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Wedding Crashers

Dick GaysonxFem!Reader

Word Count: 8.7k Contains: Shenanigans, dresses and heels, suits, romcom like banter. Mildly suggestive content. Bleeding, vague injury description. Summary: What starts with wedding crashing, fake names, and pretend stories, unfolds into something far more real, and impossible to ignore. Masterlist

Everyone has a hobby, your hobby just happens to be significantly more entertaining than the average hobby. Really, it involves a lot of pretending, free food, hoping they have an open bar, and dancing. Wedding crashing is an art, at least, it’s an art to successfully crash someone's wedding One that you have nearly mastered.

Don’t go to the ceremony, show up some time through the reception, you’re less likely to be noticed there when everyone is dancing and drinking than you are when everyone is completely sober. Unless it’s a dry wedding, then you just have to get really creative with your bullshit story of who you know and how you know them. 

It’s not something you can do super often, after all, you have to find the information for the weddings first, but a little bit of internet stalking and asking venues if they're available at a certain date solves that problem easily enough. Today, you’ve hit the goldmine. Not every wedding has an open bar, but this, this one certainly does. You didn’t even have to watch the bar to figure it out. 

It was simply to luxurious to not, the waiters were carrying crystal trays for fucks sake. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was some famous or rich person's wedding. Actually, it might be. You hadn’t cared enough to check, you’d just heard from a friend of a friend there would be a wedding worth crashing here tonight. 

Maybe your outfit isn’t as expensive as everyone else's, but you don’t think that you look like you don’t belong. The bartender had no issue forking over your first two drinks, and those attending who you hadn’t seen interact with the bride were more than happy to banter with you, anecdotes about the bride. Anecdotes you would use to build your made up stories when you inevitably ended up in conversation with someone who was actually important to the bride. 

OF course, naturally, one of the friends of the bride, (Not a bridesmaid, but she certainly wanted to be), seemed skeptical of you. Which was fine, you’d just have to avoid her. Everyone else was eating your bullshit up. Your bluff of choice for tonight was that you took a couple college classes with the bride, the two of you weren’t that close anymore, but you were more than delighted that she’d invited you to the wedding. 

Everything was going smoothly, until the wanna-be-bridesmaid caught you right outside the bathroom. You’d been drinking, and had broken the seal half an hour ago, so now you were stuck going to the bathroom more frequently than you would’ve liked. 

“I’ve asked around, and no one here knows you. You’re crashing her wedding aren’t you?” Fuck. Yet, before you could try to come up with a lie for why the hell you were here, an angel swooped in to save the day. The second you got a good look at him, you weren’t convinced that he actually was an angel. Nobody, absolutely nobody, had any business being that attractive. He was outdoing the Bride, and all he was wearing was a simple tailored tux.

However you hadn’t seen him around the wedding yet, either he was a guest and was extremely late, or he was crashing the wedding, just like you were. The way he smiled at the woman with the force of a thousand suns, and placed a hand on your back screamed confidence. “Sorry we’re late. She got caught up picking out which dress to wear.” 

Of course all it took was a hot guy flashing a smile, but hey, he was saving you from getting kicked out, so you played along. Stepping into his side, smiling meekly and nodding, “I can never decide when shopping so I got several and I just got these new earrings I wanted to wear. I couldn’t decide which dress went best with them.”

The stranger didn’t miss a beat, turning his head to you and softening his smile. Either he was really good at acting, or he actually thought you two were dating, because the way he was looking at you had your stomach fluttering and heart skipping a beat. Nobody had ever looked at you like that, and even if you didn't know who the hell this guy was, your body still reacted. 

“You could have worn a trash bag and would have been the prettiest lady here.” A pause and then his attention was turning back to the guest, “Other than the bride of course. Her dress is just dazzling isn’t it? There was no need to try to fake a flush at his compliment. It happened naturally. You weren’t even sure how you would fake a flush like that. 

His words seemed to do more than enough to dissuade the woman, “Of course! It’s my fault for assuming you were crashing. I’m so ditzy I forgot about plus ones,” And the woman was skittering away. Funny, how she’d been accusatory with you, yet the second this attractive stranger turned her attention on her she was just accepting whatever he said. 

Pretty privilege at its highest. Maybe you just needed to befriend an unreasonably attractive man so that he could get you out of these situations

 You watched the woman until she was out of sight, before exhaling and bursting out laughing. This really was a ridiculous situation. The type of thing you see in romance movies and never expect to happen in real life. So certainly this was going to end here. A cute anecdote to tell your coworkers and friends, nothing more. 

“Thank you. Had you not stepped in I would have missed my third round of free wedding cake.” 

He didn’t move his hand off your back, but he did smirk, “Well, I couldn’t let such a pretty lady suffer such a tragic fate. Someone has to protect cake connoisseurs.”  He nudged you back towards the main room where everyone was dancing and talking, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “Besides, I think I technically qualify as a guest. The bride is either my distant cousin…or my former babysitter. Honestly, I might just be someone’s plus one who wandered too far from the bar. Either way, you’re my plus one now.”

Clearly you were wrong, and this happened in real life too. The charming, attractive, helpful guy took an interest in you, and within minutes he had you laughing again. 

You knew he was lying, his story was so blatantly a lie, but you didn’t care, and let him rather expertly heard you towards an empty table for two. There were cards on the table, cards that certainly did not have your name on them, but he expertly pushed them away and then pulled out your chair, half bowing with a flourish. 

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

“What sort of fake date would I be if I didn’t pull your chair out for you and fetch the next round of cake?”

“A terrible one, truly awful. Saving a damsel in distress. You’re missing the next round of drinks though, one must take advantage of the open bar.” The conversation was easy, light, joking, certainly not what you had expected to find tonight. Yet, you found yourself smiling at him, enjoying yourself more than you were anticipating already. 

And the night was only beginning. 

“You’re so right.” His grin still hadn’t disappeared, but he took a step backward. “Stay  here. I’ll complete my duty and return with something fizzy and questionably garnished.”

“How do you know what I want?”

He paused mid-step, flashing the same grin at you that he had given the bridesmaidzilla, you definitely understood why she had backed down and let him go now. How anyone could say no to that sort of smile was beyond you. It was lucky he wasn’t using it for evil. “I don’t. But I'm confident enough to guess. Which is either charming or dangerous. I’ll have to wait for the jury’s decision on that one.” 

You should have been ashamed, but as he disappeared into the crowd you found yourself looking at his ass. Not only was he unfairly handsome, he had a fantastic ass, and his tailored suit only accentuated it even more. Life really was unfair, wasn’t it?

A few minutes later he returned with two plates of cake balanced on his arm like he was a waiter at a restaurant who had spent too much time carrying more plates than hands could possibly hold, and two glasses in hand. He slid the cakes onto the table easily before holding the drinks out to you.

One of the drinks had a sprig of something green stuck in it like it was a tiny tree, and the other looked like plain champagne. “Option A: something botanical and pretentious. Option B: the safest bet in the room, the choice is yours m’lady.”

You found yourself giggling again at his choice of words. But you still chose the champagne leaving him with the questionably colored drink with a miniature tree, “I’ll take the one that won’t start a garden in my mouth.”

He mock-gasped, dramatically falling into his chair, holding one of his now empty hands over his chest as if you had mortally wounded him. “For someone crashing a wedding, you strangely have no sense of adventure.” He paused, then held his own glass toward yours for a toast. “Y’know, I feel like we’re two minutes away from getting engaged for the free drinks. Might as well give each other names before the vows.”

Embarrassingly, you snorted at his joke. Maybe he found that cute, you didn’t ask.  “Is this where I find out your name is Steve?”

“I was going to give you a choice between first name basis or fake names, but now I think you only deserve to know my fake name.” His tone was teasing, light, you got the sense that if you asked for his first name, he’d give it to you anyways. 

“Code names are way more fun anyway. It keeps the mystery of the whole situation. Makes it feel risky.”

He leaned across the table towards you, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips again, “you’re so right, risky is always more fun.”

You reached a hand out towards him for him to shake, before giving him the fake name that you used for every wedding that you crashed, “Lila Hart. Social chameleon. Occasional damsel.”

He took your hand, “Blade Dusk. Professional plus one. Amateur cake thief.”

For the second time that night since meeting Blade Dusk, you burst out laughing, “Are you a real person or a vigilante-themed perfume line?” Blade Dusk, sounded nothing like a real person's name, and somehow, that made the fact that was what he wanted you to call him so much better. 

“Why not both? Imagine the ads.” He cleared his throat, deepening his voice to put on his best suave advertisement impression he could, “Try Blade Dusk now! For the sharp and sophisticated.”

This strange man that you had run into was certainly charming. Dangerously so, considering you were drinking with him and the weddings you crashed were where you truly let go. A break from the rather boring life of being a receptionist. He was fun, flirty, and overly attractive. 

How was any wedding you crashed after this going to top this one? 

“So then Lila Hart, when we’re asked how we met, what should we tell people? As such an alluring couple, we need to have an equally dazzling meet cute.” He leaned back into his chair, pursing his lips, the rest of his expression perfectly serious, coming up with his answer before you had a proper chance to respond, “We met when I was rescuing a cat from a tree.”

“You don’t strike me as a cat person.”

He sipped his drink, the same smirk from earlier playing at his lips once again, “She was very judgmental, exactly like you. I named her Brenda.”

“You named the cat Brenda? I could have come up with a better cat name than that.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “No, clearly I named the old lady who the cat belonged to Brenda. The cat was named Wrath. "You nearly choked on your drink when another laugh bubbled up mid sip. “Okay, fine, if you think you can do better then you try to come up with a dazzling story for how we met.”

You leaned in with a faux-dramatic whisper. This was going to be a whole performance, he’d given you a challenge, and you weren’t going to back down from a good challenge. “We met when I punched a guy at a flower shop.”

He squinted at you, “Very romantic.”

You put your hands up in the air dramatically, “He cut in line and tried to mansplain peonies to me, he deserved it! Then,” You turned your head to the side, speaking to an invisible audience member as fake as your invitation to the wedding, “ This one,” an accusatory finger pointed toward Blade, “clapped.”

He nodded, turning his attention to the fake audience member as well, playing along with your performance without so much as a blink, “Loudly, then I paid her bill for the flowers.”

“I took the flowers and ran.”

You almost expected him to stop playing along there, but he continued, “And I fell in love instantly.” He sighed, leaning back into his chair again and placing a hand over his heart, taking another sip of his drink and adding, “How could I not.”

You were giggling again. “Truly, a hallmark classic.”

“We’ll have a lifetime movie by next week.” He cleared his throat again, moving back into the same voice that he had used for the advertisement, “Come see Punched By Love in theatres near you. She just wanted peonies, he wanted justice. Together, they found something deadlier- romance.”

You bit your cheek to stop from laughing, but the sound still infiltrated your next words, “Clearly Petal to the Metal is a better title, do I at least let a slow-mo scene where I turn around with a bouquet and dramatic lighting?”

“Absolutely. Wind machine blowing on you, the whole works. Naturally it’s the same scene where I’m running to you in a soaking-wet suit.”

That earned another laugh, “Why are you wet?”

“I fell into a fountain.” He held his glass out to you, chuckling along with you,  the two of you now in a fit of giggles as you clinked your glasses together. “Petal to the Metal will have to be our wedding hashtag now.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m marrying someone who thinks ‘Wrath’ is a good cat name.”

“You say that now,” he leaned over the table toward you, “But wait until I introduce you to the dog. After a slow dance with my lovely wedding date, of course.” The song playing had transitioned into a slow dance, and you were having so much fun that you hadn’t even noticed. 

This was the first wedding you’d crashed that you found someone to slow dance with successfully. At least, someone that wasn’t a child.

You don’t hesitate, slipping your hand into his now extended one, abandoning your now empty flute of champagne and letting him lead you toward the edge of the dance floor. He steps closer, settling one of his hands at your waist. It was broad, steady, and comfortably warm. 

He leads the dance effortlessly, moving together in a slow, easy rhythm, entirely too comfortable for a wedding that neither of you were invited to. There’s still space between you, but it’s closing slowly with each step of the dance. The laughter between the two of you from just moments before had faded, replaced by quiet. 

He’s a good dancer. Certainly a better dancer than you were, at a minimum, he was much more graceful than you. 

“Do you do this kind of thing often?”

His expression shifts, he’s still smiling, but it’s not as bright and cheery as before, gentler, older, a remnant of something unspoken. “Not since…a long time ago.” He doesn’t sound like he’s pretending anymore. 

You’re pretty sure that you aren’t pretending either, ignoring the other people around you. It’s only the music, his hands, and the weight in your chest that hadn’t been there before. You take the last step and close the remaining space between the two of you, resting your head against his shoulder. 

You don’t speak, don’t need to. Just dancing along to the music with him until the tone of the songs changes. Even then, the two of you don’t stop dancing, the wobble, the cha cha slide, the chicken dance, just jumping, swaying, and him spinning you. Time blurred together, drinks blurred together. 

The next hour or two was warm gold and laughter, whatever drinks Blade brought back that he thought you’d like, at one point he stole a centerpiece of one of the tables. You hadn’t even asked about it, just raised your brows at him. He grinned and claimed it was “for symbolic reasons. It’s not like they’re going to use it after this”. You weren’t sure that it didn’t belong to the venue itself rather than the couple. 

As attractive as he was, it was bound that at some point someone was going to steal him away from you. And someone did, dragging him into a group dance. You slipped away, unnoticed, stepping onto a balcony. The music was still audible behind you, the air cooler on the balcony. 

Not that it bothered you, you had indulged in more than enough champagne that you felt warm, even if the air outside wasn’t. 

Your heels had come off at some point, leaving you barefoot, breathing in the faint scent of someone else's cigarette that had been smoked here recently. 

“Should’ve figured I’d find you out here,” Blade, you hadn’t heard him come out. HIs voice was quieter than it was inside, no longer needing to speak over the noise of the reception. 

You glanced back at him. He was leaning against the doorframe, his Jacket had gotten lost at some point during dancing, undershirt half -untucked. Significantly messier now than when he had introduced himself to you as Blade Dusk. Yet somehow, he was more attractive this way, previously pristine and now slightly sweaty from all the dancing you’d been doing. 

Your state was likely similar, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Tonight had been fun, and it was sad that the night was ending. You wished it could just go on forever. 

“Needed air, and a break from our Oscar campaign.”

He stepped forward, leaning on the railing next to you, attention rapt on you, nothing else. “I was starting to lose the plot anyway.” A beat of silence, then he was speaking again. “I lied earlier. I’m not related to anyone here. Not the bride, not a plus one. Not even a very charming distant cousin twice removed.”

“It was sort of obvious.” You were smirking at him now, finally your turn to give him a smug look. 

That got a soft laugh from him, one that faded too quickly. “Guess I'm not as smooth as I thought.” Another beat passed. “Truth is, I come to these sometimes. Not often. Only when I feel like I’m forgetting what happiness looks like.”

“You…watch people's happiest day of their lives to remind yourself love exists?”

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, it wasn’t with a joke like you had come to expect from him throughout the course of the night. “I don’t get invited to many weddings. Most people I love don’t make it that far.”

The words sat between you, heavy. Even if you had spent the night laughing with him, you really didn’t know who he was, didn’t know anything about him. Despite that, something in your chest cracked open for him anyways. 

Unable to find the words, you didn’t say anything, just stepped a little closer, and without thinking about it, you kissed him. Clumsy, off center, and more than a little drunk, but it was warm. He kissed you back, wrapped one hand around your waist, tangled the other in the fabric of your dress. 

The kiss wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t slow, and it certainly wasn’t careful. Two drunken strangers kissing, that's what it was. Yet somehow, it was the best kiss that you’d ever had. 

You paused, mumbling into the kiss, “I think I’m drunk.” You didn’t move away though, neither did he. Lips still pressed together. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

Neither of you moved. 

Neither of you wanted to.

You’d slept off what was inevitably going to be a hangover. You slept so long that when you woke up next the sun was already setting again. You were still in your dress from the wedding, one earring missing, eyeliner running, lipstick smudged. But hey, at least you didn’t have a headache and you didn’t feel like throwing up. 

Downside, you didn’t remember getting home. You also didn’t remember anything that happened after you kissed the sexy stranger - Blade - on the balcony of that venue. 

Realistically, you should get up and shower. But you don’t get out of bed, laying there and staring at the ceiling. You weren’t going to just stop crashing weddings when you had the chance, no. But you really didn’t think any wedding you went to after this could top this one. The night had been perfect. Quite literally perfect. 

You were entirely sure that when you told your coworkers, friends, family, whoever, about the night they would think you were making it up. Hell, you could actually pitch it to some movie studio and it could become the next big rom com. 

A damsel in distress being saved by a charming stranger, joking at a table while stuffing your face with cake, dancing the night away, ending it on a kiss (even if the kiss was because he was sad).

It almost didn’t feel real. It was too perfect. Maybe you were entirely delusional and had simply made the man up in your drunken state. Maybe the venue slipped something into your drink. Maybe, just maybe, you were just hallucinating for no reason. If you did, you seriously needed to get a new therapist. 

But it felt real, somewhere, somehow, you knew it was real. There were no photos on your phone, no proof. Yet somehow that was okay. It was a memory to be cherished by you, and Blade. And nobody else needed to have any opinions on the night. 

