#if i wrote my essays within an hour or so like i did my reviews..

[leesungjongg]

While You Were Sleeping Review~

Honestly.. I think I’ve forgotten everything I’ve wanted to say at this point, and I should seriously just take sticky notes with me everywhere from now on just so I can jot down notes of what I liked and disliked about the dramas I watch. Sigh. But I’ll try to remember what I can and tell you all about it, because I love telling stories. Spoilers ahead, just a warning!!

Ok so honestly the most ridiculous thing I remember happening in the drama was literally like.. Jongsuk being shot and dying……. And then when he’s like flatlining, he says “no. i must live… to tell hong joo im sorry” and i was like omfg bruhHH if that actually happened like irl LMAOOOO

That was like one of the things I knew I really wanted to talk about. There was also one other thing that i was like mhm… on but i forgot what it was so. It doesn’t matter. Unless i remember. Then it DOES matter LMAO

Can we also talk about Mr. Choi? :(((((((((( literally wtf like dude i liked him but i literally was so soooo sad when he died LIKE WTF THAT WASN’T FAIR WTH WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM HE DIDNT EVEN DO ANYTHING WRONG T___________________T my heart hurt when he died. that was so cruel. I’m grateful he saved jaechan and hongjoo. Im sad he didn’t reveal himself sooner. He played such an important role in jaechan’s life, mostly jaechan, because i dont remember much about hongjoo and him besides that one moment at yubeom’s trial.

On that note, Yuboem deserved that life sentence man. I was like oh god what if they like.. Make him do like 20 years, that’s not even enough to make him pay. He was horrible, absolutely horrible. Honestly I wanted to go in there and punch him like jaechan almost did but gosh DARN it Mr. Choi had to step in and say ‘hey, it’s not a good idea’ and T________T he seriously did whatever he could. I totally wasn’t even expecting him to be the one from so long ago, but when the scenes from earlier in the drama came back up again, all the puzzle pieces fit together and it made SENSE. I was like ‘omfg thank you Mr. Choi, for being there for them, for doing whatever you could for Jaechan and Hongjoo, you are the REALEST.’ such a wonderful human being. And he knew how he was going to die too, ugh. UGH. UGH UGH UGH. NO. im still sad.

Now i’ll get into the characters LOL

Jaechan: i love lee jongsuk. Like idek what else to say. I just love him. He’s really tall but with great height comes great awkwardness and omfg. I loved his dorky character sooo much. He is literally my baby and forever will be my baby even though he’s like.. So much older than me idek. He’s 8 years older than me rip. Still my baby tho. Lov u. OMFG IS HE SUNGGYU’S AGE? WAIT SUNGGYU IS OLDER THAN HIM? AM I WRONG? Tell me im wrong. Im RIGHT? By a few months.. Anyway it doesnt matter bc they’re both still super cute and im melting rn dont mind me. This was pointless i didnt even talk about jaechan. I loved the fact that he became a prosecutor because his dad told him to, i love the fact that he became rivals with his old childhood tutor who left him in the dust after that motorbike incident, and i love the fact that he looked over everything just to make sure he didn’t miss a single spot. Yubeom tried to be like ‘oh, you will all fall like me, i slipped up but i just got caught. When you get caught, you’ll be in prison with me’ and jaechan was like ‘nah son, you literally brought this upon yourself. You tried to make the wrong answer the right one and it didnt work out. Ur not unlucky. You’re just bad. *drops mic* *crowd cheers* *happy ending for all* *and a fkc you i mean life sentence to yubeom*’

Yubeom: ROT IN HELL. I am forever shaking my head and tsking at him for LIFE. he honestly deserved that life sentence idgaf. Like.. how evil can you get? Man.. my brain hurts im not in the mood to be angry at this fictional character. Good job person who played the character. Whats his name. Lee Yangseob. Good job on making me hate you, you despicable Yubeom you… good job at acting….. I still hate u…

Hongjoo: suzy is so amazing. Dude like despite her having those kinds of dreams at the start, she still tried really hard to prevent them from happening, and it was so horrible. Like i would literally be afraid of falling asleep or smth like that. Also why was it almost always death? Like i guess it added to the drama but omfg if i saw myself die in a dream and i knew at some point it would come true like...idek man. Wouldn’t you get traumatized by it? Like ‘crap all these people are dying and i cant do anything about it’ DUDE!! Jaechan even told her to forget about it but then he was still unnerved by it too omfg. In this case, it worked out because they all tried saving each other and stuff but what if they didn’t know each other? What would’ve happened then? I hope hongjoo would’ve still been able to go on and become a reporter or something like that. If not a reporter, then someone who went and told the news from those desks and stuff. But i guess she liked being on the scene more, who knows. Im just blabbing at this point idek what im saying. I do but im lazy to backspace sigh.

Wootak: :((((((((( my honeybunch sugarplum, pumpie umpie umpkin… he’s literally so adorable. I loved the fact that he tried to fit all the puzzle pieces together and jaechan was like nah that can’t be… hongjoo wasn’t chestnut (son… wootak’s detective skills i stg. He’s amazing. No wonder he stayed in the police force for so long dang) I knew he wouldn’t be able to get hongjoo so i was just like it’s ok, i will give u my heart instead ok. Even though i also love jongsuk, i have enough love to give to u all. Im glad he didn’t become one of those ‘I WANT THE MAIN GIRL CHARACTER’ person like im so tired of it lol but he was a sweetheart from beginning to end. Honestly when he was like ‘stick to a secret to the end’ and hongjoo was like hm… what’s his secret? I was like oh my god. Did he kill someone???? What if he killed someone and became a police officer to make up for it? Wtf BUT THEN he just turned out to be color blind so i was happy with that. I didnt know you couldn’t be a police officer if you were colorblind omfg. The more you know. But seriously :( such a sweetheart. I love that despite crushing on hongjoo, and knowing that jongsuk really liked her too, he 1) didn’t get in the way of their relationship, even though he honestly COULD HAVE, and 2) he didn’t hold anything against jaechan. Maybe it’s because he saved him from dying, idk. But i loved their friendship so much. I would love to have Wootak as a friend. I felt so bad for him when he told his police partner that he had been carrying the weight of that for so long, but think of how much relief he felt when everything spilled out. It’s hard to keep secrets, because it’ll eventually fall apart. We’re not superhuman… talking to you wootak, wearing those batman clothes… secretive.. But still fighting for what’s right. Im glad he went on the path to become a lawyer after quitting his police job. I hope he continues to spend time with his police partner though. I wish there was more interactions between them and also between wootak and jaechan, i loved them both so much.

Anyways, i think this has gotten long enough… overall, i’d say this drama is really nice. I really liked it, even though at like a few parts i was like dude… this is extra and not needed. But honestly, the characters were amazing, especially yubeom. Idk how yangseob could pull off a character like that, but he was amazing. OMG I REMEMBERED WHAT I WANTED TO SAY. I really liked the idea of having your dreams come true… in some kind of twisted way, maybe not so much… but still, it was interesting, and i was waiting to see what would happen next. I would recommend it if people like these kinds of AUs i guess. I liked that the love triangle was less… like less. Idk how to explain it. But i also really liked the plot and how everything came together and clicked. Im sure there are some things that i’ve overlooked or smth, things that i probably didn’t realize needed more clarification, but it was still nice. I was also surprised at the two prosecutors getting married xD that was nice. A nice plot twist. That’s a random addition but i wanted to include it :P

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Dance With Me Under the Stars

@yeah-im-a-fae-deal-with-it, I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun making it and I hope I did the wishes justice. Happy Holidays!! (Much of the imagery was based on the song Volcano by The Vamps.)

@sanderssidesgiftxchange

Word Count: 3993

It was mid semester and Virgil had arrived late to class for the first time in his three years of college. He hurried in quietly, taking his usual seat and pulling his books out. Almost shamefully, he grabbed his homework and walked between the desks to put it on the teacher’s.

He must have had the worst luck in the world as, just then, she turned around. “Ah, Mr. Storm. I was wondering when you’d show up.” Her tone was kind, no note of malice anywhere.

Virgil nodded. “I forgot to set my alarm.” His voice was quiet, barely reaching past the professor.

She nodded with a smile that seemed genuine. “Go back to your seat, please. Just as discussed yesterday, you’ll be debating Mr. Croft in a few minutes.”

Virgil trudged back to his seat, slipping past the others to sit in his usual corner. Feeling eyes on him, he looked up to find Logan Croft, a double major in zoology and astronomy who was taking this class for fun, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Virgil ignored him, turning back to his notebook and doodling in the margins as he waited for the professor to finish taking attendance.

He got through half the page before he was being called up to debate, as per usual. He and Croft were only put against each other as examples or if the lecture finished early. This was mainly due to them both being stubborn in their ways and being able to debate things for hours. Thus, they were both called into her office the day before to confirm the topic and style of the debate.

There they stood, on opposite sides of the same plain. It was a familiar position for the pair during their debates. While many would have seen a peaceful place within that plain, maybe even a spot to build something, the two students only saw a battlefield with the fight yet to be fought, yet to be won. Their words danced across the plain, leaving wounds that didn’t mean a thing outside of that moment. A struggle for dominance raged before, as it always did, they came to be equals that saw eye to eye.

Their debate lasted for the first half of class before they came to some sort of agreement on their topic and sat down to listen to the teacher give a lecture on what just happened. After class, Croft caught up with Virgil on his way out. “That was a good debate today, Storm.” He said. The battlefield was back to a plain, nothing special about it.

Virgil looked at him briefly before just shrugging and walking up the stairs. He didn’t bother to look back or wonder why the student who usually avoided him unless it was during these debates was talking to him. He just knew he needed to get to class.

A day later, he was running to dance class and missed a step. Crashing down the stairs, he landed at the bottom in a haze of pain. He tried to move but found that his vision was blurry and his ankle was broken. Someone nearby gave a shout and he heard footsteps on the stairs. A hand landed on his shoulder and he flinched, coming face to face with the person who lived across the hall from him.

“Virgil, what happened?” Emile said, eyes looking concerned.

The dancer didn’t even lie to the psychology major he knew only in passing. “I fell.” He shook his head, trying to get his vision to focus on something, anything. “My ankle hurts.”

Emile nodded and moved to look at it. Gently pressing, he inspected the joint. Virgil hissed when he pressed on it and Emile sat back. “Yep, that’s broken.” Sighing, he moved to help Virgil to his feet, throwing the dancer’s arm over his shoulders. “I’ve got time before my next class so I’ll take you to the nurse before I go tell you’re dance teacher you won’t be able to make it today.”

Virgil shook his head, hobbling along beside him. ��No, I’ll tell her later.”

Emile frowned. “You know Professor Kim is not going to be happy about this development. She was counting on you being there through the whole semester.”

Virgil just laughed, shaking his head. “Since when do you talk with her?”

“Since I came to drop off your lunch that day and she was the only one there. We struck up a conversation about you.”

Virgil nodded. “Fair.”

Emile pushed the door open and sat Virgil in the nurse's office before leaving with a wave, tossing an, “I’ll be back in a bit,” over his shoulder. Virgil waited for the nurse to come and diagnose him, soon being rolled out on a gurney on his way to the hospital to get a cast on his broken ankle. He’d also been told that he had a concussion but that wasn’t the main concern.

A few days later, debate class was back in session and Virgil was there in a cast, crutches by his side. Croft came in and eyed the crutches before setting his bag by his usual chair. He didn’t sit down as Virgil thought he would, rather coming over to stand by Virgil’s seat. He nodded his chin at the cast. “What happened there?”

Virgil was taken aback by the care in his voice, a voice that had previously remained so neutral while talking to him that it was borderline monotone. He shrugged as he continued to grab his books out of his bag. “I fell.”

Croft raised his eyebrows, looking about as convinced as he would if Virgil had just told him the sky was magenta. “You fell? Why don’t I buy that, Storm?”

Virgil shook his head. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t believe the truth, Croft.”

He huffed, his eyes melting into the concern that was evident in his voice. Opening his mouth, he seemed to be about to say something but thought better of it, going to sit down instead just as the professor walked in. She paused by his desk. “Professor Kim told me about the ankle. You don’t have to debate for the rest of the semester if you don’t feel up to it.”

Virgil shook his head. “Standing won’t be a problem as long as I have the crutches.”

She nodded. “Still, I’d like to let you rest for a bit.”

Virgil shrugged. “I’m fully capable of standing and debating but I’ll follow your lead on this.” She gave a final nod and moved to stand at the front of the room to begin class.

Thus, six weeks went by. Virgil did essays on dance and movement instead of performing the dances. Professor Kim insisted on recording the lessons so he’l still be able to do them when he’s recovered, which he was immensely grateful for. Debate class went similarly in that he wasn’t called up as often to debate Croft anymore. Instead, he wrote most of his debates as argumentive papers.

That summer, Virgil stayed on campus. He wasn’t taking a summer course, he was simply trying to follow the videos Professor Kim left for him. He lived nearby anyways so it made sense to keep using the studio on campus. That’s how he ended up running into Croft again on the stairs. 

“Oh,” the other student said, bag in hand as he was clearly trying to put his books back in it, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

Virgil smiled, holding up the gym bag that had replaced his book bag. “The studio is allowing me to catch up on my dance lessons over the summer.” He paused. He and Croft had never been too cordial with each other, merely remaining civil. However, toward the end of the semester they'd come to some sort of academic truce. Now, they were just normal strangers, just two students. So, Virgil took a chance. “What about you? Why are you still here?”

Croft finally shoved the last book into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’m having to retake a class due  to low grades.” He shook his head. “I just can’t grasp the subject.”

“What is it?”

Croft sighed. “Psychology.”

Virgil nodded and, on a whim, gave an offer. “I passed Psych with flying colors if you want me to tutor you?”

That plain, that had once been a battlefield before lying dormant, became a meadow in that one moment. No longer a place for duels or violence, but peace and healing. Their once shaky truce seemed to settle, becoming something more permanent, as Croft smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They walked side by side as they discussed times and tactics for studying. They concluded that their only overlapping free time was directly after Virgil was finished with dance practice as that was when Croft got out of his classes and clubs but before Virgil had to go to Professor Kim’s office for office hours.

So, the very next day saw Virgil walking out of the shower room, towel he’d been drying his hair with still in hand, to see Croft leaning against the wall in the hall. “I wasn’t expecting you for another fifteen minutes or so.” Virgil said as he approached.

Croft looked up from the book in his hand. He briefly glanced at the page number before snapping it shut and picking up his bag. “Apologies, I like to be early.”

Virgil just waved his hand as they fell in step beside each other. “It’s fine. Next time, you don’t have to wait in the hall if I’m not in the shower, you can just sit in the room. As long as you’re quiet, you’ll be fine.”

Croft nodded. “Noted, thank you.”

They made it to the library and sat down, both pulling out books. When Croft gave Virgil a puzzled look, he laughed a bit. “I’ve brought my notes and blank copies of homework to use as practice problems. First, I want to gauge just how bad off you are.” he set down the cumulative final review. “Fill this out to the best of your ability.” Croft set to work, a serious expression on his face. Virgil didn’t want to twiddle his thumbs while waiting so he pulled out his phone and opened it to a new note, beginning to plan out his evening.

Once that was done, he looked up to see Croft with his tongue sticking out slightly, hair in his eyes, and eyes focused on the page. Strangely, there was something beautiful about the concentrated look on his face. Maybe it was the way the sunlight dramatized it and cast his eyes into shadows, making Virgil want to stare until he could see where the iris ended and the pupil began; maybe it was the way his hair framed his face in a way that made Virgil want to pull out a sketchbook.

Feeling self conscious at that thought, he looked back down at his phone and ignored the other student until he heard a pencil connect with the table. “Alright, Storm, I’m done.”

Virgil nodded and slid the page over to himself, quickly checking it against the answer sheet he’d made up. He gave Croft a grade, circled it, and slid it back. A sharp intake of breath came back as Virgil pulled a clean piece of paper closer to himself and began to write down what needed to be worked on.

“Is it really that bad?” Croft’s voice came from Virgil’s side.

He paused in his writing to look up at his former academic rival. He shrugged. “It could be worse. You don’t seem to be too bad off right now and we’re gonna try to get you to where you need to be as soon as possible.”

Croft nodded and away they went. The next few weeks were spent in a new routine. Croft would wait in the hall if Virgil was in the shower but most times Virgil had lost track of time and gone over, resulting in Croft sitting in the corner reviewing definitions. A few times, one of his clubs wouldn’t meet and he’d get out earlier than normal. Those were the times that Croft would sit in and make sure Virgil wasn’t putting too much strain on his ankle and was properly hydrating. Those were the times they’d strike up a bit of witty banter that reminded them of their debates but on a personal level that the debate class was lacking.

One step at a time, they came closer on that meadow until they were standing side by side, leaning on the other. As they grew closer, the meadow rose as if two tectonic plates were pushing it toward the sky. Over the course of that one season, the meadow had become a mountain of a friendship. Their banter began to spread outside of just those rare moments, becoming a constant part of their meetings, tutor sessions, and walks. 

It wasn’t long before the summer semester ended and they had a few weeks of vacation before the next semester. As the days shortened and the leaves turned colors, Virgil almost expected Croft to go on his way. After all, the agreement was done. Virgil had finished learning all the moves he’d needed and Croft had passed his classes with the usual flying colors. 

Still, tutor sessions turned into chats over coffee, dancing changed to walks in the park, but their late night talks on the way back to their apartment building stayed the same. Virgil enjoyed that constant, knowing that no matter what else happened that day, he could walk back to the apartment building with Croft. It was one such walk that it struck him. In all their time together, he’d gotten closer to Croft and no longer saw him as the academic rival they’d been at the start of the year. Instead, he saw him as a friend, or even more than that.

Just when Virgil was satisfied and comfortable with the balance they’d created together, fate tossed a spark gently onto the mountain. In that instance, the mountain turned into a volcano. In that one instant of time, Virgil had fallen for Logan Croft and he knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t have it any other way. He had no idea how he’d tell him, or even if he would tell him. After all, volcanoes can stay dormant for years before going extinct or erupting. Virgil could just wait and hope it was the former or deal with the latter.

The next few weeks were much the same as that with the exception that Virgil was noticing every little thing that Logan did. He noticed the way he leaned toward Virgil as they talked, the way his focus was entirely on the dancer during conversations. Logan was always walking on Virgil’s left side, the ankle he’d broken mid spring semester that acted up occasionally but especially on stairs. He noticed Logan holding doors for him or smiling at him for no particular reason.

All of this gave Virgil a spark of hope in his chest that had him wondering if Logan liked him back. That spark was almost crushed one afternoon. They had just gotten their coffee and started their usual round about the park when Logan spoke. “I might not be able to do the full rotation today, Storm. I’ve got a date with Roman later.”

Virgil felt like his chest had just been stomped on. “. . . A date?” He didn’t know how he kept his voice steady when his heart was breaking, getting closer and closer to shattering the more he thought about those two words.

Logan tilted his head to the sides. “Maybe ‘date’ is the wrong word for it. It’s more like a meet-up.”

Virgil nodded, pretending he hadn’t been holding his breath through that whole exchange. “Okay, when do you have to leave?”

“About half an hour.” He turned and smiled. “Plenty of time.”

Virgil smiled and walked ahead, turning to face Logan as he walked backwards. Logan shook his head. “That’s not the safest way to travel, you know.”

Virgil just shrugged. “There’s worse ways to travel.” He also got to see the rare grin that spread across the zoology major’s face, not that he would tell said student that.

Their walk in the park ended with them standing at the entrance. “I’ll see you later, Storm.” Logan said by way of parting.

“Wait! Later as in tomorrow or later as in-”

He laughed, something that was even more rare than his grin but something Virgil longed to hear more often. “Later today.” Virgil nodded, walking back to his apartment alone.

On a whim, he grabbed his gym bag, stuffing his dance shoes in it, and went to the studio. He scrolled through his playlist as he entered before just hitting shuffle and letting the music play as he got ready. He waited for the next song and took a second to identify it before throwing his hoodie off and moving to the center of the room. 

He went with the music, letting his body flow in whatever way it wanted. Incorporating all the moves he’d learned over the past few months into a cohesive whole that was both as graceful as saplings in the wind but as sharp as the flapping of cloth. He danced to forget his troubles and anxieties, letting them bleed into the movements. A faster song came on and he changed his movements to match, becoming sharper as he let himself get lost in the music, lost to the beat of his feet against the floor, the feeling of the air on his sweat, the feeling of dancing and being free and feeling on top of the world.

When the playlist ended and his muscles were screaming for him to rest, he collapsed onto the floor, panting for breath. When he felt like he could stand, he moved to check his phone clock and found that he’d spent the whole afternoon dancing. Quickly, he showered and made his way back to his apartment. He was still overheated after dancing for a few hours straight so he just had his hoodie slung over his arm, his gym bag over his other shoulder.

He got back to his apartment to see Logan with a fist raised to knock. Smiling, he moved around him and unlocked it. “Come on in.” He dropped his keys in the little bowl on the entrance way table. “I’ve just gotta put this stuff away but it won’t be long.”

Logan smiled, standing comfortably in the entryway. “Take your time, Storm, I’m not going anywhere.” 

For a brief moment, Virgil wondered what his first name would sound like in Logan’s voice. He didn’t dwell on it, instead he nodded, ducking into his bedroom to store his bag where it belonged. Taking a second to put on some extra deodorant and move his hair around so it looked semi-styled instead of the mess it was before, he took a deep breath. The scare of losing him that afternoon had made Virgil realize that he needed to act fast before he lost Logan for real.

So, he kept the hoodie across his arm as he went back out and picked up the keys again. “Ready to go?”

Logan nodded. “Quite.”

Virgil held the door open for him, locking it on his way out. They started down the path in relative silence, the only noise being the crunching of gravel beneath their feet and the sounds of life coming from nearby buildings. Virgil was hesitant to break the silence despite the feelings and words bubbling below his surface. Logan also seemed comfortable in the lack of conversation. They made it to a bench that was out of the way and sat on it to stargaze for a bit.

Virgil tilted his head back, resting it on the back of the bench. His eyes scanned the sky, resting on different stars and connecting them into constellations. After another while of silence, Logan shivered beside Virgil and the dancer turned his head, looking at the astronomy major. “Are you cold?” His voice broke the silence like a sheet of ice falling from a slope.

Logan shrugged. “A bit. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Virgil hummed and threw his hoodie over the other. “No use in you getting cold when this is right here.”

Logan didn’t react beyond tilting his head down just the slightest bit. He hummed, taking a breath before speaking. “Apologies again for having to end our afternoon walk early.”

Virgil waved his hand. “It’s fine. In fact, it actually gave me time to think.”

Logan looked over at him, eyes inquisitive behind his square black frames. “What about?”

Virgil took a deep steadying breath of the night air before he turned to face Logan just a bit more on the bench. “About you, actually. I realized something when you said you had a date with Roman.”

Logan nodded, his gaze sharpening as his attention seemed to hone in on Virgil. “Okay.”

Virgil fiddled with the rips in his jeans, suddenly anxious. “I realized that if I didn’t act now, someone else might be walking by your side in the park, laughing with a coffee in hand. Someone else might have the door you knock on late at night when you can’t sleep, be the person you debate with over the phone into the early hours of the morning.” He took another deep breath, not looking up at the wonderful human sitting in front of him, the one who deserved the world. “I realized that I love you and can’t stand the thought of another person getting to hold your hand and kiss you goodnight.” He turned his head so he was staring out into the night rather than at Logan. “There, I said it. I love you. I love you so much my chest aches.”

