#//well this is certainly a turn of events

[reasonsforhope]

Climate change in 2025: So, what now?

Some real talk for the new year, about where we now stand, and what the next years are going to look like.

(Still ends on a “be hopeful!! or else” kind of note, but definitely gets into some heavy truths about the meaning of recent events.)

--

Obviously, between Trump's reelection at the Los Angeles fires, things are feeling a lot more precarious than they did just a few months ago. I know a lot of people are incredibly stressed. I know I'm certainly stressed.

But this isn't the end. This isn't the beginning of the end, either. We're not doomed.

Don't despair.

Yes, things are about to get harder. Yes, the effects of climate change are now becoming truly apparent.

But here's what you need to hold on to:

We have already cut expected warming in half.

More about that including sources here: (x) I'm not going to go into it again in detail, read the source for that. But it's true. In 2000, when I was a kid, they were predicting 4, 5, 6 degrees of warming, plus a runaway greenhouse effect that would boil the planet.

Now, scientists expect that global temperatures will likely land between 2 and 3 degrees.

Which is incredibly shitty, yes. But it's survivable.

And I have for a lot of reasons (check these masterposts on this) to believe with the confidence of knowing that we're going to get expected warming down even further.

And that's something to celebrate.

I’m not saying that the effects of warming aren’t already bad, or won’t get worse. I’m from California, I currently live in LA. My state’s been on fire for half my life. Natural disasters starting amping up early here (and we’re certainly in the middle of another historic number now). And yeah, it's fucking stressful right now.

But like I said, my state’s been breaking horrible disaster records constantly for the past ten years. I've done this before. And you know what? Natural disasters have been getting more and more survivable for years, largely thanks to faster warnings and better mass communication (x).

Does it suck how many natural disasters there are now? Yeah.

Does it suck how many more still there will be? Yeah.

Do we need to keep working our asses off to beat climate change? Yeah.

Are we going to need to organize and mobilize (both politically and especially community-wise) like never before to see as many people through these times as best as possible? Yeah.

But that doesn't mean we should despair. It absolutely does not mean that we've already lost.

An unknown number of the most optimistic futures were foreclosed when Trump won the US election. That’s painful but a reality.

But for twenty-ish of the past twenty-five years, the science said we weren’t going to survive climate change at all.

For most of my life, we were worried that we had set Earth on a course to become like fucking Venus (which is, on average, well over 800 degrees Farenheit). Even if it didn’t get that bad, we were so worried that global warming might wipe out all life on earth - except maybe the cockroaches.

(Literally, when I was a younger the kids at my church put on a play about that. It was like an adaptation of A Christmas Carol where the future only had talking cockroaches. I grew up so worried about this. (Not the cockroaches thing specifically. Mostly the general concept. Only a little about the cockroaches. Also yes my church was very granola why do you ask.))

But starting a few years ago, studies have shown that there wasn’t going to be a runaway greenhouse effect that could turn us into Venus; that earth is warming, yes, but we don’t seem to be in danger of that.

Between that and the fact that the adoption of renewables globally is too fast to be stopped, and we do have the technology and environmental science knowledge to eventually re-lower global temperatures by getting to net negative carbon emissions (x), and most countries and at least 73% of people in all countries for which there is data (x) actually care very much about the climate, yeah, we have closed the door on the lava planet future.

And yeah, I do think that’s worth celebrating.

That’s a massive fucking victory.

There's still more work to do, and I have every confidence that we're going to do it. I also think that, given the loss of the US election, there’s a really, really strong chance the developing world will be what saves us, and we’ll just be lucky to be along for the ride.

Most people have no idea of the kinds of amazing stories and statistics coming out of the developing world and Indigenous communities. The world is changing for the better on the environment, even as disasters (and the US) are getting worse. Solar power is going to revolutionize the fucking world, because it’s going to grant humanity universal access to electricity, and that’s going to revolutionize the world, especially the developing world (aka the global majority). And most people have no idea at all, much less how much it’s going to change.

So, yeah, natural disasters are going to keep getting worse.

But there’s a long, long long fucking way between “natural disasters are going to keep getting worse” and “the extinction of all of humanity and/or the vast majority of life on earth”

So, in the face of Trump, in the face of everything, I still choose to hope. I still choose to celebrate this as a true and profound accomplishment.

Because for over twenty years, I was afraid I’d never get to.

That difference is absolutely worth celebrating.

[fayes-fics]

Il Ballo del Doge

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU (threesome)

Summary: At the most exclusive event during Carnevale di Venezia, you find yourself sat between two irresistible, handsome brothers…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest. Modern AU with Regency masquerade roleplay. Sexual acts with strangers. Very light dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, praise kink, frottage, handjob through clothing. Mentions of cunnilingus, blow jobs, vaginal sex, exhibitionism, sex in front of a crowd.

Word Count: 3.7k

Author's note: An exercise to warm up my writing muse that spiralled into a dirty-talking threesome 🤷‍♀️😬 This is modern AU with the boys dressed in Regency masquerade ball garb. Fic title is the name of the most exclusive ball during Carnival. Thanks to @colettebronte for quickly wading through this utter filth. Err enjoy 🧡

Venice.

Carnivale.

A masquerade ball ripped from the pages of history - an opulent smorgasbord of cabaret, circus and epicurean feast, held in a sprawling Venetian palazzo. You are stunned as you arrive; grand architecture ablaze with countless fire torches, jugglers and semi-nude performers under heavy garlands of flowers and vines while champagne overflows into towers of coupe glasses: a modern bacchanalian celebration, a luxurious escape for the rich and connected.

You have saved for years to be here - a once-in-a-lifetime trip. This ball is one night of fantasy and sensual indulgence. Detached from reality, you are plunged into another world behind a Columbina demi mask and elaborate costume picked from an atelier.

So when you find yourself sitting for the banquet between two tall, broad-shouldered, strong-jawed men with aristocratic British accents a few hours into the event, it feels enthralling to flirt with them both. The over-the-top theatricality of the setting and the masks you all wear lend an air of anonymity that makes you unusually daring. They are dressed sharply in full Regency garb, a cut that emphasises their appealing physicality. One of them leans in close as you finish the final course of the night; the meal has been a perfect symphony of flavour building upon the last dish.

“Pray tell, my fair lady, what do you wish for tonight?” 

“A night I will never forget.” 

Your response is truthful but intentionally enigmatic, craning to whisper into his neck, inhaling his delicious, unique, custom-blended aftershave.

“May I assist with that?” He proposes, intent evident from the tone he invokes.

“Perhaps….” You coquette, revelling in the delicious array of possibilities before throwing down a daring gauntlet: “Can you promise to be memorable?”

He huffs a throaty laugh.

“I most certainly hope I can. But safety in numbers may be most prudent to ensure it. Perhaps my brother can assist in such endeavours?” 

He nods to the man sitting on your other side, who turns towards you, smile crooked under his demi mask. 

“I am seated between two brothers?!”

“A Viscount and a renowned artist, no less,” the first man crows, a self-assurance there that speaks volumes to the veracity of his claim. And you can well believe it. Events such as this exclusive ball are the playground of the elite, after all.

“Which of you is the Viscount, and who is the artist?” You query, your gaze moving from one to the other and back again. 

The other man leans in. “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? And where is the fun in that?” He hums, his breath ghosting through the tendrils of hair around the ribbon ties of your mask.

“I am Ant, and my brother here is Ben,” the first man explains, “and that is all you need to know.”

You offer your name before tilting your chin to the stage before you. “The evening's entertainment is about to recommence, though, gentlemen.” 

“You will not need to miss a thing,” Ben answers blithely. “We can give you an experience like no other without you even having to leave the very chair you sit in.”

You can’t help the bubble of sceptical laughter at that bold statement. “How?”

“We will talk you through pleasure,” Ant intones, his voice dripping with a confidence that is skating the edges of arrogance. “We will not even need to touch you. In fact, I rather like the onus that we will not.”

You pull an incredulous face. “I’d like to see you try…”

“Oh, my fair lady, that attitude is just a red rag to the proverbial bull,” Ant cautions, voice like smooth velvet sliding over your skin.

Part of you wants to scoff and walk away, part of you wants to be stubborn and prove them wrong, but the biggest part of you, from your neck downwards really, wants them to do just that. Bring you pleasure. Here in public. In this loud, raucous, decadent room filled with hundreds of people.

“Go right ahead gentlemen,” you challenge, your tongue deciding for you as you raise an eyebrow to them each in turn.

Ant reaches around behind him and produces a long, black, polished walking cane. “Fortuitously, this came as a part of my costume,” he offers before pausing a beat to employ a clipped, brusque tone: “Open your legs.”

To your own astonishment, you obey reflexively. With a smirk, Ant slides the cane between your legs, still covered in voluminous skirt layers. He hooks its tip through the foot rung in your chair, then leans its ornate filigree round handle against the dining table in front of you. He rearranges the heavy tablecloth over it and around your lap to completely conceal the cane’s presence.

“Something for you to pleasure yourself against, subtly, of course,” Ant breezes as your head whips to look at him, startled by his matter-of-fact suggestion.

“Do not concern yourself,” Ben reassures. “There is far too much noise and distraction in this vast room for others to know or frankly care. Their attention will also be diverted to the stage and the performers. That is, if they are not themselves being pleasured. There are as many people to be found under these tables as people sitting around them, especially by the end of the night,” his opinion sounding very much based on experience rather than conjecture.  

“Shuffle forward in your chair,” Ant encourages, and again you find yourself doing his bidding. The many layers of your costume scrunch between your legs as you close your thighs around the thin cane, a throb already in your silken underwear at how daring this is, allowing two virtual strangers to do this to you.

“Perfect,” Ben compliments just as the music pipes up loudly and a troupe of dancers take to the stage.

Ant places two napkins on the table before you. 

“If either of us says or does something that you do not like, pick up the serviette closest to that person, and we shall desist,” he explains, a surge of pleasure that you are being given all the power to direct their behaviour. 

“Men of honour,” you comment, impressed, as both men subtly shift their chairs closer, turning into your body slightly. 

“We are gentlemen.” 

“It is a privilege for us to do this.”

A spike of lust races through you at their dulcet tones, so close up now.

“And what should I do if I like what you are doing? For you not to desist?”

You feel more than see the matching smiles on either side of your face.

“Oh, believe me, we shall know…” Ben chuckles richly, “and we will keep doing so until you are satisfied.”

Something in that smoky promise makes your pulse all over, and you swallow heavily, a flush creeping over you at their proximity. You can tell no one is paying the three of you any heed, though, with all attention around you glued to the magnificent performers.

“You may touch us anywhere you wish,” Ant tempts, knowing your eyes have flitted down to the fit of their costumes a few times already, expensive wool wrapped tight around shapely thighs.

“But it doesn’t matter how much you beg; we shall not touch you,” Ben adds teasingly.

You bite your lip, already squirming in your cushioned seat. The tautness of the fabric between your legs due to the cane there has your clit swelling. 

“Now, I rather suspect this fair lady likes a mental picture to be painted…” Ben begins.

“I think you might be right, brother,” Ant concurs. " You are the expert in such matters, after all.”

“So you must be the Viscount…” you crow, almost triumphant, turning fractionally towards Ant.

“Well, aren't you the clever girl?” he hums; that choice of words has a curl of heat unfurling in your gut.

“Of course she is,” Ben cuts in. “If there is one thing we can tell, it’s that you are an independent, smart woman. Who else would travel to Venice and attend such an event all alone? And yet… and yet…. secretly what you crave, what you would never admit to, is just how wet it gets you to be praised and told you are such a good girl, hmmm?”

You exhale shakily, slightly unnerved that he has been able to hit the bullseye so readily but so thrilled for the endless delicious prospects this could portend.

“But how good of a girl can she really be when what she most wants is for us to fuck her right here in public?” Ant piles in; his use of that phrase has you inhaling sharply, taken aback at how quickly it has escalated.

“Don't pretend you don't want that,” Ben clucks. “Your perfect little clit is throbbing right now at the idea, isn't it? Picturing these crowds of people watching, salivating and wishing it were them inside you. Watching as you claw at this table and take us both in turn….”

You are indeed clutching the side of the table already, nails digging into the wood through the cloth, breath stolen by just how explicit they are being. And yet, as promised, they do not lay a finger on you except the press of their clothed thighs against yours where they surround you on both sides. You rock further forward in your chair without even realising, needing to feel that hard rod against your slit, the relief that pushing yourself against it will bring.

“I rather think you would demand our tongues first, though,” Ant remarks casually.

“Oh, I wouldn't doubt it,” Ben agrees. “For us to throw your legs over our shoulders and feast upon you. Run our tongues over and over until you are shivering and pulling our hair, directing us just where you want us. I suspect you are the type who wants to taste yourself in the mouth of those who pleasure you. For them to kiss you with their tongue thick with your arousal, face glazed with your juices.”

You are breathing ragged, honestly spellbound by their ability. 

“And I bet you taste delicious. Like ripe berries, sweet but tart,” Ant contends. “A flavour that bursts on the tongue like a fine wine.”

He reaches for his glass and waits for you to watch him take an indulgent sip, the bob of his Adam’s Apple as he swallows. But he allows a drop to escape around the corner of his mouth dribbling a line that you track covetously, tongue feeling heavy, wanting to lick it from his hint of chin stubble.

“Remember, you can touch. That includes with your tongue, sweet girl,” he goads before using the pad of his thumb to wipe away that tempting trickle provocatively.

You can’t help the light moan that escapes your lips, grinding against the pole he has placed between your legs; the spike of pleasure it causes as it crushes your clit has you shuddering.

