#and i’ve always been better at algebra than other math. so

[rogerswifesblog-updates]

Chapter 7

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A/N: I definitely didn’t forget to post this. Nope. Definitely not. You’ll hate me after this one:*

Warnings: mentioned past Steve x Peggyc, mentioned cheating, cliffhanger…again…I’m sorry (I’m not)

Only a few days later you were driving with Natasha and Jake to the new place. Both wanted to help you move, so Jake drove a truck with some of your stuff and you drove with Natasha in another one. You 're grateful for having such great friends. Supporting you, even though you didn’t feel you deserved it.

Maybe Steve's father was right about you? You were too old for Steve, corrupting him and manipulating. You were older. You should be smarter than that…but love makes you blind, right? You really loved Steve. You missed him already. Even teaching him stupid math, always explaining the same mistakes. You missed his confused expression, the big eyes glued to your lips, listening to every word you said. Even the not interesting ones about algebra and logarithm. Despite not having any real dates, besides watching a movie at your place, you still enjoyed his company, the soft unsure touches, gentle kisses…his kind heart, his good soul and sweet behaviour…everything about him.

“Stop that” “what do you mean?”, you grumbled back at Natasha, making her rise her eyebrows. “Stop thinking about him. You’re pouting. I’ve never seen you pout before. It’s weird” “I’m heartbroken.” She looked once again at you and then back at the street.

“It’s still weird tho. You haven’t been like that after Rumlow-“ “Because I wasn’t heartbroken then. I was..broken. Exhausted. Probably also traumatised”, you shook your head at the last word, thinking back to your last, very toxic, relationship. “It’s completely different with Steve. Even if we had only been together for-“ You shut your mouth for a moment, thinking, slowly furrowing your eyebrows while tears welled up in your eyes. “We weren’t even really a couple yet.” Your voice was just a small whisper. A barely audible sound.

So that's it? Your best (not) relationship was with a highschool kid, that you had taught math and only been romantically involved for twelve hours?

That’s…

Sad.

You felt sorry for yourself.

When the car came to a stop you looked at the house, that would be your home for the next…you didn’t know for how long.

But after meeting Aisha, a close friend of Jakes and now your new roommate, everything started off good. You got a job at the same company she worked at. It was very well paid, much better than when you worked for Scrooge aka Mr. Rogers.

At first you thought you'd only work there temporarily, until you can find something better.….and the days passed…days turned into weeks…weeks into months…

and months? Yeah…

The first few days Steve still tried to contact you, even casually asking his father if he knew something about you. Where you were or if something happened to you. The only thing he did was shrugging and telling Steve you quit. Why do you want to know, Steven? I think she was just your tutor. We can find another one if that’s what you’re stressed about.

Yeah, sure, it was definitely just because of math.

“Buck, I don’t know what happened to her. It’s like…earth swallowed her. Like she just disappeared, like-“ “Yeah, I get it, but we can’t do anything else, Steve”, said his best friend, swatting Steve’s shoulder gently. The blonde sighed.

His eyes still felt swollen from all the crying yesterday…and the day before…and the other days before that too. He cried a lot. But to Steve’s defense, it was the first time Steve was really in love.

The weeks went by, shortly after he was leaving his highschool for the last time. The paper in his hand felt like it might burn him. The A in math laughing in his face.

When he saw his grades, the first thing he thought about was sending you a picture, showing you that all the efforts paid off, but…then he remembered.

And his life went by, from one day to the other, week after week. He made it into his dream college, Columbia university, art studies, Bucky as well but not art, he was more into physics. They both rented a small apartment together.

Steve’s father helped him financially.

The weeks turned to months.

And months….?

[ so, that’s it, I hope you liked the series!☺️ okay okay, I’m joking, don’t be mad]

5 years later

“Steve, man, you need to get out more”, said Sam, Bucky nodding, too. “Yeah, we all need to go out this weekend. We’ll graduate in only a few weeks. Let’s enjoy the last moments of youth before we have to work”, grinned Bucky, making the two other men shake their heads.

Steve raised his eyebrows, looking at his childhood best friend. “You know just because we’ll work, doesn’t mean we won’t have time on the weekends. It won’t change much-only we’ll have more money to spend”, he shrugged. Bucky crossed his arms, leaning a bit more over the table and letting his gaze glide over Steve. “It’s not like you hadn’t had money to spend-your dad is still helping you financially, right? Why is he still doing that” “if I only knew…I told him so many times about my job at the café or the occasional gigs as a model for the art classes but he just…I don’t know. It’s sometimes…weird. Like he feels obligated to pay for my stuff. It’s not like I asked him to do that.”

Both Sam and Bucky were quiet for a moment, thinking. “Maybe-“ “here’s something for you Sir”, a waitress interrupted Steve, bringing him a plate with a slice of cheesecake. He raised his eyebrows, looking up at the young woman. “I-I haven’t ordered it” The woman only grinned, pushing the plate closer to him, pointing at the napkin. This time when he looked down he noticed…a number.

A forced smile crept onto his lips. “Thank you but-“ He looked at Bucky and put his arm around his best friend's shoulders. “I’m not interested”, the woman immediately looked at the blushing Bucky, her own cheeks also turning a dark shade of red while she turned around and walked away.

Bucky squinted his eyes at Steve, making the blond slowly pull his arm away from around his shoulders. “I get it steve, you don’t want to date but I do-and when you keep telling people we’re together, nobody will want to date me-and I want to date. I want to date a lot”, he said, pulling the plate closer to him. “For that, I’m eating the cake” “yeah, okay, I wouldn’t want it either way”, said Steve, looking up at the grinning Sam, the little gap between his teeth making him always look incredibly kind.

“You still don’t want to date anyone?”, Sam raised his eyebrows, making Steve shrug. “I’m not the kind of dating type, besides Peggy and I broke up three months ago, that’s still fresh”, if Steve had to be honest with himself he knew it wasn’t because of Peggy, yes, they broke up in a big fight after he found out he cheated and he was hurt. But he wasn’t heartbroken.

He was heartbroken once.

And he swore to never love someone like he loved you.

“Man, but-“ “Sam, I mean it. I’m done with dating, I guess I’m not…dating material, or something…I don’t know. It’s been always like that”, Steve sighed, feeling Buckys hand squeeze his shoulder. “It’s been over five years Steve, you have to let her go. You don’t even know where she is-God, if she’s alive? You have no idea what happened to her””Buck don’t say that”, Steve only grumbled, looking down at his coffee, before taking a big sip of the hot liquid. He felt his throat burn, but ignored it, taking another sip, just to avoid any more conversations about love, relationships or you. He’ll definitely complain about being alone on the weekend after a few too many drinks.

He could feel both of his friends gaze on him, trying to avoid lifting his head, but then he heard a voice-

While Sam and Bucky started talking about something, Steve looked around the café, trying to find the source of the voice. He knew this voice.

Or was he that paranoid? He couldn’t have it so bad even imagining your voice in random places, right? Maybe it’s because of the conversations? Or-

But then he heard your laugh. He’d always recognise your pretty laugh. Everywhere. He felt like he was once again at his desk, watching as you checked his homework, laughing at the little sketches he had doodled around the exercises.

He hadn’t even noticed standing up, leaving their booth to find you-and he didn’t have to search long.

There you were.

Only a few booths away, sitting with another woman, the two of you were laughing, maybe about some funny story? Maybe a funny memorie? Or something that happened recently? His thoughts were racing. How was it even possible? He had been looking for you for the past five years and now after he finally gave up-you were here? Sitting in the same cáfe as him?

He felt his knees buckle, as he stepped closer at your table, not even noticing how Bucky and Sam stopped their conversation a while ago, watching what Steve was doing.

When he finally stopped at your table the redhead looked up at him first, a predatory smile creeping onto her lips, but Steve’s gaze was glued to you. You hadn’t changed a bit. Still the same beauty he had got to know.

Fuck

He was so fucked

So so fucked

“Excuse me? Can we help you?”, you asked, a friendly but confused smile on your face. Your eyes roamed over Steve’s body, finally stopping at his face. Yet you still hadn’t recognised him. Did the beard really change him so much? He also hadn’t had a haircut in a while…and gained even more muscles…but his face was still the same?

“Are you okay?”, you asked again, pulling your eyebrows together. This man seemed familiar. Very familiar even….

You immediately felt like he was important to you. Like he was…oh god…

Steve saw the exact moment when your eyes lit up with recognition. A little sparkle appeared. The smile turned from confused to happy and then to a frown. As if something unpleasant crossed your mind. Then he could see something like hurt in your eyes.

“Steve…”, your voice was only above a quiet whisper, barely audible. But he heard it.

And for the first time after having thought you hated him, leaving him behind like he was nothing, he could hear in your voice you had been heartbroken, too.

Thank you for reading!! I really hope you liked it.

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[bicycle4two]

short fic starring jason and his little mouse from built to love, but broken now

find more ficlets of this couple here

College Days

College.

You’ve never really given it much thought. You’d been editing videos since high school, have made a decent income from it, and never really thought of pursuing anything else. It also helps that although your parents never really cared for you, at least not in the ways that you needed, they had left you enough money to be able to manage on your own for a few years, even with the hefty hospital bills.

So, further education has never been on your mind, didn’t seem like a priority with how your life has been going so far.

But Jason, surprisingly, wanted to go, brought it up over dinner one night before he went out for patrol.

“What do you think about English Lit, mouse?” He had asked as he pushed his food around with his fork.

“Like, as a subject?”

“Well, yeah, like, what do you think if I take it up when the new term starts at Gotham U?”

“I, really, Jason? You want to go?”

“I always liked reading, books, discussing them with Alfred. So, I figured, why not?”

“But do you need to go to college for that? You can, like, sign up for a book club at the library or something.”

There’s a light blush on Jason’s cheeks and he tries to hide it with his hand, tries to play it off. He’s embarrassed. “It’s not just books. I liked school.”

“Well, then sure. I think English Lit is a good course for you to take up.”

“Why don’t you go with me?”

“I, I can’t afford the tuition, Jason.” Now you were playing around with your food, finding it easier to look at than Jason. You could see that he was excited, that this is something he wanted for the both of you.

“So, apply for a scholarship. Hell, we have money. It’s no big deal.”

“No, you have money.”

“Mouse. If you want to go, I’ll make sure it happens.”

So, college. It’s an interesting idea. You think that more than teaching you things that you can learn on the internet anyway, it’s the experience that you want to have. High school was rough, but you think that being on the same campus as Jason might be interesting. You’d at least have a friend to have lunch with.

It’s just, do you really want to take up math again? It seems like it’s an unavoidable subject, that all courses have to at least have the basic units. Algebra and Statistics. And you think, is going back to school really worth it?

“I can help you. You’re not going in this alone.” Jason laughs in that airy chuckle like way of his, more like an amused puff of air, when he sees you sort through different course pamphlets. Rather than ranking them by genuine interest, you were tossing out the courses that required more than two math units, the minimum.

“You’ll have other things to worry about, Jason. You’ll have your own classes, patrol, you can’t just drop everything and tutor me.”

“This is supposed to be fun, mouse.”

“I just don’t want to fail.”

“You’re not going to,” Jason says confidently. He’s been getting more and more comfortable with the idea of going back to school by the day. He’s looked up past syllabuses online, looked into forums where students discussed the best teachers for each subject. “But even if you do, it’s alright. We’re there to learn. It’s not like you’re gunning for a desk job after, right? You’re settled here. Just choose something that’s interesting.”

“I did always want to try art.”

“There you go! And look, only two units of math!”

“Ugh. You better make time for me in your schedule. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

“I’ll always have time for you.”

...

a/n: inspired by the fact that jason loves books and i genuinely think (and i’m pretty sure i’ve seen discussions about it somewhere with actual proof) that jason’s a nerd and did enjoy school

also i’m just projecting my own frustrations with going back to school and math here. i’ve graduated years ago but still stick to the fact that if i didn’t have to take math ever again, i’d go back.

[theworldinclines]

Title: this is easy (the signs are simple prequel, wave’s pov)

Pairing: Pre-Pang/Wave

Read on Ao3 or below the cut -

     Wave expected his counselor to congratulate him on another week’s work, as impressive and leagues above the other students as Wave always is. What he receives is Kru Pom shuffling through papers with his patented mix of concern and cheerfulness.

     “Have you given any more thought to joining — ”

     “I don’t need a sport on my transcript.”

     “Wave, it will diversify — ”

     “I don’t need to diversify my transcript. I’m going to university for computer science; nowhere on any of their brochures does it say I’ll only be accepted if I’ve kicked a ball at some other kids.”

