#Get introductions to algebra

[ce1estiall]

come over

summary hopkins!paige x classmate!reader cramming for finals, so you decided you needed a studying break. masterlist

warnings fluff

celestial notes quick fic during my study break for finals 😅 enjoy :)

“and im crying out for anything, and the thought of something else

oh, i know you want to take my hand

so come over and dance.” come over - le sserafim

finals were something everyone has been dreading. you could feel the freedom of summer just around the corner, but not when your grades were on the line.

procrastination was your worst enemy, as you prioritized your happiness until the pressure was on at the last moment possible. however, this didn’t affect your schooling as you were a student with a 4.0.

paige on the other hand prioritized the athlete in student-athlete. she was constantly in the gym, most of the time being the last one to leave when it was pitch black outside. however, she still had amazing grades, which made her receive that offer from uconn.

you and paige met in ap lit. first week of school and transitioning into each of your classes, getting to know your teachers and any new students you haven’t met before. you sat down in your seat which was near the wall. music blasting in your earbuds in your right ear. you leaned your head on the wall and closed your eyes, already exhausted from the first week back attempting to find temporary relaxation. you didn’t feel as recharged as you thought you would by the time school started.

paige sat down, messy bun with a nike headband, with blue hopkins women’s basketball nike tech.

“hey! i’m paige” the blonde waved. you shot her a faint smile. “hi.” you introduced yourself to her briefly, as you didn’t see her before.

“cat got your tongue?” paige teased, laughing at her own joke. “nah, i’m just playing. how was your summer?”

you broke out of your shell just a little bit. still somewhat quiet, but putting yourself out there. “it was okay. i slept a lot, but went to the beach and watched the sunset.”

she was intrigued when you started talking. paige loved your voice, it soothed her worries like a cozy warm blanket in the middle of winter. “i love the beach, it’s so relaxing. i love hearing the sound of the waves crashing and the birds chirping behind. and the view? you can never beat a sunset at the beach. like at all.”

you both let soft giggles hit the air as the bell rang, signaling the start of class.

the teacher introduced herself and the class. saying how it was challenging, but it will help you in the future on how to make your writing solid. your teacher assigned a project based on the book that was assigned over the summer, in cold blood.

when the teacher said you could choose and work with partners, paige’s ears perked up, then she turned and smiled at you. a smile like the cheshire cat growing from ear to eat

that one little introduction and project that you and paige did with each other changed everything. you both became closer, and stuck like glue. she was the other half of you that you never discovered.

it was the early evening, the night before your algebra 2 final, and you were cramming, attempting to memorize formulas left and right as you gulped down a red-bull. lofi music played elegantly in the background as a lavender scented candle burned in the back, temporarily gifting you some zen from the scent. after what seemed like 700 practice problems later, you were burnt out. you called paige, praying she would give you motivation during a study break.

you picked up the phone and called her. she was on speed dial as she was one of your favorite contacts.

the phone rang 4 times until you heard a faint “hello?”

“paige.” you said in an anxious tone.

she seemed concerned, knowing you never called her out of the blue. “what’s up? what’s wrong?”

you sighed deeply from the stress that was on your chest. “i’m studying for my algebra final and i’m so fucking stressed. i feel like i’m about to lose my mind.”

silence temporarily took over. “i’ll be there in 5.”

“wait wh-“ was all you could managed to get out until she hung up the phone on you.

what seemed like seconds, you heard the buzzing of the doorbell and immediately knew who it was. you ran downstairs and pretended to act shocked when you saw the basketball superstar already in front of your doorstep. you saw the keys in her hands, knowing she drove herself here.

“what did you do? fly down the road?” you looked at her as if she were crazy.

paige laughed. “pretty much.” she entered the house and took off her slides, closing the door behind her, running upstairs to your room before jumping on your bed. a sunset light dimmed to the ceiling, fading from purple to orange and yellow. “damn this room just feels stressed.”

she got up from the bed as you sat down back at your desk, notebooks and pens scattered. she walked to your desk. “alright, what are we working with?”

“this.” you handed her the review packed, and her eyes widened as she sat back down. she was scared for you, and she wasn’t even in the same class. “yeah i’ll be praying for you.”

you gave her a sarcastic response. “thanks for the help paige.” you pushed your chair backwards towards the bed, so you could talk to paige. “i’m so fuckin’ stressed.” you head fell into your hands as you groaned. paige however knew you too well.

“okay well, how long have you had the review? and how long have you known when your final was?”

you looked up at her, guilty, knowing her lecture was about to come. “um….” you words faded like the candle slowly burning out. “two weeks ago..”

paige sighed with disappointment. paige was older than you, so of course she acted like she was the boss of you. “do i not get on your ass to do your schoolwork earlier?”

“okay i have a good excuse this time! i was too busy on my art final.” you scooted back to your desk, pen in your hand as you decided to get back to studying.

“okay here. take a breather and relax for a bit.” she patted the bed next to you.

you got up from your desk, sitting on the edge of the bed close to her. a little too close. “breathe in with your nose, out with your mouth.” and so you did, repeating it a couple of times until your leg stopped shaking from the worries. paige heard your breathing as the lofi stopped. just the both of you filled in a room with silence.

paige was magnetic towards you. you fought every urge just to not feel her touch, but you lost that battle. you rested your head on her shoulder as if it were a pillow. you arms wrapped around her neck as if you were a sloth, you didn’t want to let go of her.

her hand found your waist and rested gently there. “shhh. i got you.” her whispers faded your concerns away, as if you never had any in the first place. her fingers found your hair, gently raking your scalp through your brown curly hair. “it’s okay, i’m right here.”

you lifted your head up and looked at her icy cold eyes. they could freeze anything in sight. her pupils dialed when she saw your face. her hand trailed to yours, eventually interlocking fingers. she rubbed slow and gentle circles on your hand.

“don’t let your mind start racing and worry about anything and everything. just stay in the present right now. i’m right here.”

her words made you fluster on the spot. cheeks grew pink, and a smile started forming on your face. the way she spoke and anything she said to you was like a bandage that immediately cure you.

she smiled back at you, staring into your hazel eyes. she couldn’t stop herself from wanting you.

she placed a small peck on your cheek. it caught you off guard. you closed your eyes and enjoyed the way her lips felt on your cheek. smooth and soft, filled with loved.

she got up from the bed and sat at your desk, grabbing your notes. “here, let me help you study baby.”

baby, you could get used to that.

[icarus-suraki]

Bleep bloop, bleep bloop!! [Not Really] New Conspiracy Theory Alert!!

A number of TikTok kids have decided that the AG/GATE (Academically GIfted/Gifted and Talented Education) program in elementary school was aaaaactually a government screening program for viable MKULTRA candidates.

Questions/speculations from believers include:

"Do you remember much about what you did in the GATE program? Was the classroom in a separate trailer with the windows all covered? Did you go on these weird field trips to, like, government offices? Did you do things with these weird computer programs? Were you given tests and puzzles to solve? Did you have to put on these big over-ear headphones and listen to these weird tones and say what you heard in them???"

I suspect this will tie (or already has tied) into the "targeted individuals" conspiracy theories and the "Monarch Project" conspiracy theories (that one involves reincarnation, time travel, and fighting aliens on Mars!).

Gang, I was in the AG program in elementary school in the early-mid 90s and, believe me, I remember it. It was in a trailer classroom, sure, but that was because all the "regular" classrooms were taken up by, you know, regular classes.

And the whole idea behind the program was to keep the kids who tested out of their grade level in certain subjects occupied while the rest of the class proceeded at the typical pace. So the handful of us who tested out went to the AG trailer and mostly played Legos and Othello or did lateral thinking puzzles. We did some introduction to algebra (which I recall frustrated the hell out of me because language was definitely more my strength). We did some computer programming with the Logo language (the turtle program), as I recall, and once we each created an imaginary country with a government, culture, map... And the teacher had a bunch of these absolutely hideous puppet toys called Boglins that we absolutely loved and we'd sit there, doing whatever activity, with these monstrous things on our lap, like latex rubber pets. (Their eyes would bling with these switches inside their heads, which was the best ever. Wink, wink, wink. I linked to a picture of the blue one because that was my favorite.)

As for the "big over-ear headphones" and "weird tones," my dudes, that was a hearing test with an audiometer. Source: my mother is an audiologist (and speech-language pathologist) and she'd get my brother and me to check her audiometer from time to time. I am very familiar with those tones and, bonus, I have really sensitive hearing. Hearing tests are administered to children in public schools the same way vision tests are administered: once a year for the first few years of school to check for physical issues that may impact learning. There's zero suspicious stuff going on there.

There's no MKULTRA screening, no weird stuff, no suspicious actions, no "targeting," none of it. The program was intended as enrichment for students who would very likely be at loose ends in class otherwise.

Anyway, tl;dr: the "gifted kids" were already regarded as special; there's no need to super special yourselves. Just accept the "gifted kid burnout" and try to live with it.

[itspheenixbaby]

introduction

🎶 now playing … honey - erykah badu

for years i avoided scripting “world changes” to my desired realities because i knew it would fundamentally alter my culture and the state of the world in general. if you take away racism, you dont have rap. if you take away colonialism half the world doesnt have a lingua franca. since i got my shifting “start” on tiktok, my decision to keep the world the same was seen as “wrong” or “bad”. when it was anything but (at least from my pov) all i wanted to do was preserve the culture(s) that i had come to love so much.

but eventually either the peer pressure or just curiosity got to me, and i decided. what the hell, sure. lets get rid of every traumatic racial or social event thats still an issue in the modern day that i can think of. and thank God i caved, because the world i ended up building is ten times cooler.

(i only script this in realities where it probably wouldnt matter either way. like its not in any of my marvel based realities because the usa’s historical events are so deeply tied to all their plots to me itd feel weird to take it out. but for most of my desired realities set on earth, yeah this is our history.)

(i also never try to make the world perfect but what id describe as a “semi realistic good-ending”)

for the rest of this ramble, keep in mind when i say “america” or “american” im referring to both north & south americans. like how you’d say european or asian. if i mean to say united states of american 🇺🇸 , ill probably just say yankee(s) or yank(s). just because my familys jamaican and thats what they call us as slang lol.

alternate history, aka historical algebra

🎶 now playing … agua de beber - astrid gilberto

some people just script “racism didnt happen”; “the us is different/fairer” or “slavery / indigenous genocide didnt happen” but im very detailed. so that just felt like a cop-out. and all events are instrumental to shaping the cultural, social and even economic landscape of all my cultures. therefore, i had to come up with a way to get a mostly similar afro-america, usa & jamaica while re-doing all cultures major past atrocities. but how do you do that? well its pretty obvious. injustice and our cultural traumas didnt just pop up out of no where, so you have to change the history. if you build a home with a crooked foundation, obviously the entire house will be lopsided.

because both north and south america already have similar histories, it wouldnt get the effect i want if one nation was unaffected by colonialism/slavery/indigenous genocide and every other one was or vise versa. so any historical changes would have to be pan-continental.

indigenous-americans

to set a steady and mostly ethical foundation, indigenous culture unfortunately couldn’t be too much of the same. i considered making it that native americans and settlers were just harmonious, but like…realistically, even if they did okay it, who wants some random mofos just strolling into your land and establishing themselves? not me. especially not without indigenous americans holding the same power / advancement in general. you could still reasonably have some kind of racial tension, even if you scripted out racism. and again, i know in some countries esp south america, indigenous-settler relations in the past and the modern day arent as abysmal, but hell if im going all out scripting for a handful of countries why not include everyone? like what the hell, sure.

anyways in my desired reality, indigenous americans keep most of their fundamental culture. but unlike our reality, they were all *extremely* advanced. especially compared to the other four populated continents. characteristically they were a curious people, which is why their educational systems, economics & problem solving were ahead of their time. one example of this is the PCT.

the PCT isnt its going to be the “official” name, but im terrible at naming things, so were going with that. anyways, PCT stands for Pan Continental Transit. it was established in around the 1000s. the PCT is exactly what the name implies. its a road (not a literal modern one, think like the silk road) that goes from canada all the way to argentina. it includes the major carribbean islands too, so nobody gets left out. the PCT transported items, people and ideas across both continents at rapid paces. which will explain ; north & south americas extreme advancement levels, the lack of resistance to cultural exchange & the vast intelligence of the people.

other than the PCT, another key example of the curiosity of indigenous americans was their growing degree of influence. instead of europeans “finding” the americas, indigenous americans “found” eurasia & africa. they especially traded and interacted with western europeans and western africans. this interaction lasted a few hundred years before immigration waves began in the 1500s-1700s. in my desired reality, immigration was a natural step following cultural interest instead of an intrusion.

footnotes / effects ;

indigenous americans mingled with other cultures already, so foreign disease wouldnt have killed off their populations.

indigenous-american culture is respected and rightfully mainstream.

there was no reason to war with indigenous people, and it likely wouldve gotten shut down quick due to their advancement & control over both continents.

african-americans

african-americans, in my desired reality alternate history left africa and resettled in the americas on our own jurisdiction. so then what drove us out of africa? i came up with a few sensible reasons. those escaping tribal conflict and exiled rebels were a large amount of the resettlers. an interest in american education / ideas was also a driving force considering the intellectual power of native americans in this au. and since in my desired realities african-americans were seen as equals, a desire for financial opportunity also drove immigration. and since as i mentioned before native americans frequently interacted with west africans, immigration was already feasible.

pan africanism continues to exist in my desired reality, but it formed in a different way. thats where liberia comes into play. because the amount of west africans leaving the region caused an economic slow/drain, large amounts of west africans returned to africa and formed liberia. slowly but surely, the nation began to thrive. the prosperity trickled down to other west african kingdoms/nations/city-states turning liberia and the general west-african community extremely financially successful. in my desired reality, liberia continues its economic brilliance to the modern day. boasting one of the worlds best economies and largest populations. (mostly west african / african-american though).

footnotes / effects ;

african-americans & africans arent treated or seen as less than by other races & ethnicites.

african-american & african culture is respected.

african-americans mostly have african surnames.

african-americans have always had ethnic or racial pride and known our history.

