#FUCK MATH BROO

[deadcrowcalling]

me remembering exams start next week

#they start on a MONDAY #in first period like bruh #at least give me a day to mentally prepare myself #and because of how the exam schedule is set this year i've got to do MATH first thing in the morning #bro it's gonna be like 8:00 AM #and i'm gonna have to do math #i'm literally like a few years away from being an adult and i still don't know my 7's and 8's times tables #like i know 1-6 but that's it bro #how am i supposed to do math at 8 in the morning broo 😭 #i am NOT finding the area of that shape fuck you #i want to be asleep in my bed not drawing triangles with the old broken protractors #i am not fixing to do math that early in the morning i'm sorry im not #it is 8 AM BRO i want a BAGEL and to watch reruns of FRIENDS while im half awake #not doing MATH #FUCK MATH BROO #i hate math #im yapping im sorry #yap yap yap #i hate math so much #i'm dropping out istg #but i cant #gotta finish the end of year exams for neil 😔 #do it for neil guys #gays can't do math #i sure can't #wheres cameron when you need him #can bro come do my homework #at least help me do it pls #that's all i ask #wheres a smart ginger kid when you need em

[peapod20001]

Ppl point out the clean lineart on my traditional drawings and I’m like “huh...yea you’re right..hm, uh. I didn’t really notice to be completely honest with ya”

#random post #like...I’ve been swept away by drawing oc and blasting sounds that I forgot I was performing the act of drawing #my brain is never really conscious while drawing really...I just get like. vague ideas about oc and a fuzzy image of what they look like #and what they’re doing/saying on repeat in my mind with no real voice #mmmmmmmmmmmmm uh. yea uhm uh. the only time I think about my drawing is when someone is watching me. or I’m drawing on my phone. cus drawing #lines on this bitch fucking sucks lowkey hshsgahdvhd. and the fucking COLORS I really just need someone to like. color things for me cus #I’m indecisive as hell and keep changing things. even when I have a color pallete for a character! I like! change it by the next drawing! 😭 #bro I #I’m incoherent a bit I apologize lol I was studying for test but turns out we don’t HAVE class today so no test.. but !! #uhnn gn mgmg hm I just wanted to get this one done with 😭 #is fine ig. I’ll just. do other class stuffs? I gotta write English final essay #make up the OTHER essays that are like. 3 weeks past due.. another assignment for English.. #fucking. MATH. and then studying for THAT final #AND WRITE MY FINAL FOR HISTORY #AND DO THE FINAL PROJECT FOR LEARNING FRAMEWORKS #BROO OH N O #I’m just rattling off nonsense here I apologize 😘 hdmsj

[arminsumi]

omgg i love ur writing broo it has my giggling, kicking my feet n shi and the fact that u also do fem black readers OMG I LOVE U anyways putting my appreciation aside, what abt nerdy freaky armin (if u havent already ofcc) like u cant tell me that man is FREAKYY (i ❤️ freaks)

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

A/N: you are the cutest patoodiest 💗 mwa thank u sweetiepie! and ur absolutely right UR ABSOLUTELY RIGHT!! yk what they say it's alwaysss the quiet nerdy ones!! 🥰

Pairing: ARMIN Arlert x f.reader

Summary: Min's the nerdy valedictorian with a freaky side 🥰

Warnings; 🔞 mdni, SMUT, this isn't fully proofread 👀, sub.Armin/some light dom.Armin, stereotypes (nerd, popular girl), mean reader, dirty talk, public sex (library, during class), facial, handjob (reader giving), oral (reader giving), light humiliation/degradation, bondage (blindfolding, tying hands), mean names (freak, loser), creaming in his pants, hair pulling kink, slapping kink, begging, toys (vibrator), use me kink (or whatever it's called), lmk if i missed some i was in a freaky state of mind while writing lmfao

♪ spice up your life come and get a freak

Min is the quiet blond boy that sits next to you every chance he can get. He follows you like a puppy from class to class, trying his best to interest you — the pretty popular girl of his wet dreams — with every nerdy topic that comes to mind.

Yes he's blabbing your ear off about the importance of maths, but really he's thinking about what what color panties you wear. Do you prefer lace or plain? What's your favorite position? Do you prefer backshots? Missionary? Full Nelson? Mating press?

You wouldn't suspect the school's valedictorian to have such a nasty mind.

He just can't wait 'till you give him a taste. He knows you will 'cause he's been so good to you, always helping you study for tests and even taking notes for you when you're skipping class. He's been such a help.

The first time is his fantasy come true; you jerked him under the desk during a lecture. He shuddered n tried to focus on what the professor was saying, but how could he with your fingers wrapped so tightly around his pulsing cock? :( The poor boy came in his pants and enjoyed every second of it, even when he had to embarrassedly excuse himself after class to 'tend to an emergency'.

He loves when you make his glasses fog up from how hot his face is and how heavy he's breathing. He loves when you make them slide down the bridge of his pretty nose, mouth hanging open while you make out with his cock in the library.

That all started because he asked you "can you k-kiss my cock?"

Now he melts and falls apart, desperately muffling his moans by biting down on his thin textbook. When he's close he grabs a fistful of your hair n tugs your head back, pulling you off his cock with a sloppy pop — starting to jerk himself over your face.

"C-can I cum on your face?" he pants, already deciding that he would regardless of what you say. He had to see his milky white cum painting your face.

"Oh? You're a fucking freak," you giggle sweetly, sending a rush through his body, "Of course you can cum on my face."

He absolutely folds when you call him a freak. He lives for the moments you expose his kinks, too.

Of course he's into bondage, why wouldn't he be 🙄 he loves using a neat silk tie as a blindfold... on himself, not you. He squirms and whines and pleads, "Let me see you, please."

Don't forget to cuff him to your bed and milk him nicely!