     Pom brings his hands together atop the desk, his strained patience evident. Wave’s been waiting for this guy to snap since the afternoon they’d met three years ago, but it’s yet to happen. Maybe today will be the day.

     “Wave,” Pom says, “you remember what I told you last month?”

     “The ultimatum?”

     “It wasn’t — ” Pom takes a small breath. “Is this you making your decision?”

     Wave doesn’t date. A small glitch in junior high had put him off the notion. It isn’t so bad that he’s actively, like, repulsed by seeing couples in public or in the media; they can do whatever they want. It doesn’t matter to him. An endless barrage of assignments and his extra credit IT position give him plenty enough to focus on without getting himself worked up by hands held in the street. When he’s got so much to deal with, Wave just can’t let little stuff get to him.

     Except for, of course, one not so small annoyance named Pawaret. Wave isn’t sure what it is about the other boy that makes him so — maybe the word he’s looking for is homicidal. A more stable person might just say uncomfortable.

     Either way, Wave considers himself fortunate that he and Pang don’t normally study in the same classroom, Pang in VIII, Wave in I. The only time during a day that finds the two boys together is a required World History class, something Wave considers a foolish waste of his energy and a total bore as well. If he wanted to hear about a 200-year-old spat between two countries, the Internet could provide far more accuracy than a textbook written in the mid-90s could.

     On his end, Pang excels in History. He’s not a numbers man, a fact Wave has unwillingly learned in his time hearing Pang whinge to his buddy Nac about maths homework. He does much better in the liberal arts, things Wave generally has no use for and finds tedious. Numbers and figures don’t lie. There’s a consistent answer, always, with no room for opinions and feelings. It’s ideal for someone like Wave, who’s none too gifted when it comes to such things.

     His ears catch Nac insisting that Pang ask some poor sap for help with the maths assignment. Wave doesn’t like Nac. Wave bets that one tap would crack like plastic against Nac’s perfectly gelled hair, and he’s got a smile that would fit the face of a bully in a lame made-for-TV movie. He hasn’t yet provoked Wave, so he really hasn’t any reason to dislike him this severely, but that doesn’t stop Wave’s eyes from rolling to the sky whenever Nac is in the vicinity.

     Right now he has an arm around Pang’s chair as he brushes their shoulders together to whisper. Wave shakes his head at the display. They don’t ever shut up, even when class is set to begin in mere minutes. You’d think they would want to check over their work for today, or for once in their life do anything that might prove useful, but of course they just babble to each other until the very last second. Idiots.

     “Uh, Wave?”

     Startled, Wave looks up to find that Pang has all but teleported to Wave’s desk sporting a sheepish grin. That look probably gets Pang whatever he wants — from anyone who isn’t Wave. Unlike those of a weaker will, Wave just stares at him, then pointedly returns to his work.

     “I was wondering if you could help with my algebra,” Pang perseveres. “I’m one tanked quiz away from flunking and if I don’t get at least a B-plus on this assignment, I’m — ”

     “Why should I help you?”

     “Because… you’re a computer genius?” Pang counters. “The best with numbers and stuff I couldn’t do in a million years?” The raised eyebrows beneath his (unfortunate) fringe suggest that anyone with half a brain would know this about Wave Wasuthorn. Which isn’t exactly incorrect.

     Pang’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, continuing, “How many more compliments will you accept as payment for helping me?”

     “None.”

     “Really?” Pang says happily, his features alight with a grin.

     Wave forces his eyes back down to his History textbook. “None — because I’m not helping you,” he clarifies. “I have enough to do without having to teach you basic math.”

     “I mean, algebra-two isn’t basic — ” When it’s clear that Wave isn’t going to look at him again, Pang’s lips zip into a frown over words that he can’t say in a classroom and he simply returns to his seat.

     “Worth a shot,” he mutters to Nac.

     “He’s such a jackass; as if he couldn’t spare an afternoon,” Nac says, voice barely lowered. Wave’s jaw clenches, but he isn’t one to be goaded by infantile troglodytes so he doesn’t look their way. Pang isn’t his responsibility. If Nac is really that bothered by Pang’s failings, he can tutor the guy on his own and see if that gets him anywhere.

     To his surprise, Pang replies quietly to Nac, “Maybe he’s actually busy. He’s in classes we’ve never even heard of.”

     Nac snorts, but doesn’t say anything else. Soon after, class is called to order and for the duration Wave manages to not think about Pang defending him to his best friend, even despite Wave’s prior refusal to offer aid.

     Pang is actually in the library when Wave gets there, which he has to add as a point in the guy’s favour. It’s just enough to lend confidence to Wave in his change of heart. He announces his arrival by dropping his bag onto the table with a clunk.

     “I hope you’re excited to work your ass off,” Wave says, a cheerful tone going against his flat frown.

     Pang looks at him in confusion. “You’re going to tutor me? But you said th — ”

     “Do you want me or not?” Wave demands, overriding his own inept phrasing with a glare.

     Pang looks like he wants to be annoyed, probably is super annoyed, but his voice is nothing but earnest when he says, “I need to pass this class. Help me.”

     Pang looks pathetic and desperate, which is entertaining as hell, and it so happens that this came at the perfect time.

     “Then listen up.”

     The following morning, Wave drops into his counselor’s office with an unceremonious, “I’m not doing a sport.”

     Kru Pom sighs. He sighs a lot where Wave is concerned. “Then it’s the tutoring,” he says. “I’ll reach out to a couple students I’ve spoken with.”

     “I already know someone who needs the help.”

     “It isn’t a good idea to tutor a friend, Wave; you’ll both need to focus.”

     Wave very nearly laughs out loud. “Trust me, he isn’t a friend,” he assures the counselor. “But he’s basically failing and bringing up his marks will make me out to be a miracle worker. I’ve already considered every angle.”

     Pom stares at Wave, but nods slowly. “I can see you’ve made up your mind. Who is it?”

     “Class Eight kid. Parawet Sermrittirong.”

     “Ah, Pang. He’s a good student with a lot of ideas. Bit of trouble focusing.”

     Well aware of Pang’s inability to do anything but chatter, Wave scoffs at what he thinks is an understatement. He hitches up his bag on his way out but pauses at Kru Pom’s, “Do try to be — patient with this kid, alright, Wave? You might find you even get along.”

     “I don’t plan on needing to stick around him long enough for that.”

[thedovahcat]

Its 1AM go to bed

Kinda just sitting here when I really should be in bed, but I’m too busy looking over a 4 year degree for cybersecurity or com sci software engineer idfk-

I don’t doubt I have the brain to fully make the transition from graphic design to com sci or something, but my god... Math is truly going to be the killer. I haven’t done ANY kind of algebra in about... gosh. Maybe a few years shy of a decade??

That’s going to be the biggest time and money waster. I don’t know if anything I did in community college is going to account for at least some of the more Gen Ed things, I’ll have to speak to a councilor about that. I ordered some extra sealed transcripts as well just in case.

No shame in starting over I guess. It’s crazy how we expect kids straight out of highschool to just hit the books hard some more to get that ‘good job’ they always told us about. My brain was fucking fried by the time I turned 18. I was sick of school, I didn’t want to be there and I had absolutely no plan. Didn’t know what I was going to do for a job. Graphic Designer is too broad for me, I need something way more specialized and something that’s going to be needed severely in the future. And computers are pretty much the only thing I care about/have interest in.

I dunno it just...

Feels weird that I have to start over in a way? This pandemic did a lot of damage everywhere though. Many folks have had to reinvent themselves n try something else, and really after this big move halfway across the whole country I’m not going to find a better chance. I have money saved up from my safety net, but I don’t know if that’s gonna be enough to solidly pay for a whole bachelors. It would be NICE! Certainly! I’m extremely hesitant about loans for obvious reasons. I don’t like that sword hanging over my head.

Just a whole lot to think about. I’m not thirty yet (almost though!) and really, age is just a number. If I gotta be in my mid thirties or whatever by the time I get a stupid degree actually worth something, just so I can secure a job that can pay a mortgage and allow me to live comfortably? It will have been worth it.

Sadly I am extremely allergic to hard work (so I say. I think it’s more how I feel, I’ll still saddle up but my god will I be dragging my feet), so I hope I don’t just collapse in the middle and want to quit.

I don’t think I will. Failure is not an option. It never was. I’ve always done very well in school, and I have no reason to doubt I will do well again. Maybe even moreso, coming at it with an older mind and much more experience than before.

It’s very difficult for me to not feel so hghnnghhgh about potentially wasting my time relearning math and other subjects I ain’t seen in a long time, but...if it’s what I have to do then so be it. I’ll figure something out.

It’s stressful just imagining it all right now but...

Kind of exciting too. Whatever happens it’ll be ok. Somehow.

[bittermause]

I never really been a fan of myself growing up. I never really liked who I was, how I looked, how I sounded.  Not only was I prone to constant bullying from childhood all the way to high school, I also had to live with a very reactionary father and an emotionally manipulative mother.

   There had been times where I would be gas-lit by the both of them, for errors I didn't commit. I would be screamed at for a variety of things that ranged from having a hard time understanding math homework, to drinking the last Pepsi, or not putting enough dirty dishes in the dishwashing machine before starting it up.  I would apologize profusely and with sincerity, but all it did was open myself to attack than understanding that I could do better.

   They wanted me to lose weight, made it very clear I was a chubby kid, but anytime I expressed interest in after school sport or activity, they decided it was too dangerous. I lost interest there.

    Growing up in an emotionally tense household left me walking on eggshells, having to ask for every single little thing, even for small things like a snack because god forbid I would get my head bit off.  

 My boundaries were also very limited; waking up to my father trying to tug my legs out of bed when I wanted to sleep in on the weekend, my mother barking orders at me from downstairs, not bothering to say please or thank you whenever I did them, or whenever I said 'no' or 'please stop' whenever I didn't want to be tickled or talk about a sensitive topic, it would be met with an irritated answer or a guilt trip response. The worst was when my mother friended my ex on Facebook for a period of time, even after what I told her what happened in our relationship. She saw no wrong in it, despite my making it clear how emotionally distressful it was for me.  

  All these moments I mentioned, formed the 'mask' I've held up for many years; a fat, ugly, goofy-ass looking face for people to laugh at and walk all over, including for myself. Comedy has always been an important factor of my life, has been my pacifier and a means to help heal others when they needed an uplift. Unfortunately, I used comedy to play into the stereotypical buffoon. When people made fun of me, spoke ill of me, it was my way of saying "You dare to try and take me down? Jokes on you fucker I already did that myself!".  It got to a point where I really believed I was a weird, gross, unlovable person and that I just had to "roll with it".

  The little red notes were actual quotes taken from moments in my life that stuck with me for years. It is a mixture from my father, my mother, and myself.  I'll go through a small few of them;

I was called a dumbass by my mother for failing basic algebra. Never apologized.

When she screamed at me for not filling the dishwasher properly, I stood up for myself by telling her it was an accident, and she had no right to yell at me. The next morning, she greeted me with a hug and whispered "PMSSSSS PMSSSS PMSSSS!" in my ear harshly, but kept this eerie smug grin on her face the entire time.

My father had a tendency to rant about the stupidity of other people's actions and had his fare share of road rage. Sometimes it would get so bad he would talk about how he'd love to just beat these people up and put them in their place. One day, while riding in the car with him, someone cut him off at the turn lane and he bickered out loud. I told him "It's okay, eventually this person will cease to exist one day." and he turns to me asking why I'm so hateful.

The drawing is framed as a vanity/show mirror, as a way to force myself to look underneath the mask I've always worn, and to show the shred of humanity I had left;  the side of me that was tired, scared, wanting to be loved and craving to move forward from the shit past experiences that surrounded me for 35 god awful years.

    I am sharing this now because I know there are people out there that suffered similar, whether it's mental, emotional, and verbal abuse from someone that should've been your loved one, or self-sabotage as a means to shield yourself from others.  Granting myself empathy has been extremely hard, telling myself that I am not a mirror of my parents' shortcomings, and convincing myself that I'm not some randy hobgoblin for other peoples' entertainment, that I'm human.  Not only that, but giving myself the confidence to try new things, to allow myself to make mistakes and learn along the way without fear of being put down has also been an incredibly hard process because of the mental scars.  

  It still hurts, but not as much as when I lived with the trauma, and before I started therapy. There is so much un-doing that I have to work on, and rehabilitate the positive traits I lost from childhood.

One day that mask will fall out of my hands completely, and I can truly say; "shows over, dickheads."

