#fresher!ross

[mybrokenveins3000]

Freshers - College!Ross Macdonald

A/N: HII!! This is my first time writing anything on Tumblr, let alone the 1975 related. I hope you guys like it. Ignore how my grammar is all over the place, quotation marks and commas confuse me.

I move to university in about two weeks, I doubt anything like this will happen, but a girl can dream. Anyways, enjoy! Also, this is dedicated to @hypersonic04 <3

word count: 1.6k

♫ My Funny Girl - Harry Teardrop // Eighteen - Pale Waves

It's almost been a month since you moved to the city for university. Tonight, you're at a coursemate's flat for Pres. Trashy guilty-pleasure pop blasts through the speakers and you're busy avoiding people, drinking by the window. You watch the condensation trail behind a departing aeroplane over the cityscape. You're thinking about where you are now, the kind of people you brush shoulders with, and how easy it is to feel so desperately alone out here.

Despite the air of maturity and the swill of liquor in your mouth, it always shocked you how laughably predictable university boys can be - especially those on your Film course. It's been a month and you're already bored by the typical film bro spiel of "why Tarantino is the best director of all time" and how "there's something manic pixie dream girl about you".

Speaking of, you feel a tall, masculine shadow cast over you interrupting your intense thinking. Cue the "what's your favourite film" question, you think to yourself.

"What's your favourite film?"

Right, here we go again.

"Depends. Who's asking?" you laugh to yourself, still watching that blinking plane.

"Um, me." Now that felt more like a question.

"And, who are you?" You whip around and see a tall boy in a black hoodie. Who is this? He's cute... is your immediate response to the stranger.

You playfully prod at him with your empty solo cup, "Youuu are not on my course."

He laughs gently, casting his eyes to the floor. Despite his shy cadence, there's an effortlessness and confidence about him that is rare to find among these overgrown teenagers. "No, I'm not. I do History."

You squint and he senses your confusion about his presence at a Film student function.

"I came with him", he gestures over to the couch. The scantily clad, mop-headed, binge-drinking, serial flirt, Matty Healy, lounges across your girl friends' legs. You scowl. You and Matty have argued in and out of every seminar you've ever shared. It surprised you that someone like the boy in front of you was here with him.

"He actually told me to ask that question"

"Hm?"

"Your favourite film? He said it's a good conversation starter but I'm beginning to think," he makes a note of your comically disappointed expression, "that he is very, very wrong"

He smiles at you. You can't help but smile back at him. The image of him preparing to talk you flashes in your mind. You smile harder.

"Roman Holiday", he leans over to hear you better over the drowning sound of pop, exposing his neck and the chain dangling around it. "My favourite film is Roman Holiday"

"Never heard of it--"

"YOU'VE NEVER HEARD OF ROMAN HOLIDAY?!?!" He certainly didn't need to lean in to hear that. He laughs at the inner film nerd in you coming out.

In that moment, he could see it. You and his best friend having passive-aggressive discussions during seminars. It's stupid to admit the twinge of jealousy he felt at the idea. I mean, you had only just met. Maybe it's the alcohol or Teenage Dream on the speaker, maybe he wants to see that enthusiasm and hear you talk about films forever and ever.

"Maybe we could watch it sometime."

It doesn't help that you blush easily. You can see yourself now, a vision in bright red.

"Does that line work for every girl?"

"I don't know, I haven't used it before," he smiles and rakes a hand through his hair. Fuck.

Wait, let's not get ahead of ourselves. "Who are you again?" you ask before you can glow any brighter.

"I'm Ross."

You reply with your name and extend your free hand to shake his.

The speakers go quiet over this exchange. A drunken voice exclaims "RIGHT, LET'S GO!" followed by peals of laughter and excitement.

You look at each other, hand in hand, knowing that you just started something good. Something good that you don't want to infect with even louder music, sweaty bodies and strobe lights - not now at least. If only Pres could last forever. You let go of his hand.

People flood out of the flat, but a girl friend of yours whose flat this is hangs back when she sees the pair of you not moving.

"Hey, could we stay here actually?" you tell her.

Having hosted so many film parties and Pres, she knows you're usually the first out of the door. She knows that you never do this or feel this, especially not for boys you've only met. But there's something about him and this squeezing in your heart. You don't want him to leave you.

She smiles, turning the speakers back on, the volume set to low. It's Boom Clap by Charli XCX. You wouldn't know this 'til much later, but she thinks you two make a good couple. "You don't need a key to leave and the door locks by itself, so feel free to stay."

Before she disappears out the door, Ross exclaims "Take care of Matty!!"

"No promises!!" she shouts back.

---

Saturday bleeds into Sunday. You're sitting on the floor with a boy you just met. He does History, you do Film. The Bluetooth speaker died in the middle of Colors by Halsey, but you both were too engrossed in conversation to realise it.

The October wind picked up, tossing the plastic cups across the room, but he was too busy looking at you, how the air danced and played with your hair. Neither of you could figure out how to close the window, you were both guests here after all. When he noticed you shivering, his black hoodie immediately came off. He blushed as you put it on, how the sleeves extended past your hands. It was hard for you not to hug yourself and take in his smell of petrichor and aftershave in its entirety. It was hard for him not to hug you.

By this point, you could name all his favourite teachers from secondary school and why the 1900s was his favourite century. He could list your top 10 films in order and the details about your hometown that you love. He recounts what it was like growing up in Wilmslow with Matty. You never knew Wilmslow ever existed, you never knew anyone's words could soften you to Matty.

As he speaks, you notice the distant whir of passing cars, the wind, the hum of the light bulb, and how this is all so tragically and desperately transient.

"What's wrong?" he asks as if he has known you a long time. He has made a note of how expressive you are, how whatever you're thinking or feeling is easy to detect just by looking at your face. You wouldn't know it, but he decides right then and there that he wants to recognise every micro-expression your face could make.

"I like talking to you," you admit, almost sadly.

"I like talking to you, too."

You glance out the window. "But you do know what they say about the people you meet in the first semester," they don't stay.

"Yeah, yeah, I do know, but" he delicately places his hand on your knee, "you're someone people want to keep."

Silence. There's an unspoken force about the two of you. It encourages you to submit to the endearing teenage stupidity and rash decision-making.

"You're someone I want to keep," he says finally. Whilst your eyes, tipsy and excited, have been jumping from surface to surface, his has been fixed on you the entire night.

A thump from the front door interrupts the moment followed by crashing and inelegant, drunken moaning.

"Ohmygod you guys are STILL HERE?!?!" screams that coursemate of yours, popping her head through the door. "MATTY, THEY'RE STILL HERE!"

A tiny "ᶠᵁᶜᴷ" can be heard from another room. You and Ross laugh to yourselves, not surprised by the scene unraveling before you two.

"You know I love you guys but do you mind fucking off?"

Ross is already stood up and helps you onto your feet. You could get used to this. You plant a chaste kiss on her sweaty forehead followed by "You know I love you. Use protection."

"Have fun, mate!" Ross yells down the corridor as you make your way to the door.

"ᶠᵁᶜᴷ ʸᴼᵁ"

---

You strike yourself as more tipsy than you realise as you wiggle the door handle and cry, "OHMYGOD, IT DOES LOCK ON ITS OWN!!"

And he's looking at you, smiling that same warm smile, as you get excited over a door. You're still wearing his hoodie.

You notice him staring, "what?"

"Nothing"

"You look like you want to say something?" He takes in a breath and shrugs. "If you wanna say something, just say it," you laugh.

To that, he lifts up your chin with his finger and kisses you.

As soon as he backs away, you toss your arms around his neck and inelegantly smash your face onto his. You can feel him smiling as you kiss. His arms pull you closer at the waist, hands underneath his hoodie.

"I've been waiting to do that all night," he whispers as you pull away. The streetlights and skyscrapers blink through the windows of the dimly lit corridor. Only this time in the face of the city, you don't feel alone anymore.

"Are you busy today?" he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You're still slung around his neck. It's all stupidly endearingly familiar, but also so new. You kiss through the conversation.

"No, no, not busy... do need to do my laundry though."

"Good, so do I." You silently agree to do it together.

You take his hand in yours and walk down the stairs.

"I'm someone you wanna keep, huh?"

"You're someone I wanna keep."

[thefrontofmymind]

nothing's changed (teacher!ross x teacher!reader)

a/n: here she is! this was like the longest oneshot i think ive ever written. i would like to thank @hypersonic04 and @abiiors for letting me talk at them about this, i needed the encouragement.

WC: 7.1k

masterlist

The music in the crowded club was overbearing. You were never one for parties in your teenage years, and the same could be said for your two years so far at university. You could hardly think straight. 

Shuffling between the hoards of people–as drunk as you wish you were, just so you could loosen up just a little–balancing the drinks for yourself, your flatmate, and her newest boyfriend. You quickly placed them on the table your group had set up shop at, the three glasses were moments away from slipping between your fingers.

���Last drink here, is that alright?” You flatmate, Ellie, yelled into your ear.

You nodded.

“Okay.” She took a sip of her vodka, lime and soda. “Some of Jack’s friends are at a bar like two minutes away, we were gonna link up with them for a while.”

You just nodded again. You were always going along with her, and her boyfriends’, plans. Ellie was always so much more social than you. You met the first week of your first semester at a Fresher’s party and you’d just clung on since then. 

