#kiosk fest

[jaeellec]

New Episode!

Wandering Star, Episode 4: The Dark Side of the Moon is now up! You can read it here!

The first three episodes were essentially set-up, so we're really getting things started with this one! Hope you like!

Under the cut is a sample from the start of the episode:

Red and luxurious, the spanning love hotel hallway was quiet.

But that peace was shattered by one of the room doors flying open, jerking back when it was overextended on its hinges as Carmen stormed out with a scowl. Kid shouldered the shutting door on his mad way after her, his captain’s coat still in hand. Killer hurried to keep up with his captain, but the other three weren’t in such a rush – Law least of all.

Carmen took a sharp right where Heat and Wire were just rounding the corner with a couple of giggling girls. The two pirates took pause and looked after the star in surprise as she flounced past them, but they found themselves even more astonished when their half-dressed and bleeding captain was charging right behind her.

“Cut ‘em loose and come with me,” The redhead was harsh with his command, and his men’s confused glances were pulled from him and the first mate to the other approaching would-be allies.

_

Outside, fireworks sang out their whistles as they rocketed towards the star-filled sky to burst into bright and dazzling colors. Onlookers were gathered at the harbor to admire from below - Sanji, Nami, and Brook were among the crowd.

Shachi and Penguin were both pouting and leaned up against a wall outside of the Rendezvous while a blushing Bepo was being doted upon by a couple of dancers – one pinched his cheek and the other played with his ear as they cooed cute compliments.

_

A back-alley door slammed open and Carmen was still angry on her way out, the others still not quite caught up with her as she rounded around the building towards the still-lively fest.

_

All-smiles, the merchant to a pirate flag kiosk was waving in thanks with his head turned to happy customers as they walked away. The dancer snatched up one of the flags at random – a Heart Pirate jolly roger - and seamlessly wrapped it around herself like a cloak.

_

All three Heart Pirates got curious when they saw someone rush by bearing their mark, the Kid Pirates following close, then two Straw Hats, and finally their own captain.

“Huh…?” Bepo’s blushing disappeared, and Shachi cupped hands over his mouth.

“Captain! Where are you going?”

“We’ll come with you!” Penguin declared, and the three abandoned the annoyed dancers.

_

“Hey!!”

Nami, Sanji, and Brook all turned when they heard their captain call. They were just as surprised as the other crews at the sight, and their captain was waving at them.

“Come with us! We’re going somewhere secret!”

Nami scoffed. “He can’t be serious,” she hurried after her captain. “Luffy, wait!"

Sanji and Brook exchanged perplexed glances, but were just as quick to catch up to their gleeful, questioning captain. “Where are the others? I don’t want them to miss out on the fun!”

“Fun?!”

“I believe Usopp and Chopper were playing more carnival games,” Brook informed his captain just as they were getting on the less-populated outskirts of the harbor, “And Franky and Robin perhaps went on a carriage tour.”

The storming, cloaked lead was quick to speak. “Forget it, they’re too scattered out,” she looked over her shoulder. “I don’t want all of you in my camp until negotiations are sorted out, anyway.”

Sanji was instantly popping heart eyes, “Is that-?!?!”

“Get a hold of yourself!” Nami’s fist slammed the top of his head and reset him before she scolded both Captain and first mate with angry eyes and sharp teeth. “Negotiations?! We leave you both alone for two seconds and you’re signing your souls or all our Berri away?! One of you better start talking!”

“Fine,” Zoro breathily grumbled, and he and his Captain were unintelligible in their explanation as, now at the rear of the group, Captain Kid threw his coat at his first mate.

“Hold this,” he was surly in both toss and demand as he angrily yanked his shirt back up, not caring if it smeared the blood.

Wire had eyes cut over to him and was reluctant to ask, “You okay, captain…?”

“I’m fine,” but his irate tone told otherwise as he snatched his coat back, finished dressing, and lowered his voice. “Dammit…I don’t know what the hell she got me with, but it wasn’t a knife. The only metal I could feel on her was her jewelry.”

That surprised Heat, “The dancer did that??”

“I’m thinking it’s a Devil Fruit,” Killer gave his input as they strolled. “Gotta be…”

Kid gave a low, thoughtful growl, “The trick has a trick…that’s for sure.”

 “So why the hell are we following her into the night?” Heat queried, and there was something sinister to his captain’s cold glare.

“Because we come out on top either way.”

...

Read the rest!

[magolorstometrackers]

Heyoo!! I was wondering if you could do a Magolor x reader? I don't really have any ideas in terms of what specifically, so it can be up to you on what you want to put in the drabble. Btw, I love your fanfics, they're pretty amazing!! Keep up the great work ^^

Hi! Of course I can do a Magolor x Reader! Feeling daring going random, eh? I got you covered! One random drabble coming right up! And thank you so much for the compliments, I just try my best! If you don’t mind, I’m also feeling a little daring today, so do you mind if I write a crossover fic? Thinking with Splatfest coming up this weekend in Splatoon, I’d try to combine the two! If not, just send in another ask and I’d be happy to write something else for you!

May The Best Team Win! - Magolor x GN!Reader (Splatoon AU)

“Come on, the voting boxes have been open for an entire week now! And the Splatfest starts in only a few hours!” Magolor practically dragged you by your arm to pledge your loyalty one of the three teams and to pick up your Splatfest Tee.

“Alright, alright! What even are the options this fest, anyways?” You asked. Magolor just stared at you for a good, long moment.

“You… haven’t heard? They finally gave us the fest we all predicted! It’s an ice cream themed fest— vanilla versus strawberry versus mint chip.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Interesting how they’d listen to us for once,” You smiled. “What team are you gonna choose, Magolor?” You added as you two approached the voting kiosk.

“Easy!” Magolor began typing in the player ID that was displayed on his splashtag. “I’m Mint Choco. How about you?”

You hummed, watching Magolor’s Splatfest tee be dispensed at the bottom of the kiosk. He then stepped to the side, allowing you to move forward and begin your selection. You typed in your player ID, and Magolor eagerly looked over your shoulder to see your choice.

You selected your team, and Magolor facepalmed.

“Vanilla? Really?!” He shook his head as you began laughing. “Whaaat?? It’s a classic, we get white ink, and Shiver is really cool!” You protested.

“[Name], you know that means we’ll be going against each other, right?” Magolor tried to hide his disappointment and looked down.

You frowned. “Magolor�� don’t give me that face…” You looked around the kiosk area before taking a deep breath. “It’ll just be friendly competition, alright?” You decided maybe the best way to get him to perk up again was to tease him. “Are you just scared your team is gonna lose?”

“What-?! No!” You could’ve sworn that you saw him blush a bit.

“Then prove it to me by fighting hard for your team! And who knows, maybe we’ll come across each other in a match?” You cheered, and Magolor regained his determination.

“Right! I’ll go grab my splatling now, then! See you later, [Name]!” And with that, both you and Magolor rushed off to change your clothes and grab your weapons.

~ . ~

All was going well, and you were having a lot of fun! You kept going, match after match after match. Until eventually, when the splashtags showed on the side screens…

”Better-Than-You Adventurer

Magolor ☆#xxxx”

Oh.

Oh NO.

You had hyped up Magolor earlier, but you knew damn well that he and his hydra splatling were absolutely KILLER. It would be a real challenge that you’re not on the same side as he.

Before you could think any further, you heard the “GO!” sound effect and was launched onto the map.

The map was Scorch Gorge. You and your teammates split up: The carbon roller stayed back to paint base, the aerospray mg took the left, and the painbrush took the right. You, however, were only left with one choice: Taking the middle.

You gripped your weapon and gulped before going for the center build. And lo-and-behold, Magolor was running over the grates to get to the center too.

A thought struck you like an e-liter, and you smiled mischievously. You would surprise Magolor, just to shake him up a little. You held your squid surge against the side of the center build, and waited.

After a few seconds, Magolor made it to the top of the center build and began inking it. But when you jumped up to surprise him, he immediately began charging his booyah bomb.

“Ah, shit…” You said to yourself as you squid rolled out of the center of the map. You made the mistake of looking back, to which you saw Magolor smirk and stick his tongue out at you before launching his booyah bomb…

directly at you.

SPLAT!

Once you respawned on the map, you smiled with malicious intent, albeit nervously. “Oh it is SO on!” You shouted as you charged back for the center. Before you reached the midpoint you made sure your special was charged, and launched it specifically at Magolor.

This went back and forth for the whole game, until the whistle sounded to mark the end of the turf war.

Everyone turned to Judd and Lil Judd except for you and Magolor. You two smirked at each other, waiting to boast to the other about who won the so-called “friendly match”.

Judd and Lil Judd took a good look at the map, and…

Lil Judd held up the teal flag. Team Mint Choco had won this turf war, meaning Magolor won!

You sighed, and hauled up your weapon to leave the lobby and take a break. However, Magolor rushed away from his team to find you.

“Hey! [Name]! Wait up!” He ran after you, to which you stopped and turned around. “Hm? Come to brag or something?” You half smiled.

“No, no, not at all. I actually wanted to say that you put up a really good fight. And…” He blushed in embarrassment. “You were right. It was really fun fighting against you for a change.”

Your eyes widened. “…Did you just learn that phrase?” You teased.

“SHUT UP!” Magolor smacked your arm as you laughed.

“Hehehey! Just being honest, Mags!” You countered.

“Right, whatever. Anyways, wanna go grab something to eat? I heard that there’s this really good food bar by the lobby, and I think you’d like it.” Magolor offered. You smiled and nodded.

“Sure! Let’s go,” You instinctively grabbed his hand. He began blushing, and you tilted your head to the side in confusion. Upon realizing your grip on his hand, you too turned red and immediately pulled your hand away.

“Sorry! I didn’t–“ “It’s okay. I… kinda liked it.”

You two walked to the food stand, Crab-N-Go, and decided to share a pescatariat royale.

“You’ve got something on your face,” You said with your mouth full, and wiped the piece of lettuce off his cheek. “Hey! Don’t speak with your mouth full! It’s rude!” Magolor said as he went against his own words, also guilty of talking before swallowing. You both began laughing as you took a sip of your drink to wash down the meat of the dish.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” Magolor asked. You stopped in your tracks, having not expected to hear such thing from the mage. Your face became even redder than before, having already been cherry tinted from all your giggling.

“No I’m not,” You denied as you looked away, trying to hide your blushing face. Magolor turned your head to look at him and lifted your chin to be closer to himself. What was in that pescatariat royale? It sure must be something with him acting–

You were cut off as his kissed you.

On the lips.

Your face may as well have been an advertisement for Team Strawberry with how pink you looked. Magolor realized what he has just done, and his eyes went wide.

“I’m sorry! I just– I don’t know what– I can–“ He cut himself off as he hid his face in his hands. You had to admit, you had feelings for him for a while. Yet, you pushed them down to some dark place in yourself, somewhere they couldn’t come between what you and him already had.

You pulled his hands away from his face, took a deep breath, and kissed him back. Now he too was a blushing mess.

“So uh… wanna go watch Deep Cut’s live show?” You said with a sheepish smile. Magolor, still recovering from whatever-the-fuck-just-happened, nodded. You gave him a moment to process things, to which he thanked you for.

You two spent the rest of the night exploring Splatsville, and had a blast despite not being on the same team.

~ End ~ Okay I am SO sorry this took FOREVER to get out and I also may have wrote like A LOT TOO MUCH!!!!!!! But when I’m given the opportunity to go ham, I WILL!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope this was somewhat okay, but like I said before if you don’t like it then I’ll gladly write something else for you. You’re also the first full fanfic I’ve written on this blog other than headcanons, so congrats! I’m sorry I kinda used this as a way of showing my love for Splatfests… but, um! I hope kinda enjoyed this, anon!

“If you ever want to hear more, just let me know!”

[the-hedgerow-house]

Chapter 1: Ad Terminum

Autumn.

While all the seasons had their charms, it was autumn that you always held a slight preference for compared to the others. Perhaps it was the fiery colors of the leaves or the warming cinnamon drinks that came out for you to enjoy when the weather turned, or maybe the release of the heat and humidity of summer that let you delve into your vast collection of sweaters and long pants at your leisure. Though it hadn’t always been the case, you had come to appreciate the comfort of the mild chill and falling leaves in your late youth, as once upon a time the idea of returning to school made you detest this season long before winter could suck the remaining light and warmth from the world.

Alas, even these small things had a limit, each as fleeting as the season itself. Leaves would run out and become soggy, brown clumps under the damp morning dew, drinks would rotate away to the next holiday-appropriate flavor–ugh, peppermint–the chill would turn to frost, frost beget sleet and sleet inevitably became snow. Like everything in your life, this brief moment of perfection–perfect weather, perfect trees, perfect stillness–would end and you’d be left waiting for the next one to find you. Perhaps in late winter when the sun was coming back and you caught that ideal, windless morning where the snow was powdery and pristine so the cold didn’t make you hate existing on the material plane.

Anymore than normal that is.

That was one reason you’d decided it was worth it to go for a walk at all, hunkered into your favorite worn-out sweater with headphones thrumming away to whichever random track the shuffle dictated. This time of day was calm; the midday rush of drivers going to work was over, kids were in school, and the denizens remaining were too busy raking leaves or getting ‘one last grill in’ to be out to bother you. Any remaining locals were probably busy getting ready for the only truly important part of the season–the thing you secretly looked forward to every year, even if you always ended up going alone.

Eerie Fest.

Small towns being what they were, it was rare to have anything to look forward to that didn’t involve sports, school or the local clergy hosting some event or another, but there was always one thing that each place had that was unique in only the way small towns could manage: quirky local traditions. In this case, your favorite event–the thing you waited for every year without fail–was Eerie Fest. The one community event that wasn’t coordinated by tired high schoolers or overly-friendly church moms, it was open for any and all to participate in, sponsored by the town itself to keep local flavor alive.

Or something like that.

At one time, it was a standard farming-town-produce-market type thing but after a particularly heavy frost pushed the showcase back and ruined the crops somewhat, some of the townsfolk had the idea to make up for the losses by having autumn themed games to turn over some revenue. Next thing anyone knew, kiosks of food and drink popped up, local Halloween enthusiasts put on shows and walked around in costume, and then it became indistinguishable from Halloween itself. Each year a theme was voted on and adhered to, volunteers would help set up and assign jobs to prepare for the event in early October, and the neighboring towns flocked in for food, booze and scares. Actual scares. Eerie Fest was not for kids, they always said.

Kind of bullshit, you knew, but the effort was appreciated. That was the true reason you had even wanted to go out for a walk in the first place, the weather being a nice bonus that motivated you out of your comfy hovel of blankets and Disney movies to brave the outdoors and the chance it was crispy and windy as all get-out. While not paid work, volunteers could get tips, and you’d hoped for a chance to prove yourself as a force to be reckoned with in costume and creep by preparing a bizarre creature sewn together in a fevered rush of creativity once you’d woken from an oddly vivid dream of the thing. It’s not as if you had a job at the moment, much to your dismay, but this! This could be the nudge you needed to start something, to make things!

With any luck, your fabric-and-plastic quadruped critter would earn you just enough attention to start sewing and crafting full-time. You just needed to get to the sign up before it got full. The venue location was, supposedly, in a new place this year; someone had convinced the city library to permit them to host in the forest behind the building as it was a decent bit of walking space rife with trees that really fulfilled the ‘fall festival’ aesthetic quota. Of course it would be a small town library that took up shop in an old, run down house–a ‘historical landmark’ site–that had an estate attached to it that put the local parks to shame. None of those fancy new buildings with free wifi and vending machines here.

You knew it well enough, though, having spent many an afternoon picking through the old books covered in dust and leather at the very back of the collection. Convincing the librarian to let a 16-year-old handle such old volumes was a chore paid in volunteer hours for the summer so if anything happened to them, the insurance would cover it, but you felt it was worth it. Then again, part of you felt that those long afternoons and evenings and weekends tending to creaking shelves and inventory rotations did you no favors in befriending your classmates.

The other part of you doubted that feeling altogether just on principle. There were no sleepovers, no after-school snacks at a friend’s house, no riding bikes to the gas station to buy cheap candy with the change you fished out of the couch cushions–not with company anyway. No, there was nothing you were missing out on that the library was getting in the way of. It had spared you the embarrassment of being rejected if you’d dared ask to join in.

The library was a good place.

Though it loomed overhead like it had been peeled from a classic horror movie and slapped into a suburban neighborhood, all iron gates and black trimming in desperate need of a paint job, it was familiar to you. Welcoming. Close for the day–it was Sunday after all–but even so you felt a bit happier just coming by, wrapping your fingers around the chilly twisted fence while popping an earbud out to listen. “Long time no see,” you said quietly, almost anticipating the house to respond in some way even though you knew it couldn't. Despite your aptitude for the Dewey Decimal System, the library could only allow volunteers that were under the age of 18 to work there for some sort of confounded legal reason; once you were of-age, you had to be employed properly and there was ‘simply no budget’ for another librarian in such a small town. After that, your visits became less frequent, the old librarian–Mrs. Thompson–retiring not long after you graduated only to be replaced by the study para from your school of all people.

You didn’t much care for that para, and she didn’t much care for you either. Especially when you corrected her filing method in passing after she’d taken over the desk that should have had your dear Mrs. Thompson behind it. The library had grown uncomfortable after that, so your visits diminished until they stopped altogether, this being the first time you’d even been in the area in well over a year. You hoped the old house didn’t hold a grudge for your disappearance, but there was to way to know unless it had somehow taken up English in the last few years.

It had not.

After a long moment of glancing around the front of the property, seeing the peeling gray-white paint and black trimming that had come apart along the porch’s front molding, the pots that you knew had once held real plants–you watered them diligently over the summer–long dead and replaced by fake plastic and silk ficuses, the patches of dead grass in a weedy lawn and the dark windows drawn closed with heavy curtains you could only faintly make out, you felt a kind of sorrow. In some way, the library wasn’t there. Asleep. It didn’t notice you, didn’t hear you, too consumed by the neglect of the caretaker who couldn’t be bothered to dust the shelves if it didn’t hold whatever new YA romance novels and New York Times nonsense paperbacks were popular at the time.

What I wouldn't give to get in there and just clean it up a bit, you thought, hand falling from the rail as you followed the cement and iron wall that surrounded the yard to the walkway that would lead to the private wood. Willing as you were with the time to do it, cleaning up would require talking to the new librarian–’new’ being a relative term by now, it had been a good six years or so since the changing of the guard–and you simply couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

The walkway darted straight along the wall, inclined slightly to follow the hill the forest sat on that would give you a clear view of the house, which was partly built into the hill itself in the back. Assuming it was the same as you remembered, you knew there was a room in that part of the house that held the very old, rare books that needed special permission to use as the room was always cool and dark and dry. For a moment, the dead leaves and cold air scent that had been your company for the walk was replaced by the faint memory of old paper, dust and bourbon. Mrs. Thompson swore up and down that the smell was due to the original owner using that room to store their liquor collection but you were never 100% sure after finding a flask tucked into a drawer of the desk in the corner of the storeroom with the letters MT engraved on it. Part of you wondered if, by some miracle, it might still be there waiting for a swig to be taken after a long night of cataloging and inventory. A wry smile turned your lips at the idea but like all of your thoughts at the moment, you pushed it aside, as it necessitated talking to the librarian.

Sarah Duhrn was not getting the satisfaction of your curiosity.

