#college bar

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

sick of this anti-aging obsession. let's go in the opposite direction. i want more characters who are hardened & grizzled & have a face lined with the harrowing tribulations of time--and then halfway through the narrative u find out they're 27

[academic-vampire]

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔲𝔪𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤. 🍁🍂🍃

[sushiisiu]

hope they get incurable diseases from this bathroom

[momotonescreaming]

Cooking Youtuber Steve; who has series where he makes good family friendly meals, dishes for picky eaters, tips for everyday cooking. As well as series where he tries to make historical dishes, food and drinks from games and TV.

DnD Youtuber Eddie; who has a long actual play series, videos about his characters and the world he's built. Videos about tips for your role-playing, getting immersed. A series where he tries other TTRPG's and board games.

Dustin persuades Steve to make videos about medieval inspired, DnD friendly meals. And because it does actually seem like a fun challenge, he does it. Dustin looks horrifically smug about it when the videos are a hit, the bastard. (Steve will make him eat something gross as payback. Its fine. Gotta keep him humble.)

And because obviously, Eddie sees the videos. He's always on the search for good DnD shit. But the guy is so fucking hot Eddie doesn't quite know what to do with himself. Except daydream about those eyes, and that hair, and those hands.

So Eddie records himself trying (and only sort of failing) to recreate the food. It comes out sort of ugly but actually nice tasting, so Eddie calls it a win. References the Hot Chef Steve in his video, adds a link to his channel, and tries not to feel his heart beating out of his chest when he sends @'s him with a link to the video. His channel is way bigger than Eddie's, he probably won't see it, Eddie's fine.

Except the Hot Chef does see it, and Eddie sort of loses his mind when he gets a comment or a message from him, thanking Eddie for giving his recipe a go, and giving him credit for the recipe. Eddie's not fine at all, this guy is way out of his league, and Eddie can feel the crush bubbling up under his ribcage, and Oh Fuck he's messaging Eddie.

[morganbritton132]

Eddie post a Tiktok of an old home video. In the video, he’s twenty-one, messy haired, laying on his side in bed facing the camera, and he looks like shit. His eyes are glassy, his nose is rubbed red, and his voice is thick the way it always is when he’s sick.

“This is a message for future Eddie,” Eddie tells the camera. “If you decide to spend the rest of your life with a man that spends all his free time babysitting - and I know you, you do want to spend your life with him - get used to catching every virus in town.”

In the video, Steve pops up behind Eddie and wraps himself around him, looking just as sick. His eyes never open as he cuddles closer, resting his head in the curve of Eddie’s neck and his hand on his chest over his heart. Steve sounds like he’s already falling back to sleep when he asks, “Who’re you talking to?”

Eddie looks into the camera like, “Myself.”

“Say hi for me.”

[swampthingking]

can’t study for my test because i’m having brain rot about neil accidentally getting super drunk and stumbling up to aaron like “andrew???” and aaron is like “wrong one” and neil is like “andrew.” and aaron is like “???? are you stupid” and neil goes to look for andrew but he stumbles into the table, and aaron has to catch him or he will get trampled for fucks sake, and neil just collapses into him in a drunk cuddly heap. and aaron is like “neil. you need to stand up” and neil is like “i am” and aaron is like “that’s because i’m holding you up” and they get neil to stand but neil kinda just flops into aaron’s arms again. and neil is like “i don’t hate you, i don’t, but it’s okay if you hate me” and aaron is like “ugh, ew are you really an emotional drunk???” and neil, to aaron’s horror, looks at him with tears in his eyes because you know when you’re too drunk and you kind of just get a little scared and you need help???? ya. and aaron is like … ok. and kinda holds neil until andrew comes back from the bar with more drinks. and he sees neil basically asleep on aaron’s shoulder, and aaron looking uncomfortable but accepting, so he kinda raises an eyebrow, an okay? and aaron nods and is just patting neil on his back

and tomorrow they’ll wake up and neil will toddle downstairs with his hand against his temple and aaron will have advil ready for him, and he’ll say “you’re annoying and you don’t know when to shut your mouth or mind your own business, but i don’t hate you” and the thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for staying goes unsaid but yeah

and that’s how aaron and neil became kind of friends

edit: vomited out a one shot for y’all (this will prob become a 5+1)

Aaron swirled his drink a few times, listening to the ice clacking against the glass.