For you, university was a means to an end, not for fun–because it was always more stressful than fun for you. The end in question; a fulfilled life. Living in a comfortable life with a job that you didn’t have to love, just not hate, in a flat that didn’t have to be the fanciest, just not the dingiest, in a historical city with good enough public transport. 

You downed your drink as fast as you could, just itching to get back to your flat to have a nice shower and to lay in your fresh sheets.

It was colder outside than what you remembered it being like only an hour ago, the wind had picked up and went right through the denim jacket that was wrapped tightly around you.

The three of you walked to the next bar. Jack had an arm around Ellie, pulling her into his side to keep her warm. You walked alone.

“So what are these friends like, then?” You asked on the way.

“They’re so nice! You’ll love them!” Ellie said excitedly. Obviously the four drinks she had at the last club had caught up to her.

“They’re good blokes,” Jack answered. “You’ll like ‘em, I think, a lot of them are into music stuff so you’ll get on with them.”

Pretty much the only thing Jack seemed to know about you was that you were studying music teaching, so if some of his friends–who you assumed would be just as…’lad-ish’ as him–had the same interests as you, perhaps this wouldn’t be a total drag of a night. Who knows, maybe you could even get one interesting conversation out of it.

You got through quite quickly, being a group of mostly women, the security guards ushered you three right in. This bar was a bit calmer; not as packed and they were playing music that was more than just electronic beeps over and over again.

Jack pointed out a group huddled in the corner. Probably around 10 people, all laughing with each other.

After multiple introductions of “I’m Ellie’s flatmate” you could finally get to the bar and get another drink. As you were waiting, a figure walked to stand beside you. One of the guys you’d just met, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember his name in the blur of everyone you’d just met. …Ron? No that’s not right…Chris?

He smiled at you politely. It was only then that you realised you’d just been staring at his face with your eyebrows furrowed in thought. You quickly snapped out of it, focussing your gaze on the bartender who was slowly making her way through the hoard around you.

“So I didn’t catch it…what are you studying?” He asked.

“Music teaching, focusing on secondary school,” you answered.

“That’s cool,” he said. “I’m studying teaching too, history.”

“Are you a second year?”

“No, third. You?”

“Second.”

“Right…that’s why you asked me if I was second…” He said, seemingly mostly to himself. “I’m in a band though.”

“Oh! Really?” You asked with a smile.

Your drink was finally handed to you, but you stood at the bar and waited for…Ryan? To order.

“Yeah, with Matty and Adam over there…” He pointed to the group, though you had no way of knowing which of them was Matty and which was Adam. “I’m the bassist.”

“Always the coolest instrument!” You commented.

Once he’d gotten his pint, you both walked back over to the booth the group was currently occupying. You were glad it was more of a ‘sit down and drink and talk’ kind of bar and not a ‘dance with sweaty strangers in the dark’ kind of one. The man slid onto the end of the booth, before shoving the person next to him to shuffle over, then patting the newly made spot next to him. You sat down. It wasn’t a lot of room, but when he noticed, he kept an arm around your waist to keep you from slipping. The only thing you could think was just how comfortable it all felt.

“So this is Matty, the-uh-singer,” he said pointing to the guy next to him with square-framed glasses and a mop of dark hair on top of his head. A stark contrast from the buzzcut of the man with the arm around you.

“Oh c’mon I’m more than just the singer, Ross!” Ross! It was right on the tip of your tongue!

You barely even thought of Ellie, your safety, the rest of the night. You drank and chatted with Ross and you didn’t think you’d ever enjoyed someone’s company as much as his. Somehow, you both just understood each other, you agreed on everything.

The clock ticked on and the group began to get thinner and thinner. Ellie crouched next to you at your spot in the booth around 3.

“We were thinking of going home,” she said. You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to go back to being lonely and be forced to listen to Ellie and Jack have sex through the wall for the thousandth time. She saw your face. “Please! My feet are killing me and I just want to go home!”

“I’ll be happy to take you home if you don’t want to leave yet?” Ross piped in, looking at you.

You nodded without even thinking.

“Okay!” Ellie said. “See you later!”

Her and Jack were out the door in seconds flat, leaving you now with a group of only four strangers. Well, three strangers and Ross.

You joined in the conversation between the group for a while, but it was getting late and you were starting to get tired. You leant more into Ross, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Want me to take you home?” He whispered to you–now possible with just the last stragglers left in the bar.

You groaned. “Those two are probably fucking, I really don’t want to walk into that.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Well, do you want to come back to mine then?”

You knew what he meant with the question. And it was something you didn’t have to ponder on much at all.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

After saying your ‘goodbye’s and ‘it was great to meet you’s to the group, you and Ross left, his hands never leaving your waist as you let him out onto the street.

“It’s just down this way,” he said, nodding his head to further up the now pretty deserted street. “Couple minutes.”

On any other night, you would’ve been scared to walk around the city at night, but with Ross you just felt so safe. With a constant grip on your hand as you both walked, you never felt unsupported.

His flat was small–expected with him being a student like yourself. You noted the bass sitting on a stand in his living room, and the teetering stack of textbooks next to it.

“Do you want some tea or something?” He asked, moving to his kitchen to click the kettle on and get a bottle of milk out of the fridge. “I also have coffee if you want, but-y’know-it’s a bit late.”

“Tea sounds good,” you answered. “With two sugars, please?”

“Of course,” he said.

As he made the tea, you got comfortable on his sofa–taking off your trainers and settling into the corner of it. You began to daze out, your eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. You didn’t even notice them shut completely until you heard a light clank of Ross placing the two mugs on the coffee table. You jumped awake.

“Sorry! Didn’t mean to wake you!” He said.

You moved your legs from taking up the whole sofa so he could sit. Without words he pulled your feet onto his lap, like it was the most natural position in the world.

“I wasn’t asleep!”

“No, you’re right,” he answered. “Snoring with your eyes shut is always the make of someone wide awake.”

“Oh God, was I snoring?” You suddenly felt so insecure. Sure, you felt so comfortable with Ross but you still only met him a few hours prior, it wasn’t time for you to be so…honest.

“A little,” Ross said. “More like little snorts, it was cute.”

You couldn’t help but blush a little. “You’ll need to play me a song one time.” You motioned to the teal bass on the other side of the room.

“Oh, I don’t know…Bass lines are so boring, they're like nothing.”

“Hello? You’re talking to a music student here!” You laughed. “If anyone would appreciate bass, it’s me.”

“One day then…” He grinned.

Conversation was just so easy. Even in your exhausted half-asleep state, you were never bored and it all just flowed so easily. Somehow talking to Ross–now alone–woke you up.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but somehow, you’d scooched down the whole length of the sofa, and were perched in Ross’ lap, wrapped in his arms.

Your faces were so close together, it would’ve been weird if you didn’t kiss him. And boy, were you glad you did. You've watched so many movies throughout your life where they talk about fireworks with the perfect kiss, and you thought it was just a movie cliche, until now. His kiss was warm, but somehow at the same time, like a breeze of fresh air. There was no awkward shuffling around, you both just fit together so well.

You felt his tongue swipe across your lips, you opened them. As the kiss got deeper and deeper, you both got more and more handsy–roaming around each others’ bodies, discovering every curve and outline of each other.

Eventually you had to part for a proper breath, though you didn’t stray far, keeping your forehead resting against his.

“Hi,” you said once you’d both opened your eyes again.

“Hi,” he chuckled.

You wanted to go further, you really did, but fatigue was hitting all your muscles at once, you couldn’t go on.

“I’m sorry…I’m really tired,” you said.

“Don’t apologise, it’s okay,” Ross answered. “Do you want to just go to bed here?”

You nodded. “Do you have like a shirt or something I could change into?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It felt like when you were a kid after a long summer day, so exhausted and yearning for the comfort of rest. Ross’ bed welcomed you well, so cosy and soft you practically sank into it.

You’d never gotten to sleep easier than that night, in the arms of a stranger who you felt like you’d known forever.

~~~

You thought after you were out of school, the end of summer wouldn’t affect you as much. Though you didn’t take into account that the end of summer would mean the start of your working year.

For some reason you were nervous–a new school with new students and new coworkers to meet, but that wasn’t something foreign to you. It was your sixth school, your second as a full time teacher. This time you were replacing a retiree, big shoes to fill.

You walked through the hall that would take you to your class, a route you took a couple times during the summer to prep the room and make sure you knew the layout just a little–though the ladies in the reception office were kind enough to give you a printout of a map of the school, you never were all that great with anything visual.

You got there early, there was a staff meeting before the start of the day and you wouldn’t miss it for the world. After setting up the room for your first class, Year 9’s, you headed off. You weren’t alone in the route, a woman about your age came out of the room next to yours.

“You must be the new music teacher!” She said. “I’m Lou, drama teacher.”

After introducing yourself, you both walked together. You couldn’t quite hide your nerves, you’d never been able to hide any emotion well.

“Don’t be nervous, alright?” She placed a reassuring hand on your forearm. “After the old bag Higgins before you, the bar could not be any lower.”

“So I won’t be hazed or anything?” You joked.

“God, no! Some of us threw a party the day he announced his retirement!”

You smiled. At least now some of your fears were alleviated.

But just as some fear left you, your blood ran cold with shock as you walked into the staff room. Standing at the coffee machine, was the man you hadn’t seen since you were in university, the man that still had the power to shatter your heart into a million pieces now over a decade after you last spoke. Ross.

He was bigger–burlier–than before. And his hair was long, tied up neatly in a small bun on the crown of his head. You were surprised at how he pretty much looked the exact same, just different. You could tell his skin had seen a good handful of sunny days, and as he squinted to look at the screen of the fancy coffee machine, you could see the lines on the corners of his eyes that showed a decade full of smiles and laughter.

Lou stared at you, as you stared at him. You were frozen in place, silent as a church mouse. Once the new figure had caught his eye, he saw you.

“Hi…” He said. And seemingly without thinking, his feet brought him to stand in front of you and his arms independently wrapped you in a hug–a hug you hadn’t had in years.

“It’s been forever!” You squeezed him as tight as you could.

In the elation you felt, you realised that a coworker who you’d only known for about five minutes was still standing next to you two.

“So you know each other then?” She asked.

“We went to uni together!” Ross grinned. How you missed his smile.

The headmistress, Janine–your boss–entered the staff room.

“I see you’re getting to know the rest of the team,” she said, sternly.

“Old friends catching up, Janine,” Ross answered.

The whole staff sat down at the tables around the room as Janine called to attention. You panicked for a second–suddenly you were back to worrying about who to sit with–until Ross pulled a chair next to the one he’d settled in.

