#and my personal experience with it in high school/college in the 00s

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Know Your Place 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall, destroyer!Chris [for the purposes of this AU, I will give him the last name Jackson] (Professor AU)

Summary: after a life time of home schooling, you finally get to experience the real world in college. (petite reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

The noise all around has you reeling. You’re not used to so many people. So many voices and smells and sights. The frantic action of it all reminds you of a mid-00s movie about a high school. The coeds are like animals milling about in groups with the odd single body rushing between with a mission stitched between their brows. 

You sit with your thermos of tea and try to focus on your schedule. You have a campus map from the Student Support Centre next to it, trying to map out your route for each day. Momma said you should try to get ahead, figure out where you’re going. She’s always right. 

You have two classes that day. As you find the buildings on the map, planting a finger on each, you find that they are on completely different ends of the campus. Of course. Well, momma didn’t know that where they would be, did she? She said you have to balance your load; if you’re going to be an English major, make sure you take some math and science for your electives. 

You circle the two buildings and put lets beside them denoting which day you need to be there, numbering them in the order the classes occur. A burst of laughter breaks your concentration and you look around, trying to find the source. You almost miss the calm isolation of your childhood living room. 

No, you’re grown now and you begged Momma to let you go to college. Not online, but in person. You even worked all summer at the deli so you could live in a dorm. She was proud but worried. She’s never been good at letting go. She’s already called three times today and it’s not even noon. 

As the crowd blurs around you, a sudden gust blows over the table as someone sits across from you. You stare back at them with a gasp. They must’ve mistaken you for someone else. You blink as the man tugs on the front of his letterman jacket and smiles. He doesn’t seem mistaken. 

“Hey,” he leans forward on an elbow, “you waitin’ for someone? Got some cute girlfriends on their way?” 

He’s so forward, he has your brows as high as they can go and your cheeks are on fire. It’s not much of an introduction. 

“Excuse me?” You eke out. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, hon, I’m getting ahead of myself,” he smirks as he crosses both his arms on the table. “I’m Colin. You looked lonely.” 

“Oh, uh, I’m just... figuring out my schedule,” you utter dumbly. Yor brain isn’t clicking. Why is he talking to you? 

Your ears tweak and you notice a group in similar jackets, sitting just across the dining area, gabbing loudly, snickering. You wonder why he isn’t over there with them. You wiggle your pen anxiously. 

“Ah, you’re not gonna give me a name for that pretty face?” He says. 

“Huh?” Your brows drop, “what?” 

Your momma’s voice echoes in your head. ‘Be careful of those college boys. They only want one thing.’ You didn’t believe her. They don’t want that from you. You were sure once you saw the other girls in their tight leggings and short tops. 

“Your name, baby? Gotta be something sweet, huh?” 

Your face ripples as you wade through surprise, confusion, then something else. You’re almost giddy. This man, with his mussed blond hair and bright blue eyes, and his chiseled features, is asking you your name. It’s flattering. 

“Mauve,” you can’t help but smile as you answer. 

“Oh, yeah? That’s pretty, well, Mauve,” he takes out his phone, “me and my buddies are having a party tonight and we’re supposed to find a hottie to bring with us. I’m having no luck but if I show up alone, well... I might not get to stay in the frat. You get it?” 

You stare at him. You're confused. You don’t really understand frats and whatnot. They just seem like clubs people join so they can drink. 

“You wanna do me a favour? Come with me?” He asks. 

He’s bold. Bolder than any one you’ve ever met. You sputter but can’t come up with any words. 

“Please,” he pouts, “promise, I won’t try anything, I just gotta get these guys off my back.” 

He looks over his shoulder at the table of rowdy guys. You squirm in your seat, uncertain. You’ve never been to a party. Wow. 

“Here, I’ll get your number,” he taps on his phone screen, “I’ll send you the details--” 

“Leave her alone,” a grizzly voice undercuts the frat across from you. 

A thick man stands behind him. He has a cardboard cup in his hand as he glares down at the coed. His burly figure is swathed in a dark green sweater and grey slacks. He’s older and his dark curls are threaded with subtle twinkles of silver. 

“Huh? Who the hell are you?” 

“Why don’t you show her those pictures you were snapping of her? The ones you and your pals were laughing about?” The other man growls.  

You frown. What? You don’t understand what’s going on. You look from one to the other. The younger man sat across from your sighs and rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck it. Whatever. Lots of pigs to go around,” he shakes his head and stands, facing the other man. “You know, bro, just cause you’re too old to get with any ass around here, doesn’t mean you gotta ruin it for others.” 

“Get out of here,” the thicker man snarls. The other winces just slightly before puffing up his chest and stomping away. 

You remain as you are, aghast and lost. The man with the dark curls looks at you. You shrug at him. 

“I’m sorry, sir, did I do something wrong?” You ask. 

The harsh angles of his scowl ease and he lets out a long breath, “uh, no, not you. That boy, you know, any one that wears one of those jackets, they’re no good. Just some advice.” 

“Oh, right,” you look over at that guy, Colin, “sorry, I didn’t know. He just started talking to me. I was being polite.” 

“Seem like a nice girl. Just tryna look out for you.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” you chew your lip and sniff. “Are you... are you teacher?” 

“I’m a professor,” he confirms as he holds his cup close to his chest. He's one of the biggest men you’ve ever seen. And his eyes are as blue as the ocean. “Professor Marshall but unless you’re a psych student, you can call me Walter.” 

“Walter? My neighbour is Walter. At home. He’s eighty-one and he collects baseball cards,” you let yourself smile. You always felt more comfortable around older people. You never had many friends your own age. 

“Don’t mind some baseball myself,” he dips his chin. “Well, you look out for yourself and avoid the Greeks.” 

“Greeks?” You make a face. 

“Fraternities,” he says. “And sororities, if you can help it.” 

“Oh, okay. Thank you, sir,” you feel a little better. You think he’s right and he is a professor. He would know. “I’ll do that.” 

“Sir? It’s Walter,” he corrects you. 

“Oh, sorry, Walter,” you smile. “I’m Mauve.” 

He nods and shifts his cup, “Mauve,” he repeats, “well, nice to meet you.” 

“You too, sir, er, Walter. Thank you,” you say. 

He hesitates then steps back on his heel, “yeah, no problem.” 

He slowly retreats and you watch him, your heart playing like a drum. You did it. You spoke to strangers and you didn’t melt. Things are getting easier. If you could get through that, you’re sure you’ll make lots of friends in your classes. 

[gentlebilady]

I Heard That There's a Special Place (Harringrove Pink Pony fic part 4)

Steve smiled tightly at the manager of the Dairy Queen, nodding his head, before ducking out the front door. Rejection number four. Rejection number four today. He’d lost track of the amount of No’s he’d received, not to mention that number of applications he’d submitted and hadn’t heard back on. He didn’t understand. He had work experience, he had a high school degree, he was a personable and friendly guy! He sighed, dejected, tired, hungry. It was Wednesday – the next day would make it a week he’d been in California. He had only paid at the motel for a week. He decided to take a break for the day – it was 3:00 pm. He’d head back to the motel, maybe talk to Sherri for a bit if she was free, pay for another week, and rethink his strategy.

He parked in his parking spot on the back of the building, grabbed the bag of day old pastries he’d picked up from his new favorite bakery (he’d applied there Monday, and during his impromptu interview the manager had offered him a Danish – Steve was a new life-long devotee), and headed to the lobby. It was empty, strains of the Beach Boys coming from a hidden radio.

“Sherri?”

“Just a sec!”

A moment later she wandered out from the back.

“Hello, Steven! How was it?” He grimaced. “Well, damn.”

He held up the bag of mixed pastries.

“Coffee?”

“Just started a pot. Only be a few minutes.”

Steve nodded, placed the bag on the counter.

“Be right back.”

He headed to his room, quickly changing out of his Job Search Suit and into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved polo, before heading back up front. Sherri was already sitting in one of the chairs, two mugs on the table, and the pastries arranged on a plate.

He sat down, taking his mug with a sigh and a smile, grabbing the apple strudel from the plate.

“Am I too old?” Sherri laughed outright. “I’m serious!”

She looked at him, really seemed to analyze him, a smile in her eyes.

“Well, hon, are you applying for jobs too young for you?”

Steve wasn’t sure he understood the question; apparently, Sherri could tell.

“You’re not too old, Steven. But a lot of these places are specifically looking for college students.”

“What?! Why? Don’t they want someone with experience?”

“I don’t know, hon.” Her lips screwed up ruefully. That took the wind out of his indignation. He blew air through his lips.

“So, how do I know what jobs will hire me?”

“If I figure that out, I’ll let you know.” She took a bite of a guava pastry. “Maybe just start by looking at jobs you might not normally consider.”

Steve didn’t know what that would be, but he nodded his head, lost in thought. The Mama’s and the Papa’s came on, and Sherri hummed along, her eyes closed, mug in her hand.

While I’m far away from you, my baby

Whisper a little, prayer for me, my baby

Steve stood up to grab the pile of papers from the counter – he hadn’t checked today’s yet, having gotten straight on the road after getting up this morning, a list of businesses from the day before he was still working on. He brought them back to the chair, drinking his coffee as he checked the Wanted Ads. He looked for something different, jobs he wouldn’t give a second glance. Most of them required certifications or degrees he didn’t have. Many of them he’d already applied to. He started again, going back to the beginning of the page, and tried to look at each listing with a fresh eye.

Comics/Records/Books.

Steve had initially skipped over it for a few reasons: he wasn’t really a reader, he didn’t have a record player, and his dad had always said reading comics “crafted an inferior mind”. Well, his dad wasn’t here now, and Steve was getting worried he was unhirable. So he jotted down the name and address. He found a few other possibilities – a veterinary clinic looking for a receptionist and a bakery asking for an opener. He looked through everything a third time, just to be sure he wasn’t missing any potentials, but nothing else seemed remotely possible. He set the paper down, leaning back in the chair and taking a deep drink of his coffee – it was losing heat and he did not want to be drinking hot coffee gone cold.

“What’d you find?” Sherri peered at him, a second pastry in her hand, coffee mug empty on the table.

“Book store, veterinary clinic, bakery.”

“You sound disappointed.”

Steve sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, pulling on it slightly – he was getting a headache.

“That’s only three.”

“Well, that’s three more than you had 20 minutes ago. That’ll keep you busy for a few hours tomorrow, and by then another paper will have come out with new ads.” She nudged the plate toward him, one pastry left on it. Steve smiled and shook his head.

“I think I need some real food.”

“Well, we’re having spaghetti tonight, would you like to join?”

Steve blanked – he hadn’t expected that. Sherri had been kind to him this past week (exceedingly kind), but he’d started thinking of her as a land lady, and, yes, he had no experience with that sort of relationship, but he had assumed there would be a certain amount of distance (coffee and pastry aside). His brain caught on spaghetti. Damn, that sounded good. He’d been eating mostly fast food, supplementing with whatever could fit in the tiny fridge in his motel room.

“Thank you. I would like that.”

Sherri smiled and said she’d come get him at the end of her shift. She produced the bag that the pastries has been in and slid the remaining bear claw back into it, handing that to Steve. Then she headed to the back, plate and mugs in hand.

Steve sat a few moments after she’d disappeared, feeling a little at a loss. He had about an hour to kill and wasn’t sure what he should be doing. Pastry in hand, he headed to his room, wondering if he needed to bring anything to dinner tonight. Beer? Wine? He wasn’t sure if Sherri drank. He got into his room, mind on dinner, and tripped over a pair of jeans. Were those dirty? He stared at them, unable to remember when he’d worn them. He looked around, startled by how messy the room was. It made the room feel small and close (well, smaller than it already was). He had never been a neat freak but he appreciated a tidy living space. He picked up the clothes strewn around the room, thinking he’d need to wash them soon. Then he had a moment of panic, wondering how he was supposed to wash them. Where would he find a washer and dryer? He’d have to ask Sherri. He looked around for something to put the pile of dirty clothes in and came up with nothing, so he dropped them in the chair by the window. Then he went to the counter and sink outside the bathroom and straightened up the few items there – hair products, mostly, some underwear and socks he’d missed on the floor.

Steve surveyed the room, hands on hips, feeling a little pleasure well up in him, then glanced at the clock. All that cleaning had taken ten whole minutes. His smile melted off his face.

