#class 12 computer science chapter 1 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tundrainafrica · 5 years ago

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Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (3/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: This has been sitting on my computer untouched for a while, along with the timeline I prepared for a multichapter fic. Will probs go back to it soon. Feedback is very much appreciated.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Link to cross-postings: AO3

The forms were so painfully boring, Levi almost regretted agreeing to meet Moblit. One of the few things, if not the only thing, stopping him from backing out of the study then and there, was the hope it could give him an excuse to see her again. He planned to ease himself into the process of meeting her, not wanting to make a complete fool or a complete stalker of himself.

There was the option to ask for her number. The option to ask for her schedule. Or he could maybe just scan through enough pages on google to find some hint as to what the hell she does, where she goes and where he could possibly “accidentally” meet her. The last option had proved ineffective, Levi spent a good few hours a day doing just that. Just in case maybe, the links he found through google do change.

The sheer embarrassment and conflicted feelings that came with having delusion drive his actions, had Levi worse off than before. Although the nightmares that left him in pain in the mornings had become few and far between, he could not help but think that possibly the reason why was because he barely got any sleep anymore, kept awake by his brain trying to process that relationship he had with Hange and the story that was made known to him.

His five hours a night had dwindled into three when classes started. His brain having no time to process the dreams during classes and training, Levi found himself taking up more time lying awake in bed, building the world his dreams were telling him about and how Hange fit into all of it.

The lack of sleep caught up to him particularly when he was sifting through the pages of waivers and information sheets in the coffee shop near campus at nine in the morning. The words started to blur into blobs and Levi became aware of how much he hated Calibri as a font, a small issue in the grand scheme of things. Lacking sleep and utterly frustrated at his lack of progress though, Levi was finding many reasons not to read them.

He eventually gave up, instead checking box after box after box. “When do you need this?” Levi asked Moblit who sat in front of him.

“As soon as possible… But I really recommend you read ---”

“Well, how much time are you gonna give me to read?”

“I don’t have any classes today so I’m pretty much free the whole day.”

“Same.” He felt the venom in his tone particularly resonate and a part of him regretted it as he said it. That day was particularly special. He had no class. With their coach out on a meeting with other schools to discuss the tournaments and line ups this year, he had given the players a day off. Levi pretty much had that whole day to himself yet, he still went to the trouble of dressing up just to meet Moblit only to find out he’d be going through pages worth of documents while half awake. “I’ll just get a cup of coffee.”

Levi was already halfway out of seat when Moblit took out his wallet.

“Let me pay for it.” Moblit handed Levi a few bills. He had an apologetic look on his face as if he did understand the inconvenience the study would cause anyone. The look Moblit gave him suddenly made Levi self conscious about the tone he had been answering Moblit with since a while ago.

Levi took the money with a small nod of thanks. It was free coffee after all and he did not have much leeway given his monthly allowance.

When Levi got back to their table black coffee in one hand, he could see that Moblit had reorganized the papers, the uncompleted page sitting neatly on top. He had also opened the sandwich he had bought half an hour ago and was eating it already

“Before I forget, did you bring Hange’s keychain?” Moblit asked in between bites.

“Ah, I forgot about that.” Levi kept his tone emotionless for fear of having his guilt take over him. In fact, he never did forget about the keychain. It sat on the side table next to his bed, a glimmer of hope that that morning in the track wouldn't be the last time he saw her.

“Maybe I could come back to your dorm with you and get it after this?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot. I’m not going straight to the dorm. I have plans after this.” A blatant lie. Levi rarely forgot plans.

“Really?”

Levi made a show of going through his phone as he sat down. “Sorry, I didn’t check my calendar this morning. It looks like I have to work on my own stuff for my thesis with my groupmates.” Seniors did not have as many classes as lowerclassmen so the excuse for classes probably would not have worked. As Levi also was aware, the weight of the responsibility lost by only having two classes a week was replaced with the weight of the expectation of creating their own research to add to the body of knowledge in their major.

“How long is your meeting? Maybe I could stop by...” Moblit looked unsure about his own suggestion as if he too understood too the importance of thesis for any senior.

“I dunno. It’s our first meeting and it’s pretty important since we still don’t have much planned.” At that moment, Levi thanked the heavens for his course. He was taking an interdisciplinary track so people had the option to do their thesis by group or individually. His choice of his classes had made it so that he had to do his thesis individually. Moblit did not need to know that much though.

The magic word “thesis” eventually did work in the conversation between the two seniors and finally, Moblit had dropped his shoulders in defeat. “Sorry if I’m being a little pushy. I guess that keychain is just pretty important to me too. I was the one who gave it to her.”

Levi studied the face of Moblit as they talked. Molit did not have the most memorable face so Levi had not figured it out at first glance. As he allowed himself a few seconds to focus on his features and match it to those in his dream, he realized that Moblit was the same soldier who was constantly following Hange in his dreams. “You two must be close,” Levi said. Hange and I were close too.

"We're childhood friends.”

Levi found himself envying Moblit’s place in Hange’s life. Not wanting to engage that thought though, he instead decided to digress into something more positive for him. “So you'd know why she seemed pretty enthusiastic about her thesis.”

“She’s just passionate and gets a little too excited at times.” Moblit gave an embarrassed smile from what could have been second hand embarrassment. “I really hope you didn’t end up hating her. She really wanted to get to know you.”

“Oh really?” Then why doesn’t she. Levi added to himself.

“She’s been studying athletes since we were in high school. One of our friends was actually the subject of our final thesis for high school and Hange won best research with her. She wanted to move on to studying more high level athletes and she was talking non stop about the possibility of working with an athlete here. Then when we were scouting around for athletes to possibly study, she started showing me a lot of videos of you. She could talk non stop about your form, the height you achieved, your body control. I guess that was until you guys ended up meeting...” Moblit looked like he was aware of the weight of that statement and had tried to lighten the mood with a light laugh.

Levi rearranged that last sentence in his head. Until she met me.

Moblit had trailed off from there and Levi wondered how what kind of face he was making for Moblit to realize he had felt guilty about it.

Moblit gave Levi a consoling look. “She seems to be progressing well with Elijah though.”

For a second, Levi could not fathom how Moblit got the idea that that sentence could console him. In fact, just knowing that Hange had gotten over him so fast, had his chest knotting up.

On the outside though, he made sure to raise his eyebrows and nod, to look at least a little surprised and interested. “How’s her research so far?”

Moblit shook his head in amazement. “She's working at a much faster pace than I am. After what happened with you, it’s pretty admirable she bounced back so fast.”

“I don’t hate her. I could work with her if she really wants to.”

“God, this makes me think I should have started earlier." Moblit rested his forehead on his palm. "Your suggestion might be hard... Last time I checked, she was neck deep in her research with Elijah already.”

Even as a senior, there were places on campus Levi had never visited. All of his classes were clustered in one small area of the campus. The track he would rush to train in would be just a five minute walk away, his dorm a fifteen minute walk or a five minute bike.

He never had any reason to visit the other side which housed the science students and the laboratories. Possibly, one of the reasons why he had never met Hange until that day in the track.

It was a ten minute walk from his dormitory, in a completely different direction from his buildings and the track. He decided to abandon his bike for the more flexible option of walking. He did not know if they had have any place to park a bike nor how long he would be there. More importantly, he wanted the freedom of slowing his pace without considering the traffic as he took in the unfamiliar scenery.

Third floor. Fritz Hall.

In fact, he did not need the directions to the biology department. He could have easily asked anyone among the students there. The more important information was the room number and the laboratory name.

He clutched the keychain in his pocket and took the stairs two at a time arriving into a narrow corridor that stretched into both directions.

Thesis labs. Or that was how Mobilit described them. Each biology professor managed a laboratory for students. There were those who focused on internal medicine, those who focused on epidemiology. In each of those rooms was an office and a lab for senior students doing research under the guidance of a professor of a similar specialty.

If he wanted to find Hange, the office was their best chance. Room 301. It would be at one of the ends of the corridors. He only had to figure out the order of the numbers and from there, walk towards the end of the hall. He gripped the handle of the door and pushed it down, only pushing slightly at the door to open a crack wide enough to peek in.

“May I help you?”

“You’re Erwin Smith…” Just like with Hange, Levi had quickly picked up the name as he saw him.

“Yes I am. Nice to meet you.” Erwin did not look surprised to see that someone had named him by face. That was enough of a hint for Levi to realize that that man was probably their professor on top of how he dressed and how he carried himself.

“I’m looking for Hange Zoe.” Levi decided at that moment not to lie. He was sure he could find a reason to justify wanting to give it directly to Hange. He did not want to consider it at that moment. He just wanted to see her.

“She has class now but you can wait for her inside the lab." He gave Levi a onceover. You must be Elijah then.”

Levi gave a subtle nod, hoping Erwin would at least not take that as a full yes later on. At that point in time, he just wanted to minimize the questions he might need to answer. HIs heart was beating hard and his mind was racing. He had gone behind Moblit’s back, taking note of the schedule shared to him and picking a time where Moblit would not be in the office. Pretense and lies were nothing new to Levi but the presence of Erwin in the room particularly made Levi feel dirty for going through all that just to meet one person. With Erwin in front of him, for the first time he felt guilty lying.

"It's obvious from your build that you've been jumping and running your whole life. I hope you could give Hange some good data. All she’s been talking about was this study since I agreed to take her in."

“What’s her research about?” Was she enjoying working with Elijah so far? Was she happy? There were too many things Levi had wanted to ask but he found himself treading along the narrow path of things only Elijah would have known.

Erwin looked at him questioningly. “She wants to do a case study. I expected she’d at least tell you that much.” He shook his head and smiled. “She always had trouble explaining science jargon to the average person.”

Levi wanted to kick himself. Erwin at least answered his own question on any suspicion he might have about Levi (or Elijah.)

“Elijah, do me a favor and ask her yourself. I’d rather Hange also learned how to communicate science to the average person.” Erwin tapped Levi on the shoulder. “Make yourself at home. NIfa’s in the laboratory right now so she can keep you company. You can also use the computer while waiting.”

Levi only noticed the book bag Erwin was holding to his side as he looked back at him. He could not help but feel a bout of disappointment as he saw the professor walk away. It felt like there was still a lot to learn from him.

Levi entered the laboratory to find a woman with auburn hair hunched over a microscope. “Where’s Erwin going?” He asked.

“Erwin?” Nifa looked up from her “Doctor Smith you mean?”

Nifa. That’s her name. Oddly, Levi did not need to ask for her name either.

Nifa only confirmed it a second later after chastising him for calling Erwin his first name. ‘Doctor Smith did not roll out of Levi’s tongue as well as Erwin. The most Levi could hope for was he never faced a situation where he had to call him by name again. A long shot if he ended up working with Hange or Moblit. At the same time, a worry he did not want to occupy himself with again.

“Hange’s class ends at two so you’re gonna have to wait an extra thirty minutes. You can use the computer over there to pass the time.”

Levi looked down at his phone to see only one bar on the upper right.

“Yeah, problems about being stationed at the corner of the building. No signal. And the wifi is only strong enough for a laptop.” Nifa gestured at her own laptop next to the microscope.

Levi walked towards the computer. It was an older model but it looked well loved. He only had to click on his mouse for the screen to boot up to the home screen with some desktop background which looked like some campaign for underprivileged kids and untapped potentials.

He clicked on the google chrome icon. The option to restore pages from a previous session popped up. He had considered completely ignoring it but he considered it might be someone’s precious browsing history and instead decided to leave it on and to just open an incognito instead for his own personal browsing

He was ready to open one up when he saw the tabs that had opened up in front of him.

Ackerman bags gold, Miller silver in the Collegiate Cup.

Levi looked to the profile on the right to see that it was Hange’s Google profile logged into the account. She was researching him?

That small glimmer of what could have been happiness dissipated as soon as Levi figured out the pattern of the articles.

It wasn’t about him.

High Jump Superstar Miller breaks record in high school meet.

Miller commits to Paradis University.

College sophomore Miller bags gold in Horizontal Jump Event.

It was torture looking through the multiple tabs that reopened. As painful as it was, he still wanted to confirm if Hange really was ‘neck deep’ in her research. The bookmarked pages, he also decided to take a peek at had confirmed his fear. There were fifty if not a hundred tabs with article titles mentioning that one athlete.

Levi found himself closing the tabs as he went through them, a small rebellion to the reality in front of him. Hange probably bookmarked them if she needed them anyway. He stopped as he came across a Youtube video towards the end of the string of tabs.

WATCH: College Junior Ackerman beats both personal and national record for the High Jump Category.

Rookie Ackerman bags gold in the Regional Cup with record breaking height.

Levi recognized those tournaments. Those were his best jumps, one of them the most recent one he had performed, only earlier that year.

Watching the videos with the commentary felt surreal. In the interviews, he was the one answering the questions but somehow, Levi felt like he was still learning something new from the version of himself of the screen. He never did pay too much attention during interviews, only asking the questions when asked in the manner Coach Greg had directed him too.

Not wanting to confuse himself any longer with what seemed like another out of body experience, he focused again on Hange’s Gmail account which was logged into Youtube. Just to make sure his conclusion had been real. She was still watching his videos.

She had committed to working with Elijah. Why?

“Miller was slated to be the new superstar in Paradis University with a vertical jump of 8 centimeters and a promising record height differential of 40 centimeters.”

Levi jumped as he heard someone talk behind him. How long has she been there? It was her voice. Yet at the same time, it was too uncharacteristically serious he did not want to believe it was her. As Levi slowly looked behind me, she only continued to talk.

“But then four years ago, Coach Gregory Rivers scouts a new kid from a small town five hours away from the city. The kid had potential. Enough potential to maybe play backup to Elijah Miller. Levi Ackerman with a vertical leap of 76 centimeters and a record height differential of 37 centimeters.”

“Elijah Miller had a higher overall record. Mike Zacharias and Nanaba Briete too." Mike Zacharias and Nanaba Briete . Those were the two athletes who had cooperated with Hange's study back in high school. Levi had made sure to read her old research, in case he would have to use them to convince her to reconsider him.

