#our administration makes me want to fucking die

[thecolorblockcurator]

It’s taking a lot of effort to not block anyone tagging my art as q slur.

It sounds like a lot of you might might need to learn some queer history. Which is fine - there is no shame in learning our history. We don’t get taught it- you have to go and specifically look for it.

It’s also important to note- Every single lgbtqia+ community label has been thrown back at us as slur. There isn’t a single one that homophobic, transphobic people haven’t used in a derogatory way. If we collectively decided to call ourselves Humans as our only lgbtqia+ label - no doubt there would be hateful people screaming back at us. Those types of people hate us - and no matter how sanitized, and pure - and free from any stigma you present your queer self - they will still hate us.

Queer was strategically chosen as an umbrella term during the protests in the late 1980 & 90s. If you’re not aware of the AIDS crisis- please learn about it. It was brutal -and the disgusting response from the government, conservatives, religious extremists was - they were happy that it was happening. They let hundreds of thousands of queer people die because they thought we deserved it. It was a truly horrific medical emergency that was purposefully ignored for many years.

So “We’re here, we’re queer, we’re not going to disappear.” became one of the slogans people would yell during marches and protests.

Queer was chosen because it wasn’t sterilized, sanitized, it wasn’t an assimilated, quiet version of being lgbtqia+. It was fucking in your face queer.

You couldn’t ignore it- we weren’t going to hide away in shame, or keep things wrapped up in secret like previous generations. Homophobic , transphobic people had to deal with the fact that queer people existed- and would always exist & there was nothing they could do or say to change that.

Because that’s exactly what they wanted. They wanted assimilation, or total nonexistence of all queer people. And unfortunately they still do.

Which is why seeing “the q slur” is so messed up. It’s giving that sanitized, reagan administration evangelical morality - homophobic, transphobic people everything they had hoped for. A fear based response of - if I make make myself as palatable as possible will you finally respect me?

Here is an amazing photo by Dan Nicolette that I think encapsulates that idea of what queer meant. I’m not going disappear, make myself easier for you homophobes to digest.

[jennas-stuffs]

our little secret: mission impossible

TW: unprotected sex, piv, fingering, hickey-making, nipple-sucking, brief head (fem receiving), fluff, fem reader.

authors note: this is my first time writing smut so i’m definitely open to tips and constructive criticism 😭

i can’t believe i’m saying this but im actually excited about a college class this year. i’ve always loved criminology, i watched basically every tv series there is containing it growing up. so it’s safe to say i didn’t hate the actual subject my last three years, i just hated the professor. ok sure i doze off every now and then but i know my stuff. it’s just that, he doesn’t believe i do. just because he’s some super genius only a year older than me and already teaching people doesn’t mean that he gets to be the only smart one. enough about him because my complaints have finally been heard and the administration finally finally let me switch classes. i can finally be rid of him. i walk into class with my head up high only to find my posture slump down and my smile fade into a frown.

“hello again y/n, you didn’t think you would get rid of me that easily huh?”

what the actual fuck. what the fuck happened.

“i thought i was switching classes.” i say with my jaw shut tight

“i promised the admins that they wouldn’t have to do all that because i would make it work. also it doesn’t look too good for me when one of my students transfers out my class because we were having ‘altercations.’

the sound of every word out of his mouth is almost identical to the sound of nails on a chalkboard. i nod so he can shut up and angrily stomp to a seat. out of spite, i nap my way through his class and to my surprise i wake up to the sound of the bell signaling my next class. i wake up confused, “why didn’t he wake me up? he always does, he loves disturbing my beauty sleep.” i shake it off and pick up the class paperwork i’ll have to make up along with my homework. a week passes by with undisturbed sleep, this is just getting weird. maybe this is what he meant by making it work. if it is, i’ll have to stay i expected more from him. hes so professional and strict, as would anyone expect coming from an ex-fbi agent. i mean this guy literally saw people die in front of him, and didn’t one of the serial killers set him up to be put in jail? what does he think he’s doing letting me sleep in his class? i should confront him. if he wants me in his class, he’s gonna have to earn it. he thought he could have the easy way out with me, oh no no no. i make a plan to set an appointment with him at the end of the day.

his office is neat and organized like i expected. too bad his freakishly tidy desk is gonna get a glimpse of this sleep deprived, angsty, college student.

we sit down and he quickly releases an exhale.

“so i’m assuming this meeting is about our non-existent altercations, because your grades are great, y/n. i haven’t started a feud just yet so what’s going on?”

i stand up rapidly, pushing my seat backwards. i slam my hand on his desk, leaving a mark on his papers, not like i care though.

“good job figuring that one out professor genius. so listen up. if you think just letting me sleep thorough your class is gonna prevent me from complaining to the admins again, think again. you probably think this is the easy way out so you don’t have to actually work it out with me well guess what. that’s extremely unprofessional. and in all honesty i expected more from you. im disappointed, professor reid. i guess your retired days from the fbi really tore you down huh? you don’t have that same spark in you- you”

“i know about your nightmares y/n.”

…

“what?”

“i’m retired from the fbi, correct. from the behavioral analysis unit. i can still profile people you know. from what i’ve noticed, you barley get any sleep and run on coffee. the work you miss in class you use as an excuse to stay up late at night to procrastinate on the sleep you know will wake you up in cold sweat the next morning. the only good sleep you seem to get, is the one in my class. see, i used to mind the fact that you were just sleeping though my lectures but it’s never interfered with your grade. so, i figured since it’s your last year of college and all i would allow my period to be your nap time.”

…

i sit down shamefully and shrink in my seat. i’m so embarrassed. he was just trying to help me and i snapped at him. i feel like an idiot.

“im so sorry. and thank you. thank you so much.”

one more word and i’ll burst out crying. i quickly pick up my bag and head for the door. but my wrist is grabbed by a warm hand.

“wait, y/n?”

i turn around to meet his eyes and pray he doesn’t notice the extra liquid in them.

i clear my throat, “yes professor reid?”

my wrist hasn’t been released yet.

“are you getting help for the- you know.”

“um i used to when i was little and it helped and they went away, but it came back.”

“when?”

“since i started college.”

“can you sit back down please, i just want to talk.”

here he is being so helpful and i’ve been hating him this whole time. when he wasn’t worried for my grades, he was worried for my sleep, and when he isn’t worried for my sleep, he’s worried for my mental health. i feel like such a petty bitch.

my wrist is released and we sit down.

we talk for hours and hours and he tells me stories of when he was an agent. i’ve never laughed so much in my life. we trade in our top worst and best moments in our lives when he realizes…

“wait so, sorry, if this is crossing a line and feel free to not answer but you’ve had boyfriends. but you’ve never had sex?”

“yeahh that’s accurate. it’s just everytime i think about someone seeing me naked i just get tense, like, just the thought of it makes me squirm.”

“so you have body image issues?”

“woww way to be slick with that one profiler, but sure, i guess.”

he laughs. and this laugh was different from all the other ones because it was this laugh i realized i don’t hate his voice anymore. it actually sounds, nice.

“so you’re telling me you’ve tried everything, all your therapists have given you medication and nothing really stuck?”

“i’m a lost cause doc.”

“don’t say that.”

…

“you know you haven’t tried everything.”

“sex makes me barf. no way.”

“hey a pretty girl like you can easily find some college guy to mess around with. don’t be so closed minded y/n.”

“mhm because you’ve had so much experience.”

his face goes pink.

“how did you know?”

“what? no i was kidding. wait. you’ve never had sex either? YOU HYPOCRITE!”

“it’s much easier said than done.”

“hey, a handsome guy like yourself can easily find some girl to mess around with. don’t be so closed minded professor.”

“spencer”

“what?”

“in my office, you can call me spencer”

“okay, spencer, how about we make a deal.”

“what kind of deal?” he says with a raised eyebrow

“the first to have sex is the better person because they are not a hypocrite.”

“that sounds like mission impossible but. ok. fine. deal.”

“REALLY? i was just joking but OKAY DEAL.”

we shake hands and i go back to my dorm and sleep. i slept, better, that night.

we check in with each other everyday to see if the other person won yet.

“has mission impossible been completed professor?”

“nope. what about you y/n?”

“nope.”

that’s not all we did, though. we went out to cafes to talk about life and how us virgins are channeling that sex energy into some other thing. seeing professor reid, i mean spencer, outside of school was weird. all of sudden his eyes were easier to look into. i just couldnt get enough of them. it was like i was drowning in them. don’t get me started on that voice paired with that cute face. i could just snuggle myself up into each word that came out of his mouth. but we had that same check up conversation everyday after class for a whole month until…

“hey y/n?”

“yeah?”

“are you free by the end of the day i wanna talk to you in my office”

“what happened to meeting up at the cafe? wait. did i miss an assignment? i’m so sorry i’ll make it up i swear.”

he smiles and laughs. that beautiful laugh. “no no i just wanna talk in a more private setting. you know how people can eavesdrop in cafes.”

“oh yeah sure i’ll see you then.”

“see you.”

WHY DID I SAY SURE? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME. THAT WHOLE REASON WHY I NEEDED US TO BE IN A CAFE WAS BECAUSE IT WAS PUBLIC. i can’t help myself when i see him. i know it’s wrong because he’s my teacher but he’s just a year older? i’m trying to justify these feelings for him but i can’t. i can’t help it. he’s so nice to me and i don’t deserve it, i just wanna repay him. no,nonononono. i can’t. not in that way. i have a meeting with him and it’s in his office so it’s strictly professional.

…

“hey y/n”

“hi professor”

he raises an eyebrow.

“hi spencerr, ” i say as i roll my eyes.

“ok good so uh.”

he pulls his chair and adjusts mine so that we’re sitting face to face, with no desk in the middle. god, this is gonna be a long meeting for me.

“i think we’re gonna have to switch your class”

“what?! why! we just started getting along don’t ruin it now!”

truthfully, i wouldn’t mind. all this tension i felt would definitely tone down if i didn’t see him so much. but i wanna see him, i love the butterflies he give me. it’s just so annoying i can’t do anything to ‘relieve’ them.

“well we’re just too friendly now, there’s barley any teacher-student boundaries.”

“are you serious. YOU’RE THAT ONE THAT INSISTS I CALL YOU BY YOUR FIRST NAME.”

he smiles “it’s not only that”

“you’ve chewed up my heart by making me switch classes, so, spit it out.”

“i think i like you.”

my heart feels like it’s gonna pop out of my chest, my pussy throbes and my stomach get butterflies. i get this overwhelming feeling of kissing him. but i can’t. we can’t. we shouldn’t. i look to the door and i look back at him. i stand up and walk up to the door, and lock it. i close the blinds and look at him.

“i like you too spencer.”

he grabs me by the waist and pins me to the door. we’re half a centimeter away from each others lips. looking at each others eyes and looking back down at each others lips.

“we shouldn’t.”

he nods, “we shouldn’t”

we slam each others lips against each other, making me let out the dirtiest of moans. he looks down on me and watches me unfold underneath him.

“you’re just a hot mess for me hm?”

i whimper and notice the throbbing feeling in my pussy intensify. it’s a hot steamy make out scene in his pretty little office, and i wonder how badly we can mess it up.

“spencer?” i gasp, barley having enough breath between kisses.

“fuck. say my name again please y/n.”

i moan, “spencer”

“again baby”

i cry out “spencer”

he says in his sweet voice “yes y/n?”

