#Science Experiments for Class 6 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leesolbeesol · 5 months ago

Text

LIGHTWEIGHT

univeristy!au taesan x fem!reader (ft. the rest of bonedo!)

SUMMARY: Meeting Taesan at a basement party doesn't go as planned, what happens when you can't get rid of him? Do you even want to?

GENRE: fluff, slightly suggestive in one chapter, university!au (mentions of fraternities, classes, lectures, dorms, etc.) WARNINGS: Taesan gets punched, he doesn't deserve it but everything is okay | swearing | mentions of moaning but it doesn't get too crazy, reader makes fun of Taesan for it | fem!reader | heavy mentions of alcohol in the first chapter | EXCESSIVE flirting | ends with a confession!! NOTES: I have never been to a frat party. I have never participated in Greek life. I do not drink for personal reasons. I have never dated Han Dongmin (unfortunately). In other words, this is likely very unrealistic because my information comes from speculation, reddit threads, and other fanfics on tumblr dot com. This was so fun to write WC: 16.2k, divided into 6 "chapters" of varying length

RIDE OR DIE

You shift on your twin bed and feel the crinkly sheets shifting under your weight. You glance at the egg-shaped off-white clock on your wobbly, school-provided desk. The clock hits noon, your roommate will be home any minute and you’re hoping to power through the end of this report before then. Since you chose her as your roommate freshman year (because of maybe five instagram messages), Jen’s been your best friend, your literal ride or die, but she’s not the best body-doubling partner for cranking out assignments. When she’s with someone, she needs to provide commentary on whatever's going on, which is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a curse when it comes to being someone’s study partner.

The wooden door opens in an instant, and Jen’s frame appears in the doorway, flanked by about three bags. “Oh, dear roommate!” She greets you in song. She lets the bags fall from her arms with a thunk on the floor, and a couple papers scatter on the floor out of one of many of her partially-zipped backpacks. She marches towards you, waving her phone in your face. “Look at this! One of our sisters invited us to a party Sigma Chi’s is throwing this evening!” She says excitedly before steadying her gaze on you. You back up as a carefully manicured finger stretches out towards your face. “We need to go.” She always refers to her sorority sisters as your (plural) sisters, which you think is sweet. It’s her way of including you. You figure that, at some point, she decided ‘my sisters this, my sisters that’ got a little bit exclusionary.

“No.” You answer her and turn back to your computer, entering the link for a hopefully-penultimate citation. This is the one thing you’re maybe not so “ride-or-die” about with Jen. You like parties, sure, but you aren't going to give up a good night’s sleep (without midterms, and all) so easily.

“What do you mean? It’s going to be so much fun!” She whines. “We just finished our midterms, we need to celebrate! What could you be even working on anyway?”

“There’s a presentation after midterms for some fucking reason, I don’t know. Plus, it's a totally bad idea to bring me. Nothing good happens at frat parties.” You tell her, pointedly. You do this dance with her semi-frequently: she invites you, you say no, she asks why, you say why, she asks again, you (sometimes) give in. You’ve got this waltz down to a science.

“Can you finish it later? Come on, please? You skipped out on the last three.” She looks at you with pleading eyes, ignoring your advice. You wonder if this was how she got everyone to do her bidding; pouting at them with her big brown eyes. You eye her suspiciously. It was true: you had denied her invitation to the last three events and probably the last three hosted by Sigma… what was it? Sigma Key? Whatever. You don’t particularly like most frat boys. In your experience, they tend to be on the annoying side… the very annoying side. The avoid-at-all-costs side.

You look at her as a smile grows on your face, “Will you do my laundry for a week when we get back from break?” At this point, you were considering going anyway, but you were going to try and milk it.

“And I’ll take out the trash.” She smiles back. Now… maybe hanging out in a dingy basement flanked by drunk college kids doesn’t sound that bad, right?

“Promise?”

She raises her hand as if to be sworn in to lawyerhood—or whatever they call it. “I, your loving, adoring roommate, solemnly swear to do your laundry and take out the trash for two weeks when we get back from break.” You suppress a laugh.

“What time is the party?” Satisfied, you surrender, albeit happily. She does manual labor for a couple weeks and you only have to go with her for a couple hours? Sounds like a dream.

“11pm.”

BUDDING ALCOHOLIC

The faint taste of tequila on your lips is your only reminder of your promise not to get the fuck out of dodge. If you hadn’t pregamed this party, you would have been regretting coming right about now, even if it means two weeks worth of chores being eliminated from your future. The music is noise-complaint worthy and not that good, even as far as frat music tends to go. Your best guess for timing is that it’s about midnight, and a couple of your peers are already drunk by the looks of it, making out by the window and stumbling on the grass out front. It already smells like vomit as you walk through the front door. To be fair, you’ve never been to a frat house in the daytime, so maybe the smell of vomit is just a permanent feature.

“You’re the best! Thanks for coming!” She swings an arm around you, at least a little tipsy. You shift in your Jen-approved outfit: a (very) tight black tank top, light-wash jeans, and a pair of Jen-borrowed, frat-designated, almost-destroyed sneakers. You’ve gathered from your brief excursions into the world of Greek life that this is the frat uniform.

“Hey, Jen-fer!” A guy, clearly a brother, comes up to the two of you with a cheeky smile on his face. It seems like every time someone greets Jen, she has a new nickname. Or maybe he’s just drunk and slurring his words. The guy looks like “people call me Chad but you can call me tonight” personified in his khaki shorts and impressively only slightly wrinkled t-shirt, sporting your school’s mascot with ‘VARSITY BASEBALL’ across it in loud, chunky lettering. “Who’s this?” He inquires as a girl swings her arm around his neck. The smile never leaves his face as he leans down to peck her. You watch as the girl and Jen have some sort of telepathic conversation by exchanging big smiles and little waves — she’s a sister, maybe? You really only know the girls that Jen’s closest to: Madelin (spelled like mandolin), Avery (who you thought was a boy for a couple months because you only know one other Avery, a boy), Elliann (whose name you remember how to spell only because you wrote Ellyanne once and you got a talking-to), and Gene (whose contact you have saved as the jeans emoji).

“Ugh, Jay! She’s my roommate, I told you about her.” You smile weakly as she points her attention towards you, “this is Jay. You remember Jay, right? From Econ?”

“Yeah… from Econ.” You mumble something unconvincing because you very much do not remember Jay from Econ. There are about a million Jay’s at this school. There’s Jason’s and James’s and Jongseong’s and Joshua’s and Julian’s who all go by Jay. Hell, there’s even a Jachariah (pronounced exactly like Zachariah but substitute the Z) who goes by Jay in your English Comp class. You think it would make sense to go by Jack (Like Zack) because there are less Jack’s, somehow, but whatever. When you return from zoning out, Jen starts talking at you. Some people are touchy drunks, some people are sad drunks, but Jen is a very, very talkative drunk. To be honest, she’s a talkative sober too.

She asks you to choose between the two drinks in her outstretched hands, naming both, though you can’t identify the taste or ingredients either, even with the name provided. Both looked like water.

Fuck it, what’s the difference? “Um, that one.” You say, pointing to the red cup in her right hand.

“Great! Are you okay on your own? I’m going to talk to Ellen!” She smiles big. Who’s Ellen? You have no idea. “Oh, hey! Meet my friend —hic! This is Tay!” She waves to someone behind you, and beckons them over with a finger. Great, now you have a Tae to keep track of. Her goodbye is sonorous, “Bye bye!”

“Bye, Jen-fer.” You tease her with the drawling nickname, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she waltzes off. You break into a slow smile as you see her leave. If you could remember what feeling sober is like, you would know by the drowsiness alone you’re a little more than tipsy. If Jen is a talkative drunk, you’re a sleepy drunk. You take a big swig of the red cup and it burns as it goes down, making you cough instinctively to get rid of the sensation. After taking a moment to compose, you shotgun the whole cup. Aside from the burning, you’re left with the distinctive aftertaste of artificial sweeteners sticking to your throat.

You back up a little, and bump right into a wall. You curse, thinking you probably looked stupid doing that… that is, before you nearly jump out of your skin when the wall puts a hand on your shoulder. Sufficiently scared, you jump right back to where you started like a tennis ball.

In your inebriation, you're pretty sure it might be the worst mistake of your life to look at the wall when you land eyes on the definitely-not-plaster you bumped into.

You realize that she was saying Tae, not Tay. Tae, though you know him as Taesan, is the name of a—kinda emo—guy in your World Literature class who you decided was cute one time when zoning out in a lecture and have been a little shy around ever since. Why is he here? A frat does not seem like his scene. Your drunk self agrees with your sober self on the former issue, however. He is cute—really cute. His hair is straight and black and his bangs fall just above his eyebrows. You were definitely catastrophizing, because bumping into Taesan is maybe the best thing you could have hoped for at this Greek-whatever party.

“Oh… it’s Taesan!” It doesn’t even cross your mind to suppress the giant grin that spreads across your face as you say his name as you sway. “Can I call you that instead of Tae? Too many ay’s around, I think.” You mumble, feeling as cloudy as ever.

He shrugs, “Sure, I mean, I call you by your full name, usually.”

Mostly ignoring him, you continue, focusing on the way the edges of his lips curl like he’s suppressing a smile. Squinting at him, you monologue. “You’re cute. But you’re bad at…” You squint harder, circling your finger in front of his face as if to cast a spell. He looks a little confused with his straight eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t look scared—yet. If you were in your right mind, you would have been amazed and totally terrified that you hadn’t scared him off with the wiggly finger. Maybe the slipped compliment at the beginning helped build some rapport? “You’re bad at… analysis.” You decide on pinpointing a weakness of his. Now, his analysis is actually pretty good. Sure, he's not going to win any awards with it, but who is in an undergraduate World Literature class taught by a less-than-enthusiastic professor nearing retirement? The alcoholic fog is just a little much, anyway. Maybe you’re more of a lightweight than you care to admit.

“I think my analysis is pretty good, actually.” He frowns, but doesn’t seem offended in the slightest. He’s always quiet in lecture, you’re surprised he hasn’t made a quick excuse to get away yet.

You part your lips as you squint harder and point up at his face again, grasping for words that don’t come all that easy to you. “You… should kiss me.” As the words fall out of your mouth, he seems to look around a little bit in surprise. To your luck, he still doesn’t run screaming.

It’s his turn to point a finger at himself and his cool, bad-boy act slips, “kiss—kiss me?” He stutters, going wide-eyed and glancing around like this is a big reality TV-style prank and there are cameramen waiting in the shadows of this sticky, stinky basement, itching to catch him off guard. Perhaps you’re subconsciously practicing rejection therapy.

“Yeah… you should analyze kissing me.” You attempt a smile as you try to keep your eyes open. The music is pounding in your ears as you stare into the gap between him and the wall to his left.

Still dumbfounded, he tries to find words, now staring at you staring off into space, “well, uh… you… that would be cool, but… I don’t… I don’t think you actually want to kiss me. You smell like tequila.” The alcohol is definitely taking its toll on you, evidenced by the way you lean forward and slump onto the boy in front of you, closing your eyes. His words don’t even go in one ear and out the other, they go over your head entirely. You could feel his body heat even through his thick navy tee. You hear his heartbeat and—you’re no medical student—it’s loud. With your eyes closed, you hear the DJ switch the song to something with less bass and you feel a warm hand come to your shoulder blade, patting it awkwardly. You hear an attempt at words coming from his vocal chords, but you hear nothing identifiable as human language. Just a few um’s and maybe an uh.

“Hey, Tae!” You hear Jen approach behind you, calling out to the boy who you’ve designated as your new mattress. You open your eyes for a second, and you’re kindly greeted with a view of his chest. Slowly analyzing your field of vision (which includes a fuzzy wall and his shirt), you blink once, twice, and then, the third time you close them, they stay closed. As fast as that, you’re gone: disappeared, asleep.

Before you can open your eyes again, you’re assaulted by a pounding headache. You haven’t felt a headache like this since the first time you got drunk with Jen. You’d assumed you’d learned your lesson. This time, it’s not a good thing that you exceeded your own expectations.

You open your eyes and see a rather unwelcome sight of Jen who has her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. It’s certainly not helping your headache. As you come to consciousness, you become aware of the damp, suffocating sweat that clings to your body and the aching that you feel in each and every of your muscles and joints. You can’t even lift a finger.

“Hey. Wake up! Don’t worry, you’re not dying. It’s just a hangover.” She consoles you, but she doesn’t stop pushing you, however. “You drank way too much.” She laughs, drawing out her words and turning her head to the side as her hair falls in front of her face.

You muster your words, “what?” Your voice is grainy and low. You feel like pure, unadulterated hell. The pounding in your head doesn’t stop, it just migrates from one side to the other. Back to left to front to right and back again like a cue ball bouncing around the table.

“You… are… hung… over.” She says like she's trying to teach a baby to say mama. You groan and roll over, freeing yourself from her manicured hands and burying your head in your sheets. As you roll over, you feel the familiar and deeply uncomfortable scratch of the seam of your jeans. You were still wearing the clothes you wore to the party, hooray! “And,” she continues, “you’re going to tell me why Han Taesan is at our door.” Her voice sounds half like she’s scolding you and half like she’s waiting for you to spill. Processing this information, you scrunch your eyes and groan again.

“He’s not.” You deny with a murmur despite the knocking that you hear on the door. The person at the door, reportedly Taesan, knocks one, two, three times.

“He is. He wants to know how you are… tell me what happened between you two!” She urges.

“You’re lying. He is not at the door.” Maybe if you say it enough he’ll go away. Manifesting, you know? You want to know nothing about why he’s here. The party last night was a blur. You remember drinking, seeing a couple familiar faces, bumping into Taesan and then it’s dark and you wake up in your bed with Jen shaking you.

“He is.” She says solemnly. She cocks her head and continues in a more sympathetic tone, “do you want me to tell him to go away?” She asks.

“Yes.” Regardless of whether you want to see him, specifically, you don’t want to see anyone at all. You’re still in your clothes from last night, your whole body hurts, you feel like total crap, and you doubt you showered last night. You do not want to see Han Taesan, and that’s final.

“Yes, ma’am.” She says and jumps off the tall bed. Through half-lidded eyes, you see her crack the door and exchange words with the visitor. You confirm it’s Taesan when his stupid face appears in the crack. Almost involuntarily you close your eyes. As the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind. Even with a foggy mind and a throbbing headache, you know nothing good can come out of talking to him, or even seeing him, when you’re so wildly hungover. You feel like a ghost haunting your body. You hear the door shut, and you open your eyes to see Jen shimmying over to you with her eyebrows raised and a disbelieving smile across her face. You close your eyes again, you do not want to see or hear what she has to offer unless it’s an ibuprofen.

“I can’t believe he came to check up on you! Isn’t that sweet? I have no idea what was happening with you two before I got there, but he was so cute about you. He looked so nervous! It’s not like him at all.” You can practically hear her dancing around in excitement. “Your love life never goes anywhere, this is so exciting!” You grumble in protest at her jab at you. She’s been begging to let her set you up with someone, but the only people she knows are frat bros and sorority girls, neither of which are your type, usually. Is Taesan part of a frat? Doesn’t seem like him.

“Jen… advil… please.” You reach out for her with a weak hand.

“You’re not dying.” She assures you, but dutifully returns to your bedside with two little red pills, a bottle of water, and a bag of goldfish. This is how Jen is, you’ve learned; poking fun at you while still looking out for you. “Come on, take them.” She says, holding out the pills. “You’re lucky it’s a Saturday. For a hangover, you need water, food, and sleep.” She recites. Maybe hangover care is a required class for members of the sorority known for the most functions.

“Thanks…” You mutter, bringing a weak hand to your still pounding forehead. “What happened?” You ask. It might help to know what you’re up against in terms of embarrassment.

“Before I got there? No idea. After I got there? Well, you were passed out,” she laughs, “I had no idea you could fall asleep that fast. He looked crazy confused, having you slung over him and all, you know? Anyway, he was dry sober, he just got there. I had the car, obviously, and so he offered to give you a ride back to the dorm in my car. Now, I went with you, of course. For one, I’m always going to come with you when you’re asleep and being taken care of by some man. Two, there’s no way I’m letting any man drive my car without serious supervision.” Now, this elicits a stifled laugh from you, after which you immediately wince in pain. Laughing isn’t good medicine for hangovers, apparently. “Anyway, he picked you up bridal-style, it was really cute, and brought you to our car, and then drove both of us home. I put you to bed, and he left after.” She states, "I wiped your drool, don’t worry.” She nudges you with an elbow.

“Ugh, Jen. Don’t joke with me right now.”

“No, seriously, you did drool. It’s one of, like, five reasons I’m never going to put you in a room with alcohol ever again.”

“I told you it was a bad idea to bring me.” You lament. You don’t like the idea of drooling in the vicinity of Taesan. And he carried you to the car? Seriously, not a high point for your ego. It’s not even about your germinal maybe-crush on him. “Give me some goldfish.”

“You always say that it’s a bad idea, but okay.” She hands you a handful and you shove it into your mouth. It doesn’t mix well with the morning-breath taste and somehow lingering tinge of alcohol. Your head is pounding and if the headache doesn’t kill you, the embarrassment might.

THE ILLUSION

Dr. Woo claps his hands together as the final undergrad enters the lecture hall. The long tables that act as desks proceed away from the central board in stairs.

“Yeah. Big project coming up, right?” He says with a hint of fake enthusiasm. “It’s going to be a group project, if two people count as a group. Hooray.” A resounding groan emanates from the student body. Dr. Woo is visually unphased by this. “Despite the fact that choice is an illusion, you can pick your own partners. This is college. I don’t care.” He waves a hand dismissing any rebuttal, not that any was coming. Regardless of any other feelings about Dr. Woo, everyone knows he’s a great (read: easy) grader. “Anyway, go crazy. You all know the topic.”

Your heart drops as the room immediately erupts in chattering. Your circle was small at best, and you knew no one in World Lit except for… oh no. You feel a tap on your shoulder. Almost in slow motion, you turn around and see Taesan’s damned handsome face.

“Hey,” he says, very, very casually, “do you want to be my partner?” Oh, what the fuck.

“Um…” You furrow your eyebrows. It’s not that you don’t want to be partners with him, really. It’s just that you don’t want to recoil in embarrassment every time you work on a project worth 20% of your grade.

He cocks his head to the side, “so?” You’re pretty sure his face could bring world peace. Have him try to convince a warlord to stop fighting by flashing a smile and they’d be a pacifist in under ten minutes.

You sigh, “yeah. Sure.” You try to smile, it doesn’t work that well. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? Do it for the plot, right? Choosing to partner with him is definitely for the plot. You’re not entirely convinced that he’s pure in his intentions to partner with you; maybe this is part of a bigger frat boy scheme.

“My analysis is actually good, I swear.” He says as he pulls back the chair next to you to sit down. Is that a reference? To what? You are thoroughly confused, clearly remembering very little of that fateful night. He tucks his hands behind his head and leans back.

“What?” You laugh a little, if only out of awkwardness.

He presses his lips together and they contort as if a laugh is threatening him. “Nevermind. It’s nothing, really.” He is utterly unconvincing when he lies. Maybe he couldn’t convince the warlord.

“Taesan, what?” Your arms cross as you lean back in your chair. Around you, there’s a buzz of new partnerships and dates being set to meet. You two, however, are alone in your own world. In your periphery, Dr. Woo is staring you down. You’re pretty sure he can sense when work isn’t getting done. You can’t tell if he’s just a salty old man or a teenager with a gossip itch trapped in an old professor’s body.

Taesan notices, “Dr. Woo is creeping me out. I’ll tell you in the hall.” He picks up one of your pens and hands it to you in a non subtle suggestion for you to pack up.

You sling your backpack over one shoulder (despite how you’re told it’s bad for your back) and lead Taesan out of the lecture hall.

“So, are you partners with me just to make fun of me?” You probe him as he catches up to you. “I’m taking you to my dorm, by the way. We can get started on the project.” There’s a silent addition of ‘even if you’re being an asshole, I chose to be stuck with you for some reason’ when you give him a purposeful glance. Maybe Dr. Woo is right. Maybe choice is an illusion. He looks completely lost.

“No, no. It’s not like that, really. I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I just thought it was funny.” He turns around and shakes his head to punctuate his point.

