#Spring Racing Transfers

[andrrut13]

Spring Racing Water Transfer Melbourne | Spring Racing Carnival Transfers | MV Birrarung

 Take a relaxed tour to Flemington race track with Spring Racing Carnival Transfers from New Quay Docklands and other locations with MV Birrarung

[lvnleah]

— the best gift | alessia russo 🎄

find the twelve days of Christmas masterlist here!

You sat on the couch, nervously fidgeting with the ribbon on the small, neatly wrapped box in your lap. Alessia was in the kitchen humming a soft tune, pouring two mugs of hot chocolate—her Christmas Eve tradition—and completely unaware of the surprise you were about to spring on her.

Your heart raced as you thought about the tiny test inside the box, wrapped in tissue paper. You hadn’t planned on testing early. The clinic had been so firm about waiting the full two weeks after the embryo transfer, but the anticipation had been eating at you. This morning, while Alessia was out picking up last-minute stocking stuffers, you’d caved.

You’d stared at the test for what felt like an eternity, your hands trembling as two faint pink lines began to appear. Positive. It was positive.

Now, hours later, the excitement bubbled in your stomach, but so did the nerves. You’d wanted this for so long—both of you had—but the journey hadn’t been easy. The setbacks, the disappointment, the negative tests, the constant rollercoaster of hope and heartbreak… all of it led to this moment. And now, the one thing left to do was tell Alessia.

“Hot chocolate’s ready!” Alessia’s voice called, pulling you out of your thoughts.

She entered the room, carrying the mugs carefully, her face lighting up when she saw you sitting by the tree. Her blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, and her cheeks were flushed, either from the warmth of the kitchen or the happiness that radiated off her every time you were together.

“You look suspiciously cosy,” she teased, setting the mugs on the coffee table before plopping down beside you.

You smiled, doing your best to play it cool. “Just waiting for you. It’s Christmas Eve, remember? We’re supposed to open our gifts to each other.”

Alessia grinned. “You’re really sticking to this ‘midnight gift’ tradition, huh?”

“It’s tradition for a reason,” you shot back, holding out the little box in your hands.

Her eyes flicked to the gift, her brow furrowing slightly. “Wait, I thought we were doing the big ones tomorrow?”

“This is a little one,” you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts.

Alessia gave you a curious smile but took the box, her fingers brushing yours. “Alright. Let’s see what this ‘little one’ is all about.”

You watched her carefully as she untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. The tissue paper crinkled softly as she pulled it back, revealing the test inside.

For a moment, she froze, her eyes locked on the object in her hand. Then, slowly, she looked up at you, her lips parting as if she were about to speak but couldn’t quite find the words.

“Is this…?” she started, her voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, tears already pooling in your eyes. “It’s positive, Less. I took it this morning. I know I wasn’t supposed to test yet, but I couldn’t wait, and—”

Before you could finish, Alessia launched herself at you, her arms wrapping around you so tightly that it knocked the breath out of your lungs. Her face was buried in your shoulder, and you could feel the dampness of her tears against your skin.

“You’re pregnant?” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

“I’m pregnant,” you confirmed, your own tears spilling over as you held her close.

Alessia pulled back just enough to cup your face in her hands, her eyes shining with a mix of disbelief and pure, unfiltered joy. “We’re having a baby?”

You laughed, nodding. “We’re having a baby.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. Alessia leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours as her thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks.

“This is the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten,” she said softly, her voice filled with so much love it made your heartache.

“I thought you might say that,” you teased, your laughter breaking the tension as Alessia let out a watery laugh of her own.

She looked down at the test again, shaking her head like she couldn’t quite believe it. “I don’t even know what to say. This is… incredible.”

You placed a hand over hers, your fingers lacing together. “I just wanted to tell you in a way you’d never forget.”

“Oh, I’ll never forget this,” Alessia promised, her eyes meeting yours. “This is everything we’ve ever dreamed of.”

As the two of you sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms with the faint glow of the Christmas tree surrounding you, it felt like the world had paused just for this moment. Your journey had been long and full of challenges, but now, as Alessia kissed you and whispered how much she loved you, it was clear: this was the start of something even more beautiful than you’d ever imagined.

[reveryfics]

Neighbors pt.2

Frank Castle "The Punisher" x Male Reader

Summary: It's been almost a year since Frank walked into your apartment, revealing his life as The Punisher. You'd settled into a demanding routine as an overnight ER nurse, navigating that world alongside your relationship with Frank. Little did you know, those two worlds were about to collide.

A/N: I got a couple comments asking for a second part to the Neighbors fic, uh I wasn't exactly sure what to do with this so hopefully this is okay. Male nurse reader as well, cause we all know Frank would end up dead without you.

TW: Blood - Broken arm - Injury - Comfort

The automatic doors of the emergency room shrieked open, a violent gust of air preceding a surge of hurried footsteps and the staccato bursts of clipped radio chatter. Two EMTs, their faces etched with grim urgency, propelled a gurney through the opening. The insistent, rhythmic beeping of a cardiac monitor sliced through the already buzzing chaos, an electronic heartbeat in the pandemonium. "Thirty-something male, found unresponsive at the scene, possible overdose," one of the EMTs barked, his voice barely cutting through the din.

Across the crowded bay, a different kind of drama unfolded. Another pair of EMTs struggled to transfer a screaming elderly woman onto a hospital bed, her cries of pain echoing off the unforgiving linoleum floors. A young resident, his face pale and drawn under the harsh fluorescent lights, scribbled furiously on a chart, barking orders to a harried-looking nurse whose movements were a study in controlled frenzy.

You navigated this swirling vortex of controlled pandemonium, your own adrenaline still thrumming from the relentless stream of patients that had flooded in since your shift began what felt like an eternity ago. Just moments before, you had finished meticulously suturing a nasty, jagged gash on a construction worker’s forearm, the thick smell of antiseptic clinging to the air. Then the call came in – a multi-car pile-up on the highway. Now, you were heading towards the trauma bay, a knot of apprehension tightening in your stomach as you mentally braced yourself for whatever awaited.

The waiting room, visible through the smeared sliding glass doors, was a tableau of escalating anxiety. A young mother bounced a restless toddler on her knee, her eyes darting nervously towards the triage desk, a silent plea for information in their depths. An elderly man with a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his head sat hunched over in a plastic chair, his face a roadmap of worry lines. The air in the waiting room hung thick and heavy, a cloying mix of antiseptic and raw fear, punctuated by the occasional, frustrated sigh that spoke volumes of unspoken dread. They didn't see the frantic ballet unfolding behind those closed doors, the life-and-death decisions being made in split seconds, the raw, visceral energy of a system stretched to its breaking point.

It felt like just moments ago, you had managed to coax a distraught teenager out of a full-blown panic attack, her rapid, shallow breaths and racing pulse fueled by pure, unadulterated fear of a phantom heart attack. Before that, it was a belligerent drunk, swinging wildly at anyone who dared to approach, requiring every ounce of your patience and a gentle yet firm hand to finally gain his cooperation. Each case, each individual, demanded a different kind of focus, a different wellspring of emotional and physical energy, leaving you feeling like a tightly wound spring threatening to snap.

As you pushed through the heavy swinging doors into the trauma bay, the scene intensified, the air crackling with a raw, visceral energy that made the hairs on your arms stand on end. The trauma team was already a well-oiled machine, each member moving with practiced precision, their movements economical and purposeful. A quick, sweeping glance told you the grim story: multiple injuries, a shocking amount of blood staining the sterile white sheets, the urgent, rhythmic whirring of suction machines battling to keep airways clear. You took a deep, steadying breath, pushing the gnawing fatigue that tugged at the edges of your awareness. Another life, or perhaps multiple lives, hung precariously in the balance, and in this moment, amidst the chaos, that was the only thing that mattered.

But before you could fully immerse yourself in the unfolding trauma, a hand clamped down on your arm, pulling you away from the organized chaos. It was Sarah, a newer nurse whose usual cheerful demeanor was replaced by wide, panicked eyes. "Hey! Can you come take a look at Mr. Wilson in room three? He's refusing his IV, and he's getting really agitated. I can't seem to get anywhere with him."

You let out a silent sigh. You knew the car crash victims were in capable hands for the moment, the experienced trauma team already orchestrating their care with practiced efficiency. Reluctantly, you nodded. "Okay, Sarah, let's go."

You walked down the quieter hallway towards room three, the frantic energy of the trauma bay fading slightly with each step. As you approached the open doorway, the distinct sound of a raised voice reached you. An older man sat propped up in the hospital bed, his face flushed with anger as he argued vehemently with another nurse, who held a saline-filled syringe aloft, looking increasingly frustrated.

You recognized the patient instantly. Mr. Wilson. A local elderly gentleman who was a frequent visitor to the ER, his unmanaged diabetes often landing him back in a hospital bed. He looked in your direction, his eyes, usually twinkling with a mischievous glint, now narrowed with annoyance, watching as you approached the hand sanitizer dispenser and meticulously washed your hands before pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.

"Oh, thank heavens you're here, Nurse," he huffed, his voice still carrying a note of indignation. "These youngsters don't got a clue what they're doing." He shot an accusatory glance at the two other nurses in the room.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly as you stepped closer to the bed. "They're doing their best, Mr. Wilson," you said gently, your tone calm and reassuring. You took the syringe from the other nurse. "Let's get this IV started, shall we?" Your practiced hands made quick work of locating a vein, the insertion smooth and efficient. Mr. Wilson barely flinched. "See? All done."

You shook your head slightly, turning around to grab his chart from the bedside table. "High blood sugar again?" You glanced over the recent lab results, noting the alarming number well over four hundred.

He waved a dismissive hand at you. "Nonsense, Nurse. I'll be right as rain, just like I always am."

You didn't respond immediately, taking a moment to ensure the IV was running smoothly before meeting his gaze. "I'll be back to check on you later, Mr. Wilson. Try to relax."

Hours bled into each other, the relentless tide of patients ebbing and flowing. Finally, as the first hint of dawn painted the sky outside the grimy windows, the ER began to quiet. You managed to steal a precious moment of respite in the cramped nurses' lounge.