Logan hummed in a way that Virgil couldn’t interpret before there was the rustling of fabric and Logan was kneeling before Virgil, one hand hovering near the dancer’s cheek. “I’m glad you told me as it makes what I’m going to say much easier.” Virgil’s eyes widened slightly, fearing the next thing to come past Logan's lips.

“I love you too. Honestly, I think I’ve loved you since the start of the fall semester. The way you helped me study, putting things into ways I can understand and bending over backwards to do so. The care you take with everything you do, the grace in your every move, the fire and passion you put into your dancing, I love all of you.”

Virgil couldn’t believe what he was hearing but his nerves settled when Logan’s soft expression didn't change, didn’t turn to a sneer, he didn’t laugh or mock Virgil. Elated, he leaned forward but paused before he could connect their lips. Logan smiled at the quiet ask for consent and leaned in with him, closing the distance and bringing him into a kiss. His hovering hand settled on Virgil’s cheek as Virgil’s hand came up to cradle the back of Logan’s neck, neither wanting to let go.

When they pulled apart, they were both smiling. Logan pulled the hoodie tighter around his shoulders before standing, offering a hand to Virgil to stand as well. An idea came to him and Virgil put his hand in his pocket, pulling his phone out to play a few ballads. “Dance with me under the stars?”

Logan grinned, sliding his hands to be around Virgil’s neck. “I’d love nothing more.”

So, the two did just that, dancing the hour away under the midnight stars. In the arms of the one they loved, the same person who had been their greatest enemy at the start of the year, neither could ask for a better way to spend their time.

[heartau]

Unknown Number | C.HW

Genre: college!au - explicit smut/angst/fluff Word count: 16.8k Comments: this is a revision of an au that i wrote from when i was in a different fandom!! Warnings: graphic depictions of sex: fingering, oral (male and female), insertion, dirty talk, public sex, dom/sub themes.

In which two anonymous people sext each other, neither one aware that the other is their sworn enemy.

Commonly, at the ages of the early twenties, partying becomes an event that is scheduled almost every single week. Crammed bodies that emit heat, slick with sweat, sticking against each other on dance floors packed like sardines and in secret affairs tucked away in random quarters; the turbulent howling of frat boys who have found the beer keg and are attempting to sacrifice their weakest link to down it all in one gulp; almosts and maybes and hindered exchanges that stay sputtering in the stomachs of those who leave early filled with regret. A party is everything aggravating that stirs up irritation put into one area under the façade of something whimsical, and it is all worth it – until the morning after.

The dull, throbbing pain that bangs against your skull causes your eyelids to flutter open, the harsh sunlight that flows into your bedroom through the drawn curtains triggering the torment to grow worse as it fries your retinas, screwing your eyes shut as you let out a groan of agony, sore arms flying up to rest your hands against your forehead and to massage your temples.

“My head,” you hiss in pain, gulping the urge to curse loudly at yourself for deciding to drink so much the night before down your throat. A low chuckle emits from the side of your room which causes your body to jolt in surprise, turning your head and barely peeking out from underneath your eyelids at the origin of the sound, seeing your roommate leaning against the doorframe, trying to suppress his laughter. “Jesus, Kihyun. Knock next time.”

“You’ve been asleep for fifteen hours, I came to check if you were still alive.” Kihyun explains, walking towards you and holding out what you’ve made out to be a single pill of tylenol and a glass of water. “I told you to be careful with your drinks last night, you know.”

You slowly sit up, rolling your eyes as you leans against your headboard, graciously accepting the pill and water and downing it in one gulp. Your esophagus feels less dry and you relish in the fleeting moment of peace before another strike of pain emits in your skull and sends jolts of agony down your bones and nerves. You wince once more, closing your eyes.

“What happened last night?” you ask your roommate, attempting to recollect your memories of the night before in the darkness behind your eyelids but coming up blank.

“You got drunk,” Kihyun answers you, hands shoved into his pockets as if he were looking for something. “Then, after your 5th shot or whatever, you told me you were going to the bathroom. You were gone for, like, 50 minutes, so I tried phoning you to see where you were, but my phone was gone! Luckily, I found you on the floor next to the ladies bathroom,” he pauses and then lifts up his phone - his shattered phone - to your face. “Next to this.”

His eyes are sharp, pointed directly at you as you gulp and shrink down in confused guilt before an apologetic smile attempts to stretch on your face. “I’m sorry?”

“You should say that to the people you texted,” Kihyun shrugs, shoving his phone back into his pocket and crossing his arms. “You messaged every single person off of my contacts list. Your phone’s been going off for the past fifteen hours while you’ve been asleep.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit, indeed.”

You reach for your phone on your nightstand and press the circular button rousing the device awake, and sure enough, your lockscreen is decorated with rows and rows of text notifications, each one coming from a different combination of numbers. An array of Who is this?, Wrong number., and If this is some sort of prank, please stop. It’s not funny’s causes your face to redden, putting your phone down onto your lap and covering your face in embarrassment.

“Please don’t tell anyone it was me,” you look back up at Kihyun, unlocking your phone and tapping on your text app, already conjuring apologies to the strangers.

“Your secret is safe with me. Have fun!” he reassures you, before pivoting on his heel and walking out your room, closing the door behind him.

Gulping, your eyes skim the texts that you decided to send from the night before, harsh and erratic words meeting your eyes. You groan in despair as you read each reply, tones of anger and confusion aimed at you - you had a lot to work with, and thankfully, you had the entire rest of the day to contemplate remorseful apologies. But deep within your notifications lies a reply different from the rest, rich words that hold sentiment and persona, lined in several sentences. The reply was from an unknown number, of course it was, but you can’t deny the peculiarity of the message.

And thus, almost apologetically, you leave it unanswered for the time being.

 ----

  “No, dude, I swear on my life, I got the freakiest text message last night.”

Kihyun opens the dorm room to the sound of dispute, Jooheon’s voice being the loudest of all of them. Groans emit from around the corner and Kihyun could practically envision eyes rolling at the boys statement.

“I read the text,” Minhyuk says after a pause. “It wasn’t freaky at all.”

“Yes it was!” Jooheon argues, scrambling to grab his phone from underneath the mountain of review sheets and textbooks, hands practically shaking as he unlocks it, tapping his text app. He holds his phone to his friend’s faces, who lean in to inspect the text, before they all stare at him, deadpan.

“I told you so.” Minhyuk quips, shrugging his shoulders.

“Okay, so you tell me. If you got a text that just said 5 days. and nothing else - absolutely zilch - you wouldn’t be afraid?” Jooheon narrows his eyes at Minhyuk, but before Minhyuk could even begin to open his mouth to answer back in dripping sarcasm, Kihyun sits down on the floor and slams his books against the carpet, looking at them in curiosity.

“What’s going on?” asks Kihyun as he shuffles his papers around, looking for the review sheet he had been analyzing for the past few days.

“This random number texted us in the middle of the night,” Minhyuk answers Kihyun, before pointing towards Jooheon, who stares directly at his phone. “He’s afraid because the same number texted him 5 days.”

“A random number?” asks Kihyun, brain reeling as he realizes that it must have been (Y/N), but his face stays static at the apparent discovery. “Hm. That’s weird. What else did you guys get?”

“They copy and pasted an entire WikiHow article on how to bake banana bread for me.” Wonho pipes up from beside Jooheon. “It was kinda helpful. I think I might do it later.”

“I got a whole paragraph on how I’m obstructing their education by being loud in our shared class. Like, what does that even mean?” Minhyuk is obviously irritated at this message, furrowing his brows together. “I’m not even that loud. And what shared class?”

A sigh emits from Hyungwon, who has been silent for the past few minutes. He stares at his textbook, flipping through the pages as he talks. “I don’t know why you guys are over analyzing this. It’s just some person pranking us, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Kihyun almost freezes at the new insight, turning his head towards the lanky boy who he knows shares a venomous and strained relationship with (Y/N), internally yelling at the girl for acting so brash through her drunken actions.

“You got a text?” Kihyun asks him, voice surprisingly calm, however, behind the facade lies an expression almost synonymous to hellfire. Hyungwon’s mouth remains closed, eyes tearing away from the printed words of his textbook and towards his older friend. His expression is still, and his eyes are calm, but it is everything Kihyun needs to confirm that he is one of the receivers.

“Really?” Minhyuk questions. “What did it say?”

“What the text said isn’t important,” Hyungwon glances at Minhyuk quickly before looking back to his textbook. “Can we please just get on with studying? That’s what I came here for.”

“Hey man,” Jooheon pouts, practically sending Hyungwon a pleading expression. “You can’t just say you got a text and not tell us!”

“Yeah, he’s right!” Wonho points at Jooheon. “We’re your friends. You’re like… legally obligated to tell us.”

Hyungwon lets out a huff, biting the inside of his cheeks before looking back up at his circle of friends. “They sent me a long, long essay on why they hate me.”

Silence fills the air and Kihyun can sense tension following just behind as they all stare at Hyungwon. It’s only a fleeting moment before they all burst out into roaring laughter, tears threatening to fall from their brightened eyes as they double over on top of each other. Kihyun and Hyungwon watch the two in confusion before Kihyun decides to let out a couple of strained, awkward chuckles.

“Hey,” Kihyun clears his throat and pats Hyungwon on the back as the rest of the boys’ laughter dies down. “Like you said, it’s most likely just a prank, right?”

Hyungwon doesn’t even look at Kihyun in the eye, shrugging as he mumbles out a silent ‘yes.’ Minhyuk takes notice of this, pointing at Hyungwon in shock.

“Oh my god, he’s offended by the text,” Minhyuk says. “It must’ve been personal then, huh? They probably know you in real life. Oh my god, how funny would that be?”

Hyungwon rolls his eyes before looking back at his textbook, letting out a huff of air as he attempts to drown out the sounds of his friends.

Kihyun turns to Minhyuk, racking his brain for excuses. “There’s a low chance they know each other in real life,” Kihyun says. “I mean, that would be impossible.”

“Wait, but Minhyuk has a point,” Jooheon adds. “I mean, whoever this was, they texted all of us, right? They must know who we are. It just comes down to figuring out who it is.”

“Why are we still talking about this?” Hyungwon shuts his book, the plop of the hardcovers interrupting Minhyuk and Jooheon. “I came here to study, not analyze and dissect some girl’s cryptic text messages.”

Minhyuk raises an eyebrow. “Girl?”

Hyungwon freezes and Kihyun is almost about to crack, but luckily, Hyungwon opens his mouth before Kihyun could do anything. “She said something about how she hates the ‘girls can’t beat up boys’ stereotype because she claims that she could take me down easy.”

“Well,” Minhyuk says. “She’s got a point.”

“Shut up, Minhyuk.” Hyungwon glares at him, patience already begin to waver thin.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Minhyuk throws his hands up in defense. “But hey. This is strong evidence. Whoever this masked texter is, they know us and they’re a girl. We’re a few steps closer to figuring out who the culprit is.”

Kihyun scratches the back of his neck as he remains silent, searching for a coherent sentence in his brain. “Well. Let’s stu-”

“Hey, Minhyuk,” Wonho looks up towards his friend from his position on the ground, laying on his stomach. “You said that you guys shared a class right? They could be in any one of your classes.”

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Minhyuk agrees. “I’ll question ever-”

Hyungwon interrupts him by noisily grabbing his papers and books, standing up and earning confused looks from his friends. He pivots on his heel and walks towards the door, turning the doorknob and opening it just a crack before looking over his shoulder. “I’m glad all of you have unanimously agreed to fail our finals. Since we aren’t studying, I’ll be taking my leave.”

The door slams shut, leaving the four boys in his wake.

“Geez.” Minhyuk scoffs, before continuing with his sentence prior to Hyungwon leaving.

As Hyungwon walks out the apartment lobby, the crisp cool autumn breeze dancing across the skin of his cheeks after he opens the door, his teeth clench in annoyance as the memories of the text messages he had received flash in his mind. He closes his eyes momentarily, before opening them again, hiking back to his own apartment complex, attempting to push the situation out of his mind.

Yet, no matter how much he seeks to overlook his feelings of irritation, he can still detect the weight of his phone in the pocket of his sweater, where the messages filled of anger and tirancy of an unknown woman linger on the screen the same way they linger in his memory.

He will delete them. After one more message.

 ----

 Your phone emits a loud tone, causing your eyes to widen as heads in the library turn to look towards you. You quickly grab it to silence it, sending everyone apologetic smiles and glances before looking down at your screen at the text notification, raising your eyebrow once you realized whom it had originated from. That morning, while you had been apologizing to a series of confusion and states of anger, you had come across one reply a lot different than the rest; a paragraph filled with words of true irritation, personal anger, and you, in your hungover galore, decided to leave it be, finding entertainment in their message.

From - Unknown Number: so u texted my friends too. who are u?

You furrowed your eyebrows together as you scroll up to find your original text to try and figure out who this person could be - obviously, you must have some sort of connection with them or a similarity for his emotional outburst prior his recent message - but as you scroll up you are only given a dead end when you realized you must have deleted your first text while you was still drunk.

You sent: first of all thx for texting me while im in the library im p sure the librarian is on my ass now. second, i was drunk so it was probably nonsense. third of all thats for me to know and for u to never find out.

You put your phone down and pick up your pencil, finding the paragraph you were last reading, but before your pencil could even reach the lined paper of your notebook, your phone buzzes again. You look at the screen, seeing that the unknown man has replied to your message.

From - Unknown Number: whatever. just dont text me anymore. if u got smth personal to say then say it to my face and stop hiding behind a screen like a coward.

You sigh, setting your pencil down and picking your phone up.

You sent: mister u were the one who texted me today first. also arent u basically doing the same thing? if u’ve got something to say then come say it to my face.

From - Unknown Number: i dont even know who u are. just apologize.

You sent: no. goodbye.

From - Unknown Number: whatever. just lay off. i already got enough things to stress about.

You sent: i said goodbye.

You stare at your phone for what seems like an eternity, waiting for him to reply, but he doesn’t. You close your eyes almost thankfully, sighing before you delete the entire text conversation and shove your phone into your bag and dismiss everything before you continue to study. You had believed, foolishly, that this man never contacts you again.

You were wrong.

From - Unknown Number: hey should i buy pizza

You hold a spatula in your other hand, the sound of eggs frying filling the kitchen. It’s only the next morning and this unknown man had apparently not forgotten about your number and decided to ignore your farewell. You sigh, the inkling of regret that you had after discovering that you had texted multitudes of strangers becoming even bigger.

You sent: didn’t i say goodbye to u already

From - Unknown Number: yeah but like … im hungry

You roll your eyes as you flip an egg over in the steaming pan.

You sent: then text ur friends

From - Unknown Number: u see…. i got into a fight with them

You sent: wow. im so surprised.

From - Unknown Number: so should i buy pizza or not hurry up i got class in like 30 mins n if im late my teachers gonna bite my ass

You sent: dont buy pizza its still morning … buy a bagel or smth

From - Unknown Number: good idea. k thx.. good bye

You sigh before you dismiss him again, putting your phone face down on the counter as you slide your eggs off the pan onto a plate before stepping into the dining room to eat with Kihyun. You hadn’t seen him since he had left to go to Wonho’s apartment, a burly, intimidating looking man whom he had befriended in his psychology class. He looked down at his plate, taking few, sparse bites out of his bacon before he jumps at the sound of your chair scraping against the hardwood floors, sitting down across from him.

“You seem a bit jumpy today,” you quirk an eyebrow at your best friend. “Is something wrong?”

“No!” he says, far too quickly. “Not at all!”

“Kihyun,” you question after a beat, furrowing your eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

Kihyun gulps, staring at his plate of bacon and rice before letting out a short sigh, setting his spoon and fork down and putting his hands in his lap.

“Remember when you texted a bunch off people off my contacts list?” his voice is low.

“Yeah? It just happened yesterday.”

“Well, um,” he sputters. “You texted Wonho, Jooheon, Minhyuk, and-” his voice lowers even more, becoming hushed as if he’s afraid to see your reacton. “Hyungwon.”

You automatically stand up, wide-eyed, jaw slack as you watch your friend’s face turn from fear to worry, waving at you as if to tell you to keep your temper in check and pulling you back to sit down.

It isn’t that you are afraid of Hyungwon, because it’s the direct opposite. The simple sound of his name causes a specific type of vexation to rise up in your bloodstream, and the two of you being in the same area brings concern to other people. It’s known all over campus that the two of you share hostile feelings towards each other, ever since you had caught him so blatantly cheating off your first pop quiz during the beginning of the semester - you weren’t the only person to catch him too, as your teacher called the two of you up to the front, believing you were allowing him copy off of you, and much to your demise, gave the two of you the automatic grades of zero. He never even apologized to you, the blatant difference in your statistics class’ grade so drastic from your other classes thanks to him.

“And what did I send him?” you ask Kihyun.

“He said that you sent him a long paragraph on why you hated him.”

You find yourself letting out dark chuckles, hands wrapping around your spoon and fork as you begin to work on your plate of eggs.

“Maybe drunk me had a point.” you say to a stunned Kihyun.

Soon, you find yourself forgetting about those text messages you shared that morning with the unknown man as well as your conversation with Kihyun, instead directing your focus on a word problem as you sit in your statistics class. The environment is quiet, much to your bliss, as you find that a perfect work setting to analyze problems in. But as they say, the universe only brings you the opposite of what you want, and on the other side of the closed door, someone knocks fervently and loudly, earning gasps of shock from other students are you.

“Mr. Chae,” your professor sighs. “You’re late. Again.”

You look up to see Hyungwon marching into class, a coffee in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. He meets eyes with you and you find yours rolling at the direct contact before looking back down to focus on your word problem. Minutes pass by and you’re on your next question, a much more difficult one, and you find yourself stumped as you rack your brain for an answer.

You hear a loud crackling a few desks away, but you ignore it.

You hear it again, this time a bit longer, but before you could turn around to see who it was, it stopped.

Just as your brain figured out a way to solve the question, the crackling continues once more, even louder and even longer. You turn around to find the culprit the sound originates from, and you find Hyungwon, just a few seats behind you, halfway into sinking his teeth into a bagel, the crinkly bag of paper he used to carry it to class now disposed of in a tiny ball on top of his textbook. He notices you turn around to look at him, sending you sharp eyes lined with venom before continuing to bite down into his bagel and chewing rather loudly. You turn back around, attempting to ignore the camel-like sounds from behind you letting out a huff of annoyance, every trace of the answer that was in your mind long gone. How he hasn’t been kicked out of this class yet is beyond you.

You sent: i need an idea for an essay

It’s currently 9:45 in the evening, and you sit at your desk chair with your laptop open on Google docs, and it seems as if you’ve been static since the clock hit nine. Kihyun was out volunteering at an overnight camp for troubled teenagers (“I have to go or else I’ll fail psychology,” he had said before leaving with a small gym bag packed with his clothes. “I don’t even know why I have to take psychology. I’m in the culinary field for christ’s sake!”), thus you were alone in your small two bedroom apartment, the only thing accompanying you is the ticking of the clock in the kitchen and the gentle thrum of the heater.

From - Unknown Number: i thought we weren’t gonna text each other anymore

His reply came rather quickly, you were a bit surprised - but nonetheless, you were desperate. You cursed yourself for leaving your criminology assignment until last minute - it’s due the next day, 8:00 AM sharp.

You sent: i know but its due in like 11 hours and i dont have a prompt so i dont have any idea how to start this and if i dont get it in then im done for

From - Unknown Number: what course??

You sent: criminology

From - Unknown Number: hmm……. prompt?

You sent: theres no prompt my professor said to just write anything. like literally anything that has to do with crim and im having the biggest brainfart

From - Unknown Number: how about police misconduct? or u could write abt the rights of defendants. or like… the concepts of conduct and causation.

You sent: omg………………….ur a life saver

From - Unknown Number: i know

You end up finishing your essay in only four hours, submitting it to your professor and closing your laptop and climbing into bed, stretching out your limbs and letting out a large yawn. You stare at your ceiling for what seems like hours before you sit up, grabbing your phone and unlocking it, your conversation with the unknown man appearing on your screen. You deliberate whether or not you should or shouldn’t, the blinking line next to the body of words almost mocking you, and you think, why the hell not?, before you hit send.

You sent: i just finished. thank you again. good night.

His reply came only seconds later.

From - Unknown Number: of course. sleep well.

You smile at the text for only a second before you quickly wipe it off your face, remembering that this man is a stranger, and no matter how nice he was being to you, he was still unknown. You let out a sigh as you delete the conversation, clicking your phone off and plugging it in to charge it, setting it face down on your bedside table. You stare at the ceiling, sleepiness beginning to coat your eyes, your last thoughts before drifting off are to never text him again.

You find it hard though, because the next morning, he texted you a hearty good morning!, and before you could even stop yourself, you texted him a good morning back. You find yourself replying to every text message he sends you, and even though you remind yourself to never text him again, that this message will be the last one, you still come up with a reply, hitting send before you could stop your thumbs from hitting the cold screen.

By and by, the heated debates that the two of you had started from had evolved into friendlier conversations filled with more personal details. You ask him heaps of questions; whether you should use the last of your paycheck to buy a book or to get more clothes, thus beginning a long conversation on the quality of clothing and store brands. He tells you to treat yourself to a high-end brand, which you found yourself scoffing at - but you find yourself walking to school just a few days later with a new knit cardigan, the designer label almost shining off the collar.

He asks you what your favourite television show is, leading to hours and hours of lists of recommendations and reviews of series and movies both on and off Netflix, conversing over plots, genres and pairings. He tells you that he loves comedy sitcoms, and reality shows, and you tell him your favourite genre, much to his akin. You tell him your favourite genre of music, and he tells you that his is EDM and R&B. He tells you his favourite shade is black, and you tell him the colour that you are most fond of. You learn that he has a deathly fear of spiders, and he learns of what lurks in your brain when your bedroom is dark and silent. He learns that you’ve never gone travelling, and you learn that he’s been to almost all of the continents of the Earth. You tell him your favourite time of day, and he tells you his; nine in the evening, when the sun has gone to rest and the stars decorate the sky in glimmering valour.

You joke, you bond, you laugh for what seemed like only days, to the point where the two of you hadn’t realized how long it had been since you both actually started talking. He’s the first one to text you in the morning, and the last to text you at night. He’s the first you text when you’ve got a problem, and the first to text when you’ve got nothing else to do. And even though he’s never asked for your name, he knows you; what you like, what you don’t like, what you aspire to be, and what you fear.

“Ms. (Y/L/N),” your professor speaks loudly, earning glances towards your way as you tear your eyes from your phone screen and back towards the front of the class. Your professor stands with her hands on her hips. “If you have something better to do, then I advise you to leave my class.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, setting your phone down. “It won’t happen again.”

You hear a snicker not too far away from you, and you already know who it’s originated from, your face already beginning to heat up rage as you push down the urge to turn around, hop over the desks and deck Hyungwon in the face.

“Please answer word problem number four for the class, miss (Y/L/N).” your teacher tells you, looking at you expectantly over the top of her glasses. You gulp, looking down at your workbook as you read the said question, cursing to yourself in your head for not knowing what it means and for not focusing in class. Minutes of awkward silence passes by quickly, but to you it feels like eons before you hear Hyungwon’s arrogant voice cut through the air.

“I can answer it for her, professor!” he says, gleefully. You can almost see his haughty smile lingering in his words. “Of the given data set, the median is 75, the first quartile is 69, the third quartile is 81, and the interquartile range is 81, which you subtract 69 from, which gives us 12.”  

“Very good, Mr. Chae,” your professor nods and you ball your hands into fists. “Perhaps you should not only teach Miss (Y/L/N) the foundation of statistics, but also to focus during class.”

