#how to score full marks in essay class

[peterparkerr06]

For every student a question like “How to Write a Narrative Essay?” is a pain, and when it is a specific essay the pain grows to the next level. But to cure this pain, we have a team of experts at your fingertips.

Instant Assignment Help has created this video to help you prepare a perfect narrative essay with some of the most useful tips to your rescue. By using these 6 tips you are guaranteed to get amazing grades and top the class. You will learn all about ways to perfect your essays.

[oceansblvds]

I SENT THE ASK ABT TEACHER CORYO IM BEGGING YOU TO WRITE TA/PROFESSOR SNOW 😝

OKOKOK IM GONNA WRITE SOME HEADCANONS BUT I MIGHT HONESTLY EXPAND THIS INTO A FULL FIC BC im a whore!

warning(s): nsfw, obsessive behavior, lowkey an abuse of power

coriolanus, almost out of university, was selected to teach a higher level math class on the account of dr. gaul saying he needed a little bit more experience with teaching and leadership if he was to be head gamemaker. so, he was a TA, teaching under a professor but was basically given full rein with the class, as the professor seemed to focus more on research than teaching the class. the second he was in the lecture discussion, he saw you walk in. you were a junior, just a year under him in university and god were you beautiful. almost mouth wateringly so. it made him sick in the head at how pretty you were.

and gods above, you were smart, almost as smart as he was (though he wouldn't ever admit that) and it was clear that you liked him. you always smiled when he complimented your high scores on tests and quizzes, and would read the notes that he put in the margins of your essays with a glimmer in your eyes. he needed to talk to you, needed to be closer to you, and the only way that he could think of was to give you slightly lower marks on your essays and homeworks. never on a test, he would never want to drop your grade low enough for it to be concerning, but he did wait for you to stumble into his office hours. and you did. you asked him how you could do better on the material, and he told you that he'd help you.

he didn't have an office, only a classroom that he was lent during his office hours in the top floor of the math building. it was there that you would meet him, every tuesday and thursday, to go over problems. he liked the way that your lip would be bitten in between your teeth when you were looking at a particularly hard problem, or when you would look at him with your big doe eyes when you asked him for help. and whenever you asked him for help, he would lean closer, and explain it to you.

one day, he finally got the courage to make a move. you asked him for help and he placed his hand on your thigh, as if he was using it to keep himself steady as he leaned over. but instead of watching him explain on the paper, you kept your attention on his face. and then he pushed his hand further up your thigh, under your skirt, and you didn't stop him. your hand came to his and you pushed it up until it was cupping your pussy. he fingered you right then and there, hoping beyond hoping that no one else would walk into his office hours for help. the two of you made out while he fingered you, going as far as to press three fingers into you, with a squelching sound, your moans echoing through the room softly.

that became somewhat of a normal thing. you two always met during his office hours, until you decided to go to his home one day for some extra tutoring. it ended with you in his large bed with your legs spread, while he put his fingers in your mouth as he fucked you with such fervor that you were sure you were going to break.

sometimes when he was grading papers, you would slink under his desk and pull his cock out, spitting on the tip and bobbing your head up and down until he gave you the attention you wanted. he always fantasized about you doing this when he was teaching another class, with you working him with your mouth as he sat on his desk and no one else knew the wiser. he would have to try that with you one day.

lots of words like how dirty you were for sleeping with your teacher. "you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" "show me how good you've gotten" when you were riding him. "you probably fantasize about my cock in class, don't you?" it was all so derogatory. and other times he would praise you. he would tell you how smart and beautiful you were. he would let you cum when you got a problem right while he sat under the desk, eating you out. when you got a problem wrong, he would stop, and no amount of begging would get him to continue unless you continued your work.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for denying a student's entry into my class?

this story is a few years old, but I've been wondering about it for a while, so here's my submission. I (30M at the time) am a high school teacher. My school has an extension class that, when students first enter the school, have the chance to apply to. To get in, one has to pass a test. There are 2 parts, a math and an English, both of which I and 3 other teachers judge. If they pads the test, I am their math teacher.

When I was welcoming the test-takers in, I overheard 2 boys (about 14 years old) talking. One of them was talking to the other, who looked uncomfortable. I don't remember exactly what he was saying, but it was something very misogynistic and racist. This struck me off guard, as almost all the students in the school are very kind and accepting, so it's been a while since I'd heard something like that from a child's mouth. I didn't say anything about it, I don't remember why. When everyone was seated, I stood in front of them all and greeted them. This child, who was in the back row, stage whispered to his friend "Ew, an Asian!". A few people laughed uncomfortably and the boy grinned cockily. I didn't know what to say to that, so I just explained the test and left the room.

After, when I was looking over the tests, I stopped on the boy's English test. The prompt was to wrote about someone who inspires you. This boy had written 3 full pages about Andrew Tate and how he was inspiring because he could 'pull 9 girls at once' and was filthy rich. My most distinct memory of his essay was the text at the bottom of his plan for the essay, which read 'talk about how he knows women are inferior'.

I know I am meant to mark objectively, but at that moment I saw red and gave him a very low mark on the essay. Arguably his writing skills were average, and his math was very good, which would have been enough to get him into the class. Except, the other teachers grading him seemed to have the same ideas as me, and graded him low to average on his essay. His total score was not enough to grant him entry to the class.

I told my partner at the time this story while I was drunk a few weeks later, and she said I was wrong to have graded him so low and that I may have ruined his life. I don't regret what I did, but I just objectively want to know: AITA?

TLDR: I graded a boy low on a test so he couldn't get into the extension class because he was extremely misogynistic and unaccepting.

What are these acronyms?

[yupher]

earth-42 Miles Morales x GN! reader

The day it all started

or Drabble about how you and miles became close (kind of)

Warnings: Miles is aloof and distant thanks to his canon events in this universe. Reader is overbearing (just a tad) and has a one-sided rivalry with Miles. Mentions of blood and injuries. Mentions of death. Enemies to friends to??

P.S.: I wrote this with a male reader in mind, turned out gender-neutral and stick to it. English is not my first language so excuse any spelling or redaction mistakes. This is my first post yay!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

• Everything started in freshman year, you and Miles both won a spot in the prestigious private school Brooklyn Visions Academy.

• You’re both equally intelligent, having passed the entry test with perfect scores.

• You earned this.

• You’ve been academically competitive all your life, this opportunity was the way to prove your worth and you weren’t going to lose it.

• Miles didn’t want to go there, he preferred to stay at his old school.

• He didn’t need a bunch of snobby and stuck-up kids to look him weird.

• He also had a lot going on, his uncle granted him more responsibility on missions, and even helped him build his own mask

• He was chasing his full potential.

• You both were cranky at the beginning, not interacting with one another at all.

• He kept to himself, preferring to be alone rather than bothered.

• You seemed to attract people unintended, they drifted to you.

• You had a handful of acquaintances now, it became useful for team projects and other things.

The day you first interacted with Miles was a Tuesday, the routine was easy. You share History and social studies on the first block. You sit in the second row, he sits in the back.

Mister Fujita started the lesson with a brief summary of the latest class and told everyone the next mark would be an essay, done in duos. You rolled your eyes discretely- working with other people was simply troubling it only brought problems. While you thought of who would you ask to be with you the professor said he would be the one to make the pairs.

Miles was sitting with crossed arms, his usual resting face (that his mom told him numerous times was unfriendly) and his leg bouncing up and down. He was on edge. Today was the anniversary of his father's death. He wasn't exactly putting a lot of attention to what the Professor was saying, only coming back from the deep of his thoughts when he heard his name being called.

Alongside yours.

You could only sigh in frustration, turning around to look for him between the numerous students. To your surprise, his hard gaze was already on you, it made you shiver slightly. You fixed your eyes on the board as Mr. Fujita kept giving the directions for the essay. You dammed yourself, knowing you couldn't escape this.

When the professor sent everyone to organize the essay with their pair at the end of the lecture, you grudgingly stood up to go and talk with Morales. You ignored the pitiful looks some of your classmates sent you, it was futile to give them any more reasons to pity you right now.

Stopping in front of his seat, you made an effort to look at him. Again his eyes found you first, following you since you raised from your chair.

“I have a free period from 12 to 2- if you have the time we can go to the study hall to sort this out.” your words sound robotic. As if you studied them a hundred times to make them sound as neutral as possible.

Miles was fidgeting with his pencil, hardly paying you any mind. He seemed nonchalant as always and it bothered you. You were about to talk again when he interrupted you. “I also have that block free.” was his only response, eyes unmoving and unbothered by your presence.

“Good.” it was dry, your lips a thin line as you nodded. God, what was his deal? “Don't be late.” was the last thing you said before going back to retrieve your things and leave for your next class.

As you left the classroom with everyone else, Miles observed unblinking your every move. He could feel the headache you were about to be for the next week.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

11:56 am

You strode through the hallways, not wanting to be late for your study meeting and give Miles the satisfaction of winning this.

As you rounded a corner you collided with a hard surface. You bounced a few steps back but not enough to make you fall, you huffed and smoothed over your uniform jacket. “I'm sorry for the-” words died on your tongue. Miles stood there, staring rigidly. He only gives you a once-over and enters the study hall, you tail after him with notorious displeasure. He sits at an empty table and starts to pull his things out of his backpack. You mimic him and pull out the course books, opening them to show him some topics of interest.

“I thought we could focus on the lack of civic infrastructure in the country-” Miles couldn't bring himself to listen to your babbling. He was tired, eyebags dark and present on his drained face. Sleep didn't come as easy as it used to.

His only focus was trying to leave unnoticed after your meeting, to go to his uncle's flat. He couldn't concentrate today, he needed something else to try and distract him from the simmering agitation in his chest.

You stopped talking a minute ago, noting his absent stare and the way he didn't even knowledge your attempts to make this project work, he was just sitting there, ignoring you completely.

He was taken back to the present when he saw your infuriated stare and your hand waving in front of him. “Did you even listen to what I said?” your tone was surely a clue, you were mad.

“I didn't-” “No, you didn't listen to anything I said for the past ten minutes. If you don't want to work through this essay with me I'm fine doing it alone- believe me, I'll do better without you weighing me down.” Both of you were breathing heavily, the tension palpable for all the students that were close enough to hear you.

“If you want to procrastinate you won't do well, trust me, Morales you'll-” Miles only saw red. He didn't process what happened till he saw the blood flowing down your nose.

The rest came in a blur.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He was looking at you with narrowed eyes, maybe thanks to the bruise that was starting to take form on his left side, or maybe was the loathing he felt at the moment. Busted lip and black eye, his uncle would laugh at his face for letting you land those punches at him.

You weren't meeting his gaze, instead, you focused on keeping your nose tucked down, a cloth on your nostrils preventing more blood to stream down. There was blood on your jacket and shirt, on your trousers, and even on your socks. You could feel his burning gaze on you, he was fuming.

You were sitting outside the principal's office, his mom and your dad inside talking while you waited. Everyone that passed by could guess what happened between you two. The rumors started to flow through the school hallways, they weren't any good.

Miles felt foolish, how could his feelings get a hold of him like that? He was an idiot. But the anger he harbored toward himself was also directed at you, you and your big mouth- never ceasing. He never put that much attention on you, he knew that both of you were new at the academy but he never engaged in conversation with, well- anyone.

Meanwhile, you were having a mental breakdown. You'll probably get expelled. All the hard work; the sweat, the tears, the blood. Was for nothing. Down to fucking dust. Were you dramatic? A little, but it was your academic future you were talking about. It WAS that serious. The taste of iron left on your mouth felt utterly appalling at the moment. A constant reminder of your irrational thinking that lead you right here, sitting in front of the asshole that broke your nose.

Finally you gazed up at him, his injuries angrily adorning his already threatening look.

“¿Qué mierda miras?” he pointed his chin towards you, hushedly as he tried to contain his wrath.

The door opened before you could answer him, both your parents leaving while the principal escorted them out.

It was dead silent, each one leaving with their respective guardian. You sent a last look to the other, filled with resentment.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Speed fast to next Tuesday

You woke up early to try and explain to Professor Fujita why you were turning in the essay alone. Uniform clean and tidy, you left in utter silence wishing you didn't wake up your roommate.

When passing the massive windows of the academy, you glanced at your reflection. Your eyebags were no longer bruised, nose looked better than before- that's what your dad said at least. Even if you tried to forget what happened a week ago the remnants of the brawl still taint your face. It was the fight for a great part of the school population and suddenly, everyone knew your name! How vapid they were to only care about quarrels between students. Maybe it was because Miles also didn't divulge anything about what happened in the study hall- the secrecy of it all peaking their attention.

And Miles, you avoided him any chance you got even in the classes you shared; you arrived first and left first, didn't spare him a glance even. The reality was you were ashamed of your behavior that day. After a day of pondering and a long scolding from your father, he told you about how dreadful that day was for Miles and explained to you what happened for him to act that way. It only deepened your shame. You didn't know how to apologize to him for that, you didn't know how to begin. So you decided to avoid him, he probably didn't want to see you anyways. He most definitely hated your guts.

When you arrived at the classroom you weren't at all surprised it was empty, you'll wait for Mr. Fujita anyway. What did surprise you though was seeing Miles come a minute after you, the sun casting on his face and making his eyes squint. The black of his eye was no longer visible, the only leftover of the fight was the scarred bottom lip you gave him. You rapidly fixed your eyes on your table, nervously waiting for him to make his way to the back of the room. But he never did. Instead, he dropped his backpack on the table beside yours, pulling the chair out to sit down.

Miles looked towards you only to see your eyes glued to the wooden table, he raised his brows and exhaled loudly. He could swear he saw you glance his way. He turned his body in your direction, eyes focused.

“Hey.” he called, sounding detached. You stir up on your seat and knowledge him with a curt nod, he sighs.

He tilts his head to the side, contemplating if he was willing to leap into this. “Look, I already give Mr. Fujita our essay-”

“You did what?” He cursed under his breath, the pure look of distress on your face was enough for him to reevaluate his whole speech.

“I thought it would be a good thing! I'm trying to apologize here-” “You're not apologizing.” “Could you let me finish for an instance?” his accent grew ticker when he was mad, you could tell.

You looked up at him, eyes doubtful with every move. He seemed utterly serious, not like he wasn’t daily, but the hardness of his stare holds something different this time: Determination. You nod your head, signaling for him to continue. He relaxed on the seat, letting his shoulders fall defeatedly to his sides.

“I'm sorry for what I did. I shouldn't have resorted to punching you in the face and I didn't mean to break your nose. Mierda- look, it wasn't my best moment, but I know what I did was wrong and I shouldn't have let my frustration out on you.” his eyes searched for a reaction, you barely could process his words when you started to talk.

“I was out of place. Acted like a shithead and started to berate you as if I knew more as if I was better- I'm not.” you paused to compose yourself, your hands trembling with uncertainty. “I'm sorry for what I did too, your face and what I said.” you clarify.

There's an uncomfortable quietness invading the room, but Miles starts to laugh out of nowhere. It scared you for a second, his laugh was something foreign to you. But it was contagious. And soon enough you cracked up with him.

He stops only to smile teasingly at you, gaze still intimidating though. “You have a mean left hook bro, got me struggling to try and beat you up.”

“You kidding? Man, you broke my nose! How could I compete with that?” you follow his bait and soon enough, he's listening to you tell him all about the medical procedure you had to endure to fix your nose.

He may appear unconcerned about your retelling, but Miles is listening attentively. Every detail makes it deep into his mind, eyes fixing on the way your hands move to narrate the story with you.

You didn't have the best start, but it seems now the two of you may become well acquainted with each other.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“¿Que mierda miras?”: the fuck you looking at?

[brynnterpretations]

Bowers gang favorite school subject/extra curriculars, if they attend any (they're all slackers buuuut...)

BOWERS GANG'S FAVORITE SUBJECTS ☻

Belch Huggins

History. At first, I was inclined to say workshop, but I'd say that as much as Belch likes hands-on activities, he does enough of it at home (particularly because of how little his father contributes to the house) to enjoy the zoning-out that history classes offer. Belch is someone who cares a lot about the past — it's one of the reasons he's stayed with Bowers for so long — and he also is interested in the things typically taught in high-school history courses like wars and evolving technology. Many of Belch's peers assume him to be a knucklehead, but Belch can easily (and happily) hold his own in history-based conversations and debates. Do not expect to win any Revolutionary History trivia against our boy Reggie.

Henry Bowers

Workshop. Working with his hands is something very soothing for Henry that, when he does it, is associated with positive moments, whether it be fixing the sink while his dad is gone or Victor and Belch casually talking across from him while he give one of the tractors a tune-up (the Bowers Gang equivalent of parallel play). Henry is naturally very skilled at figuring out where things are meant to go and what exactly is wrong with a broken item — if you ever need something fixed and you're very, very close to him, he's got you as long as you don't mention it — and he gets along extremely well with Mr. Worth, the closest person to a father figure Henry has had. It's the only class he's gotten an A in.

Patrick Hockstetter

Hands-on science courses, AKA the classes you get to fuck around with the most. Patrick has gotten into major trouble in these courses, from replacing dead frogs with real frogs in 9th-grade biology to almost setting fire to Mr. Wallace's classroom as well as burning the tip of his partner's finger in the "flame test" (in which you see which color a flame lights to detect the amount of metal ions in a sample). Patrick, despite being intelligent, typically scores awful grades in his courses due to A) fucking around and B) just not caring for academia, but has consistently scored high marks, even with his shenanigans, due to his natural talent with the course material.

Victor Criss

English. Victor is extremely talented at writing and reading in-between the lines — the essay that got him a full-tuition scholarship was breaking down To Kill a Mockingbird in a way that applied to his life beautifully. Writing is something that can both energize and relax him, and Victor spends most of his spare time reading books, with a special fondness for beatnik authors like Ginsberg and especially Bukowski. I also imagine he has a knack for editing. He gets along extremely well with all of his English teachers, too, and this class is what I imagine would send him on the career path I headcanon for him (becoming an editor-in-chief).

[thetrashqueeeen]

The thing that’s pissing me off about this Faith Becoming a Doctor storyline is nothing to do with Faith and everything to do with how IT IS NOT THAT EASY! I have looked into training as a doctor and had to give up on it because it is logistically impossible for most working class people and casualty could have made a point here!

Right so first things first, there is no conversion degree for healthcare professionals- they just have to do the same graduate entry medical course as every other degree educated person. This degree is 4 years and only offered by a handful of medical schools in the country so let’s pretend Holby Medical School is one of these universities and just suspend our disbelief- moving on

Before she can even apply she would have to take this test called the GAMSAT which is absolutely ridiculous and now don’t get me wrong I think you should prove that you are academically capable of completing a degree before you start it but the GAMSAT is not doing that. For starters, it’s not a pass or fail, you’re ranked by percentile compared to other people who took it, so you don’t just have to prove you CAN do it, you also have to be better than everyone else who tries. Furthermore, the questions aren’t marked like the exams we took in school; or even uni. The entire paper is marked, and then the amount of marks a question is worth is decided based on how many people got it right. For example, a question 90% of people got right would be worth 1 point, but if that same question was only gotten right by 1% of people, it would be worth 10 points, so there is very little way to intelligently work for a better score. It’s also been proven by research that the correlation between GAMSAT percentile and completion of medical degree, academic attainment and retention by the NHS is not statistically significant. There are 2 sitting a year and you have to do them at the specified time and place, making it very hard for someone working shifts (like Faith) to get that test done. To add insult to injury, it is £250 PER ATTEMPT and you have pay for practice exams. Let’s not even get into how Faith is supposed to study for a test that is 5 hours long and 1 section reading comprehension, 1 section essay questions and then a third section which is UNDERGRADUATE level biology and chemistry and A2 level physics with no practice material all while working full time and being a single mother.

Secondly- the course is not entirely funded by student finance. Each year is 9.5k and only about 60% of this is covered by student finance. The other 40% ish is covered by an NHS bursary- except for the first year. This means you need to come up with about 3.8k (from memory) in tuition fees to sit the first year. Your NHS bursary doesn’t kick in until you pass first year and go into year 2. Faith will be paid more than a ‘regular’ nurse, but 4 grand is not a small sum of money and would be hard for her to pull together.

Finally- this is not a course that is offered part time (if they keep her in this show and pretend that she’s doing it part time or, even worse, as evening classes, I am going to LOSE MY MIND) and it’s very, very hard to have a part time job because of the heavy work load and eventual placement shifts. My fist degree was a BA and I had a job the whole time, but I also had low contact hours and no placements to do. There are no bursaries for living costs that I could find and there is no way you could live off a student finance maint loan, if they even offer you one, especially when you’re supporting 2 kids. Faith would not only need to live somewhere with a university that offered GEM, pay for and do well in the GAMSAT and have 4k to pay tuition her first year, she would also have to be able to stop working for 4 whole years.

This is not something she would do over the course of a few weeks, she would be worrying about funding, about living, about the kids and having a menty b about the GAMSAT. casualty could make a really good point here about how someone who would succeed as a doctor, and has committed her entire working life thus far to the NHS, financially could not afford to retrain. Instead I’m sure they are going to take the ‘night classes’ route and I am, in fact, going to LOSE MY MIND

[ytacademy]

End of Year Exam Report

Name: Brian Michael Hanby

Class: B-1

Alias: The Terroriser

Results

Written Exams - Fail, Pass

Partnered Exam - Distinction

Crisis Exam - Merit

Notes

I will give him this: Brian scored substantially higher than B-1’s class average of 17. This is not so impressive — rather more indicative of his and his class’ attitude to the academic side of study at Y.T. — as the question exam was out of 86. There are multiple unattempted questions, some others answered with snarky remarks, and he missed the first 2 pages entirely. What he did answer properly he got full marks on. His essay on the ethics hero “brands” and how far heroes are expected to fit it was poorly argued from a technical standpoint but was among the most unique, interesting essays written this year.

Brian paved the way to victory in his partnered exam by swiftly analysing the combat terrain & the opponent, then telling his partner (Daithi Nagle, B-1) to smack them into submission before restraining them himself. I can’t discredit Brian for this, nor the minor squabble brought up by his partner.

In the crisis exam, Brian immediately sought a vantage point and used the comms systems B-1 had set up in their free time to relay information on the villains. Once the management students took over this line of inquiry, Brian went to other heroes already in fights to provide assistance. He was particularly vital in protecting classmate Dallas Young so he could continue snipe at villains from a rooftop, enduring a stray bullet in the process. I wouldn’t have marked him down for yelling at Mr Young then and there but Brian managed to restrain himself until the exam was done by taking it out on opponents. He tried to hide a dislocated finger by setting it back while still on the field which is why he did not achieve a distinction.

Though Brian is formidable when it comes to practical situations, a severe change in attitude is needed when it comes to the academics. It may not seem important in comparison to action but the knowledge will help him to improve as a hero and person. Brian will attend mandatory bonus lessons along with the rest of the new B-2 in the upcoming year.

[mbadreamcollege]

Direct admission in ISB Hyderabad| Call@ 9354992359| ISB management quota

Direct Admission in ISB Hyderabad MBA | ISB Management Quota Seats

Are you dreaming of joining one of the top business schools in India, but didn't make it through the regular admissions process? Do you want to know about the ISB Hyderabad MBA program and its management quota seats? This article provides all the essential details about ISB Hyderabad's management quota seats, admission process, fees, and eligibility criteria.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Overview of ISB Hyderabad MBA

Eligibility criteria for ISB Hyderabad MBA

Regular Admissions vs. Management Quota Admissions

Benefits of Management Quota Admissions

How to apply for ISB Hyderabad Management Quota Admissions

Documents required for Management Quota Admissions

Fees for Management Quota Admissions

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Conclusion

Introduction

The Indian School of Business (ISB) Hyderabad is a premier business school that offers world-class management education in India. Established in 2001, ISB has consistently been ranked among the top business schools in India and Asia. The school's flagship program is the one-year Post Graduate Program in Management (PGP), which is designed for experienced professionals who want to enhance their management skills and accelerate their career growth.

Overview of ISB Hyderabad MBA

The ISB Hyderabad MBA program is a one-year full-time residential program that provides a holistic understanding of business management. The program is designed to help experienced professionals enhance their management skills and leadership abilities. The program includes a mix of classroom lectures, case studies, simulations, and industry projects, which provide practical learning opportunities for the students.

The program offers specializations in various areas such as Finance, Marketing, Operations, and Information Technology. The curriculum is designed to provide a balanced mix of core courses, electives, and experiential learning opportunities.

Eligibility criteria for ISB Hyderabad MBA

To be eligible for the ISB Hyderabad MBA program, candidates must have:

A Bachelor's degree or equivalent in any discipline.

At least 24 months of full-time work experience.

A valid GMAT/GRE score.

Candidates who do not have a GMAT/GRE score can take the ISB Admission Test (ISBAT) conducted by the school.

Regular Admissions vs. Management Quota Admissions

ISB Hyderabad offers two modes of admissions: Regular Admissions and Management Quota Admissions. Regular Admissions are based on merit and are conducted through a rigorous selection process, which includes GMAT/GRE scores, essays, and interviews.

Management Quota Admissions, on the other hand, are a way to secure a seat in the ISB Hyderabad MBA program without going through the regular admissions process. These seats are reserved for candidates who have strong academic backgrounds, exceptional work experience, and can pay the full tuition fees upfront.

Benefits of Management Quota Admissions

The key benefits of Management Quota Admissions are:

Guaranteed admission to the ISB Hyderabad MBA program.

No need to go through the regular admissions process.

No need to submit GMAT/GRE scores.

No need to write essays or attend interviews.

How to apply for ISB Hyderabad MBA Management Quota Admissions

To apply for Management Quota Admissions, candidates need to follow these steps:

Visit the ISB Hyderabad website and download the application form.

Fill in the required details in the application form.

Pay the application fee.

Attach the required documents.

Submit the application form.

Documents required for Management Quota Admissions

The documents required for Management Quota Admissions are:

Bachelor's degree or equivalent certificate.

Transcript of marks from

Official transcripts of marks from all universities attended.

Proof of work experience.

GMAT/GRE score (if available).

Passport size photograph.

Identity proof (Aadhaar Card, Voter ID, or Passport).

Fees for Management Quota Admissions

The fees for Management Quota Admissions are different from regular admissions. Candidates need to pay the full tuition fees upfront, which is INR 37.70 lakhs for the 2022-23 academic year. The fees cover tuition, accommodation, and meals during the program.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

What is the eligibility criteria for ISB Hyderabad MBA?

Ans. Candidates need to have a Bachelor's degree or equivalent in any discipline, at least 24 months of full-time work experience, and a valid GMAT/GRE score.

What is the duration of the ISB Hyderabad MBA program?

Ans. The ISB Hyderabad MBA program is a one-year full-time residential program.

How can I apply for ISB Hyderabad MBA Management Quota Admissions?

Ans. Candidates can apply for Management Quota Admissions by visiting the ISB Hyderabad website, downloading the application form, filling in the required details, paying the application fee, attaching the required documents, and submitting the application form.

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[forlovvers]

[ nct dream as hogwarts students ]

warning(s): guys these only make sense if u’ve read the series or watched the movies 😭

MARK !

gryfinddor!mark lee is literally the harry potter of kpop idc 😟. would always get in trouble because of a certain slytherin. he would 100% leave his moonstone essay until last minute and stay up writing it in the common room. he would accidentally find the room of requirements while trying to find the bathroom. mark is the star player of the quidditch team, but would never be the captain of the team. only takes divination for an easy O.

RENJUN !

ravenclaw!renjun is definitely headboy. probably the smartest of his year. he’s often found alone in the ravenclaw common room or taking a stroll on the grounds, away from bigger crowds. is surprisingly bad at wizard chess, but renjun claims he ‘doesn’t have enough time’ to practice chess. his favorite class is astronomy, sometimes he sneaks there away at night to draw or just watch the stars. literally hates pe class, and is the only class he’s bad at. aiming for prefect & has a cat.

JENO !

gryfinddor!jeno is also headboy but for gryfinddor. everyone likes him because of how chill he is as headboy. for some reason i feel like he’s the first one in the dining hall for no reason. captain of the quidditch team, and is always determined to win house cup. likes renjun’s cat, but is obviously allergic. jeno also copies off of mark sometimes, but because mark sometimes leaves his assignments until last minute, they both end up with bad scores. doesn’t like the potions master, but likes double potions with the hufflepuffs.

HAECHAN !

slytherin!haechan is a trouble maker. you either hate him, or love him. he doesn’t really hang out with other slytherins and he’s found himself an outcast amongst his own house. he finds pleasure in teasing or annoying mark and renjun for fun, but has grown close with them. likes to pass/throw random notes at people in class like, ‘your hair looks funny today’ or ‘what came first, the chicken or egg?’ etc. he loves to make people laugh whilst doing stupid stuff. sucks at arithmancy. haechan answers with wrong answers in class for a laugh or two, but always knows the correct answer. def gets mark in trouble.

JAEMIN !

hufflepuff!jaemin is literally the best person ever. he’s the type of classmate to take notes for you if you’re gone a day. although he’d never say it out loud, he hates care of magical creatures. gasp, i know right. always has his hogsmede permission slip. jaemin’s found hanging out with jeno or fawning over jisung. is the person that’s always watering the plants in the common room. a highkey flirt. practices occlumency for fun. nearly failed charms during his 2nd year because he couldn’t do accio.

CHENLE !

gryfinddor!chenle is definitely your mischief that is not managed. fred & george vibes. partner in crimes with jisung. he buys everything off the trolley. sleeps through all of his classes and yet manages to get full marks. for some reason he knows all the secret passage way. peeves annoying him? no, him annoying peeves. he uses the prefect bathroom, even though we both know he’s not a prefect. he’s an mc for the quidditch matches and is lowkey biased about who’s the best team. once transfigured a cockroach into a deck of uno cards.

JISUNG !

gryfinddor!jisung gets lost with all the 142 staircases that are constantly changing. once made a love potion in class with no intention to use it. he’s probably lost his hogsmede permission slip. tried out for the quidditch team, but they didn’t get back to him. he likes to go up to the owlery and observe the owls, but when they aggressively flap their wings, jisung immediately leaves. avoids the girls bathroom on the second floor, because he heard it was haunted. nearly broke his wand while trying to spit out a ‘bertie botts every flavored bean’. everyone’s favorite.

a/n: i hope this made sense 💀

[chim-chimchii]

Encaptured (Jungkook)

Genre: Fluff 

Note: A little fuckboy Jungkook for you all! I’m currently working on a social media au and I might just post the profiles so I can give you guys a sneak peek and to also motivate myself to work on it more! Let me know what you guys think! I also didn’t know how to end this so I apologize if it’s a crappy ending. 

. . . . . . . 

On Thursdays, the literary class met in the college library, and that was when Jungkook always had you look over his essays. Not only did he use that time to get his papers edited, but he also took this time to prod you about your weekend plans.

"So, are you going to accept my offer to take you to the movies this weekend?" Jungkook asked, resting his chin on his palm.

You glanced up from his essay. "Hm, not this week. I think I'm all booked." With a smirk directed towards him, you continued marking his paper.

"You said that last week." He mumbled with a playful pout.

"And last week, when I rejected you, you ended up taking that girl from your math class." You stated with a challenging stare.

Tongue in cheek, Jungkook chuckled, "Well, I couldn't let those tickets go to waste! I thought for sure you would have agreed." He continued trying to justify his playboy ways.

You scoffed and slid his paper over to him; red pen marks were scattered all over it. You thought that the edits you made to his essay would distract him from the current topic, but he pushed the assignment to the side.

"Y/n, when will you let me take you on a date?" Jungkook leaned in ever so slightly and smiled sweetly.

Your heart rate increased. His whole appearance changed with that one smile, and it was hard for you to hide the fact that it made you feel some way. Maybe it was time to give him a chance, and if it didn't work out, then he would finally stop bugging you.

"Okay." You finally answered after thinking it through. That one word took Jungkook by surprise.

"Okay? Are you saying, yes?"

Without making eye contact, you nodded and closed your notebook with a gentle smile.

"I'll pick you up at seven." Jungkook bit his lip to hide his smile and watched you leave the library.

. . . . 

The sun was setting, and seven o clock was right around the corner. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror that hung by the door and nodded in approval of your outfit. You tried to remember the last time you got all dressed up for a date, and as you tried to place a moment, there was a knock at the door. 

As you reached for the door, you hesitated. What if this was a one-time thing? What if he never spoke to you after tonight? Just because you turned his offers for a date down multiple times, it wasn't as if you didn't like Jungkook. You appreciated his presence in your boring literary class; you appreciated his jokes and stories. What if all he wanted was to add you to the list of girls he won over with his charms? 

Your thoughts were interrupted again by a knock, but this time it was a lot softer. You took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob. Whatever his intentions were, you decided to accept this date, so you had to deal with the consequences. 

Jungkook stood in the doorway with his hands buried in his pockets. His head was hung low as if he was half expecting you not to answer, but when you opened the door wider, he looked up. 

You forgot to breathe upon seeing him. Instead of the cliche leather jacket he always wore, he wore a grey flannel over a white shirt. It wasn't THAT different from what he always wore but seeing him wear light-colored clothing suits him well. His demeanor was different, as well. A timid smile replaced the cocky smirk he always had on his face. 

"Are you ready?" His voice came out lighter than usual; it took you a moment to remember this was Jungkook and not someone else. 

"Yeah, let me just grab my bad." You left him by the door as you dashed back to your room to grab your purse. 

. . . . 

It was the little things that Jungkook did that made you weak in the knees. As the two of you walked to the theater, Jungkook rested his hand on the small of your back. He maneuvered you to the other side of him; it wasn't until his warmth left that you realized he was making sure you were closest to the buildings and away from the busy street.

Your eyes fixated on him, and it felt like the world was in slow motion, and you saw Junkook in a new light. You wanted nothing more, but to have this moment last forever. Forever didn't come because he glanced at you with that beautiful smile of his.

"Would you be upset if I told you I don't want to go to the movies anymore?"

The world resumed at its original speed, and your excitement disappeared.

"Oh? Did you want to take a rain check or something?" You tried not to sound too disappointed.

"No, no. I just don't think I can handle sitting next to you for two and a half hours and not talk to you."

You sighed in relief, which made Jungkook chuckle.

"I don't know what you've been told or what you heard about me, but I'm not cruel.

You raised your eyebrow at him and smirked. "I don't know, I've heard some pretty interesting things about you, Jungkook."

You gave him one last teasing look before walking ahead of him. Jungkook tsked before jogging to catch up to you.

"So, are you going to tell me what you heard so I can prove those accusations wrong?"

Together you waded through the crowded street, careful not to lost one another. If he took your hand, would you pull away or let him have that small victory?

"You haven't said what we're going to do now that we're not going to the movies."

His hand grazed yours. "You're changing the topic."

Seconds later, his hand rested on your shoulder to guide you towards the entrance of an arcade. It was full of other couples, groups of friends, and people wanting to have fun. The atmosphere brought a smile to your face. You didn't even realize Jungkook had left until he returned with a bag full of tokens.

"I'll let you choose the first game."

Dramatically, you rested your hand on your heart. "What a gentleman."

Jungkook threw his head back in defeat. "Whoever told you that I wasn't a gentleman needs to stop feeding you lies."

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but you don't really have the best reputation." You explained as you made your way over to the basketball game.

You glanced back at him to make sure he was following and found him chewing on his lip. Your statement bothered him. The two of you exchanged no other words until he was standing next to you.

"Is that why you always rejected me?" His eyes locked with yours, and you didn't dare look away.

Rather than lying, you nodded. "Yeah."

Jungkook was the one to break eye contact; it was clear he was upset. He fished for a token and inserted it into the machine to start the game.

As you watched him, you inhaled deeply and thought about everything. You didn't want to be the reason the date ended in ruins. You were honest about why you declined his offers, but now that you were here with him, you kept thinking how different things could have been if you had just agreed to date him the first time he asked.

Without thinking further, when Jungkook reached for another ball, you took it from him and aimed for the moving hoop.

"You can't blame me for being scared."

Jungkook opened his mouth to say something but stopped as he watched you throw the ball straight into the hoop. Another ball rolled towards you, but Jungkook grabbed it before you could.

"I wasn't blaming you. I was blaming myself." He missed the hoop and ticked his head to the side, slightly annoyed that he didn't score, but as the game ended, he had one of the highest scores.

Together you moved in the direction of another game.

"Why are you blaming yourself?"

He didn't say anything, and you were afraid he didn't hear you due to the increasing volume of everyone around you.

"Because I got careless with relationships and dating, and now that I want something serious, my reputation is ruining my chances.

The corners of your mouth twitched into a tiny smile. "It's your turn to pick a game."

You weren't ignoring what he had said; you just wanted to think about it for a moment longer.

The two of you wandered around the arcade and tried not to lose each other with the growing amount of people entering the building. Jungkook stopped in front of a photo booth and let out a small laugh.

"It isn't a game, but it seems like this is the only thing unoccupied." 

"I think it'll be fun!" You linked his arm with yours and entered the small booth. 

Jungkook sat silently next to you as you messed around with the photo settings. As you sat back, your shoulder brushed against his, and it made it obvious how close the two of you were. You couldn't help but think back to his previous comment about wanting to be in a serious relationship.  Did he mean that he wanted to try and be in a serious relationship with you? You'd be lying if you said you didn't have feelings for him. The truth was, you had liked him all along, but you let the rumors about him cloud your judgment of his character. 

The beeping of the timer caused you to snap out of your thoughts. 

"Are you ready?" You glanced over at Jungkook, and to your surprise, he was already staring at you. The flash went off, signaling that the first picture was taken. Then the timer reset. 

"Your chances aren't completely ruined, by the way." 

The two of you looked away and to the camera, where you opted for a funny face. The camera went off. 

"What do you mean?" Jungkook turned to you again. 

"If you were this version of yourself all the time, you wouldn't have any trouble getting into a serious relationship, and any girl would be happy to be with you."  

You stuck your tongue out at him as the camera snapped another picture. 

"I don't want just any girl though--" He faced forward and held up a peace sign. "--I want you." 

Your expression changed in an instant, and it was captured as the shutter sounded. "Jungkook." 

He hesitated but looked your way as the last seconds of the timer counted down. You took his face into your hands and pressed your lips to his. The moment captured forever as the final flash of the camera washed over the two of you. 

[hoodieofholland]

Handsome Man // Professor!Tom

Summary: you think your professor is a really good-looking man and let it slip out of your mouth.

Word count: ~2.9k

Warnings: none, except for some swearing.

A/n: I really liked writing the prof!tom universe and made it longer now (thanks anon that motivated me to write more about it). taking a moment to add that i always get this feeling that first encounter between reader and professor tom would be like fluffy as hell, he'd be so polite and that fucking accent of him ugghhh. Perfect. Anyways, enjoy!

Masterlist

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

"Good morning, everyone!"

You raise your head abruptly, snapped out of your thoughts. Which, by the way, were all directed to the man who was walking down to his desk with a sweet yet confident smile on his face.

"You all are looking so excited with Monday" he says playfully and the class laughs. "Hope I'm worth your tired time here this morning".

You straighten your back, picking pen and book from your backpack as Professor Holland organizes his materials on the wood desk.

You weren't a square at classes or anything like that. But surely you were never late for English classes, neither badly dressed up. You always made sure to pick your best outfit, not leaving out the professional look, all to impress your favorite professor.

Not that you were silly enough to believe something would come out from that strictly professional relationship, but it was inevitable for you wanting to feel pretty around him, as your imagination flew wild whenever he stepped in the classroom.

Professor Holland was really something else. He wasn't only a handsome man, with a noticeable muscular body hidden behind the much formal clothes he wore. He wasn't only the youngest professor in that department. He was intelligent, had a good sense of humor and was incredibly polite.

You could tell by the way girls always seemed to be extra interested on this class that you weren't the only one in the room to feel attracted to your professor.

You always made sure to ne early so you could take a seat in the front row, not to claim for his attention, but to be able to pain attention to the lecture and also get the opportunity to have a good look at him once in a while, mostly when he was distracted, sitting at his desk and taking notes on the classes' essays.

By the end of the lesson, he dismissed the students and you started to pack your things, barely motivated to your next classes. Now that you wouldn't have your professor's look to distract you a bit, it really felt like fucking Monday.

There were only around four students left in the room, and you, who was caring your notebook and pencil on your hands, walking directly to Professor Holland's desk clarify his small notes he took on your essay from last week.

Three girls were standing around his desk, smiling widely as he explained something that were on the board.

"But, Professor Holland..." one of the girls asked the same stupid question again, letting his name roll along her tongue, as she was savoring it. You roll your eyes, flicking your feet as you waited impatiently for your chance to have a time with him.

Professor Holland sighed and gently tried to reassure the group of girls that they could have the assistant to solve their other questions, as he was running out of time and there was another person he had to assist.

Finally, the girls gave in and passed through you, taking the time to send you a look. You just shrugged it off and walked to the Professor's desk.

"Miss. Y/l/n" he greets your, a small smile forming of his lips. Your stomach felt like flipping inside of you and you tried to keep your composure as you reached his desk. "Any questions left?"

"Actually, Professor..." you handed him the paper, a bit ashamed of he remembering it was yours and connecting the words you wrote down with your face. It was so much easier when you didn't see your professor reading your text. "I marked some of the notes you wrote and didn't understand, if you could help me".

He looked over the text, a wrinkle of concentration between his brows, and just when he lifted his gaze back to you, you felt your heart fastening.

"Of course", he gives you a tightlipped smile, grabbing a pen to point some of the corrections to you. "See, there weren't any big mistake on this, you could say I'm just a perfectionist. Actually, this was one of the best essays from the class".

Your eyes light up immediately, feeling too enthusiastic for the compliment. "Thank you, Sir. It means a lot".

Professor Holland nodded once, averting his eyes from you for a moment, his face taking on a more stern look. Then he started to explain his notes and you felt more relaxed as you notice it wasn't really that big of mistakes. You listened with full attention and commented on what you felt like could improve on your writing.

"I feel like if you take your time to rewrite it and survey some of your constructions, this text will be more than excellent" he pointed, handing you the paper again, a proud smile on his lips. Then, he chuckled a bit, playfully, "Obviously, the first score is the one that will be considered for your grade, so it's up to you. But I think it'll be a great work".

You smile happily. "Sure, I'll do it", you take the paper back again and put it inside your folder. Looking at the wall clock, you just notice it's too long past the break between classes. "Shit, I didn't realize it was past your lessons' time already. I'm sorry, I should be going-"

"It's alright, Miss. Y/l/n". He sends you a reassurance smile, putting a hand over yours for a brief moment, but that didn't make it go under your notice. "I'm always satisfied to waste a little more time on my most dedicated students, and even more glad that your questions wasn't about lessons itself", he grimaces and you could tell what he was referring too. "Not in my best behavior saying it out loud, but I was starting to think I wasn't doing a great explanation".

You laugh a bit and shake your head. "Oh, you shouldn't worry about it. I'm pretty sure you're the best professor from this department. Plus, those girls weren't seriously having a problem with the subject" you roll your eyes softly, still smiling, but not quite realising what you had just said.

Professor Holland scowls, face confused as he catches your last sentence. "What do you mean?"

You froze, eyes widening as you gulp. "I-I mean- like, you were explaining it for the fourth time already... it wasn't possible that they didn't get it. I think they were more interested on... you know?".

He narrow his eyes, quirked his brow questioning, expecting you to explain yourself. A shiver pass through your body, embarrassment running right to your blushing cheeks as you struggle to find a proper answer.

"I mean, I think they were interested on... you". You almost cough, looking for somewhere else to stare in the room, avoiding your Professor's concentrated eyes. But as silent is completely made, you have to make sure he isn't mad at your stupid comment. Averting your eyes back at him, you are surprised to be met with his brown ones filled with what seemed amusement.

He was supporting his chin on his fist, a curious look covering his soft feature, hiding a smile behind the thumb pressed against his lips.

"Why would you think that?" He asked in the same amused tone and you never felt more stupid.

You wanted to slap your forehead and hide your entire self on the closest bathroom, but Professor Holland had those glistening brown soft eyes on you, nothing but a relaxed face put in your display, his sultry voice - which you were pretty sure wouldn't sound like this on purpose - incentivanting you to continue.

You cleared your throat and collected your devilish thoughts to think straight.

"I guess most of the girls here think you're, y'know, a handsome man" you shrugged, wanting so much sound casual, as that wasn't your personal opinion.

Mr. Holland raised his eyebrows, you couldn't tell if it was surprise for your answer or for your courage on saying that out loud. Maybe both.

"Did you hear that?", he questioned, tilting his head a little to the side. "From those girls?"

He got you. You knew that. He knew you were just making assumptions, which meant that could only be your own opinion expressed on the vision you had over other students.

"No", you answered under your breath, gulping. "It's just a guess".

Silent was made and you felt terrified. You truly started to think that Mr. Holland was planning the most tough comments on your behavior, that he would try to show you how unprofessional and not ethic at all was your opinion about him, that he was your professor and you were his student, nothing beyond that. But then he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair as his eyes concentrated on you.

He looked like someone who was pondering something, but your nervousness calmed down a little bit at the way he had his gaze over you. Though his eyes were dark, that couldn't be so bad, if he didn't have a mad expression on.

"Is it what you think?" He tried again, the corner of his mouth threatening to quirk. "Do you think I'm a handsome man?"

You close your eyes briefly, feeling past ashamed of it. "I'm sorry, it's pathetic, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, Miss. Y/l/n" he chuckles softly. "Don't make a big deal out of it. After all, I'm not much older than you, am I? Shouldn't be so wrong to have an opinion about my looking".

He was taking it so calmly that you couldn't believe. Maybe he was right, maybe it wasn't a big deal. Or maybe he was so used to having girls head over heels for him that it didn't get on his nerves anymore.

You sigh and decide to agree better than discuss anything and make more shame on yourself. "Anyways, I just wanted you to know that-"

"Mr. Holland?"

A voice interrupt him, and you turn your head abruptly to see another professor standing in the door frame, a case on his hand, eyes going between both of you. "Sorry for interrupting, but I'm giving my next lesson here. Is it taking too long, or...?"

"Oh, no", Mr. Holland smiled fondly and stood up, gathering his things from the desk. "Pardon me, didn't realize it was so late. Miss y/l/n, do you have any more questions left?"

You narrow your eyes at him, a bit taken aback as you knew you weren't making any questions seconds prior. He was lying, lying about the reason why the two of you were stuck in his classroom for so long. So you just nodded back and corrected your face.

"No, I'm fine, Sir. Thanks for your time" you smiled a little before turning in your heels.

The other man entered the class and started to put his things above the table, with Mr. Holland beside him. You were about to step out of the room when you hear your professor talking to you.

"Oh, and Miss. Y/l/n?" You turned your head to look at him again. He smiled. "It'd be lovely if you rewrite that essay. You can pass by my office later to show me your corrections, if you want to".

You blink, too surprised to answer right away. With a pounding heart on your chest, you nod, wishing nothing but to work on that useless essay as soon as possible.

____________

The day passes quickly, your mind too occupied with your essay. Missing some of your later classes, you saved time to stay until 6pm in the library, trying to come out with the of your writing whilst correcting the mistakes Mr. Holland pointed for you.

Certainly, that was the most dedicated you've ever been for a work.

But you couldn't resist the anxiety running through your body as you thought about walking down that aisle in the Professor Holland's office direction.

Again, you weren't expecting anything beyond him reading your text again, but the thought of seeing him alone one time was exciting itself.

You finish your work and put the paper inside a case, gathering everything together and walking straight to the aisle of English department.

It was empty and quiet, not a sight of any students neither professors around, as it was past the last lectures for the day.

Taking a few good breathes, you smooth your hand down your skirt before knocking softly on Professor Holland office's door.

"Come in!"

You turn the handle and open the door, closing it behind you. Mr. Holland looked tired, eyes heavy under his glasses. He also seemed busy, reading a book and taking his notes.

"Oh, Miss Y/l/n", he smiles warmly when his eyes lift to your face, waving a hand for you to take a seat in front of his desk. "Glad to see you. I suppose you made the corrections on your essay?"

You smile and nod, sitting down before reaching your paper in your backpack. "I added some other points I thought about when reading again", you hand him your essay and he takes it, fingers touching yours briefly, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Great" he looked over the paper, reading more cautiously at some point in the middle, where the biggest changes were made. He seemed impressed with your work and you couldn't help but feel the euphoria by each time the curve of his lips seemed to form a smile.

You looked over his office. It was small, but enough for one person only. There was a shelf full of books and a pretty tiny table across the room, cups, water and what you assumed to be tea inside a bottle on top of that.

"It's really cozy here" you speak out loud, more to yourself, wandering and picturing Mr. Holland sitting beside his little table and taking his tea while reading one of the shelf's book.

He smiles, lifting his glance from the paper to your face, which was still looking around. "You like it?"

You blink a few times before answering, a bit embarrassed that he caught your vague comment. "Yeah". His face held nothing but a contemplating look. "It must feel really good to have an office all to yourself".

Mr. Holland laughs quietly. "I don't spend too much time here to appreciate that much, actually", he admits. "Most of my time in the building is spent in classrooms and I pretty much like taking my work home, so... But, yes, it's good".

"I'd like it. Y'know, having somewhere you can take a time off and even have lunch when everywhere else is so full of people". You make your point, shrugging.

Something crosses Mr. Holland's face, but he quickly make it disappear.

"Well", he says, looking at your essay again after clearing his throat. "I like it very much. Not a single mistake this time. I can say properly now that this is the best essay I received for last week's work".

You smile widely. "Thank you, Mr. Holland".

He look up at your again, a small and hesitating smile on his lips. "You can call me Tom", when you open your mouth and say anything, he continues, "If you want. Mr. Holland just makes me feel so old".

You laugh at his grimace. "Oh, you're nothing near old, no worry on that".

Tom smiles more freely, if not smugly, and you feel your cheeks darkening in pink.

"Yeah, you think I'm... a handsome man, right?" He teases you and for a moment, it's not like your formal and professional professor is the one in the room anymore. You smiles sheepishly, bitting your lips to try to contain it.

"I'm sorry for that again", you shake your head, but Tom whines.

"If you don't stop with your apologies, I'm going to give you another essay to write". He says playfully. "I'm just joking, y/n".

Hearing your first name coming out of his mouth warms your heart and you feel like exploding in excitement.

"Wouldn't be such a punishment, I think" you admit, looking to your hands.

Tom narrows his eyes, corner of his mouth raising in a smile again. "And why is that?"

You bite your lower lips, pressing your fingers in the palm of your hand nervously as you think about what you're saying next, "Well, if it meant I'd have to come here to show you, I'd gladly write one".

Tom takes your answer slowly, smile growing on his face and he chuckles softly. "Really?"

"Yeah", you nod.

Tom stares at you for the following seconds and it's just as when you glance at the clock in his desk that yiu realize you've spent too much time inside his office.

"I think I gotta go now", you say, standing up and picking your backpack and essay. It wouldn't look good a student getting out of a professor's office so late in the night.

Tom smiled sadly and got up too, watching as you made your way to the door. But before you could open it, you remembered you last talk in the classroom.

"Tom?" You tested the name on your lips, savoring the liberty he had just given to you. He looked at you, waiting. "What was it you were going to say before that professor entered the classroom?"

He took a few seconds thinking and then a trace of a small smile came to his features.

"I was just going to say that I appreciate your compliment" he licks his lips and you smile. "Also, that you should know I think you're pretty gorgeous too".

[darkistmalfoyhead]

Threats & Homework Answers

Draco Malfoy can’t seem to intimidate that insufferable, brown-haired girl into helping him. He tried threatening to kill her and raze her bloodline to the ground if she didn’t give him the homework answers in Charms. Hermione punched him in the jaw.

The trio of boys try everything- they need high marks to avoid getting disowned. Each attempt to seduce her on multiple occasions, flashing cocky grins and promises of a broom closet.

Draco managed to make her blush after remarking how he wished he could get scores like her’s. It was considered a win- she shrieked when Theo pinned her against a wall.

Now the whole school gets second-hand embarrassment as he runs through the halls, desperately complimenting her about her hair, essay and even the muffin she ate for breakfast. It was a rather magnificent shade of yellow.

Eventually she confronts him, the two angry and flushed in an empty classroom. So when he grumpily admitted that he needed her help with Potions, he was shocked that she didn’t say no.

Fast forward to long study sessions late at night, Draco fiddling with papers while Hermione slaps his hand to focus. They nearly get caught by Filch on multiple occasions. The pair running through the castle, hiding in the oddest places while Hermione wonders what she’s doing.

And when he gets full marks on his exam, he’s grinning like a fool because he’s going to live another day. He barges into Hermione’s Transfiguration class while it’s ending, proudly holding up his paper. She congratulates him but after the class laughs, her included, he embarrassedly shoves the paper in his bag, refusing to look at her until she showers him with praise.

[ink-fireplace-coffee]

Short Story: Kiss me, for I am dying.

A/N: this story was crafted yesterday at midnight so I can't assure the quality of it at all. It is inspired in a theatre/legend we have here in Spain called Los Amantes de Teruel, or The Teruel Lovers in english. It's like the Spanish less known version of Romeo and Juliet.

Word count: 1901.

TW: mentions of death.

I don't have a general taglist or anything on the sort, but @nathandoesntknow asked me to tag them, so here you go! enjoy my midnight weird af inspiration I guess.

------

Five months ago, Jaime would've just left if he saw that on the rooftop of the campus was already someone.

Five months ago, if he had seen that stranger sitting there- feet dangling in the air and looking at the sunset- was Isa, he would’ve turned on his heels and left before she could even so much but noticed him.

Or maybe he would’ve “asked” (more like demanded) her to go somewhere else.

Jaime and Isa hated each other. Pure and simple.

Ever since the first day of university, when Isa had given him a “you are annoying” look after Jaime had accidentally hitted her backpack, launching all her stuff through the hall.

No matter how many times he had tried to convince her that it hadn’t been on purpose, she had said that it was his fault over and over again.

If that wasn’t enough, they had not only been forced to sit next to each other for their whole third year (since it was extremely rude to tame someone else’s seat after the first week of classes) but they also were constantly competing on the top of the class.

If Isa had a 95% on the midterm, Jaime had a 98%.

If Jaime had scored a 9,9 out of ten in that essay, Isa had gotten the full mark.

Everyone saw it as a nice academic competition, the kind that made you better every day and it was healthy. Sometimes it could also be mistaken for a nice banter, or even a bit of university drama.

Isa and Jaime saw it as a live or die battle where only one of them could succeed.

Spanish had been the only subject Jaime had ever been really good at, for as long as he could remember. His zeroes in maths had always mattered less next to his tens in Spanish.

When he had told his father that his dream was to become a spanish teacher, the old man had simply nodded and said “I was not expecting less”. And so, one entrance exam to Salamanca’s university later, Jaime knew he was starting to walk the path of his future.

But while his passions were words formation, syntax and how the language had developed into today’s form; Isa had decided to study the career for a whole different reason.

It was clear that she felt completely herself when discussing novels and authors. Her essays on every single topic were excellent quality (even Jaime had to admit it) and they always provided a new, fresh way of thinking.

And maybe that's why some months ago, whatever they had agreed on had taken place.

Now, when the morning classes had already finished, Isa was already on the rooftop, a book in hand and a notebook resting on her legs.

“You are late. Again.” She remarked when she saw Jaime’s blond hair.

“Some of us have life, Isabel.” he answered in the same cold tone and took a seat in front of her.

“Being the teacher’s pet is not having a life.” They both held each other's gazes for a while, until instead of intimidating, they were staring.

The wind whooshed, making the students snap back.

Jaime cleared his throat and Isa focused on her book .“What are we revising today?” asked him.

She tapped the pages of her notebook with a pen. “Los Amantes de Teruel. Spanish version of Romeo and Juliet, I believe. Since you haven't finished it, even though it was due yesterday.” Isa added, a sassy remark included in her voice.

Jaime rolled his eyes.

Lovers of Teruel.

It is true that he had been stuck for three months in a 170 pages novel. But there were far more interesting things to do than read how two fools felt in love only to die at the end.

“I would've finished it if I hand’t been busy correcting someone’s homework.'' He remarked, as he searched for his own copy of the book inside his backpack.

Isa just scoffed, and gave him another “you are annoying” look. Jaime had to make an effort not to smile.

“You know? I wonder if those death stares are unically for me, like a personalized stare.”

“Oh, right, because you are so important in my life that I decided to give you an specific look whenever you say or do something stupid.”

“I mean… You asked me for help that day, so I guess I must be somewhat important, dear Isa.”

“I asked you for help?” she repeated, astonished “You were roaming this rooftop for weeks until I got fed up with how creepy it looked and told you to help me with that assignment, which, for the record, was perfect.”

That was true. Her assignment had been flawless, but Jaime would rather die than to admit that out loud.

“Are you planning on finishing this book with me or do you want to keep talking?” He grinned then “I’m sure there are a ton of other things you could use your mouth for, but I’d like to be prepared for my exam next week.”

Her slight blush felt like a personal win. Until she stroke back, of course.

“One: that is extremely gross, and I don’t want to know about the weird fantasies you have with my mouth. And two: it’s your turn ‘Diego’, so read.”

Since there was no point in reading plays in silence and to themselves, at the beginning of the book (three months ago), Jaime and Isa had divided the roles, taking the two main characters with them: he as Diego and her as Isabel.

“You were practically born for this role” had joked Jaime and Isa wondered how far from the ground they were… and how hard she would have to shove him.

They read some scenes out loud, stopping to make some points on the narrative, paraphrase or make a summary of what they got so far. If it was true that individually they worked really well, as a team it was almost magical.

“Kiss me, for I am dying” said Jaime/Diego for the second time. Isabel had just rejected his lover, since she had already married and didn’t wish to deceive her now husband.

“And then Diego dies because he can’t bear the pain that causes him not being able to love Isabel.” the girl closed her book, and got up, stretching “It’s late, we should go before the campus closes.”

Jaime nodded and tagged alone, but stayed quiet the whole time until they were about to leave the university.

Then, just before partying ways, the question escaped his lips “Would you kiss me if my life depended on it.?”

Both of them looked equally surprised. When he didn’t add anything else, Isa understood he was waiting for an answer.

Well, what do you answer when someone asks that without a warning?

If there’s one thing Isa had clear was that Jaime and her weren’t friends. They weren’t even study buddies! They were just two students of the same class who happened to help each other out every now and then…

And for what?

“Let’s be glad that it doesn't.” she finally said, and turned away, wanting to run as quickly as her legs could carry her.

Would you kiss me if my life depended on it?. Two college students were replaying the same question over and over in their heads. Tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Isa didn’t have the guts to go back to the rooftop in the next few weeks. Since Jaime had handed in his essay on the novel, she had assumed he had finished it on his own.

That was good, right?

Now, both of them averted their eyes, and tried really hard not to cross paths.

What had been Jaime thinking when he asked that?! Oh right, he had been not thinking at all!

Still, not knowing the answer to the damn question was getting on his nerves. Not that he desperately wanted Isa to kiss him, that could never happen but…

Hypothetically he wanted to know.

Two weeks before finals, they both bumped into each other at the rooftop. Seeing Jaime’s figure -his back to her and his face to the orange sun-, made Isa stop on her tracks.

The door slammed closed and the guy turned around.

Awkwardness was all over the place.

“The library is super crowded and-” started to explain her. He nodded.

“I know, that’s why I’m here.”

A few minutes of silence and then:

“You finished the play.” commented Isa.

“Yeah, I did” Jaime rubbed his neck, nervous “Thanks for sharing your notes, by the way. They were really helpful.”

“Oh, um, no problem.”

“And, about that question…”

“It 's okay! You don’t have to explain anything.”

“No, really, I don’t know how it happened.”

“It’s fine, there’s no need to apologize, really.”

More silence in between them.

“I can go if you want me to.” offered then Jaime. She lifted up her gaze at him.

“The rooftop is big enough for the two of us, and I know you don't like studying at the library.”

Isa had been thinking about how much she noticed about Jaime without actually wanting to: his likes and dislikes, how he frowned slightly when there was a concept he was not following, his happy smiles whenever there was something he was pleased about…

He was grinning like that now.

“Earth calling Isa, are you there?” She blinked a few times.

“Yeah, totally. Here. Present.”

Jaime decided it was now or never.

He lifted up his hand, the one holding the book and showed it to her. "We never finished reading."

"You handed in your essay already. Why would we finish reading it?"

Clearly none of this was working. The guy slided his backpack on his shoulder. "I should go, Alejandro needs me for this book analysis-" he rambled.

"Go" Isa nodded and then smiled. "Teacher 's pet."

He just laughed awkwardly and headed out.

Isa had hated every single second of that conversation. Even if it's true they never had a friendly relationship, they had somewhat grown closer along the few months they had tutored each other.

What did Jaime really mean to her? He was insufferable sometimes, that's true. Arrogant in class and a stupid know-it-all…

But he was also brilliant. And he was kinder than he wanted to show: he had given her his jacket to go home when it was raining once; and even shared his notes with her when she had been sick.

The girl ran downstairs.

Jaime was about to go inside the teacher's office when she finally got to him. In a final effort after her sprint, she tried grabbing his arm.

The guy turned around, really surprised.

"Isa, what-"

"Ask me again." she demanded.

"What?"

"Ask. Me. Again" Isa pleaded out of breath. Her courage would flee anytime soon and then-

"Bésame, que me muero." he whispered.

Kiss me, for I'm dying.

Their lips touched.

"Do you like this ending better?" she asked after the kiss, a sly smile already forming.

He tipped his head back and laughed "Much better."

In Spain whenever someone mentions Lovers of Teruel, we have a saying that sort of finishes the sentence: stupid her and stupid him. Since they both die foolishly.

Luckily, we can assure that the sentence does not apply to Jaime nor Isa.

[ahgasecaratfromn-city]

Ten Things I Hate About You

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader ft. Haechan, Johnny and mention of Jeno

Words: 7.7k

Genre: Fluff, the tiniest bit of angst if you squint, college au

Warning: Tiniest bit of cursing, kissing, family issues, anxiety attack

Summary: You never had the luxury of selecting who you were going to tutor, so when you paired with the only person you disliked, Lee Mark, you couldn’t help but formulate a list of the ten things you hated about him.

A/N: Okay so, I will admit this is longer than I anticipated, my bad. Mark has been stuck in my head and this was my way of getting him out. Basically, each part is a snip bit/ scene from the day named in bold.  *This is very very very minimally edited 

“Who the hell is that?” was not the most flattering thing someone could say when being given a free tutor. Hell, it wasn’t a flattering thing to say under any circumstance. Yet, there you were, walking slowly towards your literature class’s resident idiot, Mark.

“Me, I’m Y/N,” he looked you up and down, frowning slightly before looking back at the professor. The boy seemed to always believe that his opinions mattered to anyone but himself. He was always screaming his misconstrued thoughts during class or more likely not showing up at all, and everything about him seemed to piss you off.

Maybe it was the way he spoke to people, always assuming he was in the right. Or, maybe it was the fact that he spoke period, always rambling about absolutely nothing while the class was engaged in relevant and important conversation. More likely, it was the permanent grin etched on his face, as if nothing could touch him, not even the failing grade he was receiving in this class.

“Mark, this is quite literally your last shot because there is seriously nothing else I can do for you,” you tuned out the rest of the conversation, only raising an eyebrow once you heard that Mark wouldn’t be able to pass without a certain score on the final.

“And you really should thank Y/N, there are other students she could be helping,” your eyes shot up at the mention of your name, blushing lightly as the men looked at you.

It wasn’t as if you had volunteered to tutor Mark specifically. You had been tutoring since high school and figured it was the perfect work-study job to take up. Except you didn’t choose who to tutor, only which subjects. Unfortunately, literature happened to be one of them, and Mark happened to suck at it.

“Now, both of you get out of here,” he pointed to the doorway with a slight smirk on his face as Mark trudged away clearly annoyed.

“We can work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until the test. We can meet up at the library,” you offered, following after the boy who seemed to only quicken his pace. Jerk.

“Not Friday, that’s a busy day,” he shrugged, looking at everything but you. 

“The test is three weeks from today and judging by your, uhm previous scores, you need all the time you can get,” the boy whipped around at that statement, raising his brow at you. You didn’t understand why he seemed so shocked, you were only telling the truth.

“Fine, catch you later,” His eyes were looking behind you, focused on something else before he finally walked away from you. 

That was another thing that bothered you, he never made eye contact. It was like no one was worth the time of day to him. 

“What are you looking at,” A familiar arm snaked its way around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as you prepared to go home. You smelled the familiar scent of aftershave and light cologne that immediately brought a smile to your face.

“You’ll never guess who I have to tutor,” you looked up at your best friend, Haechan, grinning at his confused face. Haechan had been your best friend since you were kids in the sandbox and since then, wherever he was you were likely right beside him.

“Let’s go eat, and you can tell me all about it,” He spun you around, walking you towards the exit.

-

“Maybe you’re being too hard on him,” the boy suggested, playing with his food before taking a bite. That was his habit whenever you ate together, he would mull over his food as if building a masterpiece before devouring an entire plate in a few bites.

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brows at the statement. 

“I mean, I dunno, maybe don���t judge a book by its cover and stuff,” A slight blush rose to his cheeks as he realized how cringey what he had said was. His eyes met yours for a split second before you both let out a few synchronized chuckles.

“That was so bad, Chan,” you reached over to poke his cheek, laughing even harder as his cheeks became a deeper shade of red.

“I mean seriously, can you even name ten things you don’t like about him?” He asked, suddenly raising his brows in a challenging manner.

“Honestly, I could name ten things I hate about him,” you admitted, taking a bite of your food to punctuate your point. He only shook his head in disapproval as a response before continuing.

“Get back to me in a few weeks, I bet you’ll even end up friends. He seems nice from what I’ve heard” he sent a knowing wink your way before calling the waitress over.

As he began talking to the waitress, his question was still lingering in your mind. Ten things you hated about Mark. You already had certain attributes running around in your head, but you wondered how many more you were going to add to your list. 

          1. I hate that he is inconsiderate

           [Monday]

It was only the first day of your study sessions with Mark, and of course he was late. You were sitting at your usual table in the corner of the library, checking your phone for the nth time. He was almost an hour late and you were anything but surprised. The boy didn’t strike you as the type to keep his word.

“Hey, tutor girl,” The voice struck you from your thoughts, coming from someone you didn’t think you’d see today.

“Mark,” You nodded towards the seat across from you, opening the textbook you had sat in front of you. The boy sat silently, a smug grin painted across his face as he looked at you, eyes focused above your head. 

“I had something pop up, sorry about that man,” even his apologies were insincere and annoying. You almost wanted to toss the coffee drink in his hands into the trash, but you found it in yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Whatever, let's just get started,” He nodded in response, glancing down at your textbook with a look of uncertainty, “Did you bring your textbook?” It was then that you realized that he hadn’t brought anything with him, not even a pencil. Of course he was unprepared.

“It’s fine, use mine,” You turned yours around towards him before pointing towards a specific chapter. He nodded in response before flicking his eyes back up in your general direction.

“Today, we’ll start with the basics of analyzing a text. We’ll do ethos, pathos, and logos. It’s pretty simple but it’s gonna help with the essay portion,” You rambled on for a few minutes about the basis of arguments and speeches. His eyes were in the book but you couldn't tell if he was understanding or not. Throughout your explanation, you could see his leg shaking and his fingers tapping on the table. 

“Is there anything you want me to go over?” his eyes were still glued to the book as he looked back up at you. He was smiling, as usual, but something about the look in his eye told you that he was utterly confused. 

“No, Uh, I think I understand,” His taps became a bit more intense until he realized you were watching him and stopped. 

“It’s okay if you don't,” you said mindlessly, “I’m here to help,” as much as you weren’t a fan of Mark, you wanted him to do well. It was a part of the reason you liked tutoring. Seeing someone work hard for something, and helping them get there was one of the best feelings in the world.

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, smiling wider. You didn’t understand why he didn’t just say he needed help since it was literally your job, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Let’s go over it one more time, for my sake,” you went over the material again, using more examples, even some from popular music to explain the definitions he didn’t understand.

“I mean, I already understood, but I get it, more,” He said sheepishly, rubbing his face in his hand. You smiled a bit at the light pink color growing on his cheeks as you switched subjects.

“Okay, I believe you. We have some more material to cover though. Since you’re picking it up so quickly,” you smirked at the last statement, flipping the textbook in front of him to the correct page. You ignored his groan of despair, instead continuing the lesson you had planned.

You had believed after the first lesson, he might be easy to work with, but eventually, you were proved wrong. Mark was an absolute menace. His incessant taps on the table, glances around the room, random babbling, and absolute lack of interest in what you said, was pissing you off. Even the librarian had walked over to tell him to be quiet.

“Let’s take a break,” he suggested, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s been thirty minutes, Mark,” you rolled your eyes, pointing back at the sheet in front of you. He seemed to lose focus often, so you decided making him take notes might help.

“I know, but honestly my brain is full,” he whined, sending puppy dog eyes your way. Usually, you would have been able to say no, but his puckered lip and innocent eyes were beginning to sway you. 

“Fine, ten minutes,” you gave in to a smiling mark, who shot his fist up in excitement. He leaned back in his chair, looking into space with a look you couldn’t decipher. He was visibly deep in thought and you were beginning to feel very awkward as time went on.

“Tutor girl, yeah she’s tutoring me

 I wanna go home cause that’s the place to be,

Wherever I am, the vibe is nice,

Cause I’m cool like ice,” he went on and on rambling random rhymes with the biggest smile on his face. Nothing would have made you happier than saying that it sounded terrible, and while the rhymes themselves were ridiculous, his voice had a certain addictive vibe that made you want to keep listening.

He suddenly stopped, grinning at your lack of words “Shocked into silence, they say I have that effect on people,” he smirked nonchalantly eliciting a groan of annoyance from you.

“I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but your ten minutes are up,” 

“What! It’s been like three at most,” he complained, dropping his head in annoyance.

“Well, at least stop being so loud,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, who lit up once again. 

You sat in silence for a few seconds before he finally spoke, “Why are you so uptight, tutor girl?” The nickname was really beginning to bug you and so was the boy sitting across from you.

“I have a name you know,” you finally comment, ignoring his question. You were fiddling with your fingers under the table, doing anything to keep your mind off of the uncomfortable question he had asked.

“I know, Y/N,” Your eyes shot up at the mention of your name, almost giving you whiplash. 

“So, why do you call me that?” 

“It’s just a nickname,” he shrugged lightly before beginning to beatbox. He was like a child with the shortest attention span you had seen on anyone above the age of fifteen.

“It’s definitely been ten minutes now,” you pushed his paper towards him before beginning the next lesson.

            2. I hate that he really is a mystery

                 [thursday]

“I’ve never been here,” You commented, looking up at your very tall friend, Johnny opening the door for you. He was a few years older than you but you ended up bonding through the tutoring center you both worked at.

The building was a typical cafe with a warm mocha toned interior. It had bookcases lining one wall with two big grandpa chairs watching over the small tables littered around the room. The place was relatively empty, with only a few people taking up two tables near the bookshelves. It was super cozy and inviting which made you question why you hadn’t been there sooner.

“Really? A lot of people from school come here,” you only nodded in response, following the boy towards the register. 

Once inside, you immediately walked to the baked goods section, eyeing the various desserts.  

You were glad Johnny called. You had been stressed out, from your mom riding you about job applications, classes reaching finals time, tutoring Mark, etc etc. It felt like as you got older the weight on your shoulders got heavier and heavier. Everyone in your life needed you to decide on your future and you just weren’t there yet. You couldn't even decide on a pastry let alone where you wanted to be in ten years. 

“Are you ready to order?” Johnny tapped your shoulder, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“Sure,” you nodded, masking the sadness the thoughts had brought on.

You watched as the older boy tapped the service bell before peering over the counter.  “Someone’s coming,” he said, leaning back.

“Hey Johnny, what can I get ya today,” the familiar voice caused your eyes to bulge as you looked up at the owner.

“Tutor girl?” 

“Mark,” you mumbled quietly, nodding in his direction. It seemed as if your problems followed you everywhere.

“You two know each other?”Johnny asked with a grin.

Mark answered quickly “We take lit together,” you frowned at the lack of mentioning the fact that you were his tutor. 

“Ah okay,”

“How do you two know each other?” you asked, only half caring.

“We’ve been friends since his freshman year,” The older boy explained.

“Anyway, what do you want bro?” Mark asked informally, smile bright as he got ready to punch the buttons on the screen in front of him.

“I’ll have an americano, give me like two extra shots,” Johnny looked at you, waiting for your order as Mark tapped on the screen.

“Can I get an americano and a chocolate croissant,” 

“Sure,” the younger boy said absentmindedly.

Johnny reached into his wallet before you could even say anything, looking down at you with a “don’t argue” look. You were used to him paying whenever you went out together or even with other friends, even though you always put up a fight.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark said, pushing Johnny’s card back at him, “on the house,” he explained.

“You sure?” 

“Yeah don’t worry about it,”

“Thank you,” you smiled sincerely, surprised by the gesture.

“He never pays for me,” Johnny said, chuckling as if it were an inside joke before he began looking for a seat.

He finally selected a table in the corner with two chairs beside it, right next to a window. You sat down in the chair, giving the place a once over again. Something had caught your eye this time. You watched as the dark-haired boy darted around behind the register, preparing your drinks expertly. 

“I didn’t know he worked here,” You mumbled absentmindedly, still watching the boy work.

“Yeah, he works at a restaurant too,” Johnny commented, smiling knowingly in your direction. You furrowed your brows as you looked back at him. You didn’t know he had one job, let alone two. 

“Oh,” was all you said, leaving it at that. It seemed like Mark really was a mystery to you. You knew virtually nothing about him. Something about that fact gave you an unsettling feeling that you were too stubborn to think about any further.

             3. I hate that he asks too many questions

                  [Friday]

“I don’t want to gooo,” you whined, fighting against Haechan who was currently pushing you towards the library.

“It’s only the third day. You’re such a baby,” You could practically hear his eyes roll as he stopped in front of the door. He had given you a ride to the library, as he always would if he had time.

“Am not,”

“Are too,” 

“Am not,”

“Are too,” 

“Am not,” Despite how childish it was, you literally stamped your foot, leading to a laughing fit from the two of you. 

“I can’t believe you,” he sighed, lightly shoving you.

“I’m very mature though, on a serious-,” you suddenly stopped speaking as you noticed he wasn’t looking at you anymore, “what is it?” you turned on your heel only to be met with the infamous boy himself.

“Am I too early?” he looked down at his phone with furrowed brows before looking back at you. 

“No, you’re actually on time,” you didn’t mean to come off as passive-aggressive but judging from Mark’s raised brows, you did.

You watched as Haechan reached out to shake Mark’s hand with a friendly smile and a quick mutter of his name. Mark responded by smiling awkwardly before finally reciprocating the gesture. “I’m Mark,” he introduced himself with his world-famous grin before flicking his gaze in your direction.

It was silent for a few moments before Haechan finally said something, “I’ll leave you guys to it,” he smiled one last time, sending you a mischievous look before leaving the two of you alone.

“You ready?” he asked, reaching up to grab the nape of his neck awkwardly. You quickly noticed the Jansport backpack he was sporting. It was a small thing but something about the fact that he came prepared made you feel weird.

“Uhh, yeah,” you opened the door to the library, walking quickly to the usual spot in the corner, Mark trudging quietly behind you.

“I made some flashcards for you,” You began, reaching into your bag and pulling out the index cards that you had put on a binder ring.

“Thanks,” he took the cards from your hand with a smile.

“So that guy’s your boyfriend?” he asked casually while shuffling through the cards.

You jaw all but dropped in shock as you fumbled to find the right words, “absolutely not,” you finally said, “he’s like a brother,” you clarified, waiting for his reaction.

The question made you feel uneasy coming from his mouth. It seemed random and very odd considering neither one of you had ever discussed anything personal.

“Oh, okay. You seem close,” he commented, continuing to look through the flashcards.

“We are, but uh, today lets just talk about your essay structure,” you changed the subject promptly, noticing the grin that was solidifying on his face.

Ten minutes later you could already tell he was distracted, judging by his taps on the table that were rapidly reaching a fever pitch.

He looked in your direction suddenly, “What do you want to do, tutor girl, like after graduation” 

Mark asked you the question like it was the most casual thing to say, like it was comparable to “how was your day” or “what kind of coffee do you like.” No one had really asked you that before, what you wanted to do.

“uh, I’m not sure honestly,” you were unsure of why you were even entertaining the conversation. Had it been asked a few days ago you might have just rolled your eyes and answered with the generic response you had been trained to use.

“Really? You seem like the type to plan everything a hundred steps ahead,” 

You quirked your eyebrow up in surprise “What’s that supposed to mean,” 

A light blush found its way onto his cheeks as he stumbled over his words, “No, it’s just that you, like, seem put together, like you know what you want,” he clarified.

The notion confused you to an extent. You never knew what you wanted. You had spent so long doing what people told you that you should do, that you barely even thought about what you wanted. Honestly speaking, you had only started tutoring because your mother told you it would look good on college applications. You had just so happened to actually end up enjoying it. That was the real reason you always did everything the same way and were what Mark called ‘uptight’.

“I don’t,” you admitted, “I have a hard time knowing what I want,” you trailed off quietly before asking him the same question.

“I want to pursue music, but I’m not sure if it’s practical,” he said shrugging.

“It isn’t practical,” you agreed, smiling lightly at the shocked face Mark sent you, “but if it’s something you want to do, it’s worth trying,” you finished, watching as Mark let out a breath. 

He sighed, “I wish it were that easy,” his table tapping picked up a slow pace. You nodded in agreement, realizing that you were in a similar predicament. “Well, what do you like to do?” he asked suddenly.

“You ask a lot of questions,” you replied simply, playing with the seam of your jeans.

             4. I hate that he’s unbelievably stubborn

                   [Monday]

“Mark, honestly we can just reschedule,” You watched as the boy shook his head, jumping from his previous position.

“No, I’m fine,” he shook his head a few times before gesturing in your direction for you to continue.

The boy kept nodding off throughout your lesson and showing obvious signs that he was in no way capable of learning anything. His eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept all weekend, his eye bags were at least three shades darker than usual, and most importantly he wasn’t making any noises at all. Not even his usual incessant table taps.

“Mark, you did pretty well on the practice quiz, you can take the day off,” you tried to reason with the boy whose eyes were barely open. It looked like he was sleeping with his eyes open.

“No no, y/n,” him using your real name made you feel weird and told you that he was definitely not in the right mind. “You came all the way here, let’s just start,” 

You chuckled lightly at his groggy and barely comprehensible voice as you closed your books. 

“Why are you so tired anyway? Did you work over the weekend?” you found yourself actually curious about his answer, not just asking something random for the sake of it not being awkward.

He answered simply, trying his best to hide a yawn, “yep,” 

You shook your head disapprovingly before finally speaking, “Alright this is what we’re going to do. One more practice test and then please go home and do us both a favor and go to sleep,” 

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” he admitted, sitting upright.

“You’re more of an inconvenience this way because I can't tutor someone who can’t even spell their own name,” I tapped on the corner of his notes, where he had written his name as “mar” leaving the last letter off.

“Fine,” he said finally, lifting his hoodie off of his head.

“You’re so god damn stubborn,” you whispered mostly to yourself.

“I can hear you, y’know,” you smiled at his remark before setting a practice test in front of him.

               5. I hate that he sees what no one else does

                     [Friday]

“Yes, mom,” you paused for a moment, waiting for your mother’s usual rant about how you never did anything right, and how at your age she was already starting her own business, yada yada, the usual. 

“I know,” pause, “I sent them out last week, remember?” pause, “I will,”

“Hey, tutor girl,” Mark greeted, taking his usual seat in front of you. He had a concerned look on his face as he noticed you were on the phone having an unpleasant conversation.

You pulled the phone away from your face, “I’ll be right back,” you shot him a small generic smile before walking outside of the building.

“Y/N if you don’t get it together, I’m going to-” your mother’s voice could be heard despite the fact that you had pulled the phone away from your face.

“I’m in the middle of a tutoring session, I have to call you back later,” you interrupted, pressing the hang-up button soon after.

You took a few long breaths before plastering a smile onto your face and walking back inside the building. You could feel Mark’s eyes on you as you walked towards him trying your best to keep up a strong facade.

“Are you okay,” the concern in his voice as you looked at him almost wiped the smile off of your face.

“I’m fine, let’s get started,”

“It’s okay if you’re not. You can tell me about it,” he paused for a few moments, tapping on the table as he usually did, “I can tell you’re you aren’t,” 

“It’s nothing, let’s just start,” you waved your hand in dismissal.

“If that’s what you want,” he phrased it more like a question than a statement.

“So, today let’s talk about how point of view affects the entire story,” you began your explanation, the fake smile long gone as you gave examples from the required reading. Mark seemed only half interested in what you were saying, which was usually normal, except today you could feel his eyes glued to your face while yours were in the book as you gestured to certain sentences. 

You were not in the mood for his antics and as time passed he was truly starting to bug you. “What!? What are you looking at?” you whisper-yelled in his direction. You found yourself feeling immediately guilty as the boy looked at you in complete and utter shock. His lips had slightly parted into an ‘o’ shape and his brows were slightly raised. His cheeks had even begun turning into a deep red.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” he mumbled, trailing off at the end.

You raised your hand to your head, feeling a headache coming on, “no, I’m sorry. Honestly, I’m a little stressed out,” you admitted.

“It’s okay, you can talk to me about it. Like, if you want,” he looked at you expectantly, with a concerned expression adorning his face.

“It’s just my mom. She has a lot of expectations for me. It’s stressful sometimes, y’know,” he nodded at your words, waiting for you to continue, “It’s overwhelming. I don’t really know what to do. It’s like she’s been controlling my life for so long that I don’t even know what I want to do without her telling me,” you finished. 

It felt good letting it all out, and for some reason, you felt comfortable telling Mark about it. He seemed to really listen to you, like he actually cared. 

“Have you ever talked to her about it?” he asked.

“No, she’s not the best listener,” he nodded again.

“Then I think right now all you can do is try to figure out what you actually want for yourself. Like what’s something you really want to do? Like bucket list stuff,” he asked with wide eyes.

“I dunno, maybe a road trip,” you said the first thing that came to mind, mentally slapping yourself at how lame the answer was. “I’ve never really been anywhere,” you explained simply. “Kind of lame,”

He shook his head, “It's not lame if it’s something you want.” You only nodded in response.

“What you want is important, Y/N. Even if you don't know exactly what that is yet.”

               6. I hate that he is everywhere

                     [monday]

“It’s not my fault,” Haechan rolled his eyes at your shocked expression as he spoke.

“Haechan,” you said slowly, “I really shouldn’t have to explain it to you,” you shook your head in his direction. 

You were walking down the main commons area in your school, killing time before your next class.

“If someone says to you, hey! Can I borrow your hanger, how am I supposed to guess that they’ll-” he stopped speaking suddenly, a smile breaking out on his face, “look there’s your boy,” he nodded slightly in the direction ahead of you.

You looked up, almost immediately spotting Mark. He was smiling brightly as he spoke to a girl beside him. She looked to be familiar, maybe from the year below you. You watched as they laughed together, heads falling back as if they were in a movie. You had to admit, they made a cute couple.

“He’s not my boy,” you shoved your friend with light force, ignoring the tight feeling in your chest.

“Don’t worry, pretty sure she’s dating Jeno. Actually no, I’m super sure, every time I see them, they’re sucking face,” he grimaces at the notion, furrowing his brows tightly as if remembering the image vividly.

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, “Why would I worry?”

“Okay, y/n,” he matched your expression, shrugging in the same way you did.

            7. I hate that his car smells just like him

                   [Tuesday]

“No it’s fine, I’ll just find a way home,” you glanced at Mark, whose eyes were on you already. “No, Haechan don’t worry about it. I’ll text you later,” you hung the phone up and looked up at the boy ahead of you.

After you opened up to Mark the previous week, he had begun taking a seat next to you in class. It seemed like you had become friends, or acquaintances at least. That felt weird to even think about. You and Mark were friends? No, acquaintances, you were just acquaintances. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, gathering his belongings.

“Yea, I just have to walk home,” you answered absentmindedly before standing.

“I can, like, give you a ride,” he offered nonchalantly, standing in front of you.

“You drive?”

He smirked at the question, “just got a new car,” 

“Okay then, if it’s no trouble,” you agreed, nodding at him. It was super weird how comfortable you were around him now. There were still things you very much disliked about him, but getting to know him had shown you that there were some things you hadn’t known at all.

“Alright,” he smiled in your general direction before leading the way. You had grown used to his quick pace, keeping up with ease now. 

“It’s nice right,” he pats the old black car lightly, as if he was afraid something would fall off. 

“Super nice,” you agreed with a grin.

You both walked to your respective sides and slid into your seats quietly. You were immediately hit with the smell of watermelon air freshener and the cologne Mark usually wore. 

“You can put your address in,” he pointed to the GPS on the car and you promptly typed it in.

There was a lasting awkward silence after that, Mark focusing diligently on driving while you were focused on counting the red cars that went by. You wondered how long it would take for someone to say something. Eventually, Mark just put on the radio, hoping to fill the silence.

He winced slightly at the country song that began playing, “You wanna hear one of my songs,” he said suddenly, a small smile accompanying his words.

“Sure,” you were actually curious, seeing as you had never heard him rap seriously, only hearing his mumbles when he was bored.

“Press the acronym one,” he said, handing you his phone, eyes still trained on the road. It was almost comical how focused he was while driving whereas during tutoring sessions he was always distracted.

“Que-tay, uhm, qwe-ta,” you tried pronouncing the acronym, eliciting a laughing fit from Mark. His laugh was so innocent you couldn’t help but smile along even though you didn’t know what was so funny.

“Key-tah,” he finally said with a smile.

“Ah,” you nodded, turning the volume up.

The song started off subtly, with a chill beat that matched the atmosphere in the car. You could see Mark’s light blush peeking from your peripheral as the song went on. By the time the second verse began, Mark was humming along before finally fully rapping alongside himself. Again, you were reminded of how addictive his voice was. 

He seemed so passionate at that moment, so confident. He was showing a side to himself that you hadn’t seen before. Someone so comfortable where he was. Someone truly in their element.

“I get why you want to do music,” you commented as the song ended.

“Why?” 

“You love it. I can tell. It’s like more than just a career for you, it’s a part of you,” you said matter of factly. The statement confused you to some degree. You had never seen someone so comfortable in their element. You hated to admit it but you were even a little jealous.

He smiled at that notion, “It is a part of me. Ever since I was young, my dad taught me how to play guitar and that really just jump started my love for it.” You nodded in understanding before picking a random Frank Ocean song on his playlist. 

“You should come to my showcase next week, I just got offered a spot today,” he said suddenly. You were completely shocked that he had asked you. 

“You can bring your friend, I think our whole class is going. It’s supposed to be an end of finals celebration” ah, everyone was going. 

“Okay,” you accepted simply, heat rushing to your cheeks for an unknown reason.

“just put your number in my phone, I’ll send the details later,”

The car ride from then on was more comfortable. What was once an awkward silence had become a relaxed atmosphere where you and Mark would chat about random things like the music on his playlist or the watermelon screensaver on his phone. 

              8.  I hate that he thinks can pull one over on me

                    [wednesday]

 “tutor girl, what’s up?” Mark crashed down into the seat in front of you, setting down a drink carrier from his cafe and a bag.

“Hi, Mark,” you greeted with a smile, shaking your head at his noisy entrance.

“Here you go,” he pushed an Iced Americano in your direction, following with the white bag.

“Oh, thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you watched the smile on his face widen as he shook his head.

“It’s the least I could I could do for my favorite tutor,” your felt your cheeks get hot until you remembered one very important detail.

“I’m your only tutor, and you still have to take the full practice test,” you said sternly, putting the straw in the coffee quickly.

“Come on,” he whined out before starting a whole argumentative speech about how the practice tests were annoying.

               9. I hate that he doubts himself

                    [thursday]

“I mean, and I say this with full respect,” Mark began, “I truly don’t think I’m going to do that well,” he admitted, toying with the drawstring of his hoodie.

“Mark, just because you say with full respect, doesn’t make it more respectful,” you said with a grin, “but seriously, you’ve been doing so well on your practice quizzes. Over 60% every time, which is way better than what we started with,” you admitted, wincing a bit at the last statement you let slip out.

“Still, that’s not a passing grade,” he shrugged, utterly defeated as he picked up the essay rubric from his desk. His usual brighter than the sun smile had disappeared, leaving you feeling uncomfortably cold.

“Honestly your lack of trust in my tutoring skills is beginning to annoy me,” 

“No, dude, I trust you,” your eyes flew to him at that statement. He was still pondering over the paper in front of him as he continued, “I just feel like I suck at this stupid subject,” he threw the paper back onto the table at that statement.

You found yourself giving a pep talk without even a second thought “No, you don’t. You’re caught on quickly. You’re so smart but you need to stop second-guessing yourself. You’re going to do well. Even better than well because you have my help.”

“Thanks, tutor girl. I appreciate you,” you could tell he was sincere because he had met your eyes, even if just for a split second. It was the first time he had ever looked you in your eyes and it was making you feel things.

“I’m serious though, you are way smarter than you give yourself credit for, and you should know that you are no matter what score you get on this stupid test,” you finish, grinning as the smile returned on his face.

“Okay,” he nodded lightly as he stood waiting for you to join him.

You chuckled lightly at the boy as you looked up at him, “What is it, Mark?” he had a sheepish look on his face as if he was nervous about something other than the obvious.

“uhm well,” He was looking intently at you when you didn’t notice, waiting for any signs that he was annoying you.

“Actually, there’s something I was going to ask you,” a light blush found its way onto his cheeks as he spoke. You nodded in his direction waiting for whatever he had to say, looking up to find his eyes on you. 

At that moment you noticed almost like for the first time how pretty his eyes were. They were so doe-like and innocent, you couldn’t stop staring. 

To outsiders, you both would have seemed very odd as you stood just staring at each other. 

“Well, I-”

“Y/N, hurry- oh shoot, sorry,” Haechan’s voice rang from the doorway, pulling you out of whatever trance you had been in.

“I’m almost done,” you widened your eyes in Haechan’s direction for emphasis, looking back at Mark who had already looked away. “What were you saying, Mark?”

He smiled lightly for a moment, “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing important,”

You furrowed your brows lightly, “You sure.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk later,” 

              10. I hate that I don’t hate him

                   [Friday]

“I told you so,” Haechan was grinning ear to ear as he joined you on your walk to class.

“I could name ten things I hate about him, yeah right,” He laughed to himself suddenly, mocking your old statement. “Imagine my shock seeing your face a few inches away from his. I should’ve taken a picture.”

“Shut up,” you pushed him lightly, finally reaching the door to the lit class.

“I’ll see you afterwards, good luck,” he said, sending you a final wave before walking away.

It was the test date and you were sure that Mark was nervous. As soon as you got into the room, you noticed his fingers tapping violently on the desk, his single mechanical pencil clattering as it jumped around. He was there early, earlier than you were and that was saying something. The room was empty except for the two of you, even despite you being only about fifteen minutes early.

“Mark,” you had to call his name a second time to get his attention. “Mark, relax,” you took the seat next to him and swiftly grabbed his chattering hand in your own. You watched as his leg began bouncing up and down as if it were mocking the pencil’s previous movement, “Mark, breathe,” his eyes were glued to something in the distance, his breath labored.

“Shit, I’m not prepared,” he muttered quietly, “I should have done another quiz,” he breathed out. “and I can’t fucking breathe,” he clenched his brows at the last statement, his breathing coming out as quick huffs.

“Look at me, Mark,” you reached up to turn his chin towards you. “I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” you said the words slowly, hoping to not make it any worse.

“You have to breathe, I’m right here and I’m not going to let go of you,” you squeezed lightly on his hand to emphasize your words.

“You’ve studied and studied. You’ve worked hard. You’re going to do well. All you have to do now is relax and breathe. In and out,” his eyes were glued to yours before he finally closed them altogether and began taking slow deep breaths.

“I’m here with you, and we’re both going to destroy this thing,” he nodded slowly at your words, opening them a few minutes later as his breathing reached a normal pace and his leg stopped bouncing. 

You released his hand in the next second, sending him a small smile.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” was the last thing he said before people began filing into the room.

[Monday]

“I know what you’ve all been waiting for. I have your graded finals,” Your professor had waited until the end of the day to finally share the news, leaving everyone anxious.

It was utterly silent as he passed them around, only the sound of him saying a quick “see me after class,” to Mark, who immediately winced at the statement. You couldn’t help but furrow your brows in confusion, noticing that Mark hadn’t received his test back.

“Class is dismissed,” he pointed towards the doorway after delivering the final test, smiling lightly at the people whose arms were thrown up in celebration.

Your score wasn’t that big of a surprise, you had gotten what was expected of you. You were way more interested in Mark. So you decided to wait outside the door, watching as students filed out.

It seemed like hours had passed while you were waiting for him. You mindlessly scrolled through your phone, completely missing the sounds of someone walking up to you, that someone being Mark himself.

You yelped in surprise as you were lifted off of your feet and spun around in the air.

“What the hell,” was all you said as the boy set you down.

“Y/N, Look!” he exclaimed, handing you the test with a huge eighty-five percent scribbled in red on the top right corner of the sheet.

“Mark, I told you, you could do it,” you hugged the smiling boy, grinning brightly at him.

“I couldn’t have without you, Y/N,” the sincerity in his eyes as they bore into your own was making you melt on the spot. 

“No more tutor girl?” you asked, grin never falling.

“You’ll always be tutor girl but, uh,” he paused as if deep in thought for a moment, “I really like spending time with you. I think it will be weird not seeing you all the time,” you nodded in agreement, realizing that the semester had ended, meaning it was summer break.

“Well, we’re friends now right. We can still hang out,” you offered, watching as the boy looked down with a look you couldn’t decipher.

“Um, I know we’re friends, but,” he stepped a little closer to you, “I was wondering like, y’know if it’s possible, if you maybe wanna,” he continued to stumble over his words. You couldn’t help but smile at his very awkward, very cute way of asking you what you already knew he was getting at.

“Mark, do you want to go out sometime,” you finally blurted, chuckling at his pink face. 

“Yes, I would like that a lot,” he said nodding.

“I don’t know if you knew but uhm, I mean it was before, but basically um, I’m sorry I judged you before, Mark,” you apologized suddenly watching as he shook his head in dismissal. It had been on your mind for a while even despite him not knowing.

“I knew you felt that way before. That’s kind of why I was so like reluctant to have you as my tutor,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed lightly.

“That’s why you were so weird the day he told us,” you nodded in understanding remembering the look Mark gave you when you were first introduced, as if you spat in his drink. In his defense you deserved it.

“Honestly, yeah,” he confessed, “but in your defense, I am kind of an acquired taste,” 

“That’s not an excuse. I was an idiot,” you admitted, “Mark, you’re amazing,” he smiled lightly at your last statement, taking the time to just look at you. His brown eyes were like a pool, drawing you in until you sank, unable to stop staring.

He reached out, cupping your cheek with his hand before speaking, “Can I kiss you?”

You only nodded in response, waiting patiently as he lowered his head towards your face until he was less than a centimeter away. It felt like hours had passed until his lips grazed yours, allowing a tingling sensation to move throughout your body.

 In a flash, your arms were around his neck and he was holding onto you delicately, like you would break if he was too rough. He tasted like a mixture of mint and watermelon gum. His warm foresty and floral scent was filling your senses, actively intoxicating you as his lips moved against yours rhythmically. The kiss was greater than any apology you could have given him since it was full of the emotion you couldn’t fully articulate. Mark was fully focused on you in the moment, lips moving against yours like a magnet.

“I told you to become friends, not make out in public,” you heard Haechan’s voice interrupt, causing you to immediately pull away from the boy in front of you. You couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably at Haechan's mortified face and Mark’s intense blush.

“Sorry,” Mark muttered quietly, smiling as he looked down at you.

Haechan walked towards the older boy, looping a hand around his shoulder as he spoke, “Y’know, I always saw this coming. She said she didn’t like you, but a best friend always knows,” you could only shake your head as Mark looked back at you as if asking for help. You could hear Haechan going on and on about his premonitions as you trailed behind the two boys, feeling a sense of happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Mark was someone you could never see yourself with. He was loud, always distracted, obnoxious, stubborn, and mysterious. But he was also kind, deliberate, hard-working, smart, infectiously positive, and beautiful. You didn’t know when the thought struck you, but as you looked up at the brunette boy walking ahead you finally knew what you wanted. You wanted him by your side for as long as possible.

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

It’s incredible how throwing together an essay for classes can make you not want to even think about words for a day. In unrelated news, I made a lot of progress in my Minecraft world, and did some graphing in the process!

Anywhos, time to get into Izuku’s first day of class and all that fun shenanigans (which might be on the Sunday before the actual first day? | April 8th/9th or sommat like that.) I’ll try to get first shots of characters when they pop up, though most show up in the next chapter I think?

[No. 5 - Smashing Into Academia]

We enter into Spring, as well as Izuku preparing to head out for school! Inko is worried about Izuku forgetting something, and I find it hilarious that she is reminding him to bring pocket tissues and a handkerchief. Family of quick criers, them. 

Izuku promises he has everything and is in a hurry to make it to class on time, but Inko holds him back one last time to tell him he looks great in his school uniform. We get a full body shot of his uniform (though from the side) and so we get the first view of the abomination he makes of his tie. Also, a small thing:

Obviously perspective makes it a bit awkward to be sure, but you can kind of see how much he’s grown over the year since the start of the series (which is hilarious to say when we’re four and a half chapters in). 

Anyways, another view of the school, which just has such an odd design in my opinion. I’m sure there’s good reasons for it or it’s based on some landmark / building I don’t know about but Hori is referencing. We next jump to Izuku rushing down a hall, looking for 1a while noting how huge the place is, while noting that less than 1 in 300 applicants get into the hero course - 36 to a grade, divided into two classes of 18. (Plus the two per class that come in from recommendations, but that gets mentioned later.)

He finds the door (which is like almost four times as tall as him), all his anxiety flaring up about how his class will be the elites from that exam, and how he hopes that ‘those scary guys’ (Katsuki and Tenya) are in the other class. 

I’m sorry I’m cackling. Poor anxious bean. He immediately gets to find out that he is, in fact, sharing a class with them both. We also get our first peek of Kaminari, Mineta and some of Ojiro! 

Knock off brand Kaminari… his hair is so fucking weird like this, I can’t even.

Anyways, Tenya is snapping at Katsuki to get his feet off the desk since it’s insulting to UA and the people who made said desk. Katuski blows him off (metaphorically) and demands to know what school Tenya is from. When Tenya offers it as well as his name, Katsuki calls him a ‘stuck up elitist’ who he should ‘blow to bits’, which has Tenya questioning whether he really wants to become a hero.

Tenya then notices Izuku, who is still peeking from the doorway and is startled when he gets noticed. He marches over and tries to introduce himself again, like he practiced this speech dozens of times in the mirror or with the begrudging aide of his older brother in the month between the exam and the first day of class or something. (Poor, poor Tensei.) Izuku cuts in long enough to mention he heard that already, and introduces himself.

Tenya pushes on with his totally-not-prepared-in-advance apology speech, declaring that Izuku had perceived the true nature of the exam while he had not, and that he’d misjudged him, before declaring Izuku the superior candidate through grit teeth. Izuku, meanwhile, thinks that he didn’t perceive anything - which in its own way proves more how he earned his spot; he didn’t rescue Ochako for points, but because he was driven to save her.

Katsuki finally notices Izuku and is not pleased, while we get a shot of the wider class and get to confirm that Aoyama, Asui, Ojiro, Shouji, Jirou, Tokoyami, Hagakure, and then Katsuki and Kaminari again- wait a fucking second.

When the fuck did their rows move around? And when did Ojiro teleport to the other side of the classroom?? What the HELL? I mean, Katsuki and Kaminari are still oriented the same against each other and could technically fit into their second noted spots, but like, I. You know what, nevermind, just assume that was an editing mistake and move on with my life.

Izuku gets spooked again when Ochako appears behind him in the doorway, with her recognizing him by his hair and as ‘the plain looking boy’, while Izuku notes her as ‘the nice girl’ and calls her cute in her uniform, which is adorable. Also, confirmation on the toe finger beans! Also, while she does have some blush marks on her cheeks, it’s not those round circle blush marks like from the anime… suppose we’ll see if those develop.

Ochako is glad he got in like Present Mic said he would, especially with that cool punch of his. Izuku is blushing up a storm and stammering out his thanks for her speaking on his behalf. While she asks how he knows that, we get to focus on Katsuki as we head into a delicious flashback about when they were congratulated on getting into UA.

Their homeroom teacher calls Izuku’s success ‘a miracle we never expected’ while giving a chuckle. This is apparently news to Katsuki, what with the look he gives to Izuku. We can see the buds just coming in on the trees outside - it is March, after all - and Katsuki’s pulled Izuku to the side and shoves him against a wall to ask what dirty tricks he used to get in, which is like. I’m impressed he thinks Izuku can somehow cheat his way into the top school. 

Katsuki logic: There's no way this guy who's just behind me in class scores and with a buttload of determination, who I saw at the entrance exam, could possibly have managed to figure out a way to defeat the robots and get in; no, he must have cheated and tricked the teachers and staff of the top school in the country, which would be arguably even harder and draw more attention than fighting the robots in the first place.

Ah, what a fucking gremlin. He goes on about how he was supposed to be the first and only, and how Izuku tore his grand plans to shreds, and how he’d told Izuku to go somewhere else.

And then! Izuku grabs his arm with both hands, and we get to see him stand up for himself once again:

Friendly reminder that, once again, Izuku is not afraid to stand up to Katsuki where it matters. Also, look at that, he does believe he earned his place in UA, and refuses to back down on becoming a hero now that he has someone who believes in him and is backing him up. God just. The shift in dynamics in this scene, where Izuku is first pushing himself as an equal and with just as much right to aim for heroics and be in UA as Katsuki. It’s fucking gorgeous. 

We return to the present as Katsuki thinks about how Izuku actually stood up to him, and how there’s something fishy about the whole thing. Meanwhile, Ochako notes that that day is entrance ceremony and guidance sessions, and wonders what their teachers will be like, while Izuku is desperately trying to hide how red his face is from having an extended conversation with a cute girl.

I don’t feel like I have anything to add, this is probably the funniest introduction we will ever get to a character. Just, the way he’s just lying there on the floor. The way the two stare at him. The way he just pulls out that jelly pouch and sucks it all down in one go. The entire class united in their ‘what the FUCK’ as he gets up while still in the sleeping bag.

Discord:

What a legend. Also, a face of regret:

Anywho, Aizawa pulls himself out of his sleeping bag while noting it took the class eight seconds to quiet down, before mentioning that time is a precious resource and that they (the class) aren’t very rational. Which I know comes as a shock when considering they’re teenagers, the most rational and logic-minded age group in existence. 

The class realizes that the hobo who walked into their class is, in fact, their teacher, while Izuku determines that he’s also a pro hero - but interestingly, he doesn’t recognize him at all. Aizawa introduces himself by his name and that he’s their homeroom teacher, which surprises all of them again. He then pulls out a school gym uniform (from the sleeping bag!) while telling them to get changed and head out to the grounds.

Wow, I really hope he recently washed and changed into a clean uniform and shoes, or else this is really, really, REALLY awkward. Hell, I mean it already is, but like. There’s dramatic and then there’s whatever the fuck is happening here.

(Honest to god, this is THE most Extra™ and Dramatic™ bastard in the entire series. I cannot even begin to explain the levels of Extra™ happening here.)

Discord:

We briefly move over to Toshinori, who’s reading the Secret Faculty Registry. Which makes me wonder how many people on the staff are actually known to be teaching there by the public. Like, we know Present Mic and Midnight have to be well known staff members, but like, how many more are kept secret? Eraserhead is obvious because he’s underground, and All Might just is not someone you can reasonably hide. But like, in the USJ, the kids are surprised to see Thirteen, so like… what’s the minimum ‘roster’ they keep for the public facing side while the rest are kept quiet so that villains don’t try to target them or the students of UA to get to them?

I mean, look at those security keypads on the doors, they probably go to a decent length to protect their staff and schedules… a shame those all can be worked around with a decay quirk.

But yeah, Toshinori notes that the UA system is like no other, with the homeroom teachers conducting - well, what leads into Aizawa’s test, but I have to wonder whether any of the other teachers have ‘extra’ little tests or showcases they do with their homerooms. Definitely nothing as extreme as Aizawa ‘Plus Extra™’ Shouta, though. Anyways, we go back to the kids in their uniforms who are being introduced to his test - which will apparently be a test of their quirks. (Also, that CURSED bootleg Tokoyami.) 

Ochako asks about the entrance ceremony and guidance sessions, and Aizawa says there’s no time to waste on it if they want to become heroes. And again, with bringing up that ‘freestyle’ educational system and how that applies to the teachers, and knowing how Nezu lives for chaos… yeah, I really have to wonder what the other classes were going through for ‘orientation’.

He then brings up the eight standard gym tests done in middle school - softball throw, standing long jump, 50-meter dash, endurance running, grip strength, side-to-side stepping, upper-body training, and seated toe touch. He notes that the country insists on prohibiting quirks in calculating averages on those records, and considers it irrational, saying that the Department of Education is procrastinating. 

Don’t you love having flashbacks in chapter 5 of the manga?

Aizawa asks Katsuki how far he could throw in middle school, to which Katsuki replies 67 meters. Aizawa throws him a softball and tells him to try it with his quirk, and that he can do whatever so long as he doesn’t leave the circle, so give it all he’s got. Katsuki stretches a bit and winds up, and just:

This is exactly the sort of nerd who would come up with the hero name he currently has. Also, I was just reminded that technically, Izuku is supposed to be ‘narrating’ all this to some unknown audience, which makes all these internal thoughts for Katsuki and others in retrospect even funnier since he had to ask them what they were doing/thinking at the time. Especially the villain stuff, like, dude, what did you do to find out this stuff? Or worse, did you make it up for dramatic effect?

Anyways, Katsuki sends that softball rocketing away, with smoke rings following in its wake. The dust from the blowback wooshes past the other students (and oof, Jirou there wincing at the noise, poor girl, being put in a class with such loud classmates); when the ball finally hits the ground and rolls to a halt, it’s still smoking. Aizawa notes the distance - 705.2 meters - and shows it off to the class while noting how it’s important to know their limits, as their first rational step to figure out what kind of heroes they’ll be.

The class gets into how awesome this is, and how great the hero course is; meanwhile, Izuku is panicking over these events he didn’t know were coming. Aizawa is silent for a moment before echoing their ‘awesome, you say’ back to them. He puts on another dramatic loom as he says that they’re aiming to be heroes after three years, and asks whether they really think it’s all fun and games. He then declares that the lowest score across all eight events will be judged hopeless and expelled, which has the whole class shouting in shock while Izuku panics more.

We briefly jump to Toshinori again, who in turn is noting that Aizawa will be nothing but trouble, as it shows the man’s codename ‘Eraserhead’ and that he’s expelled 154 students by that point. 

Back to Izuku, who is still panicking as he thinks about how he’s still all or nothing, and can’t regulate his power. Aizawa, still being a dramatic bitch, runs his hand back through his hair while declaring that the student’s fates are in UA’s hands, and welcomes them to UA’s hero course. The other students are dredging up their determination, while Izuku’s narration asks what he can do.

God, why do people not write Aizawa ‘Plus Extra™’ Shouta being so overly dramatic more often? He’s like AVPM Snape levels of dramatic. Maybe even AVPM Malfoy. 

As a sendout, from the discord:

[icecoldflames]

Gold Star (Sanders Sides)

Human AU

Romantic Analogical

Background Romantic Royality

***

Virgil’s eyes flashed open. His alarm went off. The sun streamed in through his window. It’s going to be a good day today, he thought to himself as he heaved himself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

He padded over to his closet and opened it, eyeing his clothes. Virgil didn’t often care about his outfit. Usually, he just wore his usual hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Nothing too loud. But today he wanted to try something new.

Virgil’s eyes glanced over to his fancy clothes. He ran his hand over his purple tie but then immediately dropped it. No, that wasn’t the look he was going for.

He eventually settled on a purple plaid shirt with a black tee underneath along with a pair of jeans. Good, he thought to himself as he looked in the mirror. Something different but not too different.

Forty five minutes later, he climbed aboard the bus and sat down next to his friend, Roman, who looked him up and down appreciatively. “I see you’ve upped your style today. What’s new?”

Virgil shrugged, a grin creeping up on his face. “Oh, nothing.”

Realization dawned on Roman’s face. His eyes widened. “You’re getting your Math test and English essay back today, aren’t you?”

Virgil nodded in delight and his heart fluttered.

“I swear, Virgil,” Roman began, “if you get a higher mark than Logan, please don’t shove it in his face and if he gets the higher mark, don’t start a fight. I’m begging of you.”

“I can’t promise anything.” Virgil said, dropping the smile and putting on an annoyed expression. “Logan just gets on my nerves so much. Who does he think he is?!” He griped.

Roman sighed and crossed his arms. “Alright but I’m not going to pull you out from a fight again.”

The bus came to a halt and some other kids boarded the bus.

“Don’t worry, Ro. That was forever ago.” When I did hate Logan, he added in silently. “Besides, he started it.” That wasn’t true but Roman didn’t know that.

Roman huffed. “I think I know what it feels like to be an exasperated mom…”

When the bus finally arrived at the high school, Virgil told Roman he’d meet him at his locker in a bit.

Virgil’s locker was right next to Logan’s. Virgil knew Logan arrived at school at promptly 7:30 and stayed in the library until five minutes before the bell where he would head to his locker to pick up his books for first period.

As Virgil neared his locker, a pair of feet caught up to him and began to match his pace. “Virgil.” Logan said with a curt nod. He had a book under his arm: The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.

Virgil’s heart fluttered. Logan was wearing his usual black-collared button up with a blue tie. Most of the other kids thought he was a bit excessive with his tie but Virgil really liked it. It suited him really well. Virgil put a disinterested look on his face along with his signature scowl. “Logan.” He was early—it was ten minutes before the bell, not five.

They both arrived at their lockers at the same time but Logan was the first to unlock it and swing his open.

Out of his peripheral view, Virgil watched as Logan carefully placed his book on the top shelf before methodically grabbing his Math textbook and binder. He put his pencil case and book on top of that.

Virgil began unpacking his bookbag which didn’t have much in it—just some random stuff like gum and his Chemistry homework. Logan took Biology.

Virgil, just slightly, wished he had chosen Biology even though he was terrible at remembering terms and parts of a cell. Just seeing Logan again for another hour would have made up for his cruddy mark in that class. Then again, if he took Bio, he would lose a lot more in their competition.

Their competition started last year when Virgil moved here. He and Logan were put in the same Math class and the teacher would give out a sticker to the top grade every test or assignment.

Roman told him that, last year, he had heard that Logan had received the gold star every single time. For the entire year.

Virgil had called the whole thing stupid when Roman explained. “What are we?” He had asked Roman with a scoff. “Kindergarteners? A gold sticker?” The whole thing had sounded absurd.

Virgil liked math. It was weird, but he found doing equations were therapeutic. That first unit, Logan had gotten the two gold stars. Virgil hadn’t minded. Again, gold stars were childish in his books.

But then the second math unit was trigonometry. And Virgil loved any type of math that had to do with shapes. And, that first assignment he had scored a 100% and gotten the gold sticker. He experienced great joy that class feeling Logan’s fiery stare boring holes into him.

Virgil had turned to Logan with triumph gleaming in his eyes. “Feeling glum there, Logan?” He had goaded. He hadn’t gotten an answer.

Virgil received the gold star on the trig test too. A 97% while Logan had gotten a 95%. He found that he enjoyed that golden star that the teacher had probably bought at a dollar store.

The next unit was algebra and Virgil was just half percent away from Logan’s 99% and gold star. Logan had looked so triumphant as he flashed the gold sticker in Virgil’s direction. He made a dramatic frown as Virgil scowled in the corner.

And so it went on like that for the rest of the year: Logan and Virgil trying to out-do each other and receive the gold star.

At one point, maybe during the quadratic unit, it had gotten so intense that Virgil almost started a physical fight with Logan after the tests came back and Logan had received the gold sticker. The teacher stopped giving them out after that.

But that didn’t stop anything. Both Logan and Virgil were far too gone to let that stop anything. While the gold sticker was no longer there, their percentage still was.

That summer, Virgil got a job at a LGBTQ+ youth camp with Roman as counsellors. And, lo and behold, Logan had gotten a job there too as a lifeguard.

That was when something changed between them. And not because Virgil often saw Logan shirtless up on that lifeguard chair or walking out of the shower.

It was nighttime when all of the campers were gone to sleep. Or, at least, they thought.

Logan and Virgil had been paired up to do one last sweep of the main campground. It was, understandably, tense until they heard a child’s whimpering off in the distance.

It was terrifying. It had been dark, the paths in the woods filled with tree roots, and the only flashlight they had had run out of batteries. So they were looking for a child in the woods using only the moonlight. Thank goodness it had been a full moon.

Once they found the child (he had gone off to pee in the woods because all of the other stalls had been filled and apparently he really had had to go. He had gotten lost once he had finished), Logan and Virgil had been inches away from each other outside of the boy’s bunkhouse. Virgil had been sure that they were about to kiss but then Patton, another counsellor, had poked his head out of the bunkhouse, asking if they were alright.

They didn’t bring that moment up again.

This year, Virgil shared two classes with Logan: Math and English. They didn’t have the gold star teacher. The competition was still there, maybe with even more vigor, but something else was behind their jabs at one another.

Virgil prayed that Logan felt it too because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he found that Logan didn’t harbour the same feelings as he did.

He grabbed his math books and stuff and then left to go find Roman before the warning bell rang. “Good luck,” he sneered as he passed Logan.

“You’re going to need it,” Logan retorted, not even glancing up at Virgil.

“Please tell me you’re feeling calm,” Roman said as he saw Virgil.

Virgil took in a dramatic breath and breathed out loudly. “I’m fine.” He said with a roll of his eyes. “So, how was last night?” He asked, changing the subject. Patton and Roman had gotten together recently. They had met at camp last summer but that was when their friendship was formed. Their romantic relationship had started just a couple of days ago.

Roman didn’t seem to notice the subject change. “Oh, it was amazing. To be honest,” he said in a whisper, grinning, his face flushed pink, “I could hardly concentrate on the movie…we were holding hands and his laugh whenever there was a joke was just so cute. I can’t wait until you get a boyfriend and then we can all go on double dates!”

Virgil thought about Logan and just smiled. “That would be so fun.”

***

When Virgil made his way into Math after the bell rang, Logan was already sitting in his assigned seat. Virgil found his own, across from Logan and against the wall.

Logan didn’t even acknowledge Virgil as he sat down, just kept reading his book. Every so often he would push up his glasses when they slipped too far down his nose.

As soon the teacher walked in the two of them immediately straightened up and Logan put away his book with a bookmark filled with old gold stars. Probably just to spite Virgil.

But that was okay. Virgil had his phone case decorated with his gold stars.

When the last student trickled in and the bell rang again the teacher began passing back the tests they had done last week.

It hadn’t been a difficult test but it hadn't been necessarily easy either. The only thing Virgil was worried about was that last word problem where he wasn’t sure if he had plugged in the numbers right.

Logan’s test was passed back first. Virgil stretched his neck and straightened his spine even more. 99%. Logan grinned over at Virgil, his eyes twinkling. ‘Beat that,’ he mouthed.

Virgil pursed his lips. He had to get a 100 if he was going to win. Then again, he still had the English essay later on in the day so even if he didn’t get a 100% he might beat Logan with the essay.

The teacher walked over to Virgil and he held his breath as she placed the test on his desk. 100%. Yes.

He didn’t even bother waiting for Logan to crane his neck at an awkward angle. He pulled up the side of his test with the mark on it and gave him the middle finger with his free hand. Virgil grinned over at him.

Logan scowled.

“Got a little overconfident there, didn’t you Logan?” Virgil said, rubbing it in. His cheeks hurt from so much grinning.

Calm settled on Logan’s face. He pushed up his glasses, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair. “We still got one more today, Virgil. Don’t get too cocky. I do write a sublime essay.”

Virgil chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

***

Their research essays counted for quite a bit of their English mark. It could be on anything they wanted but they had to take a side. Of course, it had to be appropriate for school. They had started preparing for it almost a month ago and now it was the moment of truth.

Virgil had decided to write his research essay on how cellphones have a positive impact on youths (maybe not always positive but they weren’t 100% bad). Logan must have seen Virgil’s topic somehow although he couldn’t figure out how because Logan’s topic was on how cellphones have a negative impact on youths.

Virgil wasn’t even sure that Logan believed that.

Their English teacher was known to be a hard marker so, when Virgil got his essay back and saw the 85 he mentally fistbumped the air. He was going to win this. He lifted his paper so Logan could see his mark behind him.

When the teacher gave back Logan’s essay Virgil spun in his chair and snapped his head down to look at Logan’s mark: 89. Logan smiled triumphantly up at Virgil. “Look who’s overconfident now.”

“Draw,” Virgil sniffed. He had won Math, Logan English. It would have been nice to win both but one was better than none.

Logan smiled as he put his test in his binder smugly. “Sure.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and turned back around to face the front.

***

When the last bell rang Virgil saw Logan already at his locker, piling in books into his blue bookbag.

Virgil pursed his lips as he neared his locker and Logan. He opened his locker and began packing his backpack as well. “Hey,” he finally said, swallowing his pride. “Can I read your essay?”

Logan glanced up at him with slightly narrowed eyes. Suspicious eyes. “Why?”

Virgil shrugged. “I just want to see what arguments you used. Do you even believe that cellphones have a negative effect on youths or did you just choose that because I was doing the opposite?”

Logan grinned but didn’t say anything. He just grabbed his essay and handed it over to him.

“Well?” Virgil prompted. He wanted to know how Logan figured out his topic. It wasn’t like they shared their topics before writing them.

“Oh, I’m pretty neutral on the debate on cell phones. I could have gone either way, to be honest. But I overheard you talking to Roman about your topic outside of the library and,” he shrugged and gave a toothy smile that made Virgil remember that night at camp, “I just thought it would be fun to do the opposite argument that you were doing.”

Virgil had no recollection of speaking to Roman about his topic but it sounded about right. But then a memory resurfaced and he scrunched up his nose. “Hey, no. I told Roman about my topic when we stayed behind to help Ms. Morrison organize her textbooks to get volunteer hours!”

Logan flushed a deep pink and Virgil’s stomach did a little flip.

“I don’t think so,” Logan said quickly, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure I was in the library.”

But the memory was becoming clearer now. Virgil’s eyes widened in realization. “You were spying on us!” He breathed.

“No—”

“—Yes,” Virgil cut Logan off, nodding his head vigorously. “Or you overheard us…whatever. No difference.”

The crowds around the hallway were beginning to thin out. Logan sighed. “Okay, fine. I was just running back into school because I forgot my book and I overheard you in Ms. Morrison’s class.” His face was still pink as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Virgil grinned as he shut his locker. “Okay.”

“It’s true!” Logan exclaimed hotly, closing his own locker and swinging his backpack onto his back.

Virgil began to walk to the bus line. Roman was probably wondering where he was.

He knew Logan walked home so he was surprised to hear his footsteps trailing behind him. “Hey, listen. I got something for you.” Virgil was so used to their witty banter that he was caught off guard when he heard how genuine Logan’s voice was.

Virgil spun around in surprise and waited for Logan to catch up. “What? Really?” He raised his eyebrows.

“It’s-it’s nothing really,” Logan fumbled, digging around in his jean pocket. “It’s just a little trinket I saw at the store and thought…” he shrugged and pulled out a gold star keychain.

For a long moment, Virgil stared at it. “But I tallied it up last week, overall you’ve won!” He had gone through all of his old tests and assignments, curious to see who was in the lead. Logan had been ahead by two tests. “I mean,” Virgil amended, “thank you, but why?” Why would Logan give him a gold star keychain if he wasn’t winning?

Logan ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Because I think you’re intelligent.” He pushed up his glasses and coughed awkwardly. “And I really like you.”

Virgil froze but then hesitantly took the keychain from Logan’s hand. He looked at it closely before carefully clasping it onto his bookbag. “Truce?” He asked, holding out his hand.

Logan smiled and took Virgil’s hand. “Truce,” he repeated. He cocked his head to the side. “So does this mean you like me too?”

Virgil grinned. “What do you think?” He laughed and intertwined his fingers with Logan’s. By now, the entire hallway was empty and Virgil was sure that the busses had already left.

They walked down the hall hand in hand.