#math prns

[custards-neopronouns]

hey do you think you could do some math themed pronouns? thanks so much!!

Absolutely! Hope you like these :]

#️⃣➗ Math Themed Pronouns (Very Big List!)

math/math/maths/mathself

num/number/numbers/numberself

x/y/xs/ys/xyself

algebra/algebra/algebras/algebraself

var/variable/vars/variableself

coord/coordinate/coords/coordinateself

graph/graph/graphs/graphself

equal/equation/equals/equationself

form/formula/forms/formulaself

function/function/functions/functionself

theory/theorem/theorys/theoremself

int/integer/integers/integerself

negative/negative/negatives/negativeself

positive/positive/positives/positiveself

sum/sum/sums/sumself

product/product/products/productself

quo/quotient/quotients/quotientself

div/divide/divs/divisionself

add/addition/adds/additionself

tract/subtract/subtracts/subtractself

multiple/multiply/multiples/multiplyself

fraction/fraction/fractions/fractionself

fact/factor/factors/factorself

geo/geometry/geos/geometryself

angle/angle/angles/angleself

par/parallel/pars/parallelself

nome/polynomial/nomes/polynomialself

sin/sin/sins/sinself

cos/cos/cos's/coself

tan/tan/tans/tanself

[angeltism]

universe : hey can I give uu another guy (gender neu) in uur brain

me : to help me function better by giving me somebun who likes work/chores/etc or another protector or soother ?

universe : yeeees

universe :

[lucasdeocampo]

😂😂😭😭

[yisanged]

i’m watching extraordinary detective woo or what ever it’s called. we love autism

[macgyvermedical]

Drug Orders and Doses

@whumpsmith

Cool, so I think the first thing to know is how medication is ordered.

Generally speaking, it will be ordered in 5 parts, known as the "5 Rights" of medication administration:

#1 What patient is getting the medication

#2 What medication is to be given

#3 How much medication is to be given

#4 What time it is to be given (or how often)

#5 What route it is to be given

So an order might be "Give John Smith (5/13/1995) lorazepam 0.5mg IV once prior to MRI"

In this example, John Smith is the patient and 5/13/1995 is his birthday to differentiate him from all the other John Smiths. "Lorazepam" is the drug's generic name, "0.5mg" is the amount of the drug. "IV" is the route, and "once prior to MRI" is the time.

Drugs have generic and brand names. For example, acetaminophen is a generic name. Many companies make acetaminophen, and each has their own brand name for the drug. Probably the most well-known brand name for acetaminophen is Tylenol, but there are others, like Calpol and Panadol. For most people, it doesn't matter which brand of a particular drug is used, just that the active ingredient (the generic name) is the same. For some people it matters because the non-active ingredients may be different between brands, and they may be allergic to a non-active ingredient that is in one brand, but not another.

In a hospital setting, we're going to use the generic name, because the brand of the drug that is cheapest to the hospital pharmacy varies contract to contract, and there are a lot of drug shortages these days. That's why if you're in the hospital you might get an oval green pill one day and a round white one the next day. They're the same drug, just different brands.

The dose is given in milligrams, usually abbreviated "mg". Milligrams are a measure of weight. Cubic centimeter (cc), on the other hand is a measure of volume. At some point we switched from volume based to weight based measures because we had a lot of different concentrations and using volumes for everything made mistakes really common. If you're using weights, it doesn't matter if the concentration you have is 1mg/mL or 10mg/mL for a given drug, you can do the math and come up with a volume that is right instead of just hoping you picked the one the doctor was thinking about when they wrote the order.

There are many routes a drug can take into the body. There is oral (a pill or liquid), IV (injection in a vein), IM (injection in a muscle), SQ (injection into fat), rectal/PR (a suppository, gel, or liquid inserted into the rectum), SL (under the tongue), TD (a paste or patch that sends medication through the skin) and many more.

Times can be once, once every x hours, once every x hours as needed (PRN), once under a particular circumstance, daily, or pretty much any other interval you can think of. "Stat" is a term meaning "right now".

Here's a list of common medications and their dosages:

CODE DRUGS:

Epinephrine 1mg IV for cardiac arrest every 3-5 minutes, 0.3mg for anaphylaxis

Amiodarone 150-300mg IV over 10 minutes for cardiac arrest

Lidocaine 75mg for cardiac arrest initially, if that doesn't work then 37.5 10 mins later

Adenosine 6mg given very quickly for PSVT, if that doesn't work, give 12mg

Atropine 1mg every 3-5 minutes for low heart rate until heart rate is normal

OTHER DRUGS:

Albuterol 2.5mg in nebulizer for brochospasm/asthma attack

Metoprolol 5mg IV every 5 minutes up to 15mg for severe high blood pressure

Furosemide 20-80mg IV for fluid on lungs

D50 25g IV for low blood sugar

Diphenhydramine 12.5-50mg IV for allergic reaction

Morphine 2-10mg IV or IM for pain

Fentanyl 50-200mcg for sedation

Mannitol 20-150g for increased pressure inside the skull

Nitroglycerin 0.3-0.6mg every 5 minutes up to 3 times for chest pain (angina)

Naloxone 8mg nasal spray every 2-3 minutes for opioid overdose

Flumazenil 0.2mg IV for benzodiazepine poisoning, if that doesn't work give 0.3mg, if that doesn't work, give 0.5

Diazepam 15mg rectal gel for seizures that don't stop

Phenobarbital 1-1.5g IV for seizures that don't stop

Etomidate 22mg IV for anesthesia (for things like intubating someone)

Midazolam 5mg IV for sedation prior to surgery

Olanzepine 5-10mg IV for agitation (emergency sedation)

Haloperidol 0.5-10mg oral or IM for agitation (emergency sedation)

[vvirtuallycute]

An shiraishi npts !!

