#i'll never get into college

[atlas-h0lds-th3-sun]

Failed my science quiz

[densewentz]

Heterochromia

Sandman Inktober Day 1! I'll be using the cringetober prompts bc reasons, and today gets Delirium with bonus!Dream 💕

[ask-lu-wild]

[yutamayo]

4pc chicken

[gentil-minou]

student council au where wei wuxian ran "as a joke" but won president with lan wangji as his vice president and their shenanigans as wwx uses a sizeable amount of their budget for carnivals and student events and lwj just...lets him

his uncle, the principal, asks him what on earth are you doing and lwj just takes out a research paper that shows the benefits of fun and relaxing activities on student mental health while wwx is shooting a t-shirt canon at the crowd behind them

there's a sofa in the student lounge that wwx uses to take naps and everytime he does his shirt rides up revealing a sliver of skin and lwj has one hand in a tight horny grip as he calculates how much of their budget they can devote to a bunny petting zoo even though the insurance will be a nightmare but wwx really wants one so he will get one.

(at the petting zoo, wwx tells him the bunny petting zoo was a birthday gift for him)

(lwj kisses his big stupid perfect little face)

[buckevantommy]

Agh too many options! Okay this is severely pared down and still a lot so, sorry or you're welcome idk 😅

👔👔👔

🎓🎓🎓

🥺🥺🥺

(your username is perfect for the suit one btw)

👔 — Tommy shows up at the firehouse in a suit. Buck has feelings about it.

"Do you have to go?" Evan doesn't break the bounds Tommy sets, keeping a small amount of distance between them even as he comes to stand between Tommy's thighs.

That pink, sulky pout and those lust-blown pupils and the wall of bothered heat radiating from Evan is almost enough to make Tommy forget about his responsibilities.

Almost.

Evan's hips sway forward and Tommy's hands move to meet them. Stop them. His aggrieved sigh fills the dense air. He doesn't have the kind of power to postpone today, but even if he did he wouldn't use it because they need his help with the defence and he gave his word.

"Would you really want me to blow them off?"

"I got somethin' you could blow.."

"Evan." He tries to sound stern, he really does— but he can't help the way he finds Evan's shameless desire delightful, and his fondness comes through in a smile.

The cocky little grin Evan busts out makes Tommy want to kiss him about it.

So he does.

He guides Evan in by the back of his neck and he all but melts against him, tries dropping his jaw to deepen the kiss, hands sneaking up Tommy's thighs—

"Mh— nope, c'mon." It's partially his doing, he won't deny that. But they can't keep going in sexy circles like this or he's going to be late even if he does manage to escape with a more or less clean suit. Standing, he maneuvers Evan back towards the closed door with ease, and with only minor resistence.

"No fair," Evan whines.

Tommy spies the clock on the wall. He really has to get going, and it's a struggle to not dive back in for another kiss as Evan leans back against the door, the long line of his body inviting, tempting. "From where I'm standing, I don't disagree." Because duty calls, so he takes Evan's hand and leads him out into the bright hallway, his mind a carousel of all the ways he could make this up to his boyfriend later that night, and reward himself in the process, too.

🎓 — College AU.

Buck finds the door open and no one inside. "Uh, h-hello?"

A poster pinned to the wall catches his eye: it's a man with an intimidating physique and the bare muscles of his chest and arms glistening in the sun. Buck can appreciate a good workout when he sees the fruits of that labour. He wonders what this guy does to maintain the kind of body that essentially doubles his size. 

He takes in the rest of the image, noting the suspenders and the hose and the helmet. A firefighter. It's a calendar of half-naked firefighters, the kind sold for charity. He wonders if one of the dormers is related to a firefighter and made everyone buy one, or if it was a gag gift, or maybe—

"Can I help you?"

Buck flinches at the voice behind him, dropping the calendar page and jerking away from it like he's been caught looking at something he shouldn't. He was snooping. "Um, I—" He whirls around so fast he knocks the shelf beside him, knocking a small box onto the floor and scattering its contents. "Shit— I-I'm so sorry." He's on his knees gathering up the—sticks of charcoal?—before he can think.