“fuck me.” i say in a whimper

and with those two words he kicks off his shoes and kisses me again. i mirror him taking off his clothes, working is way down, and up. once we’re both completely stripped he takes a second to look me up and down.

“you’re beautiful. all this time you’ve been hiding this?”

he bends his knees in front of me and kisses my breasts. i giggle at the feeling it gives me, similar to a tickle. he is just so sweet it melts me. while making out we move to his desk, where he pushes all his papers to the floor. he lays me down and my skin winces at the coldness of the wood. he’s sucks on my top lip, bottom lip, my jawline, my neck, my collarbone, making his way down to my nipples. i whimper, feeling his tongue go around in circles. i let out a loud moan, almost a scream, and notice the sudden arch my back went into when he starts to suck. he plans to leave every intimate place on my body with a hickey.

“you wanna leave marks on me spencer?”

he nods, making his way to the other nipple.

it’s just the sound of my whining and his sucking in his office, he breaks the silence for a second.

“i wanna show everyone you’re mine.”

then immediately goes back to sucking.

“my neck shows that enough-mm- spencer.”

“spencer… ohh spencer”

“yes y/n”

“feel me.”

that seems to have gotten him to stop sucking and he sticks to fingers up my throbbing pussy. i whimper at the motion.

“so wet, all of this for me?”

“mhm all for you”

he moves his fingers up and down, making me become a moaning, whining, whimpering, ‘hot’, mess again.

“spencer?”

“yes baby”

“i need you inside me.”

he looks down on me and suddenly the innocent light in his eyes disappear, witnessing a dark cloudy haze rolling in, covering his eyes.

“oh yeah?”

too far deep in the storm that is his eyes to speak, i simply nod. plus, that “oh yeah?” left me FOLDED.

he leaves a trail of kisses on my inner thighs, making me squirm. i feel the heat on his breath when he sticks out his tongue and sucks my core. he sits up and holds his dick, moving the the tip up and down against my folds.

“damn it spencer,” sounding like a whining brat, “stick it in already.”

he slams it in, thrusting forcefully, but slowly.

“faster.”

“yes baby”

i moan, grabbing his hair for support while my back arches even more, begging for more.

he speeds up, faster and faster, filling the office with the sound of unholy clicking, and not the type of clicking that comes from a clock. wet clicking.

i keep moaning his name…

“spencer, spencer, spencer?, oh fuck spencer, yes, please, fuck, fuck, spencer, i’m gonna cum im gonna cum, spencer.”

my head jolts back as he rails me through my orgasm.

…

now we’re laying on top of each other on his, now, filthy desk, covered in our cum and sweat. as we catch our breath i say unconsciously out loud,

“oh shit.”

i feel his laugh vibrating from his chest to mine.

“no, spencer, this is bad.”

“why?”

i sit up now realizing the mistake i made. he mirrors my action with a concerned expression.

“isn’t there some kind of rule in the university’s handbook that forbids students from having sexual relations with their teachers? i mean that’s considering that an average professor would be much older than them, usually it would be illegal anyways. do you think they would make some sort of exception? wait, do you think we’d have to tell them? will i get suspended? will you loose your job? oh my god, ok. so what if… what?”

he keeps staring at me rambling with a goofy smile plastered on his face that’s suppressing a laugh.

“whattt?”

“you know no one has to know about this, right?”

“but what if someone finds out?”

“y/n, what time did i have you come meet me in this office?”

“7pm”

“mhm.”

my eyes widen at the realization.

“ok so you made me come over when you knew the office would be closed just so you could confess your feelings to me, in your office, when the building was closed and everyone went back home?”

“yeah.”

“you know you could’ve just invited me over to your place. you didn’t have to make it so complicated.”

“well our situation is complicated, and if we want to continue to explore this ‘situation,’ we’re gonna have to be sneaky.”

i feel my face heating up.

“soo your likee my secret loverrrr”

he cracks a smile.

“i guess this’ll be our little secret.”

…

after we get back in our clothes and walk out together to our cars, he turns to me and says,

“hey y/n, have you completed mission impossible?”

“yup, what about you?”

“yeah, same.”

😱😱😱 THE END 😱😱😱

[sleepybabybees]

Some more ft kortac and Los vaqueros (Farah and Alex too-)

Alejandro : Who the fuck-

Rodolfo : Language!

Alejandro : Whom the fuck-

Rodolfo : No.

----------

Alejandro : This bloodline ends with me.

Rodolfo : That's the fanciest way I've ever heard someone say "I'm gay".

-----------

Rodolfo : You’ve got to learn to love yourself.

Alejandro : But don't you hate yourself.

Rodolfo : Yeah, but this is about you. Stay focused.

-----------

Alejandro : Look, I’m glad everyone’s on the same page.

Alejandro : But it’s the last page in a book titled “we’re all going to die”.

Rodolfo : That’s not even clever.

----------

Alejandro : BE A BETTER PERSON!

Rodolfo : WHY?!

Alejandro : BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE MORALS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP, AND IT SURE AS FUCK AIN'T GONNA BE ME, SWEETHEART!

---------

Alejandro , throwing his head into Rodolfo 's lap: Tell me I'm pretty!

Rodolfo , lovingly stroking his hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

---------

Farah: What? I'm not aggressive!

Alex: Last Tuesday, you wacked me with a pair of crocs and stole my chocolate chips?

Farah: Survival of the fittest, bitch.

---------

Alex: Who's in charge here?

Farah, shrugging: Usually whoever yells the loudest.

--------

Farah, texting: Alex, will you please go to sleep?

Alex, texting back: What makes you think you didn’t just wake me up?

Farah, yelling: I CAN HEAR YOU CLAPPING TO THE FRIENDS THEME EVERY TWENTY MINUTES SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!

Farah, texting: Just a hunch :) You goin’ to sleep soon?

Alex, texting: I’m trying

Farah, yelling again: TRY HARDER I HAVE A 5:45 AM MEETING TOMORROW BITCH

Farah, texting: Okay, don’t stay up too late or you’ll be cranky :)

-----------

Alex: Do you love me?

Farah: We’re literally married.

Alex: Yeah, but as friends or—

-----------

Horangi: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free: pouring river water in your socks!

Konig: Why would I do that?

Horangi: It’s quick, it’s easy, and it’s free!

---------

Soap: Lol. Heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you’ll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this.

Ghost: What did you do, soap?

Soap: a Mistake.

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

Gaz: So... what would you do if you were in bed with me?

Roach: Depends. Is your bed comfortable?

Gaz: Yes.

Roach: I'd sleep.

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

Price: Wow, I feel happy and I’m having so much fun!

Price:

Price: *narrows eyes* Something’s wrong here.

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

Price: The dinosaurs didn’t rule the earth they were just alive. Stop giving them credit for administration skills they didn’t have.

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

Ghost: I don’t think our death ray is working. I’m standing right in it, and I’m not dead yet.

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

Farah: I ran into Alex in the kitchen at 1 AM last night and when I asked him what he was doing, he just shrugged, said “these are my roaming hours,” and wandered off, strumming vaguely on a guitar...

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

Soap: I’m gonna kill you.

Ghost: Get in line!

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

Farah: I'm gonna need a human skull but you can't ask why.

Alex: Only if you also don't ask why.

Alex: *pulls four pristine human skulls out of his bag*

Farah: ...

Farah, grabbing a skull: This one will do.

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

Alex: It’s nice to be wanted, you know?

Soap: Not by the law!

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

Ghost: I have an idea.

Alex: A good idea?

Ghost: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

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

Farah: If you get in trouble, I'm gonna be like... a lawyer to you. Ok?

Alex: Okay.

*later*

Ghost: Alex! Sit down on the chair, you're in trouble.

Farah, whispering: Deny everything.

Alex, loudly: That isn't a chair.

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

*While the Squad is in a battle*

Alex, trying to warn about the location of an enemy: To the left!

Soap: Take it back now y'all!

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

Gaz: I told Roach that their ears turn red when they lie.

Price: Do they?

Gaz: No.

Price: Then why did you tell them that?

Gaz: Because I can do this.

Gaz: Hey Roach! Do you love us?

Roach, with their hands over their ears: No.

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

Roach: What have I done wrong?!

Ghost: Everything. For your entire life.

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

Soap: Hey! Wanna hear a joke?

Roach: Sure.

Soap: Your life!

Roach: Actually, my life isn’t a joke, jokes have meaning.

Soap: Roach, no.

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

Horangi: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine!

Konig: How can you still say that?

Horangi: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have.

----------

Konig: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?

Horangi: It was autocorrect.

Konig: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?

Horangi: Yes.

-----------

Horangi, texting Konig: Konig there’s a moth on the outside of the bathroom door can you get rid of it?

Horangi: Pls hurry because I’m going to cry

Horangi: Konig

Horangi: Konig

Konig: Konig is dead. You’re next. Love, Moth.

[hogwartspleiad]

Say My Name | Stardust!AU

also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53021149

"What would it be today?", chuckled Sirius, comfortably grabbing a really-fucking-big coffee cup and playing with a marker in his left hand, littered with rings. James knows (it was a Very Big Secret) that they did cost Sirius, like, a thousand fights with the administrator - though he won the right to keep them in the end.

James frowns and sighs as dramatically as possible: he almost fell asleep at 3 a.m. playing with Frank in the Net, spilled his morning tea onto his favourite shirt, now having to put on a different, absolutely mongrel blue-with-white-stripes one. He almost forgot a folder with documents in a cab - he wanted to check out the papers over the weekend, - and there are most definitely two very boring and useless board meetings in his future today. So, two shots, please. Right in the head. With additional final blows, if you please.

Sirius raises his brow. James sighs. Again.

“Black”, he whispers, trying to sound as grim as possible. “Like my soul and the centre of our Universe.”

Sirius smiles with just the corner of his lips and doesn't turn like any normal person would. He tilts his head back, checking for supplies - now weirdly resembling a humanisation of his nickname.

Big Black Dog, really.

“I’m afraid we’re fresh out of the shitton of foamed milk, darling, and this is so not a kindergarten bar,” he snorts, looking normal again.

James almost shoves him. The counter stops him. That, and some basic decency mixed with zero agreement of calling each other friends or whatever. Disregard the fact that every morning, noon and night - for the last six months with 12-hours shifts, mind you, - they did moan (sarcastically) at the transience of life.

“Such a shame, peaches. You’d make an excellent babysitter,” James grins. In a beat, he adds edge house, makes the voice a little thinner and practically squeaks: “Siwy, Siwy, I swear that it was Pete who hit himsewf with a rattwe. Twice. Don’t bwame me!”

Startled, Sirius coughs, and now it’s James’ turn to raise a brow.

“Oh hell no,” the barista lifts his hands placatingly. “First of all, I’d make a terrible babysitter, and secondly - don’t you lie to me, young man!” he frowns for a moment and then relaxes, feeling sorta relieved. “FYI, I’m still waiting for your order.”

There’s a doorbell ringing somewhere behind James, and he straightens up, stopping messing about. God, he’s tired.

“Just make it a double Americano with milk. And a filthy amount of caramel syrup, else I’ll fucking die withing first 30 working minutes.”

Sirius snorts. It’s an understanding kind of a snort, though.

“And today’s name would be..?”

James tilts his head, thoughtfully drumming the finger on the table. In fact, he knows which name he’ll use to take the order for, but, in the end, the appearance of lazy thought and erudition (which was, in fact, the result of fanatical preparation) is part of his inimitable charm.

“Alsciaukat,” he proudly announces.

