engineering textbooks

This not-so-short-anymore story is dedicated to @charminglyantiquated and her magnificent @elsewhereuniversity comic which has exploded all over my brain.

Read chapter two here!

Nobody ever parks in Lot C after dark.

It’s not because of the Beast. It’s because Lot C is in the very back of campus, way too far from Everything of Importance. You’d have to walk a quarter mile before you reached anywhere that sells coffee, almost a mile to the library. The nearest structure is a low sprawl of administrative buildings, but even they don’t park in Lot C after dark. They come to work early, and leave before sunset.

It was a bitch to get my meal card replaced when I’d lost it. They kept shutting down that stretch of slumped old admin offices before I’d finished with my afternoon Physics Lab. My lab partner would laugh at me.

“You’ll have to eat out of the trash again. Poor Moonie. Soon enough you’ll turn into a raccoon,” she would coo at me, an unattractive smirk wrinkling her nose.

I didn’t like the way she said it. I didn’t like a lot of things she said. Sometimes I felt like she wished bad things to happen to me, just so she could snicker at my misfortune. I think it was her smile that did it. Whenever she smiled, I got the feeling she knew something that I didn’t. She liked it that way.

I didn’t mind it too much. The one thing she didn’t know was Physics.

Keep reading

The Bold Ones [Part 1]

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: Hi there! This is my first piece of writing on here ever, so I am super nervous and excited. This is gonna be a 5 part-ish story that involves some cute couple stuff, political scandal, and some freakin’ violence. I hope you enjoy. I am sorry if this is kinda rough :-) Please, give me feedback, if you feel comfortable!

Warnings: Swearing and saying God’s name in vain sometimes (sorry if this offends you)

(Not my photo)

Part 1-

Deionization. Electrical Conductivity. Sodium. Calcium. Iron. Copp-

God! Can this kid just shut up already?

It was the 4th day of the new school year at Midtown High  and your chemistry class was already in the middle of summer project presentations. Every head in the room relied on their elbow and hand to keep from falling into a noticeable slumber, revealing to the teacher that surprisingly, New York’s brightest science students did not care one bit about their own, and especially, someone else’s Chemistry project. You could feel your eyelids getting heavier and heavier, your head drifting downwards, and your back muscles relaxing until-

“[Y/N]!” Your eyes shot open to the noise of a sharp whisper, and you playfully glared at the beautiful, petite blonde that was sitting next to you. Your best friend, Betty Brant. You rubbed your eyes and started to tie up all of your hair into a ponytail, giving Betty a sleepy grin.

“What?” you mouthed to her, becoming fully aware of the silence in the classroom. You were pleased to notice that the monotone and pretentious classmate was finally done with his presentation, and none of the students in the class bothered to clap or give any acknowledgement to his work. “I told you to never wake me up from my naps! Unless, it’s an emergency,” you joked in a low whisper.

Betty leaned closer to you with a huge smirk on her face. “I know! That’s why I did the evil deed.” She tapped your arm with her pencil eraser and darted her eyes towards the front of the room. You gave her a curious look and followed the direction of her eyes. Standing in front of the room was the next presenter, Peter Parker.

You could feel your heart beating faster and faster as you listened to him talk about Thermodynamics and observed the blooming grin on his face as he got deeper into his presentation. It was clear he was passionate about this topic. He was in love with Chemistry, and that’s why you swooned over him. His enthusiasm and excitement was just adorable. Not to mention that he was adorable himself. His perfect, shiny teeth could blind onlookers, his messy, curly brown hair fell perfectly, and his muscles. God, his muscles.

“Ow!” you shot under your breath. You turned to face Betty and glared at her once more, but this time it wasn’t playful. She broke you out of your Peter trance. “What did you do that for?” Grasping your arm, you realized that she had pinched you. Hard.

“Could you be more obvious, [Y/N]? You were practically drooling during his whole presentation. Not to mention, you were the only one, may I repeat, the only one who laughed at his Chemistry puns. You gotta learn how to be more secretive. Jeez.” She finished with a low chuckle and gathered all of her books and pencils. “Try to behave yourself while I’m gone. I’ll see you at lunch” And as if on cue, the bell rang and she got up from her seat while giving you a wink.

You let out a long sigh and threw your backpack over your shoulder, getting up from your lab table and heading to your next class. Luckily for you, your next class was your favorite- American Government and Politics. This is what you lived for. Your father was a very popular campaign manager and ever since you were little, you were heavily involved in politics. In fact, the reason why you lived in Queens, NY was because a political underdog, Brenton Phillips, hired your father to be his campaign manager for the upcoming Senatorial election. Ever since your Junior year, you worked along side your father and the whole Phillips campaign, hoping for his success. But you knew that with your father’s guidance, Phillips would not fail. However, moving to Queens and starting a brand new high school Junior year was not easy for you in the beginning. It wasn’t until you signed up for Midtown’s school news team you found someone you could rely on. Betty. She was your saving grace. She introduced you to all of her friends and they gladly accepted you into their group, but you and Betty had a very special connection that could not be matched with the others.

You had your girl friends. You had your guy friends. But, you didn’t have a boyfriend. This didn’t bother you one bit. When you first moved to Queens, you didn’t find any of the boys attractive and intelligent enough. But then, summer of Junior year happened.

You landed a job at the local library and one of the daily customers caught your eye. He was beautiful. You watched him as he always strolled past the Fiction section and headed straight towards the Science section. He gathered books on Computer Programming, Engineering, and different types of chemical mixtures, and he would always return the books the next day, completely read. As you checked out his books for him, you could feel him looking at you. This made you turn a shade of deep red, so you made sure to keep your head down toward the book’s barcodes, attempting to hide your color from his melty, brown eyes. You two never made long conversation. You both were too nervous, but when you gave him all of his newly checked-out books, he gave you a shaky smile and offered you gummy worms. Of course, you would smile back and always pick out two red and blue worms. Sometimes, your hands would touch or brush up against each other when you reached. Every time this happened, you could have sworn you felt sparks.

Yes, this boy was Peter Parker.

“Oh! Hey there, Penis Parker! Are those books too heavy for you? They are? Well, let me give you a hand!” Flash Thompson, the school’s biggest asshole, glared at Peter and completely punched all of the books out of Peter’s arms. He let out an evil snicker and walked on, kicking one of Peter’s textbooks on the way.

“Motherfucker,” you whispered under your breath as you quickly made your way towards Peter. As you bent down, you almost fell forward because of the heavy weight of your backpack, but you caught yourself and got your hands on two of Peter’s books. You both started to straighten up at the same time and Peter began to turn his face towards you.

“Thank you so muc-” Peter stood there frozen, like a deer in headlights. It’s her! It’s her! He thought to himself. Be cool, Peter. Be cool. Don’t mess this up. Come on, it’s your senior year be a little more courageous for once. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Oh, shit. SHIT! He panicked in his mind. Why am I not working?

As he stood there frozen, you could see he was not okay. To save him from his internal conflict he was clearly having, you decided to break the silence.

“Hi, Peter!” Giving him your sweetest smile, you held out his Engineering textbook and waited for him to take it. “I loved your Chemistry presentation today.”

Peter gulped. “Y-you know my name?” With his viciously shaking right hand, he gently took his textbook from you and softly tucked it underneath his armpit. In a nervous manner, he ran his fingers through his curly hair and could feel his sweat. Oh, hell! He quickly pulled his hand away from his hair and very secretly, wiped his wet hand onto his pants.

Mesmerized by his actions and handsome self, you slowly cocked your head to the side and a soft smile crossed your face. “Of course I do.” You began to hug his other textbook. “Do you know my name?” you asked, giving him a playfully curious look.

Peter pulled his Engineering textbook to his chest with a grin and began to hug it as well. There was something about you, your personality and beautiful smile, that made Peter serene in that very moment. All of his nerves suddenly flooded away and he said: “Of course, [Y/N].” As another smile began to grow on his face, he bit his bottom lip.

