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[wethotcrazy]

THE GOLDEN LOTUS

pairing: Ollie Bearman x Reader

word count: 864

university au!! i just wanted something cute and sweet and i think i really cooked with this one. also thinking of maybe making this into a series or having other uni au's for other drivers, what do you guys think???

Ollie Bearman wasn’t one for change. Predictability was his sanctuary, a warm cocoon that he didn’t much like leaving. His life ran on routine: lectures, workouts, and pasta dinners in his dorm room. But predictability took a nosedive the day he stumbled into the Golden Lotus.

It was a small Chinese restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a charity shop, a little worn but radiating charm. Ollie’s first visit was born of desperation—he’d forgotten to do a food shop, and the Golden Lotus was cheap, convenient, and smelled amazing. He didn’t even like Chinese food that much, but the portion sizes? Enormous. Enough to feed a starving uni student for two days, if he rationed it right.

The food, however, quickly became secondary.

The real reason Ollie found himself at the Golden Lotus every Tuesday and Thursday night was the girl behind the counter. YN.

She was a computer science major with a sharp wit and a smile that felt like a reward when Ollie managed to coax it out of her. YN worked the evening shift, her laptop often open beside the register as she chipped away at coursework between filling takeout orders. She lived in the apartment above the restaurant, earning a rent discount by working their… or so he overheard.

At first, Ollie had been too shy to do much more than order his food, offer a polite smile, and retreat to his usual table. But YN had noticed him—how could she not? He was the only customer who regularly dined in. That was rare enough, but when someone started showing up twice a week like clockwork, well… she couldn’t help but be a little curious.

It had started innocently.

“You’re becoming a regular,” she’d said one night, sliding his order across the counter. Her tone was teasing but kind, and Ollie had stammered some excuse about the convenience. She’d laughed softly, and the sound stuck with him longer than it should have.

From that moment, their interactions had begun to stretch beyond the standard “Cash or card?” conversations. On slow nights, Ollie would linger, striking up tentative chats about coursework or whatever music was playing on the overhead speakers. He learned that YN hated group projects but loved building things—apps, websites, anything she could tinker with. She learned that Ollie was studying business but had a secret dream of running his own karting center someday, a nod to his childhood passion for motorsports.

It wasn’t long before they’d fallen into a quiet rhythm.

When YN wasn’t busy, she’d sit at a table with her laptop open, her brow furrowed as she debugged code or prepared for lectures. One evening, Ollie surprised her by setting his business textbook across from her.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked.

She blinked at him, caught off guard, then shrugged. “Sure, but I’m not sharing my Wi-Fi password.”

He grinned, and just like that, Ollie became a fixture of her workspace.

Mr. Zhou, however, was less enthused at first.

“That boy again?” he’d muttered one evening, poking his head out of the kitchen to see Ollie hunched over his notes. “Does he not have a home?”

“He’s harmless,” YN had assured him.

“Harmless or homeless?”

But Ollie grew on Mr. Zhou over time. The older man had caught him fixing a wobbly table one night, unprompted, and begrudgingly admitted the “straggler” wasn’t so bad.

By November, Ollie had started hanging around until closing. Not to pester YN—though he did enjoy the extra time with her—but because the restaurant had become a comfort to him, a little pocket of warmth in his otherwise hectic uni life. Sometimes, after locking up, YN would invite him upstairs to her flat. It was tiny, crammed with textbooks and a perpetually half-finished Lego sets, but Ollie loved it.

Their hangouts weren’t dates. Not officially, anyway. But Ollie couldn’t deny how much he looked forward to them. Whether they were watching a movie or playing video games, he felt at ease in her company.

The turning point came in mid-December, on a freezing morning when Ollie was walking to class with his flatmate, Kimi.

“So,” Kimi began, glancing at him with a sly smile, “how’s your girlfriend?”

“What?” Ollie nearly tripped over his own feet.

“You know, YN,” Kimi said, casually sipping his coffee. “You’re at that restaurant all the time. I just thought… you know?”

“She’s not my—” Ollie started, but the words died in his throat.

Because, truthfully, he didn’t hate the idea. In fact, the thought of YN as his girlfriend made his stomach flip in a way he hadn’t felt before.

That evening, as he sat at his usual table in the Golden Lotus, Ollie caught himself staring at YN while she worked. She was wiping down the counter, humming softly to herself, her hair falling loose from its tie. She glanced up and caught him looking.

“What?” she asked, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“Nothing,” Ollie said quickly, feeling his cheeks heat.

But in that moment, he realized he didn’t want to keep playing it safe. Maybe it was time to take a chance.

Just as soon as he worked up the courage.

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas Day 5: Open Doors

Character: Eli Michaelson (Nobel Son) Relationships: Eli x reader Warnings: smut, student/teacher hookup

Read on Ao3 or below:

You closed your laptop with a sigh. You’d tried pretty much every spot on campus you could think of, but everywhere was crowded and noisy, and you just couldn’t focus. You left the study hall with your laptop under your arms, trying to think of where you could go to get your coursework done. You needed somewhere quiet, somewhere no one would disturb you - preferably somewhere with a lock.

As you wandered through the halls of the college, you passed through the science block, and an idea struck you. It was a long shot, but you thought you might as well give it a go.

You found your Chemistry professor’s office door and knocked. After a few moments, the door swung open to reveal a frowning Dr Michaelson.

“Office hours are over,” he said shortly. He hesitated, though, looking you up and down thoughtfully. “…I might make an exception, though. What do you want?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Dr Michaelson, and I know this is gonna be a real cheeky ask…”

Dr Michaelson raised an eyebrow curiously and leant against the doorframe, his arms folded.

“I’m tryna do my math homework but everywhere on campus is so busy, I can’t focus. Is there any chance I could just sit in the lab to do my homework?”

“And risk knocking something over?” Dr Michaelson scoffed. “No chance. But… you could work in here.”

That took you aback.

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Sure. Just keep the noise down, would ya? I got my own work to do.”

Dr Michaelson stepped back and opened the door, gesturing for you to come in.

“Wow, thanks, Dr Michaelson, I really appreciate it. I owe you one.”

You said this as you walked into the office, so you didn’t see the hungry smirk that teased at the corner of your professor’s lips when he heard that.

“Not a problem at all, [Y/n]. Anything my students need. Here - lemme make you some space.”

He gathered up some of the papers strewn over his desk to make some space, then pulled a chair around for you. You thanked him again as you sat at his desk next to him.

“Now, don’t go telling everyone they can do this,” Dr Michaelson said firmly. “This is a one time thing, you hear? You caught me in a good mood.”

You mimed zipping your lips closed. Dr Michaelson smiled, then turned back to his own work.

You opened your laptop and loaded up your math homework again. Finally, you were able to concentrate. You liked having company when you studied, but not the obnoxiously loud company that Stanford seemed to be full of today. It was nice having Dr Michaelson for company, because he didn’t disturb you, and you were able to really focus on your homework.

Although he was mostly quiet, you did hear Dr Michaelson grumble under his breath sometimes. After the third “fuck’s sake” from him, you had to glance over.

“Something wrong?” you asked with amusement.

“I hate computers,” Dr Michaelson replied with a grumble as he hit the backspace button aggressively. “It keeps telling me I’m spelling Musettamycin wrong.”

You peered over at the screen, where his word processor had put a red squiggle under ‘Musetamycin’.

“It has two Ts,” you said.

Dr Michaelson frowned at you. “I think I know how to spell Musettamycin, [Y/n]. I am a Nobel Laureate.”

“Yeah, in Chemistry, not English.”

He narrowed his eyes, then stood up and grabbed a book from his shelf. He flicked through the pages, apparently found what he was looking for, and quickly put the book back on the shelf.

“Well done. You passed my test.”

He sat back down and added an extra T, and the red line promptly disappeared. You giggled.

“Do I get extra credit?”

Dr Michaelson looked at you thoughtfully.

“You get one chance for my help with your math homework.”

“Who says I need help?”

Your professor scoffed.

“You’re smart, [Y/n], but you ain’t that smart. You’ll need it,” he said confidently.

He turned back to his work, and you to yours - and, sure enough, eventually you came across a problem you just couldn’t solve.

“Alright, I admit it, I need help.”

Dr Michaelson leaned back in his chair with a triumphant grin.

“Well, well, well…”

“Stop!” you laughed. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Dr Michaelson sighed dramatically. “Well, there are drawbacks to being a Nobel Laureate, I suppose. Everyone thinks you know everything - which I do. Come on, then, let’s have a look.”

He scooted his chair closer to yours to look at your screen.

“Oh, that’s easy. You gotta find a substitution to simplify it. Look at the denominator - what kind of substitution d’you think you need?”

“Uhm…”

Your mind went blank for a moment when you felt Dr Michaelson’s breath on your cheek. You realised suddenly that he’d scooted very close to you. He had one arm on the back of your chair, while with his other hand he pointed at one of the integers on your screen.

“Oh, er… trigonomic, right?”

“Good girl,” said Dr Michaelson, and you felt a strange shiver run across you, like he’d said some secret code to make you blush. He glanced at you, clearly noticing your reaction, and smirked.

“So… choose a substitution.”

He spoke softly, as if he were talking about something very different.

You cleared your throat and went to write out a substitution, trying not to get distracted by how very close to you he was. Dr Michaelson pulled his hand away from your screen… and rested it on your knee.

You could feel his gaze burning into you as you wrote out your workings, and when you paused, he glanced back at your screen.

“Good. Now, rewrite it in terms of theta.”

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to do that when his hand was still on your knee… or when it began moving up your leg, his fingers grazing your inner thigh. Was your Chemistry professor seriously coming onto you right now?

“Good girl… so smart,” Dr Michaelson muttered in your ear. “I don’t think you need my help at all… you just wanted some attention, huh?”

You could feel your heart racing. Your cheeks were burning red, but it just seemed to spur him on.

“Is it really all that busy on campus, [Y/n]? Was I really your only option for some peace and quiet? I don’t think so…”

“I, um… I remembered you said the lab stays locked…”

Dr Michaelson chuckled, his deep voice reverberating in your ear.

“Mmm, and you wanted to get me behind a locked door, is that it?”

“N - no, I…”

You gasped as Dr Michaelson reached the top of your thigh, but instead of stopping, he just kept going, his large hand suddenly cupping your crotch firmly through your pants.

“It’s bad form to lie to your professors, [Y/n],” he whispered. “I could report you for academic misconduct, you know.”

He stroked you with his fingers, and even through the fabric of your clothing, it sent a tingling feeling right to your core.

“Dr Michaelson…”

“Call me Eli.”

“Eli… how do you know I won’t - ah!” - another squeeze from him - “won’t… report you for this?”

He smirked.

“Are you telling me you don’t want it, [Y/n]? Say you don’t want it and I’ll stop.”

He continued caressing your crotch, his fingers dancing dangerously close to your zipper.

“It’s… it’s bad form to lie to my professors,” you said, stealing a glance at him. His pupils were wide with lust, his confident smirk on his lips just begging to be kissed.

Eli chuckled.

“Smart girl.”

He unzipped your pants and slipped his hand inside, causing you to let out a high-pitched whine.

“Wet already?” he teased, his fingers exploring your folds as you tried to keep your lips closed tight, lest you cry out a little too loud and be heard in the corridor. “My, you are an eager little thing, aren’t you?”

He pushed two fingers between your inner folds, digging deeper into the wetness that was pooling between your legs. You bit your lip, your eyelids fluttering, and let out another whine when Eli’s fingertip found your sweet spot.

“You need to simplify the expression,” he murmured in your ear as his finger circled your clit.

Your eyes fluttered open, confused.

“I - huh?”

Eli nodded towards your computer screen. “Simplify it, then integrate with respect to theta. Then your integral will be straightforward.”

What the fuck was wrong with him?

What the fuck was wrong with you, for that matter?

He stopped his movements very suddenly, and you whined in frustration.

“Go on. Show me how clever you are.”

You tried to clear your mind and focus on the expression on your computer screen, but you were far more interested in the finger that was now circling your clit again, spreading your wetness around as you tried to remember what numbers were.

“Good girl,” Eli said again. He’d clearly figured out how weak you were to those words, and he was using them to his full advantage. “What do we do next?”

Finger me, you thought.

“Substitute back to x,” you said.

“Go on, then. You can finish it from here.”

As your fingers moved across the keyboard, his fingers moved down through your folds, and pushed at the entrance to your pussy.

“One more step. Go on.”

You cried out as his fingers slipped inside you, but you kept going, willing your mind to try and think about stupid numbers at a time like this.

“Root over four minus x squared,” you said aloud, trying to ignore the way Eli’s fingers were crawling deeper inside you, reaching out to find your G-spot.

“And then - ah! - plus C.”

You sighed with relief as you finished your answer.

Eli smirked.

“See? You didn’t need my help with math. But I do think you needed my help with this, didn’t you?”

The hand that was on the back of your chair reached around to slide under your arm and grab your breast through your t-shirt as he began pumping his fingers harder inside you. You moaned.

“You like that, huh? You like getting fingered by your professor?”

“Y - yes,” you admitted. “It feels so good…”

“You think this is good? Just wait ‘til you feel my cock… you’ll be coming back every day on the pretence of needing help with homework, but really you just need my cock.”

You let out a moan of his name, which seemed to spur him on, as he began fingering you more aggressively, his other hand pawing at your breast, as if he were resisting tearing your clothes off to get straight to your flesh.

You grabbed onto the arm of your chair to steady yourself, and with your other hand, you reached over to Eli’s lap to cup his hard length beneath his trousers, and you couldn’t hide your reaction when you felt how big he was.

“You want it, huh? You want my cock, [Y/n]? Go on, tell me you want it… all you have to do is ask…”

“P - please, Dr Michaelson,” you panted. “I need your cock. Please - please, fuck me on your desk…”

Eli groaned, overwhelmed with arousal at your words. He withdrew his hands from you, then grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto his lap. Your lips connected with his instantly, his arms wrapped around your torso, and you could feel his rock hard erection straining through his trousers, rubbing against your own far too clothed crotch.

He was a sloppy kisser, seemingly trying to get as much of his saliva in and around your mouth as possible. You reached down to unbuckle his belt, and he groaned with relief when some of the pressure on his cock was relieved.

“Fucking hungry little minx,” Eli growled as you fumbled with his belt. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you? Fingering yourself to the thought of me… mhm, I know you have. Go on, get those damn pants off.”

He pushed you off his lap, and you obediently pushed your pants and underwear down past your knees, kicking them off along with your shoes while Eli finished opening his fly and pulled his cock out from underneath his boxers.

He hummed with satisfaction as he looked at you, pulling languidly on his cock as he took in the view of you, naked from the waist down, your pussy soaked and ready for him.

Oh, he had definitely found his new plaything.

Well, he’d better test her out.

He got to his feet and kissed you again, his cock brushing against your skin, his lips parting from yours only to pull your t-shirt over your head. He grinned when he saw the lacy bra you were wearing.

“Someone had a plan when she got dressed this morning,” he said smugly. “Did you decide to seduce your professor this morning or were you already planning it last night?”

“I like to wear this sometimes,” you admitted. “It makes me feel confident.”

