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glossgojo · 3 months

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farleigh start oxford bf brainrot is real

18+ under the cut! (manhandling, hand kink idk i’m sorry, afab reader, fingering, dirty talk, service top far)

or in which farleigh distracts his stressed girlfriend the way he knows best

you were in your room at oxford working on your laptop, deep in the throes of your thesis paper. you were so focused that you didn’t even hear the door unlock nor your boyfriend huffing at the sight of your narrowed eyes. he always thought you looked so hot in your glasses, he wished you wore them more often. he knew you had been stewing away, your responses sporadic over the phone and with it being near the end of term you were rushing to perfect your work.

he could tell you that it was already perfect and you didn’t need to reread it for the sixth time. farleigh, despite his academic record, was incredibly smart. he just never applied himself, until you slightly forced him to. you had goaded him into caring about his studies the only way you knew would work, by making it a competition.

“hey baby,” you jumped in the spot where you sat on your bed. your back was leaning against the bedframe and it hardly looked comfortable as you craned your neck to look at your laptop. your glasses slightly slipped down your nose from your jerking and farleigh cooed at the sight, pushing them back in place as he climbed onto the bed. your cheeks were warming from his attention already and your lips pouted at the scare he’d given you, you looked fucking delectable.

due to the state of accommodations at oxford, your bed was never big enough to fit both of you comfortably and you let him move you to his lap as he did dozens of times before. your back rested against his chest while your legs lay over his own, outstretched with your laptop on your lap.

“hey far, i’m almost done just reading it again.” you pressed a kiss to his cheek as you turned to look at him, he nodded at your words, hand splayed on your hips as he looked over your head at the words on your screen.

“read it out to me.” he could easily read the words but you didn’t bother questioning him, you’d read to him before and he liked hearing your voice. you began from the beginning of the section hoping that would be enough context for him to understand. you didn’t know that farleigh had practically memorized your paper and could see the words flashing in his head before you even said them. yet you kept reading.

his legs slowly spread, taking yours with him and you stuttered in your reading as you felt the laptop slip off your lap, you picked it up quickly so you could still read. you didn’t let farleigh’s motions distract you, he was just getting comfortable and you clasped your legs together again. farleigh regrettably realized you had no idea what his intentions were, he’d have to be clearer. you were still reading constantly, the words all familiar to him as he pressed a open mouthed kiss to your neck, drawing a gasp from you. and then he bit at your neck, curling his head around the side of it to leave a mark where others could see. you stuttered again and farleigh could see your grip tighten on the laptop.

“far you’re not listening.” it was a whisper, a departure from your reading and he hummed at your words, one hand snaking down your front to part your thighs. you shuddered in his hold as his cold signet ring grazed your bare skin, his fingers splayed on your thigh looking gigantic. you willed away images of all the times he’d put those large hands to use on you.

“i am, your voice is enough to drive me crazy baby.” you scoffed at his words, he was always so needy for you, you imagined if you wore a cardboard box and ski mask he’d have popped a boner from your eyes alone. you weren’t looking especially sexy in your oversized hoodie and loose shorts.

“you’re sick.” he huffed a laugh at your words, you both knew this was the least unsavory turn-on both of you had expressed. he hadn’t missed how you stiffened as his hands roamed your body.

“just let me make you feel good, keep reading it helps to spot errors.” he knew you wouldn’t find any, but it served his purpose. if he could hear you stutter and gasp while reading in that stern academic voice he might just see god.

“o-okay.” you conceded, and he deftly stripped you of the shorts you’d likely stole from his closet. he groaned at the sight of your pussy, he’d have to steal his shorts back if he knew you were wearing them without underwear. you hissed as cool air hit your sensitivity, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“so pretty, always so pretty.” he murmured and the vibrations rumbled your chest, you barely had time to continue reading before he was licking his own fingers and spreading the saliva on your folds. your legs were spread wide and his own were caging them. you started reading again, long fingers sliding saliva and cool air making it feel all the more sharp. you hissed as his thumb found your clit, grinding slowly as a finger teased your hole.

you knuckles were turning white as you continued to read, a gasp breaking your vocation as the thick finger pressed into you. his thumb combined with the feeling of his now hard cock pressed against you, made you get slick easily. his finger slid into your wet heat, curling up to where he knew you wanted him.

“one must wonder if Kant-fuck Farleigh!” you moaned as he fucked into you fast and hard, the obscene sound of your pussy filled the room, you clenched around his finger sucking him in. farleigh was losing his mind on how tight you were just around one of his fingers, you could take him to the knuckle, but your warm walls hugged his finger tightly. he slipped another into you, earning another moan from you.

“so fucking tight, you can’t even take my fingers how will you ever take my cock?” he punctuated his question with another harsh thrust, you were grinding down on his knuckles as your slick slipped down his hands. you whined at his words, one hand gripping his hand now as the other continued to hold your laptop for dear life. you steeled yourself as best as you could and kept reading, the background noise of your wetness making your cheeks burn. you were so wet farleigh was fighting every urge to flip you around and devour you. if you ever put down your laptop maybe he would’ve.

his fingers curled against the front of your walls, his thumb resumed his ministrations and fucked you deep and intentional. you were sure you had never been so fucked out from just his fingers and you were now stuttering through every sentence.

“oh shut the fuck up.” farleigh had had enough, prying the laptop from your hold quite easily with his free hand sticking his fingers into your mouth. you groaned at the intrusion of three large indexes pressing against your tongue, you began to grind against his hand as a third finger teased your entrance. it was your last straw finally giving in and you sucked on his fingers like it was his dick, sloppy and desperate. farleigh twitched against your back at feeling of you grabbing his hand with both of yours and forcing him further down your throat.

his stupid large fingers bullied your cervix as his thumb rubbed vicious circles along your clit, your mind was numb as his third finger slipped inside and stretched you deliciously. you would definitely have to change your sheets after this, a steady stream of slick had been dripping down your ass. the overstimulation became too much, you were so close and farleigh knew it he was keeping you on the edge as he moved away from the spot you needed him most.

your legs threatened to clamp and he slipped his hand from your hold, to pin one of your thighs open. you had properly drenched them and it made his hold a little difficult but he managed. “stupid girl, so eager to come. i thought you wanted to work?” he muttered harshly into your ear and you groaned, you could tell he was enjoying this from how rock solid he felt against your back. your drool had fallen out of your lips and the emptiness made your tears prick so you craned your neck to kiss him. he gave you what you wanted instantly, letting you suck his tongue and you bounced fervently on his fingers.

finally when he could feel your tears wetting his own cheek, he hammered against the fleshy spot against your sopping walls and a string snapped inside of you. you jolted in his hold, gasping against his mouth as you jerked away and you squirted onto the sheets in front of you. the sheets definitely would be changed now. you had never done it before and it felt like a pressure lifted off your shoulders as heat flooded your system. you squirmed as he continued to fuck you through it, pulling as much as he could from you until a puddle formed on your sheets. you were twitching and whining for him to stop. releasing his grasp on your legs and removing his fingers he let you curl in on yourself.

“that was so fucking hot, we’re doing it again.” he licked his fingers clean, humming at the sweet taste of you and you stiffened at the sound. farleigh might as well have been sucking a lollipop if you didn’t know any better.

“farleigh i have to-“you started to pick up your laptop, it had fallen to off the bed and he pulled you back into his lap as if you’d tried to walk out the door.

“i love you baby but you are going to lose your mind if you try to improve upon perfection.” he cut you off, tapping yourcheek to draw your gaze to him and you could smell your ichor on him. you found his eyes were sincere and it only added to your confusion. he could see the cogs turning in your head, his eyes flashed in amusement from how unaware you were. you were the smartest person he’d ever met and you had no idea. “you were about to cite Foucault right? i know your paper as well as i know her,” he patted your pussy making you wince, “trust me when i say no amount of time will make you find a flaw. let me distract you.” your eyes glazed over from his compliments, it was rare for him to so genuinely praise your intelligence since you were always competing.

“you mean it?” you let him pull you over him by your waist, his warm hands eased your hoodie off your frame as you looked into his eyes from above. you were lying on top of him, naked save for your bra and still talking about your paper. you would be the death of him.

“i’m serious baby, you’re overthinking it.” one of his hands cupped your cheek, swirling patterns of comfort into your skin as you found adoration in his warm brown eyes. you loved when he called you that, when he called you his in any way really. you both loved each other endlessly but farleigh was still so private and enigmatic you wondered if you would ever know him like he knew you. you could feel him against you, painfully hard and fully clothed. you were again overthinking, a new victim for your mind.

“i love you, please distract me” you resigned, resting your forehead against his as he unclasped your bra and finally gave in to the desire burning through him all day.

#farleigh start #farleigh catton #farleigh saltburn #farleigh x reader #farleigh x you #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start x you #farleigh start smut #farleigh start imagine

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junosmindpalace · 1 year

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Im in love with your senku x reader writings

They are absolutely adorable🥺

Ive been sick for a whole week now and i still feel terrible

It made me wonder how Senku would act with reader being sick and bedridden?

And Senku is just near her side, watching over her?🥺

Maybe y/n collapses during all the hard work in the stone world, and turns out having a strong fever?

Watching her fall asleep, keeping her tucked in, handing her water etc

I think they would be the absolute cutest 🥺🥺

thank you so much for your request and patience! i hope you were able to recover quickly (me and my horrid timing…)!

--! warnings: sickness, anxiety(?)

--> wc: 1k

The shift from living in an advanced civilization to the stone age was massive and required a lot of adjusting.

You were fortunate enough to exist in a time where everything you could ever want and need was easily accessible, from all the knowledge in the world at your fingertips to all sorts of items at your disposal. All your basic necessities could be easily met with a short walk to the supermarket.

So when all of that turned upside down, it was a challenge to keep up.

The petrification took a large toll on you when you awoke from your lengthy slumber. You were powerless to save the people you loved and who brought you comfort. Most of your time was spent attempting to accommodate your new living circumstances, physically and mentally.

Anxiety and panic was a constant in the back of your mind with so much unknown about the potential attack on mankind, and you were unable to soothe yourself with the hobbies you once enjoyed. Your physical health also suffered. Your diet had changed drastically, you were forced to take on a lot of labor in order to stay alive.

But throughout it all, Senku made adjusting easier by helping you learn everything you needed to know to help you survive in your new environment. The two of you worked together to hunt, build shelter and tools and fashion clothing. Senku’s determination and upbeatness despite such a traumatic life altering event helped keep you sane. You didn’t need to strain yourself as much when Taiju and Yuzuriha later joined the group either, especially with Taiju’s endless stamina.

