#and installing it all would require so. much. work. and money. and time that I don't have

[xwhitepolar]

I'm keeping windows 7 on my desktop pc for Sims 2 but it's becoming more and more obsolete 😭 most of the games I want to try on Steam require w10, the text-to-speech softwares are terrible (you can't install additional voices... I have the default English but I'd need an italian one too for some books) + more and more things are becoming incompatible. I need to update both its hardware and software UGH

[the-ace-with-spades]

(sorry this got longer than I thought)

You know what fic I'd love to read?

One where Carole dies but doesn't get anything in order before her death (as is many times the case) and Mav is installed as Bradley's temporary guardian after her death but everything goes wrong very fast

Due to Mav's less than heterosexuals tendencies, Bradley ends up in the foster system. One day a social worker with a police officer just shows up and takes him away from school and he doesn't know what's going on. He ends up in his first not so good foster family the same evening. Mav can't even visit as he is deemed a bad influence and has an ongoing investigation if he is 'fit' to be Bradley's guardian.

He doesn't stop asking about Mav for months. Keeps trying to run away to him (he's about 50 miles away because foster homes are sparse so no dice) and finally his foster 'mom' is fed up with the constant asks to at least try and call Mav so she tells him Mav didn't want him and doesn't want Bradley to contact him.

And because Bradley is twelve, he believes it.

(It's not that Mav didn't try. There was a whole appeal process but Mav had a deployment right after and he couldn't explain to the social workers that no, Bradley would stay with someone trusted while he was gone, because that someone was Ice, the source of his suspected homosexual tendencies. They literally told him he's not allowed to contact Bradley and once he came back from deployment, Bradley was already in a different foster home, a few counties over and lost in the system.)

Bradley spends the rest of his childhood in the system. His first family is dubious and the following ones are a mix of constant hope and disappointment. He has at least two different families foster him every year, until he is sixteen and ends up in a group home. There are only two families that he actually comes close to calling family - a young married couple that stops fostering when the wife is diagnosed with chronic autoimmune disorder, and a couple of teachers that have to drop one of the two kids they foster when the financial requirements to foster raise and decide that Bradley is going to be that kid.

No one ever even thinks about adopting him. He's got good grades and stays on top of school, but that's about what is going well in his life. Some families he's with are average - they let him be and maybe don't care as much for anything that involves him as long it doesn't stir trouble at the fostering agency and Bradley is healthy and safe. Some families are worse - sometimes he is one of the five kids and is expected to stay and be a live-in nanny, sometimes they're only doing it for the money and he has barely anything, barely any food, barely any attention, barely any clothes, barely any school supplies, just so he doesn't cost too much. Sometimes, things get physical - it happens less, the taller he gets and by the time he starts fighting back, he has enough reputation that no one believes it and no one wants to foster him anymore. And group home it is.

By the time he's seventeen, he's enlisted. Just so he leaves the system as fast as he can. It all works out because the Navy fits the bill for his university and NROTC when the time comes - even if he's told he's not a good candidate for the USNA, even if he was told his grades and his achievements should be more than enough, even if despite the circumstances, he managed to meet the same requirements.

Finding out that it was Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell who protested his application and pulled the plug on it is Bradley's second heartbreak.

Bradley bites down any complaints he has about life and enters UVA at 21, with a military scholarship and NROTC bursary. At that point, he doesn't even know if he still wants to go into aviation, it brings so much bitterness in him. But then his grades and his overall achievement are so good, everyone says it'd be a waste if he didn't go to one of the most competitive pipelines. The Navy pays for his private pilot licence when he hesitates, and sure enough, it does feel good.

The pipeline is where he meets Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who has two brothers and two sisters and who has jars of homemade jam and chocolate-covered plums sent in a little package from his mom at least once a month. Jake Seresin, who uses all his leave to attend weddings, holiday parties, birthday parties, even a dog's funeral. Jake Seresin, who comes from every Thanksgiving with spare pumpkin pie, who has a new handmade Christmas sweater every year.

Jake Seresin, who, for some reason not known to Bradley, is impressed with how effortless learning to fly is for Bradley, with how much Bradley knows, with how much he leads in the lectures and the flight lessons - most guys find Bradley annoying and cold and Bradley would've agreed with them if any said it to his face. The Navy is the only good thing Bradley's had since his mom died, he has much more time to focus on being good at whatever Navy throws at him and maybe that makes him strange and aloof. But not Jake.

Jake Seresin, who is a competitive asshole that can't shut his mouth for his own good. Who has no idea of personal space, who fills the silence better than a jukebox, who will drill and drill the topic until he gets an answer he can comprehend, who doesn't care what people think of him as long as he knows his worth.

Bradley might have a bit of a crush on him, but it's an annoying crush kind of crush - one he doesn't really want to have, one he doesn't really know what to do with. Jake Seresin, who probably would never look at Bradley twice, especially in that way.

They get separate F-18 training bases and Bradley forgets for a moment Jake Seresin ever existed.

Then, summer of 2011, Jake Seresin gets restationed, right into Bradley's squadron. And he's still his annoying self, inserting himself into Bradley's private space, private time, and doesn't let Bradley have a say in it, at all.

Maybe Bradley doesn't want to have any say in it, deep down.

A few months later, DADT gets repealed. It doesn't change much for Bradley, he's not going to talk to anyone about his personal life. But it seems it changes something for Jake.

Because he asks Bradley out on a date.

Bradley's never really dated. Didn't really have the time to when he was a teenager, moved so many times, and then he enlisted, and then he was in college and NROTC. He slept with people, but he's never dated anyone.

So he gets to know Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who despite bringing all that food back with him any time he visits his parents, can't cook at all and who would hang onto Bradley's arm or shoulders whenever Bradley cooked. Who can sew so well that he saves all of Bradley's old shirts. Who can't keep his mouth shut, no matter the circumstances - not in the theatre, not when they eat, not when they just watch a movie at home, not even in bed. Who seems to know every single tune under the sun but can't play a single instrument. Who has elaborate, detailed plans for his life - an admiral by forty, two kids by thirty-five, a nice little house in driving distance to some body of water, a German shepherd or a border collie for a family dog once the house is there, a personal two or maybe four-person plane by the time he's forty-five, maybe co-owning aeroclub by fifty.

Bradley's never before thought about the future.

He never tells Jake even half of the things he's seen and lived through when he was in foster care, never tells him about his pulled application from USNA, never tells him about Mav. He doesn't think Jake would be able to understand, the way his family seems perfect and loving and caring. He doesn't want him to know how many things is wrong with him.

But Jake knows he's got no family, that his dad died in the Navy, his mom when he started middle school, that he's been in foster care for all his teenage years. Knows that Bradley has no one to come back home.

"Don't be a fool, sweetheart," is what Jake tells him. "You've got me."

For the first time in his life at the age of 29, Bradley requests Christmas leave.

Bradley's never had a big family, but there was a time he once had a family - or so he thought, when he was twelve and the illusion shattered - so he thought he'd be okay.

And at first, he is fine. Jake rotates him around like a prize piece, introducing him to his siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, nephews, cousins, grandparents, but it's just two or three people at once. Whenever it seems like too much, Bradley drifts away to the kitchen where he can just stay silent and listen to Jake's mom talk to the various people that come by while he slices homemade ham or he steps out onto the backyard and talks to the kids of all the ages gathered around the makeshift playground.

But then they're right before dinner starts - there are over thirty people in the open space of the house, now that everyone arrived, and Bradley feels hot, suffocating in the crowded space, in the clutter of gifts and food and colorful Christmas sweaters.

And then, before he can take any of it in, he hears Jake, saying in his typical loud and teasing tone, that Bradley can play the piano, and look at that, he could play something Christmas-y before the turkey is done, and next thing he knows, there's over thirty pairs of eyes on him and plenty of people asking questions and making teasing remarks and it all seems so tricky--

He can't imagine himself, in that room, with all those people, feeling comfortable. So he walks out.

Bradley doesn't know how to be a part of a family. There's no reason to try and lie to himself and everyone else.

They don't see each other for years after. The next time they do, it's only the eight weeks at Top Gun. The Jake that Bradley knew isn't there - this Jake is bitter and sarcastic and sharp with his tongue. This Jake wins Top Gun and never looks back at Bradley when he returns to his station base.

The next time they see each other is at the Top Gun recall when Bradley is going through a life roller coaster.

Not only is Jake being the biggest ass not just to him but to everyone, for the first time in twenty years, Bradley sees Mav. Sure, maybe he's not moved on from Jake - he still remains the only person Bradley ever dated - but he's managed to dodge Maverick, and Iceman by association, in all those years he's been in the Navy and now he's forced to pretend all is fine.

And Maverick doesn't make it easier.

He tries to approach Bradley like they're long-lost friends, saying all those things about how he missed him and how Bradley looks so much like his dad. Like he didn't leave him in the foster system when he was a kid and didn't fuck up his application for USNA.

So he pretends he doesn't remember Maverick because that's the easiest given that Maverick is supposed to train him.

On top of that, Jake mixes himself up into Bradley's shit life situation when he overhears Mav trying to get Bradley to 'remember' and 'renew their relationship' and keeps pestering Bradley. Maybe he can tell you more about your childhood, why the hell are you so rude to him, he wouldn't make up knowing you, you know, maybe he's got some of your parents' stuff and can share---

And hearing the love of his life that he let get away because Bradley didn't know how to be part of his family side with the first person that told Bradley he's not enough to be someone's family - well, it's not exactly helping the state of Bradley'e mental being.

So maybe he explodes at Jake, a little bit, in the end. You want to talk to the man who left me behind when I was twelve and the only time he looked back was to tell me he didn't think I was good enough? Then so be fucking it.

Instead of butting into Bradley's life, Jake shuts up and starts avoiding him. Bradley supposes he has what he wanted.

Bradley doesn't care what Maverick thinks or if he changed or if he wants something from Bradley.

He still turns around when he's shot down. It's not like he's got someone to come back to anyway. Not because he cares about Maverick.

"I'm not you," Bradley tells Mav. "I don't leave people behind."

The admittance - that he knows and remembers Mav and wants nothing to do with him, wants to be nothing like him - works. They survive and Bradley doesn't see Maverick again, not when they're in the med bay, not when they're in the hospital in San Diego, not when he gets discharged.

He sees Jake instead, waiting on him at the reception of the unit he had been on, patiently waiting for Bradley to sign his discharge papers without using his broken wrist.

"What, do you have someone else to take your broken ass home?"

In truth, Bradley was just going to take a taxi. Instead, Jake takes the plastic bag with Bradley's clothes and silently leads them to his truck before he asks for Bradley's address.

And in all this mess, the first thing Jake asks him is, "Are you going to stay in San Diego?" because they have the offer to stay there and make their place in Top Gun-adjacent brand new squadron.

"No, I'm going to go back to my base," Bradley tells him. There's nothing for him San Diego, but there's plenty for Jake and he doesn't want to be a barrier.

"I think you should stay in San Diego. With me."

He wishes it was that simple but the truth is, Bradley is still the same.

"I can't be the person you want to have in your life."

"But you already are the person I want in my life."

"I think this is going to end up badly."

"Only if you let it."

Bradley's never really could say no to Jake.

It all seems so easy, when he falls asleep on Jake's shoulder watching Top Gear, but at some point, Bradley knows, they will get to the point when it'll all crush again.

There is also the whole thing with Maverick, their now CO, who appears to be some kind of ashamed now that he finally knows that Bradley remembers what he did - or rather what he didn't do. He avoids Bradley like the plague and it seems to be affecting the squad - because they all love Maverick and Bradley is the weirdo who can't have fun or be friendly. He's just waiting on someone to call him out as the party pooper contrasting to their fun CO and deem the problem, as always, just because he can't pretend to be happy to be around him.

Jake hasn't said anything about the Maverick thing explicitly but he gives Bradley those looks whenever Maverick is nearby and sometimes he makes those quips

[dock57]

[Another day, another Monkey Wrench ramble! Decided to go back to EP 2 again this time. Despite being one of the shorter episodes, it has some of my favorite moments between Shrike and Beebs.

Anyway, the thing I want to talk about today is the some of the world building to the Monkey Wrench universe. In general, Monkey Wrench has such an awesome world building to it. Its very open, but has some rules and expectations it follows.

One of my favorite things about this world? The idea of every Alien having a translator. Its such a simple thing to include, but when you start digging into it- it can say a bit about the character.

It took a few rewatches, but the idea that you can have a translator either internal or external? I just thought that was such a cool idea. I think most sci-fi concepts when it comes to different languages, either they already know and understand the alien, there is no language barrier, or if there is a translator, its usually another device or someone else doing it.

The idea that everyone has one, either internal or external, its such a simple but clever idea for not needing to fuss over the issue about language differences. Besides, where a galaxy has different languages, could be hundreds- thousands? Trying to learn them all would. Take more than a lifetime...

How nice would it be to just have one install and do all the hard work for you? I especially love the idea of just having an internal one installed- so you would not have to worry about it being damaged from the outside, or well, being in the way? Like when looking at Beebs, his translator is large. A nice size of equipment to keep maintained and not as compacted. Like think about how small computers can be compared to their first designs? Smaller and more compact always feel so much more manageable.

As I said before, I think even translator and what a character has can say about a character too. Especially this scene from EP 2. Beeb's personality and overall design, has this impression that Beebs' is well, a much simpler type of guy. He does not seem like the type to update anything unless, it really comes to the point it might need to be replaced. His translator and cybernetic arm are examples of this, why fix something if its not broke?

I also find that translators can tell about someone's wealth as well. As I believe that internal models are more expensive than external ones. It could be possible that Beebs' has an older model as well, but as Shrike also mentions, Beebs was also stingy getting a new one, which once again, adds to how Beebs tends to hold onto materials until broken, plus, coming off as a more simple guy- I don't believe Beebs enjoys complicated tech. He even has his acoustic guitar, free from technology itself to keep it simple and free from having difficult technical problems, unlike the Bucket itself or his cybernetic arm. Being stingy can also suggest that Beebs is looking out for his savings. As that not wanting to upgrade or wanting a internal translator to save on pixels. Although translators seems like to be a pretty important thing to have in this world, as it seems like everyone does have one, even when it comes to purchasing one, you also need to think what is affordable and works best for you. In Beebs' eyes, you don't need the newest one to have this function, just one to do its job which is enough.

I see in this world, that Translators can be use as a sign of wealth, where internal are more expensive and external ones are not. As for Shrike, who is definitely not a wealthy Alien by no means... He may have made the decision to get an internal one as a possible poor financial decision, as Shrike is clearly not responsible when it comes to money. He may have one to just have it and follow the trend of others- or he may have got his from L.A.W. as well as it could have been a requirement for L.A.W. members to have one, or a benefit of being a L.A.W. officer.

Whatever the case with Translators in this world, it is definitely has been something I been noticing more and more on characters in the show, major, minor or even background characters. The more I keep watching Monkey Wrench, the more I pick up on the world build and the little pieces, such as the translator, to build how its universe's function.]

[renthony]

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[andhumanslovedstories]

To the extent you feel comfortable sharing ofc - why do you need a mouth reconstruction? Is that something dental insurance doesn't cover?

Best of luck for your recovery <3

I have a combination of very weak enamel and furious teeth grinding. The combination meant that my teeth were sheered down until the enamel was gone. I was down to just the dentin underneath, which means my teeth were only going to start eroding faster. Multiple dental providers were saying that I was on track for dentures by fifty. I was super cold sensitive on one side, and I had a tooth pulled on the other side due to a botched root canal, which meant there was no way to comfortably chew many types of food. It was affecting what I’d choose to eat, and buddy I do NOT need more obstacles to eating. And just aesthetics-wise, my teeth’s appearance didn’t bother me enough to pay this much just for them to look better, but I didn’t love that they were permanently yellow and that my face was losing height due to how small my teeth were.