asian-americans

a. so just for funsies, i scripted in a whole ethnic group. i didnt have any clue what to call them, so i pulled the name “jiuyuan” out of my ass. this group set history as the largest wave of collective east asian immigration out of the continent. with estimates of six million individuals leaving asia for the americas. so, whyd they emigrate? well…its complicated. a chinese former military general formed a new religion/mindset. this religion, yuanism, was cut throat and brutal with remnants of witchcraft/shamanism. it was thought to have been causing a stir across asia. so its practitioners were generally shunned from mainstream society. since they had difficulty finding work and adjusting to society, a vast majority turned to maritime based occupations. this continued for a few hundred years until the exiles began. by taking advantage of decades of maritime knowledge, jius fled persecution in east asia and resettled in the americas. particularly the carribbean, central america and coastal south america.

b. i scripted this change for the dumbest reason. i wanted to keep the name “west indies”. so i scripted in another important group of asian americans ; indo-carribbeans (who, yes, i know already exist in our original reality) but in my desired reality, they didnt come to the americas because of english colonialism/labor. indo carribbeans arrived in large quantities to various carribbean nations (including non-english/patois speaking ones) from western india in the 1500s. would be the second largest wave of immigration from asia to the americas, at around four million. they were merchants, aristocrats, pirates and traders. but they were already so well established and so integrated into carribbean cultures before the cultural solidification of europeans that the region was named “after” them. which in my desired reality is why the carribbean is also called the west indies. (clever, aint it 😉)

european-americans.

europeans still emigrate to the americas for the same reasons, but their effect is extremely different.

european-americans would have more cultural similarities with mainland europeans and possibly more syncretism with indigenous and african cultures in general.

instead of slave labor, you might’ve had very wealthy families or individuals relying on a non-race-based system similar to european feudalism to farm crops in southern states / fertile countries. or mining, entrepreneurship, military, local government & trade/shipping (majority directly tied to mother countries / europe). and even then, none of those would be european dominated.

footnotes / effects ;

no jim 🐦‍⬛, encomienda system, white washing, anti-race mixing or wh1te supr3macy. (censoring bc tumblr might not let me post)

nationality is seen above race in their communities.

most slurs including the n-word probably wouldnt exist.

colonialism

yes, i kept in colonialism. how else would we be speaking english/spanish/portuguese/dutch/french? but it does run differently. i mentioned this system in another post, but europeans were only rulers in name. in actuality, it was locals (of all races, including european) that were running the show and typically more concerned with their own agendas than loyalty to the motherland(s). (P.S, i wonder if when i shift this would cause an “untrustworthy american” stereotype in european media 🤔) this is also the case for asia & africa but even more so because there were less europeans & bigger populations in most of those countries.

naturally colonies did adopt some aspects of european culture including; language, christianity/catholicism, art forms (such as visual arts, music, films, dance & sports) and cultural beliefs, including those spread from movements such as the enlightenment. all with varying degrees of alteration and syncretism.

race

european-americans / europeans wouldnt be able to establish racism (which fun fact was partially invented to pit the poor against each other in our cr 😍 i love rich people), and any attempt would obviously be obsolete because in this reality each race has no reason to not be seen equally.

another non-factor is the classification of race into categories like “black”, “brown” or “white”. while in my base reality i dont find an issue with these terms, i dont think itd be realistic in this context. color based terms would likely be seen in the same way as how asians & indigenous people see the terms “yellow” or “red”. what i figure would actually be the case is either continental or region based ancestral classifications. and even then i figure the classifier level would prioritize nationality, followed by ethnic group and finally any broader racial categories.

(if you peruse my page, you’d see that in my idol dr me and most of the members of my group are classified in accordance, if an example is needed)

and thats it for the americas. now onto things i scripted for other regions/countries/continents or just the world in general. this is a lot more general because im jamaican-american so i dont know jack shit about any other nations histories to feel i should change anything (or even have a place to), but here it goes ;

most stuff is made regional/domestic. aka not everything is from china! literally only because i miss seeing “made in usa” or even “made in mexico” on things :(( like switch it up.

everywhere would be classified as a “first world country” by my original reality standards.

europe as a whole still has hella lions.

women & men have always been equal.

east asia is slightly more advanced than the rest of the world.

more places maintain “traditional” architecture styles. i heard in some european countries they dont build anything thats not cohesive with the older buildings and i was like, why dont we all do that???

the principal monetary system might not be capitalism (or communism, for that matter) i feel like i made the world so different im unsure if itd even still “work” but it might be idk.

and now, here goes the rapid fire intended cause & effect round explaining why the historical changes i scripted matters, if its unclear. but im no historian so i could be inaccurate on some things.

no indigenous genocide & thriving pre colonial pan-americas -> all nations in north/south america have further opportunity to become economically stable & explains the continents diversity without decimating an entire population.

pan-american road -> pan-americanism spreads, usa / canada is less likely to play “big brother” (or even be able to) with other north & south american countries. yankees automatically become like way less xenophobic/racist/isolationist because they never were.

global first world + peaceful status -> less over immigration from foreign countries to the west because there isnt a need to. more immigration in general because of cultural interest/work/school, but from everywhere to everywhere. less need for war & conflict because theres less injustice. less racism & xenophobia because no groups can be seen as literally having less. more technological & economic advancement because of a higher education rate.

fem/male equality always -> more technological & economic advancements because of an always larger work force. better mental health because gender norms (while they could still exist) wouldnt be nearly as intense on both genders. possibly more peaceful politics / social scenes because of more nuanced perspectives being highlighted and masculine energy wouldnt be a status quo.

no racial hierarchies -> no systemic racism in general. ameircan or european racism / xenophobia doesnt exist much less spread to other regions and continents.

weaker colonialism -> while europe & the west in general would still be extremely culturally & economically dominant, other regions and even entire continents would be on the same level….and the term “the west” might not be used? whats more plausible (even though its dated downnn in this reality) is probably old/new world.

more stuff made domestic/regional -> more equal financial clout. higher global production power. less unsafe work conditions. and more employed people everywhere.

europe still has lions -> europe just became like ten times cooler???

fun fact im lowkey planning a 1600s-1700s carribbean / american / yankee dr based on this alt history. itd be FUNN. and you just know the carribbean piracy golden age would just be bat shit insane too. also sooo excited to see different countries take on fashion, since the euro influence wouldnt be as universally strong.

and old hollywoods gonna be way more diverse so that’ll be cool to watch.

[bittersuitejacobs]

• an unhealthy obsession • Nate Jacobs •

three. knignt in shining armour

Summary: In which Ophelia is making friends with the right people in order to finally get the attention she's been craving from the person she wants. She ends up getting much more than she'd anticipated.

Warnings: heavy drinking, implied obsessive behaviour, manipulative behaviour.

A/N: 5022 words. here this is. It's crazy how much i write about this fic/these characters compared to how little I've published. Anyways here's a fun headcanon I have; Nate's favourite Saw movie is Saw 3D, but it will change to Spiral after Spiral comes out. Ophelia's is Saw 6 because her favourite trap is the shotgun carousel. Neither of them care for any of the Child's Play movies. 😌 This has no relevance on the plot of the fic, just a fun fact. lov u.

{ masterpost }

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

---

More eyes are upon her now, but she's so used to keeping her head down. It's an urge she has to temper, despite how strange it is to stand out, she's dressing the part, she fights the habit she has of making herself blend into the background.

Ophelia has to get comfortable of making a spectacle of herself, at least until the right eyes are upon her.

And what better place to be loud than in a sea of people all cheering along?

This is where she allows herself to be loud. The cheering is done at the top of her lungs, even - especially - for the cheerleaders.

"Yeah Cassie! Yeah the girls!" She hollers with glee and a wide, unabashed smile. Cassie, in formation, wears a pleased little smile, eyes searching the crowd for the source of support. Upon seeing Ophelia's grin, Ophelia's eyes trained on her, her grin widens. Ophelia sees the cheerleaders aren't the only ones who noticed. Nate, who'd been talking to the coach of the football team - his dad, Cal, if Ophelia wasn't mistaken - while the rest were warming up on the field, pauses, and looks at her for a long moment. Ophelia catches it in her peripheries as she continues to cheer and clap for the cheerleading team. She pretends she doesn't see him. But her heart leaps at the thought that he'd noticed her amongst the crowd.

That following Monday at school, Cassie once again recognises her at lunch where she's sitting with Lexi, Rue, and Jules. Rue and Jules are caught up in conversation between themselves, but Maddie gives Ophelia a curious look. Cassie's stopped beside her to talk to her and Lexi. She invites Ophelia to hang out after the next game - so long as the team wins. However, smug smile on her face, Maddie assures her that with Nate - her boyfriend again after their recent break - as quarterback, they surely would.

Ophelia rolls her skirt in the bathroom before her next class, shortening the hem by another inch and a half before algebra. Nate looks bored in the back of the classroom when she swans in before the bell rings. Until he recognises her. She pretends not to see him, and sits, as usual, at the front of the class by the window. Tucking her pen behind her ear, she spends these few moments looking engrossed in her phone. His eyes burn into her; she can feel it. He's at the back of the room, same row as her. When she looks around, pretends to be searching for something, their eyes meet. A sunny but otherwise blank smile graces her features, but her gaze quickly moves on, fixing on a poster on the back wall. The signifier of a pleasant disposition, but also indicating that she didn't really think about him, or know him. The kind of smile a cheerful individual would give a stranger.

Nate didn't look away. Nate frowns, but it's not unkind, it's more... Thoughtful. Nate watches her.

Ophelia has caught his eye.

Ophelia starts giving Maddie and Cassie smiles wherever they see each other, always with a warmth and sincerity that indicated familiarity. Cassie gives a proper introduction after cheerleading practice walking home together. Ophelia lies and says Cassie's house is on the way to hers when it decidedly isn't, but she'd been at this practice for this specific reason. She wants to know Maddie better, wants to be closer. Most importantly, she needs to put herself in Nate's orbit. So she admits she uses the cheerleaders for figure practice, shows a few select pieces, and Maddie and Cassie take her compliments exactly as she'd hoped.

They want her around, and she's more than happy to oblige.

Often Ophelia sees Nate in passing when she's with Maddie - they're on right now in their on-again-off-again thing. He doesn't stay long, and he never really talks to her, but maybe that's because every time he's around Cassie makes a point of ignoring Nate in favour of Ophelia. Like she's using her as a social buffer, a shield so she doesn't have to think about the quietly disdainful or leering looks Nate gives her. Even Ophelia notices, but she also knows Nate doesn't look at her like that. But he does look at her, even if she never meets his gaze if she can help it. She's done watching. She likes being watched now.

She makes sure she gives him something pretty to look at.

Her skirts are always pastel, and she's shortened them. She's invested in thigh-high socks and the kind of mascara that could withstand a hurricane. Her sweaters always match her skirt but in a rich, jewel-toned version of the colour that's desaturated on her lower half. Small backpack, blue binder for her notes, she carries all her books for the day in her arms, stacked on top of her binder. They make her seem smaller than she is - quite the feat considering her petite frame. But her sweater and the silk, floral button-down shirts beneath cling delicately to the ample chest her mother blessed her with and cursed her for.

Ophelia knows how to make herself and object of desire if she so chooses to.

And now, she most certainly is choosing to.

Cassie fawns over her wardrobe and doll-like features and heart shaped face. Rue gently mocks this friendship, but Jules calls it sweet. Says Ophelia's style is so cute, so sweet, so - she gets a text and checks it giddily. Rue and Ophelia share an exasperated look; Jules' phone has been interrupting them a lot lately.

The next football game she attends, she makes sure she's in the front row of the stands. The scrunchies in her pigtails are in the school's colours, and she opts for pale, blue denim short-shorts over black leggings and a cream, silk button-down with little, lilac flowers on. The dark blue denim jacket she'd pulled out of one of her father's boxes in the attic absolutely dwarfs her; the sleeves almost swallow her hands, so when she cheers and claps, she looks so small yet so bright. Jules tells her she looks cute. Rue had said she'd rather die than go to the game when Ophelia had invited her along too.

Cassie gives a playful wink to her in the front row as the cheerleaders join the field, and Maddie even gives her a wave. The cheerleaders are there, warming up the crowd, in preparation for the teams. Jules mutters that Nate is an asshole when she catches him looking over at them. Ophelia knows he's been glancing over at them since he'd been on the field, but this is the first time Jules's actually noticed. Ophelia let's herself properly look at him, lets him see her giving him her attention. He looks away swiftly. Ophelia asks idly how she knows him. Jules's expression pinches at the question before she admits that he's the drunk asshole who threatened her at McKay's party the other week.

Ophelia looks to her, eyebrows raised. Knowing what she does of Nate, she's not exactly surprised, but she is curious. What had set him off? Jules doesn't seem to know either, but she has her theories, she tells Ophelia with a scowl.

"But I also feel like he's the kind of guy who would go off for no reason," Jules muses, looking back out to the field, "Rue says he's always been a dick." Ophelia looks back onto the field, considering this new and unfortunate information. Nate is warming up with the rest of his team, no longer paying them any attention.

"I don't know much about him, honestly," Ophelia lies, voice soft and contemplative, "I've never really paid him any attention."

It's easier to compartmentalize this new information and enjoy the night rather than dwell on it. Jules is good company, and as soon as she feels Ophelia's energy, she matches it. They both cheer at the top of their lungs, beaming, and Jules laughs when she admits that she doesn't think she'd care at all about any of this if she wasn't swept up in the hype alongside the rest of the crowd and Ophelia.

But when their team wins, and Ophelia asks is Jules wants to come to the celebration Cassie had invited her to, she can't deny quick enough. There's no way she'd be caught dead near a drunk, victorious Nate Jacobs if she can help it. While Ophelia pouts, but ultimately tells her she understands, and that she hopes Jules gets home safe, she's ultimately glad. She has a feeling that things could get complicated with Jules around.

So Cassie, Ophelia, and Maddie get a ride with one of the other cheerleaders to whichever footballer's house was being celebrated at tonight. Maddie scoffs that even if they won, that didn't mean anything for her and Nate. Ophelia remains quiet, observant, cataloguing all these interactions for future reference.

Maddie and Nate are in one of their off periods apparently. Why, Ophelia isn't sure, but she doesn't look this gift horse in the mouth; she's just glad that complication is already resolved before her night really begins.