“Is it better if I don’t know what happened at the party?” One eyebrow raises and you stare him down with some weird level of confidence. Maybe knowing that he’s seen you drooling, drunk, and looking crazy makes you feel like you don’t have much else to lose.

“No, nothing bad happened. You were just drunk. It happens to the best of us.” He shrugs as you enter onto the green.

“Don’t drag this out, let me bite the bullet if I want to.”

He laughs a little, “alright. In summary, you backed into me, told me I was cute, told me my analysis sucks,” so that’s what that was about, “and told me I should kiss you and I told you that you were too drunk,” oh, what the fuck, “and then you fell asleep on me and Jennifer came over. I carried you to the car and drove both you and her home because she had a couple drinks and I had none. I checked up on you because I knew you were going to have one hell of a hangover.” Great, you’re stuck with this fucker you borderline harassed while blackout drunk.

“You were right. It was one hell of a hangover.” You grumble, looking at the floor to avoid any eye contact with him.

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re not the first person to tell me I’m cute when they’re drunk.” He teases and you roll your eyes. In your heart, though, this is deeply, deeply embarrassing. The thought of what happened stings like a blade in your heart and in your mind. It’s not as bad as the hangover, but it’s pretty damn bad.

“Yeah, right. I was drunk, okay?” Your words are biting. “Why are you partners with me, then? I wasn’t that great the one time you met me.” Maybe you don’t want to know the answer, but the words are already out of your mouth. You scuff your heels as you walk, still avoiding contact with the one and only Han Taesan.

“You’re cute and you’re smart.” He shrugs and you break your rule of avoiding his eyes because now you’re staring at him in disbelief. “Plus, you’re great at keeping me humble.” He meets your eyes now and you’re immediately regretting thinking anything about the previous compliment meant anything at all.

“If you keep being a jerk, I’m going to keep you humble as hell.” You grumble.

“Sorry,” he frowns mildly, “the first part holds more weight.” And now, you’ve flipped. It does mean something… maybe. You face forward again to hide a smile that he totally catches anyways. You’ve made great time alongside Taesan, you’re almost to your dorm.

“Thanks?”

“My pleasure.” He postures. “Why were you there in the first place? No offense, but you don’t strike me as an alcoholic. An alcoholic can handle being drunk better than that.” It’s sort of a compliment, you guess.

“None taken, I don’t believe that being an alcoholic is in the cards for me.” You snort. “Jen dragged me there. I told her it was a bad idea, but she convinced me to go anyway by bribing me with doing my least favorite chores for a week or two.” You explain, crossing your arms and he laughs. “No offense, you don’t seem like you’re part of the frat nor do you seem like an alcoholic. So, what were you doing there?” You redirect. It’s true: he doesn’t seem like a brother nor a drinker.

“I lost a bet. Riwoo bet me that I couldn’t fit fifteen grapes in my mouth and I wanted to prove him wrong because, well, he’s Riwoo, but I lost the bet.” A laugh bubbles up from your chest imagining the situation. Not only did he try, but he tried and failed. “My punishment was either to go to a frat or to do mine and six of my roommates’ laundry for a semester. I picked the frat, obviously. I’ve lived with those guys for long enough to know that all of them stink like hell.” He adds, grimacing. “Plus, ‘doing laundry’ meant changing the sheets and picking up laundry, too.” He looks at you, pointedly.

“You’re lying, no way.” You laugh, partly with him and partly at him.

“You clearly haven’t met my roommates, this way?” His finger points to the building that you’re rooming in with Jen. You pray she’s not there or you’re going to be met with a litany of highly invasive questions.

You nod at his direction, “yeah, there are like seven thousand people here and I can recognize about thirty faces max. That’s like nothing-percent.”

“Good for me, then. I don’t think I’d be the first person you’d be calling cute if they were there with me.” The tone of his voice is light, but in his eyes you see that he fears it’s the truth. Huh, Taesan is just like the rest of us, who’da thunk?

“Where did your cool guy act go?” You tease, leading him up the stairs to your dorm, distinguished by the handmade felt pennants, spelling your’s and Jen’s names. “Drunk me wasn’t lying when she said you were cute, seriously.” You assure him. “Now, I just have to learn if your analysis is as bad as she said it was.” You push open the door with your back, mostly so you don’t have to face him after calling him cute to his face. Last week, you would have run away on the spot; Taesan has you acting like a bad ATM—all out of order.

ENTOURAGE

You hated to admit it, his analysis was great. By spending hours writing and rewriting scripts to memorize for your oral presentation, you watched Taesan connect dots you didn't even know were there and recall obscure details from lectures that happened to be integral to the coherence of your project. You can practically see the cogs turn in his head, the way he bites the inside of his lip when he’s really focused, the way his face lights up when he gets an idea, the way he slides his thin wire glasses up his straight nose with a knuckle when they slip down because he furrowed his eyebrows too much.

This is how you find yourself at four on a Wednesday afternoon, weeks after your first incidental meeting with him: admiring his work on your dorm floor.

“Damn, Taesan.” You still kept to calling him his full name instead of Tae, you felt like it meant something. “This is amazing, I would have never thought to connect those passages, we read that first book ages ago!” You shook your head, his analysis was that good. Maybe not award-winning, but definitely worth an A, even in your harshest grader’s class. He smirks as he laughs a little, taking off his glasses and stretching his hands up, grasping at nothing while trying to stretch his back. You two had been sitting for hours on the hard floor of your dorm room; you told him to sit on your chair, but he refused, demanding he sit next to you so that he can ‘see what you’re writing’ better.

“You brought up At the Bottom of the River in the first place.” He deflects your praise. You’ll gladly take the compliment even if you had no part in his discovery. As you shrug his deflection off, you feel his arm come down around your shoulder and you jump a little, not expecting the touch. Of course, his hand feels nice where it rests, but you’re still not quite used to the way Taesan evidently shows affection. The first time he pulled the classic ‘I’m-just-stretching-actually-I’m-putting-my-arm-around-you’ move, you didn’t expect it in the slightest. You had finished a part you were putting off and he moved to stretch, suddenly putting his arm around you and shaking you while cheering you on about your victory. The laugh you let out when that happened was something entirely unprecedented for you, you laughed until your stomach hurt and your eyes watered, and you couldn’t even pinpoint why.

“Yeah, sure.” You look at him, exaggerating your skepticism with your one raised eyebrow, his arm still around you.

“When’s Jen getting back? Do we have time to mess around or should I go before she starts pestering you?” He asks, half-joking as he tilts his head towards yours. Jen had taken a liking to him, if not too much of a liking to him… for you. Whenever you and Taesan were together and Jen spotted you, she made the least subtle comments possible telling you to get together, wiggling her eyebrows and full of exaggerated winks. It wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Hey, look at the position you two are in right now: foreheads so close they’re almost touching, alone in your dorm, with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Still, you’ve gathered that’s just kind of how Taesan is with his friends. From what you’ve heard, he’s like that with everyone. It’s not unique to you.

“She said she’d be back at five, so…” you check the egg clock, “like, thirty minutes?”

“Nice.” He purses his lips. “Are you nervous for the presentation? It’s tomorrow, you know?” Taesan has his sensitive moments, for sure. He sounds—he is—genuinely concerned about how you’re feeling about it, you can hear it in his voice. He’s not great at hiding things like that. Even when he’s making fun of you, it’s never malicious.

“I’m fine. I’m nervous, but it is a big presentation, after all. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You tell him, flexing an arm to prove your point, though the action is inhibited by his arm still around you.

“Never doubted you for a second, Miss Independent. You can still be nervous though, it’s okay to be nervous.”

“Are you nervous? You sound like you’re projecting.”

He exhales, “yeah, I’m nervous as hell.” He laughs a little after the admission, but it’s not a humorous one.

“Hey, text me if you get nervous before, right? Doesn’t help to keep it to yourself. And, no offense, but I think I’ll be better at commiserating with you than your roommates, however lovely they are.”

He exhales. “Yeah, thanks.” He’s being surprisingly soft, and you can’t help but seize the opportunity to connect a little with the sensitive side of Taesan instead of the cool, nonchalant Taesan. From what you’ve gathered, his Nirvana-decorated headphones, monochrome black clothes, and his sullen resting face makes him less approachable to your peers.

“You’ll be fine. As you said to me when we were partnered, you’re cute and you’re smart. You’ve got it.” You tell him, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Can you feel someone’s heartbeat through their shoulder? Probably not, but the human body is full of surprises. One surprise is how hard you can see his pulse through his carotid artery, pulsing in his neck. Good God, this boy is going to get high blood pressure if his heart is always going a million miles an hour. “Tell me about writing music. I’m tired.” You tell him, closing your eyes.

You’re brought back to what you were told about the first time you met him. This time, however, you falling asleep on him isn’t so much of a surprise. Your knowledge of composition contrasts Taesan’s, you know little more than the basics. Asking him to talk about it is an easy route to a one-sided conversation where you get to listen to him talk, which is always a good time. He gets so animated, it’s hilarious and adorable.

“Your wish is my command.” He laughs, and you feel the vibration against your head and he starts on a critically tangential spiel.

Before you can get too comfortable leaning on Taesan listening to him talk about rhyme schemes, the door swings open. Jen walks in after opening the door with her signature slam. Why you haven’t gotten any complaints yet, you have no idea.

“Oh… my God.” You can practically hear her freeze in the doorway. Out of sight, out of mind, so you keep your eyes closed.

“Jen, no one’s dying.” You assure her, suddenly deeply uncomfortable, shifting on the floor.

“You’re right, no one’s dying. My heart is so happy, look at you!” She almost giggles.

“Is this a good time for me to go?” Taesan starts to ask the pivotal question that’s going to determine exactly how embarrassed you are going to be this afternoon.

“Yes—” “No—” You and Jen say in unison. You open your eyes just to glare at her, seeing her standing over you.

“No… I’m going to get to know my best friend’s… group project partner.” She winks very not-subtly at you. Taesan looks at you just as you look at him, and he shrugs.

“The more the merrier, right?” He asks. The rhetorical question becomes immediately very literal as Jen continues.

“Oooh… I like the way he thinks, girl.” She says, pointing to you. “Taesan, invite your roommates over, too. We can have a party!” She’s almost clapping with how excited she is, rolling back on her heels.

Taesan lights up, “oh hell yeah! I’ll see who’s available.” Oh, Taesan. Always the extrovert.

You groan, but it’s futile to try and stop the scheming. How did this get so bad so fast? “No drinking.” You instruct them.

“Half of them can’t even drink legally yet, plus, do you seriously think I’m going to drink the night before our presentation? No way.” He assures you, and you groan again in hesitant acceptance.

“I’m never letting you drink again. Don’t worry about that.” She promises you quietly before switching back to hyped-up Jen mode. “Oh, this is so exciting! When can they get here?” She’s sitting cross-legged in front of you two now, rifling through contacts on her phone in its sparkly case.

“Well,” Taesan pauses, “If they’d answer my texts—” ding! Almost like he scripted it, he gets a notification. “And there we go. Turns out they’re just hanging out at our place, all of them are free. Do you want them here now?”

“Hell yeah, I do! We should watch a movie… what movie should we watch? Don’t tell me they like horror…” She pushes her eyebrows together in what sounds half like a threat and half like a plea.

“Yeah, not that I know of.”

“We should watch 10 Things I Hate About You.” You suggest.

And that’s how you got to be sitting in a circle on your room’s floor with Taesan, Jen, and every single one of Taesan’s five roommates. You’d only briefly met a couple of them in passing before. Right now, you’re even managing to not cut each others’ throats out while playing UNO! What an achievement!

“And the color is… wait for it!” Taesan’s roommate with the light brown, almost orange hair and rounder, blueish-green black glasses says, leaning around to intimidate the others with a giant smile on his face. Everyone erupts in laughter at him. You remember that this is Riwoo, the one who dared Taesan to stuff 15 grapes in his mouth in the first place. “Blue!” He announces.

Your last card was red. Damn it.

Jaehyun immediately slumps over, Sungho frowns, Leehan stares at the card deck and Woonhak stares, terrified, at Jen when she jumps up, screaming “Uno!” as she slams her blue five on the pile. Shouts resound from the boys around you. Taesan is laughing.

As the room erupts around you, Taesan nudges you with his shoulder, showing you his card. His last color was red, too. “We’re both winners in my heart.” He tells you with a wink. What a sap. You push his face away with a hand, stifling a laugh as you feel a heat come to your cheeks. Your light push makes him dip away from you like the inflatable tube men outside gas stations.

“You’re so corny.” You tell him as you take in the scene unfolding around you. Inviting Taesan’s friends over was a great idea. Jen is yelling at Jaehyun, Jaehyun looks terrified. Woonhak and Sungho are yelling at Riwoo, Riwoo is laughing at them. Leehan is laughing at Riwoo laughing at Woonhak and Sungho.

Taesan catches you smiling at the camaraderie, “if people yelling at each other was all it took to make you smile, I’d have invited them over way earlier.”

“Taesan,” you laugh, “I don’t like schadenfreude. It’s nice to see Jen let loose sometimes. I don’t think she gets to argue with anyone very often.”

“If she wants anyone to argue with, I’m available.” He spreads his arms to punctuate his point. At this, you laugh even harder. As you look around again, you see everyone laughing and collapsing on the floor, except for Jen, who’s pretending to fume and sulk on her bed. You know her well enough to catch the smile that pulls at her lips.

“It’s like watching kids at the park.” You motion towards Taesan’s friends, who’ve clearly become very comfortable around you and Jen.

“This weird authenticity is kind of their whole M.O.” He smiles, very clearly adoring their antics. “Imagine having to do their laundry though. I’m glad I chose to go to the party instead.” He pretends to shiver which draws out a laugh from you.

“Yeah, if you had chosen to do their laundry you also wouldn’t have been able to see me drool on you when you carried me to the car.” You snort. You’ve made peace with your drunken night. After all, you’ve already lost your dignity and he’s still hanging around.

“It was so cute though!” He contests and you roll your eyes at him. You have sworn up and down that he doesn’t like you like… that. Even if he did like you, you’re pretty sure no one likes anyone else enough that their drool is cute. Therefore, Jen’s points are null. Simple as that.

“I’m just soooo adorable,” you roll your eyes, “you don’t have to rub it in, dude.” you smile incredulously at him, throwing one of your legs over the other, just short of taking out Riwoo’s leg.

“I’m not joking!” His tone is defensive in ultimate Taesan fashion.

“Yeah, sure.” You tell him as Jen reaches out to you and pulls you to your feet, leaving Taesan alone on the floor.

Jen whispers to you, “so, when’s the wedding?” You roll your eyes.

“Shut up, you always do this.” You groan. “Do you get some sadistic joy from seeing me uncomfortable?” You cross your arms, almost elbowing Woonhak. This room is not big enough for eight people to fit in comfortably.

“Can I be the maid of honor?” She ignores your complaints and you let out an exaggerated groan in response.

“Don’t make me regret not making him go home.”

“Fine, fine.” She looks to be backing down. That is until she smirks, meeting your eyes again. “I’m not the only one who sees something!” She says cheerily before bouncing off as far as one can, which is about a foot. She looks back at you and winks before (lightly) punching Woonhak in the back to get his attention. She’s immediately drawn into some debate of some sort or another. Earlier, Leehan had assigned you both fish and Jen had been assigned a ‘Cherry Barb’ and she immediately took issue with the name for some reason or other. It was very cathartic for Taesan to watch someone contest Leehan’s fish opinions. He was totally dumbstruck; it was hilarious. Then, of course, you got an informational speech from Leehan which quelled Jens’ argument. Now, she’s a Cherry Barb.

Maybe this is how it should be, friends arguing with friends and laughing about it after, cramped in a too small room. When you meet Taesan’s eyes, you see the sparkle in them tell you he thinks so too. Maybe your friends will become the opposite of children of divorce, gaining family instead of it being separated. Is that just children of marriage? Ugh, Jen’s infected you.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Taesan wiggles his eyebrows, clearly having heard the conversation. You roll your eyes.

BREAKING CODE

Jen is passed out on her bed on the opposite side of the room. The egg clock greets you with the time in blaring white: 11:32 pm. Head in your hands, you groan. No amount of free-on-youtube reality TV was going to calm your nerves. None of your favorite episodes are helping, even the one you have open on your computer.

After the boys had left, you guaranteed yourself that everything would be fine. Your presentation would go great, no questions asked. Now, sitting in your room practically alone, you feel way less optimistic.

Thoughts of Taesan cross your mind and you furrow your eyebrows, trying to shoo them. You wonder if he’s awake right now, if he’s anxious like you. You try to calm yourself by thinking that it could be worse, the presentation could be 30% of your grade. Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t help. Your phone, thrown aside earlier and laying on the bed, is practically inviting you to make a bad decision with its open, empty screen.

You stare out the window, contemplating whether or not to take the risk and text him. Your window opens up to a view of the door to enter your dorm building, and you can see the freshly fallen snow settling around it. The snow covers the creaky benches and even the overhang above the door. It’s while you're doing this contemplating that, to your fortune or maybe misfortune, the risk decides to take you with a ding from your phone.

On your home screen, you see a contact pop up and you freeze. You read the name again, it still says MOUNTAIN. Taesan put that as his contact name.

You look again, you weren’t hallucinating. It’s Taesan texting you. Is he nervous? Did he seriously take you up on your offer? You were simultaneously hoping that he would text you while hoping that he would never, ever even think to.

You steel yourself and open your phone, that’s when you get your answer.

[MOUNTAIN]: are you up [MOUNTAIN]: i’m nervous are you

You did tell him to text you if he was nervous. That offer, however, happened when you were feeling a little bolder. You are not feeling especially bold right now.

[you]: i might be [MOUNTAIN]: meet me lets go to the convenience store [MOUNTAIN]: chills me out before midterms usually and this is like the same thing

You didn’t need to even try to make a bad decision, the bad decision came to you, enticing you with the lure of a convenience store and a chance to escape your stuffy dorm.

Resting your phone on your chest, staring at the ceiling like a corpse with the way your hands are positioned, you weigh your options. Mentally, you make a list.

PROs:

You see Taesan

You get a snack probably

CONs:

You see Taesan

It’s been established that crazy shit goes down when you see Taesan past like nine pm—it’s like your friendship is a vampire but night-intolerant instead of day-intolerant

The last time you made a for the plot decision it didn’t turn out that bad. Yeah, partnering with Taesan could have sucked, but it didn’t. Going to the party was a kind of yolo-esque decision, too, and that was kind of a blessing in disguise. You rationalize your preference for meeting him with the fact that you know him better now. He’s not a rando and, as far as you know, he’s not evil.

You only live once, right?

You pick your phone back up and text him before you can rethink it.

[you]: meet where? [MOUNTAIN]: outside your dorm building in 10

You squint at the screen. His place is like a twenty minute walk away and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have a car, that would be weird for him. You can’t pinpoint why, but you don’t like the idea of him owning a car, despite the fact that he’s driven Jen’s with you in it. Ugh.

[you]: okay

You are totally chill about this.

Looking over at Jen in her bed, you decide you don’t want to be interrogated about this decision yet. She will not let you hear the end of it, and that’s not going to calm your nerves. It’s kind of against customary law safety recommendations to not tell your roommate where you’re going at night, but you decide that’s not applicable here.

Taking your computer off your lap and swinging your feet over the side of your bed as quietly as possible, you assess the situation. The nice thing about totally embarrassing yourself the first time you met him is that you now don’t particularly care about how you look. You’re wearing Jen’s mother’s giant Hartford Whalers hockey team brand shirt and some irritatingly red plaid pajama pants that totally crash with the cool blues and greens of your shirt.

Tiptoeing to the square, wooden-framed mirror hung in the entrance you check how your hair looks. You pull on your oversized puffer jacket as quietly as possible from the command hook-provided coat hanger adorning off the back of the exit door. The zipper is cold in your hands as you check to make sure Jen is oblivious to your impending excursion. She is still fast asleep, evident from the way her chest slowly rises and falls and the faint snores that you hear from her.

The door handle is freezing to the touch. You expected as much from a dorm building with as little central heating as it tends to cater, but it’s still unpleasant. The door opens with a loud creak. You stand assured that no one has successfully snuck out of any single one of these dorms because the floorboards creak and the doors practically announce over the loudspeaker when anyone opens them.

