shining there. He doesn’t want George to see his legs. 

“Screamed a lot.”

“Why?”

“Scaring people to cut their shit out.”

“Mmh.”

This is George’s script for end-of-day. It doesn’t have a lot of heart this time. Dream is realizing it never truly did. He feels bad. George lays his hand in the empty space, beckoning him to come forward or lay down. Dream doesn’t move. He sucks in a breath.

“Are you okay? Did… Dream, are you hurt?”

He’s an idiot for thinking he could keep it from George, of all people. But he didn’t want to worry him.

“Uh. Well, yeah. But it’s okay. I promise. I already treated it.” Dream knows this won’t work. He tries to lay down, legs twitching through the pain. George clocks it immediately, propping himself up on his forearms.

“Show me.” 

It’s not a request. So, Dream does. He pulls his legs into the light in all their bruised glory. His foot, the one that was giving him the most trouble, is a far deeper shade of purple than he anticipated. 

George runs his fingers over each bruise, marble white and cold as stone. His expression is stone. He must spot a hint of bandage from under Dream’s shirt, because his eyes flit from his bruises to his side, and Dream knows the jig is up.

“I promise it’s okay. I promise, George.” Not that his promises mean anything. 

George must think so too. He ignores him in favor of gently pulling up his shirt, spying the blood soaked bandages wrapped around his middle. Dream hisses when the fabric of his shirt catches on the gauze. George frowns.

“Why would you let me just yell at you for being late? You should have told me.” 

“To be fair. I was late.”

“To be fair. You were wounded. You literally got jumped.” 

George gives it an apologetic look, tracing the blood stains with the tips of his fingers. Guilt doesn’t look good on him, but Dream doesn’t know how to fix it. 

“Change those first thing when you wake up.” George sets his shirt back in place. He gently tugs on Dream’s neck to lay down. Nothing sounds better. “And don’t jump around and stuff.”

“I know.”

They curl up together, noses nearly pressing. It’s faint in the dark, but Dream can see the pitiable expression on his face. Thin, cold fingers come to rest on Dream’s jaw. Dream holds his hip in return. Equal and fair, reciprocated and even. George searches his eyes for an anchor, something to respond to. He just looks sadder and sadder as the minutes press on.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. “I just miss you.”

It’s hard for Dream to whisper back. “I miss y–u too.”

“Do you really?”

“This is my favorite part of the day. Getting to hold you. ‘N be held by you.”

The fingers on his jaw twitch. George’s thumbs cradle his face. Dream watches his face carefully. Though he knows every curve and edge and nasty imperfection of George’s being, it only hits him in moments like this just how much he has to protect. The whole world fits in the curve of his arms. The whole world has a kiss like a nine-volt battery and fury like a god. The whole world waits for him to come home every day, hoping he’s in one piece. Dream wonders if the world knows he’s trying to save it. 

“I love you.” George whispers, barely tethered to the waking world. Maybe he realized he hadn’t said it when they were fighting, or after they decided to stop fighting. Maybe it's the last thing he thinks before going to sleep, and the first thing he thinks in the morning. Maybe it was coating the back of his throat like Dream’s guilt coats his, and he just had to tell him.

“I’m sorry.” Dream kisses him. “I love you.”

George falls asleep with tear tracks that have just barely dried. Dream wipes them away with his thumbs, admiring how peaceful he looks. 

Dream sleeps like the dead, but wakes with the dawn no matter what. He lingers in the warmth for a while before the sun’s light is too much to bear. Properly waking up to pain first thing in the morning is beginning to be a more and more common occurrence. His legs pulse with every beat of his heart, and his side isn’t much better. There’s a few droplets of blood on the sheets, which is what finally gets him to untangle himself from the mess of limbs that snaked around him in the night. 

George stirs lightly, but it’s unlikely he’ll truly wake before eight. Dream gently tugs at the arms around his neck, and they retract with a sleepy, confused mumble.

“I have to change these bandages.” Dream whispers against his temple. 

George makes an agreeable noise before moving to hug his pillow instead. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Dream spends the morning planning his mental itinerary. But also, redressing his wounds, and trying to figure out what to do with his legs. Salve, maybe. A healing potion, but he’s running low and wants to save them for an emergency. Besides, he took a few sips when it happened. It should be fine.

He’s supposed to get up now and meet with Punz. And then work on the book, and then go here and do this, and patrol that. But his legs just won’t move. 

He thinks, maybe for one day, he can spend it doing nothing. Besides, he actually is wounded. He does need to recoup. It’s not an excuse, yeah?

He wants to make it up to George. He’s not much of a romantic, and really he sucks shit at being a boyfriend, but he knows one thing that always makes George smile. The big toothy kind that makes his cheeks pink. He wants to see it before he has to get back to work.

Dream leaves a note on his side of the bed telling him that when he wakes up he should go to the hill outside. The one with the big tree.

Dream hobbles himself to the florist. He hopes that with his mask and baggy clothes, Niki won’t notice his limping. A dozen red roses. By the time he’s gotten there and halfway back, he’s convinced himself he’s walked off his bruising. 

Under the oak tree on the hill overlooking the castle, Dream spies a red cape blowing in the wind, and the glint of gold. The person faraway raises a hand over their eyes to peer, then uses his entire arm to wave at him hugely. It makes Dream laugh. 

They hurry to meet each other. George just seems excited to see him, like he always seems to be, except late at night when he’s already too angry. George doesn’t leave the shade, but he holds out his hands for Dream to take so he can pull him up the hill. Dream gives him one arm, the other holding the bouquet behind his back. 

“Wow. You’re actually in the sun. I never see that.”

“I got you something. I’m, uh, making it up to you.”

George pauses, wide eyed, trying to lean to see what’s behind his back. 

“It’s not a puppy, right?”

“What? No. What? Why would I get you a puppy?” Dream keeps turning to keep him from seeing. He can feel his own smile cracking his face. 

“I don’t know, I got scared! Now gimme.” George tries to blindly reach behind him. Dream grabs his wrist and pulls him close, wrapping an arm around his waist. George smiles at him smugly.

“Not even a thank you or anything?”

“I don’t know what it is yet, idiot. You haven’t given it to me.” George’s busy hands settle for pushing his mask up, instead. The breeze feels cool on the light layer of sweat that’s formed on his forehead. George smiles warmly at his face. It’s a smile Dream doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. But not the exact one he’s aiming for.

Dream’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Ohh, you want me to give it to you? Here? Outside??”

“Oh, shut up! Show me. I demand it. As your king.” He tilts his head regally, crown glinting in the light that’s casted through the leaves. Dream almost forgets they ever had a fight at all.

Dream pulls the flowers from behind his back and presses them to George’s chest. He tries to give him a smile with it, but knows it probably looks a bit forced. George doesn’t seem to notice at all, face erupting into a smile nearly immediately. The smile. Dream can’t help but stare.

Dream thinks this must be what sunbathing is meant to feel like.

“Dream! I love it. I looove it.” George hugs them close, still beaming. Dream thinks he understands religion. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Huh? Oh. I’m sucking up.”

George laughs. Takes a brief break, then laughs again. “You’re so stupid.”

“I wanted to cheer you up.” Dream rubs his thumb on his side idly, soaking in the feeling. 

“You derailed your whole day just to get me flowers?”

“Uhhh, well. I canceled my whole day to recover from my grievous wounds. My life threatening injuries. Oh no. “ Dream spins them a bit dramatically, just to make George laugh. There’s a few rose petals on the ground.

“Oh, you need someone to kiss it bett– wait, really?”

“Yeah, really. Hey, what was that you were offering just now?”

“You’re not doing anything today?”

Dream shakes his head. George’s face lights up. 

“Stay!” He blurts, “You should stay. Stay here. With me. I’ll kiss the stupid boo-boos better.”

“I don’t have anywhere better to be.” Dream shrugs, casual, aloof. “And I like kisses. Sure.”

Unexpectedly, lips crash into his. All of George’s weight crashes into him, really. Arms snake around his neck, and he tries to support them both before he realizes George is trying to make them fall. He goes limp, letting George tackle him into the grass. George is still kissing him. He pulls Dream’s neck to the side, which Dream allows because he hadn’t realized they were on the edge of the hill.

He yells into George’s mouth as they go tumbling, wrapping his arms around George’s head to make sure he doesn’t hit it. Someone is laughing, maybe both of them, as they spin and spin and spin and leave a trail of petals behind. 

The world finally comes to a stop with George cradled on top of him, gloved hand still covering the back of his head. 

George sits up, looming over Dream’s face, laughing like the whole world is laughing with him. Dream might have gotten the wind knocked out of him. The sun is eclipsed by George’s hair, a halo hanging behind him. His actual crown has probably rolled further away, but neither of them can care about such stupid things when there’s so much in front of them. 

Dream breaks the mirage to sit up and kiss him. Then kiss him again. There’s a buzzing in his back pocket, but it’s tomorrow’s problem. 

Today, the world loves red roses and fits in the curve of his arms.

[hbdttg]

Eddie, or something that used to be Eddie, wanders the Upside Down in the aftermath of it all.

He may not know where or who he is, but he knows he belongs. His heartbeat syncs with those of the screeching creatures that soar up above. The thrumming in his veins mirrors the pulsing of the vines that cover the ground at his feet. The hunger at his core is shared by the flower-faced beasts that roam the earth on all fours. He belongs, so he must be home.

Weeks after waking—or months, or years; time is unpredictable in this place, moving at whatever speed it so chooses, sometimes not moving at all—Eddie happens upon a gate. It's located on Morehead Street and small enough that he might have walked right past it if not for its peculiar orange glow.

Curious, Eddie digs his clawed fingers into its center, tearing through the viscous membrane until there's enough space for him to crawl through. He drags his scarred body through the tiny opening, dropping onto the other side with practiced grace. He finds himself atop what appears to be a crumbling staircase, overlooking a decrepit landscape that stretches on for miles.

Gone are the blue-gray skies, replaced with hazy red, roiling fog, and flashes of vibrant lightning. Gone is the air damp with rot, replaced with a sticky blanket of humidity and the scent of acrid smoke so thick he can taste it on his tongue.

Eddie descends the staircase, heedless of the wet squelch his shoe makes when he steps through a puddle of black, oily liquid at the bottom. Intrigued, he runs a pale hand lightly over a nearby tower of stalagmite. The place is littered with them, pointed spires made of knotted, dormant vines.

Eddie steps toward one of the larger spires, taking in the figure encased in its vines. It's a human girl, fair-haired and slight in stature, held upright against her tower by large, twisted tendrils. There's no life in her, just the stench of death and decay.

For a fleeting moment, Eddie thinks he might know her. But that's impossible. He knows only his brethren, knows only their chitters in the dark and their shrieks overhead.