Leaves crunched and crumpled as you hiked the mild incline, the solid thud of boot-to-ground changing from cement to dirt as you moved off the regulated path onto the worn down trail formed by years of feet coming through and forging their own way, sidewalks be damned. Eventually it would level out and lead to a flattened portion of land where the fest was being held but that would still take a bit of walking to reach, your knees already aching as the leaves, now wet and matted with mud that never dried beneath the canopy, slid around underfoot. Banging your shins and getting soggy were not part of the game plan, but the sliding and stopping that jerked your body around like some kind of stringless puppet was almost worse in a way.

I don’t need to roll my ankle again, you told yourself, nails digging into the bark of a sturdy maple while you caught your breath.

With a not-insignificant amount of effort, you managed to drag your way to more stable ground at the top of the hill. At least here there was some semblance of a hiking path still etched into the ground, flattening the rise enough to allow you to balance on your own two feet properly. Begrudgingly, you took the time to scrape mud and detritus from your shoes against an upturned root, losing precious minutes of walking time simply to ensure you didn’t slip any more than the autumn ground already intended for you. Hopefully there would be positions open by the time you arrived at the fairgrounds that wouldn’t involve interacting with attendees sans costume, but none of it mattered if you busted your face or ankles up before then by being careless.

Satisfied with what you did manage to scour off your worn tennis shoes, you took a look around for an indicator of where the festival was going to be; vaguely, you recalled someone in the cafe where you’d heard about the sign up saying it was up in the old campgrounds, deep in the woods where the town’s lights wouldn’t interrupt the ambiance, but where that actually was you had no idea. “Summer camp” wasn’t really your thing growing up, even if it was technically just a four day weekend behind the library. Too many kids from school you didn’t feel like being in close quarters with, uninterrupted, for days at a time to make it worthwhile.

Taking a guess you weren't up far enough, you pointed your toes uphill and began to march, pondering the other details of the event you remembered from the cafe poster. Any other year, you might have passed up on the endeavor simply because the effort wasn’t worth it, but upon seeing the theme that had been voted on, you felt a glimmer of true excitement. For the first time in five years, they’d passed on the milquetoast ‘harvest’ and ‘pumpkin patch’ themes and dove back to the true root of Eerie Fest: actually being scary.

This year, they picked The Hedgerow House.

More of an urban legend than a scary story, there was hardly a teen or college freshman in the county who didn’t know about that macabre place–it was the main reason the campground had been so sought after this year. There was an old multi-story lodge on the property that was being decorated to resemble the forbidden building of legend, with the decor and spooksters–the nickname for the costumed actors given to them by well-meaning parents–being assigned a role as one of the denizens of the house itself. Supposedly, the goings-on of The Hedgerow House were the stuff of nightmares that only the most versed and prolific of horror fans would appreciate, from missing persons to mutilations, cult activity, inhuman creatures and enthusiastic cannibalism; each telling of the house was a bit different yet all claimed to be true. They couldn’t possibly water down this theme! Your excitement for a truly awful, memorable, unsettling Eerie Fest experience was all you wanted. To participate in something you actually cared about.

You were already called a monster by enough people in town, it only made sense to finally cash in on that title.

A rapid beeping struck your ear out of the blue, startling you from your thoughts. What was that? Reaching for your earbuds, you felt a bitter hand of worry grip your neck. One of them was gone! How? When?! Turning to look down the path, the worry grew into a near panic. How in the world could you find your lost headphone in this mess!?

You had to try, or that incessant beeping would continue as the paired headset tried to sync up again and again, fruitlessly. Muttering swears at your own misfortune, you trudged back to approximately where you cleaned your shoes, finding the mud scrapes relatively easily. The beeping stopped as you did, meaning the damn thing was hiding out somewhere nearby; it was bright white, so it should stand out pretty well against the dirt and leaves–right?

Even if it did, that didn’t spare you the time it took to rifle through the masses of plant matter, feeling the wet odor of decaying plant life cling to your sleeves and seep under your nails. Three–five–ten minutes later, it finally turned up, somehow nestled safely under the very root you’d used to clean your shoes. For a moment, you swore it hadn’t been there before, but you were too relieved to find it to question whether your eyes were playing tricks or if the forest had mischievous critters hiding around every bush that enjoyed your misery. Cleaning it off, you put it back in your ear–cold! Ugh.

You rose from the ground, losing hope you’d get to sign up on time at all at this rate.

The ground shifted.

Sopping leaves skid over each other, taking your foot with them with a crunch as gravel and twigs gave way. Your knee burned, taking the brunt of the slide you unwillingly found yourself having. Everything went pear-shaped as you landed with a whump on your back at the foot of the hill, staring up at the gray autumn sky between the treetops. Taking a slow breath, a guttural curse wound its way out of your throat.

“FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!”

Carefully, you sat up, wincing; the pain was mild, mostly just bumps and a wicked rug burn thanks to your jeans greeting the hillside on behalf of your thigh, but your pride hurt the most. How in blue blazes did you manage to fall down the damn hill so easily?!

Coming outside was a mistake, you decided, peeling your wet backside off the leafy ground with all the grace of a newborn horse. Home was sounding better and better by the minute, but as you peered up the way you came, you found this side to be the rear of the hill–and that it was overgrown with tall grass wherever the hillside itself hadn’t crumbled away into muddy shelves between gnarled roots. There was no way to climb back up without a ridiculous amount of struggle, enough so that you briefly contemplated just going to the campground anyway to spare yourself the hassle of walking around to managable ground.

Looking around for some indicator of what to do, your eyes glanced off of something odd hanging from a nearby tree. Picking over roots and fallen branches to keep yourself from tripping back into the mire, you approached the thingamabob as your brow creased. It was a sign–literally! Dangling from a single bolt so it swayed idly in the wind, the wooden arrow had been painted with a grayish wash and the words “The Hedgerow House” in blue, but it was chipped around the edges and worn out in places as if someone had taken a belt sander to it.

That’s probably exactly what they did, you realized, playing with it curiously. The sign was hanging upside down, pointing the opposite way from where it would if it had been secured properly.

This presented a mild dilemma. Assuming the sign was placed there on purpose by the crew to help wayward hikers like yourself find their way, that would make it a recent addition put there as part of the event. If that were the case, you had to wonder if the hanging sign effect was deliberate as a part of the horror theme, playing into the idea of worn out warning signs protagonists usually ignored or missed during their unfortunate descent into the terrors awaiting them. That being the case, the upside down arrow would be pointing in the right direction–the way you had been planning to go.

But a deep part of you felt like no one on the planning committee was that clever and the sign had simply been poorly secured, meaning it was indicating the opposite direction. The thought you’d been mistaken and had been walking off into the woods because you didn’t know where the campsite was supposed to be somehow made you both angry with yourself and almost disappointed you hadn't managed to go missing through pure stupidity. Maybe then someone would have cared enough to ask if you were safe and actually invest in your wellbeing.

Alas.

The missing headphone might have saved them the trouble, sparing you from a more embarrassing situation altogether by dropping you down the hill to see the sign in the first place. Deciding it was negligence making it hang off its support and not clever design work–honestly, how many people wouldn’t immediately think it was supposed to be read while hanging the correct way?--you turned your body toward the deeper part of the forest and started your march once again, keeping an eye and ear open for chatter and signs of human activity. Hopefully this hiccup would pan out and you could slip into one of the monster roles before someone else took the good ones.

The Hedgerow House, according to the collective zeitgeist online dedicated to sharing the stories about it, had a decent number of supposed residents in its walls. For a while, you’d been under the impression it was simply a new creepypasta based on how it reached your ear via overheard chatter between classes, but after a particularly stressful night of crap math assignments and a consideration that your English teacher was either an idiot or insane with how much they wanted your class to analyze every color choice of the cast’s clothing in… whatever book you’d been made to read at the time that you couldn't recall, you’d found yourself researching the name in an effort to amuse yourself. ‘Deep’ was not the word for the rabbit hole you found yourself in for the next few hours proceeding that google search. Only the faintest of anecdotes laced these tales together at all, making the pool of proof rather shallow, but there had certainly been enough to make one of those red string cork boards crazy people were shown having when they desperately wanted a connection to be made that supported their conspiracy. 

Tidbits of information welled up as you dug through your memories to try and sort out what you wanted to be at the fair; fixation was rare for you, as it was hard to maintain interest in something when there was no one to share it with, so like many things you tried to ‘get into’ through the years the research binge had lost its spark and faded into your memory over time. That didn’t stop the occasional resurgence though, as you had alerts for that topic still saved in your phone, even to this day. If something about that house came up at all, you eventually heard about it and got a refresher of the details–just poor luck you supposed that it had been a few years since the last real ‘update’.

Surprised by the fact it was not some Slenderman-type phenomenon where a fake spooky thing got popular enough that people forgot if it was real or not, this one was a genuine urban legend. Not even the ‘made up urban legend that became popular’ self-feeding loop where no one knew if it was the story or the content that came first. By your research, The Hedgerow House was a true creepy tale, possibly an amalgam of smaller stories about murder houses and missing persons being attributed to one place by retelling-telephone; it had been around for ages with sightings and news clippings dating back to the Great Depression and turn of the century at least. Hell, at this point, you felt that if it came out to be a really elaborate hoax you’d want to shake the hand of whoever did it simply for the effort they went through to convince everyone it was a real tale.

You’d still be mad though.

According to your vague memory of research, the earliest note of the elusive house had to do with another legend of The Blank Man somewhere in Colorado’s mountains and ranch country. Supposedly, if one wandered out to pasture late at night under a full moon, they’d risk meeting The Blank Man, a tall figure dressed in the duster and hat of a cowboy from the late 1800s whose face was just a bit off. Never, ever invite a stranger met at night to the campfire, you recalled, the stories themselves sharing that the stranger would stroll up out of the dark, all manners and agreeable words, sometimes with a horse or mule that was also off in some way, though other times he was alone. If allowed to sit, the others at the fire would be engaged in conversation about this and that but slowly notice the stranger just didn’t quite feel right.

Odd movements, facial features that appeared to change location or color or shape, too many fingers or not enough; the animal with him would be too large or too skinny, sometimes lacking fur or eyes altogether, also changing slightly every time someone dared to look at it. Eventually, the campers would realize the stranger’s features had simply given up and slipped away entirely, revealing a blank face under the brim of the hat like a mannequin. At that point, the stories about this cryptid man varied based on the reactions of the group he sat with.

If they reacted negatively to this faceless man, it ended very poorly for all of them. The details for being rude to the stranger you couldn’t really remember, but most of them were only shared in news reports of missing people being found days later after going to pasture and not returning. Cattle drivers in particular were pretty concerned about the presence of The Blank Man, as he supposedly liked to follow them, which he was wont to do when treated with respect. Pointing out his facelessness without freaking out had mixed results, some saying he’d leave out of shame and others swearing they had shit luck for days afterward with animals dying or feeling sick. The interesting part to you, though, were the two snippets that featured accounts where the campers had been unbothered.

The first was told by an older ranch hand, the kind who wouldn’t be out of place in a John Wayne movie, that had seen more things than any man should see out in the wilds of the Rockies and so was unphased by the appearance of The Blank Man. Outwardly anyway. At the time, he’d been alone at his post, watching for coyotes or other trouble that had been bothering the herd while his comrades had made camp further up wind. When the stranger approached, the usual chicanery commenced, the ranch hand noting the man’s eyes would often go dark and his face warp if stared at for too long. The ranch hand offered the man coffee, keeping his eyes on the cattle, and reported the conversation was slow but interesting. By the end, when the facelessness was revealed, the hand said he’d given the stranger a long look before offering him a refill of coffee.

Having run out of words and drink, the stranger left shortly after, thanking the ranch hand for his hospitality and disappearing into the night. Thereafter, they claimed the drive went off without a hitch, as if the predators had all given up on chasing them down; at the end of the article, the man swore up and down that when he looked behind him he’d see a rider on a dark horse that he couldn't make out as one of his fellows taking up the rear position. None of them would admit to being the one down that way, so he’d taken to pouring a cup of coffee at the fire each night for ‘the helpful stranger’ covering their asses.

The second notable story like that was very similar, however it happened to a group of campers that all swore by the same note that a man with an unreadable face had ridden past them on a tall, withered horse while they were roasting hotdogs and stopped just outside the fire light. They offered him a soda and a frank but he declined, telling them a moment later to not cross the river at the bridge nearby, which had startled all of them at the time as they were all backpacking that way for their outing and had been planning to do just that but didn’t say as much. Thanking him for the warning, he rode on; none of them could agree what he looked like, but they did collectively note he was tall and seemed just a bit off, which they chalked up to a trick of the light. The next day, they found the bridge they’d been warned about and opted to hike down river to the next crossing; later it was confirmed the tresses of the bridge had given out due to intense rain in the preceding weeks, causing it to collapse when another group tried to cross. One of them drowned as a result.

You were personally fond of the cryptids that had manners and rules as they were more interesting than the ‘fuck you and die’ kind.

How did those stories tie back to The Hedgerow House though? That had been your curiosity after reading the tales of camping gone wrong. From your reading of the research, stories about people with empty faces and bizarre fae-like rules of engagement had been appended to The Blank Man over the years, regardless of where they were from or if other features made sense such as the cowboy hat and weird animal companion being noted in the story or not. This evolution of the story had The Blank Man stop his moonlit meetups in favor of welcoming travelers into his cabin, usually on long, dark and rainy nights or when the person in question was in distress. Naturally.

What occurred thereafter was roughly in line with the original stories: unusual facial features, odd behavior or body proportions, polite attitude and a general dislike of people pointing out he was ugly or had no face. Most of the house-related tales devolved into hearsay along the way with none of them having many first-hand accounts due to the victims all supposedly dying. The method of death at least remained consistent, which you felt was the reason they were attributed to the same monster at all in the end.

The quality of terror dropped off significantly when the house-related stories got more common, likely as a result of people making up things to add to the lore so to say, but The Blank Man wasn’t the only victim of this habit. While noting down the other residents attributed to the house, you’d found a vague pattern in all of them where some regional critter or killer devolved from unique local terror to a D-grade horror trope after being forced into the ‘spooky house in the woods’ role. The most bizarre part of it though was the consistent description of the house itself that was used.

Indeed, the corkboard of red string had at least one major commonality justifying its metaphorical existence, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out if it was a coincidence or if all the fans had decided to default to the same description once they made up their minds about it. Regardless of the reason, it was certainly interesting to see each collection of stories describe the giant, paint-peeling walls, torn up yard of old fountains and sidewalks, the gothic roof and prevalent insistence of a gate bordered by dark hedges that separated the property from the surrounding woods. There was a reason it was called The Hedgerow House afterall.

Of all the things you learned about the collection of nasty things supposedly occupying this house at one time or another, it was the house itself that you kept coming back to each time you got an alert for it. Killer cryptids were great and all, but rarely did you find a literal building being called anything other than haunted, so you grew fond of the property more so than the supposed residents. While the denizens all eventually ended up assigned to the house somewhere along the way, only a few started in one right from the get-go. Most specifically, The Butcher and The Puzzlemaster–their stories strongly featured houses matching the description of the infamous residence, which you felt couldn’t be an accident given they were from opposite ends of the country and predated the internet itself.

By your own research, you would have thought The Puzzlemaster was some west coast tribute to H. H. Holmes and the Saw franchise had it not been for the shocking footnote that the original tale of the ‘house of infinite rooms’ was dated to the 1860s. Holmes had barely gotten out of diapers by then, and with some amount of conspiratorial thinking you’d wondered if he’d heard of this story growing up and if it led to his infamous murder hotel later in life. You’d been disappointed to learn Holmes was born in New Hampshire while Washington wasn’t even a state yet, making it extremely unlikely that the two were even remotely related. After your pride had recovered, you’d been able to find references to the house itself buried between the recountings of locals who claimed their own houses mysteriously acquired new rooms they didn’t recognize or remember and nurses at the hospital discussing the bizarre psychosis symptoms of some of the patients who talked about looping corridors and horrific puzzles that coincided with injuries they sustained.

All of them mentioned looking out a window and seeing a wrought iron gate framed by hedges, regardless of whether they had one or not themselves. This particular feature also appeared in the New England tale of The Butcher, who started out as a typical serial killer story until you backtraced it enough to some extremely old accounts of stories told of settlers–not by, unfortunately–who’d encounter a man in the woods wearing trapper furs and carrying an ax–more often than not they lost one of their party while fleeing. Given how old and vague these particular stories were, it was a wonder that any of them managed to cling to the idea that the manic woodsman was a miserable bloke that cut up people in his basement to use their meat for his dinner.

That basement, of course, belonging to a house with an iron gate framed by hedges in the front.

Over and over, the gate and hedges popped up eventually. Some of the details beyond that would come and go, such as the color of the house itself or the quality of the yardwork, but it always came back to the gate and the hedges without fail. Thus, The Hedgerow House.

The house that sat in the woods, alone, surrounded by dark hedges that never died, hugging an unrusting iron gate that opened only for the wayward and unlucky fools fated to walk its halls, never to return.

Or at least, most of them didn’t. The few stand alone accounts of the house that weren’t appended to other stories–the origin of the description if nothing else–all came from supposed survivors. People that had gone missing in the woods specifically, never from the same area, yet all absolutely certain they found an iron gate and hedges that let them into the yard. One of them had claimed he was let in by a man in a wide-brimmed hat with no face–in Michigan.

That was what had sparked the internet to lose their minds about the implication of a house that never stayed put full of monsters that snatched people out of the woods, tortured them, and then once in a while decided to let them go home. Any of the folks recovered from these supposed ordeals couldn’t recall details beyond the gate they first found and if someone or something had decided to come after them after they entered; beyond three days, they couldn’t remember anything at all, yet continued to carry the psychological effects of their trauma for years after. Folklore enthusiasts, ghost hunters and horror fans alike all pooled their knowledge together to determine the identity of the thing or things inside the residence based on the commonalities between stories matching the description of the house or the behavior of the monster within, resulting in the modern account of The Hedgerow House’s nine potential residents and their preferred methods of torture for the hapless victim they chose.

All of it was a fascinating case study of how scary stories evolved over time and you loved it for that, but more than anything you sought comfort in the macabre existence of the house for getting you through some rough patches growing up. Alerts seemed to come up whenever you were particularly downtrodden after something or other going on in your life that you couldn’t really control decided to mess up your plans and sense of comfort, which was rare enough as is. The idea of a house full of misfit monsters that existed outside of human rationale made you feel that somewhere out there was a place where you could fit in properly.

A laugh roused you from your thoughts as you trudged the unmarked path through the trees in the vague direction of the campground; a good amount of time had passed while you reminded yourself why you were going through the trouble of coming out this way at all simply to try and participate in an event themed around your beloved freak show collection. The sound had been your own voice as you mocked yourself for thinking there was anywhere for you to live peacefully, when you knew at its core that things like The Hedgerow House simply didn’t exist and the monsters in the stories were all made up at some point or another by people who didn’t know any better. There would be no reprieve for people like you.

You could never be so lucky.

The forest was oddly dark, you thought, peering up at the dense growth of the canopy that robbed you of the daylight. At least the setting would be decently atmospheric if it was this far into the trees. Some part of you was beginning to doubt, however. Unaware of the campground’s location or not, surely you’d have found another sign or some sort of activity by now, right? Had the sign tricked you after all??

That would be embarrassing.

To your relief, as you made your way around a large fallen log your eye strayed ahead to a collection of bushes–beyond which sat a large, worn out house. Grinning faintly, you sighed, glad to know you hadn’t managed to fuck up after all. Hopefully. Even if the house was visible, there was little else indicating whether or not anyone had even been around at all today.

With a sick chill, your heart began to pound. Had you fucked up anyway and gotten the wrong date? Was it next week? No, no, that would be short notice. No time to plan.

Maybe they’d quit early and simply went home?

