#like please i have a masters degree and good grades and want money please just let me work

[maryse127]

Me, to my friends: yeah I interned at a toy company during my bachelor's degree and it was basically unpaid labor. Made me do all the things the other employees didn't want to do or didn't have time for which sometimes included watering plants and packaging shipments

Me, describing the same internship on a job application: I used to do translation work for a children's electronics company

[tinycodingkitty]

Gonna join the party and add some advice as a PhD student (this will be far more focussed on the system in England, since, y'know, I live there.

CHECK YOUR EMAILS. And whatever Canvas/Blackboard/Learning Online Platform faffery your uni uses. They will expect you to read them and follow the information there, and even aside from that, you'll hear about cool things! And sometimes free food!

Speaking of which, do the cool/weird/scary things that the uni offers. Not just societies (but yes also societies) but the trips and stuff. I got to go to San Franscisco for free through the uni.

Join a society! Don't do it like i did where I accidentally turned a fandom society into a cult of personality (...long story), but join one! There's associations for like, disability and LGBTQ+ and everything, but also you'll find there's certain societies that attract LGBTQ+ and neurodivergent people naturally if that's your jam. Also join your subject society, it's a pretty easy way to hang out with people on your course.

You don't have to drink. You will make friends even if you don't. Also for freshers week, if you do want to go partying (as is fair), please go for the official uni fresher events and not the scams. It'll keep you safer and save you money (don't trust randos in your fresher gc selling wristbands).

Remember that student bank accounts are easy to open and often have shiny benefits more than your casual Monzo/Starling/etc accounts. Like when I was a student Santander gave you a 16-25 railcard for the length of your degree which... yes please.

You probably won't get to pick your modules for your first year or so, but if you're doing integrated masters, remember that just because a module's available this year doesn't mean it'll be there next year. Take the modules you want to take, not the ones you think will look good on your transcript.

A 70+ is a first. A 40+ is passing. Sometimes you do just need to pass and move on, especially in second year when you have time to repair the grade and ESPECIALLY in first year when grades don't count towards your final grade anyway (I ended second year with a grade just under a 2:1. I graduated with a first)

I know it’s been a bit since you were in school, but as someone who is about to go to university, do you have any tips?

It is such a huge privilege when someone your age asks an Old like me for advice. When I was young, I thought dudes in their 50s were lame and had nothing to offer. Now that I'm one of those dudes, I understand what a gift it is when you ask me to share my experience. I hope this helps you a little bit.

Make time to meet your professors during their office hours.

You don't have to go have a deep conversation, just introduce yourself, tell them which class you are in, and thank them for their time.

You're doing this because there will be a time in your future when you need an extra day for something, or a little extra help or attention, or something like that. When you go to talk to your professor about that, it won't be the first time you've met them, and that will make a difference.

That's on an academic level. On a personal level, you're going to spend a LOT of the next few years figuring out who you are, what your values are, and how you want to live your life. Most of us try to be someone profoundly different from who we are, in our first year or two, because we're on our own and trying out what it feels like to be an adult. The thing I want you to just remember while you do that is: you know who your are in your heart, and if you try to not be that person, you will draw people to you who don't like *you* as much as they like who you are pretending to be.

It's a long way of saying "be true to yourself. Know what your values are and live them consistently, so you find other people who share them."

Finally, the advice I give everyone who asks me questions like yours:

Choose to be kind.

Choose to be honest.

Choose to be honorable.

Choose to do your best and understand that your best will vary from day to day. Don't judge yourself when your best on Monday is not the same as it was last Thursday. Just do your best, consistently.

You're at the beginning of a really great time in your life. I hope you get everything you want out of it, enjoy learning, and make life long friends.

[urnooboo]

LIFELINES AND LEGACIES - A D&D inspired TS4 Legacy Challenge

By me, @urnooboo!

Even though I’m not active, I wanted to start another legacy challenge, but I didn’t want to do a normal one. Since my friends and I play D&D and love it, why not take inspiration from there? And so here is the culmination of that little brainstorm! It’s my first time making a challenge like this, so hopefully it won’t be that bad. :D It’s a legacy challenge based on the Dungeons and Dragons classes!

If you want to try this challenge out, please use the tags #L&L challenge or #ts4 L&L ! I’d really appreciate it if anyone tries this out just for fun! 

Bit of a warning, this challenge gets a bit chaotic in the middle because...honestly, I dunno,,,,

Rules and requirements under the cut!!

Pack Requirements: All the EPs and GPs except for Star Wars (ew), but you can always skip some requirements if you don’t have the packs for them

You can choose to do this on normal lifespan, but playing on long is allowed too.

So, how do you want to do this?

GENERATION 1: Fighter

You don’t have much right now, but you’re determined to build yourself from the ground up and start a family. You have a strong will to fight when needed and you’re quite athletic. You don’t have to be completely alone at the start of this journey, however, and a long time best friend of yours can be part of your party.

RULES:

Must have Active trait

Fight/”Friendly Spar” with at least 3 different sims and 1 occult sim

Complete Successful Lineage aspiration

Starting funds must be less than 20,000 simoleons after buying a house

Get a job in either the Fitness career or the Military career

OPTIONAL: Can have another sim in the household when starting out, and must be friends with them. They can be your family, childhood friend,existing lover, or just some random roommate. (Also yes, you’re allowed to romance them. Unless if they’re your family, yikes)

GENERATION 2: Druid

Your family may not have had the best financial state starting out, but you don’t let things like money phase you. You’ve always loved nature and going out, and dreamed of wanting to do more for the environment as an adult. You like to take things a bit slowly, and love to lounge around. 

RULES:

Must have Vegetarian, Lazy, and Loves Outdoors traits

Lot must be off-the-grid

Have a green eco footprint

Marry in adulthood instead of young adulthood

Meet and become friends with the hermit in Granite Falls

Max out the Gardening skill and grow your own food

Optional: You must only have one lover and you must woo them with bees

GENERATION 3: Artificer

You’re dissatisfied at how your family lounges around most of the time, and you’re quite the workaholic compared to them. Your career is your life, and you happen to be both ambitious and gifted. Though you love your child but you have absolutely no idea how to be a parent. So you might end up being a bit of a helicopter parent… 

RULES:

Must have Ambitious and Genius traits

Graduate college on a scholarship

Get a job in the Scientist career

Have at least level 6 Robotics skill

Have only one child, born from a one night stand/fling

Never get married

Only do strict parenting interactions with your child

OPTIONAL: Complete the element collection

GENERATION 4: Wizard

You grew up in a house with high expectations, and always wanted to please your family. You worked hard in your studies and in the end- it paid off. But at the cost of you not having much of a social life. However, that really isn’t your priority. Instead, you chose to start learning the magic arts, enthralled by its mystic ways. You were always good at school, so why not start getting good at magic now? As long as you put your mind to it, it shouldn’t be that hard...right? 

RULES:

Must have Perfectionist and Loner traits

Have less than 5 friends

Must finish Whiz Kid child aspiration

Become an “A” student in both grade school and high school

Must have “Responsible” trait when you reach Young Adulthood (via high responsibility value)

Graduate college with a distinguished degree

Become a spellcaster

OPTIONAL: Take the teaching or doctor career

GENERATION 5: Sorcerer

You were born with a magical bloodline, and you love to show it off. You want the whole world to see that you’re a cool prodigal spellcaster. You’re the complete opposite of your parent; loud, outgoing, quick to make friends. You’ve even developed a knack for acting in order to impress people, and you dream of becoming a famous star in order to show those who wronged you before that you’re the best thing on earth. 

RULES:

Must have Self-Absorbed and Erratic trait

Must have weak bloodline trait from parent and become a spellcaster

Reach the Adept, Master, or Virtuoso rank 

Become at least a B-Lister

Get to level 7 of the Actor career

Have some sort of rival

Must have “Good Manners” trait when reaching Young Adulthood (via high manners value)

Must have good reputation

Optional: Be the leader of a popular club and have the Insider trait

GENERATION 6: Bard

You’ve got it all. Rich and famous family, a magical bloodline, musical skill, lots of friends...but something inside you just feels...missing. Thanks to this, you started going around looking for lovers, carelessly tossing aside those who happened to not meet your indecisive standards. It would probably take you years before you calm down and settle with someone you truly care about, but all the heartbreak you’ve caused before that is quite impressive, to say the least. 

RULES:

Must have Romantic, Music Lover and Non-Committal traits

This sim has to be the hottest generation. Go all out yo!!!!

Must have strong bloodline trait but cannot be a spellcaster

Complete the Serial Romantic Aspiration

Work in the Entertainer career as a musician

Have as many affairs as you want and have illegitimate kids BUT…

Your heir must be the result of an affair with an occult sim that isn’t a spellcaster. See rules for next generation below

OPTIONAL: Only get married in late adulthood or elder life stage. You can’t have kids with this person.

GENERATION 7: Warlock

You never really had a close relationship with your “famous” parent, and spent more time with your occult family, making you pretty close with each other. Your half siblings don’t like you because you inherited a part of your famous parent’s fortune, despite being...you know...a paranormal freak? To get around this, you developed quite a skillful tongue, and you know your way around words. Now you’re looking for someone to get some more money from... 

RULES:

Must have bloodline trait AND be part of an occult race that isn't a spellcaster. Like, you could be a mermaid, vampire, or alien with the bloodline trait, or even a half alien or half vampire.

Have a high relationship with your occult parent

Reach level 10 charisma skill and get yourself a sugar daddy/mommy. :D

Now, your path for this generation will differ depending on whether your parent is an alien, vampire, or mermaid, and is based on some of the D&D warlock patrons. However, this divergence is completely optional. and you can just focus on finding a sugar daddy/mommy only

ALIEN PARENT (Great Old One patron) You can be either a full alien or half alien for this one.

Get a job in the Astronaut career and visit Sixam

Max out your Logic skill

If you’re a full alien, memory wipe at least one person who you had a high relationship with if they find out you’re an alien.

Must have Insensitive trait when you reach Young Adulthood (comes from having low empathy)

VAMPIRE PARENT (Undying patron) You can be either a full vampire or half-vampire for this one.

Max out your vampire lore skill

Own a cowplant for as long as possible

If full vampire, turn at least one person into a vampire

Become friends with the Grim Reaper, by any means necessary :)

MERMAID PARENT (Kraken/Lurker in the Deep patron) (UA) You can only be a full mermaid for this one.

Max out your fishing skill

Try to have one child with Sulani Mana trait

Collect 5 rare fishes

Die from polar bear plunge (jumping into a pool outside when it’s freezing cold)

GENERATION 8: Cleric

The generation before was…chaotic, to say the least. You may have occult blood in you but you’re gonna try to set things straight for future generations. How are you gonna do that? BY GETTING RICH, OF COURSE! SPREAD THE WORD OF CAPITALISM AROUND BY STARTING YOUR OWN RETAIL STORE! Or a restaurant, that works too. The most prominent thing that you’ve inherited from your parents is your love of money, and you’re constantly coming up with schemes to get more. Gods may not exist in The Sims, but you might as well worship something that’s powerful. And money is power.

RULES: 

Must have Materialistic trait

Have a job in the Business career, Politics career, or Civil Designer career (Civic Planner) and bop bop bop, bop to the top

Own at least one retail store/restaurant with a rating of at least three stars

Complete the Fabulously Wealthy Aspiration

Eventually move to a penthouse OR one of the big apartments in the business district in San Myshuno

Have only one child

Fall in love with someone from work, then divorce them after having a fight

GENERATION 9: Paladin

Despite the unique circumstances that happened before your birth, you grew up...pretty normal. There’s not much to say about you since your magical bloodline and occult genes are probably dwindling from here, and sooner or later your family legacy will go back to being humans. You’ve always wanted to protect this world and be the one to bring justice to it, so you take up a job in the police force. You and your lover unfortunately had a kid, and even though your lover may have wanted it deep down you actually hate kids. You’ve heard about strange events going on in a town called Strangerville, and you’ve been itching to investigate… 

RULES:

Must be close with Generation 8 sim

Must have Hates Children trait

Have a job in the Police career

Complete the Strangerville Aspiration and become the Hero of Strangerville

Have the “Mediator” trait when reaching Young Adulthood (from high conflict resolution)

Stay in the penthouse/apartment your parent got

OPTIONAL: Complete the “Rambunctious Scamp” child aspiration and get “Physically Gifted” trait

GENERATION 10: Rogue

Ironically, despite your upbringing, you ended up becoming a deviant that has constant run-ins with the law. Your relationship with your family isn’t great, but you’re determined to make a name for yourself as a slippery troublemaker. Your true dream however, is to find your one true lover, since you’re a secret hopeless romantic. Your flirting skills are laughable though, and you tense up whenever you have to do something romantic. How are you gonna find love like this? 

RULES:

Have bad relationship with Generation 9 sim

Must have Kleptomaniac, Gloomy, and Unflirty traits

Reach the top of the criminal career

Complete both the Soulmate aspiration

Whenever you visit another sim’s lot, steal something from their house

Have up to two exes before finally settling on the one you wanna marry

Get friendzoned at least once

Move out of your parents’ penthouse/apartment and into a small 20x15 lot

OPTIONAL: Have negative reputation

OPTIONAL: Be BFFs with your other parent

You can end the challenge here, but there are still some more D&D classes left to do, so here they are, the optional generations!

GENERATION 11: Barbarian

You take after your parent a lot, and you’re skilled in making people absolutely hate you. Your emotions are just as stable as Philippine wifi, and you have this terrible habit of getting into fights a lot. But just because people don’t like you doesn’t mean you can’t go out and have fun. In fact, you’re quite infamous for going out to parties and starting bar fights. 

RULES:

Must have Hot-headed and Mean traits

Must have “Uncontrolled Emotions” trait when aging up into Young Adulthood (from low emotional control)

Fight as many people as possible, make lots of enemies

Throw a lot of parties and go to lots of bar nights and events

Complete Public Enemy aspiration

OPTIONAL: Die from cardiac arrest

GENERATION 12: Monk

For someone with a public nuisance for a parent, you’re pretty chill. You love to make stuff, and your way of life is quite tranquil, to say the least. You’re handy and artistic, and love to do things yourself, even if it does give off the impression that you’re super cheap. You’ve always got a gift for someone during christmas, and your inventory is full of stuff that you’ve made, or components to make stuff with. The world is cool with you, and you’re cool with the world. You’re not the type of person who could hold down a regular job though...

RULES:

Max out the Wellness skill

Must have Maker trait

Be at least level 4 in the all following skills: Handiness, Fabrication, Painting, Writing, Flower Arranging, and any instrument skill. (Also Knitting, if you have it)

Always change jobs when you reach level 4 in them, and your only truly stable source of income is from selling the stuff you’ve made

Live on an off-the-grid lot, preferably somewhere near the water or near a forest

Have twins for kids and only those twins (you can cheat to get this ahhaha)

Elope only, cause weddings aint your style

Explore Selvadorada with your family at least once

GENERATION 13: Ranger

After you and your family went on a vacation to Selvadorada, you decided that you’d travel the world, no matter what! Your twin sibling was originally gonna help you complete this dream, but unfortunately they died due to mysterious circumstances. While you mourned away your sorrows, you came across a stray animal that reminded you of your late sibling and decided to take it in. Once you got yourself together out of your slump, you decided to pack your bags and start travelling around the world for realsies.

RULES: 

Be BFFs with your twin

Twin sibling must die during their teenage/early young adult years

Adopt at least one pet after that (yeah, you can have more)

Complete Friend of the Animals aspiration

Visit all the vacation worlds at least once in your lifetime

Discover all the secret lots except Sixam

Visit at least one lot in each normal world with your pet

Move household at least once

Don’t have children

And that’s it! I hope you guys enjoy this challenge!! I’ll try to play this too, though I might be even more inactive since school is finally starting hnnng you guys are free to tweak some requirements to better suit your gameplay so just have fun and enjoy!!!

[wyn-n-tonic]

The more I learn about Elizabeth Miller, the more I fall in love with her!!!! Please tell us more about her and her life? ❤️

Elizabeth Adele Miller was born four years after Will. Her parents were done. D O N E . They had their boy, a decent age gap to where he could somewhat take care of himself and then they had their girl. And then SURPRISE, Benjamin Miller comes into the picture eleven months later.

She has a typical brother-sister relationship with Will where he just wants to protect her. But Benny? That's her best friend. Her commandant. Her partner in crime. Ben's parents skipped him from kindergarten and they started first grade together. Nobody really understood how they were siblings but not twins because, ya know, math is hard for five and six year olds.

They originally put Benny and Lizzy in different classes but they raised so much hell, they had to be put into the same one.

She played soccer and was gangly as hell until she hit puberty and suddenly people were paying attention to her. She went from being somebody boys didn't pay any attention to at all to being somebody people were only interested in sexually. Benny became very protective, as did Will. Will taught her how to throw a decent punch because, "I won't be around forever."

She cried at his graduation because that meant he was going off to basic and she hated that but at least she still had Benny.

People thought her closeness to her family was weird, Benny was like her built in best friend and any friends she did have she eventually dropped because they only wanted to hang out with her to get close to Ben. She spent a lot of time with her books and got a part time job to go halfsies on a car with Benny.

They got into a car accident together and nobody could reach Will and all she kept crying for despite her broken ribs was her big brother who carried her home from the creek when she broke her ankle. All she wanted was a kiss on the forehead and to be told everything was going to be okay.

She and Ben both graduated with impeccable grades near the top of their class. He went to basic and she spent her first summer truly alone her whole life before she went off to college.

She majored in history to begin with but nothing ever really sparked her passion. She took a couple of developmental psych classes though and thought that was really interesting but never thought her brain could handle knowing all about the brain like that.

She started falling into a bad way having not really ever made friends before given that she just..... had Benny and that was who she hung out with all the time. Again, the only interest really shown in her from the opposite sex was sexual interest. She had always struggled with anxiety and depression but like... her brothers were around and they kept her grounded and never let her be alone with her thoughts. She couldn't open up to just anybody and she started falling into a bad way. Just letting herself and her body be used. She had a car, she had a job, she had the money to buy the alcohol and the weed and the molly and go to the parties.

Her studies slipped and she got put on academic probation and her parents said, 'no, you're coming home.' So she did. She transferred after that semester and would start the next school year at the university in her hometown and live at home with her parents. That was when Will got leave to come home (but not Benny, just Will).

He looked so fucking sad. More than sad, he looked haunted. He looked tired. He did not look like her big brother. He did not look like he would kiss her on the forehead and tell her everything would be okay because he didn't look like he believed there was an okay to be.

She switched her major to psychology at orientation. That was the year that Will and Benny brought Frankie home for Christmas. She recognized the same look in their eyes that she had seen in Will's.

She graduated with good grades and went on to get her master's degree and become a licensed therapist. She specializes in DBT (dialectical behavior therapy) (is my fucking nERD COMING OUT RIGHT NOW?).

She moved in with Will because paying half of her big brother's veteran loan mortgage was cheaper than paying rent on her one bedroom apartment. Made cheaper when Frankie moved in and they split it three ways. That way she could save up. She didn't really know what she was saving for -- a house, an amazing vacation, a new car -- but it helped her build a good habit.

Benny will always be her built in best friend, Will too, but they brought her her true best friend. Her and Frankie became so close and she felt like a fucking failure to him when he went to rehab because she couldn't believe she didn't notice. Like with how bad Will's PTSD was. Or Benny's. Because when you're with these people every day and you're emotionally invested in it, you cannot look at it objectively often times until it's too late. That aided in her pulling away from all of them but especially Frankie. She was very depressed and disappointed with herself and dating a fucking ASSHOLE who didn't want her around them anyway and he very easily manipulated her to do just that.

When she moved back in with Will and Benny, Frankie came over a lot. A lot more than he had been when Lizzy wasn't there. He just wanted to make sure she was alright. They turned their little routine back into late night talks long after the movies had gone off and the boys had gone to bed. Often times Will would wake up in the morning and find Fish sprawled across the couch because Lizzy didn't want him driving so late and who is Francisco Morales to argue with Elizabeth Miller?

She married Francisco Morales a few weeks after they became engaged and found out they were pregnant. He told her they could wait, he knew that the 'shot gun wedding' comment Ben made had rubbed her the wrong way but she didn't want to wait any longer to be his wife. They went from taking it very slow to moving very fast. Moved in, engaged, pregnant and married within a month.

[the-witcher]

Hey guys!

I’m graduated yesterday, I’m gonna be back soon. 

But in the meanwhile, please allow me to write a personal post. I know, this page is not about my life, nor about me, but I want to share some of my thougths with you.

If you dont want to read it, please, just scroll past it. :)

When I was around 13-14ish, i started to have weird thougths. I was sad, i was angry, i was mad at the world, mad at kids in my class, at the teachers. But all in all, the world seem to have a black tint in my eyes.

I had depression. Where I live, mental health, mental illnesses doesnt exist. Some of my teachers saw the symptoms, but they thougth it is just teenager stuff. So did I. And everything got worse when I start high school. It was a legit nightmare. And i had darker and darker thougths. 

I lived for fantasy books and games. They made me forget how miserable I was. 

Then the years passed, I turned 19, still with depression, still with no help. My only light was my grandfater, who died after I turned 19. I was lost. I would sit in my room, just staring into nothingness, and thinking, that I cant event kill myself, because i cant burden my family with another funeral. They wouldn’t be able to pay for it. My mom tried to help, she said I should learn a new trade, or I should get a work. I found a graphic designer school, and i got a plan. I was willing to give myself ONE chance. So I enrolled into the school, and i was thinking - if I don’t like it, i will just start working, and when I’m gonna have enough money for a funeral, I will just kill myself.

Well, that was my big plan at the age of nineteen. Not very optimistic, huh?

But, i started to feel as myself during drawing classes - i’m a shitty drawer tho - but it felt so good, doing something I liked. And also, I found my best friend there. Nowadays, when we are watching a series or something, we even start yelling the same thing at the same time to the screen. 

I got better. Also, I figured out it is possible to chase my dreams.

And now, many years have passed. Now I’m 28. I thougth with the interests i have in fantasy, in tales... it’s never gonna matter. I never gonna be able to put it into a good use. Well, I just graduated. From the uni. From Masters. And guess what? My bachelor degree thesis was about the Harry Potter universe, and my master degree thesis was about Sapkowski’s book, The Last Wish.

I did it. Now I have two diplomas. I got the best grade on them. I defended both of my thesis. I got the best grade on them. It is possible. If anyone would’ve told me when I was a depressed teenager, that I’m gonna get into a university, and I’m gonna be able to write two thesis about fantasy world I like, and I’m gonna get two diplomas.... I would’ve rolled on the floor with laugther. But it is possible.

So, this is for anyone, who are struggling, please, remember, that everything is possible. Sure, it’s gonna take time, but please, BE THERE. DON’T GIVE UP. Hang in there, please. You are strong. You can do it. And you are more than enough. <3 

[Also, seek out a professional for help, if you are able. Dare to ask for help!]

[bluegarners]

By popular demand, I have written a Part 2 for mainstay for @viceturtle. Thank you so much @newsical for being an immense help with this!!

Part 1.

This chapter was inspired by this conversation between @bigskydreaming and @fuyunoakegata

ao3

There’s a lot to be said about his stubbornness. 

He thinks everyone has at least some degree of it within themselves. A refusal to move or consent to something. Sure, some don’t hesitate long. They give. They bend. They break. But the stubbornness is in that hesitation. That moment of ‘Am I really doing this? Should I be doing this? Why in the world should I do this?’. It’s about the pause, is what he’s trying to get at, that makes stubbornness so inherent to each individual. 

It breathes in the form of grudges. Arguments. Games of she-said-he-said-they-said. Right or wrong. I told you so’s and I’m not sorry’s. 

Jason does all of those things like it's second nature. He’s not going to pretend like he’s some saint who can understand the other side and reason with them. If he thinks he’s right, it’s not a matter of if the other person is actually right or wrong. He knows he’s right, so it doesn’t matter in the end. He knows what he knows, and if he doesn’t— whatever. Immovable object and all that.

So, yeah. There’s a lot to be said about his stubbornness. 

He calls Red Robin anyway.

“He’s gone.”

“Sorry, what? I need context for this. There’s a lot of people this could apply to—”

“Dick. Dick is gone.”

“Oh. Like, just now he left?”

“I don’t know. Some guy came and took him.”

“As much as I love vague conversations, this isn’t helping me and I don’t understand why you’re calling in the first place.”

“Dick is fucking. Gone. What do you not understand about that.”

“Jesus, I don’t know, Jason. What, is he not supposed to be gone? He said he was going to leave again. He already said ‘hi’ to Damian, so I don’t see why he would stick around any longer.”

“Hm.”

“Fuck me, didn’t you know? This was all just- just some visit for him. Sure, he’ll be back eventually, but fuck knows if he’s actually—”

He hangs up. Pockets his phone. Listens as the rain continues to drench the world outside of his little apartment. His shoulders hurt. There’s a bruise on his chest. Right between his fifth and sixth ribs. He has a split lip. He put ointment on it earlier but it still stings. His knees ache. He has a distant memory of his mother complaining about her knees too. Something about the weather making them act up.

He’s twenty-three.

He’s getting old.

On the table next to him is a box of cigarettes. Low-tar. Filtered. In his right pocket, there’s a lighter he got from someone years ago. He doesn’t know. Maybe he stole it. Found it. 

