#and of course the highschool dropout thing

[eggthew]

there are free tafe courses available and I am Looking At Them but I'm also very doubtful about my ability to do anything that complex. there is a reason why I have never fully completed any education

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Tucker gets hired by the JL to work on the Watchtower’s cybersecurity... He might have a few friends visit. 

Batman looked over the application for visitors presented to him by Dr. Foley, who was nervously wringing his hands but seemed excited to talk about his two close associates, and it appeared that everything was in order for the pair to be allotted a short visitation time slot. 

The paperwork was established by Batman himself after all, needing a way to permit non-members (His Children) to visit him at his office in the watchtower. Looking over Dr. Foley’s application, the invites to Dr. D. Fenton and Dr. S. Manson seemed to be somewhat warranted.

Dr. Fenton is a well known astrophysicist and Dr. Foley had been upping the security to reflect more complex physics models as the ‘lock’ mechanism for access to Watchtower servers. Dr. Manson was a more controversial figure in social justice but a biochemist to rival Dr. Pamela Isley, not to mention she was someone Bruce Wayne had met a number of times and not completely hated (though he was sure she hated him and everyone else in the gala). She was a fan favorite guest by his children and a great advocate for animal and human rights. 

Batman approves the application, allowing their visitation for a few hours at a time once a week until the completion of Dr. Foley’s project. 

He doesn’t hear much from it, nor from Dr. Foley, but things start to come down the rumor grapevine that the two guests were more than they seemed. Red Robin was the first to comment on it to him, and as practical and efficient Tim could be, there was a look of chaos in his smile as he discussed the two additional PhDs. He was stingy on details and that always meant something bad for Bruce’s mental health. A few others asked a few questions as to who exactly the pair were visiting, and Cyborg commented that they weren’t really doing too much to assist Dr. Foley. 

Batman decides to intervene and meet these two for himself when he hears Constantine complain (not that the man wasn’t always complaining about something) about the two new magic users being way too OP for normal humans. 

This is how the JL gets to become allied with Ghost King Phantom and Thorn (not Poison Ivy pt.2 as Robin insisted). Turns out they weren’t sure if the JL could be trusted with interdimensional politics, so Tucker spent the last two years gaining their trust to let Danny and Sam up here to ‘check the place out’ before they committed to becoming members. 

Batman doesn’t even get to raise alarms at the espionage of it all because Red Robin has already programed their new badges and welcomed them on with open arms and a project to take down the LOA’s Lazarus Pits “safely”.

[ranvwoop]

i need to expel the silly guys in my brain . but i forgot how to draw and writing is hard... much to think about

[sunboki]

— TEASER

You and Han Jisung are the ultimate best friends. While he’s busy nerding away, you’re filling him in on the latest and greatest drama. That’s until he brings up crushes. And I mean, what’re you supposed to say when he asks you that? It’s not like Jisung’s your crush… right?

📓 » Han Jisung x f. reader

GENRE┊non idol au, friends to lovers, (kinda) enemies to lovers, two idiots being oblivious, fake relationship au, highschool au, angst, fluff, slowburn

WORD COUNT┊estimated to be around 5k-6k words

WARNINGS┊profanity, lack of communication, childish pettiness, stupidity at insane levels

AUG’S NOTES┊if you don’t have a date this valentines, just know we’re both in the same boat ☹️ hopefully some hanji will help!!

THE BOYFRIEND STATUS TAGLIST — OPEN

The first night of your downfall all started in mid-January.

All was well and had been going well, until it wasn’t.

You’ve known Han Jisung since second grade, starting with having to apologize for knocking over his castle and him proceeding to cry even louder in the sandbox, snotty in his red and white striped shirt.

You swear that shirt is still in his closet.

And when he was wimping away in a corner, you were the one that got him out of his shell. To this day you’re convinced you’re the first person to ever witness the true Han Jisung, who starts slapping things when he laughs really hard, who gets overly competitive during board games, who keeps hundreds of mind-blowing tracks he’s produced to himself, and who (you wouldn’t admit it) has one of the prettiest smiles in the world.

Freshman year of high school you met Jisung again in your Geography class.

Initially, it took you a moment to recognize his face, having changed quite a bit over the years. And certainly not a bad kind of change. Although, his nerdy personality was all the assurance you needed to figure out it was him, apart from that he switched to contacts, grew his hair out more, and looked, y’know, “older.”

Older as in: what happened to you? ..Why are you so attractive?

But you won’t get too far into that.

Through the years he tutored you. Jisung had a knack for studying since day one, and despite occasionally looking like he could pass as a dropout (usually the week before finals), no one else could maintain better grades than him.

So, on a night both you and Jisung were slouched over your desk, procrastinating school work by rating people at school from most to least kissable, he turns to you, face halfway illuminated by your lamp.

“Do you like anyone?” Your boba-eyed friend asks while you aimlessly scroll through your camera roll in search of the photo you’d been talking about, mumbling a quiet “of course” in response.

Jisung makes an unconvinced noise and clasps his hands together, leaning forward.

“No like, like like anybody.”

Finally escaping your ‘rating people’s kissing-capabilities’ headspace and now entering into your ‘is this the question i think it is?’ one, you wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans.

It’s a strange question, not a Jisung-question, and you find yourself growing increasingly nervous the longer he stares at you.

You’ve never even thought about it really, so why are you so sweaty? Why does your heart feel as if it may just beat out of your chest, why is your mouth so dry?

Questions.

Clearing your throat and secretly praying it didn’t give away your piling anxiety, you feign a roll of your eyes, tapping your fingernail on the cool desk.

God, why are you so nervous?

“Um, nobody, why?” You retort, ignoring the scrutinizing squint of his eyes watching you.

It’s never like this. You’re the one that teases, gets him all shy, stumbling over his words. So now you suddenly feel like Jerry and he’s Tom.

Abnormal.

“C’mon, there has to be someone you think is cute,” He whines, and before you can stop it one word smacks you upside the head.

You.

“It’s Minho!” You shout, hurried and barely audible as if trying to tune out your inner panic.

Han looks stunned.

Han as in best friend, not crush. Right.

What were you thinking?

“..Min.. Minho?” He phrases slowly, evidently surprised.

Being completely honest, you’re just as surprised as he is. Minho is attractive, sure, but never in your life did you consider him like that.

Oh how you wished you could erase all of this from ever happening.

It doesn’t make sense. Because it’s not like you’re into Jisung. Or are you?

Nope. Nuh-uh. You were just caught off guard and unprepared. Not to mention it was an unexpected question, that’s all.

Fuck.

You like Jisung. There’s no point of lying to yourself anymore. From the start of seeing him again, those “friendly” gestures weren’t friendly anymore, they were intentional, pursuing. Walking from class to class together, constantly checking your texts, meeting his eyes only to smile like fools.

“Yep. Minho. That’s the guy,” Cutting each sentence shorter than the last, you nod fervently, avoiding his gaze.

Both soaking in utterly hellish silence, the tension was likely seeping through the cracks in your door at this rate.

He really shouldn’t have ever brought this up, and you shouldn’t have said Minho. So on the bright side, at least you’re both at fault here in the grand scheme of things.

“..Alright then.” He shrugs and goes back to writing down notes, ignoring how the room feels a hundred degrees hotter and that every inch of your soul is drenched in a cold sweat, plagued with the situation you landed yourself in.

What has gotten into you?

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[hanihazeljade]

Tim Drake as a Rogue "Ursula"

Ursula is known as the sea witch who grants wishes to mers who is desperate enough to ask her to grant their wishes. Ursula is often portray as a mean and bitter octopus who hold grudge to her dearest brother.

And who is more fit to become the Ursula of Gotham City than the Mad Bat himself, Tim Drake.

(CW: Cursing, Disney Plot)

Next - Ursula 2

Tim doesn't want to come back as a vigilante. He rather be a dropped out high school that found a 9-5 job as he was subbing for Bruce as he recuperate on his travels in time.

He finished his job. He is not Robin anymore and he will never go back at being Robin, so that he could be tossed out once he was no longer needed.

He doesn't even want to be associated with the bats and it's colleagues but he can never ignore the pleads of the people of Gotham. Especially, the one who is "desperates", that people who have nobody that believes in them.

So, therefore, he weave a new persona. The one who everyone avoids until they used up all of their choices. The one that is supposed to be left alone, or else you are risking yourself to the cruel contracts.

He became Ursula of Gotham. With his already pale skin, he can easily stain his skin with a sheen shade of blue and he acquired a white human hair wig that he tied in an elaborate ponytail. And of course, you cannot forgot the blood red lips. And knowing some ancient curses is handy and one of the advantages he had for having archaeologists.

Tim is having fun being Ursula. Seeing the vulnerable souls come to him and he gave them adequate contracts while those who tried to manipulate him, let's just say that they got what is equivalent of turning into a sea foam.

Ursula, the wicked witch— what the others dubbed him, has a permanent residence in the Tricorner Island. Many will tell him that he is being an idiot as it was the island that also residence the Gotham City Police Department, but you know what they said, the most dangerous place is where the safety exactly is .

