#and then complete the assignments associated with that grade

[ratscabies]

being a university instructor is actually really hard bc I want nothing more than to be nice and accommodating and understanding with my students, but like. baby I can lead a horse to water but I can't make it drink!!

[the-witty-pen-name]

Nothing But Trouble (1)

Billy Hargrove x Shy!F!Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Synopsis: Billy has done everything in his power to completely destroy his life- like his goal is to crash and burn before he even gets a chance to start. Assigned as his peer tutor at Hawkins Community College, begrudgingly you are slowly helping pull himself up out of the hole he dug for himself. Somewhere along the way, he falls for you and in a turn of events you’d never predict for yourself, you fall for him too. 

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI (nothing in this chapter, but will be in later chapters); mentions of abusive parents (Billy's Dad); struggles with mental health; seeking help for mental health; flirting; some fluff

A/N: This is my first time writing for Billy so please let me know how I did- and what you'd like to see next!

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! And requests are currently open :)

No one expected Billy to have stayed in Hawkins following graduation. Furthermore, no one expected to see him enroll at the local community college. His plan had always been to get the fuck away from Neil and flee to the furthest place he could conceivably go. It had been his plan to escape for as long as he could remember. The Hargrove household was never a place he could ever call home.

No one knew the reason he stuck around. People theorized he stayed because of lack of money, or because he was a big fish in a small pond in Hawkins, etc. He stayed for Max- a plan to get his shit together and save her too. He didn’t believe it himself. No one would believe him if he ever admitted it anyways. 

Stupid fucking pipe dream that he’d never amount to- moving back to California and bringing Max and Susan with him. He’d swear he’d get his act together and step up for them. He’d change and be a big brother- step up and be the man of the family. However, Billy wasn’t that guy- he didn’t know how to be that guy. He was stuck in a spiral of hatred and self-destruction. He knew who he needed to be, but it wasn’t who he became.

Most of the time, Billy, if he did show up to class, showed up hungover or sleep deprived or just couldn’t get his shit together. He’d snap at his professors and peers. Mandated by the Dean by threat of being expelled, he began sessions with the school therapist- which turned into a referral to one mental health counselor after another until Billy felt he’d been turned from the inside out and dissected until he had nothing left to disclose. 

It was unlike him, very uncharacteristically so, to go along with all of it. He doesn’t know what possessed him to spill it all- break down in the stuffy little office on east campus. He felt like he was pushed off of a precipice and he kicked and screamed the whole way down. It all came out- every emotion he bottled up- all of his anger. All of his deep rooted, ignored until it was bigger him, true fucking sadness just ruptured and he couldn’t stop it. 

He’s broken- so fucking broken. But he’s willing to change. He needs to change. He’d decided that he won’t become Neil. He won’t be anything like that bastard. He needed to turn his life around or this fucking bullshit would consume him like he’s let it go this long. 

So this is how in the beginning of his second year- two semesters away from his associates, he’s stuck spending his Tuesday and Thursday afternoons with a tutor. Amidst the revelation for self improvement, he’s realized he should probably start to get his shit together. Almost too late in the game, as he coasted with mostly C’s and a few well deserved D’s and now he’s desperate to get his grades up.

Valedictorian of Hawkins High, no one expected you to stay in Hawkins following graduation. You were destined for greatness- the one to break the working class cycle. You were the one with the one way ticket to university and you were supposed to be leaving nothing behind but tire tracks. Yet, you’re here. No one understood why. Enrolled in your hometown community college and rumored to stay in Hawkins for the rest of your life. 

Both of you wanted to be anywhere but here. Which is why for the past 3 sessions of tutoring, Billy never said one word and you didn’t either. Your initial questions were met with shrugs and silence, but you were fine with that. You could wait it out- the school paid you either way. It made no difference to you whether or not he passed or failed. You just didn’t understand why he kept bothering to show up. 

Billy never bothered you the same way he got his long list of enemies at Hawkins High. Surprisingly, he left you alone. You’d have thought you’d have been an easy target- nerdy, shy and awkward. Billy and your paths didn’t cross often. You’d see him at parties occasionally, but it was nothing more than a glance from across the crowd. You couldn’t even really call each other acquaintances. 

You’d sign his paper he needed to give back to his academic advisor, proving he came to tutoring. Then, you’d both leave. Both of you would show up the next week on time, sit in silence and the cycle would continue. Until it didn’t. 

You didn’t show up on time, and Billy sat in the library waiting for you. He would check the clock, watch the door, and then check the clock again. Where the fuck were you? You walk in, late and looking flustered. You look like you’d just run here, but he doesn’t ask. You take your usual seat across from him and flip your binder open. He notices the grease on the front of your sweater. 

“Car trouble?” He asks, and your eyes snap up to look at him. 

“He speaks,” you say with shock. You settle back against the chair. “Um, yeah, my car has been giving me a lot of trouble,” you admit. 

“How’d you get here?” He asks, and he’s not sure why he even cares. 

“I took my bike- well, I stole my brother’s bike which was at one point mine so…”

Billy smiled. You don’t miss it. A little crack of light seeping in from his gruff exterior. He won’t let you see it for too long, but you enjoy it while he does. You’re amusing him, but you don’t feel like the butt of the joke. Maybe, just maybe, he’s warming up to you. Silence falls between the two of you again, the only sounds that fill the void are the turning of the pages in your binder. 

He knows he’s wasting his own time, and he’s also wasting yours. He can’t find it in himself to legitimately ask for your help. He doesn’t do that- Hargroves don’t do that. You figure your shit out on your own because no one else is going to care about you, he picked that up from his dad quickly. So, he settles for silence. He’ll flip through the pages of his textbook that he’s still pissed he had to buy, and steal glances at you as you study for yourself. 

He remembers you from Hawkins High, and he’s sure you remember him. He wants to know why you’re even still here- last he heard, you were supposed to be going off to one of the Ivy leagues like Harvard or some shit like that. How did you get from there to here? He shouldn’t care, but it’s the most interesting thing he’s had to think about that didn’t revolve around him. 

He’d thought about asking you out before, back in high school. He never did. You intimidated him. He didn’t know how to navigate you like he did other people. He also knew with that good head on your shoulders, you’d reject him. And he didn’t want to admit that rejection was something he couldn’t handle. Things aren’t that much different now, except this gift of time together which he’s choosing to squander away. 

“Do you want a ride?” he asks as you hand him back his sheet with your signature. The question surprises you, it was something you wouldn’t expect from him. “I could take a look at your car if you wanted- that is something I actually know,” he smirks. Where did this come from? You wonder. 

“Uh, yeah- that’d be great,” you say, and he can tell the question caught you off guard. “Will the bike fit?”

“Should,” He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

You follow him back out of the library to the parking lot. After you unlock the bike from the bike rack, he walks it over to his car for you. He’s able to maneuver it into the truck with just a little effort. Then, he walks over and opens the passenger door for you. 

Okay then. 

The ride is pretty much quiet except when you need to give him directions. The radio is playing and he taps his fingers on the steering wheel along with the song playing. You don’t live too far from the school, not that Billy cared. You’re watching the houses pass by out the passenger window and you don’t see Billy sneaking glances at you occasionally when he thinks he can get away with it. He’d imagined this scenario a few times with you, you in his car with him- maybe he’s driving you home after a date or something,  but he’d never admit that. That would show weakness, and he’s not weak. 

“You can pull in the driveway next to my car,” you instruct- pointing to your house. He backs in, so it’s easier to get the bike. He doesn’t get your door this time, but he instead goes to get the bike out of his car for you. He rolls it to the side of the house, and rests it against the side carefully. You walk over to your car, and get into the driver’s seat so you can pop the hood. 

“Get me rag?” Billy asks, looking over the engine, pulling the dipstick out from its holder. “Have you checked your oil recently?”

“Uh nope,” you admit, a little embarrassed. You disappear into the house for a moment and return with some rags. You can’t help but feel a little nervous- a little ashamed. You didn’t like not knowing things. This was an area where you really didn’t have any confidence and you were anxious that Billy would see that. You were worried he might judge you.

“C’mere, I can show you,” he says, “It’s really simple.” You step closer to him, flush against his side so you can see where he’s working. “Make sure your car has been off for a while so the oil settles in the tank- this is the dipstick- it will show you the level of oil. You wipe it off clean.” He takes the rag and wraps it around the stick and then pulls it through the rag to wipe it completely. 

He shows you the end of the stick. “Those two little dots? When you put the stick back in, you want the oil to be somewhere between them. If it doesn’t reach there- you know it’s low.” He puts the dipstick back in position and lets it sit for a few seconds and then pulls it back out. Oil coated the end of the stick and it didn’t come up to the first dot. You frowned. 

“Your car probably has a sensor that stops you from starting the car when the oil is low,” he explains. “Which is a good thing, so I think your car is fine.” 

“That’s it?” You ask, dumbfounded. “Is it that easy?” He chuckles. 

“Yeah, I mean- pretty much. Just need to put more oil in,” he shrugs, pleased with himself that you seem to be impressed by him.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, “I’m sorry you came out of your way for something so simple-”

“Don’t even worry about it,” he grins. “Least I can do.” 

He shows you how to add more oil- even though he knows you’d be able to piece it together yourself. You’re thankful for his instruction anyways- you tend to get nervous about things you’ve never done. Granted, he’s right that it was easy- but still, you didn’t want to mess up your car. You just felt better with him here. When you’re both done, he reaches up to close the hood and you do your best not to stare. He starts your car and the engine roars to life. 