He pulls it out. Shakes a cigarette out of the thin box. Holds the paper wrapped nicotine between his lips, lifting the lighter and thumbing the flink strike. 

Click. 

He shakes the lighter. Tries again.

Click.

Gotham hasn’t had this much rain in a long time. It’s nearing October. Maybe it’s in season or whatever weather does. He doesn’t know the term.

Click.

It’s raining outside. Jason can see it. There’s raindrops on his window. He can hear it clattering against the fire-escape. Gray and black and mixes of yellow from street lamps below. Jason is inside on the comfort of his couch. Sure, it’s not the best apartment, but it doesn’t leak. The ceiling is fine and he hasn’t had any problems with it before. His face is wet though. He doesn’t know why.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The cigarette falls from his lips and lands with a thud on the stained carpet. The T.V is on. Says the storm over Gotham will last for the next few days. An unprecedented seven inches of rain predicted. The GCPD is advising everyone to stay indoors. Crime is expected to rise with the water levels.

Click.

His clothes are still soaked. He’s probably ruining his couch. He can’t remember if he took his boots off or not. 

Click.

Jason sighs. His chest feels heavy, like someone is sitting on top of him. It’s just him though. Only him in his apartment. He likes having his own space. The neighbors get loud sometimes, but it’s not as if he’s a five star resident either. It’s always been like this. He is…. Alone.

Click.

Dick was gone. Came back. And now, Dick is gone again. Did he do that? Did he drive him away? Is this his fault? Jason doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. Doesn’t know if he doesn’t care at all, but at least the rain is nice to listen to. Yeah. The rain is really nice. Consistent. Steady.

Click.

He didn’t take off his boots.

 ~oOo~

One month is all it takes. 

One month and Nightwing is out spotted in Bludhaven, his photo splashed across every news outlet from Gotham to Metropolis. New Jersey missed its boy in blue and cheers at his return.

Nightwing stays in Bludhaven though. Red Hood stays in Gotham. Just as it used to be. Back to normal. Yeah.

The rain stopped a week ago.

Jason misses the noise.

 ~oOo~

“Won’t you come?”

“No.”

“Please, Master Jason? We would love to have you here. It has been too long.”

“I can’t.”

“I thought you loved turkey. There’ll be plenty of leftovers and I know you’ve been meaning to return the tupperware from last time. It’ll be good for you to leave that apartment of yours.”

“I have better things to do than play nice and talk politics in Brucie Wayne’s mansion. I’m not coming.”

“I know you have your own quarrels with Master Dick, but—”

“It’s not about him. I don’t give a fuck about what he’s doing or what stick Bruce has up his ass this time. I am not walking into the line of fire just to save everyone else an evening of beating around the bush. I. Am. Not. Going.”

“. . . Then won’t you at least visit? I miss you. I worry about you.”

“I’m sorry, Alfred.”

“I am too, my boy.”

  Click.

 Jason spends Thanksgiving out in the Narrows. He’s not rich, doesn’t want to be, but he has money. Plenty he doesn’t need to spend on himself. He goes grocery shopping. Fills two, three carts worth of canned food and rotisserie chickens. Goes home, carries the bags in all at once. Organizes them. 

Single. Partners. Family.

He leaves his apartment. He is not Jason Todd. He is not Red Hood. He’s just some guy out in the Narrows. 

He hands out the bags. Has the decency to look the people in the eyes, knowing he was that street kid once. Seeing his mother in each dirty, beaten face he comes across. Pitying the drunken men and the addicts. They accept his offerings. It would be stupid not to. No one says thank you. He doesn’t need them to.

He goes home. His arms are sore. The bruises have completely faded.

The apartment is empty.

  Click

 Sometimes, there are days where he doesn’t know why. 

That’s a big concept: why? 

He thinks it carries too much weight. Maybe if he had survived past tenth grade, he could’ve signed up for a philosophy or debate class, maybe shed some light on that particular question, but he didn’t. Survive. So, he only has his own mind to ponder the concept. He’s read a couple books. Never fully understood the words he read though. He would’ve liked to, but he didn’t. Understand. 

But it’s up to interpretation right? So, here’s where he’s at.

Jason doesn’t understand or know why sometimes, and it becomes a problem.

He doesn’t understand why he got such a bad hand for parents. Why Bruce didn’t grieve like Jason wanted him to (so desperately yearned for, screamed for, died for). Why someone thought it was a good idea for him to live out a second-still-the-same life. Why he came back so different. (Was he? Different? He doesn’t think he came back wrong but he doesn’t know a lot. Well, he does. But, if he came back wrong then that means he wasn’t right to begin with and he’s always right and if he’s wrong then—). 

He doesn’t know why he punched Dick. He didn’t want to. Not really. But he did. Want to. Badly so. Wanted proof, wanted penance, wanted forgiveness, wanted retribution, wanted that sting that comes with reality and the regret of a little something called mortality. Horse drawn carriage alongside Death, patting the seat next to it. 

Okay, he knows why .

He doesn’t understand why, though.

Jason doesn’t understand why he gets so angry sometimes. It doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel right, like he’s supposed to be feeling something else but he’s just flipped upside down so there’s no point in trying to right himself. He’s always right anyway. Yeah. Yeah.

He doesn’t understand why he says things, why he opens his mouth at all when he regrets them so quickly after. He yells a lot. Raises his voice and spits mean words and cusses worse than anyone else he knows and regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. But he doesn’t learn. Doesn’t rethink it, doesn’t look back and remember the lesson he taught himself. You can’t be taught if you’re always right anyway, so what’s the point? Why regret it when he’s just going to do it again? 

That’s a big word: why.

There are answers attached to the word. Reasons for the question being asked. Explanations and solutions and resolutions.

Jason is good at solving problems, is quick to work around it and get the job done. And a question is just a problem being asked, right? It’s verbal, that’s the only difference, so if he’s such a good problem solver, if he’s such a goddamn good thinker and understands things like philosophy and literature and great big concepts and words—

Why did he do that? Why did he say those things? Why can’t he make up his fucking mind? Why is he the way he is? Why does he just push and shove and drive away everyone and everything? Why did he come back different? Why did he come back wrong? Why didn’t Bruce love him enough to end things? Why was he worth a second chance when he screws up and regrets so much? Why do people still fucking try with him? Why can’t he get one goddamn thing right? Why is he always—

Click.

“Why didn’t you come to dinner?”

Click.

Red Hood is in Gotham. Nightwing is too. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. The air is cold and there’s ice in the wind. It’s a clear night. A quiet frost coats the rooftop and Jason can hear his brother’s footsteps.

“We missed you, you know. Here, Agent A wanted me to give you these.”

Jason turns. Dick is holding out a duffle-cooler. He stands six feet away.

“They’re just leftovers. Turkey, sweet potatoes, casserole, pie; the fixings.”

Jason doesn’t move. Neither does Dick. To anyone else, it would look like a stand-off between Nightwing and Red Hood, neutral ground tensions. They both know it’s not.

It is cold and there is ice in the wind and the rainy season is long past. When they breathe, it erupts out of them in the form of white vapor and Jason can only think of the fact that it looks like smoke. His lighter still doesn’t work. It sits in his right pocket. He wants to take it out. Hear the click. 

“There’s some beer too,” Dick adds softly, voice carried away and twisted in the sharp air. “I have a bottle opener.”

Nightwing walks a few paces away to sit against an A/C unit, shielding himself from the wind. He sets the cooler down beside him, unzipping the duffle and pulling out two bottles of a brand Jason doesn’t recognize, and pats the space next to him. Horse drawn carriage. 

Why is a big concept. A big word. Maybe one of the bigger questions in the repertoire. 

He doesn’t know nor understand why he takes the offered seat. He just does. It feels right to do so. Jason takes the offered bottle too and opens it himself. Hands back the blade. Takes a sip.

It’s cold. It warms him. 

He doesn’t understand:

“Why?”

Dick swirls the alcohol around, bubbles rising to the surface. “Why, what?” 

There’s a lot of things Jason could say. Could ask. He’s had two months to think about a question that would fit the answer he’s trying so hard to get; one that would satisfy the cavern that just keeps getting wider and wider, this empty presence that digs deeper inside him. He likes to think it would be a really intelligent question, one that would stump his all knowing brother; the one with all the answers in the world and a smile to accompany it. Dick had been on this pedestal for as long as Jason can remember. Had been placed so high above himself, even now, it’s impossible for him to reach, fingers a thousand miles away from ever grazing the top.

A lot of people would tell him he’s done this to himself. That the things he decides to do, his actions, what he says to other people and what they do as a consequence; all a product of his own creation. Even the cavern inside of him, filled with stalagmites and cobwebs and so many empty boxes, perhaps he did that to himself. He— He did that. To himself. 

But Jason doesn’t like being wrong. Doesn’t like the fear that invades every nerve in his body when faced with the possibility of being so far off from the mark that it comes back and strikes him in the face. He’s paid the price for being wrong, has the scars and the memories and the stories to prove it, but he’s also been right, over and over again, and it feels so good to be right.

It felt good to punch his brother.

It felt good to have a reason to do so. 

The anger, the fear, the possessive guilt that clung to him in those months where Dick was dead and he was at the wheel, knowing he was going to crash and burn eventually and probably take everyone with him. He played the long game and knew the end result. Jason had fooled himself with the thought of taking Dick’s place, thinking he could climb up that enormous pedestal he had placed there himself all those years ago. Torn down and resurrected today.

He doesn’t have a question though. Not a singular, all encompassing question that would piece together every missing hole inside of him and fill the void. His mother used to tell him he talked too much, that a big mouth like his would one day get him into trouble. She also told him that he was smart and curious and kind and so much more than anything she would ever be able to give him. Jason doesn��t understand why she said so many contrary things.  Wishes he could ask her, have the opportunity to finally get the answers he wanted from her when he left everything behind just for a chance to do so. He can’t though. She died. He died too.

Dick didn’t.

“Why did you leave?” 

His brother stops swirling the contents of his bottle, choosing instead to release a heavy sigh that travels into the air in a thick cloud of tired gray and remorse. “I wasn’t in a good place at the time. Leaving felt like the only good thing left I could do. Batman gave me the mission and I… I took it.”

“What part of letting us all think you were dead was ‘good’? How does that translate to ‘good’ in your world?”

“I wasn’t a part of that decision,” Dick says pointedly, setting down his beer and thunking his head back to rest against the unit. “I was still comatose by the time Batman had broken the news to everyone else. I told you, Hood, I had no choice. Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was all that made sense to do.”

He pauses, a hand coming up to scrub at the sides of his face. “Robin had just… died. Protecting me. I got captured by people with faces I’ve known my entire life and couldn’t escape them. I let myself get hooked up to that- that machine and exposed my identity to the entire world. Do you have any idea what that would’ve done to you all, had I stayed? Everyone knew who Nightwing was under the mask. It would’ve— People would have figured the rest out soon enough. When Batman offered me the opportunity to at least make something right, I took it.”

Something unsettles inside Jason’s chest. Leaking, fracturing. It feels wrong. He feels- “So, what? You left because you felt bad ? Gallivanted off as soon as the opportunity was presented? Oh, I’m sure you’d love to do that again. Hey, Nightwing, tell me, are you feeling bad right now? Would you like a one-way ticket to Spain? I bet that’d make you feel much better.”

Dick frowns, head swiveling to look at Jason. “If that’s how you’d like to picture it, then fine. Yeah, I felt bad about exposing my entire family’s identities. I felt bad about letting down Batman and getting myself taken. I felt bad about dying and not being—”

“Quit fucking saying you died! You didn’t. You put on a good show, I’ll give you that, but having a model that looks just like you being buried in the ground doesn’t qualify as you dying. Get the fuck over yourself.”

A sharp crack meets his words and Jason snaps his head over to see Dick’s bottle broken against the ground, the older man having knocked it over with his hand.

Nightwing’s white lenses are staring at him and Red Hood meets his gaze unflinchingly, if only for the reason that he can’t see his brother’s eyes. There was something to be said about clear eyes in a city full of smog and endless voids, and Jason has looked enough people in the eye to know when to blink and walk away. The dark does not have a gaze to collapse within and yet there is empty white surrounding them.

“Come with me.” 

Why is too big of a word.

 Jason follows anyway.

He’s at the end of his rope in asking questions he knows no one will be able to answer. Knows that the answer he wants is not one anyone is willing to give, or even can give. See, Jason knows why. Has an understanding with the concept in a personal way unlike anyone else will ever have. He knows, understands, gets exactly what the question demands with all of its little fallacies and conundrums and ever so many follow ups. If he could, Jason would shake hands with it, an agreement to never speak a word of its existence ever again. But, how could he ponder the question when he himself cannot bear to fathom his own existence?

Nightwing is already scaling down a fire-escape, duffle-cooler slung over his shoulder, and Jason watches his head disappear below the roof line. He stands up, feet numb and hands feeling bitten, and side glances the broken bottle and the one he’s leaving behind. Even with the bleak, gray weather, the glass twinkles and shimmers in the ice, and, just faintly, Jason can smell the alcohol in the wind. Gotham is a city filled with muck, grease, scum, and litter. There is no difference in adding their own to the ever increasing pile, and yet Jason cannot help amend himself with the thought that at least their trash is beautiful in the cold.

He walks over to the edge of the roof, peering down to where he can see Nightwing traveling up a different, rusted ladder, ready to seek a new vantage point for wherever it is he’s decided to lead Jason. He doesn’t have his helmet on tonight, just a plain domino to hide his face, and the frost cuts against his nose and lips. A shiver runs through his body and Jason slides down into the alleyway below, keeping his brother in eye-sight. Nightwing launches a grapple, clinging to another building about 200 meters away, and Red Hood follows suit, the chill buffering inside of his jacket.

They arrive at one of those motel looking buildings, the outward appearance completely abandoned. Bruce had built this many years ago, one of the first of several safe-houses, and for all intents and purposes, it served to only attract the kinds of people that knew how to keep their mouths shut. The “general office” is where Dick walks into, a separate facility from the boarding rooms. He waits for Jason to enter, having taken a back door of four inches of solid steel, and locks it behind them once the younger has entered as well.

Dick throws the duffle onto one of the chairs inside the room, and rolls his shoulders in a circular motion, a long sigh escaping him. Somewhere, Jason can hear the heater kicking on.

He thumbs his lighter.

Click.

He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be doing, waiting by the door for Dick to make the first move. His brother says nothing though, continuing to move his joints around and rub his hands furiously together. He doesn’t even glance at Jason as he leaves the main room, entering another side door and into, what Jason assumes is, a bathroom. Left alone, Jason keeps his boots on and sits down.

Click.

He waits. Peels off his mask and winces at the pull on his skin. Rubs at his eyes and forehead. Sighs.

Click. Click.

He stares at the domino in his lap, regretting having taken it off. Dick could look him in the eye now. He didn’t— He doesn’t like that. You only look people in the eye when you want to convey something, be it emotion, honesty, or purely how much you don’t give a shit. Jason doesn’t know what it meant when he looked at all those people in the Narrows a few days ago. Doesn’t know what it meant when they looked at him. Who was he, then? He was no one. No one. 

Click.

The bathroom door opens and Dick steps out wearing a thick tank top and a long pair of joggers. Just beyond the cracked doorway, Jason can see his Nightwing suit hung up against a rack. The remnants of irritated skin also pepper his brother’s face, red and splotchy. 

Dick looks up and meets his gaze.

Click.

“This the part where you try to argue yourself right?”

His older brother frowns. “No, it’s not.”

Jason looks away.

Click. Click. Click.

“What’s that in your pocket?”

“Just some old lighter. It doesn’t work.”

“Ah.”

The stiff silence reverberates between them. Normally, when conversation isn’t invited, Dick would go off somewhere and find something to do; something in his head urging him to seek out an offering. It was a tactic the older man used often, something to hold or something else to focus your attention on making an otherwise shaky atmosphere comfortable. When he was still Robin, it was a ploy Jason found himself enjoying sometimes, where Nightwing would meet him on some pre-designated roof carrying hot chocolate or donuts and Jason would gripe to the older man about Bruce’s latest restriction or Batman’s newest growl. Their conversations would last well into the night and it was their secret they kept together, a fall-back to go to when things were too uncertain or days were too long.

Those memories were nice. Fond, even. 

Dick does not have an offering this time.

“Did you believe I was dead?”

Jason sucks in a breath, fingers stilling against his lighter. “Yes.” Pause. “I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Jason fires back. “It was on live television for Christ’s sake, Dick! Half the world watched you die.”

“It’s not as if doctored film has never been done before, even if it was live. At some point, it cut off too. I’ve watched the video myself. My death wasn’t shown on screen.”

“There was audio. I could hear your heart stopping on the machine.”

“There was a lot of fighting going on. It was chaos.”

“Fine, I didn’t see you die and the video was shit. But Bruce told us you were dead. Batman told us you had died.”

“And Batman doesn’t lie.”

“Fuck you.”

Dick sighs, leaning back against one of the walls. “Look, I’m not trying to pick another fight with you. I don’t want to.”

“Then what. Do. You. Want,” Jason grounds out, rising from his chair. “I’m sick of this. I am so sick of not knowing what the fuck is going on with you and Bruce, with all of your little secrets and fake-deaths and—”

“It wasn’t fake,” Dick interrupts, standing his ground. “It may not have been for long, but my heart did stop. I died in that machine, Jason, and I’m upset you guys accepted that.”

“Well, what the fuck else were we supposed to do?” Jason erupts, flinging his arms wide. “Fucking poke at your body until you were alive again? Wait next to your corpse in the morgue with your suit on hand, just in case you decided to wake up?”

“You could’ve at least doubted, ” Dick hisses. Jason can hear the heater still humming. The room is cold though. Bitter. “At the very least, you guys could’ve looked into it. Bruce isn’t the perfect, untouchable beast we’ve made him into. He left a trail. A trail that would have led right to the fake body he created while I was comatose. A trail that would have shown the Batmobile needing repairs it shouldn’t have needed. A trail that would have shown the documents he forged to get me into Spyral. There were so many things, Jason! So many goddamn things that would have shown you guys I wasn’t dead!”

“If you wanted to be found so badly, why didn’t you tell us?” Jason snarls, that leaking fracture in his chest pooling into his lungs. “Why didn’t you say a single word if you were so desperate for someone to notice?”

“I already told you,” Dick says quietly. “I needed to make things right. Bruce offered a way to do it and I needed that; the space, away from everything, everyone, in my life that I knew I had failed. I don’t regret it, and I am sorry it caused so much pain, but—”

Click.

“—was it really so wrong to want someone to save me?”

The leak implodes and Jason stops breathing.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“I know it sounds ridiculous. I should be able to handle these things, but I— there was this moment where I convinced myself that none of what was happening was real and that it was all some nightmare I was watching.”

The blows had stung and burned in the way only rusted metal against bone and flesh could. His left eye was bleeding and his nose had been broken long ago. After the thirtieth strike, Jason had somehow convinced himself it wasn’t real. That he wasn’t there, in that old warehouse, and that he wasn’t some child-soldier-hero being beaten to death by a maniac who laughed and giggled at his pain. 

“When I woke up, I really believed that. I-I was so convinced and then Bruce showed up and gave me this mission and, god, Jason, how could I have ever said no? I had failed. Bruce told me I failed. ”

He remembers that sadistic clock in the corner. Silent up until the last ten seconds. It had its own little tick, a click, and it was the stupidest looking bomb Jason had ever seen, bright red and just any old alarm clock with a few extra wires. A nightmare. All just a nightmare and Jason had begged the universe for him to wake up. For someone, anyone, to save him. For Batman to come swooping in and rescue him from his stupid fucking mistakes but—

Click.

Dick breathes out, a shuttering exhale that rocks him to his core. “Spyral, the mission, everything after… It was my penance, I think. Bruce’s way of forgiving me for failing. There was just no other way, Jason. It was all I had left. I guess I had just hoped someone was still in my corner, even after fucking it all up, you know?”

He does. Jason does know with a clarity that haunts him every morning he wakes up and finds the events unchanged. There are cobwebs and old boxes inside his cavern, the place where his soul used to be, but he knows. He knows he came back wrong. That he came back different. That something inside of him was missing when he opened his eyes to mystic green and an emptiness that plagued him until he came back to Gotham; rage, fear, and a deep sadness taking up that empty space inside of him. He doesn’t know how many times he’s asked himself ‘why?’ only to ignore the answer given to him. Too many. 

And maybe Dick has asked that same question as well. Maybe he has his own cavern deep inside of him, filled with his own fragmented cobwebs and starved crates, ghosts that continue to follow his every step, and whispers that forever ring in his ears. Perhaps the dead carry memories and questions wherever they go, and perhaps that is their sole purpose. They only stay to recount and wish and want and only breach the word “if” and “maybe”. 

But they are alive now. They live. They breathe. 

Jason thought death connected himself to his elder brother, but perhaps it was the voids inside of them both that bound them together. The desperation that clung to their beings, seeking approval, seeking retribution, seeking out anything that’ll make them feel whole once more after having been stripped bare and left in the throes of Death's carriage. This was the tie that bound them together. It wasn’t Bruce. It wasn’t Robin. It wasn’t death.

It was simply the missing pieces inside of them. Brothers not by blood, but by the very nature of their search for meaning. And that was all.

“Yeah,” Jason says, the molten gravity of this answer leaving him boneless. “Okay.”

Dick stares at him with the same clear eyes he’s looked at his younger brother with since day one. Something passes behind those eyes, a shift in the monumental focus that is Dick Grayson’s ever present gaze, and the heater continues to thrum in the background, just as ubiquitous as Gotham always was and always will be for them. There was a fundamental alteration inside them both, something taken from them that can’t be replaced, and Jason feels as though he is not alone anymore. There is another presence, another existence, in his life full of betrayal that shares the same scars and the same emptiness that has captured him since the day Bruce stopped hoping for him.

“Okay?” Dick repeats quietly, and Jason can hear the echo inside his chest. “Is that all?” 

“No,” Jason murmurs, easing back into the chair he had left. “No, it’s not. But I… I can’t do more of this right now. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t either,” Dick sighs, the exhaustion from his own ordeals weighing down his shoulders and causing him to slide down the wall. “It’s— I never wanted to, Jason. You know that, right?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I guess- We deal with it, right?”

Jason wants to laugh. Maybe give a little less weight on his back to the warm air around them, but it sounds like a lot to do. He exhales instead, something maybe interpretable as a tired grin lifting his mouth. “Another time, then?”

Perhaps that is a statement that can’t be guaranteed nor promised. Time is scarce in their world, more so than anyone else's, but it is a scarcity they are well accustomed to. Death had departed in Its carriage, the seat left warm by their presence, but for now, they had left and that was all that really mattered. Why they left, why they need time they don’t have, why the caverns inside of them exist. All questions that have been answered before. Maybe when the sky isn’t gray, or when the rain isn’t pounding against fractured ceilings, they can begin to make amends and go from there. But the safe-house is warm.

It is warm.

“Another time.”

[bloodyshadow1]

Beauyashaweek 2021 day 2 Classical Art: Birthed from Stone

Beauyashaweek 2021 day 2 Classical Painting Art

Technically, the prompt is Classical Painting, but I couldn't really think of anything to write for that so I decided to do Classical Art as the prompt and thought of this. There's more to it, but I decided to cut it short because it was getting too long and not ending. I hope you enjoy my story, if you do please leave a comment, they help more than you know.

It was Saturday, there were a million things Beau would have preferred to be doing on her Saturday, one of the few days off she had, than going to the Zadash Museum of Art. That wasn’t fair, she liked the Museum, she liked the artwork, but she hated that she was here on an assignment for school rather than because she wanted to which meant she hated the Museum currently.

Beau had only taken Art Appreciation 110 on her best friend Jester’s suggestion. The blue tiefling art major thought it would be fun to have her best friend in the class she was TAing and assured Beau that it was an easy class being a 100 level. Beau didn’t mind an easy A, she was a double major history and sports medicine in her senior year, she figured she might as well since the rest of her course load was killer.

Unfortunately, unlike most of the classes Beau had taken though her time at Z.U. Art Appreciation 110 wasn’t a blow off class that she could just take the tests and write papers to pass with an A. The teacher Mr. Artagan was more eccentric than most of the faculty at Z.U. full of new age ideas how to run his class. No tests at all and only a few papers, which would be fine for most people, but the fact that participation was worth 60% of her grade made the class a living hell for Beau. He thought that children (despite them all being college students) should be rewarded for showing initiative, not just memorizing facts, something that Beau relied on. She was a smart girl who read the assigned reading before the class had even started hoping it would mean she didn’t have to show up for class only to have Jester’s hippy mentor ruin that dream the first day.

Artagan, as he liked them to call him, no mister for him, was one of those ‘cool’ teachers who thought they were changing the world in their 100 level course that contained mostly freshmen trying to get their gen ed credits out of the way. The teacher who wore an actual green cloak to class everyday that clashed horribly with his tangle of reddish orange hair, but went well with his inhuman green eye, knew he was put on this earth to reach the kids. Beau hated him instantly and thought if not for his laziness, his biggest weakness other than a wicked case of ADHD that no amount of Adderall would fix, he would probably be a cult leader. Luckily for the class, Jester took her job as his TA seriously, or at least as serious as Jester could leading a class taught by Mr. Artagan about appreciating art, so she was at least a competent teacher when the actual teacher decided to take a nap in the middle of a lecture or jump out the window to chase a bird. She would call on Beau whenever she could because she knew her best friend at least knew the information even though she wouldn’t volunteer the information willingly. It saved Beau’s average from tanking in class, but by the time the semester came to a close it didn’t look good, Beau was sitting at a low C which again, wouldn’t be bad for most people in their blow off class, but was horrible for Beauregard Lionett, the disgraced daughter of the Lionett wine family in Kamordah.

