#I must burden my friends with powerpoints…..

[bandaigaeru]

summer love - lee minho

→genre: vacation au, strangers to lovers, a teeny bit of angst →synopsis: lee minho had randomly appeared on your vacation to a lake/campground. he was everywhere, until he wasn't. →word count: 11.1k →pairing: minho x fem. reader  (featuring yeji and yuna (itzy) & BooSeokSoon + mingyu (seventeen))

i.

Sunlight breaks past the slightly tinted window, crossing your eyes in a swift blinding act. You blink away, turning back into the busy car. The boy driving waves a dismissive hand back at the whining boy behind him.

"We're not stopping for coffee," the driver asserts, eyes drifting up to the rearview mirror as he shifts into the exit lane.

"Why not?" the boy behind him counters. "We're gonna pass it anyway."

"We're going camping," the girl beside you leans forward to smack her palm against the boy's shoulder.

"It's not really camping if we're gonna be in a house," he pouts, turning back to her. He even shoots a pleading gaze in your direction, as if you would have any power over this conversation with people you've briefly met.

You glance back to the blurred trees. They pass in what feels like hundreds every time you blink. Why does this have to be the last summer of freedom? Why can't time just slow down and allow you a final year of peace? An almost taunting desire to live adventurously strikes your mind. Yet even so, you're not sure you should have accepted this "camping" offer.

Yeji was certain this summer would be legendary, gripping at your shirt sleeve as she pleaded, "But please, come with. I don't think I can live with Soonyoung and Seungkwan for two weeks."

So you succumbed. Only with the faint certainty that something must come from this. Even if it was only a mundane, fleshy scar from a messy jump into the lake. You could picture a rock piercing your skin before you flinched up to water, threads of blood coursing behind you.

God, you need to live a little.

"Y/N," Yeji whines, dragging your mind back into the car.

You hum, looking over to her. Her sunglasses sat delicately on the tip of her nose, tempting to fall at the slightest twitch downward.

"Tell Seungkwan to stop his coffee cries."

"I just met the guy," you whisper, shooting a cautious glance at the pouting boy. His knees are drawn to his chest as he tempts his focus with a YouTube video.

"But you're intimidating," her lips are pursed when you return to her.

You fight a laugh. "That's a funny one."

Yuna, somehow tricked to sit in the trunk of the minivan, leans over the seat. "You are kinda scary."

They lead a powerpoint that must have been established prior to this conversation, for the specifications seem a little too clear. By the end of it, you simply shake your head. Intimidating is a strong word. You are simply quiet, you tell yourself.

The campsite is a desolate piece on the outskirts of a fancy city known for its grand skyscrapers and business opportunities. Columnar trees line a restricted area, where animals freely prance, protected by the idea of hunting. There are trails, the ranger told them when they checked in, that led to varying sights. A broad lake glitters beneath the humid sun. On top of that, clouds string themselves in sparse bursts.

At the cabin, Soonyoung and Seokmin bustle for the room with the best view.

"Hey," Yuna scolds, lugging her overfilled duffel bag on her shoulder, "Shouldn't you let the women choose first?"

For a quick moment, their eyes scan each other's faces before unisonly shaking their heads. "No."

You slip passed their noses into a barren room. White curtains inwardly swing from the impatient breeze. A deep breath parts from your lips as your eyes fall to the dark hardwood. Two weeks, you tell yourself. That's not too bad.

Deep laughter seeps from outside, sending an awakening jolt down to your feet. You lean towards the window, spotting a few boys on the lake's shore. One is chasing another with the claws of an angry crab.

"Get away from me!"

"This is karma," the other calls, kicking up lofts of sand in his wake.

In awe, you stare as the slightly shorter man catches up with the taller. Maybe two weeks will be more difficult than you thought.

ii.

A routine falls into place within the first few days. You awake before the crowd and sit on the dock for an hour. Maybe a little more, depending on the breeze. Then, you return to the cabin and sit on the porch swing, gently swinging your feet. Mingyu slips out into the humid air shortly after, his sweatpants bunched up by his ankles from sleeping.

"Do you wanna go swimming with us?" he will ask.

Your heart momentarily flutters before it dims to a burdening mass. "Maybe tomorrow."

He asks if you are sure, though he knows you will give the same nod, lips pressed into a polite smile.

You take to spending days alone, watching the clouds travel hastily across the blue sky and discreetly viewing the boys next door wreak havoc. It's calming, you remind yourself when you get the urge to accept Mingyu's offer, to be alone.

Each of your temporary roommates slips from the cabin in duos or trios. Soonyoung likes to rest an arm around whoever he's with, you notice, as though he's scared of losing them to an imaginary void. He always shoots you a smile before disappearing to wherever that day's activities bring.

On the fifth day, Yuna and Seokmin disappear on a hike with a whining Seungkwan on their tail. "It's so hot out here," he mutters as he passes you on the swing. Soonyoung and Mingyu rush to the water, shouting something about beating the mischievous boys in the cabin beside yours. Hair tied into a ponytail, Yeji steps onto the porch. She cups a 24-hour cooling bottle, taking sparing sips.

"Let's go to the lake," she sighs, sitting next to you. The teal outdoor pillows stutter beneath her weight before conforming to her shape.

You glance at her, though she doesn't turn to you. She speaks as though it's an order, not an offer.

Disturbed by your silence, she pushes, "C'mon, we've barely hung out at all. You're all solitude. We don't have to swim or anything. We can just sit on the sand."

A bitter sigh escapes your lips before you dredge into the cabin. Yeji resembles a home in this pool of unfamiliar faces, and you feel as though you can't deny her this. You pull on a bathing suit, despite her settled tune saying you didn't have to swim, and tug a pair of shorts on.

By the time you return to her, a green beach towel slung over your arm, she sits with her sunglasses veiling her eyes. Her head is upturned, looking at the birch porch ceiling. You hesitate, concerned that she might have fallen asleep, when her head twitches toward you. "Ready?" she asks, gathering her cup.

You slug towards the lake, basking in the sun's warm rays. It's not as humid as you thought it might be. A small, shaky breeze brushes against your bare shoulders.

"How's rooming with Soonyoung?" you finally say.

She sighs. "Terrible. He snores like crazy. I'm starting to regret giving you the single."

You chuckle, "It could be worse."

"How?"

"You could share a room with Soonyoung and Seungkwan."

"Oh, God," she shivers, despite the heat beaming down.

Sand invades beneath the comfort of your toes. Scalding heat shoots up your ankle as you hesitantly step. Purchasing cheap flip-flops was probably a mistake.

"Dude, I will drown you right now," Mingyu shouts.

Yeji leads you closer to them, stopping when only a couple feet barricade you from the water. She lays out her towel before tugging on her shorts' button. You follow her lead. Thoughtless, you step towards the dock, abandoning your belongings on your towel. The dock is about ten feet long, though its width bares close to six feet.

The water sways with each swing of Soonyoung's arm. You take a seat at the edge, dangling your feet until they graze the water. It's cool in contrast to the blistering grains. Mingyu pushes Soonyoung's head underwater with a broad grin. Water bubbles to the surface from Soonyoung's parted lips.

Shouts garnish the calm breeze. You glance over your shoulder. Yeji is laying flush against her towel, her eyes closed as she calmly begs for a tan. Behind her, a few running boys approach, some shedding their tops as they run.

"Minho! Give me my phone back!" a boy whines. You note that he's the same one who was being chased by a threatening crab. And the one he calls to, he glares over his shoulder with a shake of the head, is the chaser.

Minho turns back to his objective of the water before abruptly turning right, dragging the follower down the shore. His menacing laughs glide through the air, sending a sharp chill down your spine.

Begrudgingly, the chaser catches him, prying his phone away. In the distance, he looks like he presses a palm against Minho's shoulder, pushing him back. Their voices do not travel, but Minho's smile caught in the glinting sun does. You turn back to the water, whose dark surface returns the view of your eyes.

"Minho!" a voice calls behind you. You fight the temptation to turn.

"What?" the boy, presumably Minho, calls back.

You drown out the voices by slipping off the dock, plunging beneath the surface of the water. When you resurface, you brush back hairs glued against your forehead. Soonyoung points to you, begging you for a game of Chicken.

"There's only three of us," you point out, a tempting smile teasing your lips.

Mingyu glances to land, disregarding the background hassle of boys playing foot volleyball. "Yeji!" he calls.

Disinterested, her head bobs up. She pushes down her sunglasses, revealing a peek at her irises.

"Play Chicken with us!"

You can hear her sigh of defeat, pushing herself up from her towel and dropping her sunglasses. She flinches beneath the water, hands reaching to either elbow as she rubs warmth into them.

You watch her intently, until a boy peeks into your view from over her shoulder. Minho is juggling a ball with his feet. A steely grin catches his lips as his friends cheer him on. "10, 11, 12!" they chant.

You plug your nose before dropping your head underwater. When you resurface, the ball is lying against the sand, the boy's shoulders slumped. Hidden behind the fake pout, his lips remain curled.

iii.

It's weird, the way that boy takes the throne in your thoughts. He is merely a stranger from afar, who sparingly shot a glance when Mingyu shouted to him. Something about owing him for the previous night's game. His eyes, sparkling beneath the blazing sun, had resembled the water. Glinting and dark, leaving you curious and needy for more. Your thoughts brace the view of his bare chest, beads of sweat dripping from his chin as he concentrates on juggling the ball.

You have to get out of your head, you conclude.

Before the sun rises on the seventh day, you're up and ready. A small bookbag is secured around your shoulders, the contents harboring copious amounts of water and a few granola bars. You glance around the cabin—at the small leather couch constituting the living room and the oak table whose legs have fraying wood, as though a dog had thought it was a bone—before you decide it's safe to depart.

Today's destination requires you to pass your parasite's cabin. You offer a short glance through the clear panes, refocusing on the gravel path when you catch a glimpse at a sleeping boy on the couch, face illuminated by his phone. It's not the boy who haunts you, you lamentably realize.

Splashes of rose and barely visible blue tarnish the sky in a messy gradient. You stop before the overhead greenery obstructs your view. In the edge of the sky, nearly fallen on the horizon, is the moon bidding its final goodbye. "Take care," it says with a sulking wave, "I'm just past the wall."

Under the blistering glimpses of heat through the leaves, you admit that you're grateful to the shrouds of protection. Humidity snips at your skin, mimicking the crawl of an insect. You swipe at your neck, though nothing lies beneath your palm. Just the damp residue of sweat.

If someone had queried you on the matter a few months ago, you would argue that solo hiking is too dangerous to be denoted as fun. Now, within the gaze of harmless deer and the occasional rabbit, you chuckle. They peek out at you from rotting logs, blinking to each other as if to seek confirmation.

A tree twenty-or-so feet away sticks out among its comrades like a sore thumb. Lesions trail its stump, marking the initials of lovestruck couples.

"You turn left at the tree of love, you'll know which one," Yuna had distractedly instructed the night before, a melting ice cream cone dripping down her fingers.

Your footsteps drown out songbirds and assemble their own tune. Each crunch of a stick signifying a beat to your journey.

The path eventually fizzles into a sad patch of grass with a podium pegged into it. Okinawa Path, it reads. Marked in 1985 by James Okinawa. Dedicated to his wife, Jiyeon Okinawa.

The horizon is curved like a bubble when you look out onto it. Leaves sway with the breeze in mass, assembling a synchronous dance. You can see the faint blue of the lake, its color lightened in the distance. If you squint a little, you can see the small ant-like figures running along its shore. Resting your hands on the metal casing of the plaque, you lean over. In the gaps of trees, a straight fall. You sigh, taking a step back.

Your stomach grumbles. It only takes a moment of peace for your chest to plummet. All that remains in your bag is an array of wrappers, food long consumed, and water. You glance at your watch. 12:19. If you left now at a pace twice which you came, you might reach the cabin at three. Maybe four, depending on how the animal's eyes draw you.

You nod, taking a final glance at the foliage and red hummingbirds plucking into bark, before heading back.

iv.

The hike, though momentarily ridding your thoughts of the boy whose laugh cast goosebumps down your spine, is rendered useless when you see him on your way back. Stood at the lake's mouth, he stares onto the water. His friends are vacant, you note, as your gaze shoots around to corners they might hide. You don't notice your feet have forgotten their trail until a cat sniffs your shoes.

His fur is soft when you dip your fingers to scratch behind his ears. Large green eyes stare up at you, leaning into your touch. You tilt your head, mumbling, "Where's your collar, little guy?"

He purrs as he slowly allows his eyes to close. You look around, catching eyes on the boy at the shore. A glimpse of a smile nuzzles against his lips, leaving you to wonder what possibly brews inside his head.

Behind you, the sound of gravel crunching beneath shoes. You swing around, searching for their eyes. A boy gapes at you, apparently frightened by your sudden movement. Then, his wide eyes minimize when he sees the cat.

Your fingers still linger by his ears, though they stop movement. He leans up, brushing his chin against them. Trying to revive their life.

"Soonie?" he finally says, eyebrows furrowing. A deep line of confusion betrays the skin between them.

The cat meows, trotting to the boy. He leaves you in his dust, as though you hold no purpose now that you've halted the affection.

He gently picks up the cat, cradling him in his arms like a baby.

"He's yours?" you ask.

His eyes jump to you and he hastily shakes his head. "No. He's my friend's. He threatened that he wouldn't come if we didn't let him bring at least one of his cats."

You chuckle at the absurdity. "Really?"

He nods. "I'm Chan, by the way. I think we're in the cabin next to you."

With the assertion of his name, realization drowns over you. "Oh! Right! I knew you looked familiar," you laugh. "I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you," he smiles, a dimple emblazoning his cheek. His gaze draws to the shore, where one of his friends stands.

The cat paws at his chin, begging for his attention. He ignores it. Instead, he shouts, "Minho!"

When the boy turns to him, eyebrows raised in curiosity and lips pursed, he continues. "Your cat got out of the cabin!"

Minho allows his head to hang, a smile forming. He jogs up to you two, graciously accepting his child from the older. "At least I know you'll know to escape if you get catnapped," he whispers. Absently, he scratches beneath the cat's chin, travelling him into a blaze of content. He offers you a look, almost confused as to why you're here.

"This is Y/N," Chan intervenes, "She helped stop your cat."

Minho nods, lips parting in an acknowledging 'o.' He smiles. "Thank you. He wanders sometimes."

You nod. "No problem. He's cute."

"Takes after his owner," Minho jokes.

Chan rolls his eyes, smacking his shoulder. He turns to you, "He's Minho, by the way."

You fight the instinctive 'I know' to float from your tongue. In its place you glance back to your cabin, faintly imagining Seungkwan lighting the living room on fire because Soonyoung meandered a little too long. You turn back to them, "It was nice meeting you two, but I have to run."

They see you off with a wave, watching as you speed-walk to your cabin. Minho's eyes burn a hole in your tank top. Though, it feels like nothing in comparison to the blaze searing your chest.

v.

Sleep fills the corners of your eyes like grains of sand. Incessant to remain as they are, tempting you into the peaceful bounds of sleep. The pillows didn't help. Pressing flush against your back, they mirror the puffs of clouds.

The shouts at the table, however, keeps you landlocked.

"Seungkwan!" Yuna screams after the crash of water splattering against the laminate.

"What?" he calls, his voice muffled by the bathroom door.

"Can you bring me a towel when you're done in there?"

"Why?" There's a dullness to his tone, and you picture him standing in the mirror and tuning his hair to its perfect shape.