You literally jump up and down with excitement. When Billy steps out of the car you don’t even think about it when you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrap around your waist and he smiles, not sure what he did to deserve this much praise- not that he would ever complain being close to you like this. Once you realize what you did, you panic and break away. You stare at the ground, nervously. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, suddenly shy. You shove your hands into your back pockets just to give them something to do. Billy smiles, enjoying all of it far too much. He bites his lip watching your body language. He liked that he made you a little nervous. It gave him a little boost of confidence. 

“Don’t be, sweetheart,” he flirted. 

You open your mouth to respond and your words fail you. This is just so new, this feeling that is beginning to bubble up. This is a side of Billy you don’t think anyone knew existed. It’s making you look at him in a new light, and you don’t know why you are beginning to feel this way. His eyes trail up and down, like he’s sizing you up. It makes your breath hitch. How did you end up like this? You tug anxiously at the sleeves of your sweater. 

“So, um,” he licks his lips. “I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “See ya. Thanks again.”

TAGLIST:@sunshinepeachx@downbear@fanlifeaamt@exploding-bonbon@losingmygrasponreality@skiddypiddy@andvys@djodirt@moonlightsolo@kyga01@sheisjoeschateau@melaninjhs@v3lv3tf0x@purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles@sunshine-mrk@danymunsonharrington@mrsjellymunson@fanficfantik@the-unforgivenn@punkrockmlchael

[castletowne-bah]

➜ ﹒✶﹒ Names : Noelle . Holly . Joyce . Rudy . Dasher . Eve . Clover . Fawne . Rowen

➜ ﹒✶﹒ Gender(s) : Transfem Deergirl .

➜ ﹒✶﹒ Xenogenders : HolidayComfic . Wintriastrillic . Strivangelic . LoveLettercoric . AngelDeer .

➜ ﹒✶﹒ Pronouns : She/Her . Doe/Doe’s . Frost/Frost’s . Faun/Fauns . Mer/Mercy . Hope/Hopes

➜ ﹒✶﹒ Age Range : 13 - 17 Years

➜ ﹒✶﹒Sourced From : Noelle / Deltarune .

➜ ﹒✶﹒ Associated With : Libraries . Wintertime . Christmas . Hot chocolate . Sugar cookies . Deer . Holiday music . Mint chocolate . Ice skating . Gingerbread . Pine scents . Snow angels .

➜ ﹒✶﹒ Front Triggers : Test anxiety . Fresh snowfall . Unbearably cold weather . Christmas music . Overwhelming loads of homework . Burnout . Sourcemates . Helping others learn .

➜ ﹒✶﹒ Role Ideas : Soother + Academic .

Fronts during stressful situations when the system is overwhelmed with schoolwork. She excels at stepping in to complete assignments, study for tests, maintain the systems grades, or handle overall academic pressure. Her presence has a naturally calming effect on the body’s anxiety around school related tasks

⠀⏆ art 1 . ⏆ art 2 . ⠀⏆ art 3 .

[bone-trash]

Psssssst… yall want some fluff?

I wrote something I like in my unfinished After Midnight sequel fic and wanna share

They’d been seeing each other for a few weeks and Simon thought things were going pretty well. While the heat that had sparked between them had continued to blaze, their times together were now sweetened with a slow trickle of detail and context. Simon devoured every new piece of information he could, utterly fascinated and charmed. Johnny didn’t drink tea (scandalous) and instead preferred energy drinks first thing in the morning. As distasteful as Simon found this personally, most of them smelled like petrol, his fridge was now stocked with whatever odd flavor the lad preferred at the moment. Johnny was an art student at the local UNI, and though he made enough at the shop to get his necessities, he often had to pass off a lack of proper supplies as a stylistic choice. When Simon found out one of the younger man’s sketch assignments had been completed in colored pencil, not because of the inherent spirituality and mystery associated with the color purple but because Johnny had worn his Ticonderogas down to nubs, he decided to help. He was fucking talented, Simon wouldn’t let something as easy to obtain as school supplies be the reason some shitty prof gave him a bad grade. This thing between them was still fresh though, so Simon usually left the pack of pencils or new sketch book in the bag Johnny carried to work before he woke up, not wanting to embarrass him. He thought he resembled an Attenborough special he’d seen in school about penguins wooing each other with pebbles and felt a bit silly at first. Then Johnny would react to these small acts of affection, with a blinding smile and a heated kiss, and Simon couldn't find it in himself to regret this comparison.

Amazingly, Johnny seemed to enjoy his company. They were together a lot, but it wasn't all passionate romps in Simon’s bed, or car, or shower. Most of the time he’d pick up Johnny from work and they’d end up lounging on his couch watching something stupid on telly; Johnny looked far too good in an old pair of Simon’s sweats and, most importantly, he looked like he belonged there. Eventually they began working their way through his DVD collection because Johnny apparently hadn't seen any of the important cinema of the last 20 years. How does someone make it to adulthood without seeing Shaun of the Dead or Jennifer’s Body or bloody Paddington 2? It was criminal and Simon intended to correct it. As Johnny burrowed into his side, often falling asleep before the movie was over, Simon couldn't help but feel content. It was odd for him and he was loath to accept it. Yet day after day, as Simon woke up with Johnny warm and draped over his back or found himself smiling at whatever stupid meme he was texted from class, he knew he was falling hard. It was so disgustingly domestic and normal and Simon was happy.

[edupunkn00b]

You Know 'Found Family' Is Only an Idiom, Right?

A standard review of Janus' permanent record reveals a secret his teacher, one Mr. Logan Sanders, was uniquely positioned to recognize.

Written for @fandombead/@icycove for the @tss-camp-and-coffee Camp Cartoon writing event. WC: 2168 - Rated: G - CW: None, essentially fluff and snark. There's inherent angst in adoption and the foster system but it's all left to the imagination of the reader. - My other camp stories

For the fourth time in a single afternoon, Logan quietly cursed that day’s fire drill. Originally scheduled for third period, the school’s lacrosse coach had successfully lobbied to have it moved to fourth so that it wouldn’t interrupt the team's practice time.

The Dean had conceded and moved the drill. Right into Logan’s prep period.

With a bit of schedule finagling—and a rushed lunch of a third cup of coffee and granola bar which Patton would not need to know about—Logan had been able to get back on track. By the time his final period of the day had ended, he’d managed to make it work and fit in nearly everything on the day’s task list.

Nearly everything.

He now sat at his desk, five minutes before the start of his office hours and the start of his senior review with the final name on his list. And he hadn’t yet properly reviewed the student’s file.

Janus Woods was not completely unknown to him. Sly and sarcastic, he was the student most other teachers in the school dreaded to see on their rosters. In his years at the school, the boy's behavior had never quite risen to the level of outright insubordination or disruption. He seemed to have a knack for knowing precisely where that line was.

And he relished dancing along its razor sharp edge.

Despite his spotty grades, Janus was frequently assigned to one Logan’s honors or AP classes. Logan had never expressed that strong of a reaction to teaching him and perhaps that explained his other teachers’ eagerness to recommend him for the honors track. Not to say he didn’t belong there. The boy’s snark all-too-often revealed a sharp wit that no doubt foretold of a strong academic career. If only he’d drop the ‘above it all’ act and genuinely apply himself.

Shaking away his own internal lecture, Logan opened Janus’ file. If this was to be a productive meeting in which to review Janus’ post-graduation plans, he needed to go by more than ‘vibes’ as his seniors liked to say.

Janus’ transcript was much as he expected. Barely passing phys ed the few semesters he hadn’t managed to be formally excused. Attended the honors track but without distinction. No clubs or associations. He turned the page, wincing when he saw the electronic records now even included when students purchased tickets to after school events. Janus had attended a few school plays, but no sporting events. No dances.

His SAT scores were phenomenal but there was no note of which college he planned to attend. There were records of any transcript requests from any of the schools he’d applied to.

Frowning down at the file, his eye caught on Janus’ address.

204 Center Street

That was… Logan pulled up his phone contacts and confirmed his memory. 204 Center Street was the address for the group home where their sons had lived before he and Patton had adopted them.

He checked the parental contact page again. No names, only a phone number.

The same phone number to the central social work line Logan had memorized during Virgil's early years.

Logan flipped back to Janus’ cover sheet. Janus was four months away from eighteenth birthday. It had taken over a year for them to finalize the paperwork for the twins. Virgil, being older and somewhat more complicated, had taken twice as long.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Sanders?” Janus drawled from the doorway. A thick paperback book clutched to his chest, the boy stood stiffly, face a neutral mask. While some students approached their senior planning session with giddiness, others with a blasé case of senioritis, Janus appeared cautious, unsure of what Logan might want with him.

“Yes, please, come in, Janus. I—if you’ll forgive me, I must make a very brief phone call.”

Janus half-shrugged and sat down in the seat closest to the door. And furthest from Logan's desk. He pulled out a battered copy of Les Misérables—in French—and began to read.

Logan unlocked his phone, watching him. There were no French classes on Janus' transcript. He'd fulfilled his two years of language requirement with Spanish and German.

“Well, hey there, Logie! What a nice surprise!” His husband’s cheery voice melted away the icy knot growing in his chest and he smiled. "Hi Daddy!" the twins called from the background.

Janus glanced up at him then quickly looked away.

“Is everything okay?” The sound changed as Patton clicked the call from car speakers to his earbud. Logan glanced at the time. They were likely mid-afternoon pickup, on their way to get Virgil from the middle school.

“Everything is fine, well, it… I don’t have much time, but do you remember what we were talking about over the weekend? About…”

“You mean Virgie joking about getting a new brother to replace the twins?”

He cleared his throat, stifling a chuckle at the tumult his little statement had sparked. And the long conversation that followed. “More what came out of it.”

