#Drawing on math notes again lol

[tinyperson00]

drawing in math class ✨

Finished work early and was also bored of just sitting there so I decided to draw Akira since I haven't given her much lately lol

and definitely not also because shes my only OC I actually memorized the design 💀

I have basically come up with my own Chibi style now as well and Im obsessed with drawing characters that way

[rowanoftheunknown]

“I hope I’ll find all the pieces of my mind that fell out of my head over all those years, and that I’ll be able to put myself together again. I hope the echoes of pain will fade, and memories of sorrow will die, and that you’ll visit me here some day…”

“And I hope you have a happy ending of your own.”

[saturn-sends-hugs]

posting this old echo doodle from my math notes cause @inkstainedhandswithrings inspired me <3

i just think he deserves to laugh more :)

[bueckets]

The Prophecy | Part 1

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Parts: Part One (you're here) | Two

Description: They call her The Prophecy—basketball’s impossible phenomenon, rewriting what it means to be perfect on the court. With a near-flawless shooting record and a mind just as sharp in aerospace engineering as it is in breaking down defenses, her name sparks awe, envy, and relentless scrutiny. But perfection has its cost.

But even legends have weak spots. When a high-stakes matchup against LSU draws the attention of Paige Bueckers—the golden face of college basketball—The Prophecy’s flawless world starts to crack. On the court, they’re rivals, locked in a battle for supremacy. Off the court, late-night texts and shared moments blur the lines between competition and something much harder to define.

WC: 11.9k

Authors Notes: Slow Burn, Competitors to Lovers, SLOW, I'm heavy into world building so expect a lot of story, SMUT in next chapter. I've like proof read 70% there's already 40k words written and I've changed shit up like 40 times by now lol

They say there are two kinds of impossibilities in basketball: the ones you laugh at, and the ones that make you hold your breath. Your entire career has been about the second kind.

The numbers shouldn't exist: 847 shots attempted in college. Two misses. A percentage that makes statisticians check their math and then check it again. The first miss was a seventy-footer your freshman year that hit the rim so perfectly the sound echoed through the arena like a bell. The second? Sophomore year, caught an elbow to the face that had blood streaming down your jersey—the shot still almost went in.

Two misses in three years. They call you The Prophecy because watching you miss is like seeing a meteor strike, so rare that people mark their calendars by it.

Every sports network has tried to explain you. ESPN did a special called "The Prophecy: Breaking Down Basketball's Perfect Player." Sports Illustrated put you on the cover: "The Future Came Early." The New York Times ran a feature: "Harvard's Double Threat: Engineering the Perfect Game." They all tried to capture what makes you different. None quite managed it.

Because how do you explain someone who turned down every basketball powerhouse in the country—UConn, Stanford, South Carolina—to study Aerospace Engineering at Harvard? How do you rationalize someone who spends mornings in advanced fluid dynamics classes and afternoons making impossible shots look like a simple routine?

Your teammates get it, though. They've nicknamed you "Rocket”— partly for your major, partly for how you launch yourself through defenses. You're the heart of a Harvard team that's won three straight championships, turning the Ivy League school into a basketball dynasty that no one saw coming.

But that legacy isn't built on game days alone. It’s forged in moments like these: the hum of anticipation, the camaraderie, the banter that cuts through the tension as the team gets ready to take the court.

They say the silence before a storm is the loudest. But whoever said that never sat in Harvard's women's basketball locker room before a big game.

"I swear to god, if you try to explain zone defense using thermodynamics one more time—" Sierra launches a rolled-up sock across the room that you catch without looking up from your pre-game ritual: left shoe, right shoe, double-knot both, check laces twice.

"That was ONE time," you protest, but Maria's already cackling.

"One time? Girl, last week you tried to break down UNC's press using some dynamic—“

"And it WORKED, didn't it?"

The locker room erupts in laughter, the kind of easy joy that only comes from three years of championships, late-night practices, and inside jokes that no one else would understand. Taylor's already started your pregame handshake sequence; each title has added new moves until it's practically a full choreographed dance. 

"Speaking of Carolina," Jasmine pipes up while adjusting her headband, "did y'all see their point guard tried to claim she's almost as accurate as you?”

"How'd that work out for her?" Sierra grins.

"Shot 3-for-15 against Duke." Taylor shakes her head. "Meanwhile, our girl over here—"

"845 for 847," the team chants in unison, then breaks into laughter again.

You roll your eyes but can't hide your smile. 

"Yo, check this out though," Sierra's scrolling through her phone. "LSU's talking mad shit on Twitter. Their center says she's gonna 'expose the myth’ tonight."

Tonight's game against LSU has been circled on calendars since the schedule dropped. Defending national champions versus the team that's rewriting what's possible in college basketball. 

The banter continues as everyone goes through their pregame routines. Maria's got her headphones in, mouthing the same Drake lyrics she's been using since freshman year. Taylor's meticulously re-taping her ankles for the third time. Jasmine's practicing her crossover in front of her locker, adding a little extra flair each time.

That's when Coach Matthews steps in, game face already set. The room doesn't exactly go quiet- this team's never been good at that, but the energy shifts— focuses.

"Ladies," she begins, but Sierra can't help herself.

"We know, we know, sold out crowd, national TV, time to show them why they call us the best team in the country."

The locker room buzzes with the easy confidence of a team that knows what they're capable of. You've all been together three years, grown from underdogs to unstoppable. 

Coach tries to look stern but fails. "I see three rings have made you cocky."

"Nah, Coach," Jasmine grins. "We were cocky before the rings. Now we’ve just proven that we were right all along.” 

The team cracks up again, but you catch something in Coach's expression, a mix of pride and concern. Her eyes find yours across the room. You know what she's thinking: LSU's not here just to play basketball. They're here to make a statement. To prove that Harvard's dynasty, your perfect record, all of it, is just smoke and mirrors.

You peek out at the arena as you head to warm-ups. Every seat filled, signs everywhere:

"The Prophecy Has Spoken: Harvard by 20"

"845/847 ≈ Perfection"

"Future WNBA GOAT"

"Rocket Science + Basketball = 🐐"

The student section erupts with enough thunder that you’d think there was an earthquake outside as you step onto the court. Three years, and the roar still hits different every time. Your teammates spread out for warm-ups, but you can feel every eye in the arena tracking your movement.

"Remember freshman year?" Sierra bumps your shoulder as you start stretching. "When you were still trying to convince everyone you were just 'pretty good' at basketball?"

You laugh, remembering that first practice. You'd shown up in glasses and a Harvard Engineering t-shirt, trying to downplay the high school highlights that had ESPN calling you the next Sue Bird. Then you went 50-for-50 in shooting drills.

"Pretty good," Taylor mimics, feeding you the ball. "Meanwhile Sports Center had a ticker counting your made shots."

The ball feels alive in your hands as you start your warm-up routine. Crossover, behind the back, step-back three. Swish. The Harvard crowd counts each made shot, a tradition that started your freshman year. They're at "thirty-seven" when a murmur ripples through the stands like a shift in the air pressure.

That's when you see them.

The entire UConn women's team, filing into their seats behind your bench. Their presence is magnetic, commanding, like the world has suddenly shifted to center on them. Your breath catches for just a moment, but you keep moving. Eyes forward, muscles loose. Don’t look. Don’t look.

Your gaze flickers up, and that’s when it happens. Paige Bueckers—UConn’s golden child, the face of their dynasty—locks eyes with you. The briefest of seconds, but it feels like a spotlight on your skin. She's not just watching; she's studying. Calculating.

Without breaking stride, you add a little extra spin to your next move. A crossover that’s sharp enough to slice, a step-back three so effortless it’s almost insulting. Swish.

"Showing off for UConn?" Maria teases, but her voice feels distant, barely cutting through the thrum in your chest. You don’t answer. The crowd is at "forty-two" now, and so is Paige. You can feel her counting.

"Please," you roll your eyes, draining another three. "They're the ones who showed up to our house."

The arena's practically vibrating now. LSU's warming up on the other end, trying to look unbothered. Their coach keeps glancing your way, everyone knows their game plan will revolve around stopping you. Good luck with that.

"Rocket!" Jasmine calls out. "Give them the space shot!"

It's another team tradition. End of warm-ups, you launch one from near half-court, high enough to clear the International Space Station. The crowd holds its breath as the ball arcs through the air—

Bucket.

The place goes absolutely nuclear. Even some LSU players stop to watch the replay on the jumbotron. You don't celebrate, just turn and jog back to the bench, but you catch Paige Bueckers leaning forward in her seat. Yeah, she felt that one, too.

In the huddle, Coach Matthews keeps it simple. "They're going to try to get physical. They're going to try to get in your heads. But what do we do?"

"Let the scoreboard talk!" the team responds in unison.

You look around the circle—these girls who've become family. Sierra, who's never met a defensive assignment she couldn't lock down. Maria, whose no-look passes seem telepathic. Taylor, who crashes boards like gravity's just a suggestion. Jasmine, whose trash talk is almost as legendary as her three-point shooting.

The starting lineups are announced. LSU's players get scattered applause, but when they call your name, the sound is deafening. "At guard, a junior from Boston, Massachusetts, averaging 32.5 points per game, shooting 99.8% from the field—The Prophecy!"

You high-five down the bench, each teammate adding their own flourish to the routine. The crowd's chanting now:

"M-V-P! M-V-P!"

But you're already in game mode, that familiar calm settling over you. You can feel Uconn’s members watching from the stands, feel the weight of every expectation, every camera, every scout with an NBA team's future in their hands.

The referee holds the ball at center court. LSU's center—all six-foot-five of her—tries to stare you down.

You just smile. They have no idea what's coming.

The game opens exactly how LSU planned: double-team before you even touch the ball. Their guard and forward shadow your every move, leaving gaps all over the court. Rookie mistake.

You catch Maria's eye, give her the smallest nod. She drives right, drawing attention, while you slip backdoor. The defender realizes too late—you're already airborne, catching the lob one-handed. The rim's still shaking as you get back on defense.

"That's my point guard!" you shout, giving Maria her props. The crowd's already going wild, and you're only thirty seconds in.

LSU tries to establish their post game, but Sierra's having none of it. She strips their center clean, and suddenly you're off to the races. The ball finds you at the three-point line. One defender recovers, rushing at you with a hand up.

Time slows. You see every option: the drive, the pass, the shot. But there's something poetic about making the hardest choice look easy. You rise up, release. The defender's hand grazes your wrist—doesn't matter. Swish.

"And The Prophecy strikes first! Two possessions, two baskets!" The announcer can barely contain himself. "She's making this look like a shoot-around!"

Your teammates are feeding off the energy. Taylor's owning the glass, Jasmine's picking pockets, and Maria's threading passes through impossible angles. By the six-minute mark, you're up 18-7, and LSU calls their first timeout.

"They can't guard you for shit!" Sierra laughs as you huddle up. She's right—they've tried three different defensive schemes already.

Coach Matthews keeps it tactical. "They're getting frustrated. Gonna start trying to bump you off your spots. Stay composed."

You nod, taking a quick swig of water. Your eyes drift to the UConn section. KK Arnold shoots you a smile which you return. Sierra’s shown you enough of her Tik Tok’s for you to recognize the Freshman.

Back on court, LSU switches to a box-and-one. Four players in a zone, one dedicated to face-guarding you. Cupcake stuff compared to what you see in practice.

You set up on the wing, let them think they've got you contained. The defender's playing so tight you can smell her shampoo. Maria starts her drive, draws the zone's attention. You wait... wait...

Then it happens. Quick as thought, you plant your back foot, cut hard to the corner. The defender's still turning when you catch and release in one motion. The ball hasn't even hit the net before you're heading back on defense.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" The announcer's losing it. "The Prophecy with another! She's 5-for-5 to start the game!"

The Harvard student section's going ballistic. Even your teammates are shaking their heads—three years, and you still find ways to surprise them.

LSU's getting chippy now. Their forwards are throwing elbows on screens, talking under their breath. You've seen it before: when skill isn't enough, they try to get physical.

"Yo Rocket," Taylor mutters after a particularly hard screen. "They're hunting."

You just nod. Let them hunt. You didn't get here by backing down.

With two minutes left in the first quarter, they try to trap you at half-court. Two defenders, both bigger, trying to muscle you into a mistake. You hit them with a crossover so nasty the crowd gasps. Split the double-team, euro-step around the help defense, and finish with a finger roll that looks like it defies gravity.

The LSU coach is screaming now, face turning purple. Nothing's working. Every scheme, every adjustment, every physical play, you've got an answer for all of it.

Ten seconds left. You let the clock drain, waving off the screen from Taylor. Your defender's in perfect position, textbook stance. Doesn't matter.

You rise up from NBA range, the defender's hand right in your face. The ball arcs high, the crowd holding its breath—

Swish. At the buzzer.

Harvard's bench explodes. Your teammates mob you as you head to the sideline, perfect quarter in the books. 15 points, 6-for-6 shooting, 3 assists. Just another day at the office.