"Oh, that's— don't worry about it, really." The guy drops to a crouch, reaching for a few wayward pieces.

Their fingers brush where they both place the charcoal back in the little box. Buck pulls his hands back like he's been burned. "M'sorry, I just—" For the first time he gets a look at this guy. "I'm.. lookin' for Tommy?"

"Well, you found him."

There's a small quirk at the corner of Tommy's mouth like he finds Buck amusing but Buck can't really focus on that because he feels too hot all of a sudden. Is there no air-conditioning in this crappy dorm? "Uh. Hi."

Tommy's smile breaks free and crinkles his cheeks and the skin around his eyes a little. It's a really nice smile. "Hi. You got a name?"

"Bu—uh, E-Evan. Buckley."

"Good to meet you, Evan." Tommy pushes up from the floor and extends a hand down to Buck. He raises his brows expectantly, and. Well.

Buck grasps his hand firmly.

Not that he couldn't get up on his own, but Tommy was willing to help and it would be rude not to let him, right? It doesn't even occur to him that he should support most of his weight as Tommy pulls him to his feet—because he's not a small guy. But Tommy isn't exactly lacking in the physical department either; he could probably book a spot on that firefighter calendar if he wanted.

🥺 — Alternate Canon: just friends with pining!Tommy and “straight” Buck, hurt/comfort.

i'll have to leave this one for now. i can't find it in my gdocs or my tumblr drafts. i think it might be a rambling idea i put in the tags of a post i reblogged - but for the life of me i don't know what to search for to find it.. 🥺🫶

[astrobei]

SUNI!!!!! can i maybe request byler + giggling while kissing🫢🫢 go crazy with it i know itll make me insanely giddy

liv !! absolutely anything for you !! this got away from me so fast and it's so. it's. well. you'll see. here's kiss prompt #29 - giggling while kissing

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” Will remarks, raising an eyebrow at Mike over the top of his book. “What’s gotten into you?”

Mike just grins, closing the front door behind him. It’s five o'clock on a Thursday, meaning Mike’s had class from ten this morning almost straight through four p.m., with a brief break in between American Lit and his creative writing workshop where he’d run across campus to the good café for a bagel and a coffee. According to all logic and reason, Mike should not be in a good mood. He should, statistically speaking, be in a really shitty mood.

And yet.

“Nothing,” Mike says, dropping his bag to the floor, right there in the entrance to their apartment. “And what the hell? I got home, like, three seconds ago.”

Will keeps the same look fixed on him as Mike kicks his shoes off, sending them tumbling one after the other into the corner of the room. “Call it a certain je ne sais quoi,” Will replies, following Mike with his gaze as he immediately moves to pick up his shoes. “I can tell.”

Mike turns and squints. “You know French?”

“Sure,” Will laughs, then sets his book aside. He stretches, long and lazy along the length of the sofa, socked feet emerging from the ends of the blanket he’s got thrown over him. “Let’s go with that.”

“You don’t know French,” Mike announces. He would know. Will took Spanish with him for all four years of high school – four agonizing years of conjugating the past participle and imperfect subjunctive – and was even brave enough to attempt a brief foray into an introductory college class before finally calling it quits. Personally, Mike thinks it’s impressive Will lasted the semester. Mike had collected his high school credits and never looked back. “I would know.”

“Yeah?” Will leans back on the couch, watches Mike shuffle the rest of their shoes into place on the shoe rack. “Maybe I do.”

He doesn’t. “Prove it,” Mike says, then picks his bag up off the ground and plops it on top of the dining table. “Say something in French right now. Something romantic.”

“Bonjour,” Will says easily. “Mon ami.”

Mike squints even harder this time. “‘My friend’ is not a romantic thing to say, and also, you’re a liar.”

Will frowns. “How do you know French?”