"Because I may have spilled, like, all the water left from that jug," she returns quietly.

The door swings open, bouncing against the copper doorstop with a loud trill. You flinch, eyes shooting open. His head peeks around the corner at the puddle residing. His lips part to expel a distressed sigh and a hand flies up to scratch the back of his neck. A quick moment passes where he disappears into the bathroom and returns with two towels. Wordlessly, as though they are now in agreement, he hands her one before kneeling down and sopping up the mess.

You sit up on the couch, watching.

Seungkwan's gaze swivels back to you. He offers a small, pleading small—one you've become familiar with this past week. "Hey, Y/N." Like a younger sibling about to beg a pardon from the oldest.

"What do you need?"

"Can you run up to the Camper's Corner and get us another jug?"

Mingyu, the bearer of the keys to the minivan, has long disappeared for an impromptu fishing trip. The others, though wielding slumped gazes as they passed, followed him to the boat suddenly tied to the dock.

Yuna perks up, as though your thoughts are being broadcasted, "You can take my bike!"

Orange sky solemnly greets you when you step out from the porch. Discarded against the dark logs of the cabin is Yuna's white bike. Various stickers plaster the warm metal; some worn to nothing while others closely tug at life. When you pull at the handles and drag the hidden parts of the bike from an overgrown shrub, you notice that there is a small basket. You have to fight off the laugh that threatens you when you think of that five gallon container spilling over the small wire basket.

The leaves sing in a shaking chorus with the graces of the wind. A musk of burning firewood stings your nose. You glance to the sky at your right (where the actual tent campers stay) and see a gray plume of smoke. A lingering taste of s'mores catches your tongue. The only thing to allow the displacement of the idea is the small store whose blinding fluorescents slip out into the street.

Camper's Corner is a privately owned chain who strategically places their stores in campgrounds. Though, with the large, white metal sign bearing a small green tent, it screams out of touch. But, at least they had good prices. And a very wide variety of bug repellant (homemade!).

"Is this all?" the lady at the counter, mid 20s with a few piercings lining her ears, inquires.

You nod, straightening a bill before slipping it across the counter. She dispenses the change into the palm of your hand. That's all it takes to dismiss her to the distractions of her magazine.

The weight of five gallons was underestimated in your mind. It drags your shoulder uncomfortably to one side, and you know it'll only supplement the soreness you'll gain from the hike. You bring a hand to the metal bar at the door, though it swings open before you can meet it.

Surprised brown eyes cross yours. For a moment, the weight diminishes, and you feel nothing but the swirl of butterflies voyaging your stomach.

His weight shifts backwards as he steps out of your way, pulling you back to reality. You hurriedly step out of the store, mumbling your thanks.

You start for the bike propped against the bike rack before he calls out, "Hey, wait for me."

By the time your eyes have swiveled back to him, his spot is blank. Tarnished by the slow swing of the door coming shut.

The jug approaches the ground and you stretch, rotating your arm in apologetic circles. How did you let yourself agree to this? Why couldn't Seungkwan find you intimidating enough to not even dare ask?

The boy returns, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist. Your eyes mingle for a second before you lean to reobtain the jug. His hand darts past your hesitant fingers, claiming it effortlessly. He merely says, "You look like you're struggling."

You grab at the handles of the bike. "Something like that."

With only the sounds of footsteps and swooshing leaves, you watch the front wheel turn. Around and around. No true objective.

"Thank you, again," he finally says over the tunes of cicadas.

Too wide eyes find him, and he clarifies, "For finding my cat."

"Oh!" you exclaim. "No problem, really."

You glance down to the bag, whose contents peek back in splitting blinks through the hole at the top. "What's in the bag?" you inquire.

His voice is drunken with the subtle hint of a laugh as he answers, "Soju. For Mingyu."

"Did he guilt you into buying him some?"

His head tips to one side. "Kinda. I lost a game."

You feel nosy digging, though you cannot find the will to stop. "What game?"

"Twister."

The thought of this boy, limbs contorted into painful tugs, draws a giggle to the air. "How bad did you lose?" you find yourself asking.

He exchanges the jug into the hand with the bag, quickly drawing his sleeve up to reveal a large purple mark, green flooding the outer corners. His eyes linger on it before lifting to meet yours. "My entire weight went right there."

Lips parted in a mass of shock and amusement, you stare. Words fail you, though a bubbly laugh draws to replace it. His lips curl upward, hesitant as though he's not sure he should be living this moment.

The laughs dawdle to a small lingering smile. Only a few cabins litter the edge of the visible road ahead, though the feeling of parting already greets you. Tugging at your chest like a pestering child.

"Do you-" he starts.

"Why are your-" you inadvertently interrupt.

"Sorry, you go first," you both say in unison.

His shoulder brushes against yours as a laugh greets the trees and bunnies hidden behind shrubs. "Seriously, you go first," he manages, bringing a wrist to his eye.

"Why are your friends so loud?" you inquire. Most nights, even some mornings, you can hear their loud cackles. Sometimes, you listened in on their conversations—not because you wanted to, but because it was hard not to.

"Are we loud?" his bewildered gaze falls on you. You look up to meet him halfway, nodding. He shrugs. "I didn't realize."

The shining light from the indoor side of your cabin greets you. Like a parent greeting their child after a first date with a new, alien smile.

He gently hands you the jug. A protective hand reaches for your shoulder when you allow it to drag your shoulder a little. "You got it?"

You nod with a smile.

He turns for his cabin, and you call out, "What about your question?"

The treads of his shoes stop against the gravel. He glances over his shoulder. "I'll just ask you tomorrow."

Tomorrow, you think. He expects to see you tomorrow. The thought warms your cheeks.

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow."

His shoes scrape against the gravel again, dismissing the conversation.

You start up the porch, hand closing around the doorknob when his voice pierces the night sky. "Sleep well! I'll try to get the boys to be a little quieter."

vi.

Mingyu nearly falls from shock when he steps out onto the porch the next morning. His acquainted question slips from his tongue with an uncertain drawl, as though he is unsure what language he speaks.

"Sure. I'll tag along," you smile up at him.

He slowly nods, bringing a disguised hand to the back of his neck before he pinches the skin. Nope. Not a dream.

In thirty minutes he returns with a pink-faced Soonyoung, shirts discarded and three towels. Soonyoung hands you yours as he scans your body. He hadn't believed Mingyu, that newfound glimmer shining across your skin, but seeing it firsthand leaves him speechless.

The lake water is chilled, the sun precariously hidden behind a large white cloud. Mingyu shrieks at its touch, drawing back to the sand. Soonyoung stares at him over his shoulder, muttering, "Pussy."

Your focus reigns on the cabin beside yours. Its porch is vacant. Not even a single paw crosses it.

His promise had proven effective, for after eleven o'clock the cabin seemed muted. As if a young child had stumbled across a remote, carelessly slamming the buttons without being aware of their meaning. It brought a quick, heart-fluttering smile to your face before you pressed your cheek against the pillow and fell asleep.

Mingyu, irritated with your withdrawal from their conversation about snails, waves a hand before your eyes. When all he receives is a lost, empty stare with that absent smile, he follows your gaze. All the way up the small hill and to the cabin harboring eight boys.

He gasps, dragging a palm to your shoulder and shaking you. "Y/N," he repeats.

"What?" Soonyoung asks, trying to break into Mingyu's line of sight.

You fall back into reality, looking between them. You hum, raising your eyebrows curiously.

Mingyu stares at you with parted lips, hand grown limp on your shoulder. "Why are you staring at the enemy's house?"

"Enemy?" you ask.

"Enemy?" Soonyoung repeats.

Behind Mingyu, a boy scales down the small hill. His appearance brings a spark to your chest, alighting all your muscles. Burning your entire body.

The sun peeks out from a cloud.

Mingyu catches the sparkle in your eyes. The sudden smile tracing your lips. He glances over his shoulder.

"Minho!" Soonyoung calls, suspending a high hand to wave at him.

He waves back. His white shirt sparkles in the sunlight.

When he reaches you, he hands Mingyu the small plastic bag from the previous night. "Here. Don't think I forgot."

Pink blazes the boy's cheeks as he accepts the bag. He peeks inside.

You nudge his shoulder, "Is that why he was an enemy?"

"'Cos you thought he wouldn't hold up his end of the deal? Mingyu, you're unbelievable," Soonyoung finishes, shaking his head. He turns back to the lake, burying his feet beneath the water.

Shyly, Mingyu mumbles, "I'll be back."

He climbs the hill, disappearing into your cabin.

Minho expels a laugh. "He's funny."

He's still staring at the guarding cabin door. A smile peeks on his lips, leaving you to wonder again what he thinks of in that pretty head. Suddenly, his eyes flit to you. "Do you wanna go for a walk?"

You glance down at your bikini and cheap flip-flops. "I'm not really dressed for a-"

"You can borrow some of my clothes, if you don't wanna go into your cabin," he interrupts.

You wonder what he smells like up close. In the breeze, you had caught the brief scent of sandalwood and tea tree.

Behind you, Soonyoung digs his heel into the sand. "Go with him. Don't overthink it."

And so, taking the granted permission and running with it, you follow Minho up the hill. You lean towards his cabin, quickly mentioning, "I think Yeji and Seungkwan are still sleeping. I don't wanna disturb them."

He simply nods, guiding the way. Soonie waits at the door and tries to sneak out through the gap. Minho presses the heel of his foot against the cat's chest, pushing him back in. The cabin is quiet, save for the distant running of water. He guides you down the hall to his shared room. In the top bunk, a boy lays with his body facing the wall. Covers are drawn to his chin, shielding his identity further.

Minho offers a plain white tee similar to his—though his is emblazoned with the outline of a peace sign—and black joggers. Thankfully accustomed with a drawstring. Just as you had imagined, when you tugged the shirt over your head, it smelled woodsy. It hugs your skin, like the comfort of a flickering candle in a dimly lit room.

By the time you sneak back into the main area of the cabin, a boy leans against the kitchen counter, phone in hand. He glances up, blinking harshly when he spots you in Minho's clothes. "You have a girlfriend?" he asks, tipping his head.

Minho's only response is a scoff before he slips back into the great outdoors. You hold the other boy's gaze for a moment before following Minho quietly.

He guides you in the way of the Camper's Corner, though he takes a sharp left where you would normally keep straight. It's an unmarked path. He glances over his shoulder, as though to assert you're following.

"It's not too bad of a walk," he mentions, glancing down to your flip-flops.

After only a couple more feet, the fast splashing of water summons your ears. It pulls your gaze into its sourcing direction. A narrow creek stares back, water plummeting across sharp peaks of rocks. You gasp.

Minho turns to you, smiling when he spots the glimmer in your eyes. Similar to the one that the sun casts on the water.

He kneels close to the mud, plucking a small shell. He offers it to you. The tips of your fingers graze the smooth ridges. On the underside, little legs squirm.

"It's a hermit crab," he says.

"I know," you laugh, looking up to him.

He shrugs, "I had to tell Changbin what it was."

You stare at him, the small crab suddenly forgotten. He nods, as though to say 'I know, right?'

You gently return the hermit crab to its niche. Minho suddenly grabs your hand, pulling you back to the main road. His palm feels awkward in yours beneath the sun. Yet still, you dread the moment when it will shed itself away.

"Hey," you say. He stops, looking over his shoulder with pouty lips. "What did you want to ask me?"

The hint of a grin flashes across his lips, shining like the sun, as he shakes his head. "I already got the answer."

He turns back to the road, continuing to tug at your hand. The sound of his slides scraping against the gravel reminds you of last night.

"What was the question though?"

His grip tightens and he chuckles. "You're persistent."

"I'm just curious," you defend, inching to tug a little back on his hand.

He stops abruptly. You nearly crash into his back. He turns around to you, slipping his hand away from yours and placing it on your cheek.

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat. Or feel the warmth against your cheek.

His eyes are barren. For a moment, you're scared he might shun you away. Until his eyes crinkle and his teeth show, lips curled in a broad grin. "You should keep those clothes," he says, moving his hand slightly to catch a wandering strand of hair. He tucks it behind your ear.

"Why?" you manage to say through the pebble strangling your throat.

"You look cute in them."

Whatever breath you managed to withhold evacuates your lungs. You're not sure if it's the lack of oxygen, but you think he's leaning a little closer.

His hesitant breath tickles your lips and you meet him at the finish line. His other hand comes to cup your cheek as he kisses you. Your missing breath is found when his tongue trails across your bottom lip.

When he pulls away, he blinks as though he has returned from a blackout. Then, a chuckle slips past his lips. You stare at him, watching as the corners of his mouth upturn.

He grabs at your hand, pulling you up the road and back to the cabins. All the way, your tongue wettens your lips to revive his taste. You bite back smiles, grateful he cannot see you.

You feel like a schoolgirl again, calm and worryless.

vii.

He holds your hand as you step off the dock. The boat trembles beneath your leg and his grip tightens. "I got you," he reassures.

You sit opposite him as he tugs the oars back. The water winks up at you in fits of sparkling sunshine.

His invite had come like a surprise, preceded by the knock on the cabin. Yeji had answered, and before he even had time to ask for you, you were there. Peeking over her shoulder like an all too curious sibling. Normally, back at the apartment, life would play out like this. Someone would arrive at your doorstep, flowers in hand and ready to steal Yeji away on a date.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

So now, you sit in a boat, slightly seasick until Minho stops pushing the oars under the water. Only the quiver of the lake keeps you with a minuscule motion.

"I didn't really plan this far ahead," he says, looking back to the distant shore. On the dock, he notes, a boy stands. Then, running up from behind, he is pushed into the water. Impact splashing back at the one who remains standing.

He glances back to you, now having missed your words. "Sorry, what'd you say?"

"I said plans are overrated," you repeat.

A smile crosses his lips, somewhat feeling like a fond glimmer of nostalgia. You will chase after that smile, begging for the faint orange of this golden hour.

He leans forward abruptly, pressing his lips to yours. You smile into the kiss. The strings of his hoodie tickle your hand as you slowly bring your palm to his cheek.

The kiss brings that golden hour into clarity with pulsing fits of orange like a heartbeat.

When he pulls away, bottom lip slightly swollen, he pulls his sleeves over his hands as he glances down to the water. He will not admit what is on his mind, though the peek of his tongue slipping over his lips tells you all you need to know.

"What's your favorite color?" you inquire casually, drawing his eyes back to you.

"Mint," he quickly answers.

You learn that he cannot swim, despite his urgency to drag you out onto the lake, and that he's an only child. He just graduated college with a degree in Computer Science, though he doesn't know what he wants to do yet. Though, he makes it clear that he will never work retail. He has two other cats who were left back home because his friends had whined enough about bringing Soonie.

You find yourself smiling as he tells you stories from his former years. How he nearly flunked his Statistics exam because he accidentally went to the wrong class for half the semester (he couldn't explain how he didn't realize because your laughs suffocated his thoughts). How his friends rely on him for certain things. How he simply lives to live.

His lips find yours again after he tells you that he has a talent for catching people off guard. You flinch a little, though laugh.

As he pulls away, his smile reaches his eyes and you catch the glimmer of comfort sprouting in your chest.

His fingertips find the oars again when a cloud threatens the sun. It dims the lake, stealing the sparkle from the water.

A sigh slips past your lips as you watch the clouds turn. Vacation ends in four days, ready to drag you back to the needy college life. You wonder if Minho will keep in touch. Certainly, you remind yourself, he will. After all, you both live in the same city, so seeing each other shouldn't be a problem.