[fuzzy-deluxe]

silly little ficlet about toph going to school

yes i had class of ‘09 in mind when writing this

+*☆*+

My name is Toph Beifong, and I’m just a regular highschool girl. Theres nothing really special about me, except for the fact that im blind, but hey, what can you do?

With that being said, I don’t really get why all this weird shit has to happen to me.

Literally the other day, my math professor tried to hit on me and thought I wouldn’t notice. I’m blind, not fucking stupid.

I’m also 14. What the fuck are children doing right that adults are doing wrong?

If the teachers don’t hit on you, the unwashed incels that go to this school will. When I tell you that the people here swear up and down that Four Nations is the best school ever, believe me, and believe me when I tell you it’s not.

It’s not even a good school. Like at all. At least six girls get pregnant each year and two out of those few have been molested.

There was a fire in the science lab yesterday, and half of the building collapsed. They gave us the rest of the week off, so that’s pretty great, but then news got out that they found a cult living in the basement. They had to retreat because it got too hot in the boiler room.

Anyway, as Im sitting here in algebra, I’m sure you can already guess that the teacher is rambling about how shitty her life is instead of teaching algebra.

I’ve noticed that I’m much better at pretending to give a fuck than I thought I was.

The cult is back by the way.

-

Science is literally the most fucking stupid subject ever. Literally why do I even have to take it, I’m blind, I’m literally never going to be fucking around with chemicals.

“Now, who knows where the atomic number is located?”

A boy next to her raised his hand, looking expecting and bright eyed.

“Come on, Aang. We learned this shit in eighth grade, right? This isn’t fucking kindergarten. Put your hand down.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic, Toph. It’s always good to learn new things. Plus, I forgot where the atomic number is located.”

“When in your daily life would you ever need to know where the fucking atomic number is? I’m really wondering why they don’t teach us how to pay taxes and bills and shit like that.”

+*☆*+

this is the worst shit ive ever written im literally tearing up as i type this

[altheterrible]

I would like some dopamine, please.

Today in therapy we talked about how I grew up with no source of external validation because my parents didn’t give a shit about me, so I learned to tackle goals without needing encouragement from others. This has been a good thing in some ways; I am very good at setting goals and achieving them whether or not I have someone patting me on the back, and that has allowed me to accomplish some really hard things even when I had to do it alone. My parents certainly framed this as a favor--they believed their no-love approach was more reflective of what I’d encounter in the real world and it was better for me to get used to it early.

But at the same time, they deliberately destroyed my ability to validate myself, too. If I was proud of myself for any reason, like learning a complicated piano piece or making it into the National Honor Society, they would tell me that my accomplishments were due to their effort, not mine. Or they would downplay how hard I worked. Or they would say I was “uppity” and “snobby” and thought I was better than them because I was smart/talented/whatever, but academic stuff isn’t what’s important in life, and you are a failure in other ways, blah blah blah.

Like, in 8th grade, I took Algebra 1 and neither of my parents could help me with my math homework at that point since they both dropped out in early high school. I’d get frustrated trying to figure things out on my own using just the textbook because the internet wasn’t really a thing yet. Once after hours of trying to solve an equation, I snapped at my mom because she told me that I was getting too worked up about “math that no one even uses.” I said “just because you don’t use it doesn’t mean other people don’t!” So she laid this guilt trip on me about how I clearly thought she was stupid, and she said I was ungrateful for all the sacrifices she’d made, and she finished off by suggesting that I needed to adjust my attitude and stop thinking I was special because I was smart, because maybe I was good at school but I didn’t support the household or do enough chores and I was inadequate in a million other ways.

Honestly I think that shit is what caused the fucked up reward system in my brain. Like, when I achieve a Goal, there’s no little jolt of dopamine to make me feel good about it. And that looks enough like ADHD that I’ve been officially diagnosed with it twice, but...I really think it’s just that trauma and abuse led me to uncouple feelings of pride, pleasure, and self-worth from the act of accomplishing goals. Pride goes before the fall. Pride gets you taken down a few notches, and there’s always a lower notch for you.

Even when I graduated with my doctorate, an endeavor I started in 11th grade and finished 14 years later, I didn’t feel proud of myself. Maybe for a day or two? But then, nothing. Yeah, I have a doctorate, but really, if I did it, how hard can it be? Yeah, I have a doctorate, but it took me until I was 32 to get it. Yeah, I have a doctorate, but I didn’t graduate with honors. Yeah, I have a doctorate, but but but but. I could have done more, done better, and done it faster.

I can’t feel proud of myself when I accomplish goals because there’s always more I could have done.

The goalposts move as fast as I get to them.

[theblowingleaves]

Summer

I started my internship and I see it as the last check to make sure I want to do research and not go to industry. So far I’m feeling like yeah I could do this for a while if I really wanted to but I hate being in the office. When I do physics or math I enjoy sitting and working on a problem for hours, but with an internship I’m constantly bothered every hour. It’s nice to talk to other people but it makes me completely lose focus.

I’m also trying to do some studying on the side for my advanced linear algebra course and my magnetism course. It’s so hard though. I get home from work and I’m so tired and the heat takes all my energy away. Once I start everything is alright but it’s the starting that’s always the hard part. 

I’ve only been able to review from my intro linear course so far and it’s so discouraging. I feel like I’m not getting anywhere. I think I just need to keep reminding myself that doing SOMETHING is better than not looking at any math or physics over the summer at all. 

[flourgirl]

Sleepyhead

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

Work Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.

A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3

“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo

Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you. 

He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.

You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.

It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.

Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time. 

The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.

“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”

You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”

He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.

“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”

“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.” 

That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.

“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”

You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”

“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”

Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.

The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.

“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”

Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.

“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”

“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”

“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”

Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”

“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.

Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.

He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”

If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.

Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.

He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.

All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.

Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.

“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”

“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”

“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”

“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.

“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.

“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”

“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.

“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”

“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.

His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.

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

“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”

He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.

“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.

You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”

Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.

“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.

Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.

Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”

Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.

The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.

Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it. 

Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.

When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.

His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”

You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”

“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”

Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.

“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”

You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.

In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face. 

It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.

“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.

“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”

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

You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.

One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.

“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”

He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter. 

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.

“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”

“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you. 

“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.

It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket. 

“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.

“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.

“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”

Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.

“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.

“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”

“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.

“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.

“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.

“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.

“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”

“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat. 

“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”

He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.

“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.” 

You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

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

You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.

“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.

“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.

“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad. 

“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”

Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.

“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”

“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.

“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”

“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.

“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”

“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”

“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.

“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”

Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.

“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.

“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.

“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.

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

“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”

“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.

“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”

“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.

“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”

“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.

“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”

“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.

“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.

“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”

“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.

“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”

“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.

“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.

“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”

You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.

“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.

“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.” 

“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.

It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.

“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.

“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.

“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”

There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.

“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before. 

The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up. 

“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore. 

Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.

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

Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.

You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”

“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished. 

“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.

Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”

You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.

“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”

He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.

“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.

“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”

“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”

“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.

“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.

“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”

“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”

“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.

“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—

“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”

“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”

“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”

“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.

“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.

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

A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.

He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.

“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.

“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”

“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.

He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.

“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”

“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”

Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.

“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.

“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”

“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”

“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.

“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”

“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”

“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”

“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”

“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”

“Maybe it will, tonight.”

It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”

You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”

You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.

“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”

For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.

“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

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

Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions. 

“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.

“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”

“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”

“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.

“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.

“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”

“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.

“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.

Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.

“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.

“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.

“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.

“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”

“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”

“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”

You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.

“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him. 

For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.

“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.

“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”

“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.

“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.

“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”

Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”

“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.

“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. “You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”

“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”

“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”

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

Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.

“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.

“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.

“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.

“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”

“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.

“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.

“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.

“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.

“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”

“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.

“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”

“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”

“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.

“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.

“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”

Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”

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

Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.

Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”

“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”

“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”

“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”

You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.

“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago. 

“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”

He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.

A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight. 

“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”

“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”

Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.

“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.

“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”

“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.

“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.

“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”

“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.

“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

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

Taglist: @hommyy-tommy @itsgonnabeohtay @alltimekyn @allycat449-blog @greatpizzascissorstaco @dummiesshort @parkerpeterparker2004 @letssee2468 @parkerlovebot @alytavzla @yourbiggestspiderfan @silentium-tais-toi @jailcalledlife @orangesodafoam @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @spideydreamers @taciturnspidey @harrisonsoceaneyes

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

[heartachebf]

@songofassandfire said: Okay uhhh maybe after the broship breakup in the vaccination special, Kenny gets fed up and exhausted with being sort of passed around between his friends, and ends up finding comfort in butters? Sorry if that’s too vague mgddngdng

i hope u like it, dude! not my best work, but im pretty satisfied with this :) i wrote this with them as teenagers in mind because, well, i write what i know most of the time, and i remember being in high school better than i remember being in fourth grade jhfdajk

im still taking short bunny, creek, or style drabble requests to help me get back into writing! feel free to send any requests youve got in mind here <3 now, onto the ficlet !

while butters is doing homework in his room, on his belly on his bed with his chin resting in his palm, he gets a sudden notification on his phone, a loud buzz startling him out of his homework induced reverie. he frowns at the distraction from the math problem he was struggling through, though he is partially grateful to have an excuse to look away from all the angry numbers and letters on his paper. he sits up, grabs his phone, and unlocks it eagerly.

from: ken ♥ hey can i come over for a bit? i need to get away from my friends lol

butters frowns at the message, types out a quick response of sure, i’m up in my room, before returning to laying on his stomach and staring at his homework, as if looking at it hard enough will magically solve all of the problems for him. he quickly finds himself drifting off, though, thinking about his boyfriend’s current predicament with their mutual friends. he doesn’t know much about the whole issue with them - he only knows bits and pieces from what kenny has been willing to divulge during their nightly phone calls, but from what he does know, it sounds messy. he knows that kenny’s three friends have split up for reasons unknown to him, and have thus taken to toting kenny between them like a divorced couple slinging a child between them. butters grimaces. it must be a nightmare to be treated like that.

while he’s lost in his thoughts, he’s suddenly shocked by a body bouncing on his bed next to him. butters is just about to scream when a familiar, calloused hand is shoved over his mouth. he finally looks up to see who’s in his bedroom, smiling wide under the palm on his mouth when he sees his boyfriend. kenny smiles wide back at him, his normal crooked and charming smile making butters feel warm and gooey inside.

as soon as kenny moves his hand, butters leaps up, throwing his arms around kenny’s neck. “hi, ken!” butters says eagerly, smiling even bigger when he feels kenny’s strong arms loop around his waist.

“hi, buttercup!” kenny responds, trying to sound just as eager, but it’s clear to butters just how exhausted he is.

butters pulls away a bit so he can look at kenny’s face now, taking in his tired expression with a frown. “what’s going on, cupcake?” he asks, gently brushing kenny’s messy bangs out of his face.

kenny lets out a long suffering sigh, leaning into butters’s hands. “my friends are driving me insane. i’m so sick of them treating me like their kid. as if i’m not as mature as the rest of them. y’know, i might even be more mature than them.”

butters nods understandingly, moving to sit cross legged next to kenny. “i know what you mean, honey. have you tried talking to them about how you feel about the arrangement lately?”

kenny groans, leaning forward to plop his head on butters’s shoulder. “i keep trying to talk to them, but every time i bring up the situation to any of them, they immediately just shut down and try and change the subject. i think i almost got stan to crack and listen to me once, but they’re all just.. ugh. i’m so close to just dropping all three of them until they all get their shit together.”

butters nods along as kenny speaks, gently running his fingers through his boyfriend’s sandy curls. “i think you should,” butters says softly, encouragingly. “maybe what they need is for you to leave them in order to kick their butts into gear! they’re bein’ pretty dumb with this whole thing, i think.”

“god, tell me about it!” kenny says, laughing bitterly. he reaches up to rub at his face tiredly. “they’re such dumbasses.”

butters laughs softly and nods in agreement. “definitely. i think they just need a little push to realize that they’re, like... you guys are like platonic soulmates! i think, um, taking a break from each other is good for them, but they’re going about it the wrong way.”

kenny huffs out a breath and nods before pulling away to look at butters. “how’d you get to be so smart, babe?”

butters lets out a small noise of surprise. “who, me?”

kenny laughs and nods, smiling wide before leaning forward to kiss butters softly. “yes, you! i never really thought of us as soulmates before, but that makes a ton of sense. i’m gonna tell ‘em to piss off until they get their shit together, i’m sick of being toted around like a little kid!”

butters smiles wide and toothy, gently cupping kenny’s face in his hands. “that’s a buddy! i think it’ll be really good for you to get away from them, cupcake!”

kenny smiles just as wide back, leaning in to kiss him softly again. “me too, babe. it’ll be fun to hang out with other people for once. maybe i’ll get into less chaos without those guys around.”

butters giggles and nods, reaching to grab kenny’s hands and squeezing them lightly. “yeah! i’ve been sitting with craig and his friends lately, you should join us! they’re a lotta fun, and they don’t start as much drama.”

