#reading the book due to uni lecture

[overthattwilight]

The surprising thing while reading The strange case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, is that the book doesn't show Jekyll is Hyde even when he dies. And then the truth is revealed through others' narrative when the story is almost finished

Anyway, the book is good. It's a nice gothic horror mystery novel to read

[raven-cincaide]

Post-Canon! Megumi is a university student. His friends think he needs a break from all the curses and fighting so he can finally heal. Yuji says its a chance for Megumi to find the person who'll Megumi want to live for. Nobara says that even if he doesn't find anyone, they've already sacrificed so much; they need some kind of backup plan in case they ever need to leave the front lines. In truth, Yuji and Nobara just want to spend their youth exploring normal human things, and Megumi honestly can’t fault them. He doesn’t understand it but he doesn’t want to be left behind. So he tags along because.. well.. what else is he supposed to do?

Post-Canon! Megumi doesn’t know what to study. So he picks up a little bit of everything. He creates a schedule that fits his self-applied expectations and overachieving tendencies, going well above and beyond full-time studies. He keeps his mind occupied so he doesn't have to think about how hard it is to blend in, make new friends, and be human. (Un)fortunately, Yuji and Nobara don't let him avoid the campus life forever. 

Post-Canon! Megumi builds a routine he finds satisfactory which includes studying, gym, late night parties and nerdy book clubs. Hell, he picks up anything that makes him forget about curses and being a sorcerer. He promised himself he would be 'normal' while at uni and he made a promise his friends. University life may not be Megumi's calling but he wasn't about to let his friends down. So he does everything to avoid being tempted back into that life.

Post-Canon! Megumi notices you the second you enter one of his classes. He can tell you are a sorcerer. Instantly, he decides he wants nothing to do with you. He tries to make himself invisible, hunches down, pretends to read a book. Despite his closed body language, his eyes flicker over to you occasionally, although he quickly catches himself and goes straight back to reading. 

Post-Canon! Megumi is surprised when you approach his desk- one of the few remaining seats near the front. He is more surprised when you politely ask if you can sit beside him even though he doesn’t own the seat. It makes him unsure, fascinated, yet flustered. “Sure”, he replies, then a second later, grabs his bag, stands, and walks out of the class. He leaves minutes before the start, skipping his first class ever. He knows he’s being rude; he knows he undoubtedly embarrassed you. But he can’t get mixed up with Jujutsu- not when he started liking uni.

Post-Canon! Megumi swears he sees you everywhere and avoids you like the plague. Yet his eyes always seek you out, and his brain takes note of every little thing about you, from the casual sweatpants and hoodie you wear to morning classes to how you’re dolled up at late-night parties. Your laugh, your make-up, the perfume you wear, depending on your mood- he notices it all. He feels all sorts of emotions when he sees you yet squelches those in the far back of his mind. No, he keeps his distance even as you get close to Yuji and Nobara. If you three are eating together, he’ll skip lunch, if you three are hanging out, he’ll cancel last minute. Sometimes, his friends let him get away with it- but more often than not, Yuji or Nobara see right through him and force him to sit beside you. And the awkwardness can be cut through with a knife. 

Post-Canon! Megumi notices when you’ve been out hunting curses. It’s the faint linger of cursed energy and the distinct smell if death on you that he pickles up. He notices when there’s a tiny limp in your step. He notices when you’re tired and when you’re practically burned out; the way your eyes drop during the teacher's lecture; the way you scribble down your homework mere minutes before submission, or the way you stress about not being able to buy the course literature before the first assignment is due by poking at your lunch and not answering Nobara. So he leaves his books out before going to the bathroom, knowing Yuji and Nobara will push you to take pictures of the few pages you need.

Post-Canon! Megumi swears he is done with being a sorcerer and that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with curses. Yet when he sees you stumbling out of your dorm room, in your jujutsu get-up, barely able to keep your eyes open, he can’t help the pang of worry in his chest. He swears he is done being a sorcerer, even as his feet carry him to follow you.. 

[sunsetcupid]

YOUNG LOVE ; UNIVERSITY!AU.

synopsis: They say that high school are the best years of your life. . .But welcome to YUN, where three love interests are waiting in the wings for you. Freshman!Isack Hadjar, who is assigned as your partner for a physics project. Junior!Oscar Piastri, who is the lead manager of your new workplace. And Senior!Max Verstappen, who is your Dutch tutor.

trigger warnings: Use of Y/N; Use of feminine pronouns from the reader’s perspective; Depiction of a love triangle; Descriptions of romantic acts and behaviors; Suggestive remarks

a message from the author: When I tell you, this took me over a week to make. . . Think of this as a Gossip Girl!AU, but set at a University (Your University Name, or YUN for short). There are three love interests, plus some cameos from extra characters (Yes, Lando and Oscar are dating in this). At the end, you will choose which love interest you want. I am so curious to see who you all like the most! Enough of my yapping, I hope you love this just as much as I do. Have fun reading!

yourusername First year at YUN has officially started!

comments 150

user1 Very excited!

user2 Can’t believe we’re already in uni

user3 Time flies 🥹

user4 What are you majoring in again?

user5 Has anyone downloaded the YUN Gossip app?

user6 OMG yes! Heard it was where everything goes down…

yourbffusername Best roomie 😋

yourusername All set up!

yourbffusername replied to the Instagram story

So aesthetic 😍

user7 replied to the Instagram story

Love the layout!

user8 replied to the Instagram story

What dorm are you in? Your room looks awesome!

user9 replied to the Instagram story

Littt ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

user10 replied to the Instagram story

Miss you already!!

comments 3

isackhadjar Hello Y/N, it is nice to see someone who shares the same major. Programming has always been an interest of mine, though coding does give me a headache sometimes.

user11 Hi Y/N, I am also from England, but I’m native to Oxford. You’re so lucky to be born in London! I visited once and it was super interesting. Have you ever taken a tour inside Buckingham Palace?

user12 Hey Y/N, I’m a freshman as well! Are you nervous at all for the next four years? My sister just graduated last year as a Psychology major, but I’m majoring in Chemistry. I’ve heard some things about how tough college is, but I think we’ll both make it through!

|| [NEW EMAIL]

From: Professor Yates (emeyates@yun.org)

To: PHY3009

BCC: Physics Project (DUE 08/30)

Dear Class,

For those who missed today’s lecture, a new project has been assigned for this class. Partners were listed on the whiteboard, and a photo is attached to this email. If there are any concerns with these pairings I have selected, please let me know by 08/17.

Thank you all, and have a great day.

Sincerely.

Professor Emelia Yates

🖇️ phy3009partners.png

yourusername

comments 24

isackhadjar WHY THAT PHOTO?? I feel betrayed

user11 Summer I Turned Pretty mention! 💖

user12 HAHAHA 3rd slide

user13 Slayyy

yourbffusername <3

user14 LOL 😭 😭 😭

|| NEW NOTIF: YUN Gossip [08/19] — Looks like Christmas will be coming to YUN early, because Die Hard will be playing at the Wilson Theater on 08/22. Buy tickets now!

|| NEW NOTIF: YUN Gossip [08/22] — Leaked photos attached between Freshman Isack Hadjar and rumored girlfriend at YUN movie night!

|| [NEW EMAIL]

From: Oscar Piastri (oscpiastri@mayleaf.com)

To: Y/N L/N (ynln@yun.org)

BCC: Interview

Dear Y/N L/N,

Thank you for applying for a position at Mayleaf Books. We appreciate your interest at working at our bookstore. Combined with your previous experience, we would like to offer you a role as sales associate. The starting pay is $12 per hour.

Please respond to this email as soon as possible to ensure that you are accepting this position.

