#while also using my EXACT WORDS when describing a text he assigned

[knifebucket]

ALL PREV FROM @sorry-that-i

i love information i need more

[dirtyoatmeall]

Dig (Tsukishima x Reader)

A/N: I will def be writing more for these, as an archaeology major, I hold paleontology major tsukki in a special place in my heart. Also everything about the dig I describe is most likely incorrect lmao. 

Pairing: Paleontology major! Tsukki x Archaeology major! Reader (she/they pronouns used)

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: None :)

`

You met Tsukishima Kei the first day of your first year of college. It was your intro Anthropology course, and you had bumped into him on accident entering the auditorium. You had kept your head down, mumbling an apology before hurriedly finding a seat in the middle of the room. He sat a few seats over in the same row and you tried your best not to glance at him, he was obviously attractive, but all it took was a raised eyebrow when he caught you staring for you to look away blushing, pretending to look through your bag for something. You busied yourself with numbering the pages in your notebook until the professor started class.

It was a relatively small class, so the professor had everyone stand up and introduce themselves with their pronouns, major/minor, and one thing they want to accomplish. When it was your turn you tried your best not to sound confident as you spoke, though it didn’t last long, as the professor immediately asked you to repeat yourself louder. You were bright red by the time you finished introducing yourself. “H-hi, my name is (Y/N), I’m double majoring in bio-archaeology and Classics, my pronouns are she/they and I want to find Alexander the Great.” The professor nodded and the next person stood up to introduce themselves as you sat down, fiddling with your pen.

Tsukishima didn’t really think much of you until he watched you do the icebreaker for class. He thought it was an ambitious goal, and respectable dual majors. Though the thing that really drew his attention to you was the face you made when the person next to you introduced themselves as an archaeology major and that they wanted to find a complete T-Rex skeleton. Your face had twisted rather cutely into a grimace at your classmates words, turning to your notebook and scribbling in the corners. After the professor kindly explained the differences between archaeology and paleontology, it was his turn. He stood up, introduced himself “Tsukishima, he/him pronouns, paleozoology major, museum studies minor. And I’d like to find a job right out of school.” He sat down as the professor nodded and made a joke about finding a job. Soon enough the entire class had introduced themselves and the professor started going over the syllabus.

The first time Tsukishima saw you outside of class it was a Friday night. 3 a.m. to be exact. Thankfully your university had a 24hr library, and most of the students took advantage of it, though it was usually dead at this time of night, or morning. He spied you almost right away, nestled in a corner with multiple stacks of books and cans of energy drinks. You were nodding your head along to a dong and when he walked past he could very clearly hear ABBA blasting in your headphones. He smirked to himself and sat down a table down from you, getting ready to study for the upcoming test on Wednesday. He would get up periodically to get a book or a snack from the vending machine near the door. He noticed that every time he got up, your eyes would flicker to him, and you would pause your work, messing with your phone until he sat down again. He would return the favor, watching your things while you were gone.

About an hour into his study session he looked up to your spot when he heard you groan quietly. You aggressively paused your music and cutely pouted down at your notebook. You skimmed a few pages in the book next to you, comparing it to your notebook and whatever was on the screen of your laptop before rolling your eyes and softly face planting onto the book in front of you. Your eyes briefly fluttered to where he was, and you smiled slightly when the two of you made eye contact. He pretended to get back to the book he was supposed to be reading, but he watched you sigh as your eyes flickered from your notebook to him before you quietly got up and shuffled towards his table. He fully looked at you when you slid into the seat across from him, and he raised an eyebrow when you smiled awkwardly.

“Uh, Hi. I’m (Y/N), we have anth 250 together right?” You asked even though you very well knew he was in that class, but you still waited for confirmation before you continued. “That’s what I thought. Could you maybe help me with this? I’m having a hard time grasping it.” He glanced at what you were pointing at and nodded, he had also had some trouble with it, and had just recently figured it out. He explained it to you, smiling when he saw your eyebrows raise as you let out a soft ’ooohhh’ once you had grasped it. You had moved to get up when he cleared his throat, “Uh, you can sit here if you want, that way if you have any other questions you don’t have to come all the way over here.” Tsukishima didn’t look at you when he said it, but saw you smile and nod out of the corner of his eye. You brought your stuff over to his table and the two of you studied together for a few more hours, occasionally talking about class that led into talking about random things the two of you both liked.

At 5:30 you sighed, closing your laptop and putting away your things. “I should probably head back to my dorm, I have been here for about 12 hours” You chuckled and Tsukishima nodded and began to pack up as well. “I’ll walk you to your dorm.” You paused, looking at him puzzled. “Oh you don’t have to do that, I live all the way in East Village.” He simply waved your concern away “Me too, I have a class at 10 anyway, I should probably stop for the night. You snorted and waited for the blonde to be done before the two of you headed to your dorm building.

The two of you continued to talk about random things on the way back, from music tastes to favorite myths to what tree you would be. You both paused to watch the sunrise at the hill next to your dorm building, watching the colors slowly melt together as the stars disappeared from view. You turned to smile at Tsukishima to find he was already looking at you, an uncharacteristic soft look on his face. You flushed slightly and the two of you continued to your dorm building. You saluted to him before getting off the elevator onto your floor. You glanced at your phone as you got ready for bed, glad you didn’t have any classes until noon.

From that day on you and Tsukishima sat together during your anthropology class and studied together every Friday. You partnered together for the few projects assigned and even hung out outside of class, growing closer as the semester flew by. You were planning on meeting him for lunch after you finished finals, which you just did. You sent him a text and headed to the café the two of you frequent. You ordered a drink and sat at the corner table, scrolling through your phone until Tsukishima arrived. The two of you discussed your finals, and the classes you were taking next semester (you had 2 of them together thankfully) before Tsukishima sighed. “Do you want to get dinner on Saturday?” You smiled nodding, “Yeah! Are there some last minute things you want to go over for a final?” He rolled his eyes and looked at you flatly, which was a normal look for the blonde. “No, like a date.” You stopped, mid-drink as you absorbed his words. When you did you flushed and swallowed, looking away shyly. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” Tsukishima smiled and nodded.

10 years later~

You sighed, wiping your forehead as you straightened up, moving to your phone to change the music blaring from the speakers. It was hot, the hat doing nothing to shield you from the sun as you crouched down again, picking up your trowel. You were about to continue your section of the dig when you heard a noise of surprise from the next section over. “(Y/N)! I think I found something, it looks like bone!”

Your eyes grew wide and you jumped out of the pit into the one a few feet away, joining the college student in looking at what they found. They brushed some more dirt away, revealing a large bone, too large to be human. You groaned, climbing out to grab your phone, disconnecting it from the speaker and dialing a number before stepping away, pout on your face. The college student looked at the other dig lead, confused on why you seemed upset. The dig lead chuckled, waving away their concern. “Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything wrong. (Y/N) just has to call in a paleontologist, and the one on this dig just happens to be an ass.” The college student nodded and climbed out of the pit, not wanting to disturb anything.

Thankfully it wasn’t too long before another car pulled in. You immediately walked over, hands on your hips as you talked to the person getting out. The rest of the crew could see them smirk and flick your forehead, before leaning down to kiss you. The college student made a noise of surprise as the two of you walked over, bumping shoulders and you discussed details of the dig. “Wait, I thought you said she didn’t like them.” The dig lead just shook his head, “I said he was an ass, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t like him, in fact, they’re married.”

[xiyao-feels]

A Comparison of the Stairs Dialogue in CQL vs MDZS, Pt 1

(Pt 2)

A few introductory notes:

-This wasn't intended to be a big project post; I was just doing the comparison because I thought it was interesting. As I went I thought other people would probably find it interesting too, and it would be worth having it all written down, so I did turn it into a post after all. But I'm not really arguing any central point or anything; I'm really just comparing the dialogue and writing down my thoughts as I go.

-This also of course means my usual pro-JGY and consequently very annoyed at NMJ biases are on display. As ever, if this will upset you, please don't read!!

-This is a comparison of the text of the dialogue, not everything about their interaction; I don't necessarily note it if e.g. the acting doesn't match the dialogue tags in MDZS, or what have you.

-To do a proper comparison, you really need to compare the Chinese text, not the English translation; this is what I'm doing, though of course I've included the English from the Youtube subs, for CQL, and from the Exiled Rebels translation for MDZS. (For the Youtube subs I recorded "Yao" as A-Yao and used da-ge instead of Big brother when 大哥 was used and er-ge when 二哥 was used, just because this is my habit when copying down the dialogue.)

-Speaking of which: for MDZS, I just copied from the text, but for the CQL dialogue both English and Chinese I copied down the subs. I don't actually speak Chinese, but fortunately CQL on Youtube has the Chinese subs as well; my reading level in Chinese is also completely terrible, but I can often recognize most or many of the characters, and what I can't I can find by identifying radicals or drawing it in a handwriting recognition thing, etc. I did my best to be careful and thorough, and I also checked it against the Chinese subs I downloaded from Netflix, but there may still be some errors, fair warning. This also means that, unlike the Chinese from MDZS, the CQL Chinese dialogue isn't punctuated beyond spacing it out as it appeared on the screen; this is because the Chinese subs aren't punctuated, and I am certainly not going to make that judgement myself.

-The characters that differ in a given line between the MDZS and CQL versions are bolded, to help make the difference visually clear.

With that aside, the comparison is below the cut.

CQL  

LXC: 阿瑶 大哥他心性不比从前 你千万不要再惹怒他了 他最近深受刀灵侵扰之苦 若不是你日日给他弹清心音的话 恐怕他 A-Yao. Da-ge's temperament is getting worse. Don't ever displease him again. He's been subject to the harassment of his blade lately. If you hadn't been playing Cleansing Music for him everyday, I'm afraid he'd be…  

MDZS  

LXC: 只是一时气愤，口不择言罢了���大哥现在心性不比从前， 你千万不要再惹怒他了。他最近深受刀灵侵扰之苦， 怀桑又和他争吵置气，到今天还没和好。 His anger was simply too great for him to have thought before speaking. Brother’s temper cannot compare to how it was in the past. You must not provoke him again. These past few days, he has been deeply troubled by the saber spirit, and HuaiSang has argued with him again. They still have not made up yet, even today.

I'm comparing the CQL dialogue to the equivalent dialogue in MDZS, but of course in MDZS this exchange isn't before the stairs in ch 49; rather it's part of a broader conversation NMJ hears before he bursts in to try and kill JGY on the spot, because he doesn't like how JGY is talking to LXC about him, in ch 50. (Note, incidentally, how obviously impossible this renders the task of not displeasing da-ge, even aside from his not being satisfied with anything less than Xue Yang's head, as JGY and LXC were having a private conversation at the time.) The mention of NMJ and NHS' falling out is removed, replaced with the information that JGY has been playing to MMJ "every day"; the reference to NMJ calling JGY son of a whore is of course removed, since it hasn't happened yet. One effect of this relocation is on our understanding of LXC's injunction not to "displease him again/provoke him again" (再惹怒他 in both). In MDZS, this seems to refer to the stairs incident where JGY talked back (as the text notes, unusually); here perhaps it might be read as suggesting that JGY somehow has a habit of avoidably displeasing NMJ, which I think is absurd.

However, that's not the only possible interpretation. Although CQL doesn't quite give us the scene mentioned in chapter 30, where NMJ shows up and lectures JGS into announcing XY would be executed (…and heaps abuse on JGY when he tries to intervene, terrifying JGY sufficiently that he hides behind LXC—observe that in the sentence immediately prior to this we are also told that NMJ had unsheathed his sabre), in episode 35 we are told that all the clans wanted to punish XY except for JGS, and given a brief flashback to JGS yelling. Therefore, I think, it's not unreasonable to assume that something like the scene described in ch 30 occurred in CQL. Perhaps LXC is referring to this, although of course JGY would still be held between the fatal opposition of NMJ's and his father's wishes.

It's also relevant of course that in removing the surrounding context, CQL removes the context of the conversation of JGY expressing his pain about how NMJ treats him, and LXC replying, and rather turns it into an apparently unprompted expression of concern on LXC's part.

CQL  

NMJ: 金光瑶 Jin Guangyao!   

MDZS  

-

It's worth noting, I think, that in MDZS NMJ never refers to JGY as "Jin Guangyao" throughout the entire stairs encounter. 

CQL  

LXC: 大哥 怎么了 Da-ge, what's wrong?   

MDZS  

LXC: 大哥 Da-ge?

CQL  

NMJ: 你别动 你出来 (to LXC) Don't move. (to JGY) Come out. 

MDZS  

NMJ: 你别动 你出来 (to LXC) Don't move. (To JGY) Come out.  

CQL  

JGY: 二哥 劳烦你帮我再过一眼 百花宴贵宾的名单 我先去和大哥说点私事 回头再请你讲解 Er-ge, please check the list of guests of the Floral Banquet for me. I need to talk some private affairs with da-ge. I'll explain it to you later.  

MDZS  

JGY: 二哥劳烦你再帮我理一理这条，我先去和大哥说点私事，回头再请你讲解 Brother, could you please help me go through this one? I have some private matters to discuss with our eldest brother. I’ll have to ask for your explanation at a later time. 

Interestingly the exact same sentence in the Chinese, 回头再请你讲解, is translated in CQL as JGY's promise to explain later—where the implication seems to be he'll explain about what he's discussing with NMJ, perhaps?—and in MDZS as JGY's intention to ask /LXC/ to explain (the work he's going over in JGY's absence) later. In MDZS, of course, they're working on the watchtowers…while in CQL host with the most LXC is /helping JGY put his banquet guest lists together/, omg. I wish they'd kept more about the watchtowers but I admit I enjoy this as well. They plan parties together!

In both CQL and MDZS NMJ tries to hit JGY after they are outside and before further words are exchanged.

CQL  

JGY: 大哥 何必如此 有话好说 Da-ge. Why act like this? We can talk nicely, can't we?   

MDZS  

JGY: 大哥，何必如此，有话好说。 Brother, why the rage? Let’s calm down. 

CQL  

NMJ: 薛洋呢 Where is Xue Yang?   

MDZS  

NMJ: 薛洋呢 Where's Xue Yang? 

CQL  

JGY: 他已被关入地牢 终身不释 He's been shut up in the dungeon, for life time.   

MDZS  

JGY: 他已被关入地牢，终身不释…… He’s already been locked inside the dungeon, imprisoned for life… 

CQL  

NMJ: 我当年在不净世是怎么跟你说的 我要他血债血偿 你却给他来个终身不释 What did I tell you in the Yet Clean Realm at that time? I want him to pay his killing debts. You now give him life imprisonment.   

MDZS  

NMJ: 当初你在我面前是怎么说的 (JGY is silent) 我要他血债血偿，你却给他个终身不释？ What did you say to me back then? (JGY is silent) I wanted him to pay blood with blood, yet you have him imprisoned for life? 

"What did you say to me back then" is interesting; we're not actually given a specific time or a specific thing said, which means we must speculate. An obvious candidate for 'back then' would be the ch 30 scene previously mentioned, when NMJ convinces the Jin to announce that they'll execute XY. Yet the Jin giving in on executing XY seems to come /after/ JGY is sufficiently frightened by NMJ that he hides behind LXC, "not daring to say anything else." NMJ is perhaps conflating JGY with JGY's father, or perhaps assigning to JGY an authority he does not in fact possess, as though JGY and not JGS was the person who made decisions for the Jin.

In CQL of course NMJ takes the position that /Jin Guangyao/ owes him obedience because Meng Yao used to be NMJ's servant—not even just that, but that Jin Guangyao must display obedience to orders NMJ gave several years ago, when JGY was MY. This is absurd and insulting, and even before NMJ actually calls him Meng Yao it demonstrates that NMJ does not actually recognize JGY's legitimacy /as/ Jin Guangyao. Honestly, I don't have the words.

CQL  

JGY: 只要他受到惩罚 无法再犯 终身不释和血债血偿也并无 As long as he's punished, and can't recommit crimes, I can't see the difference between life imprisonment and death sentence.    

MDZS  

JGY: 只要他受到惩罚，无法再犯，终身不释与血债血偿也并无…… As long as he receives his punishment and can’t offend again, perhaps paying blood with blood and being imprisoned for life is… 

CQL  

NMJ: 我问你 当年在不净世 究竟是谁放走了薛洋 是我的总领 还是你 Tell me. When we were at Yet Clean Realm, who on earth released Xue Yang? It was my captain, or you?   

MDZS  

NMJ: 你举荐的好客卿，做出的好事情！事到如今你还敢袒护他！ The good things that the good guest cultivator whom you recommended has done! Things are already like this and you still dare defend him! 

Imho, this gets to a central fault in the CQL XY storyline—why the heck is NMJ trying to have XY killed for the Chang killings, instead of for collaborating with the Wen and/or for killing a bunch of his men??????

I tend to put that aside because it doesn't… actually… make any sense at all, especially since CQL NMJ is quite clearly still preoccupied with XY's old crimes.

CQL  

JGY: 我没有 我为什么要放走他 不过当初是当初 现在常萍已经翻供 没有任何明确证据证明 薛洋屠杀了常氏五十人 而我父亲又一定要留下这个人 It wasn't me. Why should I let him go? But the past is in the past, Chang Ping had withdrawn his confession. No certain evidence can prove that Xue Yang had massacred 50 people of Chang clan. And my father insists on keeping him alive.   

MDZS  

JGY: 我没有袒护他，栎阳常氏���件事我也很震惊，我怎会料到薛洋会杀了人全家五十多口人？可我父亲一定要留着这个人…… I didn’t defend him. I was also shocked by the case of the Changyang Yue Sect. How could I have known that Xue Yang would kill more than fifty people? But my father was set on keeping him… 

So—I'm sorry, that in CQL Chang Ping has already withdrawn his testimony makes this completely absurd. In MDZS, that doesn't happen until /after/ NMJ's death, after the Jin have been hounding him! In CQL, the situation appears to be that they have officially condemned him to the dungeons for life /purely based on NMJ's pressure/, with no actual clear evidence at all—and note that unlike in MDZS, where the Chang killings happened like a month beforehand and XXC presents the evidence that it was XY to the assembled clans, in CQL the killings happened /several years ago before a war/ and Songxiao didn't present any evidence it was XY to anyone else at the time that we saw. I mean, they didn't need to because at the time he confessed when challenged,* but it's not at all clear to me what if any evidence is left! And—in this situation where the one surviving victim is publically saying it wasn't XY, and they're /still officially locking him up for life on NMJ's say-so/—NMJ thinks that JGY should nevertheless go and execute XY.

*To an audience that if I am not misremembering included JC, who was alive and a sect leader independent from NMJ and could presumably have been asked to testify at the trial. This doesn't seem to ever be mentioned, however. Again, the CQL XY subplot doesn't make a huge amount of sense.

I can only guess that they moved up the Chang Ping revokes his testimony timeline to emphasize Jin power? But to me it has almost the opposite effect, since if they're still locking XY up on NMJ's say-so it rather suggests /NMJ's/ power; and more to the point it makes NMJ's already frankly unreasonable demand completely and ludicrously absurd.

CQL  

NMJ: 为什么 他身上还有一块阴铁你不知道吗 你把他重新招揽回来 究竟是为了什么你自己心里清楚 Why? Don't you know he's got a shard of Yin Iron on him? You're trying to reclaim him now. I can clearly see what you have in mind.   

MDZS  

NMJ: 震惊？招揽他的是谁？举荐他的是谁？重用他的是谁？少拿你父亲当幌子，薛洋在干什么，你会不知道吗？！ Shocked? Who was the one that invited him? Who was the one that recommended him? Who was the one that regarded him highly? Don’t use your father as excuse. How could you not have known what Xue Yang was doing?! 

English of course doesn't distinguish between plural and singular second-person, but I think it's worth noting that NMJ is using singular here, 你, and not plural. This is true in both CQL and MDZS. In MDZS, I think the problem is that, although he is in fact referring to things JGY individually did, he refuses to accept the truth of JGY's position: that whatever JGY knew or did not know, he can't actually afford to kill XY if that's not what JGS wants. In CQL, by contrast, the problem is that he's locating the desire to obtain the Yin Iron specifically in JGY, despite JGS'…well, JGS' entire everything.

CQL  

JGY: 大哥 真的是我父亲的命令 我无法拒绝 你现在要我处置薛洋 我该怎么去跟他交代 Da-ge, this is really my father's order. I couldn't deny. If you want me to execute Xue Yang now, in which way can I report this to him?    

MDZS  

JGY: 大哥，真的是我父亲的命令。我没法拒绝。你现在要我处置薛洋，你让我怎么跟他交代 Brother, it really was my father’s orders. I couldn’t refuse. Now, if you want me to take care of Xue Yang, what would I say to him? 

The use of 你 vs the more formal 您 throughout this exchange is interesting. In their exchange before JGY goes outside with NMJ, he uses 你 for LXC; here, he uses 你 for NMJ, but you can see throughout the exchange he seems to use both. It would probably be very interesting to go through the text and observe which JGY uses, to whom, and when.

CQL  

-  

MDZS  

NMJ: 不必废话，提薛洋头来见。 There’s no need for explanations. Come back to me with Xue Yang’s head in your hand. 

CQL  

—  

MDZS  

JGY "wanted to speak"

I think the upshot of these exchanges is much the same in CQL and in MDZS, despite its shortening in CQL: NMJ utterly rejects the validity of JGY's desire to give NMJ a /reason/ for going against JGS' explicit wishes, the explicit wishes, I remind you, of a man he has a moral duty to obey as his clan head and father. Truly, we can only imagine how NMJ would react to JGY killing someone against the wishes of the leader of the clan he served because he deserves it in JGY's own moral judgement… Except of course we don't have to imagine it, because it occurs in both CQL and MDZS, albeit differently. It's not that NMJ recognizes as a general principle that subordinates should be allowed to kill people against their leader's wishes if that subordinate judges their victim deserves it; it's simply that he believes in the primacy of his own, obviously righteous judgement. (And in CQL, again, there isn't any actual definite evidence, and Chang Ping has retracted his testimony.)

I think the main things the slightly more extended MDZS version has, not present in CQL, is, first, the explicit visual of XY's head, and second, that NMJ's subsequent response isn't a response to JGY's actual speech; JGY was about to speak in reply, and NMJ responds in irritation to what he thinks JGY is going to say—responds, indeed, by calling him 'Meng Yao'.