“What the hell?” he whispered to himself.

He decided to take a shower. He took his time, leisurely washing his hair, letting the conditioner sit a little longer than usual, trying to relax and unwind; then he panicked that maybe he’d taken too long, and that Sherri was knocking on the door and he couldn’t hear her and she was gonna leave without him.

Steve stuck his head out of the shower, trying to listen for distant knocks; he even opened the bathroom door (the room was very small), focusing closely, but he didn’t hear anything. That didn’t mean she hadn’t already left. He hurriedly rinsed his hair, washed his face and body quickly (and less than thoroughly), and tripped out of the tub, pulling the curtain off a few rungs. He ran out of the bathroom wrapping a towel around his waist, eyes shooting to the clock-radio on the bed side table. 4:30. He hadn’t even been in the shower for ten minutes, Sherri wouldn’t been showing up for another half an hour.

“Harrington, seriously, get a god damn grip, man.” Steve shook his head out, then went to the drawers to find some clean clothes. Oh. Damn. He did need to do some laundry. He put on his last pair of clean boxers (guess he’d be skipping the shower in the morning), the jeans he’d been wearing earlier, and a (different) long-sleeved polo. He reapplied antiperspirant and spritzed some cologne before styling his hair.

A knock came at the door. The clock said 5:05. Steve’s brow scrunched.

“What?!” It did not take him over half an hour to get ready. Did it? The knock came again.

“Coming!” He grabbed his wallet and keys and opened the door, Sherri waiting on the other side with a tote bag, a colorful, nubby looking cardigan on he hadn’t noticed earlier. He smiled at her.

“Come on then, Steven. I’m starving.”

He checked that he had the room key before closing the door behind him and following her out into the evening.

[starlightkun]

buzzer beater ❧ teaser [sungchan]

❧ word count: 1028 | full fic: 22.0k ❧ warnings: just cursing for the teaser, everything i know about hockey is from internet research for this fic i’m sorry for any inaccuracies i tried not to put in a lot of specifics lmao ❧ genre: fluff, gets quite suggestive (a heavy makeout scene/near sex scene) but no actual smut, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), halloween-themed at the beginning, sungchan’s not a frat boy but he’s like... a frat boy by association ❧ extra info: the ages/relative ages of the members in here are whatever i want them to be, don’t read into it too much. this is a very usamerican-centric take on a college au (greek life, collegiate sports, etc.) btw. also i call kunhang ‘hendery’ in here like it’s his government name for a one-line gag bc i think i’m hilarious (and i am <;3) the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i also have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not a spokesperson for chronic migraines (lol) and am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines and chronic illness, as we are all different. but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds!! ❧ estimate release: saturday, october 14, 2023 2:00 p.m. eastern time

“Anyway, your turn,” you tapped his knee with your book before putting it back in your bag.

“For what?”

“To expand my horizons of you. All I know about you is that you’re the hockey captain, and a Bio major who took a gothic fiction class one time like three years ago. Show me you’re a multifaceted individual, too.”

“Uhm, that’s about it.”

“Oh come on, Sungchan.”

“No really, if I’m not on the ice, I’m in class; if I’m not in class, I’m with my team; and if I’m not with my team, I’m studying.”

“You’re here, right now,” you pointed out. “Last I checked I’m not on your hockey team, and we’re not studying. You have to do one thing that’s not for school or hockey. My thing was just watching Pacific Rim this one time, remember?”

“Alright…” he paused to think, fingers tapping along his thighs. “I used to play the piano.”

“Past tense, but I’ll accept it. When did you stop?”

“High school? Around when piano lessons and hockey practice started conflicting.”

“And you chose hockey?” You asked, hoping it didn’t sound judgmental. You really were just curious, trying to understand him.

“Actually, the choice was made for me.” He held his right hand out in front of you, and it was then that you saw his pinky finger was unnaturally crooked as he pointed to the digit. “I broke it in a game without even realizing it. Bruises and stiffness sometimes are normal so me and my parents didn’t know anything was up until weeks later when I was fucking up all the notes at my piano lessons because it still hurt. By the time I finally saw a doctor and got a splint on it, it set up wrong. All dexterity for piano out the window. Hockey on the other hand… guys have done a lot more with a lot less.”

You couldn’t help but curiously run a gentle fingertip over the crook in his pinky. “Does it hurt at all? Now?”

“Not really.” He went to bend and flex the fingers of his right hand, and you saw how the fifth finger didn’t curl up as much as the others. “It’s just a lot stiffer. Doesn’t bother me all that much.”

He brought his left hand up and wiggled the fingers on that hand. “Besides, I’m a lefty anyway.”

“So—apologies if this sounds like a stupid question to you, I don’t know anything about hockey—are there like, different hockey sticks for left-handed and right-handed players?”

Sungchan immediately broke into snickers, and you set down your mug to cross your arms over your chest indignantly.

“Hey, I didn’t laugh at you for not knowing what death of the author was—”

“I wasn’t making fun of you, I’m sorry,” he covered his mouth. “That was just… too cute. Uhm yes, there are lefty and righty sticks.”

You had to bite down your bottom lip to not smile at him calling you cute, and instead keep up your ruse of being offended. “I feel patronized.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was still a hint of a giggle in his tone, and you felt your self-righteous façade slip away as he continued, “You should come to a game, then, if you really want to broaden your horizons. The season just started. First home game is this Thursday, actually. 7:00 p.m. and students get free admission with your student ID.”

“Thursday?”

“Fridays are for basketball, Saturdays are for football.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You don’t go to those games either, do you?”

“Oh no, did I make it obvious?” You asked sarcastically.

“A bit,” Sungchan jested back.

Outside the window visible past Sungchan, the rain had let up a few minutes ago, and you briefly glanced over at your laptop for the time. Shit, your next alarm was going to be going off soon. If you left now, you should be home at roughly the right time for your next dose.

Clicking your tongue, you started packing up your things, “Well, looks like the rain’s finally let up enough to allow me safe passage. That’s my cue.”

“Oh.” The hockey player with you looked over his shoulder at the newly sunny day outside before turning back to watch you put your things away.

“Are you heading out too?” You nodded to his empty cup.

“I’ve uh, got some homework to do.”

“Guess this is where we part ways then.”

“Um, you didn’t say if you were going. To the game.”

You tucked your chin to your chest to hide your smitten smile as you put your laptop in your bag. Typically just asking for the details would’ve been taken for a yes, but Sungchan wanted extra confirmation. This boy wasn’t good for your heart, truly.

Turning back to him, you gave him a firm and nearly business-like nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

A bright grin lit up his features. “Okay! Great! Uhm, feel free to bring some friends, I know just sitting in the stands by yourself might be lonely.”

“I’ll see if I can drag somebody else out. It’ll be a tall order, though. Literature majors, you know, we prefer our Shakesperean poetry readings.”

“Oh, well—”

“I’m kidding,” you laughed and stood then, slinging your tote onto your shoulder. “Honestly, have you seen Chenle at a rager? Boy can drink twice his body weight I swear. He shouldn’t, but he can.”

Before you could reach for your cup and saucer to buss your place, the hockey captain spoke up, “I’ll take care of your mug, don’t worry.”

“Oh, thanks, Sungchan! I’ll see you Thursday then.”

“Bye…” Sungchan trailed off, watching the door long after it had closed behind you.

He didn’t actually have any homework to do, and scrolled on his phone for a few minutes to make sure you were out of the area before leaving himself. He grabbed his long-empty plastic cup and your mug. His went in the trash, and as he went to put yours up with the other dishes and trays, his eyes were caught by the iridescent glitters left behind on the rim by your lip gloss.

⤷ blog masterlist

[liamgallaghermpreg]

happy wincest wednesday!! do you have a few stanford era headcanons about sam and/or dean?

Happy wincest wednesday!! Ooooh good one. I’ve got a couple, not necessarily wincest related but I’ll throw a couple of those in too.

Sam:

- Gets really into late 90s/early 00s alt. I think this probably starts in high school (listen, Nine Inch Nails’ The Fragile coming out when he’s 16 would change him), but once he’s away from his brother and fathers’ music taste he really develops his own. And because we know he keeps to himself a lot in college, afraid to really let people get to know him, I can sooo see him alone in his dorm with the portable CD player he saved up to buy with work-study money just listening to Hole and Nirvana and RHCP and Smashing Pumpkins and Soundgarden and stuff lol

- I know a lot of people HC that Sam experiments with guys during his time at college but I don’t know that he does…even in California, 2001-2005 was a pretty rough time to be out, and I honestly mostly picture him jerking off to gay porn more than I do him having a quasi-steady sex life with guys. I tend to also see Sam as having a preference toward women. However I DO think he got in at least one gay sex experience at a bar one night after amicably beating the guy in darts, and when he got home he spent all night wondering if Dean’s also had experiences with guys (he has) and he never stops to think about the fact that he is like, really intensely thinking about his brother’s sex life lol

- Jess is the only one of his friends (and later girlfriend, obv) he tells about Dean. He lets the rest of his friends think he’s an only child, military brat, bad relationship with his father. Brady of course knows he’s got a brother and sometimes tries to wheedle this out of Sam, who’s pretty tight-lipped about his family. Some of his acquaintances think he’s a cult escapee. Jess asks why Sam doesn’t talk to Dean anymore and he says “I just can’t” and never elaborates

Dean:

- We know Dean and John go to check on Sam at Stanford sometimes, but one night after John goes back to the motel Dean continues to tail Sam. Even gets kind of angry that Sam hasn’t picked up on Dean following him – his reflexes have gotten bad. Really seriously considers revealing himself, and even follows Sam all the way to a bar or party. Then he sees Sam meet up with Jess, give her a kiss, have a real smile on his face, and he turns and walks away. He’s really angry, like, way more angry than he has a right to be, doesn’t think about why, goes to a dive bar and picks up a guy, specifically, to fuck

- Whereas sexual stuff with John used to be more of a rarity, it becomes really regular once Sam is gone. I don’t read this as an equal relationship; I think Dean thinks he has some sort of power and has consented to it, but really he’s not in a position to say no. Whether John meant to or not, he groomed Dean, and once Sam is gone there’s no reason to hide

- Similar to the Jess & Sam situation, Cassie is the only person Dean tells about Sam. Not that he makes a habit of bringing up his family to people he sleeps with at all – not that he makes a habit of having relationships in general – but stuff comes up in pillow talk sometimes. “Just me and my dad,” he’ll always say. He doesn’t want to share Sam with these people, they don’t mean anything anyway. But Cassie means something, so it doesn’t feel so bad to share Sam with her. It doesn’t work out, and he stops saying anything about his family to anyone. Always just claims to be on his own; lost his family young

[meat-wentz]

did. did other people actually do that sort of thing as teenagers? cause tbh most of my teenage nights were spent pretty quietly in my bedroom. where did y'all find people to kiss cause I never had access to them 😣

i had the distinct pleasure and nightmare of growing up with 00’s emo drama kids who raved a lot which is a deadly combo when it comes to cuddling and making out and being bisexual. they were an extremely sexually liberated group of people who experimented with each other because it felt like a very safe insular group, but also at the cost of hella drama all the time constantly (i will also hand it over to the band kids that band was like this but 100x more sex and 1000x more dramatic). we used to play lap tag which is where you sit in a circle with pairs of two (one sitting between the other one’s legs) and one single person who would call out two people’s names and those two people would try to get to the single person first while the person they’re paired up with wrestled them to prevent them from getting there, it was a good way to get out a lot of sexual frustration and also deal with any interpersonal drama because you could just wrestle your fucking friends and hold them down to the ground while you both panted and grunted in each other’s faces.

I WILL SAY i was a very sheltered kid with really strict parents (they loosened up a lot when i turned 16) so i did a lot of observing rather than participating (that kiss with my friend’s sister was, like, my first and only kiss in high school), it really took me until the first year of college to finally make out and hook up with friends, but prior to that did make quite a few sex pacts with friends of which only one happened (can’t take my eyes off you played on the radio while we were in the car and we were like OOPS THAT’S THE SONG WE CHOSE). i was a very horny teenager and from 16 until i lost my virginity i had “lose virginity” as my one and only new years resolution every year so do not worry i spent a whole lot of time looking for kissies and not getting kissies as a teenager, i was so desperate for kissies in fact that i was like PLEASE MAKE SEX PACTS WITH ME PLEASE I NEED THIS.

