#Class 12 Maths Lecture

[ashishkumarletslearn]

Class 12 Maths Exercise 1.1 | Relations and Functions - MathYug

Delve into the realm of Relations and Functions in Class 12 Maths with MathYug's expert teacher Ashish Kumar, fondly known as Agam Sir. In this comprehensive video lecture, we unravel the complexities of NCERT Exercise 1.1, exploring empty relations, universal relations, and more.

Timestamps:

00:00:05 Introduction and How Ashish Sir is going to teach you Class 12 Maths on MathYug

00:06:37 Empty Relations and Universal Relations (Trivial Relations) Lecture 1 (NCERT Exercise 1.1, NCERT Exemplar, Board’s Question Bank)

00:12:27 Question 1 Let R be the relation in the set N given by R = {(a, b) : a = b – 2, b ≥ 6}. Choose the correct answer. A. (2, 4) ∈ R B. (3, 8) ∈ R C. (6, 8) ∈ R D. (8, 7) ∈ R (N)

00:15:17 Question 2 Let A= {1, 2, 3,} and define R = {(a, b): a – b = 12}. Show that R is an empty relation on Set A. (B)

00:17:47 Question 3 Let A be the set of all students of a boy’s school. Show that the relation R in A given by R = {(a, b) : a is the sister of b} is the empty relation and R′ = {(a, b) : the difference between the heights of a and b is less than 3 meters} is the universal relation. (N)

00:28:17 Question 4 If A is the set of students of a school then write, which of the following relations are Universal, Empty, or neither of the two. R1 = {(a, b) : a, b are ages of students and |a – b| > 0} R2 = {(a, b) : a, b are weights of students, and |a – b| > 0} R3 = {(a, b) : a, b are students studying in the same class} (B)

00:40:47 Question 5 Let A = {1, 2, 3,} and define R = {(a, b): a + b < 0}. Show that R is a universal relation on set A. (B)

Join us as we embark on a journey to master Class 12 Maths, guided by Agam Sir's expertise.

[fligniuz]

sex for homework

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ you ask your cute tutor to help you study for your math final.

word count: 5.5k • part of my study buddies series (read here!) • nsfw • read on ao3

warnings : f! reader; EXPLICIT; dumbification if U squint; praise; oral (m! receiving); pre calc lol

notes : crossposting my shit to tumblr and starting with arguably one of my greatest uses of free will in history. title frommm:

You have a bit of a dilemma.

Well, it would be more accurate to say that you had a dilemma, have had one for quite a while now—your current grievances are merely extensions of a constant, one raging, blood-thirsty, borderline psychopathic problem of a class. MTH121, Concepts & Applications, is the only remaining mathematics credit required for your degree, and, coincidentally, absolutely no one told you that that’s really just a fancy name for pre-calculus. Because the universe hates you.

Your final is tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. If that wasn’t bad enough, your brain has utterly fucked you; months spent poring over formulas and right triangles amounts to nothing in the moment, every relevant fragment of knowledge completely foreign to your burnt out, sleep deprived, caffeine ridden psyche. So here you sit, “studying”, armed with just your textbook and Khan Academy tutorials.

Is it too late to switch majors? Yes, you decide, massaging your temples as you take another glance at your notes. A mass of numbers, variables, and scribbled matrices clogs the pages, complete with your near ineligible annotations, details added in the heat of a lecture. You never knew there could be so many different types of numbers. Solve for x. 5 + 2x to the 2nd power = 8x. Factor x3 - 3x to the 2nd power - 4x + 12. Find the vertex of the function f(x) = x to the 2nd power + 4x + 3. Determine the value of x if the sum of the following sequence converges to 5. How any of this is relevant to your future non-mathematics degree is beyond you.

What the hell is a vertex again? And what does it matter? You’d rather be sleeping, or drunk. Whatever.

You have one saving grace. Since your freshman year you’ve been employing a little cheat-sheet, your one-way ticket to having math explained to you in a language understood by plebeians like yourself: one Luigi Mangione, a friend of a friend of a friend, possibly the smartest guy you know (and you’re far from the only person to voice that opinion). Your self-appointed tutor—and unfortunately for you, probably the most appetizing of any of the frat guys you’ve met in college, to put it chastely. The actual knowledge is just a bonus, really, because unlike other tutors you’ve worked with Luigi seems to actually care; he wants you to walk away from him with a solid understanding of the material, rather than a temporary knowledge that gets your homework done but is absent from your memory by the time of your exams. And it’s hard to write off the fact that he’s easy on the eyes.

…Pretty damn hard, actually. Because—in all honesty—you’re really into Luigi. Another thing that’s hard to do is get your math homework done when you’re busy fucking yourself with your fingers, like you tend to do after your time with him, thinking about his cock, his hands, the way he would fill you, pin you down underneath him, smirk at you and tell you dirty things like that’s my girl, that’s my good fucking girl, that’s it, give it to me, show me how pretty you look when you come all over me like this…

Great. At this pace, you’ll never get anything done.

Your phone buzzes.

About an hour ago, you sent him a photo of your current predicament: your laptop and notebook open, and you sitting criss-crossed in front of it, an exaggerated pout on your lips. A few moments later, you sent another, this time of your middle finger pointed directly at your professor’s official portrait. Now, he responds:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Smh

Who studies the night before their final?? Dummy

You smile, replying:

i do :(

help pls :((

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : You poor thing

And then:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Come over. In like 15

We’ll work it out together

Score. He adds:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : And I better not hear any complaining when I make you actually do the math

Your crush feels elementary, like you’ve got the hots for the nerdy jock on the playground that’s miles out of your league and that every girl on planet Earth is fighting tooth and nail for. You respond:

no promises :P

You pray to your lucky stars that you can study as nonchalantly as humanly possible.

You told him you wouldn’t complain, and you’ve tried, you really have. But dividing radicals is fucking stupid and useless and the more you look at your paper the more these numbers and symbols really start to look all the same to you, just scribbles, meaningless scribbles of made-up concepts that have nothing to do with your career prospects whatsoever. Who gives a flying fuck about solving equations with these weird ass numbers that normal people don’t even use?

You must be thinking out loud, because Luigi laughs next to you on the couch. He is laughing at your frustration. What an emotionally supportive tutor. You groan and thread your fingers through your hair, massaging your temples.

Still smiling just slightly, he starts to gather up your things. “Alright, look, how about we take a break?” He glances over at you, still holding your head in your hands. “Yeah, let’s take a break for a minute.”

He gets up from the couch, disappears into the kitchen for just a moment. Comes back with a glass of orange juice. For you. You try not to think about how pathetic it is that the most romantic gesture a man has done for you in the past three years is bring you juice. Instead you watch him, sipping slowly—no pulp, he knows you so well—and peeking through your eyelashes as he scuttles around his dorm, just the two of you alone together, while he throws some laundry into a basket and absentmindedly closes doors of unoccupied rooms. You have never noticed how defined his calves are before, nor how his curls bounce just slightly when he walks fast or how his shorts sag on his hips just right, just enough for you to get a peek of his V-line and the waistband of his boxers when he raises his arms to stretch—

Nonchalant. Demure. Mindful. You are failing so hard at the one thing you’ve forbidden yourself from doing: staring at him until your eyes are practically burning holes in his clothes and he’s melting into the floor. Not entirely your fault. He should’ve known to dress modestly around you. Around anybody, for that matter.

Luigi comes to sit by you now. As you tuck your hair behind your ears you can feel his arm move to rest along the back of the couch, almost around you, but not quite.

“Hi,” you say, propping your head up on your arm.

He smiles at you. You can’t even look him in the eye. “Did you think more about your radicals?”

“Don’t remind me,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “No. I didn’t.”

“Well, what were you thinking about?”

You swallow the conspiratorial intuition that he has to be fucking with you. Maybe he sees it on your face. Can smell it on you. Something.

“I was trying to think of some things I’d rather be doing,” you offer. “Instead of math.”

Your heart feels three beats faster all of a sudden, and when did he get so close to you? Your thighs are touching, his knee brushing against yours. “And what did you come up with?” he asks.

Oh, fuck. He’s definitely fucking with you. Right? He has that goddamn smirk on his face, that one that makes your insides twist with a feeling reserved only for boys who look at you just like this, like you’re busted, like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about every second you’ve spent sitting next to him doing algebra. You want to kiss it right off of him.

“Nothing,” you lie, sitting up straight and trying to pretend like you really are interested in your studies. “Here, will you show me how to do it again?”

He calls your name. He doesn’t even have to ask for you to look at him; the tone of his voice and the tilt of his head makes his intentions entirely clear. When your eyes meet his he inches closer, and all you can manage to do is stare at his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, stern and warm enough to boil.

If he truly knew what he was asking for he wouldn’t be asking at all, you think. Not unless he was prepared for whatever your fervent need has in store for him. Embarrassment feels bright red and prickly on your skin. “I shouldn’t say.”

”But I think you should,” he whispers.

Oh. Oh. All bets are off, now. This has officially progressed from studying to “studying”.

Luigi lets you lead, his hand settling on the small of your back as you come a little closer to kiss him, properly. You hear him giggle before your lips meet; the curve of his smile against you is unmistakable, casting sparks through your body and down your thighs. He tastes like spearmint. You learn quickly that he is a fantastic kisser, and his tongue finds yours with curious excitement when your breathing starts to pick up. Without question, he claims the expanse of you, drinking in your essence, licking, biting. Those irresistible curls demand attention, and so you thread your fingers through his hair, your hand sweeping from behind his ear to the nape of his neck. Luigi shivers under your touch, exhaling softly against you.

When the fingers of his left hand raise to grasp your leg, you stop kissing him only to swing your body over his lap so that you’re straddling him. Luigi breathes in deep then, like his nervous system collectively seizes at the feeling of you so close. To give him room to breathe you stop short of settling all your weight onto him. Lips meeting once more, his hands greet your hips; his touch is warm, and timid, like you’re made of sand, like you might collapse and dissolve into immeasurable particles between his fingers.

He groans into your mouth. Murmurs your name. “This isn’t very productive,” he quips.

“Intellectually, no,” you agree, nails brushing the back of his neck. He has goosebumps. A ghost of a smile dancing on your lips, you slowly lower yourself down onto his lap; there are two layers of clothes between your bare skin but he is impossibly warm against you. “But what about physically?”

Luigi smiles, and fuck, he is too fucking beautiful. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

And so you kiss him again and again and again, your heart doing backflips inside your chest when his big hands glide lower, and lower, thumb toying with the waistband of your skirt, and lower still, until he’s gripping your ass. You can’t help but nuzzle against the growing stiffness underneath you, poking between your thighs—and you definitely can’t help but love the way he grinds back, hips meeting yours with just as much enthusiasm. Fuck. About an hour ago you were working through polynomials and linear equations, and now the dreamiest guy you’ve ever met is hard for you, holding you in his lap. You might as well thank your professor.

When Luigi sucks at your bottom lip for a few euphoric moments, you make the most pathetic sound into his mouth, and he growls, his hands suddenly coming up to grasp your hips and hold them steady. “Was this your plan all along?” he rasps, his lips moving swiftly to the side of your face, your jaw, the junction between your neck and shoulder.

Sharp teeth graze skin and you whimper. “What do you mean?”