“god knows i could use some of the peace that they bring,” kenny says, interlocking his fingers with butters’s, squeezing his hands mindlessly.

“feel a little better now?” butters asks after a moment, tilting his head. when kenny nods, he continues, “great! now, how about you help me with my math homework? algebra always makes my head spin...”

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

The Lonely House

Another thing with Teddy when he was still an unnamed whumpee. and a picrew i guess. 

CW: Captivity, food mention, easily angered whumper, blood mention, someone else cutting your nails, implied isolation, brief noncon touch (nonsexual), restraints mention.

Teddy carefully measured out the oats into a little cup, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the other hand. He added the water and salt before putting it on the only burner that worked. 

His ankle chain dragged across the ground as he got the milk from the mini fridge. 

There was still a little left, but he marked it on the pad stuck to the fridge. Milk, protein bars, oranges, body wash. There was a little box at the bottom, meant for special treats, where he had just written “colored pencils.” He tried to keep the requests simple, preferring to keep the option rather than write something too big and never be allowed it again. 

It had said “going home” for weeks at first.

The oats boiled and Teddy went back to check on them. He had enough until the day the Man would come back, but it was still a bad idea to waste food. Seven days; it was always seven days but Teddy didn’t know what day it was. He liked to think the visits came on Saturdays, but it could have been a Tuesday for all he knew. Regardless, it was still two days away. 

The Man would come up from the hatch in the floor and talk to him for a little bit. He’d take the list, take the trash, and then Teddy would be alone for another seven days. The attic apartment was small, but it was worlds better than the coal shed. 

There was a small kitchen - really only a broken stove top and a sink. Next to the sink, a curtain obscured a small alcove with a toilet and showerhead. There was a window above the sink, but it was boarded over. Light still trickled through the cracks, sending sideways shafts of yellow warmth onto the old tile floors. There was space for a normal sized fridge, but there was only a small one in its place. The other side of the kitchen was made nearly unusable from the slant of the roof. 

Teddy got his oatmeal and walked around the single wall to the bedroom area. As he walked by the locked trap door, he heard a noise from somewhere farther down in the house. He froze instantly, hand over his mouth. He was supposed to be silent. Fully silent, always silent. The Man was home, the man was in the house. Teddy could never tell, never knew when he was actually there or not. 

After agonizing moments spent staring wide eyed at the hatch, Teddy uncovered his mouth to give a shaky exhale and rub his eyes under his glasses. Holding the mug of oatmeal with one hand, he gathered his chain in the other to keep it from dragging too loudly. 

The bedroom area was the same size as the kitchen, twin bed pressed as far as it could get to the side. Because of the roof, there was the smallest of spaces between the edge of the bed and where the slant met the floor. It was his hiding place, but one rendered completely useless from the chain that would lead up to it. But for now, Teddy was fine with just sitting on the bed to eat his breakfast. The wall had a bookshelf and a little table and chair. 

It had come with a few books, which Teddy had read by this point, but he was nervous to ask for any more. 

The Man didn’t like it when he got greedy. 

Teddy at his breakfast in silence and rinsed out the mug. Another thing that the Man didn’t like was if he got messy. No, he wanted Teddy quiet and clean and behaved. The shed had been a nightmare, small and dirty and dark. Teddy didn’t want to go back, didn’t want to be dragged downstairs and outside by his hair. So he did the washing and folded his clothes and kept his attic clean. He kept the floors swept and the tile mopped and the spines of the books upright and in order. 

After breakfast had been eaten and cleaned up, Teddy made his way back to the desk. One of the books was an old algebra textbook. He had sworn to himself that he would never touch math the second he was done with school, but here he was. Doing algebra. 

He was considering asking for another type of workbook. Something else, maybe something a little harder? Math wasn’t his favorite but it would be the one to keep him occupied for longer. Science or history or languages would be - hard. Not to learn, but to have to live with the knowledge that he couldn’t see them for himself. It wouldn’t matter how much he learned, how fluent he became, that wouldn’t unlock the cuff from his ankle or the padlock from the door. 

Maybe if he didn’t write anything for a visit or two and then asked it wouldn't be seen as greedy. 

Teddy worked a little longer before he heard the sounds of someone moving around again below him. He bit his lip, knowing that he had been quiet. The lock clattered and he scrambled for the bed. 

The latch opened and the ladder went down past where Teddy could see. Pressing himself against the flat side of the wall, comforter huddled around him as he peeked out from behind his knees. Sometimes, sometimes the man did just come up, but it was always nerve wracking. He had done what he was supposed to, so maybe it was just an extra visit? 

The man slowly appeared, smiling at him. “Hello there little mouse.” 

Teddy didn’t say anything, didn’t move as the Man came closer. He was older, salt and pepper in his hair and his beard. He was dressed nicely today, as if he had just come from work. 

“What have you been up to today?” He asked as he slowly sat on the bed, leaning forward a little to keep from hitting his head on the roof. Teddy wet his lips. 

“I, I made breakfast, and worked on some math.” 

The Man smiled and reached out to pet Teddy’s gray hair. “Good boy, look at you. Everything all cleaned up?” 

Teddy nodded, shivering from the touch. He didn’t like it, didn’t want it. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good.” The Man tapped Teddy’s nose lightly before reaching into this pocket to get something. “I don’t have much time today, but I remembered something that I’ve been neglecting. Hand.” 

He put out his hand expectantly, waiting for Teddy to extend his. Teddy froze and stared at him, unfamiliar with what was happening. The Man sighed. 

“I said I don’t have much time, son. It’s this or the coal shed.” 

I’m not your son, Teddy thought as he slowly gave his hand. The Man hummed for a moment and then produced the nail clippers that he had brought. Teddy nearly sighed in relief. He wasn’t allowed anything sharp, anything that could be used as a weapon or that could hurt him. 

“Still biting your nails, I see,” the man chastised as he clipped Teddy’s fingernails. Teddy didn’t answer, all of his energy focused on not yanking his hand away. He shifted how he was sitting and Teddy got spooked, moving his hand and causing the clippers to cut into the skin of his finger. 

“I told you to stay still,” the Man growled. No you didn’t! Teddy’s mind screamed, but he didn’t dare say that out loud. 

“S-sorry,” he muttered as the man finished with his pinky. Angrily, he shoved it down and roughly grabbed the boy’s other hand. 

“Sorry, Who?” he was grabbing Teddy’s wrist so tight he was afraid it might bruise. 

“Sir! Sorry, Sir.” 

The Man grunted and Teddy tried to keep his teeth from chattering. He finished without saying anything more, then stood and went to the kitchen. As he collected the trash on the other side of the wall, Teddy looked down at the bleeding place on his finger. He might have some bandaids, somewhere. When he looked up, the man was standing at the ladder with the bag in one hand and Teddy’s list in the other. 

Making direct eye contact, the man ripped the box off the bottom on the sheet and dropped it, not looking down as the slip with “colored pencils” written on it drifted to the floor. He stared at Teddy, expectantly. 

“Thank you, Sir,” he said softly, knowing he was always supposed to thank him when he took the list. He depended on that list, on the Man. He swallowed, eyes lowered, silently mourning the loss of the small luxury. 

The Man said nothing to him as he climbed down the ladder and locked it again. Teddy sighed, faintly wondering if it would be seven days or nine alone in the attic.

[theanimeview]

My Nitpick Issue with Sherlock in Moriarty the Patriot

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @pswediting​

It may surprise some of you to know that I have degrees in book reading and writing. While earning those degrees I studied one specific time period more than the others--that being British Literature from late-17th/18th century through the early 20th century. This is to say that it is a time period I know a little more about than you might think. And early 1900s is probably my favorite period out of that timeline, particularly England under Victoria’s rule. 

And, perhaps, because of this strange obsession I have with the period, I presently have a small bone to pick over Moriarty the Patriot. 

It’s not the minor inaccuracies of the clothes, nor the adaptation of character designs. It’s not even the adjustment to social tendencies depicted that are more Japanese than British-English of any period thus far either--because those kinds of things happen frequently in adaptations. And it's not Moriarty or his backstory too! Because, again, this is an adaptation, and liberties will be taken to fit the new story (besides, even in the original works by Doyle the man’s backstory was inconsistent). 

My issue is with the character of Sherlock and his supposed “deductions.” Well, maybe more accurately it's with the writing of Sherlock. 

You see, Sherlock is almost always introduced the same way in an adaptation. He makes a judgment about someone (usually about Watson or the Watson stand-in) and then proves it using his observational skills. This introduction is important because it clarifies that the world of the characters is one based on where common sense and science not only work but make sense. His deductions are logical and based on some semblance of rationality. Here is an excerpt from the original novel: 

“I knew you came from Afghanistan. From long habit the train of thoughts ran so swiftly through my mind, that I arrived at the conclusion without being conscious of intermediate steps. There were such steps, however. The train of reasoning ran, `Here is a gentleman of a medical type, but with the air of a military man. Clearly an army doctor, then. He has just come from the tropics, for his face is dark, and that is not the natural tint of his skin, for his wrists are fair. He has undergone hardship and sickness, as his haggard face says clearly. His left arm has been injured. He holds it in a stiff and unnatural manner. Where in the tropics could an English army doctor have seen much hardship and got his arm wounded? Clearly in Afghanistan.' 

How does this prove we are in a world where common sense and logic works? Well, because he didn’t pull any of these deductions from thin air. He just used his eyes and common knowledge to make a quick judgment. 

In the example above, everything that Sherlock assumes is true and based on reasonable assumptions about the time period and about what he can observe of the person before him. 

The tan of Watson’s skin is something he notes because London is usually dark and wet around this season, so you’re unlikely to get a tan. The way the man walks and stands is also a thing he can observe, and fresh military men walk very differently from the average citizen or gentleman. These two observations, coupled with noticeable injury and limp could lead one to think that maybe he has just come back from the current war (the First Anglo-Afghan War). Of course, maybe he wasn’t injured in the war at all--maybe something else happened; however, you can make a pretty good guess that an abled bodied soldier would not be home and looking for a room in the middle of war-times if something hadn’t happened to him on the battlefield.

My point is that all of Sherlock’s deductions come from observing details, paying attention to the basics of the world (such as the ongoing war or understanding rigor mortis), and using your senses. Sure, there may be a few things the average person doesn’t know that Sherlock does, but that’s because Sherlock has studied different things and to a more serious degree. The level of understanding is different, but not impossible to achieve in one’s own time or effort. And, as another note, Sherlock is not perfectly observant all of the time. There are plenty of examples of him needing to take breaks, of him closing his eyes to block out distractions so he can better focus on what someone is saying, and of him smoking to zone out for a bit so that he can come back to a problem with fresh eyes at a later time. 

It’s absolutely vital to Sherlock’s character, and the original story, that all of the deductions are based on the “possible,” which is why the introduction of Sherlock in Episode 6 of this adaptation immediately irritated me. Here is the scene:

Side note:  I’m sorry it’s shown as a poorly made gif--I literally could not find a copy of the clip with English subtitles on YouTube so I could not include it as a video. If you want to look at it in the episode itself, it starts at about the 13:00 minute mark. EPISODE LINK)

Here is what bothers me so much. Why would a mathematician be checking to see if the staircase on a ship fits the golden ratio? More importantly, why would that in any way matter to Moriarty as a character? Based on what we’ve seen so far of this character, and we’ve had 6 and 1/2 episodes to define him so far, none of Sherlock’s statement makes sense here. 

Like, at all. (And I know that this also happens in the manga--doesn’t make sense there either.)

You know what would make sense though? For the time period and the character development we’ve seen of Moriarty thus far? A pause to consider-- and maybe even compare--staircases on the ship between the main steps for passengers and the steps for commoners or staff. 

Why would that make sense? Oh, thank you so much for asking. Time to get real nerdy here for a minute: 

Class issues were a serious problem in Victorian England (as they are now, though in a different way). These issues were not necessarily the same as depicted in the show but it was still consistently present throughout the society as a whole. (A good, short read on the subject can be found here for those of you interested: Social Life in Victorian England.)