"Show off," Sierra teases as you sit down.

"Actually," you grin, slipping into your best professor voice, "according to my calculations, that was just the warm-up."

The team cracks up. This is what the cameras miss, what the stats can't show. The joy of playing the game you love, with people you love, at a level few have ever reached.

But LSU's huddle looks different now. There's an edge to their expressions, a darkness in their eyes. They're not just losing—they're being embarrassed on national TV.

You've seen that look before. It usually means someone's about to do something stupid.

Second quarter opens with LSU trying something new: they're running a full-court press, getting extra physical on every possession. Their coach has clearly given them the green light to push boundaries.

"They big mad now," Jasmine laughs as she inbounds the ball to you.

You weave through the press like it's a morning jog, finding Maria with a no-look pass that has the crowd buzzing. She drains the three, and you make sure to flex for the LSU bench on the way back. Their coach calls for a substitution, sending in Williams—their enforcer, known for walking the line between aggressive and dirty.

"Heads up," Taylor mutters as she runs past you. "Number 32's got that look."

You've seen players like Williams before. They show up in every big game, thinking they'll be the one to throw you off your rhythm. They usually learn.

The next possession, Williams tries to bump you off your cut. You absorb the contact, spin away like water, and catch the ball in perfect position. She's still recovering when you rise up for three. Nothing but net.

"That's 20 for The Prophecy!" The announcer's voice carries over the roar. "Still perfect from the field!"

The Harvard student section starts a new chant: "YOU CAN'T GUARD HER!" 

You spot some NBA scouts courtside, furiously taking notes. There's already talk about you leaving early, being a top pick. But that's future stuff. Right now, there's just this game, this moment, this next possession.

Williams is getting frustrated. Each bump gets a little harder, each screen a little later. The refs are letting them play physical, and LSU's taking full advantage.

"Yo Rocket," Sierra says during a free throw. "Want me to accidentally trip her?"

You shake your head, smiling. "Nah. I got something better planned."

Next play down, you call for a clear-out. Everyone knows what's coming, your teammates, the crowd, even the UConn section leans forward. Williams squares up, trying to look tough.

The move is pure poetry: crossover so quick it looks like the ball's on a string, between the legs, behind the back. Williams lunges, trying to stay in front. That's when you hit her with the step-back, creating just enough space to rise up.

The shot is perfect before it leaves your hands. Williams can only watch as it drops through, pure silk. The crowd absolutely loses it.

"SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!" Jasmine screams, running past Williams, tongue out in mockery. "But not for her!"

Even some of the LSU players are trying not to smile. What else can you do when you're watching someone operate on a different level?

That's when you notice Paige Bueckers isn't just watching anymore—she's studying. Taking in every move, every counter, like she's downloading your game for future reference. You catch her eye for a split second and there's something there: not just respect, but recognition. Game recognizing game.

The half continues like a highlight reel. You're seeing everything in slow motion: every cut, every screen, every defensive rotation. It's like playing basketball in IMAX, everything crystal clear, every possibility visible.

With three minutes left in the half, Harvard's up 45-28. The game's starting to feel less like competition and more like an exhibition. That's usually when things get dangerous.

You see it coming in slow motion: Sierra bringing the ball up court, Williams setting up for what looks like a normal defensive position. But there's something in her stance, something in her eyes.

Williams launches herself at Sierra, sending her crashing into the scorer's table with a sickening crack. The crowd gasps as Sierra crumples, blood already streaming from her nose.

The arena goes dead silent.

Then everything happens at once. Your teammates rush to Sierra. Jasmine gets in Williams' face. The refs are blowing whistles. But you, you're standing perfectly still, a different kind of calculation running through your mind.

Three years of friendship. Three championships. Countless late-night study sessions where Sierra helped you with orbital mechanics homework while you ice your knees. All those moments flash through your mind in an instant.

You start walking toward Williams, and something in your expression makes everyone—teammates, refs, even the crowd—go quiet.

The silence in Lavietes Pavilion is deafening. Blood drips from Sierra's nose onto the hardwood—each drop echoing like thunder in your ears. Your teammates are surrounding her, but your focus is laser-locked on Williams, who's still trying to act tough, shoving Jasmine.

"Get the fuck out my face," Williams snarls, pushing your teammate back.

You cross the court in long, measured strides. Your teammates part like the Red Sea, something in your expression making them step aside. Williams turns just as you reach her, and for the first time tonight, you see fear flicker across her face.

The crowd holds its breath. Every phone is up, every camera pointed at this moment. Even the refs seem frozen, waiting to see what happens next.

You step right into her space, close enough that only she can hear you. Your voice comes out low, deadly calm. "Touch my teammate again," you say, each word precise as a scalpel, "and I promise you'll regret ever stepping foot in this fucking gym."

Williams tries to maintain her tough act, stepping forward. "Oh yeah? What you gonna—"

"Try me one more time," you cut her off, voice even quieter now, "and when I catch you outside this gym I’ll make sure you don’t get back up.” 

The refs finally restore order, whistles blaring. Technical fouls all around. As you check on Sierra—her nose definitely broken but she's insisting she can play—you hear the murmur rippling through the crowd. Nobody's ever seen you like this. The Prophecy's always been about grace under pressure, about making the impossible look easy.

This is something else entirely.

Coach sends you to the bench to cool off. You end up near the Harvard section, your teammates who aren't on the court surrounding you like a protective wall. Behind them, the UConn section hasn't made a sound, but you can feel their attention like a physical weight.

"I've never seen you like that," Taylor whispers, a mix of awe and concern in her voice.

"Nobody touches our people," you say simply, eyes locked on the court where LSU is shooting their free throws.

Sierra's getting patched up beside you, tissues stuffed up her nose. "You know I've taken worse hits in practice," she tries to joke.

“That’s beside the point." Your voice is still deadly quiet. "They came into our house thinking they could punk us. Thinking what—because we're Harvard we're soft? They can suck my dick.” 

The energy in the arena has shifted. Your teammates are fired up, talking amongst themselves. The crowd's still buzzing, cameras alternating between you and Williams. But you're not playing for them anymore. This isn't about highlights or SportsCenter or draft stock.

When the buzzer sounds for you to return, your teammates stand as one. "Light them the fuck up," Sierra says through her swollen nose, and the team erupts in agreement.

You step back onto the court, and the ball finds its way to your hands like it's meant to be there. Williams tries to meet your eyes, but she flinches when she does. She knows what's coming.

They all do.

The ball leaves your hands before their defense can set. Swish. 34 points.

Maria screens Williams hard—legally, but with extra emphasis. You curl around it, catch, release. Swish. 37.

"The Prophecy is taking no prisoners now," the announcer's voice carries over the chaos. "This isn't just basketball anymore, folks. This is personal."

Each possession is a message. No more fancy moves, no more style. Just pure, devastating efficiency. Catch and shoot. Drive and score. Again and again until the numbers blur together and the only sound in the arena is the whisper of the net.

Williams tries to guard you on a switch. You look her dead in the eye as you rise up. She knows it's good before you even release. 45 points.

The fourth quarter becomes a massacre. Not just because of your scoring, but the way your whole team moves now—like sharks that have tasted blood. Every screen is a statement. Every cut is a challenge. Harvard basketball isn't just winning anymore; they're sending a message.

With thirty seconds left, Harvard up by 35, Coach tries to sub you out. You wave her off. There's one more thing to do.

You catch the ball at the opposite baseline—ninety-four feet from your basket. The crowd realizes what you're about to attempt and rises as one. Williams is still trying to guard you, bless her heart.

You don't even look at the basket as you launch it, eyes locked on hers the whole way. The ball soars through the air, high enough to scrape the rafters. Time seems to stop as 4,000 people hold their breath.

Swish. As pure as a layup.

The arena explodes. Your teammates storm the court as you take off on a victory lap, tongue out, arms spread wide. The Harvard band is playing, the student section is losing their minds, and somewhere in the chaos, you catch Paige Bueckers standing up, shaking her head in amazement.

December hits Boston like a cold slap to the face. Three months since the LSU game, and Harvard's still undefeated, 12-0, ranked #2 in the country. Tonight's the game everyone's been circling: #1 UConn at Harvard. The Game of the Year, ESPN's calling it. Every headline is the same story in different words: you versus Paige, like the rest of the teams are just here to watch.

You haven't spoken to any of the UConn players since that night in your locker room. Sure, you see the occasional Instagram story when Jasmine reshares KK's posts (they're dating now, apparently, something that started with DMs and turned into weekend visits), but, that's about it. You don't even follow Paige Bueckers on social media. Why would you? 

"Earth to ____,” Sierra waves a hand in front of your face during warmups. "You good?"

"Yeah," you snap back to reality, draining another three. "Just locked in."

The arena's packed to the rafters, twice as loud as the LSU game. During layup lines, you catch glimpses of the UConn players, especially Paige, who moves with that same fluid confidence you remember. She's got that look in her eyes, the one you recognize in your own reflection: the quiet certainty of someone who's never doubted their greatness.

Your pregame outfit, fitted black turtleneck under your warmups, gold chain catching the light, has already made its rounds on social media. “She looks SO good!!” is trending on Twitter, complete with fire emojis. Not that you care about that stuff. (But okay, maybe you spent an extra minute on your appearance today. Professional reasons only.)

The game starts like a prize fight, both teams trading blows, neither willing to blink first. Paige opens with a three; you answer with a step-back jumper. She hits a floater; you counter with a drive that leaves her defender spinning. It's not personal, you tell yourself. Just basketball.

By the first TV timeout, you've both got 8 points and the crowd's already losing it. The energy's different from the LSU game, no cheap shots or trash talk, just pure, elite basketball. Almost like you're speaking the same language, even if you're on different teams.

"Yo," Maria whispers during a free throw, "is it just me or is Bueckers playing extra hard when she's guarding you?"

"Everyone plays hard against me," you shrug, but you've noticed it too. The way she locks in, the extra intensity in her defense. Like she's got something to prove.

The second quarter is where you start to take over. UConn tries everything, double teams, box-and-one, even a triangle-and-two. Nothing works. You're seeing the game in slow motion again, every passing lane, every defensive rotation crystal clear. By halftime, you've got 24 points on perfect shooting, and Harvard's up 48-39.

In the tunnel heading back out, you pass Paige. There's a moment— brief but loaded— where your eyes meet. She gives you this little nod, competitor to competitor. Nothing more. (But why does it feel like something more?)

The second half is a masterclass. You're not just scoring anymore; you're conducting an orchestra. No-look passes to Sierra for corner threes. Behind-the-back feeds to Taylor for breakaway layups. And when UConn makes their inevitable run in the fourth, you shut the door with a sequence of moves so filthy they'll probably end up on SportsCenter's top 10.

Final score: Harvard 89, UConn 78. Your stat line: 38 points, 9 assists, still haven't missed a shot this season. The handshake line is respectful, none of that LSU energy, and when you reach Paige, her grip is firm, professional.

"Good game," she says simply.

"You too," you respond, and mean it.

After the media obligations, your phone buzzes. It's Jasmine: 'Bar. Tonight. Both teams. No excuses.'

You consider begging off, you do have that Thermodynamics problem set due Monday, but something makes you change your mind. Professional courtesy, you tell yourself. Networking.

The bar is one of those trendy spots where the grad students pretend they're not drowning in student debt. You show up fashionably late in black jeans, a cream-colored silk shirt, and boots that add an extra inch you definitely don't need. The teams are separate at first, Harvard at one end, UConn at the other. Only Jasmine and KK bridge the gap, wrapped up in their own world.

You stick with your teammates initially, nursing a Moscow Mule and trying not to notice how Paige looks in a baggy jeans and a button up when she arrives with some of her teammates. The groups slowly start to mix as the night goes on, pulled together by Jasmine and KK's gravitational field.

"So," UConn's shooting guard, Emma, ends up next to you at the bar. "You always play like that, or were you just showing off?”

You arch an eyebrow, a light smile tugs at the corner of your lip. "Just playing my game." 

"Right," she smirks, ordering another drink. 

You change the subject, asking about their upcoming schedule. Basketball is safe. Basketball makes sense.

The night continues, groups shifting and reforming. You end up in a conversation with some UConn players about the WNBA draft, carefully maintaining your distance when Paige joins the discussion. But you can't help noticing things: how she commands attention without trying, the way her laugh carries over the bar noise, how she seems to know exactly where you are in the room at all times.

Or maybe that's just in your head. Maybe, you’re just down bad.

"Paige is single, you know," KK says later, appearing at your elbow with the subtlety of a brick through a window.

"Good for her," you say neutrally, even as something flutters in your chest.

"Good for you, you mean," KK mutters, dodging the half-hearted shove you send her way before melting back into the crowd.

The night winds down, groups splitting off for Ubers, some players already making plans for late-night food. You're standing near the door, tugging your coat tighter around you against the Boston chill seeping in, when you hear your name.

You turn, and there she is, bathed in the hazy glow of the bar's neon sign, her hands shoved into her coat pockets. For the first time all night, it's just the two of you, the noise of the bar fading into a distant hum.

