#like girl...this is why you are textbook white woman liberal

[littlestarlex]

hearing my political influencer roommate say "I won't promote Biden because he hasnt called for a ceasefire to the genocide, but I am still voting for him" is so genuinely tone deaf and stupid and it alone convinced me I am DEFINITELY not voting for that stupid motherfucker (I already wasn't going to, but it confirmed I was making the right call)

the sentiment I keep hearing is "as long as it isn't Trump" but it's so frustrating to think, for some people, Biden is as bad as Trump, for some people his lack of action on major policy change has altered their lives permanently in ways than will never be undone

"well Trump is going to enact a national abortion ban, doesn't that scare you?" sure, but I'm scared right now for the very real people currently unable to get the Healthcare they need because of loss of roe v. wade, for some people that ban is already in place and they're facing very real consequences of it as we speak

I'm scared for my friends, my family, myself, and all the people I may never know who are being impacted RIGHT NOW by the democratic presidency we're currently under

just because I am not currently impacted does not mean it shouldn't be a priority, just because it doesn't directly impact me doesn't mean I should just let it go

they cannot have my vote just because they're blue, just because they pacify us with small scale wins while continuing to fund the very things that keep us from being in a position of power

shit in the government can take a long time, I get it, but clearly they can move quick when it's something they all want, like ripping the power from the people and silencing voices that want genuine change

they all want the same thing, just because democrats aren't up there screaming on stage doesn't make them any less evil than republicans

[watermelinoe]

This is kind of a weird route to terfdom but one of the things that really got me questioning the libfem blogs i followed was the strange insistence that because a thing was common in one group or they had first heard of it coming from that group, that it coming from anywhere else too was clearly copying or appropriation. Like braided bread was Jewish and Jewish only, hairsticks were asian and asain only, square peices of fabric tied at the waist for skirts were african and african only, dual dutch braids are black american and black american only. It's not that I don't think cultural appropriation is a thing but humans have been coming up with the same basic ideas for fucking ever, all over the globe, because they are simple and sensible approaches to problems. Once i started to question their weird insistance on being right about that stuff in the face of overwhelming evidence otherwise, i began to question trans politics too and look at evidence provided by radfems and spiraled from there. This ridiculous idea that humans of different cultures couldn't possibly have similar solutions to things is really similar to the idea that a western woman has nothing in common with an eastern woman and there is no universal female experiences. They seem to determined to seperate us.

sorry it took me so long to get to this, i wanted to be able to give a really well thought-out answer bc... there's a lot of nuance to this discussion imo!

my problem with the average "cultural appropriation" argument is that more often than not it's the laziest possible interpretation, usually online, usually by some white kid trying to look woke. just a little bit ago kids on tiktok were demanding these like, eastern europeans i think (don't quote me) apologize for appropriation for wearing their own traditional dress bc it "looked mexican." or however long ago when nicki minaj was in the hot seat for wearing a "native american" headdress.... that was actually caribbean.

because you're exactly right, a lot of humans were coming up with the same shit all over the world at different times.

but my other issue is this idea that all of these cultures evolved in an isolated vacuum and were never influenced by any other people groups. that's hilarious to me, personally, but also a little disturbing when i start to get major "Cultural Purity" vibes from otherwise well-meaning people who think we should all just keep to our Own Cultures :)

university is where i mainly observed this weird dissonance where i'm being bombarded with evidence of cultural amalgamation every day in my art history lectures, while in my small discussion sections i'm asked to apply cultural relativity to, say, the practice of fgm in west africa. i wrote an entirely neutral paper on its cultural significance, as if those girls (and boys as well in that case) aren't also people like me. that's just the way "they" do things. it forces you to dehumanize people from other cultures, honestly.

and this isn't to say that the dynamics of cultural interactions don't matter. there's a very good, historical reason why white americans do not and should not ever have ownership over black american culture. to me, for the most part, there's a visible difference in how braids are used in black hairstyles versus the traditional white european hairstyles. but not always. it's not really about the hair itself, but the double standard applied to black people whose hairstyles are called "unprofessional," "inappropriate," while on white people they're cool and subversive. the real harm of cultural appropriation isn't really the decontextualization of a specific culture, but that it obscures discrimination. yes, both white people and black people wear braids, but as white people we're not discriminated against when we do.

at the same time, i love to see evidence of human interaction. oppressive cultural dynamics happen on a very wide scale that can be summed up in your history textbook from a third-person perspective. on an individual level, of course discrimination still exists, but there's no real malicious significance to seeing someone do or make something and thinking "i like that, i want to join." one of my favorite things i encountered studying art history was seeing the way cultural artistic styles combined, yes, sometimes as a result of an overarching subjugating political takeover. and like, i hate to say it, but sometimes that didn't really change someone's daily life. people are very resistant to change on an individual level. look at how many people were converted to a new religion by just adding a new god to their own beliefs.

mudéjar architecture came about because of the islamic empire's conquest of spain over a thousand years ago. and check out this greco-roman influenced gandhara bodhisattva from almost 2000 years ago. cultural exchange!

"emperor qianlong watching the peacock in its pride" from 1760 qing dynasty china, influenced by the italian painter castiglione.

there's a lot more universality to our different cultures than a lot of people would like to acknowledge, i think. it dehumanizes someone to categorize them as Foreign, to label their culture as entirely separate and untouchable, and it feels to me very much like people think culture is something that can become contaminated by the wrong people interacting. and i do think heritage is incredibly important, i do think cultural appropriation hurts people from oppressed social groups. but i also think cultural exchange is very natural and important.

the refusal to see nuance (not to mention the blatant inaccuracies i mentioned at the start that happen all the time) is definitely a big part of what drove me away from liberal spaces, and i do think there are people who have a specific agenda of dividing western white women from other women around the world. specifically to keep us from empathizing with each other and finding common ground. i just think it discourages the genuine instinctive desire to explore something new and compare it to what's familiar to you.

[queendom25]

Enslaved Amongst Natives

The ignored voices of  Black Natives are only heard when faulting the Native people for their enslavement. When the topic of conversation is American chattel slavery, the practice being used by Native Americans is taken out of context to justify the actions of the oppressor. Being chattel meant being property forever and the curse being passed down to the next generation. The practice of chattel slavery was introduced to the Choctaw and Chickasaw nations as part of their assimilation into being “civilized” in the eyes of the U.S. government. Historian Richard White described this shameful part of history as “ an ill advised turn away from indigenous values and practices that resulted in the destruction of Choctaw culture and institutions that left the Choctaw people impoverished, dispossessed, and dependent.”

 When a person says statements such as  slavery has existed everywhere around the world that’s just  another form of gaslighting to justify the extent of white supremacy. Gaslighting goes farther than an abusive partner for Black people in America because oppression is America’s template. As a Black woman in America, I’m tired of the praise of bigotry while my plight is a footnote in today’s textbooks.  It comes in the form of the “white-passing” Native that refuses to acknowledge colorism, when  laws against intermarriage between the Indigenous population and Blacks existed. I am fed up with hearing this stuff happened so long ago when “A 2006 University of Georgia study showed that employers prefer light skinned black men to dark skinned black men, regardless of their qualifications.”(nccl.org) What happened in 1776 was not the birth of a nation but a deadly dance with the devil. The irony is that the devil came bearing a cross with intentions to erase the cultural beliefs of Indigenous people and call it an “act of justice”. Choctaw leaders would write letters to the reverend of Worcester, conveying a false sense of approval of the mission schools in their western district, in hopes that it would deflect a potential land grab. In the June 4th 1820 edition of the Missionary Herald, the leaders said that Choctaw girls would “ learn to cook and sew like white women,” while Black women were defeminized, and viewed as naturally inferior thus being subjected to exploitation.  In 1825, the letters from the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions reflected how the missionaries were swindlers and the Choctaw boys were forced to work the fields “in the same manner that negroes were…” The missionaries were misappropriating  the funds and supplies of the Native populace according to Robert Cole who called them “cheats and liars”. Painting Christianity as the standard for being civilized plagued the Indigenous people on their land just as it plagues Africa today. It was Thomas Jefferson that said, “You will unite yourselves with us, and we shall all be Americans. You will mix with us by marriage. Your blood will run in our veins.” These assimilationsts believed that intermarriage would hasten the Natives’ ‘advancement’ into civilization, so, when in the history of this country have all  lives mattered if non-Christian cultures do not? Why should I call myself African American if being American was never supposed to include me? 

 Before chattel slavery, Indigenous people who captured prisoners of war would temporarily keep them as servants and they were either incorporated into the community or executed. Colonial authorities were paying Natives in the form of weapons, jewelry, and other European items when Choctaws captured Chickasaws and vice versa, “an estimated 24,000 to 51,000 indians [sic] including approximately 2,000 Choctaws were sold into the British slave trade between 1670 and 1715.”French officials compensated Choctaws for Chickasaw scalps and slaves; while British officials paid Chickasaw and Creek Natives for Choctaw slaves. After an increase of African slaves in the mid-18th century, colonial planters encouraged Indigenous people to become slave catchers to prevent coordinated rebellion amongst the Africans and the Natives. 151 years prior to the Treaty of 1866, Choctaws and Chickasaws waged war against one another in Mississippi only to be consolidated like puzzle pieces in Oklahoma and, “act in concert regarding black [sic] people’s freedom and citizenship rights” despite being separate entities. Colorism was being “free” as a Black Native in 1866, but not considered a citizen in the eyes of the Natives until 1883. Colorism is the union of Natives and colonizers being encouraged while Black Natives in 1883 were barred from elective office. Chickasaw Governor Jonas Wolf stated that “The Chickasaw people cannot see any reason or just cause why they should be required to do more for their freed slaves than the white people have done in the slaveholding States for theirs...it was by the example and teaching of the white man that we purchased, at enormous prices, their slaves, and used their labor, and were forced, by the result of their war, to liberate our slaves at a great loss and sacrifice on our part, and we do not hold or consider our nation responsible in nowise for their present situation.”(pg.141) 

The story of having black skin in America is being the social pariah for not wanting to be exploited. It’s the real experience of being viewed as the lowliest of the races within a country bathed in genocide not by our hand. At every opportunity to recognize black people as allies and equals, the Choctaw and Chickasaw Nations were invested in the degradation of Black people in hopes to survive white supremacy.

Sources:

 

Black Slaves, Indian Masters: Slavery, Emacipation, and Citizenship in the Native American South. Barbara Krauthamer

https://www.bbc.co.uk/bbcthree/article/904d9237-1b8a-49bd-a801-448942b8cb52 

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/how-native-american-slaveholders-complicate-trail-tears-narrative-180968339/

[theysaywhatasadsight]

The Perils of Love

A/n: A short imagine for @bucky-smiles ‘s bollywood writing challenge, my prompt was this song . This one was beta read by @nasarogers and @mcuspidey and @thebookwormslytherin

"So then, obviously, she smacks him because what else is she gonna do? Here the idiot is trying to woo her and she's trying to get funeral arrangements for her hamster ..." her hands waved about, bangles jangling. Almost every session went like this, an hour and a half where they would actually study and the last 30 minutes spent discussing random things. Y/N sighed and closed her notebook. "I fucking hate maths. Or anything that has both numbers and letters. Who thought it was a good idea, anyway?"

Peter didn't feel mentioning his fondness for algebra would win him any points from Ms. Liberal Arts. When initially she had approached him, asking for help studying maths, he had been confused as to why a photography major needed it. She had muttered darkly that she held the same beliefs.

He wasn't complaining, though. The only class they shared was the one subject she detested, but atleast he got to see her instead of his stupid textbooks.

Peter had tried to resist, of course, devoting his attention to getting a degree and a job (though his mentor had already promised him one, he didn't want to look undeserving of it) but the force that was YN YLN was unstoppable when it came to convincing. 

Resist why, someone might ask. Studying with a pretty, intelligent girl had to have some benefits, right?

Benefits only if someone enjoyed longing and heartache, as if wishing for something that was forbidden. Nothing quite as dramatic as disapproval from anyone or interruptions in studies, it was clear that she wasn't very interested in him aside from as a study partner.

He had zoned out while she was playing with her phone, thinking about how patrols and studying had ripped away any hopes of sleep from him, when she looked up at him.

"I should go, right? Ugh, I hate doing this to you, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, uh, I was-uh not that you need to apologise- I think you, uh don't need my help anymore…"

She looked confused. "I-What?"

"I think we shouldn't study together anymore."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"It's not you, it's me."

"What the fuck?" She was plain pissed now. Snatching her books back, she stood, frowning. "Thanks for the help, I guess." And stormed away before he could say anything. 

Head in his hands, he decided to call Tony.

~

"So you like this girl, and she asks you to help her study and then you decide to break it up...why?" Tony sounded sleepy and confused.

"Shit, is it 2 already? I thought you were awake." He deflected the question.

"You know I stay awake until 3, Pete. And answer the question. Why did you end it?"

"I-just, I don't know. This just friends thing is killing me."

"Then ask her out?"

"I'm telling you, she's definitely not interested."

Tony, reading a magazine of Pepper's while she slept beside him, smiled at his son's words, mirroring those he had confessed to Rhodey some odd 15 years ago. "And how do you know that?"

"Because...well leave it. I should probably go on patrol anyway."

"Sent a suit out. Get some sleep, kiddo, I can hear your yawning from here. And stop drinking that damn coffee, you'll ruin your sleep."

"I'm not as old as you, remember?"

"Oh yeah? Tell you what, I'll come visit on Saturday and we'll see who looks more dead. And don't worry about the girl, okay? Just don't be a dick. Don't tell your aunt I said that."

~

YN asked him to coffee once to just talk, after class ended, but he refused, pleading a test in Chemistry. She pursed her lips and said nothing. 

As she walked away, all of his row turned to stare at him. Ever since they had started studying together, he had been the envy of almost every idiot there, some whispering nefarious rumours over his and her intentions. 

"Did you two break up?" One of them whispered.

"You seem quite interested?" He whispered back, making all of them turn back to packing their things up.

She tried talking to him again when she ran into him in the hallway, but he got away citing a class he was late to. 

Irritated, YN stormed up to his dorm, murder written on her face. His floormates, who liked to tease them normally, were scarce, probably terrified. 

She knocked thrice at the door, jaw tight. At the lack of response, she knocked again. She fished out her phone from her jeans, cursing the company for making it so tight and herself for wearing it instead of her normal leggings. She called Peter again, determined to talk.

~

"So yeah, Vogue didn't exactly cover all the angst of the relationship. Jesus, half of it they made up." Tony sat on the bed while Peter lounged on the chair, poor posture and leg resting on the table. He merely hummed. While Tony's advice was great, he wasn't sure he really understood the situation.

"I just-you knew at some level Pepper would be willing to get with you, right? I don't think that's the case here."

"Shall I tell you a secret? No girl is willing to study a subject she hates, that too without break, for only passing a subject. Just so you know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have cooking duty today." Stark got up, stretching. "I really do feel dead, wow." 

Peter rolled his eyes but got up to drop Tony off. They both heard the knock at the same time. It rang three times, and after a gap, again. He checked his phone, which showed missed calls from the girl he was dreading to talk to.

~

The door swung open and she was greeted by a face she'd only seen on TV. Tony Stark smiled at her, muttering an excuse me, walked away whistling. She tilted her head and looked at Peter, who had gotten up to close the door.

"Mind if I come in? Can I distract the scholar for two minutes?" Her voice was sugary sweet but her eyes betrayed her frustration.

"Sure, come on in." He opened the door fully. She came in, slamming it shut. She thrust the tiny tetrapack container she held towards him. Twisting it, he saw it was a juice box. Peter raised a single eyebrow.

"Since you want to act so childish." She snarked, stabbing a hole in her own capri sun. "You must be getting such good grades now that you're not studying with me."

"That's not the thing…" he looked away.

"Eye contact, please."

"Look, this just friends thing. I can't do it. I legitimately cannot. First of all, I hate maths, and second, even if I didn't, I can't focus on anything but you. Anytime you tell me about how cute that guy in psych is or how that girl in ethics helped you I actually go ballistic. Totally creepy, I know. I want you to be my girlfriend, but since that is not possible. That goddamn mole on your chin keeps following me, and I just wanna kiss you-" he was interrupted in his rant by her lips on his. 

3 seconds later, she broke away, smiling from ear to ear. Peter was still in shock, made catatonic by the fact that YN HAD JUST KISSED HIM.

Before he could say anything, she was kissing him again, dragging him forward by the shirt.

