#Geometry Homework Answers

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

As the first math anon (the one with the failed exam), I really do appreciate you writing out a response for me. I will sincerely take your advice and tips to heart.

I hope it helps, anon!! If there's any specific parts giving you trouble (except geometry bestie sorry) I'm happy to try and help break it down!

[libraryofgage]

After checks calendar 84 years, I am once again offering Smart Steve content lmao

Listen the writer's block has been hitting recently if you couldn't tell, but I'm still happy with how this came out.

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :P

----

So.

Steve Harrington is smart.

Like, smart smart.

Like, the kind of smart where he not only understands shit, he can explain complicated shit to Eddie without sending his brain into a coma.

It's been two weeks, and Eddie is still trying to come to terms with this discovery. He's four tutoring sessions in and a little spark of surprise still rocks him whenever Steve can easily explain a new topic using the stuff Eddie likes.

He explained velocity using D&D spells. He explained electrical circuits using the concept of plugging a guitar into an amp. After asking a few questions about Lord of the Rings, Steve Harrington managed to explain the in-depth concepts of magnetism using the fucking One Ring.

How the fuck is Eddie supposed to be normal about any of that? Ignoring the sheer fact that Steve is capable of it, how is Eddie supposed to feel about the...the willingness to learn what Eddie understands best and meet him on that level?

If the answer is awed and practically starstruck, he's ahead of the game.

"Hey, you doing okay? Kinda spacing out over there, man."

Eddie blinks, the textbook in front of him coming back into focus. Steve had been explaining the concept of momentum, but his words just floated in one ear and out the other because Eddie was once again consumed by the absurdity of the situation.

It's not like he can say that, though. So, instead, he settles for a grimace and pushes the textbook away. "I think I'm all fried out for physics," he says, looking up at Steve.

"Oh," Steve says, blinking a few times before nodding. "Yeah, sure, uh, sorry."

"Wait, what are you sorry about?"

Steve looks away, an awkward frown tugging at his lips. "I...probably wasn't explaining it too well, huh?"

"Woah, woah, no way," Eddie says, putting a stop to that train of thought before it can leave the station. He turns in his chair to face Steve directly, ignoring how the metal rod that attaches it to the desk digs painfully against his shin. "Listen, Stevie, I've never understood physics more than when you explain it. Like, I don't know, man, whatever you're doing works."

Steve must have been more worried than he let on, because Eddie can literally see the tension draining from his shoulders. "Great," he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances away. "Seriously, that's great. I'm glad nothing's been confusing."

"Yeah, so, nothing you did," Eddie says, feeling like he needs to reiterate that point to drive it home. "Honestly, you could probably even make me understand geometry. Not like our teacher is doing shit to help."

"Do you...not understand geometry?" Steve asks, looking a little unsure like he can't tell if that's a joke or Eddie's attempt at suggesting another class he needs help in. This one is a class they share, which means Steve will have seen Eddie's floundering attempts at answering questions, and he feels a whole new burn of embarrassment course through him.

"Do you?" Eddie asks in return.

"Yeah. It's just, like, angles and shit, man."

Eddie stares at him for a moment, eyes narrowing and trying to figure out if Steve is somehow, subtly, making fun of him. But of course he isn't. If Eddie has learned nothing else, it's that Steve doesn't ever think Eddie is actually stupid or deserving of ridicule. He just thinks Eddie hasn't been taught properly, which is more on the teacher than him.

After a moment, Eddie twists around to dig in his bag. He pulls out his geometry homework, slaps it on the desk, and gestures at the triangles and squares and other shapes with unidentified angles and side lengths. "I have literally no clue what the fuck is going on here," he says.

Steve moves closer, looking over the sheet with a slight frown. Eddie knows this face by now. It's the one Steve makes when he's searching for the relevant knowledge in his own brain, pulling it to the front so he can easily identify the gaps in Eddie's understanding. "So, how would you start?" Steve finally asks, offering his pencil.

Eddie takes it, twirls it between his fingers a few times, and looks over the questions. He eventually chooses one asking him to find the length of a side. "I know this one. It's the equation with the squares and shit," he says, carefully writing it out and plugging in numbers under the triangle.

"Right. Pythagorean theorem. A squared plus B squared equals C squared."

"Yeah. That," Eddie says, working through the math on a separate sheet of paper instead of in his head. He can do easy addition and subtraction, but one of the first things Steve did was get him used to using scratch paper. His brain doesn't feel quite as crowded by numbers anymore; now it's just crowded by the endless rotation of bites of knowledge and equations that have nothing to do with the work at hand. It's like his brain can recognize that it needs to remember something, but can't identify what exactly, so it just offers up everything.

When he's done, Eddie shows Steve his work, the answer circled at the bottom of the scratch paper. "Perfect," Steve says, flashing a smile that makes Eddie's heart lurch dangerously. "Okay, so that's solid. What about this one."

He points at a right triangle with only one angle listed and the other marked as unknown. "No fucking clue," Eddie says.

"This one is asking for the unknown angle. It'll just be some subtraction."

"It's only giving me one angle, Stevie," Eddie points out, gesturing to the angle marked as 53. "What the fuck do I do with that?"

"Well, the main thing is that a triangles angles will always add to 180. Also, this is a right triangle," Steve explains, taking the pencil from Eddie to circle the L-shaped corner of the triangle. "This angle will always be 90 degrees on right triangles. Should I keep going?"

"No," Eddie says slowly, drawing the word out as he takes the pencil back. "I'm starting to get it. Lemme try."

Steve waits patiently as Eddie hesitates before adding the angles together and subtracting that from 180. When he gets to a solution of 37, he gestures for Steve to check.

"That's right," Steve says, nodding as he points to another triangle on the sheet. "For this one, I'll teach you about the SOH CAH TOA trick."

Eddie nods, paying as much attention as he can, but he can't help feeling a little distracted by Steve's happy smile and relaxed posture. He's never seen Steve like this during class, and he's struck by the sudden notion that nobody else will see Steve like this, either.

------

When Steve gets home, he drops his bag in the hallway, grabs a soda from the kitchen, and collapses onto the couch.

A few National Geographic and Scientific American magazines are still spread out across the coffee table. A brief glance reminds Steve that none of the stories were particularly interesting in these editions.

He pops the tab on his soda, takes a sip, and glances at the phone on the end table next to him.

Steve had noticed something today. Eddie's shirt. Most of the band shirts Eddie wears are popular enough that Steve sort of knows them. Metallica, KISS, and AC/DC were recognizable since he's passed their albums on display in record stores.

Today's band, though. He didn't recognize that one. What the fuck was Manowar?

After a few seconds of thought, Steve reaches out and grabs the phone. He's just doing research. Wanting to understand the music Eddie likes is reasonable. That's how Eddie learns. There's no other reason for Steve dialing the number of an old classmate.

The phone rings a few times before picking up. "Amare residence," a girl says, sounding distracted.

"Hey, Dee. It's Steve."

"Hmm, Steve. Steve. ...Steeeeve. Oh, is this Steve Harrington, deserter of friends for the woes of public education?"

Despite everything, Steve can't help an amused smile. "Yeah, that Steve," he says. He doesn't apologize, since he knows that's not what she wants. If she was actually angry, she would've hung up.

"Well, how kind of you to grace me with your voice," Dee says, sounding distant like she's set the phone down. "I suppose I can give you until I finish braiding my hair."

"Great. You know about metal, right?"

"Like iron? Duh, Steve, I'm not thirteen."

"No, like, heavy metal."

"Iron is pretty heavy."

"Music, Dee. Heavy metal music."

"Oh! Aren't you a Tears for Fears kind of boy? What are you doing asking about heavy metal?"

Steve starts to answer but stops himself. He doesn't know why. Dee tutors kids all the time. Everyone in their private school group did. That's how they made money. She'd understand that he's trying to learn more about Eddie's interests for tutoring purposes.

So why can't he just say that?

"This long pause says you're thinking about lying to me," Dee says. "Don't bother, Steve."

"Well, I do want to know for the guy I'm tutoring. But not just because I'm tutoring him."

"Awww, are you trying to make a friend?" Dee teases.

Steve grimaces, wondering why his stomach twists slightly at the question. "Yeah, kind of. I want to know more about the stuff he likes. And he likes heavy metal. So, ya know, I thought of you."

"Well, you've come to the right place," Dee says. "And I love talking music, so I guess we can keep talking even after I'm done braiding."

A relieved smile tugs at Steve's lips. "Thanks, Dee, I appreciate it. So, first question, what's Manowar?"

-------

Tag List!

@estrellami-1, @ravenfrog,

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hello could you write one where the reader is basically buckys kid and they get hurt and try to hide it from him but he notices something is up and it isn’t until it’s really bad he finds out? I know very odd sorry

Didn’t Want To Worry You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Adopted Teen Daughter!Reader

Summary: You didn’t want to worry Bucky when you tell him you hurt yourself at school, but he somehow finds out.

Warnings: Fluff, language, crying, nicknames

Age of reader: 15 years old

A/N: Thank you for the request @parasitichamster14-blog 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You were hoping that your dad wasn’t home yet. You didn’t want him to know that you hurt yourself at school today. In gym class, you guys played basketball and you got knocked down and fell onto your wrist. Now, it won’t stop hurting. You should’ve went to the nurse’s office for an ice pack, but you had a feeling that she was going to call your dad.

You looked around the apartment when you got home from school, wondering if your dad was home or not. You didn’t see him and assumed you were in the clear. Or so you thought. He came home shortly after you did.

“Hey, doll. How was school?” Bucky asks as he hugs you.

“Good.” You replied.

Bucky noticed the way you were holding your left wrist against your stomach. He was hoping that you weren’t getting sick or something.

“Do you have a stomach ache or something?” He asks, referring to the way your wrist was against your stomach.

“No. I hurt myself at school is all.” You say.

“How?” He asks.

“We were playing basketball in gym today and I got knocked down and I fell onto my wrist wrong.” You tell him.

“Be careful next time, kiddo. I don’t want you to end up with a broken wrist or something.” He says.

“I will.” You say.

You went to your bedroom and closed the door behind you, sighing to yourself. You hate that you didn’t tell your dad that your wrist hurts really bad, but you didn’t want to worry him. He’s a worrier when you’re sick or hurt. You took an aspirin for the pain and did your homework. The pain subsided till you were almost done with your Geometry homework.

“Doll?” Bucky knocks on your bedroom door. “Are you finished with your homework? I was thinking that we could go out for dinner.” He says.

“Almost.” You say with a smile.

Bucky nods and smiles, closing your bedroom door so you can finish your homework. Your smile fades away. You winced in pain, holding your wrist. You finished your homework, trying not to let the pain get to you. You put your homework back in your backpack when you were done. Bucky was watching TV when you walked in the living room.

“I’m done with my homework.” You say.

“Where do you want to go eat?” Bucky asks, shutting the TV off.

“What about that diner we like?” You suggested.

“Good choice, kiddo.” He smiles.

On the way to the diner and during dinner, Bucky watched you wince in pain every time you moved your left wrist. It was starting to get worried.

“Are you sure your wrist is ok?” Bucky asks.

“It’s fine, dad. It’s probably going to have a bruise on it tomorrow or something.” You say.

Bucky took that as an answer. He kept his eyes on you. On the way home from the diner, Bucky could tell you were holding back tears due to the pain you have in your left wrist. He pulled over into a random parking lot and put the car in park.

“Show me your wrist.” Bucky says.

“Dad, I’m fine.” You say.

“You’re clearly not. I can tell you’re in pain.” He says.

You stared at your dad for a second before rolling the sleeve of your sweatshirt up. Bucky took a look at your wrist.

“I hate to say it, doll, but I think your wrist might be sprained.” Bucky says.

You whined, your eyes filling with tears.

“You’re going to be fine, doll. Let get you checked out in the emergency room and then we’ll go home, ok?” He says softly.

“Ok.” You almost whispered.

Bucky took you to the emergency room to get your wrist checked out. Your anxiety was through the roof. You didn’t want to be there. Lucky for you, your dad stayed by your side the whole time.

“I want to go home.” You whined.

“We’ll go home in a little bit.” Bucky says softly.

You pouted and slouched in the chair. You sat up straight when the doctor walked in the room.

“Good news is your wrist isn’t broken. Bad news is it’s fractured and you have to wear a wrist brace for a few weeks.” The doctor says.

Bucky felt relieved to hear that you don’t have any broken bones. He is curious to know why you didn’t tell him that your wrist was hurting earlier.

You got a wrist brace and then you finally went home. You were set up in the living room and watching your favorite movie.

“Doll, I want to talk to you for a moment.” Bucky says, sitting down next to you.

“Am I in trouble?” You asked, pausing the movie.

“No. I want to know why you didn’t tell me you were hurt earlier.” He says.

“You worry about me a lot and I didn’t want to worry you.” You say, feeling bad.

