#Spring Racing Transfers

[lovingpiastri]

ANGEL KISSES IN SPRING (op81 x female!mclaren engineer reader)

ᯓ★ sweet request from my very best mutual @333-th34 : moral of the story , never leave oscar in his drivers room hot and bothered !!

warnings: making out and heavy sexual tension

everything about the current situation was the riskiest of all risks . if there was a tv channel with this weeks top ten jeopardies , you and oscar would be posted up on rank number one for the next two years . why you may ask? picture this : getting hot and heavy in oscar's drivers room isn't exactly the most romantic ordeal to walk in on , especially as fraternising is an unspoken rule !

but it was so hard to resist !

and that is exactly why you were straddling oscar , desperate and needy to feel his touch . more importantly his butter soft lips grazing yours which were adorned in the cheapest drug store lip gloss . speaking of which , instead of staying on your lips it transferred onto oscar's .

your hands were intertwined in his hair harshly , carrying the act out of an occasional tug to force a pathetic whine to escape oscar's throat . on the other hand oscar was more than respectful , arms draped onto your waist gently, too scared to allow them to travel south .

the sound of people bustling outside only increases to the endorphins releasing inside your body , not to mention the creeping fact that you need to come to terms of being an adrenaline junkie . but that was a story for another day , it wasn't time to bottom out when a yearning oscar was beneath you .

"please ." he mumbles with a slightly cry with the target of gaining the slightest bit of pity from you . however oscar's cries of need didn't persuade you to halt your travels of kissing down his neck with the sporadical nip of your teeth from time to time .

oscar seals his eyes close at your scavenging for his sweet spot , but once you do it's like heaven crashes down onto earth & due to the fortunate turn of events oscar vibratos a loud moan . loud enough to wake the dead if you will .

it has to be a coincidence that as soon as that whine escapes oscar's throat unscathed , all the buzzing preparations for the race siezes to an end making you and oscar feel caught red handed for a crime you didn't commit .

a silence fills the atmosphere causing you to snap your head towards to door , making sure all coasts are clear before returning to your predicament . but as you turn around , oscar is gazing at the door clueless as ever despite the circumstances.

with that damn hot pink glittery lip gloss slathered all around his mouth.

©lovingpiastri

[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.

[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.

[floresierss]

ೃ⁀➷ JUST FOR ME - hong seunghan x reader

WORD COUNT : 1.6k

TAGS 🏷️ : fluff, slow burn, university setting

AUTHORS NOTE : hello i’m alive, i’ll try to regularly post, i took a break and i hope you can see the improvement in my writing skills!! i have something very special coming up soon so look out for that,, feel free to send any asks or questions! :3. anyways this is pretty much based off of ‘just for me’ by pinkpantheress, enjoy!

──────��─────────────────

7:45 AM

The SMU campus was alive with its usual morning chaos: students bustling to class, bikes weaving through the crowds, and the sun casting a soft golden glow over the quad. You adjusted your bag strap, taking a careful sip of your coffee as you made your way across campus.

As you passed the library, your mind wandered to Seunghan. You’d seen him yesterday in the library, laughing with his friends—Sungchan, Shotaro, Sohee, Eunseok, Anton, and Wonbin. His smile was bright and genuine, lighting up the space around him, and for a moment, you’d been so caught up in the sound of his laughter that you forgot where you were.

You never spoke to him. Why would he notice you? He was always surrounded by his friends, laughing and chatting with such ease. Yet, something about him lingered in your thoughts, and before you knew it, you were daydreaming about what it would be like to have one of those easy conversations with him.

“My diary’s full of your name on every page,” you muttered under your breath, your heart fluttering at the thought. It wasn’t something you liked to admit, but Seunghan had found his way into your daydreams far too often recently.

10:30 AM

The library was a haven of peace during the mid-morning hours. You sat by the large windows, your laptop open and your notebook beside it, though your attention was far from the research paper you were supposed to be working on. You had no choice but to stare at the empty page before you.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, but your thoughts were elsewhere. The campus newsletter was still open on your screen from earlier. You had barely paid attention to it, but something caught your eye now—Spring Music Festival Lineup Announced!

Seunghan’s band. Riize.

A slow smile crept across your face as you clicked the link, scanning the details about the lineup. You’d heard Seunghan mention his band in passing during class. He’d joked about how they were still working on their setlist, but you had never imagined they would perform at such a major event.

You were practically buzzing with excitement. The idea of hearing him perform live, of seeing him do what he loved, made your heart race.

“I’ll try and try again—one day, you’ll see,” you whispered to yourself, your fingers typing the RSVP link for the event without a second thought.

12:30 PM

You hadn’t expected to see Seunghan on your way out of the library, but there he was, standing by the door. His bag was slung casually over his shoulder, and he was speaking to Sungchan and Eunseok, laughing in that easy way of his.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart picking up speed. Would he even remember you from that brief conversation last week? Probably not. You’d barely exchanged a few words, and you were sure it wasn’t anything special.

But then, to your surprise, Seunghan’s gaze found yours. He smiled, and the moment felt like it stretched in time.

“Hey, are you heading to class?” he asked, his voice light.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Music theory.”

“Me too,” he said with a grin. “Mind if I walk with you?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Sure,” you said, trying to sound casual.

You both started walking toward the music building.

“I’ve never seen you around much,” he said, after a beat. “Are you new to this class?”

You nodded, feeling the butterflies stir in your stomach. “Yeah, I transferred here last semester.”

“Cool,” he said, his tone genuine. “How are you liking it?”

“It’s… challenging,” you said, smiling. “But in a good way. I didn’t think it would be so intense.”

Seunghan nodded. “Yeah, I get that. I almost didn’t make it through last semester myself.” He laughed lightly. “But you’ll get the hang of it. And if you ever need help with anything—music-related, of course—I’m happy to help.”

You smiled, trying to hide the rush of warmth in your chest. “Thanks. That’s really nice of you.”

“So, you’ve got the Spring Music Festival on your radar, right?” Seunghan asked after a few moments.

You blinked, surprised. “Yeah, actually, I just RSVP’d this morning.”