~

Patting his pockets, Tony checked for his wallet to pay for the can from the vending machine when he realised he'd probably left it behind, showing Peter a photograph of Pepper he carried that was so old, it was ripping at the edges.

"Fuck." He turned around, hoping the kids wouldn't be fighting. He had enough white hairs trying to break up Morgan's kindergarten fights. No one had warned him kids would be so much trouble.

Except Pepper, of course. She really was the best.

~

Their fervent making out was interrupted by the door swinging open, Tony's voice drifting into the room.

"You seen my wallet? Can't lose that photo… Ms.Potts made sure every other copy was destroyed, I swear the woman is more vain than me-OH MY GOD OKAY I DID NOT NEED TO SEE THAT." 

YN, turning around to lash the person interrupting with her fiery tongue tripped and fell when she saw who it was, dragging Peter, who she held by the shirt, down with her. They landed in a heap on the floor.

Tony grabbed his wallet, put a finger on his lips and walked away, closing the door behind him.

"Wanna get that coffee now or…?"

"I may have another capri sun. I'm too embarrassed to go out now."

YN laughed and pecked him on the cheek. 

[alexsmitposts]

Food Stamp Cuts – Western Capitalism & “Useless Eaters” Donald Trump recently announced changes to the US Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), commonly called “Food Stamps.” This program enables low income Americans to buy food. As a result, 750,000 people will immediately lose their food assistance, while it is expected that as many as 3 million will be deprived of their benefits in the near future. Meanwhile, Michael Bloomberg, former New York City Mayor, has announced that he is running for President of the United States as a Democrat. Many are revisiting his leadership of New York City and the many controversial things he did. Among them is was a subway advertisement campaign intended to discourage teen girls from becoming mothers by shaming them. The ads, showing a small child with the words “I’m twice as likely not to graduate high school because you had me as a teen” had the obvious, though unstated goal of increasing abortion among low-income New York City residents, many of which are not white. Unemployment in the USA is low currently, and despite numerous projections that things could get bad soon, the stock market numbers and other measurements currently look somewhat better than most of the last decade. So, why cut food stamps? Eliminating “Useless Eaters” To Save Capitalism Those who equate the Soviet Union with Nazi Germany overlook many very key differences between the two countries and their political systems. One of the most obvious is this: the Soviet Union worked very hard to expand its population, while the Nazis worked very hard to reduce their population. As Stalin’s Five Year Economic plans created huge steel mills and power plants, and new universities sprung up across the Soviet Union amid the abolition of illiteracy, a special prize called “Mother of the Soviet Union” was given to any woman who had more than 10 children. The Soviet government wanted more people to be born and to join in the project of building and developing a new, strong socialist country. However, Nazi Germany did the opposite and began forcibly sterilizing people. In 1934, just a year after the Nazis took power, 300,000 to 400,000 people were forcibly sterilized. A law was passed in 1935 making it illegal for anyone to get married if any kind of hereditary ailment could be passed on to the children. Following the sterilizations came the exterminations. The Nazi government began referring to disabled people as “useless eaters” and executing them in gas chambers. Eventually, the Nazi state began exterminating Jews, Gypsies, Homosexuals and Political Dissidents. The justification for this “final solution” was belief that all social defects were hereditary and needed to be eliminated from the gene pool. The Nazis were big believers in the concept of “overpopulation,” though this was a concept they did not invent. The term comes from the work of Robert Thomas Malthus, the British economist who blamed the French Revolution and the social unrest of the 1790s on the population growing at a faster rate than the food supply. John D. Rockefeller, the billionaire and founder of Standard Oil (now Exxon-Mobil)  was a big supporter of Malthus and his economic theories. Eventually Rockefeller bankrolled the Birth Control League of Margaret Sanger, now known as “Planned Parenthood.” The organization pushed for the legalization of contraception and abortion. One of the posters used to raise funds for the Birth Control League was a poster of a starving child holding out an empty bowl begging for food. Though Margaret Sanger had once been a socialist, as she became the voice of the “Birth Control” movement she published explicitly racist books and pamphlets and spoke at Ku Klux Klan events. She also began using phrases like “the cruelty of charity” arguing that the social welfare state was immoral because it encouraged inferior people to breed. When Margaret Sanger traded socialism for sex, and abandoned class struggle in pursuit of sexual liberation, she stopped advocating for the working class. During the 1930s depression, the Communist Party USA organized “Hunger Marches” saying “Don’t Starve, Fight!”  The Communist Party USA said the great depression pointed toward the need for the US economy to reorganized in a rational way, to serve the people, not the irrationality of profits. However, Margaret Sanger took the opposite approach, working to reduce “overpopulation” by eliminating “useless eaters.” Automation & The Crisis of Capitalism The causes of the Great Depression were rooted in the technological advancements of the 1920s. Henry Ford’s assembly line innovations and other breakthroughs made it easier for radios, cars, and other commodities to be churned out more efficiently than ever before. Soon the market was glutted with more products than ever before, produced more efficiently than ever before. However, across the western world millions of workers were left “outcast and starving” because they had no place at the assembly line. They could not afford to buy these products, and soon banks failed, corporations collapsed, and the US experienced an episode of mass malnutrition. The 2008 financial crisis was the opening explosion of a long-term crisis rooted in the same problem, decades later. The innovations of Henry Ford and the 1920s factory owners were child’s play compared to the continuing computer revolution, marching forward at a rapid pace since the 1980s. Andrew Yang, the maverick Democratic Presidential candidate continues to highlight the looming threat of mass unemployment due to technology. He told the New York Times: “All you need is self-driving cars to destabilize society…we’re going to have a million truck drivers out of work who are 94 percent male, with an average level of education of high school or one year of college. That one innovation will be enough to create riots in the street. And we’re about to do the same thing to retail workers, call center workers, fast-food workers, insurance companies, accounting firms.” Among Silicon Valley forecasters, the alarm bells about automation are going off, and proposals such as “universal basic income” are being raised. The underlying basis of the discussion is the same as Malthus, Sanger and Rockefeller’s discussion in times past. The voices raising alarm about the crisis of automation are all essentially asking “Soon millions and millions of Americans will have no place in the economy. What do we do about all the useless eaters?” Western capitalism has entered a stage where it views the population not as an asset, but as a burden. Instead of seeing each citizen as capable of creating a contribution to society, and making the country better, the population is viewed as a problematic horde that must be carefully managed and prevented from causing further problems. “Populism” is presented as a great evil, because it involves the rabble asserting political aspirations deemed by the elite to be unacceptable. Even much of what passes for “socialism” in 21st Century America, addresses the question in the same manner. The “Democratic Socialist” current argues that as technology eliminates jobs, more money should be spent to provide healthcare and education to the population. At the same time, however, the “Democratic Socialist” voices like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Bernie Sanders advocate reducing US living standards and consumption in the name of environmentalism. They argue that Americans consume too many resources, and in the name of climate sustainability, the population should transition to a lifestyle of less extravagance. However, the basic solution to this long standing problem seems to be ignored. Karl Marx’s magnum opus, the economic textbook called “Capital” discusses the General Law of Capitalist Accumulation and workers competition with machines, pointing toward the only real way to resolve this contradiction. The banks, factories and industries must be operated in a rational way. The economy must not operate on the basis of profits. In a centrally planned economy, in which profits are no longer in command, automation would increase the wealth of society, and abundance would not result in poverty. The pessimism of the 21st century western world is rooted in the economic reality that under the rule of profits, technology and historical progress continue to point toward great catastrophe. It is only by re-opening the question of whether or not socialism is a viable alternative that this pessimism can be overcome.

[honeyedhoseok]

besitos | ta!jimin

genre: fluffity-fluff

word count: 16.3k

summary: Switching to a new major is always nerve-wracking, but having a totally hot TA to look at for the rest of the semester sure does ease the pain…

A/N: this most certainly would not have been posted without the help of my lovely best friends/beta readers/shook club members: @risinginfire & @sleevelessparkjimin . thanks for all of your help and endless support…we hope you all love TA!Jimin as much as we do <3

Your flats slapped against the sidewalk harshly, your jaunty speed-walking technique seemingly no good against the time, which read 11:26 on the small watch on your wrist. You sped on, the weight of your book bag feeling heavier and heavier on your shoulders with the amount of energy you were exerting to make it to your class on time. There were so many people out around campus because it was almost lunch time, and a sea of heads bobbed in front of you on both sides of the walkway while people whizzed past you on long-boards and bicycles. You cursed yourself again for not getting your bike chain fixed over the summer like your dad had advised—it would have come in handy when you were running late, like today.

It was the first day, and even though you knew there wasn’t much to cover other than the syllabus and attendance policies and where to buy the textbook, you still didn’t want to be late. This was your intro creative writing class, the one that you’d been looking forward to all week. This was the class that was going to tell you whether or not you would change your major from Psychology to Creative Writing in the fall—whether fiction writing really was your strong point, or if it was just a hobby you’d invested years of useless time into.

You looked at your watch again, eyes going wide at the sight that you had exactly a minute and a half to make it to class—which was still a good ways away. You broke out into a sprint, darting in and out of the people scattered in front of you, holding onto the straps of your book bag to keep it from bouncing up and down on your back and ignoring the judgmental stares of those whose eyes you met.

You burst into the lecture hall with twenty seconds to spare, taking in its vastness before quickly sliding into an empty seat near the back. You hated sitting at the back, but today you had no choice.

There was a good amount of people in your class—almost eighty the last time you’d looked at the class roster online—and you glanced around at who was there, looking for any familiar faces. People were talking among themselves, catching up with their friends and asking about each other’s summers, complimenting each other’s longer hair and tanner skin, asking about when the first frat party was going to be. There was an excited buzz that drifted throughout the room, the kind of buzz that only the first week of classes could bring before everyone got weighed down with assignments and homework.

You sighed, realizing there was no one you knew in your class. You didn’t expect to know anyone anyways. All of your friends were in the complete opposite majors than you—communications, chemistry, international business—and didn’t do anything creative in their spare time. You were digging around in your bag for the syllabus you’d printed out last night, just as an older woman stepped up to the podium that was fixated at front, fiddling with the microphone before speaking into it.

“Can everyone hear me? Okay, so, good afternoon everyone. I’m your head instructor for this course. You can call me Irene. First things first—is everyone supposed to be in CRW 201: Intro to Creative Writing from 11:30-12:45? If not, you might want to find what class you’re really supposed to be in, and quick.”

You looked around. No one moved, so Irene continued.

“Okay, good. Second, you’ll see on your syllabus that each of you was assigned a different section number. This intro class works a little different than most classes. On Tuesdays, we meet in here, in this lecture hall, all together and listen to various guest speakers that we’ll have throughout the semester. On Thursday, you’ll split off with your assigned TA—who you have depends on what section number was assigned to you—and you will have assignments and workshop and all the fun, exciting things that come with taking a creative writing class.”

There was a shuffling of papers immediately as she finished her sentence. Everyone was eager to know the name of their part-time teacher, and you found yourself flipping through your syllabus trying to find yours, too. All you had was a section number beside your last name: 008.

As Irene began telling a little about herself, you looked around once again, your eyes landing on a row of people sitting at the very front, right below where the podium was. They looked a little older, somehow more mature, than the average college student, but that didn’t matter because you could never tell anyone’s age these days anyway.

You noticed immediately that they were dressed nicer than everyone else in the lecture hall. They looked cool, in an effortless, fashionable way—like they were dressed the part of your stereotypical writer. You wanted to dislike their appearances, but you had to admit it was a nice breath of fresh air compared to the numerous amount of exercise shorts, big t-shirts and running sneakers that you saw around campus constantly.

You knew before Irene introduced them that they were the TAs. “I’m going to allow each of them to come up and introduce themselves—“

“Why can’t we introduce each other?” One of them yelled from their seat, and Irene laughed a little, shrugging her shoulders. She was obviously close with the TAs—you wondered how that came to be—had they had her class before as undergraduate students?

“Fine, introduce each other, then,” Irene agreed. “That should be more entertaining for a first day of class. Who’s first?”

They conversed among themselves in the front row, before a boy with yellowish-blonde dyed hair was pushed out of his seat and towards the front by a girl with dark hair. “Go first, Youngjae,” she murmured, and everyone else nodded in agreement.

“What, do I just pick who I want to introduce? Okay.” He too fiddled with the microphone, bringing it to his height before speaking softly into it. “Hello? Can everyone hear me?”

A few people murmured yes, and he laughed, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Okay well, hello everyone. I’m Youngjae, my concentration is in nonfiction and my class is section 001. I’m going to be introducing one of my fellow TA’s who I’ve known since we were undergrads. She is a fiction writer who specializes in fantasy—seriously, she writes some of the best alternate universe stuff I’ve ever read—“ he paused as the TAs chuckled among themselves, “—she’s been abroad three times, and she’s currently um, dating this handsome guy standing in front of you all today!”

A few girls in the class ‘aw’-ed along with the TAs and a few people clapped. You smiled, already enjoying the atmosphere of the class. It was so much different than your other, boring lecturers in the past who read off of power-point slides for an hour while you scribbled notes as quick as you could. Were these the perks of being a liberal arts student?

Youngjae laughed sheepishly, but you could see the apparent rosiness of his cheeks all the way from your seat at the back. “Everyone, I introduce to you my fellow TA, Jessica.”

Everyone in the lecture hall clapped and you watched as Jessica took Youngjae’s place on stage, swatting at his arm playfully as she passed him. Her long skirt swished around her as she walked daintily onto the stage, adjusting the mic again to her frame that was shorter than Youngjae’s.

“Like Youngjae said, I am a TA that specializes in fiction, but I also dabble in the other forms of creative writing as well. I’m excited to meet you all.”

Jessica then introduced Wendy, who introduced Ji-eun, who introduced DK, and so on, until there was one more TA left.

“This next TA, he’s—ladies, settle down, okay? Guys too, actually,” the TA named Taehyung warned, holding up his hands in a protective gesture. You sat up in your chair a little, curious to see the face of the last TA in the row. His back was turned to you, of course, so all you could see was a mop of shiny, dark hair and the collar of his white shirt. “He’s a poet, and a damn good one at that. He’s smart and funny, but he’s going to act shy when he gets up here. Don’t let it fool you, okay?”

The dark-haired TA turned to the side as someone whispered something to him, and even from your seat you could tell he had a gorgeous, genuine smile.

“He’s also got a killer sense of style and his hair is a work of art, just like his writing,” Taehyung added, and then whispered bastard underneath his breath into the microphone, earning laughs from the students in the lecture hall. “Those of you lucky enough to have him, meet your TA, Park Jimin.”

Jimin walked up to the podium, his eyes squinting from the force of the blinding smile that was plastered on his face. Taehyung dropped to his knees and bowed to him and he laughed, obviously embarrassed at his friend. Jimin was the type of person that laughed with his whole body, and the force of it had him half bent over, throwing himself clumsily up the rest of the steps and towards the podium.

The first thing you noticed was his short, but muscular build. His biceps flexed in his shirt as he, too adjusted the mic, and you could see the definition in his thigh muscles through the well-fitted black jeans he wore.

“Contrary to what he just said, I am kind of shy—just not about writing,” Jimin said, grinning as he flicked his fringe out of his eyes.

You, along with everyone else in the lecture hall seemed to be watching him intently. There was no shuffling of papers, no mumbling of voices. Hell, even the boys seemed to be paying attention, just as Taehyung had said.

“My section is 008, I’ll be your TA if you’re in that section. I’m Park Jimin—come to me if you have any questions or concerns about writing poetry, or if you just want to talk. I’m all ears.”

“Don’t tell them that!” Taehyung said loudly, “There are freshman in here! Do you want a lawsuit on your hands?”

Jimin laughed, though it was more of a giggle, and because he was still standing behind the podium, it echoed through the speakers of the lecture hall, amplifying the sound and spreading it throughout the room. His laugh made a happy smile creep onto your face, too, and you found your eyes still on him well after he found his seat and Irene took her place at the front again.

“Thank you, TAs, for introducing yourself. I’m glad the students got to see a little bit of your personality in that, it makes everyone so much more excited for Thursday, right?”

Everyone agreed loudly, the atmosphere rising once again at the realization that class was almost over.

“I’m going to call out the TA’s section numbers one more time so listen up. Youngjae 001. Tiffany 002. Ji-eun 003. DK 004. Wendy 005. Minhyuk 006. Taehyung 007. And Jimin 008. Look on your syllabus and find where their respective classrooms are, and I’ll see you all in here next Tuesday at 11:30. Have a good rest of your week!”