When you and Senku split from your friends in order to establish alliances with other potential survivors, you came along a small village that also helped in terms of labor. You befriended and recruited many strong and resourceful people to help the both of you with your mission. Still, you were doing a lot. Your body didn’t have the time to gradually adjust to your new lifestyle.

For a while, you were able to push through. For the sake of your survival, work took priority. But eventually, sometime after Ruri was cured, you couldn’t keep hitting ignore on your exhaustion, and eventually you felt the consequences of this action catch up to you.

It seemed that there was always something to do in Ishigami Village, which was unsurprising considering your circumstances. It was a particularly harsh sunny day, the sun beating down at the villagers who tried, futilely, to rid themselves of the discomfort the sun’s glare brought them.

“Particularly hot out today, huh, Senku?” Gen panted out from beside his scientist friend, the two both sharing uncomfortable looks on their faces.

“It hasn’t been this hot in a while! We should make sure the children and elderly are alright.” Kohaku commented upon overhearing, putting a hand over her eyes to shield the sun’s rays and survey the villagers. Senku mimicked her not far away.

“We won’t get much work done under these conditions. We should probably-” Senku had started, but a thud interrupted his train of thought. Everyone turned toward the sound to find you had collapsed and lied unconscious on the ground.

Immediately your friends were at your side, the strongest villagers, Kohaku and Magma, carrying you into one of the huts in the village. After Senku assessed you, he realized to his horror that you had come down with a strong fever. In the modern world, a cold was nothing to stress over, especially at your age. But with the change in…everything, it was a lot more concerning, especially since Ruri had almost died of pneumonia.

Luckily, the Kingdom of Science’s sulfa drug was successful, but the downside was that it needed time to create again. In the meantime, your friends did everything they could to accommodate your sickness, Senku being at the forefront of it all.

Kohaku delivered spring water like she did in order to help with Ruri’s sickness, and Chrome, along with Suika and other villagers, would collect various supplies Senku advised him of to help with your recovery- food, materials for medical tools and the like. Senku stayed by your side throughout it all, making sure to assess you regularly and work to get the panacea done as soon as possible.

It was uncomfortable enough being sick in the modern world, but with the amount of pain you were in from your fever along with not being able to enjoy your old comforts, the fever took a higher toll on you than expected.

Senku stayed by your side to soothe you the best ways he knew how. He used his knowledge of science to create whatever forms of entertainment he could, and having another person from your time was also a comfort. He did his best to make you laugh and help keep you out of your panicked mindset.

At the peak of your illness, and when your anxiety was at its highest, Senku stayed by your side and watched over you until you fell asleep, sometimes lingering in the house or setting up his own sleeping bag beside. He convinced himself it was for your peace of mind, but deep down, being near you and able to quickly respond to anything alarming also helped put his heart and mind at ease.

“You’ll be okay, Y/N. You’ll recover from this, I’m ten billion percent certain of it. Get your rest.” He’d tell you with all the confidence in the world, and it was hard not to believe him when his words were so firm and full of certainty.

Senku would lean over and tuck you in, insisting that it was important that you kept yourself warm. He helped you drink water when you were too weak to do so yourself, and encouraged you to sleep a lot in between meals.

Your sickness put you out of commission for work for a while before the medicine was finished, and even after taking the medicine, your body still needed to adjust after having been used to more modern ones.

Eventually your fever symptoms slowly started to lessen, and through the hot spring water, food and other things, along with Senku’s assessments of your condition, you were back on your feet feeling reborn. Senku made sure to continue monitoring you from time to time, and told you to come to him if you were ever feeling down again, both physically and mentally (because as much as you wanted to avoid worrying him, his attentive eye and big heart always manage to see through you).

#senku ishigami x reader #senku ishigami scenario #senku ishigami fluff #senku ishigami hcs #senku ishigami headcanons #senku ishigami oneshot #senku headcanons #senku x reader #senku oneshot #senku hcs #dr stone scenarios #dr stone imagines #dr stone headcanons #dr stone oneshots

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painted-bees · 7 months

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part i

Hitting a cafe during rush hour wasn’t Raf’s definition of a fun idea, and he was well practised in the art of saying ‘no’. Yet, for some reason or another, that skill failed to find him when the wide-eyed little Portasound busker insisted on treating him to a coffee.

The streets outside Granville Station were abuzz with traffic of all kinds. The wide sidewalks were, at least, accommodating to the amount of pedestrians that relied on them during the city’s busiest times of day. The same could not be said for the roads as cars rolled slowly forward, bumper to bumper. Still, the ambience was manageable despite all the bustle. Only the hissing, honking noises of transit bus breaks would coax the occasional wince out of him in their random, unpredictable intervals.

The little Portasound busker, ‘Magritte’, kept up beside him in lock step. She hadn’t stopped talking since they began their walk together and, in honesty, he preferred it that way. She was a disheveled little thing, more than a head shorter than he was. Her manner of dress was as sloppy as the thick bundle of curly, dark red hair that flopped loosely atop her head. Her grey sweater was several sizes too large, covering her to the knees. With sleeves that hung far past her hands if she didn’t scrunch them in her palms. Black leggings were tucked into knock-off ugg boots whose soles had eroded so severely on the outer edge, Raf was concerned she’d roll an ankle if he made her walk too briskly. She smiled so vehemently as she spoke, that her lips rarely closed around consonants, making it difficult to understand her at times.

“–so when my dad was like, ‘you can stay here and work, or you can move out and do your music stuff’, I moved out. That was like…oh–almost three years! I was eighteen. I just turned twenty-one today!” She accompanied that last sentence with a joyful little skip that caused Raf to turn his head and watch her.

“Well, happy birthday.” He exhaled a small laugh. “Vancouver’s an expensive place to live, but house hunting here probably already gave you the full story on that.”

“Rent’s insane,” Magritte echoed his small chuckle. “But the weather’s way more agreeable in the winter, which is what I’m after. And the music scene! I heard there were tons of musicians in Van, and look–I’ve already met two in the first few hours of being here!”

“Oh, you’ll meet more.” The way he said it made it sound more cautioning than he intended and he diffused it with a snort. “Guess the music stuff must have paid off after all, if you can afford a place in the city.”

There was silence between them and Magritte chewed the nail of her forefinger for a moment. “It actually hasn’t, I’m not a professional musician by any means. I’m just really good at finding a lot of short term work and stuff. Sometimes it’s music related, but not often enough to call it a living.”

“Mmh.” Raf glanced down at her. The bounce in her step had vanished and he watched her chew on her lip beneath a knitted brow. With a shrug he said, “You sounded good in the station, all things considered. You stopped, you listened, you came in at appropriate moments, you improvised really well. The pieces I played weren’t really…great for busking…and demanded a lot more than what your little keyboard could reasonably provide, but even your rests were composed and natural. You didn’t drop off abruptly any time the melody brought you past the range of your keys, you played into it.” He smirked. “I’m not gonna lie and say we did a great justice to Paganini today or anything, but I was very surprised by what you were able to pull off. I dunno, seemed like the chops of a professional to me.”

That brought the bounce back into her step, though she continued to chew on her lower lip. Raf was content to see her spirits buoyed at least somewhat by his sentiments. He hadn’t embedded a single white lie into his assessment.

They arrived at the cafe of his choosing; a popular spot, very near to the station, named Caffe Artigiano. The outside seating was full up with patrons, but Raf hoped the inside would be a quieter space to sit anyways. Opening the door, he followed Magritte in. It was busier than he would have liked, but he couldn’t have expected differently, considering the hour. Still, one thing he appreciated about the place was that it did not play music. Only the sound of numerous quiet conversations filled the air. Raf gravitated towards a freshly vacated table in a far corner, and Magritte followed him to it. Her gaze hung on the coffee menu that loomed above the counter.

He waited for Magritte to pick her seat before gently offloading his violin case onto the seat across from her. “I’ll go order. Was it a latte you said you wanted?”

“Actually…” She let out an indecisive little sigh. “A mocha, I think. I want…choco. Oh, but–!” She dropped her duffel bag onto the ground before unzipping a side pouch and pulling out the twenty dollar bill that had found its way into her upturned ball cap at the station. She held it out to him. “With this! Please?”

He hesitated before taking the bill from her. “Yes, ma’am.” There was no point in telling her that the twenty had been his before it became hers. The thought was what mattered.

The line at the counter wasn’t long, despite the busy patronage, and Raf soon returned to their table and evicted his violin case out of the seat across from Magritte. Finding an unused chair from a nearby table, he pulled it up next to him and sat his carrying case on it.

He reached over the table to hand Magritte the change, and she stared at it blankly for a moment before saying, “–Oh!” with a bit of a start. She turned her palm up to receive it.

Magritte stuffed the money back into the pocket of her duffel bag. “So, Question.” She sat back up and looked to Raf. “You say you’re not a professional, but you sound like...you know…Properly trained, or whatever.”

“Mmh.” It was a predictable topic, but not one he wanted to stay on. “Or whatever.” He laughed. “Yeah. Parents pushed it onto me a little too hard. I’ve got the training, but playing it is a chore and I kinda hate it.”

Magritte’s eyes grew wide and rueful and she shrank against the backrest of her chair. “Wait, really?” She covered her face with the sleeves of her sweater and threw her head back with a guilty little groan. “I’m sorry, I made you play so many songs!”

Raf patted the air in front of him in a placating gesture, “No, no. You didn’t make me do anything, relax.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I did that to myself. I meant it, though, when I said it was fun. It was the first time in a long while where I actually enjoyed myself once things got going.”

Magritte drew in a deep breath, recollecting herself before tentatively asking, “Enough that you’d wanna do it again sometime?”

A beleaguered laugh escaped him, “No.” He had given her much of his time and energy already, and being asked for more put a bitter taste in his mouth. The arrival of his iced americano and her hot mocha couldn’t have been better timed. As soon as it was placed in front of him, he brought the drink to his lips and took a long sip.

Magritte sheepishly turned her gaze down to admire the little white hearts in the foam of her coffee before she started to drink it. She placed the cup back down but kept both hands curled around it. “Did you enjoy it when you were younger?”

“Music?” Raf shrugged. “I don’t remember. It doesn’t really matter.” His gaze turned down towards her duffel bag as he grasped for a better topic. “Is your main instrument the piano?”

