#i was thinking of writing it with the format of an mla paper because he teaches eng hehehe

[queenklu]

Seeing AI discourse about writing college papers reminded me of the time I got Called In To A Professor's Office over a paper I wrote that he thought was plagiarized.

See, the thing I had realized about myself by that point was that I am...VERY BAD....at reading the assigned books. I have every intention of doing so while in class, but the instant I'm out of class the book no longer exists (what adhd). So by the end of the year I would always wind up getting screwed over in the book buy-back with books I'd literally never cracked the spine on, because it turned out speed-reading sparknotes could get me through class discussion and I'd developed a System(TM) for panic-writing an essay the night before.

This system was: find an online pdf of the book. Skim. Read summaries. Pull quotes from pdf. Bullshit. Estimate the page number for any citations because no one actually checks those, and use the publication data from the syllabus for the works cited. This works Very Well if you are, like me, a sarcastic asshole who knows teachers want to read an entertaining essay instead of yet another regurgitation of whatever sounds academically "best."

So here's this history class, which actually turns out to be an english class in disguise, and we are told to read and write an essay on The First Autobiography Ever Written in the English Language, which just so happens to be about a lady who had FOURTEEN kids, suffered a psychotic break, and spent the rest of her life campaigning to become a saint.

It's called The Book of Margery Kempe. I cannot express to you how smug I am to find a pdf of the exact same copy we'd been told to buy, down to the same publishing house and year of publication. I won't even have to bullshit page numbers.

...It's written in Middle English.

Here begynnyth a schort tretys and a comfortabyl for synful wrecchys, wherin thei may have gret solas and comfort to hem and undyrstondyn the hy and unspecabyl mercy of ower sovereyn Savyowr Cryst Jhesu, whos name be worschepd and magnyfyed wythowten ende, that now in ower days to us unworthy deyneth to exercysen hys nobeley and hys goodnesse....

This is fine, College!me thinks. A little tedious, but clearly the entire class has successfully done the reading enough to talk about it, so it must be doable. They probably had discussions about the language and I forgot to pay attention.

So I write the essay, pulling quotes from this middle english pdf that I can only half read, but that I can certainly form opinions about. Is it my best essay? No. Is it snarky? Yes. Is it in MLA format? That's mostly what they'll be checking for.

Then the Professor pulls me aside after class and asks to speak with me in his office. I have another class that I have to go to, and because I'm commuting in to college I won't be back on campus until two days later; he says that's fine, and all of this is settled and we've parted ways before it hits me how fucking fucked I am.

It must be the book.

He's going to call me out on not buying the book.

Can he tell I didn't read the book?

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

And I have two days to stew in it.

By the time our meeting rolls around I am a Mess. He is going to fail me. I am going to die. If I open my mouth at all I will burst into tears. Perhaps there is the slimmest chance if I act Normal this will be fine??????

P: So I read your essay...

Me: *using my Normal face* ⊙.☉

P: ...and I'm just wondering...

Me: ⊙.☉'

P: ...where you got the quotes?

Me: ⊙.☉'''

P: .....because the version of the book we read....isn't in Middle English.

Me: ⊙.☉??????????

P: I actually thought you might have plagiarized it--

Me: ⊙.☉!!!!!!!

P:--but to be honest it's written so entirely in your style that it's impossible this essay is plagiarized.

Me: ........⊙.☉.....

P: .... Anyway.

P: Just wanted to chat.

P: Uh. You're free to go.

Me:

HERE'S THE LESSONS LEARNED:

Just buy the book Cite the pdf. The professors Do Not Care how you've read the book as long as they can plausibly believe you've read it.

Just read the book Listen. I wasn't going to get anywhere near an ADHD diagnosis until my 30s. And if they can't tell you didn't read the book, then is it really the same as not reading the book? I think Margery would agree you gotta make some shit up to get anywhere in life.

Being a sarcastic asshole in my academic papers saved me from a plagiarism charge.

[adrienneleclerc]

Hi, could you write an Ajax Petropolus x latina!reader angst but a very fluffy ending where the reader is very much a perfectionist academically due to generational/ being a daughter or granddaughter of immigrants. And she feels in some way she's disappointing them or doesn't think they're good enough

Hey again! Of course I can write this, especially because I am the daughter of immigrants so I have felt the same way, especially in college since I’m on scholarship, this hits home.

High Achiever, Don’t You See?

Pairing: Ajax Petropolus x Latina!Reader

Summary: Y/N struggles with academic perfectionism, especially because her parents came to the United States and worked hard to give their kids the best education so Y/N thinks if she doesn’t get good grades, her parents’ hard work would have been for nothing.

Warning: I will probably be self projecting because it has happened to me and might still happen starting the spring semester, spelling errors like always

Y/N was lucky enough to have a dorm room to herself because she would spend most of her time studying and doing her homework until 3am, maybe even 5am, barely getting sleep. In her dorm, she had a desk with her laptop, a printer, and there was a hot plate with a moka pot to make her Cuban Coffees for the caffeine boost. Right now, she was finishing up a research paper, she written it in MLA format (I use APA because I’m studying health science), she’s checked for grammatical errors, her citations, it was all in order. She printed her paper and placed it on a folder. The paper was due next week, but she wanted to get it out of the way. After going over some information that her teacher was going to ask questions about in class, she went to bed around 2:45am.

The next day she woke up and made herself another Cuban coffee. She did her routine and out on her uniform so go downstairs. Someone touched her shoulder and she jumped.

“Hey, calm down, it’s just me.” Ajax said.

“Ay, papito, Don’t scare me like that.” Y/N said.

“I’m sorry, mama. Let’s get some breakfast, okay?” Ajax said. Ajax wrapped his arm around Y/N shoulders to walk to the cafeteria to get breakfast. They sat down after getting breakfast and Enid sat down with them.

“Good morning! How did you sleep?” Enid asked.

“Not well.” Y/N said.

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping for weeks, are you okay?” Ajax asked.

“Yeah yeah, im fine, sometimes I have trouble sleeping, it’s normal.” Y/N said.

“Okay then, after class you need a nap.” Enid said.

“Yeah sure, whatever you say.” Y/N said. After breakfast, they went to their first class.

Y/N was answering almost every single question that the teacher had to say “anyone besides Y/N” when asking questions. Almost all the classes were like that. However, midterms were in 2 weeks, and unlike her normie school, all her studying would have to be done in the library with books. When she went to her dorm room, she decided to video chat with her parents, something she does every Friday.

“Hola mami, hola papi!” Y/N said to her parents.

“Hola amor! Como te ha ido esta semana en clases? Has estado practicando tu poder (Hello love! How were your classes this week? Have you been practicing your power)?” Her dad asked.

“Me puedo transformar en un mapache, panda, a Shakira, Eugenio Derbez, hasta a un par de calcetas, practiqué muchísimo (i Can shapeshift into a raccoon, panda, into Shakira, Eugenio Derbez, even into a pair of socks, I’ve practiced a lot).” Y/N said.

“Y tus clases, princesa? Que cuentas (How about your classes, Princess? How were they)?” Her mom asked.

“Pues me ha ido bien, siempre saco 100 en mis tareas entonces me está yendo bien (Ive been doing well in class, I always get 100 on my homework so I’m doing well).” Y/N said,

“Esa es mi hija! Estamos muy orgullosos de ti, sigue esforzándote, sabemos que puedes, hablamos luego, hija (Thats my daughter! We are so proud of you, keep doing what you’re doing, we know you can do it, we’ll talk later)!” Her dad said hung up. After he hung up, Y/N took her backpack to go to the library and started pulling out all the books she needed for her midterms. She’ll go class by class, writing notes on anything the books explain further than what she has learned in class.

Meanwhile, Ajax was having lunch with his friends.

“Have you seen Y/N? I haven’t seen her since the bell rang.” Ajax said.

“I saw her go to the library.” Wednesday commented.

“Again? She been skipping lunch and dinner a lot recently, maybe something’s wrong.” Ajax commented.

“Maybe she’s not hungry, Ajax, don’t overthink it.” Bianca said. Maybe she was right, maybe Ajax needs to stop overthinking, Y/N will get food when she’s hungry.

He was wrong, the rest of the day, Y/N was in the library until one of the teachers told her it was late and that she should be in bed. Y/N missed her hunger cues the whole time, she was just drinking water while ready and taking notes. She lacked up her stuff and went to her dorm room and she saw Ajax, holding a takeout container.

“Whats this?” Y/N asked.

“I got Uber Eats, you haven’t eaten since lunch, that was 9 hours ago, you need to eat something, love.” Ajax commented, giving Y/N a spoon so she can eat the fried rice he ordered for her,

“I love you Ajax,” Y/N said,

“I love you too, I’m going to sleep with you tonight, okay? That way I can make sure you’re getting sleep, you’re worrying me.” Ajax said,

“You shouldn���t be worried Papito, I swear, I’m perfectly fine.” Y/N said, but Ajax being worried for her made her want to cry but she held it in,

“But i am so eat, out on your pajamas, do your nighttime routine, and get to bed. We’re going to watch TV while you eat.” Ajax said, Y/N nodded while she began eating the rice, she didn’t realize how hungry she was.

“Thank you.” Y/N said. She finished the rice in 20 minutes, changed in her pajamas, and brushes her teeth and did her nighttime skincare routine. When she was ready, she sat on her bed and hugged Ajax. “I love you, papito.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. I’m gonna change and then we can go to bed because you seriously need sleep.” Ajax said, kissing her forehead. When he came back in his pajamas, he got under the covers with Y/N and spooned her so they can go to sleep,

Ajax was a heavy sleeper so he didn’t notice that at 5am, Y/N got out of bed and sat at her desk to go over the notes she wrote. This information should be ingrained in her mind. Ajax woke up and he started to feel around the bed to see if Y/N was there but she wasn’t. He rubbed his eyes and saw her drinking coffee, going over her notes and doing homework.

“Y/N, It’s Saturday, what are you doing?” Ajax asked with his morning voice.

“I’m studying and doing homework, love, go back to sleep.” Y/N said.

“That’s what I’m supposed to say to you, go back to sleep, what time did you wake up anyway?” Ajax asked.

“I woke up at 5am to get a head start.” Y/N said and Ajax checked his phone.

“It’s barely 10, Y/N seriously, you need a break.” Ajax said, trying to pull her away from her desk.

“I Don’t need a break Ajax, I am fine, I can handle it.” Y/N said.

“Y/N, you don’t have to study 24/7, you can take breaks, have fun, it’s Saturday, let’s go have breakfast at the Jericho diner.” Ajax said.

“I Don’t need breakfast, I’m perfectly fine, midterms are in two weeks, I need to have all this information absorbed in my brain if I want an A.” Y/N said, going back to her desk but Ajax stopped her.

“You are putting yourself under too much pressure, if you keeping going on like this, you’re going to burn out, what are you trying to prove here?” Ajax asked her.

“I am trying to prove to my parents that I am not wasting their sacrifice, okay!” Y/N shouted and then plopped on the floor, like her legs gave out. “My parents left their home countries to come to the United States, they knew little English, they left EVERYONE behind, my grandparents, my aunts, uncles, cousins, all of them are in their countries. They came to the states with nothing, they had to do jobs they didn’t like to get by, stayed at friends houses until they had money to get an apartment, my dad took college classes to get a degree so he can get better jobs, they sacrificed so much for me and my siblings that if I don’t get good grades, I feel like I’m disappointing them because literally my only job to do as their daughter is be a good student and if I don’t do that then…” Y/N ranted while crying and she started hyperventilating, Ajax got down on the floor to hug Y/N.

“Breathe in and out, okay, focus on my heartbeat, it’s only the two of us, listen to my voice, you’re doing so well.” Ajax kept whispering positive things in Y/N’s ear until she calmed down. She pulled away from Ajax and wiped her tears away. Ajax then grabbed her face softly so she was looking right at him. “You are doing so well, you are at the top of your class, trust me, I know, Yoko overhears everything. Your parents would be so proud of you, but you need to give yourself breaks too. You can’t be all work and no play, that’s not good for your mental health. These past few weeks, you have been skipping meals, losing hours of sleep, been drinking so much cuban coffee, baby, you have dark circles. And not your normal hyperpigmentation eczema dark circles, the ones caused from lack of sleep, they’ve gotten darker. You need balance in your life. How about today we go into town, we get breakfast, no coffee for you, we go to the park, maybe shopping, we’ll spend the whole day in Jericho, does that sound good?” Ajax asked.

“That sounds great, thanks Papito.” Y/N said, hugging him tightly.

“Anything for you, mama. It would be so much better for you to get sleep but you had a little bit too much caffeine.” Ajax said.

“I live off caffeine, i Don’t even think it affects me anymore. But let’s get dressed and we can walk around Jericho,” Y/N said and Ajax kissed her softly.

The End

Hope you like it, sorry of it turned out short and rushed, SEND MORE AJAX REQUESTS, OUR FAVORITE GORGON NEEDS CONTENT!

[wmctutorbuddies]

WMC Buddies #2 - Brigit and A.J.

Have you had a session this semester (or in previous semesters) that altered your world perspective on a certain topic? What types of topics did you come across and how did you navigate this with your tutee?

Brigit: My first tutee was a Freshman in ENGL 105 who was only using strange block quotes in his essay without citing them in MLA format. It turned out that he had never previously learned how to do in text citations, and was surprised when I told him about putting the author's last name and page number in parentheses at the end of the sentence.

A.J.: Two semesters ago, I worked with a German business student who was in the process of learning English. He seemed very excited to learn the language, but was having some difficulties with some aspects of grammar. The content of the paper he wrote was very solid, but some sentences were a bit confusing because how they were laid out. I worked with him to make each of those sentences sound more clear, always taking the time to explain how changing them would help the flow of the essay. During our session, he was always actively listening to my suggestions, taking lots of notes, and even began editing things that we had previously discussed without me bringing them up. He ended up coming back every few weeks after that to make sure his grammar was okay, and every time I noticed substantial improvements. While grammar was the primary focus initially, as his writing became more clear, we were able to discuss more about ideas for the content of his work.

How did this session impact the way you tutor?

Brigit: My first session helped me to recognize how not all tutees have the same educational background. While some things, such as in-text citations, feel so natural to us now, there are new students who may have never learned how to use them, and that's okay. We just have to meet them where they are and help them learn what they need to learn.

A.J.: These sessions really changed my perspective of what it means to work with ELL students. While I had previously only thought of working with ELL students primarily as grammar checks, they are so much more than that. The WMC sessions were clearly making a big difference for this student, and he told me he learned a great deal about how the English language works by discussing his sentences with me. He also said it was a lot more comfortable being able to talk to me about grammar than a professor, and as such, he was able to learn more without the stress of being wrong.

Experienced tutors: What suggestions do you have for the new tutors who may come across someone who has a different view on topics?

A.J.: If a tutee is discussing a different opinion or point of view in their work that you don't necessarily agree with, I would say to just focus on the writing side of things and make sure they are articulating their points clearly. I think it's always a good habit to be open minded to points of view you don't agree with.

New tutors: How was your first tutoring session this semester?

Brigit: The session I previously discussed was the first one, and it went really well! The guy was super sweet and very receptive to all the feedback I have him on his journal. He was a bit nervous at the start, but I was able to joke around with him a bit to put him at ease. By the end of the session, he was feeling much more confident in his writing and was very appreciative of the session.