~~~

You woke up to glaring sunlight, and an unfamiliar bed. You quickly put the pieces together from the night before; the bar, and Ross, and his flat. 

You could hear his TV on through the closed bedroom door. You didn’t know why you were trying to be quiet, maybe somehow Ross forgot about your existence and you didn’t want to frighten him. Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Ross on the sofa, watching an old episode of Gavin And Stacey.

“Good morning,” you said, all gravelly.

“Morning.”

He didn’t look at all ill at ease, unlike you. He was ever so relaxed lounging on the sofa with his legs taking up the whole length of it.

“Can I sit?” You asked.

He patted his lap. It was a bold move, but one that you wouldn’t say no to. You laid on top of him on the sofa, shuffling a little to get comfortable. You instantly felt warmer as he held you. 

“I’m sorry about last night?” You said.

“What d’you mean?”

“Like you bringing me here and then us not…you know.”

“Oh, don’t apologise,” he scoffed. “I didn’t…ask for it.”

“Well you kind of did…”

“I was doing a favour for a friend,” he answered. “You needed a place to stay, and I had a place.”

“So we’re friends then…” You said–more to yourself than to Ross.

“If you want to be.” You felt his hand on the small of your back grip like the tiniest bit tighter.

“I don’t know if I could be just a friend,” You said. “But I’m not…ready to be more than a friend.”

“I’m sure we could figure out an arrangement.”

And you kissed him. Even with the morning breath and the awkward angle, it had as much heat and fire as you kiss from the night before. This was definitely something you couldn’t give up.

~~~

Ross was kind enough to walk you back to your class. ‘In case you get lost’ was his reasoning–not that you complained. You two got right back into the rhythm of the past, talking like you hadn’t spent years desperately not trying to look each other up to see what you both were up to.

It was kind of strange. It was like you’d been transported back to being your nineteen year old self again, anxiety and all. Though like then, simply Ross’ presence was enough to calm you. It was muscle memory, walking close enough to him to feel the warmth off his skin and keeping the pace to keep up with him.

Saying goodbye to him at your door, it was hard to not ask him to stay–like old times, though now he really couldn’t stay, and no badgering and begging would be able to convince him.

You just couldn’t fathom your luck. Out of thousands of schools you could’ve worked at, the one that hired you was the one he worked at. You thought you would never see him again after…everything. You didn’t realise that you were very well close to losing that vivid memory of his face, his smile, the joy he brought to a room.

Your morning lessons were spent trying not to think of him. You were working, you had to focus. Your students weren’t nearly as intimidating as you thought they would be, it seems they all had the same sentiment for your predecessor as your coworkers had. 

And by lunchtime, you already had a few favourites. A group of Year 10s who sat at the very front of the room and constantly asked you questions about yourself instead of the material you were teaching–Hayley, Daniel and Lily. You told them a little; where you grew up, the music you liked as a teenager, and you may have let it slip that you knew a teacher, though you managed to catch yourself before letting them in on who. You didn’t quite know how to approach all this, you didn’t know quite what you could say. You should talk to Ross first, it won’t be an easy conversation but it has to be talked out.

You didn’t have to wait long, because as you sat at the desk in your classroom, fiddling with the salad you brought from home while going over your lesson plans, you heard a knock on the door.

“Yes?” You said, trying to put on your best ‘teacher voice’.

“It’s me.” A voice you recognised very well.

Ross stepped into your classroom–oh so gently, as if his steps had the capability to break the floorboards. He took a seat at the desk closest to you. 

“So how’s everything so far?” He asked. “No one giving you trouble?”

“Couldn’t ask for better pupils,” you answered with a smile.

“Good…I’d have to tell them off otherwise.”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that!”

“Oh c’mon you know I’m not scary…” He leant in to whisper to you. “Just don’t tell all them.”

You were surprised at just how natural it all came back to the two of you, falling back into that groove. You had a great sense of relief, gaining more and more with each playful quip.

Though soon enough you heard the bell that meant the end of lunchtime, and Ross had to go back to his classroom.

“So I’ll see you, then,” you said to him.

“Yeah, coworker,” he smiled.

~~~

You got into a routine with Ross. You acted like friends most of the time, but with enough liquor or loneliness running through you, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You loved the exhilaration of sneaking away on nights out with your amalgamation of friends to get up to filthy things at whoever’s flat was closer–or a public bathroom or two if it was just too far of a trek.

All your friends pretended not to notice your looks at each other, not because they disapproved, it just wasn’t something you two either spoke about–even when Ross would spend the night at your flat and Ellie would get a fright in the morning seeing him making two cups of tea in the kitchen. It was more like an open secret, something people only knew about if they really paid attention.

You both still went on dates with other people, that was part of the appeal. You only wanted flings, and it seemed that no one else was on the same page as you–apart from Ross. And it worked the other way too, you knew Ross would go on just as many first dates as you, though he never really divulged to you like you did to him. You worried he didn’t want to hurt your feelings–like you could have your feelings hurt…

You were never as happy when you weren’t with him, sweaty and basking in the afterglow. You told each other everything, all your secrets, all your stories from your childhoods, everything you hoped for in the future. Something with the two of you just fit, call it fate or whatever else you believe in, but somehow you met at just the right time for it all to come together perfectly. Well, almost perfectly.

“Did you have any boyfriends when you were in school?” He asked one morning when you both had nowhere to be and made yourselves very comfortable in his bed.

“Jealous?” You laughed.

“Just making conversation…” He explained with a smile.

“There was one, Will, he was nice…” You answered. “And no one else of much importance.”

“Well what made him so important?” Ross asked.

“He was my first boyfriend, my first love, you know?”

Ross sighed. “Not really, not been in love before.”

“Really? Not ever?” You asked in disbelief.

“I guess I’ve just been too busy for it,” he answered.

You felt bad. As much as love had hurt you, it was a good kind of hurt, the kind you need in your life.

“It’s not that bad,” he continued. “I don’t lead a totally sad life.”

