#so yeah... there's lots i'm thinking about...

[mossy-cobble-slab]

Zedaph: So, have you been practicing your sheepy knowledge every day since you were last on the show?

Mumbo: I've been thinking a lot about sheep and I've been very paranoid of sheep. I've been acknowledging their eyelines. Every time I pass a sheep I've been checking if it's looking at me.

Zedaph: So this show has given you a deep sense of paranoia, is what you're telling me?

Mumbo: Yeah, no. I'm in a bad place.

[foone]

Some technical details under the cut if anyone is interested:

As someone who makes Stupid Keyboards (near to Stupid Mice, and don't think I don't have Stupid Mice ideas): I think this is fake, as in they didn't actually make a Toy Horse That Is A Mouse.

So, first of all, out of context reasons: It was made by Pablo Rochat for Yahoo. He's a director of a group of artists who do marketing stuff for companies. He doesn't have this one on his page yet but based on their other stuff, it seems to be mostly photoshop/video editing based.

And here's the thing: Faking a mouse is frighteningly easy.

Record your screen as you move a real mouse

Play back that video while you move something that's not a real mouse

Done. It looks like it works.

The final reason is that I don't think their lens would work. See, modern optical mice are based on a light + lens + tiny camera. The light shines on the surface so the camera can see the surface move.

The problem is that it's focused right at a set distance, which is supposed to be set to how far the sensor is from the mousepad. Try picking up your optical mouse now (assuming you're not on a phone or laptop): You'll find that it works while not touching the mousepad, but only for a couple millimeters. Once you get farther, it stops.

The reason is the lens: It's trying to get the most contrast possible at a very specific distance, and once you pick it up by more than a few millimeters, it gets too blurry to work.

So lets think about how you'd put a sensor in the horse toy.

The obvious place is in the horse's belly: but then your lens wouldn't work. You'd need a custom lens to make it work. That sounds like a lot of work, and it might not even work with the standard optical chip they use.

The second option would be the hooves. This would work! you're at the right distance, you just need to run the cable down the leg, and you're golden.

Except those hooves are too small. Optical mice are built on standard chips these days:

The chip is a specific size because it is floating over a hole in the PCB. The bottom of the chip is a camera. The lens is a piece of plastic that fits in there. It's hard to tell the scale from this picture I stole, but the problem is the chip is too big to fit down the hoof of that toy horse. Maybe you could do it if you had a horse with some Big Hooves? but there's no way to fit one of these in there. Sorry.

So yeah. They faked it.

Unless they got clever and faked it in another way: That "grass" mousepad could be a tablet. It could be multi-touching the hooves, and then transmitting their location to the PC.

You'd need to wire up the horse so the capacitive touch works, or use a resistive touch screen, but you're still cheating a little.

But all that is hard: faking it completely is easy. So I'm very sure that's what they did. I'd do the same if I was doing art as a client of a company and I had a deadline. It doesn't affect the video if this is "real" or "fake".

btw: I don't say this to lessen anyone's enjoyment of it or as a "callout", I'm just interested in "how real is this" as someone who makes Weird Tech Art too.

Bruh

[ckret2]

It's fic time. The Axolotl tries to persuade Bill to face what happened to his dimension while Bill tries to avoid that literally any way possible.

This is part 8 of a 9 part plot about the Axolotl meeting this friendly harmless innocent little triangle in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre and gradually learning he's literally the worst person ever. If you want to read and/or look at the pretty art on the other parts, here's one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.

(WARNING in this one for nonspecific but pretty obvious suicidal ideation)

####

The triangle whirled around as a milky white void closed in around him. "Whoa whoa hey! What is this? How'd I get here?"

"Welcome to my office. You're in a time and space outside time and space," the Axolotl said. "Take a seat. I have a very comfortable bean bag chair."

The triangle did not take a seat. He pointed at the Axolotl like an angry arrow. "What did you do! If you don't put me back now—"

"Don't worry. When we leave this space, you will be where and when you were. Think of this like a dream."

Furiously, the triangle burst into a ball of bright blue flame. It reeked of burning hydrogen—the stench of the fabric of reality itself burning away to nothing. But he, himself, didn't burn. What was fueling his flames? "Yeah?! Well, dreams are my business!" A wave of blue flames surged toward the Axolotl.

And dissipated without touching him. The Axolotl's eyes glowed white. "THIS IS MY DREAM, TRIANGLE—NOT YOURS!"

The triangle shrank down. He squeaked, "Got it." He quietly perched one edge on the Axolotl's bean bag chair. He didn't look at the Axolotl. He was staring up around them at the Axolotl's tank.

The Axolotl's eyes dimmed again to black voids. He settled back, trying to look unthreatening now that the triangle wasn't fighting him. "Do you see something?"

The triangle laughed uneasily. "Not aside from a whole lot of white."

"You keep looking up," the Axolotl said.

"Up?" the triangle said, confused; then apparently figured out what the Axolotl meant and snapped his gaze down to meet his again. "I never—haven't been able to see the stars before," he said, trying not to sound self-conscious even as he slowly tinted red again. "I've never seen anything that could block them. Except you."

Except him. The guy who passed the wall every day on his way to work; the eclipse that blocked out the sun once a year. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize." The walls of the tank seemingly dissolved, letting the triangle see the scene beyond: the glittery cotton candy celestial clouds of his home.

"Hey, I wasn't complaining! You're the one who asked." But the triangle had already visibly relaxed. He still wasn't looking at the Axolotl; but now, he was staring around at the unfamiliar new constellations with wonder.

It was the most unguarded the Axolotl had ever seen him. They didn't have much spare time; but the Axolotl couldn't bring himself to interrupt this brief peace.

After a moment, the triangle gestured toward the sky and said, "So, you—call that direction 'up.'"

"Yes?" the Axolotl said. "Is that strange?"

"No! Nooo no no. Just seems like it might be confusing, trying to tell apart north-up from star-up."

How odd. "We don't usually call north 'up'."

"Oh," the triangle said, voice small and sheepish.

"Some planetbound mortals do. But usually only when they're—" Oh. "... looking at maps." The world printed on a paper 2D plane. Like the plane the triangle had come from.

For all his power, his charisma, his bravado—the triangle was still just a lost little refugee from a flat little world. He held a whole universe in his hand, and he didn't even know up from down. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to him.

"Listen to me," the Axolotl said. "You're in a lot of trouble. I'm sure you know that."

The triangle scoffed. "Tell me something new."

"How much of our discussion did you hear?"

"Just something about rebuilding the higher dimensions' foundations. Which is exactly what I told you to do! You mind your business, I'll mind mine!"

He suspected the triangle had heard more than that. "It's not that simple. They can't rebuild the foundation until the fires are out. So, as long as your actions keep setting new ones..."

"A-ha. So that's why you're here," the triangle said. "They sent you to intimidate me into letting 'em condemn my dimension."

"No." It was true enough that they had sent the Axolotl to try to talk the triangle down. And yes, he would if he could—he certainly didn't want to see all of reality destroyed—but he wasn't primarily here to help the other gods. "I'm here to help you."

The Axolotl had watched how this triangle puppeted corpses and terrified the barely-living into dancing along to his tune. He had seen the dying and dead melted together into oversized composite corpses at the triangle's party; and he'd seen how the triangle's unhappy victims tumbled down into his hell. He'd seen how blue flames flared around the triangle in his anger, and how his lines of fire warped, melted, and consumed whole universes, and how he burned mortals down to the soul with his mere gaze. He'd felt how all of Dimension Zero moved when the triangle moved.

This triangle, this poor child, was a monster.

The Axolotl wore many faces. He'd been a psychopomp, a god of death. He'd changed roles so he could help the dead he escorted reach better futures—now he was a god of rebirth, a god of second chances, a god of justice.

And in his capacity as a god of justice, he'd proudly defended the villains that no one else would defend. He did not believe in punishment. It was too late to save the villains' victims, and no amount of punishment would ever change that; but it was not too late to save the villains.

He was god of death, god of rebirth, god of second chances, god of justice—and also a god of monsters. And he'd decided this monster was under his protection.

Dubiously, the triangle said, "So they sent you as my legal counsel."

Oh, for— "No. I'm just trying to give you advice."

"Even better—pro bono legal counsel!" 

"You're not my client," the Axolotl said. "But I'll advise you as a friend. I can tell you your options as I see them. We can discuss them if you'd like. You may ask me one question, and no more."

"What? Why—" The triangle caught himself and struggled to rephrase. "That's a—stupid rule—that I want an explanation for!"

"Because I'm the Axolotl."

"What does that have t— I don't know what that has to do with anything!"

"I'm the only one who gets to ax a lotl questions."

The triangle stared at him. He burst out laughing. "I think I hate you!"

The Axolotl gave him a wide, gummy grin.

"St—stop that! It makes you even more ugly, ugh. I thought you were here to give me advice, not bad jokes." The triangle made a show of leaning back as though getting comfortable, although it was clear he was uneasy touching the bean bag chair. "So advise me, pink stuff."

"I preferred 'frills.'" Gently, the Axolotl said, "I think it's in your best interests to give yourself up to the divine authorities."

The triangle laughed in disbelief. "You're kidding. Hey, I heard your pals talking about how they can't fight me without knocking the multiverse down—"

"And once they've put up a fireproof foundation you can't burn your way through, there will no longer be any risk to the multiverse if they come after you."

"Sounds to me like a good reason to make sure they don't get that foundation in place!"

"For you to do enough damage to ensure they can't construct a foundation, you'd probably knock the multiverse down yourself," the Axolotl said. "And if that's the case, they'll have nothing to lose by trying to stop you anyway, and everything to lose by not trying."

The belligerence leeched out of the triangle's face by the word. "Oh. Yeah. I guess that's... yeah," he said.  "Okay." His expression was faraway for a moment, as he tried to wrap his mind around the magnitude of the situation. "Okay. That's okay, it's fine, it's fine." Could he feel the walls closing in on him? Did he see the stars being blocked out? "I've... got a way out of this."

"What?"

He didn't meet the Axolotl's gaze. He pulled off his hat to worry at it in his hands. "I have a way."

Bluffing. Or wishful thinking. "No. This is trouble you can't get out of. There's no greater crime against reality than the destruction of an entire dimension," the Axolotl said. "Right now, the gods think you're an active, divine threat to all of existence. That's what this is about. They're not after you because you broke a couple of rules—they're afraid of you." (The triangle lit up at that. Not quite the reaction the Axolotl had been going for, but at least he had his attention.) "And that means they won't stop until they're sure you're no longer a threat. As long as they're pursuing you, your best case scenario is getting buried alive beneath the multiverse's foundation where they can forget about you until your dream realm unravels."

"So what g—I don't see what good giving myself up would do! My best move is putting off the inevitable as long as possible! Just let 'em try to bury me!"

"But it's not inevitable," the Axolotl said. "They fear you as a divine threat. If you prove you're neither divine nor a threat—"

"No."

"Mortals can't be charged the same way as gods can. If we convince the court that you didn't have your current powers at the time of the inferno—"

"I don't know why you're so convinced I didn't have powers at the time!"

"I'm not. That doesn't mean I can't convince a judge," the Axolotl said, which surprised the triangle enough that he actually shut up for a moment. "If you're charged as a god, you face eternal imprisonment or oblivion. If you're charged as a mortal, you'll be sentenced to a regular afterlife. If you give up your power—I'm not sure where yours come from, but there are ways it can be done—" (the triangle was already raising a finger to protest) "—and it can be temporary! But if you don't have divine power when you're taken in, it will be that much easier to convince the judge that you didn't have any when your wall burned. On top of that, if you surrender yourself willingly and admit that destroying Dimension 2 Delta was an accident, that alone can knock off half your charges."

"Next you'll ask me to give up my eye! No!" He was clenching his fist around his hat so tightly that it shook; but that was the only sign of anxiety he betrayed. His gaze was as intense as the stare of a sun. "I told you: me, my power, and my people are a package deal. We stay together. We're staying right here. I don't care how much it inconveniences you."

"It's not about how much it inconveniences us," the Axolotl said. "I'm here for you—you and your people."

"They don't need you or any of your stupid 'gods.' I can take care of them!"

"Then take care of them," the Axolotl said. "You understand that, no matter how this ends, your dream realm will be destroyed and you'll have to leave or perish—don't you?"

"No." That stubborn little glitter fleck. "I can patch up this dump and repair the wall by myself. Once the wall's back, you don't have to worry about your stupid multiverse destabilizing, right?! I'll stabilize my realm before you get your stupid impenetrable foundation in place! Maybe I'll put a roof on top of it that you can't get through!"

"You haven't done it yet! What do you think you can do that you haven't already done?"

"You don't need to know," the triangle snarled.

He had to be mad, bluffing, or in denial. But he didn't look it—eye narrowed in determination, flames smoldering around his edges, fist clenched around his hat—

And then it clicked.

He hadn't said he would replace his wall. He said he'd repair it. 

The Time Giant had said there was no way the little speck of matter that the triangle kept in his hat could be all the matter from his universe; no mortal could handle it without its gravity crushing them, nor would they have the energy to move it.

But she'd also said that gravity was turned off in Dimension Zero. And the triangle had proven he did have the power to move an entire universe—so why should a universe the size of a grain of sand be any more difficult?

And anyway—what did restrictions like that mean in a place where dreams and reality overlap?

"The Time Giant was wrong, wasn't she," the Axolotl said. "You don't have a dark matter problem. You're carrying around the rubble of your universe. All of it. All the matter she sensed but couldn't find."

The triangle gave him a resentful look; but then sighed in defeat. He loosened his fist, reached into his hat, and plucked up the speck of what remained of his universe. The black pinprick of white light. "You're not as dumb as you look," he said wryly. "Yep. The whole thing's right here—all but a city or two. I figured out how to catch it pretty fast."

Catch it? "What... happened to your dimension?"

A faint uneasiness itched at the back of his mind; a sound, right at the edge of his hearing, that he couldn't quite identify but knew shouldn't be here.

"It doesn't matter," the triangle said. "It's about to un-happen."

"You're thinking about setting off a big bang, aren't you?"

The triangle said nothing. He just rolled his universe between his thumb and forefinger contemplatively. 

"You are," the Axolotl said. "You want to replace your universe."

Coolly, the triangle said, "You're sounding kinda scared, frills."

"I am," the Axolotl admitted. "Of all your options, that's the most dangerous thing you could possibly do."

"Hey, the dangerous choices have turned out pretty well for me so far!"

The Axolotl really didn't think they had. "You know you can't get your old universe back, don't you? It will only make a new universe."

The triangle didn't say anything—but he went still, holding the tiny glowing pearl between his fingers rather than rolling it back and forth.

"It will have similar physical properties—it will be 2D, gravity and light will probably work the same way, all the laws of physics will be what you expect... but it will be a new universe. New stars and worlds will form. New species will evolve. Your people will never return."

The triangle squeezed the pearl in his hand. "You don't know that," he said harshly. "Everything that ever existed is right in here." He shook his fist at the Axolotl. He could see the light shining out between the triangle's fingers. "It has to have some sort of memory! There's gotta be traces of it left in there!"

"It can't remember. It doesn't have a soul to remember with."

"I'm a soul!" The triangle pointed at himself with a hundred arms. "Me! I remember! The whole dimension remembers!"

There was the hiss. The ever-present hiss that the Axolotl heard any time he was inside Dimension Zero, the static in the speakers, the last gasp of a dying big bang, the whisper murmur scream battering against the walls. Fear shivered up his spine. How was it audible from within his tank?

He tried to push down his fear. "You're not the whole dimension."

The triangle laughed. It was a chilling sound.

"Just—consider how much more you'd lose if it doesn't work the way you want it to. What will you do if you can't fix your dimension?"

"I can," he said. "If I can't fix it, no one can."

Why did he think he was more capable than gods who'd maintained the multiverse for trillions of years? "What if you're wrong?"

"I will fix it," the triangle said stubbornly.

"TELL ME WHAT YOU'LL DO IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT!"

The triangle literally shrank back, growing smaller as he sank into the Axolotl's beanbag. "Keep doing what I'm doing now! Partying!" He let out a half hysterical giggle. "I'll party til I die!"

"Set off a big bang in an unstable pseudo-dimension, and you will die! The kind of death no one comes back from!"

"Great!"

They both froze. Neither one of them had expected him to say that.

"Kidding," the triangle croaked. "I just—I just—I'm trying to get under your skin, pinky, that's all. Is it working? Don't answer that, that wasn't my question, that was—rhetorical. I'm assuming that stuff you've got is skin, anyway." The prattle was hollow and meaningless. "The point is, I'm the dream realm's eternal party host, and I'm not stopping this party for anything, no matter what you say, and—and that's it. That's all there is to it!"