This party is like so many she'd attended before, but now she's by the side of these girls who garnered the spotlight. Now people were looking at her like she belonged there with them. Still, she played the role of the wallflower forced to bare their stares. The others talk to their classmates, and Ophelia slips into the crowd the moment she gets the chance. Ducking and weaving through the crowd, she makes sure Nate sees her without letting him know that she'd seen him, avoiding him in the heart of the noise and revelry. In the kitchen, she gets herself a cider and pointedly ducks past him as he was entering the room, like the whole affair was overwhelming enough that she hasn't even realised it was him. He calls out pointedly - hey - in a way to try and catch her attention, but it's not her name, so she's got enough plausible deniability.

Somewhere in the middle there she takes off her jacket and pulls the scrunchies from her hair; at a glance, or from behind, she doesn't look like the girl who arrived at the party earlier in the night.

Finally she sets herself up on the back porch, after spending a good half an hour bouncing between the edge of the dancing inside and the kitchen, doing her best to avoid Nate or Cassie or Maddie while pretending not to. Sitting on the railing, on her fourth drink, she's watching several footballers trying to start a bonfire. Smoking a cigarette, she waits, but didn't have to wait long. Nate drinks and gets high on occasion, she knows this, has seen him do so at several other parties where he'd never even been aware of her existence or attendance. But he doesn't smoke. It's Ophelia's only other vice. She hopes it doesn't put him off of her, but for now she's willing to take that chance. She'd consider quitting for him, but not before they'd even had a conversation.

Ankles crossed, she catches Nate leaving the back door in her peripheries, passing her without even registering her on the way to the others by the bonfire. There's a frustrated energy to him, despite the brightness with which he greets his friends. She thinks she hears someone laugh about 'Maddie being a bitch again' a few minutes after they finally get the fire going, and Nate rolls his eyes, taking another sip of his drink. Ah, mystery solved. Dropping her ashen cigarette butt into the garden below, she takes another sip of her drink.

Nate is distracted. Watching him is so familiar it's almost comforting, and though she knows she's been refraining as part of her plan, there's a relief that comes with it. Like the nicotine in her lungs, being around Nate makes her head spin, and she'd missed that feeling. His friends barely notice that he's more frustrated than usual, but Ophelia does.

And then he sees her. This time, she doesn't immediately avert her gaze. For a beat, he frowns, but there's a curiosity in his eyes as he finally registers her, and in the next moment, Ophelia looks down, opening up her little purse and pulling out another cigarette. Holding her cider secure between her knees, she keeps her focus on the task at hand, clicking her lighter to life. When she raises her head, he's still watching her. Only when she raises her eyebrows at him in amusement does he look away.

It couldn't be nothing, just a singular, fleeting moment. But she feels like it's not.

Still, she doesn't approach him. She wants him to be the one to cross the space between them, to prove all her effort hadn't been in vain.

Instead, she pulls out her phone and checks her Instagram DMs. People are loving her latest painting on her story, a rather twisted, almost eldritch version of a character from a horror web series she adored, covered in blood. Even though most people didn't know who he was, they appreciated the artistry. Getting caught up talking to her father about his day - he's in Munich for Oktoberfest - she actually doesn't notice that she has company until they ask what she's drinking. Ophelia gives a start, but then there's a hand on her shoulders steadying her before she can fall. When Ophelia looks up, it's Nate.

"What?" She's actually caught off guard, and has no idea what he asked. He asks her again with an amused grin, and Ophelia notes that he seems far less irrate than before, "cider," but when she pick up her bottle, she realises it's empty.

"You want another?"

"Sure," she says slowly; her confusion is genuine, but so is her gratefulness. He takes her empty bottle too, and tells her he'll be back. He's still smiling; Ophelia can feel her heart beat in her throat.

It's happened. First real contact, and it had taken her completely by surprise. Quickly texting her dad that she'd talk more with him later, she shoves her phone back into her bag and finished the last of her cigarette before Nate rejoins her.

When he returns and hands her the drink, she thanks him sunnily, taking a sip as he moves to lean on the railing beside her. Silence lapses out between them for a few moments as they both watch the bonfire, but Ophelia steels her nerves and is the one to break it.

"You played well tonight," she offers easily. Nate's grin widens, even though he doesn't look at her. There's something shark-like in it, something suddenly hungry. So Ophelia ducks her gaze, acting vaguely abashed; she knows he can see her in his peripheries, "though you always do." Quickly she picks up her drink and takes a long sip.

"Ophelia Chase likes the way I play," he laughs quietly, sounding rather proud, and Ophelia feels herself flush. How is he the one surprising her?

"Nate Jacobs knows my full name," she snickers, trying to remain casual. It seems to work, as he finally looks to her, giving a noncommittal hum for a moment before deciding to explain.

"We have class together, of course I know your name," he pointed out, "Miss Chase," and there's no missing the flirty notes in his voice as he mimics the way their teachers would identify her. Then, for a moment, his expression twists just a little, "and you're Cassie's new, little friend." She knows what he means, knows she's friends with Maddie too. But Ophelia refuses to push on that particular point tonight.

"Didn't realise you paid so much attention to who Cassie was friends with," instead she gives him an abashed smile, but Nate's charm is relentless.

"Only when they're worth paying attention to."

It feels like a dream. He's flirting with her, making her blush, smirking at her in a way that only means trouble. She has to look away as she mumbled that she's flattered. Maybe it's that she underestimates his charm, or overestimated her ability to handle it. The buzzing of Nate's phone drew his attention and gave her a brief reprieve, but the tension returns to him as he reads whatever the message says.

"It's everything okay?"

"It's nothing," he mutters dismissively, glancing over his shoulder to the back door. It's Maddie, inside, still probably mad at him.

"Don't feel like you need to stay here," she assured him gently, her smile understanding, "I'm sure I'll be fine." But Nate slips his phone back into his pocket, bracing his hands on the railing as he leans against it.

"Did you really come here just to be by yourself?" He teases, and Ophelia feels quietly vindicated by the fact that he'd noticed, but pretends like that hasn't been her intention all night.

"Well my friends don't smoke," she laughs awkwardly, fidgeting with her drink before she takes another sip.

"Then why do you?" He's regarding her with curious intrigue, "you don't seem like the type."

"I wish I wasn't the type," she sighed, leaning back a little too far. Even if she doesn't show it, she definitely enjoys the way his gaze turns the faintest bit concerned as he watches her on the railing. Without a word, he shifts closer, hand coming to rest, solid and warm, on the small of her back. He's trying to be casual about it, especially when Ophelia sits back up straight, but she doesn't let the moment go, "thank you, Nate," she mumbles softly.

"'s fine," he responds easily, shrugging and retracting his hand. His focus is once more on the fire, expression pensive, "why are you here, Miss Chase?" He asks in a way that's so carefully casual it sounds like a trap. When Ophelia plays dumb, looking up at him with wide-eyed confusion, she sees the strange, little smile he wears. But he refuses to look at her, "you say you're just out here because your friends don't smoke, but I don't think you want to be here at all."

"I don't know what to say to that," Ophelia admits with a soft laugh, "what makes you say that?"

"All night, it seemed like you're avoiding... everyone," it's incredibly telling, Ophelia thinks. He'd noticed how clearly she'd been avoiding him all night, but didn't want to sound presumptuous.

"Are we including now?" She can't help but giggle, and something in her chest lights up when her remark makes Nate huff a quiet laugh. Then, however, he looks down, he meets her gaze; he's curious.

"I think you're being polite because I got you a drink," he tells her frankly, "do you want me to leave you alone?"

Absolutely not.

"Why did you get me a drink?"

"Wanted to ask why you were staring at me just before."

"Was I staring?" Ophelia's eyes widen with faux surprise, "I didn't- I'm sorry." After a moment she ducks her gaze before looking over to the bonfire where she'd been watching him earlier. After a long moment of deliberation, she sits up straighter, clearing her throat and proclaiming she needed another drink.

It's a fine line to walk between purposefully graceful, and accidentally clumsy. Well, it appears accidental; she turns on the railing but starts to over balance. She grabs the support beam beside her, just in case, but still feels Nate brace against her back, catching her before she can even begin to fall.

"Oh," she says so softly, eyes wide and surprised as she takes her time adjusting to this situation. Nate asks if she's alright, and Ophelia tips her head back against his chest, looking straight up at him with bewilderment. Cheeks flush with embarrassment and the copious amounts of liquor she'd consumed, she mumbled, "I'm fine?" With a practiced, flustered sweetness about her, it comes out more like a question. Another moment passes, and Ophelia looks away just as Nate finally behind to smile, like he'd decided that he was endeared by her intoxicated antics.

"You want some help there?" He doesn't even wait for her answer, curling his arm around her to steady her. Ophelia makes a token effort at protesting, insisting this time that she is fine, which just makes Nate laugh quietly. Or maybe it's that she's saying all this while bracing herself against him rather than the house's support beam beside her when she tries again to turn and get back to the patio side of the railing.

"See," she recovers her composure when her feet are safely on the ground, "I told you, I'm fine," she gave a cheerful smile, as if completely oblivious to how close they were, and Nate's hand on her waist. Nate humours her, telling her he was just making sure, just in case, but there's something in his eyes when he looks her over that has Ophelia's heartrate pick up. It's almost like intrigue, something hungry there... In this moment, Ophelia had two thoughts in rapid succession. The first is that, again, he's fucking easy as hell to read. Taking care of a pretty, little thing like Ophelia was a quick way to play to his own ego.

The second, that comes in only moments later, is that Ophelia's never felt quite so small before, or maybe it's that she'd never actually realised how overwhelmingly tall Nate was. This close, Nate is overwhelmingly... a lot. But the more out of it Ophelia acted, the less inclined he seemed to letting her go.

"Maybe I just need some water," Ophelia frowned a little, scrunching up her face for a moment as she looked around. It was still loud inside, and she genuinely didn't want to go in there right now. Honestly she didn't want to leave this moment; she can't quite believe it's worked out so well. Then, she looks back up to Nate, finding her voice again, "you're one of the guests of honour," she reminds him with a giggle, "I'm sure everyone's waiting for you to grace them with your presence; don't stay here on my account, I promise I'm really fine now." Despite this, she shifts her weight so she was leaning into his grip.

"Is that your polite way of telling me to fuck off?" He teases as he gazed down at her, giving her a gentle squeeze. The moment he meets her gaze, Ophelia feels herself flush.

"I'd never dream of telling someone to eff off." She tells him with conviction, dedicating even her vocabulary to this sweet act. Nate's eyebrows rise in genuine surprise; she gets the feeling he's trying not to laugh at her.

"You don't even swear?" After a beat, he turns amused, "that makes more sense than you smoking," he admits.

"I can be both types!" Ophelia bristles, finally stepping out of his grip; again, Nate laughs. He leans back against the bannister, letting her step away, but his eyes don't leave her.

"Clearly; you're also the type to be friends with a slut like Cassie Howard, I'm sure you're full of surprises," Nate's candid harshness catches Ophelia so off guard that she takes an actual step back, reflexively frowning. It kind of feels like a test, but she won't recognise it as such until well after the conversation. In the moment, her expression falls.

"Unnecessary," she responds softly, "Cassie's nice."

"Yeah, so I've heard," Nate smirks, tone laden with innuendo. There's a shift, however, with Ophelia's unexpectedly firm defence of her friend. Suddenly his gaze is no longer on her, Nate's looking out to the bonfire again. Ophelia is craving another cigarette already; the conversation feels so far out of her depth, she's freefalling and it has her feeling nauseous.

"Maybe I need- need more than water," she fusses with the clasp of her bag, "I think I need to go home."

"Who's making sure you get home safe?" Nate asks, sounding almost purposefully casual. Ophelia isn't sure if he's hitting on her, or if it's his protective instincts showing themselves once again. When she doesn't answer, but also doesn't move, he looks back at her, explaining, "because your friends don't smoke, but we both know they also aren't the type to leave parties early." Ophelia interprets it as mostly protective, but can't help but push her luck just a little more.

"The Uber driver, I'm sure, will deliver me home, safe and sound; why? You don't have to worry about me, Nate Jacobs," And she's actually giggling like it's an absurd idea. But even if she's not consciously trying to manipulate him, she can't seem to help herself. It gets his attention, even if she doesn't see it, even if she's focused on pulling out her phone to order her ride home, Nate is once more focused on her, even if he seems aware that he shouldn't admit that he wants to worry about her. This is the only interaction he believes they've shared.

"At least let me know when you get back to your place."

"I'll send a carrier pigeon upon my safe arrival -" Ophelia's giggling has not subsided, and in fact continues until the phone is snatched from her hands, "- hey!" Her indignant yelp probably catches the attention of some of his friends by the bonfire, but she's past the point of caring.

Then she's back in his space, trying to grab her phone as well she can think about is how much evidence of her obsession the little device has. If he were to browse her photo gallery alone he could probably argue a case for bypassing a temporary restraining order against her and immediately getting something permanent. Panic takes her hostage, propriety going out of the window as she practically throws herself at him -

"Give me back my phone!"

"I'm giving you my number, calm down," Nate explains, half amused, half exasperated, holding the phone out of his reach with one hand, trying to settle her with the other. Then when she goes quiet, goes still, her intense gaze remains focused on her phone in his hand. Until she realises he's once again holding back laughter.

"What?"

"What do you have on here, Ophelia Chase?"

"Can you just put your number in so I can go home?" She pouted, refusing to step back, "I'm sleepy, and I think I'm drunk, and -"

"You're definitely drunk," Nate's lips twitch into a smirk, but he finally lowers the phone so he can start typing his number into her contacts. Except the screen's gone dark. He turns it to face Ophelia, clearly expecting her to unlock it without taking it from her.

"Why are you doing this?" She muttered, still toe to toe with him, "you're being..." but Ophelia can't bring herself to even vaguely insult him; she wants this, even if she also really wants him to give back her phone.

"You're being drunk," he tells her flatly, "I'm just looking out for you since Maddie and her friends clearly abandoned you."

After a moment to process, to settle on her reaction, Ophelia finally steps back from him, practically sulking as she insists that they hadn't abandoned her. However, before Nate can argue his point further, she distracts him by conceding, pressing her thumb to the home button of her phone and unlocking it for him.

Taking another step back, she finally gives in to her craving and pulls another cigarette from her purse. When her lighter flicks too life, she's focused on inhaling, and misses the brief frown he gives her. Silence lapses out between them, with Ophelia putting even more distance between them as pulls the hair off of her face, out of the way of the cigarette glowing where it was poised between her lips, tying it half-up with one of the scrunchies around her wrist. The other drops to the ground, but she doesn't notice.