“Your numbers in high school weren’t groundbreaking. Unless we consider that you’re 157 centimeters tall." The wonder was back in her voice, completely replacing what he realized was the scientist in her talking. "You did not have the height but you had remarkable control, the core strength, the leg power and the flexibility to fly over the bar even when you’re so close to it. That was what Gregory Rivers saw in you when he scouted you for Paradis University. What he didn't expect was for you to outshine Miller or even the seniors."

Hange came up behind him and grabbed the mouse. As Levi watched her go through the bookmarks, he realized if he had scrolled further, he would have seen more bookmarks.

Rookie Ackerman bags gold in the Regional Cup.

Super rookie carries Paradis to nationals.

She clicked one of the bookmarks and played the the video that came up. Levi could only watch silently as the Levi on the screen ran towards the bar, and propelled himself through the air. His vertical was definitely much higher than 37 centimeters at that point. In college though, no one in his team was counting anymore. The importance was he got through every jump without ever touching the bar.

"I wanna know Levi. From a nobody from a no name school, how did your height differential increase twofold. More importantly, how is it that you've not failed a single jump since you entered university? It's amazing. The amount of balance, core strength and body control to keep your body flexible enough not to hit the bar. The amount of leg strength needed to jump that high. You really must be superhuman.”

“I’m not.” Regretfully, Levi’s denial was enough for Hange to snap out of her state of what seemed like euphoria.

Hange put her hand to her mouth. "Sorry, I talked too much." With that, she resisted the closeness and was once again a meter away just standing awkwardly behind him. "I guess I should go back to work. Did Moblit tell you what time he'll be coming?"

"Moblit's not coming today."

"Oh... Can I help you with something?" Once again, Hange was watching her words and her movements with him. That was not the Hange from his dreams. The Hange that had introduced herself the first time they had met on the track. It pained Levi to see her like that and he wanted to make it right.

Levi had prepared himself for possible interactions when he read through Hange's old works. At that moment, Levi took control of his feelings. " I came here because I wanted to ask if you'd be willing to consider." He kept his words as careful as Hange's were with him. "I read your case study on Nanaba Briete and Mike Zacharius. And I thought I could probably provide you with similar data, maybe better data. Let me jump for you."

"Levi…"

"No. I wanna jump for you." Levi did not know what Hange had planned to say. At that point, he did not want to give her any doubts to build on.

This time I'm not going to lose you. A voice inside him said. It disappeared soon after and Levi wondered when he had he lost her.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levi x hanji #fanfic

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alkae · 5 years ago

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They Were Roommates

Chapter Three

“How’s the roomie, V?”

A week or so had passed. To Varian’s delight, Hugo had not stumbled in drunk once or had thrown up on their carpet again. To Hugo’s delight, Varian had been going to bed at 12:30ish and had started waking up on time, thanks to Hugo actually. Although Hugo’s wake up method (throwing a pillow at Varian and screaming “WAKE UP SLEEPING BEAUTY, THE ROOM’S ON FIRE) was a little extreme, Varian couldn’t help but feel a little grateful.

He was still annoyed about the first time this happened. He had woken up in a panic and tried to leave the room while half asleep and ended up slamming into the door. He’d gotten a bloody nose and Hugo couldn’t stop laughing.

Even still… even still…

“He’s annoying,” Varian grumbled. He was in the library studying for computer science with his friend Nuru. Nuru was studying to be an astronomy major and both needed to take the class. In fact, that’s how they met. She was a happy, energetic girl with warm brown skin, short curly black hair and gold eyes. She always wore something purple with something spacey on it, more often than not decorated with stars.

Today she had on a purple ombre shirt with long baggy sleeves and a golden crescent moon in the middle of it with white stars surrounding it and smaller white stars decorating the rest of the shirt. As always there was a giant yellow star barrette in her hair that Varian had never seen her without.

She was staring at him with interest. He had never seen her actually study anything but her astronomy homework. He vaguely wondered how she was even going to pass college if she refused to actually look at the course work. “How is he annoying?”

Varian scribbled something in his notes. “He constantly flirts with me and calls me ‘shrimpy’ even though I’m not even that short, don’t you dare say a word, Nuru.” Nuru’s face was contorted, as if she was going to say something but she clapped a hand over her mouth. Varian glared at her for a second before returning to his notes. “He’s a total neatfreak, which is weird considering he hasn’t washed his jacket in the past week. He snores so much and he’s always hungry and he drags me to the cafe everyday for lunch and he gets really pissy at me when I go without him.”

He heard Nuru snicker and he glared up at her again. “What?” he demanded.

“Oh nothing,” she said in a tone that definitely meant something. “It’s just… you’re talking about him like you’re an old married couple.”

Varian dropped his pencil in shock. “What? Nuru!”

Nuru cackled loudly and the librarian shot her a dirty look. She quickly zipped her mouth shut and lowered her head. “From what you’ve told me, he doesn’t seem that bad. All your complaints are pretty minor in the grand scheme of things.”

“How would you know?”

To his surprise, she grimaced. “My old roommate was the absolute worst. She was a complete slob, she came in drunk one night and threw up on my bed and me and once-” Nuru cut off to shudder. “I caught her using my toothbrush… to clean the toilet.”

Varian’s face contorted to that of sympathy and disgust. “Nuru I am so sorry.”

She shrugged. “I filed a complaint and asked for a new roommate and they actually gave me one. She’s chill, responsible and cute, so it’s a win for me.”

Varian felt himself start to smile again and he quickly looked back at his notes. “You got lucky, Nuru. I’m stuck with Ponytail McCoy.”

Nuru giggled. “Varian, you’ve known McCoy for a week. That’s hardly enough time to form an opinion about him.” Varian opened his mouth to argue but she stopped him. “Why don’t you hang out with him a little more? It’s always good to spend time with your roommate.”

Varian’s expression soured. “Are you trying to set us up, Nuru?”

She just laughed and pulled out her phone. “For my sake and yours, talk to the damn boy. If he turns out to be a serial killer, you can blame me.”

