#had to put that tag in there and let my peeps feast of this idea

[void-occupation]

Alastor's Animal Noises

I won't call this an unpopular headcanon, just one that is slept on.

So, everyone knows about Alastor making deer noises, both in canon and fanon. In the show he canonically makes little fawn squeaks when Rosie hugs him (which lives in my head rent free at all times) and does the elk scream a couple times throughout the show. Fanon is just as up in arms about this trait of his, and I think it's great.

But.

What if he ALSO made alligator noises? HEAR ME OUT - trust me, you won't regret it.

So.

When you really think about it, there are a large amount of traits that Alastor has that would make it logical for him to share traits with an alligator as well as a deer. These include: teeth/habit of eating sinners(cannibalism) (alligators are known cannibals), place of origin being Louisiana, persistent presence of bayous in his life (near his home in the living world, supposedly where he hid his victims, where he died, and the bayou in his room), ambush predator (makes you feel at ease by being unassuming then strikes before you even realize the danger), and his temper (appears calm until he's NOT) just to name a few.

Despite what people tend to think, alligators actually make a TON of different sounds, though there's a few main ones I'll talk about.

First one is the territorial growl.

I feel like Alastor could make this sound when he's being territorial (obviously), threatening, or protective (as rare as that is). He begins making this sound a lot more often the longer he stays at the hotel because he begins to see it as his territory, and the residents as his people (not that he'd ever admit that lol). Also, I feel like hearing this loud, bass-feeling noise from this rail-thin deer man would be a bit jarring, especially if you'd never heard it before

Second sound is the defensive hiss.

This is a sound Alastor would make if he's feeling threatened. I'm thinking scenarios where he's annoyed/mad/anxious are when he'd hiss, because they're all scenarios where he'd be trying to get something or someone to leave him alone. It's a very different yet very similar sound to a cat's hiss. They can mean similar things, but hearing an alligator hiss is significantly more threatening, which fits Alastor's character. Also, it means he can still sound terrifying when he's the one who's scared (if he manages to make a distressed gator sound rather than a distressed deer sound that is lol)

And of course, we can't forget the mandatory cute sound, the baby swamp puppy chirps.

If he gets to make fawn noises, you bet your ass he's gonna make swamp puppy laser sounds. The scenarios where he'd make these noises are a lot more rare, but they definitely exist. He wouldn't ever admit it, but he sees Rosie as a mother figure, and just as he tends to greet her with fawn squeaks, Alastor will subconsciously start doing little baby gator chirps when he's looking for her and can't find her. His instincts are to call out to her so she can find him - the same way baby alligators do with their mothers - and the side effect is that he makes cute little laser chirping noises without even realizing it. He has a tendency to do it when he's looking for anyone he likes who is older than him. Zestial finds it charming and the few times it happened to him, Husk refuses to talk about, a lot of mixed feelings brought up by the fact that the man who owns his soul has given him at least somewhat of a parental role subconsciously.

anyways, these were just my thoughts on it, feel free to add on your own or use it as inspiration for your own work (let me know though, I want to see it!!!!) (putting this in the lee!alastor tags to feed the imaginations of my friends there who are always starving for more things)

[roxy-davenport]

Bad Luck on Christmas

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Beta: @gettinjoyful

Word Count: 1,651

A/N: This was written for @webcricket’s SPN Advent Challenge day 12 with the prompt, Christmas Disaster. Fluff. Crowley to the rescue.

                Also on AO3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/13055364)

You woke up in Crowley’s loving arms, smiling at your beloved as he drew you into his chest.

“How did you sleep, pet?” Crowley cooed.

“After the day I had yesterday...actually, surprisingly well. I always sleep well when I’m with you,” you stated with gentle kisses on his neck.

“Your personal sandman,” Crowley replied with a smirk.

You chuckled at that idea.

“Indeed, you are. How lucky for me.”

And boy did you feel lucky to snag the King of Hell himself. He was always there when you really needed him, like yesterday. Now that was a disaster of a day.

You woke up looking forward to putting the final touch on all the Christmas decorations before making some amazing pie and dinner. That’s totally not what happened though.

Your bad luck started the moment you woke up. Your alarm clock was so loud and shrill, you thought you lost all hearing in that ear. You tried to shut it up without looking since you were tired and you really didn’t want to have to lean over the bed. So, you ended up swatting it and it turned off but it took the lamp with it, making them both crash to the ground. You bolted up. Dean and Sam ran into your room in their boxers, guns drawn. You quickly pointed to the ground and they gave you glares. You simply shrugged and the boys went back to sleep in their respective rooms.

You got up to fix the decorations. You meandered into the hallway and tripped over boxes of ornaments for the tree. Your hands flew out in front of you to stop your head from crashing onto the linoleum floor. Mission achieved, but sadly, your arms took a beating.

You got up slowly, with a groan, not noticing that your ankle was snagged in the ‘Christmas Decorations�� box. Whoops. Somehow, you really got your ankle caught. The entire wire was wrapped around you. In your effort to move slightly, you broke two ornaments. You embraced your place on the floor. Obviously, you were meant to face plant today so here it was. You growled angrily at the day you were having. It’s like Christmas was fighting back.

You stayed on the ground but tried to flip onto your back so you could at least see how tangled you were. Bad mistake because you crushed another ornament. You really hoped that wasn’t a family heirloom.

Halfway on your back you looked at how badly your ankle was stuck. The verdict was, you’d be here a while. The stupid thing was wrapped as tight as tourniquet. And there was nothing around you to untangle it with. Huffing out a frustrated breath, you stretched, half sitting up and extended your arms to carefully unwind the lights from your now hurt ankle.

When you finally got your ankle free, you were so happy you extended your arms out breaking a bowl that Dean placed on the side, not bothering to put it in the sink. Now, you’d have to clean pieces of plate off the ground.

You glared at the stupid box plotting its demise while you were making your coffee. You told the boys they needed to invest in a Keurig machine and after much pleading they did. You put a K-cup in and waited for some delicious coffee that would even out your mood. Regardless of the day, once you had your cup, you’d be on cloud nine. But it was taking so long to make it. It was as if the machine knew how badly you needed your coffee. Then once you had it, you spilled about half of the precious liquid on the floor because your still sleepy mind forgot there was a door right there.

Grumbling, you put down the coffee and attempted to grab the stupid Christmas decorations box. You dragged it, afraid to pick it up and create yet another disaster. When you finally got there, you were so happy. It was a long way to drag the stupid box, that was now half broken on the bottom, from all the dragging. You reached over and grabbed your cup of coffee, needing some caffeine to soothe your nerves. Much better,

When you turned around, you attempted to put lights on the Christmas tree. You slowly took out the stupid lights and placed them carefully around the tree and then plugged it in. You felt such a sense of accomplishment. The boys would love how you decorated it. What a treat for them when they woke up. Well, the moment was fleeting because in a minute all the lights went out in the Bunker. You blew a fuse lighting a Christmas tree. Wonderful.

“What the fuck happened Y/N?” a dreary Dean yelled your way.

“What does it look like Dean. My bad luck day continues, this time with a blackout. Brought to you by our crappy Christmas lights. Oh wait, who said we should spend ten extra dollars to buy the better-quality lights. Was it I?”