Nate hands back her phone, finally.

"I can order my Uber now?" She huffed sulkily.

"Already have," and right as he says it, Ophelia registers that the app is open, a ride booked too pick her up and take her home to the address she'd labelled as home in the app.

"Thanks," Ophelia sighs, finally pulling her jacket on, making her unsteady way to the back door, "I'll, um, message when I'm home."

"Good," is all Nate says on the matter; he's strangely aloof as he watches her go back into the house, but after that, Ophelia has other things to worry about.

But everything from stepping back inside, to the ride home, to finally crashing into bed, is a blur. She's very nearly asleep, still fully dressed, with her promise to Nate forgotten, when her phone starts to buzz with texts. Groaning, she reaches for where she'd thrown her phone on the bed, to see a series of texts from Nate. Honestly, she only knows it's Nate because his name is in bold at the top of the screen, the messages themselves are refusing to stay still on the screen for her tired, inebriated mins. So she calls him.

"I love how invested you are in my wellbeing," she blurts out with a giggle, it's too honest by half, but when she's this drunk she doesn't care. Nate is quite on the other end, so Ophelia continues, "I thought you gave me your number, how do you have mine?"

"Called myself from your phone when I put it in," Nate explains shortly. Ophelia's giggling again, assuring him that she wasn't murdered, that she was fine, just like she kept insisting to him earlier, "I'm just glad you're safe; anyone would worry about you with the state you left in."

"And what state is that?" Ophelia can't help her teasing tone, but Nate pauses, and there's something in his voice that has heat pooling low in Ophelia's gut.

"Pretty and helpless."

"Oh."

It feels like she's burning from three words alone. Also, it's proof that despite all the unanticipated turns the conversation had taken, he'd taken the bait.

Hook, line, and sinker.

"You think I'm pretty?" She can't help the sweet notes of disbelief bleeding into her voice. Ophelia can practically hear Nate smirking on the other end of the line.

"Good night, Miss Chase."

[book--brackets]

The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien (1937)

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. Written for J.R.R. Tolkien’s own children, The Hobbit met with instant critical acclaim when it was first published in 1937. Now recognized as a timeless classic, this introduction to the hobbit Bilbo Baggins, the wizard Gandalf, Gollum, and the spectacular world of Middle-earth recounts of the adventures of a reluctant hero, a powerful and dangerous ring, and the cruel dragon Smaug the Magnificent.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan (2005-2009)

Percy Jackson is a good kid, but he can't seem to focus on his schoolwork or control his temper. And lately, being away at boarding school is only getting worse - Percy could have sworn his pre-algebra teacher turned into a monster and tried to kill him. When Percy's mom finds out, she knows it's time that he knew the truth about where he came from, and that he go to the one place he'll be safe. 

She sends Percy to Camp Half Blood, a summer camp for demigods (on Long Island), where he learns that the father he never knew is Poseidon, God of the Sea. Soon a mystery unfolds and together with his friends—one a satyr and the other the demigod daughter of Athena - Percy sets out on a quest across the United States to reach the gates of the Underworld (located in a recording studio in Hollywood) and prevent a catastrophic war between the gods.

The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien (1954-1955)

In a sleepy village in the Shire, a young hobbit is entrusted with an immense task. He must make a perilous journey across Middle-earth to the Cracks of Doom, there to destroy the Ruling Ring of Power - the only thing that prevents the Dark Lord's evil dominion.

The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis (1950-1956)

Four adventurous siblings—Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie— step through a wardrobe door and into the land of Narnia, a land frozen in eternal winter and enslaved by the power of the White Witch. But when almost all hope is lost, the return of the Great Lion, Aslan, signals a great change . . . and a great sacrifice.

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1943)

The Little Prince is a classic tale of equal appeal to children and adults. On one level it is the story of an airman's discovery, in the desert, of a small boy from another planet - the Little Prince of the title - and his stories of intergalactic travel, while on the other hand it is a thought-provoking allegory of the human condition.

The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini (2002-2011, 2023)

When fifteen-year-old Eragon finds a polished blue stone in the forest, he thinks it is the lucky discovery of a poor farm boy. But when the stone brings a dragon hatchling, Eragon soon realizes he has stumbled upon a legacy nearly as old as the Empire itself. 

Overnight his simple life is shattered, and, gifted with only an ancient sword, a loyal dragon, and sage advice from an old storyteller, Eragon is soon swept into a dangerous tapestry of magic, glory, and power. Now his choices could save--or destroy--the Empire.

Time Quintet by Madeleine L'Engle (1962-1989)

It was a dark and stormy night; Meg Murry, her small brother Charles Wallace, and her mother had come down to the kitchen for a midnight snack when they were upset by the arrival of a most disturbing stranger. 

Wild nights are my glory, the unearthly stranger told them. I just got caught in a downdraft and blown off course. Let me sit down for a moment, and then I'll be on my way. Speaking of ways, by the way, there is such a thing as a tesseract. 

Folk of the Air by Holly Black (2018-2020)

Of course I want to be like them. They're beautiful as blades forged in some divine fire. They will live forever. 

And Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe. 

Jude was seven years old when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King. 

To win a place at the Court, she must defy him--and face the consequences. 

In doing so, she becomes embroiled in palace intrigues and deceptions, discovering her own capacity for bloodshed. But as civil war threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself.

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V. E. Schwab (2020)

France, 1714: In a moment of desperation, a young woman named Adeline meets a dangerous stranger and makes a terrible mistake. 

As she realizes the limitations of her Faustian bargain-being able to live forever, without being able to be remembered by anyone she sees- Addie chooses to flee her small village, as everything she once held dear is torn away. 

But there are still dreams to be had, and a life to live, and she is determined to find excitement and satisfaction in the wide, beckoning world-even if she will be doomed to be alone forever. 

Or not quite alone-as every year, on her birth-day, the alluring Luc comes to visit, checking to see if she is ready to give up her soul. Their darkly thrilling game stretches through the ages, seeing Addie witness history and fight to regain herself as she crosses oceans and tries on various lives. 

It will be three hundred years before she stumbles into a hidden bookstore and discovers someone who can remember her name-and suddenly, everything changes again. 

Circe by Madeline Miller (2018)

 the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe is a strange child—not obviously powerful like her father, nor viciously alluring like her mother. Turning to the world of mortals for companionship, she discovers that she does possess power—the power of witchcraft, which can transform rivals into monsters and menace the gods themselves.

Threatened, Zeus banishes her to a deserted island, where she hones her occult craft, tames wild beasts, and crosses paths with many of the most famous figures in all of mythology, including the Minotaur; Daedalus and his doomed son, Icarus; the murderous Medea; and, of course, wily Odysseus.

But there is danger, too, for a woman who stands alone, and Circe unwittingly draws the wrath of both men and gods, ultimately finding herself pitted against one of the most terrifying and vengeful of the Olympians. To protect what she loves most, Circe must summon all her strength and choose, once and for all, whether she belongs with the gods she is born from or the mortals she has come to love.

[algebraic-dumbass]

hey! I'm a 4th year math undergrad in the States and I am astounded by your knowledge of algebra. it's my favorite branch of math and I know a lot more than my peers but not nearly as much as you. where did you learn? any textbook recommendations?

keep up the great mathematics and posts!

haha, well, I don't know that much algebra to be honest (me using a fancy word in a joke means i have heard of it before, not that I actually know how to work with it!)

But yknow I could give out some resources, so here they are (so far I have mostly learned from classes but yknow i'm at that point where i'm starting to need to transition from listening to someone ramble to reading someone's ramblings and then rambling myself)

For basic linear algebra I didn't learn through a textbook, but I have heard good things about Sheldon Axler's Linear Algebra Done Right and it seems similar to what the classes I had did (besides the whole hating on determinants part, though I kinda get it).

For some introductory group theory, I also had a class on it, but the lecture notes are wonderful. I would happily give the link to them here but since they're specifically the lecture notes of the class from my uni I would be kinda doxxing myself. Also they're in French. I will give out some of the references my prof gave in the bibliography of the lecture notes (I have not read them, pardon me if they're actually terrible and shot your dog): FInite Groups, an Introduction by Serre (pdf link), Linear Representations of Finite Groups also by Serre (pdf link), Algebra by Serge Lang (pdf link). Since our prof is a number theorist he sometimes went on number theory tangents and for that there's Serre's A Course in Arithmetic (pdf link). I'm starting to think our prof likes how Serre writes.

For pure category theory and homological algebra I have read part of these lecture notes. I think a good book for category theory is Emily Riehl's Category Theory in Context (pdf link). For homological algebra, a famous book that I have read some parts of is Weibel's An Introduction to Homological Algebra (pdf link). Warning: all pdfs I found of it on the internet all have some typographygore going on. If anyone knows of a good pdf please tell me.

For commutative algebra, A Term of Commutative Algebra by Altman and Kleinman (pdf link). I haven't read all of it (I intend to read more as I need more CA) but the parts of it I read are good. It also has solutions to the exercises which is neat.

For algebraic geometry (admittedly not fully algebra), I am currently reading Ravi Vakil's The Rising Sea, and I intend on getting a physical copy when it gets published because I like it. It tries to have few prerequisites, so for instance it has chapters on category theory and sheaf theory (though I don't claim it is the best place to learn category theory).

For algebraic topology (even less fully algebra, but yknow), I have learned singular cohomology and some other stuff using Hatcher. I know some people despise the book (and I get where they're coming from). For "basic" algebraic topology i.e. the fundamental group and singular homology I have learned through a class and by reading Topologie Algébrique by Félix and Tanré (pdf link). The book is very good but only in French AFAIK.

For (basic) homotopy theory (does it count as algebra? not fully but what you gonna do this is my post) I have read the first part of Bruno Vallette's lecture notes. I don't know if they're that good. Now I'm reading a bit of obstruction theory from Davis and Kirk's Lecture Notes in Algebraic Topology (pdf link) and I like it a lot! The only frustrating part is when you want to learn one specific thing and find they left it as a "Project", but apart from that I like how they write. It also has exercises within the text which I appreciate.

For pure sheaf theory, a friend recommended me Torsten Wedhorn's Manifolds, Sheaves and Cohomology, specifically chapter 3 (which is, you guessed it, the chapter on sheaves). I only read chapter 3, and I think it was alright (maybe a bit dry). I also gave up at the inverse image sheaf because I can only tolerate so much pure sheaf theory. I will come back to it when I need it. The whole book itself actually does differential geometry, but using the language of modern geometry i.e. locally ringed spaces. I have no idea how good it is at that or how good this POV is in general, read at your own risk.

Also please note I have not fully read through any of these references, but I don't think you're supposed to read every math book you ever touch cover to cover.

thanks for the kind comments, and I hope at least one of the things above may be helpful to you!

[jiraimelodie]

✩⋆˚｡⋆ 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑹𝑶 𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑻 ⋆｡˚⋆✩

This is a Jirai blog! If you feel like topics like self harm, religion and religious trauma, mental illness, abuse, etc. might trigger you, please block me and/or scroll off! (Do NOT report..) !!

Hellloo tumblr !! Welcome to my introduction post !! ^w^

BASICS (o w <) !! :

-I use alot of names and switch between them !! My current one is Saya but feel free to also call me Len, Shells, and Mayo ! (Kind of odd names.. I know ! (^▽^;) )

-I use all pronouns + neoprns, you will notice me referring to myself differently alot and you can too !

-I was raised in Saudi Arabia but Im from and live in Egypt ! (Whoah! Arab Jirai?! So cool !! :0)

-I am a fiction kin and a system ! Kins include: Sayaka Miki, Len Kagamine, Mafuyu Asahina, Kanna Kizuchi, and Komaru Naegi !! (I may not act like them here though since they are based on how I am in real life) and I’m still figuring out the system thing! I wont be posting about it here though!!

-I am a lesbian! Mostly because I absolutely hate men (well some are okay)

-I like: Talking to people, answering (most) questions, marshmallows (heavy on the yellow white pink blue kind !!), listening to people talk about their interests, drawing, candy, music, and reading/writing poetry !! (≧▽≦)

-I dislike: Yelling, geometry and algebra, most of my irls, and being accused of things I didn’t do

-Fandoms: Madoka Magica, Dandy’s World, Lacey Games, Vocaloid, Project Sekai, Alien Stage, Danganronpa !!

THINGS TO KNOW BEFORE INTERACTING !! ( /^ω^)/ :

-I might forget to reply, please forgive me if I do ;-; !!

-I can’t be moots with anyone since I’ll only follow one person, but I can still be friends !!

-My English might be bad ;w;

-I don’t mind if you’re a proshipper or profiction as long as you don’t support/do these topics in real life !!

-I am a minor !

USERBOXES !! (´▽｀) :

[credits to jiraisupportgroup !!]

TAGS !! (≧∇≦*) :

#Lucky charms! : Random thoughts!!

#Gingerbread people! : Reblogs!!

#Expired milk. : Talking about someone/thing I dislike :/

#Marshmallow twists! : Talking about someone/thing I REALLY REALLY love

#Empty wrappers : Vent tag !!

#Edible glitter! : Art tag !!

#Candy store! : Something I really like and/or want to see again later !!

#Gummy bears! : Asks !!

That’s it for now! Sorry my intro’s so messy I kept getting overwhelmed while writing it aaa ;-; ..

[positively-knotted]

Dissertationposting 1 - Motivation & Introduction

A favourite result from undergraduate differential geometry is Gauss-Bonnet, which says that given a smooth surface M and scalar curvature R,

In particular, if M has positive curvature everywhere it must be a sphere, and if it is flat it must be a torus.

This is a crazy strong result, given that (in 2 dimensions) scalar curvature completely determines the geometry of the surface, while topology generally tells you very little. So it makes sense to try to generalise this to higher dimensions. Unfortunately, this doesn't work very well. Lohkamp (1992) showed that having R < 0 everywhere tells us nothing about the topology, and we can even construct spheres with negative curvature everywhere. However, there are some interesting things that happen if you force R > 0. In fact, it has some interesting restrictions on the algebraic topology of the manifold!

We'll explore a couple of these consequences, including the wacky proof techniques needed to get there. Some bits will require more technical prereqs (never more than Hatcher + do Carmo), but I'll try to keep them separate from the more intuitive and cute bits of the discussion.