If you wanna get him achingly hard and sensitive for you, you gotta degrade him :( call him a freak, call him pathetic, call him a loser, humiliate him for cumming in his pants, tell him he's your toy.

And if you wanna make him cum loads then you should consider indulging in his slapping kink — his hair pulling kink — everything. He just wants the popular girl to pull his hair while she rides his cock like a toy.

"Please please please use me — use my cock like your toy n' call me a loser again. Please! Mmm yes yes yes I'm pathetic for you, Y/n ~ " he has the cutest high pitched moans.

He also begs you to use your vibrating toys on his cock :( <3

Speaking of begging... he is always, always begging. Pawing at your skirt to get your attention, eyes pleading for you to sneak off with your favorite loser so you can squeeze in a quickie before class.

Poor nerdy Armin just wants you to fuck him 'till his glasses slip right off, 'till his cock hurts, 'till you wring him dry of all his cum — is that too much to ask for?

#♥️ 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 — アルミン #🔞 #mdni #smut #armin smut #armin arlert smut #armin x reader smut #armin arlert x reader smut #armin x fem reader #armin x f reader #armin x reader #armin x y/n #armin x you #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader

[cryptiles]

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

RANDOM TEXTS — PART 1 / PART 2 

— details ; brothers x gn! reader ; head-cannon based ; 〘🐙〙 ; obey me m.list ; they/them/you/yours

— summary ; domestic texts between you and the brothers

— requests are open as of 7/9 , match-ups are closed.

— a/n ; since y’all liked the first part so much , i’m feeding y’all with another. this one was kinda unhinged , i kept wanting to use ‘ oh my god ‘ as a reaction but then i remembered theyre demons.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

LUCIFER

“ why does the class size have to be so big , i can’t remember everyones names. 😐 “

“ well , maybe if you stopped texting and instead focus on your work it won’t be that hard. “

“ jeez thanks for believing in me. “

“ anyways i need help , do you know this guy named Willya ? “

“ he’s supposed to hand up some overdue work today. “

“ Willya ? no , i have not. “

“ WILLYA PUT DEEZ NUTS ON YOUR CHIN BITCHHHH “

LUCIFER HAS BLOCKED YOU.

“ damn. “

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

MAMMON

“ MC ARE YOU IN ONLINE CLASS ? “

“ NO LMAOO THE STUPID LINK ISNT WORKING. “

“ OI SEND ME THE LINK I LOST IT 💀 “

“ NVM I FOUND IT , I ACCIDENTALLY THREW THE PAPER AWAY. “

“ DUMBASS. “

“ BROO WHY DID DIAVOLO TRY ONLINE CLASSES ? THE TEACHERS ARE OLDER THAN MY GRANDMA , THEY LITERALLY CANT DO SHIT THIS IS SO FUNNY HELPP. “

“ MC ENOUGH. LMAAOAOAOSO “

“ RIGHT HAHAHA LOOK AT STUDENT#1 CAMERA ANGLE , THE FUCK IS THATTT 😃”

“ MAMMON STOP MAKING FUN OF THEM I CANT KEEP GOING OFF CAMERA PRETENDING TO SNEEZE SO I CAN LAUGH. FUCKING HALT. “

“ IM GOING TO YOUR ROOM THIS IS WHOLE THING WAS STUPID AS HELL , WE’RE SHARING YOUR LAPTOP SO SCOOT OVER. “

“ IM BRINGING SNACKS TOO. “

“ AND OUR SHARED BLANKET 😼 “

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

LEVIATHAN

“ 😭 “

“ 😭😭 “

“ 😭😭😭 “

“ are you okay ? and why are you crying in numerical order… “

“ i’m not okay mc 😭😭😭😭 “

“ the human world had a pre-order bundle for ‘ insert long anime title ‘ and i missed it because i slept in. “

“ how am i supposed to be okay after that ?! “

“ it had a pc and stuff in it too 😭😭😭😭😭 “

“ i see. “

“ well i’ll let you know that i bought 2 already , one for you and me. “

“ REALLY ? “

“ YOU’RE THE BEST MC THANK YOU 😭😭😭😭😭😭”

“ STOP ADDING ONE MORE CRYING EMOJI EVERYTIME YOU CRY , PLEASE. “

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

SATAN

“ SATANN GUESS WHAT “

“ ?? “

“ I FOUND A CAT THAT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE YOU ITS SO FUCKING CUTE. “

“ ‘ insert cat pic ‘ “

“ ITS JUDGING ME SO BAD ITS MAKING IT CUTER. “

“ MC WHERE ARE YOU AS OF RIGHT NOW. “

“ I HAVE TREATS , TOYS AND EVERYTHING WHERE TF ARE YOU. “

“ UHH TBH IDK I WAS JUST WANDERING AROUND AND I FOUND IT.. “

“ WHAT ?? WHERE ARE YOU ? “

“ IM FUCKING LOST SATAN. IDFK WHERE AM I. “

“ STAY WHERE EVER YOU ARE WITH THE CAT IM COMING TO FIND YOU. “

“ HURRY PLEASE THE CAT IS LOOKING AT ME WEIRD AND ITS WALKING AWAY. “

“ IM MAKING A BAD DECISION AND FOLLOWING IT. “

“ MC , AS MUCH AS I LOVE BOTH YOU AND THE CAT PLEASE DONT FOLLOW IT. “

“ MC ? “

“ FUCK. “

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

ASMODEUS

“ bye 15/50 for chemistry , again. “

“ finna kms fr. “

“ mc its alright , half the class did like shit anyways. “

“ yeah but ‘ disliked persons name ‘ beat me , you know how embarrassing that is ? “

“ damn , that is embarrassing. “

“ thanks a lot for the compliment 😐 “

“ wellll at least you didn’t fail chemistry like her , i mean who ever fails that subject has to be hella stupid 🤭 “