Names : Ann , Anny , aria , melody , star , Starla , Shiro , Abigail , dionise , Beatrice , Melpomene , setsuko , Vivi , Aileen , Alina , Estella , hoku , Seren , Hoshi , astra . . .

Pronouns : shx ) hxr , shy ) hyr , mu ) music , star ) stars , vi ) vivids , confi ) confident , cool ) cools , rad ) rads , coff ) coffee , spirit ) spirited , street ) streets , unyield ) unyielding , tal ) talent , deter ) determined . . .

Titles : the determined one , (prn) that has a dream , Ken's daughter , (prns) unyielding spirit , tomato hater , (prn) who is bad at studying ) Math , kohane's supportive pal , (prn) who wants to surpass RAD WEEKEND , (prn) with (prns) star accessories . . .

[yaostars]

GOJO SATORU ✩

note: this is angst (sorry), she/her prns, fem reader, lowercase a/n: bye i js watched all of jjk for the 2nd time since season 2 came out n i felt like rewatching the first season but gosh i felt like ruining everyones day by writing this after reading the Shibuya arc a month ago. anywho hope u like it and i hope i ruined ur day bc i ruined mine by writing this at 1 in the morning summary: you and gojo had an argument over your mental health and after it gojo needed a few days of getting himself back together but during those days you were caught up in a mission... (cliffhanger LOL)

it had been a few days after the small fight gojo and you had after him worrying over your health. he saw the lack of sleep, eating and mainly yourself lack anything at that point. he was sick worried and wasn't sure on what to do with himself but confront. you on the other hand didn't even realise this was happening to yourself to the point you snapped at him. in conclusion he had told you he needed a bit of space for a few days just to collect himself again. you fully agreed well more like a small nod and head down not watching him leave.

over the past day you had received a mission which you gave full awareness that you were going to do it just so the fight could be out of your mind. only if you knew what the after math would be.

slowly making your way there you felt the presence of quite a curse. you were obviously not in the right state to fight but kept going. unconsciously doing this you didnt even realise the curse had landed a blow before exorcising it. softly puffing out cold air trying to catch your breath obviously now understanding your boyfriends point on how your health was no longer good.

taking a small step before collapsing on the ground not even realising you had managed to have a massive hole in your stomach. groaning at the sudden feeling of your intestines moving around. it was survival mode at this point but all you felt was cold and in a state of shock still.

shakily grabbing out your phone seeing you and gojo on the front making small tears form knowing at this point you weren't going to make it. quickly typing in the password and getting to gojos contact. you pressed the call button waiting for him to pick up but all you were left was a voicemail. trying heaps of times to call him back until coughing small bits of blood up realising you were still going on voicemail. sighing before saying possibly your last words ever.

"heyyy this is gojo satoru cant get to the phone right now please leave a message BEEP" is all you could hear until clearing your throat.

"hey toru uhm idk when you're going to listen to this but im sorry for not listening but.. ive messed up and i need help but uhh please get back to me soon as possible .. i love you" you ended it slightly cussing at yourself knowing he wont get back.

you laid on the grass which you couldn't feel anymore neither your body. sighing softly before tears fell knowing no one is gonna come to find you. you started to see black making you smile for the last time.

gojo had been busy for the last few days with his students completely forgetting about the problem he had with you. he opened your contact seeing a voicemail at least a few days ago. he was hoping it had been an apology or please come back to me i miss you. he tapped on the button and the first thing he heard was your cough. slightly worried until he heard the next few words. he stood there frozen and unable to move before calling Ijichi on where you last were franticly. he had told gojo that you went on a mission a few days ago and he was also slightly worried due to no contact. he had given gojo where he had dropped her off making him scurry and practically run to the place.

after a long jog gojo had made it to the place seeing it was tourist sighting but not many people were there either. gojo was freaking out looking everywhere until seeing a familiar patch of (h/c) in the corner of his eye. he stopped and retraced his steps before seeing it again. he hoped you were okay and not dead silently praying before taking a long step over the bush seeing you. he was frozen hoping all of this was a fever dream and that he would wake up in your arms again but no you were there with a little smile adorned on your face peacefully laying. looking away with a shaky breath making his way over to you and crouching down moving a few strands of hair away from your eyes. he was upset at himself and knew it was his fault. tears fell but he didnt know that at all thinking it was just raining.

he softly grabbed you in bridal style on his lap hugging you hoping you were just sleeping forgetting that there was a hole in your stomach and no heartbeat at all. cradling your head he softly swayed you in silence while all he could hear was the trees rustling and small birds talk to each other.

he sat there hours waiting for you for any sign but at the end of the day you were gone like dust in the wind.

[spadecentral]

♣ Clubs NRC Should Have and Why They Don’t | TWST

>> requested: no >> a/n: none

>> masterlist: ramshackle (misc.) >> summary: explanations of why nrc doesn't have specific clubs >> reader prns: n/a >> warning(s): none

Theatre — the audience was too loud when they hated parts of the plays; students have almost killed others by using actual magic instead of fake magic

Book Club — the librarian kicked people out for whispering once; no one goes in there when they can avoid it

Anime Club — idia would have started one if he didn’t have crippling anxiety

Model United Nations — they don’t have to model when there are important political figures attending the school

Debate Club — kids have been sent to the hospital

Philosophy Club — people will verbally bully any imbecile in this club

Mathletics Club — who the fuck likes math

>> twst taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @ghost-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @booming-spam | @flqyd-is-lost

[ceebit]

wc : 1.6k. fem prns used. teacher!au.

note : i’m soft for the teachers crushing on each other being brought together by their students’ devious plotting trope….. and i’ve been thinking abt cheol lately :)

“miss yn! miss yn! mr. cheol is here again!”

you pause in helping one of your kids with a particularly challenging problem, ruffling their hair with a smile and promising to be back with an interlock of your pinkies before heading towards the classroom door. fourteen curious heads crane to look as well, math worksheets temporarily forgotten, and the voice of the kid talking pipes up again.

she peeks around the doorway once more, no doubt talking to your coworker if her giggles floating above his hushed voice go by anything, and she turns back to face with you a grin that lights her face up, pigtails bouncing.