“What, now you’re playing coy?” Luigi finds the pulse point in your throat and bites, softly at first, then harder when your fingers curl into the hair at the back of his head. “You didn’t want to study. You called me because you wanted to get fucked, because you knew I’d want to touch you just like this, didn’t you?”

This boy is out of his mind. First he practically eye-fucks you while schooling you about imaginary numbers, and then he “scolds” you like he’s disappointed in your lack of interest in algebra, like he’s mad that you can’t resist him for being so damn gorgeous. That half-hearted meanness in his tone leaves butterflies in your stomach, in no way helped by the feeling of his tongue sliding over your collarbone.

“No,” you mutter. It’s not completely a lie. You really did need his help with the math, which he is really good at…but you can’t deny that you were really hoping you two would end up like this, with him kissing your neck all over until you’re speckled with purple and pink. You don’t even care about the obvious evidence of him on your skin—you want his entire dorm hall to know just how well-acquainted the two of you are by the time he’s done with you. The thought of everyone knowing you’re his makes you weak.

Luigi is kissing you again, slowly and deeply, one hand coming up to cup your breast through your shirt. His touch is too much and not enough simultaneously, your need overwhelming, and your hips are searching desperately for friction, rolling against him eagerly. So much for nonchalance.

He grasps your chin, firm but not at all painful, and flashes you that pretty smile, tutting, “I don’t believe you.”

Your mind is far too preoccupied with thoughts of his touch in other places to try to formulate a witty rebut. You opt instead to kiss him harder and sneak a hand between your bodies, tracing over his chest, down his carefully crafted abdomen, and then over the front of his shorts, groping his hard cock through polyester. Luigi groans into your mouth. He is big, almost intimidating, and imagining him inside of you has your body feeling hot all over.

As you palm the outline of his length through his trousers, his hands make their way underneath your sweater, the sudden warmth of him jolting through your torso. You look up at him through your lashes and he smirks.

“Do you want to sit on it?” he asks you, entirely stoic despite the weight of his words.

You kiss him, still squeezing his cock. “Can I put it in my mouth first?”

Fuck. You have him wrapped around your finger. How could he possibly say no when you ask so sweetly? Luigi is instantly pulling down his shorts for you, the rustle of fabric making your head spin. He’s left in just his boxers and a sweater that you quickly help him shrug off, too. Once you have him undressed, he takes a moment to survey you, your cheeks flushed, eyes lidded, hair tousled from his hands. You feel a surge of confidence now that you have his full attention and so you pull your top up and over your head, smiling when he reaches behind you to help you with your bra. He has it and your skirt off in just a few seconds, leaving your combined clothes to pile up next to the couch.

You shift so that you’re kneeling on the floor in front of him, wearing only your panties, watching him watching you. He is grinning, his cock standing proud, and you know you must be blushing by the way his teeth flash from under the curve of his lips. You feel gooey and hot in the pit of your stomach. Swallowing your shyness, you reach forward to take him in your hand. He’s already sticky at the tip, precum glistening on his slit, and so you begin to stroke him, starting at the head of his dick and spreading slick down his shaft. His cock is probably the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen, at the very least a runner-up for his face: tan and thick, his girth evenly distributed, and big enough to have you feeling your heartbeat between your legs. There is a prominent vein along the underside of him, ending at his frenulum. He pulses with each movement of your hand.

Once he’s as wet as you like, you come closer to tease him with your tongue, licking up the base, tracing his vein, passing over his slit. Luigi groans—“fuuuuuck, baby,”—and threads his fingers into your hair, tugging hard.

“Don’t be a fucking tease,” he rasps. “You asked for this. Show me what that mouth can do.”

Your lips are halfway wrapped around the head of him and when you moan at his words it vibrates through him, his abs flexing deliciously. You move further down, then, mouth closed around his length, applying light pressure on your way back up. He’s too big to take all of him at once and so your left hand grasps the length you can’t reach, pumping gently. You start a subtle, easy rhythm, evenly paced and obviously satisfying enough to have Luigi panting and swearing above you: your mouth starts at his tip, sucking gently, then gliding lower, until you can feel him in the back of your throat and you’re nearly gagging on him—and then you move upward again, cheeks hollowing around him, finally reaching the head of him once more. Rinse and repeat. It is organized. Formulaic. Your process leaves you practically drooling on his cock, spit collecting at the base where you are stroking him. Fuck. You haven’t pleased a guy like this in quite a while, and under any other circumstances you’d probably feel a bit insecure about your work; but it’s difficult to justify any doubts you might have, what with the noises coming from above you:

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby, yes, just like that, fuck yes,” Luigi moans, fingers knotted tightly in your hair. “Oh my god, your mouth…”

You slip your free hand into your panties, middle and ring finger rubbing your clit.

As your ministrations intensify, his reactions do, too. You can feel his thighs and hips tensing in an effort not to fuck into your throat. But you made a promise to yourself; you want to take the entirety of his length in your mouth before all of this is over, and so you move your left hand down to his balls, kneading him and carefully lowering your face until your nose is pressed into the curly hairs of his groin, his cock as deep as it can reach. And Luigi keens, head thrown back against the couch, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the armrest tight. You can feel him twitching in your throat.

There are a few blissful moments of you sucking him just like this, sinking him deep into your throat and pinching your lips around his tip, and you almost wish the two of you were recording because the sounds he makes are top tier jerk material for at least the next few months. He’d be a natural on camera. You want to commit every second of this to your memory.

When he goes quiet for a moment you open your eyes to look at him. You find him staring down at you, mouth agape. “Are you touching yourself?” he asks.

It’s difficult to answer with his dick in your mouth, so you settle for moaning around him again, eyes fluttering shut.

“Holy fuck,” he grunts, his voice sweeter than sugar.

You could sit here sucking him off for the rest of your life—you could die with his dick in your mouth—but you regrettably begin to feel your jaw aching, knowing full well that keeping this up will have you hurting. Not that you really mind. When you begin to sputter and tear up around him, he grabs both sides of your face and pulls your mouth off of his cock. You are crying, just a little, crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks, your throat raw.

Luigi looks down at you sweetly. “Oh, baby,” he coos, wiping your wet face dry with his thumbs. “That’s my perfect girl. So good to me. Come here.”

He welcomes you back onto his lap with open arms and a smile. He is warm, so warm and soft against you, you could fall asleep just like this. But he is kissing you now, so slowly that you feel dizzy, and so you ground yourself, fingers embracing his curls. His hands move to your hips, grasping the waistband of your panties, teasing you, rubbing the fabric against your heat. When he finally has them off his fingers are instantly examining you, collecting your slick, slipping through your folds.

“Let’s see about a little reward for you, hm?” he whispers, capturing your lips with his.

You kiss him eagerly and arch your back so that your thighs spread wide enough for his fingers to enter you with ease—not that it would be difficult without, considering that you’re so wet you can hear him touching you, even over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Two long digits move inside of you, stretching you, massaging that spot that makes your knees buckle and your eyes cross, plus a few more that you never knew existed. His touch feels so good, just how you imagined, and you have to lean forward into the crook of his neck to keep yourself upright, your teeth sinking into a firm shoulder. Luigi makes a gruff sound, almost a chuckle, and his cock jumps at your whiny, choked noises when he adds a third finger into your pussy.

“So needy, aren’t you?” he teases. “Have you been thinking about this, gorgeous? About sucking my cock and taking my fingers like this?”

You nod, because of course you have. In that exact order. Who wouldn’t?

Luigi smiles at you, soft and adoring. You make a curious sound and his fingers depart from you, lingering at your entrance until you grind down into his lap. Your cunt brushes against him, raw, hungry, slathering his cock with your slick.

“I want you,” you whine, grabbing his face and kissing him again. “I want all of you.”

“Yeah, baby?” His hands are guiding your hips, moving you slowly against him. “Tell me about it.”

Well, you would, if your brain weren’t short-circuiting at the moment. His fault. You mumble into his ear, something about infinity, something about the way you hug your pillow at night and all the times you’ve fucked yourself stupid thinking about this very image of you and him together like this. But there are countless words for your endless feelings, words you would preach to him from high places if your body had the agency to; your attraction to him is primal, but neatly arranged, layered, wrapped up with variables galore and multiplying with each moment you spend in his presence. A mess, no doubt about it, but one you can control, a tangle to unravel, an equation to solve. Nothing less. You aren’t sure of how this ends but you know that you need him, bad, more than you knew was possible before.

You crash into him, mouths colliding, everything that you left unsaid spilling into your embrace. Words are hard. Kissing Luigi and grinding your warm, throbbing cunt against him takes much less brainpower.

He is speaking to you when you pull away: “Baby, just a second, wait right here, let me get something.” Gently you are pushed from his lap and he disappears into his room momentarily, leaving you waiting, alone, aching for him, until he rounds the corner again with a familiar foil packet, finding his way back to the couch and sweeping you on top of him once more.

“Hi. Sorry.” And now he is fully yours.

You whine and wiggle against him the second the condom is on.

“Shh,” Luigi whispers, “I got you, ‘s okay, gorgeous. Gonna take good care of you, yeah? Don’t you worry. Gonna give you just what you need, baby.”

The tip of his cock is pressing into you, then, slowly easing himself inside, and fuck, he fits just right, fills you up perfectly, has you seeing stars already. The sound you make when he bottoms out is a hop, skip, and a jump away from pornographic. Luigi purrs underneath you.

“Oh, I know, baby, I know.” His hand slides down to grip your ass, spreading you, and from this angle you can feel just how much he stretches you out. And then, as he begins to roll his hips: “My sweet girl, working so hard, can’t even think for yourself, can you, beautiful? That’s okay, baby. I can do all the thinking for you, you just sit back and let me work it out for you, yeah? Don’t think. Just let me please this pussy.”

It’s like he’s trying to kill you. Every single word he says into your ear shoots straight to your cunt, the mere sound of his voice so near you electrifying. He’s deep, and with your thighs spread wide like this you just have to take advantage of the perfect angle to rub your clit against him. You can’t help but squeal into the crook of his neck each time his hips ram up into you, thighs clapping against your ass; by the way his muscles tense you assume it must take much of his energy, and yet he pounds you like you weigh nothing in his lap, exerting himself like it’s a cakewalk so long as he can watch your face shrivel up with overwhelming delectation. You can tell that he loves it when you tug his hair or bite him, and so you do it every chance you get, just in case your hushed utterances in his ear fail to make your message clear enough:

“Luigi, fuckfuckfuck, oh my god, oh, fuck…”

As he paces himself Luigi wraps his strong arms around you, one caging your waist and the other pulling tight at your hair. Your neck is arched and exposed, leaving him free to smother his love all over you in sharp, uneven hickeys. You needed this, so, so bad, and you tell him exactly that, chanting thank you, thank you, thank you and holding him tight.

“Whatever you want,” he whispers. “You can have whatever you want with me. Anything.” His lips meet yours, fleeting, and then, with the slightest hint of a grin: “You earned this, baby.”

You groan directly into his ear. It’s straight from your dreams, you think, like you’ve been swept from your bed in the midst of the night and dropped right here, in the lap of the sweetest, smartest, most handsome boy you’ve ever so much as looked at, bouncing on his cock while he kisses you like you’ll float away if he lets go. The two of you work together to heighten each other’s inevitable undoing, like a function of sorts; Luigi pushes and you push back, meeting his hips every time, your clit brushing against him just right, and him breaching unknown depths of you, hands roaming, learning you inside and out.