As months pass by, he was establishing himself as the largest shareholder of Wayne Enterprise and putting the fear of him among the WE board. It was a hard feat as some old fossils tried to question his credibility but he quickly shut those down. He understand them as he was just nothing but a dropout highschool student and was employed through nepotism. But with his knowledge on how to fuck with Lex Luthor payed off as he can very much see the fear on those old cunts every time he bring up their bullshit plans for the Wayne Enterprise.

And also in the works of establishing the wicked witch of Tricorner Island, but even with the GCPD in his tail, he was doing nothing illegal, except for some murders here and there — not like the bats will care, he is a rogue not a vigilante, he was now one of the established not to fucked with together with Black Mask, Maroni and Falcone.

Of course he is not going unnoticed by the big bad bat himself. He was doing his own deals when suddenly his door got blown up by the Batman the Second and Robin with swords. He was in the middle of keeping the poor lady on signing her contract.

"I am sorry, young Aisha. It seems like the big old bat has something to say to me, come back tomorrow." Tim, or rather Ursula, said as his piercing blue eyes gazed to the pair. He can see the Batman shivered a little bit in his glare.

As the young lady, was now out of the premises, he looks at the pair with degrading look like how Ursula looks at everyone else.

"Well, pray tell, big bat and brat, how could this poor thing could help you." he rolled his eyes.

"What is your deal?"

Ursula gasped, "I am just trying to help some poor unfortunate souls. I am doing a great charity, I believe."

"Cut the flowery words, Ursula. We don't believe in every single words you've said."

"Well, have I done anything wrong? I am just helping."

"Helping but most of your clients disappear, like a sea foam."

Ursula chuckled, "Now, you are coining a little bit too much to Disney. I am nothing but a human, not even a meta."

"Then how— Robin!" Batman was supposed to further the interrogation but the Robin beside him suddenly shank Ursula, clearly his patience run out.

Ursula grabbed the nearest thing and coincidentally, it was a broom. But still, a wooden broom has nothing compare to the steel swords of the brat. So Ursula, did as any regular people would do and grabbed the kid's hood and spray him with pepper spray that he grabbed somewhere.

He released the kid after knowing that brat inhale too much as he start to coughed so bad. He sighed heavily, "This is why Gotham has so much desperate souls, the knight that was supposed to be protecting us was accompanied by a violent demon. The previous one was more tolerable than any of you." he said and aimed the pepper spray towards Batman, "Leave."

"We are not done, Ursula." Batman said as he carried the coughing Robin out of his residence.

Ursula smirked, "It seems like Batman doesn't recognise who Ursula is."

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Hi :) I was wondering if you could do Poly Dallas and sodapop hcs? with a reader if you're comfortable with it, of course. I think it would be a funny dynamic

This was written in my anatomy class (can you tell that I don’t pay attention in anatomy?) so I’m gonna give @a-person-who-didn’t-want-to-be-here a big huge thank you for helping me out <4

Anyway!

There’s a really complicated getting together story here? I just haven’t figured it out quite yet, so I’m gonna leave that to you guys to think up cause there’s a few ideas swirling around my head, I just haven’t nailed anything down because I’m really not in love with any of my thoughts

But you’ve got the best of both worlds going on for you! A nice golden retriever boyfriend and a boyfriend who’s more of a german shepherd/rottweiler/doberman type-

Life is good!

Both of these boys run warm and they can both be very very handsy, made worse by the fact that they are both very very much in love with you

Jealousy is sort of wonky here? Cause Dally’s very loudly jealous, but Sodapop’s jealousy comes off as him acting more closed-off and withdrawn, he just kinda pulls away when you hang too much with Dallas

Also, before we get any further along, Sandy and Sylvia don’t exist here because I’m in charge and I make the rules :)

Parties! You’re always being dragged out to parties, whether it’s a drag race and you’re on Sodapop’s arm, or a late night party at Buck’s bar where Dally keeps you tucked to his side all night long

You’ve got the whole freaking gang honestly, the whole crew wrapped around your finger-

Dating Dally gets you Johnny in an instant, dating Sodapop gets you Pony, Dare, and Steve- the only one left is Two-Bit but ya know, he’s a good enough guy, he’s probably on your side in all this anyhow-

You’re at the DX a lot, just hanging around the pumps and the garage and the register while Soda’s at work (you definitely skip school to go see him, Dally picks you up and you guys waste the day over at the gas station)

Sodapop sneaking out to meet you and Dally down at Buck’s because there’s a party tonight and honestly he doesn’t care if Darry kills him for being at the Merrill’s establishment, he hasn’t seen you all week long-

Of course of course, you’re wearing Dally’s ring and when you and Sodapop are holding hands, he likes to twist it around your finger and fiddle with it

Dally asks him what he’s doing, asks if Sodapop’s trying to take it off as if he’s got some sort of problem with you wearing somebody else’s ring but Soda just kinda shrugs and says he likes fooling with it

Baby boy’s got no problem other than ADHD and he likes to mess with things 🤷

Patching them up after a rumble is such an obnoxious task- Dally’s whining about broken ribs and how he can barely breath and Soda’s slouched on the floor, holding an ice pack to his face and asking if you’ll still love him if he’s got a black eye

Suggestion? Try and keep them close together in this situation ^^ make them sit near each other, because they both want attention and if you’ve got to run back and forth across the living room every two seconds, no one’s going to be happy-

You spend a lot of time sitting in Dallas’ lap and you spend a lot of time holding Soda’s hand, sometimes these happen at the same time-

Imma say it, you’re not sharing a bed with both of them unless you’re hurt or sick because both of these boys are like portable space heaters and no matter how cold you may be, these human furnaces will make you feel like you’re being slowly cooked because they sandwich you between them

PET NAMES PET NAMES PET NAMES

Doll, baby, honey, sugar, sweetheart, babe….

Just…you’re gonna forget you actually have a name because they never call you by your actual name-

You’re dating two highschool dropouts, how do you feel about that?

Joking, joking, I know you feel wonderful, as you should, because you’re going with two great guys!!

There’s like?

A betting pool going around?

Because no one can figure out who you’re going out with (other than the gang of course)

And Sodapop and Dallas do nothing to help you out- they purposefully make it even worse-

You go to a party with Sodapop, hanging off his arm, and at the end of the night, you’re going home with Dally, spending your night in his room at Buck’s

You’re sitting on the DX counter (you don’t even work there but you have free reign of the place, let’s be real) and you’ve got Dally’s medal around your neck, Dal himself is off in reform and you and Sodapop are planning a date <3

One night, you get caught kissing Dallas, tongues down each others’ throats and all that jazz, and the next thing everyone else knows, you’re walking with Sodapop and he’s got a hand in your pocket

Everyone is town is anxiously awaiting the day that the boys figure out you’re two-timing them because surely, Dallas Winston isn’t going to stand for you messing around on him

But ya know, nothing ever happens, even when people try and get Sodapop and Dallas to see what’s going-

With Soda, they’ll point out Dally and you sitting at a diner booth together, asking him what’s going on, cause weren’t you guys going steady?

And Dal, they’ll ask him where you are when you’re not at Buck’s, mentioning casually that you’ve been hanging out around the DX an awful lot-

With Male!Readers?

You guys are labeled just as good friends all the time and it makes it a lot easier to lie about why you guys are together all the time (curse you time-period realistic homophobia *shakes my fist at the sky*)

I would loveeeeee to do a male!reader piece for this topic, just saying guys-

This….really got away from me-

Sorry for making this so long guys-

[dumb-teambucciarati-headcanons]

Education headcanons:

Although some of these are canon

Giorno: is still in highschool, but stopped showing up for class when he joined passione. He still makes a point to always be learning, but only focuses on subjects he is interested in. He knows lots of information about the biological world, but has no idea what certain historical figures have done, unless they were particularly interesting to him. Also he sucks at spelling words correctly. In elementary school he wrote a research report on different types of bugs and accidentally released a bunch of bugs into the school and that apparently bothered some of the teachers and other students.

Bruno: he has like half of a middle school education, and his grades were never super high because he would spend time helping his dad with work instead of completing his homework. Up until his parents divorce, then his dad wanted him to focus more on school. But that stopped after his dads incident, and he started providing for him and his dad and protecting him. He asked Fugo to teach him some math, and Fugo reluctantly agreed. But Fugo will go out of his way to try to avoid having to tutor the man because Bruno has a rough time understanding simple concepts and it makes Fugo want to resort to violence. But Fugo respects Bruno and doesn’t want to snap at him because he knows he isn’t trying to piss him off, Bruno’s just dumb as fuck sometimes.

Abbacchio: has a highschool education and went to the police academy. He also has a few basic college courses under his belt. He had a “have to learn in order to get the job I want” mentality towards school, opposed to being super interested in it. He failed PE in middle school and was bullied for it so badly that he started working out everyday so that would never happen again. Also I kinda think he has a photographic memory, which his stand reflects well. He went to a Catholic highschool and his parents were upset that he hadn’t met a nice catholic girl by the time he graduated highschool.

Mista: has a highschool education and wasn’t really interested in getting any degrees, kinda just wanted to fuck around in his young adult years. Math made him cry, and not because he didn’t understand it, he was actually good at math. But the number 4 would haunt his papers. Asked a lot of questions during class. were they ever relevant? No. Did he ask them? Yes. “Hey teach, so gravity. Like what if instead of the earth having a gravitational pull some rando named, uh, Seth did. But ONLY Seth, and everyone was constantly being pulled towards Seth and if you jumped you’d land back on Seth. How would we survive as a species if that were the case?”