“Oh,” Patton’s voice went low. “Are you having second thoughts about applying?”

“On the contrary,” Logan said, catching the moment when Janus became absorbed in his book, curling around it as his eyes danced over the words, expression shifting as the tale unfolded. “Pat, do you trust my judgement?” he asked quietly.

“We—well, of course, Logie. Are you okay?”

“I am fine, I am… More than fine. I will explain everything when I get home,” he promised. “See you in a few hours. Love you,” he murmured, cheeks warming when Janus’ eyes darted up at him.

“Love you, Logie,” Patton called, switching the phone back to speaker mode. A chorus of “Love you, Daddy!” poured through from the twins in the back.

Still smiling, Logan ended the call and put away his phone. He looked up at Janus, the boy’s sharp eyes already fixed on him. The book had disappeared.

“You always call your wife after class?” he drawled, drumming his fingers on the desk.

“Husband,” he corrected, noting the flash of surprise. “And, no.” Logan gestured at the seat next to his own desk. “Would you like to sit here or would you rather I join you there?” He looked pointedly around the empty classroom. “Unless, of course you prefer we shout at each other across the distance.”

Janus shrugged and gestured to the seat beside him. Nodding, Logan closed the folder and brought it and a notepad to the new seat. Pose frozen, Janus watched him from the corner of his eye, another lingering spark of surprise in his gaze.

“Most teachers would’ve made me move,” he said as though Logan was somehow dull.

“Perhaps,” Logan admitted. “Am I most teachers?”

Shifting in his seat, Janus looked at him but didn’t answer.

Logan let the silence sit between them for a few beats then opened his file. “When I originally scheduled this time with you, I’d intended it as the standard ‘what are your post-graduation plans’ session,” he began. He turned the folder so Janus could see what was inside.

His hands twitched, peering closely at the thick file, and Logan passed it to him.

“Is that allowed?” Janus said. He didn’t wait for an answer and pulled the file close, flipping through the pages as though searching for something.

“It’s your record,” Logan answered with his own little shrug. He gave Janus a bit of time to review what was inside. “There’s no mention of what college you plan to attend after you graduate.”

Janus’ face tightened and he closed the file. “I’m taking a gap year,” he said. “I thought I might backpack through Europe or some such adventure.”

“A year in Europe,” Logan nodded. “That would be quite an adventure.” Janus remained silent. “What do your parents think of that?”

“They’re thrilled,” Janus lied. “It’s all Dad ever talks about, it’s a bit of a family tradition. You understand,” he said, passing back the file. “So I suppose that’s all you need from me?” he said, beginning to rise from his seat.

Logan took the file but otherwise didn’t move. “And these are your parents at the St. Jerome Foundling Home, yes?”

Janus froze, back still turned. “That’s not what my file says.”

“No, it’s not,” Logan said. “But I recognized your address from when my husband and I adopted our sons.”

Slow clapping, Janus turned with a scowl. “Most impressive detective work,” he spat before quickly schooling his features back into that stiff mask. “I suppose this is where we have a heart-to-heart and you assure me some family out there will be lucky to have me? You tell me not to give up hope, to apply myself and go to college and I skip out of here with renewed purpose and go work at a soup kitchen or something?”

“Is that what you want?” Logan asked mildly.

“What?” Janus sputtered. Visibly taken aback, he sank back down in his seat, bag still hanging from his shoulder.

“A family?” Logan turned in his seat to fully face him. “To go to college?” Emotions flashed over Janus’ face, too quickly for Logan to interpret. “I assume the soup kitchen was sarcasm but you are eligible for service credit if you decide to volunteer.” He pointed to his desk. “I have the forms if you need them.”

“Do you take everything so damn literally?” Janus asked, tone too soft to match his words.

“No.” Logan considered. “Yes. It depends on which of my sons you ask.”

Janus stared at him, mouth twitching with some unspoken comeback. His eyes held the same look they’d had when he’d been reading, though. As much as he wanted to regain the upper hand, it seemed he wanted to know what might happen next even more.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Logan prompted.

“Of course I want to go to college,” he said, crossing and uncrossing his arms. Finally he settled on folding his hands on the desk in a sphinx pose. He jerked his chin at the file still in front of Logan. “I missed the dorm deposit deadline and apartments in transit distance of the school are… prohibitive.”

“Do you drive?” Logan asked. Their high school was over ten miles from the group home. He must spend hours on buses each day.

“No, I usually have Alfred take me wherever I need to go,” he drolled.

“Right.” Logan nodded. “So housing is a major obstacle to attending school next year.”

Janus raised an eyebrow, the silent ‘Duh,’ an expression Logan recognized from Virgil’s snarkier moments.

“You haven’t yet answered my other question,” he said slowly. “Do you want a family?”

“If you ever quit teaching, you could have a career as a comedian,” Janus huffed. “The pay would be just as bad, I presume.”

“I will keep that under advisement,” Logan chuckled. “Thanks to my husband’s family, we do not have concerns on that front.”

Mouth pinched, Janus stared at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Do you want a family?” Logan asked again. “If you don’t, there are other ways we can assist you, to help ensure you can go to school once you age out of the foster care system.” He shrugged, palms up. “But if you’d like to be formally adopted before you turn eighteen, we should consider starting the process soon.”

“You’re serious.”

Logan smiled. “Indeed.”

“And this isn’t a ploy to get me to some secondary location and show me how you really want me to earn your assistance?”

Logan’s throat tightened at the flash of fear in Janus’ eyes. “No.” He shook his head and took out his phone. Thumbing through, he opened the photo roll then passed it to him. “This is my family,” he said. Janus stared at him for a moment before looked down at the photos. The most recent set were from the twins’ birthday party, including several of the cake-strewn dining room table, the result of Remus’ proud demonstration of his home-made trebuchet.

“Hate to see what the punishment for that was,” Janus muttered, scrolling through the images.

“We cleaned it up together,” Logan said. “And the trebuchet stays outside now.”

Phone still gripped in his hand, Janus searched his eyes for the lie. He didn’t find one. After another moment, he passed the phone back. “So what do you want?”

Logan pocketed the phone and shrugged. “I would like you to meet my family,” he said after a moment. “And I’d like you to consider joining it.”

“Is this just your kin—thing,” he backtracked, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. “You go around collecting wayward souls like Pokemon? That how you got them?” he asked gesturing toward the now hidden phone.

“That’s an entirely different story,” Logan said. “Would you like to meet them and find out?”

Janus' jaw twitched, eyes distant as he stared out past Logan’s shoulder. Finally, he took a deep breath and nodded. “I think perhaps I would.”

[nayiana0]

Quiet Until You | 3.5

⋮ ⌗ ┆analysis : you had everything under control—your grades, your goals, your walls. but when Choi San, the school’s troublemaker, gets assigned the seat beside you .. control is the first thing to go. he talks too much. smirks too often. And somehow, when detention throws you two into each other’s orbit for real, the tension gets harder to ignore—and so do the feelings. she was quiet. until him.

⋮ ⌗ ┆ genre : slow burn, fluff/angst, romance, enemies to lovers.

⋮ ⌗ ┆ warnings : mild angst, alcohol, emotional intensity

⋮ ⌗ ┆ wc: 3.9k

a/n : in this chapter, we’re diving into the messiness of emotions, especially when alcohol is involved and feelings are at their peak.

══════════════════════ ✧. ┊⋆ ★

*Chapter 3: Rain and Regret**

You returned to school after a few days of avoiding the noise, the stress, and the confusion that had become your life over the past week. Yunho’s presence had been a balm for your soul, his calming energy reminding you that not everything in life had to be so complicated. But now, back at school, everything felt different.

It started out of nowhere. Rumors, mostly. That San’s girlfriend was “seeing someone else on the side.” That she wasn’t all that loyal. But San didn’t react. At least, not publicly.

But you noticed.

He’d stopped walking her to class. He sat alone at lunch more often. His hoodie stayed up, eyes shadowed beneath it, jaw clenched like he was holding back everything he wanted to scream.

And sometimes — just sometimes — when he passed you in the hallway, he didn’t smirk. He didn’t say a word.

He just looked at you.

Like he remembered every second he pretended didn’t matter.

Then one day, you overheard it.

His girlfriend in the courtyard, loud enough for anyone to hear.

“I don’t associate with clingy boys. Especially ones who follow me around like lost dogs. You were fun, San, but you’re not that deep.”

He didn’t say anything.

He just walked away.

And then??

San didn’t come to school the next day.

Or the day after that.

Or the day after that.

It was… strange. Not because you missed him—at least that’s what you told yourself—but because he wasn’t the type to disappear. San thrived in chaos. He was the chaos. And now, he was just... gone.

What made it worse?

She was still around.

His girl—ex-girl?—was in the quad on Friday, laughing a little too loudly, practically in some other guy’s lap. You couldn’t help but stare. She was dressed up, makeup flawless, all smiles and sugary venom. Like none of it ever mattered.

You walked up to her, slow, cautious. “Hey… where’s San?”

She looked up at you and actually laughed. “You care?”

You frowned. “I just… haven’t seen him.”

Her face shifted instantly, from amused to ice-cold. I don’t have time for that anymore.

That.

Like he was some stray she regretted feeding.

She turned back to the guy beside her and leaned in close, whispering something that made him grin, completely dismissing you like you hadn’t even spoken.

And for reasons you didn’t want to name, your stomach dropped.

That night, you lay on your bed staring at your phone. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

ru you okay?

You typed it.

Stared at it.

Deleted it.

Rewrote it.

Finally, you just sent it.

You: ru you okay? what’s going on?

The text marked “Read.” Then the typing dots showed up.

Your heart stopped.