For some reason, Sirius chokes on a gurgling laugh, writing the name on the cup.

James grins triumphantly and moves into the waiting area, leaning against the tall counter with pots of Sansivieria built into the center, bobbing his head to the beat of The Last Shadow Puppets.

He loves this coffee shop. Sometimes, only the presence of Stardust on the ground floor of a neighboring building reconciled him with the disgusting “from nine to Fridays wine” routine of a marketing analyst. A small, incredibly cozy coffee shop with an abundance of flowers and stars inside, which were glowing softly with the onset of dusk or bad weather, was a hundred thousand times better than any other coffee shop in this city. Seriously, Starbucks was way overrated.

Moreover, James couldn’t help but admire the special advertising move: even the barista here had a special star nickname. Could you blame him for wanting to match the aesthetics of the place? That's what he thought. It is forbidden. Strictly. So - yeah, he’s justified in all respects of the star atlas and its appendices, heh.

So, during the six months of their close acquaintance with Sirius, James managed to go through almost all the star charts with the names of rare constellations and nebulae. Last month his name could have been Mr. Orion, tomorrow - Wasat, next week - Kratz, and today- Well. A little of the courage and grace of Lynx would definitely not hurt him.

Sirius knew for sure that none of the suggested names were real, but for some reason he didn't mind their little game. It was fun; like a game of ping pong.

When James gets his deliciously hot and huge coffee cup back, he throws an emphatic look at Sirius, who just winks slyly and takes off to his new customer. 

The cup proudly says: “Quetzalcoatl.”

James laughs briefly, shakes his head and, comfortably grabbing the paper folder, leaves the coffee shop, automatically holding the door for some guy entering.

Tuesday doesn't turn out any better. He stays in the office until late at night, arguing with Peter until he is hoarse about the new reports and stag-ing for another couple of hours in an almost empty building, summing up the latest figures. Because, one doesn't simply warn him in advance, and the bosses needed the presentation first thing in the morning.

Screw those planning meetings. Screw them.

When he finally turns off the monitor and looks at the digital clock on the wall, the numbers are floating. Or are they?

He blinks. Twice.

The dial stubbornly shows two in the morning.

James sighs very, very deeply and can barely contain his Indian swearing. As an edification, he could stay in Pete’s office and stretch out on his sofa - demonstratively, so that in the morning, in a languid, creaky voice, he could say “Good morning, darling, I hope you slept as sweetly as I did,” and no less demonstratively creak all his bones, but... He’s almost two meters tall. He’ll most likely die from curling up on the hard leather sofa of little round Pete.

James sighs and rubs his face with his fingers until it hurts. He needs to get home. Preferably, not falling asleep somewhere on the way to the subway. Was it really that necessary to take the car in for maintenance at such a time?..

He throws his jacket over his shoulders, locks the office on autopilot and practically falls asleep in the elevator as it rushes from the thirteenth floor down. Somehow unsticking himself from the incredibly seductive chrome-plated wall, he steps over the threshold of the building and pauses, puzzled.

Stardust, in the building across, glows softly with lit stars inside.

For some reason, James takes twenty-five long steps and gently pushes the door. It gives in.

Florence flows unusually softly inside, and James is surprised to recognize the Dog Days Are Over - way too perky for two o'clock in the morning. Although, when he sees him, the barista turns the music down and arches an eyebrow pointedly, pretending that it wasn’t him who was dancing slightly with his back to the door a minute ago.

The new barista's badge says "Regulus" in beautiful handwriting, and his fingers, studded with silver rings, are gently wrapped around the computer. James simply can't help but smile, too wide for this blasted night.

“Good evening!” he greets too cheerfully in response.

Regulus raises an eyebrow suggestively, and James feels his heart skip a beat. He’s going to be so fucked.

“Coffee?” the barista asks all too softly, and Potter, blinking three times to count, kinda experiences a small heart attack. Anyway, is it legal to kill guests outright? He, for example, would most definitely fall now and die - very suddenly and very happily - and there’s that, no more little twenty-five-years-old James Potter, and Pete will report tomorrow without him, because he, naturally, doesn’t give the keys to his computer to anyone, and in general-

Regulus asks again, and James hastily shakes his head, bringing himself back to reality.

“Coffee,” he repeats dully. “With milk and a whole lot of caramel syrup.“

Regulus chuckles quietly and James just as quietly dies inside.

“For whom?”

Oh, he's ready. He's so damn ready for this! James broadens his shoulders and uses his most charming smile.

“Orion.”

Regulus glances up at him so quickly that James literally feels two kill shots in his head he wished for earlier.

“Bad idea. Try again,” the barista says curtly, and Potter blinks in confusion. All his brilliant marketing brain can do is…

“…choko pie?”

The look of utter confusion on Regulus's face seems like the best thing that happened for this whole damn day. James perks up.

“How could Orion Choco Pie be a bad idea? C’mon, it’s the best sweet that humanity could come up with!”  he leans forward and conspiratorially lowers his voice. “Or haven't you tried?”

Regulus looks at him very, very strangely, then sighs dramatically. He writes something on the cup - demonstratively, but obediently - and turns away, switching on the coffee grinder.

James is absolutely delighted.

James is so delighted that  he cannot fall asleep until late in the morning again, and then has a brilliant planning meeting and an incredibly productive working day. When he gets out around midnight and Stardust softly shimmers with stars, James doesn't even think twice as he pushes the door inside.

Okay, in the end, James admits that he absolutely adores the morning Sirius, contently squinting in the sunrays and dancing near the coffee machine to Muse or Arctic Monkeys, but Regulus... If Sirius was a splash of sun, then Regulus was like the quintessence of stardust, the very heart of a quiet midnight coffee shop, and James...couldn't help himself.

“Diphda,” he smiles on Friday, leaning on the counter.

“Deneb Kaitos” is written on his cup in response.

“Okab,” he rubs his eyes tiredly on Monday night.

“Deneb el Okab,” flying handwriting on cardboard is accompanied by a small drawing of an eagle.

“Mirfak!” he blurts out, slightly out of breath, on Thursday, frantically trying to catch the other’s gaze.

On the cup he is greeted by a schematically depicted human elbow and a short note: “Algenib”.

It's like a game of ping pong, only for professionals. James feels a kind of impossible excitement and tries his best to live up to it.

Finally, he moves on to constellations, and then to the ingenious mathematical names of nebulae. And Regulus, unlike Sirius, is never, ever wrong.

“X Æ A-12,” he declares very seriously at some point, looking carefully at Regulus.

He looks from the marker to James slowly, almost reluctantly.

“You can’t pass off the name of Elon Musk’s son as the name of a new nebula,” he says evenly. James is dying from delight.

“What if Elon Musk named his son after a new nebula, and you just don’t know?” he winks at the barista.

Regulus looks at him as if James has grown a second head.

“Definitely not. Try again.”

And James has to return to the usual metaphorical game.

The only problem is that he can’t be satisfied with their usual jabs anymore. He thinks he’s going so crazy but dictates his number to Regulus as his name anyway. The barista only repeats it out loud and hands him the cup, without even thinking about keeping the number to himself. He doesn't seem to care.

The worst part is that James doesn't even notice when he makes a fatal mistake.

“Rex,” he introduces himself at some point and receives a completely unreadable look in response.

“You can’t call yourself by my name,” Regulus says coldly, adding the usual, “Try again.”

James frowns and puts his metaphorical horns down.

“Why?”

“Because.”

James chuckles.

“So be it, star stranger, I solemnly swear that I will choose another option if you tell me your real name,” Regulus arches a charming eyebrow. James explains, “I can swear it will be as lovely as your nickname.”

Something changes in the barista's gaze, and James frowns, uncomprehending. Regulus doesn't say a word when he hands him the coffee, with the immutable "Rex" written on the cup, faceless and printed.

He doesn't meet Regulus again. Stardust stops working in the evenings for a while, and James stupidly pokes at the locked door for a week. Eventually, he almost becomes convinced that he completely invented Regulus, and all this is a terrible, prolonged dream.

When the coffee shop opens again in the middle of the night after a month's hiatus, James doesn’t believe his eyes. He awkwardly takes a step, two, three, and for some reason pushes the door with trembling fingers.

A charming red-haired girl greets him from behind the counter.

“Good morning, night owl,” she smiles quietly, and James silently opens and closes his mouth, not knowing what to say. He glances at her name tag and freezes.

“Lily” is written on it.

“I… thought… everyone here has star nicknames?..” he blurts, and Lily glances incomprehensibly at her own badge, and then at James’s face. She laughs.

“What? Of course not, all the baristas here have their own, ordinary names.”

James groans quietly and hits his forehead on the counter.

“I’m such a… deer,” he confesses sadly to the stack of napkins at the cash register. “The deer-est deer in the world.”

“Sure, why not,” Lily chuckles cheerfully from somewhere above him, “To the deer-est deer in the world.”

The smile James gives the red sunspot - who, by the way, looks strangely out of place in this nightly atmosphere - is sour, but chuckles politely when she gives him a cup with carelessly drawn deer antlers.

Making up his mind, he calls out to her and awkwardly asks, chewing his lip:

“And Regulus… doesn’t work here anymore?”

Lily looks at him carefully, calculating, and then sighs:

“He is on vacation. Should be working in the mornings for a whole next week.”

And James smiles back at her, gratefully and sincerely.

A week and a half later, his mornings are difficult once again: he has little sleep and he is badly doused from a puddle by a passing truck. The clothes he has to change into are too white-collared, and he himself is disgustingly office-like and at the same time rumpled to represent at least some kind of positive impression. He sighs, wiping his somehow wet hands on his jacket, and pushes the door.

Regulus lifts his head at the ringing of the doorbell and stares unreadably into James's eyes. The latter smiles awkwardly.

Regulus sighs and takes the marker.

“To whom?” he asks coldly and indifferently.

James takes a deep breath, as if about to jump into icy water.

“James,” he says. “Potter, if it’s of any importance,” he adds awkwardly, ruffling his already disheveled hair.

Regulus glances at him, and James awkwardly places a small box of the best cookies in the world on the counter. A white flag.

Orion Choco Pie. ___________________________________________________

Alsciaukat - the fourth-brightest star in the constellation of Lynx;

Wasat - a.k.a. Delta Geminorum (δ Gem) , the primary component in a triple star system located in the constellation Gemini;

Kraz - a.k.a. Beta Corvi, the second-brightest star in the southern constellation of Corvus;

Diphda - a.k.a. Deneb Kaitos, the brightest star in the constellation of Cetus;

Okab - a star in the Aquila constellation;

Mirfak - the brightest star in the constellation of Perseus;

Rex - alternative name of Regulus, the brightest star in the constellation Leo the Lion.

[siriuslysatorusimping]

I was tagged 😃

So I have a bachelors and masters in applied psych and now am working towards a PhD in neuroscience :) I love love love it with every fiber of my being and I must be a masochist bc I LOVE the academic hazing that is grad school. I’m probably gonna end up teaching and doing research bc I don’t wanna stop being a student. How do Rinko and Gojo feel about grading btw? Hate it. Worst thing ever.

My focus is on brain imaging and stress in a special population of kids who are highly predisposed to developing schizophrenia, but I had to have a lot of training in psychopharmacology and general cognitive and behavioral science to begin with which is why I am so ready to nerd tf out with Rinko studying psych 😍

YOU ARE SO FUCKING SMART. HOLY SHIT. THAT IS SO FUCKING COOL.

