#cycle prompt tuesday

[remcocoa]

i'll build a fire, you fetch the water

@cycleprompttuesday: "extra"

also on ao3

bring a pot of water to boil.

the window above the sink looks out across the lake toward the mountains, and you watch them as you wait for the pot to fill. there’s no snow, not yet, but already the air is cooler. already you keep your jacket on for your whole training ride, instead of shedding it as the sun rises high in the sky. tadej always laughs at you, when you come back with your nose turned pink from the cold. and they say you are made of ice, he jokes, before finding plenty of inventive ways to warm you up again.

it’s strange, perhaps unnerving, how easily you get used to it, to him. you think of your house in denmark, empty now in the winter. how did you ever survive the cold, before?

here, in your kitchen in switzerland, tadej hums along to the italian song that’s coming out of his phone as he tosses the salad. to set the mood, he says. you wonder how many glasses of wine it will take, to get him to start singing. you have the time tonight, to find out.

cook the pasta until al dente.

there is more pasta in the pot than the two of you can feasibly eat. there is bread on the counter, waiting to be sliced, and a whole bottle of wine that tadej picked out earlier in the afternoon. there is a pastry box, in the pantry. you remind yourself: the season is over. there are no dieticians here, no precise calculations of calories or kilograms or power outputs. when you ride, tomorrow, it will be a different kind of race. tadej will fly away from you, or you from him, but you will both laugh. he will try to kiss you, at the summit, and you will let him, but after you will glance around, mindful of anyone watching. you wonder, often, what it would be like to live the way he does, never afraid of anything at all.

here, as you wait for the pasta to cook, you can make it up to him. you are a good kisser, he makes that very clear. what is this for? he asks when you part for air. he is giggling, and you think it is the most glorious sound in the world.

peel and slice the garlic.

you watch tadej at work, deft fingers stripping away papery thin layers and making a mess all over your pristine counter. it is new, this thing where you cook together, train together, exist in each other's space together. half the drawers in your dresser have his clothes in them, and your spare toothbrush lives in his bathroom in monaco. at first, you had tried to hide from him how much it scares you - not the commitment, not him, but the potential disaster that comes with it. you can flirt with danger while speeding down a descent, but there are other hazards in the shadows that you cannot control with your bike, your legs, your own strength of will. he sees, of course, because he knows you. don’t hide from me, please? he had begged, and your fears aren’t so heavy, when you share them with someone else.

here, in the haze of steam coming up from the pasta pot, he flicks a bit of garlic peel in your direction as you wash your hands. you fling water back at him, and he shakes it off with a wide smile. it’s easy, in autumn, to remind yourself that this is something you can have.

sauté the garlic in olive oil.

tadej looks at the bottle. extra virgin, he says, and you can see the joke on his tongue before he tells it. he is good at making you blush, you have learned, but still you laugh in spite of yourself. he wiggles his eyebrow, tries to look sultry and alluring but only succeeds in looking ridiculous. you kiss him anyway, pulling him in by the front of his hoodie. the garlic crackles in the pan, and his hand trails up your back, under your tshirt. the knobs of your spine are less pronounced, now that the demands of the season are behind you, but his fingers trace them anyway, remembering each one. in madrid he had kissed each of your vertebrae in turn, after sneaking into your hotel room late at night, right under the nose of your team.

here, in the radiant heat of the stovetop, he dances his lips under your jaw and down your neck until you swat at him with the spatula. later, you say, half admonishment and half promise, unable to keep the fondness from your voice. he just laughs, and shakes his hips exaggeratedly as he turns away to set the table.

stir the pasta and cooking water into the garlic and olive oil.

the cashier at the grocery store had not blinked twice, when the two of you walked through. the other riders out on the roads recognize you, but they let you have your privacy, content with a wave and a smile. you like the quiet, and the time it allows you to take, away from the demands of the team and the sponsors and the races. you give the pasta a final stir as he refills the wine glasses. it is a sight just for you: tadej, outlined by the setting sun, preparing the table for a meal you will share together. during the season, you try not to look at him too much, all too aware of your feelings writ so obviously across your face. emotionless, they call you, but you are afraid every time that someone will see it in your eyes.

here, in the fading light of the sunset and the glow of the candles, you can look all you want. he smiles at you and you think: surely you must be struck down, for having dared to gaze on so much beauty. his foot tangles with yours under the table, then runs teasingly up your leg. a promise, for later.

you have the time, after all.

note: let the pasta rest before serving.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

THE WORST GUY TO SHARE A BLUNT WITH. ( HOTD x READER )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader prompt : Aegon is the worst kind of person to smoke with. word count: 1, 298+ words

It wasn't too often that you smoked. You hated the bitter taste of tobacco from cheap cigarettes and standing out in the freezing cold just to be able to smoke. But, when work got on your ass⎯which it often did⎯a soda or a cigarette were better than taking a baseball bat to your boss's and co-worker’s car. 

Helaena’s joking words, “There’s no Netflix in prison” and “What am I going to do if you’re in prison?”, often floated around as well. Like shit were you going to leave Helaena all alone with nobody but Aegon to keep her company whilst you are in prison. That was the only motivation you had. No matter how beautiful it looked in your head to see the remains of your boss’s prized sports car.

Then there was Aegon. A dick at times, but was trying to be what he thought was ‘funny’ and ‘kind’. Of course, the trio of assholes who trailed behind him and were total ‘yes’ men didn’t help. Though, there were moments where he was kind and sweet. Rare, but still moments of the man behind the booze loving part boy mask. 

Then there was Aegon. A dick at times, but was trying to be what he thought was ‘funny’ and ‘kind’. Of course, the trio of assholes who trailed behind him and were total ‘yes’ men didn’t help. Though, there were moments where he was kind and sweet. Rare, but still moments of the man behind the booze loving part boy mask. 

He loved his golden retriever, Sunfyre, in a way that you never thought he could love something. He liked to eat edibles over smoking, though when he did smoke, it was usually for aesthetics or to look attractive to girls. He often threw parties just to get praise for them, as it was the only time that someone would praise him willingly. 

He was also the worst kind of guy to share a blunt with.

Sitting huddled up on the tiny back porch of Helaena’s house, you watch as the rain pours down hard, a cold chill in the air. The world was shit and the urge to just quit your shitty campus job was high. Double shifts. They wanted you to work double shifts on top of your already stressful juggle between work and College, because “Paul doesn’t wanna work Tuesday’s..” But, money was needed to continue with your studies. So you gritted and bore it. 

Blinking away the tears that bubbled in your eyes, you take a long drag of the cigarette, nose wrinkling up at the bitter taste of cheap tobacco on your tongue. Letting out a shaky breath, you truly wanted to quit, to watch the glorious look of panic on their faces as the realization they would have to take on your workload. Bouncing your knee up and down, you put the cigarette down on the ashtray, wiping the tears that brewed in your eyes.

“No, no, no. Stop it. Stop it.” You mumble, wiping your nose clean.

“Stop what? I haven’t even done anything yet!” A familiar voice whines, making you jump.

Turning your head towards him like you were in a horror movie, he was completely and utterly soaking wet, resembling a sad drenched cat. A big pout on his lips and wet puppy dog eyes. He was pathetic, truly and utterly pathetic. Narrowing your eyes at him, you scoot away from him, not wanting to be dragged into his nonsense.

Whatever reason Helaena had kicked out of the house was not your problem. Hearing him let out a whiny huff, you refuse to look at him, knowing his tricks. It was the same old cycle. He’d huff and puff, give you big pouty eyes, and then start talking and talking about whatever things were making him so pouty⎯expecting comfort from you.

“You know..” He stares, making you scowl deeper.

“Nope.” You grunt out bluntly.

“Oh, come on! No one wants to hear me speak, Y/n. I just want to talk, is that so bad?” 

Was he being fucking serious? This was supposed to be your moment. This was supposed to be your little main character moment, the part where the sad music plays and you cry. The audience would weep on your behalf. Then, the rain would stop and all would be well. How dare he try to steal this little moment from you? Doing your best to ignore him, he sits on the step next to you, his soggy clothes leaving a growing puddle on the step. Moving to sit on the step above him, you grab the cigarette from the ashtray, taking the last drag of it before leaving it to die out. 

“I got kicked out of my parent’s house, you know? Dad has Rhaenyra over and Mom’s been all stressed and stuff. She had the maids clean the house and stuff. She had them kick me out too, not wanting me to trigger her and stuff..” He rambles on, “Stupid, right? I was out all day and when I came home to sleep, she refused to let me in! Rhaenyra wasn’t even home at the time!”

"Are you seriously trauma dumping whilst I am smoking my cigarette?" You ask, a deadpan expression on your face. 

"Yes." He nods, an almost proud look on his face. 

"You're a dick." You huff, blowing out the smoke from the now dead cigarette. 

Giving you a big cheeky smile, he snatches the box of cigarettes from the now soaked step of the porch he sat on. Wrinkling your nose up as he holds a soggy cigarette between his teeth, it was revolting, the thought of smoking a soggy cigarette. It was better to not even smoke at that point. But, Aegon had no shame. Truly no shame. He was the kind of guy to shout, “Five second rule!”, before scarfing down a burger that had been dropped on the floor. Or to do the ‘walk of shame’ with a proud smirk and swagger in his step. 

Rolling your eyes hard at his childish antics, he holds his hand out to you, expecting you to hand over your lighter. Throwing the lighter in his face, you knew that it was wrong to do so, it was only encouraging him to stick around. But, it was better than crying your eyes out. He was a pest, but he was a pretty one⎯when he kept his mouth shut. If you had duct tape, you’d take his mouth shut so he couldn’t ruin the moment by speaking. Lighting the soggy cigarette with a big smile, he lets out a drag of it, the cigarette half bent in the middle from the paper being wet. 

“That’s good, personally, I would eat an edible over this, but it will work. Anyways, Mom kicked me out. Then the worst thing happened to me⎯” He rambles on, like nothing had happened.

“What’s happening?” You mumble, staring out into the rain.

“My car broke down, of all times to break down, this was the perfect moment!” He huffs, flicking the ash into the ashtray. 

“Am I dead?” You whisper, a loud crack of thunder booming.

Watching the sky light up from lightning, you shift your eyes onto him, watching him speak. He just talked and talked, unaware of the world around him. Tiny droplets of rain trickling down his forehead, his clothes making a disgusting squelching sound each time he moves around on the porch step. You would think he’d be really pretty like this, if it wasn’t for the fact that he stole your cigarette, bugged your alone time, and was rambling on about the stupidest conversation ever.

“Is this my wake? Am I in hell?” You mumble, wondering what you had done to deserve this fate.

[carriedawatermelon]

Ronance kinktober ficlet, the second. Used a random kink generator and couldn’t not do role play for the DND show, so here’s some college Ronance, in which Nancy finds that Robin’s DND swagger really fucking does it for her. As always, soft filth only for these two.

Thanks for being so kind about the last one, y’all. I’m having fun with these and it makes me happy that maybe you are, too.

Prompt: Role Play/AU

She’s supposed to be reading. She has an essay due in a week and a half that’s worth a third of her grade, and she needs to finish her outline by Tuesday, which means she needs to finish The Bluest Eye this weekend. It’s not long, and it’s not tedious, and Nancy actually gives a shit about this paper and this professor. 

She’s supposed to be reading. 

She’s not reading. 

She’s not reading because she is, somehow, at the age of 22 and years out of her parents’ house, back in their basement watching her little brother and his friends play Dungeons & Dragons. More accurately, actually, she’s watching Robin and her little brother and his friends play Dungeons & Dragons. 

That, of course, is the problem. Because Nancy is in love with Robin, and she knows this about herself, the same way she knows that Robin can turn anything into something Nancy cares about. Scallop farming? Sure, yep. The minutiae of the latest debate on the translation of a passage of The Iliad? Absolutely. The evolution of lighting in horror movies? Fascinating. Never mind that Nancy doesn’t watch horror or keep up with Homer or that scallops make her throat swell.