“That’s it,” Ben gusts. “Treat that swollen little pearl just a little rough. I bet all those layers of fabric are just adding to the exquisite ache….” 

His hand lands on the table next to yours, not touching but close enough that you can see how long and shapely his fingers are compared to your own. He swirls his pointer and middle finger slowly on the tablecloth in a circular motion. An intentional tease that you stare at, your hips somehow syncopating with the speed of his movements, imagining that very hand buried between your thighs.

“That’s it,” he repeats, “not too fast, not too slow.”

“Just enough to make you reckless with need,” Ant interjects. “You would do anything we told you to if we got you to that sweet spot, wouldn’t you?”

You nod without even realising it.

“Oh, I know it,” Ant gloats. “I would tease you for so long you forget your own name. Clit so swollen you can’t cross your legs. Begging and pleading for relief…”

These men use words like finely-honed weapons. Each phrase is seemingly expertly designed to take you apart at the seams. Your hands splay out on the table, and you grab each of theirs, clutching the back of their knuckles into your palm as you rub yourself shamelessly.

“You get the prettiest flush when you’re aroused,” Ben whispers, his eyes flitting down to your décolletage. “I wonder how far it goes? Does it keep going all the way to those pretty, puffy lips that are wrapped around that cane right now?”

The way he says it conjures the thought of your mouth wrapped around a cock; in no doubt that both of theirs are likely sizeable.

“I know what you’re thinking of,” Ant murmurs darkly as you keep writhing, a bead of sweat running down your spine into your underwear. “I know you are a dirty little thing who loves to be on your knees as well. I can tell how much you love the power. Having a man vulnerable in your mouth. Their rapt attention begging you to suck a little harder, a little deeper.” 

“She loves to tease,” Ben surmises as they lean in closer, both lips dusting the shell of your ear. “Little strands of saliva roping from your lips as you pull off and look up goadingly through your lashes. You love to feel the tremble of thighs under your palms, don’t you? That feeling when your lips are all swollen and your cheeks aching from all that sucking. But most of all, you love to have a man come undone in your mouth. To swallow every drop you have earned…”

You are panting openly, harshly, your mouth filled with saliva as you imagine how tasty they likely are, a sweetness that makes it pleasant, addictive almost. A yearning for either to stand up, unzip right now and offer you their cock to suck upon. All around you, lights swirl, and the music swells louder, obscuring what is happening at this table. The most risqué you have ever behaved, wantonly frottaging yourself as two strangers, albeit handsome refined gentlemen, spout utter filth.

“Tell me how you’d fuck me,” you demand, gasping, rhythmically crushing your throbbing clit, wanting to come so bad your skin itches.

“I’d go first,” Ben huffs, his breathing uneven now too. “You’re already dripping down to your knees from our tongues; you can take me, can’t you, sweet girl?”

Again, you find yourself nodding; your lip darkened from your incisor tooth snagging upon it.

“I think what you might enjoy is being face down,” he rumbles dangerously. “So you can’t see everyone watching you at first. Just hear their shocked but approving noises. Your forehead on this tablecloth as I place a hand on your spine to quell your quivering from behind. Drag your hips over this table and plough right into your weeping little cunt.”

That word is the catalyst. You can no longer hold back. Your hands fly into both of their laps and grab their thighs forcefully, loving the feel of warm, latent muscle as your fingers curl into their quads. 

“Oh, you like that…” Ant assesses correctly.

You hiss your assent as Ben continues.

“You are so perfect for me, aren’t you? Such a pretty pussy, all swollen and puffy and soaked as I split you open. I’m not going to go slow because that’s not what you want, is it? You want sharp thrusts, your toes leaving the ground with each snap, pressed hard into the table, your nipples rubbing just a little raw inside your corset. You want your entire body to jerk with each thrust, clit catching the table edge….”

Your responding yes is sibilant, as all around you, the frenzy of entertainment continues, spotlights swirling, performers contorting themselves in a seeming match for your fever.

“You want my hands clamped on your hips, tugging you back into my cock. Curled over you and praising how well you take it and what a good girl you are for me and for letting everyone watch. You feel so divine, squeezing my cock so tight that my eyes roll. Butttt…” he rolls that last letter in his mouth as if a tasty treat, his hand flexing on the table. “My poor sweet thing, just as you are babbling, clawing and moaning so beautifully, drooling onto this cloth right here, I'm going to pull out and leave you wanting, for we are not ready to have you come again. Not yet, my sweet girl. We want you mindless, to build you up so many times over that you are aching. The reward will be so much sweeter for you in the end that way, won't it?”

No one has ever talked to you in such precise, poetic detail before. Your hands grasp their thighs roughly, but they maintain their promise, even as you see the mutinous desire in the flex of their bodies, a muzzled yen to touch you back. It makes you need them more, how much control they can exert despite wanting the opposite. You are shameless in your motions now, pushing yourself towards that high; part of you wishes to plunge your fingers into yourself, and part of you wants to see if you can orgasm untouched, coming undone with just their words and friction.

“Don't stop,” Ant gasps. “Make yourself come, sweet girl.”

“I want to grab both of your cocks,” you confess rapidly, the truth tumbling from your lips as you ratchet higher.

“Do it…” Ant dares you, as out the corner of your eye you can see his are glittering darkly, pupils blown. 

They both growl as you twist your wrists and slide your hands greedily up their laps, shamelessly palming their erections, straining against their trousers under the table. The heat and mass of them both has your pussy quivering, knowing from this touch alone just how satisfied you would be to feel either or, ideally, both of them fuck you. Their grip on the table has their knuckles turning white as Ant speaks anew, a tinge of desperation in his words that has you gleeful.

“My brother has had a little of his fun; now it's my turn. And I think you are ready to see all those gathered around you, even those onstage gazing down upon you. So I am going to flip you over, my sweet girl. Place your ankles upon my shoulders, that drenched little slit ruining my trousers before I tug open my fly and take you too. How prettily you howl my name as I slide into you. This sturdy table is going to squeak, isn't it? You are such a demanding thing, ordering me to fuck you harder, your hands clawing at my jacket, your heels clicking together behind my head. Perhaps my brother needs to be on the other side of the table, holding your shoulders down so all can see. Maybe even ripping open your dress, your beautiful breasts bouncing with each thrust I take, my good girl. You want this and so much more, don’t you? For me to fuck you endlessly right here, right now….”

And it's true. You yearn for what they promise. For them to bury their tongues between your thighs, for you to be on your knees before them, sucking the very life out of their cocks. For them to throw you onto this same table and fuck you so hard and thoroughly, you leave fingernail marks on the wood. To have the whole crowd watch as you near peak after peak until you are a swollen, fucked-out mess. Craving nothing but more, another orgasm, that mind-blowing pleasure that makes you soar high above as well as stay rooted so deep in your body you feel a weight in your bone that is pure rapture. 

And just like that, you are breaking, burying your face into Ant’s neck as you wrap an arm around Ben’s. Shuddering violently as you crest that edge, febrile pleasure breaking over your skin, each cell of your body seeming to snap taut and then relax into waves of bliss, floating somewhere high above the sparkling chandeliers that hang from each beam. Dimly, you hear them murmuring your praises, but it's muffled by the rush of blood in your head. It seems to last forever, jerking and spasming against that cane, wanting instead to feel their weight on top of you, their cocks spurting deep within you as you reach that peak in harmony. When you come back to yourself, you realise your hands are still unconsciously squeezing their cocks through their clothing, and suddenly you snatch your hands from their laps.

“Don’t you dare come,” you snarl, as they groan enchantingly, so close and yet denied at the very last moment.

“Why?” Ant puffs, a vein on his forehead pulsing beguilingly.

“Because I need you to fuck me…” you grit out between your teeth. “Both of you,” you add, addressing Ben, his whole body quaking as you utter it. 

Even though your knees feel like jelly, you push back your chair, the cane clattering to the floor and rolling under the table, forgotten, as you stand up and grab their hands, hauling them from their seats. You are uncaring if anyone stares at you, costumes dishevelled and askew, as you march towards the exit. Neither resists as you tug them out of the ballroom, down the long grand stairwell and outside to the gondolas lined up on the dock, ready to ferry people back to their hotels. 

“I have one requirement…” you practically bark as you push them both down onto a seat, twisting to name your hotel to the gondolier behind you, his smirk unmistakable. 

“Which is…?” Ant prompts, staring up at you as you tower over them, your eyes drawn inexorably to the unmistakable outline still nestled in both of their trousers. 

You take a seat on the bench opposite them in the narrow boat. Wordlessly pulling up your layers of skirt and peeling down your ruined underwear, tossing them into the canal as they stare covetously, likely catching a glimpse between your legs before you roll your skirt back down.

“You had both better fucking touch me...” you finally reply.

They throw their heads back and laugh heartily, twisting to look at each other briefly, seeming to communicate silently before their gazes land back on you, almost predatory.

“You can bloody count on it,” they growl in unison.

masterlist • wips • taglist (must follow this blog to be tagged)

Anthony & Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @ferns-fics @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23

[sammyluvr]

✶ out of my head — spencer reid

cw : gn!bau!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, mental exhaustion, very little dialogue, unedited, 985 words. requested ! for my 900 followers event [ closed ] .

prompt : a motel bathroom + “i can’t get you out of my head.”

the town is small, the case is hard, and the nights aren’t restful. for this week, it’s two to a seedy motel room. spencer’s your roommate this time around, which helps nothing at all. you should be used to how beautiful he looks when he’s sleepy and just woken up in the morning, but it makes your chest tighten to the point where you nearly stop breathing. it’s not as if you haven’t shared a room with him for a case before, but there’s some weird intimacy about sharing this room.

he’s in the bathroom, washing his hands, as he’s been doing often this trip. the first time you walked into the room with him, go-bags heavy after a long flight, he sprouted off some statistic regarding the cleanliness of motel rooms, or rather the lack thereof. you think he was trying to cover up how nervous it made him, and you offered to take his sheets and blanket to the laundromat you passed. the signage had told you that it’s always open late. you certainly wouldn’t mind extra clean sheets either.

he refused, though, saying he’d do it himself if he really needed to, and that you shouldn’t have to do that for him. but you don’t really think about it in terms of should or shouldn’t, more so that it makes you glad to do anything for him at all. you stay quiet though, and let this one slide. as long as he sleeps alright, it’s fine with you. 

sleeping well is a relative term, of course. it’s two in the morning right now, and you’ve just gotten back from the station. hotch sent you all to bed after a break in the case. the night shift detectives will keep working until you all get at least a bit of rest.

you drift over to the bathroom, its warm light casting spencer’s form in soft shadow. he hears your sigh before your quiet footsteps, and turns his neck to look at you. he gives you a soft smile, drying his hands on the small towel. you try not to stare; he has very pretty hands.

“hey,” he murmurs, making no move to leave the bathroom. he can tell by the way you padded over that you don’t actually need the room for anything. that, and you used it and brushed your teeth first thing after getting back. you’ve already donned your sleep clothes, too. you move forward, and he steps back, leaving room for you at the sink. the heels of your hands meet the cool ceramic of the sink as you lean against it, facing him from less than a foot away. the bathroom most definitely is not a generous size.

“hey,” you echo, voice just as soft as his. to him, you sound even more tired than usual. resigned, even. he’s trying to decide if you’ll respond decently to him asking if you’re okay. you speak again before he can decide. “spence?”

“yeah?” he wants to call you honey, but he doesn’t. but the way you say his name is begging for him to respond with equal sweetness and intimacy. or maybe honey is doubly sweet and intimate, but to him, your voice saying his nickname like that is the same as if you called him baby. he’s shy, but he wishes you’d call him that.

you look at him with sad eyes and he wishes that look would go away. i can’t get you out of my head, you want to say. “i’m tired,” is what comes out, anticlimactic and falling flat on the tile floor.

but his eyes fill with sympathy regardless and he gives a little frown on your behalf. even if you were going to say something else, the words that leave your lips are just as true. you are tired, very much so. not just from the case or the lumpy bed, but from everything, you suppose. it’s a bone deep type of exhaustion, and somehow your growing love for him is the only thing you can think about these days. it’s pressing to get out and make itself known, and now it feels heavy and oppressive.

“it’s been a long day,” spencer agrees. he knows how you feel, at least in terms of the exhaustions, and that it’s really not about just today. but he also knows that you know that, and that there’s not much to say. not right now, at least. it’s not the time for that sort of conversation, he can tell.

you swallow, suddenly nervous. you’re asking yourself why the hell you walked into this damn bathroom, put yourself so close to him without the option to actually close the distance. but you sort of just want to hug him. you want to get it off your chest, because you think it’ll make some of the exhaustion go away. though things could certainly get worse.

“i can’t get you out of my head, you know.” this time, the words slip out before you can stop them. you’re not sure if it’s the right thing to say, the right way to tell him, but you suppose the meaning is implied and that you’ve gone out and said it, finally. that makes your shoulders drop, and a relieved huff of breath leaves your lips. even if he doesn’t feel the same, at least you’ve said it.

most other days, spencer would’ve kissed you, maybe after clumsily telling you that he can’t get you out of his head either. but today, you’re sagging and tired, so he pulls you into his arms with a certain sort of ease that tells you he doesn’t mind being close to you. he likes it, even. he presses a kiss to the bare skin of your forehead, and that’s your answer. he’ll stay stuck in your head, but it will be far more bearable because he loves you back.