Kiko ranted like a dumbass so hi, rest below the cut 🫠

I have a BA and MA in Technical Writing & Rhetoric with a minor in English Literature. HOWEVER. My grad research focus was actually user experience, which was born from human-computer interaction (a psychology major at my old school). Our department had the best user experience professor, so we had a lot of the HCI PhDs in our UX classes. I always loved talking to them and picking their brains. Part of me wishes I had gotten my PhD in HCI or a related field, but I needed out of academia. I fucking hated it. It was also in the height of COVID, which just destroyed all of my motivation for life itself lol

AS FOR GRADING: I FUCKING HATED IT, TOO.

listen.

when i was in grad school, i had 50+ papers to grade every couple of weeks and we had to have them graded within a certain time period or administration CAME FOR US AND IT WAS TERRIFYING.

But one time I left all 50 until the day before I was put on the hit list and I wanted to die. So I chugged two redbulls and proceeded to go on a grading marathon of like, 10 hours.

This AU is feeding my tiny desire to go back to school to keep me from making the giant financial mistake of trying to get my PhD when I know I'll hate academia just as much as I did last time.

I think Rinko will actually semi-enjoy grading, because she's the type who will be so intrigued to see how her students think.

Gojo hates it. But he also doesn't trust anyone else to do it right. Lucky for him, most of his exams are multiple-choice. But since it's physics they have to show their work, and he hates grading that shit because it becomes so obvious that they don't fucking know what they're doing.

(maybe one of the installments will be a cute, fluffy lil grading session where they're just keeping each other company 🥺)

[kobblefort]

Blackfaint: Rat World Forever

This is what happens when I click on the "PETITIONS" button, which no doubt is alerting me that the newly established farmers' guild wants a hall. I don't think your average player of the greatest simulation game of all time Dwarf Fortress is ever going to see this. It's kind of cursed, but it's kind of magical. I can't dismiss it, which will drive me crazy since it does that little "shimmering" animation. I suppose I'll just have to assume that making the guild hall nice enough will make it stop. I don't know, I'm not in a hurry to please them. Now if there was a herbalists' guild, though? Those are the guys holding it down.

Another strange mood takes another rat straight to the clothier's shop that made Eeteek go berserk and start the fight that ended in their death. I suppose Vatekeek Learnedmaligns thinks it will be fine for him which in my opinion is the proper rat world attitude.

Also, things were going too well for a minute there, so here come 9 lesser rodent people. I was telling this to someone earlier but I think that rats are pretty cool in real life. Rats are like dogs stuck in rodent bodies basically. But mice are horrible little skittering creeps that will randomly run out from the walls just to die in the middle of your fucking floor like oh do you mind if I randomly die here, if I just roll over and die in the middle of your fucking floor, well I'm going to do it if that's alright, actually me and my 100 little cousins thought it would be cool to just scamper around as fast as possible at 3 AM and then randomly suddenly die, there's no way to get us out besides doing chemical warfare on yourself, blame yourself for living in a garage even though it wasn't your idea and you didn't want to do it. So basically mice fucking suck and the rodent men, naturally, are mice, compared to us, the superior rats. And we're really gonna need to figure out a way to make sure they end up dead on the floor. Which should be totally doab

This sucks man

I'm not gonna sugarcoat it. The violence is fast and extreme and really fucking bad and we don't have nearly enough graves to start burying everyone. The only people who can really fight are the miners, and the mouse people brought actual steel spears this time: that's a huge advantage in range and damage. We're down to 13 rats. Considering I was thinking that we would actually get to 50 and then maybe that would let our rats elect a mayor of some sort which would maybe let me use the Nobles & Administrator screen and its myriad functions, this is a pretty fucking shitty result. I guess worrying about the surface first was the wrong move but honestly it was a blind 50/50 anyway. It might be worth it to just say fuck it and lock off the caverns for a while. There's no way with this few rats that we could easily set up any kind of bulwark, we still have 100-something food, I don't know I'm kinda just feeling pretty gutted over how fast things went to shit like from okay to terrible in an instant, I know I just did that "rat world forever" bit like 30 seconds ago in your time and 30 minutes ago in mine but yeah I'm not feeling it.

This fucking asshole pays me back for being nice and refusing to Cask of Amontillado his ass by flipping out and dragging our population down to 10 so far, maybe more. Even with a copper pick splitting his leg open he still crawls along trying to fight anyone who gets near. He struggles on and on until finally an herbalist Ch'tk Sinscaly who's tired of this shit walks over and strangles him to death.

Wow, I wonder why. Next fortress, workshops are DEFINITELY going to be set up for easy cask-of-amontillado'ing.

This asshole is here now. I don't know. The caverns are already sealed off, so who cares. I've never seen something break through sealed doors, but now I definitely am not going to unseal them. It kills the last few mice in a matter of seconds and then sets about lazing around right by the entrance to the cavern to make sure we never go back in there again.

Yeah come on in guys don't mind the other 10 notifications. Sure we can host some fucking elf poets and shit. Whatever. Is one of you naked? Lol, cool.

Oh yeah don't mind all the bloody fucking warm corpses starting to stink on the ground. Yeah this guy failed to Express Himself so he went around killing people. You get it. Right. Sorry we don't have time to watch you fucking dance or whatever we have to feed and water the grievously injured. But yeah stay as long as you like. Actually you know what though try not to eat too much. Just gonna say it we're not gonna have this food forever.

No Thicivi I don't think it is and you might not actually be a very adequate observer.

This shit happens downstairs which sucks. RIP our first forgotten beast I guess. Gotta watch out for those steel spears man. They're bullshit.

The bodies are just sitting on the floor because we're using the empty tombs for people whose remains we can't recover. I just had an idea, because I hate the caverns now and want all mouse people to suffer. What if we just drowned them. Right? Hear me out. It's a pretty common and kind of grim trap in the real world to drown mice by making them take bait in the middle of a bucket on a thing they fall off of into the bucket. Well what if we brought the bucket to them? And by which I mean dug a bunch more aquifer taps that led straight down into the cavern layer and just flooded it to hell? I think it could be funny. If we were always doomed to never make it here then why not do something fucked up like that.

Look at this face in the cistern. It's like an omen. I didn't make it on purpose but now it's here. Telling me "this is a place of great suffering." And you know what my reaction to that information is? Yeah I hope there's more.

So here it is. An absolute mess of exposed aquifer surface area, leading to little narrow high-pressure tunnels that terminate with one little spigot into the caverns.

And it's working. It's working fast. Yes, I used DFhack to speed it along - two injured miners were not about to hustle on it and I wanted to see it start happening already.

Maybe this was just a party that got out of hand. You know? Maybe this was just a shitty idea. Leaving the warband to settle down? Fuck that. Other people make fortresses. Ratfolk take them. This was never a fortress. This was just a big bucket to drown a bunch of stupid fucking mice in.

The ten of us left can head back to Malignreasons, wherever she's camped now, apologize for our stupid little excursion, take the flogging we're given and go back to doing what ratfolk are really supposed to do. None of our original seven have even survived, besides K'keek Vicescourge, after all - with their untimely deaths they left all the shame and humiliation for us. Rat world was pretty cool for a second there, it really was, but it's time for us to get back to our real lives. Real rat lives.

You can see there in the center, the rodent men scrambling for high ground as the water comes up to their knees. Their home ruined, some of them washed away to be drowned in their cages. Of course it's inhumane, but was the way they jammed us with spears and chopped us with axes humane? Besides, humane? News flash, we're fucking rats!!

Everyone starts filing out. Some head back toward the warband, some just head whereever their feet take them. Everyone but K'keek Vicescourge, who spends a bit more time here. Carving stone coffins that will never actually be filled. The guests just stand in the sad, empty dining hall, completely dumbfounded. And K'keek starts on one last project.

With a ghost at her back, in the worst mood of her life, but still compelled to carve it and place it. The first statue ever made at Blackfaint. And the last one. The only one.

She's ready to go now.

Rat world sucks.

Rat world forever.

[kingdoms-and-empires]

I love your game, it’s so good! I did cry real tears when grandpa made us complicit in those executions, though. I used to love him but now I kinda hate him for what he made us a part of. Like, I understand where he’s coming from and that he’s trying to teach us how to be a strong ruler like him, but I refuse his teachings. I was so excited after our success at Welkesh, I was gonna fix Silverhill’s problems and gain their loyalty and then… that. Now I kinda hope one day I can stand over Old King Remiel on his deathbed and tell him, “thank you for all of your lessons, grandfather. I will ensure they die with me.” But in the meantime I can’t wait to see our mom Fuck Him Up when she learns what he made us do!

he isnt supposed to be a perfect being. I really wanna explore the complexities of a person and their motivations. No one is just good or bad. They have failings in certain areas. Examples from the Lymarkian family from the old demo that'll reappear in the birthday arc.

Ophelia, daughter of the fallen royalty of Lymark: She deeply cares for her people, loves her children, and genuinely doesn't want make waves. She just wants to be left alone, including her people so they may recuperate from an invasion. So when Otto asked for reinforcements, she helped and looked out for her people by ensuring that her forces stayed within Lymark's borders. Though the empire may see it as a slight and disobeying orders. Imperials may see her as only looking out for her own and not caring for her neighbors.

She hasnt hurt anyone, but perspective can manipulate founded and unfounded actions that are perceived to be harmful or beneficial. Alllll depending on the person.

Prince Daerin, Lord Governor of Lymark: He had an affair with Alicia, producing the bastard Frederick currently in the care of the Mendrions. He likes to drink, have fun, is temperamental, used to be an alcoholic, and used to sleep around. (I know some of you will ask how can he sleep around, isn't that dangerous cause of the bloodline and the risk of it falling blah blah blah. Itll show up ingame later, it just haven't come up yet because you wouldn't tell a child the birds and the bees at that age yet.) Anyways, he's long since stopped much of his rowdy behavior after marrying Ophelia and is trying to be a better man than he used to be for his wife and children. He's also an effective administrator, fair to his people, and considerate during rulings. He is a good leader to have! But he struggles with his own demons as do the rest of us.

Youre not going to see acts of cartoonish villainry here, from most of my characters. Youre going to see people trying to live and do what they can. That can mean trying to do what they can to survive, or do right, or get by. That can make some characters predictable, or very unpredictable if you don't know their motivations or goals.

[limetameta]

Lode: :) I don't think I know what I want to do with my life but I think the direction I'm going in is wrong for me

Kimblee, in a trench with the man: You could've picked a better time to have a career crisis. *gunfire at them* Hm...You have to commend their will to live.

Lode, raising his rifle: *bored sigh* I should have finished medical school instead. Those professors fucked us just as hard as the military instructors.

Kimblee, watching the enemy combatants fall from Lodes fire: Why didn't you finish medical school? You only have one exam left, right?

Lode, reloading the rifle, unimpressed utterly: Which is it, then, left or right?

Kimblee: What?

Lode, playing dumb: What?

Kimblee: :/ Just make room for me to set off my alchemy.

Lode, coming back to fire: Yeah, yeah. *continues shooting* I do only have one exam left. I'm waiting for the professor to die and when he does I'll go back and ace it.

Kimblee: Is this the one you failed 8 times?

Lode: It was easier to finish the Miltary Academy and go to war than to get that professor satisfied enough to pass you.

Kimblee: Did our men pull back enough? Can I go off now?

Lode, looking through the scope: Nah, you need to wait some more. They haven't retreated yet in full.

Kimblee, impatient: Well, people get killed in action all the time.