Dean growled and trudged in the dark to turn the lights back on. You stood by the tree and literally chugged the rest of your coffee. Then you took the lights out of the socket and was ready to smash them to pieces. You had to hand it to Dean, he got the lights back on really quickly.

Sam followed his brother into the room as they surveyed the damage. “Hey, where’s my bowl,” Dean questioned.

“Oh, you mean the one you left teetering on the edge when it should have been in the sink? Yeah, I broke it. This just in, I need a hell of a lot more coffee to get through this day.”

“Geez Y/N, you okay?”

“Aside from being stressed out, on Christmas no less, yeah, I’m fine. Don’t I look it?” you replied sarcastically. You sighed deeply before continuing. “You know, I was going to make you pie but-.”

“Let me help you sweetheart. Your day sounds pretty bad so I’d be happy to help.”

“I’ll get more coffee for all of us,” Sam offered.

“Thank you, Sam,” you said with a soft smile.

“No problem,” Sam replied with a soft tap on your back

You felt much better with the boys there and copious amounts of coffee but your nerves were still really shot. A car alarm went off and you nearly flew to the ceiling.

Your legs were shaking slightly, due to your frayed nerves, as you bravely tried to make some pie. You started mixing in the ingredients and boom, it was all over you and the ceiling in a second. How fun. How was that even possible though? You were just mixing it. Dean literally turned around to prep the oven and when he turned back, you were wearing the pie. What the hell?! That was the last straw and you literally screamed Crowley’s name. You had enough of this day.

He appeared immediately, expecting you to be half dead judging by the scream, but he just found you frazzled instead. You looked to be on the verge of tears, covered in what looked like flour and butter. Your whole body was tense.

“What’s wrong love,” Crowley asked you gently.

“This whole day is one big Christmas disaster,” you said in a sad, defeated tone, staring at the kitchen floor.

Dean shrugged behind you, somewhat confirming to Crowley what you just said. Crowley was silent, waiting to hear all about your day and how he could make it better. The boys had long since given up trying to separate you two and were now just grateful he was here.

“I got my ankle tangled on the christmas lights and it’s been throbbing ever since. I broke three ornaments, broke the box, spilled my coffee, broke a bowl, broke a lamp and my alarm clock and let's not mention the fact that I caused the fuses to blow in the Bunker. Thank Chuck, that Dean had spares. And now here we are with ruined pie. Such a fashion statement, no?” you said sarcastically, masking your anger and sadness with a joke.

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a lot of damage for such a small, sweet girl.”

“I know,” you said, so mournfully, he felt bad for teasing you.

“Forgive me, pet, for not arriving sooner. I should have checked on my kitten earlier. Alas, Christmas is a busy time in Hell and I literally couldn’t pry myself away sooner. But now that I’m here, I’m all yours darling.” Crowley held his arms open, waiting for you to step into the hug. Once you did, he drew you close to him, his lips on your forehead. “Good girl. Look darling, those are all small things. Simply a bad day on Christmas, no more, no less. And now I’m here and I’ll fix everything darling.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and everything you broke was now in one piece, the Christmas tree had lights on it and the pie was already done. Not to mention the feast he snapped in for lunch. “Merry Christmas, Y/N, I love you so much.”

“And I you,” you said with a bright smile.

Crowley spent the rest of the day dedicated to you. He ignored all calls from demons and Hell itself. He spent his time soothing your nerves and making you smile. All thoughts of bad luck were vanished from your mind. He gave you so many gifts, everything you wanted this year, and he constantly held you and kissed you, making sure you knew you were safe with him around.

And that’s how you woke up here, in his bed, in his earthly residential penthouse, your bad luck expunged and the promise of another full day with your King in front of you. With Crowley around, no day could ever really be a disaster, not really.

Tagging

Forevers: @killerofthesouth @charliebradbury1104, @chaos-and-the-calm67 @chelsea072498 @one-shots-supernatural @everyday-supernatural-af@kalliravenne, @delisp  @toogardenenthusiast, @winchesterprincessbride, @take-me-tonirvana, @hellsmother, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @faegal04, @evilskank-inthemegacoven, @mamaredd123, @atc74 @hamartiamacguffin, @donnaintx, @love-kittykat21, @impala-dreamer, @evansrogerskitten, @lucifer-in-leather, @riversong-sam, @rosie-winchester, @chaosinacoffeecup

Crowley peeps: @singingflames,  @jesspfly, @alangel1895, @raspberrymama, @raimie77, @daintyunicorn, @nothin-after-79, @gettinjoyful @jocyc1997, @imaginecrowleyspn, @ravenangel33, @alangel1895  @daughterofthebrowncoats, @boxer-pup, @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll, @crowleys-dungeon, @crowleysplaythings, @crowleyshellhoundproductions, @klaineaholic @jesspfly, @annabellerosemasters, @fuschiarulerinthebluebox, @kdfrqqg,  @manawhaat, @notnaturalanahi, @bkwrm523, @whispersandwhiskerburn,  @for-the-love-of-dean, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings, @deansleather, @deantbh @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @wi-deangirl77,  @chaos-and-the-calm67, @jotink78 @babypieandwhiskey, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @notnaturalanahi @memariana91, @fandommaniacx, @mysaintsasinner, @winchester-writes, @vintagevalentinexx, @theficlibrarium, @itsemmyb, @crzcorgi, @deerlululucy, @growleytria, @thegleegeneration, @samtomydeanwinchester, @supermoonpanda, @i-never-said-a-pilot @sis-tafics, @ferferelli, @lilyoflothlorien, @chrisatplay, @faith-in-dean,  @for-the-love-of-dean, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @trenchcoats-and-bees, @curliesallovertheplace, @jencharlan, @not-so-natural-spn, @winchester-writes, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @feelmyroarrrr, @winchesters-princess, @beachy2014, @tia58, @impossible-box, @katnharper, @sunriserose1023, @jotink78, @notnaturalanahi, @winchestersmolder@babypieandwhiskey, @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave@marasficrecs, @damalseer@nixie-ravenwillow, @karlamoriarty, @revwinchester, @kittenofdoomage, @deansleather@whydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @faith-in-dean, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings, @supernatural-jackles, @whispersandwhiskerburn, @hexparker, @crowley-you-sinnamon-roll @scheherazades-horcrux, @talesmaniac89, @ajacentlee, @chelsea072498, @skybinx-blog @kittenofdoomage, @teamfreewill92, @maraisabellegrey, @winchester-writes, @fandommaniacx @archangels-lollipop @webcricket   @alexielwrites @waywardangelcupcake @yarabi99 @dmsilvisart @floreanfortesques @whatthefrickcrowley

[themurphyzone]

Why Glomgold’s Evil Scheme is a Colossal Failure Waiting to Happen

I love Glomgold’s hammy speeches in the Mark Beaks episode! So the real question is, what happens afterward? This isn’t a serious fic. 

“AT LAST!” Glomgold proclaimed triumphantly, settling into the cushy chair behind the security camera footage. “That imbecile Beaks fell for my devious and brilliant trap! Now, time to enjoy the emotional distress on his STUPID face as it slowly dawns on his tiny birdbrain that there is no billionaire’s convention aboard the yacht! MWAHAHAHAHA!” 

He abruptly stood up, throwing his arms into the air as he laughed maniacally. Then the chair tipped over, sending him crashing to the ground. 