His smile grew wider. “Great! I’m really excited for it. It’ll be our first big performance as Riize.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “I’m sure it’s going to be amazing.”

“Thanks,” Seunghan said, looking at you with a soft smile. “It means a lot.”

As you walked into the building together, you couldn’t help but feel a little more hopeful than usual. Maybe this was the beginning of something. You didn’t know what, but there was a connection—however small—that had been formed, and it made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

4:03 PM

The campus café was bustling with students, the smell of coffee filling the air as you sat at your usual spot in the corner, trying to focus on your song. Your notebook was open in front of you, but your mind wandered as it always did when Seunghan was involved.

It had been hours since your brief conversation, but you kept replaying it over and over in your head. The sound of his voice, the way he smiled at you—everything about it felt so effortless.

You sighed, tapping your pen against the table, trying to push the thoughts aside.

That was when Seunghan walked in, his familiar face lighting up when he saw you.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm. “Mind if I sit here? It’s packed.”

“Of course,” you said, your heart skipping a beat as he pulled out a chair and sat across from you.

He leaned back, glancing at your notebook. “What are you working on?”

You hesitated, unsure how much to share. “Just… a song,” you said, your cheeks turning warm. “It’s nothing special, though.”

Seunghan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

Your heart raced, but you smiled. “It’s just a work in progress.”

He grinned. “Well, I’d love to hear it sometime. You know, if you’re comfortable with that.”

You met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Maybe.”

7:00 PM

You had just finished dinner when you received a message from Seunghan. It was a text asking if you were still going to the Spring Music Festival.

“Yes, definitely! I’m really looking forward to it.” You quickly typed back.

“Awesome. Maybe we can meet up after the show?”

Your fingers hesitated above your phone as your heart raced. Meet up? You quickly typed back: “Sure, I’d love that.”

As soon as you hit send, you felt a flutter in your chest. What was happening?

9:15 PM

The small concert hall was packed with excited students, all eagerly waiting for the Spring Music Festival to begin. You had found a seat in the middle of the crowd, your nerves growing with each passing second.

When the lights dimmed, the crowd went wild. The stage lit up, and there they were—Riize. Seunghan was front and center, his black hoodie a contrast to the colorful lights flashing behind him.

His eyes scanned the crowd briefly, and for a brief moment, it felt like his gaze landed on you. You froze, your heart thudding in your chest.

The band started playing, and the crowd erupted into cheers. The music filled the air, each note making your heart beat faster. Seunghan’s voice was smooth and rich, carrying through the auditorium with ease. He was in his element, effortlessly commanding the stage.

It was hard to focus on anything else as you watched him perform. His smile, his energy—it was magnetic. You couldn’t help but admire him more with each passing song.

11:00 PM

As the performance ended, the crowd roared with applause. You stood with the rest of the audience, clapping and cheering for Riize.

When the band left the stage, you quickly pulled out your phone to check for a message from Seunghan.

seunghan - Hey, want to meet up after the show? :p.

Your heart raced as you typed back:

y/n - absolutely 🫡

A few minutes later, you saw him walk backstage, looking exhausted but happy. Your eyes followed him for a moment before you made your way outside.

Seunghan was standing near the side exit, waiting for you. His smile made your heart do a little flip as he waved you over.

“Hey!” he greeted, his voice still buzzing with excitement from the show. “That was amazing, right?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “You were incredible.”

Seunghan chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Thanks. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” you said softly. “You really have something special.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone softening. “But it’s more fun with people like you around.”

The moment felt electric, as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you. Your heart raced, and for the first time in a while, you felt truly seen.

1:00 AM

You returned to your dorm, your head spinning from the night’s events. You sat at your desk, staring at the lyrics you had written earlier.

“When you wipe your tears, do you wipe them just for me?” you whispered, thinking back to Seunghan’s smile, his kindness, and the way he had looked at you.

You smiled, closing your notebook and settling into bed, drifting off to sleep with thoughts of Seunghan still swirling in your mind.

[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

[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 !!

[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.

[cirrus-grey]

It's that season again so fuck it, TMA Tour de France AU

Jon is a GC contender and the team leader for Ocula-Arachne, a well-funded, competitive team with several previous Tour winners to their name. He was the second-place finisher at the previous year's Tour, and is looking to bring home the yellow jersey this year. He placed well in the Spring Classics, but a bad crash and a fractured ankle have meant he missed the last several weeks of racing. It was uncertain whether he'd even compete in the Tour until the team roster was announced shortly beforehand, and he's coming into it feeling like he needs to prove himself.

Martin is a time trial specialist, but has been made team leader of Solus this year and is competing for the GC. It's his first time riding for yellow - he placed in the top ten at last year's Tour and has been absolutely killing it in the Classics, drawing media attention and pressure for the first time in his career. He seems to be getting better and better as the season goes on, but there are questions on if he's got the team to back him up - their tactics often leave him riding alone, hanging onto the wheels of his rivals rather than protected in the middle of his allies. Rumors of his rivalry with Jon are perhaps exaggerated - they touched wheels in one of the first races they were in together and both crashed out, but whatever grudge Jon held from that has faded as they've found themselves going head-to-head in recent races, and they are often seen chatting amicably as they wait for stages to start or bantering good-naturedly after they finish. Still, building on that early enmity makes for good tv.

Tim is Jon's right-hand-rider and an absolute powerhouse in the mountains, known for being able to drag him up the toughest climbs even when he's having a bad day. There's speculation that he could be a future GC contender himself - he placed fourth in the Tour last year, and possibly could have made the podium if he hadn't had to sacrifice his own race for Jon's. He probably would have been team leader this year if Jon's injuries had kept him from riding, and commentators love discussing if the team made the right decision not to bring him forward. If he harbors any private resentments about being passed over, he's done a very good job keeping them out of the public eye.

Sasha is a breakaway specialist and a former teammate of Jon and Tim. At the end of last season she transferred to team Drugoy-Tsirk - they've got a smaller budget, but they give her the opportunity to ride for herself for stage wins, rather than hanging back to support Jon. There's barely a breakaway attempt made where she isn't one of the riders in it, and she's won most aggressive rider several times already this season. There's no hard feelings toward her from Jon and Tim about the team switch, though they do find it disconcerting how they almost don't recognize her among the peloton in her new red and gold uniform...