Lode: Ha! If you want to answer for that decision, then be my guest.

Kimblee, remembering the dismay of war administration: No thank you. I'll stay put. :/

Lode: :) I love it when you listen to reason!

[princesssarcastia]

Hey! I really liked your recent hp recs) could you please make a list of your all time favorites? Especially some gen works? Thank you💘

standard disclaimer when talking about harry potter: i love our trans brothers and sisters and siblings and support them first and above all else. i also hope jkr stops making money and eventually dies an ignominious death.

all time favorite hp recs, hell yes I can do that! there will be some overlap with the recent hp rec list, but i'll try to vary it up a bit. favorite, for me, is a mix of "god this is SO WELL WRITTEN what the fuck" and "i have reread this so many times I could probably quote it back to you." I will try to keep this mostly gen, which should be easy, because that tends to be my preference in this fandom (though it's by no means an exclusive preference).

in no particular order:

The Changeling, by Annerb on ao3. Summary: Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why. Word count: 182,687. | This story is wonderful; at its core I like it because it does more to treat ginny like a real person, distinct from her brothers and her love interests, than book or movie canon ever did. Annerb also does an incredible job of exploring how Slytherin House may not be a monolith, and how cunning and ambition aren't sins, without totally changing how utterly awful most of the named canon slytherin characters are. Some of it does involve ginny/harry but that's not the core of the story.

The Sum of Their Parts, by holdmybeer on ao3. Summary: For Teddy Lupin, Harry Potter would become a Dark Lord. For Teddy Lupin, Harry Potter would take down the Ministry or die trying. He should have known that Hermione and Ron wouldn't let him do it alone. Word count: 138,205. | Probably one of the most realistic takes about how wizarding society would progress after the second war (read: not at all). I also find it delightful that the golden trio and all their very traumatized friends, family members, and schoolmates, get to go apeshit. And be a little evil, as a treat. The Wizarding World reaps what it doth sowed and very much gets its just desserts, in my opinion. But the author does also include outside perspectives to make it clear how fucked up it becomes in the end. Completely gen.

these little powerless bones, by dirgewithoutmusic on ao3. Summary: littlebastardreviews posted the collected facts from the 2014 UK Editions of Harry Potter: and this fact caught my eye. 'Only one non-magical person has ever managed to get as far as the Hogwarts Sorting Hat before being exposed as a Squib.' But, gosh it just makes me want a story where a squib did make it through. So here's a drabble about a squib with a quick mind and a hand-me-down wand, who refuses to be denied her birthright. -- when the hat drops over her eyes it asks, 'well what do we have here?' she’s got a forged hogwarts letter with penmanship that’s perfect down to the ink splatter; she’s got a complicated string of owls, only half of them forged, from parents to administration to ministry that’s so complicated her name ended up on the first year roll call anyway. she’s got ten arguments, four pleas, and one smothered threat on the tip of her mental tongue for why the house that comes out of this hat’s brim better not be 'squib' she’s got a lighter up her sleeve and an eight and a half inch wand in her belt that will never, ever work for her. 'well,' says the hat, 'better be slytherin then.' Word count: 841. | Obviously I couldn't make this list without mentioning dirgewithoutmusic, and this is one of my favorite of their fics. Fuck the system, power is what you make of it. Completely gen.

face death in the hope, by lullabyknell on ao3. Summary: Harry looks vaguely nervous, scratching the back of his neck. “It's a really long story,” he says finally, almost apologetically, “and it's really hard to believe.” “Try me,” Regulus says, more than a little daringly. Word count: 268,148. | lullabyknell is another iconic hp writer I can't make this list without mentioning at least once. i am a SUCKER for time travel, and this is an excellent time travel fic. what I also enjoy about this is that it makes the most bones over harry's sacrificial death in canon, more than I've ever seen elsewhere. that was some messed up shit, and hoooo boy is harry having a hard time processing that. It's making its way toward Harry/Regulus, I think, but none of that is in the text of the story yet, so go forth and enjoy, anon.

mirror sword and shield, by irnan on ao3. Summary: It's always so easy to forget about magic when Lily comes home. (At least, it's easy to pretend she does.) Word count: 2,590. | irnan is one of my favorite writers i've ever come across, for any fandom, and they have quite a lot of hp content. but I picked this piece in particular because i am forever standing on a soapbox screaming that lily evans was a real person with a real personality, real thoughts and hopes and dreams and hates, and there's a special place in my heart for things that delve into her character. This is the moment that she commits to her path, makes a genuine choice to save the wizarding world, and it's quiet and she doesn't realize the magnitude of it, but that makes it all the better. james IS here and they are together, but frankly he serves more as a contrast to petunia than anything else, so I don't think of this one as very shippy.

rather start a family than finish one, by elumish on ao3. Summary: He knows, knows deep in his soul, that if Potter ever wanted to take over Britain, he could do it, and most of them would probably just cheer along. Word count: 1,834. | From the perspective of Charlie Weasly, in the immediate aftermath of the battle of hogwarts, and the somewhat more distant aftermath. It includes some great outsider POV of harry, and some great interactions between charlie and percy. I come back to it a lot because it's frankly very well written, as all of elumish's work is. Completely gen.

proof, an orphaned story on ao3. Summary: "Proofing, also sometimes called final fermentation, is the specific term for allowing dough to rise after it has been shaped and before it is baked." Less than a year has passed since the final battle, and the Ministry is already up to its old tricks. Harry would very much like them to stop ignoring due process, tossing people in Azkaban, controlling the press, and menacing the populace with dementors. He would also like, if at all possible, to bake a passable loaf of bread. Word count: 28,664. | Consider this the much nicer version of "The Sum of Their Parts," to an extent. It considers how their experiences would have bound together the second war generation at hogwarts, how utterly terrible wizarding society really is, human rights, politics, and the soft takeover harry launches to try and fix it. absolutely marvelous, with some great bread recopies to go along with. Completely gen.

Bindings, Bindings, by Quietlemonhush on ao3. Summary: Death is stasis, and no one returns from it. But the Potters are not really exceptional at obeying rules. — Months after their death, Lily and James drag themselves through the Veil with a guest. They have some things to do. Word count: 64,647 | This was on my recent HP fic rec list, but it also completely deserves to reside on my favorites of all time list. I'm so full of joy over this fic. Lily is so well done, and the relationship dynamics between james and sirius, and sirius/remus, and sirius and regulus, and lily and remus, etc., are beautiful. you can feel the deep and abiding love they all have for one another, and for harry, and it is the beating heart of this whole fic. they love one another so much that they came back from the dead. they are loving and powerful and righteous and furious and they remake the world because of it. There are some serious shippy elements to this, most prominently remus/sirius, but it is not a ship fic, if that makes sense. this is very much an ensemble piece. the smut is pretty easy to skip if it's not your thing.

(tumblr threw a fit about some new fucking character-limit-per-text-block bullshit, so here, have a new text block)

The Green Girl, by colubrina on ao3. Summary: Hermione is sorted into Slytherin; how will things play out differently when the brains of the Golden Trio has different friends? AU. Word count: 140,901. | I read this for the first time on ff.net nearly a decade ago, and it's still VERY entertaining. Once you understand what's really happening it makes the whole thing ten times better; and like many of my favorite hp fics, it takes the trauma of it all more seriously. It's much nicer to canon slytherins than other recs on this list, however, so read at your own peril. Hermione/Draco is a major part of the plot, here, so it is technically a shipfic, but it's pretty tame and adolescent except for some racy jokes and references to offscreen sex, if i'm remembering correctly. And like most things I enjoy, the relationship is subordinate to the plot.

all waiting is long | hir yw pob ymaros by shuofthewind on ao3. Summary: Witches and wizards are taught from their infancy to never meddle with time. And Hermione doesn't mean to. After her brush with the Time Turner her third year, she has no desire to change the past or to alter the future. But staying in Grimmauld Place leads her to discover new—and dangerously grey—magic. When Sirius Black falls through the Veil, Hermione disappears from her own world, pulled by ancient protective spells on the Black family that she picked up completely by accident. Now trapped in the year 1975, with no feasible way of getting home again and the world already forever altered by more things than her mere presence, Hermione must find her own way of coping—and a way to survive a war which already promises to be much darker, much longer, and much, much more dangerous than the one she left behind. Word count: 198,756. | Another fic from the recent reads rec list, but I'm obsessed with it so it's coming along for a ride here, too. It takes the war and violence of an extremist bigoted movement VERY seriously, and can be quite graphic about it; it also takes the casual misogyny of the 1970s much more seriously than pretty much any other fic i've read in hp; but it also takes the characters themselves more seriously, which I deeply enjoy. It's also sort of a time travel fic, one of my favorite things. Hermione is so genuinely impressive here, but it doesn't come without serious costs to her, which makes the whole story so much more convincing than 99% of the other fanfiction you'll ever read. This fic gets into the meat of it, you know? It's convincing. It's tagged Hermione/Remus, but they haven't gotten even close to a relationship yet, so up to chapter 17 I'd say you're safe and it's gen.

and that's that for my gen, or gen enough for government work, favorite hp fics of all time! anon, I hope they bring you joy, if you stuck around for months to see my eventual answer to this ask.

here's a link to my 2021 harry potter fanfic primer, which anon references in their ask.

[sunny-satellites]

This going to be a huge frustration post but I'm genuinely beyond a point where I can tolerate my job. All they'd have to do to easily attract new workers is boost our salary by a whole ass 30%. We make like nothing. Nobody has been hired externally for my shift in two years! And it's just me and a single other person who sucks so bad both as a person and at his job, a guy who won't stop eyefucking me from across the building to make sure I adhere to his definition of "Hard work."

Not only that but there's this act of corporate violence that's been thrust upon me because department policy and workplace policy are allowed to be inconsistent so now in order to take two sick days, I need a doctor's note which is unusual from our department policy. It's because my boss only cares about his own ass and how easy his end of the job is, but couldn't stop being a hypocrite long enough to keep more than a single worker who really isn't here by choice. To top it off I'm under scrutiny every time I take a single sick day because we're so short staffed, I'm viewed as hurting the "team" whenever I actually need to use the time I have.

So I'm here today, feeling the burnout and depression and anxiety and exhaustion like never before, wondering genuinely if there's something else wrong with my body I need to begin to medically investigate. I don't think even in a job like this it's normal to feel this tired? But I'm fucking exhausted from 2 years of staffing issues, a shitty boss, and worse upper management.

Like I went through covid on the front line and eventually just had to start accepting that either I was going to get it and live or die. I lucked out due to being a little freak when it came to sanitization and managed to not get it while everyone around me got it at least once. My workplace pretended it didn't exist after Abbott's installed stooges revoked protocol because the oil barons were hurting, but we still kept utilities shut off and self-cleaning oxidant covers on elevator buttons and doors. Basically pretending the problem didn't exist meanwhile fighting it. My burnout started to get really bad around june of this time.

Apparently our leadership is using a lawsuit (whose punitive damages just wrapped up) to waive any notion of a cost of living adjustment this year. During a year in which we're projected to make record profits and record throughput. The company I work for is worth 5.5 billion in annual income, granted it's a state job. But they do vastly intend for this fucking place to be profitable and its insulting when if you talk to anyone who works as a liason between low-level and the administration, you'll probably hear they're frustrated with how the Admin sector OKd a 30,000 cost of living adjustment across the board for everyone at that stage and up. It's all just lies that crumble as soon as you turn on the microscope.