“Mmm, and damn right too… God, those tits are so fuckable. Maybe another day, hm? I promised you my cock and you’re gonna get my cock. It’s what you deserve for being such a smart girl. Now - on the desk.”

You obediently hopped up onto the desk, perched on the edge, but Eli placed a firm hand on your shoulder and pushed you onto your back. You could feel papers sliding around beneath your back, and you had to push aside a stapler that was digging into your shoulder, but something about getting fucked by Dr Eli Michaelson on his work was incredibly hot.

“Look at you, fucking hell,” Eli growled as he rolled a condom he’d pulled from a drawer down his shaft. “You’re gonna get your slutty pussy juice all over my papers. Ah, well.”

He entered you with one fluid motion, causing you to cry out in surprise as his cock pierced your cunt, sliding easily up your walls, stretching them out with a delicious burn that sent your pleasure receptors wild.

Eli kept a firm grip on your thighs as he thrusted into you, groaning with abandon and no apparent care for who might be walking by.

“God, I fucking needed this,” he moaned. After his wife had left him and his last plaything graduated, he’d been going through a frustrating dry spell. And now here you were, presenting yourself at his office with your low-cut top and your tight little ass. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Oh, fuck - fuck, Dr Michaelson, that feels so good…”

He smirked proudly at your moans. He knew just how good he was at fucking, but he still loved to hear it.

“Your cunt’s full of my cock, [Y/n]… I think we’re on first name terms now.”

You laughed, which quickly turned into a groan of surprise when Eli pushed your thighs back further, spreading your pussy out for him as his hips pummelled into your flesh.

“How long have you wanted this, [Y/n]?” Eli asked. “Did you walk out of my first lecture with soaking wet panties? Or did it take you a few lectures to realise how badly you wanted my cock?”

“I - I always thought you were handsome,” you admitted. “Ever since I - ah! - saw your picture in the paper when you got your Nobel Prize. I saw you worked at Stanford and - oh! - applied for my postgrad here.”

Eli grinned, his ego swelling as much as his cock.

“You applied here just so you could fuck me?”

“No!” you insisted. “I was gonna go to UCLA, but I thought - mhm - if I came here instead, I could study under a - ah! - a Nobel Laureate - fuck!”

Eli picked up his pace, fucking into your cunt furiously, the stroking of his ego sending a fresh wave of lust over him.

“Mmm, now look at you - you’re certainly under me now, huh?”

The desk was shaking violently, papers flying everywhere, and you heard the crash of a pen pot falling to the floor. Neither of you paid much mind to it.

“I might just have to schedule some one to one tutoring with you, [Y/n]… since you went to such lengths to be under me. Would you like that?”

“Y - yes,” you panted, your voice straining as you felt pleasure coiling inside you. “I think that would be - ugh - beneficial… fuck, Eli, I’m gonna cum…”

“Mmm, yes, cum all over my cock,” Eli growled. “God, look at you… fucking magnificent… and all mine…”

He released one of your legs from his grip to press his thumb against your clit, and as soon as he began rubbing circles around the swollen bundle of nerves, you knew you were done for.

“Yes… yes… Eli…”

“Fuck, [Y/n], I’m so close… I’m gonna cum so fucking hard…”

His moans increased, his thumb rubbing your clit and his cock furiously fucking into your cunt, and combined with the look of unadulterated pleasure on his face, you felt yourself tipping over the edge, and you cried out his name as you came, your legs twitching and your cunt gushing around his cock as your orgasm overwhelmed you.

Feeling you cum around his cock was the last straw for Eli, and he moaned loudly as he came too, filling the condom with his seed as he continued fucking you through his orgasm, hips stuttering erratically as he came inside a cunt for the first time in far too long, and such a warm, tight one too.

Eli stayed buried inside you for a few moments as his movements stilled and you both caught your breath. Then, he pulled out of you with a loud squelching sound, and passed you a box of tissues to clean yourself up.

“Fuck, that was so good,” he panted as he pulled the spent condom from his cock and deposited it in the bin.

You mumbled what sounded like “uh-huh” in agreement, your mind still addled from the pleasure as you tried to mop up as much as you could from between your legs.

When finally you’d managed to locate your clothes and get them back on, Eli was sitting back in his chair, watching you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Well, I’d certainly give you an A for that,” he said proudly.

You laughed.

“What, am I majoring in sex now?”

“If you did, you’d be top of the class.”

He passed you your laptop, which thankfully hadn’t been damaged by your escapades.

“So… reckon you need some one-to-one tutoring?”

You blushed under his intense gaze, his eyes still staring at you hungrily.

“If you think I need it, Professor,” you said coyly.

Eli grinned and reached around to give your ass a squeeze.

“My door’s always open for you, [Y/n].”

[mortalfaerie]

hi here's my take on the gravity falls kids grown up since they're 25 now

Mason "Dipper" Pines

after wierdmaggedan and disposing of the journals, he still has a keen interest in mysteries, just not necessarily of a supernatural nature. he's aware of the supernatural that's all around them, but content to let it rest.

he gets really into history and archeology, and bonds more with ford about this - even though ford is a physicist, he appreciates dipper's enthusiasm

he's trans (i'll die on this hill) and continues to socially transition in high school, and starts testosterone around 16.

he also starts going more by his chosen name (mason, choosing one that starts similarly to mabel) but still lets close friends and family call him dipper. he stops covering his birthmark, though he still likes hats

he's suspicious of mabel's new friendship with pacifica in high school, but he warms up to pacifica ("paz," as they end up calling her) over time. he realizes they have a lot in common and she's actually a lot of help on his mystery hunting

paz's blooming interest in political science lends itself very much to his interest in history, and they spend lots of hours as teen up late on the phone together (seemingly everyone but them can see the writing on the wall, but it takes a few more years for them to realize their feelings)

he continues to be a massive nerd, and has at least one dd&md podcast he religiously listens to. he and mabel go to conventions in california together.

his favorite place remains gravity falls over the years, and he goes back at least once each summer.

he and pacifica both commit to UCLA and become closer there. he majors in archeology & anthropology. despite their very different social circles, they seek each other out. she has at least one twat boyfriend in freshman year that dipper confronts on her behalf (even though she didn't want him to)

he and paz almost kiss at his going away party for a semester abroad in greece, but he panics and runs off, leaving her confused and hurt. it takes a while for them to regain their footing, but they end up hooking up the night he comes back from greece. due to a comedy of errors they don't end up *going all the way* that night, and it's not until they're at the pool a week later that she realizes he's trans when she sees his top surgery scars (thanks rockslide @ ao3)

he was 99% sure she knew so it's a surprise moment for him, and he worries she won't be interested now, but she's pretty non-plussed. they start dating that summer.

her parents disapprove and she ends up putting her foot down and cutting them off for how they treat him, and his family ends up practically adopting her. they are each other's biggest supporters in everything.

he gets offered a spot in a phd program in london, which stresses him out until he finds out that paz applied for a posting at the us embassy in london and got it, so they move to england together

he studies pre-modern civilizations and religious rites (a la stonehenge, etc) and has just finished his coursework and moved from phd student to candidate. he's just started to write his dissertation on potentially matriarchal societies in pre-modern britain using burial site data from major burial sites of religious significance.

he and paz have a cat name tyrone, or ty. they've been together for almost four years now, and he's thinking about popping the question - they're young (25), but he's pretty certain that for him, it's always going to be paz.

[foxbirdy]

hi!

just saw your pictures of you doing some marine biology fieldwork and i just wondered if you have any stories about the experience that you would like to share. Im in 1st year uni right now and i have no idea what im gonna specialize in other than “science!!” but i work on boats for my job right now (tallships, very cool stuff) and so marine environment work really appeals to me. If you have the time, I would love to get a picture of what the work you’re doing entails.

(What does the day-to day of marine biology research look like? What kind of stuff are you studying/information are you gathering? Whats it like? Is it awesome? feel free to answer none of these also)

thank you!!

OH, I'm jealous - it's a dream of my mine to get to work on a tallship. & I love to talk about this stuff!

In all honesty, the day-to-day changes pretty dramatically depending on what project work is available. Right now, as a student, a lot of what I'm involved in ties into coursework or research that's happening at the university! I volunteer with a couple different labs, and there's a huge variety of stuff to get in on. For example:

Last Saturday, I spent about six hours pulling otoliths and gonads out of eighty invasive roi, taape, and toau caught by local spearfishermen. Otoliths are the ear bones of fish, and similar to the rings of a tree, they have ringed annuli that can give a lot of information about the life history of the individual species. We cast these otoliths in resin, and then cut cross-sections to look at them under the microscope. The hope is that this information will help us understand when these species become reproductive, and how to control their populations.

The last several Fridays, I've been involved with an effort to collect some water quality and plankton data after a lot of heavy rain. This work was out on the boats, and we used deep and shallow drogues, YSI, light meter, secchi disk, and a couple plankton nets, moving out from the swollen rivermouth and into deeper, saltier water.

Last month, I spent a lot of time on invertebrate snorkel surveys, mostly looking for presence/absence in the nearshore. Next Tuesday, I'll be doing fish surveys in the same location. The Wednesday after I'm hopping on a wetlands restoration project & removing invasive bull grass, and a night snorkel afterwards. Next Friday is a lab day, working to process the plankton samples we've collected, and I'll be in the coral nursery afterwards. That's the really fun thing about university - there's so much different work going on, all the time!

In the summers, outside of school, that work is just as varied. I've really enjoyed having jobs that allow me to do a little bit of everything, and thus far, my supervisors have been very supportive of me in that. Here's some other projects I've gotten to work on, all within just one position:

Servicing passive monitoring systems! These are pictures of my replacing a SEABIRD logger, which has been taking a water temperature measurement every thirty seconds for the past 360 days. This helps conservation managers track heatwaves in sensitive ecosystems. We prepped new loggers with batteries and SD cards and waterproof tape to prevent biofouling, and then used snips and zipties to make the switch.

Scientific fishing! This helps get life history and population data for our target species, large pelagic fish. We collected biopsy samples, placed tags, and released primarily ahi, but also ono, and mahi. (Full disclaimer: this picture is from a subsistence fishing trip and not a scientific one, where people generally have too many things in their hands & are moving too quickly to take pictures. He was a very delicious dinner for our crew, though.)

Other marine tagging! I got to assist with bluewater cetacean tagging of several different dolphin and small whale species, and shark tagging for galapagos, blacktip reef, grey reef, and dusky sharks. Cetacean tagging was done with an air rifle, not easy at high speeds on the boat. Shark tagging was more hands-on, as we had to manually apply the tags.

Coral reef monitoring! The mission of these surveys was to track coral health through heat stress events, and to identify harmful species. I'm looking under the coral head in these pictures for crown-of-thorns starfish, one of the most urgent species threats to reefs in the Pacific.

This is the bastard. Notice the dead coral around him.

Oh I'm about to smack into the photo limit, huh. Please hold!

[anthonys237thfreckle]

Do you have any Javi headcanons? (Just about him as a character)

Javier ‘Javi’ Rivera - Headcanons

TW: mentions of death and mild bullying

🌪- Javi def grew up being called ‘Javier’ a lot in elementary school. He only transitioned to the nickname ‘Javi’ in late middle school/ high school.

🌪- Speaking of growing up, his freckles were made fun of, so he grew up being insecure about them. He doesn’t give a shit now, though, since the ladies liked it in college

🌪- He was always a fun kid to be around - very smiley when he was a young boy. In his teen years, he started discovering himself more, and in high school hooked up with both guys and girls.

🌪- He probably had his bi awakening through watching a movie and finding a male character hot, then being jealous of the female love interest.

🌪- Of course he was a little anxious about coming out, but he didn’t really care as much what people thought of him. If they asked, he’d tell them but he wouldn’t go around announcing to the school he’s bi or whatever.

🌪- He never really found an interest in subjects like art or music in school. He was really good in science, obviously. In elementary, his favourite topic was the water cycle.

🌪- In college, he was surprisingly good at what he did. He put a lot of effort into coursework AND balanced his hookups.

🌪- He found his group of friends: Jeb, Kate, Addy and Praveen - and he fit right in. The perfect balance of nerdy, ambitious and troublemaking.

🌪- His best assets in college were his holy trinity - hair, freckles and body. He did work out a lot in high school and maintained his figure in college, so that made him attractive. Those god-damned freckles made him eye catching and unforgettable, and his hair - a brown mop of curls, shoulder length and he rarely ever had a bad hair day (and as someone with curls myself, i need his routine.)

🌪- Javi’s lively personality was mostly squandered by two major events in his life. The EF5 accompanied by the loss of his friends and joining the military.

🌪- He still holds onto the grief of not being able to guide them through the storm, of being picked by the universe to live when three of his best friends died.

🌪- Part of him died too that day.

🌪- The military gave him a tough skin. Lots of physical training and whatnot - he still got to pursue and use his knowledge in meteorology, but more professional and safe this time.

🌪- To him it doesn’t feel the same.

🌪- Once he was done with the military, he started dating Scott mostly because he just wanted to feel something, and Scott made him feel things. However, the two of them didn’t mix and split up.

🌪- He’s a logical thinker, but under the influence of emotions, he’ll say whatever’s on his mind, no matter how hurtful it can be.

🌪- That’s why he’s a little afraid to get too riled up or to let his emotions free because he’s afraid of losing someone from saying something shitty.

🌪- However, after Kate talked some sense into him, he found a new purpose in life - to help people in danger. To save lives and communities, and he’s determined not to let anyone suffer the same fate as his friends on his watch.

[markrosewater]

Hi Mark,

My name is Isaac Holguin. I sent a detailed email regarding your work on the color pie over the years to making.magic@hotmail.com. I hope that is the correct avenue to reach out to you. I had the pleasure of being answered on this blog as well, so I thought I'd double check by contacting you here. In case the email listed isn't in service anymore, I've copied my message below. I hope this reaches you and that you're doing well. If you're able, I'd love to hear back at interactnm@gmail.com. Thanks for all you do!

----------

Hello Mr. Rosewater,

My name is Isaac Holguin and I'm a nurse studying leadership and education in Tucson, Arizona. Before I get into the topic of my email, I'd just like to say thank you for being a spokesperson for Magic the Gathering all these years! I've played the game since I was thirteen years old, all through college, and well into my career. Magic the Gathering has helped me make new friends and deepen bonds with people I already had in my life. Though I've stopped participating in recent years, the game will always hold a special place in my heart and I've still got an Alpha Serra Angel that is as old as I am!

One of the best memories I have from my time with Magic was diving into the color wheel breakdown series from your "Drive to Work" podcast. During my pursuit of a Bachelors in Nursing Science, I often cited the color wheel as a tool to determine personality traits and compared it to other topics in my studies. Now that I'm pursuing my Master's degree in Nursing Education, I'm interested to see if there were any references or inspirations for the development of the color pie. With the recent popularity of the Myers-Briggs assessment (16 Personalities), Ten Faces of Innovation, and other similar tools I'd like to try and adapt the color pie as a leadership/personality assessment. I understand there will be multiple steps involved to publish such a study with respect to Hasbro and Magic the Gathering as a company, but I would like to attempt to lay the foundation of this project during my studies.