“I don’t,” Mike laughs. “But I read a lot of Agatha Christie.”

Will gives him a weird look, a little incredulous and a little amused, then holds up the book he’d been reading. It’s Mike’s copy of Murder on the Orient Express. “Yeah, I know. You're unbelievable.”

“I’ve been looking for that,” Mike says, even though he absolutely hasn’t. “You thief.”

Will just smiles, beckoning Mike over to the couch with his free hand. “You love me,” he says, which is a lot closer to the mark than Mike would like Will’s rebuttals to his (entirely unserious) jabs to be.

Mike walks over, of course, because Will is right, and Mike loves him, and love makes you do crazy, stupid things – like being happy on a Thursday evening when your head hurts and your body hurts and all you want is to sleep straight through Friday afternoon. Frankly, it’s ridiculous how happy Mike feels. It’s a bit of an embarrassing look for him, actually.

“Hi,” Mike says, entirely unnecessarily, and lets Will pull him down with one hand. He lands sideways, sprawled halfway across Will’s lap, over the top of the absurdly fuzzy blanket they keep at the foot of the sofa.

Will smiles up at him. “Hey,” he replies, easy and warm. It’s also ridiculous, along with everything else, how soothing the single word is as it leaves Will’s mouth, how Mike’s oncoming headache ebbs, ever-so-slightly, at the sound. Will’s still got Mike’s book in one hand, but he folds a page down and sets it on the coffee table, then scoots over to make room, pressing his back up against the sofa cushions. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Mike sighs, tucking his face into Will’s neck and trying his hardest to not fall off the edge of the sofa. He wiggles his feet under the blanket too, tucks them under Will’s calves, the warm fleece of his pajama pants. “A little tired,” he admits, and Will lets out a sympathetic noise above him. “But good.”

“I’m glad,” Will murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Mike’s head. “And I know for a fact you’re in a weirdly good mood because I folded down the page of your book and you didn’t even yell at me.”

It takes a second for the words to land. Then– 

“Oh, you asshole,” Mike laughs, immediately twisting around in Will’s arms to look at his poor, innocent book lying on the coffee table’s coaster-dotted surface. “You were testing me?”

“You told me you didn’t care about that anymore,” Will points out, one arm wrapping instinctively around Mike’s waist as he moves. “You said you were working on it.”

“I am working on it!” Mike protests. “It’s a secondhand copy anyway, it was already dog-eared and– it’s not about that! I just think you’re so–”

“Mhm?”

“So ridiculous,” Mike says halfheartedly, as Will drops a light kiss to his nose, then his cheek. “I’m in a normal mood. A normal, fine, ordinary–”

“Sure–”

“–and I’m not any more happy than usual–”

“–uh huh–”

“Will!” Mike laughs, breaking away from Will’s vice grip, pulling back from where Will had been leaning in to press another kiss to his cheek. “Oh my god.”

Will just smiles at him. His hair is a bit messed up from lying on the couch, and Mike can feel himself warming up, slowly, from the late February chill he’d braved to walk from the bus stop back to their apartment. “Sorry,” he says, a bit apologetic, a bit pleased, and entirely genuine. “You’re just so fun.”

“I hate you,” Mike whispers. He’s sure that any hope of the phrase having even the slightest semblance of effect is vanquished immediately by the way he says it – breathless and adoring and totally, completely lovesick. “You’re infuriating.”

“You love me,” Will repeats, looking even more happy with himself than before, like getting Mike riled up and flustered is the highlight of his day. He pushes a strand of hair out of Mike’s eyes and asks, more seriously, “Are you hungry? You want something to eat?”

“Yeah? You’re gonna cook for me?” Mike asks, as if they don’t know a grand total of maybe five recipes between the two of them.

“Sure,” Will says. “Yeah. It’ll be romantic.”

Last Mike checked, they needed to get groceries, and he’s not sure what they even have that could feasibly be put together for a meal, but Will’s weirdly good at that sort of thing – throwing the most random ingredients together until it resembles something vaguely edible. Not gourmet, by any means, and sometimes not even good, but, like – if you need caloric sustenance, he’s your guy.