Thankfully, Jen is none the wiser as you glance back at her, she’s in the same sleeping position you last saw her in: lying on her stomach with one leg thrown up closer to her chest and an arm flung over her head. It’s completely bizarre and totally adorable of her.

You make your way through the straightforward yet somehow labyrinthine halls of your dorm building. As you approach the glass entryway, you see Taesan illuminated by the orange streetlight, leaning against the red brick of the adjacent building standing on a recently-hardened layer of snowfall. He’s layered an unzipped black puffer jacket, similar to yours, over a gray hoodie and accessorised with a hat that makes his head look round like an egg. He’s rubbing his gloved hands together to keep them warm. He sees you before you even open the door, and his face lights up when he does.

After suppressing a smile, you scold him, “I can’t believe you called me to meet you at this hour!”

“You told me I could!” He defends. You notice how you can see his breath against the cold air. It’s colder than you thought, you push your bare hands further into your pockets.

“How did you even get here so fast? Do you secretly live in the next building, or something? Are you my tropey boy next door?” You nudge him, wiggling your eyebrows as if this was some plot straight out of a fanfiction.

“Yeah, right.”

“Come on, you’re not secretly pining for me?” You tease him, sinking deeper into the collar of your coat on account of the biting wind that hits you once you leave the sanctuary of the protected building and, though you’re not willing to admit it to yourself, because the boy next to you makes your cheeks hot.

“Yeah, I’m secretly hanging off of your every word, just waiting for the moment I can confess my undying love for you.” He rolls his eyes. Noticing your hands shoved in your pockets, he changes the subject, “are you cold? I brought some extra gloves, do you want them?” His words are surprisingly considerate considering the incessant teasing you subject him to daily.

“Yeah.” You laugh, freezing as he takes the knit black gloves out of his pocket. Taking them from him and putting them on, you adjust them carefully. They’re far too big for you, but it’s the thought that counts, right? The “thought that counts” is definitely keeping your hands warmer. As you examine your new apparel with a smile, you feel a pressure over your head. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed him taking his hat off and now he is pushing it onto your head. You jump back, “hey! You could have lice!” Your smile disappears in favor of a pout. The hat does feel nice on your ears though.

Taesan bursts out laughing, “I do not have lice, I promise.” Still laughing, he elaborates, “plus, you’re cold. Your ears were so cold they were getting red.” You glare at him as he only laughs harder. Instinctively, you throw up your hands to cover your ears

“Point me to the convenience store or I’m going back inside whether you’re nervous or not.” You grumble.

“Okay, Miss Grump. Just follow me.” He says with a stupidly charming smile and grabs your wrist before picking up the pace. To him, picking up the pace means speed-walking, but for you, it means jogging.

“Ack!” You jump at the sudden movement, “Taesan! You can’t do that!” You try to free your wrist and, when you succeed, you cross your arms, standing solid in place as he turns around.

“If you don’t come with me, I’ll yell that you think Heath Ledger is super sexy during the presentation!” He yells, running backwards. Your jaw drops open. You want to trust Taesan enough to think he wouldn’t do that, but you also know Taesan well enough that he totally would do that. It was a bad idea to watch 10 Things I Hate About You with him, Jen, and his roommates after the Uno game. You do not need your personal preferences aired out to an auditorium of your peers and Dr. Woo. Plus, the only thing you like about Heath Ledger is that he essentially serenaded Kat Stratford!

Damn it. Stuck between would and would not, you narrow your eyes and start sprinting after him before he can turn a corner.

“You’re so on, Mr. Mountain!” He turns to look behind him, seeing you gaining fast on him as you run as fast as your legs will take you towards him. It’s his turn to be surprised, and he speeds up. After all, he wasn’t going that fast in the first place. As you close the gap between the two of you, you can hear his infectious laughter that makes you press down a swelling in your chest. You do not like Taesan, you assure yourself. It’s all in good fun. It’s only good fun. Focusing on the challenge ahead, you see Taesan just ahead of you, about to turn down a sidewalk.

He’s right behind a snowbank. If you’re the sun and the snowbank is the earth, he’s the moon in a solar eclipse.

It’s impulsive, your next action, truly. Presented with the right circumstances, however, you like to take your chances. With a shout that’s more primeval than you intended it to be, you grab onto his puffer jacket and tackle him onto the earth that is the snowbank.

It’s almost like slow-motion when you, with an evil smile, keep your eyes focused on Taesan as you see the world around you slowly become more horizontal as you fall, yourself falling on his back as he falls flat on his chest.

When his front compresses the snow enough to stop his descent towards the obscured grass, you hear him let out a moan. A moment of silence passes as both of you process what just happened. You’re propped up on your hands (gloved, thanks to Taesan) and he’s lying on his back, hands thrown above him because of his attempt at stabilization during the fall. His lips are slightly parted in shock, and his eyes are wide open, staring at you. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. He totally moaned when he fell. At least you can play teasing offense on him instead of having to defend why you tackled this man that is in no way, shape, or form your boyfriend. To be fair, men whimpering is hot. It’s just that you didn’t expect the man whimpering to be Taesan. It doesn’t really fit with his image.

You hold yourself up with one hand, clutching your stomach as you double over in laughter. “Oh my gosh, this is hilarious! I’m going to tell Riwoo that you moan when you get pushed around by women. He’ll never let you hear the end of it!” Taesan looks completely scandalized. His mouth is open and he looks totally terrified, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

He covers his eyes with his gloves, “don’t you dare say anything.” Tears form in your eyes as you attempt to suppress a laugh to try and spare any more of his dignity. That doesn’t extend to teasing, though. It’s simply too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“What if, during the presentation, I yell out that you moan when someone pins you down?” You theorize him, sitting down on the dry ground next to him, throwing your legs over his stomach.

Still holding his hands over his eyes, he mutters a defensive response, “it’s not like that!” Flat on his back, he looks, somehow, handsome with snow visible in and contrasting against his darker hair, and his gloves covering his reddening face in embarrassment. If you’re lucky, maybe this is how he felt watching you fall onto him when you were drunk the first time you met. It’s more adoration than disgust.

“Aw, there’s no shame in it.” You coax. He is completely and totally embarrassed, you can tell by the way his ears are bright, cherry red.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? What do you want?” He whines, refusing to look at you even when you try to pry his hands away from his face.

“Whatever we do and wherever we go together, it’s on you. Monetarily, I mean.” You push a finger into his chest as he finally frees his eyes from his own grip, daring to look at you face on.

“You serious?” He groans, he’s still red but looks to be over the initial shock. Either from the biting wind swirling around you or because of your teasing, his cheeks are coated in a dusting of red.

“Yeah, unless you want everyone to know about your sexual preferences.” Releasing him from your pushed finger, you cross your arms and shrug innocently.

“This is blackmail. This is extortion!” He complains, covering his eyes again.

“So… yes or no?” You grab his wrists and rip them from his face, revealing his angsty stare.

“...Yes, I’ll pay. Will you let it go now?” His words are harsher and he’s sulking, glaring at you. Maybe you pushed it too far.

“Hey, I meant it when I said it’s nothing to be ashamed about.” You let go of his wrists, opting to rub his shoulder instead, in an attempt to reassure him. “Listen, I lost my dignity by falling on you and drooling when we met, and you lost your dignity just now. Let’s just say we’re even.” You smile optimistically, hoping it will psych him into believing you because what you say is the truth, even if it’s a touchy subject, apparently.

Once he’s reminded of your not-so-cute meet-cute, he seems to relax a little. “You did drool like crazy. Do I really have to pay?” He’s smiling now, thank God. He rests his hands on his chest, looking way more comfortable.

“Yup. You do.” You laugh, it’s a softer laugh than your earlier fit, though. “Convenience store?” You prompt him, offering a hand to have him get up. As your hand interlocks with his, a smile tugs at the sides of your lips and you still can’t tell if the heat in your face is from the wind chill or Taesan. “And, take your hat back, idiot. Your ears are red.” The hat traps all the heat radiating from your flushed face and it makes you almost feel sweaty.

He laughs a little before speaking, “thanks for the hat. My ears are just so cold.” He jokes. “The store is just this way.” He points to the right he was going to take when you knocked him down. He was leading you the right way, at least. “Never try to blackmail me again, I swear.” He threatens, pouting, and then shoves you, however lightly. He doesn't look very scary.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.” You retort. He glares at you, keeping eye contact as you walk closer to the glowing, welcoming arms of the convenience store in the form of its bright lights, illuminating the street from the inside, casting an eerie glow onto the otherwise dark and snow-ridden street. In response to his look, you childishly blow a strawberry at him. This hasn’t been either of your finest hours. Your antics draw out a smile from him, at least. Practically skipping along, you try to change the subject to something less personal, maybe. “What did you expect when you called me out here? You said you were nervous, after all.”

“Yeah, I did say that. I got the pre-presentation nerves, you know? ‘Thought we could talk about it.” He rubs his neck. This is definitely a less personal topic, but that’s not to say it’s impersonal.

“So, talk.” You command, avoiding eye contact mostly so you don’t laugh, replaying him falling over.

“What is there to say? I had some nerves.” He laughs, opening the silvery door to the convenience store, stepping aside to let you through.

“What a gentleman,” you muse, “how’d you learn that? Rom-coms?”

“I’m allowed to be nice, too, you know. You watch more romantic comedies than me.” He rolls his eyes.

“I do it ironically.” You drawl. “I was nervous too, to be honest,” you were not going to tell him that you were watching rom-coms trying to relax, that would be a little too much ammo for him, “Jen was fast asleep and I was just kind of… lying there.” You pick up a miscellaneous chip bag, lazily inspecting it.

“Oh, I totally get it. The only other person awake was Leehan, and he was going to trap me in fish conversation if I even so much as approached him.” You snort at this. Even from your brief interactions with Leehan this afternoon, his passion is palpable. You can just see it in his face that he’s a little bit of an uber-nerd about those particular animals. Nerd is being used affectionately, of course. His interest is admirable. “Do you want those chips?” He asks, pointing to the bag in your hand.

“Not really, I like those other ones better.” You shrug, pointing to the alternative, an equally fluorescent bag of slightly better-tasting chips. “We can tame the worries together,” you smile at him, reaching behind you to grab your preferred flavor, “the question is how.”

“Going to the convenience store is a pretty good start.” He pushes his bottom lip into the top one. As you watch this action, he suppresses a smile, suddenly. “I have an idea.” Of course he does. He says this with a growing smile on his face as he locks eyes with you. “We should have a snowball fight.” Your own smile grows as he waits for your response.

“We should.” You nod. This time, you have an idea, a bad one. “Only if you moan again.” You charge him with the scandalous comment, and he looks affronted again, and immediately reaches out a free hand to shove you.

“Don’t say that so loud!” He hissed, looking around the almost empty store to see if anyone heard him. “That stays between you and me.” You roll your eyes but you can’t hide your amusement.

“Yeah, okay.” You walk off towards the cashier across the store to buy your snacks, sticking out your tongue at him. On the way, you inspect and in turn pick up a chocolate bar and a mediocre-looking apple to buy with your chips; it’s all about balance.

Taesan comes up behind you as you place your haul on the mini conveyor belt and gives a small bow to the cashier. He sets down two bags of chips and an enoki mushroom snack that has Japanese writing on it, for which you give him a disgusted look. Perusing his other selections, you smile when you see the second chip bag, for which you change your disgusted look for one of gratitude.

“Aw, did you get those for me?” You ask, pointing to the less perfect, but still pretty good flavor.

“No, I got them for… um…” He pauses, seemingly unable to think of someone else he would get them for. It’s kind of cute, if not a little embarrassing. “I got them for you. I can be kind, remember?” Sassy man apocalypse.

“Duly noted.” You purse your lips. You look at him expectantly, going from him to his card on the back of his phone, again.

“What?” He asks, innocently. Sungho wasn’t joking when he said that he looks like a cat. As he realizes you’re deadass, he narrows his eyes and turns to you, “are you serious about the whole paying thing?” He cocks his head.

“I was pretty clear. That is, unless you—” You’re cut off by Taesan clamping a hand over your mouth, for which he gets a repulsed and highly suspicious glare from the middle-aged cashier, he meets this with another bow, unclasping your face from his grip. When you’re let go, you raise your eyebrows at him as if to say ‘really?’ His hand smells like lavender soap, it’s kind of pleasant, actually. From the state of his and his roommates’ everything-but-sleeping room, you wouldn’t have guessed they were in possession of floral hand soap. When you’re done thinking about how he smells, you’re feeling a little embarrassed and also physically being led out of the store, hopefully after Taesan paid.

“Was that really necessary?” You ask, hands free because Taesan’s holding the store-provided bag that houses all of your treats.

“I don’t need anyone hearing about… that. Especially a middle-aged anyone.” He clarifies and fair enough. You take the opportunity, however, to scoop up a clump of snow (distinctly not yellow, you checked) and pitch it at him. Still carefully holding your bag, he looks at you with a sense of betrayal. “Oh, I’m going to get you.” He threatens before hurling a snowball that splashes against your only water-resistant coat.

Snowball after snowball is thrown, before your brief yet intense brawl is cut short by ice cold rain slicing through the air around you. Without Taesan’s hat, the sleet pummels your head and it hurts. Your puffer has no hood. Before you can let out an ‘ow,’ even, you find your oasis above you, a puffer. Taesan’s puffer. He managed to, in the short time it started sleeting and you noticed it, drop all of his stockpiled snowballs, pick up the convenience store’s bag, take off his puffer jacket, and cover your head with it, protecting you from the harsh, half-frozen rain. When you look at his face to your right, he looks totally angelic. The streetlight behind him makes him look like he has a halo from the light filtering through the edges of his hair. He’s smiling, despite all the teasing and irritation you put him through in the short time you’ve been out of your dorm.

“Yikes, that came fast.” He comments, looking around and noticing how the sleet pelts down around the two of you. “I’ll take you home, I think it’s our cue to wrap this up.” He suggests. His sweetness contrasts against the wistful feeling that unexpectedly forms when he mentions parting. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or maybe it’s the chill getting to you, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine, it’s the most you’ve laughed since Jen told you the crazy goings-on between her highschool ex-girlfriend and one of her friends. Apparently, her ex-girlfriend is absolutely smitten for her friend and said friend completely ignores her at every turn. You laughed until your cheeks hurt that day. Your cheeks don’t hurt from laughing, necessarily, but it’s the same sort of freeing feeling. You don’t know what to make of that, but you’re damn sure you like the way he’s smiling at you.

“Whatever you say. Thanks for the roof.” You beamed, pointing up at the make-shift shelter he’s made for you.

“My pleasure, Miss Grump.” He says this with a posh accent that makes you laugh. You have no idea since when he’s started calling you Miss Grump, but there are worse names, probably.

“Don’t make me kick you.” You threaten, trying (and failing) to suppress the grin that tugs at your lips.

“Sorry, Madame Grump.” He corrects, still holding the cover over your head.

“I’m not even being grumpy.” You warn him, not even trying to hide the smile that spreads across your face. “Come on, get moving.” You cue him to start the walk back to your dorm.

“Your wish is my command, Miss—”

“Don’t you dare.” You threaten and bump your shoulder into his. The walk back to your dorm is short, it took you far longer to get to the convenience store because of… well… tangential events. Checking your phone, you finally learn the time. It’s fucking two in the morning. Great! You’ll get essentially no sleep, but that’s nothing a little caffeine can’t fix.

“I dare more than you think I do.” He purses his lips.

“Okay, I dare you to admit you moaned when you fell.” You challenge him with a smirk.

He groans, “I pick truth.”

“This isn’t truth or dare, you don’t get to pick. Plus, truth would be ‘did you moan when you fell.’” You can see your dorm from where you stand in front of the red brick building, it’s still brightly lit. Hopefully that means that Jen is still asleep and hasn’t woken up to turn the overhead off.

“You can’t subpoena me so I’m not playing this game.” He shrugs, stopping underneath the overhang above the glass door that marks the entrance to your building and the separation from Taesan. As he steps aside, taking his puffer with him and putting it back on, you’re suddenly and unfortunately aware of his body heat now that it’s gone.

“I’m less nervous.” He says with a smile that seems almost confidential, like a secret only you know. He’s undeniably easy on the eyes with his stupid hat and soaked gloves and hoodie.

“Me too.” The words come out of your mouth softly. Somehow, they’re vulnerable words to say. “Goodnight, Taesan.” After your parting words, neither of you make a move to leave. His full name feels more meaningful than his nickname, somehow. You stand there, lit up by the LEDs of the hallways, staring at each other, and you’re not entirely sure why. The tension might be thick, it might not be, you can’t tell by the way you’re focused on his face. Well, it’s not exactly his face. It’s the way his hair frames his face, yes, and the way that his eyes scrunch when he smiles, even slightly, it’s also the way his egg hat looks and the way his hoodie is so damp because he was trying to keep you warm and dry.

Then it’s all over. When the tension breaks, it’s not like it’s cut through. It’s more like it dissipates. It dissipates thanks to the man who barrels down the street adjacent to your bubble, blasting a Spanish ballad and singing his heart out. Soy capitán, soy capitán, soy capitán! blasts through the complex. You break eye contact with Taesan just to laugh at the oddity passing you. You watch him coast down the street on his green bike, singing, without a helmet, hands-free. Your mother would not approve. Taesan’s not laughing, but he’s beaming and staring at you as you crouch down because of your laughter. You try and convince yourself it’s not even that funny, but something about the era of the night just makes you heave with how hard you’re laughing.

“I mean,” recovering, you let out a sigh, finally releasing a breath that you don’t remember holding, “it is a college campus.”

“You can say that again.” His hands are on his hips, and he’s managed to pry his eyes away from you. The sleet’s stopped somewhat, but the ground is still icy from the snow and sleet and rain that have frozen and refrozen over the past few days. The same wistful silence settles between you two after the interruption.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” You laugh in disbelief. Now you’re sure you’ve laughed more than when Jen told you about her friend’s drama. Way more.

“A sign for what?” He questions, jocose and almost suspicious of your deduction.

“A sign you’ve violated like a million rules of common decency!” Another voice, one other than the singing man’s melody and Taesan’s and your chatter, is heard echoing throughout. “Han Taesan, I’m going to beat your ass!” The voice threatens angrily. At first, you don’t know where it’s coming from. At second, you don’t want to believe where it’s coming from. You slowly look up to your open dorm window and see Jen’s disheveled figure poking out with the single most serious scowl you’ve ever seen her wear. The only time that gets close to this nouveau expression is the time she decked a guy for… being a total freak for one of her friends, let’s say. Your body is confused on whether to panic, run, or just freeze. Waiting to act is still an action, and it’s the prognosis your body suggests. You freeze, looking from Taesan to the window, where Jen is notably absent.

You look at Taesan.

You look at the window.

You look at Taesan.

You look at the hallway.

Taesan looks terrified, you look utterly and visibly confused, and for Jen… well, it looks like there's smoke coming out of her ears as she storms down the hallway towards the doors that open to reveal your two-person symposium. Jen slams open the door and, if it wasn’t specifically made not to slam, the impact of the slam would have reverberated until even Dr. Woo heard it across the campus in his (probably sound-proofed) office where he probably still is because, you know, he’s Dr. Woo.

“You motherfucker, what did you do to get her to go out without telling me! What are you hiding? Are you a criminal? Are you a smoker? Oh no, you’re just a piece of shit trying to get in her pants!” Jen steps in front of you, blocking everything but Taesan’s head from your view. From what you can see, Taesan hasn’t been sucker punched yet. His eyes are wide and he’s holding his hands up like he’s waiting for her to swing, and maybe he is. You know he doesn’t know her well enough to know that she wants to beat the shit out of him, but she did say explicitly that she was going to beat the shit out of him so he had some reason to suspect that that’s what was incoming.

“W-what? I don’t— I didn’t do any of that stuff!” He’s shaking his hands wildly and Jen still looks like she’s about to swing by the way she’s pushing a finger into his chest. Still too shocked to do, well, anything except watch.

You see her rear up in a way that’s all too familiar to you, and when you remember you can move, “Jen, wait! It’s–” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you see her closed fist collide with his cheekbone and the impact make him reel back, clutching the affected area with a mittened hand. He almost knocks his head into the pole supporting the overhang, and you can see he’s visibly out of it. Is this a good time to mention that Jen is freakishly good at karate? What Jen is, however, not amazing at is analyzing the situation. As she battles with the follow-through of the swing, she loses her footing on the icy ground, falling flat on her ass. Now, both parties accompanying you are on the icy ground and you’re the only one still standing.