He must have witnessed so many horrors, in so little time—his universe incinerating, his people dying, Dimension Zero constantly collapsing even as he attempted to prop it up, the dimensions above him twisting and warping as their people fell into his nightmarish realm...

The Axolotl slowly flew closer to the triangle.

"Oh, come on— don't," the triangle whined. "Whatever little speech you're about to make, don't, I don't wanna hear it—"

Gently, the Axolotl said, "I know you've lost your home."

The word "home" struck a note with the triangle. He didn't flinch, his expression didn't change; but he went still. He looked down at the compacted ruin of what used to be his whole universe.

"But it's not too late for you to find a new home," the Axolotl said. "You can still move on and rebuild. There's a future for you. If you come out, I'll help you navigate the afterlife system. If you're stuck in this dimension, we'll find a way to free you."

The triangle's face darkened.

"You can be reincarnated, or resurrected, or—just set free to be an energy being if you want. You can settle down in a neighboring dimension, join a new people—"

"No. I'm not about to be a couch surfer in someone else's universe." He glowered up at the Axolotl. "Those people will join me. Everyone can either join me, or—or get out of my way! I finally made my kingdom, I'm not giving up my crown now!"

"If you keep your crown, you'll kill your kingdom! You know that if you stay here you'll destroy everything, I know you know it!"

"It's the best option I have! Better than your plan, anyway! Surrender to the cops and let my world fall apart?" He laughed harshly. "No way, Buster! I told my people I'd liberate them from our flat, oppressive little world and take them to a party paradise, and that's exactly what I'm gonna make for them!" He held out his little pearl of a universe again, the paradise-to-be.

Before, he'd said that the dream realm was his paradise. He'd also said that he'd remake his destroyed universe exactly as it had been. How could the "oppressive" world they'd left be their paradise? Nevermind the fact that none of "his people" were from his world. Which of the stories he'd invented was the truth? Which did the triangle think was the truth? Did he even know?

"If all of this is for your people—would you risk them? If trying to build a paradise kills the very people you made it for—"

"They'd never know."

The Axolotl's blood ran cold. It took a moment for him to find his voice. "What?"

"I can keep the party going until the end. They'd never find out what's coming. If the dream realm collapses, it'll be too fast for them to tell what's happening," the triangle said. "In their final moments, they'll still remember me as a hero."

The Axolotl hadn't realized until that moment just how cold the triangle's expression was.

His mind flashed to seeing VENDOR earlier that day, hustling the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force to clean up this mess faster because THEY didn't want the journalists to claim THEY had mishandled the situation during an election season.

Was that all the triangle was?

Another politician more concerned with how his constituents saw him than with what he could do for them?

"But," the Axolotl said weakly, "I've watched how you rescue the mortals from the fires. I've seen how you're struggling to keep this dimension from collapsing on them. I've seen how much you're suffering. You're running yourself ragged to protect them. You want so badly for them to be safe."

The triangle seemed to brighten at the Axolotl's words, as though he was soaking in the high praise. "Well, sure! And they love me for it! Would any god do less for his worshipers? Would you?" His voice took on a bitter tone. "But I don't know of any god who'd stick his corner out for a nonbeliever—and that's what they'll be if I don't deliver on the paradise I promised. I take my party hosting seriously. I'll give them their paradise if it kills me. Or them. Or everyone, if that's what it takes."

He was no hero. He never had been. He didn't care about the countless souls he'd collected, only their worship.

He didn't want his people to be safe; he just wanted to be his people's savior.

If I can't fix it, no one can. The triangle hadn't meant no one else was able to. He'd meant no one else was allowed to. He'd rather die than let someone else fix his mistakes.

And he would. This was a mass suicide.

No. Worse than that—it was a mass murder-suicide.

"You already lost your world once," the Axolotl said desperately, "don't you remember what that was like?"

The triangle flinched back like the Axolotl had slapped him. The tank rumbled around them; the hissing whispers grew louder. "That's... none of your business! Stop talking about my world, you don't know the first thing about it—"

"I know how much you must miss it. I know how deeply losing your people must hurt." It must have hurt, why would he have clung to what was left of his world if it didn't, why would he be so determined to rebuild it exactly as it had been?

"My—my people are fine." His voice was choked. He squeezed his eye shut. "They're... all out at the party. Waiting for me. Don't talk about—"

"The people at the party are shapes you kidnapped from other dimensions." He was so stubbornly loyal to his chosen delusions. "Your people are dead. You know they are!"

"No!"

His scream was answered by howls outside the Axolotl's tank. Through the static, the Axolotl could pick up a sound repeated over and over. A word. Murderer, murderer, murderer.

"No! They aren't dead! I saved them!" He curled in on himself, hands pressed to his sides like it could block out the sounds. "I liberated them from their shallow lives! I gave them their freedom—"

"Then give them their freedom now!"

The triangle's breath hitched.

"If you want to die, you can die. There are ways to break a soul. I can help. But do it alone," the Axolotl pled. "I know you care about these people!" He had to believe it, he had to believe it, he had to. In spite of the evidence to the contrary, he had to. "If you won't let us help you, at least let us help them go home. Please. You need to let them go."

He clenched his tiny hands into fists; he looked so pained the Axolotl thought he might shatter.

In another timeline, a better timeline, he whispered, "How?" The word he should have said echoed around them, blending into the static whispers. It would be so easy to say.

But in this timeline, he asked, "You're some kind of lawyer or something, right?"

The Axolotl paused uneasily. "By... way of metaphor," he said. "We have trials and courts, but not the way mortals understand—"

"There are no laws in my kingdom," the king growled. "Get out of here. Now."

"But—"

"I said OUT!"

A force crashed into the time and space between time and space, shattering the Axolotl's tank, the glittery cotton candy nebulas' pinks and blues disrupted by a twisted geyser of colors—raw frothing stuff somewhere between matter and energy—and it flung the Axolotl away from the triangle like a wave flinging a fish from the ocean. The anxious background static whispers grew to a buzzing roar, 1000 decibel white noise. He spun dizzily through the cosmic miasma.

The first time he'd come in here—the first time the triangle had chased him out—he'd felt instinctively that he'd been in danger. He'd felt flames licking at his heels.

He knew now that that had been a mere warning.

"I might be in your dream, but your dream is in MY dream realm!" The triangle seemed to get larger without his size changing. Maybe it was the universe around him that was contracting. "And you've overstayed your welcome, Axolotl!"

The Axolotl had tumbled into the nightmarish eternal dance party. Shrieking overlapping music drowned out the buzzing whispers. Thousands of eyes stared at him in horror and thousands of voices gasped in disgust; and he realized that as many times as he'd seen them, he had never been in their two-dimensional field of view.

For all the thousands that stared at him, millions of corpses never stopped dancing.

One last time, the Axolotl turned to the triangle and pled, "Just give the hostages the option to leave if they want!"

"My people aren't hostages!"

"Then give them a choice!" He could feel dead hands grabbing at his skin and fins. He wasn't sure if they were trying to restrain him for their Magister Mentium, or cling to him for escape. He wasn't even sure whether they were the dead who still had their own souls, or the triangle's corpse puppets. "Anyone who wants to stay with you can!"

"Shut up!" The triangle boomed louder and louder and he grew larger and larger, until his voice and his eye seemed to fill the universe. He was shuddering with rage (with regret?)—it threatened to shake him apart, and the universe with him. "All of this is your fault! I'm—sick because of you!" In another reality he said insane; but the realities where he didn't closed up around the word and crushed it into silence. "You made me like this! You infected me!"

"With what?" He'd only spoken to the triangle once before today. He hadn't even entered his dimension.

"This—idea!" He didn't say what idea, not in this reality; but the words echoed in from another reality where he did. He screamed to drown the echoes out. "I was fine until I met you and you ruined everything!" Regret spilled out of his eye so thick it was almost palpable, energy like a river. It threatened to fill the interdimensional in-between space and drown them all. The Axolotl could taste the idea that had poisoned the triangle: the idea that everyone mattered. That everyone was worthy of a god's attention. And now, everyone was gone.

Bewildered, the Axolotl said, "You're not 'sick' to think that. It's the sanest idea you could have—"

"Get out!" The shriek echoed through infinity. "Get out! The dream realm is my domain and I am its king! I told you last time, I won't let you threaten my people!"

"I would never—"

"GET OUT!" Blue flames exploded out of the triangle; some of his nearest prisoners were incinerated as easily as tissue paper.

The Axolotl tried to shield himself; the flames consumed one of his forelegs and ate away at his dorsal fin.

He tore himself free of the desperate grasping shapes and swam from the triangle as fast as he could.

The triangle chased him; and, to the Axolotl's despair, as the center of Dimension Zero followed the triangle, the edge of reality pulled ever further away.

His flames licked at the Axolotl's tail, consuming the fin; he swam slower and slower.

As the triangle pursued the Axolotl, his attacks further destabilized the volatile dimension; wormholes formed where the fabric of reality folded and bunched in on itself and was pierced through. Light shot through the holes like a million disembodied sunbeams. 

He saw one that led straight to the edge of Dimension Zero. He wriggled through.

"Where did you—?! HEY!" The dimension whirled dizzyingly as the triangle refocused on his evasive prey. "You think you can get away from me in my own realm?" 

"Do you want me to get out or not?!"

"I want you DEAD!"

The Axolotl shouldn't have asked.

With a roar, the triangle clawed at him. A thick, sucking wave of gravity as dense as a black hole tore through the unstable miasma toward him. The triangle laughed sadistically.

With one last surge of energy, he paddled his tail hard enough to outpace the triangle and burst free of the dimension.

The ragged edges of Dimension Zero ripped further under the triangle's attack, but it dissipated in the third dimension.

The Axolotl sighed in relief—then flinched when the triangle crashed into the invisible barrier holding the cosmic foam in the space-between-space where Dimension Zero should have been. Like a piece of glitter sticking to a bubble, if glitter sticking to a bubble were the most violent force in the universe. "Get back here! I'll skin your freakish hide and make a tent outta it—!" He strained toward the Axolotl, threatening to drag the bubble along with him, like a particularly determined sled dog trying to pull a trailer home.

The Axolotl hastily backed out of range as nauseating plumes of color stretched outside their bounds again. Blue fire danced over the thin membrane between dimensions like a burning oil spill on an ocean. The plumes twisted into shapes almost like arms, hundreds of them, reaching toward him—

And froze. The triangle was staring past the Axolotl.

The Axolotl turned to look.

It was the most sublimely awful sight he'd ever seen. An impenetrable wall made up of gods, angels, sentient forces of nature—there were things here so transcendentally powerful that the Axolotl couldn't even see them; he only knew they were present by the perimeters of the space he couldn't bring his eyes to gaze upon and the terrifying awe he felt when he tried.

They were all armed.

All their weapons were pointed at the triangle.

Apparently, the ATTF had called in reinforcements.

A god that looked like a hologram projection, the light of its projector shining down on it from a higher dimension like a halo, thundered, "ADVANCE ANY FURTHER INTO REALITY, AND WE WILL BE FORCED TO SUBDUE YOU."

"You can't afford to!" the triangle crowed. "You'll knock your own universes down!"

"NOT ANYMORE."

The triangle's eye widened. The thousand arms of raw reality seized the jagged edges of the dimensions bordering the hole left when Dimension 2 Delta burned down, trying to crush them—and nothing happened. He slammed Dimension Zero against the bordering dimension, trying to crack open a larger opening, and then trying to simply shove the bordering dimensions aside—and nothing happened. Dimension Zero burned; but the surrounding first and second dimensions remained still. There was no creak and crack of snapping lines and shattering planes as the triangle tried to squeeze his bloated universe free. There was no glowing line of fire on the distant horizon.

The neighboring dimensions burned and blackened under the thousand hands; but they didn't dissolve to ash. The cinders got caught between the layers together as the dimensions splintered into layers, then multiplied—splintered and multiplied—splintered and multiplied—thicker and denser and harder—

Parallel universes. Every time the triangle touched them, they split into more timelines, reinforcing themselves. The Time Giant already reformatted the universes most closely adjacent to Dimension Zero. Not every universe—but just enough to form a cage.

The triangle gave up with a grunt of pain. He laughed in disbelief—and then anger. "You were the distraction?"

"No! I was supposed to talk you into cooperating with building the fireproof foundation! We agreed to only call in reinforcements if I couldn't persuade you!" He looked around for the Time Giant, but couldn't find her—nor any of the other gods he'd spoken to while dealing with this mess. Everyone, apparently, had been cleared out of the vicinity to make way for the god militia.

The only civilian left on the 3D side of the missing wall was the Axolotl—once again, stuck in the middle of a situation he had no business being involved in.

The triangle's eye widened further, further, white hot with fury. "Nothing's ever your fault, is it, frills?! Every time you ruin my life, it's all a big misunderstanding! You just keep talking your way out of trouble!" His eye opened wider and wider still. His eyelid unhinged. His mandibles split open and at the back of his eye socket was an infinitely dark esophagus. Sprouting in a ring around the triangle's eye like the petals of a grisly flower, piercing the membrane between the zeroth dimension and the third, were millions and millions of—

—teeth. Teeth longer than the spaces between stars and sharp enough to split an atom.

The Axolotl only barely managed to paddle back out of their range before they snapped at where he had been. A couple of the higher gods caught him, holding his sides protectively. His skin sizzled with holy electricity.

The god militia drew back from the gnashing fangs, then readied their own weapons: spears, guns, swords, a wider array of divine and holy weaponry than the Axolotl had ever seen. The projection leading the militia called, "DON'T LET HIM MAKE IT PAST THE FIREPROOF BARRIER."

"Afraid I'll start breaking things again?" The fangs snapped tauntingly. "Hey—how fast do you think I can find the load-bearing dimensions?"

The Axolotl shook off the gods and swam back toward Dimension Zero. "Stop!"

"HOLD FIRE!" The projected god commanded, "OUT OF THE WAY, AXOLOTL. THE MULTIVERSE'S SAFETY IS WORTH MORE THAN YOUR LIFE."

He knew it was. The leader of the militia was so powerful that resisting a direct order made the Axolotl dizzy—but he did resist. He shouted at the triangle, "You can't fight off every god in the multiverse! This is suicide!" He realized too late that that probably wasn't as discouraging as he'd intended it to be.

"So what?! There's no way for me to win! Get executed for god crimes or get erased when the dimension collapses—"

"Those aren't your only choices!" The Axolotl could see the fangs slowly, slowly curling up in his peripheral vision, and pretended he didn't. "It's not too late for you to stand down—!"

"I can't!" A wave of fire blazed up the teeth of the Dream Realm. He held up a fist, and it was far too small for any of the gods, so mighty and large, to see what he held; but the Axolotl knew. "If I don't get a happy ending, why shouldn't I burn the rest of you down with me?! At least I'll accomplish one thing before I go!" His hand began glowing as energy began gathering around the tiny seed of a big bang.

"Do you want your worshipers to remember you as a monster in their last moments?!"

"Better a monster than a LOSER!" His laugh was a strained subsonic roar. "Are fame and infamy really that different?! At least they'll be thinking about me at the end!"

"It would make you a terrible party host!"

The Axolotl didn't know what had possessed him to say that. Apparently the triangle didn't know what to make of it either, because he froze, giving the Axolotl a wide-eyed blank stare.

But it worked. He snapped out of his rage. The light gathering around the remains of Dimension 2 Delta went dark. For a moment, he was frozen, giving the Axolotl a wide-eyed blank stare; and then he laughed again, just as strained, much weaker. The borders of Dimension Zero shuddered with his laughter. "Fair enough!" The appendages stretching out into the third dimension lost definition. "Fair enough." He glowered tiredly at the god militia—but raised his hands in surrender. Both his palms were empty.

The trembling fangs dissolved as they retracted. The whole paradoxical mass sagged sluggishly back into the crawlspace underneath reality.

One by one, the god militia slowly lowered their weapons.

The Axolotl's heart was still hammering in his chest; and only then did it register that he'd nearly been eaten by an entire dimension.

Where had his power come from? How had the triangle done all this—made his whole dimension vanish without a trace, shoved an entire plane inside a point, gained complete control over it all...

He really did have complete control over the entire universe that had formed inside Dimension Zero—didn't he?

And to control an entire universe, he needed to have an entire universe's worth of energy.

Dimension 2 Delta had been an entire universe. And now—all of its energy was in Dimension Zero.

With the triangle.

As he watched the triangle wincing in pain as the Dream Realm sank back into place, as though the triangle could feel the way the edges of the neighboring dimensions dug into the frothing chaos, the Axolotl whispered, "Oh, no. What have you done?"

His power had come from his own universe. He had devoured it. He'd made it part of him.

All that energy wasn't stored inside the triangle's body—but the Axolotl had been wrong to think that the triangle was the body in the first place. The triangle was only the face: the eye, the mouth, the mind. The part of the Dream Realm that could speak.