“ … “

“ WAIT I MEANT MATH. “

“ NOT CHEMISTRY. “

“ SLIPPED MY MIND IM SORRY MC “

“ WRONG INSULT IT WAS DIRECTED FOR ‘ disliked persons name ‘ “

“ IM SORRYYYY “

“ YOU BITCHH 😾😾”

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

BEELZEBUB

“ have you tried mango sago ? “

“ that shits bussinnn “

“ mango sago ?? i never heard of that before , what is it ? “

“ its a chinese dessert ! i’ll make it for you one day 😼 “

“ that’ll be nice mc thank you. “

“ also could you help me open the door ? “

“ i’m carrying food from madam screams , i’m trying not to eat your favourite dessert so please hurry 😭 “

“ i love you beel , AND IM OTW “

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

BELPHAGOR

“ ‘ tiktok edit ‘ “

“ broo they’re so fineee and for what 😩🙏”

“ whats that song ? its been on loop in my mind but im too lazy to search it up. “

“ i’ve heard it everywhere but idk the name. “

“ in that case… should i gatekeep ��� “

“ I WILL BLOCK YOU BITCH “

“ I INTRODUCED YOU TO SO MANY SONGS “

“ IM PRETTY SURE ITS THE OTHER WAY AROUND 🤨 “

“ MY MUSIC TASTE IS IMMACULATE COMPARED TO YOURS “

“ PLEASE ALL YOU LISTEN TO IS TAYLOR SWIFT AND DEPRESSING SONGS “

“ THE BASICS BITCHH 🤌 “

“ STFU THEYRE GOOD “

“ YK WHAT IM GATEKEEPING THAT SONG YOU DONT DESERVE IT “

“ i’ll kill you. “

“ again ? at least make it special “

“ mc please stop-“

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧────────❅•

© 2022 cryptiles. please do not repost / translate my work and post it to other social media websites without permission , thank you.

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me x you #shall we date obey me #requests are open #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x mc #om! lucifer #om! mammon #om! leviathan #om! satan #om! asmodeus #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor

[whatmealsbetterthanvodka]

god i really don‘t know why i‘m trying to live in this house. everyone‘s so busy with themselves, they don‘t even try to be considerate. it‘s literally half 12 in my country, i‘ve been trying to sleep for the past 1 1/2 hours because i‘ll have to get up early tomorrow and write A FUCKING MATHS EXAM. everyone knows. well, my self-absorbed little sister comes home, jumps under the shower and starts blasting her tasteless music to the gods (my room is right next to the bathroom) and after asking her nicely and even a bit more urgent (i screamed from my room because i didn‘t want to get up, because that would’ve totally waken me up and also my mum tried getting a reaction like 15 mintes later), she just goes “yeah come in and turn it down urself“. like it’s that hard to fucking move your arm out the shower and press a goddamn button. normally she makes a fuss about wanting her privacy. so i got fucking up and threw her goddamn iphone in the toilet. hope it smells like my diarrhea and vomit fucking bitch.

i literally never wanna hear her say “OMGG BROOO UR ARMM, TALK TO ME WHAT‘S UuUuUP“ again, like “OMGG BROO stop fucking pretending you care about someone else than urself just because you can‘t ignore anymore that someone‘s not well“

[johnmeowston]

Why do I imagine Jonah and Christine meeting before SDC in a library and Christine is all mysterious and ghost like and Jonah is just trying to study with Jotaro. Then Jonah goes after Christine to find out if he's seeing things then they're gone. Out the door.

But then he sees them through the window and fucking goea after them only for them to mysteriously disappear on the way.

And Joot is just like, "get your ass back here! The bitch told me not to let you fail math again!"

bROO,,, that sounds,, indeed pog,,, bro,,, why must you be so good at writing n’ stuff 😌💖

[artificialqueens]

Gloxalias and other ways to say I love you (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: Brooke works in a hospital gift shop. Vanessa is the mom of a young cancer patient who really loves flowers. It’s no match made in Heaven, but they might just be able to create their own.

This fic has the potential to be hugely, massively triggering. There’s grief, mentions of death, descriptions of anxiety, and explicit content to do with childhood cancer, surgery, and there’s a lot of medical content. PLEASE take care of yourselves.

Thank you Holtz for beta-ing this and for being a wonderful human. Also thank you to all the folks on AO3 who shared their stories with me. The responses from everyone who’ve been touched by cancer in some way have been truly humbling, and I hope readers here on AQ will find it resonates with them too.

The first time Brooke sees Vanessa, she’s combing through the hospital gift shop looking for flowers.

“Are you sure your unit allows flowers?” Brooke asks when the woman reaches the counter with an armful of daisies.

“Oh, um… No.” she looks taken aback by the question, like it was one she’s never considered. “You even allowed to ask me that? Consternationality an’ all that?”

Brooke is unable to keep herself from cracking a little smile. “Nah, confidentiality only applies to doctors. I’m just a lowly cashier,” she sighs with a fake forelorness that makes the other woman laugh, a loud, scratchy bark that makes everyone within fifty feet of the gift shop turn around in alarm.

Brooke thinks it’s infectious.

“Seriously though, mama, I ain’t actually sure.” the woman shrugs after they both finally calm down. “You know if the pod—peda—pom—the kids’ ward lets people have flowers? My kid loves ‘em.”

Brooke doesn’t, and she tells the woman so. For a moment, from the way the bright, lively twinkle in the woman’s eyes dies down a little, Brooke is afraid the woman might start to cry, or even yell. She’s seen it before; distraught family members upset at the exorbitant pricing of stuffed animals or the fact that their loved one’s favourite snack isn’t available taking it out on her, screaming until their voices are hoarse and their rage is subdued by a peace offering of a free purchase of any one item they want. Brooke isn’t supposed to do it, but it saves her jugular, and she can get the desperation and pent-up grief they’re feeling.