Melanie is a sprint specialist for Nemesis-Lancraig, two-time winner of the green jersey and looking for a third. She's received criticism in the past for her aggressive riding style, and been relegated at least once under the accusation of elbowing another rider out of the way during a bunch sprint. She denies it, and the negative press only drives her harder to prove herself. She hates Jon, and it's mutual - in a race early in both their careers, his attempts to gain time in the GC got in the way of her attempts to win a stage via sprint, and vis versa. Both lost, and both still bear a grudge over it.

Georgie is Melanie's chief lead-out rider and recent girlfriend, though they're trying to keep that out of the press. She's got a knack for finding a good line through a bunch sprint to launch Melanie to the finish, and has been courted by several other teams looking to add her to their roster - but she's happy where she is. She tries not to get in the middle of the rivalry between Melanie and Jon - she and Jon rode together before turning professional and helped each other's careers a lot, and they're still on quite good terms when they meet.

Basira is the team leader for Everchase-Z, and the reigning champion from last year's Tour. An experienced professional, she's maintained cordial if distant relationships with her competitors and is well-respected by all. She's here to defend her title, and is favored to do so by all estimates - no injuries, no illness, and an ever-predictive win in the Critérium du Dauphiné mean that she's coming into this race as the rider to beat, and she doesn't intend to let anyone do so.

Daisy is Basira's right-hand-rider and has been so for the entirety of their professional careers. Ever-loyal, ever-dependable, she's pretty much unstoppable when it comes to catching breakaways - she's snatched several wins right out from under Sasha’s nose, bridging the gap from the peloton in a burst of speed and dragging them back to the group - or launching Basira ahead for a solo win. If she's on your tail, it's almost a guarantee that you're going to get caught: marked, paced, and hunted down with the precision of an expert.

I don't have plot for all 21 days of racing, but I do have the pivotal moment in week 2:

Basira has a lead of several minutes on Jon. He's in second, with Martin only 30 seconds behind him for third. Tim is in fourth, only about 20 seconds behind Martin, and he'd probably be ahead of him if he hadn't had to drop back from a breakaway in an early hilly stage to help Jon. Melanie has two stage wins to her name and feels like she's letting her team down. Sasha has one stage win, and is marking the entire Tour as an unequivocal success.

Halfway through week two, they're in the high mountains. Sasha tried for an early break but got brought back by Daisy; Melanie zipped ahead to snag a few sprint points in the foothills, and is spending the rest of the day in the gruppetto, hanging with the rest of the sprinters and chatting (flirting) with Georgie. Early on the penultimate climb Basira got away from the rest of the contenders and gained a devastating lead, putting more than a minute into them before they were even halfway up. Tim managed to hang with her for a bit before being called back to help Jon, who was struggling; Martin, with no teammates to help him, has been chugging along between the two, no chance of catching Basira but dangerously close to pulling into second place if Jon can't find his legs.

Tim drops behind Martin. He rendezvous with Jon, and starts the laborious process of trying to catch Martin again. After several arduous minutes of effort, they do. Tim is beat and has no more to give, so Jon swaps over to Martin’s wheel, hanging with him as Tim falls behind and trying to ignore the throbbing in his still-not-fully-healed ankle. He could just stay here, pace Martin, keep his second place and leave first for another day, but-

Basira reaches the top of the climb and begins the long, fast descent. She's not taking any chances, playing it safe, and Elias (the Ocula team director) is on the team radio shouting at Jon that this is his chance, he's a good descender, if he can get over the top of this climb first not only can he leave Martin in his dust but he can scrape some time back on Basira too, he's still got a chance at yellow-

Jon gathers all his reserves of strength into a burst of speed, passing Martin and charging for the top of the climb. Martin sticks out his tongue as Jon passes, trying and failing to keep up, and Jon grins at him over his shoulder as a gap grows between them. There's enough distance to the top that he pulls that gap to almost 20 seconds before he gets there, and it stretches, elastic, as he starts the descent at full speed and Martin is left still slogging up the uphill behind him.

It's a tricky descent. Lots of sharp corners, narrow roads, pavement slightly damp from a recent rain. Elias is in Jon's earpiece, telling him to push it faster, take more chances, this isn't the time to play it safe, Basira's almost at the bottom but you can catch her-

Jon takes a corner too fast. He doesn't see the paint on the road until it's too late. His wheel loses traction; slips.

The camera on the motorbike ahead of him only sees him start to tip sideways before it's around the curve and out of view. Jon doesn't follow, and every commentator on every TV outlet across the world starts freaking out, asking if they can get a camera in there, what happened, did he crash?? The motorbike can't go backward, though, it would clog up the whole race, so they holster the camera and keep going. They'll slow down if they're needed to track riders coming up from behind, or speed up if the producers want more eyes on Basira. Finding out what happened to Jon will have to be a job for someone else.

Martin makes it to the top of the climb and starts the descent with a sigh of relief. He's alone; for some reason the motorbikes never seem to follow the Solus riders, even if they are in the top three. His earpiece is pretty quiet, too, since Peter (team director) takes a pretty hands-off approach to the whole "directing" thing. He knows his two competitors are ahead of him, though, so he takes a few more risks than he normally would on a descent like this, getting as much speed as he can without losing control of his bike.

Heading into a turn, he sees a bike tangled in the weeds on the outside edge of the road, mangled and broken. He eases up on the speed so as not to repeat the crash, not thinking too much about it.

He's ten feet away when he spots the radio on the ground and realizes the crashed rider can't call in for help.

He's five feet away when he recognizes Jon's bike, and realizes Jon himself is nowhere to be seen.

He's off his bike and running before he even thinks about it.

There's a sharp drop off at the edge of the road, a steep slope covered in thick-growing trees and underbrush. Martin skids down it, cleats digging ruts in the grass as he tries not to lose his balance. One hand finds his radio, he shouts for the medical car, and then all his focus is on the trees around him, searching desperately for a flash of Jon's jersey, calling his name.