“he said it’s reeeeeally urgent, miss. you need to go!”

you laugh, relenting with a short nod, and gently motion for her to return back to her seat. the small body squeezing past you to no doubt gossip amongst her peers, you step out into the hall and lean against the propped door with crosse arms.

“so,” you start, fighting off the smile on your lips for a more professional look (for the sake of your kids and any… nosy individuals who happened to eavesdrop), your fingers tapping lightly against your arms. “what was so urgent you had to interrupt lower level math?”

he smiles, teasing despite your air of appearing composed, and plays along. “i bought lunch,” he answers smoothly, and jabbing a thumb in the general direction of the teacher’s lounge, adds, “and i want you to eat with me.”

choi seungcheol. somewhat of a godsend aide to the peaceful life you’d hoped to have ever since you’d been hired at pledis elementary, the prestigious primary school every parent dreamed of sending their children too. he’d taken you under his wing once you’d found yourself lost on your way to your first board meeting, a mess of frazzled nerves and energy. since then, he’s been nothing but a friendly familiar face in the halls, introducing you to other members of the staff and helping you get acquainted and settled easily.

so essentially, you owed your comfortability to him. for all it’s worth, you’ve tried to repay his kindness with promises of coffee or helping out with his work, but he’d turned every single attempt down with a grin that did little to stamp down the itty bitty crush you’d developed on him.

“yn?” you blink, momentarily dazed, and return back to focus when he peers at you curiously. heat prickles at the back of your neck at the concern flickering in his eyes, and in a rush, a small laugh slips past your lips.

“sorry—they had art before this and i think i inhaled a little too much glue… fumes.” you clear your throat, your smile fond, “kids, right?”

all his concern melts into amusement and you thank all your stars in the sky for quick wit and the habits of small children. “right,” his voice drawls, and he reaches out to pat your arm teasingly. “like that beats the smell of the gym after classes?”

your mouth falls open at the jab, and his laugh echoes against the walls. “are you seriously trying to one-up me over ridiculous smells?” this man was going to be the death of you.

the bell rings, signaling the end of that class period, and he begins to walk backwards with a cheesy smile. “lunch, remember.”

you roll your eyes, but nod in good nature. “wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

turning back to the class, you jump slightly at the intense stares of fifteen pairs of eyes on you. soo-ah, the little girl who had greeted seungcheol before you, stands up and raises her hand.

wary, you nod in her direction. “yes, soo-ah?”

“are you and mr. cheol dating?”

you don’t even know how to begin to answer that one.

“he what?!”

you’re quick to shush your hallway companion as you lead your respective classes down to the lunch hall, glancing back at the children tottering behind you with their lunchboxes in hand. they stare up at your and your class hall neighbor, joshua hong, with wide eyes, and you discreetly pinch his arm as you plaster a smile on your faces.

“is everyone ready for lunch?” you ask sweetly, and your heart melts at the chorus of yes that obediently follows suit. soo-ah and one of joshua’s students link hands, and you smile down at them. cute little line leaders.

“alright, then.” you clasp your hands together, and with joshua holding the door open, you lead the students to their lunch tables and let them get seated. you hover over each student and make sure they’re all accounted for, napkins placed in their laps, and settle down on a nearby table with joshua and few other teachers.

“they’re so cute when their faces are all stuffed with food,” joshua’s teacher’s help, yaerin, was saying. she smiles when you seat yourself next to her, and you squeeze her arm gently in hello. “they look like little hamsters!”

“that’s what i said!” soonyoung from down the hall exclaims, and everyone laughs as they high five over their heads. “look at their little cheeks…”

amicable silence drapes over your table as you all coo gently at the little ones giggling amongst themselves.

“so, anyone have plans?” seungkwan pipes, digging into his lunch. waving a utensil around, he adds, “details about their love life, and the sort.”

joshua merely grins, coming off as the picturesque of a gentleman, but you cut him off before he can even say a word. “actually,” you toss him a glare, to which he simply raises his hands up in surrender. “i was supposed to have lunch with seungcheol today.”

taking a bite of your food, you chew thoughtfully for a moment, humming in content as everyone stares at your with varied looks of exasperation, amusement, and bewilderment. it makes you frown, picking up a napkin to dab at your lips self consciously, and you turn to yaerin, whose brows have risen so high they hide beneath her bangs.

“did i say something wrong?” you look around the table in defeat, and joshua muffles a snort into his fist. “seriously! what did i say wrong?”

“you said you’re having lunch with seungcheol,” minghao pipes up from where seungkwan looks like he wants to have your head. if not for him, you’re sure your boisterous friend would have shaken all the marbles out of your head.

“yes? so what?”

minghao arches a brow. “you’re having lunch with us. he isn’t here. we’ll wait until you make the connection.”

you stare at the table with furrowed brows, hands stilled over your lunch. why did it feel like there was something you were missing? nagging at your brain, insistent on your remembering—

your eyes widen, and minghao nods, reassured. “there she is.”