She’s about to offer the same consolation prize to this woman when the woman collects herself unexpectedly, letting out a sigh as her face smooths over into something that’s almost a smile.

“Alright, Mary. I’ll check with the nurse and come back if I can.”

“Brooke.” Brooke says, almost inaudibly, as the woman turns to leave.

“Huh?” the woman turns around, a confused frown knitting itself onto her face.

“Brooke. Not Mary. My name’s Brooke.” She blushes the minute the words are out of her mouth, realizing how nitpicky and stupid she must sound. But if the woman thinks so, she doesn’t show it; in fact, she smiles brightly, the sparkle returning to her eyes as she laughs again, making Brooke relax and laugh a little, too.

“Alright then, miss Brooke-not-Mary. See you soon as the nurses tell me I can come back down and pick up these flowers.”

“Alright then,” Brooke nods, an inexplicable thread of hope weaving through her chest, “See you around…”

“Vanessa. But my friends call me Vanjie.”

—

Vanessa comes back down a few days later, a triumphant smile spread across her face as she marches straight up to the counter.

“Guess who can buy flowers, bitch!”

Brooke looks up from the stolen magazine she’s not supposed to be reading and grins.

“I was hoping you’d come back.”

Vanessa arches a brow. “You flirtin’ with me, Mary?”

Brooke almost chokes on her tongue.

“I’m—no, I’m so sorry, I’m not—“

“Relax,” Vanessa chuckles, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just jokin’, I ain’t mean nothin’.”

Brooke can’t figure out why she feels a little disappointed at the words, nor why Vanessa’s voice seems to hold the same feeling.

Or maybe she’s just imagining it.

Nonetheless, Vanessa circles the flower section for about five minutes before returning to Brooke with the same armful of daisies she had picked out yesterday. Only this time, there are twice the amount, such that the brunette’s face is almost completely hidden behind their petals.

“You good?” Brooke laughs as Vanessa drops the flowers onto the counter with a huff.

“Just ring ‘em up, mama.” Vanessa rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the little smile she’s clearly trying not to crack.

Brooke starts to do just that, and soon the only sound that fills the room is the rhythmic beeping of her scanner.

—

“So… your kid really likes daisies, huh?” Brooke ventures the next day, when Vanessa was back with the same armful of flowers. The younger woman just blinks.

“I mean, they like most kinds of ‘em, I just don’t wanna fuck up, y’know? I been reading up on all that petal-talk shit, I ain’t want to get them somethin’ that means divorce when I’m tryna make them feel better. I know daisy means happy shit, so that’s what imma stick to.”

Brooke’s heart softens. She’s been working at the gift shop for about five years now, and she’s seen countless parents blow through looking for something to either get their kids or pass the time while trying not to worry about them. She’s never met a mother so hung up on details that she’d worry right down to the hidden meanings of the flowers she’s buying. It’s downright adorable, and even though she probably shouldn’t, she can’t help but get involved.

“Y’know, I used to be into flower language myself.” She shifts on her feet, suddenly acutely aware of how her suggestion could be taken. And, just as she feared, Vanessa laughs.

“There you go, flirtin’ with me again.” Vanessa winks, still giggling as she watches Brooke’s face go crimson. “Tell you what, I gotta go ‘cause my kid’s got an MRI, but imma be back tomorrow, an’ you can teach me all about that daisy tulip pussyfoot mumble-jumble. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.” Brooke smiles.

For some reason, even after she gets home that night, her body is still buzzing with nerves and something that feels suspiciously like excitement.

—

As it turns out, Vanessa isn’t just back the next day—she’s back the day after that, and the day after that, and so on for the rest of the week. At first, they stick to flowers; Brooke runs through every plant in the gift shop’s small collection, rattling off any fact she thinks Vanessa might find interesting.

“You know, even though tulips are commonplace now, in the 1600s, these things were actually more valuable than gold in the Netherlands. Isn’t that wild?”

“I actually read that the juice from bluebell flowers can be used to make glue. See how sticky it is?”

“Orchids are actually my favourite flowers–Did you know that they don’t even need soil to grow? They can get nutrients from the air!”

Vanessa always listens with intent, nodding and smiling in a way that Brooke can tell shows she’s genuinely interested.

Slowly, they get to talking more, Vanessa hanging by the counter long after she’s traded a creased wad of fives for a new vase or packets of plant food. Sometimes, she doesn’t buy anything at all, only stands across from Brooke, or drags her over to the flower section to talk, the perfumy smell of pollen tickling at their noses as they trade snippets of their life stories.

Vanessa is a fashion designer who works part-time for a swimsuit company, part-time on her own small business designing adaptive clothing for disabled people of all ages. Vanessa’s kid, Frances, is twelve years old and loves soccer, flowers, and their pet frog, Bertha. They’re in the seventh grade but doing math at a grade eight level, and they had come out as non-binary when they were ten, the same year they were diagnosed with a tumour lodged in their occipital lobe. Vanessa and Frances were Catholic, and even though cancer, transness, and faith were difficult to reconcile, the chaplain at the hospital was fearless and the two of them had managed.

Vanessa had been married before, but he had died of the same illness that Frances is struggling with now, long before Frances even knew him. They don’t remember him now, and for that, Vanessa is grateful.

“I still haven’t told them,” Vanessa shrugs through a noseful of baby’s breath. “I don’t want them thinkin’ that they’re goin’ the same way. It’s been two years now an’ the cancer’s gonna be gone after this last round of chemo and then their resection, I can feel it. I don’t want them worryin’ about how their daddy didn’t get the same chance.”

Vanessa leaves that day with an armful of violet chrysanthemums and a weight lifted off her shoulders.