You act in a delay. “Jen! He didn’t do anything, I swear!” You reach for her shoulders that are no longer there, trying to stop an action that’s already happened. You watch as Taesan crumples further into a fetal position and you stand there in shock.

“See!” She spits, snapping her head back to look up at you. “He’s not even trying to help me up!” Her eyebrows are furrowed and angry.

“Jen,” you almost can’t help but laugh, “you decked him, he doesn’t even know what planet he’s on.” You look from your best friend to your… Taesan, and wonder how you attend to both of their bullshit situations at once. “Okay, first of all, Jen, please don’t punch his ass again—”

“Yeah, I’ll punch him in the gut.” She snarls, cutting you off.

“No! There will be no punching.” You declare, trying to sound confident but you’re so bewildered it comes out more as a question. You turn your attention to Taesan, whose nose is bleeding ever so slightly. He’s holding his hat-clad head in his hands and is grimacing in pain. You mirror him, a grimace appearing on your own face as you look upon his pitiful condition. This is going to be so fun to explain. “I came out here because I told him he could call me if he was nervous for the presentation tomorrow and I’d talk to him about it and so we went to the convenience store and… I’m fine! He’s not just trying to get in my pants, he would’ve done that already if he wanted to.” You ramble, using logic that probably wouldn’t withstand in court but works well enough when you talk a million miles an hour to a less than law-savvy subject, that subject being Jen. The subject, Jen, looks scandalized by this information.

“Where did my innocent baby go?” She pouts, getting up to put her arms around you. “Where did my sweet, lightweight, baby with no love life go? She’s sneaking out to see boys?”

“Jen, I’m a grown woman.” You tell her, incredibly blasé and stiff as she embraces you in a hug. From over her shoulder, you catch Taesan’s eye. When your eyes meet, he laughs and then winces. It probably wasn’t a good idea to welcome an uncontrollable movement when you have some sort of abrasion on your cheek and blood coming out of your nose. Jen pulls back to look at you and shakes her head, you can almost hear her saying they grow up so fast. Maybe this is the same kind of telepathy that goes down between her and her sisters. Maybe you get it. Jen, coming back to earth from her sappy, self-appointed caretaker meltdown, narrows her eyes and looks from you to Taesan, and then from you to Taesan, again.

She opens her mouth and lets out a puff of air as if to start speaking, but she only does so a few seconds later. “So… there was no reason for me to deck him?” She asks, raising an eyebrow in genuine confusion. You nod, solemnly. Her jaw drops and her eyebrows push together. She puts her tongue in her cheek, mind reeling. This is when she realizes she gave this poor man a bloody nose and probably a black eye for no damn reason. Suddenly, she fixes her gaze on you, “you’re the one I should be chewing out! Do you know how many staples of girl code you’ve violated?! You could have died!” She exclaims, clearly ready to give you a talking-to, way worse than when you spelled ‘Elliann’ as ‘Ellyanne.’ She’s like OSHA but for general female wellbeing.

You reach out to grab her hands that are moving dramatically to illustrate her point, “okay, you can chew me out after Taesan isn’t bleeding out.” She seems to relax like a combative patient injected with midazolam.

“I’m not bleeding out.” He huffs, but is still holding his nose bridge, so he’s still bleeding, at least, and that’s not exactly ideal.

“You look like shit, though.” You tell him

“Thanks,” he groans, “can I get some tylenol, or something?” Yeah, he totally looks like a hurt puppy. It’s kind of cute, you guess.

“Yeah, we’ll get you patched up.” You assure him, breaking away from Jen to attend to Taesan.

“No ‘we.’ Only you. Don’t let her punch me again.”

“We’re over the combat phase, it’s fine. Get up, do your legs still work?” You try to say your biting words as comfortingly as possible. It’s past two in the morning, you’re too over-tired to try to pick your words so they’ll feel better for the receiver. What’ll make Taesan feel better, physically, at least, is tylenol and making sure his nose isn’t broken.

“My legs don’t, my ass hurts like hell.” Jen complains, but helps in picking Taesan up anyway.

“It’s very hard to break a tailbone, a nose, on the other hand…” You raise your eyebrows but say no more. Taesan gets up just fine, but still clutches his nose. “Campus clinic’s probably closed, we have a first-aid kit, though.”

Jen issues a half-hearted-sounding yet fully meant apology in the form of a mutter of “sorry for punching you, man.”

“You’re cool, man. Cool that you were looking out for her.” He gives her a small thumbs up. It’s a weird moment of friendship between these two. For having met barely a week ago and having spent five hours together tops, these two have a more tumultuous relationship than most twin siblings at the age of nine, which is saying something considering most have chased each other with a knife by the age of five and a half. Jen has gone from asking to be the maid of honor to decking the presumed groom and now having a hopefully more stable relationship with said groom. So much plot it’s not even ‘for the plot’ anymore, you’re just riding the wave of unexpected inciting events.

“The more the merrier.” You mutter as you sling Taesan’s arm over your shoulder. Why he abets this when the damage is to his face, who knows. The more the merrier indeed in your cramped dorm, trying to ignore how the cold compress on his bruise keeps melting even though it’s so cold and the fact that you have an injured and sleep-deprived boy on your hands.

GOT GOOD

You bite the inside of your cheek, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to express your dismay. You kind of bombed your presentation.

Scrap that, you really bombed your presentation.

As you step out of the lecture hall following the sea of your peers, you step aside to press your back into a free wall. It’s one of the moments where you need to just detach. Crossing your arms for stability, you melt into the wall. The overhead light that you can see even through your closed eyelids is obscured every so often by a moving body. This drowsiness is familiar.

Amid the frequent passings of students, the light is masked for longer than would be caused by someone in passing. You know who it is.

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad.” You open your eyes to a squint and see Taesan leaning against the wall next to you. Despite how you try to ignore it, you’re immediately drawn to the squashed berry purple color that blossoms on the inflamed skin under his left eye, giving way to a lighter almost green tint near his nose. Jen got him good. Your blinks are slow, the scant hours of sleep are getting to you. You slept through your alarm, foreboding you from even getting coffee before the presentation. Despite his injury, he’s smiling.

“I lost where I was like every other sentence.” You attempt to mirror his smile, but it doesn’t really work, leaving you with a smile that reaches your eyes but not your lips, somehow.

“It’s Dr. Woo, you’ll be fine. He doesn’t care nearly as much as you do. We got all of our information out. It doesn’t matter how graceful it was.” He lays out his reasons and you cock your head, weighing the possibility that he’s right.

“Are you like a vampire, or something? You don’t need sleep?”

“I’m used to it.” He shrugs. Maybe living with five as many people as you do makes you sleep way less; especially since it seems like Taesan is their chaperone despite the fact that Sungho and Riwoo are older than him, you’ve learned.

“You shouldn’t be. Sleep is good.” You close your eyes again, and a silence settles over you. You’ve created your own little bubble in the hallway, and it might not even include Taesan. Right now, it’s just you and your desperate need for rest. You are not the kind of person to pull an all-nighter.

“I told you you were going to crash.” He reminds you and you hum in response. “Look,” he gets your attention by putting a hand on your shoulder, “the boys are out, come back to my place and you can take a nap. I know that your room still smells like disinfectant.” A smile creeps across your face at this. It’s true: your room smells like the pungent iodine that you used to clean the minor abrasions on his cheekbone. You still have no idea why Jen has that much power in her.

“Lead the way.”

“It’s way closer to this building than it is to your building, it’s barely any walk at all.” He assures you. Regardless, you have to speed walk to keep up with the pace.

“Do you have hot chocolate, or anything?” At your drawled request, he tsks. Pressing his lips together, you take that as a no.

“I’ll see what I can do. Woonhak owes me like nine favors.” He laughs a little at this, and you smile too. Unremarkably, it hasn’t become spring overnight, and so the wind is still nipping at your face. You were wise enough to wear your Taesan-provided gloves, though. Looking at Taesan’s face and the way the wind makes his face a little pink, you’re pretty sure you could find the whole color palette on his face. Except blue, maybe. You’ve got the other colors covered. Red for his cheeks, orange, yellow, green, and purple for his bruise. Huh, that bruise contributes a lot. “It’s just this way.” He says, guiding you with a pointed hand towards a complex highly similar to your own. Same red brick buildings and same overhang. The difference is that, you know from picking your roommate, this building is the apartment sector. Frankly, it’s incredible that Taesan and his roommates are all friends. You know other people who got apartments, or even quads, who aren’t so happy.

As you step into the entrance way, you feel the warm air hit your face. This building is much warmer than yours, maybe that’s a good thing. Walking up the stairs, Taesan is steady behind you. You wonder if he’s thinking about catching you like he had to the time you were drunk off your ass.

As soon as you enter the apartment dorm, your focus tunnel visions on the soft couch in the middle of the room. It looks like heaven as you step towards it. You were unfairly ripped from the comfort of your bed for that fuckass presentation and now you can return to your natural state, sleeping. You thank whatever power is out there because this is so incredibly opportune.

As soon as you shed your backpack and winter coat and collapse on the couch, you’re out like a light. No words from Taesan can wake you now, even if it is him professing his undying love for you. No, it’s up to your internal clock to make you up, lest you sleep forever.

Your internal clock does wake you up. You’re groggy, but it’s still light out, so you couldn’t have slept for so long. As you assess your situation, you notice two differences.

First, you’re warm.

A navy blue throw blanket has been carefully draped over you, and you’re pretty sure you didn’t do that yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek—happily, this time. It’s proof he does care, and maybe you’re letting the gesture get to your head. You do… not like Han Taesan, right?

Second, you’re alone in Taesan’s living room.

There are no signs of life, not from his roommates nor from the mountain himself. That’s more puzzling. You would have assumed he would have stayed for one reason or another, maybe he went out to get hot chocolate? He told you that he would have Woonhak do it.

Looking around the room, you take in the sights. There’s a modest TV with various video game consoles, there is a section of the room clearly designated for guitars, and it’s remarkably clean. Not too bad for five early 20-somethings and one 18 year old. It’s kind of impressive, actually. There isn’t any leftover food out and even the dishes in the sink have been rinsed, if not thoroughly washed. You pat down the area around you in search of your phone, mainly to check the time, but also to figure out where the hell Taesan went. Something about his absence hurts your heart in an uncomfortable way. You would have liked to see him when you woke up. Still… you do not like Han Taesan… do you? No, no. You don’t like him, that’s silly. He’s just your partner for a group project.

As you locate your phone, you hear the door open behind you and you swing your head around to see Taesan standing in the doorway with a hand behind his back and a bag in the hand that’s visible to you. Another bag, nice.

“Good morning.” He smiles at your state. The way he looks at you suggests your hair is out of order. You fail obviously as you try to subtly sort it out.

“I had a great nap. You have a good napping couch.” You bring a hand up to rub your right eye even though your mom says it causes astigmatism. It would suck to have contacts in right about now.

“Well,” he says, setting down the bag on the counter, “I have your hot chocolate.” You’re pretty sure your face lights up at this, it’s the perfect thing for this kind of dingy day. “And,” he continues, “I got it from a café near here; store-bought isn’t as good.” He takes a cardboard carrier out of the bag and presents his finds to you, two lidded cups.

“You sure know the way to my heart.” You mean that on a deeper level that you hope he doesn’t catch. “What’s behind your back?” You ask, pointing to the obvious hand still tucked behind him.

He looks sheepish and brings the hand to his front, “I got these for you.” His cool act is far gone, he seems almost timid. In his left hand he grasps a bouquet of an assortment of colorful flowers. There are assorted yellows, blues, pinks, purples, and reds. It’s like a sunset wrapped in brown paper and tied in a pretty twine bow.

“Taesan!” You exclaim excitedly, jumping up from the couch to go collect your gift. “Why?” You poke. He’s quiet for a second, the question seems to echo throughout the room. A chorus of ‘why.’ You meet his eyes for just a second, but the shared glance makes your heart beat faster. He seems to bite his tongue, there’s a shining reflection of the kitchen light in his dark brown eyes. You don’t see them crinkle up, indicative of a straight face.

He swallows like his throat is thick, “I got them for you because I like you… I like you romantically.”

You’re not sure if your heart swells or drops.

From this one statement, you learn two things. You learn that Han Taesan likes you, and you learn that you like Han Taesan. You really like Han Taesan. You like the way he’s cold but kind and the way his bangs fall and his endless care for his roommates and his hardworking nature.

You like Han Taesan.

You take the bouquet in your hands, analyzing the flowers. You notice they’re mostly tulips, but flanked by carnations, baby’s breath, and bluebells. A smile grows on your face as you look back up at him. He looks absolutely terrified. It’s not worth it to tease him here. He’s vulnerable, you should be too.

You begin to open your mouth, but before you can, he continues in an attempt at defense, “listen to me, please. I thought you were cute and smart even before the party and all of those incidents, but now that I know you I can’t not tell you. You’re witty and stubborn and playful and it’s so easy to talk to you. You were cute when you were drooling, I didn’t know that was possible. You make fun of me but I like it because you’re so kind. I… I like you.” He confesses, he’s talking fast and you think your heart might burst with excitement. Excitement isn’t the right word—euphoria? Joy? Happiness? Exhilaration? No word is quite right for how you feel about Taesan. “The tulips symbolize love.” He says under his breath and the flowers take on a whole new meaning. You feel like a tulip. Tulips symbolize love.

The smile that bursts across your face makes his eyebrows release all their tension immediately, “Taesan, I like you too. I really like you,” you tell him, “tulips symbolize love.” You look down at the bouquet and see the array of tulips that smile back at you.

“Can I kiss you? I’m not drunk, I swear.” He promises. The allusion to your first meeting makes you laugh. You met with an ask for a kiss, and now he confesses with an ask for a kiss.

“Yes.” You whisper, and he throws his arms around you, pressing his forehead to yours. You sway like that for a moment, you feel the cold of his jacket against your arms and the pressure of his hand on the small of your back. You look at him and in his eyes you see him. No walls, just you two. Just you and Taesan.

You wrap your arms around his neck, one hand still holding the bouquet and pull his lips to yours. Warmth blossoms in your chest—his kiss is soft and tender and he tastes like mint. Mint might be your new favorite flavor. His lips fit perfectly with yours. You feel the soft press of his fingers into your back, pulling you closer to him. Your lips part slightly and you’re out of breath before he even starts to pull away. His kiss is just like him, just when you think you know him all, he shows you a new surprise, something new. After stalling for just a second, he pulls you back to him and deepens the kiss. You could kiss this minty boy forever.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours again, fluttering his eyes open and shut.

“I wrote a song about this. A serenade.” He says breathlessly.

Even in the dead of winter, you think your heart melts all over again.

NOTES: Shoutout Hartford Whalers even tho they sports disbanded! SINGING MAN CAMEO! The singing man is a genuine character in my life. Living in the city center of a major city means I get LOTS of people doing weird shit like the emoji guy (who wears outfits only with bright fucking emojis, my friends have seen him too, he’s wacky), the tree guy (a man who always walks around with a fallen branch on his head, no idea why), and the supercar medical worker (woman in scrubs who drives down the streets with a loud ass car that looks like one of those fuckass shoes with big holes in them you know what im talking about the kidney shoes). I take a pic and keep them in a folder on my phone called “recurring characters.” I have never seen the singing man. He walks past my house every weekday at 11pm and I like to have my windows open and he sings loud Spanish ballads. I love him. Singing man my beloved. Sorry this is a slowburn, it was forced out of me i fear. is this a slowburn? methinks so.

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anonymusbosch · 2 months ago

Text

on wanting to do a million things

prompted by @bloodshack 's

i wanna learn SQL but i wanna learn haskell but i wanna learn statistics but i wanna start a degree in macroeconomics also sociology also library science but i wanna learn norwegian but i wanna learn mandarin but i wanna paint but i wanna do pottery but i wanna get better at woodworking but i wanna get better at cooking but i wanna bake one of those cakes that's just 11 crepes stacked on top of each other but i wanna watch more movies but i wanna listen to more podcast episodes but i need to rest but i need to exercise but i wanna play with my dog but i wanna go shopping but i need to go grocery shopping but i need to do the dishes but i need to do laundry but i need to buy a new x y and z but i need to save money but i wanna give all my money away to people who need it more but i wanna pivot my career to book editing but to do that i have to read more and i wanna read more nonfiction but i wanna read more novels but i wanna get better at meditating but i wanna volunteer but i wanna plan a party but i wanna go to law school. but what im gonna do is watch a dumbass youtube video and go to bed

I think I've been doing slightly better this year about Actually Doing Things. not great! but I do a lot and I've been "prototyping" ways to get closer to doing as much as is possible. and if I actually talk about it it's a bunch of very obvious statements but I'll try to make them a little more concrete

rule number one: experiment on yourself

there's no one approach that's right for everyone and there's not even one approach for me that works at all times. try things out. see what works. pay attention to what doesn't. try something else.

rule number two: ask what's stopping you and then take it seriously

example: I often want to do Everything in the evening at like 2 PM, but then get home and am tempted sorely by the couch, and then get stuck inertia'd and not doing much but being tired and kind of bored. why?

if I don't have plans, it's easy to leave work later than planned and hard to make myself do something by a specific time

i'm generally tiredish after work. 4 out of 5 times, that'll go away if I actually start Doing Something, but 1 out of 5 it's real and I will go hardcore sleepmode at 8 PM and just be Done

i use up a ton of my program management/executive function/Deciding Things brain at work and usually find it noticeably harder to string together "want to do Thing > make list of Things > decide on a Thing > do Thing" after I'm home. Even if I have a list of Things to Do, how does one decide! how does one start! and god forbid there's a Necessary thing. then it's all downhill

therefore, mitigations: have concrete time-specific plans in advance.

if I have an art class at 6:00 PM I need to leave work by 5:15 and NO LATER and I can't get sucked into "oh 10 more minutes to finish this" *one hour later*

that also means I have to have a fridge or freezer dinner ready and can't spend 45 minutes cooking "fuck it, what the hell did I put in the fridge, why don't we have soy sauce" evil meal that is not good

plans with friends: dinner! art night! music night! repair-your-clothes night! seeing a show! occasionally, Accountability Time where a friend comes over for We Are Doing Tasks with tea and snacks etc.

for some reason I'm way better about Actually Doing Things when the plan exists already. magically I overcome couch inertia even though I am the same amount of tired! and while I never learn the ability to decouch without plans I at least learn to make them

still working on:

a "prototype" for maybe next month is a weeklyish Study Session for a thing I want to learn about. I want to somehow make it employer-proof (I am accountable to some entity to being at place X at time Y) and haven't figured out a good way. Maybe I can leverage that the local library is open til 8 on wednesdays and somehow make it a Thing? maybe I'll try it!

oh god oh fuck the thing about plans is that if you want to have them you need to make them. christ. a lot of the time I can cover this with some combo of weekend planning + recurring events (things like weekly friend dinner/weekly class) + having cool friends who reach out proactively but it still requires active planning and it can fall thru the cracks

rule three: cool friends

they can take you to things

they can remind you that you can do whatever the fuck you please

i have a friend who is somehow Always doing cool classes and learning shit. and this reminds me that I can ... do that. and sometimes I do

you can take them to things!!

rule four: try to kill the anon hate in your head

obv this depends on your circumstance but sometimes it's worth it to me to look at constraints that "feel real" and check whether they're an active choice I made thoughtfully or, like, the specters of people I don't know judging my choices

time and money are obvious ones. recently was gently nudged towards looking at whether i could give myself more time to Do Things by cooking less. imaginary specters of judgmental twitterites: "it's illegal to spend money. if you get takeout you're the first up against the wall when the revoution comes. make all your lunches and dinners and hoard the money for Later. for Something. how dare you get lunch at the store. you bourgeois hoe. taking charity donations from the mouths of the poor cause you don't have your life together enough to cook artisanal bespoke dinners every night. fuck you." and obviously eating takeout 24/7 is not the answer, but realizing I was not making an active choice helped me try making the active choice instead. "how much do I actually want to balance cost, time, tastiness, and wastefulness of my food, given my amount of free time and my salary and the tradeoff against doing something else? can I approach it differently to do more quick cheap food + some takeout?" -> current prototype: substitute in 1 takeout dinner or restaurant-with-friends a week, 1 frozen type dinner, and then batch cook or sandwiches lunches w/ "permission" to get fast lunch at the store. we'll see how it goes!