And then… nothing.

The dots disappeared.

You stared at the screen, waiting. Nothing.

It was late. Wind howling. Rain lashing at the windows like it was mad at the world.

Then — knock knock knock.

You sat up, heart thudding. Another knock. Three more. Urgent.

You crept to the door, peeking through the peephole.

San.

He was drenched.

Soaked down to the bone, his hoodie clinging to him like a second skin, hair matted to his forehead. He was leaning against the doorframe, swaying slightly. His hand was on the doorknob like he was trying to remember what it was.

You opened it just a crack.

“San…?”

His head snapped up at the sound of your voice.

His eyes were glassy. Red. Unfocused. Tired.

He blinked a few times. “Y/N…”

He reeked of alcohol.

“Are you drunk?”

He grinned, crooked and dazed. “I didn't know where else to go...”

“Jesus Christ.”

You opened the door wider. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the frame, but you caught him by the arms, dragging him inside before anyone saw.

He was cold. Freezing. He reeked of rain, smoke, and cheap whiskey.

“Sit. Right now.”

You guided him to the couch. He collapsed onto it like gravity had finally caught up to him.

“What the hell happened to you?” you asked, kneeling in front of him.

He looked down at you and smiled, dazed. “You’re still pretty when you’re mad.”

Your jaw clenched. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t flirt with me like nothing’s wrong.”

His smile faded. Slowly. Painfully.

“You always look at me like that,” he said hoarsely.

“Like what?”

“Like you see right through me. Even when I don’t want you to.”

You swallowed hard, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Maybe that’s the problem. I do see you.”

You got up, ignoring what he said, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, came back, and dropped it in his lap.

“Dry off,” you muttered. “You’re gonna get sick.”

He didn’t move.

You sat beside him, quiet.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” he said suddenly.

“You think?”

“I thought maybe…” He trailed off, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m fucking thinking.”

You stared at him, biting your lip. “Where have you been?”

He shrugged. “Around. Nowhere.”

“What happened with her?”

He snorted. “She dumped me. Got bored, I guess.”

Your heart twisted. Not because you were sad for him. But because you knew he wasn’t sad about her. This wasn’t about a breakup. This was something else entirely.

“Why didn’t you answer my text?”

He looked at you like the question physically hurt him.

“I wanted to,” he said, voice low. “I almost did. But then I saw your name, and it felt like…”

“Like what?”

“Like if I answered, I’d owe you the truth. And I don’t think I have it in me to be honest with you.”

You frowned. “Why?”

He turned toward you. And for a split second, he looked more sober than he had all night.

“Because the truth is I’m still thinking about that night in the library, and the time we spent together. And your skin. And your voice. And your face when I kissed you. And every part of me wants to go back to pretending I don’t care, but I can’t. Not with you.”

You swallowed hard.

“And that scares the shit out of me,” he whispered.

You didn’t say anything. Not right away.

Because this wasn’t just a drunk confession.

This was the truth unraveling.

This was San, messy and broken, sitting on your couch and letting the mask fall off — and part of you hated that it still made your heart ache for him.

You reached for the towel and gently started patting the water from his hair.

He closed his eyes.

“You’re soaked,” you murmured.

“Mmm.. I deserved it.”

“You probably did.”

He chuckled softly. “Can I stay?”

You paused.

“Just for tonight,” he added, eyes fluttering open. “I’ll crash on the floor. I just… I really don’t wanna be alone right now.”

You looked at him.

And you hated how easy the answer came.

“…Yeah,” you whispered. “You can stay.”

But you didn’t know if he meant just the floor.

And you didn’t know what it would mean if he stayed.

Not yet.

The rain kept tapping against the windows. San was curled under a blanket on your couch, wet clothes now balled up near the door, a hoodie and sweats borrowed from your brother draped on his lanky frame. He looked softer like this — all the sharp edges dulled, all that swagger drowned by whiskey and exhaustion.

You sat on the floor in front of the couch, your back resting against it, a cup of tea cooling in your hands.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Then:

“Do you ever think about that day?” His voice, quiet. Slurred around the edges, but clear enough to hit.

He sat up and sat next to you.

You didn’t answer right away. “Which one?”

He laughed, low and broken. “You know which one.”

You stared straight ahead, heart stammering. “Yeah. I think about it.”

He leaned forward suddenly, elbows on his knees, face inches from yours. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, but there was something else there too — something warmer, something almost desperate.

“You looked at me like I was worth something that night,” he said. “Like I wasn’t just some loser with a reputation.”

You swallowed hard. “Maybe I saw something in you you don’t want anyone else to see.”

He stared at you for a beat too long. “That’s what fucking scares me.”

You shifted uncomfortably. “San—”

“You still smell the same,” he interrupted, eyes dropping to your neck. “Like lavender. And books. And something that makes me feel insane and hor–.”

“Okay, you need water,” you said quickly, starting to stand.

He reached out, grabbed your wrist — not hard, just firm enough to freeze you.

“Wait.”

You looked at him. He looked… raw. Like a nerve exposed.

“I just—” His voice broke. “I wanted to tell you something.”

Your stomach flipped. “You’re drunk, San. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I am, though.” He was looking at you like you were the only real thing left in the world. “I think about you all the time. It’s annoying. I dream about you and wake up pissed off because you’re not there. I go to school hoping I don’t see you, and then I do, and it ruins me in the best possible way.”

You blinked, frozen. “San…”

And then he leaned in — slow, hesitant, but unmistakably close.

You turned your head. “No. San, no.”

He paused, breath warm against your cheek.

“Please,” he whispered. “Just… just once.”

He kissed you.

It was soft and clumsy. Tasting of regret and too much whiskey. His hand cupped your jaw like you might disappear if he let go.

You didn’t kiss him back.

He pulled away with a groan, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “What the fuck am I doing?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He slumped back onto the couch, hand dragging over his face.

“God, I’m so fucked up,” he mumbled.

You stayed where you were, stunned and trembling, the ghost of his lips still burning on yours.

Eventually, his breathing slowed. He passed out not long after.

You didn’t sleep.

You couldn’t.

morning after

Sunlight.

Too bright. Too clean.

You stood in the kitchen, mug in hand, staring blankly out the window when you heard shuffling behind you.

San padded in, hair a mess, hoodie hanging off one shoulder.

“Mmm. Coffee?” he asked with a teasing lilt, like nothing happened.

You turned slowly. “You’re up.”

He leaned against the doorway. “Barely. My head feels like it got run over.”

You studied his face. “Do you…uh.. remember anything from last night?”

He stretched, yawning. “Uh… not really. Why?”

You stared.

Nothing.

No flicker of memory. No guilt. No embarrassment.

Just San — flirty, smug, untouchable San — back like nothing happened.

He chuckled. “You take good care of me or what?”

You set your mug down.

He didn’t even know.

You forced a tight smile. “You should eat something.”

He flashed a lazy grin. “Are you gonna make it for me too? 

You stared at him. Long and cold.

He laughed. “Kidding, relax.”

But you didn’t relax.

Because now you knew the truth.

Last night, the mask had slipped. And what was underneath had nearly shattered you.

But now he was putting it back on, smooth as ever — and you weren’t sure which version of him was worse.

You stared at him, the silence between you heavy and thick. San's gaze flickered over your face, eyes glinting with that same cocky light, the kind that always made you second-guess whether he really cared about anything — or anyone.

But this time, it was different. You had felt it last night. That crack in his armor. That moment of vulnerability. And now… nothing. Just him, back to his usual self, like the night had never happened.

"Are you sure you remember nothing?" You asked again, your voice quieter this time.

San leaned against the counter, rubbing his forehead like he was still trying to wake up from a fog. "What do you mean? I told you, I barely remember anything. Was I supposed to?"

You felt a pit form in your stomach. The way he said it, so casual, so unaffected. Like it didn’t matter.

“Why do you keep fucking asking me?” His tone shifted, irritation creeping in. “Did something happen?”

You froze. There it was. That question, that exact question, hanging in the air between you two. You could feel the weight of it, suffocating you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the truth. Not when he was looking at you with that same arrogance, that same careless attitude.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “No,” you lied, forcing a smile. “Nothing happened.”

San raised an eyebrow, watching you, and for a brief second, you thought he might see right through the lie. But then, just like that, the smirk was back on his face.

“Alright then,” he said, pushing off from the counter and stretching again. “Good. Guess we’re good.”

You nodded, the tension in your chest unbearable, but you kept your composure. San had done it again. He'd twisted things so effortlessly, made it all feel like nothing — even though it had been everything.

He grabbed his phone from the counter, checking something with that half-smile plastered to his face. “Anyway, what’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”

You didn’t say anything as he moved past you, but the words burned in your throat. It felt like your insides were unraveling, but you stayed silent, watching as he made his way toward the fridge.

Why did you lie?

The question echoed in your mind, but you couldn’t answer it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

later that Day - school

The bell rang, and you found yourself heading to class in a daze. It was like you were walking in a fog, barely hearing the chatter of students around you. Everything felt muted, distant. San  had gone back to being the same San — cocky, confident, oblivious — but something had shifted in you.

You couldn’t forget what had happened, but you had no idea how to confront it.

You made your way into your first class, not looking for him, but your eyes found him anyway.

He was laughing with some friends, leaning back in his chair with that damn smirk you hated — or maybe you liked it. You couldn’t decide anymore.

You sat down in your seat, heart pounding, and tried to focus. Just ignore it. Just pretend like nothing happened.

But then, of course, San's voice sliced through the air.

“Y/N,” he called, a challenge in his tone. “You know, I don’t get why you look so mad all the time. Something wrong?”

Your chest tightened.