Standing near the industrial-sized coffee maker, you pulled out your phone, a small beacon of normalcy in the chaotic day. A message from Frank, sent at the very beginning of your shift, greeted you. He often sent these little digital breadcrumbs – a silly meme, a brief update on his day, the occasional picture of him and your beloved pit bull, Frankie, their goofy faces a welcome distraction during your long, grueling hours. You tucked your phone back into your scrub pocket, the image of Frankie’s slobbery grin a momentary balm. You took the now-full coffee pitcher and poured yourself a much-needed cup, the rich aroma a small comfort.

You sank into a worn chair at one of the small, cluttered tables, barely managing a single, precious sip before the insistent buzz of your pager vibrated against your hip. With a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself to your feet, the brief moment of peace shattered. You headed back out to the bustling nurses' station, managing a tired smile for your coworker who handed you a chart. Your smile instantly froze, your blood running cold as you saw the name scrawled across the top: "Castle, Frank."

Without a word, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs, you walked down the hall and into the designated exam room. The doctor was just hanging up a series of x-rays, the stark white images revealing the sharp break in Frank's arm. Another nurse was gently dabbing at a series of cuts and abrasions on his face and torso.

Frank's head snapped in your direction as the door creaked open, his eyes widening in surprise, then something akin to fear, as he registered the look on your face – a mixture of shock, disbelief, and a dawning anger. He watched, helpless, as the other nurse offered you a small, knowing smile and quietly slipped out of the room.

"You can't just leave me here with him," Frank pleaded, his voice laced with a theatrical desperation that didn't quite mask the underlying anxiety. "Common, babe." He groaned dramatically, leaning back against the pillows.

You didn't say a word, your mind still reeling. You simply set his chart down on the counter with a decisive thud and moved to the sink, the harsh fluorescent light reflecting off the cool metal as you meticulously washed your hands and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, your movements stiff and deliberate. You picked up where the previous nurse had left off, gently cleaning the numerous cuts across his face and abdomen, your touch perhaps a little less gentle than it usually was.

Frank hissed, biting his lip as you carefully cleaned around a particularly deep gash on his side, the edges raw and angry-looking. "Fancy seeing you here," he attempted a weak joke, but instantly stopped when your eyes, usually warm and full of affection, now glinted with a sharp, almost dangerous light as you briefly glared up at him.

You listened in stony silence as the doctor began explaining the next steps, his voice calm and professional. "Alright, Frank, we're going to have to set that bone before we can put a cast on it. Looks like a clean fracture, but it needs to be realigned." He gestured to the x-rays. "We'll give you some local anesthetic for these cuts, and then we'll get started on the arm."

The doctor excused himself to gather the necessary supplies, leaving you alone with a very uncomfortable and apologetic-looking Frank. You picked up a syringe from the medical tray, the needle glinting under the bright lights, stopping just before taking the cap off.

"I've had a real shit day so far," you finally rasped, your voice tight with suppressed emotion. "Do you have any idea what was going through my mind when I saw your name on that chart?" You didn't wait for an answer, your silence hanging heavy in the air.

Frank let out a long, weary sigh, wishing he had just listened to his gut and insisted they not contact you. "I'm sorry, trust me, baby, I didn't mean to worry you." He groaned, shifting uncomfortably on the examination table.

You finally took the cap off the syringe, your movements precise and efficient despite the turmoil churning within you. You swabbed the area around the deep laceration on Frank's side with a cold alcohol wipe. "It's gonna sting," you whispered, your voice barely audible, before carefully pushing the tip of the needle into various points around the wound, injecting the numbing solution. Your chest tightened almost imperceptibly as he occasionally hissed in pain, his free hand instinctively reaching out to grip the sleeve of your scrubs, his knuckles white.

With the local anesthetic administered, you began to meticulously stitch the wound, your movements quick and precise, years of training taking over despite the emotional turmoil. Each careful stitch pulled the edges of the laceration together, closing the angry red gash. Once finished, you applied a clean bandage over the area.

You stood up straight, disposing of the used needle and other medical supplies with a sharp, efficient clink into the biohazard bin. Your back was to Frank as you bent over the sink to wash your hands, the sound of running water filling the brief silence. You heard a low whistle from behind you, a familiar sound that couldn't help but tug the corner of your lips into a small, involuntary smile.

You turned around, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. "Incredibly unprofessional, Mr. Castle," you quipped, a hint of your usual playful tone finally breaking through the tension.

"Can't help that my nurse looks incredibly hot in his scrubs," Frank hummed, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

You walked back over to the side of the bed, leaning down to press a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. Frank’s hand, no longer gripping the mattress, came to rest gently on the small of your back, pulling you a fraction closer as he returned the kiss. You quickly pulled away when the door creaked open again, the doctor returning with a tray of casting materials.

He simply shrugged, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "If kissing your boyfriend at work was illegal, half the staff here would be unemployed by now."

You couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally breaking the tension. You walked around the bed to help the doctor, a familiar camaraderie settling between you as you assisted him in the procedure.

The doctor explained the process as he worked, his tone calm and matter-of-fact. You carefully stabilized Frank's arm above and below the fracture site as the doctor applied traction and expertly manipulated the bone back into alignment. Frank winced but remained relatively still, his gaze locked on yours. The sickening thunk of the bone resetting made you flinch, but relief washed over Frank’s face. The doctor then carefully wrapped Frank's arm in layers of padding and wet plaster, molding it into a supportive cast.

Once the cast was securely in place, the doctor gave Frank instructions on how to care for it and left the two of you alone again. You stayed behind in the quiet exam room with Frank, pulling a couple of warm blankets over him and double-checking that his IV was running smoothly. He watched your every move, his eyes soft and full of affection. Just as you were about to leave, his hand reached out, his fingers gently closing around your wrist.

You turned back, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his lips. "I'll take you home once my shift's over," you murmured against his mouth. "Just get some rest for now."

Frank kissed you back, his grip on your wrist loosening slightly. "I love you," he whispered, his voice thick with exhaustion and perhaps a touch of lingering pain medication.

"I love you too," you replied softly, stroking his cheek. "But please, for the love of all that is holy, don't show up at my work again unless it's to bring me food." You managed a weak joke, and Frank chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that eased some of the tightness in your chest.

[v6quewrlds]

Joe Burrow + Fluff/Angst ❤️‍🔥

imagine being joe's gf at ohio state.

In the dimly lit living room of a cramped college apartment, your laughter filled the air as you watched Joe and his friends engage in a heated round of Madden. The laughter of the girls contrasted with the cackling of the guys as they trashed talked each other's virtual football skills. You leaned back into Joe's warmth, your head resting comfortably on his broad shoulder. His arms wrapped around your waist, locking you in place against him as he held his controller tightly, eyes glued to the TV screen.

One of the girls handed you the dwindling blunt and you took a slow drag. You could feel the tension building in Joe's shoulders as you balanced the blunt between your thumb and index finger, you knew he was getting ready to make a big play. The boys went quiet, anticipating the outcome, and then erupted in cheers and disappointed complaints as Joe scored a touchdown. He leaned back, smugly grinning, and kissed your cheek before turning his attention back to the game.

You smiled to yourself as you held the blunt up to Joe's mouth for him to take a hit. His eyes remained on the game, but his expression grew serious as he took it from you. He inhaled deeply, the tip glowing brightly before he released it from his mouth. The smoke curled around your friends, adding a layer of comfort to the already cozy atmosphere. You felt his shoulders relax slightly as his jaw unclenched, the smoke escaping through his lips like second nature.

“You want more?” you asked softly, turning a bit to look at Joe.

“Nah, I’m good for now.” He turned down another hit, his gaze still on the game. You handed the blunt off to the next eager participant and turned your attention back to Joe. His eyes flickered over to yours, and you saw the flicker of lowered inhibitions as his high began to set in.

The conversation grew louder as the game continued, and the topic of football inevitably shifted toward Joe's future at Ohio State. One of the guys, Shawn, a high-school friend of Joe's, brought the topic up with a nonchalance that drew a silent frown out of you. “Joe, you really think you're gonna stay?” he asked, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

Joe simply shrugged, his thumbs never faltering on the controller. “I don't know, man,” he replied, his voice thick with the smoke he'd just inhaled. “It's kind of up in the air right now.”

You sat up straighter. This was news to you. You thought the two of you had put the transfer talk to rest after his spring game last week. The last time you talked about it, Joe mentioned that it wasn't super realistic for him to start over at a new program with only two more years of eligibility left. But here he was, casually talking about it with his friends like it was something he was still seriously considering.

You held back the urge to press him on the matter right there. Instead, you reached for your phone to pretend you were scrolling through social media while your mind raced with questions. The others around you kept talking about it, asking Joe questions about the rumors, but you tried your best to keep your cool.

“What schools you lookin' at?” one of the other guys, Corey, asked, leaning back into the couch cushions.

Joe took a sip of his drink before answering. “Couple of options. Maybe UC or LSU. Gettin' a visit from Coach O soon, so we'll see what that's all about.”

You felt your stomach drop. The University of Cincinnati was still in Ohio, but LSU? That was a whole different world, a place where you would be a fourteen-hour drive away from him. You tried to keep your face neutral, not wanting to make a scene, but your body grew rigid against Joe's chest involuntarily. The conversation around you grew more animated as the guys threw out more names of schools with storied football programs. Your mind was racing, trying to understand what had changed since your last talk about his future.

As the conversation switched to a different topic, you couldn't help but feel a growing knot in your stomach. The room's chatter became a distant buzz as you processed the potential reality of Joe leaving Ohio State, and with it, the comfort of your relationship. You stared at the TV screen, watching the players run across the digital field, but your thoughts were a million miles away.

You released a breath before turning to whisper in Joe's ear, “Transferring is still on the table?” Your voice held a hint of accusation, but Joe's eyes remained on the game.

“Yeah, I know I said it wasn’t realistic, but things have changed a little,” Joe murmured, his eyes flicking to yours briefly before returning to the game. “My spring game put other schools on notice, and it’s not like Urban’s made a decision yet. Dwayne and J.T. are still in the mix, and I can’t just sit here and wait around, you know?”

You nodded, your throat tight. You knew Joe was a talented player who wanted - and deserved - more than just riding the bench, waiting in the wings for his big break. But you hadn't anticipated it would happen this way. Your heart was racing, and you took a sip of your drink to calm yourself. You didn’t want to argue in front of his friends, so you leaned back into his embrace, trying to keep your feelings in check. As if extending an olive branch, Joe's arms tightened around you, his chin coming to rest on the top of your head.