Your eyes popped out of your head and you looked down at the ground in disappointment. “Oh… well, uh… actually… my name is Molly”. When you looked up, all you could see was the look of horror on Peter’s face. His rosy, pink color was completely flushed and was replaced with the color of a ghost. He began to rapidly shake his head in disapproval of himself. “I am SO sor-”

“Peter, I was just kidding! You were correct the first time.” You let out a small laugh and playfully shoved his textbook you were holding into his chest. Peter’s look of horror was immediately replaced with a look of relief. As he slightly stumbled backwards from your shove, he grasped the textbook and let out a chuckle.

“That would have been so awkward. Do me a favor and never do that to me again, okay? I almost had a heart attack.” You smiled at his reply, nodded, and nudged your head forward, giving him the signal to walk through the halls with you.

Peter couldn’t believe he was interacting with you. Every day over the summer, he would go to the library just to see you and dream of talking to you for more than 2 seconds. While you worked, he observed the way your beautiful hair would fall towards your face and how you quickly tucked it behind your ear. He observed the way you would bite your lip every time there was an error on the computer. He wanted to touch your face, your hair, your lips. Peter didn’t even read the books he checked out half of the time, he just wanted to check you out.

“I think you’re really pretty,” Peter blurted out as you both were walking. But since he was slurring his words in nervousness, it just sounded like “Itankyouralopolty.” In addition, you asked him a question at the same time, making his sentence even more incomprehensible. You turned around to face him and let out a giggle. “What did you just say?” you asked, tugging on your backpack straps.

“N-nothing! What did you just say?”

Here it was. The big question.

“W-well. I was wondering if you would be interested in…”

Peter could feel his ears burning up. Is she going to ask me out?

“Working for Brenton Phillips?”

Of course not! Peter thought. There’s no way a guy like me can be with a girl like her. You’re silly for even thinking that, Peter!

“I see your photos in the Daily Bugle all the time, and they’re absolutely amazing! My dad is looking for an intern to take photos of Phillips that boost his image, you know? He really needs more support! We would go to all the events and-”

“We?” Peter asked, like that was the most important part of your speech.

“Yes! I work for him as well, and I kind of just do whatever my Dad wants me to. I go to all the events and even write articles sometimes. I know you’re so busy with the Stark internship but-”

“I’ll do it!” he shouted with a huge smile. Getting to spend time with you? Hell ya, he’ll do it! “I’ll do it!” he repeated once more, running his fingers through his hair. A gigantic grin blossomed on your face and you reached for his hand, gently squeezing it in excitement once you got ahold.

“Oh, that’s amazing!” you squealed. “Tonight, we are having a volunteer event at the Ronald McDonald House on 3rd Avenue. Come and bring your camera!” You finally reached your destination, so you gave one last smile and hand-squeeze to Peter, leaving him alone in the hallway.

You were ecstatic. This meant you and Peter were going to spend over 2 hours a day with each other outside of school. This was a dream come true. On the other hand, Peter just realized what he committed to. Another job? Oh, God. How could he possibly do this and protect all of the citizens of  New York? Well, he had to figure something out. There was no way he was going to give up this opportunity: getting closer to you and the chance to impress your father. A one way ticket to a relationship, right? He looked down at his hand that you squeezed and could still feel your warmth on his skin. He smiled once more and longed for your hands to be touching again. As the bell rang, he panicked when he realized he was standing in the middle of a hallway and no where near his next class, but then, another frightening thought crossed his mind:

He doesn’t know shit about politics.

September 9, 2017
🌸2/100 days of productivity🌸

Hi! I didn’t get too much done today, just revision of my notes and some more notes from the textbook for Computer Science. Tomorrow I’m going to do my Physics work☺️

Here’s your daily reminder to do your best, and to do it now!!

xo, kissmelaterimstudying🌸

Trust Fund

Word Count: 3868
Tags: @yourtropegirl Tony Stark tags: @shewhorunswithfandoms, @flirtswithdanger, @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife
Author’s Note: This is for @yourtropegirl‘s 1000 follower celebration - I took College AU with Tony Stark. 

“Are you sure you won’t come out?” Tabby, your roommate, was doing her best puppy dog eyes at you, trying to convince you to join her at what she claimed was going to be the party of the semester at the Delta Kappa Nu frat.

“Huge exam Monday. I’m gonna hit the lab and make sure I’m on track. I can party later,” you shrugged.

“I somehow doubt there’s a lot of partying in the Engineering set. All you ever seem to do is study,” Tabby snorted.

“Engineering taught Delta Kappa Nu how to party,” you countered, rolling your eyes. “But there’s a time and place, and midterms week is a stupid time to plan for a huge party. Maybe the week after midterms.”

“Long story short, you aren’t coming out,” Tabby sighed.

“True story,” you nodded, collecting your books and heading to the lab.

Keep reading

September 12, 2017
🌸5/100 days of productivity🌸

Today was a reaaaaally boring day and I hate to say that. I only got one new lesson and the rest were reviews from about 3 years ago. (I’m also still salty I didn’t get credit from my AP English exam lol) I’m pretty sure the work load is going to explode in about a week and I’m stressed about becoming stressed😅 Anyways, hope with me that this week becomes interesting!

I need some mutuals so if you follow me I’ll follow back❤️

xo, kissmelaterimstudying🌸

anonymous asked:

Can you have the companions react to the sole survivor going to a library? What would the companions read/do, etc.

Around the Commonwealth, there’s a handful of Pre-War libraries that haven’t been destroyed by water or violence. Sole goes into one, leaving the companions to marvel at their surroundings.

Cait: “Whoa… what’s this?” She pulls out a book, thumbing through the pages. “It’s a buncha squiggly lines is what it is,” she mumbles, and place it back on the shelf. At Sole’s prodding, she reveals that she has trouble reading. It’s why she prefers comic books; the reading is light and there’s lots of pictures. She gets flustered and stubborn if the Sole offers to help her, but may eventually give in and try to learn if her pride is soothed.

Codsworth: “Oh, look! A library!” His voice chirps from its speaker, and he strolls through the building with steady swells from his jets. “Ah, you can never tire of a good story, Mx Sole. And, isn’t it funny? Even so many years later, after everything that’s happened, a good book will always be there for you. It will always be the same.” He lets out a happy sigh. He’s content to follow along behind Sole, commenting brightly on their surroundings as Sole looks for whatever they’re after.

Curie: She lets out a squeal of excitement, darting into the room and running her fingers along the rows of books. “Regardez tous ces livres! I have never seen such things!” As she pulls volume after volume from the shelves, she explains that her knowledge of literature was limited to the Vault 81 archives and what she could access through them. She ends up sitting on the floor, buried in books, reading until Sole says they have to go. She gives Sole a pleading pout, begging to stay just a little longer.

Danse: “I would not be surprised if the Brotherhood had already taken everything of use from here,” he says, eyeing the high, full shelves. If Sole questions his reading ability, his chest puffs up and he responds sharply. “The Brotherhood of Steel has a mandatory education curriculum. I know how to read, I have just never done so for recreation.” He refuses to speak on the matter for the rest of their time there. But when Sole’s back is turned, he hastily grabs a book of fairy tales from the shelves, hiding it from Sole and reading it by the light of the fire when they’re asleep. His favorite story is the Beauty and the Beast.

Deacon: “Oh, sweet.” A smile spreads across his face. Pulling over a wheeled stepladder, he climbs up to go through the higher shelves, removing various volumes and examining them. “Let’s see… We got all the classics right here. You need to do a book report? I got you covered.” He names each book as he pulls it out, rattling off their authors and summaries like it’s nothing. He takes one book, holding it up in his hands. “Hm. Through the Looking Glass. Here - you be Alice, and I’ll be the Cheshire Cat.” He grins. “Because if the Commonwealth’s not Wonderland, I don’t know what is.”

Dogmeat: The dog is confused as to why Sole is in here. There’s nothing to smell or eat or poop on! Silly human. He waits patiently until Sole is finished.