“How comforting,” Varian deadpanned. Nuru snorted.

~~~

It was 11:20 something and Hugo still wasn’t back from… wherever he went after he pestered Varian to have dinner with him. Varian was sitting at his desk slaving over his calculus homework, mindlessly chewing at his eraser.

In his mind, he hung out with Hugo plenty. The two ate together twice and they shared a room. How much closer did Nuru want from him?

Hang out with Hugo. It felt like she’d given him a court sentencing.

The door clicked open and 5 feet and 10 inches of trouble staggered in, backpack on. Speak of the devil. Varian didn’t even glance up from his homework. “You’re late.”

He could sense Hugo rolling his eyes at him. There was a thump behind him. No doubt Hugo throwing off his backpack. “Sorry, dear.”

Varian ignored him. Hugo started shuffling around in the background. There were a few more softer thuds and then a zipper being undone. Varian continued working. He only had 2 more problems left and then he could finally start on his chemistry paper that was due next week. He scribbled down the answer to a problem before freezing. It was much too quiet for his liking. Holding his breath, he turned around to see Hugo clutching his physics textbook and notebook to his chest, a pencil tucked behind his ear.

“What is it?” Varian asked.

Hugo coughed into his fist. “I uh, well. Heh. This is embarrassing but can you help me?”

“You need to be more specific, Hugo. You need help on a lot of things.”

Hugo scowled. “Cut it out, Hairstripe, I’m serious.” He sauntered over to Varian and slammed his textbook over Varian’s homework. Varian stared up at him in confusion. “I don’t understand a thing in this lesson and you seem smart so I figured I’d ask you.”

Varian blinked at him. He had finished his physics homework first right after dinner and hadn’t even thought about it in the hours that had passed. He glanced back at his homework and then back up at Hugo. A part of him, a selfish part of him, wanted to decline simply on the merit that it’s Hugo McCoy asking for help. But the logical part of him slapped the selfish half. Varian sighed and twisted around in his chair to fully face Hugo.

“Show me exactly what you don’t understand,” he said.

Hugo grinned so bright that Varian had to squint. “You’ll help? Really?”

“If you don’t tell me what you don’t get, then I won’t.”

“Okay, okay!” Hugo leaned over Varian as he swiveled back around. He reached for his physics textbook and opened it to the first chapter.

“Point out the problem,” Varian said.

Hugo vaguely gestured to the entire two-page spread. Varian put his head in his hands and sighed loudly. “You need help with the entire chapter?”

“Well, actually, I’m not sure how to do this uh problem. And I mean the first pages describe it so I guess I kind of need help with the entire chapter so…” Hugo trailed off and Varian lifted his head.

“Show me it.”

Hugo leaned further over Varian and Varian tried to ignore his hot breath on his neck. He flipped to the next page and pointed out the problem. “See, I kind of understand it but I don’t know how to set it up.”

Varian turned his head and nearly reeled back when he saw how close their heads were. He cleared his throat and leaned away. “Well, here. Hand me your notebook.” Hugo did and Varian opened it to a blank page and picked up his pencil. He started to write out the problem. “So you’re trying to transfer meters per second to kilometers per hour, right?” He didn’t wait for Hugo to answer and instead plowed forward. “So what you want to do is figure out how many seconds are in an hour and then how many meters are in a kilometer.”

Hugo twisted his heads towards Varian in surprise. “That’s it?”

“Well, you have to do the math too. So you’d put 1 meter over 1 second-” Hugo’s eyes followed his hand as he wrote- “times 3600 seconds over 1 hour-” He felt them burrow into him and his face grew hot- “time 1 kilometer over 1000 meters.” Hugo’s chin was practically resting on his shoulder. Varian kept his head down out of fear that it was completely red. “Can you do the rest?”

He didn’t see Hugo respond but he must’ve because a few seconds later, he heard him say, “3.6 kilometers per hour.” Hugo sounded so proud of himself that Varian couldn’t help but smile.

“Did you do that in your head?” Varian teased. He risked a glance over and saw Hugo standing behind him. A slight pang of disappointment coiled in his stomach. He brushed it aside.

“Phone calculator.” Varian noticed immediately that Hugo was back to his old smirking self.

Varian twisted his chair so they were facing each other again. “How helpful.” He looked down at his lap. “Can you figure the rest out by yourself? Or do you need more help?” A strange part of him silently yearned for the latter. He wanted, for some insane reason, Hugo’s chin resting on his shoulder, his hot breath tickling his neck. What was wrong with him?

“Well…” Hugo said, drawing out the word, “that’s just one problem. There are so many more of many different varieties.”

Varian glared up at him. “You need more help,” he deadpanned.

“I need more help,” Hugo agreed. He was still smiling so either he was lying or he actually wanted Varian to tutor him. Varian rolled his eyes.

“I still need to finish my homework, Hugo, so I can’t spend an eternity on you. 15 minutes. Then you’re on your own.”

Hugo’s smile widened. “That’s a deal, Hairstripe.”

“Varian.” Hugo ignored him and practically skipped to his bed. He flopped down on it and then patted the spot next to him.

“Ruddiger. Come here.”

“What?” Varian felt his face grow warm again. No. There was no way in hell that Hugo wanted Varian to sit on his bed. And there was no way he was actually going to do it. “Can’t we just-”

Hugo cut him off. “I’m not leaning over you for 15 minutes. That’s horrible for my posture. Now get over yourself and get over here.” He patted the spot again, this time more forcefully. “And bring my shit over.”

Varian huffed yet he felt a grin start to creep onto his face. He smothered it just as face. “Yes, your highness.” He stood and gathered Hugo’s stuff, tucking a pencil behind his ear. He turned around to see Hugo staring at him. Blatantly. “What?”

Hugo blinked and then shook his head. “Nothing. Hurry up, we’re wasting time.”

Varian sat next to Hugo and put the notebook and textbook between them. “Alright. Point out the next problem.”

It went like that for the next 15 minutes. Hugo would show Varian a problem he didn’t understand, Varian would explain it and then Hugo would do it himself. As time passed, the two subconsciously drew closer together. When Varian looked up to tell Hugo that the time was up, he could make out all the different shades of green in Hugo’s eyes. He felt himself try to flinch back but he stopped himself.

He never addressed the obvious but Hugo was good looking. Despite the undercut and ponytail and the smug smile he constantly wore, he was tall with defined cheekbones and eyes that sparkled whenever he was happy or amused. He had a smattering of freckles across his nose that were pale against his skin. The two locked eyes and Varian heard Hugo’s breath catch.

Then there was a weight on his hand. He took a chance look down and saw Hugo’s pale hand over his. He bit his lip. Was Hugo drawing closer?

He was. He leaned over and whispered in Varian’s ear, “Of course our first date would be a study date you fucking nerd.”

That instantly broke the spell and Varian shoved Hugo away. Hugo was grinning like the little shit he was but there was a hint of remorse in his eyes. Varian stood abruptly. “Alright, we’re done. And you owe me. Again.”

“Another lunch date?” Hugo asked. Varian rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.” He turned away and stomped back over to his desk. He felt Hugo’s gaze on his back. His hand that was under Hugo’s felt just a little colder. He clutched his hands together as he sat.

As he bent over his work, he heard Hugo say quietly, “Thanks.”

He bit his lip again. “No problem.”

There was shuffling behind him. Hugo getting ready for bed no doubt. The door to the bathroom opened and closed, leaving Varian alone. The second Hugo was gone, Varian put his head on the desk. He could still faintly feel Hugo’s hand covering his. What the hell was wrong with him?

What was that?

#varian/hugo #tts varian #varian and hugo #varian and the seven kingdoms #hugovarian #hugo #alchemy boyfriends #varigo

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strangenewneighborhood · 5 years ago

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wait u guys get signatures?? oh i guess thats on me, anyway, whats the meaning of the symbol on our necklace gordo? - 🐟

Hey, yeah, good question.

Examples of the symbolic use of lowercase lambda include:

Lambda indicates the wavelength of any wave, especially in physics, electronics engineering, and mathematics.[5]

In evolutionary algorithms, λ indicates the number of offspring that would be generated from μ current population in each generation. The terms μ and λ are originated from Evolution strategy notation.

Lambda indicates the radioactivity decay constant in nuclear physics and radioactivity. This constant is very simply related (by a multiplicative constant) to the half-life of any radioactive material.

In probability theory, lambda represents the density of occurrences within a time interval, as modeled by the Poisson distribution.

In mathematical logic and computer science, lambda is used to introduce anonymous functions expressed with the concepts of lambda calculus.

Lambda is a unit of volume, synonymous with one microliter (1 μL), that is, one cubic millimetre (1 mm3). This use is currently deprecated.

Lambda indicates an eigenvalue in the mathematics of linear algebra.

In the physics of electric fields, lambda sometimes indicates the linear charge density of a uniform line of electric charge (measured in coulombs per meter).

Lambda denotes a Lagrange multiplier in multi-dimensional calculus.

In solid-state electronics, lambda indicates the channel length modulation parameter of a MOSFET.

In ecology, lambda denotes the long-term intrinsic growth rate of a population. This value is often calculated as the dominant eigenvalue of the age/size class matrix (mathematics).

In formal language theory and in computer science, lambda denotes the empty string.

Lambda is a nonstandard symbol in the International Phonetic Alphabet for the voiced alveolar lateral affricate [dɮ].

Lambda denotes the Lebesgue measure in mathematical set theory.

The Goodman and Kruskal's lambda in statistics indicates the proportional reduction in error when one variable's values are used to predict the values of another variable.

Lambda denotes the oxygen sensor in a vehicle that measures the air-to-fuel ratio in the exhaust gases of an internal-combustion engine.

A Lambda 4S solid-fuel rocket was used to launch Japan's first orbital satellite in 1970.[6]

Lambda denotes the failure rate of devices and systems in reliability theory, and it is measured in failure events per hour. Numerically, this lambda is also the reciprocal of the mean time between failures.

In criminology, lambda denotes an individual's frequency of offenses.

In cartography and navigation, lambda denotes the longitude of a location.

In electrochemistry, lambda also denotes the ionic conductance of a given ion (the composition of the ion is generally shown as a subscript to the lambda character).

In neurobiology, lambda denotes the length constant (or exponential rate of decay) of the electric potential across the cell membrane along a length of a nerve cell's axon.

In the science and technology of heat transfer, lambda denotes the heat of vaporization per mole of material (a.k.a. its "latent heat").[7]

In the technology and science of celestial navigation, lambda denotes the longitude as opposed to the Roman letter "L", which denotes the latitude.

In 1970, a lowercase lambda was chosen by Tom Doerr as the symbol of the New York chapter of the Gay Activists Alliance.[10][11] The lambda symbol became associated with Gay Liberation[12][13] and recognized as an LGBT symbol for some time afterwards, being used as such by the International Gay Rights Congress in Edinburgh,[14] the gay rights organization Lambda Legal, and the Lambda Literary Foundation, among others.

... How many Wikipedia articles do you just have memorized?

A lot!

#anon #asks #;

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astyle-alex · 5 years ago

Text

[Fanfic] Museum Mishap | the BatFam

Heya! As we approach the End of 2020 (FINALLY), I’m realizing that this story is ridiculously close to reaching the milestone of 25k hits on Ao3. To celebrate, I’ll be posting the whole thing here on Tumblr!

(I would however, deeply appreciate it if y’all would pop over to view it on Ao3, briefly, so I can get the view counted as a hit and actually make it over the line for 25k in views before the close of 2020!)

Museum Mishap | Chapter 1/6

Fandom: the DC Universe, Batman & co. Pairings: Jay x Tim Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None

Total Word Count: 38,590

Summary:

Middle-School Tim Drake is on a field trip to the Science Museum, but with a WE exhibition of top-secret new technologies being staged in the basement, Tim separates from his classmates and breaks into the staff-only areas by using the skills he's developed over years of stalking Batman and Robin.

Current-Robin Jason Todd catches him in the act, but he's not there to confront Tim for trespassing or truancy - he's there because there's a rumor on the street that Tim Drake knows Batman's real name. And the rumor's gaining ground, quick, drawing in the wrong kind of attention.

When a Drug-Lord decides to take the rumor seriously enough to kidnap the little genius, Jason jumps into the crossfire. It all goes downhill from there. Fast.

(Jason is 14, Tim is 12)

Chapter 1 : Special Access

A trip to Gotham’s History of Science and Technology Museum would’ve been exciting for even your average twelve year old – it was a day of school that didn’t feel like school, and it meant a chance to hang out, relatively unsupervised, with your friends all day instead of just the one or two classes you managed to luck into having together.

Timothy Jackson Drake was not your average twelve year old, and a trip to the SciTech Muse was the kind of thing that made his enrollment in middle school entirely worth it. For starters, it was an entire day spent in the heart of the city surrounded by some of the coolest artifacts of science humans could craft.

And to make things even better, the trip was an all-day, delayed opening affair, starting at 10am and ending at 6pm – which meant he’d actually been able to get enough sleep last night to be well-rested, a rarity in its own right with his particular extra-curriculars. Better yet, he’d been able to tell the Drake housekeeper / nanny that he’d be having dinner with his class so she could go home right at 6 without having to wait for him to get back so she could cook for him.

That part wasn’t true, of course, but he had concrete evidence that had been legitimately published by the school to help back up his story. Mrs. Simz had her own kid, and was therefore harder to convince than some of the others Tim’s parents had hired, but that also meant she had more reason to hurry home when presented with a believable reason excusing it.

Being a sixth-grader meant Tim couldn’t just stay in the heart of the city when the field trip was over, he was on a rollcall and the bus back to Gotham Academy wouldn’t leave without his name getting checked off. The high schoolers were allowed to take public transit home if they had a signed permission slip from their parents, but Tim had to wait a few more years before he could con his way into having such freedoms.

Still, getting over to the West Side from where his school was in Coventry would be far easier than getting there from the Drake Estate way out in Bristol. The extra hour and a half he’d save himself in commuting time mean he would be able to grab some coffee and something to eat without having to rush to get in place for the nighttime adventure he’d planned.

Beyond all that, the fact that the field trip was this week, meant there was a special exhibition from the cutting-edge tech division of Wayne Enterprises in the midst of being set up. All the main components were being staged in the museum's basement and the ones too big to steal were as close to unprotected as they would ever be – and Tim intended to take full advantage of that.

He’d been summarily and repeatedly denied acceptance to the WayneTech summer camps as his parents owned one of the company's main competitors: Drake Industries. Apparently corporate espionage was a big enough problem that even ten year olds were suspect. Tim found it ridiculous that the one time he would’ve been entirely okay with having his abilities underestimated was the one time he wasn’t assumed to be just another dumb kid. Honestly, Tim was pretty sure that no one had actually read his application – the computer had probably scanned his ID and kicked his profile out of the running before it had even made it to a human that might care about his actual qualifications.

Tim hadn’t figured out how to make a bulletproof fake identity profile – not yet, at least – And he certainly wasn’t going to get caught trying to gain illegal access to WE on a sub-par fake ID. Because there were all kinds of ways that would go poorly for him – between his parents possibly being disappointed in him enough to hire a live-in Nanny to the legal ramifications he’d face, even as a minor, it just wasn’t worth it.