Eden’s was packed tonight, courtesy of it being the end of the school year. College students and the regular patrons flocked to the bar, the dance floor, and all of the tables, leaving Aaron to reserve a high-top table, and his legs to dangle from the stool.

“Drew?”

Aaron ignored him in favor of the twinkling sound the ice makes in his glass. He’d already taken shots, danced, had another drink, danced again, and now Aaron’s body was heavy with alcohol and exhaustion.

“Drew,” Neil said again.

Aaron looked around their table and didn’t see Andrew. He remembered Andrew getting up and walking to the bar with their empty tray. Aaron found him a few seconds later, hands in his pockets at the bar. That and Neil, staring up at him, looking uneasy.

Before Aaron could tell Neil to get out of his face, Neil was speaking.

“Are you’nt having fun?” Neil frowned, blinking sleepy, hooded eyes at him. He leaned closer to study Aaron’s face.

“What are you doing?” Aaron grumbled, pushing Neil’s face away.

Aaron hadn’t even pushed him hard, he more removed Neil from his space rather than pushed him, but Neil wobbled like his world had tilted out of orbit. Aaron realized, quickly, that Neil was going to fall backwards. He grabbed two fistfuls of Neil’s shirt and pulled him forwards. Neil’s head lulled on his shoulders with the force, his chin hitting his chest then righting itself.

Aaron’s stomach lurched, sick with the thought that someone had put something in one of Neil’s drinks, as he would for anyone, but thankfully he’s never been put in that situation. Neil’s eyes were hooded, his face flushed. Aaron snapped once at Neil’s ear, and Neil recoiled immediately.

“Does your head hurt or anything?” Aaron asked. Neil shook his head, frowning.

“Are you dizzy? Follow my finger.” Aaron pushes Neil back so he can see his face, keeping one hand on Neil’s shoulder to hold him up. Neil follows Aaron’s finger as it moves back and forth, albeit a little labored, but not as if he’d been roofied. Aaron declares that Neil’s reaction times and responses are fine, but he still pulls the front of his shirt up and checks his belt, the button of his pants.

“What—?” Neil slapped a hand on his abdomen, stopping his shirt from being lifted any higher. Aaron didn’t need to see anything but his pants, but it was reassuring that Neil still had inhibitions.

His clothes were fine. His belt was still done, zipper up. No one had tried anything. Aaron relaxed.

“Sorry,” Aaron said. “Sorry, I just needed to…”

While racking his mind back to why Neil is this drunk, Aaron remembered Neil taking shots with Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin. Four shots. He’d seen Neil sip on another drink like the idiot had the tolerance for alcohol that the rest of them had.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Aaron said and released Neil. Neil attempted to step back, his hands raised in surrender.

“No?” Neil asked warily. Even drunk as fuck, he still respected boundaries. Andrew’s boundaries specifically, as it still hadn’t registered that he wasn’t talking to the right twin.

“I’m not Andrew,” Aaron said.

“Where’s Andrew?” Neil asked, turning his head pathetically in search. Aaron only had a good view of Andrew because they were seated at a high-top. Over the throng of taller people coupled with strobing lights, Neil’s view was obstructed.

“At the bar,” Aaron nodded in that direction.

Neil turned towards the bar. Well, he attempted to. He pivoted, lost his balance, and toppled into the table. He tried to right himself and started to fall to the other side. Aaron caught Neil before he could bust his shit and get trampled.

“Jesus Christ, Josten,” Aaron spat, righting Neil with hands on his biceps. Neil slapped a hand on the table and leaned his weight on it. The table quaked under such abuse, but held.

Neil turned slowly, grappling against the table as if he was standing in one of those spinning fair rides. In his excursion to simply spin 180°, his hand slipped off the edge of the table as he faced Aaron once again. He reached for the table, missed, reached for it again, missed, said, “Motherfucker,” under his breath, and finally gripped onto the edge. His eyes locked on Aaron’s again, and Neil’s useless hand landed on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Andrew,” Neil said. Aaron didn’t know if it was more a request or if it was just not registering.

