#but pollution said no doubles :

[nityarawal]

3/23/23

Dear Courts-

This is my testimony for myself & Carol Lund with her husband Keith.

I was slumlorded out of Joan Grandizio's home at the "Freedom Farm," at 

59605 Grandon Road in Turweleger community of Anza, CA in January.

I started working with Joan on a referral from our handyman Ryan Wickoff. 

He said she fired him for no good reason. He was going to move in. 

So we hired Eddy Lyons - another kind handyman to investigate the trailer I was buying to tow to her farm in Sep. 

Eddy also still needs to be paid for that service! We both did this in good faith and spent a day in Pine Cove with the owner Oceana Cotton.

Eddy also witnessed this kind of abuse at Barbara Bradford's farm after her maintenance guy raped me! She stole most if my furniture and storage!

I was living at Kosh's airbnb in Pinyon at 69907 Averill Drive, Mountain Center, CA 92561 at the time. 

We found out Kosh's well water was polluted (and spreading giardia!)

I passed a parasite worm there for 1st time in life after 1000's of cleanses because of dozens of foul rentals & dirty hospitals/court violence!

Then I moved next door to Mary Schmitz's animal rescue Farm at:

62950 Pinyon Dr

Mountain Center CA 92561 

Moonrise Ranch ✨🐎🏕😊

To a dirty teepee she said was cleaned and 2 geckos crawled under stomach 1st night!

I cleaned her farm for months 24/7 (and it appeared deeply neglected for months.)

I told Mary we needed someone to tow trailer in October and she said her ex boyfriend Sean was going to steal it for himself! ): 

I asked her to advise him not to since she's a realtor and this was my verbal disclosure of my plan to buy it- because she said we could move it to her farm- and I only needed someone to tow it. 

I said it was mean and she drunkenly laughed it off. 

All her instruments were stolen too! (I have pictures of them so we can return them to rightful owners!)

She must be looting all her clients because she stole 3 guitars and all my roomful of assets since I took this job with Joan in January and won't let me go home! 

They also blocked me from water and home many times while I was at Elliots- locking me out late at night and in bad weather!

Oceana Cotton had promised to sell trailer to me or give it to Stevie and Joleen. 

Stevie now has cancer of dick & needs his home returned! (It was indeed stolen!)

Joan liked my handyman Eddy Lyons but fired him too for being friends with her "hated" tenants Carol & Keith and not obeying her "silencing" orders.

Finally, in January things were unbearable tending to Mary's 6 sick dogs while she battled alcoholism- she'd moved me to one of her 5 boyfriend's fathers home: Dan Elliot senior at:

61283 Chalet DR.

MOUNTAIN CENTER, CA

92561.

She promised he was sober- yet I had to ask him and friends not to do crystal meth in house because I'm really allergic and its illegal- cleaned needles up from whole property! I told him this condemned his house as a realtor, I'm allergic to Nazi drugs and don't want to ever see or smell it in a house! 

He was living in his Inherited Probate getting slumlorded by siblings in court stressed out of his head ill. Feds were terrorizing him too and Kosh on late payments with drone trespassing.

So I cooked, cleaned, provided food- gave him all my money and was his slave for months after being enslaved to Mary at her farm- and now Joan doxed my location to cops on brobes for months at her home & camping in snow.

I stayed one week at Dennis Sketchleys- a handyman that gave me a tick in my bed- when he slumlorded me from 54399 valleyview and tollgate/country club homes and beat me. I promised never to go on his property again but was desperate in snow! 

Then Dennis kicked me out after Mary's client Jessie was murdered at her airbnb tree house listing with Mike in Pine Cove. 

(I really need assets from Divorce Dissolution so I don't have to rent from ex-cons and field their abuse!)

Joan hired me to move to her Landers rescue with Glen; he's her 400 pound laborer that is ill from inhumane conditions- he can no longer walk- and rides machines around property hobbling to tend to animals.

There was no hot water or kitchen.

Joan offered me her "clean" Dome house. I got there after dark and took her word that it'd been cleaned for me. 

The bed was filthy and floors covered in dirt I saw in morning. 

Joan wanted me to take over Glen's job at her Lander's farm.

She said Glen was making: $400/mo at

$15/hour and she covered Phone payments, 2 days off, 25 hours a week for Morning feedings with Blankets on horses,

Checking on all cat & pippy Litters.

Puppies- are in-door & out-door with Double gates. Glen used Tractor to take

Manure to dumpster with Wheelbarrow.

She was marketing Earthen domes on camp websites. She said there was no

Kitchen which doesn't seem legal. 

I could see Glen wouldn't live long when I got there with such I'll health abd depression in substandard room even though he's my age! 

I worked for several days alongside them all training with him and encouraged Joan to keep him too. 

(He doesn't have anywhere to go and depends on his job and is very subservient and hard working despite Joan's demands. He nods as told to colleagues/tenants like obedient slave despite physical handicaps from her grossly neglected abd functionally obsolete animal shelters!)

Glen promised to put in hot water and a shower in a bathroom within a week since there was nowhere to clean up properly and it was very cold and windy. I was freaking out with no shower after 2 days of cleaning pig & horse / puppy/cat shit.

Joan asked me to come back to her Anz farm to work on contracts. 

She said I'd be doing the work exchange like Glen taking over his job. 

Joan gave me very detailed directions to her property. 

She said:

"10:30 a.m.

Come down mtn to Rancho Mirage

74 straight

10 west

Hwy 62

29 palms

Windmills

Yucca valley (call Joanne) 

Old women springs rd -Hwy 247- left (north)

20 miles to

Reche Rd. 

Curves to right - turn right

Pass

Landers post office - GPS

5-10 min away 

Left see Moose Lodge

Next White Building

Says Billfs Hall

Left on Gibraltar (if get to end of Gibralter - Gone too far- see back of property.)

1 block f/ end

About mile

Knox- ni-man - (right)

(Applegate way should say)

Pass abandoned house

Next property 

Will see 1 8th 1

(JOANS)

TELEPHONE POLE

58562

METAL EAGLE DANCER

CHURCH- JESUS SAVES

STORAGE"

So I think it's supposed to be:

58562 Applegate Way? 

Or Knox-ni-man? 

(Note: She failed to mention if it was Gibralter Ave or Dr. And they're side by side. How many have they tricked & trashed cars on tow? 

Please present my full letter!)

But the 2nd day I was there I came home one night from getting groceries and Must've passed Gibralter and took a second Gibralter on Left! 

Joan failed to mention there were two Gintralter roads parallel next to each other in my notes as you can see. 

So I end up at the end of this road with a deserted house in the sand. 

I looped around to see where I went wrong on directions and came back to dead end with abandoned house confused. 

I tried to circle out and got stuck in a sand driveway.

 I called Glen to get me and he said put car in reverse or neutral and slammed my car right into the back side of his truck! 

He promised his friend would fix it next day but failed to follow up. I've written them both many times!

I sent Joan the bill for over $3000 and she's shirking her responsibility to all employees that have worked for her.

She invited me back to Freedom Farm in Anza to shower and use her kitchen. 

She said everything was hers in refrigerator and insisted I help myself. 

She wanted to do the contract with me so I paid $40 to download a work exchange rental but she wouldnt sit down and focus on it for several days. She has added from parasites!

Her agenda was to wrongfully evict her tenants!

I told Joan I don't go to court or talk to police due to PTSD. 

She wanted me to go to the Courthouse with her to smear the tenants and I said I can't go to court. 

I asked her to drop me at a park or mall while I wait for her. 

She refused to drop me off and finally I had to get out at curb of Murietta Courthouse and wait for hours in the landfill across street. 

She had no sympathy for PTSD I have from domestic in-house terrorism of courts! 

Then she grilled me about my divorce and lack of settlements all day.

Since then I found out psychiatrist courts kidnapped me to Dr. Singh Was advertising my head for a Probate murder at Moreno Valley Hospital for Riverside Health. 

We feel Joan took bribes on all employee heads for court and is contentious.

Joan failed to sit and focus on contract all weekend because she was obsessed with wrongfully Evicting her tenants! 

I told her I can't Get involved- as my custody battle is priority of my life- and I don't have energy to deal with inhumane actions to people. 

For an animal rescue- we could all see she was being careless and cruel to all of us employees.

Joan told me her lawyer got ill visiting her and had to have his leg amputated when he was recently there and put me on a couch on the enclosed porch waiting room. She said Glen had slept there before me and didn't want me to open it into a bed. 

We feel Joan was intentionally spreading germ warfare. 

All the employees were traumatized by her lawyers diseased fate serving her and she never cleaned out his room. 

When I went into it I vomited and disease is rampant in her homes.

Joan instructed me to never speak to tenants Carol & Keith. 

She said she'd trained Glen just to nod at them. This is not my way but I was trying to be a loyal servant so followed orders. Carol & Keith were confused by my silence and scared having a stranger on property they weren't introduced to, so it put me in a uncomfortable, and compromised position.

One night I was in kitchen making tea and Joan called on speaker phone. 

Carol & Keith heard and were also in kitchen. 

Joan kept calling Carol "fatty" loudly on my phone and screaming other nasty names goading her on my speaker phone from Landers, meanwhile putting me in harms way with her upset and bullied tenants in THEIR kitchen! 

I also ate some potato salad and salami- because Joan said everything was hers- when in fact it was the tenants! That caused alot if drama! I paid Carol back $5 and decided to testify for her rather than Joan!

On Saturday- which was supposed to be my day off- Joan called and texted over a dozen times from morning to night about her tenant dispute harassing us. 

I told her I needed some rest from her drama. 

She wanted to call cops on tenants. 

I said if she needs to do that let me know- so I could leave.

 I have an extremely clean and prudent history despite many court contentious people like Joan trying to take bribes on head in ponzi scam against moms and lying in smear campaigns.

Joan knew I was just diagnosed with PTSD from officer rapes and foul play in September and I couldn't talk to them. 

She lied and said tenant called cops! 

Officer King came and tried to interrogate me and drag me in. 

I said I was just a guest- sat in my car- and refused his interrogation. 

Joan called and he wanted my phone to talk to her. 

I said "no" so he was pissed he had to use own phone and was rude to me rest of night. 

It was upsetting that Joan dragged me in anyways- and kept saying my name "Nitya" - which is very unusual and private. I texted her to never dox my location to a cop or my name again! 

I asked officer King for his card before he left and he was rude not to give it to me. 

I have sent videos of all the sarcastic, rude and nasty things he said to me to both Carol & Joan. 

It was extremely racist.

I told Joan I would leave if cops Terrorized us again and she led me to believe tenants had called- when it was her! She left a voice-mail confessing and then after lying about it.

Monday she wanted me to go to court with her again; I said "no" so she wanted me back in Landers and arranged for another laborer to come up. 

Monday morning I broke her rules -she said -by asking Carol for cops business card before I left. 

I also found out my x's atty died in a scuba diving accident last summer. 

It seemed preminiscious since I'd written a song about her called Barracuda Mamma. Sharkbait song unfolded that weekend and I was pleased with sequel I'd written and good news for my children's freedom from one atty in their pedophile sting.

I sent my new song to Joan and Carol as I was getting ready to drive to her Landers farm hours away.

Joan texted me to leave. 

It was very cold considering I'd worked 24/7 in slumming conditions for a week! She asked about my records and was looking to see if she could get me in trouble for court. 

I confessed dmv.org consulted with my ex husband and was withholding my registration even though IRS stole thousands of dollars of tax returns from 2016 divorce and also hired gay officer Enoch and Daniel Crabtree to steal my Lexus rental car on rape bribes from attys. I'd been caged by Dr. Singh 18 months of covid in shit filled rooms slumlorded out of over a dozen homes, all my assets stolen, and dmv refused to honor years where I couldn't even use Lexus Lemon while it was being serviced! Santa Monica Lexus dealership tried to steal my car while I was raped at hospitals and dmv.org refused to register it. I paid several hundred and they said that would suffice! 

They got several thousand from IRS yet they still fail to send registration sticker! Joan knew I was working for her to clean up that one thing from previous courts abuse!

I left within an hour when she said "bye," only to be greeted by officers Schmitt coming out of bushes hiding at gate. 

He cordially told me to have a good day.

 A block later Sheriff Curtis was coming down her dirt road and pulled me over. 

He said he was arresting me on registration and Cuffed and beat me into back of his car.

Carol said she was talking to officer Schmitt and he realized I lived and worked for Joan so came out and had Curtis release me. 

Curtis threatened to steal my car if he ever sees me again. 

Sargeant Protero raided my home and stole my phone & dog Blu I share with our handyman Eddy Lyons- in covid of 2020. 

Mountain Liquor say our Nazi Sheriff Brags about violence they've inflicted on me and say they wished they'd stolen my Lexus as well as my rental car when they had me raped with broken ribs in covid for 18 months of shit filled hospitals.

Mary Schmitz stole all my belongings from her boyfriend's dad's house where I was renting. 

We all feel both her and Joan doxed my location to have me murdered.

Joan wrote to say she was surprised I didn't go to jail! 

She asked me to wait all day while she sorted everything out. 

I sat in rain for 8+ hours- then she called to say she didn't want me back and laid her silencing trip on me.

I've been homeless since camping in snow. 

Mary Schmitz refuses to return assets and Joan just sends "cease & desist" messages to any reasonable communication.

We feel these animal rescues are a farce and they're actually abusing humans and animals.

I've seen 7 Dr's since with over 20 variants of parasites and bugs. 

Carol says Joan had covid and was taking parasite medication- but she failed to disclose Germ warfare! 

I need reimbursement on car damages, gas, health repercussions and a home for that week of hard work we all did. 

I need $50k in damages to cover unemployment for next year and would like to have my home back with tenants. 

We will bug bomb and disinfect it. Otherwise both her properties should be closed down and are condemned. 

We feel Joan has abused over 6 employees just since September spreading parasitic disease, gaslighting & abusive tactics; and she's not in her right mind to practice business. 

She never had a reasonable reason to fire all of us and it appears she's working for courts full time as a nazi soldier weaponizing motherhood. 

We feel 50k is a fair sum if she settles today so that we can heal at home in peace for remainder of year with kids & new puppies. 

Thankyou!

Blessings,

Nitya Rawal

Encinitasbeachhome.com

National Association of REALTORS 

Journalist @nityalakshmi108 - all docs and Grievances posted since September.

PS

More notes from Joan on Landers Job:

Ac

Porta potty

Joan Grandizio

Facebook 

3 or 4 hours a day

Dome house: 

Bigger Fridge

Table

Toaster oven ( which I bought at Anza Hardware & just returned- because I've been terrified Curtis & Nazi cops would steal my car & kill me with their hospital & court contentious bribed colleagues of atty Sharkbait circle!)

No water

Park in front of Dome

Walk

5 acres

2nd half sold

"Guanacasa" - Costarica

Transfer benefits to Costa

Start business 2-3 years

Buy a property that has a business

150k Ranchette 

Left on Gibraltar (if get to end of Gibralter - Gone too far- see back of property.)

#3/23/23 Dear Courts- This is my testimony for myself & Carol Lund with her husband Keith. I was slumlorded out of Joan Grandizio's home #" at 59605 Grandon Road in Turweleger community of Anza #CA in January. I started working with Joan on a referral from our handyman Ryan Wickoff. He said she fired him for no good reason. He wa #Mountain Center #CA 92561 at the time. We found out Kosh's well water was polluted (and spreading giardia!) I passed a parasite worm there for 1st time i #in January things were unbearable tending to Mary's 6 sick dogs while she battled alcoholism- she'd moved me to one of her 5 boyfriend's fa #CA 92561. She promised he was sober- yet I had to ask him and friends not to do crystal meth in house because I'm really allergic and its #I'm allergic to Nazi drugs and don't want to ever see or smell it in a house! He was living in his Inherited Probate getting slumlorded b #cleaned #provided food- gave him all my money and was his slave for months after being enslaved to Mary at her farm- and now Joan doxed my location #2 days off #25 hours a week for Morning feedings with Blankets on horses #Checking on all cat & pippy Litters. Puppies- are in-door & out-door with Double gates. Glen used Tractor to take Manure to dumpster wit

[reasonsforhope]

"The sleeping giant of the US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has stirred.

In the past month, an avalanche of anti-pollution rules, targeting everything from toxic drinking water to planet-heating gases in the atmosphere, have been issued by the agency. Belatedly, the sizable weight of the US federal government is being thrown at longstanding environmental crises, including the climate emergency.

On Thursday [May 18, 2023], the EPA’s month of frenzied activity was crowned by the toughest ever limits upon carbon pollution from America’s power sector, with large, existing coal and gas plants told they must slash their emissions by 90% or face being shut down.

The measure will, the EPA says, wipe out more than 600m tons of carbon emissions over the next two decades, about double what the entire UK emits each year. But even this wasn’t the biggest pollution reduction announced in recent weeks.

In April, new emissions standards for cars and trucks will eliminate an expected 9bn tons of CO2 by the mid-point of the century, while separate rules issued late last year aim to slash hydrofluorocarbons, planet-heating gases used widely in refrigeration and air conditioning, by 4.6bn tons in the same timeframe. Methane, another highly potent greenhouse gas, will be curtailed by 810m tons over the next decade in another EPA edict.

In just a few short months the EPA, diminished and demoralized under Donald Trump, has flexed its regulatory muscles to the extent that 15bn tons of greenhouse gases – equivalent to about three times the US’s carbon pollution, or nearly half of the entire world’s annual fossil fuel emissions – are set to be prevented, transforming the power basis of Americans’ cars and homes in the process...

If last year’s Inflation Reduction Act (IRA), with its $370bn in clean energy subsidies and enticements for electric car buyers, was the carrot to reducing emissions, the EPA now appears to be bringing a hefty stick.

The IRA should help reduce US emissions by about 40% this decade but the cut needs to be deeper, up to half of 2005 levels, to give the world a chance of avoiding catastrophic heatwaves, wildfires, drought and other climate calamities. The new rules suddenly put America, after years of delay and political rancor, tantalizingly within reach of this...

“It’s clear we’ve reached a pivotal point in human history and it’s on all of us to act right now to protect our future,” said Michael Regan, the administrator of the EPA, in a speech last week at the University of Maryland. The venue was chosen in a nod to the young, climate-concerned voters Joe Biden hopes to court in next year’s presidential election, and who have been dismayed by Biden’s acquiescence to large-scale oil and gas drilling.

“Folks, this is our future we are talking about, and we have a once-in-a-generation opportunity for real climate action,” [Michael Regan, the administrator of the EPA], added. “Failure is not an option, indifference is not an option, inaction is not an option.” ...

It’s not just climate the EPA has acted upon in recent months. There are new standards for chemical plants, such as those that blight the so-called "Cancer Alley" the US, from emitting cancer-causing toxins such as benzene, ethylene oxide and vinyl chloride. New rules curbing mercury, arsenic and lead from industrial facilities have been released, as have tighter limits on emissions of soot and the first ever regulations targeting the presence of per- and polyfluoroalkylsubstances (or PFAS) in drinking water.” ...

For those inside the agency, the breakneck pace has been enervating. “It’s definitely a race against time,” said one senior EPA official, who asked not to be named. “The clock is ticking. It is a sprint through a marathon and it is exhausting.” ...

“We know the work to confront the climate crisis doesn’t stop at strong carbon pollution standards,” said Ben Jealous, the executive director of the Sierra Club.

“The continued use or expansion of fossil power plants is incompatible with a livable future. Simply put, we must not merely limit the use of fossil fuel electricity – we must end it entirely.”"

-via The Guardian (US), 5/16/23

#epa #environmental protection agency #united states #us politics #coal #cw cancer mention #pfas #sustainability #carbon emissions #good news #hope

[probablyasocialecologist]

Analysis of data gathered using cutting-edge methodology – including detailed satellite images and measurements from more than 1,400 ground monitoring stations – reveals a dire picture of dirty air, with 98% of people living in areas with highly damaging fine particulate pollution that exceed World Health Organization guidelines. Almost two-thirds live in areas where air quality is more than double the WHO’s guidelines.