“Yeah! It’s what I had access to, growing up.”

“Who taught you?”

“Oh, I, uh…mostly just the internet and stuff. My parents didn’t wanna waste money on it, and my highschool didn’t have like…a music class or anything. Just choir. None of my friends played music.”

“...You learned online?”

“Well, like…on Myspace and LiveJournal. Lots of people share what they know there, and I made some really good online friends who tried to teach me things. We’d share music with each other and do weekly challenges and stuff. It was fun.”

“So, self-taught, more or less.”

“Mostly. Oh, except–!” Magritte ducked down to unzip the main pocket of her duffel bag and dove her hands into it. She rummaged around until she produced a small mp3 player and earbuds attached by a chord. “There was a year when I was living in Montreal, my girlfriend was a jazz pianist. And then we met other, um…friends who taught me more in that one year than I think I ever learned in my entire life. It was her and a whole lotta horns. They all let me use their instruments and taught me proper technique and stuff. I think they liked watching me stubbornly struggle with it. In the end, I was only able to record one song before I had to, um, move on. But I’m still kinda proud of it. I dunno if you wanna–it’s instrumental and kinda eclectic, but I loved making it.”

In response, Raf extended his hand, and Magritte spent a second scrolling through her library of mp3s before stuffing the little music device and earbuds into his open palm.

She performed an excited little wiggle in her seat as Raf wordlessly placed an earbud into his ear. “Just hit play, and it should be the right song.”

Raf wasn’t sure what he had expected to hear. He was, at least, perfectly comfortable with listening and offering his honest input. He didn’t believe in ‘bad’ music. There was skilled and unskilled music, there was music that fit his tastes and music that really didn’t. But none of it was bad. All music created deserved to be created and allowed to exist–if only for the satisfaction of the musician who produced it. He was prepared to tell her that the best music she could make is the music she enjoyed making, even if it didn’t resonate with his personal tastes. He pressed ‘play’.

What hit his ear was an uptempo half-time funk sound carried on a unison horn line; crystal clear, well mixed, high quality audio. Right from the jump, the sound had a quirky, catching character. He fitted the other earbud into his ear as a sustained note leapt into an energetic, off-beat ska groove. His brow furrowed deeply as he tried to discern the instrumentation. The drum fill might have been digital, but the winds sounded far too dynamic to be synthetic. And there were…three of them; the two horns he couldn’t quite specify, and then a baritone sax. The horns took centre stage, confident and playful, supported by a jaunty walking bassline and synthetic, bubbly organ accompaniment. Despite its G minor key signature, the character of the piece was lively and a little goofy, smart but playful; it was simply–fun. A smile lit across his face as the melody modulated G minor into G Phrygian for the bridge section. The effect was a jesting ooh gonna getcha vibe.

He listened to the end of the song before he began to comment on it. “Very cool. Your jazz friends weren’t sleeping on their music theory classes. I assume the organ is you?”

Magritte shifted nervously in her seat as her thumb smoothed over the handle of her coffee cup in small, repeated strokes. “I borrowed instruments for this one and recorded it in…um, my girlfriend’s parents' house. They had a music room where I was allowed to record things.”

“You borrowed–right. But the horns..?”

“Yeah.”

Raf levelled a measuring stare at her.

“I recorded each instrument separately,” she began explaining, “It’s uh, piano, trumpet, trombone, and–oh! The baritone sax was played by Sadie, one of my, um…jazz friends.” She let out a weak laugh. “And then, like…a bass, I also played. And a synthetic drum fill ‘cus…none of us knew how to actually play drums.”

“You played each instrument? Learned them and recorded this song within the span…of a year?”

“No, just the trumpet and trombone! I already knew piano and bass.” Confusion must have been apparent on Raf’s face, and she tried to address it by saying, “It’s all digitally processed, so it sounds a little more–”

“No, I–I know that.” Raf massaged an eyebrow with one hand. “You’re the songwriter too, I assume?” His tone was a little more sharp than he’d have liked it to be. It betrayed his incredulity.

Magritte picked up her cup and eyed him nervously over the rim as she sipped from it.

“No, I don’t know how.” She sounded embarrassed. “I can’t read or write music. I just sketched a bunch of it out digitally first, and then–”

“Fresh compositions? By ear?”

“Yeah. And then I recreated it with the correct instrumentation.” She chewed on the nail of her thumb. “It works, I think.”

“That’s still songwriting. It counts.” Raf sniffed and leaned back in his seat. “I gotta be honest, and don’t take this the wrong way but…it’s a little hard to believe.”

Magritte’s nervousness dissolved into a flattered grin. “Yeah?”

Raf’s brow twitched downward as he tried to read past her demeanour. He had expected a more sheepish response, if not a more defensive one. His doubt wasn’t intended as a compliment, but if she were being wholly honest with him, perhaps it made sense that she’d take it as one.

He drained the last of his americano. “So, you’re not pursuing this professionally, because..?”

“Oh, I am!” Magritte shrugged and turned her eyes to the upper right corner of the room. “It’s just been kinda…difficult.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” It was a stupid question he already knew the answer to. Music was more easy to find nowadays than ever before, but discoverability still relied on knowing how to promote the work and get the right ears onto it. And, across the entire spectrum of skill, this is what everyone tended to blame for the inability to live off their–

“Money.”

“M–!” The response was so sudden and matter-of-fact in tone, Raf couldn’t stop a bark of surprised laughter from escaping him. He’d have laughed the same way if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head.

Magritte slapped her palms down on the table and leaned forward with wide eyes to state her defence. “Instruments are expensive, lessons are expensive, computers are expensive, software and sound libraries are expensive! Everything’s so expensive!” She slumped back in her seat, turning her palms over in an exasperated gesture. “If I could afford to go to school and actually like–learn music, and if I could afford to rent instruments and recording equipment and stuff, I could make more songs! I could upload like…whole albums! I’ve got all these doodles with my shitty midi libraries and they might sound actually good if I could just record them properly! But it’s been like…four years since I left home, and the only properly produced track I have to show for it is that one.” She flopped her hand towards the mp3 player on the table. “So, I just make my little digital doodles, and I come up with tunes that suit the sounds I have access to. I like it. I’m happy I get to make any music at all, but it’s a bit niche, you know? And I have all these other ideas in my head that need like…better, less…synthetic sounds. There are libraries that sound pretty convincing, but all the best ones are…expensive. And vocals are hard to record with the stuff I’ve got.”

Raf held up his hands in effort to placate her. “No, I know, you’re right–money. I just–” It wasn’t a struggle he had ever faced, and he couldn’t help but feel like a bit of a heel over the fact that he hadn’t even considered it as an obstacle to the extent that she was describing it.

“On the other hand,” Magritte’s voice took on a capitulating tone, “With the right skill, I should be able to produce bangers with whatever I’ve got, yeah? And,” she took up her coffee cup in one hand, staring into its contents, “if I was better at saving money, I’d be able to afford those really good sample libraries just fine, probably. I just like my sweet foamy lattes too much.” She sighed a little laugh at herself.

Raf let out a low groan of disagreement, but didn’t elaborate on it. “I kinda…want to listen to those ‘digital doodles’ you mentioned.” If nothing else, it’d give him an idea of how much input her jazz friends had over the composition of the song he heard. If the obvious compositional prowess flexed in that fun-loving jazzy ska piece were completely absent in her little sketches, he wouldn’t chalk it up to being just a fluke.

Drawing in a deep breath and holding it, Margritte reached for the mp3 player and scrolled through its contents before handing it to Raf. “You can just skip through these as you like. It’s all a little–” She wrinkled her nose and let out a grunt in place of any real adjective.

With an affirming little snort of his own, Raf took the little music player and put the earbuds into his ears once more. He pressed play, and immediately understood what she meant. The synthetic instrumentation was wholly lacking in dynamics, and the musical ideas present in the melodies begged for more colourful phrasing. As he skipped from one song to the next, he grew more frustrated. The compositional writing was good. Consistent with the first song he had heard, Magritte seemed to really love playing with eccentric progressions and modulations that were unconventional for the mood or emotion that the song was attempting to capture. And ever present in each little composition was this boundless sense of joy. But god, the instrumentation (or rather, the lack thereof) really, really held it all back.

As he listened, his lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, with a low groan that betrayed his thoughts, he took out the earbuds and handed the music player back. “Yeah, that sucks.” The end of that statement stuck in his throat as he sputtered to clarify, “Not the music–”

“Yes, the music.” Magritte’s giggle was one of genuine affirmation as she tucked the mp3 player away into her duffle bag.

“No,” Raf argued, “your toolset. There’s a lot of skill here, but the cheap synthy sounds aren’t doing it any favours. You went absolutely ham on those horns in the first song, and I don’t hear any of that in these sketches because it’s just not possible. There’s a lot of energy that is just…missing. Even watching you play at the station, yeah your keyboard suffers the same limitations, but at least in person I noticed you’ll even make use of like…the percussion of your fingers hitting the keys, which, you know…is dynamic.”

As he spoke, Magritte retained a smile and provided small nods before asking, “You like it, then?”

Raf leaned back, folded his arms and chewed on the question for a second before replying, “Yeah. I do. A lot.”

A lot.

There was a corner of his mind that begged him to get back home to his apartment and try out the melodies with an instrument that could do it proper justice. Jesus Christ, this actually makes me want to play the violin.

The realisation made his lip curl with a feeling in his gut that he couldn’t quite identify. “You know…”

Magritte, taking the last remaining sips of her latte, turned her eyes up at him with a little “Hm?”

There was a pause while Raf wrestled with himself. “I, uh…work at a recording studio not too far from here. Just down on uh…Powell Street.” He felt his jaw clench. There was no good reason for him to tell strangers about where he worked. There was no possible good outcome in doing so. Mentioning it felt too much like an open invitation for her to pop in at any time, for no good reason at all except to make things uncomfortable. “It’s called Hi-Note, and it’s got like…a pretty standard assortment of instruments to rent out and such. It closes early.” He wasn’t looking at her. Brow furrowed, he stared at the ice melting in his otherwise empty glass. “Swing by tomorrow night, after eight, and maybe we can jam for like..half an hour or something before I head home.”

He didn’t glance up to see her expression, but her voice was slow to rise to his ears. “..Wait, really?”