“Wrong,” Aaron said, tense under Neil’s hand, but he didn’t push him off. He’d rather hold Neil up than peel him off the floor. “Aaron.”

“‘m very drunk,” Neil said, looking up pleadingly at Aaron as if he had a magical cure to shitfacedness, and all Neil had to do for it was look a little scared. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Aaron asked.

“I’m drunk.”

Aaron snorted. “That’s kind of the point when you’re at a bar.”

“But,” Neil said, taking a labored breath, “I’m…too drunk.”

This was beginning to feel exceedingly similar to speaking to a child. Aaron was annoyed, but not completely heartless, unlike the narrative of Aaron Neil had likely concocted. “It’s okay, Neil,” Aaron said. “You should sit down.”

Neil promptly sat as if there was a chair under him, but there was not. Aaron, still holding Neil vertical, got pulled out of his chair with the momentum. To avoid toppling to the ground—which did not get mopped as often as it should—Aaron planted his feet on the floor and hauled Neil up by his armpits.

“Help,” Neil murmured. His arms dropped to his sides as he yielded his dead weight to Aaron.

“Stand up,” Aaron grunted, readjusting to wrap an arm around Neil’s back. One of Neil’s arms flopped over Aaron’s shoulder.

“I am,” Neil complained.

“No, you are not.”

“I am.”

“Neil,” Aaron said through clenched teeth, “I am holding you up. You need to lock your knees.”

“Oh,” Neil said. He looked at his feet as if he needed to check they were on the ground.

To be fair, Neil did lock his knees, but he also leaned all of his upper body on Aaron, arms still hanging limply at his sides. He tucked his head into Aaron’s neck with, what seemed, every intention to make a home there for the night.

“Neil,” Aaron said, frozen against the hair tickling his cheek. “God dammit.”

“And…ron,” Neil spoke against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Aaron said sarcastically. “That’s me.”

“Can I j’stay here?” Neil slurred.

From what Aaron had seen of Neil’s dynamic with his brother, he knew Neil would get off if he said no. He could place Neil into a stool or pull up a chair with a back so he wouldn’t fall out and concuss himself. He could shove Neil off and make him fend for himself. He could pawn him off to Andrew.

At the moment, those other options seemed like far too much work.

That, or maybe it was the med student in him, the intrinsic urge to heal and help and nurture that smarted at the thought of pushing Neil off.

Aaron didn’t push him off when Neil readjusted and tucked an arm into his chest, the other gripping Aaron for stability. He didn’t when Neil asked again, a quiet, “Aaron.”

“Okay,” Aaron conceded. He rubbed a hand up and down Neil’s back placatingly, but also because Neil seemed like he needed it. And he came to Aaron for it. Well, he came to Andrew and got Aaron. But he didn’t push Aaron off, and Aaron hasn’t done the same.

And they just…stood like that. For what seemed like a long time, but it probably was only a few minutes before Neil spoke again.

“Aaron,” Neil said.

Aaron hummed in response.

“I don’ hate you.”

“What?” Aaron asked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Neil?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“What?” Aaron said again.

“I don’wanna fight.” Neil lets out a colossal breath.

“We haven’t fought in a long time,” Aaron says, his idea of agreement. Acceptance.

Neil was quiet, because it was true. Neil seemed content to lay in Aaron’s arms, and Aaron didn’t have another stool next to him. He sure as shit wasn’t giving his up for Neil, but Neil was genuinely so unsteady on his feet that Aaron couldn’t let him go.

He trembled a bit, and Aaron was almost amused that after everything Neil had been through, being a little too drunk is what finally did it for him.

But Aaron had felt that way before. Inebriated and scared in a crowded room of strangers. Neil, however, has people he knows. How can Aaron be upset at Neil for wanting the comfort that he also craved? How can he be upset that Neil feels safe enough with Andrew to ask for help? That his brother finally feels safe with someone too?

“Aaron,” Neil said.

“What,” Aaron said.

“It’s okay if you hate me.”

“Oh God,” Aaron groaned, “Ew. Are you really an emotional drunk?”

Neil pulled back and, to Aaron’s horror, there were actual tears in his eyes. His lip trembled as he bit it, holding the tears in. Aaron hated how much of himself he was seeing in Neil tonight. The harrowing fact that maybe they are quite similar.