(I’m convinced my prosthedontist and my dental surgeon were both more bothered by the aesthetics of my mouth than I was. My surgeon literally said, “I bet you were pretty insecure about your teeth before this, right?” And I was like “ummmm not really?“ and he was like “really? I mean good! But please understand they look so much better.”)

So I got gum surgery and a base for a dental implant installed several months ago, and now I’ve got temporary crowns in which are actually these connected blocks of teeth that I need special floss to take care of.

They’re So Big and So White.

And tomorrow I get my permanent crowns which should look and feel like real teeth! And then after that I get fitted for a mouthguard to prevent me from wearing the new ones down to nubs as well. (You can use an over the counter mouth guard for grinding, which is what I was using while I was buying time to get my teeth fixed. I’m getting in custom fit in the hopes my jaw will be less sore when I wake up. Any mouthguard is better than no mouth guard if you’re a grinder though, trust me. Save yourself the enamel and the money.)

Speaking of money, I’ll be super blunt: in total, I paid about $8000 for the gum surgery and implant, and $36000 for almost entire mouth of new crowns (I’ve only got two original teeth left). Insurance covered a little over half the surgery fees and like $2k of the crowns. (My insurance will pay for up to 50% of the price of a crown every two years, and I need about twenty crowns all at once, so. Yeah.) I investigated going to Mexico or Canada to get the work done, but ultimately my dental situation is complicated enough to require coordination of multiple providers and regular check ups over many months. It was going to be to complicated to arrange that internationally, plus travel and lodgings, to be worth the diminishing amount of money I would save. I do think I could have gotten all this work done for cheaper, but I’m not sure if it actually would have been something I followed through on. And basically, the sooner I get this work done, the better in terms of face shape and teeth migration and all that, so I was like “fuck it let’s go,” so here we are. In twenty-four hours, I’ll have a brand new mouth.

[ms-demeanor]

got a question I was hoping you could answer!

why do all apps have to go through an app store? why doesn't anywhere have their app downloadable from the internet or something?

was wondering this because lots of issues with apps seem to stem from having to comply with app store guidelines and whatnot. So why not avoid that problem and make the app available off the appstore? And if part of it is because they're easier to find in the appstore, why not do both? why not also offer the download on a website or something?

there's gotta be some reason why there's afaik no one who offers a download for their app without the appstore right?

There are absolutely other ways to get apps, and the one that springs immediately to mind is the F-Droid App Repository.

Sideloading is the process of loading an app that doesn't come from your phone's OS-approved app store. It's really easy on Android (basically just a couple of clicks) but requires jailbreaking on an iphone.

The reason more USERS don't sideload apps is risk: app stores put apps through at least nominal security checks to ensure that they aren't hosting malware. If you get an app from the app store that is malware, you can report it and it will get taken down, but nobody is forcing some random developer who developed his own app to remove it from his site if it installs malware on your phone unless you get law enforcement involved.

The reason more developers don't go outside of the app store or don't WANT to go outside of the app store is money. The number of users who are going to sideload apps is *tiny* compared to the number of users who will go through the app store; that makes a HUGE difference in terms of income, so most developers try to keep it app-store friendly. Like, if tumblr were to say "fuck the app store" and just release their own app that you could download from the sidebar a few things would happen:

Downloads would drop to a fraction of their prior numbers instantly

iOS users would largely be locked out of using tumblr unless they fuck with their phones in a way that violates Apple's TOS and could get them booted out of their iOS ecosystem if they piss off the wrong people.

Ad revenue would collapse because not a lot of advertisers want to work with companies that are app-store unfriendly

They'd be kicked off of the main app marketplaces

So most people who develop apps don't want to put the time and effort and money into developing an app that people might not pay for that then also can't carry ads.

Which leads into another issue: the kind of people who generally make and use sideloaded app aren't the kind of people who generally like profit-driven models. Indie apps are often slow to update and have minimal support because you're usually dealing with a tiny team of creators with a userbase of people who can almost certainly name ten flavors of Linux and are thus expected to troubleshoot and solve their own problems.

If this is the kind of thing you want to try, have at it. I'd recommend sticking to apps from the F-Droid Repository linked up above and being judicious about what you install. If you're using apple and would have to jailbreak your phone to get a non-approved app on it, I'd recommend switching to another type of phone.

(For the record, you also aren't limited to android or ios as the operating system of your phone; there are linux-based OSs out there and weird mutations of android and such - I am not really a phone person so I can't tell you much about them, but they are out there!)

[heartseungs-archive]

written in ink | n.jm

genre ➳  historical au (early 19th century), fluff, angst, strangers to lovers

pairings ➳ professor!jaemin x fem!reader (ningning and karina are mentioned)

word count ➳ 15.3k 

warnings ➳ mentions of alcohol, mental illnesses and disorders

info ➳  second installment of batc! surprisingly, this was the one i started writing first, but it took a while to figure out how i wanted to end it. click here to read the other works :)

The oak doors of the Provost’s office are no less intimidating than they were five years ago, towering over any students who find themselves bold enough to meet him.

Even now, Jaemin finds himself swallowing nervously before knocking, even if he is the university equivalent of a teacher’s pet. This meeting would determine everything for his future classes and his research funding. Psychology already had little backing compared to the other departments - Jaemin refused to let it languish away under him.

“Ah. Professor Na. Sit down, please.” The leather armchair is comfortable, and costs much more than the one he has in his office - the benefits of being the Provost reach far and wide, Jaemin supposes, even to the furniture.

“I called you today for something important. As you know, our university has a limited number of scholarships available for the faculty each year.”

Jaemin feels eagerness rise up at the thought of being one of the few professors selected to receive the scholarship in mention, which would provide money - plenty of it. He’s young, though, and the odds are not in his favour when measured up against the eminent figures who have been here for decades.

Still, Jaemin hopes that graduating with first-class honours and being the youngest professor in the history of the university counts for something.

“I do have good news. And bad.” Jaemin doesn’t like the sound of that. He knows the alteration of language is meant to soften a certain blow or some demand that will be required of him. The drumming of Mr Lee’s fingers indicates nervousness, and so does the number of times he’s cleared his throat.

After all, Jaemin is no stranger to the study of human behaviour. He waits, because there is nothing that Jaemin can do now other than listening.

“The admission board looks favourably upon you and wishes to give you the scholarship.” Jaemin waits a little longer.

“However, -” There it is.

“Due to your age, we understand that you have not yet had a full-length research project completed. However, it is a provision under the scholarship.”

Jaemin looks at Mr Lee questioningly. Both men in this room know that full-length research projects take at least half a decade, and Jaemin has barely been teaching for two years. He finds the irony of it amusing: without the scholarship, Jaemin does not have the funds to complete his research. Yet, he cannot get the scholarship in mention without his sixty-page paper.

“You’re doing well in your career, Professor Na, and there’s always the next cycle of scholarships. A little bit more waiting, I’m afraid, but waiting comes with an academic career.”

Jaemin knows that he has time. More of it than others, in fact. But the ambition in him refuses to die down, to keep sailing on this high in his career and see how far he can reach before he falls. Modern Icarus, he presumes, the sun replaced by his name in publications and award ceremonies.

“When’s the deadline for the research paper?” Mr Lee evidently does not expect Jaemin to actually take interest in the offer, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Counting today, a little over a year. But-”

“I’ll do it. I would appreciate it if you submitted my name for confirmation, Mr Lee.”

Despite the doubt on his face, Mr Lee nods, showing his agreement. Before Jaemin can regret his statement, he stands up from the comfortable armchair and leaves the room.

“Na Jaemin, you’re insane. Absolutely, utterly insane. Studying psychology has turned you mad.”

“Shut up, Lee Donghyuck.” The boy in question is stretched out on a chaise, leather shoes dangling off the end. In his waistcoat and rumpled dress shirt, Haechan is exactly who he looks to be: a debauched bachelor of high society, indulging in weekends of endless alcohol and dancing.

“He’s right.” Renjun speaks from the corner of the room, where he’s curled up in a chair near the fireplace. Jaemin looks to Jeno for support, but the man simply shrugs from where he’s standing at the doorway.

“You may be the brightest among the few of us, but even I know a year won’t be enough to complete it. Most definitely not by your standards.” Despite Jeno’s lack of support, he still knows him the best.

Jaemin could definitely half-ass a project for the scholarship-it would cut his work by a third, maybe even half. Yet, he would never be able to live with it.

“The line between genius and insanity is so fine. Sometimes I think Jaemin teeters so very close to the latter.”

“That’s your last warning, Donghyuck, before I take the red wine in your hands and pour it over your mother’s favourite carpet,” Jaemin snaps, levelling a sharp gaze at him.

Haechan sits up, a look of faux horror in his face. The jester may fear few things, but his mother’s wrath is one of them. The other being the occasional obsessive daughters of businessmen from the trail of women he leaves jilted.

Nevertheless, this is what makes up Jaemin’s days. If not busy in his office or teaching students, he spends his time with these three other men, who provide sufficient socialization to keep Jaemin from being deemed a social pariah by his overbearing mother. Childhood friends who he met from dinner parties, when their parents had sent them off in favour of gossip and hors d’oeuvres.

The scholarship money is paltry compared to the wealth of their four families combined, and the inheritance that Jaemin will receive eventually. His father would likely not hesitate to fund the project either, but the idea of using money that is not yet his leaves a sour taste in Jaemin’s mouth.

Maybe that’s why Jaemin still uses that broken armchair and forces himself to sleep in the cramped dorm room given to tenured professors - he’s always wanted to prove something. Whether to himself or to the superiors at university, he’s not entirely sure.

The clock strikes two, and the party outside shows no signs of ceasing. After all, it is the weekend, and everyone outside has too much time and money to spend.

”Well, I suppose it’s time for me to leave. I’ll see all of you next week.” The boys nod their farewells, and Jaemin takes his coat from the butler.

He narrowly avoids crashing into someone right as he turns the corner.

Jaemin pauses briefly to take in the appearance of the person before him. Your hair is tied in a chignon and decorated with a studded headband. In your hand, there is a glass of sparkling wine.

If anything, Jaemin thinks you look like the female version of Renjun. But Renjun’s sister is much, much younger.

Evidently, Jaemin’s silence has caused you to grow impatient, and you stride past quickly. Jaemin watches the agitation of your gait as you walk towards the room he had just left. Perhaps he was wrong about the sister part. You definitely fit the bill of a revengeful ex-lover.

“Lee Donghyuck, you owe me money. Hand it over, you cheat,” is the last thing Jaemin hears that night when he leaves the hallway.

Jaemin discovers exactly who you are two weeks later when you arrive in the form of three sharp knocks on his door.

“Come in.” It’s likely to be a student, he thinks, and Jaemin sighs because he’s told them countless times of the ever-present consultation schedule that they can fill in at the administrative office. Yet, every evening, there’s that one anxious student pacing outside his office, hoping for some morsel of knowledge before the final exams come around.

His friends aren’t known to be the type to knock either, unless for some sort of prank. The long day is wearing on him much more than expected, and he silently hopes the session will be brief.

However, Jaemin’s pretty sure you’re not a student. One, because he’s a good professor who makes an effort to know all his students. Second, he’s pretty sure none of the female students go around campus in cocktail dresses.

“You’re Jaemin, aren’t you? Donghyuck’s friend.”

“That would be me. Any reason you’re in my office at eight on a Friday evening?” Jaemin tries not to show surprise at your knowledge of Haechan’s real name, the one he uses for close friends.

Whether Haechan’s prospective creditor or jilted lover, however, Jaemin has little interest to find out why you’ve extended his working hours.

“You need money. I have it, and I need you to do something for me in return.” Definitely a creditor, then. Perhaps this was your job. Lending money to noblemen, and charging exorbitantly high-interest rates. In your defence, it was a smart way to go about things.

But something caused Jaemin to pause. A creditor wouldn’t be the worst way to go, especially if he could pay you after the scholarship funding had come in.

“What’s the interest rate?” This time, it’s your turn to look confused, before realization settles in. Compared to your imperious demeanour from the previous time, you look almost sheepish.

“I’m not a moneylender. Haechan just needed funds to buy something for a friend. Honestly, this deal is more for me than it is for you.”

Jaemin continues looking at you, motivating you to explain.

“I’ll fund the research, and help you with it. In return, I want to be able to attend on-campus lectures. And I want my name as an assistant author on the publication.”

“So this is a bribe?”

“Not a bribe. Think of me as an investor. I contribute, and in return, I get a stake in the research.”

“You’d be better off in the Business faculty then. The applications for enrolment open in December this year. ”

“You know every woman the officers admit to this university is done only to the bare minimum to fill those statistics. I’ve been trying for the past three years. I can show you my applications.” The desperation in your voice fills Jaemin with a sense of shame somehow - he, star student and youngest professor. Would his life have been different if he was you?

Jaemin’s well-aware of the discriminatory policies employed by the admissions department - it doesn’t help that most of them are elderly men who remain rooted in the old traditions.

Jaemin hasn’t seen a female Psychology student before, because the only degrees truly open to them are in education and nursing. Essentially, you’re contracting him as a tutor, besides the partnership on the research.

He looks at your attire, and it makes sense to him now - you must be a weekly attendee of Donghyuck’s raucous parties. He grabs his coat, and you move, as if almost to physically stop him from leaving until he agrees to your demands.

“I’m willing to allow you to attend lectures for free. However, I’m unaware of your qualifications, even if you’re Donghyuck’s friend. Send me your applications, and I’ll think about it.” You look surprised at his agreement, and even Jaemin is - he’s not one to entertain many demands, and he works better alone on research. He shouldn’t even be considering it, and yet.

You smile gratefully at him, just as the clock ticks half past eight. “Oh, I’m running late. Here are the applications, and other information. I do have to leave now, but my mail address is in the file. Thank you so much, Jae- Professor Na.” You stumble over his name, but before Jaemin can react, your purse is in your hand and your coat over your arm.  The door closes with a final resounding thud, leaving the room silent once again. The quiet now feels empty, and Jaemin glances towards the coffee table you had just been at a few seconds ago.

You came prepared, obvious in the way the bundle of papers are neatly arranged in a file and labelled. Jaemin picks it up, only to be greeted by a picture of your profile. You look much younger in the photo, still starry-eyed with excitement. L/N Y/N, twenty-one years of age.

He wonders whether the repeated rejections from the university admissions dulled it, instead replacing the excitement with steely conviction. He must have been a last resort of sorts, a lucky strike in the dark at pursuing your aspirations before they fizzled out completely. Jaemin can imagine the officers receiving your file and pushing it back to the return address unopened, explaining the pristine condition.

Maybe he doesn’t owe it to you to look through, but Jaemin feels like he does. A glance at the clock, and Jaemin rubs his eyes tiredly. It seems his working hours will be extended, after all.

You’ve never been very good at billiards.

You’re not sure why Renjun requested it instead of cards, considering the both of you make a good team against Donghyuck and Jeno. Now, however, you are losing terribly, and the debt Donghyuck owes you is slowly dwindling.

With him, however, it’s always one person owing the other. You’ll simply have to beat him in bridge later. Renjun makes eye contact with you, and you shrug. The victor is obvious, and it can be seen with every teasing lilt of Donghyuck’s voice.

Jeno can only smile silently as he scores, but you think that might be worse. The black ball rolls to the corner of the table and drops in, with Donghyuck letting out a cheer.

Just then, Donghyuck glances at his wrist. Decorated with a flashy Patek Philippe, it’s both annoyingly ostentatious and eye-catching. A perfect fit for the owner, you suppose.

”Well then, I suppose it’s time for me to leave. Y/N, you owe me six thousand now. I also accept payment in the form of wine, though six thousand won’t be nearly enough for a good bottle.”