No. “Yeah.” What the fuck? “Really.” Unable to unfurrow his brow, he managed to at least turn his gaze towards her. Her eyes were so large on that petite face of hers, and her lips parted slightly, muscles tense with the anticipation of some kind of catch or condition. Or, perhaps she had picked up on his apprehension and was waiting for him to revoke the offer. For some reason, the idea of doing so suddenly felt…unconscionable to him.

In a small voice, she said, “I’d really like that.” The restraint of her response was belied by the way she wiggled in her chair. Beneath the table, her leg wagged restlessly like an excited dog’s tail. “Eight o’clock?”

“Mmhm.” Raf felt some of the tension in his browline relax as a slight smile passed his lips. “Let's see if we can revisit some of those tunes you have. Just–for fun. No recording, nothing serious.”

It seemed that Magritte could never keep a smile off her face for long, and once again, that broad, delighted grin of hers painted her features. “Yeah, yeah! I’d like that a lot!”

“Alright then.” Raf knocked his knuckles twice on the table like a gavel, before standing up.

As he reached to retrieve his violin case off the chair next to him, Magritte pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Hi-Note, eight o’clock.”

Raf favoured her with a lopsided smirk. “Don’t forget.”

“I won’t. I’ll see you there!”

He provided her with an affirmative little wave, but by the time she had realised he was taking his leave, Raf was already halfway to the door.

He heard her call out to him, “Thank you for the–um–everything!”

Looking back to her, Raf returned the sentiment with an appreciative nod before pushing through the cafe doors; exiting onto the busy sidewalk outside.

He wanted to get home before sundown…

To play his violin.

#Hi-Note #I'm not a very good writer I don't paint very well with words haha but this is at least one way to get the scenes outta my head!#rafael #magritte

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martuzzio · 10 months

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A Space Outlaws primer for My Reality, Yours: what you need to know

Read My Reality, Yours here

Hi everyone! My most recent fic My Reality, Yours is set within my Space Outlaws Hermitcraft AU, which has a lot going on: weird terms, Hermit lore, wacky sci-fi, and more. To help make the fic (and the AU in general) easier to jump into, here's a list of in-universe things to know! This post is currently spoiler free.

I'm most likely going to update this multiple times as I publish more chapters of the fic. If there's something in the fic you don't understand, let me know and I can add an explanation here! Conversely, if there's something here that you want to learn more about, I will happily elaborate in an ask or dm :D

My Reality, Yours hub

The Space Outlaws AU hub

Character backgrounds and lore

Non-MRY-specific character trivia

General AU ideas (Spoiler free!)

Admin: The leader of a political group of any size.

Common: The Universal standard for spoken language. Many people either speak Common as their native language or learn it as their second. As most things in intergalactic settings are communicated in Common, it is recommended for individuals who travel away from their home civilization to know at least a rudimentary amount of the language.

Comms: Short for communications. Comms are the technological devices people use to speak to each other, whether it be by audio, video, or text. Comm units are mandatory for all air-and-spacecraft. Most people carry a comms unit with them — all of the Hermits have comm units installed in the gauntlets of their space suits.

Dimensions: The Universe is split into three Dimensions: the Nether, the Overworld, and the End. These Dimensions are relatively the same size and lay on top of each other without overlapping. The Overworld is like our real-life universe (lots of outer space with galaxies scattered throughout), while the Nether and End are inspired by Minecraft (seemingly endless generations of their respective environments, though with much more biome/region variation). At the very outskirts of each Dimension, the exterior edges gradually trail off into Void.

Galactic: An alphabet used by countless languages across all three Dimensions. Common's written form uses Galactic, which makes Galactic the Universal standard for written language. Many people either use Galactic as their native alphabet or learn it as their second. As most things in intergalactic settings are written in Galactic, it is recommended for individuals who travel away from their home civilization to know how to read and write it at the basic level.

The Hermits: A legendary group of interdimensional outlaws. The Hermits are one of the longest (if not the longest) established independent political organizations in the Universe. They’re lauded for their range of positive influence despite their miniscule numbers — over the course of millions of years, the Hermts’ ranks have almost never exceeded fifty individuals at once, yet the group has majorly impacted countless civilizations from all three Dimensions. Because of this influence, the Hermits and its members are considered household names. The Hermit Trading Card Game is one of the most popular interdimensional games on the market, which several of the current 26 Hermits consider to be one of their biggest achievements in life.

The Hermit Craft: Xisumavoid’s spaceship and home base for the Hermits. The Craft is a massive outer-space-only ship that can easily accommodate hundreds of thousands of people. No one knows how it was constructed or where its ultra-advanced technology came from. The Craft is fully self-sustaining and includes areas like the bridge, archives, kitchens, greenhouses, the engine bay, hangars, machine bays, labs, personal quarters, and more.

Rifts: Portals that connect one Dimension to another. Rifts are the only way to travel between Dimensions. There’s a finite number of Rifts in the Universe so civilizations tend to cluster near them, making them important trading routes and cultural hubs. They vary wildly in size, shape, and color, so many of the most well-trafficked Rifts are given unique names by the locals. The larger and more important Rifts often have a dedicated space station manned by Rift Guards to help organize the flow of traffic.

Space suits/space armor: Interchangeable names for the highly advanced suits the Hermits and other space-faring individuals wear. These suits can vary wildly in appearance and function, but they’re all designed to withstand extreme situations — from the vacuum of empty space to intense combat. Many of the Hermits obtained their suits before joining the Hermits group, which is why almost none of them match visually.

Void: True nothingness, where nothing can survive. The Void is completely barren of everything (down to even the smallest particles) and therefore is impossible to inhabit or explore. “Void” is often included in swears and other exclamations. For example, “good Void” is a common exclamation of surprise, frustration, anger, etc.

#hermitcraft #space outlaws #my reality yours #my art #this post will likely update several times

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leqclerc · 4 months

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Who do you think will replace Hamilton at Mercedes? | Personally I think it is between Albon or Andrea Kimi Antonelli.

Hello! 👋🏻

It largely depends on what they're looking for. Personally I think Alex would be a good option. His Red Bull stint didn't work out, but lbr he was thrown into a near-impossible situation with little experience and was expected to match an ascendant Max who'd been embedded in the team for some time already, knew what he wanted and knew Red Bull would give it to him. Plus all the pressure from internal figures (ahem Marko.)

That was some years ago at this point and I think he's grown massively as a driver and a person since then. His time at Williams in particular is letting him thrive and flourish, and you can tell how much everyone there appreciates him, his dedication and feedback. You could argue the optics are favourable because he keeps getting paired with rookies, but regardless of that, I think he's shown he's a dependable team player who can hold his own. Imo he became massively underrated as a result of the short-lived RB era and honestly I'd love to see him make a comeback with a top 3/4 team. He's actually one of the drivers I would've liked to see in Ferrari... well, before the bombshell dropped and we realized Ferrari's taking their lineup to an atomic level ajsdkfg

Now, this might sound kind of wild but hear me out: Checo. He's out of contract at the end of the season anyway, and obviously there's the question of Daniel possibly making a Red Bull comeback if he performs well at the sister team (I'm still calling it AlphaTauri) and they want him there. So for Checo it might be worth keeping an eye on the Mercedes situation. He raced Mercedes-engine powered cars for most of his career before the Red Bull move. I know recency bias means a lot of people don't rate him, but he's still a solid driver, he has years of experience (and probably some RB tea), he'd bring in points, and Mercedes comparatively probably wouldn't be such a pressure cooker. Iirc he also brings some big money personal sponsors. I think he more or less does what Carlos does, but in more difficult circumstances (let's not forget Ferrari made several adjustments to their cars for his sake, some of them detrimental to the overall performance, and he got some favourable strategies. Red Bull haven't been half as accommodating for Checo imo.) Plus I would trust him not to meddle internally more than someone like Carlos with his story-planting shit-tweeting entourage 🙄 I think they could get a few years out of him, at least until they deem Antonelli to be ready or someone else they're interested in becomes available.

Antonelli is a promising prospect and I'm sure they're keeping an eye on him as a potential long-term plan for Mercedes. Whether he'll be ready for a 2025 seat...depends. Maybe, if he has a mega season in F2. Mercedes tends to be conservative with rookies—George was in Williams for three whole seasons before he was promoted, something I think he felt kind of bitter about. So F2 -> Mercedes seat feels kind of uncharacteristic for them. They'd probably prefer to put him in a smaller team, at least for a season, to see how he adjusts to F1 first. Look at how Mick's time at Haas altered perceptions. Just four years ago, a lot of us thought a Mick-Charles lineup is on the cards, but now he's not even a top contender for the Mercedes seat—at least, not from what I've seen personally. If they bring in an older driver for 2025 then there's likely going to be more urgency to get Antonelli promoted asap. Whereas if they bring in someone younger, someone they can maybe get more "mileage" out of, then they have more time to put Antonelli through his paces and see if he's the guy for the job.

Other names I've seen thrown out are Carlos, Fernando and—oddly enough, Hulk.

I can see why Carlos would be an option, but then again, the optics might look a bit...strange if Mercedes is "settling" for the guy who just lost the seat to the driver they just lost. Unless they don't care about that, or don't have the luxury of caring about that right now. They went from holding all the cards to being under some serious pressure. And I think they're going to have to consider what they actually want in a driver now. Personally I think a Carlos/George lineup would have the potential for fireworks, but hey, if I'm not invested personally then it could be fun to watch asdkfjdfk

Fernando would generate buzz as the only other old guard champion on the grid, someone who is generally considered to be of Lewis's calibre. Fans and media alike were super impressed with his 2023 season and momentum is definitely on his side. But he's the king of chaos and has been known to fuck over teams for his own benefit and damn well knows this is his reputation and openly embraces it. And I'm not sure Mercedes would want to take a shot on someone they would see as volatile in that way. I think they really like maintaining this image of running a tight ship, having things neatly under control, no one going off script (just look at how traumatized Toto still is after the Nico and Lewis years, how he swore up an down that he'd never allow a situation like that to develop again.) George and Fernando seem to get along well outside of work, they've sure been seen socializing quite a bit, but obviously being teammates is a whole other issue and this could get spicy. 🔥🧯

But tbh I'm not sure a move like that makes sense for Fernando—unless I guess Aston fucks up astronomically this year and he's fed up with them. He seems pretty comfortable where he is—chummy with Lawrence Stroll and with enough freedom to be essentially the lead driver of the team since, well, Lance isn't exactly posing much of a threat. I mean Fernando literally carried Aston on his back in 2023. I'm sure he'll be keeping an eye on the developments but right now (Lewis jumping ship, Mercedes bleeding high profile staff) it would seem like a lateral move at best, with potentially more to lose than gain.