The Dream Realm was the anglerfish—and the triangle was its pretty golden glowing lure. They were all one monster.

The triangle was slumped in defeat, but still he shot the Axolotl a tired glare. The hissing static whispers rose up around him again, spilling out of the Dream Realm. (The whispers, too, were a part of the triangle.) "Who are you to judge," he muttered. "You weren't there."

No, he wasn't. He'd gotten here too late.

Behind the Axolotl, the god projection said curtly, "APPREHEND THE TRIANGLE WHILE HE'S COMPLIANT."

The Axolotl whirled around, eyes glowing with rage. "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!" The gods who had started moving toward Dimension Zero froze again.

"HE'S A THREAT TO THE MULTIVERSE!"

"He stood down!" 

"HE'S PROVEN WILLING TO DESTROY REALITY. HE COULD EASILY CHOOSE TO AGAIN." The higher dimensional projector turned to project straight at the Axolotl, dazzling him even through his shut eyes, shining straight into his brain. "STAND. ASIDE."

"No." The Axolotl tensed his muscles against the compulsion to obey. "He was a threat to the multiverse. Once the last walls are closed over the crawlspace, he won't be anymore. If he doesn't make a move between now and then, you have no grounds to pursue him." It was a little easier the second time to resist the higher god's command. "So if you do follow him out of the third dimension to capture him, you're trespassing in a new god's sovereign territory to make an illegal arrest outside your jurisdiction!"

"HE'S MASSACRED TEN DIMENSIONS AND TRIED TO DESTROY MORE. THERE ISN'T A COURT IN REALITY THAT WOULD CONSIDER PURSUING HIM UNJUSTIFIED."

"I know a few."

"YOU'RE DEFENDING A DIVINE MENACE. WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

He quietly kissed his career prospects goodbye as he watched himself do the stupidest thing he'd ever done. "I'm the Axolotl," said the Axolotl, "and I'm his lawyer!"

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 8 of a 9 part fic about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting the last chapter next week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl deal with having gotten his heart broken by this sweet little triangle who actually isn't sweet.

It's ALSO chapter 61 Part Eight of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: this was The Big One, gang. And now I expect for the next several months I'm gonna get comments from y'all rereading earlier chapters going HOLD ON WAS THIS LINE FORESHADOWING THAT LITERALLY THE ENTIRE NIGHTMARE REALM IS PART OF BILL? And the answer is: yes. yes it was. Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!! 💕

also this was THE absolute hardest chapter to write, goddamn.)

[mywritersmind]

UNCONVENTIONAL - LN4

summary : In which trying to make it home for thanksgiving fails and a cute british driver feels bad.

listen up : no warnings just cuteness! happy thanksgiving to all my americans <33 im thankful for YOU🫵 lando norris x american!driver!reader

word count : 1968

⋆༺

I groan out loud, dropping my phone onto the jet’s seat. “We’re stuck.” Lando sits up from his position across two seats, and frowns.

“Shit.” I look outside of the planes window, seeing the snow and fighting back tears. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not even december! Snow should not be here!” I wipe my eyes. I know Lando feels bad and I'm not making the situation worse by crying. But I’m having a hard time today because I'm supposed to be with my family.

Lando offered me and some other drivers a ride to Qatar for the next grand prix. Thanksgiving happened to fall the day before media day so I thought I could stop by my parents house and leave that night.

I never particularly loved Thanksgiving, but now that i’m traveling so much because of work, I've learned how much I truly can miss my loved ones.

Lando bites his lip as I sit back down and pull the blanket over me. The pilot informed us that we won’t be getting in the air for a few hours which means we have to go straight to the track instead of seeing my family.

I take a breath, “It’s okay. I appreciate you trying.” I hate crying in front of the guys, even if he is my friend. I hate it because it just plays into the whole emotional woman thing, and even though Lando is one of my best friends, right now I can’t help it.

Lando sits across from me, nudging his foot against mine, “How about we have thanksgiving here?” My head shoots in his direction as he puts on a small smile, “I don’t know a lot about it and I know I'm not your family… but I can try to be a substitute.”

I swallow, wiping my eyes again before I cross my my arms, “How would we even do that?”

I did not expect Lando to take my words as a competition. Still, thirty minutes later I'm sat with a full course meal spread out on the tiny table in between seats. There’s no huge turkey or array of pies, instead we have chicken wraps and fries. We have chips, popcorn, pesto pasta, orange chicken, a bagel, salad, and bread. A bottle of champagne sits next to me as Lando sits down.

His smile is wide as he looks down at the spread, “Good enough?”

“How did you…” I shake my head, laughing, “Yeah it’s good enough! Lando, this is really sweet.”

“It’s my first thanksgiving, I had to make it delicious, even if it is all airport food.” He shrugs and starts pulling things onto his plate. My legs are crossed on the comfortable seat and as I watch him pick his meal, I smile.

I bite into the chicken wrap that’s actually delicious. Lando taps on his phone before music starts playing over the speakers.

I smile at him as he chews, “So… what do Americans usually do on thanksgiving?”

I shrug and sip some champagne, “Eat, gossip, be thankful?”

“Okay! Let’s gossip then. Sounds easy enough.” Hes ridiculously committed to the bit and I adore him for it, “Did you know Franco’s signed with RB?” I start coughing, practically choking on my food.

“What!?” I scream.

Lando’s laughing now, “No I don’t actually know, I just couldn’t think of anything else.” I kick him under the table as he gasps.

“That’s evil! I got so excited.” I’m laughing with him now, our food picked apart and a mess in front of us. “What are you thankful for?”

He thinks for a moment, a curl falling into his face that makes my stomach flip a little. “Mmm… My family and friends.”

“That’s too generic. It’s thanksgiving- get deep, Norris.” He gives me a slight smirk before nodding.

“I’m thankful that the championship talk is over. I’m thankful for Chicken wraps.” He holds his up, proudly as I roll my eyes. “And I'm thankful for you.”

I’m a tad bit shocked, “For me?” I expect him to say something stupid or flirty, but he’s dead serious.

“You’re a really good person. I like being around you and for that, I'm grateful.” He raises his glass and I hit it with mine, “Now go on, brag about me.”

I roll my eyes, back to smiling humorously, “I’m thankful that I'm not alone right now.” His eyes don’t stray away from mine, “And I’m thankful for snow. Even if it’s pissing me off, it’s very pretty.”

We both look out the window in sync, the snow still falling. The runway is fully white, matching the trees and wing of the plane.

When I look back at Lando, he’s already looking at me. His face is relaxed, his freckles prominent and curls perfect. “Do you want to go?” I say suddenly as his expression turns confused.

“We can’t yet, we still have like two hours.”

A smile tugs at my lips, “I mean outside.”

He looks hesitant, “It’s freezing.”

I stand and grab my suitcase, unzipping it and pulling out my puffer jacket at record speed, “Did I mention every thanksgiving, something really random but really fun happens?” It’s true, for some reason this holiday brings out funny stories. “You’re not scared of some snow, are you Norris?” I step closer, narrowing my eyes.

He stands, grabbing his own jacket, “I’m just saying, don’t come complaining when you’re freezing and wet.”

“Me!?” I scoff, zipping up my jacket, “You’re the one who needs four layers for a sunny day.”

⋆༺

LANDO

I’m freezing my ass off but I would rather become a human icicle than tear my eyes away from her smile. She’s giggling and running into the snow, twirling around as snowflakes fall into her hair.

“Don’t slip, Y/n!” I yell after her as she turns around, the biggest smile on her face.

Her hand goes to wipe the hair that’s being blown in her face, snow falling around her, “Come catch me, Norris.”

I roll my eyes and hurry over to her as she laughs and dances around. I can’t help but laugh with her, it’s fucking contagious.

She sticks her tongue out, leaning her head back to catch snowflakes. Y/n is so perfectly caught in the haze of the snow and light peaking through the clouds that she looks like an angel.

She pokes my cheek and holds onto my jacket as if she’s about to fall. “Your nose is red.”

“You should get a job in detective work if the whole driving thing doesn’t work out…” She scoffs loudly and punches me in the arm.

Unfortunately, she’s stronger than she looks and because the ground is icy, we’re both falling seconds later.

She lands on top of me, laughing so hard that she’s crying, “Fuck! Are you okay!?”

“Like you care!” I sit up, holding her tightly still.

She laughs and plops down next to me, laying her head back and arms out. “Oh no-”

“Angel time, Norris!” She screams at me.

“I’m going to become snow!”

She doesn’t respond, just stretches her arms and legs out and waves them back and forth to make the snow part below her.

Something about her is my weakness and I honestly can’t complain when she looks so happy. I join her, my hair getting soaked and her laughs making me smile.

I make my angel in peace as snow floats down from the sky, landing on my face. I hear the rustle of her jacket as she turns her head to me, “Thank you.”

I smile softly, examining her face and the snowflakes that melt as soon as they touch her skin. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry that I'm not your family.”

She lets out a breath, “You’re my found family. That’s close enough.” her words make my heart beat faster, “Even if you are British and your first thanksgiving was on a grounded plane.”

“I wouldn’t wish it any other way. Although, next year we should try for a more friendsgiving approach. Maybe with the whole grid?” Her smile grows as she looks up at the sky.

“I'm very down for that.” As i’m mentally tracing her side profile in her mind, a voice and light comes very loud.

“You two!” I realize we’re in trouble instantly and stand up as fast as I can, slipping all over the place as the voice gets louder and the flashlight shines directly towards us.

Y/n is trying to get up with me but she’s laughing and slipping so it’s significantly harder. I grab her hand and we make a run for it, up the stairs and into the warm cabin. The door shuts behind us and I lean my head against the wall, sighing in relief of not being caught making snow angels.

Y/n is breathing heavily across from me, a smile permanent on her face as she looks at me. Her hair is wet and I'm sure mine is the same. I can’t feel my hands and I couldn’t care less.

“You look like a popsicle!” Y/n takes her hands and wraps them over mine, getting close enough that I can feel her breath on my skin.

I’d like to pretend that what happened next was a symptom of my cold state, but I’ve never been a good liar.

As soon as she looks up at me, her eyes big and glassy, I lean down and kiss her. Her lips are warm despite her cold hands gripping my own and as soon as she pulls back, I swear.

“Fuck. I’m sorry-” I didn’t even ask! God, I'm an asshole and now I'm completely stuck. Would I die if I ran outside and hid in the woods?

But she doesn’t look mad. She looks… pleased? Her hand slips out of my reach and moves to the side of my neck, “Don’t be.”

And then she kisses me. I think I blackout because I have no clue how long we’ve been kissing but I do know that I'm now completely defrosted and warm.

“You okay?” I whisper as Y/n pulls away.

She nods, “Thanks for kissing me.”

I laugh, “You’re very welcome. Thanks for kissing me back.”

She smiles again backs up a bit, fiddling with her rings, “So… was that just a thanksgiving thing or a way to warm up or…?”

I’m smiling big now, moving my hands under her jacket as she squirms because of the temperature, “I’ve been waiting for that to happen so if you limit me to once a year, i’ll be pretty sad.”

She nods, biting back a smile, “Good to know!” She slips away from me and pulls off her jacket, sitting in a seat and pulling her blanket around her shoulders.

I slowly walk so I’m in front of her again. She’s smiling at the floor, motioning me to come sit, “There’s one more thanksgiving tradition I do every year.”

She pulls out her ipad and scoots closer to me, I feel like i’m dreaming. “And that is…?”

She clears her throat, still avoiding eye contact.

“The Thanksgiving episode of Gossip Girl!” She starts rattling on about the backstories and starts the episode but i’m still stuck on her face and how her eyes won’t meet mine.

“Y/n…” I say it softly, bringing my hand to her chin and turning her face to look at me. She’s blushing. I don’t think I've ever seen her blush.

“Mhm?” She sounds like a mouse.

I brush her wet hair out of her face and press a soft kiss against her cheek, “I really like thanksgiving.” She just smiles and nestles into my side, my arm around her.

She lets me have some of the blanket and whispers, “I really do too.”

[kyouka-supremacy]

Average bsd anime watching experience

[somanystars]

"Well...this explains a lot."

A blinked, gun wavering for a moment before he tightened his grip. In response, B raised his hands higher, resting his palms on his head.

"What?"

"I mean. My guess was ADHD. For all the...random knowledge you've got."

"Why would that explain it?"

"Well, why do you think I know so much about mushrooms?" B asked, waving to the one "Types of Mushrooms" poster that had looked nice enough to come with him to college despite the hyper fixation fading years ago. A, astonishingly, did glance at the poster. B shrugged. "Figured you had a phase like that for lockpicking."

"How do you know about the lock picking?"

"I lock the room every night before I sleep?" B said. "Yet you're still here the next morning."

"I use my key."

"No, you don't," B said. "Switched the keys a while ago. I wanted to test my hypothesis."

Before I knew you had a gun, he didn't add.

A kept blinking at him. B could practically the cartoonish plink-plink sounds from his childhood TV shows.

"So, are you really just trained? Or do you also have ADHD?"

"Is that really your priority right now?" A demanded, waving the gun a little as if to reemphasize what he thought B should focus on.

"I mean" B began, "I guess - I thought I'd just startled you when I walked in, and once you relaxed, you'd put the gun away. I mean, I don't see how I could be your target. The only person who might want me dead is Nancy Cordez since I rejected her Valentine's Day offer. That was in like, 4th grade though. So probably not."

A cracked an incredulous smile and lowered the gun. B grinned and lowered his arms.

"So."

"So?"

"Do you have ADHD?"

A's eyes darted away. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean. I guess I suspect sometimes. I dunno."

"So that's a yes then," B said, clapping his hands together. "I knew it."

"Dude."

"What? No one else here has it. No one I've met anyways. It's nice knowing you're not the only one"

A scoffed. "Yeah. I'm great company."

"Better than nothing."

His eyes darted away again. For an assassin, he was shy as hell. Another reason to suspect ADHD rather than assassin.

Oh well. He'd still been half right.

Today you just found out your roommate with strange hobbies, like knowing how to pick a lock, knows how every puzzle and cipher by heart, or how to commit tax fraud, and so many other things, wasn't a guy with ADHD, he was an ex-assassin and now you have a gun pointed at your face

[420technoblazeit]

i think i'm definitely in the minority with this but i genuinely don't care what christian linke says about jayvik. and i don't even mean that in a spiteful fuck that guy! kind of way i mean i think that he's allowed to have an opinion on his own characters. if he doesn't think that jayce and viktor's relationship has romantic undertones that's fine with me. he's not the only writer in that room and i think he has the right to express his opinion considering that this is his show that he worked on for 9 years. also he didn't even completely discount it he just said that he saw some kind of love between them and he thinks they have a deep complex relationship

i read the thing he said about how he doesn't understand why people immediately jumped to a romantic relationship as him genuinely just being like yeah idk i dont see it. but he didn't really seem upset about it and i hesitate to think of him as a raging homophobe. if he wants to say that he thinks of viktor as asexual then fine whatever that's cool. i know some asexuals are upset about that bc they feel like he's using that identity to deflect criticism but i dont really see it that way as an ace myself. idk maybe i just don't take a lot of stock in so called word of god canon but it feels like all of twitter is dogpiling him right now and painting him as this horrible homophobic asshole who hates all the shipping

[supernotnatural2005]

'Ride em' Cowgirl'

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY, swearing, fluff.

AN: Here it is, the requested part 2 of my 'Giddy up Cowboy' Drabble. I'm blown away by all of the love and support on my work lately and had to give you something tasteful in return for all your lovely appreciation. I hope you enjoy ☺️

Tagging: @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog and @rizlowwritessortof

Main Masterlist

The ride back to the motel feels like an eternity. The engine of the Impala hums beneath you, a comforting sound you’ve grown used to over the past few months of hunting with the Winchesters. But tonight, that familiar hum does little to calm the storm that’s building in the air between you and Dean.

Sam sits in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the electricity crackling in the space between you and his older brother. His head is turned slightly, eyes focused on his phone as he scrolls through something, probably researching the next hunt. He’s completely oblivious, lost in his world, but you and Dean? You're both caught up in something far more dangerous.

You shift in your seat, the leather of the Impala's interior squeaking slightly beneath you, but it’s nothing compared to the way your body is reacting to the proximity of Dean, to the memory of the words you said back at the bar. "I think I can ride him better." The double meaning of the comment, the tease that you’d laid on him, was still hanging heavily in the air.

You glance at him, his profile visible from the corner of your eye. His jaw is tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too hard, and you can’t help but notice the way his bicep flexes with the tension. The urge to reach over and touch him, to bridge that last bit of space between you, is almost overwhelming.

Sam’s voice pulls you from your thoughts as he glances over his shoulder, a slight grin on his face. “You two are awfully quiet. You sure everything’s alright?”

Dean clears his throat, his voice low, a little too steady. “Yeah, we’re fine, Sammy. Just tired.”