Mike isn’t sure how he feels about another one of those meals, though. Especially when he considers the stockpile of tuna cans in the pantry that’s been there for about a million years. He gives Will a suspicious look. “Like what?”

“Don’t give me that look,” Will says, then shoves gently at Mike’s side to get him to stand up. He follows, kicking the blanket off into a haphazard pile on the end of the sofa, and trailing Mike into the kitchen. “Mac and cheese. From a box.”

Kraft dinner sounds safe enough. “Okay,” Mike says happily. “Thank you.”

He hops up onto the counter while Will digs around the cupboard for a pot, then goes about filling it with water. The kitchen is silent for a while, save for the low humming of the fridge, the sharp clicking of the stove as it turns on. Mike watches him move, a low flame of affection bursting to life in tandem with the gas-fueled warmth against his skin. It’s probably dangerous to be sitting so close to the stove when it’s on, but whatever. It’s the only strip of counter that has enough space for Mike to climb onto and still be this close to Will.

“What’s up with you?” Will asks, pulling a box of mac and cheese off of the cupboard shelf and peering curiously up at him.

Mike, a little belatedly, realizes he’s smiling. “Nothing,” he says, as Will sets the box down on the counter next to Mike’s thigh. “Why?”

“I don’t believe you,” Will says, then slots himself easily into the space between Mike’s legs, rests two hands on his hips. “You never smile this much on a Thursday.”

“You’re so hung up on it being a Thursday,” Mike hums, as Will presses his fingers into Mike’s skin, pushing up the soft fabric of his sweatshirt just a little. “Why are you– hey, that tickles!”

Will just grins, watching Mike squirm with no small amount of joy on his face. “Watch out for the fire,” he says, calm and collected and cool as a cucumber, like he wasn’t the one that nearly got him burned in the first place.

“Watch out for the– oh, shut up,” Mike says. Will laughs, low and pleased, and leans forward, tilting his face up.

“Come down here,” he says, frowning. “I can’t kiss you when you’re all the way up there.”

“Not my fault I’m taller than you,” Mike mumbles, but slides off the counter anyway. He lands a bit awkwardly, stumbles half a step forward before Will steadies him.

“I’m hung up on it being a Thursday,” Will says, tucking a kiss to the side of Mike’s cheek, right under his ear, “because you’re always miserable on Thursdays.”

“I am not,” Mike laughs, as Will pulls back. “What gave you that idea?”

“You’re up early and you have a million classes and you never get enough time to actually eat during the day and you never let me forget it,” Will says, the answer a little too immediate for Mike’s liking. He steps closer, presses Mike back up against the counter until the cold linoleum tiles are digging into the small of his back. “And you’re a menace when your blood sugar is low. Is that it? Did you eat a real lunch today? Are you currently operating under normal human physiology?”

Mike thinks back to the solitary bagel he’d eaten in approximately seven bites while running between the English building and the Communications building. “Um. Unless you count me getting an everything bagel instead of plain, then no.”

“Then what is it?” Will asks. “I can tell, you’re so– you’re being so–”

Mike gives him a strange look. “I don’t think I’m being anything,” he says. It’s true – he doesn’t feel any different from normal, except maybe a little warmer and a little fuzzier and a little bit more hungry than on his average day. “What’s your deal? What am I being?”

“Smilier,” Will says, tilting his head like he’s looking for a nonexistent giveaway in Mike’s face. His eyes dart over Mike’s features, slowly, drinking them in.

“That’s not a word.”

“If I guess,” Will starts, ignoring him, “will you tell me?”

“There’s nothing to guess– Will!” Mike shrieks softly, as Will peppers a quick succession of kisses across his cheek and down his neck. “Fuck you, that tickles!”

“Good grade on a paper?” Will hums against his throat, which isn’t really doing much to help with the tickling thing. Mike tries to pull away, but Will’s grip is steadfast, unyielding. “Heard back from your advisor?”