You looked down at your syllabus once again, trying to fight the smile that was forcing its way onto your face as your gaze zoned in once more on the digits beside your last name: 008.

Jimin was your TA, and you couldn’t wait until class on Thursday.

You got to class early on Thursday—so early, in fact, that you sat outside the door scrolling on your phone and sipping your coffee until pair of black combat boots walked up beside you, jingling keys as they struggled to unlock the door.

You peeked up to see Jimin in a loose-fitting white t-shirt and black jeans—an outfit strikingly similar to what he was wearing on Tuesday—a few notebooks piled under one arm and his book bag on his back as he struggled to hold onto his coffee while opening the door. You scrambled to your feet, offering to take the coffee and books out of his hand with a shy smile.

“Thanks,” he nodded, passing off his stuff to you and finally turning the key and pushing the door open. The classroom was filled with a small desk off to the side, a clean, seemingly-unused whiteboard and markers, and a long round table that stretched from one end of the room to the other. Jimin sat his things down at the end closest to the door, and you nonchalantly grabbed the seat next to him, setting your book bag down by your legs and Jimin’s coffee and books beside you.

You pulled out your phone, glancing at the time and swiping the screen to answer some messages. You peeked up every once in awhile at Jimin, who was shuffling around the room looking through drawers for something.

“I can’t find the damn mouse for the computer.”

It took you a second to realize he was talking to you. “Oh—“ you jumped up, looking around and spotting it across the room under the desk. You scooped it up, handing it to Jimin and he thanked you. Another person walked into the room then, setting their things down and immediately pulling out their phone, not bothering to speak to either of you due to the massive headphones they were sporting on their ears.

“Are you a freshman?” Jimin asked, plopping down into his chair beside you finally. He was intimidating up close—though he gave off nothing but friendly vibes with his charming smile, he was completely and utterly beautiful. His hair laid messily on his forehead, strands escaping the sunglasses that were trying hard to keep his hair back but failing, and though his jaw was sharp, it was paired with a seemingly unreal smooth, baby face.

How old was he?

“No, I’m actually a junior.”

“Oh? But you’re taking an intro class? Is it to fulfill one of your gen ed requirements?”

“Um, no,” you laughed nervously, picking at a piece of the tabletop that was chipping away. Jimin’s gaze was burning into you, even though you knew his questions were harmless. “I’ve been a psychology major since I started college, but it’s not really my thing, you know? Fulfilling my parents dreams, all that jazz.” You waved your hand in the air dismissively, suddenly wondering why you felt the need to tell him all of this. “I really want to write, and so I’m kind of using this class as the first step. If I do well then I’ll keep going—“

“And what if you don’t?” Jimin chuckled a little, his eyebrows raising.

You sighed wistfully. “Then I guess I’ll continue on in my parent’s footsteps.”

“That wasn’t to discourage you, I’m sure you’ll do fine. I’m a pretty easy TA,” Jimin said reassuringly, shooting you a smile before more students filed into the classroom and he began greeting them. You bit your lip, looking down at your phone once more, only then starting to feel the hotness creeping up your neck and face. You quickly swiped to your camera, looking at your nervous, flushed cheeks and hoping Jimin thought it was because you’d just come in from the sweltering heat outside and not because you had melted into a puddle the moment he’d spoken to you.

Class started not long after and Jimin began with introducing himself. He was a first year graduate student, having obtained his undergraduate degree from a college up north. His concentration was poetry, and he drew inspiration from poets like Walt Whitman and T.S. Eliot in his own work, which was mostly a collection of random pieces he’d written over the years when inspiration struck or from assignment prompts in his undergrad.

Jimin passed out the syllabus, quickly going over his grading rubric and classroom expectation. “This grading system is basically the same as every other TA in the building. You’ll have five small, one-page assignments that will be due on Thursdays in this classroom. You’ll read them aloud, so bring copies for other students. Some weeks we’ll do workshop, where your peers will give you their opinions on your work,” he paused, looking up at the faces around him, trying to gauge reactions. “It’s not as horrible as you think, don’t worry.”

He flashed a warm, beautiful, reassuring smile that made your eyes zone in on his lips before he continued, “Your participation grade comes from what you do inside the classroom—giving feedback, asking questions, paying attention to me—and also what you do when we have class in the lecture hall. If you ask questions, take notes and look attentive you’ll be fine. Your final portfolio is due at the end of the semester, and that includes a fiction piece, a nonfiction piece and two poems. You can worry about that a little later on, though. Right now, focus on your first assignment and the feedback you get from that. Then, go from there.”

Jimin looked around once more, before raising his eyebrows. “Any questions?”

A girl at the end of the table raised her hand. “It says our first assignment is due next Thursday. Are you going to tell us about it today?”

“I am, but first we need to do introductions.” You could see the entire table stiffen at once at his words, including yourself. Icebreakers were so annoying and awkward, and you hated them. “Yeah, I know no one likes them but I need to learn your names, and fast. So it’s slightly necessary.”

Jimin grabbed his grading book from his desk and returned to his seat. Everyone was dead silent in the classroom so he peeked up from under his bangs, raking his eyes over the strained expressions. “Oh, come on. I won’t make you talk to each other or anything, I’m just gonna ask you to say your name, major and if you could be any insect in the world, what would it be. Simple enough, right?”

You bit your lip as Jimin called the first person’s name to begin, racking your head for an answer that would be suitable. You wanted to take the question seriously, and not just say something like a butterfly or a bumblebee like some of the other girls in the class were saying. It went quickly around the table until it got to you, and Jimin laid his curious gaze on you, dark eyes searching your face as he spoke.

“Last but not least?”

You cleared your throat nervously. “Um, I’m Y/N. Psychology major, but I’m thinking of changing that to Creative Writing.” A smile bloomed on Jimin’s face at this, making his eyes close partially from the force of it. “If I could be any insect…I would be a gypsy moth.”

“A gypsy moth?” Jimin repeated, his eyes growing a little wider. “That’s interesting, I’ve never heard anyone say that one before. I love that.”

He grinned at you then, and you smiled a little back, moving your gaze down to the table in front of you to get away from the pure sunshine that radiated from his teeth when he smiled. The other students in the class seemed to be impressed by your answer as well, and it only made you more embarrassed. You should have just said a butterfly or something simple like everyone else.

“Now, on to the assignment, and then I’ll let you guys get out of here early since it’s technically still syllabus day for this class.”

Jimin got up from his chair to walk around aimlessly while he talked, and you watched the muscles in his legs flex in his jeans, making you swallow harshly.

“The first unit is poetry, so of course I’m really excited to see what you guys come up with. For this first piece, write a page—it can be two lines, it can be three stanzas, I don’t care—about a body part or multiple body parts. But I don’t want to know what those body part are. I want you to use your best metaphor skills to make it seem as though you are talking about something else entirely.”

“Like a comparison?” A guy asked, his brow furrowing.

“Exactly, and you can use anything. You can compare skinny fingers to tree limbs, hair to long, golden strands of hay, someone’s smile to…a cheshire cat. Anything you can think of. Don’t think too hard and just let it flow naturally, okay?” Jimin said, smiling softly once more, his eyes scanning over the room. “Any questions? You guys are free to go if not.”

You quickly wrote the assignment down in your planner, stuffing it back into your book bag as people around you shuffled out of the classroom. You were the last one to leave and Jimin watched you, looking like a question was poised on the edge of his lips.

You gave a nervous head nod, swinging your book bag onto your back and walking towards the exit when he spoke. “Y/N, what made you pick a gypsy moth?”

You froze, looking over your shoulder at him. You must have looked completely shocked because Jimin cleared his throat awkwardly, chuckling. “I’m just curious is all. Are you interested in insects?”

“God, no,” you blurted out, and Jimin’s smile grew in size. “It just came to me because I was watching something on TV the other day about nocturnal animals. I can kind of relate, since I’m most active at night so I—“ you paused, laughing embarrassingly at your own rant. “Sorry, that was way too much information.”

“No, no, it’s fine. That’s great, I completely understand,” he stared intensely for a second too long, and you felt like your knees were about to give out from underneath you. “See you on Tuesday, Y/N.”

“See you,” you mumbled, turning on your heel and quickly exiting the classroom, ducking your head down and closing your eyes briefly, cursing yourself in your head for being so lame. Because of this, you weren’t looking where you were going as you walked down the short hallway, and stumbled right into Taehyung as he was coming out of his classroom. The books that were in his hand tumbled to the floor, sliding gracefully across the linoleum away from the both of you.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you said, dropping to your knees to gather the books as Taehyung did the same.

“Don’t worry about it, it was totally me. I was rushing to get across campus to my girlfriend,” he peeked up at you under his bangs, giving you a friendly smile that made you smile back at him.

“You know how demanding women can be, Tae. You better hurry,” Jimin said from behind you, and you whipped your head around to see him leaning against his doorframe with his arms crossed, an amused expression on his face.

“Yeah I know man, I’m supposed to run across campus to meet her in between classes and pay for her lunch. What’s with that? Tsk, women!” he grumbled, shaking his head as he stood back up. “I’ll see you tonight, right Jimin? Thanks again—“ he paused, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

You handed Taehyung his books, “Y/N,” you said. “Sorry. Again.”

Jimin disappeared back inside his classroom and Taehyung took off the way he was going before, so you adjusted the straps on your book bag, settling the weight comfortably on your shoulders before you began the walk back to your apartment.

“How was class?” your roommate Sana asked as you set your stuff down, closing the door behind you. She was in a towel on a barstool at the counter, shoveling cereal into her face as she typed on her laptop. “Bio is a bust, by the way. Lab is gonna suck real hard at seven am every Tuesday. I can’t wait to die a slow, painful death every week.”

You laughed, grabbing a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. “It was fine, I guess. I got my first poetry assignment,” you paused, fanning yourself. “Jesus, it’s hot as balls in here. What does Jihyo have the AC on?”

“Oh, sorry,” Sana hopped off the bar stool, going over to the thermostat and cutting it down. You sagged with relief at the familiar hum of the unit running, pumping cool air through the vent above you. “I heard extra steamy showers are good for your pores so I cut the heat on for a second. Jihyo is in her room passed out, she went out last night.”

“Already? Damn. Well I’m sure she’ll be good and pissed when she wakes up in a pool of her own sweat,” you muttered, making Sana laugh. “Are we still going out tonight?”

After meeting last year in a club downtown, Thursdays had become you, Sana and Jihyo’s designated night out. All of you made sure your class schedules revolved around having no Friday classes for the event since all of the best deals at the bars downtown were on Thirsty Thursday.

“I think so? That’s probably why she’s napping, so she’ll be ready. What better way to celebrate the first week of school being over?” She rose again to walk to the sink and rinse out her bowl. “Wait, tell me some stuff about hot TA guy. Was he everything you dreamed of and more?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not even like that—he’s really intelligent. He seems chill about teaching, too, so hopefully this class will be an easy A.”

“So you get a hot TA and an easy class and I get Biology at seven am on Thursdays?” Sana looked above at the ceiling, holding her hands out in question to the divinity. “Why? What have I ever done to you?”

“I’m positive he’s not in the mood to talk to you right now,” you quipped, giving her an annoyed look that she ignored.

Jihyo chose that moment to wake up, and you and Sana heard her angry footsteps towards her door seconds before it was flung open, “Can someone tell me why in the fuck I’m lying in the fucking Sahara in my own bedroom? My armpits look like swimming pools!”

Sana and Jihyo were still bickering later that night as the three of you stood outside, waiting for your Uber that was going to take you downtown.

“Are any of those dumb home remedies actually doing anything for your skin? Because, to be honest, you look the exact fucking same every day when you wake up.”

“When my pores are closed up when I’m older and yours are still the size of the Grand Canyon, we’ll see who’s talking then,” Sana snapped, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“My pores are fine!”

“Yeah, sure they are. Tell that to the grease spot on your forehead right now.”

You closed your eyes, blowing a long stream of air out of your nose to keep yourself centered. You and your roommates were all really good friends—you wouldn’t have wanted to live with each other if you weren’t. It was just that sometimes Sana and Jihyo would get in these moods where everything the other did pissed them off—today was one of those times—and you were stuck babying them to get along with each other until they got over it.

“You guys, cut that shit out so our Uber driver doesn’t get pissed,” you grumbled as you watched a black town car sidle up to the curb a few feet in front of you. “Both of you just need a drink.”

“Oh how right you are, Y/N,” Jihyo sang as she brushed past you, making sure to take the front seat so that there was physical space between her and Sana. You noticed her flip the sun visor down immediately, dabbing at her forehead with a little powder despite her earlier words, making Sana snort in the seat beside you.

“You ladies heading out tonight?” your driver asked, looking back at you in the rearview mirror.

“Yes sir, to the KGB,” you answered. “Thank you for picking us up.”

He hummed a response before turning the radio back up to a no-talking level, jazz music filling the car as he pulled away from the curb. You looked at Sana, raising your eyebrows, to which she mimed pulled a zipper across her mouth. At least this way you knew there was no way for Sana and Jihyo to resume their bickering.

The ride took no longer than fifteen minutes, and you were soon pulling up at the familiar building that had been home to more-than-a-few cases of alcohol-induced puking for your group. Months before you had turned twenty-one, you were using a fake to sneak yourself in for night-long excursions with Sana and Jihyo so that you wouldn’t miss out on anything. Now it felt good to be holding your real ID in your hand as the three of you got out of the car, following the dip of the pavement down to the doors of the club.

“Yes! Drinks are half off tonight until twelve!” You clicked your phone on, checking the time. “That means I have about forty-five minutes to get my fill. If you’ll excuse me.”

You separated from your roommates to sidle up at the bar, perching yourself on a stool and placing your clutch and phone on the counter in front of you. “I’ll have a margarita please,” you hummed politely, giving the bartender a smile. “The biggest size you have.”

“Jesus, Y/N, you can’t wait for us to catch up? I didn’t even get to scope out the place before you disappeared,” Sana grumbled, sitting on your left side as Jihyo sat on your right. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m not here for the bickering tonight, I just wanna drink.”

“Me too,” Jihyo said, grabbing the bartender’s attention. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

“I guess I will too,” Sana agreed. “Put it on my tab.”

While you waited, you looked around, taking in the usual scenes of the KGB. There were some people in booths sipping on their drinks as they yelled to their friends to be heard above the pounding music coming from the speakers. The rhythm beat a steady pattern against your chest and you nodded your head in time, enjoying it. You guys had come in at the perfect time—right before the normal Thursday crowd showed up at twelve—so you could actually spend some time together before Sana and Jihyo found themselves grinding against some strangers on the dance floor.

“You gonna sit in your usual spot tonight? Or you gonna make a move on someone?” Jihyo asked, leaning in and playfully nudging your side.

“Don’t be stupid,” Sana yelled, leaning in over you to be heard by Jihyo. “Y/N never goes out of her comfort zone.”

“I’m out of my comfort zone just being here with you two right now,” you grumbled, pushing both of their heads out of the way so that you could grab your margarita from the bartender. “Shut up and drink your damn drink.”

“Yes ma’am!”

“See, that’s why you never go home with anyone,” Jihyo commented in between sips. “Your attitude scares people away.

“Bite me!”

“That’s a start,” Sana said, licking some of the salt off of her rim. “Say that to someone and I bet you get a grade A dicking-down.”

You groaned, looking up at the ceiling above you for help. “Hey, remember when Sana asked you what she ever did to you earlier? Well what the fuck did I do to have to deal with this tonight, huh?”

“Sorry, line’s busy,” Sana chirped, laughing as she pretended to hang up the phone on the divinity. “Fine, we’ll leave you alone for now, but no grumbling later when I take home that one over there.” She pointed over you and Jihyo’s shoulders at someone, making the both of your turn to follow the direction of her baby pink fingernail.

Standing by the door was Taehyung and a few other TA’s—you recognized Youngjae and Minhyuk as they filed in behind him—all dressed in clubbing attire that made them almost unrecognizable when compared to their outfits from Tuesday.

“Oh my god,” you slapped Jihyo’s arm in front of you repeatedly. “Those are the TA’s from my creative writing class.”

“What the fuck are they doing here? Shouldn’t they be brooding? You know, hunched over their journals writing about how shitty the world is?” Jihyo asked, stirring her straw in her margarita absentmindedly.

“I’ve told you a thousand times not all writers are like that.”

“And I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Wait,” Sana said, leaning close to you again. “Does that mean hot TA guy is here? Is he the guy I just pointed at?”