"What're you thinking about?" Minho asks as he's reaching for the rope to secure the boat to its dock.

His cologne lingers close as he leans over you. A hug-like comfort. You shake your head when he glances down at you. "Nothing."

viii.

A large pizza sits in the center of the table, steam rising from the center. Seungkwan leans over and grabs another piece.

"Gosh, we should've ordered another one," Seokmin sighs, glancing at the two empty boxes at the counter.

Yeji shakes her head, "Maybe if you guys didn't eat so much."

You smile, leaning back in your chair to watch this unfold. Seungkwan defensively waves his hand as he bites. Soonyoung chugs water to drown his words.

Mingyu, though, stares at you. His arms are crossed against his wide chest. He leans

forward, resting them on the table. The argument fizzles, leaving the elephant in the room to be addressed.

"Mingyu, why are you staring at me like that?" you laugh.

"Why are you so lighthearted? What did Minho do to you? Did he inject you with something?"

You blink, waiting for his questions to process. "I'm just in a good mood, I guess."

"Who's Minho?" Yuna returns from the bathroom, reclaiming her seat beside Yeji.

"One of the neighbor guys. He's really cool, actually," Soonyoung informs.

Mingyu shoots him a glare, though before he can speak, Seokmin has begun, "Yeah, you have been kinda weird today, Y/N."

You shrug, shyly looking down at your sweatpants that weren't technically yours. Minho had playfully pushed you into the cabin when you had offered to return them after your lake date. His smile had blazed brighter than the sun. Warmer than the sun. You smile at the close memory.

"See?" Mingyu points accusingly.

"I think you're overreacting," Soonyoung comments, grabbing the abandoned crust from Seungkwan's plate.

Yeji nods, taking a sip from her water before adding, "Just let her have her last summer love."

Mingyu huffs, leaning back into his chair. "I don't like him."

"Too bad," Seungkwan nudges him with a teasing smile.

Nighttime falls after a tense couple rounds of Mafia. Each time, Mingyu would insist voting you off, citing that you were suspicious and simply had to be the Mafia. Even when you were the nurse. Or the cop. You hadn't gotten the mafia card at all.

Your sheets are cold when you climb into them. And though Mr. Sandman has already dragged your eyes to a laze, you cannot find dreamland. Instead, you're left to listen to the night. Distant shouts from the neighboring cabin. You smile, wondering what Minho is doing.

A huff slips from your lips and an open palm rushes to your forehead. How have you allowed yourself to fall this deep? Maybe Mingyu's right. Maybe you should take a step back. Yet still, the imprint of his lips against yours haunts you with the pull at your heart.

You roll over, tugging your covers to your chin. Like the boy in Minho's room.

A hollow noise echoes throughout your ears. It travels upward, like your window being pulled. You flinch, though fight it off. It's nothing, you tell yourself. Just the wind. Or a deer. Or maybe it's a little rabbit.

But then, your heart stops beating when the rustic-style comforter pulls away from you.

Instinctively, you shoot up, swinging your arms. One connects with the heavy meat of a human. It heaves, doubling over in pain.

You tremble, heart shattering against your ribcage. Though, you gain enough strength to reach for the lamp, pulling down on the string.

A boy is balled up on the floor, clutching at his ribs. He glances up at you, squinting beneath the sudden light.

"Minho? What are you doing here?" you whisper. You realize you're in his shirt. And his sweatpants. They're comfy, okay?

He pulls himself up to sit at the foot of your bed, still holding his side. "You have got a strong arm," he gasps for air.

"What are you doing here?" you repeat. At the loud, though distant, chant of someone's name, you add, "Shouldn't you be with your friends?"

He shakes his head. The tips of his fingers pull at the hem of his shirt to reveal his chest. A slim red mark has already formed. He drops the cloth, glancing back to you, "I wanted to see you. You're more fun than they are."

You fight a smile. "You barely know me."

He shrugs. "So?"

You look down at your lap sheepishly. "I'm sorry for hitting you so hard."

"Don't be," he reaches for your hand, pressing your fingers against his momentarily and intertwining them. "I probably should've had a better gameplan."

You can't exactly disagree with that.

"Do you mind if I stay here tonight?" he asks, glancing back out into the open window.

"No, but can you not go home or something?"

He turns back to you, lips slightly pursed. "I'm getting tired of being with them. They're kinda draining."

You know the feeling, thinking of Seungkwan and Soonyoung's full-fleshed arguments that seem to have a daily timer of 7 P.M.

And so he kicks his shoes off and curls up next to you before you turn off the light. His arm curls around you as he sighs. His breath tickles your skin, flaring small goosebumps.

You rest your ear against his chest, hearing out for the small thumps of his heart. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

"You never told me the question," you say.

"It's not important anymore," he replies, pulling you a little closer.

Crickets swell in the silence that follows. His chest is warm, a comforting contrast to the earlier sheets. Yet still, you feel yourself asking, "Don't you think we're going too fast?"

And he simply responds, "You can never feel like you're moving too fast if you're constantly running out of time."

You hum. A response curls at your tongue, though your lips fail to move.

When you return to consciousness, the warm pillow you had rested upon is gone. The only evidence he was ever even there is the window, still open, and the wrinkles in the sheets.

ix.

He is not at the lake. He is not at the hidden creek. Maybe he's on a hike, you think. But as you pass his cabin and peek inside, your stomach drops.

The place is pristine, as though eight young men had never even stepped foot inside. You take a peek inside, scanning through all of the rooms. Nothing. Bare beds and bare halls.

His shirt itches against your skin. Not a single goodbye. Pricks of something volatile poke your skin as you realize you have nothing to contact him by. No phone number. No cringy Snapchat username he made when he was thirteen. Nothing.

You drag your feet back to your cabin, passing Seungkwan huddled over a bowl of oatmeal. His greeting distantly floats through your ears, though you fail to process it.

When you fall into your bed, sheets still indented by his figure, a hot tear scales your face. His scent is all around you, like a taunting lullaby. You jolt up, tearing the shirt off of you and throwing it as hard as you can. It caves against the wall, slipping down silently.

You pull over a different, non-Minho shirt and rest back against the mattress. Though still, he remains.

A sob clogs your throat. You want to punch a pillow. Or a wall. Or him. No, you wouldn't punch him. You cannot even find it in you to direct your anger at him. Instead, you decide, you must have done something wrong. Maybe you whispered something in your sleep that infuriated him. Maybe-

A soft knock at your door.

"I'm sorry," you sob, burying your face in the pillow as you clutch the sheets.

Beside you, the bed dips beneath someone's weight. A hand falls against your back, its fingertips tapping lightly.

You expect it to be Yeji. Or Yuna. But instead, when you look, it's Mingyu. His face is blank, not even a trace of an "I told you so" glazing it. Instead, his eyes are covered with a film of pity.

"Did you know?" you manage through the tears.

Slowly, he nods. "I'm sorry."

You shake your head. "It's not your fault."

He pulls you into a hug, and you're glad that his scent does not resemble Minho's. Mingyu smells only like cotton. Freshly washed cotton.

"He's a dick, not telling you he was leaving," he says, drawing a hand up to your head.

Seungkwan's voice drenches the room with bitterness. "Who the fuck hurt you? I will kill-"

Mingyu looks back at the boy standing in the doorway. He shakes his head, beckoning the boy to leave. And he does.

You're grateful for Mingyu.

x.

Only three days remain in your vacation, yet each second is more brutal than the last. Dried tears glue strands of hair to your cheeks. At night, Mingyu comes in and lays with you, rubbing small circles into your back as he tries to make you laugh. Yeji stands in the doorway, confused arms crossed against her chest.

The day before you leave, Yeji stops at your bedside and whispers. "We can leave today."

You look up to her, shaking your head slightly. That's all the energy you have to do. Your voice is a croaking mess when you bring yourself to say, "Don't let me ruin your fun, please."

The final day, as set aside on the drive here, is a day of fun. Hiking and swimming and laughter. Though you remain in bed, sheets pulled to your chin as your fingertip rubs small laps along your lips.

When Seokmin sneaks into your room at dinnertime, a small slice of pizza resting on a paper plate, he says, "You deserve better than him."

You nod. But you're not sure you believe him.

You find yourself wondering what he did in the car ride home. What he's doing now. If his cats are happy to all be together again. You wish that you could have seen Soonie's little smile again. Or even seen Minho's fatherly intuitions with him for even an extra split second.

A fingertip rests on your bottom lip. The car is silent, save the low hum of the radio. Disguised by his sunglasses, it appears that Mingyu's eyes are glued to the road at all times. Though he steals a parental glance in the rearview every few seconds, as if to check you haven't withered away.

Even when Seungkwan coughs, Soonyoung bites his tongue. They do not argue the whole way.

When Mingyu arrives outside your apartment complex, you gather your things and get out of the minivan. Its familiar blue paint stings your eyes with tears. You look back into the car before saying with a forced smile, "Thank you, guys."

xi.

Summer dissipates with green fading to amber. You look at the golden leaves scattering the ground of the campus. Minho's smile flashes in front of your eyes, and you shake it away. A parasite.

You jog to class, sparingly glancing at your watch to count each minute you're late. At five past eight you get to the lecture hall. A quiet apology slips past your lips until you climb the stairs to the back.

For a history class, the seats are rather full. You sit at the end of the second to last row, beside a tanned boy with light brown hair and round glasses. His eyes stick on you a little too long, burning your skin.

Professor Nam discusses the syllabus rather quickly, his words failing to succumb to first-day stutters. His sudden clap makes you flinch, and his voice booms all the way back to you. "That's it. Scan the first chapter to familiarize yourself with the material. You're free to go."

You gather your things and are ready to descend the stairs when the boy beside you calls, "Wait!"

You glance back at him and a flash of familiarity blankets him. His words return to you before you can exactly place him. You have a girlfriend?

"Are you Y/N?" he asks.

Pain shoots through your chest and you take a wary step backwards.

He continues, quickly apologizing, "Sorry to catch you off guard like this. I'm Seungmin."

He proffers his hand. You take it. "Nice to meet you," you manage.

"You too," he smiles. Though, to you, all he says is 'You're the girl he ditched?'

You cannot find the words to form a question, though he beats you to it. He seems to do that, you note.

"What happened with you and Minho?"

Then, when he catches the sparkle of tears glazing your eyes he frantically adds, "If you're comfortable with telling me."

You look down at your shoes, remembering the days of sunshine that quickly turned to cloudy messes. "I don't know, really."

"He was a mess after we left, but he wouldn't tell us anything that happened," Seungmin rambles.

Your eyes shoot back to him. A hoarse laugh grabs your words, "He was a mess?"

Confused, he hesitantly nods.

"He didn't tell me you guys were leaving," you announce, the words stinging you all over again. "And he never left me anything to contact him with. I thought I did something wrong. I probably did."

You remember the white shirt stuffed into your closet, a pair of sweatpants crumbled beneath it. His scent is faintly attached to the fibers. Though, maybe, it's just your imagination.

Seungmin's eyes soften. "I'm sorry. You probably didn't do anything. He wouldn't react the way he did if you had. He's just stupid."

You dismiss yourself, aiding the excuse that you're meeting with a friend for coffee and he understands. Seungmin watches as you leave the lecture hall, a soft sigh tickling his lips.

When you get back to the apartment (not having another class until noon) you cry. Hot tears that irritate your skin. You pull out the tee shirt and hug it close. And the words, again, fall from your lips like a mantra. "I'm sorry."

xii.

Seungmin asks you to coffee a week later, a hint of something unfamiliar in his eye. You agree, though only under the pretense that he pays.

The coffee shop by the campus is riddled with already tired students and rushed projects. Seungmin sits by the window. An iced americano is cupped in his hand and he absentmindedly sips it, eyes over at a set of baristas scrambling to fulfill orders. His gaze breaks, falling onto you and he waves.

"Did I keep you waiting long?" you ask as you pull yourself onto the stool.

He shakes his head, gently setting the sweating coffee on a napkin. "No, I just got here."

He glances back to an aproned barista, who anxiously stares back. His eyes are apprehensive, tinged with a glimmer of something fierce. Seungmin nudges your hand, pointing at the boy.

You feel your heart stop beating. You might be leaning forward and passing out. You might be dying. But one thing's for sure, the boy who is currently holding your eyes makes you blister with heat and blur at the eyes. He stares with a freezing gaze that shoots goosebumps all along your skin.

And then he offers a hint of a smile that warms your body like a blanket. He glances to a coworker, inaudibly says something, and removes his apron. He tosses it into a small blue basket before rushing over. Seungmin gives up his seat.

Minho smacks the back of his head. "Thanks for drinking all of my americano."

"Shouldn't have left it there," Seungmin shrugs before starting towards the exit.

At the door, he turns back and smiles, "Have a good talk!"

You dumbfoundedly watch as Minho lifts himself to the stool. He rests interlocked hands on the table, creating a cage around his half-empty americano. "I'm sorry," he says.

"For what?" you look at him like a lost puppy. His heart softens and the guilt overrides him.

"Leaving," he glances outside, down the street where Seungmin crosses.

You somehow manage to keep looking at him. "Was it something I did?"

"No," he instantly turns back to you. "It was me."

"That's what everyone says," you fight a hurt chuckle. "You can tell me, really. It won't hurt."

And with a forced reassuring smile, you look deep into his eyes.

He shakes his head. "No really, it was me. I was confused and terrible at facing what I was feeling. I didn't want to admit that constantly wanting to kiss someone was more than friendly."

"I take it you still are," you mention. "Considering Seungmin didn't even know."

His head twitches in a nod. "Something like that."

A silence lies over you, though it's unlike the one you held when you walked back from the Camper's Corner. This one seems menacing. As though it has the power to destroy everything.

He suddenly grabs your hand and plays with your fingertips. He does not know the number of times you have pressed them to your lips—sixty-two. He does not know the days you spent staring at your ceiling, eyes burning from spilling insufficient tears. He does not know that you halted communication with everyone, save Yeji, from the trip because they reminded you too much of him. Yet still, his touch cascades your body with heat, as though none of that happened.

"You really don't have to accept this, but I would like to make it up to you."

Your heart catches in your throat and it echoes its thumps throughout your entire body. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Hesitantly, he nods. "I think so."

Your smile burns a whole through his chest. You ask innocently, eyebrows raised with joy, "Can I come see your cats?"

He laughs. "You'd have to meet my mom 'cos they live with her. My apartment complex doesn't allow pets."

"Second date, then."

"You already think you wanna go on a second date with me?" Minho grins, leaning a little closer.

You blush, shaking your head.

You stare into his eyes and see a tiny reflection of yourself. Behind that, you see remorse. Lost time. He's going to make up for it. That's a promise, even if it's not verbal.

xiii.

His laugh bubbles throughout the small room like the sizzle of soda. He pulls the cat close to him, cradling him like a baby. You watch as the cat paws at his chin.

He looks up at you, "I think he likes me."

You smile as he glances back to the cat. He nestles his fingers beneath the cat's chin and gently scratches.

Upon the idea of coming to a cat cafe, he was hesitant. "They might smell Soonie or something," he had pouted.

"It'll be fine," you had promised, taking his hand. They were warm, you recall, like those last days of summer.

And now here you sit, perched atop a chair while Minho rolls around with the cats. All swarming him like he carries a cat-summoning device. His smile is radiant against the sea of calico and tabby.

A flutter ravages in your chest when his eyes find yours. "Why are you staring at me like that?" he laughs.

"Like what?"

"You just look," he thinks. "I can't explain it."

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "Cat got your tongue?"