Sam nods, not catching the edge in his brother’s voice, and goes back to whatever he’s reading on his phone. You, however, catch the way Dean’s eyes flicker to you—a brief glance, but enough to make your pulse quicken. You feel that familiar heat rise between you both, the kind that only the two of you understand.

Every mile feels like it stretches on forever. You catch Dean’s gaze again, and this time, his eyes linger a little longer, something raw and unspoken in them. You know he’s struggling to keep his composure, just as you are.

Finally, the motel comes into view. The neon lights of the sign flicker, the soft hum of the parking lot filling the quiet car. Sam lets out a loud yawn and stretches, oblivious to the way the tension between you and Dean has reached its breaking point.

“Man, I’m pretty beat.” Sam says, giving you both a tired smile as he climbs out of the car. You and Dean follow suit, both of you stepping out with a quiet but unmistakable urgency.

Dean’s hand brushes against yours as he walks you to your room—just a few doors before his and Sam’s, and it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You both stand there for a moment, looking at your motel room door in front of you, the unspoken weight of everything you've both been avoiding for so long finally sinking in. 

Sam walks on ahead, muttering something about needing to “hit the hay,” and you both watch as he disappears into the room before Dean turns to you, his voice low and controlled. 

"You weren’t kidding earlier, huh?”

"No," you say, your voice just above a whisper, because you can’t take it anymore, and it’s enough to send the heat between you two spiralling. "I wasn’t.”

Dean doesn’t need any more encouragement. He moves first, closing the distance between you two with a single, decisive step. His lips crash against yours, hard and desperate—like he’s been holding back everything he’s been feeling for far too long. 

His mouth is warm and insistent, and you open up to him instinctively, your hands finding their way to the open fabric of his flannel, pulling him even closer. 

You moan into the kiss, clinging to him as if he were your last source of oxygen. Consuming what he was willing to give as long as he was willing to give it. Dean’s hands slide down to your hips, gripping hard enough to leave small fingerprint indents when your tongue slides past his lips. His responding groan is low, bordering on a growl, and he walks you back against your door, his hands unable to stay in one place for too long. 

His touch, his scent, and his delectable mouth were quickly descending you into a state of ecstasy. You were already hooked and desperate for more. 

“Inside.” You mumble against his lips, and he offers you a curt nod before he breaks the kiss, allowing you a moment to breathe as you turn to unlock your door. He’s already pressing himself against you from behind, his hands wandering from your hips to boldly cupping your breasts over your thin t-shirt, beneath your jacket.

It takes you until your third try before you finally stumble inside. Dean quick to kick the door shut with his foot as he ravishes your neck with wet kisses and thumbs at your pebbled nipples poking through your lace bra, risen from both his ministrations and the cool air.

You push back against him and gasp at the feel of his obvious arousal through his jeans. His reaction to you sent a thrill of excitement through you as well as a feeling of pride swelling in your chest. 

"Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.” Dean pants into your neck as you roll your hips against him. He presses into you with each roll, making his eyes roll back and his hands move to find purchase on your hips again. 

“I think I have some notion.” You quip with one last push back against him before turning in his arms. You offer him a sly smile and look up at him through your lashes as you trail and hand down his firm chest and over his toned stomach before cupping him through his jeans. His hips instinctively thrust into your palm, and you grant him some relief by adding pressure and rubbing your hand along his length. 

His gaze is stormy as he looks down at you, watching you watch your own hand grope him in wonder. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. Suddenly, he pulls your hand from him, the feeling both incredible yet frustratingly not enough, and you look up at him in question, but he’s quick to reclaim your lips again. 

The urgency from before is back with a vengeance as you claw at each other’s clothes, peeling away layers upon layers between heated kisses, until finally, you’re left in nothing but your panties, and Dean in his boxers. 

His gaze roams over you unapologetically, taking in every curve and scar; your heaving breasts on display with a hunger you’d never seen in another man's eyes before. But there was more behind his desire. There was a look of longing, of wanting this for so long and finally having it, simmering within those pools of green. And you understood. Because you felt the exact same. 

As if in sync, you reached for one another again. Dean’s hands framed your face as he dipped down to kiss you again. This time softer, more tender, making you all but melt into his arms. He walked you backwards, never parting his lips from yours, until the backs of your thighs met the edge of the mattress. 

You pulled away from him then and climbed up onto the bed, with him quickly following, crawling up and over you like a predator stalking his prey. Your head fell back onto the pillows as his firm body covered yours, his mouth quickly attaching itself to your neck, kissing, sucking, and nibbling at the tender flesh until you were bucking your hips up against him. 

He smirks into your neck, loving the fact you were so reactive to him, even by the simplest of touches. He decides to give you some relief and trails his mouth down your body, stopping at your chest. He waited for you to look at him, his warm breath fanning over your perked nipple, and only when you finally meet his gaze does he wrap his lips around your pebbled nub. 

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, watching his eyes fall shut as he sucked and nibbled at your nipple. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and your hips ground for any kind of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs. Your hand slid into his hair, pulling harshly at the soft spikes atop his head, making him groan, and the vibration sent tiny shocks of pleasure throughout your nerve endings. 

He moves onto your other breast, the wetness of your abandoned nipple cooling against the air conditioning unit, softly buzzing in the background, the feeling only adding to the incredible pleasure his mouth was giving your other breast. 

“Fuck, Dean.” You gasp, just as his left hand trailed down your side and sneakily slipped into your panties. Two of his thick digits were quick to find your clit and you shuddered from the contact. He begins to circle your bundle of nerves slowly, much like the motion of his tongue against your nipple. 

You fist his hair again, moaning loudly as he dips an experimental finger into your soaked hole, gathering your wetness and resuming his attention back on your clit. 

“You’re so wet, baby.” He grunts against your chest, frowning in concentration as he picks up his pace. “That all for me?” All you could do was nod and then cry out as his fingers rubbed you faster, sending jolts of pleasure down to the tips of your toes, which soon curled as your body began to tense. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You repeated it like a mantra, the coil in your belly wound tight and ready to spring. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum all over my fingers.” He husks in your ear, and you look down your body, watching the muscles in his forearm dance with effort from the maddening pace of the hand buried deep in your underwear. The sight was your undoing, and your whole body stiffened. Mouth dropping open in a silent scream, the sound trapped in your throat as your body convulsed and shuddered against him. 

Dean’s hand began to slow with your descent into bliss, coming to a complete stop once you deflated back onto the mattress, completely boneless. 

“Holy shit.” You huffed with an incredulous chuckle because, holy shit. You’re not even sure you’d ever come so hard with your own hand. And if just his fingers could bring you so much pleasure, it left you wondering what else you were in store for. Although you didn’t have to wonder for much longer when Dean shifted beside you and you felt the straining press of his cock against your thigh. 

You turned to him and cupped his cheek with your right hand, pulling him into a slow and sensuous, grateful kiss. He hummed happily against your lips as you rolled him onto his back. His arms coming up to wrap around you, to keep you close as you took his breath away. 

With him distracted, you grasped his tented length, massaging him as best you could through the fabric of his boxers. He broke the kiss and dropped his head back against the pillows, eyes shut tight as you relieved some of the pressure. 

You smiled devilishly at him and rose to your knees beside him. He watched you in wonder as you peeled the last item of clothing from him, helping you by lifting his hips. Your eyes widened in both shock and amazement at the sight of him. Your mouth watered and pussy throbbed, desperate for a taste, for the feel of him inside you. 

You gathered him in your hand, relishing in the warm weight of his impressive cock. Dean released a deep sigh at the feel of your delicate hand slowly, teasingly pumping him. He was as hard as granite, throbbing in your hand, and you marvelled at the way your simple movements had him panting, wanting and desperate beneath you. 

Laying comfortably between his parted thighs, You ran your tongue along the length of him. The deep, responsive moan from him giving you the encouragement to do it again and again until he was slick with your saliva and fisting the sheets beneath him tight. 

“Holy.. shit.” Dean gasped as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his silky head before sinking your mouth onto him. The action brought with it a salty tang and a variety of praises and profanities. Between your legs, a new wave of wetness coated your already ruined underwear as you worked him over in your mouth and with your hand. 

Looking up at him, he was a sight to behold. His skin glistening, chest heaving, sinful lips parted, and eyes squeezed shut. He was beautiful in every scenario it seemed. 

“Oh God.” Dean’s eyes snapped open then, his body tensing, and he quickly sat up, pulling you from him. You looked at him alarmed, wiping at the spit collected at the corners of your mouth. 

“What? What’’s wrong?” You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to take a few deep breaths before he released a breathless chuckle.

“You were about to make me cum.” He told you honestly, and you blushed a little, but wondered why he’d stopped you? 

“And?” You giggled softly, though squeaked, when he suddenly manhandled you into his lap. You had to bite back a groan at the feel of his hard length bumping against you through your panites. 

“And? I was promised a ride.” His voice is low and sultry, but his face is filled with his usual boyish, giddy excitement. You giggled and shook your head, realising you’d somehow fallen for a complete dork. 

You cup his scruffy cheeks in your palms and plant a warm kiss against his lips, the smiles on your faces quickly fading as your tongue swept against his, reigniting the ache between your legs and the need for more. 

You reluctantly pull away and slide off of him, removing and kicking away your underwear before climbing back onto him. He welcomes you eagerly, claiming your mouth once again with a kiss filled with passion and ignition. 

You slowly guide him onto his back and pull away breathless. His hands slide from your back to your hips as you sit up, grinning down at him. His green eyes look up at you, dark and entranced, roaming over every inch of you in amazement. 

You bite down on your lip as you settle against him, the wet seam of your pussy covering his length, making you both groan at the contact. You roll your hips experimentally, your head falling back as you steadied yourself against his firm stomach, picking up your pace until you were slick and ready. 

“Fuck sweetheart. You’re a dream.” Dean says breathlessly and with an honest gaze. You smirk down at him, slowing your roll, and he watches you. 

“I think it’s time I make do on that promise.” You tell him. “Think I can last the full 90 minutes?” You tease, and Dean chuckles, rubbing lovingly at your thighs, hips, and up your sides. 

“I have no doubts, baby.” 

In one swift movement, you rise up on your knees and grasp his length, angling him just right before you sink down onto him. Both of your mouths drop open in respective pleasure. You’re slick enough to take him most of the way, only rocking gently a few times until he’s fully sheathed. 

“Fuuck.” He moans, and it’s long and drawn out because Dean can’t quite fathom the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. He’s been to heaven, hell, and everything in between, but this was something else entirely. The best pie he’d ever tasted, the feeling he got behind the wheel of baby—all things paling in comparison to this moment.

Once the initial stretch of him blurred from pain into pleasure, did you then rise up and slowly slide back down, gasping in almost disbelief at the incredible feel of him inside you. You repeated the movement again and again until you built up a steady rhythm, rocking, rolling, and grinding your hips to find the most intense spots of pleasure. 

All the while Dean let you ride him, watching in awe as you did in fact “ride him better." However, to give you a challenge, he bucked his hips up into you, meeting you thrust for thrust. You held on tightly, eyes rolling back at the much harsher thrusts hitting you just right, but you weren’t about to let him win. 

With one hand firmly planted on his chest, you leaned back, reaching your arm around to fondle his balls. Dean jolted in surprise but moaned deep and loud as you gently caressed them in your palm. You smiled in triumph as he relinquished his thrusts, and you sped up your movements, feeling his balls draw tight. 

“Oh, fuck, oh shit.” His words were breathless and strained as his body tensed, brow furrowing, hands gripping tight onto your hips as he came. Hard. You felt his warm seed coat your walls along with a long, deep groan as you circled your hips, milking every last drop. 

You grinned down at him as he collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard and weightless. You could feel him still twitching inside you, and you involuntary clenched at the sensation, making his head pop back up to look at you. 

His eyes were wild, his chest flushed red, and wordlessly he slid a hand over to your lower stomach, his thumb pressing against your sensitive clit, making you gasp. Dean’s eyes closed at the feeling of you clenching around him but began circling your clit with the digit, watching on in admiration as you slowly rocked your hips into his hand, chasing your own sweet release. 

Dean was a generous lover, but you’d given him a run for his money in that department tonight. It was only common curtesy he had you come again. Even if your pussy was all but strangling his sensitive cock, it felt incredible—a sensation he’d never felt before. He could feel himself hardening again at just the sight and feel of you, surprising you as much as himself. 

“Oh God.” You cried out, your walls fluttering around him as you ground into his hand, his thumb flicking against your clit, harder and faster until you were shaking above him. Then he thrust his hips up, once, twice, three times, and you were falling apart. Your body tensed and twitched above him, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as the white hot pleasure of your orgasm rippled through you.  

“Shit.” Your eyes popped open when you felt it. Warmth spread inside you for a second time as Dean cried out in painful pleasure. Holy shit was all that you could comprehend as he tensed beneath you. 

Shocked silence filled the room as you both stared at one another, catching your breaths, until a chuckle of disbelief slipped from his lips, triggering your own laughter.  

You fell onto his chest, letting his soft cock slip from you with a slight hiss from him. You soothed a hand a long his chest, planting a sweet kiss there before leaning up and coming face to face with him. 

"So, was I…Better?” You wondered curiously, whilst absently playing with his mused, sweat slicked hair. Dean grinned in response and cupped your jaw tenderly. 

"Oh, you so were." He replied before pulling your lips to his. 

AN: Okay so this one was just pure smut! 😂 but let me know what you think? Was this a good tie up for these two 👀

[swanqueenelmaxshadowhunters]

Honestly it baffles me the amount of people who can't read between the lines or that refuse the simple "actions speak louder than words"

Yeah, it's rushed, we could have had at least one more episode so they could have slowed down a bit but still.

People who says that "a world without Vi is a perfect world" I know you are just a stupid fuckass because you hate her for no reason and you're just pissed that your ship wasn't developed. I'm sorry to inform you but timebomb was never the main goal. You should be happy that you got it at all.

People saying Cait's arc was weak because she didn't say "I'm sorry" or something like that, you didn't pay attention at all to her, did you? She's not a woman of words. She's the kind of person who acts.

As much as I wanted Vi and Jinx to be able to live together and happy (because boy, they did deserve after everything) I know this would never happen. Why do you think she told Vi to let herself be happy for once? (Not with those words but you know) And then she walked away? She knew that as long she was there, Vi would never let herself be happy because Vi didn't think she deserves to be happy.

Reuniting with Vi and seeing that she never gave up on her gave Jinx the closure she needed to move on with her life and if you can't see that, you don't know Jinx at all.

Another thing that's pissing me off A LOT is people saying Vi didn't gaf about Jinx's "death" (yes, I believe she escaped) like, what else do you want? Vi screaming and crying apparently is not enough. And this just makes me certain that these people saying this never experienced grief at all. They have no idea how grief works.

And don't get me started on caitvi. I don't know what else they expected because the way they looked at each other in that scene was enough for me. They love each other SO MUCH. They aren't the type of cute love confessions. They don't do that. Maybe one day they will let slip an "I love you" but that's it.

There's a lot of things that could have/should have gained more attention, yes, but arcane is definitely a great show. Better than many shows I watched recently.

No one will ever make me hate Vi, Cait or Jinx. Ever.

I knew we would eventually reach a point where masses of people would misinterpret Arcane, but I never imagined it would be this bad.

Yes, I absolutely agree that season 2 was rushed, especially Act 3, and it is undeniable that the series would have benefited from at least one more episode if not an entire act. However, the current discourse about the show is so superficial that it's impossible to have a conversation about anything deeper but a mere synopsis of the characters and story.

So many of you expected this series to hold your hand and dumb everything down so you can understand it. But when it wasn't the case, you all started rioting and calling the characters vague, the plot bad, and the ships underdeveloped.

The amount of people who value spoken text more than the actions of the characters is worrying. And more worrying than that is the amount of those who interpret the said actions so superficially. I can't believe it needs to be explained that it wasn't Vi's death that led to the "good" timeline, but the lack of hextech. The result would have been the same if either of them had died. It wasn't about Vi, but about the child that died because of dangerous technology and that therefore that technology must not be used. The mischaracterization of Vi in general is insane. Call me biased and unfair, but the moment I hear you don't like her I will assume you didn't understand the show.

Also, the whole discourse around Caitvi scene in episode 8 is giving brainsmooth. No, Vi didn't choose Cait over Jinx, quite the opposite. No, Cait didn't plan all of it to fuck Vi. No, Vi didn't do it because she felt forced or because she is a horny animal who doesn't care about her sister. No, them fucking in a cell is not about the class difference, but about the fact that Vi felt an insane rush of emotions after realizing that Cait would let go of her revenge and help Jinx escape, all for her. Yes, I do agree that it would be nice if we got a longer conversation between Vi and Caitlyn and it would feel great to hear Cait apologize, but I'll always value actions over words. Her talking to Jinx, recognizing that she is just as bad as her, and choosing to trust Vi that her sister can change, thus letting Jinx escape will always mean more than any verbal apology and I'll die on that hill.