i am really really bad at this and find it helpful to talk to other people who can help point out when I'm being haunted by ghosts about it.

rule five: what would it take? what's the next step?

this one i give a lot of credit to @adiantum-sporophyte in particular for, especially for prompting me with questions when I muse about the million-ideal-lives on car rides. what would it look like to do xyz? what's something I could do right now to move in that direction? what's the obstacle? like, actually ask the question and think through it. with a person talking to you! damn! maybe the obstacle to x is that I don't know if I'll like it or if I just like the idea of it. and I don't want to commit to x without knowing. Okay, so maybe an approach would be to find someone who does x and talk to them about how their life is, or maybe it's "spend 15 minutes looking up intro-to-x near me", or "actively schedule 1 instance of x", or something like that. Or maybe it's that I don't know what it takes to do x. Okay, how about on Tues after dinner Adiantum fixes a sweater at my apartment while I spend 20 min looking at prereqs for x. like, it's so basic to say "to do a thing, you could try figuring out how to do it" but I think the important thing here is the feedback/prompting to even recognize "hey, step back, if you don't know the next step then figuring out the next step is the next step"

rule six: habits

prototyping: exercise

I do a lot better when I exercise in the mornings. I do a lot better when I do PT exercises regularly. For a while I was doing PT with friend in the morning every morning before work (accountability! a friendly face to make it more pleasant!) but that didn't really solve - it's not the kind of exercise that makes me feel awake/active, it's like dumb little foot botherings. but: having the habit of morning exercise made it easier to swap out 2 of the 5 days for more intense exercise, and then to swap those 2 for a different more intense exercise when I needed a break. it's easier to build a low-effort version of the habit and then work in the higher-effort one than to just Decide to be the kind of person who gets up at ass o clock to do cardio or whatever

rule seven: set up the structure of your life to make it easy

this is also a "duh" thing but like. on so many levels it comes down to structure your life to make the choice more doable. this can be something like "i structure my life to make vegetarian cooking baseline and vegan cooking the majority by stocking the pantry with staples and spices from cuisines that work well that way" or "i chose an apartment that lets me commute by bike" or "i have my camping gear put away in a fashion that makes it easier to gather frequently and lowers the barrier to trips" or "i keep physical books around to prompt myself to read xyz" to "i don't use instagram or twitter or snapchat or facebook" to . idk.

and in terms of charitable giving: similar deal. I have an explicit budget at the beginning of the year (~10% of my before-tax income), I know in advance what charities I give to, and I know what timing I will use (basically, alerts for donation matching around specific fundraising times). Anything outside the Plan comes from my discretionary budget/fun money. That makes it less of a mental load (the choice is already made; I don't grapple with every donation request or every bleeding-heart trap because I have a very solid anchor on "I give to xyz, the money's set aside") and it's armor against impulsive-but-not-useful scrupulosity. I structure the rest of my spending/life to prioritize a set amount and it makes it easier to follow through

rule eight: if you can do it at work a tiny bit that counts for real life

(infrequently used)

"hi mr. manager I think it would be great if I could use enough SQL to make basic queries in the database so we don't have to go through the software team for common/basic questions. I'd like to take 1 hr on Friday to go through some basic tutorials and then 1 hr with Pat on Monday so he can walk me through an intro for our specific use case. I estimate this will help save the team a couple hours a week of waiting for answers from the other team." and then you have enough of a handle with baby's first SQL that you can add little bits and bobs as you exercise it. this is responsible for a medium amount of my knowledge of python and all 3 brain cells worth of SQL.

rule nine: life is an optimization problem

not in, like, "you need to optimize your skincare and career and exercise and social life and have everything all at once" that's not what optimization means. optimization is like, maximize something with respect to a set of constraints. i explicitly Do Not do skincare beyond "wash face" and "sunscreen" bc I want to optimize my life for like looking at weird plants in the mountains. explicitly choosing to put time and money elsewhere! can't have it all all at once. so fuck them pores. who give a shit. yeah i ate a lot of protein shakes instead of home cooked breakfasts this week bc i was prioritizing morning exercise. im looking at this beautiful bug and it doesn't know what fashion is or what my resume looks like. im holding a lizard. im not spending time on picking cool clothes or whatever bc i spent that time looking up lizard hotspots on purpose.

that's really long and probably mostly, like, not surprising? but i keep benefiting from ppl being like "hey have you considered Obvious Thing" framed very gently

#long post

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cosmerelists · 6 months ago

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Cosmere Characters as Teachers

As requested by @little-cute-pink-horrible-being :)

If Cosmere characters were teachers, what would they teach & what would it be like?

1. Jasnah: History teacher

Let's just say that she has, uh, high expectations of her students.

Jasnah: Anyone can memorize facts and dates. Jasnah: You all will do that, of course, but you will also learn to draw conclusions from those facts, track historical trends, and maybe, if you work hard, you can come up with a theory of your very own. Bravest student: Uh, miss? We are seven. Jasnah: I do not tolerate excuses.

2. Hammond: Philosophy Professor

He has a hardcore group of students who are huge fans of his.

Student 1: Hey, you're in Professor Hammond's class? Student 2: Yeah. Student 1: Isn't he the guy who wrote that book So What if the Poor are Genetically Destined to be Poor? Revolution is Still the Answer? Student 2: That's him. Student 1: And that's why your an anarchist now, huh? Student 2: Listen, he's pretty persuasive.

3. Elend: Political Science Professor

Elend, a Political Science professor at a university, is the sort of teacher who assigns a LOT of reading.

Elend: Remember: politics is for people. Even when the people you serve suck. A lot. Student: You...sound like you're talking from experience? Elend: You have no idea.

4. Shallan: Art Professor

She mainly teaches drawing and painting classes.

Shallan: You all need to decide what your art means to you. Shallan: Whether it be capturing a moment or representing a person's essence or seeing into realms not normally discernable to human eyes--as long as it's art from your soul, it will be right. Student: What, uh, was that last part? Shallan: Art should be from your soul? Student: N-No, the part before that? Shallan: Anyway, everyone start drawing!

5. Painter: Also an Art Professor

I mean, it's literally his name.

Painter: The key to art is repetition. Painter: When a Nightmare is staring down at you, you don't want to be hesitating over what to draw! Student: Professor Nikaro, please, we've been drawing bamboo for a week! Painter: ...I'm not sure what the issue is?

6. Sigzil: Science teacher

Sigzil is one of those general science teachers you get in middle school.

Sigzil: Remember: the key to science is...? Students, as a chorus: Writing things down! Sigzil: That's right! Sigzil: Now let's see what's the heaviest thing we can stick to the wall using glue--last year we managed to stick me to the wall for a couple seconds! Students: [cheering] Sigzil: ...I'm better at this than I would have expected.

7. Wayne: Theater Teacher

Wayne teaches theatre at a high school.

Wayne: Acting is all about not acting. Wayne: You gotta just be the person. Wayne: Understand their past, embody their present... Student: ...wear their hat? Wayne: Exactly!

8. Kaladin: Also a Theatre Teacher

Look me in the eyes and tell me that Kaladin doesn't understand drama.

Kaladin: [talking to an school administrator off to the side while the class watches] And you can tell the school board that the next time they want to cut funding to the arts, I will be there. Kaladin: I will be there at every meeting where even a word of funding reduction is breathed. Kaladin: I will haunt those meetings, carrying pictures of my kids doing their plays and being happy. Kaladin: And I will make them look me in the eyes if they dare to vote to take that away! New student, hesitantly: Performance art? Student: Nah, he always talks that way.

9. Sarene: English teacher

If only because I don't think they have dedicated fencing professors at most places.

Sarene: English is not simply about reading books--it is about learning to think and interpret information. Sarene: You can take the skills you learn in this class and apply them very widely: to understand the news, to read between the lines of what a person says to you, to craft effective rhetoric to get your own way. Sarene: Read everything. Sarene: Remember: you cannot defeat an enemy unless you understand your enemy. Student: ...enemy? Sarene: Don't worry: you'll have enemies when you're older. Student: Yay?

10. Navani: Engineering

Navani would be an engineering professor at a college.

Navani: Your job, students, is to get this ball through that window high up on the wall. You can do it any way you want. Student: I'm immediately seeing: trebuchet. Navani [nodding sagely]: Go with your heart.

11. Pattern: Math teacher

...Listen, I'm not saying he's a good math teacher.

Student: [staring gloomily at their test] Friend: That bad, huh? Student: Mr. Pattern wrote "Mmmm delicious lies" all over it! Friend: So...you failed? Student: Yeah...

12. Raboniel: Chemistry Teacher

She may seem strict, but she actually quite likes kids.

Raboniel: ...And that, students, is how you build a very effective chemical bomb. Students: ... Raboniel: Any questions? Bravest student: Uh, miss? We are seven. Raboniel: So...basically adults, right? Wait, how fast do humans age again? Teacher's aide: [whispering frantically] Raboniel: ...I may have made an error.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Jasnah #Hammon #Elend #Navani #Raboniel #Shallan #Wayne #Sarene #Sigzil #Kaladin #Painter

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inspired-lesson-plans · 3 months ago

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This is a very long post. If you do not have the time, then please at least do the quick activity up top. The lesson plan that took me 4 days to write will follow the ⁜ symbol.

HW Due Mon:

Open https://mysolartime.com/ in a new tab and allow the website to track your location.

Open https://www.utctime.net/ in a new tab.

Reblog this post the current UTC time and your local time, using the following format:

21:00 UTC, 4:00 local

4. Vote in the following poll.

⁜

Social Studies, Grade 5, Geography 6.1.5.GeoSV.3: Demonstrate how to use digital geographic tools, maps and globes to measure distances and determine time zones, and locations using latitude and longitude.

Do Now:

Provide students with a paper copy of a population density world map and 2 minutes to fulfill the following instruction:

Draw lines on the map in order to separate the world into 24 time zones. Try not to separate dense population centers into different time zones.

⁎

Class Discussion:

Use the projector to share and discuss the maps of any students who are willing to share. Have fun with this, there are bound to be some good ideas and bad ideas because 5th grade is like that.

Then, project the official world time zone map, and discuss the good ideas and bad ideas present here.

Exemplary discussion points:

The 0-point of the timezone map is the Prime Meridian, which cuts right through England. Why do you think it's in England?

How come some countries like the US and Brazil are cut into multiple time zones, but China isn't?

Why do you think the lines are pretty straight in Europe, Africa, and North and South America, but so confused in Asia and the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans?

⁑

Direct Instruction:

Long ago, nobody really cared about the exact time. All you really needed was sunrise, sunset, and noon, and you could figure those out with your eyes. If you wanted to be fancy, you could put a stick in the ground and trace its shadow over the course of the day to measure out hours.

Perhaps the first recorded complaint of time-keeping technology comes from Rome in 250BCE.

The gods confound the man who first found out how to distinguish hours! Confound him too Who in this place set up a sundial To cut and hack my days so wretchedly Into small portions! When I was a boy, My belly was my sundial: one more sure, Truer, and more exact than any of them. This dial told me when it was time To go to dinner, when I had anything to eat; But nowadays, why even when I have, I can't fall-to unless the sun gives leave. The town's so full of these confounded dials, The greatest part of its inhabitants, Shrunk up with hunger, creep along the streets. [x]

In other words, "Kids these days are always looking at their sundials. Back in my day, there were only three times, Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. All we needed to tell the time was our stomach!"

Please note this was a satire, so if it sounds funny, you are correct.

But for 18th century British sailors, accurate timekeeping was no laughing matter. These sailors used fancy math (called trigonometry) to calculate their latitude. So long as they knew the angle between the sun and the horizon, and the time when that angle was measured.

Ship's captains would keep logbooks of these measurements. That way, another ship's captain would be able to reference the logbook in order to replicate the journey, much like replicating a science experiment.

Now... think about this... how can you do that unless the next captain is using the same time as you. We take this for granted today, but how can you be sure that two clocks are synchronized?

Scientists in the town of Greenwich, England (pronounced gren`-ich) recorded the solar noon every day of the year and calculated the Greenwich Mean Time. By keeping an accurate and exact time in one exact place, GMT eventually the Coordinated Universal Time (UTC) for everyone in the world. That's why in the time zone map, the 0 runs through one specific part of England.

This is important. For the first time in human history, the clocks in different places were synchronized. Solar noon happens at a different time in London than it does in Greenwich, but if they both use GMT (otherwise known as UTC), then they can coordinate their schedules. This was very important for railroads, where exact, coordinated schedules are very important.

Soon, the entire country of England existed within a single time zone.

When the United States built railroads that spanned vast lateral (East-West) distances, they needed to create different time zones for cities that were far apart from each other, such as New York and Chicago. Thus, the US became the first country with multiple time zones.

As the rest of the world industrialized, they needed to pick their time zones. You can see this on the map. Each time zone is, at least in theory, as wide as 1/24 the circumference of the Earth. It's like the space between the numbers on a clock! Most countries are smaller than this, so they can comfortably fit within a single timezone. Others, like Brazil and Australia, divided their landmasses into two or three time zones.

China did not have widespread industrialization until post-WWII dictatorial communist rule. This was a very uncaring and inconsiderate government, to put it mildly. Suffice it to say that for Chinese farmers in the far west, having to get up 2-3 hours earlier every day would have been the least of their worries.

⁂

Modeled Activity:

Show students how to use this Day and Night world map as a way to visualize the day and night cycle across the world.

Additionally, show them how to use https://mysolartime.com/ to find their current time where they live.

Give students a moment to calculate the difference between their Local Time and the official time in their time zone, and what that means.

(I am currently in Philadelphia, which is 11 minutes East of New York City)

Finally, show students how to use https://www.utctime.net/ to find their exact, current UTC.

Have students calculate the difference in minutes and hours between Local Time and Official Time.

00:41 - 19:30 = -5:11 (Philadelphia is 5 hours and 11 minutes East of Greenwich, England)

Explain that every internet connected device in the world uses a service like this one, then adds or subtracts hours to fit the time zone of your current location.

Higher Order Learning:

Students work in small groups to look up the local time in different major cities around the world, recording their data on a worksheet. As they do, they should discuss the following questions:

Are time zones still relevant in our always-online society?

If you can know your Local Time and the UTC any time you look at your phone, then what purpose do time zones still serve?

How would it feel for schools and businesses to use UTC instead?

How would you feel if your school day went from 4:20-10:50 UTC?

Finally, each student must individually write at least 3 sentences responding to the following question:

Would you advocate for or against your school district dropping references to the time in your time zone and instead referring to UTC and Local Time? Why or why not?

#lesson plan #social studies #grade 5 #geography #poll #polls of tumblr #tumblr poll #teachblr #I JUST WANTED TO ASK A QUESTION BUT I KEPT ON RAMBLING IN THE NOTES AND THEN I WAS LIKE “THIS IS A LESSON ISN'T IT”#AND THEN I SPENT THE NEXT 3 DAYS DOING BASICALLY NOTHING WITH MY FREE TIME EXCEPT RESEARCHING AND WRITING THIS LESSON #I HOPE YOU ALL LEARN SOMETHING BECAUSE I DID

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casin0table · 9 months ago

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Happy cyclone day! - Today marks the anniversary of the St Cassians Choir’s tragic death, known best as “Our Six Saints” when spoken of in the newspaper; Having died September 14th, 6:19pm.

Now for just a moment with me, imagine.

Imagine being doomed to never know of tomorrow. Imagine all the things they could’ve been looking forward to that week that they never got to see again, forgotten as they found their final resting place.

Maybe there was a test Noel was looking forward to on Wednesday because for once in English class they were covering a book he was really getting into, for once there would be something he’d enjoy in this town…

Maybe there was a makeshift lab Misha was looking forward to on Friday because they got to go outside and collect pond water, life kind of sucks for him right now but being able to go outside and conduct his own science experiment,, have control over something in his life would be sick. If he didn’t love basically anything he knew he loved science.

Maybe there was a surprise party Ocean and Constance had been planning for Tuesday when they had choir, they were looking forward to baking cupcakes together that night. It was never perfect with them when they did things together but it was their time and they have made all the decorations that weekend. If they won they’d celebrate all class period, smiling and playing music and eating food, for once Ocean had loosened up—just a bit—and decided since it was senior year they deserved a break. Just this once.

Imagine being all of them, actually. So many years of school, so much hard work, Highschool is the worst especially out in bumfuck nowhere. They were so close to freedom, so close to graduating and hopefully being able to run away from here, finally having rights to move or go or do what they wanted for most of them. This was their senior year. Their last year. Their last concert—it was probably true a few of them had decided this was *their* year and they would do great, they’d try their hardest and burn out in the summer knowing they’d made it and it was only downhill from here

Though, they were never destined to be more than this town after all, live and die here like the meager houseflies that lined their window sills, trapped in the homes and stuck until their demise. maybe, in a sense, the fact they died at all was to highlight those things that could have been, to give value and meaning to life where they wouldn’t have otherwise seen it.

And maybe, for that, it was better this way; At the height of their pursuits, standing just at the edge not knowing how they’d live or die, whether it all would have been worth it in the end. They wouldn’t be burdened if it was to fail, you know? Maybe it was better they never knew, because why live again if not happily, why live again when you stand amongst faces that know you, love you, why live again when your death was, inevitable.

They died in a freak accident, they died in a catastrophe far outside of this town, a bang and a crash sending shockwaves to anyone outside it… maybe thats just what they needed, maybe thats just what they wanted, to be something more than this smoggy town air, or maybe thats what they needed, to appreciate the stars that gleamed through it.

Idk lol anyways happy cyclone day

#ride the cyclone #rtc #musical #musicals

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vitaminseetarot · 1 year ago

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PAC: Random Messages You May Need 🌈🎆⛅

Sup, y'all. I'm finally back for another pick a card reading. I really apologize if folks have not heard from me over the past month, I meant to get this reading (among other things) out a while ago. I have not been able to touch tarot for the past few weeks. Life has been… topsy turvy, to say the least. Heh heh. [sweating profusely]

I meant to have another game out and to have paid readings available by now--that is still part of the plan. What was meant for June will be in July. So this blog might go from 0 to 100 mph real soon, to move along with plans as intended!

I was loosely inspired by the Baker pride flag from 1978 for this group selection. These piles are pretty nondescript: each one contains a random message that may resonate with you. Pick based on whichever color of the Prism Oracle speaks to you most, and feel free to choose more than one. Take only what resonates.

Pile 1 - Strength (Red) Pile 2 - Happiness (Orange) Pile 3 - Illumination (Yellow) Pile 4 - Movement (Green) Pile 5 - Flow (Turquoise) Pile 6 - Trust (Blue) Pile 7 - Intuition (Violet) Pile 8 - Love (Pink)

Pile 1 - Strength (Red)

10 of Swords, Insight

You've been asked by the universe to put up with a lot, especially recently. You're reaching a finish line of a very long and brutal marathon. There have been too many times where you questioned whether or not to throw in the towel. If you have, you may also have questioned whether or not it was the correct choice. Sometimes, things don't work out, and it's better to move on. It can be difficult to hold everything up when one thing after another seems to fall apart at the seams, but either way you're being reminded of the light at the end of this long and turbulent tunnel.

Collect yourself, pick up what pieces you can. Time has shifted everything, but the essentials still stand. Gather the wisdom you have learned from this ordeal. There is still beauty to be found in the decay, glittering gems in the rough.

Maybe you don't want to get stronger. Healing may feel like a better option than grinding for difficult experience points. Give yourself the rest and repair you need. Let go of only that which is keeping you from starting again, but you don't need to throw the baby out with the bathwater. You've gained so much wisdom and strength, this trial wasn't without gain. Treasure it and begin anew.

Pile 2 - Happiness (Orange)

2 of Swords, Clarity

Whatever answers you seek are coming to you. Or perhaps they've already arrived; open your eyes and see for yourself. You may be wondering which path will satisfy you more. The process of reconciling this could take forever unless you lean on your gut here. This can't be decided based on intellect alone, for you could get stuck mulling it over for days. Imagining all the different possible outcomes could be taxing for your brain, so narrow it down. Eliminate the weakest links and home in on what excites you. It should feel like an "aha, yes!"