It’s the Robin effect, and Nancy’s three years into it with no intention of stopping. Almost four years if you count the denial and pining, which Nancy doesn’t for the sake of anniversaries but does, mostly, for considering how long Robin has had Nancy’s heart and brain and everything else, really.

Nancy should’ve known better, is the point. Nancy should’ve known better than to come down here with her book like she could be in the same room as Robin doing something that required her to talk and think and interact with other people and not immediately become distracted. This isn’t the two of them on Robin’s couch working together. (Not that that doesn’t sometimes end with Nancy getting distracted.) This is Nancy trying to work while Robin impresses a table of disgruntled teenage boys and makes Eddie laugh and plots to defeat some kind of tentacled monster with a scheme involving a slingshot (Lucas is thrilled) and a lyre.

This is Robin the Bard, apparently, and Nancy is deeply, embarrassingly, into it. 

Robin’s spot at the table means Nancy can see the profile of her face perfectly, but that Robin can’t really see her unless she turns at an awkward angle. She does a few times, just to smile at Nancy or, once, to wink like a massive nerd, and god help her, that did it for Nancy, too, her stomach flipping as she pretended to go back to reading for about ten seconds. It’s impossible, though, Nancy’s eyes always finding their way back to the table, back to Robin. 

She just got a haircut, the shag now above her ears, and she keeps running her hand through it like she can’t quite believe there’s not more. It looks good, looks amazing, which is exactly what Nancy told her before using it to guide Robin’s head between her legs before she could even make it past the entryway to Nancy’s place. The hair’s not helping things, anyway. Nor is the way she sits, legs spread as she strategizes intensely, her knee and part of her thigh exposed by her ripped black jeans. Nancy can’t look away, not that it would help if she did, because she’d be left with Robin’s voice and laugh and then she’d look again, and, well, it’s a vicious cycle, really. 

Nancy knows Robin plays at school sometimes; the queer art kids have a running game she dips into on occasion, but Nancy’s never seen it before. She knows now she’ll have to go, because she wants to see this again. Robin’s invested, her cadence shifted to match her character. She talks and jokes and helps plan but she does this thing where she makes space for the others when it seems like someone has been quiet for too long. 

She does it for Will, especially, leaves these intentional gaps for him to fill with suggestions or thoughts, makes sure he doesn’t sink into the background. Eddie’s good at that, too, but he’s so much, almost all of the time, a force, and Robin isn’t anything less but her energy feels less like a hurdle to clear and more like a lift, like cupped hands at the start of a climb. It floods Nancy with fondness and with admiration and with the desire to do things she absolutely cannot do right now. 

They break, eventually, Nancy having made about three paragraphs’ worth of progress, and Robin comes to kiss her quickly, both of them flipping off Mike as he makes a disgusted noise, before running to the bathroom and the snack supply upstairs with the rest of the boys. She turns to her book, desperate, but the cushion next to hers sinks and a tattooed arm reaches across her shoulder. Nancy sighs and slots her bookmark into place.

Eddie’s grin is shit-eating in the extreme when she turns to him, and she knows she’s caught but she still has some dignity, at least when it comes to people who aren’t Robin, so she raises her eyebrow expectantly and asks, “Can I help you?”

“I think you’re the one that needs some help, Wheeler.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes flash, delighted. “Oh, you definitely do. You’ve turned exactly one page in the last hour. And you smile every time Robin says anything. It’s disgusting. It’s amazing. I’m obsessed.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be paying attention to the game?” She manages to sound bored and fights the urge to tuck her hair, a tell he’ll sink his teeth into. 

He waves her off. “I’m paying plenty of attention to the game. Everyone’s having a great time. Which you know, because you’ve been drooling over the party bard’s every fuckin’ word. Got a thing for musicians, Wheeler? Thinking about playing her lyre?”

“Classy,” she says, and he looks like she’s given him a present. “Oh, shut up.”

He cackles, removing his hand from around her to clap loudly. “Oh, I definitely won’t. I’m gonna get her to make you play next time.”

The her in question nearly stumbles from the top of the stairs, grabbing the railing with one hand as she tries to balance a plate of cookies and a can of Coke, a bag of chips dangling from her mouth. It’s a disaster waiting to happen, but before Nancy can intervene, Lucas has plucked the soda from the crook of her arm. Whatever she says, or tries to say, through the cargo in her mouth makes him laugh. 

Eddie pokes her bicep. “Incredible.”

“This is nothing new.” She tries changing tack, bored tone still in place. It’s not new. He knows her. He knows them. 

“No,” he concedes, leaning closer to keep their conversation from drifting. “But I’ve never gotten to see it like this. Does she know she has super powers? Turning the Nancy Wheeler into mush?”

“She doesn’t,” Nancy says, fondness taking over. “Even though I’ve told her.” 

“Disgusting,” he repeats, fondness in his own voice. “Try not to fall out when your girl kills the big bad.” 

And then he’s up and headed back to the table, hands clapping and rubbing together eagerly. “And we’re back.”

Nancy’s girl does kill the big bad. Her plan works, and the boys cheer, each standing to receive some applause for their role in the fight. Eddie bows in concession and then suddenly, they’re cleaning up, and Nancy doesn’t even know how long she’s been sitting there, but she hadn’t even bothered to open the book back up for the last part of the session. 

Robin makes her way over, grinning big, and falls down against the opposite arm of the sofa, her feet tangling with Nancy's where they’re tucked up beside her. Sighing, she throws an arm over her head and says wearily, “Hard work defeating an ancient eldritch being. I might need a nap.”

“Very impressive.” It’s affectionate and teasing and Nancy’s grip on Robin’s ankle is equally soft, thumb pressing in just slightly. “I especially liked the part where you danced at him.”

“Were you watching?!” She’s propped up now, blue eyes big and attentive.

“I might have been.” 

“She was!” Eddie calls, like an asshole, and Nancy feels her cheeks go red.

“It was gross. She smiled, like, the whole time.” Mike’s got his patented scowl on, but it’s the mostly kidding version. “Weren’t you supposed to be reading?” He rolls his eyes at her as he moves toward the stairs. 

“You’re just jealous that your sister bags hotter girls than you. Maybe if you smiled every once in a while you’d get a date.” Dustin calls before looking guiltily at the couch, eyes moving between Nancy and Robin. “Sorry?”

“You’re just telling the truth,” Nancy says, and Mike’s scowl deepens while the others laugh, loud footsteps carrying them upstairs. 

“Ladies,” Eddie says, hefting his backpack onto his shoulder. “Have a lovely evening.”

“Don’t be a pervert,” Nancy says, at the same time Robin says, “Thanks.”

He laughs loudly and tips an imaginary hat before he leaves. 

Robin’s biting her lip now, obviously delighted, and Nancy rolls her eyes even as she crawls across the sofa and braces herself against the arm, looking down at Robin’s smile. 

“Might have been watching, huh?”

“A little.”

“A little,” Robin repeats, looking smug, which Nancy finds unbearably attractive. 

“You’re very cute,” she says, lifting a hand to tuck some of Robin’s hair behind her ear and trace over her nose. “My bard.”

Nancy sighs into the kiss, Robin’s hand splaying wide over the small of her back while the other wraps around her forearm. 

“Adding ‘DND does it for Nancy Wheeler’ to my list of ‘Things I Never Would Have Guessed.’”

“More like Robin Buckley does it for Nancy Wheeler.”

“Also on the list,” Robin says proudly, scratching lightly at Nancy’s back in affection. 

“Are you interested in further evidence?” The question comes with a kiss to Robin’s jaw, and Nancy can feel her nod her head, the dork. 

“Always. Um, super important actually, because what if it’s on the list and not true, you know? Like, it needs to be accurate, and-“

Nancy kisses her jaw again, takes her earlobe into her mouth and sucks gently, and Robin’s hips buck just the way she knew they would, which makes it no less rewarding. Her hands move to clutch at Nancy’s hips, a whimper escaping as Nancy kisses and licks at her throat. 

“Fuck,” she breathes out, and Nancy smiles, nips gently at the skin above the collar of her t-shirt before slipping a hand underneath it. 

“Yeah, baby? Feel good?”

“Yes.” She arches into the teasing route Nancy’s taking with her fingers. “So good.”

“Good,” Nancy murmurs, palming her over her sports bra before pushing it up, rocking her hips forward at the feeling of Robin’s nipple pebbled in her hand, again at the noise she makes when Nancy takes it between her fingers. 

“Nancy,” Robin gasps, and that’s all Nancy can take, her self-control worn to nothing after god knows how long sitting and watching her girlfriend in this fucking basement. She tugs roughly, the way that makes Robin lose it, and then pulls away, breath heavy as she sits back on Robin’s legs. 

“Sit up,” she says with force, and Robin does, immediately, going exactly where Nancy puts her, which is against the back of the sofa, without any kind of fight. 

When Nancy settles, straddling her lap, she takes Robin’s hands and puts them just under her shirt, pressing until Robin gets the hint: stay. She does, fingers flexing hot against her skin as Nancy works her way back under her shirt and bra, pulling and grasping at her eagerly, tongue licking at the back of Robin’s teeth. 

When she shoves her shirt up, bending to take a nipple into her mouth and suck, one of Robin’s hands flies to the back of her head as she cries out. Nancy pulls away for long enough to kiss her, whisper, “Shh, baby. Be quiet so I can make you come, okay?” 

Robin nods, almost pained, biting her lip, and Nancy’s chest burns, hot with want and affection. “So good for me.” She knows what she’s doing, knows she’s made it that much harder for Robin to stay quiet with those words. She doesn’t care, loves the way Robin shakes with want, the little noise that escapes as Nancy lets her smile be sharp. 

Her own hips roll when she takes Robin’s nipple back into her mouth, teeth grazing lightly, and Robin bucks into her. She sucks a mark into the soft skin under her collarbone, fills herself on greedy, inelegant touches across her tits and stomach, her mouth and hands roaming and taking, lingering where Robin makes a pretty noise in the back of her throat or grips hard at Nancy’s waist. 

“Nancy, Nancy, Nancy,” she chants eventually, desperately. “Please. Please.”

Nancy pushes herself back, stares at Robin. Her head’s thrown back, chest heaving, and when she whines and meets Nancy’s eyes, her pupils are blown, dark pools in blue. Nancy wants to take her, wants to keep her, and she slides to her knees easily, settling between Robin’s spread legs and moving immediately to undo her button and fly, pressing kisses to the skin of her belly. 

Robin’s hips lift to assist as Nancy pulls her jeans down her thighs, past her knees and off of one foot with a kiss to her ankle because she hates feeling trapped. A hand plants itself in her hair, barely tugging, and Nancy smirks and kisses her calf, her knee, the insides of her thighs. 

“Nancy, please.”

She mouths over navy briefs, moans at the sharp sting of Robin’s desperate encouragement and the smell of her through the cotton. The briefs come down quickly, and Robin’s legs spread that much wider, and Nancy looks at her, at the sharp line of her jaw where her head’s tilted back, the red mark blooming on her chest, still visible where her shirt’s caught in her sports bra, a tangled mess made of want. Robin’s hand smooths through her hair, and then Nancy’s placing a kiss below her belly button, over the dark hair that covers her, to the crease of her thigh.

A whine escapes Robin, a plea, but Nancy’s already answering, licking into her and moaning at the taste, tongue dipping into wet heat and then coming up to lap at her clit. Robin tugs her t-shirt into her mouth, biting it to keep quiet, and Nancy brings two fingers up and presses into her, her own hips moving at the feeling of Robin tight around her. 

Fingers tighten in her hair, Robin’s hips rolling to meet her thrusts, and Nancy can’t help but slide the fingers of her free hand into her own jeans. It’s too tight, and she’s uncoordinated, but it’s enough for the moment, a temporary relief as she works at Robin, adding a third finger and flattening her tongue to let Robin rut the way she wants to. 