The fake names, they were just the cherry on top of everything. Lila Hart was going to have to be retired, you’d need to come up with a new fake name. She could end the night with Blade Dusk, as ridiculous of a name as you got, and be happy. You, well you had to go back to your boring ass receptionist job in the morning. 

You weren’t the only one thinking about the previous night. 

Dick - Nightwing - was done with patrol, yet despite that he found himself laying on the rooftop of some random building, and staring up at the sky like it held some sort of answers for him.

He’d crashed weddings before, so why had this one been so different? The kiss maybe? The fact that you’d been willing to let him pretend to belong there? “It was sort of obvious” , yet you were perfectly content to let him play pretend with you for the night. 

And you liked him, enough to dance with him, flirt, play. That's what it had been, a game. A sweet, enjoyable roleplay, without any of the sexual aftertext. That's why  the two of you had ended the night with no way to find each other. No phone numbers, no real names, no real information exchanged. 

The only souvenirs he had were an earring he slipped off you before you ran off in a taxi like you were fleeing a crime scene, and the centerpiece he had stolen. Well, not really stolen. It wasn’t stealing when your adopted father owned the venue.

There were definitely more entertaining jobs than a receptionist at a blood donation center. But hey, it paid the bills. It paid surprisingly well actually. Most days you end up playing a solo game of “How Long Can I pretend to Work?”.

 Your entire job is to make sure people get checked in for their appointments before going to the intake nurse, and making appointments on the phone. Why the hell people made appointments when it was a walk-in thing? You weren’t really sure. But they did, on occasion. 

The door to the building opens, but before you have a chance to look up “Lila Hart,” Even after just one night a month ago, you’d recognize that voice anywhere, “The most scandalous receptionist in the tri-state area.” 

He’s somehow already leaning over the desk toward you like he’d been here for five minutes. Sunglasses still on, hair perfectly in place, lopsided grin, and a velvet box between his fingers. Your day was already wildly more entertaining than it was before. 

“Blade Dusk. Still going by that ridiculous name?”

“Only on special occasions. Like when I return earrings I took right out of a beautiful womans ear. Very romantic, very bold of me.”

You look at the box for a moment, before snatching it from his fingers, flipping it open. Sure enough, he had put your missing earring - that he’d apparently stolen without you remembering - in a ring box. “You literally stole jewelry off my body.”

“Don’t make it weird, Lila. It was the same thing as the centerpiece I took. A borrowed memento, like a very suave, very emotionally-well adjusted thief.” The same teasing, lighthearted tone that he had at the wedding was present. Yet you found yourself playing along, disregarding the fact you were supposed to be working, you were supposed to be being professional for the moment. 

“And that very suave, very emotionally-well adjusted thief returns the earrings he takes?”

“To donate blood actually. The earring was just a happy accident. Getting to flirt with the pretty receptionist is always a bonus,” You couldn’t tell if he was lying, or if it was just a coincidence he was here. But if it was a coincidence he was here, had he been carrying the earring around with him for the entire month just hoping that he’d run into you again? 

“You do realize this isn’t a bar, right? You don’t flirt your way through blood donation.”

“Oh sweetheart, that sounds like a challenge.” And with the wave of your hand towards the intake nurse, and he walks over her way. It’s fascinating really, watching him charm the intake nurse, purposefully botch the health questionnaire so he has to redo it three times, and stretch out in the donation chair like it’s his own personal throne. 

Halfway through the draw he calls over to you with a dramatic sigh, “Lila? If I don’t make it, tell the next bride she was a close second.” 

Your coworkers were so going to have questions about this later. But for now you just rested your chin in your hand, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile, pretending to be busy so that you don’t have to respond. 

When he returns he has a fresh bandage on his arm and a juice box in hand. Leaning back over the desk again, this time as far as he could possibly get to you before it would officially be weird considering there was a counter between the two of you. “So, there’s a wedding next weekend. Outdoor venue. Very tasteful, or maybe tacky, there’s no way to tell until we see the cake.”

“Planning on crashing another one so soon?”

“Only if my favorite co-conspirator says yes.”

He has you laughing again. What in the world is going on? You didn’t even have champagne to blame this time. “You really don’t know when to quit.” You had officially decided you didn’t want him to quit though. This was significantly more fun. 

“Never. Especially not with a girl who fake-flirted with me in front of an entire wedding reception we weren’t invited to, then fled the scene like a very attractive fugitive.”

You shake your head, but there's a smile spread across your face that you just can't help. You’d failed to act like this wasn’t the highlight of your week, if not month. This certainly wasn’t professional, but he was the only donator in the building for the moment. “I’ll go, but I get to pick your next fake name.”

“Deal. But only if you can top Blade Dusk . It’s going to be hard.”

“That’s what she said.” Damn, you were trying to cut down on middle school grade humor. And you’d been doing so well lately. 

“I love it when you talk to me like a middle school boy.”

You slid a post it note and a pen towards him, “Write down the details and I’ll meet you there. If you can find me, that is.”

He scribbles the information down on the post it, folds it once, then flicks it back across the desk. “No GPS. No backup. Just vibes.” He starts backing away towards the door, “Don’t be late Miss Hart.”

The post-it note went into the same pocket as your newly returned earring. 

You show up to the next wedding the same way you do every wedding. A little while into the reception. Whoever was in charge of this wedding definitely had a pinterest board titled “elevated whimsy”, string lights, white marble panels on the lawn for the dance floor, an entire jazz quartet playing a song you don’t recognize. 

You don’t look for Blade, no, you let him come to you, a challenge to come find you, just as you had told him at your job. He - quite literally - appears from behind a hedge, with two champagne flutes, and grinning like he’s been waiting to deliver this line all night. Maybe he had been.  “Lila Hart, you’re late. I was beginning to think I got stood up by my favorite fake girlfriend.”

“You have multiple fake girlfriends? I thought I would be more than enough.”

“You are,” He hands you one of the flutes of champagne, offering you his million dollar grin, “But I'm dramatic, and I needed to make you jealous.”

“Of an imaginary harem?”

“Of course, but we’re exclusive, promise. Just me, you and a few stolen napkins.”

You don't mean to, but you still laugh at him. “In that case I was very jealous.” 

He offers you his arm like it’s an old habit, like you two have done this a million times. As if it was a routine, even though it’s something you’ve only done once before, and that was by accident, unplanned. This time is different, you find yourself wondering how the night will end compared to last time. 

“You clean up nice Blade,”

“Please, it’s Maverick Thorn, if we’re going by tonight's registry. But you will always be the stunning Lila Hart.”

You mock a gasp at him, “You went rogue on me.”

“You were late. I panicked and told the bartender my name was Maverick.”  Despite his accusatory tone, he leads you to one of the tables, one full of strangers and you sit down. Even without a plan in place, the two of you lie in tandem perfectly. Pretend to know the bride’s college roommate, the silly story about punching a guy in a flower shop, your shared dog named Pickles. He even goes so far as to make up a back injury that leaves you participating in a conga line by yourself.

For payback you tell someone his real name is Horace. 

It’s stupid. 

It’s ridiculous. 

It’s perfect. 

It’s not long until he’s leading you out onto the dance floor, shoes clicking against the marble. Just like the lying, he holds you like he’s done it before, like you fit there. As if this isn’t all one big elaborate game of pretend that you’ve started with a stranger. One of his hands is on your wait, the other holding your hand, fingers locked together carefully. 

You try not to look too pleased. To not let the line between make believe and reality blur together too much, but you fail. Everything is just too perfect, too romantic. The music is slow, not so slow that it is sleepy, but enough to be intimate. You find yourself leaning in towards him, closer than you have to be. His hand slides down on your back, you let it. 

“Are you always this good at pretending to be someone's date?” Your voice is low, almost a whisper. The volume it would be if you were whispering sweet nothings into his ear. 

“Only yours.”

You roll your eyes, you aren’t smiling, except you most certainly are, and he’s most certainly seen his. His expression changing to match yours. He spins you once, not flashy, just smooth and simple, and you laugh in response. Breathless when he pulls you back in close, closer than you were before. 

“If I start falling for you,” You murmur, “can I blame the open bar?”

“Sure,” He lowers his head, lowering his voice with it, mouth practically rubbing against your cheek, “But we both know it’s the dancing.”

You’re about to respond, something clever, something safe, something true, you aren’t sure what you were going to say. But someone interrupts, and you’re almost grateful for it, someone breaking the illusion so you don’t have to come up with an adequate response to the words you hadn’t even meant to be audible. “You two are just darling, when’s the big day?”

You freeze, body tensing automatically, brain flipping through a thousand possible replies. There’s no reason the idea that the two of you are engaged should be as terrifying as it it, you’re already here with him, and according to the fake stories that you’ve told through the night you already live together and have a dog together who you both care for like a child. 

But before you can say anything, he speaks up, “Still figuring it out.” He says it so casually it’s almost aggravating. Not like the words didn’t mean anything, but like it was second nature. And it seems to do more than enough to please the woman, letting out a delighted hum and floating away.

And you’re stuck there staring at your own hand, held by his, fingers intertwined, like it belongs there. You rip your attention back up to him, and he seems perfectly calm, even as he leads you away from the dance floor and towards more champagne. 

“That was bold.”

“So was the dress. You set the tone, I followed.”

“You just lied to someone's grandmother.”

“I gave her a beautiful memory, you’re welcome.”

You should laugh, you should roll your eyes. You should do something that distances this from reality, tows the line between the long elaborate bit that you’re doing, and your actual emotions. But it’s too late for that, somewhere along the way you’ve already crossed some sort of invisible line. “You know that wasn’t part of the bit,” You’re quiet now, the entire moment has slipped into something more intimate, “That line, the way you said it.” 

He looks at you then, really looks at you, eyes roaming over your facial features. “Yeah, but I wanted to say it anyway.”

You’re still holding hands, and you still don’t know his real name. But he’s not asking for yours either. Nothing about the story you’ve woven tonight is real, but somehow, despite everything, he’s real, he’s here, and so are you. You let that comfort you, let your thumb brush lightly over his knuckle. 

He doesn’t let go, and neither do you. 

It’s sometime after midnight when the two of you slip out of the side gate, both of you are drunk, having had more than your share of champagne. Your heels once tolerable, have declared war on your feet. They aren’t even the most impressive heels that you have, after all, outdoor venues and heels don’t mix well. Yet your feet are still protesting with every step you take. 

Once Blade, now Maverick, notices and stops mid-stride. “Give me your shoes” he says

“Excuse me?”

“Your heels, hand them over.”

“You’re serious.”

“Always.” That statement was certainly not true. But still, you slip off your heels and hand them over to him. Despite being relieved of your shoes, he scoops you into his arms, one under your knees, the other behind your back, and just starts walking down the street like this is normal.

Nothing about this is normal. But nothing about him has been normal, not a single thing since the moment you met him, and you have rather willingly continued with the bit, long past when anyone else would have stopped. 

“This is ridiculous.”

“You say that, but you’re not asking me to stop.”

You aren’t, not even a little. You’ve gone so far as to let your head rest lightly against his shoulder. It’s because of the champagne, it’s because of the ache in your feet. It’s certainly not because it feels good, because he smells like clean laundry and expensive cologne. It’s certainly not because his grip is gentle and it's making your chest feel all floaty and traitorous. 

You speak again after a block, “So, how long have you been fantasizing about carrying me off into the night?”

“Since the first wedding,” His voice is steady and sure, something about his tone makes you think he’s genuine, “I just didn’t think I’d get the chance without kidnapping charges.” The joke tacked on at the end makes you snort, and he grins at you like that was the whole point. 

He walks three blocks like that, not asking if you had anywhere to go, simply carrying you away from the venue, acting like it's the most natural thing in the world. He finally sets you down on the curb underneath a neon sign of some small diner that's still open this late. Your shoes are set down next to you, and he shrugs off his jacket, laying it over your legs without a word. 

He just had to be the best date you’ve ever had, didn’t he? Even if it was all fake. 

“You really committed back there,” you weren't entirely dropping the bit. You still weren’t going to give him your real name, not yet. Not if this game could go on longer. A much more glamorous version of yourself. 

“You wore glitter, I had to rise to the occasion.”

You bump your knee against his. He bumps yours back, and you both stare ahead like you haven’t been tiptoeing around something that stopped truly being a game an hour ago. 

“I don’t get invited to happy things often,” his voice is soft, almost distant, the words nearly sounding like they aren’t for you, “You’re making me greedy for them.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

He doesn’t respond, neither of you look at each other. He wasn’t trying to charm you with the words, they just were. So you reach out and hook your pinky through his and sit there for a while, longer than you should. 

“I should call a cab.”  He doesn’t argue, and with your free hand you open up your phone, using the most consistent app for this part of Gotham to call one. The only safe one actually, thanks to Wayne industries. As much as you heard about the Waynes from various people, you purposefully didn't pay attention. Billionaire drama just didn't interest you. Your time could be better spent finding more weddings to crash. But the app was helpful. 

He doesn’t let go of your pinky though, not until the cab is pulling up and he’s hastily reaching into his jacket - still on your lap - pulling out a pen and scrawling a number across your arm with it. “Text me, If you want another date.”

“You mean another wedding?”

“Same thing at this point.” You smile, moving to stand up and give him the jacket back when he shakes his head, “keep it. Just in case you decide you don’t want another date. That way you’ll still have something to remember me by.”

You can't help the soft smirk that you look at him with, “What makes you think I’ll want a souvenir from a fake fiancé?” 

“Because I looked great in that jacket, and I'm emotionally generous.” 

You roll your eyes, and glance at the cab, but bend down towards where he’s still sitting on the curb. You’re barefoot, and tipsy, and not sure if this is the end of a lovely memory, or the beginning of a new adventure, but despite that you lean forward and kiss him. It’s not wild, it’s not dramatic. It’s slow, simple, chaste. 

“Maverick Thorn.”

“Lila Hart.” 

Then, just like a girl in a movie - or like a drunken, barefoot fool - with his jacket wrapped around your shoulders, his number written on your arm, and the taste of him on your lips, you slide into the cab. You don’t look back, but he watches you go. Maybe this time it’s not pretend at all.

Unknown Number:  Hey, it’s Lila. From the wedding. The one you carried three blocks and kissed on the curb. 

Blade Dusk: Lila Hart. I was beginning to wonder if I had imagined you. 

Blade Dusk: Happy to know you aren’t a figment. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve hallucinated someone. 

Blade Dusk: Though the curb moment was suspiciously cinematic. 

Lila Hart: I debated not texting. Figured disappearing might keep the story cleaner. 

 Blade Dusk: Probably, but a cleaner story wouldn’t have your number in it. 

Blade Dusk: So i’ll take the messy Version

Lila Hart: S o will I

Lila Hart: I think

Lila Hart: That offer for a third wedding still on the table?

Blade Dusk: Always

Blade Dusk: But we could try something else too. Something not involving stolen cake or linen suits. 

And that's how you ended up with Blade Dusk on your couch three days later, takeout spread across the living room table, a rom com on the television. Both of you were in pajamas, about the total opposite of the first two times that you’d met. You two had agreed on one thing, you were keeping with the fake names. They were fun. 

They were a way to try and hold on to the mystery a little longer. But the two of you were certainly getting to know each other, even outside of crashing weddings. Falling asleep tangled up on one anothers’ couches after a late night movie marathon, the two of you only ever got through one maybe two movies in an entire night. Both of you pause the movie every five minutes to discuss. 

There were texts to, constant text conversations. Your phone buzzed endlessly, so you knew his did too. There were no labels on your relationship, yet there was near constant flirting, playful banter, debates, you’d started sending outfit of the day photos to each other even.

This, of course, did not go unnoticed. Especially not by Dicks family. And the teasing was endless, especially when they saw her call him “Blade Dusk.” Every single one of them referred to him as Blade Dusk every single chance they got. The next undercover mission he went on they tried to convince him to go by Blade Dusk. 

He had refused that idea. 

You certainly noticed the hints of something that he wasn’t telling you, beyond the fake name. There were subtle bruises on his knuckles, being busy almost every single night, things only got more obvious as you got to know him more. But he never gave you a proper answer, “Isn’t risky the fun part? Secrets are risky.”

Secrets were sexy. 

You moved on anyway. You liked him, a lot, and you two were still tip-toeing around the fact that this was something real, something serious, something more than a game. A game where you crashed at each other's houses consistently, but a game nonetheless. 

The way you crashed weddings started changing to, your cover up stories got more and more ridiculous, eventually you two started pushing the boundaries to see what you could get away with. One time Blade had managed to stand with the groomsmen, and gave a speech.

More than once you two had gotten caught kissing in a broom closet or stealing centerpieces from the wedding. 

Somewhere along the way it had stopped being about the game, and more about spending time with each other. The game changed into seeing how close you could get to one another's identities before finding out, or  tricking the other into revealing their real name. The nature of the game all depended on the moment itself. Truth or Dare became a favorite, especially after a movie and one too many glasses of wine. 

Tonight was just one of many nights where Netflix was trying to entice you into choosing what to watch yet, and you were dutifully ignoring it. Wine drunk, warm, and snuggling Blade way too intimately for someone who didn’t know his real name. Somehow, that didn’t bother you. 