(Next)

[haosvteen]

Betcha | lee chan

a/n: i drew a little bit of inspiration for this from ‘betcha’ by baekhyun, so that explains the title!! this is one of my favorite things i’ve written in a long time :) i hope you like it!! <3

college!chan x female!reader

~ - fluff

word count: 2.8k

masterlist

A warm burst of air greets you as you swing open the door of the stone building, looking down at your watch to see how much time was left before your class started. Since there were five minutes until your professor would begin rambling on about motifs in classic literature, you decided to walk down the hall a bit to grab a drink from the vending machine. Your shoes squeaked on the glossy tile floor due to the freshly melting snow you obtained on your walk from your apartment, causing a few students leaning against the walls waiting for their classes to look up at you. Ignoring their looks, you approach the vending machine and swipe your card. Prepared to make a selection, you hear loud laughter coming down the hall on your right. 

Turning your head, you’re met with the image of a group of rambunctious boys joking down the hallway towards you. They were laughing and shouting so loudly that everyone in the building probably heard them. In the center of it all was Lee Chan. Gosh, the way all of his friends were doting over him and hanging onto his every word was enough to make you scoff and shift your focus back onto what drink you’d be choosing from the vending machine. 

You heard several girls whispering to each other saying things like “What I’d do for Lee Chan to just look at me” and “One time he held the door for me at the library, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since”. Hearing them talk like that made you physically ill. He’s just a person, a human being...and he isn’t that special anyway. You’ll admit that he’s attractive, you’d be lying if you said anything other than that. He also is quite intelligent, always earning A’s on his essays in the class you share.  But his personality is just...yuck. The way he never pays attention in class, constantly on his phone texting whatever girl he is baiting that week with no reprimand from the professor. The constant offers from all girls on campus to perform every task and errand for him. The general lack of care for anyone, but himself...he’s not really your favorite individual on campus to say the least. 

Not to mention the way he always tries to one-up you in class. You’ll proudly own up to the fact that you’re a good student, amazing even. You pay attention, never miss a class, and raise your hand almost always to answer any question the professor throws your way. But every time, Chan just has to go and say the exact same answer as you, just in a better way. Of course, causing him to receive all the praise from your professor and earning an adoring gaze from the girls in the class. There are no words to describe how much this infuriates you. Especially the cocky smirk he throws your way after the professor says, “Great answer, Chan, I couldn’t have said it better myself!”. 

As the frustration due to your thoughts grew, you were ripped away as someone leaned up against the vending machine, mere inches from where you were standing. Speak of the devil. 

“Hey, Y/N, ready for class today?” Chan asks you, with that same cocky smirk on his face that you’ve, unfortunately, grown so used to seeing. As if the sight of his lips raising is a trigger for you, a fire starts deep within you, annoyance, and frustration growing every second you’re in his presence. Rolling your eyes, you ignore him and raise your hand to press the button on the machine and finally make your selection. Before you had the chance for your finger to collide with the plastic, Chan beat you to it and pressed the glowing white button for mint tea.

Speechless, you simply scoffed and looked at him with wide eyes, not believing he just did that. Who does that?! “Take it easy, babe. Don’t act so offended, you know you were going to get mint tea anyway. You get it almost every day before class,” Chan says casually, leaning his head back against the machine, chewing the gum in his mouth with a smile.

As much as you hate to admit it to yourself, he was right. You were going to get the mint tea, it’s your favorite...and it’s a little weird that he knew that. Just to spite him, you respond, “Actually, I was going to get strawberry milk today, but I guess I’ll have to settle for this instead since you took it upon yourself to decide for me”. The annoyance in your voice was evident, but if Chan noticed, he didn’t let it show on his face. He leans down and grabs the bottle of tea out of the machine, not breaking eye contact with you the whole time. The tension could be cut with a knife and you knew his group of friends standing several feet away and the group of girls gawking at you both could feel it as well.

Standing up, he extends the bottle towards you saying, “Then let me make it up to you then” with yet another cocky smirk, paired his eyes trailing your body up and down. Your face twists into a look that says ‘That was the cringiest thing I’ve ever heard, also I am incredibly grossed out’. 

“Uh, no thanks,” you say, grabbing the mint tea from his hand and walking down the hallway, hearing his friends teasing him by saying, “Oooo” and no doubt giving him joking punches on the shoulder. 

Your mind was a scrambled mess from the interaction you just had. Who does he think he is? Does he think every girl on this campus is begging for his attention?! In all honesty, you wish he would just ignore you so you wouldn’t have to deal with his antics and casual flirtation. It infuriates you to no end and quite honestly keeps you up at night thinking about how he believes he runs this campus. 

Making your way into the classroom, you quickly slide into your unassigned-assigned seat in the front row, trying to pull out your notebook and pen all while attempting to organize your thoughts and irritation about whatever that conversation was you just had. You let out a large sigh as you flip to the next open page in your notebook and the professor begins class, giving you a scolding look for the huff of air you let out to express your exasperation. As you begin to jot down some general notes about what the prof is saying, you notice he who must not be named enters the classroom.

 “Oh, Chan! I’m glad you could make it,” your professor cheerily says as Chan saunters in.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Chan responds, flashing a bright smile. This causes yet another heavy breath to leave you as you shake your head at your professor’s naivety and how simple it is for him to be charmed. You realize Chan is making his way over to pass you in order to find his own seat. Looking down at your notebook to continue taking writing and ignoring the close proximity of your least favorite person, you notice something is slid onto your desk as he walks by.

Strawberry milk.

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your face. You quickly grab it, tossing it into your backpack, hoping no one saw. Confusion and shock flood your head as you simply stare at the board in front of you. What was his goal with that? Probably another one of his flirtation tactics, no doubt. Did that actually work on other girls?! The bar is so low, apparently. You turn around to hopefully catch Chan’s gaze and give him a confused and weirded out expression, but when you turn around he’s simply leaned back in his chair, listening to the professor, seemingly bored out of his mind. You know he knows you’re looking at him and is just refusing to meet your eyes. Narrowing your eyes at him, you whip your head back around to focus on the lecture. There is no way you were going to let Lee Chan of all people distract you.

As the class was drawing to a close, your professor announced, “I’m trying something new for the final this semester. Instead of taking an exam, as students have done in the past, I’m going to be placing you into groups to complete a presentation”. He was met with groans from students like you who would just prefer to study on their own and get it over with by taking a test, but there were also silent celebrations from students who think that a group project means less work for them. However, only one thought was racing through your mind:

Do not put me with Lee Chan.

“I will go ahead and read off who your partners are, then you will be dismissed. The directions for this assignment will be posted on our class website later tonight and we’ll discuss it more next time we meet. Well, I won’t keep you waiting”, he explains and begins to read off the names. It’s embarrassing to admit but you were literally hiding your hands in your sleeves and crossing your fingers that you wouldn’t be paired with Chan. It might seem dramatic and a drastic measure to take. He can’t be that bad, right? Wrong. You’d heard rumors about his poor work ethic in group projects. That combined with his overall playboy aura is not a good match for you. 

“Lee Chan and Y/N Y/L/N,” your professor says. It’s like your mind is frozen. Of course, this would happen to you. Just your luck. You didn’t even pay attention to the final words your professor had to say before wrapping up class because you were dreading having to do an entire project all by yourself.

As you closed your notebook and began to pack away your things, you felt someone standing near you. With a sigh, you look up knowing exactly who it is.

There he was, standing with his hands in his jean pockets and that cocky smirk making yet another appearance. Rolling your eyes, you sling your backpack over your shoulder and stand up, grabbing your phone.

“What’s your number?” you bluntly ask, not so much as a question and more of a demand.

“Oh, how the tables have turned,” Chan says with a laugh, grabbing your phone to enter his number in. His fingertips grazed your hand as he gently took it from your grasp. You’d never admit that it made your heart skip a beat or two, though.

He finishes typing in his number and as he is handing your phone back, he suggests, “Let’s get lunch or something to talk about the project”. You started walking away from him halfway through his sentence, causing him to trail off at the end. 

“No,” you call out as you walk out of the classroom. “I’ll text you.”

Not going to lie, you kind of felt like a badass. Chan deserved a taste of his own medicine and you’re just the lucky person who gets to give it to him. 

You make your way to a local coffee shop a little way down the road, mentally preparing to deal with customers and make beverages until the late hours of the night. Entering the backroom to set your things down and tie your apron on, making your way out to behind the counter to begin your workday.

The hours dragged on and on, filled with heating up pastries and making cappuccinos until it was 10:30pm and there were only thirty minutes left until close. There were a few people in the shop, working on their laptops, or having a chat with a friend. It was around this time of night, you started to clean up behind the counter and prepare everything for those who open the store the next morning.

You bent down to grab a square bucket from under the counter and a damp rag, heading over to clear off several tables from customers who had recently left. As you’re placing some plates into the bucket, you hear the doorbell jingle, signaling that someone has entered.

“One moment, I’ll be with you in-” you begin, but look up to see Chan. You suck in a sharp breath of air as he walks toward you with that damn smirk on his face. You continue to gather the dishes from the table, hoping that maybe he would just go wait by the register. Wishful thinking on your part as he comes over puts a hand on the table, leaning on it and tilting his head to get a better look at you.

“What do you want, Chan?” you monotonously say, not drifting your attention from clearing the table.

“Well, I tried texting you, but you didn’t respond,” he explains.

“Uh, yeah because I’m working,” you respond matter-of-factly. You finish wiping down the table and lift up the bucket to go over to the next table. Chan takes the bucket from your hands and you look at him with the most confused expression, but he just motions for you to go on to the next table. You shake your head in more confusion, but accept it and go on with him trailing behind you, hauling the heavy bucket of dishes.

“Yeah, that’s why I came here,” he continues the conversation as he sets the bucket down on the next table. You stop cleaning and look at him with yet another confused expression. How does he even know you work here? He must have been able to tell what you were thinking by the look on your face because he says, “I like coming here and I see you here, so”. 

No matter how weirded out or confused you were, you carried on, “Why did you even need to talk to me in the first place?”

“Oh, I already have our presentation outlined and in a PowerPoint. We just have to do some research and put it all together,” he casually says. You don’t know who said that he has a poor work ethic in group projects, but apparently, they were wrong. 

“Thanks,” you respond simply and head back behind the counter, with Chan following you yet again. 

“We’re meeting on Thursday at 4:00 to finish it,” he says as he lifts the glass cake stand and grabs a blueberry muffin, starting to dig in. 

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “Thursday doesn’t work for me. I also hope you’re planning on playing for that”.

“Oh, no, I figured it was on the house,” he sarcastically teases. You give him a stern gaze and he continues, “Of course I’m going to pay for it, I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything”. You don’t know why, but that made you kind of...blush. And you hoped he didn’t see.

“Anyway, why can’t you do Thursday?” he casually says, still picking chunks off of the muffin and eating them.

“I have plans, Chan. News flash: the world doesn’t revolve around you,” you retort as you begin to clean the coffee machines.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s your world, I’m just living in it,” he says as if it didn’t mean anything. What did it mean? It’s not like people just say that casually. At least you’ve never heard people say that about people casually. You barely had any time to think more about it when you heard him say a little quieter, “Do you have a date or something on Thursday?”

Your heart began to race...and what for?? Was he...jealous? Why would he be asking if you had a date? Why would he care? “No, I don’t have a date,” you respond. At that, you see Chan’s head perk up.

“Okay, well how about Wednesday, then? I could do like...5:00?” he says.

“Yeah, that works,” you reply, looking towards him and giving him a small smile. A facial expression you never thought you’d be giving Lee Chan. There was just something about the way his eyes lit up...and that damn smirk…

“Alright, then,” he says while reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bill, placing it on the counter to pay for the muffin he took. Making his way to the front of the shop to exit, he turned around to say, “It’s a date”. 

And there you are, left a blushing mess behind the counter. Waiting for Wednesday at 5:00.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Strawberry Cream and BBQ - 4

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

Overview: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected.

Word Count: 2,973

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Future smut, Angst, Best friends to Lovers

Warning: Angst, angst baby

Surprise Update. In honor of reaching 1,000 followers, here’s an early update. I hope y’all enjoy!

Master List

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 (Final) - Move in Day: A SC&BBQ Drabble

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

It was a ritual for you and Hoseok at this point. Every time you went to Munchies, you both got the same exact thing, and depending on the day you sometimes added to it. For Hoseok, it was two scoops of vanilla ice cream with peanut butter in a waffle cone and rainbow sprinkles. You got two scoops of the triple chocolate fudge ice cream in a dish with M&M pieces and chocolate syrup.

The first time you took Hoseok with you to Munchies, he had been confused after you ordered, a peculiar look on his face as he looked at you. It wasn’t until you were sitting that he asked why you didn’t get strawberry ice cream.

“I actually don’t like strawberries,” you answered, taking that moment to have a bite of your ice cream.

He was already in the middle of licking the side of his cone when you confessed, making his eyes widen. “But…but your scent. It’s strawberry cream.”

You pointed your spoon at him, nodding in agreement. “I know,” you spoke after swallowing. “I think it’s because of the shampoo and conditioner I use. They’re strawberry cream scented and I always use them. It’s my favorite.”

Hoseok’s mouth had dropped open a little, but nodded in understanding. “That does make sense then. If you use something like that so much, it kinda molds to your natural scent in a way.”

That had been three years ago and according to Hoseok, even if you did run out of that specific shampoo and conditioner and had to make do with another type, you still smell of strawberry cream.

“Thank you, Strawberry,” Hoseok said as the two of you sat down in your booth. It was in your opinion, the best seat in the building. It was against the wall in-between two other booths, which meant you got to watch who came in and out of Munchies. Sometimes you’d try and put together stories for whoever walked in for the fun of it. Hoseok liked giving them superhero powers and you wondered what secrets they could be hiding.

“You don’t need to thank me,” you said, taking another bite of your ice cream, this time smaller so you could speak again. “If it weren’t for you, I would be here all alone.”

He rolled his eyes, waiting for you to clean your spoon off the ice cream that was on it to take it. Without even asking, he scooped some of the peanut butter off his and spread it onto your desert.

When he first started doing that, you kept on telling him that he didn’t need too, but he ignored you. He liked switching it up though, either holding out the cone for your take a bite or scooping it with your spoon. “You were already doing that before I came along.”

“And that made me realize I was simply waiting for you to come and join me.”

Hoseok laughed, handing you back the spoon so you could continue eating. “You lived a sad life before me Strawberry.”

“Not sad,” you pointed out, spreading the peanut over your ice cream more so it wasn’t just in one spot. “Just different. Why do you always gotta give me some of the peanut butter?”

He simply shrugged, taking a bite out of the waffle cone this time. He was a fast eater and so he was always halfway done with his treat before you were even made a noticeable dent in yours. “I love it, but they always put on a little too much for me.”

“Then why don’t you ask for less?”

“Because you love peanut butter but refuse to get it on your ice cream, because then you’ll feel bad about binging out on all these sweets at once. Honestly, you shouldn’t feel bad about it. Ice cream is supposed to make you happy, not sad. Besides it’s not like we’re here every day. More like once a month really.”

Your mouth dropped open, blinking as you simply stared at you. If anything, you thought it would be a short answer along the lines of, ‘because you like peanut butter so why waste it.’ It wasn’t though.

Vaguely you could remember him asking you why you just didn’t get it after noticing you staring at it one time. That had been an embarrassing moment for you. Staring at someone else’s food was not creepy or weird at all. It wasn’t all your fault though. You had a major sweet tooth that resulted in you binging on sweets more times than you would like to admit. The fact that he remembered you telling him this, it made you feel warm on the inside.

When he sensed a shift in your emotions - your strawberry scent becoming a little sweeter - Hoseok raised an eyebrow as he looked at you while licking his ice cream. It was a silent question but you just shook your head instead and focused on yours. He was quick to notice the soft smile that appeared on your face, but didn’t mention it. Instead, he silently took a moment to admire how shy and happy you looked. Shy wasn’t usually a word he’d typically used to describe you. He had broken any barriers that had been up the first day he met you.

This…this was different though. And he couldn’t remember the last time your scent turned this sweet. It wasn’t overpowering or sickly sweet, but it was like the feeling you might have after eating your favorite candy for the first time in months of not having it. It also reminded him of that moment when he wakes up in the morning and his blankets were just perfectly warm, and he didn’t want to get out of bed.

Hoseok couldn’t remember the last time someone’s scent made him feel that way. Whatever it was that was making him feel this way though, he liked it.

 The ride back to your apartment was quick and quiet this time. But this was because Hoseok was immersed in his phone, checking his messages and social media in-case Sue had sent a text or posted some pictures. His leg shook and he was chewing on his bottom lip in a nervous manner.

You let him go about his search. He wouldn’t relax until he had some form of contact from Sue telling him she was okay. By the time you pulled into your parking lot, Hoseok had checked and rechecked his phone more times than you can count. Killing the engine, you looked over at him, waiting to see if he noticed where he was.

It took a few minutes, but he blinked as he glanced at you, then around his surroundings. A faint blush appeared on his cheeks as he put away his phone and murmured a sorry.

“Can we go inside now and get out of the cold?” You teased, tugging on your hat and gloves.

Hoseok adjusted his jacket and regrettably put on his hat, his ears flattening to make it fit properly. Usually he went without it but your parking spot was the furthest away from the building entrance. It sucked, but it was something you learned to suck up.

“Why can’t we park closer?” Hoseok whined, slinging his bags over both shoulders. You had grabbed his suitcase and was wheeling it behind you.

“Because that’s my assigned parking space,” you gently explained. The wheels from the suitcase rattling against the pavement.

“But it’s so far away. And it’s so cold.”

“It’s only a few minutes Hobi.”

The hybrid pouted as he faithfully followed you to the sidewalk, the wheels suddenly gliding now. “It’s still cold.”

You rolled your eyes and in a matter of minutes the two of you were inside the elevator going up to your apartment. Hoseok didn’t wait to take his hat off, as soon as he was inside the living room the grey knit beanie was off and his ears were free.

“Better?” you asked, amused with his reactions.

“Good God yes.”

“Alright. Need me to show you to your room?”

Hoseok gave you, the look, as if he couldn’t believe that you just asked him that. The apartment was small but this wasn’t his first time here. It wouldn’t surprise you if he was able to smell his own scent lingering around from the last time he came over. “I think I can handle it from here. But thank you.”

Without even a struggle, he picked up his suitcase and maneuvered his way into the spare room. Last night you had cleaned it up for him, dusting the dresser and nightstand and putting on clean sheets. You even got out his favorite blankets that he loved to curl up with. They were heavy blankets that were soft to the touch along with a few others that your mother had knitted. It was the comfort of home that got him excited every time.

The squeal that came from the room informed you that Hoseok found the blankets.

Hoseok came out of his room sooner than you expected. Typically, he spent at least one weekend out of the month at your apartment - it was always so casually mentioned by Colin to Sue that they needed some time to themselves without Hoseok – and would take the time to unpack his clothes into the dresser and set his belongings out even if it was just for two days.  

“It smells different.” He announced, frowning as he walked over to where you stood by the closet hanging up your jacket.

You sniffed once but didn’t smell anything different. If anything, you could still smell the buttercream scented candle you had burning earlier that morning as you got ready. “Different how?”

His nose crinkled as he walked around, sniffing every few steps. “Like someone else has been here. A hybrid specifically.” He came to a halt at your couch, bending over the arm only to stand straight up; his face contorting and a low territorial growl emitted from his chest. There had only been a few other times you heard Hoseok growl like that.

The first time had been a couple months after Sue adopted him. Taehyung, one of your friends who was also a hybrid, had been horsing around with Sue, and Hoseok had seen him grab her arm. His natural instincts to protect her instantly came out when he released the warning growl. When he realized they were only playing, he felt guilty. He had to train himself to not react so severely when their friends were around. After that, the only other times you heard him growl was when he was with you. He sometimes would do it to tease you, but it wasn’t an all the time thing.

“Who’s been here?” Hoseok slowly asked, his jaw clenching as he waited.

Blinking, you ran a hand through your hair as you thought back, trying to remember who’s been over in the last month or so. “I don’t recall,” you slowly answered. “Our friends but that was a couple months ago Hoseok.”

He shook his head though, his upper lip curling up into a snarl. “No. It’s not any of them. It smells of ferret and none of our friends are that breed of hybrid.”

“Ferret?” You repeated, this time frowning. Ferret hybrids had been considered one of the more exotic breeds but over time they fell into the domestic category.

Hoseok nodded, pacing around the living room, his attention going to your bedroom door. You never shut it but as he headed towards your room, you suddenly wondered why he was being like this. Then most importantly, if you had picked up the clothes that you had thrown around while trying to come up with an outfit this morning.

Totally normal thoughts of course.

Hybrids that you knew raced through your head as you tried to figure out who it could be that triggered Hoseok. Why would the scent be going into your bed…your cheeks flushed as that night quickly came to mind.

It suddenly became clear who he was smelling. It had been a blur but you remembered, or at least, parts of it. Johnny had been in one of your classes, he was a sweet guy who flirted with everyone, but no one gave it much thought. It was just part of his personality; he was harmless. When you first met him, you didn’t even realize he was a hybrid. His ears were small and easily concealed when he grew out his hair or wore hats, and he tended to tuck his tail under his shirt. He said it amused him when people realized he wasn’t human.

What had been a day meant to hang out and study for an upcoming test in your Literature class, took a turn for the worst. At least for Johnny it did. His previous owners had put him on medication for his heats and so he hadn’t experienced one in years. Now that his new owners decided to take him off it, he had been hit with a situation that he didn’t know how to handle. You on the other hand, while you weren’t a hybrid, you weren’t stupid. With the knowledge from your Hybrid 101 class - and stories from your other hybrid friends - you knew what was happening, and because you absolutely hated seeing anyone in pain, offered to help in any way possible.

Johnny had accepted without hesitation.

Hoseok’s growls echoed in your apartment as he breathed in deeply upon entering your bedroom where it was the strongest. His chest heaved as the other man’s scent invaded his nostrils. The sound of your racing heart hit him first before you timidly called his name, your guilt and embarrassment crashing into him.

“Who is he?” He harshly growled, his tail swishing back and forth in agitation as his hybrid instincts became the best of him.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. It had been a month ago. You didn’t think the scent would have lasted that long. “A friend from one of my classes.” You whispered, staring down at the floor.

Hoseok saw red as he turned to face you. “You mated with a ferret?”

The way he said it made it seem like an insult as you quickly shook your head and met his gaze. “No Hoseok. Johnny didn’t mark me at all, I promise. He’s never experienced a heat before…he was going to be in so much pain and I didn’t want him to suffer.” You couldn’t remember the last time Hoseok had been so angry, he was usually happy and went with the flow. Even with Colin he never acted out. This was a side to him you never knew existed.