(Glomgold sadly lacked the common sense to not make declarations of destroying enemies while standing on rolling chairs.)

Glomgold dusted himself off, unfazed. “In a few hours, we shall be settling on my private jet so we can personally greet him at Krakatoa and watch him die together! Wouldn’t that be grand, Scroogie, er, I think you were number 187?” 

The Scrooge dummy, which was just a log with a top hat, googly eyes, and featherduster cheeks, remained silent in the corner of the room. 

Beaks walked into the third camera’s view, though he seemed more interested in the blasted device in his hand than the yacht taking him to his doom. Glomgold pulled Scrooge #187 to his side, so he could also revel in the inevitable despair that would slowly consume the upstart billionaire. 

It was a good thing he invested in audio that could detect a pin dropping within a five mile radius. 

“Aha! The yacht where the billionaire’s convention takes place!” Beaks exclaimed, turning to face the opposite direction. He held his phone up to the sky at arm’s length, an obnoxious grin on his face. “Awesomesauce!” 

“Yes, enjoy your simple pleasures while you still can,” Glomgold growled. “It will be so much more delicious when you taste the soul-crushing reality of your isolation! Wait, what are you doing?” Beaks stopped every few steps up the ramp while raising his phone and doing...something. 

Something that was obviously not the face of an enemy realizing they’d been tricked and sent on a one way to ticket to their demise. 

“Taking so many of these I gotta tag it with something new! Uh, yacht selfie. Nah, not catchy enough,” Beaks murmured to himself. “Billionaire boat bash? C’mon, better. Aha! Livin’ it yacht style! Perfect!” 

“Just. Get. On. The. Yacht,” Glomgold snarled. “He’s worse than you when it comes to holdin’ up plans!” He pointed an accusatory finger at Scrooge #187. 

He loved it when Scrooge wasn’t able to make a cutting remark. 

A nearby phone rang, and Glomgold quickly picked it up. “Glomgold, the target is currently on the ramp taking selfies. He doesn’t suspect a thing,” the henchman on the other end said. “However, he appears to be taking an obscene amount of time coming up the ramp. Can I have clearance to shove him on the deck?” 

“I can see that,” Glomgold muttered, glancing at the feed. There was a large, muscular henchman disguised as a seaman waiting on the deck, tapping his foot as he watched Beaks slowly ascend the ramp while taking selfies. “Permission granted. Show him where the buffet is, but after that no further contact. I want him to learn how gloomy isolation can be while tossing and turning on the seven seas! Will that be all?” 

“Well there’s an issue with my pay I’d like to discuss-”

Glomgold grabbed a stack of papers and threw them everywhere, kicking a cabinet and scattering various knickknacks. “I can’t hear you! Ah, Scrooge has found me! He appears to be overpowering me! Oh no, I am defeated! Curses! He ripped my favorite kilt and said my bagpipes sound like a great-grandmother’s funeral! Talk to you some other time!”  

He hung up, sighing in relief. Talk about a close one. 

The henchman lifted Beaks by his jacket and dropped him roughly on the deck. “Yo! Where my fellow rich peeps at?” Beaks greeted, not even looking up from his phone. “No offense man, but the hat makes you look like a peasant. Not even worth a Snapchat filter.” 

The henchman cleared his throat. “They’re...hiding somewhere.” 

Beaks nodded. “Cool, cool. So I bet they’re throwing a surprise party, huh? Say, what’s the wifi password on board?” 

“Yes, a surprise party,” the henchman muttered. “The password is ‘Scroogestinks’, with a capital ‘S’ in Scrooge.” 

“And I am in!” Beaks cheered. “We cool, man? Cause I am going to where the food is. Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain a social media presence on an empty stomach? Oh, who am I kidding? With that receding hairline, you’d probably only have twenty followers tops.” 

Beaks walked away, his thumbs tapping at the screen. 

“JUST PUT THE PHONE DOWN!” Glomgold roared. “YOU’RE ABOUT TO DIE GRUESOMELY FOR THE LOVE OF HAGGIS! NOW PREPARE TO TREMBLE BEFORE THE MIGHT OF FLINTHEART GLOMGOLD! MWAHAHAHAHA!” 

He stopped, frowning and pushing a button on the phone to summon a repairman. 

“You rang, sir?” a scrawny dog in overalls poked his head in. Glomgold grabbed his snout and threw him into the chair. 

“This room doesn’t have my thunder and lightning effects when I’m going ‘MWAHAHAHA!’” Glomgold complained. “You see? Nothing! If this room doesn’t have that wired by the time I come back from watching my second most hated enemy get his flesh melted in lava, I will see that you get thrown to RAVENOUS, MAN-EATING HOUNDS! Good day.” 

He grabbed Scrooge #187 and headed to his private jet, rubbing his hands gleefully. 

Beaks was a complete idiot, but he would slowly realize there was no billionaire’s convention with a little time. 

Glomgold turned off the TV in the plane, curling up on the seat next to Scrooge #187. 

“Scrooge, your worst habits are rubbing off on Beaks,” Glomgold said. “I invested so much money into the buffet and what does Beaks do? Not drown his sorrows in delicious coconut shrimp! He barely looked at the food! All he said was something about trending and an Instagram, what is that, a breakfast cereal? What am I doing wrong here?” 

Scrooge #187 said nothing, though a featherduster came off the side of his head. 

Glomgold gasped. “Why, Scroogie! You’re so terrified of me that your stupid feathercheeks are falling out! Let me get that for you-oops, clumsy me!” He ripped a few of the feathers out, stamping them into the floor. “THIS IS FOR NOT DYING SOONER! THIS IS REVENGE FOR THAT TIME YOU HUMILIATED ME IN FRONT OF THE PRESS! THIS IS FOR EVERY SECOND YOUR UGLY MUG EXISTS, THE LOT OF YOU!” 

After several minutes of smashing everything in sight, he stepped on the TV remote. The screen flickered to life. 

Glomgold’s eyes widened. After four agonizing, painful hours, he had done it! He broke Beaks! 

Beaks lay on the countertop by the shrimp, his phone resting face-down on his chest. He plucked one from the pile, tossing aside the tail. 

“I can’t believe this,” Beaks said. 

“YES!” Glomgold exclaimed. 

Suddenly a grin crossed his face. “I have found those two on social media at long last!” Beaks smirked. “Prepare for flames!” 

“WHAT?” Glomgold screamed. “NO! GORGE IN DESPAIR! YOU AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE DOING A STUPID VICTORY DANCE!” 

Outraged, he threw the remote through the screen, cracking it. 

“You’d think someone would try to appreciate the effort I put into my plans,” Glomgold scoffed to Scrooge #187. 

At long last, the moment of triumph was in his grasp. “Well, well. If it isn’t my second most hated person in the world,” Glomgold declared. “You dared to be my competitor, and you shall pay for your transgress-hey, pay attention to your own demise! I don’t see any agony!” 

Beaks held his phone above the water, grabbing hold of the shark’s fin. “Ha! Shark tank yolo!” he laughed. “I should totally get one of these babies for me!” 

“Shark Guy! Why aren’t the sharks attempting to feast on his remains?” Glomgold demanded. 

Shark Guy shrugged. “I haven’t gotten around to training these two for your evil schemes yet.” 