“Truth of dare?” you murmured, poking him lazily on the cheek with one of your fingers. 

“Should I be concerned?”

“Always, pick one.”

He stretched out a little, taking up more space on the couch and causing you to fall from his shoulder and into his lap. “Dare.”

You grinned, this was something you’d been thinking over. Some way to win the game, this could give you a huge hint, even his name flat out, or it could end up being a total waste of time. “Read me your last text message. No editing.”

“You know I text weird people.”

“You think I'm a weird person. Read it coward.”

He sighed, but pulled his phone from the couch cushion, unlocking it. He was still as cocky as always. It had been months now, and the only reason why neither of you had given in was a mean stubborn streak both of you had.  You both wanted to win this game. “Don't read too much into it. It says; ‘ safe for now. Patrol finished early. Tell B I won’t make it to debrief. Needed to crash somewhere off grid.’ ”

Your brow furrowed, “That sounds intense. What kind of friends are you texting, and what the hell are you patrolling?”

He gave you a faux innocent look, the text sounded serious, but Blade Dusk was not a serious man. “Neighborhood Watch is very demanding.”

You couldn’t help the laugh, “Yeah, you’d be the kind of man who owns reflective gear and a clipboard.” You stared at him, trying to read between the lines, but he slipped his fingers underneath the hem of your pajama shorts (they were his really, you’d just stolen them). The brush of his fingers against your leg was just enough to let the topic slide. 

“For the record, that was suspicious.” You were muttering, almost pouting.

“You’re suspicious.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“And yet,” he leaned down toward you, dropping his voice low, “You’re still on my couch.” He pressed a kiss to your nose, and was met with a pinch of your fingers on his arm. 

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What do you think about right before you fall asleep?”

He was quiet for a moment, fingers still lazily rubbing circles against your leg, “Sometimes,” his voice was soft, somber, more serious than you were used to him being, “I imagine what it’d be like if this was real. If I got to show up without pretending, no aliases, no jokes. Just…this.”

Your heart fluttered. It would be a lie to say that you didn’t think about it too. It wasn’t that how you felt about each other, or how you behaved was a joke, no. At some point, that had all become real. Yet, neither of you were able to give up the game that you had started months ago, a game that kept your relationship light and easy, pressure free. 

“Sounds like someone's getting soft.”

He shrugged, “Or smart. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

He hesitated, eyes on your face, “What would your real name be if you ever gave it up?”

“That's a good one. But it is premature. Ask again when I don’t feel like winning.”

He groaned, but he was still smiling down at you, “So competitive,”

You laughed, and moved from his lap, standing up and stretching, “I’m going to bed. Are you coming?”

“Yeah.”

Your game continued for months longer, it had officially been over a year since the first wedding, and truthfully, you were about to break down and tell him your real name. Your friends and coworkers thought you were insane whenever you tried to explain who the hell Blade Dusk was, your family felt the same way. 

But it was Blade who ended the game, giving you a win, and something else. It was late at night, you were usually asleep by now, and you weren’t exactly sure why you were awake, something had woken you up, for sure, you just didn't know what. So you got up, grabbed the bat you kept by your bed, and crept towards the living room. 

It was lucky, really lucky, that you had spent so much time with him, that even in the dark, with only the light from the streetlamps that made its way through the living room window, you could recognize Blades figure. Otherwise he would’ve gotten a bat to the head. 

The bat dropped to the ground with a clang, “Blade?”

He tried to turn to look at you, but hissed in pain when he did. You rushed over, and even though it was obvious - so obvious - that he was fully clad in nightwings outfit, but you were focused on the wound on his side, still bleeding on your couch and throw pillows.

Blade being Nightwing could wait for another time, it wasn’t important at that exact moment. Keeping him alive was important. Even the idea of having to live life without him again was horrifying. You’d had a nightmare more than once about that. 

So you pressed a hand against it, that’s what you were supposed to do right? Put pressure on it to stop bleeding? 

“God. You look gorgeous when you panic.”

“This is not funny.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

You could feel the warm blood pooling around your fingers, you put more pressure against his side, trying to get it to stop bleeding. Enough pressure that he rolled onto his side completely laying down on the couch. You moved to get a better angle to put more pressure on it. “What am I supposed to do here Blade? Do I call someone or?”

“It’s not Blade. It’s Dick.” 

In any other situation you would have laughed. But considering he was practically bleeding out on your couch, the joke didn’t even cross your mind. You just adapted to the situation and moved on, “Dick? Okay but that’s not what's important right now. What am I supposed to do?”

“My comms are down. I can’t call for backup myself and my phone is busted. But- I have their emergency numbers memorized, can you get your phone and call?”

You were quick, quite literally running back to your bedroom to get your phone, and then move so that you were putting pressure on the wound again, the bleeding wasn’t slowing down. He recited the number, and with your free hand you dialed it before setting the phone to speaker and setting it down, the other hand going back to cover the wound. 

It only took a moment for someone to pick up the phone, “What?”

You didn’t know what to say, didn't even know who the hell you were calling. You were panicking, but that was fine. You were putting pressure on the wound and Dick was talking to whoever was on the phone. Giving your address, and you were just trying to keep pressure on the wound. 

Fuck what if they didn’t get here in time?

“Lila.”

That got your attention, enough to look at him and realize that you were shaking, “Yeah?”

“Do I get to know your name now?”

You nodded dumbly, taking a second before telling him your name. He repeated it, smiling despite the blood still coming from his side. “Thanks for not running.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. Because I'm not done with you yet.”

[zeynepom3r]

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[deansbeer]

so uh

camping with dean/beau/jensen (i can't choose), and it's like really raining out and cold. the tent and sleeping bags are practically doing nothing to keep you warm, so the two have to snuggle up together for warmth… which eventually leads to smut may or may not be based on an experience i had (partially)

hi baby!! i meant to post this sooner but i got distracted with work <3

♡ ⋮ minors do not interact.

synopsis 𓏵 stuck in a freezing damp tent during a raging thunderstorm, you and dean find creative ways to stay warm together.

warnings 𓏵 smut | forced proximity (they share a tent) | semi-public sex | unprotected sex (use the rubber) | dirty talk | sharing body heat | cunnilingus | fingering | mild temperature play.

the rain hasn’t stopped for three hours now, and you’re pretty sure your teeth are going to chatter right out of your skull. this whole camping trip was dean’s idea — something about “getting back to basics” after the last hunt went sideways. you’d agreed because, well, when dean winchester flashes that crooked grin and says “come on, it’ll be fun,” you apparently lose all common sense.

except now you’re in the middle of nowhere, oregon, in what feels like a hurricane, and the tent is about as waterproof as a screen door. water’s seeping in from the corners, your sleeping bag feels like you crawled inside a wet paper towel, and you can’t feel your toes. dean’s on the other side of the tent, and you can hear him muttering curses under his breath as he tries to stop another leak with duct tape. because of course he brought duct tape camping.

“this was a terrible idea,” you announce through chattering teeth, pulling your damp sleeping bag up to your chin. it doesn’t help. if anything, the wet fabric just makes you colder. “we could’ve been in a motel right now. with heat. and walls that actually keep water out.”

“yeah, well,” dean grunts, giving up on the duct tape and tossing it aside. “the forecast said partly cloudy. how was i supposed to know partly cloudy meant biblical flood?” he’s soaked too, his flannel clinging to his shoulders in a way that would be distracting if you weren’t actively dying of hypothermia.

“maybe check more than one weather app next time?” you suggest, but there’s no real heat in it. you’re too cold to be properly angry. “dean, seriously, i can’t feel my feet. or my hands. or... anything really.”

he turns to look at you then, and even in the dim light of the camping lantern, you can see the concern flash across his face. dean winchester might play tough, but he’s got a protective streak a mile wide. “shit, sweetheart, you’re shaking like a leaf.” he moves closer, reaching out to touch your face. his fingers are cold too, but still warmer than your cheek. “fuck, you’re like ice.”

“we gotta warm you up,” he says, already moving into problem-solving mode. “body heat’s the fastest way when you’re this cold.” he starts unzipping his sleeping bag with determined movements. “come on, we’re combining these things.”

“what?” you blink at him, brain moving sluggishly from the cold. “dean, that’s...” but he’s already spreading his sleeping bag on the tent floor and motioning for you to bring yours over. the practical part of your brain knows he’s right — shared body heat is survival 101. the other part of your brain, the one that’s been harboring a crush on dean since the day you met him, is screaming.

“unless you wanna lose some toes to frostbite, get over here,” he orders, and that snaps you into motion. you crawl over with your sleeping bag, helping him zip them together into one large cocoon. the whole time, you’re hyperaware of how close he is, how his t-shirt is soaked through and clinging to his chest.

“lose the wet clothes,” he says matter-of-factly, already pulling his flannel off. “they’re just making it worse.” when you hesitate, he rolls his eyes. “come on, we’re both adults here. nothing i haven’t seen before.” which is a lie — he’s definitely never seen you in your underwear — but you’re too cold to argue.

you strip down to your underwear with numb fingers, trying not to think about the fact that dean is doing the same thing two feet away. when you finally slide into the combined sleeping bag, wearing nothing but your bra and panties, dean’s already there in just his boxers. the touch of his skin against yours is like fire and ice at the same time.

“jesus,” he hisses, when you press against him. “you’re like a frozen ice cube.” but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. “c’mere, gonna warm you up.” his body heat feels incredible, and you can’t help but burrow closer, dignity be damned.

“better?” he asks after a few minutes, and honestly? yeah. the shivers are starting to subside, replaced by a different kind of tension. because now that you’re not actively dying of cold, you’re extremely aware that you’re pressed against dean’s very naked, very warm chest. his hands are rubbing slow circles on your back, and it’s supposed to be warming, but it’s also doing other things.

“yeah,” you manage, voice coming out breathier than intended. “so much better.” your face is tucked into his neck, and he smells like rain and leather and that uniquely dean scent that’s been driving you crazy for months. his hands are large and warm on your back, and every sweep of his fingers sends little sparks through you.

“good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and his voice is different now. deeper. “can’t have you freezing on my watch.” one of his hands slides lower, resting just above the waistband of your panties, and your breath hitches. “you know,” he continues, and you can hear the smirk in his voice, “there are other ways to generate body heat.”

you pull back enough to look at him, and his eyes are dark in the lantern light. “dean,” you breathe, but you’re not sure if it’s a warning or encouragement. probably both. “we shouldn’t...” but even as you say it, your body is pressing closer to his, seeking more contact.

“and why not?” he challenges, hand sliding up to cup your face. “been wanting to do this for months, sweetheart. and if we’re gonna be stuck in this tent all night...” he trails off, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “might as well make the most of it.”

“months?” you repeat in slight disbelief, brain short-circuiting a little. “you’ve wanted...” but he cuts you off with a kiss, and holy shit, dean winchester is kissing you! his lips are soft but demanding, and when he nips at your bottom lip, you open for him immediately. the kiss is hot and desperate, months of tension pouring out all at once.

“fuck,” he groans when you break apart for air. “knew you’d taste sweet.” his hands are everywhere now, sliding over your sides, your hips, the curve of your ass. “been driving me crazy, you know that? walking around in those tight lil’ jeans of yours, bending over in front of me...” he punctuates each word with a kiss to your neck, and you’re practically melting.

“oh, dean,” you gasp, hands clutching at his shoulders. “please...” you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, just that you need more. he seems to understand, rolling you onto your back and hovering over you. the sleeping bag is tight quarters, but he manages it, settling between your thighs like he belongs there.

“gonna warm ya up,” he promises, voice rough with want. “gonna make you feel so good you’ll be begging me to cool you down.” his mouth trails down your neck, across your collarbone, and when he reaches the edge of your bra, he looks up at you. “this okay?”

“god, yes,” you breathe, and he grins, that cocky grin that makes your stomach flip. he unhooks your bra with practiced ease, tossing it somewhere in the tent. his mouth is on your breasts immediately, and the contrast of his hot mouth against your still-cool skin makes you arch beneath him.

“perfect, sweetheart,” he mutters against your skin. “so fucking perfect.” he lavishes attention on each breast, using his tongue and teeth until you’re squirming beneath him. when he finally starts kissing his way down your stomach, you know where he’s heading, and your whole body tenses in anticipation.

“dean, you don’t have to...” but he’s already hooking his fingers in your panties, pulling them down your legs. “oh god,” you gasp when his mouth finds you, hot and perfect and exactly what you need. he eats you out like he does everything else — with single-minded determination and skill that should be illegal.

within minutes, you’re writhing beneath him, one hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re making. the rain might be loud, but you’re pretty sure the whole forest doesn’t need to hear what dean winchester’s tongue is doing to you.

when you come, it’s with his name on your lips, like a prayer and your fingers tangled in his hair. he works you through it, only pulling away when you’re shaking for a completely different reason than cold. “told you i’d warm you up,” he says, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he crawls back up your body. you can taste yourself on his lips when he kisses you, and it’s filthy and perfect and you need him inside you right now.

“wait,” you breathe against his mouth, reaching between you to palm him through his boxers. he’s hard and hot and when you squeeze, he groans into your mouth. “i need you. de, please.”

“yeah, baby?” he asks, but he’s already shoving his boxers down. “you sure about this? because once i have you...” he trails off, but the intensity in his eyes finishes the sentence.

“i’m sure,”,you tell him, wrapping your legs around his waist. “been sure for months.” that seems to break his control. he lines himself up and pushes in slowly, and the stretch is perfect, exactly what you needed. when he’s fully seated, you both need a moment, panting heavily into each other’s mouths.

“holy fuck,” he breathes. “you feel incredible, baby girl. so fuckin’ tight.” he starts moving, slow at first but quickly building to a rhythm that has you seeing stars. the sleeping bag restricts movement somewhat, but it also keeps you pressed close together, every inch of skin touching. “not gonna last,” he warns, and you can feel him trembling with the effort of holding back.

“don’t,” you gasp, meeting him thrust for thrust as much as the confined space allows. “wanna feel you. want you to come inside me.” the words make him groan, hips stuttering. a few more thrusts and he feels like he’s on cloud nine, face buried in your neck as he empties himself inside you.

you lie there catching your breath, still tangled together in the sleeping bag. the rain is still pounding on the tent, but you’re warm now, flushed and satisfied. “so,” dean says eventually, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “still think camping was a terrible idea?”

“the worst idea,” you agree, but you’re cheesing hard. “we should probably do it again sometime. you know, just to make sure we’ve got the whole body heat thing down.”

he laughs, pulling you closer. “deal. but next time, i’m checking five weather apps.” you’re about to respond when he shifts inside you, still half-hard, and your words dissolve into a gasp. “actually,” he grunts, voice dropping back to that dangerous register, “storm’s not supposed to pass until morning. might need to keep generating heat all night. you know, for safety.”

“yeah, yeah. for safety,” you agree breathlessly, already rolling your hips against his. after all, you wouldn’t want to get cold again. and if dean winchester wants to spend all night keeping you warm? well, who are you to argue with survival tactics?

[foolishlovers]

With 2024 coming to an end, I just wanted to give a quick shout-out to my favourite fics I (re)read this year. I have so so much appreciation for all writers creating beautiful works about our beloved angel and demon pair. Reading these sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes sappy, sometimes deliciously filthy stories has been a constant source of joy. I truly can't even begin to describe how thankful I am to be part of such an incredibly creative and loving fandom. So so much gratitude for all the different versions of them, all the genders, all the tropes, all the canon fics, and all the human AUs. There are so many more amazing fics I read this year and there are so many more to explore in 2025, but the following few have made themselves a home in my heart. I promise they're worth a read! 💜 [I do fic recs all year long, check out this tag for more.]

Date by @ddagent (2.5k, T)

Every year, Aziraphale is spoiled on his birthday. This year, he decides to do the same for Crowley. There's only one problem - he's not actually sure when Crowley's birthday is.

Roller Derby Queen by @summerofspock (2.5k, M)

Crowley skates for Hell on Wheels and she's pretty good at it too. She'd be better if she weren't so distracted by the new skater on the opposing team.

Sweet Nectar of the Eldritch Gods by @brenna (3.2k, G)

Azira writes a letter to the purveyor of her favorite honeys and sweetness ensues. No offence, but who says “by the by,” by the way? It’s adorable? By the by, do you like wine? Crowley

Poor Men by @why-not-go-with-style (3.9k, G)

What To Do When Two of Your Professors Are Hopelessly in Love With Each Other: an instruction manual by Adam Young (featuring Pepper Moonchild because someone has to be the voice of reason here).

!False (It's Funny Because It's True) by @mirjam-writes (6.4k, E)

Aziraphale drew a long breath through his nose. Crowley, of course it had to be Crowley. The new guy in the sales department, who would promise potential customers just about anything to close a deal. Arrogant, annoying – and wildly, stupidly attractive. Aziraphale hated him.  Aziraphale is a stellar software architect and a project manager, who is so done with the sales department selling unrealistically scheduled and budgeted projects. And he definitely doesn't have a crush on anyone, thank you very much.

Show me where the Nightingale sings by @sabotage-on-mercury (6.5k, G)

After settling into their new home in the South Downs there are still things to process for Aziraphale and Crowley before they can start a new chapter of their life. But winter is turning into spring. There is magic abroad in the air. And finally, the nightingale is back.