Passing the bushes, you swallowed, finding your throat dry. Stuffing your earbuds into your pocket, you listened and looked, seeing no signs of tables or decorations. Not even a sign up kiosk.

Well, you decided, I can at least check out the locale.

The house was definitely in need of some TLC, but that worked out perfectly in your opinion, the walls worn and faded, showing bare wood underneath. One of the steps to the porch was pulled up at the edge, showing rusted nails and a cobweb tucked underneath; it probably creaked nicely when stepped on. Very spooky. If you did a good enough check, maybe they’d let you assist in planning the decorations? Really spruce up the hell house, take advantage of advanced warning about busted pipes and holes in the floor.

Reaching out to the dirty metal knob on the door, you felt a breeze sweep by, the leaves rustling and falling in that hissing cascade that always marked when something odd or mystical was about to happen. How fitting. You turned the knob, finding it unlocked.

Behind you, the sound of an old metal gate scraping the ground went unnoticed.

[starlightiing]

I'm barely able to hobble my damn ass around this spring fest but its been fun. Petting zoo, car show, old firetruck parade, lots of kiosks and snack stands...

My tiny, nothing, middle of absolute nowhere town put together something super cute. I just wish I wasn't in so much pain and could actually walk and withstand more. I'm drained and we've only been here 4 hours 🥺

But we did have "mini donuts" (the shop keep asked us to scope out the other kiosks and see what their prices were LOL. And we did. They were the cheapest at the fest!)

I only took a picture of one car - it's a Thunderbird. James Bond edition. My fiancé is obsessed with James Bond so I figured I'd show him lol.

I'm ready to sleep until race time now pls 😭

[pikespeakzinefest]

🔸🔷 ➡️ How to get here: ⬅️🔷🔸 Here's some photos of the venue to help you find Pikes Peak Zine Fest! We'll be in the same building as before in downtown Colorado Springs, but it's just got a new name - The Hall. 📘📙📓 You can find The Hall down W. Pikes Peak Ave. behind the Penrose Library off of Cascade Ave. Turn into the Antlers' Garage Penrose Public Library Parking, and the entrance to The Hall will be at the back of the lot. Once inside, you can follow the signage in the building via elevator or stairs (it's a bit of a maze, but just keep going) to get to the zine market on the 3rd floor. See you soon!!! 👋 📘📙📓⁠ Sat, October 7, 2023 (1 - 5 pm MT)⁠ ⁠ PPLD's The Hall (Formerly known as KCH)⁠ 20 W. Pikes Peak Ave.⁠ Colorado Springs, CO⁠ 🆓 Free to attend! 😷⁠ Masks required & we wil have some free ones available at the door! 🚙 There is metered parking (now with a pay kiosk that enables you to use card vs coins) at the entrance to The Hall, street parking, and also a parking garage across the street. 📘📙📓

[blog-aventin-de]

Was heißt bürgerlich · Reinhard Baumgart

Was heißt bürgerlich · Reinhard Baumgart · Satire

Kein Zweifel, das Wort »bürgerlich« hat einen schlechten Ruf. »Gutbürgerlich«, so nennen sich nur noch Gasthöfe, Mittagstische in der Provinz, und dort bedeutet das: keinerlei Übertreibung ist in solchen Häusern zu erwarten, weder in Preis noch in Qualität ... eine letzte Erinnerung an die gute alte Zeit, an den Duft der kleinen engen Welt. Eine »gutbürgerliche« Zigarette oder Fluglinie empfiehlt sich nirgends. Mit diesem Wort kann nichts verkauft werden, es hat keinen »appeal (Reiz)« mehr, drin sitzt der Muff. Wer bürgerlich ist, und das sogar mit Übertreibung, der möchte doch bitte nicht mehr so genannt werden, dann das hieße ja soviel wie keinen Schwung haben, nicht dynamisch und aufgeschlossen sein oder, mit einem Wort: nicht jung, und genau das kann sich heute niemand mehr leisten. Merkwürdig, dieser schlechte Ruf eines Wortes, das als Begriff doch auf den verwaschenen Gesamtzustand unserer Gesellschaft immer noch passt. Mindestens wie die Faust aufs Auge. Man kann es mögen oder nicht mögen, man mag es drehen oder wenden, wie man will, diese eine Banalität steht fest: Wir leben hier in einer von oben bis unten bürgerlich eingefärbten Gesellschaft, noch, aber auf vorerst noch unabsehbare Zeit. Dieser Klasse, dem dritten Stand der Französischen Revolution, ist es als erster in der Geschichte gelungen, die Gesellschaft nicht nur von oben zu beherrschen, sondern sie auch zu durchdringen, ihr bis weit nach unten diesen ihren Güte-Stempel »bürgerlich« aufzudrücken. Es existieren zwar Randzonen, und es existiert sicher ein Proletariat, aber auch das möchte am liebsten nicht mehr so genannt werden und lieber bürgerlich leben. Es gibt heute nichts mehr, was es noch in den zwanziger Jahren gab, was es in Sizilien, Indien oder Mexico City heute noch gibt: eine »Kultur der Armut«, eine Alternative? Da so alles »pluralistisch«, wie die Ideologen sagen, stärker oder blasser diese eine Farbe trägt, kann der Begriff »bürgerlich« offenbar alles und somit fast nichts meinen. Bürgerlich wird die Subkultur bereits zum Wirtschaftsunternehmen ausgebaut, verbürgert ist die SPD, aus dem Bürgertum kamen auch die Intelligenz und die Wut der APO. Muss man denn bis nach Kuba oder bis nach Afrika reisen, um endlich ein Außerhalb zu diesem pan-bürgerlichen Kosmos zu entdecken? Ich jedenfalls habe in den letzten Jahren nichts selbstzufrieden Bürgerlicheres gesehen als den »Schwanensee«, getanzt vom Moskauer Bolschoi-Ballett. Das muss eine wunderliche Revolution sein, die fleißig die Basis umwälzt und im Überbau versteinerte Vergangenheit genießt. Für den, der nur auf die Basis starrt, wird freilich im Handumdrehen alles klipp und klar - er sieht auch bei uns, jedenfalls auf dem Papier, ganz messerscharfe Klassenfronten. Bürgerlich ist dann nur, wer Produktionsmittel im Besitz hält. Mich interessieren an dieser Definition eher ihre Lücken als ihre theoretische Reinheit. Nur nach ihr dürfte sich der junge Manager zu den »lohnabhängigen Massen« zählen, ein Kiosk-Pächter dagegen wäre ein Mehrwert-Verdiener. Das alles hat bestimmt seine Logik, nur keinerlei praktische Bedeutung. Nur dann, wenn man das Wort historisch betrachtet, verliert es seinen verschwommenen pluralistischen Glamour, dann erklärt sich auch seine Zweideutigkeit oder Verlegenheit. In ihm steckt Vergangenheit, eine schöne und eine steckengebliebene. Denn was heute so muffig oder schummerig wirkt, das hatte ja einmal fast rötlichen Glanz. Im Interesse des Bürgertums sollte vor ein paar Jahrhunderten die Geschichte ruckhaft vorwärts bewegt werden, und bessere Parolen als Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité sind seitdem nicht ausgerufen worden. Doch verwirklicht wurde von den Parolen nur die Gleichheit von Bürgertum und Adel (die niemanden mehr interessiert), dann die freie Welt als Welt des »free enterprise«, und vor allem: das brüderliche Angebot an alle, teilzuhaben an der bürgerlichen Kultur, an Brahms und Schwedenmöbeln und Leistungsethos mit dem dazugehörigen Ruhe- und Ordnungsbedürfnis. Sehr brüderlich ist gerade dieses Angebot nicht. Schon das Bildungsprivileg sorgt dafür, dass für den größten Teil der Bevölkerung die String-Regale und ein Volkswagen SUV immer noch erschwinglicher sind als Strawinsky, Bergman oder Kafka. Doch gerade dort oben im bürgerlichen Überbau dämmert es seit geraumer Zeit am auffälligsten. An der Basis sitzt man trotz drohender Mitbestimmung noch einigermaßen fest in den Positionen. Da oben aber werden immer seltener jene gutbürgerlichen Werte verkauft, mit denen innerlich ausgerüstet man vor Jahrhunderten in die Stellungen einer damals herrschenden Klasse einrückte. Das Souterrain ist auch schon unruhig, wird noch unruhiger, der Dachboden aber ist bereits so morsch, dass man dort auf den Zusammenbruch des ganzen Hauses längst gefasst ist. Von da oben ist ja das Gerücht vom Ende des Bürgertums auch ausgegangen und hat sich gehalten trotz allem gelungenen oder halb-gelungenen »crisis management«. Wer seine Umsätze steigen, seine Lohnempfänger konzertieren, seine Aktien haussieren sieht, kann diese Unkerei nicht ver- und nicht ausstehen. Alles klappt, aber diese Auguren sehen immer schwarz. Für sie, die aus den bürgerlichen Kulturresten weissagen, ist, was so rüstig fortlebt, schon das Ende. Und tatsächlich: Wenn man der Geschichte des bürgerlichen Idealismus nachgeht, dieser Geschichte einer ständigen Verfinsterung, von »Kabale und Liebe« zu Becketts »Endspiel«, von Puschkin zu Tschechow, von Beethoven zu Weber, von Schelling zu Heidegger, dann muss man nicht einmal weissagen, wenn man aus Agonie aufs Ende schließt, und ist auch kaum leichtfertig, wenn man trotzdem keinen nagelneuen Anfang dagegen zu bieten hat. An Sowjetrussland ist zwar zu lernen, dass eine Ideologie ihre Klasse überleben kann, aber dass eine Klasse den Zusammenbruch ihrer Ideologie unangefochten überdauert, das ist noch nicht vorgekommen. Kein Wunder also, wenn Produzenten im Überbau sich am lautesten verabschieden vom Bürgertum, wenn sie schon so tun, als wäre »bürgerlich« nicht nur etwas nicht ganz zeitgemäß Schickes, sondern auch etwas ganz und gar Moribundes. Sie übertreiben, sicher, schließlich sind sie noch Mitglieder dieser bürgerlichen Gesellschaft und höchstens utopisch, in Gedanken schon draußen. Aber sie gehen täglich mit Beweisen dafür um, dass bürgerliche Kultur ihre progressive Phase längst, aber auch ihre defensive schon lange hinter sich hat. Wie sollten sie auf dieses abgekämpfte, wenn auch zähe Pferd noch setzen? Es ist möglich und wäre nicht das erste Mal in der Geschichte, dass eine Kulturrevolution der politischen voraus läuft. Was heißt bürgerlich · Reinhard Baumgart · Satire Read the full article

[dorkyparksdad]

Pixar Fest Marketplaces at Disney California Adventure

Beginning May 10th, 6 themed marketplaces join the Pixar Fest fun in Disney California Adventure for the length of the festival. Each location celebrates a unique film, and menu items will transport you and your tastebuds right into some fan-favorite Pixar worlds. Here’s a little taste of what to expect at each outdoor marketplace kiosk:  1.) Elemental Table – Enjoy a playful mélange of…

[lokaleblickecom]

Integrative Gewerbekontrollen - Behörden zeigen klareKante

Gemeinsame Pressemitteilung von Polizei und Stadt Duisburg: Duisburg (ots) - Auch in diesem Jahr setzen die Polizei Duisburg und die Stadt Duisburg unter Beteiligung weiterer Netzwerkpartner die Null-Toleranz-Strategie und die Politik der "kleinen Nadelstiche" im Kampf gegen die Clankriminalität fort. Im Rahmen eines behördenübergreifenden Schwerpunkteinsatzes kontrollierten Polizei, Mitarbeitende des Bürger- und Ordnungsamtes der Stadt Duisburg sowie Steuerfahnder am Mittwochabend (31. Januar, 18:45 - 23:30 Uhr) Gewerbeobjekte im Duisburger Stadtgebiet. Zunächst kontrollierten die Einsatzkräfte eine Spielhalle auf der Weseler Straße im Stadtteil Marxloh. Weil die Betreiberin des Lokals in der Vergangenheit gegen zahlreiche Rechtsnormen verstoßen hatte, untersagte der Fachbereich für glücksspielrechtliche Angelegenheiten, Sonderaufgaben Gewerbe der Stadt Duisburg den weiteren Betrieb der Spielhalle per Ordnungsverfügung. Diese wurde zwischenzeitlich gerichtlich bestätigt. Da der Betrieb trotzdem geöffnet hatte und sich 15 Personen dort aufhielten, muss er mit der Festsetzung eines Zwangsgeldes in fünfstelliger Höhe rechnen. Als nächstes kontrollierten die Netzwerkpartner ein Lokal mit angrenzendem Kiosk auf der Kalthoffstraße. Weil zwei Männer, die in der Gaststätte hinter dem Tresen standen, keine plausiblen Angaben zu Ihrem Arbeitsverhältnis machen konnten, schrieben die Polizisten einen Bericht an die Finanzkontrolle Schwarzarbeit des Hauptzollamtes Duisburg. Bei der Kontrolle des Kiosks stellten die Einsatzkräfte fest, dass der Betreiber neben den dort zu vermutenden Waren auch Ampullen mit Testosteron, unversteuerte E-Zigaretten, Steroide und Potenzmittel anbot. Die Polizisten stellten die Sachen sicher und leiteten Strafverfahren - unter anderem wegen des Verdachts der Steuerhinterziehung und Verstößen gegen das Arzneimittelgesetz ein. Das Bürger- und Ordnungsamt ordnete die sofortige Schließung und Versiegelung des Kiosks an. Auch bei der anschließenden Kontrolle eines weiteren Kiosks auf der Bahnhofstraße in Obermeiderich entdeckten die Kontrolleure unversteuerte E-Zigaretten, die zum Kauf angeboten wurden. Die Beamten stellten die Zigaretten und ein Plagiat einer Rolex-Uhr, die dort zum Kauf auslag, sicher und leiteten auch in diesem Fall Strafverfahren gegen die Betreibenden ein. Bei der Kontrolle des letzten Gewerbes für diesen Abend - eine Spielhalle auf der Lehnhofstraße im Stadtteil Beeck - stieg den Ordnungshütern bereits bei Betreten des Objektes der Geruch von Marihuana in die Nase. Der Betrieb lenkte das Interesse der Ordnungshüter ursprünglich auf sich, weil der Verdacht bestand, dass der Betreiber sich nicht an die glücksspielrechtlichen Vorgaben hält. Schnell hatten die Einsatzkräfte den Ursprung des Geruchs lokalisiert: Bei der Durchsuchung des Tatverdächtigen (27) entdeckten sie neben mehreren leeren Druckverschlusstüten und einer Feinwaage auch Marihuana und einen Block Haschisch. Weil sie davon ausgingen, dass er mit den Drogen handelt, leiteten die Polizisten ein Strafverfahren wegen Handeltreibens mit Betäubungsmitteln ein und stellten alles sicher. Auch in dem Betrieb wurde das Bürger- und Ordnungsamt wieder fündig und leitete wegen Verstößen gegen die Spielverordnung Ordnungswidrigkeitenverfahren ein. Bildunterschrift: sichergestellte Betäubungsmittel Read the full article

[schorschidk]

Mit Zeus und Wirby durch die 80er: Comedy-Führung im Badischen Landesmuseum

Am 9. und 10. Dezember werden die Lachmuskeln trainiert. Denn dann kommen die beiden bekannten Radio-Moderatoren Sascha Zeus und Michael Wirbitzky ins Badische Landesmuseum. Auf dem Programm steht eine Comedy-Führung durch die Ausstellung „Die 80er – Sie sind wieder da!“.

Erinnerungen an ein buntes und wildes Jahrzehnt

Die Ausstellung führt durch das wilde Jahrzehnt, das auch beim erfolgreichen Comedy-Duo emotionale Erinnerungen weckt. Damals in ihren Zwanzigern waren sie hautnah dabei und können vieles berichten. Und so schwelgen sie beim Anblick der Kreidler Florett von 1982 auch gleich in Erinnerungen an ihre damaligen Motorräder. Zum Titel der Titanic von 1980 mit dem Bruderkuss von Leonid Breschnew und Erich Honecker mit der Überschrift „Fortpflanzung ohne Frauen!“ stellen sie fest, dass diese Art von Humor heute nicht mehr möglich wäre. Angetan haben es ihnen aber auch die Kleider im letzten Ausstellungsraum. Es handelt sich dabei um typische Mode der 80er. Sie schlüpfen gleich in die bunten Fummel und albern herum. So kennt und liebt man sie.

Interaktive Führung soll Teilnehmer zum Mitmachen anregen

Bei der Führung wollen die beiden aber nicht als Alleinunterhalter performen, sondern das Publikum aktiv mit einbeziehen. Was haben die Teilnehmenden in den 80ern erlebt? Welche lustigen Anekdoten können sie erzählen? Das passt auch zum Gesamtkonzept der Ausstellung, bei der man dem Landesmuseum Gegenstände aus den 80ern einreichen konnte. Diese werden zusammen mit den anderen Exponaten in einem Kiosk gezeigt. Dazu kommen Mitmachstationen wie ein Musikquiz oder Spieleautomaten.

Vielleicht schauen auch Peter Gedöns und Katrin Vierthaler vorbei. Das sind die beiden Comedy-Charaktere von Zeus und Wirby. Peter Gedöns aus Bonn-Poppelsdorf (Michael Wirbitzky) ist allwissend, immer schlecht gelaunt und schimpft gerne auf alles und jeden. Wen oder was aus den 80ern wird er sich wohl verbal vornehmen?  Und welche Zusatzinformationen kann er liefern? Katrin Vierthaler (Sascha Zeus) ist eine etwas fülligere, aufgedrehte Bajuwarin, die Probleme mit Fachausdrücken hat. Wird sie etwas zum Rubrik, äh, Rubik Cube sagen, für dessen Lösung selbst der Erfinder einen Monat gebraucht hat? Die Teilnehmenden dürfen gespannt sein.

Für das leibliche Wohl ist auf jeden Fall gesorgt, denn es gibt einen kleinen Umtrunk mit Wein und Häppchen.

Weitere Informationen zu den Comedy-Abenden im Badischen Landesmuseum mit Zeus und Wirby am 9. und 10. Dezember gibt es hier: Comedy-Führung mit Zeus und Wirby (karlsruhe-erleben.de)

Copyright Foto und Text: KTG Karlsruhe Tourismus GmbH

[minifrenchfry-kabbit]

It certainly didn't feel like a day that would result in a near-death event.

In fact, Benji had felt more calm and at peace than he had in weeks, patiently waiting for his charge to wrap up her study group so he could take her home. It'd been too nice of an early evening to wait in the car, so he'd been leaning against the passenger door, arms crossed and eyes closed.

This side of town usually proved safe enough for him, so he didn't think much of letting his guard down, enjoying the cooling breeze ruffling through his fur, thankful that the oppressive heat of the summer was finally being usurped by the encroaching autumn.

His focus was elsewhere, considering what to do with night off he had to look forward to. If Lopey managed to finish her assignments, maybe they could pick up a few movies, and some snacks on the way home for them all to enjoy.

They hadn't had a real family night since their beach trip during her break from school, and with no shift to work or plans set in stone, being sweets-binging couch potatoes was an enticing start to the weekend. Maybe even Pup could play hooky from the kiosk and join their lazy lump fest, he could always send a text while he waited, to see if he'd be interested.

And even if he didn't, maybe he'd work up the gumption to finally have that talk with Fynn.. once Penny had succumbed to the inevitable sugar coma.

He'd try anyway. He was about sick to death of his own cowardice on that front.

With a quiet sigh, he pulled his phone from his jeans' pocket and started on that invite text to Rohan, when he was abruptly halted by a cloyingly sweet stench in the air, horrifyingly familiar and nearly making him reflexively gag on the reek of it.