Your brows lower in a frown. “Aren’t you staying for bridge?”

“And lose ten thousand dollars to you? No thank you. Jeno can do it if he wants.” Donghyuck smiles sweetly before exiting the room, and you’re half tempted to chase after him.

“Don’t bother. He’s off to find the love of his life.” Renjun says offhandedly.

“You mean the love of the week, Renjun.”

Jeno shakes his head, and you look at him curiously. “They’re not in a relationship. It’s his best friend. Every week, at twelve, he’s off.”

For someone like Donghyuck, who chooses when time moves and when it doesn’t, the punctuality is pleasantly surprising. You think back to the way he started to get slightly more jumpy and nervous as the clock ticked nearer, and a fond smile finds its way onto your face.

He must really be happy. You briefly wonder what it’s like, to look forward to the sight of someone so earnestly.

Then, your mind gets drawn back to the present. “We need four people for bridge. I can try calling Jisung, but he might be busy.” Renjun says.

“I’ll go get some more champagne. Anything else you guys want?” Renjun and Jeno shake their heads, and you prepare yourself to confront the din of the ballroom. From a corner, the string instruments of the band carry across the high ceilings, and couples dance in circles. There are at least a hundred, maybe even more. You suppose that’s why there are parties every weekend. Renjun’s huge estate would feel much too empty with just him and the occasional visitor.

You’re too busy admiring the lacquered walls and mahogany detailing, that it’s too late when you realise you’ve bumped into someone. You gasp, mainly because you’re shocked, but also because the champagne in your hands has ended up on the floor.

And on Jaemin’s clothes, unfortunately.

“I am so sorry,” you stutter out, but you’re at a loss even as the servants rush over and clean up the mess you’ve made. However good a partnership you’ve offered him, you’re quite sure it’s all gone now. You definitely wouldn’t offer someone the same mercies, especially if they spilt champagne all over you out of their own idiocy.

Yet, Jaemin breaks into a radiant smile. “It’s alright.” He says, and you’re not sure what to believe. Perhaps he’s maintaining politeness, especially in a room with so many eyes.

“No, wait. Please let me pay for the suit. It must be expensive.” Judging by the look of the fabric and the way it’s tailored to Jaemin’s figure, it will cost a pretty penny to compensate. Jaemin shakes his head, shrugging off the now-damp jacket and passing it to a butler who immediately heads down the hallway. This is Renjun’s house, after all, and Jaemin is a familiar face to the staff.  The jacket will be laundered promptly and delivered to his house before the week is over.

“It’s genuinely alright, Miss L/N. I came to find you, so this is just as well.” A sense of resignation overtakes you. No wonder Jaemin’s being so kindly. He must be here to reject your offer of a partnership. You’re glad he agreed to the lectures, but the thought of having to see him afterwards during lessons feels mortifying.

The short conversation with Jaemin in his office was much more revealing than you had hoped. You must have looked desperate, and maybe that’s why he took pity on you.

However, you refuse for that to be the only impression he has of you, and instead paste a smile on your face.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter, then.”

The chilly night air is welcoming, and you’re glad you wore a longer dress tonight. On this balcony, you can see the entire expanse of Renjun’s family estate. He’s always been the proudest of the gardens, and rightfully so- an endless expanse of green stretches out, decorated by carefully maintained flora. In the far distance lies his personal arboretum and workroom, where he does most of his painting.

“Mr Na, if you’re here to tell me bad news, now seems like a poor time. Monday would be much more fitting.” A low laugh cuts through the hushed atmosphere, and you almost feel proud.

“Then I am glad that this is good news.” Your sharp intake of breath can be heard on the silent balcony, and you peer at him, willing him to continue.

“I read your applications. And your essays. It was surprising. The quality…the insights made…you’re leagues ahead of my best students and most of the peers I had. And…”

The compliment settles down into you, a kernel of warmth despite the low temperature. You incline your head in thanks. “And?”

Jaemin looks hesitant of his actions, and you can tell he’s thinking very hard about how to word something. One second passes, and then two.

“I think I could benefit from having your contributions to the research.”

There is complete silence for a moment, and then you huff out a laugh. However, it comes out more as a relieved sigh.

He agreed. Na Jaemin, the top student on the honor roll and the youngest Psychology professor in the history of the university, has agreed to take you on as a partner in his research.

For some strange reason, his approval means so much more than anything the interview officers could have said to you. Even if they had accepted your application, it would be nothing compared to what Jaemin has just told you.

The corners of Jaemin’s mouth rise up slightly, and you’re sure he can see the happiness on your face.

“Looking forward to working with you, Miss Y/N L/N.” Jaemin’s palm is warm against yours as he shakes your hand, and you can’t help the sense of hope that fills you.

“Just Y/N is fine.” You’re determined not to disappoint him, to show that you were worth the chance.

“Please address me as Jaemin as well, then. The first lecture is at nine on Monday. It’s quite late, so I’ll leave you to enjoy the party. We can discuss the specifics after.”

Just as he is about to leave, however, a thought comes into your head, and a grin inevitably makes its way onto your face.

“Jaemin!” You call, and he turns around. The name flows nicely, and it’s easy for you to say, almost familiar. Under the chandelier, his eyes sparkle brightly, even as hints of fatigue creep at the sides.

“How good of a hand are you at bridge?”

“Metempsychosis. Can anyone tell me what that means?” Immediately, multiple hands are raised, and Jaemin looks at the students appraisingly.

He tries not to let his gaze drift to the corner of the room where a woman is seated, fountain pen in hand. Your entrance into the room had drawn plenty of eyes in the morning - the Psychology department had never seen a female student before, and the confident uptilt of your head only served to further emphasise that.

Fortunately enough, university students were one of the most self-contained populations to be found. They asked few questions about others and more about themselves, which meant there wasn’t the danger of news of your presence getting around to the admission officers. Not that they would have cared much - after all, security wasn’t particularly strict on the campus.

Jaemin points to a boy with curled black hair, signalling him to reply.

“The transmigration of the soul. Reincarnation after death, essentially.” Jaemin nods. “Very good. I know the majority of us here likely don’t believe in reincarnation, but Plato did, and that’s why we’re here now.” This draws a few laughs from his audience, and Jaemin smiles.

“However, we aren’t here to discuss life after death. I want you to think about the soul. What is it, in relation to the body? Where does its importance lie?” The hall falls silent, and Jaemin sees students flipping through their notes, as if hoping an answer will descend from the sky.

This time, his gaze falls on you and your raised hand. “Y/N. Would you like to contribute?” Jaemin’s equal parts torn between diminishing your presence to prevent unnecessary attention, and the desire to hear your opinion.

To you, Jaemin’s piercing gaze is unnerving, even from far away. It almost makes you doubt your answers. Pull yourself together, Y/N.

“The soul is the source of our life and mind. Our body is nothing more than a physical vessel of flesh. Our soul makes us human.“ You had done an essay analysing Phaedo the previous season, and its core arguments remained clear in your head.

“A classic argument by Socrates. What makes up a soul, then?” Jaemin smiles slightly, and you recall. He’s read your essay, and he knows your exact thoughts. Does he wish for you to share it with the class?

The students are staring at you now, slightly more intrigued.

“The tripartite soul theory. Our physical desires, intangible passions, and our need for truth. More simply put, what we want, what we love, and what we think,” you state, eyes fixed on Jaemin’s expression. His barely-there grin turns much more obvious, and it makes you feel pleased with yourself.

“Very well said. The link between psychology and philosophy is much closer than many of us think, despite one being a science and the other an art. That brings me to the assigned readings for this week, which will delve more into the tripartite soul theory that Y/N mentioned, among others. I’ll see everyone next week.”

The students shuffle out of the lecture hall, nodding at Jaemin in greeting as they leave. Many of them look at him with barely-concealed admiration, despite only being a few years younger. It almost makes you envious.

“That was…a good lecture. I enjoyed it.” Your compliment comes out hesitantly, but you mean it sincerely. Jaemin’s a much better presenter than you imagined, and you found yourself laughing at his well-placed quips more often than you didn’t. The students are lucky to have a lecturer like him, compared to the grumpy, stone-faced ones the university is so well-known for.

“Thank you. I would offer for you to be my teaching assistant, but it would be better not to push our luck for now. I trust my students, but not too much. Shall we head to my office?”

You follow Jaemin down the winding halls of the faculty building, the sunlight streaming in through the arched windows. When you reach his office, your face is slightly red, and Jaemin notices it.

“Sorry. My office is a little far from the lecture hall. Also, I tend to walk a bit faster when I’m alone,” Jaemin apologises, and you shake your head. It’s not entirely his fault that he’s almost a head taller than you, and one step of his is twice of yours.

However, you’re grateful for the cold glass of water that he passes to you. Jaemin clears his throat, causing you to glance at him.

“Here’s what I have so far. Take a look, and tell me what you think.” The file is heavy in your hands, and Jaemin’s signature scrawl can be seen on the first page.

The title causes you to let out an incredulous laugh. Jaemin arches an eyebrow, almost concerned, and you realise he may have taken the laughter the wrong way. “Is it very surprising?”

“No, not at all,” you rush to clarify. “I just…can’t believe that someone would actually want to research into the exact same field.”

It’s bizarre, really, considering how much you thought your ideas would be scorned. The idea of cognitive function being a scientific field of study isn’t yet accepted by many, and would be unlikely to gain any sponsorship.

You had expected Jaemin to propose studies into behavioural psychology. Pavlov’s dogs and conditioning. It was soaring in popularity within academic circles, and seemed to be the only research done these days. Yet, each of the experiments conducted seemed to become crueller in nature, aimed at publications to shock the public. That was where the money was, after all.

Jaemin feels a sense of relief at your words. His nervousness was unnecessary, after all. When he had first compiled the file, he wasn’t sure how you would respond. After all, cognitive psychology had barely been recognized as a legitimate field of study. Perhaps you would think he was dragging you down with him.

“Memory and perception. They differ from person to person, and I want to find out why,” Jaemin states, and you nod, barely able to contain your excitement.

‘We’ll have to plan out the methodology, of course. There was a report published about long and short-term memory by an American doctor. Of course, it’s not entirely verified, but I think it’ll be of great help.”

Jaemin watches as you stride across the room, throwing ideas out whenever they come to mind, with a faint smile lingering on his face. Each one of them is written down carefully in his notebook to ponder over later, once you leave.

“And I was thinking, maybe if we- oh, I got carried away.” Your rapid footsteps pause and you feel your face turning red. Jaemin, polite as ever, had been listening to your rambling without interruption.

“It’s quite alright, Y/N. I genuinely enjoy listening to your ideas. Please don’t hesitate to share them.” You can tell Jaemin is being earnest from the way he looks at you, pen in his hand. The feeling of having someone listen to you and value your contributions feels slightly foreign, but the feeling it brings is definitely one of happiness.

By the time the both of you are done with a tentative outline, the sun is close to approaching the horizon, and you rub your eyes blearily.

“I think we’re done for today,” you barely hold back a yawn as you say it, and Jaemin tries not to laugh at your appearance.

“We’re running on quite a tight timeline, but I think we’ll make it. Would meeting four times a week be alright with you?” Jaemin asks, and he allows you a few seconds to consider.

“That works. I’ll see you on Thursday, then. Have a good evening, Jaemin.” As you leave, you wonder what time Jaemin will finish his work. The last time, he had come to the party after midnight.

Na Jaemin intrigues you at every turn, and you wonder what you will discover about him next.

“Where were you today?”

The tune you’re humming under your breath quickly stills to a halt, and you almost trip over the marble floor of your hallway. Looking at the ceiling, you curse your luck. Of all the days that your father had to be home early, it had to be today.

“I was with a friend,” your voice comes out shaky, and you hate yourself for it. Turning around, you steel your nerves for his interrogatory glare.

“Are you messing around with that stupid boy again? Donghyuck?” Your father’s tone is accusatory, and his disapproval of Donghyuck is evident. Donghyuck’s parties are the talk of the neighbourhood, often for bad reasons among the older generation, and good among your peers. it definitely doesn’t help that you can often hear the commotion, considering his estate is less than two miles down.

“I wasn’t with Donghyuck today, for a matter of fact. And he isn’t stupid,” you defend. Donghyuck may be brash, and playful, but he is your friend.

“That boy is a good-for-nothing and will drink himself to death one day. You’re a proper lady and should act like it. Stop going to his parties, and stay at home.”

“And what? Stare at the pretty wallpaper until I’m driven to insanity out of boredom?” You bite back, glaring at your father. He’s never been particularly supportive of your attempt to obtain a degree and proper employment, still stuck in the yesteryears of his childhood.

“You foolish girl. You’ll realise it when your reputation is ruined.” Your father’s voice is full of venom, and you try not to flinch at his harsh words. Instead, you stride resolutely down the hallway and close your bedroom door with a harsh bang.

Fatigue overtakes you properly now, combined with emotional exhaustion. When you’re sure you’re alone, you allow your shoulders to droop slightly, shrugging off your coat. The quiet night air provides a source of comfort as you settle onto the ottoman at the foot of your bed. You’re not sure when it became like this. When your home became an unfamiliar place and your family turned hostile. Your mother is sweet to you, but she is also docile to your father, which you supposed has worsened it so much more.

That night, you lie down in your bed, turning Jaemin’s words over and over in your head, almost as if you’ll discover a new meaning behind them. They soften the harsh blow of your father,  acting as a balm against the invisible bruises of his words.

Teaching assistant.

The idea seems almost impossible to you, and yet. A job doing what you loved, and having the time to do your own research, undisturbed. An official position that would make sure no one could question what you were doing at the university.

And Jaemin. Having him as a colleague would be enjoyable, to say the least. He made a good partner. Maybe if you were patient enough, you could even become an associate professor.

You didn’t dare to verbalize that thought, for it felt a bit too out of reach. For now, at least.

“We’ll have the salmon filet and the beef rib as well, thank you. And three glasses of Chardonnay.” The waiter nods, taking the menus off the table.

“Wait, Renjun, Jeno, look,” Donghyuck points across the street, outside the window of the restaurant.

Across the street is you, in a light pink dress, and what looks to be a stack of books. Next to you is a man whose back looks awfully familiar to Donghyuck, and he can’t place it exactly. Until he gasps dramatically.

“That traitor. He said he wasn’t available for dinner today. But he’s out with Y/N. What the hell are they doing together?” Donghyuck’s pretty sure the both of you aren’t acquainted, and he’s not sure what exactly to make of it. There aren’t many explanations for the both of you to be seen alone with each other, unless…

“Oh, they met a while ago. Jeno and I played bridge against the both of them,” Renjun casually drops this piece of information, and Donghyuck stares at him. This must have happened after he had left.

The wine is served, but Donghyuck doesn’t take a single sip. Instead, he watches very carefully. The moment he sees you leave the store, Jaemin quickly takes over half the books from your hands. You walk on the inside of the pavement, Jaemin at your side.

A knowing smile appears on Donghyuck’s face as he watches the both of you approach the exact same restaurant where he is seated in.

“You look a little creepy, Donghyuck. Stop it,” Jeno mutters, as he sees Haechan’s face.

“I have a very good idea. But I need the both of you to help.”

Renjun looks over at Donghyuck suspiciously, and with valid reason. He’s not entirely sure what Haechan has planned, and whether it’ll turn out well or an absolute disaster. “What is it?” Renjun asks.

“I’ll tell you guys later. Jaemin! Y/N! Over here!” Haechan shouts as the both of you near his table. The familiar baritone of Donghyuck’s voice rings out across the restaurant, and you turn to him, immediately making your way over.

While you’re engrossed in talking to Renjun, Haechan meets Jaemin’s eyes. Liar, he mouths across the table, and Jaemin simply rolls his eyes.