–

“I can’t tell you how nice it is you don’t pity me.” Vanessa says the next day.

“Mm, what do you mean?” Brooke frowns as she deadheads a pot of violets that nobody’s buying.

“I can tell. Whenever I tell people it’s my kid I’m here for, they get all sappy, an’ tell me they’ll pray for me. An’ it’s nice and all, but it gets old real quick, you know what I’m saying?”

Brooke does. She’s seen it too many times before not to. It’s one of the reasons only she works at the gift shop now; other than the fact that it’s stocked by a rotating parade of high schoolers and a few well-intentioned volunteers on her days off, she’s the only person who’s ever been able to shut that pity off. Most of the time, it’s a survival mechanism.

With Vanessa, though, it comes easier than that.

“You don’t need my pity.” Brooke shrugs. “You need this pot of violets more.” she kicks the massive pot over to where Vanessa is kneeling, and relishes in the barking laugh that follows.

Everyone in the lobby hears Vanessa’s laugh so often now that no one turns snaps to attention at its melody anymore.

And as for Brooke, it’s become one of her favourite sounds.

–

The date of Frances’ resection approaches far too quickly, and the closer it gets, the more Vanessa asks to hear about Brooke’s life.

“Well, what do you want to know?” Brooke passes the illegally-opened bag of maltesers that she and Vanessa have been sharing into the smaller woman’s hands.

“I dunno.” Vanessa wiggles on Brooke’s stool, a spare volunteer vest that’s far too big for her framing her hunched-over form. She’s not supposed to be wearing it, not even supposed to be behind the counter, but at this point, nobody would know the difference, and Vanessa needs the shelter. “Tell me how you got into flowers, an’ how come you ain’t a florist.”

“I am one, technically.” Brooke pops another malteser into her mouth and chews casually. “It’s just hard to get work in a flower shop these days. I’d save up to open my own, but…”

“This job ain’t pay well.” Vanessa nods. “I can tell you kinda like it here, though.”

Brooke shrugs. “Some people collect stuffed animals, I collect stories.”

Vanessa looks at her with an expression she can’t quite decipher, but dares to hope means something good. Her hopes are realized when Vanessa’s face smooths out, her voice suddenly gentle.

“I bet you got lots of interesting stories yourself, huh, miss Brooke?”

Brooke can feel her face grow hot, and hopes to God she doesn’t look as flustered as she feels. Taking a deep breath and pulling herself together, she forces out a joke. “Wow, now who’s flirting with me?”

Vanessa arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t protest. In fact, she only hums as she pops the last malteser in her mouth, gets up, and walks away, a swing in her hips, twinkle in her eye, and stolen volunteer vest still hanging off her shoulders.

–

“Tell me more about you.”

Brooke is locking up the shop when she hears the telltale scratch of Vanessa’s voice behind her.

“Oh, hey.” she smiles reflexively, the muscles in her face so used to stretching into a grin when Vanessa’s around now that it feels second-nature. “I’m actually just about to close–”

“I’m not tryna buy anything.” Vanessa shakes her head. “I wanna… I just… Please. The third floor Tim’s is twenty-four hours, let me buy you a coffee or somethin’.”

The realization hits Brooke in the chest before she can feel any sort of celebration at the suggestion.

It’s April twenty-fourth.

The evening before Frances’ surgery.

“Okay.” Brooke nods, “Let’s go get coffee.”

–

Brooke can tell that Vanessa doesn’t drink coffee much from the way her hands start to shake about halfway through her first large triple-triple. Or maybe she’s just that nervous; either way, when Brooke offers her hand, Vanessa takes it without hesitation.

Their fingers knit together almost too comfortably, and Brooke pretends not to notice Vanessa’s blush as the warmth of Brooke’s hand connects with the cold sweat against her own.

It’s just a comfort gesture, Brooke tells herself, but from the way Vanessa grips back, soft and natural and like her hand has found its way home, she’s not sure she believes it.

They talk for hours, bouncing from topics like Brooke’s favourite childhood TV shows to how she used to dance to her top five role models. At some point, they run out of things to talk about, but rather than settle into silence, they lapse into a spontaneous game of truth or dare, letting swigs of even more coffee keep score as they trade escalating challenges between one another.

At first, the questions and dares are innocent enough. Vanessa asks Brooke her favourite hockey team, Brooke dares Vanessa to try to throw a balled-up napkin into the trash from her seat at the table. At some point, though, when they’re both full up on coffee and their box of forty timbits is running low, things take a different turn.

“Truth.” Brooke nibbles on one of the last sourcream glazed in the box, watching Vanessa intently. She’s expecting another commonplace question, something boring and by-the-book, but then Vanessa pauses, chewing her lip.

“What is it, Ness?” Brooke prompts. Vanessa exhales deeply in response.

“Are you single right now?” Brooke’s heart stops as Vanessa spits out the question, her eyes locked on Brooke’s face and anxiously searching for an answer in her expression.

It’s nothing; it’s probably nothing. Vanessa’s just trying to make conversation, that’s all. Their connection, their jokes about flirting, Vanessa’s hand still stuck intertwined with Brooke’s–it’s all just two women brought together by an unfortunate circumstance, two women who have become friends, no matter how much Brooke wants it to be more. Vanessa’s different. Vanessa doesn’t want the same thing as Brooke. She can’t want the same thing as Brooke. She’s a mom, an amazing, fearless, talented working mom, and Brooke runs a hospital gift shop. Vanessa is fierce and passionate, and Brooke sells flowers and candy while watching her life go by. There’s no way Vanessa is asking for the reason Brooke wants her to be. Brooke shouldn’t get her hopes up.

She can’t help but get her hopes up as she answers with a quiet, hopeful, “Yeah. I’m single. Yeah.”

She can’t help but have her hopes melt into relief when Vanessa smiles.

