#photoshop class bullshit

[vilnmelling]

do you have any more richie tidbits :D

Trust me, I have a LOT to say about Richard Lipschitz. As he's my current hyperfixation character, I have made it my mission to find out everything there is to know about him, and of course also to make as many headcanons as possible about him. Now LET'S GO, ALL SORTS OF RICHIE STUFF!

Canon/half canon facts and trivia (AKA things said/done either in NPMD, in track commentaries or in streams)

As he says a couple of times in NPMD, he has overactive sweat glands, meaning he sweats more than the average person, and that he doesn't smell very good.

He also has asthma, as Bury the Bully confirms.

Shapiro asks the nerds if they're sure they didn't see Richie in their AP calculus class, so we can assume Richie's good at math.

Richie's quite skilled with a camera, and he knows how to photoshop (whether or not he's good at it is up for debate *glances at Ruth's playbill headshot*).

His favorite anime is Attack on Titan.

He would absolutely dye his hair blue.

He cosplays, and if he could afford to, he would make ELABORATE cosplays.

Richie's bedroom: his walls are absolutely decked out in anime posters, he has tons and tons of plushes, and he has a glass case of Funko Pops. Then he also has his anime love pillows, of course.

He did some Twitch streaming in 2020.

Once, he tried to organize a Pokemon Go meet-up, but no one showed up.

He's not as brave as he would like to be.

He doesn't seem to be a big fan of parties.

Out of the nerds, he was the one who felt the worst about what they did to Max.

My personal observations and headcanons

Richie's a shorts guy, all year around. He only has one or two pairs of long pants in his closet. It doesn't matter how cold it gets during the winter; he still wears shorts. He would've worn shorts to Homecoming. He'd be one questionable decision away from wearing shorts at his own wedding.

He and Trevor are identical twins, and Trevor is eleven minutes older. Even though Trevor's barely interested in anime and Richie's hardly at all interested in musicals, they watch them together. It's a weekly thing that they sit down in the living room, argue for five minutes about whether to watch an anime or a musical ("We watched Newsies last time." "Bullshit, that was like a month ago, we've watched anime the last two times at least!" "And what pray tell may those animes be, Trevor?"), then settle on one but talk over it the entire time. One of them always gets annoyed at the other for not keeping up with the storyline, but if you think they're gonna stop talking over them, you're wrong.

Daniel's their younger brother by five years. Neither of them know about Daniel's abilities nor about the fact that he's part of a magical fighting ring. (Their uncle, Gary, takes Daniel in secret, and they've told the rest of the family that Gary's taking Daniel to some sports practice. Trevor and Richie have ongoing bets about where Daniel keeps getting loads and loads of money from, and they constantly make deals with him to earn some money for themselves (doing Daniel's chores, watching stupid superhero movies with him, etc..))

His full name is Richard Jonathan _____ Lipschitz. Jonathan as a middle name is a family name for all the men in the Matthews-Goldstein-Lipschitz-McNeil family, and then they all have their own second middle name.

Trevor and Richie's birthday is somewhere in June. Richie was just so fucking clearly born in June.

When they were kids (8-12), they would make shitty movies and movie trailers on iMovie on their iPad. Most often, Richie would film and Trevor would play all the roles. Sometimes they'd involve Daniel and their cousins from their father's side of the family, then they'd force all the adults to watch their movies. Their greatest hit films include 'The Children in the Drawers', 'The Green Plant', 'The Murderer in the Barn' and 'The Boy Who Went to the Bathroom and Disappeared' (definitely not named after the shitty iMovie trailers and movies my sister, cousins and I made when we were kids).

Richie and Ruth met for the first time on a playground the summer before their first year of school. They played together for an hour or two before Ruth had to go home, and parted as typical six-year-old strangers who played pirates on a playground once. When they started school a month and a half later, they ended up in the same class, and they immediately recognized each other, and since then they've been besties. (Ruth met Pete at tap class, and that was how Pete completed the trio).

Based on a whole fuck ton of things in both the proshot and the digital ticket, I have no choice but to think Richie's down bad for Ruth, and that she's equally whipped. Richie's 110% oblivious to how he's feeling. He's not in denial or anything, he just has no idea. I'm talking, "Seeing her smile makes my stomach do cartwheels, but that doesn't mean anything." "That dress she wore once made me speechless, but that's just because she's such a good friend." "Yes, I could imagine myself kissing her, but that doesn't have to mean anything." He gives her an almost Paul-level heart-eyes look, she's fucking constantly looking at him, he fully checks her out in the digital ticket (involving nodding and hand gestures), she giggles at every lame joke he makes like it's the funniest thing she's heard, how angry he is that Pete wouldn't want to be with her, she beelines for him after "arguing" with Steph, he hypes her up when Max compliments her skeleton bit, and they're pretty much incapable of standing more than three millimeters away from each other. I mean, come on.

Analyses are on the way!

I've spent a lot of my time delving into story analysis, and I'm about to make an analysis video focusing mainly on Max and Richie (Richie's death, in particular). The script is done, I just have to film and edit it, but then it'll be up on Youtube!

Another analysis video idea I have is to make a video purely dedicated to breaking down each of the main characters and unearthing their internal conflicts, goals, desires, fears and misbeliefs. I've already got a pretty good idea of Richie's motivations and fears, so I'm quite excited about this one...

And there ya go, a bunch of Richie stuff!

[sourcreammachine]

a little something fun about the transition from reddit to tumblr

i worldbuild. that’s me hobby. my notes app is all a load of random bullshit. i think of a world idea and then i do notes on it. i think of a fiction idea and i do notes on it. i think of any fun thing and i write nonsense notes on it

on reddit, whenever you shared that shit, it had to be presentable. you needed to be good at worldbuilding AND adept at photoshop. if it looks ugly, gtfo amateur. so i never bothered sharing, i mean, i shared a few things but at my low-medium skill level with graphic design n shit it always took me a lot of effort to do it up, and i never could be bothered to give the amount of effort it took me

so i kept it all to myself and my notes app turned into an unreadable apocrypha that made sense only to me. who gives a shit. nobody’s gonna read it

then spez spezzed everywhere and r/196 became #196. i can share anything i want here! the community is far more personal and personable, and text posts are okay here. it’s not that the bar is lower, but that the bar is more accessible. you don’t need to create a massive .psd every time you want to share some creativity, just share it! and i do, i write stuff for tumbr and put it out there and love doing it, and i’ll fucking do it again

but, my biggest projects, my most proud worlds, were all created when i was closed off, for me only. i’d love to share them to tumbr. but they’re fucking unreadable. even though it’s far more accessible i’d have to edit it into a readable, presentable format and guide people through it better, which it very much was not built to do. it’s like ancient manuscripts. you’d need a rosetta stone. it is not for human consumption. the FSA classes it as toxic waste

so yeah. i have some good shit waiting for you. maybe one day you’ll get to see it when i actually edit it and type it up, but don’t count on anything, because, ykno, severe chronic depressive

[r0ya1]

OK I MIGHT HAVE LIVED THE MOST IRL CLASS OF 09 SENARIO THAG I WILL EVER HAVE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE

Te: pedos, cops, cussing ig

So I might be a bad person in this first part cause when I get bored I will talk to random people on the internet. And if one happens to be a 30+ year old guy I’m NOT NOT NOT blocking him….? So when he asked how old I am I say 15 (I’m not) and when he asked where I live I say Seattle (I don’t). AND THEN HE FUCKING SAYS HE ALSO LOVES IN SEATTLE. so I play along wow that’s so cool that’s so funny!!! (I’m Lwk trying to see if he’ll send me cash) so I pull this little sob story out of my ass about how “my parents are so controlling and don’t love me and abuse eachother and me sometimes” and that “they take all my money but I need to save to get out of this filthy apartment” and of course he doesn’t take the bait of sending me cash but instead insists that we meet. Well me in my cozy home with no reprucutions if I go along with this says hell ya! Let’s send this pedo on a wild journey across his city.

We just talk normally then as I “open up” he stays trying to open me up 💀 “is it shaved?” “How big r ur tits?” “Can you be my DAUGHTER” SIR I AM FIFTEEN AND VAUNARABLE (not actually)

He even offered to let me move in with him. And of course I was like “fuck yes” SCREW IT I WAS HAVING FUN MESSING WITH HIM!!!

So as the girls girl am I tell my friends about this. AND I LET STUPID FUCKING MORALS GET IN MY WAY AND SOME HOW THEY CONVINCE ME TO REPORT HIM TO THE COPS. (Which by the way is not as easy as I thought) So I decide that pretending to be 15 isn’t enough but also I now should cosplay Chris Hanson.

The time to meet is here. He texts me about where we planned to meet. I had to switch up my story last minute!! (I forgot why) “IM SORRY I HAD TO RUN OUT FO THE HOUSE MY DAD CAUGHT ME PACKING UP”. “IDK WHERE IM GOING TO GO CAN YOU PICK ME UP?” Boom he’s blocked. The address I gave him? A Seattle police station. He’s suspicious and I give a bullshit answer of “oh I’m scared and I know that I’ll be safe here or smth” AND I KNOW THIS ASSHOLE KNOWS HES DOING SMTH ILLEGAL CAUSE HE SAYS “can you move away from the police station?”

LIKE HELLO?!? You know it would look bad if you picked up a 15 year old girl….

So I call the non emergency line of the police station I sent him to. IT TOOK SO LONG BEFORE I GOT OFF HOLD. Insane bro. Then I talkt to the dispatcher give her the situation. I thought it would end there they would maybe look for a guy if he showed up and Lwk idk after that…

THEN SHE TRANSFERS ME TO COPS ON THE FIELD? They need more info from me I send them the photo he sent of himself and other erm … explicit messages.. of him being a creep. Ya I went along but like why not fuck with them? THIS IS WHY ITS EMBARRASSING CATCHING A PREDATOR IS ONLY COOL IF YOURE A 20 SMTH DUDE. When your a girl who’s still a minor (I’m not 15) THEY ARE STILL CONCERNED

So tldr I was on call with dispatch for 41 minutes trying to get this guy to where the cops were waiting while having them help me take photos of proof I’m there so he can find me (cops). NEVER DID I THINK I WOULD WORK WITH THE FUCKING FEDS. And he never shows cause either A) really bad photoshop selfie I sent, or B) we did spend two hours back and forth of him looking for me… anyways it’s over they didn’t find him and I need to leave.

SO THEN I give them my info and my parents info (mistake) cause like I’ll work WITH the cops ig! I’ll do the “right thing” WRONG WRONG WRONG.

THEY THREATEN TO CALL MY MOM AND TOLD ME TO TELL HER WHAT HAPPENED. FUCK NO I WOULD BE GROUNDED for life AND MY INTERNET ACCESS WOULD BE CUT OFF. I hang up FREAK OUT and run to check my mom’s phone.

ITS DEAD!!!! So I ask to borrow it to look at photos and she just hands it over! Plus she’s on DND !!! She doesn’t see the call! They called me again but I missed it! Crisis averted for now! But omfg I was going to kms is he found out.

“Your child was talking to a 30 year old male” GROS THAT SOUNDS SO GROSS FUCK NO I SOUND LIKE A VICTIM

So every number got blocked! My messages deleted and discord off my phone for a while!

Why is this class of 09? Idk my friend said it sounded like smth that would happen with all the pedo stuff, the catfishing, the cops…. Reddit said that they might call the cops in my county to talk to them but I say bs!!!