It doesn’t take long, blue eyes looking purposefully down at her as Nancy makes a show of sucking at Robin’s clit, and then Robin’s arching, eyes slamming shut, clenching around Nancy’s fingers. When the shaking stops, her hand tugging Nancy away, she goes reluctantly, pulling her own hand from her jeans as she stands. 

Robin’s breathing hard, pulling her shirt from her mouth and tugging Nancy into her lap, shoving her shirt up and the cups of Nancy’s bra down so that she can get a nipple in her mouth. Nancy undoes her pants, Robin’s hands busy on her ass and tits, and pushes them down with her underwear. Before she can even reach for her, Robin’s got two fingers curling into her perfectly, mouth still sucking eagerly. Her other hand rocks Nancy’s hip in suggestion, and Nancy takes it gratefully, too gone to start on her own. 

She rides Robin’s fingers slowly at first and then faster, hand holding her to her chest. “More,” she says, close to begging, and Robin gives her more, a third finger slipping in with ease as Nancy slides a hand down to circle her clit. It’s quick after that, Robin moving with purpose, and Nancy falls apart above her, hand moving to brace on her shoulder. 

Robin wraps her arms around her waist, pulls her close and kisses at her neck and jaw. “God, I love you,” she says into the air by her ear, making her shiver, and Nancy melts against her further. “So fucking hot. Jesus, Nance.”

“Evidence,” Nancy says, and Robin laughs, pulling them both back against the sofa. Nancy is inordinately glad she’d spread a blanket earlier, is absolutely going to have to sneak it in with her wash. 

“To be clear, is this evidence for the Robin pile or the DND pile?” Nancy swats at her shoulder. “I’m not above getting tights and pointy ears, Nance, honest to god, and how hard can a lyre actually be, like, I have my guitar, right, so-“

Nancy kisses her into silence.

“Maybe the ears,” she murmurs into the space between them a few minutes later, and basks in Robin’s laugh. 

[obsolescent]

This Side of Paradise - Part One

Part Two

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x GN!Reader

Summary: Kyle and you are roommates–flatmates–while you study abroad in the UK. He’s usually gone due to his work and it doesn’t bother you, at first. You like being alone and like little company, but you start to feel an odd pang after a traumatic event happens that causes him to come back from base early. 

Category/Prompt: Two-part series | "I'll take care of you."

Author's Notes: Ahhh I'm so excited to be participating in @glitterypirateduck's GazFest! I've been meaning to finish this and this has given me that push. This is also the first event I've participated in on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy!

Content Warnings: Swearing, mentions of a fire but not very descriptive, reader is from the southern US, reader is more introverted, Kyle is worried for your wellbeing.

Word Count: 1,267

Another night studying, another night alone. You don’t mind, being more on the reclusive side. You really don’t mind having to interact with others, you just prefer not to. Speaking of which, you quite enjoy having a roommate–flatmate, as he would say–that’s hardly home. He doesn’t correct you in a rude way, more like he’s trying to teach you to use more of the dialect here. He’s gone for months at a time every once in a while, typically it’s just a few weeks, then he’s back for a month and the cycle repeats. It has to do with the military, but that’s all he would say about his line of work. You have a part time job at a gas–petrol, he would correct you again–station. The cultural difference between home and here is a lot more than you were expecting, having been in America your whole life to suddenly being “across the pond.”

Though the interactions you have with people here are very amusing, the double takes when people hear you at work has you “hooting and hollering”, so to speak. Most ask for you to keep talking, interested in your accent. It’s led to a few good conversations, if you’re being honest. There’s a handful of some, though, who’ve heard you speak and think you’re dumber than a bag of rocks and let you know so. Those aren’t as amusing. Regardless, it’s been a pleasant experience overall while staying in the UK, especially with the one you’re rooming with.

Meeting Kyle was by chance. He had listed his…flat, on a website that helps students around the world find accommodation close to colleges and universities. You had seen in the listing that he wasn’t home often, and being more of an introvert, that seemed like the best option for you. You had reached out and agreed on a time to chat. He was more than what you were expecting in every which way. Charismatic, kind, funny, and definitely including looks. He’s a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure. You’re glad he’s away for the most part, having someone around looking like that would surely be a distraction for you.

After that first initial conversation with Kyle, you were sure he would be the one you would be living with while studying abroad. After getting everything sorted out, between speaking with your advisor and obtaining a passport, you were set to fly out. Kyle practically demanded he pick you up and take you to your shared quarters, since the airport was quite a drive away from the apartment. He also mentioned wanting to show you around some. Ever the gentleman. Thankful for his offer at being a free tour guide, you take him up on the offer. You were glad to have met someone willing to help out and be so generous towards you, it was in his nature and you knew just by his interactions with you that he did this for everyone that came into his life.

Back to the present, it’s a Tuesday night, and there’s not much going on for you. After leaving work, you came home and made a quick dinner for yourself and settled down on the couch for a study session. You slide your earbuds in, unable to focus if it’s an actual song, and listen to sounds of nature, rain and the like. Hours have passed since you’ve immersed in your college work, sounds blaring through the speakers in your ears. You don’t realize the fire alarm has started blaring.

What finally gets you to notice is the sudden phone call that cuts the sounds out, a call from Kyle. He must’ve received an alert. “Hey–woah–I just noticed that–” “Bloody Hell! Are you still in the flat? Get outside! Christ!” You don’t even think, your brain going into panic mode, you snatch your shoes from beside the door and run for the stairs. You’re on the fifth floor, happy that you can see so much of the city, but not so happy in the event of a fire, like now. You’re not sure where the fire is located, you’re just hoping it won’t prevent you from reaching the exit. ‘What the hell would I even do if it is? Don’t think like that, just keep running, just keep going don’t think about it–’

“Are you there, love? You alright? Please say something–” Kyle’s frantic voice finally breaks through your internal monologue, earbuds still secured in your ears. “S-sorry, Kyle, I was just…I’m on my way down, I’m on the third floor now.” Your feet carrying you faster than you’ve ever ran before, you’re not seeing anyone else on the stairs…God, how long has the alarm been going off? What about the sprinkler system, why hasn’t it turned on already?’ “Thank God, it’ll be alright, just take some deep breaths and keep pushing, yeah? You’ll be outside before you know it. I’m right here with you.” His reassurance is welcomed, taking his advice, you begin some breathing exercises the best you can while scurrying down the flights of stairs.

Second floor, almost there. You feel like you’re flying down the steps, everything numb. You round the corner, about to hit the top step of the next flight when you see it. Fuck, that’s smoke. “K-Kyle, the fire, it’s on the second floor.” You begin to cough, covering your nose and mouth with your sleeve. “Fucking hell. Go back up to the previous floor. The hallway windows should have an external fire escape. Try those, yeah?” You nod your head even though he cannot see, trying to breathe like he told you to. You push the door open into the third floor’s hallway, the window to your right just a few feet away. You rush to it, having to yank on the window a few times before it pries open.

It’s one of those ladders that retracts, the end of it about 20 feet from the ground without the extension. You try releasing the mechanism that will release the other part to extend fully, but it won’t budge. You toss your shoes to the ground below, beginning to brace yourself to drop the rest of the way. “Did you get it?” You hear him ask, shuffling coming from his side of the call. “Y-yeah I got it, the ladder won’t extend all the way, fall’s maybe 20 feet.” “You can do it, love, just tuck your chin and lower your head when you drop. May be bruised and cut up some, but you’ll be alright, you can do it.” You get to the last rung, letting yourself dangle for a moment before taking the leap, literally. You take a deep breath and let go.

You hit the ground with an explosion of pain in your left arm. Letting out a cry of pain you hold onto your arm, moving other limbs in different directions to check their conditions. Kyle yells your name, “Hey! I need you to answer me, are you alright? What’s wrong?” Kyle cuts through the fuzziness in your brain. “F-Fuck. My arm, I think I broke it.” You begin to stand on shaky legs, testing the rest of your endurance. You falter and collapse to the ground, absolutely exhausted. The adrenaline must have worn off now that you’re no longer in immediate danger.

You lay your head back against the concrete, staring up at the night sky. The moon is bright and beautiful, hanging low. It’s the last thing you see before you slip into unconsciousness, Kyle calling your name over and over again lost to oblivion.

Tags: @sofasoap, since you tag me in your Gaz fics!

[astrosouldivinity]

Full Moon: Journal Prompts ⋆ ☄︎.·˚ * 🔭

There will be a Full (Harvest) Moon on Tuesday the 17th which will be in the sign Pisces. ♓️🌑♓️

This is a good time to release any emotional baggage and set your intentions. ☪︎ 🙏🏿 ☪︎

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ ⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ ⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ ⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

🤍 1. What emotional baggage am I ready to release and how has holding onto this baggage affected me?

🖤 2. How can I better trust my intuition? For instance, journaling about a time when listening to my gut led me to a positive outcome.

🤍 3. What are my intentions for this lunar cycle? List three things I want to attract into my life.

🖤 4. In what areas of my life do I seek growth and abundance? What steps can I take to nurture these aspects?

🤍 5. How have my emotions shifted recently? What do these changes tell me about my current needs and desires?

🖤 6. What dreams or aspirations have I been neglecting? How can I bring them back into focus?

🤍 7. What am I grateful for at this moment? How can gratitude help me release negativity and attract positivity?

🖤 8. How can I express my emotions in a healthy way? What creative outlets can I explore to process my feelings?

[haikyuufanficwriting]

Chapter 8: Ushijima

Prompt: Reader falls asleep on Character’s shoulder Character: Ushijima _________________

Since starting your third year at Shiratorizawa Academy, you can’t remember the last time you’ve gotten a proper amount of sleep.

Much less sleep in general.

Being in such a prestigious school, of course the workload would be bigger than any average high school. You just didn’t expect to be struggling this hard.

Back in middle school, you remember being levels above your peers. Maybe it was the hours your parents spent drilling you at home, or just natural talent, but you’re pretty confident that your reputation half brought you here.

But as you would learn, reputation and talent could only take you so far.

With your house being way too far to walk or bus, your parents allowed you to stay in one of the schools many dorms. While you were ecstatic about your new freedom, it did have some pitfalls.

Pitfalls being that your study habits were only enforced by your parents. So as any normal teenager would, you started to become lazy. And your grades began to slip.

Fortunately for you, there was rule where students had to obtain a certain average by the end of the year, or they would be kicked. That rule definitely blew some smoke up your ass, because during your first and second year, you did your absolute best to keep above that average. Which you did. Fairly well, too.

But entering your third and final year, you were just so tired. All of the motivation and strength seemed to vanish the harder your classes became. You couldn’t understand your subjects, which lead the unhealthy habit of pulling all nighters, trying to grasp the material on your own.

Eventually, your sleeping schedule had become so messed up that you were only powering on coffee and instant noodles just to get through the school day. And like a deadly cycle, certain classes and concepts were harder to comprehend the longer your brain was starved of sleep.  

One example being. Advanced Functions.

For the life of you, you just couldn’t seem to understand anything in that class. No matter how hard you tried to concentrate, tried to focus, it was always in one ear out the other. The textbook seemed so convoluted that it only managed to confuse you further, so studying on your own was a no go.

Needless to say, you weren’t even close to passing this class, and final exams were coming soon. You absolutely needed to do well in this, or else you’d get a letter sent home to your parents, and you can’t even imagine what they’d do to you.

Thankfully, your teacher had the same thought. After class ended, he called you over to his desk.

“I’ve asked a student in this class if they’d be willing to tutor you. I haven’t told them anything about your grades, just that you need some help. They’re available to work with you on Tuesdays in the library. Will that be alright with you?” You manage to keep your face passive and devoid of any emotion. Honestly, you weren’t exactly keen to be tutored, but with your grades this low, you’re really don’t have any other choice other than to throw away your pride and bite the bullet.

“Yes, thank you Sensei, that would be perfect.” You bow and make your exit, having your respectful smile drop the second your face is out of view. You sigh heavily as you made your way to your dorm.

You just hope whoever’s tutoring you can help make sense of this nonsense.