I need to find a new job fast because I'm just.. so tired I can't function every time my work week starts any longer. Your girl is in fact going the fuck through it and I don't want to any longer. I want to be able to put most of my energy toward my loved ones and not.. feeling like I'm using everything just to survive the start of my work week.

[arachne18]

A group of demon worshipping cultists mistakenly summoned an eldritch god instead of a demon.

⠂⠂⠂

It wasn’t my fault. Darren told me to do it and I know what you’re gonna say. “You’re eighteen years old, Chris. You should know not to do something just because someone tells you.” Okay well for your information, he made a really good case and it was supposed to be a little one. Why summon a demon at all. Well this is where i have to come clean, Mrs. Mason. I didn’t actually study for the essay like you told me to. I know! I know. If I don’t pass this essay I’d fail, but I’m supposed to be going to college next year and I really didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Not that any of that matters, now. I’m really sorry. I wish I could fix this. 

⠂⠂⠂

Assigning an essay is a lot of extra work for the teacher involved. For one essay I have to read it more than once, give comments on the writing itself, correct it where needed, grade it according to my rubric and then put it in the gradebook. Add one or two existential crises about my teaching ability and the system as a whole, then multiply it by about 120- oh 144, sorry fourth period- and it actually takes a lot of time. Plus, I still have to make lesson plans, make copies, and help seniors with college admission essays. I never have time for hobbies anymore, but that's what summers are for, right? 

That night was later than usual. I decide to be extra crazy and tick everything off my checklist. Help seniors, check. Make Copies, check. Lesson plan, check. I was starting on the essays, thinking about calling it a night since it was in fact night. I was staring at the turn-it-in bin, eyes glazing over, when the whole building shook. The school was a square box built in the fifties with brick walls you couldn’t stick posters to. It was used to shelter during tornadoes and fires, so the fact that something had made it tremble was not a good sign. My first thought was “bomb”. We’d gotten more than one threat over the years, but I’d heard no sound. So, earthquake? But we don’t get earthquakes. It’s Missouri. I ran out of my classroom and down the stairs, grateful that our district didn’t require us to dress up for work. The farther I went down the mustard yellow hallway the more intensely the building shook. Every other classroom was dark and empty, which I was grateful for. 

As I got to the old lobby of the building where the main office and administration lived something that seemed to come from below me screamed in my ears. Reflexively , I covered my years and pushed outside, doubling over at the intensity of the sound. It was so angry, like my sister when you wake her up. I pushed myself up on my knees and then my feet. I needed to get away from the sound. I focused on the balls of my feet, pushing myself deep into the school parking lot. The sound faded with distance, but seemed to die all together. I turned back to the school and nearly fell to my knees with horror. The sky was a vortex of glowing green and purple clouds. Wind swept past me, nearly knocking me over, and seemed to follow the vortex of clouds. If I looked very closely, I could see something moving in the center of the vortex. I could catch only glimpses of it and every time I did my body tingled with fear. It was an abomination. To see it was to go a little crazy every time you did. I averted my eyes. I was crazy enough.

 I fixed my eyes on the building just in time to see five students dart through the entrance. I knew they were students because I knew them on sight. Dressed in black, they always stood out even among the emo and goth kids. Most students gave the original four a wide berth and now they were doing the same with Ethan. Rage hit me like a truck. Normally, I'm very good about controlling my emotions with students. I don’t yell often and I’ve never screamed at a student, but I was off the clock. 

“What the fuck did you do?” 

They spun a new fear forming in their eyes. “Ms. Mason!” Ethan cried. “I… I can explain.” The original four Derrick, Josh, Tony, and George, who now go by Death, Poison, Snake and Georgie, took a giant step away from Ethan, collectively sacrificing him to me. He did offer. 

“Explain this!” I pointed at the eldridge abomination above us. My hands were gesturing frantically. I think I was trying to keep myself from strangling him. “Are you kidding? No, actually. Go ahead. I’d looove to hear this.” I crossed my arms and waited. There was a heart beat of silence, as if he didn’t believe that I was actually going to let him explain. 

“I know it looks bad.” I must have made a god-awful face because he tried to course correct. “But it wasn’t my fault. Derrick told me to do it.” 

“That is not my name!” Derrick with the black hood and the cheap eyebrow piercing stepped toward us. 

“Shut up, Derrick!” I snapped. He flinched back into his group of friends. I turned back to Ethan. “Are you kidding? That’s first grade logic. What grade are you in?”

He looked down at his shoes. He never looked so young. “I’m a senior-”

“Are you? Because I don’t see any other seniors summoning a god do you?”

He looked at me confused. “It was supposed to be just a little demon.” 

“‘I only hit him once.’ This is where we’re at, Ethan!” My head throbbed with sleep and dehydration and the ringing of my own shouts in my head. I rubbed my face. “Where is it?” 

“Where’s what?”

“The thing you used to summon, the thing that’s trying to kill us.” I wasn’t even yelling anymore. I sounded disappointed, even to me.

Ethan looked confused. “What are you gonna-? How-”

“Ethan,” it was the most calm I had been since it started. “Do you want everyone you know and love to die?”

He looked bewildered, then shook his head.

“Then answer the question.” His eyes wilden, then he looked to the four. They reflected his nervous expression then looked at the school. Something seemed to die in Ethan as he turned back to me. “Its.. in the basement. I’m sorry.”

I inhaled deeply counting, then exhaled. “Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Go as far as you can away from her. Go home actually. Get some sleep. You boys have school tomorrow. Everything will be fine.” 

Ethan looked shocked. “But-”

“Get out of here before I write you up.” I brushed past them and headed back into the school building. 

We all did crazy things in college. Some teachers have embarrassing pictures of them on the internet doing a keg stand or have stories about “accidentally” setting the Greek house on fire, but my college life was a little different. I have a degree in Secondary Education, but my minor is in folklore. I thought that maybe one day I’d be a professor, but once you start digging into certain things you can’t stop. At some point it just becomes an all consuming need for knowledge and ability. Call it the ultimate hyperfixation.

Even as chaos raged outside, the school remained a fortress against the wind. It was oddly comforting. The basement was deep in the heart of the school. I had to get down several dubious looking flights of stairs before I came to the door. I could tell it was the place not by any sign, the place was pitch dark, but by the signature purple and green glow emanating from the cracks in the door. I opened the door with less caution than I should have. Walking through like I need to get some extra paper towels instead of banish an eldritch god. The room was small. The hot water heater sat in one corner, unmoving, but everything else was flying around in the vortex. Toilet paper, cleaning supplies, mops, brooms, in addition to the candles, spray paint, and book the boys used to summon the god all bathed in neon green and a glowing purple. The vortex flowed out of the hole they’d created with the spray paint. They are so cleaning that up. The wind was not nearly as strong here. I snapped the book out of the air and flipped through the pages trying to find the right one. 

“Ah, Ms. Mason,” a voice whispered from the hole. “It’s good to see you again. Adulthood suits you so well.” I ignored it. “Remember the good old days, when you and I would… collaborate.” He waited for a response. I gave none. “Oh, if only we could relive those good old days. It would make me so-”

“Ah-ha! Here it is.” I cleared my throat and recited the spell that meant to send him back down into his hole. 

The god growled angrily and screamed again. I covered my ears. I’m gonna need a hearing aid after all this. The hole closed slowly, its neon glow fading with it until I was left alone in the darkness. My body collapsed under the weight of my own exhaustion. I wanted nothing more than my bed and endless amounts of sleep. I forced myself to stand and march up the long expanse of stairs. It felt like an eternity, but I finally made it to the parking lot. I didn’t even bother collecting my stuff from my class. It would be there tomorrow. 

I approached my car ready to collapse in my seat. Maybe I could call in tomorrow. No, if I told the boys to go to school I should. Be a good example and all. I pulled open the door when I heard a voice. “Ms. Mason?” I whirled around. There’s no way I’m getting killed by some random punk now. Ethan flinched and raised his hands in surrender. 

“Ethan, what are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t leave. It felt wrong.” 

“Oh… where are your friends?”

“They aren’t my friends.” He sounded angry.

“Oh, well. You’re better off. In any case, it’s fine now. You should go home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he turned to leave, looking dejected. Curiosity got the better of me. 

“Ethan,” he turned. “Honest time. What were you thinking?”

He flushed embarrassed. “I thought if I summoned a small demon. It could help me pass. I’m failing out of your class.”

“Why didn’t you come to me? I tutor kids all the time-”

“I don’t know! I was embarrassed. I’ve never needed help before and I just… I’m sorry.” 

I sighed. “Come to my class early in the morning. We’ll do our best to fix it.”

“Wait really! I kinda thought you were gonna skin me.”

“You fail senior year and I still might, but I’ll help you. It’s what I’m here for. Do you need a ride home?” 

He beamed with excitement. “I live next door. I promise I won't let you down. Thank you!” He ran off disappearing into the night. I can sleep on the weekend. The kids need me right now. I got in my car and drove home.

[the-remarkable-mrs-smith]

10/22 4:45 am

The incident at work where I said something with the same energy as the child who said it to me is…

… kicking my ass

They didn’t tell me she was ED.

They didn’t tell me she was suicidal.

They accused me of not having a relationship with my students that I have relationships with.

I can sleep.

I’m suffering.

My sister said I care too much about work, but how could I not.

It’s what I do.

It’s how I make my living and now I’m afraid that any mistake I make will get me fired.

I want to die. How can I live if I’m being punished for being a human being?

I want to die.

I want to die.

I want to die.

I took another anxiety pill. I’m doubled up on what I was taking.

Fantasies of me blowing my brains out in the school parking lot flow through my head.

I won’t. I don’t own a gun and at the end of the day not that motivated to purchase one. And then there is my daughters. I would ruin their lives.

As if I haven’t. I am their mother after all. Don’t we all ruin our children’s lives one way or another?

Fuck. I’m screwed up. It’s early morning. It’s quiet. I’m alone. No one to comfort me.

If you ask my other students, they love me. Even students who don’t have me, love me.

It doesn’t matter. The administration has taken the student’s side. Doesn’t matter that I’ve done so much to encourage her. Positively pushed her to finish her work. Paid extra special attention to her.

I unwittedly trigger her PTSD. I’m the evil one.

I’m getting punished because her dad beat her and her sister when they were babies.

I’m spiraling emotionally. I love my job. It’s usually the thing that makes me happy… and it may be all taken away because …

The pain and fear in my chest is real.

I’m all alone.

I wish I could have someone comfort me tell me if will be alright. I don’t want to work at another school.

It’s taking all my energy to not completely fall apart and self destruct.

Edit: finally fell back to sleep and I feel better. Depression and anxiety is a little slice of hell.

[weswam-archive]

.

[danielxricciardo]

Winner

Summary: You met Pierre at the Brazilian Grand Prix and for 3 months you couldn't get in touch.

Warnings: fluff, like 2 swear words

Word count: 2.3k

This one was requested by @jugasly and I know it is not exactly what she wanted but I really tried and I hope you liked it!

Avenida Paulista's Boulevard catches the eye especially through the skyscrapers similar to those in the big North American cities. Brazil's most modern city has much to offer tourists around the world. The most beautiful museums in South America can be found here, the shore is furrowed with lots of sunny beaches. And its nightlife has attracted many tourists.

The largest city in South America makes New York look small. The buses make an unbearable noise and black smoke spreads over the upper floors of the skyscrapers which, through the heat that maintains it during the day, turn the city into a real hell.