Without getting into it, Beau’s relationship with her family, especially her dad Thoreau, was horrible to be kind. She was only at Z.U. due to both academic and athletic scholarships, and losing one would mean she wouldn’t have enough money for her final semester, and she needed at least a B in all her classes if she wanted to graduate. Technically she would still be able to graduate, but her diploma would remain as property of the school until her debts were paid up, which meant she couldn’t get a job with her diploma unless she lied on her resume. And while, no one could say Beauregard Lionett was against lying, she wasn’t a self destructive teenager anymore she knew it would only hurt her in the long run.

Luckily, having her best friend as her T.A. meant Jester begging Mr. Artagan to let Beau have some extra credit so she could pass. Artagan agreed and told her to write a paper on how a piece of art makes you feel. If Beau didn’t desperately need to pass this stupid class she would have thrown it in his face, but instead as a self destructive adult who at least was aware of her money problems, she gritted her teeth and took the extra credit assignment.

Beau had been to the museum at their school a bunch of times, she had given tours for a bit as a work study gig until the people in charge realized how bad she was with people. But there was something about being forced to go there for an assignment that soured the whole thing for her.

“Let's check out the Emon exhibit first Beau,” Jester said taking her and dragging her to the Tal’Dori section. Beau didn’t mind it, but there was too much…, cleanness in the artwork of their neighbors to the West. Tal’Dori was really similar to Wildemount in a lot of ways, without the whole equally large enemy neighbor country that you’ve been in a Cold War with forever. Emon had its own set of problems, but propaganda or not, whatever Beau read made the other continent sound like a less shitty version of the Dwendalian Empire.

Still, the paintings and sculptures were nice enough to look at even if she didn’t have Jester’s excitement. There were a lot of paintings of naked people in some of the exhibits, which Beau enjoyed since there weren’t a lot of men as the subject. She had to hand it to the old masters, they might have been a bunch of old pervs, but they painted a pretty dame without her clothes. Even if they did give their works pretentious names like, “the Sin of Sarenrae,” or “the Seducer of Nations,” as if the women who were the subjects were at fault for being beautiful enough for men to want to paint them naked.

Eventually Jester got bored, it didn't take long, and they moved on to the other wings of the museum. “I’m gonna check out the Xhorhasian exhibit for a bit Jester,” Beau said, needing some alone time. She loved her best friend, but the girl could talk forever on her worst day, a day surrounded by hundreds of years of artwork around her meant she hadn’t stopped since Beau mentioned her paper.

The Xhorhasian exhibit was small and quiet, they were technically at peace, legally and all that, but two powerful countries can’t be neighbors without a lot of animosity. With only the Ashkeeper Peaks between them, there had been a long cycle of wars and ceasefires between the two nations that could break at any moment. That meant not a lot of people congregated in this out of the way exhibit. Most of the artwork and relics were probably technically stolen. Beau wasn’t happy about that despite being a citizen of the Empire, born and raised in Kamordah, less than a day from Zadash.

Maybe after she graduated she could break into the museum and somehow send the stolen goods back home where they belonged. Jester would probably be into it, and Veth wasn’t exactly opposed to petty theft or grand larceny. But that was for Future Beau with her bachelor’s degree to think about. For now, since they were here, Beau was going to enjoy the things from the Empire’s oldest enemy and learning about them, despite how they were procured.

Technically, the Empire wasn’t enemies with Xhorhas, they were enemies with the Krynn Dynasty, the country that had been the dominant power in the Wastes of Xhorhas for thousands of years. There were other people living in Xhorhas that were roped into the conflict, or so Beau heard, most of the stories from the East were about the Cricks or Krynn and the rest were hardly mentioned at all.

As Beau walked around the empty exhibit, for the most part it was bleaker than the other exhibits. Xhorhas seemed like a dreary place, all their artwork lacked the color of other nations artwork. Most of the paintings, few of them as there were, tended to be battle scenes of Drow soldiers in their dark insect like armor tearing through Empire soldiers like paper, it's a wonder citizens of the Empire never come to look at this exhibit. The rest was mostly pottery or weapons, the placards said they were souvenirs from survivors of perilous expeditions into enemy territory. Beau had read them all before.

But surprising her, there was something new in the exhibit. In the center of the exhibit, in a place of honor was a statue with lights pointing down on it. It was made of white marble and depicted the most beautiful woman Beau had ever seen. She was large, tall and wide, if she wasn’t made of stone she would tower over Beauregard, with arm muscles larger than Beau’s head. Long wild hair that the sculpture had managed to get across in the marble. She wasn’t just standing still either, she was swinging a sword like some goddess of battle. The massive feathery wings exploding from her back, that almost looked soft to the touch despite being made out of rock, made her seem even more divine. But even more than the wings, Beau was drawn to her eyes, they were perfect. Despite being just another part of the woman carved from the white stone, they seemed so dark, holding so much anger and sadness that it made Beau’s chest hurt to look into them, but she didn't have the willpower to look away.

The only flaw Beau could find in the sculpture of the beautiful woman, was the smile. Unlike the rest of the statue, the smile was just off. It was just too plain. The rest of the work from the woman, from the way the marble simulated how her arm muscles tensed like a real person would when swing a sword to fight, to her large soulful eyes, to the massive two-handed sword that looked like it was a real metal blade turned to stone, was the work of a master. Yet the smile was clearly the work of an armature, it looked like the smiles Beau had drawn on posters to look extra goofy to passersby. It didn’t fit such a beautiful woman, especially when the rest of her was clearly ready for battle.

It looked so off Beau immediately looked at the placard to find out if it had been damaged in shipping and the archeologist or smuggler did their best to fix it with a smile. The sign didn’t say anything about the smile, just that the sculpture had been found 3 years ago in an ‘expedition’ in the south of Xhorhas. The title of the piece was ‘Angel of Beauty,’ which made Beau gag. Sure the woma-, the sculpture was beautiful, but it was such a boring shitty title for such an awesome bitch. She was wielding a sword ready to chop someone to bits and ready to take on a whole army, Angel of Beauty was such a generic title for a real work of art. Skimming the rest of the paragraph for any more info, Beau learned the locals called the work ‘The Orphanmaker,’ before the archeologist procured the work.

Beau thought it was a bit better, at least more metal and fitting for such a bad bitch, but it still didn’t fit the woman or the sculpture in Beau’s unasked for opinion. Still, Beau couldn’t let her dumb lesbian brain that made her have a crush on the only more unattainable woman in the world than Jester, stop her from getting her paper done. She took a picture of the placard to get a reference and took a few more of the statue itself from as many angles as she could. You weren’t technically supposed to take pictures of the artwork, but no one was around and Beau needed the pictures for her project…, and nothing else.

Still, the more time she spent with the statue the more Beau was enthralled. The more she stared at it, from every angle it felt like the woman was ready to come alive at any second. That one second Beau would be staring into eyes of white marble and then she would blink alive the next. The skill of the sculptor had practically tricked Beau into thinking the woman would have a pulse if she touched her, like she wasn’t carved out of stone.

It got to the point where Beau, who would never break the law, especially when it came to stolen art, got so fed up she decided to touch the statue just to prove to herself it wasn’t a real live person. Just a quick tap on the arm to prove to herself that the woman wasn’t alive, that’s all it would take to make her crazy thoughts quiet for a bit.

Unfortunately, or perhaps very fortunate given the outcome, Beau was wrong, very wrong. The moment she touched what would be the flesh of the woman, not her sword, or hair, or clothes, the moment her finger touched the skin on the woman’s arm, it felt warm. So warm that Beau couldn’t believe it, until the woman’s pulse woke her up. She tore her hand away like the statue was made of fire, but even as she did, she could see cracks forming in the sculpture starting from where she touched the woman on the arm.

“Shit,” Beau yelled, as she slammed her back into the wall, she didn’t even know she had backed away that far. She desperately tried to search for glue or anything that she could use to fix the crack she made, but the cracks only got bigger. By the time Beau looked back, they had shot down the woman’s arm and were coming down her body, and Beau only had time to swear every curse she knew in the five languages she spoke fluently (which you would think would take a while, but Beau had always been quick with her mouth and was well practiced with it and cursing) before the statue exploded.

The room was full of dust clouds and the only sound other than the hammering of Beau’s heart was the sound of a large woman breathing heavily. It only took a moment for the dust to clear and give Beau a good look at the Orphan Maker. On a whole, she was pretty much the same as the statue, same massive frame, same gorgeous face that Beau had gone gaga for, same strong arms holding the now sharp steel blade, and older Xhorhasian garb, not from the Krynn Dynasty. Now that she wasn’t a statue anymore though, there was a big change, even if she was mostly the same, there was a big difference between a beautiful woman carved out of white marble and a real gorgeous flesh and blood woman.

Her skin was pale, almost as pale as the white marble, but the rest of her and her clothes had splashes of color, mostly black, but not white stone. The biggest change though, other than being a living person of course, was her wings. When she was a statue the wings on her back had been white and feathery, now, they were black and skeletal. As if they had been burnt to cinder’s but still attached to her. She has heterochromatic eyes, one is light green, the other is violet, they are filled with rage, but it’s not directed at Beau, the woman who burst from the marble is just angry.

“Where am I,” the strange woman demanded once the dust cleared enough to see Beau.

“The Zadash University Museum,” Beau said trying to stay on the good side of this strange Amazonian goddess that just flexed out of a statue.

“Zadash,” the woman said slowly, like it was a foreign word. “That is a is a name from beyond the mountains,” she asked more than said.

“Yeah,” Beau nodded, “or I mean I suppose. We’re on the other side of the mountains from Xhorhas if that’s what you mean.”

“Then I am a long way from home,” the strange woman said seeming to calm down.

“Are you a spy from Xhorhas,” Beau asked, immediately realizing how stupid that sounded. Beau could handle herself in a fight, but this woman was massive and had a sword almost the size of her. It would be really hot if it was in a movie or a book instead of real life.

“No,” the woman shouted, “I am from Xhorhas, but I am no spy.”

“Alright,” Beau said, throwing her hands up to show she meant no harm, “I believe you.”

“I think…, I am lost,” the woman said calming down, her voice was a lot softer than Beau would have guessed when she wasn’t angry. “I was in my homeland, I was fighting something and then…, nothing.”

“Well, maybe you could start with something you do remember,” Beau asked, trying to keep things calm. “Do you remember your name?”

“Yasha,” Yasha apparently answered after a moment, “Yasha Nydoorin. And I think I need your help.”

It probably wasn’t a great idea to agree to this, she didn’t know Yasha much other than she was big, gorgeous, and popped out of a marble statue. But despite her well above average intelligence, she was also a lesbian with a dumb lesbian brain sometimes, and all she could say was “sure.” Maybe she’ll let Jester drag her off to the museum if this happens all the time.

[zestyq]

The Flavours Of Life - A Sims 4 Legacy Challenge

Sims tend to have a lack of personality. A lack of flavour. But I'm here to fix it. Are you tired of sims challenges either being too short or having wayyy too many goals to incorporate your own creative freedom? Then read ahead!

General rules;

1 - No cheats and cheaty mods. Sims tends to get boring if you cheat money, careers and skills. 2 - This challenge is about having freedom and being flexible. So feel free to edit some of the generation rules for your liking in your playthrough. 3 - Stick to a normal or long lifespan. 4 - Design your sims with the general colours/styles of the generations. 5 - The whole point of this challenge is to have fun so if you don't think you're going to enjoy a gen, skip it!

Generation One, Vanilla;

New town, new life and new opportunities. You grew up with privilege and have never had to work for yourself. Until one day, your parents pass away suddenly and you find they left nothing to you in your will. In a rags to riches style, you have to build yourself up from nothing. Eventually, you gain back your white picket fence lifestyle and marry, then have kids. You care for and love your kids - you want the best for them. But one day you make a grave mistake...

Traits: Materialistic, Snob and Perfectionist.

Aspiration: Succesful Lineage.

Career: Your choice, excluding high intensity jobs.

-Max out a career of your choice.

-Have at least two kids.

-Master parenting and whatever skill(s) correspond with your job.

- Complete at least half of your aspiration

- Have a one night stand with an evil sim, get pregnant and lie to your partner that it's their child.

Generation two, Strawberry;

You've always seemed so sweet and... charming. So charming you can practically manipulate anyone into liking and trusting you. Okay let's face it - you're evil. (I wonder who you got that from). You've been married so many times it's hard to count. It's a shame your relationships never work out. Although you'd prefer to commit crimes all day, you have a reputation to uphold. So you buy a bakery! Some say the special ingredient is love. You know it's much more sinister.

Traits: Evil, Romantic and Foodie.

Aspiration: Serial Romantic.

Career: Baking Business.

-Have a pristine reputation.

-Have multiple of your wives/husbands die under "suspicious circumstances" and take their money

-Have at least a three star business.

-Master the Baking, Charisma and Mischief skills.

Generation three, Bitter;

Growing up your parental figures came and went. Nothing was permanent. Which is why you guess stability never come easy to you. The only thing that remained consistent throughout your life was your hatred of your parents. As a teen or young adult you run away from home at the dead of night and start a new life. With no set goals or plans in your life you jump quickly from one thing from another. You live all over the globe during your life but you finally settle down in the tropical Sulani. Oh, did I forgot to mention you hate children?

Traits; Non-Committal, Hates children and Self-Absorbed.

Aspiration: Beach Life

Career: Any four careers + a term or so of uni.

-Reach level 2 of four careers.

-Go to uni for a degree but drop out sometime during the first term.

- Max two skills and reach level five in another.

-Get pregnant by accident and have twins. (You may cheat)

-Have maxed out hate for at least one parent.

-Get a Nanny for your children.

Generation 4, Salt OR Pepper;

(During this generation you get a choice as who you will play as)

Option 1 - Pepper,

You and your twin sibling have always been polar opposites but that doesn't mean you can't be close! You were always the rebellious one. Sneaking out to parties, underage drinking and hiding your soulmate in your room. Whatever you were doing it certainly wasn't something good. At school you never tried and got an F Grade at high school. But when P.E came around... you were the star of the show. Sports was your natural calling. And after a long day of exercising, you liked to help yourself to a drink.

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Active, Hot-Headed.

Aspiration: Soulmate.

Career: Bodybuilder Branch of the Athlete Career

-Max the fitness and mixology skill

-Complete the Soulmate aspiration.

-Reach level ten of the athlete Bodybuilder Branch

-Have an alternative style for the majority of your life.

-Have max friendship with your twin.

-Meet your soulmate as a child and stay together forever.

Option 2- Salt,

You and your twin have always been close friends but that didn't stop you from feeling jealous of their perfect relationship. During school you always had your head in a book and at the library one day you meet someone to love. But it didn't work out. For a lot of your life you were stuck in a loveless relationship that ended in divorce and kids to look after. You wrote romance novels in hopes that one day the stories would come true and you'd find that special someone to call your "soulmate". And eventually, you do! In the last years of your life you meet your special someone...

Traits: Romantic, Gloomy and Bookworm.

Aspiration: Bestselling Author.

Career: None. You can only get money by self-publishing books.

-Max out the writing skill and logic skill

-Complete the Bestselling Author aspiration

-Meet your first love at the library during "Book Club"

-Have a divorce as an adult.

-Have max friendship with your twin

-Marry "the one" as an elder

Generation 5, Spicy:

Growing up you always wanted to be the centre of attention. You always had a fiery and unpredictable personality. Sometimes you'd fabricate stories just so your parents would feel bad for you. As you got older, nothing changed. You became a famous actor. People around the globe loved you and the roles you'd play. One night you spot a paparazzi and the flirtations began. At first you thought it'd be nothing; you were used to pretending to like someone. As the night progressed, you and the paparazzi hooked up and a child was conceived. Terrified of what the public would say you quit acting, become a stay at home parent and marry the paparazzi.

Traits: Self-Assured, Ambitious and Erratic.

Aspiration: Master Actor.

Career: Actor, Stay at Home Parent.

-Master the acting and cooking skill.

-Reach at least level 5 in the acting career.

-Complete at least half of the acting aspiration.

-Marry a paparazzo.

-Become a three star celebrity.

Generation 6, Orange:

You always knew your parent loved you but you could tell they'd rather be famous and living a life of luxury. They signed you up for drama club in the hopes you'd fulfil their dreams but you'd rather be playing with your doll family at home. Babies. Something about them was so cute to you. You grew up and had a large family. You managed to balance work and family perfectly. You gave your children full unconditional love and they returned it. Despite being unwanted as a child, you made sure your children felt belonging. One day it all changed. One of your children passed away in a fire and you were distraught. But you wouldn't let them be forgotten; every week you made at least one painting dedicated to them.

Traits; Creative, Family Oriented and Paranoid.

Aspiration; Big Happy Family.

Career; Painter.

-Master the painting skill.

-Complete the Big Happy Family aspiration.

-Make at least one painting a week after your child passes.

-Have 5 or more children.

-Attend drama club as a child.

Generation 7, Sour:

Your childhood was fairly uneventful. Except from the fire incident... But you don't talk about it. You prefer life to have a kick to it. You spend your life seeking danger. Some days you'll be climbing the treacherous Mt.Komorebi, others you'll be exploring the ancient tombs of Selvadorada. Whatever you're doing it's sure to be fun. For a while you settle down and have a child but as soon as the child is old enough to journey with you - it's back to the thrill. Life doesn't wait. Neither do you.

Traits; Adventurous, Loves Outdoors and Slob.

Aspiration; Jungle Explorer

Career; None. You sell fossils and artifacts.

-Max the Seladoradian culture and archaeology skill.

-Complete the Jungle Explorer aspiration.

-Reach the top of Mt.Komorebi.

-Have a child with a Seladoradian Native.

Generation 8, Sweet:

You grew up in a wild family. You often went on wild journeys with your parent but you didn't really want to live that life. Music was your passion. Anything musical was perfect to you. Through joy, sorrow and hope you played music. You became an entertainer and married your co-worker. You sang soft lullabies to your children when they cried and serenaded your partner when things were getting romantic. After a long days work, you come home and see your partner in bed... with the maid! Do you forgive and forget? Or do you divorce?

Traits; Music-Lover, Good and Jealous

Aspiration; Musical Genius

Career; Entertainer

-Max out two instrument skills and singing.

-Max out the entertainer career

-Donate to charity once a week.

-Adopt two children from less fortunate homes.

-Catch your partner cheating on you

FYI;

This challenge is my first one so please don't hate. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Also this challenge is loosely based off of the not so berry challenge by lilsimsie. Go subscribe to her :)

[klutzyzombie]

Image Impaired

Summary: From a young age, Bakugou Katsuki is told his hearing will continue to fade with use of his explosive quirk. He's given hearing aids to help when he reaches high school but refuses to wear them because what pro hero wears those? It takes some red-headed courage to convince him otherwise.  Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Eijirou Kirishima, Ashido Mina, Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou (KiriBaku) Rating: General Warnings: N/A Words: 6,701 Notes: So this is my first official fic for this fandom and I don't exactly have anyone to proofread this so I sincerely apologize if it's out of character and for the errors! This was written from my own experiences with going deaf and requiring hearing aids and how I felt about it when I was first told. It seemed like something Bakugou may have also felt so you'll have to excuse me projecting~

**Please note that when a character is signing, it will be italicized.

Ao3: [click here!]

He started losing his hearing in grade school. He had been about eight when his family took him to get his ears checked when his grades slipped and he continued to miss things said at home. From there he was bounced from doctor to doctor but the general consensus was the same; his quirk was causing him to go deaf. It made sense really; continued exposure to loud constant boom’s. Like playing a rock concert next to the amp turned up all the way. It was bound to happen the second his quirk manifested and the decision to be a pro hero was made.

They recommended easing down on use of his quirk unless the situation called for it to try and put off the inevitable, but that wasn’t about to happen. Pro heroes in training needed to have master over their own quirks! So they also suggested hearing aids which Katsuki was against. What pro hero wore those tacky things?! For now, his hearing loss was manageable, but if Katsuki was keen on becoming a hero (and he was; even eight year old Katsuki knew this) then the doctors expected his hearing to be practically gone by the time he was in his late teens.

So the Bakugou family learned sign language as a safety net and as he grew, his hearing faded more and more as expected. It became Katsuki’s new normal for things to be a little jumbled and almost like people were talking underwater if they weren’t close enough or if they soft spoken. Maybe that was why as got older he had a tendency to yell constantly, his voice growing a little more gruff with age as well. He’d also picked up on lip reading which was immensely helpful in middle school as he refused to tell a teacher he couldn’t hear them or ask to sit in the front. It wasn’t going to be the future he imagined when he was a kid, but hey, he was Bakugou fucking Katsuki! He wasn’t about to let something like hearing loss stop him from becoming the next number one hero! He was nothing but goal driven from a young age, refusing to tell anyone about what he deemed to be his biggest weakness, preferring to make due with his lip reading. When his acceptance into U.A. was announced, his parents made a decision and while he fought tooth and nail – literally – he was fitted for a pair of hearing aids.

U.A. was everything he had hoped it would be as a child (though he could have done without the damn nerd also getting in and sitting right behind him) and much to his utter chagrin, he even made a few friends despite the fact that he’d never refer to them as such. They were more like a few idiots who wouldn't know how to fuck off if their lives depended on it. One such of these idiots and the biggest offender was Kirishima who, from day one, seemed to latch on to Katsuki. It was annoying at first; sure he had ‘friends’ in middle school but they were more afraid of him and only followed him as some sort of leader or popularity magnet. Kirishima just- liked him. For him! There wasn’t any fear and he damn sure wasn’t getting popular by hanging around Katsuki. If anything that was reversed since the stupid idiot seemed to be friends with just about everyone to varying degrees.

And Katsuki wanted to hate it- hate HIM because he didn’t need friends let alone overly enthusiastic idiot friends and with Kirishima deeming him ‘friendly’, the rest of the idiot brigade followed suit. Before Katsuki knew what had happened, Kaminari had wormed his way into his and Kirishima’s study sessions, Ashido had started tugging on his arm in her bubbly excitement at something or another, and Sero had taken too confining in him about whatever trouble had been on his mind. Bakugou Katsuki had actual honest to god friends and it was Kirishima’s fault. It hit him one night after moving into the dorms after he’d been dragged to watch a movie in Kirishima’s room. Like, forcefully dragged and as they sat there, watching as Iron Man and Captain America did some epic team up move on some aliens, he realized he was actually enjoying himself around these idiots.

He wasn’t supposed to be fond of the dunces. He didn’t need anyone and after the hero exam he and Todoroki failed, he tried to go back to how things were. Katsuki didn’t need friends and Kirishima and Kaminari passing while he failed was proof of that. So he separated himself from them. Well, he tried to at least. It wasn’t easy to do since the clingy idiots couldn’t take a hint if he stapled it to their faces. It was exhausting and when he did finally manage it, about a week into his granted alone time he was miserable and angry and ended up back on Kirishima’s bed while he and Kaminari played some game on Kaminari’s Switch.

He couldn’t shake the idiots he unwillingly befriended and he whole heartedly blamed Kirishima for all of it. On a rare weekend home, he was bitching to his mom about the annoyances who kept blowing up his phone with their stupid ‘Bakusquad’ group text. Mitsuki was sitting at the kitchen table with designs and fabrics spread out while Katsuki ranted on. She hadn’t known her comment about him being popular due to his phone’s continued dinging would lead to this, but now it was hard to stop the small smile building as he went on and on about them. Something he pointed out to her with annoyance.

‘Sorry, it’s just nice to know you have actual friends! Finally.’

“I can fuckin’ hear you, hag!” Katsuki snapped.

‘Are you sure? I don’t see your hearing aids in.’

His response to that was to simply flip her off as he marched out of the room. “I’m not going to wear those fuckin’ things.”

“Katsuki!” They had this argument so many times now he could almost recite it word for word. It was what she always said since the moment they picked up the stupid devices. 'Wear them!' 'Are you wearing them?' 'How is training with the hearing aids working out?' Every damn time she called it was the same song and dance and it was getting more and more irritating every time she brought the damn things up! He could picture her pushing away from the table and marching after him so it wasn’t a surprise when her raised voice shouted after him. “We spent good money-“

“’-on those things so the least I could do is wear them’! Get a new speech! I don't fuckin' need them because I can still hear just fine!” There was an uncharacteristic pause after that and he wheeled around to glare at her, to see what she was trying to prove, only to see Mitsuki giving him a pointed look. “What?!”

‘I said if that was true, then you would be able to hear me.’ She signed while speaking. Well, he assumed she was. Her lips were moving and he could hear a faint sound that was in teh same tone as her voice, but couldn't quite make out the words. Katsuki stood there, red eyes narrowed at her which was a look she was mirroring back at him for all of a few seconds before she sighed, expression softening. ‘Katsuki, it’s gotten worse since you started high school. I’ve been practically yelling at you just so you’d hear me since you got home.’ The look on his face must have been horrified because his mom’s melted from fond annoyance to one of almost-pity. She lifted her hands to sign something else but he quickly turned and marched back up to his room to finish getting ready to head back to the dorms. He hated that look on her. Hated that look on anyone and he didn't need her to see that she was right. That his hearing really had gotten worse. It would make sense that it had, he guessed. He went from only training with his quirk a few times a week to preserve his hearing to using it about daily for hours on end.

