#i dunno if they could tell that i was miserable or if they just really enjoyed playing for people who hate mariachi bands

[sleepymccoy]

Two thirds of a whole

“Your report indicated that you spent some time with the other Spock.”

“He was a strange man to meet,” McCoy muttered, sinking into a chair hesitantly.

“Tell me about him,” Spock invited, filling their glasses.

McCoy leant on the table and raised a hand. “Now, I don't want to sound egotistical, but the only change I know of was my not being on the Enterprise.”

“It is not egotistical to report your observations.”

McCoy smiled. “You might be wanting to take that back shortly, we'll see if I let you.”

Spock's gaze flashed to him. A strange expression passed his face, softer than most Spock let through when he was in control of himself, then he seemed to make a decision and looked at McCoy squarely. “Tell me,” he repeated.

“Well, he was lonely,” McCoy said simply. “He and their Jim weren't friendly. You- they weren't arguing or any sort, just not friendly. Jim was thinner too, more professional and detached. Broke my heart a bit. He did too.”

“He being the other Spock,” Spock clarified.

“Yeah.” McCoy pulled the water glass over and pressed it against his bourbon glass, feeling the grating tension of glass on glass in his fingers. “Didn't get along a lick with anyone on board. Didn't offer comments or defend his opinions beyond the bare minimum. He just worked, then went to his room and stayed there.”

“He sounds like a better Vulcan than I.”

McCoy glared at Spock. “You're the better man,” he shot back. Then, before Spock could disagree on principle, he continued. “He was sad, Spock, miserable and lonely! The way he latched onto me at the end there, you…” he sighed. “Ah, I dunno.”

Spock's eyebrow raise was enough of a response to keep McCoy talking.

“I don't know,” McCoy said carefully, “what he was getting out of me that no one else gives. I'd like to understand.”

“You are asking what benefit I find in knowing you?”

McCoy grit his teeth. “I suppose.” He drank. “You’re allowed to kick me out.”

Spock crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. “It is a simple enough answer,” he said. “You are the antithesis of Vulcan logic. You exemplify the most challenging type of human interaction I could have - that is, one whose argument is based in emotion and unmoving. But you explain yourself well, and have improved my comprehension of the convoluted decision making processes humans take.”

“Huh,” McCoy said. He drank.

“Additionally- ”

“There's more?”

Spock ignored him. “- you take time to point out when I am culturally insensitive. Many simply take offense, but you communicate it. Often, you communicate it excessively. Perhaps this other Spock lacked your early tutelage and suffered for it. Although, I must add, Vulcan intimacy is far more impersonal than human and perhaps he is pleased with his relationships on board. Knowing no other.”

“He kissed me like he was dying.”

Spock's hand lurched, knocking against his water glass. It didn't tip over, they had broad bases in case of turbulance, but it shook from the impact.

McCoy went quiet and drank his bourbon.

“Where did he kiss you?” Spock asked at a whisper.

McCoy looked at the table top. Real wood, Spock was more of a sensualist than he admitted. “On the mouth, Spock, how dirty d'you think I am?”

“I mean- so, he kissed you in the human way?”

Spock's hands were balled into tight fists. His eyes were wide, his cheeks green. He was quite still.

“Yeah, I hadn't considered that,” McCoy said, trying with all his might to sound unaffected and like they were discussing lab results. He remembered the feeling of Spock’s fingers in his mouth. “He was good at it too, wonder where he learnt it.”

Spock waved his hand absently. Those fingers… “Before I met you,” he muttered. “Wait. You allowed it to continue long enough to tell? Were you willing?”

“I was surprised at first, but, Spock, there’s something about you- ”

Spock stood, his chair scraping back loudly.

“God, don't hit me,” McCoy muttered, “you're really strong.”

---

This fic is complete now! If you enjoyed the snippet you'll enjoy the rest of the shenanigans they get up to <3

[crsinclair]

Suddenly remembering a family Christmas Eve dinner that I endured had some years ago at a Mexican restaurant, and though I started off the evening hating it and wishing I had the freedom to leave (I was forced to ride with someone else instead of taking my own car), by the time dinner was over I was quite eager to stay for dessert.

I should preface this by saying that I do not have a healthy relationship with my parents (biological or otherwise). They have never treated me well and the holidays were always, always a bad time for me because they would say words of love and then turn around and do things like gaslight or worse.

Anyways, a story of me being petty and taking advantage of a bad situation!

Now, I couldn't tell you the name of the restaurant to save my life. What I can tell you is that it was a fancy Mexican restaurant, the kind with the servers in white button up shirts, black slacks, and black aprons, they brought their fajitas out on a cart still cooking, and they only served certain meats (like cabrito) on an actual, literal spit that they brought to the table and let you carve up there. All the dishes were frightfully expensive, too.

I was not allowed to get anything expensive, no, but everyone else got to order fajitas and margaritas and that delicious goat meat and -

*deep breaths*

Anyways, I was not having a good time. I wasn't able to get anything good, nobody was ordering any fucking queso, and the place was crowded so I couldn't even hear most of my family talking. My step-dad was poking fun at me for being a grump, my mother was trying to tell me to cheer up because I was ruining the night, my grandmother was telling me to think godly thoughts, my aunts were looking at me in concern, my brothers were not getting involved (and honestly looking back I don't blame them), and my Gung Gung was just looking forward to cabrito.

About five minutes after we ordered our main dishes, though, the Mariachi band arrived.

They came in and immediately started playing music. Loud, obnoxious, in-your-face music. The restaurant was already loud, but oh, suddenly it was much, much louder.

My mother groaned and made a disgusted face. "Ugh, Mariachi bands."

"What's wrong with Mariachi bands?" I asked.

"Nothing, I guess," she said, shrugging, but her disgust did not fade. "I just don't like them. I just really, really don't like them."

So I looked at the band with intrigue.

For a while I just watched them go around the room, playing at tables one by one. I assumed, because people were waving them over, that they were playing music in exchange for some money. That assumption was pretty much confirmed when the band got closer to our table and I leaned over and watched as someone handed one of the band members a 20 dollar bill.

Then our server came by to refill our drinks. She noticed that I was watching the band, and as she poured water into my glass she smiled at me.

"Do you want them to play for your table?" she asked me.

I gave her an awkward smile and a shrug in return. "Oh, I don't have a whole lot of money."

"They've already been paid for by the restaurant," the server told me. "All you have to do is get their attention."

"...Wait, really?"

"Really."

I glanced at my mother. She hadn't noticed my conversation with the server at all.

"...Yeah, I would like them to play for our table."

Less than a minute later the band was right next to our table, and right next to me. All of the members of the band were eagerly looking at me, smiling widely. "What would you like us to play?" one of them asked. "Any requests?"

Still, no one else at the table noticed.

"No, play whatever you feel like," I said, smiling back. "And if you can, when you don't have anybody else flagging you down, please come back to this table? I don't have much, but I can afford at least a few dollars in tips."

That got confused expressions on their faces, but they shrugged, said sure, brought their instruments up into positions, and started to play.

The entire table jumped.

My mother turned around in horror, looking at the Mariachi band members as they started loudly playing and singing Feliz Navidad. She had no idea what the hell was going on, but she didn't like it. "Excuse me!" she called to them. "Can you move, please? You're right next to our table!"

"Of course they are," I piped up, surprising my mother. "I called them over here and asked them to play."

"You what?"

"I thought you noticed," I said, playing innocent. "After all, I'm sitting right next to you."

We stayed at the restaurant for another two hours. The Mariachi band came back to our table many, many times as they said they would - by the fifth visit they cottoned on to what my game was, and they stopped accepting my money. Instead, they happily danced around the table and played even louder. The tables next to ours also became aware of what I was doing, and they laughed each time the band came by.

I gleefully sang along to all the songs they played, even if I didn't know the words. My mother wanted me to stop, to be quiet, but I was "finally having fun, mom, didn't you want me to cheer up?" I even got my aunts to join in, and my step-dad and grandmother were too caught up in their drinks and talking to my Gung Gung to notice anything.

My brothers only sit there and laughed, too.

As we finally left, I was grinning and skipping. "I think I love Mariachi bands," I told my mother.

She could only groan.

[sideysvault]

𐙚⋆° Convincing Deadpool that you like his face just as it is𐙚⋆°

Pairing: Wade Wilson x fem!reader

Friends to lovers. 500 wc

Warnings: Foul language

────────

- His morals had been down ever since he got rejected from the avengers. And as much as you tried to support his attempts at having a “normal” life, you couldn’t help but notice he was trying to hide and make himself smaller. You couldn’t stand it. You missed the man he used to be. The man you couldn’t help but have a massive crush on.

- Deadpool and you met fairly recently, but you clicked immediately. There was something about Wade’s personality that went really well with yours. You always knew you’d be in trouble if you two got close. You couldn’t help but be overly attracted by his unexpected acts of kindness, his loyalty, his humor and, of course, how his red suit tightly hugged his body.

-Even if you knew that he was going through a rough patch, you never expected it to go this far. You tried so hard to contain the snort that came out of you when you saw his “hair system”. And you failed miserably.

“You are a cruel, motherfucker. I hate you”

“Wade, baby. A wig?”

“It’s not a wig! It’s a hair system”

“Ok, sure. But you don’t need it. You know that, right?”

“I’m in sales for fucks sake. I’ll starve to death if I don’t wear this shit”

“Fuck. Them. Plus, A summer balayage it’s so not your style anyway

- Having dinner at his place had become a normal occurrence. Al would even sometimes join the two of you. And you couldn’t help but notice that he is always overly careful. Wade only lifts his mask enough for him to be able to eat. At the end of a particularly fun night (And, after having a couple of beers) You encourage him to take it out. All the way. You reall don’t mind.

“No, Cupcake. I don’t want you to choke on your food and die by shock. Imagine a third degree burn victim that somehow got Proctitis on their face. That’s me”

Your heart skipped a bit. Something turned in your stomach. The sudden feeling that he wasn’t really joking over you came all over your body. You were almost sure that your heart just broke a little bit. But you try not to push him too much.

You get up and come closer to him. You took all the courage you could mustard and gave him a little kiss on the right side of his chin. One of the few spots of his damaged skin that you’d seen

“I dunno. Seems pretty okay to me”

He lifted his gaze at you. Even with the mask on, you could tell he felt some sense of evasive curiosity. And just as you were starting to worry that you had gone too far… A cocky smile appeared on his face as he said “You can be sweet. Big time. Who would’ve guessed”

You mirrored his smile. And, God. You looked gorgeous. Wade always thought he never stood a chance. He wasn’t easy to be around, let alone love. But after all, the woman might just feel the same way he does.

That day, a beam of hope lingered over the two of you.

────────

Notes: Based on this request!. I might rewrite this very soon, life has been a bit more hectic than usual -Sidey x

[astralee]

sirius doesn’t know what possessed him to stand in front of you and ask for a hug but as he stares at your shocked expression, he’s already regretting it. “ah y’know what, it’s fine. dunno what came over me.”

you catch onto the sheepish expression on his face before he lowers his head to stare at his shoes. it’s not like you’ve never hugged before so why were you so shocked? “of course you can have a hug sirius. i was just shocked you asked me is all.”