And with that, she turns back around on her heel and flips a page, continuing with her lecture. You turn around to find where Hyungwon is sitting a few seats back, a smug smirk on his face before he looks back at his notebook, jotting down notes. You tell yourself to calm down, to not let this situation take over your temper - and you do such as, but your fists stay clenched.

From - Unknown Number: so how was ur day?

You read the message as you unlock your front door, using your foot to kick it open.

You sent: terrible. how was urs?

You hang your keys on the keyholder beside the door and kick off your shoes, walking into the living room and finding it empty - Kihyun must still be working at the cafeteria. You set your bag down on the floor and look through the fridge, letting out a soft sigh of relief after finding a wrapped plate of food your best friend had left you before leaving. You put it into the microwave and punch out the numbers before leaning on your counter as you wait, pulling out your phone and seeing that the unknown man has replied.

From - Unknown Number: oh im so sorry�� ah my day was fine! i finally got to prove myself to this girl i detest… i felt super cool

You furrow your brow as you read it, the first thing you think of was of what happened during statistics with Hyungwon. Your stomach drops for a second - what if you were texting Hyungwon? The beeping of the microwave snaps you out of your thoughts, and you shake your head as you click the microwave open, grabbing your plate. That would be impossible - this man is far too coherent, smart, funny and kind to be Hyungwon.

No, it can’t be Hyungwon at all. That would be absolutely impossible.

It was as if he had heard your thoughts though, because your phone buzzed again.

From - Unknown Number: by the way… am i ever going to know your name?

You read the message over a few times, dread setting in your stomach. You had already shared far too much information about yourself to this unknown man, he knows more about you than Kihyun does - you had been using him as a way to vent. You felt terrible thinking about it, but you were far too afraid to take things to the next level, even if it just meant knowing each other’s names; you loathed feeling vulnerable, and it feels much better to do it anonymously.

You sent: hm… i kinda like it better this way. us being anonymous.

From - Unknown Number: good. because i do too.

You smile as you read his answer, grabbing your fork and stabbing the pieces of lasagna off your plate and scooping them into your mouth. You were glad he felt the same way - perhaps he felt the same way because he thought the same way as you did.

You sent: oh yeah btw what was the first thing i sent u? i deleted everything while i was drunk so now i cant read any of the msgs i sent u that first night

From - Unknown Number: like. the very FIRST thing or… the very first few things

You sent: the very FIRST thing.

From - Unknown Number: you sent me “what are you wearing?” were u trying to like.. find me somewhere or smth?

Your scan the message that you had apparently sent before widening your eyes at the sudden realization, your face heating up in humiliation. Quickly, you type a reply.

You sent: oh my god……. i think i was trying to sext u

There was a brief pause before you saw the three dots pop up again.

From - Unknown Number: oh

You inwardly cringe.

You sent: PLEASE IM SO SORRY I WAS DRUNK it wont happen again i promise pls dont be mad at me

From - Unknown Number: omg no!!! im not mad at u.. im just …. beating myself up for being stupid

You sent: you’re not stupid at all omg ! i can see where u thought it sounded like i was looking for u…

From - Unknown Number: BUT THATS NOT A NICE WAY TO PRANK SOMEONE YOU KNOW

You sent: who said it was a prank?

You weren’t thinking when you sent it, but the millisecond after you hit send a wave of panic courses through you. This was it, this is the end of your new-found friendship with this anonymous man; he was going to track your number down and then figure out who you are and show the entirety of the internet about your texts and then humiliate you. You sit there, thinking of the worst, but your vibrating phone brings you back to clarity.

From - Unknown Number: what do u mean?

You blink at his response. But then again, you hadn’t been pleasured in that field for a very long time, and this man is anonymous - he won’t have anything to use against you. You think of having your own fun while he texts you, and plus, if anything goes wrong, you could always just block his number. Plus, sex is a safe-ground; no feelings, no emotions, no ties - just strict, pure physical lust.

Right?

Fuck it.

You sent: what are you wearing?

 ----

 He is half certain that this is a joke, and, the other half is him hoping it isn’t. He wonders just how he got this unknown woman, whom three weeks ago he was just arguing against, to break through his skin defences to make him feel this way. He thinks about lying, telling the woman that he isn’t interested, that he wants emotional ties - but the last time he’s been with someone more than a year ago, and he’s already growing tired of handling things by himself, plus, his roommate, Changkyun, is out babysitting, leaving the house all to himself for the night.

Hyungwon gulps.

Fuck it.

Hyungwon sent: my pajamas

Hyungwon cringes to himself. He’s not the best at sexting, he doesn’t have much experience in it. There is a beat that hangs in the air for a second before three dots appear indicating that the woman has thought of a response.

From - Angry Girl: ………………. is that all?

Hyungwon sent: well…. yeah? u asked me what im wearing n i told u what im wearing… what do u want me to say

From - Angry Girl: dude have u never sexted before????

Hyungwon sent: i mean ….. its straightforward right ??? like …… i mean how else do u describe what ur doin .

From - Angry Girl: no !!!!! jesus … i should have expected this considering u thought i was looking for u when i asked u what u were wearing . the entire point of sexting is to get the other person aroused ….. how do u expect me to get aroused when u just sent me the most unarousing sext in history?????

Hyungwon scoffs at his phone, a bit insulted, fingers moving fast to type a reply, but before he could finish his phone buzzes with another message.

From - Angry Girl: get me to imagine what u look like w like …. extremities here n there. if i told u i was sitting here in shirt stained with lasagna would tht turn u on?

Hyungwon sent: well……………….no

From - Angry Girl: but if i told u i’m wearing a matching set of lacy black lingerie underneath my shirt with panties slowly getting soaked at the thought of you?

Hyungwon sent: oh

Hyungwon is far too busy staring at his phone, jaw slacked and eyes widened, for a few long seconds, that he forgets to sext her back. His phone buzzes, jolting him back into reality.

From - Angry Girl: hey.. we dont have to do this if u dont want to. i dont wanna make u uncomfy.

Hyungwon rushes to type in a reply.

Hyungwon sent: nooonooo!!

Hyungwon sent: no noo… !!!!

Hyungwon sent: its . just … like

Hyungwon sent: r u actually wet?

Her reply comes instantaneously.

From - Angry Girl: yes

Hyungwon sucks in a breath as he reads the text over and over again. He thinks of the fact that somewhere out there is a woman, who he has never met, and how she’s wet for him. The first thing Hyungwon does is screw his eyes closed in attempt to recollect his thoughts, which turns out to be horrible pain, because the moment his eyes shut, he thinks of her - see-through top clinging against her curves, her thighs squeezing together, her eyes filled with lust and her plump lips slightly parted - he thinks of (Y/N).

He quickly opens his eyes, cursing at himself for even conjuring up an image like that in his head, but the soft strain in his crotch area begs him to differ.

From - Angry Girl: so... what r u wearing

Hyungwon sent: white tee, black sweats and black boxers

From - Angry Girl: hmmm...

Hyungwon sent: are u touching urself?

From - Angry Girl: damn u learn fast

Hyungwon sent: are u touching urself?, he repeats, upper teeth pressed into his bottom lip harshly as the strain in his sweats begins to tighten.

From - Angry Girl: i have been ever since u told me u were in ur pajamas

Hyungwon grins, shifting positions on his bed.

Hyungwon sent: i thought tht was unarousing???

From - Angry Girl: it was. i just havent gotten fucked in a year

He licks his bottom lip as he types out a reply, his other hand fumbling with the waistband if his boxers before pulling them down. He double checks if his bedroom door is locked before he rests his back against the headboard, hands finding their way towards his cock.

Hyungwon sent: good. save urself for me then.

He begins to pump his hand up and down his shaft, slowly at first, as he waits for her to reply.

From - Angry Girl: jesus 

From - Angry Girl: ur touching urself rn arent u? thinking abt how wet i am for yuo hmm??? do u wnat me as mcuh as i want you?

The typos in her sentence only brings more excitement to Hyungwon, picking up the speed of his hand wrapped around his length, biting down on his lip as he thinks of her, with her hands buried into her panties, back arched off of her bed, her other hand finding it just as important to write a reply.

Hyungwon sent: yes ido. i want you so bad

From - Angry Girl: are u gna cum soon? i want ur cum sobad. i want allof it inside me, i want u fillme up until its drippign out of me

That was enough to send Hyungwon over the edge, the straining knot that formed in his stomach untying itself as he releases, his groans reverberating against the walls of his room as his hips jerk against his hand. He closes his eyes, leaning his head against his headboard, reeling from his orgasm before he reaches over to his nightstand and cleans up the mess. Hurriedly, he types his reply, wanting to make things amazing for her as she did for him.

And as he does so, he thinks of her.

Hyungwon sent: god i wanna kiss ur neck and ur jaw and litter it with marks to show everyone that ur mine. i wanna move ur hands away from u and replace ur fingers w mine and have u ride them, hitting the right spot as i kiss u all over ur body and tell u how good u are to me. i want my name to be the only thing coming out of ur mouth. i want u to cum.

He sets his phone down, biting into his cheeks as anxiousness begins to roll over him. He isn’t sure if that sentence was good enough - this is his first time sexting. In addition, he hadn’t realized until now that he had been imagining (Y/N) doing all of this, and what shocked him the most was that he liked what he imagined. Like it a little too much, in fact.

His phone buzzes against his thigh.

From - Angry Girl: holy fuck

From - Angry Girl: shit i literally think i saw god when i came

He chuckles lightly, typing his reply.

Hyungwon sent: im glad to be of service to u!

He sits in silence for a few seconds, unsure of what to say, but then begins to type another message.

Hyungwon sent: what does this make us?

He wasn’t up for a relationship with a person he’s never met, even if they know almost everything about each other. He doesn’t even know what she looks like, or her name - but he does know that he wants emotion. He craves for it, no matter what form it’s given in, and this is the closet he has gotten to any type of emotion in almost a year.

From - Angry Girl: hmmm friends w benefits? but thru text... ?

Hyungwon sent: i like the sound of tht. you wanna do this again sometime?

From - Angry Girl: yes please

Hyungwon sent: good.. me too.

Just as he sends it, Hyungwon hears the front door begin to jiggle, announcing that Changkyun is just now arriving home. Hurriedly, he unlocks his door in case he were to come in and turns off his night lamp, jumping into bed just as he hears the door open and the sound of Changkyun kicking off his shoes. God knows how fast the younger boy would put together what Hyungwon had been doing prior.

Hyungwon: good night. try not to dream of me

Hyungwon sets his phone on the nightstand and quickly pretends to be asleep just as he hears Changkyun’s footsteps bounding towards his door, turning the doorknob and peeking in to check if he was still awake. When the door closes and when Hyungwon is sure that his roommate has fled to the kitchen, he turns over in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Before sleep takes hold of him, he thinks one last thing.

How the fuck is he going to face (Y/N) now?

 ----

 You did dream of him.

Chae Hyungwon, to be exact.

Since putting your phone down the night before, to waking up from a sinful dream and showering and cooking your breakfast, you have been red in the face. You hadn’t realized you were fantasizing about him until the unknown man’s last text was sent, when you arched your back from your bed as you came undone between your legs and whined out Hyungwon’s name. You had avoided eye contact with Kihyun, aware that he knows you far too well and fearing for him to realize what you have done.

“Your class doesn’t start for another h-“ Kihyun’s voice rings from the living room but is interrupted with the click of your front door.

The air is cool, the chilled breeze kisses your cheeks as you walk to campus, hands shoved inside your pockets, playing with the edge of your phone case that was situated inside of them. Last night’s events were amazing - it was the best orgasm you’ve ever had in a long time - yet the fact that he had been in your mind the entire time made your stomach twist in an emotion you can’t quite pinpoint.

You make it to your class, only to be met with a closed door. Of course, it wasn’t starting for another half hour. You let out a tired sigh, taking your backpack off and sitting down in the hallway, back against the wall as you fish your phone from your pocket.

You text him first today.

You sent: good morning

His reply comes quickly.

From - Unknown Number: good morning!! ur up early

You sent: i guess i still have adrenaline from what happened last night hehe

You sent: so what are u up to?

From - Unknown Number: im in the line at starbucks on my uni campus rn ... i might get a red velvet cookie. the class im heading to is like the perfect environment to eat

You sent: i didnt know environments counted in a good eating experience

From - Unknown Number: of course it does!!!! a good environment makes ur food even more savoury.

From - Unknown Number: i have acquired the cookie. im on my way to class now ... absolute dread

You sent: man .... u and me both

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds and you figure it’s because he’s walking or he bumped into a friend or something, so you use this time to get some extra sleep, laying your head against the wall and closing your eyes. Just as you are about to drift off, you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat down the hall, and you open your eyes, hoping it was your professor.

Oh god.

Hyungwon walks towards you in his usual gait, full of arrogance, holding a cup of iced coffee in one hand and a paper bag in the other. This time though, when you look at him, you don’t feel the same irritation that you have always felt - and suddenly your eyes catch sight of his fingers, and your mind flashes to the images that your brain had thought of just the night before. Your face turns red, looking away from him and closing your eyes. You hope to god he doesn’t notice your red face, which he doesn’t, because he barely spares a glance at you.

“Are you kidding me,” he curses upon arriving to the door. “The day I come in early, the door isn’t even open yet.”

Grumbling, he sits down against the wall a few meters away from you, putting his iced coffee and paper bag on the ground beside him as he fishes for his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

You feel your phone buzz.

From - Unknown Number: quick i might have enough time bc the professor isnt here yet...... should i go back to starbucks and buy a muffin

You let out a laugh, earning a glance from Hyungwon to which your face turns flat again, rolling your eyes at him.

You sent: no!!! what if ur running to starbucks n u pass by ur professor?

From - Unknown Number: you’re right you’re right.....ill jus get it later then

You sit like that for what seems like a good half-hour, texting this unknown man back and forth and learning even more about each other. You learn that he loves baked goods, and that recently, ever since you had told him to buy himself a bagel, his love for them had come back. He learns that you cook your own breakfast everyday, taking the time to eat and rest in the morning before the rest of the day ensues.

“Hyungwon!” a loud voice sounds from the end of the hallway. You turn your head, as does Hyungwon, and you find the man the voice originated from, dashing down the hallway.

Lee Minhyuk was in your criminology class, you knew him well because he in front of you, but not well enough to contact him at any time, or to say hi to him outside of class. He was a nice guy, he was friends with almost everybody in your university no matter what year they were in, but he was loud and distracted you from your work - you aren’t sure if you’re thankful for that or if you detest that fact.

“Minhyuk.” Hyungwon’s voice is calm, rivalling Minhyuk’s shout.

Minhyuk comes to a stop in front of Hyungwon, doubled over and his hands on his knees as be gasps for breath - you are unsure as to why, the length of hall he had just ran doesn’t even stretch on for that long.

“Where have you been?” Minhyuk asks between gasps. “I haven’t seen you since our last study session.”

“Oh you know,” Hyungwon replies, “Just studying.”

“Well come back, our study group needs y-“ his voice cuts off the moment his head turns and meets eyes with you, eyes widening and mouth forming a large grin. “Hi (Y/N)!”

You give him a smile back, letting out a gentle laugh. “Hello, Minhyuk.”

He decides to ditch Hyungwon, walking over to you instead as his taller friend watches on in a mix of confusion and shock, and finally, for the first time since you’ve seen him today, his eyes catches yours. You suck in a quick breath before looking back at Minhyuk.

“How’d you do on your paper?” Minhyuk asks, standing in front of you, hands shoved into his pockets. “I feel like I barely made the passing mark.”

“Oh! It was good, I finished it really fast the night before it was due,” you let out a chuckle. “I wrote it on police misconduct.”

“Oh gosh,” Minhyuk says. “You’re gonna get a good grade, lord knows how many times our professor rants about that topic.”

“One can only hope.” you joke, face falling and hand touching your heart before you break out into a smile. You could almost feel Hyungwon’s eyes burning holes into your body.

“Oh, hey, by the way,” Minhyuk pipes up after both of your laughter died down. “I have a question that I’ve been meaning to ask for a few weeks.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Around three weeks ago, did you happen to get a strange te-“

“Mr. Chae, and Miss (Y/L/N)! You’re here early!”

The three of you turn your heads and find your professor striding down the hallway, fishing out the keys to the locked door in her purse. You turn to Minhyuk with a quirked eyebrow as to ask him to continue his sentence, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s alright, I’ll just ask you the next time I see you, alright?” Minhyuk shoots two thumbs-up at you, before pivoting on his heel and patting Hyungwon on the shoulder, narrowing his eyes at him teasingly. “And you. Stop ignoring us.”

Hyungwon nods, a small smile on his face before the two of you turn and walk inside your class. The only people present were the of you as well as the professor, who had also decided to go get something from the staff room, leaving you and Hyungwon alone, once again, in her wake. You almost curse to yourself outloud when flashes of the night before comes forward in your mind, biting down on your lip as you try to focus on doodling on the margins of your notebook. A crinkling sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Hyungwon, teeth half sunk into a red velvet cookie, realizing that you were looking at him. There is a pause in the air, silence filling the air between the two of you for a few milliseconds. The two of you simply stare at each other,  something very out of the ordinary, before he glares at you.

You roll your eyes.

Maybe your thoughts last night were just a one time thing.

But they weren’t.

As the nights go by, and as text conversations come and go, you find yourself thinking about Hyungwon more and more, an activity that you would usually always push out of your mind every time he comes close to nearing your thoughts, but your attempts are futile. It’s even more easier for you to think of the tall boy because this unknown man was faceless, and every single text lined with lust only pushes you to moan out Hyungwon’s name.

There was this one time you managed to get the unknown man to describe the item of clothing he’d use to tie you to the bed, which was an expensive silk black button up with white pinstripes, and you went crazy at the thought. Then, just a few days later, when conversing with your desk mate during class, Hyungwon walked in with the exact replica of the shirt, and then suddenly it was more than hot; it was unbearably arousing, and you had to act like everything was fine, tearing your eyes away from Hyungwon and squeezing your legs together.

And then the unknown man decides that sending you paragraphs upon paragraphs about what he wants to do to you during class is a good idea. And now you’ll never be able look at Hyungwon wearing neckties or belts the same anymore. And now you can’t even say Hyungwon’s name in annoyance, nor look at him at all, not when he’s wearing that heavenly smelling cologne that he always sprays on himself every single day, making it even harder for you to not just shove all of the papers and books off of his desk and start riding him right there.

Then there’s the fact that Kihyun has begun to realize how much time you spend on your phone, asking you about who you’re texting all the time, asking if it’s someone he knows, to which you always reply with a quick no. It worked at first, but the more you say it, the more curiosity glints in Kihyun’s eyes, gleaming of mischievousness and knowledge that he actually does know what you’re up to on your phone. He’d continue to pester you to get more information out, but you’d just roll your eyes and push him away.

It’s nothing serious.

It’s not.

It is a half a year later and you had just come home from a third date with one of Kihyun’s friends from work - Shownu, his name was. He was a kind man; soft-spoken, intelligent, awkwardly endearing, and a gentleman. He took you out to an expensive restaurant, one with the most incredible view of all the city, and handed you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. The dinner went smoothly, splendidly, even, and after a few exchanged jokes and laughs, he drove you home. He offered to walk you up to the front doors of your apartment building, which you accepted, and before you could push open your door, he leans in for a kiss, and as did you.

But you felt nothing.

No spark, no ignition of excitement, no eruption of butterflies, and no urge for you to ask him to come inside with you. Zero. Zilch. Nada. You had pulled back, giving him an awkward, but soft smile, but he had seemed to understand the underlying message, and he just smiles at you back, telling you that it’s alright and that he wishes you a good night before walking back to his car. You watched him drive away before pushing into the lobby, hitting the up button on the elevator, your spirits low as you wait for the doors to open.

As they did, you stumble into the elevator, cursing at yourself for thinking so stupidly. You had just rejected a handsome, kind gentleman, who was obviously interested in you, who probably wanted to fuck with strings attached, and who would have given you the entire world if you had just asked for it. Yet here you are, leaning against the wall of the elevator, watching the floor numbers go past one by one, not one ounce of regret. You wonder what the fuck is wrong with yourself, since it’s nearly been two whole years since you’ve gotten laid. Of course, only if you aren’t counting texting Hyungwon.

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone beeps in your purse, and, almost agonizingly, it seemed as if all the excitement that you had been anticipating with your date prior suddenly comes out of its hiding place.

From - Unknown Number: i was helping my friend out w their crim assignment. thought of u the entire time.

Your stomach sinks. He thought of you. How disgustingly domestic. He doesn’t even know who you are, nor do you know who he is, yet he thought of you, and you hated it. Doesn’t he know how much those words mean to you?

He thought of you, the young woman who acts as if you’re tough shit but is too much of a coward to reveal your true identity and ruin the bond they’ve created. He thought of you, the girl who always makes it your job to leave a space between you and other people in your life, until this unknown man came around. He thought of you, making space in his life to talk to you, shifted things to give you a permanent space, and now you’re embedded so deeply into his system that it’s almost like it’s his job to see something and be reminded of you.

He thought of you, not because he needed to, but because he wanted to.

You finds yourself leaning against the door of your bedroom, locking yourself inside before lifting your phone up to type a reply.

You sent: what- but you freeze momentarily, thumbs lifting from the keyboard. How in the world are you going to finish this sentence?

What are you thinking? You’re starting a deep relationship with someone you’ve never even met! You don’t even know my name! I don’t even know your name!

What am I feeling? Why do I get excited whenever my phone buzzes? Why are you making me feel this way? I shouldn’t feel this way.

What are we doing? This isn’t right. I’m scared.

Your breathing is shallow and shaking, staring at the blinking line that seemed to mock you for your loss of words, and then your thumbs begin to move, falling on the reflex answer.

You sent: what are you wearing?

There is a pause in the air before the three dots show up again.

From - Unknown Number: black tee, black skinny jeans, black boxers.

You sent: thats hot

From - Unknown Number: you find everything hot

You sent: that’s bc everything u tell me is hot

Of course, your first thought is of Hyungwon, sitting on his bed, head to toe in black, forking his long fingers through his blonde hair. You gulp and your thighs squeeze together.

From - Unknown Number: what are u wearing?

You sent: a short red dress and black pumps, red lipstick, my hair is up.

From - Unknown Number: shit

From - Unknown Number: are you wet?

You sent: sooo fucking wet

From - Unknown Number: touch urself for me

You suck in a breath, staring at your screen. The two of you have been doing this for months now, yet, every time he orders you what to do, you’re surprised yet humiliated at how eager you are to listen to him. Obediently, you part your legs open, sliding your hands along the skin on inside of your thighs until you reach your clothed pussy. Letting out a sigh at how wet the cloth is, you circle your clothed clit with the tip of your finger.

You sent: im doing it through my panties

From - Unknown Number: push them to the side darling and once you do, push a finger inside yourself.

Fuck, you love it when he calls you that. Your face flushes as this unknown man takes control, and you loves it when he does; god it makes you go crazy. So you do as he says, pushing a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out, bringing a hand up to your mouth to stop yourself from whimpering too loud, knowing Kihyun’s just on the other side of your bedroom wall, sleeping.

From - Unknown Number: are you doing it?

You sent: yes

From - Unknown Number: good girl. now add another finger for me and fuck urself slowly. can u do that for me?

You sent: yes

From - Unknown Number: now, palm your breasts. tug at your nipples slowly, and i want you to keep finger fucking yourself while you do. keep your fingers sliding in and out of you, ok?

You sent: ok

You are obedient, your breath hitching in your throat as you open your legs wider, pumping your own fingers in and out of your body. You imagine him right beside you, imagining his low voice whispering the words at you, hot breath fanning your body, smooth and commanding, and you begin to feel a knot forming at the bottom of your stomach.