“What are those books for?” Jeno does the task of asking the question on Donghyuck’s mind.

“Oh. Well…” You cast a glance at Jaemin, not entirely sure what to say. You’re not sure how much he wants to divulge to the three of them about the project, considering it isn’t exactly the most conventional arrangement.

“Y/N’s working with me as an assistant researcher and author. It’ll be a joint publication.”

Renjun hums quietly under his breath, taking in the information. “Y/N, are you sure you want to work with this guy? He doesn’t understand the concept of working hours.”

“Jaemin’s a great colleague, actually. I almost feel bad for not working as hard as him, considering he still has to teach.” You’re quick to speak for Jaemin, and it makes him light up visibly.

Jeno watches as Donghyuck’s grin gets inevitably wider the more he watches the both of you interact, and he realises that the boy has found a new occupation of interest: matchmaking.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Y/N,” Jaemin mutters under his breath, soft enough for you to hear but not the other three men at the table. He knows that he’ll definitely be the subject of Donghyuck’s incessant questions and meddling, but he rather it be later than sooner.

For now, he is content with watching as you crack jokes with Renjun and make Donghyuck the subject of said mockery. While your confidence in front of his students is admirable, you become witty and lively in the comfort of people familiar to you, and Jaemin finds himself enjoying the sight more than expected.

The street is still busy despite the late hour when the five of you finally finish dinner. Your feet are starting to ache from the stiff satin heels that you’ve been walking in all day, and the heavy, leather-bound books only serve to make it worse. Donghyuck hails two cabs, one for the three of them and another for you and Jaemin.

“Night out?” The driver asks once both of you are settled in, flashing a friendly smile. There is white hair creeping at the edges of his beard, and two sun-weathered hands gripping the steering wheel.

Both Jaemin and you nod, and you decide to look out the window, watching as the scenery outside changes from the city centre to the suburbs.

“You know, you really didn’t have to come with me today to get the manuals. I could have saved you the hassle,” Jaemin says, and you turn to him. In the dim glow of the streetlights, his profile is shrouded by shadows, his features somehow softened.

“It really wasn’t an issue. Besides, you spoke so fondly of that bookstore, and I can see why now.”

“They have one of the biggest collections on psychology, and the most frequently updated too. Though the medicine and history shelves are also very extensive.”

“It’s a pity we were short of time today, then. Maybe next time you can show me around,” you suggest, and Jaemin nods his assent. It almost feels like a promise.

Somewhere along the way, the jam-packed buildings turn into carefully manicured garden hedges, and the driver goes up the familiar winding path leading to your home.

Jaemin alights from the taxi and is at your side much quicker than you can comprehend, opening the door for you. “I guess this is it. Good night, Jaemin,” you say, smiling up at him. He inclines his head slightly, passing you the books. You’ll have to finish reading most of them by next week, but instead of dread, you find yourself looking forward to the days you spend in Jaemin’s office working on the project.

Once back in the taxi, Jaemin watches as you disappear into the foyer of your house, books in hand. He only turns his head back once the lights of your family’s estate fade away.

“Your sweetheart?” The driver’s voice jolts Jaemin out of his reverie. It is a perfectly innocent question, and yet catches him off guard. Jaemin vehemently shakes his head. “Just a colleague.” He sees the driver smile in the rearview, and Jaemin thinks it reminds him awfully of Haechan’s grin.

“The both of you would make a handsome couple,” he comments, and Jaemin chooses to remain silent. Objectively, Jaemin does find you beautiful. Any person with two working eyes could likely deduce that. But he’s barely known you for two months, and worked with you for even less. The idea of developing feelings for you, or anyone for that matter, seems like a rather bizarre idea.

More than that, he admires you for your talent and the ideas you contribute during the many discussions. You’re not just a colleague and an assistant, but a friend whose presence Jaemin feels rather comfortable in, no less than the trio he so often sees. He can’t help but think that the project would have been unlikely to come to fruition without your help and that perhaps you, Y/N L/N, came at the exact right time.

“Now, what has been keeping our Y/N so occupied that she can barely meet us once a week?” Karina levels her gaze at you from above her cup, expecting an answer. You do feel slightly guilty to have cancelled on both her and Ningning repeatedly over the past few weeks, simply due to the fact that you had chosen to sleep in after burning the midnight oil.

“Employment. I’m not sure if the both of you have ever heard of it,” you remark drily, though you know it’s untrue. Despite what may seem to be lives of leisure, Karina and Ningning are two of the hardest-working people you know. One is a famous actress, the other running a leading fashion house.

“Did you finally get a job at the university?” Ningning asks, overjoyed on your behalf.

“Sorry to let you down, but it’s not yet permanent. I’m working as a research assistant for this one professor and attending lectures on campus.”

“Who’s the professor?” Karina is curious, and you’re sure she plans to do some poking around. After all, several of the elders in her family are long-standing alumnae of the university, and she knows most, if not all of the prominent faculty members. Except for your colleague, however.

“He’s quite young. Na Jaemin,” you mutter, already expecting her surprised gasp.

“You’re working with Na Jaemin? First-class honours student Na Jaemin? My grand-uncle kept waxing lyrical about him a few years ago. He’s rising so quickly through the ranks, they think he might just become Provost before the decade is over,” Karrina informs, and you can’t help but feel a sense of pride for the way she speaks about Jaemin. He would make a good Provost, you think. At least he wouldn't stop female students from being admitted, and definitely would not have been suspected of embezzling funds for personal use.

“Is he scary? Academics can get that way. I suspect most of them have a screw loose, actually.” Ningning interjects, and you look at her, amused. The previous winter, Ningning had been involved with a famous Arts professor from a rival university. Needless to say, the both of them had not ended on the best of terms.

“He’s very sweet, actually. Leagues ahead of the other stuffy old men at the university. He’s a great teacher too.”

“Is he good-looking?” Karina’s sly smile from behind her teacup causes you to narrow your eyes at her.

“Haven’t you met him before?” Karina’s a regular guest at many of the university's forums and seminars. Being the great-granddaughter of the university’s founder exempts her from the open disdain of the Provost towards members of the opposite sex, especially when she’s the one forking out his salary.

Karina had offered you an easy way in: one word from her, and you would be enrolled immediately. Still, it felt like admitting defeat in some way. You wanted to make a career in some way based on your own merit, and Jaemin provided a semblance of that.

“I’ve only seen him briefly. I don’t think he’s attended a single function this year. Maybe he’s antisocial?”

“Or just introverted,” Ningning mumbles, and you smile at her. Karina and yourself have always been the more outgoing ones of your trio, finding it easier to make conversation with total strangers. In fact, the both of you had been the ones to meet Ningning, before realising she had been a mutual acquaintance and solidifying the trio.

Still, you can’t say you’re surprised at the knowledge that Jaemin rarely attends any of the university’s gatherings for the faculty. After all, many of the men there are twice his age, and the atmosphere likely isn’t the most enjoyable. Which makes it even more impressive that his superiors hold in in such high regard, considering how everyone makes it their mission to make powerful connections in circles such as theirs.

“Answer my question, Y/N,” Karina says insistently, and you shrug. “He’s decent, I suppose. Most people would find him attractive.”

“So do you find him attractive?” Ningning is curious now too, almost leaning all the way forward. You make a face at both of them. “What’s up with the strange questions today?”

Karina grins, leaning back, and makes a pointed glance at Ningning. “Please don’t try to play matchmaker. We’re only colleagues. Besides, I doubt a relationship would be something Jaemin is remotely interested in, considering his hectic work,” you warn.

“She even took into account his work schedule. Not bad,” Ningning mutters, trying not to let out a laugh. You roll your eyes, deciding to indulge the both of them temporarily. Despite their teasing and love for meddling, you are sure that Karina and Ningning will not do anything without your knowledge.

Compared to both of them, there hasn’t been much space for romance in your life. Karina’s image was always plastered in the newspapers with whichever actor she was working with, while Ningning had her fair share of encounters with fellow designers and models. After all, you spent much of your time attempting to pursue your career, albeit rather unsuccessfully. While you enjoyed parties and balls, the men you met there were often uptight in the way that members of the gentry were. The ones that you found tolerable remained purely platonic. You think you would rather shoot yourself in the foot than ever be involved with Renjun, Jeno or Donghyuck.

Jaemin was…well, Jaemin. Professor extraordinaire, a brilliant student of psychology, and a friend whose presence you found more enjoyable each and every day. Karina and Ningning see your gradual drift into your own thoughts and remain silent, attempting to hide their grins behind their food.

They wonder if maybe, just maybe, you might have spoken too soon.

Another season passes, and winter is heralded by the bone-white landscape and empty, ghostly trees that make up the campus. Still, you find a strange sort of beauty in it, even if it lacks the warm tones of autumn.

It’s also much easier to appreciate the landscape when you are curled up in an armchair in Jaemin’s office, the fireplace burning brightly and a cup of hot chocolate in hand. Although small, his office is cosy and homely, with dark oak furnishings dotting the room and a plush white carpet in the middle of the room. Over the past half a year or so, his office has grown to be like a second home, considering how much time you spend in it. He’s even given you a space of your own, where your books and stationery are arranged neatly on a shelf.

You’ve grown accustomed to the sight of Jaemin sitting at his desk, fountain pen in hand. He’s often busy marking scripts, occasionally muttering to himself when the paper is exceptionally good, or disappointing. He lets out a noise of disgruntlement, and you glance up.

“Rough essay?” You ask, and Jaemin rubs his forehead, extending the papers in your direction.

“Take a look, and tell me what you think. I know this student is good, but I think they rushed this project. However, I don’t want to completely derail their academic grade and destroy a chance of a scholarship.”

Jaemin waits patiently while you read through the essay, watching as you furrow your eyebrows at certain parts, almost identical to him.

“So?” He asks once you pass the manuscript back to him, humming in thought.

“There’s definitely some obvious glaring flaws. But I don’t think you should discount their entire thought process.”

“But I asked for an essay that looked at the ethical issues concerning psychological research on humans. He stated that there weren’t any,” Jaemin says, now looking entirely confused.

You shrug. “But morality is subjective, isn’t it? Sure, there are common principles that people tend to follow, but what’s ethical in the eyes of a government may be different from the individual person. Is it alright to sacrifice a single person for the common good? Maybe not. But he can argue for it.”

Jaemin pauses then, his expression still frozen as he mulls over your words. Gradually, a grin makes its way onto his face, and you watch as he grabs the pen and scribbles on the manuscript before placing it on the stack that’s already done.

“Thank you, Y/N. I’m not sure what I would do without you.”

“I’m sure you could do plenty. But two minds are better than one, I suppose,” you say, smiling back. Jaemin leans back in his chair, resting his head on his hands. Compared to his usual stiff posture, it’s much more relaxed, and you find your shoulders not tensing as much anymore.

“Out of curiosity, what made you start Psychology?” Jaemin asks, and his eyes are genuine when he looks at you. You’re not entirely sure how to reply, considering no one’s ever asked you the question. Not the university admission officers, not your parents, not even your friends.

Only Jaemin.

“I’ll tell you a story, But you have to promise not to laugh,” you warn, and Jaemin nods.

“I had a very bad argument with a man in a bookstore over a certain literary text. Quite stupid, I know. Seventeen-year-old me was quite hot-headed. Out of the blue, he started arguing that I was wrong because the brain volume of a man was larger than that of a woman.”

Jaemin knows what you made him promise, but the corners of his lips are tugged up anyways. You glare at him. “You promised not to laugh!” He holds his hands up, shaking his head. “I swear, with full honesty, that you’re not the one I’m laughing at. It’s just an amusing story. So you took Psychology to prove him wrong?”

“Sort of. That was my motivation at first. But I think along the way, I just fell in love with the subject itself.” There’s a light in your eyes when you speak about it, and Jaemin can’t help but be drawn to you. You’re so passionate about what you do, and it reminds Jaemin of the starry-eyed first-year student that he was.

Along the way, he doubted whether he had even chosen the right thing to study. Had he been so caught up in chasing success that he lost his passion somewhere along the way?

But collaborating with you seems to light a new spark in Jaemin’s heart, where he finally has someone to share his ideas with. He’s never been able to learn so much from someone in so little time, and you’re capable. Even more than him, perhaps. Jaemin wonders if you know that.

“What about you, Jaemin?” Your question jolts him out of his thoughts, and Jaemin’s breath hitches. You take his slight hesitation for alarm, and wonder if you asked the wrong question. “If it’s too personal, you really don’t have to,” you blurt out in panic, eyes wide.

However, Jaemin shakes his head. “I don’t mind telling you at all. It’s just that it’s not as fun a story as yours. More sad, actually.” He looks rather forlorn, and you’re not sure how to reach out to him. Instead, you sit in silence, waiting for him to continue.

“My grandmother suffered from memory loss. It was very bad, but doctors refused to diagnose her. They tried sending her to an institution to be confined, but my parents decided to keep her at home instead. She passed away a few months later.” he mutters, and you realise that this must be something that he doesn’t tell many people, from the way the words come out stilted. Alzheimer’s had just been properly diagnosed for the first time less than five years ago, and the cases were often few and far in between.

You suppose this must have happened when he was much younger, when the number of experienced psychologists in the city was horrendously low. The fact that he’s willing to divulge this information to you tugs at your heartstrings, and Jaemin suddenly looks terribly alone from the way he’s hunched over at the desk.

Despite all the praise heaped on him and the many accolades, Jaemin’s still young, no older than you.

Suddenly, his motivation for choosing cognitive function as a research area makes so much sense. Jaemin wants to know how people have memories because he knows someone who lost them.

You’re not one in the way of comforting people, but you walk closer to Jaemin’s desk and grab his hands. It’s sudden, judging from the way Jaemin immediately looks up at you, but he doesn’t pull his hands away from yours. You think that’s a pretty good start.

“She would be proud of you if she knew what you were doing now. You’ll be able to help even more people with your research. And besides, we’re partners now. We’ll figure it out together,” you promise, and the dark clouds in Jaemin’s expression seem to clear up. There’s a shine to his eyes as he looks at you, and the atmosphere is strangely peaceful.

“Thank you, Y/N. It means a lot. More than you know.” His voice is level now, and you can tell that whatever thoughts were plaguing his mind have cleared up temporarily. You allow a grin to make its way onto your face.

“It’s getting rather late. If you want to thank me, let’s go out for dinner.”

Jaemin’s eyes immediately dart to the clock, and he stands up abruptly, moving towards the coat rack and passing you yours before shrugging one on.

“My treat, then,” he replies as he holds the door open for you.

“I haven’t seen the both of you in weeks. It’s like you’ve disappeared off the face of the earth,” Donghyuck mutters as he looks at you and Jaemin, a blank expression on his face. You smile sheepishly at him.

“Sorry. We’re really busy with the project. It’s in its final stages now,” you confess, and Donghyuck hums, nodding.

“Speaking of which, Donghyuck, I have something to ask.” Jaemin’s words spark your curiosity, but you continue flipping through the book that you have in your hands.

“How would you like to be one of our test subjects?”

You turn your head to look up sharply at him. Jaemin’s voice is sweet when he says it, and there’s obvious alarm in your eyes. Jaemin catches your gaze, but he doesn’t retract the offer. Instead, he just smiles, and you realise what he’s doing.

Donghyuck ponders over the offer, casting a glance at Jaemin suspiciously, who keeps his expression perfectly blank and innocent.

“Sure. It sounds fun,” Donghyuck replies, and Jaemin breaks out into the widest smile you’ve ever seen. You try not to burst out laughing, using your book to cover your mouth. Jaemin has a concealed sense of mischief that only seems to reveal itself at odd moments, most often in situations involving Donghyuck.