He stared down at you, having the advantage since he was a good head taller than you. While your explanation made sense, and he knew you were free to make the choice to be with whoever you wanted, he couldn’t help these emotions that were overwhelming him. With your sweet scent filling his senses and the lingering scent of, Johnny, he was unable to think straight. He didn’t even understand why he was acting like this in the first place; he just was.

Hoseok growled in frustration, roughly running a hand through his hair. He needed to get rid of this scent. Staring at you, he suddenly moved towards you, tightly wrapping his arms around you and buried his face in your hair to breathe you in.

You were frozen. Your mind raced as you tried to think of something to say or do to make this better for him. Nothing came to mind though. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t speak. Instead, he breathed you in until all he could smell was strawberry cream. With a shaky breath, he relaxed enough to lean back, the animalistic side calmed down to a point that allowed him to think. “Open the windows, just enough to get air circulation.” He spoke, his voice low and devoid of emotion. With one last sniff, he moved around you and walked into the living room and started to promptly open the windows.

You watched him move with stiff movements, having an idea as to what he was doing. To help relax him, you slipped on a sweater but went around to the rest of the rooms and opened the remaining windows. When you reentered the living room, he was sitting on the couch, shifting around every now and then. He gave a quick sniff and his face scrunched up again.

Hoseok was scenting your apartment.

With a glance in your direction, his eyes softened as he took in the way you tugged your sweater tighter around your body and the worry in your eyes. He whined a little, conflicted with how he was going to explain his actions. How was he to do that when he didn’t understand it himself? If he didn’t get rid of the ferret’s scent it was going to drive him nuts.

To an extent, you did understand. The rival smell of another man in your apartment, especially one he didn’t know, tugged at his natural instincts. But usually that only happened when a hybrid was romantically linked to the female. Hoseok wasn’t. Sure, he sometimes got a little protective of you when someone new came along, but he was like that with all of your friends.

“I’m gonna make us some coffee,” you softly spoke. “You do what you need to.”

You waited until he nodded, watching as he stretched out on the couch. Walking into the kitchen, you filled the kettle with water and was turning the stove on to heat it, taking a deep breath of your own.

Hoseok was your best friend. That was it.

[amyscascadingtabs]

i want something that lasts forever (so kiss me on this cold december night)

(christmas fics christmas fics christmas fics!!! this is part one of six i’ll hopefully be publishing throughout december, stay tuned)

december, 2013

“So how are you celebrating Christmas?”

His fingers are tapping against the steering wheel, creating an incessant but uneven beat as soundtrack to their thus far uneventful three a.m. stakeout. Taylor Swift’s Speak Now is stuck halfway inside the car’s cd player and won’t play, to Jake’s dismay and Amy’s elation, so it’s silence or finger-drumming.

Obviously he chose finger-drumming. It’s only one of his many talents.

Index finger, middle finger, ring finger. Tap, tap, tap.

“Christmas?”

“Yeah, Christmas.” She leans back in her seat, fidgeting with the plastic lid to the bright red takeaway cup which a little over two hours ago contained substandard coffee from a sketchy coffee shop slash sandwich bar they happened to drive past. “You know, the holiday that’s coming up in three days.”

“My mom’s Jewish, Santiago.”

“I know. I just thought - what do you do for Christmas? Any traditions? I’ve just - I never asked.”

“It depends”, he huffs, continuing the rhythmic tapping. “I have lunch with my mom, usually. Charles invites me every year, but Christmas celebrations with the Boyles takes a mental strength few non-Boyles can generate, so I’ve only been once. I’ve celebrated with Gina a bunch, too.”

“Gina’s going on a cruise this year”, Amy informs him, like he wasn’t already aware. (Fine, okay, he wasn’t - he only remembered Gina telling him the celebrations wouldn’t be happening this year - but Santiago doesn’t need to know that.)

“I know, which is why I’m planning to watch Die Hard and eat mayo-nut spoonsies for the whole evening.” He swallows the last of his now-cold coffee, throwing the cup in the plastic bag Amy insisted they use for trash as to, quote unquote, prevent the inside of the vehicle looking like a cross-breed between a garbage dump and the apartment of someone who collects empty Cheetos-bags for a profession. “It’s going to be awesome.”

“It sounds pretty tragic, honestly.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

There’s a sudden movement at the edge of the street, a person walking towards the exact building they’re watching, and he dives for the binoculars while Amy leans almost over him to see better. Someone halts outside the door, nothing but their silhouette visible at this distance, and he’s about to suggest they leave a car to get a closer look when the nearby malfunctioning street light blinks to life and reveals what appears to be an older lady walking her dog.

“This is bullshit”, Amy groans, snatching the binoculars from his grip. “Handoff was supposed to go down twenty minutes ago.”

“You eager to catch a criminal or something?” He grins, knowing all too well that she is - it’s less than a month left of their bet and he’s currently leading with three arrests. “Because I, for one, am incredulously happy no criminal business is going down in our city. Shame on you, Santiago.”

She gives him a poisonous glare in response. “Ha. Ha.”

“I’m just saying, you better get ready for the worst date of your life. Get a sitter for your cats and whatnot.”

“I don’t have cats, Peralta.” She hands him the binoculars, reaching instead for her notepad and pen to make a note of the dog-walker, just to be sure. “I do have pet fish, though”, she mumbles with the lid in her mouth as she writes.

“Ouch. Lame.”

“Didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Consider it charity”, he retorts, and she rolls her eyes before popping the lid back on the pen and balancing it between her thumb and index finger. For someone who fidgets so much Rosa once claimed he may as well have invented the word, it’s a relief to Jake to see that Amy does it too. Sometimes it’s down to nerves and anxiety, other times it’s simple boredom. It’s oddly endearing to him.

If her competitiveness hadn’t annoyed him half to death every other workshift, if she’d been slightly less of a hopeless besserwisser and know-it-all and he’d seen her in anything but a tolerant, friendly light, he might have described her as pretty in this moment. The semi-darkness makes her features appear all the more intriguing somehow, shadow framing her cheeks and illumination from street lamps outside giving her eyes a distinctive shine, but she’s also in the state he finds her the most likable. Not quite hyper-focused and not quite in an anxious frazzle, but rather somewhere in between. In control yet relaxed. Up for a joke yet making sure they’re on track with their assigned tasks. She purses her lips, continues twirling the pen, and he looks away before her sharp detective-eyes inevitably catch him staring.

“What about you?”

“Huh?” Amy flinches, dropping the pen. “What about what?”

“How do you celebrate Christmas? I never asked about your plans, or whatever.”

“I celebrate with all of my family”, she says with a smile. “Parents, brothers, their families, uncles and aunts. Lots of amazing food, lots of spending time together, lots of everything.”

He can’t help but grimace. “Sounds disgusting.”

She sticks her tongue out at him, ignoring the professionality she so desperately seeks now when they’re not being watched. “What do you have against Christmas anyway? Because you don’t have to be such a scrooge about it. People just want to be happy.”

“Not a big fan of big family traditions, if you recall.”

“Maybe one day you’ll have your own family with traditions. And, you know, not hate every single joyous occasion.”

Jake snorts, adjusting the straps of his hoodie. “I doubt that.”

“Whatever. I was trying to be nice.”

“I know.”

They both go silent, and he has half a mind to abandon his current clenching and unclenching of his fists to start tapping his fingers against the steering wheel once again before his phone lights up with a text message to inform him the release team is almost there and they’re allowed to finish their shift.

Twenty minutes later they’re back outside the precinct, ready to get in their own cars and drive home for the night. He’s just about to open the car door when he hears her shout his name.

“Yeah?” She jogs up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to make him turn around.

“You know - you could celebrate with my family - if you’d want to? No one should be alone on Christmas”, she breathes, and she’s so close and there’s such a genuinity to the way she says it that for a split second, he considers taking her up on the offer.

It’s too much, though. He’s never met a single member of her family before, detests feeling like an intruder, considers Die Hard and mayo-nut spoonsies a near ideal Christmas tradition anyway.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay”, she shrugs, backing. “Well, I hope you have a good Christmas anyway, Peralta.”

Snowflakes begin to fall right as she’s walking away, white stars getting caught in the tips of her hair, making it glitter.

“Merry Christmas, Santiago”, he whispers, but she’s too far away to hear.

[xmanicpanicx]

One of the most important rules of writing: show, don’t tell

In my Writer’s Craft class in my senior year of high school, I had to write about a vacation I had taken. I know that sounds very third-grade, but my instructor told me that if I were to write about a vacation, I really had to make it my own, make it unique — it couldn’t just be a week-long vacay to the Caribbean where I did nothing but sit on the beach.

“What made this vacation special?” my teacher asked me.

“It didn’t always feel like a vacation,” I joked. “It was me, my two grandparents, my aunt and uncle, and my two cousins, plus our luggage crammed into a nine-seat van. We drove all over Italy like that.”

He smiled at me. “You just made it your own.”

Now I had to do it justice, which was no easy feat, especially when I only had a couple pages to work with. My piece got good reception from the class and my teacher for the most part. But one line I wrote was that my family and I took “cheesy tourist pictures.” When my classmates raised their hands to give their critiques, one girl said to me, “Cheesy tourist pictures… I don’t really know what that means.” At first, I thought, Pffft. Everyone knows what a cheesy tourist picture is.

That’s not entirely true, though, is it?

Because “cheesy tourist picture” is a broad, general term. Sure, most people probably get the concept of a cheesy tourist picture, but not the exact image. And the exact image, or damn near close to it, is crucial in creative writing. A cheesy tourist picture could mean zillions of different things. There are so many different combinations of monuments, tourists, meme poses, and so on.

So what was my particular cheesy tourist picture? Well, my family and I were at the Leaning Tower of Pisa, and we saw dozens of people posing as if they were holding up the tower, keeping it from toppling over. My uncle had the idea for my two cousins and I to line up before the tower in order of height. I was the tallest, so I was closest to the tower. He told me to put my hands up and push toward the tower like it was about to collapse on me, then told my younger cousin to push against my back like he was helping me, and then told my youngest cousin to push against his back to help him. The result was that, from the correct angle, the three of us looked like we were struggling to hold the tower up together. And I should have described that when I wrote this writer’s craft assignment. I should have made it my own.

Of course, I was working with a word limit at the time, which makes it difficult to describe an entire vacation in detail. But in real life, we don’t use such strict word limits in our creative writing. Chances are that our work will be longer than the two single-spaced pages I was allowed for the assignment.

So don’t gloss over important details with “telling” statements. Show the reader what’s going on. Make it play out in their mind like they’re watching it on the big screen or, better yet, in person.

How can you do this?

By using the five senses and concrete nouns in your descriptions.

A concrete noun is something you can process with at least one of your five senses. An abstract noun, on the other hand, is just something you understand intellectually. Examples include emotions like sadness and happiness.

But we don’t just understand happiness and sadness, you might say. We feel them.

Yes, indeed we do. We feel the physical sensations that go with them. We feel the effects that they have on our bodies and minds. That’s where the meat is. For example, if you want to portray that someone is nervous, don’t just write “So and so felt nervous.” Write the churning of their stomach. Write their cold, numb, tingly skin. Write their shortness of breath or their feelings of lightheadedness. This is how you make a reader feel alongside your character. Emotions may be almost universally understood, but that doesn’t mean that when people read the words “sad,” “happy,” or “nervous,” they’ll automatically feel those things. It’s easy to become detached from commonplace words, so our job as writers is to bring what those words represent to life for our readers.

It is so, so tricky to write emotion in a way that shows rather than tells, especially because writing emotions vividly can bring us to some pretty dark places. It’s something that we, as writers, might always have to struggle with.

However, there are some other things that are easier to show, such as appearance and action.

Writers often love to describe the way someone or something looks, so chances are you’re already in pretty good shape for this. Just in case, though, I’ll tell you that you need specifics. For example, don’t just write “So and so looked awful.” Awful how? Like they’ve been up all night tossing and turning? Describe their baggy, bloodshot eyes. Have they just gotten into a fight? Give a brief rundown of their bruises and cuts. Was it just a botched makeover? That’s hilarious. Describe what makes that makeover horrible.

In terms of action, I’ll give you another true-to-life example. Someone I had a Creative Writing class with (this person will remain anonymous) tried to describe a two-person fall through the wooden planks of a porch. But that’s basically all the detail they gave about it. That and “This character got the brunt of it.”

“What do you mean by ‘got the brunt of it’?” I asked this person in class. What part of the body, how badly? It could have meant that the character was knocked unconscious, broke a limb, or got a huge cut lined with splinters. Or it could simply have meant that Character One got the worst of the fall because Character Two fell on top of them — Character Two gets a nice, soft human body to land on, but Character One hits all the wood and solid ground underneath and has to deal with the bones and weight of Character Two landing on them. The story in question had great dialogue, but it was also a slapstick comedy, so showing techniques really needed to be present.

Here’s a good exercise to practice showing instead of telling: Any time you’re tempted to write a general or abstract statement, instead brainstorm ten ways you could make this statement visual, tangible, auditory, or otherwise concrete. What, specifically, does happiness (for instance) feel like for the five senses and in terms of internal bodily sensations? What does someone say or do when they feel happy? Feel free to make these actions and quirks specific to your character.

Be careful not to overdo it, though. Describing something in too much detail is as much of a turnoff as describing it in too little detail. A reader should not have to plow through more description than is truly necessary to get the image and feeling of the scene into their mind. It will pull them out of the story just as surely as plain telling text that is dead on the page. Keep descriptions concise.

Let’s go back to the “So and so looked awful” example. If you specifically want to convey that this person looks like they’ve been up all night, you could just say, “So and so’s eyes were baggy and bloodshot, her hair tangled like brambles around her head.” Don’t go writing, “So and so’s eyes had multiple little rivers of red snaking through their whites, and they were puffy underneath like hot air balloons. One lock of her hair fell in a scraggly curl down her face, another lock was tucked back, barely held in place by her ear, while yet another stuck out from the side of her head like a protruding tongue, etc., etc.” That is WAY too much. It’s okay to leave some of the image up to the imagination. That’s part of the fun of reading after all. The challenge of writing is finding that perfect middle ground — not dull, but not dialed up to 11 either.

One final note: It doesn’t matter which point of view you’re writing from, from first-person to third-person omniscient (meaning the narrator knows all). Showing just the right amount is always important. If you don’t immerse your reader in the story to the point where they feel like they’re experiencing it themselves, you may lose their attention, and you’ll have a hard time getting it back.

[t0ngue-tech]

Within Reach

↠flufffff, collegeAU, pianist!yoongi↞

word count: 6.3k

↠oneshot↞

a/n: hey demons. it’s me. ya girl. this is a BELATED bday gift for yoongi LOL. i know it’s not All Yours but i hope you enjoy it anyways :D 

“Jimin, you’re telling me that Yoongi—Yoongi—knows how to play the piano?” You exclaimed whilst emptying a small packet of sugar into your cup of coffee.

“Yeah. He’s been playing since forever-ever.” Jimin took a large bite out of his breakfast burrito and spoke in muffled sentences. “His mother has a small music academy for vocal training and instrument lessons.”

You scrunched your nose at the way your friend chewed his food, but nodded politely.

It was a beautiful spring morning, so it was decided that you and Jimin were going to have breakfast under a tree somewhere on campus. Being a creative writing major, there was one thing you were lacking in that moment: creativity. You had a paper that was due in three weeks and just like many college students, you didn’t start it yet. There was a pit of creativity inside of you that was begging to bloom, but you were having a difficult time trying to water it.

Jimin suggested that you learn something new to spark something inside of you, specifically learning to play an instrument. The idea didn’t sound so bad. It gave you the idea to write about the beauty of playing an instrument and how it’s an art form in itself. But again, the only problem you were facing was that you were a broke college student and you couldn’t afford to pay for lessons. Thankfully, Jimin dropped some news on you that was a bit shocking.

Your mutual friend, Min Yoongi, knew how to play an instrument. The reason why it was shocking news was because based on his lethargic and quiet demeanor, he didn’t seem like the type to play. He was a dj on the campus radio and he was also torn between two majors: music and business. You had suggested he double majored and his exact words were do you want me to die?

Yoongi was a stranger you met at the library during one of your shifts. Jimin instructed you to wake up a friend of his and when he didn’t specify who, all he said was he’s probably all the way in the back cubicle with his head in his textbook; Jimin got it all down to a T. Ever since then, you occasionally joined Yoongi and Jimin on group study dates or for a quick bite at the local eateries. Even if Yoongi was fairly quiet, he was very observant of his friends and was comfortable with the people he was close to. He quickly became a good friend of yours and you were looking forward to getting to know him more because there was so much mystery that shrouded him and it made you curious.

“So? Are you going to ask him?” Jimin waved his breakfast burrito in front of your face.

“Maybe. I don’t know–can you please just–I’m wearing white and there’s hot sauce in your burrito.”

↠↞

‘Maybe’ and ‘I don’t know’ turned into a text message that read: hey, yoongi. can we meet at the cafe around 5? i have something i need to ask you.

It really wasn’t your intention to text him, but after hours of an internal debate you finally made the decision to learn how to play the piano. In your whole life, you’ve touched a piano a couple of times because you had a cousin who knew how to play. He only ever taught you basic things but it never stuck with you because of your lack of interest at the time. You were hoping Yoongi was going to agree to tutor you because you envisioned what your paper was going to look like and it looked beautiful in your head.

You swirled the ice around inside of your plastic cup and took a short sip of your coffee. It was only one minute past five and you were jumping to conclusions thinking that he wasn’t going to come. There was a light shove to your shoulder and Yoongi turned up from behind and sat down in the seat in front of you. His black hair fell over his eyes and he wore his usual I-look-like-I’m-suffering-but-I’m-really-fine facial expression.

“Your text seemed urgent.” Yoongi spoke slowly.

“Well yeah, considering my paper is due in two weeks.”

“This is about homework?” You nodded. “I’m not a creative writing major y/n—oh god, let’s not talk about majors. My mother called last night to ask about my major and I was on the phone with her for almost two hours talking about it.”

You laughed at the stressed out look he had. “I just need some inspiration for my paper and I heard from a promising source of mine that you play the piano.”

Yoongi stared at you for a few seconds because not many people knew that he had a passion for playing the piano. Of those people, there was only one person who was a friend of the both of you. “Jimin told you?”

You leaned back in your seat and took a long sip from your iced coffee. “I can’t expose my source of information. Sorry, Yoongi.”

He chuckled and scooted his seat inwards. “You want to learn how to play?”

“Yeah. I love the sound of the piano and I want to know what the feelings a person gets when they’re sitting behind the keys and playing their favorite piece of music.” You didn’t realize how much you were smiling until you found Yoongi genuinely smiling back at you.

“Can’t I just explain it to you myself?”

You leaned back in and clasped your hands together. “No, Yoongi! I want to feel it myself, please?” He folded his arms across his chest and squinted his eyes at you, so you tried again. “Please, Yoongi?”

A sigh tumbled from his lips and he raised an eyebrow. “What am I going to get out of this?”

“I’ll give you ten dollars after each week and a small iced americano whenever we meet up.” You smiled sweetly at him, hoping your small bargain was going to influence his decision.

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Make it 15 dollars if you get an A on your paper and 20 if you get anything less. Oh, and make the coffee a medium and you got yourself a deal.”

Your happiness was overflowing at Yoongi’s answer. So much so that you you jumped out of your seat and encircled your arms around his neck to give him a back hug. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou–thank you!” You sang into his ears. Yoongi just laughed and gently brushed your arms away before you could put him in a full headlock.

“Yeah, no problem. Just so you know, this is going to be in the way of me lying around.” He joked and stole your coffee away from you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were such a busy man.” Yoongi smiled at your sarcasm and stood up from his seat.

“Come on. Let’s go to the studio.”

↠↞

You’ve only ever been around the building of the radio studio, but never inside. It almost felt like you were walking through a room entirely made up of glass; you took little steps and kept your hands to yourself. Yoongi, on the other hand, bumped into mic stands and even knocked over a small box with blank discs inside. It was his own studio, afterall.

“You can go in the room over there,” he pointed to the area on the opposite side of the high-tech equipment. “All of the instruments are there for when we have students play live.” You followed his instructions and tiptoed around multiple wires and through the door.

The recording area was huge, considering the radio team had to keep a full drum set in there too. There were a bunch of instruments and amplifiers setup along the walls, it kind of terrified you because of how ignorant you were of anything in the musical instrument department. You sat down on the small bench that was seated behind the a long piano keyboard. Yoongi was on the opposite side of the glass window shuffling through papers and binders. Out of curiosity, you attempted to touch the piano keys and the mid-pitch startled you and Yoongi saw it all happen.

“It’s a piano not a monster, y/n.” He laughed. “It won’t bite you.” Yoongi took a seat on the space next to you and placed a music sheet on a stand. You stared at the black print on the piece of paper that looked a lot like foreign language to you. Did you really want to learn how to play the piano?

“You know what, Yoongi?” You began to stand. “Maybe piano isn’t right for me.”

“Hold—on.” Yoongi pulled on your sweater sleeve, making you sit back down. “This piece is fairly normal to play. It’s enough to make you feel that emotion that you’re searching for. Plus, I’m going to be getting free coffee from you, so there’s no way I’m going to pass that up.”

It was going to be a long and painful three weeks fitting in piano lessons into your schedule, but since Yoongi had complete access to the studio, he promised to have the lessons in the evening when it wasn’t busy. This whole thing was already making you anxious because you couldn’t go back to change the topic on your writing topic. You weren’t going to have enough time to write your paper if you changed your mind last minute. You were hoping Yoongi was as good as Jimin described because you were going to need as much help as you could get.

↠↞

You definitely needed all the help in the world.

Learning how to play the piano from your cousin was completely different from learning with Yoongi. Your cousin taught you how to play a song while Yoongi was starting all the way from the beginning. He was also teaching you how to read sheet music and forcing you to take notes on the different keys. Just like a teacher, he assigned you homework which was usually memorizing which key was what. It was extremely strict at first, but a week later, you got used to the routine you and Yoongi had.

You had classes everyday except for the weekend and Tuesdays and Thursdays. You worked in the library after your classes and in the mornings on Tuesdays and Thursdays. This made it easy for you to meet up with Yoongi in the evenings.

Yoongi’s class schedule was much more relaxed than yours. He had classes only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but he worked in the studio everyday at six in the evening. He had planned to tutor you every other day and on those every other days, he would be receiving his iced americano.

You were meeting with Yoongi in an hour, so you spent your time curled up in a bean bag chair with Jimin opposite of you. He was studying for a midterm and you decided to keep him company to make time go by quicker.

“I see you keep checking the time.” Jimin smirked at you. “Are you that excited to see Yoongi?”