He turns away from the girl, staunchly ignoring the deja vu that grips him as he walks away from her. It unsettles him, that niggling feeling he's missing something important here.

Without warning, a bell begins to toll, its ominous knell crashing through the air like thunder. The distant sound of footsteps reaches his ears next, accompanied by heavy, panting breaths and the occasional hissed curse.

Eddie conceals himself behind a partially standing wall, peering through its broken glass windows in search of his interloper. He spies a figure approaching, running through the fog in a zig zag pattern, as though trying to evade something. As the figure gets closer and Eddie can make out more of its features, he realizes it's a boy, carrying a bat embedded with nails and dressed in a brown leather jacket underneath a battered denim vest.

Denim vest?

Eddie doesn't have time to dwell on the vague sense of familiarity that flashes through him at the sight of this boy—of the vest—because the fog and miasma behind him slowly start to clear, revealing a large, gnarled creature walking calmly after him.

"Why do you run from me, Steven?" the creature says, its voice sinister and seductive, a long-stemmed rose laden with thorns. "You asked me to find you. You begged to be mine. Because you know, Steve, that only I can end your suffering."

The boy skids to a halt beside the body of the girl. He whirls around to face the creature, throwing an arm up to point at her remains. "End my suffering like you ended Chrissy's?"

Steve? Chrissy?

The creature laughs, an ugly, croaking sound that sends shivers up Eddie's spine. "She is beautiful now," it croons. "And you will be, too, once you join us."

And that confuses Eddie. Because despite his dirtied appearance, windswept hair, sweat-slicked face, and scarred neck, the boy before him is already beautiful.

"You want me?" the boy—Steve—spits as he brings both hands together, knuckles going white as he tightens them around the handle of his bat. He raises it between him and the creature, widening his stance and shifting his weight between his feet in anticipation of a fight. "Come and get me!"

As soon as the words leave his lips, the vines at his feet spring to life, shooting up and thrusting him back against a nearby spire. The force of it visibly knocks the breath out of Steve, but he was apparently expecting something like this, because he managed to bring one hand up to the level of his eye before he was fully immobilized, trapping his wrist in the hold one of the vines has against his neck.

"Poor, foolish Steve," the creature says, slowly approaching him. It huffs out a derisive laugh as it steps over the fallen nail bat, then reaches out a thrawn, leathery hand, hovering it over Steve's face, clawed fingers curling as if to grasp him, puncture him. "You cannot run from me."

Steve gasps and struggles against his binds, but goes still when something new resounds through the air—the sudden blare of an electric guitar, followed by a series of deep and distorted notes that Eddie can feel in his very bones.

Drums come crashing in, loud and unapologetic, and he revels in the sheer power of it all, letting the music wash over him and set his nerves alight.

"Try and stay very still," the creature murmurs, giving the noise no mind. "It will all be over soon."

Slowly, Steve's brows unfurrow and he actually smiles. "Yes, it will," he manages to choke out, the challenge in his voice apparent despite its compromised state, "but not in the way you think."

As if on cue, a voice rings out, rough and raspy and angry and perfect above the thunderous melody that fills the air. The words are familiar, seared in Eddie's mind like a memory. Without a doubt, he knows this song. If only he could remember how he knows it.

With the voice comes a gate, though it's unlike the one Eddie came in through. Its edges are wispy, like the fog itself cleared to make an opening, and he can see clearly through it to the other side.

The scene features three unconscious bodies. The first is Steve's, wearing a set of headphones and levitating several feet off the ground. The second is a young girl's, floating in a bathtub with a blindfold tied around her head. The third is a boy's, slumped over the side of the tub with his fingers intertwined with the girl's.

A gaggle of children are split between them, some kneeling by the tub and others standing below Steve, jumping and screaming up at him. Their faces are so familiar. Eddie wishes he could place them. But all he has to go on are the frantic pounding of his heart and the bone-deep feeling that these people, these strangers, are important.

There are older kids scattered about, too, one of which has her hands wrapped around Steve's ankle, yelling as she tries to keep him tethered. Her voice is muffled, but Eddie can make out her panicked, "That's enough, dingus, it's time to come back! They've got it from here!"

The song swells, powerful and ferocious, and Eddie feels the chords right in his very heartstrings. He looks down at his hands, watches some muscle memory react viscerally to the song's fury, watches his fingers start to curl as if itching to rest on a fretboard.

"This is for Eddie, you ugly son of a bitch!" Steve yells up at the creature. He manages to leverage a bit of space with his trapped hand, then—at the crest of an absolutely face-melting guitar solo—drops his head to take a huge, violent bite out of the vine wrapped around his neck.

Several things happen at once:

1) The creature—Vecna—rears back, affected enough by Steve's display of unhinged ferality that the vines loosen their grip on him. Steve bursts out of Vecna's hold and starts sprinting toward the gate.

2) Two figures materialize behind Vecna: the girl and the boy from the other side. He must be Will the Wise, in all his bowl-cut glory. And she must be Supergirl, if the way she blasts Vecna straight through a nearby wall is any indication.

3) Eddie fucking remembers.

He remembers Hawkins and the Upside Down. He remembers Vecna, and Chrissy, and nearly every single face on the other side of the gate.

He remembers Dustin sobbing over his dying body; he remembers Max offering up herself up as bait; he remembers Lucas turning on the basketball team to help his true friends; he remembers Erica thrusting a belt made of literal bullets into his hands; he remembers Nancy wielding a felonious shotgun into battle; he remembers Robin's knowing expression at hunt the freak. He remembers Mike Wheeler, and Jonathan Byers, and—well, not the long-haired guy next to Jonathan, but that's probably fine.

And of course, he remembers the boy who'd stripped off his yellow sweater and thrown it in Eddie's slack-jawed face, who'd worn Eddie's battle vest over his still-bleeding battle wounds, who'd walked side-by-side with Eddie in a forest full of danger and decay, who'd blushed so prettily when Eddie called him big boy, who'd held Eddie's gaze and warned him not to play hero.

Eddie remembers Steve.

Later, once they both tumble through the gate and end up on the ground in a pile of limbs, Eddie will groan low in his throat and try to untangle himself from Steve's heavy body. Steve, terrified that he might have brought something dangerous back with him, will twist on top of Eddie and nearly slam his head down into the tiled floor, stopping himself only once he realizes exactly who he has pinned under him.

Later, once the party finally stops screaming in response to Eddie's sudden appearance—to his literal resurrection—Steve will drag him into his chest and clutch desperately at his back, rocking their bodies back and forth in near-catatonic shock. Eddie will clutch him back just as tightly, drenching his shirt with hot, wet tears.

Later, after Vecna is reduced to mere dust and Eddie struggles to heal from his months of being trapped alone in an alternate dimension, he'll dial Steve's phone number in the dead of night just to hear another person's voice. Steve will talk about nothing and everything, hanging up only when he can hear Eddie's breaths slow and finally even out through the line.

Later, Steve will admit he purchased Metallica's record shortly after Eddie's supposed death, wanting to hear the song he played in the Upside Down, the legendary song he used to brand himself as bait before running off to protect Dustin and buy the rest of the party more time. Eddie will hide the pleased little thrill that rushes through him at Steve's admission by throwing an arm around him and insisting they'll make a metalhead of him yet.

Later, Eddie will bring the subject up again, curious to know how the song became Steve's Vecna song. Surely he had other options that he'd cherished for far longer than the several months he'd known Master of Puppets. Steve will quietly confess that the song made him think of Eddie, of a fiery, vibrant life snuffed out too soon. And though Steve made the mistake of not turning from the Creel house and running back to Eddie that night in the Upside Down, he knew if he'd ever have to fight for his life trapped in a Vecna mind prison, he'd do it right. He wouldn't for one second hesitate to run toward the song—to run toward Eddie.

Later, Steve will gently cup Eddie's cheek and press in, close enough that they both have to go slightly cross-eyed to keep eye contact, that they feel each other's nervous, shallow breaths in the space between them. Eddie will grapple with the slew of feelings swirling messily in his ribcage before his stubborn resolve wins out and he presses his lips against Steve's in a long overdue kiss.

Later, Steve and Eddie will fall in love. But now?

Now, Steve runs.

And Eddie, or the something that never truly stopped being Eddie, follows.

[toxinellebug]

Shadybug/Claw Noir Reverse Umbrella scene Headcanon

(aka “Emo Adrien’s origin story”)

EmoAdrien was always homeschooled, just like regular Adrien, but after his mother died, he wasn’t interested in studying, or anything for that matter… he just stayed cooped up in his room in the dark, watching the DVD copy of “Solitude” over and over.

Anyone with a brain knows that’s not healthy, and Gabriel regretted homeschooling Adrien all these years because if Adrien had better social skills he would have friends his own age to help him deal with his grief in ways Gabriel cannot.

As such, Adrien’s only “friend” is Chloe Bourgeois’ a terrible influence and not so much as a “friend” as an unwanted playmate who clings to Adrien like a lovestruck leech whenever Audrey comes to talk business.

Adrien doesn’t WANT to go to school… it’s just another change in his life, and change sucks!

He’s convinced the school’s curriculum won’t be anywhere near HIS level, plus he’ll have to deal with other students (he doesn’t mind signing autographs, but having to sit with and study alongside other people? Gross.)

But Gabriel insists it will be good for him (also, kids with connections to show business as well as other important families go there, so it’s not like he’s sending Adrien to some public school full of delinquents).

Gabriel even rides in the limo with Adrien on his first day, but Adrien runs off at the school’s gate, even knocking down some poor old man without stopping to apologize in his attempt to escape. Gabriel has to help the old man up and apologize on his son’s behalf, explaining that Adrien is going through a difficult time right now.

The second day, Adrien isn’t able to escape, and is forced to show up, where he has to put on a fake smile as Chloe escorts him around despite the fact that he is repulsed by her touch (but her mom is the Style Queen and she ruins the careers of anyone unlucky enough to be within her line of sight when she’s having a bad day, so he has no choice but to pretend to be Chloe’s friend).

Everyone gushes over him, as they should, (he takes after his Mother, after all) which is fine so long as they keep their distance.

Some punk in glasses named ‘Nino’ had the nerve to be sitting at the same desk that Chloe had reserved for Adrien, but with a stern look and a word, that kid moved real quick to sit next to some girl in glasses who was giving Chloe major stink eye.

Sitting by himself means no one can copy off Adrien’s work, because he’s not going to let some rando ride his scholastic coattails.

But even with a desk to himself, Adrien is annoyed; Everyone at this school seems to know each other and lump together in their own little cliques and friend groups, and he is expected to join in with Chloe and he little flunky/servant Sabrina- the daughter of an Enforcer (there are no police, only Enforcers of Supreme Law.)