[phantomtutor]

A The Personal Descriptive Narrative Essay The requirements of this essay are as follows: 1. MLA Format The essay should be 2 pages, but at least two (2) full pages. Font: Times New Roman, double space, Font Size 12     2. Think about a time in your life that you overreacted to something someone else told you or that someone overreacted to something you said. Write a story about this event.     3. Write what you know. That means, this essay is about you and the event you went through. You may discuss how this event affected other people, but do not turn the essay into a diatribe against the other person.     4. This essay, more than any of the others, gives you the chance to write about yourself. As such, this acceptable and recommended. Third person (he, she, or it) may also be used     5. Narratives are usually linear in nature. There is a beginning, middle, and end. Be sure to include transitions to make the paper read smoothly. "First," "After," "Then," and "Next" are just a few that move the reader along. Important Tips to remember  1. Remember to involve your audience. You want to recreate the event, not simply tell the story. Use visual and sensory details.  2. Your thesis does not have to be as concrete in this essay as in others you will write, but there must be one there, implied or otherwise. Yes, this is about you, but your audience is still important. The meaning that you gained from this incident should be a universal meaning to which the reader can relate.  3. Remember that although the main component of a narrative is the story, you still must back up what you say. Details must be carefully selected to support, explain, and enhance the story.  4. Remember, narrative form is story-telling form; as stories, they should include these story conventions: a plot (including setting and characters), a climax; and an ending.   Sample Outline of Narrative Essay I. Introduction (one paragraph)    A. Background information or any other relevant information about the story in general.    B. Specific Moment and Thesis of Essay (i.e. "I never understood how important it was to learn self-defense until I was attacked outside my apartment.") II. Body (at least three paragraphs–do not limit yourself, though)    A. The Point leading up to the moment of realization        1. Detail! Feelings, emotions, observations help fill out your paper.    B. The actual moment        1. Don’t forget to recreate tension, anxiety, relief and compare to concrete, universal ideas your reader would understand    C. The results of the actual moment        1. Lessons learned. Add closure to this story. Ask yourself questions that the reader might ask and make sure they are answered here.. III. Conclusion (one paragraph)    A. Restate major points (refer back to incident and lessons learned, but don’t get too redundant.)    B. Restate thesis – don’t just cut and paste from intro!  (Example: "I would suggest that everyone take a self–defense class because learning self–defense can help people save their own lives") ORDER THIS PAPER NOW. 100% CUSTOM PAPER CategoriesEnglish, MLA Leave a Reply Cancel replyYour email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *Comment * Name * Email * Website Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Post navigation Previous PostPrevious Nursing deliveryNext PostNext Theories of criminal behavior

[cakesunflower]

a court of golden shadows: elain archeron and azriel endgame

so this is like an 11 page paper i wrote on why i think Elain Archeron and Azriel from Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses are endgame. i made a joke on twitter that i’d write a proper MLA format styled paper on them because i love them so much and a bunch of my moots convinced me to do it so here i am.

this is for the Elriel lovers like myself. if you read it, which you don’t have to, please refrain from commenting anything negative. everyone is entitled to their own opinions, and this whole essay is just my opinion on it. so if you read, i hope you enjoy!!

keep in mind, it’s LONG.

         A Court of Golden Shadows: Elain Archeron and Azriel Endgame

Sarah J. Maas’s fantasy series A Court of Thorns and Roses displays epic, world-shattering love stories among the thrilling action and fantastical elements present throughout the novels, as seen in the romance between Feyre Archeron and Rhysand and, most recently, Nesta Archeron and Cassian. Two sisters have already accepted and embraced the (so-called) rare mating bond with their respective counterparts, yet the question remains on what is to happen with the middle sister, Elain Archeron, who apparently has a mating bond of her own with Lucien Vanserra, but has not, for two books and a novella, made any indication of accepting it. However, Elain, in her quiet, gentle way, has shown to be more attentive towards the Night Court’s resident Shadowsinger and Spymaster, Azriel. Who, in turn, has notably started to move on from a five-century long love harbored for another female and gravitating towards the last remaining Archeron sister.

It can be said that the concept of the three Archeron sisters all ending up with the three Illyrian males is a cliché, but if done right, they can capture the reader in their grasp—one that no one would want to get out of. Taking a look at the novels, particularly starting from the second book, A Court of Mist and Fury, since this is where Azriel’s character is introduced, it is difficult to ignore the fact that Maas has been laying the groundwork for Elain and Azriel—or Elriel, as I will refer to them throughout this paper—to be a couple from the moment they met, whether these hints are subtle or obvious. In chapter 24 of ACOMAF where Feyre, the Illyrian faes, and her sisters have dinner together, we see tentative interactions between Elain and Azriel, despite the two of them having just met and Elain, as a mortal who grew up with stories of the terrors of faeries, seems to look towards the spymaster more. The first glimpse of their interaction, no matter how small, is shown on pages 253-254 when “a faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork”. Though this moment can be overlooked, it is only the first of many oncoming moments of Azriel noticing Elain and her actions, a subtle hint of the spymaster’s attention towards Elain. The focus of attention is returned when Elain then turns to Azriel a few pages later, wanting to know more about their ability to fly, even so far as going to say “That’s very beautiful” when Azriel describes Illyrians as being “born hearing the song of the wind” (256-257). Additionally, there are two moments in this particular chapter where Elain, in some semblance, looks towards Azriel as a way of relaxing herself. The first is noted when Azriel’s attention is said to be on Elain, and he offers her a “polite, bland smile”, and Feyre notices how Elain’s “shoulders loosened a bit” in response to it (256). Rather than looking towards Feyre for indicators during an unexpected dinner with faeries, Elain seems to be more drawn to looking at Azriel, which is shown once again in the following passage: “Rhys chuckled, Cassian’s wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well” (258). Elain tends to check everyone’s reactions to the circumstances to determine the levels of tension in the atmosphere, but she truly seems to be put at ease when she notices Azriel’s own relaxed state, once again indicating the attention she pays to him from the moment they met.

The first three books in Maas’s series are told through Feyre’s perspective, so it can be said that our perception of and desire for Elain and Azriel getting together is skewed because of the point of view we are given. I, however, consider this to be a moot point because Feyre’s character is the type to notice everything around her. She comes to grow close to both Azriel and Cassian, and with Elain being her sister, the reader can depend on Feyre as being as much of a reliable narrator to tell us exactly what she sees and how she sees it. With this in mind, some of the examples given will be from Feyre’s own musings, but it is important to note that she, more than once, groups Elain and Azriel together. This is shown when, in chapter 49, Feyre is distracting Rhysand as she tries to take care of his wounds and muses about her sisters visiting Velaris. There, Feyre mentions to Rhysand, “I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet”, before proceeding to think to herself—and the reader, “I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together” (487). Of course, this observation is followed by the acknowledgement of Azriel quietly loving Mor, as he has for centuries, yet what we don’t know, during this, that this wouldn’t remain an issue for long.

Moving on to focus on the third installment of the series, A Court of Wings and Ruin, there is a solemnity surrounding Elain, who, at the end of the second novel, was forcefully turned into fae against her will. After the transformation, Elain has become a shell of who she used to be, trapped in a state of deep mourning of the humanity she lost, of the love of her fiancé she inevitably lost, too. She doesn’t eat nor does she speak to anyone, an empty yet no less beautiful version of herself as her Cauldron given powers, unbeknownst to everyone else, manifest. But even in her state, in her indifference towards her mate Lucien and yearning for her human fiancé Graysen, Elain managed to acknowledge Azriel. He is gentle with her, much like everyone else, as he carries her into the townhouse, smiles, inquires if she’d like for him to show her the garden. And although he stands tall, intimidating in his fighting leathers and large wings, Elain does not recoil from him in fear or shyness. Instead, she takes the arm he offers her and, although it is unsure if she is looking at his Siphon or his scarred hands, she still utters “Beautiful” in response to him (254). Even when life has unexpectedly turned bleak for Elain, even when the world loses its color in the aftermath of the trauma she suffered, in that moment, there was a glimpse of who she used to be as she found beauty in nothing but Azriel.

This same chapter is followed by an insightful conversation between Feyre and Rhysand, triggered by Feyre watching her sister and Azriel. Feyre notes how at odds Azriel looks sitting in the garden next to Elain in his armor, yet she still questions, “Why not make them mates?” (257). This spurs a significant conversation between the High Lord and High Lady, where readers are given some more history on mating bonds and introduced to the prevailing concept of rejected bonds. Rhys provides examples of ill-chosen bonds, such as his parents, who were mates yet their relationship was not ideal in the least. Here, we are told that sometimes fate, the Mother, whatever chooses two mates can be wrong in its pairings, and it is rare for the bond to bring together “true, paired souls” (258) like Feyre and Rhysand. It has been established that the female can reject the bond, and while the male may feel the tug of it, it’s their burden to push through it. Maas spends an entire page or so talking about the concept of ill-chosen or rejected bonds, so it would be naive to look over these details if they weren’t placed in the storyline for a reason. Elain and Lucien may be mates, and Azriel (at least currently within the book) may be in love with Mor, but the idea of free will is not something to be so easily dismissed. Elain already had the choice of her humanity, her mortality, ripped away from her—it’s doubtful she would let this pattern continue.

In chapter 24 of A Court of Wings and Ruin, when Elain is having her first conversation with Lucien, she states, “No one ever looked—not really” (252), and although here she is referencing Graysen, this statement comes around a few chapters later. In chapter 27, Elain walks in on a conversation amongst the Inner Circle, and Azriel was the first to step forward as he noticed something amiss. His observations and questions when he says to her, “[But] you heard something else” and “What did you see” indicate that he, unlike Feyre and Nesta, believes that Elain’s riddled musings have a deeper meaning and need to be heard. The scene ends with Feyre looking to Azriel, noticing that his “hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away” (287). Azriel didn’t brush off what Elain said, because while her sisters thought Elain had gone mad, Azriel listened to her—he looked. He looked past her “too-thin body” and read between the lines of what she said, and knew there was more than what meets the eye. He looked, which was exactly what Elain had wanted.

This is repeated in chapter 32, when Elain brings up another queen and no one is quite sure what she’s talking about, except for Azriel, who steps forward and gently prods Elain to elaborate. Even Lucien watches Elain warily, questioning if they need to help her, yet Azriel is firm in his assessment that Elain doesn’t need help, that they need to be the ones who need to listen, before ultimately determining that she does, in fact, have powers and is established to be a seer. So while Lucien “stared and stared at [Elain], as if he’d never seen her before”, it was Azriel who actually looked at her and saw what no one else was seeing, whose acknowledgment of her gift and the attention he brought to it from everyone else “freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in” (336).

The idea of Azriel truly looking at Elain transitions into him looking for her, too. But first, another example of the former is seen in chapter 63, when Feyre, Nesta, and Amren hear the call of the cauldron in the middle of the night. They wonder about it, question why they three heard it because they were Made, not noticing that another who was Made was missing from their group. That is, until, Azriel asks, “What about Elain?” (560), and he is moving alongside the sisters to inspect Elain’s tent, only to find her missing. Azriel notices Elain—whether she is present or not. And so the concept of Azriel looking for Elain is introduced when they are discussing Elain’s rescue from Hybern in the following scene:

“From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”” (563).

There was no hesitation on Azriel’s part in being the one to get Elain back, but there was obvious rage, as noted, in his gaze at the very idea of Elain having been kidnapped. A silent, lethal aura surrounds the shadowsinger that can be so clearly picked out within that scene, showcasing Azriel’s unwavering determination in returning Elain, even if it meant slipping into the heart of enemy camps—especially if it meant that. And throughout the dangers and urgency of this particular mission, when they do reach Elain, Azriel takes a moment to be tender towards her as he “gently removed the gag from her mouth” (573) and asks if she’s hurt. Elain, in turn, is shown to be “devouring the sight of him, as if not quite believing it” before she says “You came for me” (573). Elain looks at Azriel in wonder and disbelief, and this reaction hints towards how she feels drawn towards him. In their very first meeting during the dinner in the Archeron house, Elain looks to Azriel for reassurance, for judgement of the situation, and in the event of her rescue, she finds that same kind of comfort on a far more intense level. Because here, he truly is her rescuer, appearing in front of her to save her from the dangerous hands of their enemies and bring her to safety. And Azriel, in this sense, is devoted to her, holding up his fierce promising of getting her back. Even when he was injured, Azriel held onto Elain, refusing to let her go even while getting shot at and chased, and when they landed in their own camps, the first thing he claimed was for someone to get the chains off of her, rather than even mentioning his own injuries. This just reminds us of ACOMAF when Elain was being dragged to the cauldron and Azriel wasn’t even conscious to witness it—there is no doubt that if he was awake—and uninjured—he would’ve done all he could to save her. Maas robbed us of that type of scene.

Furthermore, evolving from the concept of Azriel rescuing Elain, we get another significant scene between the two of them that displays the kind of trust these two characters smoothly and effortlessly developed. On top of Elain accepting Azriel’s offers of taking her to the garden, a silent indicator that his company was one she enjoyed, Azriel shows a great act of trust to Elain as well when, in chapter 69, he offered her the use of his beloved knife, Truth-Teller. This blade is Azriel’s most prized possession, and to offer it to Elain to bring her the same kind of comfort and safety that we have seen she finds in Azriel himself portrays the trust he has in her—and his desire to protect her. This is emphasized when Rhys tells Feyre, “Never. . . I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife” (610). Even Cassian was stunned that Azriel would let someone else use Truth-Teller, which is significant to note given that he has not let even Cassian nor Rhys—his brothers he has known for centuries—even touch it. And Elain, who had refused to take the knife Cassian had offered her, ends up accepting Truth-Teller—because it’s Azriel’s, and because through the short time she’s known him, he is someone she has poured her trust into and understands he wouldn’t lead her astray. And he didn’t, for it was Elain who “stepped out of a shadow” (653) and used that very same blade to kill the King of Hybern. A temporary gift, given from Azriel, that she used to put an end to one of the greatest threats to both the human and faerie realms.

In the post-war novella A Court of Frost and Starlight, Maas furthers the Elriel endgame agenda by continuing both subtle and blatant hints in their favor—and not just through actual interactions between the two. The concept of Azriel avoiding Lucien because of his mating bond with Elain is important to remember, for it will come back around later. But in this novella, we see it when Rhysand asks Azriel if he keeps an eye on Lucien, given that he is the spymaster. Azriel, in turn, informs him that he does not track his movements, because “He is Elain’s mate” and “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him”, which Rhysand, since this is shown from his perspective, notes is because Azriel does not want to be aware of if and when Lucien seeks out Elain, and what they do together—if they do anything at all, given Elain’s tendencies to utterly ignore Lucien (70). Rhysand questions Azriel’s motives on this, but doesn’t get a response, but there is an understanding of Azriel’s intentions behind it. Not only does he want to remain ignorant of the forced bond between Elain and Lucien, but a big motivator for him is also Elain’s privacy, which he doesn’t want to intrude on—ironic, given that he is a spy, and it’s his job to know of others’ movements and thoughts.

Another example of Azriel very subtly showing his blossoming feelings towards Elain is when he unforgivingly states that if Lucien were to kill Elain’s ex-fiancé, then “good riddance” (71). He was well aware of how Graysen treated Elain after finding out she was fae, is the one who sits with her in the gardens because he is a comforting presence for her in the face of mourning, so he understands her. This idea is repeated in Azriel’s bonus chapter in A Court of Silver Flames, when Rhysand catches Azriel almost about to kiss Elain—that is definitely to be unpacked later—and warns him that Lucien has the right to invoke a Blood Duel to defend the mating bond, and Azriel does not hesitate, is confident, when he retorts that he would easily defeat Lucien, would have no problem in pulling Elain out of a bond she doesn’t even want.