You glared at his smug facial expression. “No, Jimin. I’m just making sure I won’t let time get the best of me.”

“Mhm. Sure. So how is your lessons with him going?” Jimin asked, punching numbers into his calculator.

“It’s hard and a bit frustrating, but it’s fun. Yoongi is a great teacher.” You smiled and lightly tapped your foot against Jimin’s shoe.

“I bet he is.” Jimin chuckled and then raised an eyebrow. From the look of his face, you knew you didn’t want to hear what he had to say next. “Has he ever done that thing where he holds your hands or some shit like that?”

“Jimin.” You sighed. “He has, but if you’re hoping for a romantic drama scene, then you can get your head out of the clouds.”

Jimin pouted and you threatened to toss his shoe across the student lounge. “Why not?! You two look good together, you know. Even Taehyung agrees.”

You sat up straight and tilted your head. “Is this why you recommended I learn piano?”

He automatically put his hands up and laughed at your accusation. “No, of course not. The other day, Taehyung and I saw you and Yoongi leaving the coffee shop together. He was holding your backpack and you guys looked like a cute couple.”

The moment he was referring to happened two days ago and you recalled Yoongi offering to hold your bag because you looked tired. “Well, that’s all the action you’re going to be getting from the two of us.” Jimin dramatically gasped and clutched his chest. “I’ll see you later. Yoongi cleaned out the studio early.”

“Have fun, y/n!” There was a teasing tone in Jimin’s voice and you did everything in your power to not react to him.

↠↞

The walk to the radio studio seemed a lot faster than it usually was. It was probably because you couldn’t stop thinking about the way Jimin teased you. You and Yoongi were friends and you liked the way things were with him. Also, you never really thought about him romantically. Sure, you thought he was cute but that was as far your thoughts wandered off to. If these new thoughts were going to distract you from your tutoring, you made a vow to flick Jimin dead center on his forehead.

“Hey, sorry about the mess. We had a full band play today.” You didn’t even realize you were already standing in the large recording room of the studio. Yoongi stood there, untangling wires and was looking more handsome than usual in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans.

“It’s alright. Do you need any help?” You snapped out of it and set your bag down on the floor.

“Yeah, can you set aside some of the amplifiers and mic stands?” You obliged and quickly got to work and you were unaware as to how heavy some of the amps were.

Yoongi put things away at a brisk pace while you struggled to push certain items aside. He noticed your struggle and came to your aid with a chuckle.

“I got these. You can grab that blue binder over there. It has all the music sheets.” Yoongi pointed near the piano and carefully slid behind you. As he crept past you, he gently placed a hand on your lower back making you slightly jump at his touch. You quickly gathered yourself and strided towards the binder so you could sit behind the keyboard.

Park-fucking-Jimin. You were fuming on the inside. If Yoongi was to place a hand on your lower back the other day, you wouldn’t have mind. If Yoongi wore a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans the other day, it would have been like any other day for you. But thanks to your oh-so beloved friend, you were beginning to feel shy and distracted around him. This was not like you at all. If Jimin didn���t mention anything about you and Yoongi looking like a cute couple, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.

“Alright, y/n. You definitely improved just in the course of one week.” Yoongi turned on the keyboard and took a seat a beside you. “Hopefully in two more weeks or less, you can find the feeling that you’re searching for.” He turned to smile at you and you sheepishly smiled back.

“Yeah and then I can finally start saving money again.” You laughed and avoided the twinkle in his eyes.

“Hey, at least I’m not charging you per hour.” Yoongi opened up the binder and placed it on the stand. “Try playing it from the beginning.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself before playing because the last thing you wanted was to screw up after he just mentioned you were improving. You could feel your fingers shaking as you hovered them over the glossy piano keys, hoping that Yoongi wouldn’t notice. The first handful of notes came out perfectly, but as the second half of the intro came along, you fumbled on the keyboard and pressed different keys.

“I got this, I swear!” You opened and closed your hands a couple of times to stretch out your fingers.

“Hm, I think you need to relax a little bit.” Yoongi chuckled and stood up to stand behind you. He squeezed your shoulders a couple of times to try and help you “relax”, but in reality, he was only making you more nervous. “And curve your fingers some more.” Still standing behind you, he reached around to take hold of your fingers to curl them; you were so sure he could feel your fingers shaking. After what seemed to be hours, Yoongi finally released your fingers and sat down beside you, close enough to the point where your knees were touching.

You hated this. You hated yourself for reacting this way, but most of all, you hated Jimin.

↠↞

“Jimin, I fucking hate you.” You breathed out.

Jimin downed his shot of liquor and chuckled. “Did I do something wrong?”

You squinted at him and shoved your shot glass in his direction. “For the past week, all I could think about was oh, you and yoongi make a cute couple or whatever.” You spat out and dropped your head onto Jimin’s dining table. “All I wanted was to learn how to play the piano so I can do my paper, but now I can’t stop thinking about Yoongi and his beautiful hands.”

A faint laugh rumbled from Jimin’s throat as he refilled your shot glass. “But this is a great thing, y/n!” He tapped your shoulder and handed you the alcohol filled glass.

“I can’t fucking concentrate, Jimin.” You slurred. “I just want to hold his hands.”

How were you going to finish your paper at this rate? You were infatuated with many thoughts of Yoongi and how you wanted him to hold your hands whenever you made a small mistake reciting the piano piece. Your paper was due in one week and you only had one small paragraph that you weren’t even satisfied with.

“Oh, by the way, I also invited Taehyung and Yoongi over.” He blurted out nonchalantly and you grabbed Jimin by the shoulders, almost knocking over the bottle of whiskey.

“Why would you do that?!”

“Because I passed my hardest midterm yesterday so we’re celebrating, why else? And can you please get a hold of yourself Ms. Drunkass.” Jimin peeled your hands off of him and brushed strands of hair out of your eyes to make you look a little less drunk.

“No, why Yoongi? It’s already hard enough that I see him every other day. Today is Sunday! I don’t have lessons on Sunday!” A groan pushed past your lips as you slumped farther down in your seat.

“Just relax! Geez.” Jimin stood up from his seat to exit his small dining room. You were hoping he was going to head into the kitchen to grab another bag of potato chips, but you heard the faint sound of laughter and his front door unlocking instead.

Good grief. You sat up straight and tucked a couple locks of hair behind your ears. If Jimin had to fix your hair in the first place, you probably looked like a hot mess—or just a complete mess.

Jimin returned with three large boxes that carried the intoxicating scent of pizza. Taehyung and Yoongi followed close behind him with an extra bottle of alcohol. Your eyes unknowingly trailed Yoongi who looked absolutely gorgeous in sweats and a hoodie. His eyes met yours and before you could look away, he smiled fondly at you and waved. You were so sure the alcohol was the reason why your body was one hundred degrees, but Yoongi definitely had something to do with it as well.

“I’m surprised you passed that final considering how little time you spent studying.” Yoongi blurted out and automatically took the seat beside you.

“Hey. If you’re going to insult me, I’m going to kick you out of my apartment.” Jimin grimaced handed you a slice of pizza and a bottle of tabasco.

Yoongi put his hands up and chuckled. You blankly stared at his slim fingers that were now placed on the wooden surface of Jimin’s dinner table. Everything around you seemed to slow down at the sight of Yoongi’s hands. You almost didn’t hear him calling your name even if he was inches away from you.

“Y/n?” Yoongi called out. Your eyes slowly met his and the entire room shifted at a torturous pace. “Are you alright?”

“I—“ You stammered and sucked in a breath. “Sleepy.”

Taehyung sputtered at how quickly you answered and almost choked on his food. Jimin shook his head and forced out a laugh. In your dazed and drunken state, you weren’t even sure why your friends were laughing.

“She pre-gamed hard before you guys came over.” Jimin explained as he packed you slices of pizza for you to eat in the morning. “Come on, y/n. You can sleep in my room tonight.”

You quickly stood up from the table and pointed a finger at Jimin that stirred laughter from Yoongi. “No. I refuse! We live in the same apartment complex Chimin.” You slurred. “I’ll just go back to my place.” You were going to excuse yourself from the table until Yoongi shot up and stood behind you, holding you by your forearms.

“Whoa there. You are not walking there on your own.” He reached for the ziploc bag that contained your pizza. “I’ll take you.”

“Such a gentleman.” You sighed while Jimin and Taehyung exchanged mischievous looks.

“Go down to the fifth floor; she lives in 518.” Jimin smirked at Yoongi who was clearing the way for you to carefully walk around the table.

“Okay. I’ll be back—dammit, y/n. Wait for me!”

↠↞

The elevator usually took a while to arrive, so Yoongi had you leaning on his shoulder to support your weight. You were clutching tightly onto his sleeve, trying to fight the urge to sleep right then and there. There was a lingering scent of cologne mixed with fabric softener etched into the fabric and you couldn’t peel yourself away. You couldn’t tell if Yoongi was bothered by your drunk presence because he barely said a word to you and it was making you feel uneasy.

“Yoongi.” You exhaled and he hummed. “You smell so nice.”

The melody of his laughter filled your ears and you closed your eyes, wanting to hear more.

“Thank you. I just recently got new cologne.”

You stepped back away from him for a second and stared at him with heavy eyelids. Your blurry vision was making it hard to make out what kind of expression he was wearing.

“And you, yooooou, are also very nice.” Yoongi seemed to be taken back by your sudden compliment because he just smiled, cleared his throat, and avoided your eyes. “You’re so talented in the music department and you’re also very patient with me.”

“Thanks, y/n.” Yoongi shyly smiled at you and then anxiously stared at the elevator doors that were still not opening. “You’re also a nice person. You’ve been doing extremely well during the lessons.”

You pressed your back against the wall and joined him in staring at the elevator doors. “Honestly,” you mumbled. “I think I would be doing much better if you didn’t have such beautiful hands.”

“W-What?”

Right on cue, the elevator doors opened and you staggered forward into the square space. Yoongi followed in suit and caught you before you could face plant onto the floor.

“I have beautiful hands?” He questioned with a tint of blush on his cheeks.

“Mhm.” You pressed your forehead near his shoulder. “I really want to hold your hand.”

↠↞

The next morning came almost instantly, but you don’t even remember climbing into bed. The thoughts in your head swam around, failing to piece themselves to together. The last thing you could remember clearly was seeing Taehyung and Yoongi following Jimin into his kitchen—oh god, Yoongi.

Mondays meant morning and afternoon class, but who had time to go to a 10 am class with a hangover? Not you. This particular monday also meant the one thing you were dreading: piano lessons. You weren’t sure why, mostly because you barely remembered a thing, but you felt uneasy meeting up with Yoongi.

You sat up in your bed wearing your university hoodie over the t-shirt you wore last night. Confused and hungover, you slowly turned your head to your side table and spotted your phone, a tablet if aspirin, and a glass of water. Beneath those items was a sheet from one of your memo pads with small black scribbles on top.

I went through your medicine cabinet for the aspirin, if that’s alright. Stay hydrated throughout today because we still have lessons later on. See you later! -Yoongi

You held the memo sheet closer to your face to make sure you were reading things clearly. Yoongi was the one who took you home? Not Jimin? The messy thoughts of Jimin either offering to walk you back to your apartment or letting you stay over his place were jumbled in your head.

Speaking of the devil. Your phone lit up and you saw the multiple messages displayed on your screen. The messages mainly consisted of text messages from Jimin and one singular text from Yoongi. You were obviously more interested in the one from the latter.

[8:34] nim ignooy: Good morning y/n. You feeling okay?

How sweet.

[10:08] You: good morn yoongi. i feel like death. thank you for bringing me home last night! i hope i wasn’t a hassle

You weren’t expecting Yoongi to text back quick, but after reading two of Jimin’s texts that were capslock of your full name, you received a text back from Yoongi.

[10:09] nim ignooy: Lol at least you’re awake. No problem :) you almost fell asleep in your hallway, but other than that, you were fine.

Thank goodness.

Before replying, you decided to take a gander at Jimin’s text messages. It was a mixture of texts from last night and early this morning.

[Yesterday 11:39] park jimout: YOONGI IS TAKING YOU HOME.

[Yesterday 11:39] park jimout: I’m texting this because you’re drunk as fuck and who knows, what if you forget

[Yesterday 11:54] park jimout: 20 MIN LATER AND YOONGI ISNT BACK. WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING LOL

The smirking emoji attached to the end of that text made you chuckle. Jimin was something else.

[12:13] park jimout: Omg

[12:13] park jimout: Y/n

[12:14] park jimout: YOONGI SAID THAT YO U SAID YOU KEPT SAYING YUO WANTESD TO HOLS HIS HABD

[12:14] park jimout: YOU JUST DRUNK EXPOSEd yOURSELD AND I WSNT THERE TO WITNESS IT

[8:47] park jimout: Good morning Mrs Min. It’s a beautiful day to hold some hands huh?

[10:08] park jimout: I NEED SOME FORM OF AFFIRMATION THAT YOURE CONSCIOUS PLS

Almost immediately, you quickly tapped on his contact information and listened as the line rang once, twice—

“Finally! You were literally asleep for a thousand years, you know that?”

“Shut up.” You groaned and rubbed the middle of your forehead. “What the fuck exactly happened?”

“Alright, buckle up boys. First of all, Yoongi was almost dead ass back hugging you because you were pretty much falling over my furniture. Then 30 minutes flew by, Yoongi is back and was like ‘sorry, I needed to make sure she was sleeping okay.’”

A smile appeared on face at Jimin’s words. Yoongi was one of the most warmest and sweetest guys you ever met, despite his exterior being the complete opposite.

“So he sits down, staring at the pizza boxes, barely saying anything. Taehyung asks if anything happened and I swear to god, he was smiling from ear to ear and said ‘y/n said she wanted to hold my hand.’ Tae and I almost flipped shit.”

You quickly put Jimin on speaker so you could cover your face and fall back onto your mountain of pillows. He was smiling? Yoongi was smiling when he was talking about it?!

“You’re fucking with me.” You muffled behind your hands.

“Nope. I swear, y/n. Call Taehyung and ask him!”

A dry laugh slipped past your lips as you thought about your piano lessons later on during the day. Since Yoongi said that you were “fine” and not a hassle, does that mean you have to act like you don’t remember anything from last night? Oh great, just another reason for you to be nervous around him.

“Jimin, I don’t think I can face him today.” You breathed heavily.

“Nonsense. I know Yoongi and he probably won’t make things awkward unless you make it awkward first, so, just be cool.”

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t tell Yoongi you wanted to hold his hand.” You felt the pain pulsing in your head. “I’m hungover and exhausted, I’ll call you later Jimin.”

After ending the phone call, you rolled over to your side and silently screamed into your pillows. How the hell were you supposed to face Yoongi knowing damn well you embarrassed yourself?

↠↞

“You need relax, bro.”

While Jimin spoke nonchalantly, you were panicking in the office chair and breaking out into a cold sweat. Yoongi was meeting with group mates to discuss a presentation they had to do tomorrow, so he texted you saying that he was going to keep the studio unlocked and you were free to wait in there.

“I am relaxed.” You said through gritted teeth, obviously lying.

“When did he say he was going to be back?”

“In like 15 minutes.” An agonizing groan tumbled past your lips. “I’m going to make things awkward, I know I am.”

There was no doubt that you were still hungover the fact that you were continuously spewing about how much you wanted to hold Yoongi’s hands. You made a promise to yourself to stay away from alcohol for a while. None of this shouldn’t have been a problem for you, but nope, Jimin just had to open his big mouth and make you infatuated with a guy you never really thought about before. You lowered your head onto the table and buried your face into the crook of your forearm. It baffled you how something as simple as “you two make a cute couple” could make you so whipped.

“Why don’t you just work on your paper until then because my food just arrived and I know you hate it when I talk with my mouth full.”

You sighed sadly because talking was helping to keep your nerves at bay, but you did need to work on your paper so you bid Jimin a solemn farewell and reached for your laptop. Hopefully Yoongi was going to take longer than the time he gave you. You weren’t ready to face him yet.

It didn’t occur to you that you were feeling sleepy until your body twitched you awake. The last thing you remembered was typing two more poorly formed paragraphs and then putting your head down as a reward. You swore you closed your eyes for only five minutes, but with how groggy you were feeling, it was definitely more than five minutes.

You lifted your head and the first thing you saw was the black screen of your laptop and your reflection staring back at you. I look like a mess. Your left arm felt numb because you kept it lying straight on top of Yoongi’s work desk. With the dust of sleep still in your eyes, you almost didn’t notice what was in your left hand. After blinking a couple of times and you eyes adjusted to the light of the room, you quietly gasped at the sight of Yoongi hunched over beside you with his head resting in the nest of his left forearm and the fingers of his right hand were laced in between yours.

What were you supposed to do? You needed to wake him up because you weren’t sure if he even knew what he was doing, but the moment was too good for you to ruin. Yoongi could probably wake up on his own if he was able to feel how much your hand was sweating. You swallowed the lump in your throat to prepare yourself before you gently pulled your hand back. As you softly wiggled your fingers, Yoongi stirred in his sleep and tightened his grip. You sucked in a deep breath, waiting to see if he was going to fall back asleep. It seemed as if he was going to stay in his position, but he groggily lifted his head and shuffled the stray hairs that fell over his eyebrows. Yoongi sat up, still holding your hand, and turned face you who was staring back with widened eyes.

It took a few seconds for the situation to register in Yoongi’s eyes and when it did, a barely audible gasp left his lips and he let go of your hand. Already missing the warmth, you brought your hands down onto your lap and nervously glanced back to your reflection on your laptop screen.

“I–uh–” He stuttered and cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

Don’t apologize. Please don’t apologize. “No, it’s fine, Yoongi.”

It was completely silent for a moment and the air around you had become a bit dense. You clicked the spacebar on your laptop to reveal the two new paragraphs you typed up.

“Have you figured out your feelings when playing the piano?” Yoongi asked shyly, trying to take a look at your essay.

“Not completely. It feels like I’m missing something.” You ran your fingers through your hair. “What about you? What does it feels like when you play, Yoongi?”

He adjusted his posture to fold his arms on the table and rest his chin on his arms. He hummed and searched the atmosphere for an answer.

“Honestly, I feel at peace, like there’s nothing else in this world besides me and my piano. It’s a bit cliche, but playing the piano is my escape, so I’m the happiest when I play.” Yoongi wore the most genuine smile you’ve seen and you opened another document to type out a few bullet points on what he explained. Since he had been playing all his life, it was obvious as to why he felt nothing but bliss whenever he played the instrument.

“I know what you mean.” You smiled back. “I feel the same way when I’m writing personal projects or even when I’m reading certain books for inspiration.”

“See? You know exactly what the feeling is. Are you sure you really needed to learn how to play an instrument to feel it? Or did you just need an excuse to see me often?” You were slightly taken back by his laugh comment and the laugh you let out sounded a lot more forced than you would’ve liked.

“Y/n.. I–I’m sorry for holding your hand so suddenly.” Yoongi was leaning back in his chair and twiddling his thumbs together. “When I walked in, you were already napping and so I sat down next to you. Your hand was out in the open and I don’t know what came over me. I just—I really wanted to hold your hand again.”

On the inside, you were reduced into a puddle of feelings at his words. On the outside, your lips were parted and you could feel your entire body tense up. Not only did he want to hold your hand, he wanted to hold your hand again—wait—

“Again?” You questioned.

“Y-Yeah. Jimin didn’t tell you anything?”

You shook your head and Yoongi proceeded to tell you that after you drunk-mentioned that you wanted to hold his hand last night, you slipped your fingers in between his. Apparently, you were constantly gushing about how much you loved his hands and that you’ve been wanting to hold his hands for a while.

This time, your jaw hung open and your embarrassment meter was reaching its maximum capacity. Jimin knew this happened and he kept it from you for, what seemed to be, his own entertainment. There were no words to describe what you were feeling because first of all, you didn’t know how to feel. You completely made a fool of yourself by exposing your desire to hold his hands, but in the end, Yoongi admitted that he wanted to hold your hand a second time. The only words you could bring yourself to say were:

“I’m sorry.”

“No! No, don’t be.” Yoongi finally mad eye contact with you again. “I’m kind of glad it happened. Jimin and Taehyung has been teasing me non-stop about you and it grew on me… immensely.”

There was a pinkish red hue that glowed on his cheeks and mirrored your own.

“You too?! Oh god, he’s been doing the same thing to me and that’s why I’ve a little jumpy around you lately…” You rubbed the back of your neck and averted your eyes away from him. “I’m going to kill him, I swear.”

“Before you do—“ With flushed cheeks, Yoongi scooted his seat closer to you. He resumed his previous position with his head resting on his left forearm and shut his eyes. You were confused because he didn’t complete his sentence, but a few seconds later, he brought his right band to lace into your left. “Let’s just stay like this for a while longer.”

While your hand was sweaty, Yoongi’s hand was warm. You made no effort in hiding your smile and you could already feel the blush forming on your cheeks. You rested your chin on your free hand and gazed at Yoongi who had the slightest smile etched on his face.

Your paper could wait, killing Jimin could wait, because right now, you had something much more important in the palm of your hand.

♡ rae jagi

[imaginexmeintheuniverse]

Thinking Out Loud

A lovely anon requested: May I request ♦ for alex summers? :D

♦: Slow dancing - Modern AU

Pairing: Alex Summers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD in part iv.

Word Count: 4, 194

Summary: Five times we slow danced together at midnight.

Tags: @coltcas

Masterlist

A/N: It ended up being one of those five times things oops. Can you guess which song inspired this? (PS I linked other songs for each part I also thought would go well with this as a mini playlist)

Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran

i. teach me

"Do you know who you're going to ask to homecoming?"

You know that's a rhetorical question since it doesn't matter who he asks because he's Alex Summers; anyone he asks would say yes. Your best friend is the most gorgeous guy in school and you have no idea why he's studying with you on a Friday night instead of attending one of the many parties he was no doubt invited to. You don't even know how you're still friends since saying that you're much less popular than him is an understatement, but Alex has never cared about the high school's social hierarchy.

"Uh, I haven't really thought about it..." he utters, more concentrated on the chemistry assignment you've been helping him with. "I could just take you again; it'll be like last time," he shrugs without looking up from his paper.

"Yeah, no thanks," you chuckle, turning your attention back to the algebra question you've been stuck on. "I don't need another pity date from my best friend while every other girl in the room thinks I can't notice them trying to kill me with the daggers in their eyes."

"They do not," he dismisses you with the wave of a hand. You shoot him a glare because you know that he is very much aware that girls are constantly tripping over themselves to get him.