Adrien doesn’t want to be friends, he doesn’t want to be in this school- if things can’t go back to the way they used to be, he’d rather just be left alone!!!

The last straw comes at the end of the day; it’s raining, and his umbrella, which he left in the designated spot near the exit, is gone!

What. The. HECK?!

And then he sees her; some pigtailed girl with a red streak in her hair and a dark jacket with thorny vines embroidered on it, wearing earbuds and holding an umbrella- HIS UMBRELLA!

This girl is a dirty little thief!

He calls out to her but either the music in her earbuds is too loud or she has the audacity to ignore him, either way, he plans on catching up to her, taking back his property, and ripping her a new one- this was the wrong day to tick him off!

But for some reason this crazy girl jaywalks across the street and hops the half-wall to walk down alongside the canal, which is insane because rumor has it some lunatic released a crocodile in there.

Still, he can’t just let her get away with it!

So he gives chase and calls out to this thieving witch and then it happens…

“Rain drops pouring down, the figure of a lone woman walks down alongside the canal, holding her umbrella. The only sound is her footsteps against the pavement, and a lonely piano sonata. Suddenly, she pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a curious yet melancholy smile and covetous eyes…”

Adrien is frozen to the spot and his voice sticks in his throat as the pigtailed umbrella thief glances back at him over her shoulder briefly, before shrugging and carrying on her merry way, fully immersed in her music without a care in the world.

Content in her peaceful solitude.

There is a rumble of thunder overhead and Adrien swallows the lump in his throat. There is a fluttering in his chest that is not at all unpleasant and his face feels abnormally warm.

There is a honking of a car horn and a frantic calling of his name. His father urges him inside the limo and fusses over Adrien being so soaked and goes on about him catching a cold and blah blah blah.

But Adrien can only think of the mysterious girl who has the same melancholy smile as his Mother…

(Marinette was annoyed because she didn’t want the rain to ruin her make-up but she forgot her umbrella. Luckily, some poor sucker had yet to claim theirs and you snooze you lose! But she was in no rush to go home and listen to her mom’s nagging so she chose to take the longer, more scenic route with the least amount of other people so she could enjoy her music and relish in her luck that this was FINALLY a year where she WASN’T in the same class as Chloe! She thought she heard something, but all she saw was some blond moron standing in the rain, so she shrugged it off).

Not able to ask around directly because A.) He has an image to uphold, and B.) Chloe would probably throw a tantrum, Adrien has to resort to stalking… aka bribing his body guard to follow the Pigtailed girl from a distance, and he learns that she lives and works in a local Bakery just walking distance away from the school.

Rather than going in and demanding his umbrella back, he decides she’s probably a shy but die-hard fan of his, therefore as a celebrity, there is nothing wrong with letting a fan keep a little souvenir, right?

She’s also a very cute fan… and the only other person in the whole school who looks as miserable as he feels. He likes how her sense of style seems to reflect his own emotions.

He starts having his driver stop by the bakery every day after his fencing practice to pick him up a little something, so he can “visit”… or, you know, stare at her through the shop window.

On his birthday, rather than doing their annual fancy dinner with his father, he gets Chloe to get him a walk-in appointment with her exclusive hair dresser, and he gets a haircut that he thinks is the style that baker-girl would like, and maybe even shock his father.

Gabriel is shocked since Adrien never mentioned getting his hair cut, but he doesn’t get angry; figuring all teens go through rebellious periods and perhaps this is just a way for his son to cope with his grief… So Gabriel starts designing fashions to match his son’s new look because in Gabriel’s mind, fashion is about adaptability.

(That mock turtle neck shirt and the long sleeves of the white leather jacket would prove useful in keeping things hidden.)

When Claw Noir’s powers start to take their toll on Adrien’s body, he takes inspiration from the cute Baker Girl and hides it with thick make-up.

Again, Gabriel is sure this new “Emo” look is just a phase Adrien needs to get out of his system, so he is a supportive father who makes sure his son has only the best black nail-polish and kohl eyeliner money can buy.

The new, bad-boy “Emo” look is also a hit with Adrien’s fans, and he is even praised in ‘Style’ magazine.

Despite this, the only time Adrien feels like his pain is truly understood, like he’s truly not alone, are those short but sweet moments he can gaze at that pretty Baker-girl from a distance.

He lacks the courage to actually go inside to speak to her, but he is certain his own solitude would feel less painful if he were alone with her.

*emo boy sighs longingly*

[thesummerstorms]

So the Apollo kids would have had a pretty massive burden during the Second Titanomachy.

Ares kids are typically your front line fighters, Athena kids are most often your strategists, Hermes kids are likely your scouts and saboteurs and thieves, Hephaestus kids are mostly going to be your weapon smiths. All of those are crucial to a war effort, even if not every member of the cabin proves skilled in that specific aspect of their parent's domains.

But Apollo kids have a really, really crucial triple whammy: prophecy, archery, and healing. (And pity the poor Apollo kid who mostly got musical or poetic talent, or a talent for sussing out truth and logic, but is now forced to step up and fill those shoes!)

Prophecy is probably the least prominent; we don't see any Apollo kids blessed with prophetic gifts beyond the normal demigod dreams that I can remember, but maybe they're off screen or maybe instead they're really good at helping other Campers interpret those prophetic nightmares. Even if that's not true, the potential of an Apollo kid being able to glean crucial information via prophecy is probably enough of a threat to put a target on their backs.

But that's not all! They also have archery, aka the Camp's best supply of ranged fighters/ranged support, and medicine, on which a war can be lost or won. Monsters regenerate, but humans don't. If you don't have medics to treat your injured and dying, you're going to run out of forces.

The thing is, I don't think logically it makes sense for them to be the only ones practicing medicine and archery in Camp. A lot of the time it's easier to keep things simple and make any archer or healer an Apollo character. But not all of his kids are going to be good at archery or healing! Or one of those might be their secondary talent, in the way Will is a poorer archer than his siblings but the best of the healers.

According to Wikipedia, Apollo's domains included oracles/prophecy, healing, archery, music, dancing, poetry, light, the sun, knowledge, law, herds and flocks, and protection of the young, and the protection of public streets/places. Even if he had the most children other than the Hermes cabin, you still are potentially going to see a very WIDE range of talents! Someone is probably going to be good at dance and music and debating technicalities and barely passible at first aid.

And even aside from that, they absolutely still needed archers and medics for the war against Gaia... But by that point the Cabin was down to just Will, Austin, and Kayla.

Luckily most of the direct conflict was constrained to just the final Battle of Half-Blood Hill. (Ignoring any individual skirmishes that might have happened between individual demigods and monsters, particularly during the time Thanatos was chained.) But even in the planning stage having one medic, one archer, and a third person who might be a medic or an archer or split between both or neither and that being the support for the whole camp makes no tactical sense.

I feel like even if Apollo kids are the best at archery or medicine when that's where their talent/focus is, they must be supplemented by other campers who either have trained in that skill or whose parents domain can overlap with it in some small way.

Miranda Gardiner who trains in archery rather than blades because she feels at home in the trees or growing vines to climb in order to find higher ground.

Jake Mason who trains in archery because his hands are too important to his work to risk being the one swinging the close range weapons rather than swinging them. (He also makes really good bows.)

A Demeter kid who grew up hunting and foraging and now finds they have a knack for herbal medicine beyond what a mortal could accomplish. No, they aren't going to be performing emergency surgery, but they're good at helping manage the chills and colds and fevers that come when a bunch of children are crammed together in close quarters.

An Aphrodite kid whose skill at reading emotions allows them to calm distressed patients, whose empathy leads them to want to help, and whose dedicated practice gives them steady hands while they stitch the wounds that can't or shouldn't be healed with nectar and ambrosia.

You can apply this to other demigods and domains too! A child of Athena who's interested in the intersection of textiles, armor, and battle strategy and works extensively in workshops with the Hephaestus kids. An Ares kid who speaks with command and instills courage and is often pulled into the Athena strategy meetings so they can relay the plan in a more effective or inspiring way.

Just in general, I think in order to make it through two wars (three? Are we counting TOA as a war?? The Romans did get hit hard) the Camp probably has to be a little less specialized and more integrated than it might seem at first glance, even if you still have your "stereotypical" examples of the children of a specific god.

[phen397]

Sonic adventure 2 but told through notes I took while playing part2 electric Boogaloo

OK here we go again

Tails in the Chao garden is too cute

Love the way his tails sway and flop on the ground

Feed the children all the tubes

Only one though

He will be the most drugged up Chao at the races

OK

Time to leave

Sonic in jail

Amy from the sky

Have no fear Amy rose is here

How did she get that key card

"That black hedgehog"? Amy please come see me after class

Marry me if I tell?

Did sonic write the stuff in the walls

Nah he too dumb for all that math

Who built these ramps and loops in the middle of the ocean?

Guess gun did since their name is on everything

Thanks omachao I didn't know how to do a homing attack

Cuccked by a bot phasing put of existence

Can I just not hit ghost bot?

No omachao I haven't tried using the light dash I don't even have that yet

Oh hey light dash shoes

Go fast on rings

Lots of peacocks in this level

The seal is so cute look at him

Rocket time

Bigger rocket

I gotta ride it!?

Oh snap

To space baby

Oh God he jumped

Where did this stuff come from

Snowboard down tube to goal

Sonic seems to like taking panels off of gun's stuff

I am sure they aren't important

New gate in Chao space

The kindergarten

I am going to go get apple sauce and have a nap

Oh it seems to be empty

Little drawings of chaos on the walls

Wonder if these where drawn by fans

Chao bulletin board

What browser?

Different doors for things

Can't do anything cause I didn't bring a Chao

I am a teen just wandering around a kindergarten

Not weird at all

Let me talk to the principal

Lots to say

Now how do I get my Chao here?

Poor all the animals and tubes into one Chao

What could go wrong?

Maybe if I pick up a Chao and leave I can take him to the kindergarten

Nope

Next level time

In the forest

So far so good

Hi shadow I mean faker

Not even good enough to be my fake

"I'LL MAKE YOU EAT THOSE WORDS" damn sonic let the man finish

Time to fight shadow

Did he just say he is the coolest?

Shit I fell

Wait for him to land after his attack then hit him

Do you even know who I am

Green forest

Yes

Yes it is

Close your mouth shadow please

Island gonna blow up

Soundtrack picking up for this epic race against death

Oh yea Amy and tails are here too I guess

8 minutes till boom

Epic vine swings

Love my naturally growing springs

Level done

More tubes for the child

Let's see how the child has grown

Race time

Mushroom forest this time round

Look at my child go

Not dead last so doing good

Ha some tripped

Cheer em on

3rd place thanks to a trip right at the end

Try again?!