The shakes began immediately, and his phone went crashing to the pavement, the licorice scent fogging his senses, making his attempts to get back into his car to escape it ineffectual.

What rational thought was left, was shattered by the source of the sweet miasma making herself known, suddenly feeling himself being slammed back against the car by a much shorter figure, accosted by a ripping grip to his shoulder fur, and a pair of hateful yellow-purple eyes.

Absolutely paralyzed with shock and fear, her malicious voice barely penetrated the traumatic haze that clouded his mind, trembling paw clawing, fumbling at the door handle to try and retreat, though she'd leaned her hip against it to prevent it from opening, even if his desperation eventually lent him some capability in operating it.

"You better fucking listen to me when I'm talking to you, rapist Rusty! I don't know how, but I know you're responsible for it! You won't get away with it, I'm going to make you pay for hurting my boys!! YOU HEAR ME??"

Her voice was a snarl and her nose was wrinkled with disdain and rage, eyes burning with malice. Even if her words weren't muffled by sheer panic and his brain trying to shut itself down from the rising trauma, he'd have absolutely no clue what she was insinuating.

Before he could attempt to formulate a response, anything.. ANYTHING to get her mind-breaking candy scent and horrifyingly familiar weight off of him before his soul gave out from the hysteria rooting him in place -.. she was suddenly gone.

Ripped away from him with a vicious scream and yelping from a sudden assault of her own, Benji staring at the fight taking place in front of him without at first comprehending that it was Penny who had come in like a little bat from hell to pull Josephine off of him.

No sooner than this fact had pierced the trauma fog of his brain, that the thrashing combatants had edged closer to the semi-busy street, noticing the flash of a switch-blade his former tormentor had pulled from a pocket, bleeding from several scratch wounds and clearly intent to inflict some damage of her own, her shrieking unintelligible.

White-hot rage surged through him, overpowering the ice that had kept him paralyzed, and he charged toward the two to snatch Josephine's knife-hand moments before she attempted to put it to deadly use, gripping tight and wrenching the arm up toward the air as far away from his charge that he could manage.

The need to protect overpowered his terror of her, and he wrestled to try and gain control of the knife, fully prepared to break the bitch's fingers if it meant the weapon was no longer a threat.

In the midst of the chaos, Penny - whom had still been trying to assist him in disarming their dangerous assailant, was savagely kicked into the street in the path of a fast-encroaching car, and with a roar of equal rage and dismay, Benji yanked them both into the street to try and reach the prone, stunned teenager.

"LOPEY!! THE CAR!! .. GRK..!"

Taking advantage of his preoccupation with Penny, the same knife was re-seized and plunged into his side, it's wielder desperate for the freedom to get out of the path of the car that had swerved around the girl, and was careening for them both, going far too fast for the brakes to be utilized in time to circumvent disaster.

The shock of excruciating pain was more than enough for the smaller rabbit to slip free of his grasp, just as the furiously honking car, with a too-late squealing of over-taxed bald tires, slammed into them.

Benji had tried to lurch out of the way - he was sure of it, desperation for his own life and the ever-prioritized life he was tied to, ticking down in the seemingly contradictory eternal and fleeting seconds before the car made impact... but it wasn't enough.

Pain the likes of which he'd never felt before as the car simultaneously struck and he was bodily thrown over the hood, and top of the car, crashing hard onto the asphalt behind, that knocked the wind out of him, wheezing and rolling onto his side, vision and hearing blurring and deadening down to a muffle.

His ears were ringing from the force of which his head had met tarmac, and he was vaguely aware of a warm ooze of pooling magenta blood soaking into the fur of his cheek. The pain was so intense that it was beginning to numb, shock setting in as he lay there, wheezing around newly broken ribs.

There was a cacophony of chaos around him that he was oblivious to, blissful black invading the corners of blurred vision, before his eyes were forced to shut, vaguely wondering as they closed, if they would ever open again.

A wheezed apology was uttered into the bloody gravel before his consciousness was completely stolen away, unaware of anything else that centered around his rescue and emergency triage.

---

The next he woke, he was hooked up to beeping machines, and only able to see his heavily bandaged body through one blurry eye, feeling stuffy gauze wrapping the other half of his face and limiting his vision.

Pain was muted due to the painkillers being pumped directly into his soul, the same of which he could feel would soon be putting him back under in a medicated coma.

His immobilized arm was slung against his bandaged chest, one leg casted and hung up in a medical hammock to keep movement limited, and every wheezed breath stung like fire.

He recognized that feeling at least.. his ribs had been rebroken, among the rest of the currently insurmountable damage that had been done via car and knife.

But.. he was alive.

The allaying thought drifted through his quickly-fading mind, a sudden flare of panic making him reflexively try to rise, when he remembered that Penny had narrowly avoided being hit herself, with a sudden desperation for assurance that she had fared better in the aftermath than he had.

Unfortunately, the tsunami of pain that struck from even his feeble attempt to move from his sickbed, made him black out anew, visible eye rolling back as his bandaged head lolled toward his shoulder, the rising crescendo of harrowing beeping lulling back to a more neutral rhythm as he unwillingly slept.

[takeoffphilippines]

AirAsia Philippines’ biggest travel fest aims to boost international trips this summer

The World’s Best Low-Cost Airline is supporting the healthy return of international leisure travel this summer with AirAsia Fly Fest, the biggest travel festival that will offer the best-value deals on airfare and tours.

Riding on the popularity and marketability of the double-digit campaign, more than 170,000 seats are up for grabs from as low as PHP33 for domestic and PHP833 for international per one-way base fare with the 3.3 Travel Fest.

AirAsia Philippines Head of Communications and Public Affairs Steve Dailisan said “This festival will surely delight bang-for-the-buck seekers and revenge travelers who want to make their travels memorable and affordable this summer. As an airline that pioneered low-cost travel in Asia, we remain responsive to the changing needs of our guests who deserve nothing more than convenience, great value deals, and world's best service. We hope to see you there."  

Happening on 4 March 2023, at the BGC High Street Central, AirAsia Fly Fest will also showcase booths such as visa processing and international food market, which are all aimed at providing hassle-free travel, and a taste of what AirAsia destinations have to offer.

Guests will also be welcomed with surprise performances and exciting prizes and games during this whole-day affair.  To get updates on the Fly Fest, guests are invited to follow airasia SuperApp's FB page.

The World’s Best Low-Cost Airline is inviting its guests to regularly visit the airasia fly safe page, airasia newsroom, and airasia Super App social media platforms Facebook and Twitter for flight schedules and other travel advisories.  

Guests on international flights are also reminded to be at the NAIA Terminal 3 at least four hours before their scheduled flight to seamlessly facilitate check-in, security, and immigration procedures. AirAsia is also advising guests to make it a habit to do their self-check-in via the airasia Super App, or via the AirAsia kiosks at the airport.

–

📧 If you wish to send an invite and feature your province/company brand/event; Just ask the author of this vlog, email us at team.takeoffph@gmail.com

Follow our Social Media Accounts: Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/TakeOffPHBlog

Instagram/Twitter: @takeoff_ph

Website: https://takeoffphilippines.com

Subscribe to our YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/c/TakeOffPhilippines

[thedailykaijuu]

Cola Fest!

[theharrowing]

Smile Pretty for the Camera

Namjoon's good friends Jimin and Jungkook are always coming up with schemes to make extra money, and when he learns they plan to shoot a porn he's not too surprised. They are, after all, the hot, confident power couple of the friend group. What Namjoon does not expect, however, is Jimin confessing that he would like to rail Namjoon while Jungkook films.

🎥 Namjoon x Jimin + a hint of Jungkook 

🎥 word count: 11.7k

🎥 platonic sex, poly, smut, fluff, slash, nsfw, 18+

🎥 warnings: Just two bros platonically having sex on camera! top jimin & bottom namjoon, (rough) blow job, ass to mouth, anal fingering, anal sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, healthy communication!

🎥 written for the Bottom Joon Fest!

🎥 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🎥 posted aug. 2022 | read on ao3

Jimin: Hyung! SOS! Are you busy?

Namjoon stares at his phone and sighs. He's in class, so he's technically not busy, but he's not not busy.

Namjoon: In class. What's up?

Jimin: Jeonggukie and I have a favor to ask you. Call when you have a sec?

Namjoon: Sure.

When it comes to Jimin and Jeongguk, there's truly no telling what sort of favors they may be asking for. Though never too illegal or truly nefarious, they're always up to something, usually over-the-top. 

Namjoon watches the clock for the next thirty minutes, antsy to hear what his friends want from him. As the member of the friend group who cooks the least and doesn't have a driver's license, he tends to be on the mastermind side of schemes rather than the guy who gets called to participate. That's typically Yoongi or Hoseok, or Seokjin or Taehyung if they’re in the mood. 

Once class is over, Namjoon stops off at the café kiosk just outside of his building to grab an iced coffee, anticipating a night of studying to come. Unless, of course, whatever Jimin and Jeongguk need involves him staying up late...one can never be sure what to expect. 

The line is always short right when Namjoon gets out of class, and he lucks out, quickly grabbing an iced beverage and heading toward his on-campus apartment. Once he's a block from the more crowded area, walking beneath ginkgo trees that have begun to drop their yellowing leaves, Namjoon takes out his cellphone and calls Jimin, who picks up on the first ring. 

"Hyung," Jimin pants, "hey, uh, are you busy tonight?"

Namjoon should say he is busy. Next week is the beginning of his mid-term exams, and he likes to get a headstart on his studying. But against his better judgment, Namjoon says, "Nah, what's up?"

"So—uh—here's the thing, we—um—Jeongguk and I—" Jimin stammers nervously. 

In the background, Namjoon can hear Jeongguk huff and say, "Give me the phone, Jiminah."

Namjoon scoffs. Jimin, of all people, does not get nervous easily. Whatever he wants to ask for must be pretty big. 

"Joon-hyung," Jeongguk says over the phone. 

"Hey Gguk," Namjoon responds before taking a sip from his iced coffee. 

"I'm just gonna cut to the chase. Jiminah and I have been scheming ways to make money."

"As you do," Namjoon interjects.

"Right. Yeah. So, would you—uh—be willing to—" Jeongguk clears his throat and mutters, "Shit, why is this so difficult," under his breath. 

"Wanna meet up for drinks?" Namjoon suggests. He, Jimin and Jeongguk are far looser with their lips and their moral codes after a couple of drinks.

"S-sure," Jeongguk says, "yeah, let's do that. What time is good for you?"

"I'm almost home. I can drop off my stuff, clean up and be ready in an hour? 7ish?"

"Sounds good."

"Usual spot?"

"Yeah, cool, see you then, hyung."

"See you troublemakers then," Namjoon says and hangs up. He shakes his head and chuckles to himself. Whatever these two have up their sleeves must be a real doozy.

Jimin and Jeongguk are more done up than usual, and especially for this mediocre bar just off campus, they really stand out. Jeongguk's long, dark hair hangs in waves over his eyes, and he deviated from his norm of drowning in oversized clothing to wear a tight black turtleneck tucked into fitted blue jeans. 

Jimin has his dark hair coiffed on one side, hanging over his forehead on the other, and he wears a purple turtleneck tucked into bright blue slacks. Both men have chains glimmering over their shirts, and they look gorgeous—always the most stunning two in the room—but Namjoon wonders if they would rather relocate to a club where they would blend in a bit more. 

Namjoon also wonders if he should have tried a little harder with his outfit. He looks good in his simple black long-sleeve shirt and dark blue jeans, but he didn't accessorize, and he feels very dressed down next to them. The bar they're in is a run-of-the-mill college bar with all wooden everything covered in scratches and graffiti, with patrons dressed as if they just got out of class, so even compared to this scene, Namjoon put in some effort.

"Shots?" Jimin suggests before even saying hi, and Namjoon chuckles and says, "Sure, if that's what you want!"

Jimin scurries off to the bar, and Jeongguk stays with Namjoon, leaning against the tall table he stands at. Sometimes, if they're lucky, they can score a few stools, but it's crowded tonight, so they lean with their elbows against the sticky surface.

"So, you guys have been scheming again?" Namjoon asks, breaking the tense silence. 

Jeongguk nods, staring toward the bar where Jimin is, in a daze. "Wanna get a pitcher?" he asks.

"Sure," Namjoon responds, chuckling at Jeongguk's deflection. He must want to wait for Jimin to return, which is fair. 

"I can get that quick," Jeongguk offers, and Namjoon nods. He had already held down the fort long enough; he doesn't mind doing it again while the boys get libations. 

Namjoon doesn't have to wait long, despite how crowded the place is, and he watches as Jimin comes cradling three shots in his tiny fingers, and Jeongguk carries a pitcher of beer in one hand and three stacked, frosted glasses in the other, only moments later. 

"Bottom's up!" Jimin shouts the moment the shots hit the table, and Namjoon grabs one and waits for Jeongguk to empty his hands and grab his. 

They shoot back the sweet clear liquid that might be strawberry-flavored vodka, and everyone winces and frowns through it. Namjoon does the honor of pouring everyone pints of beer, taking the shitty first pour that's mostly foam for himself, and hands Jimin and Jeongguk theirs. 

Jimin stands closest to Namjoon and occasionally looks like he wants to say something, but then bites his bottom lip and says something completely unrelated to their scheme. It's easy to pass the time bullshitting with the two of them, and Namjoon doesn't mind waiting; Jimin has endless stories from his dance class and teaching internship, and Jeongguk is always working on some strange videography project. 

It's when Namjoon is emptying the pitcher into their cups, only partially filling each one, that Jeongguk offers to get another pitcher, and Jimin leans a little too close to Namjoon, muttering, "Yes, please, I am nearly ready to confess my heart to this buff, pretty man."

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and scoffs as he walks toward the bar, and Namjoon holds his hands open, ready to catch Jimin in case he wobbles himself completely off-balance. Although Jimin acts like an absolute fool, he's far from being drunk; he very quickly becomes touchy and light on his toes and may appear wasted to the untrained eye when he is merely tipsy.

"Confess your heart?" Namjoon teases, voice coming out a little lower than he anticipated. 

Jimin blushes and straightens himself out, turning toward the table. Namjoon can tell he's avoiding eye contact, making him appear even cuter; shyness really suits Jimin. "Joonie-hyung, how comfortable are you with being filmed?"

Namjoon is surprised by the question, mainly because Jeongguk has filmed him before for his various projects, and while Namjoon isn't always the most comfortable, he can typically ease into it and do what needs to be done as long as it doesn't involve too much acting. 

"You know I don't mind being filmed. Does Jeongguk have another project that he needs help with?"

"N-not exactly," Jimin says, eyes still on the table.

"Is this related to you two trying to find ways to make money?"

Jimin blushes, and Jeongguk returns with a fresh pitcher in his hand, looking between Jimin’s shy expression and Namjoon’s curious one. "Catch me up," Jeongguk says as he picks up Namjoon's glass and begins to fill it. 

"Jimin asked me if I feel comfortable with being filmed, and I told him, of course, I'm happy to help you two with a project."

"Ah," Jeongguk says, placing Namjoon's beer down. "It's not exactly a project, hyung. It's more of a, uh...business venture..."

Namjoon racks his brain trying to come up with what he could possibly help the two of them with, business-wise. He can't really dance, and that's the only business he knows of that Jimin is involved in. 

"What kind of business?" Namjoon asks.

"Porn!" Jimin shouts, then pulls his beer to his mouth to take a big gulp.

Oh. "Oh."

Jimin does not elaborate and Jeongguk pinches the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed shut. Videography student Jeongguk and contemporary dancer Jimin making money by fucking on camera comes as no shock to Namjoon, but he can't figure out where he fits into the equation. Jimin and Jeongguk are a couple—and a hot couple at that; what would they need him to be involved for? The only thing he can think of is—

"You want me to film you two having sex?" Namjoon asks. 

"N-not exactly," Jimin mutters. 

Jeongguk takes a drink of his beer, sets it down, and straightens himself out, suddenly appearing more self-assured. "If we're going to break into the porn market, we gotta do this right. Soft lighting, intentional camera angles...things that would only come as second nature to me." 

"S-so you would be behind the camera?" Namjoon clarifies.

Suddenly the room feels very warm. Namjoon shifts on his feet and tries not to appear as nervous as he is beginning to feel. 

"That's right," Jeongguk says.

"And you want me t-to—"

"Fuck me," Jimin interjects, looking at Namjoon with wide, worried eyes. "Well, actually, we want me to fuck you. I-if you'd be into that sort of thing."

Namjoon isn't necessarily shocked by their scheme; he just never really thought something like this would happen. Jimin and Jeongguk have both called Namjoon handsome and are very loose and free with complimenting him, especially lately as he's begun to bulk up; he just wouldn't have expected they would want him sexually.

"Hyung," Jeongguk says, "please say something."

Namjoon pulls himself from his thoughts, blinking and looking between the two of them, who stare back nervously. 

"Are you sure?" is all Namjoon can think of to say, and he's not sure why he bothers asking such a question when they clearly are sure; otherwise, why would they go through the hassle of asking him in the first place. 

"Which part?" Jimin asks.

"Th-the entire thing," Namjoon says, clearing his throat. Suddenly he's the one who can't look either of them in the eye, and he fidgets with his glass of beer between his fingers. "I mean, obviously, there are some risks involved in filming porn, but you already know about that, and I trust you two to make the right choices for your bodies."

Namjoon swallows a lump in his throat, attempting to gather his thoughts before be can continue. "But—but me? You want me? You two are smoking hot, and Jeongguk could always set up the camera and tell me what to do if you wanted to both star—"

"I want you," Jimin interjects.

Namjoon's words die in his throat, and he tears his eyes from his pint to look at Jimin. Jimin, who is so beautiful and so, so handsome. Jimin, with his tight, muscular body and pouty, pretty lips. Namjoon's heart beats heavily, and he feels as if the air has suddenly shifted in density.

"Me?" Namjoon asks again, feeling dumbfounded.

Jimin nods, and Namjoon looks to Jeongguk, who watches Namjoon with a curious expression. 

"Wh-why?"

Jimin scoffs and takes a step closer, directly into Namjoon's personal space. Namjoon can smell a light, citrus and floral scent coming from Jimin, and he inhales a shaky breath.

"Why?" Jimin asks incredulously, looking at Namjoon as if he's just said something unbelievably ridiculous. "Well, for starters, you're fucking hot."

Namjoon can feel his cheeks fill with warmth, and he wonders if, under the dim bar lights, they can see him blush. 

"You're also sweet and trustworthy," Jimin continues.

"And someone as big and buff as you getting topped by a pixie like Jimin would bring in bank," Jeongguk adds.

"You wouldn't mind watching your boyfriend fuck me?" Namjoon asks, glancing between Jeongguk and Jimin. 

Both men smirk and Jeongguk shrugs as he says, "It was my idea."

Namjoon picks up his beer and takes a slow, long drink as his head absolutely spins. Getting fucked by Jimin does sound like a dream come true, and there's something about Jeongguk watching that he finds enticing. He just struggles to wrap his head around the thought of them wanting him.

"What do you think, hyung?" Jimin asks with a pout, jutting out his pretty lower lip. Namjoon melts a bit and chuckles, allowing himself to consider the idea without feeling so tense. 

"I'm flattered," Namjoon starts. "And I'm—I would definitely let you fuck me." Now his cheeks are blazing hot, and Jimin's wide, eager smile doesn't help matters at all. "I guess I'm just a little shocked, is all. But I'm not opposed to the idea...I am nervous about being filmed having sex, but I trust you guys."