[theastralsage]

Blurred Lines

❤︎ tags and content: characters are aged up, dubcon, party, drinking, first times ❤︎ author note: re-uploaded from ao3

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @/omi.resources ©2025 theastralsage do not repost, copy, translate, or modify

In the few years you'd gotten to know Hitoshi, there were three things of which you were certain. One- he was a lot more relaxed when he was around people he genuinely liked. Two- He was easy to get along with. His cold expression and blunt nature were only toward people he wasn't close to. And three- you were so into him it hurt. You became friends with the purple haired boy back in the first year of school at UA. In fact, you and your classmate Kaminari were among the first two to congratulate him for transferring into the hero studies course. When the two of you heard he'd be joining 1A, you were ecstatic. Naturally, the three of you bonded rather quickly, turning into 1A's second trio. As it was, Toshi wanted to prove himself to Midoriya, and wherever the green haired boy went, so did Todoroki and Bakugo. Lazy afternoons were spent just the three of you smoking in Denki's dorm, complaining about Bakugo's latest bullshit or whatever creepy thing Mineta would say to you. At times you'd even sneak out past curfew and enjoy some time with your friends. Before you knew it, you were in your third and final year of UA. Nerves raked through your stomach like coals over a fire. You tried to reason with yourself. "It's because this is our last first day of classes, that's why. Calm down yn." But deep down, you knew there was more and you couldn't deny it forever. Denki finally mustered up the courage to confess to Kyoka Jiro, and they'd messaged the group chat to announce they'd started dating. Turns out, over the summer many of your friends started linking up. Kiri and Mina... Chaco and Midoriya. Shit, even shy Shoto managed to get with Yaomomo. Really... That only left you, Hitoshi, Bakugo and Sero as the resident single friends. Sero wasn't even interested in dating, he was enjoying his casual flings, and Bakugo, well... He'd made it abundantly clear no one in UA lived up to his expectations of love. Denki and Mina were the only two to know how you felt about Hitoshi, drunkenly spilling the beans to them one night last spring. But he'd been your best friend for almost three years now... He'd have made a move on you already if he was into you, wouldn't he? You shoved the thoughts from your already racing mind and finished buttoning up your blazer, ready to get to 3A and see what your new schedule would be. Maneuvering through the hoarde of students filtering through the doors of the academy, you saw your electric blonde friend waving eagerly at you from the doorway of homeroom. "yn!" He called excitedly. "Hurry up and get in here before Aizawa returns. We wanna show you something." Your interest piqued, you sped up and entered the room. A few of your classmates sat huddled around Yaomomo's desk. "... and we could all meet together at the common rooms before heading to my house," Momo finished with a smile. "Oh, hey yn! I was just discussing throwing a back to school party this weekend at my parents house. They're out of town and said I could have our class over. You in?" Cocking your head to the side, you shrugged. "Yeah, sounds good! I'd love to." Momo flashed her pearly whites and handed you a note with the rest of the details on it. You pocketed it with a thank you and hurried to your seat next to the explosive Bakugo.

The days passed by painfully slow as you counted down the moments until the party. Both you and Toshi decided to head over to Momo's together so neither of you would show up alone. After the last bell rang for the day Saturday, you eagerly rushed to your dorm and showered, getting yourself all ready for the night. 

Before long, a rushed knock could be heard from the doorway. Heart racing, you opened it to see your best friend standing there. Feeling heat rise to your cheeks, you turn away quickly, muttering something about grabbing your bag before rushing out into the hallway. 

God damn, he looked amazing.  His crisp white button up was left unbuttoned toward the top, with the sleeves rolled up to frame muscular arms. White really was his color -- it just worked in compliment to his beautiful lavender hair, which was still beautifully tousled in a way you achingly wanted to run your hands through. It hurt to look at him for too long. 

The two of you walked in peaceful silence, the heat still creeping up your neck from your thoughts. 

"You okay?" Toshi's voice snapped you out of your daydreams. 

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, sorry." You cleared your throat, and turned to give him a smile. "Just lost in thought. I can't believe we're on our final year of school already, and then we'll be real heroes." 

Hitoshi hummed in response. "Time flies when you're having fun, I guess. Oh look, we're here."

You turned your eyes up to the monstrous house now invading your line of sight. There was a heavy bass blaring from what you could hear. 

"Jiro probably has the aux cord," you giggled to yourself. Giving Toshi a nudge with your shoulder, you gestured toward the door. "Come on, let's go inside." 

As soon as the door opened, you were hit with a wall of sound. Music blasted through big speakers, and party goers were sprinkled all over, mingling and catching up. 

Toshi made his way toward the kitchen.

"I'll grab us a few drinks," he called to you, already retreating into the room. You looked around and whistled. Momo's house really was a fucking mansion. The stories did nothing to downplay her wealth and you could understand why. Beside you, a couple who were clearly drunk had already begun sloppily making out. 

"Here," Toshi's voice came from behind you. He handed you a red cup filled with some liquid. Bringing it to your lips, you tasted it. 

"Jeez, what the hell is this shit?" you spluttered. "It tastes like diesel fuel."

Hitoshi laughed. "Yea, well its strong. And by the looks of it, we're gonna need it to get through this night." Following his line of sight, you saw the couple from a few moments ago groping at each other. 

"I agreed to come to a party, not a god damn orgy," you muttered. 

Turns out, mostly everyone drinking came to hook up, you noticed. Room after room were filled with bodies close together, tasting the alcohol on the others lips and hands exploring various body parts. You were certain you were beet red at this point, matching the stupid cup you were nursing. 

It was bad enough you were single, but also a virgin? Here? This was almost too embarrassing.

The last straw for you came in the form of a half-naked Katsuki Bakugo and some red haired girl from the hero course in the bathroom, all over each other. The Katsuki "that love shit sucks" Bakugo, with a girl. You apologized profusely, and ran to the nearest empty bedroom you could find to wait out your humiliation until it was time to leave. 

Every photo you saw on Instagram was filled with selfies from the party. It would be the talk of UA for the next few weeks, you knew that for a fact. It was almost too much. Every text you'd sent the rest of your friends were still unread. Most of them you'd seen hooking up with their partners or just generally drunk and all over the place, phone long since been discarded. 

"Yn, what are you doing in here?" You turned your eyes toward the door to see Hitoshi, standing in the door way holding his own red cup. His eyes flashed an emotion you couldn't quite place. 

"I could ask you the same thing. Are you... drunk?" You asked him, motioning for him to sit down. 

Toshi obliged, sitting next to you. "Nah, just kinda annoyed if I'm bein' honest. Kaminari told me you were in here. Why are you in here all alone?" 

You hesitated, wondering if you should even tell him about leaving. In the end, you decided to be honest.

"This 'party' is a joke," you scoffed. "I'm stupidly uncomfortable. I'm tipsy, none of our friends are even talking to me because they're so busy with their partners and--"

"Yn, are you jealous?" Toshi interrupted your tirade. You looked at him for a moment. 

"Jealous? No. I don't know, maybe? It's just. Why invite a chronically single person like me to a party like... this," you replied, gesturing toward the doorway. "Everyone has someone, and I'm the literal only virgin here and I don't know why it's bothering me tonight, or why I'm even telling you any of this." 

Toshi laughed humorlessly. "You're not the only one, yn. But why does it bother you so much?" 

You felt your cheeks tinge pink. "I- I don't know. I guess maybe I thought I'd find someone by now, or something. It's dumb, Toshi. I think it's that awful alcohol you gave me, but it's just FOMO, I think." 

He cocked an eyebrow at you. "Fomo? Over what, exactly? Losing your virginity?" 

The bluntness in his question caused you to choke on air. You looked at him, flushing. 

"Jeez, when you say it like that you make me sound desperate." 

He ran his hands through his hair, silent, as if he were lost in thought. A few beats went by before he replied. 

"If you're really that keen on losing it, I.. I can help you. That is, if you want." 

For a second your heart stopped. There's no way he actually said that. Right?

"I- come again?"

Hitoshi leaned back on the bed, laying with his hands behind his head. "I said, if you really are that upset about being a virgin, yn, I'll help you with it. You're my best friend, and I don't like that you're upset." 

Heat flooded your entire body. He definitely said what you thought he did. 

"But..." You tried to reason with him. You really did. The last thing you expected was for him to shut you up with a kiss.

His lips on yours deepened as he pulled you into him, hands running through your hair. Pulling away for a moment, you looked at him. 

"Are you sure about this, Toshi?" 

Hitoshi made his way over to the door, locking it. When he turned around, he was smirking at you. 

"When have I ever done anything I wasn't sure about?" He crossed the room again and was on top of you in an instant. His lips were inches from yours. "I'll stop if you want me to, though. But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't dreamt about this before."

You shook your head fervently, hardly daring to believe this was really happening. "Please don't stop." 

Toshi smirked again, this time into your lips. His tongue laced around your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth to let him in. In response, his hips thrust into you. You could feel him growing hard, sending electricity through your body. 

"Your clothes are getting in my way," he murmured. He knelt up, and pulled your shirt with him. You watched as Toshi's eyes grew wide upon looking over you. 

"Fuuuuck," he breathed. "You're so beautiful." He gently unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down slowly, not taking his eyes off you even for a second. 

Suddenly, you felt shy. 

"Don't hide yourself, baby girl," he said. "You're fucking perfect. I can't believe you've been this gorgeous this entire time and I had no clue." 

Hitoshi moved his lips down your body, pausing as he got to your chest. He unclasped your bra and removed it, turning red at the sight of you fully bare for him.

He gently took your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently. You felt your core heat up at the sensation, and felt your back slightly arch up into him. 

Toshi moved his hands down lower, while he kept sucking on your chest. When his fingers found its destination, he slowly moved. 

"Jesus, yn, you're soaked right now," his voice almost sounded shaky. "All for me?" 

Your answer came out as a breathy moan. "Hah... yeah. You have no idea... the effect you have on me." 

His eyes locked with yours. "Wait... really?"

"Yeah, I guess now's not the... mmmm... greatest time to tell your best f- friend that you're really into... oh fuck.... them, but here we are." 

Hitoshi smirked. "Sorry, what was that yn? I haven't even started on you yet, and you can barely form a sentence." 