“I worry about you, because I love you and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He says softly.

Your eyes teared up. Sometimes you forget how much Bucky cares about you like you’re his own child. That’s why he adopted you shortly after he saved you from HYDRA a few years ago.

“Don’t cry, doll. I’m not mad at you.” Bucky almost whispers, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” You apologized.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I understand.” He says softly.

“Yes I do. Sometimes I forget how much you care about me.” You say, your voice cracking.

“Oh babydoll…” He whispers. “You don’t need to apologize for that.” He whispers again, kissing the top of your head.

Soft sobs slipped past your lips. Bucky held you, his hand rubbing your back to comfort you. Your crying stops after a few minutes.

“I’ll always worry about you, doll. You’re my kid and I love you.” He murmurs softly, kissing the side of your head.

“I love you too, dad.” You smiled up at him.

You pressed play, picking up where you left off on the movie. Bucky watched the movie with you. You learned that you shouldn’t hide any kind of injury from your dad.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[water-to-drink]

How They Became Attracted to You

(Characters): Al haitham, Ayaka, Kaeya, Chiori

(Synopsis): First meetings with the most popular or influential students at the academy

(Tags/Warnings): gn!reader, reader is an artist, school au, reader is a transfer student, possible ooc Chiori, (if I missed something lmk)

(Word Count): 1.4k

(A/n): If you all like this then I’ll make a part two, just tell me which characters you want to see

🦅Al haitham🦅

🦅 The first and only one to best him in a test, a geometry test to be specific. He only came in at 99% while you come in at a perfect 100%

🦅 At first refused to believe that a mere art nerd could get a better score than him and so with as much delicacy as a bull in a china shop Al haitham came up to you and asked you how you got your score

🦅 Being randomly approached by the school’s smartest student you were very nervous and told him that you just did what you learned from class. Seeing that you won’t give him the answer he asks for you to tutor him which you agreed to go it, mostly because you were very nervous under his sharp gaze

🦅 While tutoring it became apparent that you sucked at explaining things to him, don’t get him wrong he already knows the material he just wants to know how and why you got a 100. As these sessions went Al haitham saw how your hands would glide across the paper, the delicacy almost amazed him

🦅 Slowly but surely Al haitham realized that there was more to your shy exterior. You were sassy and quick witted, you could even match his intellect on many topics, he finds himself feeling that he on an equal level with you.

🦅 Now he looks forward to your tutoring sessions, recently you two won’t do any tutoring just do your homework and talk about anything on your mind, the same mind that he finds so interesting and beautiful

🪭Ayaka Kamisato 🪭

🪭 The two of you have seen each other in the hallway before and after classes. She would always see you with a sketchbook in your hands or drawing in it. You didn’t take up too much real estate in her mind, the poor girl has too much going on as the daughter of the Kamisato family. That was until one day where Ayaka was leaving cram school and her chauffeur was stuck in traffic, she was approached by an older man

“What’s a girl like you doing out so late?”

“I’m leaving cram school, sir.”

“Cram school? You kids work so hard, I can show you a good time.”

“Uh, no thank you, sir.”

“C’mon, don’t be so stuck up, live a little-”

“What’s the problem?!”

🪭 There you are, yelling at the top of your lungs, she can tell that you’re scared but you still yell drawing more attention to yourself and the creep in question. Once a lot of people are watching the scene the creep walks off leaving you and her alone

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry that you had to step in.” Ayaka bows her head

“Don’t worry, I saw that you were uncomfortable so I decided to step in. See you around.” You waved goodbye as you walked off and her chauffeur pulled up

🪭 Later Ayaka came to learn that you didn’t know of the prestige that came with the Kamisato name. You came up and scared off the guy of your own volition, thinking that she was just an ordinary girl who needed to be rescued and that is what she’ll continue being to you

🪭 It wouldn’t be hard since you two are in different grades, you being her senior by a year. You would both meet up in a quiet cafe you work at, she learned that it was your family’s business and work there to help your family and to earn some pocket money. The two of you got so close that you even let her look through your sketchbook and Ayaka was amazed by your skills

🪭 When you offered to draw a portrait of her she jumped at the offer. So one day at your family’s cafe you presented her a drawing of her. You drew her as a swordswoman dressed in traditional Inazuman clothing and armor, she profusely thanked you and framed it the moment she got home

🪭 There are some nights where if she can’t sleep mainly because of nerves she’ll take your drawing and look at it, thinking about you would quell her anxiety and give her the best of dreams. Just don’t tell her brother, she’s afraid he’ll scare you off

❄️Kaeya❄️

❄️ Is the complete opposite of his adopted brother, he’s known as the school’s flirt and a total playboy. He makes girls and guys alike go head over heels for him, and you, the new transfer student, is on his radar

❄️ He lives for making innocent things like you into a flustered little mess. So when he sauntered over to you and threw his usual flirty remarks, he wasn’t met with a sheepish face nor an oblivious one. No he was met with a look of disgust

❄️ Without saying anything you walked away from him, leaving him bewildered. Did he do something wrong? Everyone falls for him. Refusing to take this laying down Kaeya decides to find out why weren’t you under his spell

❄️ And so he began to make an attempt to learn more about you, your likes and your dislikes, or your hobbies. At first you would just ignore him when he would try to strike up a conversation and after a few weeks he decided to make a deal with you

“Are you serious?” You asked

“Dead serious. We’ll act as friends and if you still can’t stand me in 2 months, then we’ll stop. Does that sound good?”

“Only if you promise to leave me alone after?”

“If you still can’t stand me.” Kaeya threw his signature smirk

“Ugh fine! But no flirting!”

“I make no promises~”

❄️ The two of you tried to act as friends, before it was awkward but soon you got used to his presence and you slowly began to come out of your shell, finally showing your true colors after about 3 weeks of “friendship”

❄️ Kaeya finds himself laughing at your jokes, actually laughing and not the fake laugh he would do when he’s trying to fuck somebody. Now Kaeya’s heart thumps whenever you would laugh at something or wave at him in the hallway. Oh gods, is he in love?!

❄️ He wishes he didn’t have the reputation he has, he wants more than your body, he wants your heart

🪡Chiori🪡

🪡 The president of the sewing club. Chiori and her club members have made various designs, many of them for the theater group whenever they’re putting on a performance. However the best designers have their slow movements, not being able to come up with any designs that are up to their standards. That is what plaguing Chiori

🪡 One day she finds a random sketchbook in the sewing club. Curiosity getting the best of the young seamstress she flips through the book, there she sees the most beautiful character designs, the obvious inspiration from big names like Chanel, Gucci, and Thierry Mugler, but the person who made these designs are unique to them. It all gives Chiori a surge of inspiration

🪡 Immediately she opens up her own sketchbook and begins drafting up some designs, some are amazing but others don’t compare to the designs in the mysterious sketchbook she found. She must find the person who made this

🪡 She hears the door opening and when she turns her head, she sees you looking a bit embarrassed.

“Uh, I left my sketchbook here, have you seen it?”

“Yes, I have.” Chiori picks up the book and hands it to you. “I looked through it.”

“Wait, what?!”

“And I like what I saw, can I make the designs in this book?”

🪡 So every Tuesday you would go to the sewing club and let Chiori bring life to your designs, the two of you would talk about various fashion styles and designers. Chiori is very impressed by your vast knowledge on how different styles and cultures arose, she might even say it rivals her knowledge (but she won’t)

🪡 The more time you two spend together the more Chiori likes you, she would look forward to your presence right next to her talking her ear off about your characters as she worked. Normally she would play music but the sound of you rambling is more than enough for her

🪡 In the privacy of her room Chiori would often find herself drawing up designs for wedding garments for her and yours wedding, she can’t wait for the day you to call her “my wife”

[sharkboywrites]

please, a sal fisher x autistic male reader

ur writing is so good and I wish I could write like you. lots of love! <3

Sal Fisher With an Autistic Male S/O

A/N: Yayyy writing for Sally Face I love this game sm, I'm considering replaying it (I need to but it on my switch tho). I just love this game and all of the characters, it holds my heart, so exited to write for it, Sorry it got a lil angsty at the end, but I guess we all know how the game ends :(

Male Reader, Autistic Reader

The two of you probably met through school

You were the 'weird" quiet kid, didn't talk a lot, needed some help in class, and all around didn't have many friends

It was the average school day, the average torture of high school, when Sal showed up

A new kid from New Jersey is what you overheard from all the other kids, but you figured with your luck a new student wouldn't take any type of interest in you

That was until you saw him

A shorter boy with blue hair and a prosthetic mask

He was in your geometry class, and since the rest of the desks and tables were filled up, except for yours because you wanted to sit by yourself and nobody else wanted to sit with you, he sat right next to you

Normally the popular groups of kids would beg the new student to sit with them, find some way to open up a seat, but not this time

But not with Sal, his prosthetic mask and rather cold and blunt demeanor putting everybody else off

Not you though, you knew what it was like to be different

You didn't mind his mask, or his personality, in fact you could relate to him, not that you started talking to him at first, you were still too scared

As the year went on, the two of you did start talking a little bit, chats about the lessons, how much you despised the teacher, and even giving each other the homework answers when you forgot to do it

You saw him in the hallways and on the way to lunch, hanging out with his friends like Larry and Ash, but you never joined them

You would probably sit with them at lunch, that is if you went to lunch

The cafeteria was way to loud, so you were able to sit in the counselors office for lunch instead

It was after Sal defended you from Travis that you actually started to become closer

The two of you talked more often, found you both have similar interests, and bonded on what made the both of you different from everybody else

You even started to get closer with his friend group and finally felt like you belonged there

It was in your junior year when the two of you got together, although you kept it under the radar for obvious reasons (Travis)

You'd spend days going over to the apartment, meeting his dad, listening to him play the guitar, petting Gizmo, playing video games, and doing the usual spooky apartment activities

You never really got into their shenanigans, sometimes Sal would tell you all about them and sometimes he would be more hesitant

But the whole bologna incident was hard to hide, good thing you never ate those sandwiches

It took a while before he took his mask off in front of you, but when he did he was a bit worried you'd leave him completely

It took a lot of reassuring and comforting that day, but he was more assured and felt a lot better, more comfortable around you

After high school you didn't live together, but you were still close

You'd come over to the boy's place as often as you could, to the point they joked that you lived there

Larry and Todd would poke fun of you and Sal about your relationship, but you would do the same to Todd and Neil

When Ash showed back up, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy with the time they were spending together, although you trust the both of them and would probably never admit it

Of course, with Sal doing his best to keep you out of the paranormal activity, you didn't know when things started to go down hill

When it came out about the murders, you were terrified

You testified up and down that Sal would never do such a thing, but the evidence was all there

Before he was gone, he told you that he had to do it, although you couldn't really understand what he was trying to say

And just like that, you were alone again, people constantly bugging you, trying to get information for whatever true crime podcast they were running, even though you tried to ignore it

Once again you were alone, constantly pointed and poked at, and now Sal wasn't here to comfort you

Uggh I hurt my own feelings at the end. I heard there's supposed to be a second game at some point, which I'm super exited for, ty for reading and have a nice day

[inconsistent-kuroshitsuji-blog]

Can I request Sebastian with a gender neutral s/o (or master) who had a mental breakdown bcs of math and acted like nothing happened infront of him? (I'm gonna lose my mind over math)

My dearie, of course. I know, it has been a while, but now I am here. (That sounded like I'm some sort god-figure.) I'm about 90% sure that I have completely lost my mind over math and have no way of getting it back.

Sebastian comforting you after you lose your mind over your math homework

When the fuck did math get letters? Why does math need letters? Why must it make a problem out of everything? Who cares at what degree a certain angle of a roof of a weird art exhibition is. Why should you care at what height a discoball is located if a laser hits it at a certain angle? And who even thinks of such ridiculous problems?

Advanced education? More like an advanced headache. You've sat here at your desk for about three hours, longer than you planned to. You were just trying to do your homework, but nothing was working out. The numbers didn't add up, you don't even know where to start at. It is all too much, too much at once, you just can't handle it anymore.

Throwing away your pencil, you start sobbing over that darned piece of paper. What is this supposed to teach you? Well, nothing that matters to you, of course, yet you're still forced to keep up with algebra and geometry and analysis, totally useless in your daily life. If only these problems were solvable with tears. The only thing they do for you right now is smudge your already hastily written tasks and solutions. Oh, how you hate this. You can only hate this. How could you ever do anything else-?

Your door opens. What now? Who has come to bother you at your lowest point of the day?

"Is everything alright, my dear?", you hear, yet you don't look up. You don't have to do so to know who is there. You'd recognise his gentle voice in a crowded room full of people who don't know how to properly adjust their voice volume. You also want to save yourself from the embarrassment of him seeing your puffy red eyes. So you only mumble something into your arm, something along the lines of "Maybe, I don't know, leave me alone.".