So then why hadn’t he noticed it?

He guessed the whole ‘it’s a gradual process’ thing could be a factor and if he thought about it, he was having a harder time hearing Aizawa now. Deku’s muttering had also seemed to bother him less as of late and it damn sure wasn’t because the nerd had suddenly stopped the habit he’d had since they were kids. His hearing really had faded drastically in just under a year and that was a reality check.

One he also apparently wasn’t great at hiding because a few days back in school had Kirishima draping an arm across his shoulders in the locker room. He had a habit of doing that no matter what murderous look was on Katsuki's face and today when he went to shoot a glare at the red head - one he knew would just be ignored- he was met with a concerned look on Kirishima's face. “Yo man, you good? You’ve seemed kinda…”

“Extra murder-y.” Kaminari supplied.

Katsuki and Kirishima shot him a look, Katsuki’s much more threatening, but he went on. “Is everything alright? You know you can always talk to me!”

“Fuck off, I’m fine.” Was his eloquent reply and he knew Kirishima wasn’t convinced, but the red head knew enough about him to know to drop it. The look that now shifted across his face was proof he knew something was up, but he turned back to talking about some new show with Kaminari and Sero to make sure nobody else tried to take the opportunity to ask Katsuki about his oh so chipper mood. Kirishima was good at reading him like that. He seemed to always know what Katsuki meant or needed in the moment. It would be endearing if it wasn’t also equal parts annoying. Sometimes he wished the idiot would remember how damn powerful Katsuki was! But then again, Kirishima was also the perfect foil to him.

He watched as said boy grinned and laughed at something Kaminari had said, head tilting back slightly from the force of it. He was so stupidly friendly and he seemed to really want to be Katsuki’s friend if not his best one. He liked to proclaim as such at least and he guessed it was true to a degree. Kirishima knew him better than anyone else probably did and just how that happened should be concering. Just when had he allowed the idiot to figure him out so well?

Katsuki looked back at his locker with a huff, not about to give Kirishima another reason to ask about his mood again. He looked at his mask and the orange and black wing tips behind it. Looked at the orange X crossing the otherwise all black uniform. Looked at the matching heavy-duty boots and belt that housed mini versions of his quirk. Looked at how the entire ensemble represented everything he wanted to become and how his stupid hearing was likely to take all of that away.

He slammed the locker shut with more force than needed, meeting Kirishima’s gaze as he glanced over at the sound. “Meet me after dinner.” He said simply, walking off before he could see or hear the red head’s reaction.

---

Katsuki was a proud person and that was a fact that was well know. He never needed and never asked for help. He was self-sufficient and refused to lean on others to get to where he wanted to be. So reaching out to Kirishima about this was going to be a challenge. Said teen had been in his room for going on ten minutes, silently watching and waiting, sitting in his deskchair backwards as Katsuki glared daggers at the ground. It would be unnerving to have the talkative bastard so quiet if it wasn’t once again proof how well Kirishimia knew him; knew whatever was on his mind was heavy enough to make him clearly agitated and extra moody. This fact had him glance up so red eyes could meet red and at Kirishima’s concerned but patient face, he sighed and looked away.

“I can barely fuckin’ hear.” He admitted like it was the biggest secret he’d ever be forced to admit because to him, it was.

“Yeah?” Kirishima sounded confused but not in the way he had been anticipating. He was confused like you had just told him Ashido’s favorite color was pink. Like what Katsuki had just said was common knowledge.

This had Katsuki whipping his head back to look at him. “’Yeah’?! The fuck does that mean?!”

Kirishima tilted his head like he did when he could tell Katsuki was upset with him but didn’t know why. “It means yeah? Like, yeah I know?”

It was Katsuki’s turn to be confused now. “You know?”

“Dude, if it was supposed to be a secret, your awful at hiding it!” Kirishima laughed and he glared at him for it. This was supposed to be his close kept secret! His weakness nobody, except for maybe Deku, knew! Kirishima seemed to understand his inner turmoil (because of course he would) and gave the teen a small smile, moving to rub the back of his neck. “Well, maybe it just was to me? I dunno, man. I noticed from the quirk assessment we had on the first day.”

“How?!” His voice sounded more confused than annoyed.

Kirishima shrugged and moved his toe against the floor a bit to slightly spin the chair he was sitting on. A nervous habit he’d get when he was the center of attention, Katsuki noted. “You just weren’t responding to anyone. First I thought you were just kinda an asshole and ignoring people, ya know?” He looked back up at him with a grin. “But then when Aizawa-Sensei would repeat something louder and you’d respond and I saw your quirk in action, I guess I just put two-and-two together. I didn’t know it was some big secret though.”

“It’s not!” Katsuki was quick to snap but that wasn’t really true. It clearly was or his heart wouldn’t have dropped when he realized Kirishima had figured it out within hours of meeting him. He huffed to himself, not wanting to snap at Kirishima over his own overlook and looked away again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Does anyone else know?”

Kirishima hummed in thought, looking up at the ceiling. “I think all of us kinda know somethings up to varying degrees.” He must have heard the speed at which Katsuki whipped his head around because Kirishima quickly clarified, “I mean those of us in the squad. Kaminari talks louder when he’s around us. Ashido and Sero started too as well after they hung out with us for a while. I suppose it also helps that the four of us are naturally loud anyway, but they definatley talk up and more clear when they're with us.”

Katsuki just looked at him stunned. They had all figured it out? And they hadn’t ever commented on it? Made it a point to make a joke about it? Tease him about it like they endlessly teased him about everything else? They had just started to talk louder for his sake?! Here he thought they were just obnoxious assholes…

Kirishima seemed to notice his lack of anger and response and crossed his arms over the back of the chair he was sitting on, resting his head on them as he studied Katsuki carefully. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”

Katsuki shot him a glare before huffing and looking away again. A nonverbal yes before he sighed, eyes closing. His mind was still reeling from the knowledge that not only did the other idiots figure it out, but that they had all apparently silently just decided to not talk about it and simply speak up and clearer so he could hear them all better. He had a plan going into this. He was going to tell Kirishima he was hard of hearing, tell him he’d known it was coming, and how he was supposed to wear hearing aids. He had planned for questions and for almost snapping at Kirishima for giving him a pitying look before quickly covering it up because Kirishima knew he hated pity. He had expected this conversation to go the opposite direction it had gone and now he was at a loss.

“They…" How was he supposed to proceed now?! "I’m supposed to wear hearing aids.” He blurted out quietly, almost hoping Kirishima didn’t hear him.

But of course he did. “So why don’t you?”

“Are you stupid?!” Kirishima frowned. It wasn’t pity on his face but almost like disappointment? That look was somehow worse and Katsuki quickly looked away from him again. “I can’t be number one like that.”

“So you’d rather just not be at your best then?”

Wellp. Anger was back. Least that was familiar over the weird sensation knowing his friends never brought up his hearing had left him with. He jerked back to face Kirishima, on his feet before he even registered he’d moved. Kirishima just looked at him with same look he had on earlier. “What?!”

“You can’t be your best if you aren’t even going to work with something that improves your skills.” Kirishima repeated, apparently oblivious to the absolute inferno of anger his words had lit. “Dude, you can’t stand there and tell me with a straight face you’d be at your absolute best going into situations as you are when you could be going in with your senses heightened. That would be like fighting with one hand tied behind you back all the time! It doesn’t make any sense, man!”

Katsuki stood where he was, keeping Kirishima’s gaze which had narrowed. It wasn’t anger, but the look he got when determination had set in and he wasn’t about to even think about budging on something. Katsuki liked to imagine it was the look he had when he tried to convince their classmates to come to Kamino Ward. What made it worse this go around was that, well, Katsuki knew he was right. “Tch.” He turned and stalked back to his bed before slumping down on it, glaring up at the ceiling as if it had personally wronged him. “What pro hero do you know wears hearing aids, shitty hair?”

“You?” That answer had Katsuki turn to shoot him a ‘stop bullshitting’ look but Kirishima’s face was so purely earnest the words died on his tongue. “Sure none of the current pros do, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be the first! I bet they’ll even make some with little orange X’s on them! That would be so cool!” He gave Katsuki one of those toothy grins that rivaled the sun in brightness and it took all Katsuki had not to smile at him in return.

He scoffed and looked away instead. “You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe, but I’m right about this!” Kirishima stood up and moved to sit beside his feet on the bed. “You always are the first and best at everything. Wouldn't it be super manly to be the representation to little kids you want now?” Katsuki didn’t say anything, afraid speaking might betray how hot his face was starting to feel at Kirishima’s unbridled admiration. “Besides think of all the cool ways you could make them look! I bet you could get them like, orange to match your uniform or-!”

“They’re already orange.” Kirishima turned to look at him and Katsuki rolled his eyes at the awe on the red heads face. He knew what was coming without Kirishima even asking so he sat up to pull a small box from the far corner of his nightstand. He tossed it to Kirishima who caught and opened it, eyes growing wide.

“Dude, these look so cool!”

“No they fuckin’ don’t. Don’t lie to me-“

“I’m not, man! Dude, picture this.” He picked one of them up and held it so Katsuki could see before splaying his other fingers out behind it. “You could have them as part of you mask! I bet support could even make some super badass ones that could have another dual factor! Maybe even like Mic’s speaker thing? No, I guess that wouldn’t make sense. But maybe they can block out certain things? Like Shinsou’s quirk! Oh man, you’re an even better match for him now! Just turn them off and you can’t even hear him!” Kirishima went into a rant about all the things he thought the stupid device in his hand could be used for and honestly Katsuki wasn’t hearing any of it but not because of the hearing loss. He just watched the idiot talk, watched his lips move and hands gesture. Watched as he’d occasionally laugh at something he’d thought of and how his smile reached his eyes when he did. How he was so excited just to sit here and come up with dumb ideas and how happy he was that Katsuki was potentially going to be an even better hero.

That thought alone made Katsuki’s heart jump again. Kirishima had really meant it about being an example. He really did think wearing the stupid devices would make him a better hero. Didn’t think it would make him any less of a person or any less of a pro. Kirishima genuinely didn’t think less or pity him for it and it actually seemed like he was furious that Katsuki would risk throwing his own dream of being a hero away just because of two tiny devices that would help him.

It was almost too much for him.

“You’re an idiot.” He repeated. Kirishima stopped talking and looked at him. He was still smiling and Katsuki was willing to bet that he was too if the slight tug at his lips was any indicator. “Fuckin’-! Fine, you rambling moron. I’ll wear the damn things tomorrow.”

The grin he got in return had to rival the brightest light in the galaxy and before he could open his mouth to warn against it, Kirishima tackled him back on the bed. The curses and explosions he sent in return were simply laughed off and otherwise ignored.

---

True to his word, Katsuki stood in front of his mirror with the small devices in his hand. He looked at his reflection without them, took in the way he looked one last time as if he could never go back to this look before sliding them in and turning them on as he remembered the doctor demonstrating. He winced at the resistance he was met with as they flickered to life but looked back at his reflection once they were snugly in and properly adjusted. His hair hid them for the most part, ash blond strands hanging low enough that unless he really looked, he couldn’t see them. Maybe that meant nobody else would since he was actually looking for them. He let out a sigh and turned to grab his bag. He doubted that severely. He swore quietly to himself, ignoring how it actually wasn't as quiet as he thought, and started the trek to class.

The walk out of the dorms and into the school was… different? He could hear things he hadn’t otherwise heard before. He could hear birds chirping in the trees he walked under, bits and pieces of conversations of the people he passed, that one weirdo from 1-B saying something and even the faint smack that followed as that orange haired chick apologized for him. It was almost like he’d been listening to the TV volume only turned up to 2 and now suddenly it was changed to 10. It would be overwhelming if he were anyone else, he guessed. Katsuki imagined this is what those videos of colorblind people wearing those special glasses was like. To experience the world with a sense that was dulled for so long only to be informed that said sense could be much better.

He’d spent so much time glaring at the stupid things and then fiddling with them to get them adjusted that he’d been beaten to class by the self proclaimed ‘Bakusquad’. Kirishima was sitting on Sero's desk facing the door and when he spotted Katsuki, broke back out into that same grin he did that rivaled the light flickering in from the windows. “Hey, Bakugou!” He raised an arm in greeting, grabbing the attention of the other idiots who all turned to greet him though not as enthusiastically as Kirishima. Not much of a surprise considering the red head was very clearly the only morning person among them.

Katsuki tsk'ed in greeting but Kirishima seemed to be studying him harder than usual and it was pretty clear what he was searching for. So with a roll of his eyes, Katsuki turned his head slightly so Kirishima could see the small bit of orange poking out from under his hair and if the smile he was greeted with was bright, this one was blinding. He didn’t say anything much to Katsuki's relief, just looked back at Kaminari despite his grin not fading as Katsuki walked over to his desk and tossed his bag down. Such a stupid little thing and Kirishima was grinning like he'd won the lottery.

Class was almost night and day.

He could hear Aizawa’s lazy tone easily, better than he had ever remembered being able to. He didn't need to rely on his handouts and the board to take notes. It was considerably easier to understand Ectoplasm now too and, much to his sheer and utter annoyance, he could hear Deku muttering to himself again. It was annoying, sure, and he almost considered taking the stupid things out to prevent it, but the fact that he actually could stopped him. Even Deku's muttering couldn't quite distract from the almost wonder he had. He could also pick up on Kaminari and Kirishima whispering though he coldn't make out what. (Probably about the math problem Ectoplasm just wrote down.)

The lunchroom was another experience. He hadn’t ever heard it this loud and he muttered to Sero if something special was happening because of the noise before Sero eyed him confused and said it was always this loud. Huh. He knew it should be considering the amount of teenagers cramed into it, but the thought hadn't really ever crossed his mind just how loud it should be. It was almost painful. Their usual table was at least a little quieter since it was in the far back. Katsuki was actually able to hear Kaminari approaching without relying on the slight ting of electricity in the air that usually was his give away. He looked up and watched as he and Kirishima stepped over towards them, caught up in some conversation about something, only stopping when Kirishima moved away and took his usual spot beside Katsuki while Kaminari went to sit in front of him.

“Hey, Bakubro! You look-“

Katsuki winced. “Fuck, can you maybe not talk so damn loud?!” He brought his hands up to his ears, wincing as they gave off feedback which he assumed was due to the mentioned static Kaminari gave off. Maybe he really should speak to support about upgrading them if he was going to start using them more. Wait, was that going to be a thing? He'd told Kirishima he'd wear them today; not from then on. When had he decided this was going to be a permanent thing?

He was lost in his own thoughts about if this so he missed the way Sero, Ashido, and Kaminari looked at each other, then at him, then back to one another. “Uh? He’s talking like he usually does. Which yeah, it’s loud, but it’s his usual volume.” Sero defended, looking all the world like Katsuki had just started sprouting a second head.

Shit.

Katsuki huffed and looked down pointedly at his lunch, taking a bite of rice to further avoid meeting their gaze. “Well tone it the fuck down, dunce-face.”

Kirishima was pointedly quiet while the three others sat in silence for a joyous and nerve wracking moment. He wondered briefly if they would just drop it, but no, he was never that lucky. He heard a gasp, knew it was Ashido, and jerked his gaze back up just as she leaned across the table and reached over to move his hair aside. “You got hearing aids!”

“Fuckin’-! Don’t touch me!” He swatted her hand away but the damage was done.

She was grinning from ear to ear and practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh my gosh, they look so good! That color is going to match your uniform perfectly!”

“Nice, dude! When did you get those?”

“Does this mean you’ll answer when I ask you for help now?”

“I think he was just always ignoring you, Kami.”

"What? No! Why would he do that?"

"Because you ask him for answers on every problem rather than how to solve it?"

Bakugou watched the three teens in front of him suddenly turn on Kaminari, laughing at the other blond’s expense. They hadn’t even flinched at him wearing them! No jokes, no sympathetic looks, nothing! They just took it in stride as if he’d said the weather outside was cool. He looked over at Kirishima to get confirmation that he wasn’t insane and they had really found out what he deemed his weakness. Kirishima met his gaze with a knowing grin and a shrug of his shoulders, a silent ‘I-told-you-it-wasn’t-a-big-deal’ look on his face. Katsuki shot him a glare but turned back to his meal to try and hide the smile he knew would betray any small amount of anger it may have had.

They didn't seem to care. He'd spent so much of his life dreading the day he'd have to wear these stupid things. Dreading the way people would look at or perceive him. He was Bakugou Katsuki and the only way he should be looked at was with admiration or fear; not pity or sympathy, and he whole heartedly believed that was going to be the outcome wearing these would bring. He expected the three idiots in front of him to make a huge ordeal about it, but they just seemed relieved and excited. Just like Kirishima had been.

Maybe having friends wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

---

After that, Katsuki wore them daily. They became second nature from then on and he wanted to be surprised that nobody seemed to even flinch at them, but after seeing his friend’s reactions, he really wasn't. What was supposed to be a weakness was nothing more than another area he could work with. Something Katsuki could train and hone like his quirk. He’d even followed Kirishima’s idea and got a pair that would work with his mask. They got upgraded to protect his remaining hearing from his explosions while enhancing it. His regular ones got an upgrade as well so they’d stop sending him feedback every time Kaminari got within a foot of him which spared Kaminari getting threatened and snapped at so it was a win for him as well. (Both pairs were returned black with an orange X printed on them and Kirishima swore he knew nothing about it.)

Months passed and it was hard to imagine he’d ever put up such a fight to wear the stupid things. They really did make a difference and it was even better knowing nobody felt the need to shout at him. Part of him wondered just how many people did but also didn’t think his pride could risk asking. It was like nothing had changed and while he wouldn’t ever admit it, it was apparent he had worried and put this off for absolutely no reason. His friends rolled with it like nothing had happened and that alone, while he refused to admit it, was the real reason he continued to keep it up after the first day. The idiots seemed to be full of surprises, especially Kirishima.

So it really shouldn’t have been a surprise what happened one night during the middle of their second year. The pair were up late in Bakugou’s room going over the latest math homework they’d been given. Well, more like Katsuki was going over Kirishima’s since his was already finished. At some point he’d taken his hearing aids out figuring he wouldn’t really need them in the quiet of his room.

He marked one last problem Kirishima needed to look over and handed the paper back. The red head took it then asked ‘Do you want to go get something to eat?’

“Yeah sure.”

He pushed himself up and brought an arm back behind his head to stretch it out and then it dawned on him. Kirishima hadn’t spoken. His lips hadn’t moved.

“What?!”

Kirishima startled at his yelling. “I asked-“

“I know what you asked!” Katsuki was pretty sure he must look strange because Kirishima was looking at him with sheer, utter confusion. “It’s- it’s how you asked it!”

The red head blinked at him in confusion, clearly not understanding why Katsuki was suddenly so upset. “What about it?”

“You signed!”

“Yeah?” He held the ‘ea’ sound out as if the pause would help him figure out what had happened. Katsuki could feel his face heating up. “Dude, I’m so confused right now. What’s wrong?”

“You-! You fuckin’ signed to me!”

“Yeah, you covered that part. What about it?”

“When the fuck did you learn it?!”

Kirishima still looked at him baffled. “Dude, I’ve known for years. My mom is hard of hearing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t think I’d need to? I sign to you all the time, man!” Now it was Katsuki’s turn to look lost. He looked at the red head for a few minutes as if he’d just told him some world altering view, which he kinda did. “You good, bro?”

“No I’m not ‘good’! When the fuck have you ever signed to me?!” Though as the question left his lips, memories started replaying in his head. One’s of Kirishima casually signing ‘lunch?’ while verbally saying they should head to grab a bite to eat. Memories of Kirishima signing ‘that was awesome!’ after Katsuki did some impressive move in training. Of Kirishima’s fingers moving to ask him to pass his notes back over. Vision after vision of Kirishima slipping it into such casual setting from the first weeks he knew him and wow, okay that did something to his heart.

Why hadn’t he ever noticed it before? When the hell had Kirishima become such a casual part of his life that him speaking in a language hardly anyone knew became second nature? How had he learned so much about Katsuki without him ever knowing the red head was close enough to figure him out? Why did he decide to dedicate so much of his energy and time to be around him?!

“Dude?” He looked over at Kirishima who was now looking at him worried. “I was kinda kidding when I asked if you were good but now I’m actually worried. Are you alright? You look, like, sick."

Katsuki dropped to his knees in front of the red head who was looking even more concerned now. He opened his mouth, probably to once again ask if Katsuki was okay, when Katsuki put his hands on either side of his head and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t anything spectacular on the outside, just a chaste kiss, but it was an awakening for Katsuki who avoided feelings and distractions. Katsuki who had mentioned romance was the furthest thing on his mind when Ashido asked him back in first year if he was interested in anyone. So yeah, it wasn’t the most romantic of kisses as Katsuki hadn’t exactly kissed anyone aside from one or two people back in middle school and Kirishima hadn’t exactly moved or leaned into it let alone reacted.

Wait, shit. Kirishima hadn’t reacted.

That thought had him pulling back immediately, apology already forming but going unspoken as Kirishima mirrored the gesture of grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Now it was Katsuki’s turn to be shocked but it faded in seconds, eyes closing on instinct as he moved to rest his hands on Kirishima’s hips. Kirishima in turn gently cupped the side of his face, guiding Katsuki’s head to tilt to the side slightly so he could deepen it. Alright, this one was much better than the pitiful one Katsuki had just done. Kirishima’s lips slid against his like they were meant to be connected and his hands lit Katsuki’s skin on fire. The feeling was like wearing his hearing aids for the first time. Like reawakening a sense that had been muted for years. He didn’t want it to end but after one last slow kiss, Kirishima pulled back, lips parted as he breathed.

Katsuki opened his eyes and blinked down at him, no doubt looking as kiss-drunk as the red head. Kirishima beamed back up at him, cheeks tinted red which Katsuki could feel his own face mimicking. He glanced away as if that would hide it, ignoring the way his heart rate picked up when Kirishima’s arms moved to wrap around his waist, head resting against his chest. He had about a billion things he wanted to say, knew Kirishima had about a billion he probably wanted to ask, but of course the red head knew him well enough to know he needed a minute before he spoke. Kirishima knew him so well. How did he not ever connect these dots and do this sooner?!

“So you like me.”

Alright, maybe not the elegant response he wanted but he earned a laugh from Kirishima. He shrugged and looked up at him so Katsuki could see his lips, smile still present. “What finally gave that away?”

Katsuki could feel his face flush anew. “’Finally’?”

“I haven’t exactly been trying to hide it from you.”

“You never fuckin’ said anything!”

“Again, never thought I’d need to.”

And alright, that was fair if he thought about it. He frowned but it was more at himself than at Kirishima and he ducked his head down to rest against the red head’s shoulder, the red head pulling him close. “You have awful taste.” He muttered to which Kirishima just hummed, lightly resting his head against the side of Katsuki’s.

They stayed like that for a while longer before Kirishima’s stomach made them remember what had started this whole ordeal in the first place. As they stood up and started to head out, Katsuki paused and turned grabbing his hearing aids and sliding them into place, ignoring the way Kirishima’s face lit up at the simple motion. He didn’t comment on it though, only taking Katsuki’s hand for a whole second before dropping it. Katsuki arched a brow, about to ask what was wrong.

‘I really, really like you, Katsuki.’

Katsuki was pretty sure his face was currently redder than the idiot in front of him’s hair and mumbled a quiet “Fuck you” as he lightly punched his shoulder. Kirishima laughed and caught Katsuki’s hand before it fell away. He went to lace their fingers together and tug him down the hall but Katsuki stayed rooted to the spot. Kirishima looked back at him, head tilting in the ‘whats-up’ way he did before Katsuki pulled his hand back.

‘You are an idiot, but I like you too.’

It shouldn’t be a surprise the way Kirishima’s eyes lit up. It shouldn’t be breath taking the blinding smile such a simple statement was met with. It shouldn’t make his heart skip when he was rewarded with another kiss. None of it should be but here Katsuki was, arms wrapped around this dumb, red headed ray of sunshine who managed to do the impossible.

[gwentoryfics]

Hot for Teacher, Part 9

GENRE | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

PAIRING | Reader x Hongseok x Hyunggu (Kino) x Wooseok

WORDS | 13.5k (oops)

SUMMARY | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

WARNINGS | Swearing. Angggssstttt. Explicit smut. Penetrative sex. Oral sex (female receiving). 

PARTS | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 5.5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • More Coming Soon

NOTE | This one was so hard to write! Thank you as always for your patience 💕 I’ll be waiting 24 hours to answer any asks you peaches send in so as not to spoil anything for other readers, but please let me know what you think! Also let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

TAGS | @day6grams, @heyheydee7, @hhhongseok, @jinjinmyworld, @kkxn0​, @precious-seungwooya​, @seraplantery​, @the-deviant-world​, @yeosang-ponytail​

You wake up in the morning in a bed that’s clearly not your own and a smile comes to your lips when you remember everything that happened last night. You never imagined that you’d have such a crazy night with Yanan and Changgu, but you don’t regret it for one second. You give yourself a moment to stretch before climbing out of Changgu’s bed, noticing the mellow soreness in your muscles.

You slip on your clothes from the party and head out to the common area of the apartment, where Yanan and Changgu are both hard at work in the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” you sing-song, still feeling satisfied from last night.

Both boys turn around and smile at you. Yanan coos, “Morning, sweetheart.”