It can only be a few seconds before he spots him. His team confirms later, it's a very short time between his first call through the radio and his second. But it feels like an eternity of crashing around through those trees, desperate, panicking, race entirely forgotten on the road behind him, before he finally finds Jon.

He's sprawled on the forest floor in a dip between two trees, his jersey torn to shreds, his helmet cracked in two, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood wells up from a deep gash in his side, and his eyelids are flickering, unfocused, barely-conscious.

"Jon!"

Martin drops to his knees, hands fluttering around, not sure where to begin. Jon's mouth moves, an exhale of breath that sounds almost like Martin’s name.

("I'm fine, Martin." Later, Jon remembers saying the words with absolute confidence, the concussed certainty that he only needed a minute to rest before he'd be back on his bike. "Keep racing, I'll be up again soon.")

Then his eyes roll back in his head and he slumps to the ground, unconscious.

Martin's brain kicks back into gear. With one hand, he presses down on the wound in Jon's side, trying to staunch the blood flow (Oh god, there's so much blood, he must be cut deep-) and with the other he fumbles for his radio again, finally tuning in to the fact that Peter has been yelling in his ear this whole time.

"-crash? Can you get back on your bike? The car's going to take some time, can you keep riding?"

"Medic!" Martin snaps again, not listening.

"Martin!" Peter sounds more exasperated than relieved. "Where’d you crash? Can you keep riding?"

"Not me," Martin manages. "It's Jon, he- Jon Sims, from Ocula, he's- he crashed ahead of me."

"Sims?" Peter sounds baffled. "You're fine, then? Get back on the bike, we've got a chance at second!"

Martin doesn't move. "He's hurt bad. Where's the medical car?"

"A few minutes out, they're behind a few groups on the climb. Look, I've called in the crash, they're on their way, you don't need to worry. Just get back on your bike and keep riding, this is your chance!"

"I can't leave him!" Martin protests. He doesn't know a lot about medical science, but he can see the amount of blood on the leaves around them and how pale Jon's face has gone. He doesn't dare take his hand off the wound.

"Martin-"

He rips the radio from his ear, drops his other hand to Jon's side, and applies more pressure.

(News of the crash spreads over the race radio. In the Ocula car, Elias curses, slamming his hand into the dashboard hard enough to bruise. Then he picks up the radio again, flicking over to the team channel.

"Tim," he barks. "Jon crashed out, we're riding for you now. Try to get as much time back as you can before the finish, we'll reevaluate our strategy tonight."

"What?" Tim claps a hand to his radio - he's been soft-pedaling, waiting for the group behind to catch up so he can have an easier ride to the finish, but now he digs down for reserves of strength he didn't know he had and picks up the tempo. "Is Jon-"

"He's fine," Elias spits, motivation rather than truth. "Ride like a man and you might pull second over Blackwood."

Tim rolls his eyes and removes the radio - he's never envied Jon the kind of pressure Elias puts on the team leader - crests the top of the climb, and starts the descent. When he passes the crash he pays it no mind - Elias said Jon was fine, and he has a race to focus on.)

The minutes drag by with agonizing slowness for Martin. His eyes are glued to Jon's face; his hands shaking where he presses them to his side. He doesn't think he's imagining the way Jon's breathing is growing shallow and uneven, and there's an unspoken terror in his heart as he counts down the seconds until the medical car arrives.

The sound of an engine. A shout in French. "Here!" Martin yells back, whipping his head around. "Er- ici! Nous sommes ici!"

Everything is movement and noise from there. A few paramedics come hurrying down the slope toward them, faces turning worried as they spot Jon. One gently pushes Martin out of the way, taking his place to apply pressure to the wound; the other runs back to the car, shouting something Martin can't understand.

He finds himself standing on the sidelines, leaning against a tree, watching in a state of numb shock as they bring bandages down, start carefully trying to cover the worst of the wounds. He thinks a few minutes pass, but it feels like only seconds before there's the shrill sound of an ambulance siren on the road above and then more people are rushing around, they're loading Jon onto a stretcher, and Martin is following them back up the slope, trailing slowly behind as they carry Jon away.

The vehicles are pulled as far to the edge of the road as they can be to give riders room to pass. A few groups zip by as Jon is lifted into the ambulance and hooked to an IV. A motorbike has parked a little way up the road, and the camera is fixed on the scene, capturing every detail.

One of the paramedics tosses a blanket over Martin’s shoulders and makes sure he's leaning safely against a tree. He barely even notices, eyes locked on the doors of the ambulance as they close behind Jon.

The Solus team car pulls up as the ambulance drives away. Peter gets out, gestures for Martin's spare bike to be taken off the roof and gotten ready. Then he approaches Martin.

"Okay, we've lost a lot of time," he says briskly. "Ocula sent Stoker ahead and he's probably going to take second, but you've got a chance to hang onto third if you get moving now."

Martin turns to look at him slowly. The words aren't really registering, but when the new bike is rolled in front of him he grabs the handlebars and climbs on.

The camera watches as his team director helps him balance, gives him a hearty push to get him going again. He pedals once, twice. The bike slowly wobbles forward, veers to the side, and gently bumps into a tree. Martin tips sideways, not doing anything to break his fall, and is caught by one of the doctors from the medical car, which had stayed behind after the ambulance left.

Peter looks at the doctor, and the doctor shakes their head. He gives a deep, resigned sigh.

"Okay." Peter walks over, helps Martin off his bike, hands him back the shock blanket. "Come on, then."

He's ushered into the team car. A few more minutes are spent clearing the debris from the crash scene, removing the bits of bicycle that are scattered over the road. Then the medical car leaves, and the Solus team car soon after, and finally the motorbike drives off after them.

----

When Jon wakes in the hospital that night, he finds his whole team gathered around his bed, with Martin sitting closest to him and holding his hand. He's flattered that they'd take time out of their recovery for him like this; horrified when he learns that Martin actually dropped out of the race to help him; shocked to realize how bad his injuries are. He thanks Martin profusely, congratulates Tim on moving into second, and falls asleep again soon after.

It's not until the next morning, when he wakes to an empty room, that the doctors tell him he probably would have died if Martin hadn't stayed with him to help minimize the blood loss.