“I know…”

~~~

Your spine felt like jelly as you cleaned up your classroom after the end of the school day on your first Friday. A couple of the teachers you’d gotten close with had planned a little night out to welcome you–Ross included–and as much as you appreciated the gesture, nights out were never really your thing. You wondered if Ross told them, you wondered if they knew at all about your history. Though he was never much one for confrontation, that must’ve been it.

You were going to get a ride with Lou. You realised you both lived just a street away from each other and you really didn’t feel like forking out your entire life savings for one Uber ride. She’d become a sort of guardian angel for you–showing you the ropes in your first week. You had Ross as well, and he helped when he could, but you pretty much resided on opposite sides of the school and you couldn’t exactly go all the way to him every time you had a question or query. You’d gotten comfortable with your coworkers at school but not out of that very controlled environment, a night out would show the real you.

You’d chewed the ends of your fingers raw once you’d gotten home to shower and get properly ready. You were very quickly going into a spiral. What if I say something wrong? What if I get too drunk? What if I don’t get drunk enough and don’t enjoy myself? What if Ross has told them everything?

You checked your phone as you were waiting for your post-shower skincare to sink in. There was a text from Lou just to confirm your address and then another text from a contact you haven’t seen for years.

looking forward to tonight! see you there! -Ross

It took you by surprise. Not the message, itself, but the notion that he would have to sign off on a text, otherwise you wouldn’t know who it was. You smiled at the thought of him worrying that after all these years you’d deleted his number from your phone, and then when you realised he had kept your number just as long. You typed a reply.

you know me! buzzing for it! (no really, you know me…i’m giving it a go)

A bubble popped up immediately, showing he was typing. Like touching a hot pan, you instinctively threw your phone onto your bed the second you saw it. After a minute or so you looked at your phone again. No notifications. Must’ve been a mistake, you thought.

You got ready for the night. You hadn’t worn this much makeup in ages, but you thought for a special night, you should make the effort.

Lou was at your doorstep with an Uber in tow at 7 o’clock on the dot. You’d been so frantic with getting ready for the night and feeding your cat, Benny, and giving him enough attention to last him until you’d get home, you hadn’t checked your phone after that dreaded but brief conversation with Ross. You saw a text from him sent an hour after your last message.

good to know nothings changed!

With a yell of “bye, Benny!” you left with Lou.

“So now that we’re not working…” She started. “Can you tell me how you and Ross…know each other?”

You let out an awkward laugh. You did tell her that you couldn’t talk about it at school, you had the fear of God in you that a student could walk by at any moment and hear it all. But still, you hadn’t spoken to Ross about it, you didn’t want to overstep and embarrass him.

“We knew each other during uni,” you answered.

“Well I already knew that!” She said–a little too loud.

You laughed with her. “What has he told you?”

“That you two were friends…But I’m not stupid, I saw the way you two looked at each other.”

“It’s not my place to tell you everything.”

“So there is a story there!” She yelled.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, though not without a tinge of fear that that was enough for her to know everything in some psychic link between the two of you that you were unaware of.

The pub wasn’t far, you arrived at the curb in about fifteen minutes. Lou checked her phone as you both climbed out of the modern sedan.

“I got messages from Tracy and Nathan, they’re already here, and…Leanne isn’t far away.” She said. Upper English, Social Studies, and Phys Ed, respectively. You hadn’t met a single teacher so far who you didn’t like, everyone was so welcoming to you. Janine, the headmistress and your boss, on the other hand…It wasn’t that she didn’t like you, you figured she just liked things done a certain way and you didn’t exactly fit the mould there.

It was pretty busy inside–not a surprise for 7 o’clock on a Friday night–but it didn’t take you long to see the group who all excitedly yelled their ‘hello’s to you. You quickly got settled with a drink in the booth that Tracy was lucky enough to snag in the lively pub. Soon the group got bigger and bigger. Still, you had yet to see the man who could not stop invading your mind. 

By 9:30, you were yearning to see him–in all his newly grown-up glory.

At ten, you had become resigned to the fact that he was just not going to show up. All your worry and effort was for nothing. You didn’t think he would be like this, he was never like this. After his texts, and then his resounding absence, you truly didn’t know what he was getting at. You just wanted to hole up in your bed and try to forget this whole embarrassing ordeal.

“I think I’m gonna head home,” you said to Lou–admittedly slurring a little, time seemed to pass quicker, the more drinks you had.

“Would you mind going alone? I don’t-I’m not ready to leave just yet,” she answered, just as intelligible as you.

“No worries.” You pulled up the Uber app on your phone as you stepped out of the pub. You pulled your jacket closer to your body as a shiver ran up your spine, it was just beginning to get colder, though you could only really tell during the later hours.

The street was busy, people walking–or stumbling–by you, trying to find the next bar in their nightly crawl. Somehow, you got caught between two people at the most perfect–or imperfect–time. You tripped on one passerby’s foot and saw the pavement get shakily closer. 

Until two firm hands caught you by your shoulders.

“You alright, darling?” You could recognise that voice anywhere.

“Hi,” you said, finally looking up at Ross. There was a panicked look in his eye. “Yeah, you?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he answered. You steadied yourself on your feet and you both floated closer to the front of the pub you were just in to avoid the foot traffic. “Sorry I’m late, Matty–you remember Matty?–his girlfriend broke up with him the other week and he’s been having a hard time, there was a crisis.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to come, he couldn’t.

“It’s all good,” you grinned. “I was actually just about to head off though…Tired.”

He let out a knowing chuckle. “Well could I come home with you?” He saw your eyes widen for just a second. “I mean, I was only coming to catch up with you…Pretty hard to do if you’re not there…”

“I’ve just ordered an Uber,” you said without even thinking. Not like you had to think, the answer would always be a ‘yes’.

You couldn’t stop looking at him while you waited for the car. He looked more confident than when you’d seen him last, like he was easily carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders–and was happy to do so. You barely even noticed that your hand was in his until he squeezed it to get your attention.

“You alright?” He asked. “With all this?”

You didn’t quite know what he meant. With the job, this night out, or him. But the answer was the same for all of the above. You nodded. He smiled, and in an act that felt as natural as breathing, he brought your hands up to his lips to place a kiss on the back of your much-too-cold hand. It was the kind of kiss you’d see with a couple married for decades, nothing too passionate but with just enough love–that frightened you just a little, if you were completely honest.

The ride was silent. You daren’t utter a word for fear that Ross would know how you felt about his warm palm planted firmly on your thigh.

At your flat, you made tea for the two of you. You couldn’t help but reminisce on the first night you knew him, when he brought you back to his tiny flat in the middle of Manchester and was kind enough to be your friend. It was strange how your life seemed so cyclical.

It was quite cold in your flat, you always worried if you turned on the heating when you were out that Benny would get too hot. Speaking of the dark grey feline, you noticed him jump when you came home not alone, he quickly retreated to his cat tree in the corner of your living space. You just laughed and told Ross that he did that with everyone he didn’t know.

You handed Ross his cup of tea–no sugar with just a splash of milk and eye-wateringly strong–and sat down on the sofa next to him. 

You were transported to that night in your second year of uni, the night you started your friendship with Ross. A night when you could’ve been swallowed whole by your loneliness, but were instead embraced by a stranger who you very much grew to…like. A lot…

“So…” You sighed once you were comfortable. “How’s Matty doing?”

“He’s alright…Just…you remember what he’s like…” He answered.

You laughed. “Always…”

“He’s alright though…Just has his moments…” He chuckled. “And then I told him I was going to see you and he got excited.”

“What? And you weren’t excited to see me?” There was a sudden streak of courage running through you.

“I’m always happy to see you, love.” He was laughing, but you both knew there was truth in his statement.

“Good,” you smiled. “Got a bit upset when I thought you wouldn’t show.”

It suddenly dawned on you the glaringly obvious fact that instantly snapped you out of whatever trance you were in. You were coworkers. You had to be professional, even if it was him.

Now his smile–one you could just about read as giddy–made your heart drop into your stomach. His eyes were so soft, a glaze over them–not from tears, just admiration for who he was looking at. Your smile faltered. Ross noticed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, sounding very serious.

“I…” You didn’t quite know how to phrase it. “We can’t…It’s not…professional.”

He sighed, then stayed silent for a moment.

“It’s not that I wouldn’t want to,” you continued. “But if anyone found out…it would be hell.”

“Well then how about we just don’t tell anyone?” He asked quickly. 

The question was enough for your body–independently from your mind–to launch across the sofa and into Ross’ lap. You placed a gentle hand on his cheek. You weren’t used to his now-thicker beard, it was much smoother and softer than his old stubble. 

Kissing him was like returning back to your childhood home after years of not visiting. You still knew him so well–his taste and  the softness of his lips, it was so familiar to you.

As you deepened the kiss, your tongues now well into exploring the familiar landscapes of each other’s lips, your hand that was so firmly planted on his cheek travelled further back. On some kind of instinct your fingers laced through the hair at the back of his neck, tugging just a little on the roots. Ross let out a deep moan into your mouth, you couldn’t help but grin a little into the kiss. Duly noted.

~~~

It was the first day of spring when you finally had the realisation that sent a shock down your spine. As the flower buds began to grow it became apparent that you only had a couple short months before Ross would graduate. You’d had conversations back when the only way to get warm was to be in his embrace, his plan was London. A city with more job opportunities than you knew what to do with. 

It was like all of a sudden you were dreading seeing him, like you were putting off the last time. You couldn’t admit it to yourself then, but you knew that his impending departure would be heartbreaking.

After three days of radio silence, you found him sitting on the curb in front of your building. You were frozen in your spot.

“Sorry, I know this is kinda weird of me,” he said, standing up from his place on the concrete. “You haven’t answered my texts, I got worried.”

Your heart both warmed, and shattered even more at the same time. It was getting dark, and it wasn’t quite the time of year for warmer nights yet.

“Sorry, I’ve been…” You couldn’t quite think of an end to that sentence. You let him into the flat with you.

Ellie was out for the night, so you planned for a night alone–a feast for one in the reusable bag you placed on the kitchen counter. Ross slid off his shoes at the door–something he always did–and got comfortable on your sofa. As you put away the groceries you heard your TV turn on the flicking of switching channels. There was something so domestic about it. You let yourself daydream for a moment that this could be your life if you so pleased, putting away groceries while Ross watched TV. You snapped out of the fantasy when he spoke.

“GoldenEye is on!” He called out to you. You’d had many conversations about your favourite movies as kids, and all the James Bond movies were his–as well as the video game.

You floated to the sofa after everything was safely in its place. You’d watched the latter half of the film all the way to the end credits without even realising. Somewhere along the way, you’d gotten comfortable in Ross’ embrace–a common home for you as of late. Your cheek was beginning to hurt from laying on his chest watching the small TV on the other side of the room.

Ross wriggled a little, so you sat up, realising just how tired you were. With a stretch and a yawn, you let him sit up properly. The film was a nice distraction for a little while.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a much-too-long silence between the two of you.

“For what?” He asked.

“You know what,” you answered. “I’m just…not dealing well.”

“I got that,” he chuckled. “I am too. But what do we do?”

“I don’t know…” You said, your final word cracking as your eyes welled with tears.

Ross was immediately engulfing you in one of his almost-bone-crushing hugs, and you let the tears fall. 

“I didn’t mean to get like this,” you said through sobs.

“I know.”

“And I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I know,” he repeated. “We were good while it lasted, eh?”

“So that’s it?”

He’d finally pulled away again, giving you the chance to wipe your tears and snotty nose on your sleeves. You looked at him, he was just as teary with such an…apologetic look on his face.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he said.

“Can you at least stay for the night?”