Anyways if you made it to the end pray for me.

[tittyinfinity]

Last night I had a dream that I was at a job interview. We were in a very small room, about 8x8 feet. The walls were painted a shade of off-white that was nearly yellow – like walls that had been stained by cigarette smoke over time. The only objects in the room were the hiring manager's desk, his laptop, his chair, and my chair.

I was interviewing for a graphic design position. This guy had only seen memes that I've made and wanted "the most bullshit looking program possible."

He asks me a lot of questions, but they seem to be more random as time goes on. How long have I worked in graphic design? Never have, the last classes I took was when I was like 12. How long have I been using photoshop? Since I was 8. How many people did I sleep with in my best friend's attic? 6.

Once he's done asking me questions, he beckons me over to his side of the desk and shows me his laptop screen. "So this is what you'll be doing." He grabs the back of my head with his hand and shoves my face into the screen. An intense video of instructions on how to build the Company Minecraft World is playing. "LEARN IT! LEARN IT! ARE YOU LEARNING IT? LEARN IT!"

then I woke up

[nameforadragon]

I keep seeing posts being like "omg. The kids don't know how to use computer! They don't know how to use a mouse! They don't know what a command line is! They can't even use a browser. The kids don't know anything about technology if not app on phone:("

And idk dude like. I'm not gonna accuse these people of lying but I am gonna accuse them of being completely biased with absolutely no self reflection at all. You sound like your parents. Like holy shit. First of all, LOTS of us [aged<20] have had computer classes. "Computer lab" was a class all throughout primary school for me, and in grade 8 I had a required course where I learned some Python, had to use Adobe Photoshop, that kind of stuff. I know so many people who go further than that (including myself) and take elective coding classes. Now, it would be incredibly fucking biased of me to conclude that, because almost everyone I know is at the very least functional with a computer and can use a mouse, this means everyone is. Of course not. But thats what these posts do. "I only interact with children who don't know this, therefore no one under 20 knows anything and they're all stupid with their little tik toks" you have a very incomplete sample of kids at this age, and you barely acknowledge it.

Secondly, more on the self reflection bit. This is absolutely a privilege issue. Not a "the kids are so dumbb omggg" issue. Kids don't have computer classes? It's a privilege I was able to get that education. Should we mock people who didn't have music classes growing up and don't know the difference between a rhythm and a beat? If your answer to that is no, then maybe we shouldn't mock kids for not knowing the difference between a search engine and a browser. I know plenty of people bring up the issue to try and get at this, but I cant shake the undertone that all of these posts have in common, which is essentially this air of superiority, like people who grew up with desktop computer access are somehow better than people who didn't, which is just kind of terrible?? Like no joke, I've seen people complaining about uni students who don't really know the ins and outs of programming yet in undergrad and its like,,, did you just not want them to go to school because they didn't know that prior to post secondary? Like, what do you think school is for? Being perfect all the time and telling the teacher that you know everything already? I was under the impression that school was for acquiring knowledge and skills that you previously didnt have.

I also know people who are much older than me, and could have been coding all of their life, but didn't so much as touch a computer until after college, and they learned how to use it, and how to code, and now it's their career! You don't need to learn how computers work when you are five! I grew up scribbling on ms paint and being confused how solitaire worked, and struggling to comprehend minesweeper strategy on a very old version of Windows. I could functionally operate a mouse at the age of one, and that's all privilege. I'm not smarter, or better or more refined or anything, I was literally just born into a family that had desktop computers. And again, to point out the bias, I know way more adults that fit the whole "don't understand it if it's not an app on my phone" than kids.

Finally, a minor nitpick but I feel like it's warranted since the people authouring these posts often present themselves as being more knowledgeable about computers than the average teen? Don't go just saying incorrect bullshit. If you mean PC, say pc. If you mean a desktop computer, or a laptop, say that. Phones are not "fake computers" they just ARE computers. They are computers that have been engineered to be tiny. Their size does not mean they are not computers, it just means they are small. Furthermore, an "app" isn't a "thing u use on a phone." It's literally just the word application shortened. Anytime you use an application that you download on a laptop, or a pc or whatever, you are using an app. Your browser application is an app. I hate to tell you, but it must be said.

Sorry if anything I said in this is straight up wrong, I am not immune to hypocrisy, yadda yadda you know the deal. I also AM NOT an expert on computers, I have (what I, a teenager consider to be) a relatively baseline understanding of computers. And I'm writing this exhausted because I can't sleep. Admittedly on the mobile app, (which explains any typos) but I swear to you that I have a laptop and I use it more than I use my phone most days. I doubt anyone will really see this post but thanks for reading if you got this far I guess. Maybe let's just not fearmonger about "the kids these days" when we should be trying to help kids become functioning adults. I didn't get past my struggles with reading as a kid by being told that I was stupid, or getting mocked. I got past them by finding a book that I loved, and by being encouraged to read by adults who genuinely cared about my education. I really don't see how computers are different, that's all I have to say.

[sharksandjays]

hi guys :) since im having people being really horrible and rude to me and my art on reddit and on here id just like to post some proof that this is indeed my art and not done on photoshop (these ppl think i can afford that) and instead on procreate. yes i referenced an image, but it wasnt traced! if you squint you can see that a lot of the hieroglyphs are just me bullshitting and not actual from the photo (i got lazy)

Also the reason this image looks "boring" and "basic" is because i posted the raw art for you guys. What i ended up turning in for my class looks like this

(terrible quality but i had to copy it onto my computer)

Anyways the writing was to symbolize archeologist notes because that is what i want to be when i grow up. This is a very important painting to me and im really proud of it and i wont take hatred. Heres the proof yall needed btw.

oh and here's the slide that i made for my IB HL Art Process Portfolio :) yeah i wouldnt risk AI/Copying from a photo with the IB....that's scary. So...

thank you. and to those who have been supportive and encouraging since this post blew up, thank you so much.

I am an artist who is heavily against ai, and tracing has never personally helped me grow much. What I do love to do is look at photos and paint based off of them, since it helps my hand eye coordination.

I hope this helps.

I know this isn't ninjago guys but I finished this 17 hour painting for my art class and I was proud of it so...enjoy.

I love Egypt fun fact about me. :) [ID: a detailed, realistic painting of the hathor columns at the dendera temple complex in dendera, egypt. /end ID]

[irregulartheclockworker]

Hello!

Idk how to write this lol. But I've come to say that you've been an art inspiration for me since I was in high school freshman year and now I'm in college trying to get a degree in the medical field😭 Recently, I got back into some hobbies and passions which includes art. So I was wondering if you have any art tips or things you've used to improve drawing that way I can make fanart :D If not, then I just wanted to drop my appreciation!

What.

what?? ;-;)/

Just saw this .

I am... shocked

.surprised....

Woah

I

Blushes

A

I Dunno what to say. For a moment I was so shocked I thought you made a mistake.

If not...well.uh thank you do much! :'3

The only advice I can give you is to try to keep practicing not matter was others tell you. ( Trust me, you will hear a lot of bullshit)

But most of all try to enjoy it / have fun. There is no point in any field of you can not take it too seriously. I wish I had realized sooner, maybe I would have started practicing and enjoying myself sooner while I was not such an old person.

If you can assist to art classes or small courses to learn / practice do it.

I am mostly self thaught so you can actually see my trial and errors...(.and horrors at anatomy...or perspective..) .I need to practice and learn that still lol.

I am trying to have free time to assist to art courses but unfortunately my real job..( in the medical field) keeps me very busy.

I have found some very good tutorials and artist on you tube: NIro and kuroshiro are excellent....( I sill have have a hard time deciphering steps/ or the reason they do stuff)

Also bought myself basic books over time.:

Artist master series

https://pdfcoffee.com/artists-master-series-color-and-light-compressed-1-3-pdf-free.html

Color and light :( read this one first)

Begginer guide to digital painting is my most. Recent purchase and it is very good , it has a step by step tutorial on photoshop ( which helps you on most program) I don't own a copy on pdf...but I think you can find it...

Thank you so much for your kind words.

And sorry for my English. It has come to my attention that I don't have much respect over such language uwu

[soul-dwelling]

Do you think making villians in fiction to be too charismatic has the effect of normalizing fascists and other psychopaths in real life? Like making those assholes play into how evil they are in some post-ironic way? I could imagine the Muskrat photoshoping himself reviving the 2024 Trump campaign with his money or something if Soul Eater was popular enough and all the bigots repost it while screeching "based"...

This is going to be a lot of rambling and not pleasant reading that goes on so long, so I'm going to put the "Read More" here.

I have been listening to a podcast that goes through the history of the English language, and they got to explaining how "villain" actually emerged in part from economic details: the word is related to "village," to imply someone undesirable, from a lower economic class.

For all the whining I do that the League of Villains was not as well developed as a set of characters as I would like, where I think the societal problems contributing to the characters' choices and actions were not as well defined as Horikoshi should I have done, after hearing that podcast, I do have to give more credit to the coincidence or intention on Horikoshi's part to use that word "villain" to get back to its roots and to add something that the tired "villains are for progress, superheroes just uphold the status quo" argument that many people (admittedly, including me) have repeated so often that it is hackneyed.

All of that is to say, no, I don't think making villains in fiction charismatic has normalized fascists--at least, not only.

Returning to the hackneyed argument, that supervillains disrupt the status quo: Killmonger did not lead to normalizing fascists, Shigaraki did not lead to normalizing fascists. At worst, these stories turn people against Democratic candidates because of a bad assumption that those Democrats are not going far enough, hence leading to apathy because they don't do what Killmonger does or what Shigaraki does--which is fucking stupid, because there is no way a responsible candidate for office would ever do what Killmonger does or what Shigaraki does, get the fuck out of here with that nonsense. But no, those stories do not inspire someone to vote Republican.

I think poorly written villains can normalize fascists: I think Disney fucked up with Kylo Ren and doesn't understand why that doesn't work where Vader works. (I say this as ignorant of so much of Star Wars, not being a fan, and really not wanting to wade into how, while Vader works, Anakin still does not, regardless how well Lucas was responding to W-era fascism and inadvertently predicting or just noticing how fascism preys on disaffected young men with trauma or just an annoying sense of entitlement. And it's not to ignore any basis of reality that you get a How I Met Your Mother situation where a dumbass thinks Vader was the good guy.)

But as I said above, right now, at this moment, I don't think villains like those in My Hero Academia normalized fascists. I am almost certain I have written such an argument before; now, though, going through the story again, I'm not convinced, because the manga did end with all of the work by Shigaraki, Toga, Dabi, and others really not leading to a better situation for any of them. While they are not tragic heroes, they are indeed tragic--the story to me is more that they are not charismatic so much as pawns in other people's plans (All For One, those jackasses manipulating Spinner) or brought it on themselves (Dabi, not ignoring Endeavor's bullshit).

Also, I cringe at hearing "charismatic," not because you said--but because it is such an empty word. It just means having charm or appeal, which is too vague. There are idiots who flat-out say this orange Nazi is charismatic, charming, kind, personable, funny--no, no, no, no, Jesus Tap-Dancing Christ, no: he is not appealing, he is ugly down to his soul, he lacks any comedic timing, he is whiny and boring and repetitive, he's a pull-string doll where every insult is the same set of words and dull catchphrases, he is dumb, he has the vocabulary of a rabid groundhog and the mental stamina of a twig, he treats people poorly, he does not act like a person or a human, he is just garbage, a puppet of Putin and oligarchs.