So I need to win huh?

Fine I will be back

Island blowing up cutscene

Plane flies away

Pumpkin hill

Getting jiggy with it

Place feels haunted

Knuckles time

Shovel claws

I can dig now

I can dig up Graves

Ghosts not happy

This place feels familiar

How train why train?

Found all 3

Eggman psa

Creepy child

Eggman empire

Egg face in space

The ark

Laser beam

NOT THE MOON

24 hours

Gang saw it all

How did he get all that energy

Chaos emerald

Talis has one just cause

I am sure you saying something important tails but I can't hear you over the sound of your theme song blasting my eardrums out

Oh shoot the popo

Yes Amy you are an accomplis now

No backing out now

Ah yes mission Street

Right next to objective lane

If you hit side quest ally you went to far

Tails level

Gonna get so many tubes

Boosters

Fly high?

More like hover mid

Okay

Okay

Okay

Okay

Okay

Thanks tails

More tubes for the child

All for now But next time I don't know maybe the child attends class or smth idfk

[fastcardotmp3]

truman show esque "trapped in a reality you think is The reality when it is, in fact, just an experiment in which you are the subject" situation except when Steve gets dragged through the gate at Lover's Lake, when the rest of them follow him into the Upside Down, it's like the place has been adapting since the last time any of their people were here.

The Upside Down made itself into a mirror of Hawkins for a boy who it wanted to keep, but it didn't do so great the first time around. Vines and thick air and cold, it may have memorized the map of the place it was emulating, but it never quite got the details right.

The thing is, it's had time to learn. It was in Will's head, for fuck's sake, took over the bodies of countless Hawkins residents during the Starcourt fiasco of '85, so by the time Spring Break of '86 rolls around, the Upside Down knows.

It's a living thing and it knows better how to be a mirror, how to maybe better keep that boy here next time it gets ahold of him. Only before Will Byers has the chance to stumble his way back through one of the gates being created just for him, just for him and his sister, there are four others who are maybe a good trial run.

It's confusing for them, on the other side of being dragged to the bottom of a lake. It's confusing because it actually looks like Hawkins, smells like it, the water is the same in the lake and the mud feels the same on the shore.

It's less like being dragged to the bottom at all, actually, because the water makes them weightless, makes the transition disorienting rather than a clear crossing between worlds, so when they resurface and it looks the same it's. It's not the Upside Down the way Steve saw it in the tunnels, it's not the Upside Down the way Will or Joyce or Hopper or El described it.

Maybe there are hints and clues out and about-- unnatural chill for the season and tree roots that kick up out of the earth a bit more frequently, a haze to both nighttime and daylight that makes it feel gray and-- artificial almost? But none of that is enough to combat the sense of disorientation, the knowledge in their heads of what the UD actually looks like, and there's this fog in their heads...

There's this fog...

Their people aren't on the shore waiting for them under that starless night sky, but that's actually-- were there people waiting here for them at all?

It was just the four of them, right? It was just--

There are people here, when they decide to, um, "how did you hurt yourself, Steve? We need to-- shit, that needs to be disinfected, like, yesterday."

Robin's worried about rabies but Steve reminds her, "that's an animals thing, I just, like, fell on, uh-- those rocks at the lake? When we were swimming?"

It's too hard to question why they all went swimming in their clothes when it's this cold and dark. The fog is-- it's thick but also untraceable, it's like trying to make a logical decision in the middle of the most absurd of dreams.

It's like darkness encroaching in on your vision when you're involuntarily losing consciousness...

There are people here, when they decide to go find a first aid kit at Nancy's place because it's closest. There are a handful of cars driving around town, Mrs. Brady putting out her trash down the street when they sneak past.

Mrs. Brady, she was-- she is-- she-- but last summer during the-- the issue with-- there was a whole thing and she di--

Nancy's parents are out.

Steve's bites scrapes are oozing and painful and Nancy slaps at Eddie's hand when he tries to snoop at her diary.

The sun rises. The sun only just set. There are people here but they're-- were there people waiting for them on the shore?

There was something, some reason, why they were at the lake and that's important. That has to be important, somewhere beyond the fog.

When they fall asleep in the light of a too-quick morning, like the sun turned on rather than rose, it's not weird that there's no one else in the Wheeler house.

"Stop looking at me, I can feel you," Robin mutters as she dozes off to sleep on the bed beside Nancy, the boys on a spare mattress on the floor.

Everyone else is already asleep.

[paramedicabroad]

Upper Middle Rhine Valley

Today, we’re diving into the heart of Germany to explore the breathtaking Upper Middle Rhine Valley, a region that’s more than just a picturesque landscape—it’s a UNESCO World Heritage site steeped in history, culture, and natural beauty.

In 2002, the Upper Middle Rhine Valley was recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site for its outstanding cultural landscape. The designation highlights the valley’s significance as a crossroads of history, art, and nature. The region’s preservation as a cultural landscape ensures that this unique blend of natural beauty and human achievement remains protected for future generations.

The Upper Middle Rhine Valley, stretching for about 65 kilometers between the cities of Bingen and Koblenz, is one of the most scenic stretches of river in the world. The Rhine River winds its way through steep, vineyard-covered hills, dotted with charming medieval towns, imposing castles, and romantic ruins. This landscape has inspired poets, artists, and composers for centuries, and it’s easy to see why.

One of the most striking features of the Upper Middle Rhine Valley is the incredible concentration of castles. There are more than 40 castles and fortresses along this stretch of the Rhine, each with its own story to tell. Some of the most famous include the medieval Marksburg Castle, which has never been destroyed, and the picturesque Rheinfels Castle, a massive ruin that once controlled much of the Rhine's trade.

No visit to the Upper Middle Rhine Valley would be complete without mentioning the Lorelei, a towering rock formation that has become one of the most famous symbols of the Rhine. According to legend, the Lorelei was a siren who lured sailors to their doom with her enchanting song. Today, visitors flock to this spot to take in the stunning views of the river and imagine the legends of old.

The valley is home to several historic towns and villages that seem frozen in time. Bacharach, with its half-timbered houses and vine-covered hills, is a favorite among visitors. St. Goar, situated at the foot of the Rheinfels Castle, offers panoramic views of the river and the surrounding landscape. And then there’s Rüdesheim, known for its lively wine taverns and the famous Drosselgasse, a narrow street filled with music and merriment.

The Upper Middle Rhine Valley isn’t just about castles and legends; it’s also one of Germany’s premier wine regions. The steep slopes are lined with vineyards that produce some of the best Riesling in the world. Many of the towns along the Rhine host wine festivals, where you can sample local vintages, enjoy traditional music, and soak in the convivial atmosphere.

The valley’s history dates back thousands of years, with traces of Roman settlements, medieval fortresses, and Renaissance architecture. This area has been a key transportation route for centuries, and its strategic importance is reflected in the fortifications that line the riverbanks. Exploring the Upper Middle Rhine Valley is like taking a journey through time, with each castle, town, and vineyard telling a piece of the story.

Visiting the Upper Middle Rhine Valley is an experience that combines history, nature, and culture in a way few other places can. Whether you’re cruising down the Rhine, hiking the hills, or exploring the quaint towns and castles, you’ll find yourself captivated by the valley’s timeless charm. And don’t forget to raise a glass of local Riesling to toast to the beauty of this UNESCO World Heritage site.

The Upper Middle Rhine Valley is more than just a scenic destination—it’s a living testament to the enduring connection between people and the landscape. If you’re planning a trip to Germany, make sure to carve out time to explore this enchanting valley.🏰🍇🇩🇪

[evilsoup]

zone of interest: good film, deserves all the awards it's getting. the film-maker's video art installation background really shines through, lots of long static shots, repetition, creative manipulation of the type of recording used. The praise the sound design got is also very well deserved.

an interesting aspect is the depiction of Mrs Hoss' mother. She is of course an anti-semite and nazi, but i think uniquely within the film she feels the need to articulate her anti-semitism with reference to the jewish woman who used to hire her as a cleaner, how she took part in the "street auction" for this woman's personal possessions and is only disappointed that she got outbid for her curtains. It's like she has to prove her legitimacy to her daughter. On the other hand, for the Hosses the holocaust is simply the thing that they are doing -- they don't need to find a way to morally justify it. They are not bothered by the sounds of industrial slaughter, unlike this pathetic old woman; she approaches antisemitism as something external to her, which she has entered into; for them it is something that they are the bearers of, the theory which structures the world and which they are putting into practice. There is an important point about how ideologies operate and can evolve, and not only racist ideologies.

i don't think it's exactly saying anything new, but it's an accesable depiction of the concept of the banality of evil. Of course the commandant of auschwitz is both a monster and a normal person, with his monstrousness grounded in his normalcy, and the same is true of his wife. The actress playing Mrs Hoss is especially good at depicting this. An early scene is her trying on clothes taken from the new arrivals at the camp -- this isn't the story about repression which i was basically expecting. She knows what's going on, the kids know what's going on, but for all of them it's just a part of life -- part of the process of building their new life in the east, ugly because it's not yet complete, like the vines she's planted to grow over one part of the garden. And of course we have the high-level management meeting discussing the extermination of the jews of hugary, the form of which will be familiar to anyone who's attended a management meeting.

These peop|e did not shock me exactly, but they did disgust me. What it actually put me in mind of was the mindset of a terrorist: such people, carrying out this industrial slaughter with a smug self-confidence, should be made to die. If that would mean hurting their kids in the process, so be it. The disguting nature of their existence in the world is such that some innocent deaths would be a price worth paying to remove them from it. Given the affect of the film -- it's clearly meant to induce a sense of brechtian alienation, drawing deliberate attention to its status as a film -- acheiving this emotional outcome is a remarkable acheivement.

[synthetictorii]

We Don't Sleep At Night ✧ Hitoshi Shinso

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinso x reader Genre: fluff Summary: You can't sleep and neither can your friend. Your nightly walk takes a turn that changes your relationship. Word count: 5.1k A/N: ...obligatory old and cringey fic ahead warning...

 ��   You tossed and turned in your bed, blanket long discarded on the floor. Your window was opened wide, letting the fresh air and noise from the street below into your room. You were currently counting stars, before that you counted all windows you could see, imagined yourself jumping from one roof to another and briefly wondered if it was possible to go insane with boredom. Nothing felt satisfying, no stupid mobile game could entertain you neither could songs, funny vine compilations or fanfictions. Was this how psychopaths are made? You tugged at your hair and rubbed your face roughly. You felt your sanity slowly slipping through your fingers. Maybe you should at least wave it goodbye.