“Your turn.” Vanessa’s grip tightens on Brooke’s hand, and the sparkle in her eyes, that beautiful fucking sparkle that always seems to feel like it’s just for Brooke, is somehow incredibly reassuring. Encouraging.

Almost like a dare.

Brooke takes a deep breath, and then she takes a chance.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why do you want to know if I’m single or not?”

There’s a beat, and Brooke falters, an apology readying itself on her tongue. Before she can completely lose her nerve, though, Vanessa stands up, and then she’s crossing around the table, walking towards Brooke, and then she’s leaning down, she’s leaning down with her hands cradling Brooke’s face, and–

Oh.

Brooke’s eyes flutter closed as she leans into the kiss, her thoughts fading away as everything becomes focused on the feeling of Vanessa’s lips against hers, soft and wanting and tinged with the bitter taste of dark roast that’s been mixed with too much sugar. And when Brooke kisses back, Vanessa sighs just a little, her thumb instinctively moving forward to stroke against Brooke’s cheek, and Brooke finds herself wishing that the moment will last forever.

But eventually they separate, and even when they do, Brooke is still buzzing with nerves and happiness and, most of all, relief. Relief that Vanessa likes her, that Vanessa likes her back , likes her back enough to kiss her. Relief that she’s not the only one that the kiss left absolutely breathless, and that she has the foresight to push back a little in her chair so that Vanessa can collapse onto her lap, relaxing against Brooke’s still-pounding heart.

Relief that not a moment later, Vanessa kisses her again.

“Wow.” Brooke mutters against Vanessa’s lips.

Vanessa’s mouth is too busy to answer back.

Brooke doesn’t leave the hospital that night–they’re too busy talking, giggling, and kissing some more, the weight of Vanessa’s body on top of Brooke’s keeping her awake and content until dawn.

–

Vanessa comes in a little later than usual that morning, but when she does, she’s not alone.

“You must be Frances!” Brooke exclaims as she bounds towards a little kid whose arm is interlocked with Vanessa’s, the hospital gown and cover-up robe they’re wearing billowing around them and almost sloping onto the white cane they hold in front of themselves. “I’m Brooke, I work here at the gift shop. I’m a friend of your mom’s.”

“No you’re not,” Frances smiles wryly in an expression that looks remarkably like their mother’s, “You two kissed last night, my mom told me.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Vanessa blushes deep red as she shushes her child, “Brooke, we came by to see the flowers before Frances’ surgery.”

“I came to meet you, too, but the flowers are a good bonus.” Frances adds, and this time, Vanessa joins in the laughter.

“You’re just like your mom, you know that?” Brooke jokes, sticking her tongue out at Vanessa when she gets a silently-mouthed fuck off in response.

But still, Vanessa is smiling, and Brooke’s heart picks up a few beats.

Vanessa told Frances about Brooke.

And Frances is eager to meet her.

“Okay, well, if I swap places with your mom, I can take you to where the flowers are.” The minute Brooke suggests it, she’s seized with anxiety–what if that’s too much too soon, and she breaks the budding camaraderie between herself and Frances? What if Vanessa hates her because of it?–but Frances only smiles and starts to wriggle free from their mom’s grip.

“Sounds good.”

Within a few moments, Frances is leaning down to trace their hands over the petals, leaves, and stems of the plants around themselves, breathing in their smell and rattling off theories as to which plant is which.

“Okay, this is definitely a rose.” they say matter of factly, carefully tracing their fingers along the flower’s thorns so as not to prick themselves.

“Did you know that the world’s oldest rose is 1000 years old?” Brooke leans down, tentatively placing a hand on Frances’ shoulder and sighing with relief when the child doesn’t shrink away. Instead, they grab a handful of the flowers perched next to the roses and shove them excitedly into Brooke’s face.

“Carnations.” they state proudly, and Brooke smiles. Before she can tell Frances that they’re absolutely correct, though, a voice from behind them drags both their attention away.

“There’s a legend that says when the Virgin Mary cried at Jesus’ crucifixion, carnations sprung up where her tears fell.” Vanessa cuts in. “What?” she cries indignantly when the other two look at her in surprise, “Y’all hoes ain’t the only ones who can use google.”

They continue to pass the time like this until an alarm goes off on Vanessa’s phone, and the air in the room changes.

“We gotta go get you prepped, baby.” Vanessa’s voice is soft, and Frances’ mood is sober.

Brooke has seen this before; families seeing their loved ones off, spending time cruising the magazine racks instead of sitting in the waiting room worrying, not knowing if their husband or daughter or best friend will come back. Those moments are always the hardest for Brooke, the times when her sense of empathy leaks out just a little too much for her not to feel affected even a little bit.

Somehow, even though she’s only just met them, it hurts even more knowing that it’s Frances.

“Hey, good luck today, okay?” Brooke helps Frances up and wraps them in a friendly hug. To her surprise though, Frances only shrugs as they pull away.

“I’ve been through this surgery once before. My mom says this is gonna be the last one, she can feel it. I can feel it too.”

Brooke thinks about that long after Frances and Vanessa go, planting one long, calming kiss on Vanessa’s lips before the two retreat back up to the pediatric floor.

–

Brooke isn’t supposed to leave the giftshop unattended by whatever disaffected sixteen-year-old volunteer she’s working with that day, but no one really ever checks up on her anyway. Besides, being by Vanessa’s side is more important right now; so she tells the teenager restocking stuffed animals that she’ll be back before leaving with a bag of maltesers and huge stuffed frog under her arm.

She finds Vanessa in the chapel, sitting on a pew with a rosary in her hands, the beads clinking as she runs them through her fingers nervously.

They sit together for a while, saying nothing, Vanessa leaning over to rest her head on Brooke’s shoulder and Brooke hugging her close, humming the closest thing to a hymn she knows under her breath.