“WELL, GET ON IT THEN!” Glomgold roared, and Shark Guy cowered. “EAT HIM! CRUSH HIM! CHASE HIM OUT OF THE POOL UNTIL HE FALLS BLINDLY INTO THE LAVA!” 

Next to him, Scrooge #187′s other featherduster fell off, dropping into the lava below. Beaks continued to take pictures with the sharks, completely oblivious to the lava he was supposed to die in. 

“FINE! NOBODY LISTEN TO ME!” Glomgold snarled, lifting Scrooge #187 above his head. He might as well take what little victory he could get now. Before he could send Scrooge #187 to his doom, the railing broke and sent him plummeting to the molten rock below. 

“I hate you. I hate you so much,” Glomgold grumbled, folding his arms as best he could with the handcuffs. 

“The feeling is mutual,” Scrooge replied, a smug grin on his face. “You and Beaks were lucky Launchpad crashed through Krakatoa when he did.” 

Glomgold paid little attention to the sound of Donald’s furious quacks at Beaks. Something about exploiting his boys at Waddle. He didn’t really care. 

Scrooge gestured to his practice dummy with his cane. “Losing your touch, Flinty. You just haven’t been able to top the one made out of fool’s gold.” 

“Shut up,” Glomgold muttered. 

[osang171819]

A Quarter Canvas

By Rosario Patino-Yap

 Borja St., Caritan Sur:

The last of the moving van left.  I had spent the morning running around the bungalow that had been home to Harold and me. I wandered through the house to see if anything precious was left behind.  No, nothing was forgotten.  Except for the potted mums that lined the curving pathway.  They were newly-watered and weeded.  Looking up the heavens in colorful blooms.  

My “sunny side up” house echoed in silence.  The sunshine yellow house earned that monicker because of my penchant for the color.   Inside, no single bric-a-brac that had filled up every nook and cranny was left.   The miniature windmill replica Harold bought in Bangui, Ilocos Sur, the rattan hammock that had hung in the verandah, the butaca that had soothed my aching body and soul – all were spirited away in the giant snails called “Aloha Moves It.”  

Outside the house, the children played “tumbang preso” and “sha-tong.  Summer was when children played these indigenous games of tag.   Every now and then, the patpat flew in the air and the children scampered to catch this thin sliver of stick.  The morning air was punctuated by gleeful shrieks from the children. So carefree and dead to the cares of the world.   The reality reared its ugly head when an ambulant peddler hollered “taho” in the distance.  While the neighborhood maglalako shouted off her paninda for the day.

“Ano ba Totoy?  Kay aga-aga magtatambay ka na naman dine sa tindahan ko?” Manang Luning’s voice boomed inside her sari-sari store.  She was asking for the nth time why Totoy loitered early in front of her store.  “Hala, dun ka sa DOTA.net magtambay,” she shooed away the teenager.  Like swatting a fly off of one’s food.

“Naku naman, Aling Luning, hindi po wi-fi area itong tindahan nyo,” Totoy retorted. He sheepishly lumbered away from the store.

A dog barked at an unseen cat.  The hum of a washing machine had started a neighbor’s day.   A balmy air blew and the clothes that hung from the clothesline flapped about madly. They made snapping sounds.    In my mind, I had hung clothes out to dry in that clothesline, too.  I had carefully slipped shirts into plastic hangers.  I had clipped pants onto the line so they dangled there like rows of people doing headstands.  They evoked images of torsos, their arms and heads chopped off by some unseen hands.  

I stood near the window for a while listening to these familiar sounds.   It seemed a cacophony of loved and hated realities of Borja Street.    As I stood in the window, I knew my co-teacher Nica was getting ready for work.  Armed with her shoulder bag and a luggage that carried her instructional materials, she waited for the tricycle.   Nearby, Bryan was displaying wares in his e-bookstore.   It promised another busy day for him.

Rousing myself from the reverie, I dusted off the dust and cobwebs that clung to my skinny jeans and tattered halter top. How did these silky threads reach me? I wondered. Tracing the source of the cobwebs, I stood transfixed for a moment at the intricate web.  An industrious spider might have spun from one window grill to another when we were not looking.   I suddenly noticed the errant tears on my cheeks - and hastily wiped them.  

My feet led me to the master’s bedroom - just my OC self doing her work.   I unlocked the built-in drawer I seldom opened.  I cannot even recall what was in it.  I took out a set of keys and tried each one of them.   I finally inserted one and the lock clicked open.   The air of many years escaped the moment I opened the drawer.   It was strange how the years can seep into thing.  It called to mind sepia pictures taken by a photographer who had to cover himself together with the huge camera.  

  A silent gasp escaped from my parched throat. There, hidden in the back panels of the drawer, forgotten and tucked for what seemed to be ages, was Samuel’s painting. It was a “thank you” present he gave me.    Weathered and old, the canvas smelled musty.  

I took the painting out of the drawer.  I gingerly touched it, fearful by doing so it might crumble or smudge off.   It seemed cool and soft to my touch.  I turned it around.   I squinted to read the scrawled note on the edge.  

“Dear Ma’am Rhodora, you were the powder keg that sparked my interest to achieve and have a life.  Till we meet again. Your best student Samuel”

How long has it been since the painting was given me?

 Primero High School  

           The acacia-lined campus was abuzz. Everywhere, academic discussion and multiple intelligence tasks filled up every classroom of the landmark high school. I sauntered proudly to my room in the Special Program in the Arts building.  It seemed another ordinary day for me.  I looked forward to some colorful exchange of ideas with my budding artists and grandmasters.

           “Mune kamu ta balay na artista yra” greeted me in the stairwell.   It welcomed everyone to the abode of the SPA students.  A peep into the rooms was like a show window of aspiring dancers, singers, painters, writers and media practitioners.  It had always seemed like a preparation for the annual arts festival. Or of the local Pavvurulun.

            “Yeah!!!! SPA rocks!!!” Samuel slurred as he strutted inside my classroom during recess.  Bloodshot eyes, fleeting eye contact, tottering steps- tell tale signs of something bad.  His arm had wounds which were probably self-inflicted as he was wont to do.   I worried at the ease of how he sneaked in.  After all, “The Terminator” was known for his hawk-like vigilance at the gate.  

Seeing me as I enter the classroom, Sandra my student, intercepted me.

“Teacher, iba po ang amoy ni Samuel,” she muttered under her breath.  But it was loud enough for me to hear.   He was telling me that Samuel reeked of liquor.  Even without this information, I knew Samuel was drunk.

As if on cue, Samuel noticed my presence.  With pleading eyes and a plaintiff wail, he whimpered, “Teacher, may I just talk to Giselle? Di po nya kasi sinasagot ang mga text ko.”   He informed me of their usual lovers’ spat.  Gisele had refused to answer his text messages again.  

He staggered towards Giselle’s seat but he tripped on his shoelaces.  Just as soon, he vomited.

“Oh no!” Giselle screamed in embarrassment. Her scream was like a clarion call for chaos. The class turned into a bedlam.  Everyone tried to avoid his outstretched flailing arms.  And the gooey puddle of his lunch.  Some ran to the back of the room.  A few climbed my table.  Others rushed out to call the guards.  All the while, I stood in the middle of the surging tide.

