#cognitive development in students

[townpostin]

Chess Event Marks Double Celebration at J.H. Tarapore School

International Chess Day and Coach’s Achievement Honored International Chess Day festivities at J.H. Tarapore School highlight chess’s educational value and recognize coach’s international status. JAMSHEDPUR – J.H. Tarapore School commemorated International Chess Day with a dual celebration, honoring the global chess community and their coach’s recent accomplishment. The school grounds buzzed with…

[sanctiphera]

Are we waking up to reality yet? Anne Frank had nothing to do with Gaza, so there is no reason to deface her statue unless the real reason is nothing to do with Gaza.

This is a pretty low thing to do, but I'm sure they're going to find a way to sink even lower.

[studentbyday]

{ 06.11.24 } · { 50 days of routine } · { day 8 }

i have to fill in a daily activities sheet for four days as part of the CBT workbook 😑 so for the next four days, you'll be suffering along with me, seeing my messy handwriting 😂

as you can see, i probably used my phone way too much today compared to the amount of stuff i have to do 🙃🥲🥲🥲 idk, what do you do when your brain needs a break and your body just really doesn't want to do anything either? 😅 i fear if i lay in bed to decompress, i will never want to leave it lol 😂

also. i have reached a new record. 90 tabs on my laptop browser. 🥲 (dw, i expect a good chunk of it will go away when i'm done with the global health assignment...only to go back to an insane number when i start the next one soon)

🎧 yesterday once more / i won't last a day without you – the carpenters

[successblueprints]

How I Deal with Tough Days When My Brain Won't Let Me Work

We all have those days where productivity feels impossible. It’s like no matter what we do, we just can’t seem to get started. I’ve come to realize that, for me, these days aren’t just about laziness or lack of motivation—it’s more complex. When I procrastinate, it’s often my creative brain, or what I like to call my “inner child,” throwing a tantrum.

Step 1: Understanding the Procrastination

The first thing I do is pause and try to understand what I’m running away from. Is it the overwhelming amount of work? In that case, I break it down into smaller, manageable bits. When the material feels boring, I add some fun—by creating colorful and funny interpretations of definitions or concepts. I turn words into weird characters, almost like a cartoon in my mind. Sometimes, I’ll turn it into a game, like seeing how many questions I can get right, or even trying new study techniques like rewriting a sentence or reading it out loud.

I find that when I’m bored, it’s a perfect opportunity to experiment. I might try drawing funny sketches of the material or use quirky interpretations to make it more interesting. The key is that I have to figure out what’s causing the procrastination—is it fear, perfectionism, or just the sheer volume of work?

Step 2: Naming My Inner Child

Once I understand what’s happening, I like to give my inner child a friendly name. This helps me communicate with it when things get tough. Every time I mess something up and feel like quitting, I know that it’s just my inner child reacting to the idea of perfectionism. Naming it makes it less scary, and I feel more in control of the situation.

A perfect example would be the time I noticed that my inner child shows up in my skincare routine, but not because I’m lazy—it's because I feel unmotivated when I don’t have enough of those colorful, trendy products, like the ones all over TikTok. You know, the Drunk Elephant skincare, with its fun packaging that every influencer seems to have. It taps into the same idea as “Sephora kids,” where even as adults, we’re drawn to overconsumption of things we don’t actually need, just because they’re colorful or trendy or aesthetically pleasing.

But I’ve realized that I don’t need fancy, colorful products to wash my face before bed. My inner child might crave those items, but recognizing that helps me let go of the unnecessary pressure to follow trends. I focus on the routine itself, rather than what’s missing from my shelf.

Step 3: Clearing the Distractions

Next, I clear my desk. Anything that’s not a school supply or a tool I need for work can be a distraction, especially if it’s colorful or unrelated to my task. I set a 5-minute timer and start working, just to show my inner child that it’s really not that scary. Once the timer’s up, I double it, taking short breathers in between. I repeat this until I feel like I’ve done enough for the day.

Step 4: Knowing When Enough Is Enough

After a certain point, I trust my own judgment. I ask myself honestly, “Is this enough for today?” If I feel like I’ve given it my best shot, I let go of the need to do more. I accept that some days will be harder than others, and that’s okay. The important thing is that I’m not fighting my inner child, but working with it.

It’s a simple process, but it’s effective. Instead of battling myself, I’ve learned to communicate with that part of me that gets overwhelmed, bored, or perfectionistic. By understanding and breaking things down, I can get through even the toughest days without feeling like I need to drop everything.

P.S.: I’ve struggled to stay productive most of my life, and a part of that was because I didn’t grow up in one of those aesthetically pleasing, western-style homes you always see on social media. I live in the Balkans, and my bedroom looked nothing like that. It wasn’t perfectly curated or full of trendy decor, but over time, I grew to love my culture and my surroundings. Even though I wasn’t the richest or living the most "aesthetic" lifestyle, I’ve learned that what I have is enough, and it doesn’t define my ability to be productive or happy.

[joyceaila]

ICT COMPETENCY STANDARDS FOR PHILIPPINES PRE-SERVICE TEACHER EDUCATION

[onelittlespiral]

Attention: Health and Safety Alert

Dear Students, Faculty, and Staff,

It has come to our attention that a serious outbreak of a virus illness has been seriously harming our campus community. We take this public health threat very seriously and want you all to be aware and alert so that you can stay safe.

As a matter of transparency, we want to be clear on the origin of this virus. The Frontal Recognizance Transmutation Arenavirus 24 (often called just arena or FRT-24) has been a known threat for some time, with clear symptoms from infected individuals. A research lab on campus was known to have been studying its effects. This particular strain, the alpha variant, was of particular interest, so when a sample went missing, we exhausted campus resources to locate it. We were unable to and are now deeply sorry to our campus community. We take full responsibility for the current outbreak.

FRT-24 is highly contagious, so it is important to know the immediate signs. Look for:

Sudden headaches or migraines

Dizziness or loss of vision

Fevers and chills, especially paired with heavy perspiration

Loss of cognitive functions

Rapid muscle swelling

If you are infected, symptoms may take up to three days to develop, and you may still be a vector in this time. As the disease takes hold, you may notice a change in mood, as a lack of interest in usual activities. Instead, the disease drives the infected towards spreading. Common hubs seem to be gyms, parties, and social gatherings. We have also noticed an uptick in fraternity membership this year, a possible sign of disease spread.

Know the signs in yourself or others, as often the infected will not show traditional signs of ailment. This student has given us permission to share his story:

This young man was a healthy Junior just a few weeks ago. He was a promising young academic in biochemistry, hoping to one day do research on emergent diseases. Since his experience with FRT-24, his life is forever changed.

The changes are alarming. He has gained over 100 lbs and been unable to focus on his studies. Instead, he was spending hours in the student rec center, consumed by his illness as he worked his body to exhaustion. Since his quarantining, he has been unable to answer any basic questions about his academic career or research project. Instead, he has shown a hallucinated knowledge of a personal training and fitness program. As an early vector, we are aware of at least 10 other students who were infected before his quarantine, and he is being held for further observations on disease progression.

Thankfully we have been able to identify the method of transmission. At this time, it seems bodily fluids are most transmissible method. It seems that this virus enhances the body in this respect. Those infected will often try to spread by any means necessary. They are very good at finding susceptible men, isolating them, and finding ways to expose them directly to their sweat, saliva, and in some cases semen. They will be desperate for any chance to get you alone with them, to join their ranks. Do no be drawn in by promises of muscle, of status, or ease of life. Their brains are no longer their own. They only seek to make you a drone for FRT-24.

While we are still in the early stages of understanding the virus, we would like to acknowledge the valiant work done by Dr. Pulaski and his team of researchers. They have lead the way in this fight, throwing themselves at this dangerous line of work. Without their noble sacrifice, we would be still months from understanding the origins of this outbreak. We have narrowed down the point of origin to a party held a few weeks ago in the PKE frat house. At this time, it is unknown if frat leadership was in any way involved with this outbreak.

Sadly, Dr. Pulaski was found earlier this week a few days after conducting interviews and performing sample retrieval from the PKE house believed to be the epicenter. He was found shirtless, flexing his newly formed muscles in the mirror at the student rec center.

When reached for comment, he only smirked and reported “feeling great, bruh,” a clear sign of decline. We are still uncertain if he has exposed any of his other researchers to the disease.

Remember, you are responsible for yourself and out campus community. If you suspect you or someone you know has been exposed, please report to the Student Health Center immediately for examination. In the mean time, please stay safe everyone. We will continue to keep you updated as we know more

Regards,

Dr. Brendan Host, President

Congrats @occamstfs on 2k followers. I hope you all enjoy a late entry to the party. Go out and check out the other writers under the #occam2000 tag, some great stuff in there. And don't worry, FML: Initiate is coming soon.

[lotus-tower]

it is horrific what we’re allowing to happen to children right now. if covid causes cognitive dysfunction and decline in adult brains, what impact will it have on small brains that are still developing? many children who are too young to even be vaccinated are catching covid, as well as a whole host of other opportunistic infections. children can get, are getting, long covid. children aren’t sick often because it’s “normal” or “good” for them—they’re sick often because they’re more vulnerable than adults.

children have no choice but to be sent to schools where they get sick again and again. they don’t have the ability to distance themselves from their parents and establish boundaries, they’re entirely reliant on their carers. if their parents do not believe in covid prevention, they have no means to protect themselves. they don’t have the ability to consent to what is happening to their health.

schools are not just allowing children who are sick to attend class anyway, they’re borderline mandating it. schools as an institution care more about meaningless attendance records than about students’ wellbeing. the classroom is an environment where all factors incentivize students coming to school sick.

there are horrific accounts from parents about kids being sick 24/7, never having energy, struggling with schoolwork. there are horrific accounts from teachers about their young students being different these days, unable to handle the usual schoolwork, showing signs of that classic covid “brainfog.” i’ve seen evidence of schools making their tests and criteria much easier in order to maintain an acceptable pass rate instead of addressing the actual core problem in the slightest.

i often think about a comment i read once about how someone knew it was fucked when no change happened after sandy hook, when the US decided and enshrined the fact that children were acceptable sacrifices. this is how it feels. this isn’t just about the US though. children are getting reinfected with covid again and again worldwide. this is about the entire next generation.

they didn’t choose any of this. they have no power to stop this whatsoever. none of us consented to this, obviously, but children most of all. most of them don’t even have any idea what’s happening to them, and won’t for years.

there needs to be a push for schools to adopt better covid prevention measures, like better ventilation and air filtration. but even more crucial, and much more difficult, is to do away with the ideology at the core of how schools are designed. just like how workers deserve sick leave, children need to be able to stay home when sick. no jumping through hoops for a doctor’s note to be accepted, no strict time limit. schools obviously know that 1 student staying home sick is less disruptive than 20 students being sick and unable to do their schoolwork. they know the math, but they aren’t after efficiency. just like companies know that happier workers are more productive. that’s not the point. it’s more obvious than ever what is choking our societies to death on every level.

i’ve seen university unions who’ve won teachers the right to demand masking in their lessons, the right to have air filters installed in their classrooms. the same needs to happen for K12 schools, especially since young children can’t advocate for themselves. parents could theoretically wield a lot of influence as well—but let’s face it, most are uninterested in or actively hostile to the idea of better air for their children. efforts to combat this need to be organized, sustained, and coordinated.

imagine how current children will feel once they grow up and look back and realize that their health was compromised before they even learned to speak, that they were born into a sick world, that they were born to be sick, not inevitably but because people preferred things this way.

[archaic-stranger]

the cognitive science students

a strong desire to understand your own mind

becoming comfortable with abstract concepts

an unending curiosity for things beyond the scope of current knowledge

comparing neural nets to webs of neurons

working eagerly towards the next groundbreaking discovery

debating the nature of consciousness

arguing over definitions of thought or awareness

searching for the roots of human knowledge

analyzing biases in your own way of thinking

learning how your brain perceives the world around you

realizing that perception is not the same as objective reality

neuroscience texts and philosophical treatises jumbled together in your bookbag

sketching simple diagrams of the brain in your notes

understanding the mind through computational attempts to imitate it

getting completely absorbed by a fascinating paper

effective study strategies backed by research

discussing the bounds of sentience, from blue whales to artificial intelligence

studying how the brain develops over a lifetime

combining research from different fields, seeking a more comprehensive understanding

a sense of awe at the mind's immense complexity

[lonniemachin]

Dr. Mohammed Shaga reached out to me to help share his fundraiser. He is a Palestinian cosmetic dentist urgently raising money to help him evacuate continue his studies outside of Gaza. He has currently only raised $300 out of his $20,000 goal! Please donate and share, and if you can't donate, please still share!

From Dr. Shaga's GFM:

Dr. Mohammed's: A Journey of Giving & challenges

‏In a world full of challenges and opportunities, passion and determination pave the way for success.

‏I am Dr. Mohammed Shaga, a dentist specializing in cosmetic dentistry. Through my passion for the profession and dedication to honing my skills, I embarked on an unforgettable journey of challenge and distinction. ‏

‏I provided dental care to many patients and published scientific articles aimed at enhancing clinical practice and sharing knowledge with my colleagues in the field. I was also active in organizing scientific courses and lectures to transfer experiences and knowledge to the local and international audience.

‏I was working as an teaching assistant at the university, teaching and educating dental students on the basic principles and rules of cosmetic dentistry.

‏In the last year, I also enrolled in a master’s degree to increase my cognitive and scientific capabilities and to seek further development and continue realizing my dream.

Our lives changed irreversibly on October 7th due to war, my dreams of participating in the international scientific arena and completing my postgraduate studies were abruptly halted. My endeavors and aspirations faced a tough test, but I refused to give up.

‏‎‏Now, I seek your support to achieve my dream. I look forward to completing my studies and developing my skills in the field of cosmetic dentistry through the educational and training opportunities available to me abroad.

‏Through my campaign on GoFundMe, I aim to raise the necessary donations to fund my travel and start anew in my career journey.

‏ **Here is the breakdown of the requested funds: ‏

‏*6500 - will be evacuation fees through the Egypt-Rafah crossing border. ‏

‏*1000 - to cover visa fees for Turkey and airline tickets. ‏

‏*10,000 To complete my master's degree and start my own project

‏‎*‏the rest will be the website commission and living support in turkey ( rent and living expenses) initially.

‏Thank you for your support and understanding. I promise to exert every effort to achieve my goals and repay the kindness of those who contribute to realizing my dream in these challenging times. ‏

‏Believing that giving is the noblest path to success, I am Dr. Mohammed and I am grateful for your support and trust in my journey

[sanctiphera]

Why does the MSM/CNN/BBC/Sky and so many others happily accept the word of murdering Hamas propaganda without question? Stupidity, or connivance?

[maxdibert]

What are your headcanons on Severus and the Malfoys? Do you think he genuinely considered them friends, or was it part of his cover? Or were they ever really friends at some point?

I have so much to say about this! I actually have two different versions of the story, and I think both of them could be canon. I can never decide between them because both seem plausible, so I’ll share my opinion on each and let everyone decide which one fits best.

Despite being a poor, scruffy, half-blood kid from a working-class background, I think Lucius took Severus under his wing because, after all, Lucius was already a 15-year-old teenager who was likely quite involved in pure-blood extremist circles and had probably heard of Voldemort by then. He was probably trying to make a good impression by recruiting as many people as possible. And despite Severus’ background, treating him with respect was a pretty shrewd move to maintain unity within Slytherin and promote that “us against the world” mentality. This would ultimately foster the cult-like environment that developed during that era. I also think that, after seeing that Severus, beyond his background, had a strong interest and talent for the Dark Arts and was a good student, Lucius probably saw that Severus’ skills could be useful, which is why he kept him under his wing. Lucius Malfoy is often portrayed as a snobbish buffoon, but besides being a shrewd man, he’s part of high society, old money. And even the classist aristocrats know how to make use of the working class and recognize talent because, historically, they’ve maintained their position by exploiting such talent.

I think Lucius and Severus maintained that mentor-pupil relationship for many years, and once Lucius graduated, he intervened to help Severus be accepted and valued within his House while also using him as a sort of personal charity project. Like Cher in Clueless (who’s based on Emma Woodhouse from Jane Austen) taking on an awkward kid from the North without wealth or pedigree and turning him into someone fit for high magical society—a kind of social experiment, if you will. I think this made Severus feel indebted to him, at least before Voldemort killed Lily. I also believe that, during Severus’ school years, his gratitude stemmed not only from this “mentorship” but also from the fact that, for the first time, someone believed in him and motivated him to pursue his ambitions. Lucius was like a father/older brother figure whom he respected and appreciated for seeing him as more than just a poor kid with nothing.

That said, my interpretation of their relationship splits into two possibilities once Severus becomes a double agent.

On one hand, there’s the idea that, after Lily’s death, feeling guilty and determined to actively work for Voldemort’s downfall, Severus emotionally distanced himself from the Malfoys as much as possible. The relationship they developed over the next 18 years would then be solely a means to an end—to gain favor with someone influential within the Ministry and among the most important dark wizards. Deep down, it was all a façade because the Malfoys also represented everything he despised and regretted being a part of, so he decided to cut off any emotional attachment to them. Basically: it was all fake.

The other version, and the one I prefer because it feels more realistic, is that Severus, as the abused and abandoned child he was, would always experience cognitive dissonance toward people who treated him well during his most vulnerable years. It’s something evident in his view of Lily, even though he was joining a group that literally wanted to kill people like her, and I can see it applying to his view of the Malfoys as well. Though they were a family actively working to end people like Lily, and Severus would ultimately have to confront them if it came to it, he’d still struggle to sever his emotional ties with the Malfoys. Just as he couldn’t understand why his friendship with Lily was ending because of his choices, I don’t think he’d be able to emotionally cut off the Malfoys, even if he knew they were terrible or knew he might eventually have to face them in battle. Much like how Lily being the first person to treat him with kindness was enough to make him risk everything to atone for his indirect role in her death and his support of Voldemort, I think Lucius “taking him in” also carved out a streak of loyalty in Severus toward his family. Severus strikes me as someone fiercely loyal to anyone who’s shown him kindness or understanding, even if that loyalty is against his own interests. And despite everything, I think he genuinely cared about the Malfoys. While he no longer admired Lucius, I think he still respected him in a certain way, like a younger brother who knows his older brother is a jerk but still sees him as his older brother.

I also think Narcissa had a kind of “older sister” vibe for him—that when she and Lucius were dating and Severus was still a kid, she saw him as this scruffy little guy, like a cute but poor puppy. And that impression probably stuck with him too. I think he always felt more comfortable with her than with Lucius, since she was associated more with the maternal than with authority. While his favoritism toward Slytherins was partly to maintain appearances and partly due to resentment toward Gryffindors, I believe he genuinely liked Draco. This affection, though, was likely another form of cognitive dissonance because Draco was far more similar to James than Harry ever was (in terms of character, classism, and using his status, family name, and influence to torment others). But just as his hatred of Harry was a reflection of his resentment toward James, his affection for Draco was probably a reflection of his relationship with Lucius and Narcissa.

[grison-in-space]

I did a bit of de novo genome assembly way, way back in the day which I have never been able to use professionally because my PI refused to spend $2000 more on getting new read depth. He had ordered the reads before actually learning anything about the pipeline and only about half of the libraries he had ordered were usable in any given pipeline, see. (Some had been for older assembly methods and others had been for newer ones, basically.)

Rather than find the money to fucking get me the reads to do it right, he heard about an open source project called RACA that was some dude's dissertation arguing that you COULD use some of the worthless libraries to fill in the gaps of the assembly and get a functional genome out of it. I spent two years trying to move massive quantities of data through that fuckhead's pipeline on the campus supercomputer to get the assembled genome out, and then I got to the end and found there was no output as fastq files or ant other format recognizable to me.

(Give me a break, I was 23 and had also been frantically learning acoustic analysis, basic electrical engineering, and technical equipment maintenance in the two years since I had started learning to code. Plus I was figuring out what I wanted my dissertation to be. I'd never grappled with anything more complicated than our home-written library of matlab acoustic analysis before, and it simply hadn't occurred to me that anyone would publish a non-functional pipeline to achieve a goal quickly anyone verifying that anyone else had done anything yet.)

Anyway, eventually he collaborated with someone else who ponied up $2000 and a postdoc to get new reads. My name was not on the paper, so that's two years of my life developing a particular and fairly unique skill set that I will almost certainly never use.

In retrospect it's less surprising than you might think that the PhD took eight years and absolutely shattered my confidence.

And the best part is that it was just about impossible to predict at the time that shit would go quite this bad, except that some people handle power well when they're stressed and some people maintain a strong layer of cognitive dissonance over their knowledge of power such that it's never real enough to be responsible about but always real enough to win a dispute.

Anyway I think every student should have two advisors so that everyone in the department should have to immediately know about it when a PI is floundering and have a strong direct incentive to do something about it. A LOT of my problems could have been fixed with one look with a gimlet eye from a senior, more experienced researcher being not impressed at a student under their supervision running on an endless treadmill to nothing. Frankly a lot of my problems could have been solved if my mentor had formal training or literally any supervision that could deliver metrics faster than "how close am I to my previous mentees?"

I know a lot of dual advised students wind up in a tug of war between two advisors, but like: that's the point. If one of them turns out to be insane and malicious then a) the students all have clear lines to bail, b) the other ones all realize quickly that bailing out the chaos and career damage of someone who is fucking it up is way more work than resolving the problem, and c) the one with more tethers to reality has a way bigger likelihood of formally retaining the student when and if a third party has to examine the contract.

Just. It was such a fucking waste. And not because anyone necessarily wanted it to be wasteful, either, or any malice, but because I was... mm, I think the fifth PhD student in that lab and that's actually not that many to be learning on. Systems that set you up to play with decades of people's lives should have more fail-safes and places for people to learn before they get to be the sole director of someone else's career for five fucking years, not less. And yet!

[tieflingkisser]

Biden, CDC silent as North Carolina lawmakers vote to ban masks

Biden's White House has made everyday survival hell for disabled people. Now the last tool in the toolbox is being targeted with zero pushback.

This week, North Carolina Republicans are voting to ban wearing masks in public. The bill passed in the State House easily, was amended and passed in the State Senate, and will next return to the House for a vote on the amended bill. The Republicans also hold a supermajority that could overturn a veto, and killed a Democratic amendment to allow masking for health reasons. Hot on the heels of student encampments demanding that universities divest from weapons’ manufacturers responsible for mass murder in Gaza, Republicans jumped at the chance to criminalize two of their favorite punching bags, leftists and medically vulnerable people. Disabled people and allies have met the news with chagrin, as Republicans carry out the long-predicted next step in their war on medically vulnerable people appearing in public and remaining alive. Unfortunately, as Joe Biden jokes about refusing to put his mask on after a known COVID exposure, and left/labor pundits ignore the topic altogether, “allies” are few and far between. This combination of aggressive targeting and utter lack of solidarity is leaving those who rely on one-way masking to survive more at-risk than ever before.

[...]

Since it became clear (2021-22) that vaccines would not halt COVID transmission, that the virus would quickly mutate around vaccine protection, and that herd immunity would never be achieved, our government and media have worked assiduously to normalize constant reinfections and stigmatize those who object. People who suggest that it is the governments’ role to mitigate disease are painted as annoying and weak, a narrative that came directly from libertarian think tanks. Those who attempt to protect themselves in the face of harsh abandonment are painted as paranoid and mentally ill. What happened in North Carolina today is the unsurprising result of that years-long propaganda campaign. Masks are a critical tool to protect disabled people from COVID, but many people either bought into anti-mask propaganda, or do not think COVID is dangerous. For a leftist- someone who expresses belief in community care and solidarity- being unmasked doesn’t only convey the sentiment “I don’t think I can be disabled by COVID,” it also broadcasts the accusation, “I don’t believe you can be disabled by COVID.” Being unmasked while COVID spreads unmitigated is an insistence on ones’ inalienable right to expose others to COVID without their consent. Meanwhile, the latest CDC Household Pulse Survey found 17 million Americans currently living with Long COVID, and approximately 3 in 10 reporting having had Long COVID symptoms at one point. Viral persistence is currently a leading hypothesis for the development of post-COVID disease, and ��persistence of SARS-CoV-2 RNA or particles in multiple tissues for prolonged periods in patients following SARS-CoV-2 infection, particularly in patients with long COVID, is now well documented.” Mounting research shows that every COVID infection significantly damages cognitive function. Research led by Dr. Akiko Iwasaki at Yale School of Medicine continues to find immune dysregulation following COVID, and studies point to a 40% increased risk of developing autoimmune conditions after COVID. And it’s long been established that COVID substantially increases your risk of heart attacks, strokes, and other cardiovascular complications.

[...]

But Democrats continue to stand behind their failed “vaccine-only” strategy (now, without vaccines!) because of the political impossibility of attempting to pivot. Plus, when you’ve had such blinding success mainstreaming far-right beliefs about illness building the immune system and public health being a personal choice, why change horses now?

[hwaightme]

Motivate me

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

📝 pairing: postgrad!hongjoong x afab!undergrad!reader 📝 genre: smut, fluff if you squint, psychology 📝 summary: every week, you met with your tutor, Kim Hongjoong. And every week, you told yourself to let go of your fantasies. But what if just a dive into self-determination was all what was needed to stop the hour from running out? 📝 wordcount: 10.2k 📝 warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, language, teasing, references to psychology studies, mention of losing one's mind, fantasising, day dreaming, university setting, lecture hall, mention of tests, hj fluctuating between hard and soft dom, tutor hj, lmk if anything! 📝 taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @izuijin @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 📝 a/n: Good time of day~ sometimes one wonders if Freud would be a fanfic writer, sometimes one is just in the mode of 'head empty only Hongjoong'. Thank you so much for your love and support, biggest hugs

📝 nsfw tags: fingering, overstimulation (a bit), edging, sub!reader, dom!hj, a tid-bit of pain play - smacking/slapping/stepping on someone, exhibitionism(???), public sex, protected sex, a lot of petnames (sweetheart, pet, baby girl), sir, slave, degradation, humiliation, pet/master and slave/master dynamic

The ticking of a clock from a bygone era, clinging onto the wall by a rusty nail, a sword of Damocles over head of any professor to use the blackboards above which it was hanging. The distant shouts and laughter of students outside the lecture hall, enthusiastically recounting their weekend plans even though it was still the middle of the week– every attempt to erase the gruelling hours of study. The soft golden sunrays, not caring for the half-closed venetian blinds over the windows occupying nearly the entire side of the room, sneaking into the room and dancing over your skin as you cupped your head in your hand and leaned onto the desk.

You were here again, waiting to get your fix; a habit you could not quit. There was no real purpose for you to be meeting with Kim Hongjoong, revising the same material over and over until you could recount it in your sleep. You were doing well enough in your studies now, had other plans, other interests, and yet all the roads still led you right back to the psychology department building. Its carved mahogany pillars, antique tomes overfilling the grand shelves in the main library, the intricate plaster design in the myriad of maze-like, marble tile corridors. Your feet moved on their own accord, leading you to the same hall, again and again, hoping for some miracle.

The way you and Hongjoong had met could not be any more standard and uninspiring. It was the middle of the fall semester. You were an undergraduate student having trouble with a particular module, he was a postgraduate student conducting research with your professor as his supervisor, you asked for help, were appointed to Hongjoong as a tutee… and the rest was history. Truth be told, you had been terrified of having him help you study initially – from the few students who he had agreed to work with in the past, you had heard that he was strict, demanding, impatient and near despotic. He had a reputation of a judgemental man who counted down the seconds until he could free himself of the vermin that were his juniors.

How you wanted to laugh at this severe prejudice now! After the initial session where you two had established ground rules and expectations, and you had the bright idea of preparing a concise collection of syllabus requirements together with known assessment timings, it was as though someone had flipped a switch inside the young man. Hongjoong had perked up at your interest and had gotten rid of his cold demeanour once you had managed to remain proactive and engaged all throughout his ramblings – no easy feat when discussing human development and cognition.

And now, with two terms having passed by and the end of your academic journey approaching, you were still meeting. Hongjoong seemed to have an innate talent for thinking of something new to discuss with you – just so another session could take place. You strongly doubted that what was happening between you could still be considered a mere tutorship, however; While the core of your conversations remained locked in the realm of psychology and human behaviour analysis, the subtle nuances and implied deviations of meaning had taken on an entirely different palette.

The distance between you was continuously being tested, with a fleeting caress here, a playful touch there, but never anything beyond that. Even though you, supposedly, were training to be masters of understanding the human psyche, you were struggling, or perhaps more accurately, afraid to decipher each other’s intentions, instead leaving it to wishful thinking and irretrievable opportunities lost. Your heart remained in the paradise of the hours spent with Hongjoong but hoped that time could freeze. The clock on the wall was showing five minutes past five – quite unlike him to be late.

Part of you wondered if it was because, finally, Hongjoong began to grow tired of these sessions, of you. Perhaps those students were right after all, and you had merely been seeing what you wanted to see, falling into the trap of confirmation bias. But that hypothesis had no anecdotal evidence to support it – he was an ‘exact’ man, arriving and leaving on the dot regardless of any circumstances. Aside from staying over time once last term, resulting in him physically stiffening around you and being jittery for the next few meetings. You took it as anxiety or need for order, projecting what you had covered in class onto him.

The man in question was gazing at you through the window in the door, having spent the last few minutes trying to collect his thoughts. After having spent the last two terms in torturous denial, he could not find strength in himself to hold back anymore. And that started with this damn hour. It was like a shackle, constraining the two of you to a particular routine and forcing you to remain going round and round in circles. Hongjoong figured that you probably even struggled to ideate meeting him outside of these bounds, remembering the barely audible gasp and widened eyes when you accidentally bumped into him a couple of weeks ago. It probably had meant nothing to you, but to him it turned into a time bomb mechanism. He needed to do something, and fast, before the chances to act ran out entirely.

But look who was talking - at first opportunity he would jolt out of his seat and guide you to the door. He did not dare entertain the thought of going any further, for he knew, if he did so, there would be no going back. Such a move – out of line, and out of the allocated time, had served as the beginning of his highly unprofessional interest in you. That additional half an hour, last term in mid-December, poring over a textbook, one that he was not even able to read in the blur of his emotion and acute sensitivity towards your warmth, nearly right against his cheek, those thirty minutes had spelled his personal disaster.

Hongjoong had never expected to be anything but indifferent towards you. In the grand scheme of things, you could have been just a passing figure. But life had other plans and led him right into the trap that you had not realised you set. First, you came to be who he thought of when he worked - he grew accustomed to filtering papers and studies through a lens of what you could find interesting and relevant, inadvertently leading him to making double the efforts - for the both of you. Next, you transformed into his daydream, consuming his rest and innocuous musings - on multiple occasions he had caught himself contemplating what your preferences were between this or that, or whether you went to see the play you had told him about last week... He thought it would stop at that, alas, the control you had over his mind could not be contained. From day to night, you haunted him, your tasteful attire mentally exterminated by the unbridled desire that consumed him, from early echoes in-situ to hurricanes that left him shuddering in the privacy of his sin. Hongjoong was driving himself insane with you, and he was exhausted of not knowing whether you felt the same way about him.

There were signs, of course, hell, even the pretty little skirt and thigh high boots you chose to wear today were screaming at him and leaving him breathless. But this was all elements of uncertainty, at least until he was to make it the one goal to carry out his series of experiments and prove to both of you that you had long passed the stage of wanting. To one another, you had transformed into an unavoidable need.

It was another three minutes until he finally deemed it appropriate to press down on the door handle, and make his presence known. He expected the same reaction from you as always - a flutter of the eyelashes as you raised your head, how you studied him as though you were committing him to memory, and those soft, plump lips forming a coy smile in greeting. These traditionally insignificant gestures made Hongjoong go into overdrive and fantasise a totally different agenda for the tutorial. Maybe you knew what you were doing, maybe you didn't. But either way, he desperately wanted to become the only one to control those expressions, that inner world you only revealed to him in teasing snippets. Hongjoong simply wanted to own it.

“Did you read the papers I recommended?” It was something of a ritual at this point: he asked a question, you answered, then silence overtaking and lasting from the first exchange to the moment he sat right beside you in the same row, and then you began sharing musings on whatever topic of the week was.

Your head snapped up as soon as you heard the familiar dulcet tone. Finally, Hongjoong had decided to make an appearance, you had feigned ignorance of his lingering form, allowing him to loiter in the corridors while you took in the blissful ambiance of the quiet lecture hall, and considered possible reasons behind his silly actions. So, in a split second, you decided, if he was to be starting the session in an odd manner, it was only your duty to continue.

“Why were you late, Doctor Kim?” you asked, coquettish, emphasising the title that Hongjoong was in the process of trying to attain. He attempted to convince you on a number of occasions that you had no grounds to call him that, but the suppressed look of pride that graced his features, even if just due to the sense of superiority, made your little joke worth it.

The question made Hongjoong freeze in place, right at the entrance to your row. His grip on the leather briefcase he carried almost everywhere tightened, and he readjusted his glasses as a way to distract and calm himself. Evidently, you were onto him, seeing as you decided to veer off-script too. Had you been watching without him realising? With all his might he fought his darkening expression and stalked towards you without saying a single word in return. As he flipped the cushioned seat down and set the case on the elongated table attached to the next line of chairs, you unabashedly continued to follow his every move with your eyes.

Hongjoong’s look was what could be described as a simple elegance. Dressed from head to toe in black, each article of clothing fit immaculately, and highlighted his toned form in just the right places. The thin cashmere turtleneck, together with what you could only assume to be a tailormade blazer, perfectly accentuated his torso, and guided the vision from his delicate hands to his neck, and finally, to his bespectacled face. Effortlessly styled onyx locks made him appear every bit a gentleman, while the studded earrings hinted at a subliminal rebelliousness. His remarkable sense of taste, along with the way in which he could steal all your attention, were timeless truths.

Only once he was settled, his tablet set aside and stylus in one hand, knee almost brushing against yours as he turned a little ways towards you, did he recall what you had said, wondering whether he should let you keep calling him that, as a pleasant formality. In spite of the appeal that the notion had, Hongjoong chose to not entertain the thought any further, and instead let his discreet glances trail down your body, landing on the edge of the mini skirt where it had ridden up, only a little, but enough to give space for creative thought.

“I had some… business to attend to.” He could not think of anything better, but did not want the quiet to last any longer than it had already been. You were polite enough to not keep this particular conversation going, humming in return as you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

As you did so, Hongjoong caught the scent of your perfume, his favourite, which left him intoxicated. The floral notes with deliciously sweet undertones dealt permanent damage and taught him to search for you whenever there would be as much as a hint of anything similar. He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched you uncross and slide one leg over the other again. He was at his limit with you, this weekly hour having become a test in its own right.

Now that he was so close, the hall shrunk to a tiny suffocating chamber, where it was only you and him, and the setting sun lazily dragging across the sky outside. You had a tendency to forget just how quickly time could pass when with Hongjoong and were cursing the almost fifteen minutes that had already disappeared.  It was easy to form an image in your mind of him showing up later and later, until he would appear one minute before the end, and then not at all. Perhaps, you needed to start getting over your private teacher, but that was definitely difficult to start when you could sense his scrutiny – his special focus on your thighs did not go unnoticed, a win in your outfit selection books. His overwhelmingly tantalising presence. His hand suddenly tapping your shoulder, not remaining there for as long as you would like.

“So, about that reading?” Hongjoong tilted his head, and smiled softly, though his eyes held something unreadable.

“Of course.” Your voice had inadvertently dropped to a whisper, making the young man’s wandering observations cease immediately, snapping right back to you. After a short pause, he cleared his throat, and forced himself to steer back to the standard collection of lines you had abided by for long enough.

“Then let’s get started?” he wished the phrase would come out less as a question, but for today, or well, tonight in particular, he felt the need to ask for affirmation; subconsciously, he was testing the waters. “Explain to me, what is self-determination theory, and who are some prominent figures that helped develop it?”

You smoothed the pages of the notebook laid open right before you.

"The macro theory of self-determination, which has first been actively developed and brought to our modern understanding by Ryan and Deci, explores and evaluates the outcomes of actions related to human agency. This theory proposes three basic psychological needs, namely autonomy, competence, and relatedness, and introduces a relationship between the satisfaction of said needs, intrinsic motivation, and the regulation of extrinsic motivation.”

You kept your voice as steady as you could, reciting the passages you had highlighted while reviewing the material. Hongjoong was listening intently, nodding along to every phrase, humming in approval as you halted. His stylus remained hovering above the tablet, not touching it a single time. Before, he would litter page after page with critiques, ranging from semantics and your choice of phrasing to the way in which you would reference relevant works. The list of adjustments had been endless, but instead of deterring you, like it had done for your peers, it ignited a foreign motivation. You wanted to prove that you were better. That, give you one piece of advice, you would move ten steps forward and soar. This drive had been your saving grace as it helped you forget prior failure. Prevented unnecessary worry. Along with the fervent wish to impress your tutor came the consistency and dedication to the subject necessary for you to pass with flying colours. In a way, Hongjoong had made you. Crafted who you needed to be in the span of a few weeks. And permanently etched himself into your psyche.

The blank state of the page was a testament to just how intertwined you were, tied together so tight you could barely breathe. You would not be surprised if you moved in synchronicity, and your hearts beat at the same rhythm. All the usual words had already been spoken, leaving behind an electrifying atmosphere that needed a new, symbiotic approach. A fresh start. An unspoken agreement seemed to pass between you and Hongjoong, as with one final spin of the pen-like accessory, he returned it to the built in holder in the casing, and clicked the tablet locked. You paid unnecessarily close attention to the darkening of the screen, until you realised that the man beside you was doing the exact same, and you accidentally locked eyes in the reflection. The fraying edge of your notebook’s cover was suddenly beyond interesting, and you darted to fixate on the miniature tears. You demonstratively picked at the faux leather binding to expose a tiny portion of the cardboard underneath, and waited for Hongjoong to continue. He was yet to comment, but took it upon himself to stop the nervous motion by placing his hand over yours, and lightly shaking his head.

The innocent gesture, gone as fast as it had happened, did the opposite of soothing you – instead of the ticking of the clock, you were listening to the adrenaline-fuelled heartbeat, a staccato resonating in the eardrums. All you were hoping for was that you were not prudish enough to let blush coat your cheeks from a mere few seconds of contact. But your yearning was slowly becoming more and more of a problem, now that his leg was pressed against yours. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Hongjoong remained outwardly unperturbed, though the same could not be said for his inner world – that slight reaction from you, one that he was able to detect only because he was searching for it, was enough to set him ablaze and reeling. He needed to slow down if he wanted this to go according to plan. The now continuous touch was enough for the time being - discreet enough to not be outwardly suspicious, but if his investigation and desires were to align, a respectable next step.

“Good. Very good, now let’s take that apart, shall we?” he praised, and leaned on the table with his elbow, facing you. You were curious about what exactly did he actually want to take apart. “You mentioned human agency. Care to elaborate on what that means?”

An instinctive reach for your notes – a desperate cry for support from your brain that was currently going haywire, was cut short by a soft reprimand from your not quite tutor, not quite something more. He encouraged you to be a bit more patient, stating as a matter of factly that this was something you should be able to recollect without assistance. Maybe if you were being assessed by anyone else, just not him. Hongjoong was visually ravaging you, more and more of you, with each passing minute, and you were afraid that soon enough, you would lose control. You wanted to allow yourself to melt under his gaze, to sink into his momentary touches and feel more than just the enticing heat emanating from his body.

Back and forth, the two of you exchanged one fact after another, not once veering off into any other territory except self-development theory. However, within it, your communication had transformed into something a lot less bland for your excited tastes. In a brazen manner, Hongjoong navigated you through a myriad of themes, maintaining a level of seductive ambiguity that was sufficient to keep you guessing and riled up.

It was an odd stroke of luck, how you had been assigned to the one teaching assistant and postgraduate student who was your favourite eye candy during the lectures. He had agreed to attend only a few in the very beginning of the series, since he much preferred to follow his own rhythm, but had stolen your focus at once. Following a disastrous mock test, it was only common practice for your department to assign you to a senior buddy – even if they initially protested and explicitly, in your presence, rejected the deal. Had that been hurtful? Only a little, dissipating in a blink, especially since it led you to where you were now. With forty-five minutes having past, breathing shallowing out into haphazard gulps, and conversation deeply dedicated to extrinsic and intrinsic motivation.

Hongjoong currently had one arm resting on the back of your chair, almost embracing you, and the other gliding with a pen over your notebook, sketching out the diagram of the self-determination continuum from memory. While he was concentrating, you were indulging in the closeness, no longer as engaged in what he was explaining – you had shutdown some time ago, choosing to admit your fervid attraction towards him, at least to yourself. It was comical how you still could hum in agreement at all the right times, nod, or tilt your head. A couple of times you had even mustered a pout, which had made Hongjoong noticeably still.

“…Y/N.” he roughly called you out of your daydream, eyebrow raised. He was obviously unamused, but you could see something contradictory between his actions and the picture painted in his dark orbs. You could almost believe that he had been waiting for a slip up like this, an opportunity to scold you, to really teach you a lesson. “You know I don’t like it when you misbehave and do not listen.”

He could have used passive terms, different pronouns, phrased the comment differently, but no. This was Hongjoong we were talking about. The Hongjoong with his eyes glazed over, resisting the impulse to pounce on you then and there, hanging on by a thread of professional theory. There was not much other proof that he required from you, as you were obvious enough. It did give him a level of satisfaction to know just how severely he could affect you, however, his charms turned out to be a double-edged sword. The more responsive you became, the more intensely his desire resonated.

“But I was…” you trailed off, arguing just for the sake of it.

“Then repeat what I just said.”

“Uhm, that the motivation is regulated by means of punishment on one side,” you slowed your speech, raising one hand to point at the left side of the unfinished diagram with a perfectly manicured nail, “and inherent satisfaction on the other.” Your tone exposed your goal of making the explanation into a euphemism and made Hongjoong bite his lower lip. You were catching up to him in your guesswork, weren’t you?

You yearned for Hongjoong to act before you did something indecent. So, you eagerly played along. If he wanted you to be a little more needy, you were more than happy to oblige and act clueless. Anything for this hour to become an eternity.

You felt a hand being placed on your exposed thigh, between your skirt and boot, then slowly, tentatively, it moved up, closer and closer to the checkered fabric. Fingers flittered across your skin and made it under the material, stopping only right at the sensation of having found the concealed lace. As his other hand let go of the pen to cup your chin and direct you to meet his darkened, sultry gaze, you let out a soft gasp, and shifted your hips just a little, to highlight to yourself that he could have you right where he wanted, and you were ready to beg for it.

“Not quite. But of course, this is something you want to focus on, you…” he hesitated to continue the sentence, choosing to prolong the silence, and keep you frozen in place.

“You… what?” you tried to coax the inevitable change out of him. This limbo could not be left to remain between you.

“…need…” he forced out, fighting himself. Holding back. You felt the pressure on your jaw weaken, so you took to nudging his thumb out of position, making it graze your lips.

“Need?” you repeated after him and waited for a continuation. After a second, ten, thirty, you realised that Hongjoong was peeking at the omnipresent timekeeper above the blackboards.

It was the hour. It had not even crossed your mind, since normally it would be the duty of an obnoxiously loud alarm on Hongjoong’s phone to alert you. But today, it was dead silent. He was so unlike the tutor you had interacted with before, but so like the man who you wanted to belong to. You tuned into the ticking and the heat building up inside you. Leaning in closer, with the tension between your bodies having reached unprecedented heights, you fluttered your eyelashes a few times, formed a cute smile and made a simple request that you knew would be the trigger:

“Please, Joongie, can you help me revise?” the nickname made his cognition fuzzy, so he remained conflicted and held back.

“Shit, Y/N. You are making things really hard for me, you know that?” he breathed out, turning to peer at you through half-lidded eyes. In flash of confidence after being humoured by the phrase you reached out to put a hand on Hongjoong’s chest, tracing a line with a finger, all the way down until you reached the waistband of his trousers, and toyed with the golden buckle of what had to be a rather pricey belt.

“Oh yes, I do. Much like you know that I am in dire need of motivation.” enveloped in an uncontainable lust, Hongjoong let go of your chin, positioning his hand right on the back of your head, fingers snaking themselves through your hair, and pulled you in until you were a mere couple of centimetres away.

“Are you sure, pet?” his exhale was hot on your skin, and you tilted yourself into him, impatient with this back and forth.

“You sure ask a lot of questions, Joongie-”

Any further retorts were cut off by Hongjoong taking off his glasses and closing the space between you and crashing his lips with yours. You barely had time to react as he gave your hair a slight tug to angle you for a deeper kiss. There was no longer any pressure against your thigh, as instead, his arm had slinked around your waist, and was urging you to slide even closer. Without much resistance you let yourself be guided, twisting yourself and letting the seat which you had occupied return to its folded state before lifting a leg and moving to straddle the handsome brunette.

Though you now had a certain advantage, with Hongjoong having to tilt his head up a little, it did nothing to change just how quickly you unravelled at his touch. It felt like a hallucination, finally getting a taste of what you had been craving for too long. But, despite the fact that you were here, revelling in this united intimacy, it was not enough. A greed had awoken within you alongside the building unrefined high, provoking you to give into the animalistic hunger and quit pretending. Remnants of your usual elegance evaporated as the temperature rose, leaving the real, primal you. The tantalising possibility of having the numerous scenarios occupying the inner conscious erased your ability to form any coherent thoughts. You wanted to be capable of only one thing now, and that was devoting yourself to the man whose saliva was sending you into a frenzy. The man who was physically under you, but you constantly struggled to reach. The man who had you wrapped around his finger.

"Hongjoong..." you sighed into the kiss, earning a hum from your seducer.

Masterfully, without breaking away from the electrifying contact, he began to unbutton your silk blouse, only stopping once to admire you, whispering a string of praises. Each one cemented itself within you, as though it was novel, unheard of. It was reminiscent of a scientific discovery, like those words had no significance to you before he carefully selected them in your address. It wasn't long before your top was shrugged off, and found a home under Hongjoong's seat, having you remain only in your bra. You had ensured that every Wednesday, you were to dress your best at every layer, if not for exposure, then at least for confidence. And now it paid off, as your target audience slid his hands with the attentiveness of an examiner across from your abdomen to your chest, halting at the solar plexus.

Hongjoong leaned back to appreciate how worked up you already were, on the verge of mewling like a kitten for him to give you more. Before you could say anything, he manoeuvred to unclasp the article. The suddenness of the motion made your teeth click together, but instead of deterring you only added fuel to the fire in your core. Now having full access to your breasts, he did not hesitate to cup them in his hands, unrestrained, and proceeded to knead them, paying special attention to your aroused nipples with a few methodical flicks and teasing pinches. You were putty in his hands, fading into moans muted by Hongjoong’s tongue grazing your canines, exploring you.

His hands traced the contours of your body, gliding down to your hips and pulling the skirt further up until it was a flimsy accessory that left nothing to the imagination. Roughly grabbing your ass, he moved up towards you as you grinded once, twice, until you were on the growing bulge underneath his trousers. As soon as you were flush against him, you own movement growing sloppier by the second, he tilted his head back just a little and hissed by your cheek:

“So fucking selfish, baby girl. Demanding all this attention from me.” He moved to plant a kiss on your earlobe, nipping at the cartilage. You let out a shaky breath, returning the sensation by peppering a series of kisses across the side of his face, stopping right at the corner of his plump lips.

“You’re making me feel so good, Joong-” your hunger was not subsiding as you tried to capture his mouth with yours, only to be rejected by a harsh comment:

“That’s Sir to you, pet.”

“I knew you liked it when I-”

“One more word out of that pretty mouth of yours and I am not going to be so nice.” Hongjoong warned you, sternly, a hint of aggression behind his words. This made you wonder how he would be if completely enraged. Perhaps you would find out someday, but this time around, you wanted to try your best to be a good girl for him.

“Anything to help me learn my lesson…” you paused to glance into Hongjoong’s eyes, as wild as yours, “…Sir.”

“Little troublemaker trying to be the teacher’s pet?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Then tell me, what’s intrinsic motivation again?” he smirked as he kissed your jawline and breathed right against the side of your neck, making you whine. He took great pleasure in seeing how your head rolled back as he found a particularly sensitive region, and after giving it a quick introductory peck, began to hungrily devour, sucking and nipping at the skin until it grew a new shade of pink.

“Mpfh- this-” you gasped as he moved to treat another area with the same affection, peppering kisses across your collar bone and jugular.

“Well, isn’t that just lovely. So desperate to be satisfied that you are willing to do anything. Well tell me, what do you need to do to get what you need?”

“Anything?” a sharp slap resounded when his palm made contact with your ass, accompanied by a yelp from you. You had to steady yourself by grabbing onto Hongjoong’s shoulders, and refrain from shaking.

“Try harder, baby girl. As if I’d give you the answer just like that.”

“Make you… feel so good…”

“Lacking in originality, but I’ll give it to you. Well done, you’re catching on. Never disregard the extrinsic, Y/N. We all want motivation.” He dropped his voice low, mocking your earlier words, and planted one more kiss right on your collarbone, taking a couple of seconds to commit his artwork on your skin to memory.

You felt him adjust his positioning, and wrap his arms around your thighs, somehow managing to move you even closer to him. It was impossible to ignore your own arousal, as well as his that you could feel through your own panties, while in one effort, he carefully rose from his seat and planted you in front of him, right on the table. The desks were probably the newest addition to the lecture hall, having been completed out of a sturdy fibreboard. But that also meant that they barely registered any changes in temperature and shocked you with their coolness against your exposed flesh. When Hongjoong set you down on, he reached for the soaked material of your panties, tugging on the waistband a couple of times.

“But I like to lead by example, pet. I want to show you how I want you, and how you should want me.”

You were about to give a feeble response, but it got caught inside your throat along with a gasp for air, as you were overwhelmed by the feeling of Hongjoong’s fingers going under the fabric, along your sensitive folds and deep into your pussy. Taking it slow, he let his fingers glide right back out, now coated with your nectar, and he took to massaging your blooming clit, rubbing the region unhurriedly, only to move right down between the lips once more, and up again.

You desperately needed him inside you, and attempted to encourage this by bucking your hips just a bit towards him, but to no avail, as with his free hand he grasped your hip roughly, and tugged you back to the table. Once he decided that you were ready, Hongjoong easily slid his nimble digits inside, up to his knuckles, and commenced their ecstasy-inducing pumping at a steady pace, albeit slow for your preferences. But you knew better than to complain when your desires were still progressively being fulfilled.

“Look at you, pretty girl, so fucking wet for me already,” he picked up his speed, enjoying how rapidly that forced a lewd moan out of you and caused you to lean forward, seeking stability in Hongjoong’s body. With your foreheads pressed together, and your breaths becoming shakier, he continued to taunt you, “See how willing you are to bow to me?”

“Yes, shit, please, just don’t stop-”

“Enthusiastic, are we? Well, remember this for how I will quiz you later by seeing how you treat me. I want you to imprint this in your mind. Every damn second. How well your tight cunt takes to me, how you crumble beneath me.”

“Yes Sir-ah!”

He curled his fingers and stepped closer towards you, his body turned a little off to the side. The pulsing of his still-clothed erection against your leg, as well as the stimulation he was giving to your sex was making you see stars. You had dreamt of this for so long and were not holding back in letting Hongjoong know of your pleasure by the pants and hushed yelps that escaped your open mouth. Music to his ears.

“You’re such a slut for this, so fucked out from just my fingers. I bet you have thought about this before, haven’t you, Y/N?”

“Oh fuck yes, Sir, yes I have, I…” you could not finish your sentence as he began to pump at an even faster rate than before. The knot that had formed in your stomach since the beginning of the ‘tutorial’ you had together, which turned out to be prolonged intellectual foreplay, was now growing unbelievably stronger, and stronger, coiling light a metal spring.

“I’ll let you in on a secret – I have wanted to see you like this, squirming underneath me, for just as long.”

Though his words were an unabashed expression of salaciousness, you could read a genuine affection in his eyes. You could almost guarantee that there was a life, perhaps even a love beyond this common indulgence in carnality. At least you wanted to believe that that was the case, even though your focus was also fully lust-riddled, and your high was fast-approaching.

“Every time you would follow me with your eyes as I excited the room, or how you would shamelessly flirt with me though I did not give anything back… you really are so needy. Practically begging to worship me, huh?”

“Y-yes…” your speech was faltering, and you locked your hands behind Hongjoong’s neck, unable to stabilise yourself alone any longer. Your climax was imminent.

“Dreaming of when you could have all of me to yourself… so fucking dedicated. Do you think you deserve a reward?”

“You… decide… Sir…” you choked out, resting your head against the crook of his neck, inhaling his inebriating scent.

“Such a good girl, that’s right. I do decide. And because you are being so obedient, I am treating you this well. How does that make you feel?” He teased, purposefully employing the overused phrase. It made you recall where you were exactly, and just what you were doing, the shame spurring you on.

“Thank you, sir- ah!”

“Grateful, is that right?” voice husky, he confirmed.

“Yes… mmh, fuck yes please-”

You were drawing a blank – if before you were at least able to state a few words in an order that made sense, now you were approaching the edge of complete ruin and could no longer contain yourself. An intense warmth was spreading all through your lower half, shooting outwards to every neuron in your body, down to your toes, contracted in pleasure, and all the way to your dishevelled locks. Only a couple of seconds ago did shame flash before you, accusing you for whoring yourself out so impatiently and desperately inside a university classroom, but Hongjoong had a talent for making you forget. If he kept at it, you would even forget your own name. He was pumping faster and faster, his arm muscles tightening along with your grip on his blazer, crumpling the material. It was only a matter of seconds, your breathing shallowed, moans grew breathier – if you were a gun, then Hongjoong was about to pull the trigger. You shut your eyes on instinct, expecting the rolling waves of a climax to hit you, but-

Your ‘small death’ never arrived. With a whine you sent a confused glare in Hongjoong’s direction, searching for an answer, any sign from him. This was not fair. You needed his attention back this instant, how dare he cut this euphoria? Why was he so intent on driving you to the verge of insanity? You did not have a single chance to complain, nor to initiate payback, as Hongjoong groaned and picked you up, manhandling you to the ground. Astonished, you stayed compliant.

The carpeted floor did not bring much comfort, the artificial fibre digging into your bare back, and the whiff of an amalgamation of industrial cleaner and something similar to puddle water made you scowl. A look to the side revealed a pencil, evidently forgotten by a student from one of the classes earlier that day, but was still better than facing Hongjoong's unreadable expression as he hovered above you. He appeared to be listening out for something, a suspicion confirmed when you were about to speak, and he pressed a hot finger against your lips, making you state yourself while simultaneously silencing you.

“Not. A. Single. Sound. You hear me?”

You merely nodded, unsure of how else to respond. Not when Hongjoong appeared so frustrated. Only once he rose up, pushing himself up using the table did you manage to pick apart the sound of conversation from outside of the hall. There appeared to be a group of students passing by, taking their sweet time. In an efficient manner, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his fingers. From your angle, though you could not exactly tell, but it appeared that the ghost of a smirk was dancing on his features. It did not take much deduction to figure out that he was enjoying the humiliating state you were in, your own horniness trapping you in a need to follow his orders.

As if to emphasize this, he picked the seat right above you to plant himself in, effectively masking you from view and leaving you quite literally at his feet. You noticed that Hongjoong had returned to his regular demeanour, calm and collected, unlocking his tablet for full effect, and behaving as though you were not there at all. As one final alteration to the scene, he tossed your belongings into your bag which was now right by your head and began to take some abstract notes. It was at that moment that you heard the foreign conversation get louder, and in a couple of seconds, the door being clicked open to reveal some unfamiliar faces.

After spotting Hongjoong seated in the very centre of the second row, looking very authoritative, aura occupying the entire room, they cowered back into the corridor, with just one of them remaining to prop the door open and call out to him.

“Sorry, is there something happening in this room?”

“Oh, sure is.” he uttered, pretending as though his focus on some incredibly important task was broken, and he was doing the group a favour by entertaining their pesky inquiries.

The attitude carried across effectively, as the student lowered his head sheepishly, but not enough to prevent them from raising their arm to motion towards the back of the hall and ask one final time:

“So, it’s fully booked? We can’t sit… like… up there?”

“Booked. And I am afraid you cannot.”

Waiting through this exchange was becoming unbearable, and each second was equivalent to an eternity amidst your arousal. Careful to not disturb the man above you, nor the items strewn across the floor, you gingerly moved your legs closer together, and inched your hand to your sensitive bud, seeking for more stimulation and what you deemed to be a well-deserved release. You did not realise just how sensitive you were, for as soon as you grazed the area, you practically let out a whimper, the only thing stopping you was you slamming a palm over your mouth on instinct. Trying to emulate Hongjoong’s motions, mind replaying the scenes from only a few minutes ago, you were easing yourself into self-gratification, abdominal muscles tightening. But this build-up did not last long either, as through your blurred vision, you noticed Hongjoong glowering at you, eyes turned daggers. Not long after, a new pressure found itself on the back of your hand and on your pelvis in the form of his lacquered moccasin. It was a raw, hateful move that degraded you to nothing but an object to be stepped on, but something about the forcefulness and intent made you desire for the charming, devious man to do it again.

“If you check out the department library there is normally some space. You aren’t in psychology, right?” he turned his attention back to the student across the room, ignoring your existence aside from a nudge for you to remove your hand from your still-dripping pussy, which you, albeit with hesitation, did.

“You are right, we do history, but our building’s packed so we ventured out.”

“Ah, then let me point you in the right direction.” He began to rise, making a show out of the inconvenience their intrusion was causing, exaggerating his body language; before he could fully stand up straight, however, the student stopped him and apologised profusely, settling for a couple of verbal pointers. You were astounded by Hongjoong’s ability to swiftly manipulate the environment and the people around him – equal parts dangerous and impeccably professional. He could make a home in anyone’s psyche, especially yours.

Once the disturbance had disappeared from the vicinity of the hall, Hongjoong rose from his seat and made his way swiftly to the door, slamming it shut; you remained still, mind hazy from the brush with almost being caught in your lecherous performance. You recognised the clicks that followed as him locking it, and a rustling as him rolling down the blind for the miniature built in window. There was no way you were going to be disturbed now. The world narrowed in, no longer escaping the boundaries of antiquity harboured in the theatre. Even the clock, still carrying out its duties, no longer held the same overbearing meaning.

“At any point in time, did I say that you could touch yourself without my permission? Or are you so filthy that you want to gather a crowd?” his question hung in the air, as he, seething, returned to the row. Raising your head slightly, you could now see just how turned on he was, with his erection almost threatening to burst out of his trousers, and a hint of discomfort on his face as he continued to storm down to you, stopping when his feet hit your boots. It was incredible how much restraint he had shown up until this point, but the temporary loss of control, and your light naughtiness was the final straw.

“Get the fuck over here.”

He roughly grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you to the front of the hall. He looked positively livid, but simultaneously, there was a burning desire within him to just have his way with you. The longer he kept at prolonging your lack of stimulation, the more agonising his arousal became until he could not take it anymore and needed you to take care of his problem. As he shoved you to centre stage, giving your ass a couple of well-placed smacks strong enough to leave redness, he began to unbuckle his belt.

When you stood in front of him, he caressed your cheek with one of his hands, only to switch it to a tight hold around your throat, so unexpected that you could not restrain a yelp. Pressing in his thumb until he could feel the contours of your larynx, he watched as you shuddered in pleasure at the change in treatment. You really were phenomenal.

“On your knees.” He pushed you down, letting go and dragging a finger up to your chin, and soon enough you were looking up at him, eyes glazed over with a fiery lust, spelling total submission.

“You have just been taking, and taking, and taking. That’s not quite fair, is it? And on top of that you are being so unbelievably naughty, that I am not sure what to do with you.”

“Forgive me, Sir, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh yes, you did. You can’t control yourself. Need it all at once. I do not think I can let go of that too easily. You need to make it up to me.”

Dragging the belt out, he took a step closer to you, taking a deep breath in. In contrast to his spitting accusations, he very carefully moved your hair out of the way as he wrapped the belt around your throat, hooked it through and tightened it until it took on the appearance of a leash. He gave it a few tugs to check for your response, giving you a lewd grin once you nodded and mumbled the ever so sweet:

“Please.”

Dragging you until you were only centimetres away from his barely concealed member, he gestured for you to finish undressing his lower half. With a quick nod you rushed to unbutton and unzip the clothing.

“Convince me that I shouldn’t just leave you here like the desperate whore you are, since you are so self-determined.” You bit back a response, as you slid Hongjoong’s underwear down, and were more than pleased with the sight before you. Yes, you indeed were a whore for this man.

Taking the throbbing cock into one of your hands, you rubbed the ample amount of precum across its entire length, giving special attention to its base, which elicited a satisfied hiss from Hongjoong, and a lazy tug on the accessory around your neck. Understanding it as a silent command to hurry up, you leaned in and licked the tip, glancing up and batting your eyelashes as though you were the picture of innocence.

It drove Hongjoong wild, watching you as your mouth took over, with your tongue caressing the member up and down while you adjusted to his size. You had not even taken him in fully yet, and he was already concerned with just how desperate he was for more. Unable to sustain the leisurely pace which you had selected, he took a fistful of your hair with his free hand and tightened the belt with the other, yanking you back until just his tip was between your lips, to peer into your eyes. There you were, all pretty, jaw slackened to take him in, terrified that you had done something to wrong him any further. Hongjoong chuckled, high off the control he had, and in one swift motion shoved his length into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, making you choke momentarily and have tears spring to your eyes.

“Do you think your sorry attempts are eloquent enough? I need to see better than that.” He challenged between laboured breaths, holding you in place.

The contraction of your throat, every shudder from your body, and finally, the vibration you emitted when you hummed in understanding before beginning to bob your head back and forth were unbelievable, overriding any fantasy he had developed before experiencing the real you. The stark difference between the you – a diligent student, an attentive tutee, a young, classic lady, and the you – a sex-driven fiend, an adorably acquiescent star of his consciousness, a vixen hidden behind a supposedly pure image, was making the sight even more addictive.

“Aahh… fuuuck, baby girl…” he muttered as you aided yourself with your hands, one running over and massaging his balls, while the other remained at the base, providing a rhythmic, slow pump.

Instinctively, Hongjoong rolled his hips to further speed up the movement; this time you were ready to take it, mouth widening and tongue lapping at his delicious cock, now lubricated by your hot spit. Your eyelids were growing heavier as your own desire began to build once more. The moans that the man was trying to muffle so as to not lose his sanity to you while he throat fucked you were a haunting melody to your ears that you undoubtedly would be hearing for weeks on end. You needed to be good to him and coax out a crescendo, you did have forgiveness to beg for, didn’t you?

The heat inside your core was growing steadily, making you squeeze your kneeling legs together to provide at least some support. The action did not go unnoticed by Hongjoong who let out an airy chuckle and brushed some stray hairs out of your face.

“You really are such a slave to my dick, aren’t you? Eating it up… such a good cocksleeve…” the words inspired you to go faster, seeking for more praise to fall from your master’s lips. He gripped the belt for dear life, making the friction around your neck rise, along with sinful sounds coming with each pump as you started deepthroating him almost entirely on your own, his hand that was on the back of your head merely following along with your motions.

He could sense that he was getting close, the aching in his abdomen, tingling in his extremities turning his vision into a blurry mess that would unlikely be fixed even if he were to perch his lenses back onto his nose. But he was far from done with you, as much as he wanted to shoot strings of his cum into your oesophagus and watch you swallow it all like a good girl. Unwillingly he grabbed your locks again, and guided you away from him, nearly regretting it when he heard you whine. Like you were the one who was being pleasured. Truly, one of a kind. Breathless and pouting.

“Are you ready to deliver a presentation, baby girl?”

“What-” confused, you asked, but after being reminded by the choking of the belt, added “sir?”

“Tell me what fucking theory you follow,” he retorted, huffing, and made you get off the floor, “now, up, c’m’ere, pet.” Treating you every bit like an animal, he pulled on the makeshift leash and took you to the lectern, moving behind it and making you face the hall. Now that you were standing there did you realise just how vast the space was, how many ghosts of inquisitive eyes there were, one in each seat. How willing you were to put this show on and embed it into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Turn it into an altar of sin that you wanted to never leave.

“Bend over… that’s right, good girl.” He instructed you to lean forwards onto the wooden structure, and you automatically placed your hands on its edges. Spreading your legs, you enthusiastically gave Hongjoong access to your wet pussy, and sighed as he flipped your skirt up once again. Finally, you were about to get your fill.

You heard the crinkling of what could only be some kind of wrapper behind you, and glanced, curious. Hongjoong was in the process of rolling a condom over his rock hard member, shutting his eyes as he stimulated it. Smirking at you, he explained:

“See, I’ve been bringing these to all of our little meetings lately. There’s not enough time in the world to describe in just how many ways I want to ruin you, Y/N.” he chose to utter your name instead of the substitutes, voice dangerously low. He wanted you to remember this as a promise that he was not going to hold himself back anymore. Both of you wanted to live and fuck with no limits. You bit your lower lip, hiding a lustful grin.

“Show me an example, sir.”

That was enough for him to let go of the belt, leaving it to hit the lectern and dangle under you and take you roughly by the hips. Using one hand he positioned his cock right by your entrance, running it over your folds a couple of times, and without further hesitation pushed deep into you, bottoming out. Awestruck at how good you felt with your cunt clenched around him, he failed to stop a guttural groan from escaping him, which in turn made you respond with a few whimpers and a grinding of your backside, adding to his growing high. Slapping you back into submission, he pulled out fully, only to shove himself back in, revelling in the tightness of your walls.

“Don’t test me, sweetheart,” he warned barely present as he began to thrust with a slightly higher frequency, pressing himself flush against you every time.

You were barely remembering to breathe as Hongjoong’s pulsing cock was being pounded into you, stretching you out repeatedly. More on edge than ever before, you were feeling every touch, every graze, every exhale of his that could reach you. He was in a similar state, air knocked out of him as he rocked harder and harder into you until the temporary break after his prior build up was long gone. To curb the wave that was about to take over him, he bent closer to you. His clothing fell over your back as he teased your soaked pussy with his tip, it twitching from the contact. Missing the perfection that you offered, he could not keep up this game much longer, sliding his pulsating cock back between your soaked folds.

Beads of sweat were beginning to accumulate on Hongjoong’s forehead from the sheer heat of your bodies moving in tandem, your moans forming a harmony. The teasing was fanning the flames, the approach of your climax accelerating. He took the end of the belt again and tightened the collar-like hold it had on you, making your vision darken at the edges. Almost immediately he let go, intuitively knowing the limit of restriction. You adored the feeling of being his fuckdoll, existing as a vessel for the filthy noise your pussy was making as he continued to penetrate you. He moved a hand to your swollen clit to rub languid circles over it, and slammed his dick deeper into you, making you yelp at the heightened stimulation.

"Funny how autonomy is a basic need, and yet you are so willing to give it up for that same satisfaction. Are you that drunk off my cock that you lost rationality?

"Yes... Hong..joong... ah fuck! Sir!" You yelped when he suddenly bucked his hips upwards, delivering a particularly well aimed stroke that hit your g-spot.

As you gripped onto the lectern until your knuckles turned white, Hongjoong began to pick up his pace. He nudged one of your feet, a signal to spread wider, and placed one of his own on an elevated part of the platform, giving him a new angle, and fully unlocking the path to your orgasm. His touch was hot against your skin, with him continuing to abuse your overly sensitive bud, and the other surely leaving marks as he pressed his fingers into your waist.

“No more sirs, Y/N, aahhh shit, I want to- mfph, hear you scream my name. Yell who you belong to.” He commanded, going harder than ever. You tried to answer, but no sound came out of your mouth as you were enveloped in the ecstasy. He was immaculate, taking you apart how you had dreamt of him doing. Your arousal was unbearably close, and all you could think about was how Hongjoong’s cock was stuffing your sex, which was begging for release.

The knot in your stomach was about to burst; you followed the beautiful man’s demands and chanted his name like a mantra, fluctuating between barely audible and soaring to squeals at the top of your lungs, echoing right back at you and blending with Hongjoong’s carnal growls. He was catching up with you, his own desire starting to overflow. As your movements started to falter, he read you instantly, adjusting himself so that one arm was out to support you, while the other continued to help you in reaching that explosion of all senses. You grew completely silent as the awaited orgasm shook you, tightening all muscles, a knee-buckling attack, effectively immobilising you.

“Good girl, Y/N, come for me. Ah- you’re so damn beautiful.”

It was almost possible to count the constellations racing in your eyes from the overstimulation, which not even a forehead pressed onto the cool surface of the lectern could subdue. Your juices started to stream out of your overfilled pussy and treacle down your thighs. Hongjoong was entranced by how you were letting him enjoy you to the fullest, even after you have reached your peak. You were better than anything he could have hypothesised. You were his motivation.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m about to-” he mustered before it all hit him, and he pulled you into an embrace to prevent himself from shaking too violently, whispering ‘Y/N’.

Your aroma, the fucked out, glazed over haze written all over you was making him want to fall in love because shit, you were perfect. To reel himself back into reality he shifted his focus back to you, even though his member was still throbbing aggressively, hitting your leg as he side stepped away. He became ever so gentle, removing his belt from your throat and peppering kisses over your shoulders, your neck, your face. He retraced the love bruises he had left, now tenderly pecking each one.

“You’re so wonderful, you know that?” He mumbled into your ear, unsure if you could even register that he was speaking to you, but your soft hum proved otherwise. “Thank you, Y/N, my sweet,” planting a kiss on your cheek, and then turning you for another on your lips, he expressed his gratitude, and helped you down into a seated position at the base of the lectern when you stated you needed a moment to recover.

Your eyes followed Hongjoong’s form, as he waddled from the bin to dispose of the condom, to the box of tissues tucked away on a shelf by the door. While he cleaned himself up, and as soon as he was fully dressed, moved to wipe away your release, you pondered how this all unfolded. You had been incredibly silly to think he did not want you, that was certain. Even now, on a post-coital high he was taking care of you diligently, moving away only to rush to take your clothes from where you had thrown them. He was treating you like the most fragile, precious being on this earth, a total contrast to a few minutes ago.

The clock, abandoned by its previously dedicated followers, was still ticking away but you and Hongjoong did the impossible, and remained in your shared hour. That was all either of you wanted, and felt you needed. Your breathing levelled out, and you leaned back, letting both your hands drop to either side of you. Hongjoong joined you, and cautiously took one of them, intertwining your fingers together. In a soothing pattern he ran a thumb over the back.

“Thank you.” You finally managed, to which Hongjoong beamed, and squeezed your digits.

You sat together in silence, sinking into the dimming surroundings, at ease, blissful.

“So… same time next week?” you wiggled your eyebrows and chuckled.

“Let me take you out for dinner first, say tonight?”

“I’d love that… but, so soon?”

“Perhaps, but you motivate me.”

[malfiora]

Characterization Compendium

Key

Star sign: (canon vs. inspiration) traits from that sign that fit with this character

Canon = this is the character's sign based off their official/generally accepted birthday

Inspiration = this is the sign that this character reminds me of, and here's why

Colors are based off the elements each sign could be:

Air • Water • Fire • Earth

Batfam

Bruce

Walks the razor's edge between light and dark and develops an unhealthy but necessary dependence on his kids (particularly Dick) to stay grounded in the light.

Loves his kids, loves being around them, will never say this to them unless he's on the brink of death but there are signs. Loves them all equally but treats them differently based on personality, age, and background, which is often mistaken as him playing favorites (it's not).

Immutable personal moral code but demonstrates mental flexibility (or cognitive dissonance) toward others, especially his allies.

I go back and forth between Catholic, Jewish, and agnostic for him.

Pisces: (canon) works well with any other sign, creative, deeply emotional and intuitive, hates being inauthentic, shuts down when hurt or slighted, nonconfrontational (in relationships not in the field lol – he'd rather ignore the problem than have a difficult conversation about it)

Dick

Extremely observant, which manifests as intuition. This means that both his deductive reasoning skills and ability to read others are par excellence. In social settings, he won't vocalize this process (depending on the context he may not even realize he's doing it) but will react to whatever he reads. Others read this as charm (or intimidation).

Talent for leadership despite working more efficiently alone. Both his charisma and experience make people naturally turn to him, and a deep seated compulsion to meet others' expectations means he often does take the lead.

Relationships: Barbara is one of his best friends before anything else; Jason is his (the one he gave the mantle of Robin to, the person who first shifted his identity toward mentor/big brother); Tim is the first he got to mentor; Damian is the son-brother (the one he raised and dotes on)

Scorpio: (canon? inspiration) [I will die on this hill] charismatic, manipulative, deeply and darkly emotional (some may say broody), fiercely protective of loved ones to the point of avenging them, holds grudges probably longer than he should, will lash out when hurt but feel bad about it

Barbara

Used to dealing with men who have strong feelings about everything (i.e. Dick and Bruce) and not being taken seriously (first year or so as Batgirl, then later dealing with people's perceptions of her while disabled) so nothing phases her. Still, she has some insecurities, which she overcomes with sheer force of will that projects strength. Ultimately, she'd rather suffer in silence.

Doesn't completely agree with all of Bruce's ideologies (leading to some friction between her and Dick), especially around killing since her father's a cop. But they align enough to be allies. She respects Bruce and believes in Batman.

Aquarius: (inspiration) Follows her own inner compass, pulls away the more someone tries to control her, enjoys engaging in mental exercises

Jason

As Robin, he was constantly caught in the tension of living up to Dick's example and wanting to be considered his own person. He always treated Robin with reverence and tried to do everything by the book. His own trauma and Bruce's guilt have convinced them both that Jason was a "problem" – he wasn't. He took school and his material comforts seriously because he never had them, so he was a tidy kid and a great student. Critical thinking skills that he honed from reading classic lit.

As Red Hood, he's now torn between living his own life/principles and begrudgingly wanting to regain Bruce's trust/faith if not his love. (He's never lost Bruce's love, but he has yet to accept this.)

When he came back to Gotham, he was pissed that his death seemed to change nothing: Joker was still alive, Batman had a new Robin, and crime was still everywhere. He took matters into his own hands. He still believes his way is better than Bruce's but recognizes that it's futile to pursue his vision with the Batfam still around. If he thinks he can get away with it, he'll kill someone he thinks deserves to be killed (e.g. someone who hurts children, sexual assault perp)

Leo: (canon) headstrong, charismatic leader who attracts people to him even if he doesn't try/want to/understand why, can be insecure about why people like him (are they just using him/wanting something from him, or so they genuinely like him?), protective of those closest to him, he'll talk a lot of shit but it actually takes a lot to provoke him to act, but when he does it's vicious and you'll feel like you deserved it

(Additional context)

Tim

Burnt out gifted kid who was adultified as a teenager because he had to basically raise an adult (i.e. help piece together again Bruce's mental health). Middle kid syndrome – used to being ignored and uses it to his advantage. Often manipulates (or tries to) the others to enact some plan. Pretty shameless

Knows a lot of random stuff because it's helpful for a case but kinda clueless about anything else, great at deductive reasoning. Lives to terrorize Dick (sometimes) and Jason (always), while genuinely trying to be a good big brother to Damian and Duke.

I usually envision Tim as middle/upper class east/southeast Asian, which comes with a few features: private tutors, attending a private or magnet school, expected to go to college; additionally, some cultural practices that Tim doesn't take too seriously since his family is multi-gen American. He def has a jade Buddha necklace somewhere at home.

Libra: (inspiration) rigid sense of justice and morality, good judge of character

Cassandra

Doesn't speak often, preferring to listen and use nonverbals. Has strong opinions about things. Protective of her adoptive family, enjoys participating in shenanigans if only because she's included.

I want to learn more about Cass and think harder about how I want to write her, doesn't stop me from trying.

Taurus: (inspiration) strong opinions that take a lot of energy to change, reliable, trustworthy, stoic

Steph

Keeps things lighthearted but doesn't forgive very easily. She and Bruce have a shaky relationship due to his (perceived) lack of trust in her but she keeps things positive due to her love and respect for Barbara, Cass, and Tim.

Extremely resourceful, solid investigative and deductive reasoning skills, dedicated to the mission, fiercely loyal but also independent.

It can't be overstated how much I respect Stephanie's ability to fill a role, on top of her creating her own.

Sagittarius: (inspiration) down for adventure, has her own set of principles and doesn't follow people who don't adhere to hers or at least have their own, impulsive, good with money, regrets nothing

Damian

Projects self confidence, which is mostly authentic, but he has some deep insecurities around living up to the expectations and examples of everyone who came before him. Extremely independent but protective of those who rely on him / he cares about.

Inevitably acts like a child when it comes to mature topics, feeling strong emotions, and wanting to form connections with others (particularly caretakers). Strict vegetarian due to his respect for life, was raised Muslim and maintains some of the cultural practices.

Leo: (canon) Very much an August Leo – somehow attracts others to him regardless of how he feels about it, no need for external validation (although it's nice to hear), respects competence

Duke

Simultaneously has a lot to prove and needs no one's approval. He cannot sit by when he has the power to do something. Exercises probably the most emotional intelligence and self awareness of the Batfam. Doesn't fully see himself as part of the Batfam, and definitely feels guilty about being "chosen" when his other WAR friends were discarded

Def uses his Black card when it makes life easier or funnier for him. Similarly, he plays up being a metahuman to garner sympathy or whatever from the others. Deep down, he's insecure about his powers because he doesn't know many other folks with powers who can help him train.

Leo: (canon) charismatic leader who attracts people to him, independent, doesn't care about what people think of him because he knows himself, knows exactly how to be annoying

Miscellaneous

How the sibs see each other (post)

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive (please let me know if you've seen the preprint the article mentions. I'd like to read it and I'm having a bit of trouble finding it--and it's not linked in the article... XP)

By Greg Toppo

New working paper is believed to be the first to link weaker memory and diminished ‘flexible thinking’ skills to the pandemic’s academic downturn.

New research may help educators and families zero in on exactly how the COVID-19 pandemic caused such an unprecedented academic slump, suggesting that the culprit lies in something basic and crucial: children’s ability to think, remember and problem-solve.

And here’s a twist: The same core difficulties are bedeviling teachers too.

The findings, contained in a new working paper, are believed to be the first to identify brain changes as an explanation for why students have suffered, both inside and outside the classroom, since the pandemic drove millions out of the classroom.

Nancy Tsai, a Harvard University psychologist who studies the effects of stress on executive functions and who is the study’s lead author, said the new findings offer the first evidence to help us “understand the ‘why’” of the pandemic downturn — “what is actually causing all these issues that we’re seeing and talking about in the news.”

The paper, from the private tutoring firm MindPrint Learning, examines the cognitive skills of students nationwide and finds that, simply put, over the past several years, kids’ famously ever-changing brains have changed for the worse.

Since the pandemic’s onset, students across all ages and economic levels have begun to demonstrate weaker memory and “flexible thinking” skills — those represent the mental bandwidth needed for multitasking, shifting from one activity to another and juggling the day’s demands. But for a few groups, such as younger and lower-income children, the changes have been more profound.

They also show that their teachers’ brains are weaker in almost identical ways, which could help explain high rates of frustration and burnout. They suggest school districts have their work cut out for them if they want to keep their best employees on the payroll and returning to the classroom each fall.

Understanding the ‘why’ of pandemic downturn The data come from a large, widely-used assessment, the Penn Computerized Neurocognitive Battery, developed in 2013 at the University of Pennsylvania. It consists of a series of cognitive tasks that measure subjects’ accuracy and speed in several major cognitive domains, including working memory, abstraction, sustained attention, episodic memory and processing speed.

MindPrint has administered the assessment periodically to its clients over the past decade. The most recent rounds totaled 35,000 students and 4,000 teachers in 27 states.

By most measures, U.S. students are suffering. Last year, NAEP scores showed the average 13-year-old’s understanding of math dropping to levels last seen in the 1990s and reading levels dropping to 1971, when the test was first administered.

More recent research has shown that while older children are showing encouraging signs of academic recovery, younger kids aren’t making the same progress. Many students who weren’t even in a formal school setting when COVID hit are already falling behind — especially in math.

The Penn assessment found that children who attended elementary or pre-school during the pandemic and who are now 8 to13 years old showed the largest declines in memory.

“Younger kids haven’t really developed a lot of these core cognitive skills,” Tsai said. “It hasn’t solidified for them, either through development or just through practice in the classroom. And so younger kids are more vulnerable to these pandemic shifts.”

But students across all age groups showed worse flexible thinking, which researchers now theorize contributes to lower academic performance — as well as challenging behaviors.

Tsai said kids from lower income backgrounds were more vulnerable to these changes, specifically in verbal reasoning and verbal memory, than their higher income peers, with bigger declines in verbal scores, which are highly correlated with academic achievement in all subjects.

Adults in the study had similar declines in both memory and flexible thinking, possibly explaining higher reported levels of teacher dissatisfaction and low morale.

Nancy Weinstein, MindPrint’s CEO, said weaker flexible thinking isn’t necessarily a problem for experienced teachers who have developed strategies to cope with stressful situations and can modify plans on the fly. But those with less experience may be unable to change gears when lessons go astray or students act out in class. That may lead to higher teacher burnout.

Across the board, teachers’ skills suffered in areas such as verbal and abstract reasoning, spatial perception, attention and working memory, but they saw the greatest losses in verbal memory and flexible thinking.

“If we care about that, we need to know how to help them,” Weinstein said. “And there are some tried and true things you can do.”

She said schools should consider sharing data like this with teachers so they can understand that their frustration in class might not be due to students alone. That could make a big difference, she said, in “their willingness to put in the effort to change, as opposed to saying, ‘Why bother?’”

For students, Weinstein said, offering them more opportunities to practice skills with breaks and rest between study sessions could help. Schools should also consider “scaffolded memorization” techniques that break learning into chunks and address each individually.

Could such techniques help students — and teachers — regain a measure of pre-pandemic skills? Weinstein suggests the answer is “Yes.”

“The environment will matter, but certainly we can regain some of that if we do the right things,” she said. “And we know what the right things are to do.”

Crystal Green-Braswell, coordinator of staff wellness and culture for the Little Rock School District in Arkansas, said offering the Penn assessment to teachers and staff has helped many think more deeply about their work — and about their own thinking.

“People who have had the assessment will say, ‘Now, you know my processing speed is slower — y’all are going to have to give me a moment,’” she said.

That’s a huge change in a profession in which most workers have been asked “to take ourselves out of the equation and just get the work done,” Green-Braswell said.

She sees offering such insights to educators as part of “rehumanizing” teaching. “When we provide this kind of assessment and we provide this kind of space for folks to actually get to know themselves, we are humanizing this profession and helping people to realize, ‘You play a role. You play an active role. You matter.’ ”