“My sweet girl,” he grabs your face and rests his forehead against yours, driving into you with precision. “This is all yours, baby.”

Sweat starts to gather at his hairline and you can feel him shuddering in your arms. Kissing him, you press down on his toned chest, pinning him against the couch, and Luigi is practically singing for you, little grunts and babys and murmurs of your name traveling through your ears and echoing in your mind. You want this to last forever. His hips slow to a stop when you begin to move on your own; you raise yourself up, resting all your weight on your knees, with him sliding out of your cunt until just the tip is still inside—and then you drop down, letting him sink back into you quickly, slick and smooth, his cock so deep you can nearly feel it in your stomach.

Fuck. You love this. You love the way his hands grip your ass, your thighs, rubbing your back, moaning your name and kissing behind your ear. You love the way he looks at you. The pupils of those dark eyes are blown wide, watching you move, worshipping how your tits bounce, the gyration of your hips, the blush of arousal all over you, your bottom lip wedged between your teeth. The sounds of sex and the shameless way he takes in every feature of your body have you feeling hot and ready to burst. You moan his name, drawn out and raspy.

“Yes,” Luigi groans. “You’re so pretty on top of me.”

Even through the haze of your pleasure you smile at his praise. He is telling you everything, every single thought that passes by in his mind, as if there will be no proof of how good he fucked you once you leave his dorm, as if every word will dissipate into thin air and leave you waiting, unsatisfied, hanging on the edge: “You take it so well, baby, my sweet girl, so perfect, so perfect just for me.”

His big hands are all over you. One cups your breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth, with the other splayed over your hip. You start to feel dizzy, anxious for his attention, a little bit crazy. Close. Luigi must notice the way your eyes screw shut and your pussy squeezes him tight, because his hand moves down your chest, over your stomach, and then to your clit, circling his fingers with purpose. He wishes—almost—that you were beneath him, so that he could replace his hand with his mouth, trace down your body with his lips and bring you to your very edge with his tongue, over and over again, until you’re begging him to stop.

He settles instead for kissing you, hard, slowly, lingering. “You have no fucking idea how bad I’ve been wanting this, baby.”

You nod, moaning, “yes, yes, me too,” your noises pained and rough in your throat.

The way his cock slams into you with each movement of your hips is ruthless, bruising; he’s kissing you so sweetly and you can feel your climax churning in your abdomen, rippling through you. It knocks the air from your lungs. Sex with him hurts so good. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

“Gonna come,” you huff. There are fingernail-sized dents in his skin. “Gonna come for you.”

Luigi nods, whispers, “good girl, such a good girl,” and circles his fingers over your clit as fast as he can manage.

You tense around him at that. You can’t even count how many times you’ve come imagining those very words whispered in your ear by the very man that you’re riding right now.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Yeah? You like that? You like being a good girl for me?”

You nod wildly, and everything feels so real all of a sudden, like you’ve been floating mindlessly in space and you are crashing down into reality. His teeth dig into the sensitive skin of your neck and his hips start to pump again and by the time he’s meeting your thrusts you’ve had enough, thighs shaking, and he starts moaning into your ear so that you know he’s right there with you, and fuck, he’s really trying to kill you—

Your orgasm hits you like a truck. A 5’11, dark haired and brown eyed muscle truck that looks at you like you are the only good thing left in the world.

For a moment there is only your deep panting and his equally spent breaths as the both of you rest, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your back, yours combing through his sweat-soaked curls. The dorm is quiet, calm, almost with an air of innocence, completely unswayed by the heady aftermath of what the two of you just did right there on the couch. You lean back and look into his eyes, brooding and trained entirely on you. And he has that stupid grin on his face, the one that gives both of you away for good, the one that screams we’re not the only ones who know what we’ve been up to.

You want to kiss it right off of his beautiful, beautiful face. But right now you just sigh, lean into his shoulder, and let him hold you tight. Tonight you will walk back to your dorm, all the way on the other side of campus, where your roommates will be waiting for you, likely getting ready for bed. You will walk inside and they will watch you without a clue as to whose hands have been on you, whose name has been on your lips, whose cock has been buried to the hilt inside of you for the past hour. Your legs will be aching—you are sure of it.

Your roommates will ask you, “how’d it go?”, completely unaware of what your wobbly smile really means, how you really spent your time with your cute tutor.

And you will respond, “oh, great,” with a barely masked giggle. “I’m gonna ace my test tomorrow.”

[stove-top96]

Wicked Game

Ch. 00

Y Batfam x GN Reader

featuring: platonic Tim Drake.

1.3k words

It’s been a hot minute. I broke my hand snowboarding, then had tests. The writing for this one is significantly better, I’m taking a creative writing class for extra credits and decided to try something new with how I formate my chapters. I’ll be posting a chapter to both my story and my concept soon. This idea has just been in my head and the story I have planned out is exciting.

Prologue -> Ch. 01

Class Schedule

1st period: Art

2nd period: Maths

12:00 - 13:00: Lunch

3rd period: biology

4th period: English

3:50 Dismissal

4:00 - 6:00: Basketball practice

(Friday 5:00 -> Basketball game)

You twirl your pencil between your fingers, lazily watching as everyone else scribbles notes, following the math equation Mr. Snyder is rambling on about. It’s been ten minutes on the same question, and you’ve checked out about thirty minutes ago. Not that it’s Mr. Snyder’s fault—Gotham Prep has the best teachers. It’s just maths has never been your thing. It’s 2 weeks into the new semester and you're already falling behind. Probably not a great start.

You glance up at the clock—11:53. Ugh. Lunch can’t come soon enough. Mr. Snyder’s voice makes time drag on and on. You dash out of the classroom the moment the bell rings and head straight to Brandi’s locker.

“Girl, I’m literally gonna lose it. I can’t handle these people, they’re insane,” you spill out, frustration pouring from you. Rants like these have become more frequent.

“Tell me about it,” Brandi shoots back, her voice sharp with annoyance. “I’ve never met people so out of touch with reality. These pretentious assholes.” She grits her teeth. “How are they even real?”

You nod, walking together towards the cafeteria. Brandi continues her rant, but it’s nice—almost comforting—to know someone else feels the same way. She’s the only other Scholarship student in the grade—your only friend.

Lunch is its own endeavour. Students give weird looks as you two eat your packed food. The two of you learned very quickly that these kids were in a league of their own, and didn’t take too kindly to outsiders.

As you and Brandi talk mindless gossip, lunch flies by. biology’s next it’s your favourite. There’s nothing better than Mrs. Young’s lectures. She’s able to bring life to the lessons, and the material has a way of sticking.

Heading to class a little early you grab a seat near the back. It’s the only table without another person there. Mrs. Young tends to be late to class, so what better way to pass time than to scroll on your phone. Engrossed in TikTok a voice snaps you back into reality.

“Mind if I sit here”

Glancing up from your phone, you recognize the face almost instantly— you’d be stupid not to— Tim drake. Dark brown hair, bright blue eyes and a ‘pretty boy’ face. He’s practically the ‘it boy’ of the school, popular, friendly, and stupid rich. There’s still plenty of other open seats around the class. Probably beside people he’s better acquainted with. But he wants to sit with you? “Sure” you shrug, not like you were gonna talk to the guy.

The bell rings for the end of lunch, Mrs. Young still hasn’t shown up. The silence between you two is suffocating, even inside the room filled with mindless chatter.

“I’m Tim by the way” his introduction was meant to ease the awkwardness. He knew that you knew who he was. “y/n” you answer, praying the teacher will walk in, anything to get you out of this conversation.

”you’re on the basketball team right? You got in on an athletic scholarship?” He asked, ignoring the way you slump into your seat. “Yep” you mumble. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for students to recognize who’s on scholarship and who isn’t—especially athletes. But for him to know you're on the Basketball team 2 weeks into the school year— Kinda weird. But questioning him would mean talking to him, and you weren’t gonna engage.

Before the silence could get too awkward Mrs. Young walks in, and begins the lesson. The lymphatic system. It wasn’t your weakest subject but definitely not your strongest. Today is especially hard. Mrs. Young is unusually keen on racing through as much of the topic as possible.

You rush to write notes and keep up with the teacher but before you’ve even finished 1 sentence she’s erasing the board. Sighing in defeat, you slump back into your chair. Maybe if you just listen to the teacher you’ll be able to grasp most concepts? you’ll just scan through the textbook after practice.

Tim must’ve noticed your defeat, because a moment later he slides over his notebook. God, even his handwriting is perfect. Copying down the rest of his notes.

“thanks.” You mumble, he nods with a subtle smirk on his face.

The next 45 minutes follow the same pattern—you write down as much as, then copy the rest from Tim, and repeat.

It's only until Mrs. Young claps her hands together. The loud sound grabbed everybody’s attention “We finally get to start our first group project of the semester!” Her excitement is met with groans from the class. “because I don’t want you guys to get too comfortable I took the liberty of choosing your partners”. Your stomach drops. Not that you knew anyone here it was still obvious who would make a good partner and who wouldn’t.

As Mrs Young lists off names you don’t recognize “y/n l/n” your head perks up. “And Tim Drake”. Fuck. Your stomach twists. You really didn’t want to go with him. Sure, he’s nice enough to share his notes for sure but he’s still Tim Drake, it’d be much less drama to avoid him.

Tim didn’t even bother hiding his smirk. “The project must be a poster of any negative or positive feedback loop. Be sure to discuss details with your partners. I won’t be giving much class time, so plan accordingly”

The bell rang signaling the end of class, and you were quick to pack up and get out. The sooner you’re gone the better.

“So how do you want to do this?” Tim asked as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I don’t really care. you pick”

gym’s next, so you should leave as soon as you can. “Let’s work on it tomorrow after your basketball game. We can choose our topic together,” he answered.

Great, now you’re gonna have to spend your evening with the guy. “My game will probably take 2 hours,” you said. That should probably be enough to get him to back off.

“I’ll watch, I like basketball” you raise a brow. “I guess” you shrug.

The rest of the day blurred together— same mind numbing stories in English, same repetitive drills in practice. By the time it’s all over you’re already on the subway heading home. A wave of exhaustion falls over you.

Unlocking the Door to the empty apartment, you want nothing more than to crash into your bed and doom scroll for the rest of the night. Still you figure you should eat something and take a quick shower first.

Scanning the fridge and cupboards like expected there isn’t much. With a sigh you grabbed a box of cereal and poured a bowl before heading to the bathroom to shower.

The evening passed uneventfully. You weren’t expecting your mother to be back anytime soon, so it was just the quiet hum of the apartment.

A buzz from your phone snapped you back to reality.

<Unknown Number>

Hey y/n it’s Tim Brandi gave me your number for the project.

You roll your eyes. Why would Brandi do that? It's totally unlike her. Tim must’ve been persistent. Hovering over the message you debated answering or not. After a beat you typed back.

<Y/N>

Cool, I’ll see you tomorrow then.

Short and simple, Tim probably won’t send another message. With a sigh you put your phone on silent, and roll over to finally get some sleep. Once you get through this project you’ll never have to talk to him again.

little did you know the project will be the least of your worries.