"Good game tonight," she says, and it’s almost funny how understated it sounds after the week of media buildup and ESPN countdowns.

"Thanks." You pause, letting the silence stretch. "You too."

Her smile tilts, like she knows exactly what you’re doing. "You don’t have to play it cool all the time, you know."

"Who says I’m playing?" you counter, but the corner of your mouth betrays you, quirking up just enough to give her the edge.

Paige steps closer, the space between you shrinking but still electric. "You’re good, Rocket. Even better than the headlines give you credit for."

"Don’t tell me you came out here just to boost my already inflated ego," you say, leaning back just enough to keep the balance of power from tipping entirely her way.

"Maybe," she says lightly, though the way she holds your gaze feels heavier than that. "Or maybe I just wanted to see for myself what all the hype’s about."

"And?"

Her smile deepens, slow and deliberate. "I wasn’t disappointed."

The air between you crackles, her words lingering in a way that feels deliberate, intentional. But before you can decide what to say—or if you should say anything at all—one of her teammates calls her name from the curb.

She glances back, then at you again. 

"Don’t overthink your game plan," you say.

"And you don’t underestimate mine," she calls over her shoulder, her voice light but the glance she throws you anything but.

You stay there a moment longer, the cold biting at your skin but your chest feeling oddly warm. As you finally step outside, something about the night feels unfinished—like a play halfway through its best scene.

As you slide into the car, you realize your heart's racing—and it has nothing to do with the cold.

Maybe KK was right. Maybe this is good for you.

Later that night, lying in bed, you find yourself replaying moments from the game. Just the game, you tell yourself. The way she moves on court, like water finding its path. Her defensive intensity. Her competitiveness that mirrors your own.

Your phone buzzes: a follow request on Instagram from Paige Bueckers on your private Instagram.

You stare at it for a long moment, thumb hovering over the screen. Finally, you press accept. No big deal. Just professional courtesy.

But you can't help smiling as you set your phone down.

March suddenly feels very far away.

That night, sleep feels impossible. The win keeps looping in your mind—every play, every shot, every moment after the final buzzer. You’re still riding the high, but it's the interactions off the court that keep replaying, too. The way Paige’s eyes locked on yours during the game, that quiet intensity between you two. It was almost like there was something unspoken, an invisible thread pulling you together.

You try to shake it off as you lay in bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. Eventually, you post a late-night story: just you in your Harvard champion sweatshirt, hair a little messy, looking tired but satisfied. Caption: “some nights hit different 🏀✨"

You're not thinking about anyone in particular when you post it. Really. No, seriously.

But a couple of minutes later, your phone lights up with a notification: "paigebueckers viewed your story."

You freeze. Your heart does that annoying skip, the one you wish you could ignore. You try to play it cool, but the small smile on your face gives it away.

Before you can stop overthinking it, another story pops up from Paige. It’s her on the team bus, the weariness on her face somehow just makes her look even more perfect. Caption: “good games make you better. great games change you. 📈"

You stare at the story longer than you should. Three times, maybe four. Then you catch yourself. No, you're not doing this. You’re being professional. Totally. You swipe past it, but not before watching it once more—just for, you know, "research purposes."

Wednesday practice, you’re on the floor with Sierra, trying to explain orbital mechanics while stretching out your legs. The routine’s familiar, your voice calm and focused, like you’re explaining a simple layup. "So basically, if you account for gravitational force and initial velocity—"

"Rocket," Sierra interrupts, "you've been checking your phone every thirty seconds."

You look at her, feigning confusion. "Have not," you protest, but your fingers are already reaching for your phone, like they’re on autopilot. You can’t help it. Paige posted a drill video this morning, just pure basketball content—nothing that special, just her hitting a perfect jumper, maybe some footwork drills, nothing groundbreaking. You dropped an eyes emoji in response. Professional admiration only. That's it. Nothing to see here.

"Right," Sierra raises an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. "And I'm sure you've watched every other point guard's practice clips fifteen times too."

You give her a deadpan look. "I have no idea what you're talking about," you say, reaching for your foam roller and throwing it at her.

Thursday afternoon finds you in Advanced Fluid Dynamics, usually your favorite class. The equations and concepts feel like second nature to you, but today, your thoughts keep drifting elsewhere. You keep finding yourself thinking about basketball — about how certain players move like water, finding the path of least resistance, flowing through defenses with a grace you can’t help but admire.

You’re not sure if it’s the subject of the class or the strange pull you’re feeling, but your mind is elsewhere.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glance down discreetly. It's a notification from Instagram: Paige has liked your last three posts.

Including one from six months ago.

You blink. The screen feels like it’s glowing too brightly in your hand. You immediately glance around, making sure no one saw you checking, before quickly hiding your smile behind your textbook.

Because yeah, you definitely didn’t mean to feel this giddy. But here you are.

Friday night, you're in bed scrolling through film when you get the notification. Paige posted a new story: her at the gym, late night shooting session. Caption: “late-night grind. gotta stay sharp for what’s ahead. 😤"

Before you can overthink it, you reply: "living rent free in that head huh? 😌"

Three dots appear immediately. Your heart rate picks up.

just practicing for march 😘

You stare at that emoji for a solid minute. Professional rivals don't use kiss emojis. Right?

Saturday morning practice rolls around before you can even process what happened last night. Your mind’s still buzzing, trying to dissect the interaction with Paige, but you push it aside. Focus. You can think about that later.

As you’re stretching before drills, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. When Coach catches you grinning at it, she narrows her eyes.

"Whatever’s got you distracted better help us win games."

You quickly stuff your phone back in your bag, fighting to keep a neutral expression. "It’s just a text. No big deal."

"Sure, sure." Coach raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.

You try to shake off the grin still tugging at your lips. Definitely not in the middle of a debate with Paige about whether Kobe or Jordan had the better footwork. No. Definitely not.

Sunday night in the library, you're supposedly working on your Thermodynamics problem set. But your eyes keep flicking back to UConn's schedule page, calculating when they’ll be back in the northeast. You try to focus, but you find your thoughts drifting back to Paige.

A message pops up: "Shouldn't you be solving rocket equations or something?"

You bite back a smile, tapping out your reply: “shouldn't you be working on your left hand? Saw that weak drive yesterday 😴"

A few seconds pass. The dots appear, then disappear. You try not to let your heart race.

Finally, the response comes: “wow. and here i was about to say your last IG fit was 🔥"

You stare at your screen, biting your lip. The banter is easy, but there's something else there—something electric. Your pulse thuds louder than usual as you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keys. It feels like there's more hanging between you than just jokes. Did she feel it too? You quickly swipe back to your notes, trying to shake the feeling

Something that makes your skin buzz.

Tuesday, 2AM. You can’t sleep. Again. But this time, it’s different. The nervous energy swirling in your stomach isn’t from the game. It’s... something else.

Your phone lights up with a message:

you up?

Your breath catches in your throat. Two words. That’s all it takes.

You hesitate for just a second, fingers poised over the screen, and finally reply: “depends who’s asking 👀”

A beat. Three dots.

just your future march matchup.

You feel a grin tug at your lips, even as you try to keep your response cool. 

bold of you to assume you’ll make it that far.

guess you’ll have to wait and see.

You can’t help the quiet laugh that slips out. There’s something about these late-night exchanges that feels different.

You roll over, pulling your blanket tighter, trying to convince yourself it’s just another game, just another rival. But when your phone buzzes again, you’re already looking forward to her next message.

A month after the game, your phone buzzes again as you’re reviewing game film late at night. You glance at the time—1:47 AM. Too late to be analyzing, but you can't help it. The game keeps replaying in your head. Then another message appears:

you always study film this late?

You glance at the reflection of your laptop in the dark screen of your phone. It’s like she knows. You smirk, replying.

how'd you know i was watching film?

saw your laptop reflection in your glasses in that last story

Something warm settles in your chest. You didn't think anyone had noticed those details.

stalker much? 🤨

just scouting the competition 😌

You're about to reply when three dots appear again.

want company? i'm looking at our clemson tape

Your heart skips a beat. You weren't expecting this. You pause before responding, a nervous twinge running through you.  "facetime?"

Seconds later, the call comes through. You almost hesitate, but there’s something about it that pulls you in. You accept, suddenly hyper-aware that you're in your oversized Harvard hoodie, glasses perched on your nose, hair tossed into a messy bun.

When her face appears on the screen, you’re momentarily struck. She’s wearing a UConn sweatshirt, hair tied back, no makeup. She’s raw, real—like you’ve caught her in an unguarded moment, and for some reason, that makes your breath catch in your throat.

"So," she starts, then seems to lose her train of thought. "Um. Basketball?"

You laugh, some of the tension breaking. “Uh-huh.”

"Listen," she grins, "I'm better at talking with a ball in my hands."

The conversation shifts easily into basketball, the two of you sharing screens and breaking down film together. She catches things you miss, and you point out nuances she hasn’t noticed. The back-and-forth flows—something about it feels natural. Like you’ve been doing this for years.

Hours pass without you even realizing it, and suddenly you’re talking about other things: favorite movies, worst recruiting stories, childhood dreams.

"Wait," she's saying through laughter, "you really wanted to be an astronaut AND a basketball player?"

"Still do," You shrug, trying to play it cool, even as something inside you aches with the lightness of the moment. "Who says I can't be the first WNBA player in space?"

Her expression goes soft for a moment. "You know what? If anyone could do it..."

There's something in her voice that makes your skin tingle. You clear your throat. "Anyway, uh, it's late."

"Yeah," she says quietly. "This was... this was nice."

"Yeah," you agree, not quite meeting her eyes through the screen. "Maybe we could do it again sometime y’know?”

"I'd like that."

Neither of you moves to hang up. The silence stretches, full of things unsaid.

Finally, she breaks it: “Well, goodnight, Rocket."

The nickname hits different in her voice at 4AM.

"Night, Paige."

You end the call, staring at your screen for a moment before you finally fall back onto your bed. The silence is deafening, but your mind is racing. You force yourself to calm down, to let your heart slow to a normal pace.

Then your phone buzzes again:

sweet dreams 🌙

You definitely don’t replay the entire call in your head. Definitely not.

And you certainly don’t dream about the way she looked when she laughed at your space joke.

Definitely not.

You’re sprawled on the couch in the apartment you share with Jasmine and Sierra, supposedly reading your Aerospace Engineering textbook. Actually, you're doing everything you can to avoid looking like you're grinning at your phone. The cursor keeps blinking in the reply box, like it’s daring you to type something stupid.

"earth surface temps are literally insane rn"

"why are you even awake?"

"says the girl who's also awake 🤨"

"homework doesn't count"

"nerd 🤓"

"bet you won't say that to my face"

"bet i will. next time i see you"

"when's that gonna be? 👀"

A part of you knows you should be focused on the problem set in front of you. But instead, your thoughts keep drifting back to the screen, to her messages. You bite your lip, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. There's something different about this—about her—that you can't quite put into words. Something that makes your heart beat a little too fast for it to just be casual.

"Oh my GOD," Jasmine’s voice startles you, making you jolt and nearly drop your phone. She's leaning over the back of the couch, eyes twinkling with that grin that’s a little too knowing for comfort. "You're texting Paige!"

"What? No, I'm—" you fumble your phone, nearly dropping it. "I'm doing homework."

"Mmhmm." Jasmine vaults over the couch to land beside you. "That's why you're making the same face I make when KK texts."

"I do not make a face."

"You literally look like this—" Jasmine demonstrates an exaggerated dreamy expression that makes you throw a pillow at her.

"I'm going to KK's this weekend," she says after dodging the pillow. Her voice is deliberately casual. "UConn has a home game Friday. You should come."

Your heart does a little flip. "I have that Physics midterm Monday..."

"Right, because you definitely weren't just texting about wanting to see her."

"I wasn't—" you start, but your phone buzzes again, Paige’s name lighting up the screen in a way that makes it impossible to ignore.

"Girl," Jasmine says, softer now. "It's okay, you know? To want something besides basketball."

You stare at your phone, fingers hovering again over the keys as those three dots show up. Paige is typing, and your chest tightens. Your heart’s racing now, too fast for this to just be some rivalry. You’ve never felt this way about an opponent before.

"It's complicated," you finally manage, your voice coming out quieter than you intended.

"When is it not?" Jasmine squeezes your shoulder as she gets up. "Think about it, okay? KK says the whole team's been asking about you anyway."

Later that night, Sierra finds you on the roof of your building. It’s your thinking spot—the place where you go to clear your head when the world feels too loud or when the equations refuse to make sense. Tonight, though, the equations have nothing to do with physics.

"Spill," Sierra says, sliding down to sit beside you.

"What?"

"You've been different lately. Good different, but different." She bumps your shoulder. "And I saw you smile at your phone six times during practice today."

You let out a long breath. The city lights blur below you, and somehow it feels easier to talk without making eye contact.

"I think... I think I like her," you say finally. The words feel huge in the quiet night air. "Paige, I mean."