As much as I don't rate Hulk personally, I did see this one suggested on Reddit and... honestly? He did just have a pretty good season and for him it would be a clear step up so he'd probably have less demands and be more acquiescent than someone with more leverage. If they want to just get someone in as a stopgap until they deem Antonelli ready, someone to pick up points without outshining George... Pretty sure he's out of contract at the end of this season.

But another interesting aspect of all of this, coming to light with the news that the Mercedes Benz Group didn't approve Lewis's long-term ambassadorship, is that allegedly they're losing interest in the F1 team branch of their brand and generally aren't willing to shell out on it as much because they've shifted their focus to other aspects of the motor industry. Iirc this was already a talking point in 2020, but of course the team was still dominant at the time. If they fumble the 2026 regulations I can see the parent company pulling the plug on the racing team (Andretti buyout?????)

#replies #tismtay #discussions and predictions #long post

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independentlifestyleservices · 6 months

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The Benefits of NDIS Gardening Services

The National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) in Australia aims to provide participants with the means to live independently. The NDIS includes core funding for cleaning, gardening and home maintenance to help participants maintain a safe, clean environment. One way that this can be used is to hire a gardener to perform regular lawn mowing or gardening tasks.

NDIS Gardening Services can include a wide variety of activities including trimming hedges, weeding, pruning, mulching, planting flowers and shrubs and maintaining gardens and lawns. Providers offer a tailored approach to ensure each participant gets the exact gardening services they need and want. This helps participants cultivate their own gardening skills, while receiving valuable assistance from professionals who have the expertise to support them.

Some providers also specialise in horticultural therapy, which involves gardening as a therapeutic activity to improve physical, cognitive and emotional well-being. In addition, they can assist participants with making changes to their outdoor areas to make them more accessible. This may include installing ramps, paving or handrails for safety and accessibility.

Other benefits of NDIS Gardening Services can include the opportunity to socialise with friends and family. Gardening offers a practical activity that promotes interaction with others, and it can also be a great way to exercise the body while reaping mental health benefits.

As a result, gardening can be an excellent way to improve self-esteem and increase confidence in individuals with disabilities. It can also be a wonderful way to meet new people and form friendships and networks. Additionally, it can be a fun and rewarding hobby that will continue to bring benefits throughout an individual’s life.

Getting garden and lawn mowing help from an NDIS approved provider can save you time, effort and money by providing you with quality service at competitive rates. Invoices are paid directly to you within 7-8 business days and all services are provided by highly-trained, experienced and registered gardeners.

In some cases, your NDIS plan can cover the cost of a gardener or lawn mowing service through your core supports category (Assistance with Daily Living). However, this will depend on your plan, so it’s best to check with your NDIS plan manager.

If your NDIS plan does include these expenses, be sure to find a gardener or lawn mowing provider on Mable’s platform. This will ensure that you get the best value for your money and that you’re not paying more than the NDIS hourly price limit. Our prices are much lower than other providers so your NDIS funds will go further. Whether you need help with rubbish removal, fixing a rickety gate or unblocking your storm water drain, an NDIS gardener on Mable is ready to support you. Get in touch to discuss your needs and receive a free quote. You can also track and manage your invoices in your Mable dashboard.

At Independent Life Style Services, our key priority is to deliver top-of-the-line disability services that focus on home care for disabled people, young and old. Our operations and perspectives are guided by a mission, a vision, beliefs and core values that focus on supporting people with disabilities enjoy a fulfilling life.

#short term accommodation near me #ndis short term accommodation providers #ndis cleaning services #ndis gardening services

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astraltrickster · 9 months

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The thing about access clash is that there's a hierarchy of access needs. Unfortunately, that hierarchy is hard to solidify into Simple, Statable Rules, because there are a lot of individual factors at play, but an extremely simplified version might look something like this-

"Not having this need met is":

An IMMEDIATE or near-immediate threat to my life

Something that WILL cause a major medical incident that PROBABLY won't be life-threatening but has a significant chance of becoming so

A long-term POTENTIAL threat to my life

Something that will cause me severe pain, fatigue, or other major distress in both the short and long term

Something that will cause me acute major distress, but with no risk of long-term harm

Something that will be moderately distressing at worst in the short term, but is likely to cause significant harm to my health and/or quality of life in the long term

Something that will cause a slight decline in my long-term health

Something that will cause me to be mildly to moderately inconvenienced or upset in a way an abled person would not

To an extent, we calculate things based on this kind of hierarchy of priorities every day for ourselves without even realizing we're doing it - for instance, many disabled people would be far happier and healthier in the long term (priority 6) if they didn't need to be employed or at least could find a job that wouldn't commit constant ADA violations, but can't just quit because then they'd lose their homes and more (priority 3 at lowest). Many others remain in constant financial peril because living on the streets or constantly having to e-beg hangs around priority level 3, but any job they can find demands that they compromise on priority 2 or even worse. Unfortunately, a lot of people kinda suck at applying it to interpersonal or systemic/society-wide clashes.

For example, let's talk about masks. The need to go maskless could be anywhere from an 8 to a 4 for many autistic people. Unfortunately, for immunocompromised and immunosuppressed people - of whom there are more than you probably think - the need to not be exposed to covid is a 1. Wear your fucking mask or find a workaround for being in poorly ventilated spaces with crowds. I am begging you.

Of course, there are other intersecting factors as well, such as how easy it is for the person on either side to provide that accommodation or find an alternative, how common the clash may be (and depending on the severity of the need and how easy it is to find alternative accommodations, this may raise OR lower its priority), how long the impact of the clash will last, and how important it is for any given person, disabled or otherwise, to be able to access the specific space in question in the first place.

For example, I have a pretty severe phobia of certain medical equipment. Some people need that kind of medical equipment 24/7. If all things were equal, if my phobia were maybe 10% more severe, this might constitute a total inability for either of us to leave our homes - they would be unable to leave their equipment behind, and I would be unable to force myself out the door if I knew I'd be unavoidably confronted with that trigger. So, we're at an impasse, right?

...except, I can leave my house, not just because it's not 10% worse, but because I'm not unavoidably confronted with that trigger - I can just look away. I can leave the room, or the store aisle, and come back when the other person has left. I can sit on the opposite side of the auditorium from them. It is much harder and more dangerous for someone dependent on that medical equipment to make sure to always remove themselves from my sight and the sight of anyone else with my phobia, partially because a phobia is invisible - it's rare that visibility or invisibility is inherently a make-or-break determiner in access clash, but it very much can be part of one in such cases where the trigger for someone's invisible issue is someone else's visible disability, because it means that in order to be well and truly sure they're not triggering someone, one of the people involved would have to avoid everyone in the world who has not explicitly "consented" to seeing them exist. They would not be allowed to exist in public.

Everyone has a right to exist in public. Someone who has a condition that makes them dependent on something that triggers me is not infringing on my right to do so; they are exercising their own. Someone with a facial difference is not infringing upon the right of someone with PTSD from a major accident that involved facial trauma to exist in public; they are exercising their own. Someone with a tic disorder is not infringing upon the right of people with sensory issues to exist in public; they are exercising their own. Someone with a colostomy bag or someone who uses adult diapers and can't (or even doesn't WANT to) hide them perfectly is not infringing on the right of someone with cleanliness/germ-related OCD to exist in public; they are exercising their own.

If someone cannot exist in public without allegedly infringing on your own right to do so, then they are not, in fact, actually infringing on yours. If anticipating your access need would bar another disabled person from public existence, risk their life, or bar them from public existence because it risks their life, then you are the one who needs to yield and find an alternative accommodation.

This is doubly egregious to try to dispute on social media, because...the block button exists. If someone's talk about their hallucinations triggers your own paranoia and delusions, you can block them. If someone's limb difference triggers your PTSD about your own accident, you can block them. If someone's body positivity has the opposite effect on you and triggers your own eating disorder, you. Can. Block. Them. You do not have to try to force them to trigger tag their own existence, let alone stop posting at all or even stop existing as a disabled person who is comfortable with and open about their disability.

It doesn't mean the one who needs to find an alternative isn't Really Disabled, but all people involved being Validly Disabled doesn't mean that all access needs are equal in priority.

#disability #serious tag

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saint--claire · 1 year

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Invitation to the Deep - Term Glossary

Hi Everybody!

I was blown away by people’s interest with Invitation to the Deep, and to continue sharing the love (and because I’m a nerd) I wanted to continue the glossary in a more readable form. The term definition overviews were really blowing out some of the end notes, so I decided to shuffle everything here, where I can make a nice tidy list. It’s in alphabetical order per chapter, because to do it any other way would have annoyed me.

As I say in the story, please, please take everything you read with a grain of salt. The story is fictional, some of the scenarios I put everyone in are blown well outside the bounds of plausibility. I don’t specialize in diving, much less tec diving, and my marine license has been expired for a good few years. Someone who has a metric ton of dive experience is J_Bailler, who wrote the outstanding ‘Thermocline’ in 2020, and whose technical experience inspired me to get my hands dirty with this fic.

I won’t continually reblog this post, but I will edit and update it each time I update the story itself, which will contain a link to this.

**I am apparently now editing this post with the final additions of the story, only to acknowledge that many of us have now had a crash course in imploding submersibles. I only have two main comments on this - the first being that I originally began writing and later publishing this story early this year, and the second is that the entirety of this story occurs less than a kilometer below sea level.

Chapter 1

FIFO - fly-in-fly-out. Usually applicable for people working mines, oil rigs, or certain other trade jobs where the site you work on is highly remote. You might work a 4-on-2-off schedule, which is where you’d fly out and work on site, staying in provided accommodation for 4 weeks, and then you’d fly home for 2 weeks before rinse and repeating.

LKP - last known position. Think vessels (or submarine pods) lost at sea, or who’ve sent up distress signals before become non-contactable.

Lucet Tenebris - an entirely fictional underwater cave labyrinth set somewhere off the Indian ocean, near Indonesia.

Ring of Fire - Too long to explain in a post. A very real and not made up geographical feature of the globe. https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/ring-fire/

VHF - very high frequency (radios used at sea).

Yamaha - in this setting, a boat engine. Noisy.

Chapter 2

Neoprene - The material wetsuits are made out of, to help people keep insulated and stay warm under water.