[ryescapades]

congrats on 1k!!! you deserve it so much xx

you know i'm gonna have to put in a request for your event :p

i'll take slice one with sae (what a surprise) with prompt 16 >:)

write whatever you feel is easiest, sfw would be cute but i certainly won't decline nsfw :x

again, congrats baby <3

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 16 - “do u want me on my knees?” characters: itoshi sae (bllk) x f!reader contents: suggestive, implied nsfw at the end, established rs, he calls u amor, reader wears a dress and strappy heels (oddly specific ik but it’s for the plot ..), slight hair pulling bcs yall are freaky wc ~ 1k (not proofread!)

a/n: LUMI BBG TYSM ILY LMK WHAT YOU THINK OF THIS (bcs i’m not entirely sure what you’re into) AND UHH i couldn’t decide between sfw and nsfw so this came out instead 🙂‍↕️

another one of those… tepid sports agents comes up to talk to you and sae’s eye all but twitches for the nth time.

stiffly tugging at his previously well-kept tie, it takes almost all his willpower to muffle the yawn that threatens to escape past his lips. he steps a tad bit closer to you, chest brushing against your bare shoulder as he shoves his hands inside the pockets of his slacks. narrowed aquamarine eyes gaze down at the woman who’s enthusiastically chatting with you as he dutifully stands by your side.

formal events like this somewhat bore him. there are too many flashing lights, too many blabbering mouths and scrutinizing eyes, and the worst of all, too many probing intents. he genuinely couldn’t stand those that don’t take his privacy seriously, especially when it affects you as well.

absently looking around the decorated hall, he takes note of the second ticking by where he can finally bring you back to the safety of your shared home. tick, tock, tick, tock– each one of it goes unnoticed by him. if he was sitting down, sae would’ve started bouncing his legs up and down as you continue to entertain all these nonsensical conversations.

his large hand lands on the middle of your back mid-talk, and you straighten up as warmth spreads throughout your skin. you peer back at sae, nodding slightly at him in a silent inquiry.

another discussion occurs between the both of you next, wordless and understanding in the way only your eyes hold all the things you want to say to each other. you then raise an amused brow when you take a second look at his appearance; his once messy hair looks even more disheveled than before, tie loose around his collar and lidded eyes looking all too uninterested with whatever the hell is going on in the event.

sae lightly pinches the side of your waist when he sees you on the verge of giggling like the menace that you are.

letting a little snicker out past your lips anyway, you turn back to the woman you were talking to minutes prior as you sense his simmering impatience. you swiftly say your goodbyes before grabbing sae’s hand, dragging him towards the hallways and opening the door to a smaller (and thankfully) vacant hall.

he’s ever so quick to close the door behind you, cornering you back against the surface as he towers over you. “thought we’re going back home?” sae asks, voice low and breathy as he idly plays with a loose strand of your hair between his fingers.

you throw him a pointed look, “we’re not even halfway into the schedule, why do you look so rumpled already?” his unkempt tie catches your eye once again, so you gingerly reach out to pull it loose before carefully redoing the knot for him. “and isn’t this event supposed to be for you athletes to mingle around?” you absently mutter, busy with the strip of fabric in your hands.

the distance between you is now barely existent. when you don’t get any response from him, you glance up at him thinking he was also looking at the tie, only to see that his eyes are simply gazing at you. bright oceanic hues closely examine your face, an odd look swirling in his eyes that has you fluttering down to the very pit of your stomach. 

you gnaw on your bottom lip as sae takes a bit longer to finally give you a reply. “the only mingling i’ll be doing today is the one that involves you and me,” he trails off, stopping for a brief second to glance down at your mouth. “... in bed.”

your breath stutters in your chest at his words. sae continues to stare down at you, as if waiting for you to cave in to his spell. a beat of silence passes. suddenly remembering a small, trivial detail, you then lean back more comfortably against the door before tipping your chin up at him.

“you know… relationships should be a two-way street,” you start, casually looking around the hall before subtly nudging one of your feet against his; the one where the straps on your heel are coincidentally loose. “i help you, and you help me.” you smile at him, eyes vivid and innocent as a doe.

two can play at this game.

raising his brow in suspicion at your overly saccharine tone, he takes a slight glimpse below before mildly rolling his eyes as he realizes what you’re insinuating. sae doesn’t back away from the close proximity as he murmurs against the minimal space between you two, “what? do you want me on my knees for you, amor?”

you ignore the shivers on your back at the way the raspy timbre of his voice curls on the petname, shrugging your shoulders in nonchalance.

for a second there, you’d thought that he wouldn’t go along with your schemes, but then you feel his hands settling on your hips before he eventually lowers down… down… and down, his touch slowly and torturously trailing along the side of your thighs while he keeps his gaze focused on you.

you’d almost failed to hold in the shameless whimper that threatens to spill from your mouth, desire licking at every little nerve inside of you at the sight.

and how could you not? seeing a proud, primarily arrogant man being eased down to the floor on his knees, looking up at you like you’re the only thing he has ever yearned and ached for in all his life. such immense satisfaction swells in your chest.

barely holding in the urge, you sift your fingers through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp with your nails before you pull. a small smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you purr, “good boy.”

sae curses, groaning deep in his throat, “fuck– you little minx.”

the next few minutes go by in a blur of gasping breaths and hungry licks, courtesy of him staying on his knees like you’d wished for as he makes you struggle standing on your own two feet, the thought of returning to the event now instantly thrown out of the window.

taglist open !

chat if you’re not into heels, imagine you’re wearing sneakers instead (atrocious ik but i’ve done it before and i kinda slayed the fit, funnily enough shfhsdh) so he’d be helping u with the shoelaces lol - a bit inspired from a tt i saw a few days ago :>

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[anomalyaly]

My New Dream

Tangled!AU AO3/Wattpad

CHAPTER 1 | Chapter 2

A Hogwarts Legacy/Tangled crackfic AU that started thanks to rambling and brain-rotting with some lovely friends over Discord, in which Sebastian is Flynn Rider and my OC Elsie is Rapunzel.

Basically, a writing exercise for me to get out of a slump and be silly and creative.

Alternate Universe | Short Story | Sebastian Sallow x F!MC | Third Person POV | 18+ Characters

CW: Mature for violence and character death, alcoholism, super mild sexual references, thievery, vandalism, general disregard for the law, and swearing. SFW.

None of this is meant to be taken seriously :)

This is the story of how Sebastian Sallow died.

Well, not completely. After all, if he had really and truly died, he wouldn’t have been able to tell this story in elaborate detail to the author who drafted it. In reality, this story is about a girl named Elsie.

It all began when a Great Event occurred — an odd power stirring in the lands. No one had heard of this power being wielded for centuries, a special type of ancient magic that created the infrastructure of the Kingdom of Hogwarts. That was until Sebastian stumbled upon this power completely by mistake after he committed what was only meant to be a harmless prank.

A harmless prank that involved stealing a precious artifact from the royal palace, but harmless nonetheless.

Sebastian justified it by reminding himself that it wasn’t as though someone with that much money would miss one measly relic made of magic sinister enough, that he could bribe anyone and their mother for whatever he wanted with it. After all, he was the Sebastian Sallow — the greatest known thief in the land, and one certainly not lacking in charm or good looks.

Thievery was what had gotten him into these situations, always on the run from the law, outwitting them at every turn with his cunning mind and tongue. It wasn’t a particularly difficult feat — most of the royal guards were daft as a brush anyway.

They couldn’t even get his nose right on their wanted posters.

Stumbling through a curtain of ivy as he escaped from the royal guard, Sebastian was surprised to find a wide clearing in the forest. In the distance stood a stone tower — an odd location, isolated from the rest of the kingdom in front of a waterfall. It had no windows or doors, save for one opening at the very top.

He knew all of the hidden corridors throughout the land better than any of those royal bastards ever could. So why was it that he had never seen this place before?

As with any undiscovered territory, the only thing left to do was to explore, as he had always done. He simply must know what lay hidden at the top of the tower — treasure, perhaps, or something even more interesting.

And so, he climbed.

He reached the top of the tower, panting as he dragged himself inside the sole window and slammed it shut, not bothering to check the room’s occupancy. It was too dark, anyway, and he was stealthy enough. He tore open his satchel to make sure the relic was still there. Finally, some peace.

That was until something hard collided with his head, and he was knocked out cold.

Uncertain of how much time had passed, Sebastian woke up in a daze, his head throbbing, the lights much too bright, and realized to his utter shock that he was tied to a chair.

What surprised him wasn’t the fact that he was bound and unable to move — it hadn’t been the first time he had found himself in a similar situation. It was the material of the bindings that caught him off guard. Not ropes, or chains, but a long bundle of hair.

A voice spoke from somewhere he couldn’t quite see. “I’m not afraid of you! You shouldn’t — shouldn’t be here!”

“What?” He blinked, trying to make out the shape of whoever was hiding. A woman?

The girl stepped out of the shadows, strange and wide-eyed, her long, brunette hair trailing behind her, her skin pale as if she had never been outside. She carried an air of naivety about her and, stranger still, she was brandishing none other than a frying pan for a weapon. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice that, despite the oddness of the situation, the young woman was beautiful.

Very, very beautiful.

“Who are you,” she enunciated, pressing the frying pan to his neck as if it were a knife, “and how did you find me?”

Sebastian blinked again, trying to get his bearings as yet another clever idea ran through his mind. He was young, charming, and, if he could say so himself, quite physically appealing. He only had to play his cards right, and women and men alike would fall at his feet, willing to give him whatever he asked for.

A smug grin crossed his face. “Well, hello there, sweetheart. Fancy meeting you here.”

To his dismay, the girl only stared at him, her expression unchanging besides a faint flicker of confusion. Odd. He had never received a reaction so lackluster from anyone.

“What do you want with my hair?”

“Your hair?!” Sebastian glanced around, realizing with deep concern that the waves of brunette went beyond him and weaved around the room. Long hair. Very long. If only he had his wand, he would be able to escape. And wandless magic wasn’t something he was keen on experimenting with now when he could injure someone who appeared so innocent. “The only thing I want with it is to get out of it!”

She gawked as if his statement made absolutely no sense. “You — don’t want my hair?”

“No!” he tried again. “Listen, my name is Sebastian Sallow, and I — “ Sebastian froze, suddenly aware that he was missing something else important. “Hang on, where — what did you — ?”

“Oh, your satchel?” The girl smiled coyly. “I’ve hidden it somewhere you’ll never find. Unless you agree to my terms.”

“Terms?!” Sebastian gritted his teeth. “Look here, sweetheart — “

“Elsie.”

“Bless you.” He shook his head and continued. “I’ve been in a bit of a…sticky situation. I saw your tower, and I climbed it.” He gave her a soft pout, feigning innocence. “I just really need that satchel.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, seeming to take him at his word. “Sebastian Sallow.” She spat out each syllable of his name as she paced around the room. “I have made the decision to trust you.”

“A horrible decision, really.”

“Here are my terms.” She pointed at a painting along the wall. “Do you know what these are?”

Sebastian squinted his eyes at the painting, which appeared to be a depiction of the floating lanterns from the royal festival. Each year, the King and Queen of Hogwarts would send a lantern up to the sky in honor of the lost princess. She had gone missing shortly after she was born, and the village would gather and float their lanterns in solidarity in hopes that one day, she would return home.

But what would this girl, locked away in her tower, want with them?

“The lantern festival?” He questioned. “The one they do for the princess?”

She grinned excitedly, and he assumed he must have said something correct. “I knew they weren’t stars!” She met his eyes and cleared her throat. “You will take me to them and return me home safely. And then I promise to return your satchel to you.” She stepped forward, her lithe form seeming more menacing while he was entangled in her hair. “And I never break my promises.”

“I’m not exactly…on good terms with the kingdom at the moment,” Sebastian muttered.

The girl shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose you don’t need your satchel that badly, then.”

He grumbled to himself. Fine. If that’s what it took to get back that relic, Sebastian reluctantly agreed. It shouldn’t be too difficult to bring one innocent girl to the kingdom to see some lanterns and return her home in one day, right?

Wrong.

He watched with disdain as the girl — Elsie — had several panic attacks and an existential crisis upon exiting her tower, flipping back and forth between excitement over her newfound freedom and horrified fear at disappointing her father. Moments later, she was sobbing beneath a tree, muttering to herself about how she needed to go back.

Perfect, Sebastian thought. He could convince her to turn around, let her out of the deal, and get his satchel back, returning to his normal life of theft and avoiding having to babysit this terrible mess of a human being.

He approached her tentatively, eying her as if she was a wounded animal. She sniffled and looked up at him. “Am I a terrible person?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, still leaning on the tree waiting for her panic to subside. “I’ve only picked up bits and pieces, with your overprotective father, forbidden road trip and everything. Serious stuff.” He nudged her gently. “But this is part of growing up. A little rebellion, a little adventure is normal!”

“Really?” Elsie rubbed at her nose. “You think so?”

“Of course!” Sebastian grinned mischievously, knowing that his tone was lost on her. “You’re completely overthinking this. I mean, would this break your father’s heart and crush his soul? Definitely.” He peeked at her from the corner of his eye. “But, you just have to do it.”

“Break his heart?” Elsie whimpered, pulling herself to her feet. “Oh…you’re right. He…he would be heartbroken.”

Sebastian inched closer to her and sighed dramatically, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he guided her back in the direction of her tower. All according to plan. “Alright, I can’t believe I’m saying this but…I’m letting you out of the deal. Let’s get you back home to your father. This way, I can get my satchel back, you don’t have to feel guilty, and we can part as unlikely friends.” He swung his arm in an exaggeratedly corny manner, both to soothe her worries and goad her into trusting his judgment.

“No!” Elsie shoved him aside, scrunching her face in irritation. “I’m seeing those lanterns!”

“Come on!” Sebastian pouted. “What’s it going to take for you to give me back my satchel?”