The Art of Human Nature by @ineffable-doll (6.5k, T)

Crowley is a painter who has only ever had an eye for nature. That is, until a client named Aziraphale commissions her for a painting to boost her self-confidence, and Crowley discovers that her client is as beautiful as the Earth itself. Then she goes and catches feelings, because she’s a disaster.

Lit by @fellshish (12k, T)

Crowley takes a university course on literature and surprise! The book they’re discussing is Good Omens. Uh oh.

Paradigm Shift by @hakunahistata (13k, E)

“Apologies, apologies! The time got away from me.” Aziraphale Fell entered the room brightly, a binder in one hand, tea mug in the other. Crowley’s languid sprawl went rigid as the senior accounting analyst who had been the indulgent secret in the back of his mind took the seat opposite him.   Or, Crowley Pines at the Office: An AU.

Feast by @ashfae, mostlyjustgoose (15k, E)

Crowley's spent the whole of lockdown asleep. Aziraphale has spent the whole of lockdown baking, cooking, and becoming increasingly frustrated with his solitude. Which eventually leads him to the perfect way to solve all his problems at once... Or, Aziraphale attempts to seduce Crowley with a truly excellent meal, and Crowley is amenable.

Ever-Fixed by @hkblack (19k, E)

Aziraphale Fell had a plan. Go to school, get his degree, and start his life with his beloved at his side as man and wife. Until one day Crowley disappears. Decades later he meets a man, and finds the love of his life again. Anthony J. Crowley, suave, cool, masculine, in control, unflappable, has spent decades building himself up. He refuses to let his confident facade disappear for Aziraphale, who once almost tumbled down the stairs to certain death because his nose was stuck in a book. It’s just sex, and they’ve been dating for months, this time around. There’s no need to get his knickers in a knot. But the past isn’t easy to let go of, even if you’re both avoiding it. A story about love, intimacy, and finding each other again. (Alternatively: Tender smut, but then I wrote love story flashbacks, and now it's just emotional and there's plot in my pornography)

Fireworks by @optimistic-starlight (19k, E)

He had to get himself under control. Aziraphale needed him. That prick boyfriend of his drained so much of Aziraphale's time and energy, dampened so much of the gentle, beaming happiness that Crowley had always adored about him. He needed Crowley there to support him, to do the things a best friend should be there to do. And, well, if Crowley needed him too, if he had to subsume his own pain to focus on making Aziraphale happy, that was something he could bear quietly. He could do it for his angel. Crowley groaned and dropped his head against the tiled wall of the shower. His angel. He had to stop thinking of him like that.

Maybe Next Christmas by @flamingbentleyy (21k, T)

Airports were tricky business, but waiting in airports was as close to hell as one could possibly get. Nobody knew it better than Aziraphale, whose luck had made him end up in one right on Christmas Eve of all days. Although his airport experience turned a little less hellish and a whole lot more entertaining after he ran into an old college friend in that same airport. And then again. And again…

The Small Ad by @theladydrgn, @sylwritesstuff (32k, E)

WORK WANTED: Partner For Hire. Tall, lanky ginger of arguable gender available to be your significant other to keep pesky relatives, nosy coworkers, or well-meaning friends at bay. Able to be as annoying or as polite as you like. Causing a fight over Christmas dinner with your odd, bigoted uncle/aunt/cousin will require an extra £200 up front. £50 for the first hour, negotiable otherwise. Ciao.   It isn't the sort of advertisement Aziraphale usually paid any attention to, but desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures.

Heavenly Wicked Cafe by @waitingtobebroken (33k, T)

There is a terribly rude barista that makes amazing coffee and a saint of a barista, whose coffee tastes vile. And they are in love.

Petrichor & Parchment by @katnoggin (33k, E)

“Mr. Crowley, I presume?” Aziraphale asked in lieu of an introduction, which was not forthcoming. The guy hadn’t even removed his sunglasses. Oh God, he had a tattoo on his face. Aziraphale wasn’t one to judge, but… what kind of gardener had a snake tattoo on his face? Now also available as a podfic from Literarion  [Huuuge recommendation for the podfic!!]

The Heart of the Forest by Kalimyre (33k, E)

Retired librarian Aziraphale moves into a small, isolated cottage deep in the forest with a strange history. He soon realises he's not alone in the woods; a presence watches him. But as he begins to befriend the stranger that lurks in the trees, Aziraphale comes to understand there's more to him than appearances suggest - and Aziraphale's own destiny may be tied to the mysterious creature with the golden eyes.

in your own time by @ineffabildaddy (33k, E)

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Between Comfort And Chaos by anathxmadevice (45k, T)

“And how long have you two been a couple?” “Oh, I—” Aziraphale panics. “Ha, well, that’s a funny… We’re not actually—” “We’re just friends.” Crowley says, their voice clear and calm and lightly amused, either because of or in spite of Aziraphale’s flailing attempts to divert the conversation. “Ah, yes, quite.” Aziraphale says, then takes a sip of his drink just for something to do, instead of focussing on the way Crowley said just friends, and how it causes a painful throb in his chest that he has never fully got used to. His memory can only scrabble at the edge of a time where being just friends with Crowley didn’t feel like a particular form of torture. * Or, Aziraphale has been desperately in love with his best friend and housemate Crowley since they were students, but is too scared to do anything about it.

Loving You Slow by @tawnyontumblr (46k, E)

Crowley just wants to dance, but he's not prepared to sell his soul (and other things) at Mayfair's Hellfire Club to do it. Tending bar at The Bookshop in Soho is just the escape he needs, providing Crowley can convince the club’s owner he really belongs on the stage. Unfortunately Aziraphale Eastgate is not quite the generous guardian angel Crowley has been led to believe. Welcome to The Bookshop, where it always pays to look under the covers.

A Billion Points of Light by akitsuko (50k, E)

The firefighter lifts the visor on their helmet, and Crowley may not be able to see very well, but those are the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen in his life. Crowley has never been one for the whole 'love at first sight' business, but he may need to reassess after Aziraphale - a gorgeous firefighter - saves his life.

More Than by @naromoreau (55k, E)

Crowley would like to spend another year without marrying, especially when thrust-forced to pick a husband. She refuses to cave in on a matter of principles. She refuses to cave in specifically on a matter of not wanting to be married to Lucien Morningstar. But she might need a hand to break free from such a burden. And who knows? She might even find something else along the way.

Lavender Apiary Of Your Honey Eyes by @snek-of-eden (66k, E)

The first thing Aziraphale registered was fiery red hair matted with sweat. The second thing was the man’s face, sharp and intelligent and a little guarded, sunlight dappling a spray of freckles. Upon seeing this, two contradictory thoughts crossed his mind: ‘Gosh, he’s pretty’, and ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a man use that many expletives in the space of a minute’. “Oh,” he said, swallowing hard. “Hello, then.” __________ When Aziraphale inherits a small, cosy cottage in the countryside, he finds unexpected company in a gardener he didn't even know he had. Crowley is sweet, and strange, and about as foul-mouthed as you can get. Before he knows it, he's falling pretty goddamn hard for a man whose friendship he's terrified of risking. Ah, the foils of love.

Old Vines by @sevdrag (189k, E)

A.Z. Fell, one of the most respected names in wine and food blogging, has been sent on assignment with his assistant Warlock Dowling to spend six months in California Wine Country. Under direction (by his boss, Gabriel) to use this experience to double his blog followers and write a novel, Aziraphale is both excited and anxious about the opportunity. Anthony J. Crowley is the owner and viticulturalist of Ecdyses, a winery that unexpectedly fell into his lap eleven years ago when he hit rock bottom. He may be in debt, yeah, but he’s paying off his loans — and despite pressure from his lenders and their team of inspectors, Crowley has found a kind of contentment tending his little corner of terroir and producing extraordinary wine. Crowley’s old vines are the heart of his vineyard, and he’s never let anyone in. Crowley finds Aziraphale intriguing; Aziraphale finds Crowley enthralling. Turns out a famous wine expert and an experienced viticulturalist can still learn things from each other. The summer of 2019 unfolds. [Big recommendation for the podfic here too!!]

[algebraic-dumbass]

You seem to like Lockhart's Lament, and I really don't get it. Besides being (intentionally?) pretentious, I feel like it massively misrepresents what mathematicians actually do. We spend most of our time doing creative problem solving, working towards some fixed external goal. Not creative design, where the end goal is up to our own whims.

To take an example I've seen quoted, but fine particularly egregious: "A piece of mathematics is like a poem, and we can ask if it satisfies our aesthetic criteria: Is this argument sound? Does it make sense? Is it simple and elegant? Does it get me closer to the heart of the matter?" This is a massive false equivalence!! The first two are factual statements, either the argument is sound or not!! Yeah there's an element of communication which is more subjective, but comparing the soundness of an argument to its elegance completely lost my respect for him.

I mean, I like Lockhart's Lament because I find it explains very well what math actually is as opposed to what people who only did math without proofs (i.e. most people who quit math after highschool, in my experience) believe math is. Now I do agree with you that it is pretentious, and probably intentionally. Now, the full paragraph of what you quoted is

And I haven’t even mentioned the lack of mathematical criticism in school. At no time are students let in on the secret that mathematics, like any literature, is created by human beings for their own amusement; that works of mathematics are subject to critical appraisal; that one can have and develop mathematical taste. A piece of mathematics is like a poem, and we can ask if it satisfies our aesthetic criteria: Is this argument sound? Does it make sense? Is it simple and elegant? Does it get me closer to the heart of the matter? Of course there’s no criticism going on in school— there’s no art being done to criticize!

I think what Lockhart might be meaning here (or at least, that's how I interpreted it when I read it) is that students in school never get to experience what it is to "have an opinion" (broadly) about a piece of mathematics. I think that under the word "criticism", Lockhart lumps in "checking the soundness of an argument" and more subjective matters such as "is the argument elegant?". Both types of reflections on an argument are a part of a mathematician's work, though I do agree with you that putting soundness on the same level as elegance is misguided at best.

However, I don't think it's fair to throw away the whole thing because of one comparison. I believe this because I mostly see it as a convenient piece of writing to point to so people who have a highschool understanding of what math is can get a slightly better idea. Though it is rare for me these days, from what I remember from when I talked with non-math people about math is that they believe it is a set of predefined rules, and are often baffled you can even do research in it. For these people, Lockhart's Lament would be at least helpful. This is why I link it on my posts, obviously to anyone actually familiar to math it has little value, but I expect some non-math people to maybe stumble upon it.

As for the "misrepresentation" part, I don't know. I will concede I have not yet done actual research so maybe I still have a flawed understanding of how it happens. I will say I especially like the example of the triangle in the box as it (in my opinion) clearly demonstrates how (1) you do think about an abstract problem of your choice and (2) you solve it, not by pure creativity, but with some creativity and problem-solving involved. In fact Lockhart even says

On the other hand, once you have made your choices ([...]) then your new creations do what they do, whether you like it or not. This is the amazing thing about making imaginary patterns: they talk back! The triangle takes up a certain amount of its box, and I don’t have any control over what that amount is. There is a number out there, maybe it’s two-thirds, maybe it isn’t, but I don’t get to say what it is. I have to find out what it is.

This I think clearly underlines that mathematics is not creative design. The metaphor is useful to rid people of their preconcieved ideas of what math is and I believe that's why Lockhart uses it.

Again maybe I just have a very flawed understanding of what research is. What do i know. I'm just an algebraic-dumbass

(By all means if you have a better piece of writing I can reference to do the whole explaining-of-what-math-actually-is for me, do tell! I would be very happy to have other things to point to!)

[charcubed]

"GAY WEEK" ON DOCTOR ODYSSEY REVIEW: not the episode I expected, but the episode I fucking deserved

A lesser show would use Gay Week to introduce queer content and possibly have it for only one episode as a special. But on this show? It’s always queer and the function of Gay Week is showing and explicitly talking about polyamory the entire time, setting up a polyamory slow burn.

WHO is doing it like them, I ask of you?

I am locked the fuck in for the long haul, baby!!!!! (as if that's news)

YIPPPEEEE

----

okay here I'm (mostly) copying and pasting some of my live tweets to share my immediate thoughts on the ep

-TRISTAN ENJOYING ALL THE ATTENTION FROM GAY MEN…. 👁👁 I love this bisexual

-“Polyamory” / “Throuple” / “That deep human condition question… Can all of my needs be met by one person?” We are literally watching a show on network television that’s explicitly about slow burn polyamory and I am in complete and utter disbelief. This is the thesis statement. They just went out and said that shit

-No but seriously they managed to have the throuple do an explicit threeway and NOW they're turning it into a slow burn?? WONDERFUL FOR ME PERSONALLY. LET'S GET THIS ANGST

-Max: “I’m a one woman” kind of man Tristan: “Aves… I can’t share you" Avery, lowkey: why are you both so fucking stupid and making this only about me when we have potential here because ALL of us want each other equally, including you two????

-No but this is so realistic I'm foaming at the mouth. OF COURSE they're getting caught up in the M/M part of it!! Of course they are!!! Of course that potentiality has to be drawn out!!! DELIGHTFUL

-TRISTAN’S FINGER KISS OVER THE SHOT OF MAX. IF ANYONE NEEDS ME I’LL BE PASSING AWAY.

-Anyway. “I’m a one woman” type of man Max said...... well guess what Max, that’s still true because you’ll have one woman and one boyfriend. Problem solved, king <3

-Also, if I think about how Max "I need to chase more joy" Bankman and Tristan "I have too much affection in me" Silva both reacted to having SO much happiness in one evening that they got scared by it and felt it was too good to be true I will start screaming.

-Hey so we all agree that the function of the single “heterosexual” couple on the ship is so we could get the visuals of 2 queer men standing in the background watching while the woman gave birth right. Like as thematically connected to Max’s excuses. We collectively saw that, right? Just checking

-Regarding the preview for next week: LOL. NO WAY IS AVERY ACTUALLY PREGNANT. I don’t know how or why but I’m calling bullshit, respectfully…. there’s gonna be some niche medical explanation for this tomfoolery and it’s going to force emotional angst

I FEEL LIKE I HALLUCINATED THIS EPISODE

THIS IS THE SHOW AND TRIO I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO HAVE AND CAN'T BELIEVE EXISTS

Captain Massey you sweet, kind, and accepting old man I love yoouuuu... John Stamos in a throuple I love yooouuu.... writers and directors and creative team behind this queer polyamory show making very deliberate phrasing and framing choices I love yooouuu... <3333

[insomniac4000]

George Clarke was not your average gym-goer. Sure, he showed up four times a week, right on schedule, but it wasn’t because he was obsessed with bulking up or shredding down. That was just a bonus, the gym was more of a sanctuary for George—a place where he could clear his mind, focus on something tangible, and take a break from the relentless cycle of creating content.

Life as a TikTok and Youtube star had its perks, of course. George loved the excitement, the creativity, and most of all, the connection he felt with his fans. But there was an intensity to it that sometimes left him feeling drained. That’s why he cherished his time at the gym. Here, among the rows of dumbbells and treadmills, he could just be George, a guy trying to stay in shape and enjoy his workouts.

He had his routine down to a science. Mondays were for chest and triceps, Tuesdays for back and biceps, Thursdays for legs, and Fridays for shoulders and abs. He’d plug in his earbuds, crank up his favourite playlist, and get to work. The repetition was comforting, and over time, he’d come to recognize the regulars the same faces appearing day after day, each of them absorbed in their own world.

One face, however, had started to catch his eye more than the others.

She was new, or at least new to George. He first noticed her one chilly November morning, about three months ago. She had wandered into the gym with an air of confidence that suggested she wasn’t a beginner, but George had never seen her before. Dressed in sleek black leggings and a simple tank top, her hair tied back in a high ponytail, she moved through her routine with a focus that George admired. She was strong, no doubt about that. He watched as she effortlessly hoisted weights feeling comfortable while doing so and was engrossed in her routine, not bothered about anyone else at the gym, just like George.

It wasn’t just her strength that caught George’s attention. It was her smile, which she offered to the staff at the front desk as she checked in each morning. It was the way she seemed to tune out the rest of the world when she was lifting or on the treadmill, completely immersed in the moment. It was the way she caught him looking once, their eyes meeting for a split second before she looked away, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

George didn’t know her name. She didn’t seem to be on social media, or if she was, he hadn’t been able to find her. But there was something about her that intrigued him, a mystery that he wanted to solve. He started timing his workouts to coincide with hers, subtly shifting his schedule so that he’d be there when she was. He didn’t want to come off as creepy or overly interested, but he couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to her in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

It was a rainy Thursday afternoon when fate finally intervened. George had just finished his third set of squats and was about to move on to lunges when he noticed her struggling with the leg press machine. She had loaded the plates onto the machine but seemed to be having trouble with the lever that locked it into place.

Without thinking, George walked over. “Hey, do you need some help with that?”

She looked up, surprised, and George felt his heart skip a beat. Her eyes were a deep, warm brown, and up close, he could see the faint freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. She was even more beautiful than he had realised, George often joked he was incapable of speaking to women and he could feel his heart thumping as the adrenaline flowed through him.

“Um, yeah, actually,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “I think this thing is stuck.”

George leaned down and gave the lever a firm tug. It clicked into place easily, and he stepped back with a grin. “There you go. All set.”