But the thought of getting an up-close look at the new tech WE was rolling out still made Tim's heart pound like he’d just downed a full pot of coffee. WE took a very different approach to developing their tech than DI – more of a ‘you know what would be cool? can we make that reasonable?’ philosophy than a ‘how do we solve this problem?’ sort of thing. Tim found the both the WE approach and their results utterly fascinating.

Not that Tim had been allowed to play with much of DI's tech, being that his parents would hear about him attempting to gain unsupervised lab access, and promptly ground him, and anyone who might supervise treated him like a kid far too young to understand or unobtrusively observe the work going on inside the places he wanted to see.

So, the fact that a spectacular spread of WE tech was set up in the basement of a rather glaringly unsecured staff only area in the very building Tim’s class was touring stood as an open invitation for Tim to investigate.

An invitation that Tim took very seriously. He’d spent at least 18 hours over the past week examining the museum’s blueprints – courtesy of the Gotham City Hall Public Archives – And the rundown of the security, both in terms of the human guards and staff on-hand and the electronic countermeasures – via close examination of the extensive repertoire of ‘insider access’ videos on the museum’s own webpage. Tim would probably end up sending the museum an anonymous suggestion about adjusting that at some point, but he’d worry about that later.

After he used it to his tech fantasy fulfillment advantage.

For now, he simply slipped away from the unwatchful eyes of his teachers, stuck headphones in his ears, and carefully made his way – casually, calmly, and like he had no destination in mind – over to the hallway by the cafeteria near the east wing gift shop. The hallway that had restrooms and a staff-only door halfway down it. A door secured with a heavy-duty machine-lock, with a ten-digit keypad, but a door that was not alarmed.

The human guards were always more focused on preventing shoplifters from stealing over-priced – for a good cause, but still over-priced – museum memorabilia than on the high-traffic restroom hall by the cafeteria. Using his headphones as an excuse to tap his fingers to keep count – while his eyes and most of his brainpower focused on evaluating targets – Tim tracked the museum employees on their lunch breaks and calculated the best option to use as his ticket backstage. He had some in mind, but he had contingencies for last-minute adjustment.

Tim settled on a big guy whose name he’d read on staff profiles but had forgotten with the other useless information provided about his role in the marketing department. What Tim hadn’t forgotten about him was that his department’s office was right by the staff door he was eyeing – 4.5 meters down and to the left, to be exact – which meant that, even with his slow stride, he would be behind another door in the hallway approximately 17 seconds after the door Tim needed closed behind him.

When Mr. Marketing got up and lumbered over to the trash, Tim sidled over towards an informational sign with a museum map. As Mr. Marketing passed him, Tim counted off 4 seconds before he turned around to follow. He slid his hand into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the u-shaped metallic magnet he'd had to smuggle in by jamming it into his mouth and using sleight of hand to pretend it was his retainer – Less than sanitary, but effective, and he’d taken an extra vitamin this morning as a precaution.

Mr. Marketing punched in his code and pulled the door open to well over 90° before he lumbered through the gap. Tim kept his pace consistent; patient, he could be patient – even though it made his heart rate kick up uncomfortably as he put his faith in his calculations instead of in his feet. He reached the door with almost 6 inches of clearance left for him to slide his hand in and clip his magnet into place over the latch.

The door closed as he withdrew his hand and kept walking, but it did not click.

The machine lock whirred with an attempt to close, but its components struck the flat surface of his magnet and failed to properly secure the door. Had the door been alarmed, that would have drawn a lot of unwanted attention, but as it was Tim made it to the restroom with almost nothing noticeably amiss.

The restroom was crowded enough that his entrance didn’t draw attention and he shut himself in one of the stalls to count off exactly 10 seconds. Then he washed his hands, acquired a paper towel that he did not immediately dispose of, and went to retrieve his magnet. The paper towel allowed him to grasp the handle without leaving fingerprints and he retrieved his magnet without incident – opening the door onto an empty hallway and promptly swerving right to access the unsecured stairwell he knew would be there.

Tim had no way to hide himself from the singular security camera watching the hallway, but the area was so highly trafficked that he doubted any security guard had been monitoring closely enough to spot his detour. He would get in a ton of trouble if he was caught here – phone calls to his parents would be unavoidable and they’d likely be so angry at him they’d fly back from Spain a week early. But he’d almost certainly avoid any kind of legal consequences.

Besides, he wasn’t going to get caught. He’d planned this too well for that.

Tim made his way through the less convenient passageways in the museum’s basement until he reached the corner of the sub-basement where the WayneTech exhibit was being staged. It was, as he’d known it would be, isolated and completely vacant of staff.

A smile split his face as the relief he felt in making it there successfully was quickly replaced by the buzz of unadulterated excitement. He set his backpack down carefully – mindful, as always, of his precious camera. Then he rolled up his sleeves as he stepped closer to the first machine he saw with the WE logo stamped proudly on its side.

According to the signage prepped in the binder sitting next to the behemoth, it was a component of the quantum computer WayneTech was developing to facilitate physically interactive virtual realities. Tim bounced on his toes as he warred with himself – half wanting to read more about the technical specs and half wanting to dive right in and see it for himself.

Tim made it through another two pages of engineering details before he gave up and literally tackled the machine to hoist himself up high enough to look inside via the glass panel built in for that specific purpose. There were at least a dozen windows in the casing and Tim wondered – for a brief moment of distraction from the tech itself as he clambered higher up its exterior – how the museum was going to work in ramps and such for visitors to get the best views. If he didn’t get arrested tonight or banned from the museum forever, he might have to come back to see it in its full glory.

He’d finagled his way to the last protrusion from top and was marveling at the neat rows of complicated wiring laid out below him when something crucial changed: he discovered that he was not, in fact, alone.

“Ya know, I don’t think you’re supposed to be down here.”

Tim really wanted to pretend he didn’t yelp like a kicked puppy when the sudden voice scared him half out of his skin, but the basement echoed enough for him to know it would be ridiculous to think the newcomer hadn’t heard him. Tim ducked his head in shame as his ears burned red and he turned to face whoever had caught him with hunched shoulders and guilty hands raised in surrender.

And then he spotted his accuser on the floor and froze.

It was Jason Peter Todd.

Jason Peter Todd – Bruce Wayne’s new ward and the new Robin. And also kinda Tim’s neighbor. Well, as far as the word ‘neighbor' applied when your respective estates were so big it took an hour to hike door to door. Tim’s brain got caught in a loop of wondering what the frack Jason Peter Todd, of all people, was doing at the museum on a Thursday afternoon. Was doing down here, in this particular sub-basement, on a Thursday afternoon.

Tim had fully been expecting to see the new Robin today, but that was when he was in full costume and wasn’t supposed to be for at least ten more hours. And Tim had not – in any of his contingencies – planned for Robin to see him.

“Uh, hi,” Tim floundered.

“Hi,” returned the crime fighting teenager Tim idolized and had been planning to stalk through Coventry later today. There was a glint in his eyes as he stared up at Tim with a smirk.

They stared at each other in silence for way longer than could possibly be considered reasonable and Tim's ears resumed to burn at that, and at the distinct realization he had no idea what to say next.

Because what exactly are you supposed to say when Jason Peter Todd catches you red handed in an off-limits part of a museum? Sitting on top of a piece of cutting edge computer engineering that you had absolutely no right to touch?

“You're Tim Drake, aren’t you,” Jason asked – in a way that was definitely not really a question and also made it clear that Jason was laughing at him. “We met last month at the charity gala. I’m Jason.”

“I remember, Mr. Todd,” Tim spouted, falling back on the robotic safety net of manners his mother had drilled into him. “Um, what brings you here?”

“It’s just ‘Jason’, kid.” He jerked his chin at the machine Tim clung to, continuing, “That shit’s WayneTech. B sent me over to make sure it’s got all the right bits with it.”

Tim nodded like a puppet, trying not to drown in his horror as he realized what it meant that Jason had caught him. He was messing with tech that Batman owned. There were probably a hundred undetectable BatSecurity features on this thing. Robin had probably been sent to see if someone was trying to steal it when one of Batman’s invisible alarms had gone off.

“How about you, kid,” Jason asked, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his cargo pants. He regarded Tim with openly amused parody as he asked, “What brings you here?”

“Field trip,” Tim responded automatically.

“Field trip?” Jason echoed with an incredulous chuckle.

He stared at Tim for another long moment and Tim stared back, terrified and unblinking and too tongue tied to substantiate his claim.

“Alright then,” Jason said eventually, with a one shoulder shrug inside his leather jacket. “So, you got yourself stuck up there or are you gonna come have lunch with me?”

“Lunch?”

“Yeah, ya know, food. You eat it,” Jason explained. “I know I could use some pizza.”

Tim frowned – at the confirmation of the non-sequitur of lunch plans, not the various insults attached to it.

Jason seemed to falter briefly. “You actually stuck up there, Tim?”

“No,” Tim huffed, willing to admit he sounded slightly petulant about it.

“Well then get your skinny ass down here,” Jason prompted – a beat too late in a way Tim didn’t quite understand. He blinked, trying to puzzle out what didn’t sit right, but Jason arched an eyebrow – in the way Tim had seen him do as Robin, magically managing the expression despite the mask – and Tim realized he was supposed to be doing something.

He was already in enough trouble as it was, so Tim scrambled down the computer and found himself face to face with the second Robin. Or face to chest, as it were.

Tim hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet, so he knew he was a scrawny twelve, but he hadn’t thought Jason would be that much taller. Jason was only two years older and he was stocky to start with. It was different when he’d been in the suit he’d worn for the charity gala. In civvies he looked broad and strong, and he stood up straighter.

Jason pulled one hand from his pocket and threw his arm around Tim’s shoulders – began dragging him towards the exit. Tim lunged for his backpack as they passed it and clutched it close to his chest as Jason continued to drag him back upstairs.

They ended up in the west cafeteria, in a corner that Jason had clearly selected for it’s state of semi-privacy. It was crowded and public enough to make raised voices problematic, but private enough to discuss sensitive details without much worry of being over heard. And it was neutral ground, like Jason was trying to make Tim comfortable before hashing out exactly how much trouble he was in for touching Batman’s stuff without express permission.

Jason had acquired a large pizza, dripping with extra cheese and a blanket of peperoni, and two double-thick paper plates – one of which he piled high with three slices and placed in front of Tim. He gave himself five slices and settled down to chat having somehow already inhaled half of a sixth.

“So,” Jason started around a mouthful of food as Tim poked tentatively as his own serving, “Some people are saying you’ve got some sort of connection to the Batman.”

Tim frowned, his gaze snapping up to evaluate Jason.

He’d spoken quietly, conspiratorially – like he wanted in on a secret Tim had. Like he wasn’t about to threaten to hang Tim by his thumbs in the depths of Batman’s secret lair for the rest of the foreseeable future.

Awareness that Jason didn’t know that Tim knew his vigilante identity sparked inside Tim’s brain. He might be able to get out of this. If Robin didn’t know then Tim was only in trouble for touching the quantum computer because Batman didn’t want anyone touching it, and Jason was limited in how he could exact vengeance because the wrong move would reveal his role as Robin. All Tim had to do was talk his way out of this.

Tim could do that. Right?

All he had to do was figure out how.

“I’m sorry I touched the quantum computer,” he blurted.

Probably not like that.

Tim hunched down into his shoulders and poked again at his pizza to avoid eye contact with Jason. His ears began to burn again as he felt Jason staring at him.

“Shit, kid,” Jason said, after swallowing his bite this time, “You’re not in trouble.”

Tim’s finger paused mid-poke. “I’m not?”

“Nah,” Jason promised. “Fuck the Man.”

Tim blinked. “Then why are you talking to me?”

Jason blinked. A sort of confused expression that was vaguely pitying flickered across his face. Then he reiterated, “’Cause I hear you know who the Batman is, ya know, under the cowl.”

Okay. So, Jason didn’t know he knew, but he suspected.

Tim could work with that. Probably.

He took a bite of pizza purely to keep himself from blurting anymore unhelpful apologies and attempted to calculate the best response.

“Nobody knows who Batman is,” Tim said eventually.

“But you’re a fan, right?” Jason nodded at Tim sweater – at the big black and yellow R embroidered on the left-hand side of the red-wool knitwork. Mrs. Davis had made this sweater for him, before her kids had insisted that she retire from babysitting rich Gotham kids and go be a grandmother in the safety and comfort of their town in Florida. Mrs. Davis had been one of the very few people who had supported Tim’s moderately obsessive interest in Batman and Robin.

She hadn’t really understood, but Tim missed her – missed being able to talk about it.

“You’ve gotta have some theories,” Jason was saying, his voice persistent enough to pull Tim back out from inside his own head.

“I don’t have any theories,” Tim said. And it was true enough. He’d had theories. But that was before. Now, he had evidence. Another bite of pizza kept him from saying that out loud.

“Seriously? None?”

Tim shrugged and counted the circles of peperoni left on his first slice. Nine more circles, fifteen more bites. His stomach was already wary of the food he was putting in it. If this interrogation lasted more than ten bites, Tim’s stomach would probably begin to protest.

Adamantly.

He peeked up at Jason. Who was somehow already finishing slice number three.

“Then why’s the word on the street that you’ve got insider know-how on ole Batsy?”

“I dunno,” Tim said with another shrug. Truthfully, the question was bothering him too.

Tim had never been seen when he’d staked out a spot to catch the dynamic duo on patrol or in the midst of a big bust. Never. They would’ve confronted him then and there if they’d ever found him with a camera full of very clear photos of them in action.

So, how did Robin know enough to suspect him?

“Who’d you hear it from?”

This time, Jason shrugged. “I dunno. People. But like seriously, you don’t have any fucking idea why someone would think you know Batman’s real name?”

Tim shook his head silently. He wanted to save his pizza for the questions that really needed him to have something to do with his mouth other than blabbing out his secrets.

“Huh.”

Jason’s eyes were narrowed, not quite threateningly, but pressingly – like he wasn’t quite sure a threat would be appropriate, but he was certain that Tim wasn’t telling the truth. It was another look Tim had captured him using as Robin. A kind of gentled-down BatglareTM for Robin to use on uncooperative victims instead of how Batman used his on uncooperative criminals – because victims could be uncooperative for all kinds of non-criminal reasons.

Tim suddenly understood why it was so effective.

He squirmed in his seat and caved to the need to take another bite of pizza.

But he wasn’t a victim. Was he?

Suddenly, Robin’s presence at the museum seemed a lot more suspect. It made sense for Robin to be there because Tim had triggered some sort of invisible Batalarm on the quantum computer, but he’d gotten there way too quickly for that to have been what brought him to the museum initially. He’d’ve had to have already been inside the building.

But why?

Tim’s class had been scheduled for this museum trip over a month ago. He’d even talked about it briefly with Bruce Wayne himself at the charity gala he’d attended with his parents – that’s how he’d known about the WayneTech exhibition far enough in advance to plan effectively to sneak down to the basements.

“When’d you start hearing that rumor?”