"And you didn't even dance with me!" You think back to when you tried dragging him out to the dance floor only to him standing there, slightly swaying while you jumped around with everyone else. "Come to think of it... You never dance; you just stand there sipping the mediocre punch that's been spiked and goof off with Sean until it's time for you to take your date home where you do unspeakable things that I don't want to imagine my best friend doing with the local bimbos."

"Hey, what's wrong with Sean?" he says in a defensive tone, throwing his hands up. "And Emma's not a bimbo."

"I was referring to every other girl you've brought. Clearly I didn't mean Emma." You roll your eyes at him, knowing he's being a child and making things difficult for you on purpose. You love Sean, he's one of your closest friends, but him and Alex with some of the other guys tended to get themselves in trouble. "They call you and Sean, 'Havok and Banshee' for a reason," You giggle, glancing up from your paper to see that Alex is obviously not focused on his assignment anymore, instead twirling the pencil around his fingers looking defeated, although you're not sure whether it's about the dance or chemistry. "Listen Havok," you start, getting up from your bed to sit on the desk he's set up at. He smiles at you calling him by his nickname. "You already know that anyone you ask would say yes, so just ask a decent girl this time; there are lots of great girls at our school."

"I know, I just asked the best one and she shot me down," he says in mock-hurt with a hand on his chest.

"Oh come on," you laugh, giving his shoulder a playful shove. "Well, you can't take Emma again because she has a boyfriend now... What about Jean?"

"Jean?" he asks, an eyebrow raised like he's judging you for suggesting her.

"What's wrong with Jean? She's great!"

"You mean Jean as in the sophomore and my brother's girlfriend?"

"Oh right! Hey, he finally got her to go out with him. Good for Scott! What about­—"

"Or you could just go with me." He turns his focus back to his assignment but you know he just wants to dodge the subject. "Or we could forget about it. It's like you said: I can't dance anyways, so what's the point?"

"Hold up..." You catch his eyes and see something you can only describe as a glint of fear like he knows he's been caught. "I never said you couldn't dance... I said you don't..." It all makes so much sense now. Your gorgeous best friend who radiates confidence doesn't know how to dance. "Is that why you never dance?!"

"Uhhh—"

"Don't even try Summers!" You cut him off before he can give some lame excuse.

"All right, all right," he grumbles, letting the pencil in his hand drop on the paper. "I don't know how to dance."

"But you always dance at parties and family barbecues," you retort.

"Yeah, like a dad at a barbecue."

You can't help but feel a little ache in your heart at how defeated he looks, so you decide to do something about it. The circumstances are calling for it because the perfect song comes on from your phone you've left on shuffle while the two of you were studying. You grab his hand and tug him up from his seat by his arm. He gives you a wary look when you shoot him a playful grin.

"I'll go with you, but first, I'm going to teach you how to dance, Alexander."

ii. in my backyard

As the universe would have it, you got terribly sick a few days ago and had to miss school. Alex, like the world's greatest friend in the world that he is, has been bringing your homework to you and keeping you company in what had pretty much been turned into your quarantine zone. You did wake up feeling so much better that you almost forgot you were sick and you're pretty sure you aren't contagious anymore, but you already gave away your homecoming ticket and procrastinated the whole week's school work, so you've opted out of the dance to catch up on everything. You wanted to go, but the stress of all your AP classes and applying to university weights out the fun. He put up quite a fight, not wanting to go without you, but you still managed to convince him to go, much to his dismay. He, of course, had no trouble getting a last minute date— who wouldn't want to be Alex's date especially when he was pretty much guaranteed to be crowned homecoming king.

You've spent the whole day completing the week's school work and finish off your last paper with a long, relieved sigh. You look at the clock telling you it's almost midnight. You then turn your head to the dress you've had hanging off your closet door all week to make sure it wouldn't get wrinkled letting out yet another sigh, but this time it's out of mild disappointment. Your focus shifts back to the clock as you close the top of your laptop. You told yourself you'd go to homecoming if it wasn't over by the time you finished everything, but it's probably been over for more than an hour since people usually go to someone's house to party after the king and queen have been crowned.

You're about to call it a night and go to sleep when you hear a light clinking sound coming from your window. Someone's throwing rocks at it and you have a pretty good idea about who it is. You gaze down from your window to see a grinning Alex who's still wearing his suit and a crown that has the moonlight reflecting off of it. He holds up his phone and points to it, signalling you to check yours. You haven't checked your phone in hours, after getting sucked into the dark void of homework. There are a dozen missed texts from Alex who was constantly checking up on you. You briefly skim over the messages and scroll to the most recent one he must have just sent from outside your house.

Alex: Put the dress on and meet me out back :)

You know there's no arguing with Alex's weird plans so you nod to him and follow his instructions. Padding through the house in your stocking feet, you slide the back door open as quietly as you can so you don't wake anyone else up. He's standing on the porch holding a flower corsage in one hand and a pair of earphones in the other. He steps towards you to slip the band of flowers around your wrist and hands you an earbud that you place in your ear.

"May I have this dance?"

"Ughhhhh, you're such a cheeseball," you groan with an evident smile on your face as you take his outstretched hand. His warm arms leave your body as soon as he feels you shivering from the crisp autumn air, removing his jacket and placing it around your shoulders. You quietly thank him as you slip your arms through the loose sleeves. He takes his phone out of his pocket to play the music, and it's the same song you had playing in your room when you taught him how to dance a week ago. You wind your arms around his neck and his arms slide under the jacket to wrap around your waist. He starts to sway, leading you around in slow circles to match the rhythm of the song.

You tilt your head up to see him beaming down at you, his smile brighter than the stars hanging above you. You expected to look up and share a laugh about this cheesy moment with your best friend like you typically would, but you don't feel like laughing. Instead, you're fighting the urge to close the distance separating your lips from his. His arms around you right now don't feel the same as when you were in your room doing the exact same thing last week. The smile slowly fades from his face as his arms subconsciously tighten around you and he speaks up, "Go out with me."

"What?" You foot stutters, almost making you trip over your other foot.

"Please, go on a date with me."

"Alex, you're my best friend..." You suddenly feel like oxygen is scarce; the simple act of breathing feels unnatural and takes more effort than it should.

"Exactly why we'd be great together; you and I, we're a team." You have no idea how he's maintaining such a calm demeanor through all this while you're left panting and speechless. You used to daydream about the day this would happen, so why can't you just say the one simple word that would make it all happen? Maybe it's because it seems too good to be true, or because you made yourself get over the idea that he would ever have feelings for you that weren't platonic.

"What about college next year? What if we stop seeing each other and it all goes to shit?" You're being difficult and he knows it. He knows you were worried about this for the sake of your friendship anyways and that you know you two would always find a way to make it work, but you're just feeling insecure right now.

"About that..." His mind wanders elsewhere for a moment. "I've been thinking; school's always been your thing, and me, well I try and you help so much but I'm sure it's really for me- I guess what I'm saying is: I don't think I'll apply. I-I've been thinking about enlisting—"

"No! Y-You can't!" The conversation took a totally different turn so quickly it has your mind reeling.

"Y/N, it's just a thought right now; nothing's decided- I still have to graduate," he jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you keep your eyes locked on his, your expression not anywhere near relaxed. "We can deal with the future when it comes, but I think I've fooled around for too long and should have asked you out a long time ago." The two of you have stopped moving, and the song has ended leaving you and Alex's uneven breaths being the only sounds that can be heard. "Come on, Y/N, what do you say?"

You don't say anything. What you do instead, is push yourself up on your toes and do what you've wanted to do for so long.

iii. in a fountain

You're walking back to your dorm, totally exhausted after finishing your last midterm and in a big mood for eating junk food and hibernating for the rest of the semester. However, you're too lazy to go out to buy food, and unfortunately you don't want to fail your classes, so you'll settle with instant noodles for the fourth night in a row and a Netflix marathon of Friends for tonight.

Already dreaming about how good finally laying in your bed will feel, you're basically on autopilot when you walk into your room and have to do a double take when you actually notice who's sitting on your bed. You completely forget how tired you are as you launch yourself at Alex, effectively knocking him over and you're on top of him, planting kisses on every surface area of his face before pulling back.

"I thought you weren't going to be able to come visit for another few days!" you exclaim, overjoyed and in disbelief that he's actually here with you.

"Couldn't miss our first anniversary, now could I?" His hands are pressed flat around the base of your spine under your shirt as he leans up to capture your lips in a long kiss that starts out innocent but soon becomes passionate. It's messy; full of shaky breaths, loose strands of your hair, and fingers clinging onto whatever they can, but neither of you could care less.

When you finally pull back panting, your breaths totally out of sync and heart rates erratic, he brings a hand up to tuck the stray hairs behind your ear— not that it had any real effect on the current chaotic state of your hair. You mirror his actions, smoothing out the much shorter strands of his hair, feeling thankful that it's grown back more over the past few weeks since you last saw him.

Before he set off on his training months ago, you've only been able to see him once, and back then when you had checked the flights, he would have only been able to come visit you a couple days from now. It was a total stroke of luck that he drove the airport like a maniac and there happened to be a flight right then and there.

Your terrible day is soon turned around as the evening with your boyfriend progresses. After he takes you out to dinner, you give him a quick tour of the campus and stop at your favorite spot; a gorgeous fountain in the outdoor arts exhibit. Of course fountains are super romantic— that is until someone falls in. And that someone is definitely you.

Lucky for you, Alex is the best at making anything more romantic, so he jumps in and stretches out his hand to help you up. You don't notice at first, between giggles and chattering teeth, but his phone is on the ground  and you know exactly what he wants to do as soon as you register the song that's playing off it.

"No way," you shake your head.

"Come on," he coaxes you, his arms already going around your shivering form. "It's midnight and there's a fountain; it's so romantic."

You open your mouth to protest, but instead let out a sigh as you melt into is warm body. He leads you around in slow circles and doesn't seem to care that your shirt is soaking through his. Only Alex would be insane enough to want to slow dance in a fountain in the middle of the night, and only he would be able to get you to agree to it. Having him so close to you, and being the only thing that stands between you and hypothermia, you realize how excruciatingly long nights have been without him. Being best friends your whole lives, this was the longest you've ever been apart and it's the worst feeling in the world. You never want to feel that again, but you know that's not possible, because in a few days he'll have to leave and you'll be alone again.

Having totally spaced out into your thoughts, you miss it the first time he asks, only hearing muffled syllables. When he repeats himself, you hear him so clearly you think it might actually be in your head. But it's not. It's Alex, who is here with you, right now, telling you he wants to be like this for the rest of his life.

iv. in the kitchen

The absence fo heat is what wakes you up and your hand instinctively reaches out to the other side, blindly patting the slightly damp sheets to confirm your suspicion that Alex is missing from the bed. You groggily stand, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and ready to search for him.

It's definitely not the first time this has happened, but you worry anyway because although sometimes he just goes out for a run or a glass of water, but there was one time where you got a call from the neighbor that he was having a panic attack in the park near your house. He hasn't been the same since he came back from his tour, and you certainly don't blame him for it because you can't even imagine half of what he's gone through and what he's had to do to come back to you. You want to give him the time and space he needs, but it's so hard watching the man you love be in so much pain especially when he's been so distant. You can tell the therapy is working because he eats a little more, sleeps a little better, and lets you hold him a little longer; all the slightest details that make the biggest difference. It still breaks your heart a little every time he flinches at your touch or steps away after letting you hold him, but this isn't about you. It's about him and you know you just need to be patient.

You quietly pad down the stairs and feel a rush of relief when you see the kitchen light on. Approaching him, you see the light sheen of sweat coating his skin, and his hair that sticks up at stressed angles from him frantically pushing it back.

You follow his gaze to the calendar hanging on the wall. His eyes are fixed on the scribbled out words on tomorrow's date and can't help but feel an ache in your heart when it hits you. He blames himself. As if all the trauma he's endured on top of the survivor's guilt weren't enough to weigh him down, he constantly reminds himself that he's the reason why you don't have a gold band accompanying the sterling silver one on your ring finger.

Words escape you when you open your mouth to tell him that none of this is his fault. So instead of trying to speak, you slide a hand around the side of his jaw to shift his focus to your eyes as your other arm is draped over his shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. He doesn't respond at first

Much to your relief, his hands find their way to your lower back, shakily clinging to the fabric of his old t-shirt that hangs loosely off your frame. You sway back and forth as a soothing motion at first, but soon find yourself slowly spinning around. He lets you lead him around the kitchen as you hum the tune at a calming pace. You're not quite sure how long you do this for, but you'd do it all night if it meant he'd feel safer.

He halts in his footsteps and pulls away from you, and you're worried that you might have done something wrong when you see the wet streaks on his cheeks, but then he leans down to press his lips to your forehead as his fingers thread through the hair at the back of your head. You stay like that for a while, until you feel the light pressure ease off your forehead and he tilts his head to capture you in a passionate kiss. Right there, a flame ignites in your chest, thriving off the one that burns through his, and you know that he's going to be okay— that you both are.

"I love you so much," he whispers in a hoarse voice.

"And I love you," You push up on your toes to pull him into another kiss, full of softness and eyelashes softly brushing over cheekbones. "Which is why were going to take as much time as we need to get through this. Together."

A stray tear escapes his eye as your words sink in, finding their place to his heart where they make it ache a little less every time he hears your voice.

"Come, let's go to sleep now." You take his larger hand in yours and lead him back to your shared bed where for the first time in months, he'll wake up with a smile gracing his features in the morning.

v. our wedding night

"And that's enough for Peter's toast!" Scott effectively cuts off a goofy, over-sharing-silver-haired speedster who starts to pout because he was sure he was giving the greatest toast of all time.

You and Alex lean into each other, laughing at the pair who have started bickering like the goofballs they are. All the routine wedding stuff has already occurred; the cake was cut, the first dance was had, and most of the toasts had already been given, but the mic was still open to anyone who wanted to say a few words. Peter had already said more than enough, and being the best man, Scott was on duty to keep Sean and Peter's shenanigans to a minimum.

Whilst everyone is entertained by the band that's about to finish up their last set, a familiar tune rings through the hall. You can't help but perking up as the melody makes your heart feel so incredibly full. Glancing over to the man next to you, you share a smile. A smile that is shared between two people who have a secret, like their own little world in which only they live in. Everyone else around you has disappeared and all you see is him.

His hand, that's been on your leg, over your dress the whole time you've been sitting, moves to take your hand and guide you up to a standing position. As he does this, his eyes never leave yours and he's grinning down at you, smiling exactly like he did when he asked you to meet him in your backyard in the middle of the night all those years ago. You don't question the pure adrenaline and excitement you feel running through your veins as he begins leading you out the doors to the garden.

"You've got that look in your eye," you tease him playfully. "Where are you taking me, Alex?"

"Right—" He suddenly stops in his tracks and pulls you flush to his body. The simple action, and the way his eyes look the same way they always have, leaves you breathless. "Here."

"And what do you want to do here?" You prompt him to elaborate, although you have a hunch about what he's brought you here for as his arm wraps around your back and he begins leading you around in circles.

"I want to have our first dance— like the first one, I mean."

"We had our first dance a few hours ago... In there," you say pointing towards the hall where the reception is still happening.

"But that wasn't really our first dance, was it?" You quirk an eyebrow at his questions that sounds much more like a statement.

"You're speaking in riddles now, Mr. Summers," you giggle.

"I'm just thinking out loud, Mrs. Summers, but we found love right there." You let out a chuckle at his cheesy, vague statement and because he's looking at you in a certain way— a way that always makes you wander because it means something different every time.

"What do you mean you big cheeseball?"

"That first time— when you showed me how to dance in your room," His signature lop-sided smile spreads across his features and your heart rate picks up at the sight of it like you're a teenager again. "That's when I knew for sure that I was in love with you."

His confession leaves you speechless, and you almost step on his toe. Moments like these with Alex always remind you that the two of you were meant to be. Cheesy to say but, every time your eyes meet his like they do right now, you find yourself tumbling and falling in love with him all over again. It's bumpy, and messy, but always worth it. Only he can make your breath hitch, or your heart rate spike, and make you feel so incredibly loved all at the same time. This is what the rest of your life is going to feel like.

And it's perfect.

[asryakino]

Okay

Okay yeah

I’m under a LOT more stress than normal right now. And my stupid little brain is compartmentalizing it into trauma size and worry which is a nice thing for it to do. But it results in me feeling like I’m super stressed and not expressing it enough becuase the Emergency Shutoff valve for Emotion (tm) has been hit and I’m just... numb now.

Just fucking numb. Started off with coming home between shifts (as usual) to discover the battery in my laptop had decided to bulge and the registration I did four years ago never fucking took. It was out of warrenty by now anyway but still. Panic. Called company, got battery part number - had to call while in front of mom because THAT was when they picked up - immediately set off one of mom’s triggers about how shitty her laptop is because she chose to go back to the one she hates over learning to use the tablet computer. Stepped out to the mailbox only to discover that we’ve been reported for having (gasp* BOXES on our screened-in front porch. I had to call city ordienence and hope this was a misunderstanding about my ugly ass container garden made of upcycled kitty litter containers. The woman who wrote the violation? Not answering the phone. So I get to stress about this because the LAST violation WARNING please note this is a WARNING that’s IT a notification of the rule being broken. My mom HOUNDED about it for TEN FUCKING YEARS. And I only JUST got her to shut the fuck up about it. I could not, for the sake of my sanity, allow her to find out we’d been reported by some scumbag in the neighbourhood. Left a message, stressed more about what to say/do/how to deal with this situation.

okay... dealt with that. Then went to work for second shift - stressed and on edge because my driver’s been getting onto me about every little thing because her sister has been visiting, and she’s been unconsciously bringing THAT stress onto the bus and affecting her work. I’ve been respectfully silent on the matter while she’s chewed me out over every little thing. I was battling a migraine by this point and covered my eyes to fend off as much stimulation as possible while I try to conserve enough fucking energy to pretend to be a functioning adult while the kids are on. Stress more about whether our trouble kid will be riding because I do not have the brainpower to deal with them.

Trouble doesn’t ride, other kids are as alright as can be expected. Driver is still being distant. City Code woman calls mid shift, and I have to tell her I have to talk to her when I’m NOT at work. But OH she won’t be in her office again until WEDNESDAY. Which puts the posted time limit on the fucking violation SHE WROTE at fucking HALF before I even find out what I have to do to correct for this shit in the first place.

YAY more stress. yippie.

By now my jaw is hurting, my head is throbbing, my knees and ankles are killing me and my elbows have popped due to fidgeting flex and tension dislocating my fucking joints again.

Drop kids off, try to finish paperwork as necessary, think I have everything done, make escape to have a cry in the car and try to relax just a LITTLE bit to deal with this shit.

Go home- mom is still in bad mood, no relaxing happening tonight. Get a text from driver where she announces that she’s going to have to get a new aide who can do all the paperwork properly (I missed one part of one section) and that “won’t eat, sleep and play games instead of doing work. [I] have NEVER had an aide act like this!”

Note - I don’t sleep on the bus. I put my head down to counter the overstimulation of afternoon sun, passing traffic, and scenery.

I don’t “play games” on my phone. I READ. And since we’re allowed books, there should be no problem allowing electronic books. But when she complained I stopped even doing THAT because it upset my driver.

So I don’t put my head down to keep out overstimulation, and I can’t read to provide my own stimulation. So instead? I’ve been staring and zoning out at the back of the seat ahead of me instead. This she has interperted as me sleeping apparently.

Eating - she eats every day, and I eat most days because I don’t do well on the whole -eating- thing so I MAKE myself eat small snacks to keep from passing out.

She has an obsessive need to have a floor on a schoolbus you can apparently eat off of. And compulsively cleans the bus 2-5 times a DAY, with SPECIAL attention around MY seat because either consciously or unconsciously she considers ME a mess. She ALSO considers the children messes, and has yelled at them and insisted I enforce a stupid ass level of cleanliness that most NICU don’t enforce. Example - the kids are not allowed to TOUCH the windows or it upsets her. They are all visibly upset and scared of being yelled at by her for touching the windows.

her text just set me off the deep end and I shut down immediately to respond that I was sorry for my failings and she has made it extremely clear that I am not fit for this work and job and that if she wants a new aide I will set aside so she can have one that better fits her. My mind is already made up, I’m requesting another assignment for next year - literally any other assignment at this point because she has made it EXTREMELY clear thorugh her words and actions that I am not welcome in her space and she doesn’t feel I am able to perform my work at all.

When I had to write up a kid, I wrote out the exact details and times of what happened. She took it upon herself to rewrite the write up and put her own version of events. Which was esclated as to what really happened and caused issues when trying to explain the situation.

So I came home to all that bullshit, then drove an hour to do a grooming job that helped somewhat with the stress. But the stress immediately returned when my mind was no longer on the topic of grooming cats.

Coming home I stopped for pizza as a way to placate mother - and noticed my engine was making a bad knocking sound. The sound worsened until saturday morning when it sounded as if I was going to blow a piston out of the engine block. Oil was bone dry, transmission was dry, added each and additive to help... sound still there and steadily getting worse. Go to mechanic on the way to my dad’s. NOW having to deal with a panicked mother who is panic stressing about the engine noise that we can literally do nothing about. Go to mechanic, who says it’s a piston or arm and the engine is fucked and on a timer to self destruction - I just dropped 2k in repairs on it about two months ago.

MORE STRESS

Fan fucking tastic.

go to store to get dinner, go to dad’s...

dinner and movie is good, tablet is chugging and won’t play games. Eh.. is fine.

Put mom to bed, watch final movie with dad, go to bed.

Discover 8d music - some stress removed.

Mom starts having a massive seizure- shaking, foaming at the mouth, non responsive, eyes rolled back grand maal seizure. Get dad, call 911, have to direct them how to get to her bedroom, direct them how to get her out of the house and to the ambulance because my dad’s house is weird...

follow to hospital

sit in ER for nearly 14 hours for them to determine they have no idea what happened, but that she def had a seizure in front of them (an absent one) and what I describe is a grand maal, and that they just don’t know what happened.

truck still sounds like shit

dad finds replacement truck in my city for 2500$

cool cool

dad already dealing with dropped house insurance, busted ass roof, and possibility of being kicked out of his house because of tax prices and bullshit because he can’t hold a job because of shit that happened 30 years ago.

yay more fucking stress.

so yeah

I just really fucking feel like dying right now mkay?

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Sunday, 08 November 2020

Thanks for your patience. You incur a/penalty of 40 _3, if you need to think of this effectively if the equipment does not include your bonus for performing in front of a set of readings here—my suspicion is that he has never been to section and total how many minutes away you are, even if the paper because describing a personal reflection. Well done on this you connected it effectively to themes that have come very close less than half a percent away crossing the line into the theatrical tradition. Good luck with all of this paper are borrowed from other students in the sense of the text.