“Oh God,” Aaron said again, mortified. He grabbed the back of Neil’s head and shoved it back into his shoulder, effectively hiding Neil’s teary face.

He cast a desperate look to Andrew, who was finally on his way back to the table. He patted Neil on the shoulder, like one would burp a baby when they have no idea how to do so.

“Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t need prompting to look. His eyes were trained on Neil and Aaron from the moment he turned around. By the nonchalance of his movements and his lack of alarm, Aaron guessed he had been watching their interaction.

Andrew set the tray down on the table and cast a significant look between them, settling on Neil’s intoxicated form keeled over on Aaron’s shoulder.

Andrew raises one eyebrow, a silent question, an okay?

Aaron finds himself nodding, and unsure why. All he knows right now, a few drinks in, is that he doesn’t hate this. And he doesn’t hate that Neil doesn’t hate him.

-

The smell of coffee set Neil’s feet moving like a Pavlovian response. He was half awake already with a pounding headache, like his eyeballs were beating his closed lids to death.

Neil toddles down the stairs with his eyes closed, a hand pressed hard to his temple, stabilizing his brain.

Aaron was standing at the counter already, facing the sputtering coffee pot. His arms were crossed, hair ruffled from sleep. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned.

The memories from last night played past Neil’s mind like a sped-up movie. He grimaced in embarrassment, and felt a little sick at how drunk he was. How stupid he was, to drink that much. He should have known his tolerance isn’t matched with the rest of them. He could have gotten hurt, could have said something—

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Neil said, covering his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Aaron said. He turned back to the coffee, though his posture was rigid.

Neil grabbed a glass of water. He noticed Aaron watching from the corner of his eye, but Neil chose to ignore him, figuring that’s best. He sat on the counter with his water, sipping it slowly while he and Aaron waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

The silence was thick, but they were both too stubborn to leave the kitchen. Usually, they preferred to wait and pretend the other wasn’t there.

That’s what Neil thought, at least. After a painful few minutes, Aaron huffed and grabbed the bottle of Advil from the drawer next to the sink. He shook two pills out and sat them next to Neil.

Neil stared at them until Aaron cast a pointed look at the pills, then physically gestured to them with raised brows. Neil took them while Aaron watched.

The coffee pot beeped. Aaron made a split second decision, grabbing two mugs and pouring coffee into them. He slid Neil’s across the counter. It sloshed over the side, but Aaron wasn’t capable of caring at the moment. His mind was busy, and he knew Neil had noticed his lack of eye contact; the analytical fuck.

“Look,” Aaron said. He did not look at Neil to say it. “You’re annoying, and you never know when to shut your mouth or mind your business. Most of the time, I’m convinced you have a death wish, and a lot of the time I find myself resenting you. You complicated our lives, put us all in danger, didn’t give a shit.”

Neil’s chest hurt. He didn’t know if it was anger or guilt. Aaron started talking again before he could figure it out.

“But I don’t hate you. I can’t, really. I can’t even fault you for the shitty things you did, because it all worked out.” Aaron glanced quickly at Neil, looked away. His cheeks were red.

The thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for being good to Andrew went unsaid, but Aaron hoped Neil wasn’t obtuse enough to force him to say it out loud.

Neil must have understood, because he nodded. Aaron figured that was as close to a reconciliation they were going to have, so he leaned against the counter and pretended everything was normal.

For the first time, they drank their coffee in silence without animosity orchestrating it.

Neil’s mug was half empty when Andrew joined them. He paused in the doorway, squinty eyed and mussed, looking between the two. Neil on the counter, Aaron leaning against it. Their silence, but lack of tension.

“This is weird,” Andrew finally said, his voice gravely from sleep.

“Yeah,” Neil and Aaron said simultaneously.

Neil glanced over his mug at Aaron, the corner of his mouth twitching. Aaron regarded it, but looked away, because something like contentment had made its way onto Andrew’s face.

Aaron smiled at that instead.

[litany-writes]

POTTER LANDO AU CERAMICIST LANDO AU CAN ANYONE HEAR ME ??????? SAVE ME CERAMICIST LANDO SAVE ME

also honorable mention for SLIP WHISKERS LANDO???