But he didn't. Of course he didn't leave, he never really does what you tell him to. Just like his beloved cats, Sebastian does what he feels like doing at any given point. So if he wants to physically see your tears for his amusement, he will watch them slowly run down your cheeks. You hear how he places something infront of you.

"If everything truly was alright, you'd show me your beautifull face. So, look up for me.". That snarky bastard. You'd hate him for that if you didn't love him more. So you slowly look up to him, eyes all puffy and swollen. "See? I'm fine.". You finally realised he placed a batch of biscuits infront of you, freshly made of course. Sebastian looks down at you with that smirk he always seems to have on his face. "Well, I don't believe you. You're a bad liar, kitten. What is troubling you?". He doesn't even wait for your answer, he just looks down and responds with a little "Ah.". He saw everything he needed to see.

"Is your scholarship too hard on you again? Or is it you being too hard on yourself?", he asked while sitting down next to you. He seemingly tries to make out what you wrote, but it is simply incomprehensible thanks to your tears. "I told you already, it's nothing. Just some stupid problems. As if I would've brought them to class anyway..."

"Frustrated, are we?". "Shut it...", you deliberately look away, yet he pulls you into his arms and starts to stroke your head. "Now, no need to cry over silly made up numbers and problems. Rest your head for now.". Sebastian slightly nudges your head onto his chest. Maybe he's right. You should take a little break, just for now.

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

Phew, finally something fresh on my paige. As you can guess, I'm well and alive, more alive than well but alive nonetheless. I'll see how I can get back on track. But until then, I will fulfill the meaning of my name by disappearing suddenly and reappearing again. Like a little ghost.

Until then~

Your Inconsistent Kuroshitsuji Blog~

[cutiejimmyballs]

me and 1 of my irls had a conversation abt the club in school because the lack of content about it and i wanna share my thots, mayhaps

bill is a physics guy, or just science classes in general. overall though i doubt he would actually gaf about school. bill does his work and leaves; he doesnt do extra credit, he doesn't study, he looks up the answers to homework. hes the kinda guy to use chatgpt for an essay and slightly edit it

josh is a history nerd guys, i feel it deep down inside me. i think he'd throw down a mean essay for ELA-- he could potentially write a good argumentative essay if he genuinely tried and didn't get caught up in whining about his side being the best, the day hes normal hes gonna chew you all

pete likes ELA. hes good at literary analysis and comprehension, he reads classic horror guys. he cant write a good essay to save his life. him and bill both THINK they can write a good argumentative essay but its full of strawmans, incorrect information, insults, and whining. he'd probably suck balls at math and complain about it all the time. like bill i also see him not doing extra credit, studying, and he wouldn't even attempt homework-- also slightly related but if he wasnt such a fag i think hed do tech theatre. i can see him telling the actors he works harder than they do. hed do technical design, costuming, and makeup (and maybe help build set.) hes way too insecure tho and i doubt his family would even let him

jerry enjoys algebra and geometry. i dont think he'd like reading but he's definitely great at creative writing, he DMs for the club. he could probably write a nice informational essay and i imagine josh could too (bill and pete could if its something they like.) like pete i imagine jerry is also a closeted theatre kid but instead he acts. jerry is great at improv, he DMs for the club. he would love improv games and being ensemble or having small parts but hate being main cast. like pete he doesn't actually do it though, just potentially, he calls theatre gay even though he enjoys it a lot. the club would also clown him too hard. also jerry would probably have a crush on one of his teachers

thats all ig <\33 i might delete out of embarrassment later, i js had to share chz i think abt this a lot

[yikesharringrove]

steve being absolutely whipped for steve is my favorite thing ever. like ok what if they were friends and billy likes steve, and steve's oblivious to it but billy will drop whatever he's doing to make steve's like a the tiniest bit easier and it's so cute

It all starts with homework.

Homework Steve dropped on the floor in the hallway, to be more specific.

He fucking tripped and his shit went everywhere, and he was scrambling to pick it all up, when he noticed another pair of hands shuffling with his papers.

“Thanks, Hargrove,” he muttered.

“Most of these are wrong.” Steve snatched the math worksheet out of his hands, his face hot as he stuffed it in his backpack.

He tried to push past the absolutely solid wall that was Billy Hargrove, but the other boy kept blocking him.

“C’mon, I’ll help you.”

“I don’t need any help.”

It was a fucking lie. He knew he’d gotten most of the problems wrong. They were working on some weird formula that had to do with area, or volume, or something like that. And Steve really didn’t understand it.

But he didn’t want any help from fucking Hargrove, who would just spread it around the school that Steve Harrington is in remedial geometry as a senior.

But Hargrove had reached into Steve's backpack, and yanked out the assignment, using the pencil he had stored behind his ear to erase Steve’s shitty work.

“All you have to do is multiply the length by the width by the height. And that’s volume.”

Steve had added those three values and then cubed them. It had taken him hours.

“I know.”

Billy gave him a scathing look.

“Meet me in the library at lunch, and we’ll fix it.”

-

Steve wasn’t actually expecting Billy to be there, but he was. And they fixed Steve’s math.

And he got an A on the homework, his first one all year.

So it became a thing. They’d do Steve’s math homework at lunch together. And Billy would walk him through the tough problems, and clap him on the back when he got something by himself.

His teacher noticed his progress, and congratulated him on it.

“I got a tutor,” he told her.

They were studying on some random Thursday together, Billy with his nose in some worn-out novel, periodically peeking over the pages to take a look at Steve's math homework.

He was doing much better, and now Billy only had to silently point to an incorrect answer for Steve to go back and fix it.

Steve's stomach rumbled, breaking the silence,

"Jesus, Harrington. I think your stomach is trying to eat itself."

Steve rolled his eyes, but he smiled at Billy.

"Seriously, just eat lunch."

There technically was a rule against food in the library, but the librarian liked Billy, and tended to turn a blind eye to whatever he was doing at his usual back table.

Steve checked his watch.

"I'll just grab something later. I need to finish this."

He kept working on his math. His stomach growled again.

Billy sighed.

He dug into his bag, pulling out the crumpled brown paper bag Susan has passed him in the morning. She always made him lunch after a rough night with his dad.

Consolation prize, he guesses.

He pulled out the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, placing one half on Steve's open textbook.

Steve looked at him with round eyes.

"Nah dude, that's your lunch. I can get something after school."

"Like hell. Just eat the sandwich, Harrington."

Steve scarfed the first half like a small animal, and Billy glared at him until he had the second half.

He'll be okay, he can just sneak some food at home before his dad gets back from work.

-

"Harrington! How many times," Coach yelled from the sidelines. "You're leaving yourself too open!"

Steve was breathing hard, sprinting down the court after being bowled over by one of the guys on the other team.

It was deafening in the gym, the stands packed full.

Steve was playing like shit. The other team was dogging him, stealing the ball from him, blocking his every move.

He was point guard to Billy's shooting guard.

Billy yanked him by the back of the jersey, pulling him back to mutter in his ear.

Steve nodded once.

It was a good play, a simple pick and roll.

The other team scored, and Billy nodded at Steve.

They brought it down the court, and Billy made eye contact with Steve as he moved to set a pick on the asshole guard that kept knocking Steve down.

Steve moved, sprinting to the basket to finally make a fucking shot.

As he moved, the guard followed, but there was Billy.

They collided hard, and Billy got knocked flat on his ass.

His head cracked against the wooden floor, and he saw stars for a second.

He was fucking pleased as punch to see the other guard flat on his back, too. Looking as dazed as Billy felt.

There was a hand in front of his face, and he took it, allowing Steve to bring him to his feet, a look of concern in his big eyes.

"You okay, dude?"

"You score?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'm fine." He clapped Steve on the shoulder, jogging back to get in the game, shaking off the dizzy spell.

-

Billy paid no mind to the phone ringing.

He was sat at the kitchen table, finishing up his chemistry homework.

Sometimes he and Max did homework at the kitchen table together. Neil would give approving looks when he walked by if he saw Billy helping her with something she pretended not to understand.

"Hargrove residence." Neil was the only one who answered the phone that way. The rest of them said Hargrove-Mayfield.

Billy tightened his grip on his pencil.

He could feel his dad's eyes on the back of his head, standing straight against the wall where the phone was mounted.

"Yes, he is here."

Fuck.

What could Billy have done now? He's been a model fucking citizen for the past week.

And no one can trace that fucking fire under the bleachers back to him. Besides, he put it out before anything could really get burned.

"Billy, the phone's for you."

At least if he was in trouble, the person wouldn't be asking to speak with him.

Billy stood up, ignoring Max's questioning look.

Billy took the phone, not making eye contact with his dad.

"Hey! Sorry, I know this is weird, but I got your phone number from Max a little while ago, and I know usually we just study during school, but I am so fucking confused on this assignment. And I'll pay you! I'll even order food if you want to come over to help me. Oh! This is Steve by the way."

As if Billy wouldn't recognize his rambling.

"Um, sure. I can help you." He looked at his dad. "And no need to pay me."

"Just try to get out of here without any money. I dare you. So, can you come over? Tonight? This is due tomorrow."

Billy wasn't supposed to leave on school nights.

"Can you give me a second? Please?" He didn't wait for Steve to respond, he just lowered the phone.

"Dad," he started.

"How long have you been tutoring that Harrington boy?" Neil's voice was unreadable.

"A few weeks. Mostly at school. He needs some help tonight, and uh, offered to pay me if I come by his place."

"And you said you didn't want to be paid?"

"Yes, sir."

Billy tried his very best not to flinch when his dad patted him on the shoulder.

"That's good. Rubbing elbows with the Harrigntons. I was wondering why they didn't press charges when you beat that boy to a pulp."

Billy fucking hated when Neil brought that shit up.

It wasn't his fault he has a hard time controlling his rage. If anything, it's Neil's fault for slapping him around before sending him on an errand.

Steve just happened to kinda get in the way.

But Billy apologized, and Steve said he got over it, and clearly he did, if he's inviting Billy over to his house to work on his homework.

He raised the phone back up to his ear.

"Sure, I can help you. But I can't be out late. It's a school night."

Neil nodded approvingly, and Billy flipped him the bird the second he turned his back.

"Yeah, whatever. The front door's unlocked, just come upstairs when you're here."

Steve didn't even wait for a reply before he ended the call, and Billy quietly placed the phone back on the receiver.

He cleaned up his own homework, and took his bag with him.

"Billy," his dad said as he was halfway out the back door. "Curfew's at 8:30. And I'll be locking the door."

"Yes, sir."

-

Harrington's house is fuckin' huge.

Billy should've expected it, with Steve's family being as well connected as they were.

He let himself into the house, as Steve had told him to do, and was immediately met with a slight woman, staring at him like he'd just walked uninvited into her home.

"Uh," he said. Why the fuck would Steve tell him to just come in? "I'm Billy? Billy Hargrove. Steve's tutor."

And then her face brightened, and holy shit, Steve looks exactly like his mom.

"He is upstairs, I'll show you." She waved him to follow behind her and she took off up the stairs.

Billy scrambled to kick his boots off and raced after her.

She was lean like Steve, with long legs and insanely thick,dark brown hair that went clear down to her ass.

(Steve even kinda has his mom's perfect ass.)

She knocked on the door to Steve's room, even though it was slightly ajar, and let herself in.

Steve was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, all curled up and sitting cross-legged on his chair.

"Tesoro, il tuo amico è qui."

Steve turned, and he fucking beamed at Billy.

"Grazie, Mamma." He waved Billy over in the same motion his mother had done downstairs.

Billy felt awkward in the room, and his face felt hot, and his palms were sweaty.

"Avete bisogno di qualcosa?" She asked, and holy shit, how has it taken Billy this long to realize that Steve and his mother were not even speaking fucking English to one another.

He knew he was staring.

"No, grazie."

She smiled again at Billy as she left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

"Damn, your mom's hot," was all Billy could think to say.

Luckily, it worked. Steve rolled his eyes, turning back to his work and shaking his head. But Billy could see a tiny smile on his face.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't start that shit and just help me with this, okay?"

Billy peered over his shoulder.

Steve was working on an English assignment, the same one Billy had completed last week.

It was a questionnaire about the Shakespeare play they had read in class, Othello.

Billy knew it was grueling, fifty multiple choice, ten matching, and three essay questions.

He had the book open text to him, and there had been lines and passages highlighted and annotated.

"This shit was nasty. I did it last week."

Steve scrunched his brows up at Billy.

"You're in English 12? How? You're a junior?"

Billy shrugged.

"That's just what I tested into when I moved here. I was on a fast track in California." Yeah, he would've probably gotten to graduate a semester early, if they had stayed.

"Okay, well, then you can help me. Because I can barely read as it is, and this stupid Shakespeare stuff just doesn't even make sense."

He put his head down on his desk, leaning his forehead against the questionnaire and groaning loudly.

"It's like another language. You have to learn to translate it. I mean, you and your mom were speakin' something, so you know how to do this."