"Really?" Jimin asks excitedly, bouncing up and down. 

Jeongguk chuckles at Jimin, then he leans on the table, eyes on Namjoon. "If you decide at any point you want to stop and scrap the entire thing, we won't argue or ask any questions. And you'll be included in whatever money we make, if things go according to plan, obviously. We want you to feel like an equal, and we want you to be comfortable."

"You really think it would be hot to watch Jimin fuck me?"

Jeongguk's eyes glimmer with something dark and playful. "Even if you didn't want to be filmed, I would still be very interested in watching that."

"Really?" Namjoon knows he should stop feeling so surprised, but he can't help it.

Jeongguk cocks an eyebrow and plays with his lip ring with his teeth. "Absolutely, hyung."

"When?"

Jeongguk shrugs, and Jimin looks between Jeongguk and Namjoon expectantly.  

"Tonight is probably too soon," Jeongguk mutters.

Tonight is definitely probably too soon. It feels overwhelming and intimidating, and Namjoon becomes dizzy at the thought. But, he wonders when he wouldn't feel that way. 

Namjoon chugs the last half of his beer and says, "Yeah, tonight might be too soon, but I don't think I would ever really be ready, so...we could try it tonight...i-if you wanted to."

Jimin's face brightens with excitement, mouth falling agape, and Jeongguk smirks as if trying to bite back his surprise. 

"Alright," Jeongguk mutters. "Shall we?"

Jimin and Jeongguk slam their glasses of beer. There's still a little more beer leftover in the pitcher, but they abandon it. Jimin links hands with Jeongguk and with Namjoon and tugs them along to the exit. No words are spoken on the walk back to their apartment; they only live six blocks away, in the same student apartment neighborhood as Namjoon, which is part of why they frequent that bar.

Outside their complex, Jeongguk walks ahead to unlock the front door, and Jimin continues to hold onto both of them, forming a little chain of bodies. Namjoon likes the feeling of his hand being tugged forward by Jimin's smaller hand. He likes the warmth, both physically and emotionally, as he's led to do something he still can't quite wrap his head around but that he wants very much. 

Jeongguk and Jimin live on the second level at the end of the hall. For the most part, the complex is quiet, with some music coming from an apartment here and there, and Namjoon hopes that whatever noise they make won't be easily heard in the hallway. 

Once inside the apartment, Jeongguk kicks out of his boots, pulls from Jimin's grasp and moves into their small kitchen. Jimin and Namjoon kick off their shoes awkwardly; Jimin doesn't let Namjoon go, limiting their range of motion. 

Jimin giggles as he hobbles free from his shoes and falls into Namjoon, and Namjoon allows Jimin to lean his body against him, holding his arm up as if to catch but not going in for an embrace; not yet. Jeongguk returns with a glass of water and smirks, nodding his head toward their bedroom. 

"Ready?"

"Maybe," Namjoon mutters with a grin, suddenly feeling shy. 

Jimin tugs Namjoon through their apartment, into the bedroom. He has been there many times, but this time the air in the apartment feels heavy, and Namjoon is full of nerves. He asks himself if he's really going through with this and bites down on his bottom lip to hold back a smile. 

Namjoon pauses in the doorway of their bedroom and Jimin tugs him along to the bed and pulls him to sit down. Namjoon sits on the soft blue comforter, and it shouldn't feel like such a big deal; he's sat on the edge of their bed many times and has even laid between them to watch movies, but this time feels different. This time feels laden with anticipation.

"There are a couple ways we can do this," Jeongguk says, walking around the room to gather his video equipment. "We could start filming and then get into the groove and ignore the fact that there's a camera until you're comfortable enough, or we could make out, get you a little relaxed, and let you decide when to film."

Namjoon looks between his hand in Jimin's grasp and at Jeongguk across the room, letting the options swim around his mind. Although there's not very much to consider, he struggles to make a decision. Jimin gives Namjoon's hand an encouraging squeeze.

"I would like to save any of the more sexy stuff beyond making out for the camera so that the reactions are genuine," Jeongguk continues, "but I don't think it would make a huge difference to the audience if they weren't, so it's up to you and whatever makes you comfortable. We're shooting porn, not an art film."

Jeongguk, who had been checking the display on his video camera—probably for battery or space percentages, Namjoon assumes—sets the camera down on a leather office chair that's facing the bed, and he approaches Namjoon.

"Hey, hyung, are you good?" Jeongguk asks, kneeling before Namjoon and taking his free hand in both of his. 

Namjoon's heart races, and he knows he must look terrified, so he smiles and looks at Jeongguk kneeling before him, then at Jimin, to his right. "I'm good. It's...kind of a lot. But I'm into it."

"Should we kiss a little first to warm up?" Jimin asks, giving Namjoon's hand a gentle tug.

Namjoon turns to Jimin and lets out a heavy exhale. From this distance, Namjoon can see a light dusting of pink eye shadow that he missed at the bar. Jimin always looks so devastatingly pretty, and with just a hint of makeup, he's even more breathtaking. 

"Yeah," Namjoon mutters, "that would be nice."

"Can I kiss you too?" Jeongguk asks, and Namjoon turns to find Jeongguk sitting high on his knees, grinning. 

"Yes," Namjoon all but whispers, turning back to Jimin, whose hand gently takes the side of Namjoon's face and pulls him close. 

Namjoon's entire body is abuzz with excitement as Jimin inches closer. When their lips touch, Namjoon takes Jimin's soft, thick bottom lip gently into his mouth and sucks, pulling a soft whimper from Jimin's throat. 

The noise, the touch, and the gentle floral and citrus scent that fills Namjoon's nose all burst and swim fiercely through him, from his head to his toes, pooling and swirling and threatening to flood him all at once. 

Jimin's mouth falls open with a deep moan, and Namjoon licks against his tongue, groaning as Jimin's tongue laps at his in return. Jimin tightens his hold on Namjoon's head, squeezes his hand, and licks into his mouth, and Namjoon moans and trembles, letting himself fall pliant for Jimin to do whatever he pleases as a tingle of arousal travels from Namjoon's tongue, straight to his cock. Jimin tastes and smells and feels like heaven.

A hand on Namjoon's chest rubs up towards his throat—a sensation he enjoys quite a bit—then grips onto his shirt and tugs him forward. Jimin releases his lips, and Namjoon turns just in time for Jeongguk to be the only thing he can see, so close, Jeongguk barely pulls Namjoon down to slot their lips together. 

Jeongguk kisses deep and hungrily, licking and sucking and groaning into Namjoon's mouth with a force that makes him dizzy. Jeongguk's hand snakes around Namjoon's neck and grips onto his skin and hair, and Namjoon whimpers and attempts to keep up, swirling his tongue against Jeongguk's whenever he has a chance. 

"You're hogging him," Jimin whines as his hands take Namjoon by the hair and neck and pull him back to the side, to where Jimin is getting onto his knees on the bed and towering over Namjoon. Jeongguk releases Namjoon with a smirk and rubs his hands over Namjoon's chest, and Jimin leans down to lick over Namjoon's lips before sucking the bottom one between his teeth.

Namjoon has never been so overwhelmed with desire. He feels like Jimin and Jeongguk are a wildfire threatening to consume him whole and leave nothing behind but a pile of ash. Two hands squeeze Namjoon's thighs, and the tightness of his pants reminds him just how hard his cock is.

"Joonie-hyung seems to really like us," Jeongguk says in almost a teasing tone. 

"Is that so, baby?" Jimin asks against Namjoon's lips. "You like us, hmm?"

"Of course I do," Namjoon whines into Jimin’s mouth, and yeah, wow, all at once, he is acutely aware of just how turned on he is. 

Jeongguk's hands continue to rub over Namjoon's thighs, and Namjoon wishes Jeongguk would touch him, even though he knows that's Jimin's duty, and he wants to be so good for Jimin. 

"Wanna keep making out, or do you want to get started?" Jeongguk asks. 

Jimin releases the kiss, and Namjoon opens his eyes to find him smiling so sweetly at him. "No pressure, baby; we want you to be comfortable," he adds.

Namjoon thinks he might actually burst into flames if he doesn't feel at least some kind of release, but the build-up is so delicious, it's hard for him to choose. 

"Let's make out more, but on camera?" Namjoon suggests, surprising himself by how eager he is despite how nerve-racking the idea of making porn with two of his best friends is. 

Jimin's face lights up, and Namjoon feels whiplash from how soft and sweet and small he can seem while also being so fucking sexy, with a presence that feels massive. Jeongguk's hands slip down Namjoon's legs, and he sees from the periphery as Jeongguk picks up his camera and takes a seat in the chair. 

"Remember, we can stop at any point," Jeongguk says. "You have full control, hyung. And even if we get through the whole video and you decide you don't want us to use it, we won't."

Namjoon feels a swell of affection fill him as he looks between Jimin's bright, sweet smile and Jeongguk's concerned one. He shifts his body, so one leg is up on the bed, and he's facing Jimin, while the other leg hangs off the edge. "I know I'm in good hands with you guys," he says, turning back to Jimin. "I'm not worried."

"Gonna hit record," Jeongguk says. "And...we're filming."

Jimin stays where he is, kneeling on the bed while cradling Namjoon's face in his hands and smiling softly. Namjoon can see the camera pointed at him, but he keeps his eyes on Jimin and focuses on his breathing. 

"Smile pretty for the camera," Jimin says softly, and Namjoon pulls a cheesy smile that makes Jimin fall into a fit of laughter, hands sliding onto Namjoon's shoulders. It takes a moment for Jimin to straighten himself out, and when he does, he returns his hands to Namjoon's cheeks. 

"How are you doing, hyung?" Jimin asks. 

"Good," Namjoon mutters.

Jimin turns to the camera with a smirk and says, "My boyfriend is going to record me fucking this big, sexy hunk of a man. How exciting."

"Dear god, Jiminah," Jeongguk whines from behind the camera. 

"Poor boy won't be able to touch or play. Just has to watch." Jimin turns back to Namjoon. "Which is a shame because he wants to fuck you so bad, baby. And you're all mine."

"Is that so?" Namjoon mutters weakly while Jimin's words ricochet through his mind. 

Jimin hums and leans in closer. "We talk about it all the time. About how sexy and sweet you are. About how badly we wanna choke on your cock. I bet you have a huge cock, don't you, baby?"

One of Jimin's hands—the one closest to the camera—moves down over Namjoon's chest, past his tummy, until Jimin's fingertips are at his waistline, over his shirt. 

"May I touch you?" Jimin asks, and Namjoon nods, small shallow movements while feeling a tad dazed. 

"Yes," Namjoon mutters, "please."

Jimin's hand continues down, fingertips grazing over Namjoon's bulge, and then he grips him firmly in his palm. Jimin's eyes widen as Namjoon groans from a mix of pain and pleasure that courses through him as his cock is squeezed over constricting pants.

"Oh, Ggukie, he feels so big," Jimin whines. "Good thing I'm fucking you tonight; Joonie-hyung could break my tight little ass in half with this thing."

Namjoon is absolutely floored by the filthy words coming out of Jimin's pretty mouth, and all he can do is sit and watch in awe as Jimin palms his cock over his jeans and pouts. The visual of making Jimin cry on his cock is enticing but nowhere near as exciting as the prospect of what Jimin will do to him. 

While Namjoon is open to exploring sex in all avenues and dynamics—safely and within reason—he loves being held down and overpowered, turned into a whimpering, sobbing mess. People always assume that because Namjoon is big and strong and has a big cock, that he prefers to be the one in control. But they're wrong. Namjoon is sensitive and cums easily and repeatedly, and with the right partner, overstimulation feels like heaven.

And, of course, Jimin and Jeongguk know this because he's talked and, at times, complained about it over pints with them before. As his best friends, they've heard all about his gripes with people wanting a dynamic that he doesn't prefer. Jimin must just be teasing the audience and perhaps Jeongguk with the visual of Namjoon fucking him, so he plays along.

"You're right," Namjoon smirks, "I don't think you could handle me."

Jimin's eyes widen, and he squeezes Namjoon's cock through his jeans, making Namjoon hiss and moan from the pressure. "Already giving me a fucking attitude, baby? Am I going to have to put you in your place?"

Namjoon chuckles, though his heart pounds so hard he's dizzy. "I would love to see you try."

Despite having consumed beer—and one overly sweet shot that Namjoon would like to forget entirely—he feels sobered up. There's a haze of intoxication that swims in the air, draping over Namjoon like a thick fog, but he thinks that it's mostly thanks to Jimin and Jeongguk.

Jimin's hands leave Namjoon, and he fights the urge to whine and to grab them and place them back on his body—anywhere he'll touch. But Jimin reaches back to undo his necklace and toss it onto the bed, away from where they sit, and then he begins to untuck his purple turtleneck from those bright blue slacks he wears.

Although the shirt is so tight it leaves almost nothing to the imagination, Namjoon watches with bated breath as Jimin gathers the bottom of his shirt and pulls it over his head. Jimin's body is all taut muscle and golden skin with hints of black ink here and there, and the sight has Namjoon's mouth falling open. Namjoon has seen Jimin change shirts in the past, and has been swimming with him on more than one occasion, but he’s never gotten to gawk openly at him before, and Jimin’s body has never been his to explore until now.

"Like what you see, baby?" Jimin asks, tossing his shirt to the floor.

"I love what I see," Namjoon mutters, swallowing all the saliva that's pooled beneath his tongue before he drools it down his chin.

Namjoon reaches for the hem of his shirt to get equally undressed, and Jimin reaches forward and slaps his hands away. "Let me."

"Yes, sir," Namjoon says teasingly, and Jimin smirks as he reaches for the bottom of Namjoon's black shirt. 

Jimin tugs the garment up, sitting high on his knees, and Namjoon raises his hands in the air to assist. Once the shirt is high enough, Namjoon lowers his arms, pulling the sleeves somewhat inside out, and feels the cool air of the room hit his skin. Jimin's hands are on Namjoon's chest in seconds, and he rubs down over Namjoon's pecs and up, palming over his nipples, sending a shudder through Namjoon. 

"Damn," Jimin mutters, staring at Namjoon like a man entranced. "Close the gyms."

Namjoon chuckles and reaches out to take Jimin by the waist. "You're one to talk; your body is fucking perfect."

"Shut up and fucking kiss me," Jimin moans, snaking his hands around Namjoon's neck and pulling him into a kiss more eager than the last. Namjoon pulls Jimin closer, practically toppling them over and smiles as Jimin attempts to climb onto his lap. 

"Get all the way on the bed," Jimin commands, pulling out of the kiss but not letting Namjoon go. 

Namjoon scoots, attempting to position himself with his hands while Jimin leans back in for a kiss. When Namjoon is closer to the center of the bed, Jimin pushes him down, making Namjoon's breath hitch when his head hits the comforter, and straddles him while licking into his mouth and sucking on his lip. 

Jimin sits over Namjoon's cock and rolls his hips downward, teasingly, and a burst of pleasure shakes through Namjoon. He moans and loosely holds onto the belt loops of Jimin's pants as Jimin's mouth and hips drive him wild. 

"I want to take my time with you and make you an overstimulated, whimpering mess, but I'm not sure that's suitable porn footage," Jimin whines against Namjoon's lips. 

The idea of Jimin slowly unraveling him until he's crosseyed and begging for mercy is definitely on Namjoon's list of things he wants more than anything in this world, but Jimin is already undressing him and touching him, so he won't complain.

"I'll edit this, so do whatever you want," Jeongguk says, and Jimin smirks against Namjoon's lips, sending a shiver down Namjoon's spine and straight to his cock. 

"Whatever I want, hmm?" Jimin groans.

Namjoon looks Jimin in the eyes, knitting his eyebrows with desire, and says, "Yes, please."

Jimin sits up and runs his hands over Namjoon's torso, down to his pants, scooting his ass back so he can undo Namjoon's fly. With his zipper open and Jimin continuing to crawl backward while he pulls his pants completely off, Namjoon feels nervous once more. 

As soon as Namjoon's legs are free of denim, Jimin's hands are on him, rubbing up and down his thighs and spreading him wide. Namjoon bends his legs, letting Jimin touch and do anything he wants while his cock throbs against his briefs. 

"God, you're hot," Jimin says, squeezing the insides of Namjoon's thighs. He turns to Jeongguk and mutters, "Are you jealous yet?"

Namjoon looks between Jimin and Jeongguk's camera, feeling a hint of trepidation from the word jealous being thrown around. Jeongguk chuckles and says, "Hyung does look incredible, but I have no reason to be jealous, baby. I want you to have fun with him."

Jimin rolls his eyes and huffs as if exasperated and pouts, "For the sake of the porn, you should be jealous, silly," making Jeongguk laugh.

"Believe me, baby," Jeongguk purrs from behind the camera, tilting his head to look Namjoon in the eye, "there are so many things I have dreamt of doing to Namjoon-hyung. But for today, he's all yours."

Namjoon's heart races as he holds Jeongguk's gaze. Jimin crawls up Namjoon, straddling his hips and pulling his face forward to look at him, and Namjoon's breath hitches seeing him this close once more. 

"So pretty," Namjoon whispers, and he can feel himself smiling like an idiot. "You're so fucking pretty, Jimin. Lemme see the rest of you."

Jimin stares at Namjoon for a split moment as if stunned, then blinks himself back to the present and grins. Jimin tends to get easily flustered, especially when he's trying to be in control of whatever situation is at hand, and Namjoon is intentionally trying to push his buttons. 

Namjoon is trying and succeeding. Jimin grips onto Namjoon's pecs, digging his tiny fingers into the skin and taunts, "Trying to tell me what to do, big boy?"

Warmth floods Namjoon's cheeks, and he bites down on his bottom lip, raises his eyebrows and challenges, "And if I am."

"How rough can I be with you, hyung?" Jimin asks softly, snaking a hand from Namjoon's chest to his jaw.

Namjoon has also spoken at length with Jimin and Jeongguk—also usually while drunk—about how rough he likes it, about how he likes to be fucked hard, treated like a slut and forced into submission. He knows Jimin isn't really the type to dominate—at least from the conversations they've had, he doesn't think he is—but he knows Jimin enjoys taking control and making others bend at least a little to his will. 

"As rough as you'd like, pretty," Namjoon groans, trying to keep his composure but panting as Jimin's fingers grip onto him tightly and squeeze, pushing his lips into a pout.

"God, you have such a pretty fucking mouth, baby," Jimin groans, leaning close, and Namjoon's gaze falls to Jimin's equally pretty lips. "I bet these lips would look so good around my cock."

Namjoon's entire body responds to Jimin's words, arousal licking at every nerve, covering him with warmth. Jimin smirks, and Namjoon wonders if his face gave his desperation away; his eyes always tell on him. 

"I changed my mind; I want you on the floor, on your knees," Jimin commands, giving Namjoon's jaw a little squeeze before letting him go. Jimin shifts onto his side, falling onto his butt on the mattress with his legs still tangled over Namjoon's hips, and Namjoon sits up and does as he's told, untangling himself and getting onto the floor on his knees.

Jimin stands and undoes those damned bright blue pants and shimmies out of them, then takes his place in front of Namjoon. Namjoon watches intently as Jimin rubs his hands up his own body, then down, over his pecs, his tummy, over dips and curves of muscle, until his fingertips are on the waistband of his briefs. 

"I wonder if hyung has a gag reflex," Jimin teases as his thumbs dip under the fabric and tug. 

Namjoon's eyes follow the movement, trailing between Jimin's thumbs and his impressive bulge, and he licks his lips in anticipation. 

"So eager, baby," Jimin teases. "I see you licking your lips; I bet you can't wait to taste me, can you?"