“God, no, that’s Taehyung,” you shook your head. “Jimin isn’t with them.” You couldn’t help the disappointment that settled into your stomach at realizing his mop of black hair wasn’t with the others. You remembered him saying earlier that he would see Taehyung tonight, was he just running late?

“Damn I need to be a writer,” Sana commented, her eyes darkening with the thoughts that were running through her head as she watched Taehyung make his way to a booth a little ways away from the bar. You turned around quickly as the group walked past, not wanting to be noticed just yet. You weren’t sure he would notice you anyway, but you still wanted the comfort of watching the TA’s outside of the classroom for a bit.

Taehyung seemed to be the leader of the group, his mop of tawny hair reflecting in the lighting above the book as he quickly got everyone’s preferences and headed over to the bar. He was lively, his wide, inviting smile never leaving his face as he fought to keep the atmosphere of the group from falling. It was a little different than Jimin—you figured Taehyung was the type to lead a conversation if  you were to talk to him–whereas with Jimin it seemed he would rather listen than talk.

You thought quickly about gathering your things to leave and head out to the dancefloor as he walked over, but Sana’s grip on your wrist kept you imprisoned to your barstool.

“He’s coming!” she yelled a little too loudly, and you shushed her. “Should I talk to him?”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“What?”

“He has a girlfriend!” you said a little louder to be heard over the music, just as Taehyung sidled up at the bar a few feet from your group of three.

“I have a what?” Taehyung said, grinning and raising an eyebrow at you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

You raised your drink. “Celebrating the end of the week, you?”

“Same,” he replied, turning to give the bartender his order before focusing back on you. “I thought you were a freshman?”

You laughed. “So did Jimin, it’s okay. I’m a junior.” You flashed him your ID, “See?”

“Good to know,” he nodded. “Let’s keep this meeting under wraps, okay? TA’s wanna have a little fun sometimes, too, you know?”

“Of course.” Sana and Jihyo nodded with you. “Speaking of him,” you cleared your throat slightly, “Is he here?”

“Who? Jimin?” Taehyung asked, just as the bartender sat down three drinks in front of him. “Nah, he cancelled. Said he was gonna take a walk instead, or something like that.”

“At this time of night?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung shrugged. “He’s a weird guy, don’t ask.”

You nodded and laughed, but you really wanted to pout. Your mind drifted to the possibility of what Jimin would have worn—a tight-fitting button-up with his thighs flexing in black jeans and his boots—and the thought alone had your tongue darting out to lick your dry lips.

“Oh,” Sana dumped you back into reality with a hard elbow to the ribs. “These are my roommates, Sana and Jihyo.”

“Taehyung,” he said, flashing them a charming smile as he gathered up his drinks. “Well, I’ll be off now. You ladies have a good night, okay? Don’t tell anyone you saw us here, and I’ll tell Jimin to give you an A.” He winked at you before rushing back to his table, where DK and Minhyuk were yelling about how long it was taking.

“He is so damn cute,” Sana commented, watching his back for a few more seconds before she turned around, slurping down the last of her margarita through her straw. She sat the glass back on the counter, sliding off the bar stool and straightening her skirt. “But it’s time for my Plan B, I’ll see you guys later.”

“We’re getting separate Ubers back home if you get too lit!” Jihyo yelled at her back as she walked off, only getting a suggestive wink from Sana in return before she disappeared into the crowd.

Jihyo left you not long after, and you ended up in your usual spot—in a booth in the back corner, sipping your third drink, playing on your phone. You weren’t in the mood to dance tonight. You honestly weren’t in the mood to do anything. What annoyed you the most was that you felt that your sour mood had something to do with you being slightly pouty over Jimin not showing.

You’d only been in his class two days, but you were already interested in him as a person. You wanted to know more about his hobbies, if he took walks at night often, what he did in his spare time—and mostly, you wanted to know about his poetry. You wondered what his writing notebooks looked like–were they mostly filled up with scribbles of random inspiration? Or did they contain neat, hand-written pages filled with his intimate thoughts and feelings? You wondered if he wrote haikus or free-verse, or if his poems were ekphrastic or narrative or sonnets.

Your mind wandered the whole weekend back to him—when you were doing laundry Friday afternoon, when you, Sana and Jihyo sat down to watch a movie on Saturday night, when you were eating breakfast at the dining hall on Monday—and it made you as antsy as ever to see him Tuesday in the lecture hall.

You grabbed a coffee from the café on campus before heading to class on Tuesday morning, your casual walk a complete opposite from the last Tuesday you’d headed towards the building in a sweaty, rushing mess. You had a draft of your poem stashed in a folder in your book bag, a few good lines you’d thought of over the weekend randomly and jotted down before you forgot. You hoped that lecture would give you a better idea of what to write about, since the guest speaker was a poetry writer from the department.

When you walked into the lecture hall you spotted Jimin immediately. He was standing in the middle of the left side of chairs, and he beckoned you over with a smile and a wave that had your stomach flip-flopping.

“All the TA’s are sitting with their students, so this is our section.” He gestured at the three rows behind him. You dropped your stuff to the ground immediately, settling into a chair and taking a sip of coffee. “Is that a caramel macchiato?” he asked, and you almost choked at how fast you swallowed so you could answer him.

“Yeah, extra drizzle,” you grinned through watery eyes, shaking the cup at him.

“That’s my favorite, they’re the best!”

You took mental note of this, grinning to yourself a little as more of your classmates filed in, the auditorium getting louder in volume as people started talking to their friends.

The guest speaker ended up being boring, and you found your mind drifting to other things as he droned on in the background about the importance of keeping a writing journal. You started thinking back to your poem, how you’d began writing about hands and all the things you thought about when you saw them, but you’d gotten nowhere. The assignment was a little harder than you thought it was to begin with, and you found yourself in your room staring a blank document for over half an hour before you shut your laptop down, joining your noisy roommates in the living room.

When you came back to, the guest speaker was just finishing up—you’d zoned out for the entire thirty minutes he was talking. Jimin stood up, holding up his hands to the few people in your class that were already on their feet, slinging their book bags onto their shoulders eagerly.

“Since lecture ended early today, I just wanted to take this time to see if anyone has any last minute questions about the prompt since your piece is due at the beginning of the next class.”

The rest of the auditorium filed out quickly, leaving only the TA’s and a few of their students behind. Joy, the girl sitting next to you, raised her hand to speak.

“I was wondering if we could include the body part in our piece somehow? I’m having a hard time not being obvious about what I’m talking about.”

“Ah, I see.” Jimin nodded his head. “What’s your part?”

“Eyes.”

“Okay, and do you have anything written?”

“I have a little,” Joy said sheepishly, smiling to cover up her embarrassment. “Truthfully, I haven’t gotten very far.”

“I’ve realized a lot of you are thinking too hard about this. Think about a person that you’ve seen before–it could be your current boyfriend or girlfriend, or a past one, it could be a person you had a crush on, or just someone who intrigues you–” You could have sworn you saw Jimin’s eyes flicker to yours at the comment, but it was too brief to be sure. “– there has to be something captivating about them, right? Think about that moment. Then picture all the beautiful things in nature you’ve seen with your own two eyes. Now compare the two. Don’t think too hard, and if you need to mention your body part a little in the poem, don’t worry about it. Do it. Do whatever you want. Poetry shouldn’t be forced.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. As a few more people raised their hands with questions, your mind was already racing. You pulled your printed out draft and grabbed a pen, quickly scribbling down the words that came to mind:

On the petals of a morning lily,

Your thoughts tumble over like dew,

Dripping honey into my ears.

The silky sweet sound of your voice

Pulls me in until I, too, am resting on the same petals

That attract bees and butterflies alike.

Do they feel your enticing powers like I do?

You stopped for a moment and read over it. It was a little choppy and needed some better wording, but it was definitely good for a start. It was a shock that what was on the paper had just come out of your brain a few seconds ago, but what was even more troubling to you was that the whole time you had been writing, you pictured one person and one person only.

“Y/N, it looks like inspiration just struck you,” Jimin said, coming over to plop into the chair beside you, a smile gracing his delicate features. You laughed slightly, moving to cover up your paper with your hand when Jimin stopped you. “I have to grade this, remember? I’m gonna read it one way or another.”

“I’ll let you read it when I’m finished,” you insisted stubbornly, snatching the paper and holding it at arm’s length away from you. Jimin giggled, the sound tinkling in your ears and making your stomach flip flop.

“Fine, okay. You win.”

You noticed that it was only you and Joy left from class now, and she was two rows behind you with her eyes focused on her laptop screen. Jimin’s proximity to you was suddenly all you could think about and your eyes zoned in on his knee that was just barely brushing against your own.

“Sorry,” he apologized, moving away from you and settling back into his chair. “Do you have any questions about the prompt for me?”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of how my poem will go. I just wrote a really good intro that needs some editing, but I think it will do.”

“That’s great.” Jimin smiled again and then his expression turned apologetic, as did his tone. “Now, I’ve got some bad news.”

Your brow furrowed, and your chest suddenly felt heavy with anticipation. “What is it?”

“A bunch of people dropped out of Taehyung’s class, so he only has about four students now. Since our classrooms are close to each other, I told him I would give him two of my students, and Youngjae is going to give him one of his so he can still have a decent-sized class. So…I’m offering you and Joy.”

You blinked. “I’m gonna be in Taehyung’s class now?”

“Yeah…” Jimin scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I’m sorry, I know this is really annoying to ask of you, but—“

“Wait, why me?” You could actually hear how crestfallen your voice sounded, but you couldn’t help it.

“Oh, because I promised Taehyung good students.” He grinned again, as if that was going to make up for the fact that he was crushing your dreams in front of your face—even though he didn’t know it. “But you can still come to me for class on Thursday, and then the following Tuesday Taehyung will officially be your TA. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I guess,” you said, avoiding his eyes. You began packing up, trying hard not to show on your face how much this was bothering you. Why did Jimin have to pick you to move to Taehyung’s class? There were plenty of other “good” students to choose from. You were sure of it.

“Great. See you on Thursday, Y/N. Have a good day!” He stood up and went over to talk to Joy, leaning close to her like he’d just done you, lowering his voice to ask her did she want to move classes, flashing her the same toothy grin as he did to you. You swung your book bag onto your back, pressing your lips into a harsh line as you trudged out of the auditorium and towards your apartment.

“Aw it’s okay, Y/N. Having a hot TA was too good to be true anyways,” Jihyo said, patting your back sadly. “It’s not like you were gonna bone him or anything.”

Sana stopped digging into her food to hold a finger up at the two of you. “Um? You still have Taehyung. He’s almost as hot as they come.”

“You haven’t even seen Jimin in comparison!”

“Doesn’t matter. Hey, you wanted to bone him?”

“No! I never said anything about that!”

“So you just talk about hot guys with no intentions of wanting them? Y/N, be realistic.”

“I am being realistic! He’s my fucking TA!”

“Show me the rules that say you can’t bone your TA.”

“Oh my god. I am not having this conversation with you two,” you snapped, getting off of the couch to go into your room and shut the door. You flopped onto your bed, huffing out a breath of air into the fluffy gray blanket beneath you. You had more things to worry about than getting moved out of a class into another one—such as the chapters of psychology that were waiting to be read before class tomorrow—so you pulled out your book and got to work on those so you could feel like you were doing something productive.

The next few days passed by slowly but nothing could stop Thursday from coming. You finished your poem the night before around one in the morning, after playing around with the wording countless times before you finally settled on something that satisfied you. You printed it off and showed up to class two minutes late, walking in just as Jimin was checking off people’s names on the attendance sheet.

“Everyone take out your pieces and pass them down. I’ll spare you this time and we won’t read them aloud, but for the rest of the semester, be prepared to share the things you write with your classmates. “

Jimin was dressed head to toe in black today, though if it were possible, his hair seemed to be even darker in color than the v-neck he wore. It glowed with a slight blue tint under the florescent lights, settling perfectly back into place each time he ran his hand through the raven strands. You swallowed harshly again as he pushed his chair back, making you notice the material of his jeans stretching as his thigh muscles flexed.

You pinched yourself underneath the table as he reached for a marker in the drawer of his desk. You desperately needed to get a grip on your hormones.

Jimin asked the class for all the kinds of poetry they knew and wrote down everyone’s responses on the board as people began shouting them out. He talked a little about how some forms worked better for certain poetry content, and how the “look” of your poem could also affect the way people read them.

“Has anyone ever read an E.E. Cummings poem? His form was all over the place, but it was for a reason. It keeps readers intrigued, and makes them work for what he’s trying to convey. Don’t make everything easy. Think out of the box.”

Class came to an end much too quickly for your liking. You tucked your notebook back into your bag, pulling out your headphones for the walk back to your apartment when Jimin stopped you. “Hey Y/N, can you hang back for a second?”

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded, sitting back into your chair.

Jimin waited until the class cleared out before speaking. “I just wanted to say I was sorry for yesterday…you seemed a little upset with me for asking you to change classes.”

You shook your head immediately, already feeling embarrassed at how easily your expression had obviously given you away. “No, no! Really, it’s okay. I was just caught off guard.”

“You don’t have to go, you know? I can ask one of the other students—“

“No, really. It’s fine. I promise.” You gave him your most convincing smile, not wanting to let him down. If Jimin wanted to move you and thought that was best, well, you were going to act like you thought it was, too.

“Are you sure?” he asked, searching your face for any tell-tale signs that you were lying. “Okay, then. It was great to have you for the little time that I did.” He laughed slightly, but this time instead of filling you with warmth it only made your stomach hurt. “I’m always here if you need anything. Taehyung is starting out with poetry as well, but his concentration is nonfiction, so if you ever want my opinion on something feel free to stop by. You know what my office hours are, right?”

You nodded once.

“Great. I mean it. Really, anytime. I’d be happy to talk about poems with you…I’ve already kind of looked at yours and it’s fantastic.”

Your eyebrows shot up on your forehead. “Really? Oh my god, thank you! I was really worried about it.”

“I’m not sure why,” he tilted his head at you, and you watched as his bangs slid across his forehead. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and smooth them back, feel the strands slip through your fingers, watch as they sprung back into place—“It’s great. Poetry might be your thing, Y/N…we’d love to have some more people concentrate in poetry in the department. If you keep doing well, I would highly suggest considering it.”

“Wow,” you could feel your face heating up from the praise. “Thank you so much, I appreciate it. And I’m not upset about being in Taehyung’s class, I promise.”

How could you be upset when Jimin was complimenting you so well? Your bones felt like they were on fire—as well as your face.

“No problem. Have a good day Y/N, I’ll see you around.”

It turned out that you didn’t see Jimin around. At all.

The following week, you went into lecture only to find out that Taehyung’s class sat on the opposite side of room from Jimin’s, and you were too busy taking frantic notes on ekphrastic poems that you couldn’t be bothered to look over at him.

Taehyung’s classroom vibe was a lot different than Jimin’s, as well. He was as energetic and friendly as he’d been the night you saw him at the bar, and it made you even more intimidated to talk to him about your work—inside and outside of the classroom. There was something about Jimin’s soft-spoken personality that made it easier, while the fact that Taehyung’s boldness made you not want to say anything at all.

When you were stuck on an assignment, you toughed it out and turned in whatever you could, taking the consequences as you received a few unsatisfactory grades. You knew you were being somewhat pouty about the whole situation but you didn’t know what else to do. You felt stupid asking Jimin for help—if you were as great as he said you were then why were you getting stuck all the time?

Every Thursday when you walked out of Taehyung’s class, you could hear Jimin bidding everyone goodbye in his own classroom, just a few doors down. You could hear the tinkling of his laughter floating down the hallway sometimes, and it irked you that you weren’t there to see his head thrown back in joy, his mouth open and his eyes nearly shut, the genuinely happy noises floating from his mouth.

You saw Taehyung and Minhyuk a few more times while downtown with your roommates but much to your disappointment, Jimin was never with them. It seemed he was always so close but so far away. Now that he wasn’t your TA, you had absolutely no reason to talk to him or see him, and you hated how much it bothered you that you didn’t. When you were in his class, there was little to no contact with him, so why did you feel so empty now that he wasn’t around? You knew you were way too into him but you couldn’t help it. Your middle-school crush had developed into full-blown infatuation over the course of a few weeks. The saying “absence makes the heart grow fond,” had never meant more to you, and you hated it. Absolutely hated it.

You were grateful as time went on that your workload was there to distract you. You turned in “mini-assignments”—as Taehyung liked to call them—which were small, less-than-one-page prompts that were due twice a week. You fell into the routine of doing them the night before since they weren’t that hard or important, and they normally took you about thirty minutes to complete.