“i’m an idiot,” you gasp, scrambling up from your seat as you pack your lunch. soonyoung and yaerin giggle as seungkwan buries his face into his hands and groans, and joshua merely grins.

“glad you noticed. go,” he shoos you away with a knowing look, “we’ll watch the kids. go!”

you flash a thankful smile on your dash out of the hall and into the hallway once more, stumbling over your feet in a rush. heart pounding in your chest and stomach growling as you glance down at your lunch pitifully, you chastise yourself for forgetting about… what could you even call it? was it a date? could even date on school grounds?

the sole thought of dating him made your stomach turn like a giddy school girl with a hopeless crush. maybe you really did get your sense knocked out by glue fumes.

you slow your gait as you near the teacher’s lounge, heart climbing into your throat. would he be mad? did he think you’d bailed on him? would he hate you? you would certainly be a little miffed if someone you’d invited for lunch didn’t show up without a reason—so you figured you’d give him the truthful explanation if he’d stuck around long enough to wait.

slowly, you push the door open to the spacious room quietly, bag clutched to your chest, and bite your lip anxiously as you survey the room. you spot seokmin and chan from higher level creative arts conversing quietly in a corner and nod when they both wave in greeting. seokmin silently points towards one of the small offices, and you thank him on your way over.

“he looks like someone shat in his cheerios,” chan comments cheerfully as you walk past the duo. shaking your head, you hear seokmin smack his arm and chan’s blunt what? following suit almost puts a smile on your face.

the door to the quiet room squeaks against its hinges when you open it, and seungcheol looks up as you freeze in the entryway with a bashful grin.

“hi…” you mumble, remorse written all over your features, and you draw yourself towards a seat facing him. setting your lunch on the table, you squeeze the back of the chair and sigh. “i’m so sorry, seungcheol—i didn’t mean to be late. i lost track of time and—”

“it’s alright, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” drawing your gaze up to his face, relief floods through your body at his reassuring smile. pulling out the chair when he gestures for you to sit, he resumes eating his lunch with a teasing look. “i’m sure whatever was holding you wasn’t too bad.”

you groan, rolling your eyes, and reopen your lunch. “joshua’s such a little shit,” you mumble, more to yourself than him, but seungcheol straightens up.

“joshua?” you look up at him quizzically and nod, chewing thoughtfully. “as in…”

“mr. hong? mm, he said being called that reminds him of his grandfather and that he’s not that age yet,” you snort. “he’s the teacher in the classroom across from mine, we were taking our classes down together.”

“i see,” seungcheol murmurs, and if you’d looked any closer, you would have seen the slight frown tugging at his lips.

complete masterlist + part two !

taglist (send and ask to be added): @wonublr @kim-jvnkyu @candidupped

[musicalslag]

about me | intro post

age: 14

name: sam/sammy

country: england

prns: he/him (male)

interests:

reading + books , singing + musicals/theatre , history , studyblr ..? (does that count idk) , poetry

🐄

fav books (from what iv read recently):

the nevermoor series

if we were villains

the secret history

gwen and art are not in love

all thats left in the world

twenty love poems and a song of despair

jekyll and hyde

fav musicals:

the book of mormon

falsettos

in trousers

something rotten

be more chill

the guy who didnt like musicals

newsies

hamilton

little shop of horrors

jesus christ superstar

hadestown

jekyll and hyde

phantom of the opera

legally blonde

waitress

( i was also a gleek )

subjects im taking right now (GCSE):

maths, english, science (seperate right now but possibly combined soon)

art (+ art award)

photography/film

history

be my friend pls !!!!

[finnwrld]

- devil's advocate -

pairing: eddie munson x reader (no prns)

word count: 3.9k

content: spoiler free, sex but no smut (i'm struggling to commit to smut), tutor troupe, swearing, smoking, drinking, my rusty writing and horrible attempt to write from the r-r-r-readers perspective 🤢 also tw the reader is good at math

summary: after hooking up with eddie munson 3 seperate times in a month and never talking about it, you somehow get stuck tutoring him.

a/n: im alive i promise. are any of my followers alive? no. but i am.

Hooking up with Eddie Munson was a one time thing. 

Ok, maybe, a two time thing.

Well, if you were being honest with yourself, it was a three time thing. Three times in one month.  

It was supposed to happen once. 

Never once did you anticipate ever speaking to Eddie ever again after walking up to him at Vicki Carmicheal’s party. When he stepped closer, his alcohol-tainted breath fanning on you, you guessed he thought the same. You didn’t even think you would remember the night when you closed the gap.

—

“Eddie Munson, stay after class.” 

Thankful that you weren't in Eddie’s shoes, you gathered your stuff to leave school for the day with the rest of the class. 

“Oh,” your teacher’s eyes left his laptop to scan over the room, “And Y/n L/n.” 

—

At the bonfire, when your blurred vision picked up the brown curls of Eddie Munson, you attempted to ignore heat that surged across your body. You blamed it on the alcohol. You blamed the way his chest wavered as he locked his eyes with you on the alcohol. Alcohol is what guided your hands under his shirt and what pushed his body flush to yours. You would blame a lot of what you did that night on the alcohol.

—

A tense silence stuffed the classroom as you, Eddie, and your teacher sat awkwardly across from each other. Eddie was intensely avoiding eye contact and you tried to keep your leg from bouncing as you all waited for somebody to speak.

“Mr. Munson,” your teacher started, “You, my boy, have the lowest grade out of any student of Hawkens High enrolled in Algebra 2.” He let his statement linger in the air, allowing the both of you to absorb his words, then, he continued.

“But, since I really do believe in you, I’ve taken it upon myself to get you a tutor until your grade has improved.” 