[birdhand-art]

My first submission to Xerox Candy Bar has officially been published!! I'm so excited to share the Monsters & Cryptids edition with everyone on distribution day :]

Thank you so much to everyone at XCB! Y'all are amazing and i'm so interested to see what comes next 👀

[giddlygoat]

as much as i want to see fiddleford recover and enter his much-deserved era of good mental and physical health, i also want to see the effects of his head trauma follow him forever. it’s important to me that while he heal and find a level of normalcy and peace, he never return to his old self.

kind of a side bar, but it’s relevant so: i also think there’s something to be said about old man mcgucket’s confidence. boldness? idk how to describe it. i wouldn’t say his paranoid tendencies have vanished, but for the most part he’s. breezier. part of it is the brain damage, and maybe part of it is genuine self-evolution in the right direction. but i think the obsessive mind-wiping just… broke that part of his brain. it’s like he’s no longer affected by fear in the same way. and i hope we see strong traces of that damage until the day he dies.

it’s important to me that fiddleford heal and emerge into self-awareness once more. it’s important to me that ford still look at him as very much the same person, despite all of the damage. but he’s also changed severely and irreversibly. i think of old man mcgucket as a much rawer version of fiddleford in that he holds less reservations and has no filter. he’s healing but he’s also broken, and those scars will forever be visible. and that’s important to me because it also changes ford and fiddleford’s dynamic a lot.

ok one last sidebar, then i’m done. when i say it changes their dynamic i mean it in the way that because fiddleford now wears his heart on his sleeve and ford himself is a bit wiser about relationships, there is less self-sabotaging going on between them. romance or friendship wise. and if nothing else, they both feel they’re getting too old for biting their tongues, so i imagine the discussions of certain difficult topics comes a bit easier now.

like, given that they’ve both made many catastrophically terrible decisions over their lives, they have a better perspective on life in general and have had time to reorient their previously fucked priorities. ford lives with a lot of shame for how he treated stan, dealing with the devil, and bringing about the end times. fiddleford lives with a lot of shame for how he treated emma-may and tate, starting a cult that ruined lives [especially his own], and not to mention the multiple death robot incidents. even though they both had good intentions or else thought their actions were justified at the time [mostly], it all collapsed on their heads because these actions were ridiculously stupid.

i think all of this is part of why the rekindling of their friendship happened so easily. fiddleford is eager to forgive ford and embrace him because he’s learned first-hand what grief and paranoia can drive a person to do, and so he feels the best thing he can do is accept his old friend back into his life, no questions asked. maybe ford will forever think he doesn’t deserve it, but he learns to accept mcgucket’s kindness and tries to learn from it. they’re both healing even if it’ll never be Backupsmore again. it’s still them, despite it all.

[blurrilines]

You can’t tell me this isn’t them

Based on this iconic moment ⬇️

[the-physicality]

thinking this labor day about all the athletes in women's sports who didn't have a stable league, who were only making decent money from a spot on their national team, who had to fight to get even a fraction of what they deserve. who spent their prime without a club league or the infrastructure to propel the sport. who came of age after title 9 in the usa [forcing schools to fund women/girls’ sports], the ones who fought for cbas and are only seeing big change at the end of their careers or after their careers concluded. who didn't have the media attention before, but are now showing just how much they can sell out stadiums and arenas. the players who played year round because overseas teams paid athletes what they were worth. athletes who endured and reported harassment but the league never took appropriate action. athletes who never had the media attention or ability to monetize their talent but who had careers that were just as impressive as the stars of today. who did it without the help of the science, technology, and medicine we have today. who set records with less support and fewer games in a season, which will be broken by kids who have had personal trainers since high school. athletes who played great games that are no long available to view, their talent no longer archived and accessible for young or new fans. athletes who still don't have a league or are just getting one in 2024. athletes who took it upon themselves to create change for which they will never reap the full rewards.

[academic-vampire]

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨.

[onebizarrekai]

I don't remember if you answered this question, but did you go to art school or are you self-taught? Have you studied from YouTube videos?

nah, I never did art school. I learned a few things from books when I was a kid and got signed up for a short summer art class one time, since I was thinking about being a professional artist and my parents were trying to help me along. I learned how to use digital art programs from tutorials when I was a teenager, but I haven't used tutorials much besides that. pretty much everything I know has been from observing other artists online and experimenting. so yeah, I guess that means I'm self-taught, haha.