Hancock: “Mm. Look at all these books… I’ve always been partial to the Kama Sutra myself.” He grins. “You think they got a restricted section in here?” Regardless of Sole’s reaction, he ducks off when their back is turned, somehow getting into the ‘adult’ section of library and perusing the selection of literature. “Nah, see? This ain’t even realistic.” He’s holding an open book, gesturing to its pages with a scoff. “Here, let me show you.”

Nick Valentine: “You know, you’d think I’d like all those film noir novels, but I guess after you’ve lived a couple they lose their allure.” The synth admits his fondness for bittersweet classics, like Catcher in the Rye and Lord of the Flies. Stories that make you think, stories to make you cry. Stories to make you question your humanity. He takes a smaller volume of Ender’s Game, just the right size to fit in his coat, and tucks it out of sight. He says something about making himself sad reminds him that he’s not just a bucket of bolts.

MacCready: “Ohh, man,” he chuckles, thumbing through a couple of books. “Back in Little Lamplight, we didn’t have much, but we had some old books like these. Half the pages torn out so for toilet paper, and the other half near-illegible. We ended up using their stories as play scripts. You ever seen a bunch of twelve-year-olds re-enact A Midsummer Night’s Dream with fist fights instead of kisses? Good times.” He ends up pocketing a couple of comic books he finds under a desk, along with a joke book to expand his arsenal of puns. 

Piper: She absolutely adores romance novels. When caught with one in her hands, she protests quickly. “No I don’t! Don’t like them, nope. Real cheesy. Yeah. Not realistic at all. Whew! Sure glad you kept me from reading that, Blue. A waste of my time. Really.” She lets out a nervous laugh. When Sole leaves, she snatches the book back up off the floor, returning to her last page and continuing where she left off. The cheesier, the better, and if Sole happened to look under her bed or pillow, they’d find several more where that came from.

Preston: He steps aside to head to the fantasy section. He’s a sucker for epic fantasy and science fiction. Anything with a lot of action, where the bad guys always end up beat and the good guy gets the girl. “I guess I just like reading about happy endings,” he admits. “Something about it just gives you hope for the real world, you know?” He’s quite disappointed when all the volumes of Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, and The Silmarillion won’t fit in his pack. He can be persuaded to take a few less books, but he’ll look back fondly at the library as they leave.

Strong: “WHY HUMAN LOOK AT BUTT PAPER?” he questions, scowling. He prefers to have stories read to him rather than read them himself. If convinced to sit still and listen, he’ll often doze off to nursery rhymes and children’s stories. 

X6-88: He prefers non-fiction. Heading to that section of the library, he busies himself with auto-biographies and science textbooks and engineering books. He makes a point of removing any annotations written in them, writing down any notes he might have on a separate sheet of paper. “This Helen Keller woman was born without sight or hearing,” he muses, turning a page of his current book. “And she still learned how to communicate and take care of herself. Fascinating.” For some reason, reading about other peoples’ lives intrigues him.

((Thanks so much for the ask, anon!))



Click here to watch Part 1, How to Take Notes: from a Math Textbook.

It’s been brought to my attention that I used music that hinder the ability of our friends in Germany to watch my videos, so later this week I’m going to go through and change up the music, or at least make a text post for both of these, so keep an eye out!

Thief headcanons: Garrett Jr

As requested by professorjulielangford 

The Baron’s research into the Primal led him to the conclusion that only those attuned to it are able to manipulate it, and this ability is something that is passed down only through the bloodlines of the great noble families of the City. And yet, Garrett is attuned. If he were not he would never have been able to save Erin by using the ritual book to draw the Primal out of her. In the final cutscene, Orion taunts Garrett by saying that he, of all people, should know what betrayal feels like. Thirty years ago, a servant to one of the great noble families was dismissed from her post when the Lady of the household discovered that her husband had carrying on an affair with his chambermaid and had got her pregnant. To avoid scandal the nobleman offered money to his former servant and her husband to raise the child as their own. When the couple died a few years later in one of the fever epidemics that periodically sweep through the City slums, the nobleman chose not to acknowledge his bastard son and instead abandoned him to rot as an anonymous orphan in one of the City orphanages.

Garrett was only two or three years old when his parents died, too young to remember anything of them. He was too intent on escaping the orphanage to waste time on locating and reading his own file so he never found out if the orphanage kept records of his parents. As a result, he doesn’t know his parents’ names, the date of his birthday, or even how old he is. All he knows of himself or his life from before the orphanage is his own name.

Garrett has tried to forget as much as he can about the orphanage where he grew up. The memories are painful and he sees no value in dwelling on them. In his opinion the only worthwhile things the orphanage did for him were teaching him to read and to sew. Mending clothes and cleaning were the only things the youngest orphans were considered good for, until they were old enough to sell into indentured servitude. As soon as Garrett was old enough to understand the future that lay in store for him, he was increasingly desperate to escape.

Garrett escaped from the orphanage when he was still very young - about six or seven years old. For the first few years he survived by pickpocketing and stealing food from market stalls. As he grew older he took to stealing from shops and tenement houses as he taught himself stealth and thievery. Climbing and exploring the thieves’ highway came later, once he had grown taller and stronger.

Like many street children, Garrett was a visitor to the court of the Queen of Beggars. She offered them food and shelter during the lean times in exchange for gifts and donations whenever they were able. It was the Queen of Beggars who first saw the potential in Garrett. She introduced him to Basso, who reluctantly agreed to teach the boy what he knew. Garrett learned quickly and soon surpassed his teacher. It was not long before Basso saw the advantage in using the contacts he’d developed as a boxman and safecracker to establish himself instead as a fence. Garrett became the first and the most skilled of the network of thieves Basso relied upon, and the reputation and legend of the Master Thief grew. It was not long before commissions began to arrive from furtive clients who sought the skills of the Master Thief.

Garrett has always been smaller and weaker than others his age. In the orphanage he was constantly at risk of being a target for the older children, and he quickly learned how to stay out of sight and go unnoticed. The cost was that he never learned how to fight or defend himself in a brawl. The pattern became even more entrenched after he was forced to fend for himself on the streets, since every conflict was now potentially deadly and there were no opportunities to learn how to defend himself without risking being killed. Instead, his efforts go entirely to avoiding a fight altogether by never being seen and never allowing himself to be cornered.

Garrett’s aversion to killing anyone stems from an incident early in his thieving career when he was still learning his craft. He stepped on a creaky floorboard whilst trying to sneak through a bedroom where the occupant was lying asleep and they grabbed him before he could escape. During the struggle he panicked and stabbed them with a letter opener. He’s never been able to forget the blood that coated his hands, or the sick hollowness that choked him as he fled across the rooftops.

Having grown up in abject poverty with the constant threat of starvation and no-one else to rely on, Garrett has a deep fear of becoming sick or crippled and unable to take care of himself. Any time he is injured or unwell he becomes increasingly anxious, and is impatient with his own limitations until he recovers. Unfortunately this sometimes backfires on him and results in him taking longer than he should to recover from injury or illness because he pushes himself too hard in trying to resume his normal activities before he is ready.

Garrett’s collection of treasures in the clocktower originally began as an insurance policy so that if he ever becomes too injured to continue as a thief, he could still support himself without being forced to beg in the streets. Having grown up with nothing, he is now desperate to have everything. Over the years his collection has grown far beyond anything that could support him over several lifetimes, but he never even notices that he is technically very wealthy. His treasures have instead become more of a tangible reminder of who he is. He collects jewellery and beautiful trinkets as trophies of successful heists. He takes pleasure in their aesthetic appeal and in the memories of how he acquired them, sparing little thought for their monetary value. His collection of City plaques is a way for him to claim the City as his own, to exert ownership over its streets and hidden spaces through taking pieces of it to keep for himself.