The novella also includes some more obvious, sweet moments between Elain and Azriel, ones that show Elain’s own growing interest and feelings towards Azriel. Like in chapter 12, when Feyre notes that when Azriel enters the room, she feels Elain freeze at the sight of him, and then Elain proceeds to be almost in a trance when Azriel, after she greets him, moves towards her and takes the heavy dish of potatoes from her hands and says he’ll take care of it for her (105). This scene then continues when Elain hurries off to make herself more presentable, and rather than letting others dive into the food, Azriel stops Cassian from putting food on his plate and all but commands him to “wait until everyone is seated before eating” (106). Rhysand informs Feyre that this sudden reaction from Azriel stemmed from the treatment his mother received as a near servant, but it can also be tied to how Azriel keeps aware of Elain and the recurring theme of looking after her in any way. He notices her, just as she notices him, a subtle way of this being present in Elain’s solstice gift to Azriel. She doesn’t get a gift for Lucien, her mate, but does get one for Azriel, one that makes him laugh in a way that, Feyre notes, she’s never heard before. A genuine sort of joy breaking the cold, indifferent mask of the shadowsinger as he accepts and cherishes the gift Elain gave him—the extent of which we see in his bonus chapter, where it is revealed that he looks at the small vial every night before going to sleep, a not-so-subtle showing that Elain is the last thought on his mind before he descends into slumber.

This notion of the two of them looking after one another in their own ways is again repeated in A Court of Silver Flames in the following passage on page 221:

Azriel smirked. “You and Nesta are wanted down there.”

“Because of the shit with Elain?”

Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened.

Throughout the friendship they have formed, Azriel becomes a kind of protector of Elain’s, deriving from her being a part of their Inner Circle as well as the notion of Azriel’s own personal feelings for her. He is so obviously shown as going on the defense at the news of Elain getting into any kind of fight, of Elain potentially being hurt. It’s repeated on page 233 when Elain and Nesta are arguing, and after Nesta utters a nasty comment that lands on Elain like a blow, there is an acknowledgement of the “shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike”. The shadows, of course, are Azriel’s, ready to jump between the sisters and defend Elain from Nesta’s verbal attack, to once again be her protector.

Of course, we can’t forget that Elain has a mate in Lucien, and how it seems to offer the enticing forbidden love trope between her and Azriel. We see a hint of it in A Court of Wings and Ruin, when in chapter 24, Lucien can scent where Elain had gone off to and who she’d gone with, in this case having it be Azriel, and he’d nearly snarled until Rhysand assured him that Azriel wasn’t the “ravishing type” (254)—although I think we can all agree that he most likely is, but wouldn’t even dream of it in terms of the state Elain was in at the time. Maybe it is the mating bond or maybe it’s both Elain and Azriel’s quiet personalities—or perhaps a combination of the two—but the shyness that has them looking at each other and then looking away continues. On page 467 of A Court of Silver Flames, Cassian notes how Elain nods shyly towards Azriel, who in turn offers her a small smile that she quickly looked away from, prompting Cassian to be puzzled as he wondered, “Lucien was certainly not here to snarl at any male who looked at her for too long”. Elain doesn’t look away from Azriel because of the bond, but perhaps because she is well aware of her feelings for him and, for the moment, is too shy for them to be known, especially by Azriel.

The mating bond between Elain and Lucien does serve as a barrier between her and Azriel, though. This is particularly present during the Winter Solstice, when a layer of Azriel’s character specifically has been peeled back to show his feelings for Elain. Like on page 597, when Elain is laughing at Nesta, the older Archeron sister notes that “Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it”. And if that wasn’t enough, Nesta watches as Azriel’s “gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting”. This is perhaps the most prominent moment of both of their feelings being reciprocated by the other, because Nesta notices the way they look at one another, as if they both see past the person they put in front of everyone else and truly see the other. And even Nesta understands that there is something deeper between the two, even if they themselves haven’t figured it out yet, when she approaches Azriel where he stands by the doorway and, when asked why he doesn’t sit, responds with a “pretty lie” of his shadows not liking the fire. But Nesta looks to where Elain is the one sitting by the fire, and why Azriel chooses to stand as far as he can, because it is “his secret to tell. Never hers” (600). Just like that, Nesta is aware of Azriel’s feelings for her sister and, perhaps, her subtle way of comforting him was her showing her approval.

We get a deeper insight of this scene in Azriel’s bonus chapter—an entire chapter that allows readers to see exactly how he feels about Elain, and that she returns those feelings, too. It is confirmed that Azriel stands by the doorway, away from Elain, because Lucien is in the same room, and the sight and scent of their mating bond is one that Azriel cannot stand. Because the female he feels deeply for, according to fate, “belongs” to another male and he needs to put distance between himself and the two of them when they’re in the same room. Yet, the mating bond doesn’t prevent Azriel from thinking of Elain, from fantasizing about her every night. He goes from being shown as relieved when Rhys tells him he doesn’t have to buy the sisters presents for the Winter Solstice in A Court of Frost and Starlight, to actively buying her a beautiful flower necklace that she would no doubt love. Their secret exchanging of gifts leads to an epic, steamy, full-of-yearning almost first kiss that shows so clearly that Azriel’s feelings for Elain aren’t unrequited, that she, just like him, is desperate to give into what’s been brewing between them for so long. Yet it’s all cut short when Rhys interrupts Azriel, reminding him of a mating bond that Azriel’s painfully aware of—and confidently willing to pull Elain away from if Lucien decides to invoke the Blood Duel. Azriel’s questioning of the cauldron, wondering why it picked three sisters and had two of them end up with his brothers while the last remaining one was mated to another, is not him declaring that he has a right to Elain. This is him questioning the powers and forces that no one truly understands, this is him questioning from a place of heartbreak, wondering why, yet again, he was the one left behind. It happened when his father imprisoned him, forcing Azriel to delay in his training as an Illyrian, it happened when the female he spent centuries loving never once returned the same kind of love, and now it’s happening again. Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain—it goes against his character, because he is self-deprecating, does not think he truly deserves anything good and worthy. He is simply questioning why his choice doesn’t ever seem to matter, and why Elain is yet again left having her decisions being taken away from her.

Because the matter of choice is a prevalent, significant theme for the two of them. For Elain, she was never allowed to truly make a choice in her life. Her mother’s death, her family falling into poverty, turning into High Fae, losing Graysen, the mating bond, her father’s death—these were all huge, significant life changing moments that she had no say in and was forced to endure, completely upending who she was and how she lived. But there is one choice Elain can make, and that is to reject the mating bond with Lucien. There are so many examples throughout the books where Elain turns away from Lucien; she doesn’t express any interest in him—it’s like he doesn’t even exist to her. There is utter indifference on her end, despite any effort made by Lucien, and that in itself is Elain choosing to all but formally reject the bond, however that may come about. There is a moment in A Court of Wings and Ruin in chapter 54 when Elain, while pleading with Graysen, claims, “I belong to no one. My heart belongs to you” (498). Of course, Azriel has nothing to do with what Elain was saying at the time, but her declaration of this speaks to her character and how dearly she holds onto the idea of being with someone of her own choosing, with someone she loves. This can further be developed into the idea that although fate, the cauldron, the Mother may have chosen Lucien for Elain—a pairing that can, ultimately, be ill-chosen—Elain would not give it the time of day unless it’s what her heart wants. And from what we have seen so far, her heart wants Azriel. She chooses Azriel over Lucien, and that holds significant weight to her and, I imagine eventually, to Azriel as well.

Azriel, who has not been other people’s choice. Azriel, who was imprisoned by his own father, who was rejected by the Illyrians. Azriel, who has spent five centuries loving Mor, who will never love him the way he did her. And it’s saying something, isn’t it, that he has finally stopped yearning for her, and that it was Elain who he is enraptured by? Even Cassian noted that the way Azriel used to look at Mor have become few and far in between, telling the audience that the spymaster has finally begun to move on, or already has, from Mor. And Elain wanting to kiss Azriel confirms to him, in particular, that he is her choice as well. And she is his, as further confirmed when Azriel tells Rhys he has no problem engaging in the Blood Duel with Lucien if it means freeing Elain from a bond she doesn’t want, and allowing them both to dive into the choices they clearly want to make.

Truthfully, there are many examples throughout the books where I can talk about Elain rejecting Lucien. She cringed away from the very first time he touches her in ACOMAF—though, granted, it happens right after she comes out of the cauldron. She is unsettled when Lucien tugs on their bond, saying that it felt as though he pulled on a thread connecting to a rib, which sounds painful and nothing like the comforting bond readers have seen between Feyre and Rhys. Elain doesn’t buy Lucien any presents for solstice, and the first present he got her, gardening gloves to prevent her hands from tearing, are ones she doesn’t use. Because she would much rather feel her hands get torn up while she’s working in her garden, uncaring if they scar, which in turn is a reminder of Azriel’s scarred hands and how she found them beautiful. And for those who wonder about Azriel giving the necklace he got for Elain to Gwyn, it is important to note that he tells Clotho to give it to any priestess who would want it, and merely mentions Gwyn by name because he trained her, because he was the one who rescued her after an attack, and she is the one he knows most familiarly by name because of it. At the end of it, Azriel only wanted the necklace gone because he didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to remember that the female he wants, wants him back just as much, but he was all but forbidden to pursue her. Once again, a choice that was taken away from him, and giving the necklace away is far easier than keeping it and remembering how he couldn’t be with Elain. At least for now.

Throughout the novels, there are many symbols that hint towards Elain and Azriel being together, but that is a paper for another day. This one’s goal was to simply point out the many physical and emotional indicators of the way the two of them are drawn to one another, despite the obstacles that are thrown their way—the biggest one being the mating bond no one asked for. There is comfort in the relationship they have, an ease you wouldn’t expect someone with Elain’s light to find in Azriel’s darkness. He offers her comfort in shy smiles and soft looks, and Elain does the same for him, which we see in the act of his shadows disappearing around her. These very shadows provided him comfort when he needed them, were his friends in his prison, and them leaving him when Elain is around is a sign of the contentment Azriel feels, because he doesn’t have to protect himself in her presence. Azriel loved Mor, and it has been noted that he lights up when she is around, and Elain is the only other person he reacts similarly to—because Elain is who he wants now that he has moved on from Mor. It’s important, isn’t it, that Elain is who pulls Azriel away from the centuries-long love he’d been lost in? That she is who he looks for, thinks about, wonders after?

Elain has found comfort in Azriel’s darkness, and he has found peace in her light, and so how could they not defy what’s been expected of them and rewrite fate to fit the choices they make themselves?

[187days]

Day Seventeen

One of my seniors came in this morning with lipstick kiss marks all over his face. Why? How? No idea. I don’t ask these things. 

I just got on with the teaching, which went very well! I had students in groups again- slightly bigger ones today (4-6 students as opposed to 3-4)- in order to read and discuss Brutus 1. After they’d talked about the text in small groups, we talked as a whole class, and were able to go point by point through the Anti-Federalist argument against the ratification of the Constitution. A few students observed that, even though the Anti-Federalists lose the ratification debate, a lot of the points in Brutus 1 are valid and still relevant. 

Spoilers for future classes, kids.

Their homework is to tackle Federalist 10 (and tomorrow’s classwork will be Federalist 51). I told them it’s the most reading I’ll ever assign in one week, and that Fed. 10 is probably the toughest single piece, so if they can handle this, they can handle pretty much anything else I throw at them.  

And, speaking of throwing things at students, I threw a content quiz at my ninth graders. I mean that metaphorically, but one of them folded his into a paper airplane and literally threw it back at me with the joking request that I give him credit “for the invention” instead of actually making him, y’know, answer the quiz questions. That was amusing. 

Content quizzes are something I used to do and decided to start doing again. At the start of the unit, I give out a guide with the big questions on it (ie- what are examples of aspects of culture, how are cultures influenced by their geography/environment); the quiz is those same questions. Students can refer back to any of their notes, handouts, assignments- but not to their electronic devices- for their answers. That’s it. So today a few valuable lessons were learned about studying and organization, and I think a few students may ask to do retakes, but no one did abysmally bad or anything. 

After the quiz, I introduced the first major project: to research any culture in the word, and create a multimedia presentation describing 3-5 (depending on level) of its characteristics, and cite all sources in MLA format. Culture Projects are a chance for students to study a high-interest topic and demonstrate the research, writing, and citation skills they’ve been practicing. And, ultimately, what I’m going to do after they’ve finished their projects is prove a claim I made today: all cultures can be impacted by current issues, and/or respond to current issues and make changes. This is the big, final point for the unit.

Did students in my Block 3 class pause their project work to ask a handful of random questions (”Miss M, is it against the law to name your kid certain things?”) Yes, yes, they did. It’s all good, though.

Ms. A came by during lunch to vent a bit because a student had blown up at her- like, 0 to 100, had to be escorted out by another teacher- so I listened and tried to give some advice. But, as we were talking, Dean 1 came in because he was looking for her; he wanted to assure her that the student was being dealt with quickly, and that the process isn’t just going to be a suspension with no follow up. The student has to write an apology, there’s going to be a meeting (or multiple meetings, if need be) about how to re-enter Ms. A’s class and avoid repeating this behavior. Ms. A and I both said we really liked that process, and the speed with which it’s happening (being understaffed last year dragged discipline down), and I liked that Dean 1 also told her that he knows she’s doing her best, and what happened isn’t on her; she didn’t “drag those words out of the student’s mouth,” as he said. She’s only a second-year, so it’s important that she hears that. 

If this is how he’s going to be, then I like Dean 1′s style.

[jtrbluv]

we’re not really strangers | pjm

summary: We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones. Ready?

or alternatively,

your furtive infatuation with your lifelong best friend proves to be hard to suppress when there’s (1) alcohol involved and (2) a card game that forces you to reveal more about yourself than you could ever wish for. in short, no, you are not ready.

[friends to lovers!au]

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, crack, slight angst

word count: 8.7k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, two emotionally constipated best friend, PG-15

A/N: hi, i’ve been really excited about this fic for a while, and i’m genuinely so happy that i finally finished it! the card game is in fact real and i got inspired for this fic after i had played the game with a couple of friends myself. AHEM! @koushiningg​ ! we both cried and i do highly recommend to play it! but anyways, i hope you enjoy this fic because i had a lot of fun writing it! sending love always... jumi out!

EDIT: @bangtans-peaceful-piegon​ i’d also like to thank the lovely pidge for beta reading this 4 me as well! PIDGE I FUCKIN LOB U!!! 

PLAYLIST ; SEQUEL

♤ ♤ ♤

Not once in your life did you ever imagine a simple card game to become the bane of your existence. 

Yet Park Jimin was able to prove you wrong. 

Let’s play ‘We’re Not Really Strangers’ he said. It’ll be fun, he said.

You stare down at the card in front of you—everything else in your periphery was blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart. 

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the room who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you. 

Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage. 

The white card with crimson red writing made sure to leave an impact, making you feel the most ridiculed you’ve felt all night which says a lot—leaving your mind in a complete frenzy although you refused to let it be known. 

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on your body, especially your heart. 

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in. 

But then you remember that you aren’t that pathetic. Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now. Up to the point where you could probably hear the crickets chirping outside his apartment, except the only sound that was filling your ears was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being. 

Your face may be gradually morphing the same shade of crimson as the writing inscribed onto the card itself, and you may have a whole line of sweat encompassing your hairline. But it’s just a stupid little card game. You could say any stupid little answer and the stupid not-so-little boy wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care. So you shouldn’t care. 

When did you become so pathetic after all?