The pet name sends a tingle through you.

Changgu whisks something in a bowl as he greets you. “I was just about to make some scrambled eggs. Want some?”

“Yes, please.” You smile warmly and plop yourself down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. 

Yanan prepares a second cup of coffee and places it in front of you. “You’re in awfully high spirits this morning.”

“Yeah, thank you for that,” you raise an eyebrow as you blow on the top of your steaming coffee. Yanan gives you a flirty grin before drinking his own coffee and then peeling off to grab some fresh fruit from the refrigerator. 

Changgu pours the eggs into a frying pan and starts cooking up your breakfast. “Glad to hear you had fun last night. You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“It was… great.” There are a million stronger adjectives you could use, such as amazing, incredible, magical, mind-blowing… but you don’t want to boost their egos too much. “Do you guys do this often?”

Changgu shrugs. “It’s sort of an occasional thing. Our tastes in women don’t always overlap, unfortunately. And even if we find someone we’re both interested in, she might not be interested in both of us.”

You hum and nod. It definitely doesn’t seem like something that could just magically fall into place super frequently. But based off of last night, you’re willing to bet that both boys are impressive lovers even on their own. They were each so attentive and responsive, and the amount of aftercare you received when you finally wrapped up the night made the whole night absolutely heavenly.

“So _____,” Yanan leans over the island, pushing a bowl of fruit your way. “I meant to ask last night, but you’re old enough to come out with us to Andy’s next time, right?”

You frown slightly. “Not quite. I just turned twenty, so I technically have another year. Although I do have a fake ID that works just fine as long as there’s no one there to call me out on it.”

He scoffs, clearly remembering the run-in with Professor Yang that ruined the night last time you went out with them. “Yeah, Hongseok really knows how to ruin a good time, doesn’t he?”

“Why do you insist on calling him by his first name?” It catches you off guard every time, especially because the professor has been so explicit about his preferences when it comes to the way students address him. You’re willing to bet that, based on the way he and Yanan interacted and the fact that Yanan uses his first name, they must know each other outside of school. “Do you have something against him?”

Yanan takes a long sip of his coffee before responding. “Perhaps I do. But I’ll tell you this, he sure as hell started it.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Changgu pipes up as he transfers the eggs to a plate. “That’s a pretty big can of worms you’re trying to open.”

“Well you can’t just say something like that and expect me not to be curious! Now I need to know.”

Yanan pulls up a stool. “I went to a different school for a year and a half before transferring here. Washington University.”

You immediately recognize the university as being the most prestigious school in the city. It’s stupid expensive, and it’s really hard to get in. “You went to Washington?”

He nods. “And so did Hongseok. I met him there while he was getting his Masters degree. We both worked in the Mathematics Department office.” Yanan bites down onto a strawberry. “We got along okay, but I wouldn’t say we were ever friends. Our work schedules occasionally overlapped and we were cordial with each other. But one day he heard me bragging to a friend about how I’d slept with my Economics professor to boost my grade. Business school wasn’t for me, so I did what I could to make it a little easier.”

Your eyes widen and you’re struck with something that feels kind of like… panic? “You slept with your professor?”

“I did,” he responds proudly. “And then Hongseok turned me in to the Dean. She got fired and I lost all of my scholarship money, so I transferred. What are the odds that he’d end up over here too?” He chuckles darkly.

Yanan interrupts your train of thought. “I think he was just pissed because he worked so hard and he didn’t think it was fair that I was trying to take the easy way out. To that, I say that nothing in life is fair and he needs to get over himself.”

You try to seem as natural as possible despite the slight discomfort seeping into your bones. “Oh man, I can’t believe you had to transfer because of all that. That basically changed your whole future, right?”

“It did, but I���m not terribly torn up about it.” Yanan dismisses the thought with a wave of his hand. “I had fun with my professor, but I’ve enjoyed my time at this school more than I ever did at Washington. It might be less prestigious, and I might be getting a music degree instead of a business degree, but I didn’t ever have much interest in business anyway.”

You nod slowly, at least glad to hear that Yanan’s doing okay. “You still seem to have a bit of a grudge towards Professor Yang, though.”

“That I do. Not just because he turned me in, though. I don’t particularly like the way he looks down on me all the time. He’s got a real ego problem.”

“You’ve got that right,” you murmur, thinking about the way Professor Yang first confronted you at the beginning of the year, how he assumed you must have been obsessively crushing on him to the point of intentionally seducing him at the wedding. He does seem to be quite a bit self-absorbed.

Changgu speaks up. “What about you, _____? It seemed like you and Professor Yang were pretty familiar with each other.”

And just like that, your ease gives way to mild anxiety. “Oh, I’m just in his class.” You try to brush it off.

Changgu nods, but you’re not really sure that he believes you. He serves you your eggs. “You know, I followed the two of you outside when he insisted on sending you home. Things between you seemed… heated.”

“Mm,” you hum, letting yourself take a bite of your eggs as you scramble to come up with an excuse. “It was just all of the adrenaline from the surprise performance I had to give, you know. And it’s easy to just return his fire with fire, especially because, you know, he’s messed up my grades a few times and I’ve had to have multiple talks with him about that, so like, there’s just tension, you know, but it’s not really a big deal or anything...” Like an idiot you ramble and over-share, just like you always do when you’re put on the spot.

“I see.” Changgu raises an eyebrow.

Yanan’s brow furrows as he tries to comprehend the beans you just spilled. “You’re telling me that Hongseok, the mathematical genius, messed up your grades?”

“Yeah, it’s so stupid, right? I don’t know what his deal is.” You force out an awkward laugh and follow it with a lie to try to soften the damage you’ve done. “It happened with my friend, too... I think he must just get distracted while he’s grading or something. Who knows?”

Yanan seems unwilling to let it go as he presses, “He boosts your grades?”

You nod, completely incapable of thinking through actions or words before letting them happen. “Ah, yeah. But it’s kind of a mix, I guess.”

And then the shittiest grin comes to Yanan’s lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Don’t tell me he’s got a thing for you.”

It’s such an easy conclusion to come to, and you led him right to it. Now you’re totally frozen and unsure of how to respond. How are you supposed to answer that?

Changgu comes to your rescue, placing a hand on Yanan’s shoulder as he speaks. “Even if he does, it’s not her fault, and she doesn’t seem particularly comfortable with all of this, so why don’t we let it go? It’s all speculation, anyway.”

“Of course.” Yanan nods curtly, and an uncomfortable silence falls between the three of you.

The irony of this whole situation is not lost on you. If anything happens between you and Professor Yang, he’d be nothing less than a hypocrite now that you know he got Yanan in trouble for the same behavior. And if Yanan were to ever hear about it, you’re not confident that any interest he has in you would overshadow the opportunity for revenge. You’re just collateral damage in his feud with Professor Yang. 

Getting close to these boys might be more dangerous than you originally thought. 

Monday night rolls around, and you know you should be getting ready to head out for R&B ensemble… but instead you just anxiously pace through your living room, completely unsure if you can work up the courage to see Kino tonight.

You haven’t said a word to each other since your birthday party. He hasn’t even texted to indicate he wanted to walk with you to practice tonight, and you can’t say you blame him. You were kind of a huge dick to him after you kissed. You weren’t really in a good frame of mind to actually talk it through with him at the party, but the longer you wait to talk to him, the less of an excuse you have. You’re completely sober now, and you were yesterday, too. He’s one of your best friends - there’s no reason why you can’t talk to him about this. 

Really you know it’s because, no matter how close you are with him, you’re absolutely terrified about how badly the conversation could go.

You care about Kino so much. You honest-to-God love the kid. But do you care about him romantically? 

You pull your phone out and write out a quick text to Wooseok: Not feeling well, so I’m going to rest tonight. Can you tell teach I’m going to miss practice?

You just can’t work up the nerve to go in tonight.

Wooseok responds: No prob. U need anything?

You: No I’m ok, thank you though.

Wooseok: K. Rest up, short stuff.

Dropping your phone onto the couch, you resort to just jumping up and down because you’re so full of nervous energy. You don’t even want to start thinking about everything that’s transpired between you and Wooseok on top of your situation with Kino. He also hasn’t said much to you since the party, and you can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that you ditched your own party to bang Yanan and Changgu.

That shouldn’t have bothered him since you agreed to only be friends, and it’s definitely not a decision you regret making. That night with the two seniors was incredible, even if the morning after took a turn for the worse.

Inevitably, your mind returns to Kino. You let out a low groan and burst into the bedroom where Nailah has been studying.

“Nailahhhhh,” you groan. “I don’t know what to do.”

Nailah holds up a finger and continues reading, and you just stand there jittering in silence while you wait for her to finish. After a solid thirty seconds that feels like five minutes, she snaps her textbook shut and looks up at you. “What’s wrong, boo?” 

“I have to talk to Kino but I don’t want to.”

“About what? The fact that you guys made out?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I haven’t talked to him since the party and I feel awful about it and I know that we need to just have a conversation but I’m terrified about what’ll happen and I honestly don’t even know how I feel?” Words come out of you stupidly fast as you try to express everything that you’re feeling.

She checks her phone, presumably to see what time it is. “Don’t you usually have a class tonight?”

“R&B Ensemble. I’m skipping. Not ready to see Kino yet.”

Nailah gives you a once-over, gets up from her bed, and starts digging through her dresser drawers. “You’ve got too much energy. Let’s go to the gym and work this out.”

“The gym?” Your mind briefly flashes back to the last time you went to the gym with her and you crossed paths with Professor Yang. That’s… potentially less of a problem right now. Hell, seeing Professor Yang working out would probably be a welcome distraction from everything with Kino. So what if he’s there? Besides, Nailah’s right - it would be nice to do something with all of this energy you’ve got right now. “Okay, yeah. Good idea.”

Nailah sits you down at the bicep curl machine and she squats in front of you while you try to do a few reps. “So talk to me about what happened. I know what I saw, but I want to hear it from you.”

You let out a strained exhale as you pull the handles up towards your chest. “I went out for some air, and Kino came out, and we were dancing to the music and I told him I love him.”

“What?” Her eyes widen.

“I do, though!” You pull up again. “Like the same way I love you, you know? And I think he took it to be something romantic, and then he kissed me. And I kissed him back.”

“Did you like it?”

Pull. “I did. He’s a good kisser.”

“But you’re conflicted.”

“Yeah.” Pull. “Because I don’t know if I like him that way. And I think he might like me that way. And what if I decide that I don’t like him that way, and then it ruins our friendship?”

“Is there a chance you might like him that way?”

You drop the handles. Is there? You think about all of the times you’ve hung out in practice rooms, all of the notes you send each other during class. And then you think about the dance showcase, the feeling of his fingers intertwined with yours, the press of his lips as he kissed your forehead that night. It’s undeniable that your heart beats a little faster as you think about him. “Shit. Maybe?”

“Okay.” Nailah nods. “Maybe isn’t a great answer.”

“I know,” you grumble. “That doesn’t give me any kind of clarity.”

“So just imagine that you talk to him about the kiss, and he tells you he likes you and he might even be interested in dating. How does that make you feel?” Nailah asks, and then she gestures to the machine to encourage you to keep going.

You pull up again. “I feel overwhelmed.”

“Now imagine that instead, he says that he was confused and he didn’t really mean it. He wants to stay friends. How does that make you feel?”

“...less overwhelmed.”

“That says a lot, doesn’t it?”

“But what if I’m only overwhelmed because it’s different, not because I dislike it?” Pull harder. “What if I’m less overwhelmed by staying friends just because that’s what I’m used to?”

“Well that’s something you’re going to have to examine. I don’t have the answer to that.” Nailah stands, crossing her arms over her chest.

You huff loudly, letting go of the bar again. “Why is this so difficult?”

“Are you telling me that you’re surprised that you don’t know what you want? Sweetie, indecision is your middle name,” she teases. “You made out with Kino and then slept with two other guys all in the same night. And don’t even get me started on whatever the hell is going on between you and that Wooseok kid.”

You feel your cheeks grow warm from embarrassment. “What do you mean? Why are you bringing up Wooseok?”

“I’m not dumb, _____. You’ve obviously got something going on with him. So ‘fess up.”

“Can I switch machines first?”

Nailah stands and gestures for you to come along. You sit side by side at two leg press machines, and you try not to feel intimidated by the amount of weight she sets on her machine. Once you’re both settled in, she looks over at you expectantly.

“So…” You try to figure out where to start, and then you decide you just need to dish the whole story. Besides, he’s already told Yuto about all of it, so you should get to have a confidante, too. “I offered to tutor him in music theory because he was struggling, and it was totally fine. Then one night he invited me over to his place when I was feeling particularly… feisty… and we got drunk and made out.”

“Ah, the Queen of Bad Decisions strikes again.” Nailah chuckles. “Continue.”

Her comment makes you roll your eyes, but it feels good that she’s so lighthearted about it. “So then we talked about it later and decided that we both would be okay with, like, occasionally hooking up in a totally casual way.”

She nods slowly. “You know, if I remember correctly, I believe I actually suggested you try hooking up with him, didn’t I?”

“Sure did,” you acknowledge with a flat tone, remembering the lunchtime conversation you had that feels like forever ago.

“And how long has this been going on?”

“Maybe like… a month and a half?”

“Okay, okay.” Nailah just keeps nodding. “Obviously I approve, but it’s also important that you feel comfortable with your choices and you’ve got a lot going on right now.”

It feels good to get all of this off of your chest. So good, in fact, that you contemplate filling her in on everything regarding Yanan and Professor Yang as well. But at this point nothing is happening between you and him, so there’s really no reason to talk about it. “You’re right. There’s just… a lot to think about.”

“Maybe Thanksgiving break will be good for you. You can head home, spend some time with your family, and avoid all of these boys for a long weekend. That might give you the time you need to clear your head and figure out what you want.” She pushes the machine with her legs, thigh muscles impressively bulging.

“Yeah. That’ll be nice.” You really are looking forward to heading home in a few days. It’ll be so nice to see Minseo again and get a break from all of the drama you’ve managed to create for yourself. “Can we be done here, now? You know I can’t match your stamina.”

Nailah laughs and gives one last push. “Sure, sweetie. Let’s head home.”

Even though working out with Nailah and talking it over with her helps you feel a little more at ease, it still doesn’t prepare you for the phone call you receive when you’re back at the apartment. 

Your phone lights up as it vibrates, the name City Boy pulling up on the screen.

“Nailah, he’s calling me.” You panic.

“Well answer it.” Nailah encourages you. “Now’s as good a time as any to talk it out.”

You almost let it go to voicemail, but at the last second you swipe to answer. Awkwardly, you say, “Heyyy! Kino, hey. What’s up?”

“Hey, _____.” He sounds incredibly mellow. “Are you feeling alright? Wooseok said you’re sick.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just… just had a headache, that’s all.” You rub your forehead as you try to figure out what to tell him, and you duck into the bedroom to have a private conversation. “Thanks for checking in on me, though.”

“Of course.” Pause. “Um, so you’re probably home right now, right?”

“Mhm. Just resting,” you lie.

“Flash your light for me. I’m in my room, too.”

You do as he asks, and then you sit on the floor by your floor-to-ceiling window and look for his signal. Once you spot his room, you say, “Found you.”

Kino waves gently up at you, and you wave back. Then he clears his throat and runs his hand through his hair. “So I guess the reason I actually called is because I kind of had the feeling you might be avoiding me, and I know it’s not even a big deal because it’s only been, like, two days that we haven’t talked, and it’s totally understandable that you might want some space, but I just felt so bad that you didn’t come to rehearsal tonight and I don’t want you to avoid things you love because of me.”

You wait until he gets it all off of his chest, sitting quietly while you try to figure out how to respond. 

“I’m really sorry, _____. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that when we were both kind of out of it. And now I’m just terrified that I messed up so badly that I’m going to lose you completely, and I can’t stand the thought of it.”

“Kino…” 

“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”

You can hear the reservation in his voice. This is terrifying territory for both of you. You take a deep breath and respond as honestly as you can. “I don’t know. I care about you a lot, but I’m not sure yet if any of it is romantic.” He doesn’t respond right away, so you ask, “What about you? Do you have feelings for me?”

Kino sighs quietly. “Actually, I don’t know, either. I might. But if that’s not what you want, I can absolutely squash that so we can keep being friends. That’s the most important thing to me.”

You sit quietly for a moment. “I think I need time. I’ve just never really thought about you that way, but then after you kissed me… I don’t know. I’m really sorry that I’m so confused by all of this. I really wish I could give you a straight answer.”

“It’s okay.” Kino’s voice is warm. “You don’t have to push yourself in one direction or the other. We can just sit on it for a little bit, and maybe talk about it after break once you’ve had some time to think?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” you respond softly, grateful that he’s not pushing you for an answer one way or the other.

“But I guess one thing I’d like to know now is, are we still friends?” 

“Yes! Of course we are,” you respond without hesitation. “No matter what we decide, we’ll stay friends at the very least.”

“Okay good.” He smiles up at you from his window. “You’re going home for break, right?”

“Mhm, I’m taking the train out on Wednesday night,” you say. “What about you? Are you visiting your family?”

“Yeah. I don’t really want to, though.”

Based on past conversations with Kino, and the emotional performance he choreographed for the showcase, you’ve pieced together how he doesn’t have a great relationship with his parents. But you’ve never gotten the full story. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Kino sighs. “It’s just hard to be around my parents. My mom is emotionally abusive and my dad doesn’t do anything to stop it. If I were an only child, there’s no way in hell I’d go back there for Thanksgiving. But I miss my sisters and I need to make sure they’re doing alright.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that. I think your sisters are really lucky to have a brother like you.”

“Thanks. I feel guilty enough that I even went to college in the first place, and I know I don’t visit home as often as I should. It was easier for me to protect my siblings when I still lived there, but I was also at my wit’s end. I can’t tell you how much better I’ve felt since starting college, as long as you don’t count the guilt of abandoning my siblings.”

“You have to look out for yourself, too, though. If you had stayed home and taken all the blows, what kind of life would you be making for yourself? If your sisters are anything like you, then I know they’re kind-hearted and strong, and they’ll make it out of the house too when it’s their turn.”

Kino sniffs, and you wonder if he’s crying. He’s just far enough away that it’s hard to tell. “You’re right.”

“You should invite your sisters to hang out with us sometime. We could all go do karaoke together or something.”

“I’m sure they’d love that! That would be really fun.” Kino sounds a little lighter now. “Thanks, _____. I’ve been so stressed about my family situation since I know I’m going home this week, and talking to you really helps me feel better.”

“Of course! What are friends for?”

“I need to get going, but there was actually one more thing I wanted to ask you about.”

“Go for it.”

“Can you be honest with me about Wooseok? You two just got so close so fast, and it’s not like that’s a problem or anything, but… do you like him? Are you two a thing? Because I’ve been suspicious for a while and I think knowing if there’s something going on between you two will help me figure out what I’m feeling.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. Why are you so afraid to be honest with him about it? At this point you’ve denied it quite a few times around him, and it sounds like he doesn’t fully believe you. So you really have no choice but to tell him the truth. 

He continues. “Do you remember the night you got drunk with him and then crashed at my place? You told me about what you two did, and I just… I want to know if it happened again.”

You swallow hard, and then spit it out. “We’re just friends, but we’ve slept together a few times.”

“Ah.” Kino sounds disappointed. “And you don’t have any feelings for him?”

“I don’t.” You adamantly respond, but even as you say the words you’re not positive they’re the truth. So you say, “I mean, I don’t think I do.”

“Got it. Well thank you for telling me. I have to get going though, so I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

You’re surprised by how abruptly he excuses himself from the conversation, but you don’t really feel like you’re in a place to ask him to stay. “Okay. Talk to you later.”

He hangs up without saying goodbye, and you can tell that must have hurt him. You had no choice but to be honest, because it’s time you start facing your messes - even if it creates new ones in the process. But as you flop back onto your bed, you realize that Kino’s response speaks volumes about how he actually feels about you.

Anxious, you check the time on your phone again. Shinhye should be here by now, but she’s nowhere to be seen. It’s just you at the bus stop. You decide to call her just to make sure she’s actually coming.

She answers on the third ring. “Hey, _____…”

“Shinhye, are you coming? We’re going to be so late to Professor Yang’s exhibit.” You bounce on the balls of your feet as if that will help keep you warm.

“I don’t think I can make it, actually, I think I’m coming down with something. I just really don’t feel well.”

“Oh no! I’m sorry,” you pout. “That sucks. Well get lots of rest then, okay?”

“I will.” Shinhye sighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I just, like, took a nap and I thought that I set an alarm, but apparently I didn’t.”

“It’s totally okay. I’ll see if someone else can go with me. You just get better.”

“I’ll do my best,” she chuckles lightly. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

You hang up and frown. You were really hoping she’d come with you today. Professor Yang had announced in class this morning that he’s got an exhibit tonight, and anyone who attended would get extra credit for the class. You’re genuinely interested in seeing more of the instruments he’s made, so you’re excited to go. You just don’t know if you want to go alone.

You could call Kino, since he’s usually your go-to guy whenever you need a companion, but you still feel weird about the way the conversation ended last night. It would probably be awkward for the two of you to make the trip together.

And there’s Wooseok… Maybe you should give him a ring. Things have also been a little off with him since the party, but it feels easier to ignore that weirdness than the tension between you and Kino. You go ahead and give him a call.

“_____! Heyyyy,” Wooseok drawls. “I miss you.”

“You miss me?” You laugh quietly, immediately recognizing the boozed-up drawl of his voice. “Or are you just drunk?”

He gasps. “How did you know?”

“Wooseok, it’s a Tuesday night. What are you doing getting hammered?”

“My morning class tomorrow got canceled because of TURKEY DAY WOOOOOOOO- OH SHIT-”

You hear a crash of glass, and your eyes widen. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, totallyyyy- totally fine. It’s fine. I just dropped my cup, but it’s fine. I was talking to you so I got distracted.”

“Is Minho there?”

“No, he went home already. Can you come over? I wanna see you.”

“I can’t right now, I have somewhere to be. But if you put the alcohol away and just drink water for the rest of the night, I think I can come over later.”

“Yes, ma’am. Gotta drink that water. I can do that.” 

“Good,” you laugh. “Be careful, okay? And don’t try to pick up the broken glass with your hands. Just sweep it off to the side and we’ll clean it up later.”

“Why do you sound like my mom?” 

“Because that’s what you need right now,” you laugh. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay. You’re great. Bye.”

You hang up. That was a bust. After a few minutes you still can’t think of anyone else you’d want to invite. But then the bus arrives and you decide that you’d rather just be on your way than try to find another person to come with.

It’s a long ride, and you’re later than you wanted to be. By the time you arrive, you pass a few other students from your class on their way out. Actually, the whole place looks pretty empty. Did you miss it?

The door is unlocked, so you let yourself in, the little bells on the handle jingling to signal your arrival. In a matter of seconds, Professor Yang’s head pops out from around a corner.

“Hey, we’re actually clo… oh, hi.” When he sees you, his eyes widen a little, made all the more obvious by the round frames that sit atop his nose. You've never seen him in glasses before, and it's a good look for him. But he could pull off literally anything, so you’re not surprised.

Still, you frown, feeling like you really wasted your time hauling ass the whole way up to the north side just to arrive as soon as it's ending. You should have just gotten on the earlier bus instead of waiting for Shinhye. “Shit, I knew I was running late, but I didn’t think I was going to miss the whole thing.”

Professor Yang steps out into the exhibit room, pulling back the sleeves of his deep blue sweater. “It’s okay, I’m not going to kick you out.” 

“It sounded like you were about to,” you joke, trying to make light of the situation.

“Yeah, but you’re…” Professor Yang looks for a brief moment like he’s having difficulty deciding how to qualify you. “...my student.”

“I am,” you respond awkwardly. “Um, I know you were going to give us extra credit for being here, but you don’t have to do that since it's clearly over.”

He glances at the watch on his wrist. “If you let me show you around and tell you about some of the instruments for, like, fifteen minutes, I can give you credit.”

“That sounds good to me." You smile, but unfortunately your stupid ass can't just leave it there. You tack on, "Teach me, Professor.” And you laugh awkwardly, immediately regretting everything.

He chuckles, possibly out of politeness, and leads you to the first guitar on display. “You’re already familiar with this one. She’s the one I keep in my office.”

“I remember,” you admire the gorgeous instrument as you slip your coat off, already getting warm now that you're indoors. “She’s the reason why I was so excited to see what else you’ve built.”

“She’s one of my best, so don’t be too disappointed in the others,” he laughs.

As he walks through the exhibit with you, he speaks in detail about each of his creations. He explains to you how he decides what type of wood to work with, and his process for cutting and shaping the instruments. His collection is mostly guitars - some twelve-strings and classical guitars included - as well as ukuleles and mandolins. Although he suggested he’d only take up fifteen minutes of your time, he speaks with you about his instruments for well over an hour, and you soak up all of the information he’s willing to share with you. 

During your tour, you notice more than a few empty instrument stands. “Why are some missing?”

“I sold them,” he explains. “Part of the purpose of this exhibit was to sell some of the instruments I’ve built, and the other part was to get commissions. I was successful in both parts.”

“That’s amazing! Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He beams. “I’m eager to start working on the new projects.”

“Where do you do your building? Do you have all the tools at home?”

He shakes his head. “Definitely not. I rent a workshop space. Or if I’m able, I’ll try to do some work in the shop we use for class.” With another glance at his watch, he takes a deep breath. “Anyway, I’m sorry for talking your ear off. It’s getting late so I should really start getting packed up.”