"Yeah, and that's kinda the problem." Steve sat up, looking at Billy. Billy moved to sit on the corner of his desk. "My mom's from Italy, and I didn't even speak English until I was like, six. Regular English has never made sense to me, and then they give us this shit." He flipped the book closed harshly.

Billy had to bite his tongue, because the only thing he could think to say was you sure do talk a lot for someone who allegedly doesn't understand English. But he didn't really wanna be a dick right now.

"Okay. Here's what will do. We'll answer as many questions as you can. Once we get to the ones about specific passages, I'll read them in plain terms, and you'll be fine, okay?"

Steve nodded glumly, but he picked up his pencil.

"Okay, dude. You can definitely answer this first question."

Question one: Who wrote Othello.

Steve circled the correct answer and Billy pat him on the head. Steve glared at him playfully.

They went through the questions.

Some were easy, and clearly all Steve needed was a cheerleader, because he circled the correct ones right away.

But then, some were fucking difficult.

"Okay, question 36: What is the significance of Othello's handkerchief?"

Steve flipped through the book desperately.

"What fucking handkerchief?"

-

It was a little past eight, and Steve was just barely halfway through the packet.

He was clearly trying not to get frustrated, as he came across harder and harder questions, understanding less and less.

"So, in the passage, Iago is basically trying to turn Othello against Desdemona. He's saying that if she deceived her father, she would deceive Othello."

"But, I don't get why she lied to her dad. Like, what was the lie?"

"He didn't want her to get married to Othello, but she did anyway."

Steve just looked desperately at Billy.

"So, she did cheat on Othello? And Iago is telling him about it?"

"No, she didn't Iago is trying to fuck with Othello."

"Wait, so Desdemona did nothing wrong, and then Othello still kills her?" He looked incredulous.

"Yeah, man. It's Shakespeare. In the tragedies, everyone dies. In the comedies, everyone fucks."

"Why?"

"Because it was Elizabethan England, and everyone was fucking and dying, and half of these stories are based on the Greek plays that came before, in which everyone just fucked and died."

"I wish my life was like that. I just wanna fuck. And then die." Steve put his pencil down, leaning back in his chair. "I'm sorry, man. That I dragged you here to help me with this. I'm just fucking dumb."

Billy smacked Steve in the back of the head, and he yelped, glaring at Billy and rubbing the spot where Billy had merely tapped him.

"You're not stupid. This is hard. Now, let's keep going. This isn't gonna finish itself."

-

Billy ended up finally leaving Steve's close to ten.

His mom thanked him for helping Steve, and shoved a wad of cash in his hand that Billy felt too awkward to count until he had parked in his spot behind his house.

Jesus Christ, she gave him fifty bucks.

He put it with the rest of his stash, in the locked glove compartment, and wiggled into the back seat.

He doesn't doubt that his dad had locked the house promptly at curfew. He doesn't doubt that he was gonna get his shit rocked tomorrow after school when he showed up back at home.

But Steve had finished his assignment, and had flung his arms around Billy when it was finally over, and it's okay. Billy can take a few smacks.

-

"Hey!"

Billy turned to see Steve rushing towards him down the hall. His cheeks were pink and he was beaming.

He thrust the assignment from last night into Billy's hands, and there was a big red A- on the top.

"That's my best English grade, like, ever. Thank you! Seriously, Billy. Thank you so much. I'm taking you out for dinner this weekend, okay? To say thank you. I'll buy you a burger and a milkshake, and anything you want."

"Nah, man. Your mom paid me last night, it's okay."

Steve shook his head, his hair flopping onto his forehead, and he pushed it back, still grinning. Fuck, he's so pretty.

"Can it. We're going to the dinner and you're gonna eat fries until you puke, okay? We're going Friday."

Friday.

Billy's supposed to help Susan trim all the hedges on Friday.

Okay, if he wakes up early, he can do the front before school, and if he comes home during his free period, he could-

"Sure, Pretty Boy. Friday."

-

He was up before the sun, cutting hedges.

He had to shower before school, which he fucking hates doing, because he doesn't have enough time to properly do his hair in the mornings.

But he finished them.

He finished them all.

And he told Susan such when she handed him his pity packed lunch that morning.

She thanked him, and his dad narrowed his eyes.

"Why?" He barked.

Billy tried to act casual.

"Couldn't sleep, thought I'd just get it out of the way."

Neil didn't stop staring suspiciously at Billy until he and Max had closed the backdoor behind them.

"Why did you really do all that this morning?" Max asked when they were safe in the car.

"Jus' have plans after school."

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, that's rich. You're going on a date."

Well, he hopes so.

But that's never gonna happen.

The school day seemed to pass as slowly as fucking possible. He was anxious all day, fidgety and nervous, and a tiny bit sweaty.

Steve was leaning against his car outside when Billy finally stomped away from the school, and he smiled brightly at Billy.

"Should we just meet at the diner?"

"Yeah. I gotta drive Max, so." He gestured lamely.

"Okay. See you in a bit." Steve tapped the hood of the Camaro, and normally Billy would've threatened to bite anyone that knocked into his car like that, but Steve can kinda do whatever he wants as far as Billy is concerned.

Billy made sure to idle in front of the house, making sure Max got inside alright, and making sure his dad watched him drop her off.

He'd be in worse shit if Neil thought Billy made Max walk home by herself.

But he sped back into town the second the screen door slammed closed behind her.

Steve already had a booth when Billy arrived, and he waved Billy down enthusiastically, as if Billy didn't hone in on him the second he walked through the door.

"Hey, man! Glad you could make it," he said, as if he didn't insist that Billy make it.

Billy grunted at him, shuffling into the booth on the other side of Steve.

"Thanks again, dude. My grades have never been so good. My dad even said I've been doing alright, which is, I think, the nicest thing he's ever said to me."

"Yeah. It's no problem."

"Why don't people know you're smart?" Steve's question took Billy off guard a little bit. "You act like you're a dumb jock, like me."

"You're not dumb. And it's just self-preservation, I guess. I don't need every pretty boy in this school to know I'm a good tutor. Already got my hands full."

Steve's cheeks went the faintest bit pink, and if Billy didn't know better, he'd say that Steve's casual shifting of position was more like a little squirm.

"I guess that makes sense," Steve mumbled, picking at the edge of the menu in front of him.

Their waiter came at that moment, and Steve ordered right away, rattling off what he wanted like it was second nature.

"So the usual, then?" The waiter winked at Steve, and Steve flushed a little deeper, looking shyly at Billy.

"I'll have the same." The waiter nodded, and swept off with their menus.

"So, you're here a lot?" Billy didn't want to look too far into it, but he was ravenous for little scraps of information about Steve. A little peek into his life.

"Yeah. I come here for dinner when I'm home alone a lot. Cooking for one person is kinda lame, and I like being somewhere that's not so. Quiet."

"How often you home alone?"

"Every few weeks. My mom travels around with my dad a lot, but she feels bad about leaving me on my own. Doesn't really stop her, thought." And Steve looked positively glum, like a pouty little cat caught outside in the rain.

"Well, next time you're alone let me know. I don't have too much going on. Usually."

Steve brightened, looking at Billy with a tiny mile on his face.

"Yeah? You don't have better friends then some dumbass you tutor?"

"I don't tutor a dumbass. And in case you hadn't noticed, I don't have many friends. Only been in town for a few months."

"I've been here my whole life, and I don't have many friends, either."

"That's their problem, then."

Steve beamed at him.

[leeknowsnot]

CHAPTER 9 — "I See Me In You"

The buzz of the arcade still lingered faintly in his ears, long after they’d left. Lina’s laughter, the flicker of neon across her cheeks, her victorious shouts—it all kept replaying in his head like a favorite scene on loop.

But as Seungmin sat alone on the rooftop of his apartment complex that late night, hoodie zipped up, knees drawn in, his thoughts drifted backward. Not to her. Not to tonight.

But to before.

To a version of him almost no one now would recognize.

He stared out at the city skyline, fingers playing with the pull cord of his hoodie as he thought of himself—junior high Seungmin. Braces, coke-bottle glasses, hair that always stuck out in the back no matter how much water he sprayed on it.

He looked like the walking stereotype of a nerd—and unfortunately, he was one.

People never got his jokes. He always knew too many answers in class. He ran the slowest in gym and couldn’t even do a proper pull-up.

And the braces? Those were the cherry on top.

Kids used to call him “metal mouth” or “robot rat” and laugh like it was the funniest thing ever. Some of them would imitate the lisp he didn’t know he had. Others would only talk to him when they needed homework answers, or to copy notes. He was always invited last—if at all—to group activities. Birthday parties? Never. Lunch? Always alone.

No one cared that he liked baseball.

Even then, he loved it. The clean weight of the bat, the satisfying crack when it connected. The sound of cleats on gravel. The geometry of angles and force and timing. He’d sit for hours at night watching pro games on mute, tracing swings with his finger.

But when he brought up baseball during lunch to try and bond with the boys in class?

They laughed. Told him to stop pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

“Weak guys like you don’t belong in sports.”

He’d laughed with them.

Because what else was he supposed to do?

He remembered going home, closing his bedroom door, and just… staring at the ceiling some nights. Wondering if he’d always feel like he was made of glass and too much silence.

But things changed.

By the time junior high ended, the braces came off. The glasses, too—he’d saved up with part-time tutoring money and bought contacts on his own. Over the summer, he started jogging every morning, doing sit-ups, pull-ups, anything he could find online. He worked on his swing. His throw. Watched his form in mirrors like a dancer.

He made himself a promise.

| You’re not going to be that boy anymore. The one they look past. |

Senior high started. New school. New uniform. New face in the mirror.

And sure enough, people noticed.

It started small—nods in the hallway, then longer glances. Someone complimented his hair. Another said he looked familiar. He tried out for the baseball team, and when he hit a home run during tryouts, everything changed.

Suddenly, he wasn’t invisible. He was Kim Seungmin, the second baseman with killer aim and one of the best batting averages on the team.

People knew his name. Girls whispered when he passed by, sometimes calling him cute. Teachers smiled at him. He even had a nickname—“Mini”—short for Seungmin, ironic since his presence was anything but small now.

It would’ve been easy to let it all go to his head.

But he never forgot.

He never forgot the boy who used to eat lunch behind the gym because the cafeteria made his skin crawl. The boy who tied his shoelaces too tight to keep from tripping during relay races. The one who stayed quiet, not because he wanted to be, but because every time he spoke, someone found a way to laugh.

That boy still lived inside him.

And maybe… maybe that’s why he never let himself act like he was better than anyone.

Because he knew how it felt.

To be less. To be ignored. To want so badly to be seen.

⸻

The memory of junior high still clung to him like a thin layer of dust—old, settled, but impossible to forget completely. It wasn’t bitterness that he carried. Not anymore. It was more like… weightless residue. Something that shaped him without dragging him down.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, soda can in hand, the carbonation soft against his tongue.

But then he thought of her.

Not from tonight—not from the arcade games or her maniacal laugh when she beat him at hover hockey.

No.

The first time. The day he met her.

She hadn’t been screaming from the bleachers like a fan. No camera ready to capture his swing. No little wave or blushing smile from the sidelines. She stood quietly, almost lazily, near the edge of the field with her clipboard in hand, more focused on a box of juice than on him. When he hit a double, he noticed her barely glance up.

He remembered thinking | Who is this girl? Why is she not impressed? | but it was more like he was wondering how she wasn't screaming her lungs out.

And then, when he offered to help her carry some boxes a few days later, expecting the usual awkward gratitude or shy expression—maybe even a blush—she didn’t give him any of that. She just squinted up at him, handed him one of the heavier boxes without a word, and walked ahead like she didn’t care whether he followed or not.

When they both found out they lived in the same half-crumbling apartment complex, she hadn’t gasped or acted like fate had done something magical.

She just shrugged and said she was surprised at the fact that they lived beside each other.

It threw him off—more than he liked to admit.

She wasn’t trying. She wasn’t treating him like the center of the room. She didn’t look at him like some perfect, unreachable campus boy. Not like the others did. No pedestal, no sparkly eyes, no textbook swooning.

She looked at him like… a person.

And that? That stayed with him.

Because that was the version of Seungmin no one else really noticed—not the one with the jersey number, not the one with the sharp jaw and quick wit. Just him.

And maybe what struck him the most was that Lina… reminded him of that same overlooked boy he used to be.

The one in junior high who no one sat beside.

She didn’t wear it the same way, of course. She wasn’t sad about it. Wasn’t bitter. She just was. Quietly tucked into the edges. Invisible in a way she seemed content with. Like she thought that’s all she could be.

But Seungmin saw it.

The sharp mind behind her sarcasm. The way she lit up when she talked about her simple childhood, like it was some precious memory rather than something to be embarrassed by. Her quiet strength. Her stubborn pride.

He saw so much.

So much more than she saw in herself.