Nothing excites Garrett more than the thrill of pulling off the perfect theft and everything he does is in service to becoming closer to his imagined ideal of what a thief ought to be. He has little concept of himself outside of his identity as the Master Thief.

Garrett dislikes mirrors, and especially seeing his own reflection. It’s an unwelcome reminder that he is still human, and not the idealised ghost he tries to become.

Garrett has never owned a pair of shoes. Like most orphans and streetrats he went barefoot. The soft leather soles of the outfit he crafted for himself offer protection for his feet without blunting his ability to feel and grip the surfaces he needs to climb.

Garrett is highly introspective, and prone to overthinking. His primary coping strategy for coping with conflict of any kind is avoidance, whether from physical danger or from disturbing thoughts.

After a lifetime spent living and working in the shadows, Garrett’s eyes are very sensitive to light. He can see in the dark much better than most people. The downside is that bright lights - and especially sunlight - are painful. He never goes outside during the day, and even avoids staying awake in the clocktower for too long during the day because it gets too bright for comfort.

Garrett is highly intelligent and loves to read. He has an aptitude for mechanical and technical subjects. He often visits the bookbinders shop and helps himself to new volumes for his collection.

Although the shady merchants sell arrows that Garrett can use, when he has the time and the materials he prefers to make his own. He keeps a collection of chemistry and engineering textbooks in the clocktower to help him design ideas for new equipment.

Garrett takes great care of his hands, knowing that they are his most important tool as a thief. He sometimes has nightmares of being caught thieving and having his fingers broken as punishment for stealing.

In common with nearly everyone who lives in the City, Garrett cannot swim. The rivers and canals are fetid, stinking places no sane person would set foot in willingly, so there are no safe places for anyone to acquire the skill.

Garrett’s voice is much deeper than you’d usually expect from someone of his slight stature, and is mostly so through disuse. Other than to Basso and the bad jokes he tells himself, he rarely speaks at all. During the times in between jobs when he’s hanging around the clocktower he can sometimes go days without ever hearing his own voice.

Since he crafted his first set of thieving leathers early in his career, no-one has seen Garrett without the protection and anonymity of his hood. Not even Basso or Erin.

Beneath the hood Garrett’s hair is dark brown shading to black. Garrett cuts his own hair, since there are no barbers who ply their trade in the middle of the night. He keeps it close-cropped for comfort and practicality, but takes as little interest in the task as he does in any other aspect of his appearance.

Unlike most who live in the City, Garrett takes care to keep himself clean and washes regularly. This is essential to his job, as stealth would do him little good if the guards can smell him coming.

Garrett wears a cotton shirt and trousers underneath his thieving leathers for warmth and to make the leather more comfortable. These double as sleepwear.

Garrett wears his leathers whenever he’s awake, even when he’s just hanging around the clocktower. All the windows are open to the elements, and even in summer it’s cold up there.

Garrett sleeps curled around a pillow with his back to the wall. He doesn’t think that anyone is likely to find him in the clocktower, but he still feels safer that way. He keeps his climbing harness and blackjack nearby so he can escape quickly if he needs to.

Garrett never accepts food or drink that anyone gives to him, not even Basso. He never eats in public where anyone can see him because this makes him feel too vulnerable. He only lets his guard down when safe in his clocktower.

Garrett cannot cook. He has never had the opportunity or the inclination to learn how. He keeps a camping stove, a saucepan and a teapot in the clocktower for heating water, but that is the extent of his culinary abilities. His diet mostly consists of bread, cheese, dried meat and fruit - dry foods that he can stuff into a sack to carry back up to his clocktower and store on a shelf until he needs them. There are two dairy pails he keeps in the clocktower to store water. He collects rainwater that falls through the broken tiles of the roof above wherever possible, but when that is insufficient, he uses a rope and pulley to lower the pails to the ground floor of the clocktower where they can be refilled.

During the winter when the rooftops become icy it’s too dangerous to climb the clocktower or to use the thieves’ highway. Garrett spends the winter months more or less hibernating. Much of his time is spent reading whilst wrapped in a nest of blankets, or maintaining his equipment. During the winter when he cannot go out he keeps himself fit and practices his climbing skills by clambering over the beams that support the clock mechanism.

Garrett helped Basso to train Jenivere so that she would carry messages to the clocktower for him. Jenivere often visited Garrett even when she didn’t have a message to deliver, and kept him company in the clocktower. He cared for Jenivere very much and was heartbroken when she was killed. Garrett has since helped in training Basso’s new birds, but he has nowhere near the same affection for any of Jenivere’s replacements as he had for Jenivere.

Garrett was patient #31 in the Moira Asylum during the missing year. The Asylum rules forbade staff from addressing patients by name, out of the belief that obliterating a patient’s former identity was the first step toward them developing a new, healthier identity. This is why Garrett did not associate the name “the Archivist” with himself, because the staff only used the nicknames as shorthand between themselves when talking about patients. It was easier than remembering their numbers.

Whilst he was trapped at the Moira Asylum, Garrett earned the nickname of the Archivist because every time he escaped from his cell he would steal small items from the staff and other patients: pens, spectacles, cutlery, syringes, buttons, etc. Anything shiny that caught his eye. Stealing things helped him to feel in control of his surroundings and to remind himself of who he was. Stealing is who he is, so stealing is what he does. At first he’d hide his treasures in his cell, but the staff always found them and confiscated them. Instead Garrett began to leave his trinkets hidden in caches in the vents and in hiding spaces around the asylum. As the months passed and his sense of self became increasingly tattered as the electroshock therapy began to steal pieces of his memory, sometimes he would stumble over caches that he’d made before. He began to wonder if some other thief had passed this way before him and was leaving the caches for him to find.

Montonessi the painter was incarcerated in Moira during the missing year. Montonessi was known to the staff as the Watchman for his habit of staring at the staff and other patients, a tendency he picked up from his work as a painter that necessitated keen observation of the world around him. For a time Montonessi’s cell was next to Garrett’s and he used to talk to Garrett through the wall during the times Garrett was confined to bed while recovering from the injuries inflicted by the electroshock treatments. As mentioned in the document Garrett found in the male ward in the Asylum, Montonessi was switched rooms when the staff came to believe that he was helping Garrett to escape his cell. Somehow the staff never found the hole in the wall between the two cells, which had been hidden from view by pushing the beds against the wall on either side. After escaping the Asylum Garrett felt compelled to collect Montonessi’s paintings, although he wonders why he feels drawn to a man he believes he’s never met.

Since escaping from Moira during the riots, Garrett has continued to steal whatever shiny but near-worthless trinkets that catch his eye. Basso finds this new habit somewhat baffling, but is too happy to have his friend back to say anything. Instead he fences anything Garrett brings him without asking questions, even if the items only bring in a handful of coins. With no memory of his time in the Moira Asylum, Garrett isn’t entirely sure why he feels the need to take everything he sees. Thinking too much about it makes him anxious, so he doesn’t question it.

Garrett doesn’t expect to live long enough to retire, nor does the thought of retirement hold much interest for him. He expects and accepts that his profession will one day mean his death. Sometimes before especially risky or complicated jobs he wonders whether this will be the one that kills him, but he always pushes such thoughts aside. He can’t afford that kind of distraction.

The Queen of Beggars is a Keeper. She knows too much about the ones who came before, who sought to protect the City in their own way. She hadn’t been in the Keeper Library before the comic where Madame Xiao Xiao shows it to her, but she had known of its existence. She is able to communicate with her rats, and to a limited extent to see through their eyes. However, despite popular belief, she is not truly blind. The Queen of Beggars sees through the Primal, in much the same way as Garrett does when he uses his focus ability. The milky cataracts in her eyes are a consequence of her connection to the Primal, and a similar fate now lies in Garrett’s future. From her connection with the Primal, the Queen of Beggars has limited foreknowledge of the future. She is able to sense the strands of fate that bring the necessary actors together for balance to be restored. It was this quality that she sensed in Garrett when he was a child, and the reason why she encouraged him to develop his skills as a thief and introduced him to Basso.