~~

Ushijima was a busy man. Key word was. After losing to Karasuno, the time he needed spend in the gym was significantly less than before. Of course, he went to the gym to practice regularly anyways, working on anything and everything to improve. But, after the coach found out, he told Ushijima to relax and take a break, claiming that he should take this time to rest and relax. Just for a couple weeks, and to take time focusing on his studies.

The only problem was, he didn’t need to focus on his studies. Or relax. He already had highest marks in most of his classes, and stress had never been an issue for him. While most ordinary students could study everything under two hours, he could. While most couldn’t function with five or less hours of sleep, he did. Ushijima had gotten so used to his hectic timetable, that having a huge chunk of it missing was extremely odd to him. Like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“This is your time to find a hobby, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou had told him, to which he only tilted his head in confusion.

“But I do have a-”

“One that isn’t volleyball.” That made him pause. A hobby… That wasn’t volleyball?

Was there really anything?

If there was, he couldn’t think of one.

“How do I find a hobby?” He asks, causing Tendou to hum.

“You gotta try different things out. See if you like it or not.” Ushijima nods, absorbing the advice. It was good advice, but it did bring up an important question.

What’s one thing he could try?

That stuck with him, circling his head for the rest of the day. There seemed to be too many and none all at once. Even if he did find some that seemed interesting, which would he do first? Could he do multiple at once to become more efficient? What if he liked a new hobby but had to stop due to his schedule becoming normal again? If that’s a possibility, what was even the point of trying to find something new?

Ushijima was close to exploding with all the questions that he couldn’t answer and was about to call Tendou again for help, at least until his advanced functions teacher called him to his desk.

“Ushijima-kun, I need your help with something. There’s a student in this class, (Name), who needs a little help understanding the material. Since your season is over and you’re fairly good at the subject, do you think you could help her out?”

As if the gods heard his cries for help, an opportunity had dropped on his lap. But did tutoring count as a hobby? It seemed like a commitment too…

‘You gotta try different things out. See if you like it or not.’ Tendou’s words ring in Ushijima’s head. Well, if he had to try different things out, this seemed like a good start. With the thought being the final push, he agrees with a solemn nod.

“I don’t have a problem with it.”

~~

You jerk awake from the bell ringing loudly in your ear. You confusedly look around to see students getting up and collecting their items around you, signaling in your brain that you must’ve fallen asleep in class again, and you slept through yet another lecture.

Guess I’ll be staying up late again…

You yawn, standing and picking up your bag before making your way out of the class, about to go the cafeteria, at least until you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket.

Was someone calling you?

Confused, you pull it out to hear a soft alarm and text across your screen in dark bold letters reading ‘Tutoring today at the library!’ causing your eyes to widen. You had completely forgotten about it! You let out a slur of curses as you rush up the stairs to the library, hoping that you didn’t make your tutor wait too long.

Practically slamming the library door open, you speed walk to the study area of the library, searching the students that littered the desks, seeing if you recognized anyone from your class. You stand there for a couple minutes longer than necessary, with your extremely heavy eyelids making it considerably difficult to scan peoples faces, but after not seeing anyone at first glance, you start to walk around the area. You don’t know how much time passes until someone calls out to you.

“(Name)-san.” The deep voice makes you jump far harder than it should’ve, with you almost dropping your school bag. You collect yourself as fast as you could and turn your head to the sound, finding none other than the star of the school.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Your brain blanks as you continue to stare at him, your mind too tired and too shocked to put together sentences. After a couple minutes of silence, he tilts his head, clearly waiting for your response. That manages to kick your brain into gear.

“Wakatoshi-san.” Your voice is meek, and your face flushes at how stupid you sound. If Ushijima sees your cringe, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“I’m glad I found you. I thought for a moment you had forgotten about our session.” His comment confirms your suspicions, but it only manages to disorientate you further.

You just never would’ve assumed that the Ushiwaka, the ace and captain of this powerhouse school, was wasting his time tutoring you. You mean, you’re not entirely surprised he was picked to help, he was one of the smartest in your class, (You’re fairly certain he’s a robot, how could someone be so good at everything?) but you just thought he would be way too busy to help anyone.

You also thought with his personality he wouldn’t want to help anybody. Honestly, you’re just confused as to why he even agreed to help you at all. Maybe to put it on his resume?

You don’t know, you assumed that being a prodigy in sport was enough, but you digress.

“Come, I’ve already set up a table.” He motions you to follow him, and with a soft ‘alright’, you follow him to a more secluded part of the study area, with a single desk surrounded by bookshelves, each stocked to the brim with dusty old books. On the desk was you assume his study books and utensils neatly organised. Of course he was a neat freak.

You sit in the chair just across from his, feeling your body almost go limp in exhaustion the second you sit down. You wait until he settles himself and opens one of his books. Your brain once more begins to fail you as you stupidly watch him flip through pages, basically falling asleep with your eyes open. You don’t even realize until you hear a sharp knock on the table.

“(Name)-san?” The voice suddenly comes into focus and you snap up. “Y-yes?”

“Aren’t you going to pull out your books?” Ushijima asks, face stoic as ever. You stutter out a slightly slurred reply as you open your school bag and search for your books.

Only to not find your math books, but your biology books. You scrunch your nose in confusion. It takes your brain a couple of seconds to realize what you did.

You switched your books on accident.

Oh, how badly you want to curl up and cry right now.

Not only was it embarrassing to have one the most popular boys in school tutor you, but to also act like a total ditz was almost too much for you to take. It’s almost like the gods want to mess with you for shits and giggles at this point.

You have to slowly put your bag down, and look back to your tutor, who’s been staring at you for the past few minutes now.

“Wakatoshi-san, I just realized I brought the wrong books by accident. I’m sorry but I’ll have to go back to my dorms to get the right ones.” You give him what you hope is an apologetic smile and begin to stand up, until his voices rings in your ear once more.

“That’s not necessary.” You pause.

“Excuse me?”

“We’ve already wasted enough time as it is. I have no problem sharing my books for this session.” With that he pulls out the chair right next to him and offers the seat.

You’re pretty sure almost every girl would kill to be in your position right now. You can’t stop the blush that forms on your tired face.

“Oh-uh… ah, thank y-you.” You finally managed to get out, wanting to slap yourself subconsciously as you take the seat next to him. The second you sit down; your overworked brain is hit by so many things at once.

He smells nice. Like really nice. You definitely wouldn’t mind curling up to that. Not to mention, his warmth.

You can feel the warmth coming off him in waves.

Sleeping next to that would be so comforting…

You’re snapped out of your thoughts again when you hear a textbook being slid over to you. If you were a little more awake then you are now, you would realize how intimate this was. Sharing a book caused you to be a lot closer than necessary, but of course with you being sleep deprived and Ushijima being Ushijima, neither of you commented.

“So, what are you having troubles in?” He asked, and you go to answer, only to be met with emptiness.

You were so confused; you didn’t even know what you were confused about. You mentally kick yourself. That’s a new low.

Of course, not wanting the captain to know how much a dumbass you were, you responded, “The first couple chapters really messed with me.” Which isn’t a lie, you just didn’t mention the rest of the chapters that messed you up as well. He nods and goes to the beginning. Then begins to explain the main concepts of the chapters.

“A polynomial function has specific characteristics that define them from another other kind of function. With those characteristics being a domain of real numbers, a possibility of the range being restricted by both upper and lower bounds, and these functions do not have horizontal…”

You hear his words turn into nothing but mixed sounds as he continued to explain. As much as you tried to focus, you feel your eyelids becoming impossible heavy. You were trying, you really were, even pinching yourself ever once in a while and biting the inside of your mouth as hard as possible, but with Ushijima’s voice this low and soothing, you were fighting a losing battle. You didn’t expect that when he wasn’t scaring you out of sleep, that his voice was actually extremely nice to listen too.

Not to mention his unexpected but totally welcomed comforting aura, his warmth, his smell and the quiet atmosphere, they were all begging you to let go and leave the realm of the conscious. While you were too busy fighting the war, Ushijima was too focused on the book and pointing out examples that he didn’t even realize.

You only manage to last a couple more minutes, until you see nothing but long awaited black.

~~

“…Then there’s quartic, quintic, so on and so forth. There are polynomials bigger than these, but the likely not to appear on the exam so we don’t have to cover them. Between these main five functions there are subdivision that we can also use to characterize them, for example-” Ushijima is cut off by a warm pressure falling on his arm. He turns confused to find you, positively knocked out and now using his arm as a pillow. His thought process is cut off.

Well this is… a development.

Ushijima figured you were tired. In fact, he had known for a long time, that you weren’t getting the sleep you needed. Just a quick glance in class, or talking to you, your slurred speech and heavy eyes, made it easy for anybody to figure out. However, he didn’t think it was to the point of passing out anywhere and everywhere.

He’d be impressed if he wasn’t inherently worried.

He been around people who were sleep deprived, previous senpais and enthusiastic kouhai’s who couldn’t get enough of volleyball, and it does terrible things to brain. Once it had been the point of someone ending up in the hospital.

Ushijima watched you with worried thoughts swirling his mind, as you had a look of absolute comfort on your face, even sleepily nuzzling your face into his arm, which caused him to stare at you a couple seconds above normalcy.

His slightly weird stare was cut off by the bell, which did put his thoughts back into gear. What was he supposed to do? Wake you? Call a teacher?

Well, one things for sure, he couldn’t just leave you here.

So, seeing this as the best course of action, he attempted to wake you.

“…(Name)-san…” He said gently, nudging you with the arm you were sleeping on, you made some sounds of discomfort, before rubbing you nose into his arm again and falling back to sleep.

It was almost cute. Almost.

“(Name)-san.” Ushijima says with a little more finality, which does cause you stir a little more, even causing you to open your eyes a little, but he could tell you were far from awake.

“She’ll be right with you.” You breathe out, which does make Ushijima lips quirk up the tiniest bit.

“(Name)-san, you have to wake up.” He’s reached his regular loudness now, hoping that he wouldn’t have to raise it higher to get you to wake. Thankfully, you manage to open your eyes fully, but is was safe to say that you weren’t completely conscious. You were almost like in a drunken state, with your pupils blown wide and the dazed expression you wore. Looking at you, Ushijima then decided what he needed to do. He couldn’t possibly let you go to class like this, not when you needed something so vital to the brain.

He grabs you by the shoulders to bring your head off him, making sure you don’t wobble too much. Once he’s sure you won’t bang your head on the table, he gets up and starts to collect your things.

“Hm? Is the session over?” You slur, eyes have lidded as you watch him pick up your bag.

“Yes.”

“Did I do well?” You ask with a tired smile, clearly not remembering what happened. Or what didn’t happen. For reasons even he didn’t know, Ushijima decides to humor you.

“Yes.” You raise your arms in the air in happiness, letting out an excited ‘yay!’ in a shushed voice, which Ushijima is extremely grateful for, as he didn’t want to cause a ruckus in the library.

He turns back to you. “Can you stand?” His question turns your mood for some reason, and you huff like a child. “’Course I can stand! Who d’you take me for?” And very quickly, as if to prove your point, you stand from your seat, only for your mind to spin and knees to wobble. Out of reflex to stop you from falling, Ushijima grabs your waist to steady you.

You two stand like that for a while, with your bodies a lot closer than they should’ve been. After what felt like an eternity, you break out into a goofy yet proud smile.

“See? Told ya I could stand.” Ushijima face is passive at best and remains silent. Only giving you a nod while he grabs his stuff along with yours as you two make it out of the library. He holds onto your waist to make sure you don’t fall when walking, but when he secures that you can walk, albeit a little slow, he still doesn’t let go. Walking through the halls and out to the dorms you both we’re met with a lot of stares. And whispers.

Not that either of you noticed.

After he’s exited the school and begins to walk to the girl’s dorms.

“What is your dorm number?” Ushijima asks, for you to snap out of whatever trance you were in.

“Uhhh… red… I think…” He looks at you, visibly confused.

“What?” You look at him back, clearly trying to think through the mess that was your brain.