“Our deal,” she reminded him, and he gritted his teeth at her insistence. She grabbed him by the arm and yanked him through the forest. “Now, let’s go.”

~

It seemed that talking the girl into going back was out of the question.

Sebastian had never felt so terribly frustrated at trying to charm someone into doing what he wanted. It was apparent that all those years locked away in that tower had not only made Elsie incredibly naive but also horribly stubborn.

He had noticed how jumpy she had been. Somehow, he had to scare her back to her home. And he knew of the perfect place. A pub, The Hog’s Head, tucked away in a nearby town. It had a reputation for being the stomping grounds of the local ruffians and thugs, immersed in their brawling and drunken behavior.

Ashwinders, with nothing better to do but duel. Sebastian had visited once or twice to blow off some steam, earning himself a few galleons and a decent meal for a while. At least, until his wand was snapped by one of the royal assholes.

“Where are we?” Elsie eyed the place contemplatively.

Sebastian offered her his brightest smile. “Why, The Hog’s Head, of course! A long journey requires a proper meal.” He gestured to the pub. “And what better place to visit than this quaint little eatery — perfect for you. No trouble to be found here.”

“Well,” she seemed to relax at his prospect, “I suppose hogs can be…cute?”

“Excellent!” He slammed the door open. “Good afternoon, gentlemen! We will take your finest table, please!”

A strange sense of satisfaction coursed through him when he saw the girl gasp, her trembling form stiff as she swung her frying pan in front of her in self-defense. He held back an eye roll — as if that would do her any good here.

He could hold his own and ensure no harm would come to her — most of the regulars were brainless brutes. He only needed her to scare her into turning back. He grabbed her shoulders and guided her further into the tavern. “Ah, don’t lose your nerve now! I’m sure that smell is the stench of success!”

Elsie jumped, curling her bundle of hair into her arms, the frying pan still extended in front of her.

“You’re looking quite pale, sweetheart,” he said, feigning concern. “Maybe we should get you home after all.”

This is it! I’ve done it! He mentally cheered himself as he half-dragged her back to the door, murmuring reassurances, until he slammed face-first into it. A large, burly Ashwinder stood in front, blocking their exit and holding up a piece of paper.

Shit.

A wanted poster with his face on it — the nose still stupidly incorrect — dangled in the Ashwinder’s hand. “Is this you?”

“Uh— “ Sebastian grinned dumbly. “No?”

A few more Ashwinders stepped in and grabbed him by the arms. The one that had blocked their entrance — Hook, he mentally named him based on his hook hand — called for another one to fetch the palace guards. “That reward money is going to look really nice. Perhaps I’ll even be able to afford a golden hook.”

Sebastian yelped as yet another Ashwinder, Helmet, dragged him backward. “I could use the money!”

Another and another and another pulled his limbs in different directions, all insisting that they deserved to turn him in, to reap the rewards from his arrest. Elsie was lost in the crowd, but he could hear her screaming to free him.

Hook stepped in front of him, his wand at the ready, and Sebastian braced for the spell to strike when a loud noise resounded in the pub and the crowd froze.

“Put him DOWN!”

He stared in shock as the small, angry brunette girl stomped her foot and had the gall to shout at the group of very scary, powerful wizards. Oh no. No, no, what have you done.

Hook turned to her, and it was all Sebastian could do to not fight his way out, to do anything to step in and protect her. He had only wanted to scare her, not cause her harm.

“Listen to me!” She yelled, and he could almost feel the panic bubbling in her voice as she started to ramble. “I have no idea where I am, and he’s my guide, and I need him to take me to see the lanterns because it’s all I’ve ever dreamed about my entire life!”

Dear Merlin. The naivety of this girl was going to get them both killed.

As if to confirm his fears, Hook raised his wand at Elsie instead.

“Elsie, don’t!” Sebastian called out as another Ashwinder dangled him by the collar and hung him on some absurd poacher trophy like a coat on a rack. “Don’t anger them anymore! It’s not worth it!”

She held up her frying pan at Hook. “Come on! Haven’t any of you ever had a dream?! Don’t you know what that’s like?”

Hook closed in on her until he was face to face with the girl, and Sebastian held his breath as he waited for the words of the enemy’s spell to come. The Ashwinder opened his mouth and said, “I…had a dream once.”

She gaped at him, momentarily stunned by his response. “You — You have?”

“I did.” He nodded sagely as if whatever he was going to say was the most important piece of information the girl would ever hear in her life. “I…always wanted to be a pianist, playing for big crowds. But my hook hand scares them off.”

“Can I — “ Her gaze softened. “Can I hear you play something?”

Hook straightened, immediately intrigued by the girl’s proposition. “You want to hear me play?”

She swallowed. “O-of course.”

He took a deep breath and strode over to the rusty old piano that sat tucked in the corner of the bar, reserved for tavern singing nights that only happened whenever the group decided to get rip-roaring drunk. Which, in these cases, was nearly every day.

He plopped down and, with his hook hand, began to play his own rendition of what Sebastian vaguely recognized as a Mozart Sonata. His fingers expertly danced over the ivories while his hook trailed an angelic glissando above it. When he finished, Hook turned to Elsie for approval, and she applauded enthusiastically.

“That was beautiful!” She chirped.

Salazar save me.

Another Ashwinder, Big Nose, raised his hand. “I have a dream too!”

The girl sat down in a chair next to him, and Sebastian had a strange thought that she bore an odd resemblance to Father Christmas listening to young children ask for presents. “What’s your dream?”

He breathed a melancholic sigh. “I wish to find true love!”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and groaned, even though the young girl seemed to swoon at the idea.

The process continued endlessly, each of the Ashwinders, in turn, explaining what their dreams were — dreams of becoming a florist, an interior designer, a mime, a baker, a knitter, a tailor, one who wanted to stage his own puppet shows, and even one who was a collector — that is, of ceramic unicorns.

If Sebastian managed to make it out of there alive, he was never going to forget what he could have only described as the strangest moment of his life. And only an hour ago, he had been tied up in a young woman’s hair.

The same young woman who was seamlessly charming the pants off of every single man in the pub more easily than he had ever done with anyone. A young woman who was becoming increasingly intriguing to him the longer they spent at the pub. He wasn’t certain if he should be jealous or impressed.

She also appeared clueless to the effect she was having on everyone around her.

And then, as he still dangled from the antlers on the wall, the group turned to him.

“What’s your dream?” Hook sneered, harshly yanking him off of the antlers and setting him back down on the ground.

Sebastian scoffed and readjusted his outfit, his vest crooked from being dangled like a piece of meat. “Sorry. I don’t do all of this…lovey-dovey nonsense.”

The group simultaneously pointed their wands at him threateningly.

“Alright, alright!” He held up his hands in surrender. Fuck this adventure. “My dream? My dream is to bathe in endless piles of money.”

“Money?” Helmet’s gruff voice cut through the crowd.

Sebastian grinned. “Naked.”

The Ashwinders stared at him blankly, visibly unimpressed by his dream before looking at Elsie, who still sat innocently in a chair on the other side of the pub, although he thought he saw a flicker of amusement in her gaze. Or perhaps he was simply hoping. Tough crowd.

“And you?” Hook’s tone took on a gentler lilt as he looked at the girl.

She tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled as she stood. Sebastian would have found the innocent gesture endearing had he not been so stupidly irritated at the situation, the smell of grease and meat and manly sweat still wafting in the air. She proceeded to climb onto the bar and sighed dreamily, the flowery presence she carried herself seeming starkly out of place in the run-down pub.

“My dream is and always has been to see the floating lanterns. It’s all I’ve wanted since I was a little girl and used to watch them from the distance in my tower. All I want to do is be able to see them up close.”

The room burst into awwww’s and Sebastian pouted in irritation, crossing his arms and trying to ignore the surge of jealousy that rose in him as her dream received more accolades from the band of buffoons in the Hog’s Head than his. Strangest day of his entire life.

It was only about to get stranger.

The door burst open, interrupting the sickly sweet chatter with an air more sinister. The Ashwinder that Hook had sent to alert the law had returned. “The palace guards are here!”

Fuck!

Sebastian ran to the opposite side of the room and dragged Elsie away, tucking himself behind the bar as he did and pulling her close to him. He held a finger to his lips in warning — if they were caught, the whole adventure would be over, and he would be sent away to Azkaban to rot. Pointless, forbidden road trip or otherwise, he was not going to end up there.

He cursed silently to himself as the Captain of the Guard, Ominis Gaunt, burst into the entrance. Of all the people —

“Where’s Sallow?!”

The room fell silent, and Gaunt’s footsteps echoed closer to the bar they hid behind. “I know he’s in here. I can sense it.” Sebastian could hear the scowl in his voice. “Turn this place upside down if you have to, but he will be found and apprehended.”

Shit shit shit. He wouldn’t have been so worried if it wasn’t for the fact that the Captain of the Guard was blind. One would assume it would make him unqualified, though anyone who made the mistake of underestimating him ended up dead. The man was cunning, unnervingly aware of more than the average person could sense. The wand he carried was nearly sentient, whispering secrets that only he could hear. Or at least, that’s what was rumored.

Ominis Gaunt hadn’t become Captain of the Guard without reason.

He needed to get them out of here and fast. Sebastian glanced around them, looking for a secret way out, when he jumped as something metal touched his shoulder. Hook was curled next to him, silently gesturing with his eyes to follow closely behind.

Abso-fucking-lutely not. But what choice did he have? Trust the hook-handed Ashwinder or be dragged away by the Captain of the Guard himself?

He supposed he had done stranger things in his life. Actually, no, he hadn’t. But today couldn’t be any weirder, so he decided to play along. He turned his head back to Elsie and mouthed, “Follow me.”

Somewhere in the back of the bar, Hook tugged on one of the taps, and a secret entrance in the floor dropped open.

“Go,” he whispered. “Live your dream.”

Sebastian beamed proudly. “I will.” He wasn’t dying or going to Azkaban today.

Hook grimaced at him. “Your dream stinks. I was talking to her.”

Great. Sebastian frowned and slid down into the secret entrance, glad to be out of the stupid tavern where clearly nobody there had taste.

“You coming, sweetheart?” He called up to Elsie.

She nodded and turned to Hook. “Thank you. For everything.” She squeezed the Ashwinder’s non-hook hand before sliding down after Sebastian. A dark passageway stretched out in front of them without any end in sight — they had a long way to go to escape.

Better than being stuck in The Hog’s Head, he supposed.

[sakumz]

____________________________________________

[ m. reo x fem reader ]

____________________________________________

" so, this is where you've been hiding? " reo says when he found nagi sitting in one of the tables you set at the cooking classroom.

as president of the cooking club, you were allowed to use the room freely whenever you wanted.

" reo? " nagi calls as you turn to the purple haired boy at your door. reo can't help but feel the sense of home with you wearing the cute apron. a blush makes it's way to your face, you quickly turn around to resume cooking. turning off the heat from the stove and quickly plating. reo makes his way to sit opposite nagi. they seemed too invested in their batter that they don't notice you standing with the plate of food.

clearing your throat, the boys glace at you as you put the plate down. a force smile on your face.

reo winces at the food. the colours looked off if that was even possible. you call that edible food? how'd you even become the president of the cooking club. he looks over at nagi and he doesn't seem one bit digusted or even slightly. he watch as his friend take the first bite, his face unchanging. was it that bad he had to force a poker face to not break your heart?

" what's wrong, reo? " nagi questions before taking another spoonful of the fried rice. you can't help but let worry bite you bit by bit.

" do you... want me to feed you or something? " you can't help but turn away at the words that spill out of your mouth. you take the spoon from reos side and scoop the rice before eating it. it wasn't that bad, if he think you put poison in it then you'll certainly die right now.

he watches as you beam a smile at the food. you take another spoonful when you see him looking at you. you push the spoon towards him as he hesitantly opens his mouth and you're quick to push the spoon in. he chokes from the intrusion but swallows the rice nonetheless. suprised it wasn't so bad. you could replace the chefs in the mikage building with your cooking. the food looks unappetising but the taste was exquisite. he takes the spoon from your hand and start to devour his plate.

" y/n senpai! " a junior barges in with a paper at hand. he shoves the paper in your face as you scan it over and over.

right... the school was going to host an open house for the next freshmen. clubs are meant to plan what they were going to showcase and this junior already started planning the menu.

" um vice president said we're going to do a maid cafe theme... she also wanted you to check out the menu, said it's food you've cooked for her before. " you nod in understandment.

" what are these two doing here by the way, senpai? " the junior whispers as you can't help but giggle.

" they're my food connoisseurs. "

that was the first time reo met you and to say the least nagi didn't tell him why he was there. you were their classmate but you were barely in the classrooms. you managed to score well and maintain your grades. when you do attend classes, your classmates stared and treated you normally? he sees girls coming up to you with treats asking for advice on how to better the taste and he sees guys making jokes about getting Valentine's chocolate from you when the event was so far from coming back.

nagi doesn't speak much about you even if reo asked questions about you, the only answer he got was to ask you himself.

when the school open house came around. reo quickly dragged nagi out of the classroom to your club. some members dressed in maid dresses or suits and others in shirts that branded the clubs name. reo hoped to see you in a maid dress.

" welcome master, " a forced girly voice was heard, as a member bowed to reo and nagi.

looking in, reo was surprised. a very handsome butler was seated in one of the tables with many girls swarming him. girls holding out their spoon or fork with dessert, ready to feed him.

that male was you. you can't help but squirm under their attention.

" ahem, ladies. those desserts were made out of love, please enjoy them. " you announce as you push your glasses up from your face. standing up but the girls around you don't seem to buy it as they held your shoulders pushing you back down.