Regards,

Oscar Piastri (Lead Manager)

yourusername Everyone calls him polite cat, but I think he’s really a grumpy cat. Comparison post coming soon.

oscarpiastri replied to the Instagram story

Stop playing around and maybe I’d be nicer to you

user15 replied to the Instagram story

Seeing Oscar Piastri slander on my feed was NOT expected, but I’ll take it!

user16 replied to the Instagram story

I SEE IT 🫢

user17 replied to the Instagram story

Wait because you’re cooking...

yourbffusername replied to the Instagram story

He’s lowkey fineeee 🥵🥵🥵

yourusername God bless Nora Roberts

comments 19

user18 SEND ME BOOK RECS

user19 I love her books too, OMG! 🤯

user20 Cool book haul!

oscarpiastri Looks like those are interesting books. Let me know how they are once you have read them.

user21 Love this ��💓

|| NEW NOTIF: YUN Gossip [01/02] — Junior Oscar Piastri caught in a passionate makeout session with Junior Lando Norris and unknown girl inside Mayleaf Books!

|| [NEW EMAIL]

From: Fernando Alonso (feralonso@yun.org)

To: Y/N L/N (ynln@yun.org)

BCC: New Classes for the Spring Semester

Dear Students,

New classes will be added to the curriculum starting this spring. A full comprehensive list can be found in the attachment of this email. If there are any concerns, send them forward to jenbutton@yun.org.

Respectfully,

Fernando Alonso (Dean)

🖇️ springclasses.pdf

yourusername Another long day at the library. #I HATE DUTCH.

user22 replied to the Instagram story

Me right now with French 🤝

user23 replied to the Instagram story

Most valid crash out

yourbffusername replied to the Instagram story

Sighh 😥

maxverstappen replied to the Instagram story

Maybe if you listened to me, you would like it more. I’ll be there in ten minutes.

yourusername Guess I have to thank maxverstappen now 😔

user24 replied to the Instagram story

No, his ego will get too big and he will float away 😓

user25 replied to the Instagram story

AWESOME! 🎉

user26 replied to the Instagram story

Yes queen!! Academic weapon 🤓🤓

maxverstappen replied to your Instagram story

See? I knew you could do it. You are very smart when you want to be. Want to celebrate? I know just the spot.

|| NEW NOTIF: YUN Gossip [03/09] — Senior Max Verstappen seen leaving Keeley Bar with mystery woman. Unknown whether it is his girlfriend or not...

Credits: Dividers — @bernardsbendystraws; Graphics — Both Pinterest and self-made

[x--sinner--x]

Thinking about being your cute little girlfriend who’s normally book smart and passing all her uni courses until last semester she started to get a lil distracted by your cock and unfortunately her grades started to slip. So like any dumb cock hungry slut would do, she hid the fact she failed 2 classes from you but mistakenly forgot to sign out with her school logins on your computer. You eventually found out and of course you gave her a chance to confess truthfully but she’s already too deep in the lie to back down so she keeps going until you show her the proof. I feel like the most suitable punishment for a lying slut like your girlfriend would be of course to fuck her brain silly but also force her to memorize her lectures while simultaneously repeat them out loud as you slot your dick deep inside her dishonest pussy, drilling so hard in her tight hole to the point of almost breaking her and having her scream loudly for forgiveness but deep down she loves every second of it because she just can’t get enough of her daddy’s thick cock🤍

After reading this, I really wish you were my cute little girlfriend. I would love to take advantage of you after learning the fact that you have been lying to me about your grades.

I was so proud of you, telling everyone about how you are the top student in your class and I had this sense of pride as your boyfriend that I quite relished. We had been having a lot of celebratory sex as a way to motivate you. But somehow, you had become addicted to my cock, and I sensed a shift in your behaviour. It felt like you were hiding something from me, which you have never done before. I kept insisting you for answers, but you kept feeding me the same lie over and over until I got fed up.

I found my own answer and confronted you about it, but you still lied right to my face. So I did what any sadistic boyfriend would do to his cute lying girlfriend, and concocted the perfect punishment.

Of course the plan was to fuck your brains out, but that wouldn't be a great idea this due as you had failed your classes. So instead I took the path of torture, making you read out your lectures out loud and memorize it so many times that you were pushed to tears, all while I was pounding so deep into your pussy, and spanking your ass so hard that it had become red from all the hits I just gave you.

Oh and that's not all. I would tie you up and leaving you hanging in mid air, and then I would proceed to ask questions so I can test your knowledge. For every wrong answer you give me, I will use this huge stick I have and spank you anywhere on the body. You will also be blindfolded so that you can't possibly know where I am going to hit.

I'll even go as far to get you upside down, and shove my dick down your throat and suffocate you if you get any answers wrong. I'll slap your face hard, and I'll cum so far down your throat that you can't even taste it, even though you practically beg me for it.

I'll have you walk on all fours with ice cubes placed on your back and you would need to keep walking until all the ice cubes melt on your body. If you give me wrong answers, then I'll hit you and you will pray that the ice cubes don't fall, because that would incur even more brutal punishments.

This will continue until you always give me the right answers and you ace your lectures and reinstate your status in your class. But don't worry, once you achieve your goals, it will be all sunshine and rainbows and I'll treat you like a princess. But only if you don't let me down, or I'll drag you down into the depths of hell with me.

[killersfool]

hiiii i’ve a wee fluff imagine idea for bobby!! : )

bobby and the reader live together in a flat in dublin and the reader goes to trinity uni to study english literature (or smt else that has like a lot of reading and essay writing anol that craic) and she’s falling behind in a lot of her assignments and it’s all piling up and she’s just all overwhelmed and doesn’t know how to cope.

she ends up breaking down into sobs or shutting down at random points in the day due to stress and rob hasn’t got a clue what’s wrong and keeps noticing these random break downs throughout the week.

basically he comforts reader and helps to organise herself and just all fluffy cute comfort fic <333

If I could flip back time, bend the seconds and go back three years ago, I would do it right now.

Pile after pile of flashcards, annotated books with pastel post-it notes shooting out of the sides, folders of Irish poetry I can hardly understand, tattered photocopies of Hozier lyrics, every work of Shakespeare staring at me from my overcrowded booksheld — dusty, messy, probably even dank. Miss Carter has decided to set three more assignments onto my workload for the week. An essay on crime fiction (I haven't even read the first book on the reading list), my creative writing portfolio and then another essay analysing a piece poetry of my choice. Reading and highlighting Hozier's lyrics of 'I, Carrion (Icarian)' is the only thing keeping me going. Phoebe Bridgers blasts through my ears. It's quarter to 11. I need a break. An early night would be nice. Or TV. But do I really want to sit next to Robert whilst he watches his weird YouTube videos?

I kick my table. Not out of anger. Not out of irritation. I just want to see all of my notes topple ontp the floor. They do. Then I'm kicking the table three more times. Or maybe eight. All my flashcards are on the carpeted  floor, next to my discarded, empty packet of pinballs. I'd stolen them from Robert's stash. He'll never find out.

Climbing over my pile of unread books by my doorway, I push open the door. It squeaks. Some oiling would be nice. Trinity college really provides the best for their students! 

I still wish my roommate was also doing English, someone to bond with over shared trauma, to gossip about our nightmarish teachers and fellow students. But no, this guy is doing a degree in bloody mathematics. The complete dichotomy of English. No similarities. No way of comparing the courses to eachother. Him and his terrifying videos that he watches with his shoes up on the armrest, cheek in his open palm, drinking a cup of tea. Like it's that simple. Numbers and sin, cos, tan and circle theorems and whatever tragic nonsense is being spouted in his lectures.

He hardly speaks to me. Three years together and I barely know him. Sometimes I tag along with him when he goes out for breakfast. Once every two weeks. Sunday morning. We talk about school, about friends, about anything that pops in our heads. Yesterday we spoke about music. He originally wanted to pursue a career in music. A band. But they didn't work out. He took a gap year to pursue this group. So he's a year older than all of the other third years. He doesn't let that faze him. When he told me stories about his band, 'Inhaler', I had to lose eye contact, look down at the pink marshmellos floating about in my cup. He looked lost. This wasn't the place for him. He missed the confidence upon stage, the ability of making something out of nothing. Life is unfair. That is when I realised it. Hearing about shattered dreams and names of songs that were never produced.

I also realise life is unfair right now, as I accidentally bang my hip onto the kicthen island, the knife-like corner lodging itself into my skin. It's like the world is against me. 

Sometimes I wonder if Robert thinks I'm an idiot. I feel like I'm an idiot when I walk past his bedroom, hunched over his laptop, headphones on as he works through the most difficult maths questions I've ever encountered in my life. He makes university seem easy. Has his allocated times for study, going out with friends, the gym, practicing bass, going though record shops, meals, watching TV. Everytime he gets home, he drops his things down in the kitchen. I sneak a glance at the big green 'A*' on all of his test papers. I look up to him. His intelligence, his masterful management of time. I'm always too frightened to ask him how he does it. He'll think I'm stalking him. 