This will be fun, you think.

Two hours later, the test subject in mention is glaring at the both of you from where he sits, pen in hand and sheet in the other.

“You didn’t say I would have to memorise sixteen pages of notes. In the smallest possible font on the typewriter, no less,” Donghyuck states angrily, realising he’s been tricked by the both of you.

“What did you think cognitive function was?” You question, a bemused smile on your face as you hear Donghyuck groan before ruffling his hair in frustration.

“I thought it would be like an interview, you know? Where you get asked different questions and they analyze your answers,” he replies, and you hear a huff of a laugh from behind you. “This isn’t like the ridiculous questionnaires you tick off on the newspaper, Donghyuck,” Jaemin interjects, and Donghyuck eyes widen in offence.

“I will have you know, Na Jaemin, that those questionnaires are extremely accurate. And besides, how would I know? I’m not the Psychology professor here.”

“I’m not a professor either,” you remind him, and Donghyuck smiles slightly. “All three of us in this room know that you are perfectly capable of being one.” Jaemin makes a noise of assent, and your heart soars just a little at the praise.

“Either way, I’m done with your test,” Donghyuck says as he stands up, passing you his papers. You look them over quickly, realising that for all his antics, Donghyuck is actually a lot smarter than he seems.

“You did well,” you mumble absentmindedly, and Donghyuck smirks. “Thanks, I know. I’ll leave now,” he says before leaning close next to your ear. “And have fun with Jaemin,” he whispers almost conspiratorially, and before you can ask him what it means, Donghyuck’s out of the room.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Jaemin’s voice immediately snaps you back to attention, and you nod quickly. “Oh yes, of course.” Your neck feels awfully warm, and you rub at it, unsure why.

“We know you didn’t need an additional test subject. Did you just want to mess with Donghyuck?”

“Well, I suppose so. It was amusing to see his face when we gave him the list,” Jaemin confesses, and you chuckle under your breath. “On another note, I think we’re done with the first draft.” Your posture immediately stiffens at his words, and you rush over to Jaemin’s desk.

“Really?” You ask incredulously, even though you know Jaemin didn’t have any reason to die. He hands you the bundle of papers that is ten months of hard work and intense research, and you cradle it gently, almost like a baby. It feels oddly momentous, somehow. This is everything you’ve worked for and thought about in every waking moment since that fateful encounter with Jaemin, when the both of you first sealed the deal.

Each word is familiar to you, considering you’ve proofread it a million times, but seeing the research organized and printed out feels oddly surreal. That your work is now tangible. All of your dreams and aspirations are contained within this one little bundle, and it feels precious.

Jaemin looks at the quiet pride on your face as you look through, and he can’t contain his smile either. “I’m going to send it to the university for feedback on the draft, but it’s definitely on par with other competing projects. Once that’s done, it’ll be published,” Jaemin tells you, and you look up at him. There’s an undeniable sense of excitement that pervades you, and the idea of finally seeing it in official print provides a strange sort of thrill.

“Thank you, Jaemin,” you say sincerely, and he shakes his head.

“No, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N.” He’s painfully earnest when he says it, and your heart stumbles slightly as you look at Jaemin. His features seem even more delicate today, his eyes brighter than usual. You’re not sure if it's the heady rush of elation filling you from finishing the project, but you finally understand what Karina meant when she asked you if you found Jaemin attractive.

The thought that Karina might be right scares you, but it’s also exhilarating. You’ve seen Jaemin at his best and in his moments of vulnerability, and he’s been a wonderful partner. Someone who pushes your thoughts in new, unfamiliar directions, who doesn’t hesitate to question your opinions.

You suppose you have to give Karina credit for calling your bluff so early on. Still, now can’t possibly be the right time. The both of you still have some work left to do, and anything now would just be a distraction.

Your feelings will have to wait, but you don’t mind. After all, you enjoy your time with Jaemin now, even if it is occasionally punctuated by the fluttering of your pulse.

It takes three weeks for the panel to review the draft, and another week to give their feedback. The next time you’re in the university, it’s spring, and the smell of fresh flowers invades your senses the moment you step foot on the campus.

You’re poised to knock on the door that’s already half-ajar when you hear muffled conversation from inside. You decide to stay in the hallway, at least until Jaemin’s guest is done.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“She’s my co-researcher, Mr Lee. I don’t think it’s a matter of want.” You immediately jerk up to pay attention, because that’s you Jaemin’s talking about. You know you’re eavesdropping, but you can’t help it. Jaemin’s voice is uncharacteristically harsh, but so is the Provost’s.

“You know that there will be a penalty on credit for not being a solo researcher. You’re already losing out. And to do it with a girl that has no qualifications, no less…Do you know what the panel will think?”

Mr Lee’s words cause the back of your throat to close up, even as you know they are true to some extent. You had been living in a joyful denial, ignoring the realities of the university’s expectations. Still, you stand outside the office, unable to move.

“Even then-”

“Jaemin. Do you want this scholarship or not? Surely she can’t have contributed that much. Just remove her name and negotiate it with her later.”

Your heart drops to your feet at the Provost’s words. Jaemin doesn’t respond, and for some reason, that feels even worse than Mr Lee stepping all over your hopes with a single sentence. You’re scared of hearing what he might have to say, and you don’t think you can bear hearing his agreement outright. It’s painfully silent, only the sound of your ragged breathing filling your ears.

You’re suddenly filled with an overwhelming feeling of loneliness, almost as if you’re unwelcome here. Jaemin’s office is no longer familiar, instead making you feel worse and worse with each and every second you spend near it.

You need air.

There’s a few students you crash into along the way, some of which recognise you. They look at you bewildered, as you run past them towards the exit. Even then, you’re not quick enough to avoid the first tears falling. At least no one saw you, you suppose. You scoff slightly. Maybe they would use the tears as evidence of your fragile emotional state.

As much as you’re angry at the circumstances you’re in, you also feel like a fool. A fool for having pursued this project with Jaemin, for believing that for a moment, it would work out. For believing Jaemin, especially.

You had your head in the clouds, and now you were crashing back down to Earth in a rapid descent.

You’re not sure why you thought his acceptance would be enough, sufficient for you to reach your goals. It never had been. And judging from his lack of a response to the Provost, you’re about to lose that too.

You can’t even blame him, which you suppose is the worst part. For all you knew, you might have been deadweight this past year. Jaemin would be better off choosing to remove your name, and it would make his life much, much easier. It was a smart decision. You couldn’t possibly take that from him. After all, he deserved the success, the scholarship. You weren’t even a student. What did it matter, in the end?

Still, you’re not sure if you can ever look at Jaemin without being reminded of what you’ve lost. It’s not his fault, but he is a living, breathing reminder of everything you’re not, and every moment you have to live with it might just be a new type of hell. You’re not just going to lose a valuable partner, but a friend too. And perhaps, he might have been more. You don’t know, and you don’t think you want to wonder about the what ifs, because it might just break you even more.

You had promised yourself that if this didn’t work out, you would give up. Give up and do whatever your father wished for you to do. It’s painful, but you’re at the end of your rope. Pursuing another foolish daydream would just simply leave you even more empty. Even then, the bitter taste of defeat refuses to leave your mouth, even as you force your feet to take you towards the arched gates of the campus grounds.

Leaving the campus feels strange, especially since you’re not sure when you will be able to come back. The red brick walls, mulberry trees, stained glass windows - they’ve become as familiar to you as your own home.

So has the dark oak furnishings and lush carpets of Jaemin’s office, but you’ll have to forget about that now.

Jaemin waits for you that entire afternoon.

You’ve never been late, only early or punctual. He checks his schedule twice, just to make sure he’s gotten the correct day. He runs down to his mailbox twice and asks the office, just to see if you left a note for him.

Nothing. It’s like you’ve disappeared, though Jaemin knows that’s not possible. Something must have come up. But even then, as he thinks of all the possibilities, it only makes him more anxious. He quickly scribbles a quick letter and seals it with wax, and he feels a little calmer once he has your address written down and the letter mailed.

I’m sure everything’s fine. She’s likely busy, he tells himself.

He gives it two weeks and six missed lectures before he starts panicking. He’s not a particularly antsy person, or someone who overthinks. At least, that’s what he likes to think of himself, and what most people believe of him. He’s calm and reserved. Jaemin can’t help but worry a bit more when it comes to you, however.

He doesn’t give himself time to regret an impulsive decision, as he hails a cab to bring him to your address. It’s only when he’s standing on the porch, finger on the doorbell, that he hesitates slightly. What if, for whatever reason, you don’t wish to see him?

“Jaemin?”

The sudden appearance of a voice behind him causes Jaemin to jump, but the sound is gentle and familiar. He turns around to see you in a robin-blue sundress, a book in hand. Jaemin’s relief is palpable on his face as he sees you, and he immediately descends the steps, closing the distance between the both of you. However, you retract from him, as if stung, and Jaemin is at a loss.

“Y/N. I didn’t see you for the past two weeks, and I got worried. Forgive me for showing up so suddenly.”

The hesitancy on your face has shifted to an uncomfortable apprehension directed at Jaemin. “I suppose we couldn’t avoid this conversation forever. I’d prefer another place, however,” and you turn, walking away, seemingly for Jaemin to follow you.

There’s a feeling of fear that clings to Jaemin, however, at your words. You’re uncharacteristically cold, tone and expression void of your usual exuberance. Whatever you have to say to Jaemin has to be important. He just hopes it isn’t bad news.

Even then, his mind goes into overdrive, thinking of the worst possible options. Maybe you’re leaving the country. Maybe you’re sick. He doesn’t like any of those options.

Jaemin’s jerked out of his thoughts when you gesture for him to take a seat. The both of you are in a garden, assumedly your family’s. The gazebo provides a welcome respite from the midday sun, and Jaemin watches as you sit opposite him.

The distance feels too far, somehow.

“If you have anything on your mind, Y/N, you can tell me. We’re friends. You know that,” Jaemin assures as he meets your gaze. However, you quickly tear your eyes away from him, fiddling with your hands in your lap. Jaemin can tell you’re nervous, but he’s not sure why. The book is forgotten, placed on the corner of your chair.

“I don’t want to study Psychology anymore,” you mutter, and Jaemin has to wonder if he’s heard you right.

You’re someone even more passionate about the subject than Jaemin is. How-

“I’m just not interested. Not enough to pursue it further,” you say candidly, and Jaemin’s head is spinning, attempting to wrap his head around the reality of the situation. It takes a few minutes for him to collect his thoughts, and the next time he looks at you, his eyes are piercing, uncomfortably so.

“You’re lying. I know you, Y/N,” he replies, and the way you tap your foot on the ground confirms Jaemin’s doubts. He’s familiar with the habit- did you forget you told him that was the way people caught your untruths?

“No, I’m not. How dare you-”

“For God’s sake, Y/N, the book you’re holding is a manual by Carl Jung.” Your eyes quickly dart to the book, cheeks burning with shame. Even then, Jaemin’s tone isn’t accusatory, just truthful.

“If this is because of the university-”

“I heard your conversation with the Provost, Jaemin. Every single part of it,” you confess, your voice getting increasingly shaky as you lose your grip on your composure.

“You’re my co-researcher, Y/N, I told him that,” Jaemin continues, and you wipe a hand across your face absentmindedly.

“I don’t want to be a burden to your career, Jaemin. We both know you deserve the funding. Just remove my name,” you breathe out, and Jaemin immediately shakes his head. He finally realises why you’ve disappeared these two weeks.

“Y/N. Look at me.” Jaemin’s voice is insistent, and even though your eyes are still tear-stained, you listen to him.

“Do you know what I told Mr Lee?” You shake your head.

“I told him that you were indispensable to my research. That none of it would have been done without you, and I would rather abandon the entire thing than not credit you,” Jaemin says, and you exhale sharply. “I told him that you were smarter than some of my best students, that it was the university’s loss for not letting you in.”

You don’t dare to believe what Jaemin’s saying, especially after each moment of the past two weeks. Your eyes inspect his face for a hint of dishonesty. And yet, Jaemin’s expression remains completely honest, his eyes calm and trusting as they look at you. It makes you want to place your faith in him, that maybe this will be enough.

“And what-what did Mr Lee say?” You’re trembling and nervous, but it feels good, almost.

A knowing smile makes it’s way onto Jaemin’s face, and his eyes fill with something else. Fondness, you realise. And barely-concealed excitement. “He said he would review your application again, and allow me to endorse it with the admissions department.”

You realise Jaemin is talking about your application to become a student, and you’re filled with pure, unfiltered joy as you look at him and realise that what he’s saying is true. That after four years of doubt and confusion, it just might be possible.

Jaemin seems to sense the thoughts running through your mind, and his smile only gets brighter.

“So, will you come back to the office now? The edits aren’t going to revise themselves, and I need a better brain to help me with them.”

You immediately let out a small laugh. “I feel a little foolish now,” you confess. “It seems like a lot of it was overthinking.”

Jaemin’s eyes soften imperceptibly. “It wasn’t foolish at all, Y/N.” Jaemin’s presence is comforting, you realise, and the lack of his companionship has been made all the more obvious by your deliberate distancing.

Having him here, with everything worked out, makes it feel as if your life is no longer off-kilter.

When you burst into Jaemin’s office two weeks later, you’re smiling from ear to ear. He looks up at your abrupt arrival, immediately standing up when you stride over to his desk, acceptance letter in hand. “I’m a student starting next week,” you exclaim excitedly, and Jaemin has never seen you this cheerful before.

Truthfully, the admissions board had already informed him that you would be accepted- after all, he was one of the people that had to review your application. Even then, Jaemin tries to look surprised, a cheerful expression on his face. It isn’t difficult, considering how contagious your joy is.

“I have to go off now, but I just- really wanted to share it with you. For being the one to make it happen,” you say softly.

“You did this by yourself, Y/N. I helped because you deserved it.” Jaemin watches as you take in his words, as your smile softens into something more gentle, more tranquil. It’s an expression that he rarely sees on you, and it feels precious.

When you turn to leave, Jaemin’s filled with a strange emotion. It’s almost like a sense of longing as he watches you disappear out the door. Even though he’s sure that the both of you are now close friends, and he’ll see you on campus regularly, the fact that the both of you will no longer have your weekly meetings feels disappointing, somehow.

The feeling lingers with him even at dinner, until even Donghyuck notices. “You’ve been down all day. What’s on your mind?” Renjun looks up from his food expectantly, and Jaemin runs a hand through his hair. It’s made even more suspicious by the way he is unable to muster an appetite. Both Renjun and Donghyuck had cast him suspicious glances when he had only ordered a bowl of soup.

“Where’s Jeno, by the way?”

“You know he’s in the military. Don’t try to change the topic,” Renjun points out, and Jaemin sighs.

“It’s just that the research project with Y/N is over, and-”

“You want to continue seeing her, but you’re not sure how? You feel strange without having her presence around you?” Donghyuck says, and Jaemin blinks at him. Once. Twice. Donghyuck’s right on the spot. Uncomfortably so.

“Well, yes. I guess so,” Jaemin mutters, and Renjun conceals his laugh with a sip of his drink. “See, Renjun. I told you. I’m always right,” Donghyuck says snarkily, and Renjun rolls his eyes. “Want me to remind you of what happened at the party last week?”

“What happened last week?” Jaemin asks, and Donghyuck shakes his head vehemently. “Nothing. Anyways, this is about you. How do you feel about Y/N, Jaemin?” Jaemin doesn’t like the way Donghyuck’s looking at him, as if he knows something he doesn’t.

“I can’t place my finger on it, but something like admiration? She’s capable, more so than me. Intelligent, but she’s able to make the other students laugh easily with her comments. Detailed, especially when she’s checking things,” he immediately responds without a second thought, and Renjun looks at him properly now, mirth in his eyes. “You and Donghyuck are much more similar than I expected.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Renjun is just being annoying. What he’s saying is that you like her.”