[yurinaa-world]

platonic dr ratio with child reader having a personality of madoka magica? the reader is a magical girl and dr ratio idk taking care of their clumsy behavior? i dont see anyone writing for platonic dr ratio and i really need a bit of comfort😭

write whenever you want or idk

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Dr. Ratio platonic! x Gender-neutral Reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a student reader that has the personality of Madoka Magica

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff and spelling mistakes,

����𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜

He doesn’t like your clumsy behaviour at all. Please watch you run around during battle; it might be worse than looking at an idiot's face. You're unpaired and should think of a plan before you jump.

A lot of the time, he’ll have to fight alongside you since you’re illiterate and can’t figure out where the enemy's weak points are.

But don't think it’s the battlefield is the only place he’s going to teach you. Count the classroom also because now you’re officially his student, and he’ll ensure you’ll become the best. He’ll make you shine like the star you meant to be! But this means you're going to have to do math…You'd rather fight than do the math!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Your teacher, Dr. Ratio, immediately stopped you from leaving his class. You already know the problem since he’s 100% going to yell and lecture you for hours because of your poor grades. “Yes si..-" You swiftly turned back but went a little fast and fell right backwards. You were finding yourself on the floor while in a bit of pain.

“Enough with this Tomfoolery.” He sighs, watching you get from the ground. “Sorry, dr. ratio " “It’s Mr. Ratio to you.” “Sorry, Mr. What seems to be the problem?” You scratch the back of your neck, a little nervous. "The math test you did yesterday. Why, no earth, did you get 8 out of 20." 

You might have rushed it a little, so you get out there since you were the only one still doing the test. You didn't know it would be this bad! Now you'll have to do extra work. "really? but I tried my best!" Your words weren't convincing at all to him. "What? Are you trying your best to fail? It's as if you weren't even reading the paper and just doodling on it," he disappointed expression as he turned your test in his hands so you could look at it.

It's just a bunch of cats in black ink and nonsense answers to the questions. "From tomorrow, you're getting extra work," Dr. Ratio goes over to write in his book. You sigh, knowing this is going to happen. 

"come on, it was just a couple of mistakes!" 

"12 incorrect answers."

"I'll do better next! Please!" you clasped your hands together. Hoping he shows you a little mercy, but no, he will never show you any mercy. If you can learn it when he's being nice, he'll beat you instead.

 "you're right; I ensure you’ll get a perfect score.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[detentiontrack]

hi there, hope you're doing well! do you have any survival tips for freshmen starting their first semester at college? thanks!

Hello! Yes I do! Up until this Tuesday, all of my experience has been at a community college, but I have some universal advice!

Sage's supercool freshman survival guide:

You don't need expensive and a wide variety of school supplies. Here is a list of what you need:

A notebook for each class

A good pack of pens (i like gel pens)

A pack of pencils (+ sharpener) or mechanical pencils

Either colored pens, thin tip markers, or highlighters for notes

Ruler and calculator if you are taking math/science classes

A binder or folder for loose papers

GRAPH PAPER. Even just a pack of loose graph paper. It sucks when you need it and don't have it

2. it's better to take notes on paper vs on a computer unless you have some sort of reason (like dyslexia, visual impairment, or other physical disability etc) Taking paper notes forces your brain to pay attention better, and you can reference them easier than if you take them on a computer. (plus a lot of professors don't allow laptops in lectures unless you have an accommodation with the school)

3. GET A PLANNER! A PHYSICAL ONE!!!! Online calendars and planners are okay, but it is MUCH easier to forget assignments if they're out of sight. Get a paper planner, fill it out each week so you know what you're doing, and keep it opened on the current week somewhere you can see it. I personally like the planners intended for teachers because it divides the days up with individual subjects! This is the one I got for this school year

4. Get a giant ass water bottle. If you are going from class to class, you most likely won't have time to refill your water bottle. Get a huge one, fill it up at home or at your dorm or whatever, and carry it with you. I promise you it is worth adding an extra thing to carry (mine is a 1/2 gallon)

5. No one at college cares about stuff like in high school. No one cares what you're wearing or how you're doing your hair. In fact, individuality is ENCOURAGED. Wear bright colorful makeup or weird earrings. Do what makes you happy.

6. Pack yourself lunches and snacks that you can easily stuff in your face while walking to your next class. I'm a big fan of protein shakes and granola bars.

7. Ask questions! No one will think you're annoying for asking "too many" questions. It's better to over ask than under ask and not understand the topic. Chances are, at least one other person in the room has the same question as you.

8. Similar to number 7, most professors will gladly go back and explain a topic again or in a different way! Just politely and respectfully ask for them to briefly go over it again, or define a word you don't understand.

9. Unlike high school, most professors don't care, and will actually get annoyed if you interrupt their lesson to ask to go to the bathroom or take a phone call or even leave class early. Unless they explicitly say you can't leave (like during a test) you can just walk out, no questions asked.

10. Do every extra credit assignment you can. Even if you have a good grade in the class. You never know when you'll forget an assignment or lose points for something small. It's good to have backup.

11. Just like in a good relationship, communication with professors is everything.

12. Make connections with people in your classes. You don't have to be besties, but introduce yourself to a few people in class, make small talk, and get their phone numbers. That way you can discuss assignments or get notes if you miss a class.

13. DO NOT slack on first week assignments. Most professors WILL drop you if you A. Don't attend the first week of classes and/or B. Don't turn in the first few assignments.

14. Register for classes as soon as you possibly can. Like if your group is able to register at 9am, be in front of your computer with the registration site open at 8:55am, just to be ready.

15. ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS CHECK RATEMYPROFESSOR BEFORE REGISTERING FOR CLASSES!!! NEVER IN YOUR LIFE REGISTER WITHOUT CHECKING. IF YOU ARE LATE TO REGISTER AND A GENERAL EDUCATION CLASS AT THE PERFECT TIME SLOT IS COMPLETLEY OPEN, IT IS FOR A FUCKING REASON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Rate my professor is really accurate because people are able to submit honest reviews anonymously after the class is over. If someone says the teacher is a hard ass who is flakey and assigns a lot of reading, BELIEVE IT. Ideally you want a professor that has above a 3.5/5 rating.

16. There is no shame in needing accommodations for a disability, and getting accommodations in college is a lot easier than in k-12 school. You just need to make a request and submit proof of disability, and you'll meet with someone to give you accommodations.

17. DO NOT buy textbooks until the first week of class is over. This is for 2 reasons. 1. you might need to drop the class and 2. most professors will just give you a link to the textbook for free or post individual chapters every week. There is no point in spending $200 for a textbook you might not even use.

18. I think at every college, you can drop a class with no consequences or anything on your record as long as you drop it within the first week or so (the exact time differs depending on the college, but it's always on their website)

19. Colleges very often have events with free food or free merch. Even if you have no interest in the event, a free hot dog is a free hot dog yk?

20. If you're a freshman, literally no one knows each other and everyone is worrying about making new friends. Literally everyone. Find someone who seems cool, compliment their outfit or say something about the class/the college, and boom. New friend.

21. If you have time, join a club! Colleges have clubs for EVERYTHING and it's an easy way to connect with people who have the same interests.

22. Before your first day of class, if you're neurotic like me, take time to think of a few things: 2 truths and a lie, 3 fun facts about yourself, your favorite __, etc. Just so you can be ready for icebreakers (I actually don't know if other people are as scared of first day icebreakers as me.... Every semester I prepare 2 truths and a lie and fun facts about me so I'm ready. Just in case. This just might be my specific flavor of autism though...)

23. Colleges are big, even community colleges. Make yourself a playlist and bring headphones for walking from class to class

24. Jumping off 23, when you're choosing your classes, pull up a map of your campus. Learn how long of a walk it is from building to building, so you can make sure you have enough time to walk to your next class. This goes double if you have a physical disability. I personally need some extra time so I can drink water and walk slowly.

25. Prioritize comfort over style. Most people by the third week will just be wearing tshirts/sweaters with jeans/sweatpants. There also usually isn't a super strict dress code at college. I had a girl in my astronomy class that exclusively wore bikini tops and booty shorts, and she never had any problems.

26. It's easy to tunnel vision and schedule your classes back to back, but try to give yourself at least one gap for lunch, to stretch, or to just hang out. I have 3 on campus classes this semester and my morning class ends at 11:45am and my second class doesn't start until 1:00pm. You're (most likely) an adult, close to an adult, or have adult responsibilities. One of those responsibilities is to take initiative to take care of yourself.

27. College professors, unless they're abnormally strict, literally don't care about anything, as long as your ass is in the chair and you're not being disruptive to others. Drinking water in class? Fine. Doodling on your notes? Fine. Doing homework for another class? Fine, as long as you look up like you're paying attention occasionally. I wrote amphibia fanfiction in my classes, and I had a girl in my public speaking class who literally brought yarn and a crochet hook and crocheted stuff in class.

28. OH that's another thing! Literally no one cares about your public speaking skills. In college, it is inevitable that you'll have to take one class with speeches. People aren't waiting for you to slip up to mock you. Most people are too focused on their own speeches. I took a public speaking class last year, and I genuinely could not tell you the topic of even ONE other student's speech. It is very likely that 90% of the people won't even be paying attention to your presentation because they're worrying about if they're next.

29. In group projects, be a bitch. I'm serious. DO NOT do all the work. If people in your group aren't moving, assign them their share of work. If they still don't participate, threaten to leave. If they still don't, ask the teacher to work alone. You NEED to stand up for yourself.

30. Most colleges have a lot of services for free (or included in tuition) you should use. The library is a great resource, I'm typing this on the laptop I rented for free from my school, and I believe my college has completely free STD checks and birth control options available through their health services.

31. Expand your horizons! In college, you get a LOT of options for electives and classes. Take the fun classes or a topic you've never heard of! I'm taking a philosophy of disability class this semester for my extra humanities credit.

32. Build a good relationship with your professors. It never hurts to go up to them before or after the first class and introduce yourself.

33. DO NOT leave things for the last minute. I like to write down all my assignments for the week in my planner, sorted by due date, color coded, and plan which assignments I'm going to do on what days.

34. Take advantage of professor's office hours, especially if it's a subject you're not strong in. Personally, I'm not the best at math, and the summer I took statistics for psych, I was at my professor's office hours every single Tuesday. Even if you think you understand the subject perfectly, you never know when you're making a mistake without realizing it. It can just be a less than 5 minute zoom visit of like "hey, this is my answer to question 5 and here's my work/process. Is this correct? Yes? Okay thanks see you in class"

35. Summer classes, especially in community colleges, are a great way to get extra credits and make it so you don't have such a heavy load during the regular school year. A lot of summer classes are online, so it's really easy to do at home. But.....

36. ...NEVER IN YOUR LIFE TAKE A SUBJECT YOU ARE NOT STRONG IN OR A SUBJECT WITH A LOT OF WORK IN A CONDENSED SUMMER CLASS. Summer classes are always more work per week because you have less time to go through the curriculum, so be sure it's a light class. I took my world religions class as an 8 week summer class and oh my god.... I am being 100% serious and not exaggerating when I say I had to read 500-750+ pages a week......... be careful

37. Make time for other things! Even if you're full time school and work, let yourself watch an episode of your favorite show after homework or during a break. Rest and recreation is important too.