She smiled, a little sheepishly. “Thanks. I’m usually fine with this stuff, but today it just wasn’t cooperating.”

“No problem,” George said. He was about to walk away when she spoke again.

“I’m Emily, by the way.”

He turned back, surprised. “George,” he said, holding out his hand.

She took it, and for a brief moment, George felt a spark of something more than just a handshake. “Nice to meet you, George,” Emily said, her smile widening.

“Likewise,” George replied, feeling a little awkward but thrilled all the same. “Do you come here often?” He then mentally kicked himself for asking such a stupid question.

Emily chuckled. “Sounds like a line, but yes, I try to come most days. You?”

“Yeah, same here. It’s kind of my escape, you know?”

“I totally get that,” she said, her expression softening. “I work in marketing, and sometimes I just need to get out of my head. The gym helps.”

“Same,” George said, though he didn’t elaborate on his career. Most people either knew who he was or they didn’t, and he found it refreshing when they didn’t.

They talked a bit longer, mostly about their favourite workouts and the best times to hit the gym when it wasn’t crowded. It was a light, easy conversation, and when they finally parted ways, George felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his workout.

Over the next few weeks, George and Emily started to see more of each other at the gym. They’d exchange smiles or brief conversations between sets, and gradually, those moments turned into longer chats. George learned that Emily had moved to the city a few months ago for a new job, which explained why he hadn’t seen her before. She was originally from a small town up north, and she missed the quiet but was enjoying the excitement of the city.

“I didn’t know anyone here at first,” Emily confessed one day as they were cooling down after a workout. “But the gym kind of became my place, you know? It’s nice to see familiar faces, even if we don’t always talk.”

George nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. “Yeah, I felt the same way when I first moved here. The gym was where I found my rhythm. Plus my housemates are idiots so it's good to get away,” he joked.

They started meeting up outside the gym, too. It started innocently enough coffee after a workout, a smoothie on the way home. But soon, George found himself looking forward to those moments with Emily as much as he did his actual workouts. She was easy to talk to, funny, and grounded in a way that George found incredibly appealing.

And she didn’t seem to know who he was.

This was perhaps the most surprising thing of all. George was so used to being recognized everywhere he went, his online persona preceding him. But Emily seemed blissfully unaware of his TikTok fame. She treated him like just another guy, a guy she was getting to know, not a social media star.

It was a breath of fresh air.

It was a crisp winter evening when things began to change. George and Emily had just finished a particularly grueling workout as George was now training for a race for charity and were walking out of the gym together, their breath forming small clouds in the cold air.

“Want to grab dinner?” George asked, trying to keep his tone casual. “There’s this great Thai place just down the street.”

Emily hesitated for a moment, and George felt his heart drop. But then she smiled. “Sure, that sounds great.”

Dinner was wonderful, full of laughter and easy conversation. George found himself opening up to Emily in a way he hadn’t with anyone in a long time. He told her about his life, his family, and his love for creating content, though he still didn’t mention the extent of his online presence. Emily talked about her work, her friends back home, and her dreams of traveling the world someday.

As they walked back to their cars, George felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. This wasn’t just a casual friendship anymore—at least, not for him. He was falling for her, hard and fast, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“So, Emily,” he began, his voice a little shaky. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Emily looked up at him, her expression curious. “What is it?”

George took a deep breath. “I—well, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks. And I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think I’m starting to like you. A lot.” There was a pause, and for a moment, George’s heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he thought she might hear it. But then Emily smiled, and George felt a wave of relief.

“I like you too, George,” she said softly. “I was hoping you’d say something, because I’ve been feeling the same way.”

George couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Really? That’s—that’s amazing.”

“But,” Emily continued, a hint of uncertainty in her voice, “there’s something I should tell you too.”

George’s smile faltered. “What is it?”

Emily took a deep breath, just as he had done moments before. “I know who you are, George. I’ve known for a while now. My friends sent me your TikToks ages ago, and I recognized you the first day I saw you at the gym.”

George was stunned into silence. “You—you knew?”

Emily nodded, her eyes searching his for a reaction. “I didn’t say anything because, honestly, I just wanted to get to know you as you. Not as ‘George Clarkeey, the guy on TikTok.’ And I’m glad I did, because the George I’ve gotten to know is incredible.”

George felt a rush of emotions—relief, happiness, and something else, something deeper. He reached out and took Emily’s hand, squeezing it gently.

“Thank you for that, Emily. It means more to me than you know. I wanted to be just me around you too, not the guy everyone sees online.”

"I think I would have been drawn to you anyway, famous or not because no one can resist you doing a squat," Emily giggled.

They stood there for a moment, the world around them fading away as they looked at each other. It felt like the start of something real, something that went beyond the likes and comments of the digital world. George had found someone who saw him for who he truly was, and that was worth more than all the fame in the world.

The days that followed were a blur of excitement for George. His relationship with Emily grew stronger with each passing day. They started spending more time together, not just at the gym but outside of it too. They explored the city, tried out new restaurants, and even spent quiet evenings at George’s place, where they could just be themselves.

For the first time in a long time, George felt truly content. He still loved making content and connecting with his fans, but now he had something—or rather, someone—who made his offline life just as fulfilling. Emily was becoming his confidante, his support system, and more importantly, his partner.

One evening, as they were watching a movie on George’s couch, Emily turned to him, a playful smile on her lips. “So, when do I get to make a cameo in one of your TikToks?”

George laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Whenever you want. But only if you’re sure you’re ready for the spotlight.”

“I think I can handle it,” she teased, snuggling closer to him. “But no pressure. I’m happy just being part of your real life.”

George kissed the top of her head, feeling a warmth spread through him. “You’re already the best part of it.”

And as they sat there, wrapped up in each other, George realized just how lucky he was. He had found something rare and beautiful—something that made all the hard work, all the late nights and early mornings, completely worth it.

He had found love, not in the flashy world of social media, but in the quiet, unassuming moments of real life. And he knew that, no matter what the future held, he and Emily would face it together, one set at a time.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 17 🍒

"What is and What Should Never Be"

pre-outbreak! au!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 5,924

Summary: Reconnecting with Joel is easy, but things take a turn when you spot a man you never thought you'd see again.

(Warnings contain spoilers, so check beneath the cut if you dare to peek)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18-19, Joel is 35-36), set in September 2003, angst, family drama, drunk dialing, phone sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v sex, alcohol drinking (only Joel), reader runs into her estranged father who now has a new family, Joel once again using his fists to solve problems which gets him arrested, mentions of blood and gore after a fight (later mention of broken nose and needing stitches), Joel's guilt causes him to break up with you once and for all, reader refuses to take care of herself as a self-inflicted punishment, no use of y/n (if I've left anything out please let me know)

Author's note: this took forever to write because honestly a big part of me didn't want to do it. Thank you for sticking with me, those of you who have been reading from the start!

Series Masterlist

"Stay."

That word haunts you, so varied in its meaning. Stay of execution. Please stay for lunch. You chose to stay with your mom despite the fact that Joel asked you to stay with him in Austin.

It's the first thing you think about when you wake up each morning. That stupid word, haunting you like a specter. And there's that little voice in the back of your head that taunts: 'You could be with him right now, waking up next to him, the warmth of his arms enveloping you as he nuzzles your neck, rousing you with a firm morning hard-on before you have to get up to go your separate ways for the day.'

Then you remember the reason you left him in the first place. It makes you sick to your stomach to think that everything he'd done with you had only been a repeat session of what he'd done with your mom. Who, by the way, has fussed over you since you moved back in. You took a pregnancy test at her behest, giving a silent sigh of relief when the results read negative.

She hounded you for details, of which you gave her none. Her jealousy was disgusting to you, and pitiable. And though you shared a man with this woman, unknowingly, the only difference was you'd given your heart and she had not.

You walk on eggshells around her for the first few days, unsure how to navigate this new territory. You're not sure how to move on from here, unwilling to address what happened yet desperately wanting a sounding board. You can't talk to the problem about the problem. You feel like a prisoner in your own home, deprived of the love you should have been given years ago that instead has become suspicion and doubt. You weren't even allowed to attend your friend's wedding because your mom thought it was in bad taste to attend a ceremony for such a young couple. Even though she herself got married younger.

Meanwhile your phone stays quiet, no calls or texts from Joel, but Sofia is kind enough to give you details. Unfortunately it's quiet on their end. She's still with Tommy, having finally succumbed to being in a relationship despite her initial misgivings. She only sees Joel now and then, and he smiles hello or good evening to her, but that's it. Sarah has been hanging out with new friends and seems happy.

Your stomach twists in knots at Sarah's deceptiveness. You can't help but wonder if Joel knows, if they're on speaking terms, but it's awful to wish that on a kid. If it came between your father and your friend, you might choose the same course she did.

By Labor Day you have your schedule to keep you busy: early British literature at nine, creative writing at noon, and a few other non-major related classes just to keep you from having to think too much on things you don't have a handle on.

At your new university you run into a few friends from school, people who either didn't want to leave home for the adventure of a lifetime, or couldn't get into the more prestigious schools in the state. It's still a good school, just not the one you wanted.

It was embarrassing having to tie up loose ends in Austin, calling Hailey at the cafe and telling her that you've moved, keeping in touch with friends only through texts, with meager promises to meet up soon, make a road trip out of it. You're not naive enough to actually believe any of it, but it's nice to come away from the situation with a little bit of kindness.

Your mom tries to get you to go over with her to her family's Labor Day cookout, but celebration is the last thing on your mind, least of all with her. You stay home alone, reminding her there's no way you can get up to any trouble. She's flattened out whatever spirit was left in you and she knows it but won't admit it.

With the house to yourself, you study in the living room, the TV tuned in to a rerun of NYPD Blue. Your short story that's due this week sits abandoned, half-written as your attention drifts to the screen, watching the cops interrogate a cute goth guy named Dio.

Your cell phone rings, bringing you out of your daydream. Sofia's name shines on the caller ID.

"Hey, cous. What's up?" you lean back on the sofa, a can of Vanilla Coke at your lips.

"Hey there.. babygirl," Joel's voice murmurs over the line. You sit up straight.

"Joel.." you repeat dumbly, in shock. "What.." your mind goes blank.

He chuckles on the other end of the line, and you feel a warmth in the pit of your stomach when he mutters your name. "God damn it I miss ya," he slurs.

"Are you drunk?"

"Naw, baby.. well a little." Wherever he is you can hear Tommy in the background, and Sofia demanding her phone back.

"Came out tonight and thought about ya.. ain't heard from ya and I missed your voice."

"Oh, Joel.." you sigh, different emotions warring within you. "I don't think that I should be talking to you.."

"Cherry!" Tommy's ebullient, voice comes over the line now. "Cherry, Joel misses you! He's been cryin'! There ain't no other woman for him 'cept you!"

Tommy's words become unintelligible. There's a jostling sound and soon Sofia's on the phone. "Sorry about that.. I guess the Miller boys are a little out of control tonight," she says, forcing a laugh. "Joel asked to use my phone but I didn't know he was gonna use it to call you." It sounds like Sofia's outside, away from the blare of the music and sounds of drunkenness.

"It's all right.. how is he?"

"I think he's lonely," she answers. "It was supposed to be just me and Tommy out tonight, but Joel invited himself along as a third wheel. Tommy says you broke his brother's heart," she adds softly.

You shake your head. "Sofia, you were there. You know the truth now. How can I forgive him for hiding so much from me?"

"I can't speak for him, but I will say that we all make mistakes. He's only human."

You sigh, plopping yourself on the sofa after pacing the room. "What should I do?"

"You care about him, right?"

"Of course."

"Maybe just hear him out. Then you can decide what your next step should be."

"Tell him to call me when he's sober."

She chuckles. "No guarantees he won't try tonight."

Joel calls the next day, and you call him the next night, with sporadic texting in between. You're treading carefully, talking about mundane things until it feels okay enough to talk about what happened between you.

He tells you the same story as your mother, and you steel yourself listening to the man you love talk about the life he had before he met you. He doesn't leave out the parts about other women, how he tried to cover his broken heart instead of facing it head on and healing it, how he lost the best friend he'd ever had over a woman who didn't care for him.

"She doesn't love you," you whisper into your phone one night, tucked under the duvet so that you won't be overheard by your mom. "She never did.. but I still do."

It's this revelation that brings you together, has you calling each other "babe" and "love" all over again. Before the end of your first week reconciling you're already whispering filthy things to him over long phone calls, your hands drifting over your body, excited to come for him as he growls his commands over the line, there you go, babygirl, just like that, come on your fingers.. now suck them off, I wanna hear it and you do come for him, knowing there can never be anyone else for you, no matter what.

"I'm comin' to see ya," he tells you one morning as he's heading to work and you're in the university parking lot.

"Joel, you can't-"

"Then come here."

"Three hours away? Four or five with traffic? You're crazy. Mom would come looking for me."

"Then let's meet in the middle."

You consider this. "What's the halfway point between Houston and Austin?"

"There's Brenham," he suggests.

"I've never been there." You toy with the cherry scented air freshener hanging from your rear view mirror. "Could we tour the Blue Bell factory?"

"That we can.. among other things." You can hear the suggestive smile in his voice.

You make the excuse that you have to do extra credit at another campus and are able to get away for the weekend. The drive is over an hour long, and your heart feels like it may just hammer its way out of your chest cavity the entire time. It hasn't really been that long since you've seen Joel, and just as you pass through Cypress you wonder if it's a good idea after all. But your heart is young and easily swayed to the will of your fantasies, among them being that you and Joel are meant to be, just a pair of star-crossed lovers who will find their way together again, beyond the chains of society dragging them down.

You reach the small diner in Brenham, taking a deep breath before you leave the car, then another before you open the door to the restaurant.

And there he is, in a booth in the corner. Your heart skips a beat before it lodges in your throat.

It's only been a few weeks since you've seen him but in that moment you swear it's been an eternity.

It's like a movie in slow motion: Joel rises from his seat as you near him, and without hesitation you go into his open arms, which wrap lovingly around you. The world stops for a brief, beautiful moment.

There's not much to catch up on, you soon find out. It's barely been a few weeks since you've seen him. Everything is the same as when you left, only everything has also changed.

"I can't stop thinking about you, about the way we left things," he says urgently, under the sad and lonely twang of the steel guitar from whatever old country song the diner's jukebox is playing. "But you said you need to figure things out, so I'm givin' you that space you need," he says.

His hands clasp yours across the table, between the half-eaten plates of food you've neglected in favor of discussion. "I meant what I said, babygirl.. I can't see myself with anyone else."

Your heart clenches at the thought, even as the rational part of your brain tells you it's impossible, that you experienced the strongest pull of attraction with a man old enough to be your father, and you both let your emotions get the best of you.

It dawns on you that you've only known him for three months.

It also dawns on you that you only have this one life, this one chance to be happy at all, especially now that you're under your mother's roof again, no escape in sight until you graduate and land a job. Right now, in this slice of a moment, you have complete and total freedom from things you don't want to belong to.

"Joel.." you whisper, and he clasps his hands tighter around yours. "Let's get out of here."

There's a motel across the street, the kind that serves wayfarers and illicit lovers, of which you and Joel are both.

Your fingers are intertwined as he pays at the front desk, and his arm is slung around you as you walk up to your allotted room. The moment the door closes behind you, Joel's self-control snaps like a broken guitar string. He surges towards you, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you into a passionate kiss, his lips melding with yours in a desperate collision of desire and need.

You kiss him back, desperately tasting his mouth, molding your body to his in a frantic need for him. His hands travel down your body, rough palms roaming over your curves. His tongue slides into your mouth as he pulls you close, his muscular frame crowding you.

"Yes," you whisper in between fiery kisses. This is the only thing that feels right, the only thing I want in the entire world. You lift your shirt over your head, shove your shorts down your legs before your hand teasingly slips down the front of his jeans, rubbing him through his boxers. A low, guttural sound rumbles in his throat as he presses his hips forward into your touch.

"All for me?" you ask, wrapping your hand around his generous length, your cunt already feeling its velvety thickness inside you.

Joel nods, his muscles tensing as your touch ignites a fire within him. "Only for you," he whispers, voice rough with desire. "I think about you all the time, in places I shouldn't," his breath shudders as you fall to your knees, pulling his jeans down the rest of the way and immediately taking him into your mouth.

"Like where?" you ask, keeping your eyes on him as you swirl your tongue around his cock, itching for him to take you then and there, but you've waited so long and pined so hard that a little teasing is in order.

His thick fingers card through your hair, gathering the length in a ponytail to gently guide you down on his cock. "In my truck, in the shower, in bed.." he grunts as your mouth envelops what it can of him, and he's careful not to push in and have you choke on his dick like he wants to. "Sometimes I even catch myself thinkin' about you while I'm workin'. You're dangerous, babygirl."

A thrill goes through you, an electric shock straight to your senses when you hear this. "And what do you think about?" you ask, pumping him with your hand.

Joel puts his hand over yours, stilling it, not wanting to risk that he's gonna explode after a couple of strokes, like some damn high school kid. "Everything, darlin'.. I think about every part of you: how good you smell, how good you taste, how damn perfect you are. I think about how I want to devour you, take you as mine and never let go."

"Don't let go of me again, Joel.. promise me," you say as he rises you to your feet, pressing your body flush to his, able to feel every contour, the hard parts of him that you dream about on a nightly basis.