“No, and no,” Mike gets out. “Nothing happened!”

“Don’t believe you,” Will murmurs, then kisses Mike over the bridge of his nose. “Class got canceled?”

“Thankfully not,” Mike laughs, “because we were peer reviewing today– Will, oh my god, why are you–”

“Be honest with me,” Will says, squinting slightly, “are you on drugs?”

“How the hell would I be on drugs,” Mike stares, a grin spreading, wide and giddy, across his face. His chest is aching from laughter, cheeks already tired from smiling so hard. It’s ridiculous how often he feels like this around Will. He didn’t know you could feel so exhausted in such a wonderful way, by such a wonderful thing. A welcome ache, soothing and grounding and exhilarating all at once. “I don’t understand you.”

“Then tell me,” Will says quietly, leaning in again. He kisses Mike, soft and intentional, thumbs rubbing circles over his hips where his crewneck had ridden up earlier, long and slow enough that Mike forgets about it, for a second – the teasing and the prodding and the interrogation – and the warm ache of laughter gives way to something smoother, steadier. He wants to sink into the feeling like a warm bath – or maybe a dry macaroni noodle in a pot of boiling water.

“The water,” Mike mumbles, barely decipherable. “It’s boiling.”

“It’s just water,” Will says, “it’ll be fine,” and kisses him again.

That’s a good point. “Okay,” Mike whispers, and lets the feeling overtake him – Will’s hands, steady and warm where they’re pressed against Mike’s skin. Where his hair is still damp from his shower, because Will is ridiculous and lame and has one morning class on Thursdays and gets to lay around at home for the rest of the day.

Will presses another kiss to Mike’s lips, leans in once, twice, and–

Thud.

“Ow,” Mike groans, pulling away just long enough to squeeze his eyes shut and rub at the back of his head, where the cabinet had oh-so-rudely refused to move out of the way for him. “Great.”

“Mike,” Will says in mild disbelief, biting down on his lower lip. His eyes are sparkling, cheeks a little flushed. God, Mike loves him. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he breathes out, smiling. “I’m– yeah, that was so stupid.”

“So stupid,” Will grins. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Mike groans again, exasperated and drawn-out, and that’s it – Will laughs, bright and happy and eyes going all crinkles at the corners and moves in to kiss him again.

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“Don’t laugh at me,” Mike protests, but he’s laughing too, catching Will’s soft exhales as they leave his chest, leaning forward to press more of his weight into him. Will moves easily, lets Mike grin against his mouth – wide and happy and far too pleased for his own good.

“Okay, don’t tell me,” Will says at last, pressing a final kiss to Mike’s cheek before pulling away. “I’m just happy you’re happy.”

“Will,” Mike starts, then reels him back in with one hand on his wrist. Will looks startled, eyes wide as Mike catches him by the other hand too. “I was– nothing happened, I swear. I was just thinking about you earlier.”

Will blinks. “You were thinking about me?”

“Yeah,” Mike shrugs. Will says this like it’s a rare, wondrous occasion – Mike thinking about him, that is – and not something that usually happens during most of Mike’s waking hours and some of his unconscious ones too. “I was thinking about you. You just– you make me feel better. I didn’t notice anything was different.”

Will just looks at him. “So you’re not on drugs?”

Mike drops his head to Will’s shoulder and sighs, long and bereaved. Will laughs, low and breathy next to his ear, wraps both arms around Mike’s waist, and holds on. “Seriously?”

“I’m kidding,” Will murmurs. “That’s sweet. You– really? What were you thinking about?”

This is embarrassing.

“Just you,” Mike admits, a little muffled into the fabric of Will’s sweater. “Just– coming home to you, after a long day.”

“Sap,” Will says, saccharine and so fond that it seems to be spilling right out of him. Mike can feel it, all the ways Will loves him, like it’s a physical thing that’s taking shape under his hands. They’re what make Mike think about him so often, all the time, in the middle of a painstakingly long lecture or seminar. Turning memories like these over in his mind, the simple comfort in knowing his day is going to get better as soon as Will gets his arms around him.