And maybe that’s what made his chest feel weird sometimes. That warm, almost painful ache that snuck up on him whenever she looked away and didn’t realize how bright she was.

He took another sip of soda and chuckled softly to himself.

“You’re getting sentimental, Kim Seungmin,” he muttered.

The can hissed gently in his grip, cool against his palm as he leaned back on his hands and stared up at the moon. It wasn’t particularly bright tonight, but the sky was clear.

Calm.

Still.

The kind of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time.

And maybe—just maybe—it was because he’d found someone who saw him when he wasn’t trying to be seen.

Someone like Lina.

And that? That was enough for now.

[psuedochakra]

Bradley Bradshaw (10th grade)

Rating: Teen (language) Summary: Erica Barnett (world history and advanced placement US history) noticed one of her students was repeatedly missing her last class on Thursdays. She just didn't know why. But his parents would be at the spring recital. Erica just doesn't know which man is the student's dad Tags: POV outsider, misunderstandings, fluff

The spring recital went off without a hitch. Four different bands (6th grade, 7th/8th grade, high school, and jazz), the high school choir, plus a handful of other acts. Nobody forgot their sheet music; nobody got sick. Erica considered that a win.

She wasn't the music teacher. Oh no. Erica couldn't carry a tune; she was just a history teacher. She drew the metaphorical short straw and helped the music teachers set up. Not that she minded. Plus, some of the choir girls had practically begged Erica to attend.

Erica had a secret third motive too. Bradley Bradshaw. He had a piano solo, and he'd been skipping her class. Not every single class; every Thursday class. For the whole semester. He was still passing the class, despite missing the latest project and half of his homework. Nobody in the office had any idea why. He had only started skipping his last class on Thursdays in November.

Erica's prevailing theory was that the teen just wanted to go home early. His world history class was the last one of the day. A lot of kids cut their last class. Bradley wasn't special. He'd been sent home with reprimands for his parents to sign. They never came back. The phone usually went unanswered at the house. Which was weird because last year, Mrs. Bradshaw had been to every single parent-teacher conference.

"You know," Brian Davis (algebra and geometry) hummed one morning in the teachers' lounge, "I've never even met Bradshaw's dad. And I had him in homeroom last year too. It's always his mom at conference time."

"A man has definitely answered the phone at the house a few times," Lauren Jacobs (office) pointed out.

"I've seen him get on a motorcycle with a man," Tina Lewis (10th & 12th grade English) said.

"The brunette who doesn't wear a helmet? I think I've seen the same guy pick him up in a car too."

"He doesn't wear a helmet? What an idiot," Brian rolled his eyes, "Enjoy the brain damage."

"Well, I hope his son wears one," Erica huffed.

"I've seen him pick Bradley up a few times," Jack Hartman (advanced placement literature) chimed in, "Bradley always has a helmet."

"I haven't seen the missus all year," Michelle Smit (biology and chemistry) said, "She was super involved with the PTA last year."

There were a few tired but agreeable murmurs from the teachers in the lounge.

"You think they'd know what's going on?" Erica wondered.

"No fucking way the PTA would tell us though," Barbara Gries (middle school social studies) laughed.

"None of his office notices have come back signed. But I think his dad is Navy," Lauren added.

"Makes sense," Michelle shrugged, sipping her coffee, "Bunch of parents are around here."

"Bradshaw got into it with the Knapp twins didn't he?" Brian asked.

"Mhmm, yeah," Lauren nodded, "But they hit first. Doug kicked them all off the basketball team."

Doug Rogers was the junior varsity basketball couch and one of the PE teachers.

"He has a piano solo at the recital," Rory Kellum (high school band director) said, "His mom never misses a concert."

"Is Bradley in band?" Erica asked.

"No, he must take private lessons. He's good though! And I always need help setting up the stage."

"Okay, sign me up. I was gonna go anyway."

Erica was just concerned. She had a big heart. That was part of why she wanted to be a teacher.

She spotted Bradley in the crowd of people leaving. He was with two men. Both brunettes.

"Mr. Bradshaw!" Erica called out.

The teen stopped first, then the adults. He turned around. The taller of the two adults had a camera.

"Hey, Ms. Barnett! Did you like the show?" Bradley grinned.

The taller of the two men with Bradley elbowed the other and mumbled something in his ear. The shorter rolled his eyes and smacked the other man in the chest.

"Your solo was great, Bradley," Erica told him.

"He's been practicing for months," the taller one said.

Bradley flushed and mumbled, "Shut up."

"Well, Mr. Bradshaw, we've been trying to contact you and your wife," Erica informed them.

The two men looked at each other, back to Erica, then back to each other. Erica frowned. Were neither of them Mr. Bradshaw? She glanced at their hands; neither of them had a ring. Idly, Erica wondered if they were together. It was extremely unconventional, but she had heard of that sort of thing. A gay man hooking up with a female friend to make a baby. Then the men raise the child or sometimes all three of the adults.

"You wanna be Mr. Bradshaw, Wood?" The shorter one asked, "You live there."

"I'm not his legal guardian, Mav," the other one, Wood, said, "This sounds like a legal guardian thing."

"Well, we don't know that," Mav scoffed.

Bradley didn't say anything.

Wood addressed Erica, "What'd he do?"

"Hollywood," Bradley groaned and rubbed his face.

"Well, he's had a ton of abscenes," Erica began.

"No I haven't!" Bradley protested.

It was an embellishment on her part. The adults narrowed their eyes at the teen. Erica felt bad. Students and parents started paying attention to the small group.

"Okay, not a ton," she corrected, "I'm sorry."

"I think we should talk about this somewhere else," Mav said, looking around at everyone else.

Erica nodded and led them to her classroom. She gestured for the men to sit. With a huff, Bradley flopped into a desk. The shorter man sat next to him. The taller one stood behind them, arms folded.

"I know your son has missed over half of his world history classes so far this semester," Erica began.

"And that's your class?" Wood clarified.

She blinked, a bit taken aback. Her room was covered in maps, flags, and the latest sophomore projects (World War II propaganda posters). But Erica nodded.

She continued, "The office has sent home notices with Bradley. Ones that need to be sighed and returned."

"And they never come home," Mav finished.

Erica nodded again. Bradley groaned and rested his head on the desk. She thumbed through her attendance records and listed off a few of the dates Bradley had missed. The men looked at each other. Bradley continued groaning.

"Those are all the days you've taken him to the hospital," Mav said.

It was Erica's turn to blush. Was Bradley sick? He didn't look sick. The office didn't have any doctor notes on record (that she knew of). Erica probably should have gotten some more information before she confronted the parents.

Wood leaned over and squeezed Bradley's shoulder. He crouched down on the boy's other side.

"Brad, you said it was fine," Wood mumbled.

"I'm not failing," Bradley huffed, still face first on the desk.

"Yeah, but the school needs to know where you are," Mav told him. He took the teenager's hand. "What if another one of those um…"

He fell silent. Erica shifted uncomfortably. A few weeks ago, there was a school shooting in Colorado. But Mav was right. The school needed to know where the students were in case there was an emergency.

"But I'm with Mom, so I'm fine," Bradley argued.

"The school clearly doesn't know that," Wood snorted.

"Wait, so are the notices from the office about his abscenes?" Mav asked.

"Um, some," Erica blinked.

Again, she wished she had more information.

"One of them was for a fight," Bradley mumbled.

"What was that?" Wood asked.

"Lift your head up, buddy," Mav instructed.

Bradley sighed, loudly, but lifted his head up. He repeated himself.

"A fight?!" the two men shouted.

"They started it!" Bradley snapped.

"When was this?" Mav demanded.

"Last year. Um in November."

"Is this why you got kicked off the basketball team?" Wood asked.

"You got kicked off the basketball team?!" Mav gasped, "You told Carole you quit!"

"Well, I couldn't tell Mom I got kicked off for fighting," Bradley rolled his eyes.

To be honest, Erica was starting to think neither of these men were Bradley's dad. They certainly acted like some type of parent. But the longer she looked at the three men, the more she noticed differences in their features. He could take after his mom. Erica couldn't really remember what she looked like though. Wood had called Mav the "legal guardian," but Wood seemed to know about the basketball team. Erica didn't want to keep speculating on the boy's home life.

"Excuse me," she cleared her throat.

The trio stopped arguing and looked at her.

"I think I should keep having this conversation just with Mr. Bradshaw," Erica said.

The adults looked at each other. Hopefully, she would figure out what happened from the man who remained. Except both of them stood up.

"Bud, you wanna stay here and keep talking to your teacher?" Wood asked.

Erica was even more confused. Bradley looked at her. His mouth opened into an "oh" shape.

"These guys aren't my dad," the teenager said, "There's no uh I'm the only Mr. Bradshaw."

"Oh," Erica blinked.

"Oh! No, uh, fuck. Sorry! Pete Mitchell," Mav Pete stood up and came over to shake Erica's hand.

"Rick Neven," Wood Rick said. He didn't move away from Bradley.

"Legal guardian," Pete pointed to himself.

"Boyfriend," Rick pointed to himself.

Oh. Oh. Well, Erica wasn't terribly far off. They were a couple and they had adopted Bradley! At least one of them had.

"Okay, well," Rick stood up again, "I guess I need to inform the office when I'm pulling him from class then?"

Erica reeled herself back in and nodded, "Yes. We have a new policy. The kids need to be checked out by an approved adult. You can list up to four."

"That's good," Pete said.

"All this was sent home with your uh Bradley."

Both the men looked at Bradley. He set his head back down and groaned.

"I'll come in Monday," Pete said, "Will that work? To fill out whatever for the policy?"

"Yeah, of course," Erica nodded.

"We're probably gonna keep pulling him from your class," Rick said, "So is he missing any work?"

Erica pointed to the wall behind them, "The only thing I'm missing is our latest project. It was just due today."

"I started it," Bradley mumbled.

"Are those World War II posters?" Pete asked with a grin.

"Did you finish it?" Rick asked the teenager.

"Yes," Erica said with a nod.

"No," Bradley grumbled.

"Okay, buddy. Head up," Pete squeezed his shoulder.

Bradley sat up properly.

"I won't even count it late if you can get it to me by Wednesday," Erica told Bradley.

"Okay," he sighed, "Thanks, Ms. Barnett."

"May I ask why you're signing him out of my class every day?" Erica asked the men.

"You didn't tell the school?" Rick frowned.

Erica wasn't sure who he was talking to. Pete or Bradley. Both of them shrank in the desks under Rick's glare. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Carole, his mom, has cancer. All those missed classes are chemo or doctor appointments," Pete explained, "We uh… I sent him with a note. Which I now see didn't make it."

"Oh," Erica said quietly, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"We will talk about the missing notes at home," Pete sighed, "Thank you, Ms. Barnett."

"Yeah, of course."

"So is the poster the only thing he's missing?" Rick asked.

It wasn't. Erica looked at Bradley's sad doe eyes. She was such a sucker, but worksheets could be filled out at any time.

She nodded, "So far. He's otherwise pretty dilligent about his work. I'll get everything we'll do on Thursdays together for him to take home on Wednesdays. That is if neither of you mind helping him?"

Bradley's eyes widened, and he mouthed "thank you." Erica smiled back.

"No of course we'll help him," Rick said.

"I uh I can come in during lunch sometimes," Bradley offered.

Erica felt like a bobblehead with how much she was nodding, "We can get together Monday after class and talk about that, okay?"

"Okay."

"Do you need anything else from us, Ms. Barnett?" Pete asked.

"Um, no. That was everything. Thank you for your time," Erica said.

"C'mon, buddy," Rick tapped Bradley's shoulder.

The other two followed Bradley out into the hall. Erica waited at her desk for a few minutes. There was a knock on her door. Erica expected it to be one of Bradley's… adult men. It was Lauren and Tina. Erica waved them in; they closed the door.

"So?" Tina raised her eyebrow, drawing out the sound.

Erica exhaled, "So there is no Mr. Bradshaw. There's a Pete Mitchell, legal guardian, Rick Neven, boyfriend, and Carole Bradshaw, mother."

Both women made a surprised noise.

"Pete Mitchell, legal guardian, is coming in Monday to fill out some stuff in the office."

"Like what?" Lauren asked, hopping up on Erica's desk to sit.

Tina followed suit.

"The student check-out forms at least. I think he's gonna drop off some stuff to excuse Bradley on Thursdays."

"Oooh, why?" Tina asked.

Erica glanced at her closed door and leaned in to whisper, "His mom has cancer. Bradley's been going to her appointments with her on Thursdays."

Both women cooed, "Aw."

"She's such a sweet lady," Lauren sighed.

"He's such a good kid too," Tina said.

They sat there in silence for a minute.

"Did you hear about Michelle's husband?" Lauren whispered, "She caught him with their babysitter."

"Oh my God," Erica exclaimed.

"No fucking way! Doesn't Beth Williams babysit for them? She's in my second period senior English," Tina gasped.