  That’s when your phone buzzed on the floor where you had threw it after you found out that it didn’t contain magical solution to your insomnia. Well, doesn’t matter, you can keep your sanity for a while longer you decided. With a sigh you rolled over and reached to the floor, grabbing your phone. Green light flickered on top of it signalling an unread message. You smirked contently, already guessing who the one texting you would be. The screen lit up after you pushed the button and sure enough, there it was – a message. You opened it with bated breath.

From: Frickin’ Savior

Text: You up?

  Your grin only got wider. No one but you would know who the text was from, which was exactly the purpose of the nickname. Nobody would guess that the savior in this case was Shinsō Hitoshi, the mysterious boy from general studies who never spoke to anyone. Or at least that was how it seemed. And it was super important to keep it that way. Well, to him at least. You wouldn’t actually mind if others knew about your friendship. Though it sure was more romantic like this; like a forbidden romance bloomed between you or something. This part was actually a secret to Hitoshi too. But shhhh, he mustn’t know.

To: Frickin’ Savior

Text: Very much! I’m about to claw my eyes out! What are you up to?!

  Your fingers speeded across the keyboard and hit send. It was a little routine of yours – if one of you couldn’t fall asleep, and it happened more often than could be considered healthy, you’d text the other to see if they were up as well and then something happen. Something also meaning potentially nothing in case that the other was asleep somehow. But it also could mean night adventure, phone call led in whisper so you wouldn’t wake your parents or sending each other shitposts or random thoughts you had. You treasured every single one of those sessions you had over the last six months. If it wasn’t for him, you’d probably have jumped out the window long time ago just to stop the never ending cycle of exhaustion and staring into the ceiling. If you wake up at a different time in a different place, could you wake up as a different person? You remembered the famous Fight Club quote. Yeah, one night you and Hitoshi watched Fight Club together – each in your own home and room but facetiming the whole time. It was super romantic. Your phone buzzed again.

From: Frickin’ Savior

Text: Brown in five.

  You clenched the phone in your hands, grinning like a maniac. You jumped from your bed and took your night attire off, changing into your most beloved pair of jeans with holes that looked like wild animal tore them and [f/c] t-shirt with graffiti pattern on it. It was summer and nights were hot enough to wear just this. You quietly sneaked out of your room and took your favourite pair of shoes and your keys. Then you went back to your room again and put on the shoes. You climbed to the tree right next to your window and then down. Your parents absolutely mustn’t know that you sneaked out again. At least not until you left the house. Then they couldn’t do much but scold you again when you returned. So now you were safe. You let out a content sigh and ran excitedly to the meeting point. It was a small fountain in the middle of crossroad, not much far from your house neither the U.A. dorms he lived in, with a sculpture of demon and angel fighting in the middle. You once said that it reminded you of Dan Brown’s novel Angles & Demons and the name Brown just stuck with it. You were lucky to find another bookworm and befriend him, although your friendship was a secret.

  It wasn’t that Hitoshi or you would be ashamed of the relation but your relative classes, him being in 1-C and you in 1-D, were cruel to you as it was since you both had a quirk that would be perfect for a villain or so they said. Your quirk was The Lie, you could tell a lie and the victim or victims would believe you whole-heartedly, the only catch being that something about your appearance would change slightly. The effect disappeared when someone pointed that little change out. And as was the case with Hitoshi’s quirk, it would also be a great quirk for a hero but wasn’t good enough against robots on the U.A. hero class exams. So this little agreement you had between each other was to protect yourselves from more teasing and bullying. That was actually how you two met in the first place.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

  It was second or third week of school, late afternoon. You were just about to head home when two huge guys pinned you against the lockers, hand already covering your mouth – since “You don’t wanna do this” is also a lie. You were smart, no doubt about that, but not strong. It was fairly easy for them to shove you into janitor’s room. You put up a fight though, biting fingers of one of the boys hard, which got you nowhere but he made sure to leave nasty purple bruises on your arms in return. You didn’t have enough time to march back to the door and bang them when they swung open and unknown indigo haired boy made the same messy entrance as you a while ago, they pushed him backwards and slammed the door close. “We caught the bad guys, yeah!” One of the guys outside shouted. “Yeah! But aren’t we too nice to them, giving them seven minutes in heaven,” the whole group bursting into laughter. “Hey! Let us out!” The boy screamed back and kicked the door. But there was no response, only the laughter got quieter as the guys walked away. “Damnit,” he cursed and banged his head against the door. “It’s easier to bruise your arms y’know? It’d still match your hair,” you said while examining the marks on your own arms, startling the boy who didn’t notice your presence. “Ah, sorry, I thought you’d get the seven minutes reference,” you smirked at his surprised expression. He scoffed and scratched his nape. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you,” he looked away and sighed. “Think they’ll let us out?” He asked and sat down with his back leaning against the door. You simply shrugged. “Maybe?” With only about a meter separating you from him you got a clear view of his features, his sharp jawline and high cheekbones, purple eyes with dark bags under them. His hair created somewhat messy crown on his head. He was very attractive and whoever dared to say otherwise was lying.

  He didn’t seem to be much of a talker, simply sitting on his spot and staring to the side. You however were bored and liked talking to people, especially if the person was a pretty boy. “So I guess you’re a villain of your class too?” You asked and his response was almost immediate. “Too?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Ah, you didn’t hear. I’m [l/n] [y/n], the main villain of the class 1-D, nice to meet you. Nobody would talk to me because I can make other believe anything I say and they’re too stupid to figure out how to see through it,” you made a little bow with a smile. “And you?” You tried, the boy looking away again. “Why would I tell you that? You lost a huge advantage by telling me that,” he murmured emotionlessly. “Well, I’m not going to use my ability on fellow student and villain, am I?” You shrugged again. The boy was silent for a while, then sighed. “Shinsō Hitoshi, 1-C, if you answer me I can force you to do anything,” he looked at you from the corner of his eyes. Your jaw dropped in awe. “That’s so cool!” You grinned and then you suddenly froze, unable to move your body. Your senses were intact though so you saw the illegally handsome smirk the boy’s lips curled into. And then everything returned to normal. “Well, that’s what I call a missed chance. You’re locked here with me away from everyone and this is all you do?” You teased, hoping to make the boy talk. Spoiler: it worked. He let out a breathy laugh. “Everyone is super wary to talk to me and you just say this? Are you stupid or what?” He seemed to be super socially awkward but you didn’t mind. After all you had all the time until someone let you out to teach him. “I just thought it was interesting decision for someone as bad as they think,” you gave him a small smile and there it was again, the inability to control your body. This time though he let you go quicker. “See! I bet deep down you’re a sweetheart,” you smiled cheerfully. “I’ll do it until you stay quiet,” he warned you with a hint of mischievous glint in his eyes. You decided that if it will bring out more emotions of him, it’s worth it. “I always have a lot to say, so good luck,” as the last word rolled off your tongue, your motion froze. “And what if I just leave you like this?” This time you counted the time until he let you go: 13 seconds. “Challenge accepted!” You beamed and made sure to make the most stupid face you could pull off – and it worked, you lost control just as you finished the masterpiece. His stoic face changed completely, he actually burst out laughing even if just for a second or two. Even after that there was a small hint of smile on his lips. 7 seconds. “What the hell was that?” He asked, chuckle escaping him. “I just thought that if you were to look at my frozen face I might as well make it worth it,” you explained with a happy grin and lost control. “Now I could actually handle looking at you,” he smirked. 15 seconds. “Are you calling me pretty?” You gasped.

“I still didn’t take back that ‘stupid’, so I’m calling you that.” 10 seconds. “Now that is really mean.” Pout.

“I’m a villain after all, ain’t I?” 20 seconds. “You almost scared me there.” Relieved breath.

“Almost?” 25 seconds. “You’d get bored without me so I figured you’d let me go eventually.” Grin.

“I prefer silence, so why should I get bored?” 40 seconds. “Because you must be really nice when you stop with this jerkish act and want someone to talk to you without fear.” Friendly smile.

“What if I really am not?” Full minute and thirty seconds. “Well, then I’d get to look at your handsome face so I’d still win.” Wink.

0 seconds.

  You looked at him confusedly, little sad that your little playtime was over. The hint of pink on his cheeks and sheepish look full of doubt he shot you made up for it perfectly though so you didn’t mind. “That wasn’t a lie by the way, as you can see, nothing about me changed,” you finger gunned him with another wink. “So that’s your secret?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Please don’t tell anyone, I kinda enjoy them being afraid of me,” you were the one to look away this time. The count started. “Ha! I got ya!” He smirked and stretched. You cursed yourself mentally for not being able to see the movement of his muscles. “Now I have no reason to let you go, do I? Oh I forgot, you can’t talk.” He clicked his tongue. 32 seconds. “See, there’s a reason - you’d miss my voice! I don’t blame you, I know it’s highly addictive,” you sighed under the huge burden, making him roll his eyes. But he didn’t make you freeze. “Seriously, why shouldn’t I tell anyone? Give me one good reason,” he leaned his head on the door as well. “I’ll be your best friend if you don’t. And I’m really good at it!” He gave you amused look. “Hey, it’s true! You can call me anytime and I’ll pick up! If not, the insomnia probably got me and I’m dead, but that just happens,” you sighed dramatically. Something in his look changed though, most notably his direction, now away from you. “Well, insomnia buddy could be nice,” he muttered almost inaudibly. Your face beamed with happiness. “Then we have a deal!” You shouted excitedly and shifted closer to him, extending a hand for him to shake. Instead of taking it he looked at the bruises now dark purple in color. “They did this to you?” He frowned and made a move to touch your arm, stopping after realizing it would probably hurt you. “Yeah, I bit the guys hand so this is only fair, I guess?” You mused. “It looks painful, they didn’t left any mark on me and I fought back too,” his voice was monotone but it still seemed to you like he was concerned. “Not hard enough then,” you teased, getting an eye-roll again. That’s when the janitor finally came, not too happy to find two teenagers in his room.