Also, it was Jinx's decision to let go and walk away. It was not about Vi trying to get to Vander, but about Jinx being tired of everything. Even if that fight didn't happen, the result would be the same: Jinx would leave because she knows that Vi couldn't do that. She knew that the two of them couldn't have a normal life together and that Vi would never give up on her. Jinx didn't "die" because Vi pushed her or failed her, but because she loved her too much. Whether you believe that she is dead or that she escaped, it's her decision either way.

Again, I agree that too much happened too quickly, but stop confusing your stupidity and inability to read between the lines with the quality of the series.

Arcane is flawed but still brilliant.

[mcrveilles]

just this once // ln4

HI WE'RE BACK - i'm having so much fun writing this. thank you for liking it and your encouragement.

word count: 2.1k warnings: casual intimacy themes, secrecy, conflicts of loyalty, romantic tension and suggestive content, heartache, feelings of betrayal includes: friends to lovers, fluff, best friends little sister, brothers best friend summary: the consequences hit hard

PART FIVE previous part - next part

The tension thickens, pressing down on your chest as Max’s words settle in the air between you. You glance at Lando, hoping he has some magic explanation, some way to fix this, but his jaw is set, his eyes locked on Max. His usual easy charm is nowhere to be found, and for the first time tonight, he looks genuinely shaken. Max crosses his arms, his sharp gaze moving between the two of you. "Well?" he presses, his voice growing louder. "Someone better start talking."

You take a shaky breath, your hands twisting together at your sides. “Max, it’s not like that,” you manage, though your voice wavers under the weight of his stare. “We weren’t sneaking around. I mean, not intentionally. It’s just…” You trail off, your words getting stuck in your throat. “Not intentionally?” Max repeats, his tone dripping with disbelief. “So what? It just accidentally happened?”

Lando steps in then, his voice calm but firm. “We didn’t plan this, Max. I swear. But… yeah, there’s something between us.” He glances at you, his expression softening before he looks back at Max. “It wasn’t something we wanted to hide from you. We just—”

“Wanted to keep it quiet until it suited you?” Max interrupts, his voice rising. “Do you even understand what this looks like? You, my best friend, going behind my back with my sister? And you—” He turns to you, his eyes filled with something between anger and betrayal. “You didn’t think to tell me? Not once?” You flinch at the accusation, guilt curling in your stomach. “I didn’t know how,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, congratulations,” Max snaps, throwing his hands in the air. “Mission failed.”

The words hit like a slap, and you blink back the sting of tears. Max has never spoken to you like this, never looked at you like this—like he doesn’t even recognize you. The hurt in his eyes is worse than the anger, and it makes your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared for. “Max,” Lando says again, his tone softer now. “You’re my best mate. I never wanted to hurt you either. But…” He hesitates, like he’s searching for the right words. “I care about her. A lot. And if you can’t see that—”

“That’s the problem,” Max cuts in, his voice raw. “I do see it. I saw it tonight, clear as day. And maybe even before that, but I ignored it because I trusted you, Lando. I trusted both of you.” The weight of his words hangs in the air, and for a moment, no one speaks. You can feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you hold them back, refusing to break under the pressure of Max’s gaze. “I need some time,” Max finally says, his voice quieter now, but no less resolute. “To think. To figure out how I feel about all of this.” He takes a step back toward the door, pausing to look at Lando. “Don’t follow me. Either of you.” And with that, he turns and walks back inside, leaving you and Lando alone on the balcony once more. The sound of the party swells as the door shuts behind him, a stark contrast to the silence that settles between you.

Lando exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Well,” he mutters, “that went about as badly as it could’ve.”

You let out a shaky laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

He steps closer then, his hand brushing yours in a gesture that feels both apologetic and grounding. “We’ll fix this,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a determination that makes your chest tighten. “I don’t know how yet, but we’ll fix it.” You nod, though you’re not sure that you believe him. The night feels heavier now, the spark of earlier completely snuffed out. But when Lando’s fingers lace with yours, you let yourself hold onto him—just for a moment—because even in the mess you’ve made, he’s the only thing that feels steady.

You pull your hand from his stepping back until the cool metal of the balcony railing presses against your spine. Lando’s brows knit together, confusion flashing across his face. “You okay?” he asks softly, his voice careful, like he’s afraid you might shatter. But you already feel like you’re breaking. Your breath comes too fast, and your chest tightens as all the emotions swirling inside you—guilt, fear, frustration—bubble to the surface. “I can’t do this,” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “What do you mean?” His voice is steadier now, but you can see the cracks in his confident mask. He takes a step forward, and you immediately hold up a hand to stop him.

“I mean this.” You gesture vaguely between the two of you. “Us. Whatever this is. I can’t, Lando. I thought I could, but I can’t.” He stares at you, his jaw tightening. “Baby, don’t do this,” he says, his tone low but urgent, almost pleading. “I’m serious, Lando,” you say, hating the way your voice wavers. “Max hates me now. He hates you. And he has every right to. We were selfish, and we’ve ruined everything.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Lando says firmly, his hands falling to his sides. “He’s just upset. He needs time to process this, that’s all.”

“Maybe,” you say, your throat tightening, “but I can’t keep doing this with you, sneaking around, pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. It’s too much, Lando. I can’t handle it.” The hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the stomach, and you have to look away, focusing instead on the city lights below. For a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of traffic and the muffled music from inside the apartment. “You’re scared,” he says finally, his voice quieter now.

You laugh bitterly, though there’s no humor in it. “Of course I’m scared. I’m terrified, Lando. I’m terrified of hurting Max even more, of ruining what we had—what you and Max have. And I’m terrified of…” You trail off, biting your lip hard enough to hurt.

“Of what?” he presses gently, stepping closer despite your earlier protest. His voice is softer now, like he’s trying to coax the truth out of you.

“Of you,” you whisper, the words barely audible. “Of how much I feel when I’m with you. Of how I can’t seem to think straight when you’re around. It’s too much, Lando. You’re too much.” He doesn’t respond immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, heavy and suffocating. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady, but there’s an edge of vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

“I’m not going to apologize for how I feel about you,” he says. “And I’m not going to let you push me away just because you’re scared.”

“Lando—”

“No, let me finish,” he says, his tone firmer now. “I get it. You’re overwhelmed. So am I. But this? What we have? It’s real. And I’m not going to let you throw it away because you’re too afraid to fight for it.” His words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding in your chest. You want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong, but deep down, you know he’s not. Still, the fear is stronger. It wraps around you like a vice, squeezing the air from your lungs. “I need space,” you say finally, your voice trembling. “I need to figure things out on my own.”

His face falls, and the sight nearly breaks you. But he nods, his jaw tight. “If that’s what you want,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It is,” you say, though the words feel like a lie.

He steps back, his hands sliding into his pockets. For a moment, he just looks at you, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to memorize every detail. Then he nods again, turns, and walks back inside without another word. You stay on the balcony, the cool night air doing nothing to ease the heat burning in your chest. And as the door clicks shut behind him, you realize just how much it hurts to push him away.

The second Lando steps away, a hollowness seeps into your chest, spreading fast and heavy like a lead weight. The cool night air brushes against your skin, but instead of soothing you, it amplifies the ache inside, making every breath sharp and uneven. You tell yourself this is for the best, that pushing him away was the right thing to do—for Max, for Lando, for yourself—but the words ring hollow.

Guilt churns in your stomach, twisting like a knife. Max’s face, the flash of hurt and betrayal in his eyes, replays in your mind like a haunting reel, over and over again. And then there’s Lando. The look he gave you before he turned away—raw, unguarded—feels like a scar you’ll carry for a long time. You hate that you put it there.

Your hands tremble as you grip the railing, the cold metal biting into your palms. Everything feels too much, too fast. You were supposed to keep things simple. One night. One moment. A slip you could explain away and move on from. But it’s become so much more, hasn’t it? And now, it’s spiraled into a mess you can’t seem to untangle.

The lump in your throat grows heavier, and your vision blurs as tears pool in your eyes. You don’t know if you’re angry, sad, or just exhausted—maybe all three. Angry at yourself for letting this happen, sad for the way things are unraveling, and exhausted from pretending you don’t care as much as you do.

And you do care. That’s the worst part. You care so much it’s terrifying. Every glance, every touch, every stolen moment with Lando has carved its way into you, leaving marks you don’t know how to erase. And the thought of losing him—really losing him—hurts more than you want to admit.

But the fear is louder. Fear of what this could mean for Max, for your family, for your heart. Fear of stepping into something that feels so big, so overwhelming, it might swallow you whole.

So you stay rooted there, staring out at the city lights, wishing they could somehow illuminate the answers you so desperately need. But all they do is flicker and blur, leaving you just as lost as before.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The buzz of Silverstone is electric, a sea of orange and British flags waving wildly as engines roar to life. The atmosphere is alive, but you feel out of sync, moving through the paddock like a ghost. Max is there, but his smiles are subdued when it comes to you. He’s cheering forLando, though, still proud and supporting his best friend for his home race. Still, his excitement feels muted, his celebratory backslaps and grins somehow...limited and different. It’s like he’s drawing a line, one you’re not sure how to cross.

Lando keeps his distance too. You catch glimpses of him—a flash of his curls beneath his cap, the familiar set of his jaw as he talks to his engineers—but he never looks your way. You tell yourself it’s for the best, but it doesn’t stop the ache every time he passes.

When the race begins, you stand in the far back of his garage, heart pounding as Lando’s car tears through the track. Every overtake, every perfect turn has you holding your breath. You try not to think about the way things used to be—the way you’d celebrate together, no hesitation, no lines drawn in the sand. But you can’t help it. Because even with everything between you now, you’re still there, willing him to succeed.

When he crosses the finish line in P3, with Lewis winning the race, the roar of the crowd is deafening. You clap and cheer with the rest of them, smiling despite yourself as Lando lifts his trophy. Max is by your side in the crowd, grinning from ear to ear, but even his elation feels careful, like there’s something unsaid hanging between all of you.

Lando doesn’t look for you when he steps down from the podium. He’s swarmed by cameras and teammates, orange confetti raining down, but he doesn’t scan the crowd like he used to. And you? You stay on the sidelines, your pride for him tangled up in all the things you’re too scared to face.

tag list: @sltwins @sarx164 @hadesnumber1daughter @fullmugwolffish @willowsnook @sageskiesf1 @f1fantasys @cmleitora @rawr-123s-stuff @leclercdream @chezmardybum @landossainz @cloud-55 @sillyfreakfanparty @harrysdimple05 @mwuaferrari @milkysoop @weekendlusting @chezmardybum @isotopemylove @luvvcharxo

[covenofagatha]

Mistakes have been made this afternoon. I have had sake and no food, so fuck it, I'm going to be brave. Agatha/reader, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, oral sex, degradation, praise, and breeding kink if you are still taking requests.

Of course! And to everyone else who requested a fic, they should hopefully be up soon!

A gala to remember

You're feeling a little neglected by your girlfriend so you take advantage of her unfounded jealousy while at a work event for her

Word count: 2400

Warnings: literally pure filth, semi-public sex, girl penis Agatha, cum, creampie, blowjob, vaginal sex, degradation, praise, breeding kink, I think that's it

There’s not enough appetizers at the fancy annual gala for the company your girlfriend works at to make you stop being mad at said girlfriend. 

That doesn’t mean you’re not going to try though. 

You’re on your second shrimp cocktail when Agatha comes over to where you’re standing and tightly grabs your arm. 

“Come over here. And put that down,” she hisses in your ear and drags you across the room. You yank your elbow out of her grasp and deliberately pretend that you don’t see her scowl at you. 

It has been a week since the two of you have had sex. You can’t blame Agatha, work for her is really busy this time of the year, but she has come home late every single night since Monday and you’ve barely seen her. 

She had been promising all week that on Friday night – tonight – she would be home early and the two of you would make up for lost time. You had even gone out and bought some new lingerie. You missed the feeling of Agatha’s cock inside you and you couldn’t wait for the end of the week. 

Until Thursday morning, before she had rushed out of the house, she had told you that she was expected at the company’s gala the next night and she wanted you to come with her. 

Normally, you wouldn’t mind attending a work event with your girlfriend, but a lot of feelings had become pent up over the week and there was also the fact that she had given you a day’s notice on cancelling the plans she had made. 

So yeah, you were being a bit of a brat. 

And Agatha was fully aware of that, and wasn’t having any of it. 

“You need to behave,” she whispers before the two of you approach a group of co-workers. 

“Or what?” You scoff sardonically. “Not going to fuck me for another week?” 

“Watch me,” she shoots back. And then she plasters on a fake smile. “Hey, guys, this is my girlfriend, y/n.” She introduces you to everyone, three men and two women. You politely shake their hands, barely even looking at them, until you get to the last woman, Rio. 

She’s a little younger than Agatha, her pale skin contrasts beautifully with her golden-brown eyes. She’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit, like Agatha, and there’s something about her intense energy that seems to draw you in. 

Speaking of Agatha, she must notice how you’re staring at Rio because she clears her throat and wraps an arm around your waist. 

“Oh, that reminds us, Agatha,” one of the men booms. They’ve been talking about something for the past few minutes but you’ve been zoning out, bored almost to tears. “We need to borrow you for a few seconds upstairs. There’s a contract we need you to look over.” 

Agatha squeezes your waist and you shoot her a pleading look but she’s already leaving with two of the guys. The group disbands and you awkwardly go find an empty table to stand at and eat more shrimp.

Great. Now you’re mad, miserable, and alone. 

Except, maybe not all alone. 

Rio saunters up to the table, holding two glasses of champagne. She hands one to you and silently toasts. You take a sip. 

“Big fan of these parties?” You ask, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that has settled over your table. She shrugs noncommittally.

 “They’re good for the company,” she says. “I don’t particularly enjoy parties.” 

You raise your glass to that. “Join the club. I’m only here because Agatha made me.” Maybe you shouldn’t be speaking ill of your girlfriend to her co-worker but you kind of want to vent to someone. 

Rio rests her head on her elbows and her eyes widen. “Agatha Harkness’s girlfriend. What is that like? Is she as much of a boss in the bedroom as she is in the office? Or is she one of those powerful people who submits completely?”

Images and memories of Agatha in the bedroom flit through your mind (she is definitely not the latter) and you choke on your drink, sending you into a coughing fit. Rio chuckles knowingly.

“That’s an interesting question to ask someone you just meant,” you say once you’re finally able to breathe again, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, I’m an interesting person,” she retorts with a smirk. You nod in agreement and laugh. 

And that’s when you feel a hand on your lower back and a presence right behind you. You whirl around, afraid it’s some old man, but it’s your girlfriend. 

“Agatha!” Rio exclaims with delight. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”

“Excuse us,” Agatha says rudely and grabs your hand to drag you up the stairs of the event center. 

You roll your eyes exasperatedly. “What, Agatha?”  

She doesn’t say anything until you’re past the top of the stairs and she spins you around and shoves you against one of the pillars. You wince at the cold marble on your cheek but you’re quickly distracted by the feeling of Agatha’s body against your back. 

Particularly, her semi-hardened cock. 

“Were you seriously flirting with Rio Vidal?” She taunts right into your ear. “Was that some pathetic play to get me to notice you?”

You want to tell her that no, of course not, you weren’t even flirting and the only reason Rio had come over was because Agatha had left you all alone, but you don’t do any of that. Instead you wiggle your ass against her, enjoying her sharp intake of breath, and ask, “Did it work?” 

She growls and flips you around, forearm coming up to your throat. “Listen to me, little girl,” she says threateningly. “You are mine.” 

“Oh, am I?” You simper innocently. “I must’ve forgotten in the past week while you’ve been too tired to show me.” 

Her eyes flash with something dangerous. “Get on your knees.” 

It makes you falter. “What?” You look around the two of you. There’s no one up on the second floor right now, but Agatha and her co-workers had just been up here a second ago so who’s to say that won’t happen again? You aren’t exactly hidden from view from the people on the ground floor either. 

“Did I stutter?” 

Despite your reservations, you can feel how wet you’re getting and how much you’ve missed having Agatha like this. So you hike up your floor-length gown and slowly drop down to the floor. The tile hurts but you don’t care. 

You reach up to unzip Agatha’s pants and pull her cock out. The tip is already red and leaking with precum and you gasp at the sight, feeling an ache start to grow inside you. 

“Better go fast before someone catches you,” she says, weaving her hand through your blonde hair. You’d like to remind her that if you get caught, she’ll be the one who gets in the most trouble, but she’s right. There isn’t time for that. 