[lizziestudieshistory]

hi! how do you recommend i should prepare myself for college? im currently in the final year of high school. in what capacity would i need to change myself for college? i plan on developing habits this year which can help me in college. your suggestions will be helpful.

Hi, sorry for taking a while to respond, I've been ill all week and wasn't sure what I wanted to say. I was partly uncertain because I think you are from the US? (Correct me if I'm wrong!) And your college experience is very different from university here in the UK. However, there are a few universal tips I can give for anyone leaving compulsory education and entering into higher education for the first time.

Firstly, don't think about this as changing yourself! It's just another step and you will naturally fall into it. Everything I THOUGHT university would be like ended up being a lot of nonsense. You'll naturally fall into your working rhythm and find your place wherever you end up going! Be your authentic self and you'll have a blast. Seriously, going to university should be the best thing you do for yourself, otherwise it's not worth it!

Secondly, habits/learning tips. This is an easier one to give advice for, but it will probably feel incredibly vague right now:

Learn to how to skim and scan texts when reading (they are different!). Start practicing now and you'll thank yourself during your first term! You rarely need to read a whole text, so learn how to quickly and efficiently find what you need by learning how to find key words and arguments. Make skimming and scanning your first instinct when reading academically. It's hard and you'll find yourself slipping into reading the whole book/article a lot to start with, but I promise you it will save you A LOT of time and frustration.

Start developing a good routine for you to study. Learn when, where, and how you're most productive and make this a routine. I've learnt that I CAN'T concentrate properly in the afternoon, my brain gives up! But it took me YEARS to internalise this and I wasted so many hours trying to work in the early afternoon. Now I structure my study days around when I work best (seriously I get up at 5:30 so I can be working between 6:00 and 11:30, then have the afternoon off before doing a couple of hours around 8:30 at night) it can be irritating but I have a good study/life balance now AND I'm more productive!

Experiment with note taking styles. I've gone through SO many different systems, platforms, and techniques for note taking. It took me a while to work out that I need to take linear, bullet pointed notes BY HAND to remember information. I used to type everything and it went in one ear and out the other. Now I take notes by hand and it's been revolutionary.

Start everything EARLY. Don't let yourself be that person pulling an all nighter to get an assignment in on time. Start early, give yourself time to reflect on what you're doing, and finish a couple of days before the deadline. This way you have a buffer in case something goes wrong. I was never the person working up until the last minute (I'm too anxious to do that to myself) but I watched friends have breakdowns because they didn't start early enough.

Learn to draft anything you'll submit for formal assessment. Don't be the idiot who writes an essay and submits it without checking it... It makes you look stupid and you'll lose marks. Take the time to do a second and third draft, your grades will thank you. And proofread (I say having not proofread ANYTHING on this blog...)

Get out of the habit of thinking I don't want to go to X lesson/class. You might think it's harmless now, but as soon as you leave compulsory education and don't HAVE to go to that dreaded class you won't. Then you start skipping lectures, fall behind, and risk failing. Again, I watched too many people do this...

Practice self-discipline and motivation. Right now you HAVE to work on things, so you do. When the external motivators go away all you're left with is your own drive. For some people (me) this was GREAT because I hated performing to school systems. However, for others they can crumble without a teacher encouraging you to work... Learn to motivate yourself. If you take ANYTHING from this list then work on this one, seriously it'll be a life saver!

Honestly, the rest will come with time. The biggest thing you can do is work out what kind of learner you are, how do you LIKE to learn when away from the routines of school. When, where, and how do you like to learn? Practice notetaking and reading skills. Otherwise, the rest will depend on what sort of college/uni you end up at and what course you're taking.

The final thing I want to say is not really a tip, but something I think EVERYONE on the cusp of going into higher education should hear. Find out why you want to learn. Higher education is a big investment. It's years of your life and A LOT of money (especially in the UK and US with tuition fees and living expenses!) It's a lot of time, energy, and resources to throw into something if you're only doing it because it's expected of you or you don't know what else to do with your life.

So take some time to think about WHY you want to learn. What is it about your specialism that makes you love it? Why is it your passion?

I live and breathe history because I can't face living without it. For me it's the discipline where I really get to understand humanity, explore what makes us "tick". I feel connected with people through history. I'm fascinated by, and a little bit in love with, humans. I don't necessarily like speaking to people! But I love trying to find out who we are through what our history says about us. Fundamentally, humanity is both terrible and beautiful! And through history I get to see the best, worst, and crucially the most mundane of human existence... And it's in that mundane space where I find myself happiest because that's who we are. It's why I study popular religion, not high Church movements... But it is the curiosity about people that drives me to learn more. THAT'S why I study, THAT is why I bothered to drag myself out of bed a half 5 on a freezing January morning in 2018 to get to an 8:30 lecture and listen to a truly MAD man tell me about 17th century English preaching styles (real story, I loved that lecturer deeply... I was the only person at that lecture and it is the reason I am the historian I am today, I have so much respect for him and I am STILL inspired by what I heard that morning!)

Anyway... Find your reason to keep going with your studies, even when it seems pointless and you'd much rather give up. I'm not saying it has to be a grand, abstract desire to understand humanity - I'm a pretentious humanities student who is far too fond of religion. Your reason could be anything, a dream job, a desire to "get out" of a situation, academic brilliance, spite! Seriously, it doesn't matter! As long as it gives you a purpose and drive to learn. Without that reason you'll be wasting your time.

So, before you go, have a think about why you're going to university at all and make sure it's strong enough to get you out of bed ridiculously early on a freezing January morning. That way you won't miss the most inspiring moment of your life. Or you'll get a fantastic degree. That's also nice 😉

[dabirkads]

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

BY: MAGLUCOT, LOUIE MARIE (GE 5 9:00-10:30 TTH)

Transitioning from high school to college is significant shift. I encountered a new environment, increased independence, and a different academic structure. I embrace these changes with an open mind. It’s perfectly normal to feel overwhelmed at first. One of the key aspects of college life is managing my time effectively. Unlike high school, college offers a more flexible schedule. Create a routine that balances my academic responsibilities, social activities, and personal time. Utilize planners, calendars, or apps to keep track of assignments, exams, and social events. Engaging in campus activities is a great way to meet new people and enhance my college experience. Join clubs, organizations, or sports teams that align with my interests. Not only does this help in building friendships, but it also enriches my resume and develops my skills outside the classroom.

Maintaining my physical and mental health is crucial. College can be stressful, so I ensure getting enough sleep, eating nutritious meals, and exercising regularly. Forming connections with professors can significantly impact my academic journey. Attend office hours, engage in class discussions, and seek feedback on my work. Building these relationships can lead to valuable mentorship, research opportunities, and strong letters of recommendation for future endeavors. College coursework can be demanding. It’s essential to find a study method that works best for me. Experiment with different techniques such as group study sessions, flashcards, or outlining notes.

For many students, college is the first time managing finances independently. I created a budget to track my expenses and avoid unnecessary debt. Look for student discounts, consider part-time jobs, and be mindful of my spending. Learning to manage my finances early will benefit throughout and beyond my college years. College is a time to explore new interests and discover who I am. These experiences broaden my horizons, helped me develop new skills, and may even influence my career path. While it’s essential to immerse myself in college life, staying connected with family and old friends provides a support system. Regularly update them about my experiences, seek their advice, and share my milestones. They can offer invaluable support and encouragement during challenging times.

My first year of college is just the beginning of an incredible journey. It’s a time filled with opportunities for growth, learning, and self-discovery. Embrace the changes, stay proactive, and enjoy every moment. With the right mindset and strategies, I can make my freshman year a memorable and successful experience. Welcome to college life!

[backstage-bucknell]

Come See Bucknell Theatre’s Next Mainstage Production!

By: Katie Schadler and Abby Campion

God of Carnage

By Yasmina Reza

Translated by Christopher Hampton

Friday, Saturday & Monday

Feb. 23, 24 & 26, 7:30 p.m.

Sunday, Feb. 25, 2:00 p.m. 

Tustin Studio Theatre

$7/$12 general admission

Content Advisory: God of Carnage features language related to race, sexuality, and ability that is commonly identified as violent or pejorative. The play is recommended for mature audiences.

Buy your tickets here!

On Gbenga Akinnagbe’s Luncheon Talk

By Sophia Spears

On Monday January 22nd, I joined a handful of students to have a conversation with actor, writer, and producer, Gbenga Akinnagbe. The room was lightly humming with conversation before Dustyn Martincich, from the Theatre Department, prompted Gbenga with the question: “Tell us about your undergraduate experience at Bucknell.” His face lit up, and he smiled from ear to ear. “I was not supposed to be here,” was how he began. 

Gbenga started wrestling during his junior year of high school, and thought it was a fluke that Bucknell offered him a position on their varsity wrestling team. No one at home had expected him to stay at Bucknell, but he eventually graduated with a Bachelor's degree in Political Science. Shockingly, Gbenga was not involved in theater before or during his time in college. He did not take an acting class or participate in any school production. In fact, his first job outside of college was working for the Federal government!

So how did he get into acting? Well, one day a colleague invited him to go see a play. Gbenga asked, out of curiosity, “how does a person become an actor?” To which his colleague replied with a scoff, saying that Gbenga was not capable of doing such a career. This ignited his competitive nature. Taking it as a challenge, he auditioned for a community theater in DC. After landing a role, and performing in front of an audience for the first time, he was hooked. 

He did not use his lack of acting experience as an excuse not to try. Instead, he overcame adversity by asking questions, seeking help, and following the advice of fellow actors. This included constantly reading plays, taking every opportunity to see live theater, and enrolling himself in acting classes. Everyday he “put himself out there,” by auditioning for everything that came his way. Little did he know that he was arming himself with the tools he needed to succeed in the industry.  

Today, Gbenga’s career spans over 20 years. He has been cast in two HBO series, The Wire and The Deuce and continues to perform in and write for various theater productions. When he ended his story and as students asked him a million questions, my key takeaway was this: What you study as an undergraduate does not determine your occupational fate. The world is open, so long as you are brave enough to be curious and say yes to opportunities. Additionally, despite his accolades, Gbenga was never chasing awards and fame. Instead, he strived for his own definition of success, which is to always do good work. First, work with integrity and do your best; then, the rest will follow.   

As a senior in the class of ’24, I often worry about my future outside of Bucknell. I sometimes ask myself: “Did I choose the right major? Did I do enough with my time here? Am I prepared for the ‘real’ world?” Gbenga’s story is about a student who was simply figuring it out, one day at a time. There was no way he could have predicted where his life would go. And now, he feels he is successful and in a good place. Overall, I was inspired, uplifted and comforted. I am so grateful to have heard his story, and I am so excited to see what comes next. 

T. Patrick Halley: “Make A Big Choice.”

By: Abby Campion

T. Patrick Halley, or T. Pat to his friends at Bucknell, is a New-York based actor and Bucknell grad. Having been apart of two professional productions of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, Patrick was thrilled to hear of Bucknell Theatre’s upcoming Spelling Bee auditions, growing eager to offer advice to the theatre students at his alma mater. In addition to Spelling Bee, Patrick has also been seen in several other Off-Broadway productions including In Love and Warcraft, Good People, The Taming of The Shrew, and The Bomb-Itty of Errors. 

On Saturday, January 20th, Bucknell students had the privilege of zooming in with Patrick as he shared his best tips on auditioning in the industry, with an added emphasis on auditioning for Spelling Bee. Patrick’s vast knowledge of the realm of musical theatre and beyond shone through during his deep-dive into “unpacking the text.” He placed an added importance on knowing “who you’re talking to,” and fully understanding that “you belong in the room.” When discussing how to approach Spelling Bee, our biggest takeaway from Patrick was to “make a big choice.” When it comes to Spelling Bee, a whacky musical comedy featuring an eclectic group of sixth-graders, everything goes. There are no structural barriers for portraying zany ten-year-olds, and Patrick made sure to strongly convey this. 