38. Treat yourself! When I was a kid, my mom would let me and my brother pick out a little candy at the grocery store for a "friday treat" during the school year. I still do that. It can be as simple as buying a $2 chocolate bar or finally trying that bath bomb you got as a gift.

39. You are inevitably going to get a low grade on something. You're going to struggle with a subject or misunderstand an instruction. Not one single person has made it through all of college without getting anything less than a 100%. Ask for feedback from your professors. Don't beat yourself up.

40. You don't have to have a backpack. I use a green messenger bag with embroidered mushrooms on it :3

Hope this helps!

[parkaplayboy]

75% || Chapter 1

stylenny x gender neutral reader

You're a senior in college during your final semester, but you find out that you're dangerously close to failing a class that you need to graduate. Lucky for you (or unlucky, depending on how you look at it) you get paired up with a tutor.

words: 1.4k

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Friday at 12:45 pm

The tiny office was just as dingy as it was dim, and you were pretty sure if  you took a black light to the floor you’d see the outline of a body. Between the awkward silence and the repetitive noise of her overgrown acrylics tapping against her keyboard connected to the monitor that looked like it clawed its way out of the nineties, you were going insane. You cleared your throat to break the silence, but it came out more as a strangled growl. Lucky for you, the woman took the bait, she paused and looked up at you as if you just ruined her day. “Well, as I said, if you don’t pass this class, you won’t graduate this semester.” You briefly debated if the fall from the miniscule window to your right would do the job. “Well, is there any way that I can fix it? Y'know.. have an underdog moment?”  You tried to joke, hoping to see the tight lipped frown crack even a fraction of a smile. Instead, your advisor turned back to her computer silently, the annoying tapping resuming once again. “It’s possible, you would have to have to get at least a 70% on every homework and quiz, and at least a 75% on the final. So, it’s do-able.” You perked up slightly at that, a flicker of hope in your eyes, then you unceremoniously slumped back down. You weren’t failing because you were lazy, you were failing because you’re fucking abysmal at math. So much for that dream. As if your inner turmoil finally breached the seemingly impenetrable walls of this 56 year old woman from New Jersey, she sighed. “Since you’re in trouble for failing this class for the second time in a row, you’re now considered to be in danger of being put on academic probation. Which means we must provide you with a tutor.” You perked up once again. “Tutor? That could be good.” At the very least, if someone who could actually understand whatever the fuck you’re being taught is helping you, you just might have some hope after all. The woman grabbed a blank notecard, scribbling on it quickly. “This is your assigned tutor. You must meet with him twice a week, which he will have to report back to university so we will know if you skip sessions. His name and email are written on that card, so contact him to set up appointments starting next week.” You shoved the notecard in your pocket as you adamantly nodded, listening to her spiel and absentmindedly folding a corner of the notecard between your fingers. Once she finished talking she turned away from you, dialing a number on her phone and shooing you away with her free hand.

Friday at 1:23 pm

You pulled open the door to the lecture hall, briefly scanning the room for the perfect place to sit. Deciding on a row just close enough to the middle for you to hear, but far enough to the back that your row wouldn’t fill up. You plopped yourself down into your chair, pulling out your laptop and notebook. Out of the corner of your eye, red curls bounced slightly as they descended down the stairs. You looked up, eyes tracking the owner of the curls who found a seat 3 rows from the front. Kyle Broflovski, psychology major and vice president of the student government, but more importantly, he was the only thing that made you excited to come to class. ‘Intro to Ethics’ had nothing to do with your major, but it was one of the only available classes that filled one of the random credits that you needed to graduate. ‘Speaking of graduation, you should probably email your tutor in hopes of avoiding being a college dropout.’ However, your moment of proactiveness was interrupted as your professor entered the room, immediately diving into the daily trolley problem ice breaker. “Your two choices are a mom and her two toddlers or a homeless man and his pet dog.”

Friday at 3:10 pm

“So you’re not going to graduate?” Your roommate asked, not looking up from his computer and aggressively clicking the right button on his mouse. “Possibly! My advisor says that I can still pass the class if I lock in and get like, 70% on the assignments and 75% on the final.” You slump down, face first into his bed. “That’s not that bad! What class is it, again?” Evan asked, cursing his teammates under his breath as he mashed a button on his keyboards. “Calc two” Evan didn’t respond for a moment, movements getting faster before coming to a victorious halt, the win cutscene enveloping his screen. “Oh yeah, you’re fucked. You’re shit at math.” You groaned, wishing for the bed to swallow you whole. “I know! My only hope is..” You gasped and sat up. “I gotta go.” You sped walked out of the room, closing your roommate’s door behind you, and crossed the hall in favor of your own bedroom. You grabbed your laptop from your bag, rifling through your pockets before you sit on your bed. Once you completed the 17-step verification and 3 riddles that your school requires to simply log into your university email, you unfolded the notecard. “You’re fucking lying.” Written on the note card in cursive with dark green ink read: 

‘Kyle Broflovski Email: KB71297@dsu.edu’

Tuesday at 4:52 pm

You checked your hair in the dirty mirror of the campus library bathroom, exhaling a shaky breath. After reaching out to Kyle, you’d set up a time for 5:00 pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “Fuck it.” You swiveled on your heels, exiting the bathroom and heading for the booth against the windows. You had arrived embarrassingly early, 4:29 pm, to be exact. But, it was a good thing you did, because you had spent the last 20 minutes cursing your ancestors for letting this happen. You sat in the booth, doing the awkward little shuffle thing to get situated, staring down at the homework you were going to be working on. "What the hell does McLaurin Series even mean?” As you muttered profanities about the worksheet in front of you, soft footsteps entered your field of hearing. “Y/N?” You looked to your left and you were greeted with the bittersweet arrival of Kyle Broflovski. “Yes, that’s me.” ‘Jesus, conversationalist much?’  He grins, sliding into the other side of the booth across from you. “Hey, aren’t you in my ethics class?” He prompted as he pulled things out of his messenger bag. “Oh, you have Mr. Wilcox too?” You said, mentally high fiving yourself for attempting to stay nonchalant, even though you were very aware of his presence in your class. A few moments of silence went by as Kyle set up his supplies. “It says here we’re doing Calculus two?” You nodded, silently. “Cool. Calculus is actually one of my specialty areas! Now, let’s see the homework you brought.” You two dove into the study session, mostly built up of him explaining things to you as you prayed that how fast your heart was beating wasn’t showing on your face. ‘He looks so pretty when he talks.’ You could probably get a bachelor's degree in 3 weeks if Kyle explained all of the subjects to you. He was like a work of art to behold. The slight bouncing of his curls when he’d move his head, the nearly invisible freckles littering his face, the single dimple that showed when he smiled, there was so much to observe. 

At some point he instructed you to try the rest of the problems by yourself, silently clicking on his laptop whilst you worked. It took you a bit, but once you finished, you put your pencil down and scanned your work. “I, uh, I think I'm done.” He looked up from his laptop with a small smile. “Okay, let me see.” You placed the paper into his outreached hand, observing him as his eyes scanned over the paper. For some reason the pressure felt more intense than it was, making your heartbeat quicken. “Yeah! You did it! The only thing is; for number 4, you forgot to drop the negative. Other than that, you did great!” You smiled at him, face heating softly. “Thanks.” Before you could say anything further, Kyle’s phone began to buzz with an alarm. “Oh! That’s our time! I’ll see you next week Y/n.” He smiled, packing his things, prompting you to do the same.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

unnecessarily specific headcanons for college!AU f1 drivers, part 1

charles

- major: marine biology

- always asks you to save you a seat at the caf and watch his bag then disappears for an hour and a half. when you have to run to your next class you find him on the quad and he’s made four new friends and is playing football and is super apologetic that he forgot his bag. you only forgive him because he’s so charming

- dorm room is a bit of a disaster. sports and pop culture memorabilia everywhere with no particular regard for look or feel, it’s just vibes

- makes music in his free time tho is not above making people listen to his lofi mixes on ableton

- has a t shirt tan from always being out doing fieldwork

- doesn’t make a big deal about studying but is constantly on JSTOR and tops classes rankings all the time. knows the librarians on a first name basis. crosses over with max in a lecture and ends up debating him every lesson about some soil degradation minutiae that runs way beyond class time

- often forgets to call his family, but when they do speak, the conversations last hours

- flirts with anything that moves. knows he can cash in the relationship capital at some point but it’s not malicious, just strategic

- is close friends with Pierre. they constantly speak rapid fire French to each other and gossiping about people in front of them when they think nobody understands

- definitely gets caught by the local paper for climbing the historical bell tower on the last day before graduation

max

- major: geography

- writes a shockingly good first year thesis. so good that he fucks over the bell curve for everyone else and thus alienates most people

- blatantly abuses the open office hours to go argue with the profs about pedantic points from their seminars. they actually fear him and respect him in equal regard

- will talk about the geographies of war and peace in such unnecessary detail that most people at student parties know to avoid him so as not to get maxsplained at the fruit punch

- knows only how to make 5 dishes and keeps making the same few (one of them has potatoes and raisins in it. his dorm mates do not know how to feel).

- is all about efficiency. definitely abuses a 12-in-1 shampoo and this is a detail he will never live down even when everyone graduates. at one point he resorts to eating “prepacked food” until someone (probably his TA Daniel) points out that those are army rations that you normally heat up in like, the desert

- spots a statistical error in one of the papers in year end finals, and correctly challenges their prof wolff on it. prof wolff doesn’t like that one bit.

george

- major: finance

- head of student union and will not shut up about it

- won on a platform that de-emphasised radical politics in favour of “real hard hitting issues that affect our campus welfare” including alumni fundraising

- is in fact very close with the alumni. so much so they find him annoying but will still donate every time he asks them to open their pockets for better decor in the dorms or whatever

- will one day end up running the regional arm of a Fortune 500 investment bank, before he runs for political office because someone told him he couldn’t do it and he wanted to prove a point

- gets too drunk one day and ends up running half-clothed around the quad singing adele very off key. will pay a PR specialist a huge sum when he’s older to have this scrubbed from the internet

- his friend Alex teases him about his swottiness constantly. alex is not part of the student union but somehow everyone on campus knows him anyway and loves him

alex

- major: maths and statistics

- is such a nice dude that the cafeteria workers actually smuggle him secret (and more ethnic) food on the side

- will quietly put his hand up in a lecture and say “respectfully, this is why the combinatronics sequence should be…” and is usually right

- one of the very few members of the overwhelmingly white college campus who can dance, and meets his partner lily at the ballroom dance club or something. has waltzed with George when drunk too. (Alex leads. George is not really happy about it)

- keeps a running excel sheet of who wins the drinking games at the silverstone dorm, where the gang regularly meets

- got in on an aid scholarship and never brags about it. but everyone is aware and knows he is one of the best people ever.

- posts a lot of BeReals about his cat who he misses dearly

I could do more of these but i will stop for now because I don’t know who else wants to read these extremely self-indulgent brainrot thoughts 🤷🏻‍♀️

(i was self indulgent. part 2 here.)