“Of course.”

~~~

You went back to work on Monday with a spring in your step. You spent the whole weekend in your flat, just the two of you. It was like before, only better. The sex was better, the conversations were so easy,  you were right back where you were, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

Ross left your flat late on Sunday night, and you hadn’t spoken to him since then. Granted, it had only been around twelve hours, you were still itching to see him again. Not the time, though, you had a job to do, so you tried not to think of him.

At the start of morning break, you were stuck in your classroom helping out a student, Daniel, on some of his homework. Though you were happy to help him out, he and his small group had been so nice to you and you’d already found yourself getting carried away with conversations with the three of them during most of your Year 10 lessons in the past week.

You heard a knock on the doorframe, three firm knocks, to be exact.

“Yes?” You asked. You hoped you knew who it would be, and you were right. You watch Ross walk in, dressed in a crisp light blue button-up and the hair that you’d been pulling on all weekend was neatly tied up into a small bun. “Ah, Mr MacDonald!”

You saw the look of panic in his eyes as he noticed the 14 year-old boy that was standing at your desk with you. He straightened up a little and pulled a smile you could go wobbly-kneed over.

“Hi Mr MacDonald…” Daniel said.

“Hello, Daniel,” he answered. “Not causing any trouble?”

You saw a cheeky grin shared between the two of them. It warmed your heart at thinking of Ross having in-jokes with students, you knew he was a good teacher.

“I promise,” Daniel laughed.

“Good, or else I’ll have something to do about it.” Ross slyly winked to you, making you have to stifle the giggle that almost erupted from your lips.

“Won’t be a minute,” you said to him.

“No worries,” Ross answered, taking a seat at his usual desk for your break-meetings, the one closest to your desk in the front corner of the room. Taking out the packet of crisps from his bag and trying to eat them with as minimal crunches as possible–as to not disturb you.

You didn’t fail to notice the wide eyes of the student in front of you. You had to keep from laughing until he’d left the room.

“Well that rumour’ll be all over school by lunch,” Ross laughed.

“You think?” 

“Oh yeah, I know that kid, he’ll be flipping his shit about it!”

“Does it worry you?” You asked, but Ross looked confused. “Rumours…that we’re together and all that.”

“Well they’re true aren’t they?”

“That’s not the point, I just don’t want to jeopardise our jobs or anything.”

“If someone asks, we can just say it’s a rumour,” he answered. He caught your brief look of worry for just a split-second. “Hey? That doesn’t mean I don’t…love you any less.”

You couldn’t fight the Cheshire cat smile that spread across your face. “Really?”

“Of course. We can just tell them when we’re ready.”

[caligarish]

Random thought: in that one scene with Fitzjames, Blanky says that Ross was telling people to haul "from his position atop one of the sledges", which the viewer is to take as a show of entitlement. But Ross' memoirs mention that at the time he had trouble with scurvy reopening his old battle wounds, which were REALLY serious (deeper than, say, Fitzjames' own, some of them passing all the way through his body). With that added context, it would be understandable that there came a moment he couldn't haul himself, like Fitzjames did, and why said moment came earlier than for some of his sailors.

And the same thing happens to Hickey near the end: where scurvy is supposed to reopen much fresher flogging scars, it doesn't (PTSD can give you a hyperactive immune system, but I'm not sure to what degree it can help against scurvy and lead poisoning). So the show does the same thing to John Ross and Hickey - it downplays their injuries to reduce the viewer's compassion and antagonize them further.

[nikatyler]

Ross 2.0

at first i lol'd and then i serious'd

pookie got the wrong idea :(

MOVE ASIDE MY FAVOURITE GRANDMA IS HERE. TIE HIM UP

gale you need to get over him

Lae'zel thinks about jumping off of very tall somethings

quickly made my way to the mausoleum bc unlike my previous playthrough, I don't want to wait too long for Astarion stuff...probably because I'm set on his fate in this pt so let's just do it

I love how this is basically saying "yeah actually no, you're not careful, go sit back in the camp"

they summoned him

honestly had a lot of fun playing with no party limit today! it's a lot easier in some ways, feels like cheating, but also makes the combat fresher and more interesting imo…and less stressful lol and you know i stress too much so i'll take that

Lae'zel thinks about jumping off of very tall somethings again

And I'll leave the thread here for tonight! I'll continue tomorrow...while waiting for my mods to be updated, I guess. I'm scared haha

damn :(

this has no business being so funny

but i might need to incorporate "back to the hells with you" in my vocabulary

that's 👏 my 👏 man 👏

No yeah. I think the first time I did this, I had to do some save scumming, but he breezed through it this time, it was amazing, and kinda terrifying when you think about it

teaching him to say thank you is one of my favourite things in the entire game

I'm way less anxious this time around because I know exactly how I want it to go...although one of these days I do want to make a run where instead of choosing to heal and get better, they'll get worse together, if you know what I mean <3

[toomuchracket]

Think it was because it was near the end so it’s fresher in everyone’s mind, Can we talk about the actual important stuff? You know like how ROSS HAD HIS FUCKING HAIR DOWN AT THE END?!

ONE SECOND I LOOKED AND IT WAS UP THE NEXT IT WASN'T I ALMOST YELPED also the length is really working for him i think like it looks so healthy. ross leak ur haircare tips i beg

[lesmislettersdaily]

The Death Of A Horse

Volume 1: Fantine; Book 3: In The Year 1817; Chapter 8: The Death Of A Horse

“The dinners are better at Édon’s than at Bombarda’s,” exclaimed Zéphine.

“I prefer Bombarda to Édon,” declared Blachevelle. “There is more luxury. It is more Asiatic. Look at the room downstairs; there are mirrors [glaces] on the walls.”

“I prefer them [glaces, ices] on my plate,” said Favourite.

Blachevelle persisted:—

“Look at the knives. The handles are of silver at Bombarda’s and of bone at Édon’s. Now, silver is more valuable than bone.”

“Except for those who have a silver chin,” observed Tholomyès.

He was looking at the dome of the Invalides, which was visible from Bombarda’s windows.

A pause ensued.

“Tholomyès,” exclaimed Fameuil, “Listolier and I were having a discussion just now.”

“A discussion is a good thing,” replied Tholomyès; “a quarrel is better.”

“We were disputing about philosophy.”

“Well?”

“Which do you prefer, Descartes or Spinoza?”

“Désaugiers,” said Tholomyès.

This decree pronounced, he took a drink, and went on:—

“I consent to live. All is not at an end on earth since we can still talk nonsense. For that I return thanks to the immortal gods. We lie. One lies, but one laughs. One affirms, but one doubts. The unexpected bursts forth from the syllogism. That is fine. There are still human beings here below who know how to open and close the surprise box of the paradox merrily. This, ladies, which you are drinking with so tranquil an air is Madeira wine, you must know, from the vineyard of Coural das Freiras, which is three hundred and seventeen fathoms above the level of the sea. Attention while you drink! three hundred and seventeen fathoms! and Monsieur Bombarda, the magnificent eating-house keeper, gives you those three hundred and seventeen fathoms for four francs and fifty centimes.”

Again Fameuil interrupted him:—

“Tholomyès, your opinions fix the law. Who is your favorite author?”

“Ber—”

“Quin?”

“No; Choux.”

And Tholomyès continued:—

“Honor to Bombarda! He would equal Munophis of Elephanta if he could but get me an Indian dancing-girl, and Thygelion of Chæronea if he could bring me a Greek courtesan; for, oh, ladies! there were Bombardas in Greece and in Egypt. Apuleius tells us of them. Alas! always the same, and nothing new; nothing more unpublished by the creator in creation! Nil sub sole novum, says Solomon; amor omnibus idem, says Virgil; and Carabine mounts with Carabin into the bark at Saint-Cloud, as Aspasia embarked with Pericles upon the fleet at Samos. One last word. Do you know what Aspasia was, ladies? Although she lived at an epoch when women had, as yet, no soul, she was a soul; a soul of a rosy and purple hue, more ardent hued than fire, fresher than the dawn. Aspasia was a creature in whom two extremes of womanhood met; she was the goddess prostitute; Socrates plus Manon Lescaut. Aspasia was created in case a mistress should be needed for Prometheus.”

Tholomyès, once started, would have found some difficulty in stopping, had not a horse fallen down upon the quay just at that moment. The shock caused the cart and the orator to come to a dead halt. It was a Beauceron mare, old and thin, and one fit for the knacker, which was dragging a very heavy cart. On arriving in front of Bombarda’s, the worn-out, exhausted beast had refused to proceed any further. This incident attracted a crowd. Hardly had the cursing and indignant carter had time to utter with proper energy the sacramental word, Mâtin (the jade), backed up with a pitiless cut of the whip, when the jade fell, never to rise again. On hearing the hubbub made by the passers-by, Tholomyès’ merry auditors turned their heads, and Tholomyès took advantage of the opportunity to bring his allocution to a close with this melancholy strophe:—

“Elle était de ce monde ou coucous et carrosses

Ont le même destin;

Et, rosse, elle a vécu ce que vivant les rosses,

L’espace d’un mâtin!” 3

“Poor horse!” sighed Fantine.

And Dahlia exclaimed:—

“There is Fantine on the point of crying over horses. How can one be such a pitiful fool as that!”

At that moment Favourite, folding her arms and throwing her head back, looked resolutely at Tholomyès and said:—

“Come, now! the surprise?”

“Exactly. The moment has arrived,” replied Tholomyès. “Gentlemen, the hour for giving these ladies a surprise has struck. Wait for us a moment, ladies.”