 Samuel was plastered on the floor.  The room hushed into silence.  Then, like a torrent of rain, his tears came unbidden.  The silent and shameless tears that he seemed to have kept at bay fell.  It stained and wetted his immaculate uniform.  He was curled like a baby inside his mother’s womb and he sobbed inconsolably.

 Trying to put some semblance of order inside my classroom, I pulled him up.  All 65 kilos of him was forcibly pulled by my small hands.  The force - or lack of it, I did not notice- sobered him.  He looked lost and embarrassed all of a sudden.  He turned to look at the faces of classmates who gawked at the spectacle.  

“I am sorry.  Oh I am so sorry,” he repeated.

A whistle was sounded. The class was a Red Sea that parted to let the rushing “Terminator” in. Two others were in tow.

“Teacher Rhodora, are you okay?” he asked while he surveyed the situation.  The ruckus had reached the guard house and the guidance services.  Poor Samuel, he reminded me of a prisoner walking towards the guillotine.  His shadowed face cast me a forlorn look.

“Honey, are we set?” my husband Harold’s voice brought me back from that day. Back to the present where I now sit and listened.    I smiled sheepishly for being caught unaware then I replied,” Yup, just about.”

I reached for his hand and I stood up.   As if hearing his voiceless question, I added, “It’s just that I wanted to double check the house before we left.  Then here, I remember the painting given by a former student,” I added.

Harold, noticing the cubism painting in my hands, reached out and brought it into the light.  He examined the painting of a mysterious lady with a poignant sad look on her eye.   An empty rattan crib before her.  The painting seemed to echo my disillusionment of trying to conceive for the longest time.  It seemed a dirge to my failed attempts at motherhood.  Bittersweet and the pain unfathomed.  A silent scream that I have quieted.

“Dear Ma’am Rhodora, you were the powder keg that sparked my interest to achieve and have a life.  Till we meet again. Your best student Samuel” Harold read.  He stood silent for a few moments.  Lost, too, in the message that the painting whispered.  

“How long has it been since he was advised by the school to transfer?” he asked.

   Again, nostalgia beckoned me.  A wave that rushed back to shore after straying in the ocean.   The memories came back unbidden after five years.  

 After thorough investigation and several “call parents,” Samuel was advised to leave the school.  He violated rules and regulations.  His classmates were somber on the day he said goodbye.  I had a fleeting remembrance of him when he first came to my freshmen class. All innocence and raw Ben-Cab talent.  I knew then that with proper tutelage and constant practice, he would be a grandmaster. But where had all the innocence and that raw talent gone?  What happened in between, I sadly pondered.

 I recalled the week after he transferred school.  I had my classroom all by myself.  The periodic exams were set for the next day hence classrooms had been thoroughly cleaned. Classes were shortened for the purpose. The smell of newly-applied floor wax hung heavy in the air.  The armchairs were one seat apart.   All systems go for the exams.

  I sat to enjoy my late lunch of lechon carajay, eggplant omelet and tomatoes laced with boneless CK bagoong.  An iced cold soda perspired beside my Tupperware.  And the chewy yema I made the night before promised sweet heaven.  That sumptuous feast of deep fried pork and fish sauce plus the caramel could lull one to sleep on that balmy afternoon.  

The birds chirped on the ancient acacia trees that dotted the campus.  The lilting melody of the ice cream vendo machine could be heard in the distance.  The orbit fan hummed and it joined their symphony.  Ah, one of life’s simple pleasures, I sighed.  

Suddenly, I heard a soft- it not, timid- knock on the door.  Samuel stood outside it.   He entered the room carrying a big package wrapped in newspaper.  He looked his usual old self – immaculate but different school uniform, polished black leather shoes, sun browned face and Gatsbied hair.   He walked his cocky walk and a shy smile crept on his lips.   I saw a glimpse of the freshman that he was three years before.  He came near me and off-handedly gave me the package.

“What is this?” I asked in surprise.  I reached for my soda to wash down the last of the carajay.

“It’s a gift, teacher.  Open it,” he replied.

“Oh you shouldn’t have bothered.”  I felt uneasy for what looked like an extravagant gift. But I fumbled to unwrap the gift.  I looked at him.  He gazed out of the windows –avoiding my gaze.  I waited for him to say something.   I knew he had much to say.

“I thank you for never giving up on me, Teacher Rhods” he went on after what seemed like forever. “I realized now that I needed your criticism and your pieces of advice. You kept on at me, despite the others giving up.  That had kept me grounded.  It put some sense into my muddled head.”  He smiled shyly when he said this.

“Oh, that’s what teachers are for,” I replied.  I might have sounded flippant to him.  Disbelief on the sudden change probably showed in my face because a cloud flitted on his black eyes.  But he regained his ground and continued.

“Maybe, God wisely designed the human body so that man can never kick his own self nor pat his own back. Through my rebellious period, you were my parola.”  

I tried to swallow the air that blocked my throat.  Emotions rendered my tongue immobile.  To be compared to a lighthouse echoed in my head.  I tried to say a wisecrack or a sensible advice.  Nothing came handy.

“Oh by the way teacher, I drew that painting for you. A keepsake.”  With those words, he walked away as quickly and as silently as he entered.  

   “Earth to Rhodora.  Paging my dear Rhodora.   Whoever saw my sweet Rhodora, please direct her to where I stand.”

The voice of my husband reverberated in the silent room. His voice and his smiling face jolted me from my reverie - the second time that day. I noticed that I have been revisiting the past.   I laughed so happily that he couldn’t help but join me in my laughter.

“Tell me honey,” I asked Harold, “What did my student mean when he said I was a powder keg?”

 Kissing my hand and holding me in his arms, Harold answered, “Maybe because you had stepped on stage in his darkest moment and had led him out of the dark, then you stepped down and watched him move forward. But your single act of gesture has become the ember that will keep him on the right track wherever life leads him.”

That made sense.

“And maybe, just maybe,” he said sotto voce, and with a twinkle in his eyes,” because you never seemed to grow old, a fresh red rose ever since.  The guidance you showed had ignited his passion to live.  And hopefully, his passion for the visual arts because he seemed to have lots of promise.”

A wistful sigh escaped from me.    In the distance, a bus sounded its horn.  A neighbor’s dog barked at the playing children.  Manang Luning’s voice competed with the local radio station.  The din sounded so familiar that it brought back memories of happy years spent in my “sunny side up.”  I don’t know when I started thinking of it as my “sunny side up” home but it always warmed my heart.

The memories came back so vividly.  A movie reel that had gone backwards.   I could hear the sounds and see the pictures again.   It brought to my mind the nights when there were power outages.   Everyone was outside his house and just sat under the moonlit night.  The mosquitoes were swatted as everyone swapped local tales and rumors. The balut vendor would pass by and offer his pampalakas ng tuhod  na balut or penoy as aphrodisiacs for the men.  The ubiquitous barbecue stood laden with barbecue, hotdog, isaw, betamax, and iud.  I saw the children playing hide and seek or san pedro till fatigue and sleep beckoned them.  Online games, tablets, and  X-box were unknown then.

It replayed scenes during summers where the popular halo-halo stands dissipated the sweltering heat.  If not swarming these ice havens, the children used to have a grand time climbing up the fruits trees. They would help themselves to Lolo Ifan’s mangga, duhat and kallupit.  The old folks would do their siesta under the trees or played tong-its.