His arms tighten around you, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and regret as he watches your reflections in the dresser mirror. "I won't, baby, I promise." His words are both a vow and a prayer. "I won't let go of you ever again."

His hand glides up your back, his fingers tracing the ridges of your spine. "I've missed you like crazy.." his deep voice is filled with need. "Missed touchin' and holdin' you like this."

"No one has to know what it's like between us," you sigh as his touch ignites your senses. For all intents and purposes, no one knows that you're here, and once again you're a secret.

"No one," he agrees, bringing you to the bed. "Just me and you. No one else has to know, because this?" He slips his hands down your panties, making you gasp, and he growls in return to feel you warm and wet, welcoming. "This is ours, no one else's."

In no time at all you're sprawled on the bed, panties and bra discarded on the motel carpet. Joel's between your legs, pressing a teasing kiss to your mound, his fingers circling your entrance. As you writhe and moan beneath his touch, his tongue darts out to taste you. "So responsive.." his breath his hot against you as he pushes a finger inside.

A needful groan leaves your lips. You haven't been able to match this intensity with just your own fingers since you left him. "Don't stop," you beg. His breath stutters at your pleas, devoting himself to bringing you pleasure. His fingers and tongue work in tandem, stroking and caressing you from within and without. He wants nothing more than to draw out every sound you can possibly make.

"You taste like heaven, babygirl," his voice is rough and heated. "So damn good. I could do this all day, just for those beautiful moans."

Joel watches as you come apart beneath him, your body arching under the onslaught of pleasure he's given you, and his heart swells with desire. "That's my girl," he whispers. "Just beautiful."

You're left trembling, a complete puddle when he's done with you, and you've never been more satisfied in your life. "God, I missed that.."

He kisses his way up your body, leaving a trail of soft, tender kisses along your soft skin until he reaches your lips. When he gazes at you, his eyes burn with love and lust. "I missed it too," he says. "Missed touchin' you like this, hearin' you say my name, seein' you all flushed and breathin' hard. Drove me crazy not havin' you near."

And then he's inside you, burying himself to the hilt, fucking you like it's the last time he ever will. It's like he's twenty years younger, on the verge of coming within minutes, until he shifts you into different positions to stave off the need to cum, not satisfied to help himself to his own pleasure until you're too weak to mumble your own name.

You lose track of all time, lost in the feel of him as he fucks you hard, then softer, desperately, and as if he has all the time in the world. It's a blur of sweat and sighs and tangled limbs for the rest of the afternoon.

The next few weekends are spent in this way: meeting at the motel at the halfway point between your city and his, holing up in the room and only leaving to get food.

"I wanna be with you forever.." Joel slowly kisses his way down your body. The sun is setting, casting a golden hour glow in the room, and you're both resting atop the rumpled sheets and strewn pillows.

"Forever?" you repeat with a love-drunk smile.

"Forever baby," he reiterates. "I don't want a life without you in it," he whispers as he makes his way even lower.

You sigh his name sweetly. "Maybe after I finish college I'll find a place in Austin."

"Really? You'd move to Austin to be with me?" He situates himself between your thighs, a thousand kilawatt smile on his face.

"Yeah.. I actually really like it there.."

"I'd love it if you were closer to me," he sighs. "Plus payin' for these rooms is gettin' damn expensive." He pauses. "Nothin's stoppin' you from comin' back sooner, y'know.."

You search his eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, the love that has drawn you in since the very beginning. "I'll finish out this semester and we'll talk about it," you tell him, delighted when his eyes light up at the prospect of having you with him again.

"You could stay with me.. for good.. forever.." he says, kissing down your body with each word.

You lay naked in his arms, satisfied, yet always aching for him in your heart and in your soul. "Forever sounds so good with you," you murmur, your voice a little hoarse from giving screams of pleasure earlier.

The following week is your shared birthday, and though Joel is less enthusiastic about turning a year older, he loves seeing how caught up you get in planning a little getaway for the both of you. San Antonio is as safe a place as any, and not likely to be too crowded this time of year.

The first night, your birthday night, is spent traversing the colorful Riverwalk, romantically lit, placid, even among the neon signs of the shops, bars, and restaurants. You choose a place to have dinner, sitting on the patio and enjoying the mild September weather.

"How does it feel to be thirty-six?" you ask, watching him with hearts in your eyes as you rest your chin on your hand.

"Same," he shakes his head. "How's it feel to be nineteen?"

"Amazing," you smirk.

"Youth is wasted on the young."

"I see you finally got your watch fixed," you smile, tapping the glass face.

"That.. yeah, Sarah got it fixed for me, gave it to me as a present before I left."

The mention of her still makes your stomach drop and you go quiet.

"She misses you," he says. "Been talkin' about you a lot lately. She wanted me to give you this."

"She knows you're here with me?"

Joel shrugs. "Word gets around. Maybe Tommy said somethin'.. either way, I'm not keepin' you a secret no more."

You plant a soft kiss on his lips before unwrapping the small jewelry box he gives you. Inside is the missing earring you thought you'd lost forever God knows where, probably in a nook or cranny of Joel's truck one hot night, but here it is, the mate to the one in your jewelry box at home.

"Give her my thanks," you tell him, wondering if he knows she's the one who tore them apart in the first place. Talking about it would just ruin the night, so you slip the box into your purse for later. "Looks like I'm getting back everything I ever thought I lost," you smile, holding his hands across the table.

When the music gets too loud to talk over, you write cute love notes on the napkins, reading them quickly before the condensation on the table, courtesy of Joel's beer, smears the ink.

After dinner you stroll along the river, arm in arm, and he leads you back to the hotel, thankfully within walking distance. Once inside your room you can't keep your hands off each other, taking advantage of the night, of the anonymity of being in a different city. The bed is bigger than the shitty motel in Brenham, the sheets are softer, and Joel takes the little piece of chocolate that housekeeping left on your pillow and places it in your mouth, as his lips travel down your body to get you worked up with your tongue. He's promised you a gift but he's saving it for the end of the weekend. Right now he'd drawled, you'll just have to be satisfied with me making you cum.

Joel's up earlier than you the next day. Not even his circadian rhythm goes on vacation. But he's left a note saying he's going out to get breakfast, not content with with having the continental breakfast the hotel serves. An intrusive thought pricks at your mind: maybe he just doesn't want to be seen with you at a hotel, even in front of strangers.

You shake that thought away, getting showered and dressed.

On the way to the front desk to check for messages, you hear a familiar voice as you turn the corner. A middle-aged man, average height, wearing a Hawaiian print shirt and cargo shorts, speaks with the morning concierge.

"..the couple in room 478 was very loud last night. They kept me and my family awake, and honestly that's not the kind of thing I want my young kids to hear.."

You realize you and Joel are the ones in 478 that he's complaining about, just before your breath hitches in your throat. Everything, in fact, seems to slow and still as you approach the desk, nearing the man making the complaint.

Dad..?

He leaves the desk before you can go up to him, only seeing him from the back as he goes in the opposite direction, on his way to the free hotel breakfast. Your feet don't allow you to follow him, mired as you are to the floor. The concierge addresses you three times before you hear her.

"Miss? Is there something I can help you with?"

You've completely forgotten what you came here for, and meager words form on your lips. "That man.. what's his name?"

She shakes her head. "I'm afraid I can't give that information."

"Well.. what room is he staying in?"

"Again, I can't give out that information, sweetie. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"..no.." you answer, voice barely a whisper, walking slowly back to your room.

"Somethin's on your mind," Joel says casually, watching you as he sips his ice cold beer. "I can tell. You tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, babygirl."

The sun is high overhead as you both enjoy lunch on the patio of one of the nicer restaurants in town. You'd initially balked at the priciness of the place, but Joel had insisted. You ate sparingly even though you were hungry. The breakfast tacos from that morning had only given you and Joel more energy to fuck a couple more times before you decided to walk around the city and get some fresh air.

"Nothing," you tell him, faking a smile. But you can't keep up the pretense for long. "Well.. I think I saw my father at the hotel this morning."

Joel puts his drink down, his gaze settling on you, the most serious you've seen him. "You think, or you know?"

You shake your head. "I'm pretty sure.."

He says nothing for a few moments. "Small world if he's here."

Breaking the tension, you tell him about the noise complaint that you're likely to receive once you get back to the hotel, and it earns you a little laugh from him, and pleasure warms your heart to see him blush.

It's later in the evening when you're strolling, enjoying the city as sunset takes over, gold and purple in the autumn sky.

"I'm thinking I wanna give you your birthday present tonight," he says, nodding as if he's just thought of it.

You're a little embarrassed that your own gift is so meager, whatever money your mother gives you going to gas for the car or lunch for the week.

"Spending this time with you has honestly been the best gift I could ask for," you tell him, grasping his hand in yours.

Your sighting this morning is all but forgotten as you and Joel return to the hotel, arm in arm. From the opposite direction comes the man you saw at reception earlier, in a different Hawaiian shirt this time, but he has his arm around a woman you've never seen before, who's pushing a stroller with young twins inside.

He catches your eye and you see that flash of recognition before he artfully conceals it, looking askance, hurrying his stride and whispering something to the woman he's with.

"Dad?" you call out, despite the part of you that wants to pretend it's not him, that the world is too big and too wide to be conceivable that you'd find him here after so many years.

He ignores you, casting his glance away as he hurries, his wife looking at him in confusion.

"Chris." Joel's voice booms louder than yours, catching your dad's attention. You feel invisible as the two men who haven't seen each other in almost two decades, former friends, practically brothers, reconnect.

But it's not as nice as it sounds.

There's history between them that you don't understand.

All you can see right now is your father, with another family, with absolutely no intention to ever speak to you again.

"Joel." Chris's voice is low, indifferent as you've always remembered it, with a hint of curiosity as his gaze flicks between you and him. And you see the last piece click in place as it registers; while his brain lights up his eyes go dark.

"You wanna tell me what you're doin' here with my daughter?" he moves towards the both of you, a charge in his steps as his purpose becomes clear. Joel stands his ground, shielding you.

"It ain't none of your concern, never was," Joel grunts his reply.

"The hell it ain't," Chris grunts back in Joel's face. You sneak a peek at the woman he's with, maybe five or six years older than yourself, eyes filled with worry as she tries to assess the situation, obviously too afraid to step in.

"Chris, come on," she begs, her accent showing she's not from these parts.

But the men are like animals, neither one is going to step down first.

"If you're doin' with her what I think you are, you're in some deep shit, pal," Chris warns.

"She's an adult and can make her own decisions. And you got no say in her life after leavin' it."

"She's my kid, man!"

It's the first time he's admitted this, and a small thrill of victory floods your veins, quickly thinned when Joel retorts:

"You got a problem with it, come see us in room 478. Oh, and we'll try to keep it down tonight," he smirks, knowing this comment will hit him where it hurts.

What happens next you'll review in your head over and over in the coming days.

Joel barely dodges Chris's punch, but the force of the swing creates a gust of air that grazes his face. He retaliates with a jab to Chris's ribs, landing with a dull thud.

"Dad!" you run towards him, fearing for his safety, knowing firsthand how Joel can switch on to violence in a heartbeat. In the midst of the chaos you try to intervene, grab your dad's shoulder to wrench him away. In his rage-filled instinct he shoves you back, the back of his hand connecting with your cheekbone.

In your daze you stumble back on your ass, hitting the pavement as Joel rams into Chris, knocking him to the ground too. The woman Chris is with starts screaming as Joel slams his fists repeatedly into Chris's face. The sickening crunch of fist meeting flesh, cartilage and bone makes your stomach churn, all your own pain forgotten in the melee of the brutality.

Panicked passersby call for help, try to stop the brawl, come and check on you, helping you to your feet. But all you see are the uniformed cops cuffing Joel after successfully breaking up the fight, leading him to a cruiser, and paramedics coming to your dad's rescue, assessing him. You go to him, hovering over your dad, glimpsing blood and gore before he's lifted onto a stretcher and taken into the back of an ambulance.

It's late, past two a.m. You're curled up in an uncomfortable chair at the hospital, waking with a crick in your neck.

Your dad's going to be okay, the doctor tells you. A broken nose, some stitches, nothing major.

You go in to see him, passing by his wife as she leaves, giving you a sidelong glance, measuring you up. It's not known if Chris has told her about you or not, and this is something you'll never know.

He's sleeping, his monitor beeping steadily. The room smells like disinfectant.

And it's at this point you realize you have nothing to say to him. Any questions that burned in the back of your brain are now ash. The man in front of you is a stranger and has been for years now. He's your father only in biology.

You take a good long look before leaving, at peace with cutting him off. Wondering, asking, waiting.. you don't have the patience for it and he doesn't have the honor to offer you answers. Even if he does, you don't care to hear them.

It's a small relief as you exit through the sliding doors and into the still September night. You'd alerted Tommy to what's happened, and he should be with Joel right about now. Your phone rings in your pocket. Joel's number.

"I'm on my way. Are you at the jail, or-"

"Listen to me, baby.. this ain't a good idea."

You turn cold. "What's not a good idea?"

He pauses for longer than you're comfortable with. "Us, baby.. I'm thinkin'-"

"No," you cut him off before he can say anything final. "No, Joel, you don't mean that."

You're in the car, racing through the late night streets, back to your hotel.

"Listen, Joel, we can talk about this."

You're in the backseat of Tommy's truck in the hotel parking garage. Tommy has gone inside to get Joel's things.

"Joel.."

"You're just a kid," he says softly. He's unharmed from the fight earlier, but he's been through just as much as you have in the past few hours.

"I'm not a fucking kid. Would you have done all those things with me if I was a kid?"

"You know what I mean. You're young, you don't know nothin' about life.. need someone your own age, someone who ain't gonna punch every man who looks at ya with judgmental eyes.. let's face it. I've hurt you by hurtin' others."

"Joel, I don't care about them."

"You're still a little girl at heart, y'know?" he murmurs, his voice taking on a vulnerability you haven't seen in him before. "When I got pulled away from the fight, you went straight to your daddy. I can't fault you for that. It's how it oughta be."

You shake your head. None of this feels real. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life," you whisper as tears trace down your cheeks.

He purposely keeps his eyes away from you, knowing he'll break if he doesn't put a stop to this soon. "I ain't blamin' ya for goin' to your dad instead of comin' to me, but it damn sure hurts, baby. The way ain't made clear for us yet. I can't say if it ever will be."

You grab hold of his hand but he slips away from your fingers in a soft, almost graceful move. "You promised you'd never let go of me again.." your voice is desperate, begging. "Joel, why are you doing this?"

"It's over," he says quietly.

Alone in the hotel room, Joel's side of the closet now bare, his toiletries gone, his side of the bed cold.

You've cried every tear in your body, cried so much you vomited. As punishment on yourself you refuse yourself the necessary water to feel better. If you had never spotted your dad or called out for him, you both could have ignored each other, and Joel would still be here. He would still love you. You don't deserve to feel better.

You comb through the drawers in search of anything that Tommy might have overlooked when he was packing, any little item that would give you an excuse to call him or see him again. You hold onto that tiny shred of hope like a dying ember.

You do a double take when you see an unfamiliar jewelry box among your things. Black velvet. It's not yours. Your heart palpitates at what it could be, yet a part of you already knows, is already in mourning for what was lost. You force yourself to be strong and open it.

Nestled within, on a bed of white satin, is an engagement ring.

dividers by @saradika-graphics & @enchanthings

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[the-timewatcher]

A disgruntled Tumblrina (gender-neutral) made a website and why you should too.

Or "reject social media, return to personal websites".

PART 1: THE PART WHERE I CONVINCE YOU TO MOVE TO PERSONAL WEBSITES

So, the Web 2.0 social media infested landscape seems to be crumbling before our very eyes. Reddit's leadership is increasingly greedy, Twitter is sinking under the weight of Elon's massive, yet increasingly fragile ego, Tumblr is slowly turning into another lifeless corpo-fest, complete with the layout, Instagram continues to be vapid and soulless and Facebook seems to be going the way of MySpace.

(feel free to check the alt text on these, btw)

In these troubling times, where everything looks the same and you're expected to be milked for every dollar you're worth, what is a disgruntled Internet surfer such as yourself to do? Move to an untested alternative that's bound to get overrun by fascists thanks to poor moderation? Stay the course on the sinking ships you're used to?

Well, what if I told you that we've solved this problem way back in the 90's and early 2000's and were merely duped by the Big Zuck into forgetting our legacy? What if there was a cure for the sanitized, dull social media hellscape?

It takes a bit of work, when compared to just using a social media site, but even if your particular use case makes switching difficult (ex. an artist looking to promote their work), it's still a good secondary option to consider.

The core appeal is the ability to customize and individualize, make a corner of cyberspace unabashedly yours,

It can also be an exciting avenue of creative expression, giving whatever you want to say a unique coat of paint,

Most website hosting services are a bit more lax about what you can do on them, due to changes in the profit structure (rather than depending on advertisers and investors, they either have a premium option to give supporters perks, have another product, or, in the case of paid services, you renting that space IS the product),

If you want your website to be more accomodating and accessible, you don't have to file tons of feedback - do it yourself,

If you'd like to connect with other webmasters and promote each other's websites, we have webrings - sets of circular links that connect websites with something in common, be it a topic, aesthetic or friend group,

You're less likely to have your stuff purged by an ill-advised change in policy (especially if you have a backup of your files somewhere),

The more people do it, the less power those massive social media corpos have over the internet,

It can be a load of fun!