I felt myself waking up but I was determined to keep my eyes closed for a little longer but in a few seconds I was awakened violently by the sound of car engines. That's what I deserve for booking the hotel next to the Formula 1 circuit.

You reluctantly got out of bed and went to the window. I saw how the Formula 1 cars are brought on the circuit and I look at my watch. Fuck, it was pre-qualification practice, did I really sleep that much? Honestly, I arrived in the room at 5 o'clock and at 6 I fell asleep so I shouldn't have been so surprised that I slept in.

I was in Brazil with my two best friends to watch a Formula 1 race live and we chose Brazil because we needed a good reason to leave Europe and visit South America for a week, right?

I woke up my friends and in less than half an hour we were leaving the hotel, running, with a big cup of coffee in our hand.

We passed quickly through the front gate, all we needed now was to find our seats.

All around us could be heard the cars speeding on the circuit. My skin was goosebumps and I was looking at my friends who had the same smile on their faces that I think I had.

We find our seats and watch the last 15 minutes of training. We held in our hands the tickets that gave us access to the paddock. We were going to go there after the drivers returned to the garages.

My eyes were searching for Aston Martin Hospitality. I knew that if I returned home from this Grand Prix without an autograph from Sebastian Vettel for my father, I could very well stay in Brazil for the rest of my life.

Being so focused on looking for the green building, I didn't realize that someone was coming in front of me only when I hit a hard chest. I heard my girlfriends gasping. Fuck, I just hope I didn't run into Toto Wolff.

I open my eyes slightly and see a driver's suit, white and blue. Alpha Tauri?

I look up at the driver's face. To be damned. Pierre Gasly. With ruffled hair and a red face, Pierre Gasly was in front of me.

"I'm really, really sorry, I didn't look where I was going. Sorry!" I say and take a step back, stepping out of his personal space.

As I walked away from him, I saw that he was not alone but with Pyry.

"It's okay, I wasn't looking where I was going either," he says, running his hand through his hair, trying to fix it.

I smile at them and then I look at my friends giggling at our embarrassing date.

Pyry motions to Pierre to someone behind me and that makes him take his eyes off me.

"Oh, I have to go," he tells me. "Have fun."

I stood still for a few moments, unable to move. I just met my favorite driver and it couldn't be more embarrassed than that.

"The first meeting with your children's future father was very good." my best friend, Lila, tells me.

"Shut up."

The fact that I found Aston Martin Hospitality and managed to get the autograph for my father and I could take a few pictures with Sebastian Vettel erased the embarrassment caused by the disastrous meeting I had with Pierre Gasly.

For a little time.

As soon as we got out of Aston Martin Hospitality Lila pulled us to McLaren Hospitality, hoping to meet Lando Norris and take some pictures with him, about 100, but who's counting, right?

I was with my head on the phone, sending my father some pictures I took with Sebastian Vettel when I came across someone, this time I lost my balance and I was about to fall but two strong arms caught me. Pierre Gasly, again.

"Honestly, we should stop meeting like this, you could get hurt," he says and laughs. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," I say and bite my lip. "I should really start looking where I'm going."

My friends secretly took pictures of us.

"It's the second time we've met in less than 10 minutes, maybe the universe wants to tell us something, don't you think?" he says and holds out his hand. "Pierre."

I hold out my hand and smile wide. "Y/N."

I turn my gaze to Lila and Erica, presenting them to Pierre as well.

"I hope you feel good in the paddock. So far, the world has been nice to you and your friends?"

"Yes, everything has been good so far. We've only been to Aston Martin and they've all been very nice to us. Except for a few people who don't look where they're going, we haven't had any unexpected events." I say and laugh.

Pierre starts laughing too.

"Yes, I will try to look after you from now on and avoid you. I don't want to be the reason you fall. Although, if something happens, I know the medical team and you don't need medical insurance here."

I asked Pierre if he wanted to take some pictures with me and he accepted immediately. At least that's what I can do after I've run into you twice already.

For the next few hours, Lila and Erica, and I walked from one Hospitality to another, looking for drivers. They were all very nice to us and agreed to pose with us.

When it was time to start qualifying, we went to the room provided by McLaren for guests to watch.

I followed Pierre's position in the standings, Lila followed Lando's position and Erica followed Max's position. All three of us breathed a sigh of relief when the three boys passed into Q3.

Lando will leave from the seventh position tomorrow.

Pierre will start from the fourth position.

Max will start from pole position.

The three of us went to the hotel, ready to rest well for the next day.

If the atmosphere for qualifying had seemed charged to me, then the atmosphere before the race could not be described.

Yesterday everyone was behaving nicely and they were smiling. Now everyone was running past everyone, there were many screams and many curses could be heard. And everyone was frowning, not a smile in sight.

We didn't see any drivers, so we headed to McLaren Hospitality to get comfortable for the race. I unwittingly was disappointed. I wanted to see Pierre before the race to wish him good luck.

Although I hadn't wished him good luck, Pierre was lucky. He finished the race in second place, behind Max Verstappen. I was very happy and I wanted to go and congratulate him as soon as possible.

I watched the award from the window, filming and taking pictures which I was sure I would cherish for a long time to come.

"Congratulations!" I scream when I see him and he looks at me. "It was a very good race, congratulations!"

"Thank you!" he says and smiles at me.

I asked my friends to take some pictures with the trophy and champagne and then Pierre left, being shouted by someone from the team.

"Stay here, I'd like to see you one more time before you have to leave."

I could die then and there when I heard his words. Pierre Gasly wanted to see me again.

It's just that it hasn't happened before. We stayed there for another two hours and Pierre could not be found. It was getting late and everyone was starting to leave, so we left.

Monza is the most important economic, industrial and administrative center of the Brianza sub-region, being the third-largest city in Lombardy, with a population of about 120,000 inhabitants. When people think of Monza, the first thing that comes to mind is the famous Formula 1 Grand Prix that is held here every year.

Although many may think that Milan eclipses this smaller city, Monza should not be dismissed, having an absolutely sublime historical architecture, such as the Cathedral and the Leoni Bridge, but also features the huge Parco di Monza and of course the famous Formula 1 Autodromo.

The historic center of Monza stretches over a large area and in this area, you can find most historical sites and a guided tour of the history of cities.

Three months have passed since the Brazilian Grand Prix.

Three months since I first saw Pierre Gasly.

Although I have pictures of the two of us, I can't help but regret the fact that I didn't see him then; I will probably never see him again.

The exams passed and to relax completely my father and I got tickets to the Italian Grand Prix.

What I didn't know was that my father had taken VIP tickets.

That means we're going to the paddock.

Does that mean I can meet Pierre?

I tried not to have too many hopes, in the end, there are thousands of people there, I can't meet him, can I?

I didn't meet him on Friday. It had been the two practice sessions, everyone was as relaxed as possible, my father took pictures with everyone he saw, but Pierre was nowhere to be seen.

On Saturday we were late and did not catch the practice, but we saw the qualifications. Pierre starts from the tenth position. To be honest, I didn't have high expectations for tomorrow's race for Pierre.

And man I was wrong about that.

The whole race I was speechless. I heard my father from lap 23 and to the end cursing the accident that took Charles Leclerc out of the race.

My eyes were only on car number 10. I had the impression that I was blinking only when the camera moved to another car. I forgot to breathe when I saw the overtaking he was doing.

But he won.

Pierre Gasly won in Monza. His first ever Formula One career win and it was my home race.

Before we went out in the paddock looking for Pierre, after the premiere, I wiped away the tears I didn't know I had.

It wasn't hard for me to find him. Where there were a lot of people screaming and chanting, he must have been there too.

And I was right. He is enjoying his first victory with the whole team. Everyone wanted to hug and congratulate him.

As if he noticed my presence among the hundreds of people who were there, Pierre looked at me. I noticed his face light up and he came towards me.

"Y/N!" he says and hugs me.

I'm sure my father was shocked somewhere in the back. I hadn't told him that I had met Pierre, but after this hug, I will definitely have to explain to him what the situation is.

"Congratulations!" I tell him and I smile broadly. "First victory! Wow!"

He shrugs nonchalantly.

"I was lucky."

I laugh and hit him playfully in the shoulder.

"With Hamilton being penalized? You would have overtaken him without that penalty."

He looked into my eyes.

"I haven't found you after the race in Brazil."

The fact that he remembered had taken me by surprise. I was sure he couldn't remember the fact that he had proposed to me to stay on the circuit so that he could see me one more time.

I was sure that the second he left, he forgot what I looked like and forgot my name.

But no. He still knew me. He still knew my name and knew we had to see each other.

"I haven't seen you there before and I left after about two hours, it was getting late."

"I'm sorry, the teamwork had taken longer than I initially anticipated. When I went to look for you, no one was there. Then I realized I didn't even have your phone number. I tried to look for you on Instagram, but do you know how many girls are there with your name?"

I laughed.

"Well, I could give my phone number to the race winner now, if he wants it, of course. Do you think he would accept it?" you ask laughing.

Pierre blushes and bites his lip.

"I'm sure he would accept."

I take out of my bag the notebook and pen I was carrying with me to receive the drivers' autographs and write my phone number. I hand him the sheet just as Pierre is being taken by some engineers to the garage to celebrate the victory.

I laugh and wave at him.

I was at home with my father, watching a boring movie on Netflix. I've been looking at the phone constantly since last night, waiting for a message from Pierre but I haven't received anything.

"Ugh, this movie is so boring," I say and take my phone off the table. "Let me look for a more interesting one."

That's when I receive a message from a number I didn't save. I received a picture.

It was the picture with the prize Pierre received.

"The winner of the race has received your number and is wondering if you are free to dine with him."

I bit my lip, unable to control the smile on my face.

"If the winner of the race wants to go out on a date with me, who am I to say no?"

"8 o'clock?"

"I'll send you the address right away."

[gothicprep]

watched a recent video essay from a youtuber i like that covers the west elm caleb fiasco, and i would like to share a quote from it: "abusers know how to utilize and weaponize the language of the abused very, very easily"

i gotta say – this is an incredibly cathartic thing to hear. sad truth is that people who are either willfully manipulative or very, very dishonest with themselves about the weight of their actions looooove the language of abuse and psychiatry. can i interest you in a story about My Ex From Hell? should i give my fans some delicious public drama?

but i'm going to have to set the context first. give ya a little mise en scene

i very briefly dated this person who was this triple threat new-agey guy, strong believer in progressive politics, and forever victim. to the point of genuine unhinged behavior. i talked to him after my close friend (vic) died by suicide and he told me "you're not the only person in the universe who's going through something right now". why did he say this? because apparently his friend drove their girlfriend to a clinic to have an abortion, which, you know, is super fucking relevant to him. and some other friends were chirping at him about how it was So Terrible that people were putting vic on a "death pedestal" and it invalidated that he would never get aCcOuNtAbIlItY for some drama they had with him during, i shit you not, the fucking bush administration. also he works more than me. also his mom is sick. also he has a nebulous unnamed chronic illness. also he's had more friends die than me so i need to reel it in. anyway, when people act like this, it kind of creates a situation where you feel extremely disincentivized to communicate with them. i tried to be honest and say, bluntly, that it was the worst relationship i'd ever been in. and he kept railroading me into talking it out even though i think that's... making it really obvious that it's futile.

i concluded i was done with him when he threatened to leave me in a city 5-ish hours from home because i told him he was being irrational for threatening to "beat (someone) up" for watching his instagram story. on his public account. his justification for this being "i was stalked years ago and...". he also repeatedly punched his car door after the push to start malfunctioned for a while and i thought. right. something is seriously wrong with this guy and i'm not inclined to stick around and find out what it is.

and you can't communicate with someone like this. so i didn't. i just muted his contact and stopped answering his messages and calls. i feel like you kind of exhaust someone's good graces when you threaten to dump their ass somewhere where they can't get home. i know it's very inconsiderate & me selfishly not wanting to deal with it, but i reasoned the only way to end things was to make him furious with me to the point where it was *his* decision

i removed him from my close friends story on instagram and wrote a brief vent post about what he'd did and that i just wanted to push a button and make it all go away. a mutual friend of ours confronted him for being a flagrant jackass based on information from the post.

so his response is to send me a combination toddler temper tantrum / cartoon supervillain speech (a little bit of a caillou/thanos crossover episode, if you will) that was ridiculously manipulative. some excerpts:

"you ghosted and went behind my back while leaving my family and i paralyzed with worry" - not picking up my phone for 18 hours is shitty, but ghosting it is not. removing someone from your private instagram story isn't ghosting either. i never said anything to his parents, he called them and balked to them. it's a way of escalating the impact of the situation when he was the one who involved them here.