“Shut up,” Mike says. He turns to kiss along the curve of Will’s cheekbone, right under his eye, where the skin has gone wonderfully pink and creased with laughter, then pulls away. “The water’s been boiling for, like, ten minutes, by the way. Just so you know.”

[time-to-yar-har]

Forgot to post this, but one of the people on one of the servers I'm on (and talked about the Knowledge White AU with) asked about how the scene where Sanji and Zeff get stranded would happen with Goji around. It would go like this:

Goji insists that Sanji eat most of the food that Zeff gives them. His argument being that he's built much tougher than Sanji, and as such he can handle going without food for longer periods than a normal human. That, and he has a fishing line on him that he uses to try and catch fish for himself (and Sanji) to eat. (Goji gets in the habit of being prepared for anything and making sure that he has 'everything but the kitchen sink' on him just in case. With he and Sanji hiding away from the Judge, better to have as many tools/items as possible to help with any situation. Basically, better to have it and not need it then need it and not have it.)

After a few days on the rock, Goji goes to Zeff's side of the rock to steal his "food" for himself and Sanji. (He waits till Sanji is asleep because he doesn't want Sanji to get get caught up if Goji ends up fighting Zeff.) That's when he finds out that Zeff gave him and Sanji all the food and that the pirate has been eating his severed leg to sustain himself.

Goji is more confused by Zeff's actions than anything. After all, logically Zeff should have kept all the food for himself instead of giving it way in order for himself to survive. Doing the opposite makes no sense to Goji. And Goji is not sure how to feel about it. But in the end he decides not to care. His and Sanji's survival is the most important. Though he does tell Zeff not to tell Sanji about it because Goji just knows that his brother would feel the need to repay back such a debt and might try to give Zeff some of their food.

Goji does end up sharing some of the fish he caught with Zeff too. Yet it took a few days after finding out what Zeff did before he would start to sometimes slip the pirate a fish here and there. Mostly at night so that Sanji wouldn't find out. (Goji doesn't understand why he does so. He just thinks that if he takes on the debt of Zeff giving him and Sanji a chance to survive, than Sanji doesn't have to.)

After that, Goji does make sure that the food doesn't fall off the rock. And sometime later, Sanji does try to take the "food" that Zeff has for himself and Goji. Goji tries to stop him, but after Sanji makes a comment about Goji not caring about him, it freezes Goji in his tracks for a moment. (And although he doesn't realize it then, that comment filled Goji with dread. Worried that his brother might hate him.) That moment is all Sanji needs to find out the truth. And then it ends how it does in canon. They get saved and Zeff ends up taking in both Sanji and Goji.

[jinxpologist]

i wish my grandpa was here

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

I just discovered you thru scroll but I gotta say thank you so much for your hcs they are fueling my Nekoma hyperfixations. I laugh everytime I read about the first year shenanigans lmao. Hope you can continue with the hcs cause they are literally the best I've ever read<33333

Glad to hear it dude, it's my pleasure!! Also hyperfixated on them (if that wasn't obvious lmaoo) so i've been having a blast chatting with all of you and sharing my thoughts! It's been a couple weeks since I did one of the big hc posts but don't worry, I got some building up in my drafts. Also maybe short fics? Idk i'm out of practice with that but I have some ideas haha. Anyways thank you so much, appreciate the message! :D

[spacebubblehomebase]

hi, just letting you know that ahmed 90s-ghost doesn't verify fundraisers anymore! he quit after it got too overwhelming, so you shouldn't @ him asking him to. you can probably find the post about it by searching his blog.

Thanks for letting me know, Anon...

I get it... I REALLY do.