You opened your computer on Wednesday night, signing into it and watching as your background of you, Sana and Jihyo popped up. You were completely shitfaced, sitting on the ground behind Sana and Jihyo as they posed cheekily for the photo they’d convinced a passerby to take. All it took was a bat of Sana’s eyelashes and he was taking the phone out of her hand, backing up a few paces to take the photo.

“Y/N, stand up! Hurry up, this guy is gonna take the picture!” Jihyo had yelled at you, slinging her arm around Sana’s neck and pulling her close.

“No! I want to go home,” you’d slurred. You remembered drinking on an empty stomach that night like an idiot, ruining yours and your roommate’s time. When you talked about the incident now it was funny, but they were so angry at you for making them leave the club early when it happened. “You guys, I think I’m gonna puke.”

“Wait until after the picture. Are you ready, dude? Okay, 1, 2, 3, cheese!”

The flash popped in the darkness, and Sana and Jihyo came out great, leaning with their arms wrapped around each other, eyes closed as they put on their best toothy, drunk smile. You were sitting behind them, a pout on your face and your arms crossed like a small child. The photo reminded you of your relationship with them at times, and so it became your favorite.

You opened a word document, putting your name, date and Taehyung’s name at the top before you spaced down to where the title was supposed to be. The prompt was to imagine yourself as a character in a novel and write about something that you really wanted. It needed to be a recent want, and that was all the information Taehyung had given the class, making the prompt very vague and open-ended—which wasn’t his style at all.

You found yourself thinking over it earlier in the day, and you decided to write about what you normally wrote about: Jimin. Though you hadn’t seen him in weeks, his appearance was ingrained in your brain tissue, and you found yourself using him as your muse for many pieces after switching to Taehyung’s class.

You wrote out a makeshift title, smiling a little at your own wit as you typed at the top of the document:

What I Want: A Man [Park Jimin], To Sweep Me Off My Feet

You wrote a few paragraphs, explaining in detail all the things about Jimin that made you weak in the knees as if you were both characters in a story, as if it was all make believe. You made sure to mention your dream guy’s “muscular frame” and “knife-like jawline” that were attractive features on him, as well as his perfect blue-black hair and dark combat boots that were ultra-stylish and seemed straight out of a fashion magazine.

Just as you were finishing up a knock came at your door, seconds before Jihyo opened it and stuck her head in. “Should we start the movie without you?”

“No, no, I’m almost finished, let me just send this in.”

You pulled up your email, quickly typing in Taehyung’s email address and attaching your document to it. You pressed send, closing your laptop lid and grabbing your blanket as you followed Jihyo into the living room, sinking into your favorite bean bag in front of the couch.

“I wanna watch Transformers,” Sana grinned, already perched on the couch with the DVD player remote in her hand. “Any objections? Okay, great, I’m pressing play!”

“Thanks for the ample time to object,” Jihyo grumbled.

“Shh, it’s starting!”

The next day, you walked into Taehyung’s class with five minutes to spare. You sat in your seat, sipping on the hot chai tea you’d just gotten at the campus coffee shop before heading to the creative writing building. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through social media quickly before class started.

Taehyung walked in right after you, putting down his stuff and keeping his back to the class as he searched for something in his folders. With a paper in his hand, he walked over to you, crouching beside your desk and speaking in a hushed voice, “Y/N, let’s talk after class, okay?”

Your eyebrows furrowed immediately, your stomach twisting with worry at his tone. “Okay. Did I do something wrong?”

Taehyung’s expression looked like he was holding back a laugh, and you wondered what could possibly be funny when he sounded like he was scolding you. “It’s about…do you remember what you sent in for the piece due today? We need to talk about it.”

“About what I want? I wrote about—“ The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Jimin. “Oh my god, the title! Taehyung I-I’m so sorry oh my god, p-please—“

“Y/N,” he shushed you, his eyes darting around to the other students that were piling in.  “Relax, I just need to be a teacher about it, is all. Don’t worry, just talk to me after class, okay?”

You nodded and he left, leaving you with a cold sweat washing over your face at your own stupidity. You couldn’t believe that you’d fucked up so royally—how could you have forgotten to change the title before sending the email? You were going to kill Sana and Jihyo. This was obviously all their fault—if they didn’t rush you all the time when it came to school work, you wouldn’t forget to do important things, like taking your fucking ex-TA’s name off of your document before sending it in.

You sat through the rest of class mortified, the flushed feeling of your embarrassment settling on your face and neck and seeming to make home there. The clock ticked dangerously slow as Taehyung talked, as if it was enjoying you stewing in your own pile of sweat, taunting you until it was time for him to sit down and talk with you about your mistake. It made it even worse that he and Jimin were best friends.

Finally, class ended, and you sat completely immobile in your seat, unsure of how the next few minutes were about to go. Taehyung grabbed the hard copy he’d printed from his email and pulled out the chair next to you, sitting down and lacing his fingers together on the tabletop.

“Now, Y/N we both know what this title, and this piece, withhold.” Taehyung’s eyes bored into yours the whole time he spoke, and you tried to match it with respect, but you couldn’t. Yours flicked down to the table the instant he began lecturing you. “I don’t know if this was a joke that someone played on you—“

God, I wish.

“—or if you intended to do this—“

Your gaze snapped up to his instantly. You shook your head furiously, your eyes growing wide with fear.

“—Or if this was just completely a mistake. For now, I’m going to go with the latter, and dismiss this matter as that. But you cannot make mistakes like this ever again, if it were to get into the wrong hands, it would be detrimental for you, as a student, and for Jimin as a TA. Do you understand?”

You swallowed harshly and nodded, lowering your gaze again. “I’m sorry. It really won’t happen again, I promise, Taehyung.”

“Good,” he replied, staring into your eyes for a second longer to made his point clear before he groaned outwardly, flopping back into his seat. “God, that was hard. I hate having to be all teacher-y. Now, I can go back to being your friend…dude, do you like Jimin?”

Your jaw went slack at his professional demeanor turning off like the switch of a light. You were frozen for a few moments before you were able to respond, “What? No? This was—“

“Some serious shit,” Taehyung laughed, tapping his finger harshly on the paper. “Y/N, you totally have it in for him, don’t you?”

“N-no, I don’t, I just..maybe I think he’s pretty good-looking, but that’s it, I mean—“ you sputtered out, shaking your head. “I can’t talk about this, can I go now?”

Taehyung snatched your wrist up as you tried to get out of your chair, forcing you to sit back down. “Wait, hey, I’m not gonna say anything…unless you want me to?”

“NO!” you yelled, a little too loudly and Taehyung jumped at the volume of your voice raising so suddenly.

“Okay, Jesus, don’t scream. We’re the only two in here. I don’t need one of the police officers taking me home because it sounds like I’m trying to force you into an after-class rendezvous.”

“Sorry,” you whispered, stifling a giggle as his eyebrows slowly returned to their normal place on his forehead.

“So…” he said, tilting his head in question.

“So.”

“Do you?”

You shrugged, picking at the table top. Was this even okay to talk to him about? Your heart was beating a mile a minute at being given the opportunity to express your feelings for Park Jimin, but you swallowed it down with the rest of the words that threatening to explode from your mouth.

Taehyung tsk-ed at your response, leaning back in his chair. “Come on, Y/N. You’ve kept my secret about the club, I can keep this one.”

You sighed, tucking your hair behind your ears nervously. You ducked your head as you talked, as if that would make you feel any less guilty for what you were about to say.

“Okay…so, maybe…I think he’s kind of…interesting.”

“Awwwww,” Taehyung cooed, grinning at you visibly turning into a mushy, embarrassed mess in front of him. “That’s so cute. Jimin’s a cool guy, I see the attraction.”

“Can I go now?”

“Sure,” Taehyung said. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He held his pinky out to you, looking at you expectantly.

You stared blankly for a few seconds before he wiggled it, pointing at your hand to connect to his. “Oh! Sorry. Thanks again, Taehyung.”

“No problem, Y/N.”

You grabbed your book bag to leave but Taehyung had you stopping in your tracks with his next words, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, and Y/N? Friend to friend—If I were trying to get Jimin to notice me? You know, if I was a girl with a crush on him? I’d start with something like…buying him a coffee. He likes the small gestures.”

Your eyes grew wide at the statement. Taehyung was basically telling you to go for it. You nodded quickly, thanking him again before you set off down the hallway, throwing glances over your shoulder at Jimin’s open doorway just a few feet away.

You decided against telling Sana and Jihyo about your mistake and your meeting after class with Taehyung. You didn’t want them to tease you about it—or better yet, pester you with questions about what you were going to do with Taehyung’s advice. You didn’t know what you were going to do yet, but you had all weekend to decide.

You distracted yourself for as long as you could with the multiple outings that Sana and Jihyo had planned for the weekend. On Friday your trio went to the KGB (Taehyung was absent, which you were thankful for), Saturday was dress shopping and then a house party off campus for a club that Sana was in, and Sunday you spent the day in the library trying to get through all of your homework in one sitting because you’d wasted all your opportunities during the weekend to do so.

By Monday afternoon, you’d decided on your plan of action. That Thursday after class, you would run to the café near the creative writing building and grab a coffee for you and Jimin, then ask him for help on the prompt that Taehyung had emailed out over the weekend. It would be just a casual meeting about writing, and there was nothing wrong with that, right? You were just thrilled that you had an actual excuse to see and talk to Jimin again.

On Tuesday during lecture, Taehyung chose to sit behind you, solely so that before class he could lean up and whisper, “Did you take my advice yet?”

You kept your sights forward on the lecturer at the front of the auditorium, acting as if you hadn’t heard him. Taehyung’s muffled laughter told you your silence was all the answers he needed, though. You found yourself glancing at Jimin’s side of the room every once in awhile, but he was never looking at you, always whispering with one of his students or paying attention to the person standing at the podium.

When Thursday came around you were a nervous wreck all throughout class. Taehyung noticed this as well, because he kept raising his eyebrows at you as he caught you drumming your nails on the table, biting your lip, and sighing heavily multiple times throughout lecture.

“Y/N, you’re making me nervous,” he complained after dismissing class, his voice lower than usual, meaning he was about to ask you about Jimin. “Are you gonna do it today?”

You nodded quickly, bidding him goodbye as your grabbed your book bag from beside your legs on the floor, speed walking out of class and across the big lawn that separated your building from the coffee shop. You quickly ordered two caramel macchiatos with extra drizzle and then walked back as quickly as your flat-bottomed shoes would take you. You knew Jimin’s office hours were after class at 12:15, but it still worried you sick that you would somehow miss him.

It didn’t occur to you, however, that there would be another student conferencing with him by the time you made it back to the building. You crept up beside his door, listening to his low voice as he began explaining techniques on character description to the girl. She had way too many questions for you to deal with the sweaty drinks in your hand thanks to the scorching heat outside, so you sat them down on the floor along with your things, sinking down to the cold tiles beside them.

Your courage slowly leaked out of your pores as minutes passed, replaced by a trodden down, beaten-down, feeling that you were starting to get about the whole situation. Taehyung took that moment to stick his head out of his door frame, catching your attention immediately as he raised an eyebrow at you. “Why are you sitting on the floor? Go in!” he whisper-yelled, shooing you with his hands to take action.

“There’s someone in there!” you said back, putting a finger to your lips as you heard them finishing up. Taehyung ducked back into his classroom quickly just as the girl walked out, looking down in surprise at you.

“Oh my god, you scared me,” she said, placing a hand over her heart. You recognized her from Jimin’s class, and now you understood why she was there. She always had questions to ask.

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly. You stood up, gathering your things and your two drinks in your hands. She was still standing there, eyeing you as you did so, a question poised on the tip of her tongue.

“Were you coming in to talk to Jimin?”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered. “I just needed to ask him a question about something—“

“What are the two drinks for?”

“Um,” you searched quickly for a lie. “They accidentally made two, so they just gave me both of them. Yay…caffeine?”

Jimin walked out of his classroom then, saving you from the incredibly awkward conversation that was unfolding. “Y/N, you needed to see me?”

“I did, yeah. Bye, Somi.” You waved with the drink in your hand before turning your back on her, following Jimin back into the classroom. He took a seat at the head of the table where he normally sat for class, and you sat in your old seat beside him. A new wave of nervousness washed over you as you realized you were finally there—finally talking to Jimin alone after so much time. He was wearing a light blue button down today, paired with his normal black ensemble from waist to toe. His hair hung messily on his forehead, and his shoes clicked on the ground as he tapped his toes on the linoleum, his normal boots traded out for a pair of dark dress shoes.

You put the drinks down, sliding one towards him sheepishly. “I uh, got one for you. I hope that’s okay. I remembered what you said about it being your favorite so…”

“Yay, caffeine,” Jimin said, pulling the drink towards him with a playful glint in his tone mocking what you’d said to Somi just moments earlier.

You laughed. “Oh, you heard that?”

“Yeah…you’re an amazing liar, has anyone ever told you that?”

“I may have heard it once or twice…”

Your stomach flip-flopped excitedly at the giggle that Jimin let out at your answer. He then put the drink to his mouth, his lips enveloping the green straw briefly as he sucked. You swallowed harshly at the sight of his tongue darting out to lick his lip afterwards and you averted your eyes quickly again, pressing your thighs together under the table.

“So,” he drank again and swallowed. “What did you need to talk to me about? How’s Taehyung’s class?”

“It’s fine, Taehyung is great. He’s very…”

“Energetic?” Jimin finished, and you nodded your head in agreement. “Yeah, he gets that a lot.”

You dug through your book bag and pulled out your folder with the printed out prompt and handed it to Jimin, along with a rough draft of what you’d worked on Sunday at the library.

You cleared your throat nervously. “So you said I could come to you about writing, and I was kind of hoping you could give me some advice.”

“Shoot.”

“What do you do to get over writer’s block?” you asked, looking him square in the face for what felt like the first time since you came in. “Or, should I say poet’s block?”

Jimin broke out into a wide grin. “Ah, the dreaded question. Writer’s block is different for everyone—is it that you have ideas and you don’t know how to write them? Or you don’t have anything to write about at all?”

You took a sip of your own drink, thinking for a moment. You were suddenly much more relaxed than you were when you were sitting outside—it seemed that Jimin just had that effect on you. “I have ideas, but I’m not sure how to put them on paper. I tend to write things, then erase it. Write, erase. Write, erase. It’s a horrible cycle.”

“I see.” Jimin clicked his tongue a few times, eyes grazing over the prompt and your very-rough, rough draft. “Honestly, when I get writer’s block, I have to get away from my desk. I shutdown my computer, I push my chair back, I put on my shoes and I take a walk.”

“Oh, Taehyung told me once that you do that,” you commented, nodding your head. “He said you’re quote, ‘A weird guy’, unquote.”

Jimin just laughed at this, shaking his head. “I’m sure he did. But walking really helps me…I don’t know why. It always has. It’s like it clears my head to be outside, and I guess that’s why I like it so much. It’s calming, especially at night. I feel…at peace, you know?”

You nodded, because you actually did know what he meant. Your freshman year of university you had really bad anxiety due to being thrown into the world of college with no preparation. Being away from home and your old friends in addition to the overwhelming workload and responsibility that university calls for made you feel pressured and unsure of yourself. One day during Pre-Calc you found yourself trembling while taking notes, and you were out the door and into the hallway in seconds, breathing heavily with your heart pounding in your chest just as the first wave of nausea hit you.

You found that for some reason, exercise helped. You started running on the trails around campus, and inhaling the fresh air gave you a sense of relief. Unlike during the panic attacks, you liked that while running you had complete control over your breathing, feeling with each inhale as your lungs filled with the cool air outside.

“Yeah…I do. I used to run, so being outside helps me de-stress, too. I don’t know why I didn’t think about that before. Thanks, Jimin.” You grinned at him and he reciprocated it, but his eyes seemed to focus elsewhere for a moment as if he were deep in thought. “What is it?”

“Where do you normally run?” he asked.

“Oh, I used to on the trails around campus…the one that wraps around the lake then goes back into the woods for a mile or two. Do you know that one?”

“I do,” Jimin sipped his drink again, giving himself time to think. He looked up at you from under his lashes, making you take in a small breath. When he spoke, his voice was lowered and soft, as if he were afraid of what he was going to say. “Do you…I mean, you could…walk with me, sometime. If you wanted to.”

The way your face must have looked at his offer made Jimin backtrack immediately. “Sorry, that’s so bold of me to offer, I didn’t mean to–”

“I’d love to,” you responded, finally regaining your ability to talk. “That would be great.”