From - Unknown Number: move your fingers faster for me, curl them inside of you and rub the way just you like. i bet ur clit is throbbing and aching, isn’t it? it feels good to press on it while you fuck yourself hm? you’re such a good girl, you do thingsi tell you to do becuase you like it whn i tell u to fuck yourself.

You attempt to mute your whimpers by biting the inside of your cheeks, but your endeavours fall futile as you gently whine Hyungwon’s name far too loudly. Your trembling legs are apart, feet on both sides of your body as lewd sounds of your fingers fill the room. You’re almost sure Kihyun can hear you now, but you don’t care.

From - Unknown Number: ur not answeing me anymore. ur too busy fucking urself hm? ur too busy imagining that its me fucking u. that it’s MY fingers inside of you, pumping in and out of your body, that its my teeth tugging at ur nipples. how close are you to coming for me now? i bet it won’t even take you long to respond, fuck, i can just imagine u now. your hands between ur tremblign legs, biting down on ur tongue so u dont scream. but i dont want that. i want u to scream my name.

Your back arches off the wood of your bedroom door, and you know you’re close.

From - Unknown Number: scream my name when u cum. cum baby. cum for me.

And you do as he says, shaking as a choked back moan escapes from your mouth, barely managing to keep it silent. When you come down from your high, you rest your back against your door once more, trembling legs dropping to the floor. You barely attempts cleans yourself before lifting your phone to reply, fingers quivering against the cold screen.

You sent: fuck that was so hot

From - Unknown Number: did you cum?

You sent: cum is an understatement.

From - Unknown Number: good girl.

You sent: its your turn…

From - Unknown Number: oh no its all good. i already came haha

You sent: aw rly.. without my help?

From - Unknown Number: i imagined everything you were doing to yourself and it was hot… so, i guess u did help me in a way.

You freeze.

You sent: wait. you know what i look like?

From - Unknown Number: no but …. i have this … fantasy of what you look like.

You sent: and what does it look like?

From - Unknown Number: (y/hair/colour), (y/skin/colour), (y/height)....

From - Unknown Number: guiltily i think about this girl i detest. i’ve told u about her before. how funny would it be if you were her?

Your heart sinks into your stomach. This is the first time the two of you had ever talked about appearance, and this unknown man hit everything about you spot on. Dread pools around your heart in your stomach as you type out a reply.

You sent: haha who knows

You sent: im sorry i have to go now

You sent: ill text u tmr. good bye

Your phone buzzes one last time but you don’t look at his message, throwing it into your backpack as you finally get up to clean yourself, walking into your bathroom and changing out of your dress, assuring yourself that you aren’t running away but knowing full well that that’s the only thing you’re doing.

 ----

  You don’t text him tomorrow, you don’t text him the next day, the day after that, the next week, or the next month.

You haven’t texted him in five months, but all he did in those five months was think of you, your phone vibrating constantly due to messages from him. Dozens of them. They came in groups at first, but as the months go by, they come through sparser and sparser. At first, he hadn’t realized that you had stopped texting him, but when the first month passed, he grew worried, then they spiralled to apologetic, accusatory, and then he began to blame himself, and once again, spiralled back to apologetic.

From - Unknown Number: good morning!!!

From - Unknown Number: good mornin!

From - Unknown Number: u havent responded to my texts lately.. i hope everythings ok

From - Unknown Number: hello?

From - Unknown Number: if this is about the appearance thing i genuinely apologize. i dont wanna make things uncomfortable for u.

From - Unknown Number: u dont owe me anything

From - Unknown Number: can you please just respond to me one last time. im worried… i just need to know if you’re okay.

From - Unknown Number: my friend jus finished their crim course today. i thought of u.

From - Unknown Number: its been four months and a half… i graduate in a few weeks. i dont know why im sending this to u… i just thought i should tell u...

From - Unknown Number: i miss you.

From - Unknown Number: i wish i never met you. i guess it’s a good thing i never actually did.

It’s for the best, you would tell yourself, before swiping left to get rid of the messages he’s sent you. Still, you can’t ignore the dull pain each message sent to you cuts your skin and strikes you to the bone, even now, during the graduation afterparty, through the valour and cheers of the graduates knowing you’re about to turn a new page in your life, you cannot seem to let go of the words ingrained in your mind.

“Hey,” you feel somebody nudge your arm. “Is everything ok?”

Turning your head, you see Minhyuk, looking at you in worry. You give him a small smile, shoving your phone into the pocket of your short dress before folding your hands in your lap.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you reassure him. “I’m just kinda nervous. We graduated, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand completely.” Minhyuk pouts, nodding his head, but something hidden behind his pupils seem to tell as if he didn’t quite believe you. There is a beat before he begins to talk again. “Oh yeah, I completely forgot to ask you,” Minhyuk starts. “This happened like, a year ago, but it’s always been in the back of my mind.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah? What is it?”

“There was a random number that texted me, Wonho, Jooheon, and Hyungwon around a year back. They said something about being in the same class with me…” he starts, and your eyes begin to widen, but you force yourself into keeping a calm expression. “I’ve asked almost everyone in all my classes if it was them but they all said no. The only one left was you.”

You look away from Minhyuk, almost cursing to your drunk self for giving him such an obvious clue, and then thinking, why not? It is the end of your college career. After this party ends, you’ll most likely never see any of these people anymore, for the rest of your life. Plus, you were almost absolutely sure he wasn’t the unknown man you were texting the past year, right?

You bite the inside of your cheek before replying.

“Yes, it was me.” you confess to him, feeling as if a big weight had just been lifted off your shoulders. “I was drunk, and I don’t know what I was saying. I’m really sorry, Minhyuk. I apologize for any trouble I caused…”

Minhyuk’s eyebrows lift, his jaw slacking a bit. “Really?” he questions you, before grinning. “Oh my gosh, don’t be sorry! That’s so funny. I mean, I would have never thought it’d be you, at all!”

“Really?” you ask him. “What did I send you?”

“You told me that I annoyed you during class,” he pouts, before throwing an arm around you. “But that’s ok! You still put up with me anyways so that’s all that matters.”

You heave out a sigh of relief before letting out a giggle, throwing your own arm around him as the two of you playfully sway to the edm music coursing through the house, for the first time in the past year, almost feeling free.

But it was as if the universe timed it as a way to mock you, because when you opened your eyes to look at the lounge floor, the graduates dancing against each other in strained duress, almost laughably dividing into two for the tall man standing in between, your eyes meet Hyungwon’s.

“Hyungwon!” Minhyuk calls his friend, whose eyes flash from you to Minhyuk. “Come over here!”

You feel your stomach drop at the sight of him and at the sound of his name, seeing him walk over towards the two of you, holding a drink in his hand. He looks absolutely beautiful; his hair flutters over his face in loose waves, and although his roots are beginning to grow in, you can’t help but become slack jaw at how good he manages to pull the look off. His eyes are still trained on you, not one ounce of drunken stupor in his irises. He’s dressed in just a plain white dress shirt and a loosened tie, ditching the black blazer he had sported that morning during the graduation ceremony. As you look him up and down, you begin to remember the messages that the unknown man had sent you, and memories of your fantasies of Hyungwon cloud your mind.

Quickly, you look away.

“(Y/N).” his voice is low. “Congratulations.”

You are hesitant to look up at him but you do so anyways, meeting eyes with him again, his pupils laced with intent, but you cower from him for the first time in the years that you’ve known him, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Hyungwon,” you say, the taste of his name rolling off your tongue begrudgingly identifiable. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too.”

Silence seduces the air between the both of you, unbeknownst to Minhyuk, who still continued to sway back and forth to the future bass music pumping through the speakers. Your eyes are now trained on your hands folded in your lap, and you could feel Hyungwon’s gaze burning into your skin.

“I’m gonna go get a drink.” you excuse yourself, standing up from the couch. “Congratulations again, you guys. I’ll see you around.”

You keep your head ducked as you make a beeline for the liquor table, ignoring the feeling of Hyungwon’s eyes on you. Hastily, you grab a can of beer, hissing at the sudden contact of coldness of the metal can, before you begin to chug it down. You don’t know why you’re so nervous around Hyungwon all of a sudden, as he doesn’t know you’ve been whining his name nor does he know of your fantasies, yet, ever since you had stopped replying to the unknown man, Hyungwon’s presence in your life grew more intense, even as you attempted to avoid him at all costs.

You are on your second beer now and you think about looking for Kihyun for him to watch your intake. You had lost him on your way into the party to the lounge floor which housed almost all of the recent graduates grinding next to each other, you don’t want to know what Kihyun is up to in that sweaty crowd, nor do you want to spoil his fun, so instead, you settle to sit in another seat, opposite side and far from where Hyungwon is.

You aren’t sure if it’s because of the alcohol, but you’re almost sure you can still feel his eyes still trained on you.

“(Y/N),” you hear Kihyun call, and you almost let out a sigh of relief at the appearance of your best friend, sliding into the empty spot next to you. “Come dance with me on the dance floor!”

“I’m good,” you smile at him. “I’m fine just sitting here. My feet hurt from wearing heels all day.”

“Are you sure?” he quirked an eyebrow, and you nod your head. He frowns.

“I know when something is bothering you because you act different,” he says, sighing. “And frankly, you’ve been acting different for the past few months. What is it?”

“Huh?” You look at him, panic setting in. “No, no! I’m not upset or bothered by anything at all. Don’t worry about me, Kihyun, go enjoy yourself.”

“I can’t enjoy myself when I know my best friend is wallowing around,” he pushes you playfully. “Come on. Is it Hyungwon?”

You freeze.

“Hyungwon?” your voice is quiet. “Why would it be Hyungwon?”

“(Y/N), me and him are pretty close, and I’ve known you since, like, grade school,” he tells you. “I know when you’re hiding a secret, and I know when you’re lying. It’s fairly obvious that the two of you were a thing, plus… you weren’t really discreet some nights.” He snickers and you punch his arm.

“Kihyun,” you look at him. “Me and Hyungwon were never a thing. We literally hate each other.”

“He looks at you as if you stole all the stars in the night sky for him and you practically look at him like a love-drunk puppy,” he tells you. “People that hate each other don’t look at each other that way,”

“Kihyun, I’m being serious,” you tell him, grabbing his hands and looking him intently in the eyes. “I’m not with Hyungwon. I’ve never been with Hyungwon. And never, in my life, have I ever wanted to be with Hy-”

Your buzzing phone indicating a call cuts your sentence off, and you thank the heavens for a way out of this conversation. You excuse yourself from Kihyun, who only nods and takes a sip from his red cup as you walk to a much more secluded area, away from the bounding music. You don’t read the caller id, swiping right to accept it.

“Hello?” you breath into your phone.

It’s absolute silence for a few seconds, and you think that it may have been a misdial and that they had hung up, turning around to return to the party, but you bump into something warm and tall. Looking up, your heart drops into your stomach.

Hyungwon stands in front of you, his own phone pressed against his ear.

The horribly familiar words roll off his tongue so easily.

“What are you wearing?”

Dropping your phone, you do the only thing you know how to do.

You run.

You run quickly, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the sounds of the party, drowning out Hyungwon’s voice as he calls after you. It’s ironic, how many times you manage to find yourself running away from anything that has to deal with him, but you want nothing else than to never show your face in front of Hyungwon ever again. How could you, when the months you’ve texted that unknown man, the months you’ve texted Hyungwon himself, were filled with revelations of secrets and desires, something you haven’t ever told your own best friend.

The night is cold when you open the door, and you shiver momentarily before warmth surrounds you. You feel the worsted wool cloak around you, smelling Hyungwon’s rich cologne as he walks past you, searching for his keys deep in his pockets. You hear his car beep, signalling that it’s been unlocked, and a dread pools your stomach.

“Get in the car.” his voice is calm, but it sets humiliation aflame in the back of your throat.

“No.” you say, ridding of his blazer and letting it fall on the concrete ground.

Hyungwon pivots on his heel, looking at you with eyes filled with emotions you cannot decipher. He walks closer to you, grabbing his crumpled blazer, before standing up straight and towering before you.

“Get in the car.” he repeats, his calm demeanour less relaxed, voice strained against grit teeth. You listen this time, getting into his car and sitting on the passenger’s seat before he slams the door closed, heading over to the driver’s seat and doing the same. The time it took for him to turn on the engine and speed off into the empty streets is silent, you only wish for the rest of the car ride to be the same, but of course, it wasn’t.

“Why did you do it?” he asks you after a few minutes, his voice hush against the smooth purr of the engine, focused on the road in front of him. His grip on the steering wheel was tight. You gulp. “Did you think it was funny?”

“No.”

“No?” he turns his head towards you momentarily before snapping his attention back on the road. “After a year of making me go crazy, after a year of making me feel something and then tearing me apart, no is all you have to say?”

“N-No.” you answer again. You can see his fingers tense against the steering wheel.

“Evidently, you have a vocabulary,” his tone is venomous. “So use it.”

“Please stop.” your face is red with embarrassment, recalling some of the messages you have sent him, remembering the feeling that washed over you when you whined his name to an empty room accompanied with lewd noises. “Stop.”

“Stop what?” he asks you, voice still dangerously calm. “Stop talking? So I can pull something like what you did and cut all contact we have with each other? Is that what you want? Because I fucking know that that wasn’t what you fucking wanted. Because, hell, you begged me to keep going, you begged me to keep talking, you begged me to stay. Bullshit. You didn’t even stay with me, you didn’t even tell me if you were okay.”

You bite down on your lip, eyeing your fists in your lap. Your heartbeat is beating out of your chest at this point, but you can’t tell of what.

“I know you thought of me, (Y/N),” he says, after a few seconds. “You began to avoid me, and as I did you. I thought I was doing a carnal sin, I was supposed to hate you. I’m supposed to hate you. So why did I keep thinking of you?”

It takes all for Hyungwon to not scream then and there, the frustration finally getting to him, stepping on the breaks as his car screeches to a halting stop on the side of the road, next to a mass of trees. He pushes open his side of the car and gets out, running his hands through his hair, almost stressed, before kicking the tire of his car in frustration. You watch him go through a great deal of emotions before you decide to step out of the car yourself.

“I just wanna hear one thing,” he tells you, turning around, eyes pleading. “One thing. One single thing. An apology. A confession. A proper goodbye. It doesn’t matter. Just one thing, one more thing from you, please, (Y/N).”

“Why do you care?” you ask him, voice hush. “You aren’t supposed to care.”

He pivots on his heel, grabbing the top of his car as he looks at you, boring his eyes into yours, as if he were searching for something in your pupils. He bites his lip before opening his mouth.

“Is it not obvious, enough, (Y/N)?” he whispers.

“What?” you stammer.

“I care, fuck, I’ve always pushed it to the back of my mind but what happened between us just made it all the clearer for me that I do care for you,” he pauses. “I care for you because I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widen at that confession, freezing in time.

“You can’t just say that to me like it’s nothing.” you whisper, and that’s when the tears begin to tease your waterline.

“I’m not saying it like it’s nothing.” Hyungwon’s voice grows louder. “I love you. I’m in love with you. Fuck, (Y/N), I’m in love with you, and I’ve acted like an idiot all these years trying to get your attention. I’m not saying this like it’s nothing. I’m in love w-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence due to your lips pressed against his, and if it were anything like the movies, you were almost sure you saw electric sparks flying between the both of you. He kisses you, his arm snaked around the small of your back and his other hand pressed against the back of your head, and you kiss him back, arms wrapped around his neck as you pull him closer. Your tongue finds its way into his mouth, hungry for him, pressing his body against yours, the same way the both of you had been imagining for a year.

He backs you up towards the hood of the car and slams you down, lips disconnecting from yours before re-attaching them to your neck, littering your skin with memoirs of him in the form of purple lesions.

“My name,” he whispers in between kisses. “Say my name.”

“H-Hyungwon,” you moan, used to his name slipping from between your lips, but the unfamiliarity of his body against yours causing you more excitement. He sucks on a certain spot on your neck, before licking it to soothe the soft pain. “Hyungwon, please.”

“What is it?” he coaxes you with his words just as much as he is with his lips, hand snaking up your body as he begins to knead your breasts through your red dress. Moans and whimpers fall from your lips at his simple touch, and he smirks to himself. “Tell me what you want, darling.”

“I want you,” you tell him, bucking your hips when you feel his hand sliding up your thighs. “I want you, Hyungwon, please.”

“Out here?” he challenges you. “On the hood of my car? If someone were to drive by, they’d see us.”

“I don’t fucking care,” the ache between your thighs and Hyungwon’s touch is the only thing on your mind. “Please just fuck me. Please.”

Hyungwon chuckles, letting his hand cup you through your panties, the wet material causing a strain to build up in Hyungwon’s crotch. He curses under his breath, lips coming back into contact with yours, swallowing your moans as his tongue dances with yours.

“You’re such a good girl, asking so nicely,” he whispers after pulling away, moving your panties to the side, fingers finding your clit, brushing past it as you curse out loud. It was humiliating how wet you’ve become just from his simple touch and his words, an arrogant smirk making its way onto his face. “So wet for me already, and I haven’t even been inside you yet.”

His fingers find their way back to your clit, softly running over your bundle of nerves, too soft for your liking as you whine, bucking your hips. He pulls his fingers away from your pussy, pushing your hips back onto the cold metal of the hood of his car.

His voice is low. “Be quiet or else I won’t fuck you at all.”

You retract your impatience at his words, biting down on your lips as he circles your clit with his middle finger, adding a bit more pressure this time. His eyes are on you, watching your face intently as you try to force back a moan. His free hand finds its way to your face, tracing your bottom lip with your thumb, before pulling his other hand away from your pussy. Gently, he tugs at your chin, signalling for you to open your mouth.

“Wet your fingers for me, darling.”

You oblige, opening your lips, letting his long fingers roam your mouth. Hyungwon watches as you suck on his fingers, tongue dancing across the two digits, eyes boring into his. The strain in his pants becomes tighter, but he wants to focus on you, instead imagining that it was his cock your tongue dances around. He pulls his hand away from your mouth, bringing you closer for a kiss. You groan into it as your spread your legs wider, wordlessly begging him to do something, to which he does, slipping his wet fingers inside of you.

The sensation shocked you at first, his long fingers filling you out well, but as they begin to move inside you all you can do is let out a moan against his lips, the sinful sound is music to his ears. His fingers are slick inside of you, moving in and out of you painfully slow at first, but as your kiss begins to become a little more sloppy, he quickens the pace of his fingers.

“You like that, hm? You like my fingers fucking you like this?” he mumbles against your lips, grinning as he hears you moan loudly. “Shit, look at you. You’re such a mess already, what will you become once my cock is inside you?”

You aren’t even able form words, the pleasure overtaking you and his words the only thing echoing in your ears. It was as if your hand sprung to life on its own, making its way towards his crotch, palming him through the fabric of his jeans. You felt his bulge, how hard he was for you, and knowing you were so close to it yet so far due to the layers of clothing, it drove you crazy.

“I want it, Hyungwon.” you whine, adding pressure to your hand as you pet him. He suppresses a moan, and obliging to your words, he undoes his jeans, pulling his cock free from underneath his boxers. You grab hold of him, already so stiff in your hands as you begin to jerk him off slowly, pumping your hand back and forth around his cock as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. He buries his head into your neck as he begins to buck his hips against your hand, moaning into your neck as he does.

“Fuck, this is s-so hot.” you whisper in his ear, beginning to feel the knot forming in your abdomen as his fingers pick up the pace. It is when the tips of his fingers brush against the certain spot inside of you when you let out a gasp, your hips bucking into his hand, feeling him smile into your neck. “S-Shit, I’m gonna cum.” A chain of curses fall out of your mouth, words you aren’t able to comprehend rolling off your tongue much as you come undone with just his fingers. You whine, legs trembling as he kisses your neck, chuckling lightly before pressing his lips to yours.

“It’s your turn,” you mumble against his lips, his cock still stiff in your hand. Precum had already began to leak out of his tip, coating him and your hand in a sheen of liquid. You pull away, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. “I want to taste you.”

Wordlessly, he pulls you off the hood of his car and towards the passenger’s side, standing behind his car for protection in case anyone were to drive by and see. He lets his pants and boxers pool at his feet, before kissing you once more, hands busy grabbing your ass.

“Get on your knees,” he tells you, and you’re obedient, listening to him as you press your knees down into the concrete, hissing at the pain of your knees but thirsting for him to be in your mouth. You lick your lips as you look up at him, waiting for his neck order, and he nudges the corner of your mouth the the tip of his cock. “Open your mouth for me, darling.”

He enters your mouth, letting out a gruff moan as he does, the feeling of your tongue on his cock driving him crazy. He’s waited for this moment for so long, seeing you on your knees in front of him, listening to every word he says is so vastly different from the image he’s used to seeing from you - annoyed at him, nagging at him, telling him off. That thought alone is enough to send him over the edge, but he wants to savour this; he wants to savour you. You start off with a few kitten licks, feeling his cock twitch and rest against your face, smiling as you watch his, normally indifferent facial expression, turn into something sinful.

“You look so beautiful like this,” his voice is hushed, breathy. “With your lips around me.”

He cranes his neck back at the feeling of your mouth around his cock, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. He’s holding onto the roof of the car, using his other hand to comb your hair out of your face to get a better look at you, a mix of adoration and lust in his irises. You grab onto his thighs for balance, your knees already beginning to give out, and just as you do, you hear tires and the hum of an engine just a few meters away.

You widen your eyes, realizing that someone is about to drive past, pulling away from his cock.

“Did I say you could stop?” asks Hyungwon, reaching down and grabbing your chin, looking into your eyes.

“Hyungwon, what if they s-”

“Did I say you could stop?” he asks again, and you bite your bottom lip, a course of excitement running through you, feeling yourself throb at the thought of getting caught, and with that, you take him back into his mouth, licking strips from his base to his head before wrapping your lips around him, taking him to the back of your mouth, ignoring the hum of the engine and headlights passing you by. They had no doubt seen Hyungwon, he towers over his car with his height, but you didn’t care.

“Shit, shit, stop,” Hyungwon grunts as your swirl your tongue around his head, pulling you up, much to your confusion. “I wanna cum while I fuck you.”

And with that, he presses you against the side of the hood of his car, pushing the hem of your dress up to your waist. He bites down on his bottom lip as he teases your slit with the head of his cock, hearing you mewl his name and different variations of begging, wasting no time to find a good pace before slamming into you. The contact causes you mewl to break into a pleasured scream, his cock pumping in and out of you, stretching you out and making you grab onto Hyungwon’s white button up shirt, wrinkling the fabric, loud gasps and pleading escaping your mouth.

“Hyungwon!” his name escapes from behind your lips like honey as he slams into you again and again, lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, grunts and gasping filling the air.

This isn’t anything Hyungwon has ever done before, fucking on the hood of his car like something less of a human, but he doesn’t give a damn. If someone were to drive by and witness the two of you fucking like animals, he wouldn’t give a shit; his thoughts are clouded with pleasure and all that he hears and sees at that moment is you. Your voice, your parted lips, the feeling your fingernails sink into the fabric of his shirt on his forearms, your walls spasming around him. He’s too needy and too desperate for you to care about anything else.

He brushes past your certain spot again, causing you to scream his name once more, widening your legs as he hits it again and again.

“I’m gonna c-cum. H-Hyungwon, I’m g-gonna cum, fuck, please.” you stammer out in broken sobs, the familiar knot appearing in your abdomen once again. You’re almost certain that you’re beginning to see stars lining your vision, words unfamiliar to one-another slipping out of your mouth in strings of pleasure.

“If you cum, I’ll never fuck you again.”