How the actual fuck is Shigaraki a more appealing villain than him? Even when we know this orange fucker had a bad childhood, he still turns out to be not sympathetic but even more grotesque because he didn't learn to be better than his parents, he decided to be even worse.

It's why all of those editorial cartoons post-2015 featuring supervillains alongside him are so gross: sorry, but Dr. Doom, Magneto, and others they are smart, they are charming--he isn't. (And as I'll point out later: there is no way Doom or Magneto would hang out with a fucking Nazi--what the hell are these cartoonists thinking?) It's why Young Justice having Lex Luthor quoting and imitating this orange Nazi is so stupid: what an insult to Luthor, someone with an actual brain.

I mean, for fuck's sake, a PBS children's cartoon, Wild Kratts, based one of their animal-kidnapping environment-destroying villains on Muskrat. Back in 2011 Wild Kratts already figured out this prancing jackass was a villain. There were so many people cheering this sack of shit online long before he really took the mask off and showed his Klansmen attitude. And around 2011, I was looking at how many people were hanging on Muskrat's every word, and all I could think was, "God, you're dumb," and started unfollowing those people. (Sorry, [certain unnamed anime dub actor], but praising Muskrat around 2016 is why I unfollowed you online. Glad I never got you to sign my Soul Eater DVD--dodged that bullet. Wish I had avoided Mignogna signing it, but that's my mistake.)

But to actually address your question:

I get the point that playing as the villain is supposed to command coolness. I am almost certain I have written elsewhere before that it is creepy at times to see people cosplay as villains, in particular (going back to Star Wars) Stormtroopers, given that Lucas was pulling from Nazi imagery to make it clear that these people are creepy and the bad guys. That being said, as I pointed out with the League of Villains, it is not all about leaning into "villain is cool" so much as "villains are human." People like this orange Nazi and Muskrat do not play as villains to show their humanity; they lack humanity and want to be Nazis. Even the Joker hated Nazis like Red Skull; this is why I was appalled with the editorial cartoons putting this orange Nazi alongside Dr. Doom and Magneto when, for what should be obvious reasons, no, those two would despise this fucking orange Nazi. It's why you can't say "don't show villains in stuff, because then you normalize it" is a poor argument, even as I have said that a lot of art does normalize this shit.

As an example: I grew up on The Lion King, I was not bothered by the hyenas doing literal Nazi goosestepping while Scar is literally in a Hitler pose--I understood, even as a kid, we are showing them as such to telegraph they are the fucking bad guys because anyone should know that the Nazis are the fucking bad guys.

But at some point, that argument went away. Maybe it was when that one classmate I had in college was impressed with Nazi uniforms--and I was horrified. Or probably around Kickassia because of course Doug Walker had to do that stupid gag. Or even Hellsing not doing enough Nazi punching. Or just all of South Park. Or, most likely, because we ignored the history of World War II, the Holocaust, the violence and hatred against Jewish people as well as LGBTQ+ people, Roma people, so many victims of Nazi fascism. How many books on the Holocaust I read in grad school, just about one per semester--and my failure, when reading those, to appreciate the warning they were sending, because I thought we were getting better, that we did learn--and, obviously, no, not all of us learned.

Now we have orange Nazi and Muskrat embracing Nazi iconography because their base is made up of Nazis who wrongly think Nazis are cool--this is the mess we are in. But that's not because any Nazi are charismatic (because, again, "charisma" is a bullshit word), but because those people are that awful. Jesus, how did we go from Captain America punching Nazis to the owners of Marvel handing over millions to this orange fuck. I guess it must be because a lack of media literacy: someone can find Scar "cool" and "charismatic," but I would hope they would also realize, "Wait, why is he posed like Hitler? Oh, because he's a dummy! And that's why he fucking dies at the end--because he's as dumb as a Nazi."

Onto your next point: I doubt Muskrat would do that photoshop (since he would just steal it from someone else, or use AI--which is the same as stealing from someone else). It's not like there aren't options: years ago some Nazi put the red hats onto the Soul Eater NOT trio, because that is how sick our world is, turning those anime characters into the modern day brownshirts. I hate to say it this way, I should be glad Soul Eater is not as popular as it could be, because, despite that awful Nazi photoshop I just mentioned, I rarely ever see people in this fandom cater to literal Nazis--and if it did get popular, yeah, Muskrat or some other freak would use it for their iconography. I mean, pick the most popular fandom, there have been awful people weaponizing that fiction to promote their bigotry.

And I remain steadfast in my belief that the vast majority of people know the orange Nazi and Muskrat are just complete losers: no amount of times on Saturday Night Live (which, what loser goes on Saturday Night Live anyway), no amount of social media networks to buy, no amount of video game playing or collectible buying or photoshops can buy friends, good will, and coolness--because every last one of their followers is a coward who will abandon them as soon as they inevitably get hurt by their weakness, stupidity, and incompetence. They have no friends, only spineless sycophants; they have no good will, they just have people who want someone to hate; they are not cool, they are the such losers (who can never win a fair election).

[princess-kivee]

I was curious as to how much I've improved over the years, so here's my summaries from 2020-2023, as well as my thoughts on them

Wow, 2020 was a shit year, but I do like some of the stuff here. Overall tho my art is nowhere near high quality. I'd love to redraw some of this, especially March. Also the characters in February and May I'm actually rebooting, so stay tuned!

This was...certainly a year. Honestly, it's one I both don't like (Covid bullshit, and me failing a class), but I genuinely like some of the stuff here, and I'm still heavily nostalgic for my first DnD campaign, and really miss it... Overall, it's sort of like the awkward stage where, yes it's way better than before, but it's still not there.

This is where art school really started to pay off, and when I got my art tablet (Although that was September).. I really enjoy a lot of stuff from here, even if this was when my temper was probably at its worst (as well as spring of 2023.) Overall, it's way better, but still has some awkward bumps, mainly from the anatomy. This was also the last year I used Medibang Paint, as I focused more on Photoshop, then a certain app....

Wow, I'm still amazed with how much I've improved. Especially from January (which ngl I still love that piece). Spring was also when my temper was at its worst, but I'm getting better. My mental health struggled in the fall semester because of the consequences of those actions, but I think I did good still. This was also when I got Clip Studio Paint and holy shit I'm glad I did. It's really been a great app for what I do, and definitely helped my art. This was also when I got super into NSFW art, but let's not go there. Overall, of these 3 years, this is my peak so far. Of course there's bumbs (anatomy still not quite there, and I got that dreaded Same Face Syndrome). But hopefully this can be an annual thing, where I reshare this with a new art summary.

And holy shit I'm gonna be a senior fall 2024 bring me back to 2021-

Existential dread aside, here's to 2024!

[disease-danger-darkness-silence]

We had a thing called the senior project. I graduated in 2003, and it was in April of 2003 that I had to turn in the final draft of paper for that.

For the entirety of senior year, almost every class I had was geared, in some way, towards helping you with the project. Whether it was the approval of the project itself (you had to write a real-world proposal for an actual, real project), finding a mentor in the field relating to that project, time management regarding the project, writing the paper about what subject the project was about, doing the actual project, or giving the speech to your board of teachers, administrators, and community members about the project: most classes were geared towards helping you figure out project stuff.

Keep in mind, the Internet existed in 2002-2003, but it wasn't ubiquitous like it is now. Most people didn't own computers at home. You had to use physical resources, like books and encyclopedias, to write and cite your papers (in fact, you were only allowed to use two online sources!). Citation Machine didn't exist yet. Google Scholar didn't exist yet. Finding sources had to be done the old-fashioned way.

Making a website wasn't easy - there were some programs that let you do it a little easier, like Dreamweaver, but generally you had to know HTML, maybe some PHP, and have money or friends with money to have a website that didn't have egregious pop-ups and ads everywhere.

I did mine on publishing. All different avenues, including self-publishing. Keep in mind, at the time, e-books didn't exist and formatting a book was a specialty skill that you paid someone to do, so self-publishing was 1. Difficult and 2. Expensive. I did a minor amount of actual research on the topic and had gathered resources and citations and quotes through the year whenever we went to the school library, and I think once I went to the public library for a few things because I happened to be there for something else.

The actual project I'd left vague - either I wanted to try and get something published, or I'd make a portfolio, or something. Somehow, I bullshitted my way through the proposal without the approval board recognizing that I didn't state a realized goal.

On a weird AuDHD-fueled whim one night, I did an entire from-scratch website of my writing (as a subdomain of a domain and webspace I already owned and paid for). I didn't do it for the project, I did it for funzies and then realized I could relate it to my project.

Then I laminated all of my school newspapers bc I had been on the newspaper staff, and they let me laminate them for free if it was for school stuff and not just for fun. I just wanted them all laminated so I could keep them for a while - the school aspect of it was a bonus. I bound them together with the sewing machine my dad had found and given to me earlier that year.

I did wind up getting several things published in the actual town newspaper, so I accomplished all three (online portfolio, in-person portfolio, getting something published) by like. Accident.

I bullshitted my way through the paper the night before the rough draft was due. 7 - 10 pages, double-spaced, plus citations and cover page. I had a computer at home, and I typed 121 wpm, so I just typed it, reorganized my stream-of-conscious typing, and threw together the citations and cover page. At the time, people barely knew how to use WordArt and shit, so using graphics that weren't basic-ass Word clipart and some fancy-looking Photoshop word banners made everything look Hella Fancy.

I got an almost-perfect score on the rough draft. Then, when the final draft was due for submission, I just like. Took the revision notes from the rough draft, rearranged things a little to make it look like I had done more work than I had, and then I printed and bound the paper in a presentation clip to make it look super-fancy.

I didn't prepare a speech for my board. I bullshitted my way through it. I made a few self-deprecating comments through the speech bc that's what my humor was at the time, but I fully winged it. I actually got comments from the two community members on my board about how I should give myself more credit because they'd read the articles I'd had published by the paper and they were good.

I even managed to bullshit my mentor - who was the former editor of the paper and was the teacher who managed the school newspaper - into thinking I'd done more work than I actually did, and got her to sign off on the whole thing.

I did maybe 10 hours of work, total, on this project, not including the writing I had done before the start of the year or for fun that I included in my online portfolio. I was supposed to do between 40 - 50 hours minimum.

I got the second-highest score in my graduating class. Higher than the valedictorian, who'd tried really hard.

Bullshitting is an art and a science, and you cannot learn it using generative AI.

[drakunwaith]

So lately I've HATED drawing. It's so unfun and I physically get so bored I start falling asleep everytime I start drawing. Every. Time. Imagine you pick up the pen and look at a blank photoshop, you IMMEDIATLY feel heavy and sleepy. So you think "I must be tired" and you jump into bed. But you're not sleepy at all. Or the least bit actually tired. Just terribly unmotivated. it's so strange and unreal.

That's what I've been facing. And it's put a real dent in my jobs and work. I just hate art.

A solution I found out? Chicken scratch that shit. Turn your brain off and COPY shit. That's right, do bullshit studies. Look at pictures and copy them, don't even think. And do it FAST. The momentum of moving your hand and eyes will excite you. Without spending any energy on method or mindfulness, you won't feel fatigued or mentally exhausted. Yet simultaneously, you build an index of shapes, muscle memory, and proportions. You are absorbing images like how you chicken scratch notes in class.