“thought you might not have wanted one, i didn’t just wanna jump you.” he murmured but made no move to hug you.

taking the lead, you wrapped your arms around him first and he sagged into you as though you’d taken a heavy burden off of his shoulders. his hold on your waist was tight and secure and you come to realise he must’ve really needed this hug. “you okay?”

you could feel him nod before he spoke. “m’fine.” his words were mumbled into your jumper so he lifted his head and rested his chin on your shoulder. “weathers just miserable.”

you’d noticed he was often a bit more down during shitty weather, how could you not take notice that the usually loud boy was unusually quiet. “shall we go and listen to music? blast it loud enough to cover the storm.” you suggested. “we can close the curtains and act like it’s not even happening.”

“you want to?” he pulled away and questioned. “don’t wanna make you stop reading just because i’m a bit dramatic.”

“i want to.” you assured him. sure, the weather was perfect for getting cozy and submerging yourself in a book but there’s always time to read. making sirius cheer up was the only thing you wanted right now. “and for the record, you can hug me whenever.”

you couldn’t quite tell what he felt when he stared at you but the smile on his face hinted at something positive. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Golden Ratio - Part Two

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Derogatory language, angst, smut, virginity loss. Word count: ~4.7k

Chapter summary: Her and Michael struggle with the social side of university, and with each other. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @assortedseaglass. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She is halfway through her second can of Carling, having downed the first as soon as Michael handed it to her, before she feels ready to speak.

In a rare display of empathy, he had handed her a lager the moment he’d opened his door to her, clearly having taken note of her miserable state. There isn’t a mirror in his room, so she has no idea of how puffy her eyes may still be from crying.

The beer is warm, but it’s doing its job and that’s all she really cares about right now. With every pass of the fizzy, amber liquid down her throat she feels lighter - she doesn’t normally drink, so it doesn’t take long.

“Go on then,” she says miserably, drink held in a loose grip between both hands as she perches on the edge of his bed. “You can say ‘I told you so’.”

“About what?” He says, eyeing her carefully, from where he is seated on his computer chair, turned away from his desk to face where she currently sits, the frame of it creaking slightly as he sits forward.

She exhales, keeping her gaze fixed on the ring pull of her beer. “Rich…he’s…he’s been cheating on me.”

“Oh.” 

Michael clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable, and for a moment she thinks he won’t say anything else. Her mouth turns downwards bitterly, thinking it’s best she just leaves.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, so quietly she almost doesn’t hear it.

Her head snaps up, eyes locking with his, and he leans back as though wary of her reaction.

“For what?” She asks, a mirthless smile tugging at her lips as she cocks her head.

He bows his head, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. “I dunno,” he glances back up at her, “just something people say, isn’t it? When something bad happens…”

“I don’t want your empty words,” she tells him, setting her can down by her feet before resting back on her palms. “Tell me what you’re really thinking.”

“You’re already upset,” he states matter of factly, “I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Fuck what you think!” She exclaims, shifting back to the edge of the bed. “Tell me.”

“Alright, fine,” Michael sighs, “I think Rich is a fucking loser, and him cheating is the best thing that could have happened–”

“Wow, thanks–”

“No, let me finish. He’s reading art, for fuck’s sake! What could you possibly have in common? You can do better, you’ve got a brilliant mind.”

Brilliant. 

In two years, Rich had never once called her that. A feeling of warmth passes through her as her eyes meet the vibrant blue of Michael’s.

“You really believe that?”

“I know that.”

They stare at each other in silence for a few seconds, and she has no idea what possesses her, but suddenly she is leaning forward, pressing her lips to his. He is hesitant to respond, and when he does it’s chaste and uncertain, a marker of inexperience or unwillingness which she cannot decipher, so she pulls away.

But then he is chasing her, large hands cradling her head as he tugs her back, his mouth finding hers once more. This time the pressure is equal, their breathing heavy as the sticky sound of their saliva grows more significant. 

Moving from the bed, not breaking the kiss, she straddles his lap, ignoring the way the chair wheels back against the desk with a heavy thud. Her fingers thread into Michael’s short, sandy hair, as the embrace deepens, her tongue brushing against his. She grinds herself down upon the rapidly growing bulge she can feel beneath the zipper of his cargo shorts, causing a rumble of approval to vibrate from deep within his chest.

It feels good to feel wanted, but as their hands paw haphazardly at each other through their clothes, doubt creeps into her mind. If this is his first kiss, then it would be his first time too. He is her friend, her project partner, she has just broken up with her boyfriend. None of this is a good idea.

Reluctantly, she pulls away, sheepishly climbing from his lap. They’re both breathing heavily, and Michael gingerly adjusts his glasses as he looks up at her in silent question.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” she says breathlessly, running a hand through her hair, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m a bit pissed and got carried away…”

“Oh,” his eyes widen, as he nods in understanding, subtly moving to adjust himself in his shorts, “of course. I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

She reaches out a hand, not quite touching him, but wanting to placate him as she fervently shakes her head. “No, no, it’s me taking advantage. I don’t want to ruin things between us. We’re friends.”

“Friends?” The way his eyes light up as he says the word makes her smile, hopeful that she hasn’t caused irreparable damage between.

“Yeah, friends.”

She needs that more than anything right now.

“So, what are you hoping to do once you graduate?” Michael asks, glancing between her and their collective notes.

It’s the day before they are due to present back to Professor’s Byrne’s class, and they have met in the library to go over everything one final time.

In the days since their kiss they have grown closer; sitting next to each other in the remainder of their introductory lectures and meeting up to work on their project, though they both know it is complete and needs nothing else doing to it.

She has grown used to Michael’s intensity, would go as far as to say she is fond of it, and genuinely looks forward to seeing him each day. Oxford feels far less lonely with him by her side.

“Something in the field of medical research,” she says, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the delicate softness of the petals of the sunflower head they’d cut down a few days prior. I read Professor Byrne’s paper before I applied here. It inspired me.”

“The one on biomedical systems?”

Her eyes light up as she smiles at him. “You read it?”

“Hmm. An interesting read, though I much prefer mechanics.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Yes, I think so. I’ve been reading a lot about random matrix theory. I’d like to go into the field of statistical mechanics.”

“I look forward to reading one of your research papers one day.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, though she doesn’t miss the faintest of pink that tinges his cheeks.

It’s the day of the presentations, and just as she’d suspected, almost every group in the glass has presented back a table relating to how the Fibonacci sequence creates a spiral. Her and Michael share a knowing look, a smug smirk of satisfaction on each of their faces.

Aside from one presentation, which did in fact focus on rabbits, but delved too deeply into mating habits to be considered mathematical, theirs is entirely unique.

She beams with pride as she catches the impressed smile of Professor Byrne from the corner of her eye as they stand at the front of the lecture hall, talking through their findings.

“Very well done, both of you,” she tells them as they return to their seats.

The compliment makes her heart soar, providing her with a rush that lasts long after the class has been dismissed.

“Let’s go to the pub,” she says excitedly to Michael as they walk down Woodstock Road, away from the Mathematical Institute.

“You want to go to the pub? It’s the middle of the day.”

“There are no more lectures today, and I feel like celebrating. We really impressed Professor Byrne.”

Fifteen minutes later they’re sitting in the Lamb and Flag. A bright pink straw juts out of the neck of her bottle of Smirnoff Ice, and she rolls it between her fingers playfully as she watches Michael sip his pint.

The pub is half full with other students, all either skipping lectures or making the most of a free period.

“I told you that focusing on flowers would make us stand out,” she says, unable to suppress her grin.

Michael swallows his beer, wiping his mouth the back of his hand once he’s settled the pint glass back down on the beer mat. “Yeah, you did. We made the rest of the class look like losers,” he says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, we make quite the team, don’t we?”

He smiles, lowering his gaze and nods. There it is again, that adorable pink flush that dusts his cheeks.

“I’m gonna go to the loo. Will you watch my drink for me?”

He nods, watching as she stands and walks to the ladies.

Five minutes later, she can no longer see him at their table as she returns, though both their drinks are still there. She peers around the corner, seeing him standing before a larger group of students. A few she has seen around before, though they’re not on their course.

“So, is she your girlfriend then?” She overhears one of the guys ask Michael.

“No, not my girlfriend,” he responds, “but I’m helping her get over a break up, if you know what I mean.”

She swallows, feeling her heart lurch as she listens, unable to believe what she’s hearing.

“Oh yeah? Really helping her get over it, I bet,” the guy says, earning raucous laughter from the rest of the group.

She storms towards them, deciding she’s heard enough. Despite wanting to sound angry, her voice trembles as she speaks, betraying the tears she’s fighting to hold back. “I haven’t slept with you!” She shouts at Michael, meeting his shocked, wide eyed stare. “I would never sleep with you!”

Turning on her heel, the pub door swings open with a squeak of hinges as she pulls on it. She walks quickly down St. Giles’, swiping angrily at the tears that have begun to roll down her cheeks.

How could he? They were supposed to be friends and he’d talked about her as though she was something cheap. She had thought Michael was different to everyone else.

Back in her room, a hollow ache has burrowed its way into her chest, as she lays flat on her back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The high of that morning’s presentation is long forgotten as her mind races with thoughts of what she’d overheard in the pub.

Why had he spoken about her like that? Had he been pretending to like her all this time just for the sake of the presentation?

Nausea swirls in her gut as she’s startled from her throughs by a soft knock at her door. She knows who it will be before she even answers it, and is half tempted to simply ignore it, she doesn’t want to see him. However, curiosity gets the better of her and before she can stop herself, she’s moving towards the door to open it.

Michael stands on the other side, posture not as straight as it usually is, as his shoulders slope and he looks at her imploringly. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he looked remorseful, but he is too self assured for such emotions.

“What do you want?” She asks tiredly.

“I’m sorry,” he says meekly, his voice softer than usual. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” she snaps. “So why did you?!”

“When you went to the toilet, that group called me over, started asking questions and I…I don’t know…I just wanted to feel what it would be like to be normal, just once. I–”

She feels anger run hot in her blood, nostrils flaring as he speaks and cuts him off. “I’m not here to act as your fucking cloak of normality, Michael! Fortunately, we’ve already given the presentation.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, brows pinching together with concern.

“I mean that the need for us to continue speaking to one another is over.”

She slams the door in his face, choking back a sob.

Fuck Michael Gavey. She is so incredibly angry with him, she wants nothing more to do with him. And yet she can’t understand why it hurts so much, somehow this feels worse than what Rich had done to her.

The next few days are torturous. She avoids Michael as much as she can, sitting away from him in lectures, looking away when she catches him staring at her. Seeing him online on MSN makes her heart ache, yet she can’t find it in herself to simply block and delete him. It feels too final somehow, worsened by the fact that she stares obsessively at his username, a part of her hoping a message will pop up from him. It never does.

Life goes back to feeling bland and lonely, with nothing to look forward to anymore. She goes about her days, alone, and then sits in her room, alone.

A week later and she is back in Professor Byrne’s class, only this time she seats herself as far away from Michael as she possibly can, trying not to think about how happy she’d felt to present beside him the last time she was in this room.