He delivers a wry laugh, returning his attention to the tabby who paws at his chin.

You watch as he fights the crowd to sit up. One immediately climbs upon his shoulder, reaching up to dig its paws in his hair. He gently pulls it off of him, resting it on the plush rug. He returns to his spot aside from you, bringing the straw of his iced americano to his lips.

"I feel bad," he finally says, curiously glancing down to the tugging sensation against the cuff of his sweatpants.

"Why?" you ask, resting your forearms on the table.

He looks back to you. "Because this is our first real date and we're in a place aimed for my interest. I'm supposed to be the one making things up to you, not the other way around."

You fight a laugh. "You know I like cats too, you know?"

"Yeah, but," he hesitates. "they're not really paying attention to you."

You shrug. "That's fine. Watching you interact with them is enough."

He smirks, "So you're saying you like watching me?"

"Interact with cats, yes," you confirm.

A hand grabs yours as he leans across the table to kiss you. His lips taste just like you remember—those sixty-two times did not go to waste. They're soft and taste vaguely of his coffee addiction. Back in summer, they had tasted like faint watermelon. Sometimes strawberries.

Abruptly, he pulls away. "Wait, I didn't ask if I could kiss you, I'm so sorry."

"You didn't ask me the first time you kissed me."

He squints, "Really?"

You nod, a shadow of a laugh tumbling over your lips.

He glances out the window, a look of reliving riddling his features. Eyebrows knitted together. Lips fallen agape. Finally, he looks back to you. "I don't remember not asking."

"Do you remember asking?" you tease, biting your straw between smiling teeth.

"Touche. But that's under different circumstances than right now. I'm supposed to be regaining your trust, not spontaneously kissing you."

You cock your head at him. "In summer, we barely knew each other and you were sneaking into my cabin to sleep in the same bed as me. How is that much different from randomly kissing me?"

He shyly brings his straw to his lips again, taking a long sip that extends the silence. "Summer was different," he finally says.

"Elaborate on that for me, please."

He sighs, flecks of red darting across his cheeks. He looks like he's about to give a presentation for a class he's failing. "Summer Minho," he finally begins, "was insanely stupid."

And then, his words fall. Another silence, save a couple cats clawing at a scratching post.

"And?" you urge him to continue.

He pouts. "I wasted so much time. We could've done this whole dating thing months ago, but because I wanted to run away from those scary feelings, we're here."

Then, in your stunned silence, he adds, "I wish I could go back and force myself to stick around. Or at least leave you a note. I thought about doing that, you know."

You sigh. "You can't change the past."

He lamentably nods, looking down at a sleeping cat to disguise the film blurring his vision.

"So let's make up for lost time," you declare, standing up.

He looks at you confusedly. "What?" he croaks.

"Minho," you offer your hand. Hesitantly he takes it, standing too. You continue, "I don't think I was ever really mad at you. I focused all of the blame on myself. So please, kiss me whenever. Show up at my doorstep at three in the morning because one of the boys got on your nerves. I don't care. I just want to be with you."

A small smile twitches as a lonesome tear slips down his cheek. He pulls you into his chest. The vibration of his laugh shakes against your ear as he whispers, "You're gonna regret saying that part about me showing up at your doorstep."

You laugh and shake your head, though deep down you know he's probably right.

xiv.

Lee Minho is a piece of work. Having the nerve to show up at your apartment while the world is shaking with thunder. His hair is soaking wet, as are his clothes. Though, kept dry, is the brown bag of Chinese food he shoved beneath his hoodie.

He laughs through shivers when you open the door, alternatively drenched with the desire for sleep.

"Did I wake you?" he asks, teeth chattering.

Through squinted eyes, you slowly nod, stepping out of the way to let him in. So tired, you note, that you didn't even bring him a towel before he enters the apartment. Small droplets of water quiver at his movement, pooling beside your doormat.

"Do you still have those clothes I lent you?" he shouts when you retreat back to your room.

A response is unnecessary, for you're already bringing them to him. White tee and black sweatpants, neatly folded. His cologne officially disappeared in the last wash, subtly replaced with your laundry detergent and Yeji's rose perfume.

He steps into your bathroom, quickly asking where your towels are. You point to the small bamboo cabinet Yeji insisted on buying the week before.

You glance at the green digits atop the stove. 12:56 A.M. A wry laugh clogs your throat as you suddenly remember what you had told him two weeks ago on your first date. Though, this begs the question: do you regret telling him that? No, actually. Because now, you will finally be able to fall asleep in his arms again. Plus, he brought you food for unintentional compensation of waking you. That's commendable.

He returns from the bathroom, his new clothes lay over dry skin. Yet, his hair is still damp and sticking every which way. He vehemently shakes his head like a wet dog, sending a few droplets to brush your skin.

He tugs on the top of his shirt, bringing it across his forehead to wipe at straying rain.

Then, he stands still. A simper creeps across his face and he approaches you, entrapping you in his arms. Gently, he sways you, mimicking the boat on the lake. "Sorry for showing up unexpectedly. Jisung kicked me out."

You fight his grip to look up at him. "Why?"

"I may have joked about kidnapping the cats and bringing them to our apartment."

"Was it really a joke?" you inquire.

He laughs. "No."

You press your ear against his collarbone, silently sighing. A content smile crosses your lips as you close your eyes.

xv.

A distant, long forgotten episode of Haikyuu! hums on the TV. Minho's forehead is pressed against your shoulder and his light snores usurp the quiet argument between Hinata and Kageyama. Minho's arms have gone limp around your waist, loosened by the depths of slumber.

You turn in his arms and stare at the slope of his nose. The way his lips are barely parted. The way his eyelashes tickle against his cheeks. His hair has long since dried, though frizz defies its normal shape. You smile before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

In your younger years you had imagined that your final year of college would be tinged with the weight of growing old. Now, every time you're with Minho—in his arms or merely in his presence—you're relieved of all of the nonsense adulthood brings. No stress. Just simply living. It's like a constant adventure with him.

His eyes peek through heavy lids and he tips his head back a little, tapping the back of the couch. In a drowsy voice, he mutters, "Stop watching me sleep, weirdo."

You giggle. "You were snoring."

He shuts his eyes again, humming as he returns his head to the pillow. Barely audible, he whispers, "I love you."

A loud thump echoes in your ears before a smile creeps up to your lips. "I love you too."

In the morning, he will deny this ever happening. Yet still, you will smile and go along with it. "Maybe I was imagining it," you will say with a shrug before disappearing to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. In your wake, he will whisper those three words again, and you will pretend you hadn't heard. Though a smile will fall on your lips when you return to him, two mugs cozied in your hands.

Now, you know that it's nearing four in the morning, and though your tiredness has long fled, you rest your forehead against his and shut your eyes. Lee Minho loves you, even if he denies saying it in his slumber-drunk world. He wants you to stay. And in return, he will stick by your side. Even when you forget Dori's birthday.

#bandaigaeru #skz #stray kids #skz scenario #skz scenarios #skz imagine #stray kids minho #stray kids lee know #lee know #lee know x reader #minho x reader #minho imagine #lee know imagine #lee know scenario #stray kids au #skz au #lee know au #lee minho

[thequalityproblem]

Some tips & hints for engaging your nursing staff

Here are some important tips and hints to keep in mind the next time you are meeting with patient care staff. 

Remember, they are the life blood that fuels the hospital, so getting them interested and engaged in your message is crucial to seeing the results you are looking for. 

No pressure, though. 

Life. Blood.

1. Competition: I am not referring to the unit vs. unit competitions that ultimately end in a pizza party for one shift. I’m talking about that personal competition between yourself and your ability to do better.

Nurses are oddly competitive. I mean, its not like they’re sitting there timing how long it takes nurse Becky to pass her mid-shift meds and then trying to beat that time by a few minutes. Nurses are weirdly competitive in the way that, if you listed every nurse on the unit in order of med-scanning accuracy, and my name was at the bottom, I would take that as a personal loss and up my game.

Think I’m wrong? Name one of your nursing friends who doesn’t know the EXACT number of questions they completed on their NCLEX exam before it turned off. Its their badge of honor. Personal glory.

2. Food: If you are going to have a presentation, PowerPoint or otherwise, that everyone has to sit and watch you MUST provide them with food. Food will almost always get your staff where you need them to go. BUT, and this is a very important BUT, it can’t be food just for the sake of food. 

* The correct way to provide staff with food: 

ADMIN: “Hey folks, I know there have been a lot of questions about the Coronavirus, so we put together a presentation, you’ll be able to ask questions at the end, and also lunch will be provided.”

STAFF: “Huzzah! What a great day to learn about an emerging pandemic!” 

* How NOT to provide staff with food:

ADMIN: “Hey folks, we need you to take a mandatory staff survey so us executives have decided to take an hour out of our busy day to scoop half-melted ice cream for you. Come down to the cafeteria from 12pm - 1pm, when my schedule allows me to sling this sloppy sprinkled mess into a cup for you, remember to give the hospital 5 stars on your survey!”

STAFF: “This feels like bribery. Sugary bribery. I see right through this uncharacteristic display of nurse affection. However, I’m going to eat this ice cream. Because I love ice cream, even though I do not care about this stupid survey.”

3. Give them the story: As administrators, we become very good at using all the right words to tell the story in such a way that keeps it vague but also conveys the sense of urgency. This is a great skill when you’re presenting to the hospital board or to an outside facility. But nurses want the gory details. They want to know exactly what went down, how it happened and all the queasiness in between.

Example: We had a very unfortunate patient safety event that occurred at a hospital I used to work for. During a meeting with our Professional Nurses Council, I broke down and just laid out all the details. I couldn’t help myself. The story was so sad and I’d been coming to this meeting for almost a year. I knew these nurses and knew that they had huge hearts. They needed to know exactly what happened and how we (the hospital) failed to protect the patient. By the end of the meeting, a few of us were crying and sharing other stories of tragedy that have happened to us or family members, but we also came up with some amazing ways to prevent the event from occurring again. My point is that by being honest and transparent and really opening up with staff about the gaps we identified in the patient’s care, they became emotionally involved and instead of just “wanting to do better,” they demanded it.

4. Professional Growth: Offer and encourage certifications, CEUs and extra courses - it will mold your staff into well-rounded professionals (which benefits the hospital) and will provide them with the confidence and skills that will help them grow in their career.

PLUS

Many healthcare professionals have a licensing requirement to obtain continuing education credits. 

Nurses and physicians love to learn, and also love to not come in on their days off. When the hospital takes the time to work those credits into the material they provide, it is way more likely to get staff to sit through a presentation about patient safety than some dumb ice cream social (sorry, I really, really hate ice cream socials).

5. Offer up committee positions to unit staff: Allow ANY staff member to participate in committees that they WANT to be on. 

Instead of offering nursing governance or nursing-specific committees, ask if anyone would be interested in attending safety event review meetings or patient experience, or things that usually just take up all the time of the managers and directors. This could free up some people that you need on the unit (ahem, managers) and give the unit staff a chance to voice their concerns and better understand the processes that shape the hospital administration. 

Plus, wouldn’t you rather have someone attend a meeting who is choosing to be there instead of someone who is required and is sick and tired of going to meetings that they don’t care about? Take some of the burden off the managers. Show staff that you trust them and their experience to help run the hospital. 

6. ASK THEM WHAT THEY WANT! 

You have decided that the current draw sheets you are using are too expensive. So.... you let a group of staff members try them out and cast some votes! (Also, add some diversity to the trial group - don’t just use nursing; utilize your housekeeping staff, nurse aids, the people who will actually use the product) If they hate all the choices you give them, ask them their opinions on other ways to reduce cost - for example, are we stocking some stupid shit that no one ever uses? Get rid of it and keep the good draw sheets!

And then clearly COMMUNICATE the change to all the staff:

“Attention men and women who work so hard and we love you so much (seriously, we need you to give us 5 starts on that survey)... we asked 130 draw-sheet users to try out a new product and the results are in! The majority of our trial group picked this product so we are switching - BUT please let us know if they aren’t working out and we will revisit the draw sheet decision!”

 ...or we will distract you with an ice cream party

#tips #hosptial #Hospital Quality #hospital administration #hospital communication #hospital leadership #nurse #nurse manager #nurse administrator #hints #helpful hints #engagement #staff engagement #hospital engagement

[gyeomork]

Connections

(jackson wang x reader) 

genre: fluff, light smut, college au

warnings: sexual content, mild cursing

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i don’t capitalize my letters in this so if that bothers you, i’m sorry :( also italicized words mean they’re speaking english. also i lol don’t know what im talking about with all that “reading people” shit i just took a wyld guess but i hope you enjoy anyway ^3^

i enter my first class of the year, psychology 3. i take a seat, not really paying attention to who i sat next to. i take my laptop out of my backpack, place it on the table, flip it open and get ready to take notes. it was a new school year and i was not about to slack anymore. sophomore year was a complete shit show and i could not afford that this year, literally. i was skipping class like it was an olympic sport but guess what? tuition still had to be paid. i open up google docs and title the new document ‘19/8/19 notes, assignments & hw ’. the professor begins to speak and my full attention is now on her.

an hour passes and the class was wrapping up. “ok class the homework is for you all to make a powerpoint presentation on the person sitting next to you. you must analyze them as a person, describe their character traits and so on and so forth. think of it as an ice breaker activity and a way to make a new friend. more instructions will be posted online. i count 24 of you so i expect 24 emails on friday 23/8/19. presentations will be the following monday, if there are any questions feel free to email me. class dismissed.” i close my laptop and reach for my bag when i hear a deep familiar voice next to me say “hey! how’s it going?” i look to my right and see jackson, jackson wang. god not again. this man was handsome to say the very very least and a heart throb. i should know because i had him in psych 2 last year. we would almost always end up having to do a project together and almost always turn it in 2 minutes before it was due. it’s not like we were the best of friends and every time we met up we didn’t do work, it was just that we never really did meet up. every time he would text and ask i would be too scared to be in the same place as him because of how intimidated he made me feel. when we did meet up it was the night before so i absolutely had to go, for the sake of his grade. we wouldn’t talk much but when we did he was, for the most part, really nice. “hi.. jackson. it’s going.. good” i say quietly. “oh, that’s good. well if you’re free right now we could go get coffee to jumpstart this little project” god he had the cutest smile on his face. “oh yeah sure just let me get packed up” i said trying to avoid his gaze like the black plague.

after to fumbling with my belongings under the immense pressure his eyes were putting me under, we were finally able to leave. on the walk to the cafe, jackson sparks up conversation. “so, y/n, last year we never really talked much and i was a little let down because you actually seemed really cool. so i’m glad i get to do this project with you. i wanna get to know you” he looks over to me and grins widely. i return a small smile back. “where are you from?” he asked sounding genuinely curious. “the states” i mentally curse at myself for giving such a short, dry answer but he hums anyway. “i’m from china but i came here for a change, you know” “yup” i curse at myself again. a small silence passes, extra emphasis on small. “since you’re from the states do you-“ “speak english? yes” we both chuckle and god he was adorable. “oh cool so we could have our own semi-secret language” i give him a ‘you’re ridiculous’ look and we chuckle again. “so did you teach yourself english or did you go to an international school?” finally! i’m making semi-decent conversation. “international but i did do some studying on my own. so what about you? how did you learn hangul?” “ i loved watching and still do love watching dramas so one day i just got really annoyed with having to read the subtitles and just started teaching myself. i never really expected myself to get proficient at it, it just happened. then i thought i should put some use to it more than just dramas so i came here” wow the way i just rambled on just then. “ so how do you like it here?” he continues with the questions. “at first it was kind of hard to get used to because i went from using english every day and using hangul sometimes to using hangul every day and english sometimes” jackson nods in understanding. “ and then there are slang words that you need to learn and sayings and really understand the culture” he adds on. “ yes! exactly” regret of being so intimidated of him last year now fills me. he’s so easy to talk to. ugh am i stupid?