Tim’s question was so sudden and loud in his own ears that he startled himself.

He seemed to have startled Jason too – who was starting on pizza slice number five and appeared to have been in the middle of a sentence when Tim had jolted into questioning him.

“Uh, about a week ago, I guess,” Jason explained. “Your name had come up a few times before that in regards to you being a fan, but it wasn’t too long ago that it changed to you having special access or some shit.”

Tim nodded absently.

Two weeks ago, there’d been a major drug bust in a neighborhood just over half a mile away from his school. Batman had been tipped off about the drug ring in the same way Tim had: kids who came to school high rode the bus home and the chalk marks on the benches at the stops used by the kids who were using weren’t terribly sophisticated code.

Tim had snagged some really spectacular shots the night that bust went down.

Several of Tim’s classmates had exhibited symptoms of withdrawal shortly after that. A few of those students – namely some who’d never seemed to be able to have a civil conversation or simply let Tim pass in silence – had stopped exhibiting those symptoms a few days later. Tim had assumed they’d found a new dealer.

Maybe they’d needed to find something more valuable to trade too, to make up for getting their old dealer busted.

Info on the Bat who’d busted them would be pretty valuable.

Even just a lead on info would’ve been valuable. Tim had been outright stalking Batman and Robin for over a third of his entire lifespan, at this point, and only just recently figured out who Batman really was. And he was a verified genius who’d happenstantially acquired the right life experiences to recognize things like quadruple somersaults. Who’d circumstantially idolized and stalked two different costumed acrobats for several years before he realized they were actually the same person and begun to extrapolate from there.

Nobody knew anything about Batman.

A tip on someone who might, would be very valuable indeed.

Tim was being interrogated by Robin because he was a victim. He just hadn’t been victimized quite yet.

Tim dropped his pizza like it’d burned him and began to rifle through his backpack for the new cellphone his mother had bought him when school started. It was ‘so he could fit in with his peers’. It was too big to fit in his pocket and he’d never liked wearing a watch, so he’d had to dig to find it and figure out the time.

It was 4:32pm.

Shift change for the guards was in less than an hour and they were already definitely antsy for it. Most of the science staff were already heading home to beat the traffic, and most of the new guards wouldn’t be coming in for at least another twenty minutes.

If Tim were going to lead a team to invade this place and capture an unwilling potential asset, he would do it in the next ten to fifteen minutes.

“We have to get out of here.”

Jason frowned, his confusion pronounced with wary unease. But he demonstrated a willingness to trust Tim at his word for no other reason than Tim wanted him to and clambered to his feet. He took his last slice of pizza with him though – and nabbed the two untouched pieces from Tim’s plate as he followed.

“What’s wrong, Tim,” Jason asked, carefully nonchalant. His hands were full of pizza in the way Tim’s mouth had been to stop him from doing what he wanted to do when asked a stupid question he should’ve known better than to answer – Tim suspected that if Jason wasn’t holding onto the pizza he’d’ve grabbed Tim’s shoulder at this point.

Tim didn’t know how to answer at all, let alone efficiently communicate what he’d deduced about their current situation. Especially not without revealing that he knew Jason was Robin and could guess why Robin was here talking to him to begin with.

Jason was rapidly eating though the pizza that was keeping him from grabbing onto Tim’s arm to stop their not-so-subtle scramble towards the museum’s main exit. They made it to within sight of the doors before Jason had inhaled the last piece of crust, and Tim had probably ignored several unheard comments and questions about their rapid egress, when Jason finally lost the battle to avoid physical contact and wrapped his hand around Tim’s elbow.

Tim swung around to face him as his inertia asserted dominance.

“Timmy, what’s got you so spooked?” Jason asked. “C’mon. You can tell me. Anything. I won’t rat on you, even if it’s something bad. Lemme help.”

“I can’t – it’s not – You don’t,” Tim could practically feel the whine building in his voice at all the false starts that his brain attempted to send through his mouth to make the act of communication happen. His brain apparently thought it worked something like magic.

Tim was frustrated and embarrassed and still very acutely aware of the fact that they needed to get out of the building. Right now.

And Jason was doing the Robin look, the other one – the one for the scared little bunnies of the victims they came across that needed to be soothed and calmed and promised that they had a friend somewhere in the cold cruel world. Tim knew why it worked – felt it working on him – and yet he was mortified that Robin thought it necessary.

He wasn’t a bunny. He was an asset. Currently being targeted.

Recentered, he focused and forced words to come out of his mouth intelligibly.

“We have to get out of the building.”

Jason had moved to holding onto both of Tim’s shoulders at some point – holding him steady, holding him still. He looked Tim right in the eye and asked gently, “Why?”

The words got jammed up in Tim’s throat again and he squeaked.

And then the museum’s windows exploded inward with a dramatic shower of glass and gunfire as more goons than Tim could count began to repel their way inside.

Tim closed his eyes and winced at the bite of regret on how fracking close they’d been to getting out of this without any major complications.

“That’s why,” he groaned.

-----

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#BatFam #dcu #dcmultiverse #Batman #Robin #Batman & Robin #Jay x Tim #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Jason Todd x Tim Drake #fanfic #Kid!fic

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ochard-fics · 5 years ago

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Bad Ideas - A Spider-man Story

Chapter Index: 1, 2

Pronouns used for (Y/N): they/them

Genre: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, young love

Warnings: None

Word count: +7.1k

Summary: Though you moved across the country about half a year ago, you are still trying to find your footing in the strange streets of New York. On top of that, you are desperately trying to balance your demanding school life at Midtown School of Science and Technology, where you like everyone but you was much more talented and smarter than you could ever imagine to be. Among those students is the one whom you loathe the most: Peter Benjamin Parker, the boy who’s success both in school and in Stark Industries is constantly shoved in your face. The only person who helps you escape those troubles is Spider-man, the hero of Queens and your crush.

A/N: Hello all! Thank you for waiting so patiently for the next chapter in the series. I hope you are all staying safe and healthy during these unfortunate times. Please enjoy this chapter! Comments, reblogs, likes and feedback is greatly appreciated!

A HUMONGOUS thank you to @tinybabyrat who helped me out while I wrote this!

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Chapter 2 - Peter Parker, the nuisance

How did everything go south so fast? You thought your Tuesday was looking up. No major tests or quizzes today, no horrible mile run in P.E., and no over-cooked rice in the cafeteria lunch! However, the universe decided to say fuck you and here you were, sitting uncomfortably in your guidance councilor’s office. Ms. Lee was busy typing away at her computer, her thick, wavy black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Your eyes began to wander around your surroundings, like the wall calendar pinned to the corkboard behind her, that showed Claude Monet’s Water Lilies painting for the month of February. Or the several post-it notes of various bright colors with reminders, and then photos of her and her wife, Ms. Narvaez, happily smiling together with their two rescue dogs Fritz and Sadie, who were mutts. Waiting in there started to feel like forever until Ms. Lee straightened her posture and turned her figure towards you, clasping her hands as she put her arms on her desk.

“Hey kid,” she greeted you with a warm smile, “I can see that you want to know what you’re in my office.” You replied with a stiff nod, looking at her with meek eyes.

“I wanted to talk to you about your current progress in school, particularly your general education courses” she states, adjusting her square, wire-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose, “I need you to take a look for yourself.” She takes the frame of the monitor and it toward you, where you could see your current report card displayed upon the screen.

“From the looks of it,” she says, looking over at the monitor, “Your grades have gone down significantly since you started your year here at MSST.” Oof, that was not good news whatsoever. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably as she continued speaking.

“I have noticed that math and chemistry have been particularly difficult for you,” she mentions, “Is there a reason why?” You looked down, fiddling with your thumbs, a habit you had recently formed out of anxiety.

“W-well,” you stutter as your voice cracks, “I’ve always had a hard time with math. A-and chemistry has a lot of concepts about it that are hard for me to understand.” Which was true. Anything having to do with math you immediately panicked upon seeing. Math, to you, was a whole other language that you still couldn’t understand. Which was rich, considering you could speak four languages fluently. Chemistry was a lot like math and it even included it, so it was just another layer of confusion for you.

“I understand your frustration with the subjects,” she says with a nod, “You are not the only student here that struggles with them.” Yeah, you thought, like 12 kids out of the who knows how many here? This was a science and tech school for crying out loud; everyone around you was a prodigy! Well, except for Flash Thompson. “(Y/N),” Ms. Lee begins, “Do you know your current GPA*?” She looks up at you, to which you give her a shrug.

“It’s currently a 2.78,” She says as she points to the top of the report card, where it was displayed, “It’s not a bad score. However, compared to your GPA from your previous school year it has dropped significantly.” You furrowed your brows, waiting to see where she was going with this.

Ms. Lee looks at you very seriously and says, “If your grades continue to decline, you could potentially fail your junior year, and will have to repeat.” A lump formed in your throat upon this new information. Repeating a year of high school was up there with your biggest fears, along with heights and your dad. The mere idea of failing school started to make you internally panic.

Ms. Lee looks at you sympathetically, folding her hands upon her desk once again.

"I understand that moving across the country is incredibly difficult,” she starts, “You know that I'm from L.A. as well. I miss it dearly. All of my family and childhood friends reside there. I miss going to my favorite boba shops with my friends, I miss going to Malibu, and I even miss the forty-minute drives to go from one place to another! But oh boy, do I not miss the traffic." This made you chuckle, which brought a smile to her motherly face.

"However, I had to move here for college,” she continues, and you listened intently, “It was incredibly difficult for me to adjust to life here. Manhattan felt like a whole new world in comparison to Los Angeles. On top of that, I didn't know anyone here. I was alone, and the loneliness took a toll on my performance in school. Though you know what got me back up?" You shook your head in response.

"I got help. With the suggestion of a councilor I made a study group with a few of my classmates so we could all assist one another. As time went by, they eventually became my closest friends throughout college, and Manhattan as a whole. Additionally, when I didn't understand something in class, I went to the teacher for clarification. If they could provide it, of course."

"I will admit, it was incredibly hard for me to ask for academic aid," she looks down at her folded hands as she continues to reminisce about her past, "I grew up with this idea that I couldn’t do anything without my parent’s help. I depended on them to solve my problems and it damaged my self confidence. Then culminated this sense of guilt, because I felt like I was totally helpless. Though I tried to be self-sufficient, I was met with criticism because I would make mistakes. This led me to develop a perfectionism complex, and if I didn’t get something right on the first try I just gave up. It felt suffocating.”

“From the information you have told me these past months,” she looks up at you, “You are in that current situation. You’re afraid to ask for help because you think of it as a sign of dependence. That you cannot do anything without help. Which is unfortunate, because help shouldn’t have to feel like a burden.” Shit, she was right on the ball. All your life your parents would hold your hand whether you liked it or not. And just like she experienced, when you tried to be independent and failed, it only confirmed to your parents that you couldn’t do anything without them. That’s why you felt guilt whenever you were offered help; it was because it made you feel weak. Then when you tried to grasp at something on your own, you’d slip, and you would get frustrated and surrender your attempts all together. It was exhausting.

“Speaking of your parents,” she glances over at the computer monitor and back at you, “Are they aware of your current grades?” You shook your head in response, looking back down at your twiddling thumbs.

“Haven’t shown them any of my assignments this year,” you replied honestly, “My dad used to check up on my work, and then instead of trying to help me with corrections he’d take over my homework and make sure it was perfect. I-I got fed up with him doing everything for me so I told him to stop. He got mad and told me to never go back to him if I needed help with school.” Ms. Lee listened in intently as you spoke to her, which was what you really appreciated about her. She was like a therapist, very patient, and willing to listen to your troubles. Which was nice, considering that there was at least one adult in your life that was willing to listen to your troubles.

“I think it was very mature of you to tell your dad that,” she assures you, “Especially considering what you’ve told me about him. You wanted him to help you, not enabling you. How else will you learn, but through making your own mistakes?” If only your dad could listen in to the conversation you two were having, maybe he’d finally realize that he’s been wrong. But knowing your dad, he’d probably call Ms. Lee a fraud of a councilor so mauve it was best that he wasn’t there.

“I know you want to be independent of him,” she continues, “Any child would want to break away from that type of environment. It’s a pity that your father cannot be more supportive of you and your endeavors. You’re incredibly talented, (Y/N).” The compliment was very sweet of her, but for some reason, you believed she was saying that just to be nice. You heard her let out a worn-out sigh.

“Look,” she starts, turning the monitor back to face her, “In order for you to get into the college of your choice, art or not, you need to get a 3.0 or higher.”

“I can’t afford art college,” you admitted, “My parents would never help me with it, either.”

“There are several colleges that aren’t art universities but have excellent art programs,” she replies, typing on her keyboard, “Many of them being in California. And they cost half the price.” You looked up as this greatly piqued your interest. She turns the screen back to you and you look up, looking at the list of public schools that were ranked the top ten best art programs in the country, the majority of them being, as she said, in your home state. Your eyes widened in interest.

“You’re a smart very kid,” Ms. Lee assures you, but you give her a look, “You are. And if you can pull your grades up to a 3.0 or higher, you can apply for scholarships from these schools.” Damn scholarships always feel like a carrot on a stick, taunting you with their possibilities. However, with the amount you were being paid by Delmar for your work, you wouldn’t have a chance at paying for your college of choice. A scholarship could save you big time, and without the guilt of being a burden on your parents.

“If you can get them up by the end of the semester,” Ms. Lee says, “You’ll be secured for a scholarship. Maybe even more than one.” You chewed the inside of your lip, contemplating this information. Damn it, it seemed too good to be true. Getting your grades back up was much harder than bombing them, which you thought was totally unfair. The GPA system felt like a whole scam.

“This means you need to, pardon my language, kick your ass into gear,” she says, making you smile at her profanity, “But because math and chemistry are the classes that are giving you the most trouble, you will require extra help with them.” You raised a brow at her, sensing that she was getting somewhere with this. What was she up to?

“I'll set you up with a tutor,” she reveals, turning to you, “And don’t worry, they’ll be someone from school so your parents won’t have to pull out any pocket money. Your eyes widened in shock. A tutor? Was she being serious?!