“So, I hope you all enjoyed your introductory project,” she begins, as she enters the room, setting her briefcase down upon the desk at the front. “It wasn’t just an exercise in presenting what you know about the Fibonacci sequence, it was a test of how well you work in pairs. That being said, the person you worked with will also be the person you are paired with for your upcoming tutorials with me.”

Her heart sinks.

No, no, no.

Chancing a glance over at Michael, she feels herself grow hot as she sees he’s already looking at her, and she quickly turns away. She had hoped to be able to avoid him, but now would have to spend an hour in close confines with him once a week for the remainder of first year.

Her heart races for the rest of the lecture and she finds herself unable to concentrate, hurriedly packing her bag and rushing to leave the room the moment they’re dismissed.

Unfortunately, Michael has beaten her to it and is waiting for her in the corridor. She bows her head, moving to step around him, but he blocks her path.

“I’ll ask for a different tutorial partner,” he says, “you needn’t worry about having to interact with me.”

She looks up at him, her eyes wide with shock. Her throat tightens as she’s met with the sight of his baby blues, boring a hole into her. “Don’t…don’t do that. It would look bad to Professor Byrne. We can both be mature about this.”

Silently she forces away the sadness she feels at him not wanting to be partnered with her. He’s in the wrong, not the other way around, she has to remind herself.

“As long as you’re sure?” He asks, shifting from one foot to the other, clearly feeling as uneasy as she does.

“I’m sure. I’ll see you around,” she tells him, finally stepping past and walking away.

“See you tomorrow,” he calls after her.

What?!

She rifles in her bag, pulling out her freshly printed timetable.

There it is. Tutorial - 9.05 - Prof. Byrne.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

She is filled with restless energy until the next morning. Her leg bounces involuntarily as she sits in the armchair next to Michael’s in the small, stuffy room of Professer Byrne’s office, who is seated opposite them.

Her eyes scan the shelves of books, the various notebooks that are fanned across the table, anything to avoid looking at Michael, until the older woman speaks.

“So, I hope you’ve both come with notes prepared to discuss the various ways of describing and displaying data, as discussed yesterday?”

Her face blanches. She’d been too distracted following the tutorial announcement to pay attention, and hadn’t heard her assign this. She has done no reading or note taking.

Michael glances over at her, taking in her worried expression. “Actually,” he interjects, “I think we may have misunderstood the instructions. We worked on this as a pair too, I hope you’ll forgive us just this once?”

The professor sighs, crossing her legs and tapping her pen against her pad. “Fine. Just this once. But I require individual work moving forward, you aren’t earning your degrees as a joint effort.”

“Understood,” Michael nods, rifling through his papers. “Here,” he says, leaning across and handing her a few sheets. “These are your notes.”

Slowly she takes them from him, her eyes scanning the pages, mostly graphs and tables of data, easy enough to understand and explain, without needing context.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, offering him a small smile.

The tutorial goes ahead without any further hiccups. Michael talks passionately and competently about what he’s read and the notes he’s taken, and she manages to talk through the data points he has provided her. If Professor Byrne suspects any unpreparedness, she doesn’t say.

Once it’s over and they step out into the hallway, she hands the papers back to him. “Why did you do that?” She asks quietly.

“You hadn’t prepared anything,” he says with a shrug.

“That was really nice of you.”

“It’s the least I owe you.”

“Thank you.”

He nods. “It won’t happen a second time. Come prepared next week. I want to hear what that brilliant mind of yours can come up with.”

There it is again. Brilliant mind.

She smiles at that, though her heart twists painfully in her chest as she watches him walk away. This is what she had wanted, she has to remind herself, he’d disrespected her.

Another two weeks go by, and though she is lonely it gets easier not having to avoid Michael. She finds their weekly tutorials are something she looks forward to, enraptured by how fervently he speaks about each topic, and preening with pride as he sits clearly impressed as she talks through her own notes and findings.

She misses him, though she is too proud to admit it. He had hurt her, and she’d told him to stay away. It would be humiliating to crawl back to him after that.

It’s Friday night and she’s in desperate need of a snack, so heads out of her room in the direction of the vending machines, running straight into a group of girls from her floor as they’re walking out.

Their giggles die down to silence as they see her, all offering her awkward, but obviously fake smiles.

“Not out tonight?” One of them asks, she’s fairly certain her name is Annabel, from what she’s heard in the corridors.

She shakes her head. “No, not tonight.”

“You could come out with us? We’re off to The Bull.”

She scans the faces of the other girls, all clearly less than enthusiastic about her presence, then shakes her head. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Oh, darling, I wasn’t asking,” Annabel giggles, grabbing her arm.

Less than thirty minutes later she finds herself squashed around a table in The Bullingdon, next to Annabel. She recognises Felix and Farleigh as part of the group they’ve joined, all passing around Jägerbombs and cigarettes.

She feels out of place and underdressed, in jeans and a long sleeved shirt. The rest of the girls are all dressed up in colourful, sparkly eyeshadow and low cut tops.

Amidst the din of their laughter and seemingly endless chatter, set to a backdrop of ‘SOS’ by Rhianna, she can barely hear herself think. She sips anxiously at her coke, pressing her lips together and shaking her head when Annabel jiggles the 35cl bottle of vodka she’s produced from her bag, asking “want some voddy in that?”

Her focus is pulled away when she spots Michael tucked away in the corner. He’s sitting opposite the guy she saw him with on the first night, whose name she has since learned is Oliver.

Her and Michael lock eyes and he gives her a polite nod before returning his focus back to his own conversation. To be so close and yet so far from him makes her ache.

Try as she might, her gaze keeps wandering back to him, unable to focus on the people around her. She watches with keen interest as he rises from his table, headed towards the gents as Oliver makes his way to the bar.

“Olly! Olly! Over here!” Shouts Felix, and to her surprise, Oliver skulks over, with the body language of someone who’s about to ask them for spare change rather than join their group.

She raises an eyebrow as Felix shuffles over, making space for him to sit down and wonders if Michael will join them too.

Her question is answered when he returns from the toilets, giving Oliver an awkward wave which goes unanswered.

“Shit sorry,” Felix says, “are you here with your mate?”

“Nah, he’s just leaving,” Oliver says nonchalantly, accepting the shot he’s been passed.

From the way Michael bows his head and leaves the pub, she knows that’s the furthest thing from the truth, and shoots Oliver a pointed look.

“‘Scuse me,” she says quietly to Annabel, pushing out of her seat and following after Michael.

The chilly October air is biting against her skin in juxtaposition with the sticky warmth of the pub, as she attempts to follow his lanky gait.

“Michael, wait!” She calls after him, hurrying her steps to catch him up.

He stops, turning to her, a look of defeat on his face. “Go back to your mates.”

“They’re not my mates, and they’re not yours either,” she says softly. “I saw what Oliver did to you, that was out of order.”

“The closest thing I’ve felt to normal since coming here is hanging out with you,” he tells her. “The rest of them are all vapid cunts.”

“Then let’s go back to hanging out again,” she offers, stepping towards him.

“After what I did to you?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I miss my friend,” she says honestly, “come on, we’ll make our own fun, we don’t need those losers.”

He laughs softly, and for the first time in weeks she feels whole again.

There’s an odd sense of coming home as she steps inside of Michael’s room, the welcoming warmth wrapping itself around her like a familiar blanket.

“There’s beer under the desk,” he tells her, closing the door behind him.

She makes her way over towards it, pausing when she sees the papers on top of it.

A First Course in Random Matrix Theory for Physicists, Engineers and Data Scientists is printed in large font on the top page, she lifts it away, seeing that on the second is a simple dedication to her.

Her heart flutters as she draws in a shaky breath. “What’s this?”

“Fuck!” He exclaims, eyes going wide as he steps towards the desk. “I hadn’t expected you to come back here. I’d forgotten I’d left this out. You said in the library a few weeks ago that you’d be keen to read my first paper when I published it. It isn’t finished, but I wanted to dedicate it you, since you made my first week here so–”

She presses her lips to his, hands reaching up to cup his cheeks as she kisses him fiercely. Michael returns the gesture, long arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close.

“...so wonderful,” he finishes breathlessly, pressing his forehead to hers when they finally part for air.

“I look forward to reading it,” she grins up at him.

“Well, if you wanted, you could–”

“Do you really want me to read your paper right now?” She asks, gripping the front of his t-shirt and pulling him towards the bed.

“On second thoughts…”

He pulls her back in and their mouths meet again, desperate and needy as they topple onto the bed, tugging eagerly at each other’s clothing, quickly undressing each other.

Their pace slows once they are fully bare, and she runs her hands up and down the length of Michael’s sturdy back, enjoying the weight of his lithe body on top of hers.

“I missed you,” she whispers.

“I was an idiot,” he tells her, holding his weight up on his palms.

“Mmmm. The most stupid genius I know.”

He huffs a laugh. “I think I know just the thing that might cheer you up,” he tells her, moving down her body.

She props herself up on her elbows, watching with keen interest as he moves down her body, placing her legs over his shoulders once he reaches the juncture of her thighs.

He is hesitant at first, studying her closely, but then presses forward. She yelps at the sensation, all of his focus is on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex, and it feels electrifyingly intense with the motion in which the tip of his tongue moves against it. It’s too much.

She squirms, pushing him away with a squeal.

“Did you not like that?” He asks, seeming unsure of himself as he sits on his haunches, adjusting his glasses.

“It was a bit too much,” she admits, giggling slightly.

“Oh…sorry,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “I read you’re supposed to shape out the letters of the alphabet when you do that. I’ve always been more of a numbers man, so I went for Pi instead.”

She laughs loudly, reaching for him when he bows his head in embarrassment. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I just want you.”

“Come here,” she says, leaning over to rummage in her purse for a condom. “May I?”

He nods, shuffling closer as she tears open the packet. He hisses through his teeth when she wraps her hand around him. He’s warm and thick, foreskin silky smooth as she gently rubs her hand up and down the length of him, feeling every ridge and vein.

“Is this your first time?” She asks softly, as she rolls the rubber from tip to base.

“Um…yeah…is that a problem?” He asks, reluctantly meeting her eye.

“Not if it isn’t for you,” she tells him earnestly, free hand stroking his cheek. “Do you want me to go on top?”

He shakes his head. “No…no, I want to feel you.”

She smiles in understanding, laying back and coaxing him to move over her, spreading her legs to accommodate him.

He feels heavy against her entrance and she fights to resist the urge to cant her hips forward, wanting to take things at a pace he’s comfortable with.

His jaw slackens as he pushes forward, and she sighs in pleasure at the slow stretch of him bottoming out inside of her. Their breaths are hot against each other's necks as he stills, adjusting to the new sensation.

When he eventually withdraws to slowly push back in again, she moves her hips in time with his, encouraging him, and he quickly finds a rhythm. They are a clash of teeth and tongues as their mouths meet messily, hands exploring each other as the bed creaks beneath the exertion of their movements.

“F–fuck…you feel good..” he mutters, causing her to moan and her toes to curl, as he nudges against her sweet spot.

She could come from this if he keeps it up, and she can feel herself clenching around him as the beginnings of her peak approach. Right as she teeters on the edge, he groans, pulsating and spilling into the sheath that separates them.

“Sorry..” he whispers, looking at her with fogged up lenses.

“It’s okay,” she reassures him, her fingers stroking through the hair at the side of his head, brushing over the temple of his glasses. “It felt good.”