Me, on the other hand, I waste time. I don't have balance. I never have time to be with my friends. Always locked up in my room. A prisoner. Essay after essay. Poem after poem. Book after book. A constant cycle I've been in for three whole years. The stress is weighing down on me like a hundred bags of bricks. I need to stop for a second. To breathe in. To calm down.

So I do the last thing I would normally do. I go into the living room and sit beside Robert on the sofa. He's half asleep, jeans cuffed, hair all over his face. He sees me walk in, glances up, eyes big and speculting. He instantly moves his spindly, spider-like legs from the armrest to give me some space. I can hear some sort of maths video playing on the TV. I'm scared. At least it's not English. I'm immune to maths. It doesn't affect me anymore. Whatever logorhythmic scale this American YouTube man is yapping about isn't making my face contort at all — it's like sorcery.

This could be a way of winding down. Maths. I'm calmer now. No changes of focus or narrowing of perspective. No pathetic fallacy or magical realism. Just messes of words that don't really make sense at all.

"'D'you want to watch TV? I can turn this off if you want." Robert has his thumb on the home button.

"Leave it on. I just need a moment."

He dubiously puts the remote back down. He yawns, stretching out his arms and leaning back. I hate it when boys do that. With his parted, manspreaded legs, adams apple bobbing, head rolled back. It's idiotic. Completely idiotic. He doesn't seem too intrigued by Mr American man. The video is a guy next to a whiteboard writing millions of brain-numbing equtions. Robert is nodding along. I think I'm going to cry. I don't know why I want to right now. My hip is actually starting to throb and ache. I look down at my jeans. There's a hole in them. There's blood. It's wet. I hadn't noticed before. It's properly pouring out blood.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I exclaim, hand pressing down onto the cut through my jeans.

Robert swiftly nears me. He's looking at me up and down, hands trying to find a place to move to. It's dark in the room. He reaches for the lamp switch. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm bleeding. Jesus christ. That kills. Fuck me."

He passes me his jacket and says, "Apply some pressure." 

Then he runs out of the room. Fast as a plane. A man on a mission. Long curls dancing to the rhythm of his steps. Mr American man won't shut up about algebraic expressions. He's got a really bald head. Glimmering. 

Robert is back. He has bandages. I don't know where he got those from. Antiseptic wipes, plasters, sweets, even a cup of tea. He was only gone for about five seconds. How did he manage to get all of that? He hands me the cup of tea and sweets whilst asking, "What happened?"

"I walked into the island like an eejit. I'm so feckin' stupid."

"Just breathe, okay. You're not an eejit. I do that every day." 

I have to unzip my jeans to let him check the cut. Which is awkward, to say the least. He's looking at me like a doctor — not really caring about seeing my skin — but I'm still so shy around him. He sees me struggle with the button. He undoes it, fingers coming in contact with mine. They're slender. So very perfect for the bass guitar. Then he's unzipping my jeans. Only the tiniest bit. A mere centimetre of my knickers appear out of the top. Any more than that and I'd be flush as a tomato. I've always had a little crush on Robert. Being stuck with a really smart bass guitarist with the dreamiest eyes for three years is enough to make a person fall. The reason I've been avoiding him lately has been due to that fact. I don't want to make it obvious.

He finds the cut. It's bled through my knickers, making a big blot of dark red. He pulls down the waistband of my pants, prepared to wipe the wound. I have to grind my teeth together to prevent a sob from escaping me. I'm crying. Stressed and hurt and just wanting to dissolve into nothing. The cold draft of wind isn't improving the situation. If only there was no such thing as coursework and I couldn't glide my way through university like Robert. 

More and more blood. I think I might pass out. The blue-eyed boy is knelt down on the floor, knees biting into the carpet so that he can properly see where to put the bandage. 

"So how's English going?" He's not looking at me. Only at the wound. I don't think he's noticed that I'm crying. I don't want him to. I cover my face with bloody hands, accidentally smearing the metallic substance onto my nose. 

I don't know what to say. Do I tell him how much I regret picking it? Do I make this already awkward situation about ten times worse? I hate when people pity me. I hate when I feel like eyes are lingering for far too long when I cry. But when Robert looks at me, it's different. The pools of serenity circling his iris aren't looking down at me with a sort of aristocracy. That's how my English peers stare me down. No, instead, he's looking at me like there's a billion questions rushing across his forehead. He just needs to decide which one to ask. Or to simply say nothing. Like I am. We've both learnt how to cohabit in silence. To walk past eachother and ignore the feathers of conversation falling between us. We're busy. Always busy. Except for those perfect Monday mornings that I always look forward to. Especially the one time when he showed me around his favourite record store. He had asked me to choose him a record to buy. I walked through the entire shop, fingers shifting records, reading unfamiliar artist names. Then, I saw it, the — now bane of my existence — Hozier's 'unreal unearth'. He bought it. He'd told me he only really knew 'Take Me To Church'. I'd leant against the till as he paid and said, 'it'll change your life.' Then he'd locked himself in his room. Through the ever so thin walls — paper thin — I could hear each track hum into my room. I never got the chance to talk to him about the album. I think the thought of bringing it up made me feel sick — due to the English essay upstairs still waiting patiently to be finished.

Now there is an excuse. To talk. I'm injured. I don't want to move. He's still attempting to wrap a bandage over my stomach, then across my back until it's around my torso. I feel his fingers graze my skin with every subtle movement, along my spine, the small of my back, my abdomen, my hip bone. He's still looking at me. Searching. Like I'm a new island and he's an explorer trying to name me.

"What's up, sweetheart?" He finally talks again. His words are throaty, emananting from the pits of his throat. He's still wrapping, waiting for an answer.

"Just college. You know. It's killing me."

He shakes his head. "You're so smart."

"Says you."

He shakes his head. "Look, this might be a bit weird but sometimes when you leave random essays lying around or even creative writing. I read them. They're incredible. Your mind just works in such an interesting way."

I'm at a loss for words. He reads those? Those are usually just failed attempts that I toss aside. Scrap paper. Strange drawings. I don't even want to look at them.

"You get top grades in every test," I sigh. "I'm barely passing. I'm the worst in the class. My professors hate me, I've got so much work, I'm falling behind in every assignment—"

Then I'm properly crying. Sobbing. Breathing so heavily I think I might collapse. Heaving. Sniffling. Covering my face so he can't see me. I'm like a child. Pathetic. Stupid. Worthless. I was never good enough for Trinity. Why did they let me in?

Warm arms, press of skin. Just above the wound, over my chest, arms dig into my body, hugging me from behind. Head burrowing onto my shoulders, knees into the sofa. His lips ghost the back of my neck. Tears are falling down. He turns me around to face him. I hate how he's seeing me like this. My cries are usually saved for when he's out with friends or blasting music on his record player. He's never seen me this vulnerable, just utterly ripped into shreds by the hands of life. His scent is making me feel better, the tissue now on my cheek makes me feel better, the quiet words of 'breathe, let it all out, it's okay' make me feel better. He's calming me down. I start to forget what I was even crying about when I look into his eyes. This intense eye contact. Remembering his height. Even sat down, his torso is far longer than mine.

"I've got an idea," he murmurs, peeling his body away. I miss the warmth. I miss the touch. 

"What is it?"

"We should go somewhere. Get out for a bit. Say it's a 'mental health field trip'." He curls his fingers to accentuate the apostrophes."Maybe down to the Cliffs of Moher. When you're all healed up of course."

"Give me a week."

"A week? I'll be the judge of that." He raises an eyebrow, now tying up the bandage.

"Where did you learn all this?"

"I'm actually first aid trained. Did it in my first week of uni." He takes a deep breath, settles back onto the sofa. 

I take a sip of my tea. My eyes are surely blotchy and red. I bet there's mascara all over my face. "Thank you so much."

"No problem at all. Do you want to tell me what's going on? Is there any way I can help?" He's referring to my school work. "I was alright at English in high school. No where near as good as you are. But maybe another opinion might help you."

"I'm really stuck on a Hozier analysis."

"I never told you how much I love that album. It's perfect." His eyes glow like they do when he's talking about something he loves. Usually it's caused by talking about playing bass, but right now it's due to the beauty of Hozier's music. "I learned the bass line of De Selby part two."