[...]

“This is a severe public health crisis,” said Roel Vermeulen, a professor of environmental epidemiology at Utrecht University who led the team of researchers across the continent that compiled the data. “What we see quite clearly is that nearly everyone in Europe is breathing unhealthy air.”

#pollution #air pollution #christ this is dire

[andypantsx3]

SOMETHING IN THE WATER | 4 | SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems. TAGS/WARNINGS: mermaid au, interspecies relationships, mating rituals/courting behavior, (sort of) case fic, aged up characters, eventual smut, fem pronouns/afab reader LENGTH: 3.3k of est. 21k, 4th of 8 chapters

The next morning dawned with the news that Sunfish had finally settled on a day your team could tour the facilities.

“They did not seem pleased,” Death Arms reported over your morning coffee, his mouth a grim line. The group of you were stuffed up in his room, working through the several plates of homemade breakfast that Inko had blessed you with. Yu rolled her eyes even as she speared egg off of Kamui’s plate. Kamui looked resigned to this behavior.

“They should be honored, we're here to potentially clear their name,” Yu sniffed, then hummed appreciatively as she swallowed. “Wow, Inko knows what she’s about. Is there crack in these eggs?”

“I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been able to taste anything off my own plate,” Kamui returned, sipping at his coffee instead.

Yu’s mouth opened to respond to him, but Death Arms quickly spoke over whatever quip might have fallen out of it.

“Anyway, we’re going next Thursday afternoon,” he said loudly. You smiled into your own food at Yu’s disgruntled expression. “If we haven’t found anything by then, and everything looks in order at Sunfish, I think we can safely assume the initial reports were fabricated. We will issue a reminder that they are not to overfish as populations are just slightly smaller than we would expect, but it seems there’s no real issue to address.”

An unsettled feeling twisted in your stomach.

You didn’t know quite what it was, considering that you hadn’t actually found anything persuasive of Sunfish’s guilt. But something sat heavy in your gut, the memory of both Bakugou and Shouto expressing dislike of the cannery. Neither had said anything to you about wastewater pollution, but you remembered the bioelectric scrape of dislike in Shouto’s words when he spoke, how you could literally feel it at the back of your throat.

Maybe it was just a gut feeling on both of their parts. But gut feelings usually were formed out of something. You didn’t want to leave things here just yet.

The crew finished up breakfast and you set about your usual tasks, running errands between all the researchers, double-checking counts, compiling results, and going glassy-eyed in front of observation station footage.

It was only later in the afternoon that you were unleashed back onto the water with Yu and Kamui, boating out to check all the nets and the occasional trap. Kamui frowned over a couple of the specimens you’d caught, but eventually judged that they looked mostly okay, and tagged them to release.

You were on the north side, penning down the observations Kamui occasionally called back to you, when you heard the sluicing sound of something breaking the surface of the water a few feet behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder—only for an ice cold stab of panic to puncture your gut.

Shouto was floating a couple of meters away, looking curiously towards your boat. From his angle, you could tell he was definitely registering Kamui and Yu onboard with you, and you could just see the tiniest little tilt of his head, a blinking of those two-toned eyes.

Oh no.

He wasn’t considering swimming over, was he?

Yu and Kamui probably could be trusted to keep the secret, if they caught sight of him, but they were also marine biologists—and Shouto was a discovery that could make an entire career.

Even if they were to never say anything, though, the more people who knew about him, the more chance there was of that information escaping them. You could just imagine Yu giddily reliving her discovery several cups into a bottle of sake, and that wasn’t nothing if a marine biologist was claiming it, drunk or not.

As if on cue, Shouto swam closer, and you dropped the log book like a hot potato, frantically flapping your arms at him not to come any nearer.

He stopped, blinking those beautiful eyes at you again, their colors clear and true even a few meters out. From this distance you could just make out a tiny frown pulling at his mouth.

Oh, his pout was so cute. But you didn’t have time to care right now—you had to get him out of there before Yu and Kamui saw him.

You waved again, making a shooing motion, as quietly but as panicked as you could make it, to convey urgency. Shouto’s frown deepened, and you raised your eyebrows at him, flapping your hand even faster.

“What do you think, kiddo?” Yu’s voice suddenly floated back to you from the front of the boat.

You whipped around, registering her head just beginning to turn towards you.

A bone-deep panic slashed down your body, instantly blanking out all thought. Before you even registered that you were moving, your shin had already connected with the side of the boat, and you were throwing yourself over the side opposite Shouto.

The warm water slapped you in the chest as you fell, knocking the wind right out of you. It rushed up your nose, filling your mouth. You coughed and sputtered as you broke the surface, inhaling more water droplets than air, the salt burning in your throat. Yu’s startled yelp met your ears, sounding truly rattled.

“Kid! Oh my god, are you okay?” she yelled, louder than needed when she was only feet away. You hadn’t fallen far.

You licked the salt out of your mouth and rubbed it out of your eyes, catching sight of her leaning over the side of the boat in concern. Kamui had also apparently dropped the fish he was inspecting, and was holding out a long, nut-brown arm to you. You couldn’t see Shouto from down in the water, but you hoped he’d taken the opportunity to clear out.

You coughed again and paddled back over, letting Kamui catch your hand. He hauled you back up into the boat, helping you over the side with a hand under your elbow.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, even as you sopped water everywhere climbing back over the side. Your clothes weighed about a million pounds, dragging you down into the seats. “I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.”

Yu clucked as she shoved a spare towel down onto your head, blinding you in teal fabric. “You gave me a heart attack, you little meatball.”

You yanked the towel out of your mouth, giving her your most apologetic grin as you emerged from the terry cloth folds. “It’s just a little water, I’m fine,” you promised.

A quick glance behind her and Kamui told you that Shouto had disappeared, and a wave of relief washed through you, pooling in your limbs and weighing you down further into the pale vinyl of the boat seats.

“What the heck were you even doing?” Yu demanded, hands on her hips. You noticed Kamui’s eyes dart quickly to the swell of her thigh as she did, and then away again, as if he’d been momentarily pulled by a magnet. You suppressed a laugh. They were both so obvious.

“I was just looking at the island, I wasn’t paying attention when I stepped forward,” you lied, trying your best to look innocent.

Yu’s mouth twisted, but then she sniffed, seeming satisfied. “Well don’t do it again, kid,” she ordered you, waving a perfectly manicured finger at you.

You saluted her, then adjusted the towel around you, wrapping yourself securely like a waterlogged burrito. “Yes ma’am.”

She sighed, then turned to exchange a couple quick words with Kamui, and you peered back behind her, satisfied when you only saw the turquoise, glassy sparkle of unbroken water lapping gently around the reef. No Shouto, for sure.

“We’ll call it here for today,” Yu decided. “Since we’re not finding anything anyway.”

You didn’t protest, eager to get out of the area in case Shouto was still around, just lurking. You really would think a merman whose species had effectively hidden themselves for all of human history would have been like, a little bit more discerning about who he showed himself to. Honestly, the fact that you even knew he was around was a bit of a concern.

A sudden suspicion formed in the back of your mind.

Come to think of it, just why had Shouto been skulking around your boat in the first place, nearly a week ago? You made a mental note to ask him, when he inevitably found you later.

Which was another thing of concern. He always, always seemed to find you, no matter what stretch of island water you even dipped a toe into. How the heck was he doing that, either?

The three of you boated back to the island dock, Kamui ducking into the grocery for a couple of takeaway sandwiches for dinner, since you were still soaking wet and in no state to settle in at a restaurant. You discussed your lack of findings again briefly with Death Arms as you returned, and then you were free to trek back to your room, left to your own devices for the rest of the evening.

You wrestled yourself out of your wet clothes and into a bathing suit and a dry pair of shorts, and then took your dinner down to the beach, almost certain you would find Shouto there.

And within minutes, you were proved correct. A head of white and scarlet hair broke the surface of the water just as you unwrapped your sandwich. Shouto drew closer, dragging himself heavily through the shallows on the strength of his arms alone.

You watched, slightly transfixed, as all that wet muscle glittered in the orange light of the evening sun, cording with his lithe movements.

“Are you alright?” Shouto asked as he drew up in front of you, still in a few inches of water. The soft waves lapped the skin of his hip where it joined his tail, fading from smooth, pale flesh into speckled red and white muscle.

You blinked, your gaze flashing back up to his face, which quickly proved to be a mistake. It was even prettier than the rest of him, an almost impossible feat. His eyebrows were drawn with concern, and his mismatched eyes were darting over you, like he was evaluating you for injury.

You reached out, poking him in the chest. “I’m fine! I was distracting them from you! What the heck were you doing, swimming towards the boat like Kamui and Yu were old besties?”

A frown pulled at Shouto’s perfectly plush mouth. “They were with you,” he said, his deep tone earnest.

This drew you up a little short, your finger going limp against his chest. “What?”

Shouto leaned in closer, dipping that handsome head to look you more closely in the eyes. You tried not to find the move so charming. “They are your friends, are they not?”

You puzzled over this. “Well, yeah, sort of. They’re fellow researchers and I just met them a few weeks ago, but I think they’re good people. But—Shouto, you can’t just go up to people like that!”

Shouto’s mouth pulled into a tiny frown again. “I am aware. But you are an exception, I thought…”

The look on his face was enough for you to instantly cave, everything crumbling in the face of the sweetness of his pout. You sighed. Who would have ever thought, weeks ago, that you would succumb to the pout of a merman, of all things?

“Shouto. I think the researchers I am with are good people who want to help. But at the same time, you are a legend that humankind has chased for centuries. You would make a marine biologist’s career—you could make someone one of the most famous researchers of all time.”

Warm, wet fingers met the underside of your chin, startling you. But Shouto grasped your face gently, tipping it up to his. “Then—when you fell in the water. You were protecting me?” he asked.

Your face flushed hot. Really it had just been a distraction, a brief bout of lunacy. He made it sound way more noble than it had been intended to be.

“I was providing cover,” you said defensively.

Shouto’s eyes roved over you, long and slow and evaluative, ending in an unhurried catlike blink. Then a tiny hint of a smile pressed at the corner of his mouth. “You were protecting me,” he decided.

Your face went impossibly hotter, burning so warm you were certain he would feel it against his fingers. But Shouto just looked pleased. The hand on your face disappeared, only to reappear on your ankle, gripping gently but firmly, as he always seemed to do.

You did not want to ask what that was about.

You took a bite of your sandwich to avoid answering, pausing in your chewing when Shouto looked interested.

“You wanna try?” you asked, offering it to him. “It’s veggies and cheese—do you know if you can digest cheese?”

Shouto blinked those beautiful eyes at you, his nose scrunching the tiniest bit. “Izuku lets me try his food sometimes. I do not like cheese.”

You laughed. You couldn’t imagine not liking cheese, but you supposed it only made sense if you hadn’t grown up eating it.

“You want a veggie out of it, then?” you asked.

Shouto leaned forward, inspecting your sandwich. You noticed him inhale slightly, like he was taking stock of it, before he eventually nodded. “The rest of it smells acceptable.”

You smiled, working some tomato, basil, and a sprig of arugula free for him. “Your order, sir,” you said, laying them out in his outstretched hand. You tried not to laugh at how ridiculous the sliced tomato looked sitting there in his large palm, caged in by five deadly-looking claws.

Shouto took a delicate bite of the tomato, his sharp canines another ridiculous contrast. You hid another smile by taking a bite of your sandwich.

Which of course is when he struck.

“For my people, it is customary to provide for one’s mate,” he said, his tone low and thoughtful. “Food and protection, both of which you have given me today.”

A chunk of bread lodged itself suddenly in the back of your throat, and you spluttered, hacking.

Shouto leaned in, concerned, and you waved a hand at him as you coughed to indicate you were okay, barely managing to wheeze out, “I’m fine. Swallowed—wrong.”

Shouto lingered close, looking you over with a little frown until your breathing regulated again.

“Sorry. Just swallowed my sandwich wrong,” you said. “You surprised me.”

Shouto’s brow knitted. “You do not exchange such things with mates?”

Your face went hot, like an instant sunburn. “I—you must have learned from Bakugou and your sister that humans don’t—-it’s not quite like that.”

Shouto blinked guilelessly, looking like he was waiting for you to continue. You looked out to sea, unable to make any sort of eye contact with him while discussing this. You were suddenly all too aware of the strength and shape of him next to you.

“Humans don’t like, inherently know their partners,” you told him, fixing your eyes to the orange shine of the late evening sun on the gentle waves. “We live in mostly monogamous cultures but there’s also no like, biological imperative to choose just one permanent mate. And the way modern culture is structured—we don’t have traditional, um, practices like that. There are common dates people go on, like dinner and a movie, but that’s it.”

You heard the scrape of Shouto’s scales over the sand next to you, a sudden swish of his tail in the shallow water. “Dinner and a movie,” he repeated.

You nodded. “Have Izuku or Bakugou explained movies?”

Shouto gave a deep hum of affirmation. “I have never seen one, however.”

You scrunched your toes in the sand absently. “You might like them. There’s a bunch of ones about mermaids—you’d probably think they’re funny.”

Shouto made that low humming sound again, sounding thoughtful. “And your people don’t have other mating practices?”

Your cheeks burned even hotter. Why the heck was he so interested, anyway? Could he not just eat his tomato and give a marine biologist a break?

“There’s nothing super standard across all cultures,” you said. “I guess where I’m from guys will give a girl flowers or jewelry or something.”

Shouto made another small sound, more interested this time, and you turned to look at him just as he leaned into you again. You froze, startled by his proximity. Up close his eyes were even more beautiful, the blue of his left eye the exact shade of the tropical waters of the island, made even more standout by the surrounding pink scar tissue.

You clenched your fingers at your side against the urge to smooth them over it.

He really was so pretty, a thought that you absolutely should not be having about a dude who wasn’t even fully of your same species, though he was certainly fairly human enough, you thought. The rest of him was all hard muscle and strong lines in the corner of your vision, and you stared resolutely at his face so your vision didn’t snag on the clench of those abs as he leaned over you.

A hand touching your free one made you jump, and you just managed to keep your sandwich from dropping into the sand.

You glanced down, to see Shouto pressing two chips of something knobby into your hand, carefully avoiding the delicate skin of your wrist by angling his claws up. “For you,” he said, his tone low and soft.

It tickled something at the back of your brain, making your flush deepen, and you kept your eyes pinned to the chips shyly.

When you brought your hand closer to your face, the chips resolved themselves into two differently-colored pieces of coral, clearly sliced off by Shouto’s sharp claws again. One was a brilliant red, nearly scarlet like the color of the left side of Shouto’s hair. And the other was duller, a washed out white, the color of his right.

You blinked up at him, your mouth opening with a question about why he would be giving this to you—until your gaze jerked back down again, focusing on the white coral.

White coral. As in, bleached of all color. As in, coral bleaching, which occurred with changes in seawater chemistry, due to temperature, acidity changes, or pollution.

Pollution like the kind you’d been looking for from Sunfish.

“You seemed to like the coral, the other day,” Shouto said, by way of explanation. It was your growing concern, however, that had you only half-focused on his words, your entire world narrowing to the sliver of white coral in your hand.

“Shouto,” you said, looking up at him in wonder. “You are literally amazing. I think you might have just cracked this entire case for me.”

Shouto blinked, looking as though he did not know how to feel about this. His skin flushed, a strange sudden peek of red color creeping over his face, and his pupils went a little sharper, more slitted. Any other time you would have been fascinated by a change like this, maybe have even been bold enough to lean in and inspect him.

But you were already getting to your feet, your sandwich falling off of your lap.

“I have to go to the lab—I’ll see you later, alright?” you said distractedly.

Shouto’s brows knitted, but you did not wait for a reply. You began sprinting for Kamui’s makeshift lab—leaving your sandwich and the handsome merprince behind you in the sand.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #shouto x reader #shoto x reader

[kp777]

By Julia Conley

Common Dreams

April 25, 2023

Scientists are so alarmed by a new study on ocean warming that some declined to speak about it on the record, the BBC reported Tuesday.

"One spoke of being 'extremely worried and completely stressed,'" the outlet reported regarding a scientist who was approached about research published in the journal Earth System Science Data on April 17, as the study warned that the ocean is heating up more rapidly than experts previously realized—posing a greater risk for sea-level rise, extreme weather, and the loss of marine ecosystems.

Scientists from institutions including Mercator Ocean International in France, Scripps Institution of Oceanography in the United States, and Royal Netherlands Institute for Sea Research collaborated to discover that as the planet has accumulated as much heat in the past 15 years as it did in the previous 45 years, the majority of the excess heat has been absorbed by the oceans.

In March, researchers examining the ocean off the east coast of North America found that the water's surface was 13.8°C, or 14.8°F, hotter than the average temperature between 1981 and 2011.

The study notes that a rapid drop in shipping-related pollution could be behind some of the most recent warming, since fuel regulations introduced in 2020 by the International Maritime Organization reduced the heat-reflecting aerosol particles in the atmosphere and caused the ocean to absorb more energy.

But that doesn't account for the average global ocean surface temperature rising by 0.9°C from preindustrial levels, with 0.6°C taking place in the last four decades.

The study represents "one of those 'sit up and read very carefully' moments," said former BBC science editor David Shukman.

Lead study author Karina Von Schuckmann of Mercator Ocean International told the BBC that "it's not yet well established, why such a rapid change, and such a huge change is happening."

"We have doubled the heat in the climate system the last 15 years, I don't want to say this is climate change, or natural variability or a mixture of both, we don't know yet," she said. "But we do see this change."

Scientists have consistently warned that the continued burning of fossil fuels by humans is heating the planet, including the oceans. Hotter oceans could lead to further glacial melting—in turn weakening ocean currents that carry warm water across the globe and support the global food chain—as well as intensified hurricanes and tropical storms, ocean acidification, and rising sea levels due to thermal expansion.

A study published earlier this year also found that rising ocean temperatures combined with high levels of salinity lead to the "stratification" of the oceans, and in turn, a loss of oxygen in the water.

"Deoxygenation itself is a nightmare for not only marine life and ecosystems but also for humans and our terrestrial ecosystems," researchers from the Chinese Academy of Sciences, the National Center for Atmospheric Research, and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration said in January. "Reducing oceanic diversity and displacing important species can wreak havoc on fishing-dependent communities and their economies, and this can have a ripple effect on the way most people are able to interact with their environment."

The unusual warming trend over recent years has been detected as a strong El Niño Southern Oscillation (ENSO) is expected to form in the coming months—a naturally occurring phenomenon that warms oceans and will reverse the cooling impact of La Niña, which has been in effect for the past three years.

"If a new El Niño comes on top of it, we will probably have additional global warming of 0.2-0.25°C," Dr. Josef Ludescher of the Potsdam Institute for Climate Research told the BBC.

The world's oceans are a crucial tool in moderating the climate, as they absorb heat trapped in the atmosphere by greenhouse gases.

Too much warming has led to concerns among scientists that "as more heat goes into the ocean, the waters may be less able to store excess energy," the BBC reported.

The anxiety of climate experts regarding the new findings, said the global climate action movement Extinction Rebellion, drives home the point that "scientists are just people with lives and families who've learnt to understand the implications of data better."

Read more.

#climate change #global warming #ocean warming #ocean acidification #deep ocean currents #degradation of ecosystems #ocean deoxygenation

[heich0e]

polluted geto suguru, gojo satoru, ryomen sukuna, kamo choso/f!reader word count: 11k warnings: 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT, recreational drug use (weed), dubious consent, slight sexual coercion, sex under the influence, gangbang, oral sex (f! and m!receiving), double penetration (oral and vaginal), biting, spitting, creampie, snowballing, pussyjob, fingering, choking, squirting, hair pulling, generally rough sex, implication of non-consensual filming/photography, shotgunning, college!au, no curses!au, slight dumbification, ft a cameo from nanami. a/n: this is a continuation of a drabble i posted ages ago (the first few hundred words of this fic!) feel free to skip that if you've already read it. also these tags alone are sending me to hell. enjoy! never talk to me about this again! crossposted to AO3

"D'ya want some?" Gojo asks up at you, his head in your lap as you tap at the screen of your cellphone idly, leaving a heart on a friend's perfectly filtered photo that only makes you feel a little bitter when you look at it.

"Hm?" you ask, glancing down towards him as he peers up at your face. He has a bag of gummy candy resting on his tummy, and you part your lips and stick your tongue out slightly, asking for one of his sweets.

He lets out a little heh at your expression before popping a pink and blue candy–dusted with a sweet-sour crystalline coating–into your waiting mouth.

"I meant the weed," Gojo answers your earlier hum only once you begin to chew the treat he'd just fed you. He sticks his thumb in his mouth, licking it clean of the tangy sugar that clings to it. "D'ya want some?"

"Oh," you reply, eyes flickering to the other side of Gojo and Geto's dorm room where Choso is seated on the floor, a pillow on his lap and an old DVD case on top of it. He's diligently packing the ground up weed into a rolling paper–little bits of green clinging to the tips of his fingers like the sugar had to Gojo's. "I don't think so."

You really shouldn't.

"Why?" Satoru asks petulantly. He's not smoking either–isn't allowed to since the last time when he threw up in Geto's backpack and ruined his social anthropology textbook–but he seems indignant at your refusal. 

Choso's dark eyes flicker up to you too, as though interested in your reply, but when he sees you looking back at him he busies himself with his rolling once more with a streak of pink curling across his cheeks. 

He's still a little shy around you.

"Who cares?" Sukuna chimes in from where he's reclining in Gojo's desk chair at the end of the bed, tossing a miniature foam basketball up into the air idly before catching it in one large hand and repeating the motion. "Means more weed for us. Fushiguro said this is good shit when I picked up earlier, too."

"That guy with the scar?" Geto asks, peeking out from under his textbook and Sukuna grunts out some sort of affirmative. 

Suguru is sprawled out across his bed directly opposite you now that Nanami left to return to his own room–finding the rest of you too distracting to get anything done during what was supposed to be a study session.

You feel something prod against your lips and look down to see Gojo attempting to feed you another sweet. You let him. 

"You didn't answer my question," he singsongs as you bite down on the chewy confection between your teeth. 

You push most of the rapidly melting, sticky-sweet candy into your cheek with your tongue to talk around it. "I get really.... annoying when I'm high."

Gojo stares up at you for a moment before pulling himself into a seated position at your side.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

A chuckle from across the room tears your eyes away from Satoru's inquisitive gaze, and towards Sukuna who has suddenly stopped tossing the basketball and instead has his attention fixed on you.

You glare at him weakly, knowing what he's thinking without him saying it. "Shut up."

It only makes him laugh again, a sharp smirk on his lips.

"What?" Gojo whines, missing the unspoken words you and Sukuna have exchanged.

"Weed doesn't make her annoying," Sukuna drawls, tossing the basketball up again, only this time away from him–you watch as it curves gracefully in the air, swishing through the little net Geto and Gojo have affixed to the back of their door. "She's always annoying."

"Kuna–" you mumble warningly, your cheeks flushing hot as you squirm nervously atop the rumpled sheets of Satoru's bed.

Everyone has stopped what they're doing now: Suguru's textbook set aside, Choso's fingers stilling with the edge of the nearly finished joint pinched between them.

Sukuna's smirk turns into something even sharper, a smile unfurling slow and wicked across his face. 

"Weed doesn't make her annoying–it makes her into a whore."

Everything is hot.

The prickle of smoke in your lungs each time the joint is held to your lips—though you’ve lost track of whose fingers are holding it out to you now.

The flush that curls up your neck and through your face. It burns, almost; blood rushing too close to the surface of your skin to be comfortable.

The three sets of eyes you feel on your skin from various places around the room.

Sukuna’s mouth.

The dorm room smells unmistakably of weed–heavy, earthy, dank—even with the window open and a fan on to whisk the curling plumes of smoke outside. There’s a grimy old towel crammed into the space underneath the door to keep the scent from seeping out into the hallway, but the boys’ RA has let them get away with far worse in their time in residence. At this point you’re not exactly sure what it would take for them to earn a warning knock, much less any sort of formal reprimand.

You guess it pays to have your family’s name plastered on most of the buildings on campus like Satoru’s does.

There’s music playing in the room, bass heavy and slow, and you know it must be Geto’s doing even if you aren’t sure when he turned it on. You recognize the familiar sound from late night drives you’ve taken with him in his car—an old silver sedan that he takes immaculate care of, constantly tinkering away at it—and the songs he sends you to listen to from the other side of your table in the library while you study. The music, like the towel, serves its own purpose.

To mask the sound of you.

“‘Kuna,” you pant raggedly, fingers twisting into his blush pink hair and tugging. He sucks harder at the sensitive spot on your neck that he’s been lavishing with attention for the past few minutes—the one he’s more than familiar with from previous hookups—in retaliation. “Kiss me, kiss me.”

He chuckles, but indulges your desperation, mouthing his way back to your lips: up your throat, along your jaw, eventually slotting his soft mouth to yours. 

“She’s so whiny when she’s high,” Gojo says breathlessly, but he sounds closer to you than you expect him to. 

You peel your heavy eyelids open only to see him hovering just over Sukuna’s shoulder, blinking when you spot his unsettlingly blue eyes watching you raptly. You try to pull back from Sukuna’s rapacious kiss, startled by Satoru’s proximity, but the boy beneath you’s insistent hands hold you even more firmly to his lap in protest–earning him another needy sound from your throat as your hips grind down against his own. Your lips part in a silent cry of objection, and Sukuna takes it as an invitation to press his tongue even deeper into your open mouth.

“When’s someone else gonna get a turn?” Gojo complains, reaching out to tug on a bit of your hair beside your cheek childishly. 

You’d chastise him if Sukuna’s tongue wasn’t mapping the depths of your throat.

“Relax, Satoru.” Geto snorts from his place on his dormitory bed. 

Suguru’s textbook has long been discarded on the floor, the page he’d been reading marked but the time for revision evidently passed, and his hair has been retied into a neater knot at the top of his head, pulled back from his handsome face. His eyes watch carefully as Sukuna’s hands slip up underneath the hem of your top, thumbs dipping beneath the cups of your bra to sweep against the soft flesh. Suguru glances at the blonde still lingering over you from where he sits reclined–his legs crossed and body language apathetic though his attention feels anything but. 

“We’ll all get our chance, so just enjoy the show.”

Sukuna draws back suddenly, lips parting from yours with one final wet smack. 

He hums, nosing at your cheek as you try futilely to chase his mouth, whimpering as he denies you it. There’s a smirk curling, smug and cruel and sure, at the corner of his lips. 

“He might have a point, y’know,” Sukuna drawls.

You make a little sound of confusion, your hands slipping from the back of Sukuna’s neck to the front of his t-shirt, pressing against the hard planes of his chest as you balance yourself atop his lap. The rolling desk chair you’re straddling him in really isn’t meant for two, especially not when you’re as dizzy as you currently feel, but Sukuna keeps you steady with his large hands braced on your hips.

He’d coaxed you over after your first few puffs and hadn’t let you leave his grasp since.

“Stop teasing,” you murmur, eyes tracing his pink, spit-slicked lips covetously.

“But if I fuck you first, that’s not really fair is it?—”

He tilts his face up and kisses you, deceptively gentle, and then pinches your bottom lip between his sharp teeth—pulling away until it slips from his bite and snaps back into place. You’re bewildered by his comment, peering at him curiously as your lip stings.

When has Sukuna ever cared about being fair? 

He chuckles at your expression, as though he senses your thought without you saying it.

”—Not when I know just how you like it.”

“Do you two do this a lot?” Geto asks from his bed on the other side of the room, his tone level and impassive. Sukuna’s scarlet gaze flickers to him over your shoulder, and he grins—sharp and mean.

“Only when she begs for it.”

You’d refute the claim, but it has its grounds.

“That’s big talk, Ryomen,” Geto remarks, but there’s an unmistakably competitive undercurrent to his lighthearted tone.

“Too much talk,” Satoru interjects exasperatedly, cutting between the two men’s tense exchange and dragging you up to your feet in one swift motion. He’s at the end of his non-existent patience. 

You move easily, pliably, under Gojo’s greater strength and imposing stature as he hauls you up; you stumble forward into his chest, unbalanced on your feet as your head swims. You’re dizzy, everything a little fuzzy around the edges, but he holds you steady with his palms cupping your cheeks and ducks down to crush his mouth to yours.

Satoru tastes sweet like the candy he was eating earlier, though you can’t honestly say how long it’s been since he’s polished off the bag, and he sounds just as tooth-achingly saccharine. Little moans and groans of praise slip from him unbidden as he topples back across his bed and drags you down with him.

“Toru, be careful,” you complain against his eagerness, the words half-lost to his lips, but he doesn’t seem to care. 

He flips you over so you’re the one on your back, rising to his knees and pulling your hips down towards him so they rest atop his thighs. Your shoulder blades press into the soft give of his mattress, blinking up at him as he curls forward over your frame until the two of you are nose to nose. His breathing is notably faster, heavier than it had been before, as his hands trail up and down your sides, mapping every divot and curve of your thighs, hips and ribs.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs infatuatedly, before locking your mouths together once more.

Satoru’s hands are greedy and relentless: pawing and groping at any part of you that he can reach. When he stretches his fingers wide, you’re almost startled by just how much of your torso they can span, digging into your flesh in fervent squeezes.

“I bet you taste good,” he breathes hotly against your mouth, pulling back to look at you with his pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen them—it’s hard to believe he hasn’t taken a single hit from the joint at all with the way the inky black threatens to swallow the striking blue of his irises.

You hear a deep exhale, and the smell of smoke in the room thickens for a moment. Your head lolls to the side against Satoru’s soft cotton bedspread, and your unfocused eyes slide to Sukuna as he breathes out a wispy cloud of grey. His next words are directed to Gojo, but his attention is only on you. 

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Satoru heeds his advice zealously, and makes his way down your body while you writhe beneath him. It’s a little inundating, the way he touches you—the pressure of his body on yours, the heat of his big big hands, the praises that he whispers into every place his lips graze.

“Toru, I’m hot,” you complain, squirming as he kisses along your ribs.

He peeks up at you over the curve of your tummy, toying with the hem of your shirt between his fingers. His bright eyes are wide with excitement and his cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I can help you with that.” 

Eagerly he works to peel your top off over your head, it’s a little uncoordinated but you feel an immediate relief as the cool air from the fan meets your sticky skin. Satoru ducks down once your top has been shucked aside and you’re laid flat against the bed again, sucking a stinging mark into the swell of your chest that peeks out from your bra. He cups one palm around either breast to push them together and further into his drooling mouth. But still he doesn’t linger, frenetic in his avidity, moving quickly back down to the waistband of your pants and toying with the button of your jeans that holds them closed.

“Please, Satoru,” you mumble, almost shyly but undeniably strained, as his fingertips stroke the soft skin just below your navel.

He looks at you with a cheshire grin, pleased beyond anything to have you begging, and he needs no further encouragement to pop the closure open. 

You lift your hips so Satoru can tug your jeans down your thighs, but he wastes no time in settling back between your parted thighs.

“Oh, look at her,” he coos, his thumb pressing against the damp patch of cotton between your legs. Your hips squirm at the pressure, but he keeps you pinned in place. “You’re so wet.”

With no warning, he dips down and sucks against the material lewdly.

“Toru!” you gasp, a hand flying to his hair and tugging on the impossibly soft white strands, though it does nothing to pry him away from his prize.

“Shh, shh,” he quiets you, pinching at your thigh punitively until your grip slackens, “I don’t wanna waste it.”

In seconds the cotton is soaked through with his spit, clinging to the lips of your cunt as he pushes it between your folds with his tongue. He hums happily with every debauched slurp.

“This is nasty,” Geto says with a laugh as he watches the spectacle unfolding from the bed opposite, sounding every bit as though he’s enjoying himself. “You’re always such a freak, Satoru.” 

You’re a little too far gone to catch the implication that you’re not the first girl the two of them have shared. Probably not even in this very room.

“Give her another hit, Kamo,” Sukuna chimes in from his seat at the end of the bed, leaning back leisurely in his chair as he takes in the scene before him.

You’d almost forgotten Choso was there, honestly, especially with Gojo’s tongue toying with your clit through the thin material of your panties. You tilt your head to the side, looking through the hazy dorm room to see the youngest (and the quietest) of the four men watching you with pink in his cheeks, and another unlit joint between his fingers. 

Another one? How many have you gone through now?

Choso approaches trepidatiously, and crouches next to the bed beside your head. He clicks the purple plastic lighter held in his fingers, sparking it to life, and holds it to the end of the joint pinched between his lips. He takes a small puff to start it off, pursing his mouth to the side on his exhale as he tries not to blow the smoke into your already teary eyes. He gently holds the unlit end to your lips in offering once it’s burning.

“Just a little one, okay?” you say warily, wrapping your lips around the little paper filter. He nods with his gaze on nothing but your mouth, and swallows thickly. 

You feel the first prickle of smoke in your burning lungs at the exact moment Gojo wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard.

You gasp, drawing in a breath too deeply, and immediately choke on the bitter, acrid taste that floods your throat. You cough and cough, smoke slipping from your mouth and nose while your back arches high off Satoru’s bed with every hack, and spit dribbles from the corner of your lips messily.

“Are you alright?” Choso asks, immediately tossing the joint aside into the grody, chipped ashtray resting under the window. He quickly wipes the saliva on your chin away with the edge of his hoodie sleeve, looking at you with panicked eyes.

“Oh, Satoru, that was mean,” Geto calls from his place across the room, but he sounds almost pleased.

“She’s not paying attention to me.” Gojo pulls back from between your legs, a pout on his slick, swollen lips. A long, viscid string of saliva stretches and breaks between his mouth and your throbbing clit. 

Sukuna laughs, thoroughly entertained. “Maybe she’s tired of you sucking on her g-string like a perv.”

“Is that true?” Gojo asks you, sounding almost wounded as he drags you down towards him across the mattress. You’ve still barely caught your breath, your head spinning in a way you don’t quite like as he drops to his knees on the floor. He positions your hips at the very edge of the bed and hooks your knees over either one of his shoulders, your thighs parting further to accommodate his broad frame.

He doesn’t bother to wait for a response to his own question as his lithe fingers pry your soaking wet underwear down your thighs, and the tell-tale sound of cotton tearing tells you that you won’t be putting them back on again. He tosses the tattered remains towards Choso who catches them in confusion, glancing between the sopping scraps in his hand and the man who had thrown them at him.

“You can play with those while you wait your turn,” Gojo says to him, his voice shifting from the cloying, petulant tone he’d used with you into something low, firm, and warning. He suddenly sounds every bit the young scion you know him to be.

Satoru’s blue eyes flicker back to you, as if to make sure you’re watching, and then he dips down and seals his mouth against your bare pussy.

It’s hot, wet, and overwhelming—a sound not dissimilar to a squeal is torn out of you as Satoru’s tongue moves, messy and relentless, between your legs. You’d almost call his technique uncoordinated if it wasn’t so disastrously effective; pleasure curls tight in your belly with every slick suck against your clit, though it’s a mounting burn like panic.

“Toru, I—ngh, haa—s-slow down please I—“ you’re babbling and you know it, barely coherent as your head swims. Before you can even formulate a complete utterance, each fleeting thought less tangible than the last,  Satoru’s teeth bite down into the flesh of your inner thigh and you shriek.

“So fuckin’ noisy,” Sukuna muses flatly from his chair at the end of the bed. He’s got a front row seat to watching Gojo devour you—and to the angry red imprint of teeth he’s left burning on your thigh—but he stands, shuffling across the room towards the window by your head. You’re too distracted to keep track of his movements as he plucks your panties from Choso’s hand and approaches the bed where you lie defenseless under the ministrations of Gojo’s tongue. 

Sukuna stares down at you for a moment, but you can barely keep your eyes open to meet his gaze.

“Open up,” he says, tapping your cheek with the knuckle of his crooked index finger.

You oblige without thinking, lips parting and tongue pressing forward slightly between them. Without any warning, he stuffs the remnants of your undergarment into your mouth.

The fabric tastes of your slick and Gojo’s spit, sticky and tangy and obscene, and it makes your already dry mouth feel even more desiccated as your moans bleed into the material.

Satoru whines into your cunt, a thoroughly pleased sound at the debauched sight. He grinds shamelessly against the end of his bed as he kneels at the foot of it, his hands holding your hips even firmer against his face as his tongue laps against your twitching hole all the way back up to your clit.

“You gonna cum for him?” Sukuna asks, watching the way your eyes are fighting to stay open, the way your fingers are gripping weakly into the blankets beneath you.

You nod, your mouth stuffed too full for anything else, with tears burning in your bleary eyes.

He smirks. “Give ‘em a good show then, will ya?”

He takes his seat again, knees spread as his hand passes lightly over the half-hard swell of his own cock, ready to watch you fall apart.

Your back bows on a particularly enthusiastic suck against your clit, your thighs clamping down hard over Satoru’s ears. Electricity thrums live through your veins, crackling from one end of your body to the other until you see it spark behind your eyes, and the sound of your desperate voice stops registering in your empty mind as your own as your muffled cries turn rapturous.

“Wow,” you distantly hear Geto—at least you think it’s Suguru’s voice—remark approvingly, watching the way your thighs twitch around his best friend’s neck as your orgasm rips through you.

Your muscles go slack as your clit throbs dully, still victim to Satoru’s insatiable tongue, your legs nearly slipping off his shoulders as your pulse thrums in your ears. Your trembling fingers reach up to fish the panties out of your mouth as you pant desperately for breath.

Satoru’s bed is surprisingly comfortable, you can’t help but notice as you fight to draw in air. It’s way more comfortable than your own standard issue dorm mattress, and you wonder if he’d brought his own to furnish the room on move-in day as you sink back into it. Your eyes are shut, and you feel like you could slip away to the call of sleep if you just—

“That was so pretty, you’re so pretty, god you taste so good,”—Satoru scrambles up, leaving you no time to recover from the sedulous talents of his overactive mouth, pulling his hard cock out of his jeans and shucking them down to mid-thigh hurriedly—“you’re so perfect.”

Your eyes flutter open and down to watch as he runs himself through the mess he’s made, rutting just the underside of his cock against you as precum oozes from his slit. Your breath hitches as you catch sight of him for the first time. 

“Satoru–”

He holds both of your knees together with a single hand, twisting your hips slightly to one side and grinding himself against the wet heat of your pussy, but never sinking inside. You’re not sure you could even take it, he’s so big; anyone else’s dick would look small in comparison to Satoru’s hands, but his is perfectly, terrifyingly proportionate to the rest of him. 

Fortunately for you, he seems content to fuck himself against you like this– or too desperate to do much of anything else—the patch of neatly trimmed white hair at the base of his flushed cock brushing against the back of your thighs on every frantic thrust.

“Your pussy is so soft, so wet,” Satoru prattles on incessantly as he grinds against you, his hips clapping against your ass with every rut, “so good. D’you know that? You know that, right?”

You don’t answer him. Can’t answer him. Struck dumb by the ebbing glow of your orgasm, the sight of his enormous cock, and the THC flooding through your bloodstream. Your silence doesn’t seem to bother him in any case—he seems far more interested in the sound of his own voice than in anything that you might have to say in reply.

Satoru stays vocal as he chases his own pleasure, moaning and praising you blindly as he humps himself between your thighs. It doesn’t take much longer until he cums across your stomach with a blissed out keen that puts every pornstar you’ve ever seen to shame. His hands hold you tight against his twitching hips as he cock kicks and gives one last long splatter of white across your tummy, all the way up to the valley of your ribs.

The room is quiet in the aftermath, save for the steady buzzing of the fan, the music playing from the speaker on Suguru’s desk, and the sound of you and Satoru’s laboured breathing.

But not for long.

“Jeez, do you always have to be so messy?” Geto asks, rising from his place across the room. But there’s no real bite in his comment—and there never is when it comes to Satoru. “You really need to learn to clean up after yourself.”

Gojo grabs your discarded panties from beside you on his bed and swipes them through the cum drying to your skin with a little giggle, barely cleaning you up at all. 

Geto gives him a harmless little knock against the back of his head, but doesn’t truly seem to mind. 

“You know, I really didn’t take you for such an exhibitionist,” he says to you as he pries your limp body up off Satoru’s bed, weak-kneed and unsteady as you may be, and helps you across the room towards his own. 

Suguru leads each of your wobbly steps like a dance—one arm wrapped snugly around your waist, and his other hand clasped around yours as he steers you across the narrow strip of floor between their respective halves of the room. He pulls you down to straddle his lap, your knees sinking into his mattress (not nearly as plush as Satoru’s) on either side of his hips as you bounce lightly on the creaky springs, while he rests with his back against the dorm wall.

“I’m not, Suguru,” you mumble petulantly, fisting his t-shirt as he holds you flush against him. He smells good, even through the stench of the weed clinging to him and you and everything else in the room—like new paper, laundry detergent, and the conditioner you’d bought for him once that he never stopped using—and you nuzzle instinctively into his neck to get closer to the scent. You must be making a mess of his grey sweatpants, but he doesn’t complain.

“Sure, sure,” he says breezily, and you feel the gentle warmth of his hand on your chin as he tilts your face up towards him. 

He kisses you and it’s hungry.

Tongues sliding, mouths parted, teeth nipping at your already sore lips.

Kissing Suguru is nice, you think. It feels familiar even in its foreignness. Welcome even in the head rush. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about it before, even if your relationship has only ever been platonic: in quiet moments in his beloved car, late night study dates in isolated corners of the library, midnight walks across campus to the convenience store to sate an ill-timed craving. His lips had always been tempting, but it’s even better than you may have hoped. 

You lose yourself in it, a little bit—whatever is left of you to be lost, anyway.

You barely notice as his nimble fingers undo the clasp of your bra, easing it away until you’re completely bare against him; too preoccupied to piece together that you’re the only person in the room who isn’t fully clothed. He tilts his face away from you for a moment, leaving you to kitten lick at the corner of his mouth distractingly. 

“Pass me the joint,” he grunts out towards Choso, tossing your bra aside as haplessly as Gojo had discarded the rest of your clothes, and his junior hands the half-burned spliff to him obediently.

“Don’t want any more,” you murmur against Suguru’s cheek, dipping down and tucking your face into the crook of his neck again. 

He laughs, and you feel the sound reverberate through his chest and into yours.

“Just a little bit?” he urges you, an affectionate arm snaking around your waist and squeezing. “For me?”

You shake your head as much as you’re able with your burning face hidden against his throat.

“Here,” he coaxes you out with a gentle knead of his fingers into your thigh, and you find yourself peeking up at him against your better judgement. “You’ll barely even get high from this, it’s just to keep you feeling good.” 

You don’t know if what he says is true, but you let him do it anyway. He takes a long drag from the joint, his serpentine eyes watching you carefully as the cherry flares bright red and angry, and then he seals his mouth over yours and exhales. 

You breathe in the heavy, polluted air from his lungs like a reflex.

“There you go,” he says, drawing back and watching contently as you exhale a little cloud of smoke. It’s fainter than if you’d taken the hit yourself, and burns less in your chest, so you think he must be right. “Easy.” 

Things get fuzzier after that.

Suguru has you on your hands and knees, though you don’t quite know how you got there. Maybe you’d moved yourself, maybe he’d instructed you, or maybe he’d maneuvered your pliant body with the force of his own two hands. But here you are, your face pressed into a pillow that smells of him, his body curving over yours from behind. 

You feel his bare chest against your back, and wonder when he’d taken off his shirt. Wonder if it’s the only thing that’s bare. Suguru mouths at the nape of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Y’know, I’ve been waiting a long time for this,--” he whispers the words so softly that you’re sure only you can hear them. They rattle around through your brain for a moment, incoherent in the buzz. 

Once they finally do register, there’s a part of you—a distant, more sober part, that’s watching things unfold warily—wonders if he means longer than just the time he’d watched Sukuna and Satoru play with you. His fingers trail down your sides, and you shiver. 

“--but it’s okay. I’m patient.”

“Suguru!” you cry out as he slips the head of his cock inside of you without warning. You aren’t ready, even though you’re wet—Gojo hadn’t stretched you out, and Suguru’s fingers, for all their teasing and toying, had never pressed inside.

“God, how’s your pussy so tight?” he hisses through his teeth, the stifling heat of his body fading as he draws himself up to rest on his knees. He has one hand on the small of your back holding you down, while the other is on your ass–spreading you apart so he can see the way he’s pressing into your pussy. 

He’s still barely inside of you, but his hips still as he takes in the way your walls are stretched around him, sucking him in. He takes a moment to collect himself, then glances over his shoulder at Sukuna. 

“You must not actually be fucking her as well as you think you are.”

Sukuna scowls. “Fuck you.”

“Bit busy right now,” Suguru replies, feigning flippancy as he snaps his hips forward harshly, sheathing himself all the way to the hilt. He grinds against your ass as you whimper into his pillow, the sound muffled beyond recognition by the cotton of his pillowcase. “But hit me up later.”

Geto is brutal in the way he fucks you: unyielding, rough. But he touches you tenderly. Praises you gently under his breath after every thrust. It’s almost confusing; his hips at war with his hands, his actions at war with his words.

The initial pain and discomfort subsides quickly, thanks to Suguru’s fingers carefully rolling against your twitching clit. Every time you want to complain, he compensates his cruelty with something so pleasant that the protest dies on your lips. 

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight right now,” Suguru groans, fingers skirting up to pinch at one of your pebbled nipples. You clench down around him instinctively at the sensation. “You want to cum?”

There’s too much saliva in your mouth to answer him properly, too much blood rushing to your head to do anything more than whimper and nod as your fists twist into his blue bed sheets.

“Do you deserve to cum?” Suguru asks, his hips easing to a torturous grind behind you, dragging slow against your fluttering walls. “Gojo already made you cum once, and you didn’t even thank him for it.”

“Suguru, you’re being a bastard again,” Gojo laughs brightly from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him from where your head is pressed into the pillow.

“If you could feel how tight her little pussy just clamped down around me you’d know she likes it,” the man inside you laughs, something mean and manic in the sound. He curves himself over your back again, brushing a bit of your hair away from your face. “You tell Gojo thank you, and I’ll let you cum, how about that?” 

Geto’s fingers wrap themselves around your throat, pulling you upright with a hand cupped under your chin. There’s spit and tears on your face, and you feel them cooling against the breeze of the fan on the other side of the room as you blink against the brightness of the fluorescent light overhead.

You turn your head slightly with Suguru’s help, meeting Gojo’s eye from across the dorm. He’s got a cherry-red lollipop in his mouth now, staining his swollen lips. He’s seated with his legs crossed at the end of his bed, and he’s watching you intently as you peer over at him.

“Thank you, Toru,” you rasp, moaning when Geto’s hand squeezes a little bit tighter around your windpipe.

“For what?” Suguru urges you to continue, lips pressing against your hairline. He gives a slow, tantalizing roll of his hips, and he feels so much deeper at this angle–like he’s pressing right up against the inside of your stomach.

Your eyelids flutter, and you struggle to swallow under his grip.

You meet Gojo’s eager gaze again.

“Thank you for m-making me cum, Satoru.”

Gojo grins ferally around the candy in his mouth, and Geto hums, appeased. Goosebumps prickle across your skin as he presses a kiss to your sticky temple.

“Good girl.”

The hand not loosely cupping your throat snakes down between your legs, orbiting your tacky clit in quick, vicious circles—your reward. 

You cry out, nails scrabbling against his forearm near your throat blindly, your body slackening against the sudden onslaught of pleasure building in your core. Geto strength is the only thing keeping you upright as your body trembles.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let everyone see how pretty you are when you cum on my cock.”

And you do.

You cum so hard under the relentless swipes of Suguru’s fingertips that it almost hurts. Your thighs shake as you come undone, the tightness in the centre of your core snapping like a cord wound up too taut. His hips don’t stop fucking you through your peak, your chest bouncing on every thrust, even as the pangs of overstimulation begin to twist the pleasure into something painful.

You hiccup over a sob. 

“Please, please,” you beg him, watery and desperate, slumping even further forward against his hold. “Suguru, s’too much, I can’t.”

He relents, mercifully—letting go of your throat and wrapping his arms around you from behind, pulling you upright against his chest again and pressing kisses to your neck. His tongue flicks out to taste the perspiration on your aching throat.

“You’re so good to us, aren’t you?” he murmurs into your skin, and you feel yourself nodding as his arms tighten around you.

Choso is still sitting on the floor beside the head of the bed, and his dark doe-eyes blink at you in surprise as your dizzy gazes meet—almost like he’s not anticipating being seen. He’s running his hand along the visible swell of his cock in his black joggers absentmindedly, but his touch is featherlight and barely there. He watches you watch him through a heavy-lidded gaze.

“You’re up, Kamo.” 

Suguru sounds warm, gregarious even, in his invitation, and it takes both of you by surprise. He shuffles away behind you, drawing back and leaving you terribly empty. You whine, falling forward to your elbows and narrowly avoiding landing on your face now that he’s not there to keep you upright.

“Su’gru, wait,” you slur needily, reaching behind you with your hand to grasp blindly where you expect him to be. You wiggle your hips in search of him, and feel your pussy fluttering around nothing.

Suguru’s fingers dance teasingly across your palm and then over your spine, down to your ass. He grips the soft give of muscle and fat, squeezing down into the flesh as laughter bubbles up in his throat.

“Make a bit of room, sweetheart. Choso needs a turn too,”—he gives you another squeeze, this time insistent—“you’ll let him use your pretty mouth, won’t you?”

You hum some sort of agreement.

Choso stands and approaches the bed, watching your expression carefully. He’s intrigued, undeniably, but seems poised to flee at the slightest indication of uncertainty on your part.

“Hi Choso,” you say as you blink up at him, sniffling as you push yourself weakly onto your haunches, your hands resting atop your knees. He’s blushed down to his throat as he dips his head at you in quiet greeting. Your hand reaches up to trail against the prominent outline of his cock below his waistband. “Can I?”

He nods, but it’s hesitant. “If you’re sure.”

Choso lowers himself into the bed, making sure not to jostle you too harshly as he finds his place with a leg on either side of your body, propped against the headboard.

You crawl forward towards his lap, nuzzling against the tent in his joggers and mouthing at the tip until you can taste the salty tang of his precum seeping through the fabric. He brushes some hair back from your eyes as you peek up at him.

His gaze is heavy, like the droop of his eyelids, and this close to him you see just how warm the deep brown of his eyes really is. So dark they almost look black, from this angle you can see the honey that runs behind the stygian surface.

He’s really very handsome in his own strangely delicate way, you can’t help but think.

Your hand creeps slowly below the waistband of his joggers, fingers following the little trail of coarse hair below his navel until you wrap your hand around him. His cock is hot and heavy, and you can feel it give a palpable little twitch as your fingers circle the surprising girth. Gently, you pull him out.

Even Choso’s cock is pretty. Long, curved, with purpled veins that run the length of him all the way to the flushing, leaking tip. He’s so hard. Achingly hard. You can’t believe how lightly he’d been touching himself when you see just how desperately aroused he is.

You dip forward and take the head of him into your mouth, suckling around him. Desperate to give him some sort of relief. Choso hisses in surprise as your lips seal themselves around the flared head, tonguing at the slit—almost like he hadn’t been expecting you to touch him at all.

Your eyes watch him intently, your brow quirking in curiosity.

“S’hot,” he explains, his deep, raspy voice incongruously diffident. “Your mouth is hot, s’all.”

You focus your attention on Choso’s tip for a while, because he seems so sensitive there—little gasps and twitches of his hips giving him away. Your drool drips slowly down to his balls, the waistband of his joggers tucked beneath them catching it, and you use your hand to slowly stroke the slickness back up from the base towards your mouth. 

It sounds messy–it is messy–but no one vocalizes the slightest bit of complaint.

Behind you, Suguru’s fingers dip just barely inside of you–twisting, curling and scissoring before they withdraw and roll slowly over your neglected clit. You’re not as sensitive as you had been, and the sensation is nice but never enough. Your hips cant back unconsciously towards him as you chase his touch for more, and it makes him laugh, but never quite indulge you.

Choso shifts slightly, taking the hem of his t-shirt that’s rucked up over the bottom of his tummy obstructing his view of you and bringing it up to pinch it between his teeth. As he lifts his shirt to expose his skin, he reveals two pink pierced nipples that make you keen in interest. 

You pull yourself off of him with a lewd slurp. 

“Those are pretty,” you say with a breathy sigh as you admire the little piercings, stroking his cock languidly in one hand. It makes a wet shlick shlick sound with every slippery pass. 

Choso lets out a garbled little sound of thanks around the t-shirt in his mouth. You reach up to brush over the metal, curious and experimental, and his thin frame is wracked by a shiver at your gentle touch—the muscles in his abdomen tightening before your eyes.

“Take him in your mouth again, baby. Deep.” Suguru’s voice urges you from over your shoulder, reminding you of the task at hand.

You obey, though you’re a little disappointed to have to tear your attention away from the stainless steel barbells on Choso’s flushing chest.

There’s a bit of discomfort as the fat tip of Choso’s cock squeezes its way past the entrance to your throat, but it’s nothing you can’t handle as you dig your fingertips down into his thighs to ground yourself. He groans, spit soaking into the material of his t-shirt held between his teeth, his eyes so heavy-lidded that they’re barely open as he watches you swallow him down. His cock gives a palpable twitch on your tongue as the pressure of your throat welcomes him in.

You moan around his length at the sensation.

With no warning at all, Suguru presses inside of you again from behind, stretching you open and filling you full full full. You might panic if not for the haze of your mind, but not even that delirious calm can keep you from involuntarily gagging around Choso’s cock as it nestles itself more firmly into the very back of your throat.

“Oh, you tightened up even more,” Suguru says happily, squeezing one of your ass cheeks as he rolls his hips into you, suffocating you even further on Choso’s cock, “do that again.”

You can’t breathe with Choso this deep, especially not with Suguru fucking into you from the other end, forcing any meagre amount of air you do manage to take in through shaky breaths promptly back out through your nose. Your lungs burn. Your jaw aches.

“Gojo, think you can get it up again? There’s a whole other hole going empty back here.” You suddenly feel a hot trail of spit drop against you, and Suguru’s slick fingertip traces teasingly around your rim.

“Ngh—” 

You rip yourself upright, desperate and frightened, saliva flying from your mouth as you cough now that Choso’s cock is no longer carving its way down your esophagus. You push yourself up onto your knees with your hands on Choso’s trembling thighs and instinctively try to crawl towards him, away from the man behind you.

You toss a panicked glance over your shoulder.

“—Suguru, no. I-I don’t like that.” 

It’s the first time you’ve made eye contact with Geto in some time, and definitely the first time you’ve denied him anything. His skin glistens with perspiration, hair slightly messy as it hangs around his shoulders from where half of it has fallen out of his bun at the crown of his head. His eyes are a little wild, but he softens at the sincere look of upset in your tearful gaze–using his grip on your hips to drag you back into his arms.

He presses little kisses across your face, as familiar and comforting as a lover might.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes you, pecking his way along your cheeks to your quivering lips. “You know I’d never do anything you don’t like, right? I’m too crazy about you to ever do that.”

Something twists in your gut that doesn’t feel nice, though you can’t quite put your finger on why.

The song playing in the room trails off, and there’s a few beats of silence before the next kicks in.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

Do you?

You let him kiss you into submission once more, held tight in his embrace.

Geto’s hand finds yours and slowly guides your touch back to Choso’s cock, encouraging you to pump your hand up and down the slick length as he continues to kiss you senseless—he’s moving in time like a rhythm you can’t quite follow, resigning yourself to being swept along with the motions. Suguru’s hand around yours grips Choso so tight, and the boy laying on the bed grunts but doesn’t complain, and you realise that he likes it a bit rougher than you’d been with him.

“You’re not gonna break him,” Geto encourages you, mirthful even in the quiet tone of his voice, and it bolsters your confidence to wrap your hand a little bit tighter around the girth of his throbbing cock of your own volition. Choso moans prettily into the hem of his t-shirt, his hips lifting up off the bed.

“I don’t think poor Choso’s gonna last much longer, are you gonna help him cum?” Suguru murmurs into your mouth, and your foggy gaze slides over to the young man in question, writhing on the bed as Geto grips him even tighter on an upstroke with his hand still clasped over yours.

“Mmmhmm,” you agree, and Geto smiles into one last kiss before pulling away.

You get back down on your hands and knees between Choso’s parted thighs, continuing to stroke him with the same intensity that Geto had set. He’s slick not only with your saliva but the liberal amount of precum beading at his slit now and dribbling down his length, and the bitter taste blooms across your tongue as you lick a long stripe from the base to the top. He whimpers as you press the very tip of your tongue just underneath the sensitive head.

“You gonna cum in her mouth or on her face, Kamo?” Sukuna drawls from his seat across the room, and the reminder that he’s still there—still waiting for his turn—makes your thighs press together as your pussy gives a needy throb. “She looks good both ways.”

Choso finally lets the sopping hem of his t-shirt slip from between his teeth, staring down at you with shiny lips and flushed cheeks as his chest heaves.

“Mouth?” he asks raggedly, forming the request like a question—like he’d let you say no. You smile softly.

You like how sweet Choso is with you. How he treats you like you’re delicate.

You stroke his weeping cock once, twice, three times more, and then wrap your lips around him and swallow him as deep as you possibly can.

Choso cums with a beatific moan, his narrow hips jumping up off the creaky mattress of Suguru’s bed. His hands twist into the sheets beside him like he’s trying not to thread them through your hair and hold you flush against him, and you appreciate the courtesy. Once he paints your mouth white, a few hot spurts slipping down your throat, you pull away and make a show of letting your tongue loll out so he can see what’s left of him clinging to it.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, fighting for breath, and you nod—coy and demure like you don’t have a stomach full of his cum.

He cranes up towards you, pressing his lips to yours gently. You kiss him with his cum still in your mouth, his tongue sweeping forward to taste it off you.

“Damn, you might be nastier than I am, Kamo,” Gojo cheers from the other side of the room in absolute delight.

“Fat fuckin’ chance,” Sukuna snorts. 

Choso kisses you until you can’t feel any more of his spend lingering in your mouth, though the salty, bitter taste still faintly remains. Your fingers creep up under his shirt to brush over the warm metal of the barbells pierced through his skin as the two of you explore each other’s mouths. You pinch down gently and it earns you a little groan of pleasure as the tip of his tongue traces against your palate. You kiss him–lazy and messy and gentle–and it feels so good you momentarily forget you have an audience.

“How sweet.” There’s something condescending about the way Geto coos it, patronising even. “So good to our shy little junior.”

You pull away from Choso—a long strand of saliva stretching and breaking between your kiss bruised mouths, remnants of it landing on your chin. Geto’s poised on his knees at the other end of the bed, watching you with a smile that makes his eyes narrow and curve into half-moons. There’s nothing kind about it.

He runs a hand along his still stiff cock as it stands proudly between his legs.

“I’d say that’s enough now, wouldn’t you?”

Choso pulls himself up out of the bed without complaint, his fingertips grazing your chin as he cleans the spit from it for the second time that afternoon—though this time the mess is his, at least in part, instead of only yours.

Once it’s just the two of you left atop the bed, Suguru flips you over and presses your legs back. He kisses up between the valley of your breasts as he slots himself between your legs, dragging the flared head of his cock between your soft, sticky folds. He’s already made you cum once, but he hasn’t yet reached his limit. 

Part of you wonders if he’s been holding off for this.

“Did you put on a condom?” you ask, the thought appearing suddenly and starkly. You hadn’t thought about it before–hadn’t had the presence of mind to do so–but now it seems the only thought rattling around in your hazy, delirious brain.

“Oh, I forgot,” Suguru says, though he doesn’t sound remotely apologetic as he sucks against your pulse-point. You’re sensitive there, and it makes something flutter in your tummy that threatens to distract you from the topic at hand. “That okay? You’re on birth control, aren’t you?”

You nod, because it’s true in part—the latter part specifically. 

You don’t have time to bring up the former issue before Suguru is fucking himself inside of you again—a thrust so hard you slide a little further up the bed. You gasp at the sudden stretch and claw at his back, your nails dragging against the musculature of his shoulder blades as he fucks you down into his mattress. He bites and tugs at your lips, kissing you meanly, his hips jackhammering as he chases the release he’s denied himself up until this point. 

His dark hair falls completely out of the knot it had only loosely been holding onto, falling in a curtain around both of your faces. For a moment it’s just the two of you. Laboured breaths. Skin on skin.

Suguru swallows your needy mewls with his esurient mouth, drool spilling down your chin with how messily he’s kissing you. 

“Take it, take it,” he rasps, a fissure crackling through his carefully maintained composure as he nears the end of his fraying rope. “Show them all how you were made to take my fucking cock, baby.” 

Your thighs shake where they’re pressed up to your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh behind your knees as he pushes them even higher up. He uses his grip as leverage to swing his hips down even harder against your own, your jaw going slack on a wordless wail.

Suguru watches the way his cock is carving into you for a few thrusts more, and then he snaps–burying his face in the crook of your neck and clamping his teeth down viciously at the juncture where your throat slopes into your shoulder.

Your back bows off the bed and you scream at the exact same moment that Suguru pitches over the edge, your nails clawing down his back blindly as he stuffs you full with rope after rope of hot, sticky cum—fucking you through his peak with lazy, arrhythmic thrusts that grow sloppier with every throb of his spent cock buried inside of you.

You collapse back onto his bed, boneless and aching. You don’t even know what you feel, how you feel. It’s all just a bit too much to sort through in your addled mind, dulled to an incoherent cacophony of sensations all fighting for attention you don’t have the wits to give them. It’s all out of focus, warped beyond comprehension and only partially due to your inebriation.

Suguru slumps on top of you, your chests meeting. You smell his conditioner again. Familiar. Nice. He’s heavy, but you almost welcome it–it distracts you momentarily from the throbbing in your neck.

“C’mon, Suguru, you almost broke her and now you’re gonna squish her too?” Gojo jeers from the other side of the room, and Suguru laughs as he pushes himself up, the tacky skin of your chests peeling away from each other.

You blink up at him tiredly as he holds himself over you, his dark hair hanging in his eyes. His lips quirk, cupping your face in his hand. It’s tender until it’s not, his fingers pressing into the fat of your cheeks until your lips purse.

“She liked it,” he tosses over his shoulder towards his best friend, sitting up on his knees. He brushes his hair back from his face with one hand, and spreads your quaking thighs with the other. He laughs, his thumb tracing the bitemark Satoru had left for you there, watching the way his cum drips out of you as you clench weakly around nothing. “At least this part of her did.”

You reach up to hide your face under your hands, letting out a plaintive little sound as your cheeks burn. You feel the bed shift as Suguru gets up.

“What are you being shy about now?”

You pry your hands off your face and let your heavy eyelids flit open, though it takes a concerted amount of effort, only to see Sukuna standing above you with a brow quirked. He perches himself on the edge of the bed and swipes a warm, calloused hand over your tearstained cheek.

“You look out of it.”

“Kuna,” you murmur weakly, pouting. You’re grateful to see him in spite of his snark, and when you nuzzle your nose into his rough palm he chuckles. There’s something comforting about his presence, though you may be the only person on earth to ever think that.

“Still got one more in you? For me?” he asks, running his thumbnail–painted black though the polish has long begun to chip–along the edge of your bottom lip.

You nod. 

Sukuna kisses you even though you’re messy, crawling over you on Suguru’s rumpled bedspread. He pulls off his t-shirt and kicks his sweatpants and boxers gracelessly off the end of the bed to deal with later. 

Your body feels funny, like it’s yours but not quite. Tangible and yet somehow shapeless—given form only in the way that Sukuna’s hands trace it.

The tip of his cock catches on your puffy, slick hole, and you wince.

“Sensitive,” you murmur against his mouth, wriggling underneath him in discomfort, and he nods because he knows.

It always surprises you how gentle Sukuna is as he eases inside, and this time is no different. Your head spins at the familiar, toe-curling stretch, and he curses lightly as he seats himself balls-deep inside of you.

“Best pussy on campus, I swear,” he groans against your stinging lips, squeezing your tits which he has cupped in each hand appreciatively. 

He pulls out slowly, making sure you feel every curve and ridge of him as he withdraws—like he wants you to feel how empty he’s leaving you before he’s bullying his way back inside of you again. He begins to rut into you in slow, agonizing strokes, all with near impossible accuracy. The pace he fucks you at is deep and unhurried, just like he’s had practice to know you like it.

Sukuna links your fingers together as he presses both of your hands up over your head.

“Feeling good?” Sukuna laughs against your clumsy tongue, seeing the way your eyes are crossed and barely open. 

You nod, beyond the point of saying anything that isn’t his name as your fingers tighten minutely around his own.

“Fuck, you sound sloppy,” he breathes and you whine, your legs squeezing around his waist in warning. He clicks his tongue at your indignant little sound, but he’s still indulgent as he fucks into you–careful and slow. “Y’know I like you like this.”

Sukuna frees his hands from yours so he can pry your legs from their cage around him, pressing them back into the mattress so your knees are butterflied apart. Your fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck as the bed shakes–the rickety old frame rattling as it knocks against the dorm wall when his hips pick up the pace, the rhythm of his thrusts building in speed.

“Gettin’ pretty tight,” he grunts, his voice more strained now than it had been only a moment prior. “You wanna cum?”  

You nod frantically, tears of exertion welling in your eyes.

“Gonna, hnn haa–Kuna, I’m gonna–!“

He hums, understanding your garbled pleas even though they never take shape into anything articulate. He presses down on the bottom of your stomach with one hand, an almost blinding pressure panging in your core. 

“Let go for me then, princess.”

It all goes white.

“Oh fuck, did you guys see that?” 

You fight to gather your bearings as your pulse pounds viciously under your tongue. Your head rolls to the side in Suguru’s bed, a tear dripping down towards your temple, only to see Gojo staring at you in wide-eyed astonishment, his sucker hanging out of his mouth. 

What does he have his phone out for?

The bed is still knocking noisily against the dorm room wall, but it’s surprisingly well in-time with the beat of the music that’s playing. 

It smells like sex, and sweat, and weed.

And everything is so, so wet. 

Your eyes flicker down your body towards Sukuna. It’s slick along the bottom of his tensed abs and both of your thighs; dripping down your skin and seeping into the duvet on Suguru’s bed. 

Oh.

Oh.

You’re not even sure if you properly came or not, but everything is light and heavy at the same time, torturous and divine. Your walls flutter around Sukuna’s cock all the same, and it leaves him stumbling over his words.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his hips slamming down into yours. “So. F-fucking. Messy.”

He yanks you up into his arms, bouncing you on his cock as your arms wind themselves weakly around his neck. You have no strength in your grip, but he holds you tight. The loud lewd slap of skin on skin fills the room as he pummels into you relentlessly.

“Fuck, fuck.” Sukuna thrusts up into you one last time as he cums, holding you down at the same time that he humps against your ass–his hips twitching as his cock gives a heavy throb buried inside of you. You feel hot and almost uncomfortably full; spend drips filthily out of your cunt around the base of his cock, though you can no longer tell what’s his, yours or Geto’s anymore.

It’s a finish befitting the show that you’d promised.

Sukuna sets you down gently, grunting slightly as his flagging cock slips out from the vice of your cunt. He rearranges your legs into a more comfortable position, and with a final affectionate pat on your ass, he stands from the bed.

Gojo whistles appreciatively as you recuperate, tucking his phone back into his pocket and shooting you a wink as your tired eyes flicker over to him. His glossy lips wrap around his lollipop, pushing the candy from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue, as he watches you fight to keep your eyes open.

You lose the battle against your fluttering eyelids quickly, your vision going dark.

“Didn’t know she could squirt,” you hear Suguru say icily—but he sounds far away, like you’re overhearing the conversation from underwater.

Gentle hands ease your aching body up off of the bed, and something soft is wrapped around your shoulders. You burrow into it, eyelids fluttering but never quite lifting, as someone slips into place behind you, propping you up against their warm chest. You rest slack in their hold.

Your eyes peel open to see Sukuna pulling on his shirt on the other side of the room, his shoulder blades flexing as he lifts the tee up and tugs it over his head. He laughs, but it’s not a particularly friendly sound, as his head pops out through the neck hole. He claps a hand on Suguru’s shoulder, who stands beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. The gesture is fraught with tension.

Sukuna shows a sharp, smug flash of teeth. 

“Yeah,” he says, “and she lets me fuck her ass, too.”

The corner of Suguru’s nose twitches like he’s trying not to sneer.

You let your eyes close once more, though if you had the energy you’d be rolling them.

There’s a sudden knock at the boys' dorm room door. 

It’s a single rap. Sharp. Irritated.

They don’t even bother trying to hide the weed, Sukuna—brazen as he is—actually tucks an unlit joint behind his ear as he kicks the towel away and pulls open the door.

“Yeah, what?” he asks the unsuspecting knocker brusquely, leaning indolently against the doorframe on one arm.

A tut of admonishment comes from the other side of Sukuna’s frame, followed by a beleaguered sigh.

“Do you guys mind? Some people in this building are trying to study while you’re in here—”

The familiar voice falters to a stop. 

Sukuna laughs, nudging open the door a little bit wider so that the man on the other side can get a better view at what exactly it is that’s caught his attention.

Nanami’s eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him. You’re only half-conscious sprawled across Suguru's bed, naked save for Choso’s unzipped hoodie wrapped around you. Your head rests against the aforementioned man’s chest as he quietly strokes your side, trying to get you to take a drink from the room temperature bottle of water in his hand– though you’re more preoccupied with playing with his long, elegant fingers wrapped around it.

“Hi Ken,” you giggle weakly as your head lolls in his direction, perking up at his unexpected appearance. 

Choso sets the bottle aside on Geto’s bedside table and holds your waist carefully as you push yourself up, like he doesn’t quite trust the way your limbs wobble underneath you as you shuffle towards the end of the bed near the door. You lean towards the two men in the doorway on your hands and knees, the hoodie on your frame falling open.

Kento swallows, not sure where to look, and the tips of his ears go pink.

You sit back on your haunches, knees parted, and you feel the slow ooze of cum as it drips out onto Suguru’s stained bedspread between your legs. You smile at him dazedly, titling your head to the side so the imprint of Geto’s teeth are on full display on the side of your marked up throat.

“Is it your turn now?”

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #kamo choso x reader #choso #gojo satoru #geto suguru #ryomen sukuna #jjk fic #jjk writing #writing

[quotesfrommyreading]

African countries are being forced to spend billions of dollars a year coping with the effects of the climate crisis, which is diverting potential investment from schools and hospitals and threatens to drive countries into ever deeper poverty.

Dealing with extreme weather is costing close to 6% of GDP in Ethiopia alone, equating to a spend of more than $1 repairing climate damage for every $20 of national income, according to research by the thinktank Power Shift Africa.

The warning comes just before the major new scientific report from the global authority on climate science, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. This report, the second part of the IPCC’s comprehensive summary of global climate science, will set out the consequences of climate breakdown across the world, looking at the floods, droughts, heatwaves and storms that are affecting food systems, water supplies and infrastructure. As global temperatures have risen in recent decades, and as the impact of extreme weather has become more apparent around the world, efforts to make infrastructure and communities more resilient have largely stalled.

Africa will be one of the worst-hit regions, despite having done least to cause the climate crisis. According to the Power Shift Africa study, titled Adapt or Die: An analysis of African climate adaptation strategies, African countries will spend an average of 4% of GDP on adapting to climate breakdown.

These countries include some of the world’s poorest people, whose responsibility for greenhouse gas emissions is many times less than those of people in developed countries, or in large emerging economies such as China. Sierra Leone will have to spend $90m a year on adapting to the climate crisis, though its citizens are responsible for about 0.2 tonnes of carbon dioxide emissions a year each, while US citizens generate about 80 times more.

Mohamed Adow, director of Power Shift Africa, said: “This report shows the deep injustice of the climate emergency. Some of the poorest countries in the world are having to use scarce resources to adapt to a crisis not of their making. Despite only having tiny carbon footprints compared with those of the rich world, these African countries are suffering from droughts, storms and floods which are putting already stretched public finances under strain and limiting their ability to tackle other problems.”

He called for more funding from developed countries, which promised at the Cop26 UN climate summit to double the money available to help poor countries adapt to the climate crisis. Rich countries promised in 2009 to provide $100bn a year to help poor countries cut their greenhouse gas emissions and cope with the effects of climate breakdown. But so far they have fallen short of that target, and most of the funds that have been provided have gone to projects to cut emissions, such as windfarms and solar panels, rather than efforts to help countries adapt.

The study examined national adaptation plans submitted to the UN by seven African countries: Ethiopia, Kenya, Liberia, Sierra Leone, South Africa, South Sudan and Togo. South Sudan, which is the world’s second poorest country, was hit by floods last year that displaced 850,000 people, and led to outbreaks of water-borne diseases. The country is to spend $376m a year on adaptation, about 3.1% of its GDP.

Chukwumerije Okereke, director of the centre for climate change and development at the Alex Ekwueme Federal University in Nigeria, said rich countries must respond to the findings, and to the IPCC report.

“It is both irresponsible and immoral for those that are the chief cause of climate change to look on while Africa, which has contributed next to nothing to climate change, continues to bear a disproportionate share of the impact,” he said. “The time for warm words is long gone. We need urgent, scaled-up, long-term support from the world-leading climate polluters.”

  —  African countries spending billions to cope with climate crisis

#fiona harvey #current events #climate change #global warming #climate justice #economics #international relations #poverty #ethiopia #sierra leone #kenya #liberia #south africa #south sudan #togo #mohammed adow #chukwumerije okereke

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Mm, Daddy Daddy

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: Being a student is hard. For your Master's degree, you have to contend with classes, labs, and assignments in addition to feeding yourself. You're treading water coming into the end of the Spring Semester when your roommate tells you she is breaking her portion of your lease and moving in with her new fiancé. You're left at wit's end and you're not sure how you'll make ends meet. Until, that is, a friend and colleague suggests a website called icanbeyourbaby.com. You're not sure what you'll find there, but Jake Seresin is not it. He's everything you've ever dreamed of and more. But can you keep him despite the contract the website insists you draw up? Will this ever be more than a short-term business arrangement? You hope so. Disclaimer: Female Reader, Slight BDSM, Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby Relationship. This is also very clearly an AU! In this universe, Jake is a high flying, jet-setting lawyer, a very successful one. This is a story completely full of adult elements. It is for adults 18+ only. Minors Do Not Interact. Warnings: Reader gets paid for her companionship. This is a Sugar Daddy/ Sugar Baby agreement, after all. Word Count: 4354 Author Note: Hello, hello all you beautiful people! I'm insatiable and you only have @desert-fern to blame for putting this thought in my head. Fern, this one is for you! I hope you'll find yourself a Jake to entice you into studying and call you 'His Good Girl'! 🥰 😘 Also, the real ones know. The title for this fic comes from Sam Smith & Kim Petras - Unholy.

AO3: Cross-posted here! Wattpad: Cross-posted here! Anthology Masterlist My Masterlist

College sucks. You love learning, and you love being surrounded by so many different, amazingly talented people. What sucks is how expensive it is. Even with a scholarship, a roommate, and not one, but two full time jobs, you're just barely making ends meet. You've just gotten out of a double shift from hell when you walk into your apartment to see that Joanna, your roommate, has her boyfriend over. They're making out on the couch, and while you'd love to ignore them, you need to make yourself dinner and then write a ten page treatise on the effects of pollution on bivalves due tomorrow during your last class for your final grade.

Just as you're pulling your last Cup Noodles out of the microwave, making a mental note to buy more tomorrow, Joanna speaks up.

"Hey, Blue." She sounds nervous for some reason. "I'm glad I caught you before you headed to your room for the night."

"Hey, Jo!" You sound about as tired as you look. "What's up?"

"Well…. Austinproposedtomeandisaidyes." Her last words are too fast for your already stressed brain.

"One more time, Jo? Slowly?" You point to your head. "My brain's kinda fried and I didn't get any of that."

"I said, Austin proposed to me and I said yes." She's proffering her left hand out to you and you can't help your own squeal of glee as you examine the ring and congratulate her.

"Umm, you're the sweetest, you know that, Blue?" Why does she sound so sad when she’s telling you such nice things? "I hate to do this to you, but, um. Well, I'm moving in with Austin this weekend. Our landlady is letting me break my part of the lease, so the place is all yours."

You just congratulate her again, and watch as she and Austin retreat to her bedroom. When the apartment is quiet again, you begin to think. You dimly note how the fork in your hands goes clattering onto the countertop as you try to mentally catalog how many extra shifts you'll need to take to make your next month's rent payment and pay for classes at the same time. But no matter how you do the math, it doesn't add up. You'd need to work more hours than there are in the day and you still wouldn't have enough money. 

It's a conundrum that continues to churn away in the back of your mind as you slurp down the cold noodles and finish writing your paper. You'll need another roommate, at the very least. But summer break has already begun, and you're not likely to find one. Los Angeles is expensive. You mull it over for weeks, even after Joanna moves out. It's your lab partner at the Marine Institute, a girl named Samantha, who suggests an unlikely idea which might just be the most likely solution.

"Create a profile on this site: icanbeyourbaby.com. It's a sugar daddy/sugar baby site. It's full of older men looking for companionship. I started it a couple of months ago and I don't have to worry about anything anymore." It's true. Sammie doesn't look stressed or tired anymore. Her clothes are all new. You thought she'd just gotten a great job, which is why you'd asked if her boss was hiring. You'd never have expected Sammie with her neon pink and yellow hair, piercings and tattoos to be a sugar baby.

You turn the thought over and over in your head, trying to puzzle another way out of your situation without going into prostitution or living in the campus library out of a duffle bag for the rest of the year. When nothing else comes to mind, you fill out a profile on icanbeyourbaby. You stay as true to yourself as you can, feeling heat in your face and ears at the extremely in depth questions about sexual experience and kinks. Finally, you add a selfie taken recently at a friend's birthday party and hit submit. The congratulations screen is so cheery that you almost immediately want to slam your laptop lid down and curl up under your blankets. 

But you don't, because right as you try to, huge cheesy letters spell out "Congratulations, you got a match!" You're then routed into a chat window. You've been matched with a user called longhornlover, and when you click onto his profile, your jaw nearly drops out of its socket. 

His name, when you read through the details, is Jake Seresin. He's a lawyer working for a law firm downtown. He's just turned 34, and you can't quote this enough, he "needs a pretty girl on his arm for galas, dinners and parties, who is intelligent and able to keep up a conversation". Is this guy for real? At least the age gap isn't too bad. He's only 11 years older than you. Money is apparently no object and when you've flipped back to the open chat window, he's already messaged you asking you to meet him for coffee. 

You can't be blamed for saying yes, right? It's way too easy to sink into chatting with Jake on the app. He's more attentive than every man you've ever spoken to and he gives you butterflies every time he messages you good morning.

The day of your first date, you wear your best dress and walk out of your building, prepared to walk to the bus stop in order to make it to your date on time. You're definitely not expecting the shining blue Porsche idling on the street or the six-foot tall man leaning elegantly against the door. Jake's even more gorgeous in person. 