His tone causes you to whimper, trying to keep your high to yourself as best as you can, your breath already beginning to falter. You can’t stop your walls from spasming around him, clenching the muscles in your thighs to try and help yourself from going against Hyungwon’s word, but your attempts fall flat as his cock sliding in and out of you at that speed and at that strength only causes your desire to grow bigger and bigger.

“H-Hyungwon, please, I can’t hold it,” you mewl, letting out short gasps of breath as he continues to rut against you. Your cheeks are red with both embarrassment and agony, your knees already beginning to buckle. He leans over, kissing your neck as his hips move into yours rhy “P-Please, please, please, I want to cum. Please let me cum.”

“I said hold it.” Hyungwon’s breath is warm against the skin of your neck, his hands pulling down the front of your dress, exposing your chest. He moves his face, enveloping your nipple into his mouth, plump lips sucking onto you as his hand kneads your other breast. The feeling of his tongue circling around your nub drove you crazy, his eyes boring into yours. You can’t stand to keep your orgasm under wraps, your entire body trembles now.

“H-Hyungwon, p-please!” you cry out, your hands flying towards his hair, pulling onto his blonde strands as you feel tears tease your waterline. Your grip on his hair tightens with each thrust he pushes into you, as if he were leaving remnants of himself inside of you, a growing smirk teasing his lips as he watches your failing attempts to hold yourself back. You arch your back from the hood of the car, letting out gasps of shock every time you feel the knot in your stomach slowly untying, clenching all the muscles you know of to try and stop yourself.

“Such a good girl,” Hyungwon’s whispers, his eyebrows beginning to furrow together and his eyes glazing over, signalling that he is close to his orgasm as well. “You’re so good… Fuck! I’m almost there, fuck.”

Hyungwon bites down on his bottom lip, leaning back again as he grabs your hips, fucking into your even harder than he was before. At this point, you’ve lost all awareness of your surroundings, you couldn’t care less if someone were to drive by and see the two of you fucking on top of Hyungwon’s car, all you cared about was your release, one that you kept pushing back so many times you’re almost sure it’ll take a toll on your body once you let go. His hand snakes from your breast and back to your pussy, his thumb adding pressure onto your clit, a sensation that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as your jaw turns slack, letting out a moan of pleasure.

“I-I can’t take it anymore, Hyungwon,” you whimper, trying to push away his hand when you know all you want is to bring it closer. “Hyungwon. I can’t hold it, I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Then cum,” he whispers, looking down at you through his hooded eyelids. “Cum for me, darling.”

And you waste no time obliging to his word, the feeling of pleasure ripping through your body as you screw your eyes shut, stars behind your eyelids as you moan, Hyungwon’s name mixed with different curses and other lewd sounds. He still continued to fuck you through your orgasm, already sensitive from the amount of pressure that you’ve received throughout the night, and it causes your entire body to tremble and convulse.

“Fuck, fuck, (Y/N), I’m cumming,” Hyungwon grunts, before pulling out of you. He holds onto the side of his car as he pumps himself onto you, staining your pretty red dress and your trembling thighs, your name laced around sinful words and immoral moans rolling off his tongue.

You watch him as you come down from your orgasm, the juxtaposition in the setting almost laughable as you take in his beauty; his blonde hair stuck to his face with sweat, framing his features so nicely; his already plump lips even plumper now from all the body praise, kissing and licking every surface of you he encountered, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip. You sit up from the hood of his car, a grin on your face before you grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him in for another kiss, he still grunts from sensitivity but still pushes his lips against yours, soft as you snake your hands around his neck.

And the night continued on like that, limbs entangled in one another in the backseat of his car now; the two of you are almost thankful that no one ever really drives on this road. He kissed you everywhere and as did you, making sure you savoured every part of him for all the years that you’ve missed, connecting your body with his - the only thing that divided the both of you was the thin layer of sweat on your bodies that accumulated as the night went on. You’ve lost count of the amount of orgasms he had given you that night, but it didn’t matter; the two of you have waited for this for far too long.

Dawn nearly breaks the night sky when quiet finally takes place in his car, the windows fogged up and chests slowly rising and falling now instead of rapidly panting. You lay your head on top of his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You think back on when he was simply just an unknown number to you, the feelings that you had formed for the unknown man and Hyungwon, and you suppress a giggle when you realize how many times the answer was right in front of your eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asks amusedly, hands busy entangled in your hair, twirling strands around his fingers. He smelt of rich vanilla, a smell that you could not stand, once upon a time, but found yourself drowning in rapture now.

“Nothing,” you say, nuzzling your face into his naked chest. Your clothes had been discarded long ago, littering the floor of Hyungwon’s car. “I’m just thinking of all the times I could’ve figured out you were the unknown number. The answers were right in front of me the entire time.”

You think back on it; the first time he had texted you kindly, asking what he should buy for breakfast, and heeding to your word of buying a bagel, and how you ended up glaring at Hyungwon across your classroom that day for being so obnoxious with his bagel, the one you had advised him to buy in the first place. The day after the two of you started sexting, how he announced that he was going to buy a red velvet cookie, and thus, glaring at him again for being obnoxious with it. His friend from criminology had to be your mutual friend, Minhyuk, as well. It was almost embarrassing how many clues you had missed.

“We were literally texting each other even when we were a few feet away,” he laughs, petting your hair down. “We’re both dumb. We’re perfect for each other.”

You pout at him playfully. “Hey, I’m not dumb!” you tell him, to which he smiles at you with eyes that could compete against crescent moons. “You’re mean, I like you better through text.”

He chuckles. “So you wanna go back to just texting huh?” Hyungwon questions you, quirking an eyebrow. “Then I won’t be able to do this.” He leans down and presses his lips against yours for a few seconds, feeling your body ultimately melting into the kiss. He pulls away, grinning from ear to ear as you lay there, heat rising in your cheeks.

“Actually, never mind. I like you a lot better in person.” you say, after a few seconds of silence, to which he lets out a soft chuckle. He stares at you for a moment, eyes softening at your sight as a easeful smile graces his lips. Leaning down, he kisses your forehead.

“I like you a lot better in person too.”

Kihyun was right, Hyungwon really does look at you as if you stole all the stars in the night sky for him.

FIN.

[kintsugi-sheep]

2021.01.10: Redcaps and Manga Reviewing, Vigor and Nostalgia

Alright, so what happened this week?

Well, I don’t think I’ll ever forget what happened this week. I was six when September 11th occurred, so I wasn’t really cognizant of what had happened. But I am cognizant now. And I won’t forget what happened on January 6th for a very long time. I don’t consider myself especially patriotic or loyal to the democratic system of government as it operates in this country, but I do acknowledge when something so sacrosanct is violated.

I don’t want to spend time getting into this. If you’re old enough to find this blog post you’re old enough to know what happen. I hadn’t intended for that to be what I wanted to talk about anyway.

Where I left off last week, I wanted to announce my intention of making a video on Shaman King.

There are a number of hurdles—some might even dare to call them issues—with this idea. I’m not a reviewer. I don’t have any video editing experience. I don’t have a platform of great enough scale to protect my work. And, for the nature of what I intend to write, I may not even have enough time to get it out before the series drops in April.

So why bother?

Because I love the series. For years, it almost never came up in conversation, but when it did, I was pumped up with the nostalgia I had while reading it. I didn’t know where this excitement came from for years.

It’s a good manga. Not the best that there ever was, but yet I inexplicably loved it. And I didn’t really know why. But when I was asked what my favorite manga of all time was my answer would be Shaman King.

When I heard the anime was getting a re-release and when I heard they were going to re-publish the manga in full this time, I was ecstatic. I told my friend about it and, being the type of person who’s typically late regarding news related to anime releases, they already knew.

Then, I saw the articles. And my heart ached.

Read my article about how Shaman King is pulling a Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood.

Read my article about ten characters that will be in this anime that weren’t in the original.

Read about whether or not this character is okay for woke 2021.

And I my stomach sinks when I think about what will be coming next.

Theories made by people who read the series and are reciting spoilers for clicks.

Essays on why Hao is the greatest anime villain of all time for clicks.

Speculation on whether or not Yoh can beat Goku in a fight.

I don’t have a very high opinion of journalism. And knowing that the series I love will be used and disposed of for quick clicks is upsetting to me.

In deciding to do this project, I put it all together. I realized why I loved this series.

When I drew as a youngster, Shaman King’s stab-your-eye-out-on-my-protagonist’s-edges art was my early influence for character design.

Every story I’ve come up with—whether or not it’s been continued, recycled into another idea, or wholly abandoned—has had themes of spirituality that I’d only seen present in Shaman King as a child watching it on the FoxBox.

It was my exposure to the reality that manga and anime don’t always coincide; I hadn’t watched FMA or FMAB yet.

I used to record the Saturday morning cartoons and watch them with my grandmother, and while for years I’d hop between Fox, the WB, and ABC recording cartoons so that we’d watch things like Lilo and Stitch, Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, the Proud Family, Xiaolin Showdown, Coconut Fred, Ultimate Muscle, Johnny Test, Mucha Lucha, Jackie Chan Adventures, even One Piece—to name what I could from the top of my head, these shows didn’t all run on these channels in the same breadth of time—I’d skip over Shaman King, keeping it selfishly to myself like a child would.

This week, it hurt watching a bunch of redneck monsters trample over the Capitol. As someone cynical of the government, it hurt to know something so sacrosanct could be treated so shamefully. But it hurts so much worse to imagine that I wasted all these years, like a boy concealing his affection for a girl until she falls into the arms of someone else, to actually take the time and express the love I have for this series.

The image of this post is an issue of Jump a buddy of mine bought at a thrift store or yard sale and gave me almost three years ago. I posted the picture with a long blurb about how my week feeling on Facebook. A lot of it is auxiliary, but I’d like to recount what I wrote here.

Spoiler alert, I was feeling a little pretentious that day:

 “Vigor. Even writing this feels more cumbersome than it actually is.

How do I say what I mean? I hate nostalgia. It’s true, if hyperbolic. I see it cut down so many peers, creatives, and critics like a guillotine; a sloppy, artificially guided, swift force that lops their heads into a collective basket of thought.

Still, this past week I’ve felt my own dismissive chest opened with a more surgical precision that permissed” [NOT A WORD] “nostalgia to play with my heart strings. I reflected on Avatar, a show from a time when animated shows didn’t have their runtimes bisected for the simpler consumption of children that would choke on anything longer, that powered itself on the labor and inspired vision of its creators and crew as opposed to memes for the children and references for the adults, and had the temerity to demand that an audience be comfortable going thirty minutes at a time without a joke to amuse them.

My friend went to Pennsylvania and got me an issue of the now defunct Shonen Jump magazine from 2004. It had series of comics I’d forgotten about and an ad for Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man 2, but those were inconsequential. I find Shaman King to be the greatest comic I’ve ever read and in August, the month of the issue I’d received, the protagonist was featured prominently on the cover. I remembered how engrossing it was to read something with that level of complexity; taking into account my age. And never since have I seen a series with such a great balance of brutality and humor and never since have I seen any form of media where” [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] “led to a happy ending.

To round it off, within the hours before writing this I’d watched Feel Good Inc. I couldn’t help but feel my eyes begin to water at the genius of Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett. An unforgettable song latticed with moments of haunting beauty and brilliance.

As a child I would sit down for hours to draw terribly. And I loved every warped, misshapen, humanoid, tailed thing I drew. I’d scan my grandmother’s cookbooks and write recipes by mending foods I liked together in a manner similar to Frankenstein assembling his monster. I wrote chapter after chapter of a terrible story because I wanted to prove to my first girlfriend that I could write something better than twilight. I had a sense of self-motivation. I hadn’t struggled through college for a year to graduate without confidence in my own abilities. Or lost friends to unfair circumstances beyond my control or the ignorance of how much control I had. Or been stressed to the point of genuine fear from some of my earlier work. In many ways I still feel like the child I was when I lived at my grandmother’s house. Except now as a child too anxious to do anything besides what he knows will keep him alive.

How do I say what I mean? Not well. That, too, may have been a bit too hyperbolic. It’s not that I hate nostalgia, but that I fear being stagnated in memories of better days. Still, like a failing vegetarian having a hamburger the time I’ve taken to indulge myself has let me realize something I’ve been missing from my diet.

Vigor.”

[marveling-chrisevans]

Exam Week | Chris Evans x Reader

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader / Chris Evans x You

Warnings:  Very Fluffy / caring for you 

Words Count: 971

Prompt: No Prompt - just me struggling with exam week and needing a break 

Summary: You and Chris, Have been together for a second or more, and he knows how you get about school and knows that you work yourself to the bone to try and get the best grade. 

Tag-List: @patzammit @torntaltos @smoothdogsgirl

A/N: so Ive been so busy with school work this term and haven’t had a chance to really write so I just wrote this really fast, giving myself a break from essays about psychology (my major) I know this is not my best work and its a little short. Sorry I'm hoping to try and get back into writing a little bit more this week as its finally thanksgiving break. 

College was a something that you knew you wanted to go. One thing that you didn’t know was that you were going to be as stressed as you were. You didn’t know what exactly you getting yourself into. You knew you always had an idea of what you wanted to do. Helping people was always something you did even as a child. Making sure everyone around you was good, making sure everyone had what they needed even if it was something that you didn’t do for yourself. Thats how you got yourself into the situation you were in. You worked a full time job, you helped out your family and on top of doing everything you can for everyone you were in college full time. Jugging a lot of things right now kinda overwhelmed you. You didn’t think that you had time for someone else in your life till you met him. He loved how independent you were and he loved that you had your own thing going on, and you two would talk all the time but it wasn’t like constantly needing to see each other. He was a busy person between filming and interviews but he always knew how to say the right things to you to make sure that you were on the right track. 

Everything had come to a boiling point. It was finals. You had five classes, all of them heavy loaded classes for your major.  During the week leading up to the exams you basically ignored everyone. Just you and the books, and some music for some reason having some sort of background noise to help you concentrate and well I was really to keep you awake. The guy in your life knew it was getting close to the time and knew that during that time of the year you didn’t really take care of yourself as if you were not working you were with your head in a text book reviewing everything. Pulling an all nighter then night before and clocking into your shift at 7 am. The only plus side to your job is that you get to work at home. At least during that time you could be at home. The moment your shift was over you went back to the library to keep studying. Your boo had just flew back to the area because he had interviews for his new movie. He knew you, and he knew that you most likely hadn’t eaten in days. All he had to do was locate friends to see that you were in the library, and he knew exactly within there you would be. You were sitting in a dark quiet corner of the library with your noise canceling headphones on, not to disrupt anyone else as you worked on your next final which was for Psych. And the different disorders and how to diagnosis them. Going on about 36 hours with no sleep you were really starting to feel it. You closed your eyes for a few moments as you were looking over the intake forms for the exam. It was in 10 hours. You had 10 hours to make everything would stick.

You didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did you ended up falling asleep with your head in your hand till someone tapped on your shoulder. You quickly jumped and turned around and quickly pulled off your headphones as you saw the man standing in front of you. A smile grew on your face “Chris” you said to the man “what are you doing here? I thought you were in Boston taking some time off?” You asked him “why would I take time off and not come and see you?” He wondered as he sat next to you and slide food in front of you “when was the last time you slept?” He asked as he was now concerned “uh its been a moment, but this food should help thank you, I don’t know what I did to deserve you” you said back to him and kissed his cheek, “oh I saw you and Your brother did that interview. It was cute” you replied. Trying to change the subject off of you and your study habits. “not changing the subject, your test is in the morning, come on we are going back to my place and you are going to get some sleep, you are not going to be any good to yourself or the exam unless you get some sleep” He said as he reached over and put a pencil in your book and closed it. You had just put a fry in your mouth and looked over at him “are you crazy, you know I need this class to graduate. I can’t fail this exam if I do then I fail the class im not going anywhere” she said back to him and took the book back from him. Chris sighed and looked at you “y/n, just come to my house and study, then if you fall asleep then you don’t have to worry about Someone kidnapping your or putting GHP in your drink” He said giving you a stern look just looking out for you, knowing there had been a few incidents on the campus lately about it. 

you caved and then went ahead and closed up your books and looked up at him “as long as you be the gentle men and carry a ladies book” 

Chris smiled and picked up your laptop and your books and escorted you out of the library. You carried your food as thats what you were worried about. The moment you got to his house and sat on the couch to open a text book you found yourself asleep. You knew this would happen as you felt at home. 

[anniekoh]

betraying big brother

Leta Hong Fincher’s book Betraying Big Brother: The Feminist Awakening in China is a fascinating introduction to China today -- politics, media, culture -- through the feminist activists trying to change politics, media and culture.

On the eve of International Women’s Day in 2015, the Chinese government arrested five feminist activists and jailed them for thirty-seven days. The Feminist Five became a global cause célèbre, with Hillary Clinton speaking out on their behalf and activists inundating social media with #FreetheFive messages. But the Five are only symbols of a much larger feminist movement of civil rights lawyers, labor activists, performance artists, and online warriors prompting an unprecedented awakening among China’s educated, urban women. In Betraying Big Brother, journalist and scholar Leta Hong Fincher argues that the popular, broad-based movement poses the greatest challenge to China’s authoritarian regime today. Through interviews with the Feminist Five and other leading Chinese activists, Hong Fincher illuminates both the difficulties they face and their “joy of betraying Big Brother,” as one of the Feminist Five wrote of the defiance she felt during her detention. Tracing the rise of a new feminist consciousness now finding expression through the #MeToo movement, and describing how the Communist regime has suppressed the history of its own feminist struggles, Betraying Big Brother is a story of how the movement against patriarchy could reconfigure China and the world.

Given how little the U.S. media reports on China, the book covered new-to-me flashpoints such as the Guangzhou Sanitation Strike, 

[Image source: Around 200 sanitation workers in Guangzhou’s Liwan district scuffle with police during a strike over low pay on 10 January 2013]

[Image source & caption: As basic services get privatized, there's a rising tide of sanitation worker strikes in the Pearl River Delta. But this one was unusual: the striking workers are mostly former villagers, displaced from their homes here a decade ago when the university "Mega Center" took over the island. Photo: Zheng Churan.]

132: In May 2017, Chinese authorities detained another three labor activists who were investigating working conditions at shoe factories in southern and eastern China owned by Huajian International, which made shoes for the brand of Ivanka Trump, daughter of (and advisor to) US president Donald Trump. The three labor activists were held at a detention center in Ganzhou, Jiangxi Province, until the end of June, then released on bail pending a trial. Several workers from the Ganzhou factory reported long hours stretching past midnight, low pay, and verbal abuse. One worker said that an angry manager had hit him in the head with the sharp end of a high-heeled shoe, causing his head to bleed, according to the Associated Press. Ivanka Trump and her company repeatedly declined to comment.

Despite the extremely repressive environment, labor protests and strikes continue, with women workers increasingly on the front lines. In March 2018, around a thousand factory workers—70 percent of whom were women—went on strike at the Simone luxury handbag plant in Guangzhou to demand back payment of their social insurance contributions. The South Korean firm Simone Accessories is one of the biggest manufacturers for global designer brands, including Michael Kors, Marc Jacobs and Coach, with locations in countries such as China, Cambodia and Vietnam. Simone Accessories began moving operations from its Guangzhou factory to cheaper locations in 2017, and the Guangzhou workers worried that they might never receive their long-overdue social insurance and housing fund benefits. The largely women workers went on strike, and after nine days of collective bargaining, reached an agreement with management over their demands.

Zheng Churan of the Feminist Five has linked her feminist activism with a deep concern for labor rights and working-class women ever since she was a student at the prestigious Sun Yat-sen University in Guangzhou. In August 2014, she went almost daily to take photographs and hand out protest stickers to the striking University Town sanitation workers. Their strike attracted a lot of media attention, but Zheng says reporters were only taking pictures of the male workers, even though 80 percent of the sanitation workers were women: “Why weren’t the women workers being shown? I decided I had to take my own pictures of the women, and we also handed out stickers to the women workers to express their demands and stick them on their faces and clothes. It was all very visual.” She posted an online photo essay with the title, “These Are Women with Strength and Power.”

One of Zheng’s photos showed a woman worker smiling at the camera, with a sticker across her forehead that said, “Guangdian Property, Stop Doing Evil.” In another photo, a woman worker had her fist raised, with a sticker on her cheek that said, “Pay Me for My Labor.” Another showed six uniformed women workers huddled together, laughing as they reached out their hands to do a team cheer, their faces covered with stickers saying things like, “She Gave Nine Years of Blood and Sweat/You Used Her Then Threw Her Away.” A male co-worker stood beside the women, cheering them on.

[Li Maizi (left) takes part in a 2012 protest against domestic violence in Beijing. Photo courtesy of Media Monitor for Women Network. Via Dissent Mag]

In Chapter 7, China’s Patriarchal Authoritarianism, Hong Fincher zooms out to the political context of how patriarchy and authoritarianism are being revised for 21st century China. 136: The threat from feminist activists was perceived to be so dire that in May 2017, the People’s Daily online—the official mouthpiece of the Party—published an announcement from the vice president of the All-China Women’s Federation warning that “Western hostile forces” were using “Western feminism” and the notion of “putting feminism above all else” to attack China’s Marxist views on women and the country’s “basic policies on gender equality.” “Some are using the banner of ‘rights defense,’ ‘poverty alleviation’ and ‘charity’ to directly meddle in our country’s women’s affairs, attempting to look for weaknesses and make a breach in the field of women’s issues,” Song Xiuyan warned. 

...

The collection Women and Confucian Cultures in Premodern China, Korea and Japan illuminates how premodern rulers deliberately used Confucian discourse to prescribe models of feminine behavior that would consolidate their hold on power.... In one of the volume’s essays, “Competing Claims on Womanly Virtue in Late Imperial China,” Fangqin Du and Susan Mann write that during the Yuan Dynasty (roughly 1279 to 1368), the government explicitly promoted a neo-Confucian model of family and womanly virtue as its official ideology, which was essential to its statecraft. Yuan rulers followed an early classical text, The Great Learning, which taught that “regulating the family was the first step in administering the state.”  ... It is striking how much recent Communist Party propaganda preaching “family values” harkens back to the Confucian discourse from the imperial era on womanly virtues.

This reminds me of how womanhood and nationalism were mobilized in 20th century Korea, before colonization, during annexation, and after liberation. I’m curious how things have evolved in North Korea.

In March 2017, just as Weibo was imposing a month-long ban on the Feminist Voices social media account and erasing feminist essays posted on WeChat, Xinhua ran an article (picked up by media outlets across China) entitled, “A Review of President Xi’s Greetings to Women over Five Years,” accompanied by photos of adoring female delegates smiling at him and applauding. “President Xi in many of his keynote speeches addressed the dialectical relationship between national development and family construction, showing the Communist Party Central Committee’s great concern on women and family work,” Xinhua reported. “Women play an active role in nurturing traditional family values … Virtues are precious treasures for the promotion of family harmony, social stability and the well-being of the next generation,” Xi was quoted as saying. At no point did the Xinhua article mention the critical importance of working women to China’s long-term economic growth. Rather, it focused entirely on how much Xi emphasized women’s obligations within the family—in particular, taking care of children and the elderly. “Women should take responsibility for youngsters’ education; boost the traditional positive virtues of the Chinese nation; and, contribute to the social ethos,” Xi was quoted as saying.  144: In March 2018, the All-China Women’s Federation in Zhenjiang, Jiangsu Province, started a series of courses for “New Era Women” (for Xi Jinping’s “New Era”) to “raise the quality” (tigao suzhi) of young women by teaching them how to cross their legs, sit, kneel, apply make-up and decorate the home like proper ladies, according to “traditional culture.” These government-sponsored schools are disturbingly similar to the unofficial women’s “morality schools” appearing in recent years, which teach women to obey their husbands.