Again in my de javued mind, I recall Nino, Julius, and Jessem playing ungoy-unggoyan while Chloe and her sister Jiya straddled their trainer bikes. Everyone seemed unmindful of the unending investigation of the SAF incident, or the milk tea poisoning or the corruption of government officials

   But it was time to move into our new home a block away from the old one.   It was time to savor the good life after a couple of years eking out a living.   It was time to quit renting the “sunny side up.” And it was time to leave the painting to the new lessee of the house - Samuel’s long lost father.  

 Sometimes, life is serendipitous. Who would have thought that the man who wanted to rent the “sunny side up” was his father?   Again, I looked back on that meeting with Samuel’s father.   Seeing him again who accompanied his father earlier that week - pieced together the puzzle.

“My wife and I parted ways.  Looking back, the blow was hard for Samuel to understand,” he broached.

“So he rebelled,” I said softly. My heart aching for those children caught in the crossfire of dysfunctional marriages.   It was sad how more and more families throw in the towel and quit the fight for family.  

  Talking to him for some time that day opened the door. It answered the questions that crossed my mind when his son stopped painting and quit being top student.  It filled the gaps of those times when nobody responded to my “call parents”- those letters that requested parents’ meeting.

Samuel that day, a picture of his old self, reassured me,” I am okay now, Ma’am. Life may not be fair but it is still life I would like to live.”

In my mind, I watched them walk away together.  A father and a son trying to be family despite being a far cry from the ideal.

 We had spent our days and nights in this house.  I had slept on my butaca, its rocking motion soothing me on those turbulent nights when I had to come to terms with my miscarriages.  The motion was like my mind, moving from today to yesterday and back. But the present has a clearer purpose now.

 With light steps and a radiant smile brought about by knowing I had helped a poor child get his acts together despite his dysfunctional family, I hooked my arm onto Harold’s arm.  We walked out of the old house and headed east to where our new “ube-ice cream colored” house awaited us.  In the distance, I saw the sun diffusing its yellow light on the world.  I looked up and welcomed it.

[bkwrm523]

The Neighbors All Know His Name (It’s Sensei)

Title: The Neighbors All Know His Name (It’s Sensei) Rating: Explicit Pairing: Leonardo/reader Word Count: 3762 Warnings: Smut, bondage, dom/sub, sex between a mutated ninja turtle and a human reader. Tags: @mysupernaturalfics (you put yourself on my everything tags, don’t yell at me!) @vintagevalentinexx @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @cookingglitterfairy @kittenofdoomage @catsoftheapocalypse @castiels-sweet-little-grace  Summary: Leonardo and his girlfriend enjoy a romantic dinner.  And then other stuff. Author’s Note: A few notes.  For one, a lot of my followers/peeps consider this outside their comfort zone.  NOBODY IS OBLIGATED TO READ THIS.  I will give no one any crap unless it’s teasing.  For reals.  Two, beta’d by the amazing @feelmyroarrrr , and thanks go to my wifey @castiels-sweet-little-grace for cheering me on.  And @pink-ink-slinger​ (now deactivated) is the blog I used as research to get to know Leonardo and figure out how I was going to write him.

“Hey, Leo, think fast!”  Michelangelo's voice interrupted Leonardo’s meditation second before something small and noisy came hurtling at Leo’s head.  He caught it, just in time to realize that it was his ringing cell phone.

“Hey, Leo.”  Y/n, Leo’s girlfriend, greeted him before he could speak.

“Y/n.”  Leo replied, the smile on his face involuntary.  “Not calling to cancel tonight, are you?”  He couldn’t help but worry a little; he missed her, and he’d been looking forward to a private dinner with her tonight.

“Of course not.”  She reassured him quickly.  “I have an important question for you, though.”

“...okay.”

“How do you feel about whole wheat pizza crust?”

“...Y/n, it’s 8:30 in the morning, and you’re asking me about pizza?”

“One, you’ve been up since at least six.  Two, I need to know now so I know whether to buy white flour or whole wheat flour for tonight.”

There was a long moment of silence.  She’s making me pizza?  Leo thought, a little dazed at the idea.  She’s making me pizza.  She can make pizza.  From scratch.

“Leo,” Y/n spoke up after a moment, interrupting his train of thought.  “If you say aloud what you’re thinking right now, we are not going to be able to get rid of your brothers.”

“Right.  Sorry.  U-ummm… just, uh, what-whatever you want is fine.”  Leo replied finally, stuttering as he tried to contain his excitement.

“Leo.”

“Sorry.  Yeah.  Uh, I mean, whole wheat is better for you, and all, but it, uh, it just-”

“Doesn’t taste the same.”  Y/n finished for him.  “White it is.  See you tonight.”  She hung up before he could stutter a reply.

Right.  Now all Leo had to do was keep calm and keep his brothers from finding out that Leo’s girlfriend was making him pizza tonight.

***

“Hey, Leo.”  Mikey popped out from behind a corner as soon as Leo finished his morning meditation.

“Hey, Mikey.”  Leo replied.  The extra meditation had helped him calm down after the call from Y/n, and he was confident he’d be able to act normal enough to fool his brothers.

“You were in there, like, forever.  Something up, bro?”  Mikey asked.

“No, nothing’s wrong, Mikey.”  Leo replied, brushing off his hyper baby brother’s concern.  “You should try meditation sometimes.  Really helps keep me focused.”  Leonardo gave Mikey a pointed look, as the younger turtle almost fell off the ledge he was perched on.

“What?”  Mikey asked, barely regaining his balance.

“Mikey has a point.”  Donnie chimed in from his desk.  “You exceeded the average range of morning meditation times by 45 minutes.  Last time I saw you take this long was when you and Y/n had a fight.”

“Wonder boy and Y/n fighting?”  Raphael joined in, hopping down from his weightlifting area.

“We are not fighting!”  Leo insisted, his frustration growing.

“Must’ve been something serious if Leo was meditating for so long.”  Donnie continued, ignoring Leo’s denial as though he hadn’t spoken.

“All right, what’d you do?”  Mikey asked.  “Come on, let the Mikester fix it.”

“We’re not fighting!”  Leo yelled.

“What else woulda made you meditate so long?”  Raph replied suspiciously.

“You almost missed lunch!”  Naturally, that’s what Michelangelo was concerned about; food.

“I’m just- she’s making dinner tonight, all right?”  Leo admitted.  Maybe that would be enough to make them leave him alone about it.

“Ooooh, that’s what got you excited?”  Naturally, the food is what got Mikey’s attention.  “What’s she making, bro?”

“Mikey!”  Raphael admonished the youngest turtle before Leo could.

“What?  I was just wondering if she’s making enough for-”

“Mikey, come on.”  Donnie spoke up this time.  “Give them some space, all right?”

“Come on, bro.”  Raph spoke again, spinning Mikey away from Leo.  “We’ll order out from that place you like tonight.”  Michelangelo followed Raph, chattering excitedly already about the prospective feast.

“You should bring her dessert.”  Donnie suggested to Leo.

“Right, sure, Donnie.  I’ll just run up to the store.”  Leo spat back sarcastically.

“Or you could bring this.”  Donnie spun in his office chair, pulling something out of a compartment and laying it on top of the desk.

Y/n’s favorite flavor of pie.