The goal of this project would be to introduce an existing, incredible, fun, and easy to use tool to a vast new audience. Helping others acknowledge that all aspects of the personalities presented exist within them to some degree and can evolve over time has become a core belief for me both personally and professionally. Examples of "your greatest weakness is your greatest strength pushed too far" and the idea that the capacity for good and evil exists in any aspect of a personality are incredible insights that I haven't seen cited enough throughout my studies. My wildest hope is that this tool would be utilized in coursework for multiple professions, similar to the curriculum I'm studying now, to help future leaders reflect on their strengths and develop effective leadership styles.

In short, I hope that you're doing well and would love to hear your insights, recommendations, and references for the work you've so passionately brought to thousands of others of the years. Even if you're unable to share certain aspects of your work, I'd like you to know that your endeavors have not only brought relief and happiness to healthcare workers like me, but that you've inspired so many others to apply the lessons of fictional works to improve our reality. The lessons gained from my long history with this franchise have helped me connect to others in their most vulnerable moments, and improve their quality of life. Thank you for all that you've done, and I wish you continued success in a field you've already become an exemplary expert in.

Sincerely,

Isaac Holguin

BSN, RN

I’m always excited to hear about ways people can use the color pie outside the context of the game. I’m not sure what I can do to help you.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Intercultural Bias in the Fan Experience of QL

I've been thinking about writing this post for a while, and I think it's an appropriate time for it after reading @hallowpen's post today - which if you haven't read yet, please do so.

I'm saying this as someone who's been on a lifelong journey of learning, and is also extremely aware I still have so much that I don't know. I am from the U.S. and that comes with a truckload of bias and privilege. But this is something I have learned that I think is worth sharing.

There is a danger, for those of us who are progressive, yet grew up in countries that have been historically exploitative and oppressive to other cultures.

Because colonizer bias is insidious. And it can be very tempting to say, I'm aware, I've done the anti-racism training, I've read the books, I have my own oppressions I have to fight every day, I'm aware of my privilege, I'm an ally, etc, etc, etc. But this is just like racism - if you are not being actively anti-colonialist in your interactions with other cultures, you are likely perpetuating bias and oppression.

I grew up in a very liberal part of the U.S. and had a very progressive education starting from grade school. I got education on systemic racism in junior high, my high school had one of the first gay/straight alliances in our state. I studied science in college, but since it was a liberal arts degree, I also took classes on sociology of race, the religions of Asia, Chinese history, etc.

But despite all this I still grew up in a country with a fuckton of bias about our role in how we interact with countries around the world. And as we all do with bias that we grow up with, I internalized some of that.

It wasn't until I took some graduate coursework on Intercultural Training & Communication that I really was able to recontextualize my perspective and become aware of my unconscious bias, thank to an amazing instructor.

Other countries do not need us to come in, tell them what is wrong, and tell them how to fix it. Whatever problems there are, there are people in that culture who know, who are actively working on it, and they know better than anyone outside what needs to be done.

Honestly, it doesn't even need to extend to other countries - just look at all the nonprofits and charities in the U.S. that talk about helping the poor, but in the end just perpetuate the cycle of oppression by coming in to neighborhoods and doing zero work to center the perspectives of the people most affected.

You can absolutely support and spread awareness and send money and share expertise when asked, and do the things that the people of that culture ask you to do.

But if you come in, and try to say "this is what you all are doing wrong, and this is what you should be doing" - you are perpetuating a colonialist mindset.

And yes, this extends to media as well.

This is why I struggle with some of the takes I have read, especially those that attempt to rank the "queerness authenticity" of shows, from an entirely Western perspective, with no engagement with the idea that one's queer identity is impacted by one's culture (among other things), and that it can look and be expressed in a million different ways.

There are criticisms of queer directors, blaming them for a myriad of perceived sins, with zero understanding of what queerness might mean to them both individually and as a Thai person, and what they might also be trying to navigate socially, culturally, and politically.

There are people making broad sweeping statements about the direction that they think QL is headed in - some of which enter the realm of catastrophizing - entirely based on their own subjective opinion of what is most important for a different country and culture to care most about in a particular moment in time.

You know why I'm not worried about the direction of QL? Because I know there are millions of Thai people who care about it too. I know the Thai queer community and their allies are speaking up, and pushing for change and progress. I know that they are extremely cognizant of when representation fails, and I know they are the reason representation has already improved so much (sorry interfans, it's not about us).

And yeah, sometimes the pendulum swings the other way - those of us in the U.S. should be very aware of this. But the fight doesn't stop.

There are Thai people who are working to promote mental health and therapy, to encourage people to have strong boundaries with family who have hurt them, to provide more representation for groups who still aren't seen. And someone from a different country complaining about all the ways they think their culture is failing isn't helping a thing.

Like @hallowpen says, this is not about saying you can't critique. Most of the people I follow do a great job at making it consistently clear that their perspective is subjective, and they relate it to their own life and experience. That's great, and a place for people from different cultures to connect!

But those of us who are interfans have a responsibility as members of a global community. There are people from Thailand who read your posts. From Japan, from Korea, from China. Are you speaking up to support them? Or are you talking over them? Are you expressing understanding for what they are navigating from historical context and current political conditions? Or are you just lecturing them on how you think their world should be?

[dullgecko]

I enjoy the idea that for fun, Gorgug completes a number of doctorate and research degrees after graduating, maybe while teaching, playing music and adventuring as side jobs. Ones like engineering or computer sciences, at first because he didn’t know what else to do, and then because he found them really fun.

Until he tries to take a magical one (that focuses on combining magic and tech) and finds that, instead of a Dr. title, the program actually awards the official title of ‘wizard.’ He actually finds out because Ayda, who also has that degree, applauds him for finally becoming ‘the greatest wizard of his time.’

Gorgug collecting degrees like pokemon cards really tickles me. He's just doing 4 years of coursework at once constantly because whatever, he's done it before it's fine. He does it mostly long-distance but getting his friends to teleport him to the uni for exams and stuff he has to do in person is easy enough. He still gets Riz to help him study because the little guy really enjoys collecting random knowledge that would help him with his investigations even if he doesnt want the degree.

Also Dr.Dr.Dr.Wiz Thistlespring hahaha.

[celebtf]

The Meet & Greet experience: Nick Jonas

Tyler sat on a worn-out bench under the large oak tree in the quad, his sanctuary between classes. A sophomore at Hartfield University, majoring in Computer Science, he found solace in his phone amidst coursework stress.

After a busy afternoon, Tyler returned to his dorm, dropping his backpack by the door before sinking into his couch. The dimly lit room held the remnants of a long day, with textbooks piled high on the desk and posters of his favorite band, the Jonas Brothers, adorning the walls.

Tyler was scrolling around on his phone when he saw that Jonas brothers had a Giveaway " Donate $1 and get the chance to win a meeting " Tyler was over the moon, Ofcourse he knew he wouldn't stand a chance to the rich fans that could donate multipule times, yet he really wanted to try to see if maybe he had a chance. Tyler took out his card, donate three times got his number and then hoped for it all.

The last day of the competiton came around and Tyler kept refreshing his mail and the Jonas Brothers Instagram to see if there was any news, any notifications, dm anything really. Tyler had basically gave up, no Mail, dm or notification had come in.

* Pling *

" Jonas Brothers has set you a E-mail " Tyler slowly opened up the mail he had gotten seconds before, shaking he started to read the E-mail " Hi welcome to the Jonas Brothers Five albums Live show as a VIP Meet & Greet guest " Tyler couldn't believe his eyes, he had really won something for once.

The day of the concert had come around, Tyler was dressed in his " I Love Nick " shirt and had his Backstage Meet & Greet badge, he was walking to Entré G, showed his Badge to the security guy and they asked him to go and wait right over there.

A tall blond and walked in " You must be Tyler, right? " Tyler nodded nervously and took the man's hand. " Just follow me ". The two men started walked backstage and Tyler couldn't help but to look around and see all the posters on the walls. They stopped right before a black door and Tyler was shaking, was this really Happening?

" Just Knock and walk in, they are ready for you" the man waved and left Tyler infront on the door, he had to pinch himself, he wasn't dreaming. Tyler Knocked on the door a loud " Come in " and he opended the door, right there sat the three band-members Joe,Kevin and Nick, they all started to shake Tyler's hand and greeted him very Kindly.

The boys showed Tyler around, behind the stage, the lights, the soundbooth, the Arena floor and lastly the Costume room, Tyler was showed the Iconic leather pants, the Jersey shirts, they joked around in there for sometime " Hey try one of my caps, I think it would suit you " Nick gave him one the the caps hanging, Nick had been right, Tyler loved the cap.

" Can I just use the toilet guys? I'm so sorry for bothering or taking up time"

Tyler was showed to the Toilets by Nick, who waited outside, just incase Tyler got lost on the way back.

Tyler was wasing his hands when he started to notice them become bigger and hairy, which was weird for him, his arms started to grow lot more hair too. It was getting hotter inside the toilet, he felt like he was overheating, his arms begun to bulk up, these were the type of muscles Tyler had dreamed of.

His shirt ripped and he felt his pecs grow and his felt a something like a punch in the stomach, it was abs forming. Tyler couldn't handle the pain, his vision became darker.

Five minutes later he came back, splashed his face with water and looked inside the mirror, his jaw, new jaw was on the floor, it wasn't himself, but Nick looking back at him in the mirror. How? He couldn't understand how?

" Nick are you almost done, we are on in 10 minutes, hurry up " the new Nick didn't know what to do, but he rushed back to the Costume department, grabbed the first thing he saw, kept the hat on, and went out on stage.

[soul-controller]

Father-Son Bonding

When Scott Matthews first found out that his girlfriend was pregnant, the 20-year-old college student was ecstatic. Despite the newfound stress he now felt in terms of finding a career that could sustain a wife and kid, there was nothing else that he wanted more than to be a father. 

In his youth, the man found great solace in his close relationship with his father, so when Scott and his wife went in for an ultrasound and discovered that they would be parents to a boy, the man was eager to replicate it with his first-born. Just like his father, Scott was an incredibly athletic and handsome guy, which allowed his father to help mold him into a standup guy who was both instantly charismatic to others and appealing to the eyes. His father helped coach him in sports and do fitness training with him on the weekends, so the concept of doing the same for his own kid was extremely exciting for the expecting father.

But as his son Jacob was born and began to grow up, Scott was disappointed to learn just how different his life was in comparison to how he envisioned it. Firstly, the man had never considered the concept of being a single father, but he was forced to accept it after losing his wife to cancer a few weeks after Jacob’s sixth birthday. Even prior to the death of his wife, being the main breadwinner was a lot of stress and hard work so the fact that he now had to handle his roles on top of his wife’s after her death made him feel incredibly overwhelmed.

Additionally, the warm tight-knit relationship that Scott aimed to form with his son never really materialized. Attempts to play catch or be active outside were instantly rejected by the young boy, who would have much rather stayed inside to read books and watch television. Despite his own disappointment in not having a sporty son, the man still viewed his son’s behavior adorable as it just reminded Scott of how much Jacob resembled his mother. But in the aftermath of his wife’s death, it soon became a painful reminder of what he lost and thus only caused the duo to become more disconnected as they both grew up. 

By the time sixteen years since his birth had occurred, Jacob had also come to realize a similar case of disappointment and resentment towards his relationship with his father. Unlike his popular and athletic father, Jacob was more of a reserved academic – who found flexing his intellect more interesting than his muscles. In school his father was a straight C student, so the 16-year-old wasn’t too shocked to realize that the mid-30s man didn’t have much understanding or interest in most of his hobbies or coursework (including the AP courses he took at school).

Yet even if his dad didn’t understand anything, Jacob still would have loved it if his dad ever attempted to show up to his various events and provide some encouragement. But unfortunately, the young man was forced to attend mathlete competitions and Science Olympiad events utterly alone with no one to cheer him on. Of course, his dad said that he couldn’t get off of his factory job to go, but Jacob knew deep down that his dad just simply didn’t want to go. He always knew that he resembled his mother more than his father, so sometimes when he’d sit and think about why his dad wouldn’t come, he’d feel guilty believing that he was a constant reminder of his father’s loss and suffering.

Eventually, their tensions reached an all-time peak after his father didn’t come to the final mathlete competition of the semester. As they drove home, Jacob was the one to break the tension, asking why his dad hated him so much. From there, their conversation bounced between annoyance to tear-filled responses as the duo finally purged themselves of all of their innermost thoughts. Once his dad’s truck pulled into the driveway, Jacob exited and headed into the house with haste before slamming shut his bedroom door and falling into his bed.

Despite wanting to patch things up with his son, Scott’s own tear-filled eyes caused him to choose to give the duo some alone time so they could properly comprehend their emotions. As a result, the duo simply fell asleep crying into their pillows, wishing that somehow someday their bond would be unbreakable and the duo would equally understand each other. 

Upon waking up that next morning, both men were shocked to find that their bodies had been swapped. Of course, such a shock caused both men to decide that they needed the day off to fully focus on figuring out what happened and how to swap back. So now forced into the fatherly role, Jacob called into his father’s job before then calling his high school to state that his “son” was sick and thus staying home for the day.

For both men, it was equally uncomfortable and unnerving to find themselves in each other’s bodies, especially due to Scott’s new teenage morning wood refusing to dissipate and thus forcing him to deal with his son’s boner. The same could be said for Jacob upon waking up in his dad’s body, especially as his father slept nearly nude besides his underwear so the teenager was forced to look at a rather scandalous amount of his father’s muscular mid-30s dadbod.

Despite their best attempt at finding some sort of online solution or consulting with supposed “magical consultants”, no solution to their body swap problem ever presented itself to the duo. As a result, the worries of both income and teenage truancy meant that they were left with no other choice but to live the lives that they had been magically forced into.

Understandably, the adaptation period was quite rough for both men as they adapted to the new roles that they were either 20 years too early or too old for. For Jacob, it was an instant struggle adapting to being the hardworking breadwinner of the family. Additionally, the teenager wasn’t the type to get his hands dirty or be physically active, so the concept of going to work in a factory was incredibly daunting and terrifying quite frankly. In fact, there had been several instances in his first week as his dad that the young man had nearly gotten himself severely injured by a machine.

As for Scott, the popular and athletic man had quite a rough time adapting to his son’s life. Rather than the countless friends that he had growing up, Jacob only had three best friends who were a part of the same programs and clubs as Scott’s son. As a result, his social life was relatively limited and thus meant that he had a lot of free time to just wander around town or find somewhere to hang out to avoid going home and interacting with his son-turned-father. Additionally, it was an absolute mindfuck for the straight C student to suddenly find himself tasked with living up to his son’s potential. He could barely pass biology and chemistry yet now he was expected to ace AP variations of these courses!

Over time though, the initial distance between the duo faded as they found themselves needing each other to best adapt to their new scenarios. With the several near-injuries that his son experienced at his job, Scott worked hard to help teach Jacob what to do in addition to teaching him about his co-workers and how to stay safe 24/7. In response, Jacob returned the favor by helping tutor his father in those tricky AP subjects that he did in addition to showing up to Scott’s various Science Olympiad and mathlete competitions due to his intense nerves. 