[kerryrhp-blog]

INTRODUCTION TO BUSINESS COMMUNICATIONS BSPB104

Week 1 Introduction to business communications as a subject, by itself, could be a challenge. The sense of self-awareness on my behalf, facing what I personally feel, is one of my weakness. Writing at academic levels could be an issue, but a nice challenge to take on if to grow a new personal skill refers to. According to Dwyer (2016, p. 2), ‘successful people are communication-oriented in both professional and personal contexts’; and who wouldn’t like to be successful? What would require?... time management and mindset will be academic skills to acquire, exercising my critical and creative thinking. Be able to listen, learn and apply at this stage of my life feels stimulating.  Seen from another perspective, to prevent surprises along the way and develop as much as possible these skills, new study habits should be in place. And I am aware that if my “communication skills” problem isn’t subsided by the time I have a career in sport, it can have consequences in my professional performance; especially if I am working with people or even worst-case scenario would be if I work for Media. This search for a new pathway in life will threat my comfort zone to the maximum, but the personal reward could still be my best pride.   Dwyer, J 2016, The business communication handbook, 10th edn, Cengage Learning Australia, South Melbourne, VIC. Week 3

Criticism is not only constructive but the backbone for personal improvements. And for us, as students, receiving feedback is the single most influential factor that shapes both their personal and professional growth (Miller, Sawatzky & Chernomas 2018, p. 465). I have done an oral presentation as part of an assessment, which unveils further weakness in my communication skills. But information if not properly analyze, does not prosper. Then, observing back, I can assume that matching my communication ideas with my emotions as a storyteller, enhance the understanding of an audience. According to Dwyer (2016, p. 2), ‘communication is any behavior– verbal or non-verbal that is perceived by another’. I felt that from the moment I was standing in front of the audience by myself (as I was the only person with no group assigned) my presentation started. The situation forced me to show myself as calm as I could possibly be. I believe, my nonverbal gestures and presence settled a silence during the presentation that remained until the end. The general feedback and perception by the audience were mostly positive, but I think predisposed with kindness, by the fact of been doing the presentation without the support of a team or group. Still the consistent ‘group feedback’ leads to assuming, that the balance between the information presented and personal point of view, was seemed as very constructive and engaging. An understanding of my grammatical English limitations deserves attention; but the motivation received by a third person (Lecturer), and the unconditional side of my presentation as a ‘’fan’’, helped to deliver an ‘interesting’ presentation, with much ‘’room’’ for improvements.

Dwyer, J 2016, The business communication handbook, 10th edn,  Cengage Learning Australia, South Melbourne, VIC. Miller, Sawatzky & Chernomas 2018, ‘Clinical faculty development initiative: Providing student feedback’, Journal of Professional Nursing, vol. 34, no.6, pp. 463–469.

Week 5 Generally, motivation has been at high levels. I enjoy every subject and can’t stop daydreaming in how to apply the knowledge in real life experiences. The support from teachers is essential to feel comfortable to ask for help or support when it needs it. The quality of my work still does not meet my expectations. But the support from the people that surround me, keeps me looking forward to my objective, and only forward. It may sound simple, but one of the valuable lessons I’m learning in the modern era we live in, is that allows me or any person, to access all kind services and information. Not less important, from where to get this information, as finding the right resource have been the highlight of my learnings. Time management continues to be the factor to improve, as still is very difficult to adjust my work hours and divide them with studies. Early mornings hours of study have been changed to night-time, as I find the silence of my environment helping me to concentrate better. Maybe in the long term won’t work, as some of the times, the daily activities leave me too tired to focus as I should (at that time of the night).    

Week 7 The privilege of receiving feedback, precisely from each essay or assessment correction from lectures, through the online documents, give us as students, the knowledge of exactly (‘view inline feedback’) which aspects we can improve. But, ‘’feedback must be processed deeply and be accepted in order to have an effect on performance’’ (Crommelinck & Anseel, 2013 p. 237). I will add to the quote, that the feedback will be more accurate if retrieve from a knowledgeable source or successful story, experience or person. Usually, I reinforce the idea that ‘’I’m right’’ until proof contrary, but looking back in my life, the times I build up ‘’a skill’’ the most, was when consistently received and accommodate constructive feedback or training into my task or job; even that sometimes I struggle to differentiate my opinion with what’s ‘’politically’’ correct. Overall, the results of some of the assessments and assignments have been optimum, especially the assessments in a group for Sport in Australia subject, where some of the times I felt it didn’t represent the effort I was making to get as high marks as possible (within my capabilities). But reflecting in one of the Lecturer comments in class, she said, this experiences in the group, will in the future, represent an example of a future job environment, where working in the group for an objective, will be part of the daily routines. Makes me aware for next time, that the need for a better understanding of how delegating roles/responsibilities, will improve the communications for a common objective and better result.    

Crommelinck, M. & Anseel, F., 2013, ‘Understanding and encouraging feedback-seeking behaviour: a literature review’, Medical education, vol. 47, no.3, pp.232–41.  Holmesglen, 2019, Brightspace, viewed 25 May 2019, https://holmesglen.brightspace.com/d2l/le/userprogress/510135/231035/Summary?searchString=&sortField=LastName&sortDirection=0 Week 9 Applying protocols and conventions of academic writing to support my assessments continues to be a skill in progress. Writing introductions and conclusions imitating an academic document will for sure be appreciated by an employer in the future. Referencing and citing may look simple at first, but the potential to know how to use it properly could lead me in the future to publish legally and with academic integrity for a club or company.  Developing editing and proofreading skills are a must to keep training my English limitations. I recently applied for a Football course and my application was sent late for the due day of the registration. In my opinion, the professionalism of how I contacted the person in charge, was key to an optimum result in the end. The communication skills developed as writing, language, and vocabulary influenced an appropriate level of the interaction. But in general, the feeling that what I’m writing is more credible and professional feels remarkable. Be clearer in my communication skills, gives me a feeling of satisfaction and accurate improvement.    

Dwyer, J 2016, The business communication handbook, 10th edn,  Cengage Learning Australia, South Melbourne, VIC. Week 11 Auto-reflection skills, referring to improve studies habits are showing good progress, although, not as much as I would desire. The essays results are acceptable, but not the standard I expected. Missing on easy points as referencing correctly makes me upset. Or not refer to the task instructed by the guidelines of an essay to make sure I’m on the right track, more than once by now, cost me valuable time to re-write, leaving not enough time to edit or proofread. A learning curve that takes perseverance, patience and time management. However, I do have to mention the feeling of relief once a task is completed and submitted. In an instant, with the click of a button, hours of work are on the way to be evaluated. The highlight and reward to so many dedicated hours must be that the Lecturer from Business Communications, who awarded me of the visible improvements in the way I wrote assessments at the beginning of the year, compared to the last one submitted. Managing assessments, essays, and reports require a discipline that I'm still learning to structure. Week 13 With completing the first semester of the Bachelor of Sport Business, I was able to benefit from a variety of new knowledge from the classmates and lecturers and books, as well as refresh my memory on things that I already knew, but now feel that I wasn’t applying them as it should. The biggest hurdle in the course for me was balancing time between my personal work life and studies, so completing assignments on time was and still is a challenge for me. I have not come to a full solution to this problem yet, but I did make changes in my life as to how I can manage time differently for next semester, including re-assigning work hours only to weekends. I found that it was easier for me to focus at night-time, but with a strictly responsible attitude to accurate manage time before I get too exhausted. With hurdles came hidden strengths I discovered about myself. I’ve never thought of myself as a charismatic person, but in more than one occasion, I found that I could do a better use of my personality, combined with the knowledge, sounds like a recipe I want to emulate. If I have the opportunity in the future, I feel I will communicate my ideas to the group/audience in a cleaner method, or in group work, try to balance the ideas of others so the group can come to an agreement upon the decision and divert task and responsibilities to avoid miscommunication. The sense of purpose motivated me to force my best every time, even if it wasn’t up to the levels required. The learning strategies, online services (StudioCity as an example), the library (Holmesglen) staff advocating time to asses my needs and questions have been another motivator to aim for the best of my capabilities. The cooperation with other students added always a different perspective to my view. All of these behaviors made massive progress in this first semester. Endorsing many of these actions will help to structure my academic behavior, for the second part of the year. Image reference: Lamb, S, Maire, Q & Doecke, E 2017, Key skills for the 21st Century: an evidence-based review, viewed 15 May 2019, http://education.nsw.gov.au/our-priorities/innovate-for-the-future/education-for-changing-world/research-findings

[prorevenge]

Screw with my grade? Have fun dealing with an investigation from the dean's office.

Buckle in, because this is a long read, but the end is worth it.

Last semester I took an online only ECON-101 class to fulfill one of the requirements of my associates degree. I chose economics because it sounded more interesting than the other options - big mistake. This teacher, let's call him Professor Y., does absolutely no teaching online, takes forever to answer questions, and doesn't really seem to care about actually helping us learn. There was a website, called MyEconLab, which is where homework, quizzes, and tests were taken. Other than that, there were also weekly discussion boards to engage with our peers.

Now I'm not going to lie, I didn't deserve an A for this class, or even a B. I missed some assignments and didn't do so well on others. However, I thought that I earned a C. I got sick in the middle of the semester and missed some assignments, which was totally my fault. I noticed that I was now in danger of getting a D for the class, which wouldn't be good at all. I looked at the syllabus, which was littered with typos and was generally very confusing. I found a passage that says that the final was worth 100 points, and at this point in the class we only had 255 total. It seemed to be worth a big chunk of points. There was also a term paper assigned, which was also worth 100 points.

I focused more on the final than I did the term paper, because I'm better at multiple choice than I am papers. I received an 83% on the final, and I was satisfied that I would scrape by with a C.

The class ended on December 15th, and the final was not added to my gradebook. I thought that it was a little weird, but I didn't think anything of it. The professor had been taking a long time all semester to grade assignments. I checked every couple of days to see what my final grade was, and on January 10th, I was assigned a D. I checked my gradebook and saw that I got a 67% on the term paper, which is around what I expected. However, my final was nowhere to be found. In addition, the only assignment that referenced the MyEconLab website had not been updated since November 6th. Remember, the class ended on December 15th, so there was almost a month of assignments that weren't counting towards my grade.

Thinking that there must be some mistake, I sent my professor an email.

Hello Professor,

I checked my grade on webadvisor and it says that I have a D. I logged into blackboard and it says I have a 67%, but that doesn't appear to be taking into account the grade I received for my final exam, as well as some of the other MyEconLab assignments.

In addition, I'm having a hard time understanding your grading rubric, so any clarifications you can offer there would be most appreciated.

Thank you,

Ceryliae

I did not hear back from my professor for 48 hours. At this point, I called the Dean that oversaw Humanities, Arts & Social Sciences. I explained my situation to her, and she said that she would call my professor, and that there was a chance that it was just a mistake. The next day I received an email back from my professor

HELLO STUDENT, HERE IS A SUMMARY OF YOUR GRADE TO DATE. IT LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED (2) CRITICAL DISCUSSION BOARDS WHICH AFFECTED YOUR GRADE SIGNIFICANTLY. PLEASE REVIEW THE COMMENTS I MADE IN BLACKBOARD REGARDING YOUR TERM PROJECT. IF NEEDED WE CAN MEET TO DISCUSS YOUR GRADE FURTHER.

Yes, it was really in all caps. Below that my professor had included my gradebook, which I already saw. That was the whole reason I was getting in touch with him. My professor didn't actually answer any of my questions. So I wrote him back.

Hello Professor, I appreciate your reply, however this doesn't answer my questions. Where is my final? What about my MyEconLab assignments from the last couple weeks of class?

Ceryliae

He replied

Ceyliae (he misspelled my name), please watch your tone. Your final is located in myeconlab, as mentioned in the syllabus if you reviewed it here is a breakdown of how the grades are calculated. Course Assignments and point distribution approximations:

(3) Chapter Mid-Term Exams (MyEcon lab) = 45 %

(1) Final Exam (MyEcon lab) = 25%

(16) Chapter Quizzes (MyEcon lab = 15%

(1) Term Project (Written) = 100 (points)

(10) Chapter H/W/Video Assn. MyEcon lab = + 15%

(6) Chapter Discussion Forums = 120 (points)

Total Points 100% weighted (plus 220 points)

Underneath that, he included the gradebook from MyEconLab. Which I already had. The grade breakdown that he included in this email was already located in the syllabus, which I read. I'm not sure about you guys, but this is very confusing to read and its actually impossible to calculate your grade from this. Once again, he failed to answer my questions. Not only that, he also asked me to watch my tone? I've been nothing but respectful. Also, he implied that I haven't read his dumpster fire of a syllabus, which I have.

My reply to him was

Professor,

I apologize if I come off as rude, it's not my intention. I'm just very confused. The only assignment on blackboard that is labeled as MyEconLab says that it is for weeks 1 through 11, and was last updated on November 6th. How does that include my final exam grade, which was taken on December 15th. Additionally, how can something that was updated on November 6th include all of my assignments for November 7th through the end of the semester?

Also, I did read the syllabus, and I spent quite a while trying to work out how the point distribution is calculated. I wasn't able to figure it out, which is why I asked for some clarification. I'm sorry if asking for clarification came off as being disrespectful.

I wait four days without a reply, and then I called the Dean again. I told her that I didn't feel like this was a mistake, and that I didn't think this was going to be resolved between the professor and me. She told me she would look into it further, and that she's been following our email conversation, but she didn't have my last email to him, which I forwarded in her direction.

Shortly after my phone call with the dean, my professor emailed me back.

Ok, 1st the points in MyEcon Lab are calculated within the My econ lab system based on the weighted point allotment for the particular assignment. This is why I sent you a copy of the syllabus which expresses all assignments in Myecon lab as a weighted %. Hence, the 92% for example on the final, is weighted with all other exam grades, which represented 70% of the Myecon grade.

Secondly, the Big reason, respectfully, your grade was lower than anticipated was based on the (2) discussion boards you missed in my opinion, with those 2 scores you would have been above a 70%.

All I can say is, we can sit down in Spring 2018, during office hours, and I can explain the grading criteria, as I have designed it based on student work within Myecon lab and Blackboard.

You did miss (2) discussion Board Correct? I just ask this to make sure this point clarification is correct.

Again, email me after February 12th, 2018 when I return from Winter Break and we can over your grade scores again.

Thanks Sincerely;

Professor Y.

So now finally I've gotten an answer on one of my questions. He says that he is calculating my grade by reducing all of the assignments that were done on MyEconLab down to a 100 point assignment based on the weighted percentages in the syllabus. This is ridiculous because there are 355 points in total for the class, so reducing all that work down to 100 points means it's all worth very little. The final ended up being only worth 7% of my grade. I replied back to him:

Professor Y.,

I appreciate your efforts to clarify your grading policy, however I am even more confused than before. If I'm understanding you correctly, it sounds like you're saying that every single assignment for MyEconLab is weighted according to the percentages on page three of your syllabus. Then those points are counted as part of the "MyEconLab (Weeks 1-11)" assignment, which is worth one hundred points.

This contradicts what your syllabus says on page five:

"Exams: there will be 4 exams over the course of the semester, (3) Midterm and (1) Final. These exams are a combination of multiple choice, matching, ordering, and essays. Each Exam is worth 100 points, and the exams are each worth 45% of your overall grade.

Research Paper: you will submit an 8-10 page research paper on a topic approved by the instructor. A separate handout will be distributed to students with details on formatting this assignment. The research paper is worth 20% of your overall grade and is 100 points. Document Requirements Page Located in Blackboard (Term Project Requirements)." (Emphasis mine)

This seems to contradict what you've stated about the final and midterm exams only being included in the MyEconLab assignment on blackboard. Towards the end of the semester, after I missed the two discussion boards, I realized that I might end up with a D in your class. I consulted your syllabus to see what points were remaining, and found the passages from page five that I quoted above. It seemed to me that the final exam was worth quite a big chunk of points, and I was relying on that to bolster my grade. At the end of last semester I was incredibly busy with other classes, performances, work, and illnesses. I believe you are aware of my illnesses, because you denied my request for an extension on the term paper. For these reasons, I had a limited amount of time to devote to studying. If I had known that in reality, the final was only worth 7% of my overall grade, I would have budgeted my time differently. Instead of studying so much for the final, I would have put more time into my term paper, which seemed to be worth less points.

You keep asking me to reference your syllabus, and in a previous email, you stated that if I had read your syllabus, I would not have questions about my grade. However, your syllabus seems to contradict itself in several places. I saw the quoted passage on page five, and assumed that it was correct. Was I incorrect to rely on your syllabus to guide me in how to approach your class?

Furthermore, I have asked a direct question in three separate emails, and I have not received a direct answer:

There are several assignments which were turned in after November 6th at 2:34 PM, this includes three chapter quizzes as well as my final exam. How are these assignments included in my overall grade, if the MyEconLab assignment was last updated on November 6th at 2:34 PM?

I would appreciate an answer, because it doesn't feel fair to me to receive a grade without all of my work being included in my grade. MyEconLab says that I spent over 4 hours working on assignments that were turned in after November 6th at 2:34 PM. Was that all for nothing?

I am sorry to keep bothering you during the winter break, however this is a time sensitive matter for me, as I receive a hefty discount on my car insurance for maintaining a 3.0 GPA. For that reason, I would like to resolve this as soon as possible.

Please be aware that I have CC'd the dean to this conversation.

Thank you very much, Ceryliae

The professor emailed me back the next day:

Well, I will address these issues within the next 4 weeks with you when we Meet. Again, did you miss (2) discussion Boards?

I am aware you have spoken with my Dean, and Chairman, however, this does not change my position or your grade until further review.

I will be back in the office starting February 13th, 2018 and we can revisit these issues 1 by 1.

Please just reply back for my records if you missed (2) Discussion boards or you can defer until we meet and I will use what I have in blackboard as my answer.

Please, no more emails until we meet, to keep perceptions and frustrations to a minimum.

Thanks.

So not only is he refusing to answer my questions, he also asked me a question about the discussion boards I missed, which I actually answered in the previous email. That means he didn't really read my assignment. Additionally, I can't really afford to wait 4 weeks to resolve this situation as my car insurance will literally go up hundreds of dollars.

I email him back:

Professor Y.,

I am disappointed that you are unwilling to answer my simple questions about my grade at this time, because this situation is very time sensitive for me.

As I stated in my previous email, yes, I did miss those two discussion boards.

I appreciate your offer to meet with me once the spring semester begins, however I don't think it is in my best interest to meet with you alone. I am uncomfortable meeting with you without the dean in attendance.

Thank you, Ceryliae

The next day I hear back from him with this short email:

Grade was changed to a C.

Best Success.

So now I've gotten what I was trying to get a week earlier. However, I'm not satisfied. So I call the dean and tell her that since I've been given the C I'm dropping the matter. However, I still think that Professor Y. should be investigated for how he grades assignments, as well as the confusing nature of his syllabus. She tells me that she is already investigating, and then asks me to put all this in an email to her so that she has a written account. She also tells me that she was calculating my grade and she thought I earned a C. She also didn't think that I had any issues with my tone, and said that I was nothing but respectful.

Here is that email:

Hello Dr. E.,

Professor Y. informed me that he was changing my grade to a C. For this reason, I would like to put this matter to rest. However, there are still some lingering concerns that I feel should be addressed going forward.

It still appears to me that not all of my assignments were calculated into my grade, due to the MyEconLab assignment on blackboard last being updated on November 6th, and the class ending on December 15th.

The syllabus has many inconsistencies as well as flat out missing quite a bit of information. Page three has the grading breakdown and mixes points and percentages, which makes it very confusing. Furthermore, the grading breakdown is contrary to what it stated on page 5:

"Exams: there will be 4 exams over the course of the semester, (3) Midterm and (1) Final. These exams are a combination of multiple choice, matching, ordering, and essays. Each Exam is worth 100 points, and the exams are each worth 45% of your overall grade.

Research Paper: you will submit an 8-10 page research paper on a topic approved by the instructor. A separate handout will be distributed to students with details on formatting this assignment. The research paper is worth 20% of your overall grade and is 100 points. Document Requirements Page Located in Blackboard (Term Project Requirements)."

Along the same lines, there are typos littered throughout the syllabus, including stating that the four exams are each worth 45% of your overall grade, which adds up to 180%. If the Syllabus for Econ-101 is confusing, there is a good chance that his other classes are equally confusing. How many students have not had the confidence to come forward after they were misled or confused by Professor Y's syllabus? I have attached all three revisions of Professor Y's syllabus to this email.

You have been exceedingly helpful with this matter, and I appreciate all the help you've given me.

Thank you,

Ceryliae

So now the professor is under investigation for how he grades assignments as well as his syllabuses. None of this would have happened if he had assigned me the grade I earned.

TL;DR Professor screws me over with my grade. I get the dean involved and my grade is changed to a C. Not satisfied, I also get him investigated by the dean's office.

(source) (story by Ceryliae)

[fearofyoongi-blog]

I Bloom For You | Minjoon

pt. 4

tags: college au, clique au, minjoon angst, mentions of taejin, sugakookie, fuck boy!jin

main character: kim namjoon

word count: 4210

read series here! 

ALSO! If you’re following this series, please inbox me (anon or not!) and tell me which part you would like for me to work on next! 

Taejin (Taehyung’s perspective)

Minjoon (Jimin’s perspective)

Sugakookie (Yoongi’s perspective/JK’s perspective)

The morning casts through Namjoon’s window without apology. It was the worst way to wake up, he would say. Blindly the upperclassman stretched his palm towards the sun as he releases the loudest yawn of his life. His vision is the second sense to arrive to him. Sleep deprived and exhausted from the night before, he peeks one eye after the other. Luckily, he’s in his own room. His friends didn’t prank him, and he wasn’t waking up to a stranger in his bed.

Despite his exhaustion, it wasn’t because of stupidity. For once. Namjoon spent the entire night on the phone with Jimin, an underclassman he’s been pursuing for a couple of weeks now, pretending he didn’t know how to complete his Discrete Math assignment. They were on the phone for nearly three hours when Hoseok knocked on Namjoon’s door and told him to quiet down. Joon would’ve did it, but Jimin insisted it was late and he should go to bed.

He would’ve fought him, but Jimin cares about his schooling. Well, Namjoon does too, but certainly not as much as the other.

Namjoon scraped by on charms and natural intelligence. The guy picked up on more than he let on. Exchanging a good attendance record for free time, late or partial credit over the A’s he could be receiving. Freedom was important to him. Well, he had a lot of free time, and he wished he could spend it getting to know Jimin, but that was proven harder than expected. Namjoon had a feeling that Jimin liked being chased. For the last week in particular, the two have been non-stop texting and calling. At first, this was not intentional. Jimin is genuinely a busy student. With five classes this semester, Student Government Association, Namjoon respected that Jimin barely has time to squeeze in an episode of his favorite anime let alone a relationship.

And perhaps Jimin could sense the effect it was having on Joon. Each event for SGA that Jimin participates in, Namjoon lurked the crowd. Waving, smiling, pointing at his phone to get Jimin to check his own. It was endearing. A little odd, but endearing.

Today was no different than any other day. Namjoon woke and flooded Jimin’s phone with text messages. Nothing too obnoxious, or clingy. Joon simply determined today would be the day they would get to hang out face-to-face. They really haven’t since they had sex in the library’s bathroom.

NAMJOON: You have a free hour today, don’t you?

JIMIN: Maybe

NAMJOON: Can I see you today then?

Additionally, Jimin somehow learns not to answer quickly. Namjoon is surprised by how fast he was learning the whole process of cat-and-mouse. He doesn’t take the space between messages to heart anymore. Assuming the underclassman is working on his morning routine, Namjoon finishes up that last-minute homework assignment for Discrete Math before he ever hears back from Jimin.