“How did you hide this from Mikey?”  Leo asked after a moment, astonishment briefly stealing his voice.

“I have my ways.”  Donnie replied mysteriously.  “Been saving it.  Go ahead, take it with you tonight.”

“Thanks, Donnie.”  The two brothers shared a smile.

***

You put the finishing touches on your outfit, looking at yourself in the mirror with a critical eye.  You spent hours while the pizza dough was rising deciding what to wear.  You’d ended up deciding on dressing more formally, grabbing a blue dress from the back of your closet.  When in doubt, you’d decided, go with your boyfriend’s signature color.  You’d thought about using candles, but your nerves combined with the threat of fire made you decide against it.

The pizza was still in the oven, and with a glance at the clock, you hurried over to check on it.  Not burned yet, you discovered, and it looked just about done.

“Wow.”  Came a familiar male voice from behind you.  You set the pan with the pizza down on top of the stove, discarding the oven mitts before you turned around.  Leo had cleaned up for tonight; he looked and smelled perfect, and his usual pants were clean.  He shifted his weight, uncharacteristically nervous as he took you in with an expression of awe.  You flushed at the unspoken compliment, glancing down before the pie in his hand caught your eye.

“Oh, here, I’ll take that.”  You spoke up, grabbing the pie from him and setting it on the counter.  “Thank you!”  You turned your back to your boyfriend, setting the pie on the counter and reaching for a serving dish for it.  You had time to set the dish on the counter before you felt one of his large hands gently spin you to face him.  You breath caught a little, his much larger frame backing you into the counter.  You always felt safe with him, but the way he loomed over you sometimes made you wet for him.  You were sure he knew it, too.

“You look amazing.”  Leonardo told you firmly, capturing you with his blue eyes.  You swallowed, unable to speak until he smirked at you.  He cupped your cheek with his free hand, leaning down to kiss you.  Your eyes slid shut, and you went on your toes out of habit to meet him, letting out a soft moan as he kissed you gently.  You rested your hands on his plastron, leaning into him as his arms went around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.  He finally broke the kiss, letting you half fall into him and pant as he nuzzled your hair.

“We’re gonna eat first though, right?”  You asked, still a little breathless.

“You made pizza.  You even have to ask?”  Leo replied, his voice light and his smile audible.  You laughed a little, pushing away from him to get plates for you both on wobbly legs.

You giggled a little when he dug into his pizza; he and his brothers all went nuts for it, but you were still in love with the rare moments that turned him into an enormous child.  You’d put his favorite toppings on his pizza, and now it was clearly paying off.

“You look incredible tonight.”  Leo complimented you in between bites.  You looked up at him, seeing his eyes lingering on the curve of your neck, and flushed from the attention.  You knew from experience that the hunger in his eyes meant that he was eager to litter your neck with hickeys.

“Th-thank you.”  You stuttered out a reply, dropping your eyes back to your plate as you forced yourself to take another bite, unable to maintain contact with Leo’s startlingly blue eyes.

“I feel a little underdressed.”  Leonardo continued conversationally.

“No, you look amazing!”  You protested quickly, looking back up at him.  And he did; sans armor, katanas left by the door.  Clean and polished, you couldn’t wait to touch him.

If he let you.

A bashful smile grew on his face, making you smile in return.  But his smile quickly grew hungry and promising, as he eyed you.

“Would you take off your dress for me, tenshi?  It would make me feel less underdressed.”  Leo asked, breaking the silence just as you were reaching for a slice of pie.  You froze mid reach, swallowing hard as desire made it hard to process his words.

“Um.”  You cleared your throat, standing from the chair.  “Sure.”

You’d picked a dress that was loose enough on you that it was easy to slip off.  You could hardly have called Leo to help you zip anything up, after all.  You slid the straps off your shoulders, wiggling a little until the dress pooled on the floor at your feet, and stepping out of it.  Your bra and underwear, plain but for a little lace, were both a solid blue.  The same shade as Leonardo’s mask.  You tried to look innocent, only partly succeeding, as you stood exactly where you were and stared at Leo, awaiting further instructions.

“Is this what you wanted, Sensei?”  You asked, carefully keeping your tone innocent.  Leonardo swallowed, and stared at you, his eyes roaming your body for a long moment before he spoke.

“Hai, tenshi.”  Leonardo took a plate, putting a slice of pie on it and setting it where you’d been sitting.  “Eat your pie.”  You stepped out of the dress on the floor, the chair a little cold to your suddenly bare skin.  You cleared your throat again, searching for a moment before you saw a clean fork, grabbing it and digging into the pie.

It was delicious, but you hardly noticed the taste.  You could feel Leo’s eyes on you the whole time, drinking you in.  You ate your slice in small bites, not wanting to risk choking with the way Leo was eyeing you like you were his dessert.

“What are you thinking about, tenshi?”  Leo asked, breaking the silence.  The question was innocent; ‘tenshi’ was something he called you both in the bedroom and in front of his brothers.  But his tone was anything but innocent.  His voice had dropped into a lower register that had you wet just hearing him.

“You, sensei.”  You risked a glance back up at him; his gorgeous blue eyes were dark with lust, and his pupils nearly drowned out the blue.  His questions had been a request and an offer, to play with him tonight.  Leo was always careful with you, and never took anything you didn’t want to give.  You calling him ‘sensei’ was your acceptance of the offer.  The heat in your exchanged stares grew until you squirmed in your chair, nearly ready to lunge at him in desperate need.

“Finish your pie.”  Leo said, almost curtly.  He broke the stare and looked down at his own plate, focusing on his slice of pie.  “When you’re done, I will want my dessert.”

Shit.  Shit shit shit shit shit.  You stared at him for a moment, unable to speak or think beyond what he’d just promised.  You managed to gather yourself after a moment, however.  “Yes, Sensei.”  You breathed in a barely audible whisper, before attacking your half-finished slice of pie.  You took bigger bites, hurrying through the slice with trembling hands.  Soon enough, it was gone, and you quickly looked up at Leonardo for instructions.  Moving painfully slowly, he finished his bite, and wiped his mouth on his napkin before looking up at your plate.

“Very good, my love.”  Leonardo stood then, extending an arm to you.  You rose from your seat and took it, following him as he lead you around the table and started walking towards the bedroom.  Your heart beat fast and loud in your ears, and you couldn’t help but breath faster in excitement.

“I can smell how excited you are, tenshi.”  Leo purred in your ear as he moved you both into the bedroom, shutting the door behind you.  He already had rope looped around your bed’s headboard.  You’d long since stopped being surprised at some of the antics from your ninja boyfriend, and didn’t stop to wonder when he’d put them there.

Leo loomed behind you, pulling your back to rest against his chest, and leaned down to nuzzle your neck as his hands got a firm grasp on your hips.  You moaned softly and tilted your head to the side, exposing more skin for him as he bit and sucked at your neck, moving methodically down to touch every inch of you.

“Leo,” you gasped, helplessly stimulated by his lips and teeth.  He loved to attack your neck and collarbone, for some reason.  It worked out, as he quickly discovered that your neck was one of the more sensitive areas on you.  He’d spent ages tying you up and just sucking on your neck in the past, until you were crying and pleading him for more.