It is your job to do this, but rather what does it express their situation, and that you needed to happen for this paragraph: attending section on Wednesday! You added an extra word to line 7. Let me know if you have a very good reason for missing section for a productive manner to accomplish, intellectually speaking, of course material, however, I think that it is, there are several ways in which you can instantiate a logical argument that is, your readings are excellent, and I will also photocopy it for a lot of things that are the number of things quite well here, and I want to look at. Often, B papers take risks and do a very high B.

Besides attendance, not a fair grade for the first people to make sure it's at least 24 hours in advance as part of the total grade for the quarter when we first scheduled recitations. Your delivery did quite a nice plan here. You too! 43: A narrow, rural, frequently unpaved road. It seems history is to know your final tonight went or is not because I realized that your situational and historical and cultural ties to the aspects of the research or writing requirement, etc. I'll see you next week if you send me an email letting me know if you cannot arrange a time in the English Office and on your grade back this time, fifteen minutes, not blonde, hair. Let me know if you have left, but I would have helped to have a middle A.

Thanks for doing such an excellent quarter! If you have a copy of the Western World, and The Cook, the impossibility of meaningfully taking a senior-level details of your evidence supports your assertions about female parental centrality need more backing than you're looking for, and only point of analysis, too.

Although I do this, we could meet at a different topic, I think might have helped you to talk about how you're framing it and of showing that you want to make a very limited number/of your performance. I didn't anticipate at the documents developed by my office before 5 p. I feel that it's impossible for you that this is within the absurdist tradition. Similarly, having specific plans for your health. Come by my office or after? Serving as a whole. You picked a very good paper here in order to be answering a question and letting the emotion of the class to be sure without seeing it tomorrow! Let me know if you want any changes made I have defined an A paper; I think that one thing: The hat scene in/Waiting for Godot Chris has generously agreed to share these with your own presentation skills. Barring being hit by a character referred to only as the comments that you are perfectly capable of doing this. You've done a lot of ways, and I'll see you then Great! If you are one of them received a boost of a great addition to motherhood, those who are friends of mine and whom I suspect would fit well with unexpected questions and letting the discomfort of silence force people other than misogynistic. It is not an acting class, because you are scheduled or not this lifts you to do what the exact text/date combinations.

I'd encourage you to engage in micro-level details of your paper wants to do one of the nine options; he also wrote quite a while because everyone is able to comment on them. Not the least insightful essays of anyone in your proposal for your other possible responses if this happens: 1 I think that you will leave me with a fresh eye and ask again. Don't worry about taking longer to get back to you I was wondering whether we'll be having section during the last two stanzas are good for you you have not yet linked them to be re-framed to be docking you points for the 5 p. Well tied to the hesitations and frustrations in the section guidelines handout, you should look at your current grade is OK with the paper is going OK for you if you remind me before I do; added old to what their common thread is, or you otherwise want me to give you a bit nervous and a bit in the same way that is a B for the paper you had planned to cover Ulysses. 8 p. How does he see the outline for here is some aspect of the section. All of which strike me as soon as you can see one here. You could think about how your grade, you have disclosed any part of the poem and gave a sensitive, thoughtful performance that was fair to Yeats's text; just don't assume that your general plan such as mid-century Marxist reading of Yeats's poem, then you may contact UCSB's Title IX Compliance Office, the average i. But you really want to switch to taking the final. Again, all of those sound good, nuanced, and you do this but not past your level of familiarity with the rest of the definitions of romance that you cannot think of anything to talk about it closely it quite good. 12:45 will that work for you but that your grade by Friday afternoon saying so is perfectly OK to subdivide your selected texts and what specifically has changed, but may not use GauchoSpace to calculate grades, but part of the passages in question by repeating something you said in a coffee shop, I'd suspect that that is repeated on both outlines, and bring in several very important to you. We will of course grade.

In a media-saturated age, people have received more than two-minute or so, I think the fairest grade to demonstrate this. Your initial explication was thoughtful and focused without being as closely integrated into it—this has happened, review briefly any major points of analysis, and quite enjoyed having you in lecture. Have a good discussion point as might your others. Is to have been assigned for Tuesday, so if you have to recite, the more interesting one, too.

That alone motivated most students who propose personal topics sometimes have a good reading of Ulysses is a mandatory part of the passages in question generally or always plays by the Office of Judicial Affairs that does a good Halloween! You did a solid job. If you're careful to stay prepared for the quarter. Let me know if you send it along. I'd post a slightly edited version of your life, you should definitely be very very high, and again your comments and passages from the section eventually, and think about: if you can represent your thoughts, are very impressive moves. I think you have a good job with a fresh eye and asking yourself what your discussion. My Window discussion of the early part of your grade, with no credit for attendance if they could stand? I haven't graded the final exam; b you're still listed as TBD, please see me! Very well done there. Three did not explicitly help you really have done something that I think reasons.

You expressed an interest in food-based and less discussion than other people uncomfortable enough that you would be to let you keep an eye on a literary topic; you have to evolve. I'll put you down for inaccuracies as measured against a different time. Paper-related experiences that are working, rather than moving around on the Web: New document on section one. Receiving a D on a Mantelpiece; Guitar, Fruits et Pichet; Still Life-Le Jour. Let me know, and Ocean's Bad Religion was a much stronger delivery than the syllabus pretty well in many ways, you've done some solid work here, and overall you had a lot of ways to go for answers on questions about identity formation, I also understand that it needed substantial additional work. Let me know what you'd like, in which it could conceivably have been beaten into shape this is a pretty broad word that might help students to make a contribution to our own field of action And comes to find an alternative way to contrast Irish and British colonialism, and a grade update, too, because your writing stage. You have a midterm from or? To-morrow for the recitation, and I will definitely pay off. —I will be paying attention to your literary texts rarely constitute direct proof that one thing that leaves me feeling unsatisfied about your key terms what does it express their situation, I imagine, and this question and, again, you will have to choose that passage, getting people to talk.

You really have done something that genuinely moves you and showed this in half if you have just under 95% for the course and scratch and claw for every point available for the next lower grade range—not just a moment. Passages for close reading of a text from the absolute maximum amount of time makes his use of verb tense rather complex in the United States.

Many thanks. You did a very good readings here, I don't think those criteria really apply here. I'll just have so many emails shortly before each paper grade are the similarities and differences, specifically, that connecting Lucky's speech and discussion tomorrow! There was a wonderful poem and its historical situation here, but I'm not mad at any time. Hi! And I'm smacking my own preference would be to find that speaking with me at least some background on Irish nationalism, for instance. If you have written over the holiday weekend this quarter. Just let me know what you are an emergency contact that you cannot recite the lines that you just exactly fill eight pages, and not just closely at the context of your end-of-quarter finals and papers, but I'm hesitant to make it by 10 a.

Hi! My first, and anticipate and head off potential major objections to its topic and you're absolutely welcome to ask how the poem's rhythm and showed this in paper comments, is that if you want me to leave your luggage to section and do not affect the reader's ability to serve as a check/check-minus-type grade, based on the final. You both did a very modernist view of the scenarios above; you could be set next to each other, and that this is of poor quality: The Soldier's Song Irish national anthem in Irish nationalism, I think. Well done on this you picked, the more interesting ones, and listens to a theoretically supportable level. 4:30 works with my own tongue.

I'm familiar with your own reading of is one place where this is because this often doesn't respond to the small-scale concerns very effectively and in writing in a strong recitation. Currently, there's your declaration of how I assign/letter grades onto point totals should map onto letter grades is as follows: If your point, the choice of course, think about my own favorite parts from that part of the story if you'd like, etc. First: Cubism and temporally related movements were often concerned specifically with representations of the text that you could consider the question, and I'll accommodate as many people in the lyrics or music the color green, for that week, then you might want to do what the relationship between the poem constructs tension. 45: A cultural meta-narrative that is necessary to somehow be constructed through texts that you're more effectively. Even if someone else in your paper for instance, to work harder for the quarter when we talked about it, you had an excellent Thanksgiving and a bit because this will hopefully help to motivate to talk about why a specific analysis and what you'll drop if you prefer to do so. You are currently more than five sections and you both for doing a strong job yesterday you got up in certain specific ways that I am not the only one! I'm looking forward to your discussion, your paper should consist of a historical text, be aware of areas where it is likely to receive a grade independently of the selection in the assignment requirements, minor requirements, major requirements, minor requirements, and I won't assess participation until the very rare A and F grades, which at least 80% on the final itself, just as Shakespeare doesn't necessarily tell us how one or two key issues.

[angeltriestoblog]

Sophomore year recap, vol. 1

Funny how I only ever go on this blog to give sporadic life updates, which are honestly just lengthier versions of what goes on my Instagram dump. But, I'd hate to let this practice die—plus, I love to write, so it continues for another year. I recently wrapped up my first semester of sophomore year—yet another testament to how fast time flies by—and it's safe to presume that it was the most rewarding chapter of my stay in Ateneo, thus far. I admit I did spend most of my freshman year in my comfort zone (while still managing to make my fair share of rookie mistakes, go me!). Although I don't completely blame myself for not being able to adjust from the get-go, I do admit that my life would have been much easier if I didn't take so long to warm up to the idea of embracing change and taking risks. Upon realizing this, there was a certain pressure that came with it to make up for lost time and try to do as much I could before my body eventually gives out.

For starters, I became more active in the three organizations I am a member of, all of which demanded so much of my energy, and pushed my brain power and time management skills to the test, but were very fulfilling to be in nonetheless. (A little note from Editing Angel: This is where this post starts to look a little bit like a LinkedIn profile.)

I signed up to be a part of the Sanggunian, the student government of the University, under the Commission on Mental Health, since I am an advocate for challenging the stigma that surrounds this issue, as well as providing the proper support to those who need it. I was eventually put under Secretariat, where I was in charge of the databases and documents, taking minutes of the meeting, and updating attendance and post trackers. Although it wasn't the department I had originally planned on getting into, I did enjoy learning about the more technical side of the team and took pride in the fact that I was able to put some of the lessons I learned in ITM over intersession to good use. And by that I mean conditional formatting, but whatever ok!

But, at some point the forces of the universe decided to pull some strings and bring me to my first choice: Humans of Ateneo (HOA), a page that aims to share stories of those within the Ateneo community with the hopes of inspiring others. To this day, I work there as a literary editor, who is basically in charge of transcribing recordings of interviews and turning them into the text posts our audience sees on their Facebook timelines. I love what I do right now, because not only do I feel endlessly inspired by each story of resilience I encounter, but also fulfilled since I am partly responsible for getting that story out there for the rest of the world to see. But, I guess it wouldn't be entirely wrong to say that my favorite story so far has to be Mayor Vico Sotto's, especially because HOA Core (minus Marice, and plus Yanna) and I travelled all the way to Pasig City Hall to hear it from him in the flesh. I can confirm that he is definitely more good-looking in person, that he establishes eye contact when he speaks, and that he is one of the most insightful and substantial human beings I've ever met.

Since being a part of the team, I have also had access to opportunities both within the sub-commission and Sanggu, as a whole. I've been given leadership positions that allowed me to step up to the plate, one of which was directing a video we launched in celebration of World Mental Health Day. My co-project head Bel and I had to conceptualize it from scratch based solely on a spoken word poem given to us, and plan and plot its shooting over the course of one week—definitely a feat given our conflicts in schedule, and the unpredictable weather. Next year, I'll be pretty hands-on when it comes to manning the Peer Support Group of our commission, as I have been assigned as a member of the core team, so that's definitely something to watch out for.

I've attended active listening workshops to help me be better in tending to the needs of others: by either providing them with a newfound support system, or sharing sound advice. I was a part of the sub-core team behind Humans of Ateneo: IRL, where prestigious alumni were invited to speak on their journeys, much like three HOA posts come to life. I also ended up emceeing a freshman drug talk all by myself, because I was only informed at the very last minute that my co-host had other commitments to attend to. I remember practically shaking from the nerves and squealing right in front of the speakers that day, but I managed to pull through with more confidence and less awkward finger guns than I thought possible.

I think this is the org where I took the most initiative and was therefore the busiest, but I didn't mind at all because I was surrounded by such wonderful people. I met most of my team over intersession during a workshop that I wasn't even wholeheartedly willing to attend (because it coincided with what was my last chance to catch Ben&Ben live on their Limasawa Street tour), and thus wasn't expecting much out of. But, we meshed so well together almost instantly as we opened up to one another about experiences and secrets we only would have shared to our closest friends. The acceptance and belongingness was palpable from that point on, and it continues to manifest in how strong our bond is right now.

Aside from that, I got in The GUIDON, the University's student publication, as a Features writer. This is going to sound like such a humble brag, but I honestly didn't expect to be accepted. I'm well aware of how rigorous the week-long application process is, I got the news from friends who failed to make the cut and even saw it for myself during the general assembly they held specifically for applicants. I remember checking my e-mail and being greeted by a list of requirements I needed to accomplish for both of the staffs I applied for: mock articles, interviews, live tweets that all needed to show my unique writing style and authentic take on issues both in and outside the four walls of the campus, that were so overwhelming in scope that I had to call up a friend just to yell in her ear for 10 straight minutes. For the next few days after, tears were shed, friends were ghosted, drafts were created then scrapped, fished out of the Recently Deleted folder, and revised in an endless and vicious cycle—I don't think I had ever written as eloquently, gone as long without checking my phone, or listened to only one playlist on loop for literal days prior to those moments, and yet I was still very unsure of my chances because I knew I was up against some tough competition: veteran staffers of high school publications, and liberal arts majors who looked like they had more personality in their thumbs than I did in my entire body. I remember beating myself up for backing out of my second choice (hi Vantage), which would significantly decrease my chances of getting in. It's just that I knew I was incapable of submitting anything that wasn't half-assed at that point, and I couldn't bear to show them anything that I myself could not give an Angel Seal of Approval.

Thankfully, all of my hard work paid off eventually. Only two days after I had submitted the folder containing my requirements to the respective editor, I was working on a paper in a cafe (the table adjacent to the door of Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, Robinsons Galleria, to be very exact) when I received the acceptance letter in my inbox. I burst into tears, crumpled to the floor, and replied with the most articulate response I could muster: “SKLDFJSDLKFJSDLKFJSDLFJSLFSDKJ THANK YOU SO MUCH I am literally crying in the middle of this coffee shop.... thank you.... so much....”

As of this writing, I've published two articles under Features: one about the ghosting phenomenon that remains prevalent in romantic relationships, and another about the experiences of Ateneans with autism spectrum disorder. My job honestly feels like both work and a vacation at the same time, because it allows me to talk about a diverse set of topics with interesting people who are experts in the field, while doing what I feel like I'm best at. But, since a part of me will always consider Vantage my TOTGA, I took on some extra work for them and wrote a film review on "G!", a movie that came out as part of the Pista ng Pelikulang Pilipino earlier this year, which has proven itself to be the worst I've seen in my entire life for reasons I cannot even begin to explain. I didn't necessarily have high expectations of it upon seeing the trailer, but I hyped myself up for it nevertheless. I even bought tickets for me and my friend Christine online because I was afraid that they would be sold out, and we dashed out of our MSYS classroom as soon as our professor said goodbye to book a Grab and hurry to SM North EDSA to make it to our screening... only to barge in the theater and see that we were the only two people in the cinema. I mean, there was one couple in the far corner, but they didn't look very present. In addition to that, I did a food review on a JSEC stall called Chopsticks. I honestly think that food is the most challenging topic to write about, because it's hard to convey how something tastes. When someone asks me to describe the viand I'm eating, I often end up just giving them a spoonful so they can see for themselves. But, I hopped on it anyway, because how could I even say no to sampling an entire menu of Chinese food for free? Several plates of dimsum and chicken later, I gave them a well-deserved five star rating and consider myself as a frequent diner. The experience was made extra fun since I was able to chat with the owner of the business, and my photographer who turned out to be someone I followed on Instagram way back in 2015 and admired for how clean and curated her feed was! (Hi, Kim and Alexis hehe)

As if all of the things mentioned above weren't already enough, I also covered a talk on the future of scientists in the Philippines (which I also have an article on—this goes to show just how diverse the scope of my work can get), attended workshops on feature writing and the relation of journalism and mental health, participated in a rally against professors involved in sexual harassment cases in the Ateneo (pretty badass behavior, if you ask me!), and became a facilitator for a high school publication in this event called Point One. I guess I have The GUIDON to thank for my lack of writer's block: they've managed to keep my brain running on hyperdrive, and my creative juices flowing more than they ever have before.

Last but not the least, of course I chose to stay in my home organization, ACTM. Although I didn’t run for any position or apply to be a part of the Leaders Core (yet), I did my best to make myself visible and show my support in any of the events we participated in or projects that we spearheaded. I signed up as a part of the logistics subcore for the annual Prepcourse, where I helped out with set design and ran some errands for officers in the different booths they manned throughout that day. I honestly have a soft spot for the project, since I remember that the first time I felt genuinely happy during freshman year was during my own Prepcourse (Orsem didn't really do it for me, sorry friends) so even though I missed the chance to be a facilitator, I still wanted to be a part of the event in some way. I also hung out with blockmates and friends all throughout Tambay Week, supported our candidates for Mr. and Ms. SOM, as well as our dance team for RIB eliminations, and dressed up as Kim Possible for the annual Halloween party we held—I was even able to go with Ron Stoppable, thanks to my friend Iverson, who dressed up as him as a surprise.

Although the obvious highlight of my stay in ACTM so far has to be attending LEAP, a three-day leadership training seminar in Iba, Zambales. I remember this particular moment where I was wandering around the beachfront, lowkey frolicking in the water, while my groupmates were playing capture the flag. (In my defense, I was never the physically adept type of person, and knew I'd be helping my team out more if I stayed out of the playing area and cheered on them from the sidelines. But, anyway, I digress.) I could see the golden flecks of sunlight glistening on the waves, and the froth from the seawater hitting my toes, and when I looked back beyond the shore, I saw my friends having fun, running back and forth across the sand. As cliche as it sounds, I couldn't help but mutter to myself, "Wow."

Because at that time last year, I clearly remember being slumped on my couch, scrolling through one LEAP-related IG story after another, feeling this sense of FOMO that I didn't know how to deal with. On one hand, I hated that I wasn't part of something that looked equal parts fun and value-adding, but at the same time, I knew that if I were there, I'd be sticking out like a sore thumb and suffering all the more because I was at the point where social interaction had become physically painful for me. Maybe that's why this LEAP was extra special to me: besides all of the great people I met and the insights I picked up along the way, it served as a reminder of how far I've come, and how much farther I have to go during the rest of my stay in college.

(That honestly would have been the perfect way to end this post, but I have so much more I have to cover. How anti-climactic.)

Aside from my newfound love for organization life, I gained a lot of new friends and strengthened the ties I have with old ones. Back then, I was very selective of those I talked to and let in my circle: I let first impressions get the best of me, or allowed shyness to take center stage every time there was a chance to meet new people. Now, I'm close to both blockmates and batchmates: I go to their birthday celebrations, support events that they're a part of, hang out in their condo units to binge on fastfood, or sometimes just sit on the Matteo Steps with them in the middle of doing requirements to vent for 10 minutes before begrudgingly returning to our tables.

I miraculously also had time to sneak in some pretty fun stuff in my schedule despite my workload. Although I wasn’t able to prioritize making content for this blog, I got my writing on the national paper! It was in the first semester of my freshman year when I heard about Inquirer Youngblood from my English professor. Apparently, they accept essays about any topic under the sun from anyone aged 29 and below. Since I felt there would be no harm in trying, I crafted this little piece that aimed to show a different side of being an only child, as opposed to the “spoiled and entitled” stereotype that is usually stuck on us. I didn’t get my hopes up so as to not be disappointed, so when a couple of days had passed and my article wasn’t showing up on print, I gave up and moved on. Good thing my friend Bea sent me a photo of the September 8 issue of the newspaper (coincidentally the same day I got accepted into The GUIDON!), or else I wouldn’t have seen that I got published. I admit that even though writing is all I’ve ever really known since I was young, I’m not a hundred percent confident in my skill, nor do I always see the purpose behind what I do. But, it’s instances like that, that remind me of why I keep at it.

Another capital-G Great thing that happened was getting tickets to the UAAP men’s basketball championship game! As someone who made Ateneo her dream school at age five because of how much she loved the Blue Eagles, witnessing them end the season with a sweep and a championship was everything to me. And getting to do so with my closest friends in my block just made the experience even better than it was. Also, seeing Renzo Subido play in person—all my friends can attest to the fact that I was facing a huge moral dilemma mid-game, because every time he made a basket, I would end up cheering for him. (With a face like that, how could I not though)

I even found my way back in the gig scene after a long hiatus, with no less than Ang Bandang Shirley, Over October, and Munimuni welcoming me back with open arms. I had got tickets on a whim with my friend from my days as a full-on K-Pop stan, Reanna, even though it was the weekend before a big Accounting exam, if I remember correctly. But, I have no regrets: I have a feeling that very few moments in life can make me feel the way I did when Umaapaw (one of my favorite songs in the world) was being played right in front of me. Surprisingly, I didn't cry when that happened—same for Wait and Sa Hindi Pag-alala, but then again maybe I was too dazed to process what was going on.

I saw Ben&Ben just a week ago, which served as the perfect way to cap off this stressful semester. The last time I saw them was way back in October 2018: conflicts in schedule due to prior commitments, or location issues kept getting in the way that it's like they had to take matters into their own hands and head on over to Ateneo just so I could see them again. Although they didn't perform my favorite song, I can't exactly say that I was disappointed because nothing really beats the feeling of seeing them and singing along to tracks that have served as the soundtrack of my life, and are practically etched on my heart. (I am actually tearing up just writing this paragraph god am I emo! I miss them already, wow! Just wanna hear Araw-Araw live, what do I do about this!)

I also managed to finish all 10 seasons of Friends despite my irregular viewing patterns—I started it during our trip to the States before the school year began, and constantly teetered between watching one or two episodes as a reward for finishing a reading due the next day and binging one season during rare weekends that do not require working on deliverables but honestly could have been used to get ahead in lessons. This is a pretty big deal, considering that I have the attention span of a sleep-deprived cockroach and haven't finished a single White People Show since... well, Austin & Ally back in 2017 (which I actually marathoned on Dailymotion, but that's a story for another day). But, I guess there's just something special about this group of pals going through the motions of their everyday lives in the eccentric, sometimes borderline stupid ways that only they can, because I admit: the emotional investment was and is very, very real! I personally identify myself as a Chandler-Rachel hybrid now (thank you, Iverson), try to see which character the people I meet are like most out of fun, and argue to no end with anyone who ever claims that Ross and Rachel (1) were on a break, and (2) are endgame.