"Show me. Now." I don't even ask. It's simply a demand. Anything to take my mind away from that cut still bleeding profusely. A little concert would be nice. Especially if said concert involves watching Robert play bass. I sometimes peek through the crack in the doorway to see him sat down on his bed, pick between his index and thumb, bass guitar on his lap, headphones over his ears. The pure concentration on his face is unparalleled. Notes thrum quietly through the room. He falls into any piece of music.

"Alright." He laughs at my enthusiasm. "Then I'll help with your English."

"Thanks." This is probably the most I've ever spoken to him. I'm mumbling each word, not wanting to look into his eyes.

He disappears once again. This time I hear the thudding footsteps over creaky floorboards. I hear a door squeak open, the faint patter of rain upon the ceiling, the quiet murmur of distant sirens as night blooms. It's tranquil. For a moment, I'm at peace. Until I remember the stack of unread books in my bedroom. I groan into my hands. Everything just keeps getting worse and worse and—

He's back. Not empty handed. Bass in one hand, Hozier lyrics and my pencil case in the other.

"I emailed your professor about the trip. I'm sure she'll be okay with it." He's off again. He comes through the door with his amp and lead. He plugs both in. 

"You're a life saver, Rob," I say.

He starts twisting around the knobs on the bass. Volume up. Then he's tuning. He smiles up at me. I think I'm staring. I think he can tell. His long fingers, tattoos, rings. It's all too much. My fingers are restlessly tapping the armrest. My legs are up on the coffee table. He pulls out his phone and plays the song. Then I'm lost in the music. His eyes are closed as he slides his fingers up and down the neck of the bass, as he stomps his feet down on the carpet to every drum beat. If only I could go back to the days I'd go to concerts every day. If only I could go back and see 'Inhaler' on a world tour, watch Robert from the crowd, completely in his element. Exhilarated, chanting, knowing every lyric like it's my mother tongue. Sometimes I wonder what life could've been like if the band had worked out. If the world did realise just how incredible they are. But, here, appreciating each pluck of every string, the grin as he watches me. I can't take that for granted. 

[butchdazai]

Books I finished reading in January and February 2025

You Will Get Through This Night by Daniel Howell

I have to be honest and say this is not the type of book I usually read and I only read it because it was written by Dan. However, I found that the book was well-written and easily understandable. It didn't read like pop psychology books that I hate so much and it was instead full of actually useful tips to improve your mental health. Additionally, it was funny and it makes the reader feel like they can trust Dan due to him also dealing with mental health problems throughout his life. My one criticism is that I would've liked to see a list of sources at the end. Overall a good book for those dealing with mental health issues.

La librairie de Téhéran de Marjan Kamali

J'ai lu ce livre pour le club de lecture de ma bibliothèque. C'est un roman écrit par une femme iranienne-étatsunienne. La librairie de Téhéran compte l'histoire de deux jeunes iraniens qui sont amoureux mais qui ne peuvent pas être ensemble à cause de la situation politique et de la famille du jeune homme. Ils ont dû se séparer mais ils se retrouvent quand ils sont plus vieux aux États-Unis. Ce livre m'a paru trop long et un peu ennuyant, même si j'ai appris un peu plus sur l'histoire iranienne.

Living a Jewish Life by Anita Diamant

I read this book for my Intro to Judaism 101 class. It's a good introduction to Jewish life and holidays as it's quite easy to read. This updated version is particularly good as it updates the language used within it to include non-binary and other queer people. It looks at Jewish life through a liberal Jewish lens, so it would not be ideal for those wanting to learn more about Orthodox Judaism, but it is a good resource for those interested in learning more about Conservative or Reform Judaism.

Les années de Annie Ernaux

Celui-ci est un autre livre que j'ai lu pour le club de lecture de ma bibliothèque. C'est un livre qui est difficile à lire pour ceux qui ne sont pas français et ceux qui n'ont pas le français comme langue native. Cependent, Les années est un livre très interessant car il est un mémoire écrit à la troisième personne. Le livre se concentre plus sur la societé que sur la vie de l'autrice. En plus, j'ai trouvé interessant de comparer la societé français dans le XXme siècle avec la societé mexicaine dans les mêmes années.

[ghostphys]

Update after a week of doing this:

So it’s finally update time! Thank you all for the support on my post about this, it really meant a lot!!

I’m going to list the pros and cons of my little experiment, then add a summary/TLDR at the end of the post. This is probably going to be quite a long post as it was definitely an interesting 5 days. P.S, if you have any questions please ask! I’m 100% willing to answer.

Pros:

• My time spent studying over doubled this week. This was the most obvious pro (and the one I was kind of hoping for the most) and I’m so proud of myself for how much I managed to get done. I studied for an average of 4hours/day, whereas before I was only doing 2.

• Studying felt so much more relaxing and productive at night. This probably contributed to the increase in studying; I found I enjoyed studying more, was able to pay attention for longer periods of time, and it started to feel less like a chore, and more like a hobby.

• I started to feel more present in the moment, especially on the bus travelling to/from uni. This wasn’t something I was really expecting, but I think also was partially a result of me deleting social media (which i can totally make another post on if that’s of interest). But where I used to sleep on the bus, or even just daydream, I started to read books, look over notes, and just feel a lot more present in general, which was a fresh of breath air honestly.

• I actually felt a lot less tired while at uni. I think this is most likely due to having been awake for a while before even travelling, so I had plenty of time to wake up. As someone who suffers from both physical and mental health issues, this was really important to me and i was so so much more focused during lectures and just generally wow it was amazing.

Cons:

• Although I found it easier to study, I dedicated a lot less time to keeping my room/study area tidy. I’m not sure exactly why this was, I think maybe just moving around to tidy up at 2/3am felt a bit wrong as I was scared to make too much noise? I think the way around this would be to just tidy right before sleeping at around 6pm, but this was probably my least favourite of the cons:(

• No time for social life outside of uni. Unless your friends are all also borderline nocturnal, then yeah if you are a person who loves going out etc then this is not the schedule for you. Fortunately for me my friends already know i sleep a lot, so most of our socialising happens in between lectures during uni time. (And by that I mean going to cafés and doing even more studying).

• It was kind of hard to figure out mealtimes? Eventually I settled on only having two meals a day, but just increasing portions sizes, and having more snacks in between. This is just what worked best for me, and this wasn’t a huge con tbh, just kind of confusing at first.

• It was so much easier to just hit snooze on my alarms. Because I didn’t have to worry about a bus to catch or anything forcing me to wake up, I found myself saying ‘just five more minutes’ way more times than I should have. I definitely slept in one day sadly. I think this is definitely preventable, I’m sure there are special alarm apps to help with this sort of thing, and i’ll probably be checking that out.

Summary/TLDR: This was such a fun experience for me, I’m really super proud of myself for trying this out and for improving my studying! All in all I definitely found this to be a positive experience, obviously that’s a personal thing so please don’t take my word to be truth! But just in my experience I really found it to help my mental aspect of studying as well as just physically doing more. Although my room got a bit messier, and I kind of just got disoriented about the time of day sometimes, I definitely think these are things that could have been fixed.

Disclaimer: I only tried this for a week which is definitely not enough time to fully change your sleep schedule, and I am obviously not a professional in this field or in research. This was just a fun little experiment and a chance for me to talk about my personal experience. I’m not encouraging this behaviour or saying it is healthy. (I am not informed about the effects on health this would have long term). Do not take some random person on tumblr’s experience as a holy grail of truth or something like that.

[theboredandkindaweirdhistorian]

Chapter 3: BAD CAN BE BEAUTIFUL

At least on the surface

(From Bringing Narnia Home by Devin Brown)

Q1: In this chapter we examined how evil may not appear as evil. Can you think of other evil characters from fairytales who did not appear evil and who disguise their true intetions?

Pinnochio by Italian authour Carlo Collodi is the second most translated children's book after The Little Prince. It was written as an educational and cautionary story for children, first published some 70 years before the first Narnia book. It was the story my dad put us to sleep with and its lectures have a lot in common with Narnia, especially when it comes to evil disguising itself as beautiful or benefitial. If you've never read the original, I highly suggest it. In my not so humble opinion I believe Pinnochio should be a book every respectable home library has - beside the Bible and a dictionary. And if you haven't read it yet and want to avoid the spoilers, please skip this answer to the next.