You opened your mouth to object but she continues, “I talked to Cobwell and we’ve found the perfect tutor for you. A classmate of yours, actually.”

“W-wait, can’t I get tutoring from Cobwell? Or do those group tutoring sessions that student resources hold?” you asked, the idea of one it being one of your classmates sounding much worse than the tutoring itself.

“We did consider that,” she says, “But Cobwell just got assigned to assist Harrington with the academic decathlon, and we believe that because of your current situation, one-on-one would work for you best focus-wise.” You slumped back in your chair. Maybe you should have taken up Cobwell’s help when you had the chance. Now, you were going to be stuck spending an hour or more on subjects you hate with a burning passion with someone you probably don’t like. Speaking of which, you asked Ms. Lee who they chose to be your tutor.

“Oh, glad you asked,” she said, giving you a smile, “It’s Peter Parker.”

It took every inch of your body to hold the urge to scream. You did pray, though, that she was bluffing you. She had to be! But you saw no sign that she was fucking with you. You felt your body go into a cold sweat. You leaned toward Ms. Lee, horror in your eyes.

“Do you have anyone else but him?!” You cried, “Anyone?! I can not have him tutor me! Anyone but that loser!” Ms. Lee raises a brow at you, unamused by your reaction.

“Why not?” She asks, “He’s in all of your classes, as well as being the top student in math and chemistry.” You leaned back into the chair, letting a troubled and dramatic groan out.

“He’s a total numbskull!” you said exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air, “Flash Thompson will never let down that I’m going to be babysat by Parker.”

“You should be more concerned about your grades than your reputation, (Y/N),” Ms. Lee comments, making you purse your lips, “Additionally, I’m making the tutoring mandatory. So if I find out that you purposely ditch Parker, you will be penalized.” You frowned upon hearing this. Of all things you wanted to happen in your life, being forced to be in the same room as Peter Parker was the last thing you wanted. And you were going to get punished if you ignored him?! Not cool.

“Plus,” she continues, “If you give him a chance, you’ll see that you both have much more in common than you think.” This has to be some cruel prank, it just has to! If you found out that the Norse god of mischief Loki was behind this, you would make sure to find him and kick his ass all the way to another dimension.

“B-but,” you leaned towards her, eyes narrowing suspiciously, “What if he becomes negligent again? MJ told me what he did last year with the decathlon team.” She hums in response, leaning back on her chair.

“I assure you that Peter will not do such a thing,” she replies, “Actually, the other reason why we chose him as your tutor is that he has to complete community service hours due to his misbehavior last semester.

“I’m community service now?!” you exclaimed. How humiliating! You dropped your head into your hands, letting out a dramatic groan.

“Look, I understand that you’re uncomfortable,” Ms. Lee says, sitting up in her chair, “But you deserve the help. And part of being independent is knowing when you need it. And you don’t have to feel ashamed to ask for it.” You looked up at her, seeing that she was watching you sincerely. You knew she meant well, it was her job, after all. Yet this was the worst possible situation you could've put it. Yet again, it is your fault for procrastinating assistance with school for this long. Still, you would’ve taken anyone but Parker as your tutor. Even Flash Thompson! You let out a huff and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to process all of this very unfortunate information.

“Peter is a nice kid,” she assures you, though you give her a look that says you think otherwise, “Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable with him, it’ll help him help you. ” She points at you, and though she wasn’t doing it you could almost feel her finger pressing down on your chest. You bit your bottom lip, feeling unsure. Opening up to other people has become much harder for you since the move, and it’ll be much harder in an academic setting. Now, you have to do it with a person you deeply despise. She really was asking too much out of you.

You let out another sigh and straightened yourself then asked her “How often do I have to meet with him?” Please just once a month, you begged in your head.

“At least twice a week,” she answers, “I would like for you to meet with him tomorrow after school. The sooner you guys work the quicker you can improve.” A low groan was let out of you, earning a frown from her.

“I’ll be meeting with Parker tomorrow morning,” she said, turning to type on the computer, “You both will be in charge of scheduling hours. If you do it right, it shouldn’t affect art club hours or your feeding times for the animals in the biology laboratory.” You pouted. Junior year was already very hard, and this just added to the difficulty of it all. Would this tutoring even work?

“You’re a smart kid,” Ms. Lee says, “And I know you can do this. But you will need to be committed to this. Understand?” “Yes ma’am,” you said, begrudgingly.

The next day you arrived to class earlier than usual. The meeting with Ms. Lee gave you the thoughts of possibly failing school and having to work with the person you despised kept running through your thoughts, making it impossible to go to sleep. You noticed that the hall in which your locker was located had a speckle of people around, either chatting with their friends or just chilling by their lockers. You were leaning against yours, occupied with your phone as you watched yesterday's news on the touchscreen. You watched as the news anchor, the lady you had watched before at the bodega that there was yet another bodega stick-up that led to a fight between the robbers and Spider-man, this time in Hell’s Kitchen. The news cut to footage that showed him apprehending them, but took a few hits to the face and chest in the process. Your brows furrowed, worrying if he was okay since those hits looked pretty bad. He had mentioned to you before that he was able to heal quicker because of his powers, but you still couldn’t help but wonder if he was all right.

You heard your name being called out to you and you looked up to see Ned, who was approaching you with a wide smile spread across his face. Leaning away from your locker, you were about to give him a wave until you smelled something very putrid, making you cover your nose.

“Hey there!” he says, greeting you, “Have you seen Peter? I gotta give him his backpack.” He then held up a black and blue backpack, and you realized where the smell came from.

“Oh my god,” you said, scrunching your face, “Why the hell does that smell so bad?”

“Oh,” Ned looked at it, “I found it in a dumpster. Peter lost it.”

“How the hell did he lose it?” you asked with a frown.

“Ah,” Ned shifts uncomfortably, “Pete’s a bit clumsy sometimes, heh…” His face said that it was something else, but the smell prevented you from pressing any further.

“Why the heck did you bring it to school?!” You asked him, “It’s stinking up the whole hall!” You weren’t wrong, students around you were looking at the both of you and frowning as they too tried to cover their noses from the stench.

“Yeah,” Ned agrees, putting it down beside him, “I tried to put some spray-on air freshener on it but not even the smell of clean sheets could contain the scent of New York trash. Ned was a nice guy, but like Peter, he was also a bit goofy. Having enough of the smell, you turned to open your locker, where you rummaged through it until you found what you were looking for. Ned watched quizzically as you pulled out a beige-colored canvas tote bag. You turned and held it out to Ned.

“Take Peter’s supplies out of the backpack and put them in that,” you ordered Ned, who took the bag and looked at it in awe, “I have it as a backup in case I had paint spill in my backpack.”

“This is so cool!” Ned exclaims, holding up to his face, “And it even has a zipper in the opening! Did you make this?” You nodded. Last year you had taken a sewing class and had made a handful of items, tote bags being one of them. You had decided to make a few of them, some in which you gave as gifts to your friends and some that you made out of commission for your mom’s friends. Sewing, oddly enough, was something that you were pretty good at.

“Don’t tell Peter that I made it,” you said sternly, “Nor that I gave this to him. I don’t want him to know I did something nice.” Ned raised a brow at you but didn’t object.

“B-besides,” you added, motioning your head towards Peter’s backpack “I don’t want to smell that thing any longer.”

“Oh, right,” Ned said, unzipping the backpack, “I should probably throw this out. Sucks, ‘cuz he only got this two weeks ago.”

“Peter seems pretty careless,” You commented to Ned, watching him take out Peter’s supplies and putting them in the canvas bag.

“Nah,” Ned replies with a shrug, “He was much worse last year. He lost five backpacks within two months! At one point his aunt May threatened to let him go to school without one.” you furrowed your brows, concerned. What was Ms. Lee thinking!?

“And he’s going to be in charge of tutoring me?” you thought out loud, “I can’t believe this.”

“Peter’s going to tutor you?” Ned looks up, surprised. You told him about your meeting with Ms. Lee yesterday, explaining the whole situation. He listened, then nodded as you finished wrapping the story up.

“Well, I think you’re in good hands,” Ned reassures you, “Peter can be a doofus but he’s the smartest person I know. You’ll be passing in no time!” And speaking of the devil, you noticed from the corner of your eye that Peter Parker himself was jogging up to the two of you. As he approached, you noticed that his lip has a pretty nasty cut on it.

“Whoa, what the hell is up with that?” You exclaimed, pointing to your lip to mirror where the injury was on his face, “Did you get mugged or something?”

“Uh,” Peter looked over at Ned, who shifted his eyes at you, “Y-yeah! You know how aggressive New Yorkers are!” He says, then lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Right,” you said, narrowing your eyes at his suspicious behavior, “Did they take anything?” Before Peter could respond, Ned jumped in.

“His backpack!” he answers for him loudly, holding up the smelly bag yet again, causing both you and Peter to wince from the smell, “I found your backpack, Pete! The ones the muggers took! In the dumpster! What a coincidence! Haha!” Why on earth were these two acting so suspicious? They weren’t telling you something, though you wondered what was so secretive that they were trying to hide it from you? Then, you remembered something that MJ had mentioned to you the other day.

“Wait,” you raised a brow at the both of them, “Weren’t you guys hanging out yesterday? MJ told me you guys were going to the video game store in Hell’s Kitchen. You didn’t get mugged, Ned.” A look of panic plastered upon both of the boy's faces, and they exchanged looks with each other.

“T-the mugging happened when I was going home!” Peter stutters, his voice becoming higher, something you noticed he does when he’s nervous. Or lying.

“Y-yeah!” Ned says, nodding, “A-and I just happened to come across his backpack on my way back home!” This wasn’t the first time that they have acted like this with you before. One time they were like this with you while you were working at the bodega, where Peter had a pretty nasty black eye, and another time was when you caught Ned helping Peter skip the academic decathlon due to the Stark Internship, where the next day he had bruises on his knuckles. Dude seemed to get bruised up quite often, now that you thought about it. Before you could press any further with the two, Peter noticed the canvas bag.

“What’s that for?” Peter asks, pointing to it. Ned holds it out to him, telling him that his supplies are in there now.

“This is really nice!” Peter exclaims, taking the bag with excitement. You avert your eyes to the side as he asks his friend “Did you just have this with you, Ned?”

“Uh,” Ned turned to you, and you looked over at him. You better not tell him, you thought as your eyes met. Ned looks over to Peter.

“Yeah!” he replies, looking back to his pal, “It was just sitting in my locker. Luckily I had it on me today at this exact time.” He lets out another nervous laugh.

“I actually really like the look of it,” Peter says, admiring the bag, “I might use this as my book bag from now on.” That actually caught you by surprise. Did he like it that much? Hm, better not get careless with it, then you thought to yourself. Peter seems to then remember something, turning to you.

“Oh, (Y/N),” He starts, pulling the canvas bag through his arm and up to his shoulder, “I actually just met with Ms. Lee. She told me about the whole tutoring. thing.” You internally groaned. It was evident that you two would talk about that today, but not this early.

“She said she wanted us to meet today, right?” he asks, “Would it be okay if I could have your number?” You raised a brow at him. What the hell was he getting at?

“Why?” you asked, frowning.

“Oh,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “S-since we’re going to be working together it would be good if we had each other’s numbers. For scheduling and whatnot.” You closed your eyes and clenched your teeth. For long enough you’ve avoided having to have contact with this guy after school. Now, you would no longer be blessed with that privilege.

“Fine,” you said, begrudgingly. You swung your backpack to your chest and opened it, rummaging through it for your pencil pack. You found it and pulled a blue ballpoint pen from it, then swung it to the back once again

“Gimme your arm,” you said holding your hand out. He then held his arm close to his chest, giving you a wide-eyed, confused expression.

“W-why?” He asked. You gave him a look.

“I’d rather write it on your arm than a piece of paper so you don’t lose it,” you replied, “Once I gave my number to the president of the art club and she lost the paper, and then Flash found it and wouldn’t stop airdropping terrible memes from 2006.” That was the most annoying day of your life. You had to ask MJ to threaten him to stop because even when you blocked him he kept finding a way to send you stupid memes.

To this, he shrugged, understanding your reasoning. He pulled his blue sweater sleeve down to reveal his forearm, which you noticed was actually kind of fit. You moved it closer to him, grabbing his bare forearm gently and pulled it closer to you so you could write your cell phone number. You scribbled it horizontally, then once you were finished you pulled his sleeve down to cover it. The first warning bell of the day rings throughout the school, and you could see now that the hall was full of students, who began to shuffle past each other to get to their first-period class. The boys and you turned to look at each other.

“I’ll text you after school?” Peter says.

“Yeah,” you said, pulling your backpack straps up to your shoulder, “Let’s get to class.”

For the rest of the day, you were dreading the eventual meeting with Peter. During all of your classes together you desperately avoided talking to him as much as possible because you were so pissed at the idea of having to work with him. However, as the end of the school day wrapped up, you could not avoid him any longer. As you walked to your locker, you felt your phone vibrate and pulled it out of the pocket of your yellow windbreaker and saw that you received a text from an unknown number.

Hey, it’s Peter! it read, Let’s meet in the library. You let off a small huff and typed back k. You shoved your phone back into the pocket and trudged your way over to the library. Upon entering, you noticed that it was a bit crowded today but still remained moderately quiet (as libraries should be). Several students were huddled by the study tables, hunched over intently scribbling notes while others were at the computers, doing research for papers, or watching youtube videos. You scanned around for an empty study table that both you and Peter could occupy until you spotted one near the graphic novels section. You made your way over to it, plopping your backpack on one of the chairs to save for Peter.

Deciding to kill some time, you unzipped your red backpack and pulled out your sketchbook and pencil pack. Grabbing your mechanical pencil from the orange pouch, you flipped through your rugged hard-bound sketchbook to a blank page, where you then began to draw. You started to sketch those around you, like one student who was pretending to study but he was really watching Netflix on his phone, a girl that was coding on one of the computers, and the librarian, Mr. Fill. Soon you transitioned to drawing animals from the biology lab, like a starfish from the biology lab’s man-made tide pool, a garden eel named Pickles, the pink zebra beauty tarantula Zelda, and the corn snake Sir Elote II.

You then felt your mind drift and began to draw Spider-man, whom you’ve doodled more times than you can count. If anyone were to look through your sketchbook (which you let few do), they would find several pages full of sketches of the blue and red hero of Queens. To you, it was genuinely embarrassing how much you drew him. It was hard not to think about him when you had such a hard crush on him. You wondered what he would say if he knew you were drawing all of this fanart of him.

“Ooh, nice eel!” You heard a voice whisper to you. You looked up and saw Peter, who was looming over you as you drew in your sketchbook, making you jump a bit.

He takes your backpack from the chair beside you and sets it down beside you, then asks, “Does it have a name?”