One way that this issue came out was in the very architecture of homes. In Victorian England, nobleman homes and estates were built with main staircases, where the residents and guests walked, and servent staircases, where the staff and other temporary employees walked. The difference in these stairs was huge, as the servant staircases were basically death traps. 

In the late 1800s, a mathematician (and architect) named Peter Nickolson figured out the exact measurements that would generally ensure a comfortable and easy walk upstairs: 

BTW: Here is a great video on the subject and how they were death traps: Staircases in Victorian England

However, Nickolson’s math and designs were not used regularly in the design of houses for years to come. 

By the setting of the story, and given Moriarty’s interest in maths, his understanding of class issues, and beyond--this kind of knowledge would make far more sense than searching for the golden ratio in a man-made set of stairs. 

Moreover, the golden ratio is generally interesting to mathematicians (to my understanding) because it can be seen in nature frequently. It is a pattern found everywhere, from the way that petals grow on flowers, to how seashells form, to freaking hurricane formations! So why on Earth would Moriarty be interested in an architect's choice to use such a ration when planning a staircase? 

He wouldn’t, I believe. Nor would Sherlock generally be able to make that assumption based on his time gazing at the staircase, distance from said staircase, nor angle. 

So what can he deduce, if not that? Well, he may be able to deduce that Moriarty is a nobleman based on his attire. He may also be able to deduce that the man is a student based on age, as in an earlier episode we were told he’s quite young to be teaching in university and appears close in age to his students. Maybe he’s a student of architecture? But, if he’s a nobleman--as we suspect he is based on his attire--then it's unlikely he works a labor-intensive job or one close to it. So, he must be in academia for academic reasons such as mathematics. Physics during that time, as an academic subject, focused more on lighting, heat, electricity, magnetism, and such. And, Sherlock notes that Moriarty is specifically looking at the stairs, not the lights of the ship. 

So, BAM! I’ve deduced Moriarty is a young nobleman who is likely a student of mathematics. Perhaps he’s recently had a lesson on staircases or another algebraic concept that’s caused him to pause with momentary interest. 

It makes a heck of a lot more sense than finding a “golden ratio” in a man-planned and man-made staircase... don’t you think? And, maybe, we can even deduce that rather than a student he’s a professor who has just thought up an interesting lesson--though that would be a BIG jump from the data we’ve been provided here. 

Deductions that come from major leaps in logic make it seem like Sherlock is doing magic... and he is--because it is magical that people find it impressive or believable. It’s not. And I would argue that the original character would find it insulting based on his comments to Watson regarding being compared to other fictional detectives.

Pay in mind, I have this feeling about several adaptations, so my judgment on Moriarty the Patriot isn’t technically exclusive. It just hit me so hard in my first viewing that I felt I needed to share because generally, this issue of deductions becoming magic rather than stemming from logic doesn’t happen in the first two minutes of meeting Sherlock Holmes.

So... yeah. Thanks for coming to my absurd history/lit lesson through Moriarty the Patriot. I appreciate you sticking with me to the end and hope it was enjoyable.

You can watch the series on Funimation.com right now at: https://www.funimation.com/shows/moriarty-the-patriot 

Overall, it’s a pretty good series; although there was a lot more child-murder than I expected...

[starrynite7114]

Confessions

A/N: Good morning all! Hope you’re having a good week thus far. Another update for you lovely people! The Angel jealous headcanon was definitely fun to write! Jealous Angel is always a win. 

Things you never knew and Everything is you will be update next along with two more requests that I’ll be posting. 

Hope you all are staying safe during these times! Love you all! 

Whoever requested this piece, hope you enjoy! <3

92: “ Are you drunk? ” 93: “ Are you high? ” with angel - anon

Word count: 4265

Masterlist

tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @marvelmaree : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @whyisgmora : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @briannab1234 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life : @mheart27 : @claytoncardenasbabymama : @sadeyesgf : @thickemadame : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass : @gemini0410 : @elcococruz : @samcrobae : @sesamepancakes : @iambabyharry : @blackmissfrizzle : @soamayansfangirl : @1-800-imagines : @phoenixhalliwell : @lady-pswrld : @dazzledamazon  : @getyourcrayoncas : @fvckthisbxtchup : @lukealvxz : @scuzmunkie : @nakusaych9 : @danie1432 : @cocotheclown : @soaronmywings : @my-rosegold-soul : @buttercup812 : @itskiranbitch : @angelreyesgirl : @sheeshgivemeabreak : @vicmackeybullshxt : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer : @khyharah : @strawberrywritings : @cherry-icetea : @fuzzy-jellyfish : @losolvidad0s : @brownsugarcoffy : @courtrae89 : @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat : @aquamento : @prdsdjarin

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please leave a comment below or message me! <3

CREDIT  TO THE ORIGINAL GIF MAKER!

People always thought that you were an odd person due to the people you choose to surround yourself with. You were new in town a few years back and somehow, someway, you were adopted by the Mayans. 

But you knew it wasn’t an accident. 

You had served in the Marines with Coco and throughout your service, you two had one another’s backs. You were the little sister he never had so when you finally decided to move away from San Diego, he suggested for you to move to Santo Padre. 

A low key town, with hardly any trouble.

But it was Coco, why did you even believe him? He always stretched the truth.

You couldn’t really be mad at Coco since you were able to meet Angel through him. A ridiculous crush you couldn’t believe you had that developed into something more. Angel wasn’t even your type, which was what Coco always reminded you. 

‘He’s too tall for you.’

‘He has too many tattoos.’

‘He’s a player.’

Coco was looking out for you, you knew that, but you could make your own mistakes. You were a grown woman. And maybe Angel wasn’t your type, but people always said the people you fell for was hardly your quintessential type. Angel just had this certain charm and aura. He was a flirt, had a cocky smirk, and he was so fucking tall. Height has always been a big thing for you, but tattoos on a man was not something you were into either. Angel Reyes? He wore his tattoos well and you honestly couldn’t look away.

You two first met when Coco went to visit you when you were finally discharged from the Marines. He brought Gilly along as well, but it was difficult for you to focus on anyone else besides Angel. The way he looked at you had you blushing, but you brushed it off as being in service for so long that any little glances from good looking men as himself would make you blush. Sure, you served with men in the Marines, but half of them were married, some were douches and some were nice. You just wanted to do your job and get back home safely. Interpersonal relationships always complicated things and in a battlefield it was needed, you learned the hard way.

You’ve been in Santo Padre for five years, and you didn’t imagine enjoying living in this ridiculously hot city, but you always found family in Coco, so you weren’t exactly surprised you chose to live in Santo Padre. Instead of moving up to Seattle where your blood relatives currently lived, you stayed in Santo Padre and set up a branch of your cousin’s tattoo shop there. Your cousin helped you set up four years ago and you’ve built up a clientele over the years. 

And for your Mayans, you made house calls or went to the clubhouse to do their tattoos. If you weren’t their chosen artist, you would send whoever their preferred artist was. 

Your clients were mostly Angel, Coco, Gilly and Bishop. The other Mayans had their preferences and you took no offense. They always took care of you, so you took care of them. You didn’t give a fuck what the assumption in town was. 

Sometimes, the prim and proper citizens were the worst.

You knew they were no angels, but you didn’t judge either. You’ve done your fair share of unforgivable sins, it was just part of the dog eat dog world you all lived in. 

Currently, you were at your office, watching Letty as she worked on some Algebra II homework. As a favor to your hermano, you took care of Letty till he could pick her up and if he couldn’t, she would stay with you. Celia has been gone for a few months now and you definitely saw the change in Letty. She was such a little shit when you first met her, but she was a good kid. 

“Good job, look at you, you are teachable.” You teased Letty, ruffling her hair. 

Letty laughed, flipping you off. “Your support means the world to me.” Letty wiped faked tears, making you laugh.

“God, you’re such a pain in the ass.” You chuckled as you shook your head. 

“But you love me.”

“I do, for some odd reason, I do.” You watched as she continued to do homework. Going back to your sketchbook, you were sketching a piece for Angel that you were going to place on yourself. You two had been dating for almost two years now. No matter how many times Coco warned you off, you two ended up dating. Coco didn’t even mind, when you told him you two were dating, Coco had only one thing to say.

‘No fucking at our house cause that’s just fucking weird.’

You currently lived with Coco and Letty since you never really saw a reason to move out and Coco didn’t want you to move out. So now, you have been living with Coco for five years and quite frankly, you wouldn’t want to change your living situation. 

It was having your own little family. Your older brother and niece, you smiled at the idea before focusing on your drawing again. 

Christmas was a month away and you wanted to surprise Angel for Christmas. It wasn’t much, but you knew he would appreciate it. 

“So, have you told him?” Letty broke you away from your sketch. 

“Told who, what?” You looked up at Letty who was smirking as she continued to do her math problems.

“Angel, have you told him you love him?” 

You rolled your eyes, releasing a sigh. You weren’t going to discuss your love life with a fucking teenager. But it was difficult, Letty was technically one of the few females you had around you. And to be quite honest, for a brat, she was wise, which she most likely obtained from her father. 

“I’m not going to discuss this with a teenager.” You threw a crumpled sketch paper at her, making Letty laugh.

“Come on, you don’t want to discuss it with your sobrina(niece)?” Letty’s smirk grew and you just laughed at her ridiculousness.

“There’s nothing to discuss. Angel is,” you sighed. “It’s complicated, half the time, I feel like Angel and I just have a casual relationship.” Which was the truth. Angel and you slept together often, much more often than you would like to admit, but it was hard to resist Angel. 

But you two never did anything together. Sure, you two hung around the clubhouse, your shop, but otherwise, he never took you out on a date or anything. You tried not to take offense since you knew how busy he was and the club had him doing odd hours. 

But at times, you just felt like you were a warm body he liked coming home to, or asking to come over when he was home.

He did ask you to be his girlfriend, and you two went on a few dates prior to you dating, but maybe once Angel landed you, he didn’t see why he should put forth effort. At the same time, whenever you two were together, you couldn’t even describe how much love you had for this guy. He always made you smile, he made your day better with his mere presence. 

God, you were more into him than he was into you. 

You were a part of a romantic comedy and Angel was the guy you dated before you met the one. 

This was comical.

Cause you were really hoping Angel was the one. 

“Why won’t you just talk to him?” Letty felt the answer was quite simple. Communication was key, which was something she was learning, no more running away. “Or you can dump him, you’re way out of Angel’s league anyway.”

“Stop, I’m not, I thought you like Angel.” 

“I do, but you know,” Letty shrugged. “You’re kind of the older sister I’ve always wanted and if he’s making you feel that way, he’s not worth it.”

“I’ll talk to him later and I’ll decide from there.” You smiled. “Aww, you’re so protective of me Leticia, I feel special.”

“Shut up.” Letty grumbled, but she smiled as well. “How hard is it to say I love you?”

“Can you say I love you?” You quirk an eyebrow at Letty, slightly challenging her. 

“Of course I can, I say it to you all the time.” Letty scoffed. “I love you. See was that so hard? Pretend I’m Angel.”

“No, absolutely not.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Come on, I know I’m not as tall and I don’t have that awful beard, but you can still pretend.” Letty offered.

“Leticia, I’m not going to pretend you’re my boyfriend.” You went back to sketching, feeling Letty’s eyes on you for a moment before she went back to her homework.

After a few minutes of silence, you broke it.

“Okay, but you are absolutely not allowed to use this against me.”

“Come on, of all the people here, you’re the one person I don’t collect blackmail material on.”

You laughed at Letty’s comment reminding you of Coco. He always teased you, but when push comes to shove, he was your go to, until Angel at least.

“I love you, Angel. If you don’t feel the same way, I get it. If you’re bored cause you already got me, I get it. But just let me know so I don’t fall for you any further.” You let out a sigh of relief, feeling good to say those words out loud. You heard sniffling and you placed your sketchbook down, making your way to Letty. “You okay?”

“Why would you make yourself so vulnerable like that?” Letty wiped her tears. 

“Letty, why are you crying?”

“I don’t know, this is your fault.”

You both laugh, hugging one another. 

Unbeknownst to you, Angel was outside your door, hearing the whole exchange. He arrived when Letty first asked if you had told him that you loved him. He wasn’t going to lie, hearing that made him smile like a fool. But hearing you say that confession about him being bored with you? That hurt him. 

How could you think that?

With everything going down with the club, he hasn’t been able to spend as much time as he wanted with you. Whenever he was done with whatever he was doing, he always called you up to make sure he could at least be with you when he had some free time even if it’s just to sleep with one another and occasionally fuck.