"you don't know how to communicate" - just him insulting me. he's coming at me simultaneously on the attack and trying to ~talk about it~ with me, so i'd wager he doesn't either, if this is really the case.

"you just don't care. you're just like 'yup'." - never said that. all the evidence he had is that i don't feel super inclined to make a real effort at communication with someone who is yelling at me and clearly too pissed to hear me out.

"i'm cutting into my sleeping before work to deal with this, so it's actively proving a detriment to my workday, weekday, and wellbeing" - not relevant. i had shit to do the next day too. i wasn't exactly happy about the situation either. i express this. he says "because it is (a detriment), and anyone with basic concern for others should care that they've wounded someone to the point of losing sleep before the start of the workday." – jesus fucking christ.

so i've laid enough groundwork to say this guy is behaving in incredibly bad faith. so here's the last bit:

"i spoke to you many, many times about the kind of trauma i faced in 2019 related to the way you acted. you ignored it and did the exact same things. i hope you're happy. i hope you got what you wanted [deadname]."

like, look, i kinda reason that he has a reoccurring issue here with intimidating the people he dates into not wanting to speak with him, because the combination of dismissiveness, passive threats/hitting stuff when you're alone together, and dishonest, self-centered freak shit make it impossible to talk to someone.

but notice how terms like ghosting, communication, trauma, and the hand gesturing at empathy are employed in these quotes.

i'm really lucky that i got out of that text conversation and relationship in a way that looked self-evidently embarrassing to him, because i got the sense he was fishing for screenshots, and using very loaded language as an attempt to make himself look better.

i bring this all up to say: some people are seriously not well. they're either malicious or deluded, the difference doesn't really matter, but they know how persuasive the language of abuse and psychiatry is. either to guilt you, or create a narrative to isolate you because of how you lack empathy or what the goddamn fuck ever. people like this are dangerous. and i do think it is within our best interest to at least consider how norms in progressive spaces can be abused

[0dirty-deals0]

Can I request hc of the boys' reaction to mc doing the walking in naked tik tok challenge? I'd love it if you add a little bit nsfw to it. Thanks in advance if you decide to write it!! Hope you're doing well!

Brothers react to MC doing the Walk in Naked Challenge:

Warnings: N/S/F/W-ISH CONTENT AHEAD! READER IS GENDER NEUTRAL

Lucifer:

You can hear the record in his hand drop to the floor with a soft metallic thud as he watches you remove your robe in front of him.

You can't help but let out a soft giggle when you see his usual pokerface turn to a flustered look for just a split second. That look is soon replaced with a much darker expression and the smirk he gives you soon make you feel weak in the knees.

"Well, Mc, I knew you were bold but this is a surprise."

You feel your words get stuck at the back of your throat and you feel a chill run down your spine when you hear him chuckle. He approaches you swiftly and covers your D.D.D. camera with his hand before giving you a featherlight teasing kiss that leaves you leaning in for something more.

"Starlight, while I don't mind an audience, I suggest you shut off your D.D.D. quick before I continue."

You do as your told and the moment your phone is placed down somewhere you'll soon forget, you're pulled close to him and pinned down onto his bed. You can't help but let out a small whimper when you feel his breathe so close to your ear.

"Where's that boldness of yours now? It's so adorable how you think you can catch me so offguard like that."

Mammon:

He's speechless the moment he sees you disrobe, you were almost certain you broke him because of how unusually quiet he became.

"Babe, you doing okay?"

You let out a small laugh when all he can do is give a quick and eager nod. You decide to help him out by walking over to him. He's quick to wraps his arms around your waist and rest his head on your bare stomach, letting out a blissful sigh at the feeling of your warm skin against his.

"Speechless?"

"Fuck, treasure. Give a demon a warning, will you? Almost gave me a heart attack."

"Can demons actually get heart attacks?"

"Fuck if I know."

You shudder when you feel him start to kiss lower and lower until he reaches your v-line. Before you're able to shut off your D.D.D. he's quick to stop you.

"No, keep on going."

"B-But, Mammon."

"No use getting flustered now, Mc. You started this, now I want you to record just how greedy I am for you."

Leviathan:

You had to stop yourself from doubling over from laughter the moment he let out a rather loud yelp. His game was left forgotten while he stared at you, still in disbelief that you were currently naked in front of him.

"I- Mc, you're naked," he says with a slight tremble in his voice, his face growing redder with each passing second.

"Mhmm."

"A-and you're recording."

You don't answer his last question and instead choose to walk over to him, kneeling down and resting your cheek on one of his thighs. You give him playful smile and you can hear his breath hitch the moment you do so.

"I was... so close to video calling my teammates," he says as he lets his shaky hands run through your hair.

"Oh?" You can feel him tremble as you let your free hand slide up his leg. "Well then, it's lucky that I caught you at the right time, or else you might have to share me."

"M-Mc," despite his stutter as he says your name, you know that tone in his voice. He hates sharing you with other people, just the thought of it is enough to leave him agitated.

"Say, remember when you said that you wished you could record me so you could remember that I was yours?"

You hand him your D.D.D. and rest your hands at the hem of his pants. Taking the hint, he starts to aim the camera towards you, his body shaking from the excitement he was currently feeling.

"Mc, are you serious-?"

"What do you want me to do, Levi?"

You let out a soft groan as the hand in your hair finally tightens and eggs you on to continue and stop teasing him.

"Please, please show me that you're all mine, Mc."

Satan:

The moment the towel is dropped, there is nothing but a pindrop silence between you two for a while, save for the god awful drama you were watching with him playing in the background.

"... I knew the drama was boring but fuck, Mc."

"It was really that terrible sex scene that egged me on to do this."

He lets out a soft laugh and scoots over to sit on the edge of your bed, he doesn't say anything but his eyes on the otherhand do. You walk over to him and sit yourself on one of his thighs, your free hand wrapping itself around his neck while his own hands rest themselves on your thighs.

"Such a needy little pet you are."

"Not like you'd have it any other way."

A loud gunshot makes you both jump, your moment together momentarily ruined by the actress crying on screen. While your eyes are glued to the screen, Satan's eyes begin to wander to the recording D.D.D. still in your hand. He gets a brilliant idea all of the sudden.

You're flipped onto the bed with ease and your D.D.D. is now in the hands of Satan himself. Feeling shy all of the sudden you try to cover your face but Satan reaches out to stop you from doing so.

"Say, Mc. Do you think I could make you scream loud enough to drown out the tv's sound?" Pinning your hands above your head, he starts to leave teasingly light kisses on your neck that leave you squirming and whimpering for some rougher contact.

"Why don't we star in our own little drama, what do you say, kitten?"

Asmodeus:

He lets out an excited squeal the moment your robes drop to the floor, he's off his bed and striding over to you, hands quickly finding themselves roaming your body.

"Oh! It must be my birthday today if you're being so needy for once," he nuzzles his face into your neck and lets out a content sigh at the warm feeling of your skin. "I'm a bit sad I couldn't pull this stunt on you first, though. Oh, Mc, you naughty, naughty, human."

Your giggles soon turn to breathy moans and whines as his kisses soon turn to hickies and bites. He starts to guide you onto the bed and doesn't let up on the marking, his hands start to make their way onto your chest and you can feel yourself losing your grip on your D.D.D.

"Oh, I didn't even know you were recording!" He helps guide your hands so your shakily aiming the camera towards him.

"Asmo, I-I don't think I can,"

"Shush, Mc, you started it, and I've always dreamed of recording you and me getting busy." His kisses start to go lower and lower until his close to where you want him the most.

"You always drive me crazy, Mc. It's no fair that a human like you can do this to me."

Beelzebub:

Poor guy was so shocked when your towel fell that he dropped the cake he was eating onto your bed, his face turning bright red at the suddeness of it all. You gasped at the mess but didn't have much time to react as you were quickly pulled into a tight hug. You can feel his heart beat fast against your bare skin.

"Beel-"

"It's unfair that you get to look so cute while pulling a trick like that."

You can feel him leaving soft kisses on the top of your head and you start to melt at the soft affection he's giving you.

"You look so sweet too..."

You don't have much time to react as he sweeps you off your feet and lays you onto the bed, kissing you and letting his hands roam all over you. You're rendered out of breathe rather quickly and you're only brought back to reality after feeling something cold come into contact with your stomach.

"What-?"

"It's the cake."

"That fell on my bed?"

He doesn't answer and instead chooses to lick off the cream now coating you, causing you to squeal and squirm at the sensation.

Your D.D.D. is left laying beside you, thankfully shutting itself off after a while, but that's the last thing on your mind as you feel his lips press against yours once more, the sweet taste of the cake now more apparent than before.

"You're so tasty, Mc. It's okay for me to taste a bit more, right?"

Belphegor:

You needed a more physical approach with him since he was usually asleep, and you needed to be careful with your approach as well. You started by kneeling by the edge of your bed, playing with his hair and letting it tickle his face. When he started to turn over onto his back, a sign he gave you when he wanted you to lay on top of him, you instead began to straddle him, resting your ass against his crotch.

He lets out a gasp at the sudden pressure and sleepily begins to wake up, ready to whine and tell you that you're disturbing his nap. His words die quickly in his throat when he sees you letting your robes fall off your shoulders, letting your top half be exposed. This wasn't really the challenge but you still got a kick out of his sleepy yet flustered expression anyway.

"Aren't you just a sly fox...?"

"Subtle teasing doesn't always work on you."

He chuckles and mutters out a, 'Well, that is true' before pulling you down onto the bed to spoon you. He grabs your D.D.D. out of your hand, ignoring your protests, and places it on your nightstand before wrapping both his arms around your waist.

"This feels so nice..."

You let yourself get comfortable in his hold, assuming that the two of you won't go any further than this because of how he seems to relax behind you. You were dead wrong if you thought he wasn't going to get back at you for not only disrupting his sleep but also teasing him like that.

You can feel him start to grind against you and the hands around your waist soon find themselves on your chest, pinching and massaging them. He lets out a low chuckle when you let out a sudden gasp at his administrations.

"Since you had your fun teasing and recording me, I'm sure you don't mind me getting a bit of payback, right Mc?"

Others: Holy fucking shit this took me ages to write because I had no idea how to approach it. I'm so sorry if this is so off topic to the original request! Still, despite being shit at writing smut I had loads of fun with this! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!