“No…?” you answered as you watched him sit down beside you.

“Well,” he makes a goofy smile, “If you name it, its name should be Eel-i,” A silence hung over you as you looked at him, giving him the blankest look you have ever given anyone.

“G-get it?” his voice quivers, his smile wavering from your lack of response, “Like Eli?”

“I did,” you responded with a deadpan tone, “But that was probably the worst joke I have ever heard. And I work for a middle-aged dad.” His mouth pursed into a tight line and his ears went red, embarrassed at his horrible attempt of lightening the mood.

“So,” you let out a sigh, “have you ever tutored someone before?” “Nope,” he says, shaking his head in response as he tucked himself into the table, “What about you? Have you been tutored before?” You nodded in response. Back home you used to have a tutor in grade and middle school, who was actually your favorite teacher in the third grade. However, because of your dad seeing tutoring as a waste of money, you were forced to stop sessions when you went to high school, where he took on as a tutor. However, with your dad’s lack of patience, tutoring turned into a session in which he would criticize how slowly you understood the topics you were going over. At one point, it became too much for you, and you stopped asking for help with school-related subjects altogether.

“Great!” he exclaims, but in a controlled whisper as to not disrupt the students around him, “One of us has experience with this! So, I guess we should just go over what you’re having a hard time with.”

“Alright,” You put your elbow on the table and rested your head on the palm of your head, looking over at Peter, “Which subject are we talking about? Math or chemistry?”

“Uh,” Peter furrowed his brows in thought, “Chemistry? Since we had that quiz a couple of days ago.”

“I have a hard time with all of it.” You replied.

He blinks, a bit unsure of what to say. “U-uh, What do you mean by that?”

“It means what it means. I have a hard time with all of it. That’s why I’m in this position in the first place.”

“W-well, what part of the quiz did you have a hard time with? Maybe we can go over that today?”

“Hm,” you rubbed your chin in thought, digging into your brain trying to remember what was on that quiz since you tried to block it out of your memory. You thought for a few more seconds until you remembered something, then looked up at Peter and replied, “Well, bond energy got very confusing.”

“Great!” Peter exclaims, his eyes lighting up, “I mean, it’s not great that it was confusing for you, but great in the sense that we can start looking at that today.”

And so you did. Peter opened up the chemistry textbook and began to re-teach chemical bonds to you, despite both of you learning about them last week in class. Ten minutes in, you were able to pay some attention to what he was saying. However, twenty minutes in you started feeling your focus float away. You tried to grab at it like a piece of paper floating away in the wing, yet everything Peter was saying just went over your head. It didn’t really help that he kept saying “Right?” after stating something (“It depends on strength and interactions between cations and anions in lattice, right?”), and you just nodded in response even though you had no idea what the hell he was talking about. Thirty minutes passed and your focus completely turned off, and suddenly you could hear the sounds of keyboards being typed on, the scribbling of pens, and, oh shit, is that a fly in the library? Your focus had gone to anything else but Peter, who took notice when you wouldn’t respond to a question he asked you.

“Hey,” he turns to you with a concerned look in his hooded eyes, “You doing okay?” He put his hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daze.

“I-,” you looked over but averted your eyes away from him. You felt face heating up from embarrassment. Darn it, what’s wrong with you? Why was focusing on something such a task?!

“How about we take a break?” Peter suggests, closing the chemistry textbook and getting up and stretching his arms, “I’m going to grab something from the vending machine. Do you want anything?” You shook your head in response, then watched as he grabbed his wallet from the tote bag and headed out of the library. You let out a frustrated groan, which was a little too loud because it earned you a hush from Mr. Fill who just happened to pass by. You put your head in your hands, letting out a huff, and tried to figure out what was causing you to be like this right now.

As you thought back to the last thirty minutes, you realized that Peter was the one making the session so agonizingly dreadful. It felt like you were back in chemistry class all over again, and no offense to Mr. Cobwell but that wasn’t the most interesting class to you. Contemplating on everything that Peter was doing wrong, you also noted other faults such as his pacing while he , his assumption that you understand what he’s talking about, and his mundane voice that he used when he was explaining everything to you, making you want to fall asleep. You pressed your nails into your pals, newly-made fists shaking as your frustration with Parker grew. It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t keep up! It was his fault for being so bad at teaching you! You looked up and saw that Peter had returned, two water bottles in each hand.

He approached you and set one bottle in front of you, saying “Thought you might be thirsty,” He got you a water bottle from the vending machine? Huh...that’s odd, you think.

Without saying a word, you looked down at your insulated water bottle that was tucked in one of the side-pockets of your backpack. He followed your eyes and noticed this, and his eyes widened with realization. He whispered an “Oh” to himself, but you turned back to the plastic one and took it out of courtesy, saying you could use it as a refill as you placed it in your backpack. He apologizes and sits back down in his chair. You give him a hollow thank you, to which he seems pretty pleased by.

“Okay,” he begins with a nod, re-opening the textbook and turning to the chapter you guys were just going over, “U-um, was there something that you needed some clarification on?” All of it, you thought, but you felt like that would’ve not been the least bit helpful to him. Wanting to protect your ego and get the hell out of here, you just pointed to a random section on the page that read Hybrid orbitals. He looked to where you pointed and nodded.

He says, grabbing his pencil, “Let’s go over that again.” You held the urge to let out a groan. Time to suffer more! However, about twenty-five minutes in and you grew incredibly bored with Peter’s dull rambling. Your mind checked out and instead of paying attention, you began drawing circles instead of taking notes in your notebook, to which Peter noticed.

He put his pencil down and turned to you, asking “Hey (Y/N), You listening?” You jumped in surprise, looking up to see him catching you in the act. Without thinking you nodded, but he made an expression that thought otherwise.

“Right,” he then points with his pencil to a diagram on the textbook page, “Can you explain to me what this is?” You gazed down at what he was referring to, and your mind went blank. What on earth were you guys talking about again? The lack of sleep from last night had made you loopy and exhausted earlier than usual, making it hard to think straight. You tried your hardest to think of what the hell that could possibly be, but you couldn’t think of anything for the life of you.

“It’s...a bond?” you answered, looking up at him sheepishly.

“Okay…” he leaned forward a bit, “But...what kind of bond?”

“A…” You looked back at the diagram, then back at him, “Chemical one?”

“Yes,” he replied, but you could tell he was trying to get more out of you, “But it’s a special kind of chemical one. It’s a…?”

“Very special chemical bond,” you replied without thinking, and you wanted to kick yourself in the head for such a dumb answer. Peter blinks at you blankly.

“It’s a hybridized orbital,” he responds, “You weren’t paying attention.” You felt your face heat up. It’s one thing to not be paying attention a, but getting caught was so much worse

“S-sorry,” you said shyly, hunching over out of habit, “B-but it’s not my fault this stuff is so boring!”

“I get that it’s difficult to understand,” Peter assures you, leaning back in his chair, “But when something seems confusing, you need to tell me at the moment.” You frowned at him. Who was he to tell you what you do?

“Well sorry,” you sarcastically say as you crossed your arms in a huff, “It’s a bit difficult when the person you’re listening to is incredibly mundane.”

“Excuse me?” He turns to you, annoyed, “I asked you several times if you understood what we were talking about.”

“Yeah, but you kept assuming that I knew what you were blabbering about. You were going too fast, too. Not my fault I can’t keep up with you.”

“Then you should’ve told me to slow down!” he exclaims irritably, “I’m here to help you, not confuse you.” You let out a sarcastic laugh and. What was his problem?! Why was he getting annoyed at you? It’s not your fault you were telling the truth! He just can’t take criticism.

“Well, some help you are.” You looked over at him, “Can’t believe the smartest kid in our grade can’t figure out how to teach someone.” He clenched his jaw.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he says, trying to control his current aggravation, “But in order for me to help you, I need your feedback. If you had just said something-”

“You want feedback?” You raised your voice and turned to him, cutting him off, “I’ll give to you feedback! You’re boring to listen to, you have the talking pace of the Roadrunner, and you have the personality of a stalk of celery. You’re built like one, too.” Students around you began to stop what they were doing and watch the two of you make a scene in the library.

“What the hell is your problem with me?!” he asks irritably, “I’ve been trying to be nice to you since you got here, but all you do is treat me like shit. Even when I’m doing nothing you act maliciously towards me! What have I done to piss you off so much?”

“You exist.” you spit out angrily. A heavy silence hung over the both of you as you stared daggers at each other, the students around you holding their breaths in anticipating. However, you had enough of his stupidity, so you grabbed your notebook and backpack and stormed out of the library, ignoring the looks and whispers you were receiving from the students that were observing you. As you exited the room, you reached for your phone to text your mom that you were heading home. As you pulled it out of your pocket, it slipped from your fingers and bounced three times onto the school’s hallway until it ended with a cracking sound. You felt your heart clench in fear and rushed to go pick it up. A spew of cusses left your mouth as you saw three cracks upon the screen.

------

Annotations

*=GPA stands for Grade Point Average

#peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spider-man reader insert #MCU fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #peter parker reader insert #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #bad Ideas fic #tom holland #tom holland fanfic

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publisherfinds · 4 years ago

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10 Tips To Prepare CBSE 2021 Board Exams With Gurukul 15+1 Practice Papers - Like A Pro!

To help students excel in their Board Exams with flying colours, we stuck to the idea of “Seizing Perfection with Practice” and as a result launched our 15+1 practice papers based on the revised academic curriculum prescribed by CBSE for the 2021 Examinations.

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The previous year proved to be one of the toughest ones in this entire decade, yet we are happy that we were able to come over it friskily. Although one present problem left for us was with the preparation of exams for students. Parents, teachers, and students are still trying their best to resolve all the difficulties coming ahead of them, efficiently.

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We hope we will land on your expectations….

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eeraygun · 4 years ago

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Top 246 Sonic Releases of 2020

001. Perfume Genius - Set My Heart On Fire Immediately 002. Splash Pattern - Sentinel 003. Pontiac Streator - Triz 004. gayphextwin & Pépe - gayphextwin / Pépe EP 005. Various Artists - SLINK Volume 1 006. Echium - Disruptions of Form 007. Henry Greenleaf - Caught 008. Sega Bodega - Reestablishing Connection 009. Summer Walker - Life on Earth 010. Charli XCX - how i'm feeling now 011. Various Artists - Physically Sick 3 012. Autechre - Sign 013. Off The Meds - Off The Meds 014. Brent Faiyaz - Fuck The World 015. Luis Pestana - Rosa Pano 016. Reinartz - Ravecoil 017. pent - - 018. Mark Leckey - In This Lingering Twilight Sparkle 019. Various Artists - Sharpen, Moving 020. Vanessa Worm - Vanessa 77 021. Aho Ssan - Simulacrum 022. Lyra Pramuk - Fountain 023. PJ Harvey - Dry Demos 024. Felicia Atkinson - Echo 025. Arca - KiCK i 026. Space Afrika - hybtwibt 027. Ambien Baby - Mindkiss 028. The Gasman - Voyage 029. Inigo Kennedy - Arcadian Falls 030. Raft of Trash - Likeness on the Edge of Town 031. OL - Wildlife Processing 032. Fyu-Jon - Furrow 033. Desire Marea - Desire 034. Octo Octa - Love Hypnosis Vol. 1 035. Phoebe Bridgers - Punisher 036. Jesse Osborne-Lanthier - Left My Brain @ Can Paixano (La Xampanyeria) OST 037. Various Artists - She's More Wild 038. Various Artists - Days Of Future Past [White Material] 039. Foul Play - Origins 040. Late Night Approach - The Naus Investigation 041. Amazondotcom & Siete Catorce - Vague Currency 042. Davis Galvin - Ntih / Icia 043. Patiño - Actually Laughing Out Loud 044. Various Artists - 2nd Anniversary Compilation [All Centre] 045. St-Antoine, Feu - L'eau Par La Soif 046. Xozgk - skllpt 047. Various Artists - The Sun is Setting on the World 048. DJ Python - Mas Amable 049. Peter Van Hoesen - Chapter for the Agnostic 050. Tracing Xircles - Air Lock 051. Ben & Jerry - Formant Fry 052. still house plants - Fast Edit 053. D-Leria - Still Standing 054. Florian T M Zeisig - Coatcheck 055. Hanne Lippard - Work 056. Shedbug & Rudolf C - Honey Mushrooms II 057. Carl Stone - Stolen Car 058. Ruth Anderson - Here 059. Sid Quirk - Ginnel Talk 060. Various Artists - Fluo I [Kindergarten Records] 061. Pump Media Unlimited - Change 062. VC-118A - Crunch / Plonk 063. Beatriz Ferreyra - Echos+ 064. Bearer - Precincts 065. PARSA - PAƬCHƜȜRKZ 1 066. Holly Childs & Gediminas Žygus - Hydrangea 067. Cosmin TRG - Remote 068. Obsequies - Carcass 069. Jake Muir - the hum of your veiled voice 070. No Moon - Set Phasers to Stun 071. Olli Aarni - Mustikoita ja kissankelloja 072. E-Unity - Duo Road EP 073. Benedek - Mr. Goods 074. Extinction Room - Extinction Stories 075. Hodge - Shadows In Blue 076. Various Artists - Tiny Planet Vol. 2 077. Floco Floco - On m'a dit 078. Breather - Ceremonies Of Aporia 079. Unknown Mobile - Leafy Edits Vol. 2 080. Wetman & Sword of Thorns - Apt E Vol 2 081. Borderlandstate_ the Best Kisser in L.A. - Hello Mainframe 082. Kiera Mulhern - De ossibus 20 083. Mads Kjeldgaard - Hold Time 084. Тпсб - Whities 031 EP 085. Network Glass - Twitch 086. a2a - A2A¹ EP 087. Wata Igarashi - Traveling 088. Joey G II - Pub Talk 089. Atom™ - <3 090. Valentina Magaletti & Marlene Ribeiro - Due Matte 091. Ewan Jansen - Island Diary 092. HOOVER1 - HOOVER1-4 093. Nazar - Guerrilla 094. Paradise Cinema - Paradise Cinema 095. Daisies - Daisies in the Studio with DJ Rap Class 096. Alloy Sea - Petrichor 097. Flørist - Intermedia 1 EP 098. Nandele - FF 099. Pro.tone - Zero Day Attack 100. Michael J. Blood - Introducing Michael J Blood 101. Various Artists - RV Trax, Vol. 5 102. DJ Plead - Going for It EP 103. Strategy - The Babbling Brook 104. Various Artists - surf000 105. Deft - Burna 106. Various Artists - WorldWideWindow 107. Lucy Liyou - Welfare 108. O-Wells - Ebecs 109. Special Request - Spectral Frequency EP 110. Anunaku - Stargate 111. Scott Young - Ket City 112. Various Artists - Stir Crazy Vol.1 113. Syz - Bunzunkunzun 114. Oozy Zoo - Sabertooth 115. Vanessa Amara - Poses 116. Carl Finlow - Apparatus 117. Al Wootton - Snake Dance EP 118. Oi Les Ox - Crooner qui coule sous les clous 119. aircode - Effortless 120. Tristan Arp - Slip 121. Andrea - Ritorno 122. Russell Ellington Langston Butler - Emotional Bangers Only 123. The Lone Flanger - The Photon's Path 124. SHelley Parker & Peder Mannerfelt - Decouple ]( Series 125. Esplendor Geometrica - Cinética 126. Casey MQ - babycasey 127. Gacha Bakradze - Western Arrogance 128. Fatherhood - Big Boy 129. Blawan - Make A Goose 130. Roza Terenzi, Roza - Modern Bliss 131. AceMo - SYSTEM OVERRIDE 132. Meitei - Kofū 133. Penelope Trappes - Eel Drip 134. Adult Fantasies - Towers of Silence 135. Plush Managements Inc. - Magic Plush 136. Further Reductions - array 137. Ben Bondy & Exael - Aphelion Lash 138. Pugilist - Blue Planet EP 139. Dylan Henner - The Invention of the Human 140. Cindy - I'm Cindy 141. Ulla - Tumbling Towards a Wall 142. EMMA DJ - PZSÅRIASISZSZ TAPE 143. BufoBufo - Potholing 144. Model Home - Live 5-12-20 145. Low Budget Aliens - Junk DNA 146. Paranoid London - PLEDITS#2 147. Emra Grid - A System A Platform A Voiid 148. J. Albert - Pre Formal Audio 149. Dawl - Break It Down 150. Oall Hates - Tranceporter 151. Mystic Letter K - Cosmic Clearance [MLK4, 2020] 152. Coco Bryce - Lost City Archives Vol 2 153. Hagan - Waves 154. Various Artists - ON+ON+ON 155. INVT - EXTREMA 156. C Powers - Redirections Vol. 1 157. Significant Other - Club Aura 158. Client_03 - Thought disposal 159. Ghost Phone - LOCKDOWN BODY EDITS 160. Two Shell - N35 161. Rhyw - Loom High 162. EAMS - Demode 163. Various Artists - Woozy001 164. Society Of Silence – Réalisme Viscéral 165. HVL - Alignment 166. Alan Johnson - Material World 167. Matthew D Gantt - Diagnostics 168. DJ Detox - RM12009 169. Critical Amnesia - Critical Amnesia 170. Neinzer - Whities 025 EP 171. Despina & Ma Sha Ru - Polychronia 172. Divide - Computer Music 173. URA - Blue [NAFF008, 2020] 174. Forest Drive West - Terminus EP 175. Glacci - Alzarin _ Lavvender Rush 176. Fergus Sweetland - Fergus Sweetland 177. Various Artists - C12 - Social Distancing 1.1 178. A-Sim - The Puppet Master 179. Chlär - Power to the Soul 180. Will Hofbauer - Where Did All The Hay Go 181. Protect-U - In Harmony Of An Interior World 182. Instinct & 0113 - Instinct 11 183. Ribbon Stage - My Favorite Shrine 184. Zenker Brothers - Mad System 185. 