Of course, starting it is very difficult... but after a while you get into a flow and you feel more confident and interested in art, you feel like you can draw better. That's what studies and warmups are for.

So drawing is exactly like any sport you do! You need to do warmups, or else you'll hurt your poor little brain.

Hopefully doing this will allow me to conquer the fuckery that's been going on with me.

[fluffydancer618]

They made us make short comics in photoshop class today

[ironmandeficiency]

pedro boys as high school teachers (modern au)

boys included: javi p, pero, jack, frankie, din, javi g, dieter, oberyn, marcus p, marcus m

word count: 1161

summary: there are just my thoughts on what high school subjects some of the pedro boys would teach, modern au

a/n: decided to reread the agm universe by @forever-rogue & it gave me an idea so here we are. i’m sorry if the formatting is jank, i’ve been posting from mobile for like two months now. also i know the ms. frizzle gif isn’t quite relevant enough but you can fight me

javier peña — javi is peak history teacher material. his students are juniors & seniors because he doesn’t have the patience for lower class bullshit. his philosophy is that students take his class seriously or not at all. took up coaching girls basketball one year because the last coach quit on short notice & admin begged him to take the spot; the year he coached was the first time in 30 years that their team went to state. became best friends with pero through their respective subjects & will have drinks together on weekends. doesn’t give grades that end with nines & will bump them up a point (69 to 70, 89 to 90, etc.) to not be a dick.

pero — geography. scares students stiff but does have a soft spot for those who put effort into his class. offers bonus points on tests for those who go to the local ren fair, and students are surprised to see their teacher wearing full garb & fighting in duels. his classroom is across from javi p’s & they watch each other’s classes when needed. they have the same lunch & conference, so when there’s nothing to do they like to talk shit about anything and everything. they gossip like old women & playfully bicker like old men. pero is often called “the gordon ramsay of teachers” & framed a photoshopped picture of their faces on the other’s body sent to him by a student.

jack daniels — football coach & ffa. he has and will continue to drive things to work that aren’t regular vehicles (tractors, horses, golf carts, even a donkey once). freshmen are surprised to see that he actually does own a highway legal means of transportation. all the ffa animals are kept in a separate barn on his ranch not even three miles from the school & will let students ride in the bed of his truck or on his trailer on the way there & back for class (parents do sign permission slips for it). lets students control the aux cord on these trips as long as it doesn’t have curse words, but the way to his heart is if someone plays reba. hosts the yearly chili cookoff to support the ffa, and it’s always a hit. he buys a stetson for each class that the students sign at the end of the school year & hangs them all up around the ffa barn.

frankie morales — softball coach that also teaches algebra 1 & 2. he has such a math brain & is super lenient when it comes to the students that have a harder time grasping the subject. very passionate about coaching & does not tolerate any bullying within the team, on the field or off it. wants to set a coaching standard for when his daughter starts playing; he wants her to know how a coach should treat their team early on. she comes to after school practices & all the girls love her to bits. frankie lets her in the dugout during games to motivate them. offers snacks for kids who come to tutorials because he knows they are hungry by the end of the day no matter when they had lunch, and that full bellies equal full attention.

din djarin — chemistry & physics. is very intimidating until it’s a couple months into the year & his students are finally comfortable asking him personal questions. they accidentally see a picture of him and his son on his computer’s desktop one day & just like that, he’s no longer piss-your-pants intimidating. he can be stern when he needs to be, but overall would rather not. he makes these two difficult subjects much easier to learn & will have so many cool lab demonstrations (some are mythbusters level) that occasionally border on dangerous. gets along with coworkers by not getting involved in drama & doing his job, doesn't have time for the bs.

javier gutierrez — this man definitely has a flair for the dramatic & would be an amazing theater director, albeit a bit dreamy. would recruit the art teacher from across the hall that he knew had acting experience to help in one production & suddenly, they’re co-directors. students favored him highly whether they took theater or not; something about him just oozed kindness & compassion, and the kids trusted him. insists the students either call him mr. g or javi, he feels that the standard honorifics are too stifling. him & dieter will buy their students fast food after days spent making set pieces & rehearsals in the auditorium. the queer kids feel hella safe with him & actually have a kinda-joke ship going with him and dieter that neither men are upset over.

dieter bravo — art teacher turned surprise theater co-director. always shows up looking like a hot mess because that’s just who he is. very lax and chill with students but will be the first to call out bullshit if it walks thru his door. drinks several coffees a day & despite the vast number of almost-pajamas he wears, some doubt whether he even sleeps at all. is the one who reigns in his counterpart when things go awry. recruits his best students to help make set pieces for theater & bribes them with free food bc he knows the way to win kids over. plays it off when students talk about the (b)romance between him & javi g but is actually pretty flattered.

oberyn martell — this is the english teacher that the lgbt+ kids flock to immediately. between him & javi g, they have an even split of the school’s queer kids idolizing them. also coaches the cross country team where usually two (or more) of his daughters participate yearly. is able to separate coaching from his fatherly duties so he doesn’t turn into a coachzilla (he’s heard about the dads who go batshit when coaching their kids in sports & loathes them). will team w javi on assignments with historical emphasis (mostly essays and book reports) & will allow students to write one essay that covers both assignments to keep from overworking the kids. is considered a jack of all trades when it comes to different subjects, and is highly recommended when another subject has a sub & cannot teach the lesson properly.

marcus pike — is the most patient & not-confrontational teacher ever. he’s the one that doesn’t get angry, he just gets disappointed & that’s actually much worse. started the school’s photography club as a volunteer & was eventually able to get the funding to make it a class, so they hired him to teach it. his students find out he plays bass in a cover band & they flip their shit abt wanting to see him perform. during the nature photography lessons, he brings his dog to work to be the model. jack gets wind of it & encourages him to use the ffa animals too, and uses the student-taken photos on the school website.

marcus moreno — not a teacher but is head of the pta. he chaperones field trips & school dances, and fights the school board to get better resources for the whole district. (i just love him okay?)

[shallitickleyournerdbutton]

After the heartache of the Volume 8 finale, I would like to return to a happier point in the show and suggest some memes/jokes that I like to think the students at Beacon would have had. More closely inline with the RWBY Chibi-verse, than the actual show - where Nothing Bad Ever Happened.

"Who's child is this?" being used to refer to Ruby - the youngest student at Beacon - when she's left unsupervised and/or doing something odd.

"I'd let Glynda punish/whip me for one corn chip."

Every now and again "Missing - Have you seen this person?" posters for Professor Peach will pop up around campus. No one knows who it is that keeps making them.

Vomit Boy candids being taken and shared any time Jaune is Suffering™️ on some form of transport.

The Great One plush of Pyrrha exists in-universe... and becomes the go-to prize for any stupid competition between the students. There's at least a dozen of these dolls on campus now, owned by various people and won as "spoils of war."

There's a dedicated chalkboard in the combat room for tallying how many times Nora has launched someone into the stratosphere. Notable mentions are listed on the board alongside her of other people who have achieved this feat - including Yang, Yatsuhashi, and Glynda.

(She launched both Port and Oobleck one day when they kept annoying her. Sometimes, their screams can still be heard if you listen closely enough.)

"There's that old guy again..." "Oh, shopkeep? Yea, he's everywhere. Don't think too much about it."

This leads to "Don't think too much about it." becoming something of a slogan for every time anything unusual happens.

"Candy canes, kids! One for Sun Wukong, one for Yang Xiao-Long, ooh four for Coco Adel, you go Coco!"

"I--"

"Andnoneforweissschneebye~"

Team STRQ having something akin to legend status at Beacon, whispered in hushed voices for fear and reverence of their names. There's a war between the students regarding team JNPR as their successors vs. the students who insist JNPR are not anywhere near worthy of such a title.

"How many team CRDLs does it take to beat Pyrrha?"

Blurry fancam-style videos of the Qrow vs. Winter fight out in the courtyard being traded around like baseball cards with other students. Some try and manufacture a "rematch" of this with the materials they've got - trying to get Ruby and Weiss to fight each other. 

That weird sing-song "HellOooOo~" that Yang sometimes does being mimicked by everyone. And I mean everyone.

Any time there's a significant lull in conversations or classes, someone often asks "Why are we here?" which never fails to make everyone in the vicinity groan.

"Ozpin is compensating for something" jokes about his office chair - including at least one popular response being "it's the war crimes", without them knowing just how accurate they actually are.

"On a scale of Ren-Nora, how excited do you want me to be?"

"Ladies Love Lavender" referring to Lisa Lavender having her own in-universe fandom mostly comprised of women. (Lavender being associated with lesbians irl, and I just think this would be funny.)

The sight of Ren just picking up and carrying Nora away from something is so commonplace that other people start doing it to their friends when they Need To Stop.

"Why is Blake's bow so big?" "Because it's full of secrets."

Blake being a closet faunus being such a poorly hidden secret that by the time she finally takes off the bow no one actually even notices. 

The betting pool surrounding exactly what it is in Ozpin's cup - coffee being one of the least popular options, and souls being the top choice.

Using Yatsuhasi as a unit of measurement. 

Photoshopping adorable images of Velvet onto various "cute" animal memes.

Everyone wanting to be spanked by Coco Adel. 

"I'd let Fox blow me up too."

"Why is Weiss' hair so long?" "To reflect the length of her father's crimes."

Everyone mimicking Pyrrha's memetic "I'm sorry!" anytime they apologise for anything. Even going as far to do it while apologising to things that don't require apologies - like inanimate objects.

"Are Port and Oobleck, you know... 💅?"

In fact, just that 💅 being used to refer to a large number of people at Beacon. Actual LGBT students picking this up and using it towards grimm when they're attacked to question the sexuality/homophobia of the grimm targeting them over their peers.

Threatening Neptune with water anytime he flirts with a girl who is clearly Not Interested in him.

No one knowing who, exactly, the other two members of team SSSN are - with wild theories abounding about who they may be. Popular choices include Shopkeep, Zwei, and Professor Peach.

This persists even after their tournament fights where they're shown. Scarlet and Sage are perfectly content with this, and participate.

"Arslan's/Pyrrha's back must be aching from constantly carrying her entire team."

And the respective responses of, "Reese/Nora are alright."

Similar jokes about Glynda also carrying the entire faculty/academy on her back.

"Salutations!"

The war between the "Irondaddy" fanbase, and his haters - who refer to him with various derogatory versions of his name. "Metalpenis", "Coppercock", "Chromeshaft", etc.

Anytime someone is doing something ~questionable~ donning a pair of glasses and/or imitating Oz or Oobleck pushing them back up their nose with accompanying menacing body language. (Kubrick Stare optional.)

Mercury having a foot fetish, courtesy of the people who caught him sniffing shoes at the festival.

"Did <character> just die?" "You know, it was really unclear." any time someone takes some insane damage in a fight and isn't seen for some time afterwards.

Everyone trying to locate and get a pic of the ~mysterious~ fourth member of team CMSN, who has only ever been spotted once - her tournament fight in the first round. Beacon's version of "Where's Wally?"

The Sympathy Fund for Emerald and her one-sided crush on Cinder. "She could honestly do so much better."

People offering themselves up as tribute to spar with Pyrrha/Yang/Coco/Sun just so they can be beaten up by the hottest people on campus.

"I drink milk!" being used as a defensive argument in wildly inappropriate contexts.

Naming grimm really boring names and attempting to keep them as pets. 

The innumerous times Port has allowed a "zoo-break" to happen under his watch and everyone having to assist in recovering his prized subjects.