“But you didn’t…you know…”

“Plenty of time for that,” she says, pecking his lips. “Like I said, we’ll make our own fun, won’t we?”

“Get another condom then,” he says, pulling out of her. “I’ve still got some making up to do.”

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

Mia: God, Ivan.. you’ve spent this whole holiday moping. Ivan: Ain’t you s’posed t’be able t’do whatever y’want on vacation? Mia: [sighs] I guess, but you’re bumming me out. Ivan: Sorry. Mia: I’m tryna make you feel better, is all. No one said I was any good at it. Ivan: Thanks for tryin’-.. you’re doin’ pretty good. Mia: I reckon you just needed some time to think, y’know? You can sit down n’ hash it all out once you get home. Ivan: I know him well enough by now t’know he’ll be gone by the time I get back. I’m done, either way-.. he made his choice n’ it ain’t one I can get behind. Mia: Well, it’s hard to understand without the full story but I’ll take your word for it. Ivan: I thought about askin’ him t’marry me at one point… Mia: Why didn’t you? Ivan: Maybe I could tell his heart wasn’t in it by then-.. maybe it was daft t’think we actually wanted the same things. I dunno if I’m even surprised the more I think about it. Mia: Don’t think about it then. Ivan: Easier said than done, ‘specially with Tilda rubbin’ salt in the wound-.. gallivanting all over the place with Triss. Mia: I’m sure you’ll find someone else to gallivant with one day. Ivan: Nah, I’m fuckin’ cursed. [Mia sighed as Ivan launched into a self-deprecating tirade about his miserable love life and the many, many failed relationships and subsequent breakups he’d been through that were all his fault. By the time he’d reached his teens, she’d had enough] Ivan: Oi, I’m talkin’ here! Mia: You’re ranting. Ivan: I was singin’ your praises for helpin’ a second ago n’ now y’fuckin’ off? Mia: Cutting this pity party short is helping, so keep singin’ em! Ivan: [scoffs] It ain’t a pity party. Mia: Time heals all wounds, you’re amazing, you’ll find someone else-.. byeeeee. Ivan: Tch, not likely. Pixie: What? Ivan: Nothin’, petal. Pixie: This couch smells rank. [Ivan chuckled as his imitating lil lady joined him, fond as always-.. maybe none of it mattered as long as she was happy] Ivan: It really does, huh?

[rocksibblingsau]

Love love love ur ideas!!!!

Do you have any more headcanons for Mount Rageon Branch or Adopted by Bergens Branch?

In Mount Rageon Branch, Velvet and Veneer are still a lil self absorbed and looking for the easy way out of things. They don't wanna do any hard work, meanwhile Branch is all about hard work and doing things for yourself.

Branch sees them fighting over wanting fame and it reminds him of his brothers, so he makes it his goal to help them realize their dreams AND remain close. Since they'd be training from childhood, they'd have a better shot at learning how to sing thanks to Branch.

I can't decide if they actually do end up good singers but if they do, Branch is their manager and there would be a moment where post BroZone reunion they see Branch managing and have JD flashbacks. Branch doesn't get bad like John did about controlling their image, but the sight of Branch taking charge and giving orders for show prep really reminds them of a less than happy time of their lives.

Branch: Alright guys, we're gonna open with 'Fame' and close with 'Watch Me Work'. No, wait. Open with 'Sweet Dreams' and close with 'Fame'. Now go out there and make Mount Rageous history! Bruce: Clay I hope you're also an EMT because I think I'm having a heart attack. Clay: I'm with you bro, this is disturbing to watch.

If they don't go the singing route, Branch helps them discover SOME sort of skill they can make it big with.

They don't call him 'Branch'. Velvet decided his name had to match theirs so they call him 'Vine'. They think it's a funny name since he's always on them 'like a vine'. Branch doesn't really care what they call him as long as they stop rubbing his hair trying to suck out his "singing magic".

When Velvet and Veneer found out about Bergens, her solution was "Just stay with us at all times. I'll hold onto you like the last designer handbag at a flash sale."

If they did encounter a Bergen, Velvet would hit them in the head with her purse that weighs 10 tons.

In Bergen Branch AU, Gristle is ironically the excitable kid while Branch can barely muster any enthusiasm for anything. Some people joke that it's like Gristle's a troll at heart and Branch a Bergen. Gristle doesn't go as apathetic and listless as he does in canon since I believe the catalyst was Gristle Sr telling him nothing would ever make him happy. Since in this AU he was given Branch, he was told that Branch would make him happy, so he still has hope.

When they're older, Branch is a sort of sarcastic adviser to Gristle. Everyone's kind of figured out that even if you can get one over on Gristle, the troll on his shoulder won't be fooled and he does NOT show mercy. Gristle also takes his opinion in pretty high regard about pretty much anything.

Branch also gets pretty comfortable with his concept of mortality and he makes jokes about being eaten by Bergens constantly.

Gristle: I got another letter asking if they can buy and eat you. Branch: At this rate I'd be tempted to tell you accept all of them and watch their faces fall when they realize fifty other Bergens also get a piece. Gristle: Branch. Branch: A peanut sized serving of grey troll. Gristle: Branch. Branch: That'd probably be the one thing that could make a Bergen more miserable than you already are, if that's possible. Gristle: Branch. I'm not selling you to get eaten by fifty different Bergens. Branch: You'd be doing me a mercy and ending my suffering.

Gristle: Branch I need you to help me with the audit. Branch: *lays on his palm* Eat me. Gristle: Later. For now you have to help me. Branch: F***. Branch: Is this how you derive joy? Making trolls do your paperwork? You're the only Bergen in the world who would make me do taxes instead of eating me. Gristle: You complain too much and it ruins my appetite. Branch: Has any troll ever not complained? Do you think on Trollstice we were all jumping for joy? 'Yippie! Death!' Gristle: I dunno, try it next time and we'll see if it works.

This trait scares and unnerves other trolls. Poppy asks him to stop once they befriend Bergens because she's worried they'll take offense and "They're our friends now, not troll-eating monsters. That's in the past."

"I'd like it to be in the present so I don't have to listen to another musical number."

[stardust-sunset]

Good morning friend I hope you’re having a good day so far! If you have any may I pls request either some Sodapop hcs or Curtis brother hurt/comfort hcs? It’s that kind of day for me 😔 I hope you have a wonderful day ❤️🎞️

aw, thanks!! I’d be more than happy to! 💛

Sodapop headcanons:

He’s absolutely terrified of bugs. He punched a hole in the wall because he saw a spider (Darry was livid)

He is not a picky eater at all. He will eat food that’s been dropped on the floor. He doesn’t give a shit.

Him and Steve steal snacks from the gas station all the time and just go into the back closet and gorge themselves

Soda is either a laughably awful singer or he has a beautiful voice. No in betweens

He walks around his house shirtless constantly like he’s gods giving gift (he kinda is but Pony and Darry get tired of it)

If you think he’s a bad cuddler when he’s awake just wait until he’s asleep. You’re not getting out of his grasp once he’s asleep. Don’t even try. You’re stuck in bed for the night.

He gets hella bloated after eating and he’s mortified by it

He’s loved the song Rockin’ Robin. I dunno why.

He loves listening to music because it helps him focus on smaller things but then he gets distracted

He hates that his eyes are brown and constantly wishes they were blue

He has ADHD

He never touches a drop of alcohol not because he’s scared or anything but because he despises the way it burns his throat

He’s undefeated in burping competitions aside from Johnny (he can be kinda gross ngl)

Sometimes in the midst of a crisis he’ll just drop an absolute pearl of wisdom and then wonders why everyone stares at him like he has two heads

He believes in ghosts and swears he saw his parents’ ghosts once

He’s a lot more affected by the death of his parents than he lets on

He has the fluffiest hair ever when it isn’t greased back. Him and Pony. Darry has courser hair

He’s a whiny bitch when he’s hungry and doesn’t shut up about how full he is when he’s eaten

He unironically says the corniest shit like “uh oh spaghettios’ and “i need to catch some z’s” and shit like that

He enjoys when Pony reads to him even though he doesn’t pay much attention which frustrates Pony a bit lmao

He prefers to cuddle with Pony over Darry because he says Darry’s chest is “too hard and muscular to be comfortable” which insulted both Pony and Darry to an extent

He is the best pillow in the world. He has the softest tummy you could ever imagine (also the loudest though unfortunately)

His insults are actually really creative and nobody expects it from him

He will put eat a steakhouse in a matter of minutes if you set him down and told him to go crazy

We all know he has a skincare routine (or he would if they could afford that shit)

Sometimes he feels like he’s the glue of the three brothers and if he takes a wrong step they’re all gonna fall apart

He gets a golden retriever when he’s moved out and definitely names it Pepsi-Cola or something

Hurt/Comfort:

You can absolutely tell when Pony is upset. He does NOT have. sooner face lmao

He prefers to be reassured by his brothers over anything else because it’s easier for him to gauge that they actually mean what they say

Boy is a stress eater-one time Darey came home and Pony had eaten an entire cake by himself and was absolutely miserable

He usually tends to gorge himself in meals but when he’s anxious it’s hella different

All three Curtis brothers are stress eaters ngl but Soda is by far the worst

Pony doesnt sleep when he’s anxious. He just sits there awake with his thoughts

He has VIOLENT panic attacks-if you try to touch him and you aren’t a member of the gang have fun with that broken nose of yours

He doesn’t mean it but he will scream at you to not touch him if you go to

Pony is a pretty crier but his panic attacks tend to get ugly

He tends to hit himself when he gets anxious too :( Darry has had to restrain him on more than one occasion because he was seriously scared Pony would hurt himself

The aftermath is a bunch of sniffles and hiccups. He doesn’t talk much before or after a panic attack and it takes effort to get him to open up bai ut what’s wrong

Absolutely will not cry in public. No matter of it’s late at night and he’s alone or not. He’s too scared someone will come by and he wants to look tuff

Darry will hold him while Soda massages his belly to ease his anxious tummy (or to help him digest the morbid amount of food he eats when stressed) and they’ll either address what’s wrong or they’ll distract Pony by talking about something they know he likes

Soda is the same way tbh but it’s because he thinks he shouldn’t be allowed to cry

You can always tell when Soda is upset because he doesn’t eat (canon in the book) and he’s also and normally quiet

He locks himself in his room when he’s upset because he doesn’t wanna burden Darry and he thinks because Pony os his little brother he isn’t allowed to be comforted by him

He had many breakdowns over Sandy and lashed out a lot after because he really loved her and he was furious with her and himself

He kind of shuts down and will just stare ahead at nothing when he’s upset and it’s more unsettling because he’s not moving. He’s not playing with his fingers or bouncing his leg. He just looks completely out of it as he sits still

He gets headaches a lot when he’s anxious and will usually turn in early and that’s even more unusual since he’s a night owl and usually restless at night

But all it takes is a hug and he breaks down completely

Darry came home from work once and literally just hugged Soda as a greeting and Soda started bawling into his chest

He mumbles a lot when he cries too, it’s kinda sad

It doesn’t take long to calm him down-a cuddle session from his brothers is all he needs before he’s satisfied again

As soon as he’s done crying he’s just like “can we have dinner now”

Darry is really stoic when he’s upset

You can always tell because his eyes get a lot colder and harder when something is bothering him

He always denies anything being wrong because he’s supposed to be strong and stable but Pony and Soda constantly asking him gets him to explode

Hes just like “YOU WANNA KNOW WHATS WRONG?!” and then goes into a rant about everything that happened

Pony and Soda just learned to listen because Darry doesn’t exactly want reassurance all the time, he just wants to vent

He paces a lot when he’s ranting too and uses his hands an awful lot to talk

If something is REALLY bad they can kinda tell he may need a good cry because his voice constantly cracks and he swallows a lot more and small thing like that

Pony and Soda work with him post book to just have a good cry every once in a while because it doesn’t mean he’s any less than, it just means he needs to let it out sometimes

Soda always gives him back rubs after because the tension from the anxiety gets to him. Pony just talks to him because Pony has a way with words

All three of them enjoy cuddling though and when one is upset, the other two are absolutely making a cuddle puddle where the anxious one is in the middle and the other two just hold onto the person in the middle

WOOF-that was longer than I meant haha/I hope these are good!