You could practically see Eddie's face curl up in anguish. 

“Am I not allowed to pick my own?”

Your teacher shook his head slowly, “No. I have picked out the perfect candidate.” 

—

When you heard Eddie Munson was coming to Hagan’s new years party, you couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement that had danced around your chest. His being tainted your head as you got ready, your eyes trained to how he would see you. A flash of him interrupted every blink. His voice whispered in your ear. Ghosts of touch lingered on your skin. 

When you finally got to the party, your eyes dodged every other person there, since they were desperately darting around. Music pumped through your veins as you grabbed a cup of whatever was in the punch bowl, eyes still scanning the room. Downing it as fast as you could, you let the buzz of the booze wash over you and resumed your search. A glimpse of leather, a black and white baseball tee, a flash of red. Finally, he was in frame. 

Your breath caught as his eyes slowly moved over your form, shyly meeting your own. Multi-colored lights glided across his body, his white shirt so shear the ink of his tattoos could be seen through it. Music drowned out your heartbeat. You could feel the blush that crawled up your cheeks, Eddie's own color reflected back. Carefully, you let one foot float in front of the other and walked over to Eddie. Alcohol already fusing with your body, you let your hand casually hook around his belt loop. Using your new connection, you guided him out of the house, a smirk pulling on the corner of Eddie’s lip as he let you lead.  

“Not even gonna say hi first,” he scoffed, hands raised. 

“We can talk when I’m high,” you countered, sitting down behind Mr. Hagan’s shed, and desperately attempting to cover up your flustered expression from the adrenalin. 

Eddie dawned a faux-concerned expression. “I think this drug problem is getting really serious.” 

“Shut up Munson.” 

His smirk reformed as he pulled out that stupid rusty box, and rummaged through it until he found a pre and a lighter. After straightening it out a bit, he gently placed the joint between his teeth. Each satisfying swipe of the lighter dragged your eyes down to his lips. The flame that danced over the sides of the joint lured your gaze to stray from Eddie’s deep eyes to focus on his mouth as he exhaled a puff of smoke, letting some stream into his nose.

After a couple more hits, he held the joint out to you between two fingers, glazed eyes watching the stars. You gratefully accepted it, attempting to clear your mind of the vision of the moonlight cascading down his face, sculpting each dip and grove. You breathed deep when your lips were sealed around the filter, letting the smoke fill your lungs. Each hit brought you back to him. Back to how close you were seated, how his leg felt against yours, how he'd begun to slide his hand closer to you.

His hand lingered above your exposed thigh, just grazing it with the skin of his palm. Chills swept down your legs as the cool metal of his rings brushed across your skin, and you could feel the curve of his satisfied smile at your reaction as he leaned into your shoulder. His hand carefully curled around your leg, slowly gliding its way up. 

“What are you doing Eddie,” you whispered. 

He replied lowly, so close you could feel each syllable against your skin as they left his lips, “Whatever you want me to.” 

—

The sound of yours and Eddie's shoes against the deserted linoleum of the school hallways was unnerving. Binders and spiral notebooks dug into your skin as you gripped them, hands white knuckled and clammy. You could just barely feel the denim of his jacket brush against your arm, and you half wished he would move further away as you walked. 

You had to tutor Eddie fucking Munson. Your teacher hadn’t spared either of you a moment before sending you off to the library, giving you just enough time to overthink the next hour. 

It wasn’t easy being near Eddie. You two had never interacted outside of sex, and it was difficult to interact normally, acting as if nothing had happened. But what were you supposed to say? How do you approach a conversation about that? Not even just that though, how do you approach any conversation with somebody you’ve never even spoken to outside of sex? You’ve never even had a conversation with him sober. Was he even going to listen to you teach? Would his whole view and respect for you be skewed? And how on earth were you supposed to talk to him when such a striking mix of weed and cologne permanently emanated from him. Your brain probably wouldn’t even work well enough to teach him math. 

He seemed fine. That familiar stupid smirk hung on his face as he held the library door open for you with a flourish.

The thank you said in return probably counted more as mouthing than speaking. 

Acutely aware of his intense gaze on you, you awkwardly led him to one of the old chipped tables in the corner of the library, far away from any remaining students. Your chair creaked as you pulled it out, breaking the silence you and Eddie had been drowned in since you left class. You finally unclamped your hands from around your notebooks and began to lay them out on the table busily while Eddie fished around in his pocket for something. 

Turns out it was a singular dull pencil without an eraser. 

“Alright,” you said uncertainly, sitting down and trying to organize your brain, “Um… where do you want to start?” 

“You’re the teacher here, where should we start?” 

Of course he was gonna make this difficult. 

“Ok. Fine.” You shuffled your papers around, not really for any reason, just to bide yourself some time. “Do you have any questions about today’s lesson?” 

His face instantly slipped into a deep troubled pondering expression. One that was much too dramatic for Eddie to be serious. “What did we learn?” 

“Matrices and transition graphs,” you almost deadpanned.

Gears began to visibly turn in his head, and he muttered, “Matrices and transition graphs… ahh…”

“You have no clue what those are, do you?” 

“Not one.” 

You sighed, not even shocked, not even angry. It was honestly sort of tough to conceal your smile. 

“I'm going to be your tutor for a while, aren't I." 

He shot you a grin, “Only if I have it my way.” 

—

Tutoring Eddie Munson was alright. 

That’s what you told to anybody who asked.

In reality, tutoring Eddie Munson was much more than alright. 

You had never really ever been around somebody like him. He exuded a disconcerting aire of cocky but comforting, cool but offbeat. At every moment when you thought that he would finally upset you, he would wheel in the exact opposite direction, driving your emotions through a startlingly enjoyable route. 