"Where the fuck are all the fourth years?" "Ozpin's soul collection."

Candid shots of Glynda Suffering™️ being shared similarly to the ones of Vomit Boy.

Ranking people based on their Patience Levels - Pyrrha, Ren, Glynda, Emerald, and Fox being frequent top markers based on the bullshit they put up with from their respective teams.

"Saint Pyrrha" being a common nickname for her, and her neverending niceness towards people who absolutely do not not deserve it.

Weiss' "Hey!" being replicated amongst the student body and slowly growing more and more high-pitched in its replication until it eventually just becomes a shrill noise. Even so, everyone still knows what it means - and Weiss is absolutely unamused by all of this.

In fact, a lot of early!Weiss' comments being mercilessly mocked by everyone - "I'm a victim!" being one of them.

Renowned fear permitting amongst the student body regarding Yang's red eyes meaning Serious Business. Morphs into references of "going full Yang" to mean having rage-fuelled temper tantrums.

"Never miss a beat, never miss a beat" becoming a mantra for focusing on a task. This inspires several remixes of Neon saying it, and again with no one knowing who it is making them.

By all means, feel free to add any more that you all think of! I could use a laugh!

Also, check the notes for additions!

[boeing747]

I hate getting ads for lame ass art classes I don't need your gimmicky bullshit weird ass start up company with some brain dead Instagram influencer artist selling Photoshop brushes to draw stupid Disney portraits I need George bridgeman to come back to life and best me to death with a yardstick

[marky4l]

without warning / ldh

pairing: Lee Haechan x fem!Reader

There is always a certain breaking point to a habit. For you, it was Haechan and not falling in love. It just happened in the most unorthodox way.

word count: 8.6k

genre: college au, fluff, angst (a little bit)

notes: reader is besties w nomin :)

hi!!! a bit overdue, but happy birthday haechan! also my photoshop crashed so please bear with the banner until i can make one that i enjoy seeing lol hopefully its okay :) ! I hope you like it pleaase leave feedback!

—

You like to pride yourself on the fact that you’ve never played into the mushy love bullshit.

You’re a stark contrast from your best friends, Jeno Lee and Jaemin Na, who, when boiled down to it, are basically a married couple who love to employ plausible deniability. They’re constantly teaming up to tease you/comfort you/set you up on god awful blind dates, and they’re self-proclaimed hopeless romantics. Which means there’s virtually no room for your anti-romantic philosophies in the apartment you share.

No, literally. Your DVDs are all romcoms. Your Netflix list is all Nancy Meyers. Your library is all cheesy romance volumes, overshadowing your preferred type of literature. It’s living hell.

“Are you ready for a date draw?”

“There’s Craig Cruz from my Bio class, Matt Lennox who’s my TA, Brad Aoki from my Spanish elective, Rex Smith from debate club, aaaand Lucas Wong from my football team.” Jeno offers the names to you, and before you can even form a coherent response, Jaemin is quick to follow up.

“Oh, have I got a roster for you. Nathan Davis from Physics, Charles Bass from my golf club, Jason Rodriguez from Creative Writing, and my mentor’s son’s best friend, Mark Lee. He studies in California.”

Jeno and Jaemin have long arranged date draws for you: a night where you pick out the blind date of your dreams, based on their extensive CVs, handpicked by your depressingly single best friends. (Any/every girl they manage to charm is scared off by how early they drop the L bomb.)

From your place propped up on the sofa, you hum contemplatively. Clearly, the two guys are nervous and stressed to see whose recommendation you’re going to pick: it’s always like this on date draw night, because it’s become somewhat of a competition between them to see who’s going to find your soulmate. Half the guys they recommend suck, and the other half, just a little less.

You spoon Chunky Monkey into your mouth. “Moving on to the next round: Lennox, Wong, Bass, Lee. Two even.”

You can’t deny the way you enjoy these biweekly nights of picking out your next date, even if the results are usually poor. They buy you ice cream and popcorn and let you watch something that doesn’t revolve around a couple falling in love in the Midwest/Paris/New York City (you’ve had enough of it.)

You hear noises of triumph as they quickly crumple up the paper resumes they have on your rejections. “Let me hear about Bass first.” Jaemin lets out a small yes! as he pulls up his file on Bass, reading aloud from it.

“Rich, golfer, business major. His philanthropy involves animals, cute baby animals, and he wants to run for mayor of New York one day. Rundown of pros and cons—rich, owns houses in Europe, but we have an unclear visual on his political stance.”

“Does he wear suits and talk like a douche?”

Jaemin’s silence is affirmative, so you follow it up. “Who’s his role model?”

“…Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos. Said it himself on his Facebook biography.”

You gasp.

“God, Jaemin! You can’t just leave that out! What if I picked him?!” You heave a spoonful of Chunky Monkey again. “Gross. Bass, out. Jeno, you’re up.” Jaemin groans, crumpling Charles’ paper and catapulting it into the garbage across the room.

Jeno speaks up, elated. “I’ve got Mark Lee for you. My writing mentor’s son’s best friend. He’s a church guy, but I hear through the vine he’s freaky in the sheets”—at this, you audibly gag and remove your ring to chuck it at him—“and he’s super ambitious. Wants to become a writer, settle down in the city with kids. Voted for Biden, but dislikes Biden—that whole shindig. Con: Soundcloud rapper.”

“Sounds okay,” you grimace, attempting to ignore the last bit, “but is he willing to do this long distance thing? Opposite ends of the country?”

“I was thinking it might be ideal,” Jeno explains. “So you don’t have to face the clinginess all the time.”

“So he’s clingy,” you deadpan. You allow no room for explanation and wave him off. “Jaem, go.”

“Damn it,” curses Jeno under his breath, frustrated. Jaemin is quick to remedy his previous mistake, fast in his talking.

“Lucas Wong, basketball star. 6’0, born in Hong Kong, knows how to cook. Con: kind of a man whore.”

“I don’t slut shame,” you respond, intrigued. “Go on.”

Triumphant, he proceeds. “He’s delicious, man. I mean, I’m saying this so honestly right now. He’s also super caring, a Chem Engineering major, and constantly shares his decent political opinions online.”

You sit up. “Oh, my God. He’s perfect.”

“Right?!” Jaemin’s smile is wide and he’s so, so close to reaching his victory. It’s cut off rudely by Jeno’s knowing scoff.

“Please. Jaem, tell her the real con.”

“Real con?” You quirk a brow, your head cocking to the side. “Jaemin Na, what is the real con?”

He falters, spluttering. “It’s—it’s nothing. A minor setback.”

You spoon the last of your Ben & Jerry’s into your mouth. “Now, Jaemin!”

“He has a girlfriend,” he says fretfully, refusing to meet your sharp gaze. At this, you burst into a loud yell, throwing your hands up in the air. “What the hell, Jaem?! Second straw much?”

He hides his face from view, but you persist. “Jaemin! You were going to turn me into a homewrecker, you enabler! You should be asha—”

“Tell ‘em,” Jeno says with a scornful smile. You turn on him immediately, though, eyes fiery.

“Oh, like you didn’t know and chose to use it against him so you could win today’s date draw. You make me sick! Both of you. The next five date draws are cancelled.”

The words are uttered with a vile, ugly tone that sends your best friends into a downward spiral. It’s evident immediately, what with the way their faces fall instantly and Jeno’s is the epitome of the world flummoxed. They quickly turn to each other, vexation in their eyes as they begin to swat at each other.

Being of similar height, the swatting quickly intensifies, but Jeno’s tendency to poorly control his strength results in Jaemin hitting back twice as hard.

“—I was gonna remedy that before you ruined i—” Poke.

“How do you remedy an ongoing, committed relationship—?” Hit.

“I have my ways, Lee!” Swat.

“If you just let me get to my final recommendation I would’ve won, Na!” Slap, smack, strike.

You tsk disdainfully, walking away to dispose of your Chunky Monkey. Considering the kitchen isn’t too far from the living room, your ears quickly pick up on the progression of their fight: you hear more chaos, then it fades away. It takes you five minutes to drink a glass of water and wash your spoon, and when you return, they’re cuddled up to each other on the sofa watching Me Before You.

“Insane,” you mutter dismissively.

“No non-romance for you,” says Jeno, through a mouthful of popcorn. “Rejecting our picks.”

“That’s the angle you took? 2 versus 1? Instead of you and I teaming up against Jaemin for condoning homewrecking?”

He ignores you.

But you’re blissfully unaware that the events of tonight would lead to you meeting the guy who would reach far beyond the standard set by Lucas Wong, your one that got away, so you shut your bedroom door behind you and work instead.

—

Jeno and Jaemin’s cardinal rule when it comes to date draws is to not interact with any male presence in a flirtatious matter for at least a week to purge yourself of any potential matches, so that you can fully immerse yourself in the experience.

Knowing date draws happen every two weeks, this allows you only one week to fully appreciate any cute stranger in your life. Knowing that, this basically declines your flirting skills to a good 6. You’re well aware of the pretty privilege card you hold, so it’s all you have, because your smooth talking skills have well diminished.

So here you are, perched on a bench, staring at the opposite one intently. Sat on it is a tall, and handsome guy reading—oh, God—Arendt?

The grip you have on your Journalism supplementary book turns your knuckles white, your mind struggling to think of something to say. You curse under your breath as your body gets up on its own accord, your body walking to him and offering a stuffy smile.

“Hello,” you giggle, breathy.

“Hi,” he says, and you melt inside. He must be some sort of dreamboat.

You take a seat beside him, hesitant but spurred on by his smile. You introduce yourself quickly, and he tells you his name is Hyunjin, and that he’s a Humanities major. You sit in tense, but comfortable silence, intermittent smiles and hums of affirmation filling the void of the conversation.

“Are you a fan of Aren—”

“You’re hot,” you say in one breath. What the hell.

��Oh,” says Hyunjin dumbly. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. You are. So gorgeous.”

He smiles, politely now instead of warmly, and makes up a shit excuse to save himself, walking away quickly. You groan inwardly at your mishap, slamming your textbook against your forehead in frustration.

This is one of many reasons you detest date draws.

—

You make your anger clear to Jeno and Jaemin by refusing to cook them Friday dinner. All of you can cook fairly well, but perhaps because of your natural affinity with a cookbook, you’re magical at it. So, every Friday is reserved for your amazing cuisine and the rest of the week is devoted to takeout and the others’ subpar cooking skills.

“You promised you’d cook us bibimbap,” gripes Jaemin. “Jeno and I miss home. How do you expect us to survive in a city populated by white people?!”

“Well, find a Korean restaurant and order a bowl for yourselves,” you say cuttingly. “I’m still upset over the entire date draw catastrophe from two days ago. I tried flirting with a cute guy today and, thanks to your cardinal rule, failed.”

“But you make good bibimbap,” sobs Jeno theatrically, ignoring the latter part of your sentiment.

You narrow your eyes and swat them both with your textbook. “I’m dying alone with my eggs shriveled up, and I want you both to know it’s all your fault.”

You tell them the full tale of your foiled coquetry from earlier that day, and they stifle guffaws behind their clenched fists. You hit them again, for good measure.

“You love us.”

“I hate you,” you say sharply.

—

“I love you guys. I’m serious,” you say delightedly, scooping more frozen yogurt into your mouth. You’re spending your Saturday in the Upper West, shifting through ice cream parlors and corner cafes and halal delis and watching Jeno show off his skateboarding skills. You’d stopped at a small frozen yogurt joint where you found the cups to be way too overpriced, and upon your defeat, instead found that an extended February 14 promo meant a couple gets one cup for free.