[punkpandapatrixk]

❣️Healthy Love ☆ Timeless Tarot Guidance

Elements/Signs in this reading are calibrated to all aenergetic placements. Feel free to read as many Elements/Signs as you feel called to at this point in your spiritual evolution♡

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

I think, in order to know healthy Love, a lot of people need to be exposed to the complete opposite of it first. I dunno; it seems to be a psychopathic Game created by the Higher Beings…for the purpose of teaching us the true value of Love. How can you know fully what Love is if you never know its opposites?

So yeah, if you’re young and inexperienced, it’s perfectly OK not to be so hard on yourself when you make mistakes in matters of Love and infatuation. We’re all learning to overcome each and all of our crazies. Ultimately, what’s really important is that we develop a stronger psychology and make swift decisions to disengage from whatever relationship/situationship/even friendship that makes us unhealthy and miserable♡

You’ve got this!

☆♪°・. aenergetic companion PAC ☆♪°・.

[PAG Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Healthy Love for 🐞Fire Signs – Green Alchemist (Nicolas Flamel)

4 of Cups, 4 of Pentacles, 6 of Cups Rx

When it comes to Fire Signs, loving is a passionate business. There could often be a desire to pursue something until the end just to prove yourself the victor in a competition. In this sense, are we sure we’re actually in it for the Love for that other person? Or is it just about winning and feeling very special because we’re the Chosen One? XD Fire Signs often don’t even realise that they’re in it just for the thrill—just trying to fulfil some fantasy because daily life is often boring.

If your Love ain’t true, you can’t properly give to the other person. That’s not healthy or fair. Careful you’re not blind to the selfishness of desiring a partner only for that person to fulfil a role in a fantasy of your making. If you must love a person, I hope you love from the heart, with a passion for making that person happy. I hope you love sanely and feel free enough to give and receive.

And also remember that in a true love setting, you don’t act as someone’s saviour in a co-dependent manner. We all can be a healing presence for our dearly beloved who’s been hurt in the past, but we’re not responsible for the healing of someone who doesn’t want to live in the present moment or look towards a better future. Love, is a mutually healing connection, whether in romance, friendship, or familyship~

Oracle Guidance for Fire Signs🔻❤️

🐏Aries – Priestess of Ambition

🦁Leo – Priestess of Prosperity

🎠Sagittarius – Priestess of Love

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Healthy Love for 🐍Earth Signs – Silver Magus (Merlin)

2 of Cups Rx, II The High Priestess Rx, Queen of Cups

Ahhh omaigaaa you’re quite intense when it comes to loving, aren’t you? Earth Signs are not worldwide-level recognised for their passion because you guys are such tsundere. But you care a lot when you’ve fallen in love, so much so, you’re willing to sacrifice even your health for those you prize. I hope you don’t go too far with this kind of tendency. Because if giving too much makes you bitter, in the end, you could flip 180 and turn very selfish instead. Extremes are not healthy, baby. You wanna go back to balance and love sanely <3

But you know what’s even more important when it comes to loving? Honest, real, raw communication. To actually put your feelings, thoughts, emotions, as well as intents into words, so that the other person can VIEW you clearly. That’s your problem, isn’t it? You’re so afraid of talking about emotions because vulnerability is cringe, but in reality, you always have so much to tell someone. Vulnerability with the right person is sweet, not cringe XD

After all, someone who’s truly grateful for all that you’ve done for them, for all that you ARE, will view everything about you as lovely. Why not be lovely back to them? Love is lovely LMAO Love isn’t addictions or obsessions. Real healthy love is sometimes silly, cheesy, but most of all, sweet and lovely XD

Oracle Guidance for Earth Signs🔻💚

🐂Taurus – Priestess of Integrity

🧘🏻‍♀️Virgo – Priestess of Luxury

🐐Capricorn – Priestess of Luck

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Healthy Love for ⛲Air Signs – Green Magus (John Dee)

King of Pentacles, 8 of Wands Rx, XIV Temperance Rx

I think it’s a lie when Air Signs say they don’t feel too much or don’t value feelings over logic. If you’re this type of an Air Sign, you’re probably just unaware of how much you feel for someone. I mean, the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the person you like…isn’t that fuelled by a desire to feel something? XD Air Signs are the cutest when you’re in love, but what’s unhealthy about your style is how much you fookin’ LIE. I dunno, do you lie because you want to impress? Do you lie because you’re embarrassed?

What’s tragic about Air Signs is how you struggle with delivering your real honest thoughts about someone when Air is literally the Element of Communication and Networking hahahah Maybe it’s because you often don’t even facilitate your own emotions and thoughts to exchange information. The head and the heart not agreeing with each other because they aren’t sure what’s going on? You know, the left brain and the right brain synchrony? It’s like you have completely separate departments for feelings and hard facts and they don’t even come into contact with each other.

This is actually kinda the reason why you often feel unbalanced when you have fallen in love with someone. You tend to feel pulled in just one direction which feels wrong and uncomfortable. Ultimately, for being an Air Sign, this is part of your character development to balance yourself in the way you perceive romance and relationships, even friendships. Hard facts and objectivity are crucial to maintain a just society, but remember as well that the Human Experience is a subjective experience. When you’ve grown up and spiritually glowed up, your perspectives on things will be super valuable to this often desperately-in-love society~

Oracle Guidance for Air Signs🔻💙

👯Gemini – Priestess of Good Fortune

⚖️Libra – Priestess of Ritual

🏺Aquarius – Priestess of Faith

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Healthy Love for 🐝Water Signs – Green Astronomer (Nicolaus Copernicus)

8 of Swords Rx, Knight of Wands, 4 of Swords Rx

Oh gosh, respect, freedom, just this feeling of actually being free and still safe in the arms of someone you love—isn’t this the ideal for Water Signs? Water Signs are all about feelings and empathy, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have your own identity outside of the relationship you’ve devoted yourself to. And for the most part, and maybe you’re not always honest about this, you don’t like being restricted or suffocated in a relationship. Yup, not even the Scorpios. But you like doing this to the other person, which is a really unhealthy and unfair XD

You don’t own a person. You can’t expect that. You shouldn’t even expect to be owned by your significant other. That’s actually a really big soul lesson for all Water placements. Possessions, obsessions, you think only Earth Signs struggle with these? Water is the opposite of Earth, so~ When Water Signs attempt to own a person, you want to own their soul, heart and mind; whereas Earth Signs want to own and control the person. Passion isn’t possession, OK? If you must share a passion, let it be one of Love and Respect <3

And ultimately, I hope you take very seriously your own spiritual healing so that you know how to be a sane lover. Of all the Elements, Water is actually the most psycho of all lovers LMAO You tend to use your intuitive empathetic ability to trick and manipulate emotionally, that’s why. If you must be addicted to anything at all, well, I hope you become addicted to the feeling of being safe, respected, nurtured and nourished by a someone whose heart reflects back all that’s good in you~

Oracle Guidance for Water Signs🔻💛

🦀Cancer – Priestess of Innocence

🦂Scorpio – Priestess of Healing

🎏Pisces – Priestess of Inspiration

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAG Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[cal-writes]

been in a immorcation (immortal/reincarnation au) mood recently. i dont know if i shared this before actually but either way enjoy some law being a mess

-

Zoro is lightning fast, within one moment and the next he is crouching in front of Law, his one eye as intense as laser. Law presses back against the wall and suddenly becomes aware of the intense burning pain in his arm. He looks down to see his sleeve soaking with blood.

“Oh shit.” He says, wanting to lift his arm only to have the stabbing pain race through his entire body. Zoro’s hand grabs his wrist and holds him still as the other rips into the hole in his sleeve. “Hey! Ow fuck.” He protests before he sees the wound. “I got shot.” 

Zoro tilts his head to the side. “Just a little. Hold still.” He says, reaching over Law’s head for a dish towel to press against the wound. The rough fabric burns against the ripped flash and Law flinches despite himself.

Zoro wipes the blood off and Law dares a glance. “Oh thats so much worse when it’s yourself.” He mutters and Zoro snorts before he stands. “I need stitches.” 

“I know.” Zoro tells him as he moves about the tiny kitchen area of his boat, flicking on a kettle. 

“Please tell me you have a first aid kit.” Law says, letting his head fall against the wall.

“Why would I have a first aid kit?” Zoro asks as he rummages around a cupboard and unearths a sewing kit.

Law whines miserably. “How did this happen?”

“Police shot at me. Ricochet probably hit you.” Zoro explains and pulls a face. “Stupid guns get faster every year and I’m out of practise.” He says like its a completely normal sentence to say.

Law laughs weakly. “You deflected gunfire with swords that’s still pretty impressive. Didn’t know that was possible.” Zoro makes a dismissive noise, pours the boiling water from the kettle into a pot on the stove to keep it cooking and Law closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see him desinfect a sewing needle in boiling water. 

“At least it was a small caliber. Older bullets would have broken your arm.” Zoro says.

“Speaking from experience?” Law blinks and sees Zoro stick his entire arm into the hot water.

“Yeah.” Zoro’s arm is coated in black when he takes it out of the water, needle and thread pinched between his fingers and a dripping steaming towel in the other.

Law gapes. “Your arm-“ He starts to say as the black reteats from Zoro’s arm, leaving only his hands and the needle covered in it. “Is that also part of the immortality thing?” He asks as Zoro crouches back down.

“No, that’s armament haki.” He says and presses the hot towel against Law’s wound. Las inhales sharply through his teeth, legs kicking out without his control but Zoro’s grip is firm. “It makes my skin harder and whatever I am pouring energy into. It’ll make the needle sharper.” He explains and if Law weren’t bleeding right now he would make fun of that concept.

“You- you said that before. Haki. In my apartment.” He says to think about anything else but the pain and the fact that he got fucking shot. 

“That was a different kind.”

“How many are there?”

“Three.”

“Armament and what was the one you used back then?”

“Haki that makes you pass out.” 

Law takes a moment to give Zoro a glance. “Really?”

Zoro just hums, focused on sewing Law’s skin back together. 

“Who came up with that name?”

“Dunno, never asked.”

“I could come up with a better name.”