"No shit," Sierra laughs softly. "I figured that out when you watched her coffee story four times."

You blink, feeling caught. "You saw that?"

"Girl, everyone saw that." She pauses. "The question is, what are you gonna do about it?"

You lean back against the roof, your gaze on the stars that are barely visible through the light pollution of the city. "I don’t know. It’s complicated," you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "We’re rivals, and we’ll probably face each other in March. If the media got wind of us, it’d be a circus. Not to mention—" You cut yourself off, because it sounds even worse when you say it out loud.

"Okay, forget all that for a second." Sierra interrupts, her voice quieter now. She turns to face you, her eyes soft. "How does she make you feel?"

Your breath catches in your chest. How does Paige make you feel? You think about those late-night video calls that always start with film study but end with laughing over something stupid. About how she remembers little details about your life—like your favorite late-night snack, your favorite places on campus, or how you sometimes still get nervous before big games.

"Like I can be both," you say finally, the words tumbling out before you even realize their weight. "Like I can be The Prophecy, but also just... me."

Sierra's quiet for a long moment. Then: "You know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think you've spent three years being perfect. Maybe it's time to be happy instead."

You stare at the stars, trying to find your footing in this new reality that feels both foreign and exciting. "I don’t know if I’m ready for that."

Sierra nudges you, her tone playful again. "Then at least try. You deserve it."

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and for a moment, you forget about everything else. You pull it out, heart skipping when you see the name on the screen: Paige. The message.

 miss watching film with you

Sierra leans over to peek at the text, a grin spreading across her face. "Smooth," she says, barely suppressing a laugh.

"Shut up," you laugh.

"Is that why Jasmine invited you to Connecticut this weekend?" Sierra asks, an eyebrow raised.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "She told you?"

"Girl, I’m not blind," Sierra says, standing up. "Please. She’s been planning this whole setup for days. And you know what? You should go."

You look up, your gaze meeting hers. "I don’t know. The physics exam is coming up, and—"

"Physics will still be there when you get back," she interrupts, her voice light but serious. "But this? This might not be here forever."

You chew on that for a moment, the weight of it settling in.

"She’s waiting for you to say something," Sierra says quietly, her gaze flicking between you and the screen.

You hesitate, then smile softly to yourself. This is your chance.

You type back: "guess you'll have to come study in person sometime."

Sierra gives you a teasing look. "Oh, it’s on now."

Your phone buzzes again, and this time, Paige’s response comes quickly: "is that an invitation?"

Your fingers hover over the keys for a moment, and then, with a deep breath, you reply: "maybe. you gonna show me around campus?"

The message comes back almost immediately: "only the important spots. like where i practice my weak left hand drives 😏"

You can’t help it. You burst into laughter, your heart light and carefree for the first time in what feels like forever. Sierra shakes her head, smiling fondly at you.

"You’re totally down bad, huh?"

"Shut up," you laugh, feeling the warmth of it rush through you. But even as you tease her, you feel it too—this rush of excitement, the anticipation of something new, something that could change everything.

Sierra heads for the roof door, pausing just before she goes inside. "Hey Rocket?"

"Yeah?"

"Just... be careful, okay? Not because of basketball or rankings or any of that stuff. Just... because your heart's on the line too."

You nod, your chest tight as the weight of her words settles in. "I will."

She gives you one last look before disappearing inside, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your phone, and the lighthearted texts you’ve been sending all night.

Another buzz from Paige lights up your phone: "but seriously. come this weekend? i want to see you."

Her response makes your whole body warm: "can't wait 💫"

You stay on the roof a while longer, letting the night air cool your flushed cheeks. March feels both too far away and too close, but right now, in this moment, you let yourself focus on a different kind of countdown:

Three days until Connecticut.

The minute you step onto UConn's campus, you remember why being The Prophecy is complicated.

"Oh my god," you hear someone whisper. "Is that—"

"Holy shit, that's really her—"

"The Prophecy is here—"

You pull your hoodie up, hoping for some anonymity, but it’s futile. Jasmine’s already ditched you to find KK, leaving you standing in the middle of the chaos, awkwardly clutching your duffel bag. You check your phone, hoping for a distraction, when you see a text from Paige.

how’s campus so far? are you surviving the hype? 😂

You type back quickly, trying to act casual.

surviving. But UConn is like a zoo. 🙄

Before you can put the phone down, a text buzzes again.

i’m in the quad, come meet me? i’ve got your escape route ready 🏃‍♀️

You smile at her message, your nerves a little lighter now, but that doesn't make the reality of the situation any less surreal.

"Should I just text her when I get there?" you mutter to yourself, typing out a quick reply:

on my way. see you soon.

The crowd's whispers grow louder, and as you move through the sea of students, your phone buzzes again, this time with a message that makes your heart skip a beat.

turn around

You turn, and there's Paige, looking unfairly good in joggers and a UConn hoodie. For a second, you both just stare at each other, all those late-night texts and video calls suddenly feeling very different in person.

"Hi," you manage, hyper-aware of the growing crowd pretending not to watch. "Um. Nice campus."

"Thanks, I—" she starts, just as you say, "Should we—"

You both stop. Laugh nervously. God, where did all your game go?

"Yo, Paige!" some guy calls out. "Is that The Prophecy? Can we get a picture?"

Before either of you can respond, the crowd swarms in like a tidal wave. Students materialize from every direction, phones out, voices overlapping, and it’s all happening too fast. You’re caught in the whirlwind of questions and flashes.

"Can you sign my jersey?"

"Is it true you haven't missed a shot since high school?"

"Are you really majoring in rocket science?"

"Can you do the space shot right now?"

It’s nothing new. You've done this a thousand times, but today, it feels different. You're hyper-aware of Paige standing there, watching, her gaze unreadable. Her eyes flick from the crowd to you, amusement playing at the corners of her lips, but there’s something else there too.

You keep your composure—signing autographs, taking selfies, answering questions—but it’s harder when she’s so close. You try not to look over at her too much, but you catch her looking at you once. And her smile? It makes the whole world feel lighter, even in the chaos.

Then someone from the crowd asks, “Yo, did you come to see Paige?”

You freeze. All eyes are suddenly on you, the crowd waiting for your response.

“Just checking out the competition,” you say smoothly, though your heart skips a beat. But then you catch the subtle curve of Paige’s lips as she tries to hide her smile.

“She's already kicked our ass once,” Paige adds, her voice playful. “Maybe I’m trying to learn her secrets.”

The crowd laughs, and the tension in the air eases. You finally manage to break free from the swarm, and Paige leads you out of the madness, pulling you toward a quieter part of campus. She glances over at you as if to gauge how you’re holding up, and then says, “Sorry about that. I probably should’ve warned you… You’re kind of a big deal here.”

“Here?” You raise an eyebrow. “Not just at Harvard?”

She rolls her eyes with that charming little smirk of hers. “Please, you know what I mean.”

She bumps your shoulder lightly, and for a second, you’re both frozen in that little moment, and then—quickly—she steps away, as though surprised by the contact. She rubs the back of her neck awkwardly before continuing, “The perfect record? The space shot? Your major? You’re like basketball mythology at this point.”

The words settle over you, like a weight that makes you stand a little straighter. It's odd, but you can't deny the truth in what she’s saying. You pass a group of girls, and they absolutely squeal when they spot you. One of them is wearing a t-shirt with your number and "The Prophecy" written on the back, and it's like you’ve stepped into some weird alternate reality.

"That's..." you start.

"Weird?" Paige offers.

"I was gonna say flattering, but yeah, weird works too."

She chuckles, a little breathless, as you continue walking. You can’t help but notice how she looks at you—like she’s caught between admiration and something else.

By the time you reach the athletics center, the crowd starts to thin, but there's still a palpable buzz in the air. Students part for you like you're some kind of celebrity, whispering as they pass.

"—never misses, like ever—"

"—turned down every WNBA scout—"

"—heard she's already got a NASA job lined up—"

"—next GOAT for sure—"

You can’t hear it all, but enough of it sticks to your skin. You make eye contact with a few of the UConn players as you pass, and they do double-takes. The whispers don’t stop. The world still hasn't figured out how to react to you, and you’re still trying to wrap your head around it yourself.

When you get inside the locker room, you spot KK, draped over Jasmine on a bench. She sits up as soon as she sees you, and a wide grin spreads across her face.

“The Prophecy graces us with her presence!” KK announces, her voice carrying through the room.

You and Paige both turn to each other, saying “Shut up” at the same time. You exchange a glance, and immediately, you both look away, your cheeks heating up.

“Oh my god,” KK stage-whispers to Jasmine, her voice dripping with mischief. “They’re actually awkward. This is adorable.”

“I will literally murder you,” Paige threatens, but her face is flushed, the playful tone in her voice not matching her serious words.

You drop your bag, trying to act casual despite your racing heart. "So, this is where the magic happens?"

"Something like that," Paige responds, her voice quieter now. Then, her tone shifts, just a little, as she adds, “Want to see where I practice those trash left-hand drives?”

Her smile is nervous but hopeful, and something in your chest flutters in response. You swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes meeting hers.

"Lead the way, Bueckers."

The gym is quiet, empty this late—just the two of you and the space stretching out around you like a vast, hollow echo. The squeak of your sneakers against the court floor seems louder than usual, and the rhythm of the ball bouncing between you is a steady heartbeat in the silence.

You grab a ball, the motion automatic, instinctual. Some habits don’t break just because your heart’s doing backflips.

"So..." you start, dribbling slow, almost hesitant. Your palms feel too hot on the ball, like everything about this moment is too much, too close, but you can’t pull away.

"So..." she echoes, her voice low, mirroring your movements with a fluid ease that makes your pulse pick up a little faster.

"This is..." you trail off, looking for the right word. Something that fits the electric tension hanging in the air. 

"Weird?"

She raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. "I was gonna say nice," you add, voice a little softer, but still trying to brush it off, to keep control. "But yeah, weird too."

She laughs—just a soft sound, but it breaks something between you. You feel your shoulders loosen, and the tightness in your chest starts to ease. "Want to play? Or are you scared I'll ruin your perfect record?" Her words are light, playful, but there’s an edge of something else there. Something beneath the surface.

"Please," you scoff, but the words come out softer than you expected, a little breathless. "You couldn’t guard me with a restraining order."

Her smile widens, but her eyes stay locked on yours, sharp, like she can see right through you. "Big talk from someone who's been stalking my coffee stories."

You nearly drop the ball at that. "I— that’s not—" You choke on your words, heat rushing to your cheeks, the sudden shift in conversation throwing you off-balance.

"Four views," she grins. "I counted."

"Professional research," you manage, trying to ignore how your face is burning.

"Right." She steps closer, her body moving fluidly, effortlessly, still dribbling the ball with that same steady rhythm. "And all those late-night texts?"

"Scouting reports," you shoot back, but your voice cracks, betraying the lie.

"The two-hour video calls?"

"Film study," you mutter, voice barely a whisper.

"And coming to Connecticut?" Her tone shifts—lighter, but with a question in it now. A challenge in her eyes, daring you to say something.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding against your chest. "Would you believe advanced aerospace research?"

She's too close now. You can smell the faint scent of her perfume, feel the heat radiating off her as she steps forward just enough to close the space between you. The ball’s still bouncing, the rhythm matching your heartbeats, and you can hear the beat of her pulse too—steady.

"Try again." Her voice is soft, but the challenge in it is unmistakable.

You take a breath, the air thick with something unspoken. "Maybe... I just wanted to see you."

The ball stops bouncing. It’s almost like everything around you freezes for a second. The echo of the gym fades out, and all you can hear is the steady thrum of your heartbeat, racing now, too fast, too loud.

Her eyes search yours, the gold flecks in them catching the light, and for a split second, everything feels suspended. She doesn’t move. You don’t either. There’s a moment between you, raw and exposed, like you’re both just standing there, waiting for something to happen.

Then, her phone buzzes, breaking the stillness—KK, asking where you both disappeared to. The moment shatters, and you both step back, like you’ve both just been jolted awake.

"We should..." she starts.

"Yeah," you agree quickly, maybe a little too quickly. "Team dinner, right?"

"Right." The word comes out like a sigh, a soft release, but neither of you move for a beat.

You both head back toward the locker room, but it feels like the distance between you has doubled, despite being only a few feet apart. You’re careful to maintain some space, but the air around you still crackles with the memory of the moment.

Just before you reach the door, you feel the lightest touch on your wrist. It’s a shock to the system, warm and soft, and you freeze.

"Hey."

You turn to face her, heart still thundering in your chest, your breath caught in your throat.

"I'm glad you came," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air between you, heavier than anything she’s said so far.

You open your mouth, but no words come out, your mind a blur, trying to make sense of the shift in the air between you. Before you can speak, though, she’s through the door, vanishing into the locker room, leaving you standing there, breathless.

You stand there for a moment, your heart still racing, trying to collect yourself. The touch of her fingers on your wrist is still warm on your skin, like an electric spark that lingers long after the contact ends. You can still feel the weight of her gaze on you, the way she looked at you just before she left—open, vulnerable, and for a second, everything in you just... paused.