[neet-aspirant]

20–01–2024, Saturday

struck off everything from my to-do list for today! wonderfully productive day :D dropping neet coaching classes and taking up individual private tuitions for phy, chem and maths (2 hours each) was an amazing idea. it saves so much time and anyways coaching mein ghanta kuch padhai nahi hota tha, sirf time waste for 7-8 hours on weekends, so this is much better and also i get much more time for self studying, which is the best!! will also take up a bio private tuition in april when i start class 12

learnt my current psych chapter

made notes for the new psych chapter

started Glycolysis in Respiration

watched a video lecture

practiced neet mcqs from cell cycle and cell division

practiced conic sections

revised structure of atom and practiced it's numericals

revised thermodynamics in physics

[maniacalgenius]

03.17.25

monday recap

🌺 quiet time - read Acts 10

🌺 ate breakfast

🌺 got ready

🧬 went to physics recitation

🧬 went to physics lab

🌺 got lunch, didn't really do any work in my usual MWF spot because lab took up all of my laptop's charge & unfortunately there is not an outlet near my favorite table (iykyk)

🌺 picked up little sandwich from school & drove him to math tutoring (again iykyk)

🍁 went to coffee shop

🧬 did physics tutorial from march 7th

🌺 settled my logging-in issues with my resident portal (it only took 4 times of the person i was emailing back and forth with saying they would "escalate the issue to a colleague to assist" before i received a temporary password to log in with!!!! 10/10 bureaucratic experience 🤩)

📋 responded to the feedback my SIM left on my session planners

🧬 watched video lecture for tomorrow's class in biochem - overview of lipid metabolism (lipids SUCK & i HATE them!!! i want electron transport & oxidative phosphorylation back!!! i mean what?)

🍁 went to bible study. was a very silly time as our unofficial leader was sick. went home halfway through because i was tired of sitting there with all the happy couples whilst feeling so keenly the wounds of spiritual warfare

🧚 drove around in circles for a little bit listening to the same song on repeat

🌺 went home, ate dinner, took a shower, went to bed

💤 9h 28m (got to sleep at 12:45 a.m. mild improvement)

💧 90 oz

👣 5.9k

🎶 ordinary - alex warren

🕰️ 1h 54m

love and prayers

[hooooooooooooboi]

planning out my day, 11/03, tuesday

8:30, wake, exist, put protein bar in bag

9:30-11, bio lecture, will pay attention

11-12 grab coffee at lanc, come home, eat, shit

12-2, stats class, b&b

2-3:30, math hw

8-9, dinner leftovers, white lotus

3:30-5, dynamics, will pay attention

5-6, get some sun on the quad

6-8, math, dynamics, bmes hw (b&b or library)

8-9, leftovers dinner, white lotus ep

9-11, bmes, co-op forms housing stuff (get someone to force your ass to do these)

[kahlanmars]

BAD FEELING part. 17

HELLO.

This chapter is a little filler but I think it's cute how Haymitch and Daisy try so much to stay away from each other... failing every time. Also, I ship Hayffie and I wanted to give a happy ending to Effie here too.

MASTERLIST

17. Candles for the wedding

After a brief moment in which you wanted to go away and never turn back, or you wanted to knock Marjorie’s door and then let her see your rage, or simply to go to Haymitch and talk more to him, knowing he wasn’t going to kick you out of his bed, you make a decision. You are Daisy Pinecone from District 12, and you are not going down for a man. You won’t let a man ruin your good mood. Even if this man is the most wholesome you’ve ever met. Even if the only thing you want is to be in his arms. Even if none of this is right.

Because none of this is right. You know, hell you know Marjorie is not in the wrong. She spent all her life hiding from President Snow because of Haymitch, and now she wants to live with him like he promised her. But that promise was made at sixteen, they were children, that doesn’t count.

And yet, the timing is wrong. He waited for her, for her ghost, for twenty five years, and just when he tries to move on - with you, nonetheless - she reappears. It’s like fate, destiny or whatever is laughing on their face. 

You can’t avoid thinking bad things, like that she is not as beautiful as she was when she was twenty, but then again he is not either and this is a vile thought. You are better than that. Holly taught you better than that.

You go up, clean your face, even use a little of that eyeliner you and Effie stole, go to your class and you manage to keep your smile on and your chin up all the time. You have a great teacher for that. 

Then, you go to the class where you are Miss Pinecone and not just Daisy.

«When there's danger, you should always go to your parents. But if there’s a danger and you are at school, you could go under the tables for protection.» You say, trying to be cheerful. Today is the day they are going to rescue Portia, Annie, Cinna and the others, and of course Peeta. So Coin told you to give the kids a lecture about dangers. That doesn’t scare you at all.

«But, Miss Pinecone, what if I don’t find my mom?» A little boy, Alex, asks you. He is from the seam, and he is seven or eight, not more. He has tons of brothers, like four or five. He is adorable, very skilled in maths. 

«I think you could come to me.» You don’t think this through, but what can you say? If he doesn’t find his family you want him to come to you, a trusted person, instead of a stranger.

«Thank you, Miss Pinecone.»

You manage to keep the charade until dinner. It’s easier with the kids, the little ones always try to make you see that and tell you this, and the hours flow. The older ones are eager to learn.

But now that you are alone, you can’t help but be sad in the cafeteria, surrounded by your friends except for Effie, who waits for Portia, and Finnick, who waits for Annie. That gives your group freedom to talk.

«I can’t believe him. He left you!» Lora is shocked, her wide eyes bright open. «For an old woman!»

«Well she is not old, she’s 41.» You protest, but then you remember Lora is nineteen. Compared to her you are an older woman.

«You are not going to pout all the time, right?» Perla is more direct. You love her, but she reminds you of a younger Johanna Mason, a victor from years ago who is now part of the rebellion. Perla is kinder, but she doesn’t hold back answers. 

«I’m not pouting.» You protest.

«Yes you are. There are parties, you know? The guards invited us sometimes, we should go.» Yes, you are. You can’t help it. He is not even there at the moment, probably in a room with Katniss waiting for Peeta. Or he is with her. 

You can’t live thinking he is with her every moment. 

«There are more important things, right? I’m worried about Portia. I really care for her. And for Peeta. And Cinna.» You desperately don’t want to talk about it. They seem to understand that, because they take the bait to change the subject.

«Do you think Finnick and Annie will get married when she is rescued?» Lora asks. You have to admit Finnick Odair has been a crush in your teenage years, for all of you. Thinking of him as a married man, even now that he is real, is weird. But he and Annie are so cute, he always talks about her like she is the moon and he couldn’t live without her, he almost didn’t want to live anymore when he found out she had been captured. They had to give him a rope to make knots out of it, to calm him down, but a very, very small rope. 

«That’s what he promised.»

You are about to answer Perla when a voice comes from the other room.

«They are coming!»

You change looks, because you don’t know if you are allowed in the first room, but you want to hug Portia so you run. If you are not allowed, someone will stop you, but that doesn’t happen.

They don’t have a quarantine, you had it because your group was the first after a long time in District 13, but now they think you are safe. So everybody is free to hug everybody, and they are all crying. 

You come into the infirmary room and you see Finnick who’s holding Annie like she could disappear in a moment, and Effie in Portia’s arms. 

«Portia!» You run into her and you let her hug you tight. «You are here!»

She just nods. She is not her best self, but she was probably tortured (now that you think about it, you shouldn’t have run into her, maybe you scared her) but she is here now, she can get better. You’ve never seen her without her Capitol fuss. She doesn’t have her blonde wig, and her hair is shaved. She is thinner than before, and she has bags under her eyes. It’s clear something bad happened in the city. 

Katniss is there, she is holding Cinna, but she is not happy. Cinna is in the same situation as Portia and Annie, and Haymitch, close to her, seems pissed off.

«What happened?» You dare to ask, conscious he wouldn’t scream at you. 

«Joanna Mason, Mags and Peeta are still in the Capitol.» 

Fuck. 

The mission was for everybody, but mostly for Peeta. He is the other side of the Mockingjay, the unfortunate lover, the lover boy. People like him more than Katniss. He is useful for the revolution.

But most importantly, Katniss loves him. Maybe she doesn’t know it, maybe she also loves Gale, but the look in her eyes at this moment proves that. 

«Will they come back for them?» You whisper to your mentor, but you don’t want Katniss to hear that. He shrugs and he looks at you, he is furious.

«If I have a say in the matter, yes.» 

He goes out of the room, and you follow him in the corridor and stop him with a hand on his wrist. You have to be careful. He could have reacted in a very bad way, you don’t stop him like that, you know better. But he must have sensed you, because he doesn’t push you against the wall or strangle you like you are an enemy.

«I’m sorry.» You whisper again. 

Peeta is like a son to him. Everyone knows he and Katniss are really similar, they have the same mind, same origins, same attitude. But they care for Peeta. Peeta is cunning, smart, intelligent, but also kind, generous, and has a good heart. With the family he has - he had, you have to remember - Haymitch has become a father figure in the last year. He didn’t want to get attached, you are sure of it, but once again he failed in that.

He sighs. He is calculating, you see his brain fuming. You bet he is telling himself he can’t be vulnerable with you, not anymore. 

«Just a minute.» You help him, and you put your arms around his chest. He relaxes a little against your touch. 

«He is seventeen.» He reminds you. «Seventeen, and he is being tortured. They are torturing him. It is my fault.» His voice is strong and still, but you sense he is desperate.

«How is it your fault?» You lift your eyes up to watch him better. «It’s the war, Haymitch. You are doing your best to keep them alive.»

«’M doing a hell of a good job.» He is shaking now, of course he wants a drink to cope with his guilt. They are criminals, this is not a way to cure ad addiction, but maybe there’s a good side of that. Maybe he is rid of his addiction. 

«You are. Look at all this, it’s mostly thanks to you. And Cinna, and Plutarch, but the Mockingjay is here because of you. Katniss is safe because of you. And Peeta will be too.» You stroke his hair. «I am so, so sorry. But I didn’t give up on you. You are still their mentor. You saved them.»

You feel stupid, you can only say that you are sorry. A week ago you would have kissed away his doubts, but now it’s not yours to kiss. Now Marjorie can handle that, you don’t have any right. 

«Don’t be sorry.» He murmurs and instead of letting you go he tightens the grip. «Are you okay? Portia is back.»

«Yes.» You flash a smile to him, he loves Portia too. «I’m good, I was worried for her. Felt guilty too.»

«Look at us, covered in guilt.» He tries to laugh, to lighten the moment. «I must admit it looks better on you.»

You blush. You only want to kiss him, but he is not yours to kiss anymore. He is not yours anymore. «Everything looks better on me.»

«I really can’t argue with that.» His eyes are on your lips. 

At this point you are supposed to kiss, this is what you do, but you can’t right now, not after Marjorie. «You should go back. Katniss needs you.» 

«Yes. Katniss needs me.» He gives you a kiss on the cheek, his lips lingering a little too long on your face to be an incident. «Thank you, Sweetheart. I really needed that.»

«That’s what friends are for.»   

You stay in the corridor, alone, until he disappears. 

Turns out Finnick really asked Annie to marry him as soon as she was saved, and now you have a wedding to prepare. They are absolutely lovebirds, Finnick walks on air and he has a grin that never leaves him. Annie is haunted by the tortures and her past, but she is cooed by Effie and Portia, and she seems content most of the time, when she doesn’t cry for Mags. You never met Mags, but on television she looks like a grandmother, sweet and tender, and you know she raised Finnick and Annie. They decided not to wait for her, but they will have a traditional ceremony with her when she will be rescued.