" are you reo mikage? " the vice president from the club calls from behind the boys as they turn. reo nods as nagi walks away, taking a vacant seat and playing his game as a waiter pushes a cup of lemon tea over.

" please save our president from the guests, it was nice to watch and be swoon but now... it's unsightly, " reo nods once more before making his way to you.

he grabs your arm and before you can comprehend anything he pushes you up.

" sorry ladies, we have something to do! " he calls back as he sprints for the door with you following behind.

everyone turn to look at each other. shock and surprise splattered everywhere, only a few seem unaffected, thanking reo but some were pissed at him for stealing the handsome butler.

" do you think reo is into him too? " one started and many continued. nagi can't help but listen in.

reo lead you to the roof. finally able to catch your breath, you loosen the tie as reo gazed at you. your hair sticking to your forehead, your low ponytail now loose and messy.

" I'm sorry, " he blurts out as you stare at him, not expecting the sudden apology.

" you're a mess because of me. " you can't help but laugh.

" I'm sorry too. you can't enjoy those food because of me, " reo frowns.

you take a seat as you lean against the rooftop fence. reo following suite.

" well even if I can't enjoy them now, I'm sure you'll make it up to me by cooking for me. " he suggested as you're stunned by him.

was the heir always so greedy and thick skinned? that's not true but it seemed like it.

" well whatever you want for saving me, prince charming. " you giggled as reo blush at the nickname.

[mxltifxnd0m]

you did what? ── . ✶ sam and dean winchester

summary: dean has the bright idea to play never have i ever

pairings: platonic winchesters x afab bi! reader, implied past! ruby x afab! reader warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', reader is afab but no pronouns are used, fluff, humor, drinking, mentions of sex, reader is bisexual, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own word count: 2.0K a/n: was supposed to be a silly blurb but its a one shot lol. also this is so self indulgent lmaoo and i was talking about this with mari on the phone, i just love bi!reader fics and shocking the winchesters with information i also love love ruby and i need to write her so bad so if any one wants me to to write the aforementioned event mentioned i will LOL winchesters masterlist

YOU HONESTLY DON’T know how you got here. Well, you do, but you’re slowly regretting your decision to ever befriend the Winchesters, wanting the ground to swallow you whole as they stared at you incredulously. But it wasn’t your fault that their dad would use your Mom’s house as a dumping ground for the two of them when he was on a hunt in your state. While your Mom graciously took them in every time, you knew, even from a young age, that she had her gripes with the elder Winchester, who dragged his kids across the country hunting monsters. 

Growing up with the Winchesters was certainly interesting. You liked hearing the stories that Dean would tell you and Sam about hunting since your Mom retired as soon as she had you. You remember any time that they came over, the three of you were like peas in a pod (your Mom’s words, not yours) and would play and mess with each other each chance you got (typically, it was Sam and you versus Dean most of the time).

As the three of you got older, you saw each other less. Still, you tried to keep in contact—but eventually, Sam went to college, and you guys stopped talking to each other altogether. Until they ran into you on a hunt while trying to find their dad. After the hunt, you guys reconnected at the bar in town and traded numbers. 

Throughout the years, you would run into them on hunts and help them out if they needed it as their lives increasingly became crazier and crazier. 

Currently, you were sat at the map table next to Sam and across from Dean in the bunker that they had found due to their grandfather coming from the past looking for John (which was the weirdest thing that they told you when they invited you for the tour of their home base, but then again, weird is normal for those two). The three of you were having a lazy day due to there being nothing in the news that seemed to be your brand of weird and would warrant the three of you to have left the bunker.

You spent most of the day lounging in the clothes you slept in. After dinner, Dean pulled out his good scotch and three glasses, poured each of you a healthy amount, and started to talk about old hunts and reminiscing on the past. You were about a glass in, now on your second one, when Dean suggested that the three of you play Never Have I Ever, which Sam protested against. When Dean looked at you for the tiebreaker, you shrugged, saying why not since you had nothing better to do. 

Dean grinned at you and sent a smug look to his brother while Sam rolled his eyes at him. 

The questions were pretty tame until they started to venture into the types of conquests that either of you three had throughout the years, which made you learn a little too much about their sex lives (you already knew enough about Dean’s, but now you had to hear Sam’s which was very interesting, to say the least). 

Dean had just finished taking a sip of his dwindling glass. “Okay, my turn.” He had a mischievous glint in his eye as he shot a look at his brother.

“Never have I ever slept with a demon.” Dean had an arrogant smile on his face as he leaned back in his chair. 

The question was clearly a dig at his brother, to which Sam had scoffed and shook his head. Sam lifted his glass off the table and took a healthy sip of it before putting it back down. His brows furrowed when he saw Dean’s mouth agape in shock. He glanced at you, setting your drink down on the table as well. 

Sam looked at you, confused as to why you took a drink before it hit him, his confused expression morphing into one that mirrored his brother’s. 

You felt warm, slightly embarrassed by their gazes on you. You knew that this was the reaction they would have toward you, but it still didn’t feel the best. 

“Wh-what? When? How?” Dean sputtered out as he looked at you like you were crazy. 

Sam stayed silent, the questions flooding his brain, but Dean had vocalized most of them for him. 

You cleared your throat. “Well, I think it’s my turn anyway. So never-” 

“Nope, we’re not playing until you answer the question.” Dean cut you off and stared at you intently. 

“It’s not any of your business, Dean.” You said through gritted teeth, wanting to move on from the conversation. 

“If you don’t tell us, I’m just going to assume the worst and think you slept with Crowley.” Dean pointed at you before taking a sip of his drink. 

Your face screwed up in disgust. “EW! No, I didn’t sleep with Crowley. I’d rather be chewed up by a wendigo than even kiss him.” 

“Did you know they were a demon before sleeping with them?” Sam questioned. 

You whipped your head to stare at Sam in disbelief. “Really Sam?” 

He shrugged. “Sorry, but can’t blame me for being curious. You’re the last person I’d expect to sleep with a demon.” 

“Has anyone told you curiosity killed the cat?” You snarked as you narrowed your eyes at the shaggy-haired man.

“Yeah, well, satisfaction brought it back.” Sam quipped back as he shot you a smug smile, and you were debating on escaping to your room, but you knew that they would not give up the interrogation until you told them. 

You let out a defeated sigh, leaning back in your seat. “Yes, I knew they were a demon before I slept with them.” 

“Okay, who was it? Was it anyone we knew?” Dean asked. 

You sighed before nodding. You took a sip of your drink before glancing at Sam. “Uh, it was Ruby.” You mumbled into the rim of your glass. 

Neither man heard you. “Sorry, we didn’t exactly hear that.” Sam said. 

Dean nodded. "Wanna say it louder for the the two of us?"

You scrunched your nose, placing your glass on the table. “I slept with Ruby.” You said louder than before, avoiding their gazes. 

Both men were rendered speechless. You and Ruby infamously didn’t get along. There was an animosity between the two of you from the moment you spotted the brunette in Sam’s room when Dean came back from Hell.

Yeah, Sam tolerated her most of the time, and Dean didn’t trust her at all and kept her as far away from him as he could, but the two of you butted heads like no other. There were a couple of times when they thought you were going to kill her, but apparently, that wasn’t the case. 

Dean opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, trying to find any words to say before shutting it. 

“Oh." Sam cleared his throat. "But I thought the two of you hated each other?" 

“We definitely did.” You nodded. “But, it was only once. Well, maybe it was like a couple of times actually now that I’m thinking about it.” 

Dean looked at you wide-eyed. “I have so many questions.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Just ask them.” You wanted this conversation to be over and done with. 

“How did it even happen the first time?” 

“Do you remember that haunting a couple of hours away from Bobby’s place? In Topeka?” You asked them, trying to jog their memory. 

“Not really.” 

“Well, the two of you were a little busy with the seals so I went and checked it out and I wrapped it up pretty fast. But when I went back to my motel room after burning the bones, she was there.” 

You remember it like it was yesterday. You were exhausted from digging up the grave, used to having one of the boys helping you, or even better, they were doing it while you held the flashlight. But they stayed behind at Bobby's. So you were left to do it yourself. You were tired and covered in dirt, and all you wanted to do was shower and fall face-first into the rickety motel bed and sleep for twenty hours. 

But when you opened the door, you saw the irritating smirk stretched on Ruby’s lips as she sat at the table near the kitchenette in the room you were staying in. 

“She was being annoying as per usual and I was trying to get her out of my room, but then of course she had to provoke me and we started to argue, then the next thing I knew, I had her pinned against the wall and kissing her. And you can probably guess the rest.” You scratched the back of your neck sheepishly as you looked down at your almost empty glass, avoiding the burning stares of the Winchesters. 

You decided to down the rest of the liquid in your cup before placing it on the table. You looked at Dean to see a faraway look in his eyes, and you squinted at him before realizing what he was doing. 

“Hey!” You clapped your hands to try and snap him out of his daydream. “Stop imagining it dude, that’s gross, not to mention really weird.” 

You shook your head and glanced at Sam to see the same look on his face. Then, you scowled at him, snapping your fingers in front of his face as well. 

“Are you kidding me Sam?” 

Sam blinked and shook his head, having the decency to look apologetic. “Sorry, it’s just…” He trailed off. 

“It’s hot. You know, that you and Ruby fu-” 

“Finish that sentence Dean and I swear that I’ll make sure that you’ll have a black eye in the morning.” You cut him off as you glared at the man sitting across from you. 

Dean raised his hands in defense. “I was just saying. Besides Sammy here was thinking about the same thing, probably even more considering he slept with her too.” 

“Shut up Dean.” Sam shot a scowl at his brother. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me you actually were though.” 

Sam’s silence spoke volumes, and you just shook your head at him. 

“So, are we done with this interrogation or can we continue on with this stupid game.” 

“One more question.” 

You groaned at Dean’s words. “What is it?”

“Did she ever tell you who was better in bed, You or Sam?”

“Really Dean?” Sam sighed tiredly (but secretly, he wanted to know).

You couldn’t help the smirk on your face at the question before you shook your head and got rid of it. “Not gonna answer that one.” 

Dean grumbled before finally moving on from the subject. The three of you stayed up pretty late before you retired for the night. You were about to get into bed after getting ready to sleep, but there was a soft knock on your door. You padded over to it and opened it to see Sam in the entryway. 

“What’s up Sam?” You asked softly, wondering why he was at your door this late. 

He looked a little nervous as he ran a hand through his hair. “Did she actually tell you?” 

You furrowed your brows. “Who?” 

“Ruby.” He murmured. 

Oh. Oh. You sent him a playful smile. “Why? Did you want to compare notes?” You teased, and you could see the slight blush grow on Sam’s face. 

Sam started to stammer, and you couldn’t help but laugh gently at him. You reached out and rested a hand on his arm to stop him from stuttering out a useless excuse. 

“She never told me who was 'better'. Ruby never stayed long after we would sleep together.” You told him with a slight smile on your face. 

He nodded in understanding, his shoulders relaxing at your answer. You squeezed his arm before telling him ‘goodnight,’ and he did the same before walking down the hall towards his room. You closed your door and smiled to yourself. 

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

[join my taglist !; read rules before sending in an ask]

[singt0me]

2024 writing year in review

tagged by my loves @hartigays & @nix-nihili (on my other blog @e-payne but imma just do this here)

(spoiler it's all DBD lmao the special interest hit HARD and she's still hitting)

June

it's a one way ticket to a madman's situation: DBD, Catcrow (T)

The Cat King says, “You could always stay with me. No, really. There’s plenty of room, it’s warm, and there’s lots of entertainment.” He grins at whatever expression Monty’s face has pulled itself into, all white teeth. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman, of course. Tell you what – I will happily take the couch for a while until you get settled in.” Monty says, “Let me think about it,” and turns and walks away. (After Esther Finch, Monty flies into the woods to find himself and ends up finding himself a new body.)

2. I can't sleep (In my head, we belong): DBD, Catcrow (E)

The Cat King barely flounders. “Cross my heart, hope to die.” “Don’t tease me,” Monty says. (Or: The little crow wakes up in the Dreaming.)

August

ghost in the mirror: DBD, Payneland (T)

Charles knows it isn’t possible—incorporeal disposition and all—but Charles dove head first into Hell and managed to blow up a demon with a Molotov cocktail less than a year ago, so with that logic it could very well be possible that Charles’ long dead heart starts to beat again. It certainly feels like it is racing out of his chest, slowly crawling up the column of his throat. The wrongness of the haunted look in Edwin’s eyes swims in the forefront of his mind, and something in him already knows. (Or: a new case leads them someplace far too familiar for Edwin, full of more than just ghosts.)

2. move out day: DBD, Payneland (T)

Edwin is saying, “I don’t believe anything in here will have any arcane value, seeing as it is quite further away from the main epicentre of activity, and I doubt—” Charles flicks an ugly bronze vase utilised as a paperweight and watches as it sings and changes colour to bright turquoise. Charles laughs and collects the little vase, spinning around to wiggle it at Edwin’s dumbfounded face. “Never say never, love. We’re keeping this one.” (Okay, so maybe they do make out in Edwin's childhood bedroom.)

September

Prologue: DBD, Payneland (T)

Charles looks him dead on, deep brown eyes shining. The mid-morning sun accents the striking features of his annoyingly perfect face, and Edwin digs his heels in. The anger over the whole situation outweighs the niggling desire to point-blank stare at Charles’ six-foot-one frame, all bed-head and boxer shorts, but only just. At the end of the day, Edwin is, by every definition of the word, a professional. (Or: the recording artist/manager au)

October

Like a record, baby: DBD, Payneland (T)

Charles’ crush on Edwin is starting to get a little out of hand. Turns out the internet is just as enamoured as he is. (Or: the one where Edwin accidentally goes viral after a couple of very confused photographers take some photos of him at an event. As one does.)