He slowly inserted a second finger into you, pumping slowly. You couldn't help but rock your hips into it, shocked at how lewd the sounds coming from you were. 

"Fuck," you moaned. "Please, Toshi.... don't tease me like this." 

He lowered himself down between you, gently kissing the fleshy part of your thighs. "I'm not trying to tease you, babe. I'm trying to get you nice and ready for me. Assuming you still want me to fuck you?" 

"You... assumed right, you ass," you whined. "Hurry. You're killing me."

He laughed, and began licking at you. "Patience, yn. It's my first time too, you know." 

You closed your eyes, enjoying the delicious sensations you were feeling. The way he was devouring you had you in disbelief that he'd never done this before. Your thighs began shaking from the pleasure, and Toshi pulled away suddenly, wiping his face. 

"Why'd you stop," you groaned. "I... I'm so close." Looking up with lidded eyes, you noticed him quickly removing his own clothes. Your breath hitched as you admired his own bare form.

"I could tell," he chuckled. "I really can't hold back right now, so I'm just going to take you. Tell me if you need me to stop."

The tip of his cock swelled, and gently rubbed up against your folds, causing you to moan in anticipation. He gently pushed into you, slowly filling you up. 

"Alright baby girl, I'm inside. Tell me when I can start moving, okay?" 

"Y-you can move. Please move," you begged. "You feel so good." 

Toshi slowly started thrusting, each time he bottomed out you moaned out in ecstasy.

"Jesus... christ, yn. You're so fucking tight. Holyshit." He thrust in deeper, causing you to clamp around him tightly. You felt the pressure in your core building up again, and with each thrust it only got stronger. 

"Toshi... I'm so close. Please don't stop," you moaned in his ear. He responded by slamming into you faster, barely pulling his cock out before rutting back into you. 

"Those sounds, yn, you're driving me crazy," he replied. "Cum for me, please. I need to hear the sounds you make as you cum on me." The thought was so lewd, and yet, it did the trick for you. You felt the pressure continue to build as he fucked you as hard as he could, until you came undone for him, loudly moaning his name.

It wasn't long after that he reached his peak and pulled out of you quickly, spraying your stomach with thick, white strands of cum. 

"Fuck," he panted. "That was better than I could've imagined." 

Toshi propped himself up on his elbow and looked at you. "Are you okay?" 

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah. I just.. did that just happen?" 

He looked at you, amused. "I couldn't let that opportunity go to waste. I've been trying to figure out how to make a move on you for so long, god damn it. I don't know if it was the alcohol or what, but it just felt like I couldn't pass it up."

A blush crept across your face. You took your clothes and began to put them back on, using Toshi's undershirt as a clean up rag. "So that was it, then? Was that just sex to you?" 

His eyes widened at the insinuation. "What? No! God, yn, I'm head over heels in love with you. I just didn't think it was right to say it during sex." He grabbed your face, studying your eyes with worry. "I've been in love with you since I met you. I would've preferred to tell you before we slept together, but it seems that it wasn't in the cards for us that way."

You turned to kiss his fingers gently, before looking back up at him with glistening eyes. "Holy shit... I love you, too. I've loved you since I first met you. How were we so fucking oblivious?" 

The two of you began laughing, reminiscing about all of the signs you'd both missed and realizing that this entire time, the blurred lines of friendship and love were never really blurred at all. By the end of the night, you'd fallen asleep in his dorm to the feeling of back rubs and promises of the future. Maybe it was a good thing you went to the party after all.

[x3nawr1tes]

★RULER OF MY HEART★- ch. 2

“Tabito- what-“

“Ya said ya wanted to get out, so im here,” he smirks

“you didnt have to,” You sigh as you look at him. “Plus- i dont have a helmet”

His bike glistened behind him. “i have yours” karasu hands you your helmet. you were confused.

“Wait- how the hell do you have this-?”

“broke in”

“tabito!” “sorry~” he sheepishly says. He obviously didnt feel bad. “i shouldnt have given you a spare…”

youre already regretting this decision. “Just let me know if youre going into my apartment…”

“fine, fine. Just get on.” Tabito hops on the bike while you follow suit. You wrap your arms around his waist. This was nothing new- you've done it many times before. As you get on, you can feel the stares of your peers around you. Not that you care. You've been the subject of rumors for as long as you can remember.

"I really should be studying..."

“Yeah, you can study biology. At my place" Tabito winks at the side mirror and you can feel your face heating up.

Your face cools down as you deadpan, "I major in pharmaceuticals. What the fuck will I do? Test out drugs on you? And do you stalk my Twitter-? scratch that- you clearly do. Creep"

"I'm thoughtful"

"Still a creep. Let's get out of here." People are staring and I don't like it, you think as tabito finally starts the engine of the bike and drives you to your place. The drive is nice- the scenery green as ever in the spring. You feel the wind blowing against your body, but it stops as soon as tabito parks in front of your apartment complex.

You hop off the bike, your hands leaving his waist. “bye tabito” you wave. “…”

“you can come in. Want me to order something?” You sigh.

he immediately hops off and follows you to your apartment. The cozy atmosphere draws you in as the two of you walk in. Tabito sits next to you on the couch as you lean on the pillows. You pull out your phone.

“what do you wanna doordash?” “you decide”

“no you”

“fine- ramen-!” You pull up the first restaurant you see on the app. Its rated 4.7 stars- but at this point you dont give a fuck. Anything is better than studying. You order first and practically shove the phone in Tabitos’s hands and he places his order.

you input your credit card information and without skipping a beat you say, “you owe me”

“huh?!?!”

“Just kidding”

“Good- ‘m your best friend after all~”

“dont make me change my mind…”

About 40 minutes later you get the ramen from the restaurant. The smell wafts in the air and youre practically drooling over the tender meat and flavorful broth (at least thats what you think it is). As youre about to dig in, tabito takes the lame plastic container and transfers the dish to a bowl you have.

“what are you doing? Im hungry” Its evident through your tone.

“Dont get cranky. Let me just…”

you swear an hour passes as Tabito neatly arranges the ramen to look presentable and then takes a picture.

“what the hell are you? An influencer?”

“Ah- ya dont need to nag, y’ know. Im just making it more presentable. I also added furikake and nori.”

He pushed the bowl to you. “Eat up”

“Presentable my ass. Im fucking hungry” You can see tabito’s lit screen next to you. Hes posting the picture to twitter and tagging you.

“Twitter addict”

“shut up, y/n. You post more than me. ‘Im not touching twitter with a ten foot pole!’ My ass”

He has a point. “…”

you can see tabito’s smug smirk as he has the last word. You’ll get him back for this. Right now, ramen. The broth fills your mouth, the flavors hitting your tongue. You were right- the meat was tender. You make a mental note of the place- maybe you’ll go there in person with kiana or something.

“im bored-“

“The remotes over there. I wanna take a shower”

“arent u supposed to be a good host? Entertain me, y/n-!”

“I can hardly do that.”

A thought comes to your head. “Anyways- are you going to be racing today? I think ima go today. I need a break”

He brushes your question off, “just admit youre procrastinating. I saw your discord- you were playing Persona for AT LEAST four hours”

“Yeah but i went to the library-“

“Still-!”

“Yeah, yeah” you say bitterly. “Are you going though? I dont wanna bring kiana- shes gonna give me an earful. And i dont want to hear shidou yap about busting”

Karasu giggles a bit, “if yer going, yeah”