Jimin breathed out a sigh of relief, giving you a smile that squeezed your heart. “Okay, good. If anyone…sees us together, we can just say we happened to meet on the trail…okay?”

He gave you another pointed look, hoping you understood. You nodded slowly, your brain still trying to process exactly what he was saying.

“You mean…”

“Lie.”

It came out almost as a whisper, but Jimin’s gaze never wavered from yours. You made sure to keep your expression neutral, your slow nod turning into a very quick one, and Jimin smiled, his eyes disappearing from the force of it. “Great. Did you have anything else you wanted to ask me?”

A thousand questions went through your mind. Most importantly, ones about why he would be asking you to lie and keep secrets. You couldn’t wrap your head around it but you shook your head anyways, starting to gather your things up. You were sure that by the time you left his classroom you were going to be a bobble head.

“Thank you for the advice, I’ll see you–”

“Saturday night,” he interjected. “Around seven, is that okay?”

“Saturday night,” you repeated, still in a daze. This had to be a dream. You had a date with your TA. Your ex-TA. Your extremely fucking hot TA.

“Come find me.”

The way he said the words, his voice a low timbre and his eyes half-lidded, made a shiver run down your spine. You headed for the door as Jimin said goodbye.

“Thanks for the coffee, by the way!”

You went through the next day and a half completely disoriented. You refrained from telling Sana and Jihyo again, most because you didn’t even know where to start. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of meeting Jimin alone because it wasn’t a big deal yet.

That was a lie. It was a big deal. An extremely huge, gigantic, monumental big deal.

You felt like you were doing something extremely wrong, but you couldn’t help the excitement that flowed through your veins every time you thought about Saturday night.

Thursday night you skipped out on going downtown because you didn’t want to risk the chance of seeing Taehyung and have him ask you questions. You knew he would just corner you on Tuesday anyways, but that gave you ample time to wrap your head around everything. You blamed it on needing to catch up on reading for psychology so Sana and Jihyo left you alone, but you could tell they were still suspicious of your behavior. You made up for it by taking them out on Saturday afternoon for brunch at a crepe place near campus. You listened while they chattered on about their normal topic (boys) around mouthfuls of the sweet, thin pancakes and tried to act normal but your stomach was clenched tight the whole time, only thinking of Jimin.

When the time came to meet him on the trail, you changed out of your lazy clothes and put on a light cardigan and jeans, trying to combat the chill that had settled over campus in the last few weeks. Winter was approaching slowly but surely, and you were thankful for the extra layer as you walked, feeling the cold trying hard to seep through the fabric and brush itself against your arms.

There weren’t many people out around campus on a Saturday night—most were pre-gaming for their outings later or eating dinner— which you supposed you should be thankful for. Jimin must have been thinking about that when he asked you, and it made you wonder just how much though he’d put into meeting you before he’d mentioned it.

This time you didn’t have to lie to Sana and Jihyo as they were off doing their own things. Sana was meeting some people from her club for dinner, and Jihyo was asleep in her room, fueling up for the plans she had to go downtown later. This allowed you to slip seamlessly out of the door without any questions, looks or raised eyebrows from them—which you had been getting a lot lately.

You felt the familiar sense of calm overcome you as you followed the trail around the lake, breathing in the cool air and letting it fill your lungs. You did this a few more times as you walked, hoping somehow it would also calm you down, but that was to no avail. As soon as you saw Jimin’s unmistakable outline sitting on a bench in front of the water your adrenaline kicked in again, your skin itchy with anxiety at approaching him.

You saw him before he saw you, so you called out to him, watching as he looked over with a glorious smile already plastered on his face. He was lit up with the rays from the sunset, showering his light t-shirt in a warm haze and making the lighter brown flecks in his eyes twinkle when he looked up at you.

You stood awkwardly beside the bench, unsure of what to do. Jimin noticed, so he scrambled to his feet, smiling sheepishly. “Should we walk?”

You nodded and he led the way, following the path around the lake that lead into the woods. You tried not to think too hard about the fact that this most likely meant that you two would be alone, and instead focused on acting as calm, cool and collected as Jimin seemed.

There was a few beats of awkward silence, and you watched from the corner of your eyes as Jimin stuffed his hands in his pockets, blowing out a small breath before he asked, “Do you still feel the same about being a creative writing major? Now that you have some grades back, do you think you can handle it?”

You pursed your lips. “It’s definitely fun…but also a little difficult at times, but I guess that’s with any major. I’ll decide at the end of the semester, but for now I’m still unsure.”

“I see,” Jimin nodded. “Well if it’s any help towards your decision, I think your stuff is brilliant. You have a lot of talent, Y/N.”

You were glad the shade of the trees that lined both sides of the trail casted shadows on your face, successfully covering up the flush that spread over your cheeks at the compliment. “Wait, I thought you only read one of my pieces? The poem at the beginning of the semester?”

Jimin grinned sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck as he flashed you a smile. You noticed the sleeve came down over his hands, the over-sized t-shirt just grazing his knuckles. “Well…sometimes Taehyung lets me peek at the really good ones…”

“Really? Come on!” you groaned. “That’s so unfair. TA’s shouldn’t be friends with each other. It’s embarrassing enough to have to read my work aloud and my peers tell me what I did wrong—now you and Taehyung are conferencing behind my back?”

Jimin laughed a glorious, genuine laugh, throwing his head back. You peeked at him, watching as the strands fell perfectly back into place as soon as he tilted his head forward, glancing over at you. “If anything, Taehyung is jealous, not criticizing. He can’t write a poem to save his life.”

“Not even a haiku?”

“He complained the syllable limit inhibited his creative ability.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like Taehyung.”

You two were reaching the middle of the trail now, at the point that was furthest back in the woods. Only the occasional bike or rollerblader was passing you, mostly older men and women that used the school’s trail for exercise. The sun had finally set, the sky a purplish-blue hue that meant that it would be dark within the next hour.

As you neared a picnic bench that was off to the side of the trail, Jimin suggested that you two take a break. You watched as he placed a foot on the seat, hoisting himself up on the table and laying down, placing his hands behind his head for support. There was an opening in the trees that allowed for a perfect view of the sky above the picnic table, allowing him to see the changing colors as day turned to dusk.

“Why do I feel as though you know this place really well?” you raised a playful eyebrow at him.

“Because I do,” he grinned. “Come watch with me. It’s civil twilight.”

You tentatively walked up to the bench, choosing to sit on the actual seat instead of joining Jimin in laying down. You wanted to make sure you weren’t crossing any boundaries, no matter how nice Jimin was being to you.

“What’s civil twilight?”

The proximity of your face to Jimin’s body was overwhelming—you could smell a mixture of fresh scents coming off of his clothes: something clean and soft, in addition to something spicy, like his cologne was mixing with detergent to concoct his own special amortentia potion for you.

“It’s when the sun dips less than six degrees below the horizon—only the brightest stars in the sky can be seen at this time.” He pointed up, to where the Northern star twinkled in the middle of the sky, like he’d planned it to be there to accentuate his point. “There’s also nautical twilight and astronomical twilight…each one occurs the lower the sun gets. Lots of cities use these times of day to dictate laws on hunting and street lamp usage…it’s funny how the earth influences even the simplest of things in our life, isn’t it?”

You listened while he went on, explaining to you about the different celestial bodies that were visible with the naked eye throughout the different phases of twilight. You were completely shocked by Jimin’s knowledge of the sky, and even though you were clueless, you listened earnestly, falling in love with the way he sounded when he was talking about a topic that meant a lot to him.

There was something that was intriguing about his voice—the way his looks were so sharp and put together, almost perfect—but when speaking he tended to pause, searching for the right wording before he said it as if he didn’t want even the slightest variation to change the way his sentence was taken. You found yourself focusing solely on the way his lips moved, the plump top one brushing against the bottom with each enunciation, and the way that when he paused, his tongue would slip out to wet them before he continued.

“Sorry, am I sounding too teacher-y right now? I didn’t mean to bore you.” He rolled over on his side, propping himself up with his elbow. This made the proximity of your faces come closer together and you craned your neck back a little, nonchalantly placing a hand on the bench beside you and leaning on it. What you really wanted more than anything was to lean forward, but you scolded yourself for even thinking about it. Why were you so greedy? Why couldn’t you just be happy that Jimin had even invited you out?

“No, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “You’re not boring me at all, I promise.” You placed a hand over your heart for emphasis and it warmed your insides at Jimin’s ear splitting smile that followed.  “That’s all so amazing…how do you know so much?”

“It’s just a hobby of mine—I like nature and astronomy and astrology. There’s so much to learn…that’s why I was so fascinated the day that you said you wanted to be a gypsy moth…it was such a specific answer, so I wondered if it was a hobby of yours, too.”

“Oh…no. I’m sorry to disappoint,” you said, and your tone came off more sad than you’d intended. Jimin caught onto it, holding his free hand to you in defense.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I was just…interested in learning about you,” he said. His voice was low, the sentence almost coming out like a sigh. You dared to look at Jimin’s face to decipher his expression, only to find him looking dead into your eyes. For some reason you felt compelled, unable to look away until he did, biting his lip and flopping back onto his back on the picnic table.

“I keep waiting for you to say it first…so I feel less guilty. That’s fucked up, isn’t it?” he laughed humorlessly, rubbing a hand over his face. You had gut feeling exactly what he was talking about, and it made you heartbeat triple in your chest.

You dared, in a small voice, to ask anyways, “To say what?”

“That you’re attracted to me…in the way that I am to you.”

The world seemed to stop. The birds in the trees seemed to stop chirping, the cicadas in the grass seemed to stop their high-pitched ringing, you stopped breathing. You blinked a few times to what seemed like minutes passing, finally taking two shaky breaths in and out before you stuttered out, “W-what? Jimin, I—”

“I know. That was really bold of me, but I just needed to know if it was true…if what I was feeling was actually there or if it was just a figment of my imagination, you know?” he laughed again, more nervous-sounding this time, and he covered up his eyes with his forearm. “I’m sorry, Y/N…I don’t even know why I asked you to come out here.”

“No, Jimin. Jesus,” you leaned forward, pulling his arm off of his eyes so that you could look at him. “I’m not rejecting you. I’m just—I don’t know how to say what I’m feeling right now.”

You felt like your throat was drier than it had ever been, locking up all the words you wanted to say and making sure they didn’t come out and embarrass you. Jimin perked up at your reply, sitting up and scooting off the top of the bench to sit beside you, his thigh brushing against yours.

“Me either,” he said honestly, running a hand through his hair. It was almost dark now, only the tiniest light filtering in from the trees overhead so that you could see small planes of Jimin’s face as he spoke. Even in the darkness, you noticed the change in his demeanor and it set your skin ablaze as he licked his lips once again before murmured, “Can I show you instead of telling you?”

You nodded shyly as he brought both hands up to cradle your face, the soft sleeves of his shirt brushing against your cheeks as his lips found yours. The kiss was tentative and unsure as he waited for you to react before he continued. Little did he know, your body was no longer yours the moment he touched you. All of your thoughts and controls went haywire instantly, your brain a void full of TV screen static, your nerves running on adrenaline, your pulse pounding in your ears.

You finally let yourself go, and pressed harder against Jimin’s lips, leaning into the kiss and into his hands to encourage him. His mouth moved against yours, lips brushing, your hands creeping towards him on the bench, tempted to tangle themselves into the luscious locks of hair that had enticed you for far too long. You sighed into the kiss and Jimin, testing the waters, used your open mouth as permission to tentatively poke his tongue through, stroking it against yours lazily.

You knew from Jimin’s earlier explanation that at this time, it was astronomical twilight, and that not just the brightest, but all the celestial bodies were visible at this point. But none of them compared to the ones in Jimin’s eyes when he pulled away from you, breathing heavily, his palms pressed against your warm face. They swam in his chocolate pupils like your own personal galaxy—and you were lost, bouncing among the constellations that formed there, unsure of where your starry journey had taken you.

“Jimin, I—” You were at a lost for words, still trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. Your heart was racing, your palms were sweaty, your lips still tingled from the unfamiliar weight of Jimin’s pressed against them. “I’m…”

He shushed you, tucking your hair behind your ears with his hands and brushing his thumb against the apple of your cheek. “You can decide what this is, Y/N. I know that was wrong and so completely out of line for me…but god, did it feel so right.”

You closed your eyes, listening to his velvety smooth voice. Slowly, the sounds of the forest around you returned, and you wondered just how long your ears had been on mute. You could hear birds wings fluttering as they moved from tree to tree, cicadas chirping and frogs calling for rain, the crunching of leaves as squirrels moved around. Distant sounds of music floated through from campus, and the wind blew the leaves on the trees and made you shudder, wrapping your cardigan tighter around you.

And then, there was Jimin, sitting in front of you in all his effortless beauty: dark eyes full of worry and apprehension, soft hands grabbing at yours, interlacing your fingers together, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip that was plump from kissing. The smooth, cool metal of the rings that he wore grazed against your palm, pulling your gaze to them briefly and then back up at Jimin.

“Did I scare you away?” He smiled bashfully, looking at you from under his bangs.

You giggled. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

Jimin squeezed your hand, fingers still interlaced with his as the smile on his face grew wider and more confident at your words. It was nighttime now, the sun long gone below the horizon, and the trial was completely void besides you and Jimin.

“You’re scary quiet, Y/N. Please say something.”

You sighed, biting your lip. “It’s just—this is all beyond my wildest dreams and all…but—”

“There’s always a but,” Jimin said wistfully, and it made your heart hurt.

“You’re my TA, Jimin. This is so much bigger than you and I…this would never be okay in a million years to the university, especially since I’m taking classes in the major—”

Jimin shook his head, laughing. “Y/N, do you think it was a coincidence that I switched you out of my class and into Taehyung’s? I’m not your TA anymore, technically.”

You sucked in a breath, your mind whirling with the possibility that Jimin had been thinking about this almost as long as you had. The pieces slowly fell into place for him until he’d been given the golden opportunity when you came into his classroom with coffee and questions.

“Listen, if you’re still not comfortable with ‘us’ being a thing then…why don’t we compromise?” He raised his eyebrows and you blinked, waiting for him to continue. “We can wait until you’re out of the intro class and if you still want to give us a try, then we will. If you don’t, then I’ll understand. How does that sound?”

“Okay…” you nodded slowly, turning the idea over in your head. It seemed fair enough, but could you go the rest of the semester being normal with Jimin after tonight?

“We can still see each other, though, just…in secluded areas,” Jimin added, his tone full of regret, but you understood completely. He still had a job at the university to uphold and you didn’t want to anything to happen on your end as an undergrad student, either. “If that’s what you want.”

“Of course I do,” you blurted out, and Jimin chuckled at your eagerness. “And can we still…”

“Kiss?” he asked, raising a playful eyebrow at you. Your face heated at the bluntness of his response, but you waited with anticipation at his answer.

“Let’s see about that one, okay?” He grinned, softening the initial blow of his answer. “I don’t want to keep tasting the honey if I can’t capture the hardworking bee that made it…so I can taste all the time, you know?”

You laughed loudly at his analogy, smacking his shoulder playfully. “Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.”

“You better get used to it, Y/N! Come on,” he kept your hand intertwined with his, pulling you off the bench and into his side as he began walking. “We should probably head back.”

[thestoryspinster]

‘Hail, Marry’- An Excerpt

Sometimes, silence is the worst sound.

Not that their new room was particularly quiet. Kim Hana sat on the edge of her bed, crammed between  rows of boxes and its thin, plywood frame, absentmindedly lifting items out of their containers and arranging them on her mattress. They were sparse: some changes of clothes, neatly folded and arranged by outfit; trays of pens and pencils in all shades of vibrant hues; her sketchbooks, many of which bore crinkled pages and smudge marks; some personal hygiene items; and a plain, gray comforter with matching pillowcases and sheets.

On the other side of their new living quarters, Aeri stood by a window, the sunlight highlighting her cheekbones and flowing in shafts past her body as she chatted cheerily with her parents. Dust swirled around the three of them as they laughed and joked together. All slim, all jovial, all perfect.

Hana flipped to a fresh, white page and drew out one of her graphite pencils, trying to ignore the dull, persistent ache in her chest. Deftly, she sketched the outlines of their bodies, trying to capture the affection flowing from their stances in a few, quick lines. Admittedly, the motions felt liberating, as if pinning their love for each other made it somehow more accessible. Somehow more of her own.