----

A few days later, he's cleared for transport, and they fly him back to London so he can finish his recovery in a hospital closer to home.

Martin books a flight back the same day.

----

They watch the last week of the race together on the tiny television in Jon's room. Sasha pulls one more win from the breakaway; Tim holds onto second by his fingernails, going toe-to-toe against the third place rider on the final mountain stage and winning by the width of a wheel. Basira runs away with first, pulling her lead to almost six minutes, and there's no doubt in anyone's mind that she would have gone home with yellow even if Jon and Martin had stayed in the race.

Melanie sews up the green jersey competition and pulls a final stage win on the Champs-Élysées, outsprinting everyone in a spectacular finish. She yanks Georgie into a celebratory kiss in front of all the cameras, and suddenly no one is talking about Jon's crash at all anymore as news of their relationship goes public in spectacular style.

----

Jon and Martin’s first kiss is a quieter thing, a private moment shared some weeks later on the day Jon is told he'll be able to go home soon.

----

It's when he's relearning how to walk on a slowly-healing leg that they start talking about their futures: what their careers mean to them, what they mean to each other, what they're willing to risk for both.

The news that the two rising stars have quit racing doesn't break until the next season has almost begun, but with the way their teams are clearly prepared to ride without them, it's clear the decision was made much earlier.

----

The television coverage of the next Tour does a little "behind the scenes" package to fill time on the long, uneventful sprint stages. They get team interviews, fan reactions, local color... they catch up with Jon and Martin on holiday by the coast, taking advantage of the lovely beach weather and cheering on the passing racers from among the crowd. They talk honestly about how they reassessed their priorities after the crash, how much respect they hold for riders who can come back from something like that and keep racing, but how the risk of further injury just wasn't worth it for them. When they're asked what their plans are now, they just smile.

"Well, we've got our hands full with wedding planning at the moment," they say, holding up their hands to show off the matching engagement rings. "But we're glad to be taking some time away to cheer on our old teams..."

They drop out of public awareness soon after that, with no regrets. They still enjoy watching the race together every year, and traveling to see some of it in person when they can, but they're more than happy to leave their own racing careers well in the past.

[hello-from-nrc-infirmary]

Vern's Ceremonial Robes: Plants need sun

“The nature of your soul is…. Diasomnia”

The dark mirror’s choice seemed to make sense. At least, the other new fae students were also in the same dorm. His talent for defense and healing were probably the biggest contributors to the decision. However, he silently doubts his abilities could match most of the others in his dorm. It soon became clear to him that his own reservations would be the least of his concerns.

-A few months later-

The constant gloom and stormy atmosphere of the dorm made it difficult for Vern to sleep at night. At least, night was what he would call it when the dorm grew darker and the slight chill in the halls started to nip at his skin. He had decided to return to the dorm late that day. It was a small attempt to hopefully enjoy the sunlight before going to his dorm.

The glow of the fireplace caught his eye as he reached the lounge. He was familiar with the blazing anger of forest fires and had painfully danced with them. These flames were… different. Glancing at the time, he picks a spot on the sofa closest to the strange green flames. He only meant to watch them for a few moments. They were oddly calming. Blinking to break the hold they had on him, he opens his textbook, pausing to set the paper inside of it next to him. Vern was a little behind in history and was hoping to do some more catch.

Curfew was a loose term in Diasomnia. A majority of the fae he had met over the past week were mostly nocturnal, including his own roommates. Luckily, the one that was always around the dorm didn’t question Vern’s sleeping habits, or current lack of them. He told himself that it wasn’t his fault. The flashes of lightning through the windows were his silent reminder of the permanent storm.

An abrupt crash of thunder jolted his system. A wave of nausea and panic sent his heart racing as he tried to calm his breathing. The shadows in the room seemed longer and darker than before. His tie suddenly being loosened made him cast for vines to burst from the cracks in the floor.

“Dear me, you have quite the set of thorns on you.”

Vern blinks, trying to focus on who was in front of him.  “O-oh… Lilia? I’m umm… so sorry…”

“Knee hee, it’s quite alright. I must’ve given you quite the fright while you were in such a state.”

“I… um… y-yeah… I suppose you umm… did…”

“Knee hee, no worries. Had I wished, I could have been truly terrifying. But, what was it that caused your hair to gray?”

“M-my hair?! Ummm... h-has it really?!?!”

He frantically reaches up to pull some of his hair into view. Lilia's laughter was filtered to the back of his mind. Had... his magic gotten that low already? He goes quiet as flakes of what appear to be ash fall from a streak of gray.

Lilia calms down after Vern's face drops, “your appearance has only grown more sullen lately. Are a type of sprite?”

“O-oh… umm… y-yes, I’m a Spring Sprite from the Phant- ummmm… I mean, the Paradise Mountains.”

“Ah, yes. Spring Sprites haven’t been seen in Briar Valley for a few hundred years.”

“Yeah…. my mother told me um… stories about the ummm… conflicts that drove her to umm… leave. She settled in the um… Phantasia Montes….”

“Goodness, she sounds like quite the globetrotter. I’d love to hear some of the tales she has.”

“Yeah... she umm… was, “ Vern smiles sadly, “I can umm… do my best to um… recall them for you sometime. I was quite umm… young when I was told about them.”

“That’d be lovely! Ah, right, do you know who this dorm transfer form belongs to?”

Vern’s amber eyes widen at the paper, “o-oh, umm… that’s mine, I guess..”

He gently takes it and looks it over for the thousandth time that week.

“You plan on transferring dorms? May I inquire why?”

“It’s my umm… roommates’ suggestion. You um… mentioned that I appear umm… sullen? It’s from the ummm…. atmosphere here, I think. It’s not um… very nourishing for diurnal fae, especially a Spring Sprite.”

“Ah, that does explain why students have found you nodding off at various times of the day.”

Vern nods, “yes. My only umm.. challenge is that I um… don’t know which dorm to transfer to.”

Lilia crosses an arm across himself while lifting the opposite hand towards his chin.

“Hmmm.... Which ones are you considering?”