As six months passed, both men had ultimately begun to accept that they would most likely never be going back to their old lives. Yet despite how most would mourn such a loss, neither the new Scott or Jacob felt that way. As time passed and they got into the routine of their new lives, the duo had truly felt as though they had been given a new lease on life. While “Scott” was able to be more mature, it also meant that he had the ability to help improve the family’s situation by beginning night school courses at a nearby college for engineering. In time, the 36-year-old hoped that one day he’d be able to leave the mechanic position at the factory entirely and instead get himself promoted to one of the engineering positions which provided a much more appealing salary.

So as Jordan lifted up his phone to take a selfie with his father at the county fair, both men’s smiles couldn’t have been more genuine as the son’s finger pressed on the camera button. Through some magical interference, the father and son had grown closer than ever and after being able to say they’ve lived both of their lives, each man could confidently say that these were the bodies and lives that they were meant to have.

Eager to read more stories like this? Head over to my Patreon to discover tons of hot transformation fiction including monthly mini-stories like this one!

[gluion]

first to know you, first to love you ➵ eric sohn

all you should care about is graduating with flying colors, so why are you starting to care about your seatmate?

requested by @mosviqu @sohnric for the song "valentine" by laufey

general genre/warnings ➵ strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life, afab reader (they/them pronouns), reader is a psychology student who has so much aspirations (and also believes love and studies cannot be balanced), eric is your seatmate-turned-friend-turned-lover, library dates reading dates study dates you name it!, eric is the most supportive guy out here, he annotates a book for you..., references to books and poetry, he buys you stuff, and he reads a book for you!!, slight hurt/comfort, kissing, also unedited IM SORRY!!!

word count ➵ 10k words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel

a/n ➵ okay i am WITHIN the word limit!! but i know i went over the limit of scenarios (this may be the last time this happens... i don't know yet... help?) but i hope you enjoy this bar!! i am not too happy about my writing style for this one :') and i know reader may not be very "black cat" as i know you but i hope you'll still enjoy it to the fullest </3 also i made sure to not mention anything related to height LMFAO for the other readers: if you enjoyed this, always make sure to reblog (even if it’s on your tbr)!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! want to request? check out my guidelines! masterlist

The years spent in university may be defined differently by everyone. Some may live out these years to enjoy the supposed independence they craved in high school. Others may spend those years exploring their interests and hobbies as they figure out what their future may have in store for them.

You, however, were a different case—head in scientific journals and coursework with a plan to graduate summa cum laude. As you study in a quota course, you’re determined to come out of university with flying colors. In a sea of students who are of similar (or even better) skill sets as you, the desire to be recognized as one of the top students is what you long for.

And for you, that means you were set on not entertaining ideas that may divide your attention from your studies—you were not going to allow yourself to fall in love in your years of university.

That is until a certain boy who goes by Eric Sohn came into your life.

CHAPTER ONE: LOVE LABORS LOST

The season of summer still lingers in the air; birds chipper as they sit on the tree branches; the sun glows yellow in the sea of blue; people point their fans at themselves as they are forced to bask in the heat.

But the new academic year has commenced, and you are determined to ace your classes once more. You’ve read the syllabi of all the classes you were going to take, even ones for your general subjects. Many people believe that general subjects are a waste of their time. You, however, thought differently, especially since one of the subjects you’re taking this semester is English Literature.

Coming from a STEM-oriented course, you may not seem like the type to enjoy literature. But the reality is that you love to learn about poets and writers—ones who seemed to craft worlds and dynamics that you could never translate into words. This misconception of those who enjoy science being unable to appreciate written bodies of art is one you face. But at least this course is a general subject, leaving you on equal footing with individuals from different courses.

You sit by the window as you wait for your professor to finish setting up his laptop. It’s syllabus week, so there wasn’t much to be worried about. Once he clears his throat, he shows the class a smile.

“Good morning, class. I’m Mr. Hwang Taejoon, and I am your professor for Introduction to English Literature.” He takes a moment to look down at his clipboard which you can only assume holds a list of his students’ names. “If this isn’t your class, you may take this opportunity to leave.” Some students get off their seats and make their way outside the classroom.

As soon as they left, your professor smiled before clapping his hands. “I’m excited to go through this semester with you. I know this is only an introductory course for you, so I will make sure to guide you all throughout. Now, will–”

The door of the classroom slams open. Your eyes snap to where the sound comes from, showing a boy whose black hair is all tousled up as he pants. He’s all dressed up in a varsity jacket over his hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. You notice how his hand quickly reaches out to his head, fixing his hair. 

The boy then immediately bows down to the class (mostly to your professor) as he says, “Sorry about being late!” Your eyes drift back to Mr. Hwang whose face now holds a frown in contrast to the smile he once showed to you. “I promise, I won’t be late for any other session!”

Mr. Hwang grumbles before he takes another look back down to his clipboard. “Go take a seat.”

The boy stands up straight before flashing your professor an apologetic smile. He quickly makes his way to find a seat. Despite the vacant seats that are located throughout the class, his eyes quickly skimmed through them. That is until his eyes land on you. You notice how his eyes flicker to the empty seat beside you. And the next thing you know, you find him situated to your right.

You try to keep your eyes on your laptop, looking at the text on the syllabus. You didn’t want to stare at him—the boy who took the vacant seat beside you out of all the ones situated around the classroom.

The noise he creates as he brings out his laptop is not loud enough to interrupt the discussion but can drown out your professor’s words. But as soon as he settles down, you notice that he sets his hand down on the space between the two laptops. You cannot help but let your eyes flicker to it, and you notice his wrist is littered with beaded bracelets.

“Now, I’ll be discussing the outputs you are expected to deliver within the semester.” Your eyes snap up to where your professor is, standing right behind the table as he looks through his laptop.

You were ready to focus for today’s session until you felt someone tap your shoulder. As you look to your side, you are met with a boy who shows you a smile—one that is enough to almost have you smiling back, just almost.

“Hi, can I ask if there was anything I missed?” It’s a simple question, but you find yourself unable to formulate an answer. His voice is enough to send you into a lullaby; he could have his own podcast and you’d listen only to hear him speak nonstop, whether it would be of logical discussions or nonsensical chatter.

Without any idea of how to voice your thoughts, you only shake your head. He nods and shoots you a wink before looking back to the professor.

You should’ve been thrown off by his sudden action. If anything, you have every right to roll your eyes at him. But you do nothing of the sort, only looking back at your professor who demands your attention while your mind remains preoccupied with the boy beside you.

This could be due to all the years focused on your studies. You could care less about all the people who tried to earn your affection, from your classmates in your majors to even those part of the same club as you. But the boy emits an aura that has you only thinking of him. How can you ace this class if you’re turning putty at the first meeting? You need to get a better grip on yourself.

“Now, I want you to answer these,” Mr. Hwang says as he flashes a question on the screen: What role does literature play in your life? “And talk about it with your seatmates. Now would be a good time to get to know your classmates with the upcoming paired assessment around the corner.”

As you read out the words on the screen, you are not given enough time to think as the boy beside you clears his throat. You look back at him, met with the same smile he flashed at you then. Does he do this with every person he first meets?

“I think I should introduce myself. I’m Eric Sohn, majoring in Hotel Culinary Arts,” he says with his hand out toward you. You take a glance at his hand before letting yourself hold it, shaking it firmly.

“I’m Y/N, majoring in Psychology.”

You notice the way his eyes widen as you mention your course. “Do you perhaps know someone named Kevin Moon?”

The mention of your friend’s name has you smiling. “Yeah, I do. We’ve worked together since we’re part of our home org. How do you know him?” Your hand drifts away from his, crossing your arms as you listen intently to what he has to say.

“Mutual friends,” he reveals as he lets one of his arms rest on the back of your chair. With one hand tucked under his chin, he rests his arm on the table. He takes a glance at the screen shown in the front to refresh his memory on the question. “Would you like to go first? Or do you want me to start?”

You nod your head, signaling for him to start. He takes a deep breath as he looks up to the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. “Well, I’ve read a few books then and there, but I think it was only when I entered uni that I started really reading more books if that makes sense.”

As his eyes meet yours, you nod as a way to show you understand him. “Yeah, I hate to admit this at first meeting but I’m a very romantic person.” You cannot help but raise your eyebrows at his words, earning a chuckle from him.

“I swear, I am! That’s why I started reading because my sister got me hooked on some romance books, so I’d like to think that literature helps me imagine scenarios I would love to see play out.” You notice the way he starts to scratch the back of his neck. “It doesn’t have to be me as the protagonist, but I’d like it,” he shyly admits, making you smile unconsciously.

God, you were not the type to just smile at some random boy. So why did Eric seem to have this effect on you?

Your thoughts snap you back into reality; the smile is now replaced by your calm demeanor. “I guess I can start.” As you see him signal for you to continue, you bite the inside of your cheek as you let your eyes drift to the screen.

“Well, I’ve been reading my whole life, actually,” you look back at Eric who seems to show genuine interest in what you have to say. Oddly enough, you feel as if you can tell him more than just the typical story you tell people.

“I know people don’t expect me to be this type because I major in Psychology, and I have this tendency to read a lot of scientific journals and textbooks for my classes but that’s because I enjoy learning about the human condition.” You let your eyes drift off to nowhere as you reveal a part of you to a stranger. Maybe it’s because he’s a stranger that makes it easier for you to admit details you wouldn’t normally admit to someone whom you’ve met under a different circumstance.

“But I’ve always had an affinity for reading. Books can be a form of escapism through fictional stories, but they can also be a way to encapsulate memories of someone,” you continue with a small sigh. “I have been quite behind with my reading schedule though, so I’m hoping this class may propel me back to getting back to reading.”

He hums as he nods before saying, “No, I get it. I like that answer.” You look back at the boy who only smiles at you. “It’s nice to know that you still want to go back to reading despite how much your other classes demand it. I know many people who’ve lost that love and don’t see themselves going back to it, you know?” You nod at his words.

You were no stranger to the love-hate relationship when it comes to reading. If anything, that is how you’d describe your relationship when it comes to the hobby. But you were hoping that the upcoming years would treat you right and that your love for said hobby may not dissipate. 

“Yeah, I would hate to lose that form of escapism from my studies.”

He nods with a small chuckle following. “I get it, I would hate to lose it, too.”

With no idea how to respond, you expect silence to follow. But Eric quickly fills it as he asks you a question. “Do you know anyone in this class?” As you shake your head, he lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, same.”

You cannot help but giggle. “I mean, if I knew someone, then I would be sitting with them,” you point out.

You want to ask him why he chose to take a seat beside you, but he beats you to it by asking you another question. “Do you have a class before this?”

“Uh, no,” you say as you quickly take a glance at your laptop, moving the windows away to show your schedule. Since the semester just started, you didn’t memorize your schedule. “It’s my first class of the day, but my next class is around 3.” You look back at the boy who cannot hide the way he reels at your schedule.

“You have such a long break. But me too,” he says as he pulls out his phone. As he shows you his schedule, you notice how big of a gap he has for today, where his next class is happening around 6 p.m. “But at least the other days are back-to-back. I just didn’t get lucky with my Mondays and Thursdays. I tried to change it but all the professors denied my request.”

You cannot help but sigh at the sight of his schedule as you remember yours. “Same. Well, I guess we’re stuck with our shitty schedules.”

Then, he asks, “Do you want to exchange schedules and numbers, perhaps?” Your eyebrows shoot up at his question. “I mean, I just don’t know anyone here, so I’d love to at least have a familiar face I can go to, especially for this class.”

You know you’re about to enter dangerous territories. With the numerous books you’ve read, you were sure this is what books typically started their stories with—a meeting between the two protagonists whose relationship will only have room to blossom.

And you should have kept him at arm's length. You didn’t want to risk getting friendly with someone like Eric because even at the first meeting, you couldn’t help but feel yourself drawn to him. But he’s nothing but kind and there should be no problem with allotting him space to take up in your life. All you need to do is stick to your plan—no idea of pursuing romance shall be entertained until you graduate. You can only hope that your interest in him is just a happy crush, one that will never flourish further. 

So you find yourself nodding to his request to which he grins. But before he can say anything, the light comes through the window. He squints as it hits his face, raising his hand to shield his eyes.

“Here, you can put your number and social media then I’ll send you my schedule.” The boyish grin on his face alongside the sunlight that makes him glow is a sight the universe has gifted to you.

You’ve read all about protagonists being bewitched by the presence of another, but works of literature have not prepared you to experience the same. For once, you wish you could find the right words to describe the sight but all you can think of is what a pleasure it is to be seeing this at the start of your day—you can only hope that your happy crush remains that way.

CHAPTER TWO: LITTLE WOMEN

The later hours of the day dawned upon you. The fluorescent overhead lights are dim as only the lamps situated at every table shine bright; you enjoy them for they never make the library bleak. The wooden interior found in every corner of this library reminds you of your own back in your childhood home. But the main act of the show is the books; the wide selection they offer has you always here at every possible hour, whether it may be to study or to possibly read for leisure.

You usually find yourself alone on most occasions spent here. If you found yourself working on a group project, you would usually opt to have such meetings at the study hall situated a few buildings away. It made sense to have those in a place where you could freely talk versus a library where it would be limited to occasional chatter or whispers. Today, however, is an exception, for you now sit across from your partner for your first paired work for Mr. Hwang’s class.

“I don’t usually spend my time here, but it’s nice,” Eric voices out as he looks around, taking in the sight of his surroundings. There were barely any students in the library around these hours. Usually, it would be you and some familiar faces you recognized because of the numerous instances you stayed here.

You’re not sure why you didn’t push for the study hall, but Eric’s explanation for choosing this place made sense. If you were going to study literature, why not do it in a place that is filled to the brim with it? It’s convenient if you need to quickly pull out a book because you’re already there. But the reality is that you liked this space as your own—somewhat like a part of the university that you believe to reflect the intimate parts of you.

You hum while you look down at your iPad where your notes are all scribbled down. “I’m always here. I spend most of my time studying or reading here.” You look up to Eric whose gaze is trained on you. Oddly enough, it feels like his eyes sparkle despite how dim the environment may be.

With that, you break eye contact with him as you look over a few tables away where you notice students who you knew only by their faces. “Yeah, like I know some of the people there just because we always seem to stay in the library until the closing hours.”

He hums before asking, “Do you know their names?” You shake your head before looking back at him.

“I only know the names of the librarians and staff. I’ve never been bothered to know the names of the other students, but we still say hi whenever we pass by each other.”

He can only nod at your words. “Sorry about interrupting the discussion, we can go back to it.”

“It’s fine.” You cannot help but smile as you shake your head. “It was a break we needed to take.”

He shoots you that boyish grin—one you’ve grown fond of after seeing him every week for class—before he continues, “So, we were talking about the confession scene of Laurie.”

“Ah, that one,” you cut him off as you lean back in your chair.

He chuckles for a moment. “So, what are your thoughts on the scene?”

You let out a sigh before saying, “Well, I am 100% on Jo’s side. I mean, she has every right to decline a man’s confession, especially if she has all these aspirations she wants to achieve.” You bite on the inside of your cheek as you recall the passages in your head. “And the audacity for Laurie to be, I guess, “jealous” of Professor Bhaer is unreasonable. I mean, it’s clear she doesn’t have room for anything romantic in her life, and I think that should be respected.”