-one hour and a half ago-

“Why can’t we just play Mario Kart or Uno? This sounds like there’s too much thinking involved,” you whine, leaning against the side of his couch. 

“One, we always play that. And two, I always lose,” he grumbles, plopping down onto the floor.

Jimin rests his back on the frame of the couch as he sits in the small gap made by the large piece of furniture and the coffee table that resided in front of it. You decide to sit on the floor as well, around an arm’s length away from your friend. He places the red box down onto the table—opening the cap and revealing the contents with a mischievous glint in his irises. 

Within the box was a deck of cards, separated into three piles with two pencils on either side. Knowing Jimin, you assumed this game had an ulterior motive you were unaware of, and by the title of the game, you could already tell that you weren’t going to like it very much. 

“How do you even play this?” You ask, causing him to look up in return.

He bites his lip, taking a couple seconds to ponder on your question, “I don’t know it’s my first-time playing too,” he shrugs. “I was watching Jin and Namjoon playing it a couple of weeks ago and for some reason, Jungkook started crying.”

“He is a sap,” you hum in agreement, thinking in retrospect of Jungkook crying from various situations such as Iron Man dying or that one time Jin farted on his pillow and he got pink eye for a whole week. 

“The biggest,” he concurs, “Hm, there’s no instructions in here.” He mutters while shuffling through the cards. 

“Why don’t you just search it up?” You suggest, sliding the box to yourself as he nods and fishes his phone out of his pocket. 

While holding the box in the palm of your hand, you scan the contents—turning it around in your palm until your eyes narrow in on the words printed at the bottom. 

“Oh, it says something here.”

His head perks up. “Hm? What is it?”

You clear your throat at the sight of the long explanation. “We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones.” You internally grimace at the words. The game hasn’t even started and you already had a bad feeling about it all. “Ready?” You say through clenched teeth, purposely keeping your head hung low. 

Jimin’s lips quirk up into a cheerful grin, unaware of the piercing stare you were giving him. “Okay, I think I got it,” he declares, eyes zeroed in on his phone once more, ”There’s three levels—perception, connection, and reflection. Each level we pass, the deeper and more thought-provoking the questions get. Helping us make a deeper connection and get to know each other better yadda yadda yadda.”

You nod in understanding, sliding the box of cards back towards him—forcing the grimace that kept threatening to plaster itself onto your face into a small, smug smile. 

“The first thing we have to do,” he begins, taking out two pencils and two small pieces of paper, “is write messages to each other. We won’t be able to open these until after we leave.” He explains, sliding a pencil and paper towards you.

“Wow, very cryptic,” you tut, biting down on your bottom lip before more distasteful remarks decided to leave your lips. He doesn’t catch your reaction or your comment though because he’s already got his pencil in his hand, scribbling vigorously onto the tiny piece of paper. Knowing him it could very well be nonsensical insults and doodles, or a whole essay about your friendship and what you mean to him. Most likely ludicrous and full of thought, either way, just like him. 

Without much thought, you lazily jot onto the paper.

know that i love u, u fucker <3 

-y/n

The sound of your pencil falling against the table causes him to look up at you, eyes knit together in confusion. 

“You’re done already?”

You chuckle, “I mean, I wasn’t going to write an essay. You already know how I feel about you. But it seems like you’re writing one though.”

His eyes narrow in on you—giving you an indiscernible look before letting out a small ‘hmph’ and lowering his focus back down to his pencil and paper. You dismiss his enigmatic behavior—deciding to mindlessly scroll on your phone while waiting for him to finish his MLA formatted essay.

Two minutes pass and you hear the sound of his pencil being placed onto the table. “Done.”

“You added citations too right?”

He scoffs, “No, but i’ll gladly add some if you’d like.” 

You roll your eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time in the last five minutes, “Just start the goddamn game.”

He takes the first stack of cards and shuffles them between his hands. “In all three levels, there are wild cards or basically dares we have to complete. And for each level, we get two ‘dig deeper’ cards. Pretty self-explanatory. So this is the perception level. It’s basically designed for first encounters and strangers, and we’re gonna be asking each other questions about ourselves.”

Your eyes widen at the whole confidentiality of it all. “Are we going through all of those cards?” You blurt out, staring at what seemed to be like 50 cards in his hands. 

“Oh no,” he quickly refutes, “It would take hours. We’ll just do like 12 cards each.”

“Alright,” you huff, letting out a small breath of relief. 

“Yay! Okay I’ll go first,” he beams, his toothy smile evident as he places the deck in between the two of you while grabbing a card from the top, “What do you think my name is?”

You snort at the conspicuousness of the question, “Jamal.”

He immediately guffaws at your response, throwing his head back in addition. “Hey, I don’t mind that.”

“Are all of the questions like this?” You say in between hushed laughter. 

“Nah,” he shakes his head as you pick up another card from the deck, “now you ask me.”

“Alright, what’s the first thing you noticed about me?” You ask, slightly taken aback by the sudden earnestness of the question, causing you to become genuinely curious about what his answer was going to be.

He hums, taking a second to think it through. “I think your smile and your laugh. It’s always been really contagious since the day I met you.” He admits, almost matter-of-factly as if it was something you should’ve known by now, yet you did not. 

Your heart nearly disintegrates into a puddle of goop right then and there, but you manage to conceal your reaction, “Aw, you actually like me.” You tease. 

He scoffs with a playful grin on his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself. You still cackle like a damn hyena.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “At least I don’t laugh at every single of Jin’s lame ass jokes.”

He gasps, jaw slack open due to your all too accurate truthbomb, “I did not ask to be attacked in my own residence.”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it then.”

He snorts. “Holy shit, do you remember when I banged my head on the corner of his coffee table.” 

“How could I forget? I had the picture of the bump on your head as my lockscreen for like a month.” You reminisce, resisting the urge to pull up the picture from your phone.

“Yeah, and that same month I bought and rotated between the same 10 hats.”

“Hey! It genuinely didn’t look as bad as you thought.”

He whips his head towards you, giving you a piercing glare that made you want to redact your statement immediately. 

He grins from ear to ear, the little shit, amused at the reaction he was able to garner from you. 

“Aha!” He suddenly guffaws, shooting out of the floor and prancing towards his fridge. He then takes out three bottles of lychee-flavored soju and makes his way back towards the table. 

Jimin being the borderline alcoholic he is, it doesn’t come as a surprise to you. Not even after he takes another trip back to the fridge to grab yet another three bottles of soju, mango-flavored to be exact. He has probably one of the stupidest grins etched onto his face as he held onto the bottles—meanwhile you were more concerned about the possibility of having to clean up a bunch of broken glass and wasted soju. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

“And do you plan on drinking all of this by yourself?” you say, gesturing towards the bottles.

“I know my liver is strong, but I don’t buy this shit just to enjoy alone,” he retorts. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head as you click your tongue, “Playing this while tipsy just sounds ten times better don’t you think?.”

You shrug—although you had a strong hunch for what he was insinuating, “I mean I guess.”

He starts to pour soju into his shot glass, stopping just before it hits the brim. He slides the glass to you and you take it into your hand, eyeing the sparkling fluid and thinking about the way the contents would do its little all-too-familiar dance on your tongue. 

“Well, you know what they say,” he says, pouring a glass for himself, “drunk words are sober thoughts,” he finishes while dragging out the last word—downing the first shot in one quick swig. You follow his lead soon thereafter, refusing to let your mind linger on what he had just said and the viable likelihood of you spewing out the words that could just make or break your longstanding friendship and lead to a lifetime of regret. 

Obviously, everything’s going fine and dandy for you.

-

The next 20 minutes consisted of a plethora of superficial questions that would vary from:

“What's your favorite song lyric you can think of off the top of your head?”

Your head shoots up as if the lightbulb in your head just flashed on. “Easy. Shawty’s like a melody in my head that i cant keep out got me singing like-“

He lunges over to clap a hand over your mouth before you could sing the next line. “Na na na na no Y/N. Please stop.”

Or something along the lines of:

“What character do you think I'd play in a movie?” He asks with a smug smile. 

“You’d be the second male lead that everyone secretly wants to end up with the main character because you act all sweet and kind and and genuinely cares about her but instead she chooses the other guy because something about him draws her in and it was her ‘gut instinct’ or some shit like that.”

“So I would get second male lead syndrome?” He reiterates. 

“Yes.” 

He sets his shot glass back down with a glower, clearly taken aback. “That is the biggest insult I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”

You also couldn’t forget about:

“Oh, this one says to create a secret handshake.”

“No.” You deadpan.

“And why not?”

“Your pinky‘s the size of a vienna sausa—“ 

He smacks you square in the cheek with a pillow before you could finish your sentence. You don’t even fight back because your mind was so slow to process what he had just done. The fact that you only slept for 5 hours last night didn’t help whatsoever. Your evident lack of energy causes him to jab his finger into your side, causing a loud shriek—your fight or flight response starts kicking in as you grab the back of his neck and slam his face against the fabric of the couch cushion. 

-

Soju was never able to make the two of you full on drunk—buzzed of course, but not enough for complete incoherency. And so you both down a bottle each before finishing the first round. 

“I’m surprised we didn’t get any wild cards that round,” he says while resting his head on the couch.

You purse your lips, “You spoke too soon.” 

His eyes flash open as he cranes his neck in an attempt to see the card. “Wait actually?”

You can feel your insides churn as you read the words in front of you, and you were sure that it wasn’t the alcohol talking. “Write down the three most important things to you in a relationship for 30 seconds and then compare.”

Jimin reaches over to grab two pieces of paper and pencils while unlocking his phone to find the timer app, “Okay, I’ll put a timer on for 30 seconds starting… now.”

And so the internal monologue in your head begins. 

Three most important things… only three? That’s not anywhere near enough to suffice. Wait, what would the first one even be… oh yeah, trust. Trust is very much important yes, yes, yes. What else? Um, communication? Yes of course, that’s essential. Okay, what would the last one be? 

You sneak a glance over at Jimin. His cheek is squished against the palm of his hand, making his cheek fat (an area in which he lacked in) more prominent and the pink, plush flesh of his lips appear even bigger than they already were. 

The ceiling light emitted a faint, ambient glow—the lights and shadows hitting all the slopes and curves of his face. You never understood how someone could be so effortlessly stunning. Even the mess atop his head that’s supposed to be his hair looks purposely tousled—the ebony strands sticking up in multiple directions was framing his temples and contrasted with the honey-like hues of his skin. 

Unlike the glow that radiated from the lights of the worn-down apartment and the radiance of whatever was beyond the glass of the window behind him, everything about him seemed to glow much brighter.

“Hello, earth to Y/N, your 30 seconds is up.” He interrupts pointedly, waving a hand in front of your face.

Blinking rapidly, you shake your head as well as all preceding thoughts that definitely weren’t consuming your mind a few seconds ago, “Sorry w-what?”

He laughs at your disoriented state, “Did you finish writing your three things?”

No, I wrote your name as number 3. “Yeah, I did. You can go first though.”

He nods with a small smile. “Oh, okay then let’s see. First, I put trust. I don’t know, I think everyone puts that to be honest. After that, I put communication. I feel like that’s just a given y’know. Another thing I feel like most people would say.”

You utter a timid “mhm” under your breath albeit zoning out and being unaware of what he was saying. Opportunely, you managed to scribble out his name with the mere seconds that had passed and now you were tapping the lead point of the pencil against the paper, littering the page with a bunch of grey, little dots—incognizant to the fact that he had his eyes focused on you the whole time. 

“I didn’t really know what to put last. Three things isn’t anywhere near enough in my opinion. But at the last second, I wrote down vulnerability,” he continues.

You look up upon hearing the last word. “Oh wow, that’s good. I didn’t even think about that.”

He chuckles unabashedly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Right? I just figured. At first, I thought it would go in the same category as trust but then I thought about it more. Yeah, you can trust someone and someone can trust you, but to what extent does that all go to. Where does it start? And where does it even end? You need to be able to open up to the person I feel like. So I guess trust and vulnerability go hand in hand.”

Impressed with his words, you decide to chime in.  “Wouldn’t communication go along with it too?”

“Hm?”

You place your pencil down. “You would open up to each other by means of communication, becoming more vulnerable, and then overall gaining more trust in the end.”

His brows raise at your sudden revelation, “Wait, you’re so right, did you just wax poetic and full cycle all that?.”

You smile, “I mean I guess,” you respond humbly, “ it does make sense though, does it not?”

He hums in agreement while downing another shot, “It applies to us, right?”

You force out a chuckle, but it comes out a lot more faux-sounding than you would’ve liked. “Haha, yeah I guess it does, doesn’t it.” Once again, starting to dive deeper into the abyss of pitiful hope and unrequitedness. 

“Describe your perfect day.” He suddenly interjects.

You quirk a brow. “Didn’t I just go?”

“It’s okay, I’ll go for this one too.”

“Alright,” you say, foot tapping on the wooden floor as you look past him and out into the glass window of his living room, “well, I wouldn’t have school of course. And I think it would all depend on how I feel that day. If I was feeling particularly lazy, the day would probably consist of me binge-watching shows in bed while eating a shitton of carbs. And the other case would probably be galavanting around the city or going to an amusement park with friends.”

Jimin listens intently and smiles as you speak, causing you to avoid his stare before pigment threatened to rush to your cheeks, “Both of those scenarios sound really nice. I better be included too.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to hide the grin creeping up your cheeks, “We’ll see.”

He groans, standing up from his spot on the floor and falling onto his couch instead, “My asscheeks hurt.”

Your face contorts into a look of disgust, “And you want me to do what with that information?”

Scoffing lightly, he leans back into the cushions and tilts his head back, “It was a declaration, not a cry for help.”

“Yeah, and it’s the bony ass for me.”

His head perks up. “It’s having a flatter ass than their guy best friend for me.”

Gulping down the sad but unequivocal truth, “It’s kissing up to every teacher’s ass for me.”

His eyes narrow in pure chagrin, “It’s the crying on your teacher’s doorstep for them to round your grade for me.”

“It’s splitting your pants on orientation day for me.”

“Fuck you, people would pay to see this ass! It’s getting a concussion from falling down the main hall stairs for me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I told you that they waxed the floors that day!” You snap back.

“Okay, and who said it was a good idea to walk down three flights of stairs while trying to cram for a midterm? Yeah, exactly no one.” He says incisively, giving you an even bigger urge to push him off of the couch, yet you digress. 

“This could go on for hours.” You heave out.

“Is that the sound of someone giving up I’m hearing?”

“Is that the sound of a midget I’m hearing?”

“But I’m taller than you?!” He screeches petulantly, smacking your shoulder. You burst out into a fit of laughter—toppling onto the wooden floor with pure malice. 

Gasping for air, you attempt to stifle your laughter and regain your breath. “Wow, I’m on a roll today! I deserve another shot.”

He shakes his head, his anger quelling at the sight of your giddiness. “Remind me to not let you drink and play this game.”

You turn over from your side to lay on your back. “This will be the first and the last time I play this game with you.” You say almost immediately—the words involuntarily slipping from your mouth before you could stop it. 

He sinks in his spot on the couch, brows knitting at your comment. “Why?”

Sobriety crashes into you like a colossal wave —your irritation dissipates almost immediately. The exaggerated tone your voice begins to register through your head—as well as the fact that you sounded a lot more disapproving than you intended. 

Groaning at your hindered ability to think and process properly, you attempt to clear the air, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. We just... practically know everything about each other I guess. What else is there to know?”

He hums. “You sure about that?”

What? “Wait what?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles awkwardly, “next question.”