  After that it went pretty fast. You’d often chat throughout the night and when you came from school. He was the one who suggested that you save each other’s number under a nickname just in case that they’d take your phones. They changed a lot from then but were just as meaningful. The teasing continued, your classes shipping you and mocking you for it but it wasn’t anything that actually bothered you as you knew would be the case if they knew you actually talked to each other.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

  And now you were rushing to meet the boy again. Just one more turn and there he was. Sitting on the edge of fountain, looking up. He wore black tight jeans with dark violet shirt with blue stripes and black leather jacket. Handsome as always. At the sound of your footsteps he turned his head, some if his hairs falling to his face. Your heart skipped a beat as it often did in his presence. “Hey,” you smiled and rushed to him, giving him a friendly hug that you enjoyed more than you should have. He kept saying that he doesn’t like physical affection and people touching him in general but you soon noticed that when you touched or hugged him, he hesitated before pulling away. That was why you were already close to confessing your feelings about ten times. “Hey,” he offered a welcome as well. You could tell something was off already. His voice was never this soft unless something happened. “Tell me,” you said simply. It was comfortable knowing each other so well, not having to explain things. “I just,” he sighed and let his head fall, “I met some kids on the street and they followed me the whole way home and picked at me ‘cause of my quirk.” It didn’t happen quite as often now, the Sports Festival long in the past. It only hit Hitoshi more because of this fact. “I’m just afraid I’ll forever be known as the kid who’d be a perfect villain,” he shrugged and tried to laugh it off. You knew him well enough to know this was just a façade. “You don’t have to embarrassed,” you said gently, bumping your shoulder together as you sat next to him on the cold surface. You didn’t nag at him more about that though, your only intention being to remind him of that. “And you definitely don’t need to worry either, they’re just kids. Kids are mean,” you made a face, getting a weak chuckle from him. “Besides my parents will always remember you as ‘that purple bastard’ so don’t sweat it, not everyone will remember you like that.” Now he laughed in earnest. “Are they still mad?” You nodded with a shrug.

Why would parents be mad at the boy with whom their only child ran away in the middle of the night on basically weekly basis… you didn’t understand at all. It wasn’t like you didn’t come back – and if you didn’t, you at least sent them a message.

  A comfortable silence enveloped you. Your mind was swirling with all kinds of thoughts, from boring ones about school, controversies you saw online, to fantasizing about what your first date with Hitoshi would be like. You were swinging your legs as you did. It was nice to just be together with him like this. He looked troubled but you didn’t say anything, knowing full well that he needed to think through whatever was worrying him. You didn’t mind. He was the only person you didn’t mind being quiet around. He seemed to appreciate that, in return trying to talk more than he usually would. “Quick! What was the last thing you thought about,” he asked suddenly. It was your favourite inside game. “I remembered the guy who had the Twin Towers with ‘Inside job’ tattooed on his back, it’s so tacky, you?” You answered with a grin, internally cringing at the memory. “That the blond guy from 1-B is freakin’ creepy.” He didn’t need to explain more, you knew exactly who was he talking about. “Yeah, I hate passing him in the hallway.” You shivered, that empty eyed look always gave you the creeps. “I mean, why does everyone hate on us? He’s the real evil,” you giggled, not noticing the little smile on Hitoshi’s lips.

  You stretched and yawned, looking around. Your muscles were getting stiff from the sitting and it was such a beautiful night. “Wanna go for a walk? We haven’t done that in a while!” You suggested excitedly, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. To your surprise you didn’t get the usual eye-roll but a silent nod instead. If the laziest person you knew after Aizawa-sensei didn’t protest a walk, something was sure wrong. “Those kids got you bad, huh?” You smiled sadly letting go of the fabric. He simply looked away but it was enough for you. “I’m just tired of hearing it all the time, that’s all. And…,” he bit his lip – unbeknownst to him you’ve wanted to do just it since the day one – obviously pondering something. “Keep this to yourself, okay?” He sighed in the end and you nodded with a smile. You wondered if he could hear your heart trying to escape your ribcage. You always got all mushy inside when he opened up to you. “I’d really like to make good impression on kids, it really matters to me a lot,” he confessed quietly with a gentle smile you almost never saw. “But how am I supposed to do it if everyone only sees a villain in me?” He got bitter again, his precious gentle side disappearing. You laid your head on his shoulder, feeling him stiffen under you before relaxing. He was used to this level of skinship by now, you trained him well. You were the one who initiated it for the most part, but sometimes, when you were feeling down or he was in extremely good mood, he’d touch you on his own. It never failed to make your knees weak. For other’s it probably didn’t seem like much – a gentle brush of hands, a quick hug or leaning on someone. It was after all what all friends did, right? Not when it came to Hitoshi, and you knew it. That’s why it was so special to you. “You remember our seven minutes in heaven?” You asked, getting a confused look. “I didn’t think for a moment that you are a bad person, the thought that you may be evil never occurred to me,” you noticed him smile a bit from the corner of your eye. “Even when you had a control over my body for full freakin’ minute,” you pouted. He simply leaned his head to side to touch yours in response. You closed your eyes and carved the feeling into your brain. His hair were so soft they were like a pillow and nice warmth radiated from him. Combined with the smell of his cologne, it was a perfect attack on your ability to think straight.

  “And,” the light bulb went off above your head as you straightened up, suddenly getting an idea what might help him, “look at the proof.” You raised a finger to signal him to wait as you fished around in your pocket for your phone. You unlocked it and showed him messages of your conversation with him. “See? There’s nothing like ‘Stain’s kin’,” you pointed to the nickname you had saved him under. Frickin’ Savior. “You’re really amazing, Hitoshi, it’s a shame that not many people know that.” You watched as his walls fell down, his expression soft. He looked at you with his beautiful purple eyes, stars reflecting in them and you swore it was the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. “So… yeah, don’t worry about it,” you let out a breathy chuckle. Your cheeks were pink after showing him the embarrassing nickname you gave him. But it did lift his mood so you’d survive. “May I ask for something?” His politeness took you by surprise, but still you nodded without a word. It was the first time he spoke to you like this. You tried to find the reason for the sudden change in his eyes but they were dark, as they after all always were if he was serious about something. His body language though wasn’t guarded like it usually was. He looked anxious, his hand would be trembling for sure if they were balled into fists on his knees. “Is it really okay?” He asked again, a hint of concern in his voice. Now that made you nervous. “Just tell me what it is.” You frowned. Well known feeling overtook you, creeping up your spine. You didn’t try to move, knowing that it would be to naught. “I-I’m really sorry that I do it this way, but I’d chicken out otherwise and I don’t want to hold back anymore,” he apologized, worrying his lower lip between his lip. Then he looked at you and took your breath away as well. There was no hint of the walls he built over the years, all of them down, those few he kept up even around you were no exception. And this unguarded face of his was riddled with fear and uncertainty, he was at his most vulnerable and you couldn’t move to protect him. “Kiss me,” he whispered so faintly you wouldn’t understand if you didn’t read his lips. Right then and there the hold of his quirk crashed.

  But that didn’t matter. What did was that your heart officially outpaced the speed of light. Your lungs wouldn’t co-operate, every single muscle tense and ready for run-or-fight situations, brain pumping endorphins into your blood stream at neck-breaking pace. He wants you to kiss him. And he wants it bad enough to order you, as if he couldn’t take no for an answer. He said it himself, right? Your mind screamed in ecstasy. After all the months of surviving on strictly innocent touches, finally came a moment you were waiting for. You looked into his eyes now that you could move and it finally hit him. His face contorted in a grimace of pure horror. He shrieked a high pitched noise and took off, sprinting away.

  But oh boy, were you not having any of this shit.

  You chased him street after street, alley after another, finally pinning him against a wall of some shop. You were both breathless, yet he still tried to find a way to continue his escape. You stepped closer to him, invading his closest personal space, chests and noses only millimeters apart. “Let me go,” he pleaded quietly, avoiding your eyes. “No way,” you frowned before suddenly having to squat down overcome by a fit of coughs you always got after running for a long time. Only annoyed and angered this time by the opening it created for Hitoshi to run away. He however mimicked your pose instead and soothingly rubbed your back up and down. You smiled in between the coughs.

  “Didn’t you want to run?” You asked when your body finally calmed down and sat on the sidewalk. “I still can I guess, but I don’t want to put you through that again, I know you hate it,” he said and shifted awkwardly. “Then why did you ran in the first place?” You gave him mean look he couldn’t see since he was still avoiding your gaze. “I didn’t think you’d ran after me.” He confessed and sat too, knees pulled to his chest. “Why wouldn’t I? Do you think I’d let the opportunity to kiss you slip from my grasp so easily?” You offered a gentle smile and nudged him with your elbow. He finally looked at you, still as vulnerable and scared, now shocked too. “W-w-what? You don’t have to do it, my quirk didn’t work!” He protested, turning away but you cupped his cheek, turning his face back to look at you. “It did, but did you forget when it turns off?” You chuckled a bit at his dumbfounded expression. “You know, back then, I was really shocked because,” you took in a deep breath, “because my crush of 3 months, 2 weeks and 6 days, whom I thought would never feel anything but friendship towards me, asked me to kiss him.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, genuinely shy smile gracing your lips. You let him process it, watching his emotions shift and change. From surprise, to disbelief, to denial, to finally, acceptance. He smiled as well, beautifully sweet smile and eyes sparkling. His whole face lit up in an instant. “May I still kiss you?” You asked but the answer never came as a pair of soft, warm lips gently crashed and melted into yours in deep kiss. Your eyes shut instinctively. The feeling was impossible to describe, pure bliss was very weak expression. His hands found their way to your hair and back and pulled you closer. You hummed happily and put your arms on his shoulders, gently pulling on his hair. He moaned quietly into your mouth and it was the only sound you needed to ever remember and hear again and again.

  Eventually though you had to pull away for oxygen, your forehead still resting against his. He looked at you sheepishly. “So… how was it?” He asked, unable to contain a smile. You leaned forward and captured his lips again, gently this time, a reassuring kiss. “Addictive,” you simply purred, your lips still touching. “Do you want more?” He smirked and you leaned in again but left him hanging, instead giving him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I do, but I also want a proper confession,” you whispered teasingly, pulling away to look at him. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I think I was pretty straightforward though,” he tried to pull you closer again but you resisted. You knew however that he wouldn’t budge, not like this. “Nah-ah, if you want it you better confess properly,” you tapped his lips with a finger and faked a yawn, “anyway, I’m getting pretty sleepy. But don’t worry I’ll wait for you.” You stretched and stood up, walking back to your home. It was hard to ignore him and don’t turn around when he called your name so sweetly but your stupid cheesy heart needed a proper love confession, stuttering, avoiding eye contact and everything.

  You received some pretty sweet messages from your savior saying that he missed you, that he needed you to come back. It goes without saying that you didn’t sleep a bit, your heart racing with every new text. You always responded along the lines “If you want it, come and get it” but he never did. You knew he wouldn’t, he needed time to organize his thoughts and to get used to the situation. He was always awkward with words so you patiently waited the whole weekend, going back to just texting. You talked on the phone too, chatting as you normally did, except now you slipped in compliments and sweet nothings as well, always making the other one blush even if it couldn’t be seen.

  Then Monday came around finally. You walked to the school and to your class, passing Hitoshi in the hallway. You noticed he didn’t ignore you completely, shooting you a warm look that effectively made your knees weak. You weren’t able to concentrate during lessons, your mind too occupied with the indigo haired boy. How could you not think about him when your classrooms were right next to each other? During the third lesson you couldn’t take it anymore and secretly texted him.