The plan was crafted ingeniously: you and Jeno would hug subtly to show that you were a couple, playing into the heteronormative bias of the cashier, and get two cups with unlimited toppings for the price of one.

However, in the middle of your planning, the shifts changed and the new cashier found Jaemin and Jeno to appear more lovey-dovey, revising the plan on the spot.

“Very cute. Love is love,” the middle-aged woman says. Jeno nods, smiling and holding Jaemin closer, despite the poorly disguised grimace on his face. You play along, a stuffy smile on yours.

So it goes that you get one for yourself and the other two fight over theirs, wooden spoons clacking against each other as they fight over the yogurt.

“Love you both, so so much,” you say happily. “So much.”

“Real quick, does this mean date draws are back o—”

“No,” you retort.

“Yeah. That checks.”

You glare at the mere suggestion, averting your attention back to your yogurt. Humiliation still courses through you, blazing your every thought with your fiasco at the park. Hyunjin is probably having a permanent freakout over your foolishness, and in your frantic attempt to pin the blame on somebody other than yourself, the fault falls on your two best friends.

Not even frozen yogurt can help it. But it’s getting there.

—

Your designated bench at the park is yours for a reason. It captures the breeze perfectly, and the sunlight filters just right through the trees overhead. You get a good view of the buildings, and the nearest exit gives you just a ten minute walk to your apartment. Granted, it’s “your bench” from 2PM to 6PM, since any other hour you’re either home or at class.

Yours anyway. Blissfully empty. Except it’s 1:15PM and somebody’s sitting on it.

“Hey—do you mind?” You gesture to the empty side of the bench and the guy sitting waves you off with a polite nod. Smiling calmly, you take a seat and draw out your study materials, getting to work on your latest news piece.

The sun is high and the park gets the brunt of it, heat surging through the walkways. Damn early classes. Now it’s too hot. You pout in mild frustration but continue anyway.

You’re in the middle of typing out your concluding paragraph, and your mind is in the middle of thinking of dinner, froyo, and the ducks at the lake altogether, when your train of thought is tersely cut off.

“Hey, aren’t you the girl who flirted with that guy on that bench? Like, four days ago?”

Fear floods your body and renders you frozen, your head inching bit by bit to face your certified day ruiner. Your eyes land on a guy about your age, nose buried in a Murakami book. He quirks a brow, beguiled by your sudden reaction. “So. Are you?”

Your jaw drops open, mouth spluttering for something logical to say. “Er, yeah.”

He laughs loudly, an unabashed guffaw leaving his mouth. “Woah. That sucked.”

“Did it really?” Your woeful tone catches his attention, his head whipping in your direction.

“Yeah—I mean, I’m not trying to insult you or anything. But I—”

“No, it’s okay,” you muse. “I’m just getting really bad at flirting.” You turn to him, a polite smile on your lips.

He smiles back. “Hyunjin’s an acquaintance of mine, you know. If you want another chance. He liked you.”

Your heart beats impossibly fast. Dangling in front of you is your chance at redemption, a date, possibly getting laid, and above all, proving to Jeno and Jaemin that you do not need their godforsaken date draws to find love.

You’re halfway through this epiphany when you realize—

“Who are you?” You blurt out, confused. “Sorry. I mean, what’s your name? I just met you and it feels like you already know me.”

“That’s ‘cause I do—I mean, when you flirted with Hyunjin, I was just over there”—he points at a nearby bench—“and then after it happened, I just saw your name being dropped on the groupchat.”

“I was made into groupchat material,” you fret. “That’s like, the worst of the worst.”

“Not really—it was talked about for five minutes tops and then somebody mentioned a deadline, so. I’m Haechan, by the way.”

“Oh,” you say simply. “Well, I’m glad that’s over. I was just. It sucked.”

“Sucked is an understatement,” says Haechan through gritted teeth. “Anyway, if you want a second date, I’d be happy to arrange that.”

You bite your lip, weighing the pros and cons in your head. You could earn yourself a new boyfriend and turn the flirting affliction into a meet cute story, but it could also go to shit. You could get laid, but who knows if he took some sort of celibacy vow. You don’t need a boyfriend, but you desperately need to prove your two best friends wrong.

“I’m in,” you say. “It has to be the best date ever. I’m talking dinner, a walk, a sports game, that whole thing.”

“Are you suggesting I help you arrange that?”

Roping a stranger into your dating agenda was definitely not on your list of things to try in your junior year.

But, well. “I’m graciously asking you to.”

—

Haechan Lee, you quickly learn, is an energetic, bubbly, class clown-y Econ major. He laughs at that’s what she said jokes and doubles over every time he sees the numbers 69 and 420, especially if he sees them consecutively (not hard, given the city’s size.)

You learn over the course of three coffee outings that he takes all his coffee with three extra shots of espresso. (He tries to make you freak out using this fact, but you combat it with Jaemin’s all time record of eight shots.)

You find out he always separates the corn bits in fried rice, and that he’s an oversharer. It’s obvious he is, considering you’d known all this prior information in the course of just seven days.

Maybe you just like to observe a little more, too, but that’s besides the point.

“I’m thinking you attend a Yankees game, dinner, then a Hudson boat ride. Hyunjin likes that stuff. He won’t admit it, he wants people to think he’s a rugged New York man, but he likes to get fancy. I’m saying this like we’re best friends, but. You get it. Boat, sports, the works,” he says through a mouthful of pad thai.

“I’m thinking you chew your food before talking,” you comment pointedly, and he nods, swallowing. You continue. “That’s nice, but I’m broke and I’m not willing to spend my existing money on a date. I said extravagant…ly cheap.”

“Boo,” he laughs. “I could get you Yankees tickets for free. Then…you split dinner and you rent the boat.”

“Perfect,” you say victoriously. Then. “This is weird. This is full on Pavlov-ing.”

“Mmm, no. Pavlov was the dog guy. Conditioning? Sound? Yeah, er, this is Cyrano-ing.”

You nod in agreement. “Nerd”—you gesture to him—“hot dude”—you gesture to yourself—“nerd helps me get the hotter girl. AKA Hyunjin.”

“If I’m going to be branded a nerd, this isn’t going to work out.”

“Oh, shut up.”

—

18 days until: JUNE 8 DATE DAY!!!!

You smile amusedly at the reminder ping on your phone that Haechan had set up for you. When you look up, the smile is quickly extinguished by Jaemin and Jeno’s trenchant expressions, piercing right through you.

“What are you smiling at?” asks Jaemin with faux nonchalance.

“A TikTok,” you fib easily. “Something about the whole Paeka issue.”

The conversation switches easily to the issue you’d mentioned, and soon Jeno and Jaemin forget you had even smiled at your screen, playing Call of Duty on their Xbox and leaving you to your own devices.

U busy? You read when you’re done downing a packet of Caprisun.

No, you type back. See u.

You’re well acquainted with Haechan at this point, having seen him regularly over the course of the past week. You’re growing less and less unused to the sight of him on the bench you’d previously branded as your own.

“Hello, Cyrano,” he says with a cunning smile. “Since we’re both free, I thought you’d like to know more about Hyunjin. Also, when I’m with you, I get free food because you get hungry so much.”

“It’s easy to fall into the quirky cafe temptations in the city,” you remark. “Isn’t the date supposed to make me get to know him?”

“Yeah, but remember—this is all for Jeno and Jaemin.”

You’d established your objective for this entire master plan of a date three days ago. As handsome as Hyunjin is, you know you’ll probably find some minor flaw about him and fixate on that. So, your motive is to charm him into maybe a fling-sized relationship so Jeno and Jaemin would lay off your back.

Working? So far. Ish.

“Alright, so Hyunjin Hwang, HH, HHJ, HJ, Jinnie, Jin, Hyunnie, he has lots of names ‘cause he’s popular. Philosophy major, writing legend, blazer wearer. Smartass. Hipster.”

“So every guy then,” you deadpan with an enigmatic smile.

“See, you get it!” He sits up a little, “For that, I’d like a cup of coffee.”

—

You spend the next week and a half bent over your master plan Google doc, which Haechan covertly names SEX TOY RECOMMENDATIONS :P under your name. Really, not at all infuriating. You find it funny, though, and it stays like that the entire time.

On the first day, Haechan sends you a Starbucks drink. Scrawled on it is the name Dildo, and you groan and hide it with your own Sharpie, lest one of your best friends find it in the disposal.

On the second day, Haechan introduces you to his dog. His height and his build gives you an impression that his dog would be, maybe, a bulldog or a Lab. Instead he approaches your usual park bench with a tiny, tiny Pomeranian in his hands, attached to a pink leash.

“This is Genghis Olaf,” he states proudly, his eyes crinkling with his smile of adoration.

“She’s very c—” you cut yourself off with your own chortle, attempting uselessly to hide it behind your sweater-clad hand. “She’s cute, I swear,” you breathe between bouts of laughter. “Just. Her name is what?”

“Genghis Olaf,” he says seriously. “A very nice name for my strong dog.”

“She looks so tiny, though,” you coo, but she bites deeply into your finger when you attempt to pet her. Haechan’s laugh rings treacherously in your ears.

On the third day, you watch Annabelle: Creation on Netflix Party. He makes big talk of not being scared, but half the time his camera is shielded by his blanket.

On the fourth day, you admit your unabashed love for Taylor Swift’s music, and Haechan admits his for One Direction. You sing Dear John and replace the “green eyes” lyric with “brown”, and it makes Haechan blush. He sings Drag Me Down and matches Harry’s high note.

—

On the fifth day, your meeting place deviates from one section of the park to another, to avoid the spookily overcast weather.

“It’s not so rainy here,” rejoices Haechan, doing a small happy dance. You roll your eyes and sit beside him.

You make it a good ten minutes with your laptops open working both on Hyunjin and your own schoolwork before you notice droplets of water growing more and more frequent on the spreadsheet you’d pulled up.

“Oh, shit,” you curse, wiping it hastily and stuffing it into your bag. Haechan follows suit, but the nearest exit is a ways to go.

“Could you run any faster?!” You wail, covering your head with your tote bag, to no avail. Your hair gets the brunt of it, and so does your black tee, since the mild drizzling intensifies into heavy rain within seconds.

“Sorry I’m trying to protect my phone!” He cries back, maneuvering between garbage cans and other people in your way who have actual umbrellas.

You make it out, though, after a chaotic five minutes, and you’re one subway ride from your apartment. Haechan’s is way nearer, though, so you part, both absolutely soaked.

Before you do, he tugs a dry shirt out of his bag. “You might get sick. God knows what kind of bacteria you contract with wet cloth in the subway. Maybe even murder evidence.” He plays it off but your heart blooms with gratitude, taking it.

“Thanks, dumbass.”

You skip the sixth day and meet on the seventh.

You’d officially grown used to each other’s company, nearing three weeks of knowing each other. You swap your usual park bench for a cafe, but on the cab ride there, Haechan constantly changes his mind.

It’s Indian first, then Thai, then American, then Korean. Then Chinese. Then coffee.

“We’ve been in this cab for ages,” you whisper-yell. “Have some shame!” But he doesn’t, persistently switching the destination. It turns into a minor roadtrip around the Upper East. You pull out your laptop to work on a paper.