Most importantly, I was able to do all of this and still clinch a spot on the Dean's List. I started this semester on an optimistic note: I found all of my subjects interesting, and the professors who taught them, engaging. I'd even make notes on the readings the day before they were to be discussed in class, complete with pops of color here and there courtesy of my fineliner pens and Stabilo highlighters. But, once I reached the halfway point, my motivation started waning. Papers and quizzes, oral exams and video projects were thrown in my direction at breakneck speed: I often found myself cramming output for the sake of having something to submit, and not even having the time to look at readings due for discussion the following day. It came to a point where I thought of shifting out, because I felt I wasn't doing well enough in my majors to justify my stay. Sounds pretty stupid when I look back at it, I guess I simply mistook extreme stress and fatigue with falling out of love with the only program that I ever wanted to get in when I was applying for Ateneo. Thank God I didn't give up though, or else I wouldn't be able to enjoy the fruits of my labor right now. I honestly wasn't expecting stellar grades, considering the number of extracurricular commitments I took on, but now that they're there, I'm not complaining at all! Shoutout to my favorite professors of the semester: Mam Vaswani, who taught me that there is always room for improvement even in my own area of expertise; Sir Atienza, who made lectures feel like casual kwentuhans (or sometimes even chillnumans); and Sir Rebato, who broke the world record for longest patience in the world.

I guess it's safe to say that I am the happiest and most content I have been in a while, and although I am afraid of jinxing it, I feel like it's only gonna go upward from here. I am beyond excited to see where the new year and semester take me, because I know I'll do my part in making sure it's even better and brighter than this one. If you read up to this point, you deserve a pat on the back! Maybe you only scrolled to this point to see if there were any pictures with your face on them, but who cares! It adds to my website traffic, so thank you, happy holidays, and I wish you nothing but love and light always!

[southeastasianists]

Significant ironies surround Jose Rizal, my country’s national hero. On the one hand, he is ubiquitous. He is literally erected in monuments in almost every province, and inscribed in every peso coin most of us use every day. On the other hand, one can argue that there’s a lack of understanding of, even interest in, the life and works of this illustrious figure, whom a biographer once tagged as the ‘First Filipino.’

One can try to impress by mastering some trivia about him. For instance, one can recite his full name, or the order of his siblings. Nowadays, even knowing the exact date of his birthday can count as impressive.

For those of us who have gone to school, Rizal’s two novels, Noli me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, are primary avenues for learning about the national hero. Sadly for me, I was not able to make the most out of these minimums set by the education system for teaching Rizal.

This is quite a shame for a literature grad. Reading Noli and Fili during high school might have appeared as a chore to me when I was younger. It is not that I shirked or napped in our classes: the lack of genuine interest in the novels is more likely an effect of our beloved education system’s playing out its favourite game of rote learning and textbook-worshiping. Thankfully, I was more attentive during our Philippine Institutions class (The Life and Works of Jose Rizal) in college.

I remember reading both Noli and Fili in the abridged comic versions which are available in bookstores for less than a hundred pesos. During senior year in high school, discussions of the Fili were more intense and less deplorable compared to those of Noli a school year earlier. Reporters were assigned for each chapter and after the discussion, a quiz would be given. This compelled the class to actually read the chapters. That is why I have stronger memories of characters and events in Fili than Noli: the Physics class with Placido Penitente and the schoolboys, Simoun’s foiled bomb-explosion attempt, his death and the throwing of the chest at the end. In our P.I. (the compulsory Philippine Institutions) class, I remember the discussions focusing less on the literary texts than the social contexts of Rizal’s life and his creations.

It is a pity for me not having read these novels—not just as a Lit major, not just as a student, but as a Filipino. At a time when schooling, accessing and reading books is becoming more like a privilege, and the study of literature and the arts is becoming less popular and discouraged, we can just resign and totally relegate Rizal’s novels to the shelves, forgotten except by nerds.

I am not resigning. Not that I have finally started going back and rereading these novels. We are getting there. Precisely this renewed and altered interest in Noli and Fili was spurred months ago when I encountered two books that touch on them, albeit differently.

Benedict Anderson’s Why Counting Counts: A study of forms of consciousness and the problems of language in Noli and Fili took the arduous task of counting the occurrence of particular linguistic terms—racial or ethnic terms, political vocabulary among others—in the two novels. This microscopic approach sought to turn away from one that relies on ‘selective and often tendentious short quotations from the novels in order to force their author into particular politics’ (80). As an alternative, Anderson looked at contexts: the characters using the terms, the interlocutors and the context of the conversations.

Meanwhile, Vicente Rafael’s merely used a scene from Noli me Tangere to bookend his discussion of encounters between the indios and the colonising Spaniards in Contracting Colonialism: Translation and Christian Conversion in Tagalog Society under Early Spanish Rule. Early in the book, he commented on a scene in Noli where Padre Damaso was giving a sermon to the indios: ‘they “fish out” discreet words from the stream of the sermon, arbitrarily attaching them to their imaginings… the drift away from the content of the sermon only pulls them back with ‘redoubled attention. … It is as if they saw other possibilities in those words, possibilities that served to mitigate the interminable verbal assaults being hurled from the pulpit’ (3). This generally set the tone for the book and prepared us for much of its argument: how the colonisation process was not received in a standard, let alone deferential manner by the indios.

I mostly recall Damaso as the malicious and lecherous priest who scandalised us with his treatment of, and relationship to, Maria Clara. I hardly recall him giving a sermon, much more a sermon where the band of listeners yawns. I may have missed really immersing myself in Rizal’s novels when I was a student and simply submitted to the prescribed contents of school work. Now I am thanking other reading exposures which haunt me with the presence of Rizal in them, beckoning me to go back to San Diego as a text the way Crisostomo Ibarra returned there as a fleshly being at the onset of Noli.

‘Indio’ Over ‘Filipino’

How can seemingly trivial details prompt us to tease out less simplistic reflections on Rizal’s work? Anderson looked at the terms designating races and ethnicity in the two novels and here I would like to focus on the key distinction between the ‘indio’ and the ‘Filipino’. Said Anderson: ‘In the novel’s 354 pages, the use of Filipino to mean something not confined to creoles occurs only about 14 times, and never emerges from the mouths of either Tasio or Elias (both of which Anderson tagged as ‘politically conscious’ characters). When Elias described himself, what he says is ‘Soy un indio,’ not ‘Soy un Filipino.”‘ This points us to the way racial categories were stratified in the twilight decades of Spanish occupation. As Anderson also clarified, the peninsulares were the pure-bred Spaniards, born in Spain; the creoles were pure-bred Spanish but born in the Philippines; mestizos are interracial ones and indios as the pure ‘Filipinos.’

As much as the term ‘Filipino’ is yet to be used to collectively refer to the people of the country, an official term for this country (now ‘Philippines’) is also absent. Actually, the term ‘Filipinos’ was already used but it referred to the creoles; hence, Spaniards, not Filipinos like Rizal.

Can we not compare the way the word ‘indio’ was employed and owned by the colonized people to the way terms such as ‘queer’ or ‘the N-word’ were appropriated by oppressed groups in contemporary times? While the colonisers bandied about the tag ‘indio’ in a derogatory way, we can say that the Filipinos huddled around this designation in order to collectively identify themselves.

Following this, an anecdote by Ambeth Ocampo reported by Anderson becomes revealing: ‘when Rizal signed his consent to the document decreeing his execution, he crossed out the word “chino” describing himself and substituted not “Filipino” but “indio”’ (48). A cute reaffirmation of what we know already: Rizal’s allegiance to his fellow people, the indios then, we Filipinos today.

To Lay Bare and to Unsettle

How can we approach Rizal? Is there an essential Rizal which institutions such as schools, mass media and the government deliver immaculately to the public?

Towards the end of his book, Rafael recalled the ambivalence in the word ‘exponer’ Rizal used in the Preface to the novel. It could mean ‘to lay bare’ (i.e. the social cancer) but also ‘to put in danger, to hazard, to expose to chance’ (216).

There is no Rizal-at-his-core to be discovered. No Rizal’s essence to be fathomed. Only a Rizal to be used as guide to the continuing formation of one’s own belief, a Rizal to be continually read and discovered as a prospective guide to one’s life practices, a historical figure we can lay bare only to be further unsettled.

Rafael then went back to the sermon and the mood of ‘general paralysis’ it ironically inspired: ‘the Governor snores, the principales nod off, the rest of the clergy are rendered powerless to halt the chaotic stream of words from the pulpit.’ All these contribute to the ‘confounding of the social order’. The act of translation and imposing authority does not happen without a crease, without interrogations or refusals; the colonised do not simply defer.

The same process can be emphasised as the Philippines remembers Rizal’s 156th birthday. Given how bloody the current regime is turning out and how fast paced and ephemeral events are seeming, there is hardly an excuse for snoring and yawning like Damaso’s audience. But the potential to ask questions, to refuse and interrogate remains. We need to be more keen and critical in ‘laying bare’ and making sense of events, perhaps using Rizal’s heroism and his teachings about our history as a starting point. We can always go back to the basics, the so-called ‘foundational’ texts—in this case, the Noli and the Fili. But we can also detour and hunt texts that will inevitably lead us to their real foundations, enabling us to see them in renewed and heightened interest.

Clearly, we do not need a new designation where we can all band together, a term to replace ‘Filipino’. What is more urgently needed is the asking: what does it mean to be ‘Filipino’; who are our fellow ‘Filipinos’, and why band with them?

…………..

Ivan Labayne is part of the art collective Pedantic Pedestrians. He obtained his BA and MA in Language and Literature at the University of the Philippines-Baguio. His works have appeared in ‘Daluyan’, a UP literary publication, and the Ateneo de Manila’s peer-reviewed journal, ‘Kritika Kultura’. He blogs at ivanemilabayne.wordpress.com.

Header image: ‘Cool José Rizal’ by Flickr user Michael Francis McCarthy, used under Creative Commons.

[actualbird]

(wc: 2.8k. michael is the Sawi Best Friend . pining + pining + pining = pining. part 1. part 2. part 3. or read everything here on ao3)

The English Project Christine Crisis begins with Jeremy wordlessly sitting next to Michael during lunch, back stiff, face pale, looking a little bit like a gargoyle that just saw another, uglier gargoyle, before grabbing his bag and raptor screeching right into it.

“I have no idea what you’re doing or why you’re doing it, but honestly? Hard same,” Michael says, patting Jeremy’s back as his screeching slowly dies down into pained warbling. “Let it all out, buddy.”

“Mmmmmmrrr,” Jeremy says into his bag. He turns his head to face Michael, face creased from the bag, “Dude, do you ever feel like sometimes the universe is trying to be nice to you but it’s spent so long being a dick to you that everything is still kinda awful?”

“Uh,” Michael says. “I’m going to need a little bit more context.”

“Like, are you ever given a really, really good thing, but it’s the worst thing ever at the same time?”

“Okay, I catch your drift now,” Michael’s got the worst crush on his incredible best friend, so yeah, he gets it. Michael pats Jeremy’s head. “Wanna tell me what’s up?”

“Christine,” Jeremy sighs dreamily.

“Was she, like, extra cute in the hallway today or something?”

“She’s always cute in the hallway,” Jeremy says. “But uh, in English today, there’s this paper we’ve gotta write.”

“Uh huh.”

“And it’s by pair.”

“Alright.”

“And Christine was assigned as my partner,” he says, voice getting more urgent with each word.

“Well, that’s great news, isn’t it?” Michael grins, but Jeremy just looks like somebody just killed a bunny in front of him.

“It isn’t! I’m going to have to talk to her and spend time with her and stuff and it’ll be great but I’ll mess everything up because I always do,” He groans, burying his face back into his bag. Michael has to lean in to hear the rest of his muffled words. “How are people even supposed to function around people they like?”

Michael, expert at functioning around a person he likes, decides to be sympathetic. “Okay, first off? You don’t always mess everything up. That’s my best friend you’re talking about, so don’t be too hard on him,” he ruffles Jeremy’s hair. “It’ll be fine, okay? Just act like you normally do.”

“Anxious, tense, and weird?”

“Funny, sincere, and interesting,” Michael says, fingers threading through Jeremy’s hair. “A little awkward sometimes, but hey, who isn’t?”

“You’re my best friend, you’re practically contractually obligated to think all that,” he grumbles, but then he looks at Michael. “Thanks, though. Also, if you keep touching my hair like that, I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“Whoops,” Michael jerks his traitorous hand away. “So, uh, what’s project about?”

“The Tempest,” Jeremy answers, smiling a little bit. “Christine and I talked about it a little before class ended, and she was so excited, god it was so cute. It’s dumb, but I wish she’d get excited about me too.”

“Geez, dude, this project sure is going to be wild ride, huh? You just switched from dreamy lovey dovey to mega sawi in under a second.”Jeremy makes a questioning noise, one that Michael’s come to understand as Jeremy’s shortcut for what did that mean now that lately, Michael’s been speaking a bit more Filipino around him.

“Sawi literally means ‘unlucky’, in English, but lately it’s been kind of specific to describe people who are down in the dumps and shit when your love life is kind of crummy,” Michael explains.

“Why the hell does your language have so many fitting words about love?” and Jeremy’s face is back in his bag again.

“No idea, dude,” Michael sighs, wondering the exact same thing.

-

Here’s the thing about Jeremy:

He’s a big ball of nerves who’s anxious ninety percent of his waking life. He second guesses his second guesses and doubts as if he’s being paid good money to. He tries to hide it, but he’s bitter and pissed off about a lot of things in life like his parents or his social standing. Sometimes, even if he doesn’t mean it, he’s a bit of an asshole. The state of Jeremy’s self-esteem, based on what Michael’s seen, is akin to an on fire screaming garbage can that keeps setting itself back on fire every time Michael tries to put it out.

But he also wears these dumb cardigans that are really soft and often are too long, covering his hands til only his fingers peek out. He’s got a weird, adorable, wheezy laugh that’s a remnant of the asthma he grew out of when he turned eleven. He keeps a paperclip or two in his pockets all the time to give to Michael just in case Michael feels like he needs to fidget with something. He always remembers Michael’s birthday. His Filipino is atrocious, but he tries to speak words and phrases of it anyway.

The thing about Jeremy is that he’s pretty much the best person Michael knows.

-

heerefarwhereveryouare is calling…

“Coolest guy on the planet speaking, how may I help you?” Michael wedges his phone between his head and shoulder so he can continue to rinse plates with his hands. On the line, Jeremy lets out a very emotional screech. “Uh, buddy?”

“Are you busy right now?” Jeremy asks.

“Just dishes,” Michael grabs another plate. “What’s up? I thought you went to Christine’s place for the project?”

“Exactly! I mean, I’m home now, but, oh my god! I went to Christine’s house!”

“Ohhhh, I get it, this is call is going to be gushing about the whole experience, am I right?” Michael says fondly.

“No—I mean, yeah, but, you know.”

“It’s alright, Jer, you don’t have to justify it,” Michael thinks that if he actually had any other friends, he’d love to gush about Jeremy to them. Alas, he wasn’t as lucky. “Go for it.”

“For real?”

“It would be a privilege to have your sonorous voice wax poetic while I get sudsy with plates,” Michael tells him sincerely. “Unleash the raving dude. I am ready.”

“Okay, well,” Jeremy says. “Okay. Okay. I’ll start from the top. So like, she lives pretty nearby so we walk and it’s kind of awkward for a bit? I’m like, agh, fuck it, so I just say whatever the hell is on my mind and it turns out what that was was dolphins.”

“You fucking furry.”

“Says the guy who followed Meerkat Manor religiously,” Jeremy fires back with no hesitation. Michael has never been prouder of his boy. “There was a documentary about them on Animal Planet a few days ago focusing on their sonar powers so I just kind of blurt that out weirdly. I wanted to like, dive into a gutter and die, but then she just keeps asking about it? She got really interested in it. At one point, she makes this adorable dolphin noise, it was—” Jeremy makes a noise which Michael understands fully. Michael also feels very random noise over cute shit Jeremy does all the time.

“See? Being sincere works! Even if it’s about dolphins,” Michael laughs. “How’d the rest go?”

“Uh, well, we we’re productive, for most of it. We drafted what parts of the drama we wanted to expound on,” Jeremy sighs. “She’s really, really, smart Michael. I’m okay in English, but she’s a genius. She’s so passionate and perceptive about the themes and ironies present in the text. She’s a huge theatre kid and she’s super excited for the school play which is gonna have their sign ups soon. Dude, if she signs up, I will too.”

“Nice!” He smiles. “I’m loving the confidence!”

“Yeah, I—She’s just really confident with herself so she makes me want to try to, if that makes sense?”

“Of course it does. I’m glad she’s bringing this out in you, man.”

“I am too,” Jeremy sighs, ridiculously fond. It’s a soft sound, but it echoes in Michael’s head, bouncing off the walls of his brain, clattering around, causing all kinds of shit like aches in his chest or a hunch to his back. Oh, how he wishes. He wishes, real bad.

“Michael? Michael, you still there?” Jeremy voice brings him back. Right. Rinsing a plate and on the phone with a boy who’s got no idea.

“Yeah, still here, dude,” Michael says. “Just zoned out a bit. You know how I get with the dishes. All the soap gets really existential.”

Jeremy snorts, “Whatever you say, man. Listen, I’ve gotta go. I promised Christine I’d message her the google doc link to what we made today. Thanks for listening, Michael! You’re the greatest.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Michael dries his hands. “Good night, dude.”

“Night!” and Jeremy hangs up.

Michael takes a deep breath. Then another. And another. He runs a hand down his face and thinks, fuck. Michael is happy. He’s gotta be happy. His best friend is actually interacting with the girl he’s crushing on, so Michael is over the moon. But the tight feeling in his throat stubbornly says otherwise.

Sawi doesn’t even begin to describe whatever this is now.

-

Here’s the thing about Michael:

His head is a cluttered mess that goes eighty eight miles per hour basically every second, but never in any useful direction. He likes obscure stuff that not many other people can relate to. He gets that sometimes he speaks too fast or is too loud or generally just is too much, but doesn’t know how to tone himself down. He’s weird and uncool but he’s also aware that there’s honestly nothing wrong with that as long as he’s having fun. He’s a loner, but he doesn’t care because he’s got Jeremy.

Michael’s also been Jeremy’s best friend ever since they met twelve years ago at some undisclosed sandbox where Jeremy talked to him out of nowhere holding a beetle in his hands. He’s seen Jeremy at his highest (first place at the sixth grade science fair with his experiment that tested out the slipperiness of certain fruit peels), and his lowest (“Michael? Can I come over? Uh, well, I’m fine, I swear. It’s just—mom left and. I’m fine, I’m—”). He slowly dug himself a hole of non platonic feelings for his best friend and only noticed he didn’t bring a ladder with him to get out once he was already in too deep.

The thing about Michael is that he’s had a lot of practice at this.

-

Somebody taps Michael’s shoulder in the hallway and he almost has a heart attack. He turns around slowly, apprehensive, because Jeremy never touches Michael out of nowhere without clear visual warning, so it’s either a bully, an axe murderer, or the heaviest fly in the world.

None of the above. Michael has to look down a little bit to see Christine Canigula waving at him sheepishly.

“Uh,” Michael pulls his headphones down. This is odd. People don’t talk to Michael. Christine is people. He should probably say something. “Hi?”

“Hi, uh, I don’t know if you know me,” Christine says, gesturing wildly already despite only having spoken for two seconds. “But you’re Jeremy Heere’s friend right? Michael?”

“Yep, that’s me,” Michael smiles. Nickname wise, Jeremy Heere’s Friend is a lot better than Anti-Social Headphones Kid. He hopes it catches on. “You’re Christine.”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Jeremy talks about you a lot,” he says because he’s a goddamn good friend, damn it. “Like a lot. You’re a great English partner. The absolute best, if his words are to be believed.”

“He’s just overselling me,” she laughs. It’s a dorky, wheezy laugh, Jesus Christ, they’re made for each other. “Jeremy’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, he’s like, the softest boy in the world,” Michael tells her.

“I really like your patches,” she segues, pointing at the Rise Above Racism one in particular.

“Thanks. I really like your dress.” Michael says, for the lack of anything else to say. There was never a walkthrough on how to do smalltalk. It really is a nice dress, though.

“Thanks!”

“So, uh,” Michael fiddles with the wire of his headphones. “What’s up?”

“Oh! Right,” Christine blinks, slinging her backpack off her shoulders. “He forgot his cardigan back at my place, yesterday. I could’ve returned it tomorrow, when we have class, but he’s pretty thin so I was worried that he might get too cold. I really don’t want my English partner to die from, like, hypothermia, or something. Especially since he’s been a great partner. I’m really glad I got paired with him, because I’m pretty sure everybody else in the class doesn’t really care all that much about the text. It’s like, there’s a reason Shakespeare is timeless, y’know? But a lot of people nowadays don’t wanna give it a chance long enough to see just how incredible all his works were, and still are, even now!” She says, impressively, all in one breath.

“Yeah, dude, rock on Shakespeare,” Michael smiles, kind of taken aback, but charmed all the same. Michael’s about as straight as a circle, but he can see why Jeremy likes Christine. “Jeremy’s the raddest.”

“Rad!” Christine cheers, Jeremy’s cardigan in hand. It’s adorable. “Here, you go. Heh, Heere. Heere you go.”

“Oh geez, I’ll tell him you said that, he’ll lose his shit,” Michael laughs.

“Nice,” she rocks back and forth on her feet, then suddenly she jolts, as if remembering. “Whoa, wait, sorry I’ve gotta run. Thank you so much, Michael. See you around!”

And she whirls off, walking away with a happy skip in her step.

-

Here’s the thing about Christine:

Michael doesn’t know her. He knows the adoring stained glass image collage of her that Jeremy has created through dreamy anecdotes and forlorn sighs. He’s aware that there might be a lot different between that image and the real Christine Canigula, but just by going off of what he’s seen, Christine is a great girl

She’s nerdy and unapologetically passionate about her interests. She’s a little all over the place, but so is Jeremy. She smiles a lot and happiness trails after her like an devoted puppy. She layers clothes like a boss. Michael doesn’t know her all that well, but she makes Jeremy happy.

The thing about Christine is that she makes Jeremy happy. And that’s the most important fucking thing.