You don’t know what the ceremony in District Four is about, but it must be their version of the Toasting. In your District the toasting is the real marriage ritual, when the bride and the groom make a fire together and toast a piece of bread. You really hope for them it’s not a toasting ceremony because you have heard his bread is made of seaweed and very, very salty.

The wedding preparation is actually very cute. You and Effie, with the help of Perla and Laura and other people from District 13, decorate the main room with flowers and ribbons, as well as nets and corals you manage to find in the library. It’s still grey, but a little less grey and it’s absolutely a win. 

«I’ll dress Annie, can you stay here?» Effie asks you, and you nod. You actually like to decorate. It takes your mind off of things. But what you really want is to put candles in the higher shelves of the main room, so when she walks through the room she will be followed by lights. 

You put the candles up with the help of a staircase. Then you just have to light them up. When you are about to reach the top, though, your feet slip and you go down. 

You survived the Hunger Games and a revolution just to hit your head and die trying to decorate a cafeteria.

«Dear heavens!» You think you’ll get hurt, badly, but you realise you didn’t touch the ground, someone saved you. 

And who could have been. Of course it’s him. How the fuck it’s him it’s a mystery. 

«Are you following me or something?» You sough, still shaken by the fall. You risked it. 

«Thanks, Haymitch, you catched me.» He mocks you with a grin that is not supposed to be here, since he saved you from death or at least a big injury. Again. 

«…Thanks. But were you following me?» You know you should go back to your own feet, but you are a weak girl and it’s comforting to be in his arms, bridal style. And you pretend to yourself you didn’t see Marjorie eyeing you from the other side of the room.

«A little. I was looking for you, I wanted to borrow you a book, and then I saw you lighting candles in the most dangerous position ever invented and… I know your level of balance. It’s none.» You scoff at the comment, but then you hear again the main word of the sentence: books. 

«A book? Yes!» You are too excited, it’s not proper. Not anymore. «I mean, that's thoughtful… thought?» A thoughtful thought. And you are a teacher. No wonder you didn’t have a licence before the war. 

«Yeah I mean, it’s mine and you didn’t steal it so maybe you won’t like it.»

«It happened once or twice…» You pout. Just because he loved to kiss away your pout and if you have to go down bad then he must too. But when his eyes linger too much you are the one who snaps him out of his misery. «So? The book?»

«The book, yes. It’s about a girl who goes to work for a guy as a maid and the guy has secrets in the attic. It’s ancient.» He quickly explains. 

«Is he a bit of a dick?» You challenge him.

«Kinda, yeah.»

«Some things never change…» You smile, proud of your little joke. «What’s the name of the book?»

«Jane Eyre.» 

«I studied that at school. I think I’ll like it, thanks.» Could you give him a little kiss on the cheek? Probably not. Especially when you are still in his arms, it’s not quite friends' behaviour. But you still do it because Inez - Marjorie - has not been right to you. «How come we are underground and you still smell like the woods?» You half murmur to yourself, but he smirks.

«It’s a talent. I'll give it to you at the wedding?»

«I can't, they allow us to have actual dresses at the wedding!» You can't conceal your excitement. You really want to take off the grey jumpsuit. You don’t have a dress, but you eyed some curtains that nobody will miss. 

«Tomorrow then.» He offers.

«Tomorrow it is. Haymitch, can you… let me go?» You are sure you are starting to make a scene, wrapped in a hug in the middle of the cafeteria after the big scandal and the “break up”. 

«Yeah, of course.» He lets you go and you practically disappear in front of him not to deal with the consequences of your thoughts. He does the same. It would be comical if you didn’t have your heart broken.

You go to your room to sew the dress for the wedding, and you open the door without any thinking, just to be welcomed with a gasp.

Effie Trinket and Portia… you don’t know Portia’s surname, all you know is that they are wrapped in a hug and they are kissing. Effie is kissing Portia. Portia is kissing Effie. None of it makes sense.

Effie is the one who was upset finding out about you and Dianna. She was shocked, like she never occurred a girl could love another girl. You know in the Capitol they didn’t discuss these sort of things, like in the District. 

On the other hand, if someone deserves love is Effie Trinket. She hates District Thirteen, everybody here is stupid and hates her, so she needs allies. Friends. Lovers. Everything she wants. She’s one of the kindest people alive. You really love her.  

«I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!» You yell and you close the door behind you, just to re-open it slower. You don’t know what to do, you can’t go in and you can’t go out. «Do you want me to leave?» You ask. 

«Stay, darling girl.» Effie speaks after a while. Her voice is filled with awkwardness, and you want to tell her that everything is fine but you don’t know how to do it without worsening the situation. «Well…»

You enter. They are on Effie’s bed, and they look like teenagers caught in the moment. They are so cute.

«You two are in love?» You ask, trying to contain your excitement. You know you are being improper and you are probably embarrassing them, but you are so happy for them, so happy for Effie. Oh dear heaven, what if it was just an experiment? What if Effie is in love and Portia is not? You didn’t think before talking.

«No, I mean… it was kinda the first time, so…» They share a look. Maybe they are not in love yet, but they have chemistry.

«So I blocked it? I’m so sorry! I’ll go!» 

«No! I think we could go to…» Portia dismisses it. She talks slower than before the revolution, and she always seems a little puzzled, but she is better now and you think she’s improving.

«To my room! I think we can go to my room.» She finishes it.

«No, I’ll go!» You protest, but Effie pinches your shoulder.

«No, please. Let us go.»

«…Ok.» You surrender. 

You go back to your sewing, wondering what the hell just happened.

TAG LIST: @crimsonincursive

if you want to be added in the taglist just ask!

[mrhaitch]

hello! hope you and your family are doing amazing :) i had some questions for you, if you don’t mind answering.

so i’m currently in my 3rd year of college, majoring in history and getting a minor in education with plans to becoming a high school teacher. things might be different since i live in the US and you live in the UK, but i’m also curious on how teaching is different in the UK. despite the country differences, i’m also curious to hear from someone with a career in teaching.

here’s what my questions are:

1. how did you go about teaching? did you do anything like volunteering at schools or being a substitute teacher in addition to college classes or getting credentials? if so, how’d it go and would you recommend it?

2. did you ever consider teaching elementary, middle school or high school? was it always your plan to teach at a university? (i dunno what the school levels are called in the UK 😭)

3. what are some things you enjoy and dislike about being a professor? what are some things you would like to change if any?

4. are there any tips you can share?

my bad for the load of questions but if you can answer them it’s greatly appreciated :)

- from a local broke history loving college student 🙂‍↕️

1. I did some volunteering at local schools, then worked with a charity that placed PHD students at schools in deprived areas, and also shadowed other lecturers to get experience. I would recommend all of it except for the charity - but that's more for the specific charity I worked for as they often threw me to the wolves with minimal support.

2. So for us it goes primary (4-11), secondary (11-16), and then sixth form/college (16-18) before university. I've previously considered all levels of teaching, except primary - and yes lecturing has always been my goal, for as long as I've had a goal.

3. Unfortunately I'm no longer teaching at a university level (the job market is dire here, but that's another story). I'm currently teaching what I think the US calls remedial English and Maths to students in care.

The things I liked: the students, my department, opportunities to explore and unpack ideas with a passionate audience, and random conversations in the hallway with colleagues that would blow my mind.

Things I disliked: the relatively low pay considering the level of specialisation required, precarious contracts (12 months average, with new contracts offered in place of renewals so no benefits for length of service), and generally being treated like scum/part of an elaborate left wing conspiracy by the press and public.

4. Find your style. Some people can do the stand-up comic thing, others can do the happy clappy camp counselor thing. For me I had to spend a lot of time finding a style of teaching that aligned with my own personality, felt honest, and engaged my students. As such I developed a collaborative approach, where the students directed much of the discussion and I discarded whatever authority they foisted upon me at the very start. Sprinkle in some deliberately awful jokes and a heavy dose of sarcasm and that's me.

Other than that I'd say support your colleagues, give your students your best even when you don't feel it, and take breaks when you can.

[imekitty]

Star Error XV

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14

Star investigates Danny’s glowing freckles.

-----

When the final bell rang, Fenton was quick to leave the classroom with Foley and Manson. Star watched him leave before turning to her own friends.

"So when did Fenton come back to class?" she asked.

"Huh?" Kwan cocked his head.

"When did he come back to class when?" asked Dash. "Today?"

"Yes, today!" snapped Star. "He went out to use the restroom, remember? And then the ghost alarm went off."

Paulina sighed glumly. "The ghost didn't even attack us. No chance for the ghost boy to come save me."

"So when did Fenton come back?" asked Star again. "Was it like right before I came back? Or a few minutes? Longer?"

"I don't know," said Dash. "I didn't even see him come back in."

"How did you not see him?" whined Star.

"Look, I don't pay attention to Fenton every second of the day," said Dash. "I'm not in love with him like you are."

Star blushed. "I am not—"

"He's all you ever talk about now," said Dash with a sneer.

The A-Listers began to gather their things and stand. Star watched them, still baffled.

"You really don't remember when he came back in?" she asked, rising to her feet and scooping her things into her arms.

"He was just kind of here again," said Kwan.

"Yes, the ghost alarm went off and Lancer started his lecture again and then…" Paulina puckered her lips in thought. "I remember you coming back in. That's all."

"Fenton must've come back in when the ghost alarm was going off and we were all too distracted to notice," said Kwan with a shrug.

"Come on, I'm starving," said Dash, leading the way out of the classroom. "I gotta eat something before practice."

"Yeah, don't want you passing out on the field again," laughed Kwan.

Dash shoved him. "Shut up, I didn't pass out. I just tripped."

"And didn't get up for a whole minute."

"It was not that long!"

Star trailed behind the other A-Listers as they entered the hallway, their chattering getting lost in the cacophony of all the other voices as students scurried past, laughing and shouting and gossiping. As she opened her locker and took out her backpack, she could see Fenton down the hall at his own locker. He caught her eye and smiled.

Star narrowed her eyes as she studied him hard. Fenton's attention was quickly pulled away by his friends, and then he shut his locker and disappeared around a corner.

Fenton and Phantom were at least somewhat close to each other, that much she knew for sure now.

But how close?

In the tutoring room, she took a seat and looked over the list of students signed up for math help that afternoon. But as she tried to concentrate on helping students with quadratic formulas and coordinate planes and differential equations, she found that her mind just kept turning back to Fenton and Phantom.

What do you really think about Danny Fenton?

She had thought it was a strange question for Phantom to ask in the moment, but it seemed even more peculiar now. Was it some kind of wingman routine? Did Fenton ask Phantom to ask her what she thought of him? But how did Fenton know that she and Phantom were going to meet? Was it really just a coincidence?

It had to be, yes. Because it made much more sense than the alternative.

Fenton and Phantom…

They couldn't possibly be the same person. That made absolutely no sense.

"Did I do it right?" asked Gina, the girl Star was tutoring.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Star blinked and looked over the problem Gina was working on, then quickly shook her head. "Oh, wait, no, no. This is all wrong. Sorry, I'm a little distracted…"

She took an eraser and rubbed out Gina's mistakes, almost all of her penciled calculations. Gina looked at the mostly empty space and sighed.

"You had the right idea," said Star. "Just, uh, just try again."