“Oh, it’s like over over?”

“Yeah, tonight was the last of two nights. So I have to clean up, close up, and get the keys back to the shop owner first thing tomorrow morning.”

Without thinking, you offer, “I can help."

“Nonsense. I won’t make you do that.”

“You have a lot of instruments, it’ll be a lot faster if you just let me help. I don’t mind it. Honestly.”

He surveys you, angling his body directly at you for the first time all night - not that you're hyper-aware of his body language or anything. “Alright. Let’s go get the cases.”

You bring the custom-made soft cases from the back out into the exhibit space. He has them organized well, so it’s easy to find which instruments belong in which cases. In no time, you’ve got them all cased up and ready to go.

Carrying a few instruments at a time, you walk with him through the back door to the small parking lot - only three spaces available behind the building. He walks up to the dinkiest little Nissan and manually unlocks the front door, pulling a lever on the floor to pop open the trunk.

“Wow,” you can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t expect you to drive such an old-looking car.”

“Yeah, I’ve had this thing for forever. I have other more important things to put my money towards.” He lifts one of the guitars he holds, making it clear that his luthier hobby preoccupies most of his funds. 

Together, you make a few trips to grab all of the instruments and load up his car, carefully placing each instrument into the trunk and back seat. Once he’s packed, you check your phone for the next bus time. The next bus isn’t for half an hour, and you frown. The damn thing is always running late anyway, so you know it’ll take much longer than thirty minutes.

“How are you getting home?” He asks, as if reading your mind.

“The bus. It’s not too far from here. I should probably head out, actually. Don’t want to miss it.” Even though you know the bus won’t show up for a while, you intentionally excuse yourself with a lie. It’s best that you just head on out.

Professor Yang checks his trusty watch yet again. “I’ll give you a ride.”

Your eyes widen. That’s the complete opposite of what should happen right now. “No, no, it’s okay. I don’t want to inconvenience you. I take the bus all the time and it’s really not a big deal. Plus it drops off right across from my dorm so it’s actually really convenient for me.”

He shakes his head, unwilling to accept it. “It’s late, it’s cold out, and this isn’t a great neighborhood. Even if it were warmer out, I still couldn’t let you stand around out here by yourself.”

You’re hesitant to accept, although a car ride does sound pretty nice. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He nods confidently. “You’ve shown that you can be mature about our relationship, so I think this is something we can both comfortably handle.”

It’s a weird compliment, but you’ll take it. You really have been trying hard to just let things be normal between the two of you, and it seems to be going okay. And then you have an idea - as in an attempt to prove just how normal everything is, you ask him, “Do you need extra hands to help unload at your place? You’ll have to make a million trips by yourself. Since we’re... okay with each other and everything, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

He takes a moment to think. “I suppose it would be helpful.”

“Cool. We’ll just unload and then I can probably catch a bus from there. Maybe a taxi if you’re close enough to downtown that it won’t cost me a fortune.” 

“I can still drive you the rest of the way,” he insists.

“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be weird if other students at the dorm saw me getting out of your car? They might get the wrong idea.”

“I’ll drop you off a block away, then.”

“Fine,” you concede. Somehow it feels like you’ve won. Profesor Yang didn’t seem to think it was possible that the two of you could look past the one night you spent together and just get along normally, yet here you are making totally regular plans to just be in each others’ presence with absolutely no tension or weirdness whatsoever. That’s a success in your book.

You hop in on the passenger’s side. The inside of the car looks about as nice as the outside, and you suppress your giggle. It shouldn’t be so funny to you that an all-business guy like Professor Yang could still drive some piece of junk car. It’s kind of endearing that he’s so… normal. 

And then he gets in, turns on the car, and does the fucking dad thing - the thing where he puts the car in reverse, places a hand on the back of your seat, and completely fucking twists around to look out the back instead of just using the mirrors.

“Oh my God,” you can’t control your laughter.

Professor Yang throws a weird look your way as he backs out of the parking space. “What are you laughing at?”

“You really are an old man. You know, they give you mirrors for a reason. You should be careful twisting your back like that, you’re going to pull something in your old age, what with that frail, old-man body you’ve got.” You snicker, mimicking an elderly person with lower back pain.

“What are you talking about?” His eyes widen and he brakes, his hand still on your seat as he faces you. “First of all, I’m not even thirty yet, so cut it out. And I’m not going to address what you just said about my body because we both know that’s not even close to the truth.”

You ignore the fact that he very clearly, possibly intentionally, just reminded you that you quite intimately know what his body is like. You ignore the fact that the way he’s posed is actually really hot because of how his jacket hangs open and his sweater pulls tightly across his muscled chest. You ignore the fact that it would be so easy for him to lean over the console and kiss you. 

You swallow hard. There are a million red flags, but you ignore them all. Remember that he’s completely over you.

“Okay but you did just address it by saying that,” you say, trying to sound unaffected.

“Come on, I can’t just let you talk about me that way. It’s a lot of work to stay this fit and here you are calling me frail and old like you’re not-” He bites his tongue. 

“Like I’m not what?” Into it? Attracted? Drooling about it every time you picture him shirtless?

“I was going to say, ‘like you’re not walking around in a twelve-year-old’s body,’ but then I decided that would just be mean.” 

Your face heats up. You really shouldn’t be talking about bodies with him right now. Not when he just said that the two of you are mature enough to just be normal with each other. It’s so tempting to remind him how not prepubescent your body is, but you finally use some good judgment and decide to watch your words. “It’s just as mean as me calling you old, so it’s only fair.”

“I guess so.” Professor Yang laughs quietly, and then he falls silent. Maybe he’s fighting the same battle as you, trying not to picture you under him. Or maybe he actually has his shit together and this isn’t an issue for him. 

For once, he finally trusts you to be normal around him. You can’t blow it.

As you drive through the city, you tune into the rock music coming from his stereo. And the music selection is so ironic it fucking hurts.

“Don't want to be no uptown fool Maybe I should go to hell, but I'm doin' well, Teacher needs to see me after school...

“I think of all the education that I missed But then my homework was never quite like this Ow got it bad, got it bad, got it bad, I'm hot for teacher I got it bad, so bad, I'm hot for teacher...”

You just sit there in wide-eyed terror as Van Halen streams from the speakers, and it takes Professor Yang a minute too long to realize what’s playing. He sucks in a quick breath when he notices, and scrambles to change the station. 

He settles on another rock station that’s currently playing Def Leppard, and you try to make light of the situation. “Do you only have rock stations programmed on here?”

Professor Yang clears his throat and tries to relax back in his seat, casually gripping the bottom of the steering wheel with one hand. “I just have a favorite genre, don’t act like you’re any different. I’m sure I could probably guess what you’re listening to.”

“Go ahead, then.” You laugh. “What do you think is the last song I played on my phone?”

His lips press into a line as he thinks. “Okay, this is somewhat of an educated guess. I’m going to go with “Superstitious” by Stevie Wonder.”

“Solid choice, but that’s not it.” You don’t actually remember what you were listening to earlier, but you know it wasn’t Stevie Wonder. 

“Plug your phone in, then. Let’s hear it.” He fishes out the aux cord, holding it out to you. 

“Oh man,” you laugh as you pull out your phone. “You’re really gonna slam me if I’ve got something stupid pulled up.”

“That’s the point. I’m testing your taste.”

It feels like he’s in exceptionally high spirits tonight. Maybe it’s because the exhibit went so well. Whatever the case, it helps you feel lighter. You plug in the phone and open your music - and luckily you’ve got a damn good song ready to go.

“You know The Emotions?” You ask him.

“Sounds familiar.”

You press play, and “Best of My Love” picks up somewhere in the middle.

“Oh, I think I know this song!” He pipes up. “Wow, I haven’t heard this in forever.”

“It’s so good! One of my favorites, actually.” 

“Demonstrating free love and affection That you give so openly The way I feel about you, baby, can't explain it Want the whole wide world to see Oh, woah You’ve got the best of my love...”

You force yourself to avoid looking over at him as you listen to the lyrics, realizing just how terrible this song choice actually is given the history between the two of you. But still, it’s a little less applicable than Van Halen, so you leave it on. You just remind yourself yet again that you’re over him, and he’s over you. Whatever’s going on between you now is totally, completely normal and regular and fine.

As you both quietly listen to your music, you wonder what’s going on in Professor Yang’s head. Eventually he speaks up, and it’s a completely different topic.

“I’m excited to see how your dulcimer turns out,” he says simply.

“Me too. I feel pretty good about it.”

“I’m impressed with what you’ve done so far. I think it’ll sound quite nice once it’s finished.” He makes a right turn, sparing a glance your way. “The true test will be part of your final.”

“What do you mean?”

“For the last day of class, you’ll have to write and perform a minute-long piece on your instrument.”

You squint skeptically “Don’t you think you’re giving me a bit of an advantage by telling me that now?”

“Do you know how to play a dulcimer?”

“No.”

“Do you have access to one that you could practice on?”

“No.”

“Then no, I don’t think you’re getting an advantage. I’m going to tell everyone else about the assignment next week. They’ll all have just as much time to prepare as you.”

You suppose that makes sense and he isn’t actually giving you any kind of benefit, but you can’t help thinking of all of the bogus grade adjustments you’ve had to confront him about. It sits with you weirdly, and you struggle to decide whether you should say anything about it.

Eventually you reach your destination. He lives in a cute little neighborhood on the north side in one of those little houses that has been converted into apartments. There aren’t any open parking spots on the street in front of his place, but he manages to find a spot on the next block. 

As he parallel parks, he turns around in his seat again to look out the back. And this time when he twists, he hisses and grabs his back like he’s in pain. “Ah, so old…”

It’s incredibly obvious that he’s faking because he’s a terrible actor, and you laugh. “This is why we have mirrors.”

He laughs with you and finishes pulling into the space. You both hop out and grab a few instruments from the back, and you let him lead the way down the sidewalk.

Professor Yang pauses at the door while he fishes for the right key. “I should warn you, I have a cat. Are you allergic?”

“Nope,” you smile. “I love cats!”

“He can be a little shy so he might not say hello.” He opens the main door and holds it open for you to step inside. You’re confronted with two more doors - one straight ahead and one to the right. He slips past you to unlock the one in front of you. He flips the light switch, illuminating the full length of the wooden staircase that heads directly up into his apartment. “Sorry to make you go up and down so many stairs. If you want, you can just stay down here and I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you scoff. “I’m here to help. I’m not just going to stand around and watch.” You confidently cross the threshold into his apartment, taking the literal first step into his personal life. You feel kind of nervous about coming inside, but you suck it up. This is only a big deal if you make it one, and you refuse to do that.

The stairs drop you off at a hallway that stretches off to your left, and an open kitchen and living room area is off to the right. You can’t see too much of it because the lights over there are still turned off, but you can see the tall window-doors that lead to the balcony outside.

“You can drop them off in the living room. Don’t worry about taking shoes off since we’re just heading back out again anyway.” He comes up behind you and flips another light, illuminating the living room and kitchen.

You do as he instructs, placing the instruments against the wall in the living room. The room is minimally decorated with a nice couch, a single armchair, and two large bookcases filled to the brim with books - save for the one shelf that is packed with vinyl records. It doesn’t surprise you to see so many books and records - he seems like he’s very well-read, and he’s enough of a music lover that of course he’d enjoy listening to records.

As much as you want to check out his collection, you know that you shouldn’t explore his apartment. You’re here to unload his instruments. That’s it.

You force yourself to turn away from the bookshelves and vaguely gesture towards the stairs. “Shall we?”

It takes a few trips, but eventually you get all of the instruments inside. All the while you’re incredibly aware of how close he is when he holds the doors open for you, or how damn cute the back of his head is when you’re following him down the stairs. You hate it - how can the back of a head be cute?

Over and over, you remind yourself: I’m over him. I’m over him.

You set down the last guitar with a small sigh. “I can’t imagine you having to do all of this by yourself. I’m glad I came to help.”

“I could have handled it, but thank you for your assistance.” Professor Yang steps into the kitchen. “Do you need anything to drink before I take you home?”

“Oh, no, thank you.” You shake your head, not wanting to impose. “Um, but can I use your restroom?”

“Sure. It’s the second door down the hall.” He gestures around the corner.

You follow his directions. When you’re finished peeing and washing your hands, you notice a pretty blue cologne bottle sitting on his counter. You pick it up and sniff it. Sure enough, it’s exactly the cologne you remember smelling on him. It’s absolutely delicious, and against your better judgment, you spritz it once on the inside of your jacket, zipping it up to lock in the scent and hopefully keep him from noticing the weird-as-fuck thing you just did.

When you come out of the bathroom, you head back towards the kitchen, but just then he comes out of his bedroom, startling you and nearly bumping into you.

“Oh!” You shout as you jump backwards, laughing. “Sorry.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“It’s okay.” You brush it off.

He sniffs the air, and that’s when you know you fucked up. “Did you spray my cologne?”

You bite your lip, knowing there’s no point in lying. “I did.” He looks at you questioningly, so you fill in the gaps. “It just smells really good. I’m sorry.”

Professor Yang just watches you, and you’re fully aware of what a terrible idea it was to spray his cologne. And also what a terrible idea it was for you to even step foot into his apartment, let alone get in a car with him.

The rapid beating of your heart tells you that you’re still not over him. You don’t want to be over him.

What are you doing here? Why did you let yourself get to this point? 

You need to leave. You need to turn around and get yourself out of this mess. But for some reason, you’re completely captivated by his gaze, frozen in place and entirely unable to save yourself from the impending disaster.

It’s been far too long since he’s said anything, and you’re dying to know what’s going on in his head. “What are you thinking right now?”

Too honestly, he responds, “It’s a bad idea for me to answer that question.”

“That answer makes it so much worse. What am I supposed to assume you’re thinking when you say that?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t assume anything.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you just answer my question.”

He huffs. “I’m thinking that you shouldn’t have come here. That you’re only twenty. That I can’t trust myself to…”

“Hm?” You hum, encouraging him to finish his sentence.

“I can’t trust myself to make good choices around you.”

Your heart beats wildly in your chest. Is he struggling just as much as you? Is he feeling the same pull of temptation, knowing that you’re all alone in his apartment, literally steps away from his bedroom? You have to be careful about what you say. “You’ve been doing a great job so far.”

“Why are you here?”

It’s obvious that he’s questioning your intentions, just like he did the first time he realized you were in his class. “I swear I just came to help with your instruments. I’m not trying to be sneaky.”

“Right.” Professor Yang’s lips press into a tight line, and you’re dying to know what’s going on inside his head.

It feels like he’s faltering. Like he’s holding your gaze for too long, keeping you in this apartment longer than you should be. You can’t help but feel responsible for getting yourself out of this before you both make a mistake.

But… part of you doesn’t want to stop this moment, doesn’t want to break free from whatever trap you’re falling into. 

“I don’t know what to do.” You don’t think carefully enough about your words. “It feels like… we’re already keeping a secret. One more won’t make a difference.”

“You know damn well that the secret isn’t the issue. You’re my student. That’s the issue. It’s morally wrong.” Even as he speaks, you can feel that he doesn’t totally stand behind his words. Like he’s trying to convince himself that it would be wrong to act on whatever he’s feeling right now.

You remember everything Yanan told you about how Professor Yang has always had a rock-solid stance against teacher-student relations… But it seems like he could be questioning his own morality. If he really wants to shut this down, he could just break out of this moment and head for the car, drive you home and forget this even happened.

But he doesn’t.

It’s painfully silent between you - no one wants to make a move, no one wants to withdraw. You're desperate to just talk about all of this, but you're terrified of what could happen if you speak. You’re just stuck in this awkward limbo of not knowing what’s going to happen next.

You want so badly to reach out to him. To pull him close and feel him. You wonder what he’d be like as a lover now that you’re no longer strangers. It would be so easy for you to find out…

You take one small step towards him as a small sign that you’re open and willing, academia be damned. Professor Yang’s lips part ever so slightly as he scans your face, but he doesn’t back away.

Suddenly, there’s a noise in the kitchen, and you jump away from Professor Yang as if you’ve been caught - but it’s just his cat spilling its food all over the kitchen floor. 

Still, that cut in the tension is enough to pull you out of the moment and help you clear your head. This is bad, and you need to leave. You refuse to look at him as you mutter, “I need to go.”

The second you try to pass him to hurry down the stairs, he turns and reaches out, grabbing you by the wrist and stopping you in your tracks. The heat of his hand sears your skin.

“What are you-”

Before you can finish your question, Professor Yang pulls you into him, wraps an arm tightly around you, and presses one long, powerful kiss to your lips. 

Your whole body lights up from head to toe. It’s an adrenaline rush like no other, a hit of the drug you were hopelessly addicted to that one summer night. This is exactly what you’ve been craving - his strong arms and soft lips remind you just how badly you’ve wanted his touch.

When he breaks the kiss, he presses his forehead to yours, breathing shakily. “Why can’t I get you out of my head?” And in that moment, it’s shockingly clear to you that he’s struggling with all of this just as much as you are. 

God, you’re so done for. This man completely owns your heart. Without a doubt, you’re a complete and total sucker for him. And it’s frighteningly easy for you to own up to that, as you say the most dangerous thing you could possibly say: “You don’t have to, Hongseok.”

His jaw visibly clenches when you say his name, and his voice is strained when he finally speaks. “Tell me again that you need to leave. Tell me to drive you home right now.”

“If I don’t?” You challenge.

“Then there’s no reason why I shouldn’t keep you here.” Hongseok swallows thickly. “So tell me I should take you home.”

Your pulse is through the roof as he pulls back and your eyes lock, and you know that you’re way too impulsive to do as he asks. You’ve been pining after this man for months, and here he is, kissing you and practically admitting that he feels the same way. You can’t just go home now.

“I don’t want to go home.” You grab onto the hem of his sweater and tilt your chin upwards, inviting him to kiss you again. “I only want you.”

This feels nothing like the night you met him, when he was playful and sure of himself. It’s like you can sense all of the weight he’s carried with him over the last few months. His eyes scan over your face, and you get to see the slightest smile on his lips before he finally leans in to close the gap.

Just like that, you get everything you’ve wanted from him. Hongseok’s lips are just as plush as you remember and you completely melt into the kiss, and his rough hands cup your face. You feverishly return each kiss, grabbing fistfuls of his sweater and pulling him towards you. Your nose bumps the rim of his glasses, but you don’t mind it one bit.

Hongseok kisses you like his life depends on it. He yanks your jacket off of your shoulders, tossing it onto the ground as he backs you into his bedroom. Every time he cups your cheek or grabs your waist, you feel like you could just shatter in his hands. 

You’re finally getting your fix and you love it. 

His passion is explosive as he kisses you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in close. The strength and heat of him surprises you, as if your body has forgotten what it’s like to be with him. His lips are so soft and warm, and you’re swallowed whole by your insatiable lust for him.

You slip your hands under the hem of his sweater, desperate to feel his skin. You can feel every defined muscle as you drag your fingers across his back, and you moan quietly against his mouth when you feel his hand reach down to squeeze your ass.

Pleasure shoots through you with every small contact. His breath mingles with yours and gives you life, each kiss keeping your heart beating happily in your chest. Everything just feels so damn good. 

You both stumble towards his bed, tearing at each others’ clothes until you finally get that sweater off of him and he gets you out of your top as well. The backs of your legs bump into the edge of his bed right before he pushes you back onto the comforter. You fall onto your back, and he leans over you, his mouth latching onto your neck as his hand fiddles with the button of your jeans.

You drag your fingers through his silky hair, and you feel him suck deeply on the skin at the base of your throat. It’s just strong enough to hurt a little, and you dig your nails into his back. “Oh my God,” you moan, absolutely possessed with lust as he marks you.

Hongseok yanks off your pants, and releases you so that he can unfasten his own. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch as he unclothes himself, his round glasses still perched on the bridge of his nose. He is just breathtakingly gorgeous.

There’s so much you want to ask him - was it hard for him to see you in class? Has he been thinking of you this whole semester? But you don’t ask any of those things, because you’re terrified to draw attention to your academic relationship. Sleeping with your professor is obviously the wrong choice to make, but you honestly couldn’t give a shit about any of that right now. It’s almost thrilling for you to know that you’re doing something you shouldn’t - but if you remind Hongseok of that, there’s a chance he’s not on the same page.

Hongseok smiles at you with that drop-dead gorgeous grin he has, and you know that at least right now he’s content to have you like this, spread out on his bed and waiting for him to finish getting naked. And that’s enough for you to decide to let the whole thing go and just enjoy living in the moment. You’re not going to ruin this by worrying.

As soon as he drops his pants, he’s on you again, like he couldn’t stand another second of distance from you. Hongseok’s mouth peppers your chest with kisses as a hand snakes beneath your back to unclasp your bra. He frees you from the garment, and his mouth eagerly wraps around one of your nipples, tonguing it and sucking gently.

“Bite it,” you plead, and he very willingly does as you ask. His teeth pinch your nipple, and you nearly cry out because it feels so good.

The last time you and Hongseok hooked up, you might have taken all the time in the world to get to explore each other’s bodies, but you could tell tonight would not be that way. You’ve both waited long enough for this dam to break and you need him so desperately.

You tug on his hair and he roughly palms you through your underwear, rushed and eager. After just a few moments he pushes your panties to the side and runs his fingers across your slickness. You’re so wet for him already.

He aggressively plunges one finger inside of you, practically shuddering at the way you moan when he does. He pumps a few times before slipping in another finger.

Then he pulls away from you. “Don’t move.” He goes over to his closet, and pulls down a box of condoms from the shelf. You smile, and then become quickly distracted as he pulls off his boxer briefs, his hard cock grabbing your attention. 

He rolls on the condom and yanks you to the edge of the bed, slipping off your panties before bringing your legs to rest on his shoulders. He lines up the head of his cock with your pussy and presses inside of you, covering your legs with kisses and bites as his hips buck into yours.

It’s absolutely incredible and you’re so full with every thrust. His hips snap wildly into you and you moan, loving every second of this. Pure pleasure shoots through you, and then you fucking open your eyes.

It’s easy for you to just screw your eyes shut when you’re having sex, because closing your eyes lets you focus more on the pleasure that you feel. But when you look up to see Hongseok staring down at you with those sharp eyes of his, his rough fingers digging into your thighs, his abdominal muscles flexing every time his cock disappears inside of you… how could you not allow yourself to watch?

“You’re so fucking hot, oh my God…” The words come out against your will, but the deadly smirk on his lips makes you not regret it.

“I know.”

Cue the eyeroll. “And still a cocky little shit.”

“I might be.” Hongseok pulls your legs down so that they fall to either side of his waist, and he leans down over you, his lips brushing your ear. It’s clear that he’s not affected by the insult, and judging by the way the pace of this thrusting increases, you can only assume that he’s trying to prove his worth.

His forearms scoop under your upper back and his hands cradle your head as he fucks you, his kisses overwhelming your senses. You slip a hand between your bodies to rub your clit, and you moan against his mouth.

Pleasure burns through your body, your heart racing with each kiss, each thrust. The only thought in your head is the repeated chant of more, more, more, I need more. His cock slides deliciously in and out of you, completely covered in your wetness, but it isn't enough. Your fingers tirelessly press circles into your clit, but it isn't enough. You need more.

"Hongseok…" You mewl his name when he finally comes up for air. 

His eyelids hang heavily as he hovers over you. "_____…"

Fuck, he's so beautiful. It steals your breath away to see him looking at you like this, breathing hard as he pounds into you. His gaze is possessive, like he's finally claimed you, and you honestly wouldn't mind calling yourself his. But that's neither here nor there. 

You forcefully clench around him, squeezing his cock with all you've got. He certainly notices - he hisses as his eyes pinch shut at the feeling of you so tightly wrapped around his cock. His deep groan sends a shiver down your spine.

Hongseok’s voice is low as he says, “Christ, you feel so good.”

You don’t know what to say, or if you should even say anything. Hongseok’s expression is so serious as he locks eyes with you, like he’s genuinely lost in your gaze. It’s intimidating, yet it makes your heart race in the most incredible way.

You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, noting how easily the soft strands slip between your fingers and how his whole face softens at the touch. Hongseok’s eyes close as he leans into your hand, enjoying the gentle intimacy.

He slows the pace of his thrusting until he’s languidly rolling into you, his arm muscles bulging beneath you as he holds himself up. You move your hand to cup his face, and he presses a kiss to your palm, never breaking eye contact.

Fuck. You remember exactly why it was so easy to pretend like you were in love that first night.

Your fingers trace over his cheekbone, his jaw, his lips, remembering the excitement of exploring him for the first time. This time feels so different - it’s a weird combination of a dangerous thrill and caution. It’s impossible to remove from your mind the fact that you really shouldn’t be doing this - you’re too overwhelmed by wanting him to pay much attention to the rules of reality.

But you see it on his face, too. The trepidation, the hesitation, and the incredible amount of desire that overrides everything else. 

As if Hongseok can tell that you’re beginning to overthink, he presses another kiss to your hand and gives you an easy smile. Softly, he murmurs, “It’s just you and me tonight.”

Aaaannnnddddd suddenly you’ve melted into a complete puddle.

“Just you and me,” you echo. 

Hongseok lowers himself, meeting your lips with another passionate kiss. You grab hold of his hair and return each kiss, moaning quietly as he picks up his pace ever so slightly. His tongue slides between your lips as your hand returns to your clit, electric pleasure pulsing through you once more.