You’re so fucking screwed.

Inside, KK takes one look at your face and starts laughing immediately. "Oh yeah," she says to Jasmine, her voice full of knowing. "March is gonna be interesting."

You throw a towel at her, but you can't help smiling. Because yeah, March is going to be complicated. But right now, watching Paige try not to look at you while she gets ready for dinner, you can't bring yourself to care.

Some things are worth the complication.

The team’s already piled into the upscale Italian place, the kind of restaurant where the hostess gives your group a double-take, eyes wide as she tries to figure out if you’re all really who she thinks you are. Emma starts giggling beside you, and you can’t help but let a laugh slip too. The entire UConn starting five, plus you, Jasmine, and a couple of bench players, fill up the space like a small parade. The table’s enormous, but somehow, fate—or possibly KK—decides that you should sit next to Paige. You know it's not her doing, but the thought of it makes your stomach do flips. Definitely not subtle.

Your knees brush under the table, and you both jerk away so fast it feels like a live wire just zapped both of you. It’s... a weird moment, but it’s over quickly.

"So," Caroline leans in, practically smirking with that devious look of hers. "We finally get to hear how The Prophecy got her name."

"Oh god," you groan, sinking back in your seat, hoping to disappear into the padded booth. But Paige perks up next to you, eyes lighting with interest.

"Wait," she says, "I don’t know this story."

You shoot Emma a glare, but she’s already opening her mouth, ready to spill the beans.

"Nobody tells it," you warn, but Emma's already launching in.

"Freshman year," Emma begins, her voice a little too loud in the suddenly quiet room, "first practice. Coach put her through this insane shooting drill—"

"It wasn't insane," you protest.

"Hundred shots from five spots," Emma continues, undeterred. "Most freshmen hit, like, sixty percent if they’re lucky. She goes perfect. Coach thinks it’s a fluke, makes her do it again. Perfect again."

You can feel Paige’s eyes on you, her attention sharp and focused. You don’t know how to feel about it, but you try not to squirm under her gaze.

"Third time," Emma's building to it now, "Coach says 'What are you, some kind of prophecy?' And right as she says it, this girl—" she points at you, "—sinks a half-court shot backward without looking."

"I was stretching!" you defend, but the table's already losing it.

"The name stuck," Caroline finishes. "Even before the no-miss streak."

"Speaking of," Tessa jumps in, her voice suddenly a lot more serious, "how do you actually do that? The never-missing thing?"

The entire table quiets down, all eyes suddenly fixed on you. Even the waitress, hovering nearby, pretends not to listen, but you catch her glancing over every few seconds.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of everyone’s attention on you, but the pressure isn’t all bad. You glance over at Paige—she’s still watching you, her expression unreadable, but there’s something in her eyes that makes it hard to focus. She shifts slightly closer, and it makes your heart race.

"I just..." You pause, unsure of how to explain the weird, inexplicable thing that happens when you’re on the court. "I guess I see it differently. Like, you know how some people have perfect pitch in music? They hear things that other people can’t even pick up on?"

Nods around the table.

"I see angles that way," you continue, trying to sound more confident, but you’re still not used to talking about it. "Trajectories, force vectors... like physics and the feel of it—they just... merge in my head, I guess?"

Jasmine, who’s been watching you this whole time, cuts in with a smirk. "She’s being modest. Yesterday, I watched her solve a quantum mechanics problem while sinking thirty straight threes."

You roll your eyes. "Multitasking," you mumble, but Paige’s knee brushes against yours again. This time, neither of you pulls away, and your concentration goes from laser focus to absolute mush. You feel heat rising in your chest, but you try to keep your voice steady.

The conversation shifts, but you’re barely listening anymore. Every little movement from Paige, every time her hand brushes your arm as she reaches for her water, every time she leans in a little closer to hear you speak—your mind is barely keeping up. Her perfume is subtle but intoxicating, making it impossible to think straight.

"Y'all should see her in class," Jasmine's saying. "Professors literally use her as an example in physics."

"One time!"

"Three times," Jasmine corrects. "Remember when Dr. Peterson used your jump shot to explain projectile motion?"

KK, who’s been silently watching you both like this is her personal reality TV show, grins. "No wonder half the team has a crush on you."

You nearly choke on your water. Paige freezes next to you, and you can feel the shift in the air.

"I mean," Caroline chimes in, clearly trying to smooth over the tension, but only making it worse, "who wouldn’t? Best player in the country, genius-level IQ, and look at her—"

"Okay!" Paige cuts her off, a bit too loudly. "Who wants dessert?"

The change in pace is enough to shake everyone out of the sudden tension. But as dessert menus are passed around and people start laughing again, your mind is still racing.

Later, as the group walks back toward campus, you notice how easily the team starts to scatter. KK and Jasmine vanish into the distance almost immediately, making some excuse about practice. The rest of the team drifts off to their own plans—study groups, dorms, whatever—but you and Paige end up walking together, side by side in the cool night air, the sound of your footsteps the only thing breaking the silence.

"So," Paige says, her voice soft but a little uncertain, "the hotel’s that way."

You glance at her. "Yeah."

Neither of you turns toward it.

"I have, um," she starts, then stops. Takes a breath. "I have a single. In my dorm. If you wanted to watch a movie or something."

Your heart goes into overdrive, doing flips and twists like it might just leap out of your chest. The words feel stuck in your throat, but your mind is running wild.

"Or something?"

Even in the dim streetlight, you can see her blush. "I didn't mean— I just thought—"

"I'd like that," you cut off her rambling, and the smile she gives you makes your knees weak.

Her room is exactly what you'd expect - basketball posters, team photos, neat desk with game notes spread out. What you don't expect is how intimate it feels, being in this space that's so completely hers.

"Make yourself comfortable," she gestures to her bed, then immediately looks panicked. "I mean, you can sit— I'll take the chair—"

"Paige?"

"Yeah?"

"Breathe."

She laughs, some tension breaking. You sit on her bed, back against the wall, and after a moment she joins you, careful to leave space between you.

"So," you say.

"So," she echoes.

"Half the team has a crush on me, huh?"

She groans, covering her face. "KK has the biggest mouth—"

"Just half though?" You're pushing it, you know you are, but something about the way she's blushing makes you brave.

She lowers her hands, looks at you directly for the first time since dinner. "You know exactly how many people have a crush on you."

"Do I?"

Her eyes drop to your lips for a fraction of a second. "You must."

The air feels thick, charged. Your hand is on the comforter between you, and slowly, so slowly, her pinky finger hooks over yours.

Just that small point of contact sets your whole body on fire.

"Paige?"

"Hmm?"

"I didn't come to Connecticut for film study."

She turns her hand, letting her fingers intertwine with yours properly. Your breath hitches.

"I know," she says softly.

You sit there for what feels like hours, neither moving except for her thumb brushing slowly across your knuckles. The touch is so light, so careful, but it feels like the most intense thing you've ever experienced.

"I should..." you start reluctantly.

"Stay," she says quickly, then blushes harder. "I mean, it's late, and the hotel's far, and—"

"Okay."

She blinks. "Okay?"

You squeeze her hand gently. "Okay."

Later, lying in her bed (she insisted, taking the floor despite your protests), you stare at the ceiling in the dark. Your hand still tingles where she touched it.

"Rocket?" her voice comes softly from below.

"Yeah?"

A pause. Then: "I'm really glad you're here."

You close your eyes, smiling into the darkness. "Me too."

Neither of you mentions March. Neither of you talks about rankings or rivalries or what any of this means. For now, there's just this: her steady breathing in the quiet room, the lingering warmth of her touch, and the feeling that something huge is beginning.

Just before you drift off, you hear her whisper something that might be "perfect." But you're already falling asleep, wrapped in her blankets that smell like her, dreaming of basketball and physics and the way her hand felt in yours.

Some equations, you think hazily, don't need solving.

Continue to part two.

[lovetrouble123]

Kindergarten Crush

Synopsis: Damian finds himself stuck with the annoying popular girl everyday

TW: neglectful parent(s) alluded too???

A/N: okay yall🤩 since yall rlly liked that last fic I uploaded about all the boys, here’s one about just Damian lol🤭 (okay but fr yall ate that shit up and I couldn’t be any more thankful <3 thank you so much and enjoy reading!!)

⋆˚✿˖°

Gotham Academy was a school for the rich, and Damian Al Ghul Wayne was one of the many kids that attended…lucky him. The concept of going to school seemed like a waste of time for him considering he was an assassin. He should be spending his time training, and yet his father shipped him off to some useless school during the day.

He tried not to draw attention to himself, but his ‘sophisticated’ personality really just made him stand out all the more…especially considering his father is the Bruce Wayne. So, to counter the annoying popularity that came from his last name, he preferred to stay alone. Partner work? He would ask to work alone. Projects? Alone. Lunch time? He would sit in the school courtyard and eat the lunch that Alfred prepared for him.

It was always quiet out there. There would rarely be other students, and if there were, it was the social outcasts who preferred the silence like he did. But he couldn’t blame them, they left him alone and he left them alone.

It was like any other lunch period. Damian sat alone at one of the stone tables, bag of apple slices laid out and one of his many thick chapter books pressed against the stone with his free hand keeping it open. His green eyes scanned each word as his mind consumed the words on the page, his mind playing the scene in his head.

“Is that Y/N?”

“What is she doing out here?”

“Go talk to them!”

The once quiet courtyard was now filled with chatter that Damian desperately tried to ignore, but even with his icy glare toward the others, his gaze landed on Y/N. Damian labeled Y/N an annoying presence, just like the other popular kids at his school. He knew her, but not well. Her father was some big shot in the government or something, but Damian didn’t really care who her father was. He just knew that he despised her and her clique.

But for once, she seemed relatively human. She sat alone at one of the other stone tables, a sketchbook pressed against the table with her earbuds in.

He rolled his eyes and finished his meal before packing up and heading toward the library for the rest of the lunch period.

The following day, Y/N wasn’t outside and the courtyard returned to its quiet setting again…and for the next few days, it was the same.

Until a week later on some random Thursday.

Damian sat at his table again, this time studying for some math test he would be taking later in the day. He had finished his meal a little while ago, and now sat studying…or he would have been studying if it wasn’t for Y/N standing in front of his table looking at him.

“Can I help you?” He rudely asked.

“Would you mind being my muse?” Y/N sweetly asked.

Damian tore his eyes away from his textbook and looked at Y/N. “No.”

“Oh, okay,” she then turned and walked off.

The next day, Y/N found Damian again outside and sat down across from him. “I need help on my language homework, can you help me?”

“No—.”

“But it’s Arabic,” Y/N insisted. “Don’t you speak it? I heard that you did.”

He did, fluently. But why would he take time out of his day to help her?

“I do, but why would I help you?”

A week passed before Y/N wandered up to Damian after one of their shared classes together and asked him for some notes she missed. Damian wanted to tell her to go away, but she was clearly persistent considering she kept coming back. So finally, he gave in.

It took two months before Damian began to warm up to Y/N. He wasn’t going soft, not at all. But maybe she wasn’t as bad as he originally thought.

“Why do you no longer hang out with those popular kids?” Damian finally asked during one lunch period.

“I realized they weren’t good people,” she shrugged. “Why do you always hang out alone?”

“Touché,” Damian replied.

Another month passed and he found himself thinking about Y/N, even on missions. How bothersome. He still did his missions flawlessly with his father, but even he could tell he was acting slightly different, even if he didn’t admit it out loud. Self awareness.

“Do you want to share my Oeros with me?” Y/N asked as she sat beside Damian in the library. It was raining outside which caused the two to haul up inside the quiet library.

Damian glanced at the small blue box labeled ‘Oreos’ before his eyes flickered to Y/N. “I’m okay,” he said. “But a whole box for lunch? That seems…unhealthy.”

Y/N shrugged and opened the box of cookies. “Not all of us have parents who care about their kid’s nutrition.”

“My father does not care,” Damian replies. “Pennyworth is the one who prepares my meals.”

“Pennyworth?” Y/N replied with furrowed brows as she ate her cookies.

“My butler,” Damian said.

“You have a butler? Must be nice,” Y/N sighed. “I have to do everything myself.”

“It’s his job to provide assistance,” Damian stated as he reached into his black school bag and pulled out a container of strawberries. “But your self reliance is admirable…although I doubt that Pennyworth would allow Oreos for just a meal.” He then glanced down at his strawberries, “if you…want some strawberries���you can have some.”

Why did he just offer some of his meal? It’s his meal, and if Y/N was dumb enough not to pack a proper meal, that was on her.

“Oh, okay, thanks,” Y/N smiled.

Damian gently slid the container between them as he tried to act aloof and ignore the way his heart seemed to flutter at her smile. But he looked away and reached into his school bag and brought out a small black sketchbook, as well as a pencil. He flipped it to a free and clean page as Y/N spoke up, “I didn’t realize you drew, Damian.”