The straightforwardness of the next question causes you to quirk a brow, “How are you, really?”

His eyes widen. “Well, that’s a deep one, isn’t it?”

You smile. “A little.” 

He sighs, a small grin lacing his features, “Hm, how am I,” he affirms, adjusting himself in his spot on the couch, “I feel content with where I am right now, I guess. Things can always be better, but at the same time they could be worse too.”

Your number one defense mechanism as of late has been to constantly tease and make jokes at the poor guy—essentially using him as your own mental punching bag. He went along with it out of the assumption that it was all caused by your stress from school while you knew the true origins of your behavior. 

You smile at his optimism, "Hey, that's always good to hear."

He chuckles, shifting his position on the couch so he could face you directly, "I don't know, maybe it's the new sense of freedom. Or all the amazing people I've gotten to meet and the opportunities that are offered here. Or the fact that I'm still going to the same school as my best friend after all this damn time."

"Chim, don't get sappy on me man." You warn him while pouting exaggeratedly— slumping onto the frame of the couch while he takes a strand of your hair in between his fingers. You bask in the moment, your eyes shutting close. 

"Hey, I'm just being honest! For some reason, it all makes up for the impending student debt and draining lectures and professors that have a superiority complex as fat as their paycheck."

"Too bad their paycheck still isn't as fat as your ass."

An audible gasp coming from the only other person in the room causes your eyes to flutter open.

"Aw," he coos, ruffling the hair atop of your head, "that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night. Admit it, you love me."

Out of instinct, you opt to stick your tongue at him instead of replying with a witty comeback. You turn away from him before mumbling to yourself, "More than you'll ever know buddy."

"What was that?"

Shit. "Nothing. Next question!"

-

After twenty questions and a whopping 10 empty soju bottles later, you are quite literally about to implode.

Your eyes stare down at the card in front of you—everything that surrounds it is blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart.

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the universe who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you. Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage.

The imminent headache was starting to spread towards your temples and you practically felt like you could feel your brain shifting inside your head at this point. Although you felt groggy, you were certain that your heart was at a rate that is way faster than it should be. And sitting on your legs has caused them to lose all feeling from the tips of your toes all the way up to your kneecaps. One attempt at standing and you would come crashing to the floor in a heartbeat.

The white card with crimson red writing made sure to leave an impact, making you feel the most ridiculed you’ve felt all night which says a lot—leaving your mind in a complete frenzy although you refused to let it be known.

To say you were mad was an understatement. Out of all the times throughout the entirety of this hour and a half that you were playing this game, he decided that now would be the best time to use his 'dig deeper' card.

There it was.

Admit something.

"Okay fine, I was the one who stuck pink hair dye in your shampoo last semester."

"Y/N, did you really think I didn't know? C’mon I know there’s something else in there.”

You scowl, brows furrowing, “Why would I keep something from you?”

“Why are you getting so defensive over this?”

"What the hell is there for me to admit to you?" You snap back in exasperation, the harsh tone of your voice rendering the two of you speechless. 

He averts his gaze, closing his eyes while inhaling a deep sigh. "Ever since we started college, why have you been treating me so differently?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, stumped. Yet you refuse to wither out of this. 

 "I– are you mad?"

"No. Of course not," he quickly digresses, softening his gaze, "I just noticed after all this time that you've only been acting differently towards me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong Jimin. You never have."

His eyes narrow, giving you yet another indecipherable look, "I'm using my 'dig deeper' card." He deadpans.

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long, to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on you in a variety of different ways.

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in. But then you assured yourself that you haven't reached that level of patheticism yet.

Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now —practically anyone else could detect was the crickets chirping outside his apartment, yet the only sound that was filling your eardrums was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being.

This was it. There was no point in trying to weasel yourself out of this situation. If you tried, your more than futile attempt could very well end up causing more problems than if you were to go with the latter.

So instead of constantly wracking your brain with witty banter and deceitful ways to gaslight your feelings for the man sitting in front of you, you come to terms with the fact that your time had run out. You internally commend yourself for putting up a good fight, as well as internally become accosted at how immature you were at handling the whole situation.

You sharply inhale through your nose, peering at the man sitting in front of you as his eyes meet your own, "Alright."

He offers you a small yet empathetic smile in return, giving you the tiniest sliver of reassurance. His hand pats the couch cushion next to him, motioning for you to sit down next to him.

You push yourself up from the floor, immediately propping a leg onto the couch to avoid your numb limbs to be the cause of your embarrassment.

You inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. "This is going to sound really absurd. Like more than absurd. Possibly borderline hysterical." No Y/N, why would you say that?

He interjects, placing a hand on your forearm. "I'm beginning to think you're becoming borderline hysterical," he lets out a small chuckle, "slow down Y/N. One thought at a time."

Your jaw is still slack open due to your previous rambling. "I'm sorry, I just—I don't think I've ever felt this anxious… around you at least."

He bites his lip, eyes trailing away from yours as he tries to think of a way to aid you, "Will it help if I turn around?

"Maybe." You reply timidly, smiling to yourself as his back came into view.

“It’ll be pretty funny if we don’t remember this in the morning,” you start off with, “I shouldn’t be saying that either I’m sorry. Stupid alcohol.”

He snickers at your drunken state, it was adorable. “Pretend I’m not here Y/N. Like you’re talking to a wall.” He advises, back still turned. 

You nod although he can’t see you. “Okay. Well, hi Mr. Wall. I’ve been keeping a secret from my best friend for as long as I’ve known him and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve suppressed it all this time in hopes that it would eventually fade away, and it almost did. No really, it actually almost did. But now it’s back again and all the same feelings came, but like freaking twofold. No, tenfold. No, like a hundred fucking fold.”

Jimin tries excruciatingly hard to stifle his laughter, cupping a hand to his mouth so he wouldn’t move and distract you.

“I’m literally in love with my freaking best friend when I know he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever. If he did, we wouldn’t be where we are right now because I am so shitty at hiding my feelings that I am more than certain that I’ve let the truth slip a couple of times.” You say all in one breath.

He slowly detaches his hand from his mouth, eyebrows raising in disbelief in the words you had just said. His body urges him to turn around. Yet you continue to think out loud. So he digresses. 

“Towards the end of high school, I think my feelings started to become more dormant because I had become more concerned over finishing high school and transitioning into college. I was content and I convinced myself that my feelings were fleeting for once.” You begin with, allowing whatever thoughts that you consumed your mind to spill all out for Mr. Wall to hear. 

You sigh, taking a pillow from his couch and squeezing onto it for dear life. “That was until we ended up getting into our top picks and going to the same school. I couldn’t believe it. My stupid head tried to convince me that life had always just paired the two of us up together for some reason. And that maybe, just maybe I had a chance. But whatever I guess. I don’t know.”

A notification causes your eyes to trail to your phone. Really, Professor La, this is not a good time to tell me to finish my research paper. You swipe at the notification, revealing your lock screen—a photo of you and Jimin at an amusement park back at your hometown, sporting matching university hoodies with bright smiles on your faces that were captured mid-laughter.

Setting your phone down, you lean into the couch—letting your head fall into the cushions as your eyelids slowly start to droop shut. “What also didn’t help is how college life just seems to suit him perfectly. He just always looks so happy now. Like yeah, he’s always been a social butterfly. Yet in addition to that he has top notch grades. He charms professors. For fuck’s sake the Dean treats him like a son. His passion, his laughter, his love, his happiness. It’s always been so infectious. But college just made the effect he has on people grow even stronger. I-,” you stammer, pausing breathlessly, “it just looks like he truly belongs here. Like college was just made for him.”

He sits there in a complete stupor—still trying to process all the words that he had just heard. His body is itching to turn around, take you into his arms, whisper soft nothings into your ear. Anythings. Everything. He never wanted you to feel anxious about his feelings for you ever again.  

“Mr. Wall, that was a lot, I’m sorry. But I’m really… really tired.” You utter quietly, a long yawn escaping your lips. You fall asleep. 

Ten seconds pass until Jimin sneaks a glance over his shoulder, scanning your body as he notices your shut eyes and timid grip on his pillow. 

“Y/N?”

You’re unresponsive. 

He grins at the sight. Getting up from his seat, he makes his way toward you—slowly prying the pillow from your grasp as you carefully slides his hands under your body and picks you up from the couch. 

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder as he carries you to his bedroom. You are very much still asleep, yet you always had the habit of needing something to hold onto while you were unconscious. 

Kicking the sheets aside, he makes room for you to lie down as he gently places you onto his bed. He quickly scurries to the other side, slipping into the covers himself as he lays down beside you. 

The sudden contact causes you to shift in your sleep—suddenly wrapping an arm around his torso. He lays there, completely stunned at your actions and begins to heavily debate whether he should give into his desires or not. 

The internal conflict lasts about two seconds before he turns to his side—placing his free hand on the small of your back and pulling you into his chest, leaving a small pocket of space in between your two bodies. 

Unknowingly, you close the gap almost immediately—nestling your head into the crook of his neck as your arm that was lazily slung over his torso starts to tighten its hold around his body. 

His arm slings over your unconscious form, his hands making his way to your back as he basks in the foreign feeling, being this close in proximity to you. It was different. Yet it almost felt like it was where he belonged. And he was scared because he didn’t want it to end. 

While gently placing his chin on the top of your head, he begins to stroke your hair as fatigue starts to wash over him as well. “Things will make sense soon Y/N, I swear.”

He retracts, craning his neck in an attempt to see your sleeping form. His attempt proves to be futile when an indecipherable groan leaves your lips—brows knitting slightly and lips curling downward from the sudden lack of warmth. 

His soft laughter fills the room as he obliges—carefully pressing a small kiss to your forehead before reverting back to his original position. 

“For now, just know that I love you too.”

-

The intolerable throbbing sensation in your temples caused you to stir in your sleep.

The only events you could recall from last night was being at Jimin’s apartment, playing that stupid card game, and downing the most soju you’ve ever had in one sitting.

It only occurs to you that you’re wrapped in someone’s arms when you open your eyes and the only thing in your periphery is a firm chest, steadily heaving each time they take a breath.

Your legs were messily entangled with theirs—arms slung around each other’s torsos as you felt a strange yet dense weight on the top of your head.

Carefully, you try to pry yourself from their grasp albeit your haphazard state of mind. You pull back ever so slightly, making sure not to wake them up in the process, discovering that the excess weight was actually their chin that had been resting on top of your head. Their fingers were still twined in your hair as you pulled back, making you freeze in your spot. Curious, you tilt your head, peering upwards and catching a glimpse of their face.

The boy is undoubtedly still asleep. Eyes shut and ample lips slightly parted. Your timid movement, to your luck, which hadn’t phased him in the slightest, as he was unperceptive and nearly immobile at this point. 

If it weren't for your abhorrent headache and the even more abhorrent symptoms that had rooted from your hangover, it would be an understatement to say that you would be freaking out right about now.  In reality,

You'd be in a complete state of manic.

Because of the fact that your body was paying for the despicable amount of alcohol you had decided to consume the night before, an influx of any intense emotion would cause your body to exacerbate itself even more. And the last thing you needed was to puke all over the poor guy after sleeping together for the first time.

While you were physically experiencing withdrawals, your mind felt slightly inebriated nonetheless. You weren't quite sure if it was from last night's affluence of liquor or the way everything's starting to come back to you. And the longer your eyes linger on the boy's face, the clearer everything starts to become. From the foolish banter to your childish outbursts leading up to your intoxicated yet conscientious confession.

You left your heart all out for him to witness last night, and now the only thing you could do is wait for a response.

Taking a deep sigh, you retreat back to his body—deciding not to ponder any longer on the matter and wait until you had felt physically capable of doing so. 

-

Steaming hot streams of water splash against his back. He stands under the shower head while massaging soap into his hair, replaying the events that had happened last night on loop. 

The words that left your mouth were engraved into his mind as they involuntarily kept replaying over and over again—particularly your inebriated confession, which kept garnering the same reaction of both hope and frustration within him. 

The solution should be simple. In reality it is, yet he still felt so internally scattered. 

“—he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever...”

That was the singular line that he just couldn’t wrap his head around. There was never a moment where he would hesitate to drop everything he was doing to be there for you and make sure you were okay. 

Yes, he knew that you two were best friends and that it was natural. But what best friend drives across town at 2am because you had the stomach flu and your parents were out of town. Keep in mind it was his mom’s birthday that day. 

What best friend ditches their prom date when yours had stood you up. Or coax the drama teacher into giving you the lead in the school play because he saw the ways your eyes glimmered when you saw the words ‘High School Musical’. And damn, weren’t you justthe greatest Gabriella he’s ever seen.

Little did you know that in reality, he always wanted you to be the Gabriella to his Troy, and not Chad. Yet you seemed to have believed the latter all along. 

But in the end, what the hell kind of best friend remains oblivious to the fact that for years, past exes have consistently broken up with him for the same reason.

“Your heart belongs to someone else.”

Or alternatively,

“I’m not the right person for you.”

Straight A’s don’t mean shit when no teacher has ever taught him how to realize that he was irrevocably in love with his best friend, and that she had always, almost candidly, felt the same way.

He shuts his eyes tightly, hands aggressively running through his soaked hair as he comes to a conclusion. 

Being strangers could never be an option. Being friends, or moreso, best friends was fine. But that’s it. It was just fine. It was normalcy. It has been for years.

And that just wasn’t going to cut it for him anymore.

-

Your arm traces along the fabric of the bedsheets, alerting you that there was a void of space and lack of warmth from the other side of the bed. Your eyes spring open to see that there was no one laying beside you. 

A long yawn escapes your lips as you stretch your limbs, body sprawling all over the bed before selfishly tugging the sheets all to yourself. 

Soft hissing from which you assume was coming from his shower was confirmed to be true when your eyes spot the closed bathroom door and the small beam of light that was emitting from it. 

A small, folded piece of paper that was taking up the space of where his head was resting was where your eyes shift to next. 

y/n <3

You knit your brows together, knowing that it was most likely put there strategically rather than a piece of trash that had slipped out of his pocket.

It was addressed to you after all and so you grab it while making a futile attempt to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Your throbbing headache and churning insides had significantly died down. Regardless of your recovery time you internally make a promise to yourself to never get this wasted ever again. The chances of you sticking to it?  Highly debatable considering the current situation you’re in. 

Blinking rapidly, you finally are able to decipher whatever is written onto the paper. And it says:

hi y/n, i can already tell by the looks that you’re giving me that you already despise this game and im sorry. all i wanna say is that by the time you read this, i hope that we remain close as ever even though what i plan on saying tonight could obliterate all of that. i wanted to play this game bc i know we’re both hiding stuff from each other and it’s about time we get it out. at least for me. whatever happens, i love you. always will. 

- chim :)

EDIT: for fuck’s sake y/n i’m FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU TOO I WAS SUPPOSED TO CONFESS TO U FIRST LOSER NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND T-T

-

“Finally awake?” You hear a familiar voice call out. He walks out of the bathroom, fully clothed (to your dismay) while drying his hair with a towel, eyes immediately softening as they connect with yours. 

You swallow down your nerves, “Yeah, I’ve been.”

He walks over to the edge of the bed, eyes shifting to the piece of paper in your hand before reverting his focus back to your face, “What are you reading there?” 

“I don’t know,” you huff, feigning ignorance, “why don’t you tell me.”

A soft chortle leaves his lips as he throws the towel to the side, smiling as wide as ever as he jumps onto the vacant spot on his bed right next to you.

Propping himself up, he sits against the headboard, letting out a content sigh before looking down at you once more. “Come here.” He says, reaching his arms out in hopes that you’d fill the idle gap.