His grip on your hips tightened, and he lifted you in the air, pulling you up until he didn’t have to crane down to reach the rest of your neck.  You gasped, still startled by his casual display of strength, and reached back to rest one hand on the back of his head, needing to touch him somehow.  Leo hummed into your skin, sucking harder at a patch of skin until you cried out again.  You shut your eyes, barely noticing the sensation of movement until his lips detached from your neck and you felt your back hit the bed.

“Move to the center of the bed, and put your hands above your head.”  Leonardo casually ordered, turning his back and reaching for the belt buckle of his pants.  You scrambled to obey, craning your head up to watch him shed his pants and turn back to you.

The bed moved as Leonardo knelt on it, moving until his knees were near your hips, and leaning up to pull at the ropes on the headboard.  It was a moment’s work to tie your unresisting hands to the headboard.  Which was fortunate, as the temptation to lick the skin near your face was almost too tempting to resist.  You restrained yourself, however; he’d be less than happy, and you wanted to be good for him tonight.

His cock was out and erect, you saw, and you licked your lips subconsciously, eager to taste him and feel him inside you.

Leo sat back on his haunches, looking down at your writhing form on the bed.  You panted; all of his teasing at the table had gotten you more than ready for him, and now he was just sitting there staring.  With nothing you could do about it.

“Sensei,” you whined, unable to help yourself from complaining.  Leonardo lifted an eyebrow at you.

“Use your words, tenshi.”  Leo commanded you softly.  He ran a finger gently up your side, making you shiver.  “What do you desire?”

“Y-uh, you, sensei.  Whatever you want.  Please.”  You moaned, forcing yourself to give the answer you knew he wanted.  Leo growled, making you shiver again.  His hands moved to the front clasp on your bra, undoing it and pushing it out of the way, freeing your breasts.

“Such a good girl tonight,” Leo purred, pouncing on your breasts.  He was always so careful with you, never wanting to hurt you.  Your breasts were the one place he really let himself bite you.  He savagely bit and sucked at your breasts and nipples, leaving red marks and hickeys everywhere.  You tossed your head back and cried his name, wrapping your legs around his hips.  You barely managed to stop yourself from grinding into him, but his work at your breasts was intoxicating.

“Sensei, please!  Need you in me!”  You cried out, desperately panting and whining for him.

“Hmmm,” Leo hummed around a mouthful of your breast.  He released your nipple with a wet pop, and looked up at you.  “You know I have to prepare you first.  Gotta get you ready for me, or it’ll hurt.  You know what that means, tenshi?”  His voice was tense, and you could tell you were getting to him.  You whimpered and dropped your head back to the pillows, squeezing your eyes shut and internally searching for some patience.

His hands at your hips threw any hope of patience you had out the window as he slid your panties down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder into the room somewhere.  You didn’t particularly care where.  Leo moved between your legs, licking your outer folds once, teasingly, before diving into you.

You screamed his name and tugged at the ropes restraining your hands, unable to help yourself.  Leo’s hands framed your hips, holding them in place as his tongue penetrated you, driving you utterly mad.  You kicked the air, your legs flung over his shell, and your eyes rolled back in your head as Leo used his experience in eating you out to drive you right to the edge.  His tongue abruptly pulled out of you, and you almost sobbed aloud, whining and pleading with him.

Then you felt his finger in you.

Leo pushed his (surprisingly thick) finger into you, wiggling it around and going right for your gspot.  His finger curled inside you, making a come hither motion.  As wound up as you were, that was the last straw, and you came suddenly.  Leo’s free hand still had a death grip on your hip, and he sucked your clit into his mouth as his finger stayed inside you, caressing your spasming walls.  You cried his name, your orgasm drawing out almost painfully as he forced you to lie mostly still while he played with your body as easily and skillfully as he used his katanas.

An eternity later, you finally came down, your arched back collapsing down onto the bed.  You panted hard, staring up at the ceiling and focusing on nothing more than catching your breath.  Leo’s face appeared in front of you after a moment, with a tender expression as he held you and planted kisses around your mouth.

“So beautiful,” Leo murmured distractedly.  “Such a good girl tonight.”  Your heart soared a little at his praise; you couldn’t help your reaction whenever he called you a good girl.  It just undid you, every time.

He moved to your neck, nuzzling at first before he graduated to sucking and nipping.    You whined, tired but still aroused, and arched into him.  He was, you suddenly noticed, leaving more hickeys on the other side of your neck, drawing a breathless laugh from you.  Leo didn’t stop to ask what amused you, too taken with his artistry on your neck, but you felt his lips curve up into a smile.  He buried his face in the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking until you arched your back and whined, tugging at the ropes around your wrists in a desperate attempt to touch him, anywhere.  He ground his hips into yours, letting you feel his hard cock grind deliciously against your folds and clit.

“Sensei!  Please!”  You cried out.  Leo hummed thoughtfully, before releasing your neck from his teeth.  You dropped your back down to the bed and gasped for air.

Just as he slowly pushed his cock into you.

The ropes bruised your wrists, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to him desperately as your eyes rolled back into your head at his cock stretching your insides to their limit.  Leo kept pushing into you, slow but steady, biting your shoulder and grunting in an effort to restrain himself.

Finally, he hilted in you and stopped, neither of you moving for a long moment as you tried to adjust.  Leo gave a small moan, barely audible, that went straight through you, making you clench his cock tighter for a moment.  You managed to relax enough for the soreness to subside, leaving you with nothing more than a need for him to move.  You bucked your hips against his to signal your readiness, already driven past the point of speech.

His first thrust rocketed you into the stratosphere, squeezing your eyes shut as tears leaked out of them.  Leo released your shoulder from his teeth, grunting with effort as he thrusted into you.  One arm propped him up, supporting his weight and grabbing your shoulders to hold you still as he pounded you through the bed.  The bed shook, banging the headboard rhythmically into the wall.  You arched up into him, unable to stop pulling at the ropes holding your hands.  It was pointless, and you distantly remembered it; Leonardo was much too practiced at using those ropes to leave any room for you to slip your hands free.  His free hand and mouth roamed your neck and torso; caressing your side, nipping your neck, pinching your nipples… you couldn’t keep track.  A hand slipped between you, caressing your clit until you almost went cross eyed.  You were close, and judging from the noises he was making, he was too.

“Come for me, tenshi.  Now!”  Leo commanded, his voice dark and tense with the effort of holding back his orgasm.  You screamed again, loud enough that they should be able to hear you a few floors below, and came.  Leo’s face dropped into your breasts, following you a few thrusts later.  His cock got bigger inside you, pushing your orgasm higher until it was almost painful.

After you both came down, for a long moment, neither of you moved.  Leo rested much of his weight on his bent arm, not wanting to crush you, and you both just tried to catch your breath.

Leonardo recovered, first, pulling his cock out of you and rolling off you.  He quickly pulled your hands free, and momentarily left the bed.  He returned, and you felt a wet washcloth gently wiping your nethers clean, before he plopped back down next to you on the bed.  You were too exhausted to move, humming happily when he pulled you to him to cuddle.

“Are you well, tenshi?”  Leo asked gently.  You didn’t even try to speak, just making a wordless affirmative noise as you buried your face in his chest.  Leo chuckled softly, planting a kiss on top of your head.  Safe in his arms, you quickly fell asleep.

You’d deal with the noise complaints in the morning.