Patrick’s kindness and wisdom was further exemplified in the 20-minute individualized sessions that he offered to students as a chance to hone their craft. Whether students went in with their chosen monologue/song for their Spelling Bee audition or simply to receive general feedback, there was a sweeping consensus about Patrick. He was attentive, patient, kind, and tremendously helpful. First-year student Gabriella Cappelloni raved about Patrick, saying that he truly made her feel comfortable about her craft. “He gave me great constructive criticism . . . I truly saw my pieces grow in the thirty minutes that I spent with him.” Further commenting on Patrick’s teachings, Gabriella emphasized how Patrick had a “great balance of relating to students as he was a student himself, while also giving his professional experience working in the industry.” Gabriella will be performing as Logainne “Schwartzy” in Spelling Bee. 

I, myself, was able to secure a slot, and I went in with my monologue. After asking me to perform it an initial time, Patrick and I had a conversation about who it was I was talking to. He also directed me to more opportunities within the monologue for physical comedy, and recommended that I expand on my characterization. He challenged me to look beyond the scope of what I had practiced, and, of course, “make a big choice.” I learned from Patrick that there’s an infinite amount of space for creativity, and so, we should use it. 

Patrick’s guidance and genuine desire to see us succeed was evident in his Audition Workshop. We hope Patrick will return to Bucknell for a day and watch our production of Spelling Bee. Amidst his workshop, Patrick spoke fondly of his Bucknell theatre days, reminiscing about learning monologue tips from Bob Gainer and recalling his memories in Harvey. See The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee April 12-15 in the Harvey Powers Theatre.

KCACTF Finalist Kieran Calderwood: 

More Than a Contest 

By Kieran Calderwood

At noon last Wednesday, I arrived in Pittsburgh with members of the Bucknell theater department for the KCAC theater festival. That night we all watched a festival play, at the end of which the semifinalists for the Irene Ryan acting competition would be announced.

Applause rang out through the auditorium for the play’s cast. Then a theater professor named Matt Rifa, who had a luxuriant beard, walked onstage. First he told us that one hundred and ninety-eight students had submitted monologues to the first round, and that only thirty-two of them would make it to the next round. (I competed last year and hadn’t made it to the next round, so I wasn't expecting anything.) He then read the semi finalists' names aloud to the anxious theater. When each name was called, a small explosion of excitement went off around the theater full of competitors and their friends. It was sweet. I thought to myself,  Man, I wish my name was called. That would be wild. Then, to my shock, after about twenty-five names, Professor Rifa said “Kieran Calderwood.” Almost immediately my classmates were yelling and slapping my back—I was experiencing one of those explosions first-hand, and it was awesome. I was frozen in shock and excitement and soon, for another reason. As the last few names were announced, I realized that I would have a lot of work to do the next day. Rather than attend workshops with my friends, I was going to have to compete. The next day, the semifinalists had to present a monologue and a scene with a partner from their school.

When I got back to our hotel that night, my scene partner Paige and I ran our scene over and over while our wonderful professor, Anjalee Hutchinson, gave us feedback. After about an hour, around midnight, we decided that the scene was ready to present.

Nevertheless, before the competition the next day, I was very nervous. My armpits were sweating, and there was a lump in my throat. I’m not a theatre major. I hadn’t acted in front of an audience in seven months. Now I was supposed to compete in front of judges and a room full of great actors? Doubt was creeping in, and as I went onstage to introduce myself before performing, I fell apart. “Hi, my name is Kieran Calderwood and this is my wonderful scene partner, Paige Gilmartin. Today I’ll be performing a monologue from…” What was the name? “Uhh…” You look stupid. Say the name! “...from, frickin’...I’m sorry. I’m really nervous.” Then Paige, standing next to me, whispered “Fat Pig.” Fortunately that wasn’t an insult, but rather the name of the Neil LaBute play that my monologue was from. Paige’s help snapped me back into focus. I finished the introduction, took a breath, and began the monologue I had read hundreds of times. 

Three minutes later, Paige and I had finished our scene, and we were walking out of the theater to the sound of applause. We did it. Kind of. The slate was bad, but they weren’t supposed to judge the slate. It was a toss-up, but I felt good about my performance, really good.

Fast-forward to that night: I was sitting in a room with the other competitors. Anjalee and a few students from Bucknell were with me, waiting to hear the finalists’ names announced. As names were read, I slowly accepted that there were a lot of very good actors here and—“Kieran Calderwood.” HUH? I turned to Anjalee and saw that she had a smile that matched mine. All of a sudden, I was getting hugs from my friends and laughing semi-hysterically. Paige came over to me and said, “Looks like we’ve gotta do that again. Go practice your slate.”

Looks like I’ve got another two busy days. The finals were on Saturday, which gave me and Paige Friday to work on our scene. The finals had the addition of another monologue. I would have to present a monologue from Electra, a monologue from Fat Pig, and a scene with Paige from As You Like It. I would have six minutes to perform all three back-to-back.

I workshopped the Electra monologue for hours on Friday, aiming to give vulnerability to Orestes, the Greek hero. I found beats within the scene, as many beats as I could. I changed the blocking from static kneeling the entire time to continuous movement. Once it was ready, I went to bed.

I went to the gym before my Saturday performance to help calm my nerves and blow off some energy. It helped. I was barely able to eat afterward—my stomach felt sick. The nerves were coming back. As I sat in a stairwell backstage alongside Paige and the other waiting competitors, I felt the lump in my throat return.  But then, finally, I was hit by a bigger perspective. This is theatre, man. You’re performing a PLAY. You should be excited. You’ve got nothing to lose. You’re ready. Have fun with it! 

These thoughts, along with encouragement from Paige, brought me out of my head. I loosened up a bit. I woke up. As I was about to go onstage, I realized my shoe was untied. Normally I don’t put effort into the tying of my shoes. But in that moment, I got on one knee and tied my shoe well, confidently. I switched knees and re-tied the other shoe, which had also been poorly tied. I walked out onstage with my well-tied shoes and with purpose. 

The slate went well. The monologues flowed. The scene was great. I walked off to more applause than in the semifinals. I gave Paige a big hug offstage and sat down with a realization that meant more than any contest or judge could mean: That was the best acting I’ve ever done. 

Awards, Events, & Bucknell Rep at KCACTF

By: Joselyn Busato 

This past week, several students in the Bucknell Theatre Department attended the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival (KCACTF) in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Here, the students competed in acting, playwriting, and directing competitions; attended workshops led by professionals; performed in staged one-act and ten-minute plays; and were given the opportunity to watch performances by neighboring colleges. Several Bucknellians had notable achievements at this year’s festival, with two bringing home awards.

Four students were nominated by Kennedy Center respondents to compete in the Irene Ryans Acting Competition (Reid Fournier ’24, Kieran Calderwood ’24, Tseday Robinson ’24, and Madison Buckley ’24), and Zoe Kemp ’24 self-nominated with the support of acting program faculty advisor Anjalee Hutchinson. Students had to prepare two monologues and a scene with a partner to showcase their skills for judges. Of these five, Kieran Calderwood advanced to the semifinal and final rounds, alongside his scene partner Paige Gilmartin (’26). Kieran is the first to have advanced to the final round from Bucknell in many years. Two students participated in the Musical Theatre Intensive Competition, in which they sent self-tapes performing an excerpt of a musical theatre song. These students were Harper Dick (’25) and Jaela Rivera (’27). Two other students participated in the directing competition (Ariel Urich ’25 and Caroline Pritchard ’26). These students were given the challenge of casting and directing 10-minute or one-act plays written by students. These plays were performed as staged readings at a showcase. Two Bucknell students, Maya Gurung (’26) and Tseday Robinson (’24) were cast and performed in these staged readings. Maya Gurung went on to receive an award for her performance in a one-act play, highlighting her chemistry with her fellow cast members. One of the plays performed was submitted by a Bucknell student, Joselyn Busato (’24). Her 10-minute play “Cytokinesis” was selected to be performed at the festival and then was chosen as one of two regional finalists for the Region 2 festival. Joselyn’s play has the chance to be selected among other finalists across the country to move on to the national competition at the Kennedy Center in Washington D.C. The first and second place recipients moving on to the national conference will be announced in March.

While the students representing Bucknell were involved in many different facets of the conference, they all could agree on how enjoyable it was immersing themselves in the world of theatre, as well as cheering on their peers in their accomplishments.

The Joy of Arts Merit Weekend

By: Zoe Fleury

Arts Merit Weekend is the reason I’m at Bucknell. It was February of last year and I had no idea where I was going to go to college. I had just gotten rejected from my early decision and stupidly didn’t have a plan after that. I came to Bucknell for a tour in January and loved it but wasn’t completely sure. Luckily, my tour guide was Alice Jackins, who is extremely involved in theatre at Bucknell. She told me I should sign up for Arts Merit Weekend and after a few emails, I was on the list. 

Arts Merit Weekend consists of a welcome ceremony, an audition, and a closing. The purpose of it is to audition for the opportunity to be an Arts Merit Scholar here at Bucknell. What I didn’t know was that it would be so much more than an audition. I was so nervous going into it, but looking back, all my fears were unfounded. I arrived and instantly, a bunch of people greeted me and started talking to me, they all seemed so happy to be there. My group (the theatre and dance auditionees) went to Harvey Powers Theater for pizza. There was this crazy man in a kilt named Hutch serving everyone and trying to learn everyone’s names while the current Merit Scholars mingled with us high-schoolers. I went up to get some pizza and Hutch asked for my name. I told him it was Zoe and he yelled “FLEURY!!!” I couldn’t believe he remembered my last name from our emails, and I felt really special and disarmed at that moment. 

I learned so much in that short hour and a half, both about Bucknell and about what I wanted. The people I met were so warm and kind to me. They really seemed like they wanted me there. The next day was audition day, and I was scared shitless. To be completely frank, I don’t remember much about the audition itself but rather waiting in the Black Box Theater in Tustin for my turn. There were two auditionees other than myself and some current merits waited with us while the others went. 

I had never had so much fun right before an audition. Just chatting with these amazing people, exchanging stories and laughs, is how I knew this was the place for me. Looking back, it’s crazy to me that those people waiting with me would become my friends, and the crazy man in the kilt one of my greatest mentors. Being a merit at Bucknell, I’ve been in two shows, both the quintessential First Year Show and the fall mainstage Men on Boats. I’ve also had the opportunity to do an audition workshop with Bucknell alum, Patrick Henry, who taught me incredible strategies. Arts Merit Weekend shaped my entire college application experience, and being a merit at Bucknell is the best outcome I could’ve asked for.

Congratulations to Bucknell Theatre’s Professor Bryan Vandevender for receiving tenure!

[aworldofmymaking]

"A GLIMPSE OF MY LIFE"

Dela Cruz, Jaed Kimberly R.

Section I. (9:00-10:30)

Hello , my name is Jaed Kimberly R. Dela Cruz, a college student living a simple and fulfilling life in the province. I attend a local university, pursuing BSBA (Batchelor of Science Business Administration). Let's take a glimpse of a day in my life . Every morning, I wake up to do chores and simple get ready for school , I enjoy the  tranquility of my surroundings , with the fresh air filling the room . After getting ready, I wait for a pedicab and head to school which is just a few kilometers away. In college,  I like to show my dedication and enthusiasm for my studies. I often attend lectures, actively participate in discussions, and seeks guidance from the professors. I appreciate the personal attention that I receive in the close-knit academic community, where everyone knows each other.

On this part of the blog , I will share snippets of my love life experience, I want to give you a glimpse into my relationship with an amazing high school boy who has made my heart skip a beat. Join me on this rollercoaster ride of emotions as I recount a typical day in our lives.During the time Im getting ready for school , I usually scroll through my messages and see messages from my boyfriend instantly brightening my day.

He's always there to make me smile, even before the day begins. I eagerly reply, expressing my excitement to see him at school.Walking around the campus , I spot my boyfriend in his classroom ,the sight of his familiar face fills me with warmth.We exchange greetings and usually walk together, stealing glances and sharing secret smiles. Throughout the day, we find stolen moments to be together, whether it's passing notes or sharing a quick lunch break.

After school, we often indulge in our shared interests and hobbies. One of our favorite activities is exploring the nearby park, where we can escape the pressures of school and simply be ourselves. We walk hand in hand, talking about everything and anything, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company. These moments help us grow closer, discovering new facets of our personalities and building a stronger connection.

Throughout my college year, I wasn't at my best not until I got to fit in to a perfect group that would have the same energy I have in things. They made me feel belong and they'd care for me like a family. Fitting in before wasn't my forte, I tend to walk out of the room and go home immediately, but not that I met these people.