Garrett finds talking with the Queen of Beggars frustrating because she will never give a straightforward answer to his questions, but instead offers him only scraps of information and expects him to learn the answers for himself. He respects her greatly and places great store in her words. He trusts her as much as he trusts anyone, though he knows that she has her own reasons for everything she does and that everything she does is in service to a hidden agenda she will never share with him.

Garrett’s social skills are all but non-existent, having spent most of his life avoiding everyone and isolating himself to keep himself safe. Because of this he has never learned how to lie effectively, or to hide what he is thinking. His thoughts and emotions are easily deciphered from his expression and body language by anyone who pays close attention. This makes him deeply uncomfortable because it is something he cannot control, and gives him another reason to make sure that as few people as possible ever see him.

Garrett is either asexual or demisexual. He has a very few people he associates with who during the events of the game he came to realise are his friends, but the thought of wanting or needing a romantic or sexual relationship with anyone doesn’t ever occur to him.

Garrett never expected to grow fond of Erin, nor did he even realise that he had done so until he lost her in the Primal accident at Northcrest Manor. He originally agreed to teach the girl on purely as a favour to Basso. At first finding her an annoyance, he eventually grew to respect her potential, which is a large part of why he is so irritated by and intolerant of her recklessness and aggression. Still haunted by the memory of the first man he killed, Garrett wanted Erin to be free of that kind of regret. He is both confused and disturbed by how unbothered she seems by the idea of killing those who stand in the way of what she wants or are in the wrong place at the wrong time.

After the events of the game it took weeks before Garrett returned to Basso to take a commission. Instead, Garrett spent many nights searching for signs of Erin. She never returned to her hideout at the mill and eventually Garrett gave up looking for her, concluding that she had chosen to leave the City. He thinks of her often and wishes her well, hoping that wherever she might have gone, she is happy.

Garrett used to find solitude reassuring and freeing, part of being an idealised thief. During the game, however, he learned that Erin thought of him as a brother. Saving Basso from the Keep he was forced to admit, if only to himself, that he cares about Basso’s wellbeing and not just as a useful fence and business contact. Recently Garrett has become aware of how isolated his life has been, and sometimes he even wonders if he’s lonely. Basso has begun commenting every so often that Garrett seems more withdrawn than he used to be. It bothers Garrett that how he feels can be that obvious. It also worries him that forming attachments could be dangerous, both to himself and to anyone who gets attached to him.

Having seen the effects that the missing year and the ordeal of finding Erin has had on Garrett, Basso has begun trying to draw the Master Thief out of his self-imposed isolation. It is slow and frustrating, and Garrett has been slow to trust and even slower to respond. Basso isn’t sure if Garrett realises he let slip his guard when he asked Basso to take him to the Moira Asylum and confided in him about his fears of Erin haunting him, but he’s not going to give up on him. Even if Garrett is reluctant and afraid to admit it, he knows that Garrett is his friend. Garrett did risk his life in the burning Keep to save Basso, after all.

Fall Break

Adam leaves Henrietta for New Haven, CT; he still finds his way back home, to Ronan, for his fall break from Yale.


Adam’s classmates chatted all around him in the moments before their final class let out—about their plans for break, lounging on their yachts and relaxing in their houses in beautiful cities around the globe.

“Where are you going again, Parrish?” one of them asked—named William or Louis or Henry, coupled with an equally rich surname.

“Back to Virginia,” Adam replied with a smile. The smile had them all suspecting he had family to visit and state dinners to attend, but they were wrong. There was only one person waiting for Adam, just outside of Henrietta, and Adam doubted there would be much formal attire involved, if clothing was required at all.

“Ah, yes! Virginia,” the man replied, clapping Adam on the shoulder as they filed out into the brisk Connecticut air. It was a very Gansey-like gesture that made Adam feel rather nostalgic for the events of the past year. Of course, Gansey was nowhere to be found among the Ivy Leagues—perhaps not even anywhere in the continental United States.

Adam split from his classmates outside his residence hall, waving as they shouted well wishes and jokes as they continued on to their own. Adam climbed the stairs—much more reliable than an original elevator from the past century—to the third floor. His room was located in the northwest corner of the floor, a location that guaranteed it was larger than the ones on either side and just spacious enough to accommodate Adam and his two roommates.

Adam checked his suitcase again—already sitting packed on his freshly made bed, the result of a stereotypically worry-filled night.

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Pure mathematics is just such an abstraction from the real world, and pure mathematics does have a special precise language for dealing with its own special and technical subjects. But this precise language is not precise in any sense if you deal with real objects of the world, and it is only pedantic and quite confusing to use it unless there are some special subtleties which have to be carefully distinguished.
—  Richard Feynman, New Textbooks for the “New” Mathematics", Engineering and Science volume 28, number 6 (March 1965) p. 9-15 at p. 14
Like Peppermint On Your Soul [Marry Me #1]

@ltleflrt has come to my rescue and sent me some proposal drabble ideas. I’m going to write a hundred of them.

PAIRING: Dean Winchester/Castiel
SUMMARY: Art student Castiel and Engineer Dean have been friends since undergrad, boyfriends since sophomore year. The whole time, Castiel has been using Dean’s arm as a canvas for Sharpie tattoos since Dean is afraid of needles.

“You run out of paper again?” Dean mutters, not turning his eyes away from his engineering textbook.

“No,” Castiel says distractedly. “You haven’t had a tattoo in a while. That’s sad. I’m fixing that now.”

Dean spares only a quick glance over the top of his black rimmed glasses just to make sure that nothing’s changed in the past few weeks. It hasn’t. Dean is sitting cross legged on the floor, back resting against his bed, studying. Castiel is arranging his Sharpie markers in a neat line on the floor beside him contemplating Dean’s bare arm with that squinty, considering look that Dean likes. He likes it so much he doesn’t even suggest that Castiel give in and have his eyes checked already. It’s been eight years, and the squinting lines are starting to etch permanently into his forehead. Dean likes that, too.

He also actually likes Castiel drawing on his arm. Always has. They’d been freshmen strangers, assigned to the same dorm room. A pizza, several sodas, and a late night of unpacking their belongings later, they’d talked that punch-drunk talk of already sleep deprived students. Dean had said he’d always wanted a full sleeve tattoo. Castiel had said he could help design one. Dean had flinched and said his needle phobia would never allow him to actually get it. Castiel had frowned and looked legitimately sad.

Two weeks later he’d brought out the Sharpies and given Dean his first “tattoo.” It had been an explosion of tropical flowers up his forearm with ukiyo-e styled waves cresting up his arm. Dean had been stunned at his roommate’s talent.

Every time the ink finally washed off, Castiel replaced the tattoo. Eight years of it, every one getting better and better. Castiel has a whole Instagram account dedicated to his designs and an obscene amount of people follow it. And he and Dean had stayed together from undergrad to master’s to PhD. Or, as Castiel likes to say, four apartments and two cats, and one house ago. 

They haven’t seen each other in three weeks over their extended winter break. Castiel had remained at their apartment and taken care of the cats while Dean had gone home to Kansas for his annual family visit. When he’d finally pulled the Impala into his parking space in the garage, he’d discovered a landing strip drawn in sidewalk chalk on the ground along with a massive calligraphic scrawl stating, “about time you got home.”

And Dean can tell by the way that Castiel is gripping his arm, studying the skin closely like he’s trying re-memorize it, that they’ve both been completely miserable apart. It’s like this every year, but Castiel hates getting in the way of Dean and Sam’s only weeks alone together. Dean appreciates it and hates it. He keeps sending Castiel links to jobs near Sam’s area. He’d like them all to be a family one day.

He leans over and kisses Castiel on his temple before the man really gets to work on the tattoo. If he waits, Castiel will grumble at him for even the slightest movement. For an hour.

Castiel reaches up and takes Dean’s glasses off with a frustrated face. “I love you, and I missed you.”

“Me, too.”