Alright, almost always fucked.

But he figured it was a good stress reliever for you both.

What he neglected to realize was that your mind could wander especially with previous relationships. He was such an idiot. 

He loves you too, more than he could express. 

Angel was going to do better. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you didn’t matter to him. You were the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. There was no other person he saw himself with. Maybe it was too early, but he didn’t care. He never comforted with social norms and he wasn’t going to start now.

Feelings were feelings and his feelings for you were intense.

He was going to talk to you tonight, then he’ll worship you as he always did.

“Did you order food? I’m starving.” He heard Letty question. 

“You’re so demanding, brat.” He smiled at that comment.

Angel figured he should make his presence known now. He knocked on your opened door. You and Letty looked up at the door and found Angel holding two bags from your favorite sandwich place a few shops away from your shop.

“Angel!” You really hoped Angel didn’t hear anything you had said. “Did you just get here?”

“Yeah baby, I just walked in. What’s up junior?” It was a nickname he fondly called Letty and she honestly didn’t mind. Making his way over to you, he dropped a quick kiss on your lips before placing the bags on your desk.

You were thankful your sketchbook was closed since you didn’t want Angel to see your present, if you two were still together then. 

“Nothing, is EZ here? I need help with Algebra.” Letty looked around, obviously EZ was not here. 

“You’re not gonna ask me? How do you know I’m not good at algebra?” Angel challenged.

“Are you?” Letty countered

“I actually am, junior.” 

You watched as Angel pulled up a chair right beside Letty and helped her with class. You hated how everyone assumed that Angel did not know anything simply due to the fact that EZ was the golden boy. But Angel was intelligent in his own right. 

Angel looked up at you, smiling as you ate your Philly cheesesteak sandwich. Realizing he loves you was definitely interesting, but was quite simple.

You had slept over his place for a whole week and he just did a relief run with the rebels. He came home and he found you on the couch sleeping with Tiger King playing in the background. He laughed as he turned off the television, squatting beside you as you slept. Taking you into his arms, he carried you into his room, placing you on the bed. He took a quick shower and joined you in bed once he was dressed. Having you in his home, waiting for him almost every night that week, he realized that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Coming home to you, being able to unwind and just spend his free time with you, that’s all he wanted. 

Have kids, late night adventures which you two did every once in a while, and just having you.

All he wanted was you.

It hit him then he loves you. And it just continued to grow from then.

“You want to go to the movies?” Angel asked you unexpectedly. 

Letty looked at you, shooting you a quick smirk before focusing back on her homework.

“Sure, what time did you want to go?”

“We can catch a late showing, I’ll buy the tickets.”

=============

You yawned, getting ready for bed. You were going to the movies with Angel, but they ended up having a late night run which you understood. Just as you were about to sleep, there was a knock on your door.

“Baby!” You heard Angel call out. 

Looking at the time, it was two in the morning. How did Angel even get in here? It was most likely Coco.

You opened your door and Angel almost fell on you, but he caught himself.

“There’s my baby girl!” He planted a kiss on your lips, wrapping his arms around you. He was so warm and he smelled and tasted like alcohol.

“Are you drunk?” You sniffed him once more. “Are you high?”

“Sorry, he insisted I brought him here.” EZ’s voice surprised you especially since Angel and EZ haven’t been talking for months.

“He talked to you?” You questioned.

“Yeah, believe me, I was surprised myself.” EZ was nursing a beer at the picnic table when Angel approached him, inebriated and talking about how much he fucking loved you.

EZ hated this rift between him and Angel. He understood why his older brother was pissed, but he just wished Angel would give him a chance to speak to him, so he could speak to him about what's been plaguing his mind regarding his discovery of their mother’s killer.

He was definitely surprised when Angel plopped down next to him, patting his brother’s thigh.

“You like Y/N?”

It took some time for EZ to reply, surprised that his brother was speaking to him.

“Yeah, of course I do.” EZ looked at his brother as he leaned against the table top of the picnic table, his elbows resting on the table.

“I love her man, I’m gonna marry her.” Angel proudly informed his brother, taking another swig of his beer. 

That much EZ knew. Angel looked at you like you held the world. If you told Angel that the sky was green, Angel would believe you no questions asked. Angel was very confident in your relationship and EZ could tell. While Angel still became jealous, it was more at the fact your attention was away from him, then he became upset. And there were times when newbies who didn’t know any better or some of your customers that push Angel that made the green-eyed monster come out.

He chuckled.

“Yeah?” The lightness of the conversation made it feel like things were back to normal and EZ knew it was far from that, but he would take this.

“I do. And you’re gonna be my best man.” Angel took another drink of his beer. “I’m still angry, but you’re my brother. She would want you there.”

EZ and Angel sat in silence then before Angel asked him to drop him off at your place that you shared with Coco. A few months ago, Coco had given him a spare key so that he could come to the house in case there was an emergency. 

This wasn’t exactly an emergency, but he fucking needed to see you.

So here he was now. He was holding you from behind, nipping on your ear, his hand moving under your shirt. You pulled your shirt down, trying to get Angel’s hand away from you. 

“Thanks for the ride little brother, I gotta go fuck my girl now.” He chuckled right beside your ear making chills run up and down your spine.

“Angel!” You and EZ both yell out.

You shook your head. “Thanks for giving him a ride.”

“Not a problem, I’ll see you later.” You followed EZ to the door after helping Angel to your bed. 

After locking the door, you made your way back in your room, locking your bedroom door behind you. 

Angel was already down to his boxers, laying in your bed. His eyes were closed so you figured he was asleep. As soon as the bed dipped, Angel sat up. He smirked at you, offering his hand, which you took. 

“You love me?” Angel questioned you as he sat you on his lap.

Drunk Angel was the best. He was so much needier than usual and he was so cuddly then. 

“What?” You didn’t want to tell him the L-word like this. But you weren’t going to say no either.

“You love me?” Angel nuzzled his face at the crook of your neck.

“I don’t know, you ditched me today.” You teased him, running your nails up and down his chest. 

“You love me?” Angel repeated again running his hands up and down your thighs. “You love me.” He nuzzled his face on your chest now, practically motorboating you. It wasn’t a question this time, it was a statement. “Te amo mucho, mi vida. You love me?”

The drunken slur made you giggle as he talked into your chest. 

But then his words sunk in.

“You love me?” You felt your heart swell, the butterflies in your stomach going insane.

“I fucking love you, you’re my world.” Angel sat up and pulled you down towards him, capturing your lips, sighing against your lips. “You love me? I heard you earlier. I love you.”

“I love you,” you saw how Angel’s eyes softened, kissing you once again. You didn’t think hearing those words could make your heart flutter just like how the movies described it, but fuck, this killed you. You felt your eyes welling up causing Angel to frown.

“Baby, why are you crying?” He wiped your tears as they fell. “I’m sorry you feel like I put you on the back burner or I’m tired of you, but I’m crazy about you.”

You wrapped your arms around him, Angel did the same thing. You two sat in silence, enjoying the silence and the confession you two just had. 

“You gonna let me eat that pussy?”

You laughed at his words. Pulling away, you shook your head. “Let’s sleep, once you wake up, then you can do that.”

Angel obliged. You both laid down, your head on his chest. You listened to his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. 

You woke up the next morning with Angel’s head in between your thighs. He brought you to a high twice. You were a wet, quivering mess as Angel kissed his way up your body.

“Morning mi dulce,” he kissed you, your taste on his lips. 

You felt his erection against your thigh, he was already bare. Slipping inside you, he kissed you as he buried himself to a hilt.

This was different. This wasn’t your usual sexual encounter where Angel couldn’t wait to be inside you, fucking you to oblivion, he was usually rough. 

This was much sweeter, slow and sensual.

“I can do this every morning.” Angel said against your lips, his body moving against yours. Angel wrapped your legs around his waist, stretching you further. His pace was slow, which you were usually not a fan of, but this was something else right now. The room was still slightly dark, but you could tell it was at least near six in the morning with the little bit of the outside you saw through your blinds. 

You realized then that Angel woke you up by eating you out, wondering if he remembered his drunken confession.

Angel placed his forehead against yours, placing a kiss on your lips every once in a while as he moved in and out of you. Your back arched, scratching his shoulders, meeting his thrust with the movement of your hips.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much.” 

Your heart swelled at his repeat confession. Fuck did that feel good to hear.

“You love me corazon? Huh?” He held himself with one arm and cupped your cheek, running his thumb against your bottom lip. “You love me?” The phrase was different when compared to last night. He has a playful undertone, his intoxication with alcohol obviously making Angel speak with repetitive playfulness regarding you loving him. 

It was a more weighted question today.

“Yes, I love you.” You breathed out, eyes locked on his.

He groaned, hearing you say it while he was sober hit differently. Angel could take his alcohol and remembered most of last night's events. Even his conversation with his baby brother.

“You’re the only one for me,” you tightened up around Angel, his words just turning you on even more. You were never into possessive wording when it came to yourself prior to Angel, but just to know he loves and cherish you as much as you did him, fuck it made you wet. “You like hearing that mami? That you’re the only one for me? I’m gonna put a ring on your finger one day, you want that?”

You couldn’t even process what the hell was going on. Angel was hitting you so deep, his words just making you inch closer to your climax. You could tell he was almost there as well, he sped up his pace, but his thrusts were not as rhythmic as before. You reached down and rubbed your clit, Angel’s eyes darkening as he watched you.

“Yeah querida, play with that clit, get yourself off.” 

You both reached your climax, each other’s names rolling off your tongues. Angel collapsed on top of you, your arms wrapping around him. Running your fingers through his hair, he sighed happily.

“I don’t want you ever thinking that I’ve had enough of you. You’re my world. Shit has just been,” he paused, finding the right words to say. He hasn’t disclosed much with you, but he would soon. After all, he had no plans of letting you go. “It’s just been crazy.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.” You quickly respond.

“But I do, I,” he sighed. “I overheard you yesterday when you were talking to Letty.” 

“Fuck,” you slightly laughed hoping it made you less embarrassed. “Angel, I don’t want you thinking that I’m clingy or something, it’s just if you’re bored, I get it.”

“How can you even think that, I could never get bored of you.” Angel slipped out of you then, a tiny moan escaping your lips. He sat up, his knees bent, his arms resting on his knees. “I’m not used to it, being in a relationship is new for me. I’ve been in relationships before, but it hasn’t been as intense as this. I may not be handling it as well as I want, but I do fucking love you and I want all of you, all the time.”

You sat up, wrapping an arm around his middle. You kissed the back of his shoulder and leaned your head against it. 

“I’m sorry, past relationships just fucked me up.” You both chuckled at your statement, as if it was some sort of agreement. “I love you Angel, the past two years has been the happiest I’ve been. With everything I’ve been through, I’m glad it led me to you.”

Angel has never had someone love him as much as you have that at times, it was a bit daunting for him. But he was done sabotaging relationships due to his insecurities and fears. He wasn’t willing to let you go and he was certain you weren’t going to let him go either.

For once, he felt secured. 

He found his person.

And it was you.

[brezchez]

~~~

Feelings

Logicality, High School AU 💙🖤

~~~

TW: None

Pairing(s): Logicality, background Prinxiety

Word Count: 2,016

Logan stared at Patton as he worked away with his math homework. He was biting the tip of his pencil, staring down at his book focused and concentrated. A few strands of his soft, caramel curls fell down in front of his slipping glasses and as he pushed them back up, Logan refrained from brushing them out of the way himself. He felt his face getting warmer and warmer the longer he stared at the boy opposite him and his heart skipped a beat when Patton tilted his head. Perhaps Virgil and Roman were right; was he able to feel emotions after all?

Finally realizing how long he had been staring for, Logan quickly snapped himself out his trance, readjusted his tie and glasses and resumed with the task at hand.....only to be distracted once again a few moments later. Patton's hand was outstretched on the table, just within in reaching distance for Logan to place his on it. It was dusted with freckles, just like his face and Logan so desperately wanted to hold it, but no. They were both meant to be doing work, and that was what he should have been focusing on. So, he would focus on that for now.

 

***

"Thanks for the study session again today Logan! And thank you so much for helping me with that last question, I really couldn't get my head around it!" Patton laughed as he packed his bag, getting ready to leave.

"You're most welcome Patton. Although I do have to inquire how you would be able to 'wrap your head around something'. Your head is not flexible enough to be able to move-" he was cut off by a delicate touch to his lips.