Some highlights to wet the appetite:

Well start by induction on the dimension of submanifolds until we get down to surfaces. But in a few instances "submanifolds" won't be general enough and we'll have to come up with a more abstract idea called "μ-bubbles"

"Infinite cyclic covers"

These friendly guys:

Some small original results by yours truly

[lipshits-continuous]

Relative de Rham Cohomology

One interesting thing from my dissertation was looking at relative de Rham cohomology and whether we get a long exact sequence like we do for singular (co)homology. The answer is we do and we'll go through the constuctions and results in this post!

This is covered briefly in Differential Forms in Algebraic Topology by Bott and Tu and in a bit more detail in Riemannian Geometry and Geometric Analysis (Second Edition) by Jost. However some details like the functoriality of the de Rham cohomology of a pair and the naturality of one of the homomorphisms in the long exact sequence aren't touched on. I filled in these details in my diss!

In what follows, I will be assuming you are comfortable with de Rham cohomology, the theory of smooth manifolds and a bit of homological algebra. I might make some posts in the future about these but in the meantime, I cannot recommend enough Introduction to Smooth Manifolds by Lee.

1. Pairs of Smooth Manifolds

In the more general setting of topological spaces, we say a pair of topological spaces (X,A) is a space X and a subset A⊆X equipped with the subspace topology. The key here is that the structure on A is inhereted from the structure on X. Since in general, subsets of a smooth manifolds are not smooth manifolds, we must be more careful about which subsets we choose. For what follows, we will consider a pair of smooth manifolds (M,S) to be a smooth manifold M and a smoothly embedded submanifold S⊆M. The notion of maps of pairs carries over with no issue since the restriction of a smooth map to a smoothly embedded submanifold is smooth. That is, a smooth map of pairs F:(M,S)->(N,T) is a smooth map F:M->N such that F(S)⊆T.

2. de Rham Cohomology of a Smooth Map

The motivation for relative (co)homology is to study how a subspace contributes to the (co)homology of the whole space. In a sense, it is the (co)homology of the space without the affect of the subspace. For singular homology, singular n-simplies of a subspace A⊆X are already also singular n-simplices of X and hence span a submodule of the nth singular chain module of X. So we may take the quotient Cₙ(X)/Cₙ(A) and produce a new chain complex. However, this approach doesn't quite work for de Rham cohomology since differential forms on an embedded submanifold S⊆M aren't automatically differential forms on M. If we wanted to take this approach, we would have to worry about methodically extending differential forms from a submanifold to the whole manifold. However that might get messy and perhaps might involve too much analysis. There is, however, a neat algebraic solution!

The idea is to somehow study differential forms on M whose restriction doesn't contribute to the cohomology on S. More specifically, we will construct the de Rham cohomology of a pair in such a way that cohomology classes are represented by closed forms on M whose restriction to S is exact. As in Bott-Tu, we can actually define a more general cochain complex given a smooth map F:N->M by noticing the restriction of a form to a submanifold is precisely the pullback of the pair by the inclusion. So more generally, we will define cohomology classes represented by differential forms on M whose pullback to N is exact.

Definition 2.1:

Proposition 2.2:

Definition 2.3:

Remark 2.4:

We now consider two obvious linear maps.

Proposition 2.5:

This means that β is a cochain map and hence induces a well-defined map in cohomology. Whilst α is not quite a cochain map, it's easy to check that it induces a well-defined map in cohomology given by α*[θ]:=α[(θ)]. Combining these with the pullback of F:N->M, we get a long exact sequence!

Lemma 2.6:

3. de Rham Cohomology of a Pair

Now that we have developed the more general case, we will bring our focus back to the de Rham cohomology of a pair of smooth manifolds. As alluded to in the previous section, we define the cohomology of a pair to be the cohomology of the inclusion map!

Definition 3.1:

Just as smooth maps between smooth manifolds induce well-defined maps of their respective de Rham cohomology groups, smooth maps of pairs also induce well-defined maps of the respective relative de Rham cohomology groups! This results is the first of two that is completely my own. The key to the proof is the following commutative diagram:

Lemma 3.2:

We can now show that α* in Lemma 2.6 is a natural transformation, which is the second of my two results. This along with a quick argument to show that β* is induced by the inclusion M->(M,S) will actually show that de Rham cohomology satisfies the Exactness Axiom in the Eilenberg-Steenrod Axioms.

Proposition 3.3:

You might wonder now whether we also have excision for de Rham cohomology and we do! The proof can be found in Jost's book!

If you have any questions, I'd love to chat about this (or anything else about my dissertation)!

[luvmydogzvm]

H.S teacher Spideypool AU

It’s the first day of school and Peter had just dismissed his last class for lunch. With a long exhale, he flopped in his chair so hard it spun a bit and drifted off to the right, nearly smacking him into the wall that hung a calendar dedicated to kitten scientists that was left by the previous teacher. He keeps forgetting to take it down. Till then it’s stuck in June with an orange tabby covered in ash from a failed experiment. He has no excuse why he hasn’t at least turned to the corresponding month. His head tilted back with his neck resting against the top back of the chair, staring up at the acoustic ceiling, particularly at a tile that has a mysterious orange stain.

Peter’s first class went pretty smoothly, if he does say so himself, some mishaps, but that was expected. His second class was also the same, learning from the first period, there were near to no mishaps then. The same goes for the rest of them, so why was Peter slumped in his chair exhausted you ask? Well, while he was prepared with his introduction, lesson plans, and icebreakers, he just didn’t factor in the energetic and rambunctious students. He had no idea how he could forget such a significant detail. It was to be expected really.

Peter inhaled deeply before sitting up again to let out another sigh through his mouth. “It’s your first day Peter, you knew his job was not going to be that easy.” Peter is in his late twenties and that isn’t considered to be that old, but not too young either, so you would think he could catch up with them, right? Flat out wrong, because Peter was getting up and heading to the teacher's lounge to make himself a coffee that came out watery. Using some creamer from tiny plastic cups that he scavenged from the back of a cabinet.

“Are those still good?” Mr.Rivera– Peter reads off his district I.D–asks when walking in.

“Dunno and don’t wanna. I had freshmen for the last two periods and I need anything with caffeine. Expired or not,” Peter poured in a third one before stirring it in.

Mr. Rivera sipped from his travel mug before he spoke. “Understood. Though some advice, bring your own. Coffee is shit here.”

Peter took a sip from his sticky foam cup and smacked his lips afterward, “Eugh, All I can taste is tap water and sadness.” he said, his upper lip involuntarily curling as he stared daggers at the nasty coffee.

Mr.Rivera let out a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah, it does that. I’m Abigail Rivera, 9th grade algebra,” he introduced himself and extended his arm out to shake Peter's hand.

“And I’m Sorry.” Peter said in return, taking his hand and giving it a shake. The side of his lip curled when he got a laugh from the man, “Peter Parker, 9th grade bio and 12th grade chemistry.”

Dropping Peter's hand, he rested his own on his hip. “Gotcha, you’re the newbie replacing Mrs.Newbury?”

Peter nodded while lifting his cup to his lips and drinking his coffee, which didn’t taste any better or worse. He didn't know how to feel about that.

“Her retirement was long awaited. I think she actually stopped teaching three years before and had just made the kids watch Bill Nye The Science Guy.”

Peter mirrored Mr. Rivera's stance as he lowered his cup from his lips. “Oh, Love that guy. Guess that means I’ve got competition huh?”

“Definitely,” Mr. Rivera chuckled. "They still sing his name. But don’t worry, you are young, so you’ll probably get some attention.”

“Really?”

Mr.Rivera, Peter will only ever address him because even if they are colleagues the man has gray hairs from his head to his long stubble, nodded. His aunt May have raised him right. “You are the youngest, and every teacher is married and has kids. Well, maybe not them all, but the majority. There's this one the kids really like. He's got the attitude and humor of a high schooler, so he fits in with the kids—has his own table, actually.”

Peter’s eyebrows perked. He had his fair share of favorite teachers, but he never had any that he ate with—he ate with his friends. Why am I clarifying myself? But seeing other students eating with them? Sure, but having their table, though, maybe that's a little too much.

“Talking about lunch, I'm going to head down there right now. You?”

“Nah, the Mrs. packs me one.” He dangles the most boring style lunch box known to man. Peter thinks it puts his Spider-Man one to shame. “If you see him—trust me, you will—try not to stare.”

Peter raised a brow. “Got it. Usually mine does too, but I was cutting close to being late so I couldn’t stop by any convenience stores,” Peter had finished his sad excuse for a coffee and tossed the cup into the bin that was by the door. He walked towards it, about to leave, but stopped to look back at the confused Mr.Rivera. “I’m Mrs.” He said with a slight grin and left, hearing himself getting another laugh from Mr.Rivera.

On the way to the cafeteria, Peter reflected on his interaction with Mr.Rivera. Saying he made a friend seemed a little too early to say— not to mention desperate, he thinks—but he made a good impression on someone at least, and he could live with that. Then, he reflected on Mr.Rivera. The man looked good for his age. The married man was tall, maybe a foot taller than Peter and he dressed exactly like Peter’s old geometry teacher did when he was a student. A sky blue dress shirt with navy blue dress pants that hugged his legs so snugly that Peter remembered people Mr.Rivera’s age still go to the gym. Or maybe he goes outside, he did have a good tan on him. “Lucky Mrs.Rivera,” Peter muttered to himself before he pushed through the double doors that led to the cafeteria and the noise of chatty youth.

He made his way to the canteen and waited for a student to get their lunch before he walked up to grab a tray. Suddenly, a ladle was shoved in his face, causing him to stumble back and look up wide eyed at the ladle handler.

“End of the line is over there.” She used her ladle direct Peter, he nearly ducked his head. “I ain't dealin’ with none of you line cutters,” a voice too deep and raspy for any woman told Peter. He blinked in response, trying not to falter at the sight of the large lunch lady that looked like she'd dealt with more than just line cutters. Peter had to fight his flight response, which was telling him to go to the back of the line.

Fixing his glasses, which had nearly fallen off his nose, Peter attempted to clarify himself. “Ah no, I'm not a—”

“No?” The woman somehow managed to sound deeper, scarier, and taller too, or Peter was crouching in slight fear.

He quickly patted around his breast pockets, reached into his blazer, took out his teacher's I.D., and showed the women. Swallowing before he spoke. “I’m a—a teacher! Not a student. Though I'm flattered,” he gave a nervous laugh, but it failed to be one and instead, he cleared his throat. He's 28, he should not be having a voice crack.

The giant woman leaned back and her expression changed completely. Ladle safely out of the way of any faces. “Oh! Teacher! Mr. Parker?” She read his name. “Sorry, but you have the face of a baby’s bum. Oh, but the body of a twig! You should eat more, let me serve you sweetie,” before Peter could say, “You don't need to,” a tray was shoved into Peter's hands that had what looked to be everything that was being served. “Enjoy!” Peter looked up to see the giant woman have a giant grin that flashed him a few of her silver teeth.

“Thank you,” Peter squinted his eyes at her name tag. He needed to update his prescription. “Ms. Johnson.” He looked up at her with what he hoped was a smile that didn't show his fear of the woman and turned to leave with his quite hefty tray. He darted for the double doors he entered through—hoping to hurry back to his classroom and eat before lunch ended—when he passed by a large table that was the loudest of the bunch. He stopped in his tracks and took a look because, from the side of his eye, there looked to be a real buff kid—Nope not a kid, Peter corrected himself. Just a big broad-shoulder man sitting with a bunch of teens ranging from tiny freshmen to seniors. The man’s body looked out of place from the children. His silhouette was reminiscent of an old high school bully of Peter's. The only difference is that instead of a varsity jacket and a pair of jeans, the man wore what looked like a black and red compression shirt and a matching red pair of slim-fit gym shorts. So fit, that Peter wondered if it was just barely meeting the dress code.

Oh and the obvious scarring covering every inch of the man that Peter could see, but he wasn't so focused on that. Through the patchy skin, he admired how muscular he was. Eventually his suspicions of him wearing obvious gym attire, his eyes trailed down the man's chest and Peter saw a whistle and the bright blue lanyard around his neck which meant he was a teacher and not some student. Peter mentally sighed in relief—he wasn't trying to get fired or get called ‘The Weird Teacher’ on the first day by looking inappropriately at a student.

This guy seemed more lively than the teachers he'd seen, especially himself. Maybe even more of a student than a teacher by his manners, eating with his mouth open and laughing loudly. Peter guessed the scarred man was in his early forties. He doesn't look too old, but not too young either.

Peter hadn't realized he was staring when the whole table was staring back at him. Those whose backs weren't turned were now. The tight shorts-wearing man was also looking at him blankly.

“Mr. Parker?” A student spoke up, probably questioning why their science teacher was just staring at a bunch of kids and a teacher. Peter did not blame him. He bet on his life he looked like a creep. Great first impression on his future students too, nice going Peter. And the Weird Teacher award goes to…!

Peter was about to say something, he didn't know what, but his mouth opened though the words that came next were not from him.

“You've got a problem Mr?” A male student, who was sitting next to the oh so fit-and-even-fitter clothing-wearing teacher, had stood up with his hands flat on the table as some sort of support or intimidation stance—Peter wasn't sure, probably the latter.

Now Peter is an adult, but the kid was taller and bigger than the others, even compared to Peter he was probably three of him in width. The buzz cut was not helping him look any different than a prisoner. He caught something from the boy's neck—Oh my God, no way that's a tattoo.

“What? No, no! Sorry, I didn't mean to—Just uh, couldn't help myself and noticed you were just sitting here, with them,” he cleared his throat. He jerked his chin toward the other teacher. “I was uh trying to figure out whether you were a teacher or just a special case of a super senior.” He gave a nervous chuckle, his eyes darting away as he used his index finger to push up his glasses.

Some, if not most, of the students from the table eyed him suspiciously. Peter couldn't help but notice a glint of protectiveness in their eyes and from the air around them. Could it be all these kids where this guy's body guards? He could probably take some of the smaller ones. Wait, you are not fighting children!

As Peter was trying to convince himself that he does not need to defend himself like he is reliving his own highschool experience, he saw the scarred man stand up.

“Would you believe me if I say that I get that a lot?” The man said with a grin at the end. Peter saw how the scars stretched and wrinkled at the sides of his lips. “Alright, hold your fire kids! This guy looks like bully food—I don't think there's anything you can say that this guy hasn't heard yet.”