Pinnochio, a wooden puppet brought to life with the promise of becoming a real flesh-and-blood boy, if he'll deserve it, runs into a number of characters, who mostly promise him an easy shortcut to the pleasures in life, instead of a strenuous, but more rewarding way of hard work.

Mr. Cat and Mr. Fox are a pair of swindlers and thieves, who befriend Pinnochio, telling him they'll make him a partner on their business scheme - to actually grow money from a tree in a field of miracles. Not only do they deprive Pinnochio of all his money, they hang him up on a tree - an attempted murder! It was only then the poor Pinnochio realised he's been a fool. But not for the last time.

Later in the story Pinnochio and his schoolfriend learn of Pleasure Island, where all your dreams come true - no work, no schools, no chores, no grown-ups, just fun and games and sweets all day! To get there, every once in a while, in the dead of night, a strange carrige arrives, picking up all children who are sick of their parents and teachers and other adults restricting their free spirit with chores and church. They go the island, they have their fun, but ultimatley pay a gruesome price - and do not even realise before it's too late! Pinnochio suffers terribly because of it, and it ends with him being thrown in the sea to drown!

There were more cases, where due to disobediance and refusal to do things the right way, Pinnochio gets blindsided by the fascade evil hides behind, and always pays a terrible price, but do not worry. Ultimatley he learns his lessons and gets the reward he was promised.

Q2: In your own life, have you ever met someone who appeared friendly or caring on the surface, but later turned out to be the opposite? What were some of the details of that encounter? What were your feelings when you learned the truth?

I had this "friend". I met her on one of my errands back in uni, on the street, she and her friend were doing a survey for one of their papers from theology. She thought my answers were super cool, so she invited me to their Bible study. Throughout the study, I met more "friends" like her - literally like her. All pretty girls in their 20s, all showering me with compliments ("You're so beautiful and your heart is so beautiful!" "You are so smart, surley you'll accomplish everything") with smiles like Cheshire cats. The thing that bothered me though, was the Bible study itself. That the teacher of this principle was recieveing supposed lessons directly from Jesus in a cave somewhere and it only got more sus from there, that He didn't actually rose from the grave, it was all a spiritual thing and that Jesus, the guy who broke bread and laughed with his disciples wasn't the same Jesus, God of the universe come to save the world. Like the guy from Nazareth was, for lack of better word, posessed by God for the purpose of salvation. Sketchy stuff. The other thing that bugged me about it was that they never mentioned that teacher's name. They told me his life story as this miraculous tale of devotion, all while avoiding his name, only ever calling him teacher. When I asked her about his name, they would say: "not yet, later! Other people say such mean lies about him, it's best not to say". Cruising between trying to trust my friends and all the bothering statments they claimed were theological facts finally drove me to a deep-dive search where I got some very irrefutable evidence that the teacher they so carefully avoided the name of, was in fact a notorius cult leader, imprisoned for concrete-proven multiple SA (it's the JMS cult, there's a documentary on Netflix too). Next time, I confronted my "friend" about it. She was horrified as in "how can you believe such lies! Jesus was persecuted for lies too!" After that, we distanced, because I refused to go to the "Bible study". And I felt so relieved after that, like I've just avoided a grand disaster of some sort. I felt disappointed and betrayed by my friend - someone I trused and believed I can confide in, only to find she was trying to pry me away with secrecy - "don't tell that to anyone, especially not the youth group you go to. I feel like they are a bad influence on your spiritual journey!" I felt dismayed and disgusted how they tried to use that the most holy and wonderous truths, that God lived us so as to give His only Son for our salvation, as a mimic, an exuse for a deeply corrupt and evil man. And lastly I feel sorry for that "friend" and her other "friends" - I don't think they were evil themselves, I think they were so deep in that that they reject any truth outside the one they believe it to be.

Q3: How about your own actions -- have you ever tried to excuse something bad you did? Can you think of an occaion when it was hard for you to see your own flaws?

Oh, countless times! That same "friend" I mentioned above could say that about me, because truth be told, I did my absolute best to avoid her after that encounter - rainchecking meetings, not replying or reacting to messages, esentially ghosting her, untill she stopped messaging me altogether. I'm not the type of friend that would constantly send messages and inquireing about others' lives, I do remember things like their birthdays and do catch up on occasion or say hi if we were to pass on the street. I know that for most I could do better, and I hide behind vapid excuses like "no time as is; I'm an introvert; I'll do that some other time" and hers was not the first friendship that would end that way - us slowly growing apart because I would not make an effort to keep in touch. I know I can do better, it's just easier to not bother with it all. Though for her I kept telling myself that it was she who betrayed me first; who used my friendship with no regard to me and my feelings. I suppose the "I'll forgive her, I guess, because she did not know what she was doing," is still a poor enough excuse because it comes from a place of pettyness instead of actual forgivness. I must let that go, I know. It's always hard for me to see my own flaws because I do care too much for what others think of me and how I present myself. It's way easier to blame everything else but yourself to be at fault. But I do believe I can overcome that.

[foggieststars]

wait can i ask what your undergrad and masters were (sweats in about to move back to the uk to do a masters program) and what made them difficult

rambling about uni under the cut!!

i did history undergrad and comparative social policy for my masters! the thing that made my undergrad difficult is just that i went to cambridge for it and the workload is extremely demanding for undergraduates, much moreso than for masters students (i did my masters at oxford and i know for a fact i was doing much less work than undergrads were!!)

so for undergrad what made it difficult: we had a 2000-2500 word essay due every week which professors expected you to read a minimum of 10-15 sources (chapters in books/essays) for, depending on the professor! (this is in addition to hundreds of pages of assigned reading for different classes) and then once you submitted your essay you'd have to go and have a one-to-one hour long discussion with the professor about your essay and defend your argument to someone who was very often a leading expert in their field, and watch and listen and nod as they shredded your argument to pieces... every week... for three years.

side anecdote: once i spent an entire essay absolutely BLASTING this one author for his take on a certain subject. i think i literally called him a misogynist in my essay. and when i sat down to discuss it with my professor she looked me dead in the eyes and said 'so i see you didn't enjoy my husband's book?' i am dying just thinking about it

so yeah undergrad was very tough and it's designed to be that way - oxbridge has an extremely 'sink or swim' attitude to education when it comes to their undergrads and they're very much of the opinion that if you can't cope with the workload, oxbridge isn't for you and you should leave and go somewhere else. i know several people who did! like they literally tell you that they make the kitchens cramped and uncomfortable to use in order to force students to buy dinner from their colleges and have more time for studying. lol

as for my masters, i found it MUCH easier to balance work and life! i didn't find the subject matter that much more challenging than my undergrad and in general i found that there was a much less demanding workload. probably because the course is only a year and is basically oriented around you writing your thesis! so i only had 2 essays to submit the whole year, and then weekly reading for seminars and lectures.

but i also found that i had to do less weekly reading than i was doing in my undergrad, because they expect you to be doing more in your free time to focus on your thesis and the classes are more of a framework for that. this is also HIGHLY dependent on where you go for your masters - oxford is still a pretty heavy workload for a uk masters. lots of my friends who did masters degrees elsewhere had a comparatively very chill time and a lesser courseload than i did, and i didn't even feel overworked! it always felt very manageable and a lot more adult

sorry i rambled a LOT but either way. i think you'll have an amazing time during your masters and please feel free to ask me any questions about masters in the uk etc, i'll try my best to answer them if i can!! <33

[martiemagic]

Back to school - tips & essentials for getting organised

I’ve studied a lot. I have a bachelors degree in law and started my bachelor’s in Nordic language and linguistics last year. Now the school is back and I am here to help you get settled, because starting up can be … a lot and it’s easy to get overwhelmed.

Essentials

- apps w/ notification for your to do list (update this every week and plan your next week on Sundays) This is especially important if you’re an ADHD girlie like me~

- Synced calendar with your uni: this way you know when and where you have a lecture.

- Pens, sticky notes, folders, papers, highlights and so on.