It only stops when Haechan abruptly yells for it to, so he can puke his guts out. Well. At least you know he’s carsick now.

—

“Yours, hers, mine,” Jaemin says, gesturing to the folded piles of fresh laundry. “She’s never even home anymore, lately. I miss her bibimbap.”

“Could you just get to folding the clothes so I can play Overwatch with Sungie?”

“You don’t care that our best friend is never home?!” Jaemin’s voice is saturated with offense and betrayal. “She’s probably out partying.”

“You mean having fun, like people our age should,” corrects Jeno sternly. “Don’t be so worried and hand me that gray shirt.”

Jaemin grumbles, but does so, despite the reluctance in his actions. “Who knows what she’s mixing herself with out there? New York is a danger zone. Scaffolding is lethal enough.”

Jeno folds up the tee with an amused scowl on his face. “You know, she’s having fun, doing schoolwork, and if she’s happy, we’re happy. That’s how best friends operate.”

Across him, Jaemin pouts. He knows this is true, and beneath the petty feelings he harbors, he’s genuinely happy that you’re having fun. “I guess,” he grouches. “But I hope she’s not sad we cancelled date draws.”

“Temporary cancellation,” Jeno says. “Also, I doubt she’s sad. She insisted we cancel it. She ordered the cancellation, so. Shirt.” He chucks the folded tee into Jaemin’s pile.

“Touche,” sighs the latter, “but I gu—hey, what? This isn’t mine, dipshit.”

“Oh,” Jeno says. “It’s mine, then.”

“Wh—it’s not yours, either.” He unfolds it to reveal the faded, bleached pattern of the Sex Pistols logo, and they squint.

“Not mine,” says Jeno quietly. “Guess it’s hers.” He tosses it onto your pile, but Jaemin snatches it before it lands.

“No way it’s hers,” he comments, inspecting it. “She’s never worn this, and it’s not branded, but she hasn’t gone thrifting in a while. She did last week, and this wasn’t in her haul.”

“So? Some band geek’s laundry got mixed up with ours,” Jeno says, but Jaemin’s quicker to come to a different conclusion.

“Are you kidding? It’s the third week of the month. She got it washed herself at the laundromat self service. This is from our apartment. Is this what you think—are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Jeno nods slowly.

“Say it, on three,” says Jaemin. “Go!”

“A guy is living in our ceiling!”

“She snuck someone into our house!”

“She snuck—yeah, that’s way more likely.”

—

On the eighth day, Haechan texts you to meet him at an entirely different part of the park. You get there, confusion written all over your face, and find him sprawled across the grass, denim-clad legs splattered with yellow paint and glitter.

“Hello,” you say, “I’m not at all confused by what I’ve walked into.”

“In exchange for being your Cyrano nerd,” he begins theatrically, “I only ask one thing.”

“All the cups of coffee I’ve bought you?”

“I only ask several things,” he remedies. “Coffee and your help with my little sister’s crafts project.”

You eye the expanse of white canvas on the grass, untouched by Haechan’s skills, or, rather, his lack thereof. You roll your eyes.

“Okay. What do you need to paint?”

“Anything yellow,” he says. “New York preschool art teachers are super hipster, so their assignments are graded on a college basis. I’m half-joking.”

“What makes you think I want to help you?”

“Your date thinks so.”

“I suck at crafts, Haechan.”

“I’m sure you don’t. Now, paint!”

You take the brush and get to work, dirtying yourself up in the process. By the end of it, you’ve crafted a kiddy-sized abstract masterpiece, dizzyingly yellow and sunny and bright. It’s just a bunch of brush strokes and fingerprints in a vast array of yellow, but you’re sure it’s a show stopper, since Haechan’s little sister is a five-year-old.

“If your sister is stamped a prodigy after this, I get a portion of her earnings.”

You beam down at Haechan, but you miss the way his gaze lingers on you for just a second, smearing a brushful of canary paint on his face.

A second.

Considering he’s the sole reason you talk to Haechan, you don’t remember the last time you talked about Hyunjin. You don’t mind, though, running along the open grass while flinging all sorts of shades of sun onto Haechan’s face.

—

“Honeys, I’m home!” You yell, dusting dried paint off the hem of your jeans. You deposit your keys at the entrance and make your way to the kitchen, sliding your shoes off. “What’s for dinner?”

“Thai, with a side of betraya—oomph!” You can’t catch Jaemin’s last word, Jeno’s elbow hitting his gut before he can enunciate it.

“Thai, with a side of biryani. Sounds perfect, you two,” you swoon with an appreciative smile. “Bibimbap next week, I promise!”

“Yup,” Jeno says through a strained breath. “Go get changed, you!”

You shrug off the odd behavior and follow suit, shucking your clothes off once you’re alone. You spot a neat, folded pile of fresh laundry at the foot of your bed and stop in your tracks upon seeing the familiar gray one atop it.

You touch it, a little hesitant. Jaemin and Jeno must’ve seen this, then. Your heart races inexpainably quick at the possibilty that the insinuation would be that you were dating the owner of the shirt.

But then again, Jeno and Jaemin probably couldn’t care less. You shrug indifferently, chucking the tee into your bag for Haechan’s taking tomorrow and walking back into the kitchen.

“Where’s the biryani?” You ask, confused, upon seeing its absence at the table. Jeno shrugs and mumbles some excuse about it being unavailable, and Jaemin grumbles a quiet agreement.

You eat in silence for a while. “How’s class, you two?”

“My professor,” says Jaemin, cutting off what Jeno had already opened his mouth to say, “was revealed to be in an affair this morning. It’s wild, honestly.” He rolls up the sleeves of his mint sweater. You gape through a mouthful of khao pad, brows raised. “Do tell,” you say simply, intrigued.

“Well, he was happily married to his wives—wife, his wife, and then he turned and had a nasty affair and now he can’t even face the betrayal he committed. Neither can the wife,” he says quickly, his voice laced with truth and hurt.

You nod slowly. “So. That’s it? No sordid mistress? Murder ploy? Money?”

Jaemin shakes his head, pouting. “None. Just plain”—he stares right at you—“betrayal.”

You nod again, and then your thoughts are full of khao pad.

—

Haechan picking up your dry cleaning, paying for three cabs, and accompanying you on three coffee runs is the only cause of your current predicament. Not debt—you’re not so unfortunate there, thankfully—but something much worse. See, you liked Haechan. You’d spent so much time around him it was dizzying, and he was funny and a great friend.

Which meant you’d do any minor favor for him. Which means—this. It means this. And that is how you find yourself seated on a neon green beanbag listening to a roster of Soundcloud rappers on a JBL speaker.

The room is lit only by a string of pink LED lights and the light emanating from the PC setup on the desk, shades of blue and purple radiating from it.

There are teddy bears strewn around the room, almost as many as there are Nike shoes that look extremely obscure and/or expensive. This is a very specific brand of person you’re dealing with. You take a drag from the joint in your mouth, eyeing the other contraband drugs on the desk but ignoring them for the sake of yourself.

Who else would own this kind of room—closed off, dark, lit by neon illumination only? You don’t need to look far. Spray painted in a glow in the dark green on the opposite wall is the name—

“Yangyang!” Haechan hollers when the former finally swings the door open. “Thought you’d never return. You were gone for, like, an hour.”

True enough, he was. He’d apparently left to fetch his wallet in his friend’s dorm, but never came back, granting you and Haechan plenty of time to plan for Hyunjin—well, talk, actually.

“I’ve gotta go again. Sorry, you two. Enjoy the ganja. Haechan, don’t leave yet. You have that favor you owe me!”

He slams the door shut again and you stifle a laugh. “I’ll get going if you don’t mind.”

“No,” he pleads. “We can exploit the weed and the air conditioning and everything.”

“Fine,” you say, because you weren’t planning on leaving at all. “Let’s plan.”

“Nice. Hey, you know I used to own a bear just like that?” He deviates from your suggested subject, probably unconsciously, but you find yourself being grateful for it. You follow his finger to the bear leaning against the wall opposite you, a huge brown one.

You hum. “Did you also spray paint red Xs over the eyes?”

“Yes, and on the genitals,” he says with a loud laugh. “God, no. My mom was always iffy about that stuff. We grew up well. Here in the city, I mean. Brownstone and everything. My little sister still has that life, but…yeah.” He dismisses the topic and you nod.

“I get it,” you say, leaning back and taking a drag. “Well, I don’t, but. I do.”

“Yeah. I miss my mom, and my dad hates my guts, so that’s that. I just find all the solace of the world in my sister.”

“She loves you, Haech,” you say quietly, a small smile on your face. He chuckles.

“I know she does. Me, though—I’m never good with that stuff. Gotta practice saying it somehow.” He turns to you, quiet. Then.

“I love you.”

The world slows, time melting into an indistinguishable, homogenous blob of pink and green and weed. You feel like you just ingested one of the smiley faces on Yangyang’s desk, if you’re honest. You open your mouth to respond but your eyes catch on the way his mouth is slowly curving into a smile, and you lose yourself in it. Your body bubbles in confusion and indifference—why the fuck are you so affected?

He grins. “So? Sounded genuine? I hate you, by the way. Can’t have you getting the wrong idea.”

Then the world ticks back into normal speed, a haze of lights and teddy bears, and you regain composure. “No. You sounded like a Republican apologizing.”

You brush him off, but the thought of him plagues you all the way home.

—

You dogsit Genghis Olaf for the first time on the tenth day of your planning.

You’d rather not talk about it.

—

Last edited 12 days ago stares cunningly back at you as you open the starkingly empty Google doc of your date plan. You tsk at the lack of progress, but inwardly, you don’t mind so much.

Your past weeks with Haechan have been busy, and eventually they grew to be less about Hyunjin and more about genuine conversations between the two of you. You’re not dumb. You know where this is leading—and normally, you’d start to shy away from it.

You’ve got six days until June 8th, and you can’t seem to remember the details of that date for the life of you. Your thoughts are just full of Haechan’s jokes, Haechan’s dog’s new dress, Haechan, Haechan.

It’s devastating. “—are you listening to me?” Haechan’s voice flows abruptly from your laptop, which rests on your bed. You hum loudly to say yes, pulling on a hoodie and taking a seat to show yourself on camera.

“Actually, I wasn’t. What were we talking about?” He groans at this statement, raising his brows in frustration and poking his tongue through his cheek. He does that a lot. It’s—

Your door swings open and, like clockwork, you slam your laptop shut, feigning nonchalance and getting up.

The thing is, you haven’t ever thought of Haechan in that way. In a non-platonic way. (Half truth.) But around friends like Jeno and Jaemin, who love to twiddle with stories until they’re worthy of Nora Ephron films, you can’t ever keep your mouth open, lest they think of Haechan as some sort of soulmate of yours.

So your rendezvous with him were kept a perpetual secret, and the shirt you had never returned was laundered in secret. You weren’t necessarily ready to tell them about Haechan Lee, because it would mean chronicling the past three weeks of spending all your days together.

So. “Were you watching porn?”

“Wh—what?! Jeno, you’re sick!” You toss a throw pillow at him and he catches it, scoffing.

“Porn is nothing to be ashamed of!” He yells back. “I’m just saying, if you shut your laptop so defensively, you were probably watching porn, or…” He narrows his eyes and makes a beeline for your desk, but you’re quicker.

You jump onto his back, estimating his strength perfectly and putting enough weight on him that he slows down but stays standing. “Get off me, you nympho! Probably watching foot fetish porn, but I don’t—oomph—judge!”