You are absolutely content to stay here all night, trapped in his embrace with his cock thrusting deep inside of you with every movement. You don’t want a single centimeter of space between you and him. 

When you’re both breathing too hard to kiss properly, his mouth travels down to your neck, pressing sloppy kisses along your throat. Every swipe of his tongue draws a quiet cry from you, and you clench your muscles around his cock to return the pleasurable favor. 

You hear a deep moan from him, confirmation that you’re making him feel good, too. It’s like music to your ears; all you want is for him to feel good.

Instead of continuing to touch yourself, you use both hands to scrape the short tips of your fingernails down his back to elicit more sounds from him. And then you cup his ass and encourage him to press harder, deeper. And you keep clenching.

“Jesus Christ,” Hongseok mutters. He’s unraveling in your hands. You can feel it.

“What is it, Hongseok?” You play dumb, letting out a sweet moan just a moment after posing your question.

“You keep squeezing me…” Hongseok’s breath is shaky, and part of you loves seeing him so affected by you. “It feels so good, fuck.”

Digging your fingernails into his ass cheeks, you ask, “Do you want to cum?”

You clench around him again right as he’s about to answer. “Aaahhh… fuck, oh my God.” He looks up at you with the slightest smile on his face. “What are you doing to me?”

“Making sure you feel good.” You smile coyly at him. “Is it working?”

“Yes. Fuck.” Hongseok lets out a short laugh.

Boldly, you ask, “Why don’t you cum for me then? Let me see you cum...”

“Is that what you want?”

“Mhm.” You nod, smiling.

Hongseok lowers his lips to your ear. “Alright, sweetheart.”

The nickname shocks your core - you don’t know why you’re such a sucker for it. You’re inclined to believe that just about anyone could call you sweetheart and immediately have you begging to be fucked. 

What strikes you, though, is the slight difference you sense between hearing the nickname from Yanan versus Hongseok. When Yanan called you sweetheart, it felt sleazy, like he knew what kind of power it would hold and he wasn’t afraid to use it. That was hot in its own right. But when Hongseok calls you sweetheart, it feels strangely gentle and warm. Maybe it’s because of the way he holds you as he says it, the way his breath sweetly breezes past your ear. There’s something undeniably lovely about Hongseok, especially when he’s got you in his bed.

You press your lips to his temple, small moans coming from you as he keeps thrusting. The stretch of his cock feels absolutely amazing, and you’re completely captivated by every sensation - the rolling of his hips, the grip of his hand in your hair, the scent of his sweat mixing with his cologne.

With another clench of your pussy around his cock, you sense him hold back a moan, like he’s trying to hide just how easy it is for you to elicit a response from him. But at this point, you can’t be fooled. He’s so enamored by you that he couldn’t even let you reach the front door. And that fact is absolutely going to go to your head. 

Hongseok loses himself in you, thrusting into you and biting your neck, sucking your skin harshly and drawing a pleasured cry from you. It feels like he wants to absolutely devour you. If you could give him any more of yourself, you absolutely would. 

His breathing becomes ragged and you know that means he’s close. You card your fingers through his hair and whisper his name, and Hongseok lifts his head up to gaze down at you. His eyelids are heavy with lust, his lips parted from breathing hard. 

“_____…” Hongseok murmurs your name, his eyes pinching shut. Your eyes just skim over his face, taking in his gorgeous expression. His hips snap into you a few more times until he empties into the condom, and it’s just as incredible to watch as you remember.

Hongseok almost immediately dives in for another kiss as soon as he finishes. You eagerly reciprocate, still in need of your own release. His lips are devastatingly soft and you don’t think you’ll ever get over it.

Without leaving your lips, he lifts himself off of you, allowing his hand to roam over your curves. You feel terribly empty when he pulls out, but his cock is quickly replaced by his fingers. You groan against his mouth as his fingers gently pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing circles into your clit.

Finally, he releases your lips, and without a word he repositions himself on the bed so that he’s kneeling between your legs, pressing fervent kisses to your thighs. The teasing doesn’t last long, though - surely he can sense how desperate you are for more.

His mouth quickly moves to your pussy, gently kissing and licking your folds while his fingers continue gliding in and out. And then he finally reaches your clit, and your whole body warms with pleasure.

Hongseok’s tongue is wet and hot as it works your clit, and he looks so fucking hot between your legs like this. You’re absolutely drowning in pleasure and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

You don’t dare to hold yourself back, moaning freely to let him know just how amazing he is at going down on you. With each suck, each flick of his tongue, you become more unraveled, the tension in your belly growing astoundingly fast.

You curse under your breath, wishing you could just enjoy this forever. Hongseok’s hand roughly grips your thigh, calloused fingers digging into your soft skin. His mouth sends waves of pleasure through your body. And on top of it all, your heart pounds rapidly in your chest, making you believe there’s a chance this could possibly be something special.

Hongseok’s fingers pulse in time with his tongue, and before you know it the coil snaps. Your entire body tightens and releases as your orgasm crashes over you, powerful warmth racing through your veins. Wave after wave hits you, and Hongseok presses a flat tongue against your clit as you ride it out, and the walls of your pussy rhythmically squeeze his fingers.

It seems like a solid minute of pure bliss before the feeling eventually fades. Hongseok retracts his fingers and lips, and he takes a moment to tie off the condom and toss it into the trash can next to his dresser. And then Hongseok joins you on the bed, wrapping you in his strong arms as sleep tugs at your eyelids.

You wake up unbearably hot, and it doesn’t take you long to realize why. You’re completely pressed up against Hongseok’s naked body, and that man is a radiator.

You smile at his sleeping face for only a moment before you start to fill with dread.

You hadn’t meant to spend the night, but you did.

You hadn’t meant to sleep with your professor, but you did.

It was an accident the first time. This time is completely inexcusable.

What were you thinking? How could you have let any of this happen? You’re fully aware of the consequences and yet you slept with him anyway. And you spent the night.

You peel yourself off of him. He seems to be a heavy sleeper and he doesn’t notice the movement, thank God. You hurry out of the bedroom, pulling on your clothes as you find them on the floor until you’re dressed enough to head out. And right as you reach the stairs, you hear him.

“_____?”

You pause. Of course you couldn’t just slip out unnoticed. 

But you have to leave. You don’t want to talk to him about any of this right now. You’re up to your eyes in anxiety and you just need to get out. You can’t even muster up the courage to turn around and see if he’s out of bed.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all you can think to say as you rush down the stairs and out the door.

The three hour train ride to get you home is too long for you to be left alone with your own thoughts. The fact that your jacket smells like Professor Yang’s cologne certainly doesn’t help. You replay last night’s events over and over in your mind, partly thrilled by the memory of sleeping with him and partly disappointed in yourself for your bad decision-making.

Last night was incredible. Spending time with Professor Yang at his showcase was actually really fun, and you have a new admiration for his talents and intelligence. Chatting with him in the car was so comfortable. And the way he fucked you…

You bury your face in your hands and lean towards the window of the train, hiding because you’re embarrassed to be having such lewd thoughts in public. You pull your turtleneck collar a little higher just to make sure the lovely hickey he left is appropriately hidden.

What are you going to do when you see him in class after break? Just pretend like nothing is going on as per usual, you assume. 

And what does this mean for everything with Kino? You’re supposed to be spending this short vacation thinking about what kind of future you want with him, not figuring out whether you regret an undoubtedly terrible choice you just made.

And Wooseok… you haven’t even addressed the fact that you were supposed to be at his place last night instead of Professor Yang’s. He hasn’t reached out to you either, so you assume that he was too drunk to remember your plans.

You’re going to have to dump all of this on Minseo as soon as you see her at the train station, since she’s the only one in the world who knows what happened between you and Professor Yang this summer. And honestly, you’re not sure if she’s going to be thrilled or pissed by what you’ve done.

You spend most of the train ride trying to distract yourself with music and a book, and by the time you arrive you actually start to feel excited about seeing Minseo. You tuck your book back into your backpack, grab your suitcase from the front of the train car, and step off of the train. The platform is full of other disembarking passengers, and you assume she must be waiting inside the station’s lobby. 

You pull out your phone as you roll your suitcase towards the lobby, and you’re surprised to see that she hasn’t responded to your text confirming what time she needed to be here to pick you up. That’s not necessarily a bad sign, but it’s not promising. You decide to try calling her, but she doesn’t answer. 

“I swear to God, if you forgot about me…” You seethe an empty threat at your phone as you hang up.

And then you hear your name called over the rumbling of your suitcase next to you. It’s a voice that you never in a million years expected to find here at this train station.

Your eyes dart around the room until you finally locate him, your heart completely stopping and your stomach dropping to the floor. 

He’s actually here. Right in front of you.

Your brother is here.

“Jinho?”

POST SCRIPT | Thank you for reading! Please stay tuned for Part 10, and let me know if you want to be tagged when I post it!

UPDATE | Read Part 10 here!

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED © GWENTORYFICS. NO TRANSLATIONS, REPOSTING, AND/OR MODIFYING OF THE MATERIAL IS ALLOWED WITHOUT MY DIRECT PERMISSION.

[aal-archaeology]

Words from a so-far successful archaeologist (25 years old/recent Ph.D. admit)

Hello Everyone!  I have revived my Tumblr to find many messages asking “what do I do next” when it comes to Archaeology/Anthropology. So I thought I’d create a post explaining what I went through to get to where I am now, and hopefully give some information to those who are pondering on the next steps to take in this truly wonderful field of study.  Quick academic about me: 

Undergrad: Ivy League, Major: Anthropology-Geography, Minor: Religion

After Undergrad: 1 year of Cultural Resource Management (CRM) & Substitute teaching

Graduate School: England MSc in Archaeological Information Systems

After Graduate: 10-month long research grant in Cambodia

Now: (USA)  Ph.D. Candidate in Anthropology, Archaeology Track

I come from a low-middle class family, all of my academics have been funded through financial aid or through grants that I’ve applied for. A lot of the time school and research can get expensive, but that doesn’t mean you have to be wealthy to pursue it!

Per usual, please feel free to DM me at any point with questions (here or IG @ aal.archaeology), I’m always happy to help to the best of my ability. Success in this field is really dependent on networking!

I’ll set this up based on the various landmarks of my academic career: 

1. Undergrad

Themes: Ask for help, build your resume, write down everything

No matter where you are going to school, it is so so so important to use the resources around you. Becoming a professor is HARD work, and each one of your professors went through a lot to be able to stand in front of you and teach you. They’ve likely had years and years of research experience, which is probably still happening behind the scenes of teaching and grading papers. More often than not, professors want to help you, they want students to be excited about the research they’ve worked so hard on, and they want to do what they can to help you achieve your career goals.  Therefore, if there’s a class you’ve taken or a professor whose research you’re interested in, tell them. This is how I got my first experience with archaeology (before I even knew that I wanted to do archaeology). I randomly took an Anthropology class that sounded cool, and after the first class, I was like WOW I love this topic so much and I really want to know more about it. I went up to the professor that was teaching it, told her I was really interested and asked if she knew of any research opportunities available. She then hired me as a student researcher in her lab to do data entry for one of her archaeological projects in Mesoamerica, and after working for her for a few months, she asked me if I wanted to go with her and her team to Mexico for fieldwork. 

         (my timeline at this point: 19 years old, end of Sophomore year)

From this experience, I learned how to apply to grants within the University and funding outside of the University, and was able to FULLY fund my research experience in Mexico. During this fieldwork, I got to work with 3000-year-old artifacts, do archaeoillustration, and eventually got my own chapter published in the book that my professor wrote about the research that was done.

After I got back from Mexico, I started exploring archaeology further. A new professor entered the department who specialized in “digital archaeology,” and his research involved tracking looting patters in Syria using satellite imagery. I thought this was crazy so I then went up to him and asked if I could help him with his research. (the common theme throughout this entire process is just asking for help). From this experience, I learned that I loved the possibilities that technology brought to the study of archaeology, everything from 3D modeling to identification of sites in satellite imagery to spatial mapping in GIS. With this professor, I was able to form an “internship” with him, and continued doing that and other minor projects within the department. I ended up modifying my major to incorporate coursework from the Geography department and created my own “Digital Archaeology” major.

        (my timeline at this point: 22 years old, Senior year)

As graduation began to creep closer, I had been able to get a good amount of lines on my resume. I had:

research assistant/ data entry

fieldwork in mesoamerica

x2 internships with digital archaeology prof

multiple “small” projects around the department i.e. making posters, painting 3D prints of bones,

all of the coursework I had done on GIS/ relevant digital experience

started a drone club at my school (it flopped, but it still counts as a line on the resume!)

All of these lines became useful when starting to think of jobs and the “next step”

UNDERGRAD HIGHLIGHTS & TAKEAWAYS:

Ask for help, your professors are there for a reason, it will almost always lead you to new opportunities. These relationships last well beyond your graduation and definitely come in handy later, make it count!

Write down EVERYTHING that you do. Did you help out with a conference? Write it down. Did you do a couple hours of data entry? Write it down.

Follow your leads! I started my anth journey in Mesoamerica and ended my undergrad in Near Easter digital archaeology (and I entered college wanting to do astronomy?). Change is natural, let it happen.  

2. Gap Year Between Undergrad and Grad School

Highlights: Job applications, field school, CRM, uncertainty

Something that I was always told during my undergrad was that you really need to do a field school and some CRM to be taken seriously post-grad. This shows that you actually want to be an archaeologist outside of the classroom environment. Field Schools and CRM give you valuable experience such as: excavation methodology, report writing, grant applications, teamwork, leadership, etc. 

I started applying for jobs probably about 5 months before I graduated and ended up securing a job at a CRM company in LA. They liked how much I had done during my undergrad, but they really wanted me to have a field school under my belt before I started working for them. Because I had already graduated and didn’t need course credit, I was able to do my field school at a discounted price (these things really do get expensive, and this was a difference of about $2k). I think this worked out in my favor waiting until the summer after I graduated because it saved me a lot of money in the end. 

After my field school was done, I started work that September in CRM. This job ended up being nothing like what I thought it would be, to be honest. I was an Archaeological Field Technician that was part-time/on-call, meaning I only got work when they needed someone to go monitor a construction site. I only got work once every month, sometimes every couple of months, so I was making hardly any money. I realized this quickly and decided to become a substitute teacher to supplement the CRM job. I HIGHLY recommend doing this if you end up in the same situation. Not only does subbing fill up all of your non-working days, but it also gives you the flexibility to choose when you can work and gives you teaching experience that you can put on your resume. That CRM experience can be really important, so it’s good to stick it out long enough to quit.

      Why didn’t I like CRM? For me, my job was very sparse, included driving long hours to a construction site, sitting there all day in case archaeological material popped up, and then driving home. Sometimes it was just walking back and forth across a massive field full of cow poop looking for arrowheads, and often it felt like I was just clearing land so that a big building could be erected. I was really missing the research component to all of it. The pay was also not great. 

GAP YEAR HIGHLIGHTS AND TAKEAWAYS:

What I got from this year was very valuable, even though it wasn’t necessarily that fun, however. 

I got the experience I needed in CRM

I got some teaching experience (also volunteered to mentor clubs and research at local high schools during this time)

I started doing some networking (I found some alumni that were doing work that I wanted to be doing and reached out to them)

and most importantly, I realized that I really do love school and wanted to go back for my Masters

So I started looking into Masters's programs. This is kind of a scary thing especially in the US because school is expensive. I still really wanted to do Digital Archaeology, and I couldn’t find a single program in the US had a focus in this topic, and especially couldn’t find one that I was willing to pay for. 

The UK, however, had plenty of Digital Archaeology programs, and the programs were only a year long and a fraction of the price in the US. I decided to take a chance and apply, got in, and then suddenly I was moving to England. (in hindsight I really didn’t spend much time at all making this decision, but it worked out in the end). 

3. Masters Program

         (my timeline at this point: 23-24 years old)

I chose the program I applied to based on its focus on the techniques that I wanted to use, namely, remote sensing, GIS, and 3D modeling. I really wanted a degree qualification that spoke for itself, and therefore applied for an MSc in “Archaeological Information Systems.” 

I had done some networking during my gap year and connected with an alumnus who was doing research in Cambodia using digital methods, and she offered me the opportunity to join her fieldwork. I agreed to join her in Cambodia during my degree, and also applied for a research grant for the year following my master's degree to continue fieldwork in Cambodia. 

I used this opportunity to fuel my dissertation topic and focused all of my writing and coursework throughout my grad school experience around Cambodia. While I was surrounded by people studying Roman architecture and Medieval Studies, I spent my time doing independent work and building a network in Cambodia. 

This program was a great experience for the most part, I was surrounded by beautiful medieval architecture and had a great community throughout. I personally didn’t really like the UK school system compared to what I had received in the US, however. This was largely because of the way coursework was set up. (If you want to know more just DM me).

MASTERS HIGHLIGHTS AND TAKEAWAYS:

Follow networking opportunities, and find someone doing what you want to do (or close to it) and let them help you take the steps to get there

If you’re going to do grad school, do it in something you know you love. Don’t waste money on a program that isn’t right for you.

Make sure that the program you apply to allows for flexibility so that you can do research on what YOU want, not what THEY want.

Halfway through my Master's degree, I received word that I had been accepted for the research grant (Fulbright) and would spend the next year living in Cambodia doing independent research.

4. Gap Year Between Masters Program and PhD

If you’re planning on a Ph.D., I think its a really good idea to do something before applying that relates to what you want to be studying. This shows that you’re dedicated to your research and to a life in academia, and have the ability to produce something from your work. 

My master's degree was nice because 1) it was short, only a year-long, and 2) allowed me to focus research on what I was interested in. This gave me the experience I needed to lead into a year of independent research.

This year of independent research was definitely contingent on receiving the grant in the first place, and I think that I would have started job searching again had I not received it. However, the small things I did leading up to applying for it really helped in qualifying me to receive it. 

     I had:

All of the undergraduate research experience

CRM experience

teaching experience

fieldwork experience

a master’s degree that focused on the region 

established a network of people in the country beforehand

a couple “publications” from fieldwork 

This grant fully funds me living in Cambodia, and has allowed me to participate in cultural exchange with some amazing people here in addition to allowing me to partake in archaeological fieldwork across the country. 

Again, I cannot stress enough how important it is to network. If you like something, find someone else who likes the same thing, send them an email.

Networking got me my experience in Mesoamerica, Digital Archaeology, my CRM job, my research experience in Cambodia, and so so much more. All because I sent that first email.

5. PhD Applications

I applied to 1 school. I got in. Its a really good school. I’m still in shock. 

However, I think I really did set myself up for success in this one. 

The biggest advice I can give in the world of Academia is:

NETWORK

Talking to people who have gone through what you’re going through are the BEST help. They can mentor you through these experiences, offer you new opportunities, or lead you in the direction of someone else who can help.

PLAN AHEAD (but be open to change)

Okay, so you’re applying to grad school. What do you want to focus on while you’re there? What do you want to do with the degree when you’re done? Do you want to start working? Do you want to do more research? What opportunities are out there for research funding? What is the job market looking for? Is there anyone in my network that can help me get there?

None of these have to be concrete plans, they just have to exist in some shape or form so that you have the ability to latch on to one when the opportunity arises.

If you’re doing something that you love doing, you’ll find a way to make it happen. All opportunity comes from the amount of effort you put into getting it! Thanks for reading and best of luck on your studies! Also Happy Anthropology Day! :)  -Lyss 

[studyingfairy]

How to Study History (at uni)

Hi everyone! Now that I’ve (almost) finished my masters and have thus been a history student for four years, I thought this would be the best time to make a post with four tips about how to study history. I studied in the UK, but hopefully these tips will be helpful wherever you are in the world!

1. Do. Your. Damn. Readings.

97% of the work for a history degree is individual. If you ask me to describe my degree in one sentence, it would be “me, alone in a room, reading”. If you study history (but I think this goes for most humanities subjects), you need to do your reading, cause otherwise, you will literally do no work at all. Whether it’s for an essay that’s worth 80% of your final grade or for an optional seminar, always, always do the reading- there have been countless moments when I’ve either been the only person in the seminar who kind of knew what was going on, or when I’ve gotten extra marks during an exam because I knew a random fun fact from some extra reading I had done. So please, please do your reading.

2. Go to all your classes, you won’t have many!

Over the past four years, I’ve had anywhere between 8 and 3 hours of class a week. If you decide not to show up to the few hours you do have to be at uni for, not only will you be extremely unpopular with your lecturers, but it’ll also be such a waste of the time, effort, and money you’re putting into uni. I always calculated at the beginning of the year how much I was paying per hour of class. Trust me, it’s a lot harder to skip when you know you’re wasting £100 every hour you don’t go!

3. Pick essay topics you genuinely like (even if the lecturers hate it)

I vividly remember a lecturer telling the class we shouldn’t write essays about witches because he had read so many that he absolutely despised the topic now. Me being me, I listened to him, and it took me four years to, eventually, write an essay on the topic. Which I loved. If it hadn’t been for that guy, I would’ve discovered this interest so much earlier, and I now wish I’d just trusted my gut and gone with the topic that spoke to me the most. Always pick an essay topic you like, otherwise writing the essay will feel more like a punishment than fun, which is what it should be. This is the time to let your personality shine! I’ve written two essays on Pocahontas because I LOVE the Disney movie and, let me tell you, I enjoyed those way more than when I listened to what the lecturers wanted. You do you boo!

4. Have some fun!

I’m notorious for making up the weirdest essay (sub)titles and/or introductions. The first essay I ever turned in (on the economy of marriage in Pride and Prejudice) contained the lyrics “girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money” from a song by Good Charlotte. And, to be honest, my jokes haven’t improved much in four years, as is evidenced by the fact all the subtitles in my essay about pirates were quotes from Pirates of the Caribbean movies. Do I love thinking of those things? YES. Do I care whether others (lecturers/students) judge me for it? NO. Again: show your personality! My undergrad dissertation had chapter titles all taken from the song Lady Marmalade (the thesis was about prostitution), and guess what, my supervisor loved it. More importantly, so did I!

I hope these ramblings were semi-helpful! If you have any other questions or just want to have a chat about studying history (or scream about your fav historical figure I’m up for that too), feel free to message me!!

[makoto-nanami]

Miraculous Rewrite: Origins Part 1 (Chapter 1)

Hi, this will be my first Miraculous fan fiction, while I love the show, I most definitely have my gripes with it, how they treat their characters is something that infuriates me, and while this fic may get salty sometimes, I do love the characters, it’s just because of the status quo that the writers are instant on maintaining, they can’t grow or act sometimes completely out of character. So I’ve decided to have a try at writing a fic with my own OC in, to act as the voice of reason when Marinette starts going overboard/borderline cringy or when Adrien is a innocent baby who doesn't understand the world or when he thinks it’s okay to have a tantrum or flirt with ladybug. I’ll be following the episodes, so they won’t be too different, just told from a different perspective. Again I apologise in later chapters if I seem too have ingested a ton of salt, but know if I salt on a character I plan to resolve it at the end of the episode. I hope you enjoy!

- Also, if anyone could suggest which tags this needs because I blanked when I tagged this... (-_-’)

Origins Part 1 - Chapter 1

Many millennia ago, concepts of life were born, however, these beings realised they had too much power, a power that could easily be abused. So, they gathered to a kind human who had chosen to live in isolation from the rest of his kind and protect the world when needed, a bestowed their blessings in hopes that the human would help them. The human was confused by the seemingly god-like beings’ request, how could they trust a lowly human such as himself, a coward who turned his back on the rest of the world after witnessing the corruption such power brought to his brethren? These gods simple smiled upon this man and said you are no hero, you are no villain, you are simply an observer, a helper, someone who despite his hate to the world, chose to protect it in its time of need.

So, the man heeded their call, creating magic jewels embedding them with extraordinary blessings from these gods, the Kwami, binding them to the jewels restricting their powers. These were… the Miraculous.

Throughout history, heroes have used these jewels for the good of humanity. However, The Creator of the Miraculous realised, that two of these jewels were more powerful than the other despite his efforts of balance; the earrings of the Ladybug, which provided creation; and the ring of the Black Cat, which granted the power of destruction. The Creator knew that whoever controlled both blessings would achieve absolute power, a power that the Kwami had feared would be manipulated with malicious intent. After realising his mistake, The Creator promised that no matter what, he would observe the Miraculous, personally in their times of use, as he could not stop humanities tragedy on his own; leaving the Jewels with his disciples allowing them to distribute when humanity cried out in suffering.

However, no one can live forever without a cost. Many have tried, all of them have failed with various degrees of success. Immortality is a fickle thing. Wishing for eternal youth, cursed to never grow, burying loved ones and always begging for an end to your torment. The Creator had witnessed this, one of his many mistakes, one he most definitely wanted to learn from. So, he wished to be reincarnated, to watch the miraculous in humanities time of need. Unfortunately, souls and memories of humans are just as fickle as the body. While he would reincarnate he would inherit the life his successor, cursed to watch as the loved ones drift away, fade and die, cursed to watch with red eyes.