“I like Y/N plenty. She’s a good colleague. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be working together for over a year.” Donghyuck makes a noise of disbelief at Jaemin’s words, and casts an incredulous glance at Renjun, who simply shrugs. “Don’t make that face at me, Donghyuck. You’re even worse. You made her cry, remember?”

Donghyuck falls silent at that, miffed. Jaemin turns to Renjun for clarification, and the boy looks exasperated, almost as if he’s not sure why he’s the one has to manage the both of them.

“I’m not sure if you’ve realised, Jaemin, but you’ve changed a little the past year. You’ve stopped locking yourself in the office as much, and you seem happier. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but it seems like it’s because of Y/N. And for you to have these sorts of emotions…I don’t think it’s just friendship you’re looking for,” Renjun clarifies.

Donghyuck mutters a ‘finally’ under his breath, but Jaemin barely catches it, stuck in his own thoughts. He thinks about each time you’ve dragged him out to meet the others, until he started doing it of his own volition. About how Renjun, Jeno and Haechan showed up at his office more often, and he no longer wanted to chase them out.

And then he thinks about what Renjun’s implying. That he might have feelings for you, feelings that extend beyond friendship. He finds himself not scared off by the thought, but instead, it fills him with an unfamiliar sort of hope.

The thought of a relationship was an alien concept to him. If it had been mentioned to him a year ago, he would have shrugged it off in moments. Of course, he had people express their interest, sometimes not so subtly. He was decently attractive, after all, and had a good family. But a relationship had never been in the cards for him.

However, you made him want to imagine the possibilities. That when it came to you, he wouldn’t mind being something more, beyond just colleagues and friends. Partners, in every sense of the word. It explains the strange nervousness that overtakes him each time you look at him, or ask him a question. It explains the peace that flooded him that night in the office, when he divulged secrets he had never been willing to tell anyone, all because he trusted you inexplicably.

“I wonder how you’re even a Psychology professor, when you can’t even recognize your feelings from a mile away,” Donghyuck teases, and Jaemin allows a small smile to make its way on his face.

He knows now, and that’s all that matters. The only thing left is to figure out what to do with the weight of his newfound realization, and Jaemin hopes you won’t muddle his mind even more than you already have.

There’s a frenetic energy in the lecture hall this morning, one that you can’t help but get caught up in as well. Jaemin seems to be pacing around more than usual, his words coming out at a faster pace as he scribbles on the chalkboard and everyone tries to catch up. It’s definitely not something serious enough to warrant concern, but you wonder if there’s something on his mind the past week.

His schedule has been full with meetings held by the department, and yours with the coursework required of a university student, especially since you started slightly later in the semester. It’s left you to only be able to see him during lectures, often a friendly smile as you come in and take your seat before he begins teaching.

Distracted, you press your pen nib down a little too hard, a feeling of dread coming a little too late once you hear the sound of it snapping. Ink blots out over your paper, and you curse under your breath, frantically scooping the rest of the papers away. Ruined notes aside, you won’t be able to remember the rest of the lecture in detail later. You’re worrying your lip, when a hand extends in your vision.

“Here. I have an additional one for emergencies,” the voice next to you is low enough to not be heard by the rest of the students, and you turn your head to see a man who looks slightly younger than you, round glasses perched on his face. “Thank you,” you whisper back, fingers brushing over the smooth black lacquer. It’s a much better pen than whatever you’re using, and you suppose you should consider investing in better stationery.

“The name’s Hendery, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.” His tone of voice is surprisingly casual, and it takes a while for the name to land. Hendery. You recall that he’s the student Jaemin mentioned, the one who submitted a lacklustre essay that was out-of-the-norm. He’s one of Jaemin’s favourite students, and you suppose you can understand why. His notes are in a neat script, books arranged neatly and his suit perfectly ironed.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” you reply, and he grins affably, just enough to catch you off-guard. Most of the male students here choose to ignore you, or have awkward grimaces when you nod your head in greeting. It’s rather refreshing.

“Professor Na showed us one of your essays once in class. I’ve never gotten the chance to tell you how much I enjoyed it, and I referenced it in one of my assignments. You can have the pen. I wanted to return the favor,” he adds, and you pause for a while, before smiling back at him and returning to your notes.

“Hendery. What was the main research method of Structuralism?” Jaemin’s voice rings out suddenly, and you dart your head down, attempting to look occupied. It’s not the most honourable thing to do, but you rather not be on the receiving end of failing to answer Jaemin’s questions.

“Experimental studies, Professor?”

“Introspection. That’s what differs it from other schools of thought. Do take better focus next time.”

“Sorry, Professor.”

You feel bad for Hendery. The boy only wanted to extend a helping hand. Still, you know he’s in Jaemin’s good books, and from the way he waves to you, smiling, as he leaves the lecture hall, allows your shoulders to sink in relief.

You’ve made a new friend of sorts. It feels nice, even though you’re used to remaining alone while on campus. Today, however, your schedule is noticeably free, both Ningning and Karina out of the country for business trips. This leaves you to rush down the staircase, attempting to chase after Jaemin before he gets swept up by another meeting.

You call out his name, and the man in question turns around sharply, causing you to skid to a stop and narrowly avoid crashing into him. “Whoa, careful there,” he mutters, and you let out a nervous laugh.

“Did you need me for something?” There’s an unreadable expression on Jaemin’s face. One that you can’t exactly decipher, and you respond with a shaky grin. “No. I just wanted to see you.” The words escape too fast for you to process their weight, leaving your cheeks to redden slightly.

It’s oddly honest, and from his sharp inhale, you’re not sure if you’ve been too forward, despite the nature of your relationship.

“How has work been?”

“Good. Busy,” his voice is terse, reminiscent of the tone that he uses with students, and it causes you to frown slightly. “Will you be going to Haechan’s party this weekend?” Infuriatingly, Jaemin only shakes his head, and you’re left trailing after his footsteps, wondering if you’ve done something wrong.

The walk to his office feels shorter than you remember, and you wonder if it’s because you haven’t been here in too long. The man in front of you still remains frustratingly silent, causing your thoughts to swirl in worry.

“Jaemin. We’re still partners. Talk to me,” you bite out, and he looks up at you, wide eyes no different from that of a deer caught in headlights. He nibbles nervously at his lip, and your eyes inevitably drift down at the motion, before you step closer to him.

“Look, if I did something wrong-”

“You did nothing, Y/N. Believe me when I say that,” his voice is audible, even as it cuts you off abruptly. It’s the longest sentence you’ve heard from Jaemin all day, and you try not to let out a sigh. “Then what is it?”

You’re genuinely worried now, eyes never leaving Jaemin’s figure as he paces across the room, fiddling with his fingers slightly. There’s a strange look in his gaze as he refocuses on you, something like a mix of longing and hesitation. It makes your breath catch in your throat, and you’re unable to move from where you’re standing. The both of you are standing directly opposite each other now, and you would laugh if it wasn’t for the situation itself, considering how it’s almost identical to your first meeting with Jaemin.

“I would like to think that I’m a clear-headed person, Y/N, but I think I may be going a little mad.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the strangeness of Jaemin’s words, unable to decipher their meaning.

“I felt…jealous. When I saw you with Hendery. I know very well it’s ridiculous. But it seems the green-eyed monster doesn’t seem to pick targets.”

You’re bewildered at this point, understanding Jaemin’s words well enough and yet unable to grasp any coherent meaning to them. You’re not sure if you can believe what you’re hearing. If you’re hearing it right, or tunnel vision is causing you to interpret Jaemin’s words in an entirely different light.

“You were jealous of…?” Your voice trails off into silence, a question dripping with anticipation as you look at Jaemin, the room heavy with tension. You think your hands might be shaking, but you can’t be bothered to check.

“Jealous of him. I know you’re your own person, and you’re entirely free to be with and love who you want. But seeing you smile at him makes my heart seize in this terrible way like some sort of lovesick fool, and I’m not sure if I can go on like this without telling you.”

There’s a stricken expression on your face at Jaemin’s barely coherent confession, and he runs a hand roughly through his hair, truly panicking now.

“What I’m saying, Y/N, is that I think I may be in love with you. No. I know it. And it makes me a nervous wreck around you, but I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

Jaemin barely gets the words out before you’re crossing the distance in two quick strides and standing right in front of him. It makes his breath hitch and his heart palpitate wildly, even as you lean imperceptibly closer. The way your simple actions affect him is barely understandable to Jaemin, and he’s not sure if there’s anything in his knowledge to explain it.

Yet, Renjun had put it forth so simply for him, as if the answer was plain as day.

Love. It was love that made Jaemin miss your presence, that made him think of you daily and cause a lump to form in his throat at seeing you and Hendery. It was love that made Jaemin want to hold on tightly and never let go, to follow you to parties and wherever else you asked him to.

“Are you…about to reject me?” He asks nervously, and you feel your gaze soften as you look at Jaemin. Your colleague, your equal match, your friend, your partner. In everything.

And that’s how Jaemin receives his answer. It’s you grabbing his tie and pulling him down towards your height before planting your lips on his firmly, hands eventually winding around his neck. It’s a few seconds before he seems to realize it, but when he does, Jaemin’s quick to return the favour, holding your waist securely to close the distance between the both of you as much as he can.

The way Jaemin moves his mouth against yours leaves you breathless, but craving for more. He’s passionate, so different from the usual, calm side that he presents. Even then, the way he holds you to him is gentle, as if you’re made of precious glass.

Jaemin kisses you like he’s been waiting to do so forever, and you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it, even as you finally pull away for some much-needed air. You feel faint when he leans his forehead against yours, noses bumping slightly and causing you to let out a soft chuckle. From this close, you can smell his cologne, a clean scent that reminds you of clean laundry and spun cotton.

You blink slowly before opening your eyes, and it causes him to smile, doe-brown eyes crinkling faintly.

“I suppose that was a yes?” He asks, tone successfully returned to playful, and you pull back to look at him incredulously.  “Of course it was a yes. What kind of person do you think I am?”

“A person who has my heart in the palm of her hand. It’s a dangerous position to be in.” The straightforward confession sends blood rushing up your cheeks, forcing you to look down, away from his piercing gaze.

“Jaemin. I-” you stumble over your words, unsure of what you want to say to the man before you. You’re not sure what you would do without Jaemin, but you do know there’s a lot more that you wish to do with him. “Love wasn’t in the cards for me at all. You and I both know that. But I’m glad that I have this. That I have you.”

There’s a look of quiet happiness on Jaemin’s face when he tilts your chin up to look at him, a gentle slant of his lips that lights up his features. He doesn’t need to say anything more, not when there’s so much that has passed between the both of you.

Jaemin’s scared, of course. That one day your memories or his might bleed out like quicksand, leaving the both of you strangers. But if he doesn’t take the chance, he’ll never be able to recall the feeling of having you by his side, and the idea of that is much more terrifying.

He will love you more than he will remember you, and it will be enough.

[yet-another-haven-of-dollya]

Please, how do I make money fast in dol?? I've always played with cheats on cuz I'm a pussy. I've gotten better from my past no cheats on playthroughs, but still, I still would like to know from the pro, my favorite dol account. Please, tell us your ways🛐

Huh... And here I thought money is the last thing you need to worry about when you've been playing long enough on one save. Alright, I doubt anything I'm gonna say is new, but since you asked so nicely, I'll go into details with my 4 PCs and highlight their most rewarded methods.

In general, early game is always tricky since your stats are low. High Math grade and higher certain stats make things easier.

1. Lya

- She used to be a massage staff at the Spa. High enough beauty (4/6 if I remember right) or hand skill is required to work there, and high dance skill make it fairly safe. Higher promiscuity and skuldugery open chances for lewder things and more money.

- Antique hunting. At the lake. High swimming skill recommended. And down the sewer too. I only intended to grind her skuldugery, but then she started to get attached to Winter so she go hunt antique for him ever since. Then the old church yard too. Still the Ivory necklace is a no.

- Dancing jobs. Charlie's Danube street job and at the brothel. Not the strip club but the brothel. Higher skuldugery can only be grinded while encountering so yeah, she work at the brothel for a pretty long time and install the vending machine there too.

- Be a model at Niki's studio.

- Working at Sirris' adult toy shop and selling flowers at the market sometime.

- Alex farm. Invested in the Farm, make things automatic and safe, then brought things to the Harvest street for sale. It's pretty okay and leisurely too.

- The doting Hawk spouse. Yes. Sometimes she goes to the tower to relax, getting away from the dirty town. When you're with the Hawk you just have to sleep, bath, sing all day, maybe walk around the moor a bit, be pretty and wait for the goodest bord to bring things back to you and sell them to Landry later.

2. Lyah

- Being Avery escort. Yeah help very much in the early game. He still keep her company sometime now.

- Steal things from people. He make the most out of his Devil tf to get into encounter, steal, then tell people to stop. Work like a champ. His skuldugery went up fastest out of all 4 PCs.

- Bartender at Strip Club. He works there for fun and to look out for Darryl, but sometimes encounter happen. So it still counts. Vending machine still installed at the Brothel.

- Chef. The ultimate way to make money. Even without Cow tf he still make a LOT out of it, being devoid of purity and lactating mean he has lots of bodily fluids to spare. Just a few hours of "work" and remember to save some for his wife, and the money is insane.

3. Kariya

- Doing odd jobs in the street. Usually to get into encounters.

- Working at the Agency.

- Seducing someone randomly at the Pub, the Farm, at nights,... You name it.

- Get up early and pick the locks of every house or building before they open for the day.

- Playing cards with Wren. Every-single-day. They often just continue untill the lewd part happen. That's their fav part anw. And running around butt-naked with Wren too.

- Dancing and Private shows at the Brothel. Mostly for fun but their money primarily comes from these activities. Briar's most fav worker for sure.

4. "Nyan"

- Working at the Dog Pound and Sam's Cafe (waiter only)

- Doing odd jobs in the street for Housekeeping skill, sometime pick locks and steal from Danube street.

- Temple monthly allowance. Even at max Grace it's not much, but still better than nothing.

- Charlie's dancing job. Charlie offered the safe job, but Nyan often asked for the more dangerous one. Jordan asked him to investigate anyway.

- Antique hunting in the lake, etc... Nyan is still in the build, so he mostly stick with his older siblings safer choices.

Okay, there, I think that's basically things I can recall for now. Also since all my PCs are Robin protectors, they mainly stick to safer paths and don't go away from the Orphanage for too long unless they can't help it. So huge chance there are many more ways to make bigger bucks that I'm not aware of yet. Still, hope this helps!

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: Housing Threat Update

For those following the HOA saga, I talked them into letting me pay in three installments. We reached funding goals for the "Special Assessment" towards the end of November and I sent them the second installment. Paying them so close to the end of the month apparently messes eveything up. Did they take the monthly housing payment or not? My bank account says they did, but the e recient sounds like they didn't and the "portal" is useless for finding out as it pretends the special assessments aren't happening.

I am waiting for third installment money to transfere and hoping I don't have to come up with another $550 because they insist on the shitty non-standard hard to use portal instead of any other system and are not willing to just tell me how much I actually owe them.

Bonus: Over last weekend they sent an emergancy message saying they could not take the Special assessment installment unless I fixed something on the portal, even though my bank said they had the money. They sent no link or directions to finding the semi-mythical page as unlike a website with a drop down menu, there is no site map or any way to find pages not on the set of tabs they offer. It was not in the tab that seemed most likely, which I checked five or six times including a click through to the next page between trying all the other tabs etc.. The help and site search tab required a seperate log in which required figuring out which password I was usong. It took most of an hour to work out the page I needed was three pages in from the tag I started out with. You had do figure out the maze of text hyperlinks to get there because no drop down menus.