You tried to ignore it. Tried to keep your gaze straight ahead, but his eyes were boring into you. You could feel him watching you.

“I’m not mad,” you said quickly, maybe too quickly. “I'm just—busy.”

“Sure you are,” he shot back with a grin. “Too busy for me, huh?”

It hit you like a wave, that same rush of anger and hurt from the night before. But you bit your tongue, the lie still sitting heavily on your chest.

Instead, you forced yourself to act casual, like you weren’t completely unraveling inside.

“Nope. Just don’t want to talk,” you muttered, your voice barely audible.

“Talk to me, y/n”

“I just told you I don’t want to talk about anything, San” you said, harshly.

San looked at you with a narrowed gaze, his smirk faltering for a second, before he shrugged. “Fine, whatever.” He turned back to his friends, but you could feel the weight of his eyes still on you.

The rest of the class felt like a blur. You couldn’t focus. Your mind kept going back to that night, to the words he hadn’t remembered — or worse, the ones he had chosen to forget.

When the bell rang and you grabbed your things, you caught sight of him once more, still sitting with his friends, clearly not caring. But inside, you were shaken. You had expected something — an apology, a sign that he had cared even a little. But now, it seemed like he was content to leave it all behind, like he had never been vulnerable in the first place.

You walked out of the classroom and into the hall, trying to escape the ache in your chest. But it was still there. The uncertainty. The fear.

Was he ever real?

You didn’t have the answer. Not yet.

But you’d keep pretending like everything was fine — just like him.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It started like it always did. San sliding into the library chair across from you like he owned the air between you.

"Need help with the review packet, princess," he said, flashing that smile. The one that had made you weak once. The one that made you sick now.

You didn’t look up from your notes. "Don’t call me that."

"Sassy much..?" he muttered, flipping open his workbook. "You’re mad at me, aren’t you?"

You clenched your pen tighter. "I’m not mad."

"You’re lying," he said, voice quieter now. Like he actually gave a damn.

Your eyes stayed locked on your page, but your heart had other plans. It was already thudding in your chest, wild and reckless.

"San," you said softly. "Do you really not remember anything from that night?"

He paused. A flicker of something passed over his face. "I remember crashing on your couch. You gave me water. Probably saved me from a hangover."

"Nothing else?"

A beat. He looked at you, searching, calculating.

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

You set your pen down. Folded your hands. Looked him in the eye.

"Because you said things, San." Your voice cracked on the edges. "Things you wouldn’t say if you didn’t mean them. Or maybe you would. I don't know anymore."

He leaned back, mouth parted like he was about to answer — but he didn’t. His silence said more than he ever could.

"You said I was the only person who ever made you feel like you weren’t fucked up inside," you whispered. "You kissed me like you meant it. Then you forgot it happened."

"I—" he started, but you cut him off.

"You laughed the next day. You winked at me. Like I was some joke."

Now it was his turn to sit still. And for the first time, San didn’t have something cocky to say. He didn’t even blink.

"I don’t care if you were drunk," you said, voice low but razor-sharp. "You don’t get to play with people like that."

The silence after was suffocating.

And then — just like that — San stood. He didn’t say anything. Not a word.

But he looked at you.

And the look in his eyes… It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t cocky.

It was scared.

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

It had been three days since you left San speechless in the library.

Three days of him saying nothing. Of acting like nothing happened. You watched him from across classrooms, down hallways, as he threw his arm over someone else's shoulder, grinning like his heart wasn’t on fire. Like he hadn’t set yours ablaze and walked away.

You weren’t going to say anything.

You weren’t.

But of course — he texted you first.

San: You still mad at me?

You stared at the message. Your thumb hovered over your keyboard for a solid minute. Then:

You: I’m not mad. Just… tired.

He read it. Left it on “Seen.”

Then five minutes later:

San: what are we, Y/N?

The breath left your lungs.

You blinked at the screen. Re-read it three times. Typed a response. Deleted it. Typed another. Deleted that too.

Eventually you sent nothing.

But two minutes later, another message came through:

San: ok fine, i'll go first.

San: you’re the only thing i don’t want to ruin. so tbh i haven’t figured it out yet.

San: but i think about you all the fucking time. San: that’s gotta count for something, right?

Your chest ached. The worst part was, it did count. It counted for too much.

You put your phone down and crawled under the covers.

You didn’t reply.

Because part of you still didn’t know if it was real… Or if you were just his favorite game.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the silence between you and San was like a weight that neither of you had the courage to address. You expected him to be distant, to act like nothing was wrong, but as soon as you stepped into the hall, there he was — leaning against the locker, arms crossed, a cocky grin on his face, but his eyes were a little too intense.

It was like he was waiting for something.

“Hey,” he said casually, like he hadn't just sent you a text that shook you up the night before. “So… didn’t get a reply last night.”

You froze mid-step. His voice had that familiar, teasing tone, but there was a weight behind it now. You knew what he meant.

“Why didn’t you respond?” he pressed, tilting his head slightly, daring you to say something — anything.

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest. Everything you wanted to say felt like it was stuck in your throat. You could’ve told him you were waiting for him to show he cared, that you were tired of the games, but something in his eyes, something in his posture, told you he wasn't going to let this go until you said something.

So, you just did what you couldn’t stop yourself from doing.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him into a kiss. It was quick, but it felt like everything shifted in that moment — a gasp of air, a spark of heat that was suddenly alive between you.

He froze, a breath catching in his throat, before his hands slid up to your neck and deepened the kiss. It was slow, tender, like he was testing the waters, but the weight of it — the longing, the tension between you two that had built up for days — it was impossible to ignore.

Your chest fluttered, but it was too much, too fast. You pulled away abruptly, heart racing, face flushed.

"I— I’m sorry," you murmured, backing up, shaking your head. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He looked at you for a moment, eyes softening, not the cocky smirk you expected but something deeper. Then, without warning, he reached out, cupping your face in his hands, and kissed you again — slow, controlled, like he wasn’t about to let you go this time.

And this time? You didn’t pull back.

He kissed you like he knew it was dangerous, like he knew this could burn everything to the ground. But neither of you cared. The world around you faded. All that mattered was the heat, the closeness, the fact that he wasn't just some game anymore. You weren't just another face in the crowd.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. "You don’t need to apologize," he murmured. “Not for that.”

You couldn’t breathe properly. Your heart was still pounding, thumping so loudly you could hear it in your ears. “I just— I don’t know what’s going on,” you confessed softly.

He smiled, that damn cocky smirk, but there was something different in the way he looked at you now, something genuine. “Well, whatever it is,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in days, you believed him.

—-----

Masterpost Next

[freak-attorney]

Do you have any school related (highschool and/or college) related AA headcanons? I'm not sure how schooling worked exactly for Mia, Maya, and Pearl given where they lived, so I dunno. Mainly Phoenix, Edgeworth, Franziska and Gumshoe

Ace Attorney HS/Uni Headcanons!

(I admittedly haven't thought about this much before but I'm happy to share!)

Phoenix Wright

High School

Really good at creative writing

Good at the humanities in general

Barely passed chemistry (started a fire in the lab and had to let his partner take over for the rest of the year)

Best friends with his Language Arts teacher

Got detention for being late to class too much

Did NOT pass the Presidential Fitness Test (he couldn't do a pull up)

On a first name basis with the lunch ladies

Applied to maybe 3 colleges

He was a band kid for sure... probably played the clarinet

University/College

Was really good friends with his roommate but they lost touch once he went to law school

Not great at pottery but still made little projects to give to his friends whenever he took a class

Rushed a few fraternities (he didn't get a bid to any of them)

Didn't learn how to talk to girls until Dahlia/Iris

Took a few philosophy classes and yapped in every discussion

Joined a debate club.. he lost most of the time but it made him want to get better!

Was very much oblivious to every girl that ever attempted to flirt with him

Had a group of 3-4 friends that he ate lunch with at the same time everyday

Got super wasted at a party and ended up in the front yard of a frat house off campus

Sweatpants + a hoodie were his go to fits

Miles Edgeworth

High School

Did not get along with many others

Went to public school up until high school where he went to a fancy private school

HATED group projects (asked the teachers if he could just do it himself)

It still haunts him that he got a "B" in Physics

Definitely took APUSH/any AP class he could

Did dual enrollment (completed his Associates)

Helped with the theatre program but only as part of the crew (probably stage manager or lead tech)

Valedictorian

Grade "A" instigator (he started a few fights)

Perfect attendance

Headphones in ALL THE TIME

Applied to at least 30 colleges

Scarily good at dodgeball whenever they played in phys ed

Threw up when they had to do frog dissections

College/University

Refused one of his top choices due to their communal showers

Never spoke a word to his roommate

Became a fan of women's rugby (introduced Franzi to it)

Thought Greek life was a waste of time and never even thought about rushing

Didn't go to a single party

Practically lived in the library

Took a class that introduced him to digital art and he really liked it (he didn't have time to continue it once the class ended)

Franziska von Karma

High School

Well-liked or feared?? Depends on who you ask

Fancy private schools her entire life. High school was no different.

Went through a phase of growing out her bangs but hated it

Full face of makeup every. single. day.