“You do that.” Zoro says, looking at him and grabbing a pair of scissors to snap the end of the thread. And Law realizes he’s already done sewing the wound.

“You’re fast.” He says, looking down to examine the work. Five neat and even stitches stand out starkly against his skin. “And good.” Law admits. It took him two years of med school to sew skin that neatly.

Zoro presses the burning towel back against the skin making Law hiss in pain. “I had practice. Mostly on clothing though.” He says and rips apart what appears to be white sheets.

“Really?” Law asks with a whine as Zoro uses the scraps to wrap his arm.

“We’re heading somewhere I can pick up some supplies. Calm down.” He tells him and Law scoffs.

“I think I am remarkably calm considering the circumstances.” He says.

Zoro blows out a breath from his nose. “True,” He admits. “Are you going to pass out?” He asks, looking at Law with faint amusement.

Law squints. Everything feels swimmy as the adrenaline fades. “Are you using the makes-you-pass-out haki?”

“No, do you want me to?”

“No, I think I have it covered actually.” 

“I’ll wake you when we get to land.”

[dinitride-art]

“Mike wheeler’s armpit of a basement”

“I’ve seen Mike’s room look worse than this”

“I was being a total self pitying idiot”

“Why am I the bad guy”

“One day she’s going to realize that I’m just some random nerd”

“At least Lois Lane is an ace reporter for the Daily Planet”

“I’ve been bullied my whole life”

“Mike’s always whining about it”

“And yet you still have a C in Spanish”

“You can’t even write it Mike”

“You made it super clear that you’re not interested in anything I have to say”

“-and if I said that thing then maybe she’d want me there with her, wherever she is”

“The bad government dudes are after your super-girlfriend right? Right?! Okay, so, maybe the cops can help us find out where she is because they’re gonna kill her, man. And if they kill her, there gonna kill us!”

“Oh, no, no, no, no- it’s a shitty knock off, yeah”

“Who’s that twig with her?”

“That doesn’t mean he’s wrong. I mean, if that guy would’ve lived one more second- one more second- th- we could know where she is. Wh-why didn’t he just say the number? I-I should’ve explained myself, cuz then maybe, Eleven would’ve taken me with her and things would be different but I-I didn’t know what to say”

“And I feel like maybe I-I was worrying too much about El, and I don’t know, maybe I feel like I lost you or something”

“Y’know the last few days, I’ve had to think about the last talk we had. You know, before the cops and the whole word went to shit and everything? I- I guess- I just- I- I dunno- I guess I just wanted to- to say-”

“But… but what if after all of this is over… sh-she doesn’t need me anymore?”

“No I… it’s so stupid, given everything that’s going on. It’s just… I… I don’t know. I just”

“I, love you.”

Mike’s flopping on the floor like a miserable and suffocating fish out of water season. His friends make fun of him. Eddie made fun of his clothes. Karen told Dustin he’s welcome at the Wheeler’s anytime which implies that Mike isn’t really talking to his friends outside of school. Dustin and Mike didn’t know when Lucas’ basketball game was, which implies that they haven’t really been talking to Lucas a lot. Mike did call the Byers but wasn’t able to get through. El and Will are have been in Lenora for months and Mike hasn’t really been able to talk to either of them. El’s been lying to him in her letters and writing and signing letters is a reminder that he’s avoiding writing the word love. Everyone’s telling him that he’s doing something wrong. This kids going through it.

[frozenjokes]

The Death Maze (With The Puzzles And Autistic People)

Given the remote location Tango had set up a base for this operation, no one really expected visitors. Especially not during the day; not that it would be much different than at night, but there was just something disarming about eating lunch with the dungeon master and the guy who refused to leave the dungeon; literally refused- Etho had started buying groceries. Tango didn’t buy the right bread apparently, and yes, it was a big deal, Etho couldn’t make his sandwich if he didn’t have the right bread, Tango, and if you won’t do it right I’ll do it myself!

Jimmy didn’t have much skin in the game. He was just happy to get a free lunch out of the deal, really. It was a good sandwich.

But again, visitors were a surprise. Honestly, Tango hadn’t even caused enough of a ruckus for police to show up yet; Jimmy was pretty sure he hadn’t even gotten on the news. If Jimmy thought too much about that he might start spiraling about the miserable state of the world, however, someone had to get the door; Tango looked busy with something on his phone, and Etho didn’t look like he was moving any time soon.

The entrance to the dungeon castle was a grand, sprawling thing, the door just as imposing, but opening the whole gate was quite the hassle, so Jimmy stuck with the smaller cutout instead, which the three of them used for casual comings and goings. Still heavy, but far more manageable.

Now, Jimmy didn’t have any sort of expectation here; the doorbell ringing hadn’t been insistent or aggressive or anything, but he wasn’t expecting just.. a guy. Just standing there. Quite a normal looking guy too, hardly remarkable at all in a world of superheroes at least. Was he human? He looked human. What was a human doing here of all places? Did he think this was some kind of tourist attraction? How did he even find this place?

“Hello,” the man said, cordial, almost professional; he had this cold neutrality to him that felt akin to an inspector of sorts, and just by looking at the outside of the building, the stranger could tell Decked Out was not up to code. The quiet confidence alone made Jimmy quite nervous, though the stranger took his time speaking as he observed the intricate decoration, only serving to worsen Jimmy’s anxiety. “Is this where I can find the maze? The death maze, the one with the puzzles and autistic people.

“Uh,” Jimmy felt his mouth drop open, entirely unsure how to respond. Was this guy some kind of superhero? He didn’t look like a superhero. Jimmy wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone who looked so normal- goodness, surely he didn’t want to run the game! Jimmy wasn’t sure if Tango could handle another Etho. Not to mention, this guy didn’t look to be the athletic sort.. if he was a civilian, he’d probably get hurt. Not that either of those things ever stopped Etho. “Yes, but-“

“Oh, great,” the stranger ducked through the door, Jimmy startling as he invited himself inside, “I’ve decided I need some new friends, and this seemed like a golden opportunity. Not that I’m used to going out of my way, but I’ve come to realize I can’t just stagnate forever. It’s time to take some initiative, or something. I dunno. I like puzzles.” He stopped, taking a moment before clearing his throat, “You know HotGuy, right? Do me a huge favor and don’t tell him I was here.”

“You.. know HotGuy.”

“I know him.” The man started walking, and Jimmy was helpless to do anything except follow.

“He told you about Decked Out?”

“Told me all about it. Didn’t know the name though, just about the whole fiasco..” he trailed off with a vague gesture, “Seems like they didn’t play the game right, but it sounded interesting.”

“And he doesn’t want you here?”

“I mean, I imagine he wouldn’t.”

“How did you find us then?”

“Oh, I just asked for the address. Said I was curious, you know, since I thought more people would have heard of it by now. It’s pretty out of the way, but I took a few days off work.”

“And-“ Jimmy couldn’t help his own stunted speech, more and more baffled by the minute, “He didn’t-? What? Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Cub. Sorry. Should have said so,” Cub continued on with the confidence of someone who’d been here a thousand times, walking entirely in the wrong direction, though that didn’t seem to bother him one bit. His eyes were on the ceilings and the walls, curious.

“No- I mean, a superhero. Are you working with heroes?”

“Technically, yes, if retail is what you mean. But I’m not on the streets, no, that’s not my jam. You’re Jimmy, right? The avian. There’s a blaze born here too, right? He’s called Tango? HotGuy told me he was unpleasant and a little pathetic, but I think HotGuy and a friend fall under the same description, so I thought this might work out.

“You mean Tango? Wait a minute-“ Jimmy hopped forward with a couple awkward flaps of his wings to block Cub’s path, though his expression didn’t change, considering Jimmy evenly, “If you’re just a civilian, you shouldn’t be here. Seriously, you could really get hurt. Tango isn’t the pinnacle of morality or anything, so you’ll probably get thrown in Decked Out if he finds you here.”

“Oh! I would like to do that. Where can I find Tango?”

“Jimmy?” Tango’s call lit the hall, confusion clear as it bounced off the walls, “Is everything alright? Who was it? Anyone seeking revenge? Where’d you go?” Jimmy didn’t get to speak before Tango’s round eyes turned their way, hair and arms sparking in his surprise. “Who’s this?”

“Uh-“

Cub turned before Jimmy could come up with an excuse, the first sign of excitement showing on his face as he spoke, “You must be Tango. I’m Cub, great to meet you. I’d like to try your maze? Is it open?”

“Decked Out? You want to play?” Tango lit up, figuratively and literally, “Jimmy, who is this guy?”

“Not a superhero, Tango-“

“I was referred by a friend,” Cub slipped the words behind Jimmy’s, happily walking toward Tango.

“You were not referred! Tango, HotGuy is going to come looking for this guy, you don’t want that, do you?”

Tango blanched before his face flushed, head and arms sparking to life wilder than they had before. “HotGuy!? No! Get this guy out of here!”

Cub shot Jimmy a withering glare, but any hint of concern melted away when he closed his eyes, turning back to Tango with a practiced neutrality, “HotGuy does what I tell him. I’m not missing, and he’s not looking for me. You have nothing to worry about.”

Tango stomped his foot, flame flying from the soles, “He broke my game!”

Cub shrugged, “I’m only human. Couldn’t break anything if I tried. I just want to play. Get to know the people here, that’s all.”

“Are you a cop?”

That shut him up, the silence deep and incriminating.

Finally, Cub huffed, “No. Fine. Whatever.” He stopped in his tracks, swiveling back toward the exit, and just- just- leaving? He genuinely looked kind of upset, though Jimmy was too baffled by the sudden exit to say much else.

Jimmy.. didn’t get the sense he was a cop, even despite the odd retreat; too weird in the wrong ways, too blunt. HotGuy never liked law enforcement either; whenever he and Jimmy sat down to chat, the topic came up at least once, always to complain about incompetence or corruption or otherwise (not that the superhero business was any better, but Jimmy wasn’t about to say that to HotGuy’s face). It’d feel like an odd turnaround. Tango was similarly confused, but not nearly as bothered, only shrugging once the stranger disappeared through the front door.

“Take care of that, will you?”

Jimmy blinked, turning, “What? Take care of what?”

“Make sure he’s gone,” Tango said, the look on his face pleading, counteracting the facade of authority he attempted to push into his tone.

Jimmy scoffed, waving him off with a smile, “I don’t think that’s in my job description.”

“Please? Please?” Tango stood on his tiptoes, and while Jimmy knew the fire off Tango’s arms wouldn’t hurt him, he still flinched away on instinct, masking the gesture with a scoff. Somehow, this only made Tango more desperate. “We’re friends, aren’t we? You’ll make the bad cop go away, won’t you?”

“I don’t think he’s a cop. If he’s a friend of HotGuy, he’s probably just a bit off his rocker.”

Tango snorted, “Aren’t you a friend of HotGuy? You told me you had lunch plans on Sunday!”

“Yeah, I guess so. And I get kidnapped for a living, so while I’m flattered, your opinion of me might be a bit warped. What, do you also think Etho is normal?”

Tango’s flames burst upward for a moment, flecks of fire spiraling off in small wisps, “Etho’s a total freak, not like you. Have you heard him talk about sandwiches? Normal people don’t have that many opinions about sandwiches. You’re great, and my friend, so you’re gonna tell that stranger to get off my lawn for me, yeah? Yeah? Please?”