To: Frickin’ Savior

Text: How much for 10g of the stuff?  You smiled, quite satisfied with your pun. But hey, he got you hooked so it was his fault. You were shifting nervously the whole time until the break came. Just as the bell rang there was a big fuss at the door, lot of muttering. You sat on your desk so you could see but you didn’t need to, it was the exact moment Hitoshi emerged from the group of people blocking the doors. “We don’t want any villains here!” Someone shouted after him but he paid it no mind, instead walking towards you with determined look on his face. It made your heart do flips inside your chest. You looked at him confusedly, this was a taboo! He didn’t seemed to care though as he made his way to you. One of his hands sneaked around your waist and the other cupped your cheek. He pulled you close and leaned in to kiss you, you were to shocked to protest, melting into him instead. Nothing but his lips against your mattered, definitely not the gasping and stupid remarks of your classmates. You moved in sync, both hungry for more. He pulled away reluctantly, looking into your eyes with a smirk. “Is this enough of a confession?” Corners of your mouth quirked up, you captured his lips again instead of answering. Yes, this was enough.

[butternuggets-blog]

FOR WANT OF A NAIL

@baldwin-montclair @adowobsessed @sylverdeclermont @nicki-mac-me @thereadersmuse @kynthiamoon @wheresthesunshinesblog @adowbaldwin @beautifulsoulsublime @lady-lazarus-declermont @adarafaelbarba-blog @dogblessyoutascha

Part Sixty-Three

Summary:  Baldwin Montclair had a string of ex girlfriends, a single child, and a  lifetime longer than most people could dream of to make all kinds of  mistakes. His family knew one which kept coming out of the woodwork to  irritate him every other century

Also on AO3

The man offered no resistance as he was dragged from his horse and paraded through the streets. He'd timed it all perfectly; enough people around to whip up a violent mob, but not quite enough to tear him to pieces.

Château de Beaune loomed large ahead of them. The fields to the left of the castle were still there, blooming green vines with tiny white flowers looped along wooden stakes spiked through the field. The château was imposing and striking as ever, Martin's banner of blue and gold flying high above the buttresses.

But beside the château, to the right...Louis de Clermont felt his breath catch in his throat.

In the centuries to come they would call it a miracle. Two hundred and sixty-two meters squared, carved from striking local limestone in the Demer Gothic style, the cathedral-like mausoleum housing Yvette Bouchard's remains had taken two years to complete, three years ahead of the quickest-built churches in Europe. It had been an almost round-the-clock family effort, and Louis admired their commitment.

Louis let himself be carried into the castle and thrown onto his knees before Martin. He kept his head low, hands cupped in his lap, while the men around him bobbed into bows and kept their makeshift weapons trained on him.

'He requested an audience with Sieur' the man was a baker but he'd found a billhook from somewhere and was holding it firmly under Louis' chin. Louis tried not to sneeze from the flour clinging to the man's apron.

'I did not give your family permission to come here.' Martin growled. The men around them stood firm and Louis tried to look smaller, even more helpless and pathetic.

'The vampires' are Louis Mettler and Jürgen Wolf' Louis annunciated.

Martin froze. So did the men.

'And how in hell-' Martin looked torn between the thought of killing Louis on the spot and hearing out his explanation in case he wasn't lying, '-do you know that?'

'News filters through the twilight underground,' Louis began, his flair for the dramatic wilting immediately under Martin's deathly gaze. 'My mistress was courted at the opera who claimed that his siblings were very important. When she asked what he meant, he explained what Mettler and Wolf had done.'

'Where can I find this man?'

'Buried with the Holy Innocents'' Louise shrunk back further in the face of Martin's furious dissapointment. 'He was found slain in his apartment some days later. My mistress is in hiding, in fear for her life.'

Martin held back a sigh, gesturing for the men to leave the room. They reluctantly did so, bowing as they went. Louis stayed on the ground until Martin waved him up to his feet.

'Useful and useless.' Martin stared at Louis, 'Thank you for the information. Now-'

His smile didn't reach his eyes.

'-how to reward you?'

________________________________________________________________

Louis' horse had been found wandering the wilds at the border of De Clermont land. Baldwin had heard about the bloody saddle bags, but neither he nor Philippe had looked inside. His father had ordered Pierre to burn them and Ysabeau had spread the ashes in the rose garden.

King John II had summoned them to the royal palace in Paris shortly after for ceasefire talks and Philippe had been surprised to hear that Martin had agreed to the king's request. Baldwin wasn't.

He didn't think Martin had had anything to do with Louis' untimely demise. The man was as unsubtle as a brick through a window; most likely he'd ridden over the borderline and been struck down by the first aggrieved peasant he bumped into who recognised their sigil.

Philippe should never have agreed to let him go. What was he thinking?!

Philippe had been thinking that wet-sop Louis would be just benign enough to get Martin to actually consider Philippe's proposal that Martin keep the ban on the family but let them send their workers and representatives north, passing through as quickly and quietly as possible.

A door opened and the negotiating delegation stepped through. Philippe was at the King's shoulder and he gave Baldwin a subtle wink that meant things were going well.

Baldwin nodded, forcing himself to focus on his father so that he didn't look over-

Goddamn

He looked to his right.

Martin's expression was as black as thunder since the king had his back to him and couldn't see. His hair caught the sunlight for a second from the high window and the angle caused a rainbow across his face.

He looked like an avenging angel, and the overwhelming urge to kiss him welled up inside Baldwin's chest.

Gods he's beautiful

He shouldn't do this. He really shouldn't. But Baldwin was already on his feet and moving, skirting past the last of the king's advisors shepherding His Majesty out the furthest door while everyone else milled about deciding what to do for lunch.

If he would just hear him out. If he would just listen, Baldwin was sure he could make Martin understand that he'd just been taken aback by his words, that of course he'd help him, he'd always help him, he just hadn't expected to be told to choose and the moment got away from him...

But now, here he was, standing before him again. And Martin would call him Lucius and he'd correct him, and he would explain and apologise and everything would be alright.

'Baldwin.' Martin said curtly.

Baldwin's soul shattered and broke down to his boots.

Author's Notes

The size of the mausoleum should be about the width and length of a two-storey house, but with an elevated cathedral-like roof.

Cathedrals could take anywhere between five to ten years to finish, or more! But when a family of vampires is motivated enough, and has architecture expertise, anything is possible!

The Holy Innocents' Cemetary in Paris was used from the 18th century until 1780 when, due to "overuse", it closed, and in 1786 all final corpses were removed and reinterred in the famous Catacombs. It was named after the Biblical massacre of the innocents (King Herod vs Moses: This Will Surely End Well) and Place Joachim-de-Bellay covers the area where the cemetary once was.

King John II (the Good) was king of France from 1350 to his death in 1364. He created the franc!

[zee-man-chatter]

Mainstream Media Is Avoiding the Big Story on Jeffrey Epstein and Sealed Court Documents

By Pam Martens and Russ Martens: January 3, 2024 ~

Over the past week, more than a dozen of the biggest mainstream news outlets have published articles about the possibility of scandalous news breaking this week from the unsealing of documents in a federal court case involving the sex trafficker of minors, Jeffrey Epstein.

Typically, responsible news outlets wait for the actual news to break before hyping the possibility of it breaking. At 5:59 a.m. this morning, Newsweek updated the story as follows:

“Some on social media are speculating that the public disclosure of more than 150 names associated with the late sex offender Jeffrey Epstein has been delayed.

“Judge Loretta A. Preska signed an order on December 18 for the public release of the identities of more than 150 people mentioned in court documents from a now-settled 2015 civil lawsuit filed by Virginia Giuffre that centered on allegations that Epstein’s associate and former girlfriend Ghislaine Maxwell facilitated her sexual abuse.

“Several prominent figures, including former President Bill Clinton and Britain’s Prince Andrew are expected to be named. The list will also include sex abuse victims and Epstein’s employees.”

Bill Clinton, Prince Andrew, Donald Trump, and dozens of other prominent men in politics, finance and law have already been named, repeatedly, in the media as people who socialized or had suspect dealings with Epstein. So this is not a new story.

The real story that mainstream media refuses to investigate is why federal judges in New York have been allowed to secret away in sealed documents the puzzle pieces to how Epstein’s network of powerful men were able to run a sex trafficking ring for two decades with the “active participation” of the largest federally-insured bank in the United States, JPMorgan Chase; and right under the nose of its Chairman, CEO and media darling, Jamie Dimon.

This is the Big Story that has been left to wilt on the vine by the likes of the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Washington Post and their peers.

The answers to this Big Story will not be found in the documents slated to be unsealed by Judge Loretta Preska in the Virginia Giuffre case. They have been sealed and locked up tight in Judge Jed Rakoff’s courtroom after he oversaw multiple Epstein-related lawsuits brought against JPMorgan Chase in late 2022 and 2023.

One case, Jane Doe v JPMorgan Chase, was a class action on behalf of Epstein’s sex assault and sex trafficked victims. Judge Rakoff approved its settlement for $290 million despite objections from 17 Attorneys General and the settlement’s unconscionable terms that included releasing claims for “harm, injury, abuse, exploitation, or trafficking by Jeffrey Epstein or by any person who is in any way connected to or otherwise associated with Jeffrey Epstein, as well as any right to recovery on account thereof.” Claimants were also required to sign the release form before they learned if they would get a dime from the settlement.

Attorneys for the victims were not left in any such doubt. The settlement terms provided them with $87 million in legal fees and $2.5 million in expenses.

Releasing claims against “Any person who is in any way connected to or otherwise associated with Jeffrey Epstein” conveniently includes a number of billionaires referred by Epstein to JPMorgan Chase as clients. There are also literally hundreds of high-profile individuals that were listed in Epstein’s little black book that could be considered “connected” to him.

Many of the individuals listed in Epstein’s little black book – a total of 1,571 – have had important banking relationships with JPMorgan Chase. In a court filing on July 26 of last year by the Attorney General of the U.S. Virgin Islands, which has since settled its Epstein-related case against JPMorgan Chase for $75 million, it listed the following individuals as people Epstein referred as clients to the bank: Microsoft co-founder and billionaire Bill Gates; Google co-founder and billionaire Sergey Brin; the Sultan of Dubai, Sultan Ahmed bin Sulayem; media and real estate billionaire Mort Zuckerman; and numerous others.

Epstein’s victims charged in their lawsuit that JPMorgan Chase had, for more than a decade, provided Epstein with cozy banking services, which included sluicing to him millions of dollars in hard cash from his accounts, sometimes as much as $40,000 to $80,000 a month. The bank failed to file the Suspicious Activity Reports (SARs) that it is legally required to file with the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network (FinCEN) for those payments in cash. Epstein’s alleged quid pro quo with the bank included him referring valuable business deals and clients to JPMorgan Chase. These allegations were substantiated by 22 pages of internal bank emails released in the related case brought against the bank by the U.S. Virgin Islands.