“Father said it would be good for me to pick up a hobby that wasn’t training…something to keep me occupied,” Damian admits. “I suppose I’ve found myself enthralled with it.”

His father had recommended a multitude of hobbies, literally anything that wasn’t training for missions. He already knew Damian would train anyway, he had done it since he was just a little kid…but Damian needed outlets…something other than getting murderous tendencies.

“Training?” Y/N asked, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

He slipped up, and he hadn’t meant to. Why did he slip up anyway? He was usually so good at keeping his mouth shut about the whole Robin thing.

“Fencing,” Damian lied. “Father believes that I spend too much time obsessing over it.”

“I didn’t know you took fencing,” Y/N said as she reached for the strawberry container and picked one up.

“Fencing, martial arts, self defense,” Damian trailed off as he began to draw. “I take multiple lessons.”

“Maybe you can teach me sometime,” Y/N suggested. “I used to take martial arts as a kid, but I was too little to keep it up.”

He briefly paused as he thought over her request. Was he seriously considering spending time with her? …yes.

“Perhaps when I have time,” Damian vaguely said.

Y/N nodded as her eyes flickered to the sketchbook, “what kinds of things do you like to draw?”

“Whatever comes to mind,” Damian admits. “I am not picky.”

Y/N smiles, “you’ll have to show me sometime.”

“No.”

“Yeah, alright, that’s fair,” Y/N said as she leaned back in her chair. “I refuse to show anyone what I draw too.”

Damian silently nodded as he went back to his drawing, although he was silently aware of the girl’s presence beside him. He was aware of the way she crunched on her cookies, which was a little annoying…but then she’d take a strawberry from his container. He knew his mother would be disappointed him, especially his grandfather.

“You’re staring,” Damian pointed out with his eyes still on his sketch. “You’re not very subtle.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Y/N nonchalantly replied.

The sound of a bell then echoed throughout the library causing Y/N to groan in annoyance. “Lunch is over already, how annoying.” She grabbed her last Oreo and shoved it into Damian’s hand before getting up and leaving.

Damian’s brows furrowed as he stared and watched Y/N leave before his eyes trailed down to the cookie in his hand. The dark cookie contrasted against the milk white cream in the middle. Damian couldn’t help but softly smile in amusement before shaking his head and silently eating the Oero.

[fyodorsushankaaa]

again this thingy but this time deadline is till 1st february cuz i know this type of posts blow up too fast 💀💀

50 notes: i'll clean my room once in 2 weeks

100 notes: i'll do my homeworks at home (i always do them at school)

250 notes: i'll study math and chemistry

350 notes: i'll drink less caffee and tea

700 notes: i'll draw more often

1300 notes: i'll start writing fanfic/story again

1600 notes: i'll tell my parents when i'm sick

2000 notes: i'll tell my parents that i definitely have adhd and need treatment or smt idk

5000 notes: i'll try to be more optimistic abt future

10000 notes: i'll stop constantly thinking about death

30000 notes: ...i'll talk about my intrusive thoughts with my parents (i dont want that.) or a psychologist if i ever talk to one

might add more by time lol

max 30 notes for per person (please.)

[littlestpersimmon]

Had this weird story idea about a big dragon with runes all over him, and he's like a paper accordion that could unwind for thousands of miles, and the only way you could defeat him was if you were able to read every single rune on the dragon's papery body, and discern the long riddle of the princess who turned her labyrinthine library into her living armor in the form of a colossal and endless dragon . So far every knight that tried to off the dragon with fire, rain, whatever, was met with *death by a thousand paper cuts*. But the dragon don't really kill them, bc dragon is actually squeamish Lol. But since the entire kingdom is enrobed by the pages of a large dragon, there are entire university branches dedicated to discerning the riddle of the princess, why, why did she turn into a dragon, why is this her curse. And their culture shifts around literature, books and academia being treated as the holiest, most venerable form of knowledge. But anyway a cringefail and autistic kitchen boy loves math. He had come from a long line of dedicated scholars of the book. Boring and trifling matters like arithmetic were considered ignoble when in comparison to the mystery of the paper dragon. And the boy disagreed, of course. He loved books and all but was easily frustrated by them, he cannot focus on it, he needs the abstract to become concrete in his mind, he is the kind of boy who looks at a bridge and marvels at the sheer architecture it took to build a bridge before he is astounded by the bas relief;

he loves the world as it is and wants to tease out the blueprints. Anyway, when he was a boy, his mama used to tell him the story of the paper dragon, with only the first two pages of the dragons body being successfully interpreted by scribes. It had been about a princess who loved looking towards the stars and recording the sun's positions through refracted telescopes. And how she had a library filled with endless knowledge.

And the boy read and read the two pages and was enchanted by the mystery of the princess' riddle. In his teenaged life the boy would see the dragon flying above him while he was climbing an almond tree, and he makes out one of the pages along its infinite body as having similar lyrics to the known pages.

And it bothers the boy, all day he'd think about it. And he thinks about the princess who locked herself in her tower, watching the sun through refracted telescopes, and made dedicated sketches and notes every day to discern where the sun had spots; and it sort of connects in his mind that those sunspot sketches helped form an image of the sun, in a way, so he does the same.

Every day he'd just watch the dragon, and waited for the repeating lyric, and noted it down, until he had a long and fucked up diorama of the dragon; It takes him 12 years to be able to reliably predict where on the dragon's body the lyric shows up again.

when folded a certain way, in accordance to where the lyric shows up, the dragon's papery accordion body, the dragon forms a star at its core.

written in a spiral, the story forms into an answer to the princess' riddle; "I want to be free, I want to be free, I want to be free, I want to be free,"

over and over and over. In all aspects the princess who was a prince all along had wanted to be free, and the only way he could think of escaping the confines of his life and the fear of misunderstanding, of everyone wanting to harm him or to treat him as unnuanced a person for wanting to be something else...... was to transform into a paper dragon, more unquestionable than a normal human boy who loved drawing pictures of the sun-

The boy who loved math looked at the folded piece of paper in his hands, now he held the answer to the riddle of the prince, and he'd look to the sky to see the dragon flying above him like an endless kite. And he'd smile up at the dragon, scrunching the paper star in his hands. And hed whisper, I love you, I know you. I see you .

And he could have sworn the dragon smiled back at him.

[1000sunnygo]

Hi, I'm the asker with the SJ magazines. I do have those bonus pages! I uploaded them here (tinyurl/3w5ssa3b) & on imgur (/a/EUYFaMt). They're part of a bonus segment included in the volumes - I wrote about it on the wiki (/One_Piece_School#Bartolomeo's_New_Wo_Student_List), but it's pretty short since I can't read it. And no need to force yourself for other chapters! I'm happy for anything OP to be translated, no matter the amount. Similarly, would you want any future Law/School stuff?

😭😭😭😭 THANK YOU!!!!

woah these are some great details??

Longpost ahead, here's a summary of Bartolomeo's New World Middle investigation notes!

SH and friends' favorite school subjects

Luffy and Zoro: Physical education

Nami: Science, Maths, Geography

Sanji: Physical education, Home economics

Usopp: Art

Chopper: Science (Health)

Robin: History, Linguistics

Franky: Chemistry, Engineering

Brook: Music

Vivi: Japanese language and literature

Coby: (Currently improving in) all subjects

(Buggy is mad about not being included ha)

Classroom Layout

The four free seats are for students who randomly join from other grades and classes (ie. Hancock). Upper left features a special corner for Uta to join virtually. (She can also sit beside everyone randomly and make friends, as shown at the bottom)

Yamato is contemplating about where to seat after transferring to NW Middle, Luffy says "come join us ASAP and let's have fun at school!*

Luffy senpai's relationship chart

Other than ones I've previously translated, here are the rest:

Barto -> Luffy: "LU-LU-LU-LU-LUFFY-LUFFYYY SENPAI!!"

Luffy -> Barto: "Do you know me?"

Croc -> Luffy: "I can take you on a great adventure. So come to my side."

Luffy -> Croc: "You come to MY class! (?)"

Kaido -> Luffy: "I'll push you down the pits of hell."

Luffy -> "Try me whenever you want!"

Kaido -> Yamato: "Become Oni Middle's representative!"

Yamato -> Kaido: "I've joined Straw hat Luffy's class!"

Yamato -> Luffy: "I'll stop Oni Middle and then get to your class!"

Luffy -> Yamato: "I'll wait for you in the class!"

-

Luffy -> Sabo: "A really kind big brother!"

Sabo -> Luffy: "Take good care of your friends!"

Ace -> Sabo: "You coddle Luffy too much, man!"

Sabo -> Ace: "And you worry about Luffy just as much, don't you?"

Luffy -> Ace: "Ace is strong!"

Ace -> Luffy: "Huff.. what a high maintenance little brother!"

Lucci -> Luffy: Don't violate school rules!

Luffy -> What is 'school rules'?

Smoker -> Luffy: "All you do is stir more trouble!"

Luffy -> Smoker: "I enjoy the school more than anyone!"

Garp -> Luffy: "I trained your ass off to make you a strong teacher!"

Luffy -> Garp: "I don't wanna be a teacher!"

Luffy -> Aokiji: "He's a cool teacher! Probably!"

Aokiji -> Luffy: "Well.. try to get along with everyone, would you.."

Backpack Sneak peek

Doing the entire page for this one.

Uniforms, emblems

NWS has relaxed rulings on uniforms. Boys are allowed to wear whichever shirt they want under their gakuran, girls can choose the color of their scarves. Teachers have their uniform too but Aokiji (probably all teachers) don't really care.

The section below are rejected school emblems proposed by students. Aokiji was lazily okaying all of them but Smoker kept him in line lol

Luffy's Design

Luffy: The meat turned out lookin' really tasty, right?

Coby: Isn't it an assortment of Luffy san's treasures?

Usopp's Design (the Kanji says "New")

Usopp: Well, this is how it'll turn out if it's Me to decide.

Nami: Great drawing but too self-assertive!

Robin's Design (She wrote "New" and drew a world. Perfect)

Chopper: Scary! What's this? Why a face??

Robin: It's cuter like that.

Chatroom photos

Lowkey contemplating about lettering all of them but I think I've kept the ask hanging long enough 🙈 These are adorable!

Lack of source has always been frustrating, but I don't think Law has a lot of extra contents to miss out on 😩 If I find something I'd like to source-check, I'll make sure to knock you, so thanks again! ❤️❤️

[somaticknitter]

Nein Again rewatch C2E01:

Matt really is just foreshadowing so much already

that is the most high pitched cockney accent Sam could have picked my ears god

Where is my Caleb widogast who is this American man

"maybe it's a little hafling person" ah. I See.

Jester my beloved 💙

lmao the laughter as everyone reveals their character accents

Ah basic math the enemy of ttrpg players everywhere

"you smell" "I have only just met you" "hi I'm jester!" I love them your honor

Caleb talking with the others for 5 seconds:

Mollymauk Tealeaf my beloved 💜

The amount of fast talking charm from molly is so funny, the multiple scams trying to happen within the party within minutes of meeting

They really said fuck the elderly

"Caleb are you going to the academy too :D" *kill bill sirens going off in Caleb's head* "...ha. ha. that's silly"

Caleb's face during the academy conversation is killing me

"...and then I gave it up for a while" CALEB (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠)

Caleb & Nott I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR "you saved my life...I only wish I had more"

Nott immediately drawing her short sword over cards 💚

"I'm sorry I took all your friends money" "maybe give some of it back?" "why tho??"

The awkward beat of silence after fjord asks if Nott and Caleb have anyone after them

"oh that's cool and gross!" Yeah I'll incorporate that into my vocabulary

I FORGOT CALEB HAS A MAX HP OF 12 AJWHWJAKA ah wizards

Everyone likes jester, as they should

"will you hold me through the show" BEAUREGARD

bring your own cushion from home like a normal person

Love Liam (and marisha) taking notes while matt narrates the performance genuinely so in character of them lol

Caleb your lawful evil/true neutral is showing in this fight

NEIN

"it's going to make a swing at mollymauk-" "yeah no" god I love dnd

honestly forgot the first fight was zombies thought it was werewolves for a sec lol

Wooh level two

Trying to loot during active combat Nott the brave ily

M9 fumbling this crownsguard interaction so hard

"are any of us high charisma?? Because it don't seem like it"

I have an intelligence of 14 I know what I'm doing

Caleb's stillness when the Cerberus assembly get name-dropped is killing me he's really having a PTSD filled fucking day GODDAMN

Yasha pulling a runner is so funny 🖤

Honestly most ND group of adventurers

[pingunaa]

i know i did this like. onky a few days ago but i wanna do it again cus i actually have real stuff to do now that im pushing away lol

10 notes: i will vacuum my room

20 nites: repaint my nails lol

50 notes: do more drawing!