“Mhh… alright” you continue slurping up your ramen

~~~~~~~~~~~

You step into the old, rusty metal factory. The cool night air turns into a cement like scent. Its a feeling you cant describe, but still enjoy. You park your bike in a corner and wait to race. You can see tabito in the distance, his smile unwavering as hes waving.

you look around and see the other racers. Shidou’s here. Thats annoying. The manwhore eita is too… chigiri isnt too bad- and there are some other guys you dont really know. A redhead and some guy with an ahoge. Not that you care. You turn on your heels and face Karasu

“if i win, ramens on you all of next week-!”

“Like you will- if i win…” he thinks for a moment

Karasu and you, despite being childhood friends, are extremely competitive. Whether it be academics or something silly, you both wouldnt let the other win.

“if i win, i want a kiss. Right on the lips”

“Why? Ew- no”

Worth a shot… “fine. I also want ramen for all of next week.”

“Deal!” You both say in unison.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Three, two, one!!!” The flag girl says.

the whir of motorcycle engines could be heard. All the racers were ready and sped up, trying to to out do the person in front of them. You and karasu are neck and neck at the front as usual. Trying to scan the area for shortcuts, Tabito beats you by faking a turn left and turning right. You slam your brakes, which causes you to fall behind. Damn.

You quickly recover and catch up to some people. You do some calculations in your head… If Tabito went that way at approximately this speed, he should be ahead by a bit. I could probably get someone to distract him… but thats boring. Knowing Tabito, hes probably getting cocky and slowing down… You speed faster than you are right now, if thats possible.

which it is! Because youre now neck and neck… not for long. You fall behind Tabito and start tailgating him. Approaching a corner, you both turn. Youre now slightly in front of him- maybe an inch. The wind around you is nice and cold- perfect for a moment like this where you beat him. As you approach the other end, you gain more distance- but then Tabito gains it back. Its a huge struggle, but as you cross the finish line first- you know its worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you are both leaning against the rusty old walls, watching the other racers that are going after you guys. Theyre getting ready, Some of them clearly newbies.

“anyways, i want ramen. Lets go- theres a good 24hr place around here” you strut toward toward your motorcycle. That ramen was a must have.

“big back”

“Shut the hell up. Let a girl eat”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“mmh!!! This is so good!!!” You say as you slurp down the firm noodles. From the moment you went in, you were immediately comforted by the aura of the place. Its been a while since you were last here, but nothing changed. The dim lighting and cozy seating welcomed you just as it had months ago

“Whats up with you and ramen? We literally had it a few hours ago…” karasu grumbles. He ordered an assorted barbecue plate filled with with kalbi ribs and katsu. As soon as he says that, you lean over from across the table to where hes sitting and grab a piece of meat. As you plop it into your mouth, you taste the love and care that went into making the dish. Its so good, you take another piece.

Tabito sounds a bit bitter, “thats my fuckin food-“

“Might i remind u who won?”

“and? You coulda asked…”

“Thats fair. Sorry about that. Anyways, can i have another piec-“ before you respond, tabito takes noodles from your bowl. "-hey!"

Tabito says matter of factly, "You stole first"

"You lost the race-"

"Yeah, yeah. Shut yer mouth up"

You both laugh, the warm lighting from above the two of you illuminating your faces. As you're laughing, you can't help but get struck with a thought. 1) tabito looks... kind of good like this. When did that happen? Oh well, I guess it's the aging. And 2) is this a date? You don't know why these thoughts even came into your head. You guys have hung out together for years, so why now are these thoughts intruding your mind. After all, tabito is your childhood friend... right?

FUN FACTS!

•y/n MIGHT like ramen

•y/n doesnt think karasu is serious when hed flirting with her (he is)

•karasu is trying to get y/n to see him as an adult- not some kid.

•the redhead during the race was sae

A/n: cant believe i made it to the second chapter and finished it! Btw, this was NOT beta read… im rlly happy :) also, this definitely was not my best work. My writing is pretty rusty, but i guess this fic can be practice. Lmk if u guys like the writing segments or twitter posts!

navigation

CH. 1 || CH. 2 || CH. 3

TAGLIST: @fishii28 @mixolya @narcjsistx @sky-casino @aztec-ahuizotil @morgyyyyyyy

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

This is one of the big reasons we should all be masking in public.

By Jan Greene

Kaiser Permanente study supports COVID-19 vaccination of children, pregnant mothers

An analysis of unvaccinated children who had COVID-19 between 2020 and 2022 found they were more likely to be hospitalized if they were 6 months old or younger, and more likely to be treated in an intensive care unit at ages 12 to 17. The study was published in the journal Influenza and Other Respiratory Viruses.

The overall risk of hospitalization from COVID-19 remained relatively low, the authors said, but if children were hospitalized, they could face serious outcomes. Most of those admitted to the ICU had no comorbid conditions that might have made their symptoms worse.

“When you look at children who are being hospitalized, we see particular concerns for teens who may end up in the ICU or need oxygen, and infants who are too young to be vaccinated,“ said lead author Ousseny Zerbo, PhD, a research scientist with the Kaiser Permanente Division of Research. “Inoculation against COVID-19 is still an important childhood vaccination.”

The study examined records for more than 1.1 million children who were members of Kaiser Permanente Northern California between 2020 and 2022. The researchers found 423 children hospitalized for COVID-19 during that time and analyzed trends within the group. The children were all unvaccinated against COVID-19.

They found babies 6 months and younger had the highest incidence of hospitalization. There is no COVID-19 vaccine available for this age group, though research shows a mother’s vaccination against COVID-19 during pregnancy can protect the baby.

“Previous research has shown that a mother’s vaccination can transfer to her baby while she is pregnant,” Zerbo said. “The risk of hospitalization for an infant can be reduced so much by getting that done during pregnancy.” However, vaccination rates in pregnancy remain low — the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention said the average was 13% in spring 2024.

The risk of ICU admission was highest among the teenaged patients. Overall, 20.3% of the hospitalized children were admitted to the ICU, but admission was 36.1% among ages 12 to 17.

Most (91.8%) of the pediatric ICU patients with COVID-19 had no comorbidities — unrelated diseases or conditions that might make them sicker or more vulnerable to COVID.

While COVID-19 variants have been viewed as less likely to lead to hospitalization in the population overall as time has gone on, this study actually found later variants to result in higher rates of hospitalization among children. Among infants 6 months old and younger, the incidence of hospitalization for COVID-19 was 7 per 100,000 person-months during the pre-Delta variant period, 13.3 per 100,000 during the Delta period, and 22.4 per 100,000 during the Omicron period.

Despite evidence of pediatric hospitalization with COVID-19, vaccination rates in children have remained low. Just 6% of children ages 6 months to 4 years were up to date with COVID-19 vaccine in spring 2024, the CDC reports.

The study also found inequity by race or ethnicity in health outcomes among hospitalized unvaccinated children; Black and Hispanic children had higher risk of hospitalization than white children.

The study was funded by the National Institutes of Health and Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Additional co-authors were Nicola P. Klein, MD, PhD, Julius Timbol, MS, John R. Hansen, MPH, Kristin Goddard, MPH, Evan Layefsky, BA, Pat Ross, BA, and Bruce Fireman, MA, of the Division of Research Vaccine Study Center; and Dao Nguyen, MD, and Tara L. Greenhow, MD, of The Permanente Medical Group.

Study link: onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/irv.70022

[praxcrown5]

Unhinged Cars or Planes Headcanon Wednesday: Sheriff

Been wanting to gush about my beloved donut car for a while, now. Enjoy!

-Sheriff's full name is Sheriff Royce Campbell (Factory Designation M8C1949255CU09281934). He is the oldest of two children sired to Sergeant Henry Campbell and Maryanne Elizabeth Campbell nee Sheetwelder. He was manufactured on September 28, 1934 at the Ford Factory in Detroit, Michigan, and was modeled in the likeness of an Old World, 1949 Mercury Eight two-door coupe.

-Most everyone in his family is a cop or works for the police/FBI in some capacity.

-Sheriff grew up in Charlotte, North Carolina, and he enrolled in the Charlotte Police Academy when he turned nine, just like his father.

-He received the Honor Graduate Award in 1945 for his academic acumen, high level of proficiency with a firearm, and his technical driving skills. He was hired by the Charlotte City Police Department almost immediately thereafter, with his father serving as his FTO.

-He was recruited into a revenuer task force in 1947 under the command of Captain Lorence Camber where he would achieve the rank of Corporal.

-For reasons unknown he was demoted back to officer status and transferred to Carburetor County, Arizona in 1949 where he served as a deputy under Sheriff Randy Coldweld. Coldweld's way of policing was unlike anything Sheriff encountered in Charlotte. He fully believed that empathy and compassion were FAR more effective at controlling crime than fear, and he worked bumper to bumper with Stanley and Lizzie to make sure that the residents of Radiator Springs had access to affordable food, housing and education.

-Coldweld was forced to retire for medical reasons in 1950. A special election was held that year, and Sheriff was elected to replace him.

-He only keeps in touch with his brother, having been disowned by his late parents shortly before moving to Radiator Springs.

-Sheriff knew Doc's true identity--having figured it out pretty early on in their friendship. He never let on because he respected Doc's privacy, though he came clean after the tie-breaker race.

-Despite his conservative upbringing, Sheriff is bisexual, though he prefers male company. He and Doc have been in a relationship since 1958; sort of a best friends with benefits situation

-While working for the CCPD, he had a pair of .378 H&H Magnum rifles mounted to his undercarriage. He swapped them out for parking boots when he became the sheriff of Radiator Springs

-He loves Lightning like a son

[fairyberries]

When you use transference, Aoi mentions finding it romantic. Would love to see a little drabble about her and a fem Drifter's first time going through the transference together and effectively becoming one. Probably a bit of a trip doing it with a proper person instead of a non-sentient 'frame, especially one that can talk (unlike Umbra).

"Aoi..." Drifters voice is soft against the other woman's neck, like a warm duvet on a winter night, "Please?"

Aoi smiles and the skin around her eyes crinkle in a familiar way, it pulls on the drifters heartstrings and she knows she's fucked. "Oh my dearest flower, when you ask so nicely, how am I supposed to say no? Come here. Let's go slowly, I want to cherish it."

A deeper blush emerges on Drifter's face and Aoi can't help but giggle at the reaction, "Oh, you're so cute, love. You don't have to be embarrassed, who knows, I might like it?"

Drifter takes a steadying breath and cuddles closer to Aoi's chest in the bed, holding her tightly she starts to initiate transference. She goes slowly, melding their fingertips together until their palms connect and her limbs start to phase through the woman's. Next the arms and Aoi can't help but giggle at the ticklish feeling as Drifter molds their bodies together. Soon they're both chest to chest as Drifter leans in to kiss Aoi, a sweet passionate and quick action as they finalize their connection.

Drifter fully within Aoi, she takes a moment to breathe through the woman's lungs and see through her lover's eyes. The bed still dipped where she had been laying moments ago, she raises one of her hands up, finely inspecting the details of metal work dancing along the skin and smiling.