A third Epstein-related case was brought against JPMorgan Chase in Rakoff’s court by two public pension funds that owned shares of JPMorgan Chase. That lawsuit named Dimon as a defendant as well as current and former members of JPMorgan Chase’s Board of Directors. It was brought by a prominent class action law firm on behalf of shareholders of the bank. The lawsuit’s theory of the case was that specific members of the Board of JPMorgan Chase “put their heads in the sand” and ignored that the bank had become a cash conduit for Jeffrey Epstein’s child sex trafficking ring because they were hoping that their own verifiable business ties to Epstein “would go unnoticed.” (We might add an attendant thesis: that Dimon takes very good care of his Board in return for them taking very good care of him.)

Mainstream media ignored the allegations that members of the JPMorgan Chase Board of Directors had business ties with Epstein and Judge Rakoff wasted no time in dismissing the case on technical grounds. (This was not the first time that a major scandal involving JPMorgan Chase received a news blackout by mainstream media.)

The other Big Story is why after 18 years of police and FBI investigations of Epstein and his wide sex trafficking ring, the U.S. Department of Justice has brought criminal charges against only two people: Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell.

There is also no indication, at present, that the Justice Department is preparing to bring a criminal case against JPMorgan Chase, despite its recidivist history of felony charges (including two felony counts for money laundering) and a former FBI agent’s statement on how the bank “impeded” a criminal investigation of Epstein. (See: New Court Documents Suggest the Justice Department Under Four Presidents Covered Up Jeffrey Epstein’s Money Laundering at JPMorgan Chase.)

Two different stories, draw your own conclusions, the rabbit hole goes pretty deep.

[koreanbibliophilegirl]

Do you perhaps want to info dump about your DSMP superpower AU?

Totally not asking to procrastinate on literally writing my own. Nah. I don’t even know what procrastination is.

SKLFDJSJHDJFLH INFODUMPING ABOUT MY AU? ALWAYS. I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED.

Okay so! Where should I start? *rubs hands like that one evil toddler cousin on Christmas*

The background setting!

So the fic already has a name, but I'm keeping it AND the MC secret as a lil surprise for when the fic is eventually published. All I will say about it is, it's not Tommy. *gasp*

Tommy does appear though, so I'll start there to avoid detection I think.

He works at the bakery(yes, it's owned by Niki Nihachu), which is right around the corner from the hero headquarters. So heroes are always stopping by for baked goods, especially since Niki's girlfriend, Puffy, has a son who's one of the top heroes, and he told all his friends about how good the bakery is.

And, of course, true to all the clichés, Tommy and his two roommates work as vigilantes. They don't work only at night, though. They work at lunchtime as well, since they all get an hour of lunch break & a lot of villains are out and about around that time. Counterintuitive, but then again, there are a lot of people in the streets to nab as hostages, and some villains actively seek out heroes to fight anyway. Like Redrum, known as the sharp-clawed, since he's apparently a catshifter (or general shapeshifter, who knows) who goes around stabbing heroes.

Tubbo works at the mechanics, his boss is retired hero/hero trainer Sam Dude(known as Warden during his time)! Sam retired among controversy though, because of issues surrounding the Hero HQ's former resident healer/ex-licensed hero, Lemon Balm. Tubbo couldn't care less though, Sam's nice and lets him take spare parts home for inventing(read: making vigilante gadgets).

Ranboo helps out at the local library, with Technoblade(last name unknown) as his boss! They're also the first out of the vigilante team Bench Trio to find out that Techno is the Blood God, one of the most popular vigilantes currently active, and one half of the elusive Emerald Duo.

Phil runs a bird shelter, and when he's out as the Angel of Death, he sometimes lets the crows from the shelter follow him around!

Kristin is a hero-turned-vigilante, formerly Miss Trixtin, currently the Goddess of Death. She's a bit busy with her day job atm though so she's taking a bit of a break from her vigilante job.

Wilbur is their son who left home after an argument about vigilantism not helping reform the corrupt hero system. He's a villain called Silver Tongue now. He keeps stealing important stuff from the Hero HQ with Fundy. He gets pretty close with Tommy after regularly visiting his (adoptive) son's workplace :D

Bench Trio's vigilante names are Aerie(Tommy- telekinesis + singing to plants to make them grow), Bee Bomb(Tubbo- honey colored explosive energy balls & metal manipulation), and Endgame(Ranboo- teleportation & compression, plus they can bite through anything)!

(Double powers are uncommon but not too rare, triple powers are EXTREMELY rare.)

Tommy's bakery coworkers are Fundy Soot(villain- helps his adoptive father, Wilbur, on his little outings. Ability to go unnoticed by everyone and anyone. It works on technology as well. He's also a general shapeshifter in theory, but he can't transform into animals bigger than a fox.), Badboy Halo(civillian- he can make red vines grow out of the ground! This saved Skeppy's butt once, cuz they used to live in the same neighborhood & went to the same schools, and one time Skeppy fell off the flagpole of the middle school. Bad's vines caught him midair.), and later on Ant Frost(🤫).

Niki herself is actually a former hero who resigned, she got too much hate about her power(copying others' powers for a short while). Puffy, who was her partner, retired a few years later, since she'd decided to adopt the orphan boy who had applied for the hero training program, and she'd need more money than she was making as a hero who had lost most of her popularity. She became a therapist, and fully supported her new son Foolish throughout his hero training!

Puffy and Niki never really talked about their relationship, but since Puffy's power is reading minds & emotions, and Niki can copy her power, they didn't have to. One day they just started telling people they were taken, and that was that.

Foolish is a popular hero who can call up storms & has the additional power of building anything in the blink of an eye! His partner(both work AND romantic) is Eret, who can control people's actions if they catch sight of her glowing white eyes. Their hero names are the Golden Shark and Monarch respectively.

Tina is also a hero, she graduated the hero training program with Foolish, but her powers(always landing on her feet when she falls, enhanced senses including night vision, and stealth) coincide too much with the top hero, Dream(can't get hurt from falling, slowing down time to give himself time to think, some enhanced agility), and she didn't get very popular. This will soon change though, Tina is the GOAT and everyone will know it.

Speaking of Tina, Hannah Rose the retired hero! She runs a flower shop! She retired after one of her wings was ripped during a fight, the physical therapy took a while and her popularity dropped like a stone. She realized how unfair the hero system was to unpopular heroes and decided to retire. Her wings still haven't recovered, her flight balance is too off for her to even consider flying more than a few feet off the ground, and more than a few seconds.

Las Nevadas! Quackity! He's one of the rare triple powered people! Golden duck wings, can manipulate card-shaped objects(a form of telekinesis), and has the ability to control odds(only if he's aware of all the variables though. It won't work very well if there are unknown factors).

Charlie! May be an elder god, may be the devil, who knows! He can turn into green slime, create green slime(with various properties), and additionally, knows everything about everyone. Nobody actually knows if this is a power or not, but it's certainly terrifying paired with his cheerful, optimistic personality.

Purpled! His skin is basically invincible, fireproof, acidproof, poisonproof, you name it. He also has perfect aim, which is very handy since he's an assassin. His sibling Punz is also an assassin, but they has flight trajectory manipulation and his eyes can zoom in on anything.

Skeppy. He's not part of the mafia, but he might as well be becuase he's literally always there. Nobody knows how he does it. But. He. Is. Always. There. He can summon diamonds though so nobody's complaining😊 lol

(But seriously, he's also fun to hang out with and plan pranks with. The mafia world is full of people who want something from you/have ulterior motives, and it's nice to hang out with someone who doesn't want anything from you other than keeping him company and talking with him.)

Sam, Foolish and Punz are friends! Sam suspects Punz is mafia but keeps quiet about it(he isn't about to make the same mistake as last time), Foolish is oblivious. Punz loves his homies, but is stressed bc Foolish has a v strict moral code and would not be happy if he finds out Punz is mafia.

Uhhh who have I not talked about, KARLNAP. Sapnap was a vigilante(he failed the training program interview) who quickly got recruited by the heroes, Karl was the same but a while later! Sapnap got patrols with Dream and GeorgeNotFound(all three go by their actual names as heroes, though Sapnap's vigilante name was Flame) and immediately gained a huge following(besides his fans from his vigilante days), but Karl(a.k.a. Timekeeper) wasn't that well-known even as a vigilante. He didn't give up though, and trained extremely hard every day. Then one day Sapnap saw him in the training area and got an instant crush. They talked, Sapnap began asking to be paired with Karl for duo patrols, they started dating, and now they're both famous & known as the ultimate power couple :3

Hmm, it feels kinda anticlimactic to end like this, so have a codename compilation!

Tommy- Aerie(place to rest suspended in the air. Tommy can float things in the air so I thought the name fit.)

Tubbo- Bee Bomb(Bee Bombs are wildflower seed balls that you leave out in the garden/in pots to grow wildflowers. I thought Tubbo would like the name, since his energy balls are supposed to smell sweet like wildflower honey.)

Ranboo- Endgame(They're so overpowered with their teleportation and compression that Tommy and Tubbo insisted his appearance alone would signal the beginning of the endgame. Nicknamed Ender.)

Technoblade- the Blood God(obviously.)

Philza- the Angel of Death(also obviously.)

Wilbur- Silver Tongue(for his silver tongue.)

Fundy- either Nonexistent or Ghost, haven't really decided yet

Kristin- (formerly) Miss Trixtin, (currently) the Goddess of Death

Foolish- the Golden Shark

Tina- Carrot Cat

Eret- Monarch

Niki- (formerly) Copycat

Puffy- (formerly) Captain Puffy

Karl- Timekeeper

(Mafia Codename explanation here)

Quackity- Rey Club, King of Clubs

Purpled- Tyrian Spade

Punz- Lapis Lazuli Spade, Ace of Spades

Hannah- (formerly) Faerie, (currently) Bitterbriar Diamond

Skeppy- Adamant Heart(since he's always there anyway, they just gave him a codename.)

Charlie- Dresden Diamond, Jack of Diamonds

Ponk- Lemon Balm/Sorrento Heart(they still go by Lemon Balm as a vigilante)

Ant- Redrum

Eryn- Demon

Aimsey- Daisy(star and Eryn are villains who want to reform society as a whole by blowing up buildings. Only when they're empty tho cuz Aimsey doesn't want to kill ppl)

Velvet: Red Flag

Welp, that's all for now! If there's anything else you'd like to know, please feel free to ask further! I really enjoyed answering this, thank you so much for the ask! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

-Lilly xx

(P. S. Almost forgot; HBomb is the owner & sole employee of a cat café with a maid event on Saturdays.)