You stammer all over yourself as you greet him and then allow him to help you into the car, and whisk you away. He takes you to a little coffee shop outside of the city. The hostess leads you to a secluded booth and hands you a menu that is a leather bound book with no prices anywhere on the pages. It's quiet as you order an iced coffee and hand the menu back over.

"So, Blue, can I call you that?" At your nod, he continues, "Why did you sign up? What made you consider being a sugar baby?"

"Oh, I, um. My roommate just moved out, I'm working two jobs and I don't know if I'll be able to make rent, my school fees or be able to feed myself now that she's not going to be able to split rent with me." Your voice is quiet, ashamed. You're asking a stranger for money, practically.

"You're in school, your profile said. What are you studying?" He glosses over your shame so easily. Rich people really do have different cares from ordinary people like you.

"I'm at University of Southern California - Los Angeles getting my Masters in Marine Biology and Biological Oceanography." At his inquiring glance you continue, elaborating on the program a little bit. You finish up just as your waitress drops off your coffee, twirling her manicured nails in her hair as she smiles fetchingly at Jake. It's very satisfying to see how he doesn't respond to her at all.

"Thank you for telling me about yourself." He takes a sip of his coffee. "So what are you hoping to get out of this arrangement?"

This is the question you've been asking yourself non-stop for the past few days.

"I'd like to not have to worry about whether I'll be able to eat if I pay my rent and tuition. Or if I'll be able to sleep at night if I work and still have assignments I need to complete." You sip on your coffee, praying that all of your nervous sweating hasn't exposed the raccoon circles permanently tattooed under your eyes. "W-what do you want out of this?"

"I want you to be healthy and happy. And, when I have a company party or event to attend, I want you on my arm, smiling and being just as gorgeous as you are right now." His voice is so soft that the butterflies swarm up your esophagus.

"I can do that. Um, what about, um, sex things?" Your voice drops down to a whisper as you say the last words, sinking into your chair while furtively glancing around to see if anyone heard you.

"That's all up to you. I'd love to be able to call you my girlfriend and lavish a bunch of affection on you, including making you feel good. If that's something you're not comfortable with, then let me know." Jake's green eyes are glimmering with amusement as you stutter out your agreement.

Your eyes go even wider when he fishes an iPad out of his briefcase and pulls out a contract. He goes over every inch of it with you, making changes based on your comfort level, and then you both sign. That's how you became a sugar baby.

At the beginning it was all new and exciting. Jake deposited a quarter of a million dollars into your bank account the next morning, calling it your quarterly allowance. A part of you still doesn't believe that he's real. In the six months since that day, you've gone to no fewer than five parties, dressed to the nines in designer gowns with diamonds dripping off of your fingers, throat and wrists and been swanned around as Jake Seresin's girlfriend.

You love the kisses and possessive grip he has on your waist at those events. But you're at the point in your relationship, and it is a relationship - Jake had shredded the contract months ago, where you want more. You want the sleepovers at his penthouse downtown. You want him to call you his Good Girl and mean it as you bounce on his cock. So you take matters into your own hands. One Friday afternoon you let yourself into his penthouse, glad that at least you have the keys and don't need permission to do so. You set your bookbag down on the leather ottoman in the living room and pad into his bedroom. 

Jake's bedroom is your favorite place in the entire apartment. It's all pale wood and glass. His bed sits against the sole wall, a plush pillowy California King that you love taking naps in. You walk into the gigantic walk-in closet and pull out one of his button-down shirts, a pale cream one that you love seeing on his golden skin. The fabric is rich and silky and most importantly, ever so slightly transparent. You strip off all of your clothes and swathe yourself in the silky shirt. The cool fabric has your nipples turning into firm points and as you look at yourself in the mirror, you know Jake's going to love seeing you in his clothes, too. 

Then comes the next part of your plan. You settle down on the sofa with a throw over your lap and begin to study. Even though you have seduction on your mind, it's still finals season. Now, you wait. You're completely immersed in your Marine Law class when you hear the door open and Jake walks through the door. He's got a bag of groceries in one hand and his briefcase in the other.

"Hi, doll!" He sounds exhausted. 

"Hi, Jake!" Your voice is soft as you wave at him from your blanket burrito on the couch.

"How was your day, baby?" He sounds exhausted. You answer him from the couch, barely noticing him until you feel a kiss press against the side of your head. It's Jake, now dressed in just a pair of sweats with damp hair.

"When did you shower?" You can't help the confusion in your voice as you rub at your eyes from behind the frames of your glasses.

"Twenty minutes ago, baby." You can feel the amusement in his voice. "What're you so immersed in, huh?"

"Marine law." You keep scanning the slides in front of you, ignoring how his hands are tracing across your shoulders.

"Y'know, baby doll, I am a lawyer. So you can ask me for help if you want?" You can feel your resolve flagging as he sets your laptop down, unwraps you slowly from the throw, and tugs you into his lap. His hands trail teasingly over the bar expanse of your thighs, pausing at the junction of your hips, caressing the soft bare skin there.

"What do we have here, Baby Blue?" His voice is deep and velvety as he rucks the shirt up a little, knuckles firm against your bare stomach. 

"W-wanted to wear your shirt, Daddy." You can hear the rumble of his voice as he groans, trailing his fingers over your peaked nipples and back down to the apex of your thighs.

"And the rest of your clothes?" He's got a firm grip on each thigh, tugging them apart until your bare pussy is completely exposed.

"I-I took 'em off. Just wanted to be surrounded by your scent, Daddy." Your voice is a mewl as Jake massages teasingly over your clit, the barely there touches sending even more heat coiling through your veins.

"And you decided to be my good girl and study while you waited for Daddy to come home?" His calloused fingers pluck at your nipples with each word.

"Y-yes." Your chest is heaving, your mind going fuzzy and blank as Jake's - no - Daddy's hands rob you of all thought.

"You've been such a good girl, baby doll. D'you want your reward?" The fondness in Daddy's voice has you writhing as his hands open your tight walls up for him.

"Yes please, Daddy! Please!" He lifts you up with one thick forearm before working the sweats down to his knees. Now, you can feel Daddy's cock as it glides over your weeping hole as you wriggle in his lap.

"Come sit on this cock, Blue, baby." He punctuates the order with kisses that steal the breath from your lungs. You love when Daddy kisses you like this. You tug the constricting button down off, and carefully sink down onto his hard length. Daddy's cock is so big and thick that it nearly splits you apart. Each inch has your mouth open in a silent scream, and when he bottoms out, you're sweaty and exhausted. Your skin feels too tight and electric shocks are zipping across every inch that he touches. 

Daddy takes pity on you, letting you quiet on his cock, feeling how your walls clench around his length as you settle back against his chest.

"God, look at you, baby Blue. So pretty, my good girl, impaled on Daddy's cock like that." Daddy's big hands cup your tits, and you shudder before melting further into his arms. After several moments, he leans forward, tugging your laptop back onto your lap. "Gotta make sure my good girl is comfy. That she knows daddy is here for her always. Now, you sit here and study. If you're good, I'll fuck you until you scream later."

You're already so wet and aching for Daddy, that it'll be sweet torture to spend so long impaled on his length. His cock is pressing up against all the parts that make you see stars. But you're Daddy's good girl. So you do what he says. The first few pages, you're completely distracted, wriggling around in Daddy's lap, wanting more stimulation. But eventually you fall into a flow state, Daddy's presence comforting. 

You lose time. You must, because it's dark when the laptop closes and Daddy peppers kisses across your exposed shoulders. You're still impaled on his length, each thick inch pressing against your walls in the perfect way. You're slow to respond to the teasing caresses, nuzzling against the palm of Daddy's hand sweetly.

"Aww, baby Blue. You're so good for me, doll." Daddy's voice sounds so fond and it makes a small part of you light up. His praise and gentle words make you feel even better than his cock buried in you. When he lifts you off of his length, you sob at the empty feeling, weeping cunt clenching on nothing where it had once been wrapped around Daddy.

Before you can blink, you're splayed out on your back on Daddy's comfy leather sofa. He's crouched between your legs, gazing raptly at your heat as he pets across your hips and lower belly in slow soothing strokes. 

"D-daddy?" Your voice is tiny, as you try to swivel and nudge your hips closer to him.

"Yeah, baby doll?" Daddy punctuates his words with kisses against your inner thighs and your mound. Your mind whites out a bit at the pressure as he flattens his tongue over your fluttering, wet slit. His voice is smug as he continues, "D'you want something from Daddy, baby?"

You don't get the chance to respond, though. Between one breath and the next, you're being treated like a steak dinner placed before a starving man. Daddy feels like he's everywhere. His mouth and fingers devour you whole. Your entire body feels like a live wire, warring sensations dancing like electric currents across your skin as the band in your gut winds tighter and tighter. It feels like you're on a tightrope, dangling over a cliff.

Each heaving breath feels like too much and yet not enough oxygen is entering your lungs. You're begging and babbling, tugging on Daddy's hair in graceless sweeping motions as your mind forgets how to move or do anything than be at Daddy's pleasure. It's when Daddy growls against your cunt that you cum, screaming his name as your muscles lock with the force of your orgasm.

When you come back to yourself, it's on the cool satin sheets of Daddy's big bed. You feel wrung out and exhausted, mind floaty even as your limbs struggle to cooperate. You've just managed to sit up when Daddy wanders in, holding a condensation covered glass in his big hand. You make grabby hands for him, smiling as he drags you against his chest as you sip on the cool juice in the glass. 

"How are you feeling, baby?" You nuzzle in closer, sleepily peppering kisses across his chest. 

"Feel good, Daddy. Y'always make me feel good." The kiss Daddy presses against your lips consumes you body and soul. It takes several moments before you collect your frayed strands of thought.

"B-but, what about you, daddy? Did you cum?" Your voice is soft as you take his length in your hand.

"No, Blue, baby." His breathing hitches with each pass of your hand as you work his length in your fist. "But you don't have ta'...... Ahh!"

Each stuttering breath makes your smile just a little wider. Daddy's so pretty, his tawny mane of hair spread out against the pillow as a flush spreads across his chest. His big hand is curled around your bare hip as you slowly pump his length. 

"Doll, are you just going to tease me all night?" His voice is so fond as he tugs you close.

"No, Daddy." You melt into his chest as he kisses you. Each long slow slide of his tongue plundering your mouth has you pressing yourself closer. You kiss your daddy slowly, losing yourself to the touch.

"D'you want something baby?" There are big hands on your hips, stalling every movement as you try and fail to search for friction.

"Blue!" He's laughing now, peppering kisses across your pouting face as you fight to eke some pleasure out for yourself. But no matter what you do, you don't move.

"What're you searching for, huh, baby?" You growl as a result, stilling your hips as you suck kisses down his throat. You relish in the moans pouring out of Daddy's throat, brattily ignoring the teasing path of his hands across your lower stomach and breasts.

It's the sharp sting of a hand on your ass that has you squeaking and your mouth parting from the hickey you'd been leaving on Daddy's neck.

"Oh, baby. Did that sting?" As Daddy's big hands rub over your aching ass, you arch your back and try to nuzzle closer. But all that does is bring your bare skin closer to his mouth. The first wet press of his tongue to your peaked nipples has you moaning. You're so occupied by the dual sensations of the hands kneading your ass and the wet insistent suction of Daddy's mouth on your tits that you barely notice the pinching insistent pressure as Daddy's dick presses into you.

When Daddy finally bottoms out, you're already a drooling mess. This sugar baby arrangement is the best decision you've ever made. Daddy's a million times better than your first fumbling sexual experience in your prom date's pickup. His thick hard length in you has your pussy fluttering and already has you on the edge of an orgasm. When you're tipped onto your back in the sheets and Daddy starts to move, you're completely at his mercy.

Each thrust has you taking Daddy from root to tip. The entire room is filled with the lewd slapping of sweat-slippery skin against skin. Your breaths are punched out gasps as Daddy draws your legs up to his shoulders, holding them securely against his chest with one thick forearm as the other presses insistently against your engorged clit. Each brush of his calloused fingers coats them in your wetness and tips you even further towards your orgasm. You're babbling, hardly able to keep eye contact with the piercing, intent gaze Daddy's leveling on your sweat slicked skin. You cum with a scream, back arching off the bed.

"Aww, Blue, baby. Look at you! Fucked dumb on Daddy's thick hard cock." Daddy sets your legs back down as he pulls out of you and turns you so your back is pressed against his chest.

"You're going to be good, right Baby?" You're grinding your ass back against Daddy's ass unconsciously even as Daddy wraps a hand around your throat. You love having Daddy all over you like this. Even though you just came, you can't help wanting more. He uses the extra leverage to kiss your slack mouth until a thread of saliva stretches between your mouths.

"Daddy's gonna fuck your wet little pussy just like this with a hand around this little throat until you gush for me." His voice slows to a hiss as he teasingly runs his finger through your sensitive folds. "And you, baby. You're going to tell your daddy exactly how good he feels in that pretty little pussy."

You're nodding frantically, but that's not enough for Daddy. He smacks your pussy, tapping it until you're writhing against the steel hold he's got around your waist.

"Y-yes, Daddy! Yes! I can do that!" Your voice is a high pitched keen as you sob your relief at having Daddy buried inside you again.

He starts off slow, keeping the pace teasing as he pulls out of you until just the tip is sheathed and burying himself in you over and over again. Your hands are grasping onto his arms with all your strength, as you let Daddy chase his pleasure in you. His hand is firm against your throat, the pressure making you lightheaded and the sensations setting your blood aflame. With each slap of his hips against your ass you're telling him how good he feels. He's so big and thick you can't help it.

"Blue, baby." Daddy's voice is a purring growl which has your pussy dripping even wetter as your third orgasm builds. This one is going to be even harder than the last one. His hands pinch and tug at the heavy swell of your tits as they bounce with each thrust. "Cum for me, pretty baby. C'mon. You can do it. Cum for daddy."

"Yes, Daddy. Right there! M'so close. Wanna cum on your cock. Please. Please. Please. Please." You're still babbling for permission when Daddy's hands slide down to your clit and massage on the bud in time with his thrusts. When you come, it feels like you've been struck by lightning. You see stars behind your eyes as your orgasm builds and crests, seeming to never end. You vacantly feel Daddy empty himself in your sopping cunt, but that's it.

When you wake up, it's in the big bathtub in the master ensuite. There are hands carefully massaging shampoo into your hair and the water is steaming in the quiet night air. There's a deep relaxation weighing your muscles and bones as you blink yourself awake.

"Hey, Blue. How d'you feel?" It's Dadd- no, Jake, who's making you feel good.

"I feel so good, Jake." You kiss his wrist before turning so you can kiss him. He hefts you into his arms, not caring in the slightest that you're dripping soap and water all over his floor.

"You're back up, huh, baby?" At your nod, he kisses you before continuing. "I know you told me you've never been so far down before. And it definitely wasn't discussed. Was that okay, for you?" He sounds so worried as he sits on the tile with you dripping all over him.

"I'm perfect, Jakey. Perfect. It was everything I needed and more. If you liked it, I'd love to be your Baby Blue again?" You hope he'll agree. You love being Daddy's baby and brat.

"Absolutely, you can. But for the rest of tonight, how about we curl up on the sofa? I made some pasta and garlic bread." He grins at your nod before joining you in the tub again. This? You wouldn't give this up for anything in the world.

"Hey, Blue?" He sounds sated and sleepy.

"Yeah, Jake?" You cuddle closer to him and kiss his skin.

"Move in with me?" He sounds nervous. Like you’d reject him? After everything you’ve built a relationship with him? Not possible. You can’t believe what he’s asking you. You can’t even pretend to think about it. Your mouth runs away before your brain even processes the words screaming,  "YES!" while you kiss him until he’s breathless again. This man? You’re going to keep him forever.

Taglist:

@desert-fern 🥰 @mayhemmanaged 🥰 @cassiemitchell 🥰 @thedroneranger 🥰 @cherrycola27 🥰 @roosterforme 🥰 @roostette 🥰 @dakotakazansky 🥰 @bobby-r2d2-floyd 🥰 @sarahsmi13s 🥰 @lovinglyeternal 🥰 @lovingbradshawafterdark 🥰 @mamaskillerqueen 🥰 @chaoticassidy 🥰 @genius2050 🥰

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun smut #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman imagine #hangman smut #reader insert #smut #Spotify

[blnk338]

COD Headcanons!!

Pt 2 b/c you guys loved these sm

Relationship hcs!!

Price:

Good chef, GREAT at bbq

Taps his phone screen too hard and squints at it

Googled “Pegging” because Soap told him to

Regrets it dearly

“I’m just going to rest my eyes” and falls into comatose for 8-10 years

Was the best man at Laswell’s wedding and still cries today thinking about it

Does the dad-sneeze thing

Supporter of small businesses

Vanilla > chocolate ice cream will get into a heated argument over this

Will put on a 19th-century oil tycoon accent when asking questions about technology to make light of the situation

This started when he didn’t know how to change the wallpaper on his iPhone

Laswell does an incredible impression of his impression

Crazy emetophobia

HOLIDAY DAD! Absolutely shite with gifts but will wake up at 3 am to set up everything and give you a good holiday

Very comfortable in his masculinity from raising two daughters, made sure to teach himself how to raise them to be smart and safe, and actively does his best to keep himself in check and support the women in his life

Ultimate straight ally

His oldest, 15, made him and her little sister go to pride and he voluntarily wore a shirt that said “free dad hugs”

Gaz:

Got Price to say “Girl trust you will be dealt with” and had to get Soap to punch him so he could breathe again

Fluent in French!

Bisexual w/ a preference for women

Needs two triple-shot espressos every morning

Hates oat milk; thinks it's grainy

Is lactose intolerant though

But he’s not the shit-your-brains-out lactose intolerant, he’s the wallow-in-pain-on-the-bathroom-floor-for-eighty-minutes lactose intolerant

Turkey hater. Not the animal, the food. Thinks it’s dry and flavorless

Okayish cook, phenomenal baker.

Will leave baked goods in the sergeant's/lieutenant's and captain's offices/breakrooms and act surprised when he sees the plate of freshly baked brownies

Tried smoking weed, hated it.

Middle child of an older sister and a younger brother

Didn’t like The Office

Soap:

Can make balloon animals out of anything balloon-like (condoms included)

Has a TikTok, makes TikTok references

Loves cats and dogs equally, but had only dogs growing up so he’s not really sure how to deal with cats

In a constant state of "trying his best"

Dick stick-n-poke tattoo on his calf

30-minute night routine

Double exfoliates

Disgusted at Ghost’s hygiene

Loves the holidays; this man goes fucking insane for Christmas lights and his house is the biggest source of light pollution in the entirety of the UK

RELIGIOUSLY a supporter of small businesses. Loves little family-run stores and buys local produce/groceries all the time

Highlighter kid in grade school

Blamed a fart on Gaz and asked him if he was feeling “Gazzy” (Garrick smacked the shit out of him)

Makes gagging noises over comms to fuck with Price

Knows what kinning is, kins Rainbow Dash

ADHD

Coffee does the opposite for him; he’ll be bouncing off the walls and you’ll hand him a double shot espresso and he’s calm as all fuck

GREAT AT READING SOCIAL CUES THOUGH

Really knows how to read body language and will step back if anyone gets uncomfortable

Youngest of 3 brothers and one older sister (she’s second to oldest amongst his siblings)

König:

Will literally sit at home in full tactical gear

Chess master

Loves horror movies but gets super scared

Likes Scrabble

Bug kid!!!!!

Hates birds. No one knows why.

Doesn’t drink, prefers virgin versions of alcohol

Drunk König is a sad König

Wore headgear because of his teeth when he was in middle school

Favorite color is yellow but does love green!