If you cannot see the answer right away, go within to the realm of imagination. Feel your way through. Visualize not just with sight but with yearning. Does the light of the sun make you feel hopeful? Does the cool rain make you feel relaxed? Would an art class expand your capacity to imagine many things, or would taking a science class?

The X mark in 2 of Swords is like a railroad crossing sign. Redirect that train of thought into brighter and more positive avenues of expression. Say "what if" as if you can't wait for something to happen. "What if I saw a shooting star tonight? What if my cute neighbor asked me out?" Let the future shine its beacon for you. It will all make sense in due time.

Pile 3 - Illumination (Yellow)

Ace of Cups, Reconciliation

Have you been staying up way too late trying to figure everything out? Please give yourself a brain curfew: no problem solving or saving the day after 10 pm! I'm getting that you may tend to ruminate on the same strong emotions. For some I'm getting that there is a crush here. There's inconsistent text messaging. I know it's easy to get too nervous about their reply, but try to wait until at least the next day to hear back. They may need time to formulate their words right. They may not even see your message straight away. Take it all in stride and sleep on it; if they want to reach out to you, then they eventually will.

For others in this pile, you may be going through a rough patch with another person right now and could be wondering how things will pan out. Give them time to respond, they could still be processing it. Stay on the more positive end of things with the idea that things will work themselves out. I feel like if you can manage this in a relaxed and non hurried way, the knot will untangle easily. The coffee in the Ace of Cups is very hot, so give it a chance to cool.

There is opportunity in your near future to make up for something that went awry due to a miscommunication error. You may get a chance to make up for a test, appointment, or an interview. You will receive grace for any mishaps. Remember that tomorrow won't necessarily be the same as today, so cherish both the good you have now along with the good that soon awaits you.

Pile 4 - Movement (Green)

IX Hermit, Devotion

Looks like things are progressing faster than you even thought they would. You may be blinking your eyes in partial disbelief: could this ball really be rolling? Indeed, thanks to your efforts, goals are being met and results are more evident by the day. You eschewed a lot of distractions to make this work, so give yourself a pat on the back for the level of commitment you put into it. Some of you in this pile may have just graduated, if so then congratulations! But try not to get too comfortable with your laurels, for you have a long road ahead of you in whatever you do next. This one completion is the start of many.

Does that thrill you? If so, wonderful! On the other hand, some of you may be feeling uncertain about continuing. You may be reviewing your options to see if this really is worth pursuing. Something that requires a lot of dedication and focus on it to the exclusion of all else… yeah, I can see how that can get tiring after a long time. There are folks who can get their Master's right after their Bachelor's, or have another child right after the first, but people can also happily move on to what feels more right for them instead.

It's okay to stop and assess your tracks if necessary. Taking time off is not the same as quitting. It's not losing motivation, it's recovering it. This is your passion and your discipline, not anyone else's. If you need to give other parts of your life more room to breathe, then do so with the confidence that your great work will wait for you.

Pile 5 - Flow (Turquoise)

4 of Wands, Hospitality

Have you been stuck with something for a while? There's a strong sense of a blockage that is being eroded away over time. This process can be sped up by allowing the ice to thaw a little more. "Break the ice." You may be wanting to open up and spend more quality time with other people but don't know how. Or you could be faced with meeting new people and being nervous about interacting with them. Even more so if they're roommates. A few people in this pile could be moving or have just moved. This is a chance to ease up and get to know new people.

This blockage could be a result of the past and of anxiety. The sound of a turning doorknob just jumpscared me as I typed the last sentence. You may benefit from learning about social anxiety and how to manage it. It's not an overnight job for you to fix this, though, but to just be aware of it and not allow it to get in the way of positive change in your life.

If you're struggling to figure out how to deal with meeting new people, I would suggest looking up videos or how-tos on social interaction, especially if a certain etiquette is required for an event. Learn about conversation starters and fun things you could do together like hosting a game night. Practice makes perfect, and over time the blockage will melt into the stream.

Pile 6 - Trust (Blue)

3 of Swords, Conversion

You have a very soft and tender outlook on life, which makes it all the more painful when reality doesn't conform to such a compassionate vision. It doesn't always try to respond to vulnerability in appropriate ways. Much of the time, this isn't from natural events as much as it stems from the ways in which people can treat one another cruelly. You've had some toxic people in your life who have put you through the wringer and attempted to squeeze every ounce of kindness they could from you. Making light of this pain to them only resulted in further deflection and antagonism on their part. The only outcome was to salvage whatever you could and pray for the best.

It is not your job to change their closed minded perspectives. They're on their own, here. Do not concern yourself with their messy inner world and lose any more of your energy. Also, do not attempt to regain what energy has been lost through bargaining either, as much as it hurts to press onward without looking back. You will recover, but you have to move on first and prioritize what you deeply care about most (you included).

There will come a time when your heart will be healed so you can see the brighter side of human connection again. All the beauty that your gentle soul is seeking is still there, shrouded by layers of protective petals that will one day bloom again and your life will truly flourish. For now, this is a time to give yourself all the comfort you can.

Pile 7 - Intuition (Violet)

XII Hanged Man, Spring

I get the feeling that you've been waiting quite a while for some good results to come in. This could either be from something that you started back in the spring, or are waiting to see results which may come around springtime. It is a season of flowers, so you may be waiting for this thing to blossom--that is, to be fully presentable to the public in some way. To have something to show for the time you put in. Like "hey, this is what I've been working on, this came from the seeds I planted." It could be growing in a direction unlike what you're used to, leaving you wondering how it could succeed in such unusual and burdensome conditions.

Lean on your inner guidance when it comes to the right timing. I don't believe that you're currently in a space where you need to push so hard for the best results. You can let things move at their own pace. Over tending to anything can end up in just as much trouble as neglect. There's only so much you can do before you have to let the flower do the growing and blooming for itself.

It's not always easy to sit in the place of uncertainty with the idea that doing more will provide more. But sometimes less is more. What you're creating is coming to fruition and may even turn out better than you expected. Trust in both the knowledge you've earned over time from learning lessons, as well as your natural intuition, to help you decide when it's time to take action.

Pile 8 - Love (Pink)

7 of Swords, Gossip

Let your heart lead the way here, not your worries over what others will think. Sure, you may end up with some people talking about you, but opportunities will keep passing by if you wait for everyone else to catch up to you. Leaning too much on everyone else's perspectives will only distort the vision you have for your own life journey. We all have unique journeys to go on, but unconditional kindness remains at the center of the Love card, the one thing that brings us together. Following life from a heart centered place may result in having others glance over and whisper, but that shouldn't distract you.

There is a rather delicate message here about dealing with friendships, colleagues, or possibly even family. You may have a tricky situation between several other people right now who have beef not with you but with each other. They may be coming to you to air their grievances and ask for advice.

If you care about both of these people, then it's best to approach this issue as diplomatically and impartially as possible and avoid feeding into the conflict. What would an enlightened mindset do in this situation? How would you want the other person to behave if they were in your shoes? Come from a place of pure compassion. They may choose to make amends or not, it's up to them. If their butting heads is bringing you down, it's always okay to step back and take a break. You are not responsible for what's going on in their heart, only your own, so protect yours well.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

121 notes · View notes

hannahhook7744 · 2 months ago

Note

eniemes of Hannah Hook mood boards ?

Part 1 of 3. Inspired by @thecaptainsgingersnap and @theinnerworkingsofoc . Warning Long Post below cut:

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Name: Pippa Tabitha Bell.

Fc: Jodie Foster.

Nicknames: P.T.B, P.T, P.B, Pips, Pip, Pipper, Pip Bell, Dust-Tinkerer, Pippie, Pipkin, Pippita, Pipka, Pippulina, Pipsy, Pippo, Pippi Long Stockings, Pipperoni, Pipster, Pipsqueak, Pippo, and Pippo the hippo (if you want to get punched).

Sexuality: Lesbian.

Pronouns: She/Her.

Birthday: October 28th, 2049.

Height: 4”6.

Weight: 115 Ibs.

Hair Color: Dark blonde with green and brown streaks.

Eye Color: Pale-Blue.

Place Of Birth: Pixie Hollow.

Hobbies: Dust Alchemy/Experimenting, tourney, tinkering, fast flying, pranking, art, listening to music, hide and seek, playing games, r.o.a.r, archery, bug and spider keeping, inventing, flowers, and alternative fashion.

Fears/Phobias: Ornithophobia, Aquaphobia, needles, and She's afraid of losing her wings.

Likes: Art, pranks, flying, playing games with her friends, music, archery, alternative fashion, r.o.a.r, tourney, dodgeball, spiders, tinkering, alchemy, dust alchemy, science, experimenting, collections, snowball fights, inventing, Pumpkin muffin, fairy tag, tag, hot-chamomile tea, strawberry cake, gardening, flowers, bugs, etc.

Dislikes: Water, Hannah Hook, hawks, the R.O.A.R rule book, the tourney rule book, dirty wings, people touching her wings, History of Woodsmen and Pirates, being told what to do, cherry cake, etc.

Favorite musicians: The Talking Dragons, The Dragon Slayers, Miguel Rivera, Teeth and the Electric Mayhem, and Lyra the Music Fairy.

Physical Quirks/Scars: Freckles and moles.

Interesting Facts:

•As a dust fairy, she can't sneeze: it's physically impossible for her to sneeze.

•She was dropped out of a window as a child. It was an accident. Peter was very sorry.

•Pippa will occasionally translate memes into fairy speak for fun.

•She shops almost exclusively at thrift shops.

Family: Tinkerbell (Mother),

Terrance (Father),

Periwinkle (Maternal Aunt),

And Tenzin (Younger Brother).

Honorary Family: The Lost Boys/Lost Kids, Peter Pan, and Other Pixie Hollow Residents.

Friends: Sheldon Darling, Warren Darling, Wilma Darling, Cheney Darling, and Tulip Rossi.

Pets: Her Spider Farm.

Love Interest: Tulip Rossí of Neverland (Former),

Kate McCardy (Former),

Wilma Darling (Former),

And Lainey Winters (Current Crush).

Optimistic or Pessimistic: Optimistic.

Introvert or Extrovert: Extrovert.

Occupation: Unofficial Teacher’s Assistant (For her mom).

Extracurriculars: Art Club, Sewing Club, and Fight Club (she also joins Tourney and R.O.A.R the moment she's allowed after d2).

Favorite Animal: Crocodiles, Alligators, Mice, or Fireflies.

Favorite Color: Green or Acorn Brown.

Favorite Book: Frankenweenie’s Dog.

Favorite Food: Strawberry Cake.

Favorite Drink: Hot-Chamomile Tea.

Favorite Movie/TV Show: Big Bling Theory or Auradon’s Ninja Warriors.

Favorite Class: Honors Alchemy.

Background: Eight years after the isle was built, Tinkerbell and Terrance's firstborn child was born in Pixie Hollow.

That child was Pippa Tabitha Bell.

Pippa Bell was raised on stories about Peter Pan, the lost children, and the Neverland pirates: the most notable of which being Captain Hook.

Pippa has hated Captain Hook for as long as she could remember and that hatred for him has transferred over to his children.

Hannah Hook, the Hook closest to her age, especially.

She was not happy to hear a Hook was coming to Auradon and swore that she would NOT allow Neverland to relieve the terror that was Captain Hook.

Pippa has made it her top priority to get rid of Hannah Hook by any means necessary.

~~~~Playlist~~~~

“Fly to your Heart” by Selena Gomez.

“Fall Little Wendy Bird, Fall” by Lydia The Bard.

“Take the Shot” by Lydia The Bard.

“To the Fairies They Draw Near” by Loreena McKennitt.

“People I Don't Like” by Upsahl.

“Time Adventure” by Rebecca Sugar.

“Peter Pan Was Right” by Anson Seabra.

Name: Tulip Misa Rossí.

Fc: Kiawentiio Tarbell (Younger),

And Devery Jacobs (Older).

Nicknames: Lampwick's Mini-Me, Red, Carrot top, Lip, Tul, Tu, T, Little T, Donkey Ears, Donkey Girl, Ligera's Extra Twin, Drama Queen, Material Girl, Primadonna, Cherry, Spoil, Angel, Copper Top, Donkey-ette, Donkey Queen, Prom Queen to be, Homecoming Queen to be, and Neverland's Sweetheart.

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Pronouns: She/Her.

Birthday: March 26th, 2049.

Height: 4”6.

Weight: 115 Ibs.

Hair Color: Reddish Brown.

Eye Color: Brown Eyes.

Place Of Birth: Tiger's Head, Neverland.

Hobbies: Sewing, shopping, pranks, girly crafts, pool, swimming, sunbathing, weaving, reading, interior designing, fashion designing, gaming, dancing, and singing.

Fears/Phobias: The color beige, swans, losing her family, the coachmen, and spiders.

Likes: Animals, sewing, pranks, her dad, dwarf gems, fairy bubblegum, cheerleading, listening to music, crafting things, horror stories, shopping, the queen’s closet, strawberry icecream, makeup, etc.

Dislikes: The Coachmen, Captain Hook, her parents’ being strict, being bored, unrequited love, being embarrassed, admitting she's wrong, sharing with people she doesn't like, Hannah Hook, etc.

Favorite musicians: Pressure Cracks, Miguel Rivera, and The Sorcerer's Apprentices.

Physical Quirks/Scars: Perfect Pearly White Teeth.

Interesting Facts:

•She can turn into a donkey.

•She makes all the native powwow outfits in her family as well as the costumes for every school play

•Tulip is a daddy's girl.

•She’s allergic to poison ivy and pollen.

•Tulip never had enemies before Hannah...she's so popular and well liked.

•Hannah and Tulip are only enemies because Tulip insists they are. It's mostly one-sided.

Family: Angelo Accardi (Paternal Great-Grandfather)(Deceased),

Bria Rossí (Paternal Great-Grandmother),

Gianna 'Gia' Allegra Rossí (Paternal Great Aunt),

Carina Rossí (Paternal Grandmother),

Marco Santoro-Ruffini (Biological Parental Great-Grandfather),

Bettina Santoro-Ruffini (Biological Parental Great-Grandmother),

Frankie Santoro-Ruffini (Biological Parental Grandfather)(Disowned but notable enough to mention),

Geppetto Collodi (Paternal Step Grandfather),

Gustavo Collodi (Paternal Step Uncle)(Deceased),

Pinocchio Collodi-Rossi-Liddell (Paternal Step Uncle),

Alice Collodi-Rossi-Liddell (Paternal Step Aunt-via-Marriage),

Allison 'Ally' Collodi-Rossi-Liddell (Paternal Older Step Cousin),

Pino 'Pin' Collodi-Rossi-Liddell (Paternal Step Cousin),

Amelia Collodi-Rossi-Liddell (Paternal Younger Step Cousin),

Karina Collodi-Rossi-Liddell (Paternal Adoptive Younger Cousin),

Fabian Collodi-Rossi-Liddell (Paternal Adoptive Younger Cousin),

James Collodi-Rossi Collodi-Rossi (Paternal Adoptive Uncle),

Ruth Collodi-Rossi (neé Darling)(Paternal Adoptive Aunt-via-Marriage),

Bianca Collodi-Rossi (Paternal Adoptive Younger Cousin),

Bella Rossí (Paternal Aunt),

Augusto 'August' Collodi-Rossi (Paternal Uncle),

Valentina 'Valen/Val' Collodi-Rossi (Paternal Aunt),

Harry Badun (Paternal Distant Cousin),

Jace Badun (Paternal Distant Cousin),

Romeo 'LAMPWICK' Collodi-Rossi (Father),

Tiger Lily (Mother),

Chief Tiger Bamboo (Maternal Grandfather),

Tiger Rose (Maternal Grandmother),

Hard-To-Hit (Maternal Uncle),

Anakin (Maternal Younger Cousin),

Blue Begonia (Maternal Great Grandmother),

Purple Lilac (Maternal Great Aunt),

Brave Oak (Maternal Great Uncle-via-Marriage),

Pink Daisy (Maternal first cousin once removed),

Tiger Peony Rossí (Older Sister),

Brave Pine (Maternal first cousin once removed-via-marriage),

Lola (Maternal second cousin once removed),

Blue Veronica Rossí (Younger Sister),

Sunflower Rossí (Younger Sister),

Petunia Rossí (Younger Sister),

And Rowan Rossí (Younger Brother).

Honorary Family: Alexander Bluefairy-Carmelo,

Princess Eilonwy of Llyr,

Scarlet Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr,

Carter Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr,

Eleanor Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr,

Eloise Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr,

Reese Jenkins, etc.

Friends: Pino Collodi-Rossi-Liddell, Ligera Guzmán Madrigal, Eleanor Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr, Pippa Bell, Sheldon Darling, Warren Darling, Cheney Darling, Neverland Cheer Team, etc.

Pets: Parsnip (Donkey).

Love Interest: Prince Haul Bjorgman of Arendelle (One-Sided Crush),

Prince Artorius 'Artie' Pendragon of Camelot (Future Partner).

Optimistic or Pessimistic: Optimistic.

Introvert or Extrovert: Extrovert.

Occupation: The Donkey-ettes (her band), Self-Made Fashion Designer, and Auratuber (Her channel name is 'Neverlight').

Extracurriculars: Cheerleading, Drama Club, and Sewing Club.

Favorite Animal: Donkey.

Favorite Color: Pink or Green.

Favorite Book: Leo’s Dream or The Seamstress’ Trist.

Favorite Food: Lampwick's Meat Lovers' Lasagna.

Favorite Drink: Cherry Sprite.

Favorite Movie/TV Show: Get Down With The Ballgown, The Real Princesses of Charmingsville, or The Young and The Crownless.

Favorite Class: English.

Background: Eight years after the isle was built, Lampwick and Tiger Lily's second child was born.

This child was Tulip Misa Rossí of Neverland.

Tulip Rossí was raised on stories of Captain Hook and the Coachmen. Mostly told to her by her 'Uncle' Peter.

Because of this Tulip has hated Captain Hook and the Coachmen for as long as she could remember.

This is part of the reason why Tulip Rossí hates Hannah Hook with every inch of her being. But it's not the only reason.

Because, you see, once when Tulip was little and visiting her friend, Ligera Guzmán Madrigal, in the Encanto the Royal Family of Arendelle were also visiting the Encanto.

More specifically, they were visiting Ryder. Luisa Madrigal's husband.

It was during this time that Tulip met the future king of Arendelle, Haul Bjorgman, who she immediately developed a crush on when he saved her from a swan without hurting it.

Haul Bjorgman, who has a painfully obvious crush on Hannah Hook. The daughter of Captain Hook who JUST got to Auradon.

It isn't fair.

And Tulip is angry, and wants Hannah Hook gone.

~~~~Playlist~~~~

“Barbie Girl” by Aqua.

“Material Girl” by Madonna.

“Popular” by Kristin Chenoweth.

“Perfect Day” by Hoku Clements.

“Primadonna Girl” by MARINA.

“Nobody's Perfect” by Hannah Montana.

“What A Girl Is” by Dove Cameron.

Name: Poppy Penelope Belmagio of the Isle.

Fc: Unknown Extra.

Nicknames: P.R, Red Poppy, Green Poppy, The Green Fairy, Poppycat, Popsicle, Pops, Popsie, Pop, Pop Tart, Poppyseed, Popper, Popperoni, P, Boneless Poppy, Poppy Black, The Toy Maker, Poppy Redfairy, and Popcorn.

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Pronouns: She/Her.

Birthday: July 4th, 2048.

Height: 4”10.

Weight: 110 lbs.

Hair Color: Black and Green.

Eye Color: Red.

Place Of Birth: The Market Pace, Isle of the Lost.

Hobbies: Reading, gardening, vandalism, graffiti, dumpster diving, grave digging, grave robbing, flying, zip lining, parkour, watching horror movies, people watching, drawing, listening to music, dancing, photography, weaving, yoga, taxidermy, ghost therapist, meteorology, astrology, sculpting, meditation, stop motion, claymation, science, and hypnosis.

Fears/Phobias: Being forgotten, being replaced, her wings being damaged, Aquaphobia, turning into a puppet, Catagelophobia, Dementophobia, being rejected, being abandoned, and disappointing her mother and father.