Namjoon's mouth falls open as a shaky exhale escapes him. and he looks up into Jimin's eyes and mutters, "You're right; I can't wait."

"Tell me how badly you want my cock."

Namjoon swallows hard, eyes trailing down Jimin's body, to the bulge in his briefs, and back up his golden, muscular torso to his face. "I bet your cock is just as pretty as you are," Namjoon mutters. "I bet you taste so sweet. I bet you can make me cry, too. Would you like to try?"

Jimin's eyes widen, and he grins down at Namjoon as his thumbs hook under the waistband of his briefs and pull, revealing his thick, pretty cock. Namjoon's mouth falls open at the sight of Jimin's rosy cock head slick with precum, and he feels the overwhelming urge to worship every inch of Jimin and take his time making him feel so good. But he knows Jeongguk is filming and will have to edit, so he places his hands on his knees and opens his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out.

"You want this cock in your mouth, baby?" Jimin teases, stroking one hand up his length. 

Namjoon watches as a bead of precum pools on the tip of Jimin's cock and feels the saliva pool under his tongue. He nods eagerly and mutters, "Please," and sticks his tongue back out.

Jimin reaches out to take Namjoon gently by the head, lacing his fingers through his hair as he tugs him closer. Namjoon leans forward, allowing himself to be pulled, keeping his eyes on Jimin's pretty face, and Jimin pushes his hips forward and taps the tip of his cock to Namjoon's tongue with a giggle. Namjoon whimpers, eager for more.

"You want me that badly?"

Namjoon pleads with his eyes and nods his head, whimpering "uh-huh" with drool dripping from his tongue onto his chin. Jimin pulls Namjoon's head closer and places his cock on Namjoon's tongue, gracing his taste buds with a heady sweet and bitter taste, and Namjoon desperately wants more, but he sits pretty and waits for instruction. 

"Suck," Jimin commands.

Namjoon closes his lips around Jimin's cock and slowly begins to suck, leaning forward and gripping his knees in his fingers. Jimin's cock stretches Namjoon's lips and feels heavy on his tongue, and Namjoon keeps his eyes on Jimin's pretty face as best as he can as he slowly sucks and groans. 

Sweet, pitchy whimpers fall from Jimin's lips, and Namjoon wants to suck hard, wants to choke Jimin down and make him whine, but he takes it slow, knowing Jimin will get impatient and take control—knowing Jimin will eventually make him gag and cry, which is precisely what he wants. 

Jimin holds Namjoon's hair firmly and begins to move his hips, and Namjoon does his best to keep up, sucking in his cheeks and swirling his tongue as much as he can, hoping to encourage Jimin to want more—to take more.

"Can I fuck your throat?" Jimin asks softly, and Namjoon opens his eyes wide and attempts to nod his head and mutter yes, but the sound and movement are muffled and small.

Jimin pulls his cock all the way out, and drool and spit drip between the tip and Namjoon's lips, down Namjoon's chin. 

"Yes, please," Namjoon says.

With a grin, Jimin shoves his cock back into Namjoon's mouth, into his throat, and he holds it firmly in place until Namjoon is forced to swallow and begins to gag. Jimin pulls out and asks, "Too rough?"

Namjoon grins as he responds, "No, I like it like that," then opens his mouth wide once more.

Jimin slides his cock into Namjoon's throat, adjusts his stance, and keeps a hand in Namjoon's hair while the other grabs him under the chin. Like this, Jimin's cock constricts his breathing even more, and he can already feel tears pool in his eyes. 

"Pinch me if you need air," Jimin says softly as he pulls his cock back. Namjoon takes a breath in through his nose, and Jimin's hips buck forward, filling Namjoon's mouth and hitting his throat so perfectly.

The urge to gag is light, and Namjoon breathes through it, determined to be so good for Jimin. He keeps his eyes up, focused on Jimin's pretty face and chest, and finds himself attempting to smile despite his mouth being stretched over Jimin's length. Jimin must notice, and he smiles sweetly and bites his lower lip.

Then Jimin's expression changes to something dark and needy, and he begins to roll his hips and fuck Namjoon's mouth. Each thrust is steady but firm, hitting Namjoon's throat at a pace that Namjoon can breathe through and enjoy. But then he begins to speed up, and Namjoon struggles to keep rhythm.

Namjoon loves this. Loves submitting and being so good—loves being used for someone else's pleasure. His own cock throbs for attention, but the sight of bliss on Jimin's face, tugging his brows into a gentle frown while his mouth hangs open, is all the satisfaction Namjoon needs in this moment, and he drinks it all in as if he's starved for it.

"Fuck, your mouth is so good, Joonie," Jimin whines. 

Jimin's eyes flutter closed, and his head lolls back, and Namjoon watches as Jimin's body trembles with pleasure; listens as moans and whimpers fall from Jimin's lips. 

"Gonna choke you on my cock and then cum on your tongue, so be sure to hold it out for me like a good boy," Jimin groans.

Jimin's eyes find Namjoon's once more, and although Namjoon's vision is beginning to blur from tears, he keeps them open and stares up at Jimin as best as he can. Anticipation has Namjoon's heart beating hard, and as Jimin presses his cock firmly into Namjoon's throat, constricting his airway once more, Namjoon's mind goes blank.

Bliss. Bliss and admiration and desire are the only things Namjoon can process, and if there are coherent thoughts swimming around in that brain of his, he currently does not have access to them. The urge to gag builds and builds, and Namjoon swallows it down until he can't. He feels tears pour from his eyes in hot streaks down his cheeks as his throat convulses and fights for air.

Jimin pulls out, and Namjoon gasps but opens wide, blinking through the tears while he sits pretty and waits for Jimin to cum. Warm viscous release hits Namjoon's cheek and lip first, then lands on his tongue, and a giggle slips through Jimin's moans as he strokes himself to completion over Namjoon's face. 

Namjoon stays with his hands on his knees and his tongue stuck out, showing Jimin how good he is, and waiting for the command to swallow. Jimin releases Namjoon's hair and runs his hand over Namjoon's face, thumbing over the cum that splattered on his cheek and gathering some of it.

"Swallow for me," Jimin commands softly, and Namjoon does as he's told, closing his mouth and savoring the taste of Jimin before swallowing it. Namjoon opens his mouth again to show off his clean tongue, and Jimin presses his thumb against it, rubbing more of his release into his taste buds. 

"Did you like that?" Jimin asks with a wide smile. His pupils are blown and dark, and sweat glistens on his forehead and neck, making him devastatingly pretty.

"I did," Namjoon mutters with a hoarse voice, throat sore from being used so roughly. "Thank you, Jimin."

The two of them smile and stare at one another for a moment, and then Jeongguk pipes up. "Let's break here and have some water?"

Namjoon is thankful to Jeongguk, who sets down his camera and leaves the room with an empty glass to fetch them some water. Although he's used to going through sexual sessions without stopping to soothe his aching throat, he's with his friends, doing them a favor, and he would like this to turn out as good as possible for them.

Jimin sits on the bed and pats it, inviting Namjoon to join him, and Namjoon groans as he stands, feeling stiffness in his limbs from being bent against the floor for so long. When Namjoon sits on the bed beside Jimin, Jimin wastes no time wrapping him in a tight side hug, pinning his arms to his sides while his chin rests on his shoulder. These types of hugs are customary from Jimin, but he's never felt one while topless and covered in sweat, and he revels in the new feeling of warm skin against warm skin.

"Are you having fun?" Jimin asks sweetly.

Namjoon attempts to turn his head to look at Jimin, but his eyes can only really see his lips. "I am," he croaks hoarsely, "I'm having a lot of fun."

"Good. I am too. I've wanted to do this for a long time."

Namjoon scoffs and says, "What? Shoot a porn?"

Jimin releases Namjoon from the hug and smacks him on the shoulder, making Namjoon yelp in surprise and turn to face him. An adorable glare tugs at Jimin's features, and he says, "No, I've wanted to fuck you for a long time, you idiot!"

"Ah," Namjoon responds, suddenly feeling a bit shy and more than a bit silly. "That. I, uh...I guess I've thought about it before, too."

Namjoon is not helping his case at all, and when Jimin lands another smack against his arm and pulls his face into a wide incredulous look, Namjoon cowers away from his friend.

"You guess you've thought of it before?" Jimin shouts. "Wow, casanova, you sure have a way with words. No wonder you're chronically bitchless!"

It's Namjoon's turn to look at his friend with a wide, incredulous expression and Namjoon fights the urge to tackle Jimin. "I'm not chronically bitchless; I'm focusing on school!" he squawks defensively, and Jimin raises his eyebrows and nods as if to suggest he doesn't buy it. 

"And also!" Namjoon continues, "It's not that I haven't wanted to fuck you too, it's just...I don't know, you guys are my best friends, how can I admit to you that it's something I've wanted without it being weird? How would that make your boyfriend feel?"

"I'm cool," Jeongguk responds, and Namjoon turns quickly to find Jeongguk standing before them, holding out a glass of water to him. Namjoon takes the water and slowly drinks from it, grateful for the soothing feeling in his throat. "Trust me, Jimin won't shut up about wanting to fuck you; he's talked about it for years! But we never knew how to approach the topic, or even if we should, so we just...haven't."

Namjoon is surprised by Jeongguk's candor, but at the same time, he's not. Jimin and Jeongguk have been together for ages and have often entertained the idea of threesomes and having a more sexually open relationship if the right person came around. He just never expected that person would be him. 

"I mentioned earlier that there were things I've thought about doing to you, so it's no secret that I also want to fuck you," Jeongguk continues. "And obviously, I don't want you to feel any pressure to do anything with me after you two are done. We're friends, and I respect the friendship. I'm happy either way."

It's a lot of information at once, and Namjoon isn't sure what to say, so he doesn't say anything. Jimin takes the glass from Namjoon's hands, and Namjoon realizes he'd been spacing out at a spot on Jeongguk's shirt, and when he blinks out of it, he finds Jeongguk watching him with a calm, unmoved expression.

"We could discuss it," Namjoon says softly. He would like it if he and Jeongguk got a turn too, but that's something to talk about later. 

"Alright," Jimin says, setting the glass on the bedside table. "How should we position ourselves so we're ready to cut into a scene where I start fingering this big boy open?" Namjoon’s breath hitches from Jimin’s words and Jimin sends him a cheeky wink.

Jeongguk directs them to get back onto the floor in a similar position and begins to record again from the same spot but pans around, thinking he can somehow transition into it. Not that it matters, he mutters aloud as he sets the shots up, and Namjoon finds it endearing that he's taking the task so seriously. 

"Get on the bed for me," Jimin instructs as he turns to the bedside table and grabs a bottle of lube from it. "I want you on your hands and knees, big boy."

Namjoon scrambles onto his feet and gets onto the bed, as close to the center as he can before Jimin is behind him, pressing his chest down against the mattress and rubbing his hands over his ribs and hips and over his ass. 

"It's like unwrapping a gift on christmas morning," Jimin mutters as his fingers hook over the hem of Namjoon's briefs and begin to pull.

Suddenly Namjoon feels nervous about being so exposed, and he presses his forehead into the mattress as Jimin pulls his briefs down, over his ass and past his thighs.

"Oh fuck," Jimin mutters, "you are pretty."

Pretty, Namjoon thinks, letting the word flutter around his thoughts. Nobody has ever called his asshole pretty before, and somehow the thought makes him feel even shyer, and he's grateful that neither of them can see how red his face and cheeks undoubtedly are. 

Wet warmth gently grazes over Namjoon's rim, and the sensation is so good, Namjoon gasps and lets out a soft whimper, turning his head so that the sound can be captured on camera. Jimin flicks his tongue a little firmer and draws circles over Namjoon, and pleasure courses through him, dizzying him quickly.

"You taste as good as you look, baby." Jimin whines, squeezing Namjoon's butt cheeks in both hands. "Do you like the way my tongue feels?"

"Yes," Namjoon pants, surprised by the neediness in his voice. "Feels so good."

Jimin moans as he licks Namjoon again, this time lapping at him slowly as if to savor him. Then, Jimin sets a rhythm of lapping and flicking his tongue, giving firm, intentional sweeps of wetness and teasing hints of pressure. Namjoon moans and feels his legs begin to quake as his pleasure builds quickly. 

With the tip of his tongue, Jimin penetrates Namjoon, and both men moan in tandem. Drool drips around Namjoon's eager hole, and although the stretch isn't much, it's something, and Namjoon wants more. 

Jimin spreads Namjoon's cheeks wide as he fucks his tongue into his ass, and Namjoon moans and whines as arousal pools and expands like a coil pulling taut inside him. 

Namjoon can cum untouched, but if he starts now, he's worried he'll cum again and again and turn into an overstimulated mess before they've barely had a chance to get started. Although it might make for a good porn scene, he's not sure that's the vibe they're going for.

"Oh fuck," Namjoon whimpers softly into the comforter, feeling his pleasure built too high, too fast. Maybe it's the fact that it's Jimin who is tongue-fucking his ass that has everything feeling heightened, but suddenly, he feels the coil of pleasure threatening to snap. 

"So sensitive," Jimin teases against Namjoon's rim. Jimin must sit back, and his tongue and hands leave Namjoon, suddenly making him feel exposed and empty, and he bites the urge to whine. Then the sound of a lube bottle opens, and Namjoon tightens his fists around the comforter of the bed, bracing himself. 

"I see you clenching around nothing, baby," Jimin says as he drags a finger over Namjoon's rim, giggling through his words as a shiver runs up Namjoon's spine. "So eager for me."

Jimin reaches under Namjoon and grabs his cock, and Namjoon gasps from the feeling. "Jesus, Joonie, your cock is big! I always knew it would be." The praise makes Namjoon grin. 

Jimin releases Namjoon's cock after a few slow tugs that have him reeling and slowly pushes a lubed-up finger into Namjoon's ass. Namjoon gasps and allows his head to fall forward as the stretch sends a dull burn through his body, and Jimin leaves soft, wet kisses along the back of Namjoon's thigh as he gently works his finger in and out.

Slowly, Jimin eases one, then two, then three fingers into Namjoon, fucking and scissoring them to stretch him out. A cacophony of moans, hisses and squelching sounds fills the room, and a sheen of sweat covers Namjoon by the time he's done. 

"On your back, I wanna suck your cock," Jimin mutters, slowly petting Namjoon's thighs. 

"Uh—okay," Namjoon stammers as he anchors himself onto his elbows and scoots forward. 

Namjoon moves a pillow away from the headboard of the bed, turns, and sits against it, and Jimin instantly crawls to his lap to straddle his legs and grab onto his cock. Jimin slowly works Namjoon's cock into his mouth and back out, and it feels incredible. Warm and wet and vibrating with sound as Jimin whimpers around Namjoon's length while taking it into his throat.

Jimin changes his pace and swallows Namjoon's cock eagerly. He wraps a fist around Namjoon and strokes his length as he sucks and bobs his head, and Namjoon is all at once so overcome with pleasure that his head falls back against the headboard, and his orgasm rushes through him. Jimin lets out a pleased hum as Namjoon pants and grasps at the comforter at his sides, desperate to hold on for purchase.

"Fuck, Jimin, I'm gonna cum," Namjoon whimpers and his eyes squeeze shut as the coil begins to snap.

Jimin lifts his head from Namjoon long enough to say, "Cum in my mouth, big boy," and as soon as Namjoon's cock is sunken back into Jimin's warm, wet mouth, the tension in his tummy becomes too much and Namjoon cums. 

Namjoon curses and whimpers as Jimin sucks the soul straight from his cock. Waves of pleasure drag him under, sending a tremble through Namjoon's hips, and by the time he's spent, with no more to give, he opens his eyes to find the room spinning and to hear himself gasping for air.

"Wow," Jimin giggles. "Is it always that intense?"

"N-no," Namjoon pants. "Well, not always; only sometimes."

"Yeah?" Jimin asks curiously, rubbing his hands up and down Namjoon's thighs. "Guess I'm just special then, hmm?"

Namjoon hums in agreement and truth be told, he's not wrong. Jimin's not only special because his mouth and hands are talented, but he's special because he's him. Namjoon has known and cared for Jimin for a long time; he knows he can just let go and succumb to bliss because, with Jimin, he'll be taken care of. 

Jimin sits back and spreads Namjoon's thighs wide, bending them as he gets between them. He rubs his hands up and down Namjoon's thighs, then says, "Actually, back on your hands and knees, baby."

Namjoon's limbs feel heavy as he scrambles up into a fully seated position to give his legs enough room to turn without hitting Jimin, and spins to get onto his hands and knees.

"Face down against the mattress, baby," Jimin commands as he uses his hands to spread Namjoon wide. 

The sound of the lube bottle opening has Namjoon once again taking two fistfuls of the comforter into his hands as he anticipates penetration. Jimin's slick, blunt tip brushes over Namjoon's hole and Namjoon tenses from the sensation, then does his best to relax, still reeling from the first orgasm.

Jimin rolls his hips just enough to push the head of his cock into Namjoon's ass, and sparks fly through Namjoon's body, threatening to suffocate him as he squeezes the blanket beneath him and breathes through the painful yet euphoric feeling of Jimin's cock stretching him out.

"So tight, Joonie," Jimin groans, pulling his hips back and slowly pushing them forward. Jimin's cock sinks a little deeper with each thrust, pushing the air from Namjoon's lungs a little harder each time.

Slowly and gradually, Jimin sinks his entire cock inside Namjoon, stretching him so perfectly, making him feel so full. Namjoon gasps for air and breathes around the overwhelming, heavy sensation that rocks through his limbs and turns him to mush. Then, when he can't possibly wait any longer to be fucked, he mutters, "Okay; I'm good."

Jimin pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, punching the air from Namjoon's chest. Namjoon moans and drops his head forward, and as the sudden burst of pleasure rocks through him, Jimin does it again. And again. 

Suddenly, Namjoon is acutely aware of everything. Jimin's fingers digging into his hips, Jimin's thighs against his ass, Jimin's length rubbing against his prostate. It would be a dangerous enough combination with how sensitive Namjoon already is, but knowing it's Jimin, hearing Jimin's voice, well, Namjoon doesn't stand a chance.

Jimin sets a steady pace, fucking Namjoon rougher than he would have expected but not so rough that Namjoon feels overwhelmed. They moan and whimper in tandem, and Jimin mutters praises like, "So tight," and "So good for me," while Namjoon whimpers, "You fuck me so good," and various haphazard sounds that aren't quite words. 

Blood has finally rushed to Namjoon's cock enough to make it throb and smack against his tummy with every thrust, and Namjoon begins to fear that Jimin might actually make him cum just as fast as before. All it would take is one gentle squeeze from his dainty hand, Namjoon thinks. 

Jimin cracks a hand over Namjoon's ass, pulling him from his thoughts and making him yelp. The stinging pain mixes with the pleasure pools inside him, and Namjoon lets go of the blanket he's been gripping so tightly, allowing himself to relax and sink further into bliss. 

"God, you're so fucking hot," Jimin groans. "You take my cock so well, Joonie."

Jimin presses his open palms onto Namjoon's ass, making him lay flat against the bed, and then Jimin adjusts his legs so that he's straddling Namjoon's thighs and closing them tight. Like this, Namjoon feels Jimin's cock drag through his walls much more intensely, and Jimin lifts his hips at a new angle to drive his cock into Namjoon more deeply.

"Holy fuck," Jimin groans. "So fucking tight like this."

Namjoon is certain he sees stars. Every star in the known galaxy, and even more beyond all of those. Jimin's cock spears him so deliciously, forcing moans from him as the pleasure is truly so intense, it makes Namjoon feel like he's drunk. 