Later on, Vanessa will tease Brooke for thinking of ‘Always With Me’ from Spirited Away as spiritual, but right then, from the way she closes her eyes and breathes into the melody, Brooke thinks that Vanessa might just think of the song in the same way.

–

Brooke visits Frances the day after their surgery while they’re in the pediatric ICU, fading in and out of sleep.

The nurse lets Brooke and Vanessa know that they can’t bring flowers into Frances’ room, not while they were still at risk of infection, but after some fierce negotiation, they reach a compromise, and Frances snuggles happily into the frog’s overstuffed side as Brooke reads to them from a book about gardenias.

–

Two years later

“Babe, come on! ” Brooke calls upstairs to Vanessa, who crashes about in response.

“I NEED TO FIND MY EARRINGS! FRANCES, HAVE YOU SEEN MY EARRINGS?”

“No, mami, I haven’t seen anything in four years!” Frances calls back sarcastically, and Brooke has to stop herself from cackling when Vanessa answers back with a string of threats to whoop Frances’ disrespectful ass. But the rant doesn’t stop Frances from beginning to laugh too, their chin-length brown waves shaking as they double forward, lost in giggles.

Not for the first time, it strikes Brooke just how much Frances looks like their mother.

Eventually, Vanessa does stomp downstairs, rolling her eyes but smiling despite herself as she fixes her earrings into their place on her lobes.

“Can’t believe we’re gonna be late for our own grand opening because of some Claire’s jewelry.” Brooke teases sarcastically.

“ Claire’s? Bitch, this shit is from Pandora, so don’t you dare–” But Vanessa’s indignation melts into begrudging forgiveness as Brooke pulls her close and smothers her in kisses.

“Alright, alright, kids, before I puke, let’s go open this shop.” Frances coughs with false irritation, moving briskly right through Brooke and Vanessa and breaking the two lovebirds apart.

“Yes, mom.” Brooke replies saccharinely, hooting with laughter when Frances responds with loud gagging noises.

Consisting of only one room, Hytes-Mateo Flower Emporium isn’t quite as grand as the name makes it out to be, but to Brooke, it feels like a palace as she roams between rows of planters, pots, and perennial blooms.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” Vanessa comes up behind Brooke, leaning on her tiptoes to kiss Brooke on her cheek as she wraps her arms around Brooke’s waist. Just beside them, Frances reaches up to flip their sign from CLOSED to OPEN, and Brooke lets out a deep, contented breath as the waiting crowd of family and friends begins to trickle in.

Everything in the room has been two years in the making, and now, it feels like home.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #angst #lesbian au #hospital au #writworm42 #tw cancer #tw death mentions #tw surgery and medical content #tw grief

[paperhats-and-evil-schemes]

Nosy anon here :') If it's not too much to ask, could we perhaps see another snippet of Compromise?? (youcansaynoi'mjustreallyexcitedandthoughti'daskifwecouldseehowit'scoming) Maybe a funny part, if you have any of those you can share? (Since I know you mentioned you were trying not to show too much angst aa)

YOOOO LONG TIME NO SEE! OF COURSE U CAN! IM GONNA LEAVE IT UNDER A ‘READ MORE’ THO, BECAUSE THIS PART INVOLVES SOMETHING I HAVE MENTIONED WILL HAPPEN A WHILE BACK, SO IT MAY NOT BE A SURPRISE TO OLD FOLLOWERS, BUT JUST IN CASE ANY NEW FOLLOWERS WANT TO KEEP STUFF A SURPRISE FOR THEMSELVES LOL (i mean, it had to happen eventually, so im sure none of u will be OVERLY surprised bUT JUST IN CASE)

HERE U GO

Well this is uncomfortable.

Demencia eyed the pair at different ends of the table from her, trying to keep each sip from her swirly-straw-in-a-pop-can as quiet as possible. Black Hat flipped through today’s newspaper as if nothing was amiss. Flug stared down at his plate of eggs going cold, body entirely stiff and, from the looks of that shade of red only getting redder on his neck, still very ruffled.

“….. Ssssoooo…..” Demencia drawled between slurps, eyeing both men from across the table. How Black Hat was playing this off so casually was beyond her, and judging from how intensely awkward and flustered Flug still looked, beyond the scientist as well. “How long have the two of you been, uh, a thing?”

“Oh… Uuuhhh….” Flug mumbled, shifting slightly in his seat and growing discomfort evident in his tone, “Y-You know…. Two…. well, almost three, uh….” His voice trailed off to an intelligible mumble, to which Demencia squinted and took another large sip of soda as she waited for him to spit it out.

Three what? Weeks? Months?

Black Hat gave a curt nod as he turned another page, seemingly oblivious to the tension so thick you’d need a chainsaw to cut it. “It’ll be three years this June.”

Looks like she was the one who ended up spitting it out. Her drink, anyway.

Flug expected such a reaction, shielding his bag with his arms. Black Hat, on the other hand, glared at her, his now-damp newspaper stained purple with the sugary beverage, and that’s not to mention the drops that got on his clothes. “Seriously, Demencia?”

“Three years???” She repeated in shock after coughing and hacking out the remainder of soda in her windpipe, “Years!? As in twelve month time spans!? Three times??? Thirty-six months?????”

“Yes. That is what three years means.” Her boss responded flatly, not exactly ‘blown away’ by her ability to use basic math to rephrase the same damn question.

“Oh my god! Why didn’t anyone tell me!?” She turned  to 5.0.5., aghast, “Did you know about this!?”

“Broo?” The bear gave an awkward smile and looked around before gesturing to himself in feigned confusion. Who, me?

“Oh my god, you totally knew!!!” The hybrid exclaimed. She whipped her attention right back to her coworker and boss. “Why didn’t you tell me!? Do you realize how much wingmanning I could’ve been doing for you doorknobs!?”