“Fine.” Jimmy made a scene of his distaste with a loud sigh, but he didn’t really mind all that much, only pushing back for the sake of it. He wasn’t a connoisseur of confrontation or anything, but Cub had left in a huff, so Jimmy really didn’t expect him to be sticking around.

This turned out to be an incorrect assumption.

Jimmy approached the unfamiliar car outside cautiously, though it wasn’t running, Jimmy only able to see the top of Cub’s head as he was hunched over in the driver’s seat. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do or say; he tried to wave and get the stranger’s attention from afar, but Cub’s forehead was firmly plastered to the steering wheel, eyebrows furrowed and miserable looking. Jimmy wondered if he should leave? He didn’t really want to be here, friend of Tango’s or not; technically they weren’t even friends, Jimmy was just here out of contractual obligation. Still, Jimmy liked to keep a good relationship with his clients. Villains were the volatile sort, he knew that well. Doing a little favor like this wasn’t too much trouble, and Tango seemed like the kind of guy that would remember it.

Jimmy took a deep breath, but didn’t quite have the nerve to speak, so he approached the car instead, gently knocking on the window.

Cub startled, the car horn honking as he hit his head before jumping up. The surprise didn’t last long though, his frown returning deeper than before. He stared at Jimmy for a long time, eyes shrewd behind his glasses, then abruptly, let his head hit the steering wheel again, uncaring. Well. Guess Jimmy was going to have to be the one to talk first. Not that Cub rolled the window down. He knocked again for good measure, but Cub made no move to acknowledge him.

“Uh, sir, this is private property? You can’t be here. Please leave,” Jimmy tried to raise some authority into his tone, though this was a talent both he and Tango lacked. Cub was unfazed.

The stranger grunted, though the sound was muffled through the window, “What are you going to do? Call the cops? Throw me in your maze?” Jimmy hesitated for far too long and Cub huffed, not moving. Well this wouldn’t do. Surely this guy wasn’t just going to sit here forever, but still, Jimmy didn’t exactly want to go back inside while he was still around.

“Listen, I’m sorry this didn’t go your way today, but you really shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what you heard about Decked Out, but beyond the safety issue, I don’t think you have the right idea about the game. There’s no puzzles, not really, and honestly it’s not about being a maze, either. I’m sure HotGuy only got that impression because it was his first time down there, half of which he spent getting dragged around upside down by ravagers. There’s strategy, sure, but again, ravagers. You’re just a human, right? You could get really hurt. I’ve been hurt.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Cub mumbled, the words so obscured that Jimmy barely heard them, “This was really dumb. This was really stupid, coming here, I don’t even know what I thought I.. I don’t know. My head got the better of me. I’ll leave, I’ll go soon, I just need a minute to stew.”

Jimmy pursed his lips.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, then.” Jimmy cursed inwardly for sounding so stupid, then frowned, biting his lip. This was taken care of. He should just go, watch from the doorstep, and make sure Cub left like he said he would. Jimmy sure would like to walk away, but his damn bleeding heart was keeping him rooted on the concrete, making note of how sad and defeated the poor man in the car looked, and before he could stop himself, he was already speaking, “I understand. Take all the time you need, but if you want to talk.. I mean, I’m not on the clock or anything. Why’d you trek all the way out here?”

…

Grian’s head snapped up when he heard the front door click unlocked, not that he was waiting for anyone or anything, but he certainly hadn’t been wearing headphones since Cub texted that he was on his way home. Which. Probably not necessary, given it had been six hours since then, but hey.

“I’m home,” Cub announced himself, and Grian heard the keys of the car he’d rented for his ‘getaway’ click into the keybowl by the front door. Grian nearly fell out of bed as he made for the common area, but forced a deep breath before exiting his room. Calm. Collected. Normal. All of that went out the window when Grian opened his door and spotted the bright pink cast across Cub’s left arm.

“Cub? What happened? You’re hurt, why didn’t you call me? Were you in the hospital? You didn’t say anything! Is it broken? You didn’t call me-“

“Hush,” Cub waved him off, though the effect was lost a little with the stiffness of his cast, “I had a great getaway, thank you for asking.”

“You broke your arm!”

“Of my own volition.”

“What-“ Grian sputtered, “What does that mean!?” For the first time, Grian’s eyes were drawn elsewhere besides just the cast. Cub’s chin, which looked bruised, the way he was favoring one leg when he usually shifted his weight idly; it wasn’t odd for Cub to wear baggy clothes either, but Grian was starting to feel like the decision for today was deliberate.

“It’s a secret,” Cub said the words so simply, so casually that Grian almost missed them. Cub looked more than content to leave it at that, walking with some urgency toward his room, and he was definitely limping-

“Cub!” Grian reached to grab his arm, block his way, anything, but Cub was stubbornly determined to push by.

“I made some new friends,” he said, and if that was meant to be an explanation, it was terrifying. But he sounded happy, didn’t he? Maybe Grian hesitated then, and Cub took full advantage, stepping quickly by and slipping into his room, the door shutting and clicking locked behind him. Grian squawked, having half a mind to pummel the door with his fists and demand and explanation, but.. Well. When Cub wanted to hide something, he didn’t give easily. Half the time, he didn’t give at all.

Grian stomped his foot, if for no other reason than the energy needed somewhere to go. Cub could be so infuriating sometimes. Grian should have known something was off when Cub announced an impromptu solo vacation! Cub never wanted to go anywhere!

Grian was so telling Scar on him..

[plantcrazy]

My messy pen sketch of an idea failed miserable last night. I ended up with a full-blown illustration instead ^^;

I was playing with the idea of these two having like a heart-to-heart, sort of thing like...

"GET OFF!" Carol snapped, pulling Ahnoldt's hand off of her arm. "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM! I WAS JUST GETTING SOME FRESH AIR!"

"Fresh air?" The Right Hand repeated in disbelief.

"Sure. Don't you come out here to clear your head?"

Ahnoldt looked over the edge of the railing and shook his head.

Carol looked over the railing herself. "O-oh."

She took a step back.

Ahnoldt sighed, "Vell, I von't make you go in, but I vould prefer you at least not by the railings, in case ve hit turbulence or something." He then laughed, "I don't think Clouddale vill find it funny, if ve both decided to try skydiving vithout a parachute!"

Ahnoldt sat down on the steps, taking the railing side, and patted steps to his left, for Carol to join him.

She smiled softly, wiping at her face, and joined him on the steps.

Ahnodlt studied her for a moment, then titled his head and asked, "Vhat's that face mean?"

"You never change." Carol smiled brighter, "You're always you: so positive and cheerful, no matter what happens, you've always got your infectious smile and bad humour!"

Ahnoldt's smile slipped.

"Ah." He said. "Everyone thinks that, but I guess that's the point."

"I vasn't chosen to be Right Hand because I'm the strongest, or smartest, or had some overpowered ability. Vhen Sven overthrough Terrence to become leader, the Clan vas in a rough state. The clan vas in tatters, moral non-existent, and ve vere on the verge of disbanding. Terrence, hehe, he vent out vith a BANG and took most of the clan vith him, leaving the rest of us for the CCC and Vall to pick off."

"I don't know how much you know about me, but I've never liked sad faces. So I vas doing everything I could to keep up this... façade that everyone vas going to be okay, and there vas hope. That's vhy I vas chosen to be the Toppat Clan's Right Hand. Because Sven saw I could give the clan the hope they needed to not give up."

He shook his head softly and sighed, "I've been keeping up this act for so long... it, it doesn't feel real any more, I... sometime I vorry one day I'll vake up and not remember vhat real happiness feels like."

Ahnoldt's eyes snapped up, "Ah- That vas a bit dark. Hehe, um... I forgot vhere I vas going vith this! OH! RIGHT!" Ahnoldt exclaimed. "If you need a friend or someone to talk to, come find me! And maybe before you come out here? You're lucky I vas sent. Normally it's Double Shot's job, but err he's still on reduced hours. I dunno vhat you, and your friends did, but you really shook him up. I didn't think that vas possible any more!"

"Ahnoldt."

Carol said. "A friend of mine used to always tell me 'we're in this together' so, if you need someone to talk to, let me know, okay? You don't have to carry all of this yourself."

Ahnoldt looked to the ground, then back, his smiled brighter than before.

"Dankeschön"

- - -

(Writing time: 2 hours - Beta read: None - Idea generated: Last night while making hot chocolate :P)

[eeeeuuughggg]

the whole confession thing

anon: “ LET ME BE UR FIRST ANON😜 ill be 🎸 but anyways i loved ur larry general headcanons, i would love to see some headcanons of how you think he would confess his feelings, im a sucker for confessions🤭 ”

notes: THANK YEWWW omg i needed something to get me back into writing ur a saviour (i forgot to make it headcanons OOPS)

w/c: 478

warnings: none

You and Larry were sitting outside 7-Eleven, slurpees in hand and your backs uncomfortably pressed against the brick wall. He's listening to you a lot more than he normally seems to be, because it feels like you're the only one that's really talking— and that's unusual. You wanna know why? Larry never shuts up when he's with you.

You turn to look at him, and that makes things a bit weird because he was already looking at you. He turns his head away and you sigh, brows furrowed in confusion. “Are you alright, dude?” There's silence for a second, and then he looks back over at you.

“Yeah, man, 'm good. Jus' chillin.” He hums in reply, trying to play it cool, and failing fucking miserably, which he usually does.

“..Alright, I'm just checking.” You murmur, staring at him for a second longer. Pausing, you add, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Larry swallows. “Yeah,”

“I've just been thinking, lately. Like, a lot.” Trying to lighten the awkward situation you've gotten yourself into, you smile and poke fun at him. “You don't think a lot, do ya?”

“Shut up, man. I'm serious.” He groans, looking away yet again and down at his drink, focusing on anything but you.

“Do you really mean it, dude? Like, do you mean it when you say I can tell you anything? 'Cause, like, I don't want you to hate me, man. I couldn't handle that shit.”

“I mean it, Larry. Promise.” You're anxious, wondering about what he's going to say. Usually you can guess what's going to happen with him; you practically know him like the back of your hand, he's your best friend, right?

Nothing more, nothing less.. right? Right? Right. You reassure yourself that you're just setting yourself up to be hurt and zone back in just in time to listen to him.

“Look, man,” He turns to you, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I don't wanna ruin our friendship, 'kay? 'Cause you're like, fucking sick, y'know? It's just, like, lately, I feel like I don't want you to be just my friend. Do you know what I mean?”

Before you can answer, he cuts you off. “And if you don't like me like that, then that's totally cool, man, I understand. I just need to tell you how I feel in case you feel the same. I don't want it to be like, 'what could have been?', do you feel me?”

Beginning to start another mini-monologue, you cut him off. “I feel the same way.” Simple and short, and enough to shut Larry up. “You do?” He asks, looking at you almost dumbfounded. “Do you want to, like, do anything with that? It'd be awesome if we could, I dunno, maybe go out sometime. If you're cool with that.”

“I'm cool with that.” You smile.

“Sweet.”

[spiderfunkz]

hii! i was wondering if you could write something about robin buckley choosing reader to go to europe with her for the summer! (maybe a rebel robin au??) ive never seen anyone write anything about it and id think id be cute!