“Octavinelle seemed like a ummm… decent option, with the um.. spirit of benevolence but…" Vern shakes his head, "their dorm is ummm… underwater.”

“And plants need sun to flourish. Have you considered Pomefiore? Malleus has mentioned that your knowledge of potions is inimitable.”

Vern blinks at that, his cheeks tinting pink, “o-oh… umm… I appreciate the praise. I… hadn’t um… considered it. I’m ummm… not one for um…. fashion and umm… curses, but… perhaps Pomefiore would...”

He goes quiet for a few minutes before smiling, “your insight is umm… truly helpful. It is um…. A bit late for ummm… me, though.”

“Khee hee hee, yes! Youngsters do need their sleep,” Lilia snickers.

Vern giggles, “yeah… umm…. have a good night.”

He hurries out of the lounge, not wanting to stop until the door of his dorm was shut behind him. His white-haired roommate hadn’t noticed his return thanks to his headphones. Leaning against the sturdy wood, he looks back at the transfer form in his hand.

“Pomefiore…” he mumbles to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips, “I think… yes… that will do nicely”

[h3rmess]

WHERE OUR BLUE IS

Written by @h3rmess ✰

Masterlist

S1 : Chapter 10 - "From Eros" ☆☆☆☆☆

༄ ༄ ༄

I placed the box down on my kitchen counter, looking at the box longingly. I suddenly remembered the message I had sent, telling Fushiguro to come over. I blushed, cursing myself for being in this situation. As I was lost in thought, I noticed a note in the box. I took it out, curious about what it would say.

"Dear Okumoto Seiko,

I heard that you like strawberries so I bought you some. Hope you enjoy them!

From, Eros. ♡ "

It was hand-written, each letter having its own individual flare that got me excited. My heart raced slightly as I wondered about the name. Eros? That's not a typical name in Japan. Could it be a fake name to hide their identity?

I soon figured that this person was most likely on campus, possibly from the sister school, but most likely not from an outsider or non-sorcerer.

I smiled as I looked at the letter once more before a knock echoed through my dorm.

I got up quickly, rushing to open the door. That must be Fushiguro, I thought as I unlocked the door to let him in.

"Hey! Good morning." I greeted him as he smiled, returning the greeting.

"Wow, that's a lot of strawberries." He looked into the box with a shocked expression.

I agreed with him, "Yeah, it must have been really expensive for them to buy. I still wonder who it was..." I placed my finger on my chin, considering the possible culprits. "I wish they would have at least used their own name. I want to thank them." I spoke as Fushiguro hummed in response.

I opened up one of the containers, taking it to the sink to rinse the strawberries. I placed them in a separate bowl, offering them to Fushiguro. I took a bite out of one of them, enjoying the rich flavour of spring bursting through each bite. I looked over at Fushiguro, who was indulged in the fruit. I found myself looking at his lips, which had been slightly tinted, the red of the berries transferring onto them. I smiled a little to myself as he looked over, causing me to look away in an instant.

I cleared my throat before I spoke, "Do you wanna watch a movie or something?"

"Isn't it a bit early for that?" He asked as I swore at myself. Who watches movies at 8:30am?

I bit my lip, pondering the possible activities we could do when a knock interrupted my thoughts. I looked at Fushiguro as he gestured towards the door. It opened, revealing Yuuji and Kugisaki, who looked like they had just gotten out of bed.

"Please! Can we have some strawberries?" Yuuji begged as I rolled my eyes.

"No." I stated plainly, almost closing the door.

Yuuji got on his knees and pleaded, causing me to laugh.

"Okay, fine. Come in." They entered my door and greeted Fushiguro before sitting down.

"Would you guys like pancakes?" I asked as they all agreed instantly.

I took out the ingredients I had stocked the day I arrived from my shelves. I stood in the kitchen, preparing the batter as they all conversed in my living area. I heard footsteps approach, looking up to see Fushiguro next to me.

"Can I help?" He asked me, almost eagerly.

"You could cut up the strawberries if that's okay?" I suggested as he nodded.

I handed him a butter knife and a chopping board, allowing him to get to work.

I put a bit of the batter on the pan, the sizzle satisfying me. As the pancakes cooked, I walked over to see what Fushiguro had done. He has sliced the strawberries, each slice looking like a little heart. I beamed at his work, admiring the effort he had put in. He hummed as I peered over his shoulder.

"Those are cute." I chirped, earning a flustered grin from Fushiguro as I picked one up to eat.

Kugisaki and Yuuji came over a while later to help me plate the pancakes. I placed each one onto a plate, followed by maple syrup and the heart-shaped strawberries.

We sat at a table and ate.

"This is really good!" Yuuji exclaimed, his mouth half full.

"Mhm!" Kugisaki hummed in agreement.

Fushiguro looked at me with a nod and a smile.

At this moment, I realised that life here in Tokyo was going to be a lot different than I imagined. With my new friends, the experience would be thrilling and pleasurable. The blue of the sky casted a ray of content over the thriving city, my heart raced with anticipation, wondering if a season of endless blue awaited us.

༄                                     ༄                                  ༄

TAGS ~

@nyxlai @inlovewithlondonn @sad-darksoul @eternalalmondd @httpstoyosi @vivi-loves-penguins @samutoru @lysaray

[ourtearsofrain]

Slow It Down (D.R.W/S.F.K)- Chapter 15

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka, (background) Josh Kiszka x Male O.C.

Genre: fluff, smut ish? (they get spicy but don’t go far)

Word Count:  2.5k

Warnings: Sam’s anxious at first but that’s like it, ^ like I said things get spicy but don’t go too far

A/N: I hate to say it, but this is the last official full chapter, although there will be an Epilogue set in the future

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

4:43 PM

“Hey.” Josh flashes the pair a nervous smile as they enter the kitchen where he and Austin had set in on unpacking the few groceries they had gotten to pass the time, trying to test the waters to see how their talk had gone. “Everything good?”

“Yeah.” Sam freezes, his mind racing out of nowhere. What if Josh doesn’t want me to live here? What if I don’t have somewhere to stay after all that? I can’t afford a place on my own, and I couldn’t make Danny leave Josh.