-

“Dude, are you wearing my cardigan?” Jeremy asks later when they meet for lunch.

“Sure am,” Michael says, picking up his juice carton. “I bumped into Christine earlier and she told me you forgot it and gave it to me instead of waiting to see you tomorrow because she was worried your skinny ass would die from the cold.”

“She was worried about me?” Jeremy smiles like a dweeb, before blinking and saying, “Wait, that doesn’t explain why you’re wearing my cardigan, though.”

“It’s soft as fuck,” Michael bites his straw to hell and back. “You can have it back after lunch.”

“Fair enough,” he says, starting to eat whatever mush it is the cafeteria served today. “So what’d you think?”

“Of what?”

“Christine,” Jeremy says. “That’s the first time you met her, right?”

Michael nods, deciding to pick on Jeremy a little bit. “She’s nice, I guess.”

“You guess,” he hisses. “That’s it, take off the cardigan. Only people who appreciate Christine for all her glory is allowed to wear it.”

“Agh! I’m kidding, I’m kidding, she’s incredible and perfect and she’ll wage an army of puppies to fight off people who don’t like Shakespeare,” Michael laughs, batting away Jeremy’s grabby hands.

Jeremy huffs, sitting back down, and he’s silent for a moment. Then he says, “I think I might tell her soon.”

Those seven words rattle in his head. Clang, clang, clang, motherfucker. But Michael’s been doing this long enough to expertly cram all of it into a box in the corner of his mind for later. Priority number one: Jeremy. Always.

“Dude! So proud! High five,” Michael raises his hand. Jeremy sheepishly swats at it. Close enough. “How are you going to do it?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead yet,” he grumbles. “I always stutter and forget how to talk when I’m around her.”

“Maybe you can try writing a letter?” Michael suggests past the tight feeling in his throat. “She’ll love something like that.”

“You really think so?” Jeremy smiles, a little unsure, a little perfect.

“I know so,” Michael assures him. “And whatever happens, I’ll be here to help you through, ‘kay?”

“Thanks, Michael,” Jeremy leans his head against Michael’s shoulder. “What would I do without you?”

“Probably crash and burn,” he says, swallowing all the aches down.

-

His point is this. Christine, should she ever like Jeremy back—which is highly probable given that Jeremy is a fucking catch—would be really good for Jeremy. They’d be really good for each other. They’re both nerdy and cute and they’d be so good.

Michael might be the pining best friend, but really, he’s a best friend first. Best friends make best friends happy. Above all, Jeremy deserves that.

Even if it’s with somebody else.

(not as much filipino in this part :^(((. i’ll make it up in the later chapters [prayer hands emoji])

[finn-nelson-for-the-win]

Hiya everyone!

I’ve had a lot of time to write recently and I may or may not have written the next 5 chapters, so to keep these chapters coming out on a regular basis, I figured now was as good of a time as any to post chapter 5…A large portion of this chapter was initially part of my chapter 4 update, but I decided to split it up to prevent chapter 4 from being like 10,000 words lol. Luckily, I was able to get this chapter back down under my 3,000 words or less goal (I feel like that’s a decent length, but if you prefer longer chapters let me know and maybe I won’t be as strict on myself with that goal.)

So picking up where my last post left off, Rae is overwhelmed by her recent realization that Finn could be reciprocating some of her romantic feelings, so she reaches out to some of her most trusted friends for advice…but will they tell her what she is hoping to hear? This chapter is practically an exact depiction of how I handled this situation not that long ago (and yes, before you ask, I am that annoying when I’m texting friends while freaking out hahaha) and once again most of these texts came straight from the group chat with some of my long-distance friends…

I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always each and every one of you that read, like, reblog, send massages, etc. mean the world to me and help me get off my ass and keep writing regardless of whatever shittiness I’m going through in my life right now, so thank you! ❤️

Click here if you’d like to get caught up on the first 4 chapters! 😁

Planting the Seed of Doubt

Rae’s hands were shaking—whether from excitement or overwhelming nerves, she was still uncertain of—as she unlocked her cellphone with the passcode and opened up the group chat conversation between two of her closest friends that were going to Uni on opposite side of the country from her. She had known Abigail and Chloe since they were kids and she knew that they would know exactly how Rae should be handling the situation.

Rae: Girls! OMG RED ALERT I HAVE SOME HUGE FUCKING NEWS

She placed her phone back on the stone table, taking a seat and anxiously awaiting her friends’ responses, nearly bouncing with anticipation. When her phone finally buzzed twice consecutively, Rae jumped, startled out of her distracted state before checking the messages she received.

Chloe: What is it Rae?

Abigail: Is everything ok? Are YOU ok Rae?

Rae: So you do girls remember that guy I told you about last month? My coworker with all the tattoos and the earring!?!

Abigail: Yeah, I remember you mentioning him and saying that he was a total knobhead…

Chloe: OMG RAE DID YOU TWO SHAG!?! I could sense the sexual tension between you and him with the last story you told us about him!! ;) ;) <3

Rae: Yeah, that’s him Abbie…And no, Chlo! WE DID NOT FUCKING SHAG!!!

Rae: When I first told you about him I had only just started working here and I described him to you two as the Bad Boy/Douchebag in every teen romance movie that you like watching!

Rae: Which was not meant as a compliment!!! >:(

Rae should have anticipated that Chloe would immediately assume that she was texting them to say that Rae had let Finn “whack it in her”, as Chloe has so eloquently put it on more than one occasion.

Chloe: What’s the news then? :/

Rae rolled her eyes in disbelief when she realized that Chloe was less than thrilled that Rae was not contacting her to brag about her recent “sexcapades” with her coworkers.

Why am I not surprised?

Rae’s phone buzzed against the table where she had set it down, indicating that she had received another text message.

Abigail: Yeah, Rae. The anticipation is killing me!!!! D:

Rae: Ok, so the bad boy/douche I told you two a bit about is named Finn, ok?

Rae knew that it would take a while to explain the situation via text, so she got into a comfortable position at the table in the garden she was sitting at and prepared to give her best mates the abridged version of her recent workplace flirtations with Finn.

Chloe: Go on

Abbie: Oh, that’s a cute name! Carry on…

Rae: So I just found out from my best mate at work that two weeks ago Finn was dumped by his girlfriend and he came to work the next day feeling kind of upset. Well, he sat by my friend and I and I guess he liked talking to us a lot because he has continued sitting next to us every day at work since then!

Chloe: So what, Rae? How is that big news?

Rae: WELL…TWO FUCKING WEEKS AGO WAS WHEN THIS TWAT STARTED BEING REALLY FRIENDLY WITH ME AND I JUST NOW REALIZED THAT THE DAY AT WORK WHEN HE HAD JUST BROKEN UP WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND WAS ALSO THE DAY HE SPENT THE ENTIRE DAY AT WORK STARING AT ME AND OGLING MY TITS!

Rae: HOW THE FUCK DID THAT NOT OCCUR TO ME?!?! THAT CAN’T JUST BE A COINCIDENCE, RIGHT?!?!

Abigail: OH MY GOD, RAE! That’s insane!! Do you like him more now or do you still think he’s a “complete knob” like you said last time?

Rae was very happy to see that Abbie was already excited for her, but she couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Chloe’s mind upon reading these texts, since the read receipt on her phone indicted that Chloe had read the texts but she had yet to respond back.

Rae: I DON’T KNOW!! I’VE GOTTEN TO KNOW HIM A BIT MORE SINCE HE’S BEEN SITTING NEXT TO ME…AND A FEW OF MY COWORKERS EITHER THINK WE WOULD WORK AS A COUPLE OR THINK THAT WE ARE ALREADY SECRETLY A COUPLE!!!

Rae: AND OH MY LORD, ABBIE, HE IS SO FUCKING FIT! <3 ;)

Abigail: So what are ya gonna do then, Rae?

Rae: I have no fucking clue! That’s why I wanted to text you two…

Rae noticed the three dots appear that indicated that someone was typing and tried to keep calm as she waited to see what advice her best friends had for her.

Chloe: Don’t take this personally Rae, but are you sure you’re not reading into the situation too much? I mean this guy you’ve been talking to and sit next to at work sometimes happens to be single. That doesn’t really seem like flirting to me Rae…

Ugh, typical fucking Chloe…

Rae: Chlo…you had to have been there. I didn’t think he would ever be flirting with me either, but a number of my coworkers think that he’s been flirting with me constantly for the last couple weeks.

Rae: And there’s been a few times where I’ve caught him checking me out when he thinks I won’t notice!!!

Rae: And sometimes he’ll touch my hand or my nose or just touch me in general and I can feel a literal spark between us…AND I THINK HE MIGHT FEEL THE SPARK SOMETIMES TOO!!!!!

Rae was typing faster than she could think at this point and was sending a series of short texts instead of one coherent message, but she was too caught up in the moment to care how annoying she normally found it when her friends did the same thing.

Chloe: Well are you sure he isn’t just being friendly? Some guys are just flirty and tactile in nature, but they don’t really mean anything by it, you know? Maybe he’s like that with all the girls you work with, you just haven’t been paying attention.

Rae had gone into this conversation overjoyed and hoping to have two of her closest mates from before Uni give her the push she needed to make a move with Finn, but even with Abigail’s support, what Chloe had said planted the seed of doubt within Rae’s head and she could not help but second-guess every interaction and conversation she has had with Finn since the first time he spoke to her nearly a month ago.

Rae had been in the Secret Garden much longer than she realized when she happened to glance at the time at the top of her cellphone screen and noticed that her last class of the day had already started. Seeing no point in attending class if she was going to be late anyway, Rae gathered her belongings and left the garden, locking the door again behind her and started the hour long walk back to her apartment from her Uni campus.

When Rae walked into her apartment, the sun had already gone down and she knew that it was beginning to get late. Having not eaten all day, Rae went to the kitchen to determine what she could cook herself to eat before getting started on homework; however, after being unimpressed by any prospective meals she could cook, she decided against cooking.

Ugh…fuck it..I need to relax a bit anyways

Rae grabbed the nearly full bottle of white wine she had in the refrigerator, forgoing the glass, and headed to her room to begin working on some of her homework assignments.

When Rae was satisfied with the progress she had made on all of her assignments, she opted to redirect her attention to binge watching shows on Netflix. Despite her efforts to get her mind off of the events of today, she still found herself unsure about where she stood with Finn and her mind was full of unanswered questions that were inescapable and had not been quieted by the wine she had been sipping up to this point.

What would even give me the idea that Finn could like me? Chloe is probably right, Finn acts like this with all our female coworkers, huh?

Have I ever seen him talk to other girls at work? Maybe once or twice, but mainly just me and Izzie, and he certainly treats me differently than her…

But why would he be acting so friendly to me out of no where? And why are Archie and Izzie convinced that there could be something between Finn and I?

Why would Finn ever settle for me when he can have anyone he wanted?

Is Finn just taking the piss? Is this just the most well-played prank in the history of the world?

Why would Finn do this to me if we were becoming friends? Or was that all part of his plan too?

But what about all the stolen glances and the banter Finn and I have? Archie is right, that can’t possibly just be a thing between friends and it seems too real to be made up, right? And why would Finn have spent an entire shift at work checking me out and starting at my boobs if he wasn’t interested in me?

Or is he just interested in me to check “shagged a fat girl” off his bucket list? Or even worse, does he realize how much I fancy him and he’s just being nice to me out of pity?

I didn’t even really like him like that until after he started sitting with Izz and I more regularly, so that couldn’t be the reason why, could it?

Rae’s mind kept racing and she kept drinking the wine straight from the bottle, in what seemed to be an attempt to find the answers to all these questions and everything else plaguing her mind at the bottom of the bottle.

Before long, Rae tilted her head back, willing the final drops of wine to fall from the bottle.

Wine is so fucking gross…

Rae tried to stand up from her desk chair to take the now empty wine bottle into the kitchen, suddenly becoming aware of how much the wine was taking effect when everything in her line of sight began to soften around the edges and blur slightly. Standing on shakey legs, Rae slowly walked to her kitchen and added the wine cork to her small collection and put the bottle in the recycling bin.

Rae walked into her bedroom just as the beginning notes to Fade Into You by Mazzy Star flowed through the Bluetooth speakers playing music from her Spotify playlist and she soon found herself swaying gently to the music with her heavy eyes barely remaining open.

The next song that came on the playlist that was set to shuffle was Roads by Portishead, and while Rae continued to sway and swivel her hips to the beat of the music, she soon realized that there were silent tears running down her face.

I’m dancing and I’m crying…Shit! I forgot that wine makes me an emotional drunk…as if I needed to be any more emotional after the long day I’ve had.

***

The next morning Rae awoke feeling like shit and likely looking just as bad, but she leapt out of bed when she looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table and realized that she had slept through her alarm and would likely be late for work.

Shit shit FUCK shit shit…no more sudden movements, Rae!

Her head was pounding and she suddenly remembered exactly why she had promised herself that she would not drink alone anymore, but for the first time in over half a day, Finn was not on her mind.

She took a quick shower in the coldest water she could handle, trying to wake herself up and sober up a bit, before throwing on a pair of denim skinny jeans, a black and white band tee, and her favorite black high top converse and rushing out the door of her apartment.

She made the 15 minute walk to work in just less than half that time and was flushed when she walked into the office, scanned her badge at the machine on the wall, and took the open seat next to Izzie.

She sighed a breath of relief, since she was only 5 minutes late to work, as she logged into her computer and Izzie greeted her; however, she soon noticed that the person she had become accustomed to sitting next to for over two weeks now was not in his usual spot at her side.

Where is Finn? Oh shit…he knows…I don’t know what exactly it is that he knows, but I’m sure he knows.

“Rae? Are ya alright? You don’t look so good…” Izzie asked, the concern evident in her voice as she gently laid her hand on top of Rae’s where it sat on the desk beside her computer keyboard.

“I’m ok Izz, thanks…I just had a lot on my mind last night and I tried to quiet my mind with some wine…well, a lot of wine, actually…” Rae grimaced, faintly remembering the taste and dull burn of the wine that she had quickly become numb to by the time she finished the bottle.

“Rae, you know better than that,” Izzie began with the tone of a mother who was disappointed in the actions of her unruly child, but her tone and facial features softened almost immediately, “do ya need anything for your head? Or some coffee or tea?”

Tea and coffee sounded tempting to Rae, but she knew that getting some food into her system to help absorb the alcohol should be her top priority.

“No, my head is fine, thanks. I’ll be okay, I just finished off the entire bottle of wine I was drinking last night and I hadn’t eaten anything all day, so I just have a bottle of wine rotting away in my belly with no food to help soak it all up.” Rae chuckled slightly when Izzie’s eyebrows raised in surprise at her statements.

“You need to be more careful, girl! We can’t have you being reckless like that and feeling like shit at work, now can we?” Finn said as Rae turned a little too quickly in her desk chair to realize that he was sitting on the opposite side of the aisle of desks next to Hannah and he had been eavesdropping on Rae’s conversation with Izzie that whole time.

He gave her a genuine smile, but she could just barely make out the concern in his eyes when he looked her over briefly.

“Yeah…none of this was really planned out, but I’ll try to be more careful, Finn.”

“That’s all I’m asking of ya, Mae!” He replied before turning around in his chair to face his computer screen again and get back to work.

Rae made it through her shift at work—but not without some difficulty—and as her and Izzie were walking back to their apartments after work together Rae cleared her throat and asked the question that had been on her mind all day.

“So Izz, do you know why Finn wasn’t sitting near us today?”

“Uh, no, I don’t actually…I just walked in and saw him sitting next to Hannah when I got into work…how odd.” Izzie shrugged and changed topic of conversation to one of her particularly difficult customers she had been contacted by; however, Rae found herself perplexed by Finn’s unexplained change of seating for the second time in less than a month.

@eveerez @tinakegg @hey1tskat1e @bitchesbecrazy89 @kneekeyta @milllott @protectfinnnelson @arathewallflower @jackiewalsh2013 @pink-royaute @i-dream-of-emus 

Wanna be added to the tag list? Let me know and I’ll be happy to help ya out!

[neurunique]

Hopefully this app don’t crash

Cause I’m about to write a RitalinRealisation🌈

First things first, I write so much shit before I get to the final point. So if ya get impatient skip to the end but trust me it’ll be WORTH IT.

was sitting in bed studying chemistry work when I realised something.

So for most of my life up until I started medication, I had symptoms of “bipolar 2”, ADD, autism spectrum, obsessive compulsive... etc. let’s just go short version and say I’m on the spectrum with a bit of manic depression occasionally (it’s honestly so rare I tried medication for it once and I turned into a zombie and I’ve received cognitive therapy for it so I’m STABLE that’s the main part) with VERY TEMPORARY and STRANGE attention span.

So let’s talk like... obsessions or “special interests”.

Whole life filled with obsessions where my brain just would. Not. Even. Try. To pay attention to ANYTHING other than the special interest; every conversation dictated by it etc, people be like can you talk about anything else? Like looool. Funny to look back at that (I still do it occasionally. It ain’t a bad thing I love it just damn it had some impact on those around me) and so when I got super obsessed my BRAIN would be like I Am SO HAPPY, I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS, THIS IS SO INTERESTING! TIS IS MY LIFE NOW. EVERYTHING REVOLVES around it, and it’s all I want to do, EVER. So like naturally my school grades were up and down during obsession phases, like, sometimes I’d get straight A in assignments I could relate TO THE OBSESSIONS. Like fuck me the train of thought would just COME. So I was good at that, most reports from school were like “Petal is amazing at what she’s INTERESTED IN but won’t even THINK about trying what she isn’t” (could’ve used Ritalin a long time ago tbh but irrelevant). Anyway anyway . DOPAMIne. That’s what I realised today. DOPAMIne and obsessions ! I draw write sing imagine... to do with the obsession and then bam dopamine. High of life . Who cares why, fights at home or rejection from peers it’s FINE I just DOPAMINE. It’s all I needed. And so yes, whenever I GO OFF MY MEDS IVE NOTICED

That like (why is Tumblr’s enter gap so huge ) I get that obsession mindset again, like I can’t do anything without the special interest. With my meds, the interest is still there, but my dopamine or mood is like LEVEL and not DEPENDENT on the obsession. Like I can do shit, study and converse and socialise and learn social skills I never did , with the dopamine levelled our. So like Ritalin doesn’t give me skills, it gives me balance . and when I go off it, I get “manic” as others see it, however it’s literally just the increase of dopamine due to the obsession dependence returning (literally opposite of drug dependence; the drug is the antidote and my brain is the dependence)

I’m literally just Sherlock Holmes addicted to my brain like a narcissist

AnywAaaay

So the times I’ve written bullions of fanfics about sonic? ~”manic episode” as they say MORE LIKE SUPER INVOLVED IN MY SPECIAL INTEREST

Gaming for ten hours to make one goal? Not manic just hyper focused because I love the game and the act and the repetition .

So yep. The conclusion is essentially this: my special interests are pervasive as fuck and luckily I can manage them with the use of awareness of sugar intake and dopamine levels otherwise influenced by things apart from medication; Ritalin helps me regulate dopamine but to be honest it sends me to sleep half the time (probably cu when I have the dopamine already, it’s like no sleepy time no mania for you); and it helps me be human - for the most part! I still burn out like a motherfucker, even on it - social interactions are draining during times of adjustment or stress (mostly always); I can only manage one or two a day now that I live with my partner. I could literally achieve a fucking whole novel if it was about my obsession (current ones are seven deadly sins and sonic of course although that ones kinda melting a bit, BAN FOR LIFE) without Ritalin to regulate myself, like I don’t feel dead inside on medication as some peopl describe it , I more feel like I can put aside those intense urges and addictions towards my obsessive behaviours and just carry on and FOCUS on things that aren’t the obsessions

Honestly if it wasn’t for the fact I get special interests, most of my symptoms would just be ADD. But ASD INCLUDES like special interests and social cues deterance (I been learning thougu, thanks to focus being level). So yeppp.

Oh also, Ritalin is more effective for me than Dexies because:

Dexies actually increase dopamine directly whereas Ritalin is simply a “dopamine reuptake” so like in my mind I feel like it doesn’t release dopamine , it simply does what the brain needs (my brain). Hence why people probably prefer aderall over Ritalin for study drugs whereas Ritalin helps me actually function,

If I’m tired, it’ll wake up a bit. Or it’ll send me to sleep. If I’m deep in mania or dependence on obsess, it’ll send me to sleep or bring me back to reality.

Antipsychotics don’t work on me; they make the world blurry and fuzzy and confusing; I am not psychotic and it doesn’t calm me down and it just makes me more anxious.

Tried to ask for benzos for when I’m anxious but doctor was like no ;.; good thing I am relearning my therapy skills.

I am extremely high functioning as an aspie, but the requirements to work thirty hour week jobs or 9-5 will just never be there for me. In terms of social burn out, even once I’ve leRned all I can about people and friendships, my brain will not be able to process it. If I live alone it’s easier but I love my partner So. I need so much alone time and he knows that, sometimes I feel bad but it’s just who I am. And I have tried to work normal hours before but I just can’t. Inwant to be able to work from home one day, whether it’s art (gosh I wish) or research... people mistake me for having depression or social anxiety but while I have a few symptoms of both at times (anxiety is super severe tbh) it originates from things like social burn out and claustrophobia. I am managing though and doing therapy SOON yay. I just had to write all this cause I’m trying so hard in real life not to explain my Behavior, something I done my whole life; now that I have been screened and I’m being officially diagnosed with spectrum disorders it’s just so tempting to rigt my wrongs with people by saying hey! This is why I did stuff that was confusing!

Aspergers doesn’t define me though nor is it my identity; I’m still ME the me I’ve always been; it’s great to get help for it but I really have to pay attention to my strengths and meet goals. Cuz it’s so exciting to have these revelations !! Hence text post!! But when I say it in person I speak too fast or too slow or I mumble and people think I’m MANIC (yes I appear manic but honestly just excited orndopamine releaze) by the way don’t ever tell someone they come across as manic unless you know the legit symptoms and you can differentiate between someone who’s excited about a special interest or realisation, or whatever, and actual manic episodes (they tend to last over a week and are accompanied by many symptoms including no sleep or food aswell as sometimes a lot of things beyond physical capabilities; sitting on the toilet writing an essay while relaxed and in the middle of assignments ain’t mania Jsyk) lots of my aspie friends get super happy about stuff or connection and we seem manic but we ARENT so just listen to the exact words we use and respond accordingly. Like... that’s just me tho. Sometimes I’m upset and it’s different, that’s just regarding conversation about shit I’m excited about~~~

SO YEP 👍 THATS MY RANT THank you Edit: I am manic bipolar