You drag your tongue up the bottom of her cock and swirl it around the tip, getting immense pleasure when she lets out a small groan. You’ve almost forgotten how good she tastes. 

“God, you’re such a good slut for me,” she says. She collects your hair in a pony-tail as you start to bob your head up and down her dick. You can feel it twitch in your mouth and you tease the vein along the side which makes her hips jump. 

You swallow around her and try to push yourself further down. When you get close to gagging, you come back to lick at her tip while your hand strokes your saliva up and down the rest of her cock. 

“You look so fucking pretty with your mouth stretched around me,” Agatha groans. “Fuck, baby, can I use your mouth?”

You nod eagerly, peering up at her through your eyelids. Something about her using you like a toy really gets to you. 

And then you open your mouth wide and let her fuck her cock into you. You really hope the wet sounds you’re hearing are not as loud for everyone else. 

The need to breathe is burning in your lungs and your eyes are tearing up, but you can tell Agatha is close to cumming based on the tightening grip in your hair, the blissed expression on her face, and the way her cock is stuttering on your tongue. You want her to cum all over your face when she suddenly stops and pulls out of you. Air rushes into you and you cough weakly. 

“What?” You ask, a little disappointed. Without answering, she pulls you off your knees and pushes you back against another wall. She parts your dress at the slit and slides a hand through it to cup you over your underwear, smirking triumphantly when she finds you soaked. 

“God, sucking me off where anyone could see like a whore really does it for you, doesn’t it?” She taunts. “So pathetic, baby. So needy. You want me to fuck you so badly, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been such a brat this whole night, right? You want my attention, my cock in you so bad that this is how you’re acting?” 

Embarrassment colors your cheeks but you hold your head high. Nothing she said was false. “What are you going to do about it?” 

She scoffs and smirks. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to remind you who you belong to, because apparently a little slut like you needs a constant reminder.” She directs you to hike your dress up and she slides your underwear to the side. She positions one of your legs over her hip and without preamble, she thrusts her cock all the way into you. Your head falls back against the wall with a loud moan. 

Agatha clamps her hand over your mouth and stays still. She is filling you up so perfectly, even if it’s been a week since you’ve taken her. The delicious stretch is exactly what you’ve been missing. 

“Please, Aggie,” you whimper and she starts to move, hitting your special spot every time. “Feels so good.” 

“God, you’re taking my cock so well,” she grunts, picking up her pace. Your mouth falls open but no noise comes out. “It’s like you were made for me. So perfect, angel. Such a good girl.” You nod your head and roll your hips with every one of her thrusts. 

“Agatha, oh my god,” you moan, feeling her nails dig into your hips through her dress. You know that she’s close, can feel her throbbing inside you, and you’re not too far behind. 

“Such a desperate slut,” she croons. If there’s one thing about Agatha you love, it’s how quickly and effortlessly she can go from praise to degradation and back. “Needing me so bad, making me fuck you at my work event because a whore like you wants to be filled. Where anyone could walk up here and see how desperate you are for me. I want them to see what a whore I make you into. Especially Rio. Want her to know who you belong to. Fuck, sweetheart. Want me to fill you up, baby?” 

The thought of her spilling her cum inside you makes you clench even more around her cock. You absolutely love the feeling: the warmth, the way it feels leaking out of you, the times Agatha would eat you out after and taste the mix of your wetness with her cum and then kiss you so you could taste it too. 

“Yes, please, Aggie, fill me up, breed me,” you whine, whispering the two words that the both of you only use on special occasions. 

It has the intended effect because a feral look settles in Agatha’s eyes and she fucks into you with renewed vigor, hands gripping you so hard you think you’ll have bruises tomorrow. 

Or at least you hope. 

“Gonna breed you, baby, gonna fill you up with my cum,” she pants, the effort getting to her a little. “Cum all over my cock like the perfect slut that you are.” 

You take a hand off her shoulder to reach down and rub your clit and that little extra spark of pleasure sends you orgasming all over Agatha’s cock. Her hips splutter and she lets out a long sigh before you feel her twitch inside you and then a spurt of warmth fills you. You moan at the feeling, almost cumming again.

She stays in you until she softens and the second she pulls out, she wipes her cock all over your pussy to clean herself off, smearing the mess all over you, and tugs your lacy underwear back into place. You bite your lip at the feeling of her cum dripping out of you and when you take a shaky step towards her, you can feel how drenched your panties are, coated with a mixture of the two of you. 

And now you have to spend the rest of the night like that. 

“I promise I’ll clean you off when we get home,” Agatha says, teasing smirk telling you that her tongue will definitely be involved. You clench around nothing at her words and the images they bring, and you can feel more of her cum ooze out. You’re able to tell that some of it is on your inner thighs and you really hope it’s not visible through the dress. Or on the dress. 

But you don’t have time to worry about that. Agatha kisses you softly and pulls you in for a hug. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t made time for you this week,” she murmurs. “I’m all yours this weekend, I swear on my life. I told the guys earlier that if they had a problem, they’d have to figure it out themselves or wait until Monday.” 

You tighten your arms around her, feeling suddenly giddy. “Thank you, baby.”

Agatha reluctantly steps away after a few more moments of holding you close and you miss her body against yours. “Shall we rejoin society?” 

You pretend to think about it for a second until she smiles and then you take her hand. She leads you back down the stairs, her cum still seeping out of you. 

[greengoblinswifey]

Steamy Nights—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you’re a sheltered college student who recently got your first job as a housekeeper at a fancy hotel. you stumble upon Nicholas Chavez while cleaning and he invites you to his hot tub in his room where one thing leads to another. based on this request.

warnings— age gap(reader is 19) praise kink, slight body worship, fingering, oral(f!receiving), daddy kink, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mentions of blood, creampie, aftercare.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

It had been a few weeks since you left your hometown and the ever-watchful eyes of your parents. You were finally in college, away from the suffocating grip of your sheltered upbringing. Now, you were free—free to explore, meet new people, and experience the world on your own terms. You'd always been the quiet, reserved type, but something inside you wanted to change that. You were ready to break out of your shell, to do what everyone else seemed to be doing, partying, flirting, and fucking.

You'd just landed your first job, working as a housekeeper at one of the fanciest hotels in the city. The kind of place where top CEOs, celebrities, and influencers stayed. The pay was decent, and it gave you the freedom you longed for, even though you were still adjusting to the hustle of your new life. You had a lot of cleaning to do, and the hours passed by quickly, but today was different. You were already thinking about the freedom you'd have once your shift was over, but you hadn't expected to find what you did next.

As you entered another room to clean, you realized there was no “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging from the door handle. You assumed it was just another room to tidy, so you entered without hesitation. The sight that greeted you, however, left you frozen.

The man standing before you was unreal. His body was sculpted like a Greek statue, muscles rippling under his damp skin, droplets of water glistening on his chest. His hair was still wet from the shower, and he was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. For a moment, you couldn't find your voice.

“Sorry! I—I’m so sorry,” you stammered, your face flushed. “There wasn't a sign on the door and I just thought—”

You tried to turn away quickly, but your gaze was fixed on him, unable to tear yourself away from his presence. Your heart raced, and you couldn’t help but be entranced by his sharp features, the way the towel clung to his waist.

He chuckled softly, his deep voice sending a wave of warmth through your body. “It's fine, princess. Why so nervous?” he asked, his smirk playful yet intense.

You swallowed hard, trying to collect yourself. “I, um, I’m sorry, really.”

He took a step closer, and your breath hitched as he looked you over with what felt like a mixture of curiosity and awe. “Don't worry about it,” he said. “I'm Nicholas by the way, Nicholas Chavez.”

You blinked, a realization dawning on you. Nicholas Chavez. The famous actor. You’d seen him on billboards, in tv shows, and even heard girls talk about him endlessly. He was everywhere. And now, here he was, standing before you in nothing but a towel.

“I, uh, I know who you are,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up even more.

He smiled, eyes softening as he looked at you. “Good. You have a name?”

“Yeah, it's Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said smoothly, his voice low. He took a small step toward you, and you felt your pulse quicken. “So, how old are you?” he asked casually, his gaze lingering on you.

“I’m nineteen,” you replied, feeling a little shy under his attention.

He chuckled, his gaze never leaving you. “Nineteen, huh? You're—full of surprises.”

You blinked, unsure what he meant by that, but his next words made your heart skip a beat.

“How about this,” he said with a sly grin. “When your shift is over, come find me. My private hot tub’s always open. I’ll be waiting.”

For a moment, you hesitated, your mind racing. You’d always been the shy, sheltered girl, but something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, it made you feel different. More alive. Maybe this was your chance to break free from your past, to do something bold.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

His smile widened, and he gave you a wink before turning away, heading back to the bed. “The door’s always open for you,” he said over his shoulder as he flopped onto the bed, his gaze lingering on you. “Take your time.”

You felt a rush of excitement and nerves all at once. You finished your cleaning quickly, your thoughts buzzing with what was to come. You couldn’t stop thinking about him—about his body, his voice, the way he had looked at you. You felt like you were about to step into a new chapter of your life, one that you had been longing for.

The hours passed slowly, but finally, it was time. You’d made sure to pick out a sexy bathing suit, to wear underneath your clothes. As you approached his room, your heart raced with anticipation. You unlocked the door with your housekeeper’s key and pushed it open, your eyes immediately falling on him.

Nicholas was there, lounging on the bed in nothing but his trunks, his body looking just as perfect as before. He looked up and saw you standing there, and his eyes darkened, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You came,” he said, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You swallowed, nodding. “I— I came.”

As he sat up on the bed, your eyes couldn't help but trace the lines of his muscles, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. He was a vision of pure temptation, and for the first time in your life, you didn’t feel nervous. You felt almost empowered.

You stepped out of your clothes and into the soft light of his hotel suite, the anticipation buzzing in the air. You tugged at the straps of your bathing suit, a sudden surge of confidence rushing through you as you revealed the simple yet daring swimwear underneath. His eyes flickered, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you, his gaze darkening with something deeper.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his voice low and appreciative. “You’re gorgeous. Look at you.”

Your heart raced at his words, the heat in your cheeks making you feel more alive than you ever. You gave him a shy smile, but he could see through it, he knew exactly how his words were making you feel. He moved toward you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you as his hands gently took you in his arms.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice steady and warm. You squealed in surprise as he effortlessly swept you off your feet, carrying you toward the hot tub on the balcony. The steam rising from the water mingled with the cool night air, creating a perfect atmosphere that made your pulse race even faster.

He set you down gently, the water soothing against your skin as he stepped in after you, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something magnetic about him, something raw and unspoken. He was powerful, confident, and completely in control, yet there was a kindness in his gaze that made you feel like the only person in the world.

“So, tell me about yourself,” he asked, his voice smooth like velvet. His hand brushed against your back, sending a shiver down your spine as you felt the warmth of his touch.

You took a breath, trying to steady yourself. “Well, I’m new to all of this. I grew up a little sheltered, honestly. But I’m in college now, and I wanted to break out of my shell—experience things for myself.”

Nicholas’ eyes softened with understanding, and he gave you a small nod. “I like that,” he said, his voice deepening. “You’ve got spirit.”

You could feel your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little nervously. “I guess I’m just tired of playing it safe.”

He stepped closer, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in just enough to make you dizzy. “What if I told you that you don’t have to play it safe anymore?” His hand found your cheek, cupping it gently as he held your gaze. “What if I told you there’s so much more to explore, if you’re willing?”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you nodded, not trusting your voice for a moment. His words had unlocked something inside you, something that felt like a new beginning.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, barely above a whisper. You could feel the tension between you two, the chemistry so thick you could almost taste it.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “A lot of things. Are you down for anything?”

You could feel your pulse spike, the weight of his question making your stomach flip with excitement. “Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, but the conviction behind it was clear. You were ready. Ready to let go and experience everything that this night had to offer.

Nicholas didn’t need any more encouragement. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow at first. But then the kiss deepened, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you closer to him. You responded eagerly, your body moving against his as you got lost in the moment. His mouth was hungry, but gentle, as if savoring every second.

He broke away for a moment, looking down at you with something unreadable in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel the heat of his gaze burning into you. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his fingers gently grazing your skin.

Nicholas was so close now, his body radiating warmth as his hands gently traced the contours of your body, making you feel things you’d never experienced before. His eyes never left yours, and you could feel the raw hunger in his gaze.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmured, his lips barely brushing your ear. “Everything about you is perfect.” His fingers slowly moved up, grazing your side, sending a rush of heat straight to your pussy. He paused, then gently tugged at the strings of your bikini top, his eyes darkening as the fabric loosened. “God,” he breathed, looking at you in awe as the top fell away, exposing your tits to him.

You couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest, the way your pulse quickened at his words. You’d never felt more exposed, yet somehow, with him, it felt right. “So juicy,” he whispered, his voice husky as he lowered his head. His lips brushed the soft curve of your breast, and you gasped softly, unable to stop the soft moans that escaped your lips. “Your moans are hot,” he said.

Your body reacted to every touch, every brush of his hands. His touch felt like fire on your skin, leaving you trembling. The sensation of his hands on your body was overwhelming, and when his fingers gently cupped your breast, you couldn’t help but let out another moan, louder this time.

“God, your boobs are amazing,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin as his lips found yours again in a hungry kiss. You kissed him back with the same fervor, your body pressing closer to his, feeling the heat of his chest against you. His body was solid, strong, and you could feel every inch of him as he held you close.

His hand moved slowly down your body, his fingers grazing the edge of your bikini bottom. He didn’t rush, he was savoring every moment, as if he knew this was all new to you. His hand lingered there, rubbing over pussy through the fabric, making you squirm slightly. The water splashed around you, but it only heightened the lust between you both.

You moaned softly as he rubbed your clothed pussy faster, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your chest rose and fell with each breath, and the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still on your body, his eyes full of desire. “You’re so fucking hot,” he said. There was no mistaking the way he felt—he wanted you, just as much as you wanted him.

With a gentle but insistent pull, he guided you closer, your bodies pressed together, the heat from the water mixing with the heat between you. His lips found yours once more, and as you kissed him back, you felt the world narrowing down to just the two of you, two bodies, two souls connecting in the steam and the quiet night.

What do you want, princess?” His voice was thick with desire, his lips lingering near your ear.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding as you thought about what you wanted. “I need to feel more. I need you to make me—make me cum.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm on your neck. “Good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to your bikini bottom. He was so careful, making sure you were comfortable with every movement. He kissed you again, and this time the kiss was deeper, more urgent, as though he couldn’t wait to explore more of you.

The water splashed lightly around you as you both moved, the sound of your breaths mingling with the soft hum of the jets. His hand moved lower, brushing gently against you. He pulled your strings, easily ripping off your bikini then slipped a finger inside your wetness. You couldn’t help but gasp, the sensation of his fingers inside you unfamiliar yet thrilling.

“I’m a virgin by the way, I should’ve mentioned that earlier.”

“Shit, are you okay, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, pulling away slightly to look at you. You nodded, your fingers curling into his chest as you pulled him closer.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you whispered, your body reacting instinctively to his finger curling inside you. He slipped another finger inside you, your nails digging into his huge biceps and he took the moment to rub your clit. Your moans and the sound of water splashing was all he could hear.

“Nick— I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice thick with approval. “Cum for me, baby.”

And for the first time in your life, you did. You squirted on his fingers, feeling the tension in your body release as you surrendered to the moment, to him.

“Fucking hell, you look so pretty when you cum, y’know that?” he murmured, brushing your hair from your face.

“Well, it’s the first time I’ve ever done anything like this so, no,” you laughed.

You suddenly realized you were butt ass naked in front of a man for the first time as his eyes raked over your body, drinking you in like you were a sculpture in a museum. Your hands went instinctively to your boobs, covering yourself as he stared too long.

“Oh baby, don’t hide yourself, you’re fucking beautiful,” he murmured, taking your hands and placing it on his bulge. You felt how hard he was, and how big.

Nicholas pulled down his swim trunks, and stepped out of the water in all his glory. The warm water cascaded over his body and all the way down to his cock that was standing at attention. The steam was a paid actor like himself—setting the mood and reflecting the heat between you. He took your hand and helped you out of the hot tub, both of you dripping with arousal and remnants of water.

As you stood there, his towel draped loosely around his waist, you couldn’t help but notice how impossibly broad and strong his frame was. The water glistened off his chest, highlighting his defined muscles, and you felt an involuntary shiver of anticipation.

He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against your skin as he took up a towel and dried you off. You swallowed hard, heart hammering in your chest as his hands lingered just a little longer than necessary, making it hard for you to breathe.

“Come on baby,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding as he led you back toward the bedroom, your pulse quickening with every step. The moment you entered, he closed the door behind you, the weight of his presence filling the room.

Before you could even process what was happening, he pushed you gently onto the bed, your body sinking into the softness of the mattress. The action was quick, but there was nothing hurried about the way he looked at you—there was a quiet intensity in his gaze, like he couldn’t wait to see where this would go.