Jesus fuck!

…and this odyssey also lead to the discovery they are planning to auto-withdraw payments owing nom-concentually from everyone's bank accounts on the 17th. O.o Too bad of you don't have it. Now you owe bank overdraw fees and HOA late fees all accrueing daily and they are planning to sue and evict you. This is terrifying, and they are doing this because of an illegal special assessment we would have to have a class action lawsuit to stop, which we very likely need because the emergancy fund was suddenly drained at the same time the Boomers put up an inceredibly broken security theater gate that does not work in all the ways I told them it would not work in writing when they announced it after the indoor waterfalls happened so they knew that expense was coming which they did not consult anyone about and now they are re refusing to release any financial statements about how they spent their funds in 2024, leading us to have very many questions about finances… anyway. Sigh.

I really wish they'd just fucking give me some sort of total that says what I actually fucking owe according to them instead of me having to trust my note and dyscalculia math to work it out and hope they aren't screwing me because of the lack of proof I paid.

[b1asho]

And another question regarding your humans/RUU post;

are cybernetics used by the DRSS for any military-esque purposes?

(And also- forgot to add on my last ask that yes, I know that RUU would have been used to power human spacecrafts... but why RUU?Why not use something like nuclear fusion? I assume humans would at least learn how to use fusion power before such a dangerous and obscure energy source).

Uhh tumblr was kind of glitching out on me I hope I’m not making a duplicate of this ask…

Cybernetics started out as only a medical thing, but you can guess how long it stayed that way. Even back on earth and the colonies, there was militarized use of the tech, mainly because of the obvious " advancing your physical capabilities" thing and for some special technology-related stuff (like drone control etc)

Today, though, for the most part the DRSS military is more likely to keep things minimal. The most common cybernetic things are brain chips for better control of a robotic exoskeleton (which can also be seen in commercial use for some careers like raw material extraction) These were all over the place back in the most recent war, but had some issues (both in how well they worked in general and the dangers if there were mancers around, specifically the guys who can control metal. If they could find it, say goodbye to the metal chip in your head, along with a good chunk of your brain.)

The minimalism is because for anything more involved or permanent (like a "new" arm and whatnot) the surgeries are invasive and expensive for something that's not altogether necessary for combat:

There's not as many people around these days who know how to install cybernetics. information on previous advancements in effectiveness and safety were lost in the Crash, so a lot of the really really advanced stuff they had is being built back up from the ground. The average cybernetic limb can exert more force but tends to still be a bit slower on the reaction movment time when compared to a meat one (for example, Zoe's hands have a lag that makes their movements look distinctly robotic, i wish i coukd animate it). The faster/"beyond meat capabilities" ones are delicate and require a lot of personalization and maintenance (theyre not mass-produced for a reason) In other words: crazy expensive for tech that's not really that great for combat purposes, we'd rather spend money on guns and vehicles for our soldiers than on building fancy stuff into individuals (who could just die...).

Also, most people are uncomfortable with the idea of making a permanent change to their body that isnt guaranteed to make their life better and is going to introduce a lot of new lifelong complications. This is even more of an issue because in a military case they could be choosing to do something like that under pressure from someone/something other than themselves (the cause/the war/them or their family's survival), bringing into question how much "control" they really had in that decision. Theres weird body autonomy stuff going on here (that i need to figure out how to approach) but the circumstances around taking out/putting in flesh and machine *for the military* are considered different than a civilan doing thay, so its not really as easy for anyone to say yes or no to it. Preservation of choice is one of the governments priorities, so a lot of the time even if someone in the military did ask for a higher cybernetic augmentation it'll be denied because of the potential of other factors "forcing them" to that decision?

Even the chips aren't mandatory for this reason, much less getting augments to your legs, arms, torso, etc.

In a similar vein, if you've lost limbs in combat, the military isn't going to just stick new cybernetic ones in.

Basically, no ones getting gun arms when they join the military because its expensive (we can just use normal guns and the robosuits) and also because it's seen as a complicated issue to do that to your body on purpose (again ive got to work on how to approach this part)

(I sorta answered the other part of this question in the other answered ask! But pretty much, reawakening of fear of nuclear power due to climate-related meltdowns+ collective freakout over a """clean""" energy source that needs no fuel and makes no waste.

[starsofjewels]

HPQD: Pets

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This has been in my drafts for a hot minute, and I feel like it's time to have the second installment of the HPQD series before I start writing smut pieces 🤭. Enjoy xx

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MASTERPOST

Content: Language (Fenrir)

Barty Crouch (Sr)- Cat:

Contrary to popular belief, Barty will melt if you adopt an animal together. He grew up with dogs, as any good pureblood heir should, and a variety of kitchen cats and their numerous kittens. The moment you bring up wanting a pet he’ll scoff, and tell you he wants something that will be useful, and not simply another waste of food; an owl, perhaps, something bred to work. Of course, that’s not to say he won’t come with you to the pet shop, and the animal rescues, so that you don’t “make a foolish decision”. That is until the two of you come across a little kitten on one of your many trips to professional breeders. A perfect, grey little thing with darker stripes on her, the domestic tiger Barty would tell the breeder, who didn’t find it particularly funny. You have to take this cat home, you insist you do, and Barty agrees, more than happy to bring home his fluffy, weak little grey tiger. He spends countless amounts of money on this cat before it even sets foot in your house: the best, softest cat beds, the most expensive food and drink bowls, and luxury pet food that you are certain costs more than your trips to the market. It makes him happy, though, and you cannot deny him the pleasure of cradling the kitten in a towel and setting her down in your living room to explore your home, treating the thing as he would his own, human, child. You name the creature Lily (as in the tiger lily flower). Barty thinks he’s being quite clever, you say nothing. Lily, in true cat fashion, is not particularly stable in her showing of affection. She prefers you, but that may be because Barty’s office is quite cold, and he never lights the fireplace. Still, upon occasion Lily makes her rounds around the house, and you hear Barty talking to her as though she both understands and cares what he is saying. The cat, as it turns out, is a terrifyingly good mouser, and has even managed to snatch up a rat on occasion; you will never tell Barty how funny it is when he shrieks, finding a mouse running wild in his office, shrieking out for dear life.

Oh, Merlin! Darling, darling, come quick- There’s a mouse in the office! No, no I am not afraid of it, thank you, but I have work to do- And they carry all sorts of diseases. Can’t you teach Lily to leave them outside?

Fenrir Greyback- Tortoise:

The problem with Fenrir and certain animals is- well- wolves are natural predators. Cats? He will bark at it, make no mistake. Rabbits? Hamsters? Birds? You have about a day to bond with your precious pet, before it becomes nothing more than memories, feathers and fur. You suggest a dog, a new addition to his pack, he stares at you, half-offended: 

I’m a wolf! That’s essentially slavery, I can’t own a dog!

And so, you are left with limited options, and very little hope that you will ever find the pet of your dreams, much less something fluffy and cuddly. Fenrir attempts to fulfil your demands- Letting you snuggle him in his werewolf-y form. But he’s not always a wolf, and there’s a certain level of unnerving sentience when he looks at you, and licks you in some animal form of a kiss. By chance, one day at the office, you somehow end up in a conversation about one of your coworkers’ new tortoise, bought as a birthday present for her son. Just as you begin to question who would give a seven-year-old a rock with legs, you realise that a tortoise might just be the perfect animal for Fenrir, it comes with its own helmet, designed to keep it safe from predators. Your search for a tortoise ends in the local reptile shop, when you discover one no larger than your hand available for rehoming; a rescue tortoise, if you will. The operation to install a terrarium in your shed requires the assistance of a few of Fenrir’s Death Eater acquaintances, who teach you how to arrange the enchanted self-heating stones, and how you should properly assist the tortoise when it hibernates.

It takes Fenrir three full weeks of working in the shed to realise that his new companion lives there, and he freaks, like a child discovering a spider. He relaxes, eventually, in mild discontent that the reptile is taking over his space. He names him Lazy Fuck, but you call him Timmy. You can’t tell your new reptile-enthusiast friends the poor thing has such a name, after all.

God, does it do anything? All it does is sit around and eat that lettuce, lazy fucker- I have a name for him, Lazy Fuck! It suits him, doesn’t it? Well… you can call him Timmy, I’m calling him Lazy Fuck. 

Rufus Scrimgeour- Hunting Hounds:

Rufus is a little more serious when it comes to animals. He is a rather busy man, and his duties as Minister are much more important than taking care of a pet. After all, it wouldn’t be fair to leave the poor thing alone all day, and who knows how many nights, whilst you attend galas and dinners, and all of the perks that come with being the Minister’s little companion. You beg him for a dog, looking into doggy daycares close to the Ministry. A dog would need to be cared for whilst you are away, after all.He asks why you can’t just have a cat, or something small, and you give some vague response. 

Rufus caves solely on envy. 

He takes a weekend in the north, hunting, where one of his friends is accompanied by a small group of beagles. Because of those dogs Rufus does not win the competition they hold every hunt, and decides he must have his own pack of, much better, hounds. He gets himself a group of English pointers, which come in different, distinguishing colours, so he can tell them apart. More than likely, they all have classical names, from mythology, which he assures you are very well thought out- Think Marcus and Minerva, for the Roman gods of war and victory respectively. The house comes with ample space for the pointers to run about in the mornings and evenings, and upon disturbingly close inspection he eventually settles for a “luxury” dog care facility, the same one copious other ministers use for their own pedigree dogs. Rufus is rather happy with these dogs, but he quickly realises that it was you who begged for an animal, and he is not one to deny you. He comes home one day with a little, long haired dachshund, dressed up with a bandana in your favourite colour, and those tiny shoes rich people tend to buy for their dogs, named Frank Furter, of course. He will give in to the sausage puns, as long as they remain reasonably discreet, and you never tell people the dachshund has a surname. Frank stays with you in the house when Rufus goes out for his trips, running up to you with the prey his powerful siblings bring as though he helped.

I know you were upset the pointers are for my hunting, so I brought you a present. Look, don’t you love his little legs? He’s cute, isn’t he? Just like you, my love- here, I’ll put him down for you, why don’t you get to know each other?

Lord Voldemort- Guinea Pigs:

The Dark Lord’s household is cursed by snakes. He speaks to them in the darkness, large and small, and they come to him, as requested. They never hiss or bite in any way untoward, but you still find them everywhere. And it is not fair. He can call for serpents at any time, and yet you still have no pet to call your own. Nagini is long gone, returned to the ancient jungles, and mother to a clutch of snakes almost as large as she. He has his own history with animals, and not a pleasant one. As sure as you are that Lord Voldemort has matured from his days as the orphan, pre-magical Tom Riddle, something leaves you unsure. There is something odd about his behaviour, as he coos at the grass snakes who appear in the garden, and sneak into the warmth of your kitchen over the winter. Enough is enough, you deserve a pet too. 

Your home has ample outbuildings you can use to your heart’s content. He has no reason for them but simple storage, and merely batting your eyelashes and asking for one for your personal use will get you exactly what you’d like.

And you would like pets.

The Dark Lord puts his head to the table and groans when you ask him for animals. Eventually, he hands you pamphlets and brochures for all of the best Guinea pig breeders in the country. You may find it strange, but he has his reasons: Hamsters are irritating and die in odd ways, cats and dogs require too much attention, and he will not let you disgrace the name of serpents by trying to put one around your neck and wearing it as a statement piece to freak out Lucius Malfoy.

You get two female Guinea pigs- One black and white, the other brown and white, with fluffy hair you could brush if you so wanted to. They are named Lolli and Pop, and you will never explain why your new animal friends have such odd names; you just think it’s funny, but you pretend there is some deep-seated meaning as to why. 

The Death Eaters find it hilarious that the Dark Lord owns a pair of Guinea pigs, and even more hilarious when you begin fashioning tiny robes for your pets, complete with a selection of hats. He doesn’t particularly mind, not now that his followers have made it a point to give him Guinea pig-related items as opposed to candles and jewels. He has saved a small fortune on food and toys for your pets, after all.

Ugh- Another luxury grooming set from the Rookwoods. Is this amusing because of your little rats, or because I am hairless? Both? I thought as much. Put this with the others, and be thankful the money you are saving me on products for those infernal beasts is greater than a little childhood teasing. They said thank you? They cannot talk, dear.

Igor Karkaroff- Class Fish:

Igor despises all animals. He will accept no debate or argument on this. He hates them. There is no heartwarming moment when you bring him a stray dog and he falls in love with it, or an orphaned owlet you raise together- No animals. Full stop. You have very little options, as he will find a pet in your home in a matter of hours, and have you send it back from whence it came. But, you realise, he has no power over your classroom or your office. He may be High Master, but your rooms are yours to decorate as you see fit, and you want an animal. It doesn’t take very long to decide on either a reptile or something aquatic- Small rodents are noisy, and not much fun to play with during the day, anything too big is off limits completely. You think of a bunny rabbit, but it would be cruel to keep the poor thing in a tiny cage, when it should be out roaming the grass. It comes down to the popular vote of your upper classes, who all decide you should have an aquarium. Fish are more relaxing to look at, apparently. Working in a school with students whose pocket money amounts to more than your entire yearly salary comes in quite handy for acquiring an aquarium, an impulsive purchase from a boy’s mother, brought to you from years in their cellar, and very quickly you begin to amass a collection of items for said fish: live plants, gravel and even the fish itself. One of your juniors brings you a beautiful, red and pink betta fish in a little bag, and you are more than happy to take him in. Igor knows you’re up to something, now that you’ve barred him from entering your classroom, and have sworn all of your students to complete secrecy. He won’t ask, he assumes you’re having a moment, and are doing something odd- His current bet is painting your classroom orange.  

Although you are a little sad that your betta fish cannot live with any fishy friends, you understand that the creature will probably turn violent, and you cannot handle the possibility of explaining a fish massacre to a collection of twelve-year-olds.

The name of your new pet is put up to vote, again, and they decide, in shockingly agreeable fashion, that  it will be called Igor Sharkaroff, one of your personal favourite name options, and the one you voted for. 

Igor, unable to handle the mystery any longer, forces himself into your classroom, only to be met with his namesake fish. He rolls his eyes, tuts to you in words you know are swears and leaves, never to speak of the fish again. 

Until he finds out you've named it after him. 

Yes, I know I told you the classroom was yours to decorate, but I did not mean this! Ugh- No, the name is not funny, it’s a disgrace... Alright, it is a little bit funny, but I am not burying that thing when it dies. What do you mean, fish funeral?

[elvenbeard]

2069

"Is this all there is to this life? Should be recognizin' myself in the mirror better each day, but instead I feel more and more like I'm lookin' at a stranger..."

Vince ran away from home in 2067, aided by Jackie Welles whom he'd met the same year through a fateful coincidence. Jackie and his connections helped him gain independence from his family, and opened doors into a world Vince had so far only seen from far above and far away.

From one environment of buzzing neon lights into the next, although a much less polished one, he ended up in Kabuki. There he stayed for the next two years to come. Drifting from one dissatisfying odd job to the next he tried to build a new life from scratch. In some ways it was a very freeing experience. On file, his birthday was a different one now, aging him up just enough to get his mother off his back. He started HRT, got tattoos he'd always dreamed of, dressed more how he liked without fearing repercussions. He even felt comfortable growing his hair out, dyeing it darker... And soon he began to only introduce himself as "V" to new acquaintances, a nickname and advice given to him by Jackie when they first met.

In other ways though he felt just as out of place in Kabuki as he did in Charter Hill, if not more.

He knew little about life on the streets, was overqualified for what his employers asked of him, and unhappy, underwhelmed with his living situation as a whole. He'd never had to survive on a budget, struggled to make ends meet, or worried about food and rent before. Even Jackie had no solution to these problems - and merc work would never be Vince's style, even if it meant easy money. "Easy" always comes at a price later on...