Narancia: elementary school dropout. Gets distracted super easily. Would rather do anything but school, however he is very sensitive about having not even finished elementary school. He will pep talk himself into wanting to learn math and things, and then he will start again and will remember why he hates school. But it’s worse when he actually goes to school and sees eight year olds that understand things better than him. opposed to Fugo tutoring him and only having to feel stupid in front of the smartest person he has ever met, like everyone else feels stupid around Fugo too so.

Fugo: you know, the gifted child that went to university super early. Smartest one in the group. He was the kid that would use his pencils entirely until they were sharpened into tiny little things you could barely hold. Also he bites his pens and pencils. He thinks the pencils are more flavorful. Oh and erasers, those tasted good too. The other kids never wanted to play with him because of his short temper, but that didn’t matter because his parents told him that only stupid kids use recess time to play. Classrooms were super overstimulating for him, with that stupid LED lighting that made him feel like he needed to blink his eyes a hundred times. And then doing that would make him feel dizzy and irritable. Like the lights were the worst amount of bright and the worst shade of the color white, and if one of the bulbs flickered he would feel like throwing up. His parents thought he had been drinking once after being in a classroom for too long, but no it was the lights.

Trish: she isn’t stupid, but she was definitely the type to get others to do her homework for her. Is in the middle of highschool. she would spend all of study hour planning elaborate schemes to skip class with her and her friends. Wanted to go to college but wasn’t sure how she was going to pay for it, her new plan involves passione money. That or she is going to become famous, if Bruno and co. would actually let her live instead of saying things like “it’s too dangerous with other mafia members knowing your name”.

[mickittotheman]

Hello! Can I ask for gallavich + 47? Thank you :)

Hi!! I too am fueled by spite so this was a very fun prompt to fill.

47. ...out of spite

Mickey only hears the conversation by accident.

It’s early. Way too fucking early to be awake, but he’d reached up to grab at Ian’s big warm arm and his fingers had met nothing but cold empty sheets and the jolt of panic he’d felt had been enough to have him stumbling up and out and down the hall.

The panic is receding a bit now, with Ian’s voice floating up the stairs. There’s other noises, too. The coffee maker burbling, dishes clinking, the fridge rattling as it’s opened and closed, but all Mickey is focused on is ian ian ian.

The panic ebbs out to a low grade hum. It never goes away completely. Probably never will.

Mickey sighs, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand, the other one still clutching the stair railing so hard his knuckles are white. 

Slowly, the actual words Ian’s saying start to filter through. 

“–is that supposed to mean? Of course he’s good for me. He’s the only reason I came back in the first place!”

There’s the sound of someone slurping obnoxiously. Probably Lip drinking his fucking coffee. He always slurps when he drinks coffee. “He’s also the reason you left, so.”

“Fuck off, Lip.”

“Seriously?” Fiona scoffs, faucet squeaking as she shuts off the water, “That’s why you disappeared out of the fucking blue?”

Oh. 

Mickey twists his lips. Debates just turning around and going back to sleep. It’s too fucking early for this shit. 

“I left for a lot of reasons, okay?”

“Ian. Sweetcheeks. I’m just worried about you. We’re all worried about you–”

“Well, maybe everyone should be more worried about you.”

“Ian!”

“He’s got a point.”

“Who’s fucking side are you on, Lip?”

“I’m not on anyone’s side. Jesus.” Another obnoxious slurp. “And keep your fucking voices down, you’re gonna wake up the kids.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Ian snarks, “Liam hasn’t been sleeping very well. Wonder why that is.”

“Ian. Please. I just want what’s best for you.”

“Mickey is what’s best for me.”

“Seriously?” Fiona laughs, and Mickey would probably be more offended if he hadn’t nearly blurted out the same thing.

He swipes at his nose. Shoots a longing glance down the hall behind him, towards his little makeshift nest on the floor made of blankets and pillows that smell like Ian. Shoots a longing glance down the stairs in front of him, towards Ian. He sighs again. Sits on the top step. Tunes back into Fiona’s tirade.

“He’s a thug–”

“–you just got out of jail.”

“He’s a highschool drop-out–”

“–we’re all highschool dropouts.”

“He’s a Milkovich–”

“–oh, because being a Gallagher is so much better?”

“He can barely even stand to touch you–”

“–trust me, he touches me plenty.”

“In private,” Fiona presses, pitching her voice louder over the sound of Lip snorting and nearly choking to death on his coffee. “The moment you guys are around other people he acts like you’re radioactive fucking waste.”

“Jesus, Fi, can you blame him for not wanting people to find out–?”

“But we already know! He knows that we know. And he knows damn well that Gallaghers don’t snitch.”

Mickey gnaws on his lower lip, eagerly awaiting Ian’s snarky comeback. 

It never comes.

“Ian, sweetie,” Fiona says, voice soft again, “I’m just worried you’re getting too attached.”

Say something.

“I’m– Ian, I’m sorry, but I think you're reading signs you hope are there, instead of the signs that actually are there.”

C’mon, Ian, fucking say something.

“I just… don’t think he’s as into you as you're into him.”

Ian finally says something. 

“Yeah,” he says. 

Mickey blinks. His mouth drops open. His brows scrunch together.

“I really am sorry, sweetheart–”

“No, it’s.” There’s the sound of Ian taking in a shuddery breath, followed by a deep sigh. “You might be right.”

Jesus fucking christ. 

Mickey hauls himself up. Stomps down the stairs. Hears Lip mutter ‘oh shit’ before he’s even in view.

By the time Mickey reaches the base of the stairs they’re all looking at him with wide eyes. Lip sitting at the table, Fiona standing by the sink, Ian leaning against the fridge.

“Mickey!” Ian says, voice painfully faux-cheery, “I– um, good morning, when did you wake u–”

“Shut up,” Mikey bites out. He plants himself right in front of Ian. Jabs a finger hard against his chest. “You must be the stupidest goddamn fucker on the planet.”

Ian’s strained smile drops. 

“Hey!” Fiona protests, but Mickey ignores her.

He forcefully reminds himself of what happened the last time he was too much of a fucking coward. Swallows down the nerves dread don’t bubbling up his throat and fizzing through his veins. 

His hands are shaking, just a bit. 

He brings them up, uses one to shove Ian back against the fridge and the other to fist in Ian’s hair, yanks down his head enough so Mickey doesn’t have to go up on his fucking tippytoes like some bitch.

Ian makes this surprised little sound when their lips collide. Which actually works out great, because it gives Mickey the opportunity to shove his tongue into his mouth. 

Mickey can feel the tension seeping out of Ian. That shocked little noise morphs into a deep groan. Ian’s big hands clamp down on Mickey’s hips hard enough to bruise.

“Woah, okay, that is way more than I need to see,” Lip announces, punctuated by the sound of his chair scraping harshly against the floor. “I’m gonna go ahead and finish my coffee somewhere else. Preferably somewhere very far away.”

Mickey grins into the kiss. Relishes in momentary victory. Two down, one to go. 

He pulls back, their lips making a positively indecent sound as they part. Mickey huffs when Ian tries to trail after him. Uses the grip on his hair to keep him at bay.

Mickey turns his head just enough to cock a pointed brow at Fiona. “That enough touching for you? Or should I go all out and bend over the kitchen table for him?”

Ian makes a strangled sound. His hands spasm on Mickey’s hips. He yanks Mickey closer, so Mickey can better appreciate the way he’s grown hard as a rock, the way his dick is pressing perfectly up against Mickey’s own.

Fiona rolls her eyes and throws her hands up in the air in defeat. “Okay, alright, you’ve made your point.” She brushes past them. Pauses just before disappearing up the stairs to look back at them with a solemn, serious expression. Locks eyes with Mickey. “I really, genuinely hope I’m wrong about you.”

Mickey swallows hard. Stares after her as she retreats. 

He hopes so, too.

His grip on Ian tightens, then loosens. Ian seizes the opportunity to surge forward and latch onto Mickey’s neck like a fucking leech. 

“Jesus, firecrotch,” Mickey hisses.

Ian hums. Smears a smile against Mickey’s skin. Nips at Mickey’s ear. “So…” he hedges, grinding their hips together again, “How serous were you about letting me fuck you on the kitchen table?”

Fuck.