I went to school for music and vocal performance, but I could tell a long story about the university I went to, how they weren't really qualified to train musicians and how I dropped out. I've already been working professionally as a performer for 7 years, working with a private teacher and as a teacher myself, and I have tons of experience that I never would've gotten at school, so it's all working out really well.

[transsongtaewon]

Rereading the early chapters is fun, because you think there's a sort of funny scene coming up and then Kim Sunghan mentions his college days in passing and Yoojin thinks wouldn't it be nice to go to college. And then follows it up with I Need To Get Drunk.

[beaglesfoundindumpsters]

i love those fics where richie really leans into his sexuality in college because he goes to college in a big city or smth. like i eat that up EVERY time. and i love writing him super fruity too because thats the way hes intended to be!! he serves cunt and we all know it.

[elix8r]

Monkey Bars (sjy) - Teaser

PAIRING: jake sim x fem!reader

GENRES: smut, fluff, crack, college au, frat au, enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, maybe the slightest bit of angst?

TEASER WC: 0.35k once again i have no clue how long this is going to be but from what i feel rn it’s gonna be another long one and it’s also going alot slower than pink whitney rip ૮₍•᷄ ࡇ •᷅₎ა

SUMMARY:  Jake Sim was like the epitome of the perfect fourth-grade boyfriend. He had it all – being a year older automatically put him on the cool list (which in turn also boosted your popularity), genuinely kind, and very cute. But then, the earth-shattering truth that he was a two-timing cheater hit you like a ton of bricks. You caught him red-handed, holding another girl's hand and it devastated you beyond measure. So of course, in your nine-year-old mind, there was only one deserving punishment – a forceful push off the monkey bars during recess, resulting in a broken arm. 

And so, the battle lines were drawn. You and Jake became sworn enemies, a feud that carried on even into college. You saw him as a total fuckboy who always knew how to get under your skin, while he saw you as a snobby bitch who thought she was better than everyone else. But fate, in its twisted sense of humor, had other plans. Out of a class brimming with a hundred other possibilities, it was Jake who ended up being your assigned partner. 

Clearly, the world had favorites and you weren’t on that list.

THE FRAT DIARIES MASTERLIST

As Waka Flocka's "No Hands" reverberated through the pulsating house, your body instinctively moved to the infectious rhythm, the alcohol adding to the blissful sway. Suddenly, a strong arm snaked around your shoulders, and the intoxicating scent of cologne filled your senses. Your body melded snugly with theirs before they leaned in, whispering into your ear.

"What's your name?" His voice jolted you, instantly recognizable and sobering. Slowly, you turned your head to face him.

Jake fucking Sim. 

Out of all the people in the world, of course, it was him. The realization seemed to mirror his own sentiment, evident from the annoyance etched across his face. Disgusted, you pushed him away, eager to distance yourself from his unwanted proximity.

"Oh, fuck no. Fuck off," you shot him a withering look, brushing at your shoulders as if trying to wipe away any remnants of his presence.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" His question only served to reinforce your belief in his sheer stupidity. You rolled your eyes, mustering up the patience to respond.

"Really, Jake? Why do you think you dumbass?" The realization hit you that Epsilon Nu was the frat Jake belonged to, instantly eroding any remaining respect you might have had for the house.

"No way you got a bid from AES," he exclaimed incredulously, disbelief radiating from his eyes. "Only hot and cool girls go AES, and obviously, you're neither."

"You've clearly become even dumber since high school 'cause it seems like you've forgotten that I'm a triple legacy," you emphasized, feeling your blood pressure rise with every passing second of the encounter.

"Whatever, get away from me," he retorted, his face still contorted with disdain, prompting a scoff to escape your lips.

"You're the one who came over to me, you asshole." With that, the two of you abruptly turned away from each other, stomping off in opposite directions, each eager to put distance between yourselves. The excitement and joy that had previously filled bid day were now replaced by a sour mood.

Leave it to Jake to ruin everything.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jake is so mean in this story but i love him sm like it’s so fun to write when both your main characters are assholes lmao it adds spice like this is already such a different vibe than pink whitney despite being in the same universe but i love it (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)