But that’s just a silly story my mother would tell me as a child. She would tell me how maybe I could be the next reincarnation of this strange man; I’d laugh when she would tell me that. Then suddenly out of the blue; I started having strange thoughts, dreams of another time, voices of people crying out for help. My mother, Evangeline, a woman who raised me, a woman who while not connected to me in blood, still cared for me as if her own, one day told me this story again, this time… I did not laugh, I cried. I looked at my mother; realised… she had not aged a single day since the day I had met her all those years ago, she smiled and told me I was ready. She told me of her friend who trained to protect the Miraculous and how she housed and protected him in his early days after the temple was destroyed. She then explained how it was time for me to fulfil my promise to the world and how I would be going to Paris, France to work with her friend to protect the Miraculous.

Why though? It wasn’t my responsibility; I never made any promise to the world! All I wanted to be was slightly successful, hanging out with friends and working towards achieving my dreams as a P.I! I never wanted this! But as I was on the plane to Paris, I couldn’t deny it… I felt the pull of that man’s promise; I won’t give in though, no matter what I will not be that man! I will observe but I will not change myself, I will not become him, not while I still have my dreams of friendship and life.

Once in Paris, I find myself outside of a massage shop… this looks shady. Why the hell would Eva send me to a massage parlour? Well, I need to figure out what’s going on and figure out my living accommodations, so might as well bite the bullet on this shady place.

Knock-knock.

The door opened at the force of my knock; that’s some security for world-ending jewels. I make my way into the shop and spot an old man meditating… this is just getting weirder. As I’m about to announce myself, he speaks. “Welcome, Young Creator.” He opened his eyes, widening as he took in my appearance. “Well… this was not what I was suspecting at all.” Rude. “But worry not, come and I shall explain the gaps in your memory.”

“Excuse me, but I am not that man, obviously. I am my own person, while I intend on helping him fulfil his promise… I have no intention of becoming him.”

“But…”

“I’ll help you but know that I am not him.”

He stared at me considering my words before gesturing for me to sit down. I sit as he pours green tea into cups.

“I understand. Now allow me to introduce myself, I am Wang Fu, Evangeline has told me a lot about you.”

“Likewise. However, I am a little confused about the situation here in Paris. There is no media mention of any Miraculous holders, so obviously neither the Ladybug nor Black Cat is in circulation as the powers they hold are less than subtle when used, so why am I here?”

“I see, you are correct in your deduction of the state of the Miraculous’, however, you were drawn to Paris, correct? We believe that that pull indicates humanities potential ruin. As soon as you started to have visions of the past, Evangeline contacted me, I was already here in Paris so we decided it may be best to let you settle in and learn about your role and responsibilities hopefully before the path to ruin forms. Of course, due to your age as well, we have been forced to enrol you in a local school high school.”

I blanched at this, having already graduated from a high school for the gifted where it wasn’t considered strange for children to skip grades depending on their academic standing. Great… just freaking fantastic… Fu looks at me as if looking for my opinion, I simply sigh and shrug, excepting my fate, begrudgingly.

“So… Where exactly will I be living? I mean, not to be rude or anything, but this shop/apartment isn’t exactly big.”

“Yes, my home is only so big, and I already have a littler of picky roommates. Evangeline and I have decided to let you stay at her old home while she lived in Paris many years ago. She assured me that it would be to your tastes and it isn’t too far from your new school.”

Eva’s old home? I kinda worried now, she’s the sort of person who loves antiques and old dollies, sure she grew out of it when she adopted me but if this is her ‘old’ home… It’s not exactly a place I want to be, surrounded by creepy dolls and old stuff, at least I didn’t have to pay rent… wait…

“What about money? If I live alone, won’t I have to buy food and stuff?”

“Ah yes, Evangeline told me, that while she is more than happy to supply money for food and essentials, it will be sent to an account that will record what you buy, she stressed that I tell you that money is for essentials only.”

“Sounds like Eva… did she mention anything else?”

“Oh, she told me to give you this note when you asked about money.” He hands me a small note.

-       If you want games, junk, comics/books, anything not essential… GET A JOB!

-       Love you, Eva!

Yup… that’s definitely Eva. I laugh weakly, thinking who would hire a 13-year-old kid for more than a paper-round. Suddenly a flash of green whizzed around the room, I instinctively tensed ready to defend myself but quickly feeling foolish, seeing a green Turtle like creature.

“Wayzz…” I find myself muttering, having no idea of where the name came from… perhaps one of his memories.

“Master, Master! Master, the Moth Miraculous, I felt its aura!” Wait, what?

“I thought it had been lost forever!” He lost a Miraculous?! What?!

“But Master, it’s a negative aura. I fear it may have gotten into the hands of a dark power!” Oh just great!

“We must find Nooroo and his Miraculous. If it has gotten into the wrong hands, it means the path to ruin has formed and there’s no telling what evil will come to the world!” He stands raising his fist hand to the ceiling, a green turtle shell charm bracelet reviling itself. I find myself stammering.

“Hh-hey wait a sec- “

“Time to transform! Wayzz- Hack!” He doubles over in pain. If I wasn’t so confused, I’d find this almost comical… almost. Wayzz floats over to him almost exasperated.

“Please Master. Be reasonable. You are- “

“Still young! I’m only 186.” Only?! Then again, I just found out the woman who raised me is an immortal child, so what do I know. “But you’re right, Wayzz. Young One, I can no longer do it alone, it is time… We’ll need some help.” He walks over to the gramophone and revealing a box with symbols I somehow knew all too well, a box that housed the most powerful jewels in the world, the Miraculous.

As we roam the streets of Paris, I notice a school. Other kids making their way inside, chatting about their summer vacation. I feel myself dread at the idea of enrolling during the second year, everyone already knows each other, it’s gonna feel weird, dammit. We get to a crossing and I see a short navy haired girl rush out of the bakery across the street with a box in her hands, as I am about to dismiss her from my thoughts, Fu started to walk forward acting frail and old despite the light still being red for pedestrians. “Hey, wait!”

“Uuuhhaawh?!” The girl rushed out and grabs him by the hand, taking him to the other side of the street, dropping the box in the process. The light changes and I rush over, noticing people stepping on the baked goods that fell out the box.

“Thank you, miss. Oh! What a disaster.” Yeah, I wonder who’s fault that is, old man. I pick the box up and hand her it back.

“Sorry about your macarons, he just walked into the road suddenly.”

“Don’t worry, I’m no stranger to disasters, besides, there are still a few left. Would you like one?” She said kindly, offering the box to pick one out. Fu reached out and took one before eating it.

“Mmmh. Delicious! Do you attend Françoise Dupont? My friend’s child here is enrolling today for the second-year class.” Wait, what’s he doing?

“Oh really? Welcome to Dupont then! Do you know which class you’ll be in?”

“Erm, I believe Miss Bustier’s class?”

“Same here! Would you like me to show you the way?”

“Oh no, there’s no nee- “

“Oh thank you, it’s reassuring that this little one will have such a friendly face in class.” What the hell old man!? As if reading my thoughts, he looked at me innocently. “After all, it’s normal for a child to attend the first day of school, right?” Ack… he goddamned planned this! I don’t know how but he definitely planned this! Aren’t I supposed to help you find the holders for the Miraculous, Fu? Again, he simply smiles as he looks at me. “I’ll inform you of my progress when school finishes.”

“Oh no, we’re gonna be late! Ah, have a nice day, sir! Come on!” She cries as she pulls me along. “Oh, how rude! I don’t think I’ve asked your name!”

“My name? Oh, it’s Alice.”

“Alice, eh? Nice to meet you, and I must say, what lovely red eyes you have!”

[rhetoricalrogue]

31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 17

Prompt: AU Rating: PG for Nicky’s language Words: 2,222 Characters: Unit Charlie, brief mention of Units Alpha and Bravo, as well as Detective Aubrey Miller. Summary: What happens when the coffee shop co-worker and the University co-worker get tired of their partners sighing over the other and decide to take matters into their own hands.  

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

Penny rolled her eyes as she came into work, hanging her coat on the nearby staff coat rack.  Nicky had gotten there earlier than she had, which meant that he got to pick the music for the day, which also meant that she was going to be in for a day of listening to him sing along with Dean Martin.  Not that it was a bad thing, but they’d done an entire shift of the Rat Pack the other day already.

“You’re late.”

She grimaced as she pulled on a dark brown apron and quickly pulled the strings around her waist to make a tidy bow at her hip.  “Yeah, car trouble.”

Nicky shook his head.  “You really ought to sell that thing, get you a new one.”

“With what money?  No, the car trouble was because my brother decided to borrow it without asking me.  I woke up to a note and had to grab the bus.  Then the bus wasn’t on time, so I walked the rest of the way.”

He poured her a drink, a smooth hazelnut latte with a dusting of chocolate on top that he made perfectly to her tastes.  At least that was something to cheer her up on a rainy morning, especially since he was practicing his foam art and made her a graceful looking swan on top.  She caught a glimpse of herself in the stainless steel overhead countertops and winced.  The soft, drizzling rain wasn’t  enough to soak her or anything, but it had played hell with her long, silvery blonde hair.  The sleek braided bun she had put it in earlier was now a frizzed out mess and her cheeks were unnaturally red from practically running to the cafe in order to be there on time.

Penny hated being late to anything.

“You’re too soft on Lars,” Nicky told her, pushing half a toasted bagel loaded with cream cheese her way while eating the other half.  “He needs to have some responsibility, especially if he’s couch surfing at your place.”

Penny chewed on her bagel.  “You don’t understand, he’s my baby brother.  It’s my job to look out for him.  Besides,” she took a sip of her drink.  “He was going out for a job interview.  Hopefully this one takes.”  She adored her youngest brother to pieces, and she understood that he was in a rough patch, but at the same time, she was quietly frustrated that he showed up at her doorstep without calling first, ate all her food without shopping for replacements, and left his dirty laundry on the bathroom floor.  She was going to have to have a talk with him once they were home to set some boundaries down.  If not, then she would happily call their eldest brother Andreas to see if he could help out before calling the big guns in and contacting their mother.

She hated to jump around in the family pecking order, but enough was enough. 

“I can relate, seeing as I have a little sister, but I still say you’re being too soft on him.  There’s a fine line between older sibling responsibility and being a doormat.”

“I know, and you’re right.  Taking my car without my permission and making me late for work is definitely something I’m going to talk with him about.”

Nicky made a mmhm noise as if he didn’t quite believe her.  “Don’t worry, Pen.” Nicky told her, changing the subject as he made his own cortado and leaned against the counter to sip on it.  “You didn’t miss him.”

She was glad that her red cheeks could hide the sudden blush that she felt rush up from her throat to her face.  “Miss who?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, donna forte!”  He elbowed her in the side.  “The Tall London Fog with the soft Scottish accent.  The one who looks like a golden retriever if a golden retriever was over six feet tall and had dimples when he smiled.”

“Careful, you make me think you’re the one with the crush on him,”  Penny muttered as she sipped on her drink.

“Please, I know I’m handsome and charming, but I’m not an asshole.  I wouldn’t steal anyone from my dearest friend and co-worker.”

“You’re not stealing anyone from anybody,” she grumped.

“Maybe if you actually got off your ass and asked him out.”

“He’s a customer!” 

“Like that’s ever stopped anyone that works here!  I mean, have you seen what the Bravo shift is up to lately?  There’s good money on when Adam’ll get the courage up to ask Miss Grande Half-Caff Nonfat Latte with Caramel Drizzle out before the end of the month.”

Penny rolled her eyes.  “Adam?  Admitting he has feelings for anyone?  I give him a year, minimum.”

“Hello, Pot.  I’d like to introduce you to Kettle.”  He turned to wash out the things he’d used to make their drinks and kicked at her calf.  “Speaking of not admitting feelings, here comes London Fog and Dirty Chai.”

Penny masked the sudden lurch in her pulse by twirling around and grabbing the loose leaf tea from an overhead shelf and measured enough into a French Press, adding a spice mix and a little bit of fresh ginger before pouring in hot water to steep.  She grabbed the canister of lavender Earl Grey she knew he liked and did the same in a separate French Press while Nicky called out a greeting, confirming that they both wanted their usuals.

“Actually,” London Fog said, coming up to the counter.  “Could I add something a little more substantial?  Perhaps one of those sausage rolls and a slice of pumpkin loaf?  I fear today is going to be a long one, seeing as it’s grading season.”

“Oh?  You’re a teacher then?”

“He’s a professor,” Dirty Chai interjected, already setting up her laptop.  She’d moved from their usual two-person table to a larger four-person one so the both of them could spread out.  “Don’t let him get modest; he’s brilliant in his field.”

Penny looked over her shoulder as she brewed a double shot espresso to add to the chai.  “Where do you lecture at?”

The soft question had him looking up at her with an equally soft smile before he quickly looked down, suddenly very interested in the counter’s bakery display.  “Wayhaven University.  I’m one of the Professors in the Folklore and Ethnomusicology department.”

Nicky took over building their order when another person came in and distracted Penny.  “What a coincidence,” he all but purred.  “Our dearest Penelope is studying on that campus!”  He caught the sudden interest London Fog gave and leaned conspiratorially against the counter. “She’s going back for her master’s degree, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh?  What study?”

“You know, for the life of me, I can’t recall.  Sounds like an interesting question to ask her though, Professor…?” Nicky trailed off, realizing that neither he or Penny knew their regulars by name, only by order.

“Buchanan.  Cameron.”

“Call him Cam,” Dirty Chai said, taking her order and sipping with a happy sigh.  “I’m Winona.”

“Nice to finally meet you both.  I’ll go warm up that sausage roll for you.”  On his way to the back kitchen, Nicky nudged Penny with his shoulder, silently winking at her.  She turned her face so Cam and Winona wouldn’t be able to see her expression and narrowed her eyes at her partner before going back to helping the short line of customers that had already started to form for the morning, shaking her head as the first heartfelt strings of Come Back to Sorrento could be heard coming out of the kitchen, Nicky’s smooth baritone making one of the ladies in line sigh dreamily.

Penny transitioned from building orders to taking payment while Nicky bustled in behind her on cleanup and prep duty, the two of them working well.  Every so often, her eyes would stray to Cameron and Winona’s table, the two of them with their heads down and fingers clacking over their laptops. Two hours later, Cameron was looking at his watch and cursing under his breath while quickly packing his things away.

“Thanks for letting us stay so long,” he said, sticking money in the tip jar.

“It was nothing,” she told him, fiercely hoping he didn’t catch the way the tips of her ears were a bright pink.  “I’m glad you could stay with me - us long enough to get some grading done.”

He smiled and she couldn’t help but mirror the same smile back.  “I’d have loved to spend more time, but my office hours are going to be starting soon and I usually have a few students wanting to talk around this time of the year.”

“We’re always here in the mornings!”  Oh, smooth one, Fisher, she thought, mentally kicking herself for forgetting how to talk to people when the person in question was one she had a silly crush on.  Don’t flirt with customers, it’s just an awkward experience for everyone involved!

Cameron nodded.  “And stopping by is always a great start to my day.  Your partner mentioned you were studying at the university?”

“I am.”

Cameron shouldered his laptop bag and smiled again.  “Maybe we’ll run into the other on campus then.”

“I’d like that.”

“I would too.”  He blinked, as if he had been reluctant to break eye contact.  “Well, I’d better get going, or else I’m going to miss some student appointments.  I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Bright and early!”  Or so she hoped.  She really was going to have to speak with Lars about him getting his own transportation.  Penny sighed as the bell over the door chimed and tried - and failed - to not watch as Cameron walked down the street.

“He’s not that old.”  

Penny jumped at the sudden appearance of Winona at the counter.  “Pardon?”

“Cam.  He’s not that old, just in case you were worried he was some stuffy professor with a really good skin regimen.”

She let out a nervous laugh.  “I wasn’t…” Penny nervously tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear.  “I mean, I didn’t want to presume…”

“Like I said, Cam’s brilliant in his field and made career moves way before the usual timeline.  I’m guessing he’s around your age.”  She put more money in the tip jar.  “You know, if that was a deal-breaker for you.”  Before Penny could say anything in response, Winona waved and left.

Penny ran a hand down her face before frowning.  There was something other than money in the tip jar.  Curiosity getting the best of her, she fished it out, finding it was a business card with all of Cameron’s information on it.

FYI, a woman’s loopy handwriting in bright red ink read at the bottom, your partner wrote down your phone number on a napkin when he gave Cam his order.  Thought I should even the playing field and give you his too.

Penny’s eyes widened as she flipped the card over.  And BTW, he thinks you’re cute too.

“Whatcha got?”  Penny all but jumped out of her skin at the sound of Nicky’s voice unexpectedly at her ear as he tried to look at the card in her hands.

“Nothing!” she yelped, clutching it close to her chest before sticking it into her apron’s pocket.  Turning around, she grabbed Nicky by the ear.  “And what are you doing, giving strange men my phone number!”

Nicky winced, leaning down as he tried to wiggle away from her grasp.  “He’s not strange, Pen!  He’s a regular!  Practically family!  Ow, fuck!”

She let his ear go.  “You could have asked me if it was okay first!”

Nicky rubbed at his ear and rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, and at the glacier pace that either of you were moving, you may have gone out for drinks when you were both eighty.”  

She washed her hands at the prep sink and started making sure that everything they’d used was washed and ready for a new order.  Lunchtime was a sort of quiet lull, they got a few regular orders in, but it wasn’t anywhere near the morning rush.  She checked the schedule.  The Alpha shift was coming in for the afternoon to evening times, which meant that she needed to come in a little earlier tomorrow morning to make sure that things had been properly cleaned and organized and that the morning breakfast items were fully stocked.  She loved them to pieces, but Tane and Maaka weren’t the most organized of duos.  She made a mental note to check the to-go cups as well: Tane had a habit of using a marker to black out the Warning, your contents are extremely hot and make it read Warning, you are extremely hot instead.

The good thing is that on dead nights, the brothers would come up with some interesting off the menu recipes and leave notes for her and Nicky to try in the morning.  Maaka was more organized than his brother and the notes were always fun to read, especially when he added his own commentary.

“You never know,” she told Nicky, the business card in her pocket weighing far heavier than it ought to.  “I just may surprise you.”

Cha cha cha d'amour

Take this song to my lover

Shoo shoo little bird

Go and find my love

[eponymous-rose]

Hello! I know you're busy, and I hope this isn't too intrusive, but I wanted to ask about your experience with undergrad research! I'm a sophmoore physics student wanting to get into research, but not sure where to start. My professors say it can be as easy as asking, but everyone's research is so advanced I barely understand the abstract. I know we're not in the same field, but do you have any advice? What would you say if an undergrad asked if they could help you research?

Oh gosh, I had a lot of really good experiences with undergrad research! As a professor now, I’d try to make it happen for any student who expressed an interest---there’s always some money in our department to pay students for a summer research internship, and for something longer-term we have a 3-credit “Independent Research”-style setup.

For me, during my undergrad I took on two summer research positions and a sixteen-month full-time internship at a forecasting office that included some research during the winters. The internship was through a special program with the university, but the research summers were funded through a government agency (NSERC in Canada)---if by chance you’re in Canada, they’d be a phenomenal choice! In the U.S., science-wise there’s the REU (Research Experience for Undergraduates), which will fund your work on any project funded by the National Science Foundation, and if you can spin things toward oceanography or atmospheric science I know NOAA does the Hollings Scholarship, which funds research at a NOAA facility (decent pay plus room & board). NASA also has a TON of internships (I did mine as a master’s student, but they’re also open to undergrads).

But these are just sources of additional funding---often, professors and departments have money set aside to fund undergrad researchers, so you don’t have to worry about all this(and professors can tell you all about these and help you apply if they’re relevant to your field anyway). 

Basically, I went to professors whose stuff seemed interesting---like you, I definitely couldn’t parse most of what they were doing, but I had ideas like “hey, this person works on tornado stuff” or even more vaguely “I like this way this guy taught his class, I bet he does really cool research”. I just shot them an e-mail, said I was interested in doing research as an undergraduate, and asked if I could come chat with them about their research and the possibility of getting to work on it during the summer.

The first project was with a hail researcher after my second year of college, and he told me about NSERC---we put together an application, which was approved, and I spent the summer getting paid well to digitize this really old dataset that nobody had looked at, attend group meetings where this professor and his postdocs and grad students chatted about the results, and finally present some of my own results at the end. Really, really good starting point! I wound up working with the guy on an honors thesis at the end of my degree, and he wrote me a great reference letter for grad school.

After my long internship at the forecasting office, I was finishing up my final year of undergrad, and I had a real “fuck it, why not?” moment. I had this oceanography professor who was just very easy to understand, very cheerful, and had infectious energy. He was technically in the physics department, so not at all my area of study, but I figured I’d gotten an A in his class, so why not? I e-mailed him mentioning the NSERC research I’d done, told him what I’d enjoyed about his class, and asked if he had the funding for and time to supervise an undergrad research assistant over the summer, even though I wasn’t in his department and this wasn’t at all my specialty.

And he was delighted! He brought me on board (again with NSERC funding) for the summer between undergrad and grad school, and I learned all about experimental fluid dynamics: I helped build this complicated tank setup, ran laboratory equipment more valuable than a Ferrari that inexplicably still ran on Windows 95 in 2010, attended his really entertaining group meetings (I remember him working with a grad student to prep her for her Master’s defense: he put on different hats to impersonate each of her committee members and expertly predicted which questions each would ask), met a retired spy at a dinner party (??? this prof knew some cool people), and finally put together some figures for his postdoc’s paper that wound up getting published. As a result, my first-ever scientific publication is a second-author credit in the Journal of Fluid Mechanics, and ten years later I still get the occasional question about it, which is terrifying every time because hey, still not my area of expertise.

But that one gave me the amazing experience of understanding how much knowledge was transferable between disciplines: I didn’t have to be an expert on the subject matter to be helpful in a research lab. My NASA internship was working on an ecological satellite, for crying out loud. And a few weeks ago a senior colleague was telling me that the main reason they hired me was the versatility and flexibility they saw in my CV.

Undergrad research was HUGE for me, and I can guarantee that it’s something that elevates any grad school application! Even if the research feels simple or routine, having senior scientists who can write you letters of reference with more details than just “so-and-so got a grade of such-and-such in this class” is a MASSIVE advantage, wherever you decide to go after college.

All of this longwinded storytelling boils down to the advice: talk to the professors who inspire you, tell them they inspire you, and ask if you can help them do the things they love. Best of luck, and please let me know if you have more specific questions---I’ll be happy to answer!

[yhmusicteacher]

Is it difficult teaching at both a public school and Catholic school?

There are challenges teaching at both a Public School and Catholic School! I am public school educated from Kindergarten to my Masters Degree so I am a huge advocate for public school.  I am also paid, insured, and retirement packaged by the public school district, so loyalties tend to go more toward the public school arena. 

The challenges of teaching at a Catholic School for me include issues like:

1.  Money/Budget. Constant fundraising! Constant pandering to patrons and community members.

2. Oversight.  The Public School has a ton of State Dept of Ed oversight for funding and testing purposes and the catholic school do as well to keep accreditation, but it seems like the Catholics spend more time jacking around during the school year.  More parties, more free days, more time not in the classroom.  Part of that is Mass.  They go to church twice a week for and hour.  that’s a lot of classroom time.  The parents want the church time though.

3. Entirely too involved parents.  What?!  Involved parents? why complain about that? There is a line that parents can cross to be VERY ANNOYING to teachers. Constant calls, emails, always in the school “volunteering”, always nit-picking about every little damn thing going on with the school or child’s class.  Good Lord, Mom-Karen go get a job and leave your son alone for 6 hours!

4. Leadership.  Maybe it is just my Catholic School, but the principal is also a preschool teacher.  She’s not available right away for student issues.  So if someone is having a nutty, she isn’t around to be helpful or do the principal thing.  There is a 2-3 day lag time in email response and plans are made sometimes by the seat of her pants.  She also likes to make decisions by committee and not just making the decision as school leadership. So, if need an answer on something she just can't give me an answer...she’s gotta ask a few people first. 

5. Overworked teaching staff.  This isn’t really me because I am public school paid, but the Catholic School paid teachers are way overworked and way underpaid. They do their own Art Class, all the other subjects, Religion Class, have tons of recess duty, lunch duty, before school duty and after school duty, plan Mass Readings and Servers etc. TONS of extra duty that the public school teachers DON”T have to do. 

6.  Space.  The building is too small and over 50 years old.  we are out of space. It is too small for this era of education. We have no dedicated calm down room, I teach in the church basement across a parking lot, the library is on the old stage, no space for pull-out kids to have a quiet place to work with their specialist. The Public School District just had a bond issue in 2013 so I have a huge, beautiful room and at the Catholic School...a Church Basement. 

7. I’m not Catholic.  I really don’t understand that “world”. I have studied Catholicism through the eyes of Music History, but I don’t understand the pageantry, the ritual, the worship of Mary and the Saints, the rote prayers. Please understand,  I’m not dissing the Faith at all.  I’m not a cradle or converted Catholic and have no intention to be, so I get confused by the denomination in general. 

8. Grades are not an A, B, C, D, F system, but instead an E, S+, S, S-, U system. This is Diocesan thing and not my school’s policy. It does shock the alumni when they go to the public middle school and all of a sudden eligibility for extracurricular activities and sports are a big shocker.  I have taken to tell students starting in 4th grade about what to expect with grades.  To the Catholic School the learning is what matters the most and that is commendable, but the “real world” of education, especially in high school, letter grades can make or break a student. 

I’m sure there are more things I can say, but this is a fairly long list.  On the POSTIVE Side...I do have alot of normal support from many of the families! There are some very sweet moms out there who really like the Music Teacher! While teaching in two worlds is frustrating, there are many sweet moments too!