Straight A's (Papa would NOT be happy with anything less)

Extremely competitive with EVERYTHING (even the pacer test)

Excelled in the hard sciences but still went into law

She was the teacher's pet but no one dared to call her on it

Applied to every college she could find

Color coordinated notes for each class

Turned in assignments weeks before they were due

Dual enrollment/AP/IB is a given

She was in chorus (Alto)

Used a leather crossbody in place of a normal backpack

Valedictorian but she doesn't see it as a "real" achievement

College/University

Heavily involved with research

Knew her major the moment she applied (probably before then)

President of the debate team

Requested to not have a roommate

On the women's rugby team

Made out with one of the members of said rugby team and was too embarrassed afterwards to show up to practice for the next week (this one is so specific sorry)

Dressed well for class no matter how early

But she preferred late classes

Took many walks around campus at night

Got invited to Greek life formals (they were very bluntly turned down)

Overpacked for the school year every single time

Started the knitting club

Took ochem "for fun"

Godot/Diego

High School

Looked like a jock stereotype

Bullied the bullies

Public school all the way man

Kept photos of all his friends in his locker

On the track & field team (pole vaulting was his favorite)

Did swimming for a year (butterfly is his stroke)

Had several girlfriends before buckling down senior year and focusing on studying

Failed History

Took Spanish for his foreign language (he already knew it)

Applied to any college where he could get a scholarship

College/University

Involved in EVERYTHING

Didn't get along well with his roommate (Diego's side of the room was always messy)

Switched his major several times (started with music, then bio, then landed on polysci)

Definitely a tour guide

Continued playing sports throughout uni (including intramurals)

Joined 2 frats

Volunteered a lot (service distinction)

Got a job at a coffee shop near campus and that's where it all began...

Started growing out his facial hair sophomore year

Dick Gumshoe

High School

Not the smartest guy, but probably the nicest

Got along with everyone no problem

Found ways to skip phys ed

Friends with the nurse (very clumsy)

Excelled in trigonometry but not much else

Went to all the football games

Probably signed up to be the mascot

Did just enough to pass his classes

Fell asleep during class a lot

The chatty guy on the bus

Unintentional class clown

Spoke up in class a lot even if he was wrong

College/University

Only got into one college... but it was the one he really wanted!

Didn't do well in core classes but once he got to things he was interested in it was practically straight A's

Considered being a teacher for a long time but decided on detective

Signed up for a philosophy class but dropped it

Super interested in entomology

Joined club basketball (he wasn't super good but he had fun)

Kept the same roommate for all 4 years and still talks to him from time to time

Pretty well known on campus ("oh you mean the big, loud guy with the green jacket?")

Started wearing his iconic jacket at this time

Always wore jeans no matter the weather

Went to a few parties even though it's not his scene (some friends wanted him to go with them)

Received surprise bids from some fraternities but he declined

That's what I have for now! I hope you enjoyed, anon!!! I added Godot because I love him 🙂‍↕️

(feel free to request any other headcanons, I love making them! Other fandoms I'm in include Danganronpa (only played THH), Banana Fish, Haikyuu, Free, and Kakegurui!)

[i-would-like-to-leave]

How many scenarios did Kim Dokja actually complete? Let’s count them!

Now, this depends on what we count as scenarios, for which I will be counting anything that came with the scenario window, defined by [these] or <these> brackets, that Kim Dokja actually got assigned, not just that he participated in, and scenarios he failed will be mentioned but not counted.

Main Scenarios:

#1 - Prove your Value

#2 - Escape

Point and laugh for failing not even two scenarios in

#3 - Green zone (Day 3)

#4 - Struggle for the Flag

Updated to: The King’s Qualifications

#5 - Disaster of Floods

This one is most likely on its own because the other disasters were all defeated before the official start of the main scenario, Disaster of Questions will be listed elsewhere.

#6 - ???

Updated to: Abandoned World

#8 - The Strongest Sacrifice

#9 - Demon’s Proof

Updated to: ???

Updated to: 73rd Demon King

#10 - 73rd Demon King

Same name as the updated #9, will be counted as separate as it may be an error and it’s a big enough difference in description I’ll let it go

#25 - Demon King Selection

#45 - Glorious Return

Will have to check whether or not he actually gets the scenario window in the 1863rd turn, let me know if he does

#46 - Proof of the Stars

#60 - Gigantomachia

#80 - Reincarnation Island

#84 - Great War of Saints and Demons

This scenario is written as both #80 and #84, I will count it as separate in this case.

#89 - Final Dragon of the Book of Revelation

Listed as its own thing, maybe because it is normally its own thing and not just a punishment for messing up in the Great War.

#94 - Journey to the West Remake

#95 - Owner of the [Journey to the West]

#98 - Candidate Ballot

These three could be counted as one because they are technically the same scenario, but they’re mentioned separately so…

#99 - Escape

The repeat in name… both with the holding/dropping by the neck… this time it is successful.

Updated to: Enemy of the Story

Updated to: ■ ■ ■

That’s 19 main scenarios… gotta love the three year time skip.

Sub Scenarios:

Food Acquisition

Kill the Guard

Welcome Prison

Elect a Representative

Forced Succession

Survival Activities

Disaster Prevention

Updated to: SSS-grade Hunt

Liberate the Slaves

Story Repair

Martial Arts Competition

Gourmet Association Betting

Skirmish

(Secretive Plotter) - ???

Updated to: End of the Regressor

Entertainment of Ruin

Myth Subversion

Seoul Revolution

Genre Selection

Workers’ Off-day

Failed. Shame him.

Capture the Squid

18 this time! Last category now!

Hidden Scenarios:

Commander Slayer

Theatre Dungeon

The King’s Road

United You Die, Scattered You Die

Artifact Trials

Scenic Walk

Snake Hunt

Self Proclaimed Revolutionary

Updated to: Fake Revoluntionary

I feel this should be counted as a failure because he didn’t actually complete it for himself, he completed it for Yoo Joonghyuk, but I might not as Yoo Joonghyuk did complete for him… fine. He wins this time.

The Kim Dokja Game

Updated to: Kim Dokja Proof of Identity

A Single Story

Escape the Demon World

World Adaptation

Survival Game

Snatching Modifiers

Verifying Agreement

I lost a shell by mistake

One Single Story

That’s 17 hidden scenarios!

Totals:

Overall, Kim Dokja completed 54 scenarios!

He failed 2 scenarios!

If you have something to add or think I’ve made a mistake, please comment what it is so I can add/fix it! Have a good day!

[starburstsobsessions]

Well citizens I completed my last assignment and I am officially DONE for the college semester and NOW I am graduating with an ASSOCIATE IN ARTS 🥳 Gotta wait for my grades finishing up (begging) until I can decide if I'm totally happy or not. If I don't keep my 4.0 throughout this I'll combust.

[intersex-questions]

I've been questioning whether I have PAIS and I need secondhand opinions (delete if uncomfortable);

I got puberty pretty early (think 3rd to 4rth), and I'm tall for someone assigned as a female. I have a weird abnormal look to my genitalia (looks female but the clit looks a bit big and the side things (forgot name) seem longer than necessary) But I have more puberty (pubic, armpit) hair, and oddly seeming to grow a mustache.

But what throws me off guard is that PAIS searching says no cramps or menstruations - which I have, but they're not bad.

What do you think? /Gen

→👓

By things on the side, I'm not sure if you mean the outer labia or inner labia, but both of which can have certain differences that are associated with being intersex, BUT variation in them is also completely normal for perisex people as well. If you're interested in seeing variation, check out the Labia Library (https://www.labialibrary.org.au/). Please note these images don't give us information about who the person is--they could be trans or intersex for all we know. I'm assuming you mean USAmerican 3rd or 4th grade, but everyone's ages are different at that time so it's a bit hard to tell from that. Body hair variation is common and many even perisex people who were assigned female at birth have some level of facial hair. It's just more the degree to which these things are present and the combination of several things that can sometimes be why someone would be considered intersex, especially if you're looking at someone's chromosomes or someone's testosterone levels in their blood, for example.

Other than PAIS, you might want to look into hyperandrogenism as well as NCAH! I'd also just do some research on precocious puberties and contrasexual precocious puberty in general. Menarche also occurs earlier on average than it has historically in many different places, such as the USA. Currently, early puberty for people assigned female at birth is usually when someone is 8 or younger, but it can depend, because many different factors and aspects of their self (such as race, class, country of origin, etc.) have different averages for things like menarche.

[querytheauthor]

Hello! I hope you are doing well!

I am feeling incredibly unmotivated lately in college. I’m still trying because I want the grades but there’s no passion for learning. Do you have any tips for motivation? How do you manage your stress?

I hope you are having an amazing day!! Please take care of yourself!

Greetings!

I'm sorry to hear that your motivation and passion levels have dropped. College—or any post-secondary studies, on that matter—certainly has a way of sucking that out of you. I'm glad to hear that you are still working hard, but I would be absolutely thrilled to help you with finding strategies for lifting your morale.

Personally, one thing I did to motivate myself was to measure my growth in education. Try to source an assignment from your youth and compare it to your own work, but most importantly, allow yourself to be absolutely vain and prideful. Look at you! You've written both of these! Look at how far you've come. I can only imagine how much more you're going to blossom in these coming years. You're going to go far.

Another strategy would perhaps be classical conditioning. I'm not sure if you've heard of it, but it comes from an experiment enacted in the 1890s by Ivan Pavlov, a Russian physiologist. In summary, the experiment contained a neutral stimulus, an unconditioned stimulus, and an unconditioned response. When a dog was presented with an unconditioned stimulus (food), it induced an unconditioned response (salivating/drooling). When presented with a neutral stimulus (a bell), there was a lack of an unconditioned response. However, after conditioning the dog by presenting both the food and the bell together at all times, the dog reacted with a conditioned response (salivating/drooling) to the conditioned stimulus (solely the bell), due to the relation that was made between the food and the bell. Perhaps you or somebody else could enact a similar experiment on yourself—find an unconditioned stimulus, such as food or a thrilling activity, that you can associate with the completion of schoolwork, which would be your neutral stimulus. The completion of schoolwork must be the first thing done before the unconditioned stimulus of your choice. Over a period of time, you will begin to associate the completion of your schoolwork with said "reward".