If I have you convinced, keep reading into part 2. If you just wanna see what I did, skip to part 3. If neither, feel free to continue scrolling. I won't hold it against you. You'll be missing out, that's all.

PART 2: SO, YOU WANNA MAKE A WEBSITE!

Good choice, here's some resources!

sadgrl's absolute beginner's guide to Neocities - what it says on the tin!

W3Schools - a more in-depth tutorial site, a learning resource so excellent it substituted for what I was supposed to learn in technical highschool (because our teacher just told us to go on W3Schools instead of teaching us shit)

A list of free layouts for your website - whether to use as a base to learn from or to simply take for yourself,

Neocities - the posterchild for free website hosting for personal websites. Doesn't allow video or audio, but you can get around that by linking those files from elsewhere. Beginner-friendly to a fault - once you have an account just drag and drop your files in,

Gitlab (& Gitlab Pages) - a more advanced option, but it has a few advantages of its own. Gitlab is a website hoster second and a version control service first - which is programmer speak for "keeps track of changes in your code and stores a backup of it online". it helps a lot when working on multiple devices or co-writing with a friend. And secondly, you can use Gitlab Actions to automate putting your website up (even on Neocities, like I do!)

My askbox - I am not joking, if you have any questions about any of this, I'd love nothing more than to help you out!

But with most of my indie web propaganda out of the way, it's time.

PART 3: Welcome to Timewatcher OS.

Of course, because I couldn't be normal when it comes to making a website, I had to turn it into a fake operating system. Each subpage is an "app", opened in a separate embed window. It has unlockable wallpapers (no pay2win, prommy). There's bideo games on it! I even made a music player for it so I can share my incongruent music tastes!

Like I said in my Tumblr bio, if I ever go radio silent for more than a month, it means I've gotten fed up with this hellsite and moved to my own homepage permamently. And I highly advise you make an option like this for yourself too! Lastly, if any of y'all would like to start a webring, do let me know in the askbox - I'm down to manage it if I'm not alone in there.

Anyways, I hope I convinced you to make a website, or at least check out some of the cool sites you've been missing out on! Hope to see you on the Old Web!

[kayleightarot]

The week of May 26-30

My voice has returned so next week, I'll resume the video reads. Until then, here are a few cards from lesser used, but beautiful decks. Have a fab week!

We start the week with Energy, Purpose, Resolution.

The King of Wands is charismatic, confident, & inspiring. This worldly voice of knowledge gained through experience, resonates with adventurous, creative energy. The embodiment of natural leadership, gifted mediation, & masterful energetic focus.

Someone may bring these qualities to aid you in achieving or furthering your goals, or it speaks to a need to tap into your inner strength, ascend the issues, & let the lessons of the past, be your guide.

💚 At work, be open to the advice of those you trust – even if they are a little rough around the edges. An idea or creative project you fostered may bring a windfall 💚 If you're considering starting or growing your own business, this can be a sign that the time is ripe; research & plant the seeds 💙 If you feel a wave of gratitude & protectiveness for loved ones, take the time to tell them what they mean to you 🧡 However the ambitious & goal -oriented energy of this King appears, go with it. You have the support & the wherewithal to achieve, lead, or create. Think positively & dream big because fortune favours the bold

MIDWEEK calls on your Witty, Creative, Adventurous side

This Page represents the lively energy, passionate philosophy, & fearless adventurousness of youth. They are a person who is warm, ambitious, & loyal with a youthful love of learning. They will bring you news that inspires you and brings you joy. If you are the Page, succumb to her charismatic call; start a new project using your creativity, & enthusiasm.

💚 The job or project you have been waiting to hear about will likely be yours - & will be even more enjoyable than you initially thought. Finances may improve due to a good deed or some other form of positive energy you put into the world 💙 Abandon the things that prevent you from feeling vital & positive. This is a good time to reassess a problematic relationship; remind yourself of what you wanted from it, & boldly correct your course where necessary 🧡 This Page brings inspiration & positive energy. Believe in yourself, & your dreams, focus on your path, & move fearlessly ahead

We approach the WEEKEND with Honesty, Mental Discipline, & Flexibility

This card speaks to the growth of information. Whether that’s a comment that became a rumour, or a unique idea that’s taking root with others, being an open-minded fact-checker, will be key to your success. Be sure, before you react, or repeat.

Be flexible about any traditions or structure you have that may need to change to create space

💚 Check yourself over any friction at work. Even if you think you know all the facts, ask if there are mitigating details or new developments; the others involved will appreciate your openness & the space to be heard 💙 If relationships feel challenging, you may be creating unnecessary structure, or working with old information. It’s OK to ask people what their needs are; you don’t have to “know” to be worthy, & it makes space for them to express themselves & share with you 🧡 Overall, this is a good time to seek truth, brainstorm with others, solve problems, & speak only after you’ve passed the information through the three gates; Is it true? Is it necessary? & Is it kind/helpful?

Gus an ath thuras (Until next time), darlings Go, Do, Be Peace Out

[mysadblacksoul]

Backslide - 3/13 of the Clancy album

Grab a coffee and let's start this madness

MV

Tyler is wearing the same clothes that he wore in Overcompensate MV to I would assume that this MV takes place right after

Let's break down the signs first

We see the return of Ned Bayou as well as FPA, now standing for Food Petrol Etc.

You can buy 9 buns for $21, love the symbolism

There is a Jim sign omg. Baby is having his own bubblegum business

Of course the Bishops sign with 9 lines marked on it

I could've sworn that the black sign says "Dema Vapes", but looking closely I believe it's "Velma Vapes" lol

What is more, the cones (?) are yellow and I'm pretty sure that the fact that there are 5 of them is not an accident

They sold him bread that went bad lol. Nah for sure it's not the case since he gives the same bread to a child

But I believe that the scene and the lyrics are closely tied with Stressed Out

Now the next scene is interesting

I think that the bad weather is a simple metaphor for feelings of anxiety or fear

We can see that Tyler was contemplating then he was suddenly pulled from his thoughts

This is when the scene changes to normal, right? Exactly on the line It's over my head

Then we move to the scene with the kid

And I really believe that this little lad is personification of Ned

Like he has the same boba eyes lol

No but for real, this is parallel to Chlorine - kid is giving Tyler a cup just like Tyler gave to Ned. Yet he accepts it and drinks whatever is inside and Ned just shudders

Another interesting thing, that could make my point more valid is that the kid literally asks Is that a stain? You should change / Are you doin' good? / Did you solve all of your problems? like he knows Tyler very well and is in a way looking out for him

It's like he's keeping Ned by him - okat I'll stop

It might be a stretch, but the N kinda looks like a mirrored band symbol, do you also see it?

If 0.75c is equivalent to the cost of one bun than Tyler is being ripped off since he paid $21 for the pack instead of $6.75 lmao

Something is really wrong with those buns lmao

Then the mood changes again, but this time is even worse. Like his mental health is declining even more and even faster

The bread is wet, the day is ruined, thanks Mr. Joseph

You killed it Josh, love your creative mind

*funny music stops*

Now let's talk about the way how the MV is looping itself

I would say that it is a demonstration of the twisted circle that is life

Maybe it's a very basic analysis but I think of all the complicated lore-oriented MVs this one is uncomplicated

What is shown here is how our psyche can play tricks on us and how we can complicate a rather simple situation ourselves

If Tyler hadn't had dark thoughts then nothing would have happened to the bread, so he would have just gone and given it to Josh

This shows how our psyche itself can abolish the situation in which we find ourselves

Looping, on the other hand, shows that as long as we don't do anything about it ourselves, we will be stuck in this fishbowl (see what I did there?)

Maybe it's one big AD to check your mental health and a sign to try to get better

Lyrics!

Rat race, place to place, adding weight / Tendencies on repeat, innit? - rat race for sure happened in Dema, and repeat is literaly the loop, innit meand that Clancy is canonicaly British

Benefit from a shoe with no lace - shoe with no lace would make you fall back on the behaviour that you are running from

Take the seat with the crease in it - seat of someone who already tried to change their life, or even who had the same dreams and hopes for better future like Clancy

This could be parallel to When I leave, don’t save my seat/ I’ll be back when it’s all complete from Chlorine

I don't care, you control me / Leading me anywhere - well, all I should say is Dema don't control me and we all know the rest of the story

I don't wanna backslide to where I've started from - he doesn't wanna go back to his back habits as well as doesn't wanna go back to his life before he tried to escape

There's no chance I will shake this again - if he falls back one more time that will be the end of him. His psyche won't take it anymore and his plans will be buried

'Cause I feel the pull, water's over my head - this is parallel to Fall Away And I, I can feel the pull begin. But it also gives me the parallel to Holding On To You MV, the scene with the rope

Strength enough for one more time - like I said, this would be the last attempt to change everything

Reach my hand above the tide - it could indicate that his physical strength is also wearing out

I'll take anything you have / If you could throw me a line - again with the line. But it also can mean that he can endure anything now, he just needs a little helping hand

I should've loved you better - this line can be directed both to himself but also to the person who extends his hand to help. He might not have appreciated both parts before and now regrets it

Do you think that now's the time / You should let go? - This line is like both a request and an apology. As if he wants to say “I'm sorry I treated you badly before but please don't leave me when I need help”

Bad place, on a hundred-dollar bass - this line is also giving me Stressed Out. You can imagine the cheap bass being transported on the bicycle right?

Kinda wishin' that I never did "Saturday" - I think that he doesn't mean the MV irl lol, but the regret of taking part in Bishops' manipulation altogether

Is that a stain? You should change - a play with mentioning Saturday and the lirycs She said that I should change my clothes

Are you doin' good? / Did you solve all of your problems? - like I said before I believe that this is Ned looking out for Clancy, wishing him well

Thanks for asking, in a way, but / Accidentally uncovered a new one yesterday - safe to say that he is not doing better lol

What happened to what I brushed under the rug? - what happened to how well he used to be able to hide his problems and true feelings

I used to be the champion of a world you can't see / Now I'm drowning in logistics - if viewed as a fact that he created this world it now looks like he wants to regain all control over it. Logistics is to take care of the management of planning. And once again we see the mention of drowning

The bridge is acting as an externalization of his myhs and fears that even if he is outside the Dema, the Bishops will still have control over him

The entire song is about both regaining conrol over the world of Dema but also regaining control over himself, his psyche.

The main theme is about not going back to old habits.

The most important thing here is progress and pushing forward.

Because one wrong move can make all the work in vain and we will sink to the very bottom.

Safe to say that I liked it haha

[fairestar]

affirmations enchiridion · volume IV : studies and hobbies.

𐙚 enchiridion: a handbook; manual.ㅤ𐙚 affirmation: the assertion that something exists or is true.ㅤ✷ this post is part of a series, you can check the previous ones here (self concept), here (overall life), and here (personality and appearance), or go to #enchiridion in my blog.

· i am pure knowledge:

i am enlightened. i am imaginative. i am astute and resourceful. i am brilliant. i am well-read. i am perspicacious. i am the embodiment of knowledge and excellence. i am all-knowing.

everything i study is like a tree, it takes root in my mind and never leaves me. no subject or topic is ever too hard for me to understand. it never takes me long to comprehend any course. studying is effortless, quick and easy. i have a complete grasp over every class. i sincerely enjoy studying.

i am always completely focused while studying. nothing can ever distract me. thoughts flow seamlessly from one to the other when i am working on assignments. i can quickly make connections between different ideas and topics as to come up with the perfect solution for a problem. i am perpetually full of energy and determination to study. i am free from feeling fatigued or burnt-out. i feel exceptionally happy, accomplished and calm while studying. i am forever motivated.

i excel in everything. i constantly get full marks on all exams. i always know the right answer to any question. no matter what topic it is, i know exactly what to do. i am relaxed and confident while taking tests. i fully comprehend every question. i can easily solve complex math problems. i can smoothly express my ideas and thoughts. i am effortlessly eloquent and can write praise-worthy work.

· i am the one that inspires:

i am gifted. i am creative. i am a visionary. i am original. i am incomparable. i am unheard-of. i am forever inspired.

i am a naturally artistic and creative person. my imaginativeness is limitless. i am a prodigy in every activity and field. i can do and perform anything without much effort. i am a natural at everything. i can sing, i can dance, i can play any instrument, i can write, i can recite, i can do whatever it is i want and be perfect at it.

i am talented. i am proficient. i am distinguished. i am illustrious. i am demiurgic. i am celebrated. i am the one that reaches people's hearts with their work.

i can successfully turn all my ideas into reality. every one of my conceptions is authentic and completely new to the world. all of my endeavours are forever successful and well received. i inspirit everyone around me. every person who ever comes across my work will for evermore be transformed by it, they will everlastingly carry it with them.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ© fairestar, 2023.

[archiveofkloss]

“a conversation with Karlie Kloss + Dr. Sumbul Desai”, a YouTube interview by Krystal Lora

KL: I have some questions for both of you. So, I'll start with something that I guess you can both answer. This is a fun one. We're gonna start fun.

KK: *laughs*

KL: Out of curiosity, what is a go-to app on your phone that you use every day?

KK: Honestly *to Dr.Desai* thank you - I use my Apple Health app all the time because I have - the one thing I always have on me, of course, is my iPhone, and so, I'm always checking how many steps. So that's like for sure every day I'm checking that. *to Dr. Desai* What about you? I'm actually so curious.

SD: It's a really good question. I do - and I'm not just saying it because l work there - do look at the Health app and the Fitness app pretty regularly. Actually for the same reason, but I do it on my watch.

KK: Ohhh, interesting.

SD: So, I do do it every day. I also look at Final Surge, which is an app that does our training plans, and because I run - not right now, but if I run, I always check for my training plans and like what I'm doing, and it kind of lays out... My running coach will like lay out my plans for the week, so I'll always try to get that in regularly too.

KL: Kode With Klossy: I love everything it stands for and I'm such a big fan of all of it. Not only just the program that it is, but the community that you've built and established with it. What is an important lesson you learned while learning how to code and immersing yourself further into the world of technology?

KK: Sure, thank you. Well, you know, it's hard to believe, but Kode With Klossy actually was founded almost a decade ago, and it kind of came out of my own curiosity of just wanting to understand what this thing called 'coding' was, which a decade ago was still quite abstract and yet, it was this secret kind of language that enabled so much creativity, so many incredible businesses to be built and you to experience. I really wanted to understand like, "What is it behind that? Who knows how to do it?", and I took a coding class and I was the only woman in the classroom, and it kind of made me more broadly understand that there's not necessarily enough access to these opportunities, and that was almost a decade ago - a lot has changed, but we now have a community of more than 10,000 young women and gender expansive teens across the country and around the world. We're gonna have 5,000 more scholarships this summer for individuals to be apart of our community, so we're super excited about just continuing to kind of provide access to these skills because there's so much you can do. I mean, here we are talking about health, and you know, medicine, and there's so many scholars that we have who are actually really interested in medicine, but also might not realize how actually coding skills can be so useful in solving problems at that intersection or certainly in creative spaces too.

KL: I can ask both of you, what's your favorite piece of advice to give to young women in tech?

KK: I mean, I would say, just you never know where life is gonna take you, and that's not just for young women in tech. I mean, I could've never imagined when I was starting Kode With Klossy that it would grow into something so big, you know? It started with 20 scholarships, and like I said, we now have thousands of amazing scholars who are in their own communities, and their schools, and their careers, going on to do amazing things, and the ripple effect of that is immeasurable. And so I would just say, don't underestimate yourself and be courageous to kind of be authentic to whatever it is that you're passionate about, no matter what the world is telling you, whether that's right or wrong.

KL: That truly speaks to me. I mean, starting my tech YouTube channel and I was one of the few women doing it at the time-and it's still such a small space-that I think it's so important to know like to not be afraid to take that leap. How about yourself? I'd love to know.

SD: I think one of the things that I, and it's true again for all women - not just women in tech, is 1. Just be comfortable being uncomfortable. When you are the only woman in the room-and then that'll lead to my second piece of advice that I just wanna squeeze in there—but you know, you have to be comfortable with the fact that, you know, you're gonna be in situations that are difficult, and you do have to have that voice, and find your voice to be able to speak up. You know, when I went to engineering school, the male-to-female ratio was like 8:1, and so you get very used to being that only voice. So that's a really important thing is like, realize that as you grow, you're gonna be in situations that are uncomfortable, but that's kind of where the growth comes from. And I think the second piece of advice that I just want to say, which is related to what Karlie mentioned, is being sure you're confident in finding your voice. Like the biggest piece of advice also is, from a young age, find your voice. I know with my two girls, like I'm very focused on, "How do they find their voice and speak up in math class, speak up in science class?" Just make sure class?" Just make sure you find your voice and be confident about it.

KL: I love that. It's amazing. This is for you, Karlie.

KK: Sure.

KL: What is a change that you would like to see that could be made possible with implementation of technology? This could be super open-ended, so whether that be in the world of fashion or just today's society in general.

KK: Oh, my goodness. I mean, so many things.