Castiel plants both of his hands on either side of Dean’s legs, pushing himself up onto all fours and kissing Dean on the mouth at full throttle. It never gets old. Dean is happiest knowing that this will never change between them. He shuts his book and shoves it aside.

Castiel breaks away and turns around, resolutely resting his back against Dean’s chest. Dean sighs. “No working for a while?” Castiel has taken a lot of moves out of the cats’ playbook over the years, and bullying his way into Dean’s lap is one of the classics.

In answer, Castiel bends forward to grab the remote off of the table and passes it back. "Pick a movie.”

Dean does as Castiel settles in to do some art. He raises his knees and plants Dean’s left arm across them. When he starts to draw, all of the tension leaks out of Dean, as always. Nothing relaxes him like this. Silent except for the TV, the tangy smell of Sharpies, Castiel’s even breathing, the slight itch as the markers dry on him. His limp arm being turned this way and that.

The movie is almost over when Castiel caps his last Sharpie with a loud snap. That sound is how Dean knows he’s done. “Can I look?”

Castiel turns his arm around a few more times and hums thoughtfully. “Yes.”

Dean holds his arm out. Wow. It looks… familiar on the top. “Have you done this one before?”

Castiel scratches his nose and slips out of his lap. “Yes.”

He has. It takes a minute. Then… right. It’s the same tropical flowers that Castiel had first given him. The waves. It’s a lot more detailed than it was years ago. He really has improved so much. “My first tattoo,” he murmurs, turning his arm over. Looking down the underside of his arm, he suddenly realizes why Castiel decided to revisit this one. “Yes,” he says. He wants to say it straight to Castiel’s face, but his eyes are caught by the swirling black calligraphy right against the pulse point on his inner wrist. “Yes,” he says again, stronger.

Castiel scoots forward and places his hands on Dean’s knees. “Really?” His fingers trace over the words, Marry Me.

“Hell, yeah,” Dean confirms, yanking Castiel forward for a searing kiss.

Favourite Leo Fitz AU

Day Six of the 12 Days of Leo-Fitz-Mas

Ok, so for Day Six, I’m doing some fic-reccing. These are my personal EXTREME FIC RECS limited to the AU category, ok people!? And I’m terrified I’m gonna miss one so there may well be an amendment or two later today. You probably won’t find anything in here you haven’t already read unless you’re new to the fandom. What can I say? I’m a sucker for the classics…

So we can’t go anywhere without first honouring the glory that I think is probably the best thing the FitzSimmons fandom has produced (and I’m not limiting this to the best in the AU category, I’m gonna be so bold as to say this is my favourite thing produced by the fandom in its entirety):

Murder By Mistake by @recoveringrabbit

Set in the 1930s, Murder By Mistake is a brilliant homage to the English detective novels of Dorothy Sayers et al and brilliantly interweaves the solving of amazingly well-crafted crimes with the meeting and falling-in-love of our precious Fitz and Simmons. All her OCs are absolute peaches and you’ll enjoy the fabulous representations of canon Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. characters as well as some perfectly selected ring-ins from the rest of the Marvel Universe. The sequel, That Old Wedding Thing, is equally glorious.

You know what, though? You could safely click on ANYTHING on rabbit’s works page and find an absolute gem. She is THE QUEEN.

The A Short Goodbye Series by maidenstar

This historical World War I FitzSimmons AU is an amazing recreation of the battlefields of Europe and the human stories played out across them. I was astounded by how this fic brought history to life while retaining the essence of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. characters we know and love. Seriously, this fic is amazing.

A Few Tricks Up My Sleeve by @stillnotapepper

What is not to love about an AU in which Fitz and Simmons are cast as rival children’s party entertainers? This is so much fun - so much snark, so much sass, so many awesome appearances by other canon characters. It’s a dream! Also, pretty much all of her stuff is similarly beyond amazeballs. 

The Guns of Brixton by atomicsupervillainess AKA @0hcicero

This WIP in which Leo Fitz is a tatted-up punk-rock genius and the drummer in Lance Hunter’s band, and Jemma Simmons is the genius daughter of an oppressive Roxon mogul, finding herself against the background of the turmoil of Thatcher’s England, has so much sexiness and so much heart. I know it’s a WIP but I have faith that @0hcicero will bring it home with her trademark aplomb! Parts of this one are NSFW. And while I’m here, I have to also tell you to read her beautiful The Funny Thing About Fathers… Oh, what the heck. Read the rest of her stuff while you’re at it.

7:20am Train Downtown by @memorizingthedigitsofpi

This short-and-sweet meet-cute AU finds Fitz and Simmons as two strangers who keep finding one another on the same train. That Pi, she is a fluff hurricane! And, as further proof of that statement, I offer Raspberries or pretty much anything that she’s been writing (or manipping!) recently!

Dear Engineer by @agent85

One of the cutest meet-cutes in which a certain biochemist and a certain engineer leave notes for one another in the library’s copy of the engineering textbook that Fitz keeps returning to the library to borrow. Probs more of an Academy fic than a strict AU but it’s AU enough for me - and srsly adorbs! And you pretty much can’t go wrong with agent85 actually. All her stuff is amazeballs!

My Word Is My Bond by @madalayna

WIP. Jemma Simmons is the kickarse agent who has the brains, the strength and the mad spy skills to take out Grant Ward, the man who caused such damage to her best friend that Fitz has no memory of what they once shared. Parts are NSFW. You could equally read any of Madalayna’s equally magnificent AU WIPs!!

Out There (If I Reach Out) by agentverbivore who has changed her tumblr name to @merryfitzsimmons for Christmas, bless her!

This AU inserts our beloved FitzSimmons seamlessly into a slightly modified version of WALL-E’s world and has such a lovely atmosphere in which our precious OTP meet and fall in love. But EVERYTHING by agentverbivore is GOLD. (especially The Routine!)

don’t try this at home by @awkwardspiritanimals

Suddenly, in a team meeting of the Mythbusters TV show on which they both work, it seems to have been proposed that Leo Fitz should kiss Jemma Simmons on live TV. For Science. (I mean, kissing for Science? Who doesn’t need that, amirite!?)

The Meet Cute by @amandajoyce118

Starting with some reluctant speed-dating to help out a friend, Jemma Simmons unexpectedly meets someone who seems highly promising - but then he disappears. Unemployment woes, mysterious bosses and canon character shenanigans ensue. SO MUCH FUN!

Back To You by @eclecticmuses

Fitz resists being set up with a girl that everyone tells him is perfect. But when he loses a bet and gets stuck with delivering an awkward singing-kiss-o-gram to the girl in question, it turns out to be the one girl he’s always regretted losing. AND, coz it’s the season, read And May Your Heart Be Merry which is the most amazing FitzSimmons as elves in the take-your-photo-with-Santa place at the mall. Too gorgeous for words!

One For The Money (And Four To Go) by @lavendergaia

Bullied into attending a Stark Industries Charity Auction by her well-meaning friend, Skye, Jemma finds herself with the opportunity to meet the scientist she has long admired. It turns out the admiration has been mutual. Let’s just say they hit it off. This one is probs NSFW. (I love this premise of two scientists having admired one another’s work before they met so much that I have unwittingly copied it. Twice.) Also, read What Should Not Be Forgotten , a Buffy WIP I’m hopeful we’ll see more of one day called All We Are Turns To Dust and EVERYTHING ELSE!

Rebel by @mech-bull

It’s the fifties and Jemma Coulson and her sister, Skye, are going for a joyride in their out-of-town father’s beloved car when it breaks down. She runs into a nearby mechanics and unexpectedly finds a grease-smeared Leo Fitz, the genius bad-boy she’s sort of had a crush on since forever. Seems that maybe her crush has been reciprocated all this time. 