✧.* operation crossaint!

— summary : summer in hawkins is boring. so, how about a trip to europe?

— pairings : robin buckley x fem!reader

— word count : 0,9k

— warnings : fluff, friends to lovers, oblivious reader kinda, messy plot whoops, foul language, kissing mwah mwah, weird time jumps, not proofread, this is set in the summer btw!! robin & reader is 18 here.

a/n : hi there! thank u for the request anon ^_^ i tried fitting some aspects and references from rebel robin because i couldn't really fit in the whole au and storyline of rebel robin because i don't think it'll fit that well, so sorry about that!!

"operation crossaint?" you question as robin nodded. "just hear me out. i want to live outside of hawkins y/n. i want to know whats outside of this shitty town," she explains.

"it's sounds weird i know but, i want to learn and experience things." she continues.

"so like europe?" you ask, "yes! exactly like europe. i want to travel, meet people who live exactly how they want to, i want to see beautiful museums, and walk down old streets!" she rambles.

you nodded listening to everything she says. "and live off of crossaints and cheese?" you laugh — "mhm!" she nodded.

"i told mr hauser about it and, he told me to take someone with me, and he suggested milton or dash but i was thinking-" she paused, "that maybe you could go with me?" she asks, scrunching her nose.

"or don't, i understand that maybe you have something going on or maybe you focusing on othe-"

"i'll go with you." you stated. "but we literally have 0 dollars and, have you asked your parents?" you ask.

"we can work on that! mr hauser said that he could help talk to my parents which automatically means that he could talk to yours so-" she rambles, "all he said is that if i find someone to take with he could help me. and you said yes."

"yeah well of course, i mean spending any time at all with you and in europe? that sounds like an absolute dream." you smiled.

robin's cheeks grew pink as you stated that. europe? with you? together? is she dreaming right now?

"i'll go work things out, i'll see you tomorrow y/n." she waved.

you were so caught up with the conversation you don't realize you were outside your house now as robin skipped away.

—

robin could barely sleep that night, was she really going to spend her time in europe with you?

god, she was so excited to tell mr hauser all about it. she had already started learning languages she thought might be important for the trip, like french or their culture and stuff.

she is so excited to spend time with you, especially outside of hawkins. the walks you could go with her, the food you get to taste together, the memories she could make.

"jesus, get yourself together buckley." robin sighed, her thoughts haunting her as she slowly falls asleep.

—

you sat down the bus, going home from another miserable day at hawkins high. flipping through the pages of your book, you see robin hoping on, almost missing the bus.

she ignores the taunts of some of the older kids before spotting you and sitting next to you.

"dunno whats their problem," you look back at the older teens mocking robin — "their probably failing another year anyways." you stated, voice a bit louder. "i hope they fall off of the bus." she sighed.

it's been a few weeks since robin told you about 'operation crossaint' and you two just got back from thanksgiving break.

"so, how was your break?" you ask. "amazing actually, i got a job, and i think i can finally afford tickets for two people to go to europe!" she smiles.

"really? that's great! i saved up a bit and i think we can manage. plus, you know extra money for gifts and stuff." you added.

robin was so beyond excited that you stuck by her, the last few weeks everything had been going the total opposite for her, yet you were still there for her in every moment.

"i also bought a camera recently, and we could bring that to our trip. you know? for memories and stuff, so they last forever." you say as robin nodded, smiling wider than ever.

—

and here you are now!

the past weeks is the probably the best few weeks ever. europe, with robin, together.

you two finally get to experience the europe dream, going to museums, eating in fancy cafes, going on trips on a boat, and just living a life outside of hawkins.

you've been carrying your camera around everywhere, documenting your summer with your person.

and for robin, the past few weeks was somewhat of an awakening for her. she finally could understand herself with the help from you and everything around her.

she now understands why she's been feeling a certain way around certain people, especially you. like butterflies fluttering in her stomach, and how her heart feels like its going to explode.

and that brings you here, on a random hill surrounded by pretty flowers and bright stars above.

"heres one where we were at the fair, the ferris wheel looked so pretty here." you showed robin the pictures you've been taking along the trip.

"oh! and these are some cats near by the water, remember? the ones i told you. gosh, they're just so cute." you smile.

you didn't notice how quiet robin was, you could feel her smile but she hasn't said anything.

you look up and notice that she wasn't looking at your camera like you had been doing. she was looking at you.

"what? do i have something on my face?" you questioned.

in robin's defense, you're really pretty. cherry stained lips, gorgeous hair that just falls in place so perfectly, and the prettiest eyes.

"it's not nice to stare buckley." you chuckle, "you're too pretty not too." she replied.

the tension grew as the moon shined, perfectly reflecting robin's freckles.

she moved closer to you, the smell of your perfume overwhelming her.

she kissed you.

you kissed her.

robin pulled away, realizing what she just did, what you just did. your cherry stained lips now staining her.

"i'm sorry i should've-" robin got cut off, your lips connected to hers again. "don't apologize robs." you say, tucking her hair.

"i like you, like, like like you." robin stated — "i like like you too." you replied.

[hannahssimblr]

Not coming anymore

Jen’s text message comes in when I’ve already left the house, and I groan as I pull my phone out to see it on the screen. 

Are you serious? I’ve already left the house, you have no idea wh-

I delete the message and phone her instead. She picks up after one ring. 

“Jen, seriously?” 

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“What the hell? My mom was going out again tonight and I had to sort a babysitter for Ivy. It took me an hour, and now I've already showered and changed my clothes. I'm on the way to the beach, are you seriously telling me I have to turn back and undo everything I've just done?”

A pause, “No, you can go. I just can’t.”

“Wh-” I fling my arm up and sigh. She can’t expect me to hang out with the emos without her. What if they get peckish and start eating me? 

“Michelle isn’t allowed to go, so she doesn’t want me to go either.” 

“Oh I see, so Michelle just asked at the last minute. And was shocked and appalled that she’s not allowed? How stupid is that, my god, she isn’t allowed to do anything. Why would she think her parents would let her do this without advanced permission seventy-two hours in advance?”

“Hey! Stop ranting at me! It’s not my fault! I told her I was going to go out anyway and she gave out to me and now we’re mad at each other, okay?” 

“She’s miserable so she needs you to be miserable too?”

“Yeah, apparently.”

I scoff, “that makes no sense.”

“Yeah well a lot of things don’t make sense in Michelle’s world.”

I sigh and turn to face the sea. The sun has only begun to set and toss colour over the clouds. It’s a nice evening, the kind that makes you guilty about staying in, and so my annoyance at Jen morphs quickly into annoyance on her behalf. “Can’t you just come anyway?”

“No, I’m too upset now.”

“Jen…”

“You should go. I already told Evan you were going to meet him there, and you could probably use the fresh air and conversation… I can’t bear to think about you stuck in your room drawing your own fucking toes on an evening like this.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll still go.”

“Good, I’ll talk to you later, and you can tell me all about what happened.”

“I’ll come over, yeah?” 

“If it’s not too late.”

“Bye, Jen.” 

“Yep.”

Speaking of Evan, I spot him up ahead, dashing over the grassy bank towards the path with his dirty old school bag bobbing on his back. I call out to him but he doesn’t hear me, so stuffing my phone back into my pocket I begin an easy jog toward him.

“Evan,” I do a half jump onto his shoulders and he almost dies with fright, his knees practically going from under him, and twists around combatively to realise it’s only me. 

“Fuck,” he wheezes, “Fuck sake!” He yanks his earbuds out, pulsing with the tinny beats of some pop punk song , “You fucking scared me!” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I need to stop doing that, it’s just a habit.”

“Yeah, God.” He combs fingers through his floppy fringe and sets it in place in a gesture, habitual and a bit compulsive, that he repeats constantly.

I fall into step with him once he has gathered himself and I smirk, “Why are you so jumpy, Evan?”

“I dunno.”

“What do you think I’m going to do to you?” 

“Nothing, I just… This is how I am. I don’t like it when people sneak up on me, it makes me nervous.”

“C’mon, it’s either that you’re afraid of getting beaten up or you’re afraid of getting caught doing something you shouldn’t, that’s what I think.”

“Wow, aren’t you full of theories?”

I laugh, “And related to all this, what’s in your locker, Evan? What are you always guarding it for?”

The corner of his mouth ticks up as he glances at me, “My locker? Do you really want to know?”

It's not like I care that much, because honestly, how exciting can it really be? It's the locker of a seventeen year old boy, so it probably contains a mouldy lunchbox and the crumpled remains of last month's chemistry assignment, but Evan seems pleased that I've asked him about it. I feign interest for his sake.

“Well, yeah, of course I do.”

He swings his bag off his back and fumbles through the front pocket. It’s got a huge ink stain on it and the zip has broken, so it’s just hanging wide open, “I’m showing you because I know you probably won’t tell anyone, you know, seeing as you don’t really have friends anymore.”

“Harsh,” I say, but not untrue. Even since the cowards from rugby took Fitzy’s side in our tussle over Alison’s nudes my lunchtime calendar has looked a lot emptier than it used to. Where there used to be banter at the picnic benches there is now... decidedly nothing at all, save, maybe, for a few unimpressed glances my way, an accidental or not-so-accidental shove against my shoulder in the hallway. Maybe my absorption in art is related to this somehow, but I haven’t been in the headspace to psychoanalyse myself that much lately. My mind is so full of values, tone, shape, and line quality that it has (blissfully) no room for other, less interesting things...

But, as it appears, this is interesting.

Evan pulls out a bag of pills, about twenty, all blue with little batman symbols on them, then digs his hand back in for another, this time filled with green buds.

I look at him and say simply, “You’re a drug dealer.”

“Yeah, man.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yeah, I've been at it a while now, I think I have a pretty good business going with it and all... So if you’re ever looking for something, you know…”

“You sell to Alison.”

“Uh huh,” He stuffs the baggies back into the front pocket after a rather over the top glance around him, like he thinks this empty street is suddenly going to burst to life with guards and sirens coming to hunt him down, throw him in handcuffs with a boot against the back of his neck and toss him in Mountjoy prison, like there are no criminals wanted more in Dublin city than Evan Henley and his fifty bag of weed. “She comes to me from time to time, not lately though.”

“Yeah,” I cough out a laugh, “I took your molly a few months ago. It was shit.”

He shrugs, “I get what I can get, not my fault.”

“Hm.”

“You could go to someone else, you know, but there actually isn't anyone else in our school, is there? I have a monopoly.”

“Fair.”

“You won’t like, tell Michelle or anything though, will you?”

I stare at him incredulously, “Michelle doesn’t know?”

“No, she hates all this stuff, like, she’s really strict about all drugs and shit and I just know she'll blow up at me and start shouting and roaring if she knew about it. I’d just rather not deal with it.”

I pause to consider this. It probably isn’t any real harm keeping this from her, is it? It’s not like she needs to know, and realistically if she did she would only freak out and and tell Jen, and then if Jen knew that someone close to her was in possession of any of this stuff she might-

“Yeah, no worries, I won’t tell her.”

He pats my shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie, so I guess we're real buddies now, “Ah, thanks Jude. Had a feeling I could trust you with this stuff.”

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