He’s walking to the bathroom that is shared in the apartment. Scratching his stomach under his shirt and stretching once more as he reaches the toilet. Just before he goes to pee, he shoots Jimin another text.

NAMJOON: I could grab you coffee? I’m skipping my classes today.

JIMIN: Skipping class again? Seriously?

He knows how it sounds. He knows that Jimin thinks it’s ridiculous to skip as much as he does, but this was Joon’s second-to-last semester at this college. Perfect attendance was the last thing on his mind.

NAMJOON: I’ll come to school and go to my classes if you agree to let me buy you coffee. And see you.

Joon smirks to himself. This was thin ice he enjoyed skating on. There was something thrilling about coming up with various excuses for absences. Most of his professors are understanding, and others don’t seem to mind since he is a friendly guy with a lovable personality.

He is smart enough to get him out of any failing situation anyway.

It’s a trait he picked up early on during his sophomore year. Most instructors had these five-free-absences rule and Namjoon did one helluva job planning his academic career around those free passes. By no means was he dumb. Not one bit. There were some instances where the instructors didn’t help him which resulted in failing grades, but there were always other semesters. Namjoon became an expert at combining an understanding the material, never sitting in an unnecessary lecture, and schmoozing the instructor. It was the perfect recipe to a successful college life.

NAMJOON: Your buddy Jungkook provided some useful information about your likes and hobbies.

Namjoon saw Yoongi and Jungkook yesterday when he was at Yoongi’s apartment. They ate sushi and played Spades and talked about Jimin. To be honest, most of the reason that Joon was there had to do with gaining intel on Jimin.

A soft chuckle escapes him. He can see the typing bubble disappear and reappear multiple times within the chat. Well, at least this got under Jimin’s skin. He wants to press him about what Jungkook said, but decides against it. Instead his attention is grabbed by other messages pouring in.

JIMIN: I’ll see how I feel later. I just woke up.

NAMJOON: I won’t take no for an answer today.

He sends the message off before going back to his main conversation page of his phone and sees his group chat with Hoseok, Jin, and Yoongi.

YOOGNI: Hyung… Where are you right now?

JIN: With a friend ;)

Namjoon tilts his head.

After that response, Joon resorts to not getting involved. His phone chimes and it’s Jimin again.

JIMIN: I didn’t give you an answer.

Namjoon laughs quietly to himself. Again, Jimin has to find this fun. Namjoon himself finds this to be a challenge he quite enjoys. Namjoon merely assumes that no one has ever paid Jimin this much attention in awhile. Sue him for embracing it.

Shoving his phone in his pocket, he continues with his morning routine. Coffee, bagel sandwich, study packet review for his Economics class, and he stuffs his pockets with a wallet, headphones, and his cellphone.

As he walks to the park, his phone is non-stop buzzing. Literally. Non-stop. Jimin isn’t usually this pushy, so he brushes it off as the guy being cute and reaches into his pocket to silence the phone. He doesn’t have the energy or time to think about anything other than what he should do for the day.

And Namjoon’s day went as followed:

He visited his favorite park and studied Economics notes from his phone.

He reviewed an essay due in Positive Psychology Honors, which Joon is certain he wrote well.

He walked the downtown area until he noticed an anime festival happening in the center of a park. Jimin would like this. He needs to see this. So he caves. Despite never having checked his phone, he heads back to his part of the grid city.

Then he has a lunch break… without his group of friends? That surprised him. He was sure they would all meet at their favorite cafe, but when no one showed up he took his sandwich and ate it on the way back to school. Maybe they were all waiting for him there.

For the first time since this morning, Joon checks his phone and realizes that he made a grave mistake in not checking it sooner.

The messages that caused his phone to buzz were not from Jimin at all. If anything, Jimin never responded to him again.

He stops walking to scroll through the twenty messages Yoongi and Jin exchanged, but only took out the small pieces of information necessary to understand what was going on.

YOONGI: You’re with Taehyung, aren’t you?

YOONGI: Hyung… Are you out of your mind?

YOONGI: Joonie, say something!

JIN: Is that why you sent this here? So Joon will intervene? What’s he gonna say?

JIN: Tae is fun ;) I need that. He’s a big boy.

YOONGI: Why him? That’s Hoseok’s friend!

JIN: Not anymore.

“Oh shit…” Namjoon hisses to himself, glancing around before sprinting across the large courtyard of the college. He runs up to the library and up the stairs.

The library was the largest building on campus. It contained two levels, the bottom one being the quietest place in the entire school. Joon rarely uses that floor. The back end of the first floor was lined with study rooms, and oftentimes he would rent one for the sake of spending more time with a classmate than necessary. These days, he’ll go in to the room the Student Government Association uses just to wave at Jimin. Again, Namjoon believes the boy likes this attention.

Moreover, the top floor of the library is much more casual. Anyone could go to use the computers, grab books, and hang out between classes.

Faulty bean bags lined the outside where the windows were, as well as round tables with plastic chairs. The walls are painted burgundy red, similar to the school’s logo. And every piece of furniture is either painted gold or some sort of faux gold that turned green over the years. The center contained hip level bookshelves that were, truthfully, falling apart. The twenty computers in the library were old and dated. If an IT degree-seeking student needed a computer for their courses, these would be the last they could ever use.

Hence why Jimin and SGA are trying to make this part of the library more appealing and updated.

As Namjoon enters, his pace slows to a halt and he searches the entire vicinity. Thankful for the short bookshelves and open space only in this moment. When his eyes finally land on a familiar faces, his brows knit together and he approaches with loud stomps.

The first thing he notices straight away are the people missing. Hoseok and Yoongi.

Namjoon spots Jimin and Taehyung off in a corner, talking aggressively to each other.

When Taehyung first started talking to Hoseok, he would hang around the group casually and use Jungkook’s relationship with Yoongi as a reason to hang around. It was fun to have Tae around, and Jin never bothered him before. Why the sudden interest? It confused Joon.

Yoongi has his eyes in his phone, Joon assumes he is texting, while Jin has lovey dovey eyes over something Tae is saying behind him.

“Hyung,” Joon clears his throat to get their attention, specifically Jin. “What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the cafe?”

Jin shrugs nonchalantly. “After that whole mess with Jungkook this morning, I didn’t feel like it. Plus, I got brunch with Taehyung after my second class. I’m stuffed.” He’s almost condescending about it, and he grins at Yoongi for assurance.

Yoongi doesn’t give it to him though. Namjoon notices that Yoongi is barely making eye contact.

As Joon is about to speak, Yoongi interjects. “Where were you this morning, Joon? I needed you. A lot of shit went down!” Namjoon takes his lip between his teeth and shrugs at the older male. Without replying, Yoongi bounces out of his seat and collects his things and leaves. No one seems affected, but Joon worries about why Yoongi is so concerned.

“He got into an argument this morning with Jungkook,” Jin answers, obviously reading the look on Jimin’s face. Namjoon observes how Jimin is listening in, but also listening to Taehyung. “I think Jungkook’s having a bad day.”

“Yeah well, gathering what I’m looking at, no one is happy right now…” Namjoon peers up. Jimin and Taehyung are still talking. So, he looks back to Jin. “What’s going on, hyung?”

Taehyung looks at Jin then back at Jimin, then at Jin again.

Namjoon shakes his head. “Okay… Did I miss something?” He sits down in front of Jin with his arms on the table. “What happened to Hobi? Why did Yoongi leave? Why is Taehyung looking at you like a puppy waiting for his master to give him a treat?”

Jin shrugs again, and Joon is about to hit him. Really, hit him. “Hoseok lied to everyone. He has a girlfriend, you know. Never even told me. I found out because Taehyung told me.”

“And? So what? That still doesn’t explain why you’re here with Tae!” Namjoon scowls with flailing arms.

“We just… connected. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. The other day I saw the poor kid sitting in the courtyard and approached him. He told me about Hobi and his girlfriend, and when I told him that we can hang out, he was excited. He isn’t talking to Hoseok because he’s a liar. So… We bonded.”

Namjoon cocks his head. “Bonded? Bonded over what, hyung?”

“A lot of things!” But Jin only wiggles his brows.

Joon grits his teeth, shaking his head. “How did Jungkook find out about you guys then? Why was Yoongi asking about you this morning?”

Jin falls silent for a moment, but his smile grows uncomfortably. But Joon only gives him an epic death glare until he caves. “He slept over our apartment. I didn’t know. Taehyung was there too. So they woke up and saw each other and Taehyung kinda ran.”

“Ran where?”

“Back to my room.” Jin’s toothy and smiling way too wide. Namjoon really wants to knock his teeth in. “You should see him in the morning, Joon-ie. The boy is beautiful.”

Then, it hits him. It hits him why Yoongi asks about him, why Jin said he was with a friend, and why Jimin has Taehyung cornered right now. His eyes flicker between Jimin, Tae, and back to Jin. He releases a sigh. “You’re… Hyung… You’re not…”

But his friend goes quiet again. His smile, his facial expression, the condescending glance he shoots at Jimin speaks volumes though.

“You slept with Taehyung!?” He says it too loudly and captures Jimin’s attention. His eyes land on the blonde boy, but glance back at Jin as he starts laughing again. “This isn’t funny, Jin! You slept with him? Seriously? What the hell is wrong with you!? Who are you?”

In all their years of knowing each other, Namjoon never thought he would ask that question. To Jin, of all people. This was truly shocking. Once upon a time, they sat together in their dorms and talked about… everything. He remembers the night they all came out to one another. When Yoongi finished talking about how hard he fell in love with Jungkook, Jin confessed to being pansexual, and Namjoon said he was gay.

It was a meaningful moment for the boys to share this. Namjoon and Jin agreed that they wanted what Yoongi had. Even if only a taste. What Yoongi had with Jungkook seemed real, it was solid, stable. Something neither truly had in friendships or relationships. Jin is so picky, so conservative, the idea of sleeping with someone he didn’t know well terrified him.

But something in Jin changed. Sometime between Sophomore and Junior year, he changed. He was no longer a shoe-gazing college student with an interest in education or love. No, something happened that caused Jin to become reckless and unattainable.

His parents divorced, his dad moves to the United States, and his mom becomes a drunk.

Namjoon tries to imagine Jin as someone he doesn’t know well. He tries to imagine Jin as a guy with a soft spot, with weaknesses, with some kind of Achilles’ heel that could make Taehyung believe he was different. But he can’t.

These days, Kim Seokjin has a reputation that most people do not choose to associate with. Not voluntarily. Yes, he has loyal, stable friendships with Yoongi, Namjoon and Hoseok, even they had their frustrations. Yoongi has shared one too many stories about Jin manipulating him into writing essays, Hoseok mentions discounts at his store, and Joon and Jin stopped seeing eye-to-eye a long time ago.

Kim Seokjin does not treat people nicely. Not unless he needs something from them. Not unless he can take something from them.

What could he possibly gain from being with Taehyung though? As far as Joon knows, they have nothing in common.

As Namjoon watches Jimin and Taehyung, he huffs. Tae is storming away, and Jimin is starting to shout behind him. “Don’t you remember the things he told me last week? How I was bet to them? All of that was untrue and he said those things to get under my skin!” Jimin pleas for his friend to see the truth. “He’ll hurt you-- You’ll regret this!”

As Taehyung walks out, Jimin attempts to follow, but Joon stands up and grabs the younger by his forearm. “Stop. Jimin. Stop. Let him go…” He just wants to cut in, to alleviate the tension.

In the short weeks that they’ve built a bond, Namjoon wants to believe that Jimin could trust him. He’s done nothing to prove otherwise. When Jimin needed help with a conflict in SGA, he texted Joon the entire afternoon about it. When Taehyung found out about Hoseok’s girlfriend, Jimin was there, but Namjoon texted Jimin the whole night as a means to stay awake. Yes, their friendship is short-lived, but Namjoon trusts this bond enough and hopes that Jimin would listen to him right now.

He wants Jimin to understand, to calm down, but it backfires as Jimin shoves him away and shakes his head.

“You! You lied to me! You lied straight to my face!” Jimin takes his frustrations out on Joon without thinking twice. “I asked you if he was safe from Hobi and you said yes! You said he would be alright and now look! Look where he’s gone,” He glares back at Jin, who is still ironically grinning from ear-to-ear. Namjoon could kill him. “He’s sunken so low he actually cares about that monster.”

It was enough to cause Jin’s grin to fade. It softens to a frown but Jimin doesn’t look long enough to notice. However, Namjoon mirrors the reaction. He is saddened by his friend’s disappointment, but he doesn’t address it. Not right now. “Jimin, listen-- I’m sorry this happened-- I’m sorry but--”

“But what? You think stopping me from running after Tae is gonna-- is gonna what? Get you laid? You’re not hero in this scenario, Joon. You’re not as high and mighty as you believe. You’re just as bad, if not worse, than the rest of them. You let them believe Hoseok is a bad guy for keeping his relationship from you. You stand by Jin even after Yoongi leaves. Even after you know Jin upset him! There is nothing but toxicity surrounding your friend group. Honestly, Yoongi is your redeeming quality. Isn’t that pathetic? One man, that isn’t even you, he’s your saving grace.” Jimin shoves Joon again. “Do me a favor…” He glares at Jin quickly and then back to Joon. “Both of you… Leave me, and my friends, alone.” He says through his teeth, looking between the upperclassmen once more before storming off.

Namjoon’s eyes follow Jimin as the boy darts out of the library, but his ears catch the cackle that escapes Jin without falter. He turns slowly to face the older guy, feeling disbelief at his reaction. “What’s funny, hyung? What’s so funny right now?” He turns fully to Jin and places his palms on the table. Jin doesn’t answer. Not right away. The guy shakes his head and peers up at Joon, but he doesn’t answer fast enough.

“This is hilarious to you, isn’t it? Watching everyone fall apart under your thumb? This is pure entertainment, huh?” Namjoon asks rhetorically through gritted teeth.

“Relax…” Jin sighs. “Your boyfriend is fine, his friends are fine. They’ll live. You’ll all get over it—“

“Over what, hyung? Hm? You? Your chaotic ways?”

“Ah fuck, not you too, Joon--”

“--Yoongi is pissed at me because of you! Jimin is arguing with his best friend, because of you! And you pitted everyone against Hoseok! You are a puppet master, so you think it’s all going to be fine?”

“I didn’t pit anyone against Hobi!” Jin stands impatiently, leaning on the table and challenging Namjoon’s glare. “He lied to me! He lied to all of us, but that’s fine by you, isn’t it? He told you the truth so everything should just keep going the way it was?” For once, Namjoon doesn’t look away. He doesn’t let Jin win. It’s surprising him. “Yeah, you thought Yoongi wouldn’t tell me. Of course he’s pissed at you. You lied to him too, you know. And Jimin and his friends are not my problem.” Jin glances away as if the conversation is over, as if he won.

Namjoon doesn’t let him win that easily. “—Yoongi cares about Jungkook—“

“Oh, spare me, Joon!��

“—I care about Jimin!”

“That’s not my problem!”

“Hoseok cares about Taehyung!”

“So do I!”

Just like that. There’s silence in the library again. The two friends stand up straight, refusing to look away from each other. But they know that other eyes are on them.

The only thing on Namjoon’s mind is Jin’s confessions. He scoffs in disgust, in disbelief of his friend’s selfishness. “You don’t care about Taehyung. You don’t care about him, your friends, anyone. You only care about what’s convenient for you, what piques your interest. You don’t—“

“Excuse me? Fellas?” Namjoon is interrupted by a short black-haired woman. It’s the librarian’s assistant. She’s mousy but assertive, standing between Jin and Namjoon at the front of the table. “Everything okay over here? Because if this continues, I’ll have to call campus security.”

“Don’t bother,” Jin smiles and shoots her a charming wink. “My friend was just leaving.”

When Jin turns back to look at Namjoon, Joon is already scoffs and shakes his head. “Yeah. Right.” He says, fixing his jaw. As he turns to walk away, he thinks for a moment and chuckles lightly. When he thinks some more, he returns to Jin swiftly. “You know what, you better listen to Jimin. Leave him and his friends alone. And while you’re at it, leave me alone too. Don’t come to me for anything. We’re done. I’m not going to keep letting you ruin my friendships. Stay away from me.”

“Or what?” Jin asks with a whimsical expression.

Joon peeks at the short distance between them and smiles. “Come around this table and find out for yourself.”

“Alright, alright!” The assistant interjects again, holding her hand on Jin’s chest. The guy is close to lunging forward, but she’s snappy and dominant, and they don’t want to mess with her. She’s innocent in all of this. “That’s enough. Leave.”

But he is already doing that. He was halfway out the door before he was grabbing his phone from his pocket and texting Hobi and Yoongi to see if they’re okay.

YOONGI: At the record store with BF. Going back to his apartment later.

HOBI: Yeah I’m good. I was in a lecture and I have work in an hour. I’ll talk to you guys later.

NAMJOON: Jin and I aren’t on speaking terms anymore. We’ll talk later.

He sees a message bubble pop up but he doesn’t stick around for a reply. Instead he is going through his phone contacts and searching for Jimin’s name. When he finds it, Namjoon dials it immediately. He prays the other will answer. And when he does, he can already sense the tension in his tone.

Jimin lets out a loud sigh before asking, “What do you want Joon? I told you—”

“I know what you said, but that’s not good enough for me. I can’t not talk to you.”

There’s a pause. Joon can hear Tae in the background of Jimin’s end.

“I’m a little busy right now. I’m trying to salvage a friendship here.”

“Later then. Can we talk later?”

“I don’t know, Joon…”

“Please. Seriously. Salvage this one too. We should talk.”

“I’ll text you.”

“Jimin, please.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this…”

Before he can say anything else, Jimin ends the call. Low growls and curses escape Namjoon. He feels hopeless, angsty, peeved. But he isn’t ready to give up so easily. He can’t. Not on Jimin.

So he orders himself a Lyft and spends the $12 needed to get from the school to Jimin’s apartment. Namjoon needs to see him again. Jimin needs to know how badly Joon wants to cut Jin out of his life. Jimin needs to see how important he is to him.

[filmstruck]

Roger Ebert: A Good Soldier of Cinema by Susan Doll

I lived in Chicago during the heyday of Roger Ebert’s career as a movie reviewer. I read his weekly reviews and Sunday essays in the Chicago Sun-Times, and I watched the various incarnations of Siskel and Ebert on television. Though I was a regular reader and viewer, he was never my favorite reviewer. As a matter of fact, I have always been ambivalent about his work, though I acknowledge his influence on the discipline of film reviewing, and I salute him as a champion of cinema.

My ambivalence comes from his approach to examining film, which is based mostly on personal taste. Coming from film studies, which involves a variety of structured methodologies for digging deeper into the meaning of movies, I don’t care for the idea of using personal taste as the dominant criteria for judging a film’s quality. As a young female with a modest income, I did not have the same experiences, interests or tastes as Ebert, a middle-aged male from a different economic class. I rarely agreed with his perspective, and there was little else in the reviews. Like many taste-based reviewers, he equated high drama with quality filmmaking and tended to dismiss genre movies, especially horror.

But, Roger Ebert was much more than a weekly movie reviewer; he was a good writer who wrote expressive essays, often based on unique interviews. He was a true cinephile who promoted unsung films that had been squeezed out by an increasingly unfair distribution system. Eventually, he parlayed that obsession into his Overlooked Film Festival in Champaign, Illinois, which fans have dubbed Ebertfest.

It is this Roger Ebert who is the author of Herzog by Ebert, a collection of writings about the work and career of Werner Herzog. Ebert greatly admired Herzog, whom he met in 1968 at the New York Film Festival. Both were 26 years old at the time and about to participate in the most original era of filmmaking in cinema history—the late 1960s through the early 1980s. Herzog would be behind the camera as a filmmaker while Ebert was in front of the screen as a critic. They sustained a personal relationship until Ebert died at age 70 in 2013. Herzog dedicated his documentary ENCOUNTERS AT THE END OF THE WORLD (’07) to Ebert, whom the great director called “the Good Soldier of Cinema,” because he “plowed on until there was no breath in him.” Ebert was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in 2002, which began a roller-coaster of relapses and complications from various surgeries. His health struggles left him unable to speak and without part of his jawbone. Yet, he continued to write and to manage his Overlooked Film Festival. His last review was written within hours of his death, so Herzog’s statement was no exaggeration. Herzog wrote the introduction to Herzog by Ebert, which is an honest assessment of their relationship. He doesn’t romanticize or exaggerate it, so when he ends with the acknowledgement that his life was better for knowing Ebert, you know he means it.

The best way to enjoy this book is to read it in conjunction with the Herzog films available on FilmStruck. Six of Herzog’s earlier films are available, including AGUIRRE, THE WRATH OF GOD (’72) and FITZCARRALDO (’82), as well as two documentaries about him, WERNER HERZOG EATS HIS SHOE (’80) and BURDEN OF DREAMS (’82). The films represent his work from the first half of his career; the latest is MY BEST FIEND (’99), Herzog’s documentary about his relationship with the eccentric, volatile actor Klaus Kinski.

You can sense Ebert’s respect for Herzog’s approach to directing in which each film represented an adventure to be taken, often to a far-off corner of the world. Herzog has shot in the jungles of South America, the sands of the Sahara Desert, the frozen glaciers of Antarctica, even on the slope of an active volcano. Herzog’s mad idea to drag a steamship over a hill in the jungles of South America for FITZCARRALDO, like the title character does in the film, was mentioned by Ebert on more than one occasion over the years. Though Ebert calls FITZCARRALDO meandering and “formless at times,” his admiration for Herzog’s audacity overrides his opinion of the film, noting it is “a movie in the great tradition of grandiose cinematic visions.”

In an interview at the Cannes Film Festival, where FITZCARRALDO premiered, Ebert questioned Herzog about the necessity of dragging the ship over the hill. The director answered in larger-than-life statements, claiming the scene with the boat allows audiences to trust their eyes again after years of Hollywood’s trick photography and unreal special effects. His boat is real, he declared, which “gives you courage for your own dreams.” Ebert poked at the director a bit: “Did you wonder if it was all just a little ludicrous?” But Herzog, who thought in grander terms, remained elusive, and the interview ended on that note. Their exchange is a perfect example of Ebert’s unique interviews, which are actually closer to essays, because his questions are embedded, almost hidden within conversation and observation. In his interviews, he revealed the essence of his subjects, foregoing the trivial factoids or cutesy anecdotes of most celebrity interviews.

Ebert offered noteworthy critical observations and interpretations of Herzog’s work, and those observations were often evocative and expressive. Herzog’s relationship to the settings of his films is profound; the setting or locations are as much a subject or character as the human participants. Ebert liked to say that Herzog “believed in the voodoo of locations,” which was a great phrase that he borrowed from the director himself. But, it was Ebert’s clarification of the phrase that made it understandable. In his review of WHERE THE GREEN ANTS DREAM (’84), he explained that the director “believed in the possibility that if he shoots a movie in the right place at the right time, the reality of the location itself will seep into the film and make it more real.”

After Herzog dedicated ENCOUNTERS AT THE END OF THE WORLD to him, Ebert penned a letter to the director. The letter expressed his deep appreciation for the honor, but just as his interviews were more than just interviews, this was more than just a letter. It became a summary of his thoughts and observations on his films over the years as well as a mini-analysis of Herzog as director. In the last paragraph, he states, “You ennoble the cinema when so many debase it.” It is one of those statements that seems so simple on the surface but has many layers: It reveals Ebert’s great passion for film; it extolls Herzog’s artistry; and, it reminds us that the great era of cinema they experienced together is long gone.