“It begins with a kiss,” said Blachevelle.

“On the brow,” added Tholomyès.

Each gravely bestowed a kiss on his mistress’s brow; then all four filed out through the door, with their fingers on their lips.

Favourite clapped her hands on their departure.

“It is beginning to be amusing already,” said she.

“Don’t be too long,” murmured Fantine; “we are waiting for you.”

[chrisryanspeaks]

Wild Pink’s ‘Dulling the Horns’: A Fresh Blend of Rock Energy and Reflective Depth

Wild Pink’s latest album, Dulling the Horns, represents a shift in tone and energy for the band, offering a blend of lighthearted and introspective tracks that strike a balance between the heavier themes of past releases and a new, more upbeat sound. The album is marked by both its thought-provoking lyrics and a more immediate, visceral style of indie rock. While Dulling the Horns maintains some of the atmospheric elements from previous albums like ILYSM, it also brings a fresher, rock-driven vibe with prominent guitar solos and new instrumental layers, such as bagpipes and saxophones. The standout track, “St. Catherine St,” builds to a powerful guitar crescendo, showcasing the band’s ability to fuse emotional depth with a lively sound. Other tracks, like “Cloud or Mountain” and “Eating the Egg Whole,” display a mix of melancholic introspection and lighter, almost playful moments  . John Ross’s lyrical storytelling is also a highlight, weaving together themes of change and reflection. Tracks like “Rung Cold” delve into themes of consumerism and autonomy, while “Catholic Dracula” introduces a quirky, laconic charm . The album captures the joy of rock with a contemplative heart, providing an enjoyable listen for both long-time fans and newcomers to Wild Pink’s evolving sound . Dulling the Horns stands as a vibrant addition to Wild Pink’s discography, offering a mix of energetic and reflective moments that make it a compelling listen. Listen below: Rating 8/10 - GREAT Album Read the full article

[sonalirichard]

🦁🦁🦁 Hello , The Lion ‼️

Whats up❓

Look , In order for ABSENCE to turn into PRESENCE one day , it is necessary to take the FIRST STEP ✅ and get what you WANT ‼️

How long can you sit in the Bushes 🌿 like a Partisan and secretly dream❓

In the swamp of dark thoughts , doubts and fears , you can drown with your head 😱

♥️♥️♥️ The Beautiful Songs 🎵 especially for you on the Topic :

🔥🔥🔥 DIANA ROSS "AIN'T NO MOUNTAIN HIGH ENOUGH" 💋

"DO YOU KNOW WHERE Y0U"RE GOING TO ?"

"LOVE HANGOVER" 💘

🌹🌹🌹MICHAEL JACKSON { CHILD } & HIS CRYSTAL VOICE :

"AIN'T NO SUNSHINE" ,

"I"LL BE THERE"

"WITH A CHILD"S HEART" 💋💋💋

💙💙💙 NE~YO "ONE IN MILLION" ♥️♥️♥️

JANET JACKSON

"FEEDBACK" .

TONI BRAXTON

"UN~BREAK MY HEART" 💘💘💘

TONI BRAXTON

"YOU"RE MAKIN" ME HIGH" 🔥

♥️🦁🦚🐯🦋🐻🔥

I offer you my Saving Hand , hold on ~ I will get you out of the Captivity of the Dark Forces !

Don"t be afraid ~

I"m with You 💚💜

🦁🦁🦁 Oh , what a beautiful Jacket with a COOL LION !

THE EMPEROR OF ALL BEASTS !

The Male Powerful Cosmic Force of the Lion lives in you !

The best of the bests in Nature 🌳 !

😁🤩😛 My dear 🌞 with this Bandage on your Right Hand 🤚, you remind me of the TERMINATOR 🦾

Ha Ha , a little Humor and Jokes for the Mood 💋

OH MEN ‼️

How different you are from Women ...

We women are more resilient and tolerant of pain and physical suffering .

And Men are often very vulnerable and sensitive ~ and even a small incident with the body knocks them out of their normal state .

If a Man easily cut his Finger or fell into the back seat , got a Bruise , this is already a Universal Tragedy that requires special attention from others 💥💥💥...

And at these moments , Big Men become like Children , touching and tender , sensitive and defenseless 🦋

🍓🍒🍓🍒🍓🍒🍓

You know ,

I want to sit next to you now , take you by your injured Hand , press it to my Cheek , and Kiss 💋 it .., so that your Hand is instantly healed 👌

I"m sure you know how LOVE ♥️ Heals ...

I hug you , my Big Teddy Bear 🐻 , and You become

absolutely HEALTHY 💜💜💜

My Strength , Energy & Love 💘 Heals you , do you feel❓

Amit ji 💝 , I wanna take you by the hand & go to a Cool Fashion Professional Stylist , so that He makes a New Hairstyle on your Head ...

This hairstyle of yours on KBC adds 20 years of age to you !

Hair and hairstyle should make a Person younger , fresher and more beautiful , and now I see on your head a not very attractive Hairstyle ...

You used to look much Cooler !

I mean only the Hairstyle .

Don"t take offense , okay ?

This is only my personal female view and opinion .

You can have your own opinion , maybe you like to look older , and that suits you ...

In any case , you decide what you look like ...

It is not always good when there is a lot of Honey in Admiration , sometimes healthy Criticism is also useful , right ..?

🦾 By the way , ARNIE"s favorite and iconic Terminator Phrase is "I'LL BE BACK !"

And it"s 💯 % relevant today , do you agree , my precious ..?

🙃 I remember SNOOP DOGG calling himself SNOOP LION ! 😛

By the way , I love SNOOPY , all his Songs and Movies are Super Cool !

Listen ~ you"ll like it !

SNOOP DOGG 😎 "LAY LOW" ,

"SWEAT" ,

"DROP IT LIKE IT"S HOT" ,

"PHENOMENON" ,

Many other Songs 🎵 of SNOOPY is really the Best & COOL 😎 !

NEW ALBUM "B.O.D.R" ...

Well , I hope that I entertained you tonight 🙏

I need it too , cos my mood & condition also balancing 50×50 or 0×100 , for a present f**king { pardon } situation

SINCERELY HOPE THAT WE SHALL BE SAVED ASAP 🕉 🙏 🔮🪔♥️🏮🎵

OH YAH , I LOVE 💘 YOU THE MOST WITH THIS HAIRSTYLE ⤵️👌

♥️♥️♥️ WAH , WHAT A STYLE , WHAT A CHARM , WHAT A MAN 💋

SEE YOU SOON 🕉 YOUR 🐼

DAY 5741

Jalsa, Mumbai Nov 5, 2023 Sun 10:13 PM

Birthday - EF Madhur Mohan Sharma Sunday, 5 November .. 🌹 all our wishes for this day of your birth .. love from the Ef family ..

I do make attempt despite the handicap but then when were there none .. life is the challenge of the handicapped and they always find a way and succeed .. as must they should .. so

no more apologies .. just get going ..

the kids special going on and they are not kids at all .. such fun and such a jaw dropping moment ..

Love and more later ..

Amitabh Bachchan

ॐ नमों शिवाया , दूध और जल का स्नान , तुलसी पे जल प्रतिदिन , रविवार को शिव जी पे दूध चढ़ाने के लिए मना किया था, पर GOJ के बाद चढ़ा दिया ,, 🙏🚩

[mybrokenveins3000]

Hey I just read all of your college Ross pieces and I love them!!

What about one night if reader goes out and ends up too drunk and calls Ross so he comes to pick her up and takes her home. Maybe she's trying to talk about her feelings for him but he doesn't want her saying anything she'll be embarrassed by. Or she asks him to stay the night so he sleeps on her floor

A/N: Oh. My. God.

FIRST AND FOREMOST, thank you for the love and for readingg <3 It really means the world to me. SECOND OF ALL... ANON... YOUR BRAIN IS SO LARGE. I am going to PASS OUT. Thank you for this request, my heart might just burst. I might have gone over board, this is the longest thing I've written thus far. Anyways, here goes nothing... enjoy ;)

Drunk Call - College!Ross Macdonald

word count: 1.5k

♫ Heavenly - Pale Waves

This party is excessive and headache-inducing - the music is bad, the people even worse. You don't even know why you're here. When your flatmates asked "why that party?", you simply replied, "just for something to do".

You're slumped down by the foot of the couch, tangled between legs, empty bottles, empty cups. No matter how much you hammer at the side of your phone, all that blinks back is a fat 0%.

The liquor is not sitting right in your stomach, you're not in the mood, and each thrum of bass reminds you of him.

You haven't seen Ross for what feels like forever. He had gone back to his hometown for the week whilst you stayed in the city. There was something noticeably different about the setting without him, the lights felt dimmer, the air felt colder.

You were conscious not to disrupt his week at home, spending so many nights staring at an untouched keyboard. Oh, the amount of text messages you thought up but never sent.

But you knew he would be back today, which was your main source of hope in this tragic, alcohol-punctuated moment.

Without a second thought, you pull at a semi-familiar friend's trouser leg and ask if you can borrow their phone. After a reluctant "yes", you're punching a familiar number onto the screen, then the bright and inviting call button.

The phone buzzes softly in your hand as you lift it to your ear.

Pick up pick up pick up pick up--

"Hello, this is Ross speaking."

You relax at the sound of his voice. You were beyond the border of missing him.

"Hello!!" you exclaim, loud enough to hear yourself over the music - which is to say deafening from his side of the line.

"Whoa," it's like you can hear him wincing, "is that who I think it is?"

"Mhmmm"

"Where are you? Are you okay?" You selfishly smile at the twinge of panic in his voice as he registers the state you're in.

"My phone... it died... This is the only number I know," you gulp, "off by heart."

He's speechless, already devising a plan to save you. If only you could see him now, a blushing mess, half worried, half desperately in love.

"Are you busy?" you add before he can react to the former statement.

"Uhh no, just finished practice. Where are you?"

"Oh, practice... GUYS, I'M ON THE PHONE WITH A ROCKSTAR!!" you announce with such pride to a room full of strangers and acquaintances, once again almost deafening him on the other side of the line. And yet he's hanging onto every word, even if it hurts him.

"Okay, I'm coming to get you," he laughs, "don't worry, I think I know where you are."

"My hero!" you tease, "but please come soon, the music is so bad and I miss you, Ross, I FUCKING MISS YOU--"

You accidentally hang up.

---

Not two minutes later, you see a familiar, flushed face enter the room. Did he run here?

The scene is hazy and fragmented, but you could recognise the space he takes up in any room, even in this state. Ross towers over the crowd, a vision in black denim, searching over moving heads and smoke. Then he locks eyes with you.

You wave at him, still sitting on the floor by the couch. He seems to sigh in relief, hand on his heart.