Shockingly, he was pretty easy to talk to. Never once did your past encounters get brought up, which you were endlessly grateful for, and he treated you just like any of his friends, with respect and kindness, which could not be said for some of your other past hookups. He said hi to you in the halls and smiled at you from across classes, he learned your favorite music and what food you hated, he made an effort to know you. Tutoring him barely felt like work. Most of the time that you spent teaching him math was overlaid with chatting mindlessly and giggling as he tried to secretly count on his fingers. Sometimes you could waste whole tutoring sessions listening to some grand dramatic story he told as he bounded around your table, morphing into different characters and voices, putting on a full one-man show before you. 

He was also, completely and utterly, gorgeous. 

The way his hair draped delicately over his shoulder, how his necklaces dangled from his skin as he leaned over the table, when he would tilt his head to the side as he listened, the glimpses of his tattoos. Every word you spoke and every syllable you uttered had his undivided attention as you talked, big brown eyes gazing at you, taking in every feature. 

On cloud-free days, the sun would beam down through the tall library windows onto the dark oak of the table you had both claimed and would reflect off of the silver of his rings. They would glint distractingly as Eddie wrote, catching your eye at every shift. It happened so often you had now memorized his usual jewelry selections. A great ugly boar rested on his middle finger, accompanied by one skull ring on either side. On his other hand, an ornate ring with patterns that curled up the side and cradled a deep blue stone in the center.

He knew you were staring at his hands, but you didn’t care.

His unflinching reaction towards your gaze gave you just enough of a push to one day ask, “Could I… try on one of your rings?” 

His eyebrows raised in shock, “You want to wear my jewelry? This is quite out of character…”  He flashed a toothy grin at you from across the table, “I love it.”

“Thanks for reminding me how much you love the real me,” you deadpanned, ignoring the excitement that was bubbling up your chest. 

“Forever and always,” another shining grin, “Now…” he said dramatically, face suddenly darkening, “Which one will you choose… your whole reputation depends on this one decision.” He waved his hands around with a flourish. “Will you still have your student’s respect after this? Will anybody ever talk to you again? We will see..” His hands stilled in front of you, and he held them out to give you a clear view of each band.

You put one hand up to your chin, miming contemplating the choice, and let your other hand drop down to his own, taking one finger and guiding it across his knuckles. His chest completely stilled.

“Hmmm…”

Your finger came to a halt over the intricate ring with the blue jewel. Eddie’s smile reformed and he faintly exhaled as your finger lost contact with his skin. 

“Good choice,” he said, not looking up at you. His eyes were trained at his own hand, slowly twisting the band off of his ring finger. They continued to avoid yours as, to your surprise, he didn’t give you the ring after he had freed it from his own finger. 

He took your right hand in his, his skin gently curving around your own, and brought his thumb beneath your ring finger, lifting it above the others. Your chest began to heat up at the delicacy with which he delivered this, and you urgently tried to blot out the earlier instances when Eddie had held you with the same touch. It felt like he was barely grazing your skin, and yet you could feel, with a searing intensity, each joint of each of his fingers shifting under your flesh, curling and stilling around you. 

Chills shot up your spine as the cool metal of the chosen ring finally met your skin, and at last, Eddie raised his eyes to meet your own. They remained riveted on yours as his fingers guided the band down your finger and, though the ring was fully fastened, his fingers remained resting against your skin. He let them stray up, delicately brushing against you as he cradled your hand.

The raw air chilled your skin when he drew away. 

You’re grateful he didn't say anything when you left that session with the ring still fixed around your finger, because you don’t think you could’ve gone through that again anytime soon. 

That night, you slept thinking of Eddie’s touch.

—

The issue with Eddie was, despite your best efforts, he would never leave your thoughts. Every sense was occupied non stop by his smell, his voice, his gaze. Intoxicatingly, you overdosed on every part of him, eventually giving up on blocking his presence and allowing him to consume each and every thought you produced.

He seemed to know that even after you left him, he remained a permanent fixture in your mind. It was written in his smug smile and his playful jabs, the knowing. 

His presence was so constant that it must’ve been on purpose. 

Each little thing. Him using your pencil casually during school, knowing you could see. Never mentioning the ring that still lay on your finger, allowing you the chance to keep it. The glances down your being as you passed, catching him staring across the class, touches that lasted far too long. He wanted you to be thinking of him.

There were nights when you, under the golden light of your desk lamp, would open your notebook to doodles dotted around the edges of your paper, snuck in while you were focused on something else. The pages of anything you brought to tutoring were lined with cartoonish devils and creatures with many legs and sharp teeth that lined their roaring mouths that Eddie had thought up. Vines curled around the lining of the page, and a little mix-matched group of elvis and wizards dashed across the top margin. In the very bottom corner, tucked between a crude drawing of a smiling clown and an ornate sword, was a drawing he seemed to have put a bit more time into. 

The more you examined it, the stronger that recognizable heat radiated across your chest. It was a bust's profile, with the head tilted slightly down and brows furrowed in concentration, pen carefully structuring the swooping bridge of a nose and curvature of lips. 

It wasn't flawless, but there was no mistaking that it was you.

That night, you slept thinking of Eddie’s thoughts. 

—

Eddie’s math grades had actually begun to improve, and in class you watched with pride as he started to listen to your teacher, sometimes even taking notes. He would show you his math tests with a huge smile, genuinely excited to see how you would react at his new shiny high score. 

Mid-way through April, he sauntered into the library, horribly concealing the giddy expression that was forming on his face and a hand behind his back. 

You inquired, your face beginning to reflect his smile, "Something terrible happen to you, Ed?"

“Oh it’s nothing,” he said, drifting around the table as if he was wandering through a lush garden, “just… this!” and the hand that had been hidden behind his back whipped out to reveal a paper with a great red “93%” scrawled on it. 

“Eddie!” you sprung out of your chair and ran over to where he was to snatch the paper out of his hand. “This is fucking g-” 

But before you could finish your sentence, he flung his arms around you and drew you into a hug. “I’m a genius now, thanks to you,” he whispered into your ear, as you brought your arms up to loop around his back. 

“You don't even need me anymore,” you whispered back, trying to fight the urge to bury your head into the crook of his neck. 

Eddie pulled away abruptly, looking at you as if you had just slid a knife into his chest. “Don’t you try and get rid of me.” His face was inches from yours, hands dropping to rest against your hips instead of fully pulling away. You let your head tilt to the side gently.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

He shook his head with a faux-anxious aire, “I’m gonna have to start failing my tests again so that you can’t escape, aren’t I?” 

You could barely even focus on what he was saying because of how vividly you were aware of how his hands rested against your jeans, how you could smell the weed in his hair and the leather of his jacket, how he hadn’t broken eye contact since he pulled from the hug. 

His smile had finally returned to his face, he had gone off on some tangent and was animatedly talking, clearly still giddy from his test score. That smile had become a very important part in your life as of late. They weren’t rare or extreme, but they were somehow better every time. 

That night, you slept thinking of Eddie’s being. 

—

Liking Eddie Munson was hard. 

Eddie Munson sticks to what he knows. Eddie Munson gets bored easily. Eddie Munson won’t ask you out. 

You knew he was going to Steve Harington’s birthday party. You didn’t know how he even managed to get invited but you knew he was going. And he knew that you were going too. 

But when you got to Steve’s house, he was nowhere to be found. You had spent the first 30 minutes, walking around and making brief conversation with people as you half-searched for Eddie. As you made your way around the house, still unable to find him, you began asking people off-handedly if they had seen the freak (under the pretext of giving him his math homework back). The few answers that you received that weren’t weird looks got you nowhere, and eventually you found yourself finally just aimlessly roaming through the upper floors of the Harringtons' house. 

It was useless. The top level was completely empty, save for a rather awkward encounter with Nancy and Steve as they were leaving his bedroom, and you knew it was time to leave. At the very least, you needed some fresh air if you weren't going to entirely go, so you returned to the first floor and into the foyer.

You flung the front door open with a huff and your eyes landed on a figure that was standing on the porch of the house across the street. Cigarette haze clouded around him, catching the moonlight in its smoke and giving him an almost dreamlike glow as he let his head hang back. Despite yourself, you let his name fall from your lips, shouting across the empty street, “Eddie?” 

He casually swung himself around to face you, eyes foggily making their way to meet your own, lighting up as they cleared. A smile had begun to spread across his face and he lifted up his hand to beckon you to him. Slowly, you floated across the abandoned road and up the few stairs to the neighbors porch, leaning over the balcony railing and basking in the cool spring night that you both found yourself in. Eddie gently leaned his back against it, taking a drag from his half finished cigarette as he did so. 

“Do you wanna go on a walk with me?” 

You didn’t try to hide the grin that tugged at your lips. “Where to?” 

“Just around,” he said with a shrug and a smile, and he set off, one hand deep in his pocket and smoke billowing from his lips. Following behind him, you quickly caught up and paced beside Eddie, melting into the mix of collonge and cigarettes that exuded from him. 

The faint murmur of music could still be heard coming from the street, pumping adrenaline and impulse through your bones as if it was the cold itself. You, again, could feel the leather of Eddie's jacket brushing against your bare arm, static branching from the skin. Lonely street lamp’s glow glinted on the shining leather and in the brown of his averted eyes. 

Eddie broke the silence first, eyes trained at the stars.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” He let out some smoke with a puff. 

It took you a while to recover enough words to form a sentence in reply and, thankful for Eddie's avoidance of eye contact, you let yourself breath before giving an answer. 

“What… about me?” You tried to come off as nonchalant but you could tell he could hear the tenseness dripping off your voice. 

“About” and it was his turn to waver now, sucking in an uneven breath that you could only just hear, “your… whole being.”

He pushed his head into his hands and let out a laugh. An actual, honest, almost desperate, laugh. “Every waking moment I’ve ever spent with you,” he continued, “Every word you’ve ever spoken, every time you’ve ever looked in my direction.” With each word he spoke he seemed to be in less and less control of what he was saying, more and more frenzied.

You hadn’t moved. You stood stagnant, in the middle of the empty street, streetlights spotlighting you and him, blacking out the rest of the world into dark expanse, and stared at Eddie Munson as he said words you couldn’t dream of and looked at you like he never had before. 

As Eddie stood just inches before you, a lock of hair caught between his teeth, looking at you for a response with worry etched deep in his features. You knew what you wanted to say, and when you breathed in and readied to reply, you just hoped it would come out how you wanted it to. 

“Eddie,” you reached out and took his hand, “Would you go on a date with me?” 

The worry that had felt so ingrained in his face dropped at all at once, and he gazed at you, lips slightly parted and eyes wide. 

“Did you mean that?” he whispered, so softly it was barely audible.

You let your forehead meet his, “Of course.”

When he spoke again his voice came out almost strained, as if he was trying to stay calm, "Then yes, yes, yes-" and, finally, he closed the gap between your lips, cupping your face and pressing against you like it was the last thing he would ever do.

And in that glorious moment it became very clear to you, hooking up with Eddie Munson was definitely not a one time thing.