"I'm g-gonna cum, baby," Jimin stammers, digging his fingers into Namjoon's hips so hard he wonders if they'll bruise. "Touch yourself. Want you to cum too."

Namjoon drags one arm down and squeezes it between his body and the mattress, waiting for Jimin to pull out so he can push his hips back enough to allow himself to grab onto his cock. Namjoon's other hand grips the blanket once more as the feeling of his hand pushes him dangerously close to the edge. 

Jimin fucks into Namjoon so hard, he doesn't even need to attempt to stroke himself. Rather, he slides his fist up far enough to stimulate his head with each stroke and lets the inertia from Jimin's hips do all the work. 

"Fuck, you're clenching so tight," Jimin whines, and he fucks Namjoon faster, picking up a punishing pace. 

Pleasure mixed with a dull throb of pain from the impact of Jimin's cock slamming straight into Namjoon's guts plunges him over the edge, and Namjoon squeezes his cock gently, moaning and whimpering as he cums. He tries to catch his release in his hand so as to not make a mess, but pleasure rocks through his body so hard that he struggles to control it.

"Fuck, oh my god," Jimin whines, and he slows his hips to a stop and empties his load in Namjoon's ass, trembling and moaning through his orgasm as his hips stutter and thrust shallowly. 

Each tiny movement Jimin makes sends a shiver through Namjoon, and he lays, gripping onto his leaking cock as overstimulation sets in and turns him into a pile of boiled noodles. Jimin pulls out, dragging a moan from Namjoon with it, and then Jimin slaps Namjoon's ass and barks, "Sit up, big boy; I'm not finished with you, yet."

The idea of sitting back up has Namjoon panting with exasperation, and he lifts his head from the bed only to let it fall once more, then attempts to wiggle his legs beneath him so that he's on his knees and able to push himself up, from there. 

Namjoon releases his spent, cum-covered cock and digs his fist into the mattress, trying not to make a mess. When he manages to spin himself to sit back against the headboard, Namjoon lets out a deep sigh.

Jimin grins at Namjoon, sitting on his heels in the same spot he was, and Namjoon feels his breath hitch at the sight of Jimin so pretty and fucked out, with his dark messy hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. Jimin crawls over to Namjoon, and as he takes his place between Namjoon's thighs, his eyes fall to his hand.

"What's this?" Jimin asks, taking Namjoon's hand and holding it up as if to inspect it. 

"D-didn't want to make a mess," Namjoon pants.

"I'll take care of this for you," Jimin offers with a wink as he pulls Namjoon's hand to his mouth and begins to lick the cum that hasn't yet dried from his palm. Jimin's mouth closes around Namjoon's fingers as he sucks the last remaining fluid, and Namjoon curses his eager cock for beginning to tingle once more with arousal. 

For the first time since their water break, Namjoon looks around for Jeongguk, finding him sitting in his leather chair, which he's scooted close to the bed. He smiles, and Jeongguk looks up from the small monitor attached to the camera and returns his smile.

"How are you?" Jeongguk asks. 

"I was going to ask you that," Namjoon says, resting his head back against the headboard. 

Jimin gently sets Namjoon's hand back down and reaches his hands out to Jeongguk, who stands from his chair and sets the camera down. 

"Yes, baby?" Jeongguk asks as he approaches, takes Jimin's hands in his, and pulls them to his mouth to place a soft kiss on them.

"Just wanna tell you I love you," Jimin mutters. "Just checking in."

Jeongguk blushes and glances down, and Namjoon follows his eyes, finding a sizable tent in his pants. "I'm good," Jeongguk mutters. "I'm enjoying the show."

Jimin tilts his chin up, asking Jeongguk for another kiss, and Jeongguk gently presses their lips together with a smile, then lets go of Jimin and approaches Namjoon. Gently, Jeongguk reaches up and brushes hair off Namjoon's sweaty forehead, then rubs the backs of his fingers over Namjoon's cheek. 

"You're doing great, hyung. Thanks for doing this."

Namjoon can feel himself blush. "You don't have to thank me for letting your boyfriend rail me. I should be thanking you."

Jimin reaches for Namjoon's cock and begins to stroke it. He had squirted lube into his palm unbeknownst to Namjoon, and the slide feels incredible. Namjoon moans and lets his head fall back against the headboard with a thud, and Jeongguk walks back to his chair and continues filming. 

Namjoon opens his eyes to find Jimin stroking his cock with one hand while reaching between his legs, touching his fingers to Namjoon's used hole. Jimin pushes two fingers inside and slowly begins to finger Namjoon while stroking his cock. 

"I want one more," Jimin says with a smirk. "Can you do that for me, baby?"

Namjoon nods his head and whimpers, "Yes," though he's worried that it might be too much. Jimin's hands feel amazing, however, and he thinks it would be foolish to ask for him to stop. 

Jimin spreads Namjoon's legs around him and yanks Namjoon down enough to line his cock back up with his hole. The stretch is a bit painful, making Namjoon wince, and Jimin grabs the lube and squirts some directly onto his cock as he pushes a little deeper.

Jimin sets a rough pace from the first snap of his hips, and fire pools in Namjoon’s back and tummy as the pleasure very quickly builds. Jimin is merciless with how he fucks Namjoon, and try as Namjoon might to lift his hands to caress Jimin in any way, he's so overcome that all he can manage is to sit pretty and get fucked. 

"So good for me," Jimin mutters. He reaches up to Namjoon's pecs, pressing his palms over Namjoon's sensitive nipples, and Namjoon gasps and whines from the feeling. Jimin giggles.

"Of course your nipples are sensitive," Jimin teases, tweaking both between his thumbs and pointer fingers. 

Namjoon feels silly knowing that this is all it will take to plunge him straight into the depths of orgasmic hell, but he's overstimulated, still unable to fully come down from his last orgasm, and Jimin is so pretty, so devious, and so talented, there's nothing he can do to stop himself. 

"Fuck, I can't believe I'm already so close," Namjoon whines, letting his head hit the headboard again. 

"Is that so?" Jimin groans and Namjoon glances to Jimin to find a devious smirk playing at his lips. Namjoon groans and squeezes his eyes shut; he is absolutely fucked. 

Jimin fucks Namjoon harder and faster than before, and Namjoon suddenly feels absolutely overwhelmed with pleasure—absolutely consumed by it. Jimin continues to rub Namjoon's nipples between his fingers, sending sparks and waves and bursts all throughout his body. 

Before he can comprehend what's happening, orgasm is rocking through Namjoon. He whimpers and mutters, "Fuck, I'm cum—shit!" and feels quake after quake shake through his body. Namjoon is already so far gone from pleasure, and this—being pawed at while his beautiful best friend fucks his brains out—is too fucking much. Namjoon actually worries his heart might stop.

"Fuck," Namjoon whines, "it's too much!" 

“Do you need me to stop?” Jimin asks, watching Namjoon intently for a response.

Namjoon shakes his head frantically and mutters, “Not until you cum.”

"Good boy! You got this, baby," Jimin coos. "Relax through the overstimulation."

Namjoon lets out a deep breath and relaxes as best as he can, eager to be so good for Jimin. Jimin reaches under Namjoon's thighs and spreads his legs wide, and he pulls Namjoon into a somewhat different angle, slamming his cock into Namjoon even deeper.

"Oh, fuck!" Namjoon shouts, slumped in a half-seated position, and Jimin continues fucking Namjoon mercilessly, slamming his head into the headboard and tugging on his thighs to get him impossibly closer—to pull Namjoon into an even more awkward position. Namjoon isn't certain he believes in heaven, but he thinks that if it was real, it would feel a lot like this. 

"So good for me," Jimin whines. "Fuck, you are so fucking perfect, Joonie."

Namjoon's eyelashes flutter closed and open, and he can barely focus on Jimin. He looks down to find his cock laying limp against his tummy, which is splattered in his release, and he smiles at the mess they've made.

"I'm so close, baby," Jimin whines, squeezing Namjoon's thighs even tighter in his grasp. His pace speeds and all Namjoon can comprehend is the lewd slap of skin against sweaty skin and Jimin's moans. Namjoon's voice is more or less gone, letting out shaky, mostly inaudible gasps and grunts. 

"Fuck, that's it," Jimin cries, slamming his hips hard into Namjoon. 

Namjoon's hole is spent and sore, and he can feel Jimin's release fill him. When Jimin pulls out, the squelch is audible. Jimin collapses onto Namjoon's stomach and wraps his arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. 

"Jiminah," Jeongguk whines, "porn doesn't end in hugs."

"Mine does," Jimin counters, panting loudly. "Besides, your cock is still hard as a rock. We could finish the video with the hot camera man getting his dick sucked."

Namjoon groans loudly at the idea of exerting even an ounce more of energy, but the thought of sucking Jeongguk's cock after he just sat and watched his boyfriend rail him sounds like a good exchange. And maybe he just really wants to see Jeongguk naked. Or, at least, partially naked. 

"Jimin does have a point," Namjoon mutters, attempting to sit up while Jimin unwraps himself from his torso. Namjoon is sore, and suddenly the sweat covering him has added a chill to the room, but he's eager to please.

Jeongguk runs his free hand through his hair and smirks. He shakes his head as he appears to think it over, then nods. "Alright, fine," he says. "I'll let you two suck my cock."

"Ooh, you'll let us," Jimin teases. "How lucky we are, wow! Thank you, oh gracious Jeongguk, for granting us the distinct pleasure of—"

"Yah, shut up and undo my pants, Jiminah," Jeongguk interrupts, and Namjoon can't help but laugh. 

Namjoon watches as Jimin falls to his knees on the floor for Jeongguk and teases him, making cute faces as he palms over Jeongguk's erection. His heart feels full of affection and excitement for this new chapter with his friends; he thinks he could be their platonic fuck buddy. Who knows? Maybe they'll want to use him for more future videos. A guy can dream.

"Joonie," Jimin whines, holding a hand to Namjoon, pulling him from his reverie. 

Namjoon gets off the bed and kneels beside Jimin, and he can't help but smile. These two and their schemes, Namjoon thinks. What is he going to do with them?

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[marvelsdc22]

I Would Like To Kiss You

Intro: Hello, lovelies!! I hope you guys are having a good day/night!! Here’s the next pride fic!! It’s a combo of two requests, so I hope you guys enjoy!! :)

Note: You and Wanda are tasked to find the HYDRA agents at a pride fest, while looking you guys get sidetracked, a lot can happen during that time.

Word Count: 1029

For Pride Month. This might be an overly simple request but I think it could also be super cute. Reader taking Wanda to her first Pride Festival. Maybe they’ve been dating for a minute or they end up dating after the festival. Maybe they’re on a mission where they needed to blend into the festival because they caught wind that HYDRA was organizing an attack there, they got carried away and one asks out the other, got carried away, the team, probably Tony or Nat, interrupt them via comms? Maybe? Possibly?

Want to read last years? Click here

Walking into the kitchen in your pajamas, you weren’t expecting the whole team to be in there, fully dressed and looking all serious “What’s going on?” You asked, raising a brow as they all looked at you “Get dressed then we’ll update you” Tony said, watching as you nodded before turning back and heading out, making sure to grab one of Thor’s poptarts on your way out, hearing him shout a “Hey!” before you took off back to your room, laughing.

Heading back to the kitchen, now in casual clothes and finishing up the second poptart as you walked over to the table “So, what’s going on?” You asked, taking a seat between Wanda and Thor, who pouted at you for stealing his poptart “We just got word that HYDRA is planning an attack, we need you and Wanda to go, you two are the best for this” Tony said, looking at you and you raised an eyebrow “Where is it?” You asked, leaning forward against the table on your elbows “Greenwich Village” he said, causing you to furrow your brows “That’s where pride is, are you implicating something, Tony?” You asked, you not being out to anyone yet “You and Wanda are the newest, so you’d be the least suspicious” he said, raising a brow at how defensive you got “Oh, right… When do we leave?” “Ten minutes”.

Once you both got to pride, you looked around and saw all the people around, wearing bright colors and just being themselves and you couldn’t help but smile a bit to yourself “Where should we go?” Wanda asked, looking nervous in this situation, her not being good in crowds so you take her arm and lead her up to a kiosk “We browse, blend in, and have fun” you said, nudging her gently as you waited for your turn in the line, the kiosk having pride flags and pride bears and more hanging around it, ignoring Steve scolding you about the fun part as you looked at the flags, grabbing the pride one and showing it to Wanda.

As you guys went on through the day, you had bought a few things while Wanda seemed too nervous to buy anything, seeming afraid to “Everything okay?” You asked, looking at her and having not expected her to react this way to this place “Yeah, just don’t know what to do or really look for, are they like blending in with the people or are they in one of the surrounding buildings? Or-” you cutting her off by gently grabbing her hand, your black wisps of power combining with her red, seeming to calm her down since while your powers were mostly death and destruction, mixing hers with yours seemed to create a calming effect, at least with her.

“That’s what we’re going to find out, don’t worry” you said softly, the two of you having stepped closer to one another as people pushed past you guys, and giving her hand a small squeeze “Okay” she whispered, looking up at you until a particularly harsh shove from a passerby forced your hand out of hers “Sorry!” Someone called as they glanced back at you two before continuing on their way “Why don’t we get some food? Take a small break” you suggested, hearing Tony start to argue “We all need one, Tony” you said sternly, knowing you guys would keep an eye out, but you all needed a moment to destress.

As night came, you guys had completely lost track of the fact you were here on a mission as you and Wanda walked around the street, you smiling as you watched a few drag queens walk past you guys “You guys look amazing!” You called, watching as they turned and smiled at you “And you look gorgeous, baby!” One of them called before they continued on their way, your face burning a bit at the complement before you looked at Wanda who was staring at you.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” You asked, reaching up and brushing your cheek off just in case and raising a brow when she laughed and shook her head “No… They were right, you’re gorgeous” she said, looking at you and you felt your heart speed up, you having been fighting your crush on the witch, you having not wanted to fully accept that you could like girls, since you were a girl as well and it was always frowned upon when you were growing up “Really?” You asked, feeling your face start to burn even more the longer she stared at you.

You watched as she carefully reached up and gently brushed some hair out of your face before she cupped your cheek “I would very much like to kiss you” she admitted softly, your eyes widening when she said that and you quickly nodded, unable to form words with your mouth as dry as it was at the moment, you watching as she leaned towards you this is really happening, oh my god oh my god oh my- your thoughts getting interrupted when Natasha spoke into the comms “As cute as this is, we have a mission” she said, sounding stern as she spoke “Right” you said, you starting to pull away when Wanda grabbed the back of your head and pushed your mouth to hers, the kiss being brief but it was enough to form a spark in you.

“I-” you said when she pulled back with a smile, watching as she fixed her hair for a moment before she took your hand in yours “Come on, lets get these baddies then we can finish this night as a date, hm?” She suggested, looking back at you as she pulled you through the crowd and watching as your face broke out into a grin “I would like that” you said, following her through the crowd, you guys managing to take care of the agents as they got ready with something on a stage before the two of you gave your comms to Natasha before spending the rest of the night celebrating pride, celebrating you guys and your new found relationship.

Permanent Taglist: @rianncreates​​​ / @natasha-danvers​​​ / @hopingforbarnes​​​ / @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​​​ / @venablemayfairgoode​​​ / @mmmmokdok​​​

Marvel Taglist: @thanossexual​​​

Marvel Women Taglist: @imnotasuperhero​​​ / @procrastinatingsapphictrash​​​

End Note: I hope you guys enjoyed!! If you’d like to be added to a Taglist, shoot me a DM or an Ask!! Have a good day/night!! :)

Requests Open

Pride Requests Closed

[isolaradiale]

Welcome to SpiraleFES 2020!

A word of warning first: this is not an event and does not count as event participation towards ranking up. This is merely a bunch of fun activities that persist throughout July and until the next event in August if you’d like to use them for threads. 

The city is decorated festively from top to bottom, each and every ward sporting streamers, festive music, and providing a number of fun events. These can be used for threads throughout July and August, and so we encourage you to make use of them for some interesting interaction ideas! The list of events is as follows:

FIBONACCI WARD

NO PLACE LIKE HOME DECOR Do you find yourself missing that touch of something from home you just can’t seem to find in the city, no matter how hard you look? Well, search no more! Around the parks in various levels of the ward are vendors from familiar places, toting those little somethings from where you came from. Finally, you can find some clothes and other household items that aren’t easily accessible here. And if you look hard enough, you may find one of your personal treasures and trinkets that didn’t travel with you--a music box, a locket, maybe a ring from a family member… Don’t worry, it’ll have your name on it. NOTE: Weapons and other combat items will not be for sale in any of the bazaars.

A ROARIN’ BOREALIS SKATING RINK From the city streets, it looks like a bright ribbon of rainbow light, not unlike the famed Northern Lights. But ride the platform up to the top and see that the shimmering lights are actually a massive skating rink, with a figure 8 loop around the upper tiers of Fibonacci City. You can bring your own skates, or visit the kiosk to rent some LiteSkates--which leave a four-foot trail of light behind you in the color of your choice. There are guard rails around the arena, but even the clumsiest of skaters will be alright. After all, if you fall off the arena, a drone will pick you up and put you back on the ring. NOTE: Available during nighttime only.

ANDROID HELL … or the Ofiuco Rave, by any other name. A series of Radiocats seem to have flocked up to the lower floors of Level 3, and any discrimination towards those who seem like they may not belong has been, luckily (though no doubt only temporarily) shoved aside. Is it the Radiocats that set up the series of bright neon, backlit raves that have crowded varying floors on this level? … who knows. What everyone does know is that they’re certainly jamming out to some, as they say, “sick beats”, and large crowds have been drawn to the fluorescent party. It may be hard to move from place to place, but with the technology here being what it is, if you can see through the strobe for long enough, you’re bound to enjoy yourself! Ofiuco certainly is. NOTE: Ofiuco is immune to all attacks, charms, and other phenomena

CRAFT PUNK Outside of Fibonacci’s towering skyscrapers, nestled in the resident district, is an event with tinkerers in mind. Blending with the steampunk atmosphere is a foundry where your muse can learn the arts of robotics and machines. Classes range from building your own remote-control cars to making toys and household appliances (you know, like those little circular vacuum cleaners? Or a Super Toaster?) For those of you who are particularly adept in the art of machinery, you can enter the Scrap Battle Showdown--a competition to make a battle robot no bigger than a 3ft cube using only the supplies available in the foundry. If you’re caught using any materials from home, you’ll be kicked out!

ZERO G’S, ZERO CARES Ever wanted to go into space to do all the cool astronaut stuff, but not go through the rigorous education and training? This event is for you! Walk through the doors of this massive dome, and you enter a zero-gravity playground, where you can zoom around and float to your heart’s content. There are various pieces of equipment and toys you can rent out and play with, as well as anchored structures to hang off of. And when you get hungry, just visit the astronaut food vending machine!

COTES WARD

PIXIE PERFECT TREASURE HUNT The pixies of the Airaisal Forest have decided to cooperate with outsiders for a one of a kind event. Search the forest with an enchanted teacup pig with a nose for a very particular treasure: rare, golden truffles. Amass five to be awarded the equivalent of 200$ in Dust. But give up, or lose your teacup pig, and you’ll be spending the rest of your day as a fox kit as per pixie punishment.

OPHIUCHUS TREE TOWER Scale the gigantic tree that rises high against the cityscape with an alraune guide. The plant person in question will create a staircase of leaves around the tree’s trunk rising upward, allowing you and small group of friends to traverse the tree in a way normally impossible. Once you reach the canopy get ready to enjoy a one of a kind picnic lunch while you overlook the island from the most magical of vantage points.

NERF JOUSTING Rent a horse from the Market Town coliseum and take up arms against a number of opponents. Well, take up soft foam arms. Experience what it’s like to joust without any of the immediate danger. *any wounds accumulated via falling off your horse will be immediately healed by a fairy.

MAZE BY PIXIE LIGHT An elaborate garden maze illuminate by magic lights provided by the pixies of the village. This event only runs at night and can only be experienced in pairs, but the prize for success is a doozy: a crystal flower that is traditionally exchanged between pixies meant to promise themselves to one another. Receiving this flower as a couple is a promise to remain at one another’s sides through thick and thin. 

CANDLE LIGHTING FOR THE LOST During the night, the river that flows at the base of Ophiuchus comes to life with tiny lights as the alraune have arranged a way to send off the fallen, giving any who want one a tiny flower raft with a candle resting upon it. Placing this raft on the lake while considering well wishes for a resident of the city has since left is thought to bring them good fortune… wherever they are. Though in a realm where death isn’t permanent it can also be used to give well wishes to even the living, perhaps someone you know that’s having a hard time.  

STAR-DEN TEA PARTY The stars and planets are always so far away, aren’t they? Well, in this outdoor star garden, you’ll be able to walk through paths with lots of little glowing stars and planets--you may even find your home planet drifting in the cosmos! Each star, comet, cluster and planet can be interacted with, with the biggest planets only reaching the size of a beach ball. Letting go of the celestial body will have it simply float gently upward to begin drifting again.The event is catered with a variety of teas, coffees and cocoas, as well as sandwiches and little finger foods. Bring a blanket and gaze at them drifting by! Note: This event is only available when the sun goes down! 

GOLDEN WARD

REFRESHING FRUITS A boon of the token fruits of summer. At sunset, the beach’s parking lot transforms into a cute little market selling and showcasing everything melon! Vendors selling melon-themed snacks and drinks ranging from fun to wacky, melon carving contests, melon-themed clothes and other commercial goods, and lots of activities and games... And melon plants, of course! There's bound to be something for everyone.

NOBODY’S BORED! WALK The Boardwalk is offering free admission for the duration of SpiraleFES! Not only that, but it’s open until midnight instead of closing solely at nightfall, and at 10pm each Sunday there’s a fireworks display. With a variety of little games and activities with fun prizes to be won, there’s a guarantee you definitely won’t be running out of things to do any time soon! Drop by at 6pm any night for a free barbecue.

CRUISE CONTROL FOR COOL A cruise ship has docked, decked out in festive banners and balloons for the festivities. Open Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with free admission and free souvenirs, there’s a different themed activity on each of those nights! Monday night sports access to the ship’s nightclub, Wednesday sports a murder mystery starting at 8pm, and Friday sports a series of different escape rooms once the sun sets! The cruise ship may or may not be decked out solely in a variety of golden decorations, however.

THE CHILLIN’ VILLAIN A nightclub and lounge has mysteriously popped up on the border of the shadier part of Golden, and goodie two-shoes need not walk through its doors. With a temporary in-house ceasefire, all sorts of villains and antagonists are welcome to share a drink, a dance, and tell of the heists and plots they've devised. And if you'd rather keep your identity hidden, masks will be provided to you at a cost (it's a villain's lounge, not a charity!). NOTE: The ceasefire is mandatory, and all weapons and powers are deactivated upon entering the building

A FOAM-IDABLE FOE Out further into the ocean are a few obstacles, rafts and arenas. On the beach are your weapons: foam armaments of every shape and style--everything from foam swords to guns that shoot foam darts to foam shields and battle-axes. Your task is simple: knock your opponent(s) or opposing team(s) off the platform and into the water using your sick new foam gear. Think of it as a… Foam Battle Royale!Want a challenge? Some of the arenas equalize the strengths and defenses of its challengers, making even the most powerful Isolans only as strong as the weakest contender on the arena. Note: For this event, your combat powers/items will be rendered ineffective!

ARCHIMEDES WARD

ARTE FESTE (MULTIFACETED) All creative minds are welcome to join this massive booth dedicated to arts and crafts. All sorts of classes will be held over the span of the month--from common forms of painting and pottery to the unique art forms of metalworking and glassblowing. Whatever you create in the booth can be taken home, given to a loved one, or sold at the vendor’s tent. Any necessary supplies will be rented to you, but if you break it, you buy it. If performance arts are more your thing, stop by for any of the open mic sessions held at Calliope Theater. NPCs will be hosting plays and short skits that you may be dragged into as an unfortunate audience member, but citizens of Spirale are encouraged to take the stage and wow the crowd with words! Comedy sketches, poetry, and any other magnificent talents of yours are welcome at the stage! Please pay no attention to the guy selling tomatoes to throw. He doesn’t work for us. We don’t know where he came from.

TOO POOL FOR SCHOOL The Water of Styx, while always open to the public, has been decorated much like the rest of the wards. An assortment of pool toys and games have been set up and laid out for all to use as they see fit, including but not limited to some of the largest pool noodles you’ll ever see, a variety of pool floats in all shapes and sizes, and a volleyball net set up toward one end of the pool for all to enjoy a game. Refreshments and snacks provided! Some of the smaller pools around the ward have similarly been decked out in a multitude of fun pool supplies, but not nearly to the extent as the Water of Styx.

FLASH FASHION (THE DEPARTMENT WOULDN’T LET US NAME IT “FLASHION”) Highlighting the summer fashion scene is this joint-event, perfect for participants of all levels of experience. Those skilled in the art of the cloth can showcase their designs both on mannequins or in person in the display booth. There are all sorts of categories to enter your pieces into, so don’t be shy to show what you’re made of! Those that have an eye for photography are encouraged to come and snap some photos of the spectacle; the fashion, the models, the contestants--even the guests! The display booth has a wireless printer and a corkboard for pinning your snapshots to. For those of you who would rather keep things fun and casual, there’s a photo trail with plenty of fantastic views of the ward to take that sweet, sweet selfie in.

CANDY CAMOUFLAGE So, yeah, it looks like a typical home goods store. But don’t be deceived! Many of the objects you’d typically find in the store--furniture, pillows, curtains and more--are completely edible! Even then, the tastiest candies and chocolates are only for the bravest and most adventurous tasters. A treat can be hiding anywhere--a clothes hanger, a ball-point pen, a mannequin, the wallpaper… Just be careful not to crunch on a real object. And if you do, there’s a dentist down the street. The event resets at midnight each night and the store changes daily, so every experience is different!

THE INTRASPACE

SPIRALE DOUBLE DASH!!: PAINBOW ROAD For a limited time, kart racing is available at the Intraspace hub! Go solo or grab a friend, customize your ride, and ride like the wind! The rules are simple--complete three laps around the circuit and try to finish in 1st place. But these aren’t your ordinary courses, and things get pretty… wild. There’s no rule against sabotaging your opponents, either. So better watch out…! Don’t worry--if you completely total your kart or fall off the edge of the track, you’ll be safely transported back to the Kart Lobby to try again in another round! The better you do in races, the better you can deck out your uniforms and kart.

[vornelinksbitte]

#74 Und wieder unterwegs

Zweiter Versuch, zweite Ankunft in Athen

Die Nacht vom 3. - 4. Oktober 2021

Und wieder saßen wir also auf unseren Rädern. Noch nie waren wir so spät vollgepackt unterwegs gewesen. Die Innenstadt war zu diesem Zeitpunkt sehr belebt und überall saßen Menschen an Tischen in Bars und Restaurants. Und dazwischen waren wir und versuchten unbeschadet uns durch das Gemenge zu schlängeln. Die Adresse von Kristina’s Bar, in welcher sie gerade arbeitete, lag knapp 4 Kilometer entfernt in einem anderen Stadteil. Unser Plan war, dass wir dort direkt hinfuhren, hoffentlich einen freien Tisch außen für uns fanden und wir mit Blick auf unsere Räder den Abend bis Kristina’s Schichtende vor Ort verbringen könnten.

Lucas war müde und nicht sehr motiviert. Kari hingegen fand die Situation eigentlich ganz amüsant. Sie dachte sich, dass selbst eine Parkbank immer noch besser wäre, als das verwanzte Hostel, in welchem 95 % der Arbeiter unbezahlte Reisende waren. Hauptsache überall sein, aber nicht dort. Nach etwa einer halben Stunde hatten wir die Bar erreicht. Es lag in einem eher ruhigeren Viertel mit verglasten Hochhäusern und einigen Banken. Zu unserer Enttäuschung hatte die Kneipe gar keine Außenbestuhlung. Es war eher ein Club. Was nun, dachten wir. Kristina wusste ja immernoch nichts von ihren neuen Mitbewohnern. Wir konnten sie nicht erreichen und Kari’s Handyakku klammerte sich an einem Prozent fest. Wir entschieden uns dafür ihr eine lange Sprachnachricht zu schicken und unsere Situation zu erklären, dass wir aufgrund der Wanzenplage und der allgemeinen Stimmung uns doch dafür entschieden hätten das Hostel so schnell wie möglich zu verlassen. Weiter fügten wir hinzu, dass wir höchstwahrscheinlich noch keine Wanzen in unserem Gepäck hätten und wir alle Kleidungsstücke, die offen herumgelegen waren, in Plastiktüten isoliert hätten. Unterhalb der Sprachnachricht fügten wir eine Textnachricht hinzu, dass wir die Nacht in der Stadt in der Nähe ihres Arbeitsplatzes verbringen würden, damit wir unsere Räder im Blick haben konnten.

Gerade als wir weiterziehen wollten, kam plötzlich Kristina um die Ecke. Wir hatten mal wieder unfassbares Glück und waren zur richtigen Zeit am richtigen Ort. Sie hatte einige Softdrinks besorgen müssen und war deshalb zum Kiosk um die Ecke gelaufen. Auf dem Rückweg fielen ihr die Räder auf. Weiterhin nichts ahnend war sie von unserem Anblick ganz schön überrascht gewesen. Kari erklärte ihr schnell in vier Sätzen unsere akutelle, “bescheidene” Situation, worauf Kristina uns mehr als herzlich zu sich einlud. Yeeeeah. Wir hatten also wieder ein neues Zuhause. Wir waren extrem dankbar und froh über die schnelle Wendung unserer Gesamtsituation. Dennoch konnten wir unsere vollgepackten Räder nicht wegzaubern. Wir beschlossen deshalb, dass wir uns über Lucas’s Telefon nach Kristina’s Schichtende kontaktieren würden und anschließend gemeinsam heimfahren würden. Nach wenigen Augenblicken musste Kristina aber auch schon wieder weiter. Die Gäste warteten schließlich auf ihre Getränke. Gerade war es kurz vor Mitternacht. Mindestens drei Stunden mussten wir bis zum Wiedertreffen also noch warten.

Da standen wir nun wieder. Nicht so recht wissend, was wir die nächsten Stunden mit uns anfangen sollten. Klar, wir waren in Athen. Aber Athen ist groß und das Stadtviertel, in welchem wir uns gerade befunden hatten, war eher unspektakulär. Um wieder die gesamte Strecke in das belebte Stadtzentrum zurück zufahren, fehlte uns schlichtweg die Motivation. Wir beschlossen deshalb zunächst in einem Kiosk zwei Flaschen Bier und eine Limo zu kaufen.

Die letzten Tage hier waren sehr windig gewesen, wie auch jetzt, weshalb wir uns ein windgeschütztes Fleckchen suchen wollten. Wir landeten in einer Art Innenhof umringt von verglasten Hochhäusern auf einer Parkbank vor einem mediterran angelegtem Vorplatz. Oberflächlich betrachtet waren wir zwischen der “posh” wirkenden Umgebung ganz schön fehl am Platz. Wir breiteten unsere Picknickdecke auf der Marmorbank aus und öffneten unser Bier. Gegenüber von saß in etwa 25m Entfernung ein Mann hinter der Rezeption. Wir glaubten, dass er wahrscheinlich jeden Moment rauskommen würde, um uns wieder wegzuschicken. Zu unserer Erleichterung blieb er aber an Ort und Stelle und schaute uns die gesamte Zeit einfach nur an. Wir tranken unser Bier und überlegten, was wir nun machen sollten. Eben waren wir noch im Aufenthaltsraum des Hostel und im nächsten Moment findet man sich in einem dunklen, aber noblen Innenhof wieder. So schnell kann es also gehen. Man wusste nicht so recht, ob man jetzt die Stirn runzeln oder doch einfach lachen sollte. Fakt war allerdings, dass wir dort nicht die ganze Nacht verbringen wollten. Nachdem wir unser Bier getrunken hatten, beschlossen wir eine Bar aufzusuchen. Beim Verlassen des Geländes öffnete sich, wie von Zauberhand, eine Schranke für uns. Es musste wohl der Mann an der Rezeption gewesen sein, der uns den Weg nach draußen erleichterte. Ob er höflich sein wollte oder einfach nur froh war, dass wir wieder gehen, wissen wir natürlich nicht. Wir glaubten aber an Ersteres.

Nach einigem hin und her landeten wir in einer sehr schönen Bar. Wir befanden uns in einer Art Wohnviertel und die Gegend schien sehr ruhig. Der Besitzer war extrem freundlich und wir blieben dort eine Weile. Dieser Ort war defintiv ein Upgrade, dachten wir uns. Gute Musik, schöne Atmosphäre und wir waren in der Nähe von Kristina’s Bar. Außerdem konnten wir draußen sitzen und hatten unsere Räder im Blick. Eigentlich perfekt, um dort die Nacht zu verbringen. Leider schloss der Laden in einer halben Stunde seine Türen. Es war mittlerweile halb 2 Uhr morgens und wir waren fast die letzten Gäste. Wir genossen trotzdem die guten Getränke und dem Gefühl von Gemütlichkeit für eine kurze Zeit. Lucas’ Stimmung hatte sich mittlerweile etwas verbessert, wenn auch seine Niedergeschlagenheit immer noch in seinen Worten mitschwang. Der freundliche Hausherr gab uns beim Abschied noch einen Tip, wo wir in der Nähe einige Bars finden konnten, welche definitiv bis zum Morgengrauen geöffnet hätten. Mit dieser wertvollen Information setzten wir unser nächtliche Tour fort.

Schlussendlich landeten wir auf der “Mavili” Kreuzung, wo es 0.3l Plastikbecher Bier für 5 Euro gab und alle Leute damit auf der Straße vor den Bars herumstanden. Zu unserem Glück gab es inmitten der Kneipen aber auch einen Kiosk, welcher 0.5l Bier in Glasflaschen in unserem Preissegment verkaufte. Nämlich für 1,70 Euro. Wir fanden die ganze Szenerie ganz schön absurd. Die “Stadtmenschen” posierten aber lieber mit ihrem Plastikbecher in schicker Kleidung vor ihrer Bar, nur um zu zeigen, dass sie es können. Wir hatten bereits erfahren, dass ein*e Durchschnittsgrieche*in trotz allem im Schnitt nur zwischen 600-800 Euro im Monat verdienen würden. Davon würde aber mehr als ein Drittel bereits für die Miete weggehen. Am liebsten hätte sich Lucas wahrscheinlich mit seiner Falsche Bier in der Hand vor die Menschenmenge gestellt und sie alle gefragt, ob sie denn nicht eigentlich alle dumm seien. Ließ aber davon ab, lehnte sich stattdessen gegen das Geländer und trank still sein Bier. Immerhin war es in der Nähe des Kiosks windgeschützt und wir hatten Bier soviel wir wollten. Von nun an konnten wir die Zeit entspannt verstreichen lassen.

Nach einiger Zeit gesellte sich ein freundlicher Kerl zu uns und sprach uns auf unsere Räder an. Er schien ganz schön begeistert von unserem Plan und wollte uns etwas Gesellschaft leisten. Wir freuten uns sehr darüber. Auch er eklärte uns, dass er diese Bar-Stadtmensch-Mentalität nicht verstehen könne. Fügte aber lachend hinzu, dass das wirklich schicke Stadtviertel erst nach der großen Kreuzung weiter südlich beginnen würde. Hier wären nur die Leute, die auch gerne dazugehören wollen würden, es sich aber nicht leisten könnten. Wir tauften die Kreuzung darafhin den “Wanna be Square” und tranken einen Schluck Bier. Auch Lucas’ Stimmung wurde besser und wir hatten eine unterhaltsame Nacht vor dem Kiosk. Gegen 3 Uhr morgens gesellte sich auch Kirstina zu unserer Truppe. Sie erzählte uns, dass sie, obwohl sie in Athen aufgewachsen war, noch nie an diesem Ort gewesen war und mittels GoogleMaps hergefunden hatte. Kari freute sich sehr, nun Zeit mit Kristina verbringen zu können. Sie waren einmal in Deutschland Arbeitskolleginnen in einer Bar gewesen. Nachdem Kari dort gekündigt hatte, war der Kontakt quasi abgebrochen. Nun standen beide ein Jahr später nebeneinander in Athen an einer Kreuzung. Was für eine Aneinanderreihung von Zufällen. Wie schön.

Kristina’s Haus befand sich allerdings im Stadtviertel Archarnes. Dieses befand sich von unserer aktuellen Position etwa 10 km entfernt. Das war ganz schön weit weg. Da es mittlerweile 4 Uhr morgens war, fuhren keine U-Bahnen in diese Richtung mehr. Wir mussten laut Kristina die Regionalbahn nehmen. Die Bahnhofstation befand sich allerdings 45 Minuten Fußweg entfernt. Vor lauter Freude wieder ein neues Dach über dem Kopf zu haben, realisierten wir gar nicht so richtig, was 45 Minuten Fußweg eigentlich bedeuten würden. Verständlicherweise war Krisitina von ihrer Arbeitsnacht erschöpft gewesen und wollte nach Hause. Wir verabschiedeten uns deshalb machten uns auf den Weg.

Leute, 45 Minunten Fußweg ist eine ausgewachsene Wanderung. Vor allem um diese Uhrzeit und der allgemeinen Verfassung. Mit Zeitdruck im Nacken hetzten wir zur angegebenen Adresse. Wobei Kristina immer wieder Passagen joggte. Wir boten ihr zwar zur Abwechslung immer wieder unsere Räder an, aber sie lehnte dankend ab. Sie wolle sich eh mehr bewegen. Gegen 5 Uhr erreichten wir den Bahnhof. Wir hatten es geschafft. Nur noch die Räder durch die Fußgängerschleusen wuchten und dann waren wir quasi da.

Als wir aus dem Zug wieder ausgestiegen waren, bemerkten wir sofort die Ruhe, welche über der Landschaft lag. Es war deutlich zu spüren, dass wir uns außerhalb des Stadtzentrums befanden. Die Straßen waren leer und es brannte kein Licht in den Häuserfenstern. Kristina gab uns auf dem Weg zu ihrem Haus eine kleine Führung durch ihre “Hood”. Schule, Supermärkte und ihre Verwandten. Alles schien direkt um die Ecke zu sein. Es war bereits morgens, als wir ihr Zuhause erreicht hatten. Ein kleiner schwarzer Hund namens Russel kam uns entgegen gehüpft und begrüßte uns freudig. Erleichert stellten wir unsere Räder zwischen den vielen Weinranken ab und ließen unsere Sachen ebenfalls draußen liegen. Kristina führte uns in ihr Haus und erklärte uns, dass wir in ihrem Bett schlafen dürften. Sie würde ihre Couch im Wohnzimmer über alles lieben und wir hatten auch gar keine Möglichkeit das Angebot abzulehnen. Uns fehlte ehrlich gesagt auch die Kraft, gegen das mehr als freundliche Angebot anzukämpfen. Anschließend fanden wir ohne viele Umwege unseren Weg in das gemütliche Bett und schliefen an diesem Morgen tief und fest.