we reach the cafe and he opens the door for me “let me get that for you” “kam-sa-hap-nee-da!” i said in the most american accent i could do and he lets out an actual laugh that ascends me to the heavens. we both join the medium sized line. “you can just tell me what you want so you can go have a seat and i’ll bring it to you” this man is an angel. “iced americano, venti sized please and thank you” i say with a close-mouthed smile. “coming right up” he reciprocates the same smile. i make my way to a small booth in the corner by the window. i take out a small notepad and jot down things i’ve noticed about jackson. eventually, i get lost in thinking about how sweet he is and how easy he is to talk to and how his laugh is opposite of his deep voice and how his smile makes him look like a baby and then how he turns all hot again and oh my god i have a crush on jackson. like a cue, jackson comes and sets his and my coffee down and takes a seat across from me “thank you so much” “no problem” we both take a sip in unison. “analyzing me already?” he asks grabbing my notepad. all i had written was ‘really good energy’. really y/n? what the hell is that supposed to mean? he makes a ‘not bad’ face and sets my notepad back in front of me. i keep sipping and look out the window. “ok, ok” i could see him trying to hold in a snicker in the corner of my eye. i whip my neck to look and him and ask swiftly “what? why ‘ok ok’? what?”. “hm? nothing” he replies, still trying to hold in that laugh. “wah~ making fun of me already. at least i have something written down” he raises his eyebrows at me. “i have plenty of stuff written down in my head” “oh really?” i say in disbelief. “yes!” “ok. then prove it” i sit back and cross my arms. “just in the last 10 minutes, the things i’ve noticed ok. ready?” i just nod. “shy; when you laughed or smiled you didn’t show teeth. closed off; you chose the booth furthest away from other people. passive; you did nothing when i snatched your notepad. trusting; you trusted me with your drink and that i didn’t do anything to it. physical traits; well put together, pretty-“ i felt my face heat up and i had to stop him. “alright, alright you proved your point.” i waved him off and he laughs. “you asked for it” he says, laughter still in his voice. “i asked for you to prove yourself not show off” i say fake sulkily and extra pouty. he laughs even louder and makes a few heads turn. “ok jackson! people are looking.” i whisper shout and smile at him fully this time. “oh! you’re smiling” he points “you’re not shy around me anymore!” “ok you have to teach me how to read people like that” i rest my hand on my chin and my elbow on the table. “well, for starters, we could go back to the ‘getting to know you’ questions. so, when’s your birthday?”

after hours of talking, we had to leave simply because the cafe was closing. jackson looks at his watch and widens his eyes. “it’s 22:58 (10:58 pm). oh my god. do you have class tomorrow? i’m so sorry for keeping you out so late, i’ll walk you home. where do you live? oh my god i’m really so sorry” he apologized profusely. “no” i say flatly. “n-no?” he furrowed his eyebrows. “i don’t have class tomorrow it’s fine” i let out breathy laugh. “do you?” i raise my brows at him. “no” he sighs out in relief. “alright come on. let me walk you home” i barely take two steps when i stop and drop my head into my hands. “my.. RA. it’s past curfew. i’m dead” i say defeated. “oh my friend i can stay with- she has class tomorrow and she’s probably sleeping” i say gaining hope and losing it instantly. “i guess i’ll just take the warning, it’s only one” i start dragging my feet i the direction of my dorm. “you could.. stay the night with me. my RA isn’t as strict with the rules”. was that nervousness i heard in his voice? jackson? the same jackson that told me stories of him being bold and fearless? jackson? wang? never. “i don’t want to be a burden-“ i wave him off. “ you won’t be” he insists. i look into his eyes and really sink deep into those two chocolate pools. all that is visible is purity and good intentions; i trust him. “ok” i smile. “thank you” “no problem”

we get to his dorm and as he is unlocking the door he informs me that his 3 other roommates won’t be there until late that night so we’re safe from the teasing. he opens the door and lets me in first. it’s dark until jackson comes in and turns on the kitchen light. he sits around the island and i join him. i take this time to look around. right across from the kitchen was the living room that was in good shape for 3 boys, diagonal of the living room was the laundry room that was neat too, there was a walkway from the front door in between the laundry room and the kitchen leading to the living room, and one long hallway/walkway passing in between the living room and the kitchen continuing both ways to god knows where. there was also a sliding door in the living room leading to the balcony. “you must be hungry. do you want me to cook or is takeout ok?” come to think of it i haven’t eaten since lunch.  i was so absorbed in jackson that i didn’t even realize how hungry i am. “yeah, takeout is fine” “is pizza ok?” he says pulling out his phone. “oh pizza is more than ok” i say, starting to get excited “ok miss pizza what would you like on it?” “pepperoni please~” “alright.. and the pizza is on it’s way” he hops off the chair with ‘hmph’. he walks over to me and holds his hand out to help me down. “thank you” i take his hand and get off the chair. “come on i’ll give you everything you need”. he leads me to his room at the end of the short hallway without letting go of my hand. he turns on fairy lights that aren’t too bright but are enough to make everything visible. he turns to the left to his walk-in closet to retrieve me a hoodie and some sweatpants. he tells me that when i go in the bathroom there should be an extra toothbrush behind the mirror. i say thank you for the 100th time today and go to sit on his bed to wait for him. “i can put something on if you want” he come and sits next to me on the bed. “mm..” i think about all the shows that i need to catch up on and finally choose one. “can you put on ‘he is psychometric’?” “ohh yes! what episode are you on?” he gets excited. “the last one and it’s so good, i just never have time to watch” “me either” he puts it on the tv and the pizza arrives. “that was quick” i say shocked because my pizza takes at least an hour to come. “yeah the place is right down the block; convenient” he comes back to the room with pizza and shuts the door.

we finish ‘he is psychometric’ and both of the pizzas. “i’m gonna go change” i take jackson’s clothes to the bathroom. i change into the comfy clothes that smells like him and brush my teeth. i pull my hair into a bun that i ruled ok for jackson to see and leave the bathroom. “oh you look good in my clothes but don’t go stealing it now” he says like he’s my father and gives me a stern look. i giggle and say “ok” sarcastically. he goes in the bathroom to change as well. i pull my notepad and pencil out my bag and sit in front of what seems to be his work desk. i write more analyzations and now have to flip the page thanks to jackson teaching me how to properly read people. i’m on a roll until jackson presses his hands on my shoulders and yells “boo!” “oh my god!” i jump and turn around in the swivel chair. “i’m sorry i had to” he laughs at me hysterically. “yah~ don’t do that! stop laughing!” i smack him on the shoulder repeatedly. “ok ok, yah!” he grabs hold of my wrists and is now inches away from my face; staring into my eyes. “i-i’m tired. where can i sleep?” i had to break the growing silence. jackson lets go and backs away “you can sleep on my bed, i’ll set up on the couch” he said walking towards the door. “no” i command, stopping him in his tracks. “ when the guys get home they’re going to ask why you’re on the couch and from the stories you’ve told me, you’re not a good liar” he turns back around but still doesn’t move. “you’re right” he says grinning. “well get on the bed so that when i turn off the lights you won’t trip and break your neck” “alright, no need to reference that traumatic story ok, that was a very scary experience” i say getting on the bed. “i’m just saying if you had a night light-“ “ok! jackson! good night!”

i was on the edge of sleep when i felt a heavy arm fall around my waist and a warm body touching all of my back side. steady breathing was blowing on the baby hairs on the back of my neck. he was sleeping. i suddenly started to feel uncomfortable in the position i was in and couldn’t take it anymore. while adjusting and re-adjusting my lower half, i inevitably brush up against jackson’s area. he didn’t respond so i assumed he just didn’t feel it so i continued on the quest to getting comfortable, all the while rubbing against him with my ass. suddenly jackson grips my hip. “you better stop playing with me” he growls lowly into my ear, ultimately ruining my new underwear i got from victoria secret on sale but i couldn’t possibly be mad at him. the ache in my core was way too strong to ignore so i reply as seductively as i could “who said i was playing?” while pushing up against him. he groans and i feel him grow beneath me. he attaches his lips to my neck and sucks and nips and licks away. he finds my spot at the base of my neck and i let out a low moan. when he feels as of though he’s left a satisfactory mark, he licks and kisses the spot. he turns me to face him and wastes no time in connecting his lips to mine. passion begins to fill the room as he climbs on top of me. the hands that are on my waist start travelling under his hoodie i had on. his warm hands on my bare skin was setting me on fire. one of his legs that was positioned between my legs started to rub against my core. i moan loudly into his mouth and he doesn’t miss his chance to stick his tongue in my mouth. i break the kiss to catch my breath and jackson moves back to my neck to leave more marks. i was lost in my own pleasure when i come to my senses. “jackson” i breathe out. he removes his lips from my neck for a brief moment “yes baby”. “what about the guys?” “fuck the guys” he tugs at the bottom of his hoodie and he looks up at me asking for permission. i nod and he removes the hoodie swiftly as he begins kissing his way down my body.

i wake up the next morning with the comforter covering more than half of my face so the sunlight seeping through the window didn’t bother me too much. i was initially startled about where i was but i soon remembered. then i remember the events of the night before. i turn around to see the beautiful man that shared the events of the night before with me. the light highlighting his features perfectly. from his fluffy, messy hair to his soft, plump lips. i move to brush away the hair that was in his face and move down to caress his cheek. how did this even happen? and how did it happen so quickly? i guess it’s the jackson effect. he flutters his eyes open and when he sees me, he immediately gives the softest smile. he pulls me closer in his arms and whispers “good morning princess”. i hum and say good morning back. “how’d you sleep?” he kisses my forehead. “really good” i take a deep breath, inhaling his intoxicating natural scent. we stay like that for a while until we realize that we have to leave before the guys wake up and tease us. or the extreme awkwardness considering the fact that we may or may not have gotten a noise complaint. jackson gives me fresh clothes to leave in and i freshen up, doing most but not all of my morning routine due to the shortage of time. i grab my bag and exit the room with him. we’re walking down the hallway when i forget my notepad on his work desk and go back for it. on the way back to him i hear voices coming from the living room, i stay out of sight to eavesdrop. “jackson i swear to god you should do my- no our homework for the next week” one voice says, putting emphasis on ‘our’. “i shut my door, turn my music on my speaker up all the way, and even covered my ears with 2 pillows but could still fucking hear you two. jackson i swear to god if you don’t warn us next time” another voice says and lets out a deep sigh. “you guys i’m sorry i really didn’t plan-“ another voice cuts him off . “no you’re not sorry, you’re gonna be sorry when your ass is doing my physics homework for the next week” “i don’t even know how to do physics” “well you better figure it out” i couldn’t hear anymore of this, i had to save him. i walk out into the living room “um.. g-good morning” i wave awkwardly. damn! this is exactly what i wanted to avoid. they all look up at me with wide eyes “good morning” they say all out of sync. jackson stands next to me and holds my hand “this is my girlfriend, y/n” my heart drops, comes back up, does some somersaults, and skips numerous beats. “y/n this is jinyoung, jaebeom, and mark”. i give a small closed-mouth smile. “well, this was fun but y/n and i have places to be” he looks down at me and smiles “let’s go” jackson starts walking to the door and drags me along. i look back and wave goodbye and so do they, still looking baffled. jackson locks the door and we start walking down the hallway. ”i could tell you were uncomfortable so i had to get you out of there” he says with a hint of urgency in his voice and i laugh. “thank you but were we really that loud?” i ask putting emphasis on ‘that’. “i don’t know but what i do know is that i’m that good” i roll my eyes at him “yeah ok”. “so ‘girlfriend’ huh?” he looks down and scratches the back of his neck. “y-yea” his ears turn red. “you haven’t even taken me out on a date yet.” i scoff in fake disbelief. “i was hoping that i could go on a date today and then i could confess to you but i guess i got a little ahead of myself” “you think?” we chuckled. “confession? how long did you like me?” “ever since i had to do that first project with you in psych 2. whenever i’d ask to meet up and you said you couldn’t it always made me think you didn’t like me. and when we did you were kind of standoffish so i gave up. until you sat next to me yesterday” he smiles thinking about it. “i’m sorry that i made you think that i was just so intimidated by you and your good looks and what not.” “good looks?” he raises his eyebrow at me. “take the compliment or i’ll take it back” “oh no thank you thank you”

we leave his dorm building to the parking lot and his car. “i changed up our schedule for today a little bit.” he unlocks the doors and we get in. “what did you change?” he starts the car so the hot air doesn’t literally suffocate us. “after we visit your dorm we have to go to the mall”. he takes my hand and intertwined our fingers. “the mall? why?” i look over at him and furrow my eyebrows. he looks at me and smirks “to get you back that cute little underwear i tore off you last night” brings my hand to his lips and kisses it.

#jackson wang #jackson wang got7 #jackson wang fic #jackson wang fanfic #jackson wang fluff #jackson wang smut #wang jia er #jackson wang imagine #jackson wang scenario #jackson got7 #got7 #got7 fic #got7 fanfic #got7 fluff #got7 smut #got7 imagine #got7 imagines #got7 scenario #got7 jackson #jackson #college au #jackson college au #jackson wang college au

[shramith54]

Reflective E-portfolio

Week 2: Starting Out

I arrived in Melbourne in February and had to wait for a month for the semester to start. So, I was eagerly waiting for the start of the semester. I had purchased a lot of notebooks and stationery to get me started however I was in for a surprise on the first day when I saw most of my classmates using their laptops to take notes. I haven’t used any of the notebooks I bought and took me a couple of weeks to get used to using my laptop to study. I quickly had to learn to organize all of my study materials into files and folders on my laptop to help me with my studies. I knew studying in a different country is going to be completely different from what I was used to. Therefore, my approach going in during the first week was to get myself adapted as quickly as possible. I also found at the weekly PowerPoint presentation on each subject to be very useful to help with studying and a great way of keeping track of the topics that are covered during the week.

Artifacts

My notebook collection ( Shramith’s gallery)

 Week 5: Teamwork

During my group assignment we came up with a lot of good ideas and our execution was very good considering the circumstances.  We had to deliver our presentation online which proved to be quiet challenging. we decided to stick to the task we were assigned and not completely overhaul our presentation.  The leader of a group must know when to delegate tasks and share the workload. Their responsibility includes recognizing that something has changed and the group needs to act accordingly( Frassl, Marieke, A , Hamilton, David , P, Denfeld & Blaize, A 2018 ). All members from my group delegate tasks to themselves to ease the workload of the team. We were quick in coming up with subtle changes to our presentation when there was a change in the platform for the presentation. The subtle changes I had to make to remember my content while presenting such as having a couple of stick notes stuck on my wall for helping me present online. Peer feedback was crucial in highlighting our coverage on different aspects of the topic. I intend to explore and take different approaches in researching for further topics to improve on my writing skills.