When you’ve acquired everything you need, here’s what you’ll do to stay in touch with everything:

Tips

- If you’re studying literature or you have to read a lot, I recommend putting post its on all your books (or papers) with your due date and stack them in a to be read pile like this:

That way you always know what to read for when you’d need it: this has helped me a lot!💃🏼

Remember to keep up with you email and your student website as well through notifications! I hope my tips and tricks for getting you organised has helped you and if you have any questions starting up studying and / or generally about studying, feel free to message my inbox!🫶🏻

Lots of good luck!🫶🏻

[lady-nienna-the-magi]

21.5.2025 - plans for summer-autumn

THE SCHEMES OF THE MAGI

Apparently i field promoted myself to be the ultimate head editor of this (mini) tolkien fanzine, print edition. One month ago i got myself field promoted from "general assistant" to "project manager" and now to "project manager AND head editor".. which means the other head editor, let's call them A, has not done anything contributive. Like has not been in zoom meetings, has not said a word, has been late, has not done literally anything... is now kind-of fired. It was a harsh call but it wasn't okay for the other head editor, let's call them B, since B has done all the head editor work by themselves.

So now i overtook A's place and also am sending "pls note that this and this is due then and then" to B, they're doing good work but need some reminding.

This means that i will be insanely busy this summer and autumn but well oh well the hustle is surely ongoing. Long term plans / next months.. or THE HUSTLE OF SUMMER-AUTUMN 2025

writing draft of introduction to phd thesis/continuing research plan until i have introduction

reading references for phd

working as an extra on clothing store, any hours i can get pls pls i need the money

the zine-chaos (i'll go buy a damn bottle of chianti when i get that mofo back from print.. in november)

planning my course for autumn, the "dark academia book club"

try getting an office / odd hours (or lectures) from uni

start french/latin courses OR revise korean

apply for scholarships when possible

try getting promoted at Norwegian Festival in august (i'll be there for the third year volunteering so i think it's about damn time)

There will be a plumbing renovation in this block and i gotta move out for a week but i'll manage i must (i'm more scared bc of the work thing -> i can't work if i'm not in the city)

keep your eyes open. The possiblities are near endless. You just gotta find it, catch it. You got this <3

Remember that "Chaos Provides". Trust it.

P.S.

I know what this all will do to my caffeine addiction. I'll turn into a Janeway impersonator. Dear gods.

[ishouldreallybeelsewhere]

I feel like university it draining the life out of me

At least jobs don't have homework

Though of the two jobs I've had one was so exhausting I nearly fell asleep in an art gallery after an 8 hour shift, and the other one was literally fine but only had 3 hour shifts and sometimes didn't pay me

But uni every day, with homework and readings and honestly a lot of walking which I think would be fine if I had adhd meds or if I enjoyed my degree or if I didn't have 4 assignments due this week, one of which is about my personal identity and I genuinely barely feel like a person let alone someone with an identity so I've not started it yet

If I drop one of my degrees I'll have to pick up something else, like a double major, though I can tell it's just because my parents don't like that I'm getting a 'useless' degree (a BA in classics when I don't want to be a teacher and a bachelor in design when i don't want to be a designer)

I mean the work is easy but it never fucking ends

And I like lectures and essays and all that stuff, but I did one of my assignments today and it left me so exhausted that all I did afterwards was watch tv

Honestly I am just very tired and while I am extremely grateful to have moved out, I wish I had been allowed to take a gap year so I could finish my goddamn book

[dogstarblues]

accomplishments 3/14/24

rested

relaxed

emailed my advisor about extending a personal due date within the framework of a larger due date

rescheduled an appointment

read another short story in Black from the Future published by BLF Press

read 3 more sections of Duppy Conqueror: New and Selected Poems

made breakfast

ordered lunch that had sugar in it (mental energy conservation)

maintained my systems

checked on my request status at my uni library

changed some talking points for my lecture

walked my dog

hung out with a friend

had an appointment

sunbathed

hydrated

did some divination

cleaned the fridge

made my dog's food

showered

did skincare

brushed my teeth

did dishes

goals for tomorrow

do some work

read more of books

meal plan

go to grocery store

have that meeting

do yoga

[yourlocalghostwriter]

College was just a fever dream.

I remember my mother calling me early in the morning because the government just announced that cities will be on lockdown due to COVID-19. I just got home from a night of partying that time. I was 19 years old. I was in a different city. It was also my first year in college.

When I ended the call, I can still recall how I hurriedly stuffed my bags with everything that I could, not minding if clothes were folded or if everything was just a crumple of mess inside. I need to hurry before the buses are filled, I thought just as well as the other people in my dorm.

Before I left the familiarity of my dorm room walls, I remember receiving an announcement—a university memo—stating that classes will also be cancelled for two weeks due to city lockdowns. "Two weeks", it read. So I decided to leave a few of my things—my bedsheets and mattress, dirty laundry, and a few books—thinking I'll just be back after a couple of weeks. It sat in my dorm locker for two years.

The world seemed to stop spinning within those two years. My life was also held on pause. I spent my second and third year of college in front of a screen, not seeing the faces of the people I thought I would spend my highs and lows with in what was meant to be the most exciting time of my life, and most of the time I found myself dozing off on lectures just as much as the world had dozed off on everybody else.

When the government had given the go signal for a few universities to finally hold face-to-face classes, my university was one of them. I was ecstatic. I would finally get to see my friends again. There's still time for us to catch up to the two years we lost. Little did I know back then that what was lost will remain lost forever.

My last year in college was filled with the business of my feet moving from one place to another just to finish my thesis paper on time. It was filled with the voices of my supervisors telling me what and not to do because I was their intern. It was filled with phonecalls towards home, asking my mom for an additional allowance, because I barely had enough money for meals because my thesis and all the other things that came as a graduating student was a financial burden. It felt like I was scraping off time from the little spaces left on my academic itinerary. I barely got to hang out with the blockmates I-so-wanted to be my college buddies.

I'm 23 years old at present, turning 24 next month. I just graduated college last year in June. I'm still studying but it's for a licensure exam now, not for midterms nor finals. Until now, I still don't feel like an adult who just graduated from uni life. I still feel like that 19 year old girl who just left her hometown to study in a far off place, looking at the world like it held big adventures in its path. I feel robbed of that liberty. I feel like what was supposed to be mine—the experiences, the joy and sorrow, the highs and lows—were all stolen from me in a heartbeat and were never brought back.

College felt like it didn't happen despite all the certificates, the pictures, and the diploma proving that it did.

[isnotwhatyourethinking]

Ohhhhh this was too good, I couldn't help myself >.<

Mi Historia Entre Tus Dedos

AU Athlete!Cassian x Fem!Art History Reader

a/n: not proof read, not sure if the quote at the end is historically accurate, and English isn’t my first language. If you see any typos, you didn't 😌

Cassian’s chest ached. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected you. Yet here you were, sitting across from him in the quiet corner of the library, flipping through a heavy art history book with the utmost focus. The soft glow of the lamp cast a halo around your head, and for a moment, Cassian couldn’t breathe. How did this happen? How had he ended up falling for someone who had once looked at him like he was little more than a brute?

His thoughts drifted to that first meeting, back when the professor had paired you together for the Art Nouveau project, while he mindlessly flipped through his Alphonse Mucha book.

He had sat at the back of the lecture hall, his large frame crammed into the small seat as he lazily twirled a pen between his fingers. History was a subject that ignited something within him, a passion that few knew about. To everyone else, he was the university’s rugby star, the brute with a penchant for tackles and scrums. They all assumed that his scholarship was a reward for his athletic prowess, but in reality, it was his brain that had earned him a place here. His love for history, spanning across three different eras, had driven him to maintain the grades necessary to secure a scholarship that had nothing to do with rugby.

But that was something he kept to himself. The only people who knew were Rhys and Azriel, his best friends, and once rivals. They had all met through rugby, their competitive spirits clashing on the field in high school. Rhys, the rich boy who always threw the best parties, had a knack for getting under Cassian’s skin with his effortless charm and privilege. Azriel, on the other hand, was a mystery, always competitive in the field, though reserved in his own way, spending hours buried in the shadows of the library, studying something Cassian could never quite figure out. Over time, their rivalry had blossomed into a deep friendship, one that had seen them through the highs and lows of university life.

That day, Cassian was restless. The university had merged his advanced history class with an art history course due to low enrollment numbers. Art history wasn’t something that had ever piqued his interest, but he needed the credits, and the prospect of working with new people wasn’t entirely unappealing.

As the lecture hall filled, Cassian’s gaze drifted toward the front where the professor was setting up, and then he saw her. You. You walked in with an air of quiet confidence, your gaze fixed ahead, ignoring the whispers that seemed to follow you wherever you went. He’d heard about you, of course, everyone had. You were the girl who came from old money, the one whose life had taken a nosedive after your father’s bitcoin scandalous fall from grace. The same girl who, despite everything, managed to carry herself with a poise that was enviable.