SD: *laughs*

KL: Great

KK: You know, to be honest, that's part of why l'm so passionate about Kode With Klossy. It's because it's... We hold this space to bring so many young individuals together to learn these skills, and what they go on to do with it is actually what's most inspiring to me. You know, I have my own interests: I would own interests; I would love to see more in fashion. I think there's so much untapped potential, but Kode With Klossy is so much bigger than me, and/or any one person. It's this kind of space that we hold for so many people to come together and learn these skills and tap into their own personal passions using technology to solve problems that they care about, and seeing just even a glimpse into what they care about, what they're thinking about, makes me hopeful for our future. I've always thought coding is this superpower. It's because one person with the right skills, the right idea, can actually solve a big, big problem. But me personally, I would love to see more in fashion.

KL: Was there anyone that you consider a role model or mentor that inspired your career path in technology?

KK: Dr. Fei-Fei Li, who's actually a professor here at Stanford, and just a prolific voice and has been for many many years in Al and advocating for access to skills and also safety with Al. She is somebody who I deeply admire.

KL: Amazing

KK: Yeah

SD: I think the first is— always have two because I can't narrow it down-so, 1. Indra Nooyi who is the former PepsiCo CEO. I just think watching her journey and navigating some of the things she's navigated over her career, especially being a minority CEO and the head of a big company, and really making positive change in that command. She's just brilliant. So, I think that's one of the ones I look up to as a role model. But I will also say that one of the things I got from my mom is that she was a constant learner, and I went back to school later in life, and I learned that from her. She was a teacher initially and came to the States and became a nurse, and then went back to school to go into finance, and so she was never afraid to stop learning, and I think the courage that I had to be able to go back to medical school later in life, that came from her. I would not have- I don't think I would be sitting here today if I didn't have a lot of people's support, but also just kind of that as an inspiration.

KL: One last question. Can we take a selfie together?

KK: Yes!

KL & SD: *laughs*

KK: Of course!

[itsmeanyango]

Full Moon in Leo: Sun in Aquarius Opposition Moon in Leo, Pluto in Aquarius Opposition Moon in Leo

Full moon: Things come full circle.

Applies if you're 24 and above.

Feel free to book a consultation or reading here:

Today the Sun moves into Aquarius. Tomorrow Pluto moves into Aquarius. On 25th January There is a Full moon in Leo so here's what.

Pluto and the Sun will be in conjunction which means they will be moving together. Look at it like matching each others step, not footprint. You can match your step with someone on the pavement but you don't have the same foot size, your hands can interlace perfectly, but your hands are not the same size. The Sun and Pluto will work together at different intensities (one transforming and the other highlighting) on particular aspects whilst also opposing the moon hence resistance.

Pluto is about transformation and change(read my Pluto in Aquarius insight here and here to know how this transit will affect you)

The Sun is a spotlight, highlighting something. But remember, just because the spotlight is on something doesn't mean there is nothing outside the spotlight.

The moon majorly rules emotions and I feel called to mention the tides of the ocean.

So here is the reading. I'd like to mention that whenever I post these general readings they always target people who are past 23 years old unless I state otherwise(which I sometimes do in those many paragraphs of insight I put out here). This is because 24 year olds and above would find more resonance and help from reading these. Come back when you're above 24 to see that you find resonance. Also, I don't like the under 24 year olds being hooked on spirituality when they barely know themselves so they are always being taken advantage of by many spiritual practitioners. Do I do readings for younger people? Yes, and I will tell you exactly what is meant for you and not a false romance or billionaire come up reading. I guide, that's part of my work.

Okay.

So first of all, this energy should be utilised well for your highest good until the new moon in Aquarius(February 9th) because new moons symbolise new beginnings. I will do a follow up post on the new moon in Aquarius because Sun,Moon and Mercury will be in Aquarius then.

First house ♌/Leo rising ♌ ⬆️: Your character, who you are is fully loaded. But you will be met with a lot of resistance, that's how you will feel and your feelings are valid. You don't have to go against the current, just pretend to go with the flow then change course because in the words of Abraham Hicks "Nothing you want is upstream, everything you want is downstream".

It's going to be challenging especially with how social Leo's are, but you've got this! Find creative outlets even if it's just playing word puzzles or candy crush.

Second house ♌/Cancer rising ♋ ⬆️: You should have learnt about your valuables by now.

The lights might be blinding, blinding you away from what you should be looking at. It's like being in the cave of wonders and getting hypnotized by all the treasure instead of focusing on your mission. In the words of 777_Oya, "Eyes on your own mission".

A baby is not going to solve or fix it, cooking for them won't solve or fix it. Safe sex all day everyday, you might not regret your child but you will regret the father you chose for them. Don't give him your money, don't cosign anything with them, don't be their guarantor! Keep your name and signature off documents that benefit someone and have the potential to bring you problems.

Third house ♌/Gemini rising ♊ ⬆️: Your environment. You're getting sick in it right? So what aren't you changing it? Is that an excuse you're making or a valid reason?

Oh you say, “Ohana means family and that means no one gets left behind”. So what does family REALLY mean, and are these people meeting the criteria? Are YOU meeting that criteria?

Okay, what's the way forward now.

Fourth House ♌/Taurus rising ♉ ⬆️: Your Home coming full circle. Someone should check their Pinterest boards, you know or will know which ones to check. Sending love♥️Don't let the devil win ♥️

Hard work pays ♥️Work smarter, not harder♥️You deserve this♥️

Fifth house ♌/Aries rising ♈ ⬆️: Positive pregnancy test, lol. You thought it'd never happen to you, now see🤣🤣🤣. But this news comes with a lot of resistance because there is change in your life and a positive pregnancy test does not fit. You now have to choose. Think about your life a year down the line from now considering the current state of the world, is that the life you want? If not, how can you make it better?

Raising a child takes a community, but now what that your community does not want to be part of raising the child?

Sixth house ♌/Pisces rising ♓ ⬆️: You are what you eat.

Well well well. Is it shocking that your body is uncomfortable yet you drink minimal water, spend a lot of time on your screen, never really excercise, eat unsustainable meals, drink more none water fluids than water, wait until you can't hold your pee to go wee wee and not practice good dental hygiene? Well you can start by improving your daily routine to reverse those lifestyle diseases you've started inviting into your life. You will feel much better if you start now, the new moon in Aquarius will be kind on you ♥️

That coping mechanisms turned obsession turned addiction is refusing to let you go isn't it? It's teeth seem to have sunk deep into your skin and everytime you try and leave it drags too back. This is a post(YouTube lecture) I saw by DrIndyEinstein and I hope it helps you.

Seventh house ♌/Aquarius rising ♒ ⬆️: Relationships coming full circle. It's giving, "I never knew how much I hated them until I had to be around them. I thought I was cool with them but I HATE them". Unjustifiable hate btw, work on yourselves so next time you're doing it like Leo Risings. There's opposition to face yourself because you'd rather live in the past with these biases and keep blaming everyone but yourself.

You're fighting yourself. Look into Congruence by Carl Jung and Congruence by Carl Rodgers

Eighth house ♌/Capricorn rising ♑ ⬆️: Well well well, if it isn't the consequences of poor money habits.

Girl if you don't get it together. This one actually seems to be very particular because it came with a gender. Be a smart money woman NOW! I know it looks so beautiful and you have the money at hand, but girl you'll end up borrowing money to survive and getting caught in a cycle of borrowing and paying and borrowing and defaulting.

I'm rooting for you to be a smart money woman 😭

Omg, robbing your future to pay your present. Not cool, not cool.

Ninth house ♌/Sagittarius rising ♐ ⬆️: There's this Beyonce song where she says "So what are you gonna say at my funeral, now that you've killed me?"

That is a message from your higher self to you.

Say what you mean, mean what you say. If you're coming go and if you're going come. When you find out what that second line means then you know what to do.

Tenth house ♌/Scorpio rising ♏ ⬆️: Career coming full circle. You're going to quit your job aren't you?

You're afraid of the future too, aren't you? Here is something my friend sent me about a job I resigned from.

Losing your job or resigning from your job can make you homeless, but aren't you home less with that frustrating job? Have a plan.

Eleventh house ♌/Libra rising ♎ ⬆️: Cyberhygiene.

But you're lazy to change and safely backup your passwords.  Watch as AI and other potential threats teach you a little something about cyber security. Something as simple as your devices breaking down.

Too much play and little work makes (insert your name) a dull (insert preferred identity).

Twelfth house ♌/Virgo rising ♍⬆️: Someone might just go pop. "This is my villain origin story".

That under pressure song by Jessica Barlow, the one in Encanto. That's the message, only that someone actually goes on a rampage.

The same irritating/unsettling thing happenings over and over again and you keeping the peace on the outside only compromises the peace on the inside.

Express yourself but don't go overboard and end up being labelled the problem.

That's it.

[leagraceborres]

STEM

What is STEM?

The STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) is one of the four strands available for senior high school in the Philippines. STEM is a two year program that is used in senior high school (Grade 11 and 12). It is a specific educational path that aims to prepare students for future professions in these sectors. It strives to provide students with the abilities, information, and expertise required to succeed in fields related to science and technology. The STEM strand is also available in other country like, Australia, China, France, South Korea, Taiwan, and the United Kingdom. STEM graduates in the Philippines have numerous employment options. Engineering, information technology, science, mathematics, and research are among the most in-demand occupations for STEM graduates. These disciplines provide excellent career possibilities, competitive pay, and opportunities for professional development and progress.

Here Are Some Courses You Can Take If You Took STEM Strand

Science

If you wish to work in the medical area, the next step is to take a scientific course. From health and wellbeing to research and development, medical professionals play an important role in science.

Here are some science courses to consider:

BS Nursing

BS Medical Technology

BS Pharmacy

BS Food Technology

BS Environmental Science

BS Chemistry

Information and Communications Technology

Consider taking an information and communications technology (ICT) course if you enjoyed your coding lessons in high school. Among the topics covered are programming, data analytics, and web development.

Here are some ICT courses you can choose from:

BS Entertainment and Media Computing

BS Information Science

BS Data Science

BS ESports

BS Information Technology

Engineering

If you enjoy problem solving, an engineering course might be right for you. An engineering course will help you to expand your knowledge and skills in these areas. In a nutshell, you'll learn how to build structures and processes that improve people's lives. If the challenge of creativity appeals to you, engineering is the path to choose.

Here are some engineering courses you can choose from:

BS Materials Engineering

BS Electronics and Communications Engineering

BS Chemical Engineering

BS Mechanical Engineering

BS Geodetic Engineering

Mathematics

Mathematics courses teach pupils advanced numerical and analytical skills. They cover the fundamentals of mathematics such as algebra, geometry, logic, abstract thinking, and others. In brief, everything you need to know about mathematical computing and modeling. A degree in mathematics will undoubtedly feed your passion of numbers. Math skills can be employed in a variety of industries, from finance to research. There are mathematics courses that can lead to a teaching career as well.

Here are some mathematics courses you can choose from:

BS Applied Mathematics

BS Mathematics

BS Statistics

BS Secondary Education (major in Mathematics)

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10 Ways to Grow Your YouTube Channel

There's no denying that video marketing has been on the rise over the last few years, becoming more and more popular and accessible to brands. Popular websites like TikTok, Facebook, Instagram and yours offer great investment opportunities, but individuals watch billions of hours of video on this platform every day, so why not create a YouTube channel?

Why not?

This is the perfect place to promote your brand. YouTube, often referred to as "his second largest search engine in the world," believes that if you know the tricks and basics of creating creative videos, people will find your content faster and get more. of engagement. gain. Here are 10 tips for growing your YouTube channel.

Create videos around a single keyword/topic

Creating videos around a single topic or keyword is the best way to increase traffic and grow your YouTube audience. Marketers unfamiliar with SEO risk overlooking this video ranking step, but it's important to include if you want your videos to reach the maximum number of viewers. Use a keyword tool like YouTube-specific her KeywordTool.io to find the most searched keywords in your target niche. It is important to choose your keywords before creating your video content. This helps us create the best possible information on a particular topic. It also helps to remember to include keywords naturally throughout your content so that YouTube can pick up subtitles when they are added. Once you've chosen your keywords, check out the videos currently ranking for that topic to make sure your intentions are on the right track, and keep tweaking your titles and descriptions. This way you can generate more search traffic with his SEO on YouTube.

Reuse existing content for best performance

Of course, the best way to grow your YouTube channel is to create and distribute great content. But that content doesn't necessarily have to be created from scratch. Some of the best videos can be made from engaging, valuable, useful, and actionable content. Many people turn to YouTube to find answers and guidance. Especially during his COVID-19 pandemic, in just one year he has watched 4 billion hours of how-to videos. So content that solves audience problems is a great way to drive traffic. Conduct a content audit to discover the blogs, guides, and other powerful assets you currently own and consider how you can reuse them to create relevant and engaging videos. The best performing videos on YouTube are usually 1-5 minutes long, so you don't have to make a movie or write a story. Keep it short and sweet.

Interact with your audience

Click here to learn how to grow your channel and get monetized fast. Since YouTube is a social media channel, it's important not to overlook the need for social interaction. Simply posting a video without encouraging comments and discussion is missing the point. YouTube rewards channels for great engagement, including total time spent on the channel, watch time, likes and dislikes, and most importantly comments. So try to reply to every comment you receive (if possible!) and encourage users to interact with audiovisual prompts. You can also visit and participate in other channels over time. This can be a brand that is similar to yours or a brand you aspire to be - we don't always wait for the audience to take the lead. Post questions and comments that can drive engagement by asking content-related questions or asking what content you'd like to see or see more on your channel. Also thanks to those who shared on YouTube and other channels. Click here to get one on one coaching

Brand it

Your content may be great, but is your channel engaging? If you want your visitors to take your YouTube channel seriously and subscribe, you need to look professional. Improving your organization's social branding helps users instantly recognize your content. So if you have a blog or website, chances are you already have some sort of look and feel that sets you apart from other people and businesses. So it makes sense to apply this branding to your YouTube channel. This is the case of Nintendo, the gaming giant with 8.12 million subscribers. They provide great content about games and consoles, including short gameplay videos and behind-the-scenes snippets. In addition to visual branding, don’t forget to add custom URLs to your channel header - and write an interesting bio about who you are and what your videos are about.

Promote your YouTube videos on other social channels.

One of the great things about social media is the ability to cross-promote your content across different channels. Promoting your YouTube videos on other social channels is the easiest way to grow your audience. According to the Digital 2021: Global Overview Report, there is significant overlap in users across social media platforms, with YouTube seeing his massive engagement of over 90% among users across all top channels. This means it is a channel to consider when it comes to marketing efforts and engagement. So what channel do you think you're on? Facebook, LinkedIn, Instagram, TikTok? There are so many options for social media videos, so many great ideas. And if you have a channel (such as Facebook) where you want to post videos directly, you can always publish full-length videos on YouTube to get the best engagement across channels. Don't forget your blog. You can even post videos there! And if you have a podcast, it works very seamlessly with your YouTube channel.

Show off and stand out

Click here to learn how to grow your channel and get monetized fast. If you run YouTube for yourself or for a small organization, getting involved in videos and personalizing your channel can be very beneficial. Showing up on your brand helps your audience connect with you as an individual. This is especially important for bloggers. A fitness, life or business coach. and a solo premier. You don't have to show up in every video you make, but you should show up regularly to keep your audience engaged. Also, if you're this type of creator, use a photo of yourself on your channel (not a logo). Click here to get one on one coaching

Post great thumbnails and use YouTube cards

It may seem like a small thing (well, it is), but thumbnails can make a big impact. YouTube promotes other videos via sidebar thumbnails and you want your video to stand out from the crowd. The same applies to YouTube search. Videos with catchy titles and attractive thumbnails usually rank higher, even if the content itself is less valuable due to a higher click-through rate (CTR). Try tactics such as highlighted areas, arrows, large text, and unexpected or eye-catching l-images to achieve the desired CTR. See example below.

Press subscription

When they "subscribe" to watch all newly posted videos, you can be sure that your viewers are interacting with your channel. Encourage viewers to subscribe and keep in touch with existing subscribers on every video you upload. (You can see your subscriber list here). Here's an example of how the subscribe button might look on your video. Never pay your subscribers. This will only reduce engagement and affect the credibility of your account in the long run. Remember that you can miss out on many potential followers if you don't ask your audience to subscribe. Please. The more subscribers you have, the more likely you are to get more watch time on YouTube.

Increase upload frequency

It may sound intimidating at first, but to grow your audience, you need to increase your posting frequency to at least one video per week. Don't worry; you don't need a design agency or a big advertising agency to do this. Today's smartphones have great video recording capabilities, and tools like Animator make it easy for video editors to create video content on a budget. Consistency is paramount. Try to post at the same time daily or weekly (depending on frequency) to keep your subscribers updated when new videos arrive. Then stick to your schedule.

Become an expert in social video (and YouTube).

Click here to learn how to grow your channel and get monetized fast. Click here to learn how to grow your channel and get monetized fast. Video as a content format continues to grow. According to The State of Video Marketing report, 86% of businesses use video as a marketing tool, and 87% of marketers report positive his ROI from performance. As audiences become more visual and platforms like TikTok grow in popularity, marketers need to understand the role of video and how to use it effectively across all social media channels. Click here to learn how to grow your channel and get monetized fast. Click here to get one on one coaching