“But,” Eric quickly scrolls through his notes found on his laptop. “Don’t we learn later on that Jo ends up longing for love in the end? Doesn’t she end up wanting both—a chance to pursue her dreams while also longing to be in love?”

You cannot help but chuckle at his counterargument. “Yes, but I think that this book was written poorly. I mean, we learned in the earlier chapters that Jo did not want to marry, and didn’t we also learn that Alcott only wrote Jo and Bhaer marrying each other because her publishers forced her?”

Eric hums for a moment. “I mean, we do learn that. But I think another way to look at it is that Jo was not ready to let someone take up such an important space at that period of her life. And I think it’s perfectly fine for her to realize later on that what she thought then is not what she wants after all.” With pursed lips, he lets his gaze flicker away from the laptop and back to you. “I know we put relevance to the context of the author, but I think it’s fine to derive our own interpretations of the text despite what the author intended, you know? That’s at least what I learned in my Art Appreciation class.”

Your partner for this assignment brought up valid points. It’s not like he was telling you to agree entirely with his interpretation of the later sequence of Little Women. Instead, he was engaging in discourse with you, sharing what he thought of the scene to provide a different perspective.

“I just,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I just think Jo’s character was so revolutionary in the field of classics. I’ve read so much about women being viewed as individuals who are only meant to marry, but authors never put importance into their aspirations. I think that’s why I loved Jo’s character.” When you notice that Eric keeps his gaze on you without any sign that he’ll interrupt, you decide to continue. “She clearly had her priorities and wasn’t willing to let the idea of romance get in the way.”

Eric’s expression slowly starts to shift into confusion. Despite your words speaking on Jo’s character, it was starting to make sense to both of you that these sentiments came from a personal standpoint.

“Is this you speaking from experience?”

For a moment, you think of lying to the boy who sits across from you. You didn’t want to hear whatever comments he would make of your own choice to keep your love life as lackluster as possible. Yet, his eyes speak thousands of words—all revolving around curiosity. And you realize that maybe Eric won’t judge you. After all, when has he ever shown you that he would criticize you?

You sigh as you let your eyes look down at your notes. “I’m not looking for a relationship, or love, in general. I don’t think I have the time to even sustain one, and I care too much about my studies to even consider it.” You look back at Eric whose doe eyes still seem to shine.

He nods, letting silence take over. Your answer hangs in the air, almost as if you two needed it to marinate further. That is until Eric decides to break the silence.

“Do you ever get jealous of what you read?” You cannot help but tilt your head at his question. He shakes his head, trying to gather the right words to say. “I mean, you’ve read so many books, and I’m sure many of them have revolved around the theme of love and romance, especially the classics. Do you not want to experience that for yourself?”

Eric’s question seemed to be rooted in genuine curiosity. And you cannot help but ponder over his words.

It’s true that you would find yourself longing to experience the wonders of love that writers seem to talk about. It would be untrue if you said you didn’t give the idea a second thought—what would it be like to allow yourself to enjoy romance all while you study for your degree? But then you remember that there wasn’t anyone, really, to have you consider such. It was only an idea you would think about but never proceed with—there was no one to take up that space in your life to begin with.

So you sigh, shaking your head as you look back down at your notes, and say, “It’s not like anyone has given me a reason to reconsider.” You leave it at that, deciding not to indulge in the topic any further. And Eric only hums, looking back at his notes.

You take this opportunity to review your notes, recollecting every detail that is worth discussing with Eric for the upcoming presentation. Unbeknownst to you, however, your partner has his mind preoccupied with another matter—what can he do to become the reason you consider?

CHAPTER THREE: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

The moon may be shining brightly tonight, but you’ll never know. All huddled up in the library, the lamp on your table shines over your laptop and sprawled-out notes. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this library. All you know is that you still have papers to accomplish and exams to study for.

But at least you were going through this in the comfort of your favorite spot in the university for they seemed to keep the library open all day during midterm season. And at least you had someone there to keep you company during this mess.

“This paper is impossible,” Eric complains as he rubs his eyes from exhaustion. You’re sure it’s past midnight. “What did you write your paper on?”

You cannot help but yawn. “Uh, I wrote it on Still I Rise just because it answers the prompt pretty well.” With droopy eyes, you look at your friend who now leans his head on his arm that is propped up on the table.

“Man, that’s good.” You cannot help but chuckle at his reaction. “I’m hesitant about using a poem just because I’m scared I won’t be able to share my thoughts well. Like, I know I talked about how we interpret the text as something that matters, but sometimes I cannot make sense of what these poets are saying.” His tired expression shows how long he’s been pondering on what to write.

With the paper due a few days from now, you were sure Eric was pressured to think of anything to write about. So you decide to lean back in your chair, brainstorming for anything to help him. Yet, you only draw a blank, clearly exhausted from all the studying and writing you’ve been doing.

His cackle comes out of the blue. Your eyes snap to his face, seeing that his crinkled eyes are set on you. You don’t miss how the students around your area shush him. Eric is suddenly aware of how loud he is as he cannot help but sink into his chair out of embarrassment.

“Sorry, the expression you had on your face made me laugh,” he shyly admits.

You frown at him before saying, “Fine, you’re on your own now.” Your eyes dart back to your laptop.

“Okay, wait!” He quietly exclaims as he grabs onto your forearm. Your eyes drift to his hand that rests on your arm, slowly drifting away from exhaustion. Before you can comment, he retracts his hand. “I would love your help.”

As your eyes settle on him, you notice the pout that rests on his lips. His doe eyes still manage to sparkle in the dimly lit room. The sight warms your heart—you almost let your calm demeanor falter.

“I wish I could help but for once, I can’t think of anything.” As you say those words, the cold air hits your skin. You cross your arms as a shiver runs down your spine.

Somehow, Eric is quick to catch on to your behavior. You watch how he pulls off his hoodie, hair ruffled from the action. And before you know it, he hands it to you.

“Here,” he says as he drops it right beside your laptop, covering your notes. Although you shake your head, he can only roll his eyes. “You clearly need it more than I do.”

With no sign that he’ll back down, you cannot help but sigh. You grab onto the piece of clothing and slip it on you, getting a whiff of a fruity and spicy scent that clings onto it. With how big the hoodie is, it almost acts like a blanket. And when you look back at Eric, you notice the soft expression that takes over his face—a smile that is enough to warm your heart.

“I think you should take a nap.” His suggestion has you shaking your head. “You’re clearly tired.”

You roll your eyes before going back to your laptop. “I can’t or else I’ll be behind on my tasks.”

“Okay, but if you only take an hour to nap, I’m sure you’ll feel well-rested enough to work better.”

Your friend made a valid point. At the rate you were going, you were barely absorbing anything. But you didn’t want to slack off nor did you want to fall behind on your studies.

And as if he notices your worries, he says, “I’ll make sure to wake you up an hour from now.”

You cannot hold back the smile that appears on your face. Somehow, Eric knew all the right words to say in the short span of time he has gotten to know you. And before you know it, your arms settle on the table as you find your chin settling on them. Whether it would be from pure exhaustion or Eric’s persuasion, you found yourself settling in a position good enough to allow yourself to nap.

The victory smile that takes over Eric’s features is one you wish you could smack off his face for you know it’s because you ended up listening to him, but it’s also one you want to store in your memories. His grin is enough to have you smiling back, though you bury the bottom half of your face into the sleeves of his hoodie, getting another whiff of his perfume.

He then goes back to his laptop, scrolling away at what you can assume to be the instructions for the essay required by Mr. Hwang. As you watch him ponder, you cannot help but take in his features; from his strong jaw all the way to his eyes that manage to easily shift between a strong glare to a soft gaze. He is someone sculpted by the deities—you weren’t sure why the universe chose you to be graced by his presence.

In your time knowing him, you knew that he presented himself as a goofball to many. He became the life of the party, per se, for he managed to create a comfortable atmosphere for everyone.

And yet, you knew that it’s only a mask he chooses to wear for the sake of others. In these moments, you learn that he is more than just a childish guy. Past all the layers, he is profound—you first learned that when he shared his interpretation of Jo’s character. You hope that he can find more moments where he’ll expose that side to you.

You move your chin to rest on your arms. “Can I ask what’s your favorite book?” Your sudden question has his eyes snapping at you. “I just realized that we’ve known each other for half a semester because of an English Literature class, but I never bothered to ask about your favorite book.”

He cannot help but chuckle before saying, “It’s The Notebook.” His answer has your face contorting into disappointment. “Hey, what’s wrong with that?” The way he gets defensive has you erupting into a giggle.

“It’s just okay for me. I didn’t enjoy it that much when I read it.”

He furrows his eyebrows not due to disapproval but genuine curiosity. “Okay, so what’s your favorite book then?”

“Pride and Prejudice.” The answer leaves your mouth quickly, almost like it’s second nature to answer the question with that title.

He hums before admitting, “I’ve never read it.”

“Yeah, it shows.” The remark leaves your mouth without letting a second thought come. You notice the way Eric’s expression shifts into a scornful one, and you cannot help but giggle. “I just think that you might reconsider what your favorite book is after reading Pride and Prejudice, you know?” He only nods at your words.

You let out a sigh. “I actually want to reread that book after midterms are done.” Your blinks are slow, exhaustion taking over your body.

Eric is quick to notice how sleepy you’re getting. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you up an hour from now.” All you do is hum before snuggling the lower half of your face into the sleeves of his hoodie, eyes now closed.

A few minutes pass, and you hear a chair screech softly. You can only assume that Eric had to use the washroom. But when you heard the chair move once more only a few minutes later, you were sure that he only had to get something.

As you hear him clear his throat for a moment, you keep your eyes closed. You try your best to not show you’re awake. And once more minutes have passed, you decide that the coast is clear.

Once you open one eye, you notice that Eric is leaning back in his chair with a book in his hand. He reads it intently, unaware of your gaze on him. You let your gaze drift to the cover of the book, and it takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. In his hands is a copy of Pride and Prejudice, the same one you found yourself revisiting just to read your favorite passages.

As you let your eyes close, a smile shows on your lips. Thankfully, it is hidden by the sleeves your face is snuggled into. With the sight replaying in your head accompanied by his perfume, your heart warms at the thought of him. You can only hope that he’ll love that book as much as you do—you can only hope that this infatuation will pass.

CHAPTER FOUR: EMMA

The season of fall has come; the sky is a patchwork of hues of orange; the leaves have turned to shades of brown; the wind has gotten cooler. Long gone was the heat that summer brought—you were dying to experience the joys of autumn.

Thankfully, you finished your last class for the day. As students piled out of the classroom, you were taking your time tidying your things. For once, you didn’t have any tasks to accomplish within the day which meant tonight would be time for you to enjoy, all snuggled up in bed as you finally reread Pride and Prejudice.

You were satisfied with the grades you received from your midterm assessments. Somehow, your efforts spent studying reflected well in the feedback your professors provided. Now, you can reward yourself with reading your favorite book.

When you exit the classroom, you expect yourself to go straight back to your dorm. However, the sight of Eric Sohn standing outside with his back leaning on the wall is what disrupts your plans.

“Eric? How did you know I was here?” Your shocked expression has him chuckling.

“We exchanged schedules, remember?” He says as he stands up straight, walking closer to you. You two stood in the middle of the hallway with little to no students in sight. “I kind of got lost, if I’m going to be honest.”

As he admits that information, you cannot help but giggle. “I mean, this is where most of my major classes are. That’s why I’m surprised to see a Hotel Culinary Arts student like you here.” He shoots you that boyish grin which has you smiling back. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure? Do you perhaps need help with the upcoming assessment for Mr. Hwang’s class?” You attempt to joke as you remain unaware of the reason behind Eric’s visit.

But when he pulls out a book from behind his back, your smile shifts into a shocked expression. In his hands is a new copy of Pride and Prejudice, one different from the one that he was reading in the library that one night. As your eyes zero on the book he holds, you do not pay attention to whatever expression Eric may have.

“I finally got around to reading your favorite book, and I have to admit that you’re right. I think this might be my new favorite book,” he hands the book to you. Your hands trail over the cover, still shocked that he ended up finishing it. “And I wanted to finish it before you reread it.”

You were expecting him to only read a few chapters, but for him to find enough time to finish it before you could pick it up? You realized you were screwed.

Your hands find themselves flipping through the pages—and holy shit, there are notes and scribbles all over the pages. “I wanted to annotate it just so you can also read my reactions and interpretations as you reread it.” Your mouth parts open at his words, clearly in awe of the action.

The pages are littered with underlines and circles, highlighting passages and quotes that seem to resonate with Eric. On the margins, you notice notes that are simple one-liners and others that are long enough to fill up the pages’ spaces.

“I–I don’t,” you look up to the boy in front of you. With his smile still plastered on his face, you do everything in you to find the right words to say. Yet, it’s impossible—this is the first time someone has done this for you.

He chuckles at your lack of words and says, “I would love to stay and hear how much you enjoy this, but I unfortunately have a class to get to all the way in the Culinary Arts building.” He lets his hand rest on your shoulder, squeezing it as if it’s his way to snap you out of your trance.

But the thing is you are not in any way out of touch with reality. Not only did he give you an annotated copy of your favorite book but he waited until your last class in a building that is all the way on the opposite side of where he needs to be. And at this moment you knew you were doomed—that this budding infatuation is turning into something more.

“I’ll see you next week in class, okay?” He says with a smile. You can only nod, still unable to speak. “Or tomorrow, if you’d like.” And before you can question him, he quickly makes his way out of the building. You let your eyes watch his figure that continues to sprint away.

As soon as he’s gone, you look back down at the book in your hands. You flip through the pages as you still remain in shock at what he gifted you. That is until you notice a post-it note stuck on the last page. When you open it to the page, you expect it to be an index of what his annotations mean. Instead, it is a message directed towards you, and you cannot help but feel your heartstrings tug at his words.

would you be interested in going on a reading date with me?

❑ yes ❑ no </3

p.s. you can just text me your answer :) maybe we can plan something tomorrow (that is if you see it by the time i give this to you)

And you tell yourself that this is wrong—that you should not be considering his offer no matter how friendly it may be. But with how he’s been treating you, you almost hope that this isn’t just him being friendly. You want to be on the receiving end of his affection—of his love.

It seems stupid to go back on your word of refusing to entertain love. Your plans are focused on graduating summa cum laude without ever allocating space for someone to take up your time. But is it wrong that someone has you reconsidering what you originally thought? Is it a sin for you to want to experience the joys of love despite your past reluctance?

So for once, you fully understand Jo’s character—you want to achieve in your endeavors all while experiencing the joys of love. And there’s nothing wrong with having that mindset after all.

The season of autumn is your favorite; the sight of leaves falling is a sight you cannot help but enjoy watching. In the same way leaves fall from the tree to the ground, you have fallen for Eric Sohn.

CHAPTER FIVE: SONNET 18

“So, what’s your favorite scene from Pride and Prejudice?” You decide to ask Eric as you two pass through shelves filled to the brim with antique books.

He hums as he follows closely behind you. “I think it was the first time Lizzie and Mr. Darcy danced together.”