During my breaks, I often gather with my group of friends. We enjoy chatting, sharing laughs, and exploring the campus. We often organize study sessions together, helping each other prepare for exams and assignments. I value these friendships as they provide support and companionship.

We have fun even we are at our stress peak, we still find time to have fun and not be stressful because it'll happen once only. I have no words to express but they definitely took the best out of me. During my  breaks, I often gather with my group of friends. We enjoy chatting, sharing laughs, and exploring the campus. We often organize study sessions together, helping each other prepare for exams and assignments. I value these friendships as they provide support and companionship.

At the end of the day, the people I go to are my Family. They have shaped me to who I am today, it has been tough after loosing my mom to cancer, but it gave me courage and made me independent and made me stronger than I am before. After everything, they are the people who I go home to. I love my family to the fullest, because I was with them from the start until now.

Thank you.

[raspberryconverse]

Yesterday's Heartstopper Patreon page (1431) really got me thinking.

If you're a patron, you know what I'm talking about, but if you're not, I think the best way to mention it without completely giving things away (especially since that's not fair to those who paid for the updates) is just to mention what the question was: "Does that count?"

It kinda hit me like a ton of bricks.

This is going to be a long story and get very personal, so if you really don't care to hear about a stranger's thoughts on sexuality, virginity and other experiences, feel free to scroll on by.

If you don't know much about me, the key details I'm in my late 30s, bisexual and recently (5/6/22) married to a gender fluid person. Much like Nick Nelson, I just assumed I was straight for my entire childhood and adolescence. I wasn't completely oblivious to other sexual orientations. My best friend in high school was very gay (like my mom could tell from across the street when we were 13). I just knew I liked boys and didn't really think much about it until I met (as she was known on my early 00's Blogger) Purple Haired Sarah in my photography class my senior year of high school. She was very cool in my book (I mean, purple hair!), though I hung out with mostly the punk/goth kids (fun fact: my main group of friends were actually a year younger than me, but we met in math class because they were in the advanced track and I was in the regular track. Most of them were pretty smart, but just had fun colored hair and lots of safety pins and shopped at thrift stores and Hot Topic). It didn't occur to me that I had feelings for her until I started having steamy dreams about her.

I "lost my virginity" (I'm using quotes because the more I think about this, the more I like the idea that virginity is a bullshit social construct) when I was 17. I wasn't particularly in love with the guy, though we had been dating for awhile, but I just kind of wanted to do it. All my friends already had, which sounds like I succumbed peer pressure, but I think I just wanted to get it over with. I do remember feeling kind of gross about it the next day, though I think it was just the build up and eventual let down coupled with the constant thought of "Can anyone tell?" I do remember it was night before the state Solo & Ensemble competition, so that just made the day extra weird for me. Like I had this secret, but I felt like people knew it by looking at me. It's hard to describe.

It wasn't like I hadn't done anything else before that. A thought that sticks in my head is a conversation I had with a guy I dated a few times in high school one of the last times we hung out. "I remember you were naked a lot." And he was talking about before we ever actually had sex.

And that's where that question in Heartstopper feels so weird to me. It's the phrase "actually had sex." I don't remember if we had sex the second time we dated in high school because I don't remember if that was before or after I "lost my virginity." I know we did the time he visited me when I was in college in Chicago and the time I went over to his mom's house after I conceded defeat as a college graduate (it was the start of the Great Recession) and moved back "home" with my dad and grandparents (he even commented that he didn't know why we "always" ended up doing it when we got together).

I think what flips that idea of what actually counts on its head for me is being bisexual. Because I know some of the things I did with that guy before we had PIV sex are what I would count as "sex" with women. After I came out (and had sex with a woman for the first time) I had this weird theory in my head that maybe you kind of have 2 virginities: one with men and one with women. And I think that also stems from this scene in Chasing Amy

Now the other thing that was going through my head with that movie, despite the fact that it was one of my favorite movies, especially when I first realized I was bisexual, was that it was pretty biphobic. I mean, it was released in 1997 and written by a cishet man, so I'll give it the slightest pass for that, but still. IDK if I could watch it today with as much love as I did in my late teens/early 20s. Plus, it (along with my theory) completely skips over the fact that there are people who don't identify as male or female (e.g. my spouse), but we'll come back to that in a bit.

I guess why the whole "Does it count?" question throws me for a loop now is because there are things that if I did them with women, I'd consider it sex, but if I did them with men, I wouldn't. I mean, yes, oral sex is still sex, but it's not the "standard" in a hetero relationship and is also why I didn't think that guy and I had "real sex" the first time we dated or that I didn't think I lost my virginity until I was 17. I almost feel that if I had realized I was bisexual before then and had sex with a woman first, that would have been the line, even though I had definitely done some of the things that would have "counted" before with a man. And that's what's so weird to think about. Why did it "count" as sex with a woman, but didn't "count" when I did the exact same thing with a man?

At any rate, my whole "two virginities" theory definitely went out the window when I started dating my spouse. TBH, I had never met anyone who identified as non-binary (at least at the time that I knew them because, fun fact: I have 2 exes who now identify as non-binary, but didn't when we were dating) until I met them. I knew it was a thing and as we started to get to know each other, I started to learn more about being gender fluid from them. Going back to the biphobia of Chasing Amy, I think what really makes it biphobic is Alyssa's internalized biphobia. Like she truly is bisexual, but she can't seem to admit it to herself. She feels like she has to choose. Holden makes her feel like she has to choose and if she continues her relationship with him, she has to admit that she "just needed some deep dicking" (he actually says this and tries to make it sound like a joke, but I think he really does feel like he wanted to brag, "She thought she was a lesbian until she met me!"). And I totally went through a phase like that my first year of college. I said I was a lesbian, but I would still sleep with men (we won't talk about the bad choices I made in my late teens and early 20s because I realize a lot of them stemmed from my fucked up brain chemistry and not being medicated). IDK if it was a thrill to call myself a lesbian or I liked the attention it gave me (I really loved toying with, "I'm a lesbian, but I'll make an exception for you"), but I most certainly was not actually a lesbian. And I think I knew it. I eventually accepted that I was definitely bisexual, though I leaned more towards the gay end of the Kinsey scale. I know I even said, "Yes, I'm bisexual, but I could never see a penis again for the rest of my life and be fine with it."

I'm not sure how much of this makes sense and who's even bothered read this far. I'm not sure how to sum this up either. I just was reading all of the "Yes! It's counts!" comments on that page and felt really compelled to talk about how weird it is that what I thought "counts" with a woman didn't "count" with a man. Virginity is a strange social construct and my favorite movie from my late teens/early 20s is actually really biphobic and probably what caused me to have internalized biphobia during that time of my life.

[storiesxinxthexstars]

Who’s more foolish--the Fool or the Fool who follows him?

Name: Ephiny. Pronouns: She/Her. Age: Ageless. 😎 In all seriousness, I’m over 30. Residence: United States. Timezone: Eastern Standard Time (U.S./Canada). Astrological Sign: Cancer. Avatar: Retsuko from Aggretsuko.

Hobbies: Writing, Reading, Dungeons and Dragons, Screaming about my love for Obi-Wan Kenobi, Clint Barton, and Poe Dameron...Video games, cooking/baking, and cosplaying.

Roleplaying experience: I’ve been rping since high school, back when it was swapping spiral notebooks back-and-forth with my friends between classes. Then, I go to college, and there were chat rooms, message boards, LiveJournal (RIP GreatestJournal -sniff-), and Facebook. Finally, back around 2012, a friend introduced me to Tumblr, and I’ve been on this hellsite ever since.

Favorite Jedi? Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker. The twins are tied. Second is Qui-Gon Jinn. Followed by Obi-Wan Kenobi.

How did you come up with this URL? I wanted something stars and writing related. This is what was available. 

When are you available? Honestly, whenever I am awake and not in the middle of something. My job is slightly laid back about it, so long as I keep up with my work, and I’m pretty much on my laptop when I’m home. So, usually between the hours of 8:00 A.M. - 12:30 A.M. Please note- my work hours are 8:00 A.M. - 4:30 P.M. from Monday thru Friday, then I have a ninety (90) minute long commute. Do not call me during those times, and if I don’t reply to your message, that’s why--I’m either working on something at my job or I’m driving.

Hey, how come you haven’t replied to [insert thread here]? Because my anxiety/depression is flaring up. Because I’m eating. Because I’m on the phone. Because I’m reading. Because I’m watching some movie or show with my family. Because I’m at a con. Because writer’s block sucks. Because I’m working on something else at the moment, or I’m talking with someone.

I know many of us on here deal with self-esteem or social anxiety issues. So, let me just say it on here- Your brain is just being mean to you. I don’t hate you. I don’t hate writing with you. While writing is my favorite hobby, it can be a very fickle thing. Some days, I’m going to write dozens of pages. Some days, it’s just going to be a few paragraphs. And some days, there will be nothing. But I am just here to say that you are NOT a bad writer, your character is NOT bad, and you are NOT a bad person. If I am being slow, please, do not take it personal.

Anything else you want to know, within reason, hit me up.

[themasksephinywears]

The Woman Behind the Mask

Hi, there.

Well, if we’re going to be writing together, here’s some quick facts about me.

Name: Ephiny. Pronouns: She/Her. Age: Ageless. 😎 In all seriousness, I’m over 30. Residence: United States. Timezone: Eastern Standard Time (U.S./Canada). Astrological Sign: Cancer. Avatar: Retsuko from Aggretsuko/Abby Sciuto from NCIS.

Hobbies: Writing, Reading, Dungeons and Dragons, Screaming about my love for Obi-Wan Kenobi, Clint Barton, and Poe Dameron...Video games, cooking/baking, and cosplaying.

Roleplaying experience: I’ve been rping since high school, back when it was swapping spiral notebooks back-and-forth with my friends between classes. Then, I go to college, and there were chat rooms, message boards, LiveJournal (RIP GreatestJournal -sniff-), and Facebook. Finally, back around 2012, a friend introduced me to Tumblr, and I’ve been on this hellsite ever since.

Why do you keep making muses? Because I can.

How did you come up with this URL? I dunno. Just thought it sounded catchy. I was trying to think of something generic, since it was going to be a blog for multiple OCs across multiple fandoms, and I just think masks are cool.

When are you available? Honestly, whenever I am awake and not in the middle of something. My job is slightly laid back about it, so long as I keep up with my work, and I’m pretty much on my laptop when I’m home. So, usually between the hours of 8:00 A.M. - 12:30 A.M. Please note- my work hours are 8:00 A.M. - 4:30 P.M. from Monday thru Friday, then I have a ninety (90) minute long commute. Do not call me during those times, and if I don’t reply to your message, that’s why--I’m either working on something at my job or I’m driving.

Hey, how come you haven’t replied to [insert thread here]? Because my anxiety/depression is flaring up. Because I’m eating. Because I’m on the phone. Because I’m reading. Because I’m watching some movie or show with my family. Because I’m at a con. Because writer’s block sucks. Because I’m working on something else at the moment, or I’m talking with someone.

I know many of us on here deal with self-esteem or social anxiety issues. So, let me just say it on here- Your brain is just being mean to you. I don’t hate you. I don’t hate writing with you. While writing is my favorite hobby, it can be a very fickle thing. Some days, I’m going to write dozens of pages. Some days, it’s just going to be a few paragraphs. And some days, there will be nothing. But I am just here to say that you are NOT a bad writer, your character is NOT bad, and you are NOT a bad person. If I am being slow, please, do not take it personal.

Anything else you want to know, within reason, hit me up.

(P.S. This is just a blog for (most of) my OCs. If you want to see who else I play as, go here!)

*OOC tag is “The Woman Behind the Mask” *Mun tag is “Much Ado about the Mun”

[cheydoesfandom]

Fifteen to twenty years ago, I felt strongly that subs are superior, for a number of reasons, ranging from accuracy to quality to snobbery (tho I generally allowed people to enjoy as they liked, I didn't hide that I disagreed).

However, the poor quality dubs of yesteryear aren't really the problem they were anymore, now that there's, y'know, money in the industry. The voiceacting is better, translations are more accurate, and the quality is just overall improved.

But some of those old dubs were extraordinarily bad. Storylines cut or rearranged, character relationships altered, genders switched, complete reediting to change aspects of the animation.

Sailor Moon's DIC anime changed a lesbian couple into cousins, cut and pasted episodes together early on, shortening the series by at least 2., and a character was swapped from male to female (I'm p sure, but maybe it was the other way) to reframe a relationship.

4Kids would alter out ANY blood, because they were marketing anime for teenss to children. They turned Sanji's cigarette into a sucker, anyone else remember that?? Even as a 14yo who only had the dub to go on, I could tell it was weird. HIS HAND POSITION, guys! No one holds a sucker like that!!

And of course, Brock's famous "jelly donuts" and other mistranslations for the sake of "dumbing things down" bc an American audience can't possibly comprehend a rice ball or other cultural reference.

Of course, there were few to no official subs back then, either, so if you didn't want to "suffer" the dubs, you had to watch fanlations, which were done amaturely but with love, and often under translated, leaving native words in the subtitles with notes translating them on screen as well. Which was mostly fine, if distracting (this was also common in manga scanlations and idk which came first), and maybe taught you a little of the language if you managed to read everything fast enough, but would never pass in a professional sub.

A culture was formed in those years, and its hard to unlearn, and of course people have personal preferences, and I generally still choose subs over dubs, but I recognize that things have changed and that there are people with different needs when it comes to media.

I'm a multitasking ND and when I watch things in English, I'm often on my phone, too. But I can't do that when I have to read subs. So I end up getting distracted and zoning out, or picking up my phone anyway. I know a lot of platforms use poorly designed subs, in colors that sometimes blend into the animation bc the lettering doesn't have outlines, and that's annoying even without a visual problem. Or sometimes you just can't read fast enough. Or you're so focused on reading you miss the action and animation itself.

And some people just can't see, or colorblindness makes reading harder, or they might be illiterate, or not fluent in the languages available.

Anyway, this has become a ramble and I don't know where I was going with this anymore, or what the point is, except to remind people that dubs aren't the dumpster fire they were in the 90s, so that excuse is starting to sound a bit hollow, and maybe the millennials clinging to the "dubs r trash" mentality should take a sec to consider other people's needs and also the state of the industry rn.

Goodnight

so sick of hearing “subs are better than dubs” “dubs are worse than subtitles” that is not how accessibility works

[beomblues]

choi yeonjun x reader — [00:32 am] | 0.5k g: fluff, best friend au, high school au | w: mild language, food mentions

“Don’t forget the soda.”

Yeonjun’s obnoxiously loud whisper cut through your trance, causing you to blink and realize you were still deciding which brand of chips to get. You pick up a random one so he doesn’t realize you had spaced out, throwing it in the cart. The crinkly sound makes you cringe a little since it was pretty loud in comparision to the silence that presently reigned over the empty grocery store.

“We’ll get upset stomachs,” you grumble, looking at the junk food that was already inside it. Eggo waffles, cinnamon toast crush cereal, chocolate easter eggs that were on sale since the store wanted to get rid of them as quickly as possible. Adding the chips to the mix, you can almost feel the inevitable sick day you’re going to experience soon.

“It was your idea to do this,” he reminds you, taking two cup noodles down from the shelves and throwing them in, before shooting you a sheepish grin. “Running low at home on these things.”

Your best friend is amusing, you know this. You’ve been stuck with him since your sophmore year of high school, and there wasn’t a person you would rather go with you at ungodly times to a twenty-four hour grocery store. You weren’t getting any sleep, and he had been bored. Match made in heaven in your opinion.

“Soda after whatever sugary pastry you’re going to get for us was not my idea,” you correct, picking out the cardboard-boxed cheesecake he had taken from the store freezer to purchase. “You know the strawberries in this are going to taste like shit, right?”

“That’s the beauty in it, Y/n,” there’s a twinkle in his eyes, one you knew all too well and had come to grow fond of. “The fact that it’s so shitty is what makes it fun.”

“No wonder you’re a hoot,” you snicker and he gasps, elbowing you and causing you to yelp. Your voices were the only sounds that filled the old store. 

“I take offense.”

“Good.”

He hums, hesitating for a moment. There’s something on his mind, and there has been for a while now, but you’ve never found the moment to ask him about it. Now or never, you suppose.

“What’s wrong?”

Yeonjun has very expressive eyes, and now they’re just a little sad. You’re not quite sure what has gotten to him to cause this, but you know you don’t like him being sad. You like the boy with the bright eyes and shit-eating grin. That was what made him, him.

“Will we still do this? Next year I mean.” The question hangs in the air, uncomfortable so. Next year- college. The two of you graduate, and to hell with what happens after that because you don’t know yet.

You don’t think you would be able to survive without him, who else were you supposed to do all your spontaneously and idiotic antics with? Growing up and letting go had always seemed like a idiotic concept to you, so you didn’t see why anything should have to come to a stop.

“Of course we will” You say simply, “Always.”

Yeonjun smiles, glancing at you for just a moment. Best friends, you had promised him in the tenth grade as he had promised to you. Maybe in the future you would be more, but for now, he was content with joining you for midnight escapades and such.

“Always.”

[sammygender]

michelle agresti on maxwell ( + her relationship with hera): transcript from wolf 359 ama #3, 1:41:00 to 1:49:00

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qz95mRZ7VMg&t=4642s

watching the ama and was very struck by these eight minutes of conversation about maxwell so... started writing a transcript for my own future reference + to maybe link to on the wiki so... thought there's no better place to post it than here. for the most part it's transcribed exactly as spoken but there's some repeated words, hestitations etc that i obviously didn't write in. ive bolded specific parts that really interested me (also all this starts capitalised properly but then as i fight to keep up with the speech i stop capitalising... sorry abt that in advance)

this starts with the question: "*slides michelle agresti a $20* tell me absolutely everything about dr alana maxwell. especially hera and maxwell's relationship"

(1:41:00)

Michelle: So first I'm going to say something that I wanted to talk about. So first when I was cast Gabriel wrote a backstory and sent it to me and I was thrilled because, I don't know how he did it, but he somehow nailed certain aspects of my high school and middle experience? that I'd never revealed, at least to Gabriel-- [laughs]

Gabriel: I promise I did not stalk you-

Michelle: It just, it talked about how Maxwell very quickly- how it was very quickly evident in her small country home town that she was brilliant, brilliant in an academic way let me clarify, brilliant at school, and she- and that's kind of like the coat tails that she rode throughout her life, and she achieved things very early, like she went to high school early, she went to college early, she went to grad school early. Because she was so focused on this academic part of her life - and because she kind of like, was skewed in social things, like we know she's got a restraining order on her family, like she kind of has skewed social relations to some extent, or at least what we consider 'normal' standard relations with people, so she kind of- and she was younger than everybody else so she kinda like grew up and reached puberty in a surprising way to her, and it was like she was considered in more of an academic sense, as like a brilliant child and a brilliant young woman for so long that like, all of a sudden, she was now a sexual being, and people looked at her that way, and she didn't know how to deal. And I think that shaped a lot of Maxwell's personality. It was like, one day, she was treated differently and she didn't know how to use it, and Maxwell is a person that uses everything she has. She's a person that uses the tools that are available to her - I think this can get morally shady, but she's on her own moral compass. That's something that was probably initially- I mean I was always a little bit Alana Maxwell because we had a lot of direction in steering these characters and I kind of like immediately seized upon like the idea of ‘she's the only girl in a team of boys and she's totally brilliant she's younger than them and she's probably smarter than them’ [laughs] but that backstory really, like, sealed the deal for me, and I sent an email to Gabriel about it being like HOW DID YOU KNOW??

Michelle: as for maxwell and hera... the relationship between the two of them. take it back to that concept of personhood. maxwell has a very interesting and a different relationship with AIs. they're her passion they're her life's work. i don't think she considers them to be equivalent to humans i think she considers them something different but of equal or more value. i also think maxwell has trouble interacting with humans... which is why her relationship with jacobi is so important. so the relationship between hera and maxwell... i mean i can speak for what i think hera is to maxwell is that there's someone who can finally talk to her not like she's a person. i think the humans on the spaceship interact with hera like she's a human, like if you look at the episode ‘am i alone now’ where hera talks, like people are always like 'hera can you hear me' and she's like i can always hear you... or if you look at the memories in memoria or even the last episode... like maxwell would've known at that funeral that hera doesn't really know what death is. because maxwell knows that hera isn't really a person- i mean human, let me make that distinction clear, she isn't really a human. so... i think there was this like very special and almost- and immediate deep trust between the two of them and has been pointed out hera is a very impressive ai so maxwell respects that and i mean you're kidding yourself if you think maxwell doesn't know that hera tried to escape i mean like maxwell knows this. so i think- maxwell uniquely respects hera as an AI and i think she understand's hera's sudden deep relief that she's talking to a human who knows what's going on - not entirely, but someone who is sympathetic and somebody's who's aware that they're different from her.

Gabriel: who can treat her on her own terms, who's not just projecting the terms and the needs of herself on her but who can understand her--

Zach: so... not a burrito loving buffoon

Gabriel: [laughs] sure

Michelle: no but i mean i think that relationship's valuable in its own way

Zach: right right-

Michelle: it's just that i mean if we're talking about blind spots-

Sarah: it's also that this is the first person who can speak her language like literally she speaks her language

Zach: yeah exactly right right that was an insensitive jokey way of saying like ‘here's somebody who gets her in a way that no one else has before’

Michelle: yeah

Zach: without like obvious malintent (cough cough pryce)

Michelle: yeah, pryce and maxwell... yeah but no i think the fact that maxwell truly understands that she's different and does not have the same experiences as hera makes them much closer, makes the relationship really special. as for- i feel like this was like asking something about romantic aspects kind of ish? i mean, that was never addressed and i think for myself as an actress and maxwell it's kind of a relief, i think, that because it's an ai human relationship that like this sexual... that like maxwell isn't being judged or seen through her body in a sexual way because that i think-- i mean that i know is very difficult for maxwell to deal with when it happened as, you know, that happens, so... yeah i think was really important for maxwell and i think that's also why she likes dealing with ais because they don't have bodies

(1:49:00)

[greenygreenland]

Dream A Little Dream of Me: Norman x Reader (Part Three)

-part three is here! I had to slice it in two because apparently there's a certain word block limit (at least on mobile). So get ready for part four!

Summary: You can’t remember anything.

Month four, 08:00

The last thing you recalled was the face of a boy with light hair. His eyes were bright, swirling with love and affection you looked for everyday. Whenever you woke up, you couldn’t remember his name, or his sweet voice that called out to you in your dreams.

All you had was the light of day and the rising sun. It made you sad to look upon it alone in your room. Someone else were supposed to be by your side, right next to you. But who?

And then there was the absence of a motherly figure--a woman you only recalled through song. How was it you remembered that melancholy tune but not a name or face? You wished you knew, and you prayed everyday to whoever was up there to give you another chance. Another go at life--with the people you never knew the names of.

“Good morning, Letha.”

You met the old man’s gaze with a simple nod. His crinkly voice was one of the things you actually didn’t mind, even if it was hard to hear at times. 

The old man, Alex, was kind, but the most you conversed about were your lost memories, your insane knacks for weapons, chess, and lastly, intelligence.

Time wasn’t friendly, and a month passed uneventfully. It turned into two, which turned into three and so on. Every now and then, you wondered if you’d stay like that: a blank slate. Alex said there was this one philosopher who called it a ‘tabula rasa’. For some reason, that fact reminded you of someone long ago.

Dark hair, the smell of old books, dust hidden between bookshelves...

You began to make out the image of a boy. He was no older than you, with cool eyes, a warm, yet small smile. Who was he? His name was at the tip of your tongue, yet it wouldn’t come out.

Ren? Reylo? Tired Cyclops? No, that wasn’t it. Obviously.

It hurt to think too much about it, and before you could grasp onto it, the memory faded, along with the name.

“Don’t think too hard,” Alex warmly said. “I’m sure it’ll come with time.”

He hoped to help you recover your lost memories, but in the meantime, he’d do his best to support you, just as he’d done with his long, dead daughter. For that reason, he felt it was time to bring you to the world outside. In this town you both resided in, everyone died in a war.

Alex was the only survivor.

For that reason, he was the only person you ever got to know these past seven months. There was no one your age around here, and it wasn’t like you went far anyway. Every now and then, Alex brought you a few towns over to experience a nice train ride to his favourite shops. Then he’d buy you something and take pictures.

But now? He felt it was time to take it a step further. He wasn’t sure if you’d like the idea, but it was worth a try.

SEVEN MONTHS LATER, 06:28

“Come again?” you inquired. Alex took a sip of his coffee and stood from the chair. The wooden floorboards of the cabin creaked under his weight. He waddled over to the window, drawing open the plaid curtains. Warm rays of sunlight fluttered upon your face and Alex smiled warmly like he always did.

“It’s time you get out more,” he said, “and experience the world outside this old town. I want you to look across the horizon because there’s more than the cabin.” You knitted your brows together. You didn’t like how cryptic he was being. It reminded you of someone you once knew, someone who you held close to your heart.

“Gramps, what are you trying to say?”

Alex heaved in a long breath, as if he were afraid of saying it himself. “I want you to go to school. College, if you want the specifics.” Your eyes doubled in size and you hoped, prayed, that he would take it back and say it was a joke. College? You didn’t need a degree! And besides, it was expensive. You couldn’t afford something like that. But alas, Alex wasn’t one to joke about serious things like that. He was an old man, so he always meant what he said.

This time was no different.

“You mean it,” you practically whispered. “That you want me to go to college.” Alex nodded, absentmindedly running a hand through his thick, white beard. There was a long pause and you took the time to sip your tea. Would school benefit you in some way? Was it worth the time? The work?

It didn’t make sense. You were smart. Alex said it himself: “I haven’t met anyone as smart as you”. So why did he want to send you to school? It had to be more than just to “meet people” because you did that all the time on the train every few days.

“What’s so good about college, Gramps? We can’t afford to pay for something so expensive. I don’t want to see you in debt just because of me.”

Through your calm façade, Alex noticed the spark of uncertainty in your eyes. Throughout the long days he got to know you, he realised one thing: you were never keen on showing your emotions.

“I want to give you an opportunity to find yourself,” he finally replied. “If the people you knew are around your age, then going to school might bring something back. You know, jog your memories. Besides that, I want you to have a life more than that I can offer. There’s nothing in this small town.”

“I don’t know about that. I have you here. You’re all I know, Gramps.”

Alex knitted his bushy brows together. “I know, but I can’t always be the only one you know. Don’t you want to see the world?”

It wasn’t that going to college was excruciatingly disappointing, only that it was a means of giving out false hope. How could you cling onto something so child-like and unreliable? 

Hope could only get people so far. You were no different.

That night, you lay in bed, wide awake. A nagging thought kept pulling at the back of your mind, repeating itself over, and over, and over again until you couldn’t stand the phrase. But as soon as you repeated it with your own lips, it vanished as if it never existed.

You lay in bed for a little longer, fighting the lull of sleep. It pulled on your eyes, and your head nodded as you forced down a yawn. Sleep was for the weak. If you stayed awake a little longer, maybe you might remember something, right?

-----

The grass tickled your bare feet. If it were any normal day, you would have liked to lay down in its warm embrace with Emma, Ray and Norman. You could watch the clouds together, and wonder about life outside these concrete walls.

But that was stupid to think about, wasn’t it? The liberty to relax and do absolutely nothing had been striped from your very being, like the air that you gasped and chocked on. You held your shoes tightly to your chest and frantically glanced past your shoulder. Good. All clear, just how you liked it.

Norman and Emma lay a couple hundred meters behind. They were your eyes, the two little owls that perched high above with all-seeing eyes. With a grunt, you hopped over a thick tree root and tossed aside your shoes. They landed somewhere in the brush, right where the trees parted.

You came to a stop and glared at the concrete wall towering over you. If you completed your mission and everything remained as straight-forward as you wanted it to be, then you’d escape with everyone. Just like Emma wanted. Just like you tried so hard to believe.

But what if something happened? What if Don and Gilda were caught? Or worse, what if Mama suspected that Ray betrayed her? Surely she wouldn’t go as far as to eliminate him on the spot...

...right?

You clenched a fist so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Stop. Stop it, you told yourself. You had to have faith in your family. They were just as capable as you, maybe even more, so they’d have no issues. You had to focus on your job so they could do theirs.

“My, so this is where you’ve run to?”

You sucked in a sharp breath.

No, that couldn’t be. You made sure she wouldn’t know where you were. You told all the precautions, too. Were Emma and Norman okay? What about Ray? And Don and Gilda?

“I’m surprised you managed to make this far.” Mama stiffly said. “You never were as strong as Emma, or fast either.”

It was like the sun stopped shining. Your blood ran cold. The warm rays turned to ice.

“It’s not too late to turn back (Y/n).” Her voice was silky smooth, tempting almost, as if she were coaxing a frightened sheep to the slaughter. “You’ve improved, my dear, but is it enough? Once your plan crumbles, what will you do then? It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama. It’s the reliable path. You will survive and you will be happy.”

For a moment, you wondered if she actually cared about you. Maybe her love was all fake from the beginning and she didn’t care about you. Or your family. Or anything but survival in this cruel world.

You never loved us.

That was what you wanted to say, yet the words stuck in your throat like glue. If she didn’t love you, then why did she hold you so tightly when you had a nightmare? If she didn’t love you, then why did her eyes shine with pride when you got perfect scores?

“Come, my dear,” Mama coaxed. “Let’s go home.”

The sudden urge to laugh bubbled in your throat like lava.

Home? This was a prison in disguise.

It’s not too late to turn back? A lie.

It wouldn’t be a bad idea to become a mama? As if.

You couldn’t afford to betray your family. Not after all you’ve done, and not after all the effort. They relied on you. You weren’t going to let them down.

You turned on your heel to face Mama. She smiled at you, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It made your stomach twist and turn, reminded you just how much of a danger she could be. Your gaze focused past her shoulder, where a familiar head of orange stood.

Emma peeked out from behind the trees and held up the bag of rope. Norman stood from a cluster of bushes and motioned the the wall. They were going to climb it while you distracted Mama. Perfect.

A bright grin broke out onto your lips. “I’m sorry Mama.” you began.

She stood like a statue with wide eyes. “Are you now?” she inquired. You were finally conceding in this fiery war of wits. After all that fuss and now would she have you back by her side? She opened her arms to welcome you. It was all she could do with her prized little girl. Finally you were being smart. Finally you were choosing the reliable path. You were going to follow in her footsteps. Survive. And outlive everyone in this house like she had.

But then something happened. Emma burst from the bushes, followed by Norman who helped throw the rope up a nearby branch. That triggered you into action, and you lunged at Mama with all the strength you could muster.

“I will never--!”

You wrestled for her watch.

“--ever--!”

Mama tugged on your little arms.

“--leave my family behind!”

You yanked the stupid watch out of her hands, but just as you stood, Mama grasped onto your leg and tugged. Hard. She gave it a squeeze, and a sickening crack echoed in your ears. You screamed. Your ears rung and you heaved in a strangled breath.

“You should have taken the reliable path.” Mama’s calm voice made you want to vomit. “None of us would be here if you had listened to your mama.”

-----

Your eyes shot open and you jolted awake. The faces, the voices, the senses--they flashed before you in a whirl of colours and sounds. Why couldn’t you recall who they were? Or what their names were? You knew every single one of them by heart, yet your mind lay completely blank. Again.

The urge to punch your mattress overwhelmed your senses.

“Good morning,” came Alex’s crinkly voice. That snapped you out of your frustrated stupor. He stood in the doorway, a warm smile on his lips and a spatula in hand. “Pancakes are almost done. Today we’ll get you settled in your dorm.”

Oh. Right. Gramps was sending you to a boarding school. The thought of leaving your beloved bed left you queasy and sluggish. Why should you go somewhere so far away from this cozy, little cottage? It was only recently that you settled here too. Maybe Gramps was taking it too fast.

With a heavy heart, you lugged yourself out of bed and threw on a pair of warm clothes. The unforgiving climate of this land was not one you would challenge. Ever.

The moment you emerged from your room was the moment you understood Gramps’s insistence. He meant well, you knew, but in a way you didn’t appreciate. Going out gave you a higher chance of meeting whomever you knew. It was completely logical.

“Are you worried?” Gramps began, placing a stack of pancakes on your plate. “I’ve already informed your school teachers of your amnesia, so they’ll understand. As for your dormitory, everything has been set. And don’t forget your breakfast, lunch, and dinner plans, as well as your--”

“You seem more anxious than me, Gramps.” you said with a subtle smile. He stared at you, wide-eyed until he mirrored you with a chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. I just want to make sure the transition goes smoothly.”

“Of course.”

“And that you’re safe and okay.”

“Gramps--”

“And that you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“--the pancake’s burning.”

That set him off. He jolted out of his chair faster than his age and capabilities should have allowed. It was a miracle too, because the poor pancake was seconds away from catching fire on the pan. A long sigh left Gramps’s lips as he turned off the stove. “I think I’ll give this to the birds.”

“You best do that, because I won’t eat that piece of charcoal.”

You shared a quick chuckle between each other, savouring the warmth and comfort that came. If someone else had found you that day in the field of endless grass, you weren’t sure if you’d be so lucky. It was by chance Gramps was the one to discover you, so you couldn’t imagine life otherwise.

Once your pancakes were gone and your bag all packed, you traveled to the train station in the early rays of sun. Gramps was the type of enjoy the silence of nature, but to you, it was excruciating.

It didn’t matter where you went. Each time, you looked past your shoulder, to the fading mountains, to the little rabbits that scurried by. It was like you were on survival mode. But why should you be when there was nothing out here? It was so peaceful, so wonderful that you couldn’t imagine anything coming out to get you.

Smile. It’s okay, I promise. I’m here.

You froze and glanced past your shoulder towards the rolling hills and the fading grass. That voice--you knew it. But had you dreamed it up? There was no one here but you and Gramps. A short sigh left your lips and all Gramps could do was ruffle your hair comfortingly.

The train ride was nice. With the calm chugging and the way it swayed, you didn’t mind it at all. Every now and then, your eyes fluttered open and closed. Maybe you were tired. Maybe you weren’t a morning person. Whatever the reason, you submitted to the lull and closed your eyes.

-----

Not a single soul moved for what felt like centuries. The moment Ray, Gilda and Don arrived at the scene, it was clear that nothing else could be done. Mama smiled at her children viciously. She wasn’t here to play nice any longer. Today, she was the hunter and her children the prey.

“It was a clean break. She will recover smoothly,” Mama curtly announced. “And Norman?”

You didn’t like the way she looked at him, or the way her grip seemed to tighten on your limp arms. Her gaze dangerously narrowed and she said, “Your shipment date has been set.”

Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold. Norman’s shipment date had been set? No, that couldn’t be. Your plan required at least another week until everything fell into place. Norman was the core of it all. Without him, what would you do?

And speaking of which, he was going to die.

Die.

Die.

Die.

He was going to die.

You squirmed in Mama’s grasp, hoping--praying that you could maneuver around this. Norman wasn’t going to die. You wouldn’t let him.

“Let me--let me go!”

It was reckless and it was stupid to think he’d be able to evade Mama’s sight just like that, but you had to try.  Didn’t Emma say you’d all leave here together? “Norman--!”

He blinked as if he’d woken up from a long dream. The forced smile the sprouted on his lips looked painful. Don’t struggle, it said.

Don’t struggle? How did he expect you to sit around and do nothing? If anyone should be shipped out first, it should be you. Why? Because you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you let any of your family go.

Mama glared down at you with a cold smile. “You can’t fight me more than you can stop the sun from setting,” she said, heaving you higher off ground. Your leg hit her arm and a cry escaped your lips. Norman flinched and Emma remained frozen in place.

You were always the strong one, not Emma, not Ray, and not Norman. Because you were one of the eldest, it was your responsibility to be the shoulder to cry on and to stand when no one else could. To see you holding back tears and gritting your teeth tight enough to make your gums bleed made Norman’s little heart break.

He didn’t care about his shipment date. All he wanted was to see you safe.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of faces, voices and regrets. The sharp pain in your leg long faded, leaving only a dull throb that stayed as a reminder of your failure. Yes, that was what you were, right? You couldn’t complete the plan even with Don, Gilda and Ray distracting Mama. You were pathetic. A waste of space.

The door creaked open and you sat up a little straighter. You smiled at the trio as they entered the room. “Hey guys.”

“How are you feeling?” inquired Norman. He took a seat by your bedside and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Ray pulled up another chair. He hid his face behind his fringe to conceal his grim frown. It didn’t work though, and you merely smiled at him. He huffed irritably, as if he didn’t want you to know he worried so much.

“I didn’t think she’d go that far.” Ray quietly muttered. You knitted your brows together with a absentminded shrug. “And to think I was that close to getting her watch.” Emma’s shoulders sagged. “I wish I had--”

“It’s fine Emma.” you said with a warm smile. “Broken bones heal, it’s not permanent.” She looked like she wanted to say something, but with the warm smile on your face, she couldn’t gather the courage to. Instead, she settled for a tight hug.

It was hard to look her in the eye anyway. The sadness she tried so hard to force down only added to your guilt, and you weren’t sure if you could think straight with all the regret.

“I’m sorry this happened.” you began. “Now that I’m hurt, you’re worrying for me.”

Emma pulled away as Norman gave a firm shake of his head. “None of this is anyone’s fault.” he stated. "None of us saw that coming, and even if we did, I’m not sure we’d be any good outwitting Mama on the spot like that.” He offered a gentle smile that made you feel just a little bit better.

-----

Gentle smiles. A warm summer breeze. Soft kisses. Tender touches. That was what reminded you of the boy in your dreams. Although you couldn’t recall his face every time you awoke, you remembered the fact that he was handsome and kind.

Gramps offered a warm smile. “Good morning.” You covered your yawn with a hand. “I’m assuming we’re here?”

He nodded. “Are you excited?” It was obvious Gramps knew the question. He only wanted to hear the answer from your mouth rather than from an assumption. As much as you wished to be excited for such a grand opportunity, you weren’t sure you’d like school. Well, how could you guess when you’ve never been to school in the first place?

At least from what you could recall.

“I still don’t know how to feel about this,” you quietly say. Gramps guides you along the walkway and out of the train, where you step out of the station and to the bustling streets of the city. You frown. Gramps said you were going to a boarding school, was it supposed to be somewhere as crowded as here?

From what you read, boarding schools needed large spaces to accommodate dormitories, classrooms, and sports fields. Was there such a thing as space in this congested collection of skyscrapers?

You shook your head to yourself and followed Gramps down whatever path his old-fashioned map led him to. He walked slow. Too slow for your liking. Not only that, but with all the people around, you couldn’t bear not to stick close to his side. What if he got lost? What if you got lost? Or kidnapped and sold on the black market for organs?

Maybe you were just paranoid.

The looming skyscrapers offered no comfort, and the cool breezes that sent shivers down your spine weren’t helping either. You hopped over a patch of ice and pulled your jacket closer just as Gramps came to a stop.

A lot of land stood in the middle of all the skyscrapers, where a pale field of grass stretched out over the acres of land. Buildings that looked like castles peppered themselves out in the form of classrooms, mess halls, and corridors.

You stood in the shadow of the tall brick walls. It separated the school from the rest of the city. An overwhelming feeling of bittersweet hope filled your system, as if you’ve stood in front of a wall like this before. Had you been here? No. You were sure this was your first time seeing the school.

“Take care Letha.” Gramps said. “Don’t forget to eat and exercise, as well as make some new friends. I expect you to call at least once a week, just so I know you’re doing fine.” You smiled a little, cheeks warm in embarrassment. “Gramps, I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“I know, I know. Just...this is a big step for you.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Be careful, and have fun. Even if you don’t remember anything, as long as you have fun, it’s fine.” He wrapped you in a tight hug. “And most importantly, I love you Letha.”

You basked in the warmth of his arms. You didn’t need to worry about your memories in that moment because you had Gramps. He was your world. Your family. What more could you ask for? But then he pulled away, and the warmth didn’t linger.

You were still incomplete.

The next day, you found yourself wandering the halls aimlessly, picking apart each detail and escape route in sight. The hall to your left had an exit to the school courtyard, a peaceful place with metal chairs and picnic tables. To your right sat another hall, which also had an exit to another courtyard. Then in front of you stood the front entrance, where the side exits fanned out in the halls next to it.

“Hey, you’re the new girl, right? Letha Meek-aye...Mikhaylov?”

You spun around faster than the speed of light. In front of you stood a girl, perhaps a year older with an unfriendly frown. She wore the generic school uniform: black skirt, long socks, white blouse, gray sweater vest, and a tie. Her bright, red locks stood out like a sore thumb. They curled past her shoulders in beach waves, framing her narrow, freckled face in rouge.

For a moment, you blanked out. When was the last time you spoke to someone, much less a teenager your age? Even though this girl wasn’t intimidating, it wasn’t like you wanted to talk to her. The point of coming here was to figure out if anything jogged your memory and then leave. It wasn’t playtime. “I’m new.” Your voice came out calmer than you felt. “Is that an issue?”

Despite the pointed look on her face, you had a feeling she was one of the nicer people in the area. She had a soft look in her green eyes, as if she understood what it felt like to be a new kid. “I’m Flanna Morris,” she said with a small smile. “Nice to meet you Letha.”

Flanna had an accent. By the hard ‘r’s and the elongated ‘oo’ sounds, you guessed she had to be from Ireland. Gramps told you it wasn’t too far from here, but still a while away.

You sent Flanna a cautious side eye. She was being too friendly. “Yeah, nice to meet you too...Flanna.” A hearty laugh that bellowed in her stomach echoed in the quiet corridors. “Look,” she said, “I’m not here to bully you. I just wanted to offer some help.”

Help? Yeah right. No one in this world offered help without asking for something in return. Besides Gramps maybe--but he was a special case, it didn’t count.

“Come on, I’ll show you around Letha.” The look on Flanna’s sweet face made it hard to decline. If you weren’t interested in seeing if there were any places you missed, then you would have declined. But perhaps Flanna could show you more than the shallow surface of this boarding school.

You passed to through the quiet corridors, where the sun shone through the windows overlooking the street. The sun rose over the horizon and up the edge of the skyscrapers’ base. Cars bustled about, and even through the thick brick walls, you heard all the honking and yelling of the early morning traffic.

“So, where’re you from?” Flanna inquired. You tugged on the strap of your bag’s shoulder strap. “Far away.”

“What do you mean by ‘far away’?”

“I mean the countryside.” you clarified. Flanna ‘ohhh’ed. “The city must be a huge change for you then, I know it was for me.” You knitted your brows together. So she was from the countryside in Ireland? That’s more than a simple change of scenery. No wonder Flanna wanted to help you.

“Okay, so here’s the science hall. Ms. Darsey is one of the best teachers you can have around. You’re a juniour, right? I’m a senior--if you couldn’t already tell...”

Flanna talked a lot. No, she didn’t just love talking, she loved explaining all her experiences with x, y, and z teacher, as well as what classroom and what day of the month it was. She had a wonderful memory, you had to admit, but that made her stories long. Her energy was like a breath of fresh air, and that red hair of hers sparkled like jewels in the morning light.

Flanna’s hair was fiery just like a girl’s you used to know. Her face wasn’t clear in your mind whenever you thought of her, but the joy she always brought you stayed. It made your heart warm. Flanna seemed to have a similar effect, but not as strongly as the girl you once knew.

“You have Mr. Dursley for English,” she noted. “Make sure you don’t stick out. He’s a big pain and if you’re late, he’ll give you a detention.” You raised a brow. Mr. Dursley detained teenagers for being late? What kind of nonsense was that? You decided to phone Gramps later and ask him if that were true. He’d know. Hopefully.

The look on your face made Flanna chuckle, but you had a feeling she didn’t understand your thought process. “Don’t worry,” she casually said. “You’ll be fine. I bet’cha Connor and James will be the first to get a detention. They’re both trouble makers--little devils. Especially James.” You stared up at Flanna’s bright, green eyes. They sparkled like the sun against her hair. You’ve seen that look before, the one of unsaid love and adoration. Long ago, someone looked at you like that.

But who?

You wracked your brain for answers. It was on the tip of the tongue. Right there--just in front of you. Yet it was as if something were preventing you from seeing the truth. The one postulate you knew stuck throughout the days you’ve forgotten who you once were.

Backtrack. Backtrack.

A boy. Light hair. Soft eyes. Kind smile. A laugh that was like music. And the calling of your name.

“(Y--n)!”

Yes, that was the sound of his voice, right? Or maybe it was a stranger’s instead, someone’s you’ve heard on the street. Then whose name was that? Was it even a name to begin with? Maybe it was a word instead and you misheard it as a name. That thought made your heart throb in the worst way possible. Ice filled your veins, and you found yourself pausing to stare out the crystal, clear windows.

“Something wrong?” Flanna inquired. You blinked away the haze and turned to her with a shake of your head. “Just nervous.” A bright smile burst onto Flanna’s lips. “Ah, I see. No worries, you’ll do great. And if you don’t it’s your first day, right? Nothin’ wrong with messin’ up a little.”

You wished you could believe Flanna, but something deep in your heart said otherwise. A slip-up could cost someone more than their reputation. Possibly their life. You couldn’t speak from experience, but you were sure you’d seen a sacrifice. Long ago. Far away in the distance.

Flanna stopped in front of your first period class. “We still have about fifteen minutes before school starts. Everyone’s probably in the cafeteria eating breakfast or fooling around in the field. I recommend you come early to class so you don’t get caught up in the crowd.” And with that, she waved, turning on her heel to hurry away. “I’ll see you during lunch! We have it together, so I’ll come find you in the cafe!”

She rounded a sharp corner and disappeared, leaving you alone in the quiet hall. You peeked in through the open door. At a long desk sat a teacher, who stood at the notice of your presence. She wore thin glasses on her old squarish face, a white blouse with a tie, a woolen navy blazer, and black trousers with heels to match.

The teacher had a kind face, with eyes that were soft with years of wear and tear. The smile on her lips said it all--she had seen things. Many things. “Welcome, I assume you’re Letha Mikhaylov?” She had a crinkle in her voice like the edges of her eyes when she smiled. It complimented her kindly face.

“Yes.” you replied. “That’s me.”

“Well I’m Mrs. Walker.” She motioned for you to come in, that sweet smile still on her lips. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been informed that you have amnesia. May I ask how much you remember?” You folded your hands together. It was the least you could do to look less nervous.

“I remember skills, knowledge, and the arts. I do not recall my original name or what my life was like before, but I am still highly-functional. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Walker. ”

The way you worded your sentences was off-putting to the teacher. It wasn’t normal for high school students to be so in-line, much less well-off with their manners.

From the report she read, you were taken in by Alex Mikhaylov, a writer who lived in an old, deserted town. He claimed he’d been trying to help you re-gain your memories for nearly a year, but from the looks of it, there wasn’t much to go off of.

Mrs. Walker took a seat at her neat desk. A pencil sharpener sat at the corner along with a tissue box, stapler, tape dispenser, and a plastic name plaque. In bolded letters it said, Mrs. Walker. Of course, in cursive. A few photos were cramped by her computer, where she stood there, smiling with a young girl and a man. Mrs. Walker looked to be around twenty-eight to thirty in that photo.

You stood by her desk awkwardly. Were you supposed to sit in the back? Near the window? Or in the front? The sinking feeling of unfamiliarity plagued your mind as you ran a hand through your locks.

There weren’t any other students here besides you.

“You may take a seat wherever you’d like Letha,” Mrs. Walker said. “I do not assign seats in this class, but if there is an issue, I can if you’d like. Is there anything I should know about you?” You shook your head and took a seat by the window. The football fields, frost-bitten and white, stretched out as far as the eye could see. A little to the left of that were the dormitories. Red brick walls and sparkling clean window panes, just like every other building at the school.

Winter was a wonderful season, but you wished it weren’t so cold all the time. Maybe if there were a bit of snow, it would cheer you up, jog your memory even. “I’m not sure if I have anything of importance.” Your voice echoed in the deserted classroom like a bell. “But I hope I can do my best.”

A smile broke out onto Mrs. Walker’s lips. “Don’t hope, do.”

And so you did. You vowed to do what you could with whatever you could. You weren’t going to hope to do your best, or hope to find your memories because you would. They’d come back to you, and you were going to do everything in your power to get them back.

PART FOUR COMING SOON [GIVE ME LIKE THREE DAYS TO ADD A BONUS PORTION BECAUSE I LOVE YOU GUYS] -->UPDATE: PART FOUR HERE <--