Josh’s focus moves to Danny, hoping he would elaborate. “Yeah, it did.” Danny looks to Sam, nudging him forward gently in encouragement. “Sammy has something to tell you.”

“Yeah, uh.” Swallowing hard, Sam’s eyes dart between Josh and Austin, looking to Danny behind him one last time before finding his courage. “I’ve decided I want to move here. I’m gonna finish the semester at Saginaw State, then transfer to NYU for the Spring term. I’m gonna start looking for jobs here like right now so I’ll try to visit as often as I can for interviews. And I- I was wondering if you would be ok with me moving in with you guys. Danny’s already agreed to sharing a room, I just wanted your opinion too, Josh. So, uh… yeah. That’s it basically.”

A beat of silence passes between the group before Josh whoops, startling everyone else as he practically throws himself at Sam, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and jumping up and down in excitement. “YES! IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION?! OF FUCKING COURSE YOU CAN MOVE IN WITH US, SAMMY!” He releases him, taking a step back to grin at him. “Austin and I were actually going to ask Danny if he would mind if he officially moved in, so now this’ll take our share of the rent down by half!”

“Woooow, so the only reason you’re fine with me moving in is to take the rent down, huh?”

“You know it, why else would I want to live with you? Did that for 15 years, never again unless I’m getting something out of it.”

“Fuck off.” Despite his words, Sam beams at Josh, his worries gone at the excitement his older brother had shown.

Josh’s eyebrows shoot up, as if he had just come up with a genius idea. “We should celebrate!”

Austin glances at his watch momentarily, speaking before his boyfriend could start rattling off ideas that would more than likely involve alcohol or weed as it was so early in the night. “Well, it’s almost five, darlin’. Anyone hungry?”

“Fucking starving. I’ve had nothing but plane peanuts since like ten AM.” As if on cue, Sam’s stomach grumbles, loud enough for everyone to hear as his face twists with hunger. “See?”

“Yeah, you’re all skin and bones, Sammy.” Josh swats his stomach as he passes him, too quick for Sam to retaliate as he darts towards the door. “We should go to Baazi, I’ve been craving Indian all day.”

Met with no complaints, the four men get ready to leave once again, slipping on their shoes and grabbing their phones, wallets, and keys before setting out with Josh in the lead. Out of earshot of the other pair, Austin leans towards Josh as they descend the stairs of their apartment, dropping his voice low just in case. “Not that I got any complaints, but you know Baazi is a bit pricey, right?”

“Yeah, I don’t care.” When Austin gives Josh a knowing look, he waves his hand in the air between them, slipping his hand into Austin’s as his arm drops. “It’s my treat tonight, and don’t try talking me out of it. Sammy’s moving here, we’re celebrating.”

“Fine.” Austin lets out a sharp sigh, slightly annoyed with his stubbornness but in admiration of Josh nonetheless. “You know, it’s sweet. You treatin’ us to dinner tonight, your reaction to Samuel movin’ here.”

Josh shrugs as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, his actions coming naturally to him. “He’s my little brother. He’s finally taking control of his life, he’s finally gonna be happy. Sammy rarely makes this monumental of a step, this is really big for him. I love him and I’m proud of him; and I know how terrified he must be, so I’m gonna do all I can to make him feel welcome.”

“You’re easily the most beautiful person I reckon I’ve ever met, Joshua Kiszka.”

Josh missteps at his words, luckily having just stepped onto the ground floor, and he regains his balance before glancing over at him with a sheepish smile. “I don’t know about that, baby. I mean have you met yourself?”

Austin only grins down at him as he holds the door open, pausing to wait for the other pair. “Shut it and take the compliment.”

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

7:28 PM

“That place was fantastic, best I’ve had in a while since Frankenmuth doesn’t have many good Indian places. Thanks for picking the bill up, Josh.”

“No problem, Sammy. Like I said, we’re celebrating. Speaking of,” Josh grins wide, the other three men immediately knowing what he was about to suggest. “We should continue this celebration back home, if you know what I mean.” He brings his pinched thumb and index fingers to his lips, winking theatrically as if his words and actions weren’t an immediate hint to what he was implying.

When Danny and Sam voice their agreements, Josh turns to his boyfriend, gently elbowing him in the ribs. “Yeah, yeah alright.” Austin laughs. “I won’t be smokin’ too much tonight though, gotta wake up early for work tomorrow mornin’ and I can’t exactly show up to the shop high… again.”

“Wait, again??” Sam exclaims, eager to know more. “Where do you work?”

“…local auto repair shop. Don’t remember any of that shift. Last time I try Josh’s ‘special brownies’ the night before I work, I’ll tell ya. Probably don’t help that I got a low tolerance since I haven’t been smokin’ for long.”

“Oh my god, I knew Josh was a bad influence!”

“Am not!”

“Yuh huh.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sam.”

“You’re just mad I’m right.” Sam looks over his head at Austin, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did you know Danny and I were 15 when he let us smoke with him and Jake?”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Josh punctuates each word with a smack to Sam’s arm, resulting in Austin gently steering him to his other side to put some space between the brothers. “In my defense, there’s literally nothing to do in the fucking Midwest, especially Frankenmuth.”

“Aw don’t worry darlin’, I won’t hold it against you.”

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

9:17 PM

“Bedtime.” Josh mumbles out as the end credits to Cars 3, Austin’s movie choice, plays on the TV across the room, his eyes barely cracked open from his high.

Sam immediately sets in on teasing him, having smoked less than his brother. “Awww, is Joshy tireddddd?”

“Shut the fuck up, I went through most of a J on my own. I’m higher than bat pussy right now.”

His choice of words sets the other three men off, snorting before dissolving into laughter before Austin finds his words first. “What?! Where the hell did that expression come from, darlin’?”

“Dunno, some random bar here. Anyways, I’m tired, sleepy time now.”

“Alright, c’mon.” Austin stands, wobbling on his sore legs before reaching down to pull Josh up. “It was great gettin’ to know you, Samuel. Heard so much about you but I’m glad I finally got to meet you, and I’m glad you’re movin’ in with us soon. Imma get him to bed, goodnight y’all.”