Maybe Mickey is a bad influence on Ian afterall. 

send me a number~

[amiiancasselmanyet]

Fix Me is a Mid 2000's Classic, You're Just Not From Canada

before I start this essay series, I would like to clarify that this is NOT a series of reviews but just me genuinely expressing my feelings I have towards the albums in question because I’m a highschool dropout…bon appetite or whatever

also tw for eating disorders, self harm, general mental illness and addiction but this is fix me, you probably knew that

When most people think about early to mid 2000s rock albums that became staples and bands that became household names, there's a few that genuinely come to mind. Let’s get the “emo trinity” out of the way; From Under The Cork Tree was Fall Out Boys sophomore album from 2005 that is still widely loved for good reason. The songs are good and the lyrics hit when you least expect it. Every. Single. Time. Then, of course, we have The Black Parade. I cannot express my love of this album enough, it is quite literally my all time favorite and while Three Cheers has a more solid concept (man kills other men to try and get his lover back, homosexual antics ensues), there's a reason it’s arguably their most well known and beloved by the kids who used to bully you in middle school. Of course we have A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out coming in right after this, there’s not much I can say since this album truly deserves it’s own essay that I won't manage to write (Ryan Ross please come back the kids and I miss you) but, like the other albums, it's a STAPLE at Emo Nites and Emo Nite knockoffs (shout out to Sneaky Dees in Toronto). There is, however, an album among them that's a hidden gem due to the fact that . Fix Me was the debut studio album from Marianas Trench, arriving in 2006. This album stands out from the others in a lot of ways, its sound, its vulnerability and its general lack of a concept. This album was a shot in the dark and a testament to taking chances. Let's talk about it. 

If you’re even a little bit familiar with Marianas Trench (you definitely are because you are on a blog dedicated to the drummer, my beloved bias Ian Casselman), the sound you’re used to most likely isn’t here. This album is gritty, it’s production is grungy. When you look at the other albums at face value, it stands out as nothing like the rest. If you dig deeper, however, you realize that this album truly was the foundation of what was to come. The guitar heavy sound continues throughout the discography, even if it feels less clean than its successors. It adds to the aggression a lot of the songs have, it makes the lyrics hit harder. It was too rock for the pop charts but too pop for the rock charts.(I’m pretty sure Josh said that but this thing isn’t getting a bibliography, this is a more sophisticated shit post on a blog that, again, focuses on the silly drummer with mutton chops) While the sound is incredible, the true core of the album lies in its vulnerability.

Fix Me is essentially an auditory diary, with each track feeling like a new entry. There are themes focusing on the actual struggles Josh Ramsay dealt with at the time. There’s a lot about addiction (specifically heroin), self harm, eating disorders (specifically bulimia) and general depression. It's angsty. It's difficult  to hear at times. You're not supposed to get personal during essays but this is literally on a blog where I refer to the followers as “casselman nation”, it’s a lawless land and fuck you I’ll do what I want. This album, at its core, felt like it was almost a diary entry from a younger me. 

14 year old me was very different from the current me, I had a different name entirely, a different outlook on life and a lot of things that shaped me today had not happened yet. I was unmedicated and everyone else's problem. If you ever scroll down on the personal tag of my main (you WILL NOT, you DO NOT need to see my digital footprint and angst), you'll notice that there's a lot of themes on this album that pertained to me at that time. I was VERY depressed, undiagnosed bipolar 2, bulimic and…doing things in school bathrooms I shouldn't have with items from my art class I shouldn't have had access to in that state (not going to elaborate, I’m sure you get where I’m going). When you deal with those things head on, you tend to, from experience, seek out public figures, whether it be musicians or celebrities or youtubers (shout out to Dan and Phil lmao) who have similar experiences that you had. For me, a big one from the get go was Marianas Trench. There’s something oddly comforting in not only knowing you’re not only alone but that you’re ALSO going to survive. I truly wish I was able to hug 14 year old me but I also know that they’d be proud that I DIDN’T do the thing I wanted to do before I turned 17.

There’s another reason Fix Me is truly removed from other albums and it truly feels like the biggest component; there's no concept. Fix Me has its own identity but it's not through a story or through successful singles, it's through the fact that it has none of it. It shines through its simplicity, its impact is through the way it can stand alone. It’s an album by the band that could be, and should be at times, put on shuffle. It’s an album where you can pick any song, off the top of your head, and listen to it when you’re feeling angry or sad or full of unbridled angst. Sure, you CAN listen to other songs on other albums one at a time, Masterpiece Theatre is the first on I can think of off the top of my head, however, would you want to? Would you want to listen to The End of An Era and have it followed up with a song like This Means War? It 100% kills the immersive nature that the band has carefully crafted over the last 20 years. (yes they’ve been a band that long considering the fix me bsides are from 2001, yes it makes me feel geriatric) I think the biggest reason that it personally hits every mark imaginable for a grungy punk record is the fact that there is no secret meaning hidden in each song, its open and honest from the get go. It’s raw, real and does exactly what it needs to do.

Through its sound, its ability to be honest and vulnerable in its writing and the easily accessible material, it's a staple. Shake Tramp belongs in an Emo Nite just as much as something like Sugar We’re Going Down and more than Welcome to the Black Parade (I love that song but it doesn’t fit the vibe as well as House of Wolves or The Sharpest Lives, Emo Nite is just catering to the normies and preps). Decided to Break Its video should be as beloved as I Write Sins Not Tragedies. Marianas Trench deserve their flowers for being such a staple in the lives of canadian teens who are struggling, the adults who want to comfort their inner teen selves and those who, in general, are feeling small.

[rudeflower]

I do think another interesting aspect of Jess's relationship with school is that, by Season 3 anyway, he didn't actually WANT to be "a highschool dropout," and I think that plays into his doing what he thought was the bare minimum (and not even less). If we look at how upset he was about flunking out (that frantic "I'm not graduating HIGHSCHOOL!" he yells at Jimmy, for example) and the way he seemed to THINK he was keeping track of his absences ("I didn't miss THAT much..."), I get the distinct impression that he was trying to play the system. Whether it was that he cared about what Rory thought of him, or knew that Luke would kick him out, or for his own sense of self-worth, he did seem to care enough to want to graduate. He just couldn't pull off the con the way he thought he could.

YES!!!

He's always pulled it off before! Why is this time different?

Jess is 17 when he starts his senior year, he has been promoted every single grade every single year. I don't know enough about the NYC public school system in the 90's to suggest they had a pattern of promoting students they shouldn't to the next grade...so let's say the fictional NYC public school system in GG canon does!

Jess canonically didn't go to school for chunks of time in New York. He got pretty seriously threatened with being held back junior year and he WASN'T. In Teach Me Tonight Jess didn't seem at all concerned that he'd be held back and was amused by Luke and Rory's concern. Because Jess knew this is the time of year there's a huge thing about him getting held back! But he's never ever been held back

So of COURSE he's graduating.

[fumiku]

Kabrinmickuro Tinder AU

Imagine Mickbell with a tinder profile.

The AU has a Mickrin focus but there are kabrinmick and kurokabu shenanigans happening on the side so this is the schedule this is the situation buckle up, have the tangled mess that is their quartet

Ok so. Tinder AU. His tinder profile is terrible ofc and she only swipes right because they’re ex coworkers and she’d have felt bad + obligation + some pity and concern + morbid curiosity + vindication about kabru and freedom probably. So they chat and meet up but the flirting gets stamped down pretty quickly and instead they become buddies where they meet up to vent and talk.

The thing is, this is set in a modern au right, and it’s set the same year when Kabru and Rin go their own ways. College has ended and they’re going to univeristy, and Kabru picked a great medicine university… That’s on the other side of the country. He didn’t talk to her about it or ask for her thoughts at all, and Rin had assumed they’d be going to the good one in the same city they moved to attend the local college for. And she could follow him and get into the same one, but she doesn’t. Her personal arc of growing beyond Kabru and not uprooting her life and centering it around him has started and she’s like, oh, ok, fine whatever then. Kabru pretty much expected her to follow him when he told her about it even if the notion kinda annoyed him because he easily feels stifled, but he feels conflicted when instead she just goes congrats & good luck and lets him go.

MEANWHILE!! Kuro is also going away to university. Mickbell and Kuro are roommies ofc, and Mick’s a highschool dropout or just finished highschool or some such, doing jobs here and there. (Rin and him probably worked together in retail or such at one point. Rin maybe remembers Kuro as that really quiet coworker, but also it’s fun if she doesn’t know him yet too…) Kuro had followed Mickbell’s lead thus far (idk how i can make this line up with him possibly attending Kabru’s school though hmmm. Maybe kuro just never stopped education even when Mick did, just working a lot too when not in class. Maybe it’s a special university social program and that’s why Kuro gets a tutor?) but he’s been feeling a want for more. So of course Mickbell is PISSED and refuses when Kuro brings up he wants to move into an university dorm for the next semester, but unlike in canon here he’s able to just, leave. So he puts his foot down and is like, no Mick I need to experience the world for myself, I am seeking higher education!!!! Wether you approve or not!! Though he’s still gentle after with him once it sinks in for Mickbell that Kuro’s not changing his mind.

Guy who couldn’t follow his most important person to university because he doesn’t have the brains the grades or the means and girl who could follow hers but chose to let go because it was destroying her and she’s tired……..