“No Offense, Wade, but if you’re talking about the language back in your day, we can definitely think of better insults for Bobble head over here than just four-eyes.” A girl with mostly black hair and pink highlights spoke up. Peter wonders if her parents know just how much eye shadow is on her face.

“Bobble head, that's a new one.” Peter wasn't the type to over use his teacher powers and get very offended. Peter had to admit this generation was a whole new breed and he couldn’t help but be impressed...

[jordanraye47]

Team e-scope headcanons

Eva unintentionally dresses like a f-boy. Like with all those gym clothes someone will confuse her with some mf named jason or Lucas.

Also she most definitely had short hair. Like a pixie cut or smth. Goes along with the f-boy thing.

Despite how much Noah reads, he can go to a bookstore store, buy 8 books and read like 2 of them before deciding that it’s time for a new trip.

Speaking of bookstores. Noah has taken izzy to a bookstore with him. He has never seen her read a book, or anything in fact. But it ended with her trying to recommend him books rather than her taking any books for herself.

And it’s the most random ass books known to man. She’ll come up to him and it’s like a book of algebra formulas and say like ‘did you know that i read this in middle school, yeah, it was really boring though. Except the introduction, i read that multiple times.’ idk she’s a weird girl.

Speaking of izzy. This girl can not tan for the life of her. Like she can live in spain or ecuador and only get this absurd amount of freckles. (i will reblog with a pic cause i can’t add it here for some reason [it will be the end of me i swear tumblr hates me])

Izzy js like ‘turns off’ at some points. Like not passes out, she js goes completely quiet and acts completely normal and calm for like an hour and it creeps everyone out.

She also said in total drama that she had psychosis in the total drama after math. And psychosis is a trauma developed disorder (taught from my physiologist) but literally no one knows what it came from. Like not even herself, it just came at one point according to her.

Noah definitely lets his hair grow out, mostly because without noticing himself. It’s usually his mom who cuts it but she practically drags his hair out of his scalp when she does so he tires to avoid that. Resulting in him having long ass hair. Like not as in pony tail hair but we’ve all seen his hair on total drama.

Izzy has gone to the gym with eva before but izzy does nothing but just walk around and use whatever she finds for her whatever she wants. Like she definitely somehow found monkey bars out of nowhere. (And she’s strong as fuck, we’ve seen her on TDWT she’s strong. But nobody knows how she exercises, and she refuses to tell.)

And they have a group chat i just know it. And Both noah and eva are the driest texters known to man. They will not use emojis even if their life depended on it. And i feel like izzy is either extremely dry or so dramatic all her texts turn into a greek play. She’s either like; ‘YALL GUESS WHO I FUCKING FOUND‼️’ or ‘i found a fucking dead frog and i think someone ate his hair’

pt 2

also sorry that i had too much izzy she’s my favourite 😔

[la-cosmonauta-extraterrestre]

How to learn physics as an adult

I'm creating this post in response to some posts @un-ionizetheradlab made the other day, but I'm creating this as a guide to anyone this is relevant for. It's going to be a long post, but pick and choose what to do from this list based on what works for you and what your goals are, whether it's just to gain basic scientific literacy or become a physicist (or something in between). Also remember that it's a journey not a sprint, so it's ok if you don't understand physics at first (and if it makes you feel better, physics was one of my worst subjects in school and now I have a master's degree in physics). Without further ado:

First Thing's First

There are some mathematical methods you need to learn to understand physics; there's no way around this:

Vectors: This is the most important thing to learn for physics, how to use vectors. It seemed every mathematics or physics class I took in my first year of my physics degree started with an introduction to vectors, and for good reason. You can learn about how vectors work on Khan Academy for free.

Matrices and Tensors: Once you've mastered vectors, learn about matrices and linear algebra, and perhaps go on to learning about tensors once you're at it. You can at least get the basics about matrices from Khan Academy, but you might want to invest in a linear algebra textbook.

Calculus: I said vectors are the most important thing to learn for physics, but it actually might be calculus. If you have absolutely no previous knowledge of calculus, you can watch the video "Calculus at a Fifth Grade Level" on YouTube; it's a little more advanced than fifth grade level but can give you a good feel for what calculus is about. Once you've done that, there are multiple calculus courses available on Khan Academy. There's also a calculus course available on Brilliant, but it might only be available through the paid version.

Ordinary Differential Equations and Boundary Value Problems: You don't need to learn these right away, but if you want to do physics at the upper undergraduate level, you'll need to learn these at some point.

2. Learning to Think Like a Scientist

Some suggestions of apps and things to watch if you don't know much about science so you can start thinking like a scientist:

SciShow: If you don't know much science at all, SciShow on YouTube is a good place to start, I used to watch it and as I recall it's more focused on life sciences but there's some physics videos there, too.

Ciencias De La Ciencia: This is sort of a Spanish version of SciShow but it's more physics-focused. At least some of the videos have subtitles if you don't know Spanish.

Cosmos: If you haven't seen Cosmos (either the old version with Carl Sagan or the new version with Neil DeGrasse Tyson), it's very good and at least some of the episodes are available for free online. It's more pop-science and history of science than actual science content, but at least they make a point of using anecdotes from the history of science to illustrate how the scientific method works.

Sabine Hossenfelder: Highly recommend her YouTube channel; she's one of the most intellectually honest scientific communicators in the world nowadays. Her videos are a good illustration of how to think like a scientist. She also has a blog and has written a few books.

Brilliant: This is an app with mathematics and science courses that places an emphasis on problem-solving. Most of the courses are only available on the paid version of the app (but you should be able to get a discount on it if you're subscribed to any mainstream science YouTubers), but even the free version gives you access to a few courses, plus a forum where people post problems. I had this app back in the day and liked solving problems on the forum (no idea if it's changed since then).

3. Books to Study

If you're committed to learning physics you should study from some textbooks:

Physics LibreTexts: This is a whole collection of university-level physics textbooks for free online. It's an invaluable resource for learning physics. Use it to learn classical mechanics, electricity and magnetism, modern physics (but don't jump into quantum mechanics straight away if you're just starting out in physics).

Landau and Lifshitz Course of Theoretical Physics: This was the physics school curriculum in the Soviet Union; it's a little dated now but if you're just learning the basics it can't be beat given the excellent pedagogy. It's easy enough to find copies of it online, especially on Russian sites. Most if not all of the textbooks in the series have been translated into English, but if you know any Russian, the original is easy to follow.

Introduction to Electrodynamics by David J. Griffiths: Once you've learned mechanics, modern physics and some electricity and magnetism get yourself a copy of this textbook; you can get used editions on Amazon for a reasonable enough price. American physics majors are obsessed with this textbook, refer to it as the Bible, and for good reason.

Every Life is on Fire by Jeremy England: This isn't a textbook, but reading it took me back to my statistical mechanics class and it's way more readable than any actual statmech textbook so if you are interested in learning statmech, this book is a good start. It's actually a general reading book about England's ideas about the origin of life, interspersed with some parallels to the Hebrew Bible because England is also a rabbi. He actually has some interesting ideas about the philosophy of science, though they can be difficult to get behind, so if you're interested go listen to a podcast where they interview him (obligatory I don't condone the Kahaneist politics he sometimes promotes).

4. Learn About Research and Experiments

Physics is an experimental science, so expose yourself to some experiments:

Look for PDFs of high school physics labs online. You can find some for free and it should be cheap enough to do the experiments at home.

Read scientific papers on topics that interest you to try and understand what's happening today. If you find them difficult to understand, try reading older papers and go from there, for example, in undergrad I did a research internship relating to neutron stars, but I found some of the recent scientific papers difficult to understand, but reading the 1938 paper "On Massive Neutron Cores" by Oppenheimer and Volkoff helped me to understand neutron stars better. (When I returned to some of those same papers during my master's degree, I was proud to have understood them well.)

5. Take University-Level Physics Courses

You can take university-level physics courses without committing to a degree:

Search online for MOOCs (Massive Open Online Courses). You can find MOOCs on multiple sites about many physics topics, and they're often free (sometimes you have to pay for them).

If you live in the United States, you can take physics classes at your local community college.

You can enroll in online physics courses through Open University, based in London but you can take the courses from anywhere. It's expensive, but you pay by the credit so you don't have to pay for a whole year of tuition if you're just taking one course.

If you happen to have free time in the summer and the money for it, many American universities (and elite British universities) offer summer courses that one can enroll in even if they don't attend the university. These are usually in-person classes.

6. Get a Physics Degree

Getting a physics degree is ultimately the only course of action if you've decided to become a physicist, the recommended course of action if you're ultimate goal is a PhD in the history of science or philosophy of science, and a good idea if learning physics has made you want a career in science communication of science education. There's no shame in being a non-traditional age student; in both my bachelor's and master's degree in physics I knew students who were non-traditional age. The downside of this is that it's a bad financial decision to get a degree, especially if it's a second bachelor's degree, but there are ways to lessen the financial burden of a degree:

If you attend an American university with American tuition, you can usually get an on-campus job, though that's pocket change compared to the costs of tuition.

On the bright side, if you already have a bachelor's degree you can probably get credit for general requirements at American universities, so a second bachelor's degree in physics might not take long.

You can also do a part-time degree while you work at many universities.

Just some general advice, if you go the American university route go to a university with a Society of Physics Students and get a student membership in American Physical Society; you get all kinds of benefits like access to Physics Today magazine, scholarships, internships, conferences, an honour society induction.

All that said, it's difficult to attend an American university without losing money. For that matter it's difficult to attend any university in the world without losing money, but you can lessen that burden by going to a country where university is cheaper. There the limiting factor is going to be language; although English is the international language of physics and the medium of most postgraduate physics degrees around the world, physics bachelor's degrees are usually in the local language. Some possible exceptions I found to this, for those who are not fluent in a language other than English:

Apparently there are world-class English-medium physics degree programmes in France? I figure there must be some kind of catch given the way the French are about their language, but given the high research output France has in physics, this is worth getting into.

There are English-medium physics bachelor's degrees in the Czech Republic, and tuition there is pretty affordable (for the English-language degrees; it's free for Czech-language degrees if you happen to be fluent in Czech). I don't know Czechia to have a lot of physics research output today, but back in the day Prague was a major centre of scientific research (Einstein briefly lived and worked as a physics professor in Prague), so it you're goal is to do a PhD in the history of science...I'm just gonna say that there's an English-medium physics bachelor's degree programme at Charles University and you'd have time when you're not studying to explore the city and it's history (but you should learn some Czech if you're going to live there).

University degrees in South Africa are usually English-medium, and tuition there is pretty affordable. There's also a fair amount of research output from South African universities. (Though I understand not wanting to live in South Africa.)

[duboisproposal]

Harvard Online Courses

After some eyebrow raising shit being thrown around from the (saddest most corrupt evil pos to hold the position) POTUS towards Harvard (something something Obama's daughter and Carney's child got in but Barron did not) Harvard has free online courses - (viral memes say these courses are new and a direct response but I'm not sure whether that is the case)

Course on Separation of Powers

Understanding the Constitution

Recognize a Dictatorship

How the Wealthy purchase politics

Pretty amazing right? Okay well I've been looking over the Harvard courses offered for free. The courses now available include

and

and

or

and while we are at it here is a short list of free Harvard courses that Look Really Cool To Me.

https://pll.harvard.edu/course/data-analysis-life-sciences-2-introduction-linear-models-and-matrix-algebra

https://pll.harvard.edu/course/data-analysis-life-sciences-4-high-dimensional-data-analysis

https://pll.harvard.edu/course/contractsx-trust-promise-contract

https://pll.harvard.edu/course/food-fermentation-science-cooking-microbes

https://pll.harvard.edu/course/fundamentals-neuroscience-part-1-electrical-properties-neuron

https://pll.harvard.edu/course/data-science-linear-regression/2025-04

and more free courses at https://pll.harvard.edu/catalog?price%5B1%5D=1&max_price=&start_date=&keywords=&url=. Free micro courses online are amazing. Coursera and edx will often offer courses and then use Dark Patterns to hide the 'audit for free' button- but generally getting an overview of this stuff from some of the best professors on the planet is such a charming documentary overview into some good stuff.

[tuliptired]

Hiii!!! I love your fics sm ahhdhsbsb 🤭🤭🤭

Can I request a Ray or Egon one-shot with a GN or male rockstar reader? It could be present time or college days, I think them having a bit of gay panic would be fun, have a good day!!

Warrior in Woolworths

Pairing: Ray Stantz/Rockstar!Male!Reader

Warnings: Minor violence/blood

Shoutout to the Ray fans out there I salute you all

Better formatting on Ao3!! (italics and such)

 Ray pulled his trusty leather jacket closer to himself, hands in his pockets when a chill ran through the dark street. If he was going to this thing, he was gonna look the part.

He was given two tickets to a concert held in a venue he just couldn’t find. They were a gift- given to him by the short redheaded girl in his advanced algebra class for bringing all her work when she was stuck with tonsillitis.

“Gee, thanks!” Ray took the two slips of paper from her in the empty hallway. He pursed his lips, willing to take a chance. “Would you like to come with me?”

Her smile weakened. “I’m sorry. My boyfriend wouldn’t want me to.”

That crossed one person off the list, at least. In the moment, he wasn’t really trying to insinuate any sort of date. Back in high school, most of his friends were girls, and they loved live music. Their moms would get tons of pictures before they left and thank him for being such a good friend. College was surely complicating things.

He would’ve asked his sister, or one of his cousins, but they had their own things going on. Besides, the name of this band seemed a bit too extreme for his Aerosmith family. Where was this place, anyway? He’d circled the block at least twice, and the little part of New York felt more like a place where good kids whose parents paid for tuition shouldn’t be strolling around.

He had his friends- they were guys. Apparently guys were the ones to invite to concerts. But Peter wanted to have an early night. Which corner store did he have to solicit to get directions around here? Egon was a laughable option. Ray finally stopped his aimless wandering when a few kids in denim ran down the street, skipping down some steps and into the basement of a dimly lit dive.

Ray followed, the excitement and body heat of the minuscule hall spilling out when he opened the door, squeezing through and trying to hand a ticket to someone he assumed was supposed to handle them, though he was slumped back on a stool, smoke surrounded him. Ray just slipped the paper into a cardboard box filled with others, suddenly anxious at how packed it was. Even more smoke hazed up the air, floating up to a skylight and dancing above the heads of those who chose to hang off a balcony that wrapped around the room. He found himself imagining what this place used to be, velvety red remnants of what was once a hidden and cozy Italian place or even a comedy club covered up by large stage lights, posters, and spray paint.