Though I Adore The Boy Next Door by @bookishandbossy

Gradually unfolding from the perspective of a whole range of their canon friends, this is the story of next-door-neighbours who are shipped by every single person they encounter. It just takes them a little time to work it out. Oh, and read throw in some truth for atmosphere (but we can see right through you) and I’m A Little Screwy Myself and definitely Oh, What A Night

Fauxiance (Or: That Time FitzSimmons Accidentally Got Engaged) by @superirishbreakfasttea

Ok, given that the subtitle is a good summary in itself, I’ll take this opportunity to say I really could have also gone her current WIP All The Bright And Precious Things or The Other Side of Sunset Boulevard or Across The Continents. What the heck? Read them ALL!!! :D

Lab Rats by @jessiecrimefighter

This one is a WIP but it is awesome. She talks a big game about friends-with-benefits but don’t let that put you off if you’re only in the FitzSimmons fandom for True Love - oh, the feels! But definitely NSFW in parts. Also, there is the magnificent Tea and Sympathy and the truly hilarious Hunter and Fitz: Agents of S.T.R.I.K.E.

Falling Slowly by @shieldsil

Fitz is hiding out from real-life, working as a busker on the streets of Glasgow. His sound catches the ear of Jemma Simmons, who should similarly be elsewhere. And read I Propose A Venture For Adventure

a concerto for two by quibbler

Two classical music prodigies find one another and, along the way, find love. Carpooling and kindred-spiriting and orchestras and compositions and the like. Aww.

Let It Snow by @unbreakablejemmasimmons

A WIP (which I am currently eagerly awaiting the conclusion of - no pressure!!!) in which Jemma Simmons settles in for a cold December night in her new apartment when she spots a body falling past her window. She rushes out to help and into her life walks Leo Fitz, who, of course, she falls in love with. AND this magnificent human is also one of the authors of the splendiferous The Cruiseline Job together with the very lovely @ardentaislinn. Speaking of which…

Higher Than The Sun by @ardentaislinn

Oh, the supermarket hilarity. Such a lovely fitzsimmons meet-cute! AND she is responsible for a delightful Love, Actually AU appropriately entitled It’s Love, Actually - buckets of fun!

i never needed any proof to trust the heart that beats inside of you by @jemmasimmmons

A soulmates AU in which every life-time Jemma Simmons remembers Leo Fitz and waits for him to fall in love with her. The ending is SO perfect. And you should definitely also read i want you more than i’ve wanted anyone

Some more recent WIPs I am loving are 12 Days of FitzSimmons Christmases by @notabadday, A Happy Loving Pair by @roamingbadger and 180 Days by @mrsleopoldfitz

Okay, now that I’ve written so many of these I am deeply convinced I’m forgetting some REALLY important fics!!! BUT, I am sure that anything I’ve forgotten in the AU category will be ably rectified by the magnificent people behind @fitzsimmonsfic - check out their AU recs here!


a nadashi ficlet because i am WEAK

(thanks to all the nadashi people for inspiring me to write)

(based on the 2012 disney short film)

The wind, dressed in her rare veil of cherry blossoms, is feeling rather petulant today. She’s got her fist wrapped up in his collar, and she doesn’t seem ready to let go anytime soon.

Keep reading


Beginning . Accusation . Restless . Snowflake . Haze . Flame . Formal . Companion . Move . Silver . Prepared . Knowledge . Denial

Niall hates winter, clings to warmer weather for as long as he can. But then he meets Harry in the winter.


“Oh, for fuck-” Niall curses, cutting himself off when an older woman – whom he recognizes as a professor; medium black, one sugar and a low fat blueberry muffin – glares at him from across the campus coffee shop, where she’s grading papers. He looks sheepish, mutters an apology as he continues to shovel snow and slush out of the doorway. 

It’s mid-November and the city of London is already buried under five feet of snow. And Niall hates it.

He hates winter. He hates cold weather, tends to cling to the warmer weather of summer and fall by wearing vests and shorts until his skin turns pink from frostbite instead of the sun; he’s Irish, so his skin is sensitive in all seasons. He hates the snow and how cold and blinding it is, how it whips against his hair and gathers on the streets, how it turns into slush and ice. He hates grey skies and angry storm clouds – and he positively loathes how short the days become.

He hates how depressing the winter season is, how cold and dark it makes everything seem and not just the weather. It’s a proven fact that people get depressed in the winter time – and Niall is, admittedly, definitely one of those people. 

The bell above the door jingles, calling out to Niall that someone has either left or come in just as the boy with dyed-blond tips and brown roots is putting the shovel back into the back room. He saunters, rather grumpily because the bloke who’s just walked in has trudged even more snow onto his already soaking wet carpets by the door, back in behind the counter to greet him with a fake smile. 

The bloke’s blowing hot air into his hands with his mouth as he walks up to the cash and when he pulls his hands away from his face, Niall finds himself staring at, like, a model. The boy’s all dark hair tucked under a beanie with a few loose curls peeking out from underneath at his neck, bright green eyes, clear skin with a lovely spread of pink across his cheeks and sitting on the tip of his nose, full, dark pink lips and a dimple in each cheek. Niall’s gaze slips down to see the rest of him: long limbs beneath a brown, swede jacket and black skinny jeans. He’s all kinds of beautiful – and only when he greets Niall, with a deep, hoarse voice, does Niall realize he’s staring. 

“Uh, sorry – hi,” Niall stutters, cursing himself inwardly for sounding like nervous teenager. He’s 20 years old for Christ’s sake. “What would you like?”

“Just a hot cocoa, please,” the boy says politely.

Niall nods, cashes him out and then serves him his hot cocoa all within five minutes and then the boy is gone. But Niall’s not-so-fake smile lingers.


Niall decides on Harry’s fifth visit in as many days (he learns Harry’s name on the third) that maybe this winter won’t be so bad this year. Yes, he hates winter, but it’s been winter for almost six days on Harry’s fifth visit and if that isn’t some kind of fate then Niall doesn’t know what is.


On Harry’s 12th visit, the lad curls up in a corner of the shop to study for the upcoming exam period and Niall winds up joining him an hour later because the shop is empty and he’s bored and Harry looks really cute, sitting cozied up in one of the plush arm chairs with his hair an unruly mess of curls and reading glasses and an over-sized jumper. Niall doesn’t study – because he didn’t even think to bring his notes, maybe he will tomorrow though - but he flips through a Rolling Stone magazine he found on the coffee table under Harry’s books and only gets up to serve the odd customer. 

Niall’s shift ends a few hours later, just after 8 p.m. and Harry lingers before asking him if he wants to join Harry at his favourite diner, located just off campus, for dinner. He attributes Harry’s red cheeks to the wind that hits Harry’s face and pushes his curls back; he knows his own red cheeks have nothing to do with the weather. 


“How can you hate winter?” Harry asks a couple days later, sounding appalled as he stares at Niall with wide eyes whilst propped atop the counter next to Niall’s cash register. 

“How can you not?” Niall counters, folding his arms over his apron covered chest, raising one eyebrow at the British boy. 

“Winter is lovely.”

“Winter is cold. And gloomy. And, like, dead – everything dies in the winter.”

“But…there’s so much to love about winter,” Harry insists, like he really, truly wants to convince Niall that he’s right. 

“Oh yeah? What’s there to love?”

Harry looks thoughtful for a moment before grinning cheekily and hopping off the counter, his long, clumsy legs wobbling like they’re going to give out on him before he catches himself, just as another customer walks into the shop. “Hang out with me after your shift and I’ll show you,” he says quietly before walking back over to his arm chair in the corner to study once more. 

(If Niall stutters and asks the girl to repeat her order three times because his brain has melted like snow in the spring time, then, well.)


Harry doesn’t have very much planned for when Niall’s shift does finish – though he promises to come up with something better next time – so he just takes Niall for a walk in the courtyard between res. buildings. And Niall finds himself listening to every passionate word that leaves Harry’s lips about snow and how beautiful and perfect it is before he grabs a fistful of it in his hands and tosses it at him. The snowball hits Niall with a smack in the chest and Harry takes off running the second Niall jerks to chase him down. 