“Get away from my laptop, Jeno Lee!” You wail, digging a nail into his arm so he curses and stops. He mumbles in pain and an I’ll get back at you before jogging out of your room, ensuring your victory.

—

It’s 2AM and you’re an hour from home. It’s windy, too—that fact would prevail by a lot if they had a competition deciding what was most obvious. Your hair whips across your face until you splutter and resort to tying it up. Also, you’re on the 70th floor of a building, sprawled across the cement rooftop. That would probably win the competition.

You’re also in Haechan’s arms. Now, that—okay, you’re done with this whole hypothetical fact competition.

But subjectively, it’s nice, you know that well enough. It’s nice to be out at 2AM on a cold, windy night, 70 floors above the city, and it’s so nice to be resting your head against Haechan’s chest, arms loosely wrapped around your figure as he hums a song that you recommended to him.

The rational part of your head is reeling over in shock and offense. The other is—well. In Haechan’s arms. “It’s 2,” you say, “in the morning, Haech.”

“So?”

“I’m sleepy. And you dragged me up here.”

He laughs with incredulity, and you can’t help but join him. You both know that while it was suggestion to check it out, you’d been just as complacent, since the words Hey, wanna go up to the 70th floor of my friend’s dad’s uncle’s building? just seemed to ignite a thrill in you that caused you to nod.

“Then I’ll drag you down and to the subway and come back up here myself.”

“But,” you say, sitting up. He lets his arms fall and you turn, facing him. Your faces are way closer than you expected, and while you take a sharp breath inwards, you make no move away. “Then you’ll have fun without me.”

“Then stay,” he says. It sounds like he means something else.

You gulp. “If I stay, we should plan for, um. Hyunjin, then.”

Something you can’t describe, and you barely catch, quivers through his gaze, but he blinks and looks away, getting up quickly. You lose your balance, following suit, confusion written across your features at the way he’s acting.

“No kidding,” he chuckles. “What else do we need to plan?”

“Dinner? I—I don’t know. I was joking.”

“You probably really want this date, so. It’s in a few days, you know?” You nod, but your thoughts are roaring something else entirely. “Haechan, I—”

“Well, there’s a good Italian place near your apartment. I’ll text you the address. Settled. Let’s go.”

He bends back down to tug his bag up from the floor, and you’re hit with a sudden rush of vertigo, your confusion and the cold and your racing thoughts hitting you instantaneously. Your hair flattens against your face and you rake it back. “I’m—are you—is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” asks Haechan carefully, eyeing you.

You splutter. “I’m just asking.”

“It is,” he says, smiling. It’s forced. You can tell.

“It’s not,” you say, stepping closer.

“I’m serious. It is.” There’s soft solemnity in his face, but his gaze betrays it, flitting everywhere but your face.

“Haech—”

“Let’s just finish planning and, um, we can go back to being acquaintances.”

“Just tell me what it is, Haechan.”

“I—” he laughs, and it’s mirthless. “You don’t get it?”

You shrug, rolling your eyes. “Stop being so damn weird, face me, and answer me so I can.”

“I can’t look at you, goddamn it. I can’t see you, I can’t touch you, I can’t laugh around you, I can’t crack a joke around you. I can’t even mention your name. It—I. I don’t. I don’t know why, okay? I just—you’re so cool. You’re amazing, and you’re everything, and you’re funny and flawed, and bright and weird and hilarious and every other adjective I can’t think of right now. And when I see you, I feel all of that. I feel it all.

And it sucks, b—well, because, well, seeing you means hearing about Hyunjin, and everyday I think—what if it was different? What if. What if it was—I—fuck. I like you, okay? God, I do. I mean, who—wow. You’re just.”

He turns to the front of the building. “I like her!” He shouts. “And it feels good to finally tell you, but now, I just—I don’t—I.” He faces you, eyes hopeful, eyes sorrowful, and you open your mouth to form a reply.

It falls silent. It stays silent for a while.

—

JENO + JAEMIN’S Certified Heartbreak Checklist!!!

ben & jerry’s (preferred flavors: chunky monkey, cherry garcia)

taylor swift/early 2000s/dance music

feel-good movie i.e clueless, mean girls, 13 going on 30, superbad, project x

a round of call of duty with amateurs to make you feel better

sob session

“I don’t need this,” you say through a wad of snot. “I’m not heartbroken. I’m just confused.”

Jeno looks over to Jaemin, panic written all over his face. Jaemin mends it quickly, grabbing a Sharpie from the counter and scribbling over the word heartbreak, replacing it with the word Feelings?, much to your confusion. He does a bad job of it, though, and after he does it it looks more like Heartings?

“I’m okay,” you insist fruitlessly. You’d been crying your eyes out for two days, knowing not much other ways to cope with such a frighteningly confusing situation. You’d made a list of pros and cons before realizing you didn’t need any. You wrote down a speech for how to respond to Haechan, and you’d gone all over your usual meeting spots to recite it to him.

You couldn’t find him, for the life of you. You’d gone back home instead and recited a play by play of the events in your head.

“I hate myself.”

“Don’t. Haechan’s probably just not ready.”

Minor detail: you’d also spilled the totality of your predicament to Jeno and Jaemin, whose faces morphed from giddy to anguished to confused and back, much like your feelings. While this eliminated the need to hide Haechan’s existence from them, it also opened to you the copious amount of unsolicited advice.

You rack your head to try and find ways to apologize to him. That night, faced with bewilderment and feelings, you’d gasped in air until you couldn’t, shoving the exit open and running down flight after flight of stairs.

By the time the adrenaline had worn off, you’d just made it about six floors down. You took the elevator the rest of the way and kept hoping he would enter.

It sucked. However you chose to react, it was your mistake to remedy, and you didn’t quite know how. You still don’t.

You wallow in self pity and puzzlement and a spoon of Cherry Garcia before Jaemin bounds out of his room and into yours, smile broad on his face. “Yo, dude. I just saved your life.”

“Whose? Mine, I hope,” says Jeno offhandedly, walking into your room holding a slice of pizza. Jaemin glares at him.

“No, you dumbass. Hers.”

“Not to invalidate, but looking at my grades makes me feel like my life needs major saving.”

Ignoring him, Jaemin continues. “Listen—Haechan Lee, the guy you fucked over”—this earns him a flick of ice cream—“you want to apologize, right? But you never knew his exact address. But I’m telling you now. It’s his birthday, and…”

You’re sure Jaemin says the details afterwards, but your mind sticks itself onto the fact that it’s Haechan’s birthday: a fact he’d never told you before, and one you’d never thought to ask about. It’s his birthday. Birthday. His birthday. June 6th. It makes sense, and not even in an astrological point of view. It just does.

“I’m going,” you state blindly, getting out of bed immediately. “Now.”

—

Haechan’s apartment, you quickly learn, is a very nice one with nice windows and nice doors and a nice guest list. You heave the door open, Jeno and Jaemin teetering behind you, and find a room full of people. You tug it back shut instantly, nerves pulsating through you like a bad drug.

“I can’t,” you lament, biting your lip. Jaemin tugs on a lock of your hair.

“Don’t be a pussy and do it,” Jeno says sternly. “Own up.”

You pout, but push it open again and slip inside, your two friends following suit. You weave your way through the crowd and find groups scattered along the wide area—beer pong, weed, making out, there’s a space for everything. Judging by the way Jaemin and Jeno leave your side instantly, probably single hotties, too.

Your heart thumps with uncertainty, but it mellows down after ten minutes of futile search attempts. Every time you think it’s him, your heart leaps to your throat, but it never is.

So you take it as a sign. He’s probably getting laid in one of the two closed bedrooms, or buying more booze outside. You find your two henchmen—friends—in a throng of people playing Uno and tell them you’d be back.

You navigate the building’s elevator buttons until you find the rooftop one and wait in idle silence. Of course, he’s waiting on the other side when it opens.

His back is turned to you and you’re feet apart, the wide expanse of the rooftop separating you. You press the close button furiously, not ready to confront another rooftop confession yet.

A nasty deja vu cascades through you, and you shiver. The doors are closed for one minute and then they ding open, and you see him on the other side, and God he looks great. He’s in a black polo and black jeans and somebody’s written birthday boy on the space on his cheek, underneath his eye.

He enters the elevator, swallowing and clearing his throat. It smells like him. It’s stuck to his clothes.

“I’m sorry.” The starking silence is broken and in your shock, you can’t form a reply. Your head turns to him fast, eyes unblinking.

“Don’t,” you say, and then you inhale, deep. “Don’t be. I am. I—”

“But I’m—”

“Let me talk.” You say, facing him. You realize everything you’ve wanted to say is stored in your rigid script, so you take a deep breath and let it all out. To hell with being eloquent.

“I got nervous. I got—I got shocked, I got confused. The truth is, I’ve been running in circles trying to figure out how I feel for you. I mean, you’re funny. You’re cool and you’re—I don’t know, you’re just.” You take a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from rambling. “Okay. Well, I like you, too, and I like you a lot, and I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I like you! I have nobody to yell this to, but you, but you’re the only person who needs to know right now. I like you. And I like liking you. And I like not planning this date on June 8th because I don’t want Hyunjin. And—I don’t know—I’m scared, that maybe this will all go to shit, because I suck at these stuff, and so do you, but I don’t know, it feels like if I try, it won’t be so bad.”

Obviously, when you look back up at him, he’s sporting a shit-eating smirk.

“Happy birthday to me,” he says, and then you’re kissing him so he’ll shut up.

Your hands find his face, trailing your touch everywhere so you can feel the change of texture when you encounter the eyeliner smudged beneath his eye, the moles dotted across his face. He smiles into the kiss, deepening it, his hands finding your waist to bring you closer to him. It’s a kiss you’ve wanted for always, but one you never knew you’d wanted. It’s a soft kiss, but a deep one, one with laughs and one with breaths that smell of ice cream and mint.

“Give it up,” you mumble. “I hate you.”

“That’s very contradictory, considering I just received the best gift of my life.”

“Well, you’re about to get another one.”

—

It’s the 8th of June, and Hyunjin sits alone at the dinner table, wondering why Haechan, the guy from the groupchat whom he barely even knew, called him out of the blue and requested to meet him. The restaurant looked fancy, and expensive, and he began to feel nervous at the propect of having to pay for a meal.

He’s been waiting for ten minutes now, and both him and the waiters are beginning to grow antsy. He’s ordered water maybe six times, and to be honest, he’s getting a little pissed.

And then. “Hwang? Hyunjin Hwang?” He looks up, eyes gleaming in relief and then in bewilderment at his companions for the night. Politely, he cocks his head to the side, running a hand through his hair.

“Hi, do I know y—”

“Jaemin Na. This is Jeno Lee. We understand you’re in need of a date.” Two guys clad in matching black tees sit on either side of him, voices loud despite the quiet aura of the restaurant. Hyunjin doesn’t know how to react.

“I’m really not, y—”

“Trust us.” Jeno slams a manila folder on the desk, and opposite him, so does Jaemin. “We are high-tier selectors of love interests. Our past clients…client, rather, is extremely content with their love life.”

“Because you recommended their soulmate?” asks Hyunjin, confused.

“Well…no. Actually, she met her boyfriend elsewhere. But that’s besides the point.” Jaemin extracts ten papers from his folder and Jeno follows suit.

“Hyunjin Hwang, are you ready for a date draw?”

—

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