Likes: Psychology, botany, the feeling of being in the air, dancing, graveyards, talking with ghosts, yoga, mud fights, tormenting Frollo, tormenting the Coachmen, heavy metal music, horror movie inspired music, The Bad Apples, etc.

Dislikes: The idea of her wings getting hurt, the Coachmen, her mother's disapproval, not having all the facts, Hannah Hook, being locked out of her house, Frollo's Creperie, Frollo's crêpes, etc.

Favorite musicians: Dark Devotion, The Bad Apples, Lil Yaz, and Quinlynn Hearts.

Physical Quirks/Scars: Star-shaped Birthmark on her shoulder.

Interesting Facts:

•You know how Sid from Toy Story and Enoch from Mphfpc both have a scene where they create scary looking toys? Poppy does that.

•Poppy would love to have a cat but her mom won't let her have one.

•She can fit herself into tiny spaces.

•Poppy has a mohawk.

Family: The Scarlet Fairy/The Red Fairy/ Ilaria Belmagio (Mother),

The Mad Doctor (Father),

Mr. Belmagio (Maternal Grandfather),

Mrs. Belmagio (Maternal Grandmother),

Niccolo Belmagio (Maternal Uncle),

The Blue Fairy/Chiara Belmagio/Evangeline (Maternal Aunt),

Ray (Maternal Uncle-via-Marriage),

Alexander Bluefairy-Carmelo (Maternal Cousin),

Evangeline Belmagio (Maternal Cousin),

Auberon Belmagio (Maternal Cousin),

Ella Belmagio (Maternal Cousin),

Willow Belmagio (Maternal Cousin),

Alastor Belmagio (Maternal Cousin),

Bloom Belmagio (Maternal Cousin),

Stella Belmagio (Maternal Cousin),

and Cosmo Belmagio (Maternal Cousin).

Honorary Family: None.

Friends: Reina Enriquez, Gauntlet Gloom, Macon Thropp-Tigelaar, and Olga Hearts.

Pets: None.

Love Interest: Macon West (Future).

Optimistic or Pessimistic: Pessimistic.

Introvert or Extrovert: Extrovert.

Occupation: Corpse Delivery Service and Potion Ingredients Scavenger.

Extracurriculars: Wicked Beauties and Fight Club.

Favorite Animal: Star-nosed Mole or Cats.

Favorite Color: Dark Green, Black, or Cherry Red.

Favorite Book: The Corpse Bride or Dignity and Detriment.

Favorite Food: Fish Cakes or Slightly Used Candy.

Favorite Drink: Coffee or Tears of Despair.

Favorite Movie/TV Show: Say Yes To The Hex or Pretty Little Liars.

Favorite Class: Weird Science.

Background: Six years after the isle was built, the Red Fairy had a tryst with the Mad Doctor and nine months later Poppy Belmagio was born.

Four years later her best friend, Olga Hearts, cut Hannah Hook's hair and got punched in the face: getting a broken nose.

From then on Poppy Belmagio has had beef with Hannah Hook and likely will continue to have beef with her till day one of them dies or the day Olga stops having beef with her.

~~~~Playlist~~~~

“The Family Jewels” by MARINA.

“Weird Science” by Oingo Boingo.

“The Background World” by Nine Inch Nails.

“Seventeen” by MARINA.

“I Hate The Homecoming Queen” by Emily Osment.

“Welcome To The Family” by Avenged Sevenfold.

“Gallowdance” by Lebanon Hanover.

Name: Prince Carter Geraint Vito Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr.

Fc: Lucas Grabeel.

Nicknames: Cart, Car, C, Scarlet’s Twin, Blondie, Chess Master Carter, Debate Boy, Chess Boy, Blue, the Nicer Twin, the Good Twin, Cartter, and the Croquet King.

Sexuality: Straight but thought he was bi for a while.

Pronouns: He/Him.

Birthday: February 15th, 2046.

Height: 5”4.

Weight: 141 Ibs.

Hair Color: Dirty Blonde.

Eye Color: Blue.

Place Of Birth: Llyr, Auradon.

Hobbies: Mixology, croquet, chess, debating, counting cards, math color sheets, 3D Printing, variant sudoku, sunbathing, shopping, skating, listening to music/going to concerts, baking, pep rallies, gymnastics, r.o.a.r, repairing/building vintage cars, backstreet racing, and Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons.

Fears/Phobias: Metamorphphobia (Fear of Metamorphosis/being transfigured into something else), losing his popularity, losing his friends, his girlfriends leaving him, and going bald.

Likes: His family, owls/birds in general, fashion, croquet, mixology, gym, math, concerts, the color blue, cosplaying, cars, shopping, sushi, coffee, Mr. Deley, taffy, and lemonade cake.

Dislikes: The Coachman, The Horned King, Villain Kids, Hannah Hook, the color orange, sweat pants, science, his sister dragging him into her busting, chemistry, hiking, bad hair days, etc.

Favorite musicians: The Sorcerer's Apprentices,

Aladdin and the Lamps, The Donkey-ettes, Crazy Harry, and Pressure Cracks.

Physical Quirks/Scars: He has a white circle around his pupil inside of his iris, a pointy chin, and a small, faint scar on his chin from when he was learning to shave.

Interesting Facts:

•He didn't inherit his mother's magic.

•He had a situationship with Chad.

•He’s a twin.

•He has a not-so minor peanut allergy that Scarlet does not share.

Family: Angharad (Maternal Grandmother),

Geraint (Maternal Grandfather),

Regat (Maternal Great Grandmother),

Princess Eilonwy of Llyr (Mother),

Alexander Bluefairy-Carmelo (Father),

Princess Scarlet Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr (Twin Sister),

Princess Eleanor Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr (Younger Sister),

Princess Eloise Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr (Younger Sister),

Poppy Belmagio (Paternal First Cousin Once Removed),

Mr. Belmagio (Paternal Great Grandfather),

Mrs. Belmagio (Paternal Great Grandmother),

Niccolo Belmagio (Paternal Great Uncle),

The Blue Fairy/Chiara Belmagio/Evangeline (Paternal Grandmother),

Ray (Paternal Step Grandfather-via-Marriage),

Sienna Conti (Adoptive Paternal Step Grandmoher-via-Marriage),

Vito Carmelo (Adoptive Paternal Step Grandfather-via-Marriage),

Auberon Belmagio (Paternal Uncle),

Evangeline Belmagio (Paternal Aunt),

Ella Belmagio (Paternal Aunt),

Willow Belmagio (Paternal Aunt),

Alastor Belmagio (Paternal Uncle),

Bloom Belmagio (Paternal Aunt),

Stella Belmagio (Paternal Aunt),

and Cosmo Belmagio (Paternal Pibling).

Honorary Family: The Collodi-Rossi-Liddell Brood.

Friends: Princess Roanne, The Croquet Team, The Auradon Prep Cheerleaders, The Chess Team, Dave Byner of Prydain, Tanner Baker, Mal (eventually), and The Debate Team.

Pets: Sir Oinkers (A Piglet).

Love Interest: Prince Chad Charming of Cinderellasburg (Former Situationship),

Demurra Foxworth (Girlfriend),

Princess Mia Westergaard-La Bouff of New Orleans (Girlfriend),

And Stella Rabbit (Girlfriend).

Optimistic or Pessimistic: Pessimistic

Introvert or Extrovert: Extrovert.

Occupation: Auradon’s Mixologist-for-hire (secretly).

Extracurriculars: Debate Team, Croquet Club, Mathletes, and Chess Club.

Favorite Animal: Owls, pigs, or whatever the hell Gurgi is.

Favorite Color: Blue, Gold, or Black.

Favorite Book: The King, The Doppelgänger, and The Bride.

Favorite Food: Sushi or fruit salad.

Favorite Drink: Ocean Blue Calypso’s Lemonade or Pumpkin Spice Latte.

Favorite Movie/TV Show: The Prince Is Right or The Young and The Crownless.

Favorite Class: Math or English.

Background: Five years after the isle was created, a young couple—Princess Eilonwy of Llyr and Alexander Bluefairy-Carmelo—had their firstborn children.

Their firstborn children being a pair of twins: named Scarlet and Carter Bluefairy-Carmelo.

Carter and Scarlet grew up close as close could be and grew up hearing stories of the Coachmen, the Horned King, Captain Hook, the Queen of Hearts, and all the damage they (and other villains) had done when they were still running around and wreaking havoc.

Including but not limited to the Horned King murdering their maternal grandparents.

Because of this, Carter and Scarlet both grew up with a strong and utter hatred for villains, their henchmen, and anyone associated with them. Which of course leads to some tension when Soon-to-be King Ben announces his first ever proclamation which is bringing the isle kids over.

From the moment the vks get there both Carter and Scarlet are antagonistic but Hannah Hook, whose entire personality and utter sneakiness and grouchiness just screams that she's up to something diabolical. Which makes her a target for them.

Carter wants her gone and has his eyes on her.

And Scarlet is ready to bust her.

~~~~Playlist~~~~

“People I don't like” by Upsahl.

“Gives You Hell” by The All-American Rejects.

“You Always Hurt the One You Love” by The Mills Brothers.

“Everything That Isn't Me” by Lukas Graham.

“Oath” by Cher Lloyd.

“Celebrity” by Brad Paisley.

“Two By Two” by Rachel Ruderman, John William Kavanaugh, and Laurie Israel.

Name: Princess Scarlet Sienna Angharad Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr.

Fc: Jessica Rothe.

Nicknames: Scarlett, The Evil Twin, The Mean Twin, Pink, Scar, Lett, Ponytail, Mean Barbie, Honey, Goldilocks, Drama Queen, Pinkie, Smart Alec, etc.

Sexuality: Lesbian.

Pronouns: She/Her.

Birthday: February 15th, 2046.

Height: 5”4.

Weight: 131 Ibs.

Hair Color: Dirty Blonde.

Eye Color: Blue.

Place Of Birth: Llyr, Auradon.

Hobbies: Cheerleading, croquet, hair styling, dress up, gymnastics, yoga, hiking, working out at the gym, gossiping, reading, shopping, snooping, scrapbooking, dancing, going to concerts, listening to music, and playing with her cat.

Fears/Phobias: Losing her friends, losing her popularity, her girlfriend leaving her, outliving Carter, Equinophobia, the color beige, and Metamorphphobia (Fear of Metamorphosis/being transfigured into something else).

Likes: Croquet, shopping, spas, cheerleading, gymnastics, strawberries, coffee, reality tv, chocolate milk, reading, the color pink, swans, cats, hair styling, Mr. Deley, hiking, and fashion.

Dislikes: The Coachman, The Horned King, Villain Kids, Hannah Hook, the color orange, the color black, taffy, bad hair days, mud (or anything really) in her hair, rain, her sea sickness, etc.

Favorite musicians: The Donkey-Ettes, The Sorcerer’s Apprentices, 4TOWN, and Pressure Cracks.

Physical Quirks/Scars: A pointy chin and thin, faint, jagged scars on her legs from when she was learning to shave.

Interesting Facts:

•She did inherit her mother's magic.

•She’s a twin.

•She has a mild pollen allergy and a mild shellfish allergy—allergies which Carter does not share.

•Scarlet and Carter aren't identical twins, despite popular belief.

Family: Angharad (Maternal Grandmother),

Geraint (Maternal Grandfather),

Regat (Maternal Great Grandmother),

Princess Eilonwy of Llyr (Mother),

Alexander Bluefairy-Carmelo (Father),

Prince Carter Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr (Twin Brother),

Princess Eleanor Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr (Younger Sister),

Princess Eloise Bluefairy-Carmelo of Llyr (Younger Sister),

Poppy Belmagio (Paternal First Cousin Once Removed),

Mr. Belmagio (Paternal Great Grandfather),

Mrs. Belmagio (Paternal Great Grandmother),

Niccolo Belmagio (Paternal Great Uncle),

The Blue Fairy/Chiara Belmagio/Evangeline (Paternal Grandmother),

Sienna Conti (Adoptive Paternal Step Grandmoher-via-Marriage),

Vito Carmelo (Adoptive Paternal Step Grandfather-via-Marriage),

Ray (Paternal Step Grandfather-via-Marriage),

Auberon Belmagio (Paternal Uncle),

Evangeline Belmagio (Paternal Aunt),

Ella Belmagio (Paternal Aunt),

Willow Belmagio (Paternal Aunt),

Alastor Belmagio (Paternal Uncle),

Bloom Belmagio (Paternal Aunt),

Stella Belmagio (Paternal Aunt),

and Cosmo Belmagio (Paternal Pibling).

Honorary Family: The Collodi-Rossi-Liddell Brood.

Friends: Carter Bluefairy-Carmelo, Stella Rabbit, Princess Mia Westergaard-La Bouff, Demurra Foxworth, cheerleaders, croquet club, chess team, Mal (eventually), and debate team.

Pets: Sapphire (Ragdoll Cat).

Love Interest: Princess Audrey Rose of Auroria (One Sided Crush),

Princess Roanne (Girlfriend).

Optimistic or Pessimistic: Pessimistic.

Introvert or Extrovert: Extrovert.

Occupation: Self-Proclaimed Professional Hair Stylist and Princess of Llyr.

Extracurriculars: Cheerleading, Croquet Club, drama club, and Ethics and Morals Committee.

Favorite Animal: Swans or Cats.

Favorite Color: Pink or White.

Favorite Book: Woodhouse, Ida, or the Prince Roulette.

Favorite Food: Strawberry Shortcake, Chicken Salad, or Sushi.

Favorite Drink: Chocolate Milk, Strawberry Smoothies, or mocha lattes.

Favorite Movie/TV Show: The Real Princesses Of Charmsville and The Belle of the Ball.

Favorite Class: The History of Woodsmen and Pirates.

Background: Five years after the isle was created, a young couple—Princess Eilonwy of Llyr and Alexander Bluefairy-Carmelo—had their firstborn children.

Their firstborn children being a pair of twins: named Scarlet and Carter Bluefairy-Carmelo.

Including but not limited to the Horned King murdering their maternal grandparents.

Carter wants her gone and has his eyes on her.

And Scarlet is ready to bust her.