“Wait… What did you ask me?” Ushijima has to keep in a sigh.

“Your dorm number.”

“Oh… That’s… Uhh… four…thirty-one.” You say.

“(Name)-san, there’s only two floors.” You two now stand in the front of the girls’ dorms, and since it was lunch hour, the likelihood that someone would be there, was considerably low, which did save Ushijima the explanation. You try to articulate a proper answer, but your brain this melted, Ushijima didn’t really have high hopes. So instead, he let go of you for a second, to read the names on the lists of the many mailboxes that littered the entrance hall. After a couple minutes, he found your name.

“208.” He says. Not even close. He watches the look of realization appear on your face.

“Ohhh, yeah that’s right!” He doesn’t hold back the sigh this time, grabbing your hand, and bringing you up to your dorm. Surprisingly, the dorm is unlocked, but you must’ve forgotten to lock it this morning when you left. He opens it and leads you in. You just follow in after him and just stare, clearly not knowing what to do.

Ushijima drops your things on your desk and takes you and sits you on your lower bunk bed.

“You should stay here and rest. You don’t have to worry about your next class, I’ll go and tell your teacher that you’re not feeling well.” He tells you, but like before, you just stare at him, telling him its just going in one ear and out the other. Out of the corner of his eye, he’s spots a random notepad and pencil. Ushijima turns away from you and takes the notepad and pencil.

“I’ll just write this down for you, so you can read it when you are in a correct state of mind. I hope you can learn to have a proper sleep schedule, it’s extremely vital to your health and not sleeping is actually- ” When he turns to you again to place the note, he finds you just as before. Knocked out on your bed, not even lifting your legs from the ground.

Ushijima watches you again for more than he cared to admit, before taking his stuff and leaving your room.

And to think he just wanted to try something new…

~~

You slowly open your eyes, to find yourself on your bed and still in uniform. You sit up, confusion hitting you hard.

How did I get here? What day is it? What time is it? How long did I sleep for?

You started panicking a little, at least until you spot a piece of folded paper on your nightstand. Curious, you open it.

(Name)-san, you fell asleep during our session, and I didn’t feel it was acceptable to leave you, so I brought you back to your dorm. I told your teachers that you weren’t feeling well, so please feel free to relax and rest. I strongly recommend that you get a proper sleep schedule, as what you are doing is dangerous.

We’ll continue our tutoring next Tuesday, hopefully you should feel better by then.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

You might just have cardiac arrest.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

04/29/24 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Samba Schutte; Wendy & The Mocats; FibreArtsBrigade; Gentlebeard Wedding Week; Fan Spotlight; Cast Cards; OFMD Colouring Pages; Our Flag Means Fanfiction Minisode; Never Left Podcast; Schadenfreude; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika

= Cast & Crew Sightings =

= Samba Schutte =

Samba doing more voice overs! Is there anything this man CANT do?

Img Src: Samba's IG

= Wendy Andresen & The Mocats =

I can't help but adore how much we're getting to see the kittens Wendy (a member of our Red Flag Crew) and the Museum of Transport and Technology in Auckland AoNZ have taken in. I'm a sucker for cat content. I figure we could all use more kittens on our timelines.

Need more kitten content? Visit Wendy's Twitter

== Fibre Arts Brigade ==

Reminders from the Fibre Arts Brigade that donations are still being taken for the charity auction on June 14th! Link to the Donation Form

== Gentlebeard Wedding Week ==

Just a reminder all! with MerMay Fast approaching we also have Gentlebeard Wedding Week May 6-12 being run by the lovely @roughwinds! If you haven't seen the prompts already they're listed below! To keep up to date with the week please follow @gbweddingweek on tumblr!

== Watch Parties ==

= Palm Royale =

Palm Royale WP May 2 via @LCWebsXOXO with the lovely @/dominicburgess approx. 4pm EDT/9pm BST/1pm PST!

= Wrecked Season 1 =

Another week of Wrecked Season 1 is on the docket! Don't have access? Reach out to me on @gentlebeardsbarngrill on tumblr, or @aspirantabby42 on twitter.

Days: Apr 29 - May 3

Times: 3:30 pm PT / 6:30 pm ET / 11:30 pm BST

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Thank you @melvisik! "Tonight is another director/the Spanish Captain who was canon blasted for trying to hang Stede."

Img Src: @melvisik's Twitter

= OFMD Colouring Pages =

@patchworkpiratebear has made a new colouring page for today! Check it out below!

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

A new minisode of Our Flag Means Fanfiction is out! This time featuring: Ready for Anything by Unapposablethumbs Minisode! Spotify link Visit @OurFlagMeansFanfiction on Instagram for more episodes!

= Never Left Podcast =

A new Episode of Never Left is out! This time the discussion is on all the different ways the characters refer to Ed! Find your favourite listening route/follow their socials here on their linktr.ee!

Art by @AmysBirdHouse on instagram

== Schadenfreude==

Thank you to @MrButtons284266 on Twitter for bringing this to our attention this morning!

Oh look 7.73% down today. Hm.

== Love Notes ==

Lovelies! Do you know what today is?

TODAY, is a new flipping day! Today has so many possibilities! Today has so many new things that can happen! Outside there is new wind blowing through, and newly formed clouds, and new light energy from the sun! The flowers are blooming in various parts of the world-- and leaves are falling in orders! Today is a new day we've never experienced before!

Even if things seem like they are stuck in a cycle, look outside, feel the air on your face, it's all new. There are so many opportunities for things to go so many different directions. I hope they go in a positive one for you today... you deserve a break, and a smile, and a chance to laugh and to love and enjoy life for a little while.

Remember to take a deep breath, drink some water, and keep on keeping on. Love you crew <3 Hope your Taika Tuesday is a wonderful one.

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Today's theme is just seeing these two gorgeous greying buggers happy. I need it, I figured everyone else did too. Gifs Courtesy of @ofmd-ann today!

[stxrshxpxd]

🎸 fic friday;

band practice

90s graham coxon x reader

fluff

“Can we do Bang again? It felt shit,” Damon asked, resting his cheek on the microphone and dumping all his weight in one of his hips. He looked like how I think the rest of us felt, his body draped in a big jumper and loose jeans and his eyes drowsy and glassy.

“Yeah, go on,” Alex yawned and Dave counted us in with his drumsticks without saying anything. Graham began playing the riff effortlessly while his eyes stared up tiredly at the low ceiling. I allowed myself to get lost momentarily in my boyfriend’s looks, as I knew I had a couple beats before I was supposed to join in with my own guitar. His neck and jaw was gorgeous and his wide shoulders were clad in that striped long-sleeve I had insisted he buy the other week. He looked exactly as good in it as I had imagined.

I pondered quickly where I was in my cycle as I felt the overwhelming urge to crawl up on Graham’s chest and go to sleep. Maybe it was also the third hour of rehearsal that was getting to me, or the fact that we hadn’t seen the sun since about last Tuesday. I threw a glance outside through the small window and watched a faint shower of snowflakes come down in the glow of the streetlights, and then my sore fingertips impulsively started playing at my cue.

I zoned out once again and wondered if I had messed up anywhere when the song came to an end, but Damon looked fairly satisfied.

“Better,” he nodded and shrugged with a yawn.

I took it as a prompt to peel my guitar strap from my shoulders and I let the guitar twang quietly as I laid its back on the layered rugs on the floor and waddled across the small room to the opposite side, heading for Graham’s arms. He noticed and smiled calmly at me before wrapping his arms around my shoulders as I buried my nose in his chest.

“Ah, damn,” Damon muttered. “That’s rehearsals done then.”

I could practically hear his joking eye roll and the rest of us laughed softly.

“No tearing her away now.”

“No sane man would dare. Risk losing a limb,” Dave joked along and I chuckled with my eyes closed, breathing in Graham’s scent and warmth.

“See, this is why we put you on opposite ends of the room,” Alex laughed and I peeked out from our hug to watch him sit down against the wall and light a cigarette next to Graham and I.

“I guess we could call it a day,” Damon yawned again.

I basked in the warmth and comfort of Graham’s embrace for a little while longer and he pressed a kiss into the top of my head with a loving chuckle.

[whataboutthefish]

Dream Baby

Written for the @harringrovemicrofic challenge 3

The prompt is Green and the word count goal is 914

Rating - General audiences Pairing Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Tags - Pregnancy, Surrogate, Steve cries a lot, Max is the best sister, Fluff Word count - 914 Link to Ao3 here

What had started as a drunken comment one Sunday afternoon at their monthly BBQ had turned into something far more serious. Sure Steve had cried when he finally let it all out, how much he wanted a child, how overwhelming the options were. The idea of finding a surrogate was so hard and so many factors had to be considered. 

Would the mother be healthy? Could they share the pregnancy with them, be there for some of the firsts? It all led to a very emotional and somewhat drunk Steve, and Billy doing all he could to console his husband. 

None of them had noticed the way Max’s brow furrowed and the look she gave Lucas as Steve took another beer which Billy swiftly removed from his hand and passed surreptitiously behind his back to Robin.

The day Max came to them with her plan Steve and Billy both cried. She’d worked it all out in a way that wasn’t pushy but certainly made Steve’s heart swell with joy and a look of pride come over Billy’s face even when he pulled her into a noogie until she was swearing and landing some pretty hard elbows to Billy’s gut.

The plan was simple, since she was Billy’s sister they were going to use Steve’s sperm so the baby would look like both of them. When Billy pointed out that they weren’t even related like that everyone in the room turned and gave him the stink eye. Steve even got his ‘I mean business’ hands on his hips. 

It turned out to be fairly simple from there on. Steve had been keeping a log of her cycle, which Max grumbled at him for because, “Steve, it’s just weird alright. You shouldn't know more about all that stuff than me.” But it was worthwhile when Max got pregnant on their first try

However the bickering was part of what made Max, Max and Steve wouldn’t have her any other way. When he talked to Lucas he was informed it had only made her more scary to live with and he thanked Steve. Damn man loved Max’s sass as much as they did, possibly more. 

Steve and Billy watched as their child grew inside of Max. Steve couldn’t keep his hands off the bump and bawled his eyes out when he felt their sweet one kick. They became insufferable in the late stages of the pregnancy. But Max rolled with it, taking advantage of the two men that would bend over backwards for her. And besides, Billy gave a mean foot massage. 

Max went into labor at 3am on a Tuesday morning. She was staying with Steve and Billy so they heard her swear like a sailor. Billy rushed to her side while Steve grabbed their go bag and ran to the car. It was Max that had to remind them that the contractions weren't close enough to go to the hospital yet.

When the time came Steve had to lay a gentle hand on Billy’s knee to stop him from speeding. By the time they were in the birthing suite they started to really annoy the crap out of Max. 

"I might be about to push a melon out my vag for you, but I am not an invalid. I can get my own ice chips, Billy."

Steve learned the hard way not to touch her just yet. The midwife explained that she would need them closer to delivery, but right now would be a good time to keep your distance. She smiled in a way that spoke of how many times she’d seen this.

The labor was long and hard. The nurse was right, by the end Max was clasping Billy's hand so hard he was gritting his teeth, while Steve rubbed circles over her back and felt entirely useless. Steve was guided to watch as the baby’s head emerged and for a startling minute Steve thought the midwife was going to pull it off, before the shoulders came through. 

It was all a rush after that.

"It's a girl." The midwife announced.

Steve could barely see for all the tears in his eyes, he reached out to grab Billy's hand as the midwife held the umbilical cord up and offered Billy the scissors to cut. Then the baby was passed into Max’s arms. Her hair was sweat soaked to her skin and she looked like she’d run two marathons but her smile was so wide it split her face.

Billy and Steve stood each side of Max as they hugged each other tight, laughing and crying at the rush of emotion.

Once the baby had been weighed and all the checks were done she was brought back to them. Billy took their little girl in his arms first, his shirt removed as he basked in the skin to skin contact. "You're the most beautiful girl in the world." Billy cooed.

Steve was going to cry again. Watching his husband with their baby was overwhelming and his heart couldn't get fuller.