He stood at the edge of the bed for a moment, watching you as you caught your breath, your body still damp from the hot tub. “You know,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “you’re absolutely beautiful.” His words sent a wave of heat through you, making you flush as his gaze dropped to your body, his eyes darkening with desire.

You could barely find your voice. “Th-thank you,” you stammered, trying to steady yourself, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to focus. You weren’t sure if you were nervous or excited, maybe both.

Nicholas moved closer, leaning down until his face was just inches from your glistening pussy. “Can I taste you?” he asked softly, his lips hovering over you.

You nodded, barely able to speak, but your lips parted as he moved in. His mouth moved against your pussy slow at first, tentative almost, as if testing the waters. But as he began licking faster, his hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer to him. You responded by pressing your pussy against him, the heat of his mouth making you dizzy with desire.

“You’re taste so fucking good,” he murmured against your clit, his voice a husky growl. You moaned softly in response, your body already reacting to his tongue all over you. It was the first time anyone had made you feel like this, so exposed and yet so wanted.

Your breath caught in your throat as you gathered the courage to speak. “Shit, daddy, I’m gonna cum,” you whispered.

He smiled, that wicked grin curling at the edges of his lips at the nickname you appointed to him. “Wow, we’ll address that after you cum on my tongue, so go ahead,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval.

As if your body was waiting for the go ahead, you arched from the bed, your hands immediately gripping his hair as you ground your pussy all over his mouth. You moaned as you squirted and he took the opportunity to slurp every drop of what your pussy had to over.

“Mm— that’s my good girl, you taste like fucking Heaven, sweetheart,” he praised in between his licks.

He moved up to you, his lips glistening with your arousal and you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him and relishing in your savory taste. As you did, you could feel his hard cock pressing against you, his pre cum leaking and smearing on you. It felt so good, you wanted to suck his dick but you needed him to fuck you even more.

“So, daddy kink hmm? Just when I thought you couldn’t get any hotter,” Nicholas said, that gorgeous smirk on his face.

You buried your face in his neck, grinding your pussy against his shaft as you let out small whimpers in his ear. You needed that dick, bad.

“You’re so needy sweetheart, what is it, you want my cock?”

You let out a soft ‘mhmm’ still grinding against him as your body shuddered, if you weren’t careful, you knew you’d cum from just doing that.

“Words baby, I need words, do you want daddy to take your virginity?” he asked. When he saw you, he knew he wanted you for a fun night and more, he would’ve never thought a beautiful woman like you was still a virgin and would be up for a night with him. Let’s be real, if a guy like him asked you to come to his room after hours, he was looking to fuck and you, a virgin, knowingly came to his room. Though, he needed to know you were on board.

“Yes, please, I want you to take my virginity, please fuck me,” you whimpered.

He reached to pull out the nightstand drawer and you knew immediately what he was reaching for.

“N-no condom,” you muttered, grabbing his hand, “I’d like to feel all of you for my first time, i-if that’s okay.”

“‘Course baby, anything for you,” he smiled.

He moved back on top of you, stroking his length and spreading the pre cum all over. Looking at how big he was, you wondered how he would fit.

“You sure you want to do this sweetheart? You can still back out if you want to, the decision is all yours,” he said, concern etched on his face.

“I’m sure Nicholas,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down.

His leaking tip rubbed against your folds, the sound of your wetness filling the hotel room.

“I’m gonna go slow baby but it’s still going to be a bit uncomfortable at first, if it’s gets too painful, all you have to say is stop, yeah?”

You nodded your head and smiled, appreciative of his words, you wouldn’t want to be losing your virginity in any other scenario with anyone else but him.

Slowly, he began easing his cock into you, muttering praises and placing kisses all over your face. Your face contorted from the pain and pleasure and you tried your best to relax so he could move further.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay, the worst part’s gonna be over soon,” he uttered, before placing a kiss on your lips.

He slowly pushed into you more, peppering kisses and cooing at you. You’d never felt to full, your fingers when you touched yourself didn’t compare to how big he was inside you. Your jaw fell agape as the slight pain finally subsided and you were overcome with pleasure.

“Daddy,” you moaned as he began to move at a steady pace, his cocky repeatedly brushing against your sweet spot.

“There she is, there’s daddy’s girl,” he cooed, placing another kiss on your lips.

His words made your pussy clench and a flutter grew in your heart, this man was doing things to you no man had ever done.

“Faster,” you urged, grinding against him.

He granted your wish, pounding into you faster and making your body jolt upwards. Your moans and the sound of skin slapping filled the room and soon, you felt your approaching orgasm.

“So fucking tight, just clenching around me like that, I know you wanna cum, cum on daddy’s cock baby.”

Your nails dug into his back leaving a trail of fire and he pounded into you just the way you liked it.

“Oh fuck— daddy,” you cried, grabbing him and pulling him flush against you. You shuddered as your orgasm ripped through you, your juices soaking the bed as he pulled out.

As he looked down, there was a bit of blood between your legs and on his cock. He quickly grabbed a towel and cleaned you up then himself, placing a kiss on your thigh.

You glimpsed the blood stained towel and buried your face in your hands.

“I— I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—”

He cut you off with a passionate kiss, cupping your cheeks.

“You don’t need to apologize, it’s natural and normal sweetheart.”

You gave him a small smile and he flipped you on top of him swiftly, making you squeal.

“I know it’s your first time but I need you to ride me baby, need to see those fucking tits bounce and have you on top of me.”

“Anything for you,” you smirked, though nervous.

You lined his awaiting cock with your dripping pussy, rubbing it against you and making it drip down his shaft.

“Fucking hell, you’re amazing,” he moaned, bucking his hips.

Slowly, you sank down onto him, both moaning in unison as your warmth and wetness engulfed each other. It was like fireworks exploded, this was everything you had dreamed of. It was a burning stretch but the pain soon turned into pleasure.

You bounced on his cock and he moved his hips to meet your thrusts.

“Oh God— daddy,” you moaned, feeling him hit a whole new spot inside you, you thought was impossible.

“Yeah? You like that? You like riding daddy’s cock? Fucking say it,” he panted.

“I— I love riding daddy’s cock, fuck me harder,” you moaned.

“Good fucking girl.”

He thrusted up into you, grabbing your boobs and playing with your nipples as he did. Your moans were like music to his ears and soon, he felt the familiar feeling of your pussy fluttering and clenching around him like you didn’t want to let him go.

“Squeezing me so fucking tight baby, cum for daddy, soak daddy’s cock.”

Falling on top of him, your body convulsed and your orgasm overtook you, soaking his length and the sheets below you once more. You knew the housekeepers would complain, they always did when the sheets were covered in bodily fluid, hell, you did too, oh the irony.

“Stay just like that baby, daddy’s gonna pump you full of cum,” he murmured.

Nicholas pinned your hands behind your back, the action unusual but making your head swoon.

“Oh, you like that don’t you?” he asked, fucking up into you hard.

“I love it daddy, faster,” you begged.

“As you wish.” His cock began slamming into you faster and soon, you felt the unmistakable feeling of something warm, filling you to the brim.

“That feels so good,” you moaned, grinding against him.

“I know baby, take daddy’s cum, take it in that tight fucking pussy.”

He slowly thrusted into you before he pulled out, the feeling leaving you empty yet fulfilled.

You laid there, tangled in each other, feeling the rise and fall of each other’s chests.

“Did you enjoy yourself beautiful?,” he asked, as you leaned up to look at him.

“More than I could ever imagine.”

He smiled and gave you a kiss on the lips before making his way to the bathroom and coming back with a warm cloth. He cleaned you up, littering kisses as he did.

“You’re so beautiful, I’m so lucky,” he muttered. His words made your heart flutter, would this be a regular occurrence?

“I think I’m lucky too,” you laughed, “a famous actor just took my virginity.”

“And I’d like to take it all over again in the morning, will you stay the night?” he inquired, tossing the cloth on the couch.

“I don’t think I can, I already broke a rule sleeping with a guest but literally sleeping over in a guest’s room? I’d get fired and it’s my first job I—“

He cut you off with a finger over your lips. “Shh, forget who I am? I’ll pull some strings, and even if you do get fired, I’ll easily take care of you.”

You buried your face in his firm chest and he fell onto the bed beside you. The romantic night went on with you tangled in each other’s arms and Nicholas littering kisses all over your face. Who knew being a housekeeper would score you such a big tip.

[magicisrealandsoismyally]

Okay, thought we were being like, chill, but I guess that's a kindness only afforded to people you consider to be women, so I'm gonna break this down piece by piece here, a lot to address.

"purposely obtuse or intellectually dishonest"

right off the bat the fact I disagree with you means I'm being intentionally wrong and evil. There's no room for me to be misguided, or making mistakes, or being uninformed, I'm either playing stupid or lying. Got it.

I "either hate AFABs, or don't take harm against them seriously". Once again, another false dichotomy. I take harm against women incredibly seriously, I just don't think the biggest threat to women is trans women. I think we have the same enemies, conservative men in power. I said you were fueled by fear because I was trying to be nice. It's not just fear. It's anger. Misdirected anger. You, and many others, have decided the easiest thing to do is hate.

Yeah. It is in fact transphobic to demand sex segregated spaces given that a true biological sex isn't fucking real. That's why it's "Assigned male at birth" or "Assigned female at birth". I've been assigned a lot of things throughout my life. So have you. Are you going to tell me those assignments were always accurate? I mean hell, with the amount of cis people out there, their accuracy rate is definitely above 50%. Still not accurate tho.

Transphobia is both the people trying to murder us, and the people, who don't want us in spaces that are away from the people trying to murder us. You are aware that the same cis men wanna kill us both right? You've arbitrarily drawn a line in the sand because you are grossly misunderstanding how trans people work. The number one piece of advice I see on this site from transfems, is how to avoid being SAed. By cis men, by cis women, by trans men. It's so common, that it makes me question if I even want to be in spaces with y'all. You wanna talk about fear? I'm fucking terrified. All the time. The instant I come out to the world, I get to spend the rest of my life, knowing that at any moment, someone says anything negative about me? and my life is over. Because people like you, will believe them. Because the scary transfem must be the person oppressing you. Because its easy, to villainize the minority. And it's easy to decide he's a monster. And all the while, she loses everything just for being an easy target.

You wanna talk physical safety? 83% of genderqueer victims of fatal violence are trans women. People love to kill us.

AMAB privilege is not real. I was not socialized male. I think you have a perspective on how the patriarchy functions that hasn't seen the other side of the fence, so let me go ahead and elaborate on that. Being a Man, is something you can fail out of in the patriarchy. It's a club that is nigh impossible to enter, but really fucking easy to fail out. Under the patriarchy, I am not a man. I failed out of that shit at the age of 8 when I said I didn't like sports. When I did anything "girlie" at all. When I cried. I was a crybaby (according to my family) and a faggot (according to the other kids at school). And from that moment, I was a target. Always have been. I wasn't socialized male, I was socialized as a failed man. Most trans girls are treated that way from a young age. I did not benefit from the patriarchy I was shoved around. I have gotten into an absurd amount of fights that I never started because some fucking asshole decided to beat the shit out of the fag. I spent like a week on tumblr before hearing other shared experiences about this kinda thing. Literally not hard to talk to trans women about this stuff if you, yk, try.

"We don’t need to check genitals I would have no problem with the manliest most masculine most passing trans man in an afab space because no matter what hormones or surgery are involved they cannot rape and impregnate me with their penis the same way an AMAB person could."

How do you know he's trans. How. Tell me right now how you tell the difference between a cis man and a trans man with bottom surgery. Do that without being transphobic, please. Find a way. I'm looking for something hilarious to read today, it's been a long one. Because if you don't have a way, your entire transmisogynistic utopia falls apart here. You can't tell if someone is trans. It's about identity. You cannot tell if someone has a penis. No matter what you do. You cannot tell someone's assigned gender at birth.

And how wonderful, you mentioned prisons, just read about this one. Did you know when transfems are imprisoned they get placed with the most violent cellmates? It's a tactic to reduce prison violence. Give the most violent people their own live in target. They get called prison wives. It's called V-Coding. So yeah, prisons are messed up. For both of us. If only we could talk about that and unite to fix that oh wait that's literally the whole point of having transfems in feminist spaces, crazy how that works.

"Also trans AMAB people commit sex crimes at an even higher rate than cis AMAB people"

WHERE IS THE FUCKING SOURCE. I am tired of TMEs and their constant stream of libel demonizing trans women. All of your nonsense statistics is so fucking stupid. Where are you getting these numbers? The sex offenders list? The one that as recently in the 80s included anyone who crossdressed or hit on a person of the same gender even if they were reciprocating? I literally have heard cis lesbians complain about that shit on this site, you're not even being a feminist by citing sex crimes, you're being a cop. Fucking being trans counted as being a sex criminal for most of American history. Drag queens, trans women, and crossdressers get accused of sex crimes all the fucking time, you have no critical thinking god fucking damn.

"which again did not START segregated they became that way because AMAB people could t be trusted not to rape/assault AFAB ones"

Yeah no lmao, (this next paragraph is going to be USAmerican centric because yk, that's what I learned about growing up) they kicked literally all queer people out when women got the right to vote, both lesbians and bi-women had to fight their way back into these spaces in the decades prior. I feel like we forgot about the Ellen Show or smth? Like feminists did not fucking go to bat for her after she came out. Groups will turn on their supporters the instant they decide they don't need them. Mainstream Feminism turned on people of color and queer people who put their own movements on hold to support the women's right to vote so fucking fast. It's American history too, all I had to do to learn this was have a pulse in my US history class.

Also “capitalism is real because it impacts me in a negative way but all other forms of oppression where I might be considered the privileged one in the dynamic is just hysterical people distracting from capitalism”

Girl, reading comprehension, try it out for size. I did not say these systems of oppression are not real. I'm saying demonization and fear of minorities (like, yk, trans women) is a tool of the existing power systems to make you hate us and not your actual enemy, the people in power (like, yk, rich people who are usually cis white conservative men). You keep bringing up how awful existing systems like prisons are but you just, do not analyze who fucking set those systems up. Private prisons are owned by the rich, not by the trans woman you're yelling at who is 4 bad days away from giving up and killing herself.

If trans AMAB people don’t want to be housed with cis ones, they can do the legwork and create those spaces for themselves like AFAB people did they do NOT have the right to commandeer our movement and literally erase our rights and protections because not allowing AMAB people into these vulnerable spaces might give them the big sad.

Okay so first you tell me feminist spaces weren't originally segregated by sex, and now you tell me it's an AFAB only movement? Because I know for a fact trans people have always been at bat for feminism. American white women said the same shit to women of color between 1920-1965. Cause the instant we become expendable, y'all throw us aside.

commandeer our movement

Really? Do you genuinely think trans women could ever outnumber cis women? What cartoon candyville are you from where there are more trans women than cis women? How the fuck are we going to commandeer the movement? We're like, 0.3% of the population at most. What are you talking about.

YEAH MY GUY IM FORCED TO LIVE LIKE A FUCKING PREY ANIMAL!!!

Okay so for starters, transwomen are also in constant fear. We have literally been hunted, this is just, like, a historical thing. Second, I'm not a guy. Don't call me that. You cannot honestly tell me you're not transphobic and then proceed to use exclusively masc terms to refer to me. That's just wild. Playing along with the tranny does not make you not a trans ally. You're still a transphobe just cause you're fine with trans men.

Some fear is completely rational

Yeah. We're both completely justified in our fear. I do not build my politics off my fear. You do. That's the difference. No matter how terrified I am of TMEs, I still fight for y'all. Always have, always will.

Gender is literally fake and varies from culture to culture. Sex based oppression is real and fucks over the lives of AFAB people worldwide.

Ohh, damn, so close, you'll get it next time I'm sure. See the trick is BOTH OF SEX AND GENDER ARE FAKE. Genderqueer people just admit that it's about self expression. You literally just described how fallible sex assignment is by talking about intersex people, it's like, hella cultural. Sex based oppression is real. So is Gender based oppression. Because people are shitty about fake shit, all the time, we're on tumblr, the "death threats over shipping" website.

You cannot tell me you think you're not transphobic and then claim gender oppression isn't real. I feel bad for any trans people who have the misfortune to interact with you. I hope one day you realize you fought on the wrong side of history. And if not? I hope they speak of you in the same breath as the grown adults trying to stop Ruby Bridges from attending school, in the same breath as the cops at Stonewall. You have an excellent day. I probably won't, but what's new. I'm sorry you're so afraid. I'm sorry you fell for it when they told you who to be afraid of. I'm sorry I couldn't do more. If anyone wants sources on this stuff, i'll add links to posts getting into it, a lot of it's screenshots and i'm not about to make this any longer than it is. There's more ofc, but I can only cite what links I have on hand, y'all can do your own research, read like, any transfem blog while they still exist. https://www.tumblr.com/honeylemony/767694258735136768?source=share https://www.tumblr.com/marxism-transgenderism/767536279224270848/okay-ive-said-before-that-part-of-why https://www.tumblr.com/girldogmystic/766813723287502848/i-wanna-get-more-specific-with-this-according-to

"OP is a terf" is a thought-terminating cliche meant to keep you from questioning the status quo and keep you afraid of being labeled a heretic should you come to your own conclusions about anything.