Your little group made it out amidst screaming. Lots of screaming, so loud that the uproar alone shook his shabby barstool from the ground up. It was dark, the only things visible above countless people were the silhouettes of instruments and their attached handlers.

No introduction, no opener, just pure noise. Even bigger than the screaming, bass and bass drum fighting for capital over the space. Guitars cut through everything like a laser, sharp and clear. Everyone was going absolutely insane, and Ray just needed a second- just a second to pick apart sound and voices and words. 

The first song was over as soon as it started, a commotion of applause around him. The lights finally came up, ever so slightly, and he was starting to understand the hype. 

There you were, guitar around your shoulders and gripping a microphone like your life depended on it. You looked like you’d gone mad, in chunky boots and reflective leather.

“I’m pissed,” your voice rang out into the mic, and you were greeted with cheers across the board. When those died down, you started again. “People are trying to change what we do. They’re trying to make it something it’s not.”

You really knew how to get a crowd going. And maybe the butterflies in his stomach coming out of their cocoons- you sounded nothing like he expected. “Rock isn’t digestible. It isn’t a commodity. It’s dirty, it’s improper, it’s starved.”

The next song started after that. Harder, more aggressive, but more vocals than anything. You sang even better than you sounded. Ray could feel his bones rattling, hair sticking up on every part of his body as your fingers glided across your guitar. You played even better than you sang.

He stopped keeping track, at some point just feeling like pure energy. He was in a vacuum while the drummer hit the snare, a raging and vibrating vacuum. But it was far from unpleasant. This was a room full of people who had been wronged, downtrodden, ignored, and this was their release, musical or otherwise. Someone brought out a saxophone, something he could appreciate as a fellow woodwind. It helped that the frontman- frontperson? Was pretty damn good at what they did.

There was a slower song, sardonic and dark, where you were practically having relations with the microphone stand. Everything about you was teeming with a gnarly power, and Ray couldn’t even make out your features. Only the shine of white light bouncing off your clothes and accessories. You kept playing guitar like it’d kill you otherwise, and it all made him incredibly flustered. He clutched his hand over his heart. He wanted you bad, and he couldn’t even tell if you were a girl or not.

Ray wished it would never end, feeling the adolescent indignance and passion flow through him like it was intravenous. But, all good things had an expiration, and your band was backstage not long after midnight. He felt he’d be imposing if he mingled among the revolutionaries, but he needed to walk a bit, before he got too excited and tried to hit something.

When Ray found his car the next street over, he could barely get off the sidewalk when a police officer blew into his whistle.

“How long have you been parked here?” The man had his hands on his hips.

Ray blinked. “About an hour or three. Is that a problem?” The officer pointed up to a sign, which read that parking had been restricted here for most of the night.

He pulled out a pad of paper, muttering about “college kids” and “no one listens”, when Ray’s pulse quickened, clammy hands rubbing the nape of his neck. He’s never gotten a ticket before- whether that was because he was a good driver or conveniently avoided the cops was beside it all. There’s no way he had the money to pay for it, and no way he’d wanna bother his parents for it. How much were tickets, anyway? 

“What’re you doing?” An unfamiliar voice sounded from down the sidewalk, somewhat hidden in darkness.

The officer squinted and went back to scribbling out the fine. “Mind your own business and go home,” he shouted back.

“You can’t give him a ticket, I know that guy!”

He looked between Ray and the stranger, pen in hand. “You know this guy?”

“Duh.” There was a second of silence. “That’s Steve.”

The policeman stared at Ray like he was a felon, and Ray stared back just as dumbly. He’d go along with anything, if it kept his record clean. He stuffed his things back in his blue shirt pocket, stalking off slowly and continuing to talk of “damned punks” and “too old for night patrol.”

Ray stood under the orange street lamps, dumbfounded with his back against the passenger door. His wallet’s savior emerged from the shadows, and his breath hitched when he got a better look. You were the one on stage! With the guitar and the voice and a lot of dark stuff under your eyes. Crazy hair, at least to his understanding. You don’t see more than 5-6 different styles at an Ivy. Chains and rips on taut black leather- you definitely don’t see that at an Ivy. You had your jacket tied around square hips, exposing arms and shoulders with discreet tattoos. Self-done, perhaps? Regardless, that was NYU behavior, not Columbia. And you weren’t a girl. Should he still want you?

“I don’t think your name is really Steve.” 

His mouth opened and closed while he tried to remember English. “No. No, it’s Raymond.” He cringed inside. Why use the objectively lamer version of his name? He’s embarrassing himself in front of the funky rockstar. “Ray,” he corrected.

And the funky rockstar smiled at him. “You gotta fight back, Ray. Don’t let them take your $2.”

“You lied to a policeman over $2?” Ray questioned some of the virtues he’d been raised on.

You shrugged. “Money is money. You shouldn’t get hassled for parking on the street.” Huh. He’d never thought of it that way. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy getting a ticket?”

“No, dude, the show.” 

Oh yeah- he was at a concert for a super awesome band and their frontman, as he just found out, just covered for him. “Yeah, it was great.” It was more than great, dummy. It was electric, exhilarating, galvanizing, bewildering. “It was really, really great.”

Ray felt a tinge self conscious as you watched him, unblinking, fearing he had offended you somehow. “You don’t go to these things often.”

He nodded, guard dropping a bit. “What gave it away?”

You pointed out the clunky glasses tucked into the pocket of his shirt. “My mom said I should bring them wherever I go,” Ray laughed bashfully, pulling them out and sliding them into his dark jeans. 

He felt proud at making you snicker. “It’s cool. Half my bandmates wear contacts.”

“Where are they, anyway?” Ray realized you were out and about without them. He was probably holding you up from something. 

“They’re around here, somewhere. We’ll run into each other eventually.” Your attention shifted to his Camaro, running a hand over the paintjob. “Your car’s awesome, man.”

He already knew that, but the confirmation was nice. “Really? It still needs work.”

“Can’t even tell,” you peered into the passenger side window, “I’ve only seen these when they’ve been stolen.”

Ray didn’t wanna just leave you here, if that was true- even though you seemed more than capable of fighting off a few muggers. Perhaps he just wanted more time with the cool musician. “Wanna take a drive?” he ran a thumb over the back of his own knuckles. “See if we can find your friends?”

Ray went to a concert, alone, got a parking violation, and there’s a really peculiar guitarist sitting in his passenger seat, Doc Martens on his dashboard. And he couldn’t even bring himself to care about your shoes scuffing the interior fabric. 

“Where’re you looking to go?” He took note of how empty the city street seemed, the only light coming from lamp posts and 24-hour shops and restaurants, occasionally poking out of home curtains.

“Wherever you’re willing to take me.” Ray swallowed, bringing the car to life as you sat back, hands behind your head. He hadn’t been with many girls romantically, but they’d never been so comfortable so soon- not even his other male friends, let alone a stranger. A very alluring stranger.

You turned your head to face him casually. “No one gave you shit, right?”

He drove slower than you should on a residential road. “I don’t think so. I was at the bar the whole night.”

“Good.” Your belts and chains made clinking sounds as you crossed one ankle over the other. “The bar’s no fun. Find the guy messing with the speakers and tell him you know the color of my underwear, that’ll get you up close.”

“I’m not sure my guess will be correct.”

“It’s always green on show nights, I can show you-” Ray struggled to keep his eyes on the turn he was making when you shimmied up, thumbs in the hem of your pants.

“I believe you,” he successfully got onto another street without veering onto the sidewalk. “When’s your next show?”

Ray had a small grin as you slumped back down. “Not for a crazy long time. Not here, at least.” That news sucked. He should hassle you for a phone number, if that wasn’t too bold. So you could be pen-pals, obviously. “We’re friends, right?”

He kept driving, not entirely sure of where he was going and scared he’d instinctively take the route back to his dorm, but at ease at the feeling of rolling rubber on asphalt. “In all of 10 minutes.”

Your laughter filled his car. “If- when we find them. We usually bounce around a few more shows, drink some, crash somewhere for the night. Wanna come with?”

Ray would’ve leapt at the opportunity to have the night with his new friend, but his old friend needed him. Peter went to bed early to be rested to see his dad the next afternoon. He wanted Ray there as a buffer, in case his day at home was as grating as he expected it to be. “I’m sorry, I promised my friend I’d go out with him in the morning.” he frowned, seeing that it was already past his bedtime.

He’d like to think you were a bit disappointed. “No problem,” you pulled out two little white things, “the least I could do is treat you to a smoke.”

The car slowed at a fairly useless stoplight in the desolate intersection. You lit his own before he lifted it to his lips, but the one in between your fingers refused to ignite next to the sparking lighter. “Outta fuel,” you uttered.

Before Ray could finish gazing down at the center console for his own, your calloused palms held onto either side of his jaw, pressing your unlit cigarette to his ablaze one. It was so close to a kiss that he found himself wondering where to put his hands, one gripping the steering wheel and the other the firm shoulder of the seat next to him. Which was stupid, because kisses were reserved for his mother’s cheek. And girlfriends who called him Raymond and kissed him at the door but never ended up calling again. And girl friends who called him Stantz and only kissed him at the door to get their moms off their backs.

You definitely weren’t his mom, or a girlfriend, or even a girl friend, and Ray felt himself wishing, deep down and with sweaty palms, that there weren’t two rolled partitions between you both. Something about your presence made him want to let go of the engineering department, cutting the lights during the day to save energy, always having his glasses in case of an emergency. The casualness in which your fingers framed his face while the embers burned from one end to the other made him wanna be something dirty, improper, and starved.

Someone appeared behind them, probably waiting a while, and mashed their horn impatiently. Ray remembered that he was behind the wheel, green light reflecting into the car when he hastily pulsed the gas. His father would be incredibly disappointed with his son- nearly sullying his record (for $2), letting a stranger dig their heels into his leatherwork, smoking. Pretty much half his extended family smoked, they just managed to hide it from each other. The shame was still there. Blowing nicotine inches away from the face of another man when you had a duty to everyone else on the road. Dirty, improper, starved.

The car rumbled along. Ray wouldn’t call himself innocent or inexperienced. 6-foot-something and pretty solid, he drank, cursed, had to shave every so often, got into plenty of trouble. It just didn’t seem like your kind of trouble. But was that always a bad thing? 

You had your nose pressed to the glass of the window, suddenly taken by something outside. “Pull over real quick! You’ve gotta try this one place.”

He did as you said, parking in the white glow of a Chinese spot, following you in after you took a final drag, crushing the tobacco under your heel. “I’m telling you- instant hangover cure.” you held the door open, jacket now back over your shoulders.

“You’re hungover?” Ray questioned, eyes adjusting to the bright ambiance. It was a smaller place, not unlike any other takeout spot in the city, void of customers at the late hour.

 “Not yet,” you smirked over your shoulder. Ray watched timidly as your hand slid a few wrapped, green candies to a girl sitting behind the counter. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

The girl, who probably should be in bed, fought you quietly in Cantonese, and you simply apologized. “Alright, I’m sorry. Two of the usual. Oh, and two beers. Please.”

Ray took the liberty of grabbing two frosty bottles from the freezer, not missing how the girl disappeared up the steps into her house, rather than the restaurant’s kitchen. “How much?” he asked over your shoulder.

You shook your head fervently. “Doesn’t cost anything.”

“You’re stealing?” he whispered harshly.

“No!” you whispered just as intensely. “They never make me pay.”

“Oh,” Ray dropped his defenses, following you to a round table in the middle of the square floor, “how come?”

You leaned back in your seat, wooden legs an inch or two off the ground. “Some guys tried to rob the owner. I stopped ‘em, watched the store a few nights, and now she lets me eat for free.” Ray’s eyes just short of popped out his head when you lifted the hem of your shirt over a bit of your abdomen. “It’s how I got this.”

There was a dark, running scar close to your ribs. “How- why- are you okay?” He fretted, astounded at your laissez faire attitude.

“It’s fine, it’s old. I knew he had a shiv.” you slung your arm over the back of the chair, having opened your beer.

“You knew, and you still spat with them?” He could imagine you in a narrow bathroom, attempting to stitch yourself up. “That’s…brave,” he couldn’t lie.

You leaned forward, opening his drink for him. “Just community. She made sure everyone was fed at night, anyway.” 

“That’s your movement,” Ray ran a finger up and down the damp glass, “isn’t it?” Getting shanked in the dark to keep a small business safe was definitely the unseen side of the subculture you subscribed to. 

He watched as your eyes lit up with the same passion you had on that stage. “Yeah! Community, safety, liberation- can’t survive if we’re all taking from each other. It’s why I make music.” Ray smiled at your selflessness. Handsome and heroic, in a roguish way. He was wrong. He still wanted you, bad. 

“You’d be a hot drummer.” That certainly caught him off guard, almost sending alcohol flying out his nose. 

Ray put a hand to a dry nostril, just in case. “What?”

“I mean it,” you bent at the waist over the table. “Little hairspray,” you mussed his growing hair, “little eye-gunk, tighten the shirt, shoulder tat- you’d be perfect.”

“You’re just saying that,” Ray sat obediently as you tried to dry-style him. He’d let you do that all night, if you felt like it.

An older woman, probably the owner, came down the steps, carrying two bowls in pink pajamas. You sat back, leaving his hair a mess when you rubbed your hands together in excitement. “Thank you, Mrs. Tsang.” you passed him a set of chopsticks. “You’re not ready for this.”

“Where to next?” You asked Ray, stepping out onto the sidewalk.

“Wherever you want,” he tried his best to etch your image into his long-term memory before you both ran into some guys.

Tall, big, guys, managing to tower over you both, each in more leather than you had in your closet. You didn’t look as scared as Ray felt, his knees threatening to buckle, as you just held onto a plastic bag holding the remains of your dinner. “Were we in your way?”

“The old lady around?” the biggest one grunted, getting awfully close.

You stood, unfazed. “Yeah, and I am too.”

He jabbed his finger into your chest, barely far from nose to nose. “You wanna get cut again?”

“Barely felt it last time.”