Will accidentally man-handle people because he forgets his strength

Always so terribly sorry about it

Ghost:

Has had his license revoked an uncountable number of times (currently does not have a license)

Drives

No rizz

Horrifyingly good aim with anything and everything. Will chuck trash across the house and somehow land it in the bin

Will lean his head down slightly if someone he respects (and is shorter than him) is talking

One of those dog people that’s like “I fucking hate cats.” And then you find them napping together, and he’s carrying the cat in the hood of his jacket, and he sneaking them treats, and he’s talking to them in a baby voice…

Wins staring contests, always

Knows his staring is bad, but doesn’t really do anything to change it

Speaking of which, he’s got a horrible German stare (google it)

Spaces out and sways side to side slightly, unaware that he’s been glaring lasers into an unsuspecting private for like a solid forty seconds.

Doesn’t know what kinning is but would kin Winter Soldier / Bucky Barnes

Likes sensory toys but will never buy one because he thinks they’re too obvious.

Really wants a sensory slug

Definitely the jealous type but will not say a single fucking word

Soft spot for animals and young children

Likes drinking for a buzz, but will easily stop himself. He doesn’t like being unaware of his surroundings

Edibles > mass amounts of alcohol

Little fidgeting -> rubbing his thumb across the side of his index finger, squeezing his hands, twitching his feet but not enough to tap them, playing with the hems of stuff

Mirrors in his house are covered/removed

Wants a pet but won’t get one because he doesn’t like the idea of something relying on him, only to abandon them or discard them. He’s away for work often so it’s not like they would be taken care of

Doesn’t actively seek partners because he doesn’t think he’s worth it

Behind the confident, stoic attitude, he’s a man who doesn’t value himself and therefore, if he does have feelings for anyone, doesn’t put in the effort to pursue them or he tries to kill the warm feelings in him.

Better to be alone than to hurt someone he cares about

Graves:

Screams at Football (US) games

Thinks he can out-grill Price; cannot.

Lost his kids in the divorce

Thinks no-sock loafers are the way to go

Doesn’t wear socks that much, actually

Can’t handle spice

Mint n’ chip ice cream kinda guy

Fav beer is Natty Lit

Likes egg salad

Dog guy

Divorced twice, btw

“But if the roles were reversed…”

Doesn’t have a problem with climate change, and thinks that the weather is getting nicer so, if anything, the climate is just getting better

Uses Crest toothpaste

Left-handed and makes a big deal out of it

Gets really up in the ass about calling soccer “football” (not ironically)

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #soap mactavish #call of duty #phillip graves #konig mw2 #konig #mwf2 headcanons #headcanon #cod headcanons #yes these all apply to Reap What You Sow #rwys ff #rwys #rwys könig #rwys soap #rwys price #rwys ghost #rwys gaz #rwys graves

[redmyeyes]

Pretend

Hawk left the election-night party hungry for brown doe eyes and a wide smile with milk-stained lips.

For a moment, when he had brushed past the boy on his way out, Hawk had been sorely tempted. A single nod, and the boy would've followed him out, Hawk was sure of it. They had locked eyes when Hawk was at the door, and the look of unabashed hope on the boy's face had Hawk nearly breaking every rule he'd laid down for himself. First and foremost, never fuck around in the political circles. Or, as they said in the war, don't shit where you eat. Still. He could've had the boy on his knees right this second. Or pressed against a wall. On all fours… He seemed so young. Hawk might have been his first. What an intoxicating thought. To ruin a boy so innocent.

The boy in the bathhouse, from a distance, had the right look about him. Young, and with his cap pulled low, his ears stuck out a bit, almost like— his. Close up, the illusion faded. Face too pimpled, eyes not nearly as luminous, hair too curly, not the adorable mop of straight brown he wanted. Still, when Hawk gripped his jaw and plundered his mouth, he could almost pretend the the boy's moans were from someone else.

Skippy. The name came to him out of nowhere, memory of the boy toasting him with a full glass of milk playing on repeat in his head. Those wide glasses, the milk, the oversized tweed jacket and bowtie. The boy could've been all of twelve years old except for the way he'd looked at Hawk with such playful heat in his eyes. Christ, the way he'd doubled down on that glass of milk when Hawk had given him an incredulous look. That stubbornness. Flirting, without saying a word. And the way he'd basked in Hawk's attention, like he was lit up from inside.

"Your place. Now," he growled into the substitute's mouth. He could pretend, for a little while.

It was too easy to get the kid to take him home. Hawk wanted more of a dance. He wanted protests of, I could never, maybe demands that he be taken to dinner first. As if that were the way of things. Still, the kid was willing, and he got out of his clothes fast, and soon enough Hawk was thrusting into him from behind, as the kid gripped the bedposts.

His Skippy would be tight, not prepared in advance like this grifter. Hawk would have to prep him slow. He'd keep the boy on edge for hours as he worked him open. He'd look at Hawk with those big, wet eyes and beg and beg and beg and Hawk would finally relent, pushing inside so slow as Skippy clawed at his back, his back arching, his eyes clenching shut and Hawk would pause until those eyes opened again, whisper, look at me, keep looking, and he would hold him close, keep grinding in and in and in, breathing each other's air open-mouthed until the boy was moaning and clenching and shuddering and—

Hawk slammed home one last time as he shuddered through his own release, then pushed the kid off him and onto the bed. He was pretty sure the kid had come. He didn't much care.

Hawk sat on the edge of the bed and fished out a cigarette as the kid cleaned up behind him. Outside, the world was dark and silent. Skippy would probably be asleep by now, if he wasn't still at the party. He probably said his prayers like a good Christian boy before he went to bed. Hawk wondered if his face had crossed the boy's mind tonight as he lay there trying for sleep. If he'd touched himself, imagining what could have been.

Hawk took a puff of his cigarette and blew out acrid smoke. Stupid to think about. Fuck, the high always faded so damn fast.

Behind him, the kid started yammering, and Hawk pulled on his clothes, eager to make an exit. Better to forget. Better, always, to forget. To move on as quickly as possible. That was how you survived in this world.

Still, as Hawk shrugged on his jacket and made his way down the lonely nighttime street, he paused and looked up at the sky. The stars were obscured by clouds and light pollution, and for one painful heartbeat he yearned to see them. He thought, if he did ever see his Skippy again, he might have to take it as a sign from a god he didn't believe in, and act.

#fellow travelers #fellowtravelersedit #tim laughlin #hawkins fuller #hawk x tim #tim x hawk #redrites #* #ftfic #fellow travelers fics

[originalaccountname]

Fun BSD French translation details and choices - Episode 21 (by someone who does not understand Japanese but thinks the differences with the English translation/subtitles are fun)

General notes: (get comfortable, Stuff Happens and blorbo is here)

A lot of weird little things today. Kouyou said she was delivering Dazai's message to Mori "to thank the ADA for their hospitality". Mori talks like he's mistaking Dazai's tan coat for the coat he gave him years ago and is delighted Dazai still wears it. Dazai says he only recently learned about the thinkers Mori mentions. Stuff like that, that shifts time or intent slightly.

Dazai's final jab to Mori was "les monstres ont tendance à croire que les autres sont des monstres également" (monsters tend to think others are also monsters).

Soukoku's name in French in the anime is "Double Noir", literally "Double Black" (though 'noir' can mean both 'black' and 'dark'). Fun fact: on the French wiki, they are also listed as "les jumeaux de l'ombre" (twins from the shadows).

After nullifying Steinbeck's ability, Dazai says "Oh, le salopard!~" (Oh, that bastard!~), as if he's sarcastically replying to Steinbeck's shock at Dazai's ability, instead of complaining about having to deal with Chuuya.

When Chuuya asks Dazai if he knows was a Pétrus is, Dazai actually answers and says yes he knows, it's an extremely pricey bordeaux (Oui, c'est un vin de bordeaux extrêmement coûteux).

Dazai call Q "the sleeping princess waiting to be saved" (la princesse endormie qui attend d'être sauvée). Chuuya sneers "yeah, talk about a sleeping princess" (ouais, tu parles d'une princesse endormie).

"Écoute, tant que Q sera en vie, vous aurez besoin de mon pouvoir pour désamorcer le sien; je vous serai des plus précieux, et la Mafia veilleras sur moi comme une tendre mère poule" (Listen, so long as Q is alive, you will need my ability to disarm hers*; I will be invaluable, and the Mafia will watch over me like a sweet mother hen.) (*Q is a girl in the French dub)

Skk's plans are called "Remords et crapaud" (Remorse and Toad), "Pluie derrière le treillis" (Rain Behind the Trellis), "Mensonges d'une fleur décorative" (Lies of a Decorative/Fake Flower) (side note: they all sound like one of them has to hide and/or cause a diversion...)

"Listen Chuuya... I have one last thing to ask you before I die..." (Écoute Chuuya... j'ai une dernière chose à te demander avant de mourir...)

Chuuya refers to using Corruption like it's a strategy name like the other 3 were just before. It's also called Pollution, which is the same word in both English and French. It sounds less cool than Corruption (which would also be the same word in French), but it does fit the tainted+ vibe. Dazai does later refer to it as "Chuuya's corrupted form".

Ô, pourvoyeurs de pollution noire, Autorise-nous à lui fermer les yeux à tout jamais. (O , purveyors of dark pollution, Allow us to forever close their* eyes.) (*singular, unspecified gender pronoun in French)

Today's quotes:

VF: Alors c'est quoi ce tentacule? Un caprice de la nature? (So what's that tentacle then? A freak of nature?) Eng: If it's not an ability, then what is it?

Dazai: Le choix te reviens, mon vieil ami. (The choice is yours, my old friend.) Chuuya: Le choix me revient, le choix me revient... c'est facile à dire ça. En plus, je sais que quand tu prononces ces paroles, c'est que nous n'avons justement plus d'autres choix. (The choice is mine, the choice is mine... that's easy to say. Plus, I know that when you say those words, it's because we don't have any other choices left.) Eng: I'll let you choose. // You'll let me choose? Whenever you say that, I never actually have another choice.

Chuuya: Je me suis servi de ce pouvoir parce que je te faisais confiance, et toi...! Tu as intérêt à me ramener à la base, si tu veux que je... te pardonne un jour... (I used that power because I trusted you, and you...! You better bring be back to base, if you want me to... one day forgive you...) Dazai: Tu peux compter sur moi, coéquipier. (You can count on me, teammate/partner.) Eng: I used Corruption because I trusted you. You... better take me... to the extraction point... // You got it, buddy.

#bsdrewatch2023 #bsd french dub adventures #bsd #bungou stray dogs #apparently i talk sometimes #THAT TOOK FOREVER #that's fine it's because i have things to share

[nityarawal]

3/23/23

Dear Courts-

This is my testimony for myself & Carol Lund with her husband Keith.

I was slumlorded out of Joan Grandizio's home at the "Freedom Farm," at 

59605 Grandon Road in Turweleger community of Anza, CA in January.

I started working with Joan on a referral from our handyman Ryan Wickoff. 

He said she fired him for no good reason. He was going to move in. 

So we hired Eddy Lyons - another kind handyman to investigate the trailer I was buying to tow to her farm in Sep. 

Eddy also still needs to be paid for that service! We both did this in good faith and spent a day in Pine Cove with the owner Oceana Cotton.

Eddy also witnessed this kind of abuse at Barbara Bradford's farm after her maintenance guy raped me! She stole most if my furniture and storage!

I was living at Kosh's airbnb in Pinyon at 69907 Averill Drive, Mountain Center, CA 92561 at the time. 

We found out Kosh's well water was polluted (and spreading giardia!)

I passed a parasite worm there for 1st time in life after 1000's of cleanses because of dozens of foul rentals & dirty hospitals/court violence!

Then I moved next door to Mary Schmitz's animal rescue Farm at:

62950 Pinyon Dr

Mountain Center CA 92561 

Moonrise Ranch ✨🐎🏕😊

To a dirty teepee she said was cleaned and 2 geckos crawled under stomach 1st night!

I cleaned her farm for months 24/7 (and it appeared deeply neglected for months.)

I told Mary we needed someone to tow trailer in October and she said her ex boyfriend Sean was going to steal it for himself! ): 

I asked her to advise him not to since she's a realtor and this was my verbal disclosure of my plan to buy it- because she said we could move it to her farm- and I only needed someone to tow it. 

I said it was mean and she drunkenly laughed it off. 

All her instruments were stolen too! (I have pictures of them so we can return them to rightful owners!)

She must be looting all her clients because she stole 3 guitars and all my roomful of assets since I took this job with Joan in January and won't let me go home! 

They also blocked me from water and home many times while I was at Elliots- locking me out late at night and in bad weather!

Oceana Cotton had promised to sell trailer to me or give it to Stevie and Joleen. 

Stevie now has cancer of dick & needs his home returned! (It was indeed stolen!)

Joan liked my handyman Eddy Lyons but fired him too for being friends with her "hated" tenants Carol & Keith and not obeying her "silencing" orders.

Finally, in January things were unbearable tending to Mary's 6 sick dogs while she battled alcoholism- she'd moved me to one of her 5 boyfriend's fathers home: Dan Elliot senior at:

61283 Chalet DR.

MOUNTAIN CENTER, CA

92561.

She promised he was sober- yet I had to ask him and friends not to do crystal meth in house because I'm really allergic and its illegal- cleaned needles up from whole property! I told him this condemned his house as a realtor, I'm allergic to Nazi drugs and don't want to ever see or smell it in a house! 

He was living in his Inherited Probate getting slumlorded by siblings in court stressed out of his head ill. Feds were terrorizing him too and Kosh on late payments with drone trespassing.

So I cooked, cleaned, provided food- gave him all my money and was his slave for months after being enslaved to Mary at her farm- and now Joan doxed my location to cops on brobes for months at her home & camping in snow.

I stayed one week at Dennis Sketchleys- a handyman that gave me a tick in my bed- when he slumlorded me from 54399 valleyview and tollgate/country club homes and beat me. I promised never to go on his property again but was desperate in snow! 

Then Dennis kicked me out after Mary's client Jessie was murdered at her airbnb tree house listing with Mike in Pine Cove. 

(I really need assets from Divorce Dissolution so I don't have to rent from ex-cons and field their abuse!)

Joan hired me to move to her Landers rescue with Glen; he's her 400 pound laborer that is ill from inhumane conditions- he can no longer walk- and rides machines around property hobbling to tend to animals.

There was no hot water or kitchen.

Joan offered me her "clean" Dome house. I got there after dark and took her word that it'd been cleaned for me. 

The bed was filthy and floors covered in dirt I saw in morning. 

Joan wanted me to take over Glen's job at her Lander's farm.

She said Glen was making: $400/mo at

$15/hour and she covered Phone payments, 2 days off, 25 hours a week for Morning feedings with Blankets on horses,

Checking on all cat & pippy Litters.

Puppies- are in-door & out-door with Double gates. Glen used Tractor to take

Manure to dumpster with Wheelbarrow.

She was marketing Earthen domes on camp websites. She said there was no

Kitchen which doesn't seem legal. 

I could see Glen wouldn't live long when I got there with such I'll health abd depression in substandard room even though he's my age! 

I worked for several days alongside them all training with him and encouraged Joan to keep him too. 

(He doesn't have anywhere to go and depends on his job and is very subservient and hard working despite Joan's demands. He nods as told to colleagues/tenants like obedient slave despite physical handicaps from her grossly neglected abd functionally obsolete animal shelters!)

Glen promised to put in hot water and a shower in a bathroom within a week since there was nowhere to clean up properly and it was very cold and windy. I was freaking out with no shower after 2 days of cleaning pig & horse / puppy/cat shit.

Joan asked me to come back to her Anz farm to work on contracts. 

She said I'd be doing the work exchange like Glen taking over his job. 

Joan gave me very detailed directions to her property. 

She said:

"10:30 a.m.

Come down mtn to Rancho Mirage

74 straight

10 west

Hwy 62

29 palms

Windmills

Yucca valley (call Joanne) 

Old women springs rd -Hwy 247- left (north)

20 miles to

Reche Rd. 

Curves to right - turn right

Pass

Landers post office - GPS

5-10 min away 

Left see Moose Lodge

Next White Building

Says Billfs Hall

Left on Gibraltar (if get to end of Gibralter - Gone too far- see back of property.)

1 block f/ end

About mile

Knox- ni-man - (right)

(Applegate way should say)

Pass abandoned house

Next property 

Will see 1 8th 1

(JOANS)

TELEPHONE POLE

58562

METAL EAGLE DANCER

CHURCH- JESUS SAVES

STORAGE"

So I think it's supposed to be:

58562 Applegate Way? 

Or Knox-ni-man? 

(Note: She failed to mention if it was Gibralter Ave or Dr. And they're side by side. How many have they tricked & trashed cars on tow? 

Please present my full letter!)

But the 2nd day I was there I came home one night from getting groceries and Must've passed Gibralter and took a second Gibralter on Left! 

Joan failed to mention there were two Gintralter roads parallel next to each other in my notes as you can see. 

So I end up at the end of this road with a deserted house in the sand. 

I looped around to see where I went wrong on directions and came back to dead end with abandoned house confused. 

I tried to circle out and got stuck in a sand driveway.

 I called Glen to get me and he said put car in reverse or neutral and slammed my car right into the back side of his truck! 

He promised his friend would fix it next day but failed to follow up. I've written them both many times!

I sent Joan the bill for over $3000 and she's shirking her responsibility to all employees that have worked for her.

She invited me back to Freedom Farm in Anza to shower and use her kitchen. 

She said everything was hers in refrigerator and insisted I help myself. 

She wanted to do the contract with me so I paid $40 to download a work exchange rental but she wouldnt sit down and focus on it for several days. She has added from parasites!

Her agenda was to wrongfully evict her tenants!

I told Joan I don't go to court or talk to police due to PTSD. 

She wanted me to go to the Courthouse with her to smear the tenants and I said I can't go to court. 

I asked her to drop me at a park or mall while I wait for her. 

She refused to drop me off and finally I had to get out at curb of Murietta Courthouse and wait for hours in the landfill across street. 

She had no sympathy for PTSD I have from domestic in-house terrorism of courts! 

Then she grilled me about my divorce and lack of settlements all day.

Since then I found out psychiatrist courts kidnapped me to Dr. Singh Was advertising my head for a Probate murder at Moreno Valley Hospital for Riverside Health. 

We feel Joan took bribes on all employee heads for court and is contentious.

Joan failed to sit and focus on contract all weekend because she was obsessed with wrongfully Evicting her tenants! 

I told her I can't Get involved- as my custody battle is priority of my life- and I don't have energy to deal with inhumane actions to people. 

For an animal rescue- we could all see she was being careless and cruel to all of us employees.

Joan told me her lawyer got ill visiting her and had to have his leg amputated when he was recently there and put me on a couch on the enclosed porch waiting room. She said Glen had slept there before me and didn't want me to open it into a bed. 

We feel Joan was intentionally spreading germ warfare. 

All the employees were traumatized by her lawyers diseased fate serving her and she never cleaned out his room. 

When I went into it I vomited and disease is rampant in her homes.

Joan instructed me to never speak to tenants Carol & Keith. 

She said she'd trained Glen just to nod at them. This is not my way but I was trying to be a loyal servant so followed orders. Carol & Keith were confused by my silence and scared having a stranger on property they weren't introduced to, so it put me in a uncomfortable, and compromised position.

One night I was in kitchen making tea and Joan called on speaker phone. 

Carol & Keith heard and were also in kitchen. 

Joan kept calling Carol "fatty" loudly on my phone and screaming other nasty names goading her on my speaker phone from Landers, meanwhile putting me in harms way with her upset and bullied tenants in THEIR kitchen! 

I also ate some potato salad and salami- because Joan said everything was hers- when in fact it was the tenants! That caused alot if drama! I paid Carol back $5 and decided to testify for her rather than Joan!

On Saturday- which was supposed to be my day off- Joan called and texted over a dozen times from morning to night about her tenant dispute harassing us. 

I told her I needed some rest from her drama. 

She wanted to call cops on tenants. 

I said if she needs to do that let me know- so I could leave.

 I have an extremely clean and prudent history despite many court contentious people like Joan trying to take bribes on head in ponzi scam against moms and lying in smear campaigns.