Chapter 3

Fenders - big squishy things you put between ships to stop them damaging each other if they bump together. Also used to stop boats banging into the wood/metal of marinas.

Chapter 4

Blood bent - a version of a slang term used to refer to decompression sickness (DCS) where pressure changes alter and form bubbles of the gases naturally inside human blood vessels. DCS can often cause air bubbles to settle in and around major key joints and cause people to bend over in excruciating pain, which is how it got its name, the bends.

Embolism - In diving contexts, a gas embolism or an AGE would usually refer to a bubble of air in the blood. This is really, really bad - it has the potential to shut off blood supply to major organs including the heart, brain, or lungs. There’s no short or simple way to explain how they form, put if you look into barotrauma embolisms it’s a fascinating matter.

Equalising ears - Underwater at changing atmospheric pressure, water pressure bends the eardrum inwards. You equalise this change by a variety of techniques, the same way you might in an aeroplane. If you keep going deeper and don’t equalise your ears, you run the risk of damaging them or blowing them out completely. Hurts like a bitch.

External airway - a measure of first aid and emergency resuscitation - if there is risk to an individual’s own airway collapsing or not being able to be maintained in the middle of an emergency scenario, intubation or an external airway implementation will be performed at speed. An intubation tube is semi-rigid -the aim is that when you’re connected to oxygen, we want full confirmation that the air is traveling down the trachea and into the lungs, not stopping in its tracks because the airway’s collapsed.

Hyperbaric chamber - would suggest searching for a picture. In a hyperbaric chamber, air pressure is increased higher than normal air pressure so a person’s lungs can pull in more oxygen than they would under normal circumstances.

Chapter 5

Klick - kilometre.

Neoprene ratings - Wetsuits come in varying thickness. You might see them referred to as a 3:2 or a 5:3 or a 7:5 - this would indicate the material is 7mm thick over the chest and torso, 5mm thick on the arms and legs. The thicker the material, the warmer you'll be. The deeper you go, the thicker you'll want it!

Chapter 6

Buoyancy vest - also known as a BCD. It allows you to control your buoyancy in the water, allowing you to easily float on the surface without sinking under all the weight of your gear, and maintain neutral buoyancy while submerged (so you don’t sink further than the depth you are aiming to go to).

Dive computer - a meter or device used by divers that measure elapsed time and depth during a dive, and use this data to calculate and display an ascent profile which will aim to prevent DCS. Most will also monitor real-time ambient pressure input, some allow for gas switching during the dive, other features include water temp and compass info.

Gas blending - To dive at the depths of this fictional reef, you can’t just use straight oxygen or atmospheric air. Gas blending mixes very specific concentrations of a variety of gases to create a breathable component. It’s very specialised work and you have to undergo highly specialised training to do it.

Tec diving - I’m going to borrow J_Bailler’s explanation and hope she does not mind, which explains it far more concisely than I can. The key differences between regular recreational scuba diving and tec diving:– scuba divers use air or air mixed with oxygen and generally stay at depths shallower than 40 metres. Tec divers use various mixed gases to be able to go deeper and to stay there longer. To breathe pure oxygen at deep depths can kill you. Technical diving also includes cave diving almost as a default term, because you need advanced training to dive in an enclosed environment that has a ceiling. In a normal dive, if something goes balls to the wall wrong, at least you can come up, whether you bend your blood or not. In cave diving...

Trimix - Put simply, trimix is a blended composition of oxygen, helium, and nitrogen, used on deep descents.

Safety stops - planned stops as you reascend from the deep to decompress and allow your blood the chance to off-gas the excess nitrogen forming, and hopefully prevent decompression sickness.

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Cleat - The metal, wooden, or plastic part that protrudes from a jetty that you tie off a boat to.

S&S34 - A fibreglass monohull sailboat, primarily designed for cruising and racing. For those of you who are interested or know the name, this is the yacht Jessica Watson sailed around the world in, at age 16.

Hope everyone enjoys reading! Let me know if there are other terms you’d like to see laid out.

#StClaire speaks #Invitation to the Deep #TGM fic #proof of how far this thing spun out on me

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mbti-notes · 1 month

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Anon wrote: ENFJ. I have an ESTP friend but our friendship is struggling bc we both want to be good frs but handle our friendships differently. We’re having to make exceptions for each other. We want to stay friends but worried burdening the other with our requests.

I value the quality of my friendships. I don’t check up on my friends frequently nor do my friends check up on me frequently. However, once every few days we’ll catch-up in a meaningful, long convos. The ‘N’ part of me really likes rambling convos. He doesn’t like catching up once every few days bc he gets skeptical of the friendship & thinks one day, I'll forget to catch up & never talk to him again. He prefers short, daily updates and that’s how his friends keep in contact w him. The ‘S’ in him really struggles to make him talk about his ideas unless it’s happening in the near present.

We don’t live near each other, but we try to meet in person once every 2 wks or so. The best times we have together are when we’re face to face but over text, our friendship feels ‘distant’? I used to give him more frequent onl updates to accomodate to his preferences but he'd give me dry, simplistic replies which puts me off wanting to tell him what Im up to. He admits he’s not great at deep convos but it still hurts his feelings that I don’t talk w him frequently anymore.

I feel like he wants too much of my attention and my ESTP friend feels hurt that I can go a few days without talking to him. How should an ESTP x ENFJ long distance friendship operate in your eyes? If you even think it can work.

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

I think a relationship can continue as long as both parties are willing to work on it, which seems to be the case here. Since the two of you have different "keeping in touch" preferences, there needs to be more acceptance of those preferences from the both of you. For example:

- On your part, you shouldn't be so put off by his "simplistic" replies. You're being too judgmental and not really seeing those interactions from his point-of-view and what they really mean to him, in terms of making him feel more secure about the relationship. Does it really cost you dearly to send him a quick text every day? Realistically, it doesn't cost you much time or effort, but the value to him is far greater than you're acknowledging. Sometimes, it's worth it to make a small sacrifice when the benefit would be much larger than what is sacrificed.

- On his part, he shouldn't make assumptions and reflexively jump to the conclusion that you don't care just because you don't contact him every day. Insecurity like that isn't based on the reality of the situation, and he needs to be more realistic and accommodating in his expectations. Long distance relationships are indeed more difficult to maintain, so one must accept that a price must be paid for the reward of a continued friendship.

Right now, the two of you are on opposite ends trying to pull the other to their own side. That's a "tug-of-war" approach that produces friction and conflict. What you need is a "middle ground" approach where you each take a few steps forward and meet up in the middle. This means both of you have to give a little and adjust your expectations. Compromise means that nobody gets everything they want but at least you both get enough to justify continued investment in the relationship. You basically need to hammer out an agreement that both parties can live with and promise to abide by.

#enfj #enfj relationships #estp #estp relationships #communication #compromise #ask

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invisibleraven · 10 months

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No me dejes la lengua atada

Reggie is in danger of failing Spanish, so his teacher assigns him a tutor. Unfortunately, Julie Molina hates his guts.

AO3 link!

For my darling @daintyduck99!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ASH! I got this vision of Julie teaching Reggie Spanish and it would not stop pestering me until I wrote it, and I knew you would enjoy it. The enemies to lovers stuff is very short, but it was a fun little twist and a trope I've never attempted before, so I hope I did it justice! Confession: I do not speak a word of Spanish, so Google Translate was my friend here. As usual, the Spanish is in italics, but a lot of it is written in English in {{brackets like this}} and implied to be Spanish so you don't have to suffer through translating half the story.

“Mr. Peters?”

“Yes Señora?”

“My desk please.”

Reggie let his head fall and sighed to himself. Being called to the teacher’s desk was never a good thing. Even when the teacher liked him, like Señora Torres did. He received a consoling shoulder pat from a few people in the class as they filed out, but none of them would offer to stay-they weren’t close like that. Curses his true friends being in other classes right now when he needs their support. He stood slowly, almost dragging himself to the front of the class, hearing the funeral dirge in his mind.

“I’ll be frank Mr. Peters,” she says in that no nonsense voice of hers, “You are in grave danger of failing my class.”

Reggie hangs his head in shame once more, but it’s not like this is news to him. Languages had never come easy to him, and unfortunately they were also a required class which meant his grade point average took a dive. He was supposed to have taken French this semester, which would have been fine with Luke to help him since the guy was a step away from fluency. But the only French class was in the same slot as his advanced Math and well Regie wasn’t giving up a class he was actually good at to plod through a language he could stumble his way through. So remedial Spanish it was.

“I know,” he replied, sure his voice sounded just a touch sullen.

“You are also aware that you need the language credit to graduate correct?”

Reggie nodded mutely, he was well aware of the fact, yes. It hung over him daily that he might be held back because of fucking Spanish. He knew he’d catch hell from his dad if he didn’t graduate, a GED wasn’t good enough, and no Peters had ever been held back or had to do summer school, so Reggie had better not be the first. “What can I do?”

Señora hummed, tapping her lips with her pen-the dreaded red one that haunted Reggie’s nightmares. Look, he was actually a pretty decent student otherwise, and the school had been really good about making accommodations for his ADHD, but there was little they could do when it came to languages. So that red pen that made his Spanish work look like the victim of a bloody conflict was no friend.

“I can assign you a tutor,” she finally said. “Give you a few extra credit quizzes, and if I see a marked improvement by near the end of the term, you can probably pull out of this course with a passing grade.”

Reggie felt relief at that, a chance was better than nothing. Sure it would be nigh impossible to fit tutoring into his already busy schedule, but if it meant giving up one D&D session per week to graduate, he’d do it. “That sounds great, do you have someone in mind?”

The teacher smiled. “I have a student who helps out a few days a week. She's a native Spanish speaker, so she’s probably the best option. I’ll have her touch base with you.”

“Thank you! Um I mean… gracias!” Reggie exclaimed, receiving a kind smile from her as he gathered his stuff, and went to the door, graciously accepting the hall pass she gave him, though he was only missing study hall. “Who is the student by the way?”

“Julie Molina.”

Fuck.

Reggie gave the teacher a weak smile and rushed off, and eventually found himself slumped over a study caddy groaning quietly. Why of every student at Los Feliz did he have to be paired with Julie Molina of all people?

Julie who was beauty personified, with the sweetest personality to match and a voice like an angel. Julie Molina who Reggie had been crushing on since seeing her perform in front of the whole school at the pep rally last year.

Julie Molina who utterly hated his guts.