"It's so warm, like a hug, Aoi. You feel so peaceful and clear, the metal like water flowing through your bones upon a river. This is... magnificent. You make me feel powerful, my love." The voice sounds akin to her partner though twisted for once it's coming from her own mouth.

Aoi's pulse races at the affection and it makes her bristle with pride, "You get to feel every beat of my heart, Drifter, keep it safe."

Drifter hums, her own heart melting, "How does it feel?"

"Full-" Aoi laughs, "Not like that. But, let's say.. like Sol's warmth, on a spring day. Weird, though, too. I can feel you, your needs, your wants, your thoughts and memories, I can tell how happy this makes you.”

[dayhair]

dr rants!

the squirrelly, inane edition that leaves you wondering why your eyes loom over certain semicolons and en-dashes [ how self-deprecating, i know 🎀 ]

also .. my first post, a liberating departure from the chains of shifttok

marauders; tell me why sirius black, heir apparent to the noble house of inbreeding, behaves like a broken analog clock — drinking at the sixth hour, and a mental breakdown with the occasional tactless jab when his little hand strikes nine ( i'll admit the metaphor is bizarre because i can't even tell the hour hand from the minute, anywho .. )

sirius black? oh, he invented sarcasm. and ebony locks of hair, chainsmoking ( whilst listening to lana del rey, crying in the shower ), sporadicity & a taste for gryffindor's finest, a bowie-loving werewolf

with him, it's always, "lonnie, i swear to god if you don't leave regulus alone," or, "let's deflower a firewhiskey after divination," no in-between

the insipid crash-outs & tantrums of an old-money dauphin must sound riveting, but a half-blood beauxbatons transfer can only behave so .. cordially; after all, my family's motto does translate to something like, "strike the iron while it's hot," and i'm not sure pulling sirius black's hair back as he [ i don't want to gross you out ] is what my ancestors had in mind whilst stitching gilded threads on our coat-of-arms

so .. do i ghost the anti-hero? i'm sure we'd have way more fun anyway if he was sorted into slytherin, or if i wasn't in his brother's year

gossip girl; serena van der woodsen, silver spring of her family, once said to me, "it's not my world, i just live in it." i'm pretty sure she was drunk, because she's no sylvia plath, no matter how hard she pretends. naïve me, in the dregs of upper east side bacchanals, more or less, teenage debauchery, and affairs on both sides of the tennis court — i'd no idea the roman holidays she was referring to, for death had always taken vacation on mine

picture this: a soirée, a suicide, a suit of cards ( hearts for the ones broken, clubs for the ultraviolence, diamonds for the [ well, we're bourgeoisie, there isn't much else to say ], and spades for my blackened luck )

i won't name-drop, but this ballot triggers easily to the unyielding imagination. let's just say an un-judging breakfast club was left fractured, and now i know to mark my julian calendar for the next time death and his blooded scythe strike

90s fame; how does one recover from the faux-pas, glossy tabloids of la la land? mixed reviews from critics and i questioned my steed in the oscar race, no golden globe nomination ( must they ignore me, so? and i know i could just script it in, but what's the fun in that?? ) and i'd already booked an month-off to st. tropez

a few things that i remember from this era

candid shots of me & heath ledger, drunk & the snl parody skit that followed

rumors of false behind-the-scenes drama, which then spurred into actuality 🤦‍♂️

appearing in britney spear's '.. baby one more time' mtv mv ( i was so nervous dbsndjwa )

i was on nirvana's 4th album cover ( scripted out kurt's death )

".. a pretentious performance that crashes into itself and shatters the film's narrative into something maladroit and unworthy of watching" ( some stupid critic about my acting; they don't know true talent or art. like at all. the movie's already a cult classic here so whatever ig )

oh, tinseltown. you pretend to be as glamorous as the age of beatniks & true cinema, but hollywood really is dead ..!

you've reached the post-script; i'd love to go on-&-on, but sleepiness strikes 💤

a reblog wouldn't hurt, eh? ( please )

ok. i'm done

ta-ta, happy shifting !!

[andrrut13]

Spring Racing Water Transfer Melbourne | Spring Racing Carnival Transfers | MVBirrarung

Travel in comfort to the excitement of Flemington Race Track with Spring Racing Carnival transfers on MV Birrarung. Departures available from NewQuay Docklands and more.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Dodge Challenger R/T

This custom Challenger was originally a Plum Crazy Purple car. It has a Shaker hood TA spoilers and dual mirrors. During its custom build it was fully disassembled and blasted before it was finished in custom PPG paint. The custom 528ci all-aluminum Indy HEMI engine features a Maxx aluminum block Manley rods Wiseco custom dome pistons 426-1 Indy heads with Super Mod porting K-Motion springs and 10-degree titanium keepers. The engine is fed by a 950cfm Holley Ultra HP carburetor through a port-matched Indy 426-2 intake. It?s also equipped with an Indy Maxx oil pump and oil pan custom 24-gallon aluminum fuel cell with a Holley racing fuel pump MSD Pro Billet distributor custom 1-1/4 ceramic-coated headers flowing into custom 3 exhaust with X-pipe and ceramic-coated Holly Flo Tec mufflers. A Be Cool aluminum radiator with dual thermostatically controlled fans Meziere high-volume water pump and Indy reverse-flow water pump keeps the engine running cool. Richmond 6-speed manual transmission with a long shifter and McCleod dual disc clutch with Lakewood scattershield transfers the power through a Dennys heavy-duty aluminum metal matrix driveshaft and DTS custom-built Dana 60 rear end with Strange axles. This Challenger features a custom frame and suspension with a full roll cage Aldan coilover shocks and Magnum Force A-arms with 1-1/8? sway bar up front Aldan coilovers out back Modified Competition Engineering engine and mid-plate mounts and full aluminum tubs. Wilwood dual master cylinder and billet disc brakes at all corners provide stopping power to the one-off Boyd Coddington billet wheels and Nitto 555Extreme ZR tires. Additionally this Challenger was equipped with a Painless wiring harness Summit battery disconnect dual batteries mini starter variable speed wipers Electro-life electric windows Halogen headlights and custom driving lights. The restored interior features Legendary leather seats a Rim Blow steering wheel center console full Auto Meter Phantom gauges and tachometer a custom Autosound stereo with 5-disc CD changer Sony Xplod amp and Pioneer Aramid fiber speakers with IMPP cones electric antennae tinted glass and air conditioning. 

[hellfirenacht]

Players Wanted: Session 0

Fic Summary: Various Readers ask to join Hellfire. Eddie Munson x Reader

A new semester meant that Hellfire Club was now open for new members again. It was rare that anyone new joined Hellfire in any permanent capacity during the Spring semester, but not completely unheard of. Grant had shown up in the middle of Spring his freshman year, having been a transfer from outside of Hawkins after all. 

But this wasn’t just any Spring semester, this was the Spring Semester of 1986, baby! This was Eddie’s final year, the finish line, everything that he had worked so damn hard for over the past six years. Nothing was going to stop him, not Higgins, not his dad, not this damn town that was turned against him. 

This was finally going to be his year. 

And with this being his year, Eddie had been working hard on his final campaign. This was going to be his grand finale, one that he had been pouring his heart and soul into over the past few months. The Cult of Vecna. 

Of course, with this being the end of an era for Hellfire Club, Eddie wanted to go out with the best party imaginable. He was going to throw everything he could into this, be as sadistic and hard on his players as he could. They could handle it, they’d been playing with him long enough that he knew exactly what they could handle. His little sheepies weren’t about to back down from a challenge. 

The new semester also meant refreshing club applications for the last time. Normally Eddie didn’t bother, if it wasn’t broke then don’t fix it. The applications had stayed the same over the last few years. HELLFIRE CLUB. ADVENTURERS WANTED. Fill out your name, race, and class and come by the drama storage room on Friday. 

This wasn’t amateur hour though, and Eddie wasn’t here to babysit any new players. For this last campaign, he wanted everyone in his party to be on the same level, same playing field, same knowledge of the rules, so a little tweaking was in order. 

ONLY EXPERIENCED ADVENTURERS!

If he was going to be completely honest with himself, even if someone showed up with minimal knowledge he’d probably still let them in. He needed to train the future leaders of Hellfire how to handle the next generation of Freaks anyway. Jeff wasn’t the most patient with newbies, but he’d have to learn. Gareth was also starting to ask questions about DMing now, and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how Hellfire would fare after Eddie’s graduation. 

If someone showed real interest, then they’d be allowed in. Which brought Eddie to the second new addition to the application. 

*Give this completed form to Eddie Munson in the Hawkins highschool lunchroom 

There. He’d had his share of bogus applicants in the past, just trying to be funny and waste his time. If you were going to join the Freak Show, you were going to show up center stage and ask the Dungeon Master himself. 

Satisfied, Eddie took the stack of applications and set them on the table in the main hall of the high school, next to the other stacks of applications for all the other clubs in school. 

As he turned the corner to head to his first period, he didn’t notice another person pick up the Hellfire Club application... 

Welcome to my mini series! Each chapter will have a different type of Reader asking to join Hellfire club! I am trying to keep it to one type of reader per chapter, so one Shy, one Popular, one Cheerleader, one Freak, etc! However I really want this to be interactive, so either fill out the form and drop it in my inbox or leave a comment to let me know what kind of Reader you want to see, and you’ll get more likely to be picked if you give me more detail! 

-----

Master List

And if you’re thinking “Rachel, don’t you have like, 4 other series you should be working on?” think about other things instead, please. 

Welcome to Hellfire. 

[jessybarnes]

I See You

Pairing - Professor Snape x Student!Reader

Tags - Angst, crying, confessions of love, sneaking out, slight panic attack, and I think that’s it.

Word Count -  684 

Beta - None. All mistakes are my own.

A/N - The reader is 18 in this! This is a repost from my old Tumblr blog. I am in the process of transferring all of my fics over to this one. I hope you enjoy :)

Nights at Hogwarts were often calm. While the rest of the students slept peacefully in your dorm, you sat on the windowsill with your thoughts. It was nearly spring, and even closer to the day when you’d have to say goodbye to the place you practically grew up in. 

You’d miss so many people and things about this castle, but there was one person you’d miss more than anything else. Falling in love with Professor Snape hadn’t been your intention, but it’s what your heart decided. 

Most nights, you would look out across the grounds and let your mind race until you were tired enough to sleep. Other nights, much like this one, you knew it wouldn’t be enough. Quickly and quietly, you slid your shoes on and stepped out into the chilly dungeon corridor. 

Navigating these halls was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, and you managed to get to your destination without using Lumos once. Once you were sure you weren’t followed, you slipped inside and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Unaware that Professor Snape watched you disappear behind the door, your eyes zeroed in on the one thing that brought you peace. The Mirror of Erised sat near the back of the room, and you felt as if you were drawn to it. 

Slowly, you walked up and ran your fingers along the grooves of its frame.  The detail in its design was beautiful, but that wasn’t why you came here. The floor beneath you was cold, but you sat anyway. Your knees were folded up to your chest and your eyes glistened with fresh tears as you took in the sight before you. 