He also knew that you weren’t particularly fond of him. The looks you shot his way whenever you crossed paths on campus made that abundantly clear. To you, Cassian was just another bruiser, a brawler with little substance. He’d seen the way your nose wrinkled slightly at the sight of his latest black eye, a souvenir from last week’s match. And he’d heard about your on-again, off-again rich boyfriend who attended Autumn Uni. He didn’t like Eris Vanserra, not that it mattered, Cassian wasn’t exactly in your orbit.

Except now, he was.

Professor Enalius began pairing students for the semester-long project, and Cassian felt a sinking lead ball in his stomach when he heard his name called out alongside yours. You stiffened slightly, glancing back at him with an expression that wasn’t hard to read—displeasure, annoyance, maybe even a hint of dread. Cassian suppressed a sigh, knowing this was going to be a long semester.

You both sat in silence at first, the awkwardness palpable as the rest of the class buzzed with chatter. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice as cool and detached as your expression.

“Well, it looks like we’re stuck together,” you said, not bothering to hide your lack of enthusiasm.

Cassian shrugged, leaning back in his chair, his tone arms crossed behind his head.

“Fine by me. Let’s meet at the library after your shift tonight, Az will be there. We can go over the basics of the project.”

You hesitated, mostly surprised that he even knew about your job at the museum. Azriel had mentioned it in passing, and Cassian had pieced together that you were friends, though it still baffled him how Azriel, of all people, had gotten so close to you.

“Alright,” you finally agreed, though you still looked as though you’d rather be anywhere else. “See you then.”

The rest of the academic day passed in a blur, and Cassian found himself walking toward the library with a sense of resignation. He didn’t have anything against you personally, but your assumptions about him, and the way you dismissed him as nothing more than a brute, rubbed him the wrong way. He wasn’t looking forward to spending the next few months working with someone who clearly thought so little of him.

The library was quiet when he arrived, the usual bustle of students dwindling as the evening wore on. He spotted Azriel in the far left corner, hunched over his laptop with an intensity that made Cassian wonder which coding was now giving him a hard time. Azriel looked up as he approached, giving him a nod.

“Ready for your night shift?” Cassian asked, dropping into the chair across from him.

Azriel smirked slightly. “As ready as I’ll ever be. What about you? Looking forward to working with her?”

Cassian grimaced. “Not particularly. She thinks I’m some kind of thug.”

Azriel’s expression softened, a rare occurrence for the brooding figure. “Give her a chance. She’s been through a lot. She’s not as bad as she seems.”

Before Cassian could respond, the door to the library opened with a creak, and you walked in, your gaze immediately finding him. You still looked as composed as ever, though there was a weariness in your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Starting the party without me?” you asked, the question directed to Azriel but keeping your voice low as you approached the table.

Cassian noticed your attempt to ignore him, and mirrored your disdain with a shrug, hiding the sting behind his usual bravado, though he gestured for you to sit, attempting a friendly start. “Just prepping for the night.”

The next hour was spent in strained conversation, though you both managed to stay civil. As the minutes ticked by, Cassian found himself getting more frustrated with the walls you kept up, the distance you insisted on maintaining between the two of you. It wasn’t until you both started discussing the political impact of the Arts and Crafts movement that the energy slightly shifted.

You were passionate about art history, that much was clear. As you talked about Emile Galle, Muller Freres and Delphin Massier, your eyes lit up with a spark that caught Cassian off guard. He hadn’t seen you like this before, so animated, so… alive. It was a stark contrast to the icy demeanor you usually presented.

“That’s why I think this period is so fascinating,” you concluded, your gaze dropping back to your notes, as if you were suddenly aware that you’d let your guard down. “There’s so much depth to French Art, so much history embedded in each piece.”

Cassian found himself nodding, his earlier frustrations forgotten. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’ve managed to change my perspective on art history. It’s… different from what I’m used to, but it’s interesting.”

You looked up, surprised. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” he said, actually meaning it. “I’m more into military history, battles, and strategy, but there’s a lot of overlap with what you’re talking about. Art from that time often reflects what was happening in the world, right? Politics, war, society.”

You stared at him, as if you just noticed him, even completely forgetting for a moment Az was there. Who would’ve thought the brusque athlete who you had dismissed as nothing more than a jacked up pain in the ass was gone, replaced by someone with a genuine interest in what you were saying? It was disarming, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way,” you admitted, your voice softer than before.

Cassian gave you a generous grin, one that you found yourself returning despite yourself.

“Alright, let’s split the main topics, that way we can cover more ground together.”

In a blink, the rest of the night had passed more easily, the conversation flowing better than before. By the time you both packed up to leave, there was a tentative truce between you, palpable as you walked out into the now deserted parking lot, when you found yourself glancing at him, your rushed judgments beginning to shift.

“See you tomorrow,” Cassian said as he waved goodnight to Azriel, who was heading off to his shift.

You nodded, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Yeah… see you.”

Cassian watched as you walked away, a small smile playing on his lips. Maybe this project wouldn’t be so bad after all.

♦♦♦♦♦♦

As the days turned into weeks, your interactions with Cassian became more frequent and less tense. You learned that he wasn’t the person you had initially thought. Yes, he was tough and took his rugby seriously, but he also had a sharp mind, especially when it came to his war lectures. He had a surprising depth of knowledge, and you found yourself drawn into conversations with him that ranged from the intricacies of ancient military strategies to the symbolism in Renaissance art.

Cassian, in turn, discovered that there was more to you than the cold exterior you presented to the world. You were kind, intelligent, and passionate about your studies, despite the hardships you had endured. Your friendship with Azriel made more sense now—he was the only one who had seen through your walls, just as he had seen through Cassian’s.

One evening, as you were both leaving the library to grab some coffee after another late-night study session, you had mindlessly shared a bit about your past, something you rarely did.

“It wasn’t easy, you know,” you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the path ahead, tree leaves softly murmuring as the fall wind blew. “Growing up, surrounded by whom you thought were your friends, and then losing them after having it all taken away. People look at me and think I’m still that spoiled rich girl, but I’m not. Not anymore, at least.”

Cassian listened, his usual teasing tone absent as he replied, “I get it. People think they know me too. They see the scrumhalf, the rowdy guy, and they make their assumptions. But that’s not all there is.”

You stopped walking, turning to look him in the eyes, to see the caring man beneath the tough exterior, acknowledging the words that mirrored your own struggles.

“I uh, was wrong about you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you shyly looked down at your neatly tied Adidas. “I’m sorry, Cass.”

He smiled, a genuine one that reached his hazel eyes. “And I was wrong about you. Shocking, huh?” he winked at you, “we’re not so different after all.”

From that moment on, your relationship with Cassian changed. The ice between you had begun to melt, slowly at first, in the dim light of late-night study sessions that often ended in Clotho, the librarian, threatening to kick you out for laughing too loud; and a true friendship formed. You found yourself looking forward to your study sessions, the banter between you becoming more and more playful, as you also started talking, really talking. Not just about the project, but about life, your passions and fears. Each conversation chipped away at the boundaries between you until Cassian found himself craving your company, the sound of your voice, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something you loved.

To you, he was no longer just the popular star with the bruises and black eyes—he was someone you could trust, a friend who understood what it was like to be judged unfairly.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

In a blink, the semester drew to a close. You knew weren’t ready to give up the little innocent excuses you’d both been making to spend more time together: grabbing coffee after long study sessions, meeting at the museum for in-depth analyses of Art Nouveau, and even hanging out before his games, which often led to you staying to support him, cheering from the sidelines.

As you sat together in the library, finishing the last of your project, you glanced at Cassian, who was focused on his notes. There was a comfortable silence between you that felt just right, like you belonged. Not to the high society world you had left behind, but to this one—where you were valued for who you were, not for what you had.

Cassian looked up, catching your eye, and he smiled back.

You felt it then, something had shifted.

And then there were the touches—oh, those fleeting touches. The brush of your hand against his when you passed him a book, the accidental bump of your shoulder against his as you walked side by side. Every graze set his skin on fire, leaving you both aching for more, but too afraid to reach out and take it.