And you do, shaking the sheets off of your body as you place yourself in his arms, freshly revelling in the comfort. You wrap your arms snugly around his waist, letting your head rest on his chest while he clutches onto you tightly. 

“I’m sorry for pushing the subject so hard onto you last night.” He starts off with, “I guess I just never fathomed the fact that you could return the feeling, and I was too stubborn to even admit it to you in the first place.” He expresses while stroking your back,  “I didn’t mean to confront you so harshly, it’s unlike me, and I’m really sorry about it Y/N.”

“Do you think I’m mad about that Jimin?” You inquire, just barely above a whisper.

He pulls back slightly, peering down at you, “Are you?”

“Of course not. I should be the one apologizing anyways for being even more stubborn and resorting to such childish ways.” You disclose whilst mentally beating yourself up.

“Hey, there’s no use in beating ourselves up over it. Look where we are now.” 

“Where exactly are we Jimin?” You inquire timidly, head still resting on his chest. 

His fingers brush over the base of your chin, gently tilting your head up until your eyes found his. 

“Y/N, it’s honestly hard for me to formulate the words but all I know is that I think I’m in love with you. And I think I have been for a long time, no scratch that, I have been for a long time,” he says all in one breath, making you smile at how high-strung he was acting. 

The grin remains plastered onto your face, “I’m not drunk still right because did I just hear you say that you’ve been in love with me?”

“Y/N…” he whines, jutting out his bottom lip as he drags out the last syllable of your name.

You can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Go on please.” 

He bites his lip, “I honestly had a whole speech prepared in the shower but I forgot all of it.”

“It’s alright, I barely remember half the stuff I spewed out last night,” you chortle.

He chuckles, “Well, if you were wondering, you’re cute as fuck when you’re piss drunk.”

The compliment makes your breath hitch in your throat—your heart starting to pick up speed dangerously quick.

A few seconds pass, allowing you to slightly gain back some of your composure, “Why did you um– I mean– when do you think you fell in love with me?” You stutter. 

“I was actually trying to figure that out too,” he starts, “in the shower. Well, this is going to sound dumb,” he admits, sharply exhaling out of his nose, “But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time.”

“I think so… but what about it?”

He nods. “I still remember that night so vividly for some reason,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “There were haunted houses all over the park. And they were all different themes. And I think the first one we went into together was—”

“The clown one.” You deadpan. 

“Yeah!” He beams, laughing at the way you shudder after your words, “Anyways, you were walking behind me with your hands on my shoulders, but you had a razor grip and I thought my arms were going to fall off, so I made you walk next to me instead. We had our arms interlocked and you were gripping onto me so closely and you had your head buried in my shoulder the whole time.” He explains, the smile never ceasing to leave his lips.

You don’t take his eyes off of him—smiling sweetly as he explains the retrospective moment that you never knew had held so much significance to him.

“All of a sudden, you grabbed my hand, and honestly, I think that was the scariest part of the whole experience,” he admits, chuckling softly. 

“But then I intertwined fingers with you. And I liked it. Thinking about it now, I probably loved it. It felt almost borderline euphoric. Like as if I was riding a high, and when we detached hands, it felt like there was just something missing. And I guess I never really put the pieces together because it just became a normal thing after that. And when our skinship kept evolving from there, I just kept dismissing it over and over again. Like as if that feeling was a normal thing to happen between friends, because I genuinely thought it was. Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.” He finishes, giving you a close-mouthed smile while he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

Astounded was an understatement. You couldn’t believe that you both had been suppressing these feelings for so long. Yet somehow, this whole confession didn’t seem out of place or time, it was as if everything that had happened beforehand had led up to this very moment. 

“Wow, Jimin I– I don’t know what to say.” You reply.

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I’m sorry for making you wait for so long, after all.”

You interject, “Please don’t say sorry, I think we were definitely both in the wrong here.”

He smiles, except this time his eyes crinkle up all the way, “Alright, but can you at least let me make it up to you?”

“I’m listening.” You jokingly reply.

“Let’s go on a date,” he declares brazenly, “but tonight, after we’ve recovered from our hangovers and what not.”

The corners of your lips upturn so high that your cheekbones sting, “Jimin, I’d love to–”

“Ah, wait! I’m not done.” He cuts you off, head inching forward, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath tickle your ear and the heat rushing up to your cheeks. 

“And at the very end of the night, I’ll make certain that you won’t be able to walk normally by tomorrow.” He whispers into your ear— voice low and full of lust.

Shivers run through your body as it feels like all the wind had just gotten knocked out of you. Yeah, this was definitely worth the wait.

-

-

-

MASTERLIST ; SEQUEL

[rae-is-typing]

Sick Day

Notes: This was requested by a lovely anon, and it was inspired by my past few days. Enjoy :)

Original request from anon: Can you write an Avenger imagine, where the reader is the youngest of the cast and gets sick/has an accident on set?

Description: You get sick. That’s it. That’s the fic.

Characters: reader, original female and male characters (manager named Masha, assistant named Alis, an EMT named Esme, trainer named Nick), RDJ, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, Scarlett Johanson, Elizabeth Olson, the Russos

Warnings: Swearing sickness, vomiting, mention of pepto bismol (that shit’s NASTY), swearing, homework

Word count: 2.9k

You don’t get sick.

You don’t have time to get sick, so you don’t. Between filming, training, and school, sickness is absolutely not an option Simple as that, right?

Well, your body didn’t get the memo.

Your body is racked with chills, but you’re sweating profusely. You chalk it up yo the intense scene you’re filming; your character and Robert’s character just got into a massive screaming match over your character’s secret identity being revealed. But in the middle of the second take, your words dissolve into coughs.

"No, Tony! It's not okay!" You shout, whipping around to face a very pissed looking RDJ. "I-" A cough disrupts your words. "I don't-" This time you break down into a fit of uncontrollable coughing, even going as far as doubling over.

"Cut!" Robert rushes over to you, placing a hand on your back. He makes you stand up fully. He speaks up when you finally stop coughing. “You alright, kid?" You nod your head, rubbing at your throat.

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm sorry, I have no idea where that came from." A smile tugs at his lips. "Don't apologize, Y/N. It happens."

Alis, an assistant, comes over with a bottle of cold water, placing it on your hands with a curt not. You thank her and open the water, taking a few slow sips as the Russos offer feedback on what you managed to get through.

"That was are best take until the coughing. Whatever you did before, do that again." You try not to beat yourself up over the coughing; it's show business, it happens.

Getting back into position, you two manage to finish the scene with minimal interruptions. During your yelling match, your head begins to pound. It's not the light pounding you get when you didn't get enough sleep or you're dehydrated, it's the kind where you're sure that your old band director is leading the entire drum line on your brain tissue, or something is punching your skull with little pistons.

The second "Cut!" rings out through the set. You deflate, rolling your shoulders and rubbing your head. You trudge over to a small bench near the set and plop down, stretching your now aching limbs in the process.

Being the (mother hen) good mentor and costar he is, Robert realizes something is wrong very quickly. You're usually very bubbly after scenes end, the adrenaline still coursing through you. He can only think of one time he saw you like this, and that was right after you took the SATs. He calls over Alis again, asking her to get some green hibiscus tea with honey and acetaminophen. Alis is back within five minutes. He walks over to you and sits by you.

"Here, take these." You frown at the to-go cup and the small container in his hands, but ]take them anyways.

"What is it?"

"Tea, and tylenol. They'll help with your headache and cough." He says, matter-of-factly.

"Oh, thanks, Robert."

"Course, gotta help my favorite kid." He says, pushing himself off of the bench. "Now, I don't know about you, but I am starving. What do you say we get a bite with the others?" He extends a hand for you to take

"Sure," You say without thinking. Any time with the cast is great, even if you're extra tired and achy. You let him pull you up. The cast orders sandwiches from a little shop in downtown Atlanta, very close to the set.

You're gathered in a larger, mostly empty save for a few couches and chairs part of the set where you often meet. Everyone is talking. They're either going over that days work and characterization, recent events in the news, and their weekend plans. Your sandwich is a little off. It smells fine, it's exactly what you ordered, but it tastes... off. Something in it is making your stomach churn and grumble. You place the sandwich back in the wrapping it came in, fold it up, and throw it away.

That's enough for tonight, You decide. "I have school stuff that I need to get done." You say.

"Aw, okay. See you tomorrow!"

"Fuck school,"

"Language!"

"Shut the hell up, man."

You smile as you walk to your trailer. You do have school, you always have school, and it sucks major ass. The suckiest thing you have to complete is a seven page, MLA format, argumentative research paper about birth control in the developing world. And, oh my god, you would rather be hung upside down by your toe hair than write that fucking paper.

But you write it anyway.

Why? Because it's due in two days and you haven't started it yet. So you buckle down, ignoring the headache you have and your churning stomach, and do the damn thing.

You get three pages in before you decide that being tired isn't worth this paper. Getting up at 5:30 in the morning each day to train for two hours is definitely not your favorite part of your job, but it is some of the only alone time you’re able to get, so you'll take it. You stand up from your desk and immediately regret moving. Dizziness overcomes you. You flop back onto your office chair and press a hand to your forehead.

Taking a few deep breaths, you get back under control and stand up much slower. This time, you're able to walk to your small bedroom area with an attached bathroom. You wash your face, being extra careful as to not make yourself pass out from dizziness. You do the same when brushing your teeth.

During the night, you get all of two and a half hours of sleep. You toss and turn all night, unable to ignore the churning in your stomach for long enough. And the fact that you're hot one second and then freezing the next. it is impossible for you to sleep for more than a half hour at a time. But you eventually do.

Assuming that's the end of it, you sleep deeply until cramping in your stomach forces you out of bed. you make yourself sit up. A wave a nausea comes over you like a tidal wave. You hobble to the bathroom and lean over the toilet just in time.

Bile and your half-eaten sandwich forces its way from your stomach, up your throat, and into the toilet. It's gross. It smells vile, its chunky and the strain makes tears come to your eyes. You dry heave and cough until you're sure everything is out. Feebly, you flush the toilet and leaned back against the wall across from it, deep breathing until you stop crying.

Unaware of the time, you stay there until you feel strong enough to get up and brush your teeth. You hobble back to your bed, and lay back down. This time, falling asleep again.

A knocking on your door pulls you out of your slumber.

"Y/N? You need to get up." The smooth voice of your manager, Masha, floats through your door.

You jolt awake, now remembering that you have to train. "Shit, what time is it?"

"Six AM. I'm opening the door," Masha says, while opening the door. You wince as the light seeps in, covering your eyes.

"Whoa, what happened to you?" She asks. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, yeah yeah yeah, I'm good. Shit Nick is waiting. I'll get ready, gimme like two seconds," You ramble, stumbling out of bed.

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, hold on." Masha says, putting both hands on your shoulders, steadying you. Huh, you didn't realize you were wavering.

"You're burning up, Y/N." She observes, pressing the back of her hand on your forehead. "I think you're sick. Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing."

"Have you thrown up or anything? Headaches? Lie to me, and it won’t be pretty."

“I threw up,” You croak, flopping back on the bed.  

"Alright, I'm going to get Esme, stay here, lay down." Masha speaks quickly, pulling out her phone.

Esme is the lead EMT on set. She was an RN for years before transferring to emergency medical services. The stunt doubles and the actors take major precautions before stunting. However, some things can't be avoided, hence the EMTs.

Esme comes into your room in no time, followed closely by a worried Masha.

"Alright, Y/N. What's wrong?"

"I'm a little sick right now."

"Alright. Symptoms?"

"Chills, headaches, I uh threw up a few hours ago..." You hate admitting it. That means you won't be able to do much today. It's apart of your contract. If you get sick, you have to take at least two days off because you're a huge liability for Marvel. Being a minor kinda sucks.

She nods. "Alright hon, follow my directions." Esme checks you out thoroughly. After telling her about your weird sandwich, she nods knowingly.

"It looks like a fever, and that sandwich made you throw up. Get some pepto bismol and tylenol. Make sure to drink a lot of water and other clear liquids. Eat the BRAT diet, and you'll be good to go in a few days. I suggest making a doctor's appointment today, though. I can’t diagnose you."

"Alright, thanks Esme." Masha says as Esme leaves. She turns to you, sighing. "I'm sorry, N/N. I'll get what you need from a store, let the Russos know, and make the appointment. I think you should go back to sleep if you can."

"Thanks, Mash. You're the best."

She smiles gently before leaving. You turn on your side and pull the blanket over your head, eventually dozing off.

The veil of sleep is slowly lifted as you blink your eyes open. Thanks to some great blackout curtains you have, no light seeps into the trailer. This time, you don't feel nauseous. However, an inkling of dizziness is still there. You stay in your position for a few minutes until you reach for your phone. A ton of notifications appear on your lockscreen.

3 missed calls from Masha the Manager

Messages from Masha the Manager

Y/N, Nick is waiting. Where are you? Sent: 5:30

Get up now, Y/N. Sent: 5:30

Y/N. You're scaring me. You're never late. Sent: 5:43

Everything you need is on the counter. Read the note first though. Sent: 7:00

Message from evans

Hey Y/N. Heard you weren't feeling well. Lemme know if I can help, okay? Sent: 7:15 AM

Message from Romanian Bitch™

Masha told us you're sick. Feel better we need you! Sent: 7:19 AM

Message from Stanky Stark

Get better soon okay? Sent 7:19

Messages to No Boys Allowed!!!

ScarJo: get well soon babe. let us know if you need anything 7:20

Scarlet Bitch: aw, feel better N/N Sent: 7:21

It warms your heart knowing that they care so much about you. You send a simple thank you to each one of them and close your eyes again.It only takes a few seconds for you to remember all the homework you have to do. Your eyes snap open and you groan.

You do not want to do homework. But you have two whole days with no training and no work, so why wouldn't you? That thought is all you need to get out of bed. You don't bother changing. You migrate to the small living area, and go to the counter where Masha had set all the stuff. You found the note quickly, and read Masha's half print, half cursive writing.

Y/N,

Take two doses of pepto and two things of tylenol, but read the instructions!!! Eat some applesauce or toast, and call me if you get any worse.

-Masha

You unpack the canvas bag and quickly take your medicine. After that, you take all the food with you to the couch. You plant yourself on the soft sofa and dive into your work.

Being interrupted every few minutes with coughing is not the ideal space for productivity, especially because your throat is becoming increasingly raw. You put your phone in a drawer in your desk so you aren't distracted. Like most teens, you have a bad habit of prioritizing your phone.

A knock on the trailer door pulls you out of your focus. "Y/N, it's us!"

"Come in!" You say, still typing. You cringe at how sore you sound. Scarlett and Lizzie come in, still in costume.

"We can't stay for long," Scarlett starts, looking very apologetic. "We have a five minute break and we wanted to check on you."

You smile, setting your computer to the side. "Thanks guys. I appreciate it."

"How are you feeling?" Lizzie asks.

You shrug. "I'm okay, I guess."

"What were you doing?" Scarlett asks, spotting the half finished essay on your laptop. "You're supposed to be resting."

You sigh. "Yeah, but I should just get it done..."

The three of you talk about how shooting is going, and the production of the film in general. It's going smoothly. Nothing is going wrong. Soon, though, they have to leave. You're left to your own devices for another few hours.

Now that you’re revising the paper, your eyes ache, your left hand is cramping up, and you're positive you gave yourself carpal tunnel.

Another knock on the door reverberates through the trailer.

"Open up, kiddo!"