Artifacts

Sticky notes on my desk wall ( Shramith’s gallery)

Peer feedback ( Shramith’s laptop gallery) 

Frassl, Marieke, A , Hamilton, David , P, Denfeld & Blaize, A 2018, ‘ Ten simple rules for collaboratively writing a multi-authored paper’, PLOS computational biology, vol. 14, no. 11, pp. 1-8, viewed 18 May 2020, Proquest database

Week 7: Self-management:- motivation and resilience 

Just a couple of weeks into the semester and we had to shift online for our classes. I had never been part of an online class before so I found it for the first couple of weeks to sit in front of my laptop. I tend to become a tad lazy during this period as I had nowhere to go and the classes were virtually a step away from my bed. When a felt my focus dropped significantly, I started to find new spaces around the house to just bring in a change. I started sitting in the kitchen and after spending about 40-50 mins there I started to move to the common area for the next 40-50 just to change the environment. Initially when I got a job balancing it with my assessments became a task. I started to schedule my days and the amount of work I had to do each day to complete my assessments on time while I was working. It was a challenge to stick to the schedule I had worked out as I would be exhausted after I got back from work and the tasks, I had to complete seemed very daunting. I decided to reschedule my tasks for the day to help ease the burden and It has helped me maintain a good balance between work and my studies.

Artifacts

Studying in the Kitchen ( Shramith’s gallery)

Week 9: understanding and utilizing feedback

The grades I received by my teacher on my research essay (A3) in business communication for which I had put in a lot of time was overwhelming at first. However, after I read the entire feedback which consisted of things I had done well and highlighted the things I need to work on I got done to solving the issues for other assessments. I had never used the TEEL structure before. I referred to the weblink my teacher had suggested to help with the TEEL structure which I tried to incorporate in my research essay(A2) in management of sporting organizations. I also tended to not proofread my work after editing out grammatical mistakes in my assessments. Without proofreading my work, I never used to notice if my sentences were linked to one another and if it made sense to the reader. One of my friends back home suggested I use the read-aloud program on Microsoft word to proofread which has helped me with my other assessments as well. One of the major things I worked on was my use of in-text and secondary citations. I didn’t know the difference between the two until I spoke to my teacher and did some research on my own. I now have a better understanding of in-text and secondary citations and how to use them appropriately.

Artifacts

https://emedia.rmit.edu.au/learninglab/content/paragraph-structure

 Week 11: Managing assessments

My strong-points this semester for most of my assignments have been researching for information and referencing it with the help of Holmesglen Harvard guide. Before I start searching for credible information, I make a note of all the things I know about the topic first. This helps me come with keywords and terms which help me find relevant information that I want to include in the assessment. I need to improve on using the information I have collected to answer the topic question of the assessment. I need to spend more time proofreading and editing minor errors as they tend to build up during the assessment. The other thing I need to improve is my in-text citations and secondary citations and usage of quotes in my assessment. I need to work on breaking up my paragraphs into smaller ones as I tend to fit all the information, I collected into one big paragraph. During the process of working on my weakness before submitting I feel a bit more confident as I have spent more time on things, I need to improve. I also feel a bit more relaxed before submitting as I constantly get feedback from my teacher on my assessments which always helps me improve on my academic skills.

 Week 13: Future Strategies 

Learnings

Studying in a different environment was always going to be a challenge and going online for practically the whole semester made it a lot tougher to get used to studying in a different environment. In all my years as a student I had never studied online and I always preferred to study on campus to experience university life. I had no idea how to go about studying online and first it did get difficult to use to but I still managed to learn a lot about writing reports and essays, making good presentations, and understanding how to reference and use citations in my assessments.

Skills and attributes

There were a lot of skills I discovered and developed which I never paid much attention to. One such skill was my communication with my teachers. I never asked many questions to help with my work and get feedback on my work as I was always afraid of my work being wrong and not appropriate. When I was encouraged to ask questions, it felt very comforting and now I communicate a lot with my teachers to get from my work and I feel a lot more confident when I hear their thoughts on my work and encourage me to come up with more questions. The other major skill I developed was my balancing my studies and my external interests. This is made me much more efficient and start working out a schedule to manage my studies and my interests better. I have started to plan to manage my tasks for my studies and external interests to ease the load of work I do daily.

Positives of this semester

1)    Getting myself more involved during class by asking a lot of questions.

2)    Asking for guidance from my teachers when I need it.

3)    Adapted considerably well to studying in a different environment

4)    Striking out a balance between my studies and external interests.

Improvements for the next semester

1)    Spend more time on my assessments

2)    Keep Working on my writing skills  

3)    Use my textbooks more for getting more information for my assessment.

Artifacts

My E-mail ( Shramith’s laptop gallery)

[today-only-happens-once]

Crossroad

Title: Crossroad

Word count: 1983

Summary: The policy in unjust, and Logan has a decision to make. Teacher!Logan. Logicality, familial LAMP/CALM.

Warnings: transphobia, discussion of outing/getting outed, dysphoria mention, cursing, arguing.

A/N: I am angry. This is a vent fic, really. I’m just… sorry, I guess. Not really edited. Probably not very good? But hey, here this is anyway. Again, I’m sorry.

..

“Are there any questions?”

The question at the staff meeting sends Logan’s hand straight up in the air. Because he is certain he must have heard them wrong. There’s no way in hell—

“Yes, Logan?”

Logan keeps his expression neutral as he adjusts the frame of his glasses. “You mean to tell us that we are now contractually required to report suspicions of gender deviance to our students’ parents? Regardless of potential risks that may induce?” His tone is ice. Beneath it burns a fury so hot Logan can feel it simmering in his stomach.

The principal gives him a dry look. “Yes. We are calling it our “Rights of the Parent” initiative.”

Bullshit, Logan thinks. “What rights are those, exactly?” Logan can feel the eyes of his fellow teachers and administrators flickering nervously between him and the principal. Logan does not care.

“We are upholding the rights of the parents to all the information regarding their child so as to help keep families together,” comes the clipped reply.

“What about the rights of our students?” Logan demands coldly.

“The administration stands behind this initiative. You all are contractually required to report any questions or signs regarding a changing gender identity or seeking help for gender dysphoria.”

Logan doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how. He sits rigid and silent and fuming until the meeting is officially ended. He sees the principal casting him furtive glances but Logan simply stands up and walks out of the room.

…

“Rough day, Lo?” Patton asks him after dinner.

“Hm?”

Patton gives him a small, concerned smile as he starts cleaning off the table. “You’ve been really quiet tonight and barely touched your dinner.”

Logan groans and rubs a hand over his eyes under his glasses. “I’m sorry, Patton. It was not intended to be a slight on you. Your cooking is always appreciated.”

“What’s on your mind?” Patton asks softly. Logan feels him place his hands on Logan’s shoulders.

“Patton,” Logan says haltingly. “I… seem to have come to a kind of moral crossroads. And I am not sure what the best course of action is.” Logan looks up at his husband. His patient, soft face felt like a steady rock in the sudden sea of uncertainty and doubt Logan had found himself thrust into the past few hours. “Your input would be… greatly valued.”

Patton frowns and pulls out the chair at the corner of the table beside Logan. “Talk to me.”

Logan rests his head in his hands. “My boss has essentially instituted a new clause that I am contractually obligated to follow or risk losing my job. The ramifications of being caught in not following this addition to our contract could also potentially damage future opportunities to pursue this field. And to risk this job, without consulting you, seems… irresponsible, at best. I do not wish to place the financial burden of this family solely on your shoulders. Especially with Virgil going to college in two years.”

The kitchen is quiet for a moment. The only sound to be heard is a song floating through the closed door and down the stairs from Virgil’s room—something with a fast beat and heavy bass that Logan can’t identify—and the whir of the refrigerator. Logan lifts his head out of his hands and locks gazes with his husband.

Patton sighs and covers Logan’s hand with one of his own. “Why don’t you want to follow it?”

“They are requiring that we out transgender students to their parents,” Logan says, no longer able to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “And I… I don’t know that I can, in good conscience, follow that.” He flips the hand Patton is covering up so that his palm is touching his husband’s before entwining their fingers together. When he looks back up at Patton, he sees that a brightness and pained empathy shining in them.

“Logan,” Patton says softly. “I have your back. Always have, always will. You have to do the right thing here.”

Logan takes in a deep breath and releases it in a huff. “I just wish I knew what that was, Patton. I can’t carry it out. That much is certain. But… does this mean I leave the school? That feels…” Logan isn’t sure how to explain the slightly sour taste the thought leaves on his tongue, or the twist it pulls in his stomach. “Cowardly. It feels cowardly, to leave those kids to fend for themselves in an institution that is willing to so greatly dismiss their well-being and best interest.”

Logan feels Patton squeeze his hand. He is grateful for the small reminder and reassurance the action gives him. Logan holds onto his hand like it’s a lifeline.

“But does staying mean I’m condoning it? Does it make me complicit in the injustice?” Logan can tell the frustration is starting to boil over in the biting way the words push past his lips. “Would leaving be a sign that I don’t stand for it and neither should the students? Or is it just running away when they need an advocate from inside?”

Logan’s hand curls into fist. Patton reaches across the table and covers that hand too until Logan relaxes his grip.

“Logan.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

The high school science teacher looks up at his partner and is surprised when he feels soft lips meeting his own, Patton’s hand cupping his jaw. Logan’s eyes close and he leans into the kiss, releasing a faint breath when Patton pulls away. He brushes his thumb back and forth across Logan’s cheek.

“You are going to figure out what the best course of action is,” Patton assures him. “But this decision has to be yours. I can’t tell you what to do here. I’ll support you no matter what.”

Logan swallows and nods.

…

Logan sits at his desk the following morning as students start making their way into his room. Some of them have earbuds in, nodding along to whatever beat is helping them prepare for the day ahead. Others come in with friends, laughing and elbowing one another and saying things that Logan is almost certain is either a reference to something he’s never seen or an inside joke.

Two boys talk about the basketball game they won last night. A small group of them come in talking excitedly about how casting calls would be posted at the end of the day for the school’s production of The Crucible. One of them is Virgil’s best friend, Roman. The rising theatre star flashes a bright smile to the science teacher. Logan gives him a polite, acknowledging nod in return. Roman’s smile dims.

The bell rings a few minutes later. The class takes their seats. It’s all very ‘business as usual’, except that Logan can’t help but feel like something has fundamentally changed. Something he can’t quite pin-point.

He looks at the podium at the front of the room, off-center so as to not block the screen behind it. The class looks at him—half of them expectant, half of them already bored—as the PowerPoint slide with the title of the unit in big, bold letters glares from the screen behind him. Logan looks back at them.

He switches off the projector and takes a seat on the stool in the front of the room. The class straightens up almost as a cohesive unit. Logan looks at them all again and sighs.

“We’re going to postpone Chapter 9 until next week,” Logan tells them. “There’s something I want to talk to you all about today.”

A student in the back raises her hand. Logan nods to her. “What are we gonna talk about instead, Mr. Sanders?”

“I want to talk to you all about identity.” Logan gives the class a steady, quiet look. “And I have the feeling this may be the most important thing I teach you all in our entire year together. So if you don’t take anything away from today except one thing, know this: you are the expert on yourself. Nobody has the right to your identity but you.”

…

“You quit? What do you mean ‘you quit’?”

Logan stares at the principal unflinchingly. “I mean I am tendering my resignation from this school. I am willing to fulfill my two weeks obligation should it be necessary, but I do not feel that this establishment is reflective of my ideals as an educator.”

“Sanders, you’ve worked at this school for the past—“

“Eight years,” Logan replies coldly. “Yes, I am quite aware.”

“What changed?”

Logan’s jaw jumps. “As an educator, the safety of my students and their freedom of expression is my absolute top priority. You have thrown both to the wind with this ridiculous ‘Rights of Parents’ initiative. Frankly, these students deserve better from you, sir.”

The principal’s face flushes red, his nostrils flaring. “That is not your call to make.”

“You’re right,” Logan admits. “It’s not. But I cannot work at an institution that knowingly puts my students at risk.”

“You have no evidence that this intitative is putting anyone at risk—“

Logan feels his frustration flaring. “Suicide rates for LGBTQ+ teens has risen in the last twenty years. Forcing teens in vulnerable positions to be outed to someone who is responsible for them financially and is expected to care for their well-being not only may put them at risk if those caretakers are not supportive—“

“Now wait a minute—“

“—but is also a complete violation of their own autonomy as human beings,” Logan continues, his voice rising slightly to speak over the interruption. “Nobody has a right their identity but them. Who that gets shared with should be up to them. Not you, not me, but them.”

“I will not have you questioning—“

Logan shakes his head. “I resign, sir,” he says bitingly. “Effective immediately or in two weeks is up to you.” He pushes himself up from the desk and grabs his jacket that he had slung over the back of the chair, walking out of the office.

“Immediately,” he says sharply. “You’re lucky I don’t fire you instead, Sanders.”

Logan lets the door slam closed behind him.

…

“Uh, dad?”

It’s two days later, and Logan looks up from the laptop in his lap as he sits on the couch. Virgil stands in the front door, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He has a handful of envelopes in his hands. Logan arches an eyebrow at his son.

“Yes?”

“Here.” He holds out the envelopes to Logan. “These are for you.”

Confused, Logan takes them from Virgil. He sees “Mr. Sanders” written on the front of most of them. There’s seven of them. Logan looks up at Virgil who is has this odd look in his eyes that Logan can’t quite place.

“What are they?” he asks.

“Letters,” Virgil explains simply. “Word about why you left has started getting around the school, and… well, a lot of people actually think it was pretty cool of you. People started handing me letters they wanted to give to you.”

“Oh,” Logan says, surprised. “Um, thank you, Virgil.”

“Dad?”

“Hm?”

Logan coughs in surprise when Virgil suddenly gives him a fierce hug. “What you did? That was… pretty cool. It… mattered. To more than just a few people. So… thanks for sticking up for them.”

Logan manages a small smile as Virgil pulls away. “Always, Virgil.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #vent fic #teacher!logan #high school au #family au #human au #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #transphobia #getting outed #gender dysphoria

[justin-chapmanswers]

I'm helping my (internet) friends make an object show, and I'm unfortunately not that confident about it, as we're all under 18 and don't have the money to really afford good quality mics or animation software. I'm wondering if you have any tips for people on a budget trying to make an object show for the first time?

Working under a tight budget is tough, that’s undeniable. I think the important thing to keep in mind is that having expensive utilities available does not guarantee success in the first place, it simply makes the process easier. Having the best equipment and software in the world isn’t going to do all that much for people who aren’t familiar with the basics in the first place. If you are incredibly passionate about this work, I would consider investing your money into equipment over time, but for the time-being take your time in that department and really focus in on proving that, as artists, you can make do with what you have.

I am far more interested in consuming media that is bare-bones in its visual and audio presentation but has masterful storytelling than the reverse, and I think much more of your potential audience will agree than the average person assumes. Know your story. Know your characters. Whether or not you will have full control over when your characters come and go (per your decision), it is imperative that you treat each and every installment as its own distinct collection of story and character arcs. If you set up your show in a manner in which you can play every detail out ahead of time, even better! Within an episode, an arc of episodes, or a full season/series you are able to construct interesting narratives in which characters are given obstacles: physical, emotional or otherwise. Especially in an object show you are given a set of obstacles, be it through challenges or the emotional burden of competition. On a budget or not, this is the heart of your show. No matter how the technical presentation comes across you can garner and audience through excellent storytelling. Anyone can do it with practice. ESPECIALLY you!