To this day, he had no idea what he had done to earn her ire. Reggie could count one one hand the number of times he had spoken to Julie, and they were always small greetings or simple questions. Yet every time she glared at him with eyes so frigid it gave him chills, and her answers were always clipped and frosty. He really didn’t get it, or why her seeming hatred of him didn’t kill his burgeoning affection at any point.

He’s sure if he ever talked about it with the guidance counselor Dr. Butler, she would have a field day, but he’s been kind of therapy phobic since the last time his folks saw a marriage counselor and it only made things worse.

But he knew without a doubt that the second Julie heard it was him she was supposed to tutor she would downright refuse and he could kiss a passing mark-and his chance to graduate-goodbye.

Only the next day when Señora called him to her desk, she told him Julie would be waiting for him after school in the library.

“D-did you tell her it was me that she was going to tutor?” he stuttered.

“No,” the teacher said, narrowing her eyes. “Should I have? Because if you plan on being cruel to Julie, I can just as easily get her to rescind her help.”

“No! Nothing like that!” Reggie protested. “It’s just she’s never been exactly civil to me.”

“I find that very hard to believe Mr. Peters, but I assure you that Julie will be professional or you can come to me and I’ll find you another tutor. Just… give her a chance,” Señora said. “She’s had a hard year.”

Reggie knew that, everyone knew that. Knew about Julie’s mom and how it made her stop singing. How she lost her spot in the music program as a result. And gained it back with that pep rally performance, and now was the program's star.

She would be the one to make it, the one to be selling out stadiums and have a mansion filled with platinum records before their ten year reunion. Everyone knew that too.

Reggie nodded and shuffled off to his desk next class, dreading the end of the day, and hoping Señora Torres was right and Julie wouldn’t storm off after finding out it was him she was stuck tutoring.

Three thirty came before he knew it though, like the afternoon had flown by, and Reggie wasn’t sure he absorbed a single iota of data from his afternoon classes. He trudged to the library, and sucked in a breath as he entered, blowing it out-or feeling like it was knocked from him as he spotted Julie. She was seated by the window, sunlight streaming in and making her glow golden. She had her glasses slipping down her nose as she read a book, a tiny private smile on her lips.

And Reggie’s traitorous heart leapt in his chest.

He gripped the strap of his book bag tighter and approached the table. “H-hey Julie.”

She looked up and her whole face hardened. “Oh it’s you.”

“Thank you for tutoring me,” he said, taking the seat across from her.

“I haven’t decided if I am or not yet,” she said coolly. “Señora failed to tell me who I was supposed to be helping, and I never would have agreed to it if I had known.”

Reggie bristled at that. So much for being professional. “Look, I don’t know why you hate me, but you can either get over it or I can ask Señora for a different tutor. But you get to tell her why you refuse to help me.”

“You know,” Julie seethed.

“I really don’t,” Reggie replied. “I’ve barely said two words to you and I’m a pretty nice guy, ask anyone.”

“So it wasn’t you that defaced the Queer Alliance bake sale flyers? Or stole the sheet music I had out for my final performance last year and left some dumb country song in its place?”

That had Reggie’s hackles up. “First of all, if the Queer Alliance meetings didn’t interfere with band practice I would be at every one, because I’m bi, so no I didn’t destroy the flyers. Heck I even made brownies for the bake sale, so I have no idea where you got such an idea.”

Julie deflated at that. “But Jenna said…”

Reggie snorted. “Jenna Collins? Yeah we broke up not long before because of aforementioned being bi. I wouldn’t be surprised if she defaced them herself and blamed me.”

Julie’s ears turned a crimson hue, and her face took on an ashamed countenance. “I’m sorry. It’s just I worked hard on those, and when Jenna said you destroyed them…”

“You saw red,” Reggie finished for her.

“Yeah,” she admitted quietly. Then looked up at him again, everything about her unsure. “But what about my song?”

Reggie extracted his binder and pulled out a small pile of sheet music. “This one?”

Julie gathered the music to her, almost in a hug. “Why did you take it?”

“I didn’t, Luke did,” Reggie said with a sigh. “Luke, you know Luke Patterson? Us and our two buddies are in a band together-Sunset Curve, tell your friends!”

“I’ve heard of you, you’re pretty good,” Julie admitted begrudgingly, still clutching the music to her like a lifeline.

“Anyways, I’ve been trying to convince Luke to broaden our style a little. Or at least give one of my country songs a try. Instead he took off with it, and hid it. He’s an assshole like that. But also you know, my best friend, so when he saw how upset it made me, he went to get it back. Seems he grabbed your song by mistake and left mine in its place.” He gestured to the papers in her grip. “That’s really beautiful by the way, shame we never got to hear it. But there was no name so I kept hold of it in case I ever figured it out.”

“I didn’t keep your country song,” Julie admitted apologetically.

Reggie shrugged. “Eh, it’s okay, I’ve written tons more since then and Luke even agreed to let us try one at our next gig if we up the tempo a bit.”

Julie slumped her head. “God I’ve been so awful to you and for no reason. You must hate me.”

Reggie chuckled. “Nah, I never got it, but it never tainted my opinion of you.” He prayed that Julie never find out he felt the exact opposite of hatred towards her. He could deal with the misunderstanding and hope she would at least be a bit nicer now. “So… Spanish?”

{{How much Spanish do you understand?}} Julie asked with a smirk.

“Ummm… I only understood the word Español there. So maybe start from scratch,” Reggie suggested sheepishly.

{{Good thing you’re cute, because we’ve got our work cut out for us,}} Julie sighed.

Reggie stalled, because when he was trying to learn Spanish on his own, one of the few words he tried to learn were the compliments. And he knew lindo meant cute. D-did Julie actually just call him cute? He was sure his cheeks were aflame, so he kept his head down and eye trained on the flashcards Julie passed over. It was probably meant in a teasing, friendly way, not a flirty one. But it still made his heart zing, just a little.

They struggled through the next half hour, Reggie was sure Julie winced at his every mispronunciation and failure to roll his R’s correctly. But he soldiered on, getting through the basics and completing a worksheet Julie made up, passing it by the skin of his teeth. But he still passed, and Julie gave him a high five for that measly accomplishment.

Plus she did her corrections in purple glitter pen, which Reggie kind of loved. “Review that before we meet up again next week, and we’ll go over the next lesson then.”

“Rightio, thanks again Julie,” he said. He turned to go, but at the door he turned back, and went to her side. “I-I meant what I said about your song. I hope I get to hear you sing it one day.”

“Thanks Reggie,” she said. “But it’s not really my song. It’s… one I wrote with my mom. It’s like keeping a piece of her with me, even if she’s gone.”

“Then I’m doubly sorry Luke took it,” he said.

“I have it back now, so maybe someday… I’ll let you hear me sing it,” Julie said with a blush, and Reggie grinned before rushing off, sending her one last grin before disappearing.

Julie looked at the song once more, and cursed the way her pulse picked up when thinking of the boy who returned it to her.

The next time they met, they went over the worksheet again and Julie coached Reggie on the basics, urging him to try the sheet once more.

This time when she returned it, there was far less purple glitter pen, and a little smiley face sketched into the corner.

{{I knew you could do it Reggie, very good.}} Julie said.

“See bien I get, it’s the same in French right?” Reggie asked and Julie nodded. “What does mooy mean?”

“Muy means very,” Julie replied with a giggle.

“Oh, so I did very good?”

“Compared to last time, yes,” Julie replied, which was faint praise but Reggie would take it.

“So what do we go over next time? Another worksheet?”

“You’re going to tell me about Reggie Peters, what you like, and so on. You might want to look up some music terms,” Julie advised. “¿La semana que viene a la misma hora?”

Reggie cocked his head to the side and Julie muffled a laugh into her palm. “I’ll see you next week Reggie.”

He waved as she went off, and Reggie knew then and there he needed to learn Spanish if only to one day tell Julie how he felt. Now that he might have a chance of her at least letting him down nicely.

After he passed that is.

“

{{Tell me about your band,}} Julie said during their next tutoring session. When Reggie looked confused she gave him a good natured eye roll. “Sunset Curve.”

“Oh, yeah! We’ve been playing together since elementary school!” Reggie enthused.

“Umm taco… No, that's not right. Toco el bajo?” Then he mused, “Weird that the word for bass in Spanish is so close to banjo, which I also shred on.”

“Banjo is the same in Spanish ironically,” Julie quipped.

“Sweet!”

{{What other instruments do you play?}} Julie mimed a few instruments at his once again befuddled look.

“Piano y guitar?”

“Guitarra,” Julie corrected, and giggled when Reggie fumbled over the word until he could say it passibly. “Now you ask me.”

“¿Qué instrumentos tocas?” Reggie said, sounding unsure.

“¡Muy bien!” Julie said, offering him a high five. “Toco el piano y el violín.”

“The violin? Very cool.”

“So in Spanish the word violín can mean violin and fiddle,” Julie explained. “I’m learning the fiddle.”

“Well when you’ve got it down pat, let me know,” Reggie replied. “I’ll break out my banjo and we can duet on some sweet country tunes.”

Reggie was still struggling to understand what Julie said a lot of the time, but given her soft smile and the tinge of pink on the apples of her cheeks, he supposed it was good.

“Star Wars,” Reggie replied confidently. “I learned the word for movie at least. What’s yours?”

“Oh right,” Reggie chuckled. “¿Cuál es tu película favorita?”

“Oh nice job feminizing favourite,” Julie said. “And I love The Princess Bride.”

{{In Spanish Julie,}} Reggie chided playfully.

Julie gawked at him and gave an over exaggerated gasp. “Oh you did not!”

“I so did!” Reggie replied gleefully, then ducked the wadded up ball of paper that she had chucked at him. “Abuse! I’ll tell Señora on you!”

“Please, she loves me,” Julie replied. {{Now tell me about your favourite food.}}

{{Your Spanish has gotten much better}} Julie told him a few weeks later.

“Gracias!” Reggie exclaimed automatically. He would never be fluent in Spanish, but he felt more confident and comfortable with it now. And the last worksheet Julie gave him had almost no purple on it! Though a part of him kind of missed her silly little doodles that she made as she corrected his work.

“Coma siempre seré,” Reggie replied with a shrug.

“Como,” Julie corrected. “Now, let’s work on the oral portion.”

Reggie had to bite back a snigger at that, but failed, chastened by Julie’s eye roll, so he sat up straighter. “Hit me.”

“Sunset.”

“Puesta de sol.”