Gbdvcjdh making a horrendous tinder profile was Mick’s way of going through the kuro breakup aftermath… Sobbing in his bed mascara running down his red cheeks as he writes "no pain no gain and baby I’ve lost consciousness from injuries several times in my life and I’m still broke rn so it’ll catch on soon and I’ll be rich just you wait everyone will be sorry for having left actually" Hitting people up in dms like a man possessed being way too agressively flirty and coming on thick bc he’s awfully coping. Rin swiping on the awful profile of her ex-coworker out of pity and morbid curiosity He posts pics of his "dates" with Rin on his socials to try and fail to make Kuro jealous (Kuro worries if anything) Mick handling the separation way worse than Rin she’s just kinda sad and melancholic and feels aimless sometimes but he’s mourninggg breaking downnn singing conceal don’t feel at 2 am

Kabru and Kuro take flights back to this city sometimes to visit~ Bc it’s like co-brainstormed with Toby this is kabrinmick and many many shoujo comedy love triangle shenanigans happens there with that but in my heart……… Kabru and Kuro having an university romance. Bromance at the very least… Maybe Kabru is Kuro’s tutor What would Kuro study… Economics… Linguistics… Psychology…. Some specific work program like idk eletric engineering……. Yeah this is the non-mickrin I was working towards. Gbdgdgd sorry, yay university romance kabukuro have all this context for the mickrin

To quote myself: In the end they become a 4 person household and everyone is uncomfortable /hj Wait in this au Kuro and Mick could actually possibly end up living apart woah what a concept

Co-brainstormed with @cranechel back in like july, more details from when we were developing it for more kabrin and nuggets of comedy gdbdg

I want the romcom sitcom bs for this AU but also in the angst route it’s 2 heartbroken people who lost their respective codependent relationship and smoking weed together in a dump after having cried a lot (their ‘dates’ lmao. Yes mick your hot date game is great. I bet he posts pics of them on his social hoping kuro sees and seethes and runs back to him) teasing that edge of having a codependent relationship themselves (cue Mick following Rin to the airport lmao)

I always have my hands in mickrin aus and timelines and this or that and lately kabrinmick also and it’s fun to me to think about kabukuro on the side there. In my vague mind relationships chart mickrin is happening kicking and screaming and then off to the side there are just Kabru and Kuro, chilling. Lmao

[ardentguilt]

((For real though ‘traditional’ schooling is torturous hell and I wish I’d dropped out from that sooner.

I will however say that if possible you definitely SHOULD at least complete the 12 years just not necessarily in a traditional school setting.

When it comes to seeking employment someone who’s completed the 12 years of school is gonna look better to an employer than a highschool dropout.

For me I couldn’t handle traditional school and without sugarcoating it if I’d stayed it LITERALLY would have killed me. My grades were shit too.

So I dropped out in 10th grade but for the past year I’d medically only been able to do half days anyway.

Instead of saying that’s it entirely I sighned on for distance education for my last 2 years of school (11 and 12)

This was different to homeschooling because you do it through an actual school who mails you the required class work and you just complete it on your own schedule from home then mail it back. The teachers mark it and send it back to you and on occassion they’ll even come for home visits to see how you’re going in person.

For me as someone with autism, anxiety, depression and ptsd amongst other things that made a regular school non ideal for me this situation proved to be the best thing I could have done. My grades improved significantly and my mental and physical health also improved greatly.

I finished my 12 years of schooling with good marks and while yes I still can’t go into a traditional classroom environment because of trauma issues I do have those higher qualifications and with more and more post-school courses being made available entirely online I’m able to continue my learning to gain qualifications toward my desired field of work.

So to anyone who’s struggling in a traditional school environment whether it be for physical health, mental health or just rampant bullying (or a combination of these) if you’re able to definitely give distance education a go.))

[sunboki]

You and Han Jisung are the ultimate best friends. While he’s busy nerding away, you’re filling him in on the latest and greatest drama. That’s until he brings up crushes. And I mean, what’re you supposed to say when he asks you that? It’s not like Jisung’s your crush… right?

📓 » Han Jisung x f. reader

GENRE┊non idol au, friends to lovers, (kinda) enemies to lovers, two idiots being oblivious, fake relationship au, highschool au, angst, fluff, slowburn

WORD COUNT┊5.1k words

PLAYLIST

WARNINGS┊profanity, lack of communication, childish pettiness, stupidity at insane levels

AUG’S NOTES┊valentine’s day with ji :(( take this as my tribute to hurting my own feelings with this fic 😭

THE BOYFRIEND STATUS TAGLIST — CLOSED

The first night of your downfall all started in mid-January.

All was well and had been going well, until it wasn’t.

.

.

.

You’ve known Han Jisung since second grade, starting with having to apologize for knocking over his castle and him proceeding to cry even louder in the sandbox, snotty in his red and white striped shirt.

You swear that shirt is still in his closet.

And when he was wimping away in a corner, you were the one that got him out of his shell. To this day you’re convinced you’re the first person to ever witness the true Han Jisung, who starts slapping things when he laughs really hard, who gets overly competitive during board games, who keeps hundreds of mind-blowing tracks he’s produced to himself, and who (you wouldn’t admit it) has one of the prettiest smiles in the world.

Freshman year of high school you met Jisung again in your Geography class.

Initially, it took you a moment to recognize his face, having changed quite a bit over the years. And certainly not a bad kind of change. Although, his nerdy personality was all the assurance you needed to figure out it was him, apart from that he switched to contacts, grew his hair out more, and looked, y’know, “older.”

Older as in: what happened to you? ..Why are you so attractive?

But you won’t get too far into that.

Through the years he tutored you. Jisung had a knack for studying since day one, and despite occasionally looking like he could pass as a dropout (usually the week before finals), no one else could maintain better grades than him.

So, on a night both you and Jisung were slouched over your desk, procrastinating school work by rating people at school from most to least kissable, he turns to you, face halfway illuminated by your lamp.

“Do you like anyone?” Your boba-eyed friend asks while you aimlessly scroll through your camera roll in search of the photo you’d been talking about, mumbling a quiet “of course” in response.

Jisung makes an unconvinced noise and clasps his hands together, leaning forward.

“No like, like like anybody.”

Finally escaping your ‘rating people’s kissing-capabilities’ headspace and now entering into your ‘is this the question i think it is?’ one, you wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans.

It’s a strange question, not a Jisung-question, and you find yourself growing increasingly nervous the longer he stares at you.

You’ve never even thought about it really, so why are you so sweaty? Why does your heart feel as if it may just beat out of your chest, why is your mouth so dry?

Questions.

Clearing your throat and secretly praying it didn’t give away your piling anxiety, you feign a roll of your eyes, tapping your fingernail on the cool desk.

God, why are you so nervous?

“Um, nobody, why?” You retort, ignoring the scrutinizing squint of his eyes watching you.

It’s never like this. You’re the one that teases, gets him all shy, stumbling over his words. So now you suddenly feel like Jerry and he’s Tom.

Abnormal.

“C’mon, there has to be someone you think is cute,” He whines, and before you can stop it one word smacks you upside the head.

You.

“It’s Minho!” You shout, hurried and barely audible as if trying to tune out your inner panic.

Han looks stunned.

Han as in best friend, not crush. Right.

What were you thinking?

“..Min.. Minho?” He phrases slowly, evidently surprised.

Being completely honest, you’re just as surprised as he is. Minho is attractive, sure, but never in your life did you consider him like that.

Oh how you wished you could erase all of this from ever happening.

It doesn’t make sense. Because it’s not like you’re into Jisung. Or are you?

Nope. Nuh-uh. You were just caught off guard and unprepared. Not to mention it was an unexpected question, that’s all.

Fuck.

You like Jisung. There’s no point of lying to yourself anymore. From the start of seeing him again, those “friendly” gestures weren’t friendly anymore, they were intentional, pursuing. Walking from class to class together, constantly checking your texts, meeting his eyes only to smile like fools.

“Yep. Minho. That’s the guy,” Cutting each sentence shorter than the last, you nod fervently, avoiding his gaze.

Both soaking in utterly hellish silence, the tension was likely seeping through the cracks in your door at this rate.

He really shouldn’t have ever brought this up, and you shouldn’t have said Minho. So on the bright side, at least you’re both at fault here in the grand scheme of things.

“..Alright then.” He shrugs and goes back to writing down notes, ignoring how the room feels a hundred degrees hotter and that every inch of your soul is drenched in a cold sweat, plagued with the situation you landed yourself in.

What has gotten into you?

Why Minho was the first name you said couldn’t be explained, and, with your amazing fortune, Minho happened to be Jisung’s friend in their shared engineering program.

Any name. You could’ve said any name.

Great.

“Psst!” You hiss, lingering behind the door, waiting for your victim to finally finish his day-long conversation with Mr. Hong.

Said victim (a.k.a Minho) delivering a venomous glare from the corner of his eye, you gesture for him to come nearer (much to his obvious dislike) once the coast had cleared. Thankfully, the classroom was a distance from Jisung’s, providing ample time to strike your plan before they joined sixth period together.

A plan that had been devised throughout the many hours you spent sleeplessly investigating your ceiling last night.

“I need your help.”

Wait for it. Here comes the questions.

“Is this about Jisung?”

Before you can open your mouth, he cuts you off.

“You got in trouble again, didn’t you?”

You sigh.

“I-“

“Are you pregnant?”

“SHUT— up.” Grabbing a strong hold onto your one opportunity to speak, you clamber both him and yourself into the nearest seat, dreading this experience the longer Minho stares daggers into your soul.

The idea is a stretch, but if the boy in front of you cooperates, at least a few bases might get covered.

“Minho, I need your help with Jisung.”

Anticipatory eyebrows (looking freaky similar to a cat) urge you further.