Eventually, he ended up helping out at a niche tech store with ties to the Tyger Claws. It became the longest job he managed to hold before his pride got the better of him. After many heated arguments with the owner he decided to quit on the spot without much of a Plan B left. He had always done his best to stay away from trouble, gangs in particular, especially after a very unpleasant encounter with the Valentinos two years prior.

Despite his careful attempts to conceal his tracks though, keeping a low profile, and trying to make this new life work out for him somehow, his past began to catch up with him as the Unification War started to threaten Night City itself...

Vince through the years (2/9)

Welcome to more behind the scenes rambles! XD Today: Vince's cyberware and tattoos, of which many were part of him as of 2069 already.

Not too much intense editing required for this set, the lighting in that street is really nice as is with all the neon and stuff! Just off of Kabuki roundabout, where the tech store Vince worked at for the better part of a year was situated.

I did have some fun playing around with some filters for the glitch effect - it's not quite where I want it yet, but I was going for the kind of look V has on surveillance cameras in game, with his identity obscured and such!

During his time in Kabuki he didn't quite have the means that would have allowed for something similar. But still, he was keeping a low profile and taking a lot of not-quite-legal measures to obscure his whereabouts and identity as best as he could to get away from his mother.

Also, this is full headcanon territory and I'm not sure how compatible it is with Cyberpunk lore (I tried to find something online, stumbled upon an extensive cyberware listing from the 2020 rulebook and such)... but my personal headcanon for his piece of neck cyberware is that it's fashionware on the outside, but under the surface it's doing some hormone synthesizing and regulation for his transition. Y'know, a convenient alternative for the array of options we have in our time and age with creams and gels or injections. A one time solution installed in your body that from day one will just do its thing for the rest of your life, basically (with some checkups and upgrades throughout the years obviously).

Also, Viktor got it for him, installed and all, and while they were at it Vince was like "Vik, do you do tattoos, too? I have an idea for something..." and that's basically how he got his demonic grin neck tattoo on the same day xD

Also around that time he would have gotten the wings on his back done:

Very symbolic and a little cliché, but he doesn't give a damn (and he doesn't know it at the time yet, but Kerry will love it xD). The whole "setting himself free" that year in all meanings of the word was very important to him. And by 2069 he'd completed the look with his chin and face tattoos.

The trans-colours cyber-flower on his right shoulder was the first "proper" tattoo he'd ever gotten, shortly before running away from home even. The little, slightly crooked Ursa Major just below it was a stick-and-poke a "friend" did on him even before that, but he never had the heart to get it covered. It's awkwardly positioned and a bit wonky, but he still likes it as a symbol and reminder of his childhood. He had the dots filled in with rainbow colors a little ways down the the line though.

His left shoulder and the chest piece connecting both right and left followed a few years later! We'll get to that :3

[ghoulangerlee]

coming from someone whose dad has worked in cars his whole life, sometimes you gotta take a step back and think about is it worth putting the money into a car that keeps breaking down? Currently in that situation myself and I’m trying my damndest to just get a different car. Definitely easier said than done, but that’s advice my dad has engrained into my brain since I was a kid. I hope things get better for you soon <3

Hey anon! I'm so sorry you're going through this situation as well! It really sucks, car troubles that is! I do hope things get better for you and you're able to get a different car!

I do want to be very clear about my car, this is the first time something beyond what I have capabilities to repair has happened. Anything else? I've been able to fix myself. I just don't have the know how or tools to install a new steering gear, hence, having to take it to a shop for diagnosis + having to shop around for a cheaper options. Hell until recently, I didn't even know what an EPS was or that my car didn't have a power steering pump.

Now, re the advice: yes, this is definitely very good advice and advice I used to help me make a decision to actually purchase the car I'm having issues with now! My last car: I paid $600 for it and the repair costs to fix it so it wouldn't leave me stranded far exceeded that amount. So, new car.

Unfortunately, this situation is a little bit different on the current car. I'm still paying it off. I have about $1200 left on it before I even get the title to it. My final car payment should be sometime at the end of January according to math.

Now, this was something I thought about when I got the total from Ford for the repair. All said and done, I've only paid about $6000 for the car and a repair cost of half that seems excessive when I could just get a new car. But again, I haven't paid it off and there's not many options for me with the lien on my title.

I briefly talked about it with the Ford guy, he mentioned that I could possibly sell it to them, and they would just add that $1200 onto the total of a new car. Read: New car.

I bought this one used, because I don't have money to make a "New Car" payment. The Ford here, doesn't do used cars in their car lot, so everything is straight from the factory and costs about $18000 to $23000.

And none of the used car lots here will do a "trade in" on a car with a lien. I've already called a few places.

Now, let's get to the numbers of everything here. So, to repair the car it's gonna cost me $2466. This comes with a warranty and a guarantee that if my power steering goes out again, they'll fix it for free.

If I were able to get a new car, I would have to make two car payments, plus two insurance payments, because the state I live in, requires you to have insurance on your car, even if it's disabled, and especially so if the car has a lien on the title, you have to pay for full coverage until the lien is satisfied.

A peek behind the curtain, every 6 months, my insurance premium is $1900. So, just having this car sitting in my complex's parking lot until it's paid off would cost me about $2800 on top of the cost for a new car payment, which may or may not be more than what I'm already paying a week. Plus the cost of new insurance which is about the same on most 4-door cars for me specifically.

So, at the end of the day, its a lot of money, but $2466 is the cheaper option of my options right now, just because it's more doable than having to pay for two cars, one of which I can't actually drive anywhere beyond pulling in and pulling out of a parking spot.

None of this is meant in a mean way towards you anon, I just wanna lay out my thought process for this, because you're not to first person to ask me have I considered if it's worth fixing my car when the repair costs so much.

But I digress. I hope your car troubles are able to be resolved! I hope that you're able to get something dependable to drive! <3

[bekolxeram]

Turns out I have a fixer mentality.

No, I don't mean fixing people. I mean literally fixing stuff, electronic gadgets, home appliances, that kind of stuff. (I'm very good at fixing portable mini fans.) My family back then couldn't afford anything other than basic necessities, so we pretty much relied on the kindness of relatives for electronics. (We're the default junk receiver when they wanted an upgrade.) Every time we ran into problems with said electronics, my dad would try his best to fix them, but he was out of his depth most of the time. My mom on the other hand, would immediately start panicking and yell at me for being reckless and breaking stuff, being ungrateful for the kindness of relatives, making her waste money on repairs, and for the supposed potential of killing her one day with my unruliness.

So I started attempting to fix the problems myself one day. I was a dumb kid with no experience or knowledge in electronics, but I figured at least I could try identifying the problems and tell my mom where to go, who to talk to and what to do before she could yell at me. I've been fixing my own laptop and phone ever since. I find the whole experience relaxing, satisfying and educational, which might or might not be related to my childhood trauma but oh well🤷🏻‍♀️ At least I produce less electronic waste than the average urban dweller.

I clumsily spilled liquid all over my mouse the other day (again). I wiped it off as much as I could and left it out to dry over night. It didn't work at all, it went haywire and started making random input on its own whenever I connected it to my laptop.

I should've gotten a new one, I can get a usable one for less than $4, this one is 6 years old anyway. But I woke up this morning with the unstoppable urge of taking it apart and give it one final shot. Luckily it's not very sophisticated, I cleaned out all the dried up gunk, but when I was about to put it back together, I realized I lost a screw.

This is where I'd like to thank my past self. I ordered a bunch of extra screws of different sizes back when I was installing a brand new keyboard on my laptop. (It was a 3 week long headache, I accidentally rounded a lot of screws that ended requiring a dremel to remove.) Past me, you're a lifesaver, you didn't give yourself enough credit.

Yes, the mouse is working now.

[thegreatandpowerfulwas]

okay, so, my thoughts on acnh:

1. love this game, obviously, because i’ve been playing it off and on since release and was totally obsessed when it first came out.

2. that being said, i think the major weaknesses are that the seasonal events are only fun the first time you do them and once all your friends stop playing it feels kinda lonely. (at the same time, a way for the game to still be fun if you restart and no one else is playing anymore would be nice too 😅)

3. so in future installments i would like to see more consistent updates from the devs so it doesn’t start to feel like Hotel California 😆

4. other big wishes are MOAR items (sorry, I played acpc first and was totally spoiled by the variety and volume of items) and also some way to theme more of the island itself, i.e. keep it rustic or turn it more city-like and so on. to that end the paths need to be tooled around with a bit because to make immersive pathing requires so many of the limited custom design slots they give us. biggest ask is curved or diagonal paths built into the game and even more style options for that so we don’t need a billion custom designs, especially something for winter because none of the default paths look good. (epilogue: would also love to be able to put items diagonally and put things like carpets outside and some wall-hanging items) (epilogue’s epilogue: ooh and more flowers, trees, and fruit/veg…)

5. related, i wish the environment would be more reflective of the season, as some things look piled up with snow and others weirdly don’t but if they would extend that to other seasons (leaves on roofs in fall, Sakura petals on roofs in spring, etc) that would really improve the immersion. and ponds freezing over would be awesome!!!

6. smaller qol things like streamlining the dressing room at Able’s would be awesome and also being able to craft multiple things at once.

7. more villager dialogue!! i think making it so they can come to your house or they invite you over was such a cute update but still nothing much happens 😅 also you should be able to put a DND sign up so they can’t barge in while you’re busy lol. related, it would be so cool if you could give villagers jobs and make their houses into businesses (i think that this is the most likely thing to happen in the next game as ik devs have to be seeing A LOT of players doing their best approximation of that right now)

8. more customization options for inside and outside houses. the people long for different windows and doors!

again, i still LOVE this game and i know a lot of hard work went into it and i most definitely got my money’s worth. but a girl still daydreams about the possibilities :’)

[hosttos]

There's one class I'm taking this semester that is actually making me reanalyze my whole life, it's called Digital Electronics 1, doesn't sound very exciting (and it isn't), yet my experience with it has been nothing short of surreal, like The Twilight Zone surreal, it may not seem so from what I'm about to tell, but I'm currently considering the possibility that the devil's messing with me for funsies.

The first couple of classes were as normal as they could be, from time to time this weird geeky teacher would say some things I didn't understand, however pretty much everyone else in the class seemed unphased by them so I didn't think much of it at first. As weeks went by I couldn't help but notice it happened more and more frequently.

This class also has a lab component, which has never been my strong suit, but in this case I thought it'd be much easier since pretty much all work would be on the computer and not an actual lab. It was hell. First two classes or so were meant to install special software in our computers to control a FPGA board (a board whose hardware you can manipulate via software through your computer), I could not for the life of me follow a four step tutorial on how to do it. The tutorial was as good as a tutorial can be, or so I think, but ok the second step I was already losing my mind: files that were supposed to appear didn't exist, lines of code in my computer were blocked for some reason, packages were asking for money even though I had a license already, etc. This went on for two weeks.

After having to talk for hours with the lab assistant I ended up with an erased hard disk running only Linux on my ONLY computer (as opposed to having a half partition for Linux and half for Windows, what it was supposed to be) but most of the required software was running just fine, I thought this was acceptable, nothing I could complain about since I was already two weeks behind on the required lab reports, the teacher said he was flexible with the established dates so I didn't worry much.

When I actually started reading the lab guides my second personal hell started, I understood in full everything I was supposed to do but had absolutely zero idea on how to do it, I gave it a couple of hours at home to try but got nothing from it, before giving up I thought maybe if I was THAT lost I wasn't the only one struggling with it, so I waited for the next class before trying again. I was, apparently, very wrong.

Next class for some reason everyone was having trouble. To be precise, they were all having a problem I did not even understand, and they all had easily overcome the trouble I was having when they faced it. I was so embarrassed I had to wait for the class to end to ask the teacher for help, which she very happily did: she pointed out what was wrong with the hardware description (fancy talk for "code"), manually corrected some things that were keeping my software from running correctly (which I should have noticed) and gave me some general advice. I was so embarrassed to admit I didn't understand any of what she said that I just thanked her and left.

I started sleeping less, some nights I would try to make a sense of what she told me and I could make nothing of it, nada, nothing at all, I understood all the individual words that made up the advice she gave me but the sum of them made no sense in my mind.

Non-lab classes were good though, I understood all the theoretical components and all the topics covered, although from time to time the teacher would zone out for a while and say some truly insane shit I couldn't even begin to grasp the concept of, but since these didn't seem to affect the over all course of the class and I seemed to be the only confused one, things went by just fine.

As weeks went by I got more and more embarrassed just walking into that lab, every week at home I thought I finally made some progress just to find out my labmates had done thrice my work in half the time. But the worst part is how I just stopped understanding anything at all in that lab room, the teacher would explain something and everyone just kind of nodded in agreement for hours at a time, I felt dumber at the end of every class. I tried asking friends, they seemed as cursed as the teacher, with all the goodness in their hearts they'd start explaining things to me but at that moment my brain would lock completely and no knowledge could come in, I could tell they meant well, they were very nice too, and explained in very simple terms, it is absolutely clear at this point the problem is me.

I spent most of my class time wondering how all these people understood so well a programming language none of us were familiar with. They just went along with it, it was easy for them, and it seemed easy too, none of the reports required more than 20 or so lines of code to work. But once I stared at the screen for one hour trying to understand what the first 10 lines of code meant, I saw YouTube tutorials and Reddit forums looking for help, but it just didn't click.

I finished 4 lab reports in 8 weeks, a true miracle considering I didn't understand most of them. The remainder of the semester is to be spent making a project based on all we learned, and as such, the lab teacher would only be available for advice regarding the project. I tried to be optimistic about this.

First class that was meant to be spent solving problems about said project (a Tamagotchi). I went in with the hopes of asking for help but when I saw some of the other projects and how advanced they were I died a little. Some people asked some questions that seemed so much more advanced than mine I just couldn't bring myself to ask, I'm normally not so shy about asking teachers for help but this was different, my question really seemed like an offense to ask at that point. I felt the strongest need to leave that room I had just walked into five minutes prior.

At this point I feel like I'm truly losing my mind, I can't walk into that class and not feel I'm the dumbest person in the room, sometimes I even feel they're all aware of it too, I don't think it's the way they look at me, because as I said they're all very nice, but I can't help but feel they are all acting like they don't notice the toddler in the room that wants to act like an adult.

I couldn't take the psychological damage I was getting from that class so I started working on the project at home, not nearly as fast as I'm supposed to but I got some things accomplished eventually. When time came to test things I was not so surprised when nothing worked.

I made several attempts to get things running without any success at all, a few weeks went by and I finally asked for help from a classmate. She lent me some code and, fascinatingly enough, her code did exactly the same thing as mine, the only difference being hers does work. So I tried her code on my computer and, surprise, it didn't on mine. I'm absolutely certain all my components work (because I had to replace some) and my computer and the board both work fine because I actually ran stuff from the labs on it, so no reasonable explanation so far.

Once again I feel like the universe just fucking hates me, and the fucker knows where to hit me for maximum effect, I see that fucking code in my dreams, I can't sleep at night thinking about it, there is a leprechaun living on my walls changing my connections and ruining my code everytime I look away as a running joke for an audience I can't see. It's going to be the last thing I see before I die, I know for sure.

This class is nothing different to what I have taken before, the required courses to take the class I passed with high grades even, it can't be such a jump, and it isn't apparently. Most people seem okay with this class, some of my friends have taken it already and said it was a pretty tame experience?!?but I'm on the verge of insanity and nothing a person in that class says can seem to help me in any way. I'm truly on the verge of something fundamental in me changing, I don't want to know what and I especially don't want it to happen.