As for the technical department, itself, let’s talk audio. Back in early 2009 I picked up a ‘lil $10 Logitech microphone at Target and got started on my first voice performance (as Lakitu found here) and I wouldn’t say it’s all that bad. A little bad. Tiny bit. But it worked! Plug in a cheap mic, download Audacity for free, and you’re already well on your way. Audacity isn’t top-of-the-line, but as far as free programs go it works really well, and is probably your lowest priority for upgrading beyond if you choose to bump up your equipment/software. The focus here comes down to putting in a strong, meaningful performance as your character, working around your mic limitations through setup and Audacity editing, and being open to re-recording. It happens!

I’m going to skip over talking vocal performances for the time being (I can always return to that upon request) and stick the practical here. With any microphone set up you’re going to want to do as much as you can to keep your accosting integrity in good standing. What I mean by that, firstly, is recording in a location that absorbs noise. Typically being in echo-y locations, we’re trained to ignore our own voices reverberating (unless it is to an intense extent), so sometimes noticing whether a voice echoes in a recording takes a lot of focus. It’s often not as intense as an echo you’d hear in, say, a cave, just ever so slight to break the illusion of a character being right there on screen and not someone speaking through a microphone. This is solved low-budget quite simply in recording in tight spaces with as much sound-absorbing material as possible. The best option would be hanging up clothes, blankets, or simply recording in a closet- so long as it’s safe. (The higher-budget alternative is buying acoustic foam or utilizing, specifically, a sound booth.) Watch your recording program, find your balance of recording as loudly and clearly as you can while also not getting too close to your audio peaking (the little soundy wave bois not hitting the top/bottom of your recording strip pal). The audio can be made louder or softer later, but peaking is much tougher to fix back up.

It also helps to have any sort of make-shift pop filter you can get together. They’re foam or a screen that you can typically buy cheap that will catch some of the plosives and other weird noises your mouth makes without you noticing before they hit the microphone, which is very helpful in the longterm. And, if you don’t feel like buying them, I know Adam used a sock for a while early on and it worked just fine. Just throw that boi right over the microphone and listen back to how the quality changes. If it’s roughly the same, you’re in the clear for your early, low-budget project.

There’s also plenty that can be done in Audacity to set your audio apart from the rest. I’d say top priority is dealing with background noise. I’m not speaking to parents chatting or the house’s floorboards mysteriously creaking in the background (because that should not be heard whatsoever in your area of recording, listen back to a dialogue-less track of your audio to make sure none of that is coming through), here I am talking to the consistent track of buzzzzz or variation that will come across in any cheaper microphone. The world makes noise, some you can’t hear, and your microphone eats it up. It’ll be in the back of your recording track, and getting rid of it goes a long way. Here the simplest means of going about fixing that is to, at the very start or end of your recording session, record a solid fifteen seconds of background noise without aaaaany noises on your part. Listen back, grab just the few seconds of bg noise that has the most consistent sound without your breathing or other interference, go to effects and hit “noise reduction” (or “noise removal” in other versions), hit “get noise profile,” now highlight eeeeeverything you’ve recorded, go back to “noise removal,” start by setting your noise reduction to around 10-15, and hit “okay.” Listen back and see if that did the job, you may need to make the number a bit higher (I try my best to avoid the 20s). The job here is to use as little of it as possible to get the job done, as the more you use the more of a chance it has at diminishing the quality of your recording. You can also use “equalization” in this process, lowering or boosting very specific frequencies, if you are willing to experiment and get a feel for it. Some others use “compression” to get a much fuller-sounding voice, although if anything I keep this to a minimum and save it more-so for non-narrative pieces where a single voice needs to be dominant.

In the case of audio peaking, clipping, or any plosives/pops/background sounds coming through, you have to be comfortable with re-recording. Going back into your recording spot for a minute goes a long way for a product that you’ll be putting up alone for a forever. This also goes for potentially going in for a strong performance, but that is more subjective and up to a standard you must set, yourself. After that it is your job to bring all the audio from all characters together and balance all of them out neatly volume-wise, pace the recordings out, add in sound effects and music as necessary and balance them out too (a common mistake is making music too loud for the audience to understand what the characters are saying because the sound editor already knows what the characters are saying, so there’s a disconnect). With enough time you will have an excellent audio skeleton for your animation, even with a low budget.

I’ll be honest in that I am much less experienced in animation than I am in audio so I cannot offer all the advice in the world, but here’s what I can say. With the technology available today you are able to create a lot of striking imagery. Whether you use a cheap animation program (do people still use Anime Studio?), Powerpoint, or a more typical program acquired through illegal means (which I would not say here that I condone, but I am aware it happens and people do what people do), there is no stopping you from coming up with unique visuals. I think in the object show community people get pretty caught up in keeping up standard animation conventions, simply making smooth motions and a good frame-rate and making sure everything looks “professional.” That is a luxury, and especially when you are starting out it is far from necessary.

What you want when you are starting out are visuals that are striking. Creative. Memorable. You’re working in animation, the most fluid and fun medium out there! You can spend all day getting bogged down in the basics of movement, which can be important down the line, but what is unique to you is the style that you bring to the table. Make characters do what only animated characters can do. Make characters pose in ways that people can think back on in wonder. As an object show, think of challenges that make characters do the absurd or push them to physical limits. Inanimate Insanity does not get to hit on this often but it is something I value in animation. You can impress people with or without the best animation program in town, it’s just more trying. But far more rewarding.

So much of the magic of object show community is that it works as a training grounds. Create create create! This is the time to do the weird and meaningful things that you might not have an opportunity to create far down the line when responsibilities get in the way. It doesn’t matter in the slightest if your work is perfect, so long as you are creating something and getting it out there and, above all, expressing yourself- I am impressed.

I know that most of this has been more to general show production and not more specifically to object show production, but I think it is important to note that it does work the same as any other show. People will always appreciate good, strong stories, as well as the bare minimum put into your audio and visuals. Effort means the world.

You got this.

#inanimate insanity #jay rambles #jay tutorial

[salmenzo]

Weekly Update - Monday, December 16, 2019

Strengthen - Support - Succeed

“Fra-Gee-Lay - It must be Italian.”

Ralphie’s Father in A Christmas Story

Good Morning,

As we enter the final week of school before the holiday break, I know it can become very stressful with all that you may want to accomplish at home for family and friends.  In my humble opinion, I would recommend that you take a moment and just breathe.  If one tradition or expectation at home is not met, I am quite certain the sun will still rise and set.  Often, we unnecessarily burden ourselves with what we think others expect from us.  However, many times these things are really just for us and not anyone else.  Therefore, pick and choose wisely, and take time to enjoy the holiday season, rather than amassing accomplishing activities and attending events.

Weather Reminder

Just a reminder to review the district calendar regarding snow days and the end of the school year.  The key things to remember are the following:

The last day for students will be Friday, June 19, 2020 if we have 6 snow days.

Any snow days above 6 will be made up from the end of April vacation beginning with April 17, 2020.

In the event that we had more than 11 snow days, the Board of Education could reduce the student year.  However, teachers would still have to complete the 186 work days.  This could mean that the teacher work year would extend into the week of June 22.

As a worst case scenario, the teacher year would end on Wednesday, June 24, 2020.

I wanted to share all of this with you to help alleviate any questions and provide you with the worst case scenarios for summer vacation planning.  

Mark T. Sheehan High School - Titans Football

On Saturday, the Mark T. Sheehan High School Titans played Bloomfield High School in the CIAC Class S Football State Championship.  Sheehan convincingly won 64-33.  It was an amazing game.  Our team wore Bloomfield’s line down.  This paved the way for a successful running and passing game for the Titans.  The energy at the game was incredible.  The stands were filled with students, families, and staff.  Congratulations to our new State Champion Sheehan Titan Football Team, Coach Ferrazzi, and the entire coaching staff!  You definitely made us proud beating the defending champs!!!

A Merry Olde Madrigal Feaste

Saturday evening, I attended A Merry Olde Madrigal Feaste at Mark T. Sheehan High School.  This music event was a wonderful way to continue building the holiday spirit.  A mix of humor, song, and a good meal, the evening was filled with a lot of laughs and enjoyment.  Thank you to all of the students and staff for a great evening.  I appreciate all of the coordination that goes into such an event.

Facility Study Update

On Monday evening, the Board of Education was provided with the attached PowerPoint as an update on the Facility Study.  As was previously discussed, the State offered feedback on each option and provided some additional information on potential reimbursement rates.

Based on information shared from the State, the Board of Education took consensus to investigate, as another option for discussion, a neutral site for the potential of building a new high school.  This was decided based on feedback from the public as well as the discussion of reimbursement rates and eligible and ineligible costs.

No further decisions were made.  Once information on the potential of a site is gathered, it will be shared with the Board of Education.  Again, this was merely another option to discuss. No final decision of the Board of Education was made at this time.  The members wanted to ensure they were doing their due diligence based on the information from the State.  The next update, based on any new information, will not occur before the end of January.  We will be certain, as we do each week, to provide notification of this meeting and its agenda.

Board of Education Meeting

Tonight, there is a Board of Education meeting at 6:30 p.m. in the Robert F. Parisi Town Council Chambers.  This the last meeting for Roxane McKay, Chairperson.  As I shared a few weeks back, I want to thank Roxane for her incredible dedication to the students, families, and staff in the Wallingford Public School District.  She has been an amazing advocate for so many initiatives and services provided to students.  While Roxane will be significantly missed, we wish her all the best as she continues her passion to volunteer on other boards and commissions.  

Please feel free to attend to share your gratitude for her many years of service to the Wallingford Board of Education.

Strengthen - Support - Succeed

Holiday Acts of Kindness 2019 

I wanted to thank staff who took the time to share the many Holiday Acts of Kindness that have taken place as a result of the hard work and dedication of students, families, and staff in our district.  This list grows every year, and it is a tribute to the community spirit in Wallingford.  Thank you so much for all that has been done to help those in and outside of our during the holiday season. Your compassion is incredible!  Such activities truly exemplify our collective efforts to strengthen, support, and succeed!

Make it a great week and holiday break!

Sal

Dr. Salvatore F. Menzo

Superintendent

Email - [email protected]

Twitter - @SalMenzo

Wallingford Public School District

 Wallingford Public School System Mission

To inspire through innovative and engaging experiences that lead all learners to pursue and discover their personal best.

 THE INFORMATION IN THIS TRANSMISSION IS PRIVILEGED AND CONFIDENTIAL AND INTENDED ONLY FOR THE RECIPIENT LISTED ABOVE.  If you have received this transmission in error, please NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY BY E-MAIL AND DELETE THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE. Responses provided by this E-Mail are SIMILAR to ordinary telephone or face-to-face conversations.

[andrewdburton]

Should I stay or should I go? Wrestling with the decision to quit a career

J.D.'s note: In the olden days at Get Rich Slowly, I shared reader stories every Sunday. I haven't done that since I re-purchased the site because nobody sends them to me anymore. But earlier this year, Mike did. I love it. I hope you will too.

Earlier this year, I sent my wife a text message: “On a scale of 1 to 10, how freaked out would you be if I quit my job this afternoon?”

My wife and I had only been married a short while, but she'd known since our second date that I didn't plan to work in my traditional job until normal retirement age. She also knew that I hadn't been very happy at work in recent months.

We're very compatible financially — both savers raised in working-class families that didn't always have a lot. We make a point of having what we like to call “Fun Family Finance Day” from time to time. On Fun Family Finance Day, we do everything from competitively checking our credit scores to discussing questions that get at the root of our money mindsets to help us create our goals.

But this question wasn't part of the plan. Not then.

And it was never on any of the lists of questions that we'd discussed with each other. It was like a pop quiz, a pothole in the smoothest relationship road I'd ever traveled…and I was the one putting it there.

Dreams Remain Dreams Without Doing

My wife and I rarely argue, but when we do it's usually about food. It's the kitchen and the grocery store that are our battleground. Our finances are fine. Thankfully, when you're confident in the life you've created and the person you chose to build it with, it's a lot easier to be honest about what's on your mind.

That still doesn't always mean you get the answer you want. Or the answer you were expecting. She responded: “Wait what. Kinda. What would you do?”

A completely reasonable and fair question. Not to mention one that I'd probably have to get comfortable answering from a lot more people.

I think my immediate reaction was: We talk about this stuff all the time, where is my, “No worries baby, YOLO!”? (I must have watched too many romcoms back before we cut cable from our lives.)

Being a grownup, it turns out, is actually really hard sometimes. I was about to learn that talking about something, and actually doing it, are a world apart.

Life is full of dreamers and doers. Sometimes those two personalities cross over. But there are plenty of people who go through life talking about so many things they'll never have the courage to try — or the discipline and determination to follow through with.

Which person was I? The dreamer? The doer? Or that fortunate combination of both?

Standing on the Ledge

There's a quote perched atop my bucket list of long-term goals:

“At some point, you will need to take a long look in the mirror and ask yourself not just if this is something you wanted to do at one point, but if this is something you will want to have done.”

Words are meaningless without action. It was time for me to take that long look in the mirror. I thought back to one of the questions that my wife and I had previously discussed: What does money mean to you? To me, once I grew out of the “stuff accumulation” phase of my early- to mid-20s, my answer had always been freedom. Money meant freedom. To my wife, the answer was security. Money meant security.

You can probably see how freedom can conflict with security. That was the case here. Not only that, but I was asking to change the perfect plan, one that she was comfortable with and excited about.

That's not one, but two shots against financial security. If I'd thought more about our financial blueprints and how they differ, I might have seen this coming from a mile away!

As I was standing on that ledge, about to quit my job, thoughts started to race through my mind. What did I actually have to lose if made the leap? Lots.

A happy relationship and marriage.

A secure job with solid income, not to mention a sixteen year investment in my career.

Great benefits, including lots of time off, health insurance, 401(k) — even a pension.

The ability to afford anything at any time without any real worry. (Our finances were already on autopilot.)

My work friends and work prestige.

The general day-to-day purpose of a job.

The opportunity to create generational wealth. If we worked until 65, the power of compounding would likely make us ridiculously wealthy.

Today at Get Rich Slowly, let's perform a little exercise. Come stand in my shoes for a minute, won't you? Join me on the ledge. Do you see the beautiful view? The endless opportunity? The excitement that's felt only at the beginning of a grand adventure, an adventure where anything is possible?

Or do you get a queasy feeling in your stomach? Do you feel like you've lost your balance, like you're on the edge of some great catastrophe? Do you see a frightening fall from grace? Does it make you want to back away immediately?

Let's go back to what it felt like to make this decision…

My Situation

I'm 38 years old. I've worked for the same company since I was 22. Corporate insurance is all I know. I'm well paid. I work from home for a solid company with good benefits, plenty of time off, and I really enjoy most of the people I work for and with.

It's the definition of stability — a solid guardrail protecting me from what lies over the ledge. So what's the problem?

A year ago, I took a new position that seemed like a great opportunity. Only it wasn't. The first misstep of my career. A year in, that spot has killed my enthusiasm and engagement. For the first time at work, I'm struggling to get things done.

As an extrovert that derives meaning from helping others, this feels like a prison. My job isn't hard because it's stressful. It's hard because it's boring me to death! And what are any of us doing thinking about personal finance and early retirement if we aren't trying to make better use of our limited time on this planet?

There's a project looming that would require some weekend work once in a while for the foreseeable future, I've avoided it in the past, but my luck is running out. My team — and, more importantly, my position — need to take it on. I understand completely. I just don't want to do it.

At this point in life, my time is way more important to me than money. The weekends and vacations are what I live for. Adventures in the mountains with my friends, quality time with my wife, our dog, and our families – that's what makes me feel alive.

Insurance? Meh.