You spring up as he approaches, unaware of the bottles and cups you've knocked over. He takes you in - you, slightly unravelled but the same as ever. Still beautiful as ever.

"ROCKSTAR!" you cry as you flop into him, catching his eyes crinkling at the name. And you're back in his arms, so inviting, not so dissimilar to the comfort of home. "How did you know I was here?!" you beam at him.

"Matty mentioned it. He wasn't invited," he laughs.

"Lucky him."

You stand there in the middle of the room holding each other for a while, both revelling in how much you've missed each other. For a second, it's warm and quiet. If it took one long week and a bad party to experience this, you think, then it was all worth it.

Suddenly, the song changes to a particularly insufferable one. You both groan like you're one body, one mind.

"Let's go?" he says.

"Let's go."

---

You dance in and out of streetlights down the path to your accommodation, humming one of his band's songs, one from the night of the gig. Ross's walking right beside you, arms at the ready in case you fall or turn where you're not supposed to. Even as you stumble, he gazes at you with amazement at how beautiful you look without even trying.

"What was that thing?" you blurt out.

"What thing?" he hums in response, his alertness veiled by a sense of calm, eyes still glazed with wonder.

"You know, that thing you said when we first met? I'm someone you want to keep, was it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I never said that." he teases, his playful grin giving away his lies.

You throw your arms out and scream into the night, "I'M SOMEONE YOU WANT TO KEEEEEEP!!"

He laughs awkwardly, eyes widening at your sudden outburst. But he adores you. In this moment, that's his only truth.

"Ah, okay, let's take a break"

He settles you down onto a nearby bench. You take in a deep breath of fresh air which turns into a yawn.

Your head starts to droop, but he quickly rests it on his shoulder as he lowers down to sit next to you. Always ready to take care of you, to save you when you let him.

"So suave, so so nice, so nice" you mumble drowsily, half to him, half to yourself.

"What was that?"

"You're so nice... And so good-looking," you can't stop your mouth from moving, "I really like being around you and I missed you so much, but I don't know if you felt the same!! But you're so nice, sometimes I just want to--"

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he slithers his arm around your waist and hoists you back up onto your feet before you say something you'll regret.

But he's unable to bite back a smile. In another world, he would let you speak, but he knows you and knows better than to let you talk yourself into a hole you can't escape.

Not yet, he thinks, not like this.

"Hey! You could compliment me, you know," you nag as you start walking again.

There's a pause as he really considers his response.

"...you know you're gorgeous, right?" he finally sighs, breath visible in the crisp night air, "besides, everything I'd say, I'd want you to remember."

---

He gently lays you down in your bed, but you can't seem to let go of him.

"I don't want you to go", you whine, "won't you stay?"

"For how long?"

"Stay forever."

His eyes soften as he looks down at you, your arms still clasped around his neck. Only you have the power to render him speechless like this. It's so easy for you to get what you want.

You let go of him, aggressively patting the empty side of the bed.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I don't share beds with drunk girls," he says. He takes a stray pillow and blanket, and plonks them onto the floor beside you so he can monitor you as you sleep. By this point, you've already passed out.

---

Ross can't sleep. He doesn't mind the floor, but stirs at every sound and movement you make, constantly checking if you're okay.

Throughout the night, he finds himself looking at the details of your room, at books, concert tickets, and photos of friends and family - pieces of you that he wants to know more about.

He watches you, so peaceful, in awe how he has someone like you in his life.

My life would be so boring without you, he thinks.

---

You wake up just as he walks into the room with a cup of tea. He sets the cup down by the bedside table with a soft smile. The air of domesticity is something you could live in forever.

"Hi," you mumble through fluttering eyelids, filtering the Sunday morning sun.

"Hi. Are you doing okay?"

You nod as you sit up. He sits on the bed, brushing the stray hairs from your face, the warmth of his hand like a healing force. You can't tell he hadn't slept because of how happy he looks just to be there.

You reach over for the tea with the comfort of knowing he made it just how you like it.

"I didn't say anything weird, did I?" you croak, sipping the tea.

"No, not at all," he replies.

There's a moment of silence. The morning birds fly past the window, the steam of the mugs mists your eyes.

"I missed you too, you know," he finally says, "I missed you so much."

A/N: Didn't proofread this but HOPE YOU ENJOYED. I'll probably edit it a bit when I come back, but I wanted you to have this sooner rather than later, anon. THANKS FOR YOUR REQUEST AGAINNNN

[chicknstripz]

Most of my Clone OCs are memes. I’ve got, to name a few

CT 01-0420 | Blaze   Chill and down to earth, likes to have a smoke behind the freshers.

CT 2005 | Jenkins Thinks before he acts, low key has a reputation for running into the thick of the enemy action without backup. 

CT 8535 | Jobsworth Dogma on steroids. Will grass you up to a commanding officer for the smallest thing, with the biggest smirk on his stupid face whilst he recounts some obscure rule. 

CT 0589 | Phalo The Bob Ross of the clone world. Kind soul beneath the heavy plastoid, likes to rescue animals between beating the devil out of the clankers. Runs a 'life of painting' style show on the clone holonetwork' (Yes I HC that the clones created their own ‘TV’ channel) 

CT 22-3211 | Spade  Quick thinker with a sprinkle of spontaneous ingenuity. Took a page out of Tracyn’s (oc Cuy’val Dar) McGyver handbook one day and shot an entrenching tool out of a rocket launcher. 

CT 66-288 & CT 52-2209 | Shriek & Spook Self confessed twins that (Somehow) made ARC despite their shenanigans. Started a 'ghost hunting' show as a prank in their cadet years, and ended up being beloved by their brothers for their hilarious reactions to 'spooky' happenings.

Not all of them have made their way into my fics, but it’s my hope to insert them in one way or other as I make my way through my prompts. 

[sonoftartessos]

León stared at the glistening gash, black in the firelight. The blood was fresher than he hoped but the scar hadn’t spread. ‘Sí, you have pulled a few stitches.’ The idea of losing Ross after everything was incomprehensible. He refused to let that happen. It’s just a bad leg!

León borrowed the mug and used the clean water to wash the wound. ‘We cannot move you again. No matter what.’ He started working in earnest on the leg. He might have overdone the stitches but he refused to let them reopen.

After he finished, he helped tug Ross’ britches back up and turned towards the fire. ‘We should hold onto the food until tomorrow.’ He remained seated close to Ross, unwilling to leave the warmest part of the cave. ‘I will make us something in the morning. If the weather clears, I will hunt.’

Ross smiled against himself. At least they wouldn’t die hungry. He couldn’t be bothered with trying to stop León as he went for his britches. The gash in his leg probably had reopened causing more bloodloss, but he was still alive. He should have died yesterday and he was still here.

He lay still, just accepting the mug of water from the other man so that he could take small sips. “Go ahead, do what you have to.” He murmured even though León was already ahead of him. He looked down although it was almost impossible to see something in the dark.

“Did I make it worse?” He asked after a few minutes. It was getting warmer in the cave at least, he stopped shivering.

[sapphicbookclub]

In the Event of Love by Courtney Kae

With her career as a Los Angeles event planner imploding after a tabloid blowup, Morgan Ross isn’t headed home for the holidays so much as in strategic retreat. Breathtaking mountain vistas, quirky townsfolk, and charming small businesses aside, her hometown of Fern Falls is built of one heartbreak on top of another...

Take her one-time best friend turned crush, Rachel Reed. The memory of their perfect, doomed first kiss is still fresh as new-fallen snow. Way fresher than the freezing mud Morgan ends up sprawled in on her very first day back, only to be hauled out via Rachel’s sexy new lumberjane muscles acquired from running her family tree farm.

When Morgan discovers that the Reeds’ struggling tree farm is the only thing standing between Fern Falls and corporate greed destroying the whole town’s livelihood, she decides she can put heartbreak aside to save the farm by planning her best fundraiser yet. She has all the inspiration for a spectacular event: delicious vanilla lattes, acoustic guitars under majestic pines, a cozy barn surrounded by brilliant stars. But she and Rachel will ABSOLUTELY NOT have a heartwarming holiday happy ending. That would be as unprofessional as it is unlikely. Right?

Genres: contemporary, romance

Get the book from The Book Depository here!

[sapphicbookoftheday]

In the Event of Love by Courtney Kae

Today's sapphic book of the day is In the Event of Love by Courtney Kae!

Summary: "Fans of Casey McQuiston and Alexandria Bellefleur will adore this queer romcom that combines everything people love about Hallmark-style holiday romances with laugh-out-loud humor and a sweet and steamy love story between two women.

With her career as a Los Angeles event planner imploding after a tabloid blowup, Morgan Ross isn’t headed home for the holidays so much as in strategic retreat. Breathtaking mountain vistas, quirky townsfolk, and charming small businesses aside, her hometown of Fern Falls is built of one heartbreak on top of another . . .

Take her one-time best friend turned crush, Rachel Reed. The memory of their perfect, doomed first kiss is still fresh as new-fallen snow. Way fresher than the freezing mud Morgan ends up sprawled in on her very first day back, only to be hauled out via Rachel’s sexy new lumberjane muscles acquired from running her family tree farm.