The drop of sweat on Ray’s forehead hardly had a moment to roll down before a fist flew to the middle of your face, a grotesque sound ricocheting off the walls of the empty street. The gang of strangers, once they saw you were sufficiently hurt, bolted into the night, Mrs. Tsang appearing in the window of her establishment.

“Are you okay?” Ray panicked, helping you steady yourself inside, collecting your gushing blood in your cupped hands, ignoring your complaints about how he made you drop your noodles. His heartbeat raced as a few drips got onto his shirt, feeling even more disoriented when the owner said a few things in another language.

“Bathroom,” you pointed a red finger down a hallway near the steps. Ray got the door open, and you woozily sat on the sink, body weight leaning away from the mirror at your back. “Aid kit in the cabinet.”

You were right, and it was sitting next to a half full bottle of liquor. He slowly pried your hands from your nose, bracing himself. “Let me see,” he coaxed you, cringing at the air you hissed out through your teeth.

It wasn’t all bad, Ray could tell that underneath all the blood was just a little discoloration and a deep gash. “At least it’s not broken,” he said shakily, ducking behind you to let some cold water run over a towel he found in the little white box.

“Another point for me,” you managed to get out through pained groans, blood trickling into your mouth. 

Ray tried to remember his boy scout training, bringing himself to wipe away some of the drying nastiness from your face. “This happens often?”

He scarcely touched you when you recoiled in pain. “Why d’you think they kept this stuff in here?” you attempted a weak smile.

This wasn’t gonna get done without some outside help. He grabbed the bottle by the neck, passing it to you, hands on his hips as you pretty much emptied the entire thing. Ray resumed, and the gentleness of the cool cloth, combined with the alcohol, seemed to relax you. “You’re pretty dauntless.” he stood in between your legs.

You hummed lazily- apparently a pretty crazy lightweight, at least when you were losing liters. “Someone has to be.”

When all the reddish brown was gone, Ray inspected that wound. It was fairly deep for a punch, still red and open to the air. Stitches, this needed stitches. “You’re gonna hate me for this,” he frowned, plucking a suture from the sterile container.

“I’d never,” you half-slurred, though you swallow at the sight of the barb.

Ray was halfway done, stuffing his fear and channeling a camp counselor as he brought the thread in and out the skin of your nasal dorsum. He didn’t know where he was expecting this impromptu outing to go, but definitely not here. But he didn’t really mind, either- he’d stitch you up a thousand times over if it meant he could hold your face. He couldn’t be bothered with what that said about him when he had your skin under his fingers.

“Taking care of me,” you muttered, not even flinching when the needle dove out to be tied in a knot.

“Someone has to,” Ray stepped back, pleased with his medical handiwork. His mother would be proud. “How’s that fee-”

“Be in my band.”

“What?”

You looked catatonic. “Go to Canada with me- California- wherever.”

Ray had a humorless chuckle, doing his best to wash his hands behind you. “You’re drunk,” he rationalized with himself, not looking into your eyes when he put a child’s bandage over the now closed wound.

You tried to turn to him completely with your butt perched on the edge of the sink, but you lost your balance and had to be held upright by him. “I’ll teach you the drums- something. I just don’t wanna lose you. Forget about that stuffy school.”

Hands on your ribs, he so desperately wanted to agree. To do what your spirit had been begging him to do and run away. Dirty, improper, starved. You changed his perspective in a matter of mere hours- shouldn’t he have to?

“I have to stay here,” he forced out, “I have things here.” 

Your eyes were partly pained, partly glazed with your intoxication. Your green Lamb Chop adhesive stuck out like a bullseye somewhere below knitted brows. “Can we compromise?”

“I don’t understand how this is a compromise,” Ray sat mortified in the 24-hour tattoo clinic.

You laid on your stomach, pants hiked down just under your tailbone, where a tattoo gun was currently inking you with “R.S.”. “You didn’t wanna run away with me,” you laughed drunkenly, the humorous part of being inebriated manifesting itself.

He shrunk, a pang in his chest somewhere. The tattoo artist eyed Ray for a moment. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry,” you let your eyes close. “I don’t wanna remember you sorry.”

“Are you sure you don’t want one?” you nabbed a marker from the front desk as you both left. 

“I’m sure,” Ray nodded, trying to figure out where to go. He should find your friends- drive morning and night until he found them, before he dropped everything and drove out the state with you in the backseat.

A few accented voices interrupted him, and he abruptly realized that he was grasping your hand. Your bandmates, hobbling over after their own adventures.

“This is where you went?” the British bassist started. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

Ray heard you groan, and you wordlessly started pulling down the collar of his jacket, exposing the tag. “Can I?” you clumsily held up the stolen marker.

He let you, and you meticulously scrawled your initials into the white slip of fabric. A reminder, for as long as he kept it- almost like a tattoo for those who weren’t ready to be dirty, improper, starved. And he was never getting rid of this thing.

You finished, adjusting it for him and just taking a moment to hook your fingers in his pockets. Ray was gonna miss you, so hard. He felt like a teenager again, except this time he didn’t feel like he wasted your time, in an uncomfortable suit, spending date money his parents trusted him with. Maybe he could learn to live like you did, if you’d wait long enough.

“Could you and your boyfriend hurry?” your friend complained. You sighed, booze still in your system.

“You won’t forget me?”

“Never.”

You reluctantly peeled away from him and down the street with your friends. Ray watched your retreating figure as you walked off into the darkness, until you turned fast on your heels, sprinting over and jumping into his arms. The kiss was messy, and rushed, probably splitting your stitches and aggravating your sinuses. Laced with the fact that you’d be scattered around the country for an unknown amount of time. But it was the realest one Ray’s ever had.

[dragonrider9905]

Marry Her Anyways

Hello @thetinestpixiequeen! Happy Exchange day!!!! I really hope you like it <3 I rarely get to write for Cody so I had so much fun doing this for you!!!!! Hehe, I noticed the Taylor Swift prompt so I thought I'd throw an extra one in there for you too ;) Thank you @ghostofskywalker for hosting this event for @cloneficgiftexchange!!!!

“I’ll never fall in love!” Cody laughs out loud to his brother’s prompt, or question, or whatever it was. You couldn’t quite hear from where you were sitting and watching them, biting the eraser on your pencil to cover up the smile forming on your lips. You sat on the couch writing your maid of honor speech for your best friend, Phee, who was coincidentally marrying Cody’s half brother, Tech. Cody was in the kitchen working on his best man speech, which wasn’t quite coming how he’d hoped and he’d asked his brother to step in ‘for a minute’ to read what he had. It’d been longer than ‘a minute’ which got you curious. So, you started watching the brothers, amused, but not quite comprehending the discussion, whatever it was about. You were just out of earshot as they say at the kitchen table. 

Who cares anyway. You got to observe Cody unnoticed. He often caught you staring at him, much to your annoyance. He’d catch your gaze as you tore it away and you could never really tell what was under them, not daring to match his eye for honest eye. What if he saw the truth hidden in the secret of your soul and was disgusted at it? Now was your chance for a good, long…observation. 

Goodness, Cody was just…wonderful. The way he looked…laughed…and just was. His brother, Rex, idolized him and with good reason. You were good friends with Rex. Going to the same college, you ended up seeing each other in a lot of the gen-ed classes. Eventually, you and he became Literature and Algebra buddies. You understood the Literature with a bleeding heart Rex didn’t understand, and he found your passion both entertaining and helpful. It would be your patience and dedication to helping him understand all the jargon for his passing grades. In turn, Rex helped you in your least favorite subject ever, algebra. Since he started working with you, your grades skyrocketed in a good way. 

And from such a partnership, a great friendship formed. 

That’s how you met Cody. Cody strode over to the table with absolute confidence and charm. Swinging a seat around and straddling it in a carefree, confident manner, he started chatting with you without a proper introduction. 

“My brother's told me a lot about you…”

But before he could continue, the brother in question showed up and innocently interrupted.

When you laid eyes on him, you swore you were charmed and doomed to love him forever. His charming smile melted your heart down to a lockbox for only him. Darn Rex for showing up when he did, you wanted to know what this beautiful man was going to say to you.

From then on, the three of you became a team, inseparable. 

Studying nights turned into game nights, moving nights, baring your souls’ secrets nights and so forth. 

So many laughs and tears shared between you. 

But you couldn’t get out of the facade of only being friends. You didn’t know how, or if you wanted to…you could ruin everything. Not just with Cody (that’d be horrible enough) but you thought you’d lose Rex as a friend as well. 

So, for now, you’d just watch. And hope. And dream. 

Cody's boisterous laugh brought you back to the present. 

You watched him swear it again as he ran his fingers through his hair with a nervous chuckle.

“I'm not in love…”

And you laugh, hoping beyond hope, that he’s wrong. Because you’d already fallen so hard for him.

Smiling warmly, if not a little sadly, you found yourself swallowing hard, feeling put on the spot. Discovered. And a little silly, stupid, absurdness crept into your eyes and cheeks with heat.  

Cody laughed again. A strange, strangled laugh. Not quite suppressed, but controlled. He never laughed like that. 

Cocking your head, intrigued, you paid attention to the detail in front of you. 

The nervous way he was trying to play it cool with his brother who was prodding him with the back of his pen, gleefully shouting in not too quiet tones “you are! You are!” 

Cody was half heartedly swatting at the jabs in between a blushful of laughs, heartfelt denials which didn’t match his smile, and loud “shhh’es. 

“You should ask her!” Rex was not at all quiet about saying it. “It would be so easy! She’s right in there! Boom! Done.” 

“Not that simple.”

“What do you mean it’s not that simple.”

With an eye roll and a sigh you could hear, Cody lowered his voice again. Darn him. 

You shouldn't be eavesdropping anyway. So you turned your eyes back to your paper and pressed on. 

The speeches were a success. The crowd was moved by the humourous, yet touching words. Dinner was on point for flavor and portion. You weren't surprised. With Tech as the groom, of course all details would be in order! 

The plates were just cleared away when the bride and groom started off the dances. 

You stood to the side, tears in your eyes as you watched your friend so happy. Her smile, her laugh, her tears, all so full of the magic of the day. 

Being totally enraptured by the dazzling bride and her dashing husband, who reflected in his own way, the happiness of his wife, you didn't notice when he slipped behind you.

“Would you save the first dance for me?” 

His breath was warm, and his lips tickled your ear with the whisper. You jumped, coming out of your revelry. 

You heard Cody chuckle. 

“Didn't mean to scare you.” 

You laughed in reply. “I wasn't scared…just…surprised!” 

He smiled warmly. More so than you ever remembered seeing him smile before. It was kind and sincere, without any bravado. 

“So…” he started with a slight cough. 

You didn't let him finish.

“I'd love to!” 

As if on cue, the dance floor opened up for all couples. 

Your heart beat madly. 

Was this platonic? Friendly? Interest? 

Swallowing hard, you put your arms around him and started swaying to the music. 

He didn't say anything at first. You were a little surprised by that but whatever, perhaps he just wanted to be settled in the dance first. Problem was, he stayed that way. Quiet, only moving in rhythm to the music. Your anxiety started to peak. 

Emboldened by remembering his soft gaze, you thought you'd try to talk. 

“Sooooo”

“You don't like it do you.” 

When you pulled away shocked, you could see red embarrassed cheeks blazing with puzzlement. 

“I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or make this awkward.” He scratched his head 

Since when did Cody get shy? And when did he stammer? 

He started to pull away but in a quick response, you threw your arms around him.

“I-I do like it…” you were shaking, trembling as the secret came pouring from your lips. “I….think I love you.” 

Cody wrapped his arms around your waist and burried his head into your shoulder. 

“And I …. Think I love you too.” 

Your chest flooded with warmth and love, not being able to contain the smile you felt forming on your lips. 

“You’re the best, Cody.” You mumbled into his neck, feeling a wave of shyness wash over you. You smiled against his skin, hoping he could feel it. Not only it, but how happy you were. 

“No, the best me has his arms around you. You make me the best version of who I am by just being you.”

He stopped swaying to the music and pulled your arms from around his neck. He placed his palm on your cheek, forcing you to look up at him fully for the first time ever. 

All you saw there was eyes full of hope and happiness, complete love and adoration, before he kissed you. 

Eyes closed, you’d savor the moment. But you couldn’t wait to read what else would be in his eyes when it was over. 

You knew what would be in yours: wonderstruck. 

From the way he was kissing you, you thought, perhaps, he might feel the same. 

What you didn't know what he was thinking was…

He didn't deserve you. You were a gift; something so untouchable, unreachable and precious. 

But, he was going to marry you.Someday, somehow he would. He'd strive every day to deserve you and make you happy. That's all he wanted, was you happy. 

If seeing the glittery tears of happiness roll down your cheeks as you tried not to smile while kissing him was any indication of how happy he made each other….

Yeah, he didn't deserve you, but he'd marry you anyway.

dividers by @djarrex

[cloudy-caspirations]

✧ Introduction Post ✧

Hello! I’m Cas and welcome to my blog! I’m new to this studyblr thing and tumblr in general but desperately needed motivation for my studies, so please excuse any mistakes 😵‍💫

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

About me:

libra, latina, 19, any pronouns

As of the Spring ‘25 semester I will be a 2nd year undergrad, but it will be my 1st year studying electrical engineering

Hobbies/Interests: anything and everything Kirby and Sonic related, reading, guitar, occasionally art (both traditional and digital), arts and crafts I guess ??? bc I’m a broke college student and diy everything

Spring ‘25 Semester Specifics Under the Cut:

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ •• Classes for Spring ‘25:

- Digital Logic Design (Lecture & Lab) - Linear Algebra and Differential Equations - Calculus 3 - Chemistry 1

Academic Goals:

- Turn in assignments ON TIME - Actually study regularly instead of just cramming before tests - Get over fear of emailing professors and/or asking questions during lectures - Attend more office hours than I did last semester - Keep my notes and assignments organized for longer than the first 2 weeks of the semester

Personal Goals:

- Work out at least twice a week - Replacing doomscrolling habit with something constructive (reading, hobbies) or at least relaxing (games, socializing) - Eat healthier and on a regular schedule - SLEEP EARLIER, or at the very least before 12am - Consistently update this blog

okay I think this introduction post has gone on for long enough, thank you for reading this far! I’m going to treat this blog as a diary or journal of sorts mainly focused on academics, but will probably end up posting about my life in general every now and then. Hope you all stick around and good luck with your studies!