100 notes: - build my new shelf notes

200 notes: i will fix my bed

250 notes: i will do my math assignment due 9th of august hehe

500 notes: i shall get the hairuct i rlly need

750 notes: i will go on a thirty minute walk everyday

edit> forgit one lol

[haologram]

get to know me! 🍀

i was tagged by many people, but only remember @seungkw1 atm LOL note: if you were tagged and are looking for it, it is likely at the bottom! feel free to scroll past to see what was pinged for you <3

what's the origin of your blog title? i love xu minghao. that's about it <3

favorite fandoms? unfortunately, i have been neckdeep in fandomland since i was a kid, and i've been across many different ones. currently: enhypen, seventeen, stray kids, ateez, got7, monsta x, bangtan...lots of 'em 😭 but i am also into some games, a lot of show fandoms and such.

more under the cut!

otp(s)/shipname? oi vey...i am BALLS deep in jeongcheol land 😔 however, i do love wonchan and i am an avid enjoyer of verkwan. i just like people having fun i guess...if they kiss that's their business and idgaf !! (and you shouldn't either 💘)

favorite color? contrary to the color i've chosen for this tag game, i am a purple fiend. i love purple and i've loved purple since i was 5 years old. borahae, putas.

favorite game? video game wise, stardew valley! everything else...idk, i like jenga. i like...uno. monopoly. i fuck bitches up at monopoly.

song stuck in your head? million years ago by adele, my i by svt junhao, pink pony club by chappell roan

weirdest habit/trait? uhhh i'm not sure! probably that i make a lot of weird little noises for no reason

hobbies? writing, singing, dancing, drawing, makeup, cooking, baking, sewing...i just like making stuff LOL

if you work, what is your profession? i currently work at a pharmacy! but i am also a med student :)

if you could have any job you wish, what would it be? a novelist, or a songwriter.

something you're good at? making people laugh

something you're bad at? driving 💀

something you love? music. my faith. my family, the homies. i also love shoes and fashion.

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff? southern barbecue. have done it before, will do it again!

something you hate? i am incapable of hatred (people who refuse to change after issuing bullshit apologies.)

something you collect? photocards but not currently. i also like collecting jewelry and blankets!

something you forget? nothing. i have a very good memory, which is both a blessing and a curse.

what is your love language? i like to recieve & give gifts. however, i am also very fond of quality time and often indulge in parallel play with my friends. physical touch and i are not very good friends but if i am dating someone, it is very important to me.

favorite movie/show? so many! law & order svu, 2 broke girls, bob's burgers. as for movies, i love it, brave, mulan...the list goes on. i love films.

favorite food? anything my mom makes. i am a very finicky eater and i rarely eat at other people's homes.

favorite animal? cows!

are you musical? yes! i come from a very musical father, he loves to sing and dance and i am the same, however it is a very big part of my personality and i love to involve other people in singing with me and such.

what were you like as a child? i wanted to be cool :( i wanted people to like me! but aside from that, i was a very loud kid with introverted interests. i read a lot of books, i used to do speed reading competitions, and i struggled with a lot of things outside of the realm that i am willing to talk about. however, i was also a very anxious child who wanted to be liked and did everything she could to make that happen. as i grew older, i was bullied a bit but there is a lot of dynamics that play into that that i don't really want to get into. but, i wish little me knew she'd grow up to be pretty cool, anyway.

favorite subject at school? art and biology!

least favorite subject? math. i have dyscalculia.

what's your best character trait? funny, honest, confident.

what's your worst character trait? talks too much, anxious, selfish is 50/50.

if you could change any detail of your day right now, what would it be? nothing! i'm about to go to bed! :)

if you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? my grandparents.

rec your fave fanfics (spread the love!): i will never shut up about favorite coworker by @sescoups (I'M SORRY JOSIE I CANNOT SHUT UP ABOUT IT!!) other fics i love and never stop reading over and over: - fake it til you make it by my angel tara @diamonddaze01 - orbit & perspective by my beloved tomogotchi @tomodachiii - hi (i love you) by my sweetest rania @wheeboo - rivers & roads by my dearest @miniseokminnies

tag others to complete (no pressure!): @wonuwoe @heechwe @be-my-sunrise @hanniesbrat @c-oupsie @wooahaeproductions @wqnwoos @bitchlessdino & whoever else wants to do it! say i tagged u <3

[varusai]

⭐️Get to know your mutuals⭐️

⭐️ Tagged by @elvenmoans

this took me forever to fill out i kept forgetting it in my drafts. oops😔

⭐️ What's the origin of your blog title?

blog title: ☆ ฅ^•⩊•^ฅ ☆

i was looking at a big ass list of japanese emoticons, don't even remember the specific one i was looking for, but came across this one ฅ^•⩊•^ฅ and???? hello??? its so cute???

i never know what to title my stupid blog so i just put that there because it makes me happy to see her.

⭐️ OTP(s)+ shipnames(s):

i’m on the oc shipping train rn but for regular non oc ships we got

moonsea tyrants (manshoon/ fzoul) - the forgotten realms

gideon/harrow/ianthe (any combo) - the locked tomb

farcille (falin/marcille) - dungeon meshi

durgetash (the dark urge/enver gortash) - bg3 (only default hot white dragonborn durge tho, i don’t care about any of that custom character shit)

scar/lex - AVP (i’m having my annual resurgence of this ancient fixation. it will pass soon)

⭐️ Favourite color:

black, but since a lot of ppl consider this a non answer/cop out, purple. i have a particular soft spot for ultraviolet purple.

⭐️ Song stuck in your head:

Thnks fr th Mmrs - Fall Out Boy

i heard it on the radio yesterday after not hearing it for a long time and now its stuck

⭐️ Weirdest habit/trait:

i think this is more of a question that one would need to direct outward, not self-assign. like i talk to myself and consider that both find and normal what the fuck do i know about what counts as a weird habit lol

⭐️ Hobbies:

mainly playing dnd right now. playing dnd and thinking about The Characters. i also write and draw sometimes. i just never finish anything. I’ve also been reading a lot more this year, which has been nice. and I do/learn math for fun, but idk if that counts as a hobby? i'm gonna count it because i do it often enough.

⭐️ If you work, what's your profession?

i got some chronic conditions during covid and was fucked up and disabled for a while in addition to being really depressed. i'm on meds now and its getting a little better but now the job market is fucked so i don't have a job job rn and i just do gig work and temp jobs when i run out of money. usually admin, tech support, tutoring, or doordash. kinda just depends on what comes up.

⭐️ If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

tbh i kinda already had my dream job? i was a physicist doing research on planet formation. undergraduate level, but it was a paid position so technically i made it. i do hope to go back to it one day when i'm not mentally and physically fucked up, but considering the state of the world now def doesn't seem like the time. unfortunately.

⭐️ Something you're good at:

befriending cats. i’ve literally never met a cat that didn’t like me. even stray cats. i’d like to think i’m pretty good at art too.

⭐️ Something you hate:

capitalism. i also hate driving, temperatures higher than 80F, and the human head, neck, back, and nervous system. mine specifically.

⭐️ Something you collect:

pens and notebooks/office supplies. which was fine when i was in school/doing research/teaching but after??? i would have ended up in some trouble space wise if i hadn't started playing dnd lol. now i can use my stuff again for my notes/game binder :3

i also collect dnd dice sets✨

⭐️ Something you forget:

i'll forget anything that you can ask me a question about out of nowhere. my brain is never stupider than when i'm put on the spot😔

⭐️ What's your love language:

talk to me about something that i'm obsessed with. especially like fic/character/dnd/oc worldbuilding. and especially if we're working on it together. if you can get to this stage you're prob in for life.

⭐️ Favourite movie/show:

The Thing (1982) is my favorite movie ever i watch it literally all the time.

big shout out to the Alien franchise and LotR tho they're tight runners up.

my fav show fluctuates a lot more, but i gotta say just based on rewatch value How Its Made takes it easily.

⭐️ Favourite food:

panda express orange chicken and chow mein combo with crab rangoons, that exact order

⭐️ Favourite animal:

cats or seals! literally two of the cutest animals to exist.

⭐️ What were you like as a child:

undiagnosed and strange

⭐️ Favourite subject at school:

science! i literally took every science class my small town high school had and was still losing my mind

⭐️ Least favourite subject:

government & economics.

yawnnnn

⭐️ What's your best character trait?

knowledge seeking & creative.

⭐️ What's your worst character trait?

asocial & irritable

⭐️ If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

add about 3 to 4 more zeros to my bank account balance

⭐️ Tagging: @twilight-alchemist @sunnidaydreamer @voxiferous @sunsetfields @zarnitza @darkeecofreak @shadow-djinni @overcaffeinated-paranoia @roosterzebra @inadvisablyappliedmagic @bi-colored-corn @revasnaslan @a-la-orilla-del-rio @minigenos

i know a lot of y’all already but its still fun lol

[studywithmith]

Introduction

Heya it’s mith! This is a nickname from my original name. I am Tamil and I’m from the state of Tamilnadu from south India :)

This is a study or/blog about my life as a CBSE student where I’ll post about motivation, any interesting topics and just tips that I found useful. I am planning on posting my 11th chemistry notes by the end of this year, once I’ve finished typing them up as I’ve hand written them! So you will see resources being posted!!

I am a high-school student, 17 years old ( year 12/ 12th grade )studying in the science stream. My subjects include —

Physics.

Chemistry.

Mathematics.

Computer Science (python)

English

Why a studyblr?

I opened this studyblr in order to stay productive and help others to do so too if I can. Also through this account I would like to share bits of my student life and motivate other students to do what a student should do like - study and enjoy life. I will post a lot about how to get motivation and how I study certain subjects and these posts will update as I go along!

Any competitive exams?

I am doing four exams ( sobs) which are for design and architecture respectively. These are NATA, JEE paper 2 ( this includes, maths, drawing and aptitude , not physics chemistry and maths ) , UCEED ( design) and NIFT ( design)

Future career?

I am hoping to study design or architecture and maybe get a literature or business degree as a side goal.

Any goals for 2025?

I wanna learn foreign languages such as Italian since it’s my current obsession. I’ve already learnt a bit of French so I’m planning on learning all of the Romance languages, so you will see me post about language learning too!!

More about me:

I was born in England and I’ve lived in India and England on and off, every few years I’d shift to England and then come back to India. I did my boards (10th) in the uk in the form of GCSEs. GCSEs are usually done in 10th and 11th so I’m repeating a year again in India so it’s easier for me for my 12th boards!

For Quick Navigation:

study blogging!

Tagged as #studydaily- it's where I post about my daily study logs.

study_plans!

Tagged as #study plans - it's in the name lol. It's where I post about what I'm gonna do to keep myself disciplined.

motivation!

Tagged as #motivation - to keep myself and you motivated! :)

litblr!

Tagged as #litblr - for literature and any other interesting topics

questions!

Tagged as #questions - just some questions lol!

know me!

Tagged as #know me — it's in the name :p

NATA and JEE2 help

Tagged as #NATAandJEE2 - where I post about the architecture exams and general tips and resources

UCEED and NIFT help

Tagged as #UCEEDandNIFT - where I post about the design exams and general tips and resources

Language learning!

Tagged as #languageblr - I post about my progress in learning languages, this will be separate to my daily logs so i won’t post whatever I learnt in languages in my daily logs. I might create a separate account for langauges alone!!

Tips

Tagged as #chemtips, #mathtips, #phytips, #Cstips and #engtips - these tags are specifically for tips that I’d found useful sharing in that particular subject! You can also use the tag #tips to find all the tips and tricks in one go!

Notes!

Tagged as #notetaking- as I have said earlier, I am planning on posting my chemistry notes by the end of December once I’ve finished typing them up and making them colourful to read. This will be free Ofc, and it does follow the ncert pattern.

Well nice meeting you, maybe drop a comment so that I can know you too?

( note: the template for this introduction was heavily inspired by another blogger! pxasee , do check her account out too!!)

I'm hoping for the best to happen and also working for it!! <3 Show some support please for this account and have a great day/ night!!

[newtthetranswriter]

could you write yuta x reader, just a cute college au with maybe a jealous juts at or party or a study session in the dorms fluff? please and thank you if you want lol

Pairing: Yuta x gn!reader

Word count: 2076

A/n: Hey thank you for requesting this. I had fun writing it. Yuta is one of my favorites so it was nice writing for him again. I hope this is what you were hoping for, I’m not sure if I really captured the Jealous Yuta but I tried. Also the college part is implied, it worked best for me to leave them in the normal jjk world with curses and stuff but I tend to write with the mindset of everyone is aged up to college age, so hopefully it works for you, Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

It’s the Friday before exams which typically means a weekend long study session. Each time we do this a different member of our group is chosen to host in their dorm, this time I’m the lucky one to host our crazy group. Study sessions with this group always go wrong in some way, be it because someone ends up spilling something over everyone's books while being dumb cough Panda cough, or if anyone falls asleep they get a lovely drawing on their face courtesy of Toge. But I'm determined to make this session go on without anything going wrong.

You see, I have a foolproof plan to make everything go well. No drinks near books, no dips or sauces, and definitely no pens or markers. I gathered all the supplies we would need, that also wouldn’t pose a problem to our study session. Colored pencils instead of highlighters and pens, flash cards, chips, drinks in spill proof containers and an abundance of paper towels just in case.