“Alright, first things first,” You huff, fishing in your bag prior to sliding the notebook in front of him. His eyes widen, breathing an esteemed “wow” upon reading each line.

“Rules For Our Fake Relationship”, The title reads in messy sharpie marker. A silly, first-grade clique idea, although, if wielded correctly, could very easily quell your.. “problem” for a bit while you brainstormed the next step.

Problem being, how can I make sure, at all costs, my best friend doesn’t know I’m in love with him?

“You really thought this one through, huh.”

“I do what I have to.” Cracking your knuckles and stretching your neck, you ignore Minho’s judgemental eyeball and begin setting down some basic rules.

#1 Under no circumstances should we ever kiss.

He seems to whole-heartedly agree on that one, pretty much gagging at the thought.

#2 No one but us is allowed to know this is fake.

The rest is history, so by the time you’ve reached twenty and he adds a “No acting lovey-dovey around me” rule, you realize you might as well make this a “Rules For Worst Enemies” list instead.

But just as you hand him the pen, awaiting his signature with an eager gaze, he deflates, popping the cap back on much to your displeasure.

“Before I sign my life away to your Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, you have to promise me something.”

“..Okay.”

Please don’t say your credit card, please don’t say your credit card please don’t say your credit ca-

“No matter how long this,” he gestures to your page-full of rules, “lasts, you have to find a way to explain yourself to him before Valentine’s Day, deal?”

Valentine’s day gives you a full two weeks to keep up your act, and as much as you want to deny and tell him that would technically break Rule #2, you doubt he’ll agree any other way. It’s Minho for goodness sake, you could throw a brick at his head and he’d wake up in the hospital the next day still remembering to feed his cats.

You’ll make an excuse.. or something like that.

Fine.

“Deal.”

Finally signing the bottom of the notebook paper, the bell rings for your next class to begin and your hand has already started to cramp horribly, a telltale sign your job here is done.

Stashing the illegitimate document in your bag and parting in opposite directions, your movements halt when Minho shouts your name, his flannel-clad form sporting a mildly smug grin.

“Hey! Don’t fall in love with me, okay?” He yells, and you make a disgusted face before both erupting into laughter.

After a rather ungrateful attempt of explaining your tardiness to English class, you drop your backpack down beside your desk, notifications buzzing with texts Jisung sent earlier today asking about where you want to sit for lunch tomorrow and your weekly tutoring sessions amongst other things.

A frown tugged at your lips.

You shouldn’t have lied, really really shouldn't have. So deep inside you hope; pray this’ll be your solution.

Fuck.

Jisung likes you.

Scratch that, he’s liked you. Liked you ever since fifth grade, when he skinned his knee wrecking his favorite captain america bicycle and you patched him up with multiple superhero bandaids.

So when he finds out it’s Minho you’re interested in, Lee Minho who in a billion years he didn’t expect you to be interested in, he’s astonished.

Because it’s not every day your best friend who you’ve been harboring the fattest crush on tells you she’s interested in another guy, especially not your other good friend, so he feels entitled to feeling a tad bit upset.

It’s not your fault and he knows it. You don’t know he likes you because he’s too much of a coward to say anything, do anything.

But somehow, in some majestic, all-knowing way, he wishes you had said his name instead.

Whether it was Summer Camp in middle school or all those times he’d sat behind you in Algebra just to talk to you, it was inevitable. Because before either of you knew it, he was falling in love, and apparently you were falling in love too; with someone else.

“Alright, and? Are you gonna tell me, y’know, why you like her?”

Awaiting the dismissal bell, he folded, desperately needing some kind of assurance. First person he usually went to was you, but that wasn’t possible now, since it’s not like he could simply run up to you and shout out his feelings, could he?

Duh, of course he could. Which is another reason why he won’t, and why he doubts he ever will.

Hell, merely talking to you on the phone whenever Minho passes by amounts to a mini heart-attack.

Instead, Seo Changbin stepped in, and in the midst of a barely occupied cafe, Han Jisung found himself spilling his guts. Spilling his guts as in: venting and brainwashing himself into thinking he could win you over.

“I mean, everything.”

His friend makes a hopeless sort of sound, head resting on his hand.

“She’s like…” Han forks a bit of the cheesecake, Changbin’s expression spurring his cynical seat-mate to continue.

“Cheesecake.”

The level-headed of the two chokes on his drink.

“..Cheese– Cheesecake?”

Han affirmatively nods. “And I love Cheesecake.”

Changbin rises from the table with a frantic Jisung in tow, pleading for his friend to hear him out.

“Look! Look wait, Changbin please-“

He swore the man’s eye twitched.

Although, they’ve known each other for four years, and he was quick thinking up a solution.

“I’ll work out with you for a month.”

He’s never seen a man sit himself down faster.

And as a result, their two hours of utterly senseless talk turned into short-lived (yet greatly appreciated) relief, filled with bits and pieces of advice granted by the matchmaker (Seo Changbin) himself. Plus, he made a good point in advocating you weren’t going out with Minho yet, right? Meaning, despite the possibility being sparse, he had a 1% on his side.

Rain pelted the campus upon his exit, the boy clambering his hood over his head, stepping a mere foot into the watery terrain for a text to vibrate his phone.

Usually he’d ignore it, but that was before he saw the number.

You.

Han stopped dead in his tracks, hoodie slipping off his head in the process—standing there, assailing droplets drenching his form, device clutched in a numb grasp.

Guess the relief wasn’t the only thing short-lived.

Y/N : You’ll never guess what happened Ji!! Minho asked me out!

Something about Jisung is different recently. You’re not sure if it’s an effect of your (fake) relationship, but he’s just.. different.

Distant.

Perhaps you should’ve expected it. This is the first time you’ve ever been in a relationship while being friends with Jisung, and the entire point of this after all is to keep your mushy feelings hidden.

But his entire “cold” persona was starting to get under your skin.

Yesterday he’d completely ditched you to talk to Chan, a fellow producer in the same class as Jisung which, might you add, never happened.

In fact, there was a time that your best friend had gotten so immersed in a conversation he slammed right into a pole. He still has a scar on his nose from it.

More so, a few months ago, leaning against the sink in his dorm the day after midterms when you’d be stressing and obsessing over precalculus, he reached up, cupped your cheek in a hand and rubbed his thumb along your skin.

..And you tumbled head first into those silly feelings the “he’s just a friend” Y/n had locked away and thrown out the key to.

Little did you know Jisung had a spare key all along.

“Eyelash,” He had said, but in your pounding eardrums the comment sounded more like a whisper, an invitation.

That night you lay in bed, trying incessantly to fall asleep to no avail, because every time you close your eyes the scene ran on replay, except in your fairytale he had leaned forward and kissed you—

A car alarm going off outside your window knocks your daydream awry, ushering you to give up on peaceful slumber after the three-hour trial period.

So why were you upset? You wanted this; you wanted to stay as friends out of the fear he didn’t feel the same—even more so that your friendship would dissipate along with it.

Easy.

It didn’t feel fair. You felt like, even though Jisung didn’t have any romantic intentions with you, you were technically (unintentionally) assigning his position as the third wheel without so much as a single vote.

And it didn’t feel fair, because a possibility remained.

A possibility that could mean Jisung liked you, and if that were the case, your efforts, not to mention your mind, would officially drift itself into a never ending orbit.

Albeit amongst your mental warfare, school ran right on schedule, blind to the infinitely deep shithole you had dug (and wished to bury) yourself in.

Thursday’s schedule consisted of a main topic.

Senior prom.

According to your firsthand accounts, prom in high school is either the best or the worst school event in the history of events.

The popular girls stick to tiny maxi dresses with overly tall heels and massive hoop earrings—granted, you don’t blame them for the dress, they’ve got snatched bodies, but sometimes (most of the time) the glitz and glam is a lot on the eyes.

Jocks will show up in cargo’s or dress pants thinking they’re the shit while their attire doesn’t even cut it when you look at their weekly exchange of a girlfriend, but hey, that’s high school.

If you were talking about yourself, you’d say prom was, well, prom. Not horrible, not amazing either.

Freshman year you spent way too much time rewatching “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before” and filling your nights treating the approaching occasion like a sacred holiday. Sophomore year you began to lose interest, and as for Junior year, you nearly forgot it existed.

The more you thought about it though, Jisung would honestly rock a pair of heels.

Anyway, that’s besides the point.

Senior year, this year, there was a change in your rotation. Change, as in, big change. A what-about-Jisung-while-Minho’s-in-the-picture change.

It’s not like you were genuinely dating Minho, yet your wack job of a situation kept you from telling your best friend (crush) who is deliberately avoiding you at the moment, the truth.

Never in your life did you think you’d string yourself into something like this. That Han Jisung, that snotty-nosed boy, would be a constant reason for your incessant headaches, occupying every expanse of your mind on a continuous loop.

And by chance, fate of some kind, you finally run into the runaway culprit, tagging along with Changbin after the lunch break he normally spent with you.

Oh how the tables have turned.

So when the boy expertly dodges your first attempt to communicate, you don’t let him go, unwilling to let another unread message slip past without sparing a word.

“Jisung- wait.”

He turns to you, lips drawn in that straight line that always forms when he’s nervous.