“Goodnight Austin, see you tomorrow.”

“Night, it was great to meet you too.” The pair watch the other two stumble from the room with Josh leaning heavily on Austin, Josh’s bedroom door quietly clicking behind them a few seconds after they disappear from their sight. Sam’s head falls on Danny’s shoulder, relaxing into him easily.

“You tired too?”

“Not really, I probably should be after all the traveling today and… emotional exhaustion, but I’m not.”

“Understandable.” Danny makes a move to stand, much to Sam’s dismay until he reaches down, offering his hand to him. “Let’s go, we don’t have to sleep, but my bed is more comfortable than this couch.”

“Oh, so you’re trying to get me into your bed now?” Sam questions with a mischievous grin, allowing the other man to pull him up nonetheless.

“Shut up, I’m not trying to pull any moves on you, I just want to get my ass off these threadbare cushions.”

“Likely story.”

Danny shakes his head as he opens his bedroom door, rolling his eyes as Sam passes him. “Keep it up and you’re sleeping on the couch, Kiszka.”

“You wouldn’t.” Sam puts on a wounded expression, flashing puppy dog eyes at Danny as he closes the door behind himself.

Danny melts at his act, making his way back to Sam and placing a gentle kiss to his lips. “I wouldn’t. Anyway, do you need anything to change into? I probably have some sweats if you don’t want to sleep in your jeans.”

“Na, it’s alright, I brought something.” Sam leaves him, crossing the room to where he had thrown his small suitcase and crouching to unzip it. “Usually, I sleep naked, but I won’t subject you to that tonight.”

“Who says I don’t want to be subjected to that?” Danny jokes, his tone lighthearted but his heart hammering in his chest as he swapped his sweater for a faded tie-dye shirt.

“Someone’s eager.” Sam cocks an eyebrow at him as he stands again, a pair of short, red and blue shorts in his hand.

Taking his comment as a sign of discomfort, Danny rushes to clarify. “I was just kidding, we don’t- we don’t have to do anything tonight.”

“I know, Danny, I’m just fucking with you.” Sam grins wide before unbuttoning his pants, barely giving Danny the time to avert his gaze out of respect as he pulls the tight jeans down his legs. He laughs when he sees Danny’s cheeks go red, his eyes darting around the room to focus on anything but him. “You’ve seen me change before, Danny. I don’t care if you’re looking.”

“I know… It’s just, it’s different now.” He looks back up at Sam, his voice timid as he began to fidget with his hands.

Sam makes his way over to him quickly, bringing his hands to his mouth before kissing his skin lightly. “I know. Thank you for respecting any of my boundaries, but again, you can look when I change. Especially if I’m just putting a different pair of pants on.”

“Alright.” Danny offers him a small smile before Sam turns away, making his way over to the bed as Danny strips his own jeans off. Noting the two pillows on his bed despite living alone, Sam hesitates by the side of it as Danny joins him. “You got a preference for which side you sleep on?”

“Nope, I end up sprawled in the middle when I sleep alone. You?”

“Can I have the right side?”

Danny smiles at him before making his way to the left side of the bed, pulling the comforter back before crawling under the covers. “Of course.”

“Thanks, Danny.” Sam follows suit almost immediately, clicking the lamp beside him off and settling into the bed. He hesitates for a moment as he feels Danny’s arm brush his, unknowing whether or not if the other man was a cuddler outside of unconscious camping habits.

As if he were reading his mind, Danny snakes his arm under Sam’s back, pulling him into his chest. “This ok?”

Sam breathes a sigh of relief into the fabric of his shirt, relaxing against him. “More than ok.”

Danny’s arms tense around him, as if he was holding something back. “Can I kiss you, Sammy?”

Instead of answering with his words, Sam tilts his head up, blindly searching for his lips in the dark until they finally connect. Danny’s hand moves up to cup Sam’s jaw as his other splays across his lower back, pulling him into his body. What starts out as a slow and tender kiss quickly heats up as Sam’s lips part, giving Danny the opportunity to test the waters by licking across his lower lip, reveling in the quiet hitch of Sam’s breath. As their breaths become more erratic, Danny moves his hand to Sam’s hip, grinding his body into the quickly forming tent in his boxers.

“Wait.” At the word, Danny freezes immediately, pushing Sam’s hip away from himself slightly to put some space between them, afraid he crossed a line. “Can we take it slow, please? Believe me, I want to but, maybe not tonight.”

“Of course, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” As Danny settles back against his pillow, Sam props himself up on his arm, bending slightly to reconnect their lips briefly.

“Thank you. Like I said, I want to eventually, I guess I’m just kind of in my head right now.”

“You’re alright, we can slow it down.” Danny hesitates again as Sam relaxes into his own pillow, the space between their bodies increasing as he untangles his legs from Danny’s. “Can I- can I hold you?”

“Yes, you can.” Sam’s heart soars as Danny wraps his arms around him again, pulling his back flush against his chest as he nuzzles his face into his hair, placing a gentle kiss to the back of his head. “Remember when we raced to the lake while camping?”

“Yeah, I remember you cheating very vividly.” Danny prods his finger into the soft skin of Sam’s side, grinning to himself as Sam squeals and tries to twist out of his grasp.

“I did not cheat, never have and never will, thank you very much. But I ask because I believe I still haven’t gotten my prize yet.”

“Oh, really? And what do you think your ‘prize’ is, huh?”

Sam turns, his front pressing into Danny’s as he looks up at him in the dark. “This. Us. This is all I want, all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Really?” Despite his best efforts, tears quickly come to Danny’s eyes at Sam’s words, barely succeeding in keeping them from spilling down his cheeks.

“Yeah.”

“I love you, Sammy.”

Sam grins in the dark, his exhaustion beginning to catch up to him now that he was in the arms of a man he could now proudly call his. “I love you too, Danny.”

Within minutes, only the soft sounds of their quiet snores can be heard, both men drifting easily into sleep with the other securely pressed against their bodies.

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

taglist: @gretnavannfleet @aioba1503-sdm @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @milojames16 @sanguinebats @theres-a-tvjoe @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @currentlyfangirling10