It was you in an embrace. A hand came up to cradle your face as obsidian eyes gazed lovingly into your soul. You were so enraptured by how real it all looked that you didn’t hear the door open behind you.

“I could have you expelled for being out of bed, you know.”

You felt the color drain from your face. Out of all the people to find you in here, why did it have to be him?

“P-Professor Snape! I … I can expl-” 

Instead of taking points away from Y/H, he asked a question you weren’t expecting.

“What do you see?”

You wiped a few stray tears and shook your head.

“You wouldn’t understand…”

Snape crossed his arms, his expression becoming impossibly more impatient.

“The fact that you think I wouldn’t understand only intrigues me more, Y/L/N. Either tell me what you see when you look in that mirror, or I’ll take you to Dumbledore myself.” 

Panic pricked at your skin. There was no way you could tell him, and he’d know if you lied, so you did the only thing you could at that moment. You ran. He called after you, but all you could think of was finding somewhere to hide. A closet caught your eye and you hurried inside, barricading yourself against the back of the door. 

Sobs shook your body and even though you knew the noise would lead him straight to you, nothing could stop them. His deep voice was muffled by the thick wood of the door, but you still heard him clear as day.

“Did you really think you could hide from me in my own potions closet?”

He muttered the unlocking spell and tried to get in, but you pushed back keeping him from entering.

“Professor, please, just … let me go back to my room! Don’t break my heart anymore than it already is!” 

“Y/N! Open the door!”

Snape never called you or any other student by their first name, and that was enough to get you to ease up on the door just enough. He opened it slowly and stepped into your space, his hand tilting your face up to meet his just like in the reflection you saw.

“Tell me, what do you see?”

Your lip quivered as you finally told him your secret. The welfare of your heart now laying completely in his hands. 

“I see you.”

[strawhatsoraya]

GOJO X FEM READER X GETO | SFW WC: 3.4k CW: suggestive language, mentions of bullying, gojo continues to be a little shit, second hand embarrassment, geto suguru just existing, rom com vibes SUMMARY: Gojo Satoru can't seem to stop annoying Y/N, and Y/N unwillingly shares a lollipop with him. Geto Suguru appears like a knight in shining armor, but he has his own feelings to sort through.

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter Two

Every time he’d see you in the halls, there was a lollipop in your mouth.

Your eyes, dull and hard to read, stare at nothing as you lean against the wall. You absentmindedly turn the stick between the tips of your fingers, swirling the sticky sweet against the inside of your cheeks.

He doesn't know why or how it started.

Maybe it began as a whim, or maybe it was an innocent token given by someone Gojo Satoru hadn’t noticed before. Someone he had long forgotten. Although he severely doubted that. He prided himself on his observational skills and on his keen ability to file away personal little tidbits he could manipulate to his favor later.

If someone had given you a lollipop, even as a mere act of kindness to breach past the invisible walls around you, Gojo would have noticed; and he would have definitely remembered. After all, whether he liked it or not, he had developed the uncanny ability to find you in any room without much effort.

You had joined a few weeks into the spring term, a surprise transfer student no one was expecting.

Your introduction to the school had sent everyone into an unnecessary tizzy, as rumors about the reason you had transferred broke out in every corner. Some mentioned bullying as to why you suddenly left your previous school; that it had been so bad you had contemplated doing something reckless. Others mentioned violence, and theft.

The more days passed, the more embellished the stories became.

“You know what I heard?” Shoko spoke out of the corner of her mouth, her voice low and drawn out. It was a habit that drove Suguru crazy. Satoru looks sidelong at him with an amused grin. “I heard she got caught in the teacher’s lounge doing,” she pauses to use her hand and turn it into a fist. Shoko tucks her tongue against her cheek until it bulges, and brings her first to her mouth rhythmically. “You know.”

Suguru sucks his teeth impassively. Gojo finds his reaction infinitely more humorous than Shoko’s far-fetched rumor. He smiles as he leans against the corridor wall, the sun reflecting off his dark sunglasses.

“That’s enough,” Suguru speaks sternly, frowning down at his short haired classmate. He turns to Satoru. “And you too, stop entertaining her!”

“I’m just saying that’s what I heard!” Shoko defends herself as she brings her hands up in defeat. “I didn’t say I believed it.”

“And you’re making it worse by repeating it,” Suguru admonishes. He shakes his head in disbelief, hands deep inside his pockets. There’s a strand of ebony hair that falls away from his bun, gently grazing one eyebrow. Satoru watches it from behind his lenses, suddenly entranced by its movement.

“Relax, Class President.”

Satoru’s voice is jovial once he manages to swallow the thick lump in his throat. His heart races when Suguru directs his frown at him next. His dark eyes, usually kind and understanding, were turning turbulent and unreadable.

“The rumors will die out soon enough. She’s not even in our class. What are you so upset about?”

“You just don’t get it,” he mumbles quietly, sharply turning his face away. Shoko elbows Gojo, and whispers in his ear before snickering–something or the other about a stick being far up where the sun doesn’t shine. Satoru smiles reflexively, he even laughs and leans in but the lump is back in his throat as he notices the flush on Suguru’s cheeks.

His eyes, always kind, and understanding have gone past unreadable. They were searching down the hall for someone that wasn’t standing right in front of him.

It is then you appear around the corner. Your glossy curls framing your face, falling around your shoulders. The sun filtering through the glass is soft when it lands on your hair, and trails down your face. Tucked to a corner of your mouth, is a lollipop that you let dangle there as you cradle books to your chest. Your gaze is distant even as you approach them. You don’t even look at them as you pass them by, and in the moment Satoru sees the beauty mark on your jaw, a memory comes in like a tidal wave, sweeping away every other thought in the current of it.

“Oh,” he exclaims softly, lost within his memories.

He remembers suddenly, the sound of rain, the smell of wet dirt. He remembers your soaked hair clinging to your cheeks, the sound of you crying. It comes in fragments, as you distort the sunlight when you pass by, leaving him in tentative darkness. He shivers remembering that day but sunlight touches his milky skin again when you’re gone.

“You alright?” he hears Suguru ask. Satoru looks away from your retreating form.

“I’m fine,” he assures Suguru. “That’s her?” When Suguru nods, Satoru turns to Ieri. “Shoko-chan. Don’t ever bring up that rumor again.”

“What?” she repeats in disbelief, amazed at Gojo’s sudden change in behavior. “Since when do you care?”

“Since now.”

You always acted like it didn’t bother you. In fact, Gojo wasn’t even sure you were aware of the rumors. Every time he saw you, in the halls, in the cafeteria, as you crossed the courtyard leading to the gated entrance of the school, you always had that distant detached stare.

And there was the lollipop, tucked safely inside a cheek.

Something about your blasé existence bothered him. It gnawed at his conscious, slowly chewing around the edges. The rippled shadow of his resolve provoked him to act impetuously. There’s a tinny voice echoing in his ears, begging him not to do it but he still does. He still reaches for you, gripping the end of your lollipop stick between index and thumb finger.

Satoru pulls it out of your mouth with a ‘pop’, leaving you stupefied as drool oozes from your bottom lip to your chin. You wipe at it slowly with the back of one hand, only to watch him push the used lollipop into his own mouth.

“That’s disgusting,” you tell him flatly, top lip curled, brows raised to better convey the message. You’re trying to bury it between his eyebrows. Maybe if it digs into his brain deep enough, he’d leave you alone for good.

“Only if you think you’re disgusting.” His quip is quick, sharp, lethal. He doesn’t hold back, as if he has no concerns for your ego. Satoru observes you as he hangs his tongue out of his mouth, twisting the lollipop over the surface of it. You watch, your eyebrows slowly drawing together, as the fleshy pink of his tongue becomes blue at the center of it. His stance is languid, the weight of his statuesque figure laying mostly on one foot. Gojo looks down at you sidelong, ivory lashes fluttering seductively.

“What’s up with you, Knee Pads?” he asks you, not bearing the silence between you. “It’s like you’ve been avoiding me or something.”

“What’s up with you?” you retort, unhappy with your bout of stupidity. You blush as you try to steal back the lollipop. Gojo holds steadfast, his neck craning as you tug with more strength. “Also, my name,” you clench your teeth as you pull one more time, freeing your lollipop from Gojo Satoru’s impressively strong lips. Just what kind of suction power a tall freak like him possessed? “Is not Knee Pads.”

He knew that.

Instead of confessing, he resorts to digging into his trouser pockets, curling long fingers around lint like well kept secrets.

“Hmm,” Gojo hums contemplatively as he watches you put the lollipop back into your mouth. The corners of his mouth twitch as he does his best to fight off a wicked grin. His best, in this case, was not even close to good enough. Even as his lips split into a mischievous smile, he sees your eyes narrow in suspicion.

For your amusive efforts, Gojo allows his own eyelids to become playfully heavy. A tapered finger reaches out to tap the end of your lollipop stick. You flinch.

“We just kissed. Did you know that?”

You blink, shake your head. You blink again, thinking it would clear the fog from your mind.

“I see,” you speak around the lollipop that’s tucked safely back into one of your cheeks. You bob your head, nod as if you had been imparted with some worldly wisdom. “You’re crazy crazy.” You wind a finger around the side of your head, and hold out your palm briefly. “Full. Alternative facts crazy.”

Gojo closes his eyes dramatically, lifting a finger to wag it in the air. You watch with the last vestiges of your patience, as his soft looking hair falls to the side when he tilts his head slightly.

How incredibly annoying of him to be so undeniably beautiful. Surely, that was illegal somewhere in the world.

“No no,” Gojo coos softly, his white eyebrows drawing together. “Indirect kisses are real. We just had one.”

He tries to bop your lollipop stick again but you dodge him by reeling back slightly.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mister Gojo!” you mumble, your own brows drawing together. You can feel them settling there, as if that was henceforth their permanent location when Gojo Satoru was around. “Indirect kiss or not, this isn’t a free for all. You may not have boundaries, but I do.”

Guilt washes over his expression, turning his glimmering smile empty.

Whether it’s feigned, or genuine, you don’t want to bother thinking about it. His shoulders slouch as he deflates, pallid hands hiding inside his trouser pockets once more. The way he looks up at you through his lashes, behind those stupid circular glasses, reminds you of a dejected puppy.

You liked dogs, but you weren’t in the habit of picking up strays.

“Sheesh,” he exclaims after a tense moment of silence. “You’re pretty brutal with that mouth of yours. Guess it does more than just suck on a lollipop, huh?”

“Ha ha,” you laugh sarcastically, a single brow cocked high over your forehead.

You don’t seem receptive to his jokes, and he should really learn to observe and heed the lines drawn on the sand but Gojo Satoru was never one to follow the rules. He simply didn’t think they adhered to him.

“I mean,” he drawls, shifting the weight of his body to the other leg. “It makes sense why you don’t have any friends.”

There he went again, throwing words like daggers; like he didn’t care where they landed, like he didn’t care if you bled in front of him.

You open your mouth, thoughts slowing down partially because you were not expecting his brutal observation and partially because you were stunned into silence by his sheer audacity.