[aion-rsa]

How Roger Corman Finally Restored His Uncensored Vision for The Masque of the Red Death

https://ift.tt/3cl3Pwr

The Masque of the Red Death, Roger Corman’s masterful 1964 adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, has been fully restored and can now be seen in all its diabolical splendor. The seventh of eight “Poe Cycle” films Corman made in the 1960s, Masque is arguably the best. Before its release, Poe had already delivered Corman from the low budget black and white films he shot in 10 days in the 1950s to the relative luxury of three-week shoots and psychedelic underworlds. 

The new DVD/Blu-Ray is the first fully uncut, extended version of the film to be available. Besides restoring cinematographer Nicolas Roeg’s sumptuous camerawork, we get extra scenes which were cut by censors. The package also includes a 20-page booklet with a new essay from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences’ film preservationist Tessa Idlewine.

The original “The Masque of the Red Death” short story was published in 1842, and it is only 15 paragraphs long, shorter than a Cracked article. To fill out the horror feature, screenwriters Charles Beaumont, who wrote episodes of The Twilight Zone as well as The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao, and science fiction author R. Wright Campbell incorporated Poe’s short story “Hop Frog” as a subplot, and added elements of the short story “Torture by Hope” by Auguste Villiers de l’Isle-Adam.

While Corman’s The Masque of the Red Death has discovered new life as a comforting modern parable during the COVID-19 pandemic, when it was released in 1964, many took the film to be a comment on the nuclear nightmares of the Cold War era. It did open the same year as Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove. And atomic bomb fallout resulted in its own “Red Death,” leading to an entire generation to be assured the living would envy the dead. The film was filmed during the Profumo Scandal of 1963, and British tabloids were filled with stories of “Man In The Mask Parties” in Hyde Park Gate.

“I have Tasted the Beauties of Terror”

As an Anglo-American horror movie, The Masque of the Red Death continues European genre progressions set by the Italian Gothic film, Beatrice Cenci, directed by Riccardo Freda in 1956, and Mario Bava’s 1963 film La frusta e il corpo (The Whip and the Body). Corman’s influences went beyond genre, however, incorporating the post-apocalyptic imagery of Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal. In Masque, Death’s messengers report survival rates to their Master, who calculates only “a dwarf jester and five other people remain alive in the world.”

In an interview about the film’s restoration with Den of Geek, Corman admits he “should watch more genre films to keep up with it. But I’m more inclined towards somewhat more serious films, and particularly foreign films.”

The Masque of the Red Death also appears to owe a great debt to American experimental independent filmmaker Kenneth Anger’s Inauguration of The Pleasure Dome (1954), and recalls Michael Curtiz’s 1933 horror film, Mystery of the Wax Museum, which was shot in the pink-and-green two-color Technicolor process.

After years of black and white exploitation pictures for American International Pictures (AIP), Corman’s Poe cycle began his move to color, and the exciting new challenges of shooting beyond monochrome. The adaptation of The Masque of the Red Death set a new level of excellence in Corman’s use of set dressing, lighting, and costume design. They are given a fuller palette.

Says Corman, “I always thought that Poe represented the unconscious mind, and I shot according to that. It was one of my themes.”

In Poe’s story, the pride of Prince Prospero’s palace is seven rooms. Each is decorated and illuminated in a specific color: blue, purple, green, orange, white, and violet. The last room is black and bathed in light which shines a deep color of blood. All of the furniture is black, including a clock, which chimes each hour. At the chime of the clock, the revelers at the masquerade freeze. The musicians stop playing. The dancers strike a pose, and all conversations stop. Revelry resumes when the chiming stops. The rooms represent the human mind, the blood and time infuses corporeality. Corman’s direction manages to let that seep into every frame. The tone is both mischievous and chilling.  

The Masque of the Red Death is atmospheric. The dialogue is more important than the action, but the settings and framing are paramount. “I felt the unconscious mind doesn’t really see the world,” Corman explains. “The conscious mind sees the world with eyes, ears, and so forth, and simply transmits information. So, I made a point on all of the Poe films of never going outside unless I absolutely had to. I wanted to have full control, to shoot within the studio. Whether it came through to the audience, I don’t know. But at least in my own mind, I was able to deal with special effects with a number of things, with the concept of the unconscious mind.”

The cinematography was done by Nicholas Roeg. While Corman hadn’t yet become acquainted with Mario Bava, Roeg’s camera allows the Italian horror director’s psychedelic influence to surge through the camera. The Masque of the Red Death “was the first I had done in England,” Corman tells us. “And they showed me a work of a number of English cameramen, and I thought Nic was the best of the group. And the collaboration went very well. I thought he did really, a brilliant job [with the] camera work.”

Roeg would go on to direct classic independent cinema with films like Don’t Look Now, Performance starring Mick Jagger, and the David Bowie cinematic encapsulation, The Man Who Fell to Earth. “I never knew, did I inspire him to be a director, or did he feel ‘if Roger can do it, anybody can do it?’” Corman wonders.

While Corman had a bigger budget and more time to make the film, cost- and labor-cutting alternatives occasionally provided fortunate outcomes. “Danny Heller, my art director, and I, always went to what was called a scene dock in studios where we’re going to work,” Corman says. “The scene dock contained flats from previous pictures, just individual flats. When we did Masque of the Red Death, we found these magnificent flats from Becket.”

The Price of Evil

Vincent Price has the most delicious delivery in this film. His devil worshipping Prince Prospero is the cruel sovereign of a village plagued with an all-consuming Red Death, and Price’s inflections are infectious. His voice is seductive, and his cruelty brims with good humor.

“He had the character pretty much set in mind when he came into it,” Corman remembers. “Vincent always did a great deal of preparation. We would discuss the characters, just Vincent and me, before the rehearsals. He and I were in agreement on the character, and then he would bring that character to the rehearsals. We did not do a great deal of rehearsing because of the Screen Actors Guild rules. They charge you as if you are shooting when you rehearse.”

Price played Roderick Usher in Corman’s first Poe adaptation, The Fall of the House of Usher. For The Masque of The Red Death, the director only gave one note. “As I remember, I said, ‘The really key to Prospero’s character is that he believes God is dead,’” Corman says. “And everything stems from that belief. That with the absence of God, he was free to do anything he wanted.” 

Ultimate power breeds ultimate corruption. The film is set in a country decimated by an epidemic. While the prince of this unnamed land offers refuge for his courtiers, he derives perverse satisfaction in condemning his subjects to death by their exclusion. While Prospero is making his annual deign-to-see-the-peasants day, one of the townspeople dies of Red Death. 

The prince intended to offer peasants some crumbs in appreciation of their labor, but young Gino (David Weston) mocks him. To make matters worse, the ungrateful worker’s lover Francesca (Jane Asher) defends the man, prompting Prospero to label both of them insurrectionists. He burns the village to the ground, throws Gino and Francesca’s father into one of the most foreboding castle dungeons in horror history, and puts Francesca up at his palace. Tempted by the idealism and faith of the village’s “resistance,” Prospero corrupts and sacrifices for sheer joy.  

Read more

Movies

The Masque of the Red Death: Roger Corman Talks Pandemics and Restoration

By Tony Sokol

Culture

When Paul McCartney Braved the Set of Roger Corman’s The Masque of the Red Death

By Tony Sokol

Meanwhile the prince promises his aristocratic guests that they will be immune to the scourge, unless they displease him. He throws a masked ball and forbids anyone to wear red, as it would be in bad taste. He is actually preparing a mass sacrifice in exchange for Satan’s favor. Asher’s Francesca is an incorruptible innocent who seems to have perfect faith. The Satanic prince will not tolerate any Christian worship on his estate, so he delights in tempting the faithful into the “velvet darkness” of evil. Prospero hopes to turn her into a Satanist or drive her mad.

For the Uninvited, There is Much to Fear

The film was hit with heavy censorship. In the U.S, the Catholic Legion of Decency sent a list of changes, and in the UK, the British Board of Film Censors required a separate set of cuts. The Legion of Decency bemoaned the “Satanism and erotic costuming” on the screen, according to the booklet which comes with the DVD/Blu-Ray package. Father Sal Miraliotta, a separate reviewer from the Legion of Decency, first approved the film and then changed his grade to a B, which meant morally objectionable. He ultimately downgraded it to a full Condemned rating, blasting the Satanic worship and its malignancy of the soul, and mocking the screenwriters’ “strung-together gibberish” and “mumbo-jumbo Latin.”

Hazel Court’s Juliana is captivating and as conniving as Prince Prospero. She’s also more subtly insidious. Juliana dedicates herself to the service of Satan and receives the ultimate payoff. While most of Juliana’s satanic invocation was left in, censors wanted the word “Alleluia” removed. The U.S. version also censored the film’s climax. When the Man in Red is talking with Prince Prospero, the dialogue was changed from “Each man creates his own God for himself. His own Heaven – his own Hell” to “Each man creates his own Heaven – his own Hell.” This takes out the idea that God could be created by man, something Ian Anderson would explore on Jethro Tull’s classic 1971 album, Aqualung.  

When asked whether all this divine intervention made Corman think he just might be going to hell, he says, “No, that never occurred to me. I’m sort of a lapsed Catholic, and I don’t believe there is a hell.”

Some of the cuts had nothing to do with blasphemous ideology. The tiny dancer Esmeralda is played on camera by young actor Verina Greenlaw, but her dialogue was dubbed over by an adult woman. Skip Martin’s clever Hop Toad character plots vengeance over her royal mistreatment at the hands of Alfredo, campily played by veteran actor Patrick Magee. One unsettling scene was removed from the U.S. version because it seemed Esmerelda’s relationship with Hop Toad was more than friendship.

Corman also cut nine frames from the scene where Francesca is stripped down and thrown into a bathtub because it gave the illusion of nudity. The removed frames ensured Asher’s breasts would not appear on screen.

“I’ve Already Had That Doubtful Pleasure“

The irony, upon seeing the restored scenes, is how they actually feed into the surprisingly righteous conclusion of the film. The Masque of the Red Death is rife with blasted, unholy incantations, but the prince’s callous sacrifices and lifelong debauchery mean nothing to a master who answers to no one. Talk about moral relativity! The hero of The Masque of Red Death is Death, and Death worships no gods and no devils. The depths of Prospero’s belief turn out to be mere demonic delusions.

Corman shot the low-budget Poe pictures through bulky Mitchell cameras on 35mm film and the restoration breathes a new life to each underfunded frame. Composer David Lee’s soundtrack of tambourines, fifes, and brass evokes the medieval period, as do the elegant costumes by Laura Nightingale. The restoration highlights the lushness of both, as they mix to underscore the “velvet darkness” with subliminal subtext of renewal and hope. At the same time, the restored cut actually makes the darkness darker.

The Masque of Red Death ends with the words “Sic transit gloria mundi,” Latin for “thus goes the glory of the world.” Corman’s take on Poe’s apocalyptic parable is a truly inglorious achievement. The film is proof that no budgetary restrictions hold back artistic vision when lunatics get the run of the asylum. They can create and destroy a whole crazy world.

The Masque of the Red Death is available on Blu-Ray, DVD, and Digital now.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The post How Roger Corman Finally Restored His Uncensored Vision for The Masque of the Red Death appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3t5uvHA

[um-southridge2020blog]

topic #5 Writing a college essay: Lauren

College essays are an integral part of the college application process. They’re incredibly important since they are the part of your application that demonstrates your individuality and helps you stick out amongst thousands of other applicants. You can describe yourself in your own words, which will help those reviewing applications remember you. Furthermore, it’s the part of the application you have the most control over, considering your test scores and academic grades can’t be changed or edited once they are documented.  

A successful college essay allows the application reviewers to get a glimpse into who you are. It’s important to talk about yourself in a way that depicts you in a good light and explains why you’d be a good candidate for the schools you’re applying to while also being unique. It would be best if you talked about what makes you different from all other applicants; this includes your hobbies, your strengths, any obstacles you’ve overcome and how you did so, your goals, and your future aspirations. While most schools have general prompts to follow, you can fit all these topics within those guidelines.

Most students write about a hobby/sport/club/ or other activities they did consistently, as this demonstrates dedication, work ethic, and a strength that makes them unique. However, it’s important to be honest, and to not describe yourself in a way that sounds arrogant or that sounds like bragging. Furthermore, it’s important to note that many students have similar hobbies or have participated in the same sports. You have to delve deeper and clarify why your experience is a unique one, how it impacted your life, and how it made you a better person coming out of it. College prompts also have word limits, so you’ll need to do all this concisely and clearly because you won’t have the opportunity to make it too wordy.

Below is the college essay I wrote as a senior in college and which I used on my application, where I talked about the years I spent dancing competitively:

“By the time I was four years old, I considered myself polylingual, though what I perceived as my third language was really scatterings of French ballet terms I had picked up from my ballet teachers. From the moment I walked into my first ballet class, bright-eyed and freshly potty-trained, my life revolved around one thing: dance. Any moment not on a barre was a moment wasted, and the most prominent adult in my life was my studio director, who even to this day, I picture in the center of her spacious studio, handing out solos the way Mother Theresa handed out alms. Even the first time I ever really looked at myself was in that first ballet studio, reflected on the large mirrors that lined the walls, my chubby hands gripping the barre, my leotard riding up to expose my Elmo underwear.

As I grew older, who I was, or who I considered myself to be, was based on my leotard size, the number of pirouettes I could hit consecutively, and the fleeting criticism my instructor granted me when she deigned to look me in the eye. At eight years old I was putting in forty hours a week, filling my weekends with auditions, workshops, and regional and national competitions. When people asked me what I did, I responded dance. When they asked me who I was, I responded dancer.

In those mirrored studios, with our every move reflected glaringly back at us, I learned what it meant to lose, to envy, to hate. The crippling defeat of second place, the bitterness of a solo given to a peer, the fear of being replaced by someone better, was what often propelled not just me, but the droves of children I competed against. We shared an indoctrinated paranoia that launched us into this world of artistry and technique with what felt like the weight of the world on our backs.  

When I was twelve, my parents noticed the constant stress I was under, emphasized by my erratic mood swings and my constant need to count calories, a habit left over from countless crash diets to fit into too tight costumes. They decided to take me out of dance, for a little while they assured me, and though I raged at them, something in me was relieved that that part of my life was over. However, this left me with an existential dilemma worthy of a midlife crisis: if I wasn't a dancer, who was I? Thankfully, I could tell you what I was not: a leotard size, a set of pirouettes, a critique from a middle-aged woman without a college degree.  

Retrospectively, dance was not an entirely negative part of my life. It taught me practical things like posture, culture, and discipline, while instilling in me confidence, ambition, and competitiveness. My drive is another thing that I credit solely to dance. After everything, I still love to dance and compete, and to do so I maintain rigorous hours of training. Despite my high school’s intense workload and my other extracurricular activities, I remain dedicated to dancing, and I pride myself on my ability to get the best of both worlds- academic and artistic, despite the brutal hours and late nights. It also taught me the importance of teamwork, and what it means to sacrifice not just for myself, but for others.  

Who I am today can be traced back to those ballet barres my little hands struggled to hold on to, and I like to say that dance provided the pressure I needed to go from a lump of coal into a diamond. Thanks to dance, I walk with my back straight and my head held high, both literally and figuratively. Sometimes I think I will never shed my inner leotard, and as I grow up and face life face first, I don't think I want to.”

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Sunday, 08 November 2020

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sentencestarters317]

write my paper for me

About me

10 Tips For Writing Any College Paper

10 Tips For Writing Any College Paper I all the time get excited and neglect to give you the finest review because I hit the approve button after which I cannot return and provide the best feedback. The author did an excellent job with course work and writing skills. At our firm, we not only hire professional writers however present opportunities for them to develop. We often supply educational coaching to our workers to ensure they keep up with the current improvements. They explained how to request a revision, and this time the paper is significantly better. More like a tutor, and rather more than an average writing service. The high quality is excessive above my expectations and your assist team is really useful. He/she requested me every little thing that was not clear, and the essay turned out good. This is considered one of my favorite disciplines, and that's too unhealthy I could not meet the deadline within the project. I may see the first part completed inside just 8 hours. After I accredited it, the remainder of the work was written. Learners have extra assignments than they can comfortably do within their given deadlines. Our writers went through this method; hence, they understand your plight. When you strategy them, they relieve you from the pain of a bloated college schedule. When writing, write in flow and don’t look again. If you turn to our service, we will make these assignments much less nerve-wracking for you. We don’t simply write academic assignments; we additionally provide you with points of reference where you'll be able to be taught from the best experts in numerous fields. The trendy training system is bloated at all levels. I by no means used your web site before, however this time I had no different likelihood. Now I know that being wanting time I can just place my inquiry and rent one of your writers. I discovered so many interesting details about the problem of research. Your supporters helped find a fantastic writer who made this literary analysis. We additionally monitor the efficiency of our specialists and make sure they observe the excessive standards of writing. What you can do is to contemplate professional’s help as an effective weapon towards author's block. Some of the assignments can suck all of the energy out of you because of the complexity or a large amount of monotonous work correlated with them. Don’t format as you go, concentrate on assembly your word rely first, after which when you're carried out writing, return and evaluate. If you try to evaluation as you go alongside, it's going to take you longer to satisfy your word count, and also you would possibly become too fatigued to complete your work. So, simply go on writing with out wanting again, and evaluation solely when you've met the word rely. Yes, each college essay is learn if the college has requested for it . The number of readers is determined by the faculty’s review process. Although I was going to criticize lots, the writer did an excellent job. He or she took all the necessities and wrote the essay I wished. Your the most effective and actually respect all of the exhausting work you do on all my papers! I do discover your service actually important for my studies. The writer delivered the writing piece just the way in which I requested. I will now have the ability to add my thoughts to an amazing paper. I actually have so many papers, that it was unimaginable to finish them all.

[howtowriteanessay711]

buy an essays

About me

Is It Safe To Buy Essays Online?

Is It Safe To Buy Essays Online? Every paper we write is unique and done from scratch to suit your specific needs. A detailed plagiarism report is another profit that comes with our writing companies. Request it and get it together together with your bought essay free of charge. I ain't a pro in terms of writing however from the grade I obtained I can tell these bros did a terrific job. After the payment, our writers will get into motion. When the essay is full, you'll get a draft the place you can make corrections. The author will affect the corrections and ship the completed last draft of the essay. Remember, it's better to buy essay on-line than to miss the essay submission deadline. If you might be a mean scholar, the essay writing providers offered on-line will help in sharpening your brain and essay writing expertise. I'm very glad with the end result of my assignments on a regular basis and if I'm not their refund policy is nice! You can use them for any sort of task, Math, Reports, Coding and a lot more. I will advocate this web site to all my family and friends if they need assistance finishing assignments. The better part is that they stand behind the zero plagiarism a hundred% and I even have never received a plagiarized paper since I been utilizing them. The costs are all the time in my budget and the writers are all the time keen to work with your price range additionally. I was pressed for time, had two papers to write and work a 60 hour week. I wasn't sure how I would get both paper full within the time period given, so I hopped on line and came across studybay. After going by way of at least profiles Favored1 stood out most to me. They are very by way of to make effective transitions which might be required within the essay writing. In addition, we've chopping-edge instruments increases our potential and take our capacity to another degree. I requested my friend (who’s ordered before at your company) if your writers can help write research papers for me, and he recommended your service. I am really glad with the quality of textual content and cooperation with my writer, and I will certainly order from her once more. One way by way of which people find customized writing web sites is by studying on-line reviews on websites like SiteJabber or Trustpilot. Online critiques are opinions of scholars who've tried out totally different writing help providers and can tell you where they get essay assist. Irrespective of academic degree, you need to have come throughout with it in something or one other type. While students write an essay, they do thorough analysis that showcases the expertise of students. The essay must be a work-of-artwork in order to achieve good grades. Our writers are extremely progressive and take the best concepts to make your essay a masterwork. Essay and educational writing is one thing which shall be tug together with you till you are learning. The man who wrote it deserves a Pulitzer or one thing. Go and buy customized essay online if you wish to have a life. Mightyessays.com is packed with world’s most famous and trusted educational writing tools and strategies which give it an edge over others. Our writers are nicely-geared up will all sort of experience which makes your essay a masterwork. It just isn't like a daily dialog that we use. Remember, you may get pleasure from utilizing an escrow cost method where you pay the cash into an account that can't be withdrawn till you might be satisfied with our companies. You can also make initial fee only to complete it when the paper is accomplished.

[spongebobthememeessay490-blog]

same day essay

About me

Kobe Bryant Day

Kobe Bryant Day All the things the average particular person is capable of doing, qualified college writers are able to doing simpler! They simply take advantage of conference and going above your goals. Each one of your would like with regards to the association points for any freelance writers similar day essay. Not simply could possibly be the construction main, it's usually unique for the private reviewing requirements. Every single factor an everyday pupil are capable of doing, dealt with educational writers does healthier! And they wrote an incredible educational papers for me. I actually like their service and quality of work. I chosen it is to do my homework & write my essay within the just concluded 4th semester. It has been appropriate up to now and I do thank their essay writers for the top of the range job. I'm looking at all the things that they've outlined in my essay, and samedayessay.com does nicely. All essays are written only by highly certified writers, some of them even have a tutorial degree. Several instances the writers did the task on the incorrect time, but normally everything is ok. If you need to do paper work, but you don't have sufficient time, then Pepersowl will at all times help. I have employed Samedayessay to write my instructional papers. Immediately after your paper is delivered to you, you can see the selection to make use of no-value alterations inside couple of weeks. If your writer indirectly has failed to satisfy your personal directions, or you are not happy with the final end result, you'll be able to ask for a free amendments, it means that. Some other servicing take care of scientific or e-book research, energy issue displays, generating work, summaries of fabric, a, critiques and annotations great deal of other. If you have to format or edit your work, similar day essay will assist you to for free, in addition. They really are so good with and would at all times final minute 24 hour essay authoring they have end up getting good with immediate crafting while delivering value improvements. We’ve checked them for reliability and high quality, so you'll find out the companies that had been in a position to meet the utmost necessities. I even have been utilizing it for a 12 months now and have by no means had any problems. Even if there are any difficulties, then the assist will help you instantly. Each certainly one of your hopes about the request matters for a authors similar day essay. Not alone is processing traditional, moreover it's tailor-made together with your confidential examining expectations. If you need larger quality and shorter deadline, the price per web page will be greater. Write my Paper for Me presents a typical range of academic providers for purchasers, from easy works like an essay to more advanced ones like a analysis paper. It’s nonetheless a very cheap value considering the outstanding high quality that you just get. Most students share optimistic opinions by way of their essay writing critiques. Those who use this service are impressed with the speedy supply, well mannered customer service agents, and quality of the work done. Moreover, each order at Essay on Time is accomplished by a small group consisting of a researcher, a author, and a proofreader, which is one other important advantage of this service. Essay on Time is likely one of the oldest services available on the market, it really works since 2006. Next, it was surprising to search out that prospects can join with them by way of Messenger and reside chat as a result of not lots of corporations in the trade provide these communication options. Fortunately for you, we’ve collected some of the most popular essay writing services and reviewed them so you know whom to trust without spending lots of time on personal research. Although we do recommend using additional essay writing providers to obtain a high-quality paper, you can miss a number of the extras to have a lower price should you don’t want them. Another approach to save funds is to adjust the order difficulty in accordance with your tutorial level. Alternatively, you'll be able to download it from our database. They merely relish seminar and going above your necessities. One more secret is that for us, you are not common. The company is U.S.-primarily based and employs native English speakers, as suggested by the samples and customer feedback discovered for this Essay on Time evaluate. Based on the data from different essay writing services reviews, this can be a huge advantage over different similar companies.