"It's unlocked." You snap back, not unkindly. Anthony and Sebastian walk in. You stop typing for a second to smile at them. "Hey,"  

"Hey, N/N." Sebastian smiles back. "We brought you soup."

Your face twists up. "Is it from the sandwich shop?"

"Nah, Masha told us that made you sick. This is from the high-end shop across the street," Anthony says, handing you a warm styrofoam bowl and a spoon. he also takes your laptop. "What are you writing an essay for? You’re sick! And a kid! Kids don’t do school when they’re sick.”

“What do you know about kids?” You smile, leaning forward to reach for your laptop.

"Nuh uh, no no no. You're going to relax while we're here, okay? And for your information, I have three children."

You cock an eyebrow. "Uh huuuuhhhh," you draw out.

He rolls his eyes, saves your essay, and turns on the television that you rarely use. "Alright, N/N. Netflix or Hulu?"

"My essay."

"Hey siri, does netflix or hulu have a show called 'My essay'?" You shove his shoulder lightly with a scowl. Sebastian is having a grand time laughing at you while eating his own soup.

"Alright, alright. We'll watch The Office, it's one of your favorites." Anthony chuckles.

You huff, leaning back on the couch and pulling off the cover to your soup. "Fine."

"Michael Scott is such a bad boss." Sebastian remarks.

"How dare you!" You gasp, your voice cracking severely.

"I can't take you seriously when you sound like a twelve year old boy." He retorts.

"You're being mean,"

"Mmm sorry sweetheart," He chuckles.

The three of you watch a couple episodes before they have to leave. You thank them for their time and the soup profusely. They wave you off, saying something along the lines of 'No problem, kiddo'.

After they leave, you snatch up your laptop and make the final revisions on your essay. There, finished in two days, and all it took was eating a bad sandwich. You should totally do that more often. (No you shouldn't. Never doing that again.)

You opt for more Michael Scott and some ginger ale mixed with Gatorade. You fall asleep on the couch huddled under a fleece blanket you retrieved from your room area two more episodes in, and wake up to gentle knocking and someone calling your name.

"Y/N? You there?"

"Yeah." You call, voice thick with sleep.

"Can we come in?"

"Sure?" You say, burrowing under the blanket. The door opens revealing Chris Evans and Robert, both looking tired after a long day of filming.

"Did we wake you up?" Chris asks.

"Yeah, it's fine though," You yawn, sitting up slowly.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that kiddo,"

You shrug. "What's up?"

Robert gives you a dad smile. "We just wanted to come see how you're doing. Feeling any better?"

"Yeah, I guess. Don't feel pukey anymore."

"That's good. Anthony said you were doing homework all day?" Chris asks, tone not too far from accusatory.

"I had an essay to do." You defend.

Robert clicks his tongue. "You're supposed to be resting, Y/N, not doing homework."

You pout. "I still had to get it done..."

"Alright, no school stuff tomorrow, okay?" Robert orders. "Rest only."

"Rest only." You repeat.

"Alright, now go to bed. You look exhausted."

"Okay. Thanks for checking on me," You stand up slowly, paying close attention to how you feel. You give each of them a hug before going to your room.

You check your phone, again giving in to those bad habits.

Message from Masha the Manager

Doc appointment at 1 pm tomorrow. He's gonna make a house call.

Sent 7:28 PM

You shoot back a quick 'K' before turning it off and laying down for the night.

[charlies-crashcourses]

Charlie’s College Crash Course #1: How to write a 10-page paper in 1 day

Background info first: I’m in the last year of my English undergrad degree and I’ve had to write at least 3 dozen 10+ page papers in that time. That being said, I’ve never once started writing a paper more than a few days in advance, and 9 times out of 10 I go for one day only. Honestly, this should be considered my trademark at this point because after all my high school AP courses and my English degree, it’s been going on 7 years of 1 day papers.

and so, dear friends, I would like to pass on this skill to you all. I should mention, none of this will work if you’re not already pretty solid on paper writing, i.e. if you only ever get C’s on your papers now this isn’t magically going to get you up to an A with one day. This is just to streamline the process, allowing for more time for other things or, more commonly, allowing you to not freak the fuck out when you realize the deadline is tonight at midnight and you’ve procrastinated all month on the final paper for your class.

(I should also mention that I’m currently procrastinating a 2.5k word paper due tomorrow night that I’ve only read one of two books for, so. There’s that.)

Anyway, without further ado, here we fucking go:

Step 1: Prep for the Day

this is going to be a marathon, not a sprint, so make sure you prep the day accordingly. Ideally, you’d wake up before noon, make sure there’s nothing else planned for the day, and tell your roommates/parents to leave you alone until you officially reemerge at midnight (or, if you’re in college and have a 24 hr library, try going there. Mine has closed off study rooms that I can chill in, but if you’rs doesn’t just find a relatively comfy quiet spot). If you’re at home, pick one spot, clear it off super quick, grab some snacks and energy drinks, make sure you have everything charged and ready to go. I don’t recommend cafes or the like simply because there’s lots of distractions and also those places close before midnight, so you can’t stay there the entire time and therefor waste time moving halfway through.

Also, I would recommend taking a break between all the steps after this one. Don’t let the break take too long, but just long enough to walk the block, or grab another snack, or do some stretches, or watch a ten minute video, something like that. I personally never break at a natural stopping point, because then I’ll never get back to it, but how you break is up to you.

Step 2: Preliminary Research

now normally I do some preliminary research beforehand. Basically looking into the topic, figuring out generally what resources would be best, etc. That can usually be done in five to ten minute bursts throughout the week or so before the due date, whenever the topic comes to mind.

But then again, I’ve also procrastinated that until the very end as well, so. Usually all that takes if you go for the day of is some quick google scholar searches, or if you have access to the MLA database that works as well. Or, if you’re more like me, you could just deep dive on wikipedia and check out what relevant facts pertain to what numbers in the bibliography, then go ahead and cite those wherever possible.

Basically, get a good base knowledge of the big facts. This step should be quick and dirty. For instance, for my paper my sophomore year on Robespierre (14 pages written in a record 6 hours) I combed through his wiki, some websites on the French Revolution, and watched the Crash Course youtbue video on the subject. The rest of the research was done after I did my first outline. 

Step 3: Outline #1

This is just a basic “What the fuck am I talking about” outline. It can be bullet points, numbers, stream of consciousness, i don’t care as long as it works for you. 

For the Robespierre paper, my first outline was something to the effect of: -born poor -school -elected to govt -took over govt -killed people -got killed

and that was it. It’s like, before you build a house you have to clear off the right amount of land, make sure there’s nothing in your way, and give yourself a vague area in which to build. Super simple stuff.

I did get some advice, from somewhere I can’t remember, that a paragraph is basically equal to half a page, and so (excluding one page length for your intro + conclusion) you should have around two paragraphs or ideas per page. So my outline above would need some more points, there, to keep me on track for my page count. I eventually added a whole paragraph about how he was chosen to read for a visiting King Louis at his school and was then ignored which made him hate the monarchy, and another about what happened after he died what with the government in shambles, etc etc. So two bullet points per page should do it.

Step 4: More Research

This is where you get a little more in depth. Look at your bullet points and learn everything you need to about them. 

For my first bullet, I found stuff like: “Robespierre was born in France in 1758 as Maximilien François Marie Isidore de Robespierre (the third of this name), to a lawyer and the daughter of a brewer, he had two siblings, and he could read by age eight. he also loved pigeons and started a lifelong feud with his sister over one that he gave her that she let die."

and then I would move on to the next bullet point, and so on and so forth, filling in the gaps. Make sure to keep track of where your info comes from, as well. It doesn’t have to be a full citation, but just the hyperlink after the fact is going to save you so much time, i promise

Pro Tip: don’t throw out anything as irrelevant just yet. Just gather all the facts, no judging. Trust me on this.

Step 5: Better Outline

this is where you start to have fun with it. I would like to remind you that no one, unless you have some crazy micromanaging professor, sees your outlines. This is for you and you only, so write it in whatever way makes sense to you. It can be colorful and fun and whatever you need it to be.

 I actually took screenshots of my outline for that robespierre paper (hence why i chose that one as an example) so here’s a look at what I do:

so, really, honestly, as shitty as you need this to be, or as many jokes, or whatever works for you my dude. Explain it like you would if it were a story you were telling, not a biographical/argumentative paper. Get informal with it.

Step 6: Write the Damn Thing

Okay to now that you did the research and wrote your fun outlines and all that, all you have to do now is write it! I tend to do this in the same doc as I do my outline, but starting again from the top so I can see what I need to add next right under where I’m typing, then delete it once I’ve covered the material. 

If you did your outline well, this is really just cleaning that up so it’s “school appropriate” and “not an affront to people’s eyes and sensibilities” or whatever. At this point, it should go super quick, maybe 2 hours max to finish up writing what you need to write, here.

Pro Tip: do your citations as you go. Better yet, make your bibliography first so that A its already done and B you know what your in text cites will be from the start so that you don’t have to add them in later. If you kept your hyperlinks next to your research, just open up citationmachine and get those cites, then replace the links in your outline with the actual citations so it’s easier to line them up with in text cites while you go

Step 7: Fudging

oh, you thought we were done after writing the paper? nah fam. Chances are, you didn’t hit the page count you wanted to, you’re probably around 1 full page short, unless you love long sentences. This is where my pro tip from all the way back on step 4 comes in.

First, before you do anything drastic, make sure your formatting is correct. If your prof wants the big long “name, date, class, assignment, etc” in the top left then that adds a lot of length. Fonts will also change your page length, and so will footnotes and citations.

If you did it right and saved all the less relevant details, congratulations! Just sprinkle a few of those in there and you’re magically at your page count. This is the only reason I included the pigeon story in my paper (and this post), because I was about 3/4 of a page short of passably saying I got to 14.

If you didn’t save those inane details, don’t go looking for them now. Trust me, it’s much more pain than it’s worth. Your best bet, then, would be to either A. Add one more point if you can think one up, B. do some more research for relevant details to add in, or C. expand on the details you already have with more examples or effects or whatever applies.

do not, i repeat do NOT, just try and expand the words you use, like changing “to” into “in order to” or whatever those deflate your phrases charts tell you Not to do. They tell you not to for a reason. 1. it sounds stupid adding them in after the fact, and 2. your professor absolutely 100% will know and will mark you down if you do that in excess. Inflated phrase charts like that are well known by professors, and also adding them in after the fact won’t fit in at all with the voice that the rest of your paper was written in, so it’ll stand out like a sore thumb. just don’t do it unless it’s your last possible “i have ten minutes to turn this in” effort.

Step 8: Celebrate!!

And that’s it! If you did it right, this whole process should have taken you around the equivalent of 1 hour per page you had to write or so, so in a regular twelve hour day you’ve got time to take breaks and eat and all that shit. Go turn it in and celebrate your victory!

[getblogingo-blog]

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Well I’m back from break with another masterpost! This one took me a while to write, so I hope at least some people find it useful. As you can tell from the title, it’s a step-by-step guide on how to write literary analysis essay aka an essay that analyzes a literary text. Enjoy!

1. Read the book

I mean this one’s pretty obvious right? If you want to do well on a literature essay, you have to actually read the book/poem that you’ll be analyzing. While you’re reading, you should be taking note of major themes that the author is developing and the different ways in which they appear throughout the book. The following is a list of things you should be keeping an eye out for while you read (but it’s by no means exhaustive).

Things to note (potential essay topics)

historical context, aka how are the author’s background and the events going on in his/her life reflected in the text

the way characters are portrayed and their function in the story

major themes

use of literary devices (allusions, imagery, repetition, etc.)

questions you personally have about the text

writing style 

key scenes/lines

2. Develop your thesis

Now you have to come up with a thesis, or in other words your central argument. This is where your annotations will come in handy. Use them as a guide to come up with a general argument about the text. If you're getting stuck, ask yourself why a particular scene/quote/character/device is important to the text. If you can answer that question you have a thesis statement. To use a personal example, I wrote an essay on the symbolism of oranges in a partiuclary book. My thesis statement was:

While in the beginning of the novel oranges represent the religious norms that Jeanette eventually rejects, as the story progresses the color orange, and later oranges themselves, come to symbolize Jeanette’s desires for other women. The double meaning of the oranges exemplifies Winterson’s message that the Bible and what it says is always open to multiple interpretations.

Notice how specific this thesis is. It tells you exactly what argument I’m trying to make, and how that argument relates to a major theme in the text, or in other words how it contributes to our understanding of the book. Your thesis should be between 1-3 sentences. Any longer than that and it’s probably not specific enough.

Finally, one of the biggest mistakes people make is coming up with a thesis that just states a fact about the book. In other words, if you’re writing about the Sherlock Holmes stories, you can’t say, “Homes uses his powers of observation to solve the crimes.” This is not an acceptable thesis because it is not making an argument about the text, it is just stating a fact. Anyone reading the book would know this was true. Your thesis needs to be a statement that someone could potentially argue against.

3. Find quotes/evidence

Once you’ve come up with a solid thesis, you need to look through your book/poem and find the evidence that you are going to use to support your thesis. This can include things the characters say or do, descriptions, scenes, elements of the work’s structure, or specific quotes. I find that it’s normally easier to do this before making the outline itself, because it gives you an idea of what things you want to include. I recommend using post-it flags to bookmark all of the parts that you want to reference. This process will be much easier if you have already annotated the text, because you’ve probably already taken note of things you can use as evidence for your argument.

4. Outline

Start your outline by writing your thesis at the top. Then, number each paragraph/section and write down a topic sentence next to that number. Underneath the heading for each paragraph, use bullet points to expand on the topic sentence, explain your analysis, and mark down where you are going to put your evidence. You can either include your quotes in full in your outline, or you can simply write down the page numbers you will be referencing. Regardless, make sure you take note of what evidence supports your analysis in your outline, because this will allow you to spot any weak points in your argument. You don’t have to use complete sentences, but the more info you put down the better. Remember, outlines are allowed to be messy, so don’t get stressed about it not looking perfect.

5. Writing the Draft

Before you start writing your paper, make sure you have your both your text and your outline handy as well as a thesaurus/dictionary. Write down your thesis at the top of the page so that you can easily reference it as you’re typing. Typically, I like to start my papers by writing all of the body paragraphs first, and then I’ll go back and write the introduction and the conclusion. I do this because I usually end up straying from my outline and/or adjusting my thesis as I’m writing the body paragraphs. It’s easier to introduce the paper once I already know what I’ve written.

One of the biggest mistakes you can make in a literary essay is summarizing the text instead of analyzing it. Any evidence you present in your paragraphs to support your thesis must be coupled with your own analysis. You have to explain how the evidence you present supports the argument you are trying to make. You shouldn’t be taking quotes out of context either, trust me teachers can tell when you do that.

6. Revise

This step shouldn’t be that much different than revising any other papers you’ve done, but there are a couple of things you should keep in mind. Make sure you’re consistently using present tense to discuss the text that you are analyzing, because although literature may have been written in the past, it still exists today, in the present. Also, make sure you haven’t summarized the text at all.

Be careful when talking about authorial intent. Don’t assume that just because you interpret something a certain way that’s how the author wanted it to be interpreted. This doesn’t mean you can’t talk about your interpretation, it just means you might want to avoid saying things like, “he/she wants to show...” or he/she wrote x in this way because... Instead, opt for “this shows x” or “or y can be interpreted in x way.”

Also, literature papers are often formatted in MLA, so make sure your essay matches their guidelines. All of my professors would take off points if our papers were not in MLA.

If you want more general revision tips, check here and here.