The baby had a shock of red hair, her daddy's nose and Steve's lips. the perfect little mix of them all. When she opened her eyes they were a startling green.

“She looks just like you, shit bird.” Billy teased.

Steve nudged Billy in the side, taking their daughter into his arms, holding her against his bare chest. "I think Birdie works better," he said, turning her to face the others.

"After Aunty Max."

[abubblingcandle]

Augusnippets Day 30 - Self Harm - Ted Lasso

cw - self harm, self esteem issues, self harm through overworking

Chapter 5 of Lingering Rules

“It’s his prerogative if he wants to get a little extra work out in,” Ted shrugged, and kicked his feet up onto the desk. Ted was right, but Beard was too. Roy couldn’t look away from Jamie, straining and pushing his body to the limit on a random Tuesday. “I think he’s hurting himself,” Beard added and the temperature in the room plummeted.

Here on AO3 @augusnippets

“We need to talk about Tartt,” Beard stated, closing the door to the office behind him.

“What’s the little prick done now?” Roy sighed, leaning on the door frame between the two offices. He scanned out into the changing room where the team were getting changed ready to head home. Jamie’s spot on the bench was empty. His bag was still there.

“He’s still in the gym, on the bike,” Beard crossed his arms over his chest and nodded to the window looking into the gym behind them. Jamie was still going, on his own and in silence. Sweat was beading on his neck and he was flushed with exhaustion in a way that Jamie never usually was. They had finished in the gym about twenty minutes ago and this was not a cool down cycle in any way shape or form.

“It’s his prerogative if he wants to get a little extra work out in,” Ted shrugged, and kicked his feet up onto the desk. Ted was right, but Beard was too. Roy couldn’t look away from Jamie, straining and pushing his body to the limit on a random Tuesday.

“I think he’s hurting himself,” Beard added and the temperature in the room plummeted.

“Coach that’s a large thought to throw out into our little pow pow here. To me Tartt looks like he’s doing just swell. I don’t think an injured man could even try the feat of endurance he seems to be going for,” Ted hummed.

“I don’t think he’s hurt but I think he is trying to hurt himself. He’s been putting in about twice as many hours as everyone else since the Blackburn game and that’s just the hours here.”

The Blackburn game was a shit show. The bus broke down on the way to the game. No one played their best. Colin ran into Jan and very much lost that encounter. The sole of Dani’s boot just came off despite being a new pair. It was a complete clusterfuck and somehow they were drawing nil nil at the death. They got a free kick in injury time. It was Jamie’s striking distance. All Jamie needed to do was to lift it onto Jan’s head and then they had this in the bag. But it didn’t. When Jamie kicked through it, it was way too flat and bounced off the wall. Then everything happened in slow motion. There was nothing Jamie or Isaac, as the held back man, could do to stop the Blackburn winger from ending up one on one with Zoreaux. Then the net rippled.

“I thought we weren’t talking about the game that happened last week,” Ted whispered.

“Since the game that happened last week Jamie has been … wrong.”

Roy hated that it had taken Beard to point this out but he wasn’t wrong. Jamie just looked tired, black bags under his eyes and the loss of the energy he usually vibrated with.

“Plus he’s stopped talking.”

Now everyone’s head shot round to stare at Beard like a tableau of the different stages of grief.

Ted was the manifestation of denial. “He has been talking. He was chatting with Sam earlier about an overlap play and he spotted for Colin,” Ted squeaked.

“He’s only talked when prompted and only about football,” Beard retorted, sighing at the rapidly draining colour from Ted’s cheeks.

Roy was anger. Jamie was supposed to be one of his. All of the coaches unofficially had their players that they worked better with and Jamie was his. He should have been the one to notice that Jamie wasn’t being his usual idea. “I’m going to go talk to him,” Roy growled and stormed out of the office to the sound of Nate’s bargaining that quiet overly focused Jamie wasn’t actually that bad.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Roy ripped Jamie’s headphones off his head and tossed them onto the floor.

“What the fuck?” Jamie yelled, staring daggers into Roy.

“I said what the fuck is wrong with you?” Roy hit the emergency stop on the bike.

“I’m fucking working out until your rude ass stormed in here like someone shoved a flag pole up it,” Jamie kept moving his legs until the bike came to a stop and sat there glaring and rolling his ankles.

“Time to go home,” Roy growled.

“No. I’m going to stay. You guys can go. I don’t need the peanut gallery,” Jamie waved dismissively to the window where Ted, Nate and Beard were watching intently.

“You’ve been overdoing it. That’s how you get hurt. We’re leaving.”

“You’re leaving. I’ve got work to do,” Jamie crossed his arms, mimicking Roy’s tense posture.

“Tartt,” Roy scolded, but stopped before the insult he was forming fell out of his lips. Jamie was still on the fucking bike. “You lot! Out!” Roy yelled, pointing at the gawping coaches.

“Right, yes. Thinks to be thinking and things to be doing,” Ted nodded, falling backwards along with Nate in his haste to get away from this explosion waiting to happen.

“Roy just fuck off,” Jamie sighed, now in private.

“You’re being fucking weird. Get off the bike,” Roy growled.

“No,” Jamie huffed.

“Off the bike,” Roy snarled.

“I fucking can’t alright,” Jamie barked. His posture dropped to lean forward on the handle bars of the bike and his hips clicked. “I’ve been waiting and cooling down and stretching when everyone is gone so I wouldn’t have to have this damn conversation so can you just fuck off and leave me to it,” Jamie muttered.

“No, this is not healthy. This is not how to treat your body. What the fuck is happening in that empty skull of yours?” Roy ranted.

“Gotta get better,” Jamie snapped back.

“What does that mean?” Roy hissed.

“We lost on Friday because of me. I fucked up that kick. I didn’t have the stamina to keep up the intensity for the full ninety and so couldn’t chase down the counter. I fucked it. I tried to apologise to the lads but Ted just said some stuff that didn’t sound like he accepted my apology. So I need to get better. I need to get fitter, I need to improve tactics, I need to be better,” Jamie rambled. As he spiralled, Jamie’s body slumped forwards with his elbows rest on the handlebars and his head in his hands.

Roy sagged as well. Beard was right. Jamie was hurting himself, not in the traditional way but still as painful, but it was out of guilt. And out of guilt over something that was not his fault. It was a small mistake in a clusterfuck of mistakes but Roy knew the feeling of the constricting vine around Jamie’s chest well. Every footballer felt it. They didn’t usually try to work themselves to death over it though. “That loss. Not your fault. We all fucked up. It was a clusterfuck. Any shit that could hit the fan did hit the fan. Those are the sort of losses you wipe from memory and move on with your life,” Roy slowly and tentatively rested a hand on Jamie’s shoulder, settling it there when Jamie didn’t flinch away.

Yet he still shook his head, "I’m the best player out there. You know that. Everyone knows that, if they don't they're fucking dense. So if we lose then that's on me. I fucking lost and that makes me a fucking loser.”

“Tartt,” Roy groaned but the denial caught in his throat. There was something not right. Ok there were a lot of things not right but there was something that Roy was missing. Something that he should be remembering because that did not sound like Jamie. That wasn’t the usual grandstanding, everyone look at me attitude he had when stating that he was the best player out there. There was a darkness to it. And there was only one person in Jamie’s life that would talk about Jamie with that level of praise and degradation. “Is this your fucking dad again?”

Jamie’s shoulder tensed under his hand, and then there was a slight nod. “I think so. He was always on me about letting other people make me look bad. If other people were going to make me look bad then I needed to get so good that they couldn’t tarnish it,” Jamie whispered.

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Roy muttered, he just couldn’t hold it in, but thankfully Jamie didn’t react. “Tomorrow you’re talking to the doc,” Roy sighed. Jamie nodded again. Ok that was a start. Now he needed to bring it home, literally. “Tonight you are coming home with me. Lets get you out of here, ice bath then back to mine for food and rest,” Roy’s tone brokered no arguments but Jamie tried anyway.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he grumbled, finally lifting his head up off his hands.

“I don’t trust your mindset right now. It’s either come home with me or I’ll call Ted back here,” Roy released Jamie’s shoulder to help hold his waist instead as Jamie prepared to move.

“That is emotional blackmail,” Jamie huffed, groaning as he lifted his leg over the front of the bike.

“It’s a choice,” Roy smirked, catching Jamie as he dropped down and as predicted his legs buckled underneath him.

“Fine. I’ll come back with you. But that means you have to make me that salmon pasta. That was mint.”

Roy rolled his eyes but both of them knew what they were going to be eating for tea. It wasn’t perfect. Jamie wasn’t fixed but at least for tonight and tomorrow Roy knew Jamie was safe.

[remcocoa]

hold me tight (like the moon in the arms of the sky)

@cycleprompttuesday: "technology"

also on ao3

after dinner, he makes his excuses and disappears to his room, leaving the others to linger at the table. he can feel christophe’s eyes on him as he walks away, but he does not look back. there’s no need, between them.

back in his room, jonas really does call trine. that had not been a lie, which makes him feel better. he tells her about his training ride that morning and listens to stories of the park that she had taken frida to that afternoon. frida is already half asleep, exhausted from an afternoon of running wild, but at trine’s prompting she mumbles something that jonas can’t really understand through the phone. it makes him tear up anyway.

he tells trine about the race, skirting around the way his heart had leapt up into his throat in the last kilometers, the way it always does during a sprint, when wout and christophe are racing. he doesn’t need to say it for her to know.

jonas lingers on the call, and is just preparing to say his goodbyes when there’s a soft knock on the door. say hello to them for me, trine says. he can hear the smile in her voice, and what did he ever do, to deserve this?

he had told her, after it happened the first time: how so much joy was overflowing in the team at christophe’s win, how he’d gone to the room christophe was sharing with wout, intending to congratulate him, but how he had stumbled on something else, instead.

jonas doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way they’d looked that night in carcassonne, the way christophe had his head thrown back with both pleasure and exhaustion, the way wout had looked at jonas with those dark, dark eyes that were invitation and challenge all rolled into one, and how could he refuse?

of course you couldn’t, trine had said, not in anger but with a laughing lilt to her voice that jonas will wonder at for the rest of his life. your heart is so full of love, jonas. how could i ever keep it all for myself? he had wanted to protest, had wanted to tell her she was wrong, but instead he had just cried. and she had reassured him, over the phone, and then later when she could wrap a hand around his wrist and hold him close.

christophe has changed clothes, and the sight of him at the door, hair still rumpled from a shower and tshirt sleeves pushed up, is enough to make jonas wish it were the last day of camp and not the middle. they can’t, tonight, not the way they might want to, but still he can pull christophe inside and tilt his head up to press their lips together.

it’s not the heated passion of carcassonne, not the hesitant wonder of paris or the emotional release from after madrid and drenthe. this is something slower, softer - christophe’s hand sliding up his back, along the knobs of his spine that will become more pronounced as the season goes along. jonas leans into it, runs a hand up under the brand new tshirt. it’s not as soft as the old one, but it will get there.

the ringing phone startles them both, and they pull apart with all the sheepishness of two teenagers caught fumbling. christophe is chucking as he digs it out of his pocket, showing jonas the screen. he’s impatient, christophe says, fondness in every syllable.

you’re late, wout complains, but on the other side of the camera he’s smiling. jonas leans his head back on christophe’s collarbone, where they’ve settled up against the headboard. wout’s eyes follow the way christophe’s fingers trace patterns on jonas’s shoulder, the way jonas plays with the hem of christophe's tshirt, and they really shouldn't, tonight, but jonas wants to.

wout tells them about the race, in more detail than jonas had shared with trine, probably more detail than jonas really wanted to know. he can picture it - the hectic last kilometers, the pushing and shoving and fighting for position, the slick pavement and the parked cars narrowing the roads even further, the crash just behind them at the finish. jonas shudders, and he feels christophe’s lips press into his hair. a reassurance.

on the phone screen, wout watches them with undisguised longing. that will be jonas, in a few weeks, when the two of them go north to the classics, to cobbles and wind and long months without a shared race. but they can have this, tonight.

they can’t, shouldn’t do anything more - but when wout whispers let me see, neither of them resist. it’s nearly overwhelming, the feeling of christophe’s mouth on him and wout’s voice through the phone, low and gravelly. jonas pictures it, wout wrapping a hand around himself while he listens to jonas gasp.

when he reverses them, pushing christophe back into the pillows and putting his mouth on him until he hisses something in french that has wout groaning, jonas pictures wout here, in bed in teide with them. it hurts a little more every time, the not having, and he doesn’t realize he’s crying until christophe wraps a hand around his wrist and pulls him closer.

the clock on the wall ticks away, and dylan will be back soon. christophe will be gone, by then, and wout too, off to dinner and champagne to celebrate the team’s first win of the season. jonas will call trine again, after she has put frida to bed. he will tell her everything, because that’s how it is, between them. he doesn’t deserve her, will tell her that too, and she will just shake her head and smile.

soon, they will scatter to the winds and the demands of the season. but for now, he lets himself be lulled by it, by christophe’s hand in his hair and wout’s quiet voice on the phone and the warmth that fills the room even though it’s still cool, in february in tenerife.

for now, they have this.