"She just turned 18," Lauren shook her head.

"Oh my fucking God!"

"What's Michelle gonna do?" Erica asked.

Lauren shrugged, "I have no fucking idea."

"I'd divorce his ass," Tina shook her head.

"She can't get divorced," Erica said, "She's Catholic."

"Well, she could!"

"She won't then," Lauren sighed bitterly.

"Fucking sick."

"Horrible!"

"Oh, guess what else I heard," Lauren said, wiggling her eyebrows.

[mariacallous]

ChatGPT has already wreaked havoc on classrooms and changed how teachers approach writing homework, since OpenAI publicly launched the generative AI chatbot in late 2022. School administrators rushed to try to detect AI-generated essays, and in turn, students scrambled to find out how to cloak their synthetic compositions. But by focusing on writing assignments, educators let another seismic shift take place in the periphery: students using AI more often to complete math homework too.

Right now, high schoolers and college students around the country are experimenting with free smartphone apps that help complete their math homework using generative AI. One of the most popular options on campus right now is the Gauth app, with millions of downloads. It’s owned by ByteDance, which is also TikTok’s parent company.

The Gauth app first launched in 2019 with a primary focus on mathematics, but soon expanded to other subjects as well, like chemistry and physics. It’s grown in relevance, and neared the top of smartphone download lists earlier this year for the education category. Students seem to love it. With hundreds of thousands of primarily positive reviews, Gauth has a favorable 4.8 star rating in the Apple App Store and Google Play Store.

All students have to do after downloading the app is point their smartphone at a homework problem, printed or handwritten, and then make sure any relevant information is inside of the image crop. Then Gauth’s AI model generates a step-by-step guide, often with the correct answer.

From our testing on high-school-level algebra and geometry homework samples, Gauth’s AI tool didn’t deliver A+ results and particularly struggled with some graphing questions. It performed well enough to get around a low B grade or a high C average on the homework we fed it. Not perfect, but also likely good enough to satisfy bored students who'd rather spend their time after school doing literally anything else.

The app struggled more on higher levels of math, like Calculus 2 problems, so students further along in their educational journey may find less utility in this current generation of AI homework-solving apps.

Yes, generative AI tools, with a foundation in natural language processing, are known for failing to generate accurate answers when presented with complex math equations. But researchers are focused on improving AI’s abilities in this sector, and an entry-level high school math class is likely well within the reach of current AI homework apps. Will has even written about how researchers at Google DeepMind are ecstatic about recent results from testing a math-focused large language model, called AlphaProof, on problems shown at this year’s International Math Olympiad.

To be fair, Gauth positions itself as an AI study company that’s there to “ace your homework” and help with difficult problems, rather than a cheating aid. The company even goes so far as to include an “Honor Code” on its website dictating proper usage. “Resist the temptation to use Gauth in ways that go against your values or school’s expectations,” reads the company’s website. So basically, Gauth implicitly acknowledges impulsive teenagers may use the app for much more than the occasional stumper, and wants them to pinkie promise that they’ll behave.

Prior to publication, a spokesperson for ByteDance did not answer a list of questions about the Gauth app when contacted by WIRED over email.

It’s easy to focus on Gauth’s limitations, but millions of students now have a free app in their pocket that can walk them through various math problems in seconds, with decent accuracy. This concept would be almost inconceivable to students from even a few years ago.

You could argue that Gauth promotes accessibility for students who don’t have access to quality education or who process information at a slower pace than their teacher’s curriculum. It’s a perspective shared by proponents of using AI tools, like ChatGPT, in the classroom. As long as the students all make it to the same destination, who cares what path they took on the journey? And isn’t this just the next evolution in our available math tools? We moved on from the abacus to the graphing calculator, so why not envision generative AI as another critical step forward?

I see value in teachers thoughtfully employing AI in the classroom for specific lessons or to provide students with more personalized practice questions. But I can’t get out of my head how this app, if students overly rely on it, could hollow out future generations’ critical thinking skills—often gleaned from powering through frustrating math classes and tough homework assignments. (I totally get it, though, as an English major.)

Educational leaders are missing the holistic picture if they continue to focus on AI-generated essays as the primary threat that could undermine the current approach to teaching. Instead of arduous assignments to complete outside of class, maybe centering in-class math practice could continue to facilitate positive learning outcomes in the age of AI.

If Gauth and apps like it eventually lead to the demise of math homework for high schoolers, throngs of students will breathe a collective sigh of relief. How will parents and educators respond? I’m not so sure. That remains an open question, and one for which Gauth can’t calculate an answer yet either.

[tevanbegins]

~So my ultra-futuristic, utopian endgame vision for Tevan led to this fic (This is officially the second fic I wrote, but the first one I am posting anywhere.) Hope you enjoy, please comment and RB if you like!~

Math Troubles

Summary: On his day off, Buck steps in to help out his and Tommy's teenage daughter with her math assignment, while Tommy is out on duty. Unfortunately, Buck turns out to be more trouble than help, and Tommy has to intervene over the phone.

----

"Dad," Spencer sighed in utter exasperation. "I think your help is taking me longer to do my math homework than if I were to do it on my own!"

"But sweetheart, it's taking longer because you aren't following the exact steps I'm showing you," Buck said adamantly, refusing to admit defeat. The father-daughter pair was sitting on the bed in Spencer's room, with the thirteen-year-old's books and stationery items scattered all around them.

"No. I'm calling Papa right now. Only he can save me from this--- this situation," insisted Spencer. She promptly video-called Tommy despite Buck's protests, desperately hoping he would answer. Meanwhile, Buck ruffled the pages of her Geometry textbook in search of some solid proof to back up his argument. Luckily for Spencer, Tommy's warm and scrunchy smile beamed through her phone's screen in a few seconds. "Hey Spence, my love. What's up?" he asked her.

"When are you going to be home, Papa? I need your help with my math homework, especially with this geometry assignment," Spencer replied, a pleading expression on her face.

"Sorry darling. My shift is on for another six hours at least, so I won't be home until later in the evening. I thought Dad was going to help you out since he is off-duty today?" Tommy enquired with a raised eyebrow.

"There. Thank you, Tommy!" Buck interrupted the conversation, rotating the phone in Spencer's hand horizontally so that Tommy could see them both. "That is exactly what I am doing, but our stubborn daughter refuses to solve the math problems per my methods. She says only you can save her from this situation, because apparently I can't. How humiliating is that!" Buck complained.

"I understand, Evan," Tommy gave Buck a mock-apologetic cluck, trying hard to stifle his laugh. He was well aware that math proficiency was his husband's biggest weak point-turned-self-esteem issue.

"C'mon Dad, you're just over-reacting," Spencer rolled her eyes at Buck. "I love you, but you need to accept that you are terrible at math!" she tried to soothe the burn with an extra sweet smile.

Tommy burst out laughing at Spencer's remark, but immediately pursed his lips when Buck shot him an angry look through the screen.

"No, I'm not!" Buck retorted, turning his attention away from the phone towards their daughter. "Spence. I agree I wasn't always the greatest at the subject, but haven't I told you the story of how I became a mathematical genius after getting struck by lightning?"

"Yes Dad, you have, about a million times. I know that legend by heart, but the genius part is hard to believe when you keep asking me to use the Pythagoras theorem on an oblique triangle!" Spencer justified her stance.

"Well, you won't even try using it before shooting me down like that!" Buck groaned. At that, Tommy felt an instant need to intervene before this Buckley-Kinard family conversation took a more hilarious turn, else his coworkers at the station would think he was going crazy from how hard he was laughing.

"Evan, my sweet, sweet husband," Tommy let out a deep sigh, still unable to get over how adorable, dorky, stubborn, and unintentionally funny Buck could be even after fifteen years of marriage. "You cannot use the Pythagoras theorem on an oblique triangle. It is simply not possible. You know why? Because it doesn't have any damn right angle in it!" he tried to reason.

"What now? The theorem doesn't apply to non-right angled triangles?" Buck gasped in shock.

"You see? Papa knows!" Spencer gave Tommy a thumbs up and a wide victory grin. "That's why I said only he can save me in this situation!" she said, looking at Buck. "Because your knowledge of basic geometric concepts itself seems questionable to me, sorry not sorry, Dad!"

"So you think your Papa is better than me at math? In spite of my lightning-induced mathematical super-abilities? Well, he can't be any better at math than I am!" Buck declared obstinately.

"Hey! Now that's a controversial thing to say. I'm a formally-licensed pilot — it's literally a prerequisite for my job to have good math skills!" Tommy cut in. "Have you maybe considered that your lightning thing was a limited-period offer from the Gods? I mean, poor Pythagoras must be rolling in his grave right now because of you, Evan," Tommy sniggered.

"What a snob!" Buck cried, looking flushed with embarrassment. "Remember, you won't be able to hide behind the phone screen when you face me at home tonight, Tommy!" he added in a stern voice, and then dramatically moved out of the view of the front camera lens.

"Spence darling, what trouble have you got me into with your Dad? I'm going to have to stop at a florist's shop on the way back home now," Tommy exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Tell him that only flowers is not going to cut it. He needs to get a big box of chocolates too, or else he won't be allowed into the house tonight," Buck nudged Spencer to convey the message, but Tommy had heard it loud and clear.

"Yes Evan. Flowers and chocolates it is!" Tommy responded, hiding a chuckle. "Well, I am going to hang up now. Before I can say anything more to piss him off," Tommy whispered to Spencer and winked. "Bye darling, see you later!"

"B-bye Papa, love you!" Spencer blew Tommy a kiss and then put her phone away after the call ended. Looking at Buck's expression, she snorted and got into a wild fit of laughter, so much that her belly hurt. And despite his pseudo-attempts at pretending to be upset over this roast session of his math skills, Buck burst out laughing too, alongside his daughter.

Good at math or not, Spencer knew she had the sweetest, funniest, and the most loving dads in the whole wide world, and she was the luckiest girl ever to have them both.

------

[aita-polls]

AITA For hating my very nice math teacher

I 16F have geometry. I've never been great at math but over the years I've been slowly getting better at it. Up until this year my new math teacher, lets call her Ms G, has started teaching me. She's a very kind woman with a fun sense of humor who's fairly down to earth with her students. That said she has an awful habit of not teaching us things in class and giving us extra hard homework to make up for it. More specifically, she likes deltamaths. (If you don't know what those are, it's basically infinite questions. If you get something wrong it gives you a new question in place of it until you get it right. Then it moves onto another question until you reach the end of the expected amount.) There's very rarely a "getting it wrong and moving" question assigned by her, matter of fact I didn't even know those existed until a few days ago. It's just been infinite questions over and over again that I can't solve. I ask her for help on them but she never helps and just tells me to email her. I ask my classmates but none of them get it either. Plenty of people are doing poorly in our class and she does very little to help other than assigning more deltamaths to possibly bump up grades. I can't complete them anymore, they keep driving me genuinely crazy. I only even attempt because I don't want to fail and get in trouble with my mom.

I know Ms G is a very nice person and I know she means well but her teaching style feels lazy and unhelpful to anyone in class. I know I could try emailing her, but I think its unfair to have to email a woman standing right in front of me who could easily just answer my questions.

I'm genuinely going crazy every other night because despite my notes, asking peers for help, asking family for help and even asking ai it feels like no one can help me to the point where I'm on the brink of tears and having panic attacks nearly every assignment. But she's so nice it makes me feel awful for starting to dislike her.

AITA?

[panda-writes-kpop]

bloodsucker, famefucker

A/N: Happy early Halloween, folks! For those who are unaware, I post a light-hearted, sweet fluffy fic and then something more on the horror, gore side of things. This fic is my horror one, so I'd skip this if you're more of a fluff person! I hope the haunted season has gone well for you, and I look forward to bringing more Halloween joy next week. :)

TW: Vampires, horror-esque descriptions, blood, violence against Reader/SuA, home invasion, biting, major character death, mentions of cheating and being a bad partner, OOC SuA, friendship break-ups, the best kind of angst, magic but I bend it to the plot's will, partying, alcohol mentions (everyone mentioned is old enough to partake)

Acknowledgments: Inspired by Vampire (Olivia Rodrigo) and Control (Halsey), and the lovely @sanccharine mishaps gone right series. 🫶 ty for reading this fic ahead of time, and I apologize for any future transgressions in relation to a sequel. ;)

Word Count: 5.2K

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Summary: You're stuck in a rut a few months after your break-up with Bora, but a friendly date helps you feel ready to jump back into dating. Your ex, however, decides that she has to stick her fangs into you one last time to show who's really over who.

♡ Masterlist ♡

“Vampires suck.”

“Yeah, well, no shit,” Yoohyeon sighs before throwing her flashcards against the table, “how am I supposed to pass this exam with basic information like that?”

You sit across from the table in a private study booth on the second floor of the campus library. Yoohyeon, your best friend since high school, is studying for her first Vampiric History exam as you are trying, and horribly failing, to focus on your homework for Applied Mathematics For Sorcery. 