"Remember, Lo; it's just a figure of speech," Patton giggled. He found it adorable how literally Logan took things and although most found it aggravating, he didn't mind and personally found it hilarious.

"Oh, yeah. Right," Logan replied, unconsciously blushing furiously. Patton quickly lowered his finger from the two soft lines they were once planted on. Logan expected him to move, but he didn't and he instead stayed rooted to the spot, as he stared curiously into the mocha brown eyes walled by a pair Warby Parker glasses. He felt Patton's cornflower blue eyes glide along his face where they eventually rested on his lips. His gaze flickered between Logan's eyes and his lips and he began to lean in ever...so...slightly...

 

"Y-You should get going now. It's getting dark." Patton's eyes widened and his eyes followed Logan's finger which pointed to the window. As he turned away for a small moment, Logan scrunched up his face, annoyed at himself for interrupting what could have been the highlight of his evening, of his life.

"Yeah. I guess I should," he said, an underlying tone of sadness was masked behind his bubbly response, "See ya tomorrow Lo-Lo!"

"S-see you."

 

***

 

"God, what was I thinking?" Logan thought out loud, getting Roman and Virgil's attention. They were sitting next to each other in front of Logan and turned around when they heard his exasperated complain. He told them what happened the night before and of course their reactions were exactly what he predicted them to be.

'You idiot!' 'Why would you stop it?!' 'Are you crazy?' 'But you were so close!' were only some of the responses.

"I dunno Lo? What were you thinking? You had a golden opportunity right there. You could have started off something amazing, but no. You just had to ruin it, didn't ya bud?"

"Now, now, now Virge. That's only gonna make him feel worse. Can't you see he's already upset with himself enough as he is?" Roman slung his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and gestured to Logan. He was staring sadly at Patton, who was sitting a few desks away, doodling in his notebook. Virgil looked at his friend sympathetically and immediately regret what he had said.

"You're right. Sorry Logan."

Logan turned his head, nodded then smiled at Virgil, indicating that he accepted his apology before averting his gaze down to the desk.

"I want to be with him, I really do. But I just do not believe that I am able to provide him with everything he wants or needs. For starters, we're complete opposites. He's very emotional, and joyful and happy and jubilant, whereas I, on the other hand, feel nothing. Alexithymia is a figurative curse. And Patton deserves someone who is a better match to him. He deserves someone who can give him the world. That someone is clearly not me," he said, his voice stained with sorrow and sadness. Roman and Virgil looked at each other, their eyes full of pity for their closest friend. They all quickly glanced over to the boy Logan pined for, who didn't seem to notice them, and that's when Roman had had enough.

"Okay Logan. That's it," he said in a voice that was stern and loud, but quiet enough for only just the three of them to hear, "You say that you can't feel emotions, right?"

Logan was caught slightly off-guard by Roman's sudden outburst.

"W-well yes. I have told you this time and time aga-"

"Well, how do you feel when you're around Patton?"

"What?"

"How do you feel when you're around Patton?" Roman repeated. Logan stared at him for a moment, turned to Patton, and then back round to his friends.

"I....I don't know....I've never really...."

"Do you feel happy when you're around him?" Roman asked as he winked at Virgil, whose eyebrows were raised in confusion.

"Yes" Logan replied, slowly.

"Do you feel sad when you see him crying or down?"

"Yes"

"Do you feel scared when he is in danger or trouble?"

"Yes"

"Disgusted when other girls are hitting on him? Angry when people make him upset?"

"Well, y-yes I don't know what you're implying Roman."

Virgil, who had now caught onto what his boyfriend was doing, rolled his eyes and they both said in unison,

"You have feelings for him."

"What do you-" Logan's eyes widened in realisation. Virgil and Roman smiled at each other.

Roman cocked his eyebrow, "So? What you gonna do about it?"

 

***

Logan and Patton were studying with each other again but now Logan was unusually more nervous than he had ever been with Patton before. He twiddled his fingers and struggled not to stare at the boy opposite him.

"Hey Logan?" Patton asked, his eyes still directed at his paper, "Can you help me with this question please?"

Logan shuffled his chair over to Patton and took a look at the problem. It was a question about algebra - Patton's weakest point in math. Pointing to the paper with his pen, he explained the question and what techniques he could've used to solve it. He became so engrossed in his own conversation that he didn't notice Patton fixated on his face, paying no attention at all to what he was saying; he just listened to the velvety texture of his voice. As he finished the question, Logan raised his face, only to be met with Patton so ridiculously close to his. He felt his face heating up and leaned back quickly to stop any and all attempts he had to seize Patton's face and cover it with kisses.

"I-I'm sorry I should stop getting so up close to you. I really don't mean to. I can see that you're getting uncomfortable," Patton looked away and laughed awkwardly. Logan caught sight of this, and his heart ached at the thought that he made Patton uncomfortable, when it was in actual fact vice versa, but for good reason. He closed his books and picked up his bag.

"Thank you again for the study session Logan. I can see that I've been making you uneasy for the past few days when we do homework together. I really don't know what's come over me," he said in a quiet voice. Logan looked at him with sad eyes, fearing what he would say next.

"I........I understand if you...don't want to carry on with these anymore," Patton stood up from the table, "But I just want you to know that I loved doing this with you and that you are the best teacher I've ever had." He forced a smile then turned to walk away from the door.

Logan opened his mouth to say something, but no noise came out. He watched silently as Patton moved further away from him, seeing his last chance of happiness slipping through his fingers once again.

 

 

 

'So? What are you gonna do about it?'

 

The voice in his head yanked him forwards and he grabbed Patton's wrist, just as he was about to open the door. Patton reacted quickly to the contact, turning around, his eyes widened.

"I um..." Patton's eyebrows were raised in anticipation as Logan struggled to get his words out. He shook like a leaf and moved his grip from Patton's wrist to his hands, still staring at the ground in fear that if he looked into those blue marbles again, he'd get lost in its endless maze, and never find a way out.

It was now or never.

 

"Patton," Logan cleared his throat and his pulse started to quicken, "It has come to my attention, with the ever reluctant help of Roman and Virgil, that I um.....I have feelings...for.....you. Well, it was only implied by them. Frankly I don't know what these feelings are, and I never knew that I had any. Emotions are a.....complicated concept." He slowly lifted his gaze from off of the floor and raised his head. As soon as he met his gaze, their eyes were instantly locked and Logan softly gripped Patton's hand.

"But.....whenever we're apart I always have this unknown urge to be near you again. I constantly want to be by your side, and......even when we are together I don't feel like we are close enough."

Patton opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off by Logan; he hadn't finished and wanted to get everything out first before it all went down the figurative drain.

"And about what you said earlier: you could never make me uncomfortable and I apologize if I made you feel uneasy in any way. My responses to you, my stuttering, my nervousness, was all due to the fact that I, allegedly, had feelings for you. These moments with you, I cherish, because.....I love being with you. You make me feel.......emotions," Logan looked down and furrowed his eyebrows as he realized that what Roman and Virgil had said was in fact all true and he was.....

In love with Patton.

He looked back up and saw Patton, beaming at him. A few tears stained his cheeks, which made Logan worry.

"Patton? Are you okay? Why are you crying? Was it something I said?" He lifted his hand to his cheek to wipe away the tears. Patton held it as Logan stroked it softly.

"Yes. Yes it was something you said," he replied and Logan's expression became even more troubled. He widened his eyes as Patton rolled his, "But not in that way."

Patton swiftly placed one of his hands on Logan's cheek and the other on his tie and pulled them both simultaneously. Their lips connected and Logan's eyes widened in surprise, but soon closed as he sunk into the kiss, his hands finding their way to Patton's neck and waist. He felt him tug harder on his tie, pulling him deeper into the kiss, both his hands now around Patton's waist, and Patton's fingers tangled themselves in his chocolate locks. Patton eventually pulled away first and Logan couldn't help but feel a small sense of anger, sadness and lust as he reluctantly pulled away too. Patton released a relieved laugh, their foreheads touching and Logan smiled.

"Is this..." he began and Patton looked up at him, "Is this......love?" Logan stared innocently, like a puppy, into Patton's kind eyes.

Patton replied, "Yes, yes it is," and he eagerly pulled Logan back in for one more tender kiss.

[snowwhitelass]

New Outlander Game Coming – Talking with the Game Designers

By:  Erin Conrad, June 15, 2021

Gamers Corner, TV News

Outlander game, Sony, Starz Outlander, Variable Outcomes

Who wouldn’t want to dash around the Highlands with Jamie, trying to be his favorite, and rescuing him from trouble on the way? That definitely sounds like a fun time, even if all you can do is dream about it. Or IS that all you can do?

NO! Sometime this fall, a brand new board game will debut – Outlander The Series! Designed by the husband and wife team of Matthew and Ashley Killeen, the game will let you play with a bunch of your friends, meeting familiar faces along the way, and getting in and out of all kinds of scrapes. The game will be available for holiday shopping, so you can start to set up your Outlander game nights now. I had the opportunity to talk with Matthew and Ashley about the development of this new game, and learned some details.

From the game’s marketing information: “His fate is in your hands! Step through the stones of Craigh Na Dun and run through the Scottish Highlands with the handsome Jamie. The year is 1743, and the outlaw James Fraser is at your side as you navigate the thrills and dangers of the Highlands. Use your wit, reach the right locations, make the right friends, and gather the items you need, all while keeping Jamie out of the hands of the many who would do him wrong. The gallows await fair Jamie (or worse!) should you fail. Fulfill your destiny, and win his heart. Only then will victory be yours!”

Outlander is the Killeen’s first big franchise game. “From a business point of view, it’s something I always wanted to do,” Matthew said. “I enjoy games with an IP license attached, TV show or movie, and I have designed prototypes that might be good for Ghostbusters or Star Trek. I really wanted to get into that.” Ashley knew Matthew was interested in trying a licensed game, and said “I’ve been watching Outlander, you should make a game based on that.” Matthew hadn’t yet seen the show, so he said “you do it” – and she did.

Ashley didn’t get into the show until season three. “The first version (of the game) was based on the book, because I thought that might be the avenue to go. But it ended up being more layers to secure the book rights than TV. We heard back from Starz/Sony quickly, and the show and book were similar enough that I didn’t have to change too much from initial design. I swapped out characters and items that didn’t translate from one to another. Jamie still has same event encounters, the same enemies. It’s nice to look at both sides, to really put in all those little hidden tidbits from show. I’m hoping that fans of the show will enjoy all those subtle things that I’ve put in. But the other thing we wanted to make sure was that it was not dependent upon being familiar with the show, because the last thing you want is a game with Outlander masked on top of it that doesn’t play as anything on its own. And having a lot of friends who knew nothing about Outlander, how could I get them to the table?”

Matthew said, “One of philosophies for the board game stuff was that I’ve seen games that were maybe like a movie spin on top. Is this fun or exciting because of the game, or just because of the movie or tv show tie in? And one reason, the biggest reason why I got excited was when I first played it, I had never seen the show. I knew nothing about it. I had never seen the characters, and yet, I still enjoyed it. It was a good game.” Ashley added, “He has since seen the show.” Matthew continued, “That’s another thing that’s always bothered me. I feel like if a certain publisher or game designer makes something but doesn’t know the back story, that’s lazy. As soon as I found out we were going to do this, I watched the show. I know all my lore now. I was obviously able to play the game again once I knew the show and the lore, and it made the game play better.” “You understood my decisions,” said Ashley. “Exactly,” said Matthew. “Whether you know the show or not, it’s a good game.”

Ashley discussed their process: “I started December 2019. This past December, we were finally able to go forward. We got the contract from Sony in November. It was a long process! We got approvals for the design of the game, and access to the virtual library. We could figure out images that would go with the components we had.” Once they had that, Matthew figured out the graphic design for the game.

Was Sony/Starz helpful? Enthusiastic? Ashley said, “They were enthusiastic. They didn’t really have a board game. They had Destiny Dice, but that wasn’t the same thing.” (For my review of Destiny Dice, a game that came out a couple of years ago, click here.) I’ve had reservations about this previous game, so I asked how they overcame the failings of that one to make this new game. My concern with a platform like this is that the show is so big and layered – a group of women will come together over a glass of wine or three, and are they going to be able to figure it out easily enough to have a good time in an evening? Ashley feels that the new game will let us do that. “The idea behind this was that we wanted to bring everybody to the table – people whose board games lives consisted of Scrabble for their whole lives, and those who have played campaigning, like Mage Knights, epically, every week. We want to bring both those sets to the table. It should be intuitive enough once you’ve figured out the first turn order. It’s the repetition of that, it’s just your personal strategy that changes on what you choose to do, but the game play isn’t going to change on you as you go.”