And that’s the end of this post. I’m thinking of turning this into a series, where I go over how to write different kinds of essays, so if you liked this one keep an eye out for future posts. My ask box is always open if you have a question (about this post or anything else), or if you have some other tips you’d like to share put them in the comments. Happy writing!

[team-free-squiggle]

Why @karaidemon is Very Cute

                                 by Me (@book-of-Charlie)

Pages: 5 in word document.

Font: Times New Roman, 12 pt.

Citation Style: MLA

Word Count: 1,245

Here goes nothing! @karaidemon I am putting it under a read more cause it’s long af. Hope you enjoy! Also, I told you I would write it :p

              In this essay, I will demonstrate exactly why @karaidemon is cute AF. But first, an explanation.

              For those of you who don’t understand why I am writing this essay, hello! I will explain. No, there is too much, let me sum up (bonus points if you got that reference). So here’s what happened: I saw a post that said “if you’re reading this right now, you’re cute” (Tumblr). And, like everyone here on Hellsite.com, I tagged my friends, people I know, etc…. One of the people I tagged was @karaidemon, who shall henceforth be referred to as Jewels, since that’s her name. She responded by saying “I am not cute, I demand an essay with quotes and sources. Please use MLA format.” Well, Jewels. Challenge accepted.

              We will start off by looking at the definition of the word in question: ‘cute.’ According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, these are the possible definitions of cute:

1a: clever or shrewd often in an underhanded manner

              " … he's a true patriot and statesman … and a most particular cute lawyer."— Thomas Chandler Haliburton

              b: impertinent, smart-alecky

                            Don't get cute with me.

2: attractive or pretty especially in a childish, youthful, or delicate way

              a cute puppy; a cute smile

3: obviously straining for effect

              The movie's too cute to be taken seriously.

Now obviously, 3 doesn’t apply. This leaves us definitions 1 and 2. Most people tend to look at definition number 2, which is accurate. That will be explained later. For now, however, we will start at the very beginning (it’s a very good place to start), with definition number 1.

               Earlier today I posted a post on Tumblr, asking people to like and/or reblog if they thought Jewels is cute. She herself commented “How dare you. I have a reputation” (Tumblr). One has to admit, it’s a little bit smart-alecky. Another example is within her writing; for this essay, I shall specifically use the example of her stories with Annika Archer. Annika Archer, for those who don’t know, is a character that Jewels created to go with @asofterfan’s Sanders Sides Punk AU. This author does highly recommend that AU, by the way. The stories that Jude (@asofterfan) wrote, and the ones that Jewels wrote are both spectacular. The point, however, are in the stories that Jewels wrote: in them, there are some amazingly (yet objectively) adorable moments between Roman and Annika. And speaking from experience (and from what others have told me they felt when writing), it’s very hard to write as you are not. When it’s just you, and a laptop or tablet or phone or even a paper and pencil, the letters on the page are what’s coming from your soul. You can write all different types of characters; but at the end, they all share a piece of your soul because you’re the one that wrote them. Now, I don’t know if that’s how Jewels feels; but as a fan of her work, sometimes literally the cutest, most adorable things are just the best things ever. Again, whether that’s me or her is hard to say; but those cute moments just add up to a cute person, the way I see it.

               Now, for definition number 1. Disclaimer: I don’t know how Jewels looks. Never seen her face, nothing. Which means I’m going based off of what I know about her. She is sweet, and kind, and a brilliant writer; she has a great sense of humor (based on her stories) and is overall very caring and just wonderful. Now, no matter what you look like; all those qualities add up to something beautiful. So I really couldn’t care about what’s on the outside (not trying to say that you’re not pretty, Jewels, I just don’t know what you look like), because on the inside you are cute and beautiful and adorable and utterly you. And that’s amazing.

               Now, if you still don’t believe me: let’s look at the evidence from my various Tumblr posts/asks about this very topic.

 ~ The first post is the one where I asked people to like/reblog if they think      @karaidemon is cute. Here’s what we have, excluding a reblog/commenting  thing Jewels and I did (please note that this is so far, idk if this post will get more notes after this or not. I would expect so). (book-of-charlie)

Likes

§  @Bitchwannatryme

§  @allthemetalsoftherainbow

§  @coltondresden

§  @mysparkledblog

§  @pixieprincess14

§  @virgil-angsty-sanders

§  @moist-astronaut

§  @sockpansy

§  @mirror2thespirit

§  @goliath-dave

§  @idon-kno

§  @adoratato

§  @jamicambrera

§  @the-editor-is-bored

§  @unevencube2554

§  @imantisocialgetoverit

§  @blair-nope

§  @tkwolf45

§  @joruxxi

§  @nowedontliveinigloos

§  @trashy-killjoy

§  @nervous-nellie

§  @libellus-drakena

§  @bubblegumrowan

§  @noot-noot-cats

§  @ilikesomeshtuff

§  @gaythingsingayplaces

§  @bluecometdust

§  @decadentdeerpolice

§  @theunoriginaldaisy

§  @calvindientesblancos

§  @feerkokoro1345

§  @broadwaytheanimatedseries

§  @k9cat

§  @paradoxesmakeperfectsense

§  @1-lost-fander

§  @funsizedgremlin

§  @sepporahs-blog

§  @drawtofeel

§  @itsme98z

Reblogs

§  @bitchwannatryme

§  @allthemetalsoftherainbow

§  @rptheturk

§  @pixieprincess14

§  @justt-ppeachy

§  @asofterfan

§  @virgil-angsty-sanders

§  @moist-astronaut

§  @poisonedapples

§  @idon-kno

§  @adoratato

§  @jamiecambrera

§  @khadij-al-kubra

§  @nowedontliveinigloos

§  @wayward-virgil

§  @unknownsandersfan

§  @broadwaytheanimatedseries

§  @thisismedamit

Comments

§  @asofterfan said: “You have a reputation for bEING CUTE.”

§  @adoratato said: “Oh yes definitely”

§  @khadij-al-kubra said: “Wait, this wasn’t an obvious fact to the general famdom populace?”

§  @broadwaytheanimatedseries said: “THE EFFING CUTEST”

~ The second post is the ask I sent to Jude, to see what they thought. (asofterfan)

~~ Their reaction was: “Can I get a HELL YEAH”

~~ There were several notes on this post as well.

§  Likes

·         @mollycassmith

·         @goliath-dave

·         @the-editor-is-bored

·         @imantisocialgetoverit

·         @libellus-drakena

·         @ilikesomeshtuff

·         @decadentdeerpolice

·         @doodler200

§  Reblogs and comments were done by me and will therefore not be counted in this extremely very serious study.

~ And last, but definitely not least, Thomas Sanders himself has said that every single famder is cute af. And yes, I know this is in general, but Jewels is a famder and therefore counts in ever category.

For example, his tweets (tstwitterupdates):

§  “Hey, why are you all so sweet? You make me so excited to create and share my creations and that’s the absolute BEST gift to give any artist. Thank you for being you. <3”

§  “Hey. Just a quick reminder. I come on here all the time, and you guys are always so loving and sweet and always make me smile and feeling better. You do that. You are awesome. <3”

§  “Have I mentioned lately how much I adore you guys, gals, and non-binary pals? You’re all so patient with us, and loving, and kind, and you’re so supportive of this dude who felt like getting purple hair in order to feel more comfortable as himself. Can’t thank you all enough! <3”

There are so many more. Thomas is just… the sweetest. But then, so are all of us, as he keeps reminding us. And that definitely includes Jewels.

So, even though I know you don’t think you are…. Jewels, you are cute AF, and we love you. Keep on kicking figurative butt!

                                                 Works Cited

"Cute." Merriam-Webster's Learners Dictionary, Merriam-Webster.

              www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/cute 

asofterfan. “Ask,” Tumblr. November 5, 2018.

              https://asofterfan.tumblr.com/post/179799708108/do-you-think-karaidemon-is-cute-i-need-this-for

book-of-Charlie. “Please Reblog or Like This Post If,” Tumblr. Nov. 5, 2018.

               https://book-of-charlie.tumblr.com/post/179789603984/for-those-of-you-who-dont-know-who-she-is-shes

karaidemon. “Photos,” Tumblr.

               https://karaidemon.tumblr.com/post/178556475705/photos

karaidemon. “Robot,” Tumblr.

               https://karaidemon.tumblr.com/post/177817508435/robot

tstwitterupdates. “Hey, why are you all so sweet?” Tumblr. Sept. 26, 2018.

               https://tstwitterupdates.tumblr.com/post/178499385434

tstwitterupdates. “Hey. Just a Quick Reminder.” Tumblr. Sept. 19, 2018.

               https://tstwitterupdates.tumblr.com/post/178269127019

tstwitterupdates. “Have I Mentioned Lately How Much I Adore You Guys, Gals, and Nonbinary Pals?” Tumblr. July 10, 2018.

https://tstwitterupdates.tumblr.com/post/175764942169

[pettyprocrastination]

I feel like I have to go to college to get a good job, buy I know that if I do ill have a ton of debt, so I enlisted in the military (🤢) because they'll pay my tuition. Problem sort of solved. But I have no idea what I want to do so I feel like I'm wasting time. Also seasonal depression is kicking my ass rn, I'm sad and I want to stay in bed all day. I'm also behind in one of my classes but the only way to catch up is to write two ten page papers by next Friday. And next week is finals week. Also my family is taking a trip next week and they're mad that I might not be able to go, but I can't control when my finals are.

In summary, cosmic forces, please turn me into a rock <3

ah im sorry love. I know school can definitely be rough. While I can't give advice on joining the military for school (and what advice I do give please take with a grain of salt cause im no expert on anything I'm a twenty year old college dumbass) I will say there are a metric ass ton of scholarships available for anything and everything under the sun that you can apply for! I'm lucky enough to be attending a college a twenty minute drive from my home so I can pay my tuition while not worrying about rent, but depending on where you wish to go im not sure if that's a possibility for you.

That being said, college isn't a necessity for all careers. While it does open doors, as does internships, trade schools, and just networking/reaching out to the right people. You don't need a college degree to live a good life, but for some its a section of their journey in life that helps them greatly. That being said, its okay to not know what youre doing, most of us don't. My professor told me when he went into college he planned on being a high school history teacher and to coach wrestling, and now he's a college literature professor! Nobody has their life figured out before they finish college. And a lot of us don't even have it figured out afterwards. It's okay babes.

That being said, try to figure out what career options/subjects you enjoy most! Not anything concrete, but just potential jobs/majors that interest you most and see what they can.

I think those papers are completely possible for you to do! If they are double spaced MLA format, then you just have to do a bit each day and before you know it you'll have them done! If youre struggling to figure out what you're writing on, reach out to a friend who enjoys the subject and brainstorm thesis ideas off of them. But I think ten pages by next Friday is completely doable, just take it step by step.

As for vacation, its hard, but not your fault. You aren't in control of when you have your exams, especially if they are something that you must be in person to do. If they are online exams and you have internet connection and a laptop, maybe you could do it over the vacation, but I don't know what your education set up is so you know more about the options of that than I am. Either way, its not something they will hold against you, you don't control when your finals are.

All in all, take a deep breathe, you can do this.

If anybody else has some advice on college/college funding/majors and career choices or some good resources for anon pls drop them below!!

[taesthetes]

I saw these going around so I challenge you to ship your mutuals w/ Bangtan Sonyeondan (not just pick their bias but really ship)!

oh god, but there’s so many people i want to ship bts with alksdjfalskjdfha ok ok so let’s see

♡ Seokjin » my favorite sandwich @kingdomtae !! seokjin is literally husband material, and only the best for ave!!!! also because she is my mom and he’s the mom of bts, so they can take care of each other, and he can cook for her so she can actually eat real food. also, they are the power visual couple. and i want to see ave rap cypher, and jin rapped nevermind, so he can teach her how to rap and it’ll be great. i can’t wait for their rap diss and for them to roast me so hard since i’m pretty sure ave has enough of me roasting her and one day, i’ll be more roasted than a thanksgiving turkey by her

♡ Yoongi » betsy @vantae !! idk i feel like they mesh well together for some reason? like they are both straightforward and can be blunt, so if there’s ever an issue, they would both be comfortable with stating it outright, which is so important in a relationship. communication would run smoothly between the two, and since yoongi doesn’t game apparently, betsy can teach him!! and i feel like they’d be that couple where he naps on the couch or something, and she’s doing her own thing on the other side of the couch like watching anime, but they’re still just barely touching hands, so it’s like a subtle affection but just right and perfect and yeah okay i ship them

♡ Hoseok » kina @jimlingss !! i get from her a calm and driven personality, but she can get enthusiastic and extroverted, so she reminds me a bit of yoongi. and yoongi and hoseok have such a close relationship that works so well, so i think she’d be absolutely perfect with hoseok. i just imagine hoseok dragging her to some ddr game or karaoke and he’d be so excited that she can’t help but smile and join in and be just as loud and enthusiastic. but i can also see hoseok understanding when she wants to just sit quietly and write, and he’d be there just giving her heart eyes and yes this is it

♡ Namjoon » OKAY LET ME TELL YOU THAT I AM THE BIGGEST DELJOON SHIPPER TO EVER EXIST!!! i can’t think of namjoon being with anyone else besides del @1rapmon like i know you said not to just put their bias, but i just can’t physically bring myself to ship him with anyone except del. i have never seen anyone love namjoon as much as del and i can write a 50+ page research paper with MLA format and citations and all the works on why i ship them so hard. i literally wrote a fic about them called oodal, like they are the ideal couple. they’re gonna have those couple ootd #kimdaily pics and aesthetic couple instagrams and and and they’re one of those cute small and tall couples where he can rest his chin on her head and hug her from behind and just oh my god i can’t i’m actually squealing out loud i love deljoon with all my heart and i’d sacrifice my first child for them (even if i don’t want kids but it’s a metaphor anyWAY LOVE DELJOON!!!!!)

♡ Jimin » rochelle my honey bunny chunkie wunkie @milknotes :’) she’s so soft and sweet and takes all the bs and ridiculous antics i throw at her. i think she and jimin will be the soft couple and i can see them having disgustingly cute nicknames for each other and getting matching couple outfits that everyone says they hate but it’s just because they’re all just secretly jealous. jimin will pamper her and shower her with love and affection and be so dedicated, and i feel like he is someone who wants his s/o to do the same, and i feel rochelle will do that tenfold. well she said she’d eat a lamp for her bias so there’s that. also she and jimin can gush over jungkook together

♡ Taehyung » mel @minigguk !! i think she’s a mix of jimin and jungkook, and so she would match so well with taehyung. she’s very extroverted and outgoing, much like taehyung as well, and i think the both of them are the type who wants someone who is independent as their s/o. she would indulge in his whimsical ideas and appreciate his bright, eccentric personality and they’d just be very supportive and loving towards each other. also, they’re the king and queen of selfies, so let me bask in their ethereal beauty together. the world isn’t ready to combust from their combined gorgeousness. i give you my love and support and blessing

♡ Jungkook » mia @kidguk :-) i was gonna give you yoongi just to spite you and remind you of your disloyalty, but tbh i think you’d fit with jungkook the most. you can even be gym buddies and have gym dates. and you both absolutely adore dogs, and jungkook would be an attentive boyfriend who would do anything for you in the end even if he might make fun of you for a bit at first, and you two would have a cute bantering relationship and you can make him hold your bags while you shop lmao. he’s even good at pottery so he can make you a mug for your mug collection!!! if you don’t like it, i’m sure you can sell it to other bts fans for a lot of money and also jungkook made that bf video of jimin in japan, so you both can bond over your love for jimin