[tj-dragonblade]

FLUFFBRUARY 2023: Feb 17

Prompts: crystal yesterday fantasy

'Yesterday' is a concept far more applicable to the waking world than to the Dreaming, as is 'tomorrow'. Time is measured differently; changes from day to night happen with the same unfixed whims as changes in the weather. There are always dreamers sleeping and Dream himself does not sleep or wake in any sort of regular cycle. In the Dreaming, there is what was and what is and what will be, without the tidy cyclical divisions of the waking world.

Dream has begun keeping closer track of the waking world cycles recently, in a way he did not while imprisoned in Burgess' basement—day and night, yesterday or tomorrow, they had likewise mattered little when the only change to his circumstances was the rotation of the guards while he sat silent and unmoving.

He has reason, now; ever since he found Hob at the New Inn for their long-overdue meeting, ever since 'You're late' and the brilliance of Hob's smile bestowed upon him like a gift, Dream has been keenly aware of the measure of time. He has always kept track, for Hob, has maintained awareness enough to know when June 7th approached, when it had been one hundred years. But now, it is far more…immediate. Hob had suggested meeting more frequently; Dream had agreed. Hob lives by the schedule of the Waking; Hob is free on Tuesday nights and on Saturdays, and Dream must be aware of when it is Tuesday or when it is Saturday if he wishes not to. Inconvenience his friend, with his visits.

And so it is, that he finds himself using these terms with more and greater ease: two years ago he resumed his friendship with Hob; three months from now is the day Hob has chosen to celebrate his birth; tomorrow evening Hob has asked him to visit.

And when tomorrow becomes today, becomes tonight, becomes this morning, Dream finds himself grateful for the vocabulary, for he has. A great many new things, to catalogue.

Yesterday, he did not know how it felt to be kissed by Hob Gadling. But yesterday evening, he had learned.

Last night had taught him what it was to be made love to by Hob, to be open and vulnerable with his dearest friend, to receive caring, and affection, and. Devotion, in return.

This moment, as the night transitions to the day, he knows the quiet pleasure of lying in Hob's embrace, of being. Held, for hours, with Hob's sleeping heartbeat slow and gentle in his ear, of twining his fingers through the hair on Hob's chest.

And soon, now, he will discover the soft and aching happiness of watching Hob wake, the intimate joy of Hob's smile blooming just for him, here, like this; of being kissed good morning with slow and lazy contentment.

Today, he can say, he has learned what it is, to be. Loved, by Hob.

On AO3

===== It's possible that my 'time works different in the Dreaming' babble may be entirely contradictory to canon. To which I say: ...Ehhhhh.

[hollow-dweller]

Talk Shop Tuesday: there are a lot of things fandom cycles through in terms of interaction unrelated to commenting or reading (we’ve both seen fic rec lists go in and out of fashion). What’s a fandom trend that you miss? A fandom trend you’d be happy to never see again?

oh DELICIOUS question to bring back: anonymous prompt memes. these used to pretty universally be called "kink memes" despite not always--or in some cases, even often--being NSFW, but they were events on LJ and Dreamwidth in which fans could anonymously post prompts, and people would anonymously fill them. dealer's choice on whether you wanted to de-anon or repost your fill on your own journal after the event was over. because everything was anonymous and at no point was there any expectation that you would definitely find your prompt or fill de-anoned, people were a lot less inhibited in the kinds of things they asked for. yes, this definitely led to some Horrors--we know what fandom is like--but it also lead to some really interesting, creative writing. the freedom of anonymity let people really spread their wings, and in general i think led to an overall healthier creative ecosystem. bring back anonymous prompt memes!

to kill it until its dead and can't come back: fandom awards. i LOVE fic rec lists (honorable mention for my "bring it back" pick), but i loathe fandom awards. i don't care about your intentions, they are formalized and codified fandom popularity contests. and i say this as someone who has had MULTIPLE fics make it into some of these awards, over the years. it's a trend that resurfaces in fandoms every once in awhile, and i think it really only breeds bad feeling. just do fic rec lists! then at least you're talking about fics you personally like for your personal reasons! making it a competition only spells disaster and i do not understand why this is a trend that won't die.

[thaifanfests]

💧ประกาศสงกรานต์ ปีพุทธศักราช 2567💧

💧Songkran Announcement 2567 Buddhist era💧

From Brahmin astrologers from the Royal Ceremonial Division of the Bureau of the Royal Household

Translated by @recentadultburnout

ปีมะโรง (เทวดาผู้ชาย ธาตุทอง) ฉอศก จุลศักราช 1386 ทางจันทรคติ เป็น ปกติ มาสวาร ทางสุริยคติ เป็น อธิกสุรทิน

Year of great snake (male angel, gold element) 1386 Thai minor era.

The lunar cycle is a Poktimat-wan (a normal year where the even months have 15 days of waxing moon and 15 days of waning moon and the odd months have 15 days of waxing moon and 14 days of waning moon, the total days in a year are (306+296) = 354 days).

The solar calendar is a leap year

วันที่ 13 เมษายน เป็น วันมหาสงกรานต์ ทางจันทรคติตรงกับวันเสาร์ ขึ้น 5 ค่ำ เดือน 5 เวลา 22 นาฬิกา 24 นาที

April 13th is the Maha Songkran Day.

On the lunar cycle, it falls on Saturday, the 5th waxing moon of the 5th lunar month at 10:24 p.m.

นางสงกรานต์ ทรงนามว่า “มโหธรเทวี” ทรงพาหุรัดทัดดอกสามหาว อาภรณ์แก้วนิลรัตน์

Lady Songkran named Mahothorn Devi. Wearing a bracelet. Behind her ear is water hyacinth. Robed in blue sapphire.

ภักษาหารเนื้อทราย พระหัตถ์ขวาทรงจักร พระหัตถ์ซ้ายทรงตรีศูล เสด็จไสยาสน์ลืมเนตรมาเหนือหลัง มยุรา (นกยูง) เป็นพาหนะ

Hog deer is her food. Her right hand holding a “chakram” gear wheel and her left hand holding a trident.

Her Majesty lay on the back of a peacock as a vehicle with her eyes open.

วันที่ 16 เมษายน เวลา 02 นาฬิกา 15 นาที 00 วินาที เปลี่ยนจุลศักราชใหม่เป็น 1386 ปีนี้ วันอังคาร เป็น ธงชัย, วันพฤหัสบดี เป็น อธิบดี, วันจันทร์ เป็น อุบาทว์, วันเสาร์ เป็น โลกาวินาศ

April 16 at 02:15 minutes 00 seconds, changed to the new Thai minor era, 1386. Tuesday is Thongchai (type of auspicious day according to astrology). Thursday is Athipbodi (auspicious day). Monday is Ubat (a type of day according to astrology). Saturday is Lokawinat. (inauspicious day).

ปีนี้ วันอังคาร เป็นอธิบดีฝน บันดาลให้ฝนตก 300 ห่า ตกในโลกมนุษย์ 30 ห่า ตกในมหาสมุทร 60 ห่า ตกในป่าหิมพานต์ 90 ห่า ตกในเขาจักรวาล 120 ห่า นาคให้น้ำ 7 ตัว

This year, Tuesday is Athipbodi of the Rain causing 300 showers of rain. Falling into the human world 30 showers of rain. Falling into the ocean 60 showers of rain. Fell on the Himmapan forest 90 showers of rain. Fell on Mount Meru 120 showers of rain. 7 Nagas give water (also a prediction about the amount of rain. Mean that there will be little water).

เกณฑ์ธัญญาหาร ได้เศษ 5 ชื่อ วิบัติ ข้าวกล้าในภูมินาจะเกิดกิมิชาติ จะได้ผลกึ่ง เสียกึ่ง

The grain criteria gets 5 fractions. The name is Wibat (catastrophe) The rice seedlings in the rice field will be born with beetles or various insects. The results will be half good and half bad.

เกณฑ์ธาราธิคุณ ตกราศีวาโย (ลม) น้ำน้อย

Tharathikhun's criteria fall under the zodiac sign of Wayo(wind). There will be little water.

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[lenbryant]

(Long post) Democrats rally behind first out transgender member of Congress, decry Republican attacks

By Kevin RectorStaff Writer 

At a Democratic caucus meeting Tuesday, Rep. Becca Balint (D-Vt.) watched as colleagues approached and offered their support to Rep.-elect Sarah McBride (D-Del.), who will soon be sworn in as the first out transgender member of Congress.

“We have your back,” Balint recalled her fellow representatives telling McBride. “We stand with you.”

Rep. Becca Balint (D-Vt.) in 2022.

(Amanda Andrade-Rhoades / Associated Press)

According to Balint, co-chair of the Congressional Equality Caucus, many Democratic members are excited to welcome and meet McBride — not just as a queer history-maker, but as a new colleague whose reputation as an effective state legislator in Delaware preceded her to Washington.

The support has been intentionally loud, Balint said, because Democrats also want to send an unequivocal message to House Republicans who have targeted McBride with comments and actions in recent days that Democrats “are not going to retreat” on transgender rights.

“We have to absolutely recommit ourselves to this fight, for protecting everyone’s inherent dignity,” Balint said.

Rep. Nancy Mace (R-S.C.) leaves the speaker’s office at the Capitol in 2023.

(J. Scott Applewhite / Associated Press)

Mace said her measures, which would require approval, are to protect women and girls, then launched a new line of merchandise to profit off her stance. She has previously espoused support for LGBTQ+ rights.

In issuing his bathroom rule, which falls under his purview as speaker, Johnson said, “Women deserve women’s-only spaces.” He also noted that all members have private bathrooms within their offices — though those can be far from the House floor.

House Speaker Mike Johnson (R-La.) speaks at an October campaign rally for Donald Trump.

(Alex Brandon / Associated Press)

Access to bathrooms has long been an issue for women at the Capitol, which originally operated on the presumption that legislators were men. Only after more and more women won seats in Congress and called out the dearth of facilities for them did the issue get resolved.

With the latest measures targeting McBride, Democrats say they are struggling to combat fresh discrimination in the same sphere — a backsliding they view as particularly cruel for its targeting of a single incoming legislator, and extra alarming for its potential to harm other queer people who visit or work in the Capitol.

“This incredibly craven and cruel attack directed at [McBride] was certainly intended to dehumanize her before she has even been sworn in, but it actually doesn’t just affect our first trans member of Congress,” Balint said. “It impacts all of the people who work on Capitol Hill who identify as trans and nonbinary. It impacts the reporters who cover the Hill that identify as trans and nonbinary. And it also impacts every single one of our constituents who come into the halls of Congress to meet with us.”

Speaking out in opposition to the measures is about supporting McBride, who is “a serious legislator” and wants to get to work on a range of tough issues without having to worry about where she can get to a toilet, Balint said. But it is also about “showing the LGBTQ community across the country that we are standing up for them and pushing back.”