No little kid ever said they wanted to work for an insurance company and play with spreadsheets and Powerpoint presentations when they grow up. I wanted to be a baseball player, a sports writer, even a professional forklift driver. (Because what's more badass than a forklift when you're a little kid and your dad works at a marina?)

A Glimpse of the Other Side

My wife and I just got back from a delayed honeymoon to Alaska. To say it was incredible would be an understatement. Denali. Kenai. Majestic train rides. Fjords. Glaciers. Bears. Bald eagles. Whales. Hikes.

Life slowed down.

I somehow managed to read five books while doing so many other amazing things. During our more than two weeks off, I got to see what my mind was capable of when it wasn't drowning in useless information and mundane tasks that consume my braindwidth.

We talked to people who had ended up in this wild place through a history of taking risks. Parents that had hitchhiked cross-country and ended up there back in the 70s. Can you imagine? Where we live, a fair number of people never leave their town or state!

Before the trip, I had tried to apply for a few positions. For whatever reason, it just didn't work out. I came home from an amazing glimpse into what life could be to a job that seemed like the polar opposite. (Isn't that every vacation though?) I've felt like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole for a while now. Maybe normal life just isn't for me anymore. Maybe I need something just a little less ordinary.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

I've been practicing the classic tenets of personal finance since I was in my mid- to late-20s. I found an awesome woman in my mid-30s who just happens to be down with this lifestyle as well. We're probably two to three years short of where we want to be based on our master plan of a fully-paid house and a really comfortable number in invested assets.

We'd likely fall somewhere between Agency and Security on the stages of financial freedom.

I know good jobs don't grow on trees, especially where we live. The seasons of the economy are always shifting and there's a chill in the air. Economic winter can't be too far off. My wife still has a solid job, and we live a pretty simple life — albeit in an expensive part of the country. Our main splurge is travel, but otherwise we live well below our means.

All of this knowledge and preparation comes with a cost. Having options can be a burden too, because then you're responsible for making hard decisions. And you're responsible for the outcomes of those choices.

What other options are there?

Be a crappy employee/teammate, and still get paid? Plenty of people have played that game. Get a surgery or two, go out on leave, let performance management run its course for however long that takes, and keep cashing checks the whole time. I don't think I have it in me to put people I respect through that. It's just not who I am.

I work from home, and I still can't bring myself to abandon my laptop. What if someone needs me?

Am I giving up too soon? The finish line seems just around the corner — somehow so close yet so far away.

Should I just suck it up and sell a little more of my soul? Slump my shoulders a little bit more as I trade another piece of myself for money I don't need to buy things I don't want?

As I go back and forth, sometimes I briefly wish I'd never found the personal-finance community. Like Neo in The Matrix, why'd I have to take the damn red pill? Being a mindless consumer wasn't so bad. I would have invested 6-10% in my 401(k) with a traditional pension on top of it.

Forty years on autopilot would have produced a comfortable life of work, nice things — and maybe some time in old age to relax and travel.

Facing Freedom

The whole point of everything I've done since I started this journey was to be in control of my own life. To not be owned by things or circumstances. To have options. Freedom of choice. F-U money.

I have the corporate battle scars and survivor's guilt to understand why that's important.

I've sat on the phone while I heard that my old department was closing down. The sadness and tears in the room. Everyone that had taken me in, given me my chance, taught me the job…basically gone, casualties of a business decision.

I've seen people get laid off who are petrified because they don't know how they'll pay their bills in a couple of weeks. People will be okay eventually though, right?

What about my friend who was struggling last year and left the company? He committed suicide a few months later. Maybe everyone won't be okay eventually. Depression runs in my family. Am I really built for this? That thought is haunting.

It's been said that one of the hardest decisions you'll ever make in life is whether to walk away or try harder. Every bone in my body tells me it's time to walk away, to bet on myself.

The End?

About six months after the text exchange that blindsided my wife, with her support, I hit send on the scariest, most exciting and important one-line email of my professional career. It would also signify the unofficial end of it: “I will be resigning from my position effective Wednesday, June 26th.”

To combine a few lines from my favorite movie, The Shawshank Redemption, some birds just weren't meant to be caged. It's time to get busy living, or get busy dying.

The post Should I stay or should I go? Wrestling with the decision to quit a career appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/decision-to-quit-a-career/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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A Students Prelude to Management and Computer Science

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A Students Prelude to Management and Computer Science

A friend of mine said, “I’ve visited your websites, viewed your articles, and took a look at your background.” It’s apparent to me, you do not have a background in Information Technology (Computer Science) or Business Intelligence as a field of study acknowledging Computer Science.

I wondered, does one have to have a background in IT or BI to qualify as a professional in the industry; or does it take a simple interest?

AutoCAD, C Language, Visual Basic, PowerPoint, JavaScript, Excel, Access, Cobol, Word (Microsoft Suite), Data Entry/Processing, DOS, Fortran, Lotus Notes, Management Information Systems, HTML, and Management cover a broad spectrum within the beginning or preparation in the world of IT / BI. The eclectic value of the specialization in one or more of this study group is the mastery and/or understanding of all.

About a week ago, I was contacted, recruited, and enrolled in a four-year college program. The recruiter was adept at what she was doing and I went along with the schedule as presented. I continually asked, “How am I going to pay for these college courses?” When the prepared documentation was submitted for the finalization process, it all came down to dollars and cents. The financial aid person finally made contact with me assuming that I was a prime candidate for the ‘Stafford Loan!’ This is a general education loan designed for students to enroll in a given college. I explained to the administrator that I am without money, have no wish to establish a loan (for anything), unemployed, and not to mention…my age is also a factor. With the ability to complete the required studies, I would be done in less than a year. I have three years of accredited college courses with an Associate Degree. I estimated that I would be paying off on a student loan for more than a few years if I landed a job. I will soon be sixty years of age. Burdened with an educational loan that would probably be on my plate well after I’m sixty-five, I asked the recruiter and financial aid worker, “Do you really believe that I would take out a loan for an extravagant amount of money in the hopes that I would get hired…at my age?” Even if I were to start up a new business, a loan would be a bit risky…improbable. It would have been a good thing if I were able to get back into the classroom.

Whatever happened to the H1-B Program, The NAFTA Treaty, or the “Financial Hardship” Claus with the “Obama Letter” and/or ex-workers that are forced into the utilization/awarding of UC Benefits?

I was promptly dropped from the student roles by the four-year college.

Meanwhile, I am offering data that may help anyone who is interested in the pursuit of computer science knowledge. Should you be attempting to enroll in computer science and management courses, this information will give you a leg up on what is entailed in this multi-faceted field of study. Many schools will teach these courses as pre-requisite(s) to advanced courses in a four-year college. Even if you are not enrolled or intending to enroll in school but only interested in how it all works, the limited amount of information that is detailed in this message will probably aid you in your preparation and/or research.

The outlined courses are:

COBOL (Common Business Oriented Language):

COBOL was first released in the 1960s as a joint venture of industry, universities, and the United States Government. COBOL’s purpose was to provide a high-level computer programming language for the business world. COBOL directly addresses the basic needs of information processing while being easy to use as well. (Take a look at SQL).

COBOL, BASIC, C, JAVA, and PASCAL are examples of high-end level computer language(s). A low-level language is a programming language requiring knowledge of a computers’ internal components…that are non-transferable.

Auto Cad (Computer Assisted Design):

2D (Dimensional) drafting tasks, allow you to get acquainted with computer assisted designing. Auto Cad is designed to assist you in the creation of landscape plans, including setting up layers, adding text and dimensions while making modifications. You can create electrical diagrams using symbols and attributes.

You are taught how to extract the attributes into an Excel Spreadsheet Program. Boolean operations and modeling construct and analyze complex 2D shapes and images for isometric drafting, a method for simulating 3D drawings and Lt drawings. Explaining the use of Auto Cad, one can learn to embed DWF (Drawing Web format) files in web pages. An overview of Auto Cad and progressive projects teaches you how to create drawing projects, landscape plans, and/or electrical schematics. The Internet-related topics include direct access to particular websites, opening and saving, drawings on the web, and embedding DWF files in a web page,

C Language:

The available text on C Language enables the student to be taught both a rational approach to program development and an introduction to ANSI C. Because the first goal is primary, a disciplined approach to solving problems and applying widely accepted software engineering methods to design program solutions as cohesive, readable, and reusable modules. ANSI C (American National Standards Institute), is a standardized, industrial-strength programming language known for its power and portability. C Language helps the student consolidate their understanding of pointers as arrays, output parameters, and file accesses. Just prior to their exploration of the role of the pointer in dynamic memory allocation.

C Language is widely perceived as a language to be tackled only after one has learned the fundamental of programming in some other friendlier language. Designers as a vehicle for programming the UNIX operating system, C Language found its original clientele among programmers who understood the complexities of the operating system and the underlying machine concepts that are not in the syllabus of a standard introductory programming course. C Language is for computer science majors and/or students of a wide range of other IT/BI disciplines.

Visual Basic:

The easiest and fastest way to write 32-Bit Windows-Based programs is the Microsoft Visual Basic Programming System. One can learn to work with ActiveX controls, compiler options, and new development tools. You can master programming fundamentals, including variables, decision structures, loops, and functions. Creating custom dialog boxes, clocks, menus, animation effects, managing text files, encryption, and sorting algorithms are learned through the utilization of Visual Basic Programming. VB also adds dimension and automation to integrate Microsoft Excel, Microsoft Word, Microsoft Outlook, and other features into an application. Other examples of the integrational power of Visual Basic include the ability to explore ActiveX controls that process RTF (Rich Text Format), run videos, display progress information, and play audio compact discs (CDs). You can also call the memory management function in the Windows API (Application Program Interface), download FTP (File Transfer Protocol), and HTML (Hyper Text Markup Language) files from the Internet and design DHTML (Dynamic Hyper Text Markup Language) pages, exploit ActiveX data objects (ADO) with learned skills from Visual Basic.

PowerPoint:

PowerPoint is a computer presentation graphics package. It gives you everything you need to produce a professional-looking presentation, i.e., word processing, outlining, drawing, graphing, and presentation management tools. A formal presentation to a large audience using 35mm slides of a more intimate presentation in a small conference room using overhead monitors, and/or an email presentation – PowerPoint has it all! The user is empowered with an outline to help organize his/her thoughts, an on-screen slide show with special effects such as animated bullet points, speakers notes, and audience handouts. Users of PowerPoint create color schemes, masters, and templates…there are ways to create the look you want for your presentation.

JavaScript:

It is supposedly easy according to some JavaScript authors. To start a simple script that makes cool things happen on your web page…in addition to more complicated stuff, as you need it.

Because the web is a dynamic medium, page designers want their pages to interact with the user. It soon became obvious that HTML was insufficient to handle the demand. JavaScript was invented by Netscape to control the web browser, and add pizzazz and interactivity to your web pages.

Excel:

Objectives – to reach the fundamentals of Microsoft Excel, to expose students to examples of the computer as a useful tool, to develop an exercise – oriented approach that will allow students to learn by example and to encourage independent study. Students are introduced to Excel terminology, the excel window, and basic characteristics of a worksheet and workbook. The applications include entering text, numbers, selecting a range using the auto sum button, copying using the fill handle, changing font size, bolding, centering across columns and rows (columns and fields), the auto format command, charting using the chart wizard, and the auto calculate area throughout the grid of columns and rows of the Excel spreadsheet. Any form of accounting, be it business, personal, or otherwise, Excel is a must study program for recording, charting, and analytics.

Access:

Microsoft Access includes two tools that provide assistance in helping to refine the design of an Access database. The GUI (Graphic User Interface) Development Environment of Microsoft Access, with menu commands, toolbars, buttons, tooltips, examples, and help screens make development easier. Sound, quality relational database design and development requires considerable knowledge and expertise, no matter what the platform. Access, a Relational Data Base Management System, has the ability to manage data files from a single database. A must study course for any and all Data Base Administration, Business Administration, Secretarial Administration, and Computer Science students.

Word (CMOU – Certified Microsoft Office User):

Creating and Editing word documents; Wizards and Templates to create a Cover letter and Resume; creating a Research Paper with a Table; creating Web Pages; creating a document with a Title Page and Tables; generating Form Letters, Mailing Labels, and Envelopes; creating a Professional Newsletter, and using Word Art to add Special Text Effects to a Word document.

DOS (Direct Operating System):

Before Windows, there was DOS. With just a few mouse clicks, any Windows PC can revert to the original “Disk Operating System.” Under DOS, all program files are named with either a COM, and EXE, or a BAT ending (called a filename extension). The DIR (Directory) Command is used to find files by name as well as to locate files in other Sub Directories on a disk. The output of the DIR command shows a list of files on a disk. The list has five columns: the file’s name, the file’s extension (part of the name), the file’s size (in bytes or characters), the date the file was created or last modified, and the time of the last modification (changes).

Lotus Notes:

Lotus Notes is a Document-Centric Database Management System. Lotus Notes is a Cross-Platform, Secure, Distributed Document-Oriented Database, Messaging Framework and Rapid Application Development Environment that includes Per-Built Applications. Lotus Notes is an Integrated Desktop Client Option for accessing business email, and Groupware System. Lotus Notes operates as the Client Side of a Client – Server Application.

Fortran (A Scientific Language):

Formula Translation – was designed to allow easy translation of math formulas into a code of High-End Language. Fortran was designed n the 1950s. It used the first compiler (A program that translates source code into object code) ever developed. Fortran was designed to be a programming language that would be suitable for a wide variety of applications while being easy to learn

Fortran expresses mathematical functions as it permits severely complex mathematical functions to be expressed similarly to regular algebraic notations.

RDBMS (Relational Database Management Systems):

RDBMS was designed for the business organization. It requires extremely careful planning, setting up and maintenance. A database is a collection of information that’s related to a particular subject or purpose, such as tracking customer orders or maintaining a music collection. If your database isn’t stored on a computer, or only parts of it are, you may be tracking information from a variety of sources that you have to coordinate or organize yourself. Access can manage all or your information from a single database file, within the file, divide your data into separate storage containers called tables; view, add, and update by using forms; find and retrieve just the data you want by using queries; and analyze or print data in specific layout by using reports. RDBMS Systems allow users to view, update, or analyze the database’s data from multiple locations. When the data is updated, it is automatically updated everywhere it appears.

Information Management Systems (M.I.S.):

MIS combines tech with business to get users the information they need to do their jobs Better Smarter and Faster. MIS Systems are planned systems of the collecting, processing, storing, and disseminating data in the form of information that is needed to carry out the functions of management. The system(s) consist of people, equipment, and procedures to gather, sort, analyze, evaluate, and distribute needed, timely, and accurate information to decision makers – “The Right Information to the Right People At The Right Time!”

MIS is actually Information Technology Management and arguably not considered to be computer science. Armed with this information, the contingent, aspiring, Computer Science, Business Administration, Secretarial Sciences, Computer Hardware (A plus), and Accounting Student(s) will be prepared to face the challenges the IT/BI industry and the respective colleges have to dish out.

My friend and other cynics have caused me to wonder after comments were made. I wondered, what does it take…what form of study qualifies as a computer science student with a major in IT/BI? Well, I’ve studied all of the aforementioned programs and/or courses with an acceptable level of understanding, study, utilization, and practice…not to mention all of the other technological software/programs, articles, periodical reports, and white papers involved in the learning process? Is it due to my background and experience in the Transportation / Hospitality / Customer Service Industry for a good many years? Or was it in fact… IT/BI Study/Research was secondary? “One Never Knows…Do One?”