She added, “But there’s enough in there that if you are an experienced board game player, you’re not sitting there bored waiting for the next thing to happen. That was our goal, as many people at the same table as possible enjoying it at the level they’re at. You can have the game player who knows nothing about Outlander, and you can have the Outlander fan who doesn’t play board games, and they will have a good evening. We also tried to be strategic about the length, because you don’t want to have just a tease of a game, because then you can’t be really invested and immersed in that world, but we also know, especially being parents now, you don’t have time to spend four hours on a game. That’s not going to happen any more. What’s a good length? If you can watch an episode of Outlander, you can play a round. So we wanted to find something that made sense. A lot of these pieces, once you apply a little logic to it, they fell together really nicely.”

This is the first “franchise” game the Killeens have designed. The fascination with board games started in 2004, and in 2011, Matthew began to design games as hobby. “I enjoyed playing, but in between then I was going to school and forgot about it. As school was winding down, I really got into it. I created an educational game called Witchful Thinking. We’re both teachers, and when doing practicum, the teacher (that he was working with) had kids doing games for math. but they were really boring, and the kids didn’t like it at all. I remembered I had a game that worked for this! I started looking at my business from a professional point of view, filling in gaps in the market. I wanted to bring people to a table they hadn’t been to yet. Witchful Thinking is a card game – witches brewing potions, teaching math – subtraction, addition, pre-algebra, and more advanced math. It was a great educational tool.” The company has more ideas – they have an upcoming Kickstarter for a game called Tennessee James, an Indiana Jones parody (learn more here). Matthew says that the company expects to bring out many more titles – “Between the two of us, we have a backlog of designs.”

When do they expect to have this out? Matthew said definitely for the Christmas season. “I am working with manufacturers right now, trying to iron out some of those details, but we’re going to be moving into manufacturing right now. It depends on how long it takes to do the mass production plus shipping, but I would estimate this would maybe in stores (or online retailers) by October. That’s probably a good estimate.”

Did they do a lot of testing? “We needed especially non-Outlander fans to play this game. The Outlander fans, it didn’t take a lot of convincing to get them to play,” said Matthew. “Even before there were pictures on the cards, they knew the board, they knew the characters. So even if you had a blank piece of paper that just said Murtagh on it, they know what it means. I wasn’t worried about the Outlander fans, and the game play is pretty intuitive, once you go through the steps. So once you’ve done a round, you can keep going around, no problem. So we were just like, ok, you don’t know what these names mean and where these places are, but you’ve got a bit of the information, are you on board? And so far the reaction has been, yes, I feel like I’m playing a game, even if they don’t know who Jamie is or anything like that.”

He continued, “The tall and short of it is that this that this has been play tested thoroughly. It’s not broken, and the most important part is that it’s fun.” Ashley added, “It’s a nice balance of cooperative, nobody wants Jamie to come to any harm, but you still want to be his favorite. So you can get a little catty, and that’s what makes the fun. You’ll be adding something a little stronger to your tea nights once you start playing that way.”

Matthew said, “One of my strategies for play testing is that I like to try different strategies each time and see what works and what doesn’t .Ashley laughed, “You played mean one time.” “Yeah, it’s my wife, I’ve got to play nice, right? But one time, I didn’t play nice, and I took a competitive edge, and it was awesome,” he said. So players, remember that!

“When I was working on Witchful Thinking, I was looking to put it into Walmart and Target. But they don’t want to talk to the independent company, they want to make sure they’re getting multiple products from the same distributors. So we want to make sure that the distributors that we get are also trying to get the game out there. I do have distribution in the US for Witchful Thinking, and they’re excited to take on this one.”

What was your favorite part of the game, as you play it, I asked? Ashley said, “I like the QuickSave. This is a component we have because Jamie is always going to move in a predictable pattern, and the three villains he’s trying to avoid – Black Jack Randall, the Redcoats and the Watch – those are all the Meeples that are going to be moving around. As you are collecting friends along the way, if you happen to be en route to an Encounter, you can use the special abilities from your friends. So maybe it’s Dougal who is going to be discarded, and that will be a Quicksave to put Jamie back in hiding, so the game’s not over, you haven’t captured him yet. I like that idea, the Quicksave. So you’re strategizing, not just for what’s going to give you a lot of Favor from Jamie to try to win his heart in the game, but where are these people going to help me if Jamie is in a pickle. Because he’s going to get himself in a lot of pickles.”

As he does on the show, I said! Ashley continued, “And as a designer, that’s a fun way for me to tie in the personality of the characters. There’s a reason why they have the values that they do. There was a little argument between us in the design phase, because I made Willie – Willie Mackenzie from the first season – he has this hidden kind of superpower that most of the time, he’s a bit weaker, but when the danger level’s up, he’s strong. Matt was criticizing that, ‘he’s a minor character, why is he so strong?’ But you haven’t been paying attention. Because when Jamie’s in Wentworth, it’s Willie who’s willing to go. So that’s his power, when things are toughest, he’s the one that can save the most. I was having fun finding those little nuggets, the lore, that fans love, and if you’re paying attention to how I’ve designed it, you’ll start seeing like why you get more Favor in some places, or more Wit, or why you have the saving abilities.”

The women playing will like seeing that, I agreed. “I think that we’ve got it so that your favorite characters, from S1 at least, this is just in the Highlands, you’re going to see them, I think they’ll do you proud,” Ashley says. “We’re still excited about it, even though it’s been a year and a half doing it, so I think that says something about it, that we can still be passionate about it, little choices like that, I think the game has life.” Ashley told me that she has ideas for additional Outlander games to follow each season, so this may go on for quite a while!

As their cute kids came into the room, I asked if game design was full time, or is this an extra job? Ashley said, “I’m a full time teacher, so I’m squeezing this in between the report card writing and the classroom stuff. With a bunch of changes with Covid, it’s made more sense for Matthew to stay home, so we decided to go all in, make this run for itself.” Matthew said, “I can speak from the graphic design standpoint – I didn’t design the gameplay, Ashley did that, but I offered suggestions here and there, it was her decision on things, and she made some great decisions. And between that, I did the playtesting and the graphic design in January and early February, I’ve put in hundreds of hours, not just with the graphic design, but also the business stuff too, figuring out social media posts, getting things approved by Sony, talking with the distributors. So this has been not just like a full time job, but overtime, I’ve put in some serious hours for this.”

Since this is the company’s first big license, I asked if is this something they want to continue. “Absolutely,” Matthew said. “And I knew that when I turned this into a hobby back in 2011. I enjoy making board games. I enjoying making movies, watching movies, reading books, all that stuff. I needed some sort of creative outlet. And this was it. I enjoy tabletop games, so I found a business that I’m passionate about. But I found over the years, since I am a small business, I had to learn everything. I can do the game design, I can do the graphic design, the IP stuff, social media, the PR, distribution. I have all those experiences, so if I can continue this, I’ll be very happy.”

Price point for the game should be $48.99 CA (US equivalent is about $40). And it will be available in the US, and more – Matthew says, “The territories we have with Sony are Canada, USA, UK, Australia and France. We’re a small family run company, but at the same time, this is a big license. So we want to do the fans proud, we want to do this IP proud, so we want to give the biggest reach that we can.” Ashley said, “We’re limited because we’re not the distributors, so once we put it in those hands, it’s really up to those stores that want to put it on their shelves. So until we know where they’re placing it, I can’t tell you ‘oh, pick it up here.’ ” Matthew agreed. “I have experience with all of that, so when I made Witchful Thinking and released that, I had a hard time getting distribution. So I went store to store, city to city, and I made those contacts myself. For me as a business owner, I’m not just one of those owners who throws money out and does it. I have experience in all these aspects. So when this game comes out, let’s say that distribution doesn’t have as far of a reach as possible, I’ll make it happen. With Covid especially, the online market is important.”

“From a business standpoint, we’re a new company,” Matthew said. “It seems that we’re very new to this but that’s not really the case. This game has been been in development for a long time, and between the two of us we have 20+ games in prototypes. So we definitely know how to make games, and make games fun. And the fact that we’re both teachers, I think makes it even better. Because as teachers, we have to know how to sell to an audience.” ” And explain the games,” Ashley added.

PRE-ORDER THE GAME RIGHT HERE! Three if by Space has the game available for pre-orders in our Collectibles shop!! Click here to go to the pre-order page!

[bigoltrashpile]

Seeing how requests are still open, may I ask for a Popular ! Lucky with a nerdy! s/o? That troupe is my guilty pleasure- -lucky anon

“I do love this idea

For those of you who weren’t around, we went through a phase on this blog where we had a middle school/high school au where we’re all sitting at a table trying to get the skeletons’ attention, it was fun

You tried your best to subtly peek over the top of your book.  Oh good, he was still browsing the shelves of your school library.  As soon as he had walked in, you had turned bright red.  He didn’t even have to look at you, and still your hopeless crush made you flustered just by being in the same room!  Even if he was on the completely opposite side.

Suddenly, Lucky turned around, probably to look at a different section, and for a moment your eyes met.  You snapped your eyes back to the page, face somehow even warmer than it had been before.  Stars, those handsome baby blue eyelights made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy!

After a long few moments of staring at the page and not absorbing anything (wait, were you holding your book upside down?), you dared to glance up.  This time, Lucky was looking right at you.  Your mouth dropped open slightly, and he chuckled.  You couldn’t hear it, but you saw his shoulders bounce slightly.  Before you could look away again, he gave you a smirk and a wink.

You squeaked loudly and quickly covered your face with the book.  Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, he looked at you!  On purpose!!!  And WINKED!!!!!  Stars, you hadn’t even thought that he would ever notice you, but he WINKED!!  At YOU!!!!!

You were so glad you were hiding in your corner where nobody ever (usually) looked.  You weren’t sure what you would do if you had other people staring!

Suddenly, you heard soft footsteps coming towards you, the carpet dampening the sound.  Nervously, you glanced up, only for your eyes to go wide.  Lucky was walking OVER TO YOU!

He sat down across the table from you and smiled.  “Hello There,” he whispered, giving you another wink.  Fuck, there go the butterflies again.  “Looks Like I’ve Got An Admirer~”

You squeaked and tried to hide behind your book again.  “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad, I’m sorry!” you apologized for no reason.

“Don’t Be Sorry!” Lucky whispered quickly.  “I’m Not Angry!”

“Y-you’re not?” you stammered, looking up.  “But...I was being creepy!”

“No Creepier Than Me!”  At your confused look, a slight blue blush spread across his face.  “I-I Mean...Um...We Have Math Together...”  You knew, you always got distracted by him.  He was so good at algebra.  “A-And, Uh...I May Or May Not Have Been...Watching You?”  He winced.  “Wow, That Sounded Much Creepier Than I Thought.  I Meant That...” he sighed.  “There’s No Way To Not Sound Creepy, Stars.”

“No!” you interrupted.  “I know what you mean!”  You fiddled with your hands awkwardly, finally setting your book, the best barrier you had, to the side.  “Do...do you...like me?”

“Yes!  Stars, That Would Have Sounded Much Better,” Lucky cursed himself.  “Sorry, I’m Not Usually This Awkward.”

“Its okay, but,” you looked away again.  “This isn’t a joke, is it?”

Lucky looked almost offended.  “A Joke???  Of Course Not!  I Would Never!  I May Be A Monster, But I’m Not A Monster!”

You laughed a little at the phrase.  “I guess you’re right.  I’m sorry, I just never expected someone like you to like someone...”  Nerdy?  Weird?  Lame?  “Like me.”

“Are You Kidding??  I’ve Liked You For So Long Now!  In Fact,” that cute blush spread across his face again.  “That’s The Reason I Came To The Library.  So I Could See You.”

“Oh my goodness,” you beamed.  “That’s really cute!  Lucky, you’re adorable!”

“What???  No I’m Not, I’m Sexy!” he pouted jokingly.  “And Handsome!”

“Well yeah, and adorable,” you giggled.  “I really can’t believe this!”

“Well, Hopefully You Can Believe It A Bit Later,” Lucky shrugged.  “When I Take You Out For Ice Cream?”

“....Like a date?” you asked shyly.

“Exactly Like A Date!”

“Well then, yeah!  Let’s do it!” you beamed.

Lucky looked almost relieved.  “Great!  I’ll See You After School.”  He gave you one more wink before standing up and leaving the library.

As soon as he was gone, you buried your face in your hands and squealed.  If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up!