Scarlet just knows that this girl is up to something and she plans to do something about it. Whether anyone believes her or not.

~~~~Playlist~~~~

“Like Your Boyfriend” by Tegan and Sara.

“How To Be A Heartbreaker” by MARINA.

“Backstabber” by Kesha.

“Girlfriend” by Avril Lavigne.

“Drama Queen” by Family Force 5.

“Meet The Plastics” by Original Broadway Cast of Mean Girls.

“Take Her From You” by Dev.

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

Thanks @bellalampwickrossi for the help.

#descendants #melissa de la cruz #disney descendants #descendants au #wicked world #disney descendants au #disney #the marvelous misadventures of hannah hook and co #the marvelous misadventures of hannah hook #ocs descendants #original characters #moodboards #character info #etc

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which-qsmp-egg-would · 1 year ago

Text

Time for the June Summary! And we've got some WILD results!

Lullah

For the first time EVER, Richarlyson has been dethroned!! Lullah won 11/60 polls, and tied in 2 more polls.

Lullah has been voted most likely to:

Love to sing when she's alone, but hate it when there's people around

Stay up way too late to watch the stars

Have a Hamilton phase

Make paper fortune tellers

Be obsessed with crafts to the point almost everything in their room is homemade

Try to go foraging for mushrooms

Make flower crowns for her siblings

Make Warrior Cats AMV's

Be a fiber artist

Host her birthday party at a "Paint Your Own Pottery" place

Win the talent show

Richarlyson

Despite being dethroned, I'm pretty sure that Richas will never be below top 3. Richas has won 12/60 polls this month, and tied for another one. Richas has been voted most likely to:

Put an object in his tooth gap

Be banned from the kitchen for causing a fire

WILLINGLY put his head in Freddy Fazbear's mouth

Be the first to jump into the pool

Not realise that straight people exist

Dye his sibling's hair in the middle of the night

Sneak out of bed to secretly watch whatever late night TV their parents have on

Be the goalkeeper in a football/soccer team

Eat his shed skins like a leopard gecko

Play dirty in Marco Polo

Play on Roblox

Sneak into the kitchen to eat butter straight from the butter dish

Dapper, Pepito & Sunny

With 7/60 polls won each (Well, technically Dapper won 6 and tied for one), Dapper has been voted most likely to:

Convince her siblings that he has magical powers

Collect trading cards

Perform a science experiment that forces the class to evacuate

Play scary games at a sleepover just to scare everyone

Tell their parent bedtime stories

Have strong opinions about classical music composers

Pepito has been voted most likely to:

Not recognize a parent after they got a haircut, and start crying because Pepito thinks they are a stranger

Get lost in an airport

Crawl into Pepito's parent's bed after a nightmare

Play on Club Penguin

Parallel play with a sibling by watching them play videogames

Accidentally trip on the graduation stage

Be tricked by Pepito's sibling giving Pepito an unplugged controller

Sunny has been voted most likely to:

Win a fashion contest

Cry crocodile tears

Have imaginary family members

Write exclusively in sparkly gel pens

Have a new playground boyfriend/girlfriend every day

Be a picky eater

Host a sleepover

Chayanne

With 5/60 polls won, Chayanne has been voted most likely to:

Be really into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Be super into greek mythology

Be a natural leader in a Lord Of The Flies -like story

Jump on the stage of a talent show to help a sibling with stage fright

Get really competitive at the Splat-A-Lot course

Ramón & Pomme

With 3/60 polls won each, Ramón has been voted most likely to:

Make dioramas

Eat instant ramen at LEAST twice a day

Start a stick blacksmith shop

Pomme has been voted most likey to:

Be at the library every day if she could

Offer free face painting of pride flags at a pride event

Go all out for pride month

Leonarda & Empanada

With 1/60 polls won, and tied for 1 more, Leo has been voted most likely to:

Play on Neopets

Empanada has been voted most likely to:

Embroider in her spare time

Chunsik

With 1/60 polls won, Chunsik has been voted most likely to:

Step outside for 10 minutes and somehow get sunburnt

Now, onto the ties!

Lullah & Empanada

have tied for being most likely to have a sticker journal!

Lullah & Leonarda

Have tied for being most likely to play on Animal Jam!

Dapper & Richarlyson

Have tied for being most likely to try to scare their sibling while they're playing a horror game!

I'll see you all next month! o/

#qsmp #qsmp eggs #qsmp Chayanne #qsmp Tallulah #qsmp Lullah #qsmp dapper #qsmp ramón #qsmp leonarda #qsmp Richarlyson #qsmp pomme #qsmp pepito #qsmp Empanada #qsmp sunny #qsmp sunnysideup #qsmp chunsik #not a poll #month recap #I dont know if you all understand how excited I was to see that Lullah had won

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detentiontrack · 10 months ago

Note

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

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

Sage's supercool freshman survival guide:

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

A notebook for each class

A good pack of pens (i like gel pens)

A pack of pencils (+ sharpener) or mechanical pencils

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

Ruler and calculator if you are taking math/science classes

A binder or folder for loose papers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hope this helps!

#asks #anon #college #student #studyblr

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sexino · 13 days ago

Text

A Chance Encounter

Nathaniel liked empty spaces.

The university gym at 6:45 AM was exactly that: quiet, still, no shouting, no whistles. Just the creak of his sneakers on the mat and the rhythmic sound of his breath as he bent into another awkward hamstring stretch. He hated how his limbs never seemed to cooperate. His knees were knobby, his back stiff, and his balance nonexistent. But his friend Jacob said stretching would help his form, so here he was, trying.

“You’re gonna fall flat on your face.” The voice made him jolt. It was a baritone that could only belong to one person. Nathaniel spun to look at his visitor, but ended up on the floor anyway.

“Fuck…” He mumbled. “I didn’t think anyone else was here…” Nathaniel brushed himself off.

“Clearly.” It was Chance. Nathaniel’s eyes widened as he took in his interloper’s form. Chance Reyes, starting midfielder, Executive Dean’s List three years in a row, polyglot, and who knows what else. Chance was much too smart for his dastardly good looks, and now he was walking toward Nathaniel, gym bag slung over one shoulder, eyes glinting off of the artificial gym lighting. “You’re Nathaniel, right?” He said, holding out a hand.

Nathaniel couldn’t believe what was happening, but gratefully accepted the hand.

“Uh, uh, yeah! Nathaniel Wicke, sophomore. Communications major.”

Chance pulled him up easily. “Chance Reyes, junior. Computer science and business.” He said with a smile.

Nathaniel flushed. “I know, I’m… you know, a fan,” the words tumbled out, “or, maybe not a fan necessarily but I like you — “ Chance’s face spelled pure enjoyment at Nathaniel’s struggling. “I mean, I mean, I like watching you play! I could never play soccer like you do, or any sport really! You’re really good.” His heart was beating faster than it does during a workout.

“I appreciate the compliment,” Chance said, smirking. “I saw you here yesterday. You play any sports?”

“I used to play baseball when I was a kid for a bit. Up until I got injured in 8th grade, then I stopped.” Nathaniel played with his cuticles.

“Cool! I love baseball. I could tell you had some experience — those legs don’t lie.” Chance laughed as if it was just a passing comment, but Nathaniel suddenly felt very hot. “Want some help? I have about an hour ‘til I need to leave.” Chance scratched his ear absentmindedly and his muscular, tan forearm revealed dark armpit hair. Nathaniel stared for a second before replying.

“Um, uh, yeah! Yeah, that would be really great, I’d really appreciate that, Chance.” He smiled awkwardly.

“Great! What were you just working on? Looked like stretching?” Hands on hips, Chance’s black tank top made him look like a sleek superhero. Nathaniel’s slightly athletic (but damaged from too many late nights with the munchies), pale physique stood in stark contrast.

“Yeah, I was just warming up.”

“Okay! Let’s get warmed up. I’ll show you my favorite dynamic stretches. We don’t want to stretch cold.” Chance stepped comfortably into his role as teacher, guiding Nathaniel through pose after pose, correcting his breathing and form when necessary.

When Chance was helping Nathaniel breathe through a hip flexor stretch, the front of his shorts bumped into Nathaniel’s back. “Keep that leg back,” he instructed, face close to Nathaniel’s ear. “Deep breaths in and out.” Nathaniel did as was told as best as he could.

“Here,” Chance positioned himself directly behind his student, “follow my lead.” In and out, in and out… Nathaniel’s breathing finally arrived at Chance’s pace. He could feel Chance’s breath on his neck and his towering body just inches from him. With every inhale, the warm scent of sandalwood entered Nathaniel’s nose, filling him up.

It became a ritual. Every morning before their first classes, Nathaniel and Chance arrived at the gym. Sometimes they were together, having coordinated schedules, sometimes it would be Nathaniel first, just sitting with his water bottle, nerves a tangle. Once, when Chance was early, Nathaniel caught him changing his tank top for a compression shirt. He was sweaty from a run before. His tan skin and hard muscles formed a V-taper from shoulders to waist, with V-lines starting below his navel. The sight nearly caused Nathaniel to buckle. Nathaniel’s gayness was something that always lurked under the surface, never something be would admit to. Now, though, he was having a harder time ignoring it.

They stretched side by side. Chance corrected his form, guided his arms, nudged his posture with light touches that sent a warm buzz through Nathaniel’s skin. It was just physical enough to feel like coaching, but close enough that Nathaniel caught himself holding his breath when Chance lingered.

“You’ve got these long legs,” Chance mused one morning, gripping Nathaniel’s ankle as he adjusted a hamstring stretch. “You ever think of soccer? Track?”

Nathaniel laughed nervously. “I can’t even step over a backpack without tripping.”

“That’s no problem, bro,” Chance said, grinning. “I’ll be your coach.” Nathaniel’s face was severely flushed.

“Uh…” His thoughts moved slowly. “Seriously?” Never in his life did he think he’d start playing soccer in college, let alone with a D1 athlete as a coach. “Like, for real?” Sitting on the gym floor, he took Chance in. Today’s yellow soccer jersey fit him perfectly. His usually styled, short black hair was messier, curlier than normal. He smelled strongly of oud — woody, musky, primal. His 6’2 stature seemed especially noticeable today.

“Nathaniel, I think you have what it takes,” said Chance. “We’ve been together, training, for a month. I know you now. I’ll even make a diet plan for you, get you eating what I’m eating.” The deep tones of his voice washed over Nathaniel the way a hypnotist’s words subsume their victims.

“Uh, um…” Nathaniel’s head felt empty. He was never very smart, a solid C/B student, but he now felt dumber than ever. “Why?” was all he could ask. Chance, seated on the floor, leaned back to let out a deep stretch. He fixed his gaze on Nathaniel.

“Because I said so.”

Save for the flicker of the gym lights, it was silent. Nathaniel just sat there. Had he heard correctly? “I’m sorry, what did you say?” He asked politely. Chance smiled his million dollar smile and subtly moved closer. He ran his large hand through his hair.

“I see the way you look at me, Nathaniel.” Chance paused, looking into his eyes. A red, confused face gazed back. “I can feel your anxiety and your arousal. I can feel how you stare at me when we stretch. How you jump when I touch you. How your eyes stay glued to mine when I speak. How deeply you breathe in my scent.” As if to mock him more, Chance removed his shirt. “Look me in the eye,” he said, “and tell me you can live without me.”

Nathaniel had no idea what was happening. His brain was gone. It had been replaced handily by Chance. Nathaniel was stepping on quicksand that was quick to pull him under. “I mean…” he exhaled and inhaled. The sight before him was too much. It was everything he needed but did not want to admit to himself he did. “I really barely even know you, Chance…” The excuse came out weakly. As he tried to look Chance in the eye, Nathaniel’s own eyes fell again and again on the pink areolas attached to big, brown slabs of muscle.

“Look me in the eye.” Chance said. Nathaniel exhaled again and looked at him. “And tell me you can live without me.” It took everything for Nathaniel to hold his gaze, to stare deep into Chance’s golden eyes. Chance flexed his bicep and Nathaniel shivered as if cold water just ran down his back. The heat between them was fit to explode, and in that moment, as Nathaniel gazed in lost ecstasy at his sweaty partner, Chance leaned forward, took Nathaniel’s face in his hand, and kissed him. Nathaniel wasn’t the best kisser, but that didn’t matter. Chance dominated, biting his soft lips and tonguing him down as far back as he could reach. Nathaniel gagged and his arms reached for Chance’s shoulders. Chance, tongue still down his throat, took Nathaniel’s outstretched arms and reversed the motion, laying him on his back. Once he was there, they separated.

“Good boy. Let me use my boy.” Chance’s voice was lower than usual. He spoke in Nathaniel’s ear. “Strip.”

Nathaniel’s eyes were glazed over in lust, fear, and confusion. He stared at Chance for a second, catching his breath, before he responded. “B-but what if people see us?!” He stumbled on his words.

“They won’t if you do what I say. Now let me strip you.” From Nathaniel’s view under him, Chance looked genuinely divine. Resigning to his fate, Nathaniel nodded, and in seconds, his shorts and t-shirt had been tossed aside. Chance left his underwear for last, where a surprisingly thick bulge waited. “Nice, bro,” he smiled. The underwear came off with a THWACK as Nathaniel’s short but very thick and dripping member came loose. “Fuck, dude.” Chance gave it a couple strokes, using Nathaniel’s precum as lube.

Nathaniel had entered into a heaven he never thought possible for him. Thoughts of his girlfriend faded from his mind as Chance pumped his thick cock. His large, smooth hand was so pleasant and applied just the right amount of pressure. Nathaniel’s body coursed with dopamine as the jock continued jerking him. No lube was necessary, not even spit, as his body produced round after round of precum. “F-f-fuck, Chance…” He finally managed to say, his back arching.

“Gonna…cum…soon…”

“Fuck, yeah, bro.” Keeping his hand on Nathaniel’s penis, Chance leaned toward his face and began kissing him again. This time, Nathaniel’s lips parted willingly and let all of him in. “Mmmh,” they both groaned. Chance disconnected. “Take my spit, boy.” Chance gathered the liquid in his mouth, and instead of launching it, let it drop like a vine. Nathaniel’s expression was that of pure revulsion, but he kept his mouth open anyway. “Good boy.” After he swallowed, Chance removed the hand on Nathaniel’s penis, spit in it, and went back to work. Nathaniel’s body jerked.

“A-a-a-ah…f-fu…” Nathaniel’s eyes rolled back and his back arched fully as he came. “Fuck…” Load after load exploded out of his girthy member and doused Chance’s arm. The orgasm tore through him as Chance kept his hand on Nathaniel’s penis, squeezing repeatedly. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he heaved, chest pounding. Beads of sweat rolled down Nathaniel’s neck.

“That was the best you ever had, huh?” Chance boasted. “And I didn’t even fuck you,” he laughed. “Good job, bro. This dick is thick as hell, too. You fuck girls with this?” Chance kept his grip on Nathaniel’s penis. Lust flared in Chance’s eyes.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, I do have a, uh, a girlfriend.” Nathaniel squeaked out.

“No way,” Chance’s alabaster grin lit up his face. “Well, say goodbye to her, bro. You’re mine now.”

Nathaniel could not think about anything else. In class, Chance’s biceps clouded his mind. Walking to the dining hall, the tree trunks turned into Chase’s tall, rugged body. He could still taste Chance’s saliva as he did his homework. Even in the now less frequent talks with his girlfriend, Chance’s marbled abs and debaucherous smile flashed before his eyes.

Nathaniel’s full and total capture happened three weeks after Chance jerked him off. It was a regular day, Nathaniel still thinking about Chance every opportunity. Nathaniel and his girlfriend were on their last days, and Chance saw to it that that night would be the final day of their relationship.

Chance texted Nathaniel to come over to his house. The fact that Chance commuted and still made time to be on top of everything the way he was impressed Nathaniel. “Sure you don’t want to be with…what’s her name? Serena? Sara? Stephanie?” Chance had chided.

“Uh…it’s Marina, actually, and…I mean, no, I want to be here.” Nathaniel’s shy, uncertain tone aroused Chance. They stood in his childhood bedroom. Shelves upon shelves of golden trophies lined the walls, and victory photos of Chance, sweaty and in gear, adorned the empty spaces. Nathaniel looked around reverently as if he were in a church.

“You want to be here, Nathaniel?” Chance was still wearing his soccer practice gear. He had cleaned up a bit, but sweat still dripped down from his wet hair. His yellow jersey and shorts clung tight to his body. “Or, do you need to be here?” Nathaniel, clad in a faded Green Lantern t-shirt and jeans, stared at Chance like a puppy waiting for its master’s next command.

“I, I…I need to be here. With you…”

“Good boy. Come here,” Chance said, beckoning, “and put your lips here. Make me feel good.” Nathaniel strode over more confidently than before and placed his lips on Chance’s jersey-covered nipple. “Taste the sweat and dirt, boy.” Making circular motions with his tongue, Nathaniel licked and suckled on Chance’s pec. The two stumbled as he dug deeper, pushing his tongue hard on the areola. Nathaniel’s arms came around Chance in a tight embrace. “Fuck…” Chance’s moan came out slightly higher pitched than he expected. Nathaniel worked hard, switching sides. He devoured the left nipple as deftly as the right, using his tongue to worship Chance. At the same time, Nathaniel’s right hand tweaked Chance’s right nipple.

“Goddamn…” Chance’s breaths came in shallower. He placed his left hand on Nathaniel’s head, pushing him down to up the pressure. “Fuck, fuck, hey,” he said, abruptly pulling Nathaniel’s head off him, “get on the bed.”

Nathaniel’s back hit heaven as he maneuvered on to Chance’s bed. “Feels good, huh?” said Chance, getting ready to get on with him.

“So good.” Nathaniel smiled and exhaled. “So soft.” Nathaniel was not one for creature comforts. The bed in his dorm was cheap and hard, and his bed at home wasn’t much better.

“Your life must kinda suck, huh, bro?” Chance joked again. “You stay with me and you can have this all the time.” Chance sat on the edge of the bed, readying to remove his shorts.

“Hey, Chance. Keep the jersey on…please.” Chance’s head whipped back to Nathaniel, a look of surprise and…admiration? on his face.

“Sure thing,” he laughed. When Chance took off his shorts, the massive bulge barely hiding there revealed itself. Clearly printing through the fabric, a wet spot appeared at a point on the strained piece of cloth. Chance hooked his thumbs in the sides of his jockstrap and pulled down.

“Fuck.” Nathaniel’s own dick, covered by denim, throbbed. In front of Nathaniel was Chance’s erect penis that could only be described as a monster cock. “How big is that…”

“9.5 inches long erect, 5 inch girth, and big, floppy balls, baby,” Chance slapped his cock on and off his abs, showing off his perfect smile in the process. “And you’re gettin’ it all right now.” Reaching over to his side table for lube, Chance slathered a comically large amount over his pulsing cock. “Take some, bro.” He offered it to Nathaniel, who looked bewildered. “Just rub it around your hole. And take those jeans off.”

“I-I-I’ve never…” He stammered.

“No worries, bro. What did you think this diet I’ve had you on was for?” Chance said, eyes gleaming in satisfaction. “Here, let me.” Nathaniel was staring in shock at Chance and thus not applying the lube or removing his jeans. Like a father, Chance gently removed his jeans and put them on the floor. Nathaniel’s black briefs came off easily and out sprang his hard, thick dick. Chance grunted in desire. He sat above Nathaniel, their faces breadths apart. “It’s gonna be a bit slimy,” Chance said, pouring the lube on his hand. Nathaniel hissed as Chance’s fingers reached his heretofore unexplored hole, but Chance’s lips were on Nathaniel’s before he could make any more noise. “Just breathe…good boy.” As his fingers slid in deeper, so did their kiss, until Chance was fully on top of Nathaniel, his lips devouring above while his fingers deflowered below.

Chance broke apart to catch his breath. “Fuck, I’m hard as fuck,” he panted, rubbing his soaked glans lightly. He leaned back in, closer to Nathaniel, whose fiercely flushed face betrayed all of his desire. “I’m gonna fuck you now, bro, okay?” Nathaniel nodded, adrenaline and dopamine and every feel-good chemical coursing through his veins. “You’re gonna forget your girlfriend,” Chance said, flexing his biceps. “You’re gonna forget your life before me.” He kissed his left bicep and planted his cock at the entrance to Nathaniel’s hole. “And you’re gonna love every second of this.” Kissing Nathaniel’s lips once again, Chance began to push into his hole.

“FUCK!” was the first thing out of Nathaniel’s mouth as soon as Chance’s tip popped in. “Ohhh…ahh…” he moaned. Chance had only the head in, but with every groan, he guided more of his cock into Nathaniel.

“Good boy, good boy.” Chance pushed a bit deeper, getting past the head and down to his length. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight. I could cum right now, bro,” he said, gliding in and out of Nathaniel’s wet hole. Chance looked down at his partner. Nathaniel had drool coming out of his mouth and his shirt was off. “Fuck, you look good, bro.” Chance leaned over until he reached Nathaniel’s chest. His lips found his nipples and he got to work, sucking and pumping.

Nathaniel’s thick member, rubbing against Chance’s wet jersey, was fit to burst. The combined pleasure of a cock in his ass and skilled lips on his rarely-touched nipples was almost mind breaking. In the three years he was with Marina, never did he experience anything close to this. In this moment, he wondered why? what did he do to deserve such a blessing?

Chance’s cock went deeper and Nathaniel’s breath caught. “Ch-Ch-Chance…” he said, his voice small. He was not heard, as Chance pushed even deeper, and even faster. Pain and pleasure shot through his entire body, spots of black and color flitting in and out of his vision. Enthralled, he wrapped his arms around Chance’s back, inadvertently pulling him closer, and deeper.

“Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh shit, bro,” Chance’s pounding grew uneven, his eyes closed and sweat dripping from his forehead. “Baby, I’m about to cum.” His deep voice quivered with ultimate pleasure.

“Don’t.”

“Huh…?”

“Don’t cum yet,” Nathaniel’s voice was stronger now. “Look at me, please.” From his position, Chance’s body, not that much larger than his own, seemed massive. His sunkissed skin, wet from exertion, was hypnotizing.

Chance opened his eyes and held Nathaniel’s gaze. “Why me?” He asked. Chance’s pumping slowed down as he registered the question. “Why choose me? There are hundreds, thousands…so many more guys on this campus. I’m just a nobody…” Nathaniel stared up into Chance’s eyes. “Sorry for ruining the moment…”

Chance laughed and stopped fucking him. “You’re good, bro,” he replied, wiping his forehead with his jersey. “You got one hell of a pussy, I’ll tell you that.” They both laughed. “No, but for real…when I first saw you, I knew I wanted to have you. You’re a cute guy. Bet you didn’t even notice we’re in the same Hispanic literature class. That’s how I knew I could get you.” Nathaniel looked confused.

“Wh-how?”

“When no one’s looking, you look kinda gay. The way you sit in your seat or something’s just kinda gay. And, based on how you answer questions and don’t turn in homework ever, I knew you weren’t smart enough to stop me. Or realize my plan.” Chance grinned down at Nathaniel, whose face was caught between surprise, fear, and attraction. “Looks like your brains all went to that thick ass dick. Also, always wanted to make a white boy submit to this Mexican dick.” He laughed, his pecs bouncing in the process.

Nathaniel could not believe what he was hearing, but he didn’t seem very much to care. “Oh…okay.” The flush came back to his cheeks. “That’s crazy…guess it worked, huh?” His breathing was evening out and he looked upon Chance with new passion. “Then dominate this white boy.”

“Oh, with pleasure, baby,” said Chance, grinning as he went in to kiss Nathaniel. He felt for his dick and returned it to its proper place.

“Ready?”

“Si, papi.”

Chance’s laugh was cut off as Nathaniel’s tight, wet, virgin hole devoured his member. Chance quickly found a rhythm and pushed the remaining inches in. Nathaniel’s ass burned and tightened at the massiveness invading it. “Breathe, baby, breathe.” Chance consoled, and Nathaniel listened. “There we go…” At full throttle now, Chance pumped like he was making a baby. “Fuck…gonna get you pregnant, baby,” his voice was husky and unrestrained.

“Kiss me.”

Chance responded without words. Their lips joined once more. Nathaniel took the lead this time, initiating a French kiss. Chance moaned in response. Nathaniel wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. Chance groaned. Nathaniel began moving his ass in time with the strokes, pushing Chance deeper and deeper. Chance started pounding so hard the bed made noises indicative of imminent collapse.

A roar ripped from Chance’s chest and tremors shook his body as he climaxed.

FUCKKK !

Nathaniel’s vice grip was not strong enough to restrain Chance’s cum-induced release. Breaking free from the kiss, Chance shifted positions to pump his seed even deeper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” was all he could say. Streams and streams of hot cum poured into Nathaniel’s hole from all angles. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Thick, white liquid broke containment and began trickling out of his ass with Chance’s cock still in it. “Gimme a sec, baby,” he said. Nathaniel lay in bed, covered in sweat and his own cum. His shorter, thick penis was still throbbing. Traces of cum littered his face where he had blown too far.

In a final surge of arousal, Chance opened Nathaniel’s ass as wide as it could go, and then shoved his balls in. “JODER!” He bellowed. Nathaniel’s face widened with a new, strange sensation.

“Are those…?”

“Damn right. Just knotted you, baby.” A breathless smile played on his face. “Man, your ass…crazy.” As if he hadn’t just came, Chance started fucking Nathaniel’s ass anew, albeit slower.

“You’re really an athlete.” Nathaniel joked. “I fuck with it…” he added, closing his eyes and submitting to the pleasure.

“Good boy. Very good boy.”

The two fucked like this for another hour before they both came again. Nathaniel lay on Chance’s now jersey-less chest as they recovered. The room was quiet. Chance’s breathing was relaxed and slow, Nathaniel’s faster but no less relaxed. The bed was a mess of cum, spit, urine, and lube. Clothes strewn all over the floor. The sky outside the window above Chance’s bed revealed a tangerine sunset.

“That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” Chance’s voice broke the silence. “Incredible.” The setting sun bathed the room the warmest orange and softest pink. Chance was going to say something else when he heard snoring. Nathaniel. It took everything in Chance to not laugh. The image of Nathaniel lying, covered in cum and who knows what else, on his chest snoring like two happy husbands was almost too precious. “Well,” he whispered, planting a kiss on Nathaniel’s neck, “get your beauty sleep, baby boy.”

Surreptitiously, Chance got out of bed and began to clean up. When things looked slightly less debaucherous, he got back in bed. Chance moved Nathaniel so he could spoon him, and it was like that, as day turned to night, that a new relationship was born.

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