I understand. Y'know I used to be so excited to get Asks. It means someone wants to talk about art and silly cartoon characters with me. But now all I feel is dread. Not because I don't want to help, but because the help I give is never enough. I used to privately mesage back to those Asks, but one became 6 became 10 to... Well. I can't donate. Euros and dollars are valued a lot higher here, thus the opposite is also true. The value of our money is but a paltry bread's worth and even if I split it in crumbs, with the amount of people who approach me for help, it'll soon run dry, but I'm just a student who still rely on my parents financially. So I thought I'd share instead, but that quickly got out of hand. I post one thing and get multiple asks by the HOUR. I already had to apologize for struggling to meet demands before and I only had 3 or 6 rare to come-by short Asks about art. Now I have a hundred and counting I have to check personally. I didn't want to admit it, but I've also long been overwhelmed. I just didn't feel like I had the right to say so. I still don't. But the truth is, anyone can say they're verified too, which is terrible because not only will I be partially responsible for my followers who got scammed by bots or scumbags who take advantage of those at war with fake fundraisers, but even worse is that the help and money may not even reach those who actually need it. I thought I would be fine the first time. I don't really like posting too much about our depressing reality or watching news in general because my account was supposed to be a "safe SPACE" and a "nice little BUBBLE" for us to be happy and escape for awhile, so I didn't think much about reblogging it at first. I only wanted to help. But it just kept going and I got swept away. There's so many of them, but there's only one of me and I've been spiraling lately. So for now, I will no longer take any Asks about this subject (which I always avoid mentioning directly because the algorithm has it out for putting you guys down and I wanted you all to make it so I didn't tag those reblogs as such). I'll still take Asks provided they're related to my actual content and of course I'll still support raising awareness for Pal est ine, yet I also get it if this may appear selfish to some of you. I tried. I really did. But if you'd rather ignore, unfollow, or block me for this decision, I understand. I'm just sorry it had to come to this and that I wasn't strong enough to help more. -Bubs.

[butchnavi]

college reopens in like a week...I am not ready 😭

[blizzardfluffykpop]

it's starting to hit me that i'm going to have a career soon and like... that is like a wild thing to try to comprehend?? like yes i've studied my ass off for the past twoish months- to pass a test. but that test means i have job where i can sit and do my job? it's still a very radical concept to me.

[medicinemane]

So... I hadn't checked for a while cause I knew the government was covering my $0 a month income ass with the SAVE program (which I've since learned republicans have been suing to put a stop to and federal judges have frozen which... thanks guys)

Anyway, before that happened they must have paid off my loans cause... I mean... I cut everything even remotely identifiable out there, but just look... paid in full, $0.00 balance!

So... thank Biden, thanks Harris... you actually did what you said you would

That's a huge weight off me. I mean, I was in forbearance (or whatever the one is where you tell the loan company you've got $0 in income) for a long time (which I learned probably had kind of screwed me over with the old rules) but... this way I don't have to worry that if I ever get on my feet I'll suddenly be slammed by student loans

This means I get to focus on making things better for myself by doing stuff to work on my house so it holds heat better and so my backdoor has a deck instead of a 5 foot dead drop into the basement stairwell

Really fucking wish these student loan repayments wouldn't keep getting blocked by judges, like sorry, now that mine's been paid off I still want the program even though I got mine... I want everyone else to get theirs too

Just... yeah... some good news, some real good news

[viina-art]

I was officially diagnosed with autism a few years ago, and since then like every couple years I realize anew that damn it looks like I'm more disabled than I thought. Likely the only reason why I ever thought I was low support needs is because I was lucky enough to be born into a family that already gives me most of the support I do need, and even then I've been depressed (and likely burnt out) for years.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Seeing the same people who perpetuated or sent vicious misogynistic hate to Hannah Schmitz, as well as disgusting racist abuse towards Yuki and Alex because of FUCKING CONSPIRACY THEORIES and those who just straight up ignored it, now up in arms regarding whatever the fuck is going on between the FIA and the wolffs is beginning to piss me off. Because now that it's not someone red bull affiliated involved, it's somehow now unacceptable.