When Morgan discovers that the Reeds’ struggling tree farm is the only thing standing between Fern Falls and corporate greed destroying the whole town’s livelihood, she decides she can put heartbreak aside to save the farm by planning her best fundraiser yet. She has all the inspiration for a spectacular event: delicious vanilla lattes, acoustic guitars under majestic pines, a cozy barn surrounded by brilliant stars. But she and Rachel will ABSOLUTELY NOT have a heartwarming holiday happy ending. That would be as unprofessional as it is unlikely. Right?"

[chrisryanspeaks]

Wild Pink’s ‘Dulling the Horns’: A Fresh Blend of Rock Energy and Reflective Depth

Wild Pink’s latest album, Dulling the Horns, represents a shift in tone and energy for the band, offering a blend of lighthearted and introspective tracks that strike a balance between the heavier themes of past releases and a new, more upbeat sound. The album is marked by both its thought-provoking lyrics and a more immediate, visceral style of indie rock. While Dulling the Horns maintains some of the atmospheric elements from previous albums like ILYSM, it also brings a fresher, rock-driven vibe with prominent guitar solos and new instrumental layers, such as bagpipes and saxophones. The standout track, “St. Catherine St,” builds to a powerful guitar crescendo, showcasing the band’s ability to fuse emotional depth with a lively sound. Other tracks, like “Cloud or Mountain” and “Eating the Egg Whole,” display a mix of melancholic introspection and lighter, almost playful moments  . John Ross’s lyrical storytelling is also a highlight, weaving together themes of change and reflection. Tracks like “Rung Cold” delve into themes of consumerism and autonomy, while “Catholic Dracula” introduces a quirky, laconic charm . The album captures the joy of rock with a contemplative heart, providing an enjoyable listen for both long-time fans and newcomers to Wild Pink’s evolving sound . Dulling the Horns stands as a vibrant addition to Wild Pink’s discography, offering a mix of energetic and reflective moments that make it a compelling listen. Listen below: Rating 8/10 - GREAT Album Read the full article

[wantsusdead]

Francis slipped his hand into his breast pocket and slid out the folded sheet of paper he had stored there. Settling back into his seat he reread the letter again, his body rocking slightly with the rhythmic movement of the train carriage. He was finally on his way to Brighton, his luggage safely stored above his head. Not that he had much of it to carry. He had returned to England at least a few stone or more lighter and the clothes he had left behind him were now much too big.

Ross had kindly had Francis’s belongings sent to his estate in Aston Abbotts and the captain was grateful as he had no other clothes beside those on his back and one other officer’s suit he had dragged home from the arctic. It felt odd to be wearing civilian clothing again; now several years out of fashion. The redhead had never cared much for clothes; honestly, he preferred his naval uniform.

He didn’t have to think about what he had to wear aboard ship and it gave him a sense of comfort to wear something that distinguished him by his rank. He knew what his role was aboard ship. He knew where he stood. No matter how bad things had gotten; through his alcoholism, his illnesses after abstinence, the trek over the ice and endless gravel, the mutiny, the starvation. Through all of it he still had his duty, his rank, his responsibility to his men. He had failed in so many ways during that final expedition; he had failed so many of the men, like he had already failed in many areas of his life, but he had tried to save them all, by God had he tried.

Now the captain had no longer a clear idea of what his duty was; he felt like a fish out of water and not just because he was on dry land. It always seemed like everyone else had clear instructions of their part to play in life and he was the only one without them. That was a big component of the appeal of the navy that drew him to it in the first place. Thinking it over presently, the locomotive speeding along as he did so, Francis realised that the only responsibility (apart from assuring that his crew receive their correct wages and that all of them would not go destitute) was James.

Francis had made a silent vow to himself on their return voyage that he would look after the younger captain and make sure he was taken care of if nothing else. It was the least he could do. As much as he had saved James from his physical illnesses (long enough to get rescued if not to prevent permanent damage), Francis was saved by him in return. He was certain that he wouldn’t have made it out alive without the other man’s tireless friendship and comradery. The redhead’s personality made him always walk on the precipice of a dark abyss, while James always managed to lighten the mood no matter Francis’s dark humours.

Your bodily presence may tame this need yet. Francis ignored the stirring in his stomach and refolded the letter, replacing it back into his coat pocket.

Several hours later he had arrived in Brighton before nightfall. After several attempts, he was able to take a hansom cab that would bring him to his final destination. Pulling up to the house, Francis stepped out, pulling up his coat against the cold wind at his neck. He took his suitcase down and paid the driver. Taking a deep breath as he faced the house, he began to walk up the few steps towards the front door. He didn’t know why he had a knot in his stomach; was he nervous? He had been excited earlier. He tapped his palm against his breast; there was something comforting about having his friend’s words pressed against his heart. With that he used the elaborate knocker to tap against the hard wood of the door.

Upon entering he was greeted by several people; chief among them James himself. Francis was slightly taken aback by how well the brunet looked. It has been little more than a week and the officer looked far fresher and healthier than he did when they had parted in Greenhithe. His hair was well groomed, there was colour in his cheeks, and his eyes sparkled as they observed the new arrival. Francis’s luggage was taken from him before he can even say a word and he stepped forward to greet his friend.

“James!” He reached out to shake the other’s hand, warmly. “You look very well!” He can’t help the toothy grin that plastered his face; the gap in his front teeth visible. It healed his heart to see his friend looking so well. “Brighton suits you!”

james’ cane is delivered from town four days before francis is due to arrive. he thrills at the excuse to lap the house with post in hand, arguing the benefits of learning early to combine simple tasks with walking whenever william gives him a solicitous look. he aches dreadfully at sundown, but by then has learned how to balance his weight and pace his steps, and has memorized every mark of francis’ letter.

he writes him before next post, after he’s settled for the evening but before he’s caught his breath, which he finds is much slower coming back to him now.

dear francis,

in truth, i do not talk as freely as i used to, but when pressed i cannot stop talking of you—your bodily presence may tame this need yet. william will be glad to know you at last, and assuredly will not complain to have me speak of other things. it is no imposition to have you with us.

he stops to reread francis’ writing and lingers on the phrasing at the end of his first paragraph—‘which i do not recommend’—with a feeling of warmth at the picture of him journeying grumpily by carriage to buckinghamshire. were james younger and more able, and the suggestion less ridiculous, he’d propose transporting francis himself, by horseback or by wagon or by foot.

with the faintest, most innocent of blushes, he thinks: the train will suffice.

he takes to the next portion of his reply with no small amount of dread.

i have been seen to, though i was unable to brave as thorough an examination as they wished to give. there is only so much one can hear about the failings of one’s own body before something of a fit takes grip. i am afraid i have shamed my brother in succumbing to such a display. they tell me there shall always be pain and struggle, which does not come as a surprise.

perhaps you will share your tonic?

i admit that this expectancy is much like arriving in greenhithe. i suppose i was more frightened, then, to disappoint my collectors. yet you have seen me.

travel well.

yours,

james

james wakes early on the day. he grooms himself in slow steps, allotting time to rest and eat between them, although not so much that he can spend the afternoon fretting. he chooses several outfits for francis’ calling—only briefly considering full uniform—and lays them in a row across his bed, debating internally for hours about which of the selection will make him look most human; most like himself.

he settles on a waistcoat in warm tones with hopes of accentuating the rich browns and subtler golds of his eyes. he approaches his private washbasin suspecting that the duller notes of rust color in his hair will be made more vibrant as well, and is instead shaken by what he observes. his hair has had time to grow from when it was cut short on king william island, many months ago now, and what he’d reasoned was the result of an uneven shear returned in staggered patches is, in actuality, grey and white about the temples and more sparsely at his crown. he’s relieved for its restored health and lengthening waves, but not its pigment.

he descends regardless in high spirits, only preening more than he’d like to. elizabeth stops his hands in one instance and tells him he looks well, color in his cheeks and life in his step, no matter how it pains him. thin as he is, he does agree that he cuts a respectable figure of a man, fooling his audience with deceptive dress. it is a favorable waistcoat, and his topcoat is quite fine.

his nerves climb as the sun lowers in the sky. the main floor is bathed in orange and yellow light, painting each room romantically as a dream.

he stands, handsome cane in hand, at the first sound of someone rattling up the drive.