You glance at the boy behind you, humming along with his answer. “Yeah, I really like Austen’s use of the motif of dance.” You come to a halt as you stand in front of a shelf full of classics. “I mean, she uses dance to show attraction between Mr. Darcy and Lizzie without them even realizing it.” Once you turn your head to face Eric, you notice a smile on his lips.

“Yeah, they’re remarkable,” he mutters as his eyes remain on you.

Under his gaze, your knees start to get weak. You cannot help but gulp as you look back to the shelves with cheeks dusted red.

Today, you and Eric were in the middle of a date—not a reading one, but an actual date. At first, you were nervous about having lunch with him mainly because you weren’t sure what to talk about. But he found a way to lead the conversation, making sure to build an environment where you two could talk about anything and everything.

Eric decided to bring you to an antique bookstore near campus considering that you two share an affinity for reading—though you were more interested compared to him. The selection they have covers fictional classics all the way to nonfiction recipe books. It’s definitely smaller than what the library offers but bigger than another bookstore you tend to frequent.

As your eyes scan through the collection, your eyes catch onto a copy of Sense and Sensibility, another book by Jane Austen that you’ve been meaning to pick up. “Ah! I’ve been meaning to read this,” you exclaim as you pull it out. With your eyes still looking through the selection, you spot another book you’ve wanted to read for a while. “Oh, they also have Wuthering Heights!” As you grab onto the other book, you look down to admire the covers. 

While you’re entranced by all the antique books standing in front of you, Eric cannot help but chuckle at your reaction. You whip your head only to see that god-forbidden boyish grin on his face—the same one that got you hooked onto him at the first meeting. He leans his side on the bookshelf all while he stares at you.

With that, you frown as you tilt your head. “Why are you laughing?” The question that leaves your mouth is out of genuine curiosity.

“No reason,” he starts off. “You’re pretty, especially when you talk about books.”

Your eyebrows raise in shock, thrown off by the sudden compliment. Eric has never been the type to tell you such during your time knowing him but hearing him say it now has your knees weak. Suddenly, all resolve was gone and you had no idea how to respond. 

And before you know it, you say, “You’re pretty, too.”

The words come out quickly without a second thought, and only when they leave your mouth do you realize how weird you are for saying such. But you notice the way his smile gets bigger, and you cannot help but feel your cheeks warm up once more out of flusters and embarrassment.

“Are you done picking out the books you want?”

“Uh, yeah,” you start off as you glance at your books. “What are you going to get?”

He hums as he stands up straight, looking at the shelf in front of you two. “Do you have another book recommendation for me?” He looks back at you.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you hum, thinking of a book. “Maybe Jane Eyre? By Charlotte Brontë?” You’re ready to tell him the synopsis of the book, but he doesn’t spare you another second for he grabs the book.

“Okay,” he smiles as he raises the book up. “I’ll pay for your books while I’m at it.”

You immediately shake your head at his words. “Huh? No, you don’t need to.” You hold the books close to your chest. “You paid for lunch already.”

He rolls his eyes before extending his free hand out to you. “It’s fine. I want to buy these books for you.” Your eyes are wide as you slowly feel yourself moving the stack of books away from your chest. “So long as we get to have that reading date, I’m happy to buy them for you.”

You would deny his offer, but you hate to admit that the idea of having someone you like buy the books you’ve been wanting to read has your heart warming. Buying you books, reading your recommendations, and annotating a book just for you—they’re the easiest ways to your heart, and he figured them out.

With that, you find yourself handing the two books to him. He smiles as he glances at the three books in his hands. And before you know it, he quickly links his arm with you as he drags you to the cashier. You don’t know how you got lucky to know a guy like him. 

CHAPTER SIX: SO TIRED BLUES

Usually, the hours of the night are the ones you find most comfort in. It’s the illusion of being away from the hours that demanded you to interact with others. You love spending your time alone doing whatever, whether it may be your own hobbies or the coursework you need to accomplish. This time of day had you in a state of tranquility, at most, for you were comforted with the idea that nothing can disturb you.

But for once, you weren’t calm during these hours. As you stare at your shared document that barely had any input from your groupmates, you feel your sanity slipping away. This assessment is due two days from now—what can your groupmates offer during this time crunch?

You lean your head in your hands as your eyes rest on your keyboard. As you let out a groan, you cannot help but grip your hair out of frustration. 

“What’s wrong?”

As you look at your friend who sits beside you, you cannot help but pout. “Eric, I can’t do this.”

Despite these hours being reserved for your alone time, you chose to spend these with him. The date was a success—you two were practically inseparable at this point. But you two were still going on dates without any expectation, still exploring whatever you two truly felt towards each other.

To be fair, you were still hesitant about jumping into a relationship with him. You still weren’t sure how possible it was for you to handle your studies along with being in a relationship. And you hate to admit it but you’re terrified—what if the love you read about is nothing like what you’ll experience with Eric?

So for now, you’ll only allow yourself to enjoy what you have now. It is only when the universe forces you to confront these sentiments that you’ll figure out the answer.

He crosses his arm as he leans back in the booth you two sat on. “You want to tell me about it?” And for a moment, you consider not doing such. You didn’t want to waste both yours and Eric’s time complaining about shitty and unresponsive groupmates.

But he doesn’t give you a moment to indulge any further in those worries, for he says, “We have enough time for you to talk about it.” He shows you a smile, one that is enough to bring you comfort. “Let me become someone you can lean on.”

And with that, you find yourself spilling out your frustrations. “I’ve just been so stressed, you know? My group mates are so shit, I’m not sure how good of an output we’ll be able to submit on time,” you start off. “I’ve been reminding them nonstop to do their work, and they just keep ignoring me. And it doesn’t help that my professor doesn’t give a fuck.”

Eric cannot help but let out a hiss of annoyance at your situation. “That’s terrible.”

“I know, right? And this assessment is at least 30% of my grade. How am I going to get an A in this class if my groupmates refuse to help?” You cannot help but groan as you lean back.

As you stare up at the ceiling, you tongue the inside of your cheek as you ponder over the situation you’re in. And you’re not sure what takes over you when you share your next set of thoughts. “I just–I want to achieve so many things, but it’s so hard when you’re not supported.”

Despite your eyes staring up at the ceiling, you can feel Eric’s gaze on you as you reveal a part you’ve never shared with him. So you let out a sigh before saying, “I know I talk so much about wanting to ace all my subjects and graduate with flying colors, but some days it’s hard to keep up with that type of mentality.” You let your eyes close for a moment. “It’s hard to aspire for so many things when you don’t have someone to fall back on.”

Although you have the passion to achieve the different goals you set for yourself, it becomes impossible to keep that fire going on most days. Sure, you had friends from your course and extracurriculars, but they were never ones you could find yourself going to easily. In most instances, you would be by yourself as you were scared to insert yourself into people’s circles.

With that lack of a support system, it became difficult to attain your goal. Although you try your hardest to keep your mind set on the prize, you cannot deny that you find yourself slipping into burnout in most instances.

“I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of burnout, you know? And I know most people would say to take a break or to indulge in a hobby, but,” you look at the boy beside you whose face is full of concern. “I’m exhausted from reading.”

It’s something you didn’t like to admit out loud. Eric knew you as the person who would read at any hour if they could—the one who wishes they could consume books even while asleep. So it hurts to say that you were growing tired of the hobby—the one thing that provided you escapism.

You let out a bitter chuckle as your tired eyes drifted away from him, staring off into the distance. “It gets hard to read when all you do in a course is read. It requires so much energy, and most days I just don’t have that.” As you say those words, you let out a sigh. “And even when I forced myself to read, whether it would be for my own pleasure or a requirement for school, I could never digest the passages.”

Eric hums at your reveal. And when he reaches out for your hand, it feels as if all your worries are lifted off your shoulders. “Is there any way that I can help?”

You cannot help but chuckle as your eyes rest back on him. With his worried expression, you only show him a small smile. “No,” you shake your head. “But it’s fine. I’m glad that someone listened to me.”

It’s not like you were aiming to have your problems solved by him. If anything, you realize how much weight was lifted off of you after admitting these to a friend.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m sorry I can’t do much to help you, especially with your group work.”

You can only hum as you take a deep breath. “Yeah. I just need to take over their parts and remove their names, I guess.” As you say that, Eric cannot help but nod along with a chuckle leaving his mouth.

You’re about to get back to the work you were dreading until he asks you something. “Hey, I don’t know how much this would help, but maybe I can read you some passages of where I am in The Awakening if you’d like.” Your eyes widen at his suggestion. “I’m sure you’re way ahead of me but this could be a refresher, you know? While you take a break, I can be your audiobook.”

And you cannot hold back the smile that shows on your lips. Somehow, Eric is always looking out for you, whether it be through keeping your love for literature going or making sure you are well-rested on most occasions.

With that, you find yourself leaning your head on his shoulder. As you let your eyes close, you mutter, “Yes, please.”

He chuckles at the way you seem to melt on his shoulder. And just like that, he starts to recite the words of Chopin.

As his voice fills your ears, you’re reminded of the first time you first met Eric. Something about his voice is enough to ease your worries—to bring you into a state of tranquility. And somehow, he became the late hours of the day for you—you’ve managed to find peace through his presence for all he did is support you. 

CHAPTER SEVEN: HOW DO I LOVE THEE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS

It seems like the season of fall is about to end. It’s getting colder than usual and you cannot help but wear more layers than you typically would during autumn. Although winter is about to come, however, you were seated on a picnic blanket with your back leaning against a tree trunk. And on your lap is where Eric’s head lays as he continues to read Jane Eyre.

While you were trying to read your copy of Wuthering Heights, you couldn’t help but glance at Eric every once in a while. After going on multiple dates with him throughout the semester, you weren’t sure exactly where you two were in your relationship. And you know you should take the initiative to ask, but you didn’t want to say the wrong words.

“Eric,” you call out his name as your voice quivers. He looks away from his book to stare right back at you. As he hums in curiosity, you cannot help but bite the inside of your cheek. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you sit beside me?” You notice his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “During the first meeting, I mean. Why did you choose to sit beside me when there were other vacant spots?” As you say those words, you spot how his mouth parts open in realization. However, it shifts into a smug grin.

“Cause I thought you were cute.” His reply has your eyes widening in shock. You knew Eric tends to be straightforward, but you weren’t expecting that to be his answer. You were sure that your cheeks were warm at his reasoning.

He then sits up, now face-to-face with you. “Well, that’s what I thought at first. But I got to know you more through the times we studied together, you know?” With his eyes staring intently back at yours, you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“I mean, the first time I got to know you, you were talking about how you wouldn’t entertain the idea of romance, so I couldn’t help but become interested in you.” His hand reaches out for yours that rests on your lap. “And throughout our time together, I learned about all your hopes and dreams and your love for literature.”

You notice the way he takes a deep breath in as his eyes close momentarily. “I couldn’t help but like you,” he admits. As soon as he opens his eyes, he is met by yours that are wide as they stare back at him.

“I’m sure it wasn’t a secret with how we were going on dates, but I thought I should vocalize it now,” he starts off as he looks down at your interlocked hands. “I was starting to wish that these dates would give you enough of a reason to reconsider what you first thought—that maybe I could become a reason for you to reconsider after all.”

But as soon as he looks back at you, you feel your heartstrings tug as he draws circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. And the next thing he says is enough to warm your heart. “But I would never push you into a relationship with me. I know you care about your studies, and you worry too much about your grades. Sometimes, I wish I could tell you to take it easy.” He cannot help but giggle as he says those words, causing you to laugh along with him.

“But I hope you know that I’ll be here to support you, whether as a friend or as your boyfriend if you’ll have me.”

And you realize that you’ve been wrong all this time. You’ve fallen under this idea that the road to success means to get rid of all distractions—that love is nothing but a hindrance to the path you want to take. But it’s not that you can only have one or the other—you could choose to have both if you made the effort to do so.

In your time knowing Eric Sohn, you learned the joys of love even if you weren’t signing up for such joys came in the form of him. To you, he is what the poets describe as love embodied. From the first time you two worked together all the way to midterm season until your breakdown, you realize that he is the support you were seeking out all this time. And so you wonder to yourself how lucky you can be to receive something you weren’t seeking but still desperately craved.

So you let yourself lean forward, your face inching closer to his. His breath hitches at your action. As your eyes flicker down to his lips for a second, you cannot help but hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your eyes meet his, and you notice the way he holds his breath. So you cannot help but let yourself smile for a moment.

And before he knows it, your lips crash into his. Your hand reaches out to the side of his face while your arm wraps around the back of his neck, holding him close. His hand holds onto your waist, drawing shapes on it with his thumb.

As your noses bump against each other, Eric cannot help but giggle in the middle of the kiss. You two part away as you continue to look at each other. “So, will you let me be yours?” And his question is enough to pull on your heartstrings.

It’s the phrasing that gets to you—his choice of words to let him be yours versus you being his is what has you realizing just how much he likes you. It’s this whole idea that you didn’t have to surrender anything to him for he is willing to build around you.

But the reality is you would do the same for him—you’re willing to make space for him to take up in your life the same way he already has done for you.

And so you say, “You can be mine if you let me be yours.”

The boyish grin you first found yourself falling in love with appears on his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You wish you could tell your past self that nothing goes according to plan. What you may have first thought is not what may push through in the end. While you were never signing up to find love in your years in university, the universe decided to give you a reason to reconsider. And now you know that you can have both—that you can achieve your aspirations while still being in love. All it took was time, effort, support, and a boy named Eric Sohn to have you believe that.

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[psychooomind]

Flickering Lights

Michael Gavey x singer!reader

Summary: Michael and Violet come from completely different worlds, but when their paths cross at university, an unexpected connection sparks between them. As their relationship deepens, they must navigate secrets, misunderstandings, and their own fears. Can their love overcome the odds, or will the time put them apart?

A multi-entry, slow-burn, friends to lovers fic.

You can also read it at AO3 here.

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Chapter 2: Crushed

Michael’s watch read two in the afternoon as he walked, book in hand, his brow furrowed in thought. He had attended all of his classes for the semester, and despite his impeccable academic record, his experience at Oxford had not started as he had imagined. While the coursework was demanding, what truly unsettled him was the presence of classmates who were almost as capable as he was. Perhaps they couldn’t solve problems mentally with his precision, but their competence was enough to make Michael feel genuinely challenged. It was disconcerting not to be the sole intellectual standout in his classes.

In Logic, a subject Michael had eagerly anticipated, he met Joshua Dankson, who completed Professor Sanders’ logic problem a mere eighteen minutes after him. This prompted Joshua to approach Michael, seeing him as a potential rival. However, after a brief conversation, Michael realised Joshua was more interested in socialising than intellectual pursuits; his first question was whether Michael was attending the weekend’s party. Slightly disappointed, Michael pressed on, asking more about logic, only for Joshua to reveal that he simply enjoyed puzzles and problems but lacked any greater ambition. The one silver lining was Joshua’s invitation for Michael to join the Chess Club.

Then there was Oliver Quick, the boy from the first day’s dinner. He was studying computer science and preferred solitary study sessions in the library.

But among his classmates, one figure stood out as the source of Michael’s deepest irritation: Victor Bryon. Michael found Victor’s combination of effortless charm and academic negligence infuriating, particularly because it never seemed to hinder his performance. Over the past month, Michael had yet to see Victor open a single book, yet he consistently achieved good results with minimal effort. Since their vending machine encounter, Michael had come to realise that Victor had a knack for turning casual comments into cutting jokes, almost always at someone else’s expense.