“Welcome to my room, now put every pen and marker or anything that can be used for vandalism in this box. Take a seat on the floor and then I will go over the rules.” I said holding out a lock box as I greeted my four friends as they entered. I received a disgruntled look from Toge as he begrudgingly placed all his writing utensils in the box.

As everyone took a seat in a circle on the floor getting out their books, Panda paused for a second before piping up, “Hey wait what do you mean rules, and why are the pens and markers being locked up.” Toge nodded in agreement, being upset about having his favorite weapons taken from him.

“Well you see, everytime we have a study session someone causes trouble. There are three rules for this weekend. One, if a drink can not be sealed with a lid, is to stay on the table. Two, no dip or sauces around the books or note pads, if you want to snack it has to be at the table. And finally all the pens and markers are locked in this box which only I know the code to, as no one here needs a temporary tattoo on their face.” I said with a slight glare at the cursed speech user.

“Makes perfect sense but what are we supposed to use for color coding if all the markers are locked up?” Yuta asked, looking at me with confusion.

“Colored pencils, I picked up a bunch and there’s a pencil sharpener in the middle if its needed.”  I responded while sitting down between him and Toge so we could start our study session.

We were currently all studying for our math exam, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to look at Toge who was writing something down in one of his notebooks after confirming that he had my attention. He had a slight look of confusion on his face as he wrote out his question.

How do you solve this equation again, letters in math don’t make sense at all. I smiled gently before grabbing my own set of notes to explain how to solve the problem. What I failed to notice was a certain sword user was looking at us. I didn’t see the hint of envy in his eyes as I leaned close to our friend to teach him the math problem.

After about another hour of studying math we all decided to take a short break, we all moved to the small table I had in my room to eat some chips and drink some energy drinks cause we all knew it was going to be a long night. While drinking my rockstar I started a conversation with Toge, just checking to make sure he understood the material we were studying after I had helped with his previous question. I once again failed to pay attention to the other things happening around me, as Yuta was once again watching the interaction between me and our friend.

It seemed that even though I missed the look of jealousy flash across his face, a certain green haired woman definitely saw it and decided now would be the perfect time to have some fun.

P.O.V switch (3rd person)

Maki wasn’t normally the kind of person to meddle in other people's lives but when it came to embarrassing Yuta, that was fair game in her mind. He just made it so easy. Watching the look of jealousy flash across his face as two of their friends talked about math two feet away just lite a fire in her mind and she just wanted to poke the bear.

“Hey Yuta” she said, tapping his shoulder pulling his attention away from the two friends. “You think Inumaki and Y/L/N would make a good couple? I mean they get along so well, and Y/n seems to understand Toge perfectly despite his limited vocabulary.” She asked, trying to get a reaction out of the shy boy.

“Ummm- I- I’m not sure, I mean maybe, I don’t see why not” Yuta hesitated as he scratched the back of his head nervously. Maki could hear the slight sadness in his voice as he forced himself to agree.

“I mean I wouldn’t be surprised if they were secretly dating already, he’s had their attention all night, They have barely even spoken to any of us but him.” Maki continued trying to get more of a reaction out of the poor boy.

Hearing the conversation Panda also decided it was time to poke fun at Yuta. “Maki’s right Yuta, I haven’t seen Y/n this focused since Gojo let us pick anything in the mall for him to buy.”

Yuta turned back towards his two friends who were now chuckling about something he hadn’t heard. “You guys are probably right, they look really happy together.” He said with a frown before moving back to his seat in the circle of textbooks and notes. After everyone had got done snacking they all moved back to the floor to keep studying.

P.O.V back to first person

After another couple hours almost everyone had passed out on the floor of my dorm. It was getting close to three in the morning so it was understandable, but what shocked me most was that me and Yuta are the last two awake. Normally Yuta is the first one to fall asleep and fall victim to Toges trash doodling, but I guess having his weapons taken made the light haired boy not care about being the last one awake. I’m still confused as to why Yuta was awake but I brushed it off as him just wanting to study longer.

I was almost done with a note card for our history exams when I heard Yuta clear his throat. I looked up at him prompting him to say what he was going to as the look on his face said he wanted to say something.

“I- Is- urgh- Is there anything going on between you and Inumaki?” I stared confused at my friend as he asked one of the weirdest questions I’ve heard in awhile.

Finally gaining the ability to process thoughts again. “What do you mean, Me and Toge are just friends, where is this coming from anyway?” I asked, really confused as to why yuta would think I liked Toge that way. Sure he was a great friend but that’s all he is to me, a friend. If I liked anyone it’d be Yuta, he’s sweet, caring and always knows how to cheer people up.

“W- well you guys seem really close, and you’ve spent most of the night chatting with him, and it’s like you can understand everything he says even though he doesn't speak normally.” I watched as Yuta started to get flustered. “I-i just assumed you liked him, and I mean it’s fine if you do, I was just curious.”

“Yuta there is nothing going on between me and Toge. I’ve been chatting with him all night because he’s dyslexic and was having trouble with the fact that some math problems have letters in them.” I said, trying to explain myself. “And as for understanding him, I’ve known him for a long time, I’ve learned to use context clues when talking to him. If everyone is having a happy conversation, he’s probably also trying to share in the joy. He also will text or write down stuff he has to say that he can’t express properly with onigiri ingredients.”

“Okay that makes sense, but when everyone was eating you guys were laughing there’s no way you were laughing about an algebra problem?” Yuta responded, still trying to figure everything out.

I blushed slightly, I know exactly what he’s talking about. When we were all up getting snacks, Toge had written a message in his book about the fact that he thought Yuta had a crush on me because he keeps staring at me; I was laughing because I thought it was absurd, there’s no way Yuta likes me. I mean yeah it’s weird that he seems so concerned about the status of mine and Toge’s friendship but he’s probably just being protective.

“Oh, Toge was just telling me about something stupid that he watched one of the first years do earlier.” I said, trying to brush it off. But I guess I failed at hiding the blush on my cheeks because Yuta didn’t drop it.

He looked at me skeptically before grabbing the abandoned notebook that sat by Toge’s sleeping face, Flipping through to the most recent pages. I tried to reach for his hand to stop him but I was too late. He was already reading one half of my previous conversation.

“Yuta, you shouldn’t be doing that, it's Toge’s book, put it back.” I tried to reason with him as I watched his eyes widen as he continued reading Toge’s comments to me about finally confessing my feelings to the boy with cursed power that was only second to that of Satoru Gojo.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting for his reaction Yuta just set the notebook down and smiled at me. “You know, he was right, you should have just told me sooner. It would have saved us both some trouble and I would have been able to do this a lot sooner.” He said leaning closer to me. I was about to ask what he meant but I was cut off by the feeling of his soft lips meeting mine. It was quick but still conveyed every emotion neither of us had the courage to put into words.

As we pulled apart Yuta looked into my eyes, “I’ve liked you for a while now, if you don’t mind after exams are done I would love to take you out for lunch some time. I-if you want to t-that is.” And just like that he was back to the stuttering mess I fell in love with.

“Yuta, I would love to go out with you.” I responded standing up and grabbing his hand. I pulled him up and stepped over our three friends, passed out on the floor and moved to my bed. Normally when these study sessions turned into sleep overs, everyone would sleep on the floor except the person who’s room it was, but I figured fuck it. This is my room and if I want to cuddle with my new boyfriend, I will. “Come on we should really get some sleep” I said as i sat down on my bed sliding towards the wall to give him space to lay down with me.

“A-are you sure, I mean I'm fine sleeping on the floor. Plus won’t they think it’s weird if they wake up and we’re sharing your bed?” Yuta asked, a massive blush on his face as he slowly sat down on the edge of my.

“Oh stop worrying about it, just lay down and sleep. We’ll deal with them tomorrow, they’ll find out one way or another. Also it’s my room. I make the rules, if they don’t like it, well sucks to suck.” I said pulling him to lay next to me. Realizing I’m serious, Yuta finally relaxes. I let out a relaxed sigh as I cuddled up to him and finally let sleep take over.

[flynncorvus]

Hazbin & Gravity Falls - Sketch

(CW: Badly drawn Valentino, but Big floof. Angry and yet sassy Vox. And a drawing of 291212! A lot of notes, I like to annotate my drawings because thoughts. Avid fan of both these shows! Posting this while listening to Eyes on Me lol- We love ParanoidDJ)

The first image is all of them, then close ups of my favorite drawings here on this page.

Yes, I drew this in Math Class again. Idk man, something about being in math makes my fingers drawing happy.

See what I mean by lots of notes? Don’t worry, Imma do a transcript for yall <3

Anyway, I love these characters. Yes. I have realized I have a thing for villains. I realized it when I wanted the villains to win when watching Disney movies. They’re all just so amazing I love villains so much-

TRANSCRIPT

VOX -Grumpy Voxxy -Why is he angy? -Have urge to draw shark tail -Ignore the shoes -Samsung TV -#AngryVoxTechBoss

VALENTINO -Very sleepy boi -Why so smoll face -No thoughts rn -Bigggg floof

291212 -He’s going to join the top hat gang -BILL CIPHER -291212

MISC -All these top hats -Practicing cross hatching WHOO -(100% that humanoid) -<3 ya broshimiskies -“Great Wind God Aeoulous(spelling oof), I don’t know if you know this, But our path to home is blocked by an impenetrable storm~” -“Stooormm~ STOOOORRRMM~” -It’s raining. Fuck the rain. (Not sexually)

[yoiku]

was organising stuff yesterday and happened upon my stack of school papers and ended up reading through them again. Last time i read them 4 years ago when i was hoping to get tested/evaluated for adhd, and i felt like they had some important notes in them to -maybe- help with that. reading them again now, a couple years after getting diagnosed as audhd i feel like i'm seeing plenty of i dunno, rather clear signs that something was up with this kid and nobody else than a few teachers cared.

for my first and second year of school, the papers don't have numbers/grades for subjects, they're more like notes on what i was interested in and good at and what not, and some additional notes. 3rd through 9th year have grades + small notes. not sure if this is still a thing, if it is, i think its great. just grades wouldn't really tell much. Some of these aren't really indicators of anything neurodivergent, but when you put them all together its a whole other deal. 1st year papers says two things that are gonna be repeated through all of them subject-wise, which is that i've shown both skill and interest in art class, that i seem to enjoy doodling/drawing... and that I really struggle with maths. Now that's all fine, but the additional notes say: "you often seem quite tired" "you spend a lot of time spacing out and chewing pencils" "you know how to write(cursive) beautifully if you just focus properly". what stands out to me the most now is the tiredness. a 7 year old who seems constantly tired? i don't remember being tired but i feel like that's something that maybe should've been looked into some more. -shrug- 2nd year papers kinda echo the same things for the most part, the additional notes say that i'm very well behaved (meaning quiet and calm) and that i need to pay more attention to subjects that i'm not as interested in as well. 3rd and 4th year are almost like copies of eachother notes saying stuff like "you forget your books or homework often" "you need to keep focus longer". 3rd year was when english classes got added and there was a note about me being being quite interested in it, lol. (I've got a secret source for the interest and its vidya gaems.) My grades are still kinda evenly spread to 7's and 8's aside from art and english being a 10 and maths being a 5 (our grades back then were then from 4 to 10, 4 meaning failure and needing to retake the class) 5th and 6th year are also very similar, there's a notable shift in the grades with my interests staying great but the rest dropping by a number or two. The notes say: "you've occasionally shown great skill across different subjects, you should believe in yourself more" "you pronounce english words naturally"(??? huh xD) "you seem lost in your own world often" "you were absent a lot through the year, the reason for that should be investigated" My grades in years 7 to 9 got even more divided between interests and non interests, my art grades remained a 10 until the end (lmao) and i got good grades(9 or 8) in home economics&cooking, music, crafts, electronics&computers and english, while all the rest(math, swedish, finnish, chemistry, physics, history&civics, biology, geology, theology, sports) were either 5 or 6, so my average was at a solid, "satisfactory" 7 :'D the additional notes through my entire high school were stuff like "you don't speak enough" "you need to be more actively part of class" "you are absent a lot" "you need help with maths"(funny, was never offered any help with maths though, lol) "you have skill but rarely show it". I dunno, to me adding all those up really makes a pretty nice package that says Likely Neurodivergent on it, especially if we add how things were outside of school as well. But it was the 90's and deep in the countryside, so neurodivergency wasn't even a real thing in most adult's minds. Some hyperactive and unruly boys were labeled with having adhd, but even then most people seemed to think that those kids are just not disciplined enough by their parents. The usual. So while it feels baffling now, its also no wonder nobody picked up on it in my case. I know thinking over and over about the past is pointless, but its really hard to also avoid at times. my life could've potentially been -very- different. but that doesn't necessarily mean it would've been better. Deep down i liked school though. i liked learning new stuff. I wish i would've gotten more guidance and encouragement for it.