“Curve.”

“Curva, come on Jules, give me a harder one.”

{{You think I’m pretty?}} Reggie asked with an eyebrow waggle.

Julie snorted, and rolled her eyes. “You know you are cariño. But now I think I taught you too well so I can’t tease or insult you without you understanding.”

To be fair, he still didn’t understand every word she used-that cariño one she’d used a few times now, and he was never brave enough to ask or look it up, just in case it meant something mean or teasing. “Did you really used to do that?” he asked.

Julie shrugged. “A little. It’s fun when the student is first starting out. Nothing mean, just a test to see how much of the language they grasp.”

Reggie kind of deflated at that. He had hoped he was special, that Julie had only teased him like that. Maybe if he got through this course he could follow up her teasing by asking her out. He felt surer and surer each day that she might just say yes, given the blushing and smiling she did at him. Just maybe…

He didn’t want to embarrass himself by doing it now if there was nothing behind her innocent teasing though. Especially not with the test coming up and needing her help. “Let’s get this practice practice test out of the way, see how far I’ve come huh?”

“Okay, so how would you ask someone to go see your band?”

“¿Quieres venir a ver a mi banda tocar este sábado?”

“You know we don’t have a gig this Saturday right?” Reggie then shook his head. “Not important. Umm Estamos jugando en The Orpheum.”

“Pretty big time for you guys,” Julie said with a fake whistle.

{{We do actually have a showcase there in July,}} Reggie admitted. {{You should come.}}

“Tal vez lo haré cariño,” she replied with a smirk. “You think Luke will let you do a country song then?”

“At the Orpheum? Yeah right. He’s not going to take chances when we might get signed,” Reggie scoffed. “Besides, my songs aren’t that great.”

{{I wish you could see how great you are and own it.}} Julie said. {{See yourself how I see you.}}

Reggie didn’t catch it though, looking at her with that same confused expression he gave her at the beginning. So Julie just shook her head and took out a new worksheet for him. “Okay, this is what should be covered on the test, so let’s go over it and see how you do.”

The day of the test, Reggie was nervous. He had been studying for ages, and Julie had even given him extra tutoring over the past week. If he did well on this test, he should be able to pass the course, combined with all the extra credit work Señora Torres had thrown his way. But he still doubted his abilities, and right now every language, even English was a jumble in his head.

He read through the test first, just like he had been taught to when he first got his ADHD diagnosis, answering the stuff he knew first. The simple matching and feminizing certain words. That he knew back and forth.

When he got a harder question, he paused. Summoned the image of Julie in his mind, the way she’d scrunch her nose at him when he got a word just a little bit wrong, the way her voice would go soft when she corrected him. The twinkle in her eyes when he got it right the second time. Her tutelage, her belief in him is what kept him going. He knew this stuff, and he couldn’t let Julie down. But more than that, he couldn’t let himself down.

He handed the test in with a few minutes to spare and sucked in a breath when Señora Torres pulled out her dreaded red pen. He ducked his head, not able to bear watching her douse his paper in red. He just prayed she would be swift in failing him so he could crawl back to Julie in shame.

“All done Mister Peters,” she said.

The walk to her desk felt like a million miles, dread pooling in his stomach. He was trembling, fingers wearing away at the fabric of the flannel tied around his waist just to keep from clutching himself or ripping the paper from her hands. Yet she was smiling and when he finally looked at the grade, he couldn’t help but do the same.

“73? Really?” he asked.

“Well done Mister Peters. Seems like all that tutoring paid off,” Señora Torres said. “Now you just have to make it until the final in a few weeks and you’ll have that language credit.”

“Thank you! I mean gracias!”

“Don’t thank me,” she said. “This is all you and Julie. Thank her.”

“I will!” he replied, running out of the room. He knew Julie had Biology next period so he rushed to the science wing, frantic eyes searching for a head of curly hair and a gap toothed smile. Then he saw her-talking to Nick Danforth Evans, and his heart sank.

Nick was the school’s golden boy. Good family, good grades. Head of the lacrosse and track teams, a great guitarist, and a really nice guy. Of course Julie would be into him. Who wouldn’t be? And Julie? Well she was everyone’s dream girl, so how could Nick not like her back? And when he pulled her into a warm hug, well that was all the confirmation that Reggie needed.

He shoved his test into his bag and headed in the opposite direction. He was going to be late for Woodshop anyways.

He just tried to ignore the sound of his heart shattering into a thousand tiny pieces as he went.

Reggie wasn’t sure if should turn up to tutoring that Thursday or not. Julie had initially only agreed to help him until he got this last test out of the way, as during finals time she would be busy revising for her own exams, but would happily let him have her flashcards and worksheets to help him study.

So chances are, if she showed up today, it would only be to hand him over those materials and wish him luck. He at least did owe her a thank you right?Even so, he took his time walking to the library that day, not wanting to face the reality that this would be the last time he and Julie hung out. Sure, she had said she’d think about coming to Sunset Curve’s Orpheum gig, but that was a weak promise, and half way through the summer.

He doubted Julie would deign to seek him out socially after this. Sure they were no longer enemies, and she was nice enough to him if they passed each other in the halls, but they weren’t friends or anything. Reggie would end up in her memory as just some guy she helped pass Spanish senior year, and she would always remain the unattainable dream.

Only when Reggie got to the library, Julie wasn’t there. He glanced at his watch, he wasn’t that late, only a minute or two, and Julie knew he wasn’t exactly the punctual type. Meaning she didn’t show. “So… that’s it then,” he said to himself.

Walking away from the library almost felt as hard as walking to it, the weight of rejection sitting heavy on his shoulders. Reggie wondered if he was too late to join the D&D club for their usual mini campaign, or maybe he could hit the guys up for some band stuff. Anything to keep his mind off of Julie.

“Reggie!”

He turned, and there she was, out of breath, but still radiant as she ran to him, pausing to still her racing lungs. “Sorry I’m late, Señora called me over after class to congratulate me on a job well done. You did well on your test then?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, handing it to her.

“Wow! That’s so good Reggie! You must be proud of yourself!” Julie exclaimed, and handed him back the test.

“Feels alright,” he shrugged. “As long as I do alright on the final I’ll pass and get to walk the stage at grad. So thanks for helping me.”

“Are you alright?” Julie asked. “I figured you’d be more enthused.”

“Oh yeah, no sorry. Long day, kinda beat. Guess tutoring is canceled,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

“Well I don’t think you need me any more,” Julie laughed. “But I have all the flashcards and everything here.” She handed him the packet, and he took it with a nod, slipping it into his bookbag. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Julie felt deflated walking away from Reggie. The past few months she had felt like they had built a real rapport between them. A genuine closeness that she hoped Reggie would act on now that she wasn’t helping him with class. Sure, she could make the first move, but she had hoped well… she wasn’t sure that all her wishes for Reggie to like her back were ever coming true.

{{You’re wrong you know,}} he muttered from down the hall, and she turned, seeing him look at her with big sad eyes. {{I always need you.}}

{{What do you need me for Reggie?}} she shot back.

“Nothing. No...I know you have Nick,” he deflected. “I saw you guys together the other day.”

“Nick?” Julie asked, confused. “Nick is dating Carrie. He has been since like the seventh grade and wanted to get her a nice anniversary present. She and I are pretty close, so he asked my opinion. That’s all.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Julie rolled her eyes. Boys, seriously. “And even if Nick was single, he wouldn’t be my type.”

“Oh yeah, and what is your type?” Reggie said, a tiny sparkle appearing in his eyes as he stepped closer.

“Well, he’s about 5 '8, dark hair, green eyes. Likes country, and math. Terrible at Spanish-or well, he used to be. Still not great at picking up the hints when I flirt with him in it though,” Julie replied, stepping up to him and toying with the pendant hanging around his neck, then looking up at him. “So, are you ever going to ask me out or what?”

He beamed at that. “Julie Molina, will you please go out with me on a date?”

{{In Spanish Reggie,}} she smirked.

He laughed at that. “¿Saldrás a una cita conmigo?”

“Si,” Julie replied before pressing up on her toes and capturing his mouth in a kiss. Reggie tugged her into his arms to deepen it, holding her tight as he took in the sweetness of her, the way her kiss made sparks shoot up his spine.

“Wow,” Julie whispered as they pulled apart, her voice a tad husky. “If that’s how you kiss before the date I can’t wait to see what you pull out for after.”

“So where do you wanna go on our date?” Reggie asked, looping their arms together and escorting her from the school.

“Oh I know this cute little tapas place, really make you work on your Spanish there,” Julie suggested.

Reggie groaned playfully and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Fine, but afterwards I’m making you sit through at least one Star Wars movie. In English.”

“Fair trade,” Julie replied.

“But we can totally turn the Spanish subtitles on, if you want,” Reggie offered.

“Perfect.”

It was at graduation a few weeks later that Reggie finally got to walk the stage, waving wildly to his friends as he accepted his diploma, grinning ear to ear. It had been close for a moment there, but he’d made it.

“Feel good cariño?” Julie asked as she hugged him. God he loved it when she called him that-especially now that he knew what it meant.

“The best, no small thanks to you,” he replied, kissing the tip of her nose sweetly.

“De nada.”

“Break it up you two, we have a set to refine!” Luke shouted at them from across the quad. Since they started dating Julie had come to all the Sunset Curve practices, helping them work on a few songs, and even agreeing to sing with them-provided Luke let Reggie have his country song at the Orpheum. Luke had groaned, but agreed, and now Julie was all but part of the band.

Sure if they didn’t get signed, she had plans to do her own thing in the fall, but for now, she was having fun adding to Sunset Curve’s sound. Plus it meant she got to spend that much more time with Reggie, which no one was complaining about, even with Luke’s gripes that his aromantic self didn’t get it, but he was totally happy for them.

“Ready to go?” Julie asked Reggie.

“Just one thing…I need to tell you something. Something good!” Reggie said.

{{In Spanish Reggie,}} she said, eyes shining up at him. Because she knew what he was going to say, and she had been aching to say it back since after their second date. Maybe even before then, way back when he handed her the song. Or maybe when his eyes shone when she sang it for him-in Spanish and English during one of their tutoring sessions. Either ebay, she was more than ready to hear the words ready to burst from her heart on his lips.

“Te amo Julie.”

“Yo también te amo Reggie. Yo también te amo.”

Reggie grinned. “Muy bien.”

#my stuff #writing #fanfic #rulie #julie and the phantoms

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