Your focus falls back to the screen as your phone displays a bright collection of images from someone you followed. Her smile is bright and immortal, given the sharp front teeth that are proudly bared, but that’s not what you’re focused on. 

The fourth picture, since you had dared to scroll that far, was the same vampire locking lips with another vampire from a different coven. 

The problem was that you had forgotten to block all of your ex-girlfriend’s friends on all social media, and you were currently staring at a picture of SuA kissing someone else two months after you broke up.

You carelessly toss your phone on the table, forgetting to lock the screen, as Yoohyeon curiously eyes your phone.

“Don’t tell me you’re-“

“-She cheated on me, Yooh. How am I supposed to forgive her?”

“You didn’t, and you walked away from her,” She digs in her backpack, presumably for a snack, “as you should have.”

“Is it okay to not be over her?”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up,” Yoohyeon tosses a granola bar across the table for you before opening hers, “it’s her loss. You’re the coolest person I know.”

A light smile rests on her face - Yoohyeon always knew how to make you feel better.

“Thanks, Yooh,” You say as you grab the granola bar on the table, “do you have any clue how to solve geometry in relation to spell casting?”

“No, so we’re going to go ask Dami for help.”

You shrug before closing your computer and beginning to pack your stuff up.

“Works for me.”

~

“Dami-ah!” Yoohyeon pounds on the dormitory door as you pull your backpack over your shoulder.

Your mind wanders back to the photos you saw earlier as Minji, SuA, and Siyeon partied together as if you all weren’t close a few months ago.

As if it wasn’t your fault that your friend group was split in two.

“Dami, answer the damn door before Yoohyeon breaks it down!” Handong calls from the inside as Yoohyeon continues to rap her knuckles against the door.

“I got it!” Gahyeon yells before the door opens. “You guys could have called-“

“I know, but we wanted to surprise you-“

“-You need help with your homework?”

“We do.” You mumble in defeat as Gahyeon gives you a quick hug.

“It’s good to see you, y’know?” She rubs your shoulder before giving you a reassuring look. “You’re more than welcome here at any time, okay?”

“Thank, Gahyeon,” You pause as you let out a deep breath, “I needed a distraction.”

“You saw Bora’s post, didn’t you?” Gahyeon rolls her eyes before closing the door behind you and 

Yoohyeon. “We should throw a party, or like a mixer! It would be so much better than what she did.”

“As long as it’s not in this dorm room, I’m down with the idea.” Handong adds in as she is perched on the top bunk of the bunk bed.

Gahyeon crashes on the bunk below Handong as Yoohyeon hops on the bed on the other side of the room.

“Dongie, have you started studying for that exam yet?” Yoohyeon asks as she pulls out her notecards.

“A bit. Do you want to study together?”

“Please help me.” Yoohyeon sets her backpack on the bed as you set your stuff on the bed next to hers.

Your eyes turn to the desk next to the bunk bed where Dami is studying for one of her more advanced classes.

“Do you need help with math?” She asks while doing a computation on her phone.

“I could use help for Applied Mathematics in Sorcery from my favorite sorceress.” You teasingly say as you grab some materials from your backpack.

Dami raises one hand up, and without breaking attention from her studies, she pulls another chair up to the desk.

“Thanks for that,” You set down your notebook, pencil, and computer, “and I apologize in advance because you’re going to need to re-explain this entire chapter to me.”

~

“Why does everything you say make more sense than whatever the professor was going on in class?” You sigh in relief as you submit a perfect homework assignment online.

“You’re welcome. I’m happy to help with anything.” Dami takes care to emphasize the last word as your phone buzzes.

“I’m sorry,” You pause for a moment to grab your phone from the table, “let me look at this before we change subjects.”

You open up the notification that takes you straight to your text messages.

Unknown Number: Jagi, I’m sorry that I hurt you so much.

Babe, why won’t you answer my texts? I know you blocked me but I missed up.

*Messed ypu. 

Fuck, I just miss you, and I’m not sorry about it.

“Who is it?” Yoohyeon peeks over the top of the bunk bed as you toss your phone to her.

Dongie manages to catch it before Yoohyeon’s face does, and they gasp in sync with one another.

“She did not-“

“Oh, she did,” Yoohyeon looks at the alarm clock with a chuckle, “and she’s already drunk before nine o’clock.”

A hand on your right arm pulls you back to Dami, who looks at you with confusion and concern mixed together in her gaze.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m just tired of the constant reminders that I wasn’t enough for her. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever truly be over her, or if I’m just going to miss her for the rest of my life.” You quietly admit as Gahyeon snatches your phone out of Dongie’s grasp.

“What are you-“

“-That’s it! I’ve had enough of them,” Gahyeon spits out before grabbing her phone, “and we’re going to do something about it. Everyone, clear your schedules on October 30th. We’re throwing the best party that this campus has ever seen!”

Gahyeon hands you back your phone, and you quickly shove it in your pocket as she starts typing on her phone.

“This is great and all, Gahyeon,” Handong climbs down the bunkbed to grab something from the mini fridge, “but I’m only okay with this plan if they are.”

Dongie’s eyes meet yours as she quickly places a reassuring hand on your shoulder before bending to grab a drink from the mini fridge next to you.

“I think it’ll be fun, especially with Gahyeon planning it.” You gently move Handong’s hand from your shoulder as you nod at Gahyeon. “Just let me know what I need to bring, okay?”

Gahyeon cheerfully pumps her free hand in the air as the other girls laugh at her antics.

“Okay, Yooh and Dongie, since you’ve got the most experience with party planning, I’ll need you to-“

Your eyes go back to Dami, who wistfully stares at the girls in front of her.

“You don’t have to go, y’know?” You take her hand on your arm and interlace your fingers with hers as you set your hands on the table, “I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable just for my sake.”

“I don’t mind, I promise. I just don’t like going to parties that-“ She pauses until you nod at her for permission, “Bora and Siyeon used to drag me to.”

“If Gahyeon gets too out of hand, Dongie will reel her back in. I want this to be something fun for all of us, a moment to stop worrying about school for a night.”

“Are you sure that school is all that’s on your mind?” Her eyes dare to read within your mind, and despite the turbulence within your heart, you find yourself at peace when discussing such matters with Dami.

“I don’t know if I miss SuA anymore, or if I just miss having someone to tell every silly little thing to.” You confess.

“You know I’m always available to talk to you, no matter the hour or day, right?” She asks as you nod, “As for the other matter, why not put yourself out there again? Just go on a less formal date, something low-commitment, to see if you want to go back into the realm of dating.”

There’s a spark of expectation and hopefulness in her as her eyes linger on your intertwined hands for a moment, but her gaze quickly returns back to you as you open your mouth.

I wonder what that was about…

“For someone who doesn’t do a lot of dating, you have awfully good dating advice,” You tease as a small blush crosses her face, “and that’s not a bad idea. I think it would be good to put myself out there again, just 

as a test.”

~

Dates were something of a new area for you, as most of your dates with SuA included staying home and studying or going out with friends and partying. You were also around a group, so you had the comfort of a friend to look at for.

Here, in the coffee shop, it was just you, the coffee cup you were holding on to for dear life, and a cute elven girl named Chou Tzuyu.

“How are you finding your studies?” She asks before tucking a small piece of hair behind her ear.

You were, to say the least, mesmerized by her beauty, so you cough and shyly look away when you notice that she is speaking to you.

“They’re going well, but having an individualized major instead of a set path of study can be stressful at times.” You admit as you recall your struggles with math earlier in the week. “Math has been a struggle for me, but I have a friend who is bright like you.”

“I’m not the only one you get answers from?” She raises an eyebrow at you as you scoff.

“I can do the homework for my humanity-focused classes, but these sorcery classes are kicking my ass.” 

You roll your eyes as you think of the pile of math homework awaiting you. “I’m thankful for your help with the history classes, you are a lifesaver.”

“You’re helping me practice teaching when I go for advanced studies at the university, so I am thankful for you as well.”

You take a small sip from your cup as your thoughts wander again.

This is going okay, and she’s really pretty, but I’m not feeling anything special like I did with-

“Why did you ask me on a date?” Tzuyu directly asks as your heart sinks in your chest. 

Oh no, she’s going to think this is a rebound and I’m going to lose another friend after everything-

“You don’t have to tell me, though,” She gently grabs your hand before you squeeze your coffee cup past its 

breaking point, “but I think there’s someone else you’d rather be here with, no?”

“Huh?” Your eyebrows jump to the top of your forehead as an amused smile dances across her features.

“Oh, you didn’t know that she…” Tzuyu trails off before shaking her head. “It’s not my business, though. You’ve got a great group of friends behind you.”

“Does that still include you?”

“Of course, who else will help you with your history classes?” 

You smile before taking another sip from your coffee cup.

Maybe this ‘date’ wasn’t a total failure.

~

You slip through the large crowd of people who have collected in the living room of Gahyeon’s friend’s house. She was out of town for a couple of weeks, right around Halloween, so Gahyeon got permission to do so. The only caveat was that the five of you had to clean up and stay the night to make sure the house was taken care of, but Gahyeon roped everyone into it without much worry.

Without a red solo cup in your hand, you do stand out, but Gahyeon committed to having a dry party that could still be fun without excessive drinking. You had to hand it to her - the set up of the party and the house allowed for all sorts of activities for all sorts of people. 

You were in charge of food, so after grabbing another food tray for the spare bedroom, you were trying to make it through the crowd in one piece. While batting stray hands and partiers away, you offer a quick wave to Tzuyu, who stands in the corner by herself.

She joins your side once you break from the crowd, and you make a sharp left as she follows your pace.

“The party’s great.” She says as you knock on the bedroom door.

“You should be thanking Gahyeon. This is all her idea, I just showed up with a few food trays.” You push any praise to Gahyeon, who opens the door with a large smile.

“Thank you!” She snatches the tray from your hands as Tzuyu leans on the doorframe. “You both are welcome to come in - we’ve got plenty of board games to spare!”

“I thought you would’ve been out with the music and partiers, Gahyeon.” You step inside the room before looking back at Tzuyu. “You want in?”

“I think I’ll head back to the living room. Dahyun said she’s challenging someone to a dance-off, and I have money riding on her winning it, so I need to make sure my investment was worth it.”

You laugh to yourself before waving her off.

“Have fun with that, Tzuyu.”

She nods before disappearing back into the hallway.

You turn to look at Gahyeon, who admires you with wide eyes.

“So…?”

“There’s nothing between us, I promise,” You grab a piece of cheese from the tray and toss it in your mouth, 

“but it was nice to try to go on a date. I’ve been missing that sort of connection in my life.”

“That’s good-“

“Ah, Yoohyeon, the point of the game is to avoid my property-“ Dongie teases Yoohyeon from the left side of the bed as Yoohyeon folds her arms and huffs.

“Yah, you’re so mean to me!”

“Pay up,” Handong holds out her hand for money, and Yoohyeon reluctantly places the cash in her hand, “now, was that so hard?”

“I don’t like this game,” Yooh pouts before her eyes land on you, “c’mon, we should play a new game so all of us can play together.”

“The five of us can play Monopoly-“ Dami chimes in as Gahyeon sets the tray down on the nightstand.

“-Let’s just play Mario Kart before Yoohyeon owes Handong real money.” You settle the argument by turning 

on the Switch as Yoohyeon cheers.

“See, I knew you’d have my back!”

~

Gahyeon and Handong are perched on the bed as you and Yoohyeon sit against the front of the bed. Dami moved her chair closer to the TV so the five of you can play together. 

Most of the freeloading partiers have gone home, so there’s no need for the five of you to take shifts to manage the crowd. The only people left are friends of friends who are raiding the last of the snacks and drinks before heading out of the door.

“That was a really successful party, Gahyeon,” You say as the winning animation plays on the screen, “and it looks like everyone who came had a great time.”

Gahyeon smiles brightly before excitedly pulling out her phone.

“I bet the whole party is all over everyone’s socials,” She taps her screen a few times before her eyes widen, “oh shit!”

Your head snaps back, along with Yoohyeon’s, at her exclamation.

Dongie leans over to look at Gahyeon’s phone, and she has a remorseful look on her face.

“Minji was here.”

“Minji was here?” You and Dami say at the same time as Yoohyeon immediately stands up.

“I’m going to go out and chase everyone else off… just in case we have any lurkers.” Malice slips into the last word she speaks as Yoohyeon quickly exits the room.

You want to offer to help, but you don’t think you can face her after everything that has happened with Bora.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Dami slides off her chair before sitting next to you, “we chose to stand by you when everything happened.”

“You all were friends long before Bora and I got together, and I-“ You pause as tears threaten to fall from your face, “I ruined everything.”

“You ruined nothing,” Dongie reaches towards you and rubs your back for a moment before looking at the phone again, “but I learned that some of my friends weren’t who I thought they were.”