She paused for a moment, considering the skeletal drawing in her lap and the real life thing before her. She’d gotten quite good at depicting the mood of a scene in just a few, brief lines, but the pain in her heart returned when she saw the vibrancy of the full scene. Deep inside, she knew she was never going to be able to reflect the way they smiled at one another or laughed, or the sheen of tears that gathered in the corners of the mother’s eyes as they unpacked baby photos and graduation pictures. All those feelings were too foreign to be taken. To become hers.

Sighing, she scrawled the word “Happiness” at the top of the page and then stowed it next to her clothing.

“Hana, honey,” Aeri’s mother said, her voice soft. “Do you need anything? I’m so terribly sorry your parents couldn’t make it this year. Our Aeri has told us so much about you, and we were looking forward to meeting everyone.”

Hana likened Aeri’s mother to a cherry blossom tree on a spring day, wilting with kindness and blooming with a pink, ethereal beauty. She looked just like the bright-eyed woman beaming from the picture wall above Aeri’s bed last year, her starry, dark eyes flecked with care.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, considering adding that her parents wished they could be here, but decided against it.

No need to lie for them.

Instead, she broke her gaze with Aeri’s mom and busied herself arranging textbooks on the shelf next to the bed. The woman lingered for a moment and opened her mouth, only to close it again.

Two quick beeps vibrated against the surface of her desk, and Hana reached for her phone, inwardly relieved at the distraction. The screen displayed a name, followed by a block of text. She smiled.

Lee Kyungjin

A yo yo yo! Guess who’s back?

Anyway, I have some things to give to you. Meet me at my apartment at 4?

She glanced out of the window. Even from here, she could see the tall building, its sides glinting in the sun. Cars meandered through the parking lot in front of it, loaded with boxes and suitcases, and people maneuvered up and down the stairway. In the windows, lines of clothes hung, displaying fresh, crisp outfits readied for the upcoming school year.

Aren’t your parents still here? She typed. Shouldn’t we wait?

She sent the message, and then watched as his text bubble popped up.

Ya, aren’t you dying to see me? Besides, it’s important.

Rolling her eyes, she chuckled under her breath.

Fine. 4  o’clock, but behind the apartment. Okay?

Wow, sounds shady.

….you watch too many weird movies. Don’t get any ideas.

It’s how I stay sharp on my writing!

Whatever. Love you, Kyungie. See you soon!

“You’re smile’s reaching up to your ears!”

The bubbly, female voice cut into her thoughts, and she noticed Aeri, face glowing as she hooked a line of Christmas lights above her photo wall. The strip dipped down, casting small haloes of bright white against the cinder block. Plopping onto the mattress, she bounced, her golden Hello Kitty earrings jangling. At some point, her parents had left the room.

“Is it Kyungjin oppa?” she asked, leaning forward and dropping her tone.

Hana crossed her legs and pushed down a grin, pulling her phone closer to her body. “He’s only a day older than you. He’s not really your oppa.”

“Yeah, but what does that matter?” The mattress squeaked under her, and a shrillness crept into her words. “What is he saying?”

“Keep your voice down. He’s just saying he wants to see me.”

“Of course he does!” she replied, lowering her tone. “You’ve been away all summer.”

Hana shrugged. “Eh, he’ll live.”

Rocking forward, Aeri planted her feet on the ground, propped her elbow against her knees, and braced her chin against her palm. She eyed Hana. “So, have you told anyone else yet?”

Hana shook her head, her lips turning into a small crescent. “No.”

“Aish, why not? You’ve been together for a year already!”

“Oh, please. You just want to start a fan site for us and have a place to post all the pictures you take.”

“And so what if I do? He has a huge following. You’d have a huge following. Which means I’d have a huge following, which is perfect for an aspiring journalist.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to stick to being actually talented.” Hana scooted herself up against the wall and leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. The pile of items slid down into the indentation created by her body’s weight, but she ignored them. She didn’t feel particularly like cleaning them up right now.

Aeri laughed. “Hey, I get A’s in all of my writing classes, and you know it!”

“I know. And your writing is actually very good. But I’m sorry, Kyungjin and I aren’t going public with our relationship any time soon. I’m not ready for that kind of following.”

“But, what if you’re destined for it? What if you end up marrying him?”

“I prefer not to think of that, actually.”

The truth was, the thought of marriage sent her stomach into a clump of knots. She remembered the day her parents wed, with the hall lined with flowers and linens of pure white. To the sides, people gathered around tables, their faces radiating joy as well dressed servers laid food on their plates.

Little fists caught in the curtains separating her from the raised platform, she peeked out from behind them, insides flitting with excitement and nerves. She glanced back at her mother, who stood directly behind her, chatting with her maid of honor as the girl fanned out the luminous train behind her.

In her five years, she couldn’t remember recall seeing anyone more beautiful. Combed flush against her scalp, the long stresses of her black hair pulled back into a large, elegant bun positioned at the back of her head and held together by several strands of pearls. Her face glowed with a dewey luminescence, accented in its brilliance by two large, glittering diamonds that hung from her ears. Her eyes sparked, and she emanated an ethereal blend of vanilla and citrus.

The dress draped around her, falling from her shoulders, cinching at her waist, and pooling around her feet at the floor. The neckline plunged, revealing a swath of white skin covered by a sheen of of satin. Jewels adorned her wrists and spilled from her silver and lavender flowers.

Most memorably, however, she bent down, adjusting the skirt around her, and kissed Hana’s cheeks.

“You look beautiful, dear,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and smiling. Hana wanted to take that moment and hold it in her mind forever. Even as a child, she filed it away into her memory and held it in front of her as she walked out before those people, and then later, as she walked out into life.

After the wedding, her parents hired a nanny to care for her, and, when she was old enough to begin school, enrolled her in a Catholic boarding institute. And for years, they’d inhabited separate places and separate lives.

Her brother had been the same. Following his birth, her mother swaddled him in light blue blanket and handed him to the nanny. A few days later, she and Hana’s father boarded a plane for the Maldives to celebrate her recent promotion.

But Hana would never forget her mother’s fleeting affection, nor the nagging sense that with marriage came the exclusion of all else good in life.

[ithinkitsdanny]

29 MARCH 2020

COVID THOUGHTS

Who would have thought we would live in such interesting times? Every day goes by, and what was strange yesterday seems like normal today. Remember when the worst threat to our sanity was the thought of Sarah Palin as our Vice President? 

I never once thought that I would live in days that would line the pages of future textbooks (or whatever it is we’ll be using to teach history to students in the future). I grew up in a boring suburb of tuCsoN, aRIzONa, and part of me thought that I would never leave that place, and nothing would happen, and that was life. But that was not the case. Things are always happening, and things just seem to keep getting stranger in certain ways. 

Most people my age remember waking up one day and getting ready for school, or maybe you were at school, and seeing on the news that two towers in New York had fallen over. We watched as our country decided to invade a country most of us didn’t know existed (don’t judge, I was only in second grade, and the only other places I knew about were from watching the 2000 Sydney olympics with my family the summer before). We watched as our president and congress decided it was necessary for us to invade another country that many of us knew nothing about. We saw friends go off to fight, and sometimes just die in the desert, for something that made very little sense to us. 

Michael Jackson died one day. A man accused of molesting children. Yet people mourned his loss. 

One day, in high school, my friends and I were planning to go to the mall and just hangout in the air conditioning, like high school and middle school kids. But on the radios, the TVs, the cell phones, came news that a young man, living only ten minutes from my house and pictured right next to my oldest brother in his yearbook, had shot up a grocery store where a local beloved congresswoman was holding a rally. Six people were killed. A federal judge died that day, Gabby Giffords, our representative, was shot, and a six year old girl was killed. They held the funeral at the church my mom would drag us to every Sunday. But nothing changed. People kept their guns and decided they were more important than the lives of the children and neighbors around them. To make things worse, a radical christian group, one that is still active today and that just recently visited Maui, came to protest the little girl’s funeral and even claimed that their god wanted her dead. 

Nothing changed. Hate speech is protected by the first amendment and people will die for it, and people will let a thousand children’s lives perish before anyone can “take our guns.”

There was some hope though. Our president was black. His middle name was even Hussein. There were people in office fighting for LGBTQIA+ rights and leaders states were slowly legalizing weed and gay marriage. We had a hispanic WOMAN put in the supreme court. There were plans to fight climate change (though they were weak). But there were still shootings popping up around the country and kids in the middle east were still being bombed daily. We’re still there, still bombing too. But for eight year, there was progress, and a lot of it. 

Then 2015 came. Who the fuck did we piss off upstairs to give us 2015? A reality TV show host started his presidential bid by calling mexican immigrants criminals, thugs, and rapists. And for the first time in my life I realized that I wasn’t white (my mom is white, my dad mexican heritage from Sonora and Northern New Mexico). I remember talking to my dad, and he even said to me that in his fifty-five years of life that he never had once thought that his last name or the color of his skin could have an effect on the way people saw him. People supported this man. 

I can understand why though, and it is totally ignorant for liberals or other left-leaning people like myself to not look into what made this orange man so popular. He was different. Democrats failed to improve the lives of working class peoples. Identity politics were taking the place of actual progress and stances, and Hillary was a person with a very scary past.

Trump won, and all the sudden Nazis were, like, back. People openly identifying as Neo-Nazis and white supremecists were all the sudden marching in the streets. A person was killed because a neo-nazi thought it would be okay to hit a protester with her car. But these people are protected by the first amendment and hate-speech is not a crime (though murdering someone with your car most definitely is in fact a crime). Counter protesters were out in the streets being harrassed, and some people were, like, totally fine with this guy being in office. 

Basically, a lot of weird shit has happened. To recap anything I missed:

     - Black kids are being shot by cops and the cops are getting off free sometimes even when there is video evidence that show their wrongdoing 

     -Republicans stole a supreme court judge from Barrack Obama, and then appointed a known rapist to the highest court in the country, and paid no attention to what this might mean for their daughters, sisters, and mothers

     -There was a financial collapse (how did I forget to mention this?) and people were forced out onto the streets while houses sat empty

     -England left the European Union

     -Somehow, people living on Native American reservations still don’t have electricity and most of us are just fine with that

     -Refugee children are being held in cages in America and sleeping on floors

     -And uhh, coral reefs are dying off, plastic is killing animals in our oceans, and human-made climate change is real. 

I am not saying this is anyone’s fault. Everyone is to blame for issues taking place. People my age buy cheap clothing from sweatshops and then throw it away a month after having it. I know tons of people that are my generation that do not recycle anything, and plenty that won’t even take the five minutes necessary to register to vote. My vehicle only gets 17 miles a gallon and I eat SO MUCH FOOD THAT IS SO BAD FOR THE ENVIRONMENT. So, we all suck in a way. 

But here we are now, in the year 2020, a number that sounds made up. It feels like the times we are in are totally made up. We are not allowed out of our houses. There is a deadly virus that is spreading across the world, and people are literally dying all over. At least twenty people I know are on unemployment at the moment, the gyms are closed, and it doesn’t seem likely that I will see my students again this year. 

But people seem united in a way. People are calling each other. Cousins are setting up Zoom meetings with family members from all over the world so that we can see each other. Aunties are sewing face masks for hospital workers to use. Restaurants are giving free food to laid-off service industry employees. People are singing to one another from their balconies. Waters around busy port cities are clean enough for animals to return. Air over China has cleared up. Cities and towns are doing whatever they can to keep small businesses afloat in these hard times. Co-workers are calling each other to check in. And for the first time in my life, it actually feels like people really love each other. This virus, though it sucks, has made our world look the closest it has ever looked to an actual real live Coca-cola commercial (you know the ones on TV where all the people are singing and dancing and holding hands just because someone popped open a can of diabetic sugar water). The world is paused.

.

.

.

In a way, it feels nice. 

.

.

.

This situation sucks, but we are doing what we need to do: we are S L O W I N G D O W N. I am bored in my home, and I am sure most of us are, but I don’t know if I have ever seen people so united. I don’t know if I ever will again see this.

But for this moment in time which none of us will forget, we are showing each other the our best sides. We are showing what it means to really be human. 

We will get through this. This will make us all stronger. You will not give up on me. I will not give up on you. We will not give up. 

We are together. 

Thank you for reading and I hope you take some time to call your family members, your friends, your coworkers, and you neighbors today. 

Danny

Also, abolish ICE and eat the rich. 

[dydturktek]

Nem Kurutma | Nem Alma | Rutubet Kurutma | DYD 444 0 719

Warrior, Healer, Love associated with Life 'Words held in the mouth

Warrior, Healer, Love associated with Life ‘Words held in the mouth

My spouse and i miss,

I just miss,

My spouse and i miss.

Hesitant my phrases will overflow

I mouthful my lips.

My eyes ache.

Fearful the cry in my eyes

will become nostalgia together with spill,

carefully,

I think about the sky.

  Empty sky. ‘

– Very own grandmother’s poems

As long as I’m able to remember, my favorite grandmother (Halmuni in Korean, the true solution I handle her) has loved existence. Life, within the various manifestations: flowers, trees, weeds, wildlife, dogs. I became born in to a family having one pet. But sometime, or for many things throughout my well being, new dogs kept acting in Halmuni’s house, and by the time As i moved to help Thailand at age nine, I had been living in a lot of things with 9 dogs. Just one dog for one year. Halmuni would go walking her bit countryside neighborhood whenever your lover had moment, admiring the actual sweeping via golden almond paddies rustled by the wind turbine. She has at all times walked using a little manipulate in your ex back, browsing the ground she walks regarding; she isn’t going to want to pass up a single possiblity to spot, identify, and enjoy little areas of wild flowers. Sometimes, My spouse and i walked with her too, reversing her actions. When we observed paw designs left while in the concrete of your road previously it had place, we asked yourself together precisely what animal it may possibly have been. My opinion was a doggie. Hers, the tiger. At 60, your woman had the wilder creative thinking than a 90 years year old. From some time during the stroll, a stray dog seems. It looked up at Halmuni and observed. Just used, without a footprint of doubtfulness of who else she was or wherever she was initially going. Halmuni kept strolling, walking, followed straight back home, and if your new puppy was still at this time there, it achieved it00 there to sleep in. The fourth time this taken place, I researched at the girl like a little one in amaze because I used to be. Maybe it’s not so much that she adores life, still that it loves her. Everyday living reaches near her because if she had been light. Animals follow your ex and fatten under the girl care; indoor plants flourish, even when they are heading back from simply being half dead. Halmuni will save you and heals, saves in addition to heals.

As much as she is any healer, nancy a warrior. When my very own aunt, our mom’s elderly sister, within high school, your lover got addicted to reading comic book heroes. She copied them through the comic book store together with shared them with her good friends, flipping with them voraciously. The only problem was, this girl read these folks at classes. Not throughout classes, but during noiseless study time from 7-11 PM.

‘She was innovative, your mother, ‘ claims Halmuni. ‘She set the girl textbook upright vacuum, then put the comic book within her publication so that in the front, the actual teacher notion she was studying. The best way smart. Why didn’t I do think of that at school? ‘

In due course, my sister got caught. She was initially treated just as one organized criminal leader rebelling against the sacred silent analyze period. Any time my halmuni caught statement of this, the woman didn’t discipline my cousin. Instead, the girl marched on the school, herb printed shirt and colorful drawstring trousers flying outside behind the girl, and taken care of my aunt.

‘What is really so wrong by girls enjoyable themselves through comic books? It’s not like they may about intercourse! They’re just simply innocent absolutely love stories! Really 11PM the actual! Silent study is basically sparetime, for God’s sake, what amount of of the child’s everyday life do you want to deal with? ‘

In that case, she met with all the moms of the young ladies involved in the circumstance and billed them plan the belief that of course , she has been right. Halmuni was famous after that. When my mom followed around for the same institution seven years later, then my grand uncle, two years after that, all the college knew which they were dealing with a warrior.

That is definitely what Halmuni always has been for me, as well. Her weapon of choice was thoughts, usually spoken (sometimes yelled), but when I had been growing up, the girl also wielded a write. Halmuni was a prolific poet warrior and even her challenge was to possess her tone heard as the woman. Nonetheless last summer time, I went back home that will Korea to that the girl wasn’t generally a soldier. She termed me towards bedroom someday when I was basically looking by way of her quality recipes with the grandfather to choose what to currently have for dinner. Actually entered the area, she has been sitting on the ground as the lady usually is certainly, looking at pictures from a frayed looking field. I had never spotted this common box before.