It was driving him mad.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting session on campus, Cassian found himself walking you to your car. The night air was crisp, and your breath puffed out in little clouds as you talked about some new exhibition at the museum.

“I could get us tickets,” you offered, glancing up at him with a shy smile. “If you’re interested in seeing it.”

Cassian’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The two of you fell into your usual comfortable silence, the only sound the crunch of gravel beneath your feet and the car keys dangling from your fingers. Cassian’s mind raced, trying to think of something to say, something that would keep you by his side just a little longer.

“I still think it’s funny,” you said after a while, breaking the silence. “When we first started working together, I never would have thought we’d actually get along.”

Cassian chuckled, though his voice was tinged with something softer, it still gave you butterflies. “Yeah, you weren’t exactly thrilled to be stuck with me.”

You mocked an exaggerated shock, putting one hand on your chest, your shoulders hunching slightly as you playfully bumped his arm.

“Listen, smartass, I already apologized! I just… I sometimes regret being too harsh with you before I got to know you.”

The sincerity in your voice made Cassian’s heart clench. He wanted to tell you that it was okay, that he didn’t blame you. But the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering just inches from yours. He wanted to take your hand, to feel your warmth, but he hesitated, unsure if you’d pull away.

You looked down at his hand, your breath catching in your throat. For a moment, you just stood there, the world narrowing down to that small space between your fingers and his. Then, slowly, you closed the gap, your fingers brushing against his. The touch was so light, so tentative, that it sent a jolt of electricity through Cassian’s entire body.

He laced his fingers through yours, his grip firm but gentle, and the world seemed to stop. He looked down at you, your eyes wide, and saw the same longing reflected back at him.

“Cassian,” you whispered, your voice trembling with something he couldn’t quite name.

“Yeah?” His voice was rough, almost ragged.

“I… I like spending time with you,” you admitted, your eyes searching his. Cassian watched as you bit your lip, a nervous habit he had come to recognize, and he had to resist the urge to lean down and kiss you. Instead, he squeezed your hand, trying to convey all the things he couldn’t say out loud.

“I like it too, smartass.”

You stood there for another moment, hands still intertwined in the chill of the night, until you finally pulled away, breaking the spell. Cassian immediately missed the warmth of your touch, that connection that seemed to tie you together so effortlessly.

“Goodnight, Cass,” you said, your voice a little stronger now, though still tinged with something vulnerable.

“Goodnight,” he replied, watching as you got into your car and drove away. The ache in his chest intensified, knowing that he’d spend the rest of the night replaying this moment in his mind, wishing he’d had the courage to do more.

♦♦♦♦♦♦

The following weeks were torture. Each time Cassian saw you, his heart stumped painfully in his chest. He couldn’t stop thinking about you—your smile, your laugh, the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. And every time he caught you staring, he could see the conflict in your eyes, the same struggle that he felt.

The feeling became almost unbearable, but neither of you seemed willing to take that final step. You’d linger in each other’s presence, always just close enough to touch, but never quite closing the distance. It was a dance, one that left Cassian breathless and aching, but also terrified. What if he was reading it wrong? What if you didn’t feel the same way?

But then, there were the moments that made him hope. Like the time you had absentmindedly reached out to brush a lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering just a little too long. Or the time you had laughed at his endless teasing towards Azriel, the sound so pure and genuine that it had sent warmth flooding through him.

The project presentation eve came, and before you could stop them, betraying words came out of your mouth like water breaking down a dam.

“I don’t want this to end,” you said suddenly, your voice cutting through the silence.

Cassian stopped, turning to look at you. “What?”

“This,” you said, gesturing between the two of you. “Us. I know the project’s almost done, and I’m just… I don’t want it to end.”

Cassian’s heart pounded in his chest. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “It doesn’t have to.”

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with something he had been too afraid to hope for.

“Cassian, I—” You hesitated, biting your lip again, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Just say it,” he urged, his voice low and desperate. “Please, just say it.”

“I’m falling for you,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And it scares me, because I don’t want to lose our friendship. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Y/N…” Cassian’s breath caught in his throat. The relief that flooded through him was so intense that he thought he might collapse under the weight of it. “You don’t know how long I’ve hoped to hear those words coming from you.

He reached out, cupping your face in his hands, and you stared at each other as the world narrowed down to just the two of you. Then, slowly, he leaned in, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that was as soft as it was desperate. It was everything he had dreamed of and more, the taste of you, the feel of you against him. It was a release, a culmination of all the longing that had been building up between you for weeks.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead resting against his, both of you breathless, the tension between you had melted away, replaced by something warmer, an almost tangible sensation.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it,” you whispered, your hands still clutching his shirt.

Cassian shook his head, dismissing your apology, a small smile playing on his lips. “Worth the wait.”

You laughed, the sound filling the quiet night air, and Cassian’s heart swelled with a warmth he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling.

From that night on, the two of you spent every moment you could together, and each time you had to part, it was with a promise of when you’d see each other again. One night, as you lay in his arms, your fingers tracing patterns on his tattooed chest, you looked up at him with that same vulnerability that had always tugged at his heart.

“Do you ever think about how different things would have been if we hadn’t been paired together?”

Cassian tightened his hold on you, one hand softly brushing your hair, “I don’t know, but I know this for certain,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “when I’m away from you, the world is a desert in which I am all alone, without even the solace of expressing my feelings.”

You chuckled at the reply, suddenly getting up to look him in the hazel eyes that always made your chest flutter.

“Did you just quote Napoleon?”

He grinned as he pinched your nose, making you giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Can’t blame the guy, he knows a thing or two.”

♦♦♦♦♦♦

thank u @yiiyiiwrites for the wonderful idea, I hope you like it too 🥺

Modern day university AU | History buff/athlete Cassian x art history reader

[Acotar masterlist]

Cassian, beloved athlete and star player for the university rugby team. Everyone assumed he’d gotten a scholarship for sport, but he’d been in the small percentage of high grade earners. History lover, taking multiple classes in three different era’s.

Met Rhys and Azriel through playing rugby, even had some competitive rivalry during their school years for their different school teams. Rhys is the rich boy that throws parties, Azriel the mysterious brooding guy that keeps to himself, can find him studying in the shadows of the library.

When Cassian’s class gets merged with your art history class, he meets you.

You’re studying Art and art history. Come from old money, but you’ve been shunned from high society after your father’s fraud crime.

You have a part time job at the local museum, Cassian works a night shift doing security (Azriel got him the job).

You’re friends with Azriel (studying tech and cyber security) who also works security and he walks you to your car each night.

Grew up with Rhys (studying business) but haven’t seen him since you were a kid and have been dodging him at uni.

Share a small apartment near uni with Feyre, both in the same classes.

You think Cassian’s a brute, the bruises on his body and the black eye from his rugby games don’t make him appealing to you.

He thinks you’re an uptight rich girl that looks down on him. Doesn’t like your posh on and off again boyfriend who goes to the rival university.

It’s not till you’re paired up with him and have to research for your merged history class do you start to get to know him.

I had this in my head and needed to write a bit of it 😌 I went to uni in the uk so drawing inspiration from that.

[ihrtnjm]

a library date with jisung

synopsis: you and jisung have a date with the books. pairing: park jisung (nct) x fem!reader genre: fluff, uni!au wc: 213 a/n: hallo again :3 as i post this it's the day before spring break and i'm gonna see dream in less than a week (!!!!) if you like what you're reading, please reblog to support more of my work! thank u for reading :D

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okay but... imagine going on library dates with jisung. after your last class, he would wait outside your classroom and give his hand to you as you walk to the campus library. you two talk about each other's day as you head there.

"how was your day?" he asks.

"...meh, it was okay. just the same old lectures today. although, i did get my midterm back! a minus, baby!!" you cheer.

"woah, that's awesome!"

"yep, and i barely studied!"

by the time you arrive and begin studying, you can't help but focus on jisung. even though you try and get work done, you're still distracted by him. brows furrowed and lips pursed, he tries to work on an essay that's due next week.

"can you look this over for me?"

knocking you out of your jisung-induced daze, you reply, "of course."

flushed, you take his computer and read through the paper. once you finish adding notes and tips, you hand it back to him. throughout the afternoon, you work on your upcoming assignments. while you try to focus on your work, you glance at him as he works diligently. you can't believe that he's yours. he notices you staring at him, and smiles at you. you smile back at him. he's all yours.