In Advanced Calculus, another class they shared, Michael began to suspect that Victor had singled him out as a target for mockery. One incident cemented this belief. One day, Michael arrived at the lecture hall carrying a precarious stack of supplementary reading books that left him unable to open the door. Victor, instead of helping, swung the door open dramatically only to let it slam shut in Michael’s face. It was Oliver who eventually came to his aid, holding the door open with a smirk.

“He’s such an idiot,” Oliver muttered.

Michael nodded, but internally, he was already scheming how to outperform Victor and expose his carefree façade. It might make him an even bigger target, but Michael was determined to protect his position as the top student.

“Hey, Gavey,” Victor called after class, using a nickname that grated on Michael’s nerves. “Fancy doing the next calculus assignment together? Word is, you’ve got a brilliant brain for this stuff.”

Michael frowned. “Why would you want to work with me?”

“You’re the only one who’s up to the task, mate,” Victor replied with an easy grin.

Although hesitant, Michael agreed—not because he trusted Victor, but because he wanted to prove himself superior on his own terms. Yet things did not go as planned. During one of their study sessions in the library, Victor took a book that didn’t belong to him—a prized text Michael had saved for months to buy. Victor assured him he would return it, insisting it was just a reference for their project.

Michael was left wondering whether he had made a mistake in agreeing to the partnership, but his competitive spirit wouldn’t allow him to back down.

Several days passed, and Victor seemed to be avoiding Michael, to the point where he suspected it was deliberate. However, that didn’t stop Michael from catching him one evening outside the campus with his friends.

"Victor, do you have my book?" he asked cordially.

"Oh, mate," Victor replied with a mocking smile. "I completely forgot to bring it. My bad."

Michael nodded curtly and stormed off, visibly annoyed. A few days later, he confronted Victor again, only to hear Felix Catton, the boy with the eyebrow piercing, burst into laughter. Once more, Victor apologised.

"It’s my book, Bryon. Return it," Michael said, clearly irritated.

"It’s just a book, mate," Victor teased. "Are you going to throw a tantrum over it, like you did at the welcome dinner?"

Oliver, who had been watching the exchange, placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder, steering him away before things escalated into a fight.

"I’ve heard he doesn’t live on campus," Oliver said, attempting to distract him. "His dad bought him a flat on Marston Street. I can ask for the address so you can confront him privately."

The next day, Oliver sat beside Michael in the library and discreetly handed him a slip of paper. Michael smiled faintly. That afternoon, resolute, he made his way to the flat on Marston Street and knocked on the door. As he gathered all his courage to demand his Advanced Calculus book back, a red-haired young woman answered. Her loose hair framed her pale, freckled face, and she greeted him with a gentle smile.

Michael suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

The girl wore a denim jumpsuit adorned with shiny appliqués on the lapels. Her smile was kind, almost disarming.

"Can I help you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Michael, who was often awkward in social situations, froze for a moment.

"Ah... um... Is Victor here? I think he has one of my books," he stammered.

"Victor isn’t in right now," she replied, her chocolate-brown eyes holding his gaze. "But if you want, I can look for it. Do you remember what it looks like?"

Michael muttered a description, and she disappeared briefly into the flat, closing the door behind her. When she returned, she held out his book.

"Is this it?" she asked.

"Yes, that’s the one," he said, adjusting his hair awkwardly. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome," she said with a broad smile, dimples appearing on her cheeks. "I’m Violet, by the way."

"Michael," he blurted out. "Michael Gavey."

"Well, Michael, I doubt Victor even realises he took your book. He’s a bit of a mess," she added with a light laugh.

Michael smiled timidly and nodded, though his mind raced with thoughts. He couldn’t help but wonder if Violet was Victor’s girlfriend. How could she not be? She was stunning, with her reddish waves falling carelessly over her face, and her denim jumpsuit seemed to fit her curves perfectly.

He simply smiled, turned, and walked away. On his way back to his dorm, Michael couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her image was seared into his mind: her flowing red hair, the freckles that mapped her delicate features, and her easygoing demeanour.

Yet the encounter also left him with an odd feeling. For the first time in weeks, someone had treated him with casual kindness, free from the subtle judgement he usually sensed from others. He was surprised to realise that, although Violet had looked him directly in the eye, there had been no hint of the usual scrutiny in her gaze.

That night, as he struggled to focus on his notes, Michael found it impossible to think of anything but the red-haired girl and her charming smile. He realised not only that he would never be able to adopt Victor’s carefree attitude but also that he could never hope to be with someone like Violet.

Meanwhile, at the Bryon flat, Violet sat on the edge of her bed, scribbling in a notebook she’d been trying to fill for weeks with more than clumsy phrases. It was a letter to her father, yet another attempt to bridge a connection she felt had been lost. Their relationship had always been strained, especially after her mother’s death.

Frederick Bryon longed for a daughter who didn’t exist: a poised young woman he could show off for her impeccable behaviour or her studies in architecture or medicine. But he’d had to settle for Violet. She knew he didn’t hate her, but she also felt the weight of his disappointment, his unspoken wish that she would be something... more.

Meanwhile, the apartment remained in complete chaos. Empty beer bottles and piles of dirty laundry left scattered around by Victor only added to the mess. Violet had argued with him that very morning, but, as usual, her complaints were brushed off. Frustrated, she scooped up the clothes strewn across the floor, balled them up, and tossed them onto Victor’s unmade bed. If her brother thought she was there to clean up after him, he was sorely mistaken. She’d had enough, especially after their earlier spat. Victor had grumbled about her returning the book—his book—to Michael, claiming he’d taken it to push the boy to the brink of madness. Annoyed, Violet had called him out, reminding him they were no longer teenagers and that it was high time he grew up.

Unbeknownst to Michael, Violet lived in a completely different world from Victor. Her passion for music consumed most of her time, between rehearsing with her band and preparing for gigs at Barry’s Pub. While the tension at home was constant, music provided her with a much-needed escape. For Michael, the idea of someone like Violet existing in the same orbit as Victor was baffling. That night, without realising it, he had crossed paths with someone who would change the way he viewed life at Oxford, though he was far from knowing it.

But Michael couldn’t get her out of his head. Her fiery red hair, her bright eyes that held none of the judgment he was so used to, the way her smile seemed to light up the air around her—she had settled into his mind and refused to leave. Every time he tried to focus on his studies, her image would slip in, disrupting his thoughts. He could practically hear her voice, soft yet vibrant, every time he replayed their brief exchange.

The next day, Michael returned to class with renewed determination. Not only did he need to outperform Victor academically, but he also felt the urge to prove himself socially. Yet, no matter how much he tried to concentrate, Violet kept intruding. Her carefree smile, her freckles, the effortless way she’d made him feel seen for a moment—it all clung to him like an unresolved equation. He was certain she wasn’t a student at Christian Church, but that only deepened the mystery.

Days after meeting Violet at the Bryons’ apartment, Michael slipped back into his routine. Between classes, group project deadlines, and his silent competition with Victor, he barely had time to think about anything else. Or so he told himself. Every time his mind wandered, it landed squarely on her. What was she doing at that very moment? Was she thinking about him, even fleetingly? The thought made his chest tighten, though he quickly dismissed it. Why would someone like Violet give him a second thought?

One afternoon, Oliver strolled up with his usual carefree gait, an old, crumpled flyer in hand.

“Look at this,” he said, tossing it onto the table where Michael was poring over his calculus notes.

Michael smoothed out the paper and immediately noticed the name Wrecked Shiny Girls. What caught his attention even more was the surname Bryon, listed among five others as members of the band.

“Where did you find this?” Michael asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Found it in the hallway near the Student Hall,” Oliver replied with a smirk. “It was crumpled up, probably thrown away by Victor. Do you know anyone in the band?”

“No, not at all,” Michael lied.

Could it be that the red-haired girl wasn’t Victor’s girlfriend but a relative? They both had the same fiery hair and, now that he thought about it, similar features. But Violet was so distinct, so vivid in his mind, that he couldn’t imagine her as just anyone. Her laughter, her smile, the way she’d tilted her head slightly when she spoke—it all felt like a puzzle he was desperate to solve.

As Oliver continued talking, Michael’s pulse quickened. He had to know for sure. Was Violet the Bryon in the band? Was she a cousin? A sister? His heart raced at the possibility. He had already made up his mind: he would attend the concert. Not because he cared about the music, but because he couldn’t shake the feeling that Violet was more than just a fleeting encounter. She was becoming an obsession.

Barry’s Pub was packed. The small stage barely stood out amidst the dim lighting and towering amplifiers. The crowd, mostly students, chatted animatedly as they waited for the show to begin. Michael and Oliver were near the bar, watching the patrons with curiosity.

“Have you listened to any of their songs? I’ve heard them all,” Michael admitted to his friend.

Oliver glanced around and shook his head. “Do you think we’re the only ones from our classes here? This place seems... a bit rough.”

Michael shrugged, keeping his focus on the stage.

The chatter hushed as the five band members took the stage. Each wore outfits that reflected a mix of carefree styles: leather jackets, worn boots, and tight trousers adorned with shiny embellishments. Michael immediately recognised Violet. Her fiery red hair fell in loose waves, and a denim jumpsuit stood out beneath her jacket. Though he knew she was in the band, seeing her confidently take the microphone caught him off guard.

The music began, intense and charged with energy. Violet didn’t just sing—she embodied every word, every note. Her voice filled the pub, her presence commanding the space. Michael couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“She’s pretty good,” Oliver remarked, raising his voice to be heard over the music.

Michael didn’t respond. He was too mesmerised, watching Violet interact seamlessly with her bandmates and the audience. There was something in her demeanour—a blend of raw passion and subtle vulnerability—that held him captive.

When the final song ended, the lights dimmed, and applause erupted throughout the pub. Violet stepped off the stage with the other members, stopping to chat with some of the attendees. Michael’s gaze followed her intently, and when their eyes met, she waved at him with a bright smile before walking over.

“Hi!” Violet greeted him warmly, clearly recognising him. “You’re the guy with the lost book, right?”

Michael nodded, feeling a surge of nervousness as he looked down.

“Yeah, I came to see the gig,” he said. “I didn’t know you were in the band. I’ve been following you for a while—” he lied, “—and it was amazing!”

“Oh, thanks!” she replied, her smile widening. “I’ve been with the band for two years. How long have you been listening to our songs?”

“Uh, a few months now. Do you write the songs yourselves?”

“Most of them, yeah. We all collaborate on the lyrics and the music.”

Oliver, who had been silent up to this point, finally intervened.

“Excuse me, I’m Oliver,” he introduced himself. “Bryon? Any relation to Frederick and Victor Bryon?”

Violet’s smile faltered slightly, but she composed herself quickly.

“Yes… they’re my father and my twin brother,” she replied, studying them with curiosity. “How do you know them?”

Oliver shrugged.

“We study with him. He’s… interesting.”

Michael studied Violet, trying to figure out if she shared anything more than the surname with Victor. Her kindness seemed to contrast sharply with her brother’s arrogance and carefree attitude.

Violet chuckled softly, easing the tension.

“‘Interesting’ is one way to put it. He’s a difficult guy to get along with,” she said, glancing at Michael. “Michael can vouch for that.”

“Why do you say that?” Michael asked.

“Well… Victor tends to…” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “He can be a bit of an idiot, always provoking people. If you ever, I mean, you guys ever, end up in that situation, I’d just let it go.”

Michael nodded. Violet knew her brother well. He seized the moment to study her, his eyes tracing the subtle tension in her expression. A tiny vein popped on her forehead, and Michael found it endearing.

He was about to say something, anything, to keep the conversation going, but they were interrupted by a girl with spiky hair and way too much hair gel.

“Hey, guys!” she greeted. “By any chance, do you know someone who could take pictures for our flyers?”

“Yes!” Michael exclaimed, causing everyone to look at him. “I… I have a camera, and experience… in parties.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. Violet, on the other hand, smiled widely. The spiky-haired girl asked,

“Are you a photographer?”

“Not professionally, but I think I could make it work,” Michael assured her.

“That could be useful. Do you have any samples of your work?” she asked.

Michael hesitated, and the punk girl looked at him, confused. Violet quickly intervened.

“Michael mentioned it, actually,” she invented smoothly. “He told me when we first met, Walda.” The girl shot her a look. “You know, with exams and everything, I completely forgot.”

Michael and Oliver exchanged puzzled glances. Oliver knew Michael didn’t own a camera, nor was he a photographer. He was certain of it. He watched Michael’s dreamy expression, as if Violet had just said the most incredible thing in the world.

“Alright,” Walda said, clapping Michael on the back. “You’re hired, then, mate.” She left without another word.

Violet burst out laughing.

“Oh, I hope you can get us out of this mess now, Gavey,” she said, smiling at him.

“I’m sure your friend will be disappointed,” he teased.

“We’ll manage,” Violet reassured him. “We can meet up to work on the framing for the photos and all that. Give me your number, and we’ll sort it out.”

Michael nodded, feeling his nervousness bubbling up as she handed him her Sony Ericsson. With eager hands, he gave her his Nokia, and they exchanged numbers.

That night, Michael returned to his room with his head spinning. Oliver had congratulated him as if they had arranged a date. But for Michael, it felt more like he had just been able to socialise like a functional person. He wouldn’t lie—there was something about Violet that intrigued him deeply. But the fact that she was Victor’s sister complicated things.

Michael was completely fascinated by Violet. Since their first encounter, there had been something about her that left him speechless. There was a quality in her demeanor that captivated him, and though he tried to stay calm, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He would love to see her again, get to know her better. But he convinced himself that it would be best to remain just friends, or at least that was what he told himself. He didn’t want anything complicated, not now, especially with the shadow of Victor looming over him.

The idea of keeping things purely friendly seemed like the most sensible option. After all, how likely was it that she saw anything more in him? They had just met, and though she seemed interested, the connection he felt was more of a fleeting attraction, a passing fancy. In his mind, he repeated to himself that there was nothing he could offer her beyond friendship.

However, as he replayed what had happened that night, something didn’t quite add up. The way Violet had acted with him, her ease in making up that story about the camera, the way she had been so confident and relaxed around him—it left him confused. Michael couldn’t understand why she had done all that. Why invent such a detailed story just to make him look good?

He couldn’t help but feel flattered, but at the same time, a growing doubt began to take root. What if it had all been a game? Another prank? Maybe she just wanted to make him feel important, as if he were playing a role in a story he didn’t fully understand.

Michael kept replaying every word, every gesture from Violet in his mind, unable to find a clear answer. Deep down, something told him there was more to it, something he just couldn’t grasp. In a way, Violet had been more direct with him than with anyone else, but he didn’t realise it. He didn’t understand that Violet had been flirting with him. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t recognised the signs.

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what had happened. There was something in the way she looked at him, in her laughter, in the way she had made excuses to stay close. Maybe it wasn’t just friendliness. Maybe Violet, without even realising it, had been showing him something more. And that left him completely puzzled.