Star tapped the empty space a couple times with her manicured index finger. Gina sighed again and started a new attempt to solve the problem. Star tried to focus on the movements of Gina's pencil, the numbers being written, but her mind would not stop wandering.

"So, um…" Star hesitated, clearing her throat to stall a moment. "Just out of curiosity, um… What would you do if you thought the ghost kid was a student at our school?"

Gina looked up from her paper, her eyes becoming quite round. "The ghost kid? As in Danny Phantom?" She grinned, somewhat dreamily. "I'd definitely try to get his autograph. And maybe his phone number. I mean, if he has a phone number." She scrunched her mouth. "Do ghosts have cell phones?"

Star glanced down at her phone in her lap as she thought about the times she had seen Fenton using his own phone.

"Maybe," she murmured.

…

The next day, Star watched Fenton closely, keeping her distance as she tried to covertly follow him as much as she could.

But of course, all of the A-Listers noticed.

"You're really taking this breakup hard, aren't you?" asked Dash with a laugh.

"We did not—we were never—" Star groaned and gave up as she followed the group to their next class.

"When you and I broke up, it was easy," said Kwan. "You must really like Fenton to be this hung up on him."

"I am not—"

"I think he might still like you, too," said Paulina. "He's looking this way!"

Star blushed and turned her face just a little to find Fenton indeed looking at her. Their eyes met for a small moment before Manson took Fenton by the arm and pulled him away down the hall.

"You really are out of his league, Star," said Kwan. "But hey, it's your life."

Star was about to turn her face away from Fenton when she saw him stumbling as he tried to keep up with Manson's pace. He clutched his right side, hobbling a few steps before righting himself and walking straight.

Star blinked several times, trying to remember Phantom's wound from the day before. Which side was it?

She remembered the library, the monster ghost baring its claws on one hand and taking a swipe at Phantom. The monster's claws tore through Phantom's suit and there was ectoplasm bleeding out, oozing between Phantom's gloved fingers as he pressed a hand to his side.

His right side.

Star looked over at Fenton again, who was still walking straight but she saw him clutching his right side, yes, definitely his right side.

It's your life, Kwan had said.

But at this moment, Star was far more interested in Fenton's life.

Part 16

[kiyomi-86]

ocean hcs (before the cyclone)

- had super organized school supplies, like tabs in the binders and color coded folders (math is blue, argue with the wall 💕)

- whenever ANYONE (could be her friends doesn't matter) tries to talk to her while the teacher is lecturing she will shush them

- the first person to join the choir/help set things up, she didn't do it because she was passionate she did it to be "well rounded and have hobbies to get into college"

- studies so much in hopes to go to some fancy university and finally have her parents notice her even though that will never happen.

- used to drink and smoke at 11-12 before realizing she shouldn't and is now repulsed by anything like it, tries to be the polar opposite of her parents

- pours the milk before cereal

- she lives her life solely to be successful. if she didn't end up successful she didn't want to end up anywhere else.

- didn't care about not having friends, but started caring when people bullied her, but she's a snitch so the bullying stopped quickly.

- would HATEEEE brainrot

- favorite snack is the like plain yellow bag lays potato chips

- doesn't like dogs at all. she thinks they're super messy, likes cats but cats don't like her. has to keep a 10ft distance from the Ricky Potts household

- wakes up at 5am ON THE NOSE almost every day even weekends

- takes extra classes/AP classes to raise her GPA as high as possible

- good grade = 99-100

study more = 96-98

bad grade basically failing = below 95

- used to be EXTREMELY tone deaf but worked on music so much she has relative pitch

- was in theater in middle school (not important roles though, like ocean oconnel rosenberg the random tree LMAO)

that's it 😚💕

[pv1isalsoimportant]

4-12-2024

I've just got home and I'm completely dead so no more math today I guess. I wanted to look at some homework problems but it is what it is. Today's lectures were exciting af tho.

Logic in computer science (lecture, 1.5h) - finished basics of lambda calculus, started arithmetic. I love arithmetic and the way certain fragments of arithmetic formalizes computation (bounded arithmetic, my beloved) so this should be fun. Also Logicomics mentioned!

Selected topics from set theory (lecture, 1.5h) - started square and reflecting stationary sets.

(The picture above is from the logic in computer science class.)

[youmenotyummy]

Converse High – P.SH [박성훈] {CH. 14}

Synopsis: Shin Y/N was given the task to deliver her best friend's love letter to the shoe locker of Park Sunghan, the president of the broadcasting club. It just so happened to be that Park Sunghan's shoe box is situated right next to the shoe box of Park Sunghoon, a boy whose name had a one-syllable difference.

MONDAY 12:33 p.m. — Classroom 2-B, Decelis Academy

Chaewon shifted her eyes back and forth between Y/N and Sunghoon, inspecting both of their faces in attempt to unveil the hidden reason for the lovey-dovey aura they were both emitting— she shook her head; she was starting to sound like Eunchae.

There was no doubt that the two were pining over each other. Yes, today was the first time Sunghoon had come over to sit with them during lunch, but Chaewon immediately noticed Y/N's improved mood compared to her gloomy, uninterested self during their math lecture prior to lunch. And a very important thing to take notice of, Chaewon thought, was how quick it was for her best friend to become comfortable with the rugby star.

In Sunoo's eyes, Sunghoon had seemed different. The boy who did his best to avoid any being of the opposite sex willingly ran walked across campus to just to spend time with a girl– no, Y/N. And he was smiling! And laughing! And holding eye contact with her for more than five seconds! Sunoo would not have seen this day coming.

He smiled as he glanced between the two. His eyes then met with Chaewon who stared back at him. The two shared a knowing look, and bursted out into a fit of giggles.

"Was me tripping over the ball on the field today that funny?" Y/N glared at her friends.

"Top tier comedy." Sunoo covered up for himself and Chaewon. If he were to tell Y/N the real reason for their giggling fit, he would be met with a strong response of denial from both parties.

"Aaanyways," Y/N stretched out. "Speaking of tripping on the field, I was thinking of baking something for the rugby team to wish you guys good luck for the next game."

"Why did you associate us with tripping on the field?"

"And why are you interested in sports all of a sudden?" Y/N kicked Chaewon's leg under their conjoined desks as an answer to her question.

"Because the film club's room looks out onto the field, and I just happened to be by the window when I saw you trip over air during practice."

Sunghoon choked on his yogurt drink and quickly retorted, "Did not!"

"Yes you did!" Sunghoon pressed his index finger into Y/N's forehead and pushed her head back.

"If I knew you two were gonna flirt all lunch, I would have went to the cafeteria with Jungwon instead." Sunoo rolled his eyes in petty disgust.

"We are not flirting!" Ah, there it is. The simultaneous protest from both of them.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Sunoo leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, swinging his leg over the other.

"Oh! Lunch is almost over. I should get going." Sunghoon stood up from the desk he occupied and collected his trash. "Is it okay if I come back again tomorrow?"

"Of course!" A quick response from Y/N.

"Make sure to bring Jay or someone else with you, too."

"Why?"

"So I have someone to distract me from you two being nauseatingly sweet to each other."

"Maybe I should invite someone too." Chaewon follows along. Y/N shoots her an 'are you serious' face while separating the four desks that they pushed together for their lunch table. Y/N then looked at Sunghoon and caught his attention by calling his name out.

"Yes?" he yelped with a slight shoulder jump. Sunoo failed to hold in his little spurt of laughter.

"Do you prefer chocolate or vanilla?"

"Oh! Uh, I prefer vanilla, but I like them both."

"Great." she smiled. Sunghoon stared for a second before breaking into a soft smile himself. The moment was ruined because of the fake gags heard next to them. Sunghoon shot an annoyed glance at Sunoo before making his way towards the door. He waved at Y/N before taking off in the direction of his next class.

"They're not even a couple yet, and I'm already tired of them." Sunoo whispers to Chaewon. She laughs quietly before agreeing with the nod of her head.

MONDAY 3:45 p.m. — Film Club Room, Decelis Academy

Y/N lightly jumped in place to hype herself up. She looked down at the familiar pink envelope and glossy heart sticker on the tab. This was another one of Chaewon's letters, her third delivery. She was caught the last two times, so this time Y/N was extra cautious.

"Okay, Y/N, third time's a charm. Channel your inner James Bond." She breathed deeply before peeping her head out of the sliding door. None of the other girls were in the room yet, as they were busy retrieving different props and helping Danielle carry her fabrics, costume WIPs and other miscellaneous things from around the school. Chaewon, who had been with Y/N prior to being left alone, ventured off to find their club supervisor.

Y/N stepped out of the classroom and sneakily but speedily made her way to the shoe lockers. She glanced around to make sure nobody was in close proximity. She walked backwards towards Sunghan's locker, still keeping a lookout for people. There shouldn't be too many people in the halls; the bell had rung fifteen minutes ago, and those who had stayed behind were in their respective classrooms for club activities, including the rugby team who occupied the field.

Y/N reached locker #19 and prepared herself to slip the letter in. Before continuing on with her mission, Y/N's eyes landed on locker #20: 'Park Sunghoon 박성훈' was engraved on a thin metal plate that was slipped into the locker's name slot. She felt a small smile forming on her face as her loving eyes lingered on his name.

She rubbed her fingers over the smooth surface of the letter in her hands and immediately snapped out of her trance. Y/N slipped the letter into the locker and dusted her hands off as if she was done completing a hard task.

"Y/N?" A voice called out. There had only been one person who caught her the last two times she was on delivery duty. Her main objective–besides helping Chaewon get a partner–was to not get caught in the act... but maybe getting caught wasn't so bad if he was the one showing up every time.

"Oh! Sung–" Y/N paused when her eyes landed on the boy's face. "–han?" She then felt a wave of embarrassment crawl up her face. She widened her eyes in terror; Sunghan stared back at her, frozen in his spot.

"This isn't what it looks like! I'm just the messenger, I swear!" Y/N dashed past him. Déjà vu, much? Except this time, she was stopped. Not with physical force, but with three words.

"I like you!" Y/N's chest heaved up and down with her heavy breaths. She cautiously turned her head and made eye contact with the boy. As if one time wasn't enough, Sunghan repeated himself. "I like you." Yeah, no, she couldn't handle this. Y/N apologized to him telepathically before continuing to run towards safety (the film club room).

"Y/N! Wait!"

If Sakura were here to witness what just happened, she would have let Y/N know that this was not a pro gamer move at all.

Y/N burst through the door, and the room that was once empty was suddenly filled with all of her club members.

"Oh! Where were you?" Y/N doesn't respond to Danielle and grabs her bag instead, running towards the room's open window.

"Sorry girls, I gotta run home! I'm gonna, uh, crap my pants! Yeah! Bye!" Y/N swung her legs over the window and jumped out, thanking the school's office for assigning them a ground-level classroom for their club.

"Been there, done that."

"Eunchae??"

"Oh! There's Chaewon!" Danielle announced. "Where were you? Were you with Y/N?"

"Huh? Oh, I was just looking for our supervisor. I found her in the office."

"But you came from the left? I thought the office was just straight down from this room."

"Yeah, I just took a detour."

"Where to?"

"Nowhere special. Just stopped by the shoe lockers."

Extra #13! Peeking into Chaewon's Twitter...📲🐦

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