Finally, and most importantly, try to find joy in the smallest things relating to your schoolwork. Perhaps you can begin to find ways to utilize your preferred form of punctuation in writing, or brainstorm more creative ways to complete your assignments. Do not wear yourself out entirely. You seem like a very talented academic. Most people would not attempt to find solutions to this dilemma. Sometimes, even if you believe you're entirely tired, a small break or vacation is all you need to regain the thrill of education. I believe in you, and I'm sure that many others do, but most importantly, I sincerely hope you believe in yourself. This is your life. You are in control.

I do hope my advice was helpful. It's been quite a while since I've attended any formal education, so many of my strategies escape my mind, but I wish you the absolute best. Hang in there. I hope that you have an amazing day, too—and I hope that you take care of yourself the most!

[shaethebratz]

˚₊‧ʚ♡ɞ‎‧₊˚02.03.25: the start of a new week (and month) ˚₊‧ʚ♡ɞ‎‧₊˚

⠀:¨ ·.· ¨:⠀ ⠀ `· . ୨୧⠀check-in day: 1

today's to-dos:

read chapter 6 (attitudes can shape your life) since this is a short chapter, i can go ahead and complete all the assignments associated with this chapter.

read chapter 4 (anesthesia) another short chapter, but its coding...there's nothing short about coding :(

email my professor about an assignment that already has a grade (of 0 btw) that was due by the end of this week??? like how??

self-care moments of the day:

made myself matcha which is always a fun time

watched a sermon today (matthew 21:12-17)

took a long shower that was well needed

ordered a maple bacon croissant from dunkin with a medium matcha (yes another matcha. I'm trying to stay away from coffee as much as possible) and hashbrowns

take all vitamins? yes

mood check-ins:

1:17 pm: feeling okay for the most part. im procrastinating per usual, but maybe a nice shower will help motivate me. heavy on the maybe

8:24 pm: feeling a lot better than before. the shower helped me out a lot, but I've had a headache for the past 3-4 hours now. heading to bed soon ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: "WRECK ME- jxdn" 01:23 ━━━━●───── 03:43 ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ ---˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹---

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ see you soon ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: I Just Really Hate Your Face

summary: Top Student Damian Wayne is assigned to tutor his high school's resident Juvenile Delinquent, Jonathan Kent, who seems less interested in his work and more interested in his handsome tutor.

Damian is *not* having it.

aka the Bad Boy x Good Student Jondami AU no one really asked for but i delivered anyways

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that, sir?” Damian gritted out, unbelieving. 

Oblivious to the pain in his voice, the principal repeated what he had said just moments before in an overly-cheery tone.

“You are being assigned to tutor Jonathan Kent. Hopefully, you’ll be able to get his grades up by the end of this year, for both semesters. And perhaps you may be able to corral him into actually showing at his classes.”

Damian controlled the scowl beginning to show on his face. Jonathan Kent was the worst possible student he could have gotten. What would merely associating himself with a boy like that do to his spotless reputation? Surely, this would be placed on his record, and he didn’t see how tutoring the school’s resident juvenile delinquent would appeal him to universities.

And he was supposed to influence him? Gods above, help him.

“Sir. With all due respect, why is he even in this program? Certainly there are many other viable candidates…more respectable people that would benefit from my teaching.” he attempted to phrase this in a way that was not outright insulting.

“Damian, you are well aware, I'm sure, that you are this academy’s top student, and you’ve worked hard to get to this spot, unlike many other kids. I think that you can give Mr. Kent a push in the right direction, if not outright change him for the better. You signed up for this program, did you not?”

“I did, sir.” if not only for the nice view if would give his college admission.

“Then you will work with the student assigned to you. However, if there is no improvement, or you truly can’t manage him, you will have the option to switch, or drop the program completely. Is this more reasonable?”

Hm. It would have to do. “Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

Let it be known that Damian Wayne was not a quitter, and stubborn enough to move a mountain with a single word if he so chose. Jonathan Kent would be a changed student by the end of the year, if he had his way.

Jon Kent rolled into school at approximately 12:37 on a saturday morning, already fifteen minutes late to his tutoring session. It was absolute hell for those forcing him to go to even make him get dressed, and he was prepared to stall as long as possible. Hell, if he was lucky, the tutor would be pretty and he could score himself a ticket outta there with a wink and a few well timed smiles. 

He entered the library, doing a quick once over, straightening his jacket and checking his eyeliner.

“Your studies are much more important than your appearance, Mr. Kent.” a voice drawled from behind him, and as he turned, a smirk came over his features.

Hello, Gorgeous.

The boy in front of him had delicately sharp features, striking green eyes framed by long lashes. His skin was a tantalizing carmel, clashing beautifully with the forest sleeves of his sweater. 

“If you could remove your jaw from the floor, we should begin.”

He had a mouth on him too. Perfect. 

“No name for me? Guess I'll just have to call you Beautiful.” Jon purred, the other boy’s face twisting in something that was definitely not a blush.

“It’s Damian. My name is Damian. We’re fifteen minutes behind already, if you could please take a seat.” 

Jon sidled up to his side as they walked towards the table with a sheaf of papers. 

“Damian, huh?” he tested the name out, rolling off his tongue pleasantly.

“Sounds familiar. Have we had a class together? I could swear we have chemistry .”

Damian looked torn between strangling Jon and strangling himself, settling only for a glare.

Jon was getting slightly annoyed. This guy was not taking the bait, and that was an excellent line for a nerd. 

“ Sit. ” Damian pointed to the chair, Jon muttering ”Bossy.” under his breath.

“Let me make myself extremely clear, Jonathan, I have one job here, and that is to raise your grades. If I don't, it will not look good for me, and will look even worse for you. I’m not here for you to flirt with, make friends, or be stared at, nor roped into whatever it is you have going on here.” Damian gestured to his whole with a manilla folder in hand.

Well. If that wasn’t both flat out rejection and  warning all at once, Jon'd be dammed. It hurt his pride slightly and added more fuel to the slowly building flame of annoyance.

“And what is this , exactly? Is that why you’re here? Teacher’s Pet turns the bad one into a brand-new man ?” 

Damian snorted. “As if anyone could part you from your disastrous fashion and life choices. No, as I've stated, I'm here to make your grades better, by having you do all the work.”

“That’s a contradictory statement.”

“Would you look at that, you’re already using your big boy words.” He deadpanned, flipping open the folder to show Jon’s transcripts.

“Honestly, just looking at these makes me want to burn them. The only class you are currently passing is AP Physics, with an 89%.” 

Huh, apparently he wasn’t completely dense.

“I can taste the approval, do good grades turn you on?” Jon taunted. “Must be so great, getting all the way to the top with only Daddy’s money.”

A dangerous scowl overtook his face and Jon quickly realized that was too far for today.

“For your information, Kent , not everyone has managed to stay in this school based on money and reputation alone, despite your clearly projected opinions. Now, should we get started, or do you have any more poorly based comments to share with the class?”

Jon glowered at both him and the papers, shaking his head once in a firm “No.”

“Good.” Damian’s smile was predatory in a way where he knew he had already won.

The other boy put up a stubborn fight when it came to learning, purposefully answering questions wrong and poking at Damian to watch him snap.There was a self-satisfied smirk when he did so, the older boy looking as if he wished to slap it off his face. 

After the third or fourth time of this, Damian slammed the math book closed.

“Kent, I’d like to pride myself on endurance when it comes to annoyances, due to several older brothers and sisters. However, should this continue, I have no qualms about leaving you to repeat your next two years five times over.”

“Can’t handle the heat, get out of the oven.” Jon challenged.

Damian, to his annoyance, appeared unfazed. “I should be saying this to you, when a few years from now, you’ll still be here. Now, should I go, or will you at least look like you’re attempting to be competent?”

Pretty face, pretty form, ugly words. 

Jon bit at his bottom lip, face turning into more of a petulant pout then a scowl. “Fine.”

What a child.

Damian made a dismissive ‘tt’ noise, and began the lesson again.

Two hours later, they emerged from the school, one with his pride flattened and brimming with emotions, and one with a folder and a smug smirk.

Jon spotted his elder brother Kon in the corner of the parking lot, perched on a motorcycle. He had a stupidly knowing grin on his face, causing Jon to scowl.

He swung a leg over the side and held onto his brother’s jacket.

“Next week, I expect you to be on time. Understood, Kent?” Damian tapped a pen to the large folder he held. He seemed completely undaunted by the fact that there was a motorcycle being driven by the school’s ex-local bad boy in front of him.

“Whatever.” 

“Try again, Kent.”

Jon huffed. “Yes, I'll try to make it on time.” 

“Good.” Damian flipped through the folder in front of him. “Your superiors will be pleased with these results. If you continue like this, we’ll be seeing a significant increase in your performance marks.”’

He nodded towards Kon as he closed the folder. “Have a pleasant evening, Connor. You as well, Jonathan.”

He walked away and the moment he was out of earshot, Kon pulled off his helmet and began to howl with laughter.

“Oh my God, you are whipped !” 

“Shut the fuck up, Connor, I am not and I hate his guts! Self-righteous little brat .” Jon hissed.

“He has you wrapped around his finger! At this rate, he’ll have whipped you into shape by the end of the semester!” He wiped away tears of laughter, chuckling still.

“I will resist.” Jon scowled. “And you’re smudging your eyeliner.”

“Am not! Brat.” Kon then returned to his knowing smirk. “Bet five bucks you thought he was hot, tried to hit on him and he rejected you to high hell.”