The debate follows an election cycle steeped in anti-transgender rhetoric, when many Republicans — including President-elect Donald Trump — took to ridiculing Democrats over their support for transgender equality as a central campaign message, to the tune of hundreds of millions of dollars in collective ad spending.

“The Republican Party has laser-focused on transgender inclusion as something that it wants to roll back, and so the exciting addition of the first openly trans member of Congress has prompted a hideous response — which is [for them] to participate in an ad hominem attack that takes the form of exclusion,” said Kate Redburn, co-director of the Center for Gender and Sexuality Law at Columbia Law School.

Democrats have at times struggled to respond to the barrage of Republican attacks. However, in the last week, they seem to have landed on an approach out of McBride’s own playbook in Delaware — where she won a statewide congressional seat not by running away from her transgender identity and support for queer rights, but by contextualizing them alongside other important issues, such as the cost of living and access to healthcare.

Rep. Ayanna Pressley (D-Mass.) said she will be proud to serve alongside Rep.-elect Sarah McBride.

(Jose Luis Magana / Associated Press)

“They should take a page out of Rep-Elect McBride’s book,” Pressley wrote, “and focus on actually governing.”

House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries (D-N.Y.) similarly questioned Republicans’ decision to start the next Congress by “bullying” McBride instead of focusing on real issues. “This is what we’re doing?” he said.

Rep. Jan Schakowsky (D-Ill.), who has a transgender grandson and has been outspoken against past anti-LGBTQ+ measures, hit a similar note in an interview Thursday, in which she called the Republican measures attacking McBride “absolutely outrageous” and “completely out of line.”

Rep. Jan Schakowsky (D-Ill.) called the measures attacking McBride “absolutely outrageous” and “completely out of line.”

(Andrew Harnik / Associated Press)

In her own remarks, McBride has acknowledged what many view as the bigotry at the root of the Republican measures, but also tried to refocus the conversation on getting things done for her constituents. 

“I’m not here to fight about bathrooms. I’m here to fight for Delawareans and to bring down costs facing families,” she said in a statement Wednesday. She said Johnson’s rules were an “effort to distract from the real issues facing this country,” but that she wouldn’t let them distract her — even as she follows them.

On Thursday, she made clear that she will work to ensure Capitol Hill is safe for everyone, including her LGBTQ+ constituents, but doesn’t plan on allowing “a right wing culture war machine” to turn her identity “into the issue.”

Lisa Goodman, a longtime LGBTQ+ activist in Delaware and friend of McBride’s, said the representative-elect’s family and friends back home “are disappointed that this is how people who are going to be her colleagues are greeting her.”

But they aren’t worried, Goodman said, because they know McBride is capable of navigating such waters.

“She can handle these attacks and keep focused on what is the big picture — what is important in the big picture — like no one I have ever met,” Goodman said.

Goodman said McBride has a rare talent for winning over people, which will serve her well in the coming months, as she gets to know her new colleagues — Democrats and Republicans alike.

“She’s just a deeply good person, and my hope is that, as her Republican colleagues in Congress get to know her, they will see her as a person and not as some unknown member of the trans community who they feel it’s OK to attack,” Goodman said.

Balint said several Republican House members have told her in private that they support the LGBTQ+ community and don’t support divisive policies. She said she hopes McBride’s kindness and humanity in the face of such attacks will bring those Republicans to her side — and maybe even inspire them to take a stand for her.

“It is their time to finally show some courage,” Balint said. “I’m asking them to stand up for the basic, inherent dignity of all of us here in this building.”

Times staff writer Andrea Castillo, in Washington, contributed to this report.

Rep. McBride's grace and political savvy are good signs for trans rights everywhere. If anyone can enlighten these conservative weirdos, she can. At least the ones that aren't there just to be culture warriors.

[mariacallous]

oh hey you're a bitch who cares about Michigan,

https://www.detroitnews.com/story/news/politics/2023/09/29/michigan-republican-party-faces-financial-turmoil-bank-records-show/71003017007/

the Michigan GOP is broke as hell and is robbing their federal election account to pay the light bill and shit.

Lansing — The Michigan Republican Party had about $35,000 in its bank accounts in August, according to internal records that flash new warning signs about the dire state of the GOP's finances and raise questions about whether the organization is complying with campaign finance laws.

The documents, obtained by The Detroit News, cover from February when party Chairwoman Kristina Karamo took office through Aug. 10, about six weeks before the party's Mackinac Republican Leadership Conference and about five months into Karamo's term.

The party has regularly transferred money from an account that's usually focused on federal elections to other accounts to afford expenses, according to the records. And earlier this year, Karamo's 2022 secretary of state campaign loaned the party's federal account $15,000 after that account's balance turned negative. The transaction wasn't reported in disclosures from the campaign or the party's federal committee.

A listing of Michigan Republican Party account balances from West Michigan Community Bank showed $35,051 across seven accounts, with expenses for many of the scheduled speakers at the Sept. 22-24 conference on Mackinac Island not yet paid, including author Dinesh D'Souza and unsuccessful former Arizona candidate for governor Kari Lake.

At this point, 13 months before a presidential election, the Michigan Republican Party should have about $10 million in its accounts, said Tom Leonard, a former Michigan House speaker and former finance chairman for the state GOP.

The party had less than 1% of the $10 million target.

"These numbers demonstrate that the party isn't just broke, but broken," Leonard said. "Given (Democratic President) Joe Biden's unpopularity, Republicans can still have a successful cycle, but it's clear they won't be able to rely on the Michigan Republican Party."

Karamo and a Michigan Republican Party spokesman didn't respond to requests for comment for this story.

But the severe financial problems and Karamo's handling of them helped prompt Warren Carpenter, a businessman and former chairman of the 9th Congressional District's Republican committee, to issue a statement, emphasizing that he had no "formal involvement" in the Mackinac conference.

With only two weeks before the conference, Karamo's team had asked Carpenter, a former Karamo supporter and donor from Oakland County, to help with the event, which traditionally costs about $700,000 to put on.

At that time, Carpenter said he was told the party had $30,000 in its accounts but still had to pay Lake $20,000 for speaking, pay D'Souza $28,000 and repay a loan of $110,000 for actor Jim Caviezel's speaking fee. Carpenter said he advised party leaders to cut D'Souza from the lineup to save money.

Carpenter said his principles eventually inspired him to not want to be involved in the conference.

"After consulting extensively with my attorney, I have been strongly advised to cease all communications and interactions with the team leading the Mackinac Leadership Conference," Carpenter wrote in a statement to GOP leaders. "This decision stems from the unsettling possibility of how the Mackinac Leadership Conference is being administered could result in both personal and legal repercussions."

Carpenter resigned as chairman of the 9th District committee on Tuesday.

'Significant challenges'

D'Souza ultimately didn't appear at the conference after the party sent out an email promoting him as a speaker as recently as Sept. 17, five days before the gathering on Mackinac Island began.

Also, D'Souza was still listed as one of the speakers on the party's website on Friday, five days after the conference ended and he didn't participate. Regular attendees had to pay $125 to $275 to register for the event, a price that didn't include the cost of a hotel on Mackinac Island.

During the conference, Dan Hartman, the Michigan Republican Party's general counsel, said he couldn't say why D'Souza didn't show up at the event.

As for the party's finances, the Michigan GOP had previously been primarily funded by 17 people or organizations, Hartman said. The party is in a state of transition, and the past leaders had thrown up "significant challenges" for the new grassroots-driven team, he added.

"Now, what's happened is it's rank-and-file and volunteers," Hartman said of the party's new leadership.

Michigan GOP delegates elected Karamo, a favorite among the grassroots wing of the party, chairwoman in February. While past chairs have been former elected officials and business leaders, Karamo is a former educator from Oak Park who lost a race for secretary of state by 14 percentage points to Democratic incumbent Jocelyn Benson in November. Plus, Karamo has been openly critical of some of the state's largest GOP donors.

Asked about the party's finances on Sept. 23, Hartman referred a Detroit News reporter to the state GOP's budget committee, but he said the party had the money it needed to get by. Dan Bonamie, chairman of the budget committee, refused to answer questions that same day when approached by the reporter inside the Grand Hotel.

During a closed-door state committee meeting on Sunday, the final day of the Mackinac conference, Karamo spoke about the health of the Michigan Republican Party's finances, according to a recording of the meeting obtained by The News.

"The party is not going bankrupt," Karamo told state committee members.

Murky finances

In July, Bonamie informed other Republicans at a meeting in Clare the party had about $93,000 in its bank accounts and was working on paying outstanding debt, according to a recording previously obtained by The News.

It's not clear in the bank records, which cover accounts launched by Karamo's team, how much debt remains. But the records do show about $90,000 in the accounts in early July when Bonamie gave his report.

In March, just after she became chairman in February, Karamo told a group the party had $460,000 in debt from the past leadership team.

Having debt is not unusual for the state GOP after a competitive election. But what is unusual, according to longtime Michigan Republicans, is the struggle the party in a key battleground state is having collecting money.

The bank documents show that multiple Michigan Republican Party accounts have fallen into the red at points this year, and Karamo's leadership team has frequently transferred money from one account to another to meet obligations.

In the past, the party has used its "administrative" account, which can raise money from corporate donors in secret, to fund the Mackinac conference, according to campaign finance disclosures. But this year, the party used its federal campaign account, which is usually focused on races for federal offices, such as Congress and president, and has to disclose its donors, according to campaign finance disclosures.

The biggest deposit in the "administrative" account this year was $10,007 on July 8, according to the bank records, which don't show where the money came from. The account's balance hasn't reached above $16,000, according to the records.

Ahead of the 2021 Mackinac conference, there were significant six-figure corporate sponsorships, former Michigan Republican Party Executive Director Jason Roe previously told The News.

Across April and May, the party's federal account paid the Grand Hotel $109,496 for the conference. The party disclosed the payments in federal campaign finance reports.

By Aug. 9, the party's federal account had a balance of $44,329, according to the bank records. But on Aug. 10, the party's federal account paid the Grand Hotel another $65,854, temporarily putting the account's balance at -$21,524, according to the records.

The party received $31,980 that same day from an unlisted source, pushing the account balance back up to about $11,000 on Aug. 10, according to bank records.

Moving money

The party's state bank account, which is usually focused on state-level races, had about $5,256 remaining as of Aug. 10, according to the bank records.

The account would be the one the party uses next year to get involved in campaigns for control of the state House. Currently, Democrats hold a narrow 56-54 seat majority in the chamber. Every seat will be on the ballot in 2024.

The Michigan GOP's state account had a negative balance as recently as June 14, according to the records. But the party quickly transferred $7,400 from the federal account to the state account, giving it a positive balance of $6,683.

Overall, the Michigan Republican Party transferred $31,400 from the federal account to the state account from April 12 through Aug. 10, the records show. Other than the transfers, the largest deposit in the account over the period was $250, the records show, indicating the party's fundraising is primarily happening through the federal account and then money is being moved elsewhere.

Karamo's "chair" account has received $11,400 in transfers from the federal account, according to the records.

The transfers from the federal account to other state party accounts don't appear to be detailed in the Michigan Republican Party's federal campaign finance disclosures.

As of June 30, the Michigan Republican Party reported its federal fundraising committee had $146,931 cash on hand. The bank records showed the federal bank account had about $66,278 at that point.

Using money in a federal party account for expenditures that wouldn't require reporting under federal law because they weren't related to federal politics would be an accounting "nightmare," said Mark Brewer, an elections lawyer and former chairman of the Michigan Democratic Party.

"You just risk breaking the law every time you do something like that," Brewer said of having to track financial totals while moving money in and out of the account.

In July, the Federal Election Commission asked the Michigan Republican Party why its financial tallies for the federal committee appeared to be incorrect. On Sept. 11, the party said it was working to address the question.

The Michigan Republican Party told the commission it "has gone through a series of administration transitions this year."