Hundreds of possible questions you could ask in this moment, minimal time.

“Are you.. going to the prom?”

What kind of question is that you dumbass.

Fixating you with an equally incredulous stare, he tips his head slightly, a mocking, humorless chuckle following.

“Um, yeah?”

What. The. Fuck.

Maybe it’s the way he phrased his words, his cocky attitude when responding that irked your nerves. Regarding you like you’re three years old.

And maybe that’s your flaw, feeling like you’re supposed to be the one sending him beet red instead, used to that comforting casualness, your comforting casualness.

Together.

You wrinkle your nose, ripping your hand from his sleeve like you were stung.

Jisung seemed to feel it too, although only you could tell.

“Oh.. okay. I’m going with Minho, my- boyfriend, so don't worry about me!”

Aw shit, now you’re just embarrassing yourself. Shut up and leave, girl.

Jesus, why do you feel like crying?

You’d never sprinted off faster, long abandoning sympathizing with the now jerk-face Jisung and certainly trying to abandon the two days separating prom’s date and the three from Valentines, otherwise, your explanation deadline.

Talk about pressure.

Nonetheless, shopping for something couple-clique was hell. After never anticipating you’d be shopping for two in the first place, simply finding a flattering color proved itself challenging.

Minho was ungodly picky, and you refused to wear what this lunatic deemed prom-worthy. Also, simultaneously trying your hardest to welcome whatever prom season was (an occasion that felt disgustingly uncomfortable) and staying awake to tirelessly plan on how you would behave seeing Han there left no room for relaxing.

Oh, and telling him everything before Valentines too, adding another sleepless night to your February calendar.

Insomnia much?

“Yah! The tie is what makes us look like a couple!” You groan, pressing the dark green bow tie to his shirt while his grabby hands attempt at prying you off.

February 12th arrived dangerously fast, to the point you managed to snag a somewhat-similar tie and dress shade at the last minute, a tie of which you were straining to attach to Minho while standing in an adjacent room to the packed auditorium.

He childishly whines, complaining that it’s too much before all of a sudden the door springs open, figure standing frozen in the entrance.

A figure none other than Jisung.

Best part? Your hands are pressed to Minho’s chest, stuck in a rather compromising position now that you mention it.

“Oh— sorry, um,” He steps back, frantically closing the door in his wake.

This is what you wanted though, isn’t it? Payback for how rude he’d been, for him to believe you were dating Minho, that you weren’t remotely interested in him.

Regardless, it feels like betrayal.

Your companion’s mildly concerned look speaks your mind.

In the midst of your mental tormenting session however, Minho slammed his hip into the side of the door while leaving, gritting out a hushed curse.

“Want me to kiss it for you?” You automatically tease, puckering up your lips in an attempt to block out the voice in your head calling you heartless.

Well, it’s not like Jisung likes you. The only feelings you’re hurting here are yours.

“I. Would. Rather. Die.” He retaliates, nose scrunched while nursing the wound.

‘What a sweetheart’ you want to call back, but the weight on your chest seals your lips shut, and with a nervous nod you stiffly head toward the opening hall.

Something to blame. Right about now, you need something to blame that would at least provide some breathing room considering the blasting of a bass shaking the floor and just how many people are crammed in here.

Everything feels too tight, too much. Minho’s got a loose hold on your hand to keep up the act, but for who? You can’t spot Jisung anywhere.

The fake boyfriend to your side caught on relatively early, sending you a troubled expression you mirror back.

An hour in and there was no enjoying yourself, no laughing and slipping drinks somebody stole from their parents, no dancing around or sending the same compliment to seventy girls on repeat.

Han wasn’t here even after he had told you (asshole-like) he’d come. The entire reason you went these lengths.

Amidst your frustration, you spot a man in the crowd.

Aha.

Chan.

I’m not looking for Jisung I’m not looking for Jisung I’m not looking for Jisung—

“Where’s Jisung?”

You’re kidding.

Chan narrows his eyes, giving your wavering, obviously upset frame a once over.

“Jisung? He dropped off something for Felix. Didn’t he tell you he wasn’t coming?”

Again, you’re kidding.

What a liar.

And maybe you shouldn't have yourself get so mad. Jisung didn’t even know the half of it, nonetheless how far you’ve gone to secure his suspicions were out of your hair.

But you did go that far, and to think he didn’t show up after all left your tribulations useless.

Calm down, the sensible Y/n would scold.

This wasn’t the sensible Y/n.

Racing from the auditorium to the neighboring apartment complex a block or so away, you utilize the extra key he’d given to you, bursting through the door while ripping off your gloves and kicking off your mud-stained heels along the way.

Han spins around, clad in regular clothes—somewhat regular clothes apart from how incredible he looks—with his biceps straining against the sleeves of his t-shirt, glasses adorning his face, plate of leftovers in hand.

He’s been working out recently, or maybe the majority of the Jisung you’d seen wore hoodies and baggy tees.

You’ll thank whoever got him to the gym later. Presently, number one is Jisung. You and Minho can be dealt with afterward.

“Look, I know you really don’t want to hear this right now, but Minho and I broke up and—“

The words sound like vomit on your tongue, especially from the look Jisung gives you in return.

Fake, It’s all fake. Yet, it feels so real. Yes, you’re still mad, but it’s Jisung, and who are you to deny you still aren’t into him.

You don’t have to be sensible to know that.

“So?”

So? He asks. This Jisung asks, not the one who would’ve, at the drop of a hat, asked if you were alright, asked if you needed anything like a friend does. This is cocky Jisung, jerk-face Jisung.

You’re spoiled with the old Jisung, were spoiled.

But this isn’t him, this is somebody else.

Your frustration levels might breach out of your ears at this rate.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He scoffs, carding a hand through soft strands of hair. “I’m not Minho. I’m not someone you can drag along just for the fun of it, alright?”

Who are you?

Wildly, you wrack your brain for any plausible explanation.

“What- What do you mean drag you along? I would never—”

“Then why?!” He cries, slamming the plate against the table hard enough you notice a crack wedged on the side.

Breaking point.

Come to think of it, this is the first time you’ve ever heard Jisung yell.

What felt to be months and months on end of this lying and stifling came out to this, huh.

Screw it.

“Because! Because I like you, no, I love you Jisung, I love you so fucking much it kills me! Minho and I were fake! I set up all this bullshit just because I was scared of what we have disappearing, can’t you understand that?!”

He’s seething; fat, crocodile tears dotting his waterline. And you stand there pathetically, waiting to hear it, hear something.

“Turn around.”

Huh?

He raises his eyebrows expectantly, and you slowly do as told, awkwardly shuffling around till your back faces him.

His fingers sift across your back, chills spreading along your skin.

“You’ve been uncomfortable all night, haven’t you? Why didn’t you tell Min— Tell me?” He grumbles, unzipping the back of your dress and simultaneously allowing much needed air to re-enter your lungs.

You don’t need to respond for him to know, another of the many things you’ve fallen for when it comes to Jisung.

Although, another reason added to that list would be his arms wrapping around your waist, cozying to your back. And another when you shift around, your own arms slipping to his neck, savoring a hug you hadn’t realized how horribly you missed.

“Can you go back to being just Y/n and not Minho’s fake girlfriend?” He mutters, head buried in your neck.

“Yeah yeah.” You respond, voice wavering the longer you stay pressed in his embrace.

Jisung pulls back slightly, studying your face.

“Can I…” He begins trailing off, eyes suddenly laser-focused on your face.

A roaring pit of deja vu swallows you whole.

His thumb does that, that thing again. That careful caress on your cheek, that close proximity.

“Eyelash.”

Everything feels like it’s on loop.

Only difference is when he begins to lean forward, and you swear it’s your imagination when he pulls the glasses off his face, lips barely ghosting over yours.

“Can I kiss you, please?” His tone slightly breathless, you don’t have to say a word by the way you’re looking at him for Jisung to take initiative.

Yet, his feather-light peck to your forehead catches you off guard, preparing to laugh before a careful hand slips to hold your neck, maneuvering your face into a kiss you’re certain you’ll remember.

Jisung, whom, quite frankly, squealed every time the two main characters confessed their love to each other, who was emotional and fragile, was kissing you.

He kisses you, just like that stupid fantasy.

It’s messy, inexperienced, but it’s Jisung. That’s enough.

And then, even worse for your sanity, his hands slip beneath your thighs to pick you up—an action that wouldn’t have been this detrimental if he hadn’t gained so much muscle recently—but it does.

Basically breathing him in, you’re slow to separate, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, sending chills down your spine.

Your nerves are on fire.

If anything, the world could burn and you’re certain you wouldn’t even notice, not when Jisung had you caged between his arms on the bar stool, positively enamored with every slight huff and gasp of air, the squeezing grip you had on his arms.

Ignorant to the point you forgot about his gym-partner (likely responsible for helping Jisung grow muscle, you’d thank him later for that) otherwise roommate who wouldn’t appreciate his best friend hogging in the kitchen.

Luckily, it only took the clattering of keys lodging into the doorknob to pull you two off of each other, scrambling to grab clothing while you raced to the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

Mere seconds after your hasty escape does the man, the myth, and the legend walk in, duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Jisung awkwardly grins, leaning back on the island as if you hadn’t just been sitting there, all pretty and perfect.