[14dayswithyou]

no way you dropped the biggest river lore in the tags and moved on like it was nothing 😭 can i ask if this is still your intentions with him? bc it sounds like you changed your mind halfway 🤔

im ngl though i really enjoy how ren and river are similar and different to each other, but does that mean river would hurt his angel but leave our friends alone the same way ren would never hurt his angel but would unalive all of our friends? since they're suppose to be each other opposites. i really hope this makes sense 😬 my final question is what is ren doing on thursday? i want to go on a cute pier date again 🩷🌸

@secretkoa asked: and can i hear more about what unsent memory is suppose to be about or is that off limits? idk if i asked this in my previous question so ignore me if i did! thank yuo and remember to drink lots of water 🐸🌱

⌞♥⌝ For those who haven't seen the original post, I want to quickly clarify once more that while River was originally my OC, he's since been picked up and revamped by my friend Jesse/@unsentmemory!!

However, now that Jesse has stepped away from the yandere community, River's fate (and da fate of Unsent Memories) has kinda been put on the sidelines for the foreseeable future.

‼️ Massive Unsent Memories and River spoilers under the cut ‼️ CW for: mentions of gore, torture, mutilation, self-harm, etc.

With all of that being said, yes, Jesse's original intention for River was for him to be your standard "serial killer-turned-yandere once he accidentally catches feelings for his latest victim (Bunny)". The only main difference is that I originally planned for River to be a generic murderer first, whereas Jesse had him become a yandere right off the bat.

You also asked to know more about Unsent Memories, and I think giving a general synopsis(?) would be fine?? ^^ But basically... After getting involved in a car accident, Bunny wakes up with amnesia and gets tricked into thinking that this random guy — whom they've never met before — is their loving, supportive boyfriend named River. In turn, he convinces Bunny that staying in their shared home would be more beneficial than staying in the hospital as it might rekindle some old memories, he'd be able to take care of them, and it would be easier for them to recover at their own pace. But surprise!! River is actually a frequent patron at the Murderer Motel™ and now has trapped Bunny in his Torture Basement®!!! <3 He also maaaay or may not've been the one who hit them with Ren's car as well... ^^ Oopsie daisy hehe

And yeah!! Similar to what you've said, River was also supposed to share (somewhat of) a narrative foil with Ren!! I personally wanted them both to have similar, complimenting vibes with each other — all while having completely different/separate motives and incentives when it comes to the object of their affection. I'm glad to see it was conveyed well enough; even after Jesse's additions to River's characterisation :3 I know I already shared some examples in the previous tags, but I can share a few more:

Where Ren puts Angel's feelings and opinions above his own, River purposefully ignores Bunny's and does everything for his own personal benefit. Essentially, "I'm doing this for you" vs "I'm doing this for me".

While Ren would never dream about harming Angel in any capacity, he's perfectly happy to kidnap, extort, torture, and kill everyone else... In contrast to River, who's accustomed to torturing and brutalising others for his own twisted enjoyment and sees it as a way to show his interest in Bunny.

Kinda silly how Ren claims to be a freelance programmer (but is actually a hacker) and how River claims to work at a music shop (it's a coverup for his second torture chamber lmaoooo).

[CW: implications of SH] Ren is willing to go as far as mentally and physically hurting himself if Angel asks him to, whereas River is willing to physically mutilate Bunny if it means keeping them by his side. [end CW]

With that being said, you can assume that Ren is easily swayed by Angel's words, opinions, and emotions, whereas River can easily sway and manipulate Bunny due to his own feelings and emotions.

This is something I've actually mentioned before, but Ren always prefers things to be tidy, so he often cleans himself up after disposing of his victims. Compared to River, who casually wears the bloodstains with pride and blames it on getting a bit rough with someone else during a boxing match.

It's no secret that Ren is willing to change every aspect of himself to earn Angel's love, and River is willing to change his serial killer ways to return Bunny's love. Da power of friendship and repressed childhood memories gksdgjh T_T /silly

Ren pretends to be a Normal Guy© with tons of empathy to spare, whereas River pretends to be a Regular Person℗ with the heart of a himbo.

I could go on but you get da point lol

So, yeah!! This is essentially the vibes we had planned for River (and Unsent Memories) before Jesse stepped down /pos ^^ I feel like talking vaguely about UM is fine since River only has a small cameo in 14DWY — and I'm sure that if Jesse ever returns from war (/silly), they'll give River muuuuch more justice than I possibly can :3c

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

This part includes the Russian torture scene, so adding a warning for gore/violence just to be safe!

-----

Eddie comes by Scoops, once Steve gets the job there.

The first time, he laughs at the sailor hat for a minute straight until Steve rolls his eyes and calls back, “I'm taking my lunch!”

“Now?” Robin bitches. “Did you actually get a girl to fall for those ridiculous li-” She cuts off as she comes out of the back room and sees Eddie. “Oh. Huh.”

Eddie flashes a sharp toothed smile at her, and Steve rolls his eyes again and elbows him.

“I'll be back before the actual lunch rush hits this way,” he tells Robin, untying his apron and depositing it to the side of the counter.

To Eddie, he says, “Here, since this brought you so much joy,” and drops the sailor hat onto the top of Eddie's head.

Eddie gives a squawk and squirms around like he's trying to bat him off, though Steve notices he doesn't actually push him away as Steve adjusts the hat to his liking.

“There,” Steve says, shooting Eddie a teasing little grin as he steps back. “You keep that on the whole time, and I'll buy you lunch.”

“A small price to pay for a free meal,” Eddie says solemnly, but his eyes are crinkled a little like they do when he smiles, and he doesn't take the hat off the entire time they eat together.

—

He and Eddie sit out back behind Scoops, passing a cigarette back and forth. It's the end of Steve's shift, and technically he doesn't have to stay anymore, but he's not in a hurry to get home.

Dustin's away at camp, after all.

“Why the hell are you working here?” Eddie asks, sounding like he's been mulling it over for a while.

Steve snorts. “Needed to work somewhere.”

“Okay, fine, but haven't you done the lifeguard thing for like three years?”

Steve - didn't actually expect Eddie to know that, and he shoots him a little smile before he rolls his eyes. “Not a real job, according to my dad. It's just hanging out at the pool all day.”

Eddie scoffs. “Would your dad even know a real job if it bit him?”

“My dad's never really had to work for anything,” Steve mutters. “I didn't get into any of the colleges they wanted me to, so I needed to be taught a lesson. Pretty sure he was hoping it'd humiliate me.”

Eddie tips back, looking him over. “You don't look very humiliated.”

Steve shrugs. “Because I'm not. Yeah, sure, the outfit and the hat are stupid, but work is work. Ice cream makes people happy, I make people happy, it could be worse. Besides, he has no idea what I'm even making here. Every paycheck is a little more I can stash away where he can't touch it.”

Eddie's watching him very closely now, in a way that Steve's never seen before.

“How long have you been doing that?” he asks quietly.

“What, saving money that my dad doesn't know about?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

Eddie's face is serious - far more serious than Steve's ever seen him, than he thinks the situation warrants. Steve frowns.

“Since I got my first job, I guess? Anything I ask for from him comes with some kind of string attached, and I got tired of paying for it.”

Eddie's quiet again. “You've gotten in a lot of fights the last couple of years,” he says, slow and careful like he thinks Steve might bolt. “Lot of bruises.”

He clocks on to what Eddie's trying to get at, then, and a rush of relief washes over him as he hurries to set him straight. “Oh, no, my dad's not abusive or anything, just an asshole. He's never hit me.”

Eddie considers that. “Your dad can be an abusive piece of shit without ever hitting you.”

Steve licks his lips, takes his turn watching Eddie a little more closely. “Sounds like you're familiar with it.”

Eddie laughs, sharp and humorless. “Come on, man, you know who my dad is.”

“I know what people say about him,” Steve agrees. “But I've learned not to listen to rumors.”

Eddie flicks the cigarette butt off into the distance.

Steve gets out another one, puts it between his lips to light it. He takes a long drag, then - pulls his heart out of his chest, setting it between them before he passes the cigarette over.

Eddie's eyes drop down to his heart as he takes the cigarette, but this time he doesn't say anything.

Steve still doesn't ask to see his, even though he's tempted.

“You can listen to these ones,” Eddie says after a while. “They're mostly true.”

“You deserve better,” Steve tells him.

He looks over when Eddie doesn't say anything, finding him watching his heart. It's beating strong and steady.

“So do you,” Eddie says without looking up.

They sit in silence for a while longer, until the cigarette is gone.

Then Steve tucks his heart back into his chest and stands up. “Come on, I'll get us lunch.”

Eddie scowls at him. “You bought last time.”

“Yeah, but a conversation like that deserves a burrito bigger than your head, and I've got employee discount,” Steve counters, holding out his hand.

Eddie concedes, accepting his hand up.

—

Steve keeps making up excuses to buy Eddie lunch after that, every time he comes by at the end of an early shift or close to his lunch break on a later shift.

One day he gets them both pizza from Sbarro, and they sit at one of the sticky plastic tables in the food court. It's so small their knees knock together as they devour their slices, but -

But it also means that Steve can tuck his ankle up against Eddie's, hook his foot half around it, and have an excuse if he needs one.

He doesn't need one.

Eddie doesn't move his foot away, but he does shoot wide eyed little looks over at Steve like he's not sure whether this is a joke or not, and -

“Hi,” Steve says, soft and ridiculous and holy shit, he has to have something better than hi.

But apparently hi works, because Eddie ducks his head, looks back up at him with something soft and wary and surprised all at once.

“Hi,” Eddie says back.

And that's -

It's something.

—

Steve gets closer to Robin - their bickering has started to become playful, and even though her teasing's never been mean, now it sounds almost fond. She still gets annoyed when customers watch them work in complete sync and think they're a couple, but now she just rolls her eyes and complains to him later instead of throwing things off by trying to protest it.

It's nice. He thinks he might be winning her over, and it makes the days pass a lot quicker.

—

He doesn't see Eddie for a week after their pizza lunch.

He tries not to think much about it, just tells himself that if he hasn't seen him by the time Dustin comes back from camp, he'll call him.

—

This isn't like any beating he's taken before.

Steve'd thought he was prepared. He was prepared, at least in the beginning. Billy did just as much damage, even if it was in a shorter span of time, and the ache in his ribs and stomach and face is familiar.

He can handle it.

Besides, it doesn't matter how much they hurt him - protecting Robin and Dustin and Erica is more important than anything else.

"Let's take a look at his heart," one of the soldiers says. "See how honest he's really being."

Steve's pretty sure he makes a choked off little guh.

He doesn't want to let them anywhere near his heart.

But on the other hand - he isn't lying as much as they think he is, and maybe that will prove it? They'll have to undo his hands to get him to take it out, and he briefly considers trying to get the drop on them, but he has to concede that probably won't go very well for him.

It's not like they're really asking for his opinion, anyway.

They aren't making any move to untie his hands, either, and Steve's brow scrunches in confusion.

He sees one of them holding what looks like a mix of a gun and a taser. It - honestly, it looks pretty stupid, like a prop in a bad movie, and he wrinkles his nose at it.

They press it up against his ribcage, pull the trigger - and fuck, he jolts back with the force of it.

His chest splits open.

The shock of it makes him numb for a precious few moments, staring down at the gaping hole in his own chest. The pain doesn't hit him until they take his heart out. It feels like it's being carved out of him, ripped from his chest as though he were being mauled by a wild animal, and he has the somewhat hysterical thought that he shouldn't be alive for this.

His heart was torn out of his chest, and somehow it's still beating, erratic and racing.

"Hmm," one of the soldiers says, tilting his heart this way and that. "Feels real."

The soldier squeezes it, and this time Steve screams at the pressure tightening around his heart, making him convulse in his bonds.

The second soldier laughs.

"They're making such good fakes these days," the second soldier says.

The first soldier relaxes his grip, and Steve sucks in ragged gulps of air, too disoriented to really understand what they're saying.

"Much more sophisticated than patches and paint," the first soldier agrees. "What good would a spy be if he showed his real heart?"

"No," Steve protests. "It's real, come on, you can feel it."

There’s no sign of deception from his heart, but it's beating too wildly from the pain to really make a difference.

"We'll see about that," the second soldier says, handing a switchblade to the first.

The first soldier presses the flat of the blade against his heart. "Let's see what's underneath if we shave a little off?"

—

Steve doesn't really remember anything after that. He must have passed out, because the next thing he hears is Robin's voice, and he realizes he's in a different room, tied back to back with her.

His chest aches.

Everything aches, really, but his chest is the worst of it.

Steve looks down, sees himself solid and in one piece again. He might have thought the whole thing was just a pain induced hallucination if it weren't for the unstable beat of his heart. It's pulsing unsteadily, and he feels as though if he even breathes too hard, it might burst into pieces with the next beat.

But he's not alone now.

He's with Robin, and she makes everything better, and even though his heart beats too fast when he thinks of how much he likes her - it's the good kind of too fast, not the kind that makes him think his heart is going to explode.

He is pretty sure that his heart is going to explode, though, that they're probably going to die here. He knows Robin is thinking the same thing - he just knows, like going through Russian secret agent torture together has made them automatically on the same wave length.

They were heading towards being friends before this, he knows, wonders if maybe they could have ever been for real.

It's a shame he doesn't think he'll ever get to find out.

—

Dustin and Erica find them before Steve loses any fingers.

Which is good. He might not be on the basketball team anymore, but he still plays with Lucas sometimes, and he likes all of his fingers attached to his hand and not on the floor of a secret Russian base.

He tells Dustin that as they're escaping from said Russian secret base. Dustin looks a little pale, hugs him tight around the middle, which makes Steve laugh - it should hurt, he thinks, but he doesn't feel a thing.

The only thing he feels is kind of floaty, and the itchy, overheated sensation he always gets when he's had his heart locked inside his chest for too long.

When no one's looking, Steve takes his heart out of his chest.

His stomach turns.

Whatever he's feeling about it seems distant, too far removed for him to be able to react to it, but the physical sensation of his stomach heaving is present and accounted for.

It only barely looks like a heart. The shape of it is hardly visible, more like a double handful of the precut chuck roast he gets to use as stew meat, sluggishly oozing every time it beats.

The thought of putting it back in his chest makes his stomach heave again, but even like this, he knows he can't keep it out in the open.

He rips off the red scarf from his Scoops uniform, wraps it around his heart to hold it together, and ties it off.

There.

Now no one will notice.

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

-----

Part 6

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @samsoble @persnicketysquares @cryptid-system @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse

[theabigailthorn]

You know, it's a bit weird being a PT patron. I suppose that's more of a statement than a question.

Yeah? I think that's fair.

I think my Patreon is quite atypical compared to many. There's personalised rewards like the books and thank you cards that I do myself by hand, rather than just a merch store administered through Patreon, which other creators do. On the flipside, I try not to bother my Patrons too much with too many posts or being super active on Patreon - I always feel like I'm imposing on you by putting anything there! So it's simultaneously more personal and less?

I go back and forth on it a lot; I feel like I need to offer people some actual tangible rewards for signing up to the Patreon, but the process of doing the rewards and having it be a community seems so grubby? I genuinely feel like I am imposing on the people who give me money enough as it is so I'm anxious to even interact - in a way that I'm obviously not on tumblr! I just get bigtime imposter syndrome about it I guess.

And there's the balancing act I have to do with Nebula stuff, where I have contractual obligations to them to do certain content or put it there first. I've had a lot of conversations with the higher ups in both companies about that balance: it's a whole ongoing thing.

I think I'm gonna revamp the Patreon in the new year, maybe simplify it a little? At the very least I need to alter the 'Facebook and Twitter shout outs tier' cause I'm not even on Twitter anymore. But I'm terrified of changing anything cause the channel depends on the Patreon! Nebula + ads isn't enough to sustain it, not at the moment anyway. I've noticed people talk about "Disney money" or "HBO money" this year lol but to be frank with you, both of those jobs combined paid me less than I paid in rent that year. I'd like Philosophy Tube to be its own thing, self-sustaining, and for me to have enough from acting to live off that.

Anyway, I'll do the usual financial roundup post in December and see how the channel did this year, and plan my 2025 moves from there. Any suggestions are welcome! I recognise your name and I know you've been a patron for ages, so thank you!