“That’s-that’s really none of your business,” you try to speak calmly, even as you stumble over your words. You pray your practiced stony expression saves you this time. “Also you’re one to talk. I’m surprised you even have friends.”

You, in fact, were not. He didn’t need to be told that.

Gojo Satoru loved his theatrics.

You had reached this conclusion after seeing him exert his dramatic skills at school plenty of times. Often in the company of Geto Suguru, Class President and the current star of your dreams; much to your chagrin.

You take a front row seat to Gojo’s performance as he places a hand to his chest, a trembling injured sound shooting out his throat.

“My friends love me,” he declares hotly. “I have a best friend. In fact,” he turns, swinging an arm out to point behind you. “He’s right there. SUGURU!”

You flinch at the sudden volume of his voice, shutting your eyes as one of your hands raises to pull the lollipop out from your mouth.

“SUGURU, COME HERE!”

Panic seizes in your chest, before it untangles into heated tendrils. They shoot out to your limbs, confusing your neurons. The signals are messed up, you’re sure of it, as you falter in your spot, turning and spinning to and fro. Your mind screams: run, but your legs find that extremely inconvenient. So you settle for popping the lollipop back in your mouth, and placing your hands on your hips; the epitome of teenage nonchalance.

You even lean back on a leg, as if you didn’t care about your crooked posture; scoliosis be damned.

It isn’t long before his footsteps reach you. There’s an electric chill on your fingertips, forcing you to drum them against your hips. It was all you could do to keep from screaming as Geto Suguru’s shadow fell over you.

“Oh, Suguru!” Gojo exclaims excitedly. You can’t help but notice the way his face lights up, as if the whole sun was shining down on him and only for him. An infectious smile stretches his pouty lips. “You’re here.”

Geto nods slowly, an impassive expression temporarily rippling across his features. It is quickly replaced with a more patient ambiguity.

“Mmhmm,” he admits, still nodding slowly, hands deep in the pockets of his baggy trousers. His glossy locks are tied up in his characteristic bun, bangs gently swaying against his temple with every motion. “You did flag me down.” He pauses as if to give Gojo the time to answer but the fair-haired man only stares back with a broad smile. Geto shrugs his shoulder in question. “So, what’s up?”

“Oh!” Gojo claps his hands, finding himself back on his initial train of thought. He leans over to drop an elbow on your shoulder. You try to train your expression even as you buckle slightly under the weight of your taller classmate. “Knee Pads here,” he says next, flicking a finger down at you as he continues to use you as a crutch. Your hands, still on your hips, grip tighter. “Was trying to say I didn’t have any friends. So…”

He trails off, nodding at Suguru expectingly.

You dare to finally look at Geto head on, as you feel his gaze land on your flushed face. Shiny dark marble eyes that take your breath away inspect your facade for cracks. You feel yourself small under his brief scrutiny. Fortunately for you, he flicks his gaze over at Gojo, still inconveniently close to your body.

You watch as Geto Suguru open his mouth, only to close it. You do your best to fight off a smile. It is extremely difficult when Gojo tenses slightly next to you, so you chew on the inside of a cheek for distraction. It’s like you can hear the gears inside the brunette’s head spinning, creaking, in search of some kind of answer.

“I mean…” he starts, but his voice dies out quickly. He frowns at Gojo, an overplayed sympathetic look takes over his elegant features. “First of all, her name is not Knee Pads…”

“Don’t!” Gojo interrupts, one hand going out in the air. “Change the subject.”

“Yes,” he admits with an eye roll. “We are friends. Okay?”

It was all Gojo needed, apparently. His mood shifts quickly, and he gives your shoulder up to replace you with Geto. His hands go out to his shoulders as he settles behind the dark haired young man, squeezing them repeatedly.

“See, Knee Pads? What did I say?”

Geto tries to shake him off, but gives up when he sees his attempts are futile. You laugh tensely, feeling sweat seeping into your school shirt from your armpits. It’s like your body is screaming for you to finally high tail it out of that situation but something keeps you tethered to the ground you’re standing on.

Maybe it’s the sparkle in Gojo Satoru’s shit-eating grin that pushes every button inside you, like a kid with sticky fingers. Maybe it’s the way Geto Suguru tilts his head, a quizzical expression on his face as if he is trying to read your every thought.

Maybe it’s an unknown third thing—a lonely dark thing, that still craves what it cannot have.

Friendship. Bonds.

Those were things you didn’t dare touch anymore. You’d never cross that threshold again, much less if it involved the Class President and the devoted Sunflower boy on his side.

You shift the lollipop to your other cheek with your tongue, raise a hand and vertically slice through the air with your palm.

“Good for you, Gojo Satoru,” you declare without humor. “Wonderful, even.” If there was any part of you that was envious, delirious with want, you make sure to stamp it out when you plant your feet on the ground in preparation to your exit. “I’m gonna go. Bye.”

“Wait!” Gojo stops you before you can spin and run against the wind. He reaches over Geto’s shoulder, pressing his chest against his back. Suguru starts to protest, you see him aim his elbow at Satoru’s stomach. It doesn’t stop him, however, from once more plucking the lollipop from your mouth with talented fingers.

Just as before, you watch him with a petrified expression as he crams the lollipop in his mouth, half of his body draped over Geto Suguru.

“You can go now!” he bids you adieu cheerfully. A hand wave and a smile is all you get for your mortification. “Thank for the kiss. This is my favorite flavor, actually.”

Suguru’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

“HUH?” he shouts, as he attempts to look over his shoulder at Gojo.

He does his best to shake him off of him, his gaze flickering from you to his friend repeatedly. Your heart freezes painfully, and there is a heat wrapping around your neck that suffocates you, that buries every excuse and explanation back into your stomach where it gets ready to fester.

You’ll feel them there later, tangling themselves into knots, as you lay in bed awake replaying this disaster of a meeting with your high school crush.

Unable to bear it anymore, you spin on your heels and speed walk away, far enough until you think you’re out of their line of sight; but the school gate seems so far away, as if the distance is never shortened and although you tell yourself to be patient, to just suck it up for a little longer, tears prickle your eyes. Your legs kick up as you start sprinting away, and take a sharp corner at the gate disappearing from Geto and Gojo’s sight.

Suguru finally shakes him off, and for his grievous affront, he makes sure to dig his pointy elbow into the apex of Satoru’s abdomen.

Gojo coughs and folds over, wheezing as he takes in a deep breath. He laughs, deeply amused by jokes Geto wasn’t privy to. Despite having been practically thrown off his body already, Satoru goes back to Suguru, this time propping his arm on one of his shoulders.

“She’s cute, right?” Gojo asks, peering closely into Suguru’s eyes.

Suguru finds that his friend is uncomfortably close, as he often was. He swallows thickly, a knot inside his throat that is indiscernible, tastes bittersweet on its way down. There’s a heat on the back of his neck that touches tenderly, turning the tips of his ears crimson.

“Leave her alone,” he argues, voice so taut he fears his vocal chords might tear. Suguru swallows again hoping that would solve the issue. He shrugs his shoulder, efficiently ridding himself of the source of his current affliction; at least for now; at least until he remembers the bright shade of blue of Satoru’s eyes in the middle of the night. “You don’t even like her.”

“Says who?”

“Says I.” Silence falls between them, a rare ordeal. Geto feels his shoulders stiffen as Gojo peers at him from behind his dark shades. He senses the questions in the way he stands, knows that Satoru is running through various scenarios in an effort to figure him out. If he doesn’t speak now, he might be asked questions he doesn’t want to answer. “Well, do you?”

He forces the words out, throws them like stones at a fragile skylight.

“I don’t know,” Satoru admits with a crooked smile, a dimple decorating one cheek. “Maybe? She’s interesting.”

The thing with throwing stones at glass ceilings, it’s that sometimes they shattered all around you. Geto pretends the shards don’t cut right through him. He pretends just like he’s done countless times before.

“Like I said,” he pauses to lick his bottom lip, mouth going dry. “Leave her alone. You’re just bored. Let’s go find something else to do.” He begins to walk, expecting Satoru to follow him closely—and he does as predicted.

“Oh, you wanna go to the arcade? Why?” he asks, bumping into Suguru playfully. Suguru allows himself to be swayed, and fights off a smile. “You lose against me every time. You’re that desperate to buy me food?”

“Shut up, Satoru.”

“I want McDonald’s.”

Suguru sighs heavily.

“Fine.”

[theplottdump]

M: Speaking of Aliens- wanna hear a secret? Vera: Always. M: You know Agent Star? Vera: The super serious one that works at the capital? M: 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙣. Vera: What? No way! Why do you even know that?

M: So you know how there's like stuff that's 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵- and then there's stuff that's 𝙩𝙤𝙥 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩, yeah? Like how UNIT is a secret but the tub of hummus Argent keeps in her desk is top secret?

Vera: 𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵 - Argent keeps a tub of hummus in her desk?

M: 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘴- I helped her set up a refrigerant system in one of the drawers. She gets snacky.

Vera: So 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 what that humming is!! I seriously thought it was just the sound of my anxiety during one on ones!

M: Well above that there's what we 'labrats' call the '𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘇𝗲' secrets. Stuff reserved for only the most need to know higher ups.

Government Secrets so dangerous they get shoved all the way in the back in the server - left to be forgotten and covered up with digital frost til the end of time.

M: Every few months me and few of the lab guys over at Bridgeport HQ meet up online to race and see who can decrypt whatever deep state documents we manage to fish out of the freezer the fastest.

The prize is usually pizza.

Vera: And that's how you found out about Agent Star? M: Agent Star was just the tip of the iceberg. Turns she was transferred from this facility an hour outside of Oasis Springs. The place was running experiments on all kinds of occult kids. Vera: 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩!? That's horrible.

M: It was 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬. After the last Director died, the state took one look at it and shut it all down. Relocated all the remaining staff to Strangerville and wiped all the records- cept for what we found in the freezer. Kinda like a post mortem. Cool right?

Vera: But what happened to all the kids?

M: I dunno. Place is still locked up tight from what I managed dig up. I low-key wanna drive out and see what else is left down there sometime.

Vera: And 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 is what you do for fun? M: Eh, yeah- I mean sometimes? Just because we work for the government doesn't mean I trust them.

What do you do for fun?

Vera: I 𝘶𝘩, it's stupid. M: Try me. V: Well, after my Dad tracked me down he gave me one of his old guitars. I think he felt a little bad about the whole 𝘶𝘩- abandoned at birth thing?

M: That's cool he found you. Vera: Yeah! 𝘶𝘩𝘮. He gave me a few lessons on it - said I'm a natural, but I think he was just being nice. So 𝘶𝘩- I've been writing! M: Music?

Vera: Yeah, ah, songs. With words and all that. They're mostly rubbish. M: I bet they're great. Vera: [ 𝙨𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙩 ] You haven't heard them.

M: Well then- you should play them for me sometime! I've seen you do karaoke at the Office Holiday Parties. Vera: 𝘗𝘧𝘧𝘵, I was drunk!

Maya: 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩.