#class 2 computer quiz

[rashmislearningplanet]

Class 6 : Cyber Olympiad Quiz | PART - 1 | 24 Important Questions | Oswaal Books | Computer Quiz

[covenofagatha]

The Psychology of Love (Part 2)

The Perfume

Agatha shows you some examples of projective tests to clear up the questions you have

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: none

On Wednesday, you can hardly look at Agatha when you walk into class. 

The shame from Monday night—from thinking about your professor while another girl fucked you—is too great, and you worry that if you make eye contact, she’ll somehow know what you did. You need to be careful with her.

After you had cum, the girl from the party had asked if you wanted to go back to her dorm with her. You could taste the blood on your lip from how hard you were biting it, because you didn’t know her name and you didn’t want to accidentally say a wrong name. She had shrugged when you shook your head apologetically and she walked away, leaving you to go stumble and find Wanda and Nat. 

You are definitely never going back to that sorority again. With any luck, you’ll never have to see that girl again. 

“Since we didn’t have time on Monday for introductions, let’s go around the room and say your name, major, and what you like to do for fun,” Agatha says. You inwardly groan; you’d rather take a pop quiz than have to do icebreakers. One of your least favorite things to do, possibly ever, is talk in class. 

She points to the girl at the end of your row on the other side to start it off. Your palms grow sweaty, your stomach twists, and you begin to chew on your thumb nail. 

The names of your classmates go in one ear and out the other and when it’s your turn, it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. You stammer out your introduction, risking a glance at Agatha when you’re done, and she’s staring back at you with a dark, hot glint in her eye. 

You swallow roughly and train your gaze forward, the memory of thinking of her the other night—wishing it was her?—still fresh in your mind. 

“All right, let’s get into it then,” Agatha claps her hands once everyone’s gone. There’s significantly less people in the room than there were on Monday, so it doesn’t take long. She stands up and pulls the keyboard of the computer closer to her and you sneak a peek at her. 

Her dark navy pencil skirt is long, stopping mid-calf and she’s wearing black heels that must be killing her feet. Her blouse is a sky-blue color with puffy sleeves with a belt that matches her skirt and accentuates her hips. There’s an open space between the top button and the second button on her shirt, and you can see a sliver of her pale skin. Her dark curly hair is in a loose ponytail and her cheekbones are sharp. Your mouth goes dry now that you’re really taking her in.

As if she knows you’re staring at her, Agatha’s lips quirk up and her eyes meet yours. She winks and you quickly look away and take out your notebook and a pen. 

Agatha opens a slideshow titled Trait Theory. “The main question this approach looks at is ‘do individuals possess specific personality constructs?’—and to what extent? Like we talked about last class, personality is a construct. The only evidence for it is what we’ve measured in tests that we’ve created. 

“Personality testing is a big business and it’s used for a lot of different things: counseling, education, forensics, employment—even all of you use it in your everyday life just by assessing people. Some tests measure one trait while others measure multiple.” 

It’s hypnotic to listen to her talk and you realize how easy and practiced her words are. You’ve had professors that stumble over their lectures or who read off the slides the whole time, but not Agatha. The review that said she was a genius was not lying.

She clicks to the next slide and a picture of a pattern of inkblots appears. “Projective tests are based on Freudian ideas; the subject is shown ambiguous stimuli and it’s based on the idea that the subject’s responses reflect their inner feelings—they project onto the test. The Rorschach Inkblot Test has subjects scrutinize cards with ink and talk about what they see with the colors and details.” 

The next slide has a picture of a woman standing outside a door with a hand on her face. In the room, a man is lying in a bed. “This is an example from the Thematic Apperception Test. Everyone might interpret this picture differently—some think she found him having an affair, some may think she found him dead, some may think she killed him. It’s all about relating your personal experiences to what you see and that gives psychologists an insight to your inner thoughts and feelings.” 

You think back to the picture of the house and family she had everyone draw on Monday. It was definitely a projection of your own struggles and she had seen that. 

It does really make sense. Except for the inkblot tests—how can your interpretation of a couple of drops on a page mean anything?

“Projective tests have very low validity. Can anyone remind us of what that means?” 

Agatha’s eyes scan the room. Once again, no one raises their hand and you chew on the tip of your pen until you feel her gaze stop on you. You risk a glance at her to find her staring expectantly at you. 

Your stomach twists. You do really hate talking in class. “Validity is how accurate the test is measuring what it’s supposed to be measuring.” Luckily, you paid attention in General Psychology when you took it freshman year. 

“Very good,” she hums and your cheeks heat up, a pleasant feeling settling in your gut. “I’m going to hope that the rest of you were too shy to say something and didn’t just forget. Yes, projective tests have very low validity, especially predictive validity. Objective tests are much better. These are tests in which someone answers ‘true’ or ‘false’ or you rate your experiences on a number scale. Tests like the Big Five. Anyone know any other objective tests for personality traits?” 

Her gaze lands on you even quicker, but this time you’re ready for it. “The Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory?” You sound much more confident and you feel much less nervous.

Agatha beams. “Right again. That one measures about ten primary traits, but you won’t need to know them for your test. You do need to know that the Big Five Personality Test measures extroversion, openness, conscientiousness, agreeableness, and neuroticism though.”

A burn spreads through your hand at how fast you’re scribbling things down and you hear furious typing behind you. You can’t get her praise out of your head and you think speaking up and answering questions might not be so bad after all.

Despite your shame after Monday night, you still desperately want Agatha’s attention. It seems that she likes you at least a little. 

It’s hard to tell if you’re projecting your own feelings onto this. 

“All right, that’s all the time we have for today. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me them right now or during my office hours. Those are posted on the syllabus. Stop in to see me anytime,” Agatha announces, smirking at you when you accidentally meet her eyes. 

The questions about the Rorschach tests are still weighing on your mind, and as much as you’re tempted to leave and google them later, there’s a little voice that’s nagging for you to go ask her. 

So you trudge up to the desk, chewing on your nails, and wait there awkwardly. Agatha’s typing something on the computer but her face brightens when she looks at you and your heart leaps. 

“Do you need something, hon?” she asks and you ignore the heat that rises inside you. 

“Yeah, I’m just a little confused on the inkblot tests. Like, how are they analyzed? Does it really matter if someone sees a bat or a vase or whatever? How does that mean anything?”

She nods and beckons you to follow her when she begins walking out of the classroom. “Great question. I’m really happy that you’re wondering about these things and you’re not afraid to talk to me about them. I also really appreciate you answering questions during my lecture. Keep up the good work,” she says, playfully winking with a smile. Your stomach warms—you definitely will. 

Her perfume drifts into your nostrils from your close proximity as she leads you down the hall and your cunt starts to pulse. From the praise, from the smell, from her…you’re not quite sure. 

Maybe all three. 

Agatha pauses outside of a door with her name on it before fumbling to put the key in the lock. She opens it and steps to the side to let you go in first. Her office is spacious, with a desk and a chair facing the doorway, two chairs on the other side of it, and a couch pushed next to a bookshelf on the wall opposite the one with a window. 

You perch on a chair while she sits down in hers and ruffles around in a desk drawer before pulling a stack of cards out and plopping them down in front of you. They’re inkblots—some in black and white, some in color. 

She shuffles through them and points to the one on top. “What does this look like to you?” 

Leaning closer, your brows furrow as you try to make out the shape. It looks vaguely like lips, symmetrical down the middle and pink along the jagged edges. The color bleeds to red to make a smaller oval shape on the inside. 

It very much looks like a vulva. 

Heat floods through your cheeks as you sit back and clear your throat. There’s no way you’re telling your hot professor that. “I don’t know, I guess I can kind of make out a…butterfly?” Agatha snorts at your obvious lie. 

“You can say it, hon. It looks like a cunt.” You gasp and choke on nothing, feeling your underwear get damp. Agatha gives you a wicked smile. “Now, what does that mean? Does it mean that you like women? Does it mean that you’re thinking about sex?” 

Her scent coupled with her talking about that makes you spin and you grip the arms of the chair tightly. If you weren’t thinking about sex before, you definitely are now. 

You wonder what your professor tastes like. 

Agatha shrugs casually to answer her own question. “Probably doesn’t mean much. There’s some research that people with schizophrenia tend to see monsters in these. But if you see animals, does it mean that you’re depressed—or do you just like animals? The point is, these hold probably the least amount of validity compared to any projective tests. I wouldn’t read too much into it.” 

The fact that she brought you all the way here, made you look at the suggestive cards, just for it to not matter has you reeling. What does it mean? 

“Oh. Okay. I guess I was just confused about how they’re interpreted. Thought I would ask. It is really interesting how we can infer stuff like that off of this, though. Even if the predictive validity is low.” 

She nods. “As much as people hate Freud, it’s hard to deny that he wasn’t wrong about everything. Projective tests might not hold empirical value, but people do tend to transfer their feelings onto pictures and whatnot because it’s easier to separate their feelings from it and talk about it that way.” 

To highlight her point, Agatha pulls another paper out of her drawer. It must be an example from the Thematic Apperception Test. It’s a picture of two women, facing each other, in a dark hallway. One has an arm outstretched, the other is half-tilted away and looking at the ground.

“What’s happening in this scene?”

“This girl—” You point to the one with the cold body language, “—is wishing she was with someone else. Her girlfriend is really trying to connect with her, but it’s not working.” A cold feeling spreads through you at how transparent you just were. Your eyes dart around the room before meeting Agatha’s, who’s looking at you with a knowing gaze and you feel your stomach tighten. It doesn't mean anything, you tell yourself. She doesn’t know. 

“Very good,” she purrs and leans in closer. “That’s a perfectly reasonable interpretation. I see two students arguing about their professor. See how it varies?”

Just as you’re opening your mouth to agree, the door to her office opens. You whirl around like you just got caught doing something wrong to find a girl older than you standing there, with dark hair, pale skin, and hazel eyes. She’s wearing a green shirt and jeans and she regards you cautiously as she walks slowly across Agatha’s office to sit in the chair next to you. 

When you turn back to Agatha, there’s a glint on her face. “This is Rio. I had her a few years ago and now she’s one of my graduate students and my TA for your class,” she tells you and you awkwardly smile and nod at the new woman. 

Rio doesn’t even look at you. It feels like you’re interrupting something.

So you clap your hands on your knees and stand up. “Thanks, Professor. I’ll see you on Friday?” 

Agatha hums. “I’ll see you then, hon. Good job in class today.” 

You walk out, heart pounding, and have to take a moment to collect yourself. Your plan of being careful around your professor has nearly gone entirely out the window—you’ve become addicted to her praise and validation. Is it because of your mommy issues? Because she’s hot? 

Either way, you amble out of the psychology building and through the Student Union on the way back to your dorm, determined to pour over the textbook and learn everything you can about the Trait approach before Friday. You can wistfully imagine Agatha cooing about how proud she is that you’re studying up and how much you’ve impressed her. 

But before you can walk out of the Student Union, the smell of coffee from the bagel shop hits you and you stop dead in your tracks. It’s not Agatha’s perfume exactly, but the effect it has on you is undeniable. 

Very good. Keep up the good work. Right again. Good job in class today. 

Her praises swirl around in your mind, clear as day, and you quickly shoulder open the door to the outside so hard that it makes your arm ache. You bite at your thumbnail but the smell still lingers, her voice still haunts you. There’s a growing stickiness between your legs that you feel with each step you take.

It looks like a cunt. 

Good girl. 

You jolt—she’s never called you that. She wouldn’t call you that. Your descent into madness is concerning and her perfume is at the center of it. Is it too late to drop her class? Would she be mad at you?

But you can’t do that, because you’re a senior and you need this class to graduate. So you either have to pretend like your cunt isn’t throbbing at the thought of her calling you a good girl, or you need to get it out of your system. You could find the girl from the other night, you could go back to the sorority and ask around for her name. She was hot, fucked you well enough, and smelled like your professor. 

She could be a healthy way to sort out your feelings and stop obsessing over your professor. There’s a hint of guilt nagging at your brain for essentially using her, but maybe in time you’d grow to really like her. 

It turns out, you don’t have to wait that long to find her again. 

You’re in the dining hall with Wanda and Nat while they fill you in on their days—Wanda’s racist professor made a racist comment and Nat’s biology professor accidentally said “orgasm” instead of “organism”—when you notice that Wanda keeps looking over your shoulder. 

“What?” you ask, craning your neck back and scanning the crowds of students getting dinner, but you don’t see anything out of the ordinary. 

Wanda nods toward someone and subtly points in their direction. “That girl…she keeps looking over at us.” 

This time, you look closer and find the girl from the party on Monday staring at you. She’s sitting at a table all by herself, her laptop opened in front of her next to a plate of pizza. Your breathing freezes and you turn back to your friends. “We may have hooked up at the party the other day,” you tell them sheepishly. Both of them gasp excitedly. 

“Why is this the first we’re hearing of this?” Nat demands. 

Your cheeks flush. “I don’t know, it was just a one time thing, I didn’t think I’d see her again. It wasn’t a big deal.” 

“She clearly thinks it was,” Wanda teases. “She’s been checking you out since we sat down. Go talk to her.” 

Groaning in protest, you shake your head but they keep pestering until you get up just to make them stop. You drag your feet against the tile as you walk over to the girl and even though you had convinced yourself that she would be a good thing for you earlier, doubt starts to gnaw at you. 

“Um, hey, can I sit?” you ask, pointing at the empty chair across from her. 

She nods and closes her computer, giving you her full attention, but doesn’t say anything. 

So you start. “About the other night, I’m sorry. I think we both just got a little carried away.” You introduce yourself, since you still don’t know each other’s names, and reach out your hand across the table. 

“I’m Morgan,” she says and shakes your hand. Her skin is soft and you can’t help but wonder what Agatha’s feels like. “You don’t have to apologize. It was a party, we were both a little tipsy, I’m sure.” 

Her perfume floats around you and makes you think about your professor again and you hate the way it makes you feel. “Cool, yeah, okay.” The awkwardness after a college hookup is something you could do without for the rest of your life. “Would you want to get dinner sometime?” 

Morgan grins. “I’d really like that. I can give you my number?” 

You nod and pull out your phone, handing it to her so she can put in her contact. She gives it back to you and you stand up from the table. “Awesome, I guess I’ll be seeing you later.” 

“Perfect.” 

As you’re walking away, a thought overcomes your body and you have no choice but to turn back around. Morgan raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, this might be a weird question, but what perfume do you wear?” 

She falters for a moment. “Um, I think it’s called Black Opium. Why?” 

“No reason,” you answer hastily and quickly smile before walking back over to Nat and Wanda, who have been watching you the whole time. 

“So?” Wanda prompts once you sit back down and pick up your fork. You shovel pasta into your mouth to delay answering. 

Black Opium. 

It’s very Agatha. Dark, euphoric, addicting. 

“Don’t leave us in suspense,” Nat eggs you on. “Are you guys girlfriends now? Going to hook up with her again after this?”

Your nose wrinkles. “No, I just asked her if she’d want to get dinner sometime. She said yes and gave me her number.” 

Their synchronized “Oooh” makes you roll your eyes. No surprise they’re making a big deal about it. This is the first time you’ve actually had a date since your ex-girlfriend three years ago. 

Does this really count though?

You mull what a relationship with Morgan might look like and try to keep your thoughts from steering to Agatha while you zone out on Wanda and Nat talking about the homework they have. 

After you finish the rest of your dinner, you walk back to your dorm building with both of them. Out of the corner of your eye, you see their hands brushing against each other and you feel the same longing pang in your chest that you always do when you’re with them. 

Something like that would be possible with Morgan. 

But even the delusion that Agatha would like you like that outweighs the potential for something real with someone your own age. 

“I’m going to crash with Nat tonight,” Wanda says, bumping into you to get your attention. 

“Remember to be safe,” you respond solemnly. Wanda and Nat both snort and give you a hug before they part ways with you. 

When you get back to your room, you grab your laptop from your bag and plop onto your bed with it. The first thing you do is type your professor’s name into Google. 

A few things pop up, mostly just articles about her teaching at Westview University and you find some of her publications. There’s a few pictures of her from dinners and awards and her official university headshot. No mention of a family or a partner, though. You wonder if she would put something like that online. It seems like she’d probably want to keep that private. 

The link to her reviews is about the fifth site on the page and you decide to scroll through them again. There’s a few that were added from two days ago and you’re sure they’re from the people that dropped your class. You’re re-reading them and wincing at how mean some of them are, taking them more personally now that you know her, when you pause on one. 

You saw it the other day, but you didn’t think too much about it. 

If you’re lucky to be one of her favorites, you’re going to do just fine in the class. She can be very creative and maybe a little unorthodox when it comes to her methods of helping you understand something, but they’re very effective. 

It’s not the review itself that makes you intrigued—it’s the name of the person who left it. 

Rio V. 

This must be her TA that you met earlier. The one who didn’t seem to like you very much, for no reason. You make a mental note to keep an eye on her, if you see her again, and open a new tab. 

You type in “Black Opium” and click on the first brand of perfume you see. Chewing on your lip, you hover the mouse over the Add to cart button. It’s one-hundred dollars, way too much to buy just because the professor you’re becoming obsessed with wears it. 

But Agatha’s praises echo around in your head and you feel a fire stoking to life in your stomach. The dull heat becomes more and she’s all you can think about. 

She’s all you want. 

You buy the perfume. 

Part Three

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[clairewritesfanfics]

Villain Creation System Chapter 3

Pairing/s: Invincible x Reader x Invincible Variants

CHAPTER 2: Tutorial Mission START Series Masterlist <<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>

For a fake world, the chemistry lecture here was as dull as the real one’s. 

After Mark disappeared to who knows where, you resumed life as a college student and went to class. Biochemistry, a fascinating subject, but the teacher had a voice that could put dragons to sleep. Compared to your philosophy professor, the man detailing the steps to the citric acid cycle spoke without a change in his inflection and was less “discussing” and “more reading from his powerpoint.” 

It was a good thing you–this version of you–took up philosophy. The so-called “hard sciences” are fun, but being human means having limited time, and when buttloads of information is crammed into you without time for processing and then quizzed, the fun tends to diminish. 

The bell rang.

“I will upload the modules for the next session by tonight, and don’t forget to answer the formative quiz for today’s lecture. Have a good day, everyone.” 

You opened your planner. This was the last class for today, and there didn’t seem to be anything else written here, only this semester’s schedule. 

Huh.

[Accurate to the real thing, I’d say.]

“If that is a jab at me then you’re wasting your breath, or whatever energy you use to talk.” You didn’t like social engagements. It would seem this version of you was the same. Good. At least you didn’t have to worry about making small talk with strangers. You had this body’s memories, but they were limited, imperfect. 

“What should we do now?” You asked, walking out of the auditorium. 

[That is up to the Host. ]

[Your will is my will.]

“Is that your way of telling me you’re not gonna help me?”

[ ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ]

You rolled your eyes and opened your phone. The list of contacts you had were straightforward; parents, several family members, some old classmates and friends. Vague figures in the back of this brain’s memory. The system told you not to bother contacting any of them. [It would be pointless] was its reply when you inquired why. 

You checked the apps. Facebook was a thing here but Twitter was replaced by “Z” and Youtube was “WeTV.” A lot of the creators “you” followed were news outlets.

You clicked a WeTV link to a livestream report of a monster attack in Australia, then another in Brazil, and one in the Philippines.

“Geez.” You were never going to complain about being bored again. “Those poor people.”

[Look on the bright side, Host, here the destruction of nations can be blamed on an external threat rather than the political leaders. In your reality, you humans have no one else to blame but yourselves.]

Spoken in a robotic voice with a cheery lilt. It seemed genuine in its attempt to comfort you, so you bit your tongue and continued scrolling.

Monsters, villains, more monsters, more villains. Hundreds of people injured, dozens dead.

Just then, a light bulb went off in your head. “I think I know what I’m supposed to do now.”

The dorm was too far so you went to the campus library. You found a vacant computer near the wall, far from prying eyes. 

[Resorting to cyberstalking, I see.]

“Before I can make him snap, I need to figure out what makes him tick.” 

Judging from his socials, Mark’s popular, not just as Invincible, but as Mark Grayson. He was on the debate team back in high school, played bass at a band called Indigo Muse, and, if the many, many, many posts about him were anything to go by, he was well-loved by the ladies.

When you couldn’t find any family pictures, you decided to study his superhero identity. 

This world’s Invincible wore a black suit with blue accents. Most pictures of him were blurred, which was either on purpose or incredibly fortunate, because he didn’t wear a mask or cowl. 

UNKNOWN SUPER SAVES BUS OF TEENS

NEW SUPERHERO RISES THE RANKS

INVINCIBLE HELPS OLD LADY DOWN THE STREET

Going by the news articles, he’s been a hero for a mere four months. “No wonder the corruption meter is mostly empty.” You’ve seen this play out before, not in Invincible , but in various coming of age stories. This Mark was a fledgling. His morals were still intact, but judging from that 3%, he’s starting to see that the world of superheroes isn’t squeaky clean.

You pushed down the pity in your chest and continued with your research.

From what you can tell, the professional supes were employed by the Global Defense Agency aka the GDA. The veteran heroes were known as the Guardians of the Globe, and there was the Teen Team, composed of younger heroes. Invincible wasn’t part of either. He assisted both groups in the past, usually to evacuate civilians. 

No interviews, no press conferences. 

He was surprisingly mysterious. With how much of a flirt he was, you thought for sure he would be the showboating type, but judging from the poorly recorded videos of him zooming around, he did his job quickly and left before news reporters could hound him. 

There were only so many news articles and blog posts about him before you realized there was nothing else to study. 

You opened your notebook and made a summary of everything you knew so far:

Womanizer

Doesn’t remember me from childhood

English major *shares same philosophy class

Bass player 

Debuted as a hero four months ago

Not part of a team

Popular as civilian and hero 

Home life?

You circled the last item on your list several times. Try as you might, Mark’s parents were mysteries to you. Omni-Man disappeared ten years ago and you had nothing on Debbie Grayson. Her son didn’t have her as a friend on Facebook and he had zero pictures of him and parents.

“Not even a hint?” You asked the system.

System: (づ_ど)

Giving up, you decide to switch topics and begin digitizing your lecture notes.

[You’re actually studying?]

“Not like I have anything better to do. I can’t exactly hack into the Pentagon’s database and my head hurts from all that research, and since someone refuses to be useful, I’m stuck on what to do now.”

[...]

The system fell quiet and let you be.

The minutes flew by as you typed.

“Excuse me.” A feminine voice whispered and your knee jerked against the table.

You gasped in pain, earning a few looks from the neighboring students. 

“Sorry,” the snooper said.

[Ding. The character known as Amber Bennett has made contact.]

No kidding! Couldn’t you have warned me that she was here!?

[Host looked so deeply invested in studying that this system did not wish to disturb you.]

[Fufufu.]

Rubbing your knee, you met Amber’s apologetic eyes. “I didn’t mean to spook you, but uh, your typing’s… a little loud.”

Ah. That would explain the hard glares from some of the people here. “Sorry, I got too excited I guess. I’ll keep it down.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at your desk. “By the way, I can’t help but notice, you're in Professor Gonzales’ class, right?”

When she saw your brows crease in confusion, she added, “Biochemistry?”

“Oh, yeah.” 

“We share the same class then, I’m Amber Bennett.”

“I know.”

She blinked, wide-eyed.

You quickly added, “You’re one of the scholarship students. I saw the university page congratulating you.”

“Yeah, um, about that…” She turned to your monitor. “Your notes are easy to follow. Especially compared to the professor’s powerpoint.”

“I try.”

She grabbed her shoulder. “This is gonna sound weird but are you available for tutoring?”

“Tutoring?”

There was a collective “shhh” from all directions and Amber ducked her head.

“See, I’ve been struggling with chemistry since the first day and I’ve never failed before, but–”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

You nodded.

She beamed. “That’s great! I think we’re already in the same group chat for the freshmen course but just in case–” She pulled out a pen and you pushed a blank page towards her. She scribbled her number.

“I’ll pay you, of course.”

“Sure, we can talk about details some other time.”

“I really appreciate this–”

You gave her your name and her smile brightened. “You’re a lifesaver! I should go now before the rest of the library decides to crucify us both.”

You raised your hand in goodbye and then picked up your notebook.

No, Amber, you’re the lifesaver here.

***

That evening, Amber asked to meet with you at the campus coffee shop. 

The Coffee Mug, more colloquially known as The Mug, was three storeys high and looked far more interesting than any Starbucks you’ve been to. Cubist and art deco paintings lined the bare brick walls, contrasting the wood and iron furniture. Bossa nova jazz played from the ceiling speakers.

“I gotta hand it to the author, or whoever, whatever made this place, they know how to design a good-looking cafe.”

You almost didn’t mind that the person who asked for your help was already eight minutes late. 

You were getting impatient, mostly because it was seven o’clock and you still haven’t had dinner. You had a black coffee to stave off the hunger pangs, but the scent of toasted savory pastries and the sight of cake called out to you like a siren. 

[Just order, Host, don’t tell me you’re waiting for Amber so she could pay.]

“What do you take me for?” You harrumphed. “I’d love to, but it would be rude to start eating without her.”

[!!]

[Really? How so?]

You shrugged.

“But drinking is okay?”

“Yes.”

[You humans sure do like making things harder for yourselves.]

“Tell me about it.”

God, where the Hell is she? 

As you started debating whether manners were truly necessary, your phone pinged. It was Amber. 

Hey, are u at the cafe?

Im so sorry, my group meeting decided to have overtime.

I wired u some money, dinner’s on me. sorry again! 

Well, damn. Guess God does listen. 

Spirits lifted, you got up and practically skipped towards the menu. This place might’ve been called a coffee shop, it had a big menu not unlike a diner’s, and the food selection was listed with colorful chalk on giant blackboards hanging behind the counter. 

You’ve been thinking about what to eat even while you were at the table. But even now you weren’t sure what to get. A sandwich and salad combo? The lasagna? Maybe something from their all-day breakfast? 

[Ding.]

“I recommend their three-cheese omelette.”

You barely had to turn your head to find Mark’s chin hovering over your shoulder. Soft dark bangs tickled your cheek.

“Mark.”

“Gorgeous.” He winked and then approached the counter.

The girl handling the cashier noticed him and her surprise turned to coyness as she pushed back a pink strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. “Hey, Mark.” If this were a cartoon you’d imagine her eyes would be in the shape of hearts right now. 

You couldn’t blame her. Looking around the floor, a mix of subtle and unsubtle staring were aimed at Mark. You understood. Six feet, jet black hair, strong biceps, a pretty waist that led to the most callipygous butt you’ve ever seen. 

That being said, you’d rather not get into the habit of ogling at rear ends without permission, so you walked closer and stood beside him.

Mark leaned onto the counter, flashing a flirtatious smile. “Hey, Kelsey. Can I get my usual, for dine-in, and an om–”

“I’ll get the large grilled chicken salad with honey mustard and one medium choco mint frappe.”

Mark snorted, but didn’t say anything else as he handed her a few dollars.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be like that, consider this my olive branch.”

“For what?”

“For cutting our date short and not walking you home.”

“First of all, that wasn’t a date, because if it was, then your standards need quality control. Secondly, it wasn’t like I needed to come home. I still had classes.” 

Not wanting to third-wheel, Kelsey put Mark’s change on the small metal plate beside the register and hurried off to prepare the orders.

Without skipping a beat, Mark put the change in the tip box. “Then what is your ideal date?”

You tilted your head.

“You said my standards need to improve, but how do I know yours is any good?”

“I guess you don’t.” You crossed your arms. 

His grin turned mischievous. “Let me guess, you want a fancy dinner? No, you don’t seem like the type who dresses up frequently. I know, is it this cafe? Are coffee shops your thing? Bookish girls like these kinds of places.”

You turned on your heels. “I’m ignoring you now.”

Folding his hands behind him, he trailed after you, remaining two steps behind, pretending like he couldn’t outpace you with those long legs of his.

“Wait, is that why you’re here? You’re waiting for a date?” He watched you take a seat. “That can’t be it though, who orders before their date?”

Refusing to look at him, you opened your phone as you expressed your gratitude, “Thank you for paying, now would you kindly get lost?”

[Host, what are you doing? This is the perfect time to seduce him.]

Yeah, not happening. I need to be five kinds of drunk before I even consider– “What are you doing?” 

He slid into the seat across from yours. “Hey, I’m hungry too.”

“There are other tables, y’know.”

He cocked his eyebrow and you briefly scanned the room. Right. This was a university cafe. Dammit. He did pay for your food, and he wasn’t totally obnoxious to warrant a kick out. 

With a sigh, you opted to just ignore him and kept refreshing your phone.

“So, are you going to study here?”

“...”

“The music’s pretty nice, if a little basic.” 

“...”

“I can’t really stand music when I’m studying, or the sound of people talking. When I’m reading, I’m reading. When I’m listening to music, that’s all I’m going to do. I guess I’m not a multitasker, I like to think of myself as–”

You slammed twenty-five dollars on the table. “Please take this and leave.”

He put his elbows on the table and leaned closer. “Nah.”

Ugh.

“What do you want from me?”

He flexed his arm and leaned his chin on the palm of his hand. “Tell me why else you’re here.”

“To eat dinner.”

“And?”

“To study.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You want me to leave, don’t you?”

“...I have an appointment.”

“Is the appointment romantic in nature?”

“Not even a little bit. It’s purely academic, and I’d like to keep it confidential, so could you–”

Kelsey arrived holding two trays. “One large grilled chicken salad with one medium choco mint frappe, and one freshly toasted cheese and sausage eggdesal[1] with a cup of black coffee.”

“Thanks, Kels, but you didn’t have to bring it here, I would’ve gotten it.” Mark said. 

She giggled, “Nah, it’s the least I could do. It’s not everyday you stay here to eat.”

“Well, I still feel bad since the place is packed.”

“It’s my pleasure. We’re not super busy right now since most of the students here just buy one drink for their whole stay.”

“You’re a doll.”

“Enjoy your meal.” She smiled at both of you and returned to her station.

He took a sip of the coffee. “Sweet girl, that one. You know, she’s a physics major–”

“How do you do that?”

His lashes flickered over the rim of the cup.

“How can you… charm people so effortlessly?”

Foamy coffee squirted through his mouth and nose and onto his sandwich. Luckily for you, you reflexively pulled your plate back just in time.

You pulled out the pack of tissue you kept in your backpack and slid it towards him. 

He patted his chest and coughed into the tissues. 

You folded your hands over the table and waited patiently for him to regain his bearings. Once his coughing calmed down, you asked, “Well?”

“Wow. You…wow.”

“It’s a genuine question, I think I deserve a genuine answer.” If it weren’t for your unique circumstance, you would have folded like a cheap hooker if Mark Grayson approached you the way he did after the philosophy lecture. The rest of your brain would’ve had no chances in overriding your hypothalamus. Or your loins. 

“I don’t know where to begin, I–”

“Mark?” 

Amber was here.

“Wow,” he breathed, attention switching from Amber to you. “You really did have a meeting.”

She looked baffled but there was no trace of anger or anything. “Why’re you here, Mark? You hate eating here.” 

“I was just about to leave.” He picked up his sandwich. “See ya, girls.” And with that, he departed, leaving you alone with Amber, who was–according to past posts–his ex-girlfriend. 

Amber laid her bag on the now empty chair. “Sorry for being late, I didn’t expect us to take two hours deciding on how to divide a simple report on childhood obesity.”

“It’s okay, ‘cause of you I just found my second favorite place.” The first will always be your bedroom. 

Amber twiddled with her fingers as you poured the honey mustard over the salad.

“Mark didn’t, I mean, he–”

“I didn’t tell him about the tutoring,” you reassured her. “I didn’t know if you wanted people to know, I just told him it was for school.”

“Really? Thank you! But that’s not what I was going to say.” She cleared her throat. “How do you know Mark?”

“We attend the same philosophy class.”

She looked everywhere except your gaze. “This probably isn’t any of my business, but you seem like a nice person so you should know that Mark doesn’t do the girlfriend thing.”

You used your fork to toss your salad. “I see.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, he isn’t evil or anything. He’s a sweet guy, it’s just that, he isn’t boyfriend material.”

You nodded. “Thanks for telling me.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Good, good. Listen, if you do want to hook up with him, that’s totally your call, I just thought I should tell you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be too busy for a boyfriend, anyway. Thanks, I really do appreciate it.”

Mark Grayson? Please. Not even in a hundred lifetimes. 

[ Ding. ]

You dropped your fork.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, my hand slipped,” you muttered, trying not to gawk at the system’s holographic screen.

[Affection: 12%. Darkening: 3%.]

Glossary: [1] eggdesal: an egg sandwich that uses pandesal, a sweet and salty bread roll. It can be served plain with just the egg (either with scrambled or over easy), or with other fillings like bacon, sausages, and/or cheese.

@weponxwrites @ratkidcalledallie @qxuanii @lilacoaks

CHAPTER 4: Just Cut Their Red Thread of Fate Series Masterlist

MASTERLIST | request rules | ask box

[azsazz]

Over Ice (Part 9)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3178

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Notes: ughhhh. i don't like this part. fml

_________________________________________

Annoyance courses through your veins when Rhys’ phone buzzes against the tabletop again. The devilish device has been blowing up with messages since before your tutoring session had even begun, as soon as Rhys walked into the room with a mumbled greeting, fully immersed in the device.

Each vibration has slowly chipped away at your feeble concentration. You quickly lost focus on studying, and you’ve had to re-read the same paragraph three times over, restarting every single time he received a new message. Not a single fact has clicked in your head, and the urge to collapse in defeat is all too tempting right now.

Rhysand is in no way phased by your unpleasant aura and blatant glares. His laptop is open, eyes glued to the screen as his fingertips fly across the keyboard. He has a paper due at nine in the morning, and although he’s known about it since the end of last week, between tutoring you, the Halloween party, hockey practices, and games, he’s up to his ears busy.

But he wanted to see you.

He’d spent all week thinking about you. During practice, he’d found himself glancing up into the bleachers, looking for you, hoping he’d catch a peek of you in that sinfully butchered jersey of his. That reminds him, he needs to get you a new one because you’re more than distracting in that scrap of fabric.

He’d searched for you the same way at the away game the Bat’s had this week, even though he knew you weren’t in the building at all, weren’t even in the same city.

And psychology is fucking ruined for him. He thinks about you the most when he’s sitting in class, staring at the lecture slides he should be copying down. It’s a good thing that the information comes so easily to him, otherwise he’s pretty sure he’d be fucked with the amount of time spent daydreaming about how your lips felt on his, soft, shy, intimate.

“You know, if I’m keeping you from something,” you finally say, snapping Rhys from his paper. It’s hard to keep the annoyance out of your tone but the surprise on his face, the way his brows knit together in confusion has a pang of guilt stabbing you in the chest. Clutching your pen in your grasp only helps a little. “We don’t have to do this tonight.”

You refrain from admitting that you really do need his help tonight due to the quiz you have coming up later this week. It’s the only night he’s available to tutor you, with his hectic schedule. Right now, his presence is more distracting than it is helpful, and from where you sit across the table, you can tell that he’s stressed.

It’s in the way that he runs his fingers through his jet-black hair, tugging on the roots when whatever he’s typed doesn’t make sense. You know this is his tell because it’s followed by the prominent clicks of the backspace key for each letter he removes. Clack. Clack. Clack.

You can fully see the exhaustion written on his face, the circles beneath his violet eyes, and how every so often you’ve caught him rubbing his fists into his eyes. The bruise on his jaw looks better than it had the last time you saw him, splotches of yellow-green dust the area instead of the deep purple coloring it was when the injury was fresh.

He must see your frustration on your face because his shoulders drop in shame.

“What? No, I’m here,” he insists, shoving his computer away from him. Yeah, maybe a break is what he needs. Shame crawls up his throat. He’s supposed to be your tutor, and he’s been so caught up in his own work that he forgot that he’s supposed to be helping you.

Rhys frowns when his phone jolts against the desk again. You take a calming breath, closing your eyes, but they still prickle with frustration. You’re just as frazzled as he is. If you don’t pass this quiz, you’re not sure there’s hope of salvaging your grade.

You’re arguably just as exhausted as Rhys. Your other classes are also on the verge of kicking your ass, and you can only blame it on the fact that you actually have a semblance of a social life this year and aren’t holed up in your dorm room 24/7 outside of your classes, studying your ass off. No, you’re hanging out with your roommates more, meeting new people, going to hockey games and parties, both of which are things you never thought you’d be into.

And trying to keep up this façade as Rhysand’s fake girlfriend isn’t easy. Amarantha seems like she’s everywhere. You can barely count the number of times last week Rhys messaged you about her. You meet up with him when you’re close and able, in the commons, the food halls, you even met him between the stacks of bookshelves in the library while she pretended to peruse the non-fictions, but you can’t be everywhere at once. It’s a lot. Just last night, Amarantha was at the hockey house when Rhys arrived home. She had sunken her blood-red claws into one of the freshmen who’d been invited over for a few beers with a small group of players. Azriel had warned him of the devil under their roof, and Rhys had showed up at your dorm with a sheepish smile and a box of cookies from the convenience store he passed on the way over.

If he didn’t have those sweets in hand—and if your roommates hadn’t gone to a movie that you wanted to see but couldn’t because of the amount of studying you had to do—you would have slammed the door in his face.

You spent the night studying alright, but it wasn’t the words in your psych textbook. You couldn’t help but examine Rhysand, who sat across from you on your couch, the way that his hair fell from his brow when his chin tilted down to his own work. The way that he held the chocolate chip cookie in his mouth between his teeth as he wrote in his notebook. The zip of excitement you felt when your fingers brushed against his rough ones in the cookie box.

Your cheeks warm at the memory. You swear you can still feel his touch, the sheepish smile he gave you when he pulled his hand away, letting you pick whichever cookie you preferred. You wanted to lean over and taste that soft smile against your lips. You managed to find the restraint, offering him a gentle smile in return before stuffing a bite of the chocolatey goodness in your mouth as you ripped your gaze from his.

“No, really,” you try to insist politely. “If you need to go, you should. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” It’s difficult to hide your cringe. You really do need his help.

Rhysand stares. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, and when he opens his mouth to ask what has you so on edge tonight, his phone pings with another message, and realization sets in like a boulder in the pit of his stomach at the way your gaze drops back to your book.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, snagging his phone from the table. It’s Cassian, again. His roommate won’t let the fuck up in the group chat, demanding mandatory attendance from every single member on the team at the party he’s hosting at the hockey house the night before team plays the Springview Wolves.

Rhys would be worried about the potential jinxing Cassian’s text puts into the universe if he didn’t know that this is the one superstition his defenseman has. The past two years, the entire hockey team had attended one of Cassian’s pre-celebration parties. It was the last party before their meet with the Wolves, who they’d then slaughtered in a 6-2 game. The following year, they’d beat them in nail-biting overtime with a snapshot that could’ve broken the plexiglass had Azriel missed. Safe to say that this party has become as much as a tradition as it is a superstition, and Rhysand needs to be there.

But right now, he needs to be here, focusing on you and the psych class you’re bombing.

“Look, if you’re too busy to tutor me I’d rather you tell me now so that I might have a chance at finding a new tutor before this quiz.” It’s difficult to mask the disheartened etch to your voice. Who are you kidding? There’s no way you’ll be able to find a tutor when the quiz is two days away.

Yep, you’re officially screwed.

“I’m not,” Rhys protests, shaking his head. Something about the idea of another person tutoring you has annoyance flaring in his veins. He silences his phone, something he should have done as soon as he walked over the threshold of the study room. “It’s just Cassian, anyway.” Rhys slides his chair around the corner of his table so close that your knees knock into each other. The touch sends a shockwave up your thigh and you try not to recoil at the surprising feeling. “Sorry. I’m done texting. Remind me what you’re working through, and I can help with any questions you have.”

You’re apprehensive to let this tutoring continue. It’s become very clear that Rhys has other priorities. He’s the captain of the hockey team for fuck’s sake; he probably has more on his plate than you think he does.

At your hesitation, he questions, “What?”

You shrug, feeling completely defeated. All you want right now is to crawl home with your tail between your legs and curl into a ball in your bed. You’ve pretty much accepted that you’re going to fail this class, tutor or not. There’s no way you’re going to admit any of this to Mor’s cousin right now, so you deflect, lamely. “I don’t know Cassian that well, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that likes to be ignored.”

Rhys rolls his eyes, and your breath hitches as the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. Sadly, a grin doesn’t break through, but it lights a fire under your ass. You want to see that smile, and you’ll do just about anything to make it happen.

It’s sad, almost, how much effort you’d put into earning that grin, but not apply that same energy toward studying.

“He’s going through our roster in the group chat, calling every single person out by name to make sure their schedules are cleared for the party we’re throwing this weekend.”

You catch yourself before your eyes roll into the back of your head in what might possibly be the most dramatic, epic eyeroll ever.

“Wow,” you feign an amused laugh. “That sounds dramatic.”

“That’s Cass for you,” Rhys says, amused. He crosses his arms and places them on the table. It takes effort not to watch the way his muscles pop beneath his t-shirt as he leans in closer. You’re only a foot away from each other. If you wanted to recreate the kiss you shared on Halloween, all you’d have to do is angle forward, tilt your head, and his lips would be on yours. You wonder for a fleeting moment if Rhys was as thrown over the kiss that night as you were. If he still thinks about it, can still feel the phantom sensation of your lips pressed together.

You remember that you shouldn’t be thinking about the kiss at all, and you sit back in your chair.

“You know,” Rhys starts, and you don’t like the telltale signs of a scheme that lines his tone. You almost groan out loud but settle on shooting him a warning look. “Since you’re my girlfriend—”

“Fake girlfriend,” you correct instantly.

Rhys rolls his eyes and tips back onto the back legs of his chair. “Fine. Fake girlfriend,” he mimics and you toss your pencil at him. He catches it against his chest and the smile you’ve been waiting to see finally cracks his face. Fuck, he’s gorgeous when he does that. You’re even gifted those pearly white, straight teeth of his. You’d keel over in your chair like one of his many conquests if it wouldn’t give him an ego. You almost miss the end of Rhys request with how entranced you are. “You should probably make an appearance at the party.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. Realization strikes you like a fist. Rhys all but preens in his seat. You blink as his words settle, frows knitting together. “Wait, no, I can’t.” His face immediately falls. Rhys’ face scrunches adorably and you’d really like to reach out and smooth the crease between his brows right now.

There are more than a handful of reasons that you should not show your face at the hockey house party, the most prominent being that you’re his cousin’s best. She doesn’t want you anywhere near him, and you can’t break that promise even more than you already have.

Well, I won’t tell anyone if you won’t. His words echo in your head and you shove them away as quickly as they arrive.

The second reason you shouldn’t be going to his party is that you’re barely even friends, you’ve somehow been sucked into a mess of a situation, pretending to be his girlfriend in exchange for tutoring. Tutoring that right now isn’t helping improve your grade at all.

“Why not?” He challenges. “What if Amarantha shows up?”

“Because I have other plans,” you answer plainly. You don’t need to give him a reason. You press, “I can’t be your buffer between Amarantha forever, Rhys. You’re a big boy; you can fight your own battles.”

He looks awfully like he doesn’t want to fight his own battles, with his lips pressed into a pout. If you thought that he was distracting before, this is an entirely new level of diversion. A much better kind, to be honest.

“You’re seriously not coming to the party?”

“No,” you respond, packing up your things.

“But what if she corners me and tries to kiss me or give me a hand job or something?” He asks.

Your eyes almost bug out of your head. “Then you tell her no, Rhys,” you state. “It’s really that simple. And don’t guys enjoy hand jobs? When was the last time—” He opens his mouth and you shake your head. “No, nope, I don’t even want to know.” You glare until he shuts his mouth, but the amusement lingers in his eyes.

He huffs. “Those nails are sharp,” is all he offers.

You wince. Amarantha does keep her nails long and pointed at the tips, crimson red, like blood. You almost look down to admire your own hands but catch yourself at the last second. You do not need to be thinking about how your fingers might look like wrapped around Rhys’ eight inches.

Your cheeks burn and Rhysand raises a brow in question.

He must read the plea on your face because he thankfully changes the subject. “What could you possibly have going on that’s better than free booze, good music, and seeing yours truly?”

“Wow, Rhys,” you scoff. “Your ego is unbearably suffocating tonight. Did you get your dick sucked recently?” You ask sweetly, then busy yourself by turning to a fresh page in your notebook.

His answering grin is fucking smug.

The muscle of your jaw twitches with how tightly you clamp it shut.

“Hoping it happens at the party,” he answers, suggestively.

You fake gag. “No way.”

“Didn’t say it was going to be from you,” he teases. “But if you want to, you’ll know exactly where I’ll be.”

Gods, this boy and his fucking filthy mind. You certainly haven’t forgotten that he’s your best friend’s cousin, but the fact that you’re his cousin’s best friend has either slipped his mind, or he doesn’t care.

Either way, this isn’t a good situation to be in.

You divert, pulling your focus back to the books splayed out on the desk. Studying. Right, that’s what you need to be doing instead of whatever…this is.

“I told you; I can’t go.” You try and reach for your pen that’s in Rhys’ grasp but he pulls it out of reach, ignoring the glare you send his way. Fine. You search your backpack for a backup but come up empty. Ugh.

“Can’t, or won’t?” He shoots back.

“Both,” you sigh, checking the time on your phone. It’s well past nine o’clock in the evening, and you really thought that you’d be back at the dorms already, curled up on your bed with your laptop overheating on the sheets as it played a movie. “Can we get back to studying?”

“In a second,” Rhys assures. Why does he want you to come to the party so badly? Besides the obvious. Amarantha surely can’t be that much trouble. She is a little bit of a nightmare and you could see how Rhys wants her to take the hint that he’s moved on, but if he’s that worried about her in the first place, why doesn’t he tell her that she’s uninvited? Or make the hockey team aware that she’s not allowed in the party? Why is flaunting you around the only answer? “What if I said please?”

“That wouldn’t magically cancel my plans.”

“What plans?” You frown. You wonder why he’s pushing this so hard.

Studying for this quiz is going to be impossible. You and Rhys might as well pack up and vacate the room so that people who are actually trying to study can use it. You’re almost positive that the group lingering by an overcrowded area of the library keep shooting you scathing looks every time you open your mouth.

“Gwyn is turning twenty-one and since Mor and I don’t turn twenty-one until next year, we’re planning on ordering in and getting a little tipsy at the dorms.” Rhys gives you that seriously? look that makes you glare. “Not that I care about your opinion, like, at all, but is there something wrong with that?”

“Only the fact that you’re ditching a party whose halls aren’t patrolled by snitches?” He explains, and he would think that the resident assistants live for getting college kids in trouble. “It’s the dorms! How freshman of you.”

“Whatever, Rhys. Some people don’t want to drink until they can’t see straight in front of a bunch of strangers.”

“I’d be your eyes for you,” he winks, as if what he said was comparable to a knight in shining armor defending a princess.

“Good,” you retort. “Because I’m about three seconds away from gouging them out if you keep hassling me about this. Come on, I really need to study.”

Luckily, Rhys relents. His shoulders fall and the feet of his chair meet earth again.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, and cranes his neck to see what you’re reading about. “Let’s get you nice and ready for your quiz.”

_________________________________________

Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd @bookishbroadwaybish @405rry @w0nderw0manly @bbykaixx @marina468 @taechvita @marigold-morelli @esahintzkanen @miakxn @ssmay123 @webvics

[birchbow]

i really like everything you've done with the concept of troll gender in pof, but i was wondering if you've given thought to why/how they developed the concept of gender as a not really sexually dimorphic species? and who exactly assigns them genders as wrigglers? like are they getting the concept from the lusii? also i was wondering how they can tell each other's genders without asking directly. i know the clowns indicate that with their paint usually, but what about everyone else? i would love to hear any thoughts you have about this!

Okay so. This is only somewhat represented in the actual fic, mostly because I started writing it more than a decade ago when I was a little weenie with no gender imagination, but the grand scope of the xeno loadout I'm contemplating is thus:

in the same way that Lord of the Rings was theoretically a localized+translated legend from another language. PoF is a translation of a troll society that is in some ways localized by its translator (me lol).

THIS IS TO SAY: gender isn't gender. Pronouns are a self-declaration of "the role I take in my use to the Great Hive of The Empire". Trolls we translate as "male" and "female" are just roles of Use To The Hive that a human translator maps to "he" and "she".

If the mother grub, the drones and the trolls are all the same species, I find it delightful to imagine that insofar as trolls have a physical sex, it's BEING "trolls"; "troll"="the farmed ones/caretakers/(trollspecies) servant class" who provide and care for the mother grub.

Some of said class focus more into social violence not intended to kill+loud and posturing to drive away enemies+big emotions for Care About Hive. Because humans are, to quote troll xenonecroscholars, "obsessed with assigning mammal genital configurations to things", humans have dictated these trolls are "men". Some trolls focus more energy into stronger psionics+no patience for posturing/straight for the kill+hone and reinforce the inner strata of the hive. Humans refer to these individuals as "women".

I'll be shorthanding these roles as "masc" and "femme" because I use way too many words already, but just know that's an oversimplification haha.

FIG 1: Karkat by this standard? Very masc, but his insistence that he wants to be the leader/in charge is idiosyncratically femme of him. *cishet bioessentialism voice* Football player repeatedly goes out for ballet.

FIG 2: let's be clear Karkat telling Tavros to "stop playing games for girls" after he got jumped off a cliff was Karkat/Homestuck being classic 2010s shitty. But it doubles in this as "you decided to play with the Scourge Sisters (Deadly High Femme), you moron, you're lucky you're not dead".

how people figure out which one they initially go by... tbh it seems like schooling is pretty much via computers. I feel like you could easily just get like. A module on reproduction, and then a module that's essentially a fucking. quizilla quiz. Assigned pronouns at government-required school module.

Recent chapters have started making characters 'they/them' until the POV character gets a hint what their preference is--in this theoretical setup there would be quite a lot of sussing it out. "Gender presentation" would be a loose constellation of traits with a lot less certainty! The webcomic was not made with this in mind but I do find it fun to willfully reframe the pretty generically human-gendered characters we get.

FOR EXAMPLE!! Long/big hair as a peacocking flair/brag, often by old or powerful classes, or people who are powerful enough psionics they don't have to give a shit about a very grabbable liability in a fight. Trolls whose vocational pronouns translate as "female" often specialize in straightforward impersonal murder and social engineering more than brawling, so longer hair wouldn't be a liability and therefore is correlated, but only loosely.

Feferi has long hair, but so does the Grand Highblood. Equius (reads quite masc to humans) has long hair (nobility fle%), but Kanaya (the most overtly human femme) does not (practical middle-class brawler)! I don't think that's on purpose but I AM taking advantage of it lol.

'They/them' is the equivalent of the "joker" title I made up already for Clown Church--somebody with multiple skillsets, mixed roles, or fields of influence. My gender is undeclared college major. My gender is Jack Of All Trades.

Verato's transness isn't really about his switch from one gender to another--it's more because he plays a "femme" role in society but uses the "masc" pronoun for himself. His self-consciousness about it is more similar to a nonbinary or bisexual human who's used to being told to "pick one" and being told which one they "seem like" or "should be".

Meanwhile the Behemoth's 'it/its' in English stands out as a pronoun usually used for objects, but in Alternian it would be the pronoun trolls use to refer to DRONES. "(Trollspecies) made for thoughtless violence/enforcer/culls the weak". Chilling!!

I would have to go through and edit huge chunks of the fic to drag all half a million words into line with fun xeno shit alongside the clown church worldbuilding I already got in there, but damn if the concept isn't tempting some days.

[goyardgoyangi]

𐙚 bad habit pt. 1 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⌗ pairings: ino takuma x reader, slight! choso x reader

⌗ summary: you met in your first computer science course— not because either of you were brilliant, but because you were both bombed the first quiz and were too stubborn to quit. he’s the guy you kept bumping into at the campus convenience store at 1AM and a habit of muttering “chat, we’re so cooked” under his breath during quizzes. you? you just wanted to pass. and maybe cry in peace. you study together now— a little too often, a little too late. he makes fun of your variable names. you wear his hoodie during all-nighters. and no one says it out loud, but maybe friends who suffer through CS together… fall for each other a little, too.

⌗ word count: 1.8k

♥ pt. 2 ♥ masterlist ♥

You thought getting into the computer science major would be the hardest part.

Beating out a 71% application rate had to mean something.

Surviving weed-out courses, crafting a personal statement that didn’t make you sound like every other overachiever who taught their grandparent how to restart a computer— that was supposed to be your final boss.

Wrong.

Apparently, the game’s just beginning.

Because it’s Week 1 and there’s already a test. Not even a quiz, a full-blown exam worth 15% of your grade.

Not a quiz. A test. The syllabus had said something vague about "assessment checkpoints," but you hadn't realized they'd be checking if you were built for this within the first five days of class.

The professor just breezes through the rest of the syllabus like it’s Terms and Conditions, casually mentioning that attendance points will also be cumulative and mandatory.

Like it was a fun little bonus. Like it wasn’t about to completely derail your mental health.

You are, in every definition of the word, cooked.

Especially since you, in your infinite optimism, decided to skip linear algebra and now he’s name-dropping matrix multiplication like you’re all old friends.

Which, sure, is a prereq— but you thought you could squeeze it in next quarter. Because you thought, “How bad could it be?”

So now you're here, sitting in the second row with your laptop open, staring blankly at the slides you’ve written meticulous notes about, trying to decode phrases like "eigenvector interpretation" while suppressing the urge to scream.

Long story short: you’re fucked.

But you can’t drop. Not when you clawed your way in. Not when you’ve already fantasized about the stupid little LinkedIn post you'll write when you graduate.

You wanted this. This major, this future— you chose it. So now you get to suffer for it.

So instead of clicking “Unenroll,” you find yourself at the campus convenience store at 12:03AM, hoping a Celsius will give you the will to survive reviewing the sheer number of questions you got wrong on that first quiz.

You don’t expect anyone else to be there this late, except maybe the sad grad students.

But while you’re squinting at the flavors, someone rounds the corner of the aisle. There’s the low rumble of skateboard wheels and the crinkle of plastic as he picks up a Red Bull. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a worn black hoodie and plaid pajama pants like it’s a uniform. And he's—

He’s cute.

Boyish, really. His hair’s a little messy, his under-eye bags dramatic and kind of adorable, and you can’t help but admire how youthful he looks for someone also up past midnight.

You’re not in the mood to crush, not when you’re running on 3 hours of sleep and academic shame, but… God. His eye bags are really cute.

You try not to stare.

You also try not to fall asleep standing up, but your body is fighting you on all fronts. When you move toward the counter to check out, your foot catches on the edge of the aisle carpet.

You stumble forward.

And suddenly, someone’s hand is on your elbow— steady, warm. Holding you up.

You meet his gaze, honey brown eyes, amused and warm.

"Be careful, yeah?"

You mumble a thanks and practically flee to the self-checkout, embarrassed beyond belief. You don’t look back.

The next day, you drag yourself to your professor’s office hours. You’re so tired your vision blurs a little. You’d spent the whole night trying to understand where you went wrong— how you could have possibly missed that many questions on the quiz.

You’re five minutes early. The office is quiet except for the hum of a desk fan. There’s someone already there.

You freeze.

It’s him.

Red Bull guy. Skateboard guy. “Be careful” guy.

He’s sitting across from the professor, leaning over the desk with a notebook open and pen in hand, looking deeply focused. His hoodie’s different today, but just as lived-in.

How the hell did you not notice him in class?

You convince yourself he must be from a different section. You would’ve noticed someone like that, right? The bone structure? You definitely would’ve noticed.

You also assume he’s a TA or grader or something. He just looks so comfortable in here, like he knows what he’s doing. Probably here to help debug someone's recursion disaster.

Until—

“I just don’t get how I got the lowest score,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like, I thought I did alright, but when I checked Canvas it said 35 out of 100. That’s... beyond terrible.”

Your jaw drops.

Thirty-five?

You’re not even sure if that’s comforting or depressing, and nearly choke on your own breath.

You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry.

On one hand: thank God you’re not the only one struggling. On the other: there’s someone who actually did worse than you

You take a hesitant seat next to him. His gaze flicks toward you.

It takes a second, but he recognizes you too. “Yo,” he says, like you didn’t almost faceplant in front of him nine hours ago.

You blink. “Hi.”

And just like that, you’re no longer alone in your academic downfall.

Because after office hours, just as you’re packing up your laptop with a sense of mild defeat, Ino clears his throat beside you.

“You wanna come study with my tutor?” he asks, eyes hopeful but tired. “Nanami. Took the class last year, has a file of all the assignments. And he interned for Riot Games over the summer, so he actually knows his shit.”

You blink, surprised. “You have a tutor?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a sheepish grin. “I mean… tutor might be a strong word. More like a friend who’s already survived this mess and doesn’t mind explaining it to the rest of us.”

You hesitate for a moment, but honestly, you really need help, and the idea of learning from someone who’s already been through this feels like a lifeline.

“Okay,” you say, finally giving in. “I’ll come. Riot intern, huh? That’s pretty cool— you actually know someone like that?”

“Yeah, we used to skate together all the time when we were younger. Then we both ended up interning at Riot. He did backend dev, and I was doing data science for Valorant.”

He shrugs, flicking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Not that I play PC anymore— too busy trying not to fail this class, honestly.”

His grin turns sheepish but still has that effortless cool that makes you smile back without even trying.

You step out together into the crisp evening air. The campus is quiet, lights flickering on the pavement as students scurry past or lounge on benches, headphones on, notebooks out.

He doesn’t rush like you expect. Instead, Ino slows his pace to match your tired steps. You notice he’s watching you carefully, adjusting his stride so you don’t have to sprint just to keep up.

The gesture is small but feels... considerate. Like he’s already looking out for you, even though you barely know each other.

The walk to the undergrad library takes about ten minutes. Ino casually talks about how he’s been skating since middle school and how he prefers skating at night because the cool breeze helps him relax. When you mention you’ve never learned to skateboard, he laughs and teases that you’d probably be the type to rent a Lime scooter instead.

The library’s glass doors slide open smoothly. Inside, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights and the soft tapping of keyboards greet you. It’s comforting, familiar.

You both find a table tucked in a corner, away from the main clusters of students.

“Here’s the plan,” Ino says, pulling out his laptop. “We wait for Nanami to finish his lecture downstairs, and in the meantime, we try to finish as much of the homework as we can before he gets here to review it.”

You nod, setting up your laptop. You try to start on the first problem, the one about recursion, but your brain immediately threatens to shut down.

Ino leans over your screen, pointing at your code. “You named that variable ‘ballerinaCappuccina’? Dude, what?”

You laugh despite yourself. “More memorable than ‘x’ or ‘temp’, okay?”

He snickers, shaking his head. “You're so brainrot.”

Time slips by as you swap dumb jokes and lament the professor’s cryptic hints. You find yourself relaxing, your earlier dread melting into something softer.

Then the door opens again, and Nanami steps in.

He moves with an easy confidence, glasses sliding down his nose, hair a little tousled but neat. His tee sports a pixelated game logo you recognize, and he’s carrying a backpack that looks surprisingly clean for a CS major.

You glance up, surprised by how different he is from Ino.

If Ino’s energy was all skater-boy charm and casual cool, Nanami's would be hot, slightly nerdy, and intensely focused— like someone who clearly spent all night grinding out code but still somehow looks handsomely tired in the morning.

You catch your breath for a moment.

Cute, you think. Definitely cute.

Ino waves him over. “Yo, Nanami! This is my study buddy— also failing this class with me.”

Nanami gives a small smile as he slides into the seat next to Ino. “Ino, try not to embarrass yourself. It’s not that hopeless— yet.”

With a calm confidence, he starts breaking down the first week's concepts— functions, APIs, database calls— with a precision and clarity that almost makes you think you could pass this class if you had him as your professor.

You and Ino trade notes, nodding along, asking questions, laughing when Nanami mocks the actual professor’s habit of using vague buzzwords.

Between explanations, Nanami looks at you briefly and says, “You’re doing better than most first-timers. Keep at it.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest.

Hours pass, the late-night study session stretching into the early morning. The three of you share snacks from Ino’s backpack— a sad assortment of Takis, a couple of peach ring gummies, and a can of Red Bull you suspect was bought last night at the convenience store.

You realize, with a little startle, that this is the first time you’ve felt truly at ease since the quarter began.

The three of you fall into a rhythm— Ino’s lighthearted jokes, Nanami's steady patience, and your stubborn determination.

The future still looks impossible.

But for now, with these two by your side, it feels a little less like you’re totally cooked.

[boot-e-cheeks]

I'm feeling silly again so...

HERE ARE SOME “TOP TIER SHIT ” CERTIFIED FOTOS I DREW BC I GET MAD IN CLASS A LOT BUT I DON'T WANT TO CRASH THE FUCK OUT SO I DRAW INSTEAD >:DDD!!!

1.) Soda Popinski

I drew this soda loving Russian man because I raged a bit too hard during a Math quiz! (1 more check, just 1 MORE! I would've PASSED!!!)

2.) Piston Hondo

I drew this disciplined Japanese man because I got too mad in a History (Araling Panlipunan) Quiz! I never knew the score but I BET I failed!

3.) Don Flamenco

I drew this GAY ASS Spaniard because I got a little ANGRY silly during a Technology and Livelihood Education [T.L.E] Quiz. (I rage a lot in quizzes, ik... At this point crashing out should be normalize)

4.) Super BOGUS Macho Man!!!

I drew this STUPID AMERICAN (no offense to my American viewers :3) 'cuz I wanted to crash out because I didn't get a perfect score in my Computer Performance Task (27/30).

Bonus:

I drew this bc I thought it was cute!

[soobieedoo]

Formula of Love CH. 11.5 - the first shift (written)

word count: 542

you subtly watch haechan at work. for the past 2 hours, you both have been silently working…well, at least YOURE trying to. he keeps trying to make a conversation with you but you reply back with short answers to end the convo quickly.

attempt 1

“how are you?” haechan asks as you sit at the computer looking at the prescription orders for the day.

“fine” you reply back not even sparing him a glance.

attempt 2

“hey, youre in intro to chem class too right? how was professor kim’s recent quiz? it was absolute hell for me” he chuckles.

“hard” slightly annoyed as you lose count of the refill of pills youre currently counting.

attempt 3

“y/n youre going on break right? you hungry? i packed some snacks he-” he tries to hand you his box of chocobi snacks, and then the clinic bell rings signalling a customer has entered the store.

“y/nie!! im here”

haechan recognizes his face, dance guy, hanbin was it? what’s he doing here..? with…bags…of food. suddenly feeling embarrassed about his offer he quickly puts back his pathetic box of chocobi in his coat pocket and watches as you run up and hug him.

Now, 30 minutes until closing, you feel slightly guilty. He stopped trying to talk to you and he keeps…sulking. You have a hard time focusing on your work for the rest of the night, guilt on the back of your mind. Is he really that bothered? why is he even-

“you mean to tell me you went 2 weeks without your allergy medicine? do you know how dangerous that is?”

“i didnt have time! you know i’ve been too busy practicing for soccer tryouts!”

“yeah yeah just take it and leave, we’re closing in 30 minutes park jisung” he deadpans to who you assume is his friend. they seem close but there’s been a shift in donghyuck’s usual friendly tone.

finally done for the night, you lock up the clinic, you watch as he gives you a small wave and walks away…..fuck it.

“donghyuck!” you have no idea what youre doing.

he stops in his tracks, he looks around before he realizes that it’s actually you that’s calling his name.

“um, hanbin gave me wayy too much food. i remember you told me once you like kimchi jjigae and i have some here left untouched. i can’t eat this much food on my own and itd be a waste to throw it away, so you should take it with you home” you slightly tremble as you hand him the bag, you look anywhere but him silently praying he takes the bag. why isn’t he taking the bag?

he laughs. you look at him confused, is he making fun of you? feeling embarrassed you begin to bring the bag back towards you but he grabs your hand and takes it. he gives you that smile again. that damn smile.

“thanks y/n i’ll enjoy it well” he stares at you and suddenly youre feeling self conscious.

“yourewelcomehaveagoodnightdonghyuckenjoy” you scramble out, you give him a quick wave before speed walking towards your dorm.

haechan stares at your back as you quickly walk away, he tries to calm himself down but he just cant seem to stop smiling.

note: just a cute mini chapter for their first official shift together hehe, trust u guys y/n has a soft spot for him she just doesn’t want to admit it 😁🙏🏻

taglist: @bloomyroses @lionzyon @ourbeautifulaffair @yewshi @injunnie-lemon @nessaassen02 @dudekiss3r @jianreadsaus @haechsworld @catpjimin @onlyhyunjin

masterlist | previous | next 𐙚˙✧˖

[forestgromlin]

intro post!!

special interest: hermitcraft + life series current hyperfixation: hungry hermits!! (tango’s game in hc10)

more info below the cut!

Basic Stuff

call me: bee (like this lil guy -> 🐝)

minor (nothing weird please)

pronouns: she/her mainly, they/them is good too

sexuality: aegorose

art is under #bee doodles blog where i reblog stuff: @forestgromlinreblogs

Other Stuff

(may have been a hyperfixation in the past or is a general thing that just hangs around)

singing (i’m a soprano, and am in choir and musical theater, my range is around A3-G5 on a good day)

piano (i just started learning again, i used to take lessons when i was in like. 3rd grade?? maybe??? idk)

fanfic (i only read it, i don’t write it)

i like coming up with ideas for books and editing, but not writing the actual story lmao

i think programming/coding is very cool, i have done some very very beginner stuff before (if anyone has heard of perchance.org, i made a warrior cats things that has like 10k views or smt at this point 😭 it’s really bad, the code is so messy)

i would like to possibly go into game development in the future bc it combines a lot of stuff that is very interesting to me, but i currently don’t even have a computer i could use, so uh.. yeah

hermitcraft

life series

language/languages (grammar, linguistics, etymology, learning new languages, etc.)

art (i draw on procreate)

marauders (harry potter)

harry potter (i do NOT support JKR)

kotlc

the owl house (this my FAVORITE SHOW i love it SO MUCH ASGDHFHFJFHFUUFGUUVHFJF)

she-ra and the princesses of power

bluey

pjo, hoo, toa, mcga, etc.

good omens (i’ve read the book and watched the show, but i’m specifically referring to the show)

hamilton

newsies (the musical. specifically the pro-shot on disney+. also my mucial theater class performed newsies and i got to play davey so that was awesome)

lotr

rings of power (i’ve only watched season 1)

six: the musical

i used to play violin for like 2 years

music:

maisie peters

noah kahan

chappell roan

laufey

conan gray

boygenius

phoebe bridgers

clairo (specifically the album Charm)

plus many more!

im one of the people that saw tumblr stuff on pinterest before joining tumblr

im very friendly online and would be happy to chat!! feel free to tag me in whatever

tag system

#bee’s thoughts - random original stuff, ramblings, thoughts, questions, etc

#bee doodles - sometimes i get the motivation to art, you can find it all under this tag :D

#bee watches stuff - i’m making my way through a giant list of hermitcraft and life series series, updates will be under this tag :]

#bee’s song of the day - i’m gonna try to do a song of the day everyday!! feel free to remind me if i haven’t posted one lol (i almost never do)

#bee does texting - screenshots of texts i or my friends sent

#bee’s ultimate quiz - i made a really hard quiz about myself and had y’all take it to see how much you know about me :] maybe someday i’ll hold it again for new moots or make a new one? lmk if you’re interested (if so, google forms or kahoot or both?)

tags for moots

(so if you want to see all of my interactions with a certain person, just filter by their tag!)

(lmk if you dont wanna be here, or if you’re my moot but you’re not on here! i’m really bad at staying on top of stuff like this lmao, trust me, i encourage you to tell me)

#my beau-dee-ful wife <3 - @twinklefwinkle <- at the top bc she is my fiancée <333 i love her sm (her name is dee she is amazing)

the rest are in alphabetical order by tag! #andie! - @ladyloss-blog

#bug!! - @musical-dash-trash

#cal - @stuck-in-a-forest

#duck! - @duckieselz

#erin! - @kitab00m101

#freya - @freyapoststhings

#indi - @indecisiveness-incarnate

#jas! - @yams-and-toast

#laceyy - @theodditylacey

#lee! - @whimsical-laboratory-tragedy

#lucy! - @chickencentaur

#micky - @n0b0dyukn0w

#nyx - @nyxs-blank-canvas

#patch! - @toooster

#quinn! - @quintessent1ally1

#rin! - @rins-batcave

#rye bread!! - @kutie106

#sara - @snipemeout

#sam! - @imwaitingin-the-sky

#spinny bois / #stiles / #isaac - @spinny-bois

#toast! - @ghost-y-toast-y

#vie! - @thelovelyvie

also @ all of my moots, i love y’all!!

[bqstqnbruin]

Quinn Hughes Teacher AU

Hi hello I wrote a teacher AU with Quinn where this can go one of three ways: 1. this becomes a series with Quinn and Cat and we watch that happen 2. I do it where it's a different player and FMC in a teacher AU universe type of thing or 3. nothing comes of this besides this one thing

Anyway, it's nearly 1:30 am after my best friend's wedding weekend so this is being yeeted into the wild. @nicohischier I finally gave you something with a happy ending, so happy belated birthday (please let this be enough 😭)

Teacher AU series

Warnings: None

WC: 1268

________________________________

“Mr. Hughes?” Quinn hears while he’s packing up his bag for the day. He looks up from his desk, one of his students standing under the frame of the doorway, one of the posters he had hung above it just last week already starting to come down. 

“Um,” he hesitates, trying to hide the fact that he didn’t really remember which of his students this was as she walked slowly into his room. She leaned against the desk, a nervous look on her face. Join the club, kid. “Sarah, right?”

She grimaces ever so slightly, trying not to look offended. “Sienna.”

Quinn sighs, shaking his head. “Sorry, Sienna. Still trying to get names down,” he lets out a nervous laugh, Sienna just nodding her head slowly. “What can I do for you?” 

“Can we go over the quiz I took today? I don’t think I did well.”

He had to try to stifle the laugh. She had to have been in the class that took the quiz that morning. There was no way those quizzes were going to be graded before tomorrow. Quinn checks his watch, finding the stack of quizzes on his desk and stuffing them in his backpack along with his laptop. “I actually need to head out for a meeting, but can you come back tomorrow?” Sienna nods her head, a smile on her face as she says goodbye to him. 

Quinn let out a sigh, plopping down on his seat and covering his face. Today was unreasonably long, only one free period on his schedule as it is getting tied up with him trying to figure out what his ‘year long goals’ were. The only thing he could think of was to survive his first year of teaching. Thankfully, Kate helped him figure out a way to say that in a way that would please admin, but he never thought doing that would exhaust him the way he did. 

He makes his way to the faculty meeting, some of the teachers still lingering outside the library talking. He couldn’t wait until the day he was able to not stress about a meeting the way they did, leaning against the wall with what was probably a third or fourth cup of coffee as if they didn’t need to be inside. 

The powerpoint was already being projected on the screen when he walked in, almost every seat already taken at the tables the students normally used during the day. One of the only seats he saw open was next to the one person he was too nervous to sit next to: Cat Mathis. She taught in his department, had already been there teaching for a few years even though she was younger than him, and not only did he catch on to the fact that the students loved her, but that she was the kind of teacher he wished he could be. They were supposed to be sharing a class together, him teaching one of the four sections while she got the other three, but he had been too scared to ask her for help. 

“Is anyone sitting here?” He asks, his hand resting on the back of the chair next to her. She looks up from her computer, the school letterhead on her screen that one of the other teachers told him was for letters of recommendations for seniors, and smiles at him. She tells him to go ahead, his legs shaking with nerves like they did back on the first day of school. 

The meeting starts, Quinn looking around and seeing some of the other teachers taking notes, making him nervous that he should be doing the same. He looks at Cat’s computer, her gaze fixated on the screen in front of her and not on the meeting. If she could do that, why couldn’t he do the same? He pulls out his computer, figuring he could do some work while he was at it, including trying to figure out what he was supposed to be teaching when his students came in the next morning. 

A message pops up on the corner of the screen, Cat’s name appearing with it. How’ve the first few weeks been?

He lets out a sigh, trying to hide the smile that he was fighting against on his face. Exhausting.

Sounds right. Everything going ok? He knew she could see him hesitate, Quinn seeing the smile on her face turning into a worried look out of the corner of his eye. I have to head back to my room after this, come with me?

Quinn looks at her, a genuine smile on his face as he nods at her. His mind wandered the rest of the meeting, not taking in a single piece of information that he probably was going to need later. It ended before he could realize the hours was up, Cat gently resting her hand on his shoulder to snap him out of the trance he had fallen into.

They walk back in silence to her classroom on the other side of the building. Cat sits down at her desk, Quinn awkwardly standing by the door while looking up at her walls. The two of them had a lot of the same posters hanging, which made sense when he considers the fact that they teach the same thing. 

“So,” Cat breaks the silence, causing him to jump. He tries to pass it off as putting his bag down, the smirk on Cat’s face telling him she saw right through him. “What’s been going on?”

Quinn shakes his head. He felt like he barely had time to process most of the first few weeks of the school year, answering that question felt impossible. “Is it always going to be this hard?”

Cat smiles at him again, a warm feeling running through Quinn as she shakes her head. “No, you’re just finding who you are as a teacher.” Quinn cocks his eyebrow at her, leading her to laugh. “I sound like that shitty PD person from in-service. But, I’m not wrong. When I first started, Kate told me that my first year is meant for mistakes. It’s meant for finding how you want to teach, what you want to emphasize, and working out what is the best for you and your students.”

Quinn nods, sitting down. He stares at Cat for a moment, studying her face. God, she made him nervous. “You know the handbook, pretty well, right?”

Cat nods. “The AP my first year made all the new teachers practically memorize it.” 

He could feel himself getting even more nervous. “What does it say about teachers dating?”

“Each other?” He nods again, getting up and grabbing his bag. If this went the way he thought it was going to go, he needed to be able to leave as soon as possible. He could see the corners of her mouth turn up for a moment, his heart racing as he over thought that as a good sign. “As long as one isn’t in a position of power and it doesn’t interfere with their work, teachers dating each other is fine.”

“So, in theory, we could date?” 

Cat nods, biting her lip. “If we both wanted to, yes.” 

“I want to,” Quinn says, a little too fast for his liking. “If you do.”

Cat lets out another laugh. “Mr. Hughes, is this your way of asking me out?”

Quinn drops his head, feeling his cheeks getting red. “It’s going about as well as my lessons, but yes, Ms. Mathis, I’m trying to.” 

“I’d love to go out with you.”

[deepamuthukrishnan]

The Science of it All

High school Luke Hughes and OC

Summary: Divya (the oc) has to help Luke catch up with assignments that he missed from his AP Environmental Science class.

Warnings: cursing

Author’s Note: This is loosely inspired by me and my experiences in APES and it’s one of my favorite classes. If you’re American, in high school, and your school offers it, take it. I’m trying to get this to be a series if I can. But I tried to make this like normal but also enjoyable. So enjoy!!

Chapter 1:

Divya’s POV

“Morning Miss. Renaldi.” I greet as I walk into her room. I walk over to my desk, looking at the board to see the agenda for the day.

Finish Tragedy of the Commons Notes

Start Impacts of Overfishing Notes

MAYBE: Start Fishing Silent Debate.

It doesn’t look so bad and I love a notes day in APES. They’re therapeutic and I love this class.

I sit down and I’m greeted by Eesha, a family friend and her friend Sasha. Eesha’s family owns a few restaurants and my dad is close with her dad. We’re not that close but we’re nice.

I take my phone out and I send a few snaps on Snapchat and go through my friend’s stories before opening instagram and going through my feed.

About 2 minutes go by and some boy sits right next to me. He’s kinda cute, tall with light brown curly hair that reaches the nape of his neck.

I wonder if he’s a new kid or transferred to this class because I’ve never seen him before.

The bell rings and Miss. Renaldi, like clockwork, walks into the room and stands behind her computer that’s on the massive lab table in the front of the room, putting in attendance. After finishing that, she fixes the HDMI cord that’s connected to her laptop.

“Good morning guys! How are we?” She asks and gets the same answesr: a few grumbles and a few goods, with Andrew Paulichi yelling amazing.

It’s funny because apart from me and Jacob Anatoli, we’re the only juniors taking the class, I think?

I don’t know about Mystery Boy sitting next to me.

“We’re gonna finish up our tragedy of the commons notes and start our impacts of overfishing notes and if we have time, we’re gonna go a fishing silent debate. If we don’t get to it, we will do that next class. Just a reminder that quiz corrections are due Friday morning and that Tragedy of the Commons edpuzzle is due tomorrow.” Renaldi says and pulls up the slideshow with the notes and people pulling out their notebooks and pens, some taking their chromebooks out.

I take my binder and pencil case out when I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn to look at Mystery Boy and try not to get lost in his muted blue eyes.

“This is gonna sound stupid but can I borrow a sheet of paper and a pen or a pencil?” He asks.

I try not to let my face show an expression of judgement before I opened my binder and give him two sheets of loose leaf paper and a mechanical pencil from Walmart.

“Thanks.” He says. I turn back to my unfinished Tragedy of the Commons notes, listening to Renaldi go on about how to stop a Commons problem when Mystery Boy taps my shoulder again.

“Oh my god what?” I whisper.

“Sorry for uh, disturbing you, but can I take a picture of your notes?” He asks.

I roll my eyes before showing him my binder. He takes his phone out and I catch a glimpse of his lock screen. It’s a picture of him and what looks like his two brothers. They look oddly recognizable but I can’t put my finger on them.

He unlocks his phone and opens his camera app, quickly snapping pictures of my notes.

“Anything else?” I whisper.

“Nothing, thank you.” He whispers back before giving me my binder.

The period goes by slowly and the bell rings and everyone begins to pack up.

“Just a reminder that your quiz corrections are due Friday and your TOC edpuzzle is due tomorrow!” She yells over the commotion of students saying their byes and have a good days.

“Have a good day Miss. Renaldi.” I say but she stops me.

“Oh Divya, I need to talk to you.” She says. “And you’re not in trouble.”

“Oh, okay.” I tentatively say. I walk back inside and I see Mystery Boy also in the room, standing at the front of the room. She closes the door and shuts her computer.

“Divya,” she points to Mystery Boy, “This is Luke.”

Oh so that’s what his name is and god damn he’s tall!

“Hey.” I say awkwardly.

“And Luke,” she points at me, “This is Divya.”

“Hey.” He also says awkwardly.

“Luke is supposed to be in this class.” Miss. Renaldi explains. “However, because of his, situation for the past few months, he hasn’t been here. And after some consideration, I’ve decided that you should help him catch up.”

“But I’m busy with school and extracurriculars and stuff.” I protest. “I am flattered but like I can’t.”

“Divya I know you can.” She says. “You consistently do well in this class, you know the material like the back of your hand. I’ll give you extra credit for doing this. And he’s also a junior like you too.”

So he is a junior.

I think about it for a moment. “Fine.” I relent. “I’ll do it, but not because I know Luke.”

He gives me a boyish grin and Renaldi beams.

“I knew I could count on you.” She says.

I give her an awkward smile before grabbing my bag and walking out.

“Yeah so then that’s what fucking happened.” I explained with a mouthful of chola batura in my mouth in the choir room during lunch.

“Wait wait wait, so you know have to tutor some kid who’s in your APES class who has been awol for months.” Bella, one of my friends, asks.

“Yeah and now I feel like a dumbass because there’s no way I’m juggling this with like winter guard and my arangetram practice.” I say, furiously biting into my chola batura wrap.

“Okay, do you know his name?” Claire, another one of my friends ask as she takes her phone out and open instagram.

“Uh, his name is Luke.” I reply.

She immediately searches him up and after about 5 minutes, Claire cleared her throat before showing her his instagram profile.

“Okay so his full name is Luke Hughes. He’s 16 years old, youngest of three. He had two older brothers named Quinn and Jack. Quinn’s a defenseman for the Vancouver Canucks while jack’s a center for the New Jersey devils.”

“How did you-“

“It wasn’t that fucking hard. I basically found a post where each of the brothers were tagged in and it took me to their profiles. But anyways, Luke is on the Team USA U17 hockey team. They recently came back from Worlds.” Claire adds.

So that’s why he was gone.

“But why take a fucking college level science course?” I ask.

“I don’t even know. But that’s basically who Tutor Boy is.”

I nod and throw away the aluminum foil before opening my cinnamon bun flavored puffcorns and eating them.

I’m in my head when my phone vibrates and I get a notification from instagram.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

[academiclifexd]

"How Technology is Changing the Way We Learn"

In the past few years, there has been a sudden rise in the use of technology in various aspects of life, especially in education. With the increasing availability of digital tools and online resources, students now have more access to more information and learning opportunities than ever before. This shift has significantly changed the way we students study, collaborate, and comprehend academic content. As a Senior High School STEM student, I’ve witnessed firsthand how technology has shaped our academic journey throughout the years. Here are various reasons why technology is changing the way we learn.

1. Access to Various Sources

Back in the earlier days, the library was the primary source of information. The library was a haven not just for bookworms, but for students who needed help with their homework. The library had a collection of books that were full of specific information that assisted students in finding answers, solutions, definitions, and terms needed for their homework. Growing up in Gen Z like myself as a STEM student relies much more on technology nowadays than a physical library because with a touch of a smartphone or a click of a computer, you now have access to different websites that contain the information you need, especially when you need to conduct a research study, which most students use Google Scholar.

2. Interactive Learning Tools

Textbooks are no longer the only tools we use to learn. Interactive apps, simulations, and educational games have become commonplace in many classrooms. As a STEM student, I’ve experienced how these tools make learning more engaging. Apps like Khan Academy offer interactive courses in math, physics, and computer science, breaking down complex topics into bite-sized lessons with visual aids.

Platforms like Quizizz display flashcards that could help students enhance their active recall, memorizing, and understanding of the concepts easily because of the quiz game it offers.

3. Collaboration in Real-Time

One of the biggest changes technology has brought to education is the ability to collaborate in real-time, regardless of any location in the world. Platforms like Google Docs, Microsoft Teams, and Zoom have been helping students ever since the Covid-19 pandemic struck. During the pandemic, remote learning platforms became essential for continuing education. Even though many students faced challenges with online learning, these platforms provided a way for education to continue without interruption all thanks to the implementation of Online Classes. Now, blended learning—combining in-person and online education—is becoming the norm, offering more flexibility for both teachers and students.

4. Personalized Learning

Every student learns differently, and technology is helping cater to these individual learning styles. Adaptive learning platforms use algorithms to tailor lessons to each student’s needs. If you’re struggling with a particular topic, these platforms adjust the difficulty and provide extra support until you grasp the concept. Tools like Duolingo and Grammarly, which offer students language and grammar support are just a few examples of how technology provides customized learning experiences.

For us STEM students, this is particularly helpful, especially when using Grammarly for a research project. Using Platforms like Grammarly helps correct revisable sentences and paragraphs easily in one click, providing less effort and less time-consuming for us students.

5. Preparation for the Future

Technology isn’t just transforming education for the present; it’s also preparing students for the future. As technology like AI and Programming evolves, we students could resort to learning skills like coding, and learning the different types of programming languages so that we could adjust to the evolving technology all around us.

6. The Potential Downsides

While technology has brought us numerous benefits, it’s important to acknowledge the challenges and disadvantages it presents. Overreliance on technology can often lead to distractions, with social media and games constantly thriving for attention. Furthermore, the concept of Technology and its use remains a problem in many parts of the world, where students lack access to the necessary tools and internet connectivity to fully benefit from online learning resources.

[collegiatesins]

professor statistics.

name — noémie laurent

gender & pronouns — agender , they/them

age — thirty'8

department — humanities

classes taught — introduction to historical linguistics, etymology & word origins, world mythologies, myth language and culture, classical mythology, the mythological mind: oral tradition and collective memory, the linguistic roots of myth.

temperament — very overzealous and full of energy. serving cool aunt/older sibling energy who takes delight in showing you new things and opening up your world.

teacher quirks — coming to class in costume depending on what they are teaching that week. no designated office hours but they respond back to emails within 3hrs because they are always within reach of their phone/tablet/computer. has an open door policy for students even about things not course related. hosts trivia nights at the lamb & flag every wednesday centered around mythology, students get 2pts extra credit on the last quiz for attending and 4pts if their team wins.

special interests — watching documentaries, collecting comics, wildlife photography, geocaching, pickleball, sound baths, mindful walks, reiki, tarot reading, mixology, foraging for wild edibles, fermenting foods, volunteering, museum-hopping, learning about world cultures.

fierce aversions — visual clutter or mess, sudden temperature changes, foods that are too mushy, pressure to perform or compete, dairy products, bitter vegetables, artificial sweetners, processed foods, small spaces.

fun facts ! — is in a lesbian polycule with 2 other professors.

rate a professor rating — 9.1 out of 10

mini questionnaire.

how  long  have  they  been  teaching?  do  they  enjoy  the  job  -  or  did  they  have  a  different  career  in  mind originally? they’ve been teaching for 10 years, with the last 4 at palladian. before that, they taught abroad in germany and briefly in france, focusing on indo-european etymology and myth transmission across oral traditions.

do  they  teach  at  langston,  or  palladian?  what  are  their  thoughts  on  the  opposing  university? they genuinely enjoy teaching, particularly the intersection of myth and language evolution, but it wasn’t their first dream. as a student, they were deeply invested in becoming a field linguist, traveling to endangered language communities and documenting oral storytelling traditions. however, a serious injury in their late twenties made fieldwork unsustainable, leading them to pivot to academia — a shift they now see as fate rather than failure.

are  there  any  rumors  surrounding  them?  are  they  true? they teach exclusively at palladian, where they hold a (newly) tenured position in the humanities. as for langston, their opinion is… complicated. publicly, they're diplomatic: privately, they believe langston's approach to myth is too superficial and too commercialized, and they've subtly criticized its "trend-chasing curriculum" in academic panels. never by name, but everyone knows who they mean.

[kasiewrites]

You and I

Call sign: Ace

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x f!reader

TW: shirtless Hangman, fluff, kissing

W/C: 1066

Sum: you, Hangman, Phoenix and Bob are all in school, and are working on a project together.

"ah, come on!" you exclaim. "What?" Hangman asks. You're sitting on the same couch as him, with Bob and Phoenix on the couch in front of you. Hangman looks at your computer screen, "oh come on... really Ace, that's what you've been doing for the past half hour" he asks. You lean your head back, it was last class of the day and you couldn't wait to go to the bar tonight. You started rubbing your temples, since your headache was getting worse, "you okay?" Phoenix asks you. "Yeah fine, just can't wait to get this project over with." You answer.

The next day your headache is even worse, you're again sitting on the couches with the three other people. "Are you sure you're okay?" Bob asks concerned. "yeah, yeah I'm fine I just have a headache" you answer fighting the urge to not lay down fully on the couch. You lean your head into your hand, hoping that that might help, but it doesn't, your head keeps slipping off. Until you feel Hangman's hand on the side of your head, pushing your head up to lean on his shoulder. And you almost instantly feel better, it was weird, you'd seen Jake Hangman boss around all these girls at various bars, but with you he was so gentle, almost. Your group had continued working for a couple more hours, the project had to be perfect.

You and Phoenix had gotten a lot closer since the beginning, so it wasn't unusual that you'd stay a night at her place once in a while. And she was more than happy to lend you her spare bedroom, as long as you gave her some drama. "So what's going on with you? Why do you keep having headaches?" she asks while making some tea for the both of you later that evening. "I don't know, I guess I'm stressed about the project and haven't been sleeping very well" you answer.

Your group has to do an examination, Phoenix and Bob were the ones doing most of that, while you and Hangman were left to do the research. This continued for the next couple of weeks. You and Hangman had gotten close, not extremely but you'd spent a lot of time together and every time you were studying late or super early Hangman would bring you coffee. He somehow knew your exact order, and to this day you're still not sure how.

"Okay, we should be done in about an hour, are you guys almost done?" Phoenix asks you. "I still have a few questions that needs answering and then I'm gonna do a deep dive, just to make sure i've got everything." you answer not looking up from your computer.

"Everyone, pack your things school is closing, you can come here again tomorrow at 8. First presentation is at 9.30 be prepared for everything!" your teacher yells through the library. And slowly everyone starts packing. "Hey uhm, Phoe, can stay at your place tonight" you ask, and she shakes her head, "no sorry, my sister's coming to visit, why? Can't you just stay at your apartment?" "My neighbor's doing renovations so I won't be able to concentrate." you say, not knowing what to do now. "You can stay at my place if you want, I have an extra bedroom, and I'm just gonna study anyway" Hangman chimes in.

Once you get to Hangman's house, you study for hours. You and Hangman only talk together to quiz each other, other than that you were quiet.

"2 am" you say mostly to yourself but Hangman hears, "huh" he says looking up at the clock. The two of you decide to order a pizza, within 30 minutes of the pizza getting to his house it was gone. Since it was almost 3 am Hangman told you that you could borrow his guest bedroom.

The next morning you wake up to grunting, while you put on your own clothes you think to yourself, "ok, hangman might have game, but not so much that he can pick up a girl at 3 am without even leaving his house. Right?". You had borrowed a t-shirt from Hangman so that you didn't have to sleep in your jeans and tank top.

Walking out to the living room, you see Hangman doing push-ups, shirtless, after standing in the doorway for a little just enjoying the show, you can see him starting to get up, so you start moving again. "Like what you see?" he asked, you just walked past him and into the kitchen, to look for food, "don't you have anything eatable, you can eat in this house?" you ask jokingly as you look through various cabinets. "Haha very funny, and no I have everything I need" after a little pause of the two of you just looking at each other he clears his throat, "um, I'm, I'm gonna go take a shower" he says leaving you in the kitchen.

After about 20 minutes, Hangman comes back into the kitchen, in just a towel. This time it's his turn to stand in the doorway and stare at you, you were sitting on his kitchen island scrolling Tik-Toks, "Can I help you, Seresin?" "no, no, it's just, it makes me happy seeing how natural you look here." and with that he left.

You started pacing back and forth in the kitchen. While you debated whether or not to go after him. But you eventually ended up walking up to his bedroom door, it was closed so you started rethinking but before you could change your mind, you went in. Somehow he was still shirtless, but this time in only boxers and not a towel, you walked past him and laid down on his bed. "Hi," he said while putting on cologne. "Did you mean that?" you ask but before he can answer you're continuing, " 'Cause I like you, i think, and then you said that and it made me think that maybe you like me too, but I don't know and you know maybe you're just being friendly and" he stopped you before you could say anything else. He kissed you and quickly pulled away after you stopped talking, "I like you, and I think you came in here because you like me too?" he asked, and you answered by kissing him again, this time more passionately.

[quicksilversquared]

So in this semester's new Adventures in Teaching, so far I had:

-a student use a source about hornets when trying to find a reference related to a question about poison dart frogs. Which. Is an animal, at least? But if you're looking up info about poison dart frog behavior, hornet behavior is not going to help.

-Multiple students struggled with the concept that I wanted them to staple all of the pages together when they did groupwork. Most of them eventually got it.

-One "screenshot" that is actually someone's phone photo of their computer screen. Why do the Youths not know how to figure out how to do a screenshot on their computer. Ngl, I periodically forget, too, but I just google it? It's not hard?

-someone tried to tell me that they didn't realize that their pre-lab quiz was due before the start of lab. I am unclear on what they thought "pre-lab" meant.

-Despite me telling people that in-class worksheets must be turned in by the end of the day, I still have someone this week who didn't turn theirs in and has apparently checked neither email nor the student portal. Clearly I have to bring that up in class again. Yay.

-also the number of people who simply do not comprehend some/a lot/all of the instructions for our M&M lab, which is a straightforward-ass lab, is insane. After emphasizing that each table should only run one experiment at a time, I had to stop multiple tables from doing multiple experiments at once. After telling them to go off of the formatting of our example experimental design slide, I had people doing literally anything else. Like. Why.

-The M&M lab started with them just measuring out a set amount of water and putting it over an M&M. The number of people who took multiple minutes to fill their transfer pipette to the 2.5 mark twice was insane. The second variation was to put water over 2 M&Ms that are maybe a finger's width apart. Some people apparently don't know the difference between width and length of a finger.

....next week is supposed to be our intro to Excel lab. We are currently predicted to get multiple inches of snow. This is likely to shut down campus, because people out here are babies about weather. If I have to deal with people being completely incapable of making graphs for the rest of the semester because we couldn't do that lab, I will scream.

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hi so I’m an incoming freshman I have autism and ADHD I was wondering do you have any tips for high school specifically for people with autism and ADHD like me? Thank you for your time!!

Hi there,

It’s been out of school since 2015, so I’m rusty with tips. However I did find one article listing 12 tips that might help:

1. You don’t need ONE study space.

A well-stocked desk in a quiet place at home is key, but sometimes you need variety. Coffee shops, libraries, parks, or even just moving to the kitchen table will give you a change of scenery which can prompt your brain to retain information better.

2. Track more than HW in your school planner.

Keeping a calendar helps you plan ahead—but you’ve got more going on than just homework assignments! Make sure you’re marking your extracurricular, work, and social commitments, too. (Tests, band practice, away games, SAT dates, half-days and holidays are just a few examples of reminders for your planner.)

3. Start small.

If you’ve got a big assignment looming, like a research paper, stay motivated by completing a piece of the project every few days. Write one paragraph each night. Or, do 5 algebra problems from your problem set at a time, and then take a break.

4. School supplies (alone) don’t make you organized.

Come up with a system and keep to it. Do you keep one big binder for all your classes with color-coded tabs? Or do you prefer to keep separate notebooks and a folder for handouts? Keep the system simple—if it’s too fancy or complicated, you are less likely to keep it up everyday.

5. Get into a routine.

When will you make the time to do your homework every day? Find the time of day that works best for you (this can change day-to-day, depending on your schedule!), and make a plan to hit the books.

6. Learn how to create a distraction-free zone.

A study on workplace distractions found that it takes workers an average of 25 minutes to return to what they were working on pre-interruption. Try turning off your phone notifications or blocking Twitter (temporarily) on your computer so you can concentrate on the homework tasks at hand.

7. Get real.

When you’re looking at the homework you have to get done tonight, be realistic about how long things actually take. Gauging that reading a history chapter will take an hour and writing a response will take another 30 minutes will help you plan how you spend your time.

8. Use class time wisely.

Is your teacher finished lecturing, but you still have 10 minutes of class left? Get a jump on your chemistry homework while it’s still fresh in your mind. Or use the time to ask your teacher about concepts that were fuzzy the first time.

9. Look over your notes each night to make sure you've got it.

Fill in details, edit the parts that don’t make sense, and star or highlight the bits of information that you know are most important. Interacting with your notes will help you remember them. You can also use Homework Help to get your questions answered 24/7.

10. Study a little every day.

Cramming Spanish vocabulary for a quiz might work in the short-term, but when comes time to study for midterms, you’ll be back at square 1. You might remember the vocab list long enough to ace the quiz, but reviewing the terms later will help you store them for the long haul.

11. Don’t let a bad grade keep you down.

A rough start to the semester doesn’t have to sink your GPA. Take proactive steps by checking your grades regularly online and getting a tutor if you need one.

12. Make a friend in every class.

Find a few people you can contact from each of your classes if you have a homework question or had to miss class (and do the same for them!).  Then when it comes time to study for exams, you'll already have a study group.

The article will be below:

I hope this helps. Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️