My spouse and i sat cross punch legged in front of her and asked, ‘What’s this? ‘

‘This is actually my family, ‘ she answered, not finding out about. She turned a photograph near in my track. I saw not one but two little girls together with two aged boys, mother and father, and a nanna. Halmuni pointed out the elderly girl to me. ‘That’s all of us, ‘ this lady said, ‘And that’s this little sis, my inlaws, my parents, and my mom. ‘

‘But you don’t have any kind of sisters. You have one elderly brother, ‘

‘I used to have a little sibling, and a further brother, very, ‘ Halmuni touches typically the tiny white or black photograph while she says the. The image is seeped in age, curling round the edges. Their finger sweeps the short hair of her brothers, stopages on the common Korean clothing that what she grandmother is wearing. Halmuni delicately begins a story about your ex family, ahead of this family group. A family My partner and i forgot your woman must have acquired, because the lady was generally so primarily the matriarch of acquire.

We were born equally Korea was basically liberated through Japan. Previous to I could perhaps comprehend i was Korean, another warfare broke available. There were zero enemies, though, non-e i always could find out: everyone during this war was Korean. There seemed to be no Japoneses armor just about anywhere, but individuals were dying alright. I was 6 in 1950. I lived with our grandma, mother and father, my couple of older friends, one twenty and one eight, and a bit sister, who has been a baby. My parents were always out carrying out things and so i was catered for by my grandma. I realize now that these were socialists, very prominent while in the political world. But in that political ballpark where there was only communists and democrats, there was fewer room for socialists. I recall my elder brother going back home someday looking paranoid, and he smiled and told me that he was going to save all of our parents. We learned in the future that he traveled to jail on my mom and even dad for their political hobbies, but… that will didn’t mean my parents were being safe. My partner and i never noticed any of them for a second time. My earliest brother, my friend, or my dad.

We had for you to. The Soviet army was basically coming Southern. My aunt was a baby. My grandmother wrapped your girlfriend in a umbrella at home. All of us couldn’t take her. Very own grandma, I believe, knew your baby wouldn’t pull through the alpage, anyway. It was cold. I just shined typically the shoes for blonde-haired troopers for sweet and periodontal disease. I mastered my primary English statement then. Chocolates.

By the time we got to a relative’s house more South, it absolutely was just my cousin and us.

We gape at my grandmother who have now looks like she basically jumped away from a history guide. More pictures come out of which box, considered one of her mother and father, another resumewriter one for her most well-known brother, is actually every one, she seems deeper and out of the park away from people, floating to impress her back in some sort of lake associated with memories. Still I feel more close to her, overly, in more techniques than I possess known prior to my grandma is not just our grandmother. Previously that, this lady was a little girl, an orphan, a girlfriend, a woman. She is healer, warrior, significant other of the light and existence, full of energy source and ambiance. I think about where everything life hails from. I question whether I would have the ability to pour a great deal of love within the world basically came from any of a new loss. My spouse and i wonder what she aspirations at night, I wonder what exactly her hands and fingers think if they hold excavation, my epidermis taut along with soft without having made it three winter seasons with no equipment, unlike my favorite grandmother’s, who also only received her own grandmother’s hands to place hers through the cold.

Halmuni is healer, warrior, significant other of the gentle and everyday living. And the woman with a survivor.

‘Life is although

one long exclamation place! ‘

https://www.nemkurutma.com/warrior-healer-love-associated-with-life-words-17/

NEM KURUTMA HİZMETLERİ

[opalescentsummerfairy-blog]

Trump won’t win. in fact, the US could be about the brink of a liberal renaissance

For significantly of the past year, Donald Trump had lived something of your charmed political life. Sure, he scapegoated Mexican immigrants and also Muslims (not some, however all). He lobbed crude insults in a female journalist and one with a disability. He attacked his opponents with monikers such as “Lyin’ Ted” and also “Little Marco”, mocked Jeb Bush for being “low energy” as well as in comparison Ben Carson for you to a small child molester. He even went following prior Republican presidential nominees, such as 2008 nominee John McCain, whom he said has been simply no war hero since the North Vietnamese captured him. And Also he demonstrated, repeatedly, that he had been immensely unqualified for your task of president regarding United States. Yet none involving it seemed for you to issue to be able to Republican voters. Trump’s poll quantities steadily increased, his primary and caucus victories steadily piled up then one Republican opponent after another fell through the wayside, unable to stop him. Actually recent polls showed him neck and neck using the Democratic nominee, Hillary Clinton. Play VideoPlay Current Occasion 0:00 / Duration Occasion 0:56 Loaded: 0% Progress: 0% FullscreenMute Facebook Twitter Pinterest Donald Trump repeatedly calls Elizabeth Warren ‘Pocahontas’ But last week, when Trump launched a new vicious as well as nakedly racist attack against Gonzalo Curiel, the actual judge within his Trump College fraud case, the halo around Trump began to hack – and it offered the useful reminder concerning why Trump provides practically absolutely no possibility of winning the particular presidency. Fairly simply, the Republican electorate looks nothing like the remaining American electorate. Trump provides systematically alienated your demographic groups he will must win the White House Trump’s broadsides against Judge Curiel certainly crossed the line. The Particular presumptive GOP nominee suggested that the judge’s “bad decisions” against him weren't the effect regarding Curiel’s interpretation of the law, but rather because, as Trump put it, he’s a new “Mexican” (Curiel was created throughout Indiana). Since Trump has a harsh take a glance at illegal immigration coming from Mexico, Trump alleged that will Curiel’s ethnic heritage caused it to be impossible for him in order to provide unbiased judgments about Trump’s case. This kind of is, as even Republicans get pointed out, the actual textbook concept of racism. Trump additionally intimated that Curiel ought for you to be investigated and in which if he wins the particular White Residence he may even retaliate from the judge directly. In Which he is openly attacking your federal judiciary, because he runs with an office using the duty involving appointing federal judges, represents a fundamental disrespect for the rule involving the law and raises genuine concerns as to whether as well as not Trump, as president, would enforce court orders with that he disagrees. Still, it’s hard to find out how Trump’s remarks about Curiel were any kind of a whole lot worse compared to his earlier feedback with regards to Mexican criminals or perhaps his proposed Muslim ban. These People practically pale next to end up being able to his sinister pledge to analyze Amazon, because its CEO furthermore owns your Washington post and Trump continues to be unhappy with some of this paper’s coverage regarding him. Throughout the actual American constitutional system, this would be an impeachable offence. What has evolved is the fact that Trump provides shifted his attacks coming from foreign targets to always be able to actual American citizens, rendering it more challenging for even Republicans to defend them. Moreover, the context by which they were delivered was completely different. Throughout the particular Republican primaries, GOP voters were not significantly involved regarding Trump’s xenophobic and bigoted attacks. Most associated with his fellow presidential aspirants were calling with regard to Syrian Muslims being banned from entering the actual US, frequently railed against illegal immigration and more than a few implicitly known as for that US to commit war crimes inside its fight contrary to the Islamic State. Trump just went a step further and also there’s significant evidence that they helped him on their email list of Republican rank along with file. The stories anyone need to read, in a handy email read more But today, Trump is not battling for assistance among Republican voters – he’s trying to win more than Democrats as well as independents. Rather compared to facing opponents who were mainly unbothered by Trump’s bigotry, he’s now in the fight against Hillary Clinton and the Democratic party. These People possess a different view about these matters. This, in the nutshell, will be Trump’s problem: in order to earn the particular Republican nomination he needed to consider intense positions on the host involving issues. He needed to demonise illegal immigration. That Will strategy does not function amongst non-Republican voters. Indeed, pertaining to all the concerns raised through liberals about the possibility in which Trump could win, much less focus has been compensated to the fact that Trump can become a uniquely unpopular figure – strongly disliked by Democrats, independents and even many Republicans. Latest polls demonstrate that Hillary Clinton scores more than Trump amongst females voters simply by greater than twenty points. Facebook Twitter Pinterest Latest polls show that Hillary Clinton scores higher than Trump amongst ladies voters through a lot more than twenty points. Photograph: Julio Cortez/AP The purpose has significantly to accomplish together with demographics: Trump offers systematically alienated your demographic teams he will have to acquire the actual White House. 4 years ago, when Barack Obama beat Mitt Romney within the presidential election, he won by 5 million votes. Beginning through in which baseline, Trump requirements in order to get back at least 2.5 million votes just to interrupt even within the well-known vote. However to They Said He Couldn't Win complete so he would need to boost about Romney’s dismal 27% support among Hispanic voters. that is likely to be hard for Trump, thinking about that, in accordance with several polls, he’s viewed unfavourably through more than 80% of Hispanics. Advertisement This year, an estimated 30% of the US electorate is going to be non-white. Trump will likely do a whole lot worse than Romney and get any small fraction involving these votes. Then you will find his problems with girls voters. Within 2012, Obama won these through 11 points more than Romney. Latest polls display Clinton winning this team simply by more than twenty points. Regarding course, whilst there are no assures which these figures maintain up, if just so really long as Clinton does as well as Obama does 4 many years ago, your woman will possibly be extremely challenging to beat. Correct now, she’s outperforming him. There can also be the Democrats’ benefit inside the electoral college, the proven fact that Trump doesn’t have a lot marketing campaign cash and virtually simply no campaign infrastructure and furthermore the fact that many Republicans are usually wanting to distance by themselves through him. Indeed, it’s consequently hard to observe how Trump can easily get that the real issue for 2016 might certainly not be the particular White House, yet rather Congress, which Republicans currently manage and, within the case involving an electoral bloodbath for the GOP, could potentially lose. When that were to happen, Hillary Clinton would use a Democratic Congress and the opportunity to push by means of dozens regarding items of progressive legislation. Ironically, Trump’s rise, rather than signalling a new flip towards nativist, authoritarian politics in the US, could, inside the electorate’s rejection involving him, usher in a more progressive political era. Michael The Cohen can be author involving Reside Via the actual Marketing Campaign Trail: Your Greatest Presidential Marketing Campaign Speeches in the Twentieth Century as well as That They Shaped Modern America

[trippyhippiedjae-blog]

Trump won’t win. Throughout fact, the particular US might be about the brink of the liberal renaissance

For much regarding the past year, Donald Trump had lived some thing of your charmed political life. Sure, he scapegoated Mexican immigrants along with Muslims (not some, yet all). He lobbed crude insults with a female journalist and one using a disability. He attacked his opponents together with monikers such as “Lyin’ Ted” along with “Little Marco”, mocked Jeb Bush for being “low energy” and in comparison Ben Carson to a small child molester. He even went right after previous Republican presidential nominees, including 2008 nominee John McCain, who he said has been zero war hero because the North Vietnamese captured him. And Also he demonstrated, repeatedly, that he ended up being immensely unqualified for your task regarding president regarding United States. Yet none of it seemed to end up being able to issue for you to Republican voters. Trump’s poll quantities steadily increased, his main along with caucus victories steadily piled up then one Republican opponent right after another fell through the wayside, struggling to quit him. Perhaps current polls confirmed him neck and also neck with the Democratic nominee, Hillary Clinton. Play VideoPlay Current time 0:00 / Duration Period 0:56 Loaded: 0% Progress: 0% FullscreenMute Facebook Twitter Pinterest Donald Trump repeatedly calls Elizabeth Warren ‘Pocahontas’ But last week, when Trump launched a new vicious along with nakedly racist attack against Gonzalo Curiel, the particular judge within his Trump university fraud case, the halo around Trump began to crack – and it offered a new beneficial reminder concerning why Trump features practically zero potential for winning your presidency. Very simply, the They Said He Couldn't Win actual Republican electorate looks nothing like the remaining part regarding the American electorate. Trump has systematically alienated your demographic teams he will need to get the White House Trump’s broadsides against Judge Curiel certainly crossed any line. The Particular presumptive GOP nominee suggested that the judge’s “bad decisions” against him are not the result involving Curiel’s interpretation with the law, but rather because, as Trump place it, he’s a new “Mexican” (Curiel was created throughout Indiana). Since Trump has a harsh look at illegal immigration through Mexico, Trump alleged in which Curiel’s ethnic heritage made it impossible for him in order to offer unbiased judgments on Trump’s case. This particular is, as even Republicans have got pointed out, your textbook concept of racism. Trump furthermore intimated in which Curiel ought in order to be investigated as well as that if he wins the White Residence he might even retaliate contrary for you to the judge directly. That Will he's openly attacking the federal judiciary, while he runs to get an office using the duty of appointing federal judges, represents any fundamental disrespect for the rule involving regulations as well as raises legitimate concerns concerning whether Trump, as president, would enforce court orders using which in turn he disagrees. Still, it’s tough to find out how Trump’s remarks with regards to Curiel had been virtually any a whole lot worse than his earlier feedback concerning Mexican criminals as well as his proposed Muslim ban. These People practically pale subsequent to always be able to his sinister pledge to investigate Amazon, since its CEO additionally owns the actual Washington Submit and also Trump may be unhappy by incorporating of that paper’s coverage regarding him. in the American constitutional system, this could be an impeachable offence. What has evolved is usually that Trump has shifted his attacks coming from foreign targets to become able to real American citizens, which tends in order to make it harder for even Republicans for you to defend them. Moreover, your context by which these folks were delivered was totally different. Throughout the actual Republican primaries, GOP voters were not significantly involved with regards to Trump’s xenophobic along with bigoted attacks. Most associated with his fellow presidential aspirants had been calling pertaining to Syrian Muslims to become banned through coming into your US, often railed against illegal immigration as well as more than a few implicitly called for your US to end up being able to commit war crimes throughout its fight from the Islamic State. Trump just went one step further and also there’s significant evidence which they assisted him one regarding the Republican rank as well as file. The stories you must read, in the single handy email read more But today, Trump just isn't battling with regard to support among Republican voters – he’s wanting to win over Democrats and also independents. Rather as compared to facing opponents who have got been largely unbothered by Trump’s bigotry, he’s now in a fight against Hillary Clinton and the Democratic party. They Will have a different view about these matters. This, in a nutshell, is actually Trump’s problem: to be able to get the actual Republican nomination he necessary to adopt intense positions on a host involving issues. He necessary to demonise illegal immigration. In Which strategy does not work among non-Republican voters. Indeed, for all the concerns raised simply by liberals in regards in order to the possibility in which Trump could win, much less focus has been paid out for the fact that Trump is truly a uniquely unpopular figure – strongly disliked through Democrats, independents as well as many Republicans. Current polls demonstrate that Hillary Clinton scores greater than Trump among ladies voters through greater than 20 points. Facebook Twitter Pinterest Current polls show that Hillary Clinton scores higher than Trump amongst ladies voters by more than twenty points. Photograph: Julio Cortez/AP The purpose provides a lot to complete using demographics: Trump provides systematically alienated the actual demographic teams that he will need to earn the particular White House. 4 years ago, when Barack Obama beat Mitt Romney in the presidential election, he won by 5 million votes. Beginning through that will baseline, Trump requirements in order to get back at least 2.5 million votes just to interrupt even within the well-liked vote. but to complete therefore however need to improve upon Romney’s dismal 27% support amongst Hispanic voters. Which will be difficult for Trump, considering that, based on some polls, he’s viewed unfavourably by simply greater than 80% regarding Hispanics. Advertisement This year, an estimated 30% in the US electorate is likely to be non-white. Trump will most likely do worse when compared with Romney and earn the little fraction of these votes. Then you will find his problems with girls voters. Within 2012, Obama won these people simply by 11 factors over Romney. recent polls present Clinton winning this group through a lot a lot more than 20 points. Regarding course, while there are no ensures in which these figures hold up, if just so very long as Clinton does too as Obama did 4 many years ago, your woman will be really hard to beat. right now, she’s outperforming him. There can be the particular Democrats’ advantage in the electoral college, your undeniable fact that Trump doesn’t get significantly marketing campaign cash as well as virtually zero campaign infrastructure and the fact that many Republicans are wanting to distance by themselves coming from him. Indeed, it’s so hard to see how Trump may win the real issue with regard to 2016 is probably not the White House, but rather Congress, which in turn Republicans presently manage and, inside the case associated with an electoral bloodbath for the GOP, could potentially lose. If that were in order to happen, Hillary Clinton would possess a Democratic Congress and in addition the possibility to push by means of dozens associated with pieces of progressive legislation. Ironically, Trump’s rise, rather than signalling any turn toward nativist, authoritarian politics within the US, could, inside the electorate’s rejection involving him, usher inside a a lot more progressive political era. Michael A New Cohen will be author of Stay from your campaign Trail: The Actual Greatest Presidential campaign Speeches in the Twentieth Century and also That They Shaped Modern America