2Lanes - Baby's Born To Fish... - Impish Desires 186. Nebulo - Parallaxes 187. Martyn Bootyspoon - Lickety Split 188. Erik Griswold - All's Grist That Comes To The Mill 189. Alex Falk - Movefast 190. DJ SWISHA & Kanyon - Club Simulator EP 191. Happa - Ls14 Battler _ 36Th Chamberlain (Remixes) 192. Svreca - FRUE 193. Anz - Loos In Twos (NRG) 194. James King - rinsed - installed 195. Catartsis & Ōtone - Mechanical Gesture 196. Daniel J. Gregory - Life Is A Bin 197. Desert Sound Colony - Pulled Through The Wormhole EP 198. Floral Resources - TS00000? 199. Alex R - Last Attempt 200. Notzing - The Abuse Of Hypnosis In Dance Environments 201. Brain Rays & Quiet - Butter [SR081A, 2020] 202. Benjamin Damage - Deep Space Transit 203. BROSHUDA - Contemplative Figuration 204. Various Artists - Radiant Love IWD Comp 205. Paradise 3001 - Low Sun Archives 206. 011668 & S280F - Os 207. Kubota, Kazuma - Mind 208. HATENA - HANDZ 209. Leonce - Seconds & Fifths EP 210. Furtive - Sympathies IV 211. French II - Time / Tracker 212. qwizzz - slag ep 213. Gag Reflex - The Fae 214. Luca Lozano & Mr. Ho - Homeboys 215. CONCEPTUAL - Introspective Research 216. Xyla - Ways 217. Minor Science - Second Language 218. Fana - Karantina 219. Current Obsession - XXX 220. K. Frimpong & Super Complex Sounds - Ahyewa 221. Ali Berger - The Stew 222. Sleep D - Smoke Haze 223. Nick León - MAZE 224. DJ Delish - Khadijah Vol. 6 225. Sputnik One - Kerosene 226. OOBE - SFTCR 2 227. Burrell Connection - Breaks That Strung the Camel Back 228. Wayne Phoenix - Soaring Wayne Phoenix Story The Earth 229. D.Dan - Mutant Future 230. Distance Dancer - Distance Dancer 231. Nikki Nair - Number One Slugger 232. Vinicius Honorio - Metamorphosis 233. Tracey - Microdancer EP 234. Ntu - Perfect Blue 235. Bliss Inc. - Hacking The Planet 236. JLTZ - Tools From Another Mother 237. Omnipony - GHOST1 238. WTCHCRFT - ACID EP vol. 2 239. Mike - Weight Of The World 240. Hypnaton - Hypnaton 241. Granary 12 - High 1987 242. Elisa Bee - Orbit EP 243. Stones Taro - Pump EP 244. Alexis - Refractions 245. Ntel - The Dilution Effect 246. X.WILSON - YUK

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wantstoflyafraidtofall · 5 years ago

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Chapter 2: New Old Thoughts

***TRIGGER WARNING*** Mentions of homophobia/homophobic language and past self harm

---

Dean wakes up in a cold sweat yet again. The black shadow he saw thought he saw plagued his dreams every night since he's been there. Which was odd. He usually doesn't dream at all.

He rolled out of bed and peeled off his boxers and shirt, both damp with sweat, and turned on the shower.

The warm water -- with amazing water pressure, dare he say -- soothed his nerves. He would have to search up if frequent nightmares were normal for people moving into new houses later.

After getting dried off and dressed, Dean went downstairs and turned on his old coffee machine. He watched the dark coffee drip down into the pot.

The deadline for unpacking really helped speed up the whole process and the amount of sleep he was getting helped to.

By what Sam had said about Cas, he sounds ok. Just a quiet guy who's fresh out of college and needs a place to stay for a bit.

Dean had finished unpacking the rest of the boxes yesterday. He had saved the library for last and the whole time his knee was a bitch. But he had to say, now that it’s done, It looks really nice.

He poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot and went out into the large, mostly empty sunroom. He was going to have to get some furniture to fill all the floor space so they could sit and read or watch TV in here. Maybe a bean bag and a couch.

The morning sun shone brightly through the windows of the room, casting soft shadows in corners and the shelves. The backyard was really nice and big but over grown. The stones in the fire pit had weeds growing out the cracks and the fish pond would kill any fish that would dare swim in it. The grass was almost knee length and would be a complete bitch to mow. Maybe he could get Cas to do it. Complain about his knee hurting or something.

Dean went back in the kitchen and poured himself a second cup of coffee. He checked his watch, 9:34am. Sam had told him Cas would be there around 10:30, which left Dean almost a full hour to do whatever he wanted.

He does enjoy his time alone but is quite excited for a housemate. He would never admit it to anyone but the house was getting a bit lonely and now that he has everything unpacked, he would guess it would be boring as well.

Bubbles covered Dean's hands as he washed the few dishes remaining in the sink. He wanted to make a good first impression on Cas by having the house clean and was using it as a pass time to cool his nerves.

He’d just put the last plate in the cabinet when the doorbell rang. Dean quickly walked over to the door, running his fingers through his hair before opening it.

Dean was surprised at the man he saw standing outside. He was wearing a tan trench coat over an ill fitting suit with a messily done blue tie. His hair was dark and messy, as if he had just rolled out of bed. A 5 o’clock shadow adorned his sharp jaw. Dean’s eyes moved up his face, and met a pair of eyes that were more blue than the deepest parts of a sunny sky.

Cas cleared his throat before asking, “Are you Dean Winchester?”

Man, that voice . It was deep and sounded as if he had been gurgling gravel every day since he was 12. Dean quit his staring and smiled at Cas.

“Yup, that's me,” Dean beamed, “And you must be Cas.”

Cas squinted a little harder and tilted his head slightly to the side at the use of the nickname.

Dean took a step back, opening the door wide. “Come on in, you have 3 choices in rooms but I recommend up the left stairs at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you.” Cas said as he passed Dean and began walking towards the stairs, his suitcase rolling behind him. The man glanced around as he walked, carefully observing the wooden structure of the house.

Dean closed the door and went into the library and grabbed Soul Enchilada off his shelf of favorites. He laid out on an old love-seat in front of one of the windows and began to try and read.

He read a few lines before starting over. His mind was wandering elsewhere, to his handsome new housemate that would be living with him for who knows how long, how that deep, rumbly voice had said his name earlier, eyes of azure, streaked with cruelan and sky blue.

He thought back to how when he met those eyes, they seemed to stare deep into his soul. The small twinge of annoyance when Dean had used the nickname ‘Cas’ and how he had tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, his plush, lightly chapped lips barely parted. They looked so soft, so kissable. It would have been so easy to have just- NO.

Dean caught his slipping thoughts. Internally scolding himself for not only falling for his new housemate, but a guy.

After closing the book and placing it back on the shelf, Dean went upstairs to his room, into the bathroom, and locked the door behind him. He lifted his arms in front of him, using his right hand he nudged the sleeve of his flannel back and felt his thumb drag over the small, criss-crossing scars on his forearm.

He released a shuddering breath. He is such a disappointment to his father. It was wrong for him to love another guy and no matter what he did he couldn't stop. No matter how many times Dad had taken out his anger on his “disgusting faggot of a son” he couldn't stop the thoughts.

Dean pulled his sleeve back down and looked into his own green eyes in the mirror. He could almost hear Sam's voice saying it with him as he whispered to himself, “Dad was a bastard and a terrible father. You can love whoever you want, Dean, It’s ok.”

Dean had been so careful to hide the scars from Sammy, but one day at Bobby’s place he had his sleeves pulled up to his elbows so he had better access inside the car and little, 13 year-old Sam saw the scars and asked what they were about.

It wasn't until a few months before Dean was leaving for the military that he had told Sam why he had those scars. And Sam just hugged him and told him that it was ok and that he would always love him. Damn, he loves that kid.

Dean sighed. No hitting on hot roommate dude. He could be straight and Dean isn't going to 1) Make him uncomfortable while he stays here, and 2) Get in a relationship with… well, anyone. Not like anyone wants to be in a relationship with someone as broken as him anyway.

When Dean made his way back downstairs, he saw Cas standing in the library examining the books with curiosity.

“Hey Cas,” The sound of Dean’s voice caused the man to turn towards him, “I'm going to go on a grocery run. Is there anything you want?”

He stared at Dean for a moment before replying, “The ingredients for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches is all, Thanks.”

Dean chuckled, “You know, you're out of college now, you can eat some actual food.”

“I'm not a good cook in the slightest and I'm sure I will like some of the stuff you buy.”

“K then, see you later.” Dean grumbled, grabbing his keys and closing the heavy front door hard behind him.

He walked down the steps and started Baby, Bon Jovi’s Wanted Dead or Alive pouring out the speakers. Dean turned up the music and drove down the driveway.

The trip to the store was short and uneventful. He grabbed the stuff Cas asked for along with some stuff to make dinner for the next week(He also got some greens because Sammy would give him another 3 hour lecture on his diet if he didn’t).

Kevin was working again today, somehow looking even more bored than last time. He scanned Dean's groceries while Dean asked about what classes he was taking.

Kevin had told him he was going to be a freshman and was studying computer sciences so he could make enough money to support himself and help support his mom.

Dean said goodbye to Kevin and loaded his groceries into Baby's trunk. The ride home was smooth and fast. Cas was nowhere in sight when he got home and Dean guessed he was probably in his room.

After unloading all the groceries, Dean pulled out two plates and began making lunch. He decided to keep it simple with some PB&Js and some potato chips. He put Cas’s plate on the island with a glass of water and made his way up the stairs to his door.

He knocked on the wood. “Hey Cas, I made some lunch for ya. It’s in the kitchen if you want it.”

There was no reply but he heard a faint shuffle of movement on the other side of the door. Dean went back downstairs and took his plate outside to the small shed in the backyard. The door was unlocked and swung open when Dean pushed.

Inside there was an old workbench pushed against the back wall. Gardening tools hung on hooks drilled into the wall and a slightly rusty lawn mower sat in the corner. He brushed some dust off the workbench and placed his lunch on the wood before checking out the mower.

It looked functional but in need of some repairs. Nothing that Dean couldn't fix himself with the right tools. He checked the drawers of the workbench and found the things he needed to fix the mower and began to work, eating his sandwich as he did.

Dean was so focused on sharpening the lawn mowers blades that he didn't hear Cas’s footsteps approaching from behind.

“Dean?” Cas called?

Dean jumped, startled by the sudden noise.

“Sorry for startling you Dean. I wanted to thank you for lunch.”

“Yeah, no problem buddy.” Dean replied, “I'm making chicken for dinner tonight if that's good with you.”

“Yes that's fine. Thank you.”

Cas left and Dean finished sharpening the lawn mower blades, leaving them on the workbench to attach tomorrow. He picked up his empty plate and headed back inside and dropped it in the sink.

Dean took a package of chicken breasts out of the fridge and placed them in a bowl. About 10 minutes later, the chicken was breaded and in the oven and he began to prepare the potato salad.

He loved to cook. When he was young, his father would drag Sammy and him from motel to motel. All they ate was take out or greasy diner food. Dean does love some good greasy burger and fries and a beer every once in a while but nice home cooked meals were always better.

Once Bobby took them away from John and his abusive parenting style, Dean learned to cook his own food in an actual kitchen. He would wake up early to make breakfast and insist on making lunch and dinner as well.

Dean pulled the chicken out of the oven and set some plates on the counter. He jogged up the stairs to Cas’s door, careful to be light on his bad knee, and knocked.

“Dinners ready!” He said before making his way back to the kitchen and filling up his plate with potato salad and sweet corn. He could hear Cas enter the kitchen and grab the other plate.

“It looks great, Dean,” Cas observed, “Thanks again.”

Dean set his plate down on the table and grabbed some cups from the cabinet before replying, “Yeah, it’s no problem, really. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Just water please. I haven't had anyone cook a proper meal for me since high school and I could never make one for myself due to my inability not to burn the food.”

Dean chuckled, “After my mom passed I didn't get a good meal till I was around 15, and those I would make myself.”

Cas stared at him, “Oh, I’m sorry.” He took the water Dean held out to him.

“Nah man, it’s fine. It was a long time ago.”

They continued to eat in silence for a while till Cas asked Dean, “You were only given 3 days notice that I was coming, yet you have the entire house unpacked and cleaned.”

“I, uh, didn’t sleep much. I wasn’t sleeping well so I made the best of a bad situation and used the time I was awake to finish unpacking.”

They both finished their meal in silence. Dean placed his dishes in the sink and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He sat back down at the table and looked over at Cas.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself.”

Cas’s blue eyes meet Deans. “I am 23 years old. I have an English major and plan on becoming a journalist. I have 6 siblings, 4 brothers and 2 sisters. I grew up in Colorado but moved to California for college, where I met your brother.”

“Hold on. You have 6 Siblings?” Dean gaped

“Yes, Dean. Micheal, Lucifer, Uriel, Gabriel, and Naomi are older and Anna is younger than me.”

“Man sibling rivalry must have been intense.”

“Our arguments were like war backed with all of heaven's wrath.”

Dean bursted out in laughter at that and took another drink of his beer. Cas stared at him with that adorable little head tilt squinting at him as if confused by Dean laughter.

“What about you?” Cas asked

Dean stopped laughing and looked at Cas, “My name is Dean Winchester. I am an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women,”Cas stared at him for a moment before Dean continued, “My mom passed when I was 4. I lived with my Dad if you could call what we did living for about 10 years until I was taken in by Bobby and Ellen. I worked as a mechanic with Bobby while Sam went to college until I decided to go to the military. I was there for 5 years until my knee got messed up and I was sent home.”

“Sorry, that must be horrible.”

“Nah man, it's fine. You get used to it and move on.”

“Is excessive drinking part of moving on?”

Dean stopped smiling and looked away from Cas. They sat in silence for a moment before Dean said, “Well I'm a bit tired, gonna head to bed.”

“Ok, Goodnight, Dean. I will clean up.”

He stood and left the kitchen. He was looking angrily at the ground in front of him as he went up the stairs. He didn't look up until he heard a quiet hissing in front of him.

The blood rushed out of his face and fear coiled in his stomach. It was back. The dark shadow was standing in the middle of the balcony. Dean couldn't get his legs to move. He was stuck. The shadow began to slowly glide towards him, reaching out a long arm-like appendage. He wanted to shout, to cry out for help but his mouth was just as stuck as his legs.

A rush of frigid air washed over him as it drew nearer. The black tendrils of its translucent arm reaching to his side, like it was going to push him over the railing.

“Dean, do you have any tupperware for the extra food?” Cas called from the kitchen.

Dean blinked and the shadow was gone. He shivered as the air began to warm up around him. Dean cleared his throat before replying “In the drawer by the fridge.” He ignored the slight shake in his voice.

When he tried to take a step forward, his feet moved like nothing had happened just seconds before. Dean went into his room and locked the door behind him.

Sleep. That's what he needs. He's just tired and that's making him see things. Everything will be fine tomorrow.

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