Joan knew I was just diagnosed with PTSD from officer rapes and foul play in September and I couldn't talk to them. 

She lied and said tenant called cops! 

Officer King came and tried to interrogate me and drag me in. 

I said I was just a guest- sat in my car- and refused his interrogation. 

Joan called and he wanted my phone to talk to her. 

I said "no" so he was pissed he had to use own phone and was rude to me rest of night. 

It was upsetting that Joan dragged me in anyways- and kept saying my name "Nitya" - which is very unusual and private. I texted her to never dox my location to a cop or my name again! 

I asked officer King for his card before he left and he was rude not to give it to me. 

I have sent videos of all the sarcastic, rude and nasty things he said to me to both Carol & Joan. 

It was extremely racist.

I told Joan I would leave if cops Terrorized us again and she led me to believe tenants had called- when it was her! She left a voice-mail confessing and then after lying about it.

Monday she wanted me to go to court with her again; I said "no" so she wanted me back in Landers and arranged for another laborer to come up. 

Monday morning I broke her rules -she said -by asking Carol for cops business card before I left. 

I also found out my x's atty died in a scuba diving accident last summer. 

It seemed preminiscious since I'd written a song about her called Barracuda Mamma. Sharkbait song unfolded that weekend and I was pleased with sequel I'd written and good news for my children's freedom from one atty in their pedophile sting.

I sent my new song to Joan and Carol as I was getting ready to drive to her Landers farm hours away.

Joan texted me to leave. 

It was very cold considering I'd worked 24/7 in slumming conditions for a week! She asked about my records and was looking to see if she could get me in trouble for court. 

I confessed dmv.org consulted with my ex husband and was withholding my registration even though IRS stole thousands of dollars of tax returns from 2016 divorce and also hired gay officer Enoch and Daniel Crabtree to steal my Lexus rental car on rape bribes from attys. I'd been caged by Dr. Singh 18 months of covid in shit filled rooms slumlorded out of over a dozen homes, all my assets stolen, and dmv refused to honor years where I couldn't even use Lexus Lemon while it was being serviced! Santa Monica Lexus dealership tried to steal my car while I was raped at hospitals and dmv.org refused to register it. I paid several hundred and they said that would suffice! 

They got several thousand from IRS yet they still fail to send registration sticker! Joan knew I was working for her to clean up that one thing from previous courts abuse!

I left within an hour when she said "bye," only to be greeted by officers Schmitt coming out of bushes hiding at gate. 

He cordially told me to have a good day.

 A block later Sheriff Curtis was coming down her dirt road and pulled me over. 

He said he was arresting me on registration and Cuffed and beat me into back of his car.

Carol said she was talking to officer Schmitt and he realized I lived and worked for Joan so came out and had Curtis release me. 

Curtis threatened to steal my car if he ever sees me again. 

Sargeant Protero raided my home and stole my phone & dog Blu I share with our handyman Eddy Lyons- in covid of 2020. 

Mountain Liquor say our Nazi Sheriff Brags about violence they've inflicted on me and say they wished they'd stolen my Lexus as well as my rental car when they had me raped with broken ribs in covid for 18 months of shit filled hospitals.

Mary Schmitz stole all my belongings from her boyfriend's dad's house where I was renting. 

We all feel both her and Joan doxed my location to have me murdered.

Joan wrote to say she was surprised I didn't go to jail! 

She asked me to wait all day while she sorted everything out. 

I sat in rain for 8+ hours- then she called to say she didn't want me back and laid her silencing trip on me.

I've been homeless since camping in snow. 

Mary Schmitz refuses to return assets and Joan just sends "cease & desist" messages to any reasonable communication.

We feel these animal rescues are a farce and they're actually abusing humans and animals.

I've seen 7 Dr's since with over 20 variants of parasites and bugs. 

Carol says Joan had covid and was taking parasite medication- but she failed to disclose Germ warfare! 

I need reimbursement on car damages, gas, health repercussions and a home for that week of hard work we all did. 

I need $50k in damages to cover unemployment for next year and would like to have my home back with tenants. 

We will bug bomb and disinfect it. Otherwise both her properties should be closed down and are condemned. 

We feel Joan has abused over 6 employees just since September spreading parasitic disease, gaslighting & abusive tactics; and she's not in her right mind to practice business. 

She never had a reasonable reason to fire all of us and it appears she's working for courts full time as a nazi soldier weaponizing motherhood. 

We feel 50k is a fair sum if she settles today so that we can heal at home in peace for remainder of year with kids & new puppies. 

Thankyou!

Blessings,

Nitya Rawal

Encinitasbeachhome.com

National Association of REALTORS 

Journalist @nityalakshmi108 - all docs and Grievances posted since September.

PS

More notes from Joan on Landers Job:

Ac

Porta potty

Joan Grandizio

Facebook 

3 or 4 hours a day

Dome house: 

Bigger Fridge

Table

Toaster oven ( which I bought at Anza Hardware & just returned- because I've been terrified Curtis & Nazi cops would steal my car & kill me with their hospital & court contentious bribed colleagues of atty Sharkbait circle!)

No water

Park in front of Dome

Walk

5 acres

2nd half sold

"Guanacasa" - Costarica

Transfer benefits to Costa

Start business 2-3 years

Buy a property that has a business

150k Ranchette 

Left on Gibraltar (if get to end of Gibralter - Gone too far- see back of property.)

#3/23/23 Dear Courts- This is my testimony for myself & Carol Lund with her husband Keith. I was slumlorded out of Joan Grandizio's home #" at 59605 Grandon Road in Turweleger community of Anza #CA in January. I started working with Joan on a referral from our handyman Ryan Wickoff. He said she fired him for no good reason. He wa #Mountain Center #CA 92561 at the time. We found out Kosh's well water was polluted (and spreading giardia!) I passed a parasite worm there for 1st time i #in January things were unbearable tending to Mary's 6 sick dogs while she battled alcoholism- she'd moved me to one of her 5 boyfriend's fa #CA 92561. She promised he was sober- yet I had to ask him and friends not to do crystal meth in house because I'm really allergic and its #I'm allergic to Nazi drugs and don't want to ever see or smell it in a house! He was living in his Inherited Probate getting slumlorded b #cleaned #provided food- gave him all my money and was his slave for months after being enslaved to Mary at her farm- and now Joan doxed my location #2 days off #25 hours a week for Morning feedings with Blankets on horses #Checking on all cat & pippy Litters. Puppies- are in-door & out-door with Double gates. Glen used Tractor to take Manure to dumpster wit

[reasonsforhope]

According to the World Resources Institute, the number of electric school buses operating or delivered in the United States more than doubled—from 598 in 2022 to 1,285 through June 2023—all driven to serve school children while providing cleaner air in 40 states.

Looking into the near future, the number of electric school buses that were already funded or on-order nearly tripled, and were spread across districts located in 49 states.

The emissions-free buses are found in 914 U.S. school districts and private fleet operators, according to the evidence-based nonprofit’s report published in September, 2023: State of Electric School Bus Adoption in the US.

California leads all states, with over 2,000 committed electric buses across the sprawling territory. This is more than five times as many EV buses as the next leading state, Maryland, with 391 commitments.

New Jersey has the second largest increase with 107 new buses, while West Virginia has the third largest increase with 42 new commitments. The updated data shows electric school bus commitments are now more evenly distributed across all regions of the country.

The Top 5 School Districts by Number of Electric School Buses are:

Montgomery County Public Schools (Maryland)

Los Angeles Unified School District

New York City Public Schools

Twin Rivers Unified School District (California)

Troy Community Consolidated School District (Illinois)

“We estimate approximately 69,000 students across the country are currently served by electric school buses that are delivered or in operation,” said the report authors, Lydia Freehafer, Leah Lazer, and Brian Zepka.

Zero pollution from tailpipes while buses are idling or driving means the students, staff, and community will be exposed to significantly less harmful air particulates that contribute to asthma and lung disease. The environment also benefits from reduced greenhouse gas emissions.

The federal government’s Clean School Bus Program, administered by the Environmental Protection Agency, is one of the biggest funders of these vehicles, having awarded 2,339 electric school buses—with more on the way.

-via Good News Network, December 30, 2023

#united states #us politics #sustainability #climate change #hope posting #school #school district #school buses #electric vehicles #ev #clean air #carbon emissions #pollution #air pollution #high school #public school #california #los angeles #maryland #new york #illinois #good news #hope #environmentalism #driving #epa #environmental protection #biden administration

[clonemando]

@blackat-t7t Here is your Fox/Thorn H/C with a cuddle pile at the end. Enjoy.

There was a ringing snap as the old rusted barrier along the walkway gave out under the weight of a fully armored trooper crashing into it and Thorn watched as Fox’s gaze met his own wide with fear before he was falling backward over the edge. Thorn dove for him with a scream but his fingers barely brushed over Fox’s chestplate before his partner was gone swallowed up by the dark depths of Coruscant’s seemingly endless levels the same way many cadets ended up swallowed by Kamino’s waves.

For a moment he just stared feeling a void echoing the one he was staring at being torn open in his chest. Then Rex’s voice broke him from his daze.

“I didn’t mean- I didn’t- Thorn I- Fox-” He struggled to get anything out, horror replacing the rage that had been on his expression just minutes earlier as he corned them on their patrol to yell at Fox for avoiding him.

“You didn’t mean to kill him? Like he meant to kill Fives you mean? Well, you did. Guess you’re the brother killer now, Rex. Congratulations on your revenge.” Thorn said, voice level and empty as he watched Rex flinch and step back.

“What- What do we do now? Do we call-” Rex started eyes flickering around as if looking for some sort of help.

“Call who Rex? The Guard? I am the Guard and there’s nothing I can do now. He’s gone. He’s not a person, there won’t be an investigation. He’s not the first we lost over an edge and he won’t be the last and there’s never anything to do. You just… finish your patrol. Report the lost republic property to the Chancellor and put a few troopers on double shifts until we can get a replacement from Kamino.” He said starting to walk again. He had to finish his patrol. He was already late now and Fox would be upset if Thorn got himself punished for being late.

“You can’t just… just keep working! Shouldn’t you call Thire or something? There’s bereavement leave. The Kaminoans even approved it to keep their products at their most effective. The Jedi-” Rex started as he followed Thorn and finally he snapped.

“If you have forgotten, the Guard doesn’t have a Jedi. We had Fox. That’s it! We had Fox and he could only get us so much because he’s not considered a person either! Now we don’t even have him and we will all need to take triple shifts to cover all the stuff he has been shouldering on our behalf! I don’t have anyone available to cover this patrol. That’s why Fox and I were doing it. We just lost three shinies to senators and a full team was wiped out in a gang raid the week before. We don’t get things like leave or whatever the kriff bereavement is. The Guard belongs to the Senate, the Jedi abandoned us, just like you GAR bucketheads. So kriff off and go cry to your jedi for your extra days off and let me take care of my family. You’ve done enough Rex.” He spat darkly before turning on his heel and continuing his patrol. Rex didn’t follow him this time.

He raised his wrist to access his coms after another ten minutes.

“This is Commander Thorn reporting a 9-12 slash D. Commander Fox was lost to faulty railing in Sector 12-A. We will discuss promotions and schedule changes at the dawn shift change. As his second the Marshal position falls to me now. Carry on with your duties.” He murmured numbly before letting his arm fall and continuing to move on autopilot almost hoping the Separatists would chose to attack now so he’d have an excuse to shoot something. But the rest of the patrol was quiet.

Fox was exhausted. He had spent the last two days slogging through filth and fighting off the weird pollution corrupted creatures that prowled the lowest levels just to make his way to the closest working lift. Then he had to sit on the floor listening to the worst possible sort of music as he slowly ascended out of the dark toward his family and home. His arm was definitely broken and Shark was going to shoot him up with every hypo they had with complaints about the bite wounds he had getting infected but Fox was pretty sure he had gotten off easy.

~

He couldn’t explain how he was alive. The concussion made it hard to think straight but even with that he knew he had to have fallen at least 100 levels if not more. But at the last minute something had caught him and slowed his fall enough the injuries were survivable. He didn’t really take stock in the Jedi’s fancy force shit but maybe there was something out there looking out for him.

Once he was above the com-cut line where they lost signal to their coms he immediately reached out. “This is Commander Fox. I am injured and will need a medic and pick up from the lift in Sector 12-D, could someone also bring me some caff? I’m kriffing tired.” He grumbled into the line and smiled when it immediately started blowing up, resting his head against the side of the lift and letting his family’s furies and delighted voices wash over him like a warm blanket.

“Cut the chatter! Fox, Shark and I will be waiting for you once you reach the top. I… It’s good to hear from you but you have a lot of explaining on how you’re alive.” Thorn’s voice finally cut in and Fox’s smile grew.

“You’re going to be waiting until the Senate turns for that answer my rose, I have no kriffing clue. Woke up at the bottom with a concussion, broken arm and some jostled ribs but I was able to drag myself up and start walking to the lift not too long after the fall.” He sighed not even realizing he had used his pet name for Thorn until the line filled with cooing from the rest of the guard.

Fox passed out not long after that and only woke up again when Thorn was lifting him out of the elevator and onto a hover-cot and Shark started cursing him out. He squeezed Thorn’s hand then passed out again.

He flickered in and out of consciousness a few more times before finally waking up feeling better than he had felt in years. Blinking open his arms he was unsurprised to find Thorn plastered to his side and Hound using his stomach as a pillow. Shark must have allowed them to take him to the barracks at some point because he was laid out in the middle of the three mattresses they had shoved together at the beginning of the war so they could all sleep together and he was buried under his Guard.

“I thought… I thought you were gone for good. I thought I lost you.” Thorn’s voice was soft with fear and sleep and Fox ran his fingers through the long blond curls.

“Told you I was too stubborn to die. Can’t get rid of me that easily. I still have to scare the Senate into giving us rights so I can marry you one day.” He said with a small smile and Thorn sighed.

“While you were gone I shot the Chancellor. We’ve been dressing up in his robes and pretending he’s got the cornellian flu until we figure out what else to do but now you’re back it’s your problem. I’m taking a thing Rex told me was called bereavement.” Thorn said and Fox’s eyes opened fully from where he had started drifting off again.

“YOU DID WHAT?! THORN! I was gone two days!” He shrieked.

“He implied you were better off dead and I was in mourning. There’s scientific data proving making people work through grief lowers productivity. It’s not my fault!” Thorn whined and nuzzled his face in Fox’s neck while Fox tried to wiggle free but he couldn’t move from how he was buried under so many siblings.

“I’m going to kill you once I’m free. I’m going to kill all of you!” He growled but they all ignored him in favor of continuing their nap.

#star wars #fanfic #the clone wars #tcw #the coruscant guard #my writing #commander thorn #commander fox #sw tcw #hurt/comfort #clone shipping #Fox/Thorn #requests

[futurebird]

When murders go unrecognized.

In the 60s my dad joined the national guard. He wanted to get a degree in chemistry and not end up working in the steel mill like his dad. Both of these things worked out for him. He ended up working for the EPA (which he and all his work buddies called "air pollution" for some reason, talk about bad branding)

Anyway it's the 60s and this handsome fellow is on a base for some basic training.

They got evenings on weekends off and could go into town.

On one of these hot summer weekends it's nearly the end of the camp. All of the young men were basically sick of training and things got a little wild in town with some of the young men drinking too much. My dad was in a bunk house near the gate. All of the black members of the guard were housed together. They got back just in time, being late for curfew was a big deal.

But once back in the house they noticed one young man was missing.

Let's call the missing man J.

So, my dad and his new friends in the guard are watching the gate waiting for J. to get back from town. Two hours late J. comes stumbling up the gravel drive to the little gate house. This gate house was staffed by two white guys, not much older than the new members.

They stop J. who is visibly wobbling and clearly not sober.

What everyone expected to happen was J. would get yelled at, and he might have to run laps or something the next morning. Really, curfew was a big deal, so it might be even worse than that.

But, now my dad and the other young men watched as an argument broke out. One of the white guards grabbed J. by the shirt. J. waved him off and tried to walk away. And then suddenly there was a gun shot.

J. had been shot dead!

In the house, the mood went from mild amusement at J. getting in trouble to silence. No one could hear what was being said but after some time a more senior member of the guard appeared. Medics removed J. body.

Training continued the next day as if nothing had happened.

The event was recorded as "insubordination" and "self - defense." The double insulation of the 60s and the military meant that the young man who murdered J faced no consequences. This whole incident was simply swallowed by time. But, my dad told me the story several times. Especially when stressing why you should be careful around cops, or guards or anyone with a gun and the swagger of authority.

Though, the more I think about it the more I want to go back and find out more. Maybe at least get some statements from the other witnesses. My dad claims it's impossible to do anything because, when in the military you aren't covered by the same legal protections as a citizen.

There isn't going to be any big movie or book about J. He's just another young man who disappeared.

I wonder if he had anyone to send his photo in uniform to?

#racism #stories #murder #history #US history #national guard #dad stories

[zvaigzdelasas]

The global market for carbon offsets is worth about $2 billion today and projected to grow to as much as $1 trillion in 15 years even as it faces fundamental questions about credibility and effectiveness. Add government appropriation to the list of risks for this climate solution. A shock announcement this week that Zimbabwe will take half of all revenues generated from offsets projects developed on its territory is a harbinger of an uncertain future in the carbon trade. The African nation is the world’s 12th largest creator of offsets, with 4.2 million credits from 30 registered projects last year, according to BloombergNEF.

Zimbabwe’s move gives the government control of carbon credit production and cancels all past agreements with international organizations. That means more revenue generated from credits tied to protecting forests and other efforts to cut emissions will flow into national coffers rather than going to project developers. There’s now risk that other countries might follow suit, creating new uncertainties for businesses that develop and sell offsets, corporations that purchase offsets as a way to counterbalance their greenhouse gas pollution and the cohort of traders who invest in this emerging asset class. [...]

The move “blindsided” CO2balance, a company that runs five carbon offset projects in Zimbabwe. “Everyone knew changes were happening but we weren’t expecting this — it wasn’t on the horizon,” said Paul Chiplen, head of sales, in an interview on Thursday. “It does put a question mark in investors’ minds when you’re not quite sure of what level of return you’re getting.” [...]

“I think it is an entirely understandable thing for Zimbabwe to want to take a proportion of the funds from any exports of carbon from its territory,” said Edward Hanrahan, director at carbon project developer Climate Impact Partners. “But the issue is they acted rapidly and without prior notice.”[...]

Each credit represents one ton of carbon dioxide and can be bought and sold many times before being used. The unregulated structure of the market involving companies, traders and governments creates risk of double counting. What if a government seeks to benefit by trading a credit produced in its territory after its been sold to an investor or used in a corporate sustainability plan?[...]

Treating carbon credits as just another export commodity underscores an imbalance at the heart of this global trade: Efforts to develop credits are usually funded by firms from wealthy countries and sold to corporate buyers in Europe and the US, yet most of the projects are located in emerging economies. This setup has been derided as a form of carbon colonialism that strips developing countries of an increasingly valuable resource. “Rushing to frame the decision by Zimbabwe as ‘nationalization risk’ exposes a sense of entitlement to access those resources by the global North,” said Rich Gilmore, chief executive officer at investment manager Carbon Growth Partners in Melbourne. “We need to acknowledge that the past 200 years of resource extraction have miserably failed people and the planet. And if we want the carbon market to scale, we need to respect the right of the nations of the south to determine their own rules.”[...]

Developers and investors might start to prioritize countries where governments have been transparent about their future carbon policies. Plus, if governments follow Zimbabwe in taking half of the project revenues, that will create a barrier to carbon projects that are the most costly to implement.[...]

It’s “entirely appropriate” for countries to seek a larger share from their carbon resources but they must “carefully consider the economics,” said Martijn Wilder, chief executive officer of Pollination, a climate advisory and investment firm. “If what’s left for a project developer is not sufficient to cover an investible rate of return, the project simply won’t happen.”

21 May 23