Three days later Harry takes Niall ice skating – and even though Harry claims to go skating every year, the boy is absolute rubbish at keeping his balance. 

Two days after that they make snow angels in the courtyard which results in Niall getting a cold the following day – sniffles and a sore throat – so Harry brings him chicken noodle soup in a thermos in the middle of his music theory class.

(And when his roommate, Josh, teases him about it after, Niall just kind of lets him.)


“You just need to embrace it,” Harry’s saying a few days after Niall’s cold has finally gone away. They’re sitting on Niall’s bed, Niall’s back against the headboard with a sound engineering textbook in his lap whilst Harry’s back is pressed against the wall, his own law textbook left forgotten between his legs. “Every season has something to be embraced.”

“Oh yeah?” Niall asks, cocking an eyebrow. 


“Enlighten me.” It’s not that Niall doesn’t believe him – or that he doesn’t like any of the other seasons, he just kind of wants to see what Harry sees. He wants to understand how Harry thinks. 

Harry leans forward, then, his long fingers wrapping around his ankles, which are intertwined with Niall’s at the foot of the bed. His eyes are wide with excitement and the look on his face is that of pure admiration. It makes Niall’s heart swell. “Spring is all fresh showers and blooming flowers and budding trees, like everything is coming to life again. Summer’s a bit obvious, yeah? Sunshine and beaches and warm weather and ice cream melting all down your arm. Fall’s got that first, rich taste of a pumpkin spice latte and the delicious smell of fires in the fireplace and orange and yellow and red leaves on the trees. Winter’s a little bit harder to understand because it’s dark and gloomy a lot but when it is bright the snow literally sparkles and, yeah, it’s cold but it means comfy sweaters and hot cocoa and ice skating and snow angel making.”

Niall finds himself grinning, watching Harry fondly. It’s times like this, when Harry gets so passionate about winter that Niall finds that he likes the way winter – even just the thought of it – seems to bring Harry to life. 


Niall sighs as he looks out the window of the Addison-Lee, which is futile because he can hardly see any further than the glass anyway. He was supposed to be on a flight back home for the holidays right now but a combination of bad weather and poor visibility due to the worst snowstorm of the season has grounded all planes at Heathrow Airport. Now he’ll be playing a waiting game to see when he’ll be able to fly out and until then he’s stuck in London; stuck in res. whilst everyone else has gone home as well. 

He glances down at his phone, sees that his mum has replied to his planes are grounded, won’t be home anytime soon with a series of sad emojis. (He never should’ve shown her those emojis.) His best friend Sean has responded to a similar text with a friendly threat of flying out there on his own and kidnapping him if he doesn’t get his arse back to Ireland soon. Harry, however, has yet to answer. 

Harry had left for his own home town, Holmes Chapel in Cheshire, just after dropping Niall off at the airport about two ago. Which means, in short, that Harry is still driving which is probably why he hasn’t responded. 

Niall doesn’t want to admit it but he misses Harry already. If he’s being honest, he started to miss Harry before they’d even said goodbye because all of a sudden three weeks away from him had been starting to feel like an eternity. It’s only been about a month that Niall’s known him and it already feels like Niall’s always known him. The concept of not seeing him for three whole weeks is unsettling and bittersweet in the sense that he also can’t wait to get home and see his family.

The driver pulls up against the curb outside his res. building and he pockets his phone in his jacket before handing the man just enough money for the drive and a small tip. He’s only a Uni student, after all.

He clambers, then, out of the back seat of the car, struggling to shield his face from the snow blowing about in the wind. He reaches for his luggage in the already opened trunk and when a hand lands next to his on the handle of his suitcase he looks up to thank the driver for his help, though it really isn’t-

His gaze meets Harry’s. Harry, who’s grinning at him over the scarf wrapped around his neck. Niall blinks, unable to look away and unable to speak; he’s quite literally frozen. Harry gathers the rest of Niall’s things before patting his hand down hard on the back of the car; the driver pulls away from the curb almost immediately, leaving both Niall and Harry standing on the sidewalk in the middle of the snowstorm. 

“What are you doing here?” Niall asks, finally managing to find his voice. “I thought you were on your way home…”

“Well I was, but I got your message,” Harry replies with a shrug of his shoulders. “I didn’t want you to be alone so I called my mum and told her I’d be up in a few days, once you’re safe and sound on a plane.”

Niall rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “Y-you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

Niall smiles fondly. “Thanks,” he murmurs, before turning to head inside. 

Harry’s hand curls around his wrist, then, and he’s tugged backwards and spun around – and then a pair of soft, warm lips are upon his own. Niall is frozen in shock once more but then Harry deepens the kiss, curling both arms around Niall’s waist to pull him even closer which pulls a moan out of Niall’s throat. He kisses back, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. 

(And it’s fitting, isn’t it, that their first kiss is in the middle of a snowstorm?)


Niall hates winter. With a passion. He hates the snow and the cold, bitter air and the fact that he has to layer his clothing. Hates the ice that tries to make him slip and fall and the snow he has to shovel out of the doorway at the coffee shop. 

But he meets Harry in the winter and he likes the way the snow gets caught in the curls that peak out from under his beanie, and the way his nose turns pink in the cold, bitter air and the way he looks in an over-sized sweater – sometimes two – and he adores the fact that Harry wears long-johns under his skinny jeans. He also likes the way Harry likes to go ice skating even though he isn’t very good and he likes Harry’s ridiculously childish need to start a snowball fight completely out of now where and he thinks it’s kind of cute that Harry still makes snow angels. 

(And, maybe, he’s starting to warm up to winter after all.)

bispaceprincess  asked:

Bellarke + “my friend thought you were cute so she tried to take a picture of you for snapchat and her flash went off but when you looked our way she shoved her phone into my hands and nOW YOU THINK IT’S ME AND OH GOD PLS DON’T BE MAD” au, If you wanna :)

FUN FACT #1: I will probably always wanna write prompts. ;) FUN FACT #2: I have never used snapchat so I hope I was close enough for this prompt. But thanks so much! This was hilarity itself to write. FUN FACT #3: And apparently I am not very good at keeping things to drabble length.

[AO3] [FFN]

Clarke’s got her nose in a paperback copy of Pride and Prejudice while she waits in line with Raven at the campus bookstore. It’s the first week of the new spring quarter and there’s a line of students wrapping throughout the whole building and down the stairs, all of them hoping beyond hope that they’ll get through the check-out line before they’re late for their next class. 

Clarke ordered her textbooks from the cheaper online vendors weeks ago, but Raven guilted her into accompanying her to the bookstore when she reminded Clarke that she had ditched their spring break plans. 

(“I had the flu!” Clarke had protested.

Raven didn’t care.

“You want me to remind you who took your spot in the group, Clarke?”

“Not really,” Clarke had said, “considering you already complained about him to me for the last five hours.” 

Kyle Wick, Clarke. I had to hike in the woods with Wick. For days.” 

“And Sterling, and Mel, and a bunch of our other friends,” Clarke reminded her. 

“And Wick,” Raven had snarled, color high in her cheeks.)

They’ve been in line for nearly an hour, and thankfully they’re almost at the front, but Clarke’s not all that sure why Raven insisted she come along. The other girl has been preoccupied with something on her phone basically the entire time they’ve been waiting together––she hasn’t even yelled at Clarke about reading a book while they’re supposed to be hanging out. 

“Clarke!” Raven hisses. “Look at how hot that cashier is!” 

Clarke glances up from Mr. Darcy’s first ill-mannered meeting with Elizabeth Bennet, follows Raven’s not-so-discreet pointing. The guy she’s indicating is pretty cute, all tan skin and dark messy hair and bone structure Clarke would love to sketch. But…

“He’d be cuter if he took that nasty look off his face,” she replies, and returns to her book as they shuffle forward in line. There are only a couple people in between them and the check-out stands, and even as Clarke watches the second, nicer-looking cashier waves them forward. 

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