[vgilantee]

so because it’s taking longer than i would have hoped to write this price fic (i keep staring at the open document and not writing…), would y’all like some prn links? i have a couple on hand 🤭

also if y’all have any you’d like to share… my inbox is open

[kimblestudies]

studyblr intro

-> it's been a while so I wanted to post another one of these.

About me:

call me Kimble :]

woman. indifferent about gender and prns.

high school senior (US) intending to study international economics.

I like enjoy writing, making art, embroidering, crocheting, reading, cooking, and baking.

I've had this studyblr for a while now and I always love interacting with other similar blogs. I like posting aesthetic pictures in order to romanticize my academics and hopefully inspire others.

My posted will be tagged w/ #kimblestudies

Classes: -> Calculus II/Differential Equations, AP Government and MacroEconomics, AP Art, Geoscience, and AP Literature.

More about me:

-> I have three cats: Rowan, Apollo, and Luci <3

-> I love listening to music, and don't know if I have a favorite artist for sure, but I like listening to Lemon Demon when I do math. Other favs are Dresden Dolls, The Velvet Underground, Mitski, Will Wood, MGMT, Glass Animals, Hozier, and quite a few musical soundtracks.

-> I am neurodivergent with anxiety, and I've found out how to work with my brain to make school work for me! (Most of the time, anyway).

-> I keep an 'everything journal' and it works really well for me.

-> I'm agnostic, but sometimes I might post some stuff about my crystal collection or tarot cards.

-> I also collect keychains and shiny objects.

-> My favorite genres are horror, science fiction, classic lit, and historical fiction (particularly historical fantasy).

-> INTJ, 5w6

Goals:

-> Enjoy my senior year -> Move out to Uni

-> Read 25 Books in 2024.

[alex-just-vibing]

to the person who said their school allows nsfw content:

SOMEHOW MY SCHOOL DOESNT HAVE THOSE WEBSITES BLACKLISTED BUT GUESS WHAT???

they literally don’t let us have an AppStore 😭

and YouTube is like, only accessible thru one browser, they even have certain games on cool math games blocked

also silly story: one of my friends friends used AO3 so much the school blocked it 😭

jesus fucking christ. tumblr's blacklisted on my chromebook cuz its categorized as prn ?????

[stealingyourstoats]

Uh so pinned post thing

I'm orie! Welcome to my blog! :)

I'm bi and prns are she/her but I don't mind others

I like writing, drawing, listening to music and videogames

ASKS are welcome!!! DMs are welcome especially from moots!!

Under the cut are some more things about me!

Favourite medias - characters

- Resident Evil - Mr X and Lady Dimitrescu [have only played RE1R, RE2R, Biohazard and Village]

- Ace Attorney - Damon Gant, Manfred von Karma and Dick Gumshoe [have only played the PW trilogy, please don't spoil]

- Danganronpa - Sakura Oogami, Nekomaru Nidai and Gonta Gokuhara [in that order]

- The Legend of Zelda - Ganondorf [have only played some 3d games]

- Chicago: The musical - Mama

Other things I like

- Caparezza (fav song - Cacca nello spazio)

- Mushrooms

- Maths

About the characters/things I like: I don't mind you following even if you dislike them, as long as you don't post hate in the tags we're golden (this is especially about MvK)

TAGS:

#orie has the mic/ - Textposts made by me, will usually contain rambles

#orie has the pencil/ - Drawings and writings by me. I post rarely in this one, but will in the future!

#orie's faves/ - Posts I really like

#orie answers/ - Answering asks

Will add if needed!!

[spadecentral]

🖊 Hope Writer | Riddle Rosehearts x Reader

>> requested: yes, by @indulgentandidiotic >> a/n: of course, moo!! love ya

>> masterlist: 200 fllr special, here!! >> summary: filled with hope to meet your soulmate someday, you had never stopped writing on your arm. unfortunately, your soulmate never responded >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): you replace yuu, second person pov

The colors showed up a lot more frequently than usual. And the writing. Random words on Riddle's pale skin appeared, which were quickly scribbled out by black ink. Nowadays the words were almost incomprehensible.

Writing showed up so frequently and so much that it started showing just above Riddle's collar. Long lines of e's connected together raveled up and down his arm, and makeshift tic-tac-toe boards with only a singular X somewhere in the board spotted his calf.

Of course, Riddle never tried to strike up conversation with his soulmate. His mother always said that finding your so-called soulmate was something that should happen normally. And you two should 'connect like butter, not even knowing you're soulmates'.

But apparently whoever his soulmate was never got the memo. He had frequently ignored the 'Hello's that appeared. Many 'nice to meet you's he turned a blind eye to.

On the other hand, your arms were covered with 'margin writings'. Critiques in how someone said or spelt something wrong, math equations, or figures representing magical pen movements.

Your soulmate—whoever they were—never responded to your greetings, and never bothered to play tic-tac-toe with you!

But, this gave you an opportunity to learn about your soulmate. They were probably stoic, and very into their studies. At least, that's what you gathered.

Having a soulmate that was unwilling to communicate was unreasonably challenging for you. So challenging that you started to memorize your soulmates handwriting, in hopes of coming across similar letters later in life.

No matter how slim it was, your hope was always there.

Riddle had stopped paying attention to the writing on his arms long ago, but recently—after his overblot to be exact—he had started noticing it more and more often. Until when yet another tic-tac-toe board showed up on his hand in black ink, he responded to the X with a little red crown.

And that's when you knew your hope was rewarded.

TWST Taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @ghost-hyacinth | @gh-0st-y | @ch3lun | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @mystaposts | @ze-maki-nin