“I–” Flug blinked at her, suddenly struck with confusion. “Wait, what? Wingmanning?”

“Now I have to catch up on three whole years of relationship! So much lost time to make up for! This is unbelievable!” With squinted eyes, Demencia pointed a finger at the doctor. “You owe me so many details you have no idea.”

Okay, completely not the kind of reaction he was expecting… “Uhh… You’re not… upset?”

“Of course I’m upset! Not about you getting together, but you got together without telling me!!!” She snapped back immediately.

“I thought you would’ve tried to kill me!” Flug retorted in an attempted defense, at which Demencia’s eyes went wide.

“Oh come on, what kind of an idiot do you take me for!? I couldn’t get away with that even if I wanted to when you’re dating fucking Black Hat, Flug!”

“I have literally seen you bludgeon people to death for merely looking at him the wrong way!”

“Okay, for the record–”

“Will you two shut up!?” Black Hat finally cut in, looking up from the paper he hadn’t been able to focus on over the bickering to glare at them. “You sound like bloody children!”

At that, both of them quickly corrected themselves. “Sorry, sir…!” Flug squeaked, Demencia following suit. The scientist went back to picking away at his eggs, and Demencia to slurping her drink, but the lizard still eyed Flug from her spot.

“You still owe me details though, just so you know!” She made sure to tell him. “I have a million questions!”

#OP #snippet #the nosy anon #thats right u get ur own tag now ;P #Anonymous #i accidentally referred to 505 as 'it' in the rough draft and had to go back and correct it i feel so ashamed im sorry 505 i love u i swear #ive been writing WH too much he's got me calling everyone 'it' goddamn #even when im not working on that fic he fucks with me #aNYWAY HAVE SOME SHITTY HUMOR FOR UR SOUL

[stillnotfromcanada]

Welcome Back! (Broo/Quentin) part 2

The dim lighting created the perfect atmosphere. They had been talking back and forth for a while now, but then Quentin felt something was up. Quentin mentally took a step back from the situation and realized what was going on.

Motherfucker was flirting with him.

The balls on this guy, and he didn’t even have those, Quentin checked. Quentin wasn’t a perv about it though, after all, if an alien shows up and you have the ability to find out whether he has a dick or not, who wouldn’t take that chance?

Broo probably thought Quentin would’ve had his head too far up his own ass to notice, and Broo was almost right. Quentin adored the attention he was getting, basking in it. It had been too long, too damn long since Quentin was the center of any positive attention. It felt good,…too good. And that’s what threw Quentin off. It was too much like old times, except this time Broo wasn’t the butt of the joke.

Quentin remembered how Broo would follow him around like a lovesick puppy. No matter what insults Quentin threw at him, Broo would be blissfully unaware of any ill intent and follow Quentin around some more. Broo used to be so oblivious to everything around him, the bullying he received, any joke at his expense. Broo didn’t know any better, but goddamn it, Broo was smart. Quentin hated to admit it then, but Broo was the only person Quentin’d ever met who was on his level in terms of intelligence. Quentin had hated that because it made him think of Broo in an positive light.

But now, Quentin was turned on. Broo’s sarcasm, teasing, wit. Broo had become such a….

Quentin noticed Broo’s nail was gently tracing Quentin’s knuckle.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” Quentin said, smiling despite his throbbing heart.

“Do you remember, of course you do, when Professor Pryde took us to the local science museum? They forced you to hold my hand the entire trip? We had quite a bit of fun didn’t we?”

Broo spoke as if they had snuck away and banged in the coat closet, which was the farthest thing from the truth. They just…hung out. Quentin by the end of the day realized that maybe he didn’t hate Broo after all, which was pretty upsetting at the time.

“Yeah, we found out that their math was off for the trajectory of how long it’d be to orbit Jupiter, and they threw our asses out when I called the curator a “dick nugget” to his face”

“To be fair, they threw us out before I could show them the math”

Quentin started laughing.

“Pryde was so mad when she couldn’t find us and found us chilling on the lawn with smoothies. And then I convinced you to come back and help me break into the fucking museum at night so I could correct the fucking plaque in sharpie!”

“Hmm, yes, I was always under your thumb, wasn’t I?”

Quentin was laughing pretty hard until he realized that, this was exactly the shit he pulled on Broo constantly. Quentin became quiet. He felt bad. They never got caught, technically. It was on the news, so when Logan heard it, he knew who it was. Quentin felt bad. His eyebrows furrowed. Broo continued.

“You’re the most powerful telepath in the world,…but yet you never needed to force me into doing what you wanted. I would’ve done anything for you if you asked. And you know full well that I have. So, what does that say about you, Quentin?”

Quentin squeezed Broo’s hand on impulse.

“Means I’m a shitty person who deserves all the shit coming to me. Means I’m a goddamn piece of garbage. Means I’m—“

Broo laughed and started massaging Quentin’s hand.

“You’re not the best, Quentin, but you’re definitely not the worst. Maybe that’s why I like you so much. Even the roundest edges can cut if they’re sharp enough” Broo cooed as he rubbed and kneaded Quentin’s fingers, tracing his nails on Quentin’s fingerpads.

Oh fuck.

Quentin bit the tip of his own tongue. Quentin leaned in and whispered.

“How’s about you ‘n me blow this joint and head on back and up to your place?”

“Oh, mine? And what’s particularly wrong with your room, Quentin? Don’t you have a king size bed? Would be much more comfortable, don’t you think?”

“Benji’s entertaining his boyfriend tonight,” Quentin clicked his tongue. “So, how ‘bout it?”

“Let’s wait till after dinner. After that, then I’m all yours”

#welcome back! series #writtenbybitchhands #broo/quentin #quentin quire #broo the brood #x men comics #generation x #kid omega #broo #brooberry & turtle dove