Han had always thought Changbin would be some type of dog in his past life—maybe a Rottweiler. And by the way he seemed to practically smell something was up, he was certain of it.

“Did I.. walk in on something?”

Nearly slipping half-way through his reply, Jisung (non)chalantly wiped a bout of sweat from his hairline.

“Nope! Just uh.. organizing?”

He would get weeks of shit if anyone caught on, nonetheless his roommate.

Instead of interrogating him further, Changbin grunted, bending down to pick up what the younger thought to be a piece of trash, only for one of your heels to be pinched between his fingertips, expression reading: “Seriously? Organizing?”

Color draining from his face, Jisung humorlessly chuckled, likely sweating enough to fill the Atlantic ocean.

“Did I ever tell you about my secret life as a drag queen?”

Hastily snatching the shoe away at the older boy’s face palm, his face flushing ten thousand degrees upon the cuff to the shoulder he received.

“Y/n?” His friend called loudly, met with your pitiful “here…” from the bathroom and a smug giggle from an amused gym-rat.

Yeah. Shit for weeks.

“Do you think Minho’s a good kisser?” Jisung piques, sprawled out on the couch with a bag of potato chips in hand.

The first official night of your relationship with Han started in mid-February. Tonight, you planned a movie date.

You, almost suffocating from how fast you inhaled, threw a not-so-kind slipper at him, the boy screaming avidly in response.

Through a fake relationship, pettiness, and a sad attempt at making-out, in a sense, you did explain yourself.

Hah. Suck it Minho.

“Hey! I’m just asking!”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @liknws @itshannjisung @spearbinnie0327 @manuosorioh @dearly-somber @thefangirloncrack @ivydoesit23 @thisrandomgoofy15 @thisisnotjacinta @palindrome969 @shycreationdreamland @j-oneseungz @hyperpixie @eyearebee @cupidcures @gumiess @loxgirl2004

[emaciated-creechur]

So I'm 20 and still haven't finished highschool because the pandemic fucked me over, but now I've just gotten into a nocturnal school for adults where I only have to complete one of the two years I have left in order to graduate.

The school year started a month ago (we start classes in March in my country) so I'm gonna have a lot of catching up to do and it's gonna be kinda awkward being new in the last year, but I think I can manage anyways.

I'm going there to study so I can finally graduate and stop being a highschool dropout so I don't really care if I make friends or if the other students like me as long as I get to finally finish it quickly because it's extremely hard to get a job if you're over 18 and don't have a highschool diploma in my country and I desperately need a job.

I'm also gonna start a 2 year long cooking course that's supposed to get you a diploma as a certified chef because of the job opportunities it'll give me and also cause learning how to cook will be useful to be able to make my own low cal meals however I want or just to feel useful once I live with my boyfriend.

Also because he hasn't been eating at work since he doesn't have the time to make himself lunch nor the money to buy it during his break and I'm really worried about his health cause he's been losing weight really fast and he actually really loves food and enjoys eating (I say, as I purposefully starve myself. The irony isn't lost on me)

So I have a lot of work and studying to do in order to catch up and learn new things, but I think I'll be able to manage and it'll be a good distraction for the recent traumatic event I went through and the stress that's my life in general lately, and I'm also just looking for a chance to finally move forward in life and start actually becoming an independent adult.

[lamesilversurfer]

Back in 2014 I had so many emotions

I was upset that I missed a scholarship, and that I had medical bills, I was even upset that I had to sue someone because they warned me that getting my money could take a long time. I think I was most upset that it took me forever to lose my virginity.

All the girls at all the dances in highschool, no girlfriend. All the sexual teasing from Sandy, but I never had sex with her or her friends. Even at college, I had a hard time. Losing my virginity was a just the tip affair, before I knew how to play. And sex just wasn’t enjoyable to me until after I dated my first steady girlfriend. And she was white. And I was a black boy from the hood. And that’s cute, but I felt left out.

And when I started trying to date girls that lived in my hood and went to school with me, now that I had money, and I knew how to have sex(finally) and I was the best plug around, and I had the best grades. I was overcompensating, but I still felt like an amateur, meanwhile my peers were impregnating girls and causing a scandal. The biggest scandal with me was getting arrested, not getting laid.

So when I finally had my chance, and I had maybe 3 or 4 beautiful black women that were going to give me a chance. I’m forgetting thier names I’m so old now. But they’re was Kyra, the skinny black girl from … Virginia? Then the short light skinned, and super thick girl with huge tits and a huge ass that always wore pink and had pink lipgloss. Then there was the girl that was a bit taller with excema that she kept hidden from everyone, but I could recognize the symptoms. She had rings on her neck that looked like finger marks and she smelled like grandmas cookies.

Gorgeous women.

And of course the girls from the projects, a never ending parade of them, each of them a bit too young, each of them more than willing to be my girl for a night, if I wasn’t such a bitch.

And I left them all.

I left them to secure my place in line that I’m in right now, for all the riches in the world.

I was tired of being the brokest one.

So in 2014, after leaving every girl I had a chance with. At least a chance to have a chance with. I was home, alone, stacked with debt, physically injured, arrested for a second time, and a 2 time college dropout, who just lost his chance to have a chance with the cute 18th at old alpha and the atl baddies she was sure to attract.

I was big mad.

But I made it back from that.

Determined, once again, to be the very best.

And it feels like right now, as good as I’m doing, like I’m the same position.

I have a lot going on for me in my life.

A lot.

But the thing I’ve been working towards, just seems far away from me. I’m gonna bounce back fr. But I just have to take this loss, and take this loss like it’s a victory, because I have SO much.

I have a lot.

I just don’t have everything.

[meanwhileinstasiville]

And so I liked "the color kittens" book when I was little,

had good rhythm. As now employed as an ongoing proselytizing strategy BECAUSE "cats" and "gate" (golden gate to the golden state) and "color" equals *as a xerox of my evil grandfather* (raised with radical acceptance and tolerance with moral and/or ethical bankruptcy overlooked) some kind of a synagogue thing; grandpa pissed them off too, *though he never raised a hand against them*.

So then, writing can kill; "pens mightier than swords"

(no I'm not content boxed into a chapter where I neither belong nor fit, synagogues)

Writing can confine; "stone walls...do not a prison make"

Writing can even establish worth and/or merit; "love of money" (meaning *money is love*) is the root of all evil"

(money being how synagogues get around and, as opposed to say, mosques and firearms since that tends to be "Turkish cannoneers and..." where a discussion starts)

(as far as Greta Garbo being related to the Ogren's and insinuations of "one side or the other"; it's actually *Turks* ancestrally and so really it's neither for that part of that branch)

Writing *is people* is what the latest long standing goal seems to have been; acids made of *four specific letters* seems like a pretty serious oversimplification for all life sciences.

(now tumblr is alternatively *telling me it is/isn't connected* in red or green, you know paragraph to paragraph)

Mom before her breakdown had taught me,

That you should never shop hungry.

The best stuff is the cheapest.

That you can't save money by spending it.

Also that the more people living on an excess (like opulence among muslims and old empires) the more excessive the opulence needs to be. America is accomodating *absolutely huge numbers of synagogues* consuming enough resources for *five whole planets*.

As a dutch aristocrat raised daughter (meaning semitic ideas), she had said that it was all relevance "as a woman" for women in that culture. You marry the saudi king for the money, and then have affairs with the head of the army, the leader of the opposition; the first love AND the last romance (because womanly ideas have been thoroughly documented) and then you're onto "why don't these old jewish ladies take bombs on airplanes" (actual quote) to really cover everything.

So I see these amassed "giant scrabble boards of doom" running around ashland and it's age old problems. Writing is like fire that way; a good servant but...it can be *really good at describing things* but it doesn't dictate how they work. And assuming it does usually causes really bad things to happen.

Ashland had long been a place where *the primary form of recreating* was spending money "getting to shopping" mom called marrying well and before her breakdown. So ashland became a place susceptible to being yanked around *by BOTH mosques AND synagogues* after the 1970s or something. And it shows.

And nothing people need, needs advertising. And that one is from my dad, a highschool dropout who used a *seven dollar pencil* and like a *thirty dollar pen* for most of his life, taking down like 80k per year; pretty good, huh?

Italy had "put sex on money"; Germany had "money is millions of years old", America had...I don't know what America had; *according to mom who was a government accountant* credit cards *did not mean American dollars "went farther"* it meant that "nobody had any money after 75 or so". Something was "using up all the cash" so rich people had to subsidize Americans who *weren't even born yet* with "something they couldn't spend at yard sales" (she didn't know anything about drugs before she had a breakdown). Equity on things unspeakably wealthy people have, is why whole swaths of America have been "living on credit cards" for so many years. And that was *back in the 80s* she had explained that. Assuming of course, as when she was living on a fixed income and actually laughing about the stuff, than *almost no one* makes minimum payments most or all of the time. And they have. And black people notably *come out of the womb* to this problem, which I had likened to a giant elephant in the room being polite and wearing wallpaper to blend in. As old as America's constitution.

(maybe this thing posts...who knows *censorship is getting interesting*)