Jon’s silence was proof enough, sending Kon into another fit of laughter.

“Those Wayne boys, Jonno. The way you were headed, I’m surprised fate’s taken this long to send one to you. First Wally, then Roy, then me, and now you.”

“I will continue where I'm headed, and no stupid, annoying, pot-stirring stuck up good boys with pretty eyes are going to change me. Now drive.”

He kicked his older brother’s leg, Kon pulling his helmet back on. “Whatever you say, superbrat. But when you come crying to me when you can’t get past their straight A’s no-time-for-feelings exterior, I’ll have a bigass ‘told you so’ waiting for ya.”

Jon glowered as the bike started up. “Well, you can save it, cause it won’t happen!”

“Can’t hear you!” Kon sing-songed over the roar of the bike.

“Asshole!”

[ummmuhhidk]

ooh tag game

(get to know your mutuals thing) thank you @watertankafternoon :)

what's the origin of your username? i didnt know what to put as my username because all the ones i tried were taken and entered this outta anger. and voila

OTP(s) + shipname: funny you ask that! i am never telling you

favorite colour: green :) (specifically like a teal-ish aquamarine-ish sorta thing. #97f0e5 is close i think)

songs stuck in my head: oh man oh man. theres a couple:

- "The Ultimate Sandwich" by Ninja Sex Party (about a man who harbors perverse sexual lust for a sandwich)

- "Instrument of Surrender" by Sea Power (disco elysium ost fucks hard as hell)

- tsurupettan (i was listening to the umineko ost)

- “D/N/A” by Azari (ive associated it w something so whenever i hear it i think of that thing. but also its suuuuuch a good song)

weirdest habit/trait: probably hiding everything ever from everyone until im sure they wont hate me (i manipulated a friend into mentioning she liked a show to me by reading the whole book series the show was based on. why am i dancing around saying it goddamnit its sherlock i read all of the sherlock holmes stories in 8th grade every last one so my friend saw me reading them and would mention bbc sherlock so i could have an excuse to watch it. im very normal)

hobbies: playing video games, reading, collecting things (crow behavior, i know), coding (sometimes), Knowing Stuff (psychology specifically), thinking about morality and ethics and all that stuff because its fun! :)

if you work, what's your profession? fighting for my life out here in the education system

if you could have any job you wish what would you have? hmmmm this is a hard one, ideally id have none because depression but maybe a software engineer? i like coding things :) ahh also a psychologist would be cool! OH WAIT ALSO maybe beekeeper :)

something you're good at: comic relief i would hope, though with a lot of tasks i am reduced to a bumbling fucking idiot. also maybe debating some certain topics ?? but only certain ones

something you hate: man i dunno. i dont feel that kind of hate in my heart. except for when i do but i dunno. uhh OH people who get overly angry at niche and completely useless discourse. like stop it. go frolic in a field or whatever leave me alone

something you collect: a lotta fuckin things, currently im into 100%ing a buncha games. also i wanna work on a living shiny dex in pokemon but that takes so long... ah well

something you forget: birthdays, uhhhmmm. uhhhh. many other things

favorite movies/shows: UHHH UMM UHHHHHH im rly secretive about this stuff on main. dunno why. just am. anyways um mayyyyybe uhhhhhhh sorry im scared. i just dont say this stuff man idk

favorite food: i dunno. sugar is good? corndogs are also very good? i forget what other answers i could have to this

favorite animal: cats and penguins :)

what were you like as a child? during all of elementary school i was all like. i was the sort of autistic kid who was "an old soul" or "mature for their age" (im really into higurashi right now so i wanna compare myself at that time to rika furude). anyways the first day i got to middle school i was wayyy less shy (and could now swear!) and yeah nothin much changed since.

favorite subject in school: chemistry (10th grade), easiest A ive ever gotten. literally had like 98-100% percent in class damn near always

least favorite subject: PE and english (massive vocabulary, canNOT write any assignments for shit)

what's your best character trait? the consistency of my "fuck it we ball" mentality

what's your worst character trait? the consistency of my "fuck it we ball" mentality

if you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? make me able to shapeshift. or give me a billion dollars i guess that works too

if you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? dont know :(

@ fuckin anyone. have fun w it !!!!! participate to your hearts content!!!!

[the-lincyclopedia]

I hate generative AI and am deeply concerned about the environmental degradation and labor abuses associated with it.

But sometimes I hear a disabled friend angsting about being on the edge of flunking out of college and needing to email their professor by midnight to ask for an extension but having trouble forming complete sentences due to the combination of stress and their existing disabilities, and a big part of me wants to say, "Use Chat GPT."

Not for an assignment. Not for a paper or lab report or anything graded. But for communicating about their needs when other forms of communication are inaccessible to them? I can picture being okay with that.

Obviously that's not the ideal solution. But I think the ideal solution is a world where disability accommodations are genuinely guaranteed and also take into account flares and communication difficulties and the unpredictable nature of dynamic disabilities. And where college is both more compatible with the realities of human life and less necessary for getting a job that pays a living wage. And where labor is decoupled from having the material resources to survive.

But an anxious, disabled college student can't make that world exist, especially not in the few hours they have to ask for an extension. They can find a way to send an email, or not.

I understand that disabled people find lots of ingenious ways to do all sorts of things while being disabled. I want to be very clear that I'm not saying disabled people need generative AI to make art, nor do I think it's ethical for people (disabled or not) to use generative AI to do graded work to get through school.

What I'm saying is that we live in a world that demands communication via words a lot of the time, and sometimes that isn't possible for some people, at least on the timeline it's being demanded, and it's hard to know a tool exists and watch a friend struggle and not suggest using the tool.

[skwpr]

7 Terrible Study Habits To Quit Immediately

Not Making To-Do Lists

If you’re going into a study session without a plan or to-do list regarding what you’re going to study, you’re not properly maximizing your time. 

I usually start working on homework assignments as soon as school is over; but before I actually start, I review the day’s classes and make a list of the assignments I have to do.

It’s also helpful to prioritize so you can efficiently finish your homework. I usually do this on my laptop with digital sticky notes (like the image below), but you can also use a physical planner and to-do lists.

Making lists and setting goals doesn’t just apply to homework, though. Whenever you’re having a study session or attending a lecture, come prepared! Always preview the work beforehand and make a to-do list of important things you’ll learn or will go over.

Writing to-do lists will help you organize your tasks while studying, and is a great study habit to build to effectively tackle your busy study life. 

Not Prioritizing

Prioritizing comes hand in hand with making to-do lists, and it’s key to studying productively without feeling burnt out. 

Once you’ve got your to-do list written out, analyze each task and determined which are the most important and urgent. These could be based on a variety of factors, like:

Due date

Time it will take to complete

Percentage of your grade

Difficulty

Whether you’ll be collaborating with someone

Once you’ve ranked each task on your to-do list (don’t worry, it will become easier as you do this more often), you can get to work with a sense of purpose and structure.

Having structure has always been one of my top study habits and has helped me stay productive, and I hope you’ll try it as well!

Having Your Phone Near

Your phone is likely your biggest distraction while studying. It just holds so many interesting things, especially social media and entertainment. These will distract you and cause you to procrastinate or multitask while studying, both terrible study habits.

It’s not easy to break your phone addiction completely, but physically keeping your phone away can definitely help. When your phone is in another room, you won’t be exposed to constant notifications and will then stay focused and productive while studying.

However, if you find extreme difficulty in separating from your phone, you can begin by turning off social media notifications. Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, etc. can be hard to quit once you open them, so avoid doing so in the first place by turning off notifications.

Looking & Not Seeing

I used to take notes by reading the textbook and copying down whatever I thought was important. I highlighted terms, underlined names, drew some pictures… but the entire time, I didn’t really understand what was going on.

Whenever you’re taking notes, annotating a document, reading an essay, or learning something new in general, actively see and understand, not just look and accept.

This means that you should think about what you’re learning, pose questions to yourself and/or the teacher, make connections with your previous knowledge, and overall put thought into what you’re learning.

Just looking and not seeing is a study habit you should quit immediately, as it is a complete waste of time and effort on your part. Only when you actively use your brain to understand and form connections will the information stick.

Studying In Bed

Your bed is where your body associates with rest and play, and your mind will not be focused enough for you to study productively and effectively. Therefore, what you should do is to study in a designated study space like your desk.

However, it’s important to note that you should only study at your desk as well, and not watch movies, go on your phone, etc. Only when you clearly separate spaces for work/rest will your body and mind make the same associations.

So get up and off your bed and move to a desk or table the next time you’re studying, then jump back when you want to rest; be sure to make this a habit!

Procrastinating

Procrastination is one of the most common bad study habits students have. When you get intimidated by your work or distracted by something fun, you often end up procrastinating for more than you intended.

But it’s not impossible to beat procrastination! One of the best tips I have is to plan ahead and break things down. Similar to making to-do lists, doing these 2 things will give you structure and actionable steps, which will make everything seem easier.

Relying On The Textbook

The last bad study habit that many students don’t realize is their complete dependence on the textbook. No textbook is perfectly exhaustive and comprehensible, so it’s important to utilize outside resources as well.

Though reading the textbook can be of great help, you sometimes need more information (or simply more opinions) to fully comprehend something. Therefore, a good habit to build would be to search around more.

Here are some resources you can use other than the textbook to learn about a certain topic:

Your teacher or classmates

Wikipedia (great for people and historical events)

Britannica (great for people, concepts/ideas, and events)

YouTube (best for math and science concepts)

Quora (best for abstract/opinion-based ideas)

Once you break these 7 bad study habits, you’ll be ready to become a better student and tackle your studies with no trouble.