“If I had known…” Gahyeon wistfully says before putting her phone aside, “If I had known that SuA had cheated on you, I would’ve told you right away. The worst part about everything wasn’t hearing it from you - no, we heard it directly from her, and she was proud of what she did.”

Gahyeon sniffles before the waterworks come out, and you find yourself wiping away tears as Handong wraps an arm around her.

“It’s not your fault,” Dami repeats as you lay your head on her shoulder, “I would choose you a thousand times over. I think about how everything played out, sometimes, when I go to sleep, but I don’t regret anything. I met one of the best people in my life after everything that happened, and I couldn’t be more thankful.”

“Minji and Siyeon chose their sides, as we chose ours,” Handong reassures you while holding on to Gahyeon, “and I don’t miss the drama, the fights, and the black-out parties.”

You laugh as you wipe away more tears.

“Those parties were awful,” You reminisce as a memory comes to mind, “I remember having to nearly carry SuA home because she was drunk past the point of walking straight.”

“Forget walking - Siyeon tried to kiss me!” Handong exclaims as you laugh alongside her.

“I do miss them, sometimes,” You softly admit while playing with your shirt sleeve, “and I wonder if things had played out differently, if we’d still be friends.”

“I think those ‘what-ifs’ are better left alone, at least for tonight,” Dami gently wraps her arm around your shoulder as you lean into her body more, “we’ve got plenty of work ahead of us.”

~

“Babe, c’mon! Pictures are fun.” SuA tugged on your sleeve as you fixed your hair in the reflection of your phone screen.

“I don’t look my best, and you always look so much better than I do.” You pull your sleeve away from her before putting your phone away.

“At least you can see what you look like!” SuA yells before stomping off to go meet with the campus photographer.

Confusion mixed with anxiety makes an unholy cocktail, one that’s worse than whatever is in the red solo cup in your hand. You toss the drink to the side of the yard before throwing the cup away as the thought of SuA’s recent uptick in outbursts gnaws at your mind.

Was it you? Did you say something wrong? Your hair and outfit really was a mess from dancing at a crowded party, and you weren’t in the mood to get photographed. Was that such a grievance in your mind?

You probably struck a bad nerve by looking at your phone, considering her lack of reflection, so it would be best if you apologized so you could move on. You wonder how many more times she’ll run off before you stop chasing her.

You shake off the thought, she’s probably just stressed from midterm exams. You push through the crowd of people in the backyard as you head inside the frat house. Before you lost sight of her, she had been heading to the living room to see the photographer that wanted to take a picture of “the happy couple”.

Only if they knew.

You break through the crowd once you’re inside, and a quick glance to the left tells you that you’re not getting through the line of people waiting to use the restroom. You turn to the right, and are met with a frightening display in the living room.

Your girlfriend, the girl you adored from the moment you met her, had her hands and lips all over someone else.

Part of your heart, part of your innocence, and part of your joy shriveled up and died in that moment, but not just because of SuA.

It was watching two of your older friends, the two people you trusted most, watch the scene in front of them unfold as if nothing was wrong. You didn’t scream or cry, not right away. You simply turned back around, pushed through the crowd of people with more force than before, and got a ride home. 

A simple text saying “We’re done” and a few blocked phone numbers and social media accounts were enough justice for you, but the world is a karmic bitch who likes to have the last laugh. Before you blocked SuA, she had posted a video of the scene you had just witnessed, with one simple caption:

“For you, my dear.”

~ 

In a sweat, you pull the blanket off of you and sit up on the air mattress. Gahyeon sleeps peacefully to your left (the girls played rock-paper-scissors for the spot and she won), and Yoohyeon and Handong are fighting over the covers on the bed in their sleep.

After rubbing your eyes and grabbing your phone, you glance over to the cot where Dami was sleeping, only to notice that she was no longer there.

Weird.

Turning on your phone, you blind yourself with the power of a thousand suns before looking at the time.

2:33 a.m., and I went to bed at 1:00 a.m. It’s going to be a long night.

Nightmares came and gone, but they were always supposed to be based in fantasy or fear, not reality. 

Having the same scenario play out, over and over again, as if you can change anything that had happened, was maddening. 

You would usually call one of your friends when you felt like this, but they were all sleeping peacefully, so you decided to look for the other person who would be awake at this hour. Dami was one of the first asleep most nights, so your calls and texts would go unanswered, but she was always the first to text or call you back if she missed your call.

She had always been a pillar of calm confidence, of self-assured belief in oneself, and you question what had brought you two together during orientation to the university. Perhaps you looked like a duckling who had lost sight of its mother, or perhaps she was just as lost as you. Either way, you had found one another and had been inseparable since.

Dami had been the one to introduce you to her friends, and you had gotten along especially well with SuA. Push comes to shove, one night’s confession turns to love, and the two of you were dating. If you were to be technical, everything that had happened so far was Dami’s fault, in a way.

Guilt buries itself in your consciousness as you shift blame from Dami to yourself. It wasn’t her fault that SuA had acted in such a way. The two of you were fundamentally different people - she liked parties and darkness and temporary pleasure, and you liked quiet afternoons and board game nights with friends and working towards a goal greater than yourself. What had drawn you to each other was tearing your relationship apart - you had nothing in common, but yet again, you had nothing in common.

You’re careful to not blind yourself as you check the time on your phone.

2:34 a.m.

You get out of bed, as quietly as possible, before gently opening the bedroom door. You notice that a light 

has been left on towards the direction of the kitchen, so you head that way.

A creak in the floorboards underneath you causes you to pause, as if you’re some sort of horror protagonist. You can imagine how they’d jump and scream, but you were simply worried about waking your friends… right?

You walk much slower as the kitchen starts to come into view. A figure stands by the kitchen island while wringing off their hands with a towel.

“Dami?”

Their head snaps in your direction, and you sigh before slipping your phone in your pocket.

“I’m happy to see you because I can’t seem t-“

When you go into the kitchen, their face is revealed in the light, and a scream threatens to break from your lips.

A disheveled SuA stands in front of you, and she’s covered head-to-toe in blood splatters. When she smiles at you, blood leaks from her lips and drips onto the tile flooring.

As your mouth opens, SuA makes a quick maneuver towards you and pins you to the nearest wall.

“You know,” She gasps for air as she eyes your neck, “we could’ve done this the easy way while you were sleeping.”

“Fuck y-“

Her hand covers your mouth as she bares her teeth and plunges them into your neck. You scream into her mouth, but her strength is no match for yours. You’re sure a dagger in the neck would be more comfortable as she carelessly drinks from you.

You had imagined your death before, but it was nothing like this. You had to fight back, one way or another.

As your vision starts to soften due to blood loss, you scan your surroundings for something to help you. On a table within your grasp, you notice that a wooden spoon used for punch had been haphazardly left there without being cleaned up.

I hope no one can tell the difference between two red liquids…

You manage to grab the spoon before the strength in your body starts to give out. Color and brightness and darkness and nothingness swirl in your vision as you attempt to plunge the dagger into her heart.

The coldness of the floor meets your check, and survival instincts kick in as you slowly crawl away. Your vision dances with the cold lighting as you pull yourself towards the light. A strangled cry escapes you as something grabs onto your leg with crawls tearing into the flesh of your thigh. 

You’ve lost your weapon, so you can only assume that it has made contact with SuA or did enough to scare her off. Your eyes adjust to the surroundings as your neck burns with the pain of a hundred bee stings. The grip on your leg loosens as you crawl towards what looks to be a phone.

You hope you can get to the phone before you pass out as a wave of nausea causes you to place your head on the floor.

“Did you hear that scream? I think someone next door had too much to drink-“ Gahyeon’s voice is the last thing you remember before your eyes shut permanently.

~

Heat soaks your body as your eyes open to a light being projected right into your eyes.

“I don’t know how much more I can do… the puncture wounds are too deep.” 

A soft hand is placed against your neck as the light is pulled from directly above you to the side. 

“You’re awake...” Dongie sits to your side as your head turns the opposite way to look at the rest of your surroundings.

“SuA… she-“

“Don’t worry about SuA, she’s dead.”

Your head snaps towards Handong as your breathing quickens.

“Dead-“

“Why would you say that? You’re going to kill them before they have a chance to make a proper recovery.” 

Yoohyeon leans on Handong as you start to see more of what surrounds you.

You’ve been moved from the kitchen to the living room, but time has barely passed. The darkness outside starts to creep in as your vision slowly fades to black.

“We’re losing them-“ Handong cries out as someone else walks toward you.

“Dami!”

You push away the darkness as you immediately prop yourself up on your elbows. Handong supports your back with both of her hands as Yoohyeon places a washcloth against your neck.

“Don’t do that-“ Handong begins to scold you before 

“It’s okay,” Dami raises her hand before sitting beside you, “we need them awake.”

“Is this going to work?” Yoohyeon softly asks as your eyes dance around, looking for another person.

“Gahyeon is out looking for Minji, Siyeon, and Tzuyu,” Dami calmly answers as you look back at her, “and I just need you to focus on staying awake. We’ll be okay as long as you’re okay.”

Dami reaches for a book as you focus on your breaths.

Do this one thing for them - it’s easy enough.

You fight against the numbness, the pain inside of you as Dami flips through the book with ease until her hand finds the right page.

“Are binding spells safe?” Yoohyeon asks as Handong scoffs.

“Not in the slightest, but they’re better than resurrection spells.” Handong rubs your back before looking back at Yoohyeon. 

“Are you serious? We’re using untamed magic-“

“-Resurrection spells are untamed magic, binding spells are unreliable-“ Dami corrects as Yoohyeon raises her eyebrows in disbelief.

“-you have to be kidding me!” 

Your head falls back as your resistance starts to fail.

“Dami, hurry up-“

“-I’ve got it.” Dami takes your spare hand and intertwines it with hers. “Do you trust me?”

“I always have,” You mutter as your eyelids flutter rapidly, “and I always will.”

She glances away for a moment before closing the book and tossing it aside. 

Dami mutters something in a tongue unknown to you as a soft purple smoke surrounds the both of you.

“Get away-“ Handong backs off from you as you support yourself with your arms.

“They can’t-“ Yoohyeon argues for a moment before Handong drags her away from you.

The purple smoke grows closer and closer around the two of you until it disappears just as quickly as it 

came.

Your resolve cracks and crumbles until nothing inside of you is left to fight.

I should have never introduced the two of you, this wouldn’t have happened if I was more careful- 

Dami’s voice rings through your mind as her eyes pierce your soul.

It was never your fault, you answer her with your thoughts, and I’d do it all over again if it means I got to be close with you.

You’re out before your head hits the pillow, but not before a small tear runs down Dami’s cheek.

[mr-snailman]

hmmm writing this down here so I don’t forget I guess

seeing stars and say yes were originally supposed to be one fic spanning seven years and obviously that didn’t happen because it turns out seven years is a long fucking time

but there’s one deleted scene from the time between that’s near and dear to my heart in which Chuckie was gonna be working on some trade school related homework to do with geometry (cause if you’re gonna build houses you do have to understand spatial relationships) and maybe it’s taking a while

and Will sits down beside him and looks over his shoulder and starts pointing out the answers— and this becomes their first real argument that we see. obviously it’s ripping off the organic chem scene with Skylar in the movie because I think it’s something we see over and over from Will, that it’s SO easy for him and he just doesn’t get how other people have to work so much harder at it— and he really does think he’s helping, is the thing

because for him it’s just oh let me do this in fifteen seconds so it’s done and we can spend some time together— almost like “oh don’t worry about it I’ll do the dishes” XD— because for him homework was only ever busywork

but for Chuckie, this is something he has to do himself, because he’s gotta learn this stuff, and it kinda feels like— what, you don’t think I can learn this? you think I’m too stupid to figure this out on my own? because I think for a long long time he’s been struggling with the idea that he’s not good enough for Will in the same way that little league and patriots games and Southie itself aren’t good enough, and that’s part of what lead to the California thing in the first place

and obviously he knows it’s all bullshit— because Will came back, because Will chose him, because he knows Will loves him and would never think he’s stupid just because he’s no Ramanujan, he KNOWS all this— but still. those insecurities are still there, and it stings

BUT they’re two grown ass people who love each other very much so they talk it out like adults instead of flying off the handle, and Will backs off a little so Chuckie can finish, and Chuckie gives him stuff to check and asks him for an explanation, NOT the answer, to a difficult problem, and when it’s all done Will finally gets Chuckie’s undivided attention XD

[etherealspacejelly]

hiii daaaddd :DDDD

we have these things now and we have to write a question ( i promise it isnt homework) i just thiught you might like it :)) if we have a good question it get used on fridays :D we need to write a question and the answer for it (obviously) but you said you liked maths so :))

physically vibrating with the urge to get out a pen and paper and just play with this

geometry my beloved

(also algebra!!!! which i Adore and miss very much)