How could he have missed it? But the truth was, he had no idea. Maybe he was too shy, or perhaps he had just thought it was all a dream. Maybe, in the end, it would be best to stick with what had happened: a friendship, perhaps an opportunity to learn more about her. He wasn’t ready to believe that someone like Violet, so confident and charming, could actually be flirting with him.

[petrolstationflowers]

Update 13 Dec 2023: Updated 13 Dec 2023 with a Portuguese translation by David Manaia as well as correcting the Level 10 metrics!

A mortician career for your sims! This was requested by Catrillion and was super interesting to research! Your sim can join it via the Hospital rabbithole and is available from Young Adult through to Elder.

If anyone would like to translate this, please feel free! The English strings are included in the download file, just drop me a message here or on MTS!

I used @missy-hissy's career tutorial to make this and a huge thanks to @zoeoe-sims for helping me with some infuriating bugs we finally got sorted out!

Details under the cut!

This career has ten levels and requires you to level Science and the hidden skill Styling, which can be improved by using the Styling Station to do makeovers at the salon. The skill won't show up in the skills panel, but the metric should change and you can track its level through MasterController.

Since there wasn't a strict progression for this job IRL, I've varied it a little bit to encompass all skills a fully qualified mortician and embalmer would need. There's long hours and extra studies included -- it's not an easy job!

There's no opportunities or books to read, but there are uniforms from the Medical career included, which should show up from Level 2. Carpool only shows up at Level 2 onwards, so don't panic if you need to manually send your sim to work.

Please note if you want to use this, you must have Nraas Careers installed for it to show up!

There's two custom tones:

Study Anatomy (increases Science) Practise Styling (increases Styling)

I've put the levels, hours, and pay under here if you'd like to take a look: Level 1 - At the Crossroads - 10:00 until 16:00, M-F, 10 simoleans p/h

Description: "You’ve always been fascinated by death, sneaking into the movie theatre to watch the horror flicks much too young and reading books your mother would have definitely taken away from you. You have a knack for biology and have followed Olive Specter’s SimTube channel since she first started uploading in the middle of the night. With the job market uncertain right now, why not look into becoming a mortician? It can’t be any worse than EverFresh Supermarket…"

Level 2 - Apprentice - 09:00 until 15:00, M-F, 30 simoleans p/h

Description: "After many days of scrolling through job listings and qualifications in the hospital cafe, you’ve finally found the guts to apply for an apprenticeship. It’s not the best paid and you’re still stuck in the classroom, but at least the coursework is interesting. Now just to pass the exams…"

Level 3 - Mortuary Admin Specialist - 09:00 until 17:00, M-F, 40 simoleans p/h

Description: "You’ve passed your course, got that diploma, and swaggered out of that classroom with a spring in your step… only for your first gig to be doing the admin work at the local mortuary. At the moment you’re spending your time booking appointments and sending emails with the occasional aside of cleaning the equipment, but show enough enthusiasm and you’ll soon be moving on up."

Level 4 - Mortuary Technician - 09:00 until 18:00, Mon/Wed/Fri/Sat/Sun, 60 simoleans p/h

Description: "Your first actual job is dressing and caring for the deceased, making sure they’re laid to rest in the coffin of their choosing and that their funeral is exactly what they and their family wanted. It’s delicate, gentle work, making sure death has dignity. Sometimes it’s the living that need you more; you’ll need a calm voice and be a shoulder to cry on for families who have to say goodbye."

Level 5 - Mortuary Technician Team Leader - 09:00 until 18:00, Mon/Wed/Fri/Sat/Sun, 75 simoleans p/h

Description: "You’ve proved to have a light touch with the makeup brush and know the right words to comfort the bereaved, so a promotion is in order and that means working with the parts that make up a human body. Your duties will include weighing organs, taking tissue samples, and reconstructing bodies so they’re ready to be buried. Make sure you study up on identifying diseases in organs if you want that promotion!"

Level 6 - Senior Mortuary Manager - 09:00 until 18:00, Mon/Wed/Fri/Sat/Sun, 105 simoleans p/h

Description: "Finally, proper pay! Unfortunately, it more means managing your coworkers than the corpses. You’re allowed to sign off on the higher level decisions and have more responsibility, but you didn’t get into this role to do people management. Maybe there’s another path you can take…"

Level 7 - Trainee Embalmer - 12:00 until 21:00, M-F, 50 simoleans p/h

Description: "Back to the classroom you go! Sort of. You’ve put in an application to train as an embalmer, and are splitting your time between shadowing one of your senior coworkers and attending night school. It’s long and tiring, with late study hours for not much money, but it’ll pay off in the long run (you hope)."

Level 8 - Qualified Embalmer - 09:00 until 16:00, M-F, 200 simoleans p/h

Description: "The graft has paid off, and you’ve got another diploma under your belt (as well as a bit more cash, thank the Watcher). You’ve transferred back to the hospital mortuary but this time to work as an embalmer, washing and taking care of bodies and taking all the steps to make sure they’re preserved with the right chemicals. It’ll require careful technique with not only the embalming fluid and syringes, but also your empathy; you’ll need to make sure the family, as well as their loved one, are well cared for."

Level 9 - Mobile Embalmer - 18:00 until 03:00, Mon/Tue/Fri/Sat/Sun, 220 simoleans p/h

Description: "For some reason, embalming isn’t a sought after job – which means good news for you! Work is dispatching you all across SimNation to provide your services, from vampire attacks in Bridgeport to meteor strikes in Lunar Lakes. You’re spending more time in hotels than at home, and while you’re raking in the money, maybe it’s time you struck out on your own."

Level 10 - Locum Mortuary Technician - 11:00 until 15:00, Mon/Sat/Sun, 500 simoleans p/h

Description: "You’ve had enough of the corpo grind and chucked it in; you’re freelance, baby! As a fully qualified mortuary technician and embalmer, you pick up agency shifts and choose when and where you want to work, on whatever catches your eye. If someone wants to pay you good money to preserve the corpse of Bigfoot for their collection, now you don’t have to turn them down for something more sensible. After all, if you love your job, you don’t work a day in your life!"

[crippy-tangerine]

Growing up autistic when not fit into “gifted program” category (because brain cannot do that stuff!), but also did not have needs met enough to get the specialist education you probably needed, is strange… (/neutral tone). Our experiences don’t really line up with either of the experience “categories” people mention on here. (Nobody’s “fault”, just observation!). Never seen our (specific?) experiences talked about, so here goes nothing, we want to talk about our school experiences with undiagnosed autism (and comorbidities), because been thinking about it a bit… Realising that maybe find more people similar experience if actual talk about it.! So…

Warning for mentions of bullying, ableism, suicide, abuse, social isolation, eating disorders, generally poor mental health!! Not happy post, skip if this is a sensitive group of topics for you! (/genuine and serious tone).

Putting all info under cut, please only read if you ok to!!

-> So. Go from the… From the start… Not really “school”, but sort of is? Americans call it kindergarten- is where children age like 2-5 years old go? During weekday? We went there when still no mouth words (or only a couple basic words? Cannot remember). Used sign language apparently most things. But apparent not interested in talking verbally. But not remember any of this time (not surprising).

-> We went to a tiny school in tiny rural village from that age until we were 11(?). Have speech (unreliable with verbal shutdown) this point. Was no special education in that school, or gifted program- instead all kids put in one big class and get same lessons. Except the “slow” kids like us… We were “bottom set” for mathematics, which meant getting pulled out of the group classes + sitting in the corridor with the other “slow” kids and trying to learn stuff whilst sat on the floor in a cold corridor. Do not have enough memory to comment on how our lessons were different from the others, but is fair to say they did not help..

-> It is possible the corridor lessons were done when the rest of our class had “golden time” (time to play instead of a lesson). But unsure about that right now (memory loss).

-> We would struggle hugely with homework (specifically mathematics + whatever minimal science we did at that school). Routinely sobbing over simple sums and equations because our brain could not understand, and we would be yelled at by parent for not getting it and being “difficult”. Getting regularly told “you’re not [insert ableist word], so why can’t you just figure it out?”.

-> We were “behind” our best friend in school, and would get compared to them by our own parent often, because “couldn’t you be more like them?!”. Very unhappy experience to be told you’re not good at something, but also not allowed be bad at it, and the only thing you’re allowed to be is worse than your friends. Uncomfortable “middle” space. No peers around us to relate to because socially isolated (aside from best friend). Misunderstandings with best friend too- socially confused and not able understand other children. Out of place.

-> In our next school still in the “bottom sets” for stuff. In none of the “gifted/top sets”. Having new concepts introduced constant and unable to understand them or apply them, crying from stress and fear regularly, mental health declining (many reasons- school work didn’t help).

-> Unable to keep up with coursework for any subjects, struggling more as years go on and coursework increases. Failing exams, not turning in work, unable to focus in lessons so not writing any notes…. All dismissed as us being difficult, lazy or anxious. “You’re smart you just need to try harder!” when we are already completely past limits.

-> Got assessed at some point for specific learning disabilities (stuff like dyslexia, dyscalculia, dyspraxia) for exam accommodations (because we couldn’t finish any exams we did)- met criteria for multiple. Never diagnosed with anything though, not told that brain is clinically slower/“worse” than 99% of our peers in some areas; instead just given extra exam time and told that is all “anxiety”. Not allowed view self as gifted, also not given language identify with disability. Left in middle space yet again and told to “try more”.

-> Extra classes/“revision sessions” during our lunch times with teachers (all our friends except one got to go eat lunch, go to clubs, chill out- but we were often in little classrooms trying to learn science theories everyone else already learned).

-> “Worth” routinely measured by academic success (it was… One Of Those Schools… /negative tone). We were not “worth” much. And we were visibly Other because of the autism and stuff. So bullied by peers and staff throughout entire six(?) years there. Hated by staff (poor mental health, visibly “mentally” disabled, “disobedient”/“difficult”/“lazy”/“rude”, queer/trans in bigoted school, etc.).

-> Ended up in position where missing months of coursework, rarely handed any work in, had no notes for anything was meant to have learned (had to copy friend’s work in all our free time) and we were fully convinced would fail the major exams (to be able change schools).

-> Routinely missing classes because panic attacks, autistic shutdowns, general anxiety + fears (and a hatred for all classes, teachers, students at this point). Hiding in the toilets for hours because not able leave school (gated/locked doors). Walking out of classes midway and not going back in because unable cope.

-> Unable mask autism + antisocial traits as much as used to, obviously combative and demand avoidant (now seen as “scary” by all peers because verbally aggressive, picked fights with teachers over their bigotry, generally unable to pretend to like people at all, rude and physically took out violence by hitting/slamming objects). Hated by most of peer group and teachers, losing friends did have.

-> Took big exams running on fumes. Fumes. Our revision for them all consisted of listening to free tutors on YouTube as we did other things, and then cramming written versions of other people’s notes the night before each exam (and the 30 minutes before the actual exams…). Mostly given up at that point- planned on killing ourself if we did not get the marks we needed. Passed most of them somehow. (To a lot of people’s surprise).

-> Moved to new school. Behind from start in some areas because wasn’t caught up with work at last school. Complete train wreck mentally. Spent all free time in “quiet room” (the room for all disabled kids to hide basically). School knew vulnerable from start- but chose subjects found easier, so managed keep up with coursework vaguely for first few months + get by (sort of). Easy to clock as autistic at this point. Visibly mentally unwell from OCD compulsions/eating disorder/depression, more visible Tourette’s symptoms too. Wearing headphones with music on through all lessons. Teachers mostly allow for us specifically because so visibly distressed. Few times not allowed headphones (because substitute teachers), dissociate whole class not able do any work. Not really able remember details any of this time (amnesia again).

-> No “sets” anymore for classes- randomised classes with other students. Completely isolated outside of “quiet room” (disabled) friends, because all abled students could see that “different”/disabled in some way and avoided. Meant had nobody to copy class work from when not able keep up in certain classes. Fell behind more.

-> Start having other disabled students point out that visibly disabled- have other autistic students say stuff like “oh just assumed you autistic too”. Teachers all aware some degree that very unwell (not able hide it anymore- having severe dissociative episodes in classes, doing OCD compulsions during classes, unable speak to/look at other students, looked visibly sick from eating disorder, etc.).

-> Became obsessive over schoolwork- trying meet “perfection” standards for written notes, homework, practice exams. Not meet the standards. Distress over that and difficulty with life generally meant spend all free time in/out of class doing schoolwork. Fixated on doing well- but not able do well because brain not work like that still. Made worse because still told that “very smart”, pressure meet that standard even though never able actually reach unless spend hours (like 3+ hours) on one piece of work meant spend one hour on (example).

-> Missing classes again. Having pick which classes able sit through because unable be in class long enough do a full day (only a few hours maximum in day already, because classes spaced over 5 day period- still unable do that though). Having to leave school grounds regularly because not able stand being in school environment (because too many people, sensory overload from noises/smells/sounds).

-> Not able handle friendships. Still verbally combative, very distrustful, defensive, easily provoked (and became very unkind when provoked). No real understanding what friendships/relationships “meant” look like. Meant vulnerable to abuse, which took because assumed “normal” relationship things. Assumed because nobody else respect boundaries (platonic), okay if happen in relationship (non-platonic) too.

-> One day we just snap. Dissociative episode during lesson. Spend whole time try keep eyes open and not let roll back into head. Virtual laying on table. Lesson end, friends who in lesson with us all concerned, we just go “no fuck this, going home”. Walk out, travel home (impressive, not sure how manage). Barricade self in room for week solid. Not respond anybody during week, ignore all screaming, angry rage from parent outside room. Simply lie in bed dissociative haze, seven days. Not remember it really (no surprise). Never go back that school. Referred emergency mental health care because completely insane this point.

-> Attempt school 2 extra time as adult. First time not even make it back into school setting- enrol then never turn up. Second time manage few months, crash out again because needs not met (still not diagnosed autistic). And never return again. Honestly no plan for us ever go back- disability too severe this point even sit through one class.

-> TLDR: undiagnosed, crashed and burned repeatedly through childhood. Socially isolated + ostracised, bullied by teachers/staff, unable keep up with workload but struggles all dismissed as “laziness”. Dropout age 16-17ish. Complete dropout- no online no part time, nothing. Consume by how bad disability get. Unable function anymore. Not ever given “community” other kids- barely treated human by peers anyways lot of time. Not given language understand disabled. Certain not “gifted” though like other friends.

So… Not relate to “super gifted kid talented perfect student” autistics. Not relate to autistics in special education (because never put in it). Somewhere in messy grey area between. And never see that talked about really. But maybe others relate.?

So here you go- example what a late-diagnosed autistic experience can be like. Is reason one million why late diagnosed not equal low support needs. Our life dumpster fire because mid-ish support needs but never have needs met (and now worsening disability = support needs increased over years). Late diagnosed autistics not all these savant types, super masking, unable tell disabled… We (personally) undiagnosed because neglect + inability get right healthcare.

By the way. This post not say have “easier/harder” time than any other autistics. Just bit different than experiences seen talked about more on here. This not about who have better/worse time. Just want talk about own experience, maybe find others who relate!

This also not meant be “vent” post. Want explain right so others able understand (misunderstood a lot and get harmed because that- so like explain when can).

Okay this all for now, bye, sorry long post…