2. rule three, subpoint four: DBD, Payneland (M)

Edwin and Charles attempt to operate business as usual during the honeymoon phase.

November

Stay The Night: DBD, Payneland (E)

“Okay.” Charles laughs, breathy, and his eyes twinkle when he says, “I’ll be good.” A heat rises below the collar of Edwin’s shirt. Behind the tinted windshield, the waves crash on the shore. (Charles becomes a constant in Edwin's life.)

2. cinnamon, spice, and tangerine: DBD, Payneland (G)

After the fifth completed circuit of the greenhouse, Edwin starts to feel a bit ridiculous.

Tagging (no pressure): @persnickett @seaselkie @newtmsa @c-rowland @tumblerislovetumblerislife @paraphwrites @tragedy-machine @dear-lucrow @dear-monday 

[from-ultra-space]

Greetings, Nori Phoris! This is Curator Tero of the Ultra Recon Squad and the @anomaly-sanctum! Might I ask that you tell your partner, Ulva Cassius, contact me in private at her earliest convenience?

It has come to my attention that she may be doing research in regards to something that I have also been researching, and would very much like to discuss the matter with her.

Apologies for having to contact you in this manner, I was unsure what the best way to get ahold of her was.

//Translation: I know she's poking her nose in someone else's business but unfortunately for her that's also MY business (this is related to that @/profchamomile ask lmao)

Tero, it is a pleasure to hear from you! I will be certain to relay your message, although I am not sure how much it will help you. My partner’s research is strictly confidential, given how active and dangerous it is. Really, she shou-

Don’t worry too much about it Nori. I will make sure to keep to protocol as much as I can. Besides, I don’t even know if I’m still on that mission. I’ve got it covered. …He’s disappointedly shaking his head at me now. Why don’t we talk properly in URS private correspondence? (//just use discord) Conversing on a secure channel would certainly be better than rotomblr.

[mismatchedtwins]

Mismatched Twins - Take Six

Leon barely has time to blink.

Everything happens in a blur that's overlapped by blazing pain. He barely manages to get his hands on his odachi before he’s looking up and the Guy’s just gone. Dragged into the pitch black.

He can't act. He doesn't have the time to even think. The turtle's gone and he's alone and the vines are coming back for him.

His heart lurches to his throat. He turns and flees, grasping the grapple as it suddenly clicks and whirls. The thrusting vines come inches from his skin before he's launched far out of their reach.

He shoots up and watches as they merge into the black.

As soon as he reaches the top, Leo claws for a hold so he can climb over the edge and onto the flat surface.

He leaves the grapple and his sword, every inch of him trembles as he frantically scrambles away from the opening.

His chest burns where the turtle had fallen on him and his vision sways from the pain. He waits for the vines to follow him up and take him to the same place that they took the turtle. He jumps as a scream echoes from the black void down below and he clamps his hands over his head on instinct, kicking backward into the wall.

The screams continue. They get louder. And then they stop.

All Leon can hear is the sound of his own hysterical breathing.

What did he do? What did he do?

He left someone to die that's what he did.

His knees close against his chest. His hands move to cover his mouth. The guilt throbs like a gong. Or maybe that's his heart.

Leo looks at the opening. No motions. No sounds.

He doesn't know what to do.

The guy saved his life. And he let him walk into a den of death.

That's some way to return the favor.

Hysteria tries to lock in at the thought. A puff of air hits his palms, laughter too strained to be real. It wasn't funny. Nothing about this is funny. His nails bite into his cheeks. Leo let him die.

No. He doesn't know that. He might not be dead. Krang's vines didn't kill them. They held them captive. He could be alive.

Leo has to believe that. Leo has to save him.

He has to get back down there. But how?

Whether the vines were sleeping or using the element of surprise, they won't be this time. They'll sense him before he can even get through the tunnel. Once again, his ninpo sparks with life and he catches it, keeping it safely contained. It sputters in the cage, alive despite everything, offering to keep him safe and strong, like it had with any and every other danger.

He can still feel the burning through his skin back at the ship, an electrifying, powerful sensation that eradicated the vines from his system and surroundings in one swift blaze.

His marks flicker and Leon fiercely shoves the power back in the metal box where it can't extinguish itself. He feels the weakness bear down on him without it, but he drags himself to his feet because sitting around shaking sure isn't saving anybody.

Every breath hurts. He fights past it.

Leon takes out the phone that he'd shoved in his belt and shines it down below. His skin crawls when he sees that some of the vines are still slithering about, tangling underneath the dead ones. Some are retreating through the tunnel, lethargically slow now that there isn't someone to chase.

Right. They're alive. But.

What about the ones that... Aren't?

Leo looks to the vines that he used to get down. They looked- pretty alive? He wasn't really a vine expert. But they hadn't made any moves to attack either of them at any point, so even though all the vines look the same, something about them had to be different.

He could probably use the boring vines to get back down without alerting any of the evil vines. What does he do if they do notice him?

For a long moment, he looks down the drop.

"Yep. This is a terrible idea."

With that decided, he turns and walks in the opposite direction.

If he was smart, he wouldn’t have returned.

But he does. Because the turtle is indubitably alive.

And there's only one way to prove that he's right.

Though, quitting would have been easier.

Instead, he takes a very exhausting hike to grab what he needs.

He breaks to catch his breath and rubs his plastron until the ache is manageable. Then he drags the large sheet metal to the edge and lets it drop. It lands and he winces, waiting for his estimation to be wrong and the vines to react. They do not. He smirks.

He picks up the grapple and his odachi.

And then he starts trimming the walls. After a few handfuls are tossed, he dusts off his hands in satisfaction.

Heading to the familiar vine, he grabs onto it and heads down.

He can't believe he's actually doing this. It must be all that hero talk.

Raph is rubbing off on him in the worst ways lately.

His heart aches when he realizes that he'd never get the chance to tell him. No more sibling shenanigans. No hoarding his highest stack win over Donnie's head. No bite-the-pizza games. No more pizza.

He tries to block the notion. He focuses on deciphering where the dead vines and living vines might be. He reaches the bottom, feet resting on the only safe space, pressed against the cold metal. He takes the phone from his mouth, pausing when he looks forward and realizes that there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

He blinks, "Gram-Gram?"

Karai doesn't respond. The light is a strange orange color. It only reveals the end of the path and the tall stalks in the room. His heart races as a vine slithers right below him.

"If I should not go into the light, some better tell me now.”

The only sound is the soft shuffle of vines.

“Okay." He exhales. "Going into the light it is."

He notices the one that he's currently using as a rope doesn't travel down the tunnel like the others. It inserts into the wall.

He shrugs it off and then gets on his knees. He snatches pieces of boring vines littered over the metal and throws them, noting each time the vines react. They don’t seem to mind the random pieces of dead relatives, merely curling around them passively.

Snatching several for the road, he tucks the slimy things into his belt, shuddering at the feeling against exposed skin, and takes a deep breath. He stretches out, setting his foot on a patch that isn't restless. The vines keep shuffling around like he doesn't exist.

He shifts his weight and then releases the vines to plant both his feet into another assumably dead spot.

He doesn't move. One of the vines pulls back down the tunnel.

They must not think anyone would be crazy enough to return.

Too bad they're dealing with the one and only Leonardo Blue Splinterson. Crazy is basically a part of the Hamato package.

Empowered by his obvious superiority, he heads through the tunnel.

He ends up doing a couple flips and handstands when the distance is too long or the vines get too close to his position. His heart thuds with the adrenaline of success, acting as his own cheering squad under his breath. It almost sounds like breathless static, but he refrains from going any higher.

It could ruin the perfectly dramatic musical soundtrack that must be playing in his background. Then where would he be?

Just doing gymnastics in a silent tunnel. Boring.

He winces as he enters the suspicious light, looking up towards the source. There isn't one. The roof simply seems to be glowing.

A solid thud reverberates through the room and his phone slips from his fingers. He frantically grabs it and smashes it against his chest before it can land. He eyes the vines that are doing their best snake impressions. He'd have to give them an 8 out of 10.

They seem a bit to tentacle-lly for his tastes.

Leo makes his way to the sides of the room and then sets his attention on searching for the missing turtle. All the vines seem very interested in only one of the stalks, swimming and weaving in a highly conspicuous way.

"Yeah, he's totally in there."

He gets out his odachi and begins to make his way across the room. The thud repeats and he watches the large mass that the turtle had been interested in contract and then expand.

Weeiiiiiird.

He stops under the stalk. He has to move fast.

The moment that he touches it; he'll be the next prey.

So he turns to the stalk beside it and climbs to the top. He perches there, hanging from mismatched stitching, and tosses his sword lightly. He takes a breath. It lands in tight fingers.

Leo kicks his body forward, slices through the wiggling life, and then grasps his sword tight as vines shoot for him. He curves away from them, watching as they embed in the stalk behind him.

He uses the one over his head to pull himself up, swinging his weight onto his hilt. He catches his balance and swiftly moves for the new opening in the stalk. He yanks the blade out once he's steady and turns to retrieve the waiting turtle.

Only to pause when he’s faced with his failure.

There are too many vines. They’ve injected themselves into so many places where vines are definitely not supposed to be and there’s a big nasty one in his neck. Leon has no idea how he’s supposed to get them out of him without some serious surgery that he does not know how to do and absolutely should not be doing at any point, especially not in an unsterilized, filthy, deadly prison dimension.

He hesitates too long.

The vines latch onto his legs. He stabs down, only for them to shoot out from beside him and insert into his arm. He cries out at the pain that radiates from the area, swinging the blade as his ninpo flares in panic. He can still feel the vine under his skin, vile and unmoving as he ducks one aimed for his skull. Two more vines pierce, stealing his attention so more can firmly snatch his legs.

The heavy, echoing thud swallows his cry.

The energy pulses across his skin, tiny sparks that dance along the vines and beg for the freedom to act. It spreads comforting heat that flickers a glow over his marks and he knows that he could transport away if he only wants to- think of one place, a single haven, and trust trust trust trust it’ll get him there. A brief burst, a final escape, all he needs to do is want to want to need to leave-

Blue crawls along his body. Fingers dig into the vines. NO-

“-AHHHH!”

He screams as they crawl deeper, hatred and fear buzzing in his chest, before something hits the back of his neck. He falls forward as he's shoved further in, unable to move or think or breathe, catching himself on the suspended turtle's plastron-

His ninpo pops, and the turtle jerks, and energy flares up Leo’s arm to mix with the oh-so-giddy whirl of electricity. Then heat darts across his flesh, sparking outward, and the vines explode.

He gasps in a burst of air as a thrill hits his body and pain becomes meaningless as his ninpo begs- pleads- push back.

So he collects the buzzing energy that’s humming and dancing and His but also Not and hopes that he knows what he’s doing when he focuses on getting it out.

His arms are sparking blue but the turtle’s arms are glowing before it hits his chest and the rest of his body joins the party. His eyes snap open, a blank, burning white with blue barely shimmering underneath, and Leo’s jaw drops as it fires outward, eradicating the vines and the stalk. They free fall and more vines shoot up.

His ninpo swirls and cheers as Leo grabs the lifeless arm and his sword pops into his other hand as he declares, “HOT SOU-!”

FLASH.

Comforting heat surrounds him and energy zips through his veins.

This is right, but something about it feels wrong.

The portal spits them out like old gum.

Leo hits the ground with a gasp. He releases the turtle to scan the perimeter, ready for another threat to rear it’s head. He doesn’t remember where he was thinking of going when they ran.

Apparently, it was about the entrance to their personal death trap.

At least it’s somewhere familiar?

The Krang creature is still limp on the ground where they left it.

Leo looks back down the tunnel, completely ready to be swarmed by vengeful vegetation.

Silence echoes back to him. He blinks, cautious.

Oh man. Oh geez. He’s alive. He’s actually alive!

Leo scoots back until his shell knocks the wall.

His ninpo refuses to acknowledge the new adrenaline drained exhaustion, spinning and buzzing and searching? with a giddy joy that is incredibly inappropriate for the less immediate but still continuing crisis that he’s dealing with.

Additionally frustrating, “YOU HAVE NINPO?!”

The turtle, who is likely still unconscious, does not answer.

So Leo stands shakily, turns on his flashlight, and stomps over to the limp body to kick his leg with a reasonable force.

The turtle doesn’t stir. He kicks him a second time. “Oh-ho, we are going to have a talk when you wake up!”

In retrospect, the threat was probably a bad idea. It would only give him more ammunition to stay under. That’s probably why he spent the next eternity sleeping like a dead person. Yep. Indubitably.

He’s might be playing dead, but it’s not good enough.

His stubborn heartbeat gives away the truth.

Leon stays by his side, staring out into the nothing in the distance. He drums his fingers against his legs, letting himself have the moment to breath through the permanent ache in his chest.

After a couple minutes of literally nothing happening, Leo gives into the prodding of his ninpo. He reaches out a hand, finger tips on the turtles arm. He doesn't know what he expects. Nothing happens.

The turtle remains prone and none of the earlier lights reappear. Yet Leo knows that flakes of his own ninpo now rest inside of this turtle.

He can feel them like Donnie's tech can sense the trackers that he so rudely implanted in his family, only Leo's wasn't intentional and probably didn't work that way. His ninpo pulsates warmth at the connection, but it's not real. It's not bred off love or trust or years of growth and loyalty. If anything, he forced it on him.

This could have repercussions. This could be so bad.

But Leo's ninpo feels stronger now. Not powerful or amazing or godly, but stronger. It beams at the connection, humming with a new energy that it's never felt before. He doesn't feel empty.

Selfishly, he realizes, he doesn't regret it.

He pulls his hand away. His ninpo quiets obediently.

The silence rings when he allows himself to settle, drilling relentlessly into his brain. Since there's no one to talk to, he talks to himself, walking his brain through the lyrics of a song that he can't quite place. His fingers drum the beat against the air.

It's some lovesick break-up song that Donnie hates, which is actually a hard accomplishment, so it's a shame that he let the words slip through his fingers. When did that happen? When did he, Leo, get to busy to remember the top ten ways to annoy Donnie?

He should probably know. He knocks his lower palm into his head.

Oh! He snaps triumphantly. That's it! Before Shredder! He became leader and-

And. He ran out of time to focus on things like that. Annoying Raph became a lot easier to fit in his schedule. Way too easy.

It's not supposed to be that easy.

Leo... Can't remember the lyrics anymore. Man.

He should really be writing this down.

He gets out the notes app on his phone and restarts the process.

Even with the light at its lowest setting, the phone is unreasonably bright. His eyes begin burning after a short while. Rocking turns to pacing turns to sitting turns to catching himself when his body tries to pass out. The roller coaster jolt has him back awake in seconds.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, determined to stay awake and keep watch. He owes the turtle that much.

Man. Leon hates debts.

Once he wakes up, completely and totally fine, they can be even.

He finds his head bowing thrice more. During the fourth, his brain registers that his eyes have been closed for several seconds and he has to forcibly pry them open. He picks up his phone from the ground and gets to his feet, shaking his head to wake himself up.

The turtle hasn't moved. He kneels next to him, checking his heartbeat. It's the same. Is that good or bad?

Movement from the entrance.

Leo looks toward it immediately, scanning for the cause. The silence echoes to him. Everything is as motionless as it always is.

Goosebumps rise along his body. He stays put.

A red glow bathes the area right outside.

Leo's sweaty hand goes for his sword.

A hand drops from over the entrance to the platform. Black. Metallic. Claw-like fingers.

He takes it out of his sheath. He watches them pinch into the flesh of the dead Krang creature. It lifts the body out of sight. He can clearly hear each crunch and squelch of something breaking through bones and mass. Nausea swells and his knees shake, but he doesn't dare move from his stance over the unconscious turtle.

The blue of his ninpo sparks, waiting to be called upon. He can't waste it. Not again. He can't risk using it before he needs to. He'll only have so many shots. Maybe Krang will pass over them.

If he knew Leo was there, they'd already be dead.

He holds his breath when all sounds stop.

Something screeches.

It comes from everywhere at once and swallows all sound to stab into Leo's brain as he hits his knees. His blade falls from his hand so he can clamp both hands over his head, putting pressure down in the desperate attempt to muffle it.

It barely makes a dent in the pain. He squints up, barely holding onto consciousness, and watches as claws tear away at the roof.

Before he can process, the claws have shot through the hole and knocked him onto his back. He hits his carapace and the world blots, pain shooting up in waves, red consuming his vision. Krang lifts the head enough to grant him some clarity. He expects the monstrous fury, but he doesn't even look his way, taking in their surroundings.

"Look at that. Still alive."

His eyes return to Leo. He squirms under the weight, wondering if that's going to be the last thing that he hears before this truth becomes a lie. He thrusts his hand outside the claws, and his sword spawns in his hand. Krang's eyes widen, "How-?"

He doesn't let him finish. He escapes his clutches, transporting a few feet away, arm around his ribs. His heart practically stops, as he realizes that the Krang wasn't directing the first statement to him.

He's lifted the turtle from the ground, shell captured between two fingers. Krang looks from him to the unconscious turtle. The suit shakes him carelessly but the turtle doesn't wake. "Ah. Another menace with more tricks.” A smirk forms, slowly revealing sharp teeth. “And where there's one, there's an army waiting to join Krang."

"Put him down." His spine has a million tiny needles in it, but he remains standing, hands tight over his hilt. "Put him down."

"That's the problem with heroes." The Krang turns the turtle over, like a customer inspecting merchandise. Leo can only look between them in badly contained panic. "So determined to save that you won't do what needs to be done. All your determination to put me here, and yet you let him live. Pathetic."

"How did you find us?" Leo's voice crumbles, weak. Krang didn't even check inside. He knew. "How did you know?"

"I went looking." He tilts the suit's head at him, smug. "My brainless snacks have eyes everywhere. Last thing that it saw was a pest and a tool. So I came to collect."

"What do you want with him?" Leo demands, filling in the blanks even as the question leaves his mouth. Tool. "Leave him alone. He won’t even wake up! He’s useless to you!”

“He’ll wake.” He trails a finger along his skull. “The Krang have ways of getting into the minds of our prey.”

Leo thinks of Raph. His hands shake, and his voice hardens, “Yeah, I noticed. What do you want from him? He’s not anything special. He’s a poser whose shell I literally just had to save.”

Just put him down. Please put him down.

“I want what we both want.” Krang eyes glow. “Freedom.”

A laugh escapes, practiced and baffled. Who else thinks this turtle is capable of the impossible? “Are you kidding? He can’t do that!”

"Of course you'd say that." Krang mocks. "Where would you be without tricks and deception?"

"Not here." Leo points out because duh. "If we could just go back, don't you think we would have already?"

"I suppose you'd believe that's all it takes to persuade me." Krang stands to his full height and Leo steps back. "I have eons of experience under my belt. I know all about the unexplained forces that can tax or fuel a lower life form. I've conquered and defeated mounds of sniveling creatures with impossible abilities."

"And yet this teeny turtle beat you at your own game." Leo's heart pounds hard. He needs to push harder. Say whatever he has to so that Krang puts him down. "He's been unconscious for the last ever. He's not getting you out and you're grasping at straws."

"You got lucky. That is all." He snarls as he bends his knees and Leo's heart races as he leers over him. "And once I return to my Brother and Sister, I will slaughter everyone you love for it. Or better yet, send the rest back here to finish you."

He grins, eyes maniac, and before Leo can get a word in, he leaps.

He springs up and through the hole in the roof. The force knocks Leo off his feet, but panic shoots through his systems. His ninpo assists before he even hits the ground. He lands against rocks, looking up as Krang lands on a floating surface.

"HEY!" He shouts after him. "BRING HIM BACK!"

The Krang ignores him, launching them further away as if he'd never spoken at all. Leo tries to follow but he barely gets a few steps before his legs give out. The fire eats away at his ribs and spine, making it hard to get his breath. He lifts his head, vision splitting, as two Kraang merge into one and then none.

Then, he's gone, taking Leo's only hope of survival with him.

He forces himself to his feet. He can't let this happen. He doesn't care if the turtle's crazy or a liar or a hero or a villain. It doesn't matter if he's mean and rude and snide and sad and hurt. He wants to go home as much as Leo does. He asked for Leo's help and he's failing him again. The Krang took him and now he's gone.

The anger burns hotter than any of his injuries.

It's a familiar injustice. The kind that comes when his dad won't hear his side of the story because Raph already gave his admittedly accurate side. The kind that comes from watching Donnie mock his brilliant puns and Mikey break his things without repercussion because he bit his tongue too often and allowed it.

A fury that reminds that, even if it's partly his fault, he doesn't care.

It's his story, his pun, his jacket with paint now on it.

He glares in their direction, furious and desperate and terrified to be left alone, and his hand shoots out. Ninpo surrounds it in a bright circle as he pushes out and closes his fist. He calls it all back, drawing his hand down to his chest. Every ounce that's his.

Every. Single. Bit.

He feels the tug deep within as the heat finds purchase.

The turtle spawns before him, in a sparkling shower of blue and white, and it shocks Leo enough that he steps away.

He falls onto the rocks and Leo snaps to himself.

He practically tackles him, listening to the booming shout that echoes to them. He cannot believe the idiot is still unconscious after all that, but he grabs his sword, looks towards the sound, and spots Krang as he throws himself towards them.

His eyes burn a flaming red and Leo gives him a haughty salute.

FLASH.

The portal swallows them and dumps them back where they started.

It's only a couple feet deeper than they were before, the chucks of metal from the broken roof lying in front of them. Leo drapes himself over the motionless form, watching as the ground cracks when the Krang lands. He roars, once, enraged, and then he charges out of sight. The ground shakes when he launches himself into the abyss of nothingness. Leo listens to him land and take off again.

"Okay," He wheezes as he clings tightly to the thankless turtle that's speckled with his energy. He remains against his plastron, pain swirling his surroundings and swallowing every inch of senses.

His arm slips to the floor. He can't so much as twitch his finger. Relief floods his system anyway. "Now... We're even."

His vision gives out like the ground crumbling outside.

This time, Leo doesn't bother to fight it.

Previous Current Next Arc8

[reasonsforhope]

Re: a couple people in the notes:

Some real talk for the new year, about where we now stand, and what the next years are going to look like. (Still ends on a "be hopeful or else" kind of note, but definitely gets into some heavy truths about the meaning of recent events.)

Look, I'm not saying that the effects of warming aren't already bad, or won't get worse. I'm from California, I currently live in LA. My state's been on fire for half my life. Natural disasters starting amping up early here (and we're certainly in the middle of another historic number now).

But like I said, my state's been breaking horrible disaster records constantly for the past ten years. And you know what? Natural disasters have been getting more and more survivable for years, largely thanks to faster warnings and better mass communication (x).

Does it suck how many natural disasters there are now? Yeah. Are we going to need to organize and mobilize (both politically and especially community-wise) like never before to see as many people through these times as best as possible? Also yeah.

An unknown number of the most optimistic futures were foreclosed when Trump won the US election. That's painful but a reality.

But for twenty-ish of the past twenty-five years, the science said we weren't going to survive climate change at all.

For most of my life, we were worried that we had set Earth on a course to become like fucking Venus (which is, on average, well over 800 degrees Farenheit). Even if it didn't get that bad, we were so worried that global warming might wipe out all life on earth - except maybe the cockroaches. Literally, when I was a younger the kids at my church put on a play about that. It was like an adaptation of A Christmas Carol where the future only had talking cockroaches. I grew up so worried about this. (Yes it was very granola why do you ask.)

But starting a few years ago, studies have shown that there wasn't going to be a runaway greenhouse effect that could turn us into Venus; that earth is warming, yes, but we don't seem to be in danger of that.

Between that and the fact that the adoption of renewables globally is too fast to be stopped, and we do have the technology and environmental science knowledge to eventually re-lower global temperatures by getting to net negative carbon emissions (x), and most countries and at least 73% of people in all countries for which there is data (x) actually care very much about the climate, yeah, we have closed the door on the lava planet future.

And yeah, I do think that's worth celebrating.

That's a massive fucking victory.

Semi-relatedly, I also think that, given the loss of the US election, there's a really, really strong chance the developing world will be what saves us, and we'll just be lucky to be along for the ride.

Most people have no idea of the kinds of stories and statistics coming out of the developing world and Indigenous communities. The world is changing for the better on the environment, even as disasters (and the US) are getting worse. Solar power is going to revolutionize the fucking world, because it's going to grant humanity universal access to electricity, and that's going to revolutionize the world, especially the developing world (aka the global majority). And most people have no idea at all, much less how much it's going to change.

So, yeah, natural disasters are going to keep getting worse.

But there's a long, long long fucking way between "natural disasters are going to keep getting worse" and "the extinction of all of humanity and/or the vast majority of life on earth"

And yeah, I am going to celebrate that fucking difference.

Because for over twenty years, I was afraid I'd never get to.

That difference is absolutely worth celebrating.

We have already averted truly apocalyptic levels of global warming.

Yes, read that again. Let it sink in. This is what the science now says. We have already averted truly apocalyptic global warming.

To quote David Wallace-Wells, author of The Uninhabitable Earth, from his huge feature in the New York Times:

"Thanks to astonishing declines in the price of renewables, a truly global political mobilization, a clearer picture of the energy future and serious policy focus from world leaders, we have cut expected warming almost in half in just five years... The window of possible climate futures is narrowing, and as a result, we are getting a clearer sense of what’s to come: a new world, full of disruption but also billions of people, well past climate normal and yet mercifully short of true climate apocalypse." (New York Times, October 22, 2022. Unpaywalled here. Emphasis mine. And yes, this vision of the future is backed up by the current science on the issue, as he explains at length in the article.)

So we've already averted truly apocalyptic warming, and we've already cut expected warming IN HALF in just the past five years.

The pace of technology, of innovation, of prices, of feasibility, of discovery, of organizing, of grassroots movements, of movements in other countries around the world, have all picked up the pace so fast in the last five years.

Renewable technology and capacity are both increasing at an exponential rate. It's all S-curves, ones that look like this:

-via The Economist, June 20, 2024.

How much more will we manage in another five years? Another ten? Another twenty?

I know the US is about to fucking suck about the environment for the next four years. But the momentum of renewable energy is far too much to stop - both in the US (x) and around the world.

(Huge shoutouts to India, China, and Brazil for massive gains for the environment in renewables, and Brazil for massive progress against Amazon deforestation.)

We're going to get there.

Say it with me. We're going to get there.

[skitskatdacat63]

Yes these have all already been posted, but 2023 Vettonso comp post for me because I'm going to have an emotional breakdown

[gnomeantics]

me (starkid fan) 🤝 my sister (henry danger fan)

joey richter from MY SHOWS is in HER shows as well??

[mantisgodsdomain]

We think the very unintended manner in which we are experiencing BG3 (datamining the game and then reading all of the dialogue by manually going through the game files and reading the text) may be altering our impressions of the game slightly. If we ever release most of this shit we are probably going to need to stick a "disclaimer: author of this fanfiction mostly experienced this game via datamining, and may not be an accurate source on things like maps, because the wizard's computer cannot run BG3" on there. Unrelatedly, if any of you Tumblr users out there who are capable of running BG3 happen to be willing to hop on call with us and do nothing but take a freecam around the scenery for a while, we're open.

[arolesbianism]

Hi guys guess who's literally shaking rn from excitement

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. bragging about your oh-so-perfect boyfriend to your friends certainly has its (welcomed) consequences. . .

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff & smut. p in v -> unprotected. missionary. sweet but also nasty and condescending. creampie. body worship. size difference / - kink. nicknames ‘(little) princess, baby’. name calling once. not proof read bcs im sleepy. wc. 2k+

“right! he’s so thoughtful,” you sigh dreamily as you chat with your friends over the phone. you’re laying on satoru’s bed, kicking your feet up while you remove your make-up. of course, you had to call your girls to tell them all about the little date you just had with your boyfriend.

satoru’s in the shower, so you’re taking the time to relive the experience.

“here she goes again y’all,” one of your friends sighs dramatically, to which the others follow with giggles of their own. they know that you can go on and on about your partner. they’ve heard all of it before.

you grin and roll your eyes, rubbing the cleansing wipe over your lips, removing the light pink gloss you had on. you’re all giddy as you recall what satoru has done and given to you this evening. you’ve been pampered—spoiled rotten.

“hey! don’t blame me,” you retort with a chuckle. your friends laugh and urge you to go on since they’re only joking. the stories you tell are always either adorable or heartwarming, and thus they’re happy to listen. plus, debriefing you on your love life is free entertainment.

it’s not unusual for you to stray from the main story. you ramble about the restaurant you’ve visited, the pretty green scenery you’ve walked past, the museum you’ve visited, the way satoru paid for everything and how he made sure to pick activities you’re interested.

you get an occasional ‘aww’ or ‘cuteee’ when you mention your boyfriend’s loving gestures. from the enormous bouquet of flowers he’s gotten you, to the fact that he carried you back into his apartment the moment you told him your feet were hurting.

walking in heels wasn’t the smart move you thought it was, though luckily you had a thoughtful lover by your side.

“he’s just so handsome ‘n stuff. god—“ you squeal, not even bothering to dampen your excitement. you hide your face behind your hands for a split second, gaining a few fan girling squeaks from your friends as well. they’re happy that you’re being treated like deserved.

you don’t hear the door of the bedroom open since you’re too busy gushing about satoru. you’re focused on your small pocket mirror, careful not to forget a spot on your face. you notice that your friends have gone quiet, but you don’t question it.

“his gentle personality is honestly such a turn-on,” you mumble as you rub off the concealer from under your eyes, “and his subtle yet possessive touches? phew, don’t get me started.” you continue to babble on about how hot satoru is when he gets mad, unable to point out a flaw.

you’re about to comment on your friends’ sudden silence when a hand lands on your shoulder. you freeze and finally make eye contact with no one other than satoru—hovering over you from behind. he’s smiling down at you and mumbles a quick, ‘hey, baby’, before kissing your forehead.

you try to explain the situation, yet have no idea where to start. you can hear a friend of yours snickering and another faintly whisper an ‘oh, girl. . .’

before you have the ability to get another word out, satoru cuts you off, waving at your front camera for a second. his smile reaches his eyes and his dimples show;

“hey ladies, mind if i steal my girl from you?” satoru asks as he puts an arm around you. he places his cheek against yours, awaiting an answer. your friends are left speechless at the sudden turn of events.

the white-haired man appears extremely good on screen. he’s basically blessing them with his handsome looks. the towel hanging over his head indicates that he just came out of a fresh shower. there’s a visible vein running down his neck—nearly bulging out of the skin—as if satoru’s holding himself back.

once your friends snap out of their daze, they greet satoru and nod, exchanging quick ‘see you later’s. your boyfriend thanks them with another one of his charming smiles. he waves at the camera again, “bye bye, thank you.”

the call ends and the bedroom falls quiet. you stare at your screen which fades to black, completely dumbfounded. you quickly sit up—your mind a chaotic mess full of thoughts.

“satoru, i uhm, i didn’t know—“ you attempt to form an explanation, though you realise that it’s likely futile. satoru’s probably heard every word that left your mouth. you look up at him, your voice a quiet whisper, “how much did you hear?”

the sorcerer grins. he’s so enamored with you; everything you do is adorable. he grabs your hands and holds then into his larger ones—thumbs gently rubbing your skin. he pulls them up to his lips so he could place chaste kisses on your knuckles.

“everything, princess,” satoru hums, rotating your hands to place kisses on the inside of your wrists. there’s a subtle blush on his cheeks that even reaches his ears. no matter how calm and collected he may seem, he’s still but a complete sucker to your love, “talking about me to your little friends, hm? how cute.”

a shiver runs down your spine. you feel your tummy turn as you’re slowly guided onto your back. multiple kisses cover your body—from head to toe—like a canvas getting painted on. satoru’s taking his sweet time, admiring the art that’s your physique.

every piece of clothing that comes off is a step closer to the grande revelation. the masterpiece that is you. moving from one empty spot - filling it with his kisses - to another. sighs of content leave your lover’s mouth with each reveal, as if he hasn’t seen the sight of your naked body before.

“does this turn you on, baby? my ‘subtle touches’?” satoru mutters against your breasts, remembering your earlier words. his blue eyes stare up at you through his white lashes. not wearing his blindfold may overstimulate him due to his abilities, but he’ll risk anything if it’s to admire you the best he can.

he chuckles when you nod. your boyfriend kisses your hard nipples—taking his time to swirl his tongue around both of them just to feel your back arch off the mattress. your hands holding onto him for life is extremely thrilling. “it turns me on too,” satoru confesses quietly. his slender fingers reach the hem of your panties, “you turn me on so fuckin’ much.”

your breath hitches when your underwear gets tossed somewhere across the room. you’re dripping, obviously. there’s no way you couldn’t get turned on by the way satoru’s been worshipping your entire being.

you can also see the effect you have on him; he’s sweating. the vein on his neck seems to grow more visible when your cunt is revealed to him.

“there she is,” satoru grins in satisfaction. he seems to be in a daze for a second before he regains composure. he looks at you for a quick check, needing to know if he has your consent before he continues. the moment you nod, your lover separates your legs.

you sniff and try to hide your embarrassed expression behind a hand. satoru’s quick to pin your wrist above your head so you wouldn’t have the chance to do any of that. “keep your eyes on me, yeah?” he leans in to place a swift kiss on your lips.

“mhm,” you nod after returning the peck. the white-haired man utters a small ‘thank you’ and undoes his sweatpants with his free hand. he fumbles with his boxers—unable to keep himself from trembling in pleasure from the view alone.

your small body underneath him is a sight he’ll never get tired of. that face of yours morphing into one of pleasure whenever you’re intimate is one of his favorite things to witness. thus why the missionary is his go to position.

“c’mon,” satoru kisses your cheek as he manages to pull his erected cock out of his underwear. it’s standing tall, the tip pointing right at the place it wants to be buried at—your wet, warm and inviting pussy, “you were so loud when talking with y’r friends ‘n now you’ve gone quiet on me.”

satoru pouts, “it’s not fair. i wanna hear my princess too.”

you almost choke on your spit because of how whiny yet demanding satoru sounds. you feel his fingers intertwine with yours, firmly holding your hand down above your head. you’re still flustered by the entire situation. you open your mouth as tears gather in your eyes, “i’m sorry, i’m jus— ngh!”

you can’t even get your words out. the lewd feeling of satoru rubbing his tip between your folds completely catches you off guard. he grins, as if he planned on doing that the moment you tried to speak. he’s such a tease.

“shh, shh, i know,” satoru coos mockingly, acting like he’s not doing it on purpose. you can’t blame the man; he’s been rock hard ever since he heard you praise him so openly through the phone. your lovely voice speaking so highly of him was driving him nuts.

you’re so appreciative for all he’s doing and it makes the sorcerer want to spoil you even more. to give you the love and affection you deserve because of how precious you are—even if you don’t realise it.

he wants to give you more. more, more, more.

without thinking, satoru pushes his cock right through your tight cunt. he shudders at the sight of your poor, small pussy struggling to take his fat dick. he can’t hurt you, he knows. especially with the amount of times the bulbous head of his cock nearly bruised your cervix.

though, it’s difficult not to go all out. you’re so accepting of everything he does—satoru can see that by the way your eyes stare at him. it’s all love. the light reflecting in your pupils makes them sparkle beautifully. he cusses under his breath, “y’re so pretty, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck. y’re making it so hard.”

satoru tries his best not to plunge his cock all the way to the hilt. he reaches halfway with each thrust, the thwacking sound increasing by the second. your legs automatically wrap around his waist and your fingers squeeze his.

“toruuu, fmhh, so big,” you babble, the drool forming in the corners of your lips threatening to drip down your chin. each soft yet firm thrust seems to resonate within you, evoking a sense of pleasurable contentment.

satoru lets out a haughty chuckle at the sight of you going cockdrunk already. he’s still trying to hold his urges back by focusing on your satisfaction alone. “i’ll give you something else to brag ‘bout to y’r friends,” he pants with a confident smirk, kissing your jawline as he ruts into you,

you’re embarrassed by your current predicament. despite that, you find yourself enjoying every consequence that your actions have caused. your moans echo in satoru’s ears, each slap of your bodies connecting sounding twice as loud.

his thick cock is stretching you out so well. your cunt is working overtime to make space for every inch. your boyfriend gently bites your bottom lip, his breath faltering when you clench around him in response.

“‘re ya gonna tell them?” satoru asks through a guttural moan. his hips move non-stop, aiming to please you until you lose your mind. he’ll live up to the expectations set no matter what. he kisses the swell of your breasts, “are ya gonna tell ‘em how you let your ‘lovely’ boyfriend fuck you like this? how y’re a complete slut for his cock?”

you don’t know how to react to his dirty talk. it’s getting you wetter, that’s for sure. your thighs shake around his waist and your tummy feels like it’s doing flips. satoru doesn’t leave it there, “gonna tell them about how good i fill you up, yeah? dirty little girl telling all her friends about our private life, tsk tsk.”

it’s overwhelming. the sudden increase in dirty talk makes you want to cum on spot. you feel like you’re being degraded, however satoru’s touches make you feel appreciated and loved. his hand holding yours above your head never leaves you—a sign that this is still him making love to you.

“am—am not gonna,” you hiccup. the words simply roll of your tongue without much thought. you’re mindlessly responding to your lover. “am not gonna tell them anything,” you continue before cutting yourself off with a string of whiny moans when satoru plays with your clit.

satoru shakes his head, increasing the pressure and speed in which he’s pumping into you. he loves the view of you being so helpless—succumbing to the pleasure he’s granting you. “sureeee, i believe you,” your boyfriend snickers and pushes his pulsing cock in further. his tone is soft but condescending, “i’ll trust my little princess to keep her mouth shut f’me.”

you’re getting so close. your nails dig into his skin and your noises get louder. you’re right on the edge of euphoria. the clit stimulation along with the feeling of being filled to the brim is enough to make you see stars.

satoru nods at your desperate whimpers that alarm him that you’re close to climax. “i got you, baby. cum f’me—i got you,” he places sloppy kisses all over your face and rams his cock in and out of you in a stronger rhythm. there’s nothing satoru wants to do in this world more than to flood your insides with his cum.

his cock doesn���t stop prodding at your sweet spots and it’s making you approach that peak; the peak of pleasure that’s going to push you over the edge. you hold tightly onto your lover and he doesn’t hesitate to return the embrace. “it’s okay, do it f’me,” satoru encourages you once again through a husky whisper.

you’re thankful that you have such an attentive partner. he can go from teasing you to comforting you and it’s the most reassuring thing ever. you’ve never had a man hold you so intimately while he’s balls deep into you.

“g’nna cum,” a strangled moan leaves your throat when you try to speak. your chests are pressed together and your heartbeats match—like the perfect pair you are. satoru feels his balls clench with an aching feeling, needing to release every last drop they have stored into your tiny cunt.

just thinking about the way you were bragging about him again, is enough. “take it—fuuuckk—take it all, baby,” the white-haired man takes a deep breath in and can’t help but bury his entire dick inside of you, that one last thrust making you yelp.

you reach your climaxes at the exact same time. your fluids mix as you feel satoru’s thick spurts of cum coat your insides a sticky white. your body spasms and your boyfriend instantly soothes you by rubbing your back. his own legs are trembling a little, but you’re far more important.

you don’t utter a word and simply focus on regaining your energy. all that you can say are incoherent babbles. “easy,” satoru kisses the corners of your eyes and relishes in the fact that he’s fucked you full of his cum. it’s a reminder of just how much he loves you.

a few encouraging words and hugs later and you’ve calmed down. you don’t fully grasp the reality of the situation until the adrenaline and other hormones drop down to a normal level.

you’re suddenly reminded by your previous words and this time, you succeed in hiding your face into the crook of satoru’s neck.

it’s certain that he’s greatly enjoyed overhearing you talk about him to your friends, but it’s still a somewhat embarrassing memory you wish to forget. “not a word, please. j-jus act like you haven’t heard anything,” you mumble quietly now that you’ve come down from your high.

satoru laughs softly. he can’t help but tease you after that—it’s a given. you’re still so caught up on what happened and it’s endearing.

however, satoru wouldn’t be him if he didn’t tease you about your little comments. without pulling out, he tilts his head back and stares